My Birth Story

 As I sit down to write this story, almost a month and a half later, it feels as if it were yesterday, but also a million years away. 

I remember Sebastian’s birth as if it were a dream. I know it happened to me, but I never felt that what was happening was real. 

Sebastian was due on September 28th, 2020. We had thought for a long time that he might be early- due to the possibility of a c-section because of complications with my placenta. I had what is called placenta previa- where the placenta sits on top of the cervix, getting in the way of a natural birth. However, my placenta began to move out of the way and by 36 weeks, I was cleared to try a vaginal birth. I was ready to go. However, September 28th came and went. Still no baby. Part of me always believed he would be early- of course he would be a September baby! Once September had passed us by, the anxiety started to set in. Would he ever come? Would I be pregnant forever! We had a midwife appointment on Thursday, October 1st, an appointment I had made weeks ago but never thought I’d need. At that appointment, we set a date to be induced. Induction had never been a part of my plan. I was coming to learn that pregnancy, as with parenthood, had no plans, but rather an ever changing whirlwind of events. 2020 sure had been a year full of the unexpected.

We set the induction for Wednesday, October 7th. Both my midwife and I were convinced the baby would come before that. I should have known better. On the eve of October 7th, still no baby. We were going in the next day. It still didn’t feel real, even though the hospital bag was packed, I was as large as a whale, and I was sure I’d burst at any minute. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Early labor had been going on for 48 hours or so, with mild contractions coming every 15 or 20 minutes. I lay awake all night, obsessively tracking my contractions, convinced active labor was beginning. In hindsight, I wish I had just slept that night, not worrying about contractions. I could have used all the sleep I could get. If only I had truly know what was coming.

The morning of October 7th came. They had said they would call us sometime that day to come in, but my midwife said they usually don’t call until after 9am.  Maurica and I woke up leisurely, enjoying our coffee and putzing around the apartment, getting it ready for baby. At approximately 7am, I get an incoming call from Mt. Auburn. They said to eat a light breakfast, take a shower, and head on in. Holy shit. This was it. I went into full panic mode. We packed the car in trembling, frantic energy. I had never been more nervous. We had left the house so many times thinking that maybe we would return with a baby. This time it was certain. We wouldn’t be coming back without Sebastian. 

Arriving at the hospital felt like walking into someone else’s life. We settled into a lovely room overlooking the Charles River, ready to play the waiting game for a few days. Our doula Ashley would come meet us once I began active labor. The midwife did her first exam and said I was only 1cm dilated. Crap. I had a long way to go. They administered the first round of Misoprostol around 10:00 am, telling us they would administer up to 6 doses, every 4 hours. After taking the first dose, we set up camp, ordering breakfast and getting as cozy as we could. Contractions were still 10 minutes or so apart and though painful, weren’t debilitating. As we ate yummy breakfast sandwiches and attempted playing  a game of cards, I tried to calm my nerves, but had trouble concentrating. How far apart were my contractions? Were they getting more frequent? After the second dose, nothing much has changed, and I was still obsessively timing my contractions, hoping for some progress. When the midwife came to check in on me, she did another exam and said I was only 3 cm dilated. I was making progress, but I wasn’t yet in what they call active labor. I remember at that point the frustration setting in. Although I had only had 2 doses, I wanted to see more progress. I wanted to get things going. I wanted to get this baby out of me! I remember ordering dinner and trying to get some sleep- which of course I couldn’t. Contractions were picking up and left me writhing in bed every few minutes. 

My memories of the night slowly fade into haziness sometime in the late hours of October 7th. I know they administered a 3rd round of misoprostol. I know contractions started to become so painful I couldn’t talk through them. I know they did another exam and I was now at 6 cm. Active labor was here. The reality that this was really happening began to sink in. 

When looking for the words to truly describe the pain of labor, the first thing that comes to mind is...primal. For approximately 8 hours, I was in a state of truly primal existence. The memories come back to me in waves, outlined in haze. 

At some point, the nurse and Maurica drew me a bath. I remember being helped into the bath and letting the water wash over me, easing the pain of an incoming contraction. At some point I told Maurica to call Ashley and she showed up in all her wonderful calming presence. I remember her massaging me when I was lost in pain. I remember her encouraging me with her soothing words. I started the night with a hospital robe but by some point clothes no longer mattered. I remember wandering the room buck naked, not caring who saw me. At some point Maurica laid down to take a nap and Ashley stayed by my side. I remember taking another bath and realizing this was the only place I could find some semblance of comfort. I stayed here for what felt like hours. Between contractions, I would drift into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, never fully being released, but gaining strength for the next contraction. At some point the bath became cold and Maurica and Ashley helped me out. I remember crouching on the bathroom floor, letting out deep, low, animalistic groans of pain. I paced the room, completely in the nude, pretending to be the warrior I hoped I could be. 

I remember the contraction that put me over the edge. It was so long and so painful, I thought I was going to burst open. I didn’t think I could do it anymore. That’s when I begged for help. I knew in my semi-conscious state that I didn’t want an epidural, but that I needed something, anything, to calm the fire within me. I remember Ashley’s calm and steady voice guiding me towards the nitrous oxide. There was some form I signed (who knows what it said). I remember laying down in the bed, putting the mask to my face before the next contraction hit. It was still painful- still left me withering and spazzing- but it was manageable. I could do this.

I don’t really know how long I stayed on the nitrous oxide. With each contraction, I began to want to push. I remember the midwife telling me not to.  It wasn’t time yet, she said, the cervix wasn’t ready. I remember with anger and frustration and fear having to breathe through the urge to push, keep my body on the brink of explosion. With the help of my team- the midwives, Ashley, and Maurica- I got up a few times and walked, used the bathroom, cried. I remember one contraction passing while I sat on the toilet, the nitrous oxide far away, wishing it would all be over. But somehow, I did it. Somehow I survived. 

At some point the midwife came in again and examined me, telling me I was ready, it was time to push. The next hour and a half existed in a world beyond myself. It was truly a foreign feat of unmeasurable pain. With each contraction came the urge to push and my focus narrowed to just that- nothing else in the world mattered except getting that baby out. I had to learn how to push correctly, which honestly felt like I was pooping. Once I got the hang of it, I was just ready to beast through it. I kept my eyes closed, letting the determination wash over me. I rested briefly between each push and then went at it again, Maurica holding one leg, Ashley holding the other, my face ready to burst. At one point, they said they could see the top of his head and showed me with a mirror. That tiny image, that beautiful vision of his slimy head, gave me the last bit of energy I needed.. A sense of urgency overtook the room. My birthing team encouraged me to take shorter breaks and push for longer. (Apparently I was bleeding pretty heavily at that point and they had become a little alarmed, though I knew nothing of this, thanks to them.) I no longer knew where I was, who I was, or what was becoming of my body. I knew only that my body had become a battlefield. I was going to win, I was going to finish this. I needed it to end. 

Eventually, after time had ceased to exist, I gave one final push and that was it. I felt something slide out of me. I heard crying. Sebastian was here. Maurica had caught him and with the help of my team, gently placing him on top of my chest. I held him there, his cries dying out against my skin, his slippery body clinging to mine. I held Maurica’s hand, too dehydrated and tired to produce anything but invisible tears. I was looking down upon this scene: a new family of three, embracing for the first time. He was here. He was really here. Nothing would ever be the same.