This is one of those things that women say: "Every pregnancy is different..." This comment can be a catch-all for whatever may ail you - or bring you joy and pleasure - as a pregnant woman. The Runner and I have been blessed with three gorgeous, perfect children - and yes, each one of my pregnancies was different. But really, not THAT different! I was still me carrying a baby each time. I still gained about 35 pounds with each child, and I always ended up with a giant, scary belly that contained either a 9+ or 10+ pound person.
What was profoundly different for each of my pregnancies was the way they ended. The way each child arrived was unique and deeply meaningful in very different ways.
Our oldest, the Talker (and sometimes the Reader), was born via c-section after a long labor. My cervix had "failed to progress" in its dilation. I had every intervention in the book: internal fetal monitoring, pitocin, epidural, spinal block...oh, what an overwhelming way to learn about maternal/fetal care in a top-notch teaching hospital.
He was BIG. Nine pounds, five ounces. He had a gigantic head. My recovery was challenging: my incision leaked, I developed mastitis, and I was almost readmitted to the hospital after a week at home due to a very high fever. I struggled emotionally - often feeling confused about why I was disappointed in the birth process. It was difficult, and I didn't really have anyone to relate to, since most of my friends were still single at the time, and pretty much no one I knew, aside from my new neighbor, had a baby or had a c-section. The Talker was - and still is! - a delight. Without him, I think I would've become truly confused about how to be a mother. He was a gentle, easy baby who allowed me the space to process what needed processing. And what a joy to have a son!
Our second baby, Miss Rosie, was my first VBAC. I cross-posted an article I wrote for the Chicago Moms Blog in 2010 about my experience preparing for her birth. It was an uphill battle - challenging for me and for the Runner, who wanted, undoubtedly, to protect me from any more emotional or physical pain. Miss Rosie was a long labor, too - and though I'd planned to birth naturally, the labor was irregular and long, and I was getting so tired. To regulate my coupling contractions, my midwife suggested a very low pitocin augmentation, which I agreed to. I also suggested an epidural at that point in order to conserve energy for what I anticipated would be a longer pushing phase. This series of decisions turned out to be perfect. I DID push for two and a half hours, but I requested that the epidural be turned down low enough that I could squat and move around as I needed to. The acute burning sensations of birth were numbed by the epidural, but I could still feel her descending and could direct my pushing effectively. Miss Rosie was 9 lbs, 12 oz. Even bigger than the Talker! We couldn't believe it. I had quite a bit of bleeding after her birth - I could have received a transfusion, but our midwife preferred that I take iron supplements for a month and rest, rest, rest. Still - with the complication of heavy bleeding, I felt tremendously more whole following Rosie's birth.
Last and certainly not least, the Bruiser's birth was notable. I went into labor a mere 20 hours after the conclusion of a terrible snow storm in Chicagoland, and though we could get out of the neighborhood, the roads were still quite slippery. My contractions went from 20 minutes apart to 5 minutes apart within and hour and a half, and we left for the hospital at my midwife's urging. I knew from past experiences to expect that my labor would slow significantly once we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I was right! As I stuffed the last of my granola bars down my throat (they won't let you eat any food in most hospitals during labor - which makes me really cranky!), I could feel my adrenaline surge. Adrenaline is not labor's friend. Once we checked in, my midwife checked my progress. I was at 8cm!!! Wow. That was really something, since labor had been quite manageable up through that point. But...then things slowed down. About five different people swarmed the room as I was getting settled in, taking my blood, putting a fetal monitor on my belly (which would need readjusting every 4-7 minutes because it would not stay put), bringing in the baby warmer and all the supplies they would need once the baby arrived. It was overwhelming, and I started to feel frazzled and distracted from the work that I needed to do. As a people pleaser, I felt that I needed to be smiley and chatty with every nurse or tech that came through the room. This is also bad for labor. The Runner is also a people pleaser, so the two of us were chatting it up with the staff, and my labor took a hike.
One other piece to note: I have performance anxiety when it comes to labor. With each baby, checking in at the hospital virtually halted my labors. I seem to be one of these people who would prefer to give birth like your house cat: get comfortable in a dark place where I can do what I need to do without being bothered, and all moves along effectively. In a hospital setting, I tend to feel watched and judged - even if I am in the room with people I trust, like the Runner and my midwives! The constant monitoring makes me anxious and frazzled, and the implicit lack of trust in my body to do what it knows how to do makes me angry. That is a BAD cocktail of emotions that presents serious roadblocks to the "love hormone," oxytocin, which is integral for beginning and maintaining labor.
After breaking my bag of waters and waiting for a long while, the OB on call came in to check on how we were all doing. My midwife reported that I was dialated to 9 on one side of my cervix, but I had a "lip" that made the other side of my cervix feel more like 6 or 7 cm. Knowing of this cervical lip scared me - that was one of the reasons I had a c-section with the Talker. I was instantly afraid of the same outcome, but my midwife assured me that we were not anywhere near discussing a c-section. After a sigh of relief, the OB and midwife suggested that I try to push away the lip. "You can DO that?!" I asked. This might sound completely nuts, but being able to try that made me feel incredibly empowered - like I was able to work with my body to muscle through what some OBs would label as a major setback in labor.
So we pushed. I pushed from the inside, and my gentle and kind midwife pushed, too. I will spare you, dear Reader, the gory details, but let's just say that while I pushed, she used her hands to push my cervix back over the baby's head. Ouch, right?! You bet. But, all things considered, it wasn't that miserable. I pushed, she pushed, and within 5 or 6 contractions the lip was gone. Then it was time to push the Bruiser out, which was remarkably different from my experience pushing with Miss Rosie.
Clearly I felt a lot more without the epidural. The sensations were overwhelming at first - burning and stretching sorts of pain, mostly - and it was difficult to focus on the task of pushing. Honestly, I began this phase terrified of the process of pushing. The other sensations were intense and distracting. I know I whined to everyone in the room that I couldn't do it - that I didn't want to. But really, there was no other alternative. Once I steeled myself and got down to business, the pain stopped hijacking my attention. I was able to focus on moving the baby down and out.
And out he came. All 10 pounds, 3 ounces, and 22 inches of him. Remarkably, I only tore a tiny bit - 5 or 6 stitches worth. My midwife laid him on my chest immediately, completely perfect and new. And then the afterglow of birth began. For about 90 minutes the Runner and I stared at our newest child, marveling over his beauty and sharing the joy of parenthood together.
The recovery from the Bruiser's birth has been the easiest of the three. The two main differences from the other births are: 1. I skipped the epidural (and any other pain meds) and 2. As soon as I got home, I put on a postpartum compression garment (like a girdle!) that helped me regain proper posture more quickly. I'll be writing more on the benefits of compression later this week.
I am blessed to have carried three beautiful babies to term (and then some!), and I am proud to have brought them forth into this world in three very different, very special ways. The journey of childbirth has been, for me, a process of profound growth and empowerment. I hope all mothers can identify with birth as a special expression of womanhood.
