Mama B: Cervix of Steel

My birth story?  Where to begin...

 

I spent my entire life looking forward to pregnancy and motherhood.  I had wanted a daughter as far back as I could remember, and am pretty certain I announced my desire to "grow up to be a mother" in my eighth grade yearbook.  I'm sure my parents were just briimming with pride.  Unfortunately, I quickly realized that I was not one of those women who enjoyed being pregnant.  I wasn't glowing, I didn't have renewed energy in my second trimester, and - let's be honest - swelling flatters no woman.  I just hated it.  So when my doctor offered me the chance to induce at 39 weeks, I jumped at it.  I was working against an end-of-the-year tax and deductible deadline as it was, so that ensured I wouldn't owe yet another $1500 in insurance deductibles if the clock chimed midnight on the 31st.

 

I was set to head into the hospital on Dec. 27th at 4PM to start my induction.  My doctor, an extremely handsome and charming man in his mid-thirties *swoon*, had made it sound like a cakewalk, telling me that they'd be applying cervidil, a ripening agent, to my cervix and letting it sit over night.  As such, we naively filled a hospital bag full of things like Gossip Girl Season 1 on DVD, sudoku books, trashy tabloid magazines.  Oh, and some requisite baby and mommy necessities as an afterthought.  If only I could go back and slap some sense into my pre-baby self...

 

Anyhow, we started the induction process at 6PM with me at 1cm and 75% effaced, after which I ordered my last meal - a gourmet omelet, a brownie and some bacon - and sent D off to the nearby Barnes & Nobles for US Weekly and a few other "necessities".  About twenty minutes after he left, the contractions hit me like a truck.  I quickly called him and told him to get his tush back to the hospital ASAP.  Twenty minutes later when he arrived, I was in tears and climbing the walls.  The nurse came in to my room, noting that I was having "very intense and frequent contractions" to check me, hoping that I was one of the lucky ones making quick progess without pitocin.  No such luck - I was still at a measly 1cm. 

 

Flash forward three hours, all of which have spent writhing in pain, and I'm STILL at 1cm.  It was my hospital's policy to not give epidurals until 3-4cm, so I was going it all natural, but with contractions occuring every 1.5-2 minutes and lasting 60-90 seconds.  Apparently, despite getting only 30 second breaks on average from extremely painful contractions, I had the cervix of steel.  The nurses decided to give me a shot of stadol to try and take some of the pain away, but rather than numb me (or at least make me incoherent enough to not realize how much pain I was in), it only made me violently ill.  You know what's worse than nonstop contractions?  Throwing up every couple minutes during nonstop contractions.

 

At this point I was starting to get extremely discouraged.  Not knowing why I was reacting the way I was to the cervidil, the nursing staff called in my doctor, who quickly diagnosed me as having an extremely hyperstimulated uterus.  My little girl had been a trooper up until about 6AM - 12 hours into my labor, still no drugs and at 1cm STILL - but as her heartrate became erratic, I threw out all reservations and agreed (actually begged is more fitting) for a c-section, and my doctor, having been trying to get me to agree for hours, happily obliged. 

 

Though my section was scheduled for 7AM, fortunately (for her, unfortunately for me) A's heartrate stabilized as they shot me up with fentanyl to dull my pain until they took me back to the OR, and my c-section was bumped back to allow for an emergency c-section.  FIVE HOURS LATER, I found myself in the operating room, prepping for my spinal block.  While I was nervous about the spinal block, it ended up being the easiest part of my labor - far easier than my botched IV - and the relief from 18 hours of excruciating pain was a welcome blessing.  I was extremely nervous about my section, as I had heard you can sometimes feel tugging and/or pressure, but I felt nothing except freezing cold and shaky. It was quick and painless -  A was born 15 minutes later, on December 28th, weighing in at 7lbs, 12oz and 19 inches long.

Mama J: Pitocin, Poop & a lot of Pain

Picture it...

December 3, 2009 in South Boston, MA. What should be a brisk late-fall day is actually a balmy spring-like day in the mid 70s. I am 35 weeks and 5 days pregnant, out walking (waddling is more like it) the dog as I had every day for the last 3 and a half years. At approximately 8:30 AM, and at least a mile away from my home, I bend over to pick up my dogs poo and I instantly feel like I peed my pants. 

HOLY SHIT INDEED. 

I waddled as fast as I could back to our condo, with the liquid continuously dripping between my legs. As soon as I got in the door I called my doctor's office and told them what happened. The doctor told me to get my butt to the hospital ASAP. It was go time. I immediately called my husband at work and told him that today was the day, and I would be there to pick him up shortly...after I packed our bags and got ready. Somehow I managed to throw some clothes together for my husband and myself and off I went. 

The drive to the hospital is a blur, but shortly after we were checking in at the Labor Triage at Brigham & Women's hospital. We were then escorted up to Labor & Delivery where we were told to wait in a waiting room. What? Wait? My pants are soaked through and you want me to sit in the waiting room? I obviously didn't want to sit, and couldn't sit still so I paced back and forth while talking to family members on the phone (my parents flew up from Florida that afternoon God bless them). About 15 minutes later I was called by a nurse who took me back to this giant room and told me to get settled and wait for the doctor.

The doctor came in sometime after we got settled and did an exam. I was not dilated at all, nor had the baby moved down, but my water had obviously broken. It was Pitocin time. Along with the labor inducing drug, they put me on antibiotics because I had yet to get the necessary internal exam at my 36 week appointment. And then the waiting began.

I laid in the bed and watched television for the next few hours and occasionally the nurse would come in and say "oh you had a contraction" as she looked at the monitor. What? I didn't feel anything? This is a piece of cake!! I sent play by play texts to my girlfriends saying how I must be Superwoman because I apparently was having contractions and not feeling them. Little did I know what I was in for. 

It wasn't until about 6 PM that I started feeling the pain. And damn was it starting to get painful. I walked the halls like you always hear about, but just felt stupid. I bounced on the balls, got on my hands and knees, did the breathing I learned in class, but nothing was helping - the pain was getting worse, so I asked for drugs...lots of them. 

In came the anesthesiology team (a med student and doctor) to give me my epidural. Now, I had actually come into the hospital the day before to have a consultation with an anesthesiologist because I have a herniated disk (between L4 & L5) and both of those disks have stress fractures in them from a previous injury. They were prepared and knew my medical history and I was told that no matter what, they would relieve the pain. 

10 minutes after they left I was numb...on just my left side. We waited a little longer and I flipped over onto my right side to see if that helped, but no, the pain was still insane on my right side, and my left side was numb. Back came the anesthesiologist to "fix" the problem. They ended up giving me some magic drug that numbed my entire body for a short period of time (so much so that I was slurring my words-but hell it was a welcomed relief) after adjusting the tube that was in my back because they thought the first insertion might have gone more towards my left side, as opposed to straight as it should have been. Awesome. 

An hour later, after returning from happy no-pain land, I was still numb...on my right side this time. The contractions had become unbearable at this point, and I could feel the full force of them on my left side. The pain was so bad I was in a fetal position on my left side, gripping the side of the bed with one hand, and crushing my husbands hand with my other as I did my best yoga breathing I knew how. Back came the anesthesiologist. 

By this time it is after midnight, now Friday the 4th, and I am having my third epidural (the last one they started from scratch in a different location on my back). I have been in labor technically since 8:30 the day before, and feeling contractions for about 8 hours - the last 3 being the worst pain of my life. After the final insertion of the epidural they again gave me the magic drugs (I want to say litocain) and I was feeling great...and feeling like I had to poop. 

The doctor (who had been in and out a few times during the ordeal) came back around 1 AM and the nurse told him that I was feeling pressure. He told me that it would be a few more hours probably, but after checking me, I was at 10 centimeters and this baby was coming. 

Let me tell you about this pushing thing - in order to push correctly they tell you to push like you are pooping. How do you not poop on the table? I don't know for sure, but I saw a few quick swipes by the nurse down there, but holy hell I didn't (and don't) care one slightest bit. My lady parts were out in the open for all to see and I wasn't bothered in the least. 

At 2:14 AM Marlo Ada was born: 5 pounds 11 ounces and 18 inches long...and 4 weeks early. She spent about 2 hours in the NICU where they monitored her breathing because she was having trouble clearing her lungs, but after that she was all ours.

By 10 AM I was showered, in my Adidas pants and sweatshirt and ready for visitors. Despite some swelling and bleeding in my lady land (they had to stitch me up a little) I felt great. Of course I was tired, and my back hurt (thankfully I was given some nice pain medication) but the next 2 days were just great. 

When we left the hospital on Sunday the 6th, there was 6 inches of snow on the ground. Gotta love New England weather. 

Mama E: The Births of My Boys

As a two-time mom, I thought I'd post my two experiences side-by-side, thus you can see how a second birth might compare to a first.

The Birth of F: My First

At my 38 week appointment, my doctor let me know that I was about 2 cm dilated. But more surprisingly, based on the condition of my cervix she thought I would go into labor in the next few days. She was so sure, she didn't even want me to schedule my normal 39 week appointment with her. I of course, did not believe her, as I was prepared to go late and sweat my way through the rest of August, just like the vast majority of first time moms.

Well that night, at exactly 2:46 am (these things are burned into my brain!), I woke up thinking I had peed in the bed which made me think I was totally pathetic. But the liquid kept on coming...as did my lovely mucous plug which I tried to vain to get my husband to look at, based on its sheer grossness. I figured I was in for the long haul, since I hadn't had any contractions. Well, that changed quickly. Within 15 minutes, I was contracting about every 8 minutes. At this point, I decided to get out my computer and start "transitioning" my work to the brand new employee that was to take my place. Nothing like an email in the middle of the night passing the buck! And my husband decided he should probably pack my bag...clearly, we were not prepared. By 4:30 am, shortly after I sent my last email, we decided to head in to the hospital. On the way there, I quickly gave up any thought of natural labor and screamed at my husband to run the red lights.

We arrived at the hospital a little after 5 am and the triage nurse said, "You sure seem to be in a lot of pain for 2 cm," and gave me something the size of a dixie cup to vomit in. This is when I wanted to hit someone, including my husband who was dressed in his new addidas pants and shoes - his labor outfit, as he referred to it. I aimed for those shoes every time I dry heaved. They decided to put me in room, I think to get me - a crying mess - away from all the sane women, even though I was barely dilated. I walked down the hall, bare behind to the waiting room, totally oblivious.

I called for the epidural right away and per hospital procedure, my husband and his new shoes had to leave the room. I guess it's good that they move slowly when putting a needle in your back, but they certainly couldn't do it as fast as my liking. The pain wasn't going away so they decided to check me and low and behold I was 8 cm. I really wanted them to go tell the triage nurse that I was indeed in labor, but I decided it's probably better to be nice to hospital employees. Apparently, because my body was moving through the stages of labor so quickly, the epidural was not working well. My husband arrived back in the room and the doctor gave me the go ahead to push, thinking the pain would lessen. Sure enough, pushing felt good and after an hour of so of painless pushing (yeah drugs finally working!), my first baby boy came into the world. All of 6 pounds, 10 oz and 19 inches, I melted when they laid him on my belly. He wasn't big, but with a total labor time of a little more than 5 hours, he was in a hurry.

The Birth of J: My Second

So after all that, we decided to have a second. My husband asked the OB at nearly every appointment, how she was "going to make sure I didn't have the baby in the car," since my first labor was so fast. All of my papers had "FAST LABOR" in big letters, somehow not a reassuring sight.

Since my first was 12 days early, I was sure number two would as well. Well that day came and went and I became increasingly miserable. However, at my appointment, 10 days before my due date, my OB said I was 4-5 cm dilated and I needed to be AT the hospital if my contractions were 15 minutes apart. I had been having contractions all day, but I had throughout the last few weeks, and I chalked it up to not getting a seat on the T (thank you green line college students, did you think I was just fat?). Well, as I got on the T to go home from my appointment, my phone went dead and like clockwork my contractions getting more regular. I figured I'd stop in town at my sisters, rather than going home to burbs, to see if it was real. Although my sister is a nurse, she really didn't want me to have the baby on her white couch (and she also wanted to go on a date that she had scheduled several weeks earlier...), so when my contractions were about 10 minutes apart, she drove me the hospital while my husband languished in Celtics and Red Sox traffic.

Since my folders had that "FAST LABOR" written all over them, they put me in a room right away and started my antibiotics, since I was Strep B positive this time. Of course, when you're the pregnant mother of a toddler, an air-conditioned room (with a tv above your bed and room service) pretty much seems like heaven. Apparently all this relaxing was not good and everything slowed down. The resident came in to let me know that they may want me to go home, since hospital policy is not to do anything proactive until after 39 weeks. The on-call doctor came in five minutes later and let me know to ignore any thought of going home and that I wouldn't be leaving without a baby, she'd break my water after I got the full dose of antibiotics.

I'm pretty sure they broke my water with a giant knitting needle, but whatever it was, the baby crawled up into my rib cage...not the direction you want them to be going at that point. Unfortunately, after a few hours of contractions, I was still only 4-5 cm. So I started walking the halls, listening to the nurses gossip and waving the anesthesiologists who would shortly bring me into a medicated bliss. Forty-five minutes later, contractions started picking up and I decided that I'd call for the epidural. Both teams were with C-sections, so I'd have to wait. At this point, I had my next contraction and though I was going to die. I felt an urge to push, but when they checked me I was not even 6 cm...and they basically told me, that the anesthesiologists were not going to make it in time. I had two more contractions and I was 10 cm (...and I'm still crying for drugs). Three pushes and number two was out. I think I was delivered by the D-Team, since my whole labor was compressed into about six contractions...and I'm pretty sure the cleaning lady was in the corner. So I guess, breaking my water certainly did the trick. Seven pounds and four ounces and 20.5 inches of cuteness, my husband and I laughed in a "what the hell" way when he came out - we couldn't believe we went from a family of three to a family of four so quickly. If there is a number three, I'm going to be hooked up to the drugs at 36 weeks, just to make sure I'm fully drugged by the time I'm in labor...and I'll be the one living in a tent on the Beth Israel sidewalk, just so I can be sure I make it in time.

Birth Stories

Over the next few weeks, the mamas of this blog will be sharing our birth stories with you. It seems like once you're a mama, you can't help but enjoy hearing these stories - they all seem to make you smile, laugh, and cry! And if you're not yet a mama, we hope these stories show that whatever type of birth you have, it's always incredible. Feel free to share your stories with us in the notes sections of our posts.