Baby 4 Birth Story

The Birth of Baby Abigail

Abigail’s birth story starts a few days before she came into this world. On Wednesday of that week, my oldest came down with a gastro bug of some type. Obviously that’s not the situation a pregnant woman past her due date wants to deal with – how do you stop it from going through the entire house? It seemed to be a brief illness and she was feeling better the next day.

My appointment that week was on Thursday and we decided if baby hadn’t arrived by Monday of the next week, I would come in for a non-stress test. I was totally ok with that – I would have been past 41w at that point and typically delivered within that range. My first two births were inductions (40w5d, 41w) and my third was scheduled for induction at 41w2d but decided to beat her induction by a few hours and come on her own. At my 39w appointment, my doctor had referred to me as “The 41 Weeker” and I wear that badge with honor! She said we could talk about an induction the following week, when I’d be past 42w, if needed. As someone who has faced an induction multiple times, being given so much time and space was amazingly comforting. I felt certain that 1. I wouldn’t need an induction that far away and 2. If I DID make it past 42w, I wouldn’t care that I was being induced! Did I mention Thanksgiving was right in the mix of all these dates? There was zero pressure to beat the holiday or avoid a birth on Turkey Day.

As I left the appointment, I asked what her schedule looked like that weekend and who was on call. She reassured me she would be around, except for a football playoff game for her son’s team on Saturday. An out of town football playoff game. I commented that I had a friend who had been at Disney World the week before my third was born, returning home 2 days before the birth. The same friend was back at Disney World THIS week, scheduled to arrive home the following day (Friday). I can’t really explain why I was fixated on that weekend, but I wanted to know exactly what kind of timing I was working with.

I went to the grocery store that Thursday. I had all sorts of terrible junk food cravings during this pregnancy and resisted them all until the very end. I finally caved and bought some cereal (Cap’n Crunch, Shredded Wheat) and it had been so delicious. During this store trip, I bought more – Grape Nuts and some Kashi Honey Nut. After dinner that night, I ate two bowls of those two combined. Looking back to my third labor, I kind of carb loaded the night I went into labor – I ate a burger, fries and a sugar cookie. I just don’t eat much dessert or processed carbs on a regular basis but sometimes you just have to eat what sounds good during pregnancy!

On Friday morning, my husband started exhibiting symptoms that he had fallen to the tummy bug. It was a long day of taking care of 3 kids and checking on him to try to give him anything to stay hydrated. He finally gave up trying to get any work done and spent the rest of the day dozing in his recliner. And around dinner, I felt a contraction for the first time.

I had had lots of cramping and Braxton Hicks over the last few weeks but nothing combined together and nothing I would even consider needing to time. So when the first contraction happened, I knew exactly what it was. I tried to mentally will it away. Go away. Come back on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or even Thanksgiving. Just not today. I banged out an all-caps message to my friend in Canada, that I was having contractions and my husband was out of commission with a tummy bug! I knew there wasn’t anything she could do but I had to vent to someone who could calm me down and tell me it would be ok. I got the kids ready for bed a little early and we watched the Heat episode of Fat Salt Acid Heat. I downloaded a contraction timer and had a few contractions, but they were spaced very widely apart (about 15-17 minutes).  I ate a big bowl of cereal. I wasn’t really hungry but I just thought it sounded like a good idea.

I took a shower since I hadn’t had one that day and after I undressed, I caught my belly in the mirror. It was SO incredibly low…I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it like that. I continued to have contractions, even in the shower. I got the kids in bed and laid down. I turned my phone on airplane mode and put it on the nightstand. And the contractions kept coming. I grudgingly would grab my phone and add them to the timer app. They were about 13-14 minutes apart, lasting 45-60 seconds. After a few of those, I feared this gig was NOT going to evaporate, so I went to tell my husband I was having contractions. That was about 1 a.m. I decided to time a few more to see if moving around or getting up would have any effect. After 30 minutes of them coming 9-10 minutes apart, we decided I should call my parents.

While I had been in bed still, my mind was racing with “What’s the plan??” The plan HAD been to have my parents come over to watch my kids should there be a middle of the night situation, and my husband and I would head to the hospital. However, my husband could barely even get out of the recliner…he was in no condition to even get in a car, much less drive me to the hospital and support through labor (not to mention he didn’t want to spread germs!)

We decided both my parents would drive me up to the hospital while my husband went to sleep. He could handle (sort of) any kid wakeups but we hoped everyone would just stay asleep. I called my mom at 1:30. She and my dad arrived about 10 minutes later and I gave them the update on what all was going on. We arrived to the hospital around 2 a.m.

The l&d nurse who came to escort me upstairs asked my pain medication preferences and when I said I did not want an epidural, she said, “Would you like to go to one of our…” I finished the sentence: “Low Intervention Rooms? Yes, please!” Then she told me I had the right nurse – she was a “crunchy” nurse. She hooked me up to contraction and heartbeat monitors to get a baseline reading. She checked my progress and I was at about 4.5-5cm…not nearly as far as the 7 cm I had been with my third. However, I knew it didn’t FEEL like I had gone as far as 7, based on the fact I could still walk fairly normally. I hadn’t done progress checks in the OB’s office so I don’t know exactly when everything started moving.

She said she would come back and check me in 2 hours and then they would decide where to go from there. I was unhooked from the monitors and allowed to roam freely. I wasn’t even officially admitted as an l&d patient then and didn’t have any blood drawn or saline lock placed yet. When she came back to check, I had not dilated any further. This was really a disappointment. I had been laboring with contractions 7-8 minutes apart, lasting about a minute, for 2 hours and only had some softening to show for it. She said she would call my doctor to see what she wanted to do.

THANKFULLY, my doctor said I could stay, and that she was going to put her scrubs on and get back in bed. The nurse felt like if we could get the baby’s head into position, it wouldn’t take any time at all for things to move along nicely. I tried the peanut ball in the bed. I walked the halls. I sat on the exercise ball. I went to the bathroom. My contractions were longer and farther apart on the bed with the peanut ball and closer together/shorter when walking. Pick your poison, eh? I made it my job to do whatever it took to get “uncomfy” and open and get that baby putting pressure in the right spot. I’m sure I looked a funny creature – pretty floral labor gown, standard issue hospital gown worn as a robe, my Fuzzy Green Birthin’ Socks (there for all 4 births) and a big white blanket over my shoulders because the halls were cold!

The night nurse checked me again around 6:30 and I had finally made progress! Only to 6-7ish, though…sloooow going for me. Even with my inductions, once I hit about 5 or 6 cm, it was only a few hours until birth. And my third took under 2.5h to get from 7 cm to in my arms! So having been at the hospital for over 4 hours, plus a few hours at home was kind of frustrating. I had to put out of my mind the fact my husband wasn’t there. I just couldn’t even let myself think about it…I told myself the baby was going to come no matter who was in the room. Looking back, and processing details with my sister later, I think when I closed off my mind to not think about my husband being there, I shut off all communication to my support team. Moral of the story: prepare a backup birthing team with instructions and prompts so you don’t have to tell them what you need when you can’t talk. My husband knew what kinds of things to tell me and how to put pressure on me for relief, even as brief as my other unmedicated labor was. My mom and sister were absolutely ready and willing but I could not voice what I needed in the moment. The first week post-partum definitely involved a lot of teary processing at the realization I had gone through my longest (hardest?) labor with just me inside my own head.

The day nurse came on duty and she had given birth in the same room, so she was a great support person as well. My dad headed back to my house to be on the couch when my kids woke up, and my sister came up to help my mom support me. Things started to get kind of fuzzy on the times at this point. Did I mention there wasn’t a clock in the room? There was a nail for one and a sticky note that said “Clock” so I joked that it was SO low intervention that they didn’t even want you to focus on the time. The day nurse finally went and stole a clock from another room for the last hour and a half or so of my labor.

One feature of the LI room is a tub for laboring. I dreamed of being to get into warm water once regular contractions were hard to deal with. However, I never felt like I got to that point…I felt like I never got a rhythm where they got closer (3-5 min) and longer. I didn’t want to do anything to stall or slow things down, so I kept up the rotation of bed/hall/ball. I had also planned to use the tub when it would have just been my husband with me. I would have worn only a sports bra. It’s one thing to give birth with a different audience than you planned, but I felt it was another entirely to walk around a room with only a bra and a giant belly. I sat on the ball for probably about 30-45 minutes around this time and the nurse came to the room for Doppler (no belly monitors in this room – just handheld monitoring every 30 minutes) and said she was going to sit there and wait for a contraction to get the fetal tones during it. I told her “here you go!” and she didn’t have to wait long for it! She told me my doctor said she had to leave town at 11:30, at which point my care would be transferred to the hospitalist until late afternoon when she would be back. Did I mention I’ve always been a deadline worker?

After another round of the hall and a potty break, I just wanted to lay down. I didn’t want the peanut ball…I just wanted to lay on my side like I did to go to sleep every night. This was probably sometime around 8 a.m., I think. I had already pulled out the iPod with the same Enya album that got me through my 3^rd labor and it is just a great mental escape for me. I was able to get really dozy between contractions and start humming and moaning through them. The nurse checked and I was finally at 8 cm! Thanks to my sister sending text updates to my husband (who was still asleep in bed, ha!), I know that this was around 9:15-9:20. (So it took almost 3 hours for me to go from 6-7ish to 8 cm. And a total of 7 hours to get to 8 from 4.5-5!! Even with my first induction, I went from 4cm - baby in only a few hours.) She told me a little later my doctor was on the way. I didn’t have a good grasp of time at this point so I was surprised that she had even called my doctor already! That’s the point where I almost broke down. I had tried so hard to be tough mentally, dealing with labor that was NOT what I had planned, as kind and willing as my support was. Knowing my doctor was on the way was a relief because that meant I was close AND it meant someone who had been there at all my other births was on the way.

I was sitting up at one point during this time and the nurse applied counter pressure to my lower back and it was such an incredible help to me! My mom jumped to the task and asked how and where she could help with any massage or pressure. I laid back down and she applied pressure to my back, and then I asked for my hips to be pressed instead.

The door opened and a head popped in, then disappeared. I thought it was someone who had entered the wrong room, but a few minutes later my mom said my doctor was on the premises! Remember, timing was REALLY fuzzy by this point and I thought it had just been a few minutes since my doctor had been summoned. Finally she was in the room!! She showed off a photo of her son who had been duck hunting that morning and if that doesn’t sum up my doctor, I don’t know what does! She loves her boys and is so proud of them. I love that she shares her life with her patients just like they share a pretty big day in their lives with her!

She checked my progress and said I was sooooo close, just a small lip remained. She said she could break my water and that would probably do the trick. I had thought my water had broken slightly when I was on the ball still, but there wasn’t a big gush ever. There was some communication and observation about whether or not my water was still intact, had it been a forebag, where’s a hook (nothing was in the proper location in this new style of laboring room, which made for a bit of chaos once it was time to get everything set up and my doctor in her gear. Where are the shoe covers? Why is there a fridge here instead of supplies? I need size small gloves!) When my doctor was checking my progress EVERYTHING HURT and I really didn’t want to be touched anymore.

The bed in the low intervention rooms is a full/queen(?) regular soft bed. It may be a little TOO soft, though, because I was up at the top and of course there’s a lot of bed between me and the foot. My doctor asked me to scoot down and there’s just no way to express that such an event could not happen on this planet or any other. I could not even raise my hand at this point. There was just so much pressure and I was trying to breathe and not fight the sensations, but to stay open and relaxed. So my doctor just hopped up on the bed on her knees which is not the easiest thing to do when you’re covered in baby-catchin’ gear, onto a soft bed. However, I greatly appreciated the accommodation!

My doctor did break whatever was remaining of my water. There wasn’t a huge gush but it still opened the flood gate - that first sensation of BABY HEAD. In my head it was like a lead salami shaped freight train. I’m sorry if that’s random or odd but that’s what it felt like. I was powerless to stop the sensation…it’s conflicting when you don’t want to feel it any more but you also know it’s what has to happen. Then there was a break with nothing. It felt like a long gap but I’m sure it was only maybe 20 seconds. It was like the space of time when a home run soars out of the park, when a figure skater flies, when a glass is briefly suspended before crashing on the floor. Nothing. Happened. Nothing. Hurt. Then another, more powerful shift of the baby freight train that lasted longer than the first move, and a really short Gap of Nothing. My sister whispered “You’re almost there!” Thennnnn the final really long really ouchy “make it stop just hold on for the ride” descent ending in a baby head popping out, a glistening baby body flying out right after it and plopping onto the bed. I know my OB is a top notch, skilled baby catcher, but I have to say I was relieved there was soft bed under baby, not open space.

It’s a girl!!! We had waited to find out what we were having. I just realized I don’t know who told my husband what we had just had. Someone texted him to let him know! We definitely weren’t able to communicate with friends and family as much as other births because my husband wasn’t there and I tried to text his family at 8:30 (I’m amazed my brain could function that well by then) but later I realized the text hadn’t sent. I didn’t ever want someone in our immediate family to find out the news on Facebook so I apologize if our normal contact list was overlooked!

Every pregnancy is different and every birth is different. I did not do any pushing to get Abigail out. My body and her body pushed her out without effort from me. In a way it was a relief. Obviously there is a hormone surge and can help even the most fatigued mother endure birth but it had been a really long night/morning. During the last weeks I would think to myself “Take a nap today, because if you went into labor this tired, you’d struggle.” I really tried to care for my health and energy level with exertion and diet, but hey, I’m also a mommy so things are busy all the time. I know that age is just a number but I feel like I performed at least as well as with my first, almost 10 years earlier. And my recovery after unmedicated birth has been so much easier than inductions with epidurals. I will not lie. At one point on the ball, when I hadn’t made much progress despite hours of work, I thought, “You can give in. You can get something that will make you feel warm and comfy and take all this pain away.” But the other part of my brain said “Hang in there for the easy recovery, it’s just a matter of outlasting the clock.” It’s good to do hard things. It’s good to push yourself. I’m glad I run because running is great training for birth. I ran a 5 miler at 7 weeks and had a toenail stabbing another toe for the last mile. What can you do, though, but finish the race? I also ran a 10k at 10 weeks and although it sounds crazy, I felt BETTER on days when I ran and was not so queasy. So if you are planning a pregnancy and birth, I highly recommend running for physical and mental strength.

I am so thankful for the relationship I developed with my OB over 10 years and 4 pregnancies. I cannot imagine better care – I felt observed and considered but not scrutinized; I was never scared with worst case projections. My 20 week ultrasound had showed placenta previa with an anterior placenta –  potentially the trickiest kind of case. My doctor didn’t brush it off but also didn’t say or do anything that would make me really anxious about it. (Not like a pregnant lady needs help on that front, right??) And at 28 weeks, it had cleared, thankfully.

I feel like I’m forgetting some details or things I wanted to note but I can always add them later. I wanted to get down the bulk of this story before it started fading away. I just feel so blessed to have these little people who call me Mommy-Can-I-Have-A-Snack and each of their entrances was so unique and a part of who they are. Thanks for reading!