It's been nearly three weeks since Leo's birth, and I find myself reflecting on the experience nearly everyday. I welcomed the process of laboring and delivering Leo - maybe because there were so many risks associated with this pregnancy, or maybe just because bringing a life into this world is miraculous no matter the circumstances. Whatever the reason, I was looking forward to it. So often, I'm the one who would happily skip the difficult journey to reach the destination. So often, I'm the one who would jump at the chance to schedule and plan a big life event like this, which we could have done if we chose to have a c-section. In the case of childbirth, however, that's never been my wish.
My water broke the day before my due date when we were pregnant with Anna. We had hopes for an intervention-free labor and delivery. We hired a doula, worked with midwives, and took Lamaze in an effort to make this happen. So much of the process is beyond our control though, and when we went to the hospital after my water broke, it was discovered that Anna was in the frank breech position. This meant that she had to be delivered by c-section. I never even had a contraction before they brought her into the world.
While I was thrilled to have a healthy baby in my arms and knew this was, ultimately, the most important thing, a large part of me was devastated by the surprise. I was angry that our midwife didn't identify her position earlier (the pediatricians said Anna had been breech for some time), because there were numerous techniques we could have used to try to flip her. I was disappointed that we no longer had choices in the birth process. I didn't like the impact that an epidural, drugs, and surgery had on my mental state post-delivery or on Anna's ability to nurse right away. I knew going into the hospital that we weren't likely to have our "ideal" labor experience, but this wasn't even a sliver of the picture that I'd envisioned.
Call me crazy (plenty of people have), but I really, really wanted to have the experience of a vaginal, intervention-free delivery. I don't judge anyone for choosing a different path, but for me, it was both something I wanted to know and it was the path that felt the healthiest and safest. It's not that I wanted to experience all that pain - I think that if there were a side-effect free way to take the edge off the pain, I might have welcomed it, especially during the pushing phase. But, narcotics and epidurals just plain freak me out. Surgery freaks me out, too. And, recovery from surgery, especially with a 4-year-old running around, isn't easy. So, we embarked on the VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) journey this time around, and once again, hired a doula and worked with midwives.
How it all unfolded...
We've been told that only ten percent of women actually experience their water breaking before they go into labor, so I wasn't really expecting it to happen to me twice. For some reason we'll never know, it happened again. When my water broke at 7pm on Monday, July 23rd, at just 36 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I wasn't feeling very confident that Leo's birth would be what I'd envisioned. At that point I felt shocked, overwhelmed, and worried about our baby's health most of all. I just wanted to get to the hospital and find out if our baby boy was OK.
Once we arrived at the hospital and they confirmed that my water did, indeed, break (yes, they questioned it even after I informed them that it gushed just like it does in the movies), and they confirmed that our babe was doing just fine in utero, the clock started ticking. We were told to get rest, but at the same time, we needed to try to get contractions going, because the longer one goes with one's water broken, the greater the risk of infection. Given the circumstances, I could not sleep. We were initially told we had until 7am, and then we'd need to consider Pitocin. I wasn't thrilled about this option, because it's not often someone can manage laboring on Pitocin without pain medication. Thanks to the support of our doula and to the midwife who came on at the 7am shift change, we were given a full 24 hours (or more) to get into a regular contraction pattern. During that time I tried to rest, and I may have gotten a 20 minute cat nap in somewhere, but by late Tuesday night, I'd pretty much been awake since Monday morning...and then the fun began.
When my contractions were still 30 minutes apart after 24 hours, we agreed to starting the lowest dose of Pitocin possible to see how my body might respond. It's not a typical way to administer the drug, but they were willing to explore options given how well Leo was tolerating the process (I nicknamed him "Trooper" in the midst of it all, because of his resilience through labor and delivery). In the end, the midwives never felt the need to increase the Pitocin dose as they typically would, because my body took over. By 10:30pm on Tuesday night, I was in full blown labor. Blake, our doula, and an amazing nurse who we'd had the night before, supported me through each contraction over the next seven and a half hours. During that time, I was up, I was down, I was in the shower, I was swearing, I was making noise, I was focused, and I was in another realm without any medication to take the edge off the pain. Just three weeks later, I cannot recall the exact nature of the pain - I just recall how crazy it felt.
It seemed things were progressing by 5:30am, but we really had no idea how close I might be to pushing, because checking for dilation could increase my risk for infection given that my water was broken. When I said (or forcefully asserted) that I was beginning to feel the urge to push, they decided to check me, and thankfully, I was dilated to 9 cm. For two and a half hours, after being awake for 48 hours, I pushed. For me, this was, without a doubt, the most physically challenging thing I have ever done. I was beyond exhausted, and I still had so much work to do. On top of the effort required to push, the pain of pushing was, for me, much more challenging to tolerate than the pain of contractions. This pain is still completely fresh in my mind. I was sure he was splitting me in two, and apparently, I quite loudly told this to everyone in the room. It was a slow, gradual process, which seemed torturous at the time, but in the end, the timing was a very good thing for my body.
When Leo finally emerged and was lifted directly onto my chest, Blake was behind me, supporting me. I held Leo close as Blake and I both stared in awe at our little miracle. He was born at 36 weeks and 6 days, just one day shy of full-term, and he was in perfect health, despite every risk he was faced with. Blake cut the cord and Leo stayed on my chest as the pediatricians examined him. He immediately latched on and began nursing, despite his questionable premie status. In those moments right after Leo's birth, the pain was forgotten. I felt something indescribable, something I really can't put words to. Just like with Anna, I felt love more intense than I'd ever felt. Just like with Anna, I was overwhelmed with that love, with gratitude, with awe. This time, though, it felt like a much more spiritual experience for me. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I felt a greater sense of connection to the universe, to all things, to life (maybe because I was so out of my head!) I felt empowered. I felt strong. I felt absolutely amazed at what our bodies and minds can do. I felt everything, and that felt (when it was all over) good.