Life's Labor Pains

Every day something new happens.  Whether apparently good or bad, it happens.  Life doesn't stop around us just because we are tired.  It doesn't stop just because we have been going through days or weeks of tumultuous roller coaster rides.  Sometimes one storm is followed by another, then another, and another, with little or no time to catch a breath.

When I was pregnant with my oldest, I eagerly awaited the birth of my long-awaited daughter.  Her name had been picked out since the time I was in grade school, and my husband was so darling to oblige me.  I sang to the little one inside me incessantly and was anxious to meet my bundle of joy.

For as long as I can remember, I had wanted to have a home delivery with a midwife.  My husband, however, being the caring yet logical husband, wanted a hospital birth.  We compromised and decided to have a delivery with a midwife who worked under the supervision of an OB/GYN.  Content with our decision, we relaxed, enjoyed the pregnancy, and just waited for the appointed time.

A week before she was due, I began having some tiny contractions.  They were the kind that you know are "not going anywhere" because they were just uncomfortable.  But they brought me hope because it was proof she would be coming soon.  Delivery due date came and went, with no sight of my baby, to much avail.  Then, another week passed.  Still, nothing happened.

Finally, because I had gestational diabetes, my doctor's office gave me the words that brought conflict to my soul:  "it's time to induce."  They were concerned that she was going to have too many troubles by being so overdue.  They gave me all the reassurances and scheduled a time to come in:  the evening of June 24.  The plan was to give me something to help prepare my body to go into labor that night and then give me the pitocin the following morning.  As much as I dismayed at the thought of enforcing labor, I also longed to see and hold my precious one.

Packed with bags that were filled with way too many things we thought we needed, which I never saw until I returned home, we drove to the hospital, hoping I'd go into labor on my own.  Not long after I was admitted into a room and settled in, the maternity ward grew busy.  Understandably, I was lowest priority at the time.  Around 10:00 that night, one of the hospital workers came in and gave me the Cervadil to soften things up a little.  After that, it was just a waiting game.  Too excited to sleep, we settled down and watched Patton on the television.

Now, I will preface the rest of my story with the statement that this delivery was unlike any of my later deliveries, and there were extenuating circumstances that made it much more difficult than normal.  I just happened to be one of those "once in a lifetime cases" for the hospital, far from typical.  Thankfully, at the time, I was completely oblivious to that fact.  It was several weeks later that we fully realized the crux of the matter.

By 1:00 am, the contractions were coming so consistently and quickly that they decided to remove the medication, even though it was supposed to remain until 7:00 when they would give me the Pitocin.  Sadly, though, my body remained stoic, unchanged.  The staff thought, as well as I did, that the contractions would continue more slowly but progressively through the night.  We thought incorrectly.  They continued all night, but went nowhere, so to speak.

At 7:00 am, someone came in and gave me something to let me rest for 30 minutes, which I desperately needed.  At 7:30, they gave me pitocin through an IV.  That was when the fun began.  The contractions became more pronounced, but my body still responded in the intended way, so the staff increased the medication, increased it some more a couple hours later, and still more later. 

By 11:00 am, one of the nurses came in to check my blood pressure, along with all the other information she had to update regularly, but there was one small problem.  Every time a contraction went down low enough for her to put the cuff on, the next one began before she could get a reading.  For over an hour, she attempted to take my blood pressure, but she couldn't take it while I was in a contraction.  So what was the big deal?  I had a 7 hour time period in which there was no lack of contraction.  The monitors all read that one wave had just finished its peak and hit a downward point when the next had already begun.  There was literally no rest between them.

I was exhausted.  My water finally broke around 5 that evening, and I was hopeful.  Up until this point, I still had not dilated past 2, which was where I was when I had come into the hospital 22 hours earlier.  It had been difficult, but I silently stared at the wall, at the clock, at a flower, wherever my eyes happened to be at the moment of the peak of a contraction, and just breathed.  My mother and my mother-in-law were in the room with me at the time, relieving my husband for a little while. 

About 6:00, just a few minutes after my husband returned and our mothers were taking a walk, I felt it.  I suddenly literally felt like my insides were being torn out.  Focusing was impossible, and the panic set in.  I couldn't focus, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.  My midwife was with us at the time.  She checked me and then gave me the news that up to this point I had not ever even considered.  Well aware of my initial desires to have a completely natural childbirth with no medication, she now asked us to reconsider.  I could not have an epidural; I was still just a 2.  But I needed something to help me to relax, so she suggested something that was not a narcotic, but would help take the edge off a bit.  Desperately fighting the urge to scream in pain, I stared at Richard's concerned face, and knew it was time.  Relieved even, I conceded. 

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.  The medication was added at 6:15.  It did its job.  I was still very much aware of what was going on.  I could still feel the pain, but it was bearable.  I could breathe.  I could focus.  I could relax.
 
I have to laugh looking back, because I had seen all the television shows where the doctor says, "ok, it's time to push now."  I didn't need anyone to tell me.  About an hour later, when I was talking with my sister-in-law, my body took over.  I couldn't have resisted pushing if my life depended on it!  The pitocin stopped coursing through my veins at this point. 

Having chosen a water birth, I got into the tub between contractions.  Relief flooded over me and every ounce of pain was gone.  I felt surrounded by warmth and focused on the task at hand.  I felt no pain while pushing, just the pressure.  I was euphoric.  My baby was coming!  Nyssa was placed into my arms at 8:49 on Friday, June 25, 2004.  I was ready to waltz down the hall with her.  I was so excited I felt I could run a marathon.  I told the midwife I was surprised at how well I felt and even said so aloud.  She smiled calmly, but reservedly, still focused on the job at hand.

The staff took my daughter, all 6 lbs. 5 ounces of her, and cleaned her off while I was helped out of the tub and onto a bed.  I wanted to hold her, but I was told to lie still.  I watched as the darling love of my life held our little miracle and sang to her.  Still feeling no pain, I didn't understand why I wasn't allowed to hold her. 

The midwife and doctor talked quietly in the hall for a few minutes, a conversation which my mother observed and related to me a couple weeks later.  They came back into the room and told me I needed some stitches.  So they gave me a local anesthetic and set to work.  Two hours later, they took me to my room with explicit instructions to not leave my bed for any reason until they gave me permission.  If I needed to get up for any reason at all, I was to call a nurse.  Not even my husband was allowed to help me the first day.

Nyssa was brought to us shortly after midnight and I finally got to hold her again.  She had failed the hearing test in her left ear so they had to run it several times due to fluid.  She roomed in with me, but I wasn't allowed to get her.  My husband or a staff member had to hand her to me and put her back in her little bed.  I wasn't even allowed to change her diaper until the second day.

I was on complete bed rest for 3 weeks and not allowed to pick up my daughter during that period.  I had to have someone hand her to me.  I was on limited bed rest for another month after that.  It wasn't until 9 weeks after she was born that I was completely out of danger.  My doctor explained to me in full what had happened that evening.  Upon hearing what he had to say, I realized that not one of the decisions my husband and I had made throughout the entire pregnancy had been an accident, nor had any of the incidents surrounding it.

My husband wanted me to have the baby in the hospital.  Instead of choosing Northside Hospital, the one most well known for its labor and delivery wing in the area, we chose one that is 5 minutes away from us because it was the one that allowed water births.  We chose a practice that was literally across the street from the hospital.  We chose the doctor who was not only the head OB/GYN at the hospital, but also the best surgical OB in the tri-state area.  Not only the midwife, but the doctor was at the hospital when I delivered Nyssa.  If any one of these decisions had been made differently, I may not have been here today. 

A year and 6 days later, at the same hospital, we welcomed Nathaniel into our family.  The only drama brought by him at the time was the fact that he was born 2 hours and 22 minutes after I went into labor with him.  He even arrived before the planned deliverer got to the hospital.

Life is full of surprises.  Sometimes life happens as we plan it, and sometimes things just work out differently.  Sometimes we have the opportunity to take our time and make decisions.  Sometimes we have to choose on the spur of the moment to do something we never thought we would do.  Sometimes the choice is made for us.  Sometimes life is full of one wave of pain after another, with no relief in sight.  But if we hold on fast and fix our eyes on the light at the end, we will endure. 

Sometimes we need the support of others to make it through.  It's all a matter of being surrounded with the right people at the right time, for the right purpose.  And just when we get to the point where we think we're going to break, something happens.  Someone reaches out a hand, offers a soothing word, offers what we need to help us over that last birthing pain.  Because if we endure, then after all the pain, after all the labor, after we have been drained to our extent, something precious appears to change us forever, and we know it has been worth it all.