Marlowe's birth started around 4 am on March 17th 2007 when I went to bed having had what I thought might be early contractions for a few hours. I woke back up at 8 am, with contractions continuing through a shower and breakfast. I sent Doug back to bed, and went shopping with my mom and Cora. The contractions strengthened and the timing shortened during the trip, and by the time we returned home around 11 am, Doug and I started packing up for our trip in to Oak Park.
We left Cora with her Nana (she gave us a hearty, "BYE!") and headed out. Through the drive the contractions strengthened more (we were still calling them "surges" as per the birth prep class at that point). We were having a good conversation, and I stopped and breathed deeply through a relaxation exercise while rubbing one of the beads from my birthing necklace during surges. We checked into the hotel around 1:15pm, just as I was beginning to need more active management.
We called my doula, Lisa, who had a half hour drive, so I decided to use the big hotel tub for a while before she arrived to help me relax and get in a good laboring mindset. I thought when reserving the room that I would love having the massage jets from the tub, but when I tried them during a surge they were physically overwhelming and I turned them off immediately.
After a half hour or so my hips were sore from the tub, so I moved out to the bedroom. I sat on the ball and leaned on the bed. Around that time my lower back started hurting terribly with contractions, so Doug started doing counterpressure and guiding me through some progressive relaxations. My doula arrived soon after (around 3pm?), and brought her trainee.
She judged me as being well into active labor, and was guessing 4-5 cm dilation. I was at the point of not having my eyes open much. I was doing every mental relaxation technique I could remember, and Doug was doing a FANTASTIC job of reminding me to keep my shoulders down, relax my forehead, keep my jaw open, and breathe very deeply. My doula put some hot bags on my lower belly and lower back, which felt so great that she suggested I move back to the shower, but sit on the ball there.
Thus commenced the world's longest hot shower, thanks to the hotel's never-ending water heater. After 2 hours in the shower, my doula convinced me to get up and walk around the room a bit. I got halfway across the room, and could only be convinced to go farther with a promise that I could get back in the shower if I touched the opposite wall.
During contractions at that point I was sagging/hanging from poor Doug's neck, and making long low sounds. They started out as humming, started changing into low groans, and by the time I was back in the shower were more like low moos. By 6 pm I was completely lost in the contractions, nothing else existed. I was trying to avoid any pressure during contractions, so I'd half-slide off the birth ball and suspend myself by the sides of the tub.
I was starting to arch back and grunt during contractions, and could feel my body trying to bear down. I knew it couldn't be time yet, and was trying to fight the urge to help it along. By 7 my doulas and Doug were putting a pair of pants and a shirt on me. They attempted to get shoes on me, but I guess I refused outright.
The journey from room to car is probably an immediate legend at that hotel, as the mooing woman had 4 contractions on the way to the elevator, another 2 on the way to the lobby (it's gotta echo . . .), and an eternity of contractive walking from elevator to car. During that time I was dangling heavily from Doug's neck during each contraction, breathing as deeply as I could, and vocalizing any way I could (ie LOUDLY). The hotel has a spiffy restaurant off the lobby, and the poor waitstaff was trying to get past us in the hallways.
We finally made it to the doors, and I had a gush of something (midwife later confirmed it as an outer bag leak) just as we got into the car. I tried to sit down in the car, and immediately stiffened and screamed, "NO! NO! I DON'T LIKE THE CAR I CAN'T DO THE CAR I CAN'T SIT! NO!" Poor Doug tried to smoothly navigate 10 blocks of suburban traffic while avoiding being head-butted as I writhed trying to find a way to not be sitting down, and avoiding having his shoulder bitten as I failed. By the time we got to the hospital entrance, my teeth were chattering and I was shaking uncontrollably.
We pulled up to the emergency room entrance, and I started to swing my legs out of the car. The world's most incompetent ER security officer came to the car asking what was wrong and if I could walk. Doug said, "What do YOU think, genius? LOOK at her! Now get us a chair!" The guy did, then spent precious painful moments trying to finagle the foot pedals - I yelled at him, "I'm going to have this baby on your HEAD if you don't MOVE!" He started pushing me inside, then turned and told Doug to go park the car. Doug was terrified of what might happen to me if I were triaged in the ER (he's heard enough of the VBAC struggle stories), and refused to leave me. Much consternation and confrontation ensued, with me arching my back over the back of the wheelchair with every contraction, screeching, "My body is PUSHING with every contraction you IDIOTS, get me to my midwife NOW and leave my husband alone!!!!"
At that my doulas came screeching around the corner from the parking garage at top speed. My doula calmed the Doug situation, the assistant went to park our car, and Doug, doula and I went upstairs. I have a vague memory of repeating to Doug several times on the way, "if there's ever a next time, it's going to be a damned homebirth." I had my eyes closed and didn't see a single face of the people addressing me, but told every warm body near me, "Get me in a room! Skip the damn belt! I know I'm in labor!" My doula managed the triage nurse wonderfully ("I've been at over 100 births, and I'm certain she's at least 7-8 centimeters; we've been checking the baby on the Doppler and feeling good movements, her midwife's on the way"). They did a very cursory internal (no prolapsed cord, bag intact, late active-stage dilation) and got me to the ABC room. My midwife on call (Julie) came in, gave me a hug, got the deep tub warmed up, and said that I was just shy of 8cm but having great transitional contractions.
Julie hooked up the external fetal monitor to check the baby's heartrate, but didn't have me get a heplock (IV) or any other tethers that were supposed to be requirements for VBAC. The ER confrontation had me very wound up, and it took a good 45 minutes or more in the tub to start feeling calmer. Unfortunately, that very calmness was starting to pull me back out of the good transitional contractions that had been so effective earlier.
My midwife and doula decided that I should walk across the room and spend some more time on a birth ball under the shower, but instead of getting the water against my back, I needed to have it against my chest to help strengthen contractions (nipple stimulation).
I couldn't get my temperature regulated in the shower, and was constantly moaning, "TOO COLD!" "TOO HOT!" wanting the water temperature changed. Between the steam and the splash-off from the shower, it was hard for my attendants to stay next to me for long. Doug hovered at the doorway, continuing to encourage me and remind me of relaxation points. I can't say that any techniques were helpful by then, but his presence and calm were irreplaceable.
After a short while in the shower, I was back to arching and grunting and trying not to push. My teeth were chattering and I was shaking uncontrollably again. I had absolutely no sense of there being anything in the world outside of me and my pain - I heard people talking in the room, and could understand intellectually what they were saying but it made no impression on me. All I could say was, "I'm so tired." The reassurances of, "we're close to having baby here" meant nothing to me, I barely remembered that there was a baby involved in the process at all.
An hour or so later, my midwife wanted to check again to see if I could stop fighting that pushing urge, so I needed to get out of the shower. I hated moving. I wanted to find one position that hurt less than the others and never have to move again. By then, though, there was no such thing. Doug continued to try to keep me as grounded as he could, but there wasn't much left for him to do but hold me and try to keep me going.
It was about 10:45. The check showed that I was still about 8cm. While we were all in agreement that it wasn't a worrisome thing for labor to hold at that point for a while, it had already been there for at least 3 hours, and the anterior part of my cervix was starting to swell a bit. I was terrified that it would continue to swell, and that I would end up in surgery after all.
We tried having me lay on the bed, but the supine contractions were unbearable to the point of screeching. We tried having me kneel on the bed over a beanbag, but the back pain became intolerable. We tried having me squat a bit and rock my hips, sit on a ball leaning on the bed . . . The only thing I could tolerate without flailing was to hang from the neck of whoever was nearby.
Half an hour later, I was losing my ability to hold back on the pushing, but I still hadn't dilated any further, and the cervix was continuing to swell somewhat. My midwife suggested that we consider breaking my bag, as the baby's position was ideal otherwise. I was terrified of intensified labor that might go on for hours more. We discussed the options. My doula Lisa was absolutely fantastic. She knew from our prenatal visits that I had wanted to avoid an epidural, and did everything in her power to dissuade me, including lying to me (as I'd asked her to) about not having a room available. Doug pulled out all of his cards as well, and we had a long heart-to-heart about potential problems and the grief I'd felt over Cora's birthday. I talked more with my midwife, though, and decided to have a light epidural done, wait a bit to see if the cervix could recover, then to have the bag broken.
That decision meant that I could no longer stay in the Alternative Birthing Center, so we had to move to a regular birthing room down the hall. It was another LONG LONG walk down the hall dangling from someone (Lisa?). When we got to the birthing room, they asked me to use the toilet. Remembering how sitting flat in the car had felt I refused, saying I would pee on a chux pad but there was no way I would sit on a toilet.
The anesthesiologist had a good conversation with me (as much as such a thing was possible at that point in labor) about the epidural being "late and light" and being on a pump that Julie would control. Dealing with contractions at that level while sitting and remaining immobile was an incredible feat, but he was fast and effective, and Lisa's shoulders have hopefully since recovered from having my fingernails dug into them. Once it was in place, I had a fast release from the level of desperate exhaustion I'd hit. I could still feel the contractions fully, but more as they had been when we first arrived at the hotel. Moreover, I had full muscle control over legs and pelvis.
My midwife was wonderful, staying unruffled by a few decelerations as we adjusted (nothing like the panic over Cora's), and not fretting about my slightly elevated temperature (to the point of telling the nurse that there was a technical error and that her recheck had been okay). She waited half an hour before putting in a catheter, and used a very tiny amount of pitocin (started at "1" never raised to "2") to counteract the back position and epidural. When Doug and the doulas ordered pizza at 1:30, she even encouraged me to eat something (never before has a 2am mozzarella stick been better).
She checked me at 2:20 and judged us ready to go - dilated to 10 and at 0 station. She had already turned off the epidural pump, and when the pushing urge came back in fully at 2:30 we were off. I stayed on the bed initially out of comfort, and we planned to have me move to squatting or kneeling if the position seemed ineffective. Julie directed my first push, showing me with her fingers where to "aim", but the pushing urge was strong enough to keep me going from there and the direction backed off to encouragement and reminders. It felt SO good to finally not be fighting that urge!
Our birthing class had said to not "push" but to "breathe down" . . . my body wasn't having any of that; I pushed hard. It lasted about 20 minutes, but it seemed to fly. I just couldn't believe that I had finally gotten to that point, and was going to be able to birth my baby.
I got to touch her squishy head around 3am, and at 3:08am, Marlowe was born. I pulled her up onto my chest, and couldn't stop laughing and crying for another 30 minutes. I was astounded that we had done it, she was here, and that she was with me. She nursed well right away, and stayed on my chest through the repair of a few mostly-first-degree tears and arrival of the placenta (which I hardly noticed). We let the cord finish doing its job, and had Lisa cut it. Julie gave me a tour of our placenta, which was in great shape with a few tiny calcifications expected at 40w6d.
Marlowe stayed with me, without having been held by another person, without having even been cleaned up, until I was ready to get rid of the IV and take a quick shower. Then she went to the nursery with Doug to be weighed and measured. Her temperature was fluctuating a bit too heavily then, so she was observed for about 40 minutes, while I dozed a bit. We moved into our little postpartum room and dozed a bit more off and on until the first visitors (Nana, Boppa and Cora) came around 9am. I couldn't believe that I was able to get out of bed without excruciating pain, and actually walk on my own power.
Marlowe's birth was the most intense experience of my life, and emotionally / mentally healing from the grief I'd felt over missing Cora's first hour+ of life. I felt validated that my body wasn't broken and that I was whole. I had been so scared the weeks leading up to her birth about having two children. Marlowe's birth brought me into a larger sense of motherhood.
