Labor, Part 2

Read Labor, Part 1 here

And the story continues...

At some point the nurse moved me back to bed because Baby Girl's heart rate was dropping a bit after each contraction. I remember hanging onto the side rail of the bed with each contraction, trying so hard to stay in the moment, but unable to soothe myself by rocking or moving. I was trying to keep control of my breath and keep my moaning voice low, as our other wonderful midwife, Lin, had instructed in childbirth class.

Somewhere in all this, the nurse checked me and I was only 1 cm dilated. The threat of pitocin loomed. I knew if I was given pitocin I might have to succumb to that epidural needle because it could take my labor to another level very quickly. A bit later she came in again to put a fetal monitor on Baby Girl's head. She got me dilated to 4 cm. The accompanying nurse said "You're doing great. Most women wouldn't have made it this far without medication." I decided to hang on a little while longer.

I was given a small dose of pitocin around 6 AM. I was still in bed and totally inside myself. I don't know how else to describe it. People came in and out of the room, time was totally irrelevant, I have no idea what Vince was doing, I was taking life contraction by contraction. At some point I had Vince switch from The Weepies (we'd probably listened to it 7 or 8 times) to a Hypnobirthing CD (yep, that was one of the CDs I brought with me in my beach bag).

When shift change happened at 7 AM, my new nurse asked me if I was comfortable in bed. She got me back into the rocking chair. Despite being so pleased to be upright and rocking, I remember thinking So this is the point where women beg for the epidural , even if they planned on not getting one. I think I'm going to ask for that big needle to get into my spine, pronto. Yes, that's what I'm going to do. The contractions were taking over, one on top of another with nearly no break in between. My midwife Olga was at my side, soon the doula was, too. They were getting ready to take me from the rocking chair to a warm shower. Okay, I'll try the shower. Then I'll ask for the needle. Yep, that's my plan.

When I stood up from the rocking chair to walk to the shower, I felt the most overwhelming need to push. I have never felt so compelled to physically do something. My voice got really high pitched and I screamed "I have to push!" Olga checked me and said "She is having this baby now." And so, back to the bed I went.

Pushing Miss Vivian out into this world is the best thing I have ever done. It felt so good to be doing something, instead of just enduring contractions. Olga calmly told me to "Push to the ceiling, Hannah, push to the ceiling!" (Our midwife Olga is a goddess. She is a gift to women and babies.) I pushed and pushed. I know it sounds weird, but it felt great. My body knew what to do and I just followed along. Granted, it was hard work, but soon Olga put my hand on my baby's head--she was right there, and she had hair! (I never thought I'd have a baby with hair --I was bald til I was three!). Forty five minutes after I started pushing, we met our sweet little Benbo. She came out screaming.

Meeting our little girl. Photo by our doula, Deidre.

Vince went over with baby to be weighed and measured--just a little peanut at 17 inches long and 4 lbs, 14 oz. (And I had been convinced I'd be birthing a 10 pounder!) I remember Vince bringing her over to me in bed. I was so happy she was here, so in shock she was here. The post-birth high is a great one. I couldn't stop smiling. I've never felt so alive.

In the days and weeks that followed Vivian's birth, I didn't think too much about my birth experience. I was too overcome with sadness, worry and fear as I drove to and from the hospital to visit our daughter. Now that she's home, and I'm adjusting to our new reality, I enjoy delicately reconstructing the details of the beautiful and surprising way that Vivian joined us.

I wish I could have kept her safe in my belly for a bit longer. I'm sad that her sweet little heart wasn't made healthy when she was growing inside me. But I'm beginning to see that Vivian had a plan--she was ready to come out-- she knew she needed a little extra help from us and the doctors. She needed to be snuggled and rocked and kissed and sung to with fresh August air streaming in through the window and squirrels frolicking in the backyard. And it's my absolute honor and privilege as her mama to do so.