Birth story - Hannah and baby Miles

*Trigger warning* - Use of the word contraction as not negative for me.

History:

I had my IUD removed in November of 2020. After trying to get pregnant unsuccessfully for 7 months (July, 2021), I approached my Ob/Gyn to see if I was a candidate for intervention. She was well aware of my issues with inconsistent menstrual cycles and PCOS, and has had to prescribe different medications during the years I saw her to induce periods. When I told her having a baby in the spring of 2022 would be ideal (husband was a 4th year medical student, so would be finishing up his rotations in spring and would have substantially more time available), she agreed to prescribe me Femara. One month later, I got my positive pregnancy test.

My pregnancy was very uneventful. Other than some tiredness in the first trimester, I’d have to say it was extremely easy compared to the horror stories I hear from other women. No morning sickness, no headaches, nothing! I was starting to think pregnancy was easy. I hit 28 weeks, and that’s when I started slowing down with my exercising. Bad choice. I went to take my dogs on a 1.5 mile walk around 30 weeks, which I hadn’t done in the past two weeks. I got home that night and couldn’t walk; my hips were so painful. This went on consistently until after I gave birth, so I gave up going on “long” (i.e., walks longer than just walking around the house) walks after 35 weeks. I started practicing up-breathing exercises every night around 28 weeks, and drinking raspberry leaf tea around 36 weeks. Uncomfortably, my husband and I started doing perineal massages around 34 weeks. Neither of us enjoyed that, but it was good practice to utilize my up-breathing.

Birth:

I went in for my weekly midwife appointment at exactly 40 weeks. I was starting to feel incredibly impatient, so opted to do the membrane sweep when it was offered. I was 3 cm dilated and 80% effaced, the same as I had been the previous two weeks. I wasn’t feeling discouraged, but ready to finally meet my little boy. The membrane sweep was painful, but I was able to breathe through it without too much effort. However, the membrane sweep did absolutely nothing for labor. I had been feeling a few Braxton hick’s contractions the last few weeks, but nothing substantial. Two (40+2) days after the membrane sweep, I started feeling more regular contractions around midnight. They woke me up, and I started timing them just to see what was going on. By the time 8:00AM rolled around, they had subsided and almost gone away completely. I was having maybe one an hour at that point, but they were extremely weak. I wouldn’t even classify them as bad as a menstrual cramp. I was really tired, but carried on with my day as usual. That night, the same thing happened and I was up all night again timing contractions. They never got consistent enough or strong enough to warrant the hospital. I was getting frustrated from lack of sleep, so I went into L&D that day, just to get checked out.

I was still 3 cm dilated, but 90% effaced. I walked around L&D for an hour, and the admitting nurse said after the hour was up that I had gone from 3 cm to 5. I was ecstatic! They admitted us, and we brought all of our gear upstairs. The nurse assigned to our room checked my cervix again once we got settled, and with a confused look on her face, said that I was definitely still a 3 and not a 5. I was heartbroken hearing that. She said we could start a Pitocin drip and see what happened. I was so impatient at that point, I agreed, and we started the drip. The Pitocin was ramped up to max within an hour (I had no idea you could gradually build up with it), and I was in absolute agony. Every contraction felt like it started out at the peak, rather than gradually building. I knew there was no way I could continue the Pitocin and have the natural birth I wanted. With tears streaming down my face, I asked them to stop the Pitocin. They checked my cervix again, and sent me home still at 3 cm. They gave me a morphine injection to try and help me sleep that night.

The next day, after a slightly better night’s rest (pretty sure it was from shear exhaustion, plus the morphine), I was determined to get labor going. My husband and I went to our local shopping mall in the middle of a huge rain storm, and walked around for 6 hours. My contractions were finally consistent enough, we could go into L&D. We go in, and I swear the second I changed into their gown, the contractions stopped. This made me genuinely angry. I just wanted to meet my son! After being there for an hour, I ask to go use the restroom before heading back home. I do my business, and go back into the pre-admittance room. I sit on the bed and request another morphine injection, so I can try and sleep again tonight. They agree, and give me the shot. After 10 minutes, I stand up to start changing my clothes, and feel a trickle running down my leg. I look over at my husband with the biggest smile on my face. I tell him I think my waters are leaking, and we call for the nurse. She takes a swab and sends it to the lab. Roughly 40 minutes later, the nurse returns and excitedly says the results came back positive for amniotic fluid. I stand up from the bed, and a huge puddle gushes onto the floor. We all laugh and the nurse says, “Yep, no doubt about it now!” We get into our room at roughly 7PM on April 22.

My contractions majorly ramped up as soon as my waters broke. I went back and forth between bouncing on my yoga ball and walking around the room. My husband would jump up and rub my back/arms anytime a contraction started, or sway with me as I leaned against him for support.

The nurses checked me around 1:30AM, and told me I was about 7.5 cm. I was feeling really accomplished, but incredibly tired at this point (3 nights in a row of extremely little sleep). Around 4:30, I moved to the bed and laid on my side. I was so sleepy, I would doze between contractions. At 5:30, the nurse checked my cervix again to see if I had progressed. I was still at 7.5 cm. This was discouraging, since I’d made so much progress so quickly early on. She asked if I wanted the peanut ball between my legs, to try and encourage my cervix to open. I said sure, knowing this was easily the least invasive intervention I could ask for. She put the peanut ball between my legs, and promptly left the room. Not two minutes later, I was yelling at my husband to get the nurse back in our room, because this baby was coming NOW! (All hail the magic peanut ball)! The nurse came in and sure enough, I was 10 cm dilated and ready to push.

I was on all fours with the back of the bed raised upright so I could have my arms and head leaning on top of it. We did some practice pushing while waiting for my midwife to arrive. The urge to push wasn’t relieving like I thought it would be, but man was it the strongest urge I’ve ever experienced. I could feel my baby moving up and down the birth canal. At one point, right after my midwife arrived, my baby moved back up so hard, my whole body jolted forward and we all had a laugh about it. The most helpful thing I was told while pushing was to push the sound that I was making “down through my butt.” Looking back, it feels like such a strange piece of advice, but man did it make sense in that moment. After 25 minutes of pushing, I knew if I didn’t get him out within the next few contractions, I wouldn’t have the energy to continue. I pushed with everything I had, and felt his head exit my body. It was an intense burning sensation that continued until I got the rest of his little body out. I had to ask my husband afterwards approximately how long I actually pushed for, because it legitimately felt like no more than five minutes. I was blown away when he told me I was pushing for half an hour. The contractions were so intense and felt like they were back-to-back without any time in between, but he told me there was roughly a minute between each contraction. Crazy!

I was so tired and physically spent after pushing, the nurses had to physically help me move from my knees onto my back so I could hold our son for the first time. My voice was hoarse for the next three days as I recovered from the animalistic noises that I had been making. I had a second-degree tear which required several stitches.

Recovery was easily the most difficult part of the whole experience. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that was one aspect of the birth process that I hadn’t mentally prepared for. I couldn’t slide on/off chairs, couches or car seats and had to do this weird side-arm-push motion to get up and down from sitting. Between recovering and a few initial issues with breastfeeding, the two weeks after having my son were extremely difficult. But we powered through, and he’s now a 5-month-old happy and healthy little boy!