Samantha Susanne was born Monday, September 20, 2010 at 9:53am, weighing in at 6lbs, 10oz, and 19.25" long.
However, let's go back a few days, and let me tell you how the story progressed. I warn you now, this may be TMI for some, as it is Sami's birthing story.... you've been warned.
Early in the morning of the Thursday before, I started feeling very period-like cramps, and they progressed throughout the night. I called my midwife a couple of times, and after rest, massage, and a warm shower didn't help, we decided to go up to the hospital to see what was going on. We arrived at the Labor & Delivery triage around 8am Thursday morning and were brought to a curtained off corner relatively soon. They strapped me up to the fetal heartrate monitor, and the midwife on call performed my first internal. At the time, I was only 1cm dialated, 70% effaced, and the baby was very low, but no where near close to actual active labor, so they kept us there to monitor the baby a little bit longer, then sent us on our way, suggesting rest and fluids and just monitoring how I was feeling. I also had a pre-scheduled OB appointment later in the day, so she told me to keep the appointment, have them check me again, and see if there was any progress.
Thursday afternoon I went to my appointment to be checked, after having felt crappy cramps all day, but since there wasn't any bleeding or leaking fluids, no one seemed too worried. I don't know what the midwife did different than the other this time around, but this internal felt like she was reaching in up to her elbow - it hurt SO much more than the one prior in the day, but the verdict was similar to last time: 1cm dialated, 80% effaced at this point, and the baby was at 0 station. Again, rest and relaxation was recommended, and we went home.
Nothing really progressed into Friday, but I just felt so miserable and sore from the day before that I decided to take another day off from work to rest up with the intent to return if all was well on Monday. I cramped on and off on Friday, but nothing like Thursday's issues. And I lost my mucous plug... and it was gross. And I was mucousy, so much so that I opted to wear a pantyliner because I just felt so icky.
Saturday I was miserable. I just felt off, my stomach was upset, and I had very little to no energy to do anything.
Luckily, on Sunday whatever was getting me down on Saturday was gone, and I was full of energy and excitement to get things done and enjoy our first anniversary dinner. I ate the meal without any issue, we walked a couple of blocks, and anything that resembled a cramp was a thing of the past.
Late, late Sunday/early Monday I had gotten up to use the bathroom. As with every other night in the last 6 months of my pregnancy, it took me a while to fall back asleep once I was out of bed. Around 1:20am, in my half asleep haze, I felt a sudden gush and realized my water had broken. I wasn't feeling any contractions so I wasn't panicking too much. I woke Chris up and he worked on changing the bedsheet so that we saved the mattress while I ran into the bathroom to clean up and put on a pad. I called my midwife, and since I wasn't contracting, she didn't seem too concerned. She told me to try to get some sleep, but to plan on coming in between 7-8am and we would go from there. I tried lying down again, but there was so much going through my mind that I decided to get up and try to read. Maybe 15-20 minutes after I hung up with the midwife did the contractions start. Mild at first, they quickly grew to uncomfortable levels. Chris and I tried watching a DVR'd episode of Bridezillas to help get my mind off of everything, but it didn't help - I could barely walk, let alone talk through them, only 10 minutes into the show. By 2:40am we were on our way to the hospital.
The woman at the Labor & Delivery Registration office was a moron. I don't know how many times she had to ask me my name and date of birth, and how many times she said she couldn't find my pre-reg in the system. So here I am, trying to breathe through contractions in the corner of her office, and I'm having to lean over her shoulder and point out, plain as day on her computer screen, my entry. As she was working on admitting me, I noticed she had entered "Rule Out Labor" - it didn't occur to me until we were in the L&D waiting room that she had meant for me to go through triage again... so as I'm hunched over a chair the nurse and this woman are running back and forth trying to fix her mistake. Finally the nurse called my name, and rather than going through the triage doors, we went into the birthing center - it was like a glorious light at the end of a tunnel.
We got into the delivery room and I changed into a johnny, and I swear everything I had learned in our child birthing class went out the damn window... well, I guess I shouldn't say that. We had a "birth plan" and I remembered how to breathe, but I don't know if I would contribute my breathing to the class, or to yoga. Anyway, the midwife on-call finally came in after they had hooked me up to the fetal and contraction monitors - I was 3cm dilated, 100% effaced, and she was ready to come on out. By this time, the contractions were intense - the midwife had me bending over the bed, swaying my hips from side-to-side while she asked us how we wanted to proceed. I was in so much pain I could barely get the words out, so I'm glad Chris was there and we had discussed what I wanted to do, because he was able to let her know I wanted to go with the narcotics first, epidural once we hit 6-7cm. I believe the narcotic of the night was Stadol and they gave me a shot in the butt of something to help ease any nausea from it. It helped take the edge off, but it still wasn't enough - I needed the epidural, and I needed it NOW. Unfortunately, because of either my moving around to get through contractions, or because the baby just was anywhere but where they wanted her to be, the external heartrate monitor wasn't working well enough, and they weren't getting a good reading on the baby, which they needed before they could give me any anesthetic. Next thing I know, the midwife is performing another internal (4.5cm dilated at this point) and attaching an internal monitor to the baby's head.
I don't remember how long had passed - Chris says about an hour and another cm of dilation - before the anesthesiologist came in to administer the glorious epidural. Sadly, the anesthesiologist was so dry and so cold that instead of explaining to me what she was doing, she decided to question me about my back and ask me if I was ever diagnosed with scoliosis. Seriously. And then she told me she had to put my epi higher than normal because my lower back was so screwed up, and that I should really get that checked out. Sure thing, lady... I'll get right on it. Her putting the epidural higher was actually a blessing in disguise - I couldn't feel from my abdomen to the top of my thighs, but I could still feel/move my toes and legs, so the feeling of helplessness wasn't there to cause any anxiety. Anyway, the epidural was amazing - I honestly have no idea how anyone can give birth without it. The scary thing though was that my blood pressure had apparently dropped, but I was so drugged up that I barely noticed.
Hours passed. Chris and I both napped as we waited for things to move along. I think there was some concern for the baby's heartrate during that time, but nothing that didn't remedy itself. Chris called the immediate family around 6am to let them know we were at the hospital, and that we would give them a call once the baby was born to let them know when they could come up to visit.
A little while later, despite the epidural, I began to feel this intense pressure in my nether regions, which made me feel like I needed to use the bathroom more than anything else. I let the nurse know and she got the midwife to check me out. I was at 9cms - no pushing out the baby yet, which was a little discouraging, but I bided my time. The pressure began to get more unbearable, and pretty soon I wasn't able to breathe through it any longer, and they brought the midwife back in and she checked me -- it was go time.
The only time I threw up during the whole pregnancy was while I was going through transition. The nurse tried to tell me that it was a good sign and that I could start pushing soon... but I still hate throwing up.
So the position of choice was lying at a 45-degree angle with my legs up in the air being supported by my husband and a nursing student who was allowed to come in to assist with the birth. These legs were not going down, because I knew if they did I wouldn't be able to get them back up. It's true what they say about pushing - you can't really practice it, that it's more of an instinct than anything else. Again, I thank the stupid anesthesiologist for moving my epidural up, because being able to feel my contractions and pushing with them definitely helped.
Pushing was absolutely one of the most exhausting things I've ever exerted energy for in my life, and I did it for an hour. Somewhere along the line I was flailing my arms so much that I ripped out my IV, and Chris had to tell the nurses I was in a puddle of blood. There was an oxygen mask involved, and I remember having to take it off now and again because it was just so confining and restricting to my trying to breathe - oh irony. But despite the experience feeling like an eternity, after all my energy was exerted, 8.5 hours later Samantha was born with a full head of hair and the most beautiful cries I had ever heard. They put her on my chest so that I could see her, and the moment she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, I was in love.
Chris had watched the entire birth - I was so proud of him. He told me I pooped during pushing, but something tells me just about every woman does. It doesn't bother me, nor should it - there were so many other more important things going on!
He even cut the umbilical cord! GO Chris!
Speaking of the umbilical cord, apparently Samantha's had wrapped around her neck, and every time I pushed, it was like a bungee cord effect - she'd come out some, she'd go back in. Earlier they had asked me if I wanted a mirror to see the birth and I refused... I'm glad I did. If I had seen my progress, or lack there of, during my pushing, I think it would have just discouraged and frustrated me in my already exhausted state.
So while Samma was getting cleaned up by the nurses, earning an APGAR score of 8-9, I birthed the placenta, which was just weird yet relaxing at the time time. And I did tear during labor - I had myself a shallow 2nd-degree tear. I remember the midwife using lube and warm compresses while I was pushing, so I can only imagine what would have happened if I didnt have any help down there.
I also remember being asked if I wanted to see the placenta, and I did! It was weird looking, yet exactly how I had seen pictures of it. Because it was anterior, the "me" side was birthed first, where normally it would have been the "baby" side. "It's science."
Finally, when Samantha was all cleaned up and weighed, and I was all sewn up and cleaned out, they gave her back to me so that I could start trying to breastfeed. The girl was a natural and latched right on - it was amazing! I couldn't stop counting her fingers and toes as she lay in my arms.... it just seemed to surrealistic that she was finally here.
However, let's go back a few days, and let me tell you how the story progressed. I warn you now, this may be TMI for some, as it is Sami's birthing story.... you've been warned.
Early in the morning of the Thursday before, I started feeling very period-like cramps, and they progressed throughout the night. I called my midwife a couple of times, and after rest, massage, and a warm shower didn't help, we decided to go up to the hospital to see what was going on. We arrived at the Labor & Delivery triage around 8am Thursday morning and were brought to a curtained off corner relatively soon. They strapped me up to the fetal heartrate monitor, and the midwife on call performed my first internal. At the time, I was only 1cm dialated, 70% effaced, and the baby was very low, but no where near close to actual active labor, so they kept us there to monitor the baby a little bit longer, then sent us on our way, suggesting rest and fluids and just monitoring how I was feeling. I also had a pre-scheduled OB appointment later in the day, so she told me to keep the appointment, have them check me again, and see if there was any progress.
Thursday afternoon I went to my appointment to be checked, after having felt crappy cramps all day, but since there wasn't any bleeding or leaking fluids, no one seemed too worried. I don't know what the midwife did different than the other this time around, but this internal felt like she was reaching in up to her elbow - it hurt SO much more than the one prior in the day, but the verdict was similar to last time: 1cm dialated, 80% effaced at this point, and the baby was at 0 station. Again, rest and relaxation was recommended, and we went home.
Nothing really progressed into Friday, but I just felt so miserable and sore from the day before that I decided to take another day off from work to rest up with the intent to return if all was well on Monday. I cramped on and off on Friday, but nothing like Thursday's issues. And I lost my mucous plug... and it was gross. And I was mucousy, so much so that I opted to wear a pantyliner because I just felt so icky.
Saturday I was miserable. I just felt off, my stomach was upset, and I had very little to no energy to do anything.
Luckily, on Sunday whatever was getting me down on Saturday was gone, and I was full of energy and excitement to get things done and enjoy our first anniversary dinner. I ate the meal without any issue, we walked a couple of blocks, and anything that resembled a cramp was a thing of the past.
Late, late Sunday/early Monday I had gotten up to use the bathroom. As with every other night in the last 6 months of my pregnancy, it took me a while to fall back asleep once I was out of bed. Around 1:20am, in my half asleep haze, I felt a sudden gush and realized my water had broken. I wasn't feeling any contractions so I wasn't panicking too much. I woke Chris up and he worked on changing the bedsheet so that we saved the mattress while I ran into the bathroom to clean up and put on a pad. I called my midwife, and since I wasn't contracting, she didn't seem too concerned. She told me to try to get some sleep, but to plan on coming in between 7-8am and we would go from there. I tried lying down again, but there was so much going through my mind that I decided to get up and try to read. Maybe 15-20 minutes after I hung up with the midwife did the contractions start. Mild at first, they quickly grew to uncomfortable levels. Chris and I tried watching a DVR'd episode of Bridezillas to help get my mind off of everything, but it didn't help - I could barely walk, let alone talk through them, only 10 minutes into the show. By 2:40am we were on our way to the hospital.
The woman at the Labor & Delivery Registration office was a moron. I don't know how many times she had to ask me my name and date of birth, and how many times she said she couldn't find my pre-reg in the system. So here I am, trying to breathe through contractions in the corner of her office, and I'm having to lean over her shoulder and point out, plain as day on her computer screen, my entry. As she was working on admitting me, I noticed she had entered "Rule Out Labor" - it didn't occur to me until we were in the L&D waiting room that she had meant for me to go through triage again... so as I'm hunched over a chair the nurse and this woman are running back and forth trying to fix her mistake. Finally the nurse called my name, and rather than going through the triage doors, we went into the birthing center - it was like a glorious light at the end of a tunnel.
We got into the delivery room and I changed into a johnny, and I swear everything I had learned in our child birthing class went out the damn window... well, I guess I shouldn't say that. We had a "birth plan" and I remembered how to breathe, but I don't know if I would contribute my breathing to the class, or to yoga. Anyway, the midwife on-call finally came in after they had hooked me up to the fetal and contraction monitors - I was 3cm dilated, 100% effaced, and she was ready to come on out. By this time, the contractions were intense - the midwife had me bending over the bed, swaying my hips from side-to-side while she asked us how we wanted to proceed. I was in so much pain I could barely get the words out, so I'm glad Chris was there and we had discussed what I wanted to do, because he was able to let her know I wanted to go with the narcotics first, epidural once we hit 6-7cm. I believe the narcotic of the night was Stadol and they gave me a shot in the butt of something to help ease any nausea from it. It helped take the edge off, but it still wasn't enough - I needed the epidural, and I needed it NOW. Unfortunately, because of either my moving around to get through contractions, or because the baby just was anywhere but where they wanted her to be, the external heartrate monitor wasn't working well enough, and they weren't getting a good reading on the baby, which they needed before they could give me any anesthetic. Next thing I know, the midwife is performing another internal (4.5cm dilated at this point) and attaching an internal monitor to the baby's head.
I don't remember how long had passed - Chris says about an hour and another cm of dilation - before the anesthesiologist came in to administer the glorious epidural. Sadly, the anesthesiologist was so dry and so cold that instead of explaining to me what she was doing, she decided to question me about my back and ask me if I was ever diagnosed with scoliosis. Seriously. And then she told me she had to put my epi higher than normal because my lower back was so screwed up, and that I should really get that checked out. Sure thing, lady... I'll get right on it. Her putting the epidural higher was actually a blessing in disguise - I couldn't feel from my abdomen to the top of my thighs, but I could still feel/move my toes and legs, so the feeling of helplessness wasn't there to cause any anxiety. Anyway, the epidural was amazing - I honestly have no idea how anyone can give birth without it. The scary thing though was that my blood pressure had apparently dropped, but I was so drugged up that I barely noticed.
Hours passed. Chris and I both napped as we waited for things to move along. I think there was some concern for the baby's heartrate during that time, but nothing that didn't remedy itself. Chris called the immediate family around 6am to let them know we were at the hospital, and that we would give them a call once the baby was born to let them know when they could come up to visit.
A little while later, despite the epidural, I began to feel this intense pressure in my nether regions, which made me feel like I needed to use the bathroom more than anything else. I let the nurse know and she got the midwife to check me out. I was at 9cms - no pushing out the baby yet, which was a little discouraging, but I bided my time. The pressure began to get more unbearable, and pretty soon I wasn't able to breathe through it any longer, and they brought the midwife back in and she checked me -- it was go time.
The only time I threw up during the whole pregnancy was while I was going through transition. The nurse tried to tell me that it was a good sign and that I could start pushing soon... but I still hate throwing up.
So the position of choice was lying at a 45-degree angle with my legs up in the air being supported by my husband and a nursing student who was allowed to come in to assist with the birth. These legs were not going down, because I knew if they did I wouldn't be able to get them back up. It's true what they say about pushing - you can't really practice it, that it's more of an instinct than anything else. Again, I thank the stupid anesthesiologist for moving my epidural up, because being able to feel my contractions and pushing with them definitely helped.
Pushing was absolutely one of the most exhausting things I've ever exerted energy for in my life, and I did it for an hour. Somewhere along the line I was flailing my arms so much that I ripped out my IV, and Chris had to tell the nurses I was in a puddle of blood. There was an oxygen mask involved, and I remember having to take it off now and again because it was just so confining and restricting to my trying to breathe - oh irony. But despite the experience feeling like an eternity, after all my energy was exerted, 8.5 hours later Samantha was born with a full head of hair and the most beautiful cries I had ever heard. They put her on my chest so that I could see her, and the moment she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, I was in love.
Chris had watched the entire birth - I was so proud of him. He told me I pooped during pushing, but something tells me just about every woman does. It doesn't bother me, nor should it - there were so many other more important things going on!
He even cut the umbilical cord! GO Chris!
Speaking of the umbilical cord, apparently Samantha's had wrapped around her neck, and every time I pushed, it was like a bungee cord effect - she'd come out some, she'd go back in. Earlier they had asked me if I wanted a mirror to see the birth and I refused... I'm glad I did. If I had seen my progress, or lack there of, during my pushing, I think it would have just discouraged and frustrated me in my already exhausted state.
So while Samma was getting cleaned up by the nurses, earning an APGAR score of 8-9, I birthed the placenta, which was just weird yet relaxing at the time time. And I did tear during labor - I had myself a shallow 2nd-degree tear. I remember the midwife using lube and warm compresses while I was pushing, so I can only imagine what would have happened if I didnt have any help down there.
I also remember being asked if I wanted to see the placenta, and I did! It was weird looking, yet exactly how I had seen pictures of it. Because it was anterior, the "me" side was birthed first, where normally it would have been the "baby" side. "It's science."
Finally, when Samantha was all cleaned up and weighed, and I was all sewn up and cleaned out, they gave her back to me so that I could start trying to breastfeed. The girl was a natural and latched right on - it was amazing! I couldn't stop counting her fingers and toes as she lay in my arms.... it just seemed to surrealistic that she was finally here.
We eventually moved up to our postpartum room around 1pm, with family coming to visit at 2pm.
Despite everything, for a first timer, I was lucky my experience was what it was. With early labor happening for 4 days, active labor lasting for 8.5 hours, with only 1 hour of pushing and minimal damage... I don't think I could have asked for anything more, and the prize was well worth it. ;)
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