I had hit 36 weeks on Thursday (the 16th) and thought that I still had 4-6 weeks to go before Emma’s arrival. I had finally, that week, gotten the car seat in the car, but knew there were a lot of little details to take care of, and I still had to think about packing my labor bag.
I started making a “To Do Before Baby” list Friday evening, but was too tired and decided I’d get it all figured out over the weekend.
As usual, I was waking up every hour or so to pee. At about 3:00, I noticed that my underwear was kind of, well, wet. I was sleepy enough to not think anything of it, thinking sweat/leakage/who knows (ahh, pregnancy). I threw on another pair of underwear before getting back into bed.
Woke up at 4:00, went to the bathroom, and noticed that my underwear was soaked. Somehow I still didn’t realize what had happened. I was heading over to change them again when there was a big squirt of fluid as I was walking.
THAT made it click in my head. I was still definitely in denial, though, thinking it couldn’t possibly be my water, that I was jumping to conclusions. I put on another pair of underwear, but I also grabbed a towel, and sat on it on the edge of the bed, waiting.
Twenty minutes later and on my second towel, I finally leaned over and poked Jason. “Hey… my water broke, I think.”
“Okay, what time is it?”
I glanced over. “Almost 4:30.” Looked back. He has fallen back asleep.
I poked him again, and this time he actually woke up, and after getting it through his head that my water had broken, was asking what it meant (not that he doesn’t know what water breaking is, but the implications). I said “Yeah, possibly she thinks she’s coming today. You may have to call in to work.”
We lay there for a while, talking about whether it really was my water breaking, and what would happen if it was. I decided to take a shower, and Jason went downstairs to get some coffee. More leakage in the shower, although light—it really was sporadic spurts. I got out of the shower at about 5:30, and decided that I was being silly—it was definitely my water. So I called my mom, and let her know. She was extremely excited, and we talked a little about what to do. She was surprised because her water had always broken late in labor.
Jason brought me a little toast and a banana, and some Gatorade. After picking at that, and sitting at the computer for a bit, I decided that I should probably call my OB. I knew that doing so started me on the 24-hour-ROM-clock. But I was starting to have some menstrual-cramp feelings and bloody show. The baby was kicking a little, but not at all as much as I would have liked. So I got nervous, and really I wanted to be reassured that she was okay, especially since it was slightly premature.
Mom called back, said she was on her way, and agreed that I should call the OB. I was lucky in that my regular OB was the one on call for his practice that weekend. When he got on the phone at about 6:30, he said that he wasn’t surprised since I had been already 2 cm dilated, and had been showing progression of effacement all through last week. He said to come to the hospital, I said we’d be there in a bit.
Jason and I hung out for a while, talked some, started packing the bags for the hospital. I was starting the bag completely from scratch, since that had been something I was going to do that weekend—haha. About halfway through packing it, the crampiness was picking up, the baby’s movements were slowing down, and I was getting antsy. So I said “enough packing,” and we headed off to the hospital at about 7:30. It was a beautiful spring morning, clear and warm.
We got settled in to the hospital, met our nurse, younger woman named Lydia. She checked the fluid—sure enough, amniotic fluid—and we hopped on the monitor to see that the baby was doing wonderful, and my uterus not so much—I was getting definite crampiness, with spikes of pain, but not yet leveled out into regular contractions. I had really not wanted to do an IV, but had been swabbed for Group B Strep on Wednesday, and it had come back positive. Since the test was so recent, I surely was still carrying it, and I decided to do the antibiotics rather than risk it.
She got the IV in at about 8:30 and started the first dose of antibiotics. At this point, the cramps were getting really uncomfortable. It was all pressure down very low in my pelvis. Lydia checked me and I was hanging out at 3 cm, 70-80% effaced, and the baby was pretty low, at -1 station.
I was a bit unsure what to do, since really the cramps were coming about every 2 minutes but only lasting 30 seconds. I didn’t really feel the need to breathe through them or anything, but I kept wanting to change position, trying to find a way to relieve the pressure in my hips.
The OB came by, and we talked for a bit. He knew that I wanted things to be relatively natural, but also knew that my number one desire was to avoid a c-section. He mentioned that yeah, they couldn’t really let labor go for more than 24 hours. He suggested starting a low dose of pitocin to see if the cramps would pick up to productive contractions. I was not thrilled about the pitocin, which I’d really hoped to avoid, but as he knew, I’d rather augment with pitocin, than risk a c-section because of a lack of progress. I already had an IV for the antibiotic, so I consented to add some pitocin. We decided to start out very low, and re-evaluate every half hour or so after seeing how things were going.
The pitocin started at about 9:30. The cramps had picked up a bit, but it took a while for real contractions to kick in. My mom had arrived, grinning and very excited, and sent Jason to go eat some breakfast and call work. I hung out with her, talking and continuing to shift positions, trying to find something comfortable. I actually read some of my book (I’d been halfway through “The Twin Towers” of Lord of the Rings, and had just gotten to Isengard) whenever the cramps slacked off. I was starting to feel a little high from endorphins, and was more excited than anything, not that bothered by the cramps at this point.
We upped the pitocin a bit at 10:30, and I started to finally get some long productive contractions. Jason rubbed my back and shoulders, and we started doing some breathing through some of the longer ones. I had nearly no abdominal pain, and not even what I would call back labor—I just felt like my pelvis was being slowly ripped apart. I kept moving around on the bed, kneeling upright, sitting Indian style, sitting on pillows, kneeling back on my heels. Lydia came in at about noon and suggested a birth ball—which I should have thought of, I’d even brought one that we hadn’t yet brought in from the car. I gratefully agreed and she brought one in. It was absolute heaven. Jason pulled up a chair behind me and I leaned back on him during contractions, which were now 2-3 minutes apart and lasting a good 60 seconds. I guess I was on the birth ball for a little over an hour. Then I was starting to feel really kind of wonky, and the contractions were getting harder. My sister chose THIS moment to show up. I looked up and said “bad time” and she looked totally scared and popped back out of the room immediately, haha.
I asked Lydia if she would check me. I was at a 5. Only a 5??? I got back on the birth ball, and the next few contractions totally kicked my ass. I was really starting to feel it, and began losing it a little. I tried moving up to the next stage of breathing, but I was having difficulty finding my rhythm. A few more contractions, and I started asking for the epidural. This was at about 1:00.
Then it got really crazy. The contractions were coming pretty much without stop, and I totally lost the breathing, starting hollering and panicking. I wanted them to take off the pitocin bag, because in my mind it would stop the contractions if the “contraction bag” was gone, haha. Lydia said that for the epidural, I would need to lie down on my side. I tried that—and NO WAY. It was so incredibly painful. I sat on the edge of the bed, Jason sitting behind me rubbing my shoulders (poor guy, I think at this point he was scared at how in pain I must have seemed) and my mom stood in front of me. When a contraction hit, she would step in close, make me look at her face and imitate her breathing. It didn’t make the pain any worse, but it helped to get me under control. I wasn’t yelling and screaming any more. But I was still feeling pretty rough, and still wanted to 1) take off the pitocin bag, 2) get the epidural.
At about 1:15, the epidural guy got there, and Lydia tried to get me to lie on my side to get it, and then a MAJOR contraction hit, and I felt my body pushing. I tried blowing to stop it, but it was the most insane involuntary urge I’ve ever had. I yelled at Lydia “I want to push, I want to push!” She looked at me, and checked me, and called the doctor in. Another contraction hit, and the urge to push was completely unbearable. It was worse than anything had been up to that point.
The doctor checked me and said “Well, you’re complete. Do you want the epidural, or do you just want to push?” I said “PUSH PLEASE!” I’d gone from 5 cm to complete, in a little over 15 minutes. I started pushing at 1:20—I know this because I looked over at the clock.
Lydia stepped up and tried to get me comfortable. I ended up wanting to be semi-sitting, which I know isn’t the “best” way to push, but it sure felt good to me. My mom and Jason helped hold my legs up, and Lydia instructed me on pushing, which was incredibly helpful—in all of my thinking and practicing for labor, somehow I never really thought much about pushing. I thought it would come natural to me, but it really didn’t. It took me about fifteen minutes to get a good rhythm going where I was making really productive pushes. I kept feeling like it was going nowhere, but my mom and Jason were encouraging me the entire time and telling me how good I was doing, and that helped me gather up the will to keep going—I was so tired at this point.
The doctor showed up at some point, and eventually he replaced Lydia down there. I knew that her head was nearly there, it was such an odd feeling, but not at all painful. I was totally in my pushing zone. Then the doctor said “stop pushing!” What? Stop pushing? I really didn’t want to stop pushing, I was getting good at it. Then he said again “stop pushing!” and I stopped and I’m not sure, this part gets blurry, but I think someone said that the head was out. My mom later told me that the cord was wrapped around her neck, and the doctor said to stop pushing while he unwrapped it. Then he said “okay, good, go” and the rest of her just slid out. I don’t remember too clearly, but my mom says that I said “she’s born? Her head is out? Oh listen to her cry! Is that her crying?”
She came out crying and face-up (I didn’t learn this until later that night, but it explained why my labor felt so weird). They handed her up to me. She was completely covered in vernix, and looked so small. Her eyes were open, and she had a full head of dark hair. I kept saying “oh my god, oh my god.” I couldn’t believe that I was finally looking at her and holding her. She was without a doubt the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
So—Emma Lynne, born 4/18/09 at 1:51 PM, 7 lb 4 oz, 20.5 inches, and absolutely perfect.
I started making a “To Do Before Baby” list Friday evening, but was too tired and decided I’d get it all figured out over the weekend.
As usual, I was waking up every hour or so to pee. At about 3:00, I noticed that my underwear was kind of, well, wet. I was sleepy enough to not think anything of it, thinking sweat/leakage/who knows (ahh, pregnancy). I threw on another pair of underwear before getting back into bed.
Woke up at 4:00, went to the bathroom, and noticed that my underwear was soaked. Somehow I still didn’t realize what had happened. I was heading over to change them again when there was a big squirt of fluid as I was walking.
THAT made it click in my head. I was still definitely in denial, though, thinking it couldn’t possibly be my water, that I was jumping to conclusions. I put on another pair of underwear, but I also grabbed a towel, and sat on it on the edge of the bed, waiting.
Twenty minutes later and on my second towel, I finally leaned over and poked Jason. “Hey… my water broke, I think.”
“Okay, what time is it?”
I glanced over. “Almost 4:30.” Looked back. He has fallen back asleep.
I poked him again, and this time he actually woke up, and after getting it through his head that my water had broken, was asking what it meant (not that he doesn’t know what water breaking is, but the implications). I said “Yeah, possibly she thinks she’s coming today. You may have to call in to work.”
We lay there for a while, talking about whether it really was my water breaking, and what would happen if it was. I decided to take a shower, and Jason went downstairs to get some coffee. More leakage in the shower, although light—it really was sporadic spurts. I got out of the shower at about 5:30, and decided that I was being silly—it was definitely my water. So I called my mom, and let her know. She was extremely excited, and we talked a little about what to do. She was surprised because her water had always broken late in labor.
Jason brought me a little toast and a banana, and some Gatorade. After picking at that, and sitting at the computer for a bit, I decided that I should probably call my OB. I knew that doing so started me on the 24-hour-ROM-clock. But I was starting to have some menstrual-cramp feelings and bloody show. The baby was kicking a little, but not at all as much as I would have liked. So I got nervous, and really I wanted to be reassured that she was okay, especially since it was slightly premature.
Mom called back, said she was on her way, and agreed that I should call the OB. I was lucky in that my regular OB was the one on call for his practice that weekend. When he got on the phone at about 6:30, he said that he wasn’t surprised since I had been already 2 cm dilated, and had been showing progression of effacement all through last week. He said to come to the hospital, I said we’d be there in a bit.
Jason and I hung out for a while, talked some, started packing the bags for the hospital. I was starting the bag completely from scratch, since that had been something I was going to do that weekend—haha. About halfway through packing it, the crampiness was picking up, the baby’s movements were slowing down, and I was getting antsy. So I said “enough packing,” and we headed off to the hospital at about 7:30. It was a beautiful spring morning, clear and warm.
We got settled in to the hospital, met our nurse, younger woman named Lydia. She checked the fluid—sure enough, amniotic fluid—and we hopped on the monitor to see that the baby was doing wonderful, and my uterus not so much—I was getting definite crampiness, with spikes of pain, but not yet leveled out into regular contractions. I had really not wanted to do an IV, but had been swabbed for Group B Strep on Wednesday, and it had come back positive. Since the test was so recent, I surely was still carrying it, and I decided to do the antibiotics rather than risk it.
She got the IV in at about 8:30 and started the first dose of antibiotics. At this point, the cramps were getting really uncomfortable. It was all pressure down very low in my pelvis. Lydia checked me and I was hanging out at 3 cm, 70-80% effaced, and the baby was pretty low, at -1 station.
I was a bit unsure what to do, since really the cramps were coming about every 2 minutes but only lasting 30 seconds. I didn’t really feel the need to breathe through them or anything, but I kept wanting to change position, trying to find a way to relieve the pressure in my hips.
The OB came by, and we talked for a bit. He knew that I wanted things to be relatively natural, but also knew that my number one desire was to avoid a c-section. He mentioned that yeah, they couldn’t really let labor go for more than 24 hours. He suggested starting a low dose of pitocin to see if the cramps would pick up to productive contractions. I was not thrilled about the pitocin, which I’d really hoped to avoid, but as he knew, I’d rather augment with pitocin, than risk a c-section because of a lack of progress. I already had an IV for the antibiotic, so I consented to add some pitocin. We decided to start out very low, and re-evaluate every half hour or so after seeing how things were going.
The pitocin started at about 9:30. The cramps had picked up a bit, but it took a while for real contractions to kick in. My mom had arrived, grinning and very excited, and sent Jason to go eat some breakfast and call work. I hung out with her, talking and continuing to shift positions, trying to find something comfortable. I actually read some of my book (I’d been halfway through “The Twin Towers” of Lord of the Rings, and had just gotten to Isengard) whenever the cramps slacked off. I was starting to feel a little high from endorphins, and was more excited than anything, not that bothered by the cramps at this point.
We upped the pitocin a bit at 10:30, and I started to finally get some long productive contractions. Jason rubbed my back and shoulders, and we started doing some breathing through some of the longer ones. I had nearly no abdominal pain, and not even what I would call back labor—I just felt like my pelvis was being slowly ripped apart. I kept moving around on the bed, kneeling upright, sitting Indian style, sitting on pillows, kneeling back on my heels. Lydia came in at about noon and suggested a birth ball—which I should have thought of, I’d even brought one that we hadn’t yet brought in from the car. I gratefully agreed and she brought one in. It was absolute heaven. Jason pulled up a chair behind me and I leaned back on him during contractions, which were now 2-3 minutes apart and lasting a good 60 seconds. I guess I was on the birth ball for a little over an hour. Then I was starting to feel really kind of wonky, and the contractions were getting harder. My sister chose THIS moment to show up. I looked up and said “bad time” and she looked totally scared and popped back out of the room immediately, haha.
I asked Lydia if she would check me. I was at a 5. Only a 5??? I got back on the birth ball, and the next few contractions totally kicked my ass. I was really starting to feel it, and began losing it a little. I tried moving up to the next stage of breathing, but I was having difficulty finding my rhythm. A few more contractions, and I started asking for the epidural. This was at about 1:00.
Then it got really crazy. The contractions were coming pretty much without stop, and I totally lost the breathing, starting hollering and panicking. I wanted them to take off the pitocin bag, because in my mind it would stop the contractions if the “contraction bag” was gone, haha. Lydia said that for the epidural, I would need to lie down on my side. I tried that—and NO WAY. It was so incredibly painful. I sat on the edge of the bed, Jason sitting behind me rubbing my shoulders (poor guy, I think at this point he was scared at how in pain I must have seemed) and my mom stood in front of me. When a contraction hit, she would step in close, make me look at her face and imitate her breathing. It didn’t make the pain any worse, but it helped to get me under control. I wasn’t yelling and screaming any more. But I was still feeling pretty rough, and still wanted to 1) take off the pitocin bag, 2) get the epidural.
At about 1:15, the epidural guy got there, and Lydia tried to get me to lie on my side to get it, and then a MAJOR contraction hit, and I felt my body pushing. I tried blowing to stop it, but it was the most insane involuntary urge I’ve ever had. I yelled at Lydia “I want to push, I want to push!” She looked at me, and checked me, and called the doctor in. Another contraction hit, and the urge to push was completely unbearable. It was worse than anything had been up to that point.
The doctor checked me and said “Well, you’re complete. Do you want the epidural, or do you just want to push?” I said “PUSH PLEASE!” I’d gone from 5 cm to complete, in a little over 15 minutes. I started pushing at 1:20—I know this because I looked over at the clock.
Lydia stepped up and tried to get me comfortable. I ended up wanting to be semi-sitting, which I know isn’t the “best” way to push, but it sure felt good to me. My mom and Jason helped hold my legs up, and Lydia instructed me on pushing, which was incredibly helpful—in all of my thinking and practicing for labor, somehow I never really thought much about pushing. I thought it would come natural to me, but it really didn’t. It took me about fifteen minutes to get a good rhythm going where I was making really productive pushes. I kept feeling like it was going nowhere, but my mom and Jason were encouraging me the entire time and telling me how good I was doing, and that helped me gather up the will to keep going—I was so tired at this point.
The doctor showed up at some point, and eventually he replaced Lydia down there. I knew that her head was nearly there, it was such an odd feeling, but not at all painful. I was totally in my pushing zone. Then the doctor said “stop pushing!” What? Stop pushing? I really didn’t want to stop pushing, I was getting good at it. Then he said again “stop pushing!” and I stopped and I’m not sure, this part gets blurry, but I think someone said that the head was out. My mom later told me that the cord was wrapped around her neck, and the doctor said to stop pushing while he unwrapped it. Then he said “okay, good, go” and the rest of her just slid out. I don’t remember too clearly, but my mom says that I said “she’s born? Her head is out? Oh listen to her cry! Is that her crying?”
She came out crying and face-up (I didn’t learn this until later that night, but it explained why my labor felt so weird). They handed her up to me. She was completely covered in vernix, and looked so small. Her eyes were open, and she had a full head of dark hair. I kept saying “oh my god, oh my god.” I couldn’t believe that I was finally looking at her and holding her. She was without a doubt the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
So—Emma Lynne, born 4/18/09 at 1:51 PM, 7 lb 4 oz, 20.5 inches, and absolutely perfect.
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