Those forces came together this time, and Martin Thomas Lloyd was born on March 3, 2012, 10:18 am, at 7 pounds 1 oz, and 19 3/4 inches, an unmedicated vaginal birth after cesarean.
I got to have my moment of holding my newborn seconds after he entered into this world. I looked in his eyes before they'd been medicated, and welcomed him on my skin. It was all I'd hoped it would be.
I started having contractions the Saturday before Martin's birth. His due date was February 22, and even though I was just a few days past my due date, I was beginning to worry that I'd lose my opportunity to labor. On that Saturday, contractions were coming regularly at 4 minutes for a good 5 hours, but they were mild and never picked up. I was devastated and then proceeded to mope for days.
My body continued to go into prodromal labor (false labor as they say) every night for six more days. It was this serious mental trip where every night, I thought it was going to be THE night, and every morning, I woke up disappointed. At my 41 week appointment, I had to talk about plans for a scheduled cesarean and I began to accept that it might be a reality. That day, I was almost 3 cm and 80% effaced, and my amazing doctor assured me that my body was fully ready. We had to make a contingency plan, but that he believed I'd go into labor any day. He joked that Friday night would be the way to go, so he could deliver me on Saturday morning when he was on call. Apparently my desire to have him deliver my baby was nature's best induction method. Lord knows I tried everything else under the sun.
Friday night, the contractions felt different. They were stronger, more productive. I went to bed, and got really uncomfortable at around 1. At 1:30, I felt a pop (it was a totally alien feeling) and my waters broke. It was time. I was so giddy with excitement.
Kyle, my husband and I, had a nervous shuffling of child care arrangements. My parents live about an hour and 45 minutes away. My contractions were coming every minute and a half to two minutes, and I didn't feel like we could wait. Luckily, one of my neighbors happened to be up when I called around. She came over and we headed out, Molly Jane secured. The contractions slowed down some, thank goodness, and were every 3 minutes when we arrived.
The nurse asked me my plan for pain management after they'd confirmed I was in labor. She told me that no one "ever got an Oscar" for pain tolerance and that the anesthesiologist would be available if I changed my mind. The doctor on call gave me a run down of possible VBAC complications again and gave me one last chance to change my mind, should I wanted surgery. But I had desire. I had preparation. I could do this.
Kyle stepped up to the plate right away. He'd read the Birth Partner in the weeks prior (the first bound book I've ever seen him read our entire relationship) and started applying techniques he'd learned. We found a comfortable position and a rhythm and got to it. The nurse came in and reminded me that I could have an epidural every 2 hours or so.
But I was okay. I could do this. The contractions rolled in and out, and I pictured the sun setting over the ocean. That day, my internet mom forum, filled with the 32 most amazing women in my life, had a photo posting theme of "my happy place." Ligia had posted a photo from a vacation, and every contraction, I went to that beach. I thought about the energy of the ocean, of tides, of the rising sun, of eternity... of this ancient dance that my husband and I were wordlessly experiencing.
Ligia's Happy Place in San Diego
Active labor passed in a slow fog. I looked up to the clock and was shocked to discover that it was already 8 am. A shift change happened, and we met our new nurse. She was excited that I was attempting a VBAC and seemed just on my side. I had support.
I had my first cervical check, and I was 7 cm and fully effaced. The resident told me that she'd let Dr. Gerhart know that I was getting close and he'd be in shortly.
Well. They leave, and about 2 minutes later, I have the contraction of all contractions. It was about three back to back, and I felt something just completely change in my body. Where I'd been sort of moaning quietly with each contraction, I howled like an animal. I couldn't have NOT made that noise.
The nurse and the resident race in. I tell them I can't do it... that I need an epidural. The nurse tells me that she suspects I just flew from 7 cms to complete and it may be time to push very shortly, and then the pain will be different. She encourages me to hang on, but I tell her to call anesthesia anyway.
And now: luck. Anesthesia is in an emergency caesarian. They will be another 1/2 hour. The resident checks me, and I'm a whopping 9 cm and fully effaced.
Two more contractions. I feel his head moving down. There is no comfortable position. There is no coping. I sort of leave my body and exist somewhere else. I scream, I have to push!
Dr. Gerhart races in, along with the nurse, the resident, and an OB intern who looks about 16. Pediatrics comes in. Holy shit, this is happening, like now. I don't want to push!! I'm scared!!
Dr. Gerhart suggests we set the bed up like a chair and I start pushing in a squat, facing the back. It takes a couple of tries to focus my energy. Then, I push so hard that I can't hear anything, and they say that I've got it down. The nurse keeps saying words of encouragement while she helps support me in the position. Kyle has no idea what to do with himself at this point -- i don't blame him. I didn't know what to do with myself either.
The doctor then sets up a bar at the end of the bed and tells me to use that to push off instead. It doesn't feel stable and I don't like it, but in one push, I feel burning. I reach down and touch my baby's head.
Another push. The doctor reaches for scissors, but I don't feel anything. He tells me, one more push and you meet your son. And in one great push, he was here.
They help me sit back and place him on my chest. He is purple and bloody and his eyes dart around and he sees my face. It's mommy, I say. I'm so glad you're here. Nothing else exists.
Our Moment
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I delivered the placenta easily within a few minutes. Marty latched and nursed for a little while. I ended up needing a pretty extensive "repair," and it was lovely to hold him while the pediatrician attended to him and the doctors attended to me.
The episotomy was very minor, and I had a 2nd degree lateral tear. Most of the repair was internal. They were stitching me up for about an hour after his birth. It hasn't been the easiest couple of days in terms of recovery, but it's worlds better than surgery.
Kyle cuts the umbilical cord with my amazing doctor.
While I was making my way out of Labor and Delivery and into the postpartum unit, I had a spell of being very faint. As I was trying to come to, I was talking to my nurse, Kirsten, making small talk to try to get my mind off of passing out. She told me that she was in school to be a midwife and she wanted to work at a birth center one day. She will be fantastic, I'm sure. But that little fact just showed me how my VBAC was meant to be.
Desire, preparation, support, and luck. Welcome to the spinning world, little Marty. We are so glad you're here.
