Just another birth story

The reason I call this “just another birth story” is because that’s exactly what it is. Everyone who has ever had a baby has a birth story, and every single one of them is different. My story of giving birth to Owen isn’t anything special except to the three of us (myself, my husband and my baby boy). As almost any mother will tell you, the birth did not go as planned at all. Hold on for the ride, cause just reading about 31 hours of labor is no small feat.

I want to start by recognizing that this birth story is just as much mine as it is Brian’s and Owen’s. While all three of us had very different vantage points, it bonded us together in a way that I never could have imagined. I will forever look back on this time and remember the overwhelming feeling of love that I had for my husband, as well as the sacred bond Owen and I created while bringing him into the world. It took me 4 months to be able to tell our birth story without crying. Not because I was ashamed or upset, but because it brought back every single emotion that I felt while it was happening. It was tough to keep reliving all the emotions, especially since these were the biggest emotions I’d ever dealt with in my life so far. This is the story from my vantage point.

Our story started on Thursday, August 29th, my due date! Yes, that’s right, I went into labor on my due date shortly after midnight. The odds of giving birth on your due date are about 1 in 30 (if you did your math though, I did not in fact give birth on my due date). I woke up with some pain which turned out to be contractions. I got up and went downstairs to keep myself busy so Brian could sleep. I planned to labor at home for as long as possible before going to the hospital, so I knew that I would need my husband on top of his game later when the contractions were worse.

One of my favorite memories from our story is laboring by myself in the wee hours of the morning. The world was quiet and calm and I felt so connected with Owen. I finally woke my husband up around 4am because the contractions were getting stronger and closer together. While I paced the main floor of our condo, he was there giving me so much support while we got excited at the thought of finally meeting our son.

We called our doulas (yes, we had two of them) around 5:30am to let them know that I was definitely in labor. I happened to have a doctors appointment already scheduled at 8:30am, so together we decided to continue laboring at home until then so I could be checked for dilation. Turns out that I was already 4cm, so we decided to go to the hospital. I hadn’t had breakfast yet though and likely wouldn’t eat for a while, so my beautiful doula Jenny picked up some french toast sticks for me on the way! Just one of those things that I’ll remember forever…eating french toast sticks on the way to give birth. We arrived at the hospital and settled into our room. I threw on my birthing gown (I purchased one to bring with me so I felt comfortable and relaxed instead of feeling like a patient getting a procedure done - I highly recommend), turned on some music (helllooooo Beyonce), and was ready to do this thang!

I can honestly say that I was excited to give birth. If you know me - you know I love trying new things and I love overcoming obstacles. This checked both those boxes. Not once had I been scared or worried about giving birth while I was pregnant. Don’t get me wrong, I knew it would be tough as hell and would also involve pain, but none of that mattered to me.

What mattered most to me about giving birth was that I was connected to my baby and that he entered the world in a calm and happy space with his loving parents. I wanted to be able to listen to my body. I wanted to be able to feel everything that was happening because I was absolutely fascinated with the birthing process and how amazing the female body is. I honestly didn’t care about the pain because I knew that it would only be temporary. It was more important to me to feel and know the process than it was to be pain free. Being able to connect with my body and my baby meant that I wasn’t planning to take any pain relief measures (though I was open to trying nitrous).

I spent a number of hours laboring. I utilized the huge tub in my birthing room a few times which I loved. Time seemed to be speeding by and standing still at the same time. I was managing the contractions pretty well still and after some time the nurse came to check my dilation. I made it to 8cm! For the remainder of our story, I have no concept of time. Things just started blurring together and I just remember the events.

I continued to labor for a while but could not get past 8cm (for those who might not know, 10cm is the magic number you need to get to in order to start pushing). My water still hadn’t broken yet, so we decided to manually break it to try and get things moving along. After the nurse broke my water, the contractions and pain increased significantly. Unfortunate for me, it did not end up helping me to dilate any quicker. I did make it to 9cm but was stuck there for some time.

By this point, I was completely delirious. The contractions were incredibly intense and I was very tired. Remember, I started this whole thing at midnight without any sleep in between, so I went into this event with only about 3 hours of sleep under my belt. If I had to guess, it’s probably closing in on midnight the following day, so I’ve been in labor for about 24 hours now.

This is where the story gets hard. This is where all the emotions started rushing in, and still rush in even as I type it. This is where I was falling asleep in between contractions because I was just so damn tired. This is where I looked at my husband and I could see how much pain he felt watching me go through this.

The pain eventually overtook me as I grew physically weaker by the minute. I just didn’t have any more stamina left after all the energy I used up to this point without sleep or food. It had been too long and I had no idea how much longer we still had to go, so I decided I needed an epidural to get me through to the finish line.

Time seemed to stand still after I made this decision. To me, I felt like hours had passed from the time I decided to get the epidural to the time when I actually got it. In reality, it was probably like 45 minutes. But to a woman in labor who is having contractions every 2-3 minutes each lasting more than 1 minute…it can seem like an eternity. After I finally got it though, the room cleared out so Brian and I could get some sleep. I still had 1cm to go and I needed to recharge my batteries to get ready for pushing. I believe it took about 2 hours for me to finally get to 10cm. At this point it’s probably around 2am on Friday.

After the nap, I felt ready to go! I was so ready to bring Owen into this world and I wanted to finish strong. We turned the music back on, the whole room got back in the groove and spirits were high! I was pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and pushing…and pushing………and pushing………….and pushing. He just wasn’t coming down. After 2 hours of pushing, it’s safe to say that my high spirits were quickly diminishing again. I was getting tired again. I remember the overwhelming feeling of frustration that I couldn’t get my baby out. We could see his head, but he just wouldn’t come any farther. My doctor had said that we’ll continue to try and get him down far enough to be able to use forceps to help get him out, but he still had a little ways to go in order to do that.

Another hour of pushing and the doctor came in to check progress. She gave me the devastating news that Owen had not come down any farther. I use the word devastating because I completely broke down when she told me that. I knew what that meant. I instantly started crying because I was so desperately trying to get him out on my own. I didn’t want it to be all for nothing. I didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t do it. As stated above, I love overcoming obstacles. This meant I was not able to overcome this obstacle on my own anymore. I needed to have a cesarean section.

I asked everyone to leave the room so I could have a moment alone with my husband. I just needed to cry. I needed to breakdown for a minute. I needed to take a second with Brian to recognize how far we’d come, how long it had taken to get there, and how we will finally be meeting our boy soon. He made made sure I knew how proud he was of me. We took this moment to reconnect and shift our focus on the joy of meeting our son.

I finally got in the surgery room and I was beyond delirious. I was falling asleep during the surgery and I remember struggling with the guilt of feeling so tired and all I wanted to sleep, but yet I was about to become a mother. I was thinking that I should feel more excited, but yet all I wanted to do was close my eyes because I was too tired to become a mom right now.

Of course the C-Section wasn’t without it’s struggles. Owen had made it far down enough in the birth canal that he needed to be pushed back up in order to get him out. My doctor also needed to do a “T” incision (more on that later). The surgery seemed to be taking a lot longer than it should, but Brian was right there by my side, both of us just waiting to hear our little O cry.

Oh the joy we felt when we finally did hear that cry. We heard him before we saw him, and we looked at each other with tears in both of our eyes. He was here. At 7:45am that Friday I became a mother, and Brian became a father. 31 hours and 45 minutes. I can safely say that I have never experienced anything more mentally, physically or emotionally challenging than what I faced in this time during labor and delivery.

But while my baby was finally here, I was not done with the challenges. I continued to struggle to stay awake. They asked me if I wanted to hold Owen while they wheeled me to the recovery room, but I said no. At this point, I still hadn’t even held my baby. I was so weak. I was coming in and out of consciousness and it made me so sad that after all that, I wasn’t strong enough to hold my baby boy.

Another saddening factor in all this was that I couldn’t nurse Owen and have the skin to skin boding time right after he was born. Again, I didn’t trust myself to hold him because of how weak I was and because I kept falling asleep. This was so important to me and it broke my heart that I couldn’t bond with him in this way right after birth.

Side note: I will forever be grateful to the wonderful nurse who expressed some milk (colostrum) from me while I was sleeping to give to Owen thru a syringe. Yes, this really happened…

I don’t remember the hours that followed. I was deliriously trying to process what had just happened while also trying to care for a newborn. I was barely awake, not really understanding what was going on around me but simultaneously so tuned in to the fact that I now have this beautiful babe. I was finally a mother, and had so many mixed feelings about it in that moment. I wanted to spend all the time with him and bond, but I also needed to rest and eat and care for myself so I could take care of him.

Eventually I was able to get some rest and some much needed food and was finally able to hold my baby boy and take it all in. Yes, this is what it was all for. And it was all totally worth it.

Looking back now, I know I did all the right things. I pushed my body to limits it’s never seen before. My mind was put to the test in order to overcome the pain and all the obstacles that were thrown our way in the process. No part of me feels like I failed, or that I didn’t do enough, or feels “less than” because I had a c-section. The surgery is just one part of our story, it’s not the whole thing. I’m so happy to have labored for as long as I did.

Personally, I think the most important thing about birth stories is that we take the time to process them afterwards. Some births are easy, some are hard, and some are harder, but they are all mentally, physically and emotionally challenging.

If you made it all the way to the end of my story, thanks for coming along for the ride ;-) I’ll do a separate blog post on my postpartum journey cause let’s face it…we’re out of time here. And for the record, I’m writing this while 6 months postpartum and I cried over 10 times while writing it out. It is still a very emotional part of my life, and that’s totally okay.