My Life as an African Gypsy

(Preggo pictures are a day before she was born at 39wks 5days)

I had my doctor appointment at 9:00am, which is when the doctor checked me and placed the cervix softener. I was about three centimeters at the time, not much more than two weeks before. Her ultrasound estimated her at 9.6 pounds +/- 1 pound. I was previously under the impression that I would have her that day; however, I was warned at that appointment that it could take up to three days! I nearly cried right there, as I had felt mentally prepared to start labor that day.

A little let down, we went to grab coffee and a bagel to distract ourselves from analyzing every little feeling and twinge. Afterwards, we went home and I wanted to take it easy in case anything happened and I needed the strength for labor. Gymnastics was on TV, one of my favorites, so I lay down to watch. At 11:40 I sat up to check my email, and my water broke. It took me by complete surprise. I didn’t want to get too excited, in case I was mistaken, so I decided to lay down a bit more. (Now what I believe happened: http://www.babyzone.com/askanexpert/labor-bag-of-water)

Contractions started about 30-40 minutes later. They were not intense and only 30 or so seconds long, so I figured it was a good time to jump in the shower and blow dry my hair. To be honest, I knew lots of pictures were coming, so I wanted to give myself a shot at looking half decent. ;) Contractions gradually got stronger over the next few hours. We labored at home until about 3:45, when we realized they were lasting 1 minute, every 2 minutes, and we should go ahead and get to the hospital.

My doctor wasn’t there, but they called her immediately, and the nurse took me to measure Anaya’s heartbeat. After lying on my side, to my disappointment, I felt has if the contractions slowed a bit. Thankfully, however, they picked back up again shortly after walking around. When the nurse checked me, I was still only 3cm, and I was frustrated. Though labor hadn’t been difficult up until this point, it had been hours, so I was hoping for some progress.

We got into our room, and I kept walking, squatting, sitting on the ball etc. in order to encourage progress. Jon had forgotten his computer, and realizing my progression was slower than we thought, we figured we may want to watch/listen to a movie to help pass the hours ahead. We agreed I was handling the contractions okay on my own, so it was probably the best time for him to run home, which is only 5-10 minutes from the hospital.

I continued my little exercises and tried to stay relaxed through the contractions. Maybe 15 minutes after Jon had left, I was on my knees, draped over my exercise ball, when my water broke ‘for real’ and pain immediately intensified (see the link above about water breaking). Without ‘call’ buttons for nurses, I quickly went to the restroom and tried to clean myself up to go get a nurse. I was not yet in a hospital gown, and now my dress was wet. I waddled in pain to the hallway to holler at the nurse, who came quickly. She wanted to monitor Anaya’s heartbeat again to make sure all was okay.

As I wondered in my head how I would lay on my side long enough to let her do that, my doctor arrived. She wanted to check me, so without thinking I could, I laid on my back and she checked me. I was 5cm. She said on the next contraction she could stretch me a bit, which would be uncomfortable, but I was all for shortening the process. A contraction and some help from the doctor later and I was 7cm. I felt like I wanted to go to the toilet, so I did and my doctor came along. It was then that she told me, “If your husband doesn’t get back soon, he’s going to miss the whole thing.” I panicked. I didn’t even have enough phone credit to call him and tell him to hurry.

Thankfully, it was only minutes later that Jon arrived. He was obviously shocked by the chaos of everything happening. I had the strong urge to poo, and the doctor said it was probably the head coming down, so she needed to check me again. At this point I was on my hands and knees on the bed and unsure if I could turn over. My doctor assessed the situation, trying to appease me, but needed me on my back. I was 8cm. The next contraction she stretched me to a 9.

It was time to head to the delivery room, one floor below. Thinking my doctor was crazy, I asked her if she wanted me to walk. Yes. She thought it would help the baby come down some more, and the elevator was close. Just wanting to get the baby out, I mustered the strength to get in the elevator, and tried not to worry about the people around.

Walking into the delivery room, I realized nothing was prepared for me. The air conditioners were off and nothing was on the bed. I was angry. My first comment was, “It is SO hot in here!” My fabulous husband made sure the air got turned on right away. I was not in the position to stand and wait for the bed, so I dropped to my hands and knees right there on the tile floor. I am pretty sure I was sporadically yelling out in pain and telling my doctor I had to poo. Everything felt barbaric. The doctor got on the floor with me and asked me which birthing position I had chosen, as she knew I was unsure about laying on my back. I whined that I didn’t know, feeling very out of control. Calmly she asked if I was picking it then, on my hands and knees, which she didn’t mind, but it would be easier for her if I could make it up on the bed.

I decided to get on my back/sit up on the table. There was lots of hustle and bustle around, with the doctor, nurse and pediatrician getting everything ready for Anaya’s arrival. I was ready to push, so we got started right away. I tried no noise/ grunting, but usually ended in a full out yell. My doctor would stop me sometimes and tell me I was out of control and needed to refocus. This was a big help. I wasn’t having regular contractions, so rest times were frequently still with the pain of a contraction. Once, I remember wanting to cry, feeling completely incapable of the task at hand and wondering what they would do if I couldn’t do it.

I pushed for about 30 minutes in total. After some time, the doctor concluded that Anaya had been in the birth canal too long. While initially we had not wanted an episiotomy, and the doctor agreed, it was time for some intervention, and I was not tearing naturally. She gave me local anesthesia, telling me it was just in case she needed to cut a little, but made eye contact with my husband and offered a few hushed words to let him know she intended to a cut lot. I am glad I didn’t know. Sure enough, she cut a few minutes later, but mixed with the pain and chaos, I didn’t care. I believe the doctor could see Anaya’s head, she just wasn’t coming out.

It was at this point that the nurse got up on top of me and started pushing downward right under my rib cage with her full body weight, attempting to help push simultaneously with me to get the baby out, a technique I had heard of, but one that took Jon by surprise. After a couple tries, the doctor made eye contact with me and told me the next push had to be it and not to stop pushing. In fear for Anaya’s safety, I pushed as long and hard as I could, hardly catching my breath in between. She didn’t come out, and I had to breathe/take a break. I was becoming more and more concerned. The doctor switched places with the nurse, got on top of me and started pushing with all her body weight. It was a little surreal, as Jon was encouraging me in one ear, my doctor was jumping on top of me, and I was in the worst pain of my life, screaming the most barbaric noises that had ever come out of my mouth. It was almost an out-of-body experience, as I took it all in, feeling as though it could not be me this was happening to.

Within 1 minute, the doctor switched with the nurse again, and the head emerged. I thought I’d have a better sensation or awareness of this, but I didn’t; I had no clue, just pain and burning. Suddenly my doctor was telling everyone to just stop; stop pushing, stop mashing my tummy, everything. The rest of Anaya’s body emerged, and the doctor removed the cord, which had been wrapped around her neck.

They immediately put her on my tummy. She was lifeless and blue, and I, full of concern, asked the doctor if she was okay. Her response: “More or less.” That wasn’t the most reassuring, but Jon quickly cut the umbilical cord and they whisked Anaya off to receive oxygen and suction. Soon she made her first cry, putting my mind a little more at ease.

The delivery of the placenta and the sutures were painful and accompanied my some more painful wails as we discovered how far down or up the local anesthesia had reached by placing one stitch where none had spread. It seemed to take forever. I had no baby to see, hold or try to breastfeed, and she needed to remain on oxygen on the other side of the room. I was cold and shaking. The pain is still vivid and uncomfortable to re-live.

Once it was done, Jon pushed the nurses to allow me to try and breastfeed before we went to the room. Anaya had been rooting and looking for the breast, so we wanted to take advantage of it. Sure enough, when she got to me, she latched right away. We let her stay for a few minutes, and they took her back to the oxygen. Once they got me into my wheel-chair, which was terribly painful, due to the new stitches, I was finally handed my baby to cuddle and carry upstairs. This was the best moment of it all.

Once we got to our room I didn’t want to give her up, but I was incredibly nauseas and needed a bucket for vomiting. I hollered for Jon, who was in the hallway, and he took her, while I dry-heaved into a bucket. I felt so weak and tired. They got me in bed and gave Anaya back. I felt a bit traumatized, but in love. Anaya was perfect and healthy, breastfeeding excellently.