Month: July 2014

TV and movies aside, this is not common. As this article notes, prelabor rupture of membranes—water breaking— only happens for about 1 in 10 women. It was a surprise.

As my amniotic fluid dribbled out, I made my way to the toilet. Jeff fetched a towel. There, I saw that the fluid was accompanied by a fair bit of bloody show, which indicates that the cervix is really getting ready to let the baby through. Having blood come out of you, even when it’s expected, is worrisome, so I appreciated that Jeff was able to confirm with our doula, Tiffany, that it was perfectly bloody show.

Speaking of our doula, I love living in the future. Jeff was texting with Tiffany from nearly the beginning. Since they were texting he and she were both able to get ready while still getting us the support we needed.

I made my way back to bed, towel placed to catch dribbles, and called Shana, the midwife on call. I hadn’t had any contractions yet, and I already had an appointment scheduled for 9:15am, so we agreed that it would be best for Jeff and I to get what rest we could.

It was a lovely plan. Like all lovely plans, it was destined to failure. Within 10 minutes of laying back down—about 30 minutes after my water broke—contractions started. We knew we weren’t going to get any more rest, so we prepared for the day. I could not even make it through the 3 minute Sonicare toothbrush cycle without a contraction. Good thing I had showered in the evening.

The contractions were intense even from the beginning. I think it was my second contraction when I commented to Jeff, “Is this a contraction? I don’t think I like this.” Once the contractions started, my sense of time became hazy. My concentration was fully on dealing with the contractions. From the start, these were lasting 30 to 60 seconds and coming 2-5 minutes apart.

I spent my early contractions semi-squatting on the toilet. The position made them more tolerable, but at the same time more intense. It felt like I was working with my body to bring down the baby. It wasn’t too many contractions before this intensity became too much, and I started standing on my toes and pressing on the counter during contractions. I knew I was supposed to work with the contractions, but it felt too fast. I was right. By the time I had my last contractions upstairs, my vaginal area felt distinctly bulgy and I felt what I realized later was an urge to push. At that point I decided to go downstairs; I was afraid I wouldn’t make it later.

Jeff was trying to comfort me as much as he could between the small list of things that had to be handled before we left: communications with the midwife and doula, getting himself ready, getting the car packed, and making sure the cats had enough food to last a couple days. Even what he could do helped a lot. He reminded me to vocalize with low noises. He reassured me. He was a presence for me to lean on, emotionally and physically.

During one of my contractions downstairs, Jeff called Tiffany so she could hear me going through a contraction. She knew I was in active labor from my vocalizations and lack of ability to respond to questions and left for our place. Although it wasn’t the reason we chose her, we ended up being extremely grateful that she lives relatively near us.

Jeff used his cell phone dual wielding skills to also get in touch with Shana, our midwife. At this point, their conversation was pretty much “I’ll meet you at the hospital.” While we waited for Tiffany, Jeff finished getting things ready, and I breathed my way through more contractions. By this point, I knew we had to leave for the hospital right away.

I went in the entry and managed to put my shoes on while standing — no way I was going to be comfortable sitting down on the hard bench—and fashionably wrapped a towel around my waist—pants were also not an option. We waited a couple more minutes for Tiffany to arrive, and then went out to the car.

We’d been having hot weather in Seattle—high 80s and even a bit into the 90s—so it was nice that it was only about 5:30am and still relatively cool for the 15 feet we had to walk outside to get to the garage. The one contraction I had during that walk was bad enough. I would hate to think how miserable a contraction in 85F air would have been.

Jeff and Tiffany got me settled in the car, and we were ready to leave. Tiffany warned us that if we pulled over for any reason, she would call 911. We were off to the hospital.

Fortunately, traffic was still light. Those of you who know I-405 N in Bellevue, know that even an hour later, traffic would have been painful.

I had my first car contraction before we made it to the onramp. Jeff put his hand on my leg to comfort me, but I’m paranoid about safety in vehicles, so I reassured him that the best thing he could do for me was concentrate on driving. Contractions in the car are supposed to be more miserable, but by that point, my contractions were so intense that I hardly noticed the difference.

What I did notice was really strong urges to push. They were almost irresistible. Every contraction I straightened and stiffened my body. I knew I was pushing at that point, and I knew that I had to wait until we got to the hospital. I decided it would be best not to mention this urge to Jeff.

At about 6:00am we arrived at the hospital and pulled up in front of the Family Maternity Center. Jeff and Tiffany supported me on both sides, and Shana was waiting for us at the door. I don’t think I would have been able to get in without the three of them. I walked into triage, and the nurses and Shana started checking things out.

At this point, things become even more blurred, and I’m not sure of the sequence of events. I think I had my blood pressure checked. Maybe I was laying down. Jeff gave Tiffany the car key so she could get the camera and take pictures. Jeff never left my side, for which I was grateful. I wanted him there. Shana and the nurses were discussing which room to take me too. They wanted it to be a close one that was already ready since at that point, it was obvious the baby was coming imminently.

Finally, they decided to take me to a room and went to get a wheelchair. I got up off the triage gurney bed and tried to walk. I couldn’t. Not because it hurt. It was just physically impossible. Shana checked, and baby was crowning. I couldn’t walk because there was a head between my legs. At this point, she had me get back on the gurney bed, because it was obvious that I wasn’t going to make it to the bed in the room before this baby came out. I got on my hands and knees because that was the only position that seemed bearable.

One of the nurses tried to put a warm sheet over me—or maybe that was earlier, the first time I was on the bed? I protested with an eloquent “Warm bad.” and it was removed. I pushed through several contractions, and baby was definitely coming out, but since she wasn’t out yet, Shana and the nurses decided to make a quick dash to the room that had been prepped for me. We rushed an extremely long distance—Jeff claims it was a fast walk to the closest room, but you couldn’t have convinced me of that at the time—and made it to the room.

I pushed once, maybe twice, and Shana convinced me to try moving to my side. I was convinced getting onto my side was impossible, but with help, I was able to go from on my hands and knees to on my right side. I lifted my left leg over Shana’s shoulder to open up my pelvis, pushed a couple more times through the intense burning, and out came baby! After the head, the rest was easy. It was 6:33am, about two and a quarter hours since labor had started.

Pushing hurt, although in a different way than contractions. Contractions were intense and encompassing. Pushing was sharp and localized. What made pushing harder than contractions, in some ways, is that there wasn’t the full relief between pushes that there had been between contractions. Even at their most intense, between contractions, I felt nearly normal. But between pushes I still felt strained and stretched from baby’s partially extruded head.

They put Sylvia straight onto my abdomen with her little gooey head barely nestled between my breasts. We left the umbilical cord attached until it stopped pulsing, someone clamped it, and Jeff cut it. (Even with waiting, there was a small vial of cord blood left for donation!) At this point, I more or less started ignoring everyone else around me — okay, I had been doing that already — and concentrated on my beautiful little baby.

After Jeff cut the umbilical cord, the nurses had him lie down. Between the lack of food, the adrenaline, and perhaps the sight of all of the blood and goo and whatnot, he was feeling a bit light headed.

After the umbilical cord was cut, Shana had me push out the placenta. This was a bit harder than pushing out Sylvia’s body since by that point, I had started to relax a bit, but it was still relatively easy. The placenta was very interesting to look at, but seeing it just reinforced our lack of desire to save or process it in any way.

There was some cleanup. Shana gave me a few stitches for my one tiny vaginal tear. Sylvia and I were moved to the bed. At this point, it finally started to hit me. We had a baby. A sweet, precious, brand new, cute-even-though-she-was-slimy-and-slightly-bluish baby! It had all gone so quickly that it was almost hard to process. But there she was.

They did some initial checks, and Sylvia and I had our first breastfeeding experience—with Tiffany’s help to get us on the right track. Jeff recovered and joined us by the bedside. We were a little family.

In retrospect, it seems like I may have more or less started labor in transition (the third stage of labor where your body switches from opening the cervix to pushing the baby out). This is incredibly fast; much faster than the dozen or two hours that is more standard for a first baby. Shana said, quite seriously, that next time we have a baby, if the waters break, we should head to the hospital immediately.

I certainly don’t mind having missed out on the hours of painful contractions, but I wouldn’t characterize this labor—or any labor—as easy. Because I started labor so late into the process, I went straight to the most intense contractions, from nothing to incredibly intense pain. I’ve read that pain of the uterus contracting back to normal size after birth can be as intense as early contractions. None of my contractions were anywhere near that mild (and those healing contractions were still quite unpleasant).

Having labor progress so quickly was quite frightening in retrospect. At the time, I didn’t have a chance to be afraid. But I very very realistically could have ended up giving birth at home or in the car or an ambulance on the side of the freeway.

I am grateful now that I learned coping techniques for dealing with labor pain and Jeff and Tiffany’s reminders of these techniques. I learned these because I planned to have an unmedicated birth (unless there was a medical reason to do otherwise). But it’s impossible to predict what will happen in birth. If I had been planning on an epidural, I would not have had a chance to get one. Even if I had teleported to the hospital immediately, it would almost certainly have been too late. Because I was able to get the support I needed to work through other coping techniques, I was able to make it through an intense labor.

And now, Jeff, Sylvia, and I are learning how to build our lives together. It’s a whole new adventure, and one I look forward to experiencing.