The birth of David Nathanael

When I was sixteen, I watched The Business of Being Born for the first time. I decided right then and there that I wanted a home birth. Hospitals freaked me out anyways and something about welcoming your baby into your home with no interventions and allowing your body to do what it was designed for was incredible to me. I never strayed from that desire. I imagined what my birth would be like before I was ever pregnant. What it would be like to experience every contraction, to push my baby out, to have them immediately placed on me, all of it. When we found out we were pregnant I began seeing my midwife, building a relationship with her, and the image for my birth continued to develop. At twenty one weeks pregnant Drex and I took a childbirth class geared towards home birth. We learned and listened and my excitement only grew. Would I have him in our bedroom? The floor? The bathroom? Drex and I spent countless hours over the course of those weeks talking and imagining how it would go. What we never imagined or talked about was the possibility of it going so completely different than everything we had planned for ourselves.

Tuesday, June 10th I woke up feeling horrible. I was nauseated and had a headache and everything just hurt. I had an appointment with my midwife that day and I remember walking in and her asking "how are you doing?". I just about broke down in tears as I answered her. I just didn't feel good. The appointment went okay, my blood pressure was up again but baby looked and sounded great. I left and jokingly mentioned that I hoped we'd be seeing her in a few hours. That evening, at 6:30pm my contractions started. Drex was out with a friend so I just laid on the couch and decided I'd start timing them. They were 8-12 minutes apart and lasting 35-40 seconds. I texted Drex telling him I thought he may need to come home soon, turns out his phone was dead but thankfully he walked in the door only moments later. I didn't mention to him that I suspected I was in early labor, but told him I didn't feel good and wanted to head to bed. Once in bed another contraction hit and this one was stronger than the previous ones. I stopped talking and focused on getting through it. Drex looked at me and just sort of stated "I think you just had a contraction". I laughed and told him I'd been having them and was currently timing them. 

They picked up in intensity quickly and before I knew it I wasn't able to lay down anymore. I felt the need to move. It was the only way I could get through them. At this point they were 4-5 minutes apart and lasting 60+ seconds long. I started sobbing. They hurt, bad, and nothing was relieving the pain. Drex called my mom and told her to head down, and then I called my midwife and she headed over to check me. I was only 1.5cm dilated and 75% effaced. I felt SO discouraged. She recommended I lay down and try to rest. I think I managed to lay down for maybe 15 minutes but I really felt the need to move. It was the only thing that made them manageable for me. The night was long, I was on my feet the entire time, pacing back and forth. I remember the walk perfectly, crib, door, guest bedroom, circle, our room, crib, repeat. My back labor was bad so my midwife would put her hands on my back while I walked. I kept crying about how exhausted I was, I just wanted to rest but I couldn't make myself sit. After 12 hours my midwife decided to check me again, 2.5cm and 85% effaced. After 12 hours of labor I had only gained 1cm. 

I felt so defeated and right then and there I just sort of gave up. I was exhausted and didn't feel like I could do it anymore. I’d been on my feet for 12 hours and the contractions were too strong to lay or sit down. I mentally gave up the idea of having a home birth, and in that moment, I didn’t care. I was in pain and nothing was happening. I remember crying and crying that I didn’t want to be in pain anymore, that I needed help, that I wanted to go to the hospital. My midwife agreed. Drex talked to me for awhile, making sure I was okay with this decision. Even then he wanted to make sure I was okay. I am so thankful for that. She called the hospital to let them know we were going to be coming, but they told us they wouldn't have a bed for us until 8am (it was 6am when we called). Those two hours of waiting to go to the hospital were the worst. I'd given up on a drug free labor and a home birth and was ready to just get to the hospital and do it. 

Arriving at the hospital is all kind of a blur. They asked if I wanted to be put in a wheel chair, I said no. I couldn't sit. I finally got to the room and they asked me to use the bathroom. I couldn't (seriously, when I say I couldn't sit, I actually couldn't sit. I needed to stand and no other position was going to work). My midwife helped me put a gown on, at some point they put in an IV (I remember the nurse getting blood all over the floor, I was swollen and my veins were basically nonexistent), at another point they told me I had preeclampsia so I would need to be put magnesium sulfate. Eventually I was given the epidural, which took the pain of the contractions away but not the pain of the catheter (turns out they used a bigger size than needed). I kept mentioning how bad the catheter hurt. They finally put lidocaine on around it which burned, but did eventually numb it. They checked me and I was dilated to 4cm. The doctor wanted to break my water, but I declined. I knew once it was broken we'd be on a timeline. They administered pitocin and then strep b antibiotics since I'd never been tested. All of this happened within an hour or two. Then I slept.

When I woke up, I'd gone from 4cm to 9cm. My oxygen was low so they had me wear an oxygen mask. They broke my water and soon I was ready to push. I pushed and pushed and then the doctor told me she needed to turn him. She told me it would hurt, and it did. The first time she attempted I screamed and said stop stop stop. She told me that if I said stop, she couldn't continue. She tried again and I held my tongue. Once he was turned, I was okay to push again. By this time my epidural wasn't working as well and I could feel every contraction. I didn't need to be told to push, my body had that covered. Between every push I'd ask for either a drink of water or a bite of popsicle. The cold, for whatever reason, seemed to help. I have no idea how long I pushed for, but it felt like an eternity. Eventually they checked his station again and he hadn't budged. My body was still exhausted and my pushes weren't doing what they needed to. He wasn't descending at all. Another doctor came in to consult, and then advised a c-section. I cried and cried. We had to make the decision. His heart rate was still good, but we knew that the chances of him going into stress were really high and that would mean an emergency c-section, something I desperately wanted to avoid. All I wanted was a healthy baby, so we made the decision to do the c-section. 

They wheeled me into the operating room. I remember it was SO bright. They needed me to move from my bed to the table, which was one of the most painful moments. My contractions were on top of each other, I was terrified of having surgery, and they needed me to move. Once moved, the anesthesiologist came over to administer the spinal. The feeling of needing to throw up came over me and I told them to wait, that I needed to puke, so to wait. Afterwards, the spinal was administered and my contractions were almost immediately gone. They laid me out, checked to make sure I couldn't feel anything, and then called Drex and our photographer in. Drex sat down next to me and we waited. Before I knew it they were telling I'd feel a lot of pressure, and then suddenly the room filled with shrieks as they pulled our baby boy out. He peed all over me immediately. He cried, I cried, Drex cried. Drex told me how perfect he was, and then went to bring him over to me. I remember seeing his swaddled little self, Drex telling me how much hair he had, me telling him "hi baby" and then looking at Drex and telling him, "he's perfect". I kept asking how much he weighed, "9 pounds!". Drex came back over and held him, sitting next to me as they finished closing me up. They transferred me back to my hospital bed using this weird hovercraft thing (it picked me up and floated me over). I asked if I could hold him and Drex set him down in the crook of my arm. 

After 27 hours of hard exhausting labor, most of which I spent on my feet, we met our baby. Once we were back to the room and settled in, one of the nurse midwives who'd been helping me came in. She told me he was completely sunny side up, just looking right at them and that he'd stuck his hand out of me right when they got in. She told me he wouldn't have come out, that it would've ended in a c-section no matter what, that his position was just all wrong, and that we'd made the right decision. 

I laughed while talking to Drex today. How my natural birth turned into a mega intervention one, I mean, just about every intervention they could do was done! There are many moments I have mourned the loss over; immediate skin to skin, being the first person to hold him, delayed cord clamping, etc. I had this beautiful image of how I dreamt of meeting my baby, and reality was so far from that. I've cried and cried. Until a few days ago, I couldn't even talk about it. But here I am. There are many moments that I missed out on. But there are other moments I gained. My entire family was a part of my labor. My mom arrived first and my dad and sister came later. My sister helped hold my legs during pushing, my dad pushed on my back at one point, my mom did a little of everything. Those moments are ones I am thankful for. I didn't get to hold my baby immediately following birth, but Drex did, and those two have a bond like no other.  I had the most amazing operating team, and the greatest nurse who replaced my catheter just before surgery and tried a smaller one so I didn't have any catheter pain the rest of my stay. She also came to visit us the next day once she came back for her shift. Seriously, she was such a blessing to us. Our birth photographer had never been allowed back into the operating room before, I am so thankful the hospital was okay with that. 

I've spent the last week allowing my birth to have more power than it should. What happened and the loss of my home birth and the emotions that come along with that are real. They're very real and they're hard and they need to be talked about. But the loss of my planned birth doesn't define my journey into motherhood. It doesn't deserve that. My birth, though totally different than planned, brought my beautiful baby boy earth side. My love and bond for and with him are no less just because I didn't hold him immediately or birth him vaginally. I've spent the last week reminding myself of that. He is perfect and amazing and the way he entered this world doesn't change those things. It doesn't define him, it doesn't define me. It's a part of our journey, but it's not THE journey. My body didn't fail me, it grew and sustained the most perfect life for 9 months. It needed some help, and that's okay. My birth wasn't a failed birth. It brought my boy here safe and sound and I celebrate it for that. I am thankful for the amazing women who filled the operating room and encouraged me every step of the way. I am thankful that we were able to make the decision, that it wasn't made for us. That my c-section wasn't a bad c-section. I'm thankful that my birth wasn't traumatic for me. Hard? Yes. Emotional? Yes. But not traumatic. All sorts of births are beautiful and incredible and empowering and amazing and I'm learning to embrace that.