My Birth Story

I’m just starting to feel ready to talk about my birth story, almost a year after my son was born. There are so many things I wish I had known, both about the birth itself and about the postpartum period, which is why I try to share things that I think will help other future moms and new moms. While my story is deeply personal, I think some people will be able to relate to my experience and it is my hope is that it helps other moms prepare for and/or process their own birth story.

I started experiencing contractions on a Sunday, but I didn’t know that’s what was happening. I didn’t experience Braxton-Hicks contractions during my pregnancy, so I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling were actual contractions or Braxton-Hicks. I started having some discomfort and pain that felt like a burning sensation, so I thought I might be getting a bladder infection. I called the hospital to talk about my symptoms and help determine if it was labor. Since I wasn’t quite 40 weeks (I was only 37 weeks and 4 days), I was told to keep calling back and checking in if the contractions got closer together, but they were pretty sure it was Braxton-Hicks. I ended up calling back at least twice, sure that I was experiencing contractions.

I was told that since they weren’t close enough together, there wasn’t much to do except wait. My husband and I went on an evening walk in newly fallen snow, which calmed my nerves. The hospital wanted me to let them know when the contractions were following the 5-1-1 pattern (five minutes apart, lasting for one minute, over a period of one hour). I was experiencing the contractions about every 6-7 minutes, but they were lasting one minute and happening every hour. This pattern continued for at least a few hours. I was uncomfortable and scared. My husband turned on one of my favorite shows and it helped, to an extent.

Around 9:30pm, I decided to try to go to bed. I laid down and I was so uncomfortable, I was close to tears. I called the hospital and told them how I was feeling, and they said that I could come in to be checked, but that it wasn’t a guarantee that I was in labor. I was thankful just to have something else to do besides sit and wait. I told my husband and he snapped into action, grabbing our hospital bags and running around the house. I couldn’t help but think that the next time we were home, we would likely have a baby with us. The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. I couldn’t get comfortable and I felt myself panicking. I had the windows down in the truck, even though it was late October and likely below 40 degrees outside.

We got checked in and brought into a room, where they made it clear that I wasn’t necessarily being admitted. I just wanted them to do something for the discomfort and pain, so I hoped that I was in labor. They checked, and I was 3cm dilated! They called my doctor, got me admitted, and moved me to the room where I would labor, deliver, and recover. I was terrified, but also glad that relief was on the way. They gave me Percocet for the pain and said that I would not be able to eat until after I delivered. The nurse wrote on the big white board in the room that the goal for today was to, “Have a baby boy!” I tried to skip past thinking about the labor part and imagine holding him in my arms. I knew that if I could just get through labor, everything else would be fine.

Soon after taking the Percocet, I threw up. I was told that it was a normal reaction to the pain meds. I hoped that would be the worst part of the birth experience, since the epidural was on the way. By the time I got the epidural, the contractions were so painful that I didn’t even notice the needle or feel it being inserted. I waited for relief. It took some time, but the nurses said that I should rest since I would need my energy and the epidural would make it easier for me to do that. I was confused about why the baby wasn’t coming right now, but welcomed the chance to sleep.

My husband and I were awakened sometime in the early morning by the beeping of the monitors and about 5 nurses rushing in. I was half-asleep and confused, as they told me to get on all fours while they readjusted the baby. They said something about the baby’s heart rate dropping, and I felt fear jolt through my body. They said that the pain medication made my blood pressure drop. After what seemed like hours, but was likely only minutes, they told me that the baby was no longer in distress. I knew that I wasn’t getting any more rest after that.

Unfortunately, the rest of the experience went downhill from there. The effect of the epidural started to wear off, which I didn’t understand. I was feeling contractions almost at the same intensity as before the epidural, so I told my nurse. I was in tears from the pain. Finally, they administered another dose of medication and I got a few hours of relief. However, the same thing happened with my blood pressure and the baby's heart rate dropped. The nurses had to come in and rearrange the baby again. My doctor came in. She said that we might have to discuss a C-Section, but she had an idea to avoid that, since I wanted a vaginal birth. She told me that she would give me a medication to raise my blood pressure so that when they gave more pain medication, if my blood pressure dropped again, it would remain stable. It worked. My water hadn’t broken yet, so one of the nurses helped that process along. I went from 5cm dilated back down to 2cm because the water had been pressing against my cervix to make it appear more dilated than it was. I felt defeated and like things were going in the wrong direction. I didn’t think I could do this much longer.

Then, the pain started coming back. I couldn’t believe it. I told my nurse again, waited in agony for the anesthesiologist again, and got more meds again. My doctor decided to induce using Pitocin to speed up the process. It was well into the next day and I felt like I had been in labor forever. The effect of the meds wore off again, and I got one more dose before I was finally able to start pushing. I remember looking at the clock and it was 6pm. The nurse told my husband to get my dinner ordered before the kitchen closed. I hadn’t eaten anything in almost 24 hours, so I was ravenous and glad she didn’t miss that detail.

Even though I didn’t get immediate relief from pushing, I was so glad to be focusing on something other than the pain. I could still feel the contractions and the last dose of the medications was already wearing off. Every time I pushed, it felt like nothing was happening. Thankfully, my husband was there to cheer me on because looking at his excited face was the only thing keeping me going - besides getting closer to meeting our baby.

Finally, I felt movement after one of my pushes and I knew we were getting close. The doctor said that the baby was crowning, and I could feel it, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was in a strange state of being on lots of medications, so every time I closed my eyes, it felt like I had been sleeping for an hour. Sometimes, it felt like I was in a dream and other times, I felt totally clear. The doctor put gel around the baby’s head to help with getting him out on the next push. I felt his shoulders come through, then a literal “woosh,” which I assume was blood.

I had done it. He was out. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like time was standing still. I was aware that the baby was on my chest, but also felt disconnected from everything, still in a dream. I know that my husband cut the umbilical cord, but I don’t remember it. I remember my doctor showing us the placenta after I delivered it. Then, I realized that she wasn’t saying much, so I asked what was going on. She told me in a calm, but worried tone that they were having difficulty stopping the bleeding. I looked at my husband and I wondered, “Am I going to die?” I was still holding the baby on my chest. I took a deep breath, and checked in with myself. I didn't feel like I was going to die. I just knew that I was going to be okay. I looked back at my doctor. She said they were able to stop the bleeding. I could feel a prickling sensation, which was my doctor stitching me up. Normally, I have a low pain tolerance, but after what I just experienced, I felt like I could do anything.

They got the baby cleaned up and we tried breastfeeding a few times. I was beyond tired and just wanted to eat my cold turkey sandwich. Then, another nurse came in and said it was time to take a bath. I was shocked at the amount of blood still running down my legs and was convinced the water would immediately turn bright red, but somehow it didn’t. I was getting annoyed and frustrated because I just wanted to eat and sleep. My husband was holding the baby and I wanted to be in the room with them. The nurse helped me into the tub and the water was freezing. My body began to shake. She said that I could adjust the temperature by adding warmer water. I found her to be less than helpful. I knew that she probably helped people with this every day, but this was all new to me. After I washed off, she showed me what would be my new postpartum routine of using pads, dermoplast, and a peri bottle until I healed from the birth. I realized that I had not even considered that I would need to be taking care of myself and my body would be healing at the same time I was learning how to care for a newborn. I just assumed everything would make sense after he was born and that the hard part (labor) would be over.

Finally, I got to eat my sandwich. It tasted amazing, even though I know at another other time I probably would have considered it gross. I could not seem to get warmed up after the bath, as my body kept shaking. (Later I would learn that it’s common to experience shaking after giving birth.) I got a couple warmed blankets from the nurse and tried to get comfortable in the hospital bed. It seemed surreal that the baby was finally here. I remember thinking that the little plastic crib they put him in didn’t seem safe and I wondered if he would be able to sleep in there. I pictured what we must look like from above, my new little family: my husband on the couch, our new baby in between us, and me in the bed.

I’m grateful for my doctor and the team of nurses who helped me through my labor experience, but I think there are things that would have made it feel more supportive. However, since this has been my only birth, I’m not sure exactly what those things are. I have finally admitted to myself that giving birth was a traumatic experience for me because of the ongoing pain and discomfort, the concerns about my son’s heart rate and my blood pressure, the long labor and setbacks, the inability to stop the bleeding and the fear that I could die, and the lack of compassion and support from a couple of the nurses. I have also had to deal with some disappointment and anger about the way the whole experience went, and I’m still processing that piece.