At this point I have to make a complaint about the hospital, and while I did not have many things bother me throughout our time there, this was possibly the most frustrating thing they could have done. They had strategically placed a clock on the wall directly opposite my bed, just begging me to watch every minute drag by. I feel certain they have the room set up this way on purpose, because it probably makes it a lot easier to convince women they need help moving things along when they have watched the minutes tick by on that clock for hours. I was determined not to let time get the best of me though, and tried my hardest not to look at the clock for the duration of the labor.
My mom and Granny arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes later, at which point I was still able to talk between contractions and joke around some. I could tell that Granny was really nervous; she couldn’t handle seeing me work through the contractions, so she set up camp in the waiting room for the long haul. My father and sister arrived soon afterwards, and my dad immediately started taking pictures to document the event. My sister seemed a little freaked out, and quickly went out to sit with my Granny. For the next hour or so I was able to manage the contractions without too much effort, to the point where I worried that coming to the hospital had slowed down my progress. It wasn’t long though before things started to pick up, and by the time the rest of our family started arriving at the hospital I had to work so hard to focus that I couldn’t even greet them.
Our birthing books referred to this part of labor as “active labor”. The contractions were getting stronger with each round, and the rest period in between was getting shorter. On top of that, all of my contractions started to be what we called double-headers, because I would have one big contraction and just as it would start to subside and make me think I would get a break, another even stronger contraction would spike up. I can honestly say I would not have made it through this period without pain medication if it weren’t for Robert. During the contractions it felt like there was something trying to pull my mind inside my body, and if I gave in even for a second I would lose control and give in to the pain. It was during those times that Robert would look in my eyes, telling me that it would be okay and that I would get through this one, willing me to stay focused and relaxed. He also helped me maintain my breathing pattern, keeping me from hyperventilating and ensuring that Jack got all the oxygen he needed. Throughout all of this I was on my side, with Robert standing in front of me and my mother standing behind me, rubbing my back. I can remember them asking me a couple times if they could leave my side between contractions, either to go to the bathroom or go outside and update everyone, and I each time I begged them not to leave, becoming frantic if they weren’t back in position before the next contraction. They were my strength for the rest of the labor, and I know without any doubt that they are the only reason I was able to reach my goal of delivering naturally.
From about six to ten I labored like this, progressing steadily towards delivery. From there, things started to get a bit more blurry but I’ll try to describe it as best I can. I know the doctor came in to check me and that I was nine centimeters dilated but my water still hadn’t broken. She also said that Jack’s head was turned sideways and that they wanted to break my water and then let the contractions get strong enough to turn his head before I started pushing. Well as soon as they broke my water the contractions got CRAZY. And by crazy I mean all hell broke loose. I started to lose all control and would have freaked out if it weren’t for Robert, my mom, and my nurse. I was lying on my back at this point and during each contraction I would open my eyes and just look at each of their faces, rolling my head back and forth, scanning their eyes for the strength I needed not to retreat into the pain. This might be a good time to mention my “mantra” during all my contractions. I played a lot of spider solitaire on the laptop during the last few months of my pregnancy, so during my contractions I found myself playing out spider solitaire scenarios in my head to calm myself down. I know that sounds crazy, but it would keep me focused on something other than the pain and helped pass the time. Also at this point the hospital sent in the anesthesiologist to get my info “just in case” I needed pain medicine. This man started asking me the same questions I had answered 6 hours prior right in the middle of a huge contraction, which was the WRONG thing to do. I basically started screaming at him to leave me alone that I had gotten this far and I wouldn’t be needing his help. Robert quickly tried to answer the rest of his questions and then showed him the door.
I know it was also during this time that I started screaming some, which I had told myself I wouldn’t do. I just couldn’t help it. The nurse kept telling me not to push, but every fiber of my being was telling me the opposite. I had gotten used to focusing through the pain of the contractions, but trying to stop my body from doing what it was instinctively designed to do was completely different. I was gripping the bedrails and shaking them as hard as I could during each contraction, screaming to let out the energy my body wanted to put into pushing. I started questioning my ability to get through this naturally, and begged Robert to make it be over. He recognized this as the transition into the final stage of labor, and quickly reassured me that we were almost there. The hour from ten to eleven was the longest one, with me begging to push through each contraction, and the nurse saying no. Even as things started to get chaotic, I was able to relax between contractions. I would almost go into a trance-like state, feeling peaceful and falling asleep until the next round arrived.
Finally, around eleven o’clock, my body decided it wasn’t waiting any longer to push this baby out. I started pushing through the contractions without telling anyone, and since the nurse was out of the room Robert and my mom didn’t realize what was happening. As soon as the nurse came back she saw on my face what was going on. She checked me and said they could set me up to start pushing legitimately while she called the doctor. This was the time I had been preparing for and I knew it wouldn’t take me long to deliver the baby. I think I pushed through about three more contractions when the nurse said she saw Jack’s head. The doctor wasn’t even there yet, but I didn’t care, this baby was coming out. At this same time Jack started having some difficulties – he wasn’t getting enough oxygen and they were no longer able to trace his heartbeat. So they quickly attached an internal monitor to his skull and hooked me up to an oxygen mask. The oxygen made it difficult for me to hear anything that was going on, and I finally retreated into my own little world. All I remember from here is having a couple really strong contractions and feeling Jack get pushed down and then retreat a little bit. There was so much pressure I felt like I was going to explode. Something inside me decided I wasn’t going to let that happen for long, and so during the next contraction I used every bit of force and power I had, pushing long after they stopped counting to ten. I could feel his head ripping its way out of my body, and my instincts told me to just keep pushing, keep pushing, and all this pressure would soon be over. Later Robert would tell me that about five people had yelled at me during this contraction to stop pushing, that as soon as he started crowning they wanted me to relax, but instead I pushed him all the way out. Robert said that the nurse yelled “He’s crowning, stop pushing…ooohh, ooohh, there’s his shoulder, stop, stop, oooh, he’s all the way out!” Meanwhile the doctor was trying to get her gloves on and didn’t even have time to catch the baby. He just sort of plopped out on the bed while everyone frantically fluttered around, still trying to prepare for his arrival.
As soon as I pushed him out, relief rushed through my body. I can honestly say I felt no pain at this point, only warmth and love. I literally sat up in the bed, reaching for him, sobbing “my baby, my baby” over and over. I had definitely shaken up the whole medical staff, and as the doctor handed the scissors to Robert to cut the cord, Jack kicked them and they went flying across the room! I just sat there, staring at him in amazement, marveling at the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. It felt like we were in our own world, still connected, seeing each other for the first time but already knowing everything about each other. As soon as they cut the cord they handed him to me, and as I lay him on my chest he raised his head to look at my face. I will never forget those little eyes searching for mine, filled with a hope and peace that only a new life can hold. The details of the aftermath are much gorier and I’ll spare everyone from hearing that. Just suffice it to say the only thing that got me through was holding my son, sharing the calm that radiates from him.
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