Natalie's Birth Story

September 6, 2007: Natalie's due date. The day came and went without any fanfare. So much for the theory that second babies come sooner than first babies (Sammy was born on his due date). Apparently my uterus didn't get the memo.

September 7, 2007: Contractions start, getting closer together and stronger as the day goes on. I'm determined to stay home as long as possible, and decide not to leave for the hospital until the pain is nearly unbearable.

September 8, 2007: More contractions, more breathing exercises. Didn't sleep well the night before, so am extremely cranky.

September 9, 2007: Sunday night, finally go to the hospital to be checked. Since this is a VBAC attempt only 20 months after a C-section, decide it would be prudent to make sure scar is holding up. Pronounced "in early labor" with scar holding up well, and nurse says she expects to see me back later that evening but is sending me home to be more comfortable in the meantime. Gives me something to help me sleep (similar to Benadryl, if I remember correctly?) and about an hour after I get home, contractions stop abruptly.

September 10, 2007: No contractions all day long. Feeling disgusted, frustrated, and very cranky.

September 11, 2007: Contractions start up again. Actually relieved the day comes to an end with no baby, since I prefer baby have a birthday without so much negative association.

September 12, 2007: OK, now this is getting ridiculous. Contractions frequent, and bearable only with visualization and breathing exercises. This means no sleep for me. I spend the second night in a row in the bathtub, since it's the only way I am remotely comfortable.

September 13, 2007: I've had it. I tell Ron, "I am having a baby today and I don't care how it comes out. We are going to the hospital." We leave right at the start of rush-hour traffic and need to drive all the way across town. The hour-long car ride is the longest ride of my life.

Here's where my birth story really starts. We get to the hospital at about 9:00 a.m., and I am pronounced to be 4 cm. I have mixed thoughts about this. On the plus side, I am finally in active labor. On the minus side, 6 days of labor (5 if you count the one-day break I got on Monday), and I'm only at 4 cm? Kill me now.

I was checked in and sent to the labor and delivery room. I had been determined to have an unmedicated birth, but I was exhausted and had no more reserves left to deal with the pain, so when they asked about an epidural I said "yes, please". I still think that was the right decision for me, considering the marathon that was still ahead at that point.

Labor progressed slowly but steadily. At about 2:00 p.m., the nurse talked about adding some pitocin (NOT in my birth plan - it raises the risk of uterine rupture, although only slightly, but it wasn't a risk I wanted to take) but I didn't have to argue the point since they were too busy and never got around to trying it.

In my labor with Sammy, I stalled out at 6 cm, so when I finally got past that point, I really started getting excited that this was going to happen. At 6:00 p.m., I was pronounced complete. My epidural was wearing off and I could really feel the pain in my hips again (interestingly, throughout the whole labor, the worst of my pain was in my hips, which felt as though they were being spread with the jaws of life).

Right before my nurse went home at the end of her shift, she said, "You look familiar. Where are you from?" and that's when we figured out that we graduated from high school together (both of us had different last names then, which is why we didn't make the connection earlier). Since that high school is in a small town three hours north of here, that was an amazing coincidence.

At about 6:45, the doctor finally came in and had me start pushing. Two hours later, at 8:53 p.m., Natalie Rose finally made her appearance - but only after getting stuck on the way out. Thankfully the doctor was skilled enough to get her past the pubic bone without breaking her collarbone, although they watched her closely for the first few minutes to make sure she was moving both of her arms. She was, so all was well.

I think the doctor put her on my chest as soon as she came out, but honestly I don't have very many memories of those first few minutes after she was born. I was so exhausted, and tired from not sleeping formost of the past week, that I think my brain shut down for a little while. The first memory I really have is when she was over on the warming table, and the doctor said, "That's a big baby". I remember thinking, "What? She looks tiny," but the doctor turned out to be right. She weighed in at 9 lbs. 1 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long.

T minus 1 day

Sam turns 2 tomorrow. I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone! I don’t think I’ve ever written out his birth story, so here it is.

My last day at work was Friday, January 6th. My coworkers took me out to lunch, and afterwards M, an OB nurse, said that she noticed I was having regular contractions. I hadn’t realized it until that point, but she was right (obviously, they were not painful – just tightenings). I went home and slept somewhat fitfully that night, as the contractions were annoying and made it hard to sleep.

The next morning (January 7th) I started timing them, and noticed they were very regular, coming about every 7-8 minutes. Since they were still not painful, we decided to go to the mall and walk around, in hopes of getting things moving. We walked, and walked, and walked some more but they never got painful. Before going to bed that night, they were about 5 minutes apart. Another fitful night of sleep followed.

Sunday, January 8th, I woke up and thought my water was leaking, so we decided to go in to the hospital. At that point, contractions were about every 3-4 minutes but still not painful in the least. The nurse, after doing the test and determining that my water had not broken, checked for dilation and got a shocked look on her face. She called the doctor in, and he checked me as well. They agreed that I was 5 cm dilated but couldn’t believe that I wasn’t in any pain. At that point, they admitted me (it was about 7 a.m.)

My plan was to have a natural childbirth, with as little intervention as possible (hardy har har – fate was laughing at me, in the corner). So I walked the halls, took hot showers, rocked, and did everything else the nurses told me to do in hopes of moving things along. At 2 p.m., 7 hours after being admitted, the nurse decided to check me again. I had not progressed at all. At this point, they gave me a choice: I could either have them artificially rupture my membranes, or I could go home. I know now, I should have chosen to go home, but I had gotten myself so pumped up to have a baby that day, that I couldn’t bear to leave! I agreed to let them rupture my membranes, knowing at that point that I was committed to deliver within 24 hours, one way or another.

Two hours later, they checked me again. There was still no further dilation, although the baby had moved down further. At this point, they wanted to start the pitocin, and I knew I didn’t have much choice so I agreed. It really wasn’t as painful as I was expecting, from other peoples’ horror stories. They kept upping the dosage until it was at the maximum, and at that point it was definitely painful but I could still get through the contractions by doing my visualization techniques (we’d prepared for childbirth with Hypnobirthing classes). By 10:00 p.m., I was only dilated to 6 cm and I was exhausted after having two nights of very restless sleep, so I finally asked for an epidural. Looking back, that was probably the smartest choice I made all day, because it allowed me to get a few hours of sleep.

Just before 1:30 a.m., the doctor came in the room and said the baby was starting to have some big decelerations, and they wanted to get him out right away. Since I hadn’t dilated any further, and the doctor sounded like he meant business, I knew that was the only choice left at that point. Samuel Roger was born by cesarean section at 1:30 a.m., Monday, January 9, 2006.

I’ll never forget his first cry. He sounded indignant and not too happy to be out of his warm, watery home. My first glimpse of him was from across the room, as they brought him directly over to the warmer to weigh, measure, and swaddle him. The first time I saw my baby, my nose was being assaulted with the smell of my own burning flesh, as the doctor cauterized my incision. By the time Ron finally brought him over to me so I could see him, all that was visible was his face poking out from his nest of blankets. I couldn’t have held him anyway, since my arms were strapped down to the table, so all I could do was look into his eyes and tell him how happy I was to meet him.

An hour later, in the recovery room, I finally got to hold him and nurse him for the first time. I finally got to unwrap the blankets and count his fingers and toes. Although I was thrilled to finally meet my baby, I couldn’t help but be sad about the way it all came about. To add insult to injury, the nurses kept telling me that I’d probably have to have all future babies by cesarean section. I know now that’s because this small suburban hospital doesn’t do VBACs – they don’t have the necessary in-house obstetrician and anesthesiologist.

So yeah, the birth experience left a lot to be desired, but the end result of my wonderful little boy made it all worth it. And little did I know then, but I would go on to have a VBAC after all.