While I was pregnant, I read a lot of blogs and birth stories, and a few months after Zoe was born wrote my experience down to remember. It is detailed, probably more than most people would want to or need to read. The other day my computer almost broke (battery exploded) and I realized I wanted to post this here to have a record of it. It is mostly for me, but you are welcome to read.
Labor and Delivery Story
Labor and Delivery Story
At around 2:00 am on Wednesday night (or I suppose I should say Thursday morning) I woke up with a steady aching pain in my abdomen. This had happened to me twice in the past two weeks, so I wasn’t worried, even though it didn’t match anything I had read about labor or contractions- I had asked my doctor and she said it was just my body preparing myself for labor. In the past, moving around had helped the pain go away, so I got up and went out into the living room for a little while.
Instead of going away, this time, however, the pain increased. It would get steadily sharper and more intense, and then gradually fade back to the level it had been at when I woke. There was never a time where the pain went to zero, and the peaks were so slow I couldn’t necessarily tell when they started or ended, leaving me confused as to whether they were contractions. Eventually I woke Aaron to tell him about them, and we called the doctor on call. I am not the biggest fan of this particular doctor, who quite harshly insisted to me that the pain couldn’t be a dull ache and a sharp pain at the same time—while I understand her point if we are talking about pencils, I am not a professional pain describer. That is really what it felt like to me. She told me to try to get some sleep, because this was likely early labor. Aaron went back to bed, and I tried to sleep on the couch, but with no luck.
The peaks in the pain became more pronounced, and I was able to track the beginning and ending like a true contraction, so I began to time them. The time between them was sporadic- sometimes five minutes, sometimes 15. The thing I found most distressing was the pain never returned to zero, something I hadn’t been bargaining for. I was counting on a break between contractions- some time to regroup. The peaks in pain were extremely sharp and intense. I began keeping an internal pain scale (not knowing that I’d be using this for several days with all hospital staff) and I judged the “ache” at a 3 and the contractions at a 5. I can now modify that scale- in retrospect, the ache was a 2 at most, but this was early on in my experience with pain!
At around five-thirty or six I woke Aaron again- the pain was getting more intense and the contractions closer together, so I wanted help in timing them. He found an online contraction timing program and we sat on the couch, tracking them. After a couple of hours of doing so, we still found no steady pattern. Sometimes five minutes would pass, other times fifteen. I had an appointment scheduled with my doctor for today (the 41 week visit that she had told me that “although she does not make predictions” she was fairly sure she would not see me for!). Now, I live in mid-Brooklyn, and my doctor is in Soho. I was delivering at NYU hospital on 31st street. I was fairly sure I was not going to be ready to go to the hospital following my 10:00 appointment, and the idea of trekking back and forth multiple times to Manhattan while in labor was less than appealing to me. So, I called the doctor to see if I could either not come in for the appointment, or at least come later in the afternoon when I was farther along. Doctors don’t seem to want to go with your instincts, I’ve found- she said she wanted to see me to see if I was ready to go to delivery, but she couldn’t change my appointment time.
Aaron and I decided to call a cab, as much as that goes against my thrifty nature. Now, if you had thought contractions on the couch sound uncomfortable, just try bouncing along in a car service for 20-30 minutes (trying to ignore images of breaking down on the Manhattan bridge and delivering in the back of a car that are floating through your head). The whole time, I’m making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror, who seems to be desperately trying to ignore my deep breathing and keeps his eyes alternating between me and the road. I am aware of trying to be quiet so as not to scare him. The contractions seem closer and closer and I’m wondering if we will in fact go straight to NYU. When we arrive I thank the driver profusely, who is looking incredibly relieved to have made it to our destination (thought I wonder if he’s curious about our destination being a shop filled street in Soho instead of a hospital—I’m sure he’s thinking, really lady, shopping, now?!).
I’m feeling more and more like this could be it as I go into my appointment. I’ve been dilated for over 3 weeks, from one centimeter to two centimeters at my last visit, and the doctor said at 4 cm she’d send me in. At 37 weeks I had been told by another doctor to prepare to be early, that she was guessing the baby would be born by 39 weeks. So, five days past my due date, while having contractions, this seemed possible!
But no. “About 2 ½ centimeters…” the doctor told me. I’m pretty sure she gave me that extra half to be nice. “Why don’t you guys go walk around, sometimes that helps.” (Aaron and I were recently in Soho and got irritated all over again about this advice!) The contractions had slowed after leaving the cab. Just like I had been worried about, we were now in Manhattan faced with either going back to Brooklyn to then come back to the city later (read: 2 more car rides) or we had to “walk around” for an indefinite amount of time.
We decided to walk, stopping at my friend Alisha’s job to give her a set of our keys in case we did make it to the hospital. We hadn’t brought our bags, partially to not jinx things and because carrying them around could have (would have) been a giant pain. I think I terrified Alisha as I stood with her having contractions on the street corner and on the bench in Uniqlo. I had never really thought about what people do in a situation like this--- one of the few times where I can really see the value of living in the suburbs, with your own mini-van and a short drive to the hospital! Nope, it is not quite time for you to go to the hospital—why don’t you just hang out here, on the crowded and trendy street corner, while bending over in pain every five to fifteen minutes. No problem, right? Its New York, nobody will be phased by you.
Walking pretty much hurt. The movement escalated things, but they were still slow. It was not a nice day (the middle of February!). We sat down at a bus stop for a break. I had visions of walking for hours and making no progress and decided that we should go back to Brooklyn. Again, a painful cab drive, this time in a yellow taxi.
So listen—(future baby havers, maybe you should skip this part)—I don’t know if this says something about my pain tolerance (which is not high, I know that, I am a self proclaimed wimp) or if it is different for everyone, but I thought I was prepared for contractions. I thought they were going to be like really, really bad period cramps—like, times ten, or even times one hundred. But nobody said anything to me about the razors. Seriously, it felt like razors. From a dull ache to sharp razors. I was not prepared for that!
Back home again, things blend together. I spoke to Sarah, my midwife nurse friend who was my go-to for everything during pregnancy, who said to rest and eat while I could. Resting wasn’t so easy. Aaron forced me to eat macaroni and cheese and mandarin oranges—a lot of orange. I am pretty sure Aaron spent time working on his thesis or some type of school project, which is a little ridiculous when I think about it…but the contractions slowed even more, and the pain was steady. Sometime later in the afternoon I began to have a few incredibly painful contractions. I tried to do deep breathing, but at one point I just cried through a whole one. I had taken a class and was shown a bunch of poses that were supposed to be comfortable, all involving leaning forward, but all I wanted to do was lean back. I questioned my pain tolerance and wondered when the heck they were going to get closer together. Should I just pretend so we could go to the hospital? (Note to future baby havers—read this part—they actually monitor your contractions by machine once you arrive, so faking is not a good idea! It isn’t like when you faked sick to stay home in high school—they will find out and they will send you home.)
Eventually there was a blur of intensity of pain and speed of contractions. I vomited, and poor Aaron calmly cleaned up for me (the orange color becomes involved in the story again here!). I somehow got on new clothes and we called Kinnari and Richard, our pre-arranged hospital ride. Contractions were about four minutes apart now, and I became aware of the fact that I still had a 40 minute drive to factor in—how fast do contractions move? We called the doctor on call, and had to call again 15 minutes later, getting a call back from our own doctor because things were so busy at the hospital. This also comes up later.
When Kinnari and Richard arrived I slowly made my way down the stairs and into the car. As we drove, I am sure they greatly reconsidered their generous offer of a ride to the hospital—once again, the car ride was making the contractions escalate. I could hear Kinnari whisper “that was only two minutes!” to Richard, and a debate about which way to go and how fast to drive. I tried to keep from being too loud, though at one point K gave me a cheer when I yelled out a chain of curses. At the hospital Aaron helped me into a wheelchair and they took me up the back elevator, where at maternity we were informed that there were no rooms whatsoever, and we were stationed in the triage area. K and R brought up our things and left us in a little side room that gave us a bit more privacy than the other beds in triage, so we were lucky for that. I had thought that I wanted to have a natural birth, but somehow that vanished in the hours of contractions and I immediately requested an epidural, but was told I would need to wait a bit until I was moved into a room.
This period of time is a bit blurry, with contractions and at least one more time of vomiting, but eventually they realized that the hospital was so busy I was not going to get a room any time soon (I barely got a chance to see the doctor as she was in and out of other births), and sent the anesthesiologist in for the epidural. When he explained how I would need to lean forward on the bed, holding on to Aaron for support, and stay completely still as he injected the epidural in my back I almost panicked- the only thing I could do during contractions was lean backwards. I wasn’t sure it would be possible for me to do so. Leaning forward…staying still…while he held a needle to my back truly felt like the hardest thing I could do. Somehow I got through it, and over the next 20 minutes the pain transitioned to pressure. My nausea subsided, and I was able to rest. I was aware of my contractions slowing a bit, but they remained steady. Dr. Cho came in to apologize for how busy things were, and once again I was only at 4 centimeters. This continued throughout the night, until they decided to break my water and give me pitocin to try to speed things along. Again, this was something I was hoping to not have to do…but at this point having the baby seemed to be more of a goal than any previous goals I had tentatively committed to.
And then, as I was sitting there, and Aaron and I were resting, we hear, through the very thin wall of triage—a baby be born! I swear to god, the woman was in there for fifteen minutes. And I’m hearing “things are moving quick, you’re doing great, this is happening, push, push” and then “whah” and I pretty much think I’m dreaming or hallucinating baby movie montages until Aaron asks if I heard that, too! And I’m ashamed to say it, but all I can think is, man, that lady sucks- I’ve been here for hours!
From here on the hours blend together. I was finally moved to a room at some point on the morning of the 25th. The epidural wore off, and they re-drugged me, which made my legs fall asleep. But other than that- nothing changed. At around one o’clock, Dr. Cho told me it looked like nothing was going to change, and that she recommended a c-section. She had told me the night before she did whatever she could to promote vaginal deliveries. As she rattled off the host of warnings about the surgery, I felt…defeated? Frustrated? Like I had worked too hard for too long to do this now.
Aaron, who had been by my side the whole time, was taken to change into hospital scrubs, and I was taken in to the surgical room. This was the first time I felt like I was “the patient” rather than a person, as the staff worked around and on me while talking to one another. My anesthesiologist was really kind, and would tell me what was going on. They put up the curtain, and Aaron came in to sit by my head. He did NOT opt to watch the surgery (I wish I could have watched the surgery! Seriously—you can WATCH the surgery?). I was totally numb, pain wise, but could feel them “digging” around- it was entirely surreal. I could hear the doctor talking to her resident. At one point she said “why did you do that, I wouldn’t have done that so close” and I felt a strong urge to pull down the curtain and see what they were talking about. If any of your friends are doctors, remind them that the cloth they put up isn’t sound proof!
And then—I heard “look- there’s your baby.” Aaron was standing to see, and I was watching him. They took the baby to the corner of the room to be examined, and I was torn between looking over at her and watching the dazed, tearful look on Aaron’s face. I did something that was part laugh/ part cry. They were still working on me, but I was entirely distracted as I watched them work on Zoe, and then finally bring her over to us. Aaron held her, I looked at them both, and that was it- 3:10, February 25th, Zoe was born.
I had prided myself throughout pregnancy on not getting my heart set on anything in terms of a birth plan. I understand that the whole nature of the word plan is risky, and that you certainly can’t plan for a birth, and that to set myself up for disappointment was not something I wanted to do. So, I was detached, I decided I’d feel it out, see how things were going, and make no firm plans. But, as Dr. Cho told me her recommendation, I was aware of feeling so surprised, so disappointed- I don’t think I ever really thought I’d have to have a c-section. And I didn’t want to be disappointed, but I think I felt, and sometimes still feel, cheated, out of what I was supposed to feel or experience somehow.
And yet, I know firsthand that women who have c-sections are so strong, not just for the surgery, but afterwards, as they get to know their baby and how to be a mom while recovering from an operation that in any other case would result in total solo time. I try to remind myself that just as there are so many different ways to be a parent, there are many different ways to have a baby. And I am amazed, truly, looking at my scar to realize they lifted my baby out of me that way.
Plus, Zoe’s head was totally round and cute from day one on!
This is just another story of a baby being born- incredible to look around and think that for every baby, every child, there’s another one. But this one is mine, and Aaron’s, and Zoe’s. Happy birth day, Zoe Sylvia Swanson Hillebrand.
