I adore reading and listening to birth stories. It is fascinating how a ubiquitous experience like having a baby is quite unique for each person each time they go through it.
I want to share my three birth stories.
For posterity, for solidarity, to pass down gained wisdom, and to connect with other moms. I do not share with an agenda in mind regarding pain relief methods or birth interventions. I simply will share what happened to me, what worked for me, and what my personal choices were. I think hearing stories from others is a great way to self-reflect on our own priorities and preferences. That is, if something I chose to do strikes you, it might be because you relate and resonate with it, or it might signal that it’s not what you’d choose at all. That’s fine- great even! It’s information that can help you form your own future choices and views on the topic at hand.
All that being said, here we go with my first birth story!
Our Firstborn
We knew our firstborn was going to be a girl.
I couldn’t handle all the changes that were about to happen without knowing. It sounds silly in hindsight, but something about knowing the sex of the baby made me feel like I could prepare better, mentally and physically. We had decided on her name before she was conceived. We felt ready (LOL).
My due date came and went, so they scheduled me for an induction at 41 weeks per my hospital’s policy. Ideally, I did not want to be induced; I preferred to go into labor naturally. I was scared of the induction process, and I preferred to not have surgery (c-section), which I knew could result from having a larger baby that could potentially get stuck. I wanted her out as soon as possible! (C-section moms: please don’t take this as criticism of your method of birth. I was simply scared of C recovery. I am in awe of all the ways babies safely enter the world).
After two different membrane sweeps at my final OB appointments, I got my wish.
At 12:38 pm on Saturday, January 28, 2017, my water broke. We went out to breakfast that morning, and when we got home I cleaned the toilets. We were ready for things to start moving! It’s funny to think back on because when you’re overdue, you typically haven’t made any plans and it’s kind of nice. For the first (and last) time in years, I was bored. I was laying on the couch, literally just waiting. I put on the “Feel Good Labor” playlist on Spotify that I had created, willing labor to start.
I felt this gush, not forceful, more like a release. I could feel fluid coming out and I jumped up off the couch, faster than I’d moved in months. I ran to the bathroom, managing miraculously to not get the couch wet. I knew this was it, though I realize now that labor doesn’t start immediately for everyone whose water breaks. My husband Chaz was right there and we talked about our plan. I texted my mom, brother, and sister, “Don’t freak out, but I think my water just broke.”
My plan was to try to labor at home as long as possible. I went upstairs and took a shower, Chaz standing right outside the door, timing my contractions using an app. It was hard for me to tell when a contraction was beginning and when it was really over, but I was trying. By the time I got out of the shower, Chaz said “they’re five minutes apart; the app says to go to the hospital.”
We called and they told us to come on in. I was trying to dry off and get dressed but I was taking forever because I kept stopping to have a contraction. I was managing them okay by getting on all fours, but Chaz was getting nervous and encouraging me to get to the car. The car ride SUCKED. I don’t think I opened my eyes the whole way there. I was in pain but the contractions were not easy to define because I wasn’t getting a break between them. I had heard you are supposed to get time to catch your breath between each one, and I was still experiencing constant, extreme cramping that wasn’t letting up (and I had never done this before so I had no point of reference). I was breathing hard and trying to practice the mindfulness and breathing tips from the books I had read.
When we pulled up to the hospital I thought it would be impossible for me to use my muscles to get out of the car. Chaz went and got a wheelchair from the lobby and brought it right to the car, and I managed to get into it. Inside, there were nurses who tried to ask me questions but I really couldn’t open my eyes or speak besides short responses. They decided to let me skip triage and admit me just by how I was acting.
They helped me transfer to the bed so they could check me, and to my dismay I was only 4.5 centimeters dilated. I was expecting more. I had wanted to hold off on an epidural for as long as I could, but after hearing my lack of progress I started to panic a little. I wanted to be laying on my side—where the pain was more bearable—but they wouldn’t let me. They said the monitor they strapped to my belly wasn’t going to work correctly if I was on my side and that I had to stay on my back. To this day I resent them for this, because I don’t believe it had to be this way, and it led to quicker interventions in my opinion.
They started to place an IV for fluids and said I would need a liter of fluid in me before the anesthesiologist could do the epidural. My sweet husband started to tell them my preference to forego the medication, but I stopped him saying, “I don’t think I can do it. I’m not getting a break at all.” I wanted relief. My contractions were two minutes apart with continued severe cramping in between. It felt like the intensity of labor should have meant more progress, and that scared me because I didn’t know how much worse it would get or how long I’d have to endure it.
It seemed lightning fast that the anesthesiologist arrived, if you can believe it. My incredibly sweet nurse Nicole held me from the front so I would stay still as they did the procedure. Everyone says they’re afraid of the big needle they use, but I hardly noticed it with the contractions. I could feel the little tube going into my spinal column, though. It didn’t hurt, but I will never forget that weird feeling. Once it was over and I sat back in bed, it was instant relief. This epidural worked like magic. I opened my eyes and introduced myself to everyone in the room for the first time, suddenly a completely different person.
From that point on I was relaxed. I was free of pain, but could still feel my feet and move my legs a little, so I wasn’t too freaked out by it. My mom arrived shortly after and we just hung out for hours, listening to my labor playlist and sneaking jolly ranchers. My mom was amazed because she had never had an epidural with her three kids, so she didn’t know labor could be so calm and social. My contractions stayed two minutes apart, but I imagine they dampened in intensity with the epidural. I think it was about seven hours from the time I got the epidural to when they said I was 9.5-10 cm dilated, but it seemed like the time flew. By that time, my brother and his girlfriend (now my SIL) had arrived and we were all just hanging out. I started to feel increasing pressure downward, like I had to poop. It was unpleasant, but not too painful. That’s when they said I should start the pushing phase, so everyone but Chaz left the room. This was around 9 p.m.
At 9:15 p.m. I started pushing. I remember because I asked the time and the nurse thought it was a very strange question. I didn’t like her. My sweet nurse from before had left at 7 p.m. and I was left with this bossy lady. She tried to instruct me how to push, but with the epidural I wasn’t getting the hang of it very quickly. Honestly, I feel like they should have waited longer for the baby to move down further on its own before having me push. So for the first forty-five minutes of pushing, nothing much was happening and the nurse kept telling me I was doing it wrong. In hindsight, the baby wasn’t ready and I was exerting all this energy unnecessarily, and not without harm done in the form of lasting hemorrhoids.
I was told to hold my breath and push for ten straight seconds at a time when a contraction was starting. She’d tell me when to start since I wasn’t sure when they were happening. It felt unproductive for a long time. After that, I started to get better at it (I guess) and the pushes were more productive. The nurse would walk away at times and leave Chaz to coach me, which was really nice. The lights were dim, the music was on, and it was just the two—well, three—of us. The nurse actually said I pushed better when Chaz was coaching and counting for me versus when she was. Probably because her negative energy was making me tense!
Finally, the baby’s head made its appearance. Baby would start to crown during a push and then go back in a little when the contraction was over. They tried to tell me to keep pushing so that wouldn’t happen, but it was exhausting. The epidural was still working but I could feel the “ring of fire,” which feels just like what it is: skin stretching past its capacity. They had me reach down so I could feel her head. After a total of an hour and forty-five minutes of pushing, her head came out which felt like a huge relief. The body came out easily after that, and I barely pushed for the placenta a few minutes later. What really hurt was when they pushed on my belly to get as much of the lochia out as they could.
They wiped her off just a bit and laid her on my chest. She seemed enormous, and later she weighed in at 9 lbs, 5 oz (4.224 kg). She had jet black hair and full cheeks. She cried but only for a minute. She was here.
I am a firm believer in writing down your birth story, including all the minute details you can remember. There is so much that blurs over time, and retelling it while it’s fresh can be a wonderful moment of nostalgia or a medium for processing through a tough experience if things didn’t go as planned.
It’s nice to recall that I didn’t try to romanticize birth too much. It is a rite of passage for women, of course. But it’s not something so exclusive that the average person can’t “achieve” it. There isn’t a secret password to be discovered. It happens. And then you’re in the club. Congrats! The dues are high. But the perks are worth it.
Let me know if something from my first birth story stuck out to you or resonated with you!
Stay tuned for scenes from my next birth: THE WILD ONE.
xo, Amy