"I got my perfect birth"
Thursday, April 15, 2010 at 7:14AM 
Before I became pregnant, I knew I wanted a hospital birth, but did not want any doctors to intervene or pressure me to “hurry up” my labor process unless medically necessary. I just wanted to be in the hospital in case of an emergency, and, if there was no emergency, I wanted the nurses and doctors to just let me birth, uninterrupted.
I didn’t know who my delivery doctor would be, because the practice consisted of about 2 dozen doctors. Some people said that that was a disadvantage. I knew it was a blessing in disguise. Because I purposely scheduled and met a new OB during each prenatal visit, I had the opportunity to establish a rapport with many doctors, and became very comfortable communicating with every doctor, as my due date drew near.
I read up on all common medications given to women during birth in hospitals and I studied female anatomy like a med student preparing for her final exams. I decided to drop out of Lamaze and depend solely on the breathing techniques I learned playing a musical instrument in high school and meditation techniques I had learned through previous visits to a Buddhist meditation temple.
To add to my personal support team, my spouse and I hired a very experienced doula. And together, the three of us sketched out what I envisioned as my ideal birth experience.
I had my team. I knew what I wanted. I felt prepared.
I told family and friends the baby’s due date was two weeks later than what it actually was, just to ward off phone calls and the repeated question, “has the baby arrived yet?” I didn’t want psychological deterrents, mental distractions or performance anxiety. I wanted all my mental and physical energy to go towards birth, not devoted to answering other people’s questions.
Unfortunately, I felt my family was not confident in my ability to birth without all the drugs and medical intervention. I received a lot of negative comments and unwanted directions from all kinds of family about how I didn’t know what I was talking about. The comments included statements about how I was a first time Mommy and I was almost foolish to be saying and planning the things I was doing, even though I had my doctor’s approval that what I was envisioning for myself was pragmatic and reasonable.
As a woman, it is my birthright to birth in the way I see fit, so I ignored those who didn’t have confidence in the labor I wanted for me and my child.
I actively sought out and talked to doctors and nurses who were laid back and pragmatic and willing to let me try and birth how I wanted to birth. I found many supportive doctors (and a few supportive nurses) who did not stand in my way - but who also firmly stated that if the health of the baby or mother were in jeopardy, they would intervene in a flash.
I was really pleased with the doctor’s responses to stay out of my way, unless the baby went into distress.
39 weeks pregnant.
Thursday night. The night before I went into labor. I felt different. I told my spouse something was different, but I wasn’t sure what. I kind of felt a natural high.
Friday morning. I began shedding my mucous plug around 8 am. Also, for some reason, I made a lot of phone calls to my family just to chat - which is very strange for me, because I am a very private person, and don’t like to chit chat. But my body felt strange and I figured it was braxton hicks kicking in and just wanted to talk with some women. I finished my last phone call around 2 pm, and then the contractions began at 3 pm.
Friday night. I thought for sure these were Braxton Hicks contractions I was feeling and emailed my spouse to take a walk with me after he got home from work. My spouse arrived around 5 pm and we went for a walk. We walked a couple of blocks and I didn’t think I could make it home. My brain was wrapped up in what I was feeling. I wasn’t feeling any pain, just extremely distracted by how different I felt, and how new all these feelings were.
My spouse offered to get the car and drive me home, but I declined, because I knew walking would help whatever was happening along.
As soon as we reached our home, I took multiple showers to relieve whatever it was I was feeling, and then diarrhea set in, and I had severe diarrhea once an hour for four hours. I figured my body was preparing for labor, but thought labor would happen in a week or two. I kept drinking a lot of water to stay hydrated.
8 pm Friday night. I warned my spouse that we might need to go to the hospital, but that it was no big deal, and the hospital would probably send us home. My spouse gathered all our things and packed the car. By the time the car was packed, it was almost 10 p.m. and there was no room for me in the car! I imagined giving birth to our child in the car and having the kid hit the floor as we drove to the hospital, and I became panicky.
I made my spouse call 911. The 911 operator asked how far apart were the contractions. I screamed over my shoulder that they were probably Braxton Hicks contractions and that I wasn’t timing them because I was probably having false labor. At this point, I was crawling on my hands and knees around the bedroom floor to try to catch my breath and waiting for this “false labor” to end - so I could have a peaceful, restful good night’s sleep.
The 911 operator said she would help us time the contractions, and after I had a few contractions, the operator said I was 3 minutes apart, and the ambulance was on its way. First the fire truck came. And the fire rescue people helped me into their truck. They looked concerned and asked me if I was pushing. I said no, still convinced that I was having false labor, but also unable to have a conversation because the contractions were taking up a lot of mental space. I wasn’t in any pain. I was extremely focused.
Then the ambulance arrived that would zip me off to the hospital. The driver and the emergency guy in the back of the ambulance with me were cracking jokes and were in a jovial mood. The guy in the back told me to do what I had to do to get comfortable, and that if it was time to deliver the baby, he would catch the baby, no problem. He reassured me that he had 4 kids and had personally delivered 4 babies in this ambulance, and that everything was going to be OK.
Friday night, 10:30 pm.
When I arrived at the hospital, I decided to eat something, even though it was against hospital rules. I took one bite of a Clif Bar (one of my favorites) and immediately threw it up, along with all the water I had been so diligently drinking to stay hydrated. This was a big letdown for me, because I knew that my muscles needed a lot of water to deliver this baby, and so I wanted to be hooked up to an IV drip ASAP to rehydrate. I didn’t care that I was hooked up to a pole, I just wanted to be hydrated.
10:30 pm and I was uncomfortable, but not in major pain. I had anticipated a lot of pain, but found comfort in my spouse, my doula, and my meditation and breathing. Those four things gave me comfort. I also found comfort in silence, my music, and the fact that if I wanted an epidural, I could ask for one.
The nurse came in and asked me if I wanted an epidural. I said, “I don’t know,” and when the nurse left, I quickly told my spouse that I thought I needed an epidural because although I was not in major pain at the moment, I was afraid of the unknown pain headed my way, and wanted drugs.
My doula gently told me if I could just get through this one contraction, that was all I needed to focus on.
Whenever a nurse came into my room and asked me if I wanted an epidural, I said, “I don’t know.” I said this on purpose so I didn’t feel any pressure from the nurse to receive the drug. I wanted to delay the epidural as long as possible.
Doc H made his appearance. He would be my delivery doctor. I had 3 previous appointments with Doc H and he knew how I felt about interventions. He took one look at me bent over a table, breathing through a contraction, and then said, “I’ll be here when you need me, just around the corner,” and he left.
I was so happy Doc H left me alone.
My spouse, doula and I were escorted from triage to the room where our child would be born.
The room was very, very quiet. There was an area already set up for when the baby arrived, and the whole scene was surreal. The lights were dimmed. It was a very personal and private experience, just how I had envisioned for myself. My spouse hooked up his iPod and played my favorite tunes.
I knew I was 3 cm dilated and refused all additional vaginal exams right up until the point when I told the medical team I wanted to push. I settled into my new surroundings and the thought that I would have contractions for the next 18 hours - and relaxed into the mental state that I would be in this room until morning, and then my child would be born.
I soon lost track of time.
The nurse put an external monitor on my belly, but because I refused to get into the bed, the monitor kept falling off. The monitor was not designed for a woman to be in any position but lying in the bed. I knew Doc H would put an internal monitor on me if I couldn’t keep the external from slipping, but I absolutely refused to get into the bed for any moment of time, so I was resigned to the fact that Doc H would probably make me get an internal monitor. That was better than getting into bed, lying in supine position, the worst possible position for a laboring woman.
My nurse came in the room and politely told me that she would be fired if she couldn’t get a good read from the monitor, so we negotiated: my spouse would hold the monitor in place with his hand and I could keep standing and moving about.
Around 2 am, I felt the urge to push, but held back because I didn’t know if I was fully dilated, and then my water broke, and then I was sure the clock was ticking. I had read that for most hospitals, once the water broke, I had about 12 hours to deliver before the medical team would start to intervene. I was happy not to have the amnio hook to break my bag of waters, but also knew of possible time limitations now imposed on me and my unborn child due to standard operating procedure of the hospital.
Then I became mentally desperate. Although I wasn’t in a lot of pain, I was afraid, and my fear was causing me distress.
I didn’t know how bad the pain would get and I was afraid. I pleaded for the anesthesiologist to get into my room and get the drugs in my system. My fear of needles was nothing compared to the fear of unrelenting pain like I had never felt before. The only reason I thought the pain would be unbearable was from other women’s experiences, not my own experience, and although I appreciate other women’s experiences, in my case, the pain never got as bad as I thought it would. And the amazing thing about my body, was that I was feeling some kind of runner’s high or euphoria that just naturally blocked a lot of pain.
The anesthesiologist came in looking like he had just rolled out of bed. He was very tall and thin and did not look like a medical person. I looked at him suspiciously until he introduced himself, and when I realized the drug man had arrived, I welcomed him to sit on the couch and make himself comfortable. I was very relieved the drug man had arrived. I did not have to fear the unknown anymore: the drugs would get rid of any potential pain.
He looked at my chart, ran his hand through his hair and told me there was a problem. Due to something he saw in my chart, I was not a good candidate for an epidural. When I realized I wasn’t going to get my drugs, I said, thank you very much, now get out of my room.
I think it was about 2:30 am. I turned my attention to Doc H and began pleading and trying to negotiate with him, “can’t you GIVE ME SOMETHING, an ASPIRIN IN MY IV BAG … ANYTHING??” And Doc H checked my dilation: 10 centimeters. He said it was too late. No drugs for me. It was time to push. I was thinking, “I am not too sure about this labor thing. I am not too sure about this Mommy thing. I don’t think I am ready for this.” And someone in the room was reading my mind, because someone in the room said, “it’s time to birth this child. No going backwards. Only forward. This kid is going to come out.”
No going back. OK. Here we go.
About 2:45 am. The nurse and doctor told me to get into the bed and I was reluctant. Then the nurse told me that I would birth my child and the child would hit the floor, so it was best for me to get into the bed. I got into the bed because I felt it was time to birth this child.
And I pushed. And with the first push, that kid slid down the birth canal and the doctor told me my son had a lot of hair. Each contraction I got 2-3 pushes in. And in-between each contraction, I got to rest for a couple of minutes. And during my rest, we talked about life and music and just waited. It was very pleasant. And there was no pain in between contractions. And the pushing hurt a little, but not as much as I had anticipated. And I tore, but I didn’t feel myself tearing. I guess all those hormones took good care of me.
My son was born at 3:15 a.m.
So, with no epidural, no pitocin, no anything, I was surprisingly not in a lot of pain. I was beautiful, actually. And my son popped out after about 4 or 5 contractions, and there was minimal tearing.
But my placenta didn’t come out so easily. I asked for more time for my body to deliver the placenta naturally, but after almost an hour, Doc H said it was time he stepped in and intervened. He did the fundal massage. And then he manually went into my body and retrieved the placenta. And it hurt. And I yelped. But the placenta was intact, and my cervix was fine, which was very important to me.
And then a med student sewed me up, which was creepy, to think about her sewing my vagina up, and I screamed some, and was kind of a wimp, but my body was getting kind of tired. I hadn’t had anything to eat for 15 hours and I was ready to get out of that room with my new baby. I did get a little drugs in my IV bag when I was being sewed up, but the drug was weak, similar to a local numbing agent a dentist would use.
The medical student tried to clean all the blood off of me when she was done sewing me up, and then apologized to me because she wasn’t doing a very good job. Although I appreciated her professional care, I didn’t mind being all bloody, because I was so happy with how the birth went, and how good I felt.
The baby breastfed within 30 minutes. He was very alert.
A bunch of nurses descended upon me and cleaned me up and cleaned the baby up and rolled us into our private room where we could begin our new lives with our new family. I was shaking uncontrollably for about 15 minutes, and three nurses told me it was my hormones adjusting.
We requested early discharge from the moment we hit our recovery room, and left the hospital 36 hours after baby was born.
For the following week, I still felt that natural euphoria - it was amazing to feel all those hormones take care of me. Very little pain. Other than a single aspirin, I didn’t need any additional drugs for pain. After a week, I felt my whole body shift back into its regular patterns, and the natural high began to abate. I am very proud of how my body took care of me.
My labor & delivery was the best event of my life.
Submitted by Beverly
Reader Comments (4)
Yes! The world needs more positive birth stories like this to pass on to our children. Stop the birth horror stories. They just perpetuate womens fears.
Great story, Beverly! I'm 41 weeks today and looking for some encouragement and this really helped...exactly how I hope my own birth plays out sometime this week. Thanks for sharing.
I'm really glad this mom is happy with how her birth turned out. That's incredibly important!
I couldn't help but think, the entire time I read this, how LUCKY this mom was, to avoid interventions, that she was unable to get the epidural, that her body didn't shut down when she got to the hospital. She shouldn't need to have luck on her side. She shouldn't have needed to be thinking about how to avoid interventions, about being "on the clock," about which drugs she did and didn't want, while her body was trying to give birth. Isn't a little sad that THIS is considered a triumphant birth? NOT ending up with a c-section or other unnecessary interventions? It really sounds like this mom bought into all the worst stereotypes and cultural artifacts about birth that exist in our society. Starting with the belief that she needed to be in a hospital "in case of emergency" -- assuming that birth is actually safer in a foreign place, filled with germs and strangers, driven by efficiency & profit, than in the comfort of your own home with a qualified support team. Followed by all the fear surrounding the pain of birth, not trusting her body (thinking she needed an IV to replace fluids she'd vomited), buying into hospital procedures (letting a student stitch her up, thinking 36 hours is "early" discharge) etc. I really hope she will consider all the benefits of an out-of-hospital birth next time.
If you're reading this and are pregnant, then I will say what my BELOVED DOULA said to me: you were designed for this. You are very brave. I believe in you. You can do this.
While I was laboring, and I was scared, I will tell you what my doula said to me that helped me THE MOST: let's not think too far ahead. Let's just focus on this one contraction. We don't have to think any further than this one contraction.