Her Birth Story and Deep Breathing: Part II

Here is where it starts to get more graphic. I didn't want to leave anything out because every moment, every contraction, every moan, and every movement was so incredibly beautiful and important to me. I loved the intensity of birthing my daughter. This will most definitely be TMI for some of you, but you can't say I didn't warn you.

And onto the story...

So there we were, in the middle of an argument about a plastic cup and my water breaks. We were in the basement family room, aka "Man Cave," and I was sitting on the couch when it happened. I immediately jumped up and was like "I think my water just broke, or I peed...a lot." I rushed to the tiny basement bathroom, which is basically just a toilet and a shower head with a drain in the floor, and took my pants off. Yep, I was standing over a tiny shower drain as amniotic fluid was dripping down my legs. I yelled for Zach, who was most definitely dumbfounded in the other room, and told him to Google, "What does it feel like to have your water break." And he did. I'm standing there, bare ass over this drain and my husband is Googling how it feels to have your water break. Clearly we're millennials. Google it.

I then waddled up the stairs to the nicer bathroom and called my mom while standing in the bathtub. She was beyond excited but told me to still call the doctor before heading to the ER. They told me to come in immediately. But before we left, I showered. If I was about to deliver this baby after working outside all day I needed to at least feel clean...there's no telling how long labor will take. While showering as fast as I could, Zach was running around the house, taking care of the pets, packing the car with mine and the baby's hospital bags, which I luckily packed the day before, and trying to gather his own stuff as well. Keep in mind, we had an artist with us for Project 1612, the alternative art space we run, and he was outside working this entire time unaware of the excitement inside. Zach ran outside and told him my water just broke and good luck with the exhibition. I put on a red sundress and swimsuit bottoms and made my way to the car. As I'm sitting there waiting for Zach to grab the car seat and base, I snapped a quick picture of him running from the house to the car. This was one of the most thrilling moments of our life. Like holy shit, we're about to be parents!

It was about 5 pm when we backed out of the driveway and started calling our family. Each time I said, "We're having a baby, headed to the hospital now, Zach will keep you posted." When we arrived at the ER, bags and video camera in hand, they put me a wheelchair and took us to the triage room. Sidetone, this is where the story begins to get more graphic. The nurse had to check how dilated I was, which at that moment was about 3 centimeters. I needed to be 10 to start pushing. She also used a PH strip of sorts that would turn blue when exposed to amniotic fluid. I laid back on the bed and when she went to check me, a gush of fluid leaked all over the floor. She was like, "alright, that's that". The strip was blue. No need for further confirmation, it was time to have this baby.

We were then moved to our labor and delivery room, which thankfully was larger than we expected. By that time, I was in a beautiful hospital gown with a fetal monitor band wrapped around my belly keeping track of the baby's heart rate and my contractions. They were now coming every five to six minutes, lasting about 30 seconds or so. I went over my birth plan with the nurses, which consisted of me telling them not to offer me any sort of pain reliever, especially not an epidural. Nothing against pain relievers, I just wanted to do this on my own as much and as long as I could. I was more terrified of the thought of a needle going into my spin than a baby coming out of my vagina. They only had one question, and that was in case of something going terribly wrong would I be okay with them taking over. Yes. Definitely. Keep the baby safe.

My youngest sister Emma was the first to arrive. For fun, she started keeping track of my contractions on her phone while I took care of some work business since they were still mild. Like I mentioned in Part I, I had just finished teaching the day before but still needed to enter grades. So I emailed the other faculty to let them know the baby was arriving and they would need to cover for me. And just the week before, I had accepted a job offer as the Gallery Curator at a local college, so I had to email my new boss that I needed to postpone my first day, because well, the baby was arriving. In hindsight, those emails could have waited, but I knew I would be too tired afterward to think about my to-do list. And most of all, I needed my mind and body to be void of distractions so I could focus all my energy on delivering my baby.

The rest of our family started to arrive. My parents and three-year-old nephew, my two other sisters, my mother-in-law, my father-in-law and step-mother-in-law; little by little the room as became smaller. There we all were, anxiously waiting for her. My contractions started to intensify, becoming longer with shorter periods in between. I was able to move around the room because of the fetal monitor band and because I asked not to be hooked up to the IV unless needed. Again, I didn't want anything distracting me from this moment. As contractions intensified, my breathing deepened. I had made up a breathing pattern earlier in the week where I thought of my breath as a circular motion, coming up through the birth canal, into my heart, to my mind, and out into the universe. I read only one mother-to-be book throughout my pregnancy and it was Ina May's Guide To Childbirth. That book changed my thoughts on labor, on pain, and my body. One thing that stuck out to me most was that I needed to unify my mind, body, heart, and soul. So I did, the best I could, through my breath.

With my contractions growing stronger, the nurse had to check how dilated I was. This meant our family needed to step out of the room for a few minutes, leaving Zach and I alone. We talked about how I was feeling and at that point I was still upbeat, managing the pain with my slow, deep breathing. I was dilated a little more, I can't remember exactly at this point, so I am going to say like 5 centimeters. Then our family came back in. I told them they needed to be quiet when I had contractions since they were getting stronger; they were respectful of my needs. The room would be nearly silent, just the sound of my breath and my nephew playing. At this point, I was trying different standing and sitting positions to move the baby down. I remember sitting on a birth (exercise) ball with Zach behind me, rubbing my lower back with his hands trying to relieve some of the pressure. Or standing face to face with my hands holding his shoulders as he pushed in a downward motion on my lower back. That all helped, but the pain of contractions increased, and I needed to let me guard down even more.

When the nurses came back to check my cervix, I asked to take a shower to help me relax. I didn't know how it would go but remembered it was encouraged in our Lamaze class as a way to loosen the mom up, calm her nerves, and it seemed to help. So the nurse took my hospital gown and monitor off and Zach helped me into the shower. The water felt great, I could feel my body relaxing, almost instantly. Zach stood just outside the partly opened curtain watching me, making sure I was safe. I put my hands on the shower wall and leaned forward into my contractions, pushing my hips backward and breathing deep. I felt in sync with my body. And as the water rushed over my skin I began to moan. I told Zach to tell our family they couldn't come back into the room, my contractions were too intense and I couldn't be distracted. After the shower, I needed help drying off and decided to stay naked. Clothing felt too restrictive. I went straight for the ball, sitting and circulating my hips with Zach behind me helping me balance. Honestly, the whole thing felt sexual to me, and I was embracing it. I began moving my hips in wide circles, breathing low into my abdomen, and moaning even deeper. This was the best way for me to manage the pain, the stretching of my ligaments and muscles. It helped relax my body to allow the baby to move further down. I never cried or screamed during my entire labor. I was not intentionally not screaming or not crying, it's just that those reactions didn't seem natural in the moment. The only thing I could do was make low, animal-like moaning and groaning sounds, sounds that I didn't know I was capable of making.

Then I moved to the bed and got on my hands and knees, again Zach behind me, this time rotating my hips for me. The nurse kept trying to check my blood pressure, but every time she strapped the band on my arm I would get another contraction. I ripped that thing off my arm probably five times before telling her to stop, it wasn't going to happen. Up until that point my whole experience felt very primitive, instinctual; I had listened to what my body was telling me and felt guided by the night. The contractions were powerful and vivid, but I began to fade. I asked one of the nurses for an analgesic to help lessen the pain. She agreed and helped me move onto the bed. My contractions were so incredibly intense that I curled up into a fetal position and gripped the sidebar, writhing with each one. As soon as they were about to add the analgesic to the IV, the baby's heart rate dropped. And I needed oxygen.

To be continued.