LM’s Birth Story – Part Two

Today I’m sharing LM’s birth novel story. You can read Part One here.

Somewhere around 11:30, my awesome midwife came in. She said we would see how things went for the next 12 hours. She said I should walk and do everything I could to really get things moving. She was cautiously optimistic about my chances for a successful VBAC. Then, she said she wanted to check the baby, to confirm he was head down.

As she reclined the bed back, LM’s heart rate dropped. Another nurse came rushing in and things got serious fast. The midwife and two nurses went into action – they had me turn over to my side (they thought he might be laying on his cord), put an oxygen mask on me and got ready to start an IV.

My husband and doula were behind me, so I couldn’t see their faces. I was terrified. My doula kept reminding me to breathe. The midwife tried to keep the mood light by singing (the tune was Paul Simon’s “Love Me Like a Rock,” which she said was my baby’s song). I worked hard to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy.

It took three attempts to get the IV in (my veins are great, but the nurse kept rolling them). That poking and prodding did nothing to help me relax. A second nurse was finally able to get the IV in, and LM’s heart rate was slowly improving.

Around midnight, after his heart rate was stabilized, the midwife decided to do an exam to see how dilated I was. She said I was about 3cm dilated. I fought back the tears as I realized I still had a LONG way to go. My midwife left saying that we’d give it a go and see what my body does.

The nurse told us we were waiting on a labor & delivery room that was close to the operating room, in case I needed an emergency c-section. That did little to increase my confidence.

My doula and I went into the bathroom for a little privacy (triage doesn’t provide very much of that). She gave me an awesome pep talk. She reminded me that the heart deceleration was quickly remedied when I got off my back, and that LM was not in danger. I could tell she was confident that my body would do what was needed, and her confidence was contagious.

As I came out of the bathroom, there was someone who looked vaguely familiar waiting to talk to me. She proceeded to give me a stern lecture.

“As I told you before, we call it a ‘trial of labor,’ because that’s what this is – a trial.” (In my head I’m thinking, “She told me before – who is this lady?!”)

“I’m going to give you eight hours and then we are going to do a c-section. You are only three centimeters dilated, so you really have a long way to go. But, I don’t want you off the monitors at all. No walking the halls or anything. And, let me tell you, if he has one more heart deceleration like that, I’m taking you straight in for an emergency c-section!”

At this point, I realized she was one of the OBs in my practice, but I had only met her once – at the very beginning of my pregnancy. (The general rule with my practice is, midwives do the vaginal deliveries and OBs do the surgical deliveries, and there is always one of each of them at the hospital.)

She went on. “I know you don’t want a c-section cause you have a toddler to chase around – I get it. I have 3-year-old triplets. But, it’s just not worth risking his life. Oh, and let me tell you, if the pain gets bad, you need to get an epidural. Cause if I have to rush you in for an emergency c-section and you don’t already have an epidural, I’ll have to use general anesthesia and you’ll be asleep for the birth and your husband won’t be allowed in the room. Are we all on the same page?”

Now, I realize that doesn’t sound very much like a pep talk, and I certainly wouldn’t advise giving such a lecture to a laboring woman. But, it really fired me up! Her attempt to manipulate, discourage and scare me really ticked me off, and I couldn’t wait to prove her wrong!

Shortly after her lecture, my room was finally available. As the nurse pushed me in the wheel chair, I started praying. I asked for wisdom and clarity. I rebuked fear and anxiety. And, the most amazing sense of peace just washed over me. I can’t remember another time in my life I felt closer to God.

We got to my room about 12:30, and the nurse (ignoring the OBs orders) told me I could stay off the monitors until 1:00. I went to the bathroom and moved around the room a bit. I was so calm and relaxed, despite the growing intensity of my contractions.

When it was time to go back on the monitors, I got in a side-lying position in the bed. I began to use all the relaxation and visualization techniques I learned in both my Bradley and Hypnobirthing classes. The contractions were really intense, but I discovered I was able to remain in my “happy place” if I was still and quiet when a contraction started.

The scene in that room was amazing. The lights were dim. Hubby had made a fantastic labor “play list,” and the music was so relaxing. We had a small fan blowing a nice breeze on my face. Derek put a framed picture of AE on the table beside me, so when I occasionally opened my eyes, I saw her smiling face.

Derek and my doula were both wonderful at helping me stay physically relaxed. For about 90 minutes, I was silent, except for the occasional whispered utterance of the words “ice chips.” I was in “birthland,” as my doula calls it. Focused. Unwilling to give even a drop of energy to fear, anxiety or even complaints about the pain. I was devoting everything in me to the process.

About 2:30am, I told my doula I thought it was time to push. She later told me she was so surprised, I had been so quiet, so still – how could I be in transition already. Derek was waiting for more of the signposts they had mentioned in the Bradley class. I was a stealth birther!

The midwife came in to check me. Sure enough, I was 8 – 9 centimeters dilated! We all celebrated – even the nurse was happy for me. I took a moment to appreciate that I no longer needed to fear that c-section, my boy would soon be in my arms.

The midwife had me stand at the side of the bed, to get gravity’s assistance with the final stage. I will say, that 30 minutes of standing was tough work. I kept circling my hips, but my legs were shaking with each contraction.

By 3am, I was back in the bed and pushing. I’m so grateful for my awesome midwife. She was so empowering. She said, “I’m not going to tell you when or how long to push. Listen to your body. You will know what to do.”

After about 35 minutes of pushing, LM’s head emerged. The midwife unwrapped his “umbilical cord necklace” (as she called it), and then she said something I will never forget. Something that forever changed me. “Reach down and catch your baby!”

I grabbed him as I gave a final push. It. Was. Amazing. I pulled him to my chest. “I did it! I did it!” I exclaimed over and over as I marveled at his beauty. I spoke prayers of thanksgiving over my sweet boy as we snuggled.

From my womb, to my hands, to my chest. Pure bliss. Those are the words I use to describe my natural VBAC.