When we began thinking about the type of birth we wanted to have (emphasis on thinking not planning), Frankie and I decided that we wanted to try and do things as naturally as possible. We read up on how the woman's body was uniquely created to grow and birth a child and trusted that my body was capable of natural child birth. We never swore off medical intervention completely, because we know it is very much needed sometimes. However, we wanted to enter into the process with courage and trust in Gods plan for my body.
When I went in for my 41 week appointment, my midwife (who was amazing and knew our wishes for birth) suggested that we schedule a day to be induced. Going much more overdue didn't sound safe to her and so we scheduled our induction for Friday, September 5th at 8pm. 41 weeks and 3 days.
I prayed for days that I'd go into labor on my own, but Friday night came and so we made our way to the hospital (after a quick dinner at chipotle, per daddy's request).
Once we checked in, we met our nurse and the midwife on duty and discussed our options for induction. Because we hadn't ever thought about being induced, neither Frankie or I knew much about the process. Come to find out, there were three options available to us. I could have pitocin, which would cause me to contract and dilate pretty intensely and I'd need constant fetal monitoring. I could have a balloon inserted into my cervix to slowly help it dilate. Or I could take a little pill called cytotec that would more naturally ripen my cervix, and slowly start contractions. We immediately said no to the pitocin, knowing it has some pretty unfavorable side effects and sorry, but the balloon in my cervix sounded just about horrid. Definitely NO. So we went with the Cytotec.
After receiving my first dose, we were told it could take hours to begin producing signs of labor. We decided to try and sleep and trust things would get kick started by morning. Correct we were.
After a kind-of-sleepless night (nurses, beeping sounds, uncomfortable bed, etc), I woke up with some pretty solid contractions. YAY! When the midwife came in to check on me, she said I was still only 1cm... Booooo! However, I was feeling contractions and so I gathered all of my patience and enjoyed my hospital French toast (highly recommended).
After visits from Frankie's mom, sister, dad, step mom, and my parents (who were all totally not impatient or excited in any way... Lol), my contractions were getting worse. Stronger. Longer. Closer. Les Mis. I was a "champ" though and focused on walking, bouncing on a birthing ball (which my legs were totally too long for), bathing in the spa like tub (legs also too long), and of course, eating more free hospital food (club sandwich, highly recommended).
By Saturday afternoon, I was ready for guest to vanish. There's something about moaning in horrible waves of pain that makes you want a little privacy. Shocker. Thankfully, we have amazing family and they totally knew when to give us our space. Just in time. Because a few hours (minutes? Hour? I have no idea) later things got really intense when I was introduced to the lovely demon known as pitocin.
I decided to sit in the tub again, because seriously.... Water + contractions = very slight relief. But it was better than bed. However, things began to get a lot stronger and I was massively overheating in the lava water, so I got out and laid back in bed. Never to leave again...
It feels like seconds after I laid in the bed, the nurse and midwife rushed in. Things may have been a lot calmer than I describe, but it seemed to me like all hell broke loose. In between some severe contractions that were only about 30 seconds apart, I remember having an oxygen mask shoved on my face and worrying only about the state of my earrings that were falling out because of the shoving. Priorities, folks... I tried ripping the darn mask off, but my attempts were futile. The midwife informed us that they were having trouble tracking my contractions and baby's heart rate was struggling every time I contracted. Suddenly, my earrings were the last thing on my mind. I began to cry and stress out that my sweet baby was in terrible trouble.
When the midwife first checked me earlier that morning, we discovered that Cana was posterior (face up) and that my cervix was fully posterior as well (totally behind the baby's head, instead of straight down). Because of this, I had horrible back labor and wasn't dilating even with the cytotec. After the oxygen mask fuss, our midwife needed to check me again. Because of the position of my cervix, being checked was one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. I cried and begged her to stop the entire time. I do not joke when I say cervical checks were the most painful part of my entire labor and delivery! When she was done, she said I was only 2.5 cm dilated (after almost 15 hours of labor, everyone was pissed). Because of the intensity of my contractions, but no progress in dilation, we had to wait a few hours to see if I was able to receive more pitocin or cytotec (too strong of contractions could be very negative for baby, as we already had seen). So we waited. And I felt like death. Dreading the thought of more pitocin...
I don't remember much of the next few hours because the contractions seemed non stop and nothing else was happening. I do remember, however, thinking so intensely about a c-section. I almost begged God to allow something to happen that would require me to have an emergency c-section (the only reason our hospital would preform one). I felt defeated. I kept everything to myself, because it felt if I mentioned an epidural or pain medication, I would be a failure. After all, wasn't my body made for this? I felt like a wuss... Thanks, devil.
Eventually, the nurse came back in and said my contractions had spaced out enough, and baby's heart rate was doing a little better, so they wanted to start me on another dose of pitocin, this time, twice as much. Oh. Hell. No.
I cried and began shaking uncontrollably. I was as exhausted as they come and felt so defeated. I whispered to Frankie, "What if I get the pain medicine?" (The nurse offered an IV narcotic to try that wasn't as extensive as an epidural). He reminded me that I was brave and strong and that it didn't matter how our little girl entered the world, as long as she was healthy and I was healthy. Together we prayed and finally I was able to understand that getting pain medication wasn't the end of the world! So in came the IV meds and they helped enough to just barely take the edge off of my contractions. I was able to relax in between each contraction and actually calmed my mind and heart a bit. Praise God!
After some time (I had no concept of time at this point), the drugs wore off and the pitocin was about to begin again. I was in intense pain again and still so terrified of the pitocin that, again I whispered to my sweet husband... "What if I get the epidural? Am I a failure?" Again, he encouraged me, we prayed and we talked with our midwife about the last 24 hours. After hearing Frankie and our midwife re-tell the events of my labor (induction, posterior baby, posterior cervix, slow dilation, prodromal labor, struggling baby, feverish mama, lack of sleep, contractions almost on top of each other for more than 15 hours, etc) I realized I wasn't a failure (especially since there's no such thing as a failure when it comes to birthing a baby! Every way is still ridiculously hard, let's be real). I'd been through hell and there was no way anyone could say I didn't experience "natural labor." Sure I wouldn't have a natural birth, but I was satisfied knowing I experienced a very large portion of my labor naturally. My pride was satisfied... Bring on the epidural (and another round of narcotics while we wait, if you don't mind)!
Once the epi-dude came in and I knew relief was moments away, my entire body began to relax. Again, because we hadn't planned on getting an epidural, we knew not of what it entailed. The epi-dude (seriously, it's an official term guys) explained the process to us as he began hooking me up to the good stuff. I was very surprised that nothing about getting the epidural hurt and I was very, very pleased to learn that I would still have control over my legs! Being able to change position in bed and lift my legs enough to push made me feel like I still had some control over the delivery process.
Now, as upset as I initially was about getting an epidural, it was seriously God's gift to me! Not because I didn't feel [as much] pain, but because I got to experience the birth of my daughter in a very aware and calm state of mind. It was such a gift!
Once the epidural kicked in, I actually SLEPT! Miracle of miracles, folks! And while I slept, I was gifted with something even more amazing: dilation! I went from about 2cm pre-epidural to 9.5cm in just about three, sleepy hours! No wonder I woke up feeling like the epidural had stopped working! We called the midwife in to check on me and when she announced I was almost ready to push, Frankie got on the phone to alert our family. It was about 4am and shift change would be at 7! We told Claudia, our midwife that she was not allowed to leave until we had this baby. She highly agreed.
For the next hour, we got things ready (well, everyone else did, I just laid there) and around 5, Claudia came in with a new nurse (thank God because the one we had was not the kindest of ladies... Lol) and we began to push!!!
I'm going to bare it all here and share a bit of delivery room humor with you. When I began pushing, Claudia explained that I should push as if I was having a bowl movement. So I pushed. Hard! Claudia then said, "wow that was amazing! Are you sure this is your first baby?" To which my delirious self replied, "Well I do poop a lot..." Ha. Ha. Ha. No shame.
Any way... As I kept pushing, eventually her head appeared! Frankie actually took a peak and instead of looking disgusted like we both thought, he beamed with joy and when Claudia offered to get a mirror for me to see, Frankie highly encouraged it! I was super hesitant, but after plenty of urging, I caved. Boy am I glad I did. Do you know how encouraging it was to see the progress my pushing was making? How amazing it was to see my little girls full head of hair? How insane my heart felt knowing she was just a few inches from being out of my womb and into my arms? Incredible.
As I was pushing I remember feeling so excited, yet not at all in a rush. Although it was incredibly hard, I cherished every push. I didn't mind that I had to push for over an hour, because that hour felt utterly perfect. I can't say for sure, but I truly feel that if I did not have the epidural, that magical hour of pushing would have instead been a blur (and possible torture). Seriously, God knew what I needed.
Finally, I looked in the mirror one last time, and pushed. She was here! In an instant I had a slimy girl on my chest, a crying husband at my side and a love so intense filling every cell of my body.
Cana Marie Xavier, born September 7th 2014 at 6:11am.
Praise be to God.
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