I thought I'd share Apollo's birth story. And, in keeping with my tardy nature, it being now six months since it happened, this seems like the time to do it.
I was 35 weeks pregnant when Apollo decided he wanted out, quite unexpectedly. I remember partially waking up around 4:15AM on March 13 to a light discharge of fluid, but I assumed it was mucous, shrugged it off and went back to sleep. Around 6:30AM I woke up fully and got up. I was still feeling slight trickles of fluid, only now I was beginning to have mild contractions. That got my attention. I told Tom (who was home from work that day, thank goodness) and sent a message to my boss giving her the heads up that something was going on and I might need to call off work. At this point I seriously doubted it was real labor and figured I might be put on bedrest, at most. But then I went to use the bathroom where there was a sudden gush of clear fluid and a little bit of blood. I thought "Okay, maybe this is really happening..."
I had a prenatal appointment scheduled for that morning, so we decided to just go in and see what my doctor said, as opposed to rushing to the hospital. I was glad for the excuse not to go right away, because if this was true labor I wanted to spend as much of it as possible at home. The contractions were very mild but steadily progressing, and I began timing them on the way to the appointment (they were between 4-6 minutes apart). We arrived and I explained the events of the morning. Dr. B. took a swab of the fluid I described and sent it to the lab and as we'd suspected, it was amniotic fluid. He also checked my cervix and I was mostly effaced, but only dilated 1 cm. I wanted to stall and labor somewhere other than the hospital, but since my water had broken he sent us right away. I was extremely nervous the whole way.
We arrived at the hospital and sauntered inside and up to Labor & Delivery. Now, this being my first pregnancy, I was not particularly big, and I was wearing a loose-fitting shirt that hid the bulk of my belly The woman at reception was a bit confused when I told her I was checking in. "Oh. Are you visiting someone?" I replied "Nope. I'm in labor." And she jumped up in a panic and ran around trying to find her little ID card that would open the doors for us. I assured her she could take her time, the baby wouldn't be out for a while.
We got all checked and settled in to our big, open room around 1:00, and the monitors were strapped into place. I was put on Pitocin (ugh) and a cautionary antibiotic, since I never got a chance to do the Group B Strep test at the clinic. I didn't have much freedom once everything was hooked up, which is not how I had hoped my labor would go, but since I also hadn't expected preterm labor I didn't argue. I could still move around on the bed, and stand up and walk a few feet if I wanted to. I had prepared myself for a totally unmedicated, natural birth, and despite the few setbacks, I was still determined to have this baby as close to naturally as possible. So I declined an epidural.
For the first hour or two everything progressed slowly. Tom and I decided we wouldn't tell anyone yet that the baby was coming, so as not to cause undue hysteria. We just sat and chatted, laughed at how unprepared we were, he went to the store for some snacks and drinks, etc. Then around 2:00 that Pitocin really started kicking in and the contractions became much stronger, though I could still easily talk through them. The nurse on duty, Renee, came in at one point to turn the drip up to 2, but that caused a four-minute contraction that seemed to upset the baby so she turned it back down to 1 and left it alone for a while. They began turning it up a few hours later, but I didn't seem to need too much of it. The contractions had been progressing steadily from the beginning. Dr. A. checked my cervix a little while later, and I was dilated 6 cm.
After that, time just blurred and seemed to fly by (at least to me. Tom had nothing to do but sit there and watch me in labor, so the time probably dragged for him). By about 4:00 the contractions were intense enough that it took a lot of focus to relax through them. Tom held my hand and encouraged me. At first I think I was managing the pain pretty well. Tom and I hadn't been to our childbirth class yet (it was scheduled for that weekend!) so all I had under my belt were the relaxation techniques I had practiced from the Bradley book my mother-in-law gave me. But after a few hours of success I guess I started giving way to the pain a little bit. I still controlled my breathing but it was getting harder and harder to relax my body. I would tense up and writhe around with each strong contraction. Finally Tom and the nurse (by this time it was a new nurse, Morgan) pointed this out to me and I started trying again to let myself relinquish control and relax so the contractions could do their job. Shortly after that the doctor checked me again and I was at 7 cm. I was very discouraged--only 1 cm more than the 6 that felt like days ago.
After that the pain kept increasing and all I could focus on anymore was getting through each contraction. People were coming in and out of the room but I barely noticed. I remember one of the nurses named Michelle showed me a LaMaze breathing technique, which was very helpful in maintaining control. She also brought me some mouth moisturizer since the breathing made my lips so dry. I also remember the doctor asking if I wanted to be checked again, and I said no because I was terrified of learning again that I had barely progressed. But eventually I could hardly speak even to Tom, though it was hugely comforting just being able to grasp his hand. I knew because the pain was so intense that this had to be the worst of it, and it would be over soon, but that didn't stop me from fantasizing about pain medication a few times. Thankfully I knew, even in the thick of it, that I would regret an epidural more than the pain, so it didn't go further than a fantasy.
I was sweaty and very exhausted. I kept dozing off between contractions, though the breaks were becoming shorter and shorter. I was still able to relax through them, but it took great focus to breathe, and even then my breathing would turn into moaning. My face was starting to feel very hot with every contraction and I had Tom soak a washcloth in cold water so I could hold it against my cheek. I was convinced that pushing was still far away and these agonizing contractions would last several more hours. It must have been around 10:00PM that Morgan and Dr. A. told me to let them know if I started feeling the urge to push. I almost didn't take them seriously. But then, not long after that, finally, finally, I felt downward pressure after a contraction. It wasn't enough to push, but it was the beginning of the end. (I have a very vague memory of telling Morgan about the pressure, and Dr. A. checking me again and saying I was at 9 cm, but that period is so fuzzy that maybe I am imagining it.) The pressure lasted through a few more contractions, and they were the most painful yet, but I was excited at the thought of pushing. Suddenly, just as one of those contractions was ending, I felt an intense urge to bear down and push. I told Tom, Tom called Morgan, and she came in to check my cervix. I was contracting as she slipped her fingers in and boy, did that hurt. I stifled a groan. She felt the opening, looked up at me and said, calmly but eagerly, "Okay, Jean, I need you to take two deep breaths. Good. Now take a third breath, hold it, and while you're holding it, push!"
I was all too happy to push. I pushed hard. I let myself cry out as I pushed. It was wonderful to release that tension. I felt a strange bursting sensation inside me and I knew the baby's head had pushed through the cervix. Morgan stood up and walked out briskly, saying into her phone as she exited, "We're ready to deliver in room 6." It was almost 11:00PM.
Now the room was swarming with people and I was suddenly alert and excited. At that moment I felt no pain. I wasn't comfortable--there was a baby sitting inside me somewhere between my uterus and the exit--but the truly painful part was over. Everything was excitement; nurses were prepping the table and equipment nearby for the baby, Morgan was breaking down the bed and getting my feet in the stirrups, and Dr. A. was gowning up to catch the baby. I felt high and giddy, and the next ten minutes was one long adrenaline rush. The pushing took barely any time at all. Morgan and Tom helped me hold my legs up and lean forward as I pushed. During one push my leg slipped and I kicked the doctor in the face. I didn't even realize it happened, but apparently my toenail stabbed her chin so she had to get up and sanitize the wound. I felt bad and apologized as best I could in my state and everyone just laughed.
The baby seemed to be making considerable progress with each push. I'd been pushing for maybe five minutes when Dr. A. said "I see the head." And about a minute later I felt a moment of searing pain and she told me I was crowing. I pushed once as hard as I could, desperate to get him out, and felt his head emerge. The rest was easy. One more push and his body slid out. He cried immediately and they placed him, all wriggly and covered in vernix, on my chest. It was 11:09PM. He was 5 pounds, 8 ounces.
I was very glad during the moments right after that I hadn't gotten an epidural. I could feel my legs, I could sit up on my own, I could walk to the bathroom. About fifteen minutes after Apollo came out, once he'd been taken to be weighed and measured and whatnot, and Morgan was finished cleaning me up and pressing on my belly and all that fun stuff, I began calling my family to tell them the news. It had been a very unexpected sort of day, and I was glad it was over, glad that huge, looming task of labor was out of the way, glad our baby boy had arrived and was healthy and perfect.
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