A small step back for now, the birth story.

For those who would like to read about the birth...   I am writing it now because writing it all down is very comforting to me.  And I am sharing it with the world because I believe our story may one day be a comfort to someone else.

I just want to preface all of this next post by saying that I feel unsure as to how some of you may take our updates.  I'm sure at some point sharing in the grief becomes difficult, and certainly our intentions are not to make anyone feel drained or dragged.  But inherently, our updates are almost in a way personally cathartic for both me and Ben.  We discussed it and agreed that we each seem to feel so much better after taking a little bit of time to jot down our feelings, or the events that have transpired.  We are each (in our own unique ways) very expressive people.  We don't ever usually hold in any kind of feeling for very long… and we have always felt that communication is key.  Some of these things may be hard for some of you who know us well to hear or stomach.  Or maybe some of you find a place of insight or comfort to see and hear about how we are getting on.  Either way, I personally feel that if my words could be of any good in this world, I'd rather they be out there for anyone and everyone who wants to share in them. 


So, Ok, this is the story of the birth itself.  For 9 months the idea of the "birth" was really important to me.  I need a way to express it.  I need to get it out.  I need to purge the story from my head so I can move past it and begin the process of walking in all the new changes that have happened in just the few days since.  I am writing this post on Tuesday.  I gave birth just before the sunrise last Saturday.

Where to begin?  It seems a bit silly to talk about my birth experience at this point in time.  But I know that other families may be dealing with the same questions, the same issues… and may want to hear a bit more detail, or hear the timeline of the events leading up to the moments of tragedy and sadness.  Perhaps then, for them and for myself as well, a better understanding of the whole story, and not just all the sad bits, can make this process seem whole.  I consider this to be just one small piece of the whole story, the whole blog.  I cannot stand on it's own.  It is only one small part of this journey.   

From previous posts here on my blog you can read all about the fears and thoughts that lead up to the time I went in to the hospital for my gentle induction to begin.  Just a little before 5pm on Thursday last week, Ben and I packed our bags, loaded up the car and with many butterflies in my stomach I walked out of the house.  When we arrived I was comforted by how slowly things seemed to move at the hospital.  It felt better to me that I wasn't be rushed anywhere to do anything… especially since I found the whole situation of artificially inducing the labor to be a bit scary.  I went through a basic check-in and they took my BP and got me on an IV drip of fluids.  Around 9 or 10 (I think, these details are a bit fuzzy) I was given Cervadil… which is just a little insert thing that goes next to my cervix to "ripen" it.  I was to basically just to go to sleep with that in all night and they would check me in the morning to see if I had dilated any more.  Ben and I tried to get some sleep.  I was seriously so nervous with anticipation but not nearly as much as the day leading up to actually getting to the hospital.  I was given an Ambien, a little sleeping aid which I'd never taken before.  I was nervous to take it as I didn't want to feel drugged out ever, but after waking up wide awake at 5am that morning I remarked to myself in the quiet, dark labor and delivery room that a couple glasses of red wine would have done me better.  I woke my sweet Ben, unfortunately because I wasn't really supposed to get up and move around so he had to hand me things.  We ended up watching the royal wedding on TV.  

In the morning they checked and I was around 4cm dilated.  Time for the Pitocin.  I felt very secure after discussing with my amazing midwife, Amy, that this Pitocin induction would really feel like a natural onset of labor… and not the horror stories you tend to read about a lot on the internet or see on scary shows on TV.  They started me at 2 units (which seriously, feels like nothing), and then bumped it up by 2 every hour, but not to exceed 6 units.   So after 3 hours I was at 6 units (must have been about 12 noon on Friday at this point) and they would just leave me at 6 until my contractions were intense enough to take me off of it and see if my own body could supply the contractions itself.  For the record, most inductions actually start out at 6 units and increase by 2 every half-hour until sometimes reach anywhere between 16-20 units.  Oh man, I can tell you that after about 5 or 6 hours of just hovering at 6 units, I could NEVER have handled anything more than that without an epidural.  From around 3 or 4 in the afternoon until about 8 or 9pm on Friday my contractions gradually built and built.  Nearly 12 hours of going from "oh, that might have been a contraction but I'm not sure it kinda felt like a little period cramp"… to  "mmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoooooooooohhhhh ohhhhhhh ohhhhh ohhhh   ughhhhhh!!!!". 

Around 10 or 11pm on Friday, I think, they stopped the Pitocin and monitored me for a while to see what would happen.  After about an hour of monitoring, with my contractions still continuing to grow, they removed the IV and I was able to get in the shower for a bit.  While the warm water was nice on my skin and all, I was finding it hard to stand even then as my legs were literally quivering with exhaustion.  In the shower is when I began a little ritual of shaking my open palm (kinda like waving at someone) but using it to kinda tap or hit things gently.  Along with vocalizing my pain with long, drawn out moans and low, primal utterances (some of which were downright child-like, as if part of my experiences from all my times of life were all being mustered up to the surface to help me cope) I was somehow able to endure each one. 

After the shower, the water birthing tub was prepared and I was able to get in.  I want to point out here that I was CONSTANTLY monitored.  They were poking and prodding my belly from all directions between each and every contraction (seriously like every 3 minutes… for HOURS) to listen to his heart rate and make sure that all was OK.  Ben mentioned later that the monitoring (in the moment) was almost annoying.  Sometimes they would press my belly so hard with a sensor that it would bring on the next contraction… no rest for me!  But we are SO GLAD for this persistence.  I think it was this attention to detail that really helped us all to understand later that the situation with Wolfie now is one that we were never able to avoid, that we all did the best we could and that every single precaution was taken to prevent any negative outcomes.  There will be no doubt in my mind that both Wolfie and I received the absolute best medical care and attention during the labor that anyone could ever expect.

Around 1am, while I was in the tub, I began to feel an uncontrollable reflex in my stomach during a contraction.  I'm sorry to be graphic (as if I haven't been graphic already) but the only thing I can relate it to is the muscle-reflex you feel in your abdomen when you vomit uncontrollably…. only it was pushing everything down and not up.   I was in the tub for a total of 4 hours (the maximum allowed) before I got back out.  But in the tub is when "transition" really began.  Active pushing began about an hour after I got into the tub.  Unfortunately at the same time, I began to feel my contractions wear down.  Each contraction began to feel more like an urge to push, but I really didn't feel my uterus helping me out.  So, needless to say, this made the pushing *really* hard.  I remember during one of my resting times (like a few minutes between a couple contractions) thinking a bit on all those diaphragm exercises I did in college and highschool for theatre and wondering if perhaps they could be helping me now. 

My midwife, Amy, and doula, Que, were fantastic in coaching me through everything.  I had no idea what to expect but I never felt scared, never felt alone, never felt abandoned.  I felt safe and secure in what was happening to me.

When I had to get out of the tub, the thought occurred to me that this might lead to a c-section.  In that moment I was completely OK with that.  I think at that point I'd already been in active labor for about 6 or 7 hours and had been pushing for 3 or 4.  But, I got on the bed, had a few pushes again sans-pitocin.  Amy re-started the Pit again for me though in the very last hours because things just really needed to progress faster. .  I tried several positions on the bed… whatever it takes.  But I eventually settled with the position that most "natural enthusiasts" regard to be the worst for delivery.  I was on my back, slightly reclined up, with Que and a kind but perfectly confident nurse holding my legs back with knees to my armpits.   Ben had one hand on the nurses side (I think I strangled his fingers), and Que had the other hand with her free hand.   At this point in the labor i was so exhausted that I needed to focus all my energy on my abdomen (and not standing or squatting with my legs, or trying to hold myself up by my arms or anything).  Amy also re-assured me that from what she could tell, this position might actually be better for my pelvis and where Wolfie was in relation to everything.  I had always felt that my belly fell a little bit more "forward" than other pregnant ladies, probably creating a bad angle for pushing.  The baby was slowly making his way down, with every good push I could feel it.  I was doing it.  He was going to be here soon

"soon" felt like forever, though.  And I actually think it was.  It seemed like for about 3 hours it was "soon".  My eyes were watering with all the strain.  Every now and then I could feel a nice cold washcloth across my brow.  The nurse holding my leg asked at some point if I'd like her to hold a mirror so I could see what was going on.  During the pregnancy I thought for sure I'd want to see, but in that moment I couldn't bear another distraction.  Seeing it wouldn't help me push any harder.  I needed to reach deep into myself, and shut my eyes.  I needed to feel my way through, not see my way through.  The strain was incredible.  Determination had long been established here, and now I was reaching into areas of my strength and psyche for the nerve, the last straws of power that I could muster to push harder, hold it longer, keep it coming.  With every great push I thought to myself "surely, this is the hardest you can do" but seconds later I found another place deep within myself, my body, my mind to find a way to go longer or push harder or focus better.   Finally at 6:31 I pushed with all the might and strength I had left (which is really what I'd already been doing for about 4 hours), and my sweet Wolfie was born into the world.  I think in the few seconds after he left my body I said "I did it!"  Clarity washed over at me and I could see my husband and Que in a blur of sweat and tears.  They were both smiling and talking to me… I think they were remarking at how big Wolfie was, that he had a head of fuzzy hair, what a beautiful baby he was.  i think I could hear Ben telling me how proud he was of me. 

At the moment I was rejoicing.  There was no reason to do otherwise.  I could hear Amy at my feet saying "come on baby, come on baby".  I knew she was trying to get him to cry.  He wasn't breathing on his own yet.  I knew enough of births that babies sometimes need a few seconds.  But seconds went on.  In the blink of an eye, Amy cut the cord with lightning-fast precision and took him over to the little crib in the room.  I never saw him.  The two nurses who were also assisting in the birth surrounded the crib with Amy.  Again, I could hear Amy exclaim, "Come on baby.  Come on baby."  I could hear a lot of rustling noise, some suctioning, a pumping noise.  I could not see my baby.  I looked for Que and Ben's faces… for a while Ben and Que were both calm, reassuring.  I think someone said at some point that Wolfie would be handed to me in just a second. 

That second went on forever.  The next time I looked for my husbands face, I could see a twinge of fear… a blink of worry.