Hellobee

This birth story comes to us from one of our hostesses, Rubies!

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The story of Baby R’s birth is very generic.  There was no drama, no scary moments, nothing unusual or interesting, really. When I retell the story to people it seems a little boring — not that I would want it any other way.  I’ve read some stories that has made my vajayjay cringe and me swear off children.  And I’ve read scary, heart-wrenching ones that make me understand how lucky I am to have had a “boring” birth story.

Due Date – Friday, July 29, 2011

My pregnancy was very normal (yay!). On Friday, July 29th, my due date, nothing happened.  It wasn’t until I started getting ready for bed, at 12:10am (Saturday now) that things started slowly happening.  I peed and when I went to wipe, a giant glob of mucus was on the toilet paper.  Ew!  But then… cool!  My mucus plug!  I was excited and was sure that in the next 5 minutes, labour would begin.  Hahahaha, I’m so stupid.  I went to bed and at 5:15am (these are exact times – I took notes on everything), I went to pee again and this time, there was pinky-bloody mucus.  Score!  Bloody show!  Another sign labour was supposed to start.  I went back to sleep.

When I woke up, it was now daytime on Saturday, July 30th, and I made sure I was ready to leave for the hospital at a moment’s notice.  Unfortunately, I spent the day on edge for nothing because nothing more happened.  Okay, that’s a lie – at 6:15pm and again at 9:45pm I had a little more bloody show but seriously, I know you don’t care about hearing about that.  Another day had come and gone so I went to bed.

The next morning, Sunday, July 31st, I woke up and my husband and I began getting ready to go to church.  At 10:15am I felt a slight cramp that felt like a period cramp.  I ignored it and we left for church.  In the car, at 10:28am, another of the same type of period cramp came, lasted for 20ish seconds and went away.  I knew at THAT moment that this was the beginning of baby Ruth’s journey out.  For the entire day (and I mean entire 14 hours), I wrote down the time of every single contraction I felt, and noticed that they came every 20-30 minutes, were very mild, and lasted anywhere between 20-40 seconds.

The times with an * meant it was a teeny tiny contraction.  The circled ones (there were more on the next page) meant that it was a heavy-duty one in comparison to the others.

Throughout the day I was able to go about my business and no one would have known I was having contractions unless I told them.  After church, we went to go eat and at home, my husband and I spent the evening watching a movie (“Due Date” – in honour of our soon-to-be baby – worst movie ever, by the way). By the time the movie ended and we were settling in bed, my contractions were getting a bit stronger and uncomfortable.  My husband fell asleep quickly, but I could not at all partly due to the discomfort (I’m careful not to say “pain” but I didn’t know what pain was until the next day), and partly due to the slight anxiety of knowing that soon, it would be time.

August 1, 1:00am

At around 1am, my contractions were still getting stronger but were only 10 minutes apart.  I decided to call the hospital for their advice.  The nurse that I spoke to was very kind and helpful, but she said for me to stay at home.  She said that if I arrived at the hospital, they would have to send me home because my contractions were still too far apart.  When they were 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute long, and had continued this way for 1 hour (the 5-1-1 rule) then I should call back.  She hung up the phone saying, “Try to get some rest, you’re going to have a baby soon!”

Oh.  My.  God.

3:30am

I was unable to sleep because as soon as I hung up the phone, my contractions were getting stronger still, and for the next 2 hours I suffered alone while my husband slept away.  There was nothing he could do for me and I knew it would be a long day, so I didn’t mind laying in bed moaning through each contraction, trying to breathe them away just like I had learned in our prenatal classes.  Once in a while my husband would wake up to my moaning, see if I needed anything, and go back to sleep.  Finally, at 3:30am, I couldn’t take it any longer.  My contractions were 5-1-1 full force and I was ready to go.  I called the hospital again and the same nurse answered and she said to make my way in, but to first eat some toast and have some juice as hospital breakfast wouldn’t be served until 8am.

I woke up my husband and said, “Honey, we have to go now” and made my way down to the kitchen.  What I found so interesting about these contractions is that in between them I felt 100% fine.  But during them, I felt like I was dying.  And for the record, contractions really do feel like period cramps times a bajillionmillionkajillion.

Anyway, I made some toast, managed to eat one slice, packed the other slice in my purse (which remained in my purse forgotten for the next 8 days!  Gross!), drank some orange juice and urged my husband to hurry up.

4:00am

We got into the car close to 4am and drove in silence to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital, I was greeted by very kind nurses and I was put in triage.  They wanted to monitor my contractions to make sure that I really was in labour.  I had to get nekked and put on a gown, and it felt so weird to be in the middle of a dim, cold hospital room that I think I asked the hubs to look away. I got strapped in with one thingy monitoring my contractions, and another thingy attached to me with a button that I was supposed to push every time I felt the baby move.  This was hard to do because I kept getting distracted.  At one point my husband made some sort of comment, and I started laughing so hard that I guess it triggered something on the machine because the nurse came by to make sure I was okay.

I mentioned before that there was only one point during my entire labour that I was actually scared.  Terrified, really.  It was about 5am and the hospital was still dim, daylight hadn’t peeked in yet and I was still strapped in triage.  I’d never been on a hospital bed before in my life, and the whole experience was making me very nervous.  My husband and I were just thinking in silence about our day when, in the room two doors down, a woman began screaming her head off in agony.  She was, I assume, in the last few pushes and I’m assuming she did not have an epidural because her screams were enough to make me start bawling right then and there.  I sobbed to my husband that I was too scared to give birth, and that I didn’t know how I was going to do it.  Then five seconds later we heard the sweet, tired wails of a new baby.  And the screaming stopped.  I was still wiping away tears, terrified, that if giving birth felt like anything like it sounded, then I wasn’t going to have none of that.  I was so sad at that point.

But, there was no time for any more tears because the nurse came back and checked my cervix and I was already three centimetres dilated!  Cool!  At that point I was officially admitted and we settled into my new hospital room.

7:30am

After a couple of hours of doing nothing, it was now 7:30am and the nurse shift-change happened and a nurse named Tara was assigned to me for the duration of my labour.  Let me just say that I am *SO* lucky to have had Tara.  She was the BEST person to have.  She is exactly the type of nurse every woman needs.  She was kind, funny, gentle, caring, she told funny stories, talked to me enough to entertain me, but not so much to overwhelm me.  She was super friendly and I loved her.  I wish I had a picture of her.  She, I believe, saved my sanity – she was uh-MAAAAAY-zing.

I should stop for a bit and tell you that my contractions were still quite strong.  Tara and I would be having a conversation, but as soon as she saw me wincing, she’d stop, wait for the contraction to pass, and then we’d carry on our discussion as though nothing had happened.  She did talk to me about my pain relief options: nubaine, epidural, or laughing gas.  Nubaine is a narcotic given in the form of an injection that is supposed to take the edge off the pain, but not make it go away completely.  I didn’t consider it at all because one of the cons to it is that it can cross over to the baby and affect its breathing if not taken within a certain time frame.  As soon as I heard that it can cross over, I said no.  When Tara asked about the epidural I flat out said no.  Here’s why:

I wanted so badly to give birth naturally.  I didn’t want to give birth naturally to be heroic or anything.  I wanted to because my mom did.  My mom immigrated to Canada in 1975, and in 1978 she had my brother (naturally) and in 1981 she had me (naturally).  Her English was still not very good, she was away from all of her family (my mom is the only member of her family to leave Korea), my dad was working his ass off to provide for this new family, and essentially, my mom was totally lost.  My dad wasn’t even in the delivery room during these births.  But my mom managed to do it naturally.  Alone.  This, to me, is amazing.  I figured that if my mom could do it in the state that she was in, then I could be able to do it.

So, no, to the epidural, I said.

And the laughing gas?  I considered it.  My husband wanted me to get it just to see what would happen.  He wanted to know if he could have some.  What a joker.

9:00am

At 9am, I met the doctor who would be delivering my baby, Dr. Hew.  She was super kind and nice. I think my hospital experience was perfect.  Everyone worked so hard to make sure I was comfortable and happy.  Anyway, she checked my cervix and I was 5 centimetres – progress!  At this point, she broke my water.  It was weird… I felt her hand way up in my lady parts, she jiggled around in there and all of a sudden – SWOOOOOOOSH!  A tidal wave exited.  It *almost* felt good.  It’s like that feeling when you’re a kid and you’re panicking because you have to pee so badly but you can’t make it to the bathroom in time, and all of a sudden, horrified, you find yourself peeing your pants. And while you’re absolutely certain that you’ve disgraced yourself forever, you can’t deny that it actually feels really good – nice and warm.  Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

I was SO embarrassed and apologized profusely to Tara who came and changed my diaper.  I kept saying, “I’m so sorry, Tara.  Are you going to be talking about me to your colleagues after I leave as the girl whose diaper you had to change?”  She said, “This is my job.  This is normal.  I’m supposed to do this!”  I couldn’t get it through my head that these nurses see and do a lot – kudos to them.  Amniotic fluid kept coming out in small gushes along with more bloody show and I kept apologizing to Tara, almost crying, because I felt so humiliated.  *cringe*  To have zero control over fluids exiting your body makes you feel very vulnerable.

Then I had to go to the bathroom.  I was shuffling to the toilet trying to keep my gown closed in the back, while holding the front and the back of the pad (Tara had taken off my underwear as they had soaked through — TMI, I’m sorry).  When I got to the toilet, I had a little pep talk with myself: “Okay, you can do this.  Just whip off the pad and plant your ass on the toilet and everything will be fine.”  So, I did.  Except that as soon as I whipped off the pad, a gush of amniotic fluid hit the floor.  OMG, I wanted to die.  I’ve never felt so incapable in my life.  I wiped down the ground and when I came out I sheepishly said to my husband and Tara, “Uh, watch your step if you have to pee.”

11:00am

For the next two hours, I laboured in bed.  My husband ran back-and-forth getting me ice chips and Gatorade, and I struggled through each contraction.  By this time, my contractions were getting even stronger and coming every two minutes, lasting for a minute – it felt like an eternity.  I was reclined in the hospital bed the entire time and Tara said to me, “You really need to try a different position.”  But I said no because I couldn’t imagine even attempting to move while I was in so much pain.  I preferred to remain in as much pain that I was in than even try to move around to see if it would help.  At one point during a contraction I was squeezing my husband’s hand so hard he was actually wincing in pain, but trying hard not to let me know I was hurting him.  Tara saw him and said, “You might want to just offer her two of your fingers.  That way she won’t break your hand.”  It was now close to 11am and Dr. Hew came to check my dilation again.  I thought to myself, “This is it, I’m going to be ready to push soon.”

7 centimetres.

My reaction: THAT’S IT?!?!?!  *sob*

I started crying because my contractions were so painful that, and I tell people this all the time, I truly believed if I could genuinely die of pain, it would be due to 7cm-dilation contractions.  I was no longer trying to breathe through them.  Instead, I was sobbing during the contraction, sobbing in between them, and frantically trying to decide what the heck I was going to do.  Laughing gas?  Epidural?  My mom’s face kept appearing in my mind reminding me what I originally planned.

Then I had another contraction and broke down in wails. “Honey, I’m so sorry… but I want an epidural.  I need one now… I can’t do this anymore.”

My husband shushed me and told me that I could do whatever I wanted and that the epidural was coming.  And he was right – lucky for me the anesthesiologist was just around the corner.  She came and recited her lengthy spiel to me about possible side effects, etc. and I kept nodding and whimpering “uh-huh’s.” When I just wanted her to stop talking and just shoot me, I, through my tears, said, “How many times a day do you have to say all that?” and Tara started laughing.  She said, “Even through your contractions, you manage to retain your sense of humour.”  Except that I wasn’t trying to be funny, I seriously wanted to know how many times she had to recite the whole speech.

The epidural

FINALLY – I got the needle.  Then the skies opened up, cherubic angels descended, harps were playing and I do believe I went to heaven for a brief moment.  The epidural was THAT good.  They even set up a secondary drip that gave me manual control of extra dosage if I needed it, which I did (I only pressed the button once).  So everyone knows that the epidural numbs you from the waist down.  It is a very weird feeling.  I kept touching my legs – nothing.  Couldn’t wiggle my toes.  Couldn’t move at all.  Touching my legs felt very… doughy.  I can’t really explain it.  What I *did* feel, though, was more amniotic gush flowing out of me.  And Tara changed my diaper again… and again.  Poor girl.  At this point, it was just after 11am and my husband and I were finally able to take a short nap.

After the epidural – relief!

Tara came back to check my contractions on the chart and sure enough they were still two minutes apart and lasting a minute long.  I proudly said to Tara, “The awesome thing is that I can’t feel a thing!  I love the epidural!”

2:45pm

At 2:45pm, Dr. Hew came to check me and sure enough I was very close to 10cm.  The epidural was wearing off and I was starting to feel pressure and I knew that soon, oh-so soon, there would be a baby.

Tara instructed me that pushing is just like having to push for pooing.  It feels the same and the action is the same.  I thought that was rather ridiculous, but as it turns out, when the contractions came, I did feel like taking a giant poo.  We did a couple of practice pushes to make sure I was doing it right and at 3:25pm, I gave my first real push.

3:25pm – Pushing Begins

In previous conversations, I sternly instructed my husband that he was to remain at my shoulders, and not look anywhere south of my neck.  I did not want him to see what was down there for fear he would pass out.  But Tara told him he had to help hold my leg, and so he had no choice but to stare.  I’m kind of glad he saw it all – I suppose it’s the closest he’ll ever get to understanding childbirth.  And for the record, he said I didn’t end up pooping during my pushes.

I pushed and pushed and pushed… panting, crying, hurting, and not knowing what sort of progress was being made with each push.  Then Tara said, “You’re so close… PUSH!”  So I pushed.

And pushed.  And puuuuuuuuuuushed once more.

Less Than 30 Minutes Later
And at 3:53pm, a 7lbs, 6oz baby girl entered the world and changed my life forever.

Hi, little girl!  Mommy is so happy to see you!

Like mother, like daughter – when I was born, I didn’t open my right eye until the next day.  Baby R, I guess, was only ready for a little peek into the world.

Little did I know that the hardest part of giving birth wasn’t over yet.

to be continued….