Emelia’s birth story: Part 1

Catch up on these posts here first if you missed any part of the birth story:

34 Weeks: Preeclampsia

34w5d: I get a cervical dilation

Introducing…

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Emelia’s birth story was the wildest, most unpredictable, and physically and mentally hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Prior to finding my doctor, I was scared of inductions. Many of the experiences I had heard about ended in C-sections after an exhausting and grueling labor that was going nowhere. But my doctor had reassured me his inductions don’t lead to an increased chance of C-sections. His process was long and slow, something many of his colleagues didn’t agree with. He let a woman’s body do its thing and gave it time to go on its own.

Friday, October 4th

On Friday, October 4th, we started Pitocin at 2mL/hour at 8 am. He gradually increased it over the next four hours until I was at 4mL/hour and then kept it there.

I found out the baby’s head was still higher up there, but then found out it’s because, well, I needed to poop.

That’s right. Her head couldn’t really descend because of everything going on in my rectum. I had told the nurse I was having a lot of gas pain and bloating and couldn’t remember when I had last gone. My doctor thought it might be a good idea to try an enema. So that was fun. I’ll spare you the details. But I think I might have gotten a taste of what labor would be like.

That being out of the way, I spent the day hanging out in bed, listening to my hypnosis tracks. The waves were definitely not as strong as they were yesterday, but they were about 10 minutes apart.

That evening, my doctor came to visit and dropped a bombshell. There were staffing issues in the NICU. Apparently, they were short a nurse and no one was willing to cover the weekend.

“So if your baby is born before Sunday morning, she’ll get transferred to another hospital.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m sorry.”

I stared at him, my mouth open. He said he fought it. He said he argued with the neonatologist about separating a 35 weeker with her mom. The neonatologist said there were protocols to follow and that included how they contacted nurses for staffing. He said practicing medicine shouldn’t be about blindly following protocols.

“So…what does this mean?” I finally asked.

He told me I’m safe on the magnesium. He told me he didn’t want to have me transferred because no other doctor would let me have a VBAC in my situation. He doesn’t want me to be separated from my baby.

So we made the decision to shut the Pitocin off tonight and start again in the morning. He said he’d be surprised if I delivered before Sunday morning.

So we were buying time. I hoped his conservative approach to inductions would get me over the hump because a transfer to another hospital was unthinkable. I called my doula and she suggested I talk to him later tomorrow about being transferred to the sister hospital to the one I was at. They took babies 34 weeks and up and I could be transferred there too if needed.

The Pit was shut off and I spent another night with sleep meds and every four-hour blood pressure checks.

Saturday, October 5th

The Pitocin was turned on again at 6 am that morning. I reached the 4 mL/hr and they went up to 6. I got a chance to speak with my doctor again and mentioned the transfer to the sister hospital if that’s what it came to. He said that was a very good possibility and with that, he could get privileges there. I crossed my fingers it would work out, but even more so that no transfer would be needed.

I talked to my doula again on the phone after getting to take another shower.

“This is messing with me,” I told her, “I feel like I can’t focus on moving forward and working with my body because I don’t want her born too soon.”

My doctor returned later that afternoon.

“I’m being backed into a corner,” he told me, “The board told me I need to move forward with the induction and deliver the baby.”

I wanted to tell him to have the board come into my room and say that to my face, so I could tell them they could shove it up the ass. Relax, I didn’t.

The waves started increasing in intensity, enough where I needed to stop what I was doing and breathe through them.

Later in the afternoon, the Pitocin was increased to an 8, still pretty low and conservative, but it freaked me out. I was honestly scared to progress in case this happened too early and she needed to be transferred.

“Talk to your baby,” my doula advised on the phone, “Tell her it’s OK to come. Tell her to drop down into your pelvis. Tell her she’s safe and it will all be OK.”

My parents arrived with Olivia that afternoon. She was a whirlwind, ecstatic to see me, wanting to sit on my hospital bed and eat my snack and crushed ice. I had to stop every few minutes to breathe through waves, something a bit difficult to accomplish when a preschooler is in your face asking you, “What’s dis for, Mama? You got a shot? Did it hurt? Did Dada hold your hand?” She was fascinated with my IV. The waves were about 3-4 minutes apart.

Chris took her down to the gift shop to pick out a stuffed animal for when the baby came. I explained to her that sometimes mamas needed to stay in the hospital to have their babies and she seemed satisfied with that.

After everyone left, things picked up more in intensity. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I kept going to the bathroom. The PICC team came to place another IV for a saline lock, in case they needed to give medication for hemorrhage after the delivery. I had told them they could place it, but only if it was in my forearm. I wasn’t going to have both hands and wrists restricted, especially during my labor. Luckily, they were able to get it in a great spot.

I was feeling a lot more pressure when I stood up to use the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if that meant she was further down in my pelvis, but my doula encouraged me to do the cervical check when my doctor came in later to see where I was at. “It might be encouraging!” she texted back.

The nurse gave me a peanut ball to use to open up my pelvis more to get the baby in a better position. I tried it off and on while I kept listening to my hypnosis tracks and getting up to pee. The best positions I was finding is when I could lean against the doorframe of the bathroom, and over the sink. Chris would rub my belly when a wave would come and that helped until it didn’t and I batted his hand away.

By 6 pm I wasn’t able to silently breathe through the waves anymore and started “Ooooooo”-ing my way through them. I think they were probably lasting around 45 seconds.

My doctor came back around 7 pm and did another cervical check. I was 4.5 cm dilated and 100% effaced. He thought I was progressing perfectly. I had the option to turn the Pit off and have another night of rest or plug through this tonight and it would be likely I’d have a baby by morning.

I asked my nurse if I was in active labor, because I wasn’t sure when I needed to call my doula. She said I was heading there, but I wasn’t there yet.

I kept trying to do my hypnosis, but it seemed like I was constantly being interrupted by hospital staff, so it was hard to focus.

By 10 pm, it was really getting intense and I started shifting around during waves in the vain hope it would ease the intensity, but of course waves don’t work like that. I had spoken to the nurses that I didn’t want to be offered pain meds because I wanted to be the one to bring it up. I didn’t want them to ask about my pain — I wanted them to use the words “comfort level” when asking about how I was feeling. Basically, I didn’t want anything to get in my head. I was going to do this without pain meds.

Sunday, October 6th

My nurse came in around 12:45am and asked if I wanted my doctor to come in and check where I was at. I told her I was trying to hold out until he said he’d come around 1:30 am.

“I just don’t want to be discouraged if I haven’t made much progress,” I explained, gritting my teeth when I was slammed with another wave.

He came 45 minutes later to check me.

“How are the waves?” he asked, and I appreciated so much he remembered to use the correct language.

“Um, intense,” I laughed.

He checked me, and I had progressed to 6 cm. “You’re at that point where I could break your water and we could see if that picks things up,” he offered and I agreed. I motioned to Chris to call my doula. In hindsight with how I was progressing I wish I would have called her earlier. My doctor warned me as I lay there that things will probably get much more intense. I felt the gush of warmth between my legs. Chris was on the phone with Aileen.

My doctor explained that sometimes this really speeds things up and sometimes it doesn’t and there’s really no way to know.

Spoiler alert: I was the former.

To be continued…