my birth story

As much as I would like to continue my hibernation indefinitely, to do nothing but stare at my little girl, I must hunker down and get my birth story written or else I may forget the details. And I don't want to forget a thing. It started at 10:31 p.m. on Saturday night, August 1st. The hub and I had been everywhere that day - walking through the mall, going by Babies 'R Us (which was closed) and driving around. We had even stopped by Braums for a cheeseburger and blackberry and almond yogurt cone (gestational diabetes be damned). Perhaps we somehow knew our independent adult-only freedom was coming to an end. We went home and settled into watching tv, me stretched out on the couch. And I got up to pee, which sent a gush of water soaking my pants. I grabbed my pants, staring at the hub wide-eyed. Neither one of us said it. I offered that perhaps I had peed myself and went to the bathroom to investigate. I laid back down, still not ready to think that this was it. Laying on the couch again, another gush. FInally, the hub said it. "I think your water broke." It was so tv movie-esque. Did you know that only about 13% of labors start with your water breaking? The hub grabbed the hospital bags to finish packing and I called my sister to let her know what was happening. The hub and I hurried around the house addressing our individual chores, him packing and me doing dishes (nesting kicking in) and the nervous energy was palpable. FInally I called the hospital to tell them that I thought my water broke, and they told me to come on in. I knew that my water breaking meant no laboring at home, no warm bath with my iPod, so I wasn't in a rush to get to the hospital and leave home.

The hub packed the car, loading in our bags, pillows, everything I was told I would need and would later never use (the make-up never came out). We put Sadie in the bathroom, freaking her out even more. I grabbed the video camera and started filming once we got into the car. I focused it on the hub, who was at this point profusely sweating and in complete disbelief, as was I. We made our way to the hospital, a twelve minute drive that felt like routine. We wondered why we weren't more scared, more scattered, more shocked. Once at the hospital, we were instructed that the hub should drop me off and then park. No, I wanted to walk with him and we walked in together. After preliminaries, I told the nurse I would miss my belly. She said no one had ever said that before. In the exam room, it was determined that my water did break, so we were quickly admitted to a birthing suite.

At this point it was right after midnight. My nurse, Lauren, who I loved, was right there to monitor me and hand me paperwork to fill out. My doctor let me off the fetal monitors for thirty minutes of every hour so I could walk and move. At this point, I was not in active labor and had no contractions. But my water breaking put me at risk of infection, and normally labor won't be allowed to progress past twenty-four hours. I was up against the clock.

The hub and I walked the hallways, him pushing my IV station and me waddling. After thirty minutes of walking, I was given pitocin to kick-start my labor. I knew it was necessary, but I also knew that it made an epidural imminent. My labor started moving, and I continued to get up, walk, sit on the toilet (it opens the pelvis) and lean over the bed. My doctor, who was delivering next door, stopped by around 1:30 a.m. Based on the fact that I was only dilated one centimeter when my water broke, she predicted a twenty-four hour labor. By 4:30 a.m., I was only three centimeters and in extreme pain. My contractions, spurred on by the pitocin, were on top of one another, giving me no time to recover. All of my muscles were tensed up, and I was unable to get out of bed because of my shaking. I laid on my left side and gripped the hospital bed and the hub's hand, and just rode out the contractions as best I could. I was exhausted. And at 6:30 a.m., I got an epidural.

The hub and I took the opportunity to nap after the epidural. I was awoken at 8:30 a.m. and found to be 5-6 centimeters. At 10:00 a.m., I woke up with low cervical pain and was checked. I was fully dilated and completely effaced. My doctor was called (we later learned she was in church at the time and never received the message) and I practiced pushing with the nurse. That was quickly abandoned once we figured out that this baby was ready. FInally my doctor arrived and we were ready. Well, not me. I asked the hub if we could just keep her inside me, that I wasn't ready to do this. Up until that point it was figurative, and in a few minutes it would all be real - too much for my tired mind to comprehend.

A mirror was put at the end of the bed so that I could see what was happening. My pushing improved when I could see the progress myself. My contractions were coming regularly, and because the epidural had worn off some, I could feel them on my own. After thirty minutes of pushing, I saw the baby's face out, facing down, and squeezed by the pressure. One more push, and the shoulders were out as she flew into the doctor's hands. She was immediately placed on my chest and covered with blankets. She let out a scream and I was in shock - she was real. The hub and I looked at each other. We did this. We made her.

Her heartrate was high - over 200 beats. Instead of whisking her off to the nursery, the nurses decided to put the baby on my chest, skin to skin, to see if she could self-regulate by my heartbeat. She did. In thirty minutes her heartrate was down to 145, completely normal range.

In a couple of hours my epidural had completely worn off and I was able to walk. I wanted out of that bed so badly. The hub and I strolled to the nursery to get Britton and brought her back to the room for a visit with Josh's parents, grandmother, and aunt.

It was over so quickly. The birth was textbook - no emergencies, pretty much following the grainy video from birth class. But it was completely consuming. I studied this little person who had been inside me - a stranger, but for my knowledge of her kicks and hiccups. And I didn't even want to blink for fear of missing something - a sigh, an open eye, a wave of her hand at the side of her face. I am utterly and completely in love.