A natural induction

I always heard “you never remember the bad parts about labor and delivery. Everything is erased the moment your child Is born.” For me that is not true. I remember every single second of our daughter Alice’s birth. I remember every....single...moment. I remember the waiting, the pacing, every contraction, every push, everything. Moreover, I feel incredibly lucky that I do remember. Because everytime I see Alice smile I remember experiencing bringing her into this world and the joy I felt through every painful second of her labor.

At 40 weeks my doctor checked me and shook his head. I was nowhere near ready to deliver Alice, and I was perfectly content to let her stay and cozy for as long as she needed. I did not want to rush her, and thankfully neither did my doctor. I had searched for a doctor that would be on board with a natural delivery, and Dr. Huggins was the ticket. He smiled at me and told me to come back at 41 weeks. There was no mention of induction. There was no talk of a C-section. I was in good hands.

41 weeks came and went with no change. I was still certain that Alice was healthy and strong and Dr. Huggins agreed. However he told me that at 42 weeks he would feel irresponsible if we did not discuss our options. I agreed and settled in for what I knew would be another full week. Sure enough I showed up, still pregnant, at my doctor’s office at 42 weeks. An ultrasound revealed my amniotic fluid had decreased and my placenta was well past its prime. Dr. Huggins hugged me and told me, “it’s just time”. Tears immediately welled in my eyes and I envisioned another induction experience like the birth of our 5-year-old son, Homer. Dr. Huggins knew how strongly I felt about being able to have an un-medicated birth so he suggested trying a balloon catheter first. My husband, Philip, and I were excited at the prospect of still being able to go into labor at home as we’d hoped. We left the doctor’s office with a little spring in our step (as springy as you can get at 42 weeks).

The balloon catheter went in. The balloon catheter came out. There was no progress. I was certain I would be sent immediately for a high dose of pitocin, encouraged to have an epidural...the works. Instead, Dr. Huggins suggested starting me at a very low level of pitocin. He wanted me to be able to go without an epidural if possible, and stick to as much of my birth plan as he could while ensuring the safety of Alice. We went through an entire day of pitocin with absolutely zero progress. I was exhausted. I had laid in bed, watching the clock move slowly, nervous that at the end of the day they would crank it up and throw me into the landslide of labor interventions. Wrong again. Dr. Huggins made a crucial decision to remove me from pitocin, allow me to have the night off, get some food, get some sleep, and start again the next day with the pitocin. I was shocked. Another day? Two days of this? I was surprised and overjoyed! I had never heard of going on and then off of pitocin. And where was this option during my first birth? I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Huggins was not about to rush this birth.

Alice was still thriving, and Huggins knew that if I continued pitocin through the night I would be too tired to endure the marathon that was ahead. So instead of staying the course of many a modern doctor, Dr. Huggins stop the IV, unhooked me, encouraged me to take a walk and to eat a fabulous dinner with my husband. Whole Foods pizza never tasted so good.

The next morning, bright and early at 6am, we started our second day of pictocin. My body had been warmed up, and a couple hours later my uterus finally decided to wake up and join the party. The contractions started very slowly. Dr. Huggins still wanted to mimic natural labor as closely as possible, so I was started on the pitcocin very slowly. As they increased the drip in small increments the contractions grew stronger. I wanted to get out of bed, to move my hips and let the contractions flow through me as I walked around. Unfortunately, I still had my trusty IV with me, so the walking IV pole became my friend, traveling up and down the hallways with me Philip. My husband and I entertained ourselves as much as one possibly can while wandering the same hallway back and forth for an hour. It was a good time for us. We knew what was ahead and our nervousness and excitement were bundled up in a tightly wound ball of anticipation. I tried to unwind that ball in my head with every step I took. I breathed. I listened to Alice. I felt my physical self in a way I had never experienced before. As I walked the contractions grew stronger. At one point I had to stop and brace myself with the hand rail with each rush. The waves passed over me and Philip and I started laughing again. I knew as long as I could talk and laugh we had a long way to go. Then the talking stopped. Philip looked at me (slightly scared) and asked if he needed to call Aimee. I shook my head, no. Two minutes later a contraction almost took me to my knees. I told Philip to call Aimee....NOW.

We slowly made our way back to the room and Aimee arrived. She was the most welcome sight I had seen all day. Her energy flooded the room and suddenly I knew that I could do this. I could push through these walls and get to the other side. Her calm gaze and reassuring touch told me that I was doing what millions of women had been doing for millions of years. This was what my body was engineered to do. I felt the confidence I needed to labor and deliver Alice.

The contractions quickly grew intense and very close together. I moved from the ball to the shower to the bed. I finally settled on the ball as my favorite place to ride the contractions. Aimee was with me the entire time. She kept telling me how great I was doing, and kept reminding me that I would meet my baby soon. This got me through the darkest moment in my labor. Each contraction was its own monster. And each time I felt myself sliding into a rabbit hole of despair Aimee and my husband were right there to pick me up again. At one point I felt this was my destiny, to be endlessly in the pain of labor. I knew I had to continue but I wasn’t sure I had it in me. And then suddenly I was there. Every cell in my being told me to start pushing. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time. Aimee gave me the green light and told me that if my body was telling me to push then I could push. I was on my knees with my upper body leaning on the ball and with the next contraction I felt my muscles work in a way they had never worked before. It was the most excruciating feeling and yet it felt so good. I felt powerful. Eventually Aimee told me that I could move to the bed and face the wall to push. I took her advice and somehow made it to the bed. I continued to push and Aimee’s voice in my ear kept encouraging me every minute along the way. And then suddenly things moved quickly. With a single push I could feel Alice drop and begin to crown. I’m pretty sure this is when I started yelling. Aimee told me to stop for a moment but I couldn’t. I had to keep going. My body was exhausted and I knew that if I didn’t push Alice out in the next minute I couldn’t go on. I was facing away from the rest of the room so I didn’t know what was happening behind me. With the nurse’s and Aimee’s approval I kept pushing and suddenly I felt Alice slide out. It was the most incredible feeling I have ever experienced. In the next few seconds a crowd of people flooded into the room and things got a little interesting.

What I could not see was that Alice was born without my membranes rupturing. My water never broke. Immediately after she was born there was a scary silence and lots of rushing about. Alice was suctioned and soon after she gave a loud cry. My heart finally started beating again.

They laid Alice on my chest and I tucked her inside my nightgown. It is a feeling I will carry with me the rest of my life. The way she looked in the seconds after she was born is forever in my mind. I felt high in the best way possible. I had experienced every single second of her journey into this world. I felt as though I couldn’t even concentrate on what people were saying to me. The world was spinning around us and I was completely lost in this little person in my arms. Aimee’s guidance during Alice’s birth was an invaluable gift. Her presence gave us the calm encouragement we needed to get through the most difficult moments. Looking back on the overall experience I know that the education and support she provided allowed us to have the birth we had hoped for. She was a constant source of emotional strength and humor when we needed it. I’m not sure I could have gotten through my labor as well as I did without her by my side.

My second baby, another fast birth!

Elias Hawk was born on September 9, 2013 at 10:20pm. He was 8 pounds, 5 oz. and 20 inches long. Here is the story of his birth day:

I was surprised how much my mood changed after I crossed the line past 41 weeks pregnant. Friday, I still felt bright and confident that things would continue to go well until Hawk decided to join us earthside, but as Saturday (officially one week post-dates) rolled by and there were still no signs of impending labor, I began to lose confidence quickly. Waking up Sunday morning at 41 weeks plus one day gestation, I began to question my ability to go into labor on my own. I was so discouraged.

To his credit, my sweet doctor never uttered the word "induction" to me. So many are quick to schedule medical procedures once a mama approaches post-dates pregnancy, but my doc remained encouraging and supportive of my low-intervention birth plan. Still, my next appointment was scheduled on Tuesday afternoon, and I knew we wouldn't be able to avoid the topic this time.

Sunday evening, the boys and I curled up on the couch to watch a movie together. Every few minutes, I'd slide my bottom off the edge of the couch and allow myself to dangle in a squat, supported by my arms. I wiggled my hips, trying to help Hawk engage his head into my pelvis. I could tell he was still not in the right position to be born. I felt his head grinding on my pelvic bone once again, and suddenly I knew. He was trying to come down, but couldn't get his head past my pelvis. Remembering the day big brother Seth was born, I recalled vividly how my oldest son had been lodged behind my pelvic bone and I spent nearly four excruciating hours trying to push him around it. I remembered how bruised the top of Seth's head was when he finally emerged, and how I felt as if I'd been hit by a train for weeks after. I never told anyone how traumatizing his birth had been until early into my second pregnancy, because I had so much pride wrapped up in having "accomplished" the goal of having a natural birth the first time.

I decided then that, if I woke up pregnant one more day, I'd immediately call a chiropractor. I'd never been to a chiropractor before, and I have a fear of new experiences. I resolved that I was more afraid of having another traumatic birth, and swallowed my pride. Monday morning, I called the chiro that Aimee, my doula,  had recommended and scheduled an appointment for that afternoon. I knew it was possible the adjustment would put me in labor, and I was nervous. Eric stayed home from work Monday, and he took me to the chiropractor appointment. Afterward, we took Seth out for popsicles and an afternoon at the park. By the time dinner rolled around, I felt virtually the same, although as if a ton of weight had been removed from my lower back and hips. I still wasn't having contractions. Eric said he planned to go back to work Tuesday morning, and I felt deflated.

During the seven o'clock hour, I texted back and forth for a while with Aimee.  I confessed how scared I was of the prospect of going into labor alone the next day while Eric was at work, and she encouraged me to trust God's perfect timing. At eight o'clock, I sent an encouraging text to a friend from church who was scheduled for a 7 AM cesarean the next morning, feeling happy for her but anxious for myself. I headed to bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt tears well up in my eyes. But then, I felt God say to my heart: "I will never leave you or forsake you." 
"Thank You, Lord," I responded.

I dozed off, but after a while, a strong pain in my pelvis woke me up. It eased, and I rolled back into my pillow to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, I felt another pain. "Eric?" I called tentatively into the next room, afraid to say anything about the pain and then have it go away.

Eric came to the bedroom and I told him I'd had pains. "What time is it?" I asked him.

"9:05," he said. "Should we call someone?"

"I don't know." I hesitated. What if I called someone to come get Seth and the pain disappeared? That would be so embarrassing and frustrating. "No, not yet. Wait. Yes. Yes, let's go ahead and call someone."

Right after calling Eric's mom to come pick up Seth, I got another pain. It had been five minutes since the last. I knew I'd made the right decision immediately, and began to gather my things. Eric started to get Seth ready to go, and Seth was crying that he was scared to go without us. I felt so bad, but I couldn't dwell on it and I headed for the car with my purse and a water bottle. Eric brought a blanket from the bed out and laid it across our backseat, and he took Seth's car seat out to move into his mom's car. Seth came outside, and I heard him say, "I'm not really scared anymore. Just a little scared, but I'm ok." I was so proud of him. Right then, Eric's mom pulled into the driveway: it had been about fifteen minutes and I'd had at least two more contractions.

Through this, I'm texting back and forth with my sister and my doula. I fired off texts to everyone who'd asked to be notified when I was in labor so they could pray for me. I am amazed now that I had the presence of mind to follow through, because I had lost reasoning ability altogether almost as soon as labor began the day Seth was born. His birth had been relentless, and I felt so out of control. This time, I was totally lucid.

I crawled into the backseat on my hands and knees, and Eric started the car. The song "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman was on the radio, and I began to sing along with it right as another contraction began. As we pulled out onto the main highway, the song ended and a voice on the radio read a passage from Psalms:

From the ends of the earth I call to You,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge... (Psalm 61:2-3)

I leaned into the armrest on the car door and made that my prayer. With every contraction, I prayed and asked God to take me outside the pain: I imagined myself flying over it like an eagle. In between contractions, I continued to communicate with people by text: a friend from church, my sister, my doula (who was waiting for her husband to return home to be with their kids before she could leave to meet us). I kept an eye on the clock at the top of my phone display, and I noticed the pains we coming closer: now four minutes apart. I looked up for a landmark reference and eyed the back of a retail store moving quickly past on the side of the interstate. I asked Eric where we were, and he told me: we were about halfway there.

Closer: three minutes apart. I looked up for another reference, and texted my doula again: 3 min apart ... passing Hwy 119.

I'm not far behind you, she responded.

Right as we pulled around the curve of our exit ramp, I braced myself against the toughest contraction yet. Immediately, I thought: I'm in the transition stage. Transition is the point where most women lose any composure they have remaining. It can feel like you're losing your mind. I was amazed that I was able to process the thought and identify my body's progress. Almost there.

I had about three contractions like that before I felt the car ascending the ramp into the parking deck at the hospital, and then another contraction with the definite urge to push came. "I can't walk," I told Eric.

He hurriedly chose a handicapped space and left to go alert someone of our arrival. I climbed out of the car: as soon as I stood up, my body began bearing down and I peed all over myself. I felt Hawk's head move into the birth canal: a sensation I'd never been able to identify during Seth's birth, which had felt more like my whole lower half was being ripped apart with no distinguishable progress.

I had two pushing contractions standing there beside the car, and became convinced I was going to have a parking lot baby. Then, Eric returned with a nurse and a wheelchair. I panicked. I couldn't imagine sitting in a wheelchair in this state. At that moment, Aimee arrived. For the life of me, I don't know what she said to me but I calmed down enough to get in the chair and off we went.

A beautiful woman in scrubs was walking through the parking deck at the same time and joined us in the elevator. I only caught bits of what was said between her and the nurse, but I registered the phrase arrived just in time and thought they were just talking about me. I didn't realize then that the woman was the on-call OB, who'd arrived the same time we did!

When we arrived on the L&D floor, the nurse said, "We're going to room 12." I looked over my shoulder at the room numbers passing by: 15... 14... 13... Finally.

We got in the room, and the nurse asked me to undress and put on a gown. Somehow, I was able to comply in enough time to climb on the bed on hands and knees for the next contraction. The nurses were swarming, someone asked me to lay down. I shook my head no, and my doula asked them if I could stay like that since I was more comfortable that way. Then I looked up and saw the beautiful woman from the elevator in the room, and someone said, "Sarah, this is Dr. H------," and she said, "We already met in the elevator."

Eric's behind me, saying, "You're doing so good. He's almost here! We're almost done."

My doula was in front of me, whispering "You're safe. So close."

Someone says, "Sarah, lets turn over, and with the next contraction you can get him out."

I mustered the will to move and turned over, and that's when I felt the so-called "ring of fire": another sensation I'd skipped altogether the first time around. It was scary, but I knew then they were right and I was about to meet my baby!

With the next contraction, I pushed twice, and the ring of fire worsened but his head still wasn't out. I took a deep breath and committed to push one more time even though I didn't think I could: and there was his head. One more contraction, and his whole body emerged into the nice doctor's hands, and she placed him right on my chest. I was ecstatic!

He was perfect, clean, calm and blazing hot! I held his warmth next to me and couldn't stop smiling (even though I was still in pain!).

After a few minutes, the doctor looked at the cord and decided it was done pulsing and put a clamp on it. She turned to Eric and asked him if he wanted to cut the cord: of course he did! Someone asked me then if it was ok for them to take him or if I wanted to hold him a while longer. I agreed to let them take him to measure his vitals while I delivered the placenta.

I needed a few stitches: the doctor told me Hawk had his hand up next to his face when he emerged. She was very gentle and I barely felt a thing while she stitched me up.

My doula stuck around for quite a while, until I was relatively comfortable and Hawk was returned to me. She went to our car and retrieved my camera bag for us: I fixed the settings on the camera and handed it to her so she could snap some pictures of us with our youngest son. I was so grateful for her presence.

Start to finish, my labor only lasted one hour and twenty minutes. I am in awe: totally unable to believe I was able to accomplish such a monumental feat in such a short time.

The moment I met our youngest son, I knew our family was complete.

 

Accomplishment, joy, and leaving a legacy of natural birth

Before I had a natural birth, I was a natural birth. Back in the 80’s, when epidurals were the cool new thing and very few moms were going the natural route, my mom did. She told me her birth stories,and my dad told me how proud he was of her. I grew up knowing that when I had babies of my own, I wanted to birth them naturally.

However, that’s not how it happened with my first baby. As soon as I made it to 40 weeks, my doctor pressured me to schedule an induction. I reluctantly agreed, feeling that I didn’t really have an option. So, early on the third day past my due date, my doctor broke my water and started Pitocin. It got very intense very quickly, and I took an epidural as soon as I could just to save my strength. My sweet boy was born safely that afternoon, and I was thrilled.

For several months, I was content with my first birth. But occasionally I would meet someone who’d had a natural birth, and I still felt tingles in my spine as they talked about it. I had a deep need to fully experience the birth of a child, in all its challenge and for all its glory. I knew I would never be content if I didn’t. Three years later, when we were pregnant with our second baby, I was determined that it would be different this time. I found a new doctor, I hired Kelly as my doula, and I took a childbirth class taught by Fredia.

Apparently I bake my babies a long time. My due date came and went again, with only erratic contractions. Finally, on the fifth day past 40 weeks, I woke up at 1 AM with crampy contractions! I got up and ate a little bit while I timed my contractions. They kept coming, and I coped easily using deep breathing and relaxation techniques. I got my husband up when I was sure this was the real thing. I moved from a sitting position to lying on my side, and eventually I settled into an all-fours position. That’s where I was when Kelly got to my house. I was so excited to see her; it was really time!

Then the contractions really started getting intense. Standing or sitting upright during a contraction was almost unbearable because of the downward pressure. When deep breathing was no longer enough to help me relax, I started vocalizing a deep moan. This helped me continue to cope through those stronger contractions. After several of those, Kelly started encouraging us to get ready to move to the hospital. I was well past the stage when the doctor tells you to call, but we knew I wanted to labor at home as long as possible in order to streamline my admission to the hospital. We left the house around 6 AM. We drove fast down I-59, with our flashers on, me on my knees in the reclined front seat, facing the back. Once we got there, I had a deep urge to get settled in my room, to be on my knees in a bed again and stay there until this baby came out. I hustled inside, stopping to lean on something during contractions. I remember people kept asking if I wanted a wheelchair (as if I could have sat down!). When I got in my room, I got back on all fours in the bed. The contractions were really intense by then, and some of them were doubling up on the previous one. I remember thinking I couldn’t do this much longer. Those 5 minutes were evidently my transition phase. About that time, I was rather curtly telling the nurse that she couldn’t check my cervix until I was ready to push. She was a good sport and left me to it while she gathered her equipment. Not long after she left the room, my body kicked into a whole different gear. I was in the middle of a contraction, and all of a sudden, completely involuntarily, my back curled up like a cat and I was bearing down. I managed to tell Kelly, “Urge to push! Urge to push!” We had no idea what my cervix was like since I had so tactfully dismissed the nurse’s requests to check it. So to be on the safe side, I really needed to resist that urge to push until she came back. When you’re in childbirth class and they tell you to “blow out the candle” when you’re trying not push, I just don’t think it’s possible to convey what a monumental a task that is. It’s like trying not to sneeze with a feather in your face, only 10 times stronger. But for the most part, we managed. We finally got the nurse back to the room, and I still don’t think she really checked me because my baby’s head was already in the birth canal. That’s usually a good sign that your cervix is open. Wow, the relief! I got to push through the second half of that contraction, and then I got a break. Everyone around me was scrambling, I think; I had only been in the room about 30 minutes, and they were trying frantically to get my doctor in the room. But I was in another place. I was vaguely aware of all that going on around me, but my task was inside my own body. I knew it was doing its job, everything was going to be fine, and wow, it was already almost over. I was tired and ready to have a break, but I was not afraid.

My doctor made it just in time. The baby was crowning. My body pushed her head out with very little active effort from me. One more contraction and we had her shoulders out – she was born! Praise God! I had done it! I cannot describe what an amazing, exhilarating feeling I had right then. Up until that very moment, I still felt just a bit of nagging uncertainty. What if something went wrong? What if I needed an emergency C-section? What if I just got tired and discouraged, or I didn’t stand up for the kind of birth I wanted, and I accepted unnecessary interventions? What if it went like last time? But in that moment when she was born, when I gave birth to my baby, all those little what-ifs popped like bubbles all around me and I was left with exceeding joy and accomplishment. And then, as if that weren’t enough, I turned over and they handed me my baby. I held her close against my chest, skin to skin. She was sooooo soft. I nuzzled my mouth and cheek against the top of her fuzzy little head, and she snuggled into me. She started rooting, so I helped her find my breast. She latched on easily, and we were nursing! Soon I had another contraction, and I gently pushed my placenta out. Dr. Stone stitched up a small laceration while my baby and I cuddled. For several hours I just felt warm and fuzzy and wonderfully happy.

Altogether, my labor was about six and a half hours. I stayed in the bed afterwards and rested with my baby, ate a big breakfast, and took a shower. By the time all the family arrived, I was fresh and clean and moving around. My recovery was so much easier the second time – no swelling from IV fluids, far fewer stitches, no narcotic pain medication (or its side effects), and less muscle stiffness thanks to my mobility. But by far the best thing about my recovery was the emotional high. My body created its own pain relief with oxytocin and endorphins (and no medicine interfered with that process), I was in a natural state of euphoria that carried me all the way through the postpartum period. I was emotionally healthier after my second birth, in large part due to its being a totally natural labor. I had done it. I carried the art of natural birth through to another generation. And I was finally content.
~Jennifer