Birth Story
In prep for labour with baby #2, I’ve been reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth and was inspired to write my first baby's birth story.
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If anyone could be “set up to fail”1 in birth, it was me, as I was due to have my first baby in less than ideal circumstances. At the height of the COVID-19 global pandemic in October 2020, my husband Dan and I made the decision to move away from everything and everyone we ever knew and loved to support a mission church on the other side of the country. In November 2020 we found out we were expecting our first baby. From conception to 1mo postpartum we were on the road for 3 weeks and moved 3 times. Due at the end of August, in June things deteriorated further. We received an eviction notice for September from our new apartment, there was a record breaking “heat dome”2 along with rampant wildfire smoke, and our support system was crumbling; my preferred Doctor and current Therapist both went on maternity leave, my Doula and her boyfriend broke up and she would be leaving town at the beginning of September, and my mother had an accident, was on a long road to recovery and would be unable to fly out to support us.
By my calculation, my estimated due date was August 18th, but at some point in the pregnancy the Doctor adjusted it to August 17, to be more precise. By Thursday, August 26th I was still very pregnant, perpetually hot and fed up, and the next day I was supposed to call the hospital about an induction. So at my scheduled check up that morning I said yes to a membrane sweep as the baby's head was low, my cervix was high and I was only 1cm dilated at 11am.
Dan and I went for a walk that evening, as we made a habit of escaping the daytime heat, and chatted about how I was not feeling right about being induced the next day. So I called our Doula Jessica and talked it out with her. I was healthy, the baby was healthy and there really wasn’t a reason to be induced besides the slight risk, for which hospitals push 10 days post-term as a need to induce. We prayed about it and planned to sleep on it. Overall my gut was giving me all the red flags about being induced on Friday, despite our crazy timeline of getting the temporary Airbnb on Saturday until getting possession of our new house which we were also renovating, and needing to be out of our apartment by Tuesday. It was time to trust God and my gut more than the medical system.
By the grace of God the membrane sweep did what it was supposed to do and I had cramping from 11pm onwards, as I tried to get as much rest as possible. On Friday I had people coming and going from the apartment helping us move, but did not want to let on that I was potentially in early labour so I played it cool the whole day. The hospital actually called and followed up for an induction and I said I didn't bother calling because early labour had started. She asked how it was progressing - I said slowly, she said the Doctor would still want me to come in and I declined. Wow, advocating for myself was scary!
By the middle of the night I couldn't sleep any more and had to move to the rocking chair in the living room to manage the increasing intensity of contractions. I laboured in my little labour corner of our nearly empty apartment till I couldn’t manage the pain myself any longer, and by Saturday at 10am I called my Doula. She suggested we head to the hospital as my contractions were frequent enough at 1-2 minutes every 4-5 minutes, progressing since 1am. Jessica arrived and took me to the hospital and Dan continued on with moving tasks.
At the hospital I was checked at 5cm dilated and was offered admittance, gladly accepted and settled into my birthing suite. I seemed to be more comfortable at the hospital knowing I was progressing well and where I needed to be to have this baby. Content and relaxed, I laboured on the birthing ball, chatted and snacked on trail mix between contractions until I felt like I needed further pain management. Nitrous oxide was offered so I tried it out and had great relief. Another labouring woman was being transferred while screaming loudly in the hallway and the nurse joked “She must have declined the nitrous oxide!”, which gave us all a good laugh.
After a couple hours, contractions increased so Jessica alerted Dan that it was time for him to come to the hospital to support me through the remaining portion of labour. When he arrived I moved into the bath for further relief and zoned in with my Enya playlist on and battery candles flickering in the dark and quiet bathroom while Dan tended to me. I stayed this way, practically unconscious to the world around me, riding the contraction waves in the tub for 4 hours. I sensed a pattern of each song and contraction lining up and when they didn't, I would get pulled out of the zone and would lose my focus and feel the pain of the contractions.
Then the fetal ejection reflex began and I started to push. A nurse came to check in on me and asked if I was pushing and I guess I was. And then, things took a sharp turn. All the lights were turned on and I was pulled from the tub and taken to the bed, as the doctors would not deliver in the tub. I tried all the positions I could before ending up uncomfortably on my back. I was cut off from the nitrous oxide as the doctor said I needed to feel the contractions so I knew when to push. So I guess it really was time to push this baby out. The doctor asked if they could break my waters. “Sure?” I said, realizing I didn’t really educate myself on that question, but felt good about my decision as soon as a massive gush occurred and a lot of pressure was relieved.
Dinner is served at the hospital at 5pm and a nursing student barged in promptly afterwards loudly announcing “Dinner for Carling?!”3, the entire room stopped and looked at him. He got the hint, put down the tray as quickly as he could and made a swift exit.
After nearly an hour of transition, I reached ‘the wall’. I was tired, hot, my hair kept falling into my face and Dan couldn't quite figure out how to pull it up into a messy bun, despite the fact that we practiced for this exact incident to occur. Dan held a cool towel around my neck but it wasn't helping. I was done. I turned to him in a huff and said “I can’t do this. Can you pray for me?”
Well, God heard my plea because what felt like just a few pushes later the head was out, followed by the body. Thrown back in bed, exhausted and relieved, “Well, what is it?”, I demanded. “See for yourself!” someone prompted, and the weight of the world in the form of a fresh, wet baby was placed onto my sweaty chest. I looked to see and announced to the room as if it was an audience holding their breath to find out that we had a baby girl. “She’s perfect! … Let’s adopt the rest!” I exclaimed in an exhale like no other, and the room laughed.
I did it. She was here and I did it. Living in that ecstasy, Dan cut the chord, I apparently birthed the placenta and had a 2nd degree tear stitched up, but I was none the wiser. I laid back, eyes closed with baby on my chest and rested. Our “dinner time baby" was delivered at 5:27pm, weighing 8lbs 4ozs, and 21in 53.5cms in length. Despite the cacophony of less than ideal circumstances, our baby girl was perfect, healthy and arrived in her own time by spontaneous vaginal delivery at 41w4d. We may have been between homes but we were together as a family of 3 for the first time in that recovery room, as the sun was streaming through the large windows setting beautifully on the day that I became a mother.