[gracesspace70]

They say, “man makes plans; God laughs”.

Baby Albert was due on September 10th. Yoga was proceeding apace, preparations for the baby were casually progressing. My last name had finally been legally changed to my married name, and our insurance had been updated. The final sonogram and Group B Strep test was set for August 14, and we planned to inform our doctor of the name change t1hen for their records - then she would pass the lab work on to the hospital.

Saturday night, August 2, I had the longest, most comfortable sleep for a long while; still interrupted by bathroom trips, but close to 12 hours and not disturbed by my customary reflux or muscle aches. In hindsight, both Geoffrey and I spent the day "nesting"; I organized my closet so that I didn’t have to sort through pre-pregnancy shirts while getting ready for work, and I also spent a long time on a website, trying to determine my baby’s positioning by charting kicks and lumps. Geoffrey said later that I was probably having pains even then - I had definitely been uncomfortable for the previous few days, and was now thinking the last month of pregnancy might get fairly uncomfortable.

After going to bed late, I woke at about 3:15 AM with a hard cramp in my lower belly; I was bleary with sleep and headed for the bathroom. As I arrived in the doorway, I felt a rush of clear fluid down my legs. I told Geoffrey what was happening, and began to clean myself up a bit, thinking of the possible significance, when suddenly I was compelled to vomit. I remembered hearing that vomiting is one of the ways the body advances the baby down. We went to work looking for our doctor’s answering service number - we hadn’t gotten to that stage of organization!

She advised me to go back to bed with a pad on, try to sleep, and to check in an hour to see if the pad had been soaked. We went back to bed, and for about an hour and a half, I lay on my left side with my knees up and breathed deeply through contractions that were, judging by my occasional checks of the clock, were 5 to 7 minutes apart. I dozed in between, not sure if this was really it or not, as no fluid seemed forthcoming. Finally I felt forced to sit up again, and when I stood I had another rush of fluid, and again the need to vomit. I noticed for the first time that the rushes of fluid were coinciding with the contractions. A short time later another rush came, and this one certainly looked like the mucus plug.

We called the doctor back, and she confirmed we should start for the hospital - not just because the water had broken, but also to get started on the IV antibiotics they were sure to give me against Group B strep, as my status was still unknown. We called a car service, and then proceeded to wander about the apartment, trying to decide what we needed to pack. I was still having contractions about every five minutes (though I honestly wasn’t keeping track at all once I was out of bed). I found that I liked standing and leaning over with my chest on the bed, and swaying my hips. But in any position, my main tools were these (and all both instinctual and learned from Deb!):

-to try not to tense anything as I felt the contraction build;
-to try to breathe in as deeply as possible, especially at the beginning of each contraction;
-to let out on the exhale anything and everything that wanted to come, while thinking of a relaxed and open mouth and of keeping the pitch low.

So we got to the hospital at about 7 AM, after a car ride free from vomiting, which made me happy. We stayed in a triage room for quite a long time, until about 11 AM, which I understand now was because of a room shortage and not because it was ever questioned that I would be admitted. As my water had broken and my strep status was unknown, they wanted to minimize the number of times I was checked for progress, to prevent infection; at 8 AM, I was 3-4 cm dilated and 90% effaced. During the time in triage I labored almost entirely as I had at home - on my left side, deeply engaged in breathing and releasing, and almost sleeping (at least completely relaxed physically) in between. As I did that, the poor staff tried to gather information; as my lab work had not yet been brought to the hospital, and my insurance card had my new last name but my doctor’s information did not, so the confusion had to be cleared. I also remember having to tell multiple personnel about being allergic to penicillin and what happens when I take it, which I barely remember as I was a child at the time.

Over the course of my labor, I was really in a very deep, personal place. Sounds, fluttering lips, words in English, other languages (according to Geoffrey and the nurses) and gibberish - I was able to surrender and open myself as a channel for all that needed to come out of me and through me. I felt completely free of inhibition, almost unaware of outside surroundings. I kept my eyes closed most of the time, but was always conscious of being supported by Geoffrey’s hand on my lower back and his soft encouraging words at just the right times.

I had pictured myself in the birthing center, moving freely through a ton of positions, and most of all, using the tub; however at 34-35 weeks, the birthing center was now out. Things happen as they are supposed to, I believe, and I was glad for a few things in L&D that I wouldn’t have had, primarily having the IV for hydration. Even with the IV I was very thirsty for most of the labor, and since I found it difficult to get myself together physically to drink in between contractions, as resting felt like the more necessary thing, the IV was really beneficial. (I had only one hunger pang, right before pushing, and afterward I was suddenly hungry.) I did change my positions, particularly when I felt that the pains didn’t recede all the way in between contractions, but it surprised me to find that I didn’t want to move DURING contractions - I felt I had to focus on breathing deeply and that what helped the most tremendously was the release on the exhale.

Once we were finally moved to a delivery room, the need to change my position reached its peak. This was the only moment when I felt that I would have liked a doula’s advice on what would be best, but once I finally made my choice, it was clear that I found the knowledge in myself. I ended up kneeling on the bed and leaning forward over the raised head of the bed, basically a modified all-fours with my weight resting on my forearms. I felt the difference immediately - I did it because I was trying to relieve the pain in between contractions, but what it also did was allow the contractions to become much deeper and more effective (and I’m sure using gravity helped to move the baby further down). A disadvantage was that my legs got tired quickly, but for a good while it was worth it.

Before labor, I had a vague worry that I wouldn’t feel ‘attended to’ enough during labor, but the truth of it was, for 98% of the time, I didn’t want anyone but Geoffrey, and whatever their reason, the staff generally left us alone. However, I had had a fetal monitor against my belly (held by a belly band) from the start, and after a while the staff noticed that the machine wasn’t able to fully record while I was bending forward as I was. Though the baby’s heartbeat had been rock-solid during the entire time, I was told that I couldn’t stay in the all-fours position. Many of the staff were very kind, but the nurse assigned to our room had an unfortunate dictatorial mien, and so when she told me that if they couldn’t get the fetal heartbeat to be fully recorded they’d have to attach an electrode to the baby’s head and we didn’t want that, it sounded like a threat. I didn’t really feel finished with the all-fours position, but I decided to try standing again.

While standing I needed to bend over, so she told Geoffrey to hold the monitor tight to my belly so it would record more clearly. This worked for a little while, but then I needed another change. I got back onto my left side, but this time had Geoffrey hold up my top leg, and this felt right - I appreciated being able to again rest completely in between.

At this point, at 1 PM, the doctor moved me onto my back briefly to check my progress. I steeled myself to hear that I’d only progressed a small amount, so that I would feel I could continue strongly if it was indeed the case, but I was thrilled to hear instead, “8 cm”. I felt a great deal of unintentional encouragement from the staff because they were so pleased and surprised that I was progressing so quickly and steadily.

Back in side-lying, I think I went through “transition”, but I’m honestly not sure. I began to be hit with the most amazing, powerful, overwhelming feeling to push, and I literally had not the power to resist it. I didn’t know that I SHOULD be resisting it until the nurse, hearing my shuddering groan, asked, “you’re not pushing are you? Don’t push yet - you’re not fully dilated, and that will make the cervix harden again.” But I really felt caught in these urgent waves, and though I tried incredibly hard to keep them from winning, it really was a close-to-orgasmic feeling. I wasn’t having much luck against them, because the deep breathing I had been staunchly relying on immediately brought on the pushing urge, but I didn’t know what else to do. Finally someone (I thought it was the doctor but afterward Geoffrey told me that it was the dictatorial nurse, so I was even more grateful!) told me to pant instead, saying “hah, hah, hah”. This gave me a tool that I could work with, and though I couldn’t stop all of the urges, I relaxed and did much better.

At about 2 PM, the doctor checked me for the final time, saying triumphantly, “fully dilated!” What a relief to hear. I had thought to continue pushing in side-lying, but the doctor suggested a partially reclined position, with Geoffrey holding one leg, the doctor holding the other, and me holding underneath my thighs and contracting into a C-curved sit-up-type position. She was a great coach through this final stage, and I fed off of her crackling energy, her strident voice issuing commands: “Take a deep breath and hold it, then push push PUSH...we’re going to do this three times per contraction...when you run out of breath take another quick inhale and push again...try to relax your legs...and up up UP! Contract contract CONTRACT!!...and rest.” Her wisdom was infallible except for one moment when she wanted me to start pushing, but I muttered “Wait, it’s coming” - I didn’t want to push without the help of the contraction.

Pushing was difficult, and I found it very hard to keep holding my breath...somehow I had pictured exhaling while bearing down. And though it sounded easy when Deb said it, because of holding the breath it was REALLY hard not to push with my face! Trying to relax my face and legs while gripping with my arms and contracting hard with my belly took everything I had. (And I did pretty well, but still a day later I noticed some broken blood vessels in my right eye.) I only had to push through about 5 or 6 contractions, which was mercifully short but felt quite long enough to me! I can imagine how easy it would be to lose strength and confidence if the pushing goes on for a very long time. While cheering me on, the doctor was working inside me somehow, I imagine helping the baby past landmarks like the pubic bone and lip of the cervix, which was quite an uncomfortable feeling. Suddenly she said, “Look!!”, and I felt an instant of annoyance as I felt completely caught up in what I still had to do, but I was glad I had obeyed when I pushed aside my bunched-up gown and saw my baby’s head appear, facing me (I knew it - according to the previous night’s calculations, it WAS a posterior position!). What an incredible sight! A small push and the shoulders were out, then another and the whole baby.

2:18 PM and my baby was here - only 11 hours of labor for a first baby, and I had made it without any pain medication (they had offered an epidural two or three times - each time I grunted, “Not now”). I felt a heady mixture of thankfulness for my good fortune and a profound sense of accomplishment. I think I had two small tears which the doctor calmly repaired after the placenta was delivered (about 5 minutes after), but though the idea of an episiotomy or tearing had previously been one of the most distressing ideas to me, it just didn’t seem to matter.

They laid my baby on my chest for a moment, all covered in the fluids I’d been feeling all day, and it was the best moment ever. Then the pediatrician/neonatologist took the baby to the corner to get cleaned up and checked, while the doctor took care of me. I heard the doctor ask my husband, “Did you know what you were having?” He replied that we had been told it was a boy. Someone walked over to check again, and then said, “Actually no, it’s a girl.” The hospital’s finest radiologist and top-of-the-line sonogram equipment got it wrong!! My husband told me later that as the labor was starting, he got quiet and silently asked two questions: 1) what does my wife need from me, and 2) what does my son need from me? The feeling he got was that his son needed him to hold her and tell her she’s a good girl. He decided not to tell me about it, but thought that it was very interesting, and so he felt an immediate sense of rightness when they told us about our daughter. We were both thrilled; luckily we had chosen both a boy and girl name early in the pregnancy, so she was immediately Myra.

We waited as they finished getting her ready, and Geoffrey stood there and sang to her as they worked. Gradually all the staff members left the room until we were alone together, with our daughter in the corner, cleaned up and ready for us. It was a very odd feeling - we wanted desperately to get our hands on her and we considered just going over and picking her up, but it felt like there would be an uproar and we didn’t want to spoil the lovely atmosphere. Eventually they returned, and I got to hold her again, and she began to try to nurse, which was very moving. A neonatologist came and explained to us that they wanted to take her to the neonatal ICU to make sure she was okay; Geoffrey went with her. It was sad to see her have to go away so soon, but we really felt surrendered to whatever they needed to do to make her strong.

She had a week in the neonatal ICU, during which she got stronger and stronger, and during which I got very valuable experience in caring for my little girl from the excellent NICU nurses at Roosevelt. She came home on Sunday August 10, and now we are basking in the joy of her presence!