BirthStory

The Births of AJ and LG

Launched into the World

It was a day in the last week of September when I waddled into my midwife’s office for another routine check.  At 37 weeks pregnant, I was prepared to wait several more weeks before seeing the precious baby kicking my ribs.  With my mind focused on the upcoming weekend wedding of my brother-in-law, I wasn’t prepared for her words, “You’re 2cm dilated and 80% effaced.  You might want to rethink leaving town for the weekend - 2 hours is a long way away if you go into labor!”

Oh the timing!  My husband was the best man and I was making the wedding cake!  Not go?  We really couldn’t do that, could we?  We headed home excited, wondering what to do, and feeling unprepared.  The next morning, I awoke about 4:30 and couldn’t sleep so I decided to make the wedding cake.  As I mixed up the first bowl of batter, I felt my stomach get all hard and then relax - weird!  Oh well, I had plenty to do. 

Soon, however, those little “weirds” were coming regularly, like every 10 minutes!  I flew into panic mode, determined that my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law would have the promised cake stopping every 7-10 minutes to breath through a contraction.

The cake was almost done - 8 hours later - when I collapsed in a chair in exhaustion.  Tears poured from my eyes as I realized all the energy I spent on the cake left my house in total disarray. So much for nesting! I also realized that those very regular contractions had tapered off within the last hour.  My mom called and told me to quit worrying about the house, to figure on staying home for the weekend, and to go take a nap. I did what she said!

Saturday and the wedding came and went without us.  Sunday also passed with not a tinge of a contraction to be seen and me feeling really guilty for not going to the wedding.  Monday dawned and looked like the very same thing.  By the time my husband came home from work, I was more than a little down on myself so he suggested going out to dinner to cheer me up.  As we sat in the restaurant, I felt something very strange, almost like my water broke, but there was hardly any liquid.  I had read it might just be a trickle so we debated for a while whether to call the midwife or not.  When I did, she told me what to watch for and then suggested getting some sleep and coming to the office in the morning.

Tuesday was a bright, warm October day as we headed to the midwife’s office.  She checked me and decided my water hadn’t broken, but informed us that I was dilated to 4cm and was 90% effaced.  Since our home was over an hour from the hospital, she asked us to stay in town for the day and then come back late in the afternoon to check again.  As soon as she checked me, I began having regular, mild contractions every 5 minutes. 

We wanted to speed them up so we walked around Wal-Mart for a couple of hours and then went to my mother-in-law’s home for the afternoon.  My husband was able to nap and I timed the 3-5 minute contractions until 4 o’clock. 

We headed back over to the midwife’s office to report that the contractions were regular, but not too uncomfortable.  She checked me again to find me dilated to 6 and 100% effaced.  Oh!  Within the hour, we were checked into the hospital and awaiting the midwife to break my water.  Once that happened, my contractions became painful, but not unmanageable.  With my husband, mom, sister and her husband to keep me company, we laughed our way (with little breaks for contractions) through the next 2 hours. 

I decided that I wanted to get in the Jacuzzi at that point and my family (other than my husband) had to leave for various reasons.  My mom said she’d call in a little while since it was probably going to take a long time.

I got in the hot tub and the water felt WONDERFUL!  I decided I was going to be staying in there for a while so when my husband wanted to call and update his mom, I readily agreed to wait for him in that warm cocoon.  He left the room and I thought someone was trying to rip my body in half!  WHAT WAS THAT?!? was the only coherent thought that I had.  As soon as my husband reappeared - after 2 more of those monsters that were tearing me apart - I asked to get out immediately. 

With the nurse’s help, my husband rushed me back to our room where I was checked and found to be 8-9 cm.  One more contraction and a wave of nausea.  I lay there waiting for the next one to come, but it didn’t it.  Suddenly a calm washed over me and I knew that the transition phase of labor was over leaving only the pushing part!  I was excited and said to my husband, “It’s over!”  He told me later he thought I had truly lost my mind because of the pain!!

I pushed for 18 minutes and then my daughter was handed to me.  It was 9:04!

A Leisurely Sunday

My second daughter decided to take a different course.  She wanted to fake me out!  Several weeks early, I was checked and found to be 2-3 cm dilated.  Since my first daughter had come within a week of that marker, I expected this little one to be at least as soon.  The weeks went by and I told my husband that I had decided I was just going to be pregnant forever.  He laughed, I didn’t!

I awoke on a mid-January Sunday morning thinking that maybe the induction date of next Saturday was really when I would see my little one.  I headed to the shower and that’s when I noticed that I was bleeding.  I called the midwife who reassured me that it was likely the “bloody show” and that my labor was starting.  Since we live over an hour from the hospital in Colorado and it had snowed the night before, we left for the hospital before contractions started.  By the time we arrived, however, they were regular and I was found to be 4-5 cm.  The midwife arrived sometime later and broke my water - it was 1:45PM. 

I again got into the Jacuzzi and enjoyed the warmth and support it offered.  About 3:00, we headed back to our room and my husband admitted he was starving.  He called his mom and asked that she bring him a sandwich although I warned that he might not have time before the baby came.  My mother-in-law and sister-in-law arrived at 3:30 and my husband eagerly dug into the sandwich they handed him.  As he finished the first half, I returned from the bathroom and sent him to find the midwife.  His mom and sister headed for the waiting room and I pushed 3 times.  Our daughter was born at 3:51 PM.  After we were all cleaned up, my husband asked if he could finish his sandwich now!

The author is the thrilled mother of 2 girls under 2.  They are 18 months and 2 months old.  You can read more of their crazy antics at Raising Daughters!

The Birth of Izzy

Izzy's birth story starts on December 4th, when I was 38 weeks pregnant and I was sent to the ultrasound department because my fundal height was measuring a bit on the low side. My fluid level around Izzy was down to 2.7, 5 is considered low. They wanted to send me up for an induction immediately.

I have reservations regarding inductions as the hormones used for inductions may be associated with autism. (Pitocin is a synthetic form of oxytocin which is a "love" hormone. Apparently autistic kids are deficient in oxytocin. Autism also seems to be more prevalent in children born from inductions.) Partner that with my own iffy reactions to anesthesia- both general and local, and I was afraid of the hormones, and the possible spiral of intervention.

So I asked the simple question "Would it be dangerous for me to go home and come back tomorrow for another ultrasound?" The doctor had me take a non-stress test to see how the baby was doing, and he was kicking up a storm and his heartbeat sounded great. So they let me go, and I went back the next day. They still wanted to induce me. I asked if I could again go home and drink a lot of water and come back in two days. So I did that, and the next measurement was 7.2!

They wanted to keep an eye on me for the rest of the pregnancy. So I came back for another ultrasound, and it was up to 9.  Since at this point I was very close to my due date they started bringing up the idea of an induction AGAIN; they didn't want to let me go over 41 weeks. Since 9 was in the safety zone, I didn't have to restrict my physical activity anymore the way I had been. (I had been restricting my physical activity, taking an easily digestible form of iron in the form of blackstrap molasses to help my placenta out, and I had been laying on my left side as much as possible, as well as cutting out all caffeine and cutting back on the salt. All in an attempt to help my body build up the fluids since they said that drinking water seldom ever helped anyone. I was the first they saw that it helped!)

So my husband and I took a walk home from the hospital (we live in NYC). It was a 2.5 mile walk. By the time we got home it was 7PM and I was having semi regular contractions.

At 1AM we went to Labor and Delivery to get checked because my contractions were becoming quite painful and were regular and lasting for longer and longer. I was still only 1cm dilated 50% effaced. They sent me home. But before I went, they checked my water levels again! 10! They said to come back when I wasn't smiling so much. :P

I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep. At first my husband would rub my lower back for contractions. That helped for a while. But soon I had to jump out of bed for every contraction and lean against the door frame and rock from leg to leg. That turned out to be the best method of pain relief throughout the whole labor.

Throughout the day I had a couple of glasses of wine (as suggested by the labor and delivery nurses when we called in.) and took a 30 minute lukewarm bath to help with the contractions. Rocking in the water helped, as the waves of the water breaking on my back/belly seemed to move opposite of the contractions and wash some of the pain away. The wine and the water actually made about two hours of labor when I was about 5cm dilated into a state of bliss.

At around 6PM we were off to the hospital again.

We entered via the emergency room entrance and walked to the elevators. I had two contractions on the way to the elevators, and one in the elevator, and another two on the way to labor and delivery triage. Every time someone saw me, they offered a wheelchair- but I didn't want to sit down. The idea of it sounded painful. Walking and moving helped the pain tremendously.

This time around, triage was so full that there were three people waiting in the waiting room when we got there. I was further along than any of them. I leaned up against the wall and made my labor sounds (think a cow in heat, mooing and groaning) and rocked from leg to leg while perched on the balls of my feet with my legs spread out. My husband rubbed my lower back in firm downward motions, and between these two things it felt like the baby was being moved down by our efforts.

At one point I suddenly got the urge to push and squatted down. Horrified by my reaction I said "err. I think I need to push." These were the magic words. They got me out of triage and into a labor and delivery room quickly.

The urge to push turned out to just be my mucus plug releasing. I was now 7cm dilated and they weren't sending me anywhere.

They kept trying to get me to lay down on the bed for a 20 minute session of fetal monitoring. By the time I got admitted into a room I was 7cm dilated and rapidly progressing. (It ended up taking about 45 minutes to go from 7-10cm, when it usually takes about 1 hour per cm for a first birth.) I refused to lay down and kept swaying, which I think brought the baby on faster!

At one point the fetal monitors fell off, and we re-attached them. But at that point the "baby's heart" started acting funny and going UP during a contraction (instead of down) and then DOWN after a contraction. So they started crying "fetal distress". I got the whole "DEAD BABY IF YOU DO NOT LAY DOWN NOW!" speech.

I lay down so that they could check my dilation again, and the doctor said something about 10cm, and broke my water. Apparently I was fully dilated and I was supposed to start pushing. They broke the bed down and all of a sudden about 10 more people rushed into the room with all sorts of emergency equiptment and baby-warming beds. Pediatricians, another nurse, another doctor, a nurse for the baby, etc. Bedlam.

I remember telling myself "The bastards are going to push for a c-section even though I'm 10cm dilated," and I was determined to help Izzy out as fast as he could come.

They put in an internal fetal monitor and then realized that the machine in the room didn't have a connection for it! Poor little guy was born with a scab on his head from the stupid thing.

I knew it was just a bad monitor connection because it had been perfectly fine up until the monitor fell off, and Izzy was still fighting with every contraction- he hated the contractions. So I asked them to move the monitor to the other side because I had an anterior placenta and the doctors at the fetal monitoring unit that I went to for a few non-stress tests always had better luck on the other side. They ignored me.

After about 45 minutes of rather ineffective pushing (I wasn't ready to push yet and needed a slight rest, but they kept insisting on 3 pushes per contraction. They also insisted that I push on my back) his head started crowning. I faked a bunch of pushes to allow myself to recover and to allow his head to gradually stretch out the opening a bit so it wouldn't tear (the doctors were trying to pull the opening larger and it hurt like the dickens. It hurt more than transition! Ugh!)  At one point I felt the upper part of the opening begin to feel like it was going to tear, and I reached down and applied pressure to it. As I reached down, I felt his little head full of hair, and that gave me the energy to give the only three effective pushes that I had.. With that, the little bean was born. APGARs 9/9.5. He had been fine the entire time. They had been listening to MY heart rate!

But because of the fetal monitor hooey, he spent the first 5 minutes of his life being checked extensively by a pediatrician instead of in my arms.

Our introduction to breastfeeding was also sort of shakey. They encouraged me to stick him onto the breast immediately rather than letting him familiarize himself with it and naturally try to latch on. This resulted in a screaming festival on his part. I stopped forcing him, and had a miserable 30 hours or so in the hospital before discharge.. He wouldn't latch and wasn't filling enough diapers, so I was concerned I was starving him. At one point I almost gave him formula, but he didn't seem dehydrated and I didn't want to sabotage the breastfeeding relationship. So I waited.

 

At home, when both of us relaxed, he immediately latched on and has been exclusively breastfed for the full 2 1/2 months of his life.

Lil is a 26 year old Mom to Izzy, her first child.  She is a programmer and does freelance work from home, so she gets to spend her days with the little one while working.  Lil, her husband, and Izzy live in NYC with their three dogs. 

The Birth of Julie Yvonne

Julie Yvonne, December 31, 1965

My second experience of childbirth was distinctly different from my first. Instead of starting single and ending married, I started married and ended single.  Instead of losing weight, I gained in anticipation of morning sickness that never happened.  Instead of being delivered by an intern, Julie was delivered by an experienced doctor; and yet, he was unprepared for my behavior in the delivery room.

Julie was conceived when I thought I was already several weeks pregnant, resulting in my thinking she was overdue when she was actually premature. Instead of leading up to the event with false labor, because my water had broken and the placenta was parting, labor had to be induced.  However, this was still a fast and easy birth, with a labor of just under an hour.

The Birth of Richard Roland

 

I had a lot of morning sickness with my first baby.  Actually, I had so much morning sickness that I  weighed slightly less when I checked in for his birth than I had before I was pregnant. At one point an elderly doctor I was seeing before I signed up for the clinic gave me the straight scoop:  I would score some pot, take exactly one toke before each meal, or he would have to put me in the hospital on IVs.  That, he explained, was what they had done before marijuana was illegal.

The Birth of Sophia Katharine

It all started that Friday morning. I had the OB appointment with the horrid doctor who, I think, stripped my membranes without asking. It was a painful examination, not least of which because her fingers were so short.

I was quite crampy from that appointment on throughout the day, and then progressively more crampy with back achiness added in for good measure. All along, they had been telling me that if I don't feel it in my back, then it probably isn't contractions. So, about 2:30 that afternoon, I started feeling twinges in my back in addition to the contractions that started to come more regularly. Now it's funny to look back on these "contractions" compared to what came later. I wasn't mentioning them to Aaron at this point because I could still walk around and talk and joke while having them. I decided to experiment around 10 pm and tried doing a little nipple stimulation. Yikes! Things picked up then. Apparently, the stimulation released the right amount of oxytocin and convinced my body to get things moving along. I wrote an asterisk next to the 10:10 pm time recording because it was a noticeably stronger contraction. I had the same strength contractions until 11:30 when Aaron convinced me to call the OB office to check in and see what they would recommend. At this point, it was either try to go to bed or go into labor. My sister and mother had very short labors and I was a bit worried that if I stayed home, I'd end up having her here. I ended up not needing to worry about that.

The Birth of Sadie Grace

I was having what shall henceforth be referred to as "contractions." We were rushing out the door to the hospital. We were all really anticipating a lot of "pain" in our planned natural labor. This shall henceforth be referred to as the "age of innocence" or "we had no idea the hot flaming hell into which we were haplessly marching." No, no, it wasn't that bad; I'm just being melodramatic because I enjoy it.

The Birth of Selah Solis

This pregnancy was very unlike my first. I had so many aches and pains, and my groin hurt throughout most of it! I had major swelling to the point that it would hurt to walk; and I thought my feet were going to burst at any second! Seriously! I did not, however, have anything close to high blood pressure, so there was no worry about pre-eclampsia. My blood pressure always stayed at a low 90/60. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I could no longer fit into ANY SHOES. This becomes a problem when in the middle of November you're walking around in the snow in either flip flops, or Crocks. This makes for very wet feet!

At 35 weeks I was 75% effaced. The doctor put me on part time bed rest. I thought, "Oh, this will be great! I'm gonna go early and all the misery will stop!" Yeah, right, I'm not that lucky. For the next five weeks I continued to make it to my weekly appointments. I was getting fatter and more depressed by the day. At my 40 week appointment, the doctor stripped my membranes. This is very uncomfortable. She actually stuck her hand in there and seperated the bag from my cervix. Yowza!! Then we left the office and went walking around the mall until my poor fat feet couldn't take it anymore. I was having mild contractions, but nothing to get excited about.

That night I couldn't sleep. I was having some pretty good contractions, so I decided to get up and walk around the house. It was about 4am, and I didn't want to wake up my husband or my mother who was staying with us to help out when the baby was born. So I walked around by myself until 6am. Then I decided that since the contractions were coming about evey 3-5 minutes I'd wake up my mom. They still weren't very strong, just very regular. My mom didn't like that they were so regular and insisted that we go to the hospital. So, we woke up my husband and our other daughter. . . and drove to the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital at 7am . . me, my husband, my daughter, my mother, my suitcase, my Boppy, and my husband's guitar.  I walked up to the desk in the maternity ward and said very calmly, "My doctor said I should come in when my contractins were about five minutes apart, and they're about 3-5 minutes now. (I said this with a smile, and I actually took time to put on make-up and fix my hair before we went in!)  The nurse replied, "Well, we'll check you and then decide if we're going to admit you or not.  My, you brought a lot of stuff. . . hope you didn't jinx yourself!"   

I was put in a room, and I started reading my book. The nurse came in and checked me. I was dialated to 6cm!! She said "Well, I guess I'll let you get back to your book like nothing's wrong!"
An hour later at

8am...and the contractions still weren't strong, the doctor came in and checked me. I was now dialated to 8cm! She thought I should walk around the halls for a while. I walked, and talked to other women who couldn't believe I was dialated to 8 and smiling. I walked until my swollen feet started to hurt. Two hours later, at

10am, I was still only dialated to 8cm. I sat straight up in bed...because I heard that this position is great and gravity will help bring baby out. By

11:30am I was still dialated to 8cm! The doctor told me that maybe I needed to change positions. I decided to lie down on my left side. BAM!  Just like that I was ready to push! My contractions were still only about four minutes apart. I would push, then wait four minutes, then push, then wait. I only had to do this four times and my beautiful baby girl was out! She weighed 7 pounds 14 ounces and was 19 inches long.  She was born on her due date, December 8, 2005 at 12:02pm (Only 2% of babies are actually born on their due dates).

My husband was sick, (that's why he's wearing the mask...) and ended up passing a kidney stone an hour later!

The Flipflopmamma is 28 years old with two beautiful daughter's ages 10 years and 8 months. She's a stay-at-home mom with too much time on her hands. She is married to a pastor and loving it. Her blog is about her family, her faith, her everyday life and the joys that come with it. She's a mommy blogger, a Christian blogger, a journal blogger...she doesn't fit into any one category, and she's learning how great that is. She's a little flip, a little flop, and a whole lot of mamma!

The Birth of Maya Amrita

Maya was due on March 17, 2006.  But I was two weeks overdue, and extremely impatient, hoping to go into labor.  Ted and I had decided that we wanted it to be just us in the delivery room, no other family.  On the other hand, I had NO experience with babies; and I wanted my mom to be there to help with her when Ted went back to work.  So, we decided she would fly the almost 4,000 miles from Juneau to Philly one week after the due date, so she would be there to help us as much as possible.

Since she was 2 weeks late, our plans were obviously not working out as we had hoped.  My mom was there, ready to help.  But no help was needed for a week before Maya's birth, which was fine actually.  It was nice to have that time together.  I couldn't tell you the last time we had spent a whole week together, no work, no school - probably never.  Certainly not since the last time we had gone on vacation together when I was a kid.

On March 27th, I had my last exam.  The midwife told me that if I didn't go into labor on Thursday, I should check into the hospital Thursday evening, after a light dinner.  Um...what?  Spend the night in the hospital?  I hadn't really gotten that far in my thinking, and I wasn't happy about it.  But I wasn't effaced at all, and they would apply some goop to my cervix, which would help efface it, and it might even start some contractions. 

I couldn't see any sense in Ted and/or my mom staying at the hospital with me. There was nowhere for them to sleep, and it seemed to me that we were in for a long day on Friday.  The more rested we all were, the better.  So I was admitted, put into a fashionable robe, had the goop applied, a device strapped to my belly so they could monitor the baby's heartbeat, and that was that.  The midwife said they would hook me up to the pitocin at 9am, and that usually it takes a while to get going, so we decided that Ted and my mom should come back at 10 the next morning.  They went home, and I stayed behind.  The goop did start some very minor contractions, like bad menstrual cramps, which came about every 10 minutes.  I dozed throughout the night, waking with each contraction, trying to get comfortable while hooked up to the fetal heart monitor and listening to hospital sounds.

At 7AM, my water broke.  I buzzed the nurse and told her.  "Are you sure you didn't pee in your bed?" she asked. "Huh? Does that happen often?" I asked. "You'd be surprised," she said.

The indignities of motherhood were just becoming apparent to me. It was my water breaking, however, not pee.  At 8AM, they started the IV of pitocin, a whole hour early.  I settled in to wait.  OUCH! the pain, amazing, scary, what-was-I-thinking PAIN started pretty much right away.

A couple of words about pain.  I don't like it. However, I like needles even less than I like pain, and the sight of the needle at childbirth classes had made me rethink the epidural, and try for a natural childbirth.  And part of natural childbirth is pain (any childbirth, actually...I have yet to hear of one that is painless, natural or not.)  My midwife had told me that one way to look at it was that the pain of childbirth was a natural pain, as opposed to breaking a leg or rupturing an appendix, and that usually what determines whether a woman needs an epidural is the duration of the labor.  My family tends to have embarrassingly short labors, so I was hopeful that I could get through without seeing that dreaded needle.

The midwife kept asking me if I wanted to call Ted and tell him that contractions had started in earnest.  But my addled brain was afraid; afraid that in his panicked state, he would get in a car accident on the way over to the hospital, and then he and my mom would be dead while I gave birth, left alone in a strange city to raise my baby.  Too many Hans Christian Anderson stories in my youth, perhaps.

At 10:00, I was standing next to the bed, trying not to murder the resident who kept trying to take my blood pressure.  She couldn't get an accurate reading, because my contractions were too close together, and the cuff tightening around my arm made me homicidal. I think I was in the beginning of 'transitional labor'.  I could hear my mom talking loudly as she walked down the hallway.  Ted said he heard someone yelling, and he thought, "I hope that's not Julie." They opened the door, and yeah, it was me.

Ted said I was making "animal noises", like an animal that was trapped and in pain.  That pretty much sums up how I felt, too.  I looked at my mom's face, and I was sure she needed to be in the waiting area.  I wanted this to be me and Ted, and if she were there, I would want mother's comfort, which wasn't going to help me right then.  So I told her to go.  I think her feelings were hurt; and she had been hoping to watch Maya come into the world.

I think mine was a "back labor," meaning the pain was low down my spine, and laying down on the bed was excruciating.  What helped the most was for Ted to rub my lower back while I rocked back and forth on my feet, and for him to remind me to relax my shoulders, that they shouldn't be up by my ears. Eventually, that scary needle wasn't seeming quite so scary, and the idea of relief was sounding pretty good to me.  So I asked for an epidural.  The anesthesiologist was at lunch, but they told me he was busy with another patient, probably because I would have lost my mind if I knew he was grabbing his  only chance at a sandwich while I was crazy with pain. They said he would be there soon, and that they needed to examine me to make sure I was far enough along before he came anyway.  Up on the table, and oops...time to push.  I had been told that I would be moved from the "labor" room to the "delivery" room, but thankfully the midwife left that decision up to me, because the thought of being pushed down the hallway in nothing but that gown, looking like crap, screaming and scaring the other moms didn't appeal to me at all. So I pushed.  I had been told what a relief that was, how good it felt to finally push.  Nope, it hurt like hell, and I was SO scared.  I remember wondering if there was a way to sneak out of there, grab a taxi, go home, and pretend the whole thing had never happened. My fear came from knowing that they weren't going to let me out of there.  So I pushed. 

After about 15 minutes of pushing, out she came.  Ted said, "Honey, LOOK!"  But I didn't want to - I was afraid to see myself all gross and bloody down there - so I said, "No! It's GROSS!"  He said, "No, it's our baby!"  So I opened my eyes, and I can tell you, I don't know what I THOUGHT was going to come out of me, but nothing prepared me for it being a real, live, BEAUTIFUL baby. Her lips were all stretched out, and I remember thinking, "Uh Oh, here comes a supermodel," but luckily they didn't stay that way, and her resemblance to Mick Jaggar was fleeting.

Ted got to cut the umbilical cord, and we got to hold her.  That amazing rush of endorphins, relief, and joy overcame me.  I was on top of the world.  No one had told me that the pain stops the second the baby is out...I guess I had thought it would wane.  THANK GOD the pain just...stopped. After we had a few minutes with her, they brought my mom in.  Her jaw dropped to the floor, too. They had just told her that I wanted her, not that Maya had been born already.

Overall, I know that I had a very "easy" labor: Four hours from when the serious contractions began to the end.  It sure didn't feel easy, though.  It was the hardest, scariest, most wonderful thing I had ever done.  After that day, whenever something seems difficult or scary, I just think to myself, "I can do this...I've given birth."

"J" is a work-at-home mother in the San Francisco Bay Area.  She works as a tax compliance analyst, and finds more fulfillment in writing her blog, "Thinking About", which can be found here.  Her daughter, Maya, is 10 years old. 

The Birth of "Baby Bug"

To My Dear Baby Girl:

December 29, 2005

Daddy and Mommy went into the hospital at 8:00 am for a scheduled inducement. We decided to go that route since your older sister's labor was only 6 hours long. We were afraid that if my water bag broke in public, I wouldn't make it to the hospital in time.

They started at about 8:45 am and you were born 3 1/2 hours later at 6 pounds, 2.9 ounces and 19 inches long.

I didn't feel any contractions (even though I was getting them) for the first 3 hours. Daddy and I were actually watching television and laughing at the talk shows. The nurses couldn't believe that I couldn't feel any pain.

At about 11:45 they decided to break my water bag since I was about 5 cm dialated. The doctor had just finished her office hours and was on her way to the hospital. Once they broke the water bag, boy did I start to feel the contractions! I immediately asked for the epidural.

At about 12:00 pm, the contractions started getting worse. The doctor stopped by and said she would check on me in about half hour to see how far along I was.

10 minutes later, more contractions and still no epidural guy. I started to feel like I had to push so the nurse had the doctor paged. By the time the doctor got to my room I was fully dialated and starting to crown. She kept saying "Don't push!" because they weren't prepared for me to deliver yet. She had to still put on her booties, gloves and gown. The nurses still had to set up the equipment. The bed wasn't even in the delivery position. Everyone was running around like chickens without heads! They didn't expect me to deliver so quickly. I had my eyes closed the whole time but I could hear the chaos around me. All I could think about was the pain and pushing through it. I felt like I pushed for 5 minutes straight and the next thing I knew, you were born.

Daddy said that when the doctor finally did get in front of me, your head was already coming out. You came out so fast that the nurse had to catch you by your feet like she was holding a fish by it's tail.

Of course, when it was all over, the epidural guy came in. He was surprised to see me already holding you. Everyone was kind of laughing and shaking their heads in disbelief at how fast the delivery went.

I guess you were just ready to be born!

Kailani is a full-time mommy to Girlie Girl (4 years) & Baby Bug (6 months). They live in Hawaii where she works as a flight attendant. She can be found at The Pink Diaries or hosting her own carnival blog The Carnival of Family Life. She loves visitors and making new blogging friends! 

The Birth of Lil C

It was the evening of October 2, 2005, the night before my due date.  I had finally given up hope of going into labor on my own.  After a pregnancy of finger sticks, a strict diet, and oral medication to control gestational diabetes, it was now time to face the fact that I was going to be induced with this pregnancy too.  I had envisioned a birth center birth: no needles, no hospitals, no interference.  Just me, my husband, my midwife and eventually a healthy baby.  The gestational diabetes brought with it all kinds of unwelcome intervention in the form of twice weekly non-stress tests, ultrasounds, and a ton more appointments than just my visits to the midwife, all resulting in a scheduled induction on my due date.  "At least I know when I'm having this baby so I can have plans for my older daughter," I told myself.  I went to bed for the night, knowing full well that I would not get much sleep.

I checked into the hospital at 8 a.m. on Monday, October 3rd with all intentions of having this baby by lunch time.  I had made plans with my Mom to bring my other daughter to the hospital in the afternoon.  After being hooked up to the monitors, it was clear that there was no labor going on by itself.  Instead of pitocin (which I had with my first labor), my midwife opted for miso (misoprostol).  After the nurses inserted a port into my arm (no I.V. though, thankfully), and everything was ready to go, my midwife arrived.  At 9:45 a.m., my midwife inserted the miso which goes "where the sun don't shine," if you know what I mean.  I started contracting once an hour.  I was 1.5 cm dilated, 60% effaced and the baby was at -1 station.  Not bad, I thought.  After four hours of continuous monitoring which only allowed me to get up to go to the bathroom, I was finally able to get up and move around.  (With miso they require several hours of monitoring because labor can progress extremely fast.  They need to make sure that the baby is not under any stress.) 

The reprieve from the bed was a welcome one and my husband and I began to walk the halls.  There were only a handful of women in labor at the time so the halls were empty.  All the other Mom's had drugs and were therefore confined to their rooms.  We did laps for 45 minutes, with me trying to retain my modesty as much as one can while wearing a hospital gown, and with cords from the monitor straps around my belly wrapped around my neck.  After 45 minutes of walking, I was required to be hooked up to the monitors for 15 minutes of fetal monitoring.  My contractions were now coming every 3-5 minutes.  They weren't a big deal though.  They were a tightening that wasn't painful; and I did not have to breathe through them.  I remembered from childbirth classes five years before that you shouldn't start with the breathing until you absolutely have to in order to keep from getting too exhausted.  We went on like that: 45 minutes of walking, 15 minutes of monitoring for several hours, until about 3 or 4 p.m. 

A resident came in to check me at this point.  During my first birth, it felt like even the janitor was getting some action, because they were checking me constantly.  My midwife made sure that unnecessary checks were eliminated.  But, my midwife was at the birth center and needed to know where I was.  By this point, my husband and I had probably walked miles up and down the hospital halls.  The resident said I was 3 cm, 80% effaced, and the baby was at -1 station.  I would by lying if I didn't say that I was EXTREMELY disappointed with this news.  I was hoping for a big jump.  This labor was progressing like my first and it was frustrating.  My midwife was going to start pitocin, but she was happy with the progress I made and content to let me keep walking and laboring on my own.  For that, I was thankful. 

Instead of a dinner time visit from my family so they could greet the new baby, my dad arrived with sandwiches for later in the night.  I was able to eat only things like jello and broth, just in case of problems, so I knew I was going to be hungry.  I didn't want to have the baby in the middle of the night and be stuck without something good.  I was a gestational diabetic and I was ready for a good meal that involved no carb counting. 

A little after 5 p.m., my midwife arrived back at the hospital and checked me.  Apparently I had a generous resident, because my midwife said I was only 2.5 cm. and 75% effaced.  She said it was either break my water or start pitocin.  I chose to have my water broken.  I wanted NOTHING to do with pitocin. 

Instantly, my contractions went from minor annoyances to hurting bad enough that I had no choice but to breathe through them.  My husband and I started walking again.  The contractions were now coming every 2-5 minutes and they hurt and badly.  I had to stop walking and hold on to the hallway railing for each one.  I felt like my stomach was being twisted.  During one particular contraction as I leaned against the railing with both hands, head down, I was having issues with too much saliva and I actually drooled onto the floor.  My husband and I got hysterical.  Try hysterically laughing while trying to breathe through a wicked contraction. . . not easy at all. 

By 7:30 p.m. I could no longer walk through the contractions and opted to sit straight up in bed instead.  I could not get comfortable.  I tried several different positions and all of them were miserable.  I knew if I stayed upright, I'd have this baby faster. I needed the pain to stop so I stayed upright despite the pain.  I wanted to get it over with.  My midwife checked me and I was 5 cm, 80% effaced and the baby was at 0 station.  It was around 9 p.m.  It would be the last time that I was checked.  I knew I still had a long way to go. 

During each contraction, I went to Nags Head in my mind and sat deep breathing on the beach.  In between contractions I dozed off as much as I could.  I was in such a zone.  I did not want any distractions and the midwife made sure I didn't have any.  The room was kept quiet; the lights were kept dim.  My midwife and nurse were wonderful through the next few hours.  They kept checking on me to make sure I was o.k.  They would bring me hot water bottles that I would use for 30 seconds and then throw to the end of the bed because I was too hot.  Two seconds later, I'd be telling them to position it behind my back again.  They did whatever I needed.  They were continually encouraging. 

My midwife would sit quietly on the end of the bed, place her hand on my leg and speak so softly, telling me I was doing great, keep breathing.  I think she was very calming for my husband as well. 

Around 12:30 a.m., my midwife asked me if I had been to the bathroom lately and if I felt like pushing.  I told her that I felt pressure, but not the urge to push.  I told my husband later that at this point, (and I know this sounds silly) I only felt like getting up and running away from the pain.  The contractions barely gave me a break and they were intense.  Even though I said I didn't have to go, my midwife, husband and nurse helped me out of bed and sent me off towards the bathroom.  I toughed out a wicked contraction while holding onto the sink.  When I came out of the bathroom, my midwife suggested I lie down to relieve some of the pressure I was feeling.  I was discouraged when she said this and thought she was telling me to lie down because the baby was still hours away from making her appearance.  I figured I had better listen to her and lie down to conserve energy.  I didn't know then that my midwife had been reading all the signs and knew that the final phase of labor was just around the corner. 

It only took one contraction and it was very clear I had to push.  My midwife, without checking me, without turning on any lights, without making a big ordeal of it, simply told me to go ahead and push.  So, lying on my right side, with my nurse and husband barely holding up my left leg that felt to me like it was about 5000 lbs, I pushed.  My midwife checked and the baby's head was already coming down.  The lights were kept low and the nurses getting the room ready for the baby were quiet.  I, on the other hand, was not. 

I remember reading something somewhere about childbirth and that making noise actually helps with the pushing.  It releases tension and helps the baby come down, or something like that.  It wasn't like I made a conscious decision to be loud; it just happened and at one point I heard one of the nurses tell another one to close the door. 

I pushed when I wanted and as hard as I wanted.  I really concentrated on trying to go slowly, and no one told me to push, or pant or gave me any instructions.  There was no counting or holding my breathe.  It was very relaxed and very much at my own pace.  After a couple pushes, my midwife told me to reach down and feel my baby's head.  Her head felt wet and I was shocked to feel hair on her head.  The first inch of her head was out and I held her there with a steady push, not wanting her to slip back.  Three more pushes and her head was out completely.  I did it on my own and gradually, without an episiotomy like with my first. 

The midwife suctioned her nose and mouth and I was relieved to be rid of the ring of fire.  It did burn, but not as bad as I had thought it would.  I pushed a tiny bit and her shoulders came out.  My baby was born with a fist clenched underneath her chin (she had probably been sucking on her fingers like in all the ultrasound pictures, right up until the big squeeze).  My midwife told me to reach down and grab my baby.  I reached down with one arm and the midwife giggled a bit and told me I'd need two.  I was just so tired.  I reached down with both arms and grabbed her under her arms and pulled her the rest of the way out onto my stomach.  It was 1:05 a.m. on October 4th and my sweet baby girl was born.  She had held out one day past her due date.  No baby of mine would ever choose to be on time.

She was just so amazing, so bright-eyed and just staring right up at me.  It was an absolutely amazing experience to pull her out on my own.  The midwife left her on my belly for a while, and didn't cut the cord right away.  She was just beautiful, with a ton of dark hair (so shocking as my first was a baldy).  Unlike my first, she was covered in vernix.  I knew right away that she was a tiny baby, compared to her sister.  My first words when I saw her were, "Oh My God, she's so tiny." 

Eventually, the nurse took her and weighed her.  They did let me hold her while they put the drops in her eyes.  The entire time, she stared at me.  We had an instant connection, me and this baby that had taken 14 months to conceive.  Me and this baby that had put me through four finger sticks a day, twice weekly non-stress tests, and side effects from the glyburide that I was prescribed.  When they hit the conversion button on the scale, I couldn't believe it.  Despite the fact that a growth scan had said she would be 9-10 lbs., my baby was only 7 lbs. 10 oz., a mere 3 oz. less than the weight I had guessed she would be and had told my midwife as she had broken my water. 

 

My midwife checked out the damage while they swaddled my daughter and tried to clean her up a bit.  I had only three minor tears, none requiring stitches.  My midwife assured me they would heal within a day or two and she was right. 

Despite the gestational diabetes and having my birth plan turned upside down, this birth experience was amazingly relaxed.  I did not have to have an I.V.; I had no drugs beside the initial miso to get labor going, and my daughter came out with a perfectly shaped head.  She was just beautiful. 

Despite being exhausted from a 15 hour labor and 20 minutes of pushing, I could not sleep.  I sat in bed, cradling my baby daughter and just taking in everything about her.  I peeled back her hat to stare at the unbelievable head of hair; I stroked her cheek that felt like warm velvet.  I stared at her and felt so blessed that she was finally here and healthy. 

My labor and delivery nurse moved me to my post-partum room in a wheelchair, but I felt more like a rock star arriving at a concert.  The post-partum nurses were waiting in the room, and my l & d nurse delivered me amid a wave of praise for laboring without any drugs.  It was the first labor and delivery she had been a part of that didn't involve pain-relieving drugs and she was "psyched" to have been a part of it, she said.  She thanked me for the experience of it all; and I had to agree that the experience had been pretty amazing.  After settling in my post-partum room, my husband fell fast asleep but I simply couldn't.  When they took my baby to give her a bath, I ate my entire italian sandwich instead of sleeping.  I waited until around 8 a.m. to start calling everyone and giving them the good news (Of course, my parents and daughter got the call at 1:15 a.m.).  Later in the day, my mom brought my older daughter in to meet her new baby sister.  The meeting went very well. 

My midwife came to check on me and said I could go home right away.  At 5 p.m. on the same day I gave birth, I took my new baby home.  From start to finish, it was one amazing birth day. 

"J", also known as "Black Belt Mama" lives in the northeast and is a stay-at-home/work-at-home mother to her two daughters, "Big I" who is 5 and "Lil C" who is now 9 months old.  She writes on her blog, Black Belt Mama, and also for a syndicated (more tame) version of her original blog for her hometown newspaper's website.  She is also the editor of the Birth Story blog.