My Birth Story pt 2

As I sat writhing in the back seat, moaning and arching my back with every exit we passed; I prayed that we wouldn’t get pulled over for speeding. I was barely coherent when we finally pulled in front of the Birth Center. As they helped me out of the car I steadied myself as another wave of contractions rolled over me. The walk inside was a blur as another one took over my body and I just went with the motion. I was on auto pilot as I put each leg in a cold stirrup. Upon inserting two gloved fingers into my cervix, the nurse midwife declared with a hint of surprise in her voice, that I was 8 cm. I bit my tongue to keep from retorting, “I told you I was in labor!”. I would be meeting my baby very soon (The cervix has to be 10cm dilated and 100% effaced for the baby to be born in a vaginal birth).

I slowly and steadily made my way up the carpeted stairs to my birth room. All of my demands in my birth plan went out the window along with my modesty as I was hastily undressed and offered a gown. The wonderful nurse asked if I wanted to continue my labor in the bath. I bobbed my head in agreement and shuffled the few steps to the bathroom, where a warm bath was awaiting me. As I made my way towards the tub, I had an overwhelming urge to move my bowels again, and told the nurses as much. They assured me that it was the baby’s head pushing against my perineum. I then gingerly stepped into the warm oasis and sunk down into a comfortable position. Dad-to-be held the shower head and kept a steady stream of warm water pouring over my prone back as I rolled attempted to twist and turn to ease the discomfort of the contractions. My water hadn’t broken yet, so the midwife ruptured it with an amnihook. This was in part (as far as I understood) to speed up the birth, and to make sure that there wasn’t any meconium (baby poop) in the amniotic fluid. If there is meconium in the amniotic fluid, that is a huge cause for concern because there is a big chance the baby can inhale/swallow it and become ill. Meconium in amniotic fluid would require an immediate transfer to the hospital. I’m not sure if the labor progressed rapidly because that was the natural pace or if it was due to my membranes/water breaking.

The midwife guided my legs to the indents in the tub and in a firm yet gentle tone, she informed me that I would need to start pushing at the next contraction. I then hooked my arms under my legs and tried (really hard might I add) to bear down and push. They asked if I wanted a mirror to see my baby and I hastily nodded my head in agreement. Placement of said mirror was the comedic relief that I needed at that moment. The mirror was at a precarious angle and I couldn’t make out anything but the tiles on the wall behind my head. When they finally managed to get it at a perfect angle it kept fogging up. At this point my doula made her arrival, and she, dad-to-be, the nurse and the midwife all attempted to encourage me to push. Pushing was the most difficult part for me. I was instructed to act as if I was having a bowel movement but I honestly didn’t have much luck with that technique. Little by little there was progress. The midwife announced that the baby was crowning and asked if I wanted to touch her head. I reached down and between my legs into the warm water with shaky hands and felt the uncomfortably soft head perched in my vagina.

After two pushes more pushes (I may or may not be making that up, details are fuzzy 😉 my little one’s head was out. Yay, all of this bearing down and grunting is working. The midwife announced that I would need to push three more times to get her out. At this point I realize we’re at the homestretch and I’m feeling very encouraged. She asks if I want to catch my baby and I of course nod frantically. This was in my birth plan. I was instructed to reach both of my arms down and when told, to grab my baby under her armpits and to put her on my chest. After the three pushes, I put my hands back in the water and grabbed my baby girl and placed her onto my chest. Oh my FRICKKIINNNNGGGG goodness. I was in shock and wonder and all I could say was “Oh my God. Oh my God.” At the moment the world stood still and it was just me and my love. The spell was broken by her sharp birth cry and it hit me; I am somebody’s mama. Again, oh my FRICKKIINNNNGGGG goodness. Dad cut the umbilical cord, and was handed baby as I was helped out of the tub.

Glad you stuck it out to the end. Come back for what happened next why dontcha.

A shot from my maternity shoot.  *My lo really does have my mean mug

A shot from my maternity shoot.
*My lo really does have my mean mug

The belly at almost 40 weeks

The belly at almost 40 weeks

Yay, she's here!

Yay, she’s here!

If you’re wondering, yes I edited the picture. I’m pretty transparent, but I didn’t want the internets seeing my nipple or me sitting in blood. You’re welcome.

5lbs 16ozs of perfection

5lbs 16ozs of perfection

I was so swollen lol, with love that is no I really was swollen and sore and I‘d do it a million times over for my love.


My Birth Story pt 1

This is part one of my birth story. It’s pretty lengthy, but well worth the read :).

I was “due” December 6, 2013, but I never believed that my lovebug would make an appearance that early. I assumed that she would make her way out the 9th, 10th or 11th . When December 6th came and went, my midwife scheduled me for an ultrasound and a nonstress test for Friday December 13th. This was to make sure that the baby’s heart rate was fine and that everything was going well developmentally, as well as ensuring that there was enough amniotic fluid as the baby continued to grow. My plan all along had been to give birth at the Birth Center but it looked as if baby and I had different plans. Per Birth Center policy, I wouldnt be able to give birth there if I went to 42 weeks and a day. I could either elect to give birth at the hospital or I could be induced. So being the control freak that I can sometimes be am, I allowed my midwife to schedule me to be induced.

On Friday, December 13th I made my way to Cambridge Hospital for the two exams. I was having infrequent contractions all day. Although they weren’t painful and nothing to call home over, I knew my lovebug would be making an appearance either that night or the next morning. I also knew that I didn’t want to have a Friday the 13th baby. The nonstress test consists of having a band attached to the belly and it monitors the baby’s heart rate. The person administering the test could tell whenever I would have a contraction because of the changes in my love’s heart rate. Ideally, they want to see that the heart rate fluctuates, that is a sign of a healthy and thriving fetus. The ultrasound was uneventful as well. That past weekend I decided against being induced because I felt like I would be doing it for all of the wrong reasons. Neither my nor the baby’s health was in danger and yet I was willing to endure an invasive (although pretty moderate intervention) so that I could have the birth experience that I wanted. I kept telling my belly that it better find it’s way out so that we could do a nice mellow birth that didn’t include a hospital visit.

Later that day, as I was ensconced in my apartment, I attempted to take a nap but the excitement was too much. Around 11pm the contractions became pretty strong but they were still far enough apart that there wasn’t a clear pattern. I know this because I attempted to track my contractions on the contraction app that I downloaded. Around 12ish things began to pick up even more. The contractions were getting stronger and I just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep it away, but alas that wasn’t an option. I can’t say the contractions were painful, they were just intense. It felt like really bad cramps that kept coming over and over again. I was managing the discomfort by walking and swaying whenever a contraction came over me. I also did my version of a birth dance by dropping it low and whining my hips when a contraction came. While attempting to track my contractions I felt the urge to move my bowels. Things were starting to get serious. Then the delicious soup that I ate earlier that day made it’s way up my throat. Not once, not twice, but three times. The third time happened when I went to move my bowels for the second time that night. There’s nothing like sitting on a toilet and then having to turn to vomit in the sink. Good times folks. Good times. I realized at this point that I was in transition. It basically means that I was in active labor and things were really picking up. At this point I thought to call the nurse midwife on call to let them know that I was currently in labor. As luck would have it (sarcasm) the midwife didn’t think I was in active labor because I sounded too calm, so she suggested I call back in a few hours or when the contractions were much closer together and I didn’t feel that I could labor at home any longer. Yeah, um I’m not the hysterical type and I knew what to expect, at least in the general sense; so I was pretty calm. My mother and the dad on the other hand weren’t taking things so well. According to them I was pushing it because we should’ve been en route to the Birth Center already, lest I have the baby at home.

I called the Birth Center for the second time around 2am. The contractions were now coming back to back and I knew we needed to hightail it out of Brockton because the baby wanted to make its entrance. Once again the midwife was unconvinced that I was actually in active labor but she relented and said that we could head on in. Keep in mind that I live in Brockton, which is South and we were heading to Cambridge which is North I believe. I waddled to the bathroom one last time before I was to become a mom. Upon wiping, I saw that I was bleeding. Yay!! The highly anticipated bloody show (bloody mucus that was covering the cervix during pregnancy) that I learned about made an appearance. It was on like Donkey Kong!

Stay tuned for part two.