Birth Story

I decided to write out James’ birth story so that I would have it to look back on later. I thought that many of you would like to hear more details of his birth as well, so I am posting it here. I tried to avoid writing about too many TMI moments, but it is is childbirth after all so there are a few in here. If you are at all squeamish about medical procedures, stop reading now. You have been warned...

Friday Evening, I was walking out of the bathroom when I felt a small, warm trickle running down my legs. At first, I thought that my very squished bladder may have just failed me, but the liquid was clear and matched every description of amniotic fluid I had ever read. So, I decided to call my doctor to let her know what happened and see what she wanted me to do. After a short phone conversation with Dr. Bernstein, Mike and I were loading our bags into the car and heading to be checked at Labor and Delivery. Honestly, I think at this point we both expected to just be sent back home, even though neither one of us could think of a single explanation for the fluid other than my water breaking.

Once we were checked in, they sent us to the triage room to answer questions and be tested to determine if my water had really broken. This was the first time in my life that I truly realized the importance of a good nurse. It isn’t the quality of the doctors that makes or breaks a hospital experience, but the attitude and competence of the nurses. Unfortunately for me, my triage nurse needed some lessons in bedside manner. She performed the first test and it came back negative. She condescendingly told me that since the strip did not turn blue, I had obviously wet myself. I patiently explained that it had to be something other than that as the fluid was odorless. She huffed, literally huffed, and said there was a second swab test that she could try. She performed this test, none too gently and with a complete lack of sympathy for the pain she was causing me I might add, and it came back positive. Her reaction? A surprised, but still unfeeling, “Well, I guess you are ruptured.”

Shortly after being checked into a labor room, Dr. Bernstein arrived. I was surprised to see her very dressed up. It turns out that Friday, July 9^th is actually her anniversary and I had called her away from dinner with her husband. Ah, the life of an OBGYN. She checked me, and I was still only 1cm dilated and “thick.” This is exactly where I was when she checked me the week before. They didn’t tell me a percentage effaced, which made me guess that I must be somewhere near zero.

For anyone who doesn’t know, once your water breaks, the doctors want you delivered within 18 hours due to the risk of infection. So, in order to speed things along, Dr. Bernstein placed a saline filled Foley as a way of manually stimulating my cervix to dilate. The Foley falls out when you reach approximately 4 cm. Until that time, however, it is uncomfortable and incredibly obnoxious. I was hoping that the Foley would be enough on its own to get things moving, but no such luck. After about an hour with no signs of any progress, Dr. Bernstein had the nurses start me on pitocin. Even with this, it took a total of twelve hours for me to dilate to the necessary 4 cm for the Foley to fall out.

Once the Foley was out, the nurses turned up my pitocin, and Dr. Bernstein came by a couple of hours later to check me and break my water the rest of the way. It was approximately hour 14 of labor and I was 5 cm dilated and 50% effaced. Despite the fact that the contractions were becoming very intense and I was dealing with gnawing hunger from not having eaten since noon the day before, my stubborn determination to try for a natural childbirth (well, I guess natural as long as you don’t count the pitocin) was keeping me going. It also helped that Mike was absolutely fabulous. He massaged me, rocked with me, kept my rice sock hot at all times, brought me water, candies and popsicles, and never once breathed the word epidural.

After four more hours of breathing my way through intense contractions, Dr. Bernstein was back to check me again. I was sure that she would find that I was dilated to at least 8 cm and 100% effaced, but boy was I wrong. After all of that effort I was only 6 cm and still 50% effaced. Then, Dr. Bernstein dropped the bomb. I was at the critical 18^th hour and not making any significant progress. They would really turn up the pitocin and check me in an hour, but if nothing was happening at that point, it was time for a c-section. The pitocin went up and the contractions became indescribable. To make matters worse, I had begun to literally shake with hunger and my wonderful, supportive, compassionate night nurses had been replaced with a cold and clinical day nurse who never once asked how I was doing or if I needed anything. I was all right for 15 minutes of this. Then my nurse swept in, took one look at my readout, callously said, “Well, they’re going to need to get a lot stronger than this,” cranked up the pitocin even more, and swept out without another word.

At this point, I lost it. I was too tired, too hungry, and too upset about the idea of a c-section to take anymore. My calm, focused breathing went out the window, and I began to sob and hyperventilate my way through the contractions. Mike called the nurse and we ordered the epidural. The next 45 minutes of waiting for the anesthesiologist were the worst of my life. I can’t even begin to describe what I was feeling. Sitting still while they placed the epidural was also one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but once it kicked in, it was sweet relief. I felt better than I had in almost nine months.

Dr. Bernstein hoped that the relaxing effect of the epidural would allow my body to work more efficiently, so she decided to give me another hour and check me again. Sadly, at the end of this hour, not only had I not made any progress, but I had actually gone back to only 4 cm dilated. Additionally, James’ heart rate was dropping with every strong contraction. It was time for a c-section. We had to wait for the operating room to become available as there was an emergency c-section that had higher priority than me.

Mike got dressed in a disposable jumpsuit type garment and we put on those lovely blue hairnets/hats. They wheeled me into the O.R., prepped me for surgery, and brought Mike in. The surgery itself was a strange experience, but I was more fascinated than upset or scared. The first thing I noticed was a small wisp of smoke and a sizzling sound when Dr. Bernstein made the opening incision. The rest of the surgery felt like my body was made out of 2-inch thick rubber that was being pushed and tugged in every direction.

Soon enough, James was out. I really wish I could have seen him right away, but because he was a preemie, the neonatologist took him over to the warmer for a check without showing him to me first. Mike said he looked like a blueberry when he first came out, and everyone else in the room just kept saying over and over how cute he was. After he was cleaned up, they brought him to me so that I could give him a quick kiss before he and Mike left the room, so that he could get weighed and measured. The end of the surgery seemed to take forever. I was so exhausted that my body shook nonstop and I fought to stay awake.

They wheeled me back to my room where James was in a warmer, but I couldn’t hold him or even see him from where I was. He had a little fluid in his lungs and had to lie on his belly for about half an hour to help him cough it up. Finally, what felt like an eternity later, the nurse came in and brought him to me to feed. He took to it like a pro, so at least one thing about this experience was relatively easy. Mike got to hold him next, and watching them together was one of the most touching things I have ever seen. Our baby boy was safe, healthy, beautiful, and perfect in every way. The road to his arrival was rough, but absolutely worth it.