Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Birth of a Bug

I thought I was ready. I spent ten and a half months reading every pregnancy and birth book I could get my hands on. While I worked I listened to hour upon hour of birthing podcast. I made my plan. I should have known better.
We live two hours from my backup hospital. I was never nervous, I honestly didn't think I would need it. Women have been doing this since the beginning of the beginning. And I hate hospitals. My dad spent half his life in one. Not for me, and I was right about that.
I had two wonderful midwives and my tiny home was all set. The only problems we could see were 1) bug had her hands on top of her stubborn little head and 2) my midwives were leaving for Africa two weeks after my due date. I am always early to everything so my daughter will not be late I told myself and my team. Ha.
My due date comes and go. Every little twinge I think this is it, here we go. And nothing. Finally ten days late on Wednesday February 9 I go to my first ever acupuncture appointment praying for help. My midwives are packing their bags to fly out of the freakin country in six days not to mention my birthday is in five. I have horrible birthdays. That should have been a clue.
After my apt. I go for a fast waddle. I make 3 miles in 50 minutes with a contraction here and there. I have been 75 % effaced and 1cm dilated for a month. I have eaten pineapples I even rocked on my nieces trampoline, hell I took captor oil three times and tried every herbal concoction made to make women go into labor. Nothing.
I go to bed and wake up Thursday February 10th at 9 am to a soaked bed. Yippy! We call the midwives they ask all kinds of questions. No I am not contracting. Yes I feel fine. No I would like some time alone. Hubby and I lay in bed making out and trying nipple stimuli which produces a couple weak contractions but overall not much is happening. Friday February 11th my midwives come up mostly to calm my family down. I will not let anyone see me. I hate being in pain, I don't handle it well. Frankly I get real real mean. So I kept everyone away until then. Midwives show up give me the human hand puppet routine and still nothing. Obviously something is emotionally wrong and my body is stalling they tell me. So I am forced to talk about every problem I have ever had. Ever. And boy howdy my life is not all sunshine and roses. But I think I have handled it pretty darn well thank you very much. Still nothing. I beg for one more night at home before they make me go to the birthing center. My water has been broken for 36 hrs now. But as long as bugs heart rate is good and my temp stays normal there is no sign of infection I can sleep one more night in my bed.
Saturday February 12th the drive to the birthing center flys by. The sun is shining, the trees and flowers are blooming I forget we are driving to the most hated of places. Until we get there. Because we waited so long and I am not progressing at all I am forced onto pitocin through an I.v. I am then forced to be strapped to not one but two tight ass monitors on my now contracting belly. Nurses and doctors and interns come and go every ten minutes. They want blood and urine samples. I get two or three new puppet masters. My whoha has never been so active.(thank god) the contractions are getting stronger and stronger but they are not doing anything. My bug is happy right where she is. I start to get really fuzzy at this point. It's all down hill from here anyway.
They now insert a monitor inside me to measure the strength of contractions. I ask if there is another machine they would like to hook me up to why not. I beg to be taken off the monitors. I beg to take a bath. We find out my tub leaks. The whole reason I picked the room. My contractions are now 2 minutes long and 2 minutes apart. I'm not sure of the time after midnight I know that much. There is now a woman in the room next to me and we start contracting and moaning these animalistic deep moans together. Somehow knowing she is there helps. But I am loosing it. I won't let the lights on. I try walking, squating, rolling on the birth ball. Nothing is helping. I hear my dead fathers voice telling me to cowgirl up and hang in there. That helps for a couple of minutes that feels like days. Then I give up. I go silent and limp. My husband is holding my hand crying. Praying I will be ok. Asking why I'm quiet. I don't have it in me I need a rest. I force myself to count how many deep breaths to get through a contraction. Five. I can do five. I focus on that for half an hour. Then its to much. Did I mention I am puking the whole time. I allergic to a lot of meds we find out. Like clock work every ten minutes or so I thrown up for hours. Until there is nothing in me to throw up and I just weakly dry heave while my huge belly contracts.
Where was I, so I break down. At this point only hubby and 1 midwife is in my room and I beg for something anything to get alittle help. I can't do it this way any longer. I am sorry I am a weaker person then I thought please help. They have been waiting for this. Just try. Little longer they tell me. I no longer see them as people who love me, who are there to help. They, like my body, and the doctors, and nurses are against me. I AM ALONE. Finally 30 minutes later somewhere around 4 am Sunday February 13th I get a shot of morphine. It takes the edge off for 20 minutes tops. I beg again and again they bring more and more. At 9 am I am reevaluated still 2cm and my temp is up bugs heart rate is slightly up. I get an ultra sound that is inconclusive. My baby could be 7 lbs or 10. The cord could be hung up or not. I ask for an epidural and to keep trying. They bring in a surgeon to try to talk me into a csection. I beg for more time. I'm not ready for that yet. They give me an epidural and at first I am in bliss. Until I realize 1) I'm allergic to this too 2) I am paralyzed from my chest down. My father was a parapalegic. For half my life I helped him move, bath, live. And now I was too. I freak out. But exhaustion takes over and I doze. When they wake me up at noon every family and friend I have is in the waiting room. Watching me like a broken clock. I sleep some more. Round 1 pm my epidural wears off. This isn't supposed to happen. They give me more. But I can still feel the contractions. 6pm I am checked again and only 4 cm. They have no choice. I am going to surgery. I am to tired to cry much but I am terrified. The one nurse I don't get along with is the only one that will be with my baby. I am terrified. I ask about letting her cord pulse and keeping the placenta. They don't answer. Next thing I know they are straping me down to the operating table and I am alone. I feel them swabing my stomach and tell them so. I should be numb they say. I'm not. They give me more meds. I'm starting to shake uncontrollably. The whole table is moving from my shaking. They put up the cloth across my chest, I am extremely closterphobic. The cloth drapes down and starts to cover my face and I freak out. I start to vomit. Ever tried to vomit while your body is numb and your strapped down flat. I don't recommend it.
Finally they let my hubby in and I start to beg for death. I cannot do this. I can feel me dying. Lover that he is he slaps me across the face and I calm down a tiny bit. Actually not at all I just shut up. Then I hear her screams. Hubby says it takes four people to rip my daughter from my body. She holds her head up and wails her unhappiness to the world. Go with her I say. And hubby does. That is the last thing I remember. I black out. I go into cardiac arrest. I start to bleed out. Three hours later I come to. I am lying in a recovery room with a strange nurse closely monitoring my vitals. I ask about the baby. She is fine her grandmother is holding her. You can see her in an hour. WHAT THE FUCK! I had made hubby promise he would be the only person to hold her until I could. An hour I will kill someone hurry up! They roll me in the room in less then thirty minutes. Hubby clears out the inlaws when he sees my looks of death. Give me MY BABY NOW! They lay her on my bear chest. I look at her and smell her and something inside me comes alive. she is worth every minute. I am whole.


  1. Your birth story is my nightmare. I worried about exactly this happening to me right down to the grandmother holding the baby before me part. I don't know how you made it through. You must be such an incredible strong woman. I am so happy that both you and your baby survived this ordeal and that you are now healthy and together. Thank you for reading my birth story, and thank you for sharing yours

  2. Wow, I had no clue. All I was told told was you had a lot of issues.. I've had issues with my last two but no where near this. I was in tears by the end of your story. I am so sorry it was so rough.. But I'm glad you made it through.. your definatly one tough cookie my cousin is one lucky guy!