Sunday, Part II

Labor begins

It wasn’t all that long before the Pitocin got a regular pattern of contractions going. I don’t remember where I was when that happened; I know I was in the bed when they started the Pitocin, but I think later I was walking around, and then sitting in the rocking chair.

I lay down in the bed on my side with one leg up, a la the Bradley method book. Mark applied counterpressure on my tailbone. This approach worked for only a short time — the counterpressure stopped helping, and that position didn’t feel so great.

On the birthing ball

When Graham came back to check on my progress, she suggested I try the birthing ball. I sat on it near the edge of the bed, and leaned against the bed when the contractions hit. I found the need to vocalize — sighing out loud at first, and then yelling — louder than a normal speaking voice, but not at the top of my lungs yet.

I was surprised at the way the contractions hurt. I knew they would hurt, but I didn’t know what the pain would be like and where it would hurt. I suppose there’s no way to prepare for or anticipate this never-before-experienced pain. I think mostly I felt really really intense pressure on all my pelvic bones, as if something were trying to explode them out of my body. I tried really hard to be sure I was relaxing all the muscles down there, but with that kind of pressure and pain it was difficult to know if I was succeeding or not.

Graham sat behind me and massaged my hips, which helped a lot. Sometimes I was able to bounce, sway, and rock on the ball, which seemed to help a little. Other times I needed to just lean either forward or backward. (Poor small Graham supporting all my weight when I did that! It wasn’t long before she asked Mark to sit there instead.)

Either way, it felt much better to sit on that soft ball than on anything unyielding; every once in a while I was unhooked from the monitor and escorted to the bathroom, and the worst contractions were the ones that hit on the toilet or walking to and from.

I was shaking almost continuously, although sometimes I could momentarily deliberately relax and the shaking would stop for a bit.

I found that when I could keep a determined — almost but not quite angry — attitude, I could labor more effectively. Sometimes, though, I’d lose energy and lapse into feeling scared and sorry for myself.

My coaches

Mark was supportive and available. Occasionally he would murmur quiet affirmations. He did what I asked him to do, mostly massaging a particular place or getting me a drink, but sometimes he didn’t understand what I was saying and I’d have to repeat it — it took so much energy to say anything. Only one moment really freaked him out — I was staring out the window at a chimney, yelling, and I guess that just looked and sounded too strange for him, and he let out a laugh. Not that he thought it was funny, but the other kind of laugh, when something is weird and you don’t know how else to respond to it.

Graham was a great coach when she was with us, which was more and more often and longer as labor progressed further. (Someone else was laboring next door, so she had to divide her time between us.) She had a way of holding and returning my gaze that was steady and reassuring, and that reflected back the determination I was using. She was good at massaging where I needed it, and she kept telling me how strong I was and how well I was doing.

She coached me in how to yell most effectively — to keep my voice as low in pitch and volume as possible, because a higher pitch would reinforce feelings of pain and fear. I hadn’t thought of it that way; I’d figured my voice was responding to my feelings but I hadn’t realized my feelings would also respond to my voice.

It’s funny, how all thoughts of “comfort measures” went out the window. No, I didn’t want to listen to music or read my Bible or visualize anything — none of that would help, wouldn’t really distract me or calm me down at all. Instead I had to be present and pay attention to what was actually going on.

The nurse, Rita, was in and out doing things sort of behind the scenes — at one point she said she knew I didn’t want any pain medications, but if I had changed my mind now was a good time because the anesthesiologist was next door giving the other woman an epidural. I managed to say no — it was early — but as time went on I kept thinking about it. I was getting tired, wondering when this stage would be over, wishing there was a way to know so that I could pace myself. Eventually I mentioned my “is it too late for meds” thoughts to Graham, who encouraged me to go a little longer, and thought I didn’t really need anything.

Pushing

Soon after that, while I was on the toilet, I felt a little desire to push. It was almost involuntary, and not particularly strong, but just felt like what should happen. I told Graham, and she said to go ahead and push when I felt like it. She’d examined me shortly before, and even though I was only 8 cm dilated, she thought the cervix was thin enough that some pushing would be fine.

I stayed on the toilet through several more contractions. Pushing was such a weird sensation. At the first level, it was a lot like pushing out a difficult bowel movement. But the next level felt more like vomiting, except of course in the other direction — as if I were trying to expel my bowels and other organs. Some of these pushes made me feel like I was choking. At the same time, this stage was much better than the previous — I felt like I was finally doing something.

Next, we moved back into the room where Graham had me squat with my arms supported on Mark’s knees. Unfortunately, he was still in the rocking chair, and we didn’t have time to switch it for a regular chair, so my weight pushed the rocker forward and we had a hard time keeping me upright.

Birth

When Graham saw the head descending, she moved me to the bed on an incline with my feet up as close to my behind as I could get them. Mark was obviously getting excited now. Contractions and pushing hurt more and more, but I could feel I was making progress. Only one time did I feel the head slip back after a push I didn’t keep up long enough. Graham often manually helped things stretch, which hurt, but it was helpful to have her tell me to push her fingers out.

Then Amy’s head was born — a huge relief. And then I had to slow down and do little pant-pushes to deliver her shoulders. And then she was out, and there was my baby, our baby, a bloody beautiful mess, so warm, with big open eyes, lying on my chest.

We delivered the placenta (which was neat to see, along with the amniotic sac), and Graham sewed me up — apparently I had a second-degree tear — and they cleaned up Amy and let Mark hold her. (Oh my! nothing like seeing your husband holding your baby for the first time)

Funny, I managed to do the entire labor and delivery between lunch and dinner, so I didn’t miss any meals. And I was so pleased that I got through it all without any pain meds or other interventions besides the Pitocin. I can’t imagine laboring longer than I did — I’m not sure I could have done so without some pain meds. At the time I was also thinking I couldn’t imagine ever being willing to go through labor again at all. (Now I can’t imagine ever being willing to go through the first week after birth again.)