by Kristen M.
I was three days shy of my due date and ready to pop. My back hurt, I was exhausted and my nesting instincts were maxing out. So, I woke up that day and told my husband we were going to spend the day walking. I was determined to move things along. We walked to some stores and met friends for brunch, enjoying a relaxing, but active day.
That evening we were watching the Yankees playoff game, which was running into extra innings. At 12:30 a.m. I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore so I headed off to bed. About 15 minutes later, just as I was dozing off, I was jolted awake with a crampy feeling in my abdomen. I believe it was at the exact moment that Derek Jeter broke his ankle that my contractions began.
I went into the living room and announced, "Something is happening." My husband came into the bedroom, and we sat on the bed quietly paying attention to these new sensations and wondering if this was it. Sure enough, the pain moved quickly to my back, and I was certain our little guy was ready to start his journey.
I called our midwife to tell her my contractions were five minutes apart. She encouraged me to run a warm bath and then, if things slowed down, take a nap. Really? I thought she sounded crazy—a nap! But, I gave it shot.
My husband ran the bath, dimmed the lights, put on music and got the HypnoBirthing (learn more about HypnoBirthing) script ready. We had practiced for months, and this was the big night. I had read somewhere that it helps to keep your eyes open to avoid internalizing the pain. So, I quietly breathed through the contractions focusing on a spot on the wall in front of me. I told myself, "These are just sensations; I'm interpreting them as painful."
As he began reading the script, the contractions seemed to be coming extremely fast. We timed them and found they were two minutes apart. I was thinking to myself, "If this is early labor, I'm in trouble later!" I was wondering if my choice to labor in a hospital birthing center drug-free was the right one after all.
I had signed up my mother to be my doula, and she was on her way to my apartment when we called the midwife and said we would be heading to the hospital. So, I jumped in the car with my parents and we headed across town. I never hated my dad's hybrid SUV more than that night. I quietly breathed through contractions staring at a spot on the door, but wanting to curse every bump and traffic light we hit. Near the hospital, a number of one-way streets made it seem like the longest journey of my life.
I entered the hospital and headed to triage, stopping every two minutes to breathe through a contraction. When I arrived, my midwife told me to come on back. I said I needed a minute to get through the contraction I was having. She looked at me and said, "You don't look like you're having a contraction." Really?
However, once they hooked me up to the monitors, they could see that I was in active labor, and they broke my water, which intensified things a bit more. But the little guy didn't seem to appreciate the intense contractions (or he was napping through them) because his heart rate was low. They gave me a bag of sugar water and closely watched to see if it would rise.
In that moment, I wondered if I would be able to have the birth I wanted or if this would soon turn into a frenzy of activity. I'm almost certain that if I had been in another place with another practitioner that may have happened, but my midwife carefully monitored me and rubbed my back, confident that things would take a turn for the best, and they did, just as I felt the need to push.
Pushing, for me, felt like gravity was forcing my whole body downward. The worst part of this was that I was in triage alone. My husband was doing the paperwork, and my midwife was making sure everything was in order to get me down to the birthing center. My mom wasn't allowed back because it was such a tiny area. A back rub would have been nice at that point! But soon enough my midwife appeared, and we headed down a floor to the birthing center.
When we arrived, I immediately felt that I needed to push. Pushing was a relief, because I felt like I could finally do something. My husband put on some music and held my hand as I worked hard.
After about an hour, I needed an episiotomy because I wasn't naturally tearing. When my midwife said that, I knew it was necessary. No drugs, no topical numbing, just scissors. It wasn't pleasant, but there was so much sensation down there already, and I knew I was getting so close, so I grinned and bore it, and a few minutes later at 6:47 a.m., my beautiful baby boy arrived weighing 6 pounds, 13 ounces. Pain, what pain?