Mikey's Birth

Tomorrow is Mikey's birthday, so I thought I'd post his birth story. This is the first time I've read it in a long time and the first time since Joey's birth. It's amazing to me how vastly different my two birth experiences were. The whole labor is heavily punctuated by interventions and I can't help but remember feeling disregarded and patronized. And yet, I can't think negatively about Mikey's birth at all. I made the best decisions I could make in the moment. And the result was my firstborn. My handsome little man. My sweet, funny, and rambunctious little motor-head. I don't know what I would do without him.

Without further ado, Mikey's Birth Story:
On Monday, July 23 (39 weeks, 6 days gestation), I woke up with some minor upper abdominal / chest pain. At my doctor office’s recommendation, we went to the emergency room. Due to some borderline high blood pressure readings, the hospital resident and the OB on call from my practice decided to admit me and induce my labor. They administered Cervidil, and had me sleep until morning. In the morning, I hadn’t dilated any further. The Cervidil hadn’t worked at all. Dr. R (my favorite OB) checked me and sent me home, stating that since the Cervidil hadn’t worked and my BP readings had settled down into normal range it would be better to allow me to go into labor naturally. I was instructed to report for twice weekly non-stress tests (NST’s), where they would check the baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure as well as perform an ultrasound to measure amniotic fluid levels.

On Wednesday, July 25 (40 weeks, 1 day gestation), I went to the OB’s office for my 40 week appointment. I was informed that I was scheduled for an August 1 induction if I did not deliver on my own before then. I would be 41 weeks 1 day pregnant. I did NOT want to be induced before 42 weeks, but my doctors don't "let" a pregnant woman get that far into her pregnancy. I spent the next week very stressed out and in tears all the time that they were going to force me to induce when I knew that it was unnecessary and extremely risky. Based on what I’ve read, nearly half of medical inductions fail, resulting in cesarean delivery. This was confirmed anecdotally by the experience of a personal friend who is a Labor & Delivery nurse. Furthermore, the average first pregnancy is 41 weeks 3 days. Thus in my opinion, they were going to try to deliver my baby early. I felt very strongly that I would go into labor on my own if allowed to. I reported dutifully for my non-stress tests and passed them all with flying colors. My amniotic fluid levels were high, and the ultrasound tech said she'd never seen such a young-looking placenta so late in a pregnancy. In other words, my baby was doing just FINE inside my body. Meanwhile, my bloody show and Braxton Hicks contractions were increasing throughout that week. I knew I would soon go into labor on my own. The morning of July 31, John called and told them we were in early labor and would not be going in for the induction. Two days later, when I spoke to one of the doctors on the phone about wanting to delay the induction until 42 weeks, I was threatened that every day I waited meant "increased risk of fetal distress." It still makes me angry that she would try to bully me by telling me I was hurting my baby when there was NO medical evidence to support that assertion.

My contractions started around 7:30PM on August 2. I waited about an hour to be sure of what I was feeling and then told John. We called our moms around 11pm (both had been invited to attend the delivery with us). I labored at home, timing contractions online, watching tv, and surfing the internet. Our mothers arrived very early Friday morning and after some excited chitchat we all decided to try to get a little shuteye. I don’t think I slept for longer than 30 minutes though. By about 2am, the contractions were coming closer together at about every 4-5 minutes, and they were very uncomfortable. I was experiencing pretty strong back labor. I ran a warm bath hoping that would ease my discomfort some, but at about 5am, I woke John in tears and told him I didn’t think I was going to be able to withstand the pain without medication and that I thought we needed to get to the hospital. My mom drove to the hospital while John held me in the backseat. Once we got to the hospital and explained who we were and that I was in labor, it seems like every single nurse, resident, and orderly there needed to comment about our “missed” induction appointment two nights earlier. After accepting our scolding (did we have any choice?) we finally were settled into a delivery room. I was persuaded pretty easily to get an epidural due to the extremity of my back labor pain. This was a heart-wrenching decision for me because I had planned to deliver without pain meds, but my sunny-side-up boy caused my body to have something different to say about it. High blood pressure readings further complicated matters as anesthesiology refused to administer the epidural until blood-work came back from the lab. Meanwhile, John and our moms just kept talking me through and helping me breathe while I squeezed poor John’s hand into jelly. The resident offered me IV pain meds to take the edge off while we waited for the all-clear for the epidural. Desperate for relief, I agreed. I received the IV meds around 6:30 or 7am, and they immediately put me to sleep. When the anesthesiologist came back to administer the epidural, I was sound asleep and thus it could not be administered. The IV meds also slowed down my contractions to about every 8-10 minutes. My OB appeared and examined me. Concerned that labor had slowed down she stated that she wanted to break my water and see if that would pick up the pace of the contractions. She said that if it didn’t, they would begin to administer pitocin. However, immediately following artificial rupture of membranes (AROM), the labor nurse appeared with the bag of pitocin. When I told her that the doctor had suggested we could wait to see if AROM did the trick, she told me that she was following the doctor’s orders and she hooked the pitocin up to the drip. At about 10am, I finally received the epidural. After an exam indicated we had some time, John and my mom decided to go to the house to check on the cats, shower, and grab some diversions for the long (we thought) haul ahead. Around 12 noon, the OB examined me and told me I was fully dilated and it was time to start pushing. I was really nervous about this because John and my mom hadn’t returned yet. She told me not to worry because it would likely still be some time before the baby was actually out. John’s mom called him and advised him that he needed to get back to the hospital as soon as possible. He arrived back during my third or fourth set of pushes. And so, after only 17 hours of labor and about 30-45 minutes of pushing, Michael Allan was born at 12:56PM on Friday, August 3, 2007.

It still upsets me that we were bullied so regarding induction. And I was shocked when the staff at the hospital gave us lip about missing the induction. There I was in labor; clearly I'd been right, but they still wanted to belittle me. Fortunately, my favorite OB from my practice was the one to deliver me, and although she did comment about the missed induction, she was the most supportive of my decision among any of the medical staff.

My son was perfect and beautiful and weighed 7 pounds 2 ounces. Not so big for an "overdue" baby. But then it's my belief he wasn't overdue at all. My baby and my body knew the right time for him to join us.

Sunday night

9:15 on a Sunday night and John comes in our bedroom. I'm on my belly watching tv while Joey is drifting off to sleep in the Pack N Play next to the bed. "Asleep?" I ask, but I see the answer -- a negative -- following close on his Daddy's heels. "He's afraid of the thunder and wants Mommy to help him go to sleep." I sigh and follow my son into his bedroom. There is no thunder. But there is a Mommy to help him go to sleep.

9:18 I sit in the rocking chair and start to sing. I don't sing traditional lullabies: partly because I don't know the words to any lullabies and partly because it would bore me. So I sing Barenaked Ladies, Billy Joel, and Paul Simon. I watch the triangle of light from the ajar bedroom door waver on the ceiling as I rock back and forth. I watch the shadow of the oscillating fan move back and forth. I sing, "People say I'm crazy; I've got diamonds on the soles of my shoes," as a million thoughts race through my head: first among them that it's time I start this blog. Two songs and he's out and I silently slip out through his door.

9:30 I go back to the bedroom where Joey is all but out. I watch a few minutes of tv with John. Then I feel a small hand on my calf. "You were not in your chair." "Oh buddy," I say, "I thought you were asleep!" "You were not in your chair," he repeats, this sentence summarizing my role in his life quite neatly. I'm expected to be in a certain place in order to keep his world turning at the right speed and tilt. I was not where I was supposed to be, and even in his sleep he knew this. I try to get him to climb up and fall asleep on our bed, but he is distracted by the tv.

9:38 I follow him back and sing five more songs. Then I sit silently for five more minutes... just to be sure. I slip out once again and this time sleep sticks. Joey is still awake, but barely. We know that he will drift off on his own, so John and I go downstairs.

10:15 We've been trying to watch Burn Notice for about twenty minutes when Joey begins crying. And after a few minutes, it's evident that this is needy crying as opposed to overtired fussing. So I go back upstairs to nurse him back to sleep.

11:02 I go downstairs. "It's 11:00 and all of my children are sleeping," I say to John. He smiles. But it's too late now to watch Burn Notice. We watch Jeopardy! and go to bed.