Jun 10

Jun 10 A Birth Story: Part 1

You’ll find no happy “last photo before baby!” here. No excitement throwing together our bag last minute (though I’ll do a post on what we brought and what we should have brought). But if you want to read the truth, the whole truth, and a lot of anxiety-induced hysteria, read on. Just to note, I wrote this pretty soon after delivery and was still in a bit of a dark place. I promise it seems worth it now. Mostly.

Also, it’s long. What else did you expect?

Another note: Both prenatal and postpartum depression and anxiety are no joke. Looking back 7 weeks postpartum, I’m grateful I had the pieces in place to move as quickly as I did to getting back on my anxiety medication—I had a doctor who represcribed it after a video check in, I got the meds filled quickly, I had a therapist who talked me through restarting, and most of all I had a partner looking out for me who knew when to be gentle and when to push me. Even with all that, the first few weeks are a bit of a dark, fuzzy blur. If I do this again, I would plan to restart my medication at least a month before my due date, if not sooner. I hope reading all of this helps someone out there struggling, or better yet, helps someone avoid any struggle they may have coming up.

Part 1: The Before

There was always debate about my due date, whether it was 4/19 or 4/20. As it turned out, neither was correct, and it didn’t matter. Both dates came and went, and Wednesday, April 21st I went in to my doctor for my 40 week appointment. She wore me like a hand puppet for the second time (aka did a membrane sweep) and it was actually the first OB appointment Eric was able to attend. My doctor mentioned if I were still pregnant on Saturday she’d induce then, though I could wait until Monday or Tuesday if I really wanted to. I began agonizing about that decision, of course.

We hoped and waited for something to get started that night, but no dice. I had reported decreased movement around 37 weeks, but who knows how much of that was in my head. I was really frantic about movements and while everything was always normal I panicked every time I didn’t feel him for a few hours, so I was getting weekly NSTs (non stress tests), and that week I had had one Monday and was due for another the next day, Thursday. That night I didn’t feel him move much during the day, and by that evening I had a full breakdown. Eric heard me sobbing in the shower and came up and just held me. I obviously was not coping well with the stress of having to make the decision of induction, the nervous anticipation of labor, and the responsibility of monitoring for movement. All this to say, if you’re not happily anticipating the arrival of your baby but rather falling apart at the end, it’s ok. I’ve been there too.

I made it through the night (he started moving shortly after the shower of course), and we had our NST the next day. All was well. I talked with my doulas (more on them later, but 10,000% recommend), and with Eric, and we decided on Saturday for the induction, mostly for my mental health. Once the decision was made, I felt myself relax a little bit. Less than 48 hours for something to go wrong that I could mess up before it was in the hands of the professionals. I finished work that day as normal, letting everyone know that tomorrow would indeed be my official last day.

Getting the party started—quickly

Thursday night, April 22nd, I began having the same 10 minute apart, mild contractions I had had every evening for the past few days, and didn’t think much of it. We were watching tv, had dinner, and were about to head up to bed at 10:30. I had 2 contractions that were a bit more intense than others, and said to Eric something along the lines of “if this is what they’re going to be like, 10 minutes apart for a few hours, I can maybe sleep even if this is really it.” He said something like, ok it’s not labor though. A third intense contraction started. Then at 10:45 I heard a distinct POP and all of a sudden I felt my water start gushing. I looked at Eric and said “oh actually my water just broke could you grab me a wee wee pad?”

He froze and stared at me and then said “are you serious?” I was actually laughing, and he didn’t believe me. I was sopping it all up with the house dress I was wearing and told him “yeah, I need some wee wee pads stat!” He ran and grabbed some, and we got them under me before the couch got soaked, and I just sat there letting it run for a few minutes. Penny, who had been asleep next to me on the couch, was annoyed we woke her up, and went back to sleep without any reaction. I called my doulas and let them know, laughing still. They told me to try to rest, get some sleep before the contractions got intense, and then we’d probably end up heading to the hospital some time tomorrow. We let my sister know, and that’s when things took a turn.

The contractions up until that point had been about 30 seconds to a minute long but not super intense, and about 7-10 minutes apart. After my water broke, they went 0 to 60 almost immediately. They became extremely intense, 60-90 seconds long, and only 2-3 minutes apart. That meant only a 30-60 second break in between. I went upstairs to try to lay down, but couldn’t stay on the bed for more than 2 minutes at a time. I was dry heaving and ended up in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, trying to breathe through. I’m not sure how long I stood there, as the dogs ran to their crates and whined at me for their bedtime treats. Eric was downstairs frantically cleaning, organizing, etc. By 12 pm they were hard, fast, and I couldn’t talk through the contractions at all. My doula called me because my texts were probably gibberish and said if we wanted to head to the hospital she could either meet us at home or meet us there. I didn’t think I’d survive until she got to us and then have to go to the hospital, so I told her we’d meet her there and we got ready to leave. We called my sister to get in her uber to our place to stay with the dogs and we left.