09.30.2008 | 11:34 am | Uncategorized
My 2003 mommies group had a recent discussion regarding “the issues”, i.e, the hot political and social issues of the day. I was wary to answer them, mostly due to time restraints, but since I’m laid up in bed with a lovely case of mastitis, I found myself typing this out yesterday in my boredom. So, here are my answers. Be aware that, as a Libertarian, my answers are all based on a “Give me Liberty or give me death” point of view.
Some of the questions (and/or their wording) were rather slanted at times, but I tried to answer them as well as I could.
Abortion
Should it be criminalized?
Ideally, I believe that it should be illegal, but sadly, that isn’t ever going to happen. I firmly believe it should be out of the federal gov’t’s hands, though. Each state should be allowed to make their own decision regarding the legality or illegality of abortion, as well as the regulations attached to it (and IMO, where it is legal, it should be carefully regulated & very limited).
(My actual beliefs about abortion are complicated, and I may venture one day to explain them. But here I’m only answering in a “what should government’s role be?” type way.)
Birth Control
Should it be legal?
Yes, of course
Health Insurance
Should the government step in to regulate/ provide health insurance for all Americans?
Absolutely not.
Taxes
Should taxes be lowered for the middle class? Should those making over $500,000 have their taxes raised?
Yes, definitely, and no, definitely not, respectively. EVERYONE should have their taxes lowered, and permanently. And people (esp those with dependents) making less than a certain amount–say 20 or 25k– shouldn’t pay taxes at all. My real belief is that there should be NO income tax at all. Taxes choke the economy and lower everyone’s standard of living.
Diplomacy/ Security
Is a strong President one who is both willing to use military might, but only after all forms of diplomacy? In other words, should our next president be concerned about our reputation in the world?
Yes to the first question, in most cases. The second question is a bit loaded. Concerned about our reputation? Not overly. Perhaps “relations” would be a better word. I think s/he should strive to have good relations with other countries, but never to the detriment of our freedom, safety, or prosperity.
Budget
Should the budget be balanced?
Absolutely. Drastically cutting spending would achieve this easily.
Environment
Should the next President be committed to reducing our dependence on oil?
Yes. Especially foreign oil, but domestic as well.
Should they have a high rating with environmental groups?
Nooooo—anyone who does is likely someone I would run far, far away from.
Do you agree with Al Gore about the status of global warming and the effect of fossil fuels?
Not at all.
Education
What do you think of No Child Left Behind? Do you think that it should be overhauled and funded?
Complete disaster. The fed gov’t should get completely out of the education system.
Do you think that it is the Federal Gov’s job to provide an equal education to all students?
NO.
Are you in favor of vouchers?
Yes, at state level
Are you in favor of GI’s and individuals giving significant contributions to their communities being able to get a college education?
For GI’s, yes, as an incentive to serve in the military.
Should college education be affordable for all students at some level?
Not at taxpayer expense. There are plenty of ways for anyone to get private grants and/or loans, not to mention simply choosing a low-cost college. Some people (like my brother, along with help from the GI bill) also choose to work their way through.
The Bush/ Cheney Legacy
What is your general opinion of their work in office?
I have no real opinion on Cheney.
Bush: I really like him on a personal level. I think he has a good heart and genuinely cares for everyone, even those who hate him just for being alive. I like that he attempted (and somewhat accomplished) cutting taxes and managed to do some deregulation.
His biggest failures have been no child left behind, as well as his tendency to grow the government (which I am 100% against)…he was a huge disappointment to me in these ways. Would I vote for him again? Yes, based on who he ran against…he was the better choice as far as Liberty is concerned, and I always vote for Liberty and freedom (or, for who will protect it most/damage it least).
As for the war, I find it too complicated to go into, and since I’m not educated in military matters, my opinion is rather moot—in other words, I feel that I have no place to spout off about complicated issues that I don’t fully understand, despite what my personal feelings about it may be.
Edited to say: I want to add Bush’s support and pushing of the horrendous, socialist, state-takeover “bailout” bill to his list of dismal failures as President. I’m almost as angry at him for pushing this as I am at the rest of the socialists who came up with it. Thank God (literally), it failed.
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09.22.2008 | 4:42 pm | Natural Pregnancy & Birthing, Desmond
Apologies for the length. It’s rather interesting, though. 
Part II - The Induction, The Labor, The Birth
Tuesday, September 18
11:30am-The Ride to the Hospital
We were on our way. As we headed down our road and out onto the highway, I could hardly ignore what a beautiful day it was. The weather was amazing—the first fall-like day of the season—the sky was bright blue, the humidity was low, and even though it was warm, there was a cool breeze blowing. The lovely weather was a contrast to the anxious thoughts running through my mind. I mentioned earlier how worried I was that I would throw up once labor really got started. On top of that, I was nervous about having to submit to what was more or less an induction of labor. I was scared of the potential complications that Pitocin is so notorious for. I was even more scared that things wouldn’t move as quickly as Dr. C-section wanted them to, and I’d end up being his next victim. I was scared of the probability of throwing up (Oh wait, did I already mention that? See?). And yes, I was just a tad scared of the pain that I knew was coming, especially if it turned out that Jenny was wrong and Pitocin really did make contractions unbearable like everyone says it does.
Philip knew I was filled with anxiety and fear, and he began praying as he drove. He prayed for safety for both me and Desmond, for a quick labor and delivery, for protection from any dangers related to Pitocin, for protection from a c-section and protection from Dr. C-section himself. He prayed that I would be able to have the natural labor and delivery that I wanted and had prepared for, he prayed that everything would go smoothly in every way, and he also prayed specifically that I wouldn’t throw up. What a great husband I have!
12:00 noon- Checking in, Getting Started
We arrived at the hospital at noon; I remember taking one last look up at the gorgeous blue sky and the billowy white clouds, making a point to burn the sight of it in my mind so as to remember this day and its details forever. We had to check in at the emergency room desk. That took way longer than it should’ve taken, as the receptionist wasn’t in any hurry, despite the fact that Jenny had called ahead and let them know we were coming and that we needed to be processed ASAP due to the situation. I was anxious and wanting to get up to L&D and get things started; I also wanted to get the heck away from the ER patients who were all around us. She finally got us processed and escorted us to the elevator with directions to L&D from there.
When we arrived at L&D, they were ready for us and took us right to my room—L&D 6, the same room in which Grayson was born! I went in the bathroom to change out of my clothes and into the dreaded hospital gown. While I was in there, my doula, Nora, arrived. When I came out, the three of us—Nora, Philip, and myself—talked for a few minutes while waiting on the nurses to come in and get started. I gushed all my fears and worries to Nora, who listened and comforted me with her calm presence. She also assured me that she’d attended labors where Pitocin was administered, and the moms did fine handling the contractions naturally. She also agreed that Dr. C-section was everything Jenny had warned us about. She told us he was also known for talking down to all the nurses, to Jenny, to herself, and to laboring women. She proposed a prayer, and the three of us joined hands. She prayed over the entire labor and birth, including a request that Dr. C-section wouldn’t get a chance to interfere in any way with my birthing experience.
A nurse came in and got me set up in the bed; they would do the obligatory monitoring strip while I was asked the laundry list of questions that are standard at a hospital birth. I had to sign release forms for all the standard procedures that I was refusing: no Hep B shot for Desmond, no eye ointment, etc. To my surprise, I didn’t get much lecturing about all the things I was declining (I did at Gray’s birth, so I expected it this time as well); perhaps it’s becoming more common for informed parents to refuse these things. I was also prepped for the IV which would soon deliver the dreaded Pitocin. I hated the fact that I would have an IV; even though I’d have a pole to wheel around with me, I was still bummed that I wouldn’t be completely free like I had been during my labor with Gray.
Melissa
I wasn’t long before Melissa, the main nurse who would be attending me, came in. I liked her immediately. A former doula and in her 50s, she respected natural labor and my desire to have one. She also caught on immediately to how scared I was. She began by sitting on my bed, directly in front of me. She took my hands in hers and looked me directly in the eyes as she asked me to tell her what I was worried about. One by one, she went through each concern, explaining to me exactly how she would do things. She would start the Pitocin at “1″ and would increase it by one unit every 20 minutes, depending on how I responded to it. She promised me that it would be a gradual increase in contractions, so that I’d have time to get used to them and be able to handle them. She assured me I could handle the entire labor with no pain medication. She asked me about my first labor and how it had progressed. She said she’d do everything in her power to get things going and to
have my progress looking wonderful by the time Dr C-section came in later
that afternoon. She soothed a lot of my fears and gave me confidence that I could do this, and I could do it the way I wanted—without any further intervention. With that, she got up and said that it was time to get started. And this is where my labor begins.
2:00pm- Pitocin administered, labor begins
Melissa started the Pitocin, and gave me my first cervical exam.
…3cm dilated, 70% effaced…
Not too bad. Not as dilated as I’d hoped, but everyone said it was really good, especially the effacement.
I stayed sitting up in the bed at this point, because I felt no contractions at all. I figured, why get up until I had to? I could use the rest until the pain got to the point that I needed to move around. So, we all sat and waited on my contractions to kick in. Philip, who’d not eaten all day, decided that this would be a great time for him to go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I sat with Nora and we talked about random things, mostly about Gray. I started to have some contractions on the monitor, and although I did feel them, they were mostly painless tightening. When Melissa, who was checking in periodically, heard this, she talked me into bumping up the Pitocin a couple more notches. Since I’d had some time to feel what it was doing (or rather, not doing), I felt comfortable increasing the dosage. I was ready for real contractions to start up…nervous, but ready.
Within a few minutes, I started feeling them—strong tightening, just a little bit painful. I still didn’t feel the need to move through them, so I stayed parked in bed. There was a knock at the door, and to my surprise, it turned out to be Susan, my LC from back in Gray’s breastfeeding days. We’d not seen each other in over three years, but there she was. She told me she’d seen my name, along with Gray’s, on a list for the sibling class a couple of weeks earlier—that’s how she’d known I was pregnant, and she’d been keeping an eye on the L&D registry ever since, hoping to see me when I came in to give birth. So here I was, and she happened to be working that day and came to see me. She sat and talked to me for a while, coming up with a plan in case Desmond was born with sucking issues (a possibility since he was just barely 37 weeks). She was going to have the rest of the week off, but she told me that if we had even the first inkling of a problem with nursing, to tell the lactation department to call her, and she’d try to come in and help me personally. It was while she was there that my contractions started to pick up. I was definitely starting to feel them now; they were getting stronger and painful, and I was having to stop talking and concentrate on getting through some of them.
3:00pm- Oh yeah, I’m definitely in labor
I decided it was time for me to get up and out of bed. Contractions were now coming strongly, every 3-5 minutes or so. They were painful now, but still quite manageable. I sat on my birthing ball right next to the bed, with Philip sitting in a chair in front of me, Nora standing behind me and rubbing my lower back. Susan stayed for a little while longer, but left pretty soon after 3pm, with good wishes and a reminder to let her know ASAP if we had any problems nursing. I continued rocking and rolling back and forth on my ball, which felt wonderful this time around. I was happy to stay there, since it was working so well. I had them turn on the television, and I watched Dr. Phil to keep my mind off of my ever-increasing pain as much as possible.
4:00pm- Okay, please stop turning up the Pitocin!
Dr. Phil ended, and Oprah followed. I continued laboring on my ball while I watched Jenny McCarthy talking to Oprah about her son and autism. Normally that would bore me, but I focused hard on what was being said as I rocked gently and relaxed in between contractions. During contractions, I would rock rhythmically and deeply, and breathe in the same way—deep, controlled breaths. Nora continued rubbing my lower back during contractions, and Philip stayed sitting next to me. The contractions were steadily becoming stronger and stronger, harder and harder to endure, especially at the end of some of them. I remember starting to feel annoyed at Philip and Nora, because they were having a conversation and whenever I would start to get a contraction, I’d start rocking and breathing, but they were oblivious and kept talking. Then about 30 seconds in, they’d realize I was having one and would suddenly start coaching me through it. I wanted to yell at both of them, “Hello! Pay attention to ME, please!”
Because of the IV, I was having to go to the bathroom pretty frequently. Going to the bathroom while in labor is no fun at all. It was a pain in the neck to drag the IV pole in there with me and to get my lovely mesh panties down while not disturbing any of the IV lines attached to me, and then to actually pee and then get everything pulled back up and situated properly. Add in that I was having to stop and manage my way through frequent strong contractions, and it was pretty miserable. I have to say that the IV and the problems it caused for all of my bathroom trips was one of the crappiest parts of my entire labor.
Melissa came in to turn up my Pitocin, and told me she wanted to up it
a little more this time. I responded that I was already having some very
strong contractions, thank you! She noted that they were indeed good and
strong, but she said she wanted to get them to come more frequently;
she wanted to get them to where they were 2 minutes apart (or less). I
felt panicky about that, because I felt like things were strong enough
already. I was managing well but was scared of it getting any worse. But somehow, she talked me into it, encouraging me that I could do it, telling me how great I was already doing. She noted that Desmond was also handling the contractions very well; I remember her exact words as she pointed to his heart rate reading, “…And you’ve got just the happiest baby in the world!”
The contractions continued to pick up, both more painful and closer together. Nearing 5pm, they were getting pretty rough, and I finally felt like I needed to stand up to manage them. I stood facing Philip and hung onto him with each contraction, both of us swaying together as I breathed through them. I could still stand and chat in between, but as soon as I felt another contraction coming on, I would hold out my arms to signal to Philip that I needed to hang on him again.
5:00pm- Jenny, Walking Halls, Fast Progress
I heard a familiar voice coming in the room, and there was Jenny. She greeted us by telling us she’d just talked to Dr. C-section. “I told him you were in a good active labor pattern, the baby looks great, so he’s satisfied—for now.” Whew!
She and Melissa spent a couple of minutes murmuring about their disdain for Dr. C-section, and I tried to listen in while I hung on to Philip and weathered another contraction. Jenny put on her sterile gloves and told me she wanted to check my cervix. I was filled with dread as I agreed and headed to lie down on the bed. There are few things worse during labor than having to lie on your back, but even worse than that is having cervix check. She waited until I was done breathing through another contraction, then told me to hurry and lie down so she could hopefully check me and have me standing back up before the next contraction hit. We rushed into position and she did her thing. She announced my progress:
...5 cm dilated, 90% effaced…
I did my best to hurry and stand back up, just as the next contraction started rearing its ugly head. I went back to hanging onto Philip while we rocked through each one. Melissa was back in the room to turn up my Pitocin, which I begged her not to do. I was in hard labor and in lots of pain—I didn’t want it to get worse. She bumped it up a notch anyway, telling me that once they got to 2 minutes apart or less, she’d turn it off. I remember being upset about that, but not able to say much because I was almost constantly trying to get through another contraction. I kept pointing to the monitor and saying, “But look, see how strong that one was? Please don’t turn it up anymore!” I remember them chuckling at me, and Jenny walked over to the monitor and turned it away from me so I couldn’t see it. She told me not to worry about the monitor, just to focus on each contraction one at a time. I was annoyed because I didn’t think it was funny, and I felt like no one was listening to me when I was telling them to hold off for a while.
Jenny explained that she had to rush home to help one of her kids with something, but that she’d be back quickly.
Someone suggested that I go out and walk the halls for a while. I thought it was a great idea, so off we went, Philip at my side and Nora pushing my cursed IV pole. The halls had that handy railing running along the length of the wall, which is perfect for leaning on and rocking during contractions. And that’s exactly what I did; we would walk a few dozen feet, then I’d hit the railing and start rocking back and forth, breathing methodically. Nora would give me great counterpressure throughout, while Philip helped me just by standing there with me. We made our way down the hall, past the nurses’ station, to the far end of L&D, and then back again. Stopping every few dozen feet for contractions, I tried to focus on something, usually the handrail on which I was hanging. I remember thinking quick little thoughts like, “Whoah, I remember this. Labor hurts. Man, it hurts. I can get through it. I did it last time. Oh man, it hurts.“ I also prayed quick little prayers, asking God to get me through each time.
As we started round two back down the hallway, I started getting less and less break time between contractions, which meant more frequent stopping to hang on the handrail. As we slowly made our way past the nurses’ station, Melissa called out to us and waved. I responded by begging Philip and Nora to “Please don’t let her turn up the Pitocin. Please, please.” They laughed at me and told me she was still at the nurses’ station and not to worry.
We got to the end of the hall and I spent a couple of contractions looking out the window at the courtyard and parking lot. It was still such a beautiful day. I found it both comforting and surreal that there were people walking down there, hurrying in and out of the hospital, driving by, going about their day, while I was up here going through one of the most painful and most poignant times of my life.
I could feel labor really kicking into high gear—it was shifting to a new level, getting to the point where the pain was terribly intense and it required lots of concentration to endure. I began experiencing a familiar feeling from my labor with Grayson; it’s hard to describe, but it kind of felt like everything inside my lower body felt raw, like organs rubbing together, intensely uncomfortable even between contractions. Walking exacerbated this feeling, and I began walking with a distinct waddle, as if to cushion some of that raw sensation. I wanted to get back to my room and try hanging over the bed; anything besides more walking. Unfortunately, we had a long trek down the hallway in order to get there, and it seemed almost impossible that I would make it.
I would make it a few feet before I would dive toward the handrail and immerse myself in the business of riding out yet another intense contraction. Each one was requiring all my mental strength, something that Nora picked up on, because I heard her saying to Philip that she suspected I was really progressing fast, due to the quick change in how I was handling things. We passed the nurses’ station yet again, and I weakly begged Philip, “Please tell Melissa not to turn up the Pitocin. Please. Tell her how bad it’s getting.” He told her, and she called out to me, “Girl, I’m not turning up the Pitocin anymore.
It’s done its job. You’re doing great!”
Nora told us to continue heading toward the room; she was going to take a bathroom break and would be back soon. Philip and I were nearing my room, and as I stopped yet again to hang on the rail, this time I felt something distinctly different—something I remembered clearly from my labor with Grayson.
As the contraction squeezed, I felt the bizarre sensation of downward movement deep in my pelvis—shifting, dropping, popping—like massive gas bubbles moving down. And along with that sensation, I realized with trepidation I was also starting to feel nausea at the peak of the contractions. I told this to Philip, who did his best to comfort me because he knew how anxious that made me. I rode a couple more contractions out while hanging on the rail outside my room; I focused hard, prayed for help with the pain, and for help to not throw up!
The nausea kept coming along with each peak, but I also realized that I had to…um…(TMI ALERT)…poop. So, I went back in the room and I…um…pooped. I mentioned earlier that peeing was quite an ordeal, having to weather contractions while dealing with the various IV lines and clothing items, but it’s nothing compared to pooping. I’ve read that some women like to labor on the toilet. I am not one of them. It was really, really rough in that bathroom, and there’s no delicate way to describe it, so I’ll just move on. There’s no way I’ll forget those hellacious toilet contractions, anyway. The good news is that “going” helped to alleviate the nausea, at least for the time being.
6:00pm- Transition
I managed to finish up in the bathroom, and when I came out, Nora had raised the bed and put some pillows on it so I could try leaning over on that. I tried it for the next contraction and hated it. I paced back and forth, shook my head and said, “No, I don’t like it, I don’t like it!”. The pain had suddenly ramped up to an incredible level and I felt out of control. Nora asked me if there was any other position I was thinking of, and I replied, “No!” She asked if I’d like to try something else (I can’t remember what) and I answered, I don’t know! I don’t know!” I was so agitated I was flapping my hands, because I was filled with so much anxiety over the next impending contraction.
Nora calmly said, “I’m going to go get Melissa. You’re looking to me like you’re transitioning.” I realized that she was right! I was filled with hope that got me through the next few minutes until Melissa came in to check me. She gave me the dreaded orders to lie down on the bed, which I did, and she announced my cervix to be…
…8 cm dilated, 100% effaced…
“You’re almost there!” cried Nora, “You went from 5 to 8 in only an hour!” I took heart, and I took heart even more when Melissa turned off the Pitocin for good, and said she was going to go call Jenny (who still wasn’t back).
The irony of the Pitocin being turned off was that the most intense contractions of all started hitting right about then. From this point on, things got pretty wild.
The pain was nearing unbearable as the contractions came slamming at me, one on top of the other without much break in between. I went back to hanging onto Philip and rocking through each contraction as we stood together in the middle of the room. I was facing the windows tried to focus on the view outside. It was
of the opposite wing of the hospital, just bricks and windows, but
there was blue sky up above, and it was a nice focal point. However, I ended up spending most of my time burying my face into Philip’s chest as I attempted to breathe my way through the brunt of each contraction.
Typical of transition, these contractions were brutal, and breathing through them was no longer helping at all. So I started vocalizing—involuntarily—as each one peaked with fierce intensity. Nora put her hands on both of us and prayed out loud every few minutes. As she prayed, I found strength and drew from it. I felt God holding me together, even as it felt like my body was being ripped inside out. My “vocalizing” got louder each time until I was pretty much yelling through each contraction. At first I felt embarrassed, because that’s so unlike me, and I hated to be that woman—the yelling, raving woman in labor who scares all the first-time moms and annoys all the nurses. But Nora stood beside me and encouraged me to vocalize, to let out whatever I needed in order to endure the pain. So I yelled, and wow, did it help! I don’t know how, but it did…probably because it helped me to finally just let go and “ride” the contractions.
6:20pm- Pressure
This intense scene I’ve just described only lasted about 15 minutes. At about 6:20, I started feeling a growing pelvic pressure with each contraction. I gasped to Nora, “I feel pressure”, and she immediately called for Melissa. “I bet you’re complete, or very close to it,” she said, “Melissa’s on her way to check you.” I also realized that I had a very full bladder, since I hadn’t been to the bathroom in a while. I told Nora I wanted to go to the bathroom really fast before Melissa checked me. I slowly waddled into the bathroom, stopping for contractions, because I literally could not walk or even move when one hit. Nora called after us (Philip was with me), telling me that if the pressure increased, I needed to let them know immediately.
Through blinding contractions, I finally managed to use the bathroom and get the mesh panties back in place. I use the term “blinding” almost literally, because they were coming so fast and with such intensity, I can barely remember anything I did or how I even managed to complete my goal. What I do remember very clearly is this:
Before I could begin my agonizing walk out of the bathroom, I stopped to hang onto Philip and “vocalize” through another contraction. As I rode it out, I felt a dramatic increase in the pressure I’d felt just a few minutes before. And it was more like a pushy sensation than pressure. I cried out to Philip, “Oh my gosh, I’m pushing!”
He was totally calm and said something about going to get Nora, but I clung to him as another pushing sensation gripped me. This one was intense and I started to panic, yelling, “OH MY GOSH, I’m PUUUUSHING!”
Nora heard the commotion and came in the bathroom. “Don’t push yet!” she said, “Let’s get you out of the bathroom!” But I couldn’t move, because another wave of pushiness was washing over me. These contractions were suddenly no longer painful (at least, they
didn’t feel painful after the agony I’d just endured through
transition), but were replaced by the sudden and tremendous urge to push. The sensation was incredible, and even though I tried to be a good girl and fight it, my body was pushing. I let out an involuntary grunt as my body pushed against my will. When Nora heard that, she turned and dashed out of the room to find Melissa. Very shortly after, both she and Melissa came running into the bathroom, with Melissa instructing loudly,
“Cam! DON’T PUSH!”
“I’m trying!” I moaned, as I hung there on Philip, scared to move for fear of causing another wave of pushy contractions.
“You’ve got to get to the bed so I can check you,” Melissa said as she unwrapped my arms from around Philip’s neck. I tried to turn and go with them, but another wave hit. I tried to fight it, but all I could do was GRUNNNNNNT loudly as it took over.
Panic ensued. Melissa and Nora each grabbed one of my arms and started pulling me toward the bathroom door. I gasped and GRUNNNNNNTed again.
“DON’T PUSH!” Melissa instructed frantically, “DO NOT PUSH! You can NOT deliver this baby on the tile floor!”
I cried out that I was trying not to push, but that I couldn’t stop and couldn’t move. They began pulling me out of the bathroom door, and somehow I put one leg in front of the other and managed to walk somewhat, despite the mighty pressure and the sensation of a huge head bulging downward from inside. Melissa and Nora kept pulling me forward, guiding me to the bed. It was quite a commotion, and it makes me laugh when I look back.
6:30pm- HOLD THAT PUSH!
They got me on the bed and Melissa checked me…
…10 cm dilated, 100%, and “his head is right there“…
No kidding on that last part!
And here came another contraction, complete with another tremendous urge to push—and to my horror, it was also complete with a tremendous surge of nausea. Immediately, Melissa grabbed my shoulders and told me to breathe through the urge and to NOT push, since Jenny was not there yet. I was near-screaming when I said, “I can’t stop!” She had me turn onto my right side and bend up one of my legs, then she started coaching me to say, “Hee, hee, hee,” which was RIDICULOUS, with the magnitude of the urge I had. Still, I tried my best to stop my body from pushing, and I tried my best to say “Hee” (which came out as a huge grunt—”hEEEEE“, because my body was literally heaving involuntarily)…all in vain.
And the nausea. Oh my, did it hit. As the contraction peaked, I felt extreme nausea that equalled the urge to push. I cried out that I felt sick, and Nora got a garbage can and held it next to the bed. As I stared into the garbage can, my mind was in total panic—I was going to throw up. Only a fellow emetephobe knows what a frightening realization this is. I was mortified. But thankfully, as the contraction subsided, so did the nausea. I was relieved, for the moment, but I knew this would all repeat itself in another minute, when the next one came.
Melissa took advantage of the calm to tell me that I had to continue breathing through each contraction and resisting the urge to push, until Jenny got there. She had just spoken to Jenny right before she’d come in the bathroom to get me, and Jenny was on her way to the hospital then. She would be here any second, but until then, we had to hold off the birth. Supposedly it was so that I wouldn’t tear, but I’m not so sure that’s the reason. Surely someone there knew how to do perineal massage; Nora definitely did, although she was forbidden to perform any medical procedure.
Nora brought me a blessed cold washcloth, which I’d requested to be available to me in the case of nausea. She had a pan of ice water and plenty of cloths available. I had my beloved cold cloths, just like my last labor. I just hoped it would do the trick to keep me from throwing up!
I got to test it out right away, because here came the next contraction. I buried my face in the cloth as the urge to push came over my body, stronger than ever…along with a fresh wave of nausea. Melissa was right in my face yelling at me not to push, and I tried to fight it once more, to no avail. This was undoubtedly the most overwhelming, intense, and primal thing I’ve ever experienced! My lower body was heaving mightily, which was causing my digestive system to feel like doing the same—I was quite sure this time I would throw up, and to my surprise, I decided I would give into it, should the moment come. The strange thing is that I realized that what I was experiencing actually felt just like throwing up, complete with horrible, all-consuming heaving—it was simply my lower body doing it instead, and it was propelling things downward, and with even more force. I even sounded like I was throwing up, as I involuntarily heaved out the “hEEEEEE“s that Melissa was coaching me to do. Philip got a kick out of this, by the way. Ever since then, he likes to imitate the scene in both Melissa’s voice, then mine:
her: “Say ‘Hee. Hee, Hee, Hee…”
me: “hEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” (extreme degree of gruntage applied)
her: “No, Cam. Hee.”
I made it through that massive pushing contraction somehow, and once again, I didn’t throw up despite the very close call. During the minute of rest time before the next one, I went inside my mind and made a decision. I was no longer going to fight the urge to push. It was just too much…it was pure torture, it wasn’t working anyway, and it felt wrong. Granted, I didn’t want to tear, which I ran a risk of doing if I gave birth before Jenny was there to prevent it. But I just couldn’t fight something that consuming any longer. So I decided that I wouldn’t make an effort to push, but I sure as heck wasn’t fighting it anymore. I was just going to give in to it and ride it.
And, I did. The next contraction hit, Melissa got in my face and yelled “Hee” at me, and I humored her by saying “Hee” a few times, but I didn’t resist the pushing urge at all. I just let it happen. My body pushed, but at least without purposeful pushing on my part, I didn’t put myself in danger of tearing. Melissa was freaking out and saying, “DON’T PUSH! HEE! HEE!“ But I just kept riding the urge, letting my body do what it was clearly set on doing anyway. It didn’t take away the horrible, all-consuming raw feeling of all my pelvic muscles heaving, but I wasn’t in pure misery trying to fight it, either. It felt right, like the natural thing to do, and I’m glad I did it.
6:40pm- Finally! Push!
I went through one more contraction like this, just letting go, and
even though the nurses around me were panicked, I was more calm than I had
been before, when I was fighting it.
And then at last, Jenny arrived. She came dashing into the room, washed her hands while being updated, and got her blue cover-thing and gloves on. Someone finished breaking down the bed, and Nora helped me to turn over and get into a good sitting position. Jenny did a quick check and said, “Oh, he’s right there. Are you ready to push?” (LOL!)
She didn’t have to ask me twice. I grabbed my legs just as another contraction started. Jenny told me to give a nice, long push, which I did. I bore down with all my strength, concentrating on putting pressure in the right place. Just like Gray’s birth, I felt such a huge presence of baby there, and it felt like pushing wasn’t budging it. It did, though, because after a couple of long, strong pushes, I was greeted with the lovely burning, stinging sensation that accompanies the baby’s head crowning. The burnin’ ring of fire, as Mr. Cash would put it.
Jenny told me to push again, and I did. The burning intensified to a near-unbearable degree, and I cried out, almost screaming. Jenny coached, “No, don’t do that; concentrate!”
“It stings!” I cried, to which everyone seemed to sympathize. Jenny coached me calmly to push more gently now, not strongly. It was so difficult to push through the fierce burning, but I forced myself to do it anyway. I yelped again, got reprimanded, took a deep breath, and continued pushing slowly. It hurt so badly, I thought for sure that I had torn or was tearing good. Just then, Jenny said firmly,
“Okay, stop. Don’t push.”
I obeyed her and stopped, taking the moment to catch my breath. The burning continued, although it subsided substantially. I thought she must be heading off a tear. What I didn’t know was that Desmond’s head had delivered, and his umbilical cord was wrapped twice around his neck. Jenny was skillfully and calmly unwrapping it at that moment, Nora told me later. I was unaware, thankfully, because I would’ve panicked had they told me then (and Jenny probably knew this, since she knows me!).
6:47pm- Birth
After a moment, Jenny told me to push again, gently, a “little push”. I did, and within a few moments, I felt the release of Desmond’s body from mine. I love that part. That amazing feeling of a little body slipping out quickly; it’s such a contrast to the massive, consuming presence of the head just a few minutes earlier.
I looked down to see that most amazing sight: A baby, pale and grasping, being handed up between my knees, and then placed on my chest.
And there he was. No words describe that moment, and I won’t even try. I just looked at him, amazed that a real baby had just been born into the world—and he was mine! I burst into tears, blubbering as I touched him and looked at him. I don’t remember much that went on around me. I just held him.
I held him for ten minutes, during which time I delivered the placenta. Once the placenta came out, and his umbilical cord stopped pulsing, Philip cut the cord. Jenny examined me and declared that I hadn’t torn at all, not even close. I was surprised, given the pain as his head was crowning, but I was thrilled that I was intact.
I held Desmond for a couple more minutes until one of the nurses insisted he be taken to the warmer to be observed, as he was grunting and that concerned them. The nurse tried to stimulate him or whatever it is they do, to get his breathing straightened out. He wouldn’t stop grunting, so they decided he needed to go to the nursery for observation.
I was upset, since I’d wanted to nurse him immediately, and they wouldn’t let me. They were afraid if he began suckling while he was still grunting, he would aspirate fluid. The nurse promised me that as soon as he was stabilized, she would bring him to me in my recovery room so he could nurse. Philip accompanied him to the nursery in order to make sure none of our wishes were violated, like no shots and no bottles/water/formula. It ended up being a two-hour stay in the nursery until he was breathing normally, plus he also had to have that CBC that his pediatrician had ordered as a compromise regarding the prolonged rupture of membranes (the CBC came back normal, we stayed 48 hours, and all was fine).
I finally got to nurse him over two hours after his birth—just after Grayson got to meet him. Despite the long wait to finally hold him, nurse him, and introduce him to Gray, it was a special night. We were a family of four, together at last.
Looking back
My official labor lasted 4 1/2 hours, from the time Pitocin was started and contractions began. I went from 3cm-5cm in 3 hours, from 5cm-8cm in 1 hour, and from 8cm-10cm in about 20 minutes. In other words, that last hour & 20 minutes of labor was rather intense.
The time that I was not allowed to push was a total of about 10 minutes
Once I was allowed to push, I pushed for about 4 minutes, and I pushed a total of 3 or 4 times.
No tearing, thanks to Jenny and whatever she managed to do during those 5 minutes or so she was there before he was born.
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09.17.2008 | 9:24 pm | Natural Pregnancy & Birthing, Desmond
At last! It took a year, but I finally got it done. I broke it into two parts. I had to, with the way things happened. My water broke on 9-17-07, and I went 36 hours waiting for labor to begin. It finally did, but only after I gave up and went to the hospital to be induced/augmented. So I feel like there are two parts to Des’ birth. Part I is from rupture of membranes up until I went to the hospital. It covers what all we went through that day as I waited in vain for labor to start, and it covers my meeting with Jenny (my midwife) and what made me finally decide to give in and head to the hospital. Part II covers the actual labor from start to finish at the hospital.
I’m posting Part I today, since today is one year since my water broke and it all started.
I’ll post Part II tomorrow, on little D’s first birthday!
Disclaimer- It’s long. And, it’s long-winded. ‘Cause that’s how I roll. I can’t tell any story briefly. Besides, it’s my personal account of all that happened. I want to remember every single detail of those two days, so I made sure to write down every single detail. It will likely be boring to most, but since I don’t have time to write an abridged version, the long version is all I have to share.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Desmond was born on Tuesday, September 18, 2007 at 6:47pm. He weighed 7lbs, 5.5oz and was 19.25 inches long. His birth was much like I had envisioned it, but with an unexpected twist. I experienced premature rupture of membranes (PROM) at 37 weeks gestation. Put simply, my water broke, but active labor failed to follow. Wanting to avoid unnecessary intervention, I stayed home for 30 hours, doing everything within my power to get active labor to kick in—to no avail. The most I could get going were hour-long bursts of very irregular contractions, but they would always fade away. When day two rolled around, under great pressure from my midwife, I finally submitted to pitocin augmentation in order to get labor going. However, despite having to give up one of my wishes, I declined all their other interventions and I ended up getting to having the satisfying natural birthing experience that I’d planned all along. The following is the story of how it all unfolded.
Part I - My water broke! Um, why am I not in labor?
Tuesday, September 11- The week before it all happened, at 36 weeks, I had what would turn out to be my last regular prenatal visit. I was 50-60% effaced and dilated a fingertip. Baby was at -1 station in my pelvis, where he’d been for weeks (walking was quite a challenge). I was disappointed in my (lack of) progress and planned on taking EPO once I got past 37 weeks. I never got the chance to take it…
Sunday, September 16- I’d finally reached 37 weeks, and I’d spent the weekend making final preparations for the baby. I’d washed and folded baby clothes and diapers, and I had miraculously found some space in Grayson’s dresser drawers, which are now shared by both boys, in which to put all Desmond’s stuff. That night I sat and made a list of things to pack for the hospital, something I felt compelled to do right then (there’s something to be said for instinct—not only was I onto something this time, but I had also done the same thing just two days before Grayson was born). After doing the list, I browsed some natural birthing articles on how to use EPO to ripen the cervix, and decided that I would start EPO the next day. At around midnight, I went to bed. Which brings us to…
Monday, September 17, 12:00am-3:00am
I went to sleep quickly, but soon afterward, I was awakened by some rather strong cramping. I’d not had any cramping at all in this pregnancy, so it immediately stood out to me as something different. I was very tired, though, and before I could give it much speculation, I fell right back to sleep. But soon, I was awakened again by more cramps. They were definitely coming at intervals. It occurred to me to time them; I looked at the clock, but I was so sleepy that I kept drifting off in between them.
This restless sleep-wake cycle went on for a few hours. During one bout of crampy wakefulness, I had a cramp accompanied by what felt like a tiny gush of fluid—but as many pregnant women know, random gushes of fluid are not uncommon during the last weeks of pregnancy. Nothing else followed, so I ignored it and drifted back to sleep for a while.
3:00am- POP!
Once again, I was awakened by another cramp, then another. They were becoming stronger and accompanied by some tightness. I came to more awareness and started wondering if I should be concerned. Philip was up late working, and I considered going to tell him what I was experiencing, but I decided to wait till he came to bed. Not long after this thought, I felt another cramp. This time though, there was a very familiar sensation along with it—an internal “pop”—and it was followed by a gush of fluid that couldn’t be denied.
I knew immediately what had happened. I jumped up out of bed and started a dash to the bathroom—memories of my water breaking with Grayson made me know that I did not want this to happen on the bedroom carpet! But this time, I was spared the dramatic tidal wave that I experienced with Grayson. I had just gotten past the bed when everything let loose, but I moved fast and most of it stayed on my legs until I got into the bathroom, where I gave the tile floor a minor flood. I had called out for Philip on my way into the bathroom, and he showed up quickly. I pointed to the wet floor and his eyes got big as he said, “Ohhhhh….” It was 3am.
As I sat in the bathroom, we had some discussion of what we should do next. At the moment, there were no more cramps. No contractions, either. We decided to call my doula, Nora, and find out what she recommended. I had decided to use Nora only a week before; I knew that since I wasn’t going to be able to give birth at the birth center, that I would need the extra support in the hospital. We’d hit it off immediately. She’s around 60 years old and has 10 children, most of whom were born at home, and she’s been working as a doula since the 1970s. Her advice was to take a warm shower and if I was still not having contractions, to go back to bed and try to sleep. Labor was sure to start soon and I’d need the rest.
I took a shower, got a few things packed, and went back to bed. During the time I was up showering & packing, I had a bout of painful contractions that were 3 to 4 minutes apart. I was excited and thought for sure this was the start of my labor, but unfortunately, after a half hour, they stopped. Disappointed, I went to bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t sleep. I had irregular contractions for the next few hours as the sun came up, but they never organized or kept any kind of timeable pattern.
Daytime- Come on labor, start!
Soon it was morning, and Grayson was up for the day. Philip fed him breakfast, while I got up and tried to get my labor going. I was gushing amniotic fluid every time I changed position, so I kept a folded towel between my legs as I moved around, and I had to change it often.
Nora called back to see how things had turned out since we spoke last. She was disappointed to hear that labor had not yet begun. She told me I should call Jenny (midwife) at this point and let her know that my water had broken. Now, the last thing I wanted to do at this point was to call Jenny. Because due to the protocol of her practice (run by OBs), she would be required to send me to the hospital and start an induction, and I would be on a race against the clock, since they want a baby delivered within 24 hours after membranes rupture. None of this is in line with my belief in unmanaged birthing, because it doesn’t make sense. The 24-hour rule is arbitrary and as long as the fluid is clear (mine was), the mom’s temperature is normal (mine was), and the baby is faring well (he was), there’s no reason to rush to deliver the baby. Everything I’ve read in my research into normal, natural, unmanaged birth has confirmed that when all these other factors look good, a woman can go indefinitely with ruptured membranes, and still deliver a healthy baby once her body actually goes into labor on its own. In most cases, labor will begin spontaneously within 48 hours of membranes rupturing, without need for intervention.
I’m trying to stay off my soapbox, while at the same time give a good explanation of why I wanted to give it more time and avoid the hospital for at least the first 24 hours. To put it in basic terms: There was no way I was going in that day, unless I hit definite active labor or unless something appeared to be going wrong. So I put off calling Jenny until I could wait to see if my contractions would pick up and become regular. In the meantime I kept a close check on the baby with the doppler, a close check on my temperature, and stayed hydrated.
I did everything I could do to get labor started. I bounced on the birthing ball, walked around the neighborhood, and used several alternative methods. Contractions would start up and stay anywhere from 2 to 10 minutes apart, but they would never last more than an hour or so before petering out. Soon they’d start back up, but they continued being irregular and sporadic. This on-off cycle continued all day long. The contractions were strong and painful, and a day full of them was very tiring. I made several failed attempts at napping, because I was also exhausted from not sleeping the night before. At this point, labor was coming soon one way or another, and I knew I needed to get some sleep before then; unfortunately I was unable to sleep, because I was getting quite upset at what was happening—or rather, at what was not happening.
That evening, I finally decided to call Jenny and tell her what was going on. After she asked some initial questions (was it clear fluid? Was I monitoring my temperature? etc.), she said, “I am required to say, that you should go to the hospital since your water has broken.” I told her that I didn’t want to go to the hospital yet, for the reasons I stated above, and because I wanted to do everything I could to avoid Pitocin augmentation. She understood my not wanting to go in, but she was very careful in the words she chose, and she reiterated that she was still “required to say” that I should go to the hospital. I told her that I wanted to wait to see what happened overnight, since I’d had some more regular contractions recently and because I was just then starting to experience bloody show. I really felt like I would go into active labor on my own during the night, and she agreed it looked promising. She told me that if I chose to stay home, I should continue monitoring my temperature overnight, as well as continue monitoring the baby with the doppler. She told me to come into her office the next morning and let her re-evaluate the situation at that point.
Between 7 and 10pm that night, I thought it was finally happening. I began having contractions 2-3 minutes apart, and they were good and strong. But just as I was getting excited about them, they died out. Completely.
By 11pm I was exhausted from such a long, frustrating day. As the 24-hour mark began to approach, I started to worry about the situation. I didn’t want to risk harm to the baby, but I also didn’t want to go and get hooked up to Pitocin and take on all the risks that come along with that. Taking any drug or having any intervention was the last thing I wanted for myself or for Desmond, but at the same time, how much longer was I comfortable waiting—with ruptured membranes—on active labor to begin? I was scared and confused about which choice to make.
Philip and I prayed for wisdom and guidance, and for protection for Desmond, as we waited through the night until my appointment the next morning. We prayed that active labor would start up overnight, but that if it didn’t, that he’d guide Jenny in helping us make the best decision in the morning when we saw her. We prayed that I would be able to sleep in preparation for the impending labor that we knew was coming one way or another. As God has done so many times in my life, he answered my need; I fell asleep not long after 11pm and slept until 7am. He knew I needed that sleep!
Tuesday, September 18- Birth Day!
When I woke up, I felt so refreshed! But I also realized that I’d spent the entire night not having contractions at all. As I got ready for my appointment, I noticed the absence of any contractions. There was nothing happening. Other than the constant trickle of amniotic fluid, it felt like just another day being pregnant—not exactly what I wanted at this point. We prayed again that in going to see Jenny, God would send us a clear answer on what to do.
10:00am- Visit to Jenny’s Office
The three of us (me, Philip, and Gray) arrived at Jenny’s office at 10am. I was still not having any contractions at all. She wanted to do an internal exam to check for dilation, but I refused. She did an ultrasound, which showed that Desmond was doing fine, and even though most of the amniotic fluid was gone, there was still plenty left around him. My body was continuing to produce exactly the amount of fluid he needed, despite the constant loss via the PROM. My urine test, however, revealed that I was dehydrated, despite the gallons of water I’d been drinking—unfortunately, the constant turnover of amniotic fluid was straining my body. Jenny wasn’t happy about this, and she especially wasn’t happy about my resistance to going to the hospital.
She sat down angrily and asked me what I planned to do. I told her the main reason I’d come in was because I was hoping that she would have some advice. Her response was that she recommended that I go to the hospital immediately and have my labor started with Pitocin. Of course, this was one of my worst fears, so I asked her if there was any other way to avoid that route.
Under Pressure
She reminded me that it had been 31 hours since my water had broken, and that at this point, she was afraid for Desmond’s well-being and my health as well. She told me she understood my wanting to avoid intervention, but with the situation being what it was, I had no alternative if I wanted her to still be in charge of my labor & delivery. If I waited any longer, it would be out of her hands and she wouldn’t be able to protect me from the OB in charge of the L&D that night at the hospital. She added that this particular OB happened to be the most c-section-happy OB affiliated with the hospital, and that when he saw my stats he likely wouldn’t even let me labor without a fight. I asked, was it that serious, and she said, “YES. I won’t have any say in it because of how long you’ve gone with your water broken. But, if you go now, and I mean now, and if we can at least get you in a good labor pattern by the time he comes in at 5pm, I can probably hold him off. If you wait, I won’t be allowed to handle your labor, and you’ll be at the mercy of whatever OB is working whenever you do decide to go in.”
She added another sobering point: Because of the prolonged ROM, the hospital protocol would be to automatically keep Desmond in the hospital for 10 days on prophylactic IV antibiotics. Lovely. This thought was devastating to me, and it was one of the last things I wanted to happen. She put in a quick call to my pediatrician, who thankfully said that as long as I delivered today and Desmond appeared healthy, he would waive that policy and would instead “only” require a CBC at birth, followed by a 48-hour hospital stay until the CBC results came back. As long as Desmond didn’t have a fever, and as long as the CBC came back clear, he would release him in 48 hours without antibiotics. But the catch was that I had to go in today.
I remember taking a deep breath as all this set in. I hated the pressure, and I hated how even when a woman is informed, they still have ways to effectively force women into doing things they don’t want to do. I had tried so hard to inform myself and to be prepared for anything that came up. But I also realized that if I wanted the healthy post-birth situation that I dreamed of, I was going to have to give up my ideal birth situation. However, I still had a couple of issues I wanted to address.
I argued that I was scared to use Pitocin because of how risky it is for the baby, as well as its strong link to c-section. She assured me that she’d never recommend it to me if it wasn’t truly needed, and added that she was hurt that I didn’t trust her enough to know that she would never push Pitocin in the typical way.
So then I confessed my fear of how painful labor would be under the influence of Pitocin. I still had no intention whatsoever of accepting an epidural, so the thought of dealing with augmented contractions was pretty scary. She explained that labor is labor and that it hurts the same either way. She said that if it’s administered properly, labor feels no different with Pitocin than without. All the horror stories from women who say the pain was unbearable are either from women who had been given too much too quickly with no chance to gradually get used to the contractions, or they were from women would never labor without an epidural anyway, so their analysis should hold no bearing for me. She said she’s had plenty of women labor naturally while under Pitocin augmentation, and they do just fine handling the contractions without meds. She said she had no doubt that I’d handle it fine too, especially since she’d seen me handle natural labor before.
The Decision
At that moment, I knew I had the answer I’d prayed for. It was settled with me. With another deep breath, I told Jenny I’d go to the hospital and I’d take the Pitocin. She asked if we were going straight there. We said no, because we’d need to take Grayson home and arrange for his Aunt Leslie to come stay with him. She looked at the time (it was around 10:30 am) and said that she’d much rather we go straight to the hospital and let Aunt Leslie come get him from there and take him home—she felt it was that urgent. However, this wouldn’t have worked for us, so we told her we’d have to take him home first, but that we’d call Leslie immediately and have her be at the house as soon as possible, and we’d head for the hospital just as soon as she got there.
Jenny stepped out for a few minutes and came back to tell me she’d called L&D and hand-picked the nurse who would take care of me. It just so happened (though I know it wasn’t coincidence) that the best natural-birth supporting nurse was working that afternoon—a former doula—her name was Melissa. Jenny made sure she’d be the one assigned to me when I arrived. She promised that Melissa would take good care of me and would respect my desire for no interventions other than the Pitocin.
10:30am- We left her office with Jenny reiterating that we needed to waste no time getting to the hospital and getting everything started, and that 5pm was the deadline for me to be in at least an active pattern of labor. We rushed home, calling Leslie on the way, and she immediately left work and headed to our house. We got home and I ate lunch—leftover chicken and rice. I was very anxious about the impending induction of labor, so eating was hard, but I forced myself to do so because I knew it was the last meal I’d be allowed to eat until after Desmond was born. Also, every single bite made me wonder if I’d be seeing that meal again later in the afternoon, because one of the biggest fears weighing on my mind was that I would throw up during labor. Not only was this a real possibility because I’d come very close (oh so very close!) to throwing up late in labor with Grayson, but I was also worried that the Pitocin effect would somehow make nausea more likely—either through the augmented contractions, or just from having a strong drug running through my system. I have quite a phobia of throwing up (understatement), so the possibility of that happening was very heavy on my mind as we prepared to head to the hospital.
11:30am- Goodbye
Leslie arrived quickly, Philip got our stuff in the car, and I said goodbye to Grayson. That was hard. This goodbye was monumental, though he didn’t realize it. But I did. I was saying goodbye to my only child; the next time I saw him, he would not be my “only” anymore. He would be one of two. A big brother. His life was about to undergo a drastic change. All of our lives were about to change, and that change was just a few hours away.
To be continued…!
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The Issues
