Experience

My Birth Story

My, oh my, when I think back to the process we took to bring our perfect little spirited daughter into this world… The word that comes to mind is: DUALITY. In its rawest form.

My partner and I had done everything right. I was low-risk and remained so throughout the months. We made sure I ate the right foods and stayed away from toxins. I monitored my protein intake, ate a grapefruit and six dates daily to prepare my body. We took Bradley Method classes, and he became the most prepared and educated partner and coach for me. We wrote our birth plan and got it signed off with our providers. We sang to her, practiced breath and relaxation, spoke to her about love and joy. My sore body was rubbed, adjusted, and soaked in bubble baths. We had meetings with our birth team, made our home cozy and safe for her. We were so confident and ready. I don’t know many people who were as prepared and excited as I was for this experience. I craved a powerful, electric, mammalian birth. I was ready to call on my ancestors and tap into my primal self. The hospital bag was packed, the car seat installed, any day now, we could be meeting our first child.

And there it was, the one thing I hadn’t prepared for. The early signs of pre-eclampsia.

We made our calls, and I was told this is one of those things you don’t mess with. The induction conversation started—the one thing I was so ready to advocate against, to fight over, to go to war for. And it quickly approached as the only safe option, so we had to fundamentally shift gears completely and quickly prepare for the unimaginable.

On 12/24, I woke up. I was nothing short of a marshmallow person. I had tingling numbness from the wrists down and ankles down. My bones ached, my skin hurt. My brain was screaming at me while I stood in the shower, leaning against the wall and letting the water flow against my back. I stepped out and lost my balance, and when I opened my eyes, I had limited vision. Lastly, I laid down and took my BP: 165/115. It was time. There was no more guessing, no more holding out. I was no longer a candidate for a low-risk, natural, unmedicated birth. I called Sam, we called my parents, our doula was notified, my parents packed their bags to come to us, and we made our first trip to the hospital. The induction was scheduled for 3 am Christmas morning.

Birth Goal: “I would like to have a calm, private, hands-off birth wherever possible. My goal is to feel empowered and fully informed through every decision made during all stages of labor and afterbirth.”

Environment: Dimmed lighting in the room or natural (shaded) lighting during the daytime - as dark as possible, flameless candles. Ideally, the room will be as quiet as possible, with low voices and music of choice in the background. Minimal interruptions or extra staff & complete solitude with my partner as much as possible

Birth Plan, Interventions: “I would prefer Cervidil instead of Cytotec. If a foley balloon is necessary, I would like the epidural at that time. I would like to see if natural contractions kick in before adding Pitocin to the process. I would like my amniotic sac to rupture naturally.”

Between hour 1 and hour 60, I received 3 doses of Cytotec, a foley balloon, fentanyl, magnesium folate for Pre-E, IV fluids, 2 epidurals (both failed), 2 catheters (both failed), and Pitocin (up to the max dose). I was on Pitocin for 48 hours, with a 4.5-hour break in the middle.

If you were to ask me what my pre-eclampsia was like, I would tell you… it was fast, aggressive, angry, violent, and isolating in my body. I was already walking into the process with the feeling that in some way, my body was failing me, she had betrayed me and what was best for me and my family. How on earth were we going to navigate this? The solutions for pre-eclampsia were as far off from our goals as they could be.

If you ask me how I feel about my labor, I would have to say the labor itself and the treatment I received from our providers - were horrible, scary, and just painfully disappointing. But if you were to ask me what my labor meant to me, I would say it meant everything, for how I feel about US. I have never felt someone stand by me, with me, and for me the way he did in that room over the 3 days it took us to bring our daughter into the world. Although everything seemed to go wrong - we didn’t agree to anything or do anything until WE decided it was time and that I was ready to take the next step. Through all of it; I had him. My partner. My protector. My lover. I had Sam. He kept me accountable to my overall goal. I was able to feel empowered, regardless of the hurdles put in our way. I only and exclusively made informed decisions, each step of the way. He listened, he left his ego at the door, he heard me, he adjusted, he kept in contact with our team, he gave me space when I needed it, and filled the space when I needed to disappear. He cleaned me, he held me, and he helped me find my voice in an extremely loud and overbearing room.

Our training taught us well, firstly, the prenatal sessions we took along with our classes taught us all about what we would be consenting to. Then most importantly, we were taught to… ASK QUESTIONS!

Am I okay right now? Is the baby okay right now? If we choose not to do this, what are our other options? What are we afraid is going to happen? Are we there yet, or do we have time? Can you show me some information on paper so I can better understand?

We utilized these questions A LOT. Over and over and over again. These questions are how I was able to sustain choice in a situation that was so wildly out of my control and unknown. And furthermore, the training and support my partner had received really prepared him in a meaningful way to support me and empower me to advocate and listen to my gut. One thing I will say about my birth experience is that my partner, doula, and I did maintain much of what we had hoped for. The environment, clear and open communication, informed choice, interconnectedness with one another, and we took our time with each progression.

On 12/28 our daughter was born.

Sam was my rock. My grounding. My life-raft. He was the strength I needed in that room.

Two of the nurses, one who sat and wept with me and another who helped me navigate my fears and essentially was the reason I was able to have a vaginal birth - they were our guardian angels.

My doula was there to pick up loose ends and support the parts of the experience that Sam and I couldn’t focus on, and largely, she supported Sam in supporting me.

My faith in myself, my understanding of my capability as a mother, and commitment to this child are now insurmountable.

And then there she was. Our daughter. Perfect. Healthy. Covered in womb-cheese. Crying, but oh so beautiful. Perfection. Real-life-otherworldly magic. SHE made sense, SHE was the answer, SHE was the reason - she was everything and all things, and I had never met anything or anyone more important in my life.

As I reflect on that night, I am filled with a mix of emotions. There is sadness and disappointment that things not only didn’t go as planned but also that they went so far off. There is frustration and rage that our wishes were not honored or respected. But there is also gratitude. Gratitude for the love and support of our family, doula, and those two nurses. Gratitude for the loyalty, commitment, and partnership with Sam. Gratitude for the strength and resilience of my body and the precious life it brought forth.

In the midst of the chaos and the unexpected turns, there is one constant: love. Love for our daughter, love for each other, and love for the journey that brought us to this moment. Luna Dulanie, you are our greatest gift, and OUR birth story, with all its twists and turns, is a testament to the power of love and the strength that comes from facing the unknown together.