Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Emerson Lily: A Natural Birth Story

This post has been a long time coming. I knew I wanted to tell the story of Emerson's birth, and now that she is almost 12 weeks old I'm finding it gradually easier and easier to get things done during naps (she's asleep in my Lillebaby carrier as we speak). I'm not going to go light on the details, so if you're grossed out by things like breast pumping, mucus plugs, or water breaking, then go watch a funny video of a cat.

This story starts when I was around 20 weeks pregnant. Before becoming pregnant, Dan and I had decided we wanted to keep things as natural as possible. Growing up, I always thought women who decided not to get epidurals must be insane. Why would you choose what is described as the most painful thing the human body can endure when you have an option to numb the pain? But the more I read and researched, the more possible complications I found. Eventually I decided that if women had given birth without medication since the beginning of time, I could do the same. Skip forward to my 20th week of pregnancy. Thus far, we had been seeing nurses and doctors with the intention of delivering at a hospital, but at this particular appointment, after seeing that we had a healthy girl bun in the oven, the nurse began going over common hospital practices with us, one of which is the practice of having an IV needle inserted in your arm the entire time just in case you needed fluids. This healthcare practice was already on my bad side after incorrectly diagnosing me with a pregnancy complication around 10 weeks and telling me I would likely not go full term and may not be able to carry other children. They were completely wrong and had it resolved in 24 hours after some tests, but those 24 hours were heart-wrenching and could have been avoided by not jumping to conclusions. So while this protocol may seem insignificant, the idea of trying to labor naturally and breathe through the pain while having a needle in my arm was enough to convince me that a hospital full of procedures might not be the best place for me.

During my first trimester, I had begun reading Ina May's Guide to Childbirth which introduced me to the idea of a birth center. Unsure if I was walking into a den of hippies, I decided to set an introductory appointment with the first birth center that came up in a local search. At the first appointment, Dan and I were greeted by name, given a tour, and had the opportunity to sit and ask questions without feeling rushed. We were empowered and assured that I would be the one delivering the baby, not a doctor, nurse, or midwife. The control was put back in my hands, and I loved that feeling. With each appointment, I became more and more sure that we had made the right decision by switching practices. I'm so thankful for the individual care I received, full of patience and love, rather than feeling like a random name on a clipboard.

My pregnancy was smooth, and besides being told I was carrying a boy or twins by multiple strangers each day, I have no complaints. The weeks came and went, and suddenly I found myself 40 weeks pregnant. Without a single contraction. I began to worry. Why wasn't I having any signs of labor? Was this baby ever coming out? My full time job became trying to have a baby. I went to a chiropractor, an acupuncturist, and I marched laps around our neighborhood. But nothing happened. Each morning I woke up crying that I was still pregnant. Then 41 weeks arrived. After an ultrasound (where I had the tech double check I was, in fact, having one girl) confirmed that baby was still healthy and happy in there, my midwife, Audrey, began suggesting some natural ways we might be able to induce labor. More chiropractic adjustments, more acupuncture, and the use of a breast pump to bring on contractions. At 9 days overdue, this combination finally worked.

I had been power pumping all day, and around six o'clock in the evening on November 2nd, I texted Dan that I thought I was starting to feel something. It still wasn't bad, and I remember thinking, "oh, is this all labor is?" Still not convinced that anything was really happening, I was a little surprised to have bloody show. I quickly called Audrey to give her a heads up, but she said that, while this was definite progress, it could still be quite a while before real labor started. But that wasn't the case. I was lying on my side in bed that night, feeling the baby move, when all of a sudden a real contraction hit. I doubled over in pain. I couldn't breathe! I flapped my hand at Dan trying to get his attention as I could no longer speak. And when that contraction ended I jumped out of bed, frantic to make sure I wasn't in that same position when the next one hit. And it did, way sooner than expected. I had been told that labor would start slow and easy. That I'd have time to get used to the contractions before they got close together. Blame the red raspberry leaf tea, the dates, or the black and blue cohosh, but that was not the case for me. We timed contractions for about an hour, noting that they were only about 6 minutes apart and were so awful all I could do was brace myself and try not to scream, and then we called Audrey. She was very calm and seemed to think I might be exaggerating the intensity. She recommended that we try to get some sleep and to call her again when the contractions got closer together or more intense. For the next two hours, Dan and I moved around the house trying to find a way to make the contractions more manageable. I tried sitting on a birthing ball, lying down, standing against a wall, leaning into Dan, but nothing was working. At 2 AM on November 3rd, the contractions were coming only minutes apart, so we called Audrey again. This time she suggested we meet at the birth center to see how things were progressing. With quite a bit of struggle, I got into the SUV and we made the drive to the birth center.

Once we were settled in, Audrey asked if she could check my dilation. I was expecting to be several centimeters dilated, but as of 3 AM I was only 1 centimeter along. I was shocked, and Audrey told us that I'd probably be laboring for another 24 hours and could head back home if we wanted to. Something in my gut told me this wasn't going to be the case, so I told her I'd like to stay and use the tub. It's around this point that everything became a blur for me. I know I threw up at some point from the pain. I know that Dan sat behind me on a step in the tub for hours while I dug my fingers into his calves every time a contraction hit, and I remember around 5 AM I asked Dan to get Audrey again and she discovered I was already 5 cm dilated. Upon realizing this was going much faster than she thought it would, she called the other midwives who would be assisting with the birth. Hearing that it was moving along was exactly what I needed. Up until this point I had been overwhelmed by the pain, panicking and telling Dan I couldn't do it even though he continually, lovingly told me that I could. I had read that every contraction has a peak, and that after that midpoint the pain would begin to go down like a wave, but my contractions had two peaks and as soon as I recovered from the first, the next would hit even harder. But as the dilation continued, I began to find my rhythm. I could tell myself as I felt the next contraction beginning that I just needed to get through four deep breaths and it would be over. In between waves, I leaned back against Dan in a trance-like state, getting what little rest I could.

Around 8 AM, I was stuck at 9 cm dilation. Nothing had changed in over an hour, and I was completely spent. Although the water felt amazing, we decided to move to the bed to see if a change in position could finish dilation. After another half hour of labor, we had made no progress, so Audrey suggested that we manually push down the last bit of the cervix to bring the baby's head past it. That took the help of only one contraction and then I had permission to push.

Until you've given birth, it's hard to imagine how terrifying pushing is. I'd heard from friends that pushing was the easy part. Maybe that's true if you're partially numb to it, but for me it was probably the scariest moment of my life. At first, I couldn't get the timing right. I had been inhaling and exhaling deeply and rhythmically for hours, and now I was being told to take a deep breath, hold it, and use the contraction to move the baby down and out. Contraction after contraction came and went and it was still so unnatural. I felt like my body wasn't ready, but I was trying to push against it. During one particularly hard push, my water finally broke, and then it became much easier to work with the contractions. It still wasn't fun, and I was still telling Dan that I couldn't do it, when I felt my baby's head begin to come out. Yes, that is just about as pleasant as it sounds. "Wow! She has so much hair!" and "her eyes are out!" helped me continue to do what I so badly wanted to not do anymore. I just wanted it to be over. With one great push, Emmy's head was out, and at that point, my body completely took over and I didn't have to try to push anymore. My body knew what to do and in a few more moments, she was out. I cried out of relief and then joy as I saw them lift my little baby and place her on my chest. She was absolutely perfect. I distinctly remember grinning through tears and telling Dan that holding her on the outside, I could still feel those same curves and bumps I'd felt on the inside for so long. I knew this baby already. I was hit with such a wave of endorphins and oxytocin that I suddenly felt nothing but joy and love. I looked at my baby, I looked at Dan, and everything was exactly as I had imagined it, but better.

In the end, my labor was about 11 hours total to give birth to my 7 lb 13 oz and 20 inch sweetheart. I can honestly say that I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I'm not eager to do it again, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Thinking of what my body did is the most empowering thing imaginable, and knowing that God designed it to work this way blows my mind.