My birth story: Redux

If I could sum up my second birth, it would be with this picture:

And with this sentence:

"Why is everybody so ANNOYING?!"

I'm so glad Jason managed to snap that picture. It says everything: messy, tired, overwhelmed, ecstatic. I'll take annoying people over a brush with death any day of the week.

Last time, I felt like I orbited the black hole of my mortality and was lucky to escape. That may be overstating it, but for months I struggled to revive my body and my spirit. This time, I feel like I just circled it from a distance, and it let me right on out. I feel so much better that I grieve a little for how hard I had it last time. I also am relishing the gift of still being here on this Earth, and for Dean being here too.

Like most things child-related, the labor was not as I expected. Last time it was fast and hard. This time it was much longer, and much better.

Instead of a too-fast-too-furious avalanche of contractions, this time I had weeks of them that built up slowly. A few times, I thought I was in labor and started preparing, only to have the contractions fade out. That part was mentally and physically exhausting, but my official opinion is: long labor with breaks is ONE THOUSAND TIMES better than short labor without breaks. I had some restful days interspersed, and for the most part, things felt manageable (comparatively). Plus, feeling so miserable for so long made me actually happy when labor began!

The night I really was in labor, the contractions were getting more painful but were still irregular. I was distracted by my two year-old puking at 3:30 AM, which rallied our household for a few hours. By the time I had a chance to think about my contractions again, they were about five minutes apart. I called my doctor, and she advised me to go to the hospital to be checked.

I had decided to go to a hospital this time, rather than to a birth center, because of the hemorrhage I experienced last time. However, I may have mentioned that I HATE HOSPITALS. I realize my husband spends most of his waking hours inside one, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Just walking in and standing and waiting and getting my bracelet and "Who are you again?" and "What is your insurance?" and "Only one person with you in the triage room!" and blah blah blah made me remember why I didn't do this last time. The things I will do to maintain my blood supply.

I was four centimeters dilated when they checked me. They weren't sure whether to admit me, so I walked for an hour. I progressed just a little, so we decided to get my show on the road. Here's a selfie with my IV pole.

I was positive for Group B Strep, so I had to get IV penicillin.  OH BY THE WAY THAT HURTS ALMOST AS MUCH AS LABOR DOES. Good times!

After two hours of walking, things got rolling and they rolled fast. This part felt like I remembered. My contractions were long and strong and I could no longer walk or talk much. I got into the position that helped me (leaning over a birthing ball on all fours) and I stayed there pretty much until I pushed. Jason and my mom took turns giving me counter-pressure through the contractions.

I felt much more in touch with the process this time. I could feel the contractions that were opening my cervix, and I could feel when they switched to pushing the baby down. I knew things were moving fast. Hard as it was, I kind of got into a groove and I knew what I needed. When they checked me again, I was at 6 cm. At the birth center, someone would then have said, "You're making progress! Good job! You're doing great! Hang in there and he'll be here soon!"

At the hospital, they just said, "Last chance for narcotics!"

So, I tried some Stadol. :)  It's pretty nice! I was still in pain, but I felt warm and fuzzy about being in pain.

The cast of characters I had to interact with was what irritated me to no end. The resident checking on me didn't know my birth plan. The anesthesia resident had to give me his spiel about why I should probably avoid an epidural (which I already knew), while I was nearing transition and I could barely open my eyes and the pain was becoming nearly unbearable. Thanks, dude. My doctor was in clinic so people kept telling me I'd have to wait to push. Ha! Right! Luckily, I don't think anyone but Jason and my mom heard me blurt out, "Why is everybody so annoying?!"

Then there was Celeste, my labor nurse. God bless Celeste. She was an angel. She empathized; she stood up for what I wanted. She would come in close to me and say something important and I knew that all was well. She offered to catch my baby if my doctor didn't make it and that sounded great to me. I wish everyone had a Celeste in her life.

When it was time to push, there was no stopping me. Luckily my doctor made it just in time (don't they always?). I decided to push in a squatting position on my knees, holding on to a birthing bar they installed over the bed (which blew the resident's mind, I think. I don't think she had seen a Birth Without Stirrups). After the resident broke my water, I pushed hard and I felt him crowning. It hurt like hell. There is no way around how much that hurts. So I just kept on pushing and screaming, "Get him out get him out get him out!!!" He must have heard me because he came sliding right out in less than five minutes. I think he hit the table before they knew it, even though he weighed 8lbs 12oz. I didn't tear, and I didn't hemorrhage. Hallelujah! 

Recovery has been smooth. My body may never be the same, but that's a blog post for another time. I've been fortunate to have a village of family and friends helping me adjust to doubling my number of kids. My spirit is full of love and hope.