This post is part of an editorial series, “The Stork Stories,” brought to you by the Fort Worth Moms Blog. We hope these pieces provide you with helpful information, encouragement, and answers as you prepare for baby’s arrival.
There I was. One million months pregnant. Waddling into my OB/GYN’s office. Sobbing. Apologizing for being so emotional.
Begging Praying that God would soften my cervix. (I later apologized for praying something so personal.) And then my sweet, heavenly, angelic, OB/GYN whispered a word that both thrilled and terrified me . . . Induction.
My heart leapt at the thought of finally meeting my son. Ending the months of aches, pains, and stretch marks. (Little did I know that breastfeeding would add it’s own set of stripes to my body . . . ahem.) I was also unsure of what induction would mean for me. It was not on my birth plan that I had so neatly printed out and made copies for all who might assist me during my labor and delivery.
Here’s the deal, though, y’all. I had been through the ringer the final weeks of my pregnancy. I had prodromal labor that landed me in the hospital THREE TIMES, with painful contractions that were coming in every two-to-three minutes. After being sent home because I was not in active labor, I would sleep the entire next day due to physical and emotional exhaustion. I say all of this not to be pitiful and retroactively ask for compassion, but to say that even in all of this, I loved it.
Let’s take a look at pregnant me about 30 minutes after I was given the first portion of induction medicine. Contractions were rolling in one after the other, about a minute apart. After a few hours of this, the nurse came to check my progress and said, “You are still only one cm dilated.” I may have yelled. I definitely cried. I could not believe that all the pain and contractions had led me to NO progress at all. After about seven hours of this, I plead for an epidural. My body was giving out. Shortly after the biggest needle in the world was put into my back, I was able to relax and actually rest a few hours. Again, none of this was my “plan” for birth, I was ready for it to end, but I was loving this experience.
Now, I’ll fast forward to hour 16 of labor. I was progressing slowly. Way, way, wayyyyy slow. My rockstar nurses moved into action. They began twisting me, turning me, making me straddle a peanut-exercise ball to get my baby moving on out. My nurses were the very best. I have tried to find them on Facebook, stalk them, and make them be my friend, but I have yet to succeed. FIVE hours later, I began to feel some pain in my hips. I giddily called the nurse in to let her know that mama needed more epidural juice. She decided to check me while in the room and let out a gasp of surprise, “You are ready to push.”
I panicked. “What?!?” I cried. “But it’s been going so slowly . . . surely I have more time to . . . I don’t know! Are you sure it’s time to push?!” I was freaked out. Sweating. Shaking. I was suddenly paralyzed by more than the epidural. Fear sank in and I decided I was just going to keep the baby inside. I did not love birth anymore.
My husband turned on music, we prayed, and I got put up in some fancy-smancy equipment to push. I hate to sound cliche, but all of a sudden, I was ready. My body relaxed. I pushed and realized that my body was made for this. I stopped sweating. The shakes were gone. I was completely at peace and entirely empowered to do this birthing business. I suddenly felt as though I could conquer the world. (Anyone in here feel like busting out a Beyonce song right now?)
I pushed five times, and then, my baby boy was on my chest. He was screaming and messy, but I didn’t care about anything other than the fact that he was here. It was over. My husband cut the cord and the doctors began to stitch me up. (If you ever tear during delivery, do yourself a favor and don’t google that when you get home . . . trust me.)
It Was Epic
As soon as it was over, I missed it. I was thrilled to have my son with me now, but I missed carrying him inside me. I missed his little kicks. I missed the stupid prodromal labor that drove me to insanity for weeks. I missed pushing during delivery. I loved my birth. My long, painful, not-like-I-planned-it birth. My epidural birth. My peanut ball birth. My induction birth. My son’s birth. I would go back a thousand times to birth him again. It was beautiful, terrifying, and powerful. Labor, and delivery, is a beast that likes to do whatever it pleases and doesn’t let you in on the plan until it’s time. Though my birth went nothing like I thought, I loved it. I felt like my body had been waiting 26 years to do it. It was painful, exhausting, and scary, but I wouldn’t trade a second of it. I loved giving birth.
Surely I’m not the only one. What did you love about giving birth?
The Fort Worth Moms Blog is hosting its next event just for you! Bloom, happening May 20, 2017 from 2:00 – 5:00 p.m. at Cook Children’s Medical Center, is an event for expectant moms and moms who are currently parenting children two years and under. (Foster and adoptive moms are welcome too!) The afternoon will focus on information, resources, products, and more that target the pregnancy and delivery stage of parenting through the first two years. This event, held in partnership with Cook Children’s Health Care System, will provide a few hours of pampering, light snacks, educational resources, giveaways and swag, shopping, and connecting moms and families with relevant local resources for this season of life. For information, tickets, and more click HERE!