After working it out with my OB, we set an induction date of May 18. I was to report to L&D on May 17th for a dose of Cervidil, and would stay the night, to be induced around 7 in the morning. I spent the 17th in a weird state of "i’m having a BABY tomorrow!" A friend brought over some quiche and other goodies to have on hand when we got home, and brought her own 10 week old daughter with her. Dave happened to be home for lunch, and I could see on his face the thought of "whoa, we’re going to have one of these TOMORROW!" as he admired the baby. Natalie had been induced at the same hospital, and she had shared the details with me, which made me feel more confident going in. One thing she mentioned was that she’d brought gatorade powder that she drank while in labor, and that seemed like a good idea, so I spent the afternoon trying to find it, eventually locating it at the third grocery story I visited. I made sure our bags were packed, waited for Dave to come home, and called L&D, who said "come on in at 6:30." Before we went, we got dinner at Wendy’s (how romantic!) and looked around at everyone else thinking, "They have no idea that we’re about to have a baby…."
When we got to the hospital, we registered, and were taken to a triage room in L&D, where Dr. Lebowitz, the OB on-call from my practice that night, inserted cervidil to ripen my cervix. The weeks of bouncing on the ball, red raspberry leaf tea, walking, evening primrose oil, and sex had done nothing to take me beyond 1cm and 40% effaced. The cervidil was to stay in place overnight, but we were on the monitors for 2 hours before being sent to a postpartum room to spend the night. The nurse was very understanding when we asked if she could wait until 10 to move us, as we really wanted to see the end of the Amazing Race finale, and the 2 hour mark was up at about 9:50. It was a very quiet few hours, Dave and I watching TAR and the monitors registering contractions every now and then, but nothing beyond a 25-30 on the strip, which goes to 100. The baby’s baseline heartrate was 150, which the doc and nurses said was normal, but high, and deemed our baby "the crazy baby."
At 10, we were sent over to a private room on the postpartum recovery side, where we were like kids on Christmas Eve, so excited to meet our baby the next day. We watched some tv, and I had an Ambien so that I would be well-rested for the big day. Amy, my best friend, had arrived at our house and was going to be joining us at the hospital the next morning to act as our doula, and she called to see what time to come in, and we’d been told "around 7," so she planned to see us then.
May 18:
We woke up to a new nurse, who came in to tell us that our induction was delayed, as the L&D had gotten very busy overnight with women arriving in active labor. We called Amy to tell her to relax, and that we’d let her know when to come in, but she came in anyway to hang out. Dave had spent the night on a rollaway bed, so it was Dave, Amy, and I all kicked back and waiting for a room at L&D to get the show started. We kept getting pushed back — at around 10, a nurse came in and said that they had a room, and I’d be going in 45 minutes. Two hours later, she said that they DEFINITELY had a room, and they just had to clean it, and THEN we’d be going. A short time after that, she said that they had a patient being sent over directly from maternal-fetal medicine that was in distress, so it would be a while longer. At this point, I hadn’t eaten since Wendy’s the night before, because they wanted me on an empty stomach for the induction. Amy asked the nurse if I could have Jello, as it was considered a clear liquid, since it was going on 18 hours of not eating, and I was STARVING, and still NOT IN LABOR. The nurse had formerly worked at my OB practice, and she said "let me call, because they are getting slammed over there [L&D] and see what Dr Rinaldi thinks is going to happen." Dr Rinaldi okayed a light lunch, and I had turkey on wheat, no anything-else, and it was the most delicious sandwich ever. At around 4, I STILL hadn’t been induced, so the nurse called again, from my room, and Dr Rinaldi said that it probably wouldn’t happen today, because there was simpley no room, and that she’d be in that evening to check me. If I was still 1 cm, they’d re-cervidil me, but if i was 3 or so, they’d send me home and have me come back in the morning. At this point, we were really frustrated — we were so certain that May 18 was The Day, and it was quickly becoming Not The Day. I told Dr Rinaldi that I really didn’t want to leave without a baby, thank you very much, so bring on the cervidil. When she arrived that night, she checked me — when she proclaimed me "still 1 cm… no, 1-2 cm, and softer" and I said "Oh, you are just saying that to make me feel better, I just know it!" she laughed. "No, no, no, tomorrow we will have this baby!"
They re-did the cervidil, but I was able to be monitored in the private room, and not triage. Amy left for the evening, and we planned to reconvene in the morning. Dr Rinaldi had scheduled me to go at 5 am, but we planned to call Amy once we’d gotten settled into our labor room, as there would undoubtedly be some baseline stuff to accomplish before we needed her. I had another Ambien, we settled in for the night, AGAIN, and felt pretty confident that May 19 was now The Day.
At 4:15 am, the nurse roused me to take a shower and get ready to move over to L&D. I asked "are you sure? Am I realllly going to have a room today?" and she said "oh yes, I’m sure!" I showered, we grabbed our things we thought we’d need in the labor room, and they moved me over at around 5am, when I was given an IV and started on a pitocin drip and IV fluids. We called Amy who arrived after they broke my water at around 7 am, when I was pronounced 2-3cm, and with an odd cervix. I still don’t get it, but apparently some women’s os, the opening of the cervix, has a really distinct "inner and outer os," and mine was one of the most distinct they’d seen, in that the inner and outer were dilating at different rates. (I guess?) They moved to internal monitoring when my water was broken, which I found MUCH more pleasant, because I was able to rub my belly through contractions without the externals on. The internal fetal monitor was the most painful to have inserted, and shortly after it was in, it dislodged from the baby’s scalp, and had to be reinserted. Our labor nurse was the wife of the OB who’d done the first cervidil (and so, connected to my practice that way) and was fabulous, but she wasn’t able to get the monitor reattached. It happened that the third OB from my practice was in the hallway, and I’d never met her, but she was in and out and got us hooked back up again. I mention all these links to my practice, because again, I LOVE my OB, but I also love the practice, and literally everyone that I dealt with that was connected to it, was amazing.
Because of the pit drip, I needed to be on the monitors, so I was limited in my movement. I could disconnect to go to the bathroom, and then I labored in a straight back rocking chair for a while, when I had the overwhelming urge to puke. Anyone who knows me, knows that I DON’T PUKE. It was overwhelming, though, my mouth got watery, my whole body was overwhelmed, and Amy and Dave were scrambling to find a trash can for me to puke INTO. I didn’t vomit, in the end, but the rocking motion was becoming too much, so I got back in bed. Throughout all of the rocking labor, dave sat in front of me, and I stroked his hands, while Amy rubbed my shoulders behind me and talked me through it, reminded me to breathe, etc. It was weird, I totally went someplace else in the contractions. Not away from the experience, but into it, and away from Dave and Amy. I could hear them, and feel them, but I was someplace else.
At around 10, I requested Stadol. The effect was that I felt the contractions, but through a haze. I remember envisioning them looking like loaves of bread, soft rises, instead of mountain peaks. (Amy tells me now that the labor nurse was talking about pushing being like kneading bread, but I totally do not remember that.) At this point, I was dealing with the contractions with a wet washcloth, and my hands. Dave says I would start by rubbing my belly, and then slide up my body, and over my head and over my face. I do remember my nose being SO ITCHY during a contraction, and I was scratching it with a wet washcloth. The contractions were strong and steady, and at noon, I was at 4cm.
My initial birth plan was to go into labor naturally at home, labor there for as long as possible before going to the hospital, where I would join the ranks of the Unmedicated, Motherfucker! childbirth vets that I admire so much. I had every book on natural childbirth, I’d read tons of birth stories, I’d attended the classes and was really, really sure I could do it. But, when everything changed, when the birth process didn’t start naturally, I knew I had to change my expectations. I read up on pain relief, and knew that epidurals before 4cm can stall labor, so my goal was to make it to 4, and reassess then. I was still nervous, though, with this idea that an epidural=c-section, and I really wanted to avoid surgery. When I mentioned this to my doc, she asked where I got that idea, and I laughed and said "you know, TV.." and she explained the 4cm thing, and that inductions tend to be different than natural labors, and that the epi often makes vaginal delivery more possible, because the mom’s anxiety and tension is released and dilation is faster." One of my worries about an epidural was that I was disappointing Amy, of all people. Amy has delivered all three of her boys as part of the Unmedicated, Motherfucker! club, and her experience was why I wanted her to support me during my labor. (That, and because she is the only other person after Dave that really KNOWS me, and would know how to support me through anything.) When I got to 4, though, seven hours after the pit had been started, she told me that it was okay, that by this point in her labors, she’d already delivered, and that I’d been doing great through the first four centimeters, and that I wasn’t a wimp if I wanted the epidural. (It should also be noted that in the room next to me, a woman had been screaming, literally SCREAMING for hours, then stopped, and so we asked the nurse if she’d had her baby, and she said "oh, no, not yet.. I think she got some pain relief.") I went back out (this, like all big conversations with Amy in my lifetime, had taken place in the bathroom) and asked for the epidural. By a stroke of luck,the head anesthesiologist (from what I understand, everyone was surprised to see this particular doc on the floor) was there within minutes. She was super efficient in getting me set up, and my fears of having it hurt were totally unfounded. Novocaine at the dentist’s office hurts worse, truly. Amy had to leave at that point, because of the hospital regulations, so she went to get lunch. The epidural was totally different than what I imagined. Totally and completely. I could sense the contractions, but the pain was gone. My legs weren’t numb, though, I could move them enough to change positions, even. But the pain? was gone.
Amy returned, and she and Dave would watch the monitors and let me know how I was doing. Through the hole thing, even with the epi, I didn’t look at the monitors, because I didn’t want them to be discouraging or encouraging, I just wanted to focus on the task at hand. Getting info from Dave and Amy was acceptable, though. I had the epidural at 4cm, at 12:30, and I don’t remember what my next check revealed, or when it was. We all napped a bit, though, Amy in a recliner, and Dave in a chair with his head resting at the foot of the bed. I was on my side, and everyone was napping, and my teeth started to chatter.
When that happened, I was trying to assess why that was. Was there a window open? But I had warmed blankets on me. . . . and I remembered Amy saying that when she hit transition, she started to shiver like that, but I wasn’t sure that that would happen with an epidural, to have a physical response like that, but I started to wonder. The nurse came in, and Dave and Amy woke up, and by that point I was really chattering. Amy thought it might be nerves, and the nurse checked me and said "oh wow… you’re at 8cm! I was not expecting that!" She went out to the desk (we were right across the hall from the nurse’s station) and said "She’s 8!!" and I remember hearing somene reply "GET OUT." Apparently, she’d come to check because she thought my contractions were spacing too much, and she didn’t want them to lose effectiveness. I think that that was about 3. By 4:05, she’d declared me fully dilated, and called my doc.
At that time, she had Dave and Amy each take a leg and coach me through some practice pushing, while she massaged my perineum, and figured out how I was doing at the task at hand. She left us to push on our own, Amy and Dave on eithe side, and me, well, pushing, and Amy would watch the monitors, and they’d guide me through it. It was one of the coolest parts, actually, to have it just be the three of us in there, working on bringing this baby that each one of us was so invested in, into the world.
The nurse came in periodically to check me out, and she said that Dr Rinaldi was on her way, and that I was such a good pusher, that she was sure I’d deliver before 6. That was a really encouraging statement, to have this idea that by the time the evening news came on, I’d be a mom.
My doctor arrived before 5, I think (time gets hazy here) and got set up and watched my pushes, and at some point they brought a mirror and I could see the head. It actually freaked me out a bit, not the head, but the view of everything else. I was terrified that I was going to poop on the table, because I hadn’t gone for a few days before, and even though, rationally, I knew that just about everyone does, I was really, really nervous about it. At one point, I thought I felt the nurse sweep something away (and Dave and Amy both knew of my poop-anxiety, and it was sort of holding me back, and I looked at Amy and said "I did, didn’t I?" and she totally lied to me (and I totally knew it) and said "NO, gretchen, the head is so low, you can’t poop right now, even if you wanted to." Even though I knew she was lying, it helped me relax (plus, I figured, what’s to lose now, I already did it…).
While I was pushing, the doc was working my perineum, and telling me I just had to clear the pubic bone, that I was close…. I could FEEL the pressure, it DID feel like I had to take a giant poop, and I was able to push with it. The thing that really encouraged me, though, was when I saw them fire up the warmer in the corner. I knew I must be close, because they were getting ready to receive a baby over there. THe pushing was intense. I didn’t want to scream like the woman next door (who had delivered, WITH an epidural, with screaming and swearing and everything else) and I knew it wouldn’t help. I knew that pushing was the only thing between me and finding out who it was I’d been carrying for all this time.
At one point, I heard my OB say to Dave, quietly, in her Italian accent "You donta looka now" and Amy said "Dave, over here" and I figured (correctly) that I was about to get an episiotomy. It was just a small one, but just enough that in that push, I felt the head come out. I felt such relief at the head, physical, and emotional, thinking, "at least the head is out, I’m not going to have a c-section, the baby is going to be okay", that the shoulders were more challenging to deliver. I pushed again, and felt the baby slither out, and heard someone say "it’s a girl!" but I wasn’t sure, so I was asking "what, what, what are you sure it’s girl?" as they placed her on my chest.
The first view I got of Ingrid was of a purple faced baby with eyes going in two different directions, and an antenna coming out of the top of her head, as the scalp monitor was so entangled in her hair, they couldn’t remove it until she went to the warmer. And yet, she was beautiful, although one of my first comments was apparently "her eyes aren’t in sync!" I heard them ask Dave if he wanted to cut the cord, and he did, and they rubbed her down and took her to the warmer, where Dave followed, with Amy taking pictures the whole time. The way the room was set up, the nurse was between me and the baby, so i couldn’t SEE anything, and that was so frustrating. They also took some extra time, because as she came out, her cord did something funky on her end, and they eventually decided that it was a hematoma in the cord, so they had to cut it much longer than they normally would, but it wasn’t a dangerous thing, just really, really weird. (Everyone commented on it, from the nurses to the ped, as "I’ve never seen that before." That’s my girl!)
I hadn’t cried yet, it was just all so surreal, until Dave brought her over and sat next to me. As he was bringing her over, or before, he had started talking to her, and her cries instantly stopped, and she opened her eyes and just gazed at him (from what I overheard) and everyone was saying that she looked like him. When he sat down next to me, he and the baby just stared at eachother, and that’s when I lost it.
Here was Dave, who had grown up without a father, who had never looked like his other family members because he apparently looked so much LIKE his father, becoming a father himself, with a daughter with his forehead gazing up at him like he was the entire universe to her. Here was Dave, with his own family, one that he had created himself, at last. That’s when I really lost it. Or found it, as the case may be.
When the baby was born, and they said it was a girl, they asked if we had a name. Our girl name had been debated for MONTHS, our boy name had been settled on quickly, but not our girl name. We hadn’t really resolved it yet, so when they asked, I looked at Dave and said "I don’t know! Do we? Is it her name?" and Dave responded "Yes, yes yes, that’s her name," and I looked back at her and said "Ingrid."
They gave her to me to nurse her, and I was so overwhelmed and panicked. I had Ingrid in my arms, but I also had an IV in my right hand, and the epidural catheter pinned to my shoulder kept running into my mouth, and they had put a blood pressure cuff on my left arm, so tha the cord was running across my lap. The cuff wasn’t on right, so it just kept inflating trying to get a reading, and I felt so tied down, I just wanted to tear everything off and I couldn’t and was so frustrated, and my nipples were flat and weren’t perking up (despite months of working on that) and it was Just Crazy. Amy and the labor nurse were working with me, and finally the labor nurse just took off the BP cuff, and Amy helped me get her to latch and to calm me down. Of everything about this, breastfeeding has been my number one priority, even over the U,M! club membership, and so I think that my own anxiety was overtaking me.
As part of Amy’s assistance, she’d been keeping my parents updated on my progress. They’d come down the day before and gotten a hotel room, but knew I didn’t want an audience, and didn’t want to be asked a million questions. Amy was INVALUABLE in this regard. She’d disappear for a while, call them, and come back. I never knew what she’d said, what they’d said, but I knew that she was handling my family (okay, my MOM) perfectly. When it came close to delivery, she called and told them they might want to come over, but apparently my dad and kate wouldn’t let my mom race over. (AMy hadn’t said "she’s pushing," just more of a "be ready.") After I delivered, she called them and said "come on over, and I’ll meet you in the waiting room on the 7th floor." She went out and got them, and they asked "what? is everything okay?" and she told them it was fine, but to follow her, and she brought them in, where the first thing they saw was a baby in the hospital bassinet, and my mom just BURST into tears, and looked at us, and i said "It’s a girl!" That was pretty cool. I was able to share that with my family without having to share everything ELSE that would’ve stressed me out. I would PAY someone to run that interference in the future, and it was just one of the many ways in which having Amy there was invaluable. Even Dave said he didn’t know how people did it without a doula/Amy to help, because it allowed him to really be there and not worry so much. Amy was able to reassure him about normal labor stuff when the labor nurse wasn’t there, she was able to help me physically through the contractions while he supported me emotionally (and they both supported me physically and emotionally, but I think he felt good about having someone else to remind us of what to do.) When we’d talked about having Amy there, i was concerned that he might feel invaded on, and it was entirely the opposite — he felt it was such an intimate experience BECAUSE she was there. I even wonder if we’d been left alone to push if not for Amy; the labor nurse had commented while she was out of the room that she was a "fantastic labor coach," so I wonder if she sensed that we’d be safe to leave us.
WHile I’d been laboring, the onslaught of deliveries meant that we lost our private room, and all of our stuff was brought to us in L&D. Another part of the unplanned experience was having to have a shared room, because everyone said it was really rare that that ever happened. A shared room meant a roommate, for one, and no overnight visitors, for two, which SUCKED. The first night, we weren’t sure if or when I’d get a roommate, but it was so probable based on the number of people in L&D, that Dave went home at midnight instead of possibly having to be kicked out at 3 am. Ingrid roomed in with me, and the nurse was great at helping me with breastfeeding and such, but it still was so WEIRD to have had this amazing, momentous experience with Dave, and then have him just . . . go home. He was able to sleep (but he HATED leaving us, as well) and spent the entire next day with us, but it still sucked.
The next day, I did get a roommate, at around noon. She was a young, maybe teen?, single mother with no father apparent, but lots of relatives. They came in like a herd of cattle, commenting on what a "cute lil dude" the baby was (who had one of *those*names), wondering if he’d be a furnace-man like his uncle, how they couldn’t wait to take him mudding, I mean, every stereotype of a rural maine young, single mother was brought up. Meanwhile, i’m on the other side of the curtain, trying desperately to nap while Dave is holding Ingrid, and just. going. nuts. I called my nurse for motrin, because the stress literally made me hurt more, and I was getting a headache. I told her that, and sort of gestured to the curtain, where people were still celebrating, and on her way out she made a comment like "it’s been a long morning, this would be a good time to rest…" Dave also sort of pushed his chair back, trying tomake it visible that, HELLO, we have a NEW BABY OVER HERE, and someone must’ve gotten the hint, because half of them left, and the other half quieted down.
Dave stayed til 8, leaving us again, and the roommate could not have been more different than I. I still had Ingrid with me, while she sent her Lil Dude to the nursery, ordered percocet, cranked up her tv to 11 and watched Red Green and cartoons all night. I had MY tv on a snow channel, trying to give Ingrid and I some white noise, and it just. wasn’t. working. I ended up having the nurse take Ingrid twice for a few hours, because it was impossible for bothof us to rest in that room, and by that point I liked how the nurse handled Ingrid, and trusted her to not jack her up on formula and heroin, so I felt okay about it. She brought her in to nurse in between, and when I woke up for the morning, I felt so much better. It was interesting, though, my eyes popped open, I looked at the clock and thought "I want my baby!" and I heard a baby cart coming down the hall, and there was Ingrid, who had just woken up in the nursery. Dave showed up as soon as he could, where we listened to more on the other side of the curtain. The other mom could not have been more different from us — formula feeding, not rooming in, circumcising, etc etc. It was particularly frustrating to hear her complain about engorgement, as we were working with an LC and breast pump to try to draw out my nipples, and the ped was kinda-sorta concerned about her weight loss approaching 10%, but thrilled with her color, and the girl next to me is apparently a milk machine.
We’re working on the nursing, Dave is an unbelievable father, and partner in parenting, and we are both over the moon in love with our daughter. I can hardly believe she’s here. She has super long feet and toes ("Oh, right, this is the baby with the big feet," said the ped), and looks like an angry elf when she’s nursing. She hates having her diaper changed, her cord is much bigger than most, but drying up and shrinking each day, and she loves to sleep nuzzled on our chests, which is where she’s been as I’ve been writing this up.
Some other thoughts on the whole experience:
The whole process only highlighted more how important it is to have care providers that you trust. My doctor was amazing — not only to me, but also to Dave, and even to Amy, who was so fascinated by the post-delivery stuff, that the doctor explained everything to her as she did it, from stitching me up to showing her the placenta and explaining all the different parts. And of course, she was great to me. .Listening to my own worries and fears and thoughts on everything, and always reminding me that it was my choice, no matter what. I felt empowered as a patient, and I’m still confident in my decision to induce, despite Ingrid’s lack of macrosomia. (And, for the record, my OB’s predicted birthweight was pretty accurate, she estimated between 8 and 8-6 for weight, and Ingrid was 8-4.)
I was so afraid and worried about "not feeling present" during birth,
and I worried that an epidural would make birth "something that
happened to me" as opposed to "something I did." I was so incredibly
present at Ingrid’s birth, and it WAS something I did. I am so thankful
for that. Even though just about everything went totally differently
than I expected, it was still the most amazing thing, ever.
