Stella’s Birth Story
Stella was breech from weeks 34 to 37, and for those three weeks, I prepared myself, mentally and emotionally, for another c-section. Though I chose not to do an External Cephalic Version (ECV) with Alice, I decided to do it this time around. I had to know that I’d done everything I could to get Stella to flip. It didn’t work (and it hurt like a bitch). The next day, we did the ironing board trick. We took our ironing board, propped it on the couch and I lay down on it, upside down, for 15 minutes. Then came an ultrasound showing that Stella had decided head-down was best, after all. I held my breath in the weeks leading up to her birth, afraid that she would flip again. I’m convinced the ironing board trick was the clincher, though the OB was skeptical when I told her so. (The midwives, of course, totally believed me!)
My labor started on Friday night, three days before Stella’s due date. I was in a bit of denial for a long time, though. I couldn’t believe that I was really in labor, that I would be getting the natural birth that I wanted. I was excited and anxious and felt like I was holding the biggest secret in the world. My back hurt and I was feeling some mild cramping. I mentioned to Twitter that I thought maybe I was in early labor but I wasn’t very sure. The next morning, Saturday, my back still hurt and my cramping had become contractions, though mild and sporadic. I was prepared for the possibility that absolutely nothing could happen, or everything could happen. I had the morning to myself, as Henry had taken Alice out for a few hours. I bustled around the apartment, doing laundry and some cleaning. By the time Henry and Alice returned, my contractions were heavier and more regular, to the point where I had stop what I was doing to focus on the contraction. Even then, I had a hard time voicing out loud to Henry that I was in labor. Maybe. I was still saying “maybe” at this point. We decided to start timing the contractions, but I had a hard time telling where one contraction ended and the next began, so I gave up. I stopped saying “maybe.”
I started a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, for the nurses at the hospital. By this point, it was late afternoon and I found myself leaning on the kitchen counter when I felt a contraction coming on, my face resting on my crossed arms. I was also looking for relief for the relentless back pain. Around 5pm, we decided to call my mother and tell her to come over– she was coming from Albany, 2 hours away. We put in a call to my father to let him know that I was in labor but nothing much was happening yet. When Henry described my condition to my father, who has six children, he was skeptical and suggested that we should be at the hospital at this point. Little did we know…
We ended up meeting my mother at the hospital. It was about 7pm when we decided to go to the hospital. We called our doula, Katherine, and had her meet us there as well. We quickly gave Alice some dinner before leaving, and took her along to the hospital with us. Before leaving, I shoved the bowl of cookie batter into the fridge. The cookies never made it to the nurses! (Though I did drop off a tin of mandel bread that I made after Stella’s birth, so there.)
Once at the hospital, I was checked and told that I was only one centimeter. We had to decide whether to stay or leave, which we were doing when my mother arrived. We decided to leave, and get dinner at our favorite restaurant, the Hope + Olive. On our way there, I suddenly realized that I didn’t want to be in public, that I wanted to labor at home and not have to be uncomfortable at a restaurant. I think I knew, deep down, that I was progressing quickly, that birth was imminent. So, we headed back to the apartment and ordered take-out from the H+O instead. I was encouraged to eat and I took a few bites of my salad, like a good girl, but promptly threw everything up. I continued to throw up for the next hour or so. In hindsight, I was going through transition, though none of us realized it at the time. Everyone wanted me to lie down and rest, and conserve my energy but I couldn’t lie in bed. The pain of the contractions and my back (my god, my back!!) was too much. I finally took a soak in a hot bath and dozed off for I don’t know how long, though it didn’t do much to ease the pain.
In the birthing class I took when I was pregnant with Alice, and in discussions with Katherine, I had guessed that my coping mechanism would be movement and I was right. I felt much better when I was moving and walking around. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t lie down. After eating, Katherine decided to go home and get some rest. It was about 9pm at this point. Alice was in bed, and we were settling in for the night, or so we thought.
My mother, who was watching the ballgame, and also observing me, began to suggest that we go back to the hospital. It was 11 or 11:30 at this point, and I was in a lot of pain. Later, my mother would say that it was the cursing that tipped her off, that when I started cursing , it was definitely time to go to the hospital! (Note: I do not remember cursing at all!)
Henry and I left for the short drive to the hospital. The bumpy ride was a relief to my poor back, short-lived as it was–both the ride and the pain relief, that is. As soon as we arrived, I forced myself out of the car and threw up again, in the parking lot. We made our way up to L&D. I was moaning and carrying on and hollering about my back pain. The nurses had me lie down in the bed, so they could put on the monitors and check the baby’s heart rate. After the initial check, they would use a telemetry monitor so that I could have freedom of movement during labor but we never got that far. It was the most uncomfortable part of my labor thus far, having to be in that bed and I started hollering to be allowed to stand up– hollering and whining and generally acting like a baby and begging for someone to make the pain in my back go away. I believe my exact words were, “MAKE IT GO AWAY!” Finally, the nurses relented and helped me off the bed. As they were adjusting my monitors after I got out of bed, my water broke. This made me yell “MY WATER BROKE.” One of the nurses said “what did she say?” I yelled again, “MY WATER BROKE.” With that, they all looked down at the floor, where, indeed, I was standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid. This sent everyone into a frenzy. All the while, I had been begging to be allowed to go to the bathroom and finally, at this point, I was escorted to the bathroom. My sweatpants, soaking wet, came off and I sat on the toilet. For what, I don’t know. I really don’t. I just really wanted to sit on the toilet. Women in labor are weird, what can I tell you?
The midwife wanted to check me at this point, and asked if she could. I agreed, a little worried that I would only be 2 centimeters or something crazy like that. I couldn’t believe my ears when the midwife said that I was at 9. 9?! How could I be at 9?! It had only been four hours since I was checked last and found to be at 1! Well, that explained the intense and unbearable pain. I didn’t have to be told to push! I was ready to go. I don’t remember when Katherine showed up but she was there as I propped myself up on all fours on the hospital bed, facing the mattress and gripping the top of it, willing this baby to GET OUT OF ME. I sent telepathic messages to Stella, strongly urging her to get the hell out. For 30 minutes, I pushed and screamed and grunted and generally behaved like an animal, pissed off that her head kept going in and out, which I could feel since I hadn’t taken any drugs. Henry and Katherine were a tag-team, relaying information to me from the midwife and nurses, since I wasn’t facing them and didn’t know what they were saying to me. Katherine fed me ice chips (best. thing. ever.) and Henry put cold compresses on my back.
Finally, I felt that “ring of fire,” and felt Stella’s head emerge. I heaved a huge sign of relief. Once her head came out, the pain all but stopped and the rest of her came out with a few more pushes. Another sigh of relief and I collapsed on the bed, my hard work over. She was born just over an hour after arriving at the hospital, so my mother definitely called that one!
When Stella came out, my first question, I think, was “Is the baby okay?,” followed by “Is it a boy or a girl?” I thought all along that I was having a boy, and I was excited but truth be told, when I found out it was a girl, I was a little relieved, as I thought about the mounds and mounds of girls’ clothing that we have packed away under Alice’s crib and our bed. Stella was placed on my belly after Henry cut the cord. I held Stella as we waited for the placenta to be birthed. I was given a shot of pitocin to help the placenta come out, and to control the bleeding, since apparently I was bleeding a lot. I had to put my feet up in stirrups while being stitched up, since I tore a bit. It was the second most uncomfortable part of the birth, having to lie there with my feet up in the air. I don’t know how women give birth like that!
My older sister, who also had a VBAC, had told me that “it hurts and then it’s over.” I was skeptical at the time but it’s true! It hurts, and then it’s over! And you have a baby in your arms to show for it! I will forever be in awe at my own strength and the primal nature of natural, undrugged birth. At this point, 6 weeks later, I’ve forgotten the pain. I’m not kidding you, dear reader. Somehow, the intense, unbearable pain becomes not even a memory. It ceases to exist in your mind. It’s a great evolutionary ploy and it works!
