Leon's Birth Story: Labor and Birth

I know I made you wait an eternity for this, but here it is, Leon's birth.  So I forgot to mention in my last post that when we scheduled the induction one of the midwives said, "I will be starting the foley bulb Monday evening, but won't be doing the induction.  I already have one 37-weeker in the NICU."  Seriously?!  I couldn't believe she said that.  If I wasn't nervous before that certainly did the trick.

Photo courtesy of Jesse Kitt Photography

Now on with the story...
I spent a long, uncomfortable night in the hospital.  The foley bulb didn't cause much activity in my uterus, but my bladder had a field day.  I probably should have given in and propped myself up on the toilet and slept there.  Seriously.  I peed all night long.  And if you've ever spent the night in labor and delivery you know how uncomfortable those beds that break down are.  Needless to say, the next morning I was tired, but ready for a change (hopefully of the cervical kind).

They started the pitocin just before 8 a.m. and shorty after 8 I began contracting slowly.  Our doula arrived after a brief detour to grab our camera.  Around 11:30 or so (remember this is all from memory until I find that darn baby book at which time I will record the specifics somewhere else for safe keeping) the foley bulb came out meaning I was about 4 cm.  It was exciting.  I was progressing.

I continued to labor with the support of our lovely midwife, who I liken to Dustin Hoffman in the most flattering way.  She was kind and gentle, and quirky, and made me feel safe and confident.  At one point between contractions early in labor she asked if I would mind if she knitted.  There was plenty of downtime and it seemed like a perfectly good way to pass the time during early labor.  My husband, doula and nurse were also by my side all day.  Remember, I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia and was being induced with pitocin.  That means LOTS of monitoring, which means LOTS of cords everywhere, well, not everywhere... Anyway, our doula was so good at keeping me moving I barely noticed the cords, until I had to use the bathroom, which I did frequently.  I bounced on a birthing ball, I leaned on the bed, I leaned on my husband, rocked in a rocking chair, slept a little in bed, but between each of these positions I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet.  The bathroom was so small, and quiet, and dark.  It wasn't a conscious decision, it's just where I needed to be before moving onto the next position.  Maybe it was like hitting the reset button, giving me renewed strength to let my body do what my body was designed to do?  Maybe I just like bathrooms.   At one point, upon sitting on the commode for the tenth, twelfth or thirteenth time, my husband asked, "Are you actually going to the bathroom?"  It was adorable and I could tell he'd been wanting to know the answer for some time.  I simply said, "Not always".

It went on like that for some time.  Position, bathroom, new position, bathroom.  At the time the hospital did not have wireless monitors so the water birth I had been hoping for was not an option, but you can read about the water birth of our third baby here.  Our doula did the most wonderful thing and brought a large bucket of hot water to soak my feet.  I rocked in the rocking chair while she rubbed my warm feet.  It was only my feet, but it was so soothing.  All the while they were increasing the pitocin and I was holding strong.  And then around 2 p.m., something changed, unfortunately not my cervix.  I was still at 4 cm and struggling to handle the new labor pattern.  Maybe it was the increase in pitocin, maybe it was my body taking over, who knows, but it was different and hard, really hard.  I swear the contractions were coming on top of each other.  I sobbed a bit and our midwife called a meeting of the minds. The midwife, nurse, doula and my hubby all gathered around and we talked about our options.  We considered that my progress had slowed, we considered that first babies can be pokey, we considered that my blood pressure was high, we considered that baby seemed perfectly healthy, we considered that I was getting tired.  The consensus was that this could be a very long labor and that maybe I could use a break.  So, after yet another visit to the thinking throne, aka the toilet, I asked for the epidural.  I was sad, but I was also tired and the idea of resting sounded so nice.  Because of my high blood pressure they had to get a platelet count before I could get the epidural.  The midwife felt that we should turn the pitocin off so I could rest and then we'd restart it at half strength (sorry for the lack of medical terminology here) once I had the epidural.  She said it should take about 15 minutes for my labor to stop.

Imagine my surprise after 30 minutes when they told me that my body was laboring on it's own.  In a grand gesture they stripped all the cords off and we switch to intermittent monitoring.  It felt so freeing even though I didn't feel overly inhibited before.  I could breathe in between contractions, but they were still strong and regular.  I was able to manage these contractions.  The ones that my body was creating on it's own.  I started to feel nauseous around  3:30 p.m.  The lab was backed up and we were still waiting on the platelet count.  That was the furthest thing from my mind at that point.  The second time I puked my bag of waters exploded and I was a bit surprised.  The amazing women supporting us agreed that it might be wise to check me.  I was feeling excited and nervous and curious and anxious.  Then they told me that I'm 9 almost 10 cm.  Now I was overwhelmed.  In another grand gesture the midwife waved her hand in the air like a queen waving away a servant and said, "Call off the epidural."

I again sought the comfort of the porcelain god and my husband and I sat in quiet darkness.  I looked up at him and at first thought he was laughing, but closer inspection revealed tears.  He was crying.  He let out a mucusy giggle when he realized I was looking at him.  He said, "So this is really happening."  To which I responded, "Like right now!  Uh, I feel something".  Overhearing this, our amazing team of women gently guide me to the bed.  I didn't think about it, couldn't have thought about it if they'd asked, I just climbed onto the bed and draped myself over the inclined back of the bed.  As I did the nurse said, "Hurry, I see his head."  Sheets were thrown down quickly and they said it would feel similar to going poop.  To which I replied, "Good, because I might". (Poop that is).  The midwife responded, "We like poop almost as much as we like vomit."  I laughed and with the next contraction his head was out.  And if you want to know (cause you know you're a little curious now), I did poo a little and I hardly noticed.  It was not a big deal.

I can't say that I pushed, because that's not exactly what happened.  My uterus pushed.  I was bearing down, but only because there was no other choice.  It was nothing like I'd ever seen on television with people counting and me holding my breath (not usually recommended but still widely practiced, by the way) and my legs in the air.  I was in a natural birthing position and my body was pushing my baby out.  There was no choice other than to bear down.  With one more push he was out.  My strong, healthy, perfect baby boy with his dark head of hair had made his way into this world and our hearts at 4:28 p.m. on August 21, 2007.  He weighed 6 lbs. 14 oz. was 17 3/4 inches and was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I was a mama.  We were parents.

Looking down at Leon and I from the top of the raised bed.

I believe that I was in transition when I described the change in labor and I believe the pitocin was making it even harder.  I also feel strongly that if I had the epidural things might have ended differently.  Maybe my labor would have slowed drastically. Maybe I would have had to push for a long time and been swollen and sore.  Maybe I would not have been able to push effectively and more interventions would have been required.  Maybe he would have busted out right then and there.  Maybe it would have unfolded much the same way.  No one knows for sure.  I do know that without pain medication my body was able to do exactly what it needed to to birth my sweet boy and I wasn't a martyr (a description I loathe).  I wasn't suffering.  I was birthing.  I was becoming a mother the best way I knew how.

Ada Marie's Water Birth Story Part 2

Now where were we?  Oh, yes, part 1 of Ada Marie's birth story concluded a few hours short of 38 weeks, 2 cm dilated, 50% effaced, with mild preeclampsia and low amniotic fluid.  As I mentioned, I was really surprised that the ultrasound revealed anything out of the ordinary.  I was prepared to take castor oil.  I was prepared to be induced on Monday.  I was prepared to go home and wait.  I was NOT prepared to stay at the hospital for an immediate induction.  I was feeling anxious.  For us, birth had never unfolded exactly the way we thought it would, but somehow this felt very different.

Shortly after we got settled into our room our doula arrived.  We talked through some of my anxieties while we waited for our midwife.  Our midwife brought such a calm, soothing presence to the situation.  She sat with us and explained the decisions that were being made, patiently answered all of our questions and told us we could try nipple stimulation with a breast pump to see if that would be enough to start labor.  We tried that for about 45 minutes.  It didn't start labor, but it did cause contractions and I was able to collect some colostrum that I was able to give to a gay couple who had a baby the day before and were looking for breast milk.  When the nipple stimulation didn't work our midwife explained that we would use cervidil to get labor started and then remove it once I was in labor.  I was nervous because we'd never used cervidil and because it was getting late and I was getting tired.  They inserted the cervidil around 10:30 p.m. and I was able to sleep for a bit.

I woke around 1 a.m. to use the bathroom.  I'm not sure if I was conscious of it or not, but I began to pace from one corner of the room to the other while chatting with Steve and our doula.  I was cold so I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders as I paced.  Steve and our doula knew I was in labor at that point, but I don't think I had realized it yet.  I started to feel like our baby girl was very low - like ready to fall out kinda low.  The nurse checked me and said that baby was very low, but that I was only 3 cm and she could feel some scar tissue and we'd probably need to manually break up the scar tissue.  Whaaa?  That didn't sound like fun and it didn't make sense to me because the procedure causing the scar tissue was from way before my pregnancies and hadn't caused any problems with the other two.

Our camera stopped working just moments before her birth.  These were all taken with our cell phone.  At first I was really disappointed, but now I kind of like them.  They are dark, like the room was and not completely clear kind of  like the mental state (aka labor land) that mamas enter during active labor.

By 2 a.m. I was fully aware that I was in labor.  I had hoped for a water birth with my other two children, but the first time I was monitored heavily and the second was too fast.  So our doula began filling the large birthing tub.  While it was filling I sat on a birthing ball in the tub and she ran water on my shoulders, back and belly.  It was so soothing.  Then I got down into the tub on my knees.  I felt my body relax into the contractions that were now fast and furious.  I knew we'd be meeting our little girl very soon and I was filled with emotion.  Needless to say the scar tissue on my cervix did not present a problem.

The midwife had given us space to sleep and relax while we waited for the pitocin to kick in.  She asked to be informed immediately when labor started because my second labor was so fast (1 hr. 45 mins. from 1cm to birth).  Somehow she wasn't told, but I was fully supported by my husband, doula and nurse.  She came in just in to check on us and immediately realized that birth was imminent.  She removed the cervidil.  I had a hard time staying low in the water during the contractions so she turned me around to sit and lean against the tub the way you might take a bath at home.  When I turned my water broke.  I pushed once and her head was born.  And, oh the sweet relief.  I didn't feel the need to push again for what seemed like a long time, but was probably about 20 - 30 seconds.  They told me I could reach down to touch her head.  At the time it seemed like so much effort, but I'm so glad that I did.  It felt like a freshly washed peach.  One more push for her shoulders and a last one for her bum and she was born.  She was born with her hand up under her chin as if deep in thought.  Our midwife joked that she almost came out holding the cervidil.  I reached down and pulled her up out of the water.  She was tiny and perfect.

At some point in the tub I remember saying to my husband, "I think this is the part where I say, 'you did this to me' and 'we're never doing this again'".  But I never even thought about drugs.  There was no doubt in my mind that I could bring my baby into this world exactly the way I wanted and needed to.

Nursing my sweet girl about half an hour after birth.

Ada Marie was born in the water and into my arms at 2:57 a.m. on Saturday, August 6, 2011, exactly 38 weeks.  She was an itty bitty thing weighing 6 lbs. 1 oz. and measuring 17 1/4".  And she was loved instantly.

Ada Marie's Water Birth Story Part 1

One year ago today our family and our hearts grew as we welcomed our little girl into this world.  Here is the story of her beautiful birth.

36 weeks pregnant and on a date with the hubby thanks to our fabulous friends who watched the boys.

First the backstory:
At 32 weeks my blood pressure (BP) started to rise. My blood pressure is normally on the low side so when it hit 130/80 I knew we were headed down a familiar, yet still bumpy and sometimes scary road.  You see, my first two pregnancies were very similar.  The first time it came out of the blue and took me completely by surprise.  First the high blood pressure and then the protein in my urine.  I felt fine so how could I have this potentially serious condition known as preeclampsia? And I had no swelling, headaches, upper abdominal pain or funny spots in my vision. But I was induced at 37 weeks the first time and went into labor while waiting to be induced at 37 weeks the second time.  And now I found myself in the same position and while I was not surprised I was still frustrated that there seemed to be nothing I could do to change my fate.  I took comfort in the fact that my first two children were born perfectly healthy at 37 weeks and I was still able to have beautiful, unmedicated births with both of them.

The first high reading at 32 weeks was cause for awareness, but not alarm.  Then at about 35 1/2 weeks I was running errands and my heart began to race, I felt flush and dizzy.  I was in a store that had a blood pressure machine and though I know they can be unreliable I had checked it at that location before and felt it was better than nothing.  My BP reading was 142/92.  I informed the midwives of my high BP reading and waited for an official reading at my appointment 2 days later, 146/104, argh.  The midwife didn't want to tell me, but I believe in making decisions based on all the facts, not just the ones I like.  I had her note that reading along with the second reading, 135/96.  I had blood work done and was sent home to collect 24 hours worth of urine, not my favorite thing to do, but relatively simple in the scheme of things.  I cannot remember what the results of this test were.

We continued to go into the office twice a week to monitor things closely, but I was fairly certain we'd coninue the rest of the pregnancy status quo like the first two and thought we might even have a chance at going full term.  Then, on 8/2, at 37 1/2 weeks the headache hit me.  It was intense and unrelenting.  I drank water like a fish, downed a few acetaminaphin and layed down.  I was home alone with the boys and they knew something wasn't right.  They were patient and quiet and allowed me to try to rest.  My neighbor made it home to watch the boys just as my husband arrived to take me to the midwives' office.  BP was 150/110 - the highest of any of my pregnancies.  We were sent on to Mission for non-stress test (NST) and blood work.  Baby seemed to be doing well so we were sent home with another jug for collecting urine. We were expecting to hear results of our urine collection sometime, hopefully early, on 8/4.  When I heard nothing I thought it was odd, but assumed that no news was good news.  Not so.  Steve and I were driving home separately from a swim at a friend's pool when one of the midwives called to tell me that the 24 hour urine results were in, 364.  Not super high, but anything over 300 plus the high BP is preeclampsia.  So we had two choices 1) come in for an induction, um, now or 2) go in for testing in the morning and then decide.  That hit me like a brick.  It was like 8 or 9 p.m. and I wasn't with Steve and I was just completely caught off guard so I decided to keep my appointment for the following day.

I called our fabulous doula and she was able to calm me down and we talked through all the questions I had so that I could be prepared for our appointment.  Like I said, this was familiar so while I was a little disappointed and caught off guard because of the time that we received the news, I was still confident that our baby girl would be healthy and that we could have another wonderful birth.  Our bags were packed and in the car just in case, but we had a busy weekend with our small business so I assumed that the tests would be fine and we'd either take castor oil or be induced on Monday.

Just before the big event:
At my appointment my belly was measuring 36, which alone didn't seem to concern anyone. Baby was slow to react during the non-stress test, but once she got going she was strong (the test occurred at at time when she was normally less active).  Then they led us to the ultrasound room for the rest of the biophysical profile.  It's amazing to see your baby so far along in pregnancy, but the lights were dim, the fan was humming quietly and it had been an emotional few days.  Those are all the excuses I use for both hubby and I falling asleep. Seriously, who falls asleep during an ultrasound of their baby?  When I woke up the tech told us that baby didn't do the practice breathing but that was all she said.  We headed back to labor and delivery outpatient area and prepared to leave as the nurses phoned the midwives with the results.  We could hear them talking on the phone but couldn't exactly tell how it was going.  Our wonderful midwife called our room and told us the news.  We were not going home.  Whaaa????    She would be heading to the hospital and we would begin an induction immediately.  I didn't see that coming.  With my other pregnancies our tests had always come back fine.  I was surprised to learn that our amniotic fluid appeared to be pretty low.  Average is about 12, 6 is on the lowest side of normal, mine was 4.  I realize this is not an exact thing because they are limited by what they can see, but it is a part of the big picture.  If it was just that the fluid was low they said they probably would have had us drink a lot of water over the weekend and come back on Monday, but with the other symptoms they felt it was safest to induce.  I was one day shy of 38 weeks, 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced.  We phoned our doula and she was on her way.

Tomorrow I'll post about the labor and birth.

Welcome Home Baby

There we were, two midwives and I, the doula, sitting around a beautifully inviting circular table inside an obviously loved and cherished home.  As we contemplated stages of labor and who would be the first to sample the just-sweet-enough smelling muffins the couple had baked in the earliest stages of labor, it seemed fitting that we were seated at this open, welcoming, soft, yet strong table surrounded by sturdy walls and protected by the dark of night.  It seemed fitting that this, my first home birth experience, would begin in this way and so I asked, "Other than the obvious, how is a home birth different from a hospital birth?"  I originally thought I meant the logistics, where supplies are kept, who does what, who cleans what, etc.  But I now know that the answer I was looking for was something more of a feeling and it all became clear shortly after the clock signaled the start of a new day on June 27, 2012.

I sat barefoot in the soft, creaky glider used countless times to rock her first son to sleep and watched the immediate bond form with her second son while they snuggled and cooed in her bed just moments after his birth.  She rubbed the feet that only minutes earlier had fluttered and kicked inside her as he made his journey from the world that only they shared and into his home, his little place on this big earth.  To be born into that place where he belongs unconditionally, into that place where his arrival has been anticipated with hope and joy since his conception is something words cannot explain.  You have to be present to feel and appreciate the beauty and the rightness of starting his life right where he is meant to be.

It was around midnight on this fresh, dark night when we heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman nearing the end of her labor.  We went quickly, but gently to where the mama clung tightly to her husband as the waves compounded and released the ocean inside her.  I was completely present in both mind and body, applying counter pressure and using affirmations, but make no mistake I was a guest on this journey.  Mama and papa were in a world by themselves, she rocking and moaning and bearing the weight of the final stages of labor and he, genuinely in awe of this strong, courageous woman who would soon bless him with their fourth child.  I was simply there in case they lost their rhythm or in case fear briefly took over I would help lead them back.  But they walked through it in complete synchronicity - papa guiding and reassuring mama - and they were rewarded for their hard work with a babe who knew just when to arrive.  He knew just what his mama could handle and before his head had been completely born he let out a small, muffled cry to greet his parents.

Look at their faces - papa's filled with pride and joy and mama's filled with relief, both filled with love.

And as these parents bonded and loved each other and their new babe, we visitors returned to that welcoming round table and sat in tired and contented silence until the elder midwife looked up from her just-sweet-enough tasting muffin and asked me, "So, how is a home birth different?"

My three perfect miracles were all born with the support of my husband, a midwife and a doula, without pain medication, in the hospital and each birth was beautiful, peaceful and perfect.  I've attended several serene hospital births as a doula, but this experience was life-changing and left my womb aching, just a little, to bring forth life in our home with complete and pure love and acceptance.  And since some of you will ask, no, there are no current plans to do so.

Leave a comment and let us know where we can read your birth story.

"The Apples In One Seed": Part I (aka The Hubby's Birth Day)

A blog titled Birthing Me would not be complete without the occasional birth story. To honor the members of our family I thought it might be fun to tell their birth story on their birth day. So, today is my husband's birthday and to properly tell his story I contacted the woman who knows it best - his mama, aka Grandma Chris. In true Chris fashion she put her all into delivering the story I requested and it is a story. So, without further delay please give a warm welcome to first-time-guest-blogger Grandma Chris.

From the moment that I learned I was pregnant in the summer of 1979, I knew I was embarking on a journey that would be emotionally, medically, and financially challenging. What I did not know then that I do know now is how that difficult and often lonely and heartbreaking journey would change me, strengthen me, deepen me, and become the greatest love story of my life.

My husband and I met in 1975 as graduate students at Michigan State University (MSU) and were married on June 11, 1977. Unfortunately by June 1979 when I learned I was pregnant, there were already significant problems in our marriage. The reality of an unexpected pregnancy magnified to me the reality of our marriage: my husband did not want a baby, nor did he want me as his wife. I was devastated. My dream of a loving husband encouraging and supporting me through a potentially difficult pregnancy was crumbling. I agonized about whether it was even in my child's best interests to bring him or her into this world. I sought advice from several medical professionals who educated me about the special challenges and risks of pregnancy in diabetic women. (I had developed Type I insulin-dependent diabetes in 1973 and needed several daily injections of insulin plus a strict diet and exercise regimen.) I continued to see a marriage counselor, although after several sessions, my husband had refused to participate any further. The focus of my counseling shifted to how I would manage a high-risk pregnancy and child-rearing as a single parent.

At perhaps my lowest moment, I received a message of encouragement and faith in the form of a stained glass apple inscribed with the words "Any man can count the number of seeds in one apple, but only God can count the number of apples in one seed." I suddenly realized that my doctors and therapists and I had only been counting the obvious difficulties and challenges that I was facing. I knew I needed instead to believe that there were countless ways, yet unseen, in which this baby, this child, this person, would make a difference in my life and the lives of everyone he or she encountered.

From that day forward, I committed myself to the journey of single parenthood with faith, love, and positive thoughts. Almost immediately circumstances changed for me. I was contacted and enrolled in a research project at MSU Medical College involving pregnant diabetic women. The equipment and monitoring that was provided to me at no cost were a true blessing. I was able to frequently test my blood sugar levels at home and adjust my insulin needs accordingly. Medical professionals monitored me closely and were available by phone for any questions or problems that I had.

I began to marvel at the changes in my body and the miracle of the life growing inside of me. The week of my 27th birthday (October 15) I felt the first detectable flutters of movement. It was an indescribable moment that moved me to tears. I read and studied everything I could about pregnancy and childbirth and especially the special concerns of being a diabetic mother. I hoped I could have as normal and natural a delivery as possible.

On the advice of my doctors, I resigned from my full-time job to better care for myself. I also made plans to move back to Wisconsin where I would have the love and support of my family and friends. In early November 1979 my father flew to Lansing to help me pack my car and a trailer and drive me back to Wisconsin.

Soon after returning to the Eau Claire area I met with my family doctor and an OB/GYN doctor who both were willing to monitor my pregnancy so that I could continue to participate in the MSU research study. For the most part things went smoothly. I did have two short hospitilizations in my third trimester: one for blood sugar problems due to a stomach flu and the other because I'd developed pre-eclampsia. I learned from my OB doctor that the babies of diabetic women often die in the 39th and 40th week of pregnancy for reasons that were unknown at that time. Therefore it was standard practice to induce labor or do a C-section several weeks before the mother's due date. However, if delivered too early, the baby's lungs may not be fully developed and the baby could have serious respiratory problems. To avoid this, an amniocentesis procedure could be done to measure how well the lungs were developed. On February 19, 1980, I had the first amniocentesis. The test result was close to the desired level but my doctor felt it best to go one more week. The next amniocentesis was done on February 26. I remember the doctor taking one look at my huge belly that day and declaring, "Looks like it's time to get this duck out of the oven!"

The test revealed my baby's lungs were developed enough for life outside the womb. Because of the position of the baby, the doctor felt it best to deliver by C-section and arrangements were made for me to check into the hospital that evening and have surgery early the next day.

I had read about and prepared myself mentally for a C-section. Although I regretted not having a natural delivery, I knew it was more important to bring my baby as safely as possible into the world, given my diabetes. I was planning to have a spinal anesthetic so that I could be awake and be able to see my baby as soon as he or she was born. The evening of February 26, 1980, I checked into the hospital, had numerous blood tests performed, and preparations for surgery at 8AM the next morning.

That night I found it difficult to get to sleep. I was feeling so many emotions - mostly excitement and joy, but also anxiety and fear about the surgery and my baby's health. I even felt a sort of sadness about the pregnancy ending. It had been such an incredible experience and I felt a very strong bond with this mysterious and yet very familiar being living and growing and tumbling around inside of me. I prayed for strength and guidance and wisdom for the months and years ahead and made a promise to my baby that night to be the best mother that I could be.

Thanks, Grandma Chris! We look forward to part II! I'm thankful for the choices she made that brought my wonderful husband into this world. It sounds like it was a time of much reflection and meditation. Raising kids is challenging with two parents so I can only imagine the challenges she faced as a single parent, but she raised an incredible man and should be very proud of herself and of him.

Happy Birth Day, Babe and goodnight.