Milo’s Birth Story

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.”

 

I wanted to start this with a warning to everyone that is looking to read this as reassurance that birth is a beautiful and orgasmic experience – it was not that for me.  My son was beautiful, my body worked beautifully, but contractions, labor and pushing did not feel beautiful to me.  In fact, it was really nothing like the birth stories I’d poured over during my 40 weeks of pregnancy.  I had thought I would be ultimately prepared for this birth because I had read all about what should happen and when it didn’t pan out as I had planned it was a really scary feeling. A feeling like I was all alone in what I was doing and had no idea what to expect next.  I was discouraged during the large part of my birth experience; I felt weak and defeated until the last hour when I was pushing.  My reason for writing this and sharing it with other mamas or future mamas is that in the event your birth doesn’t go the way you planned, you can be assured that you are not alone in that.  I want to tell other mamas that it’s okay to be afraid and to want to give up, and to get the epidural because contractions really suck. 
 
So without further adieu, here is my “big and scary” birth story.  It’s long, but so was my labor so that’s how it goes.
 
Here is some context for you.  It’s important to know that this was myvba2c; my first two children were born via C-sections.  I spent the greater part of the pregnancy being told I could die, or the baby could die, or that no one even knows if my body could even HAVE a natural birth.  I went through 4 different doctors, hired a doula, went to natural childbirth classes, read natural childbirth books, joined natural birth support groups and read every single vbac story on the internet I think.  I felt prepared.  I felt like no matter what happened, I would be informed and confident in my decision making.  I watched baby story on TLC from my ignorantly high pedestal and would think things like, “Pfft…that Mom is afraid of the pain, that’s why her contractions are so out of control.  She just needs to relax.”  If you believe in karma, my lofty know-it-all attitude is probably what earned me my super difficult labor.
 
So fast forward to December. The entire pregnancy I was told my baby was big.  His estimated due date was December 20, but his ultrasounds reflected a due date of November 27.  The doctor was convinced I’d go into labor between the 1^st and 15^th of December.  Those dates came and went.  I had prodromal labor for much of the third trimester.  I’d have [what I would now call] mild contractions sometimes as close as every 3 minutes for several hours, but they always fizzled out. Having spent my first pregnancy dealing with the same scenario, I knew not to get hysterical.  The doctor was getting more and more concerned with the fact that I hadn’t really had any cervical changes – just to 50% effaced and 1cm, even though his head was always really low.  His obsession with my cervix didn’t really phase me and I told him during my last visit not to worry, and that I had a feeling that everything would happen all at once for me.  I stayed positive, felt great and told everyone that I was fine and in no rush to have that baby, and it was true.
 
December 19^th: I woke up for the first time discouraged.  Straight from sleep, my eyes opened and I felt all of this impending doom and anxiety.  What if the baby is too big?  What if I go past 41 weeks?  What if I’m a wuss during labor?  I rolled over and grabbed my phone and there was a voicemail from a friend. Miraculously, that voicemail ended up being from my friend Katie that went to 42 weeks during her pregnancies. She left a voicemail that was 3 minutes of reassurance about going overdue and babies being okay.  It was totally unprompted and she managed to reassure every worry I’d had in that voicemail.  It renewed my spirit, and I got up to take on the day.  Getting up I noticed that I was more sore than usual so I got on the ground to do some yoga.  It was in that moment that I started to lose my mucous plug.  I had that feeling like, “Shit – did I just pee myself?” and when I went to the bathroom there it was.  I tell everyone you spend weeks looking for it every time you pee, and questioning every wipe until you see it and then you’re like, “Oh yeah.  No, that’s definitely it.”  I let my immediate people know because when you’re that far pregnant, people like to hear about your mucous changes.  Deep down inside I knew I was going into labor but there was a big part of me that didn’t want to get my hopes up so I just went about my day.  Many of my friends and family reassured me that this could still mean weeks more of labor, but I knew it was it.  I didn’t realize it’d be days, but I knew it was starting. I had a really great day that day, someone even bought my coffee for meat Starbucks.  My contractions were more painful, but nothing serious and nothing regular.  I even went to a Christmas light festival that night.  I’d been waiting weeks to go and I swear my labor was waiting for it. At the zoo I don’t remember getting any contractions until we got in the car again.  We had a great night and took great pictures.  I went to bed that night sore but without any serious labor.  I had the same thought I’d had before going to bed for weeks – “Maybe I’ll wake up with contractions?”
 
December 20:  I woke up with contractions at 12:30am.  My first thought was, “I am special.  I’m going to have this baby on my due date. Only 5% of women do that.  This baby is special.”  I laid in bed timing for an hour before deciding to get up.  I bounced on my ball, took a shower, walked around.  As it was the middle of the night, I didn’t know what to do with myself.  My contractions were stronger and ranging from every 5 mins to 10 mins.  I stayed up an hour waiting for things to fall into a rhythm that never happened, so I resigned to going back to bed. 
 
The next morning and day were a lot of the same.  I happened to have a doctor’s appointment and I had dilated to a 2 and was still 50% effaced. I told the doctor about the mucous action and I could see he was happy I was finally bringing him labor news.  I had worried that he would try and shuttle me to the hospital – a fear of all vbac mamas – but he surprised me and told me to go home and rest as long as possible.  I listened and took a nap that afternoon.  Contractions were continuously stronger and I could feel them even when I was resting.  At this point I had trouble talking normally during one, but could still talk.  I was averaging 4-5/hour.  We went to my mother in laws that night and I had several irregular but strong contractions there, and we decided to take a walk.  We walked for about 30 minutes and as soon as I was walking my contractions fell regular to every 4 minutes, then every 3 minutes then almost every 2 minutes.  My last two contractions on my walk stopped me.  I couldn’t talk or walk and had to hang on to Cameron.  Somewhere in my mind I remembered that being a sign of labor, but was still prepared for them to stop at any moment because it’d been 2 days now.  I tell myself – surely if it had been real labor, it wouldn’t have taken 2 days to start up.  As soon as I stop walking the contractions slow down.  We left around 8pm to go home and “wait and see”. 
I’m going to start time-lining now since this is where it gets fun.
 
I decide to take a bath when I get home, and it was truly to stop the contractions.  It’s what has worked for me in the past and I wasn’t so sure I was in labor anymore.  I laid in the bath for about 30 minutes with a few contractions but nothing too bad. I decide to get out and I’m not out of the bath for more than 5 minutes when I get one of the many to come mega-contractions.  It came on strong and fast and lasted – I’m not kidding – 3 minutes and 42 seconds of hard core sharp contraction all over my body pain.  It felt like 3 contractions lumped together, I could feel the major peaks of several contractions together without any pause.  In this “you are definitely in labor moment” was I feeling excited?  Nope. I was terrified.  I had expected a steady increase of pain as contractions slowly got closer together.  I didn’t anticipate days of mild to moderate contractions, a bath and then this horrific 3 hitter contraction.  The pain of the contraction also surprised me.  I was so sure of my ability to disconnect from pain, and I wasn’t able to disconnect from this.  By 10pm, my contractions were every 4-5 minutes.  I was moving from the ball to hands and knees to chair and nothing was relieving the pain for me.  Every time I stood up or sat down I would get a contraction.  Every time I peed I would get a mega contraction.  They were getting stronger and I felt tired.  Days of contractions, hours of timing contractions, weeks of anticipating labor and only a few hours of sleep had left me tired. I texted my doula around this time and she was there by 11pm.  She observed my contractions, and walked around the kitchen with me for a while or sat quietly and watched me have contractions on the ball.  
 
After about an hour, I had a compulsion to take another bath. The bath was my favorite part of labor. I put on the hynobabies CD and honestly was able to go to a place where I was having contractions but was disconnected and not feeling pain or worry.  I think I even slept.  Towards the end of my bath the contractions were starting to penetrate my happy bubble and so I decided to get out.  I stepped out and had another mega-3xcontraction.  This one was so incredible that I couldn't call out to Cameron who was resting in bed like 5ft away.  It was gnarly.  I started to cry.  It ended and I told Cameron, “I’m going to go tell Pam we’re going to the hospital now.” I went to the living room where Pam (the doula) was hanging out while I bathed.  I started to cry more and told her that I was ready to leave for the hospital. This was my first emotional breakdown. I told her I was scared of how painful the contractions were and that I was frustrated at how much they were hurting me.  I remember specifically saying, “I thought I would be stronger” and “The contractions are really big and scary.”  Pam and Cameron hugged me.  We left for the hospital.  At this point I was moaning very dramatically through all the contractions which now felt back to back.  I didn’t give a shit that I sounded like a wild animal or one of those crazy birthers in natural birth videos.
 
Did I already mention that any bump, touch or even noise disturbance gave me a contraction?  I kept my eyes tightly closed starting from the car ride and until I was in the labor and delivery room hours later. When they checked me at 1:30am at hospital triage, I was 80% effaced, 5cm dilated with “waters bulging”.  It was around the car ride that I had mentally decided I wanted an epidural.  I was desperate for relief and felt like I’d had non-stop pain for the last several hours without any breaks in between.  My brain was broken and unable to cope anymore and I was exhausted. When I told Cam it went like, “I want an epidural – and not in the way that I want you to talk me out of it but in the way that I want an epidural right now.”  Around 2:30ish we got to the L&D room and the epidural was practically waiting for me.
 
The epidural provided about 80% relief at that time.  I remember I still felt cramping and my left hurt more than my right, but I was cool with that.  Compared to the previous hell of contractions, it felt like PMS.  I was able to rest for a few hours.
 
Around 5 or 6am, they checked me and I was an 8.  I was elated that my body was doing stuff.  I’d only gone to a 5 before with my previous labor and I was relieved that my body knew how to go higher than that.  I was getting more pain at this point, especially in my back.  I asked for a little more epidural because I wanted to be pain-free at this point.  When I had decided to concede to my previous convictions about a natural birth and get an epidural, one of the major benefits was obviously to go throughout the rest of the birth pain-free.  I wanted my money’s worth of that goddamn epidural.  The extra epidural made my right leg hopelessly numb but made me 80% comfortable again.
 
Around 9am, I was 9cm, 90% effaced, waters bulging.  I asked to be sat up so that his head and contractions could work my cervix more effectively.  As soon as I sat up, my water broke.  It was just a matter of time at this point – or so I thought! Muahaha says the birth karma monster.
 
This is where time gets funky.  Somewhere around 12:30p, they wanted me to try pushing.  I was having more and more pain (stupid, stupid, worthless epidural) and was actively feeling every contraction again.  It felt even worse being dead from the waist down and having to work through contractions while stuck in bed.  Torture!  They told me to start pushing basically because I was 10 and my epidural was obviously running out.  I would have been more excited to hit 10 if I weren’t in so much pain again.  I tried for maybe 15-20 minutes pushing and that’s when the nurse told me that he was still -1 station.  I decided I didn’t want to push.  I could tell by the way the nurse and Pam were looking at me that I must have looked like a hysterical laboring pregnant woman – the kind that say they want to go home while they are pushing.  But I knew that I was exhausted, and in pain, and that I wasn’t feeling any progress when I pushed.  Something from one of my classes or videos or books stood out to me – just because you are a 10, doesn't mean you’re ready to push.  I remembered, “Wait until you feel like pushing.  Let the contractions do the work for you until you feel ‘pushy’.”  As calmly as I could muster, I told them I wanted them to top off my epidural so I could rest and let the contractions work him down.  I asked them to give me an hour and then I would push for them. I knew my explanation was solid, so the nurse really couldn’t really argue.  They ultimately agreed.  We turned on our “chill labor playlist” and Cam, Pam and I rested for an hour.
  
I woke up to turning my head left and right every time I was having a contraction– which hurt again, by the way.  Stupid worthless epidural!  I was also having a lot of negative thoughts at this point. Truthfully, I was trying to figure out how I could get a c-section without outright asking for one.  I was desperate for an easy way out and terrified at what I had to do, and how bad it hurt.  I was angry that I’d seen women totally painless during epidurals but felt so much pain still with mine.  I laid there for a good 15 minutes with all of this going on in my head and ultimately decided to try for my baby.  I asked Cam to come over and pray with me.  He said, “in my head or out loud?” I said, “OUTLOUD.”  He prayed thanks for me and my strength, and that I would continue to feel strong and that our baby would come out healthy.  I sobbed.  This was my 2^nd emotional breakdown.
 
Shortly after that, I started to push involuntarily with contractions.  It was still just the three of us in the room, and I’d been asking for hours to get on my hands and knees but the nurses said no because of my epidural (understandable but didn’t stop me).  I started to get in it myself and Cam and Pam were forced to help me and probably pretty much held up my dead legs while I pushed and rocked through that position.  I spent maybe 5 minutes in that position and then it was really go time. 
 
I got on my side and starting pushing.  It’s around this time that my mind really surrendered.  I had no more self-talk or any thought besides the coming and going of contractions and visualizing my baby.  No one had to tell me when to push, and no one tried to tell me. Sometimes I felt like breathing through a contraction, other times I felt like pushing.  They held my legs for me, and the nurse came in and out of the room only a couple of times to stretch me and holler about pushing.  She was not good for my labor vibes.  I know I told her a few times to stop touching me. After about 20 minutes I started to figure out where to push from – I had been pushing from my birth canal and then had the moment of grace where I visualized pushing from the top of my uterus. I pictured his little feet at the top of my uterus and I pictured his feet pushing against the top of my uterus as I pushed and I felt his head get lower in my pelvis.  Around this time people got really encouraging about my pushing. “Good job!” they said.  I can see his head!  You’re doing it, baby!  It was encouraging on some level, but I could feel I was doing it and was kind of emotionless at the moment.  I was intensely focused on the task at hand.
 
Around 3:20 pm, December 21st (about 17 hours since legit contractions started).  After an hour of pushing, his head was right there.  They asked me if I wanted to feel it, and I did out of curiosity but felt immediately annoyed that it just felt like a swollen angry vagina.  I felt no head.  Around this time, the doctor wasn't there yet so I spent the last 10-15 minutes being told to do little 5 second pushes which is reallllllllly hard when your whole body feels the desperate urge to push the baby out of you. When the doctor got there, it had an immediate calming effect on me.  I thought to myself, “Doctors only show up to catch.  You’re close.  The head is right there, they are telling you to slow down so you don’t push him out too fast.  Once the head is out, the body comes right out.  That’s what happens on all the baby stories.” My eyes had been firmly closed the entire time I was pushing.  I had shut out the part of me that was thinking.  It was like there was a calm quiet me, sitting on a chair in a dark empty room deep inside of my brain –totally disconnected with what was happening to my body.  My quiet dark room version me was calmly instructing me on the logic of what was happening and how to do it most effectively.  So only after a couple minutes of the doctor being there, and I got to push the head out.  He said, “Now one more push so we can get the shoul…..” and his little body came tumbling out (says my husband).
 
December 21, 2012 at 3:41 pm - They put him on my chest and had to tell me to open my eyes.  This is the part where it got amazing and beautiful.  Absolutely unreal and bigger than anything I’ve ever felt. I was so high with the combination of seeing him, having him on my belly, skin-to-skin like I’ve wanted for months and knowing that labor was over.  And our big baby didn’t disappoint– he came in at 9lbs and 5oz and 22.5 inches long.  I didn’t tear a single bit thanks to the skill of my doctors and nurses and that agonizing 15 minutes of half pushing.
 
Cam and I had told our family in advance that we didn’t want anyone there until everything was said and done.  We ended up getting about 3 uninterrupted hours of holding our baby – the majority of that time was spent skin to skin with me which was really important to both of us.  In my previous birth experiences I remember feeling stressed and anxious for the first week, I left this delivery feeling much more bonded with this baby, more relaxed and just generally happy. 
It occurs to me that I didn’t pepper throughout this story just how important my husband was in every stage.  His touch was anesthetic to me.  Even having a hand on me during contractions made the difference.  When I would bury my head in his neck, his smell was soothing to me.  I remember panicking when he would even go to the bathroom because I wanted him by me and touching me at all times.  He is my soul mate and my battle partner.  There is no way I would have been able to do this without his unconditional support and unconditional love.  Oh look, I’ve made myself cry.
 
My doula Pam was also a blessing and a huge emotional support for me the entire time.  Just having her in the room and with us offered us such comfort and confidence.  My most valuable memories of birth with her are our interactions during my multiple emotional breakdowns.  She was always telling me that I was doing it, that I was strong and that everything was normal.  “Normal” was a huge comfort word for me since nothing seemed normal to me. 
 
Take-aways:

The trauma of labor is fading and I’m starting to appreciate how much easier overall a vaginal delivery is to a c-section.  Certainly, it sucked in the moment but then the moment passed and it was done sucking.  C-sections continue to suck for weeks.

I’m not disappointed in myself for getting the epidural.  It was a good lesson in control for me and remembering that things won’t always go as I planned.

I’m proud that I had my vaginal birth after being told for months and by numerous people that I couldn’t.

I’m proud that I went into spontaneous labor without induction.

I’m proud that I knew to get on my hands and knees which I believe put him in the final good spot to get pushed out.

I’m grateful for the clarity of mind and courage to speak up to tell them I wasn’t going to push yet.

Mostly I’m grateful that God answered every prayer of mine.  That I would have a safe and swift delivery. That I would not require any interventions.  That we would be blessed with a healthy child.  This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and my most valuable achievement. Plus, I got a beautiful little boy out of it. 

We are blessed.

Here is Milo, 3 months old, proudly rocking his vbac onesie.