We found out about Fleck on March 12, 2012. It was finally a
nice day and Amelia and I played outside until Daddy came home, greeted with a
positive pregnancy test. Amelia wore her “Big Sister Amelia” shirt that I had
bought months before in anticipation of this day. We celebrated with dinner out
and started talking about life with two kids.
Fast forward 8ish months to Thanksgiving. Fleck was due on
the 22nd, which was Thanksgiving Day. I was huge and ready to not be
pregnant anymore but also mourning the loss of having only one child. They are
so much easier to care for in utero, but so much cuter outside. We had a
fantastic dinner at Josie and David Skavdohl’s house and I drank a cup of
Josie’s “Uterine Tonic” homeopathic tea before bed. All day Friday I felt a bit
crampy, I figured it was the tonic, but started having some irregular squeezes
near evening. They didn’t hurt too much but I knew something was starting. Rob
and I played Scrabble during Amelia’s nap and I had to pause from my
word-forming for a few contractions here and there. After another cup of
uterine tonic, we went to bed early…about 9:30 hoping to get a full night sleep
before going into labor.
Silly us. By 10PM, I was breathing hard during contractions
and starting to remember what labor felt like from almost exactly two years
before. I was laying on my left side in bed, watching my cell phone for a rough
estimate of how long and frequent contractions were when Rob, not sleeping
because of my noisy breathing, reminded me of the contraction app I had
installed on my phone to do just that. I timed for about 20 minutes when I
realized they were averaging 1-2 minutes long and 3-4 minutes apart. I thought
they were pretty strong, although I knew they were nothing like what was to
come, and we called the midwives. Jen returned our call quickly and told me
what I wanted to hear: “if you are ready to be where you want to have the baby,
it’s time to come in”.
By 11:30 we had called Laura McGillvray to come watch Amelia
and were packing the last few things for the hospital. I quickly found that
being on my hands and knees was the most comfortable position for me and
dropped to the floor when a contraction started. I managed to put on sweat
pants, had a contraction, put on my shirt, another contraction, packed the
phone charger, another contraction, peeked in to say bye to my
soon-to-not-be-only-child, and was on my hands and knees again. Things were
moving much faster than last time and I was glad Laura was already on her way.
Rob and I were in the kitchen, me on the floor, when Laura
arrived. I handed off the monitor and we jumped in the car. I had a few
contractions on the way in and one in front of the security guards at the
entrance to Mercy. Rob went to park while I headed upstairs myself. I had to
drop to the floor twice while signing in and was glad Rob showed up in time to
help me to our room just before 2AM. So
much for getting a good night sleep.
Jen met us in our room. At this point, I was able to happily
talk and move about between contractions, although when one came, I would have
to really concentrate on my breathing. I remembered from attending Elania
Pfaff’s last birth that moaning and relaxing the jaw can help dilate the cervix
so I tried to make my room sound as much like a cow stable as possible. I
thought about Mary when she gave birth to Jesus and wondered if the cow’s
mooing helped her through contractions, or if she just wished he would take up
residence in a stable without a laboring woman. The moaning did help and was
much more relaxing than the intense tachypnea that I brought upon myself during
Amelia’s birth. I started to establish a rhythm: breathing slowly when the
tightening started, increasing my breathing and then moaning through the peak.
I could tell they were getting more intense when the pitch of the moan turned
into a high squeal before tapering back down. We were getting somewhere.
Over the next few hours, I labored in bed with what I
thought were really strong contractions. I was excited that this time, labor
was progressing more quickly and hopefully we’d have a baby before Jen’s shift
was over at 7:00. With Amelia, I had experienced piggyback contractions: one
big contraction followed by one or two less intense contractions before the
first one waned. This was slightly annoying. I was expecting this to happen
again and was pleasantly surprised when each contraction actually ended, giving
me a much needed break before the next one. I spent time on my hands and knees,
which I preferred still, but at Jen’s suggestion, I labored on my left side and
then right to hopefully get Fleck’s melon wedged appropriately between my
pelvic bones. I had grand ambitions of walking the halls through contractions,
doing squats to bring the baby down, and dancing to “I’m pregnant and I know
it” all while calmly humming hymns and sipping my “Pam’s special cocktail” (OJ,
cranberry, and gingerale). These things did not happen with my first labor and
I’m not sure what I was smoking when I thought they would this time but when my
uterus started tightening, the last thing I wanted to do was move. I would grip
the hand rails or Rob’s hand, start the breathing/moaning and pray that it
ended quickly.
By about 6AM, I was starting to feel pushing sensations! I
was working quite hard with each contraction and although Jen had not checked
my cervix yet I was sure I was almost there. Thankfully, midwives are amazing
and can check a cervix from just about any position. I certainly did not want
to be on my back so Jen checked me where I was.
The news came back: “SVE 3.5/60/-2”
This is bad news. In lay terms that means I was only dilated
3.5cm, my cervix was just over half way thinned out (effaced) and Fleck’s head
was not even down there yet. In laboring woman terms it means cry. And that’s
what I did. How could I possible only be 3.5? I had been working so hard. With
Amelia it took fourteen hours to get from 3.5 to fully. I was in so much pain
and couldn’t imagine doing this for another fourteen hours. I broke down. I was
an emotional wreck. I just kept saying “I can’t do this” then another
contraction would come, then I cried more. The notes say “patient very
frustrated and tearful,” that was a polite way to put it. Thankfully, my nurse,
Kristen, was amazing. She listened to me, helped me through, told me to take it
one contraction at a time.
Jen had said that she could barely feel Fleck’s head because
the bag of waters was so full and bulging. Turns out, this is why I was not
dilating, (although I didn’t realize this until much later). The bag of waters
was not strong enough to dilate my cervix but the stubborn thing would not pop.
I had a similar problem with Amelia, apparently I grow steel tanks of water in
my uterus.
I went on like this for a while, not knowing what to do. I
knew I didn’t want an epidural but at the time I desperately wanted the pain to
stop. Apparently I asked for one multiple times but Jen encouraged me to try
nubain instead. I had nubain with Amelia’s birth and although it let me rest
between contractions, I didn’t like how it made me feel. It produces a
tipsy-drunk like feeling and I don’t like that at all. I eventually agreed to
the nubain and was thankful that some relief was on the way.
Jen left at 7:30 and Ellie and Eve (a student midwife) came
in. I had planned on showing Ellie my sweet baby in my arms when she came on
shift but the sweet baby had other plans. I was able to rest between
contractions, which had slowed to about 5 minutes apart with the nubain. I
don’t remember much of the next few hours, which is good. Ellie wrote that the
current plan was “supportive care until ready to make different plan”.
Reasonable.
By 10:30 I was ready to make a different plan. The nubain
was wearing off, I was awake more, and the contractions were more painful.
Ellie checked me and generously told me I was at 4. Not much progress for four
hours of contractions. My body sure likes to hold on to these babies. Ellie
offered to break my water but I wasn’t quite ready for that. I knew that would
make the contractions much more painful and I felt weak and weary from many
hours of work and needed a bit more rest. I rested for a while and then at
someone’s suggestion spent some time in the shower, leaning on the bed, on my
hands and knees, left side, right side, left side, right…..nothing seemed to be
happening except I was in pain.
Finally around 1:40PM I was ready to be done and although I
knew it would be even more painful (if that was possible) I asked Ellie to
break my water. I was on my hands and knees at the time and 6cm dilated. I was
fully effaced but Fleck’s stubborn head was still at -1, not even touching my
cervix. That bulging bag of waters needed to go. With Ellie’s instruction, Eve
broke my water at 1:47 and I immediately regretted the decision. With the steel
walls crumbling and a tsunami exiting my vagina, Fleck’s head slammed into my
cervix and the pain was beyond compare. I remember some pretty intense pain
from Amelia’s birth but it was nothing like this. My whole body felt as though
it was being ripped apart.
I’m sure I terrified
Rob and I screamed and cried and writhed with the all but continuous
contraction that followed. I wanted drugs and I wanted them now. I couldn’t do
this any longer and at this point I imagined hours of this to come. After all I
was only 6 cm still. Pain does not describe what I felt. Pain is when you stub
your toe, or you bite your tongue, or your hand gets cut off by a dull spoon.
This was beyond pain. Ellie ordered more
nubain but by the time it was drawn up she refused to give it saying the baby would
be here before it could take effect. I was on my own. Just me, Fleck, and the
uterus I wanted to forever banish to the moon. The only thing that kept me
going was the fact that I had to. I almost immediately had the urge to push and
was coached through “short, grunty pushes” since I wasn’t fully dilated yet. I found
myself pushing quite hard between my short, grunty pushes because I knew the
only way for this pain to stop was to amputate at the diaphragm STAT or get the
baby out. I strongly considered the amputation.
After what seemed like forever and a split second all at the
same time, I heard the nurse calling for backup and Ellie saying “the baby is
coming!” At 2:04 I was fully dilated and given the go-ahead to really push. Eve
was instructing me to pant and not push so hard so I wouldn’t tear but if you remember,
I was ready to amputate the lower half of my body to make this stop so I was
hardly concerned about a little tear. She was putting pressure back on the
baby’s head and I’m not sure if I shouted this out loud or just thought it but
the words “I am trying to get this baby OUT, stop pushing it back IN” existed
somewhere in my consciousness.
Two minutes later, her head was out, and with
one more push at 2:07PM, a “vigorous”, though quiet, baby popped out. (Side note: the term
“popped out” clearly was not coined by anyone who has actually pushed a BABY
out of her vagina). Still on my hands and knees (clearly my preferred delivery
position) I couldn’t see the baby and didn’t believe she was out. For those of
you who have not had such an experience, this end point does not feel as clear
cut as one might think. It still partially feels like there is a baby clogging
the birth canal. I guess if I had thought about it (I wasn’t thinking much at
the time), I would have realized that the pain was gone and therefore the baby
must be out. It’s a messy, emotional, dramatic few seconds and fluids,
stretched out everything, commotion, and surging hormones give the illusion
that maybe it hasn’t come out yet. I remember feeling unsure as to what was
going on. Was the baby born? Was I done?
Then, why don’t I hear any baby cries. I panicked and, sure the baby was
dead, shrieked “why isn’t it crying?” Apparently she was just fine, wide-eyed,
and taking everything in as she still does today.
Someone helped me flip over and sit down and the only thing
in the world that could have been better than labor being over was this tiny
girl they placed in my arms. As Eve passed her up to me, Rob announced she was
a girl and I was in love. Even writing this, 6 months later, I am tearing up
remembering that moment. You might think after having one baby, it wouldn’t be
quite as emotional the second time but you’d be wrong. She was amazing. I
almost instantly forgot the agony I was in just moments before as this
beautiful baby stared up at me as she has done so many times since.
She was perfect. She looked at us, seemingly already
familiar with our faces, then closed her eyes and rested for a while on my
chest. It must have been hard work for her too, and I could tell she was glad
to be done. Rob cut the cord after it finished pulsating and she let out a few
reassuring cries, just to make everyone happy, and then settled down with me. Her
tiny shriveled fingers wrapped around my pinky, her little legs curled up on my
now squishy belly, and we just stared at her. She was here, finally, our second
little girl. We named her Erica.
