My Birth Story

I guess it's time for me to cough up the deets about my own birth experience. It's probably good for me to write it all out before I forget the details...

I was ready to give birth from about 36 weeks on. I generally loved being pregnant, except for those last few weeks. I remember laying in bed at about 39 weeks and referring to rolling over as "coming about". But I worked until a week before my due date -- 12 hour shifts on my feet -- and generally tried to keep busy. By 40 weeks I was totally over it and was pretty disappointed to see my due date come and go with no baby. By then I'd tried every trick in the book -- spicy food, sex, Dr. Christopher's PN6 herbs. I even baked a batch of "jump start your labor cookies" -- all to no avail.

At my midwife appointment on my due date (a Tuesday), she told me that if I hadn't gone into labor by Saturday I should come to her office and she'd try to stretch my cervix a bit. So Saturday came and, sure enough, no baby. I walked to her office and she told me I was 1 cm dilated. She said if I hadn't had the baby by our next appointment on Tuesday, she'd get a bit more aggressive with the cervix stretching, but till then I just had to wait it out.

That night at about 11:30, I lay in bed reading when I felt a weird gurgle & a trickle. I did a gravity defying horizontal exit from our bed, took two steps into the bathroom and knew that I was leaking amniotic fluid. It was only a little bit of fluid and it was clear, but it was unmistakeably amniotic fluid.

So I called my midwife. She asked me if I had any castor oil in my house and when I said no, she said she'd put some in her mailbox if Mr. Stewgler wanted to walk down and fetch it. We hatched a plan -- I was to set my alarm for 5 AM. If I hadn't started contracting by then I was to make a cocktail out of castor oil, OJ, vanilla ice cream & a shot of vodka (not kidding) and then go back to sleep. The idea with the castor oil is that it gets your bowels in an uproar and the peristaltic contractions of your bowels sometimes gets uterine contractions going. The OJ & the ice cream are to mask the taste and texture of the castor oil. The vodka was supposed to chill me out (yes, my midwife is one of the raddest people on the planet).

So we went to sleep. Actually we laid in the dark for a while listening to our hearts pound and then we went to sleep. I didn't need my 5 o'clock alarm.

By five AM, I was contracting regularly -- every five minutes or so. I got out the laptop and started timing them with contractionmaster.com. By 5:30 I'd woken up Mr. Stewgler & called my parents to tell them it was on. My mom planned to be in the delivery room with us so she packed her bag and headed for Brooklyn.

And so it went. I walked around the apartment, sat on the exercise ball, and breathed through my contractions. Even without the castor oil, my bowels were in an uproar. I spent the better part of the morning walking back and forth to the bathroom. At some point I called the midwife back to tell her I was in labor. She said she'd come over when ever I wanted her to and suggested that I try a shower and a nap.

My contraction pattern was kind of funny. I'd have runs of intense contractions -- where each one was a little worse than the last, capped off by a total monster which would leave me barfing my brains out. But then I'd get a little break -- they'd space out and get a little less intense. My labor happened in waves.

By early afternoon I was getting pretty uncomfortable. Mr. Stewgler insisted that I call the midwife -- she answered the phone saying that she was just putting on her coat to come see me whether I wanted her or not. She arrived and listened to the baby with her doppler for about 20 minutes. She then suggested that I try taking a bath.

Mr. Stewgler filled the tub & when I got in I instantly hated it. Our tub was too shallow and the sides were too steep and I just couldn't get comfortable.

Of course, I also couldn't turn off my brain. Mr Stewgler tried to make me a bath pillow out of a towel -- I worried that it was our last clean towel & that my mom wouldn't have a towel to use. As much as they tried to get me to focus on the task at hand. I was much more interested in playing the hostess. Was the midwife hungry? Had she tried the jump start your labor cookies? What were they planning to order for lunch?

I think I got in and out of the tub twice. I just couldn't decide what I wanted. I remember saying, "Oh God, I'm one of those laboring women."

At some point I asked the midwife when she'd check me to see how dilated I was. She replied that because my membranes were ruptured she didn't really want to check me until I felt the urge to push. Because we were still at our house, I was kind of disappointed by this news. I had hoped to head to the hospital somewhere around 6 or 7 cm's -- late enough in my labor that I'd spend most of it at home but early enough that I wouldn't be trying to walk three blocks to the hospital in the dreaded transition stage of labor. So I asked her to check me, even though she didn't want to, just so we'd know where we were in the process. She declared that I was 5-6 cm's. Woo-hoo. I seem to remember that my mom and I high-fived and then we started getting ready to head to the hospital.

Getting to the hospital was a feat in and of itself. We live three blocks from the hospital so we weren't about to drive there, but in that moment three blocks seemed like a long way to go. I made it down our five flights of stairs with no contractions, but I had three contractions (one per block) en route. My mom took photos of each contraction and they're hilarious. Even without the photos I think I will forever remember those spots. When I walk down the street I can't help but feel a special fealty with the fence and mailbox and bench that I hung on -- my special connection with Hicks St.

At the hospital, we walked straight into the labor room. My midwife gave me the option to have an IV or not. Knowing that I hadn't kept anything down all day I opted for some IV fluid. I even offered to let a nursing student or orientee start my IV since I have great veins, no needle phobia & a BIG karma debt to repay. They put me on the fetal monitor for about 30 minutes and, of course, I watched it like a hawk. I explained the whole thing to Mr. Stewgler while my mom & the midwife talked about knitting.

By the time my 30 minute monitoring strip was finished, the jacuzzi tub was filled and I was so excited to get in. That tub was the greatest thing EVER. I had two jets on my lower back and it felt totally awesome.

I just re-read the last few paragraphs and I feel like I need to mention that I was indeed having MAJOR contractions every 3-4 minutes. The great thing about contractions is that when they're over, they're over and you really feel fine. So, sure, one minute I was huffing and puffing my way through a contraction, but the next I was talking about fabric or Japanese food. As my midwife says, "That's the beauty of labor."

OK, so I'm in the tub for about 20 minutes when I start bearing down involuntarily. I seriously couldn't stop myself. At this point I've been at the hospital for less than an hour. So they haul me out of the tub (in this hospital you can labor in the tub, but you can't deliver in it) and my midwife checks me again... 9.5 cm's! Awesome. I was totally psyched to have progressed so quickly.

The only problem was that I felt like pushing but I wasn't fully dilated. My midwife declared that if I needed to push then she needed to reduce my cervical lip. Translation, she needed to push the little ring of remaining cervix up over the baby's head while I pushed (because cervical tears are nothing nice). Let me tell you folks, this hurt like crazy. Mind searing pain.

I think it was around this time that I asked for an epidural. I knew, in my head and my heart, that I didn't really want one, but it felt good to ask. My midwife totally ignored my request. Seriously, it was like she was deaf to the word epidural. Hilarious.

Pushing was kind of an out-of-body experience. For the first 45 minutes I was dealing with the cervical reduction. For the next 45 minutes I felt like I wasn't making any progress. For the last half hour I was digging deeper than I'd ever dug before. By the end I was holding my own feet & was fully committed.

The final details are kind of a blur. I guess that's just the way it is -- one second you're pushing and the next you're holding a baby. I remember my midwife telling me to reach down and grab her. I remember her eyes popping open right away. I remember her cord feeling kind of short. I remember that pushing out the placenta was one of the best feelings in the world.

In hindsight, I think it's really interesting that any sort of somatic memory escapes me. In this moment I can't describe or even really remember what it felt like. Do contractions feel like strong menstrual cramps? I have no idea. I remember that it hurt at times and didn't hurt at times and that's the best I can do.

I know this -- giving birth was the most empowering experience of my life. Bar none. Hands down. My mantra at the end of my pregnancy was that childbirth is one of those rare opportunities to really see the stuff of which you're made. I know now that I'm made of will and guts and power. Mountains and mountains of power.