Index

Home Page
Mission & Philosophy
Birth Stories
My personal birth stories
My Services
My Blog

I woke up at 4:00 the morning I was going to the hospital to have my labor induced. Slightly annoyed at having woken up early, I looked at the clock, wondering why I was awake. Staring at the bright red numbers, I realized as the tightening subsided around my belly that I had been having a contraction. I laid there, trying to drift back to sleep and actually succeeded. After a few minutes, eight to be exact, I woke up to another contraction. I noted the bright red numbers and began to drift again. Once again I was awakened by another contraction eight minutes later. Noticing the pattern, I decided to try all of the false labor tests and got out of bed. I emptied my bladder first like any self-respecting pregnant woman. Then, I headed for a peanut butter sandwich and large amounts of water. I ended my early morning adventure with a shower. A long shower. About an hour or so later, my husband came to check on me because by this time we were running late getting to the hospital. “I’m coming,” I told him, “I just can’t get this shower clean enough.” I had spent all of that time cleaning the shower with me in it! And the contractions were still coming.

So we left for our “induction.” We got to the hospital and I told my nurse, a very sweet young girl no older than I was who had never had children, “I’m in labor!” She looked slightly amused that I was making this announcement and I was supposed to be there for an induction. Nevertheless, she played along and agreed to monitor me to see before they performed any procedures. Contractions I said, and contractions there were. But to my dismay these contractions were not deemed real or effective. Apparently they were not strong enough (tell that to my belly!). After having my cervix checked and found to be at 4 centimeters (technically active labor) I begged to hold off any ‘induction’ and just let labor progress. I was told though that this wasn’t possible and I would still need to proceed as planned. So, it was about 7:00 they started pitocin.

I declined any pain medication, even though the contractions were immediately hard and fast. The doctor came in shortly after the pit being started and broke my bag of waters. I was probably about 5 centimeters when this happened. The three hours after the pitocin being started are truly a blur to me. I spent a lot of time going from the bed to the bathroom because sitting on the toilet was the only position that provided me with any comfort. Nursing shifts had changed and my new nurse was very good. She took my hand and breathed me through contractions when I could not find the strength to cope. No one else in the room had any idea how to help me, and really just looked at me with sheer pity because they knew of nothing else to do.

There was a point, shortly before 9:30 in the morning when my sweet nurse told me she could not let me get out of bed any more because I could not be away from the monitors. Being sure she was the devil incarnate, I went to savor my last trip to the bathroom. I sat there, contemplating my options between contractions and realized I had no idea how much longer this would last. The pitocin was steadily being upped in dosage and only putting me in more pain. I finally called my husband in and told him I wasn’t doing it anymore without drugs. And so my epidural was ordered. It wasn't long before the anesthesiologist arrived and managed to give me the epidural, and by ten I was fast asleep in the bed. I had no idea I was even in the hospital, much less in labor. I slept for about two hours or so until the nurse woke me up to check my progress. Everyone in the room was surprised to hear I was complete and ready to push. So push I did! I pushed for almost two hours, finally feeling my not so little baby (8 lbs. 10 oz) emerge at 1:52 in the afternoon. Her labor had been only a few short hours, but to me it felt like an eternity.

I reached for her as soon as she was in this world crying out for my baby. I watched as my baby was passed over my waiting arms to be handed to a cold, gloved stranger. I cried out in the background, “Oh my baby, my baby!” I think back to her birth and I can remember that moment. My arms were on fire to hold her, my heart about to explode, and all I could do was listen to her cries from the table beside me, cloaked by nurses and people in paper gowns, out of my sight. I’ve only seen what happened behind that veil of paper gowns on her birth video. There were so many procedures and interferences in her first minutes on this earth. I wonder how confused she was. With so many unfamiliar people around, handling her and doing strange things to her tiny body. How scary it must be just being new here anyway. But how lucky the baby who immediately is against her beautiful mama, hearing her heartbeat and soothing voice. My sweet baby only got to feel cold gloves and instruments and hear strangers’ voices. She had a plastic nipple shoved in her mouth instead of my warm breast. She pushed at them with her tiny hands to stop, but nobody listened to her.

My girl is a strong one, though. She came into this world changing it. She sacrificed her birth, those moments in our life, to make such a change. Her entrance changed my life more than any other event ever. Her birth, the very act that marked my brokenness moved me to restore birth, not only for myself, but for other women. My girl has changed my life, and the life of countless other women with her sacrifice.