Joseph's Birth

I am back. Not only physically typing, but mentally thinking up more posts to type. The fog of pregnancy is lifting and I am grateful.

To start out the next string of posts I have on my mind, I thought I would share with you Joseph's birth story...and life up until now story.

A week or two before he was born, my midwife, Geoff and I looked at the calendar and picked a date for an elective induction. Studies have shown that both mother and baby do the very best when the baby is born at 39 weeks. And I do the very best when I can have a week or two less of pregnancy! So anyway, I take advantage of the studies that show that and elect to be induced.

And it worked out. Barely. The morning of the 19th at 7:30 a.m. I walked up to the family birth unit reception area to check in. I thought for sure the woman at the desk would say they couldn't do it that day and that I needed to go home. She didn't.

She probably should have. Every baby in town (term, of course) wanted to be born that day. After I was taken to my room and situated, the place got very busy. When they told me how packed they had become, I was already hooked up to an IV and grateful that my residence there was well established.

I was at a 2cm when I got there and so they started pitocin. My midwife had it started very slow and gradually built it up so that it was more like natural labor. It took a while before I felt anything. And a long time before it did anything! I was at a 3 forever. For e ver. For e ver. (Sorry. Sandlot reference.)

As the pitocin level became higher, the contractions started up. As did back labor. Yes. I now have empathy to women all over the world who've had back labor. It sucks. I should go one step further: it sucks all happiness from the world... okay, too far. It does help bring babies into the world. I should be grateful...it brought me Joseph.

It is interesting to note that the previous week I had a few contractions, though I didn't give them much credit as such at the time. Geoff and I went with another couple to see the midnight release of the last Harry Potter movie. For about twenty or thirty minutes I had what I considered horrible back spasms. They would come and go every five or so minutes... My girlfriend and I discussed them, gave a nod to labor...but since they didn't wrap around to my belly I figured it was from sitting for so long. That and my back and whole body at that point in pregnancy bothered me, so there was that too. But having gone through back labor now, I am thinking that was just my body giving me a delightful preview for what was to come. I now know that on the next baby, if I have any rhythmic back spasms...to brace myself.

So back to the story:

The back labor became progressively painful. I was planning on an epidural (like...before I ever had babies!) but we (my midwife and I) thought it best to wait until the contractions were steady and until my pain was too much for me. I was good for a while. I am thinking I carried on for a few hours like that. And then I started crying. And we knew it was time to call the anesthetist.

I was so nervous about having contractions through the epidural placement. I did; but I came through it just fine. However, the epidural didn't work.

We turned the pitocin off for the epidural. Then after the epidural the pitocin was started, but slowly again. The epidural wasn't doing its job very well. A little, but not much. He came back and added more drugs. I kept pushing the button for more. But to no relief. We tried to work with it for a few hours. It was about six hours all together when the epidural wasn't working, the pitocin was increasing, and I was doing my best to cope with the contractions. Geoff wanted the pitocin turned off. My argument to that was that if I was progressing with the dilation, I didn't want anything stopped.

A woman's ability, in labor, to not just deal with the pain, but to accept the pain as a needful positive concept, is incredible. I have a very low pain threshold. Very low. But I found myself trying to comfort Geoff through the labor (not the contractions--I didn't talk through those), convincing him that turning off the pitocin wasn't what I wanted.

I have to record this: I don't know if I have mentioned this, but my husband is an executive director, or administrator, for a group of specialty medical clinics in town. So his co-workers are also at the hospital. In my room. Yup. One of the pediatricians came into my room, sat in a chair at the foot of my bed, and proceeded to have an impromptu business meeting with Geoff. Thankfully my contractions weren't at their worst and I could breathe quietly through them. And then later in the day, when I wasn't doing so well "sinking in to the bed" with my pain, another physician called. Here I am, grasping the hospital bed rails, moaning loudly, and Geoff is on the phone. All I can think, besides 'just twenty more seconds', is...this is humiliating...and, at least his wife just had a baby last month.'

About the breathing: I didn't do the Lamaze breathing like I did with my other labors. I did whatever felt natural to me. For a lot of it, I relaxed into the contractions. I was quiet. It was nice to not have to perform some subscribed method. When the contractions became more intense, I was much more audibly demonstrative. I was grateful they were only half a minute. I would only have a minute or two between them, but I knew it wouldn't be forever. My midwives (there were two there that busy day) would check on me, and remind me to slow down with the breathing, helping me refocus. I love midwives.

So after several hours of labor that I wasn't planning on dealing with, though I did fine (because that is the only thing to do), my midwife came in and told me she was calling the anesthetist and we were redoing to the epidural. Up to that point, I really didn't want to redo it, even if it wasn't working. I fear the epidural and its possible side effects, even though I had the epidurals with the girls and all went well--I still fear that something will go wrong. I was thankful for her decisiveness, telling me what was going to happen, not asking me if I wanted them to redo it.

It was redone, I got through my contractions, once again, while they are telling me not to move or jump. It worked! Though my legs went numb and I couldn't move them, it worked. I kept having Geoff move them for me. I felt like I would fall off the bed and I wanted to lay on my side in a specific position. Geoff was able to get me situated finally and I napped. The epidural made me itchy so they gave me the antihistamine--that was what allowed me to sleep.

When I didn't sleep I shivered. I wasn't cold, but my teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

The nurse would check me every so often and finally, about three and a half hours after the second epidural was placed I was ready to push. I could feel his head and the pressure. It was difficult waiting for my midwife. But I knew it wouldn't take long for him to come out and so I best wait for her.

The pushing was lovely. With my midwife the birthing experience was a stark contrast from the previous two with doctors. No bright lights. No stirrups. No counting my pushes. It was dark in the room. I laid on my side while Geoff held one leg up. I pushed when I felt a contraction for as long as I could or wanted (except twice when she told me to stop). I think it took about four pushes. Once his head was out she said I could stop pushing and that we would just let him come out. I could feel his body twist and turn and come out. I looked down between my legs and saw my first peek at his beautiful little head.

My midwife, Helene, wiped all the "cheese" off him and then they laid him on my chest with a blanket. Helene didn't have the cord cut for a few minutes since it was still pulsing. Then she clamped it and I cut the cord.

He was eight pounds five ounces and twenty inches long. Right in the middle of the girls' weights and lengths. Well almost: The lengths of my children were 19, then 21, and now Joseph at 20. The weights were 7 lbs 1 oz, 9 lbs 11 ozs, and now Joseph at 8 lbs 5 oz. If he was one more ounce it would have placed him exactly in the middle of the girls'.

He is healthy, gorgeous and sweet. He doesn't cry much--though he does yell. He loves his mama and nursing. He doesn't like to be in a dirty diaper for long. He is very interested in his dad. He is a little nervous around his sisters...