I don't know if my birth story will help anyone and I don't expect anyone to get inspired by it. I don't think I did anything incredible by doing what I did, but here's my story for those of you who want to read it. If you're not pregnant/into graphic detail, this is not for you. Stop reading now. Seriously, you'll get grossed out.
I had the worst pregnancy. I didn't get hospitalized, but I should have. I'd thrown up so often that it was dark orange and turning black. My urine did the same thing. It was pretty much the hardest thing I've ever had to do ever and it made me 100% comfortable with my body. Crazy as it sounds, with the constant doctors appointments and poking and prodding and getting to know myself again as I rapidly expanded... I honestly don't care who sees what anymore. The only reason I cover up now is because I don't want to make OTHER people uncomfortable.
So after this terrible pregnancy, about a week before I gave birth, my mucus plug started coming out. For those of you who haven't read everything on the subject yet, it's basically a chunk of mucus that plugs up your uterus so bacteria can't get to the baby and the baby can't come out. At first, it was just thick vaginal discharge with some grey in it. I freaked out, of course, but since there weren't horrifying contractions, I didn't think anything of it. I'd had contractions a few times before (3x) and it happened pretty early in the pregnancy. They made me want to stab a knife through my back just to make the pain go away. I didn't have that yet.
On Thanksgiving, I started cramping every few hours. It felt like period cramps, but I was still able to cook and clean and talk through them, so I didn't think anything of it. The next day was Black Friday and I lost even MORE of the mucus plug; this time it was tinged with red so I figured it was going to happen in the next few days. I wasn't overly worried. I had been cramping on and off, but everyone and everything online, in the books, and with people I'd talked to said that kind of stuff didn't mean squat since you could have cramps 5 minutes apart for 3 hours and still not be in 'full swing'. We kept walking. I had a timer on my phone and my Kindle to time my contractions so I could let my Mom know when she could drive the 6 or so hours to come up. My husband and I would walk for a few minutes, then I'd have to stop for the cramps. It was hard to talk, but I could still do it. I felt like I had to call my Mom, though, so I did and let her know things were probably going to go down soon so she should come up here, but not worry about rushing since it might not happen tonight. She left at 6:30 and got to the hospital at 10:30.We met some friends of ours while shopping and they said, 'When's the baby coming?' and we said, 'Any day now!... Ha ha... irony...
After Walmart, we came home and I died in bed. My husband heated up some corn bags (like rice bags) for my back since it was killing me. I napped on and off for a few hours and forced myself to drink water. I couldn't eat though. I didn't really want anything. I told my husband that I could wait until midnight (since my Dad kept bugging me to hold off until then to make sure I got the extra 1/2 night at the hospital without getting charged extra) and to put the stuff in the car. By now, it still hadn't hit that I was in labor.
About 9:30, it becomes unbearable: the contractions are one on top of the other and getting more intense. Think like when you're kissing a guy and the motions are the same but suddenly the kiss becomes intense. Like that. I'd lost a bigger chunk of my mucus plug (definitely had red) and I could barely grunt through the pain. I definitely wasn't trying to talk since all my energy was on putting emotional pressure on the pain to try and soothe it (sounds weird, but labor is weird).
I made it to 10:00, then told my husband I couldn't take it anymore. We drove to the hospital and I tried shifting positions about 300 times to try finding comfort. The entire 5 minute drive (my heart goes out to those poor women with 2-3 hours to go) I was worried about them turning us away. My daily fare had consisted of watching the same 10 birth/labor videos on YouTube and reading horror stories on my pregnancy app of women in misery who hadn't dilated enough to be admitted to the hospital.
A week before, I had measured at 2 cm dilated, which means I had 8 to go. Not a big deal since you can stay there for months before anything happens. 3 days before, my midwife couldn't find my cervix (the opening is how you measure it) and decided I was too high. Then she left for 4 days to visit her family for the holidays. I figured it was fine. Fast forward to the present day when we pull up to the dark hospital. We walk inside to an empty lobby and see nobody in the office. There's a phone, but I'm doubled over in pain so my poor husband (who has 0 experience with any of this being the first of his friends to have a kid, the youngest in his family, and having no small children around him growing up) has to call the nurses station and explain to them his wife was in pain. They let us in, gave us a gown, and told us to go change in another room for examination. In the middle of a contraction, I asked him to help me get my leggings off.
SPLASH!
My water broke. Everywhere. All over the floor, me, my husband, the walls... it was a mess. I put the hospital gown on and scrambled onto the bed, still leaking. The nurse came in and I immediately pointed it out so she didn't slip on it. She just shrugged and told me that meant I wasn't going anywhere so I could now get checked into a birthing suite. First, however, I had to get there. I waddled through the empty halls with a giant diaper clutched around me; my hands holding the front and hers in the back. Very humbling. Also helped get rid of any shame I felt. Period pain is still happening through all of this. We get to the suite and they stick a needle in me. I tell them I don't want any needles since it will keep me from moving very much and I want mobility through different positions. They don't listen since it's easier for them to put it in an early laboring woman than a later laboring female Wolverine. My husband is pressing on my back and reassuring me. I'm in a lot of pain and it's getting worse all the time. My Mom comes in and starts pushing. Too scared to ask for anything, I just agree to everything they say. Sure, I'll try lying down. Sure, bring in the birthing ball. Sure, leave me alone. I tried the birthing ball and almost slip off since I'm still leaking. Just imagine constant pain and leaking even when I don't bring it up.
11:00 hits and everyone is telling me to breathe low and slow. The pain isn't cooperating and my body is ripping itself apart. I forget anything about everything and just try to hold onto my sanity. My dignity disappears when I beg my husband to ask the nurses for an epidural. He stands firm on no medication because the last instructions I gave him were to keep me from medication. Past me is a crazy person who didn't understand labor and this is different. You wouldn't deny someone food because they thought they could fast for 3 days... so why deny me medication when I had no idea what was going to happen? My Mom finally convinces him to ask a nurse who flips me over and checks my dilation. 8 cm. Too far along for an epidural. They give me a shot of something mild... like liquid baby aspirin and say they'll bump it up if I need it. If I had any brain power leftover, I'd be wishing they all burst into flames. I can't summon the strength to hate them. I'm a destroyed shell of a person, begging for relief. I'm a panicking horse and my husband is the only person I trust. He strokes my face and hair, telling me it's going to be fine. He breathes with me.
Pretty sure I couldn't have done it without him. The pain was so intense I thought I was going to die. Still not 100% sure I would have lived if he hadn't been there even though nothing went wrong.
It's almost go time. They check again at midnight and I'm 10 cm. Time to start pushing. I've been pushing since the pain got super bad. They tell me it's bad for me, but I'm past the point of caring. I no longer exist outside of a limp collection of consciousness. I want it to be over and whatever will make it over faster is better. They put me on my back so the doctor can see. I'm too tired to protest, my Mom is too scared, and my husband has no idea what's going on.
Screw that. Never give birth on your back. They say it's because it's convenient for the doctor. I'm sorry, I forgot the DOCTOR was the one pushing against gravity and expelling a child the size of a bowling ball through his pelvis! Seriously... it's never happening that way again.
So I'm on my back and they put an oxygen mask on me. I have no other way of fighting the pain and if I pass out, maybe it won't hurt. They tell me to rest between pushes. I push the entire time. It feels like taking a huge dump, casting out a turd after staying at your in-law's for a few days. My Mom tells me she can see the head. My husband tells me to keep pushing. The doctor and nurses tell me I'm doing a great job.
I literally don't care. They could tell me the baby's head looked like a giant tortilla or turtle and it wouldn't matter at this point. He could be backwards; I'm beyond caring. I am a cloud held together by the need to push. They say they can see the head. Someone says something about hair. Apparently it's almost over. I push. They scream. The baby's out.
I'm relieved, ready to take a nap. They put the baby in my arms, screaming, but not super loud. It's not annoying... like a lamb. I can't hold him too close because he's still connected by the umbilical cord. I want to sleep. For all I know, I just passed a lump of gold for the government and my reward is this warm baby. He wasn't slimy at all and there was no vernix (waterproof organic lotion your body puts on them to protect against the outside world). My husband cut the cord and they wrapped me up. My Mom is crying, my husband is... somewhere in the room. They tell me to nurse him. I stick him against my breast and he fusses before finally taking hold. There are pictures. They tell me he pooped right out of the shoot. It's 12:54, and I'm finally a Mom.
I had the worst pregnancy. I didn't get hospitalized, but I should have. I'd thrown up so often that it was dark orange and turning black. My urine did the same thing. It was pretty much the hardest thing I've ever had to do ever and it made me 100% comfortable with my body. Crazy as it sounds, with the constant doctors appointments and poking and prodding and getting to know myself again as I rapidly expanded... I honestly don't care who sees what anymore. The only reason I cover up now is because I don't want to make OTHER people uncomfortable.
So after this terrible pregnancy, about a week before I gave birth, my mucus plug started coming out. For those of you who haven't read everything on the subject yet, it's basically a chunk of mucus that plugs up your uterus so bacteria can't get to the baby and the baby can't come out. At first, it was just thick vaginal discharge with some grey in it. I freaked out, of course, but since there weren't horrifying contractions, I didn't think anything of it. I'd had contractions a few times before (3x) and it happened pretty early in the pregnancy. They made me want to stab a knife through my back just to make the pain go away. I didn't have that yet.
On Thanksgiving, I started cramping every few hours. It felt like period cramps, but I was still able to cook and clean and talk through them, so I didn't think anything of it. The next day was Black Friday and I lost even MORE of the mucus plug; this time it was tinged with red so I figured it was going to happen in the next few days. I wasn't overly worried. I had been cramping on and off, but everyone and everything online, in the books, and with people I'd talked to said that kind of stuff didn't mean squat since you could have cramps 5 minutes apart for 3 hours and still not be in 'full swing'. We kept walking. I had a timer on my phone and my Kindle to time my contractions so I could let my Mom know when she could drive the 6 or so hours to come up. My husband and I would walk for a few minutes, then I'd have to stop for the cramps. It was hard to talk, but I could still do it. I felt like I had to call my Mom, though, so I did and let her know things were probably going to go down soon so she should come up here, but not worry about rushing since it might not happen tonight. She left at 6:30 and got to the hospital at 10:30.We met some friends of ours while shopping and they said, 'When's the baby coming?' and we said, 'Any day now!... Ha ha... irony...
After Walmart, we came home and I died in bed. My husband heated up some corn bags (like rice bags) for my back since it was killing me. I napped on and off for a few hours and forced myself to drink water. I couldn't eat though. I didn't really want anything. I told my husband that I could wait until midnight (since my Dad kept bugging me to hold off until then to make sure I got the extra 1/2 night at the hospital without getting charged extra) and to put the stuff in the car. By now, it still hadn't hit that I was in labor.
About 9:30, it becomes unbearable: the contractions are one on top of the other and getting more intense. Think like when you're kissing a guy and the motions are the same but suddenly the kiss becomes intense. Like that. I'd lost a bigger chunk of my mucus plug (definitely had red) and I could barely grunt through the pain. I definitely wasn't trying to talk since all my energy was on putting emotional pressure on the pain to try and soothe it (sounds weird, but labor is weird).
I made it to 10:00, then told my husband I couldn't take it anymore. We drove to the hospital and I tried shifting positions about 300 times to try finding comfort. The entire 5 minute drive (my heart goes out to those poor women with 2-3 hours to go) I was worried about them turning us away. My daily fare had consisted of watching the same 10 birth/labor videos on YouTube and reading horror stories on my pregnancy app of women in misery who hadn't dilated enough to be admitted to the hospital.
A week before, I had measured at 2 cm dilated, which means I had 8 to go. Not a big deal since you can stay there for months before anything happens. 3 days before, my midwife couldn't find my cervix (the opening is how you measure it) and decided I was too high. Then she left for 4 days to visit her family for the holidays. I figured it was fine. Fast forward to the present day when we pull up to the dark hospital. We walk inside to an empty lobby and see nobody in the office. There's a phone, but I'm doubled over in pain so my poor husband (who has 0 experience with any of this being the first of his friends to have a kid, the youngest in his family, and having no small children around him growing up) has to call the nurses station and explain to them his wife was in pain. They let us in, gave us a gown, and told us to go change in another room for examination. In the middle of a contraction, I asked him to help me get my leggings off.
SPLASH!
My water broke. Everywhere. All over the floor, me, my husband, the walls... it was a mess. I put the hospital gown on and scrambled onto the bed, still leaking. The nurse came in and I immediately pointed it out so she didn't slip on it. She just shrugged and told me that meant I wasn't going anywhere so I could now get checked into a birthing suite. First, however, I had to get there. I waddled through the empty halls with a giant diaper clutched around me; my hands holding the front and hers in the back. Very humbling. Also helped get rid of any shame I felt. Period pain is still happening through all of this. We get to the suite and they stick a needle in me. I tell them I don't want any needles since it will keep me from moving very much and I want mobility through different positions. They don't listen since it's easier for them to put it in an early laboring woman than a later laboring female Wolverine. My husband is pressing on my back and reassuring me. I'm in a lot of pain and it's getting worse all the time. My Mom comes in and starts pushing. Too scared to ask for anything, I just agree to everything they say. Sure, I'll try lying down. Sure, bring in the birthing ball. Sure, leave me alone. I tried the birthing ball and almost slip off since I'm still leaking. Just imagine constant pain and leaking even when I don't bring it up.
11:00 hits and everyone is telling me to breathe low and slow. The pain isn't cooperating and my body is ripping itself apart. I forget anything about everything and just try to hold onto my sanity. My dignity disappears when I beg my husband to ask the nurses for an epidural. He stands firm on no medication because the last instructions I gave him were to keep me from medication. Past me is a crazy person who didn't understand labor and this is different. You wouldn't deny someone food because they thought they could fast for 3 days... so why deny me medication when I had no idea what was going to happen? My Mom finally convinces him to ask a nurse who flips me over and checks my dilation. 8 cm. Too far along for an epidural. They give me a shot of something mild... like liquid baby aspirin and say they'll bump it up if I need it. If I had any brain power leftover, I'd be wishing they all burst into flames. I can't summon the strength to hate them. I'm a destroyed shell of a person, begging for relief. I'm a panicking horse and my husband is the only person I trust. He strokes my face and hair, telling me it's going to be fine. He breathes with me.
Pretty sure I couldn't have done it without him. The pain was so intense I thought I was going to die. Still not 100% sure I would have lived if he hadn't been there even though nothing went wrong.
It's almost go time. They check again at midnight and I'm 10 cm. Time to start pushing. I've been pushing since the pain got super bad. They tell me it's bad for me, but I'm past the point of caring. I no longer exist outside of a limp collection of consciousness. I want it to be over and whatever will make it over faster is better. They put me on my back so the doctor can see. I'm too tired to protest, my Mom is too scared, and my husband has no idea what's going on.
Screw that. Never give birth on your back. They say it's because it's convenient for the doctor. I'm sorry, I forgot the DOCTOR was the one pushing against gravity and expelling a child the size of a bowling ball through his pelvis! Seriously... it's never happening that way again.
So I'm on my back and they put an oxygen mask on me. I have no other way of fighting the pain and if I pass out, maybe it won't hurt. They tell me to rest between pushes. I push the entire time. It feels like taking a huge dump, casting out a turd after staying at your in-law's for a few days. My Mom tells me she can see the head. My husband tells me to keep pushing. The doctor and nurses tell me I'm doing a great job.
I literally don't care. They could tell me the baby's head looked like a giant tortilla or turtle and it wouldn't matter at this point. He could be backwards; I'm beyond caring. I am a cloud held together by the need to push. They say they can see the head. Someone says something about hair. Apparently it's almost over. I push. They scream. The baby's out.
I'm relieved, ready to take a nap. They put the baby in my arms, screaming, but not super loud. It's not annoying... like a lamb. I can't hold him too close because he's still connected by the umbilical cord. I want to sleep. For all I know, I just passed a lump of gold for the government and my reward is this warm baby. He wasn't slimy at all and there was no vernix (waterproof organic lotion your body puts on them to protect against the outside world). My husband cut the cord and they wrapped me up. My Mom is crying, my husband is... somewhere in the room. They tell me to nurse him. I stick him against my breast and he fusses before finally taking hold. There are pictures. They tell me he pooped right out of the shoot. It's 12:54, and I'm finally a Mom.
