My Birth Story

At 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant, I was already losing my patience (and my mind) waiting for our little boy to make his debut. I had convinced myself that he would come early, like many of my friends’ babies had, so the thought of going past my due date was actually torture. I had been diligently searching for signs of imminent labor since the day I hit ‘full term,’ often going to bed convinced that my minimal cramping or slight nausea meant I would have a baby in the next 24 hours (and therefore waking up with an overwhelming sense of disappointment when I was still in my own bed- no birth center for me!).

On that Sunday evening, I went out to grab a bubble tea and catch up with a friend who was visiting from out of town. We joked about my trying everything to get this labor rolling: chugging raspberry leaf tea, snacking on pineapple, bouncing on the birth ball, using borage oil nightly, belly sifting daily, eating the suggested 6 dates per day, and indulging in twice weekly dishes of eggplant parmesan. Maybe this was the trick. Maybe my bubble tea would caffeinate this baby just enough to send him on his way earthside.

Much to my surprise and delight, I saw my first pre-labor signs the minute I returned home from our bubble tea date that evening. At around 9 pm, I noticed what appeared to be part of the mucous plug and light bleeding while using the bathroom. I cautiously warned my husband, “This might actually be it!” and went to bed, hopeful that I wouldn’t be one of those mamas who experiences weeks of pre-labor, that this was actually happening.

Sure enough, I had what I would later realize were early labor contractions throughout the night. I woke up every hour feeling what I described as a candle burning in my pelvis. It started subtly, but then the slight burning sensation intensified until it finally “blew out.” Coupled with my mind racing with questions and worries and wishes, it was definitely not a restful night’s sleep.

These early labor contractions continued into the morning, regular enough to notice but subtle enough that I still wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. I went about my morning, getting ready for my 10:30 am appointment with the midwife, and figured I would ask her to shed some light.

At my appointment, my midwife confirmed that this candle sensation certainly sounded like a contraction. She checked me out and reassured me that everything looked good; baby was still in an ideal laboring position, and all my vitals were where they should be. She offered to do a pelvic exam, the first of my pregnancy, and out of curiosity, I accepted. I was already 4 cm dilated and 75% effaced. Now it was certain: I was definitely in early labor.

My midwife offered to sweep my membranes, explaining that this step would push labor along just a little bit, but only if my body were truly ready. I dreaded the thought of being in early labor for hours upon hours, so I went for it. She used her fingers to gently sweep between the amniotic sac and the uterus, gently encouraging things to continue on their way. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. She explained that the sweep would cause me to spot and cramp throughout the rest of the day, and that it usually got labor going within the next 24 hours. “If you go into labor tonight, that was all you. If it happens tomorrow night, then you can send me flowers,” she joked. She reminded me to return to the birth center when my contractions started occurring at 3-1-1 (3 minutes apart, 1 minute in duration, consistently for 1 hour) and sent me on my way.

As I left the birth center, it sunk in that this labor thing was actually happening. Up until this point, I had neglected to stock up on postpartum necessities like pads, Depends, and witch hazel. Maybe I was being cheap? Maybe I was in denial that I would actually need them? Who knows. But what better time than now, in early labor, to head to Target and buy all the pleasant supplies I would need?

Now, looking back, I know that I was definitely in the first stage of labor while strolling the aisles at Target. When my contractions came, I crouched down in the aisles, making it look as if I were searching for something on the bottom shelf. My contractions, while totally bearable, became increasingly distracting, so I got a move on and rushed home around noon.

I immediately hopped in a bubble bath, since this is how I’d envisioned laboring at home- calm, peaceful, using the mantras I had practiced to focus my energy and make labor as meditative as possible (for the record, I do not recall reciting any of my mantras once that day). I could still feel the burning sensation while in the tub, a clue I had learned meant that these contractions weren’t the practice kind, so I decided to start timing them with an app on my phone. At this point they were still pretty irregular, but they were becoming increasingly hard to breathe through. When the bath water was no longer quite soothing enough, I got out, made a quick lunch, and moved to the birth ball.

It was rocking on the birth ball that really brought my contractions to light. They were strong. They were distracting. They required all of my breath to move through. According to the app, they were lasting around 40 seconds and occurring at 3-4 minute intervals. At 1:30 pm, I called my husband and asked him to leave work and come home as soon as possible. I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was timing these correctly or being overdramatic, or how much of what I was feeling was just cramping from having my membranes stripped, but I felt like I needed him there.

Once my husband was home, I continued to labor on the birth ball, rocking back and forth to soothe the pain, and we called the birth center to help clarify whether this was labor or just cramping. It became clearer to me that the never-ending, dull pain was cramping due to the sweep. But the sharp, stabbing-in-the-uterus pain that came in waves? Those were contractions. And they were coming closer and closer together.

I started to feel anxious and asked my husband to drop the dog off at her sitter’s like we’d planned. I was nervous at the thought of waiting too long, so I wanted to err on the side of caution. Thankfully my instincts were right, as my contractions were lasting for around 45 seconds and coming at 2-minute intervals by the time he had returned. At 3:45 pm, we called the birth center once again and explained our situation. The midwife on-call asked us to come in and get checked at 4:30, once she had completed her appointments for the day. My husband then loaded up the car and shortly thereafter, we were speeding to the birth center.

We arrived a bit early, and the midwife took me back to do my second pelvic exam of the day. I was now 6 cm dilated and 100% effaced. “Congratulations, you’re in active labor! You’re here to stay,” she reported. We moved to the birthing suite and got settled in, and I immediately returned to the birth ball, rocking back and forth while holding onto my husband for stability. While none of this was quite pleasant, I felt well-equipped to breathe through each contraction and remain calm and positive.

For about two hours (which felt like mere minutes), I alternated between sitting on the birth ball and squatting in front of the fireplace, reaching up to grasp the mantel for balance. I was amazed at how instinctively my body found its way into the positions that best helped labor progress. We would later discover that baby was malpositioned- he had flipped posterior- and it turns out all the laboring positions my body was drawn to were those that help draw a malpositioned baby down and avoid excruciating back labor.

I spent the last bit of the first stage of labor and transition in the birth tub, soothed by the warmth of the water. With the intensity of each contraction, I hunched forward to bite down on the edge of the tub in front of me, again instinctively taking a position that would help my posterior baby descend. I remember asking the midwife and nursing staff repeatedly when this would end, what stage I was in, how much longer this would take. I was trying so hard to gauge my progress against the labor stages I’d researched so intently, hoping I could determine how far I was from the finish line. When she assured me that I was in fact in transition, based on her timing of contractions and reading my body language, I felt a sigh of relief. This wasn’t so bad, then! If this was the worst of it and I had no desire for medical interventions, then we were smooth sailing.

I was suddenly overcome with the urge to bear down and push. I had read that this would happen instinctively, but I’d never imagined how natural it would be. I couldn’t not push; my body was functioning completely on auto-pilot. My low groans gradually turned into guttural yells, and soon they’d edge even closer to screams.

I moved to the queen-sized bed to push, alternating between a hands-and-knees position and laying on my side, holding my knees toward my torso. At this point, my midwife discovered that a lip of cervix hadn’t fully moved out of the way to make room for baby, and my pushing against this had now caused that lip to swell. In order to open up the birth canal, she had to insert her hands and manually move the cervix aside, allowing for baby to come down and out.

I continued to push for just shy of two hours, which is the average length of pushing for a first-time mom. Although I don’t remember this, my husband says that I repeated over and over, “I can’t do this anymore!” It’s not that the pain was so unbearable that I wanted to throw in the towel- I had made it this far with no medication. I was burning out because I was pushing with every ounce of my being each time my contractions urged me to do so. I exerted every bit of my energy with every contraction, holding by breath, gritting my teeth, and squeezing every muscle in my body. I was no longer quite as calm between contractions, so I was encouraged to breathe into an oxygen mask to keep me from hyperventilating. After every push, I felt that had to be it; they had to be able to see my baby’s head now, right? And after every push, when I discovered his head was still in fact inside me, I was brutally discouraged. I was physically exhausted, and the breaks between contractions just weren’t enough for me to regain my strength or energy. It was as if I were running sprints at max capacity, and I just couldn’t muster up the energy for one more.

Eventually, I rejoiced upon hearing that my baby’s head was crowning, and then quickly partially out. Because of his less-than-ideal position, however, his head got stuck on my pelvis, remaining halfway out for what felt like an eternity. The nurse checked his heart rate after every contraction, and after being stuck for several minutes, his heart rate started to decelerate. For the first time in my labor experience, there was something to be worried about. The midwife warned me that this couldn’t go on much longer; I had to get this baby out in the next two pushes, or she would have to cut an episiotomy and pull him out. She pulled out a needle and numbed me, just in case it came to cutting.

Two determined pushes later, his head was free! I was so overcome with relief at having avoided an episiotomy that I don’t even remember birthing the rest of his body or the placenta; none of it seemed difficult in comparison to what I had just endured. But he was finally here. Before I knew it, my sweet baby boy was being placed on my chest, and the rest was a blur. My attention was entirely devoted to his sweet face, taking in every detail of this tiny human that I had created , carried, and brought into the world. I’d spent so many weeks wondering what he would look like, how this moment would feel, and here it was. I soaked him up, and everything else seemed to fade into the background.