The Good, The Bad, and the Unbearably Cute

Right now I am at last in bed at home with my baby son asleep on my lap. It is our first night together and I expect it to be a long "getting to know you" session. But I'm very much looking forward to it. As he sleeps I thought now might be a good time to recount my birth story. So pull up a chair, it's a long one!

The Good - I'd like to start with the positive. First - baby alive, me alive. This was pretty much the extent of my birth plan and I have achieved that. But as a bonus I got this unbelievably cute, special, awesome baby. He didn't come out looking like Ross Perot or have flippers. He looks like me, like my family, like US. The coolest moment of the birth was for sure when they were stitching me up and he was off on the tray getting his Apgar scores done and I for the first time saw that little face and instantly knew he was mine - I knew we were connected, that he was part of my genetic pool. I can't say I "fell in love" or that suddenly all the pain of labor was forgotten or didn't matter, because it does matter. But the good news is he matters more, and I guess that's all you can ask for really!

My Doula friend and my sister being right at my side for the whole thing was enormously important, more than I ever would have imagined. I highly recommend NOT doing this alone or with people that stress you out. They knew just when to let me work on my own and when to hold my hand, and, as I'd hoped, when to be my advocates (there were MANY times when we had to get tough with the people in charge, and it worked).

I didn't end up with an emergency c section; I was able to push him out. So one thing went the way I'd hoped. The baby was a trooper the whole time - never in distress, never caused any of us the least amount of concern. For this and everything else I am VERY grateful. I can't imagine the torment of laboring with a baby that was in trouble. Knowing he was always ok was a huge comfort to me.

The Bad - I hate to tell you, ladies, but you know I wouldn't bullshit you: this birth experience was the worst experience of my life. It was exactly as bad as I'd feared - a torment of pain and misery, coupled with maddening hospital procedures that (as I'd feared) kept me on my back in bed with no liquids or food, unable to walk around or (hardly) change position to help myself. I think a natural birth without all the chemicals and interventions would have been a totally different experience - painful, yes, but empowering and awesome. But you know, it just wasn't in the cards for me. Having to be induced due to pre-e ain't pretty, and it came with every complication and drug and mishap I could have imagined (again, other than the c-section part, so hooray for that).

Here's a quick blow by blow:

Admitted at noon on Thursday. Still no dilation to speak of. I was examined, then stuck sitting around for nearly five miserable hours until I was administered cervadil to get the ball rolling. Was administered IV by trainee who butchered me, then had to remove it and try again on the other hand. Doctors couldn't agree on whether the name of the drug I should take was cytotex or some other thing, nor the possible side effects or effectiveness. NOT confidence inspiring.

Had a long, miserable night of contractions until I just couldn't take it anymore; only pain med available at this stage was morphine, and I went for it out of sheer desperation. It was a horrifying experience. My body got hot flashes all over and I thought I was having a bad reaction - it terrified me. However, it did take away the excruciating pain temporarily.

At 6:00 AM Friday although I was only about 1 cm dilated it was enough for the foley bulb to help dilate me more, so that was put in. The person who did it made a mistake and jabbed me so hard inside with a piece of metal that I nearly jumped off of the table. I believe this may have caused some of the problems I had later.

Fortunately the bulb did its work. By 3:30 Friday the bulb came out as I went to pee - I was dilated to 4cm. Pitocin was then started. Three hours later the pain was so intense I went for the epidural, which was painless and brought some relief. Unfortunately both of these events - the pitocin and epidural, meant no more moving around, eating, or drinking. I was catheterized, had so many IVs going we could barely keep track, and couldn't move. At this point I had been in the whole induced labor experience for about 24 hours.

As Friday night wore into Saturday morning, the epidural ceased to be terribly effective, I was in a torrent of pain, and started shaking uncontrollably and developed a high fever, which the 85th series of doctors who'd come to see me told me meant that now my son would be in the NICU for days after birth to make sure my fever hadn't affected him (great thing to hear at that moment). Was put on antibiotics.

Some time during Friday night I finally had my "lose it" moment. I was having awful continuous contractions with no respite, cervical checks were showing no progress, and nobody could come up with a plan for what to do next other than have me suffer more and see what happens. My sister finally stepped up and demanded someone make a plan because I couldn't go on (I was inches away from demanding a c-section).

Luckily that hour's doctor did make a plan - we'd try breaking my water and see if that would speed things along. They did, and it did! Although Friday night into Saturday morning was the most unbelievable pain I could have ever imagined, there was nothing to do but get through it. I comforted myself making animal sounds and feeling the sides of the hospital bed (echoes of the small piece of cardboard that comforted me during those long nights of my morning sickness).

At last it was time to push, but I have to admit I had nothing left at this point - no sleep, food, or water for days, and worn out by days of excruciating pain as well. While pushing even I knew I was faking it half the time. The nurse picked up on this and kindly let me rest and work on it on my own, which I did. I was at last able to turn on my side and, grasping the hospital bed controls, my body pushed for me. A friend once told me your body takes over and pushes for you, which I didn't realize happened; I thought you had to make it push. But not in this case. Every minute or so I would just be wracked by this intense process of shoving this little person down the birth canal. Somehow my brain drifted out to Sunset Blvd and I pictured the big bright Mexican Restaurant out there, and wondered who owned it, and why the owner had taken over my body and was making me push. I did mention I had a high fever, right...?

So upon positioning me again the nurse was delighted with my progress and the whole team came bustling in. I asked to continue to push on my side and they let me, so with Doula on one leg and sister at the other, I pushed his little blonde head out. Doula said, "oh my God, his eyes are open!" and "he's out!" and my sister said, "he's out!" and somewhere in my stupor still wondering why that restaurant owner was being so mean to me I echoed, "he's out!!" and literally two to three pushes later he really was out in his entirety, and rushed off for testing while I was stitched up. And all I could think was thank God it's over. It's over and he's alive and I'm alive. And no more pain. They let him rest on me for a few minutes before being taken to the NICU. I told him I'd heard so much about him. He had a crazy cone head but otherwise was perfect and alert and just checking everything out.

So he was born at 9:54 AM Saturday. The remaining days have been all about visiting baby in the NICU, failing utterly at breastfeeding, being intruded upon day and night by an army of doctors and nurses filling me with antibiotics, bleeding, peeing myself, and watching bad TV while waiting to find out when we could go home.

Thank God I didn't have to worry about him - everything about his being in the NICU was purely about being precautionary because of my fever. I felt guilty having this healthy nearly 8 lb baby there when the other babies were so tiny and troubled. I knew he was in good hands and honestly reveled in the recovery time - although it's totally screwed up breastfeeding and probably some bonding, honestly I was in so much recovery pain and so generally out of it from lack of sleep that I couldn't have done much for him.

We were at last released tonight and I am feeding him formula with a syringe every three hours because it's honestly the only way to keep him from starving at the moment. Tomorrow I go back in early in the morning for some remaining tests he needs, then we're on our own! I am terrified of this, but can only think of one thing at a time, so for now it's just making it through tonight. Tomorrow is another day.

So, why do I recount the horrors of my birth experience? Why do I want to remember all the bad parts? Because I believe pain is real, and legitimate, and needs to be honored before you can let it go. Yes, my labor experience totally sucked. And it has made me never, ever, ever want to do this again. I believe my son will be an only child, and I'm ok with that. Was it worth it? Well, of course! As I took a nice long shower tonight I thanked my body. I thanked it for being pregnant, for nurturing a healthy, awesome baby who was and is such a trooper, and for being in labor and getting me through it. We survived. I don't have to forget the pain but I can just say yes, it happened, and now we're moving on to the next thing. Which looks something like this: