Labor of Love
September 24, 2009
It was 4 a.m. and I woke to a sharp jab in my lady bits. I levitated, sprinted to the restroom, and after ten seconds called out an alarming, “Roooggeerrrrrrrr!!!” It was twenty five days before my due date, almost an entire four weeks of time we thought we still had left, and there was no question whether my water had just broken. There was gushing. Gushing.
* * *
Suddenly our house was a flurry of activity, us calling my doctor, racing to pack last-minute toiletries in the hospital bag, calling my doctor AGAIN (Aannnnsssweeeerrrrrrrrrr, I silently pleaded. He did.), and finally hopping in the car to drive to the hospital. It was surreal, and exciting, and intimidating. We had no idea what to expect, other than being silently aware of how our lives were about to change.
* * *
I remember reading a statistic somewhere that said only 13% of pregnancies end with water breaking before the woman actually goes into labor. I was now a statistic. By 8 a.m. I still hadn’t started experiencing contractions. My water breaking meant that The Area was no longer a sterile environment, and we had only 24 hours to give birth. So we induced labor. The Pitocin drip began, and almost as quickly my contractions began.
* * *
I had two phases of labor: pre-Epidural and post-Epidural. I remember very little pre-Epidural, other than The Pain. I spent two-and-one-half hours curled up on my left side, my face buried in the side of the bed’s handrail, eyes tightly closed, teeth clenched shut, with Roger holding a cold washcloth to my forehead. I tried to focus on his soothing voice, on leveling out my breathing, on anything other than The Pain. Even The Trembling was a welcome distraction, my body shaking so violently I wondered whether I was having a seizure. At one point I opened my eyes to discover a half dozen nurses and doctors surrounding my bed, some rolling my body back and forth, side to side, over and over again, while others fussed over machines. I thought maybe that was a normal part of labor, but found out later that our daughter's heartbeat had dropped from 130 to 50. They were trying to move her off her umbilical cord, which had somehow become compressed under her body.
The Pain felt like my body was being ripped apart, beginning with my pelvic region, radiating into my low back. Each contraction seemed stronger and longer than the previous, seizing my entire body as it shook through me. Minutes ticked by, measured only by whether a contraction was beginning or ending. The breaks in between became shorter, robbing me of any sense of relief. And when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I asked for the nurse to check my dilation. She began checking me just as another contraction rocked through my body, and for the first time I cried out in pain, my body levitating against her prodding fingers. In those two-and-one-half hours, I had gone from one centimeter dilated to eight. Naturally. I thought it was the hardest thing I had ever done.
* * *
It felt like I was lying in a puddle of warm water, except I was on my side and my back was dry. The anesthesiologist had just given me a spinal block and chased it with an epidural. I felt the liquid moving up and down my spine, and within minutes I was free from The Pain. I craned my neck around to look at the computer monitor, saw that I was having a contraction right then, and was amazed that I could barely even feel it, other than a slight cramp in my lower back. Amazed and relieved.
* * *
A few (relatively pain-free) hours later I was dilated to a 10 and ready to push. The nurses swarmed my hospital bed, pulling levers and removing the bottom section of the bed, pushing up handles, transforming it for delivery. Wait – pushing up handles? This wasn’t in the movies. I looked at my nurse. “What am I supposed to do with those?” Those handles, those handles kept me from fracturing bones in Roger’s hand. After instruction from the nurse, we waited for a contraction and then I began pushing. And breathing. And pushing. And breathing. And pushing. And breathing. Rest. Another contraction! Push! And breathe. Push! And breathe. Puuuusssshhhhhh!!!! And breathe. This went on for an hour and 15 minutes, each push becoming more strenuous, more discouraging because WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER? I was 100% effaced. I was dilated to a 10. Why wasn’t this EASIER? And FASTER? Shouldn’t she just come flying out of there? And why did it burn so?
* * *
“Sweetie, I see her hair! She has so much hair all over her head!” I opened my eyes long enough to glance at Roger, his eyes shining. I pushed harder, over and over and over again. My doctor asked if I wanted to touch her head, and I said no. All I wanted was to push, to get her out of me, to be relieved from the pressure she was putting on my body. Two contractions later, he asked again. Again, I said no. Push. Push. Push. Push. After the next contraction, he asked again. I finally agreed, because maybe there was a reason he kept asking me. And her head – it was slimy, like her hair was covered in conditioner. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't the emotions that flooded me. As if The Pain and The Pressure and The Burn weren’t enough, touching my daughter's head while she was still unborn made my pregnancy and my daughter’s impending arrival all the more authentic. If that is even possible.
* * *
“Sweetie, I see her head! Her eyes! Her eyes are the deepest blue!” Roger was giving me a play-by-play, a narrative that I desperately needed, because I had no idea what was happening down there other than knowing that I was pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and still had no baby to show for it. “Her shoulders are coming out! I see them! You’re doing such a great job! Just one more big push!” And with that, she slipped out, wailing. I relaxed against the bed, relieved the marathon was over, as I watched my doctor hold her in the air. She was perfect, with dark, thick hair and rosy skin.
After the nurses finished examining her, they handed our daughter to Roger. And watching him with her was overwhelmingly emotional for me. It was like love at first sight, like I could feel my heart growing three sizes that day. Giving birth to Rayah was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. It was also one of the most exhilarating, proudest moments of my life.
Rayah, a few hours after delivery
Comments
Wow, that sounds amazing and terrifying at the same time.I am so glad all of you are so happy and healthy.
Posted by: Bobbi Janay | September 24, 2009 07:34 PM
Wow, what a beautiful birth story! You had me on the edge of my seat with tears in my eyes, horrified and amazed in the same moment.
And now, for the first time I´m doubting my resolve to not have an epidural.....
Rayah is beautiful. I love her pink bow. Great name, too!
Posted by: Suzanne Douglas-Terrazas | September 24, 2009 07:37 PM
Awesome story, I hadn't heard all of it yet. I remember during our birthing class the teacher said, "And your water won't break. It's very rare and only happens in movies." Well, Jessica H. had her water break for her 2 girls, Kim had her water break and then you. And I don't know that many people. Did they ever guess as to why yours broke so early?
Posted by: Erica | September 24, 2009 07:51 PM
Suzanne: There was so much I didn't write that I could have, so much about how much it hurt, how much my hoo-ha STILL hurts, three weeks later. I have 2nd degree internal lacerations, which required 45 minutes of stitching. There was so much blood. DEAR GOD, giving birth vaginally was HARD. At one point I asked my doctor just to cut me open, just pull her out of there, which of course he couldn't do.
The contractions - there are just no words to describe how much they hurt. That I managed to get through them without dropping an F-bomb is beyond my understanding. To be honest, I couldn't even talk during them. I couldn't even THINK during them, I was so enveloped in my own pain. Roger stayed by my side the whole time, trying to get me to focus on my breathing, but even that was out the window. Breathing techniques are a joke. You just do what you can to SURVIVE, because you think you are going to DIE. The best thing he did was sit by me, talking calmly, holding that cold washcloth to my forehead, re-wetting it between contractions. He told me stories, reminded me of memories we had built together through our marriage. And listening to him re-tell special things we had done helped take my focus off the contractions. It took the edge off, I guess is what I'm saying.
Going to an eight, naturally, was hard. But you know what? Doing it also made me realize that if I had no choice, I could have gone to a 10. It would have hurt, but I could have done it, and I like KNOWING that. So if you choose not to get an epidural, rest assured that it can be done, and you'll be immensely proud of yourself afterward. My goal was only to last as long as I possibly could without it. And when I asked the nurse to check me, I honestly thought that I was only at a four or five - I had no idea I was already at an eight. And thankfully, I had the option of an epidural. Getting it, for me, was the right thing to do. It doesn't mean it's the right thing for *everyone*.
But laboring wasn't the hardest part. That award goes to delivery, because pushing and pushing and pushing (especially after the way contractions work your body over) was tiresome. And painful. It felt like Rayah was just STUCK. Like I had a canteloupe just STUCK in my canal, as gross and OVERSHARE as that sounds. And she was STUCK for an HOUR. RIPPING ME. IN VERY TENDER AREAS. I was so ready to just give up, and the thought of pushing for any longer than I did is frightening to me. I had a very fast labor and delivery - the average laboring is 16 hours, and the average pushing takes 3 hours. I labored for 6 and pushed for 1 hour, 15 minutes. I am THANKFUL. So I suppose what I'm saying is this: if you do labor naturally, do yourself a favor and get some sort of anesthetic for your lady area during delivery. Because contractions will wear you out, and delivery just plain HURTS.
Or it did for me, anyway. Everyone has a different experience. This was just mine.
Erica: I never did ask anyone why they thought my water broke so early. I guess Rayah just decided she was getting too big and needed some extra room. Speaking of getting too big, WOW. OUCH.
Posted by: chirky | September 24, 2009 09:28 PM
Thank for sharing your birth story, it sounds like it went well for you and it is so exciting to have Rayah now!
Posted by: Jenny B | September 24, 2009 09:30 PM
Amazing, Jes. Just a wonderful story. It all worked out so well, and you have exactly what you should have: a beautiful daugther and a ton of wonderful memories about how she came to you. Thanks for sharing. Made my day.
Posted by: MamaP | September 25, 2009 09:43 AM
I've been reading your blog for a while now.
I am truly moved by the emotions you express through your writing.
Great post! Rayah is beautiful :)
Congratulations! I'm sure you're going to be an amazing mother, and she's going to grow up to be an independent woman.
Posted by: Dishi | September 25, 2009 10:15 AM
Tears are streaming down my face. :) I'm so happy for you and Roger!! (Although, you will have to tell me in private just how bad labor was to prepare me!!)
Posted by: Lisa | September 25, 2009 12:07 PM
Aw. You did it. What a great story. And your blog baby counter still has 2 days to go!
Posted by: Suebob | September 25, 2009 02:03 PM
Just wanted to say Congratulations. You don't know me, and I don't know you really, other than what I've read here. I stumbled upon your blog one day while Googling for something about hair removal, I think. One of your posts was a search result. Anyway, obviously I was interested by what you wrote and kept coming back. My husband and I just recently decided that we might like to have a child soon..Thanks to your birth story, I'm definitely going to take all the painkillers I can!
Posted by: Annah | September 25, 2009 05:51 PM
Annah: Your remark about painkillers made me laugh. :) if anything, I would say this: at least be open to your options. So many people have An Idea of what they want/how they want labor and delivery to go. And if it doesn't go that way, they are really disappointed. You can't really control how your body responds to labor/delivery - for some, going natural is no big deal, not really painful. I wasn't one of those people. Obviously. I hoped I'd be able to deliver vaginally, but if I'd had a c-section it really wouldn't have bothered me, as long as the end result was the same (getting to meet our daughter, with no tragic losses). In the end, I think that's all that matters.
Best wishes to you and your husband on pregnancy, parenthood and all that both entail. I hope you'll keep us updated!
Posted by: chirky | September 25, 2009 06:43 PM
У данной публикации неформальный, информативный стиль, благодарность Вам!
Posted by: Актек | September 26, 2009 12:17 AM
Wow, I have tears in my eyes. And I have read/listened to a lot of birth stories. Thanks for sharing with us!
Posted by: nicole | September 26, 2009 11:32 AM
Jes -
I loved reading your story. Each person's is so unique and special. Glad everything was fine and that she is healthy. You had a great attitude about it all - the ultimate thing is that you do whatever is best for the baby. period.
I am "sorta" jealous that I never got to "push" with Elizabeth. I labored a total of 53 hours, and was on pitocin for 10 hours NATURALLY, no pain meds. And no Elizabeth. Then came the c-section. But, it's all worth it. Just so you know though, I'm having a scheduled C-section in February!
Congrats to you and Roger!
Posted by: Amstaff Mom | September 26, 2009 09:49 PM
Jes, congratulations!!!! She is absolutely adorable! So glad that mom and child are doing well (and I so love the name). Stay well and keep us posted after you recover!
Salut,
Marjorie
Posted by: My Inner French Girl | September 28, 2009 12:20 PM
Oh so many congratulations Jes, she's just gorgeous and that little hospital hat with the bow is just the cutest thing!!
Thanks for sharing your labor/birth story with us. I'm so glad to see and hear that she is healthy and I hope that you are recovering nicely...
Posted by: Elaine | September 29, 2009 01:56 PM
Oh my gosh, that picture of Rayah is so cute that I want to frame it and put it on MY fireplace mantle! :)
As for this story, thank you so much for sharing. It's the most complete, honest birthing story I've ever read. The only times my jaw left the floor were the 18 times I said to myself, "Oh. My. Gosh."
I'm about to pass the computer to K to make him read this. Someday when we decide to start a family (or God decides to start it for us), I will definitely want to revisit this post -- and make K revisit it as well.
Posted by: my life is brilliant | September 29, 2009 07:36 PM
Rayah is beautiful, and thank you for sharing your birth story.
Posted by: Erin | October 3, 2009 11:33 AM