November 3, 2016:
Three years ago today was my son, Will’s due date, so it’s on
ly fitting that I sit to write his birth story; a task I’ve been meaning to get to along with so many others for…well, approximately three years now! As I begin, I know that my story today is not the same one I would have told on the day he was born, or in the early months or even on his first birthday.
Time has a way of sanding the edges of our stories. As we tell and re-tell our stories, as we listen to our stories told by others and as we incorporate new perspectives, they evolve through the years and I am certain, that this is no different.
So, this is a retrospective birth story as true as can be on this date, in this moment. With some regret for not getting pen to paper sooner, I’m still grateful to be capturing it now.
So, November 3rd 2013 was my son’s due date…which not surprisingly for a first time mom, came and went! But, for various reasons (a favorable cervix, history of very fast labors for my own mother, provider and doula input), we had believed that there was no way I would go beyond my due date. In fact, we thought I would probably go early and fast! With that in mind, my husband had worked from home for weeks…we nested, we prepared meals, my legs were shaved, bags were packed, we had run out of things to watch on Netflix.
By the time November 10th rolled around, we were over it! Over the waiting, the anticipation and SO ready to meet our little guy. My mom flew into town from the east coast and the intensity of “waiting” went through the roof! I began to feel like he just really, truly, might never arrive.
So, on November 12th, I went to sleep and awoke with a nagging, dull and persistent aching back. After tossing and turning without relief, I climbed the stairs to the spare bedroom with a heating pad in hand and asked my mom to rub my back. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep and was awoken around 3 AM with a small gush of liquid between my legs. I thought certainly, I had wet the bed. Upon standing and waddling to the bathroom, I thought, certainly…my water has broken! The liquid was coming and coming…and I was screaming, “My water broke! My water broke!”
My mom came bounding down the stairs and together, we danced and laughed in socks wet from amniotic fluid…it was time! All I could think was, we are going to meet our baby!
I tried to rouse my husband, who being the calm, sleepy man that he is, said, “Oh, okay. I’m going to get some more sleep.” Which in hindsight, was a good call…we were in for a long day!
The contractions began coming, but they were irregular and disorganized, so I rested, I put on my mascara and braided my hair. I cuddled with my husband, I stroked our cat, I took the time to update my other family members and to take some selfies in a Depends…thanks to a good friend who gave them to me with a wink, “You might need these!”
Without wasting too much time, we called our doula, our doctor and headed to the hospital since we were anticipating a very fast labor. We checked in right at change of shift, 6:45 AM. Upon arriving, things really slowed down and overall, I felt well but slightly letdown with the decrease in progress.
Once we were checked in, we were told to take some laps through the hallways to see if we could get things going again. So we did, we walked and talked.
Throughout the morning, multiple nurses tried to convince me to get an IV (just a saline-lock) in case I needed/opted for medications or in the need of an emergency. I was committed to do my best to achieve an unmedicated labor with the least interventions possible. For me, as a medical professional, I felt comfortable refusing the saline-lock and ultimately, won the battle. I was grateful for my doula who encouraged me to stay true to what was important to me.
I tried to rest, but the anticipation was too great and I felt my adrenaline getting the best of me. My backache was what forced me to rest. I laid on my left side in bed while my mom massaged my back and my husband and I rested and talked.
By noon, I could barely stand my mom’s hands on my back, the intensity was too great. We called our doula and she joined us as things really began to ramp up.
As the physical intensity increased, so did my behavior. I was protective of my space. I ordered my mother and mother-in-law out of the room. I went inward, I swayed with my doula, I rocked, I held on tightly to the bar at the foot of the bed, I used a physio ball, I sat on the toilet…and oh my word…that was the most intense position, but also seemed to be the one where I made the most progress.
Initially, every time an intense contraction came, I fought it, I winced away from it, I shut down. Gradually, I had to learn to welcome the contractions, I had to learn to fight the urge to resist, to fear, to brace myself against the discomfort.
I stayed so completely connected to my doula throughout this process, eye to eye, body to body, she was my guiding light and I surrendered by putting all faith in her. Following her instructions, we took one contraction at a time–focusing on my breathing and by staying completely present.
At 4 pm, transition came and sent me shaking, shivering, vomiting and holding on for dear life. I was checked and found to be completely dilated and ready for pushing–what a relief! My OB walked through the door at that moment and I couldn’t have been happier to see her face!
We tried a variety of positions without much luck at all. This went on for quite awhile before we realized that Will was “sunny-side up” (in a direct posterior position, meaning that the widest part of his head was presenting). This was NOT optimal for delivery. We tried a few different lunge type exercises to see if we could encourage him to change positions, my OB even tried my manually rotate him with her hand and all without success.
7:30 PM (3 1/2 hours of pushing…)
I was beyond exhausted. I was continuing to push all the while, but making very slow progress, I felt like I was in an alternate reality–almost as if going in and out of consciousness although I wasn’t.
The world felt gray, blurry, cloudy all around me and I felt as if I was drifting away. I remember thinking, “I’m going to die. And, if this is how I die, then alright. Just let my baby be okay.” I looked at my OB and asked, “What are my options?” I followed it quickly with, “Cut him out.” I wasn’t thinking about drugs, I never wanted drugs, I just wanted him out.
My doula recognized exactly what I needed in that moment, she got very close to my face and said, “Maura. It’s not time to go to sleep.” But, I was sooooo tired. I felt my body shutting down, I felt my mind and my spirit shutting down. Despite this, with her words (that really kind of pissed me off, but motivated me), I began to find new energy.
More than that, it was my husband. He came close and whispered in my ear, “Honey, get mad. This has gone on too long. It’s time to meet our baby.” I remember looking at the clock on the wall and it was just after 8 PM. I started thinking about all of my family members (in different time zones throughout the world) who were waiting to hear the news of Will’s arrival. I thought, they must be worried sick! And, it was like a light switch. That quick, that resolved. It was time.
I went deep within myself to a place that I never knew existed. I pushed with ALL OF MY MIGHT. I refused to move and reposition in between contractions despite the prompts from the medical team. I suddenly knew exactly where I needed to be, what I needed to do, how I needed to push to meet our baby.
I ended up delivering from flat on my back in the bottom left corner of the hospital bed with six people holding my legs back after 4 1/2 hours of pushing. They told me he was coming and I reached down. I felt his head in my hands and with absolutely primal instincts, I helped to deliver my baby, bringing him right to my chest.
It was the most intensely beautiful moment of my life. Going from feeling like I was dying to successfully delivering my baby boy, feeling his little hands in mine, his mouth move to my breast for the first time, his first squeaks and cries, yawns, eyes barely open. There is absolutely nothing that could compare.
Each day and year since this one has brought more joy, more surprises, more love than I ever could have thought imaginable. Thank you, William for making me a mother and for loving me as we stumble and soar together!
Happy 3rd Birthday, to my sweet boy!
