With Regards To Labor and Delivery

I just wanted to add something or, rather, emphasize something with regards to my labor and delivery story from a few days ago. Laboring at home for as long as possible was the best thing I ever did.
Right up until the moment I got in the car to go to the hospital, I was folding laundry, packing a hospital bag for my DH, playing with my son, checking my e-mail, blogging, and watching videos online that my sister was trying to entertain me with. It was not a panicked, clinical experience with people standing over me and monitoring me. It was almost enjoyable-- except for the pain. I was able to get into whatever positions I wanted to get through contractions. I could move around at will from room to room. I could eat and drink, and I did, knowing that I wouldn't be able to until after I had the baby and then only at the next hospital mealtime.
Maybe I was only able to do this because my contractions did not get really bad until the very end, but I have no point of comparison since I didn't go into labor naturally last time so I don't know what it's like otherwise.
Maybe I said all this already. But it makes me so happy to think about it.

I'm Back With A Baby - My Labor and Delivery Story

For those of you who have been waiting with baited breath since my last blog posting, I apologize for nearly two week's delay. I could blame it on new motherhood, but that would be stretching the truth by about three days and I have about twelve days to account for. I have a very good excuse for the last four days which I'll share in another post.

When you last saw me, I was having contractions at home. They started in the morning after I noticed bloody show overnight. They were light and not really painful. DH had an exam in the afternoon and I took at walk and picked up DS from nursery, after which I went out for a falaffel and then stopped by the flower shop on the way home to pick up a thank-you gift for our friends who helped us out when I had that fever the week before. I even ran into them at the top of the street and they didn't notice anything. I didn't say anything.

Contractions started coming harder later in the afternoon. I would have to pause between blogging or cleaning or whatever I was doing, let it pass, and then go on. DS woke up and was climbing all over me. My sister arrived eventually and still I didn't want to go to the hospital, even though I knew (though I wasn't reporting to the waiting parties) that according to the five-minute rule, I should have gone already.

Laboring at home was the best thing I could have done. I wasn't being monitored or checked constantly. Nobody was holding me down or watching me or sticking needles in my arm. Nothing was strapped to me. I found a position or two that was ideal for waiting out contractions (on my hands and knees on the couch with my head on the armrest.) It was all very calm and, though I wouldn't quite call it pleasant, I can say that it was ideal conditions.

The contractions started getting bad and sweetly and without pressure, DH inquired when we would be leaving for the hospital. He was nervous that he'd have to do the job himself. I finally allowed him to convince me to leave the house when my water broke.

And then came the hardest part-- emotionally-- of the whole experience. I had to say goodbye to DS who I was seeing for the last time as an only child. Even thinking about it now is difficult. Fortunately, he had fallen fast asleep and didn't know that I spent more than a few moments lying beside him, stroking his hair, and apologizing. I know, I know, giving him a sibling is the best gift of all etc etc but it was still really tough on me. I knew that things were about to change forever. I'm not so good with change.

We ended up going to a different hospital than I had planned on since it was easier to walk to from our house and we wanted access. It's the same hospital where I gave birth to my son (after torturous procedures and interventions) nearly two years ago. It's not that the staff was bad. It's just that I had a bit of an emergency situation that time and it resulted in a very difficult birth.

I had awful contractions after that, and being in the car was pure torture. It's hard to relax into a contraction when you're strapped in to a bucket seat. Still, I was cautioning DH all the while to drive more carefully. The hospital is only 5 minutes away and though I could feel that the time to start pushing was near, I kept the news from him because he was already really nervous. He parked the car while an attendant helped me into a wheelchair and took a few details from me. I was going to refuse the chair but then I realized I had to get upstairs fast because the baby was on its way. DH arrived and we took off at a madcap down the hallway and up the elevator.

I was greeted at the labor ward by a midwife who made me get on a bed and strapped a monitor across my belly despite my protests. "We have to know how the baby is doing" she said. I hate that. The baby was on its way out one way or the other. In the meantime I was expected to lie obediently in whatever positions they commanded of me? There was no way. Honestly, there are times in life it's okay to not be cooperative. Oh, and then they did that awful thing where they check how dilated you are. I HATE IT. There were only two times I screamed during the entire process, and checking my cervix was one of them. It hurts and also just plain bothers me more than any other thing they do. Apparently I have a very very long canal and they need to dig right in there to get at it. I refused it all through the other checks in my pregnancy. It also bothers me even now-- just thinking about it makes me cringe.

I was four centimetres. FOUR? FOUR? No way I was only four.

When they finally got me into the delivery room, I did what I never intended to do: I climbed up on the bed and lay on my back. And by the way, I was fully dialated. Ten beautiful centimetres. I don't remember them checking me at that point. Maybe they just had a glance and could see... I don't know. Anyway, by that point there was no holding back.

Oh yes, that was after they insisted on replacing my clothes with a hospital gown, which I suppose I should be grateful for in terms of laundry, but I had no interest in at the time. The reason I was on my back is that it's just the position I ended up in and I was in too much pain to change it at that moment. Also, I was comfortable. Also, I knew the baby was on it's way out. I could feel it. It was all very intense.

At some point, and I didn't realize this until later on, the pain turned to tension. Every muscle in my body was coiled up. Whenever the midwife wanted me to change position even a little bit-- shift up, shift down, move my legs, hold my knees, whatever, it's not that I couldn't do it, but it took enormous effort to realign any muscle in my body at all. It's like they were melted in position. Even when DH or the midwife tried shifting me just a little, I protested. The biggest movement I made was some shifting and once I flipped over on my side, which is apparently a preferred position over the supine one. Talking was also really hard. I mostly used hand motions or whispered to DH who then translated to the midwife. The only motion I was happy to consent to was pushing.

This tension had been building with every contraction to the point that I couldn't relax in between contractions. I needed more time than I had. But that was somehow okay. Because like I said, what I was feeling wasn't exactly pain. I wasn't feeling comfortable, but it was way better to be like this than having regular contractions. The only problem was that it was very difficult for me to tell when it was time to push. So I just guessed.

The mood in the room, if I remember correctly, was pretty relaxed. I had chosen what they call the 'natural birthing room,' which is basically called that because it contains a radio, a shower stall, and a hippie-style floor lamp. This is in contrast with the 'natural birthing room' in the hospital I originally inteded to go to, which contained a jacuzzi, a neat-looking purple bed, wood panelling, and who knows what else.
I guess I guessed well, because the midwife kept telling me that things were progressing. I can see the top of the head. I can see the top of the head. It's coming, just a few more pushes... I believed her and also my husband when they said these things, but I was getting really tired. I just wanted to wrap it up for the evening and come back the next day to try some more. I pushed for twice as long in my last birth. I guess that God gives you strength for what you need when you need it.

I had my husband on one side and the midwife on the other (and yest, a monitor on my belly but that stopped bothering me after a little while) And when they kept telling me it was just one or two more pushes away and then I heaved one or two more pushes and it didn't come out, I started to get really tired. But then I decided that I really could be working a little harder-- not that it was any picnic up until that point, but I hadn't given it my abesolute all until then. Not the of medal-winning, baby delivering all that maybe was required.

So I geared up, got ready to give it everything I had, and screamed. The stupid midwife had her fingers in there and was massaging oil around. Now, I know that the midwife is supposed to do that, and it's supposed to help ease the baby out and prevent tearing, but I'll say something here that might shock and appal you: I would prefer the pain of tearing over having her fingers in there. Really and truly. Okay, really and truly as long as it's not a third degree tear. But she could have warned me. Or at least asked me. You don't just stick your fingers up someone's hoo-hoo without warning. I don't care what the circumstances are. I HATE HATE HATE that feeling. It makes me crazy. I screamed for her to stop but she said something about her having to do it so I had DH (DEAR, DEAR Husband) explain to her that I really meant it. Also, all the rubbing and the horrible disturbance it caused me (again, I shudder to think of it) distracted me from the business of birthing. I couldn't push while she was doing that. I couldn't at all. It was very counter productive. I was ready to kick her in the face. But I couldn't move my legs on my own and I don't think she would have happily helped me to do it. If any readers feel the same way about this, I would be happy to know that I'm not alone here.

To give her credit, this is a perfectly normal procedure for midwife to be doing and I'm probably the first person ever ever to tell her to stop. In fact, I was probably the first person in the hospital ever to be uncooperative during labor, so it stands to reason that she was doing what she was doing without any guilty feelings at all. She was actually pretty nice and respectful and definitely knew what she was doing. But at that moment, I hated her.

With that crisis over, I geared up once again for the Big Push. I pushed once, I pushed twice, I though to myself, 'push harder, let's get this over with!' and I gave it another huge push-- then I heard 'stop pushing!' I cant! I couldn't stop pushing remember, my body wasn't entirely in my controll. But it was all okay. A couple of seconds later I heard a cry and saw the midwife pulling the baby out and placing her on my chest.

I didn't have this pleasure with the birth of DS. His cominng-out was a lot more hectic and they took him straight to get weighed and measured and wrapped. I did get to hold him and feed him before they took him off to the nursery, but it wasn't immediate contact.

The first thing I noticed was how huge and heavy she felt, all curled up on my chest. To tell the truth, at that moment I was so weak that I don't think I would have been able to support a cup of coffee with my bare hands but I had a bed underneath me and holding me up so I was able to handle this little baby girl. I put my arm on her. She felt nice. I liked her. I got to hold her that way for a little bit and then they took her to clean and wrap her up. The midwife asked if I wanted to hold her again, but I told her that I didn't think I could.

It was time to deliver the placenta. I said no way. I can not push one more single thing out of me today. Let's do it tomorrow. But the midwife gave a big heave on my stomach (again, I wanted to slap her. Doesn't she know what I've just been through?) and with a few gentle pushes, I was able to get the thing out of me. They spread it out on the cart to get a look at it. It didn't look to me like you could tell anything from it, but what do I know?

At that point, I was shaking so hard I felt like I was riding a lawnmower. I was assured by various personel wandering through my room at that point that it was completely normal and not to worry. So I didn't worry but I did continue to shake. I also asked to be covered with a sheet. Just because I finished giving birth doesn't mean I want to sit around with my legs open for all the world to see. I don't care if they're doctors.

I can't remember if cutting the cord came before or after delivering the placenta. DH wanted to do it but I think he was also a bit weak and couldn't get a good grip on it with the scissors so he declined.

And then came the stitching up. I had a second degree tear. Whatever. It was superficial she said. Whatever. It was over. I consulted my watch. The whole thing, from the time of my arrival at the hospital, had taken under two hours. Under and hour forty-five. The baby had done her part, I had done mine, DH and midwife had done theirs. We had done well. We have a new daughter.

Contractions?

I don't know about this whole contraction business. I mean, I seem to be able to actually set them off by standing up from a seated position or straightening up from a bent position. But they feel like contractions, allright. I just didn't think I would be able to manipulate them like this.

They're currently very random in frequency and they're only a few seconds long each. Say, 10-15.

Progressing

Bloody show last night. And now what I was thinking of as 'silent' contractions from yesterday becoming real, non ambiguous ones today. I'm pretty sure. Things seem to be moving right along.

This whole nesting thing I went through last pregnancy doesn't seem to be happening this time, beyond the need I feel to just straighten things up. But then again, my house is rather messy right now. Last time at 38 weeks I was scrubbing the walls.

Oop. There goes another mild contraction. Damn. That was less than 5 minutes apart. DH is about to sit down for an exam. Maybe I should arrange for someone else to pick up DS from nursery.

Off With My Rings

With apologies to my husband, I took off my wedding rings today. I usually don't like to take them off at all and leave them at home. I feel that they are safest when they are on my fingers. But lately I haven't been able to get them off and they're starting to irritate my fingers and leave indentations where the swelling has gotten to be too much. So this morning I realized I had just enough squeeze space to slip them off, and that's what I did with a touch of hand cream for lubrication. It's been a few hours but the indentation is still there.

I was worried that in a worst case scenario my fingers would really really swell or else I'd have to go to the hospital for some procedure and then it would really be a problem. I think I wore them through my last birth. I remember having difficulty removing them only towards the end of the pregnancy but even then it wasn't so bad.

DH made fun of me for apologizing to him over taking them off. He is not sentimental about things like this (though I'm sure he's glad I wear them on a regular basis.)

Biding My Time 'till Baby

Despite certain discomforts (big belly, big feet, painful cheek), I am not in any rush for this baby to come out. I want it to come at the right time, in a natural way. Because of the nightmare with my last baby-- he was induced and it was horrible-- I don't care if I go all the way to 42 weeks. I just want it to happen naturally. Also, I want to know what the experience of having a baby feels like without all the added drugs and tubes and monitors. I want to know how I handle it. Will I break down and ask for an epidural like I did last time after several hours of non-retreating pain due to the artificially introduced hormones? Will the baby come quick and easy? I want to know. But I don't want to know until the baby is ready to come out. I always harbor some sense of guilt that we pulled DS out before he was ready to go. I am reconciled to the fact that he may have been in distress and that it was the best way to go at the time, but there are always the vestiges of heart over mind to deal with.

Third Trimester Waiting Game

The waiting game has begun. I'm not technically in the zone yet for giving birth-- that will come next week. But from this point forth, if the baby wanted out then nobody would try to stop it. I packed my bag. I'm making backup and more backup plans for child care while I'm in the hospital. And I'm waiting. I never actually went into labor last time because I was induced. On one hand, I want a quick labor like every normal person. On the other hand, I want a few hours warning so that I can take care of affairs before going to the hospital. There are some things you just can't do until the last minute.

Hospital Bag

I packed my hospital bag last night. I'm not going to carry it around with me everywhere. But at least if I don't leave for the hospital from home I won't have to count on anyone finding me the right stuff and bringing it to me. I made sure to take an excess of underwear. That's what I was missing last time. I must have gone through five pairs-- just in labor!! I had a long labor, though. Counting on a shorter one this time with my 2nd.
I also packed wet wipes because they were really stingy with them in the last hospital I went to. Even today I can't use just one or two wet wipes to clean my son's bum. I mean, it depends on the situation, but one or two just doesn't cut it. I had to buy them from the hospital gift shop last time just to maintain some sanity.
I packed snacks because they don't let you eat past a certain point in labor. But if I'm there for a while I totally plan on sneaking in food while nobody's looking. How people go through long labors without eating is a mystery to me. The nurse even tried to give me an enema last time but I flat-out refused. I know some women told me they wished they'd had one because they couldn't poop afterwords but that wasn't a problem for me and once I heard the words 'turn over', I was pretty darn suspicious about what they were planning on doing. Ech. The thought of it makes my stomach squirm. Ech.
I packed a book. I actually did a lot of reading last time while waiting for my contractions to pick up speed. Also I read a lot afterwords in between feedings and things.
I don't think I packed anything else terribly unusual-- a bottle of water, gum, stuff... I did't pack any stuff for baby because I figure someone will just bring it over for me when I need it. Besides, it's hot. The baby can go home in a diaper in this weather (spoken like a true non-newbie mom...)

More on my OB visit

I don't remember the last time I got excited about any development in my pregnancy. Usually it's just 'HOW MUCH weight did you say I gained??" or "you want to do WHICH test? And WHY?" But last night when the OB told me that the baby is turned around-- sitting on it's little fetus head in my belly-- I got happy. Dunno why. I guess it might be because I was concerned for some reason (don't pregnant women always find reason to be concerned) that the baby was breach. And why? Because I was feeling kicking from both sides of my belly, and I thought that maybe the baby was horizontal. Logical? No. Normal behavior? Yes. Other than that, most of my concerns during this 2nd pregnancy have revolved around the new one's relationship with my DS and if I'll even be able to love it. Again. Logical? No. Normal? Yes.
By the way, my husband explained that breach is not when the baby lies horizontally. That's called transverse (I had to look that up). Breach basically means that the baby hasn't turned over yet.

Preview

Today I happened to be in the hospital where I intend to give birth, which is different than the hospital where I gave birth in my first pregnancy. The reason I'm switching for my second pregnancy is that I don't think I can face those doctors again... not that they're likely to recognize my face. Just kidding. I've seen them since and they did remember me-- shows you what a model patient I was. Or what a squeaky wheel. I can't believe I just called myself a patient. I wasn't sick, I was giving birth... that's the problem with hospital births in general, I guess.

Anyway, this hospital was, I think, a step above the last one I went to for a couple of reasons. First of all, they have what they call a 'natural birthing room' which, as far as I can tell, basically has a nicer, upgraded bed and a bathroom with a jacuzzi. The decor is also wood paneled instead of hospital-grade sterile, which makes it a little nicer, warmer, a little less... clinical. It's in the same hallway as all the other birthing rooms. I guess they revamped this one as a little experiment in birthing. The only thing is that if you decide that you want to get an epidural, you have to move across the hall to one of the regular birthing rooms. Fair enough.

One of my major problems with the hospital I was at last time is that there was nowhere to be but in my room. There was no sitting or lounge area for moms to entertain their families and friends who came to visit. I had to host people in my little room along with my roommate whose giving birth drew out the entire village to come and bring her cakes, it seems. I ended up sitting with my guests in the hallway waiting area where we could actually sit and talk without the craziness of visiting hour pandemonium. Also, the room I was originally put in was very small. Really, it was only big enough for one bed and a bassinet. We couldn't have had both babies in there at once. I eventually got transferred to a bigger room (remember, I was there for 5 days waiting for my DS to get over vacuum-induced jaundice, which at the end of the day made all the difference and brought me close to the brink of madness.) This bigger room also featured a slightly better window-- it had one, but it looked out over the inner sanctum of the hospital, which is built in a ring. I didn't even have the window-side bed.

This other hospital has a communal dining area so you don't have to eat on your bed and you don't have to hustle to make sure there are no bloody sheets or clothes hanging around for when your husband's friends show up. Also, it makes you feel less like a patient and more like a woman who has just given birth. The rooms are less good-- they're for either two or three people, which is a bit crowded. However, if you're lucky then you'll score a window-side bed with a view AND privacy. The window beds are separated by a wall from the other roommates. It's a good thing I did this tour. Now I know what to ask for if I end up going there. Also, the staff seemed really nice and sweet. They were pretty ok in the last hospital too, and also more professional-looking (which does mean something) but there was one monster, b*&^h nurse on the birthing floor and one like that (who eventually softened up but started out mega super b^%$y) in the recovery area who really got to my pre and postpartum hormonal self a couple of times.

False Labor

I don't know what the technical criteria for false labor are, but at about 4am last night I was having something like it. I was getting waves of pain and nausea all up and down my abdomen. When you're not pregnant, you deal with the pain but you don't worry about it all that much-- at least relatively speaking. Stomachaches happen, and they usually resolve themselves. But when you're at the beginning of the third trimester, you start to consider going to the hospital pretty fast. I tried to think logically, which was a difficult process since I was having a wave of pain every couple of minutes. That was one clue in itself. Contractions don't usually start off that way. They start one at a time and gradually get stronger and closer together-- but that's in most cases and there's no guarantee that it can't just come on strong from the beginning. Considering that I've had another baby before, you'd think I'd be able to compare the present experience to my past one, but I was induced last time and I actually don't remember the pain too well, though I remember it was really, really bad. What I did know was that the pain I was having was comparable to a stomachache. Another clue was that I'd been having, eh, a bit of a problem with sharing enclosed spaces with people all day, if you catch my drift. I realized that I must have ingested about seven or eight nectarines, peaches and plums-- the current crop of fresh fruit-- over the last day and a half. I reasoned that this could have been the source of my troubles as well.
I eventually woke up my husband, though it was hard to speak and I didn't actually want to hear anything either. I wanted complete weightlessness and silence. I positioned myself in a draped position over the end of our bed which was more comfortable and then for some reason took comfort lying right on the hard tiled floor with my pillow. I think it was the coolness of the surface. I woke up in that position some time later-- I'm not sure how long-- and found that I was able to release all the pressure (ahem) that had been building up inside me. I felt much better and got back in to bed. I've been going easy on my stomach ever since, and I'm glad to know that little Fetus is still cuddled up inside, safe and sound and biding it's time until much closer to it's due date.

Raging Hormones? Maybe

I don't recall having much problem with the stereotypical raging hormones of a pregnant woman last time around. Except for when I went into labor --well, I was induced-- and something about that really knocked me off kilter. Maybe it was the fact that I was basically chained to the bed (I really wanted to be walking around) by the heart monitor on one side of me and the IV pole on the other. Maybe it was the whole drama of getting induced in the first place (I was still a week and a half shy of my due date but there was a bit of an emergency). Maybe it was all those things together. But at one point I looked up at the faces of the entire OB staff who had crowded into my room (naughty me for walking around and having the heart monitor slip off again) and started crying so hard that DH had to speak on my behalf. Then there was the incident in the hospital after the birth when I spent an entire morning crying, but that's a whole other story.

Today, however, I surprised myself by bawling my eyes out over a seemingly trivial incident. Nobody at DS's nursery had told me that they were having a harvest festival, that he was supposed to bring a basket of fruits and a pudding snack, that he was supposed to wear a white shirt. He was the only kid in blue. I don't know why but I care so much about these events. The staff could see that I was upset and they promised to dig up a shirt for him, to share fruits from other kids, and to provide him with pudding. I believed them. But still I had to run out of there before they could see my eyes filling with tears. Maybe it was my gratitude. Maybe it was the frustration I'd pent up over a traffic incident that happened on my way to drop him off. DH thinks that it was because I felt deprived of things as a child (I disagree). But in any case, by the time I got DH on the phone, I was a blubbering, snozzling, nose-blowing mess. I sat there on my cell phone (than God he was available) with the motor running for a full ten minutes-- I'm normally very careful not to talk for long on the phone so this is a big deal-- and still I didn't feel better. All the way to work I had tears running down my face. I finally allowed myself to acknowledge that perhaps I really just do feel strongly about holidays at nursery and not having him feel left out-- though as DH pointed out, he probably didn't even notice. He's really young. I even found pretense to call the nursery and see how things were going a while later. Well, I have to say, I can't attribute the whole incident to logic, therefore it must be at least partly hormonal-driven. I have succumbed. But at least I can recognize it.

My Secret Birthing Plan

My last birthing experience was below par, I'd have to say.
I mean, at the end of the day, it went well. The baby came out, I made it out too... but it was a pretty shaky ride. I was induced a week and a half early due to complications and the baby just wasn't interested in making an appearance.
The hospital staff didn't know what to make of me-- a patient who doesn't blindly take their advice and quietly lie strapped down in the bed under the weight of various monitors and IVs. I think I kicked (or tried to kick) the entire staff out of my delivery room at least once. You'd think they'd be used to hormonal women, but they all seemed kind of shocked. They were nice enough and definitely knowledgeable but I never really want to see them again. Not that they'd recognize my face, probably.
Anyway, as a result of that artificial labor and delivery, I have decided that, barring all complications, I will labor at home until the last possible moment. I don't want to be around anyone except for maybe DH (but he'll want to rush me to the hospital at teh earliest possible moment) and maybe DS but of course he is too young to undersand what's going on and I don't want to scare him. I just want to have the minimum intervention possible. I don't want to be checked and monitored and prodded. I don't want to be ultrasounded. I don't want my membranes busted for me. I don't want to be told not to eat.
My biggest fear of birthing was having a C-section but then my friend just had one, and she's convinced it was a better way to go, overall. I'm not totally convinced, but she did help me relax about it a bit. If it comes down to that, and I hope it doesn't, then I'm going to ask them to install a ziploc or a zipper instead of stiches. V-BACs are so iffy and complicated. Why not just take advantage and make subsequent births simpler?