Ask any mother about her labor, and you will no doubt get a play-by-play detailing every aspect of the experience, about blah, blah, PAIN, blah, blah, PAIN, blah, blah, squirmy blue baby, placenta, gush, blah, blah… and, I have found that I am no exception. Women like to talk about their labors because, in most cases, labor and delivery are kind of a big deal to them. It is tremendously challenging, it is a lot of work, it is kind of scary, and more than a little painful, and in the end you forget everything when they put that beautiful squirming lizard looking creature on your chest and you sob because, oh my god, there has never been anything in this world as beautiful and perfect as THIS BABY.
Having a natural birth was an incredibly empowering experience for me, and I learned that I was stronger than I thought, and that labor was more work than I’d anticipated. Ella had a beautiful entry into the world on August 7, 2008. This is my story.
Sometime around 2 am on August 7, 2008, I woke up out of a deep sleep. Something hurt. In the midst of my grogginess, it took me a few minutes to even recognize what hurt. I was having more of the same pre-labor contractions I had been having for weeks. I thought going to the bathroom would help ease the pain, so I got out of bed. I was a little ticked that the pre-labor contractions were so bad they woke me up. I fretted about how much sleep I would lose and thought about what I needed to get done at the office the next day. I wondered if the six mile run I had done the afternoon before made the contractions more intense, and lamented not having pancakes for dinner.
As I stood up, the unmistakable gush of fluid clued me in. My water had broken and labor had begun. I contemplated when I should wake Chris up. I went to the bathroom. I stared out of the window. I relished in the last moments of pregnancy, and the calm before the storm. After a few minutes of quiet, I woke Chris up. Amazing what the words, “Babe, my water broke” will do to get your spouse out of bed. He was up in an instant.
In an effort to ease the pain and stop the shakes that had taken over my body, I climbed into the shower. He sat with me and we went over everything we had to do. Call the doctor. Call his dad to watch Jay. Call Becca (our friend and doula) to meet us at the hospital. Make sure everything’s packed for the hospital. Dammit, my slippers never came. Remember the camera. And my Sonicare.
Meanwhile, the contractions kept coming. Then I had the brilliant idea to start TIMING my contractions, because isn’t that what they do on TV? That was when I found out that their frequency was not in my head- they really were coming every couple of minutes. About two and a half minutes to be exact. Which is when I wigged out, because oh my god, on TV when they are two minutes apart women have babies in taxi cabs on the side of the road, and HELLO, I had planned on using a birthing ball and playing nice music while I was in labor, not paying for the taxi to idle while we patted down our pockets for something to cut the cord with.
I got dressed and as we contemplated throwing Jay in the car and heading out to the hospital sans Grandpa, Steve arrived ready for duty. We were in the car and gone in minutes. A cop car came into view and Chris reflexively slowed down. “What…are…you…doing?” I managed to get out through a contraction. “There’s a cop right there” he replied. I tried to convince him to gun it because it would be SO COOL to get a police escort to the hospital. Ever the logical one, Chris didn’t want to be slowed down when my contractions were so close together. I will probably always hate him for the lost opportunity of what could have been a very cool story. Bah.
We got to the hospital WITHOUT police escort (thanks, Chris), and went into the emergency room. The attendant on duty was new and as she wheeled me to the Labor and Delivery Triage she begged me not to have the baby while I was in her care for the next two minutes. I promised. She handed me off to L&D triage and sprinted off, visibly relieved.
Becca met us at Triage, shortly followed by my OB, Dr. Karla Dickmeyer. A quick internal exam revealed that I was 2-3 cm dilated, which meant… absolutely nothing to me. But I did get to change into a sexy hospital gown and a pair of mesh underwear which made me feel EXACTLY like a Victoria’s Secret model. They were hot, baby.
I waddled to the birthing suite and Chris and Becca went to work. They dimmed the lights, put on a CD, got the washcloths warming in a crock pot for gentle massage, scented the room with lavender essential oils, and brought me herbal tea. I’d done my homework on labor and knew precisely how to do this thing called labor. Step aside, people. I had read me some books and I was going to birth me a baby now. I stretched out over the birthing ball to get through another contraction... and promptly fainted.
The next thing I remember is laying on my side and looking around at about fifteen people who had rushed in. My doctor, a few nurses, residents, and medical students all crowded around me. The lights were bright and people were asking me questions, while a nurse came along and gave me smelling salts, bringing all of the pain right back to the forefront. They hooked me up to an IV and gave me oxygen.
I remember a conversation I had with my mother in law years ago. I told her that I didn’t know if I could do labor without drugs, because I thought I would faint from the pain. She said that she didn’t think I would, that nature has a way of keeping you conscious for these types of events. Ha. Proved HER wrong. My body totally tried to check out for this one.
I labored in bed for a while, and the pain was almost unbearable. It was counter-intuitive, but getting out of bed diminished the pain significantly. I labored in several positions, mostly favoring the tub and squatting, though sitting on the toilet was also helpful.
Some women, apparently, do not get hungry in labor. Personally, I could have eaten a wildebeest. I was STARVING. Becca brought me a bagel, only to have it promptly confiscated by the nurses who refused me any solid foods, because I MIGHT need an emergency c-section and I MIGHT need general anesthesia for that, and I MIGHT puke and then choke on it, even though, no, they don’t really do general anesthesia anymore, and they never, ever tell accident victims to plan ahead for their emergencies and not eat anything three to four hours before they get jack knifed by a school bus.
Anyway, I was bitter. You may be able to tell. Becca fed me red jello and Chris rubbed my back, and I started rattling off all of the food I would eat once this baby was out.
As labor progressed I became completely inwardly focused. My eyes remained closed for much of labor, because I found it easier to concentrate that way. I completely blocked out other people except Chris and Becca, and a few times I could distantly hear a nurse or doctor talking to me, and I would ask Chris or Becca what they were saying. In no other situation would I ignore someone talking to me, but in labor I simply couldn’t hear or understand anyone else. They seemed like they were a million miles away and speaking a foreign language, whereas Becca and Chris were right there and used short, simple words.
As the contractions intensified, I felt myself drill down to focus even more intensely someplace deep inside. My eyes were closed, but I also needed the lights dim. I wanted to hear no music and couldn’t tolerate any talking while I experienced a contraction. I didn’t want to be conscious of anyplace outside of where I was at that moment.
At some point I had the urge to push. Before experiencing this, the concept seemed so strange. Either push or don’t push. If the doctor says don’t push, then don’t push. Is it really that hard? In labor I found that pushing is not something you decide to do. When you are truly ready, pushing is something your body does for you. Once I felt the urge, I told Becca who relayed the message to the nurse. They called my doctor, but she was on another floor with another patient. In the meantime, I was told, I should “breathe out” through the contractions, to help alleviate the urge to push. I have never hated someone as intensely in my life as much as I hated my doctor at that moment. This baby was coming out dammit, no matter what fucking floor she was on.
Karla arrived and did another internal exam and found me fully dilated. I had the o.k. to push. Because it was my first labor and she expected this to go a little while, she brought in one of her partners to work with me through this stage of labor while she went to a mandatory training session elsewhere in the hospital. Dr. Weidel took over my labor and I began pushing at each contraction. I lack the words to fully describe how pushing felt. It was… a bit wonderful if still painful. The contractions were not as painful, and each push made me feel like all of the pain and effort was finally paying off.
Becca and Chris started narrating Ella’s birth to me. We can see her head bulging! We can see her hair! She has stopped regressing between contractions! Oh my god! We can see her head! She out! She’s out! Oh, you did it! You did it!
It took eight minutes.
Suddenly, I had the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect lizard I have ever seen in my life put on my chest and she was mine, and I loved her and she wriggled and squirmed and it was all so…perfect.
I cried and whispered, “welcome, welcome, welcome” over and over again. “Welcome to our world, Ella Ray, welcome… we love you.” Her eyes were open and she stared at me and I thought that there could never be a moment ever, ever again as wonderful as this.
We counted her fingers, her toes. She was seven pounds, two ounces and looked nothing like Jay when he was born. After a while the nurse cleaned her up and gave her back, all wrapped up and wearing a tiny knit cap. She began nursing right away.
I eventually did get my pancakes. It was a double order, with eggs, and yogurt, and juice. I had lunch an hour later, and ate it all. Next time I will hit IHOP before I make my way to the hospital.
I was so incredibly relieved labor was over and so enthralled with Ella. Her perfect tiny fingers. Her long fingernails. Her squished ears, and tiny eyelashes. I felt at peace, and I drifted off holding my incredibly perfect, wonderful, amazing daughter against my chest.
Having a natural birth was an incredibly empowering experience for me, and I learned that I was stronger than I thought, and that labor was more work than I’d anticipated. Ella had a beautiful entry into the world on August 7, 2008. This is my story.
Sometime around 2 am on August 7, 2008, I woke up out of a deep sleep. Something hurt. In the midst of my grogginess, it took me a few minutes to even recognize what hurt. I was having more of the same pre-labor contractions I had been having for weeks. I thought going to the bathroom would help ease the pain, so I got out of bed. I was a little ticked that the pre-labor contractions were so bad they woke me up. I fretted about how much sleep I would lose and thought about what I needed to get done at the office the next day. I wondered if the six mile run I had done the afternoon before made the contractions more intense, and lamented not having pancakes for dinner.
As I stood up, the unmistakable gush of fluid clued me in. My water had broken and labor had begun. I contemplated when I should wake Chris up. I went to the bathroom. I stared out of the window. I relished in the last moments of pregnancy, and the calm before the storm. After a few minutes of quiet, I woke Chris up. Amazing what the words, “Babe, my water broke” will do to get your spouse out of bed. He was up in an instant.
In an effort to ease the pain and stop the shakes that had taken over my body, I climbed into the shower. He sat with me and we went over everything we had to do. Call the doctor. Call his dad to watch Jay. Call Becca (our friend and doula) to meet us at the hospital. Make sure everything’s packed for the hospital. Dammit, my slippers never came. Remember the camera. And my Sonicare.
Meanwhile, the contractions kept coming. Then I had the brilliant idea to start TIMING my contractions, because isn’t that what they do on TV? That was when I found out that their frequency was not in my head- they really were coming every couple of minutes. About two and a half minutes to be exact. Which is when I wigged out, because oh my god, on TV when they are two minutes apart women have babies in taxi cabs on the side of the road, and HELLO, I had planned on using a birthing ball and playing nice music while I was in labor, not paying for the taxi to idle while we patted down our pockets for something to cut the cord with.
I got dressed and as we contemplated throwing Jay in the car and heading out to the hospital sans Grandpa, Steve arrived ready for duty. We were in the car and gone in minutes. A cop car came into view and Chris reflexively slowed down. “What…are…you…doing?” I managed to get out through a contraction. “There’s a cop right there” he replied. I tried to convince him to gun it because it would be SO COOL to get a police escort to the hospital. Ever the logical one, Chris didn’t want to be slowed down when my contractions were so close together. I will probably always hate him for the lost opportunity of what could have been a very cool story. Bah.
We got to the hospital WITHOUT police escort (thanks, Chris), and went into the emergency room. The attendant on duty was new and as she wheeled me to the Labor and Delivery Triage she begged me not to have the baby while I was in her care for the next two minutes. I promised. She handed me off to L&D triage and sprinted off, visibly relieved.
Becca met us at Triage, shortly followed by my OB, Dr. Karla Dickmeyer. A quick internal exam revealed that I was 2-3 cm dilated, which meant… absolutely nothing to me. But I did get to change into a sexy hospital gown and a pair of mesh underwear which made me feel EXACTLY like a Victoria’s Secret model. They were hot, baby.
I waddled to the birthing suite and Chris and Becca went to work. They dimmed the lights, put on a CD, got the washcloths warming in a crock pot for gentle massage, scented the room with lavender essential oils, and brought me herbal tea. I’d done my homework on labor and knew precisely how to do this thing called labor. Step aside, people. I had read me some books and I was going to birth me a baby now. I stretched out over the birthing ball to get through another contraction... and promptly fainted.
The next thing I remember is laying on my side and looking around at about fifteen people who had rushed in. My doctor, a few nurses, residents, and medical students all crowded around me. The lights were bright and people were asking me questions, while a nurse came along and gave me smelling salts, bringing all of the pain right back to the forefront. They hooked me up to an IV and gave me oxygen.
I remember a conversation I had with my mother in law years ago. I told her that I didn’t know if I could do labor without drugs, because I thought I would faint from the pain. She said that she didn’t think I would, that nature has a way of keeping you conscious for these types of events. Ha. Proved HER wrong. My body totally tried to check out for this one.
I labored in bed for a while, and the pain was almost unbearable. It was counter-intuitive, but getting out of bed diminished the pain significantly. I labored in several positions, mostly favoring the tub and squatting, though sitting on the toilet was also helpful.
Some women, apparently, do not get hungry in labor. Personally, I could have eaten a wildebeest. I was STARVING. Becca brought me a bagel, only to have it promptly confiscated by the nurses who refused me any solid foods, because I MIGHT need an emergency c-section and I MIGHT need general anesthesia for that, and I MIGHT puke and then choke on it, even though, no, they don’t really do general anesthesia anymore, and they never, ever tell accident victims to plan ahead for their emergencies and not eat anything three to four hours before they get jack knifed by a school bus.
Anyway, I was bitter. You may be able to tell. Becca fed me red jello and Chris rubbed my back, and I started rattling off all of the food I would eat once this baby was out.
As labor progressed I became completely inwardly focused. My eyes remained closed for much of labor, because I found it easier to concentrate that way. I completely blocked out other people except Chris and Becca, and a few times I could distantly hear a nurse or doctor talking to me, and I would ask Chris or Becca what they were saying. In no other situation would I ignore someone talking to me, but in labor I simply couldn’t hear or understand anyone else. They seemed like they were a million miles away and speaking a foreign language, whereas Becca and Chris were right there and used short, simple words.
As the contractions intensified, I felt myself drill down to focus even more intensely someplace deep inside. My eyes were closed, but I also needed the lights dim. I wanted to hear no music and couldn’t tolerate any talking while I experienced a contraction. I didn’t want to be conscious of anyplace outside of where I was at that moment.
At some point I had the urge to push. Before experiencing this, the concept seemed so strange. Either push or don’t push. If the doctor says don’t push, then don’t push. Is it really that hard? In labor I found that pushing is not something you decide to do. When you are truly ready, pushing is something your body does for you. Once I felt the urge, I told Becca who relayed the message to the nurse. They called my doctor, but she was on another floor with another patient. In the meantime, I was told, I should “breathe out” through the contractions, to help alleviate the urge to push. I have never hated someone as intensely in my life as much as I hated my doctor at that moment. This baby was coming out dammit, no matter what fucking floor she was on.
Karla arrived and did another internal exam and found me fully dilated. I had the o.k. to push. Because it was my first labor and she expected this to go a little while, she brought in one of her partners to work with me through this stage of labor while she went to a mandatory training session elsewhere in the hospital. Dr. Weidel took over my labor and I began pushing at each contraction. I lack the words to fully describe how pushing felt. It was… a bit wonderful if still painful. The contractions were not as painful, and each push made me feel like all of the pain and effort was finally paying off.
Becca and Chris started narrating Ella’s birth to me. We can see her head bulging! We can see her hair! She has stopped regressing between contractions! Oh my god! We can see her head! She out! She’s out! Oh, you did it! You did it!
It took eight minutes.
Suddenly, I had the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect lizard I have ever seen in my life put on my chest and she was mine, and I loved her and she wriggled and squirmed and it was all so…perfect.
I cried and whispered, “welcome, welcome, welcome” over and over again. “Welcome to our world, Ella Ray, welcome… we love you.” Her eyes were open and she stared at me and I thought that there could never be a moment ever, ever again as wonderful as this.
We counted her fingers, her toes. She was seven pounds, two ounces and looked nothing like Jay when he was born. After a while the nurse cleaned her up and gave her back, all wrapped up and wearing a tiny knit cap. She began nursing right away.
I eventually did get my pancakes. It was a double order, with eggs, and yogurt, and juice. I had lunch an hour later, and ate it all. Next time I will hit IHOP before I make my way to the hospital.
I was so incredibly relieved labor was over and so enthralled with Ella. Her perfect tiny fingers. Her long fingernails. Her squished ears, and tiny eyelashes. I felt at peace, and I drifted off holding my incredibly perfect, wonderful, amazing daughter against my chest.
I haven’t woken up from my dream yet.
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