Looking back, I have nothing but positive memories of the birth of our first child - - a sweet baby girl. I am excited to share the story with you, and can't wait to read this again years down the road when I will be thankful that I took the time to write it out.
A few details leading up to d-day ("d" for delivery!): I had been experiencing contractions for many weeks, but they were mostly painless. I did not have any pelvic exams leading up to delivery, so I had no idea if I was beginning to dilate, efface, etc. One month from my due date, I felt a noticeable difference in how I was carrying the baby - let's just say I felt a lot of pressure and it was a tad uncomfortable. When I was born, I made my poor mother wait three weeks past my due date and weighed 8 pounds.
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When we got home, all I wanted to do was relax. At some point I called my mom because I was beginning to think "this could be it!" And I needed prayer either way. Three or four hours went by and the contractions were now 6-7 minutes apart. I tried not to get excited, but I called my doula, Jennifer. She warned me that it could still be Braxton Hicks, and suggested drinking plenty of water to see if it was possibly just dehydration. She also advised me to take a shower and/or lay down, either of which could help me relax, and if it wasn't the real thing the contractions would probably let up.
After a shower and laying around, things didn't let up. Michael and I canceled our dinner plans and waited... Fast forward to midnight, and the contractions were more painful (if I was walking around, I'd have to stop and concentrate), but were no more than 4-6 minutes apart. We were hoping for 3-5. We debated going to the hospital vs. going to bed to try to get some rest. I was very fearful of being sent home from the hospital as a "false alarm." I also wanted to do most of my laboring at home...so I sat on my exercise ball and paced around the living room to try to progress things while Michael timed everything on my phone. Just before 1AM we decided to go to bed instead of the hospital. Michael got a good night's rest. I, on the other hand, did not. Things slowed down to every 10-15 minutes, but by sunrise they were markably more painful, and made my legs tremble in bed. I felt like I wanted to crawl out of the pain.
Jennifer called around 7 AM and had to talk to Michael. The three of us decided it was time to get to the hospital. It was Sunday morning and there weren't many cars on the road, thankfully, because we had to drive to downtown OKC (had it have been a weekday it would have been during rush-hour traffic. Praise the Lord it was Sunday!). I kept thinking about how I really hoped I didn't get sent home, because the car ride was very uncomfortable.
We made it to the hospital, and after walking very slowly, and making several stops along the way, we made it to the check-in counter; it was 8 AM. I was "checked" to see if I would be admitted (fingers crossed - -I was hoping for 4 or 5 cm dilated). The nurse had a hard time finding my cervix (she told me later it was because she didn't think I was in labor, and was fully ready to send me home. She was searching too high). Meanwhile, I was trying to stay still on the table...ouch! She finally located things, and with a calm but surprised expression said, "You're 8 centimeters dilated." I had to ask her to repeat herself. I was sooo surprised. And excited. I was doing it. No problem. 8 cm. 100% effaced. I was close to the end, and I had been afraid I wasn't even in active labor. The nurses rushed into action.
They rolled me down the hall to a delivery room, and my labor and delivery nurse was laughing about how "pretty and put together" I looked with my pearl earrings and manicured fingernails. Once in my delivery room, Jennifer arrived along with my doctor (Dr. Franklin) a little bit later. Everyone commented how lively I looked. One nurse said she would have guessed that I had been given an epidural. I could not believe how manageable it was, but appreciated all the compliments and encouragement nonetheless .
Jennifer and the nurse, Kristy, helped get the bathtub ready next. I wanted to sit in the tub to work on staying relaxed. And that turned out to be my favorite part of the labor stage. I sat in the warm water, leaned my head and shoulder on Michael who sat on the edge of the tub, and chit-chatted with him and Jennifer between contractions. When a contraction hit, I just stopped talking and focused on deep breathing while trying not to tense up. Once it was over, we just picked right back up in our conversation. Amazing, huh? Trust me, I am so surprised how calm the whole thing was. My contractions never got any closer than 4-6 minutes, so I was really able to relax and gain strength between each one (I would need it for what was to come). After some time, I decided to get out because I didn't want to get stuck and have to start pushing while in the tub.
Once I was back on the bed I really hit transition (I think it probably initially began at home that morning when I was in bed, but died off with the change in scenery when we headed to the hospital). We no longer talked in between contractions. I stayed on my knees with my upper body draped over the top of the bed, which was upright. My doula coached me through it, and kept my hips rocking from side-to-side which was painful, but she said it would help bring the baby down. I was checked at a 9, and with a little more work I felt the slight urge to push. And then Jennifer welcomed me back, because after transition was over I was talking and more lively again - - I was given a short "break" before the real work began. The human body is truly amazing. What an awesome Creator we have.
At 11 AM I was "complete" with just a small lip of my cervix left, and the baby was at a +1 station. I began pushing with my contractions. I stayed on my hands and knees through a few pushes, but felt awkward and wanted to turn around. I laid on my back and then tried side-lying, but it bothered my hip so I flipped back to my back, slightly upright. I had quite a bit of pressure in my lower back that was uncomfortable during the beginning of every push.
I pushed and pushed and pushed some more. Thankfully I was still getting breaks between contractions. Michael stayed at my right shoulder. Jennifer was at my right hand side, and my nurse was on my left. Dr. Franklin, our back-up doctor, Dr. Nall, (who we met with while my doc had been on vacation) and a med school student were also in the room. I had several cheer-leaders; the Lord knew I would need them! And they never left my side through the whole process.
After some time, Dr. Franklin checked and realized I needed some help getting the baby past the lip of the cervix. She gave me some help (with her hand...ouch) and after another push, the baby cleared it. More pushing, and after what felt like forever, I was checked again - - the lip was back. This was the only point at which I felt somewhat defeated. So much work and no progress had been made. More like two steps backwards. I still wasn't near ready to give up, and never once did I want to ask for meds (not that I could have been given any at this point, but I didn't even think about it). With more assistance, the baby cleared the lip again.
My doctor began mentioning something to the nurse, and after a little discussion, she told me she was fairly certain Zoey was facing the wrong direction (aka she was sunny-side-up). After some examining, she confirmed it. Zoey was going to come out facing the world. This news explained why I was working so hard with such little progress.
After that we tried everything, because Dr. Franklin's philosophy is, "there is no 'right way' to have a baby." She allowed me to try anything we wanted to. We tried tug-of-war for a while. First the rope was hooked to a bar that was setup to run across the foot of the bed, and then my doctor pulled against me instead. After some time, the med student stepped in to take over. My doctor warned her to brace herself because I pulled hard. I pulled as hard as I pushed. My upper body was sore for two days.
At this point, hours had passed. HOURS. Most first time moms are warned that the pushing stage could take up to two, or even sometimes three hours. At the four hour mark my doctor told me she needed to bring in another OB to access the situation. I knew what that meant. She wanted a second opinion because everyone feared a cesarean section at that point. After four hours of pushing could my body really have the strength it needed to keep going, keep pushing effectively? On top of that, my last meal was lunch the day before - - over 24 hours ago.
Things got really intense after that, as if it hadn't been already. The other doctor came in and evaluated a few contractions. He seemed to think as long as I felt up to it, I could keep going. The baby, thankfully, didn't show any signs of distress (another miracle!). Of course I felt up to it. I wasn't going to quit unless I was forced to. And even then, I probably would not have backed down easily. At one point I noticed Michael wasn't up by my side. I asked where he was, and he replied, "I'm down here praying." I knew he was probably scared. My doctor piped in and said she was indeed praying as well, and in fact, everyone in the room was. I also knew that Michael's family was in the waiting room praying, and my family back home was doing the same.
Dr. Franklin had warned us that if the baby had to be taken by c-section it would be difficult because of how low in the pelvis the baby was. But it could be done if necessary. I was more determined than I had ever been in my entire life. In between my contractions I remember asking my doctor and doula if it was working. Was I making progress? Was the baby coming down? They assured me I was making a lot progress with every push, and they could see the baby's head. And according to the doctor, she could make braids - - our baby girl had so much hair! With every push the room erupted. Everyone shouted out encouragement to keep me motivated. It was really amazing. We laughed about what people in the next room probably thought.
Dr. Franklin suggested trying to use a small suction device that might help bring the baby down just far enough to push her out. I was very hesitant, but I knew that would be better than a c-section and that she would not have even mentioned it had it not been necessary. So I trusted her judgment and told her to go ahead and try. The device has a safety precaution that causes it to pop off if too much suction is needed. The first attempt was unsuccessful. Another contraction and we tried again. Another failed attempt. Apparently the standard procedure is to only allow three attempts. We had one last try. We waited for the next contraction. Again I pushed with all my might, and again the device failed.
At some point in between contractions, I leaned over and asked Michael for a kiss. Dr. Franklin was dumbfounded and said she had never seen that in the middle of a delivery, and that most moms in my situation would probably be mad at their husbands for getting them pregnant and in this predicament in the first place. I was thankful to have a supportive husband, and I trusted that everything would turn out okay.
I was instructed to try to keep pushing slightly between each contraction to help keep the baby from sliding back up. That was no easy task. After some time, my doctor said we could have this baby with any push now. But I was told that for roughly another hour! Still, I gave 100% with each contraction, and at this point I could barely catch my breath between them. I prayed intensely instead. Harder than ever before.
Dr. Nall then suggested the lotus position, pulling my heels towards me like a butterfly stretch. This felt good, and seemed to help. I kept at it. The other OB came back in to check our progress. Another push. So close, but still no baby. Then another. As hard as I could. I pushed. Everyone around me cheered. A little more. Keep going. Don't fight it. Don't give up. You can do this. Here she comes. So close. And then I felt it. All my work had paid off. Nothing else mattered. Our baby girl had finally arrived.
Precious baby Zoey was born at 5:11 PM on July 10th after countless hours of labor, and six hours of pushing. She weighed 6 pounds, 1.5 ounces and was 19 inches long. All I could say as tears swelled in my eyes was, "Thank you, Jesus! THANK YOU, JESUS!"
Minutes after Zoey was born.
First family photo.
Proud father.
With my wonderful Doctor (Dr. Franklin) & Doula (Jennifer)
All swollen & brand new ;)
Lovin' on our baby girl.
So sweet.
Going home, finally!
Loved reading the post, brought tears to my eyes! Definitely inspiring me to consider an all-natural birth whenever I have kids! :-)
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