Audric's Birth Story

WARNING: This is long.  Lots of people have asked what I did for 35 hours of labor, so I wrote it all down – both for my own processing, for the baby book, and to share with those who care to read!


I wanted a natural birth.  I wanted a home birth, like this one (http://vimeo.com/22765005) but my mom and husband were opposed - and today I'm glad they were.  I imagined something serene and beautiful.  And I suppose, in the end, it sort of was, but the journey sure wasn't!

At 2 am on Wednesday, June 15th, I woke for my tri-nightly pee run.  But when I returned to bed, I had a feeling that I hadn’t felt before.  I was uncomfortable, but not in dire pain.  I thought, “Maybe that was a contraction.” Hum.  A few minutes later, I felt it again, confirming that it probably was.  It felt like someone was pulling on a rope between my hips, but it came and went; so, I got out my handy iPhone app to count the contractions.  I got up and walked around a bit to see if it would go away, but every 5-7 minutes, the pain returned.  I lay there for an hour and a half, checking to see if this was the real deal or not.  My husband and I had discussed the fact that I really wanted to labor at home for as long as possible, so I figured there was no hurry to wake him.  But, at 3:30 am, I wanted someone to join me in my journey, so I woke him up!  He was excited, but didn’t start running around like dads in movies.  At 4:30, we got up and he made some coffee and we continued counting.  At 5 am, we called my mom to tell her to not go to work, because we figured we were in the real deal, but at this point, contractions were more irregular, so stay tuned.

We went for a walk about 7 am, but things didn’t speed up.  We had been told that if I couldn’t walk through contractions and a walk increased them, I was in real labor.  But after our walk, contractions were at 10 minutes apart and they didn’t last long.  We called mom at 8 to tell her we were unsure of what to do.  Fortunately, I had a doctor’s appointment at 10:30.  Hopefully, we thought, she’d tell us we were 8 cm dilated and could go to the hospital.  This funky pattern continued until we left for the doctors at 10 am – car packed and ready for a hospital admission.

But by the time we got to the doctor, my contractions had stopped.  I was so frustrated.  She said I was 3 cm – up from 1 cm the week before – and in a good place.  She said the same thing had happened to her – that labor stalled out and then started again 24 hours later.  We discussed an induction for the following week – just in case – but she didn’t think we’d need it.  I tried not to cry as we headed back to the car, so disappointed to be returning home.  Then, in the car, I had another contraction.  We got home and I ate some leftover pizza (since I hadn’t eaten much other than a cereal bar all day) and I lay down for a nap.  Forty-five minutes later, I woke up to a contraction.  “Big deal,” I thought.  Forty-five minutes later, another.  I was frustrated now because I couldn’t sleep through these pains, but apparently they weren’t going to spell “Baby” at the end either.  So I got up and poked around our house.  Twelve minutes later, another contraction.  Then they came seven minutes apart – and lasted a good minute.  They seemed more consistent now.  Within a few hours, we were back up to 5-6 minutes apart.  So I called my mom, who’d been waiting expectantly with my sister all day.  At 5 pm, she predicted we’d be at the hospital by 6 pm.  I didn’t want to get to the hospital too early – who wants to hang out in a sterile room for hours? – but I didn’t want to have the baby in the car either.  I figured we were somewhere in between.  Mom reminded me that having contractions belted into a car would be very uncomfortable, so she encouraged us to not wait too long.  After a few laps around our neighborhood pool- trying to keep things moving - we called my husband’s parents, made some soup and sandwiches, and repacked the car.  At this point, contractions were definitely 5 minutes apart, sometimes less than that.  I hoped and prayed this would be a short ordeal.

I was so emotional when we arrived at the hospital.  A lady saw us get out of the car and said “Good Luck!” and it was all I could do to keep it together.  We got a room and checked in – all of which is sort of a blur – and they hooked me up to a monitor.  The nurse, Donna, told me that they would monitor me for an hour to see if I was progressing and, if I was, they would let me stay.  But if things didn’t seem to be going anywhere, she’d encourage me to go home and rest there.  After an hour, she came back, checked me and said I was probably at a 4.  She’d seen enough on the monitors though to determine that I was in labor and she thought I should stay.  I was discouraged – I’d been in labor now for HOURS and only progressed 1 cm.  Donna said that most women moved 1 cm an hour after 5 cm, so I was on a good pace to have the baby during the night. 

At this point, around 8:30 pm, my mom arrived.  Donna let me off the monitor for an hour, so I could wander around and find some comfortable laboring positions.  But they did have to start an IV – which I didn’t like, but understood that it was a precautionary measure.  The IV stand moved, so I could still use the bathroom and walk the halls if I wanted to.  After the second hour – which was about 9:30 – she had to put me back on the monitor.  My cousin had told me that I couldn’t move around once this happened, but Donna understood that if I wanted to do this without any pain medicine that I would have to keep moving.  They got out a birthing ball for me, and my husband sat my by side for another hour as I bounced through contractions. 

At 10:30, Donna returned to check me again.  I didn’t enjoy this process at all, but I needed some encouragement.  I needed to know that this pain was doing something.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.  I hadn’t made any progress.  Donna suggested that I get off the ball and try something else.  So, she took me off the monitor and instructed us to walk a few laps around the halls.  This was so hard – painful and awkward.  After two laps we returned to the room, and I found myself on all fours on the bed.  Another nurse came in to check the baby’s heart monitor – see, this baby likes to MOVE a ton (even outside the uterus!).  Even if I had been staying in one place, the baby kept looking like it’s heart had stopped.  Of course, this kid was very strong and the heart rate, when they could find it, didn’t change.  When Donna saw me oddly sitting in the bed, she asked “Are you comfortable?” and I said “No.” She then rearranged me so that one half of the bed was lower which meant I could squat more comfortably. 

For the next few hours, I moved back and forth between squatting, bouncing on the ball and dancing – sometimes with my husband.  Donna checked me again at 12 am and I was barely a 5. The next several hours were a blur.  I was breathing through contractions – trying to stay relaxed.  We’d put together a music mix and that helped.  My mom was very encouraging.  My husband was doing everything right – massages, encouraging words, brining sips of water to me, helping me pee (not as easy as you’d think with an IV and monitors attached!  Around 3 am, I was having a contraction and looked around – my husband looked (though he denies it) asleep and my mom was crashed on the couch and I was in pain!  I laughed and said “Nice coaching, guys!”  They were exhausted.  At this point, I’d been up for nearly 24 hours and hadn’t eaten much.  When Donna wanted to check me at 3:30, I was hopeful that we’d moved past 6 cm.  While Donna was checking me, I had a contraction (can you say OUCH!), which caused my water to break.  She had said she could feel it during her last exam and we’d hoped it would have broken earlier.  Although it had hurt, she did tell me I was 6 cm, but that generally things moved faster after one’s water was broken (although, I was beginning to see a pattern – that I wasn’t “typical”.)  I’d been at the hospital 8 hours and had moved 2 cm.  I was about at my limit.  My back was hurting so badly…the pain was getting stronger and changing.  Donna said she’d come back in an hour and we’d probably see more progress. 

So, at 4:30 we were hopeful.  When Donna said “Still a 6” I lost it.  I was so tired and knew that I still had 4 cm to go.  At this rate, it would be the next evening before baby arrived.  I felt myself giving up.  How was I going to muster the energy?  I asked Donna what I should do – mostly because she’d been so encouraging of my doing things without drugs.  She told me my uterus was getting tired and exhaustion wouldn’t be good for delivering a baby.  She said an epidural would help me get some rest.  My mom and husband knew I didn’t want one, but were tired for me – and kept saying no one would judge me if I needed help.  So, I gave in. 

At 5 am, Dr. Anesthesiologist came in.  We signed something, I sat up, and just as I was having a contraction, that kind gentleman stuck a needle in my spine.  THE. WORST. PAIN. EVER.  Oh, and he missed.  The medicine only went down one leg, so he reset it.  My mom was crying watching the misery.  It was awful.  The nurse was pressing on my shoulders telling me to relax.  My husband was holding my hands. Oh – and during all of this Donna got a call that Dr. Anesthesiologist was needed next door for a woman who was crashing and needed a C- Section.  Too much commotion.  But as the medicine settled in, I could rest.  So could my mom and husband.  And so, for the next hour or so, we did.  I couldn’t sleep – because and epidural doesn’t numb the pain completely – but I didn’t have to concentrate and breathe.  My husband got a nap in, my mom a short doze, and when the nurses changed shifts, the sun was coming up.  I think Donna checked me one more time before she left at 7 and I was at a 7.  Big Whoop. 

The new nurses came in and told – more like ordered me -- to sleep.  Why?  Because I had 2-3 hours of pushing ahead of me and I needed to have the energy to do so.  “WHAT?!”  I thought.  I don’t remember having been told that in our birthing class.  I tried not to lose it again.  My dad and sister brought everyone coffee and breakfast (except me, of course), and my pain was getting worse.  When the nurses returned around 8:30, I told them I was in a lot of pain.  “Well, let’s check you – maybe you’re ready to push.”  Everyone cleared out – and sure enough, I was at 10 cm.  “Let’s push!”  I wasn’t prepared for that.  I pushed twice – and they pretty much told me I wasn’t doing it right.  Sorry – but who knows how to push a baby out on their first try?

They then told me they were going to let me “labor down” which pretty much meant they wouldn’t ask me to push again until I really felt like I needed to.  At about 10 am, they returned, hopeful that I was ready to push.  But the pain had gotten worse, so they called in Dr. Anesthesiologist to give me a “bolis.”  I don’t know what that means, but it felt like an “upper.”  I had already pushed the pump button, but it didn’t help – but the bolis did relieve some of the pain.  We started pushing.  I say “we” because it was definitely a team effort.  One person would hold each of my legs and someone else pushed on the area where I was supposed to be putting pressure – hard to figure out when you’re supposed to be numb!  Fortunately for me, my contractions were still 3-5 minutes apart, so I did get a break between pushes.  The next two hours were exhausting, but I did make progress with each “almost! Good job! That’s it!” from the nurses and my husband.  They could see the top of the baby’s head and would demonstrate what I was doing with each push – he was getting closer and closer.

Still, after 30 minutes or so, the nurse kindly reminded me that I wasn’t out of the woods yet: if I didn’t push well, I still might need a C-Section.  Mean?  Maybe.  Motivating?  Definitely.  I didn’t care what other secretions came out of me at that point.  There was no way I was going to have 30+ hours of labor under my belt  and still get cut open.  So we pushed from the sides.  We pushed while I was pulling on these handles.  We pushed from my back. (Have you ever tried to poop while lying down?  Not so easy.)  I wanted to stand up so badly, but with the epidural, I couldn’t.  This kid was going to come out somehow.

I was so thirsty while I was pushing – my lips were cracking and I felt like I could drink a gallon of water.  So I sipped between every contraction. Around 11:45 the nurse was convinced that I was close enough that we should call the doctor.  Fortunately, she was just across the street and she knew that I was in labor.  I kept pushing while we waited for her to arrive – which meant the baby’s head was nearly out!  Around 11:55, the nurse told me to stop pushing – she didn’t want to deliver the baby.  I asked for a popsicle – I could feel my blood sugar dropping and was starving after not eating for so long.  And we waited.  For what seemed like forever (since I have a head in my crotch and a nurse holding my knees together.)

Finally, my doctor arrived about 12:25 pm.  I can’t believe how quickly things progressed after that.  She got in her scrubs, told me what to expect, told me how swollen I was and then we waited for a contraction.  After two pushes, baby’s head came out.  They suctioned his nose and mouth.  Then, with one last push, he kicked his way out (seriously – I felt his feet holding on to my ribs.)  And with that, the doctor laid Audric Alan Naumann on my chest.  All 8 pounds, 8 ounces of him.  That was a LARGE baby.  I was crying and laughing and grimacing in pain all at the same time.  It was hugely emotional.  My husband quietly said “It’s a boy.”  Then he turned to my mom and said “It’s a boy.”  The doctor then asked, “So Dad, what is it?”  “It’s a boy!”  

My mom caught the last few minutes of it all on video and I cry every time I watch it.  Part of my emotion was exhaustion, part overwhelming emotion, part joy.  I was just so glad to be holding my little man in my arms and not in my belly anymore!

It’s been quite a recovery and our birth story is nothing like I imagined, but I am so glad to have Audric in our arms.  The pain will go away, but he’s here to stay!