Our girl’s due date was June 17, 2012. After a mild contraction fake-out on Friday 6/15, the due date came and went and I found myself humbly returning to work the week after I was due. My bosses and I agreed that I would work half days until I delivered; continuing to work gave me something to do, although working for an entire day would have driven me mad. (How many times can you have the “what are you still doing here?” conversation in an 8-hour work day? Plenty.)
On Wednesday, June 20, I awoke with mild contractions much like the previous Friday. Not to be fooled again, I went to work until noon and then went to walk a lap at the nearly defunct outlet mall in our area. I returned home in the afternoon and sat on our exercise ball for awhile. The contractions slowly got stronger and I increased in confidence that today was the day. I called my doctor’s office around 5PM and talked to the on-call midwife – who told me I was way too spunky, and to call back when I was less comfortable. I was disappointed that my midwife would not be available to labor with me that night, but thrilled to be in labor. A few hours later I was breathing through contractions and felt ready to go. We arrived at the hospital at about 8PM, dilated to 4cm.
Not knowing what to expect, I didn’t have a set plan with regard to pain management. But I knew I wanted to stay mobile for as long as possible. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible for long. At my first “intermittent” monitoring check, the midwife observed an abnormality with our girl’s heartbeat – late decelerations. This meant that her heartbeat was decreasing at the end of each contraction, which apparently is a bad thing. In an effort to increase her heartbeat, I was forced to lay in bed on my left side. Immobile and experiencing back labor, I quickly lost control and asked for an epidural. At the time I was dilated to approximately 6cm.
After the epidural was administered, it was recommended that the midwife break my water to hopefully speed things along. We were working against the clock with our girl’s decelerations, and the goal was to get her out before it became an emergent concern. I consented to the AROM, and it was recommended that I try to get some rest as it was now approaching midnight. The midwife retreated to do the same.
Every time I saw the midwife going forward, it was with bad news. First to suggest we administer pitocin to help things go faster. Then to ask me to wear an oxygen mask to improve flow to the baby. My mom arrived at the hospital during this time, and I think it must have been difficult for her to see her daughter with an oxygen mask on. The mood in the room was very tense, and it was hard for me to keep it together.
By 3:30 AM, I was dilated to 9cm but the risk for my daughter was too great. This being my first pregnancy, the midwife thought that if I were to try to push it would take longer than the midwife was comfortable with. The baby needed to come out now. She called the on-call OB, who of course was at home sleeping. While we waited for him to arrive, I did my best to come to terms with what was happening.
I’d never had surgery before, let alone surgery while completely conscious and aware of what was happening. Combined with the fact that our daughter’s health was in question, I became an anxious wreck. I struggled to breathe and communicate. Never having seen me like this and having no reason to anticipate it, my husband didn’t really know how to comfort me. Never having experienced this before, I had no way of coaching him. Unfortunately, I don’t even remember the midwife being present.
Once the surgeon arrived, things happened pretty quickly. I was wheeled into a very bright operating room, where our daughter was born via cesarean section at 4:21 AM as Madonna’s “Holiday” played on the radio. She was completely perfect in every way. I was relieved that despite a difficult labor experience, the end result was our beautiful, healthy girl.
Unfortunately, that didn’t ease my anxiety as I lay on the operating table. That was something I didn’t anticipate – the delivery happens at the beginning of the procedure; there is a good long period of open abdominal surgery that happens afterward. My husband and baby went across the room to be evaluated, and I was left alone to listen to the surgical team on the other side of the curtain discuss who-knows-what. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lonely in my life. At one point, the surgeon had to tell me to try to stop shaking as it was important that my body remain still during surgery. It was pretty rough.
In the hours following her delivery, I got to hold and nurse and bond with my baby – although I must confess that I’m pretty sure that her initial bond was with her father. In my immobile state, and with my extremely limited experience around babies, I struggled to soothe her. This feeling of inadequacy stayed with me in the days and weeks that followed, as did the negative feelings I harbored about my labor experience. I had chosen to use a midwife because of the additional support they provide – yet I did not feel at all supported by the particular midwife who was present for my labor. Instead, I got the same level of attention I would have received from an OB, without the benefit of having a surgeon on the premises as my situation became more emergent.
This is about as imperfect a birth story as you could find. But I am content in the belief that this was the way our girl was meant to enter the world. Through the experience, I learned a lot about myself (i.e. apparently I’m an anxious nutcase), the importance of a birth support team, and when it came time to prepare for our second child’s birth, I knew what experiences and feelings to anticipate. Of course I wish it would have gone differently, but at the end of the day this is our story, and all I can do is own it.
Our Girl
June 21, 2012
4:21 AM
6 lbs, 6 oz
18 inches long
Perfect.
Mommy Jogger 