Gideon's Birth Story

WARNING: This post is LONG, and probably overly detailed. This post is not for the faint of heart, in fact this post is really only for me. I treat my blog like a virtual journal, a dumping ground for whatever I have banging around inside my head. Most posts I never share, and will forever remain "drafts", and that's okay. Sometimes, however, I choose to share with you little pieces of what makes me, me. And this day is one of them. This day is one I never want to forget, hence, a very long, overly detailed post.


Let me start with a little background information. 

I was due with Porter (my first) on July 29, 2012. 

On July 30th, I was set to be induced. After spending all night, and most of the next day in the hospital, I only progressed to dilating to 1 cm. Needless to say, they sent me home. Baby-less. Empty-handed. And feeling depressed. They call this a failed induction. One week later, we tried again. Finally, Porter was born on August 6th. Eight days late. By force. 

This time I wanted things to be different. My body went through hell to get him here. It was forceful, and physically traumatic. My recovery was by far the worst part of my pregnancy/labor. 

So this time I made sure to do everything I could to help my body go into labor on its own. I got a foot zone. I went to the chiropractor to get my body and hips put in the right place for a good labor. I even got acupuncture while I was there-He told me that most women go into labor within 24 hours of treatment-Didn't happen. I did all the walking. The bouncing on exercise balls. Rubbed all the clary sage I could handle on my abdomen and ankles. I moved my entire household, and that didn't work. I did everything short of jumping off my kitchen counter. I even took castor oil...twice. The castor oil was pretty effective, even though it didn't send me into labor. It gave me hard contractions, they just weren't consistent enough for me to go running to the hospital. 

My due date with Gideon was August 1st. That day came and went like I knew it would.

On Thursday, August 7th, at 10 am, I had an appointment with my midwife. She told me I was dilated to a 5+. I could have kissed her! The week before, I was a two, and had been for a couple weeks. (This is why I think the castor oil was so worth taking, I took it on the 6th, so I'm positive that's what dilated me). My husband and I decided that if I had progressed from a 2, that we wanted to be induced because at this point, I was getting no sleep. And I didn't want another sleepless night unless it involved waking up to feed my baby. 

Anyway, my midwife told me to go home, gather my things and come back to the hospital at 2 o'clock. 

We got settled into our room shortly after 2 pm. I told my nurse that I didn't want pitocin. I wanted them to break my water to see if I could do the rest on my own. 

At 3:20 pm. my midwife broke my water and told me I was dilated to a six. At this point, I was having firm, but inconsistent contractions. So, I asked my nurse to bring me an exercise ball to bounce on. (I have to say, this was one of the major pros to not being hooked up to pitocin-you're allowed to be out of bed.)

Ashley, my sister, came straight to the hospital after she got off work. (This was probably around 6 pm.) She pushed me to keep bouncing on the ball...and to bounce harder when she noticed I had slowed down. 

My husband was feeling impatient, and wanted me to get an epidural to speed things up, but I didn't feel like I needed an epidural. Sure, my contractions were hard, and getting stronger, but it wasn't unbearable. It really wasn't even that painful. If it had been, I assure you, I would've asked for an epidural-I'm a boob. So, I told him that I'd ask to be checked, and if I hadn't progressed much, then I would get put on pitocen, which would inevitably lead to an epidural. My nurse checked me (Not sure on the time. Time became irrelevant to me while I was in labor), and told me I was an 8+. I swear I heard angels singing, 8+ and I've had no medication, and I wasn't curled up in the fetal position hoping for sweet death to relieve me of my pain?? Was this real life?? I decided right then and there that I was doing this thing naturally. 

Then, my sister Amber surprised me by making the hour drive, and coming to the hospital. She brought a whole new energy with her. She was pumped! And she made me pumped! It was contagious. She suggested we "dance this baby out". So, there we were, in room 13. Me, and my two beautiful sisters, shaking our "groove thangs". It was...for lack of a better word, epic. One of those moments where you feel infinite. It was my favorite part of my entire labor. The hip movements, the laughter, being on my feet; it was all helping my contractions. They started getting harder, so Ashley suggested I envision colors, which was hilarious, and just made me laugh more. So...we danced, and envisioned colors. "This one's gonna be pink!!" I can vividly recall these very memorable moments, as if I was there now. And, as strange as it sounds, I could totally see pink. 

Some time passed, and Amber had to leave. 

My nurse asked me to get back in bed so she could monitor the baby, since I hadn't been hooked up this whole time. I know now that it was this moment where I should have said "no". Getting back in bed was a BIG. FAT. MISTAKE. When I was up moving around, I could barely feel my contractions. Sure, they were there, and they had a good amount of pressure behind them, but I can truthfully say that they weren't "painful". Once I got in bed, however, they changed. My abdomen was cramped sitting there, it needed space, it needed to be stretched out. I couldn't move with the pain, I couldn't distract myself. It was all pressure, all the time. 

The pressure was really low, deep in my pelvic bone. I had heard of abdominal pressure, and of back pain, and ways to counter-pressure them...but pelvic pressure?? How do you counter-act that one? (This is where it would've been nice to know I was giving birth naturally, I would've gone to a class for techniques like these.) Thankfully, my midwife came in to see how I was doing, and showed us a great way to help with the pressure. (In case you're wondering, you have someone push your knees toward your belly.) My husband started doing this right away. While he was pushing on my knees, Ashley was brushing my hair and telling me to "breathe through the contractions". 

My contractions were getting more and more intense. They were stronger, and lasting MUCH longer. There was almost no relief. It was like one loooonnnng contraction, all the time. I was TIRED. If only I could just push pause, give my body a moment to breathe, give myself some time to relax...if only. But this was crunch time my friends!! 

Andrew asked Ashley to take a turn pushing on my knees. He was exhausted. He had been exerting all of his strength because he was pushing THAT hard. I had no idea at the time, but he had been pushing on my knees for an hour. So, Ashley started pushing on my knees, but she wasn't strong enough. I needed pressure somewhere else, anywhere else! I just needed more... distractions. So, Andrew hugged me. OH MY GOODNESS. Had I ever been hugged before? Why did this feel so amazing? I'll tell you why. DISTRACTION. 

Ashley put on some music for me, which was another great distraction. If you know anything about me at all, then you know how I feel about music. How do I put this into words??...Music...music CURES EVERYTHING. I was able to sing, and hum, and listen. And like I keep repeating, DISTRACT myself. Are you sensing a theme here?? I just kept trying to envision his head dropping down into position. I kept envisioning my muscles relaxing and allowing it to happen. I have no idea if this worked or not, but I like to think it had some effect. 

*****

I feel that at this moment in the story, I should pause and explain something. My labor was very quiet. I am not one to shout and holler from pain. When I find myself in an uncomfortable situation, I bury myself deeper, shrink as small as I can, try to take up as little space as possible, I focus. I focus on not falling apart, on not turning into a blubbering idiot, on not shaking uncontrollably, on not curling up into the fetal position and rocking back and forth. When I am in pain, my senses are over-loaded. Talking is too much. Making eye contact is too much. Hell, sometimes breathing is too much. In other words, I get very quiet. 

*****

So, I was envisioning his head dropping, and my muscles relaxing. All the while, focusing on not hyperventilating, on breathing slowly and deeply. And before I knew it, I was screaming...shouting...yelling that I needed to push. Not because it was painful, but because it was URGENT. I NEEDED to push "RIGHT NOW"!!! My husband was on it like blue freaking bonnet. He pushed the nurse's button, told them I needed to push "RIGHT NOW", and even ran out the door to the nurses station to make sure they were coming "RIGHT NOW". I swear, I was still yelling by the time he had done all of this. 

And right then, my mother walked in the door. I will never forget the look on her face. It was more epic than that of a "deer in headlights". She was down the hall when she heard me start yelling, so she bolted to my room. She was out of breathe, wide eyed, and looked way more panicked than me. And that's saying something. 

I have no idea what happened between that moment and me pushing. I was so focused on not pushing, I couldn't think about anything else. My midwife came in, I think just after my mom arrived. Between the slew of nurses, family members, and my photographer, I had no idea, in that moment where people were in relation to the room. NOW I know that Ashley was on my left shoulder, Andrew standing next to her, and my mother on my right. 

I remember everyone was in position, my midwife was standing back, looking at me, a contraction was coming, and she wasn't saying anything. So, I asked her if I could push, and she said "Go for it". 

Now, my only experience pushing had been with an epidural. I was mostly numb, and, while it only took a couple pushes to get Porter out, I had no idea what to expect NOT being numb. So, the first push was a "test push". I needed to get a feel for how hard, and exactly where to apply the pushing. The second push got Gideon's head out....Let me repeat again, my labor was very quiet...until this moment. 

As Gideon's head was coming out I SCREAMED, louder than I think I'd ever screamed before. My sister has since told me it was traumatizing to see me scream like that, and I believe her. 

Women that have babies naturally talk about feeling a "ring of fire". I was prepared for that. And I can tell you that I definitely felt it, in fact, not only did I feel it, I SAW it. In the words of an inspired Johnny Cash, "...I went down, down, down and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire..." I'm pretty sure that song is actually about child birth. 

Anyway, I pushed his head out, and started screaming. I remember, I screamed so long, I actually had the thought process to stop screaming. I tried to stop, but realized that I NEEDED to scream to push him out. I just couldn't push hard enough without that extra umph. So, I pushed a third and final time, and Gideon's shoulders came loose, along with the rest of him. He was born at 9:30 p.m. 

*****

I am so grateful for my two, very opposite experiences with child birth. I love both of my son's birth stories for different reasons. I am not an advocate for either one. I would never dream of telling a mother which way the "correct" way to deliver is. I believe wholeheartedly in a woman's right to choose what is best for her and her baby. I do know, however, what works best for ME. 

After having Porter, I felt broken. After a failed induction, waiting a week, being induced AGAIN, and the very painful recovery process...coupled with having several issues breastfeeding, from not being able to produce hardly anything to getting a yeast infection in my breast...How could I not feel broken? Yes, I was completely, and utterly in LOVE with my baby, and regretted NOTHING, but it still left me feeling slightly disappointed in myself. Or rather, my body.

After having Gideon, I felt empowered. My body dilated on its own. My body underwent hours of heavy contractions with ease. My body pushed a BABY out, with no medication. And my body bounced right back. My recovery process has been much quicker, and I've been able to produce enough milk thus far. It's safe to say that I have never felt more confident in my body, and its capabilities. 

Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it's because Gideon is my second, and my body has "done this before". I'm sure that is a factor. But now I know, that if I have another baby, I'm willing to give this natural thing another shot...maybe with a few classes first. ;) 

When growing up, I never envisioned myself having a baby naturally. In fact, if you had asked me after having Porter, I still would have answered that I would never have a baby naturally. I don't know what came over me, but whatever it was, I'm glad that it did. 

PHEW...told you. LONG post!!! If you were a trooper, and stuck it out, I applaud you! And I guess you deserve a sizable reward...but all I have to offer is my FAVORITE picture from Gideon's birth. 

So, without further ado...I give you...the moment Gideon was being born.