DANIEL KEITH'S BIRTH
When my husband, Keith , and I found out we were expecting our first child we were ecstatic. I was a little overwhelmed, though. I was a full-time student finishing up my music degree while working 30 or more hours a week at our church day care. Needless to say I was very busy. I was also concerned about possible health risks we might encounter working at a day care.
I decided on seeing a local practice of Certified Nurse Midwives. I thought that since they were not doctors that I would have a less medicalized birth. On my first visit, I asked about any dangers concerning my work place. I was assured that I would be fine. I continued working there through my eighth month of pregnancy. I found out before being discharged from the hospital that I had no rubella antibodies and was therefore administered a rubella vaccine. (Rubella, also known as German Measles, is a mild childhood illness. However, if a pregnant mother contracts the disease it can cause major birth defects.) I have since learned that most cases of rubella reported in the U.S. are caused by the vaccine itself. I was dealing with freshly vaccinated children everyday and could have caught the disease from them.
On February 28, 1996, two days after my EDD, I started having what felt like menstrual cramps accompanied by pain in my lower back. This lasted all day. That evening, Keith and I made the drive into town to attend church. On the way, I started having regular mild contractions. They got a little stronger during the service, so before we made the long drive home (at the time we lived a ways from the hospital), we placed a phone call to the CNM on call. I was actually anxious to have the baby that day for 2 reasons: 1) I didn't want a leap year baby, and 2) I knew that a particular CNM from the practice would be on call the next day. We did not get along well, and I didn't want her to attend my birth.
We were told to come into the hospital and they would check me out. We arrived around 9 pm. I was determined to be at 1 cm and only about 50 % effaced. So, I did laps around the hospital for about 2 hours. I did lose my mucus plug, but there was no change in dilation. So they pumped me full of drugs to help me rest and sent me home.
The drugs did help me sleep, but by early morning the contractions were waking me from my drugged stupor and I had to moan through them. After each contraction, I would helplessly fall back to sleep. It was like I was caught in a dream that I just couldn't seem to wake from no matter how hard I tried. Around 7 am, after I vomited all over the bathroom, my husband called our CNM and we returned to the hospital.
Upon arrival at the hospital, it was announced that I was now at 3 cm and 75% effaced. At least by this point the drugs from the night before had worn off and I could cope with the contractions. I had an agreement with my CNM that I would not need the routine IV. I vomited again sometime before she arrived and a nurse insisted I had to have one because I would dehydrate without it. This was very traumatic for me since I am terrified of needles. To make matters worse, it took three tries and two different nurses to get the IV in correctly. By the end of that ordeal I was in tears.
Things went along pretty well after this. I was breathing and relaxing through contractions. My mother and father stopped in and sat with me for a while so Keith could get some lunch. I spent several hours sitting in the shower letting the warm water run over my lower back and abdomen. Unfortuanately, I couldn't get all the way into the shower because of that pesky IV.
At 1:30 pm, while Keith was at lunch, the CNM decided to rupture my membranes. The thought of this really scared my for some reason. Perhaps, it was the thought of a long hook being stuck up inside me to pop a very delicate sack in which my precious baby was floating. It might also have been because I just didn't like all of the invasive procedures (ie. the numerous internal exams, the IV, the monitors, etc.) She assured me that it wouldn't hurt and that it would help speed things along, so I reluctantly agreed. Keith arrived just after the procedure to find me soaked and crying my eyes out. I was 6 cm when my waters were broken.
Without the amniotic fluid as a cushion between my baby and uterus, the contractions immediately got severely intense. Within half an hour, I was begging for pain relief. They gave me some nubane to "help me cope." All they really did was make me sleep between contractions. I was still waking with each contraction, but everything was very surreal, like I was dreaming again. Iwas trying very hard to concentrate, to pay attention to what was going on around me, but it was no use.
At 4 pm, they administered more nubane, since the last dose was beginning to wear off. At this point an oxygen mask was strapped to my face because the baby's heart rate was not falling back between contractions. Of course this just seemed like part of the bad dream I kept trying to wake up from.
At 5 pm, I felt like bearing down a little at the end of each contraction. I was checked and it was determined that I was ready to push. I was moved from my side to my back and the bed was raised a bit. I had wanted to push in a squatting position but my legs were too weak from the drugs. So Keith took one leg and a nurse took the other, and they pulled them back so I could push through each contraction. I felt like a human Gumby. To tell you the truth I never really felt like pushing. There was no uncontrollable urge like everyone had told me about. The only reason I pushed was because everyone was telling me to.
I had been dealing with the same CNM from the night before. I felt lucky for arriving at the hospital early in the morning before the other woman, whom I did not get along with, was actually on call. However, she arrived to assist the other CNM right before I began to push. I did not want her there and told her so. I even told her not to touch me, which of course she totally disregarded. Of course transition is probably not the time to introduce a new person, especially one I did not like, into the whole birthing picture. She did several things against my wishes (like changing the position of the bed) and even managed to make Keith angry.
As Daniel started to crown, I could feel an incredible pain. I told the CNM, but she said to just push into the pain. I know now that it is better to not push as the baby's head crowns. This slows things down a bit and lessens the chance of tearing. I remember screaming, and being told not to make so much noise. I did end up with several minor tears, they called them skid marks, and had to have several stitches.
Daniel Keith finally slipped out of my body at 7:23 pm after two and a half hours of pushing (I never did get the urge to push). He was born posterior, and I was told that's why I had to ush for so long. My initial thought was one of relief that it was over. I felt very detached from the little wiggling crying bundle that they handed me. I didn't even attempt to nurse him right away like I had planned. I actually handed him over to the nurses 15 minutes later so they could do all the stuff they do to babies after they are born.
I delivered the placenta spontaneously about thirty minutes after Daniel was born.
I tried to nurse Daniel later that night but he just wouldn't suck. I think he was very groggy. I kept wondering why I felt so impartial toward him. Finally, in the wee hours of the next morning the hormones must have kicked in because I looked at him sleeping in the bassinet next to me and I fell in love. I had to pick him up and I tucked him in to sleep next to me instead of alone.
He was circumcised the next day without any anesthesia. He was extremely lethargic when they returned him to me an hour later. He still would not nurse. He would latch on, but wouldn't suck. Finally, one of the nurses tickled his foot and he started nursing like a pro from then on out.
We took him home 24 hours after his birth. It was really strange to have him in our house. It seemed to me like he belonged in the hospital, like he was their baby. It was a major adjustment to have him there. Nothing seemed like it was sanitary enough. I had a strange urge to take him back to the hospital. I think many women must go through feelings like that. I think it's because of the helplessness we feel during and after the births of our children. All of these routine procedures were done to my child, and I didn't even question them. After all, they are the experts.
Of course, we did eventually get settled as a new family, and Daniel and I bonded very well. But I can't help but feel that we both missed out on some very special bonding time during those first few hours of his life.
