Throughout the years I have been privileged to hear many birth stories. Some are from my friends. Some are from acquaintances. Some I have witnessed during my nursing rotations. I've always appreciated women's willingness to share such a powerful and intimate part of their lives with me. I LOVE hearing birth stories. I've always been fascinated by how different each and every birth is...whether it's the first baby or the fourth, every single story is unique.
I feel privileged to be able to share my own birth experience. And I feel blessed to have joined the sacred group of mothers everywhere.'
What better day to post Lelia's birth story than her 2 month birthday.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I immediately jumped to the act of childbirth itself. Forget all the wonderful things that happen between conception and the 40 weeks in between, I was fixated on the birth itself. I knew it was my deep desire to have an un-medicated/ intervention free birth but I was full of fear...afraid that I would not be strong enough.
I tried to build my self confidence during the last few weeks of my pregnancy. Reminding myself that millions of women around the world birth without medication. That it is impossible to die from the pain of childbirth (just from other complications...not from pain alone), that the pain would end once the baby was out, that my body was designed for the process of childbirth, and that I would get to hold my precious baby in my arms at the end of all the hard work.
But still I doubted myself. I'd never experienced anything like childbirth before. And although I had read numerous birth stories and had been privileged to be present at many, I had a tremendous amount of fear. I didn't want to fail myself and my desire for an un-medicated birth.
But there was no way to know other than to prepare as best I could and then to just do it.
July 22nd, I was woken up by a contraction at 3:30 AM. I breathed through it, got up to use the bathroom and went back to sleep, thinking nothing of it.
At 5:30 AM, a huge contraction sent me jumping out of bed. I swayed my hips, I breathed but I had to moan to get through it. It was a long hard contraction. Nothing like I had experienced before. I woke Tre to tell him. He hopped out of bed saying something about needing to prep things. (Unbeknownst to me, Tre picked out the shirt he wanted to wear for the big day, ironed it, dropped the videos off so they wouldn't be late and ran a few other errands while I went back to bed. He told me later that when I woke him up, he knew it was THE day. Good thing he didn't tell me or I might have freaked out!) After another trip to the bathroom I went back to bed thinking only how odd it was to have had such a crazy Braxton-Hicks.
I had another huge contraction, like the one I experienced at 5:30 AM, about one every hour for the next couple hours. Nothing consistent or increasingly close together or more painful. Just one big, long, random contraction. Then nothing. I took a warm bath. Sat on the yoga ball. Went for a walk. Slept. It never once crossed my mind that something was in motion. Maybe this was my body's way of protecting me from over thinking everything.
From 9:30 AM to around 12:30 PM I started having maybe 2-3 of these huge contractions per hour. I was supposed to have breakfast with some friends at 10:30 AM but called to tell them I just wasn't feeling well and that I was having some crazy Braxton-Hicks. As with the past several hours, the contractions never became more regular during this time...just one...then nothing...then another one later...then nothing.
Around 12:45 PM I had a contraction. It wasn't as big as the others but it was down low and quite intense. I had to stop what I was doing and sway my hips to get through it. Then a few minutes later another one came. I was so busy working through each contraction that I wasn't timing them. All I knew is that they were coming one on top of the other and were very intense. Tre tried using some of the hypnobirthing relaxation techniques we had learned but I think I had already entered my 'zone' and although I know he was trying to be helpful, the contractions were too intense for me to focus on anything but getting my body into rhythm with them. I found myself vocalizing, a low moaning sound, with every contraction. Sometimes even uttering "ow, ow, ow, ow" until it passed.
Around 3 PM Tre called my friend Carrie to tell her he thought it was time to get me to the hospital. (Carrie is my labor and delivery nurse friend who used to doula in the days before she became a nurse. She's positive energy, comfort and spunk and I knew she'd be a good support for Tre and I on our big day.) Carrie heard me moaning in the background and agreed to meet us at the hospital after she ran a few errands. (She later told me she really took her time getting to the hospital because she figured I was in early labor and it would still be awhile before I delivered).
Around 3:30 PM Tre told me he thought it was time to be getting to the hospital. I remember thinking, "Why?!? I don't want to get there too early and have them tell me I'm only 4 centimeters and then I'll have to stay there forever. This hasn't been going on THAT long yet. Oh, and I need a shower!"
I did manage to verbalize the "I need a shower" part and while I hopped in the shower (which was heavenly), hubby loaded the car. After several repeated attempts to get me out of the shower, hubby finally turned off the water and physically forced me to get out. He helped dress me in between contractions and we were out the door. I do remember feeling grateful to be going to the hospital because "Maybe then someone will give me drugs and the pain will go away!" I think that's the point at which I realized I was actually in labor. And then I got a little scared because things were pretty intense and I didn't know if I'd be able to handle them if they got more intense.
I remember very little of the car ride to the hospital. I do remember wondering why Tre would take the street with the MOST speed bumps ever. But I was too focused on getting through the contractions to bring it up to him. I remember flashes of the freeway, glimpses of drivers and roadsigns but before I knew it we were making the last climb up the hill to the hospital.
It was around 4:30 PM when we arrived at the hospital. Tre asked if I needed a wheelchair. Uh. NO! I waited until the next contraction passed and walked quite quickly into the Birthcenter. My room was the first one past the nurses station and directly in front of the main entrance. I remember thinking, "Seriously?!? They're sticking a person who's trying to go without pain meds in the VERY first room? That's the lamest thing ever!"
My nurse, Kellie, had me change out of my clothes and into a hospital johnny while she strapped on the belts to monitor me for the required 20 minutes. I briefly caught a glimpse of the strip and saw that baby's heart rate was great and that it accelerated with every contraction...such a good thing! Carrie arrived shortly thereafter which put me at ease because my full support team was there. Nurse Kellie asked if I wanted her to check my dilation or wait for the midwife. I don't think I ever answered her...so I wasn't checked until the midwife arrived.
Because I was GBS positive, I needed antibiotics as a precautionary measure before the baby's birth. They usually like to get at least one round of penicillin in at least 4 hours before delivery but two doses are preferred. Nurse Kellie was looking for a vein while I labored on the birthball with Tre massaging my back. Kellie wasn't able to get an IV line in so she called the IV therapist. Meanwhile my 20 minutes of monitoring had elapsed and the belts were taken off. The IV therapist arrived and got my IV started. The antibiotics arrived and were started around 5:15 PM.
My sense of time and events during the next few hours are quite blurred but have been pieced together with Tre and Carrie's help. I remember telling them at one point, " I can't do this anymore. I just need a break from the pain!" and Carrie telling me, "Leigh, this is your birth. Just tell us what you want to do" and Tre stating, "You're doing great! Stop using the time between contractions to complain about not having a break...just take a break!" In my own way I was asking them to give me drugs...but because I never said the words 'epidural' or 'narcotics', they happily encouraged me to keep going on. And go on I did...with Tre sitting behind me on the birthball and Carrie rubbing my back as I swayed by the bedside.
The midwife arrived around 6:00 PM and checked my cervix. I distinctly remember her saying, "You're definitely an 8!" and Carrie saying, "Oh, my gosh Leigh...you're 8!" and me thinking, "OK, I'm 8 centimeters...I can do this. I can go un-medicated. I'm close to having my baby. Once you make it to 8 you are almost done." A new found sense of energy arrived.
At the midwife's suggestion, I got into the jetted tub. She checked me again around 6:30 PM and said I was still 8 centimeters, but was 100% effaced and that the baby was sitting right at the entrance. She said if my water didn't break soon on it's own, she would encourage me to consider having her break it as that would keep things moving along. I remember her saying, "After your water breaks, things are gonna change up a lot". I remember thinking, "Uh. I don't think I want that to happen."
About 15 minutes later I felt a 'pop' and a gush as my water broke on it's own. Immediately after that came another contraction. Only this one was like no other! There was no way I could keep myself from pushing. My body was making me push. And the sensation was powerful! I even remarked out loud, "Uh, I don't think I liked that very much" After several more pushing contractions in the tub, my midwife checked me again. "You're 9 centimeters and baby is descending. Get outta the tub!"
At 7 PM, I was out of the tub and pushing like a madwoman. I pushed on all fours on the floor beside the bed. I pushed while bracing myself on the squat bar. I pushed while on my side, holding onto the bed rail. I pushed on my back. I moved through all of these positions with no thought or premeditation...my body was on auto pilot and I went with it. I'd heard that pushing was the best part of childbirth because you actually get to DO something versus trying to combat the waves of the contractions. But for me...the pushing seemed endless. So difficult and so endless. I kept saying, "I'm pushing but nothing is happening. Why won't the baby move down?!" and hearing the midwife, Tre and Carrie say, "Leigh, you're doing it. You're pushing your baby out and you're making great progress!" After especially good pushes, my midwife would say, "Oh, that was a good one! Oh, yeah...get it!". It was encouraging to hear their cheers even if I thought they were lying to me about making progress!
Right before Lelia crowned, I switched from squatting on the birthing bar to laying on my back. Then came the 'ring of fire'. I'd heard stories about the ring of fire...and man, they weren't kidding! My midwife was pouring cool water over my lady parts to combat the stinging and I kept saying out loud, "Cool water is good!" (one of a number of hilarious statements I made throughout birthing, as Carrie later informed me)
Then things got kinda dicey. The midwife told me to push really hard as she thought the baby's shoulders were quite large and in danger of getting stuck in my pelvis. I heard her say, "Get ready for shoulder dystocia." (Oh, great!). (But turns out Lelia's shoulders weren't stuck, they were both coming out at the same time rather than one after the other, like they should. Nothing like pushing out a linebacker. I would have pushed for 1/3 of the time and had no tear had she come out correctly.) After the shoulders were born, the midwife let go.
Tre had wanted to catch our baby but I was hesitant thinking I would need his encouragement. But I was in my own space so he helped the midwife deliver the head. When the shoulders seemed to be an issue he backed off, but after her shoulders were out, Tre delivered the rest of the baby.
Lelia Drew emerged at 8:33 PM, born into her father's arms. When he placed her on my chest, before drawing her first breath, she picked her head up and looked into my eyes and I immediately began to sob. Suddenly the world came back into focus. I was aware of all the people in the room and realized I was no longer pregnant. I believe I said something like, "Is that my baby? Oh, my gosh, that's my baby! I did it! Oh, my gosh I did it!" After a few moments, I asked Tre..."Who is Monkey?" to which he replied, "It's Lelia...we have a girl!"
I could not have had a more perfect birth experience. My labor was less than 8 hours total. I was able to have a completely un-medicated birth with the support of my awesome midwife, my dear friend Carrie and my amazing hubby. I felt completely safe at a time of such vulnerability. I marvel at my strong body...all it did to house my little girl for 40 weeks and 3 days and the power it used to usher her into the world. What a Divine machine, my body.
Reflecting back to that day 2 months ago, I have never felt so powerful or more proud of myself. Yeah, it was painful and hard and there were times I wanted to give up but I relish every second of my birth experience. I'm proud of myself for holding true to my value of having an un-medicated birth even when it got rough. For allowing myself to give my body over to my birth and my baby. I am much stronger than I ever knew.
And I would relive every moment of her birth in a heartbeat.
