That’s right, Tom Petty, there ain’t no easy way out.
There will come that fateful moment when your fetus needs to be evicted from your body’s cozy B&B, and when that moment arrives there are only two routes out.
Neither is pleasant, although one is more scenic.
And yes, while it’s true that you have probably been waiting for this day with anticipatory joy, that’s only because mother nature has provided you with self-delusional hormones in epic quantities.
I really, really wanted to have a natural birth. And by that I mean a vaginal birth with lots of drugs in a sterile and impersonal hospital setting, with no less than four medical professionals at my bedside and a vacuum, extra forceps, and a SWAT team on standby.
I realized that I was not going to get my wish sometime around the 8th month of my pregnancy, when it became apparent that the bulge jutting out of my side was not, as I had hoped, a giant misplaced goiter, but was instead my baby’s head.
Nolan, it turns out, was in the transverse position, meaning he was horizontal in my stomach.
This is fairly rare, and so I felt pretty badass about it. I was all, yeah, no big deal, my baby isn’t interested in the normal positions.
He’s his own man. He’s basically saying, “what up breech babies, that’s all you got?!”
Nolan’s position would have been really awesome if he was competing in the high jump. Turns out it was less awesome for childbirth due to the fact that my vaginal opening is not as wide as the state of Kansas.
Nothing against my vaginal opening, yours isn’t that wide either. If it is I would like to hear from you.
The reason I wanted to deliver vaginally, I realized, was a little bit different than the reasons other moms cited for wanting this.
After reading many online forums, I learned that women often feel strongly about wanting to push their little bundle out the southern exit because they want the experience of childbirth and they do NOT want to feel cheated out of this.
I can understand that, although this experience sounds downright horrific based on every friend of mine who has ever delivered vaginally.
Women, it seems, want to feel this primal connection to their child and, moreover, to the act of birthing.
For some reason pregnancy brings out a very “we are mammals” sentiment in the masses, and people who would never consider wanting to feel, say, a root canal, suddenly want to feel something much, much worse.
It’s a strange but common phenomenon.
I had friends say to me, when it was clear that the Nolan train wasn’t leaving the station via the preferred exit, “It’s ok, Liz, having a c-section won’t make you any less of a mother.”
Huh. That thought never even occurred to me!
I wanted to give actual birth because I am competitive and like to pretend I’m tough! Not because I thought it would make me a better mother. I just like overzealous challenges that I can later brag about.
My upset over not getting to “compete” in the labor and delivery unit was real, but it was a little like the time I went skydiving – I had no interest in actually jumping from a plane, I just wanted to be able to say I did it after the fact.
Also, I had trained. I had taken the prenatal classes. I had paid actual money for them.
And I had practiced my breathing techniques! Techniques that did not appear would ease much more pain than that of a bee sting, but still.
I had practiced swaying on a giant ball to coax my baby out with my rhythmic bounces and periodic hip swivels.
I had even bought a tub of olive oil, ready to slather it onto my nether regions! (For those of you who have not prepared for birth, this nifty little trick is called a perineal massage.
It helps reduce the risk of tearing during delivery, and as a side bonus you can use the surplus olive oil for many tasty Italian dishes).
All of this intense training was for naught. A c-section was our only viable option, and so c-section it was.
Yes, I would not experience the birth of my first child the way I had hoped, but we are lucky to live in a place where safe alternatives exist.
Also, and this is no small thing, a c-section meant an automatic five day stay at the hospital.
As we all know hospitals are like hotels but with catheters and adult diapers readily available. So better! And also I LOVE hospital food! The hospital where I delivered Nolan makes an excellent Coq Au Vin. Things were looking up.
Photo credit: Christina McPherson Photography
The big day eventually arrived and things started out smoothly.
Brian was asked to wait outside while I was “prepped.”
He was excited and anxious, dressed in scrubs, hat, and booties, like an extra from Grey’s Anatomy.
I was busy having my spinal block administered, and quickly felt the lower half of my body go pleasantly numb.
The plan was for me to be awake during the surgery, but totally numb from the waist down. I remembered a good friend saying she found her c-section to be “a very civilized way to have a baby.”
This is civilized, I thought.
By the time Brian was let into the operating room the surgery was already in full swing.
He had barely gotten seated when the obstetrician exclaimed, “I see the baby’s butt!”
This was jarringly fast for Brian, who had anticipated more of a build-up to the main event. It was like going to a movie with no coming attractions. It throws a viewer off.
And with that, Nolan was out, via the express train. It was kind of amazing and kind of gross.
And then shit got real. Just as Nolan made his big debut – at the very height of emotion at this whole disgusting miracle – I started to feel stuff. Like, a lot of stuff. My spinal block wasn’t so much “blocking” anymore. Well, damn.
What’s the good of a spinal block without the block?
Very, very little, that’s what.
This was rapidly devolving into something decidedly uncivilized.
Remember, getting the baby out is only the first part. After you evict your tenant you still need to close up the apartment, you see. Lock the doors behind you and all.
“I can feel this!” I was trying to keep the panic down in my voice. Perhaps I sounded too un-panicked, because the anesthesiologist was surprisingly nonchalant.
“Like tugging and pulling?” he asked.
“No, like I can REALLY FEEL this surgery!” I could feel tugging 5 minutes ago. I felt SURGERY HAPPENING now. If I’m not being clear, those two feelings are different.
“Oh, you do? Hmm….Looks like you metabolized the medication too quickly!” His tone was breezy. “Next time you have a surgery you should make sure to tell them that your body seems to metabolize meds too fast.”
Um, yes, noted. Next time I’m having major abdominal surgery I’ll be sure to tell them. Too bad I’m in surgery RIGHT NOW.
Brian could see the panic in my eyes.
Oh, did I mention that I was tied down to the table? I was tied down to the table.
I had kind of forgotten I was tied down to the table until the part of the story where the spinal block stopped working and I panicked and tried to free myself.
Good thing I was tied down, actually.
Brian was in his own type of bind.
Unbeknownst to me, he had just been told that he needed to leave the surgery area to accompany Nolan to another room, where I presume they make sure he has all of his most important bits. Nolan, not Brian.
Brian’s bits were already accounted for.
Not wanting to cause more panic, but clearly seeing that I was losing my shit, Brian approached me cautiously, the way one might approach a skittish but rapidly angering beaver.
“Ok, I’m gonna go now…” His voice was soft. He was trying to appear calm so that I may be calmed. Which is not possible when you are actively being operated on with very, very little medication.
Uh, ok. That’s cool. I’ll just stay here and fight off my captors alone. My eyes pleaded with him but he was quickly led away.
After about five minutes Brian was sent away from Nolan’s room, too. Poor guy.
He ended up wandering through the halls, full scrubs, without either his wife or baby.
He was hoping, I think, to be with at least one of us during this most critical time.
But then I was hoping to not feel my surgery, so that made two of us who didn’t get what we wanted.
And that is pretty much how it went down.
Yes, I had “missed out” on the chance to be tough by laboring with my baby, but I was fortunate enough to get the chance to be tough by having abdominal surgery with meds that ran out part way through the operation.
Silver linings!
Which would you prefer, c-section or natural childbirth? How was your labor and delivery? Let’s hear it. Be descriptive. I want to picture your baby crowning.
Kelli
Just read your post. My son is now 1 week old and I had a similar experience. I should have had a c section like you though. He wanted out so bad after 3 days of labor that he broke my pubic bone. Who knew you could separate your pubic bones. I thought it magically stretched to let babies out. All you ladies out there reading this vote C Section!! It would be nice to be able to walk after giving birth and not use a walker for the next three months. Sadly I already forgot the nightmare and want another baby!
Liz
He broke it? Woah that is nuts! I too would have thought it magically stretched to let the baby out. It really should.
Ashley
Oh my gosh, Liz, this sounds exactly like my birthing experience. A few other twists and turns but HOLY SHIT, c-sections are BRUTAL!! And what the hell is up with the three of you walking into the OR together and then everyone leaving except you!? I hated that part. They had just ripped a human out of my stomach and then they took my new human and my husband away from me while they sewed up the crime scene. NOT COOL.
Liz
Oh yes, there were many things about the experience that were NOT COOL. Except for the catheter. That was cool.
Robin
I have been reading your blog for awhile, but somehow just saw this post on the sidebar and clicked on it.
I had a “natural” birth – vaginal with very good epidural. I started contractions at 3:30am, and didn’t wake my husband until closer to 4:30am when I realized they were real and continued happening and not just a fluke that I got up to fast to pee for the 100th time that night. He said “let’s just lay in bed a little longer” ummmm no, I’m in labor and it hurts and I can’t lay here any longer. Sorry my labor was inconveniently too early in the morning. I got up and went to start pacing the house between contractions.
A moment or two later he realized the error of his ways and came out to join me. He then made me some hot tea and turned on the television. So the morning I was in labor we were watching Honey Boo Boo, classy I know 😉 My contractions started about 20 minutes apart and I can’t remember how they progressed from there except that they got more and more painful each time and those 30 seconds (or however long) seemed to last forever. A few minutes later it was clear that the tea was a bad decision and I ended up throwing up, then having diarrhea, then throwing up etc for about 30 minutes until I was completely empty from both ends (I hope you’re enjoying the graphic nature).
I already knew I wanted to labor at home for awhile to avoid being strapped down to a bed when all I wanted to do was pace around the house half naked and be in pain in the comfort of my own home, so that’s what I did. My husband was supposed to let me know when the contractions were close enough to go in (5 minutes apart for an hour, roughly 12 contractions in an hour).
I decided to take a shower and see if that would help. While I was in there my husband called the OB office seeing as it was now around 6 or 630 am. Of course this was saturday morning over labor day weekend (how appropriate) so I wouldn’t get to have my own OB deliver my first child, the on call dr would do it.
My shower helped. Then for several more hours I alternated between pacing in a t-shirt, rolling/bouncing on a big ball, and taking bathes. I kept asking if we were close to being able to go to the hospital, my husband said probably in about 20 minutes. I said okay as I had no concept of time, but my contractions seemed to be happening more quickly. Awhile later I asked how much longer because it had been longer than 30 mintes and he said soon. I finally said, how many more do I need to have and he said 10 or something like that, so I said wait a minute, how many have I had in what length of time? I don’t remember his answer only that it was enough and we could have gone in awhile ago and gotten my lovely epidural only in his midst of almost a new dad excitement he was thinking 100 seconds in a minute rather than 60!!!!! OMG so at that moment we went to the hospital.
I was 5cm and got my epidural within 30 minutes of admission, it was heaven, I was finally able to rest. I continued dilating well for a couple hours and then slowed waaaaaay down. They broke my water and then I dilated some more, but it was slower. The OB poked her head in and said she was going home for dinner but I should be ready to push when she got back. Great thanks, I’m starving and only ate popsicles and a piece of bread after my sickness that morning and then all I was allowed at the hospital were ice chips.
I pushed for 2 hours and labored for 21 hours before I got to meet my daughter. It was so exhausting and she was a whopping 8# 4oz on my tiny 5’3″ body, I have always been rather petite. They did the whole massage thing while I pushed and I still ended up with a 3rd degree tear (the OB told me a 2.5 but she had to chart 3, thanks for trying to make me feel better) and pushed out a golf ball sized hemorrhoid trying to get her out. So every time I peed for a week or two I ended up with a spray bottle to clean off with, dabbing toilet paper, then numbing spray, a tucks pad with extra strength prescription only hemorrhoid cream. I sat on a donut for a good month, even on the couch or in the car.
Since then I loaned the donut to a friend that had a large baby with some trauma down there as well.
19 months later I have a happy healthy toddler and might be insane for thinking about having #2 sometime soon. Maybe I’ll stop eating part way through the 3rd trimester so it isn’t as big 😉
Liz
Robin I like the thorough detail here! Just what I was looking for 🙂 Also I think I might have hit my OB if she let me know she was on her way to dinner in the middle of labor!