Early Saturday morning around 1 am, after going to bed just past midnight I woke up with the most interesting backache. We had friends over for food and games that night, and Adam insisted that I go to bed right away when they left. I asked him why and he stated that I would be going into labor tomorrow, as if this was something that everyone knew. I just looked at him the way a woman looks at a naïve child who is too old to be dreaming of Santa, and said that that was wishful thinking but there weren’t any signs of imminent labor; sorry Charlie. But then, a half an hour later there was this pain, and it wasn’t the kind of back pain relieved by stretching or changing positions, instead it wrapped around my lower back with the kind of pressure that made me think a giant was trying to clamp me to a work bench with a steel vice. Then I thought, perhaps labor is around the corner. At 2:30 I was having mild and irregular cramping, which I had been experiencing for weeks at this point. Three hours later, after having some other signs, which I won’t go into…and not even having to time a contraction, I hopped into bed with a smile. Adam turned to me and asked if everything was fine, I think I said something like, “everything is great. Oh, and I’m in early labor.” I tried to sleep a little more but the cramps were getting stronger. So at 7:30 we took a shower and by 9:30 I was in the rocking chair trying to relax and rest per advice from my doula Anna. By late afternoon, I was using breathing techniques and had to get into the shower to manage some light pain again, then tried to go to bed to sleep between contractions.
I had been under the impression that early labor wasn’t painful. I kept telling myself this shouldn’t hurt so bad. My contractions were still far apart and irregular, and despite that labor is normally signaled by contractions that are patterned, get longer, stronger and closer together mine were on their own timeline, sometimes coming 2-3 times in a row before getting a break. Adam and I had envisioned early labor as a time for walking and baking a birthday cake, a time for distracting activities and based on this vision, he kept attempting to motivate me to get up and distract myself from the pain. I told him that I must have slept through those light contractions because I couldn’t be distracted at this point. My doula arrived in the early evening and she and Adam took turns massaging my feet, pushing fluids and pieces of power bars at me. Contractions were moving from 10min -7min apart. Then we tried a side lying position to speed things up a bit. The contractions were so painful that I wanted to cry. Anna moved me to the tub after that and told me I was still in early labor. It was 10:30 and I wined to her, “I thought early labor wasn’t supposed to hurt.” She honestly responded, “there are lucky women and then the unlucky ones, and you are one of the unlucky ones.” She suggested that my baby’s head was tilted in a weird position causing the horrible back pain I was experiencing and that my contractions were consistent with a back labor that was trying to reposition the baby. My sacrum was buldging where the baby’s head was descending. The pain was intense. Anna had lit candles in the bathroom and she and Adam took turns pouring warm water over my belly and helping me cope through the contractions. I was in there for hours. Then I had a contraction that radiated through my entire back and abdomen and sent me into deep whaling that I’m sure woke the neighbors, and later to find out even the neighbors in the triplex next door to us. I cried for the first time, I told them I couldn’t make it, that I wasn’t strong enough, that it was horrible. My jaw trembled but somehow I made it through the next few contractions, which came 3times in a row with a 5 minute break between each triple set. Anna whispered in my ear that I wouldn’t be able to relax through my contractions anymore, only between them. This made me feel better. I thought that my inability to relax was a sing of weakness, like I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was, and that labor shouldn’t hurt this bad. Hearing her say this was a queue to stop fighting the pain and start succumbing to it. That’s when I made my transition into some sort of primal state. Rowe, my mother-in-law who was there throughout, said I was like a bear of sorts.
Soon, I realized that the pressure in my back had descended downward and that I had an urge to push the baby out. The pain was blinding, all I could do was wale, moan and at the peak of each contraction expel guttural yells and wolf howls that came from tonal depths I was unaware that had ever existed inside of me. It felt good to finally let these noises out, and in sense loose a little bit of control. I rocked my hips and swayed, I grabbed whoever was near me and made them dance, squeezed their hands white and whispered to myself comforting mantras. When I told Anna the pain was at a 7 we left for the hospital. That was 2am – Oct 25th. We assumed I was far along, nearing transition maybe even birth. I breathed in and out at the end of painful contractions, “almost over, almost over.”
Adam drove all the way to Swedish with the parking break on. Rowe sat in the back seat helping me through my contractions, Anna followed in her car and my mom was on her way. The walk from the parking lot to labor & delivery was an epic journey. Every minute or two was marked by another contraction, each one competing with the pain of the last, each one producing a little bit more of an urge to bear down. At one point, maybe in the elevator, I can’t remember, I made an announcement that I would like to push the baby out. Now. We made it to triage, where I had to lay down – which made the contractions more intense and was examined – only 3cm. Only 3cm but our baby was very low. That meant 7 more centimeters to go until pushing was even a possibility. I can’t really explain what it feels like to have to breath through contractions when you have the urge to bear down. It felt unnatural and impossible. I was about to give up and once again was unable to cope through a very strong contraction where I screamed, cried and announced that this had to stop. I looked at Adam and asked him not to make me do this, to make the pain stop. I knew that in ‘normal’ births most people dilate around one centimeter an hour, plus 2-3 hours of pushing once a woman reaches 10cm. I was able to do the math between contractions and asked myself if I could live through 7 more hours of labor. I decided I couldn’t but for some reason, I knew they had to be wrong. I kept asking, “are you sure?” In my head I legitimized bearing down by thinking that maybe some women did not need to reach 10cm to deliver their baby. I told myself whatever I needed to hear. We went into the labor and delivery suite. I had been at the hospital now for almost an hour. My mother sat watching me, not knowing what to do, seeing me in pain and like an animal must have been shocking for her. After a few contractions in the rocking chair, I told everyone that I was going to push the baby out. Anna laughed a little, and asked that I be checked again. My doctor who was thankfully on shift did the honors – 5 cm. I muttered a “yes, yes, thank you, thank you” and new that I would be able to do this. By 4am I was at 7 cm. I was dilating twice as fast as expected. They drained the Jacuzzi tub, the nurse told me “we don’t do water births here.” And when I had to use the bathroom, they rushed me off the toilette, as that wouldn’t be the most elegant way to enter the world. As I dilated further my contractions became closer together and stacked one on top of the other. The urge to push grew so strong that I uncontrollably would squat or raise my legs. When asked to stop pushing and to breath through it I would pound against the wall or bed with my fist along with each moan and breath. The baby’s heart wasn’t responding the way they like, it was as if the baby was sleeping. Something worried me and I knew that this child had to be born soon.
An overwhelming pain swept over my entire body, I shook the bed, howled and wailed and my head arched back. They check me again - 9cm. And hour later I told them I had to push, “I’m pushing” I said, “I’m sorry, I can’t stop.” My body, without my control, threw my legs up and bared down. Anna whispered in my ear, not to feel bad if I couldn’t help it, it was okay to push now. The doctor checked me – Anna was right - 10cm. It was bout 6:30 in the morning. I flipped on my back, Adam and Anna supported my legs, my mother held an oxygen mask for me and helped me remove my gown. I was too hot. Normally during pushing, contractions slow down giving the baby time to recuperate between each stressful moment. Mine, however, sped up and were still coming in multiples, which meant I was on track to push my baby out fast. This made the doctor a little nervous and she was still telling me not to push, or to at least wait for the peak of my contractions; this was like trying to shackle nature. I tried, but my body was acting without consent. My doctor decided that a she needed to act fast and used the vacuum extractor to get my baby out fast. The first attempt failed, the doctor said she was only giving me one more push and that was it. We assume she was insinuating a cesarean delivery and Anna whispered in my ear, "you need to push harder that you think possible. When you think you’ve pushed your hardest keep going.” I’ve never done anything so difficult as to push my baby out of my body, who emerged like a slippery grey seal. I looked down as he was exiting his internal nest and entering the bright and noisy environment of the outer world. He let out the sweetest cries. A flood of fluid and meconium followed him and he was wisked over the warming table for suctioning. Adam looked at me with his excited eyes, and told me we had a baby boy. “Finneas” I said. He held my gaze for a moment. I melted. I wanted to hold him so much it made me want to cry, but I knew he needed a little extra care. I focused on him with such intensity that I barely noticed birthing my placenta and the stitches that followed. Although, I made Adam and my mother laugh when I dropped the F word as she stitched my wounds – it was the first swear word I had uttered over the entire process. Finally, Finneas was handed to me swaddled and immediately ready to eat. Our families left us alone, as a family, for an hour or so, so we could devour all the new sensations. Softer than a peach. Sweet like fresh nasturtium nectar, and lavender honey. Eyes like a sea storm. Seashell ears. Hair of a baby raven and immediately loved.
We have spent the past five days on an entirely different scale of time. Showers are a novelty as are meals and sleep. But I’ve found that all I want to do is hold, kiss and shower Finneas with affection. His little smiles and yoda faces launch in me the most pleasant adrenaline. Right now I’m staring at him, in his little phototherapy bed as he sleeps. He has jaundice and needs to spend a couple days lying mostly on, what looks like a tanning bed for babies. The vacuum delivery left him with a hemotoma on his head and subsequent jaundice. Besides that, he is one healthy and very happy baby. I am thrilled that I was able to birth him without using any medications. Even though the process hurt beyond any concept of pain one could be familiar with outside of labor – there is only one way to know the feeling and that is to experience it, and it is beyond pain, I would do it again just the same. It is an entire body experience and marathon of mental strength right down to each cell. Yet, as soon as it was over the memory of that intense and raw feeling was no longer there. Finneas simply supplanted all negative feelings about labor with his beautiful presence. I have to say that without Adam and my doula I might have faltered on several occasions over that 26 hour period. People have asked if I wanted that epidural at all, and yes, there were a few times where I contemplated it. I knew that I would regret it if I didn’t follow through though, and I was deeply afraid of failing myself- oh and that rather large needle they stick in your spine. I loved my labor and birth. It was an amazing experiment of enduring.
