I learned in giving birth to my son that labor is not just about the act of giving birth; it is about learning about yourself, about your partner, about your individuality, strength, and perseverance; there is no right way to give birth and that is something that every woman needs to embrace.
I had planned all along during my pregnancy to have a natural birth with no pain medications; I wasn't opposed to the idea of meds if the need presented itself, but I felt that I had a pretty high pain tolerance and would be able to tough it out. What I didn't account for were the number of hours of contractions, the lack of sleep, and the lack of nutrition that I would endure before giving birth. Every woman has a different story that shapes who they are not only as women but as mothers and partners...and this is mine.
My due date was December 27 and I passed it by 5 days - not uncommon especially for first-time mothers. We had gone to extra lengths to plan around the holidays just in case he came early and it turned out that he came on the holiday we didn't expect - New Year's Day. After spending some time with friends on New Years' Eve, we headed home around 10pm when I started dealing with some indigestion that I thought was due to the quintessential New Years' Eve Chinese food. By the time we got home, it dawned on me that the indigestion was in fact contractions. We watched the ball drop and my husband laid down to get an hour or so of rest before we ended up heading to the ER at 2am. We were ushered up to the labor and delivery ward and a nurse hooked me up to the various monitors; there we sat for 20 minutes or so until they got the necessary records they needed. For the next three hours, we paced the vacant halls of the labor and delivery ward, hoping to move things along, stopping to breath through the contractions and just talking about anything and everything including our excitement of what was to come.
At 5am, I was officially admitted; we texted our immediate family to let them know, with hopes that we would have a crying baby in our arms by noontime; no such luck. After another 7 hours of contractions, my doctor finally decided to break my water at noon to help move things along as they were going quite slowly. By this time, I had already been awake for more than 24 hours and I hadn't eaten in about 12.
After that, the contractions started coming on fast and furiously. They increased in length of duration and pain, jumping from 30-second contractions every 5 minutes to 1-minute contractions every 2 minutes. Any woman can attest to the fact that you can't even describe the kind of pain involved in contractions; you can't prepare for it having never experienced it before. After 2 hours of these contractions, I asked for some mild pain meds to try to take the edge off. I was hyperventilating, having trouble breathing through my contractions, zoning out without even knowing it and tensing up my whole body, contributing to the slow progress. Finally by 3pm, my husband knew I had had enough; I didn't have the energy to keep breathing through the excruciating pain and still push at the end of it all. In 16 hours, I had only reached 6 centimeters and it didn't look like things were going to pick up any time soon. Feeling defeated and weak, I begged for the epidural.
My husband was there to remind me that I had come this far; I had grown a baby over 9 months to this point where we were ready to bring him into the world. Asking for help did not make me weak; no one was thinking less of me. No one was judging me. No one was expecting me to be a hero. It was important for me to be healthy and ready to deliver our son and not compromise that by wearing myself out.
After the epidural, I was able to relax and even sleep for an hour or so; during that time, I went from 6cm to 9cm. The doctor came in and checked on me around 4:45pm, noted that I was 9 cm and that he would come back in an hour to check again. After he left, the nurse helped me get readjusted and more comfortable in bed at which point I felt the baby move down and I told my husband that there was no way we had an hour - this baby was coming now! He called the nurse back in and she nonchalantly entered my room and checked me, the doubt in her voice apparent that the baby was in fact coming. However, once she checked me, she realized that the baby's head was almost presented and all of sudden there was a mad rush of people into our room. Four more nurses came in, two to clean the baby, one to take pictures and another to assist. They put up the stirrups and the doctor came in and asked me to push.
With just one contraction, I was able to push the head out. Surprised that the baby was coming as quickly as he was, there was a scramble to ready the room even further. The doctor invited my husband to help catch the baby, I was told to grab my legs, hold my breath and push with the next contraction. In just seconds, the room was filled with the joyful sound of our baby boy squealing and crying. He was placed on my chest and it was love and awe at first sight. I was moved to tears and overwhelmed with a flood of emotions; I had never held anything more beautiful or heard anything more melodious than this baby. My husband was at my side and we couldn't stop smiling at each other. Our baby boy was finally here.
In retrospect thinking back on all of this, I realize that giving birth is far less glamorous than you expect, and I wasn't expecting glamor at all. It is a humbling experience that teaches you to rely on the help of others. You are exposed and vulnerable to complete strangers in whom you devote your complete trust. My love and appreciation for my husband has grown more than I thought possible; he was there for it all, helping me breath through contractions, keeping me calm, holding my hand, helping me to and from the bathroom, walking with me for hours down the short halls and now as we adjust to having our baby at home, he is eager to offer to help change diapers and sooth the baby to sleep since I'm breastfeeding and waiting for my pump to arrive. We are a team and a good one at that and I love him for it all.
Needless to say, my labor did not go as planned, but that may as well be the definition of labor. But in the end, we have a healthy, happy baby boy and a stronger bond now than we did before. The days ahead are not expected to be easy, but together, we will enjoy them one at a time.
