At 41 weeks pregnant, I was tired of waddling around and having to pee constantly. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable and hadn’t been sleeping well for months.
I Googled ways to induce labor and did it all. I bounced on an exercise ball, laughed, had sex, drank pineapple juice, ate spicy curry — but all I had to show for my efforts were cramps and some heartburn.
Then the snowstorm warning came. In Seattle the snowfall is typically mild. Heavy snow is rare and has the ability to cripple traffic in and out of the city. We lived in West Seattle, which was about 20 minutes (and one icy bridge) away from our birth center.
It was Tuesday night when I got the text from our doula saying that 12-18″ of snow was expected by the next morning. She had me ask the baby to stay put until Thursday, when the storm was expected to clear. My inner dialogue went something like: OK sweet girl, Mommy is going to need you to wait a few days til you come out to meet us because nobody knows how to drive in the snow in the Pacific Northwest. Sorry for any inconvenience and also for the spicy curry.
My contractions started less than an hour later. They were mild at first. So mild that I wasn’t sure they were actually contractions. I called the midwife who asked to listen to me having a contraction over the phone. What followed was all the awkwardness of phone sex, without any of the perks. Apparently my moaning and groaning was not convincing enough. She told me to call back in the morning.
I texted our doula to let her know what was happening. I tried to sleep. I really did. The contractions got stronger and things got much more uncomfortable. At 2 am I felt a rush of fluid and sprang up to go to the bathroom. There wasn’t much fluid left by the time I got there. My dog, Duke, came running in after me. His head was half-soaked in shiny amniotic fluid. He had been lying next to me in bed, poor guy.
I called the midwife and she said I needed to meet her at the birth center immediately. Since I had tested positive for Group B Strep, I needed to get treated with antibiotics right away if my water had broken. We got to the center around 3 am. Snow was just starting to stick to the ground. Our midwife had asked me to put on a pad to collect any fluid that was left. She ran some tests and told me that my water had not broken. My dog would beg to differ. She agreed to do a manual exam where she discovered that yes, my water had broken and also that our baby had a very full head of hair. Gross.
Our midwife said we should go home and try to rest. We returned home but I couldn’t relax. The contractions got stronger and I was worried we wouldn’t make it back into the city if the storm worsened.
Hours passed and my contractions became unbearable. I called the midwife around 6 am and she agreed to meet us at the birth center. I texted the plan to our doula. Brandon drove us back and that sped my contractions right along. I remember yelling at him to slow down because every bump seemed to make the pain worse. OH MY GOD IT FEELS LIKE MY ENTIRE BODY IS STUCK IN A VISE GRIP.
Our midwife and doula met us upon our return to the birth center. By 7am, there was almost a foot of snow on the ground.
Less than an hour later, my contractions subsided. My labor seemed to stop progressing altogether. Under any other circumstances I probably would have returned home (or still been laboring from home). But at this point, we were all pretty much stranded due to traffic and the unrelenting snow.
We did everything to try to get my contractions going again. I walked the entire birth center at least a hundred times (on any other day I could have at least walked around outside). Our midwife had me do this weird straddle/walk up and down the stairs. They asked me to do nipple stimulation, which is even more uncomfortable to talk about than you’d think.
Around 2 in the afternoon, it occurred to Brandon that someone needed to go home and take the dogs out. I don’t know how or why it didn’t dawn on to us to arrange for someone to take care of the dogs. Somewhere between preparing our house, car and entire lives for a new baby, it just didn’t.
Thankfully our doula was there to hang out with me while Brandon was gone. She held my hands and timed my contractions. I remember being terrified that the baby was going to spontaneously eject and Brandon would miss the whole thing. I worried that he’d get into a wreck. I was afraid he’d make it back to West Seattle only to have them shut down the bridge behind him, making it impossible to get back.
But he finally made it back about an hour later. From there, my contractions picked up, then slowed. Then they picked up, picked up even more, slowed again. The giant jacuzzi birthing tub was the only thing helping with my pain. Unfortunately, our midwife decided that the tub was also causing my labor to stall, so I had to go through my contractions without any pain relief.
The contractions were insane. SERIOUSLY NOBODY EVEN TALK AROUND ME OR I WILL CUT YOU. But they still weren’t consistent. I walked and walked some more. At one point the midwife decided Castor Oil would help, so she sent Brandon out into the arctic to get some.
I took it at her request, not realizing that it would cause everything in my body to want to evacuate immediately. At that point, my entire birth plan became: Don’t have a toilet baby. I refuse to be like someone on one of those I-didn’t-know-I-was-pregnant shows. I will never forgive myself if I have a toilet baby.
Then the midwife tried to make me eat. The birth center had a stocked fridge and a kitchen, so they heated up some lasagna. The only problem was I didn’t want anything near me. Just the smell of it made me sick. I knew it would come right back up or make something else come out. She continued to follow me around with it, trying to get me to eat it. I don’t know how many times I said NO, but I remember wanting to tell her to fuck off. She even tried to get Brandon to get me to eat it. I ended up eating some crackers and peanut butter, mostly just so she would leave me alone.
The sun had set and Brandon left again to let the dogs out. My midwife asked him to get some Tylenol PM on his way back.
There was a bed in our birthing suite, so I laid down for a little while. That’s when the contractions picked up again. They came on strong and were lasting for a few minutes at a time. MY WHOLE BODY IS HAVING SOME SORT OF CHARLEY HORSE AND IS MAYBE ALSO ON FIRE.
I barely had time to breathe between contractions; they were coming one on top of the other. I felt a desperate urge to move my body. Then the midwife told me I wasn’t allowed to get up. She wanted me to stick with what was working. She worried that if I got up, my contractions would stop again.
I couldn’t believe the irony. I had made the choice to labor in a birth center so that I wouldn’t be stuck in a bed. I chose to forgo an epidural to have freedom of movement. I told her, “I need to get up. I think gravity will help.” Her exact response was, “Gravity is overrated.” She finally let me get up when I told her I had to go to the bathroom.
[/nextpage] [nextpage title=”Page 2″ ]When Brandon got back, I told him I wanted to transfer to the hospital. I think my exact words may have been, “All I want is a fucking epidural and a fucking nap!” The midwife reluctantly agreed, adding that it would probably be hours before the ambulance arrived. I said that was fine and insisted she call. She checked my dilation so that she’d be able to report my progress to the hospital. She tried to do it between contractions, but it was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I was only 6 cm dilated.
The ambulance came about 20 minutes later, and the midwife insisted they put me on the stretcher even though I was capable of walking. They decided the safest thing was to wheel me in a gurney down an icy hill. Right, she might slip on the ice; let’s put her on wheels instead. The emergency responders were very nice, but they definitely almost tipped me over… twice. Luckily Brandon was there to help catch me.
My doula rode with me in the ambulance, but rode in front with the driver. Brandon drove our car to the hospital so we’d have a way to get home later. The bumpy ambulance ride sent my contractions into overdrive. I was screaming at the poor EMT to please give me any drugs she had. She told me that I needed to wait but they’d have the anesthesiologist waiting in Labor and Delivery for me.
It was just after 3 am Thursday when they rolled me into L&D. Sure enough, the nurse and anesthesiologist were in the room, waiting to start my IV and administer my epidural. I wanted to open-mouth kiss both of them. They were my angels sent from Heaven. Most importantly, they were angels with drugs.
The tricky part was getting my body to hold still for the epidural. You can do this, just keep still, everything will be OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THE PAAAAAAAIN.
By the time Brandon was parked, signed in and successfully through security, I was on cloud nine. He would later tell me, “I didn’t know what happened. When they loaded you into the ambulance, you were screaming. But by the time I got to your room, you were laughing and joking with people. You were like a completely different person.” God bless epidurals. Forever and ever, amen.
They did a manual exam and I didn’t feel anything at all. To recap: I went from the worst pain in my entire life to not being able to feel ANYTHING. I love you, modern medicine. I was still only 6 cm dilated. The doctor said I needed Pitocin to get my contractions going again.
They let me rest but I still couldn’t sleep. Our baby girl was sunny-side up, so they turned me onto a different side every thirty minutes. They were also constantly checking my blood pressure. Brandon and our doula each had their own rollout couch and they were both able to pass out for a while.
By 9 am I was 9 cm dilated. Brandon had to leave to let the dogs out again and I was getting really nervous that he would miss the birth. I needed to keep myself busy. Only at that moment did I think to text my friends and family, “We’re having a baby today!”
Brandon was back an hour later and by then I had gotten to 10 cm and they wanted me to start pushing. Three labor nurses huddled around me and yelled different things at me. They unfolded a bar attached to the bed for me to hold while I pushed. They asked me if I wanted a mirror and I declined with the expected grace of someone pumped full of pain meds: “Hell no! Why would I want to see it? I don’t even want you guys to see it!”
Ninety minutes later, a student doctor said she could see the baby’s head. Then chaos ensued. That doctor went running off to find the other doctor. A table full of gadgets was wheeled in. All I could think of was the Monty Python birth skit and wonder which instrument went “Bing!”
Our room, which originally consisted of three labor nurses and one student doctor, was suddenly filled with people. I didn’t count them. I probably couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to. I remember looking up and saying, “I’m not sure why you’re all here but it’s cool because I never have to see any of you ever again.”
The doctor seemed to get into the catching position just in time to deliver the baby. They placed her on my chest. I remember looking down at her chubby brown face for the first time. It finally felt real. This baby that I’d been waiting to meet for so long was finally in my arms.
The hospital was great about respecting our birth plan. We were able to delay cord clamping. They delayed other procedures to give us some time to bond after the birth. Our beautiful girl was able to latch and successfully feed within the first ten minutes of skin-to-skin contact.
When they did her measurements we found out that she weighed 10lbs. 4oz. Yes, TEN POUNDS, FOUR OUNCES. I had a third degree tear but other than that we were all perfectly healthy.
I don’t know how things would have worked out if I hadn’t transferred to the hospital. I don’t know that I would have been capable of delivering a baby that big when I was totally exhausted. It’s possible I wouldn’t have had the energy to push.
I don’t know what would have happened if the baby hadn’t had a full head of hair. If the doctors at the hospital had to do an ultrasound to confirm the position, they probably would have noticed what a giant baby she was and might have pushed for a C-section.
In retrospect, I’m glad that midwife turned out to be kind of an asshole. I understand now that the universe tries to find a way for you to have a healthy baby, and it almost never happens the way you think it will.
I never would have thought that my labor would be about 37 hours in total, or that I should have been more specific when I asked the baby not to come out until Thursday.
I will never tease my daughter or try to make her feel guilty about how tumultuous her birth was. Not only because she had no control over it, but also because it was completely and totally worth it.
The moment they placed my baby in my arms, my life changed forever. I’d do it all over again if I had to. That’s what a mother’s love is all about — it’s not about conditions or expectations, it’s about acceptance and appreciation. When I look back on what a roller coaster it was, I don’t feel angry or resentful. I love it for exactly what it was: the day I became a mama.
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A version of this post was originally published on Ramblin’ Mama.
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