Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Finally! Ender's Birth Story

**Warning! Warning! Birth story! Bodily fluids! Female anatomy! Proceed with caution.**

So there I was, 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant. I had SPD, intense ligament pain, and varicosities that made getting around extremely difficult. My insomnia had been acting up, I was the most pregnant I had ever been, and I was not feeling labor-y AT ALL. I was a real peach to be around, let me tell you.

Portrait of a woman who has just about had it.

I was fairly certain that Baby Ender was in the Occiput-Posterior position, which meant that the back of her head was pressing against my tailbone. Said tailbone gives me trouble even when not pregnant, due to it being broken four years ago during labor with my other O.P. baby (CJ). Notsofun.

I had spent most of the last several weeks lying uncomfortably in bed, watching weird vampire tv shows and reminding myself that it is biologically impossible to actually be pregnant forever, while my wonderful mother-in-law wrangled the kids.

That afternoon I decided to take the kids up the block to the library, and it was during that walk home that I felt the first honest-to-goodness contraction. I mean, I had had some uncomfortable Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off over the past week, but this one crossed the line into painful, (but productive!) territory.

I got a lot more of them while I was making dinner, intense enough I had to stop what I was doing to breathe through them, and once the kids were in bed I sat down to time them--but they were disappointingly irregular and eventually I got bored and went to bed.

The contractions came through the night. They were taking me in my back, and they got so intense that I had to get out of bed so I could sway through them...but they were anything from 15 to 30 minutes apart. So annoying! Luckily, even through I hadn't been able to sleep all week, I was able to sleep like a rock between the contractions.

I got up at around 6:45am, clued Nemo into the situation, and ate some breakfast between contractions (which, although still irregular, were getting so intense that I left the kitchen whenever I got one so I wouldn't scare the kids with all the oo-oooooing). After finishing a plate of eggs and fruit I retired to the bedroom to bounce on the exercise ball which helped me get through the contractions without cussing. As the contractions got more and more frequent (though still irregular) and the pain in my back that came with the contractions got worse and worse, I knew that this was the REAL DEAL. Not only was I in labor, but I was in BACK labor. Again. Shit.

Now that I have survived two back labors, I feel I am qualified to offer an analogy. Back contractions feel as if a grenade is lodged in your lower back and it is exploding, in slow motion, for as long as labor lasts. And, since back labor is often caused by O.P. babies, and O.P being a crap position for birthing, they often taken their sweet time being born. So that grenade could be exploding for quite a while. 

By 8am I could barely focus enough to push the start/stop button on my contraction timer app, and Nemo joined me in the bedroom to coach me and, more importantly, to apply counter pressure to my back. At 9:45 my mother-in-law brought the kids up to give me hugs and kisses (so sweet!), then she took them to their favorite indoor playground to keep them occupied while I was busy birthing their sister. I understand they had a marvelous time:)

At around 10:15am we hit that magical "contractions less than 5 minutes apart that last for one minute" mark. Nemo announced we were headed to the hospital, and I didn't argue.

It's pretty hard to get everything packed and get out the door when you have to stop every 3-5 minutes to squat down in order to get through a contractions. We left the house around 10:30am, only to discover half-way through the 25 minute drive to the hospital that I had forgotten my purse, which has important stuff like my ID and insurance cards in it.

You can imagine my chagrin at effectively doubling the travel time of the most uncomfortable car ride of my life.

We pulled up to the hospital valet counter around 11, and when we finally made it up to the triage unit (whose genius idea was it to put triage so far fro the entrance? and how did Nemo and I both manage to forget that wheelchairs exist? I'll never know.) I was whisked off to an exam room immediately after the clerk told the nurses that I was multiparous, a fancy medical term that means "not her first rodeo". When a woman with other children shows up and says she's in labor, medical professionals tend to take her very seriously. At least, that has been my experience.

And, what do you know! I was at 6cm! And the doctor said, get thee to a labor suite. 

At this point I was seriously considering pain relief. I'd had two unmedicated labors, one that very painful and one that wasn't. I was seeing many similarities between the current labor and my (very painful) first labor with CJ. And as much as I love the result of that experience, the labor itself wasn't an experience I was dying to relive. Still, the thought of needles in my spine was squicking me out, so I opted to have the nurse install a hep-lock so I could get a dose of Stadol if and when I felt it was necessary.

By the time I got to the labor suite, the contractions had become so powerful that the muscles in my back were continuing to spasm (painfully) between the contractions. If I couldn't get any relief between contractions I knew I would burn out, so we continued to discuss pain relief options again with the nurses and eventually decided that I would try the jacuzzi for an hour and then see if I had "progressed". The jets worked wonders--during contractions I was still swearing under my breath and wrenching poor Nemo's arm right out of its socket, but BETWEEN them I was feeling pretty darn fabulous.

Unfortunately, after the proscribed hour I hefted myself out of the tub (with a lot of help) and onto the bed to be checked, and I'd only dilated about half a centimeter. Bummed doesn't even begin to describe my feelings at this point.

When I was out of the tub the back pain became unbearable again, so I got back in. We discussed the back pain with Dr. Megan, who had just arrived. She announced herself to be an expert baby-turner, so she gave us the option of breaking my water so she could basically grab the baby by the head and turn her so she was facing the right way. This would hopefully take some of the pressure off my back, but it would also probably make the contractions more intense.

I went back and forth on this for quite some time. On one hand, less back pain. On the other hand, harder contractions! Eventually I got to a point where even the tub was no longer taking the edge off the pain, so I opted to allow the Expert Baby Turner to do her thing. She broke my water at 1:15pm, but the dumb baby absolutely refused to be turned. Each of the three or four times Dr. Megan got her in an appropriate position the baby would instantly turn back--clearly she liked the O.P. position, thankyouverymuch.

So I was still  having back contractions, and now that my waters were broken they were much MUCH more intense, as advertised. I started progressing very quickly at this point and I was cursing my indecisiveness about pain relief. Why the HELL didn't I get the epidural when I first showed up? Having a needle in the spine is much better than DYING because oh my God, I can't do this, I'm DYING.
(Transition much, Eva? Gosh.)

One of the fun effects of back labor is that your back  hurts so much it's  hard to feel any thing else, so pushing is much less effective. It seemed to take, especially since my most recent experience was Noni being born after 2 hours of easy labor and one push.

It was also had to focus on pushing because, even as much pain as I was in, I was still able to feel a little self-conscious that there were no fewer than four people who were apparently trying to win a staring contest with my lady parts. I mean, the doctor, the resident, and two nurses were standing there at the foot of the bed literally STARING while I pushed. I'm UP HERE, people. And I hated the resident's glasses. So irritating.

Then it was the last push--I was almost done--and the doctor said, "Her shoulder's stuck!". She didn't sound panicked, but everyone started moving very quickly. I wasn't worried at the time, but later research revealed that shoulder distochia can be a very real concern.

Up until this point I had been reclining in the bed to push and--you know where you're at that point in labor when it hurts to move even the barest centimeter and someone abruptly drops the bed back down flat? That.

Oh, and then? The doctor MANUALLY EXTRACTED the baby's shoulder from my body while I was in mid-contraction--which is just as nice as it sounds--and at 1:56 pm Ender was born!

 Boy did that feel good.

A few hours later we were all cleaned up and clothed and ready to meet the family. My kids, man. They are super cute.

That evening we got a  surprise--my sister Emily, who blogs at Living in the Green, who was due with a baby girl two weeks after me--was headed to the hospital to be induced for medical reasons. After a long induction Ender's cousin was safely brought into the world the next day. God is good!

 photo signature2_zpsszvmmitg.jpg

Postscript: There's more Humblebee on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Hope to see you there! Especially on Instagram. I love Instagram.


  1. God is so good!! That baby is so beautiful!!! Hope you are feeling well and everyone is adjusting easily.

  2. I have a hard time believing you aren't a peach all the time, even during labor :) wonderful birth story!