I didn’t prepare for a c-section. Me. The planner. I was going to have a vaginal birth. I worried excessively about tearing. I made padsicles. I put together an entire vaginal birth recovery kit for myself. I didn’t even consider the alternative, which was pretty stupid, looking back.
I mean, I knew it was a possibility….I even did a pre-op consult “just in case” (my brilliant, and extremely thorough doctor was a genius ordering this, by the way) things went sideways during labour.
Well, sideways they did.
Contractions started about a day before I gave birth. Everyone, including me, thought I’d go much earlier than this….so I was surprised when the calendar showed I was approaching my due date with no real signs of labour leading up to it.
I had a routine prenatal appointment on Thursday (Jan 5th), and the doctor offered a cervical check (and a sweep of my membranes, if she could get up in there at all). The last cervical check she did the week prior showed no dilation and was fairly painful – but I agreed to another one because I wanted to see if I had made any “progress”.
I don’t recommend these, by the way. They hurt, and if you haven’t dilated, you leave feeling frustrated and impatient. Even if you are told you have dilated….it really means nothing in the grand scheme of things – the baby will come when the baby comes. There’s really not much you can do to force the issue…and all the red raspberry leaf tea, spicy food, and sex in the world most likely won’t help you.
Anyway, she did the check and I was “fingertip dilated” and soft. This means that there had been minimal progress since the previous week, so I guess that’s good – but I left feeling like I’d be pregnant forever. I was 39 and a half weeks pregnant at that point. Also, she wasn’t able to do a sweep because I wasn’t dilated enough for her to get in there.
The following evening (Friday, Jan 6th), I had some contractions and lost my mucous plug. Don’t look this up on Google images if you don’t know what it is. Read about it in a pregnancy book instead, or ask a friend. I already knew what to expect….but it’s different when you experience it yourself. It’s gross, and there was way way more *stuff* than I thought there would be. After the bulk of the plug came free, my contractions slowed considerably and I was able to rest a bit.
On Saturday (Jan 7th) , I had contractions on and off all day but nothing close together, and they weren’t too bad so I shrugged it off and tried not to get too excited. Later that evening they picked up in intensity but were still pretty far apart. I started timing them with an app on my phone, and tried to sleep through them but was only able to snag a few hours of sleep.
From about midnight to 6am, the contractions came regularly but were still too far apart to go in to the hospital. (I had been told the 5-1-1 rule: 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute each, for an hour) I couldn’t sleep through them…so I stayed awake in bed, breathed through them, listened to a hypnobabies program to “relax” (which had been working for me each evening prior to this….but not working so well this night), and lied there timing them every few minutes for hours. My husband slept through this, until about 6 am when I finally woke him up to tell him to start the vehicle and get ready to go to the hospital. I told him that I thought I had some time, as my contractions were currently about 7 minutes apart.
By about 6:30 am, my contractions suddenly jumped from 7 minutes apart to about 3-4 minutes apart. Apparently my body somehow missed the memo that it was supposed to give me a long one hour window of time where my contractions were 5 minutes apart.
We went to the hospital then, and I was hooked up to a non-stress test to measure the contractions and keep track of the baby’s heart rate. Sure enough, my contractions were about 4 mins apart, and though they weren’t yet lasting a full minute, the nurse (Judy) determined I was in labour and after a while of being monitored, admitted me.
After being admitted, I was left to progress in my labour. I continued to try and listen to the hypnobabies recordings I had on my phone, but ended up getting really frustrated at the condescending woman in my ear buds telling me to enjoy the contractions I was feeling. Fuck you, I thought. And then I stopped listening. Instead, I bounced on the ball, paced around, and tried to distract myself.
The pain was bad, but I wanted to try and progress as much as possible without medical intervention just to see if I could. I’m not anti-meds, and wasn’t set on a natural birth – I just wanted to wait it out. I didn’t know what to expect, but wanted to be open to whatever came my way. My husband was amazing – helping with counter pressure, and reminding me to breathe (but so not in an annoying way).
I don’t remember when I first asked for drugs. It was after lunch, but I’m not sure how long after. I wasn’t really aware of the hours slipping by. Just the minutes between contractions. I was checked for dilation (about 4cm), and given morphine.
I love morphine.
Seriously. I didn’t feel foggy or drugged – but my pain was well managed. I would ask (and did) for morphine again and again if I could have it….but you can only have it early in the labour, which is unfortunate. I only got it once. It was heavenly. I was able to walk the halls on morphine. My husband and I even went to the cafeteria. I still felt the contractions, but the edge was gone.
Another few hours passed, and I was checked again for dilation. I think I was maybe 5cms, and the morphine was wearing off so I asked about other pain management options. I didn’t want an epidural because I wanted to be mobile, so I had two choices: fentanyl, or nitrous oxide. Having a mask on my face freaks me out, so I chose fentanyl.
I do not love fentanyl. It made me feel foggy. It made me feel sick. And it barely touched the pain. Thankfully, it wears off pretty quickly.
Around 6cm dilated, the effects of the fentanyl were gone and I was in agony again. I have not felt pain like this in my life. Well, that’s a lie – it was similar to the pain I felt when I had my first miscarriage….just on a way bigger scale.
I asked for an epidural finally. I don’t know what time it was. After dinner time, most likely; meaning I had been in labour for at least 17 hrs at that point. I was exhausted. I was in pain. And I wanted that pain to end. I was so done.
The epidural was amazing. Why I refused myself that treat for so long, I have no idea. I was also hooked up to some pitocin when I had the epidural, because the epidural has a tendency to slow down your labour a bit and they didn’t want me slowing down. Pitocin sucks. It makes your contractions more intense.
Around 7/8 cms, the doctor broke my water. I remember asking if I should remove my socks because I envisioned a huge gush of water coming out of me and didn’t want wet socks. She laughed. What a strange thing to worry about. There was no gush. Or, if there was, they caught it all in a basin so I didn’t notice.
Not long after that, and most unfortunately, the epidural stopped working for me. The pain management techniques that had been working (counter pressure, breathing) all day leading up to this also stopped working. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I felt like an animal. This pain was all consuming. I’m pretty sure I was screaming, though I don’t think I was coherent. At least I wasn’t swearing at people. Or maybe I was. I don’t know.
I was checked again for dilation, and was at 10cm finally….but the nurse thought she felt “something” in the cervical opening that wasn’t the baby’s head. She didn’t say more than that because I’m sure she didn’t want to freak me out…being a nurse myself, I knew instantly that she was worried that the umbilical cord had begun to prolapse. This is an emergency. This can be fatal (for the baby).
The doctor was called in ASAP, and I was checked again.
Right away, my doctor began explaining some of the issues we were having. She was talking to me in a very calm manor (which is so not her style), and that scared me immensely. I know the risks. I know what can go wrong. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted her to act – this felt like the longest conversation of my life, not to mention it was almost impossible to listen to given the fact that I was contracting every few seconds. I interrupted her before she was able to say much, and said: “c-section?”
She stated very clearly and slowly that it was important I understand the risks before we discuss that option, and she wanted to tell me what was happening right now because I need to know. I’m pretty sure I said something like: “Yeah yeah, I could die. Just do it.” Or maybe I thought that. I don’t know. Truth is, I didn’t care about myself. I just wanted the baby to be ok, and I knew we were going the surgery route. That’s the only way to get the baby out safely if there’s a prolapse.
In a haze, I recall being told something about the baby being in a bad position and not progressing. (turns out she was “sunny side up”, and jammed into my pelvis) And another something about decelerations (baby’s heart rate dropping), and then eventually that they’d have to call in an entire team for the OR. I was reminded to be patient, as it was after midnight. People were sleeping. They would get here soon.
I signed something. I don’t know what it was. I wonder if it’s legible. I just wanted the pain to end.
I waited for the surgical team, and a nurse asked me if I had had any drugs today. I said yes – “all the drugs”. She looked at me funny, and then another nurse explained to her that I had been given an epidural earlier. They gave me more drugs. The anesthesiologist is my most favourite person, ever by the way – and I’m pretty sure I told her this. She was the one who made the pain stop. At this point, I was passing out after each contraction, and my husband was still with me – still applying counter pressure (how tired he must have been) and trying to talk me through.
During the surgery, I couldn’t see anything except the blue curtain in front of me. I also couldn’t feel anything…..except cold. I was so cold. I was shivering uncontrollably, and I wondered if I was having seizures. At some point, I also began feeling sick to my stomach, and remember shouting out that I thought I would be sick. I was strapped to the table, so I couldn’t look around to see anyone who could help me, which is why I shouted. Turns out the anesthesiologist was seated right behind me, and she gave me an injection of gravol right away. I feel a little bad for shouting like that….but I’m sure they understand.
When they pulled the baby out of me, they lifted her to the curtain to show her to me and my husband. All I could see was her hair sticking up above the curtain which was weird and slightly off-putting because I didn’t know what they were showing me. I remember asking what the baby was. We were told she was a girl, and then I heard her cry. I began crying in relief.
I don’t remember much after this, except for my husband bringing the baby over to show me. She was the most beautiful, and surreal thing I’ve ever seen.
Apparently after this, my husband left and I was stitched up. There were some complications with that, so apparently it took much longer than expected. I have no recollection or concept of the time that passed. I just remember being cold. My husband told me that he was so scared, waiting for me – sitting alone with the baby. It took so long.
In the recovery room, the nurse assisted me in breastfeeding the baby, which I didn’t expect – but am grateful for. I was still strapped down, so she held the baby and positioned my breast for her first feed.
Somehow, amazingly, there were photos taken of all of this. I was surprised when I scrolled back through my phone days later. We had hired a birth photographer to capture the birth, but she was not allowed into the OR so we only had shots of the labour. I was so disappointed that I wouldn’t have memory of the birth. As hard as it is to look back on this experience (it was fairly traumatic for me), I’m really glad I have them.
In the end, my little girl came into the world exactly on her due date, at 1:17am. She is perfect, and beautiful, and the hell I went through getting her here (including the 6+ years of infertility and losses), as cliche as it sounds, really was worth it.
Quick DIY project today: Padsicles. Otherwise known as heaven.
GLA:D 