Christian's Birth Story

If you haven't read the blog entry previous to this, "Waiting For Baby...", it is the lead up of events to my actual water breaking. It gives you, the reader, an idea of what the few days were like before I went into labor. A lot of the "signs" people tell you to watch for were there! And I just didn't see or realize it because, well, who ever really believes they're going to go into labor two weeks early? I had hoped for as much, but I was mentally preparing myself for a late delivery. The following is the rest of Christian's birth story starting with my water breaking...

I got home from work at about 3:30pm after having stopped by Kroger for, gasp!, cleaning supplies. See, I had planned on cleaning the house that night because my doula was coming over the following day to create my birth plan. And since my house hadn't been deep cleaned in a while, I had every intention of doing it before she came over (at this point, I am not even considering "cleaning" to be "nesting"; just something that needed to be done). Upon coming home, I felt a little tired and layed down for a nap around 4:15pm. I set my alarm for 6:00pm expecting Ken to be home around 8:00pm thinking 2 hours would be enough time for me to get the house into perfect condition and have dinner ready (pretty ambitious for a 9 and a half month pregnant lady, huh?). Ken got home around 5:15pm and I stayed upstairs in bed while he stayed downstairs taking off his boots. I remember him saying, "Darling, it doesn't look like you're getting much cleaning done!" and me responding, "I decided to take a nap. I set my alarm for 6 thinking you wouldn't be home till late tonight..."

At that point Ken started telling me about his day from downstairs in the kitchen, and I started to get up to go to the bathroom when I felt a trickle of hot fluid start to come out "down there". I immediately tried to stop the fluid from coming out by doing Kegel exercises. When the fluid kept coming, I ran to the bathroom and yelled for Ken to come inspect the wetness that was all over my pants and panties. Ken rushed up the stairs, as he has done many times before upon me discovering some new and interesting discharge or bodily secretion, and looked down at my panties with me (thank God my husband isn't faint of heart...).

As we gazed into the panties, we noted that the fluid soaking them was clear and odorless and a little bit slimy (FYI- the goriness only gets worse...fair warning!). We were both a little perplexed because, let's face it, I think we both expected it to be just another case of "Stephanie peeing in her pants"...again. But it wasn't! It was amniotic fluid which meant my water had broken! I had expected to lose my mucous plug before my water broke and I expected this huge gush of water to come out when my membranes ruptured, but it wasn't like that at all! (Which just goes to show you how different everyone's birth story really is. Even the "norm" is such a small percent during pregnancy...) I'd stand up and Christian's head would work as a cork stopping the fluid from coming out. Then he'd move and the fluid would start leaking again. I'd sit down on a towel and a gush would come out and then he'd move, and it would stop. I continued to leak fluid up until the time Christian was born. Remember how I had more amniotic fluid than normal? Well, not only did I have 1/3 more fluid than "normal" (there's that word again!), but your body continues to produce fluid until you have the baby. My mucous plug (which looks like a raw egg) ended up coming out at some point as well, which produced a "bloody show" which is a small amount of blood that is usual after losing your mucous plug.

I called the doctor because I still wasn't convinced my water had broken and I wanted her confirmation. Obviously she wasn't in her office, so I left a message. I then proceeded to call work and talk to Margeaux, my assistant manager, and tell her that I suspected my water had broken. I then called my doula who confirmed my guess. As I was talking to Dianne (my doula) the doctor called back. The doctor (who was not my midwife, just the doctor on call at the moment) also confirmed that my water had broken and told me that I needed to come in to the hospital. I told her that I wasn't even having contractions yet and she said that I needed to come in within 3-4 hours anyhow.

Dianne and I talked about next steps and came to the conclusion that I would call her back when my contractions started instead of rushing to the hospital like many people do. I then called my mom (who was in Tennessee for the Women's SEC Basketball Tournament) and told her my water had broken and that she should head home soon. Her response? I think it was something like, "Oh shit!" Eloquent, huh? You see, I had been teasing her for months that as soon as she went out of town, the baby would end up being born. I promise I was just teasing her! I didn't really expect it to happen! I talked to mom at about 6:30 pm and she and Deanna were on their way home by 9pm that night.

Ken and I proceeded to clean the house because amazingly, it hadn't cleaned itself! I had this sudden urge to get things done that needed to be done...and I wanted it PERFECT! Nothing Ken did was good enough or fast enough or correct. I kept "following up" with him like I would with my associates at work. Poor guy...but I just needed everything to be done before I could have the baby and I couldn't do it alone especially knowing contractions were right around the corner. Because I was still leaking fluid, I walked around with a towel between my legs (sexy, huh?) and cleaned the bathroom and dusted and vacuumed.

Ken took a shower once the house was clean and layed down to take a nap. The poor guy had taken on a ton of work recently and had a horrible schedule in which we had scarcely seen each other during the past two weeks. He was exhuasted and knew he would need rest in order to make it through the next several hours.

At about 1:30am, my contractions had begun. I called Dianne and asked her what we should do next. We decided that there were risk factors in staying home once my membranes had broken such as infection, but we also knew that some women didn't go into active labor for up to 24 hours once the water had broken. I decided that the last place I wanted to be was in the hospital because once you get there you are on the clock and you have to progress on their terms lest you have an intervention. I told her that Christian hadn't moved very much and that I was concerned. She told me to do some fetal movement tests (as had my niece-in-law, Julia). So I ate some pineapple and sure enough! He moved around. It was at that point that I made the decision to wait to go to the hospital until my contractions were a lot stronger.

I took a shower and layed down next to Ken, trying to sleep in between contractions. It worked for about an hour until I had to get up and move around because of my own excitement. I then hopped on the computer and started blogging. That lasted for about 45 minutes until I finally couldn't type anymore. I woke Ken up and said, "Let's go to the hospital!". I called my doula and my mom and said, "Meet us at the hospital!". Ken and I packed my bag, gathered the insurance paperwork and headed there.

We arrived at the hospital at about 5:30am. My water had been broken for nearly 12 hours. We pulled up to the birthcare center and I was still able to stand through contractions, I just couldn't walk through them. Upon entering the unit, I was asked to fill out a bunch of paperwork...just what I wanted to do! (Did everyone hear the sarcasm in that?) The nurses started getting a room ready for me and I followed them while Ken went back outside to park the car. When they asked me about my water breaking I told them that it had ruptured at 5:45pm the previous night. From that point on, both nurses treated me as an alien life form for not having rushed into the hospital as soon as my water broke. They asked who told me to stay home until my contractions started. I told them that it was my choice to wait it out. When I told them I was expecting my doula and a doula in training to arrive and assist in my labor, they kind of looked at eachother like,"That figures..."

You see, doulas aren't always best friends with hospitals. Not because of the doula and her purpose, but because once you arrive at the hospital, you are on their clock. If you don't dilate fast enough or efface fast enough, they are ready with the interventions. Doulas try to prevent as many interventions as possible according to the mother's wishes. The hospitals get fidgety when they have an informed adviser to the mother there saying, "You know what? Before we use an intervention, we're going to talk about our options..." All of a sudden it is the hospital staff on the defensive and the actual mother who is in control.  That situation tends to make hospital staff uncomfortable when things are not moving as expediently as is convenient for them.

Ok, so...my mom arrived and I got changed into a hospital gown (THEY SUCK! Just sayin...) Then my doula arrived with her assisting/training doula (two for the price of one was great!). At this point, my greatest concern was that I wasn't dilated enough and had come to the hospital too soon. I was beginning to become very uncomfortable through contractions (especially since they INSIST you lie on your back while they monitor the baby's heart rate for 30 minutes straight).  That's when the nurses arrived...(At this point I want you to hear in your mind the theme song from "Jaws". Here, go on and set the mood...) One of them checked my dilation and effacing and the baby's station. At 6am I was 0 centimeters dilated but fully effaced and the baby was still negative 2 station. My worst nightmare was coming true! I was laboring and nothing was happening! I had come to the hospital for nothing!

They left the room and then came back in and said, not asked, but SAID, "The doctor is going to start you on pitocin." (Pitocin is the synthetic replacement for oxytocin which is the natural hormone that produces contractions. Pitocin makes (most people's) contractions unbearable and thus, they then have to have pain medication.) My immediate response? "I don't want pitocin. Why can't I wait and see what happens?" (My doula and I had talked about this very thing happening.) Their response? "Well, your water has ruptured, it's been 12 hours and you aren't dilating fast enough." My thought? "Not dilating fast enough for WHO?" That's when my doula stepped in and asked them to leave so we could discuss our options (thank God for that woman!). I told her that I'd like to wait until I could speak with the doctor to have any interventions and that that would buy me some time since there was a shift change. When the nurses came back in, that's what I told them...that I would wait to speak to the doctor. They kind of "humphed" off and left me to my laboring.

During the next hour and a half my contractions became stronger and I began tensing up really tight through them. My doula reminded me to relax my shoulders and breathe deep through contractions..."in through the nose, out through the mouth". She insisted that I go potty and that this would help me to dilate. By 8am the doctor showed up. But it wasn't just any doctor...it was my midwife! I was so relieved to see her that I gave her a huge hug while I sat in the bed. I was worried that a doctor would be delivering my baby instead of my midwife and that I would have to be on the defensive the entire time fighting to do things my way. I introduced her to my doula, my husband and my mom and the doula in training.

She then proceeded to check my progress. Checking someone might just be the most horrible pain in the world. I thought checking someone's dilation meant sticking a few fingers in to see how big the mouth of the vagina was. Boy, was I wrong! They stick THEIR WHOLE HAND IN YOU so see how big your cervix is. Whoa. Talk about intrusive! And then, on top of that she couldn't find the bottom of my uterus so she had to "search around" with her hand and try to "pinch" it. Again, whoa. A pain like none I have ever felt. BUT! There was good news that made the pain totally worth it! I had dilated to 3 centimeters, was obviously still fully effaced and the baby was at negative 1 station! Now that's what I call progress! At that point I was so ecstatic that I was bound and determined to have my baby my way...naturally! My body was working the way God intended! My midwife then said she'd be back in a couple of hours to check me again. When your membranes rupture they check you less to prevent infection which was fine with me...just sayin'.

The next time period was rough. I'm not going to lie. I began humming through contractions...almost like a "hummmmm" like you see in the meditating videos. I continued to empty my bladder at my doulas insistence. She wanted me to try different positions through contractions so that the baby would move down farther. I tried standing and it hurt like hell. I then got on all fours on the bed and tried rocking my hips and again, it hurt like hell. The only two positions that were tolerable for me were sitting up...not straight up...but kind of leaned back in the bed, and then getting on my knees and holding onto the back of the bed.

Because I had not rested the night before, I was super tired. I actually went to this place in between contractions...a place something like a dream-like or better, a trance-like place. The trance included me being super thankful for the down time between contractions. Even if it was only 1-3 minutes between contractions, it sometimes felt like 10 minutes and I was able to rest and go to that place in a trance. At this point during labor, my contractions were fierce and forced me to endure a hypnotic pain, but the times in between contractions were almost completely restful. I will tell you that during this time and throughout the remainder of the birth, any talking by other people irritated the crap out of me. I didn't voice this...that would have taken too much energy that I didn't have to spare. It takes a lot to get through contractions! I also didn't want to be touched. I didn't want any massages or hair brushes or pats on the back or anything else. I just wanted someone to hold my hand through contractions and then leave me alone. And even though I didn't voice any of this, my doula picked up on my cues through my body language. If someone would touch me, I'd pull away and she knew that I was not one of those women who wanted physical encouragement. Someone would talk while I was having a contraction and I would scrunch my eyes and wrinkle my forehead and she knew to tell people to stop talking. The one thing that was really encouraging was hearing her whisper to other people in the room that I was doing so well and really taking the contractions like a champ. I don't know if she knew I could hear her, but it made me feel like I could do it!

Almost two hours had gone by and the contractions were really bad. It was time for my midwife to come back in and I told Dianne that if I had not progressed that I would start to consider pitocin to help me dilate and that I wasn't sure if I could do it naturally. I was starting to lose sight of my birth plan. She told me to wait for Barb (my midwife) before I made any decisions...that decision time was for after the facts had been delivered and we could discuss the options. (See? This is why I hired a doula!) Barb came back in and checked me (WHOA! Talk about pain!). And what do you know? I had dilated to a 6! The "hardest" part of dilation was over! The thought came to me that maybe, just maybe, I could do it.

Now it was show time. Getting from 6cm to 9cm was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I didn't beg for meds, but I did get to a breaking point about an hour after Barb came in. I asked for relief since I was so unprepared for the pain I was feeling. I was moaning or humming, if you will, during contractions and even groaning after them. I had reached a point in my labor where there was no rest. There was no super adrenalin induced relief in between contractions. Dianne told me that they were going to call an anesthetist to administer a slight narcotic to get me over the hump...but that first she wanted Barb to check me. That was the deal. No meds till we check you. (Smart lady, eh?) So Barb came in at 11am and checked me. I was dilated to a 9! All on my own, I had gone from a 0 to a 9 in 5 hours since entering the hospital. I immediately asked 2 things (in moans and in between contractions)...1)How much longer? and 2)When can I start pushing? The answer to number 1? Not much. The answer to number 2? When you get to a 10.

The next thirty minutes were filled with a pain unlike any I have ever felt before. It felt like my pelvic bones were separating and a watermelon was being forced through my body. I read somewhere that contractions felt like gas pains. Well, the guy who wrote that is a jerk...and during that last little bit before your baby makes his grand entrance into the world is a test of your will and your strength as a person. It's not like you can pass out. Your muscles know what they are doing and even you know what must be done. There is no turning back. There is no last minute decision to opt out. You are fully committed to the pain; fully committed to the end result. Enduring the pain was noisy for me. Many women make no sounds at all, but I was loud. Not screaming or cursing, just moaning loudly rolling my head around and grasping at whoever's arm or hand was nearby...at this point it was Ken and Dianne since I was so close to delivering.

By 11:27am I was pushing. They didn't tell me to, but I felt like it was the only relief to be had. Apparently I had dilated to a 10 and it was time for Christian to celebrate his birthday! I didn't know what time it was or how long I would be pushing for, I just knew that my body was ready to push. There was a slight problem with this though. The "lip" of my cervix was still not open all the way. It was more of a football shape as opposed to a basketball shape and the baby's cord kept getting squeezed between my cervix and his body. They had me try to move his cord from this position by having me turn in different positions while trying to push the baby from my body...Like, whoa! Talk about pain!?!? You ain't seen nothin' yet...I was literally laying on my side, one leg in the air with me grabbing behind my knees and pushing. Luckily, the baby's cord moved after several pushes in that position and I was able to turn back on to my back and scoot down on the table.

They tell you to grab the backs of your knees and push your chin to your chest when you push; to push with your butt and not with your face. This makes total sense if you have ever been in labor. But there was still the problem with my cervix not being fully open. Barb had to open my cervix wider with her hands and Ken heard her say, "That's a tear..." I had torn sideways and that caused a burning sensation I continued to feel. I heard my mom say that the baby's hair was the same color as Ken's...I had no idea what this meant, but apparently his head was starting to poke through while I was pushing and then it would suck back in after the push was over (and since the baby had no pigment, he looked gray? Apparently like Ken's hair? Don't ask...) Ken finally told me that he could see the baby's head and he and Barb told me to reach down and feel it. To that point I didn't really have a tangible goal, I was just pushing (and not hard enough because the baby still wasn't out...). They had been telling me to push three times during contractions and that seemed impossible! But when I reached down and felt his head, that was all I needed to find the strength to push FOUR TIMES on the next contraction. And what do you know? There he was! There was my son! I leaned up in time to see him plop out on the table and I immediately started saying, "My son! My son! There's my son! Let me hold my son!" They quickly wiped him off and handed him to me. Oh, the joy! There he was, looking up at me!

Joy and pain have never been quite so united as when I held my baby immediately upon birthing him.

He was so warm and still wet and he smelled so good! Sweet and indescribable! I was filled with joy, relief, pain, gratitude and pride. I had done it! I had birthed my baby my way and there he was! Crying loud enough to wake the dead and loud enough to let the world know he was here to stay! And it was then that I knew my heart no longer belonged to me...it belonged to my son, Christian.

The nurse took him from me after a few moments. I was bleeding pretty bad and I had torn in many different directions from my labia to my perineum and needed to be stitched. The baby was still crying and though Ken was trying to comfort me and congratulate me and tell me what an amazing job I did, I told him to focus on the baby...to let Christian know he was there; to touch him, to hold his hand, to talk to him and reassure him. After all, mine and Ken's voices are all he really ever knew. Christian, in the process of being weighed and measured and checked, reached up and grabbed his daddy's finger. Christian scored an 8 on the APGAR 5 minutes after birth and then a 9 on the APGAR 10 minutes after birth...I asked the nurse later on what prevented him from being a 10 and the nurse said, "He's human. No one is a 10." So, you know I'm proud that my son scored an A+ on his first test! Still crying, the nurse handed Christian to his daddy. And do you know what? That little boy became silent. He knew it was his daddy that held him. He knew the comfort of his father immediatly...just like his mommy has known for years now.

While they stitched me up (and believe me, I wasn't refusing drugs at this point!), they hooked my up to an IV (I had opted for a hep-lock instead of going ahead with an IV in order to prevent fluids from being administered without my knowing) and administered a very small amount of pitocin to help stop the bleeding by forcing my uterus to contract. I also still had to pass the placenta. Ok, so whereas I have never given birth to a jellyfish, passing your placenta feels like that very thing. It was weird and not pleasant, but certainly not as painful as birthing a child. The next thing they had to do was check me for blood clots. Not gonna lie, this was the most painful thing about childbirth. You are no longer in a trance. There is no more end goal. It just plain out hurts like hell. But, it didn't matter, Christian was here and any pain at this point was totally worth it in order to be able to hold my son.

They put little Christian on my chest once I was stitched and had stopped the heavy bleeding and what do you know? That little boy latched on within a minute! He was already nursing after only moments of being born. Talk about a smart kid!

It would be another two days before we went home, but Christian came into this world weighing 7 pounds 3.2 ounces and measuring 18.5 inches in length. He was two weeks early but he came on the exact day that Ken predicted. Isn't that crazy?

And just as I have said before, little Christian just might save his mommy's soul.