Erica’s Hospital Birth

For most of my pregnancy, I struggled with elevated blood pressure. At each appointment, it gradually kept rising. On March 9th I went in for a routine prenatal visit. My blood pressure was still elevated so my midwife decided that I needed to be induced on March 18th at thirty-seven weeks.

Over the next few days, I had two NSTs and an ultrasound to make sure our son was still doing well. I was in shock knowing that I was going to become a mother three weeks earlier than I originally thought.

I had wanted to spend as much time as possible laboring in the comfort of my own home before going to the hospital and having a drug-free birth. Now my plans were being changed drastically. I was worried that induction would make labor too intense and I wouldn't be able to cope on my own.

I was also worried that this was the beginning of the road towards a c-section. That one intervention would lead to the next. I had no other symptoms of pre-eclampsia, other than elevated blood pressure, and wondered if we were making the right decision. Would inducing labor be riskier than waiting for him to come naturally?

The last week leading up to the induction flew by and we told almost no one what was happening. I didn't want the extra pressure of people knowing when we were at the hospital and asking for updates. My plan was to have Tom, our doula, and another doula who need birthing hours for her training at the hospital with us. To me, birth isn't a spectator sport and I hate being the center of attention.

On the day of the induction, I wanted to do something fun before my entire life changed. We went out for crepes with my brother and his girlfriend and then I tried to go home and relax. But I was so anxious I couldn't sit still. I ended up pacing for most of the afternoon.

Eventually, it was time to leave for the hospital. I cried most of the way. I couldn't stop worrying about what was about to happen. While we were parking the car, there was a man loading up his car getting ready to bring his new baby home. I would have given anything to trade places with this man and be on the other side of this getting ready to bring our son home.

After checking in, the hospital checked my progress (2cm) and started my induction by placing Cervadil next to my cervix. The plan was to leave the Cervadil in place overnight and review my progress in the morning. Within thirty minutes I started feeling small contractions and was fascinated. I finally understood what a contraction felt like. I tried to sleep but the bed was uncomfortable, I was hooked up to a fetal monitor, and a blood pressure cuff was checking my blood pressure every hour. Sleep was nearly impossible.

The next morning my midwife stopped by to check on my progress. I had progressed to 3cm and they decided to wait an hour and see if my body would continue to progress on its own. Unfortunately, it didn't so they started me on a low dose of Pitocin. I had steady contractions throughout the day and the hospital slowly increased the Pitocin dose. At this point, my contractions were mild and manageable. Whenever I felt one I would close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing and keeping my body relaxed. I had read that if you keep your hands loose and relaxed that the rest of your body would stay relaxed as well.

I felt like my progress was very slow and started to dread cervical checks not only because they were extremely painful but they were also reminders that I was barely progressing.

Because of the Pitocin and my blood pressure, the hospital wanted me to wear a fetal monitor at all times. Unfortunately, the hospital's only wireless monitor was broken so I had to remain tethered to the wall. I felt like a caged animal pacing back and forth in the short six-foot space that the cords would allow.

I walked, did squats, bounced on a birthing ball, and changed positions. Trying anything I could think of to help my labor progress.

Later that afternoon my midwife suggested that we try breaking my water. I was reluctant because I knew once my water broke the hospital would start a twenty-four-hour countdown. I was also worried about how much more intense my contractions would become. I felt like I was managing well so far but didn't know if I could continue to cope as the pain increased.

At this point, I called my doula and asked her to come to the hospital. I felt like we were going to have to start making some decisions and wanted the extra help and support.

During my next cervical check, my water broke. My contractions became much stronger and I had to really focus on relaxing through them. This is when the midwife started weaning off Pitocin so my natural labor hormones could take over.

All of my contractions were centered in my lower back. With every contraction my doula would squeeze my hips, the second doula would massage my back, while Tom sat in front of me holding my gaze and my hands telling me I was beautiful and strong and could do anything. Honestly, I have never felt more in love with him than I did in those moments.

In between contractions we would all collapse and rest until the next one started. I felt like I had been in labor forever and that it would never end. It had probably been about 24 hours since my first contractions.

Tom turned on a playlist I had put together of some of my favorite songs while I tried to relax and rest as much as I could. There were two songs that played that I will always remember. Jack Johnson's “Supposed to Be” was the first one. My labor wasn't going how I pictured and this song really helped me to let go and acknowledge that even though this wasn't my plan it was still ok. This was how it was supposed to be.

The second song was “In the Garden” which was my grandma's favorite hymn. I don't believe in ghosts but since my grandma passed away there have been moments when I have felt her presence near me. While her hymn was playing my hospital door opened on its own. I looked at Tom and knew he was thinking of her too.

There have been several times when doors have opened during important moments for my family and our running joke is that it is just grandma joining us. The birth of her great-grandson is something she wouldn't have wanted to miss. Thinking of her helped me calm down and brought me peace and strength. Women give birth every day my own grandma did so five times. If they could do this, if she could do this, so could I.

Eventually, my contractions started to feel unbearable. Everyone kept asking me what I wanted to do and suggesting new positions for me to try. My only answer was “baby out.” Every time I moved another contraction would start. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and stay still.

I felt myself giving up. I didn't know how much longer I could continue. I told myself that I had come this far I could hang on for one more contraction and when that contraction ended I told myself I could make it through one more.

Finally, the hospital let me unhook from the monitors and step into the shower for a bit. I prayed that the water would bring me some relief. It didn't. I think at that point my labor had already progressed too far and that I was entering the transitional stage.

My midwife did another cervical check and said that I was almost there but that my cervix was dilating unevenly. She thought my son's head was not fully engaged. She asked me to give a couple of gentle pushes to see if he would adjust his position. On the 5th small push, I felt him slide down.

The urge to push became overwhelming. My midwife told me I needed to wait and couldn't push until they had everything set up. What felt like one hundred people rushed into the room and every light was pointed at me. They kept fiddling with the lights trying to get the best view. I didn't care I didn't need to see what was happening to push my son out.

They gave me a few pointers for pushing but otherwise let me decide when, how, and for how long I wanted to push. I laid on my left side while my doula helped me to hold my right leg up and against my chest. My goal was to push as hard as I could three times with each contraction. I could feel some burning as my son moved down and thought about pacing myself to minimize tearing. But at that point, I didn't care I just wanted labor to be over. I knew that once my son was born the contractions would stop.

Pushing after being in labor for so long felt like a huge relief. Finally, I was an active participant with some control rather than reacting to and trying to manage contractions as they came. With my third contraction and eighth push, Sebastian was born straight into Tom's arms. Tom compared it to catching someone flying down a water-slide.

Sebastian was laid on my chest and I was so relieved that everything was over. I just kept repeating “he's out, it's over” over and over again while I waited for my body to stop uncontrollably shaking. I felt like I was in shock. I couldn't believe that this tiny baby on my chest was mine.

They told me he was born at 5:36 am and was 6lbs 4oz and 19.5in long. I had to ask what day it was. I had lost all track of time. It had been about 33 hours since my first contraction.

They were a little worried about his color so they took him to the other side of the room to clean him up and take care of him. I had a second-degree tear that needed to be stitched up. Tom was across the room and I told him I was ready to switch places. I had already done all of the hard work and wanted to be staring at our son rather than lying in bed receiving stitches.

After my stitches were done they told me I could take a shower if I wanted to. Everyone wanted to help me get out of bed and walk the few short steps to the bathroom, but I felt like Wonder Woman. I felt amazing and like I could run a marathon even though I have never run one before. I also wanted a little bit of privacy and alone time after being surrounded by people and naked and on display in front of who knows how many.

Looking back at photographs I know I must have been exhausted but I could not fall asleep. My mother -in-law called. She desperately wanted to come to see her grandson. I told her ok as long as she brought me a huge plate of sushi. I was starving and it had been months since I had eaten sushi.

The rest of our time in the hospital is a blur of friends, relatives, nurses, and doctors coming in and out of our hospital room. It felt like there was always something we needed to be doing every moment of the day. There were lactation consultants trying to help with breastfeeding, tests and procedures for Sebastian, and additional care instructions and blood pressure checks for myself.

On Thursday afternoon just over 48 hours after Sebastian was born we were told we could go home. The feeling of walking out of the hospital as a family of three is indescribable. I was happy to be going home where I could sleep in my own bed and life would hopefully be calmer and quieter. I was also nervous my son was only two days old and Tom would be going back to work on Monday.

It helped to know that we had a support system in place. Our doula promised to be in touch, my mom said she would stop by a couple of times a week to help, and Tom's mom and siblings all lived within five minutes of our house.

We drove home, introduced our dog to our son, and ate some lunch. Tom left to pick up some pain medication for me and I curled up in a recliner ready for the adventure of parenthood to start with Sebastian asleep on my chest and our dog curled up next to my legs.