My First Lesson in Being a Mom

When I was pregnant I developed this plan for how I wanted to bring my son into the world.  I researched, took a class, researched some more, asked around, and talked to my doctor. I knew, even before I was pregnant, that I wanted to deliver unmediated. I have always had a high pain tolerance and I knew that less interventions meant a simpler, healthier birth and a lower risk of a C-section. I was met with mixed reactions when I informed family and friends about my birth plan, but I stuck to it. Little did I know that Jonah’s arrival would happen unexpectedly and exactly how I did NOT want my birth experience to happen. I decided to share my birth story for a few reasons.  First, I want to document the experience so that I never forget it. I want to remember every single detail of the two days that changed my life. Second, I think it’s important for me to come to terms with what happened because it was traumatic, and yeah I really mean traumatic; more on that later. Third, I greatly benefited from birth stories I read when I was preparing for Jonah’s arrival— and I mean the real birth stories that weren’t rainbows and butterflies. I wanted to know what childbirth was really, truly like, and now I want to be that resource for other expectant first time moms.  So without further adieu, here is Jonah’s birth story as I remember it. 

I was past my due date, a problem I had never dreamed of having. I just assumed because my mom delivered all four of us kids 2-3 weeks early that the same thing would happen to me. Yet, there I was, walking a mile and a quarter every day, eating spicy food, using my exercise ball, trying everything within my power to induce labor. I was so ready for my baby and I believed he was ready for me, even though my body clearly wasn’t ready. I went in for my 40 week appointment and my OBGYN told me what I had been hearing for weeks— no dilation, no effacement, and baby was still floating high. However this time she presented me with the ultimatum I had been fearing; if I did not deliver naturally within the next few days I would be induced.  My doctor was concerned that baby boy was getting too big and she wanted to avoid a C-section.  I began to panic, and Sean and I discussed asking to be induced ASAP instead as I was undergoing another non-stress test.  My panicking drove my blood pressure up, prompting my doctor to keep me at the hospital and start me on a medication to ripen my cervix in order to induce me the next day. Even though I was upset that labor would not occur naturally surprise me, I was relieved that I was finally going to meet my baby. 

 (I had actually fixed my hair and makeup so I looked pretty awesome for being in the hospital)

I spent the afternoon getting my IV (one of the worst experiences of my life) and starting the cervidil medication—which I reacted to.  I started seeing contractions on my monitor but felt nothing for quite a while. Throughout the evening I was having mild contractions that felt like cramps. I had a hard time sleeping because of the swelling and discomfort caused by the cervidil. Another dose of the medication was administered at 2 am (ugh), along with a muscle relaxer to help me sleep (which I did).  My doctor induced me around 9 am, and the pitocin didn’t really seem to change my contractions— on a scale of 1-10, they were a 3.  Oh, and I had dilated to a 3 by this point.  Not good progress, but progress nonetheless.  I spent the morning and chatting with my husband, mom, sister, and in laws all while in early labor-- I kept changing positions, like I had learned in my class and in all the blogs I had read about natural childbirth, but talking was really the only thing that made me feel better. 

By the middle of the afternoon, however, the pain really started coming, and it was not what I had been expecting.  The best I can describe it is this; I felt like my hip bones were being ripped apart and outwards while simultaneously being smashed into pieces by a mallet.  The crampy feeling was gone by this point.  This is the part of labor I really don't remember very well, but I do remember just feeling like something was very wrong.  This was not how I was supposed to be feeling, it was not supposed to be this painful (again, I have a very high pain tolerance).  I was crying and moaning and according to my husband pretty much screaming at a few points.  I was given some pain medication a few times to relax me (which was my favorite part of the experience, though the high only lasted maybe 15 minutes each time).   By 7 p.m. I had only dilated to a four, and according the uterine catheter they had put in at some point (I do not remember) my contractions were not strong enough to get labor progressing.  Jonah still had not dropped into the birth canal.  My doctor and my nurses started bringing up the very real possibility of a C-section which, in truth, I was basically expecting from the moment she brought it up during my appointment the morning before.  Anyways, my heart sank when she told me my contractions weren't doing enough.  Why wasn't my body working right?  It's a difficult emotion to process, let alone explain, but imagine this amazing thing your body is supposed to be able to do and it won't do it.  I felt like I was broken, in more ways than one.  I then did the thing that I told myself I would never, ever, ever do; I asked for an epidural. 

Do I regret it?  No way.  Do I lay awake at night feeling like a total failure for it?  Yeah, sometimes.  This is when I learned my first lesson in motherhood, and really a lesson we all have to learn at some point:  I am not in control.  When I was in so much pain I couldn't move or speak I prayed.  My prayers weren't really in words, more like just a feeling of complete helplessness in God's hands, and let me tell you, my entire life I have HATED feeling helpless.  I am the kind of person that enjoys planning everything thing out to each tiny detail and thus having complete control of the situation.  But when I asked for that epidural I felt so small, so weak, so helpless.  I knew that I had a long way to go if I had only dilated to a 4 and if the pain was this bad already I wouldn't make it to the end without medication.  My doctor also thought the epidural would relax me and possibly get my body to work a little faster.  So, I agreed, and like I said, I do feel like a bit of a failure for "giving up", but at the same time I knew deep down it was the right choice.  I really cannot accurately describe the amount of pain that I was in; I know people talk about how childbirth is the worst pain ever, but really something was wrong in my situation. 

A couple of very relaxed hours later (after the terrifying ordeal of trying to stay still while in unimaginable pain in order to get the epidural) my doctor came to check on me.  I was not dilating past a 4.  My pitocin dosage was maxed out.  I wasn't feeling strong contractions anymore.  She told me exactly what I knew in the back of my mind was going to happen since this whole process began; I had a ticket to the operating room.  Jonah was going to be delivered via C-section.  I thought that I would be totally crushed, but in all actuality I just felt this huge wave of relief rush over me.  This was going to be over soon and I would finally have my baby who I had been waiting very impatiently for for weeks now.  Sean and I called our parents, who had just left the hospital to go to their hotels, and told them the news.  They got back in time to see me off.  I was given one of those poofy caps and promptly wheeled back to the coldest room I had ever been inside-- I am not kidding, it felt like a walk-in freezer.  My doctor talked me through the procedure as I laid on the table, numb and terrified yet completely relaxed from the epidural.  As my doctor began the procedure the anesthesiologist kept me in good spirits until Sean was finally able to join me in the OR.  He did an amazing job of keeping me calm while I felt all the pulling and tugging of the procedure, which did not last very long at all.  The anesthesiologist told Sean to get his camera ready and he left my side.  Finally at 10:49 p.m. there was this huge pull, like they ripped my stomach off or something, and I heard Jonah cry a few times.  They showed him to me, and I remember reaching out for him but they told me to put my arms back down because, obviously, I was still being operated on.  My doctor told me that I would have needed a C-section anyway because poor Jo's umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck TWICE!  He was totally fine though, just as he had been throughout the entire labor. I made Sean stay with Jonah, even though he kept coming back to check on me.  As Jonah was getting cleaned up and weighed (7 lbs 12 oz), Sean took some pictures on his phone and showed me.  I laid there, freezing cold and shivering uncontrollably (apparently you can shake really really badly after giving birth) until they finally brought Jonah over to me.  They laid him on my chest and I remember how warm he was and how I felt so bad for being freezing cold.  He stayed with me as they finished stitching me up, then I was moved back to my hospital bed, given a warm blanket and my baby, and I returned to my room only about an hour and a half after the procedure began. 

Our first family photo :)

Daddy and his baby :)

So this crazy ordeal, lasting 36 hours, was how my birth story went, completely the opposite of what I wanted and what I had prepared for.  Of course, I had read up on C-sections and inductions so I knew what to expect when it happened, but emotionally I was not prepared for what they call "failure to progress".  I won't lie, a C-section is pretty traumatic.  My first night with Jonah I laid awake still feeling as though the doctor was pulling and tugging at my insides.  I haven't had any nightmares, but I do sometimes feel the pulling as I'm falling asleep.  Sean actually got a few pictures right as they pulled Jonah out, and I refused to see them at first but eventually convinced myself that it would help me cope with the stress.  I'm really glad I did look at the pictures because, one, they were pretty freaking cool, and, two, it did help me to cope a little better.  Physically I recovered very quickly.  I was only on pain medication for a week, and now four weeks later I just take over the counter ibuprofen twice a day.  I can go on long walks, I can lift, bend, and twist with no problem, and I can even sleep on my side again (finally!).

As I said earlier, this whole process was really my first lesson in being a mother; none of this is in my hands, really.  Whatever happens will happen, and it is all up to God.  I had to learn this when we were trying to get pregnant, when Jonah did not arrive on time, when I had complications during an induced labor, when I went through a C-section, and now even as I'm nursing.  We found out when Jonah was 2 weeks old that he had a tongue tie, after days of feeding him 16 times a day (I am not exaggerating).  He recently had this tongue tie removed, along with two buckle ties and an upper lip tie.  Poor little man's mouth was so tied up, no wonder he needed to nurse so often!  We're still trying to figure out how to get him the right amount of food he needs; I seem to have a pretty low milk supply that I hope will increase soon due to the ties getting fixed.  I absolutely did not want to use formula, but you know what?  I saw a great quote the other day-- we've all heard "breast is best", but this quote read "fed is best".  I've had to wrestle with all of these decisions which seem to go against everything I was hoping for my baby, but, in the end, its in God's hands.  I simply have to do what I can to keep Jo happy and healthy, and so far we're doing alright.