#it's impossible to stop believe me ive tried very hard but i am powerless i really am like a dog or a wolf whatever he's saying im not

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

and this

THIS ONE

[uncommonsarah]

Olivia, a birth story

On October 14, 2017 at around three in the morning, I woke up and went to the bathroom. That had become a normal time for me to pee while I was pregnant. This time, my shorts were all wet. I didn’t know your water could break without having contractions, so I wasn’t sure if I peed myself or not. I smelled my pants and there was no odor. I cleaned up and went back to the bedroom. Matt had woken up, as he usually did when I got up at night, and asked if I was okay, as he always did when he woke up because I had gotten up. I turned the light on and let him know I had to see if I had wet the bed. No spot. We made a game plan that if I continued to wet we would go to the hospital. I put on a sanitary pad to see if I had a slow pee leak or water breaking. After a couple gushes of liquid leaving my body, we decided to bug out.

This was a very calm experience. I changed my clothes, my bug-out bag was prepped and in the car, and we were ready to go. The drive was calm at four in the morning. It was the third time we had headed to a hospital at that time during this pregnancy: the first time, we thought I had already miscarried and that I had become septic (but we learned there that I was indeed pregnant) and the second time my eyes had swollen up in some strange allergic reaction and we wanted to make sure it wasn’t something awful. We laughed a bit that this early morning trip was on par.

We drove to Garden City Hospital instead of the hospital 10 minutes away (at which we had both been born) because while our OB could go to both, our midwife could not (though, our midwife was not on call for the weekend). As we drove, we saw a “Haunted Funeral Home” and laughed at how creepy it was. The trip seemed short and when we arrived we were able to park and walk to the Emergency enterance without a rush. When asked why we came in today, I replied that “I think my water may have broke? But I don’t know?” They took my info, took me on, and asked if I wanted a wheel chair to head to the Birthing Center. I opted to walk because I could and I figured it would help the process along. After a mild case of getting lost, we found our way and they set us up in an examination room. I got my first piece of plastic hospital jewelry: white bracelet #1. While in the exam room, they asked the typical admin questions while checking my vitals. The nurse was great and we joked about how if I was admitted she’ll have to ask me all the same questions again because whoever set up the computer system never thought to make the answers transfer. The in-house doctor examined me and yes, my water had broken and I was 1cm dilated. They admitted me and the nurse asked me questions again. We laughed.

Since I was admitted, they took me to a Birthing room and called my OB. They hooked me up to an IV for saline, gave me white bracelet #2, and put two sensors on my belly: one for the baby heatbeat and one to watch my contractions. I had no contractions. The doctor wanted to give me pitocin to encourage contractions and I really didn’t want it— I wanted to wait and have everything be natural. The nurse said I was allowed to wait a bit and see how things progressed on their own. I was grateful that she told the doctor that was my wish. The doctor was irritated with me, but I explained I just wanted a little more time to see if I would dilate. They obliged, but my cervix didn’t play along. Still 1cm and my water had broken long ago, so I didn’t want to prolong the labor any longer than I had to, for the baby’s sake.

The pitocin started to help the contractions. They happened, though irregularly. Started off easy and grew to some... awful pain. From the time I was 13 years-old until maybe twenty-seven, I have had horriblly painful menstrual cramps. The labor pain I felt was the same as these contractions. I always assumed this would be the case and I figure if I could handle my periods, I could handle labor pains. For a long time, I did! I walked around and bounced on a Birthing ball to stave off some bad ones while my husband helped keep me grounded. I was surprised by how similar the pains were for me. The only real difference was that for my periods, the worse they got the sooner it would ease off and end but for labor, I knew it would continue to worsen because that’s what they needed to do to produce the baby! This fact made me break down emotionally. They had asked a couple times if I wanted an epidural. I didn’t want it—if I could handle my periods, I could do this. My mom’s babies gave her short labors; maybe 4 hours tops. I could make that work, I knew it. But, eventually, I realized I couldn’t take it. It had been 9 hours and I decided one more cervix check would determine what came next. I thought I had to at least be 5cm and if that was the case, I could do it! But the check showed 1cm, still. I felt defeated and asked for the epidural. (By the way, it’s never too late to get an epidural, but the anesthesiologist can get busy. Also, it won’t wear off if because they can give more. Don’t let them be stingy!)

My nurse, Brooke, was a godsend. She was so honest with me about everything and gave advice on what I could ask for. She let me know that everything that went on was my choice. “You’ve come a long way, you really tried hard and you should be proud. There’s no reason to put yourself through more pain. But, if you want to try longer you can. You’re in control.”

The time between asking for the epidural and receiving it was the worst. At least for me. The pain had become nearly constant and was so strong I could no longer control myself. I could barely move. I laid on the bed, curled into the siderail squeezing it as though my life depended on it. I sobbed in pain, trying desperately so remember that tensing up made it worse, that I needed to breathe. Impossible. When the doctor was finally ready, I was feeling pretty embarrassed that I moaned and cried with pain, that I made a scene. I’m not a dramatic person. This was hell. My husband was asked to leave (if something bad happens and you code, they don’t want him in the way). Brooke came to me and explained how I needed to position my back, keep it straight, curl over a pillow, remain still. I admitted how I was afraid of the epidural. She told me she was sorry I had to cry and leaned in to tell me firmly how strong I am. She made me believe her with her embrace.

The epidural worked almost instantly. The pain melted as the feeling in my lower half disappeared. Relief washed over me. My body existed and I could feel touch, but there was no pain. My monitor registered contractions, but I didn’t feel them. Matt said in the fifteen minutes he’d been gone, I transformed and it amazed him. The hardest part for him had been watching me feel that pain while powerless to help other than rubbing my back while I clung to the bed. He had helped me walk, steadied me on the Birthing ball, kept me focused when I needed it and distracted when that was best. He made me laugh and confirmed my strength. He was my rock and, gods, I love that man.

Eventually, I began to feel pressure in my contractions. Like I needed to poop. It would come and go. Matt could watch the monitor and was amused by what I could and couldn’t feel as the needle danced around. Brooke brought Dr. Sara at about the 13 hour mark in to check my dialation. I couldn’t move my legs, so they moved them for me like a rag doll. I laughed as my left leg flopped off the bed because I couldn’t stop it.

I expected 4cm or that my luck would leave me at 1cm forever. I was 10cm and ready to “labor down” until my OB could arrive. Once again, my husband and I felt relief that we would soon see our little peanut. We were amazed at how much time went by so quickly. At the 14 hour mark or so, I asked when I could push and Dr. Sara said it was up to me. We could do some practice pushing so I could learn how to do it and without being able to feel much. “Push like you have to poop.” It makes sense, except when you can tell if you’re doing it right. You really have to have good coaching and I am so blessed to have had Brooke and Sara helping me. Brooke held my left leg, my husband had my right leg, and they all watched the monitor for my contractions to come. Eventually, I could feel some that the computer didn’t pick up. I pushed with the contractions, and though I was told I was doing well, I felt like nothing was happening.

Brooke said if I wanted to, she could get a mirror so I could see. I laughed a little and said I didn’t know. Sara admitted some things you can’t unsee. I said I thought I wanted to but that it would probably make it worse for me. They said they could help me to touch if I wanted, too. I didn’t, but appreciated the offer. We joked a lot and exchanged stories. I often stopped to push and returned to the story once the contraction was over. My husband was beside himself that I pushed so hard and went right back into story mode.

My OB came and the show moved faster. He wanted to cut me and I felt a surge of panic. There were three things (well, 4: I hoped to not need a cessarian) I didn’t want to have for labor and they were pitocin, an epidural, and an episiotomy. My husband instantly reassured me that it would be okay. The baby’s head was just too big. Sara said I could wait if I wanted to keep trying; she had been massaging around my vulva as I pushed. I said one more (because the contraction was right there) but that it was okay. It had been nearly 16 hours since my water broke and I didn’t want to prolong my labor any longer that I had to, for the baby’s sake.

After three tiny (and audibly sickening) snips, I was able to birth a large, blue/pale/red head and then shoulders. They took care of where the umbilical cord was and immediately brought my little girl to my chest while she cried for the first time. I pet her head and comforted her as a nurse wiped her clean as best she could as I held her. My husband expressed his pride and joy in the moment; his face will forever be in my mind. He cut the cord while the nurses who suddenly doubled or tripled in numbers kept me distracted with questions as Sara delivered my afterbirth. I still felt no pain. “What a peaceful way to enter the room,” Dr. Sara had said.

They took Olivia from me to wash her up on the other side of the room. They weighed her (after taking quick guesses) and cooed over her beauty. They handed a clean baby to my husband who melted at her touch. I marveled at the proud father, the only man I ever would have concidered having children with. That, right there, was my family.

Olivia Joan. 10/14/2017, 6:53pm. 8.0lbs. 21 in long. 12.5 in head circumference. 16 hours of labor. Full head of long, dark hair. My miracle rainbow baby.

Labor doesn’t go as planned. Have an idea of what you want and let your partner know so they can help be your voice, but know that plans can change and it doesn’t make you a failure. Do what is healthy for your baby.

When you have good nurses and doctors, let them know it.