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Birth Stories
Lucy Fae
I had an inkling that labor was going to begin fairly soon on Tuesday, eight days before my due date. I’d had Braxton Hicks contractions for days that were getting more uncomfortable, and on Tuesday morning I had a bit of bloody show while at work. I wasn’t SURE, of course, but I was getting some pain that made me think my cervix was going to make something happen. I ended up leaving early and finishing up work at home that day, but I told my boss I’d see her in the morning for a few hours, at least. It wasn’t REALLY going to happen RIGHT THEN, right
Then I went to bed at 11 and felt my first real contraction at 11:15 p.m. It was deep and painful, and well, I just knew. Plus, I remembered from the first time I’d been through this. After a few hours of contractions 12-15 minutes apart, I woke up my husband, Corey, to let him know that I was in labor – and beginning to bleat like a dying sheep. I got up, took a bath, laid with a heating pad, took a shower, etc. I didn’t sleep in between because they were getting fairly painful. By 6:30 or so we started to get up and get moving to see if that increased the contractions. Corey took Charlotte, my 2-year-old, downstairs for breakfast, and I decided to finish packing. Wow, it took me a really long time. Perhaps I should have prepared earlier? I called Kristin, my doula, and told her contractions were 6-8 minutes apart, and that I’d call when they were around 5 apart so she could begin her trek to our house.
Um, yeah, so only 30 minutes later, I called her back. “They’re 3-5 minutes apart, I just puked, and I feel like I have to poop.” Kristin said, “Hospital. Now.” We live 25 minutes from MCV, so we immediately headed for the car. This involved a little bit of frazzled, “Oh my god, drop Charlotte off at the neighbors, don’t forget a snack, where’s my bag, we need to GO … sort of stuff.” On Powhite Parkway, I realized I forgot the camera. “Corey, TURN AROUND! THE CAMERA!” Considering I was making the scary sheep noise every two minutes now, his response was, “ARE YOU CRAZY?”
Downtown, they wouldn’t even let us get to the front of the valet car parking line … I mean, clearly these people were not in LABOR! I jumped out of the car and puked in the bushes. Then everyone wanted me in a wheelchair, and I just said, “I AM WALKING.” (When you start to talk about things you said in labor, you realize they need to be written in all caps.)
We got to check-in, and I think it was a real feat to be able to explain to THREE separate people my entire surgery history. All I remember is repeatedly saying “TONSILECTOMY, 1983,” in between contractions. Then, joy of all joys, I was 6 cm! With Charlotte’s birth, I was only 3 cm after 28 hours, so after seven hours, 6 cm was a treat. We immediately got in the tub, where I got in my yoga phase. Literally, I didn’t say a word for one hour. (Goodbye, bleating sheep.) I sat cross-legged in the water in intense, silent focus. I remember hearing the nurse, Patty, Kristin and Corey talking about how it didn’t look like I was in labor. I remember thinking “You have no idea what you are talking about – this is the worst contraction EVER!”
After the tub, I was 8 cm, and I got on the birthing ball. For some reason, most of my pain was in my lower back (Charlotte was posterior, but this baby was not). It was also excruciating in my rectum. I remember saying that it felt like someone had stuck a dagger up my butt and was twisting it around.
Dr. Isaacs asked if I wanted my water broken, and we decided to go for it to speed things up. I was terrified, but breaking my water didn’t hurt at all … it actually felt nice. Until the next contraction came. I said, “I don’t think this was a good idea.” Kristin said, “What honey, breaking your water?” “NO, HAVING A BABY!” I said.
A little while later, I was complaining that I felt like pushing. I got up on the bed on all fours (well, on knees and elbows) and started pushing with the contractions. BUT… I will admit, I sort-of knew this wasn’t going to get the baby out. It was just that that position felt the best. (“Best” is a relative term at this point.) My labor team told me I could feel her head inside if I wanted, so I checked it out. Sure enough, there was a hard head up there. Practically in tears, I said, “There’s something small, hard and round up there!” “That’s your baby!” “No it’s NOT,” I wailed. “IT’S JUST MY CERVIX.” They thought that was funny, but I was CONVINCED that she was way way up there and had hours to go to come out.
A few pushes later and I realized I needed to get a little serious here. I mean, who else was going to do this for me? They got out the squat bar and I squatted with my arms over the bar. Oh, and my mouth BITING the bar. I did one insane push, “pushed through the pain,” as they said, and WHOOSH, she came down. Down into the so-called ring of fire. Wow, is THAT aptly named. Second big push, and her head came out. I do not deny that my next words at maximum shouting were, “GODDAMMIT! GET. HER. OUT.” Luckily, one fast push and I reached down and grabbed her, pulled her up and WHEW … I had a baby!
Lucy Fae was 7 lbs., 5 ounces and 19.5 inches long; born 6.18.08. What a freakin’ amazing rush. I just kept crying and shaking afterward, “I did it! I did it!” Not only that, but my labor team was the bomb. I didn’t need a heplock, they didn’t do external fetal monitoring (just intermittent doplar), no blood drawn, no urine sample, no unnecessary checking of my cervix. Just me and my labor, exactly as I wanted it. Now I need a year to forget about it before I decide to do it all over again.