I woke up on Saturday, August 31 sad to still be pregnant and jonesing for an amazing latte. As the day progressed I started to feel like something was about to happen. (full details here)
For some reason, while I half knew I was in early labor I decided chorizo, kale, black bean and corn burritos were an excellent idea. Really, really bad choice.
Anyhoo, we decided after burrito-ing that we should watch a movie and see what happens labor wise. About 3/4 of the way through Tron Legacy I realized things were progressing and I was tired. For some reason it was super important to Ev that I not fall asleep during the movie so I kept trying to keep myself awake until I kind of snapped at him "honey, it's a movie, we'll live if I fall asleep!"
At around 11pm we headed up to bed for the night.
1:30am: I'm woken up by pretty uncomfortable contractions. I decide to use the handy dandy contraction app a friend recommended and started timing them. Text my sister to let her know she might need to be awake to head to the hospital.
1:45am: Realize Ev has never seen the YouTube video of Jimmy Fallon and the Roots singing Blurred Lines using elementary school instruments. We obviously had to watch it before bringing life into the world.
2:00am: 10 minutes apart. Decide to call the midwife to let her know things are progressing. She recommends we time them for another hour and let her know when they're around 5 minutes apart.
2:10am: Realize we still haven't decided on a middle name. Consider using Flynn because we were watching Tron during early labor but Ev said it was a bit too Irish and neither of us are so it wasn't a good fit. Brought up the idea of Elliott again after our street in Brooklyn and to give him the same initials as E's dad. We decide it's a winner. Nothing like the last minute here kids!
2:30am: Decide to get in the tub to help me stay comfortable and time contractions. This makes using the app a bit tricky and in hindsight I totally stopped the timer prior to the end of quite a few contractions so we were at this point probably around 4-5 minutes apart but I thought we were at like 8 minutes.
3:30am: Realize I need to get to the hospital and call Kristen (midwife). She suggests we head there to meet her and get me measured.
4:00am: Magically manage to not only easily find my sister at the hospital, but park right next to her so she can help us in. Head up to the birthing center and check in at the nurses station between contractions.
They let me know things were very busy and they led me to room 10. A room with no tub... To which I proclaimed "this fucking sucks". Someone must have gotten the memo or read my birth wishes because no sooner did I head to the bathroom and someone came in to say they were cleaning room 5 (gorgeous corner room with a big tub and amazing lake views) and that I could move over there. Successful potty mouthing!
At this point I'm really uncomfortable and keep asking how long until I can get in the tub. Because things are so busy I just have my sister and Ev draw a bath and they let me know they can use the monitor while I'm in the tub. Score.
So I'm in the tub for a while, Kristen comes in and asks how things are doing. We get out of the tub so she can measure me. She clocks my cervix at 80% effaced still but 6cm dilated. Good progress! Things should be happening soon. Totally.
This is when things get fuzzy. Mostly because I was in pain and also because the hours just really started fading together.
I remember being so excited for the big room with the wall of windows and when the sun came up I was so pissed that my baby wasn't here yet that I made everyone shut the curtains because I was so mad.
I'm not sure what time it was but I started vomiting pretty early on as well. First in the bed and all over the floor (sorry everyone) and then into the garbage from the tub, and on the toilet, and then into some long baggy thing in the bed. Seriously, why is it not a well-known fact that most women vomit during labor? Oh, because it's like pouring salt in a really huge gaping vaginal wound, that's why.
I started pushing at around 10am in pretty much every position possible. The tub, the toilet, the bed, so many positions on the bed. At this point, Kristen's shift was done and Amy was coming on. I'm so glad the weekend provided me with 2 of my favorite practitioners because although I'm not happy I had 14ish total hours of labor, I am pleased I got to see both of them on my birthing day.
I actually really needed both of their bedside styles at the very times they were available to me. I needed Kristen's loving, nurturing and kind presence in my early stages when I was optimistic and thought things were going smoothly and that I was going to labor much like my sister and cousin and have the baby in the early afternoon. Then when Amy came on and I realized I was in it for the long haul I needed to be able to swear like a trucker, call my baby an asshole, loudly proclaim that burritos were a bad idea as I was shitting everywhere and know that Amy would not only take it but give it right back.
At one point we joked about using potato chip clips on nipples, the huge size of my husband's head and it being something I should have taken into consideration during the dating stages, she may have loudly proclaimed several times that my sister was a freak for having her kids in like, 3 hours. Which actually made me feel really good because I honestly expected to have a super fast labor and felt like a bit of a failure for things taking so long. I also at that point mentioned that the clock was mocking me and wishing it would go away. It did not go away.
Probably around noon or so (I honestly have no idea when it happened. This is 100% a guess. It could have been 10am) my water broke and I was hopeful things would progress much quicker and he would be here soon. Even the most amazing labor and delivery nurse, Allison wasn't helping. Let me tell you, this woman was the butch gym teacher version of a nurse. And exactly what I needed. When she was in the room it was like labor boot camp. With my leg firmly in her grasp and her loud booming voice yelling in my ear I really felt like I could get this kid out. He was slowly but surely moving his way out of me. Key word here being slowly. But little progress was being made and my energy stores were wasting away quickly.
After 6 hours of pushing, vomiting, shitting, swearing and calling my kid a little dick for not coming out, I decided I had had enough. My body wasn't producing strong contractions anymore and I just had nothing left to give. I was literally on empty.
Me: "Amy, this fucking sucks. What are my options?"
Amy: "Well, we can give you pitocin to get the contractions going and you'll probably need an IV and epidural or we can use the vacuum extractor"
Me: "Vacuum this kid out of me, Amy"
At this point it was 2:45pm. Amy said we could try pushing to 3pm and make a decision. I asked what the vacuuming process was and she said I still had to push through contractions to get him out and it wasn't an immediate thing. I assured her I literally had nothing left and needed him out.
She let me know that she would need to call in the pediatric team because he might need to be checked out if he seems stunned on his exit. I was totally ok with all of this because I just knew he needed to come out and this seemed like the most natural way to get him here in the fastest way.
After 3 more contractions, 12 more pushes and 2 vacuum extractors later, William Elliott Goldfried was born into the world at 3:20pm EST at 8lbs 12oz and 21 inches long.
Apparently it's a good thing I had my eyes closed during the pushing because there were shared looks of horror on all of the doctors faces and my sister when his head came out and he was looking at everyone. No one knew he was posterior, which is why it took so long for him to come out. He did come out a bit stunned and had to go to the pediatric team immediately. This means I didn't get to hold him first, nor did we get to wait until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing before it was cut. As much as I'd like to say this bothered me, it really didn't. I made the choices I needed to make in order to bring my son into this world.
Immediately after he was born I felt like a human again. They took William to the weighing and clean off station in the corner with the pediatric team. All in yellow gowns like some sort of Greek chorus quietly congratulating my husband on becoming a father. Amy and the resident quickly took to pushing on my belly to get the placenta out, which I absolutely did not feel coming out at all. My adrenaline had kicked in and I immediately whipped off the cute indigo blue bikini top I had been wearing the whole time in order to have skin to skin with my son when he was ready.
I held him and saw him and loved him immediately. Funny enough though, I didn't cry. So many times during labor I wanted to cry but I knew I didn't have the energy to spend on something so pointless. By the time he was born I honestly probably didn't even have tears left in my body. In hindsight I realized that I didn't really let myself cry the whole day for fear of just not being able to stop.
As I held my son, Amy and the resident took to stitching me up for what felt like an eternity. At one point I asked her if she was giving me a Harry Potter lightning bolt and told Ev we'd have to name his penis Voldemort. Then, after another like, 10 minutes of stitching that felt like an hour, I asked if she was just closing up shop down there to avoid me ever having to do that again. Someone mentioned something about the next time while we were in the delivery room still and I told them to shut the fuck up if they ever thought I was doing that again.
The long and the short of it is, if you had asked me 3 days ago, I would have said I would never do that again. Honestly. Period. Happy with one baby. Sorry Will, no siblings. We can take really amazing vacations and you can bring a friend. But now, 7 days out, I'd probably do it again but maybe a bit differently next time.
In hindsight, I'm really glad I didn't know much about the vacuum extraction process before I made the choice because I may not have done it and I can confidently say I really needed it. I had no idea that the hematoma that the vacuum process causes can effect the baby's ability to suckle and effectively breastfeed. It can also bruise his little brain. Thankfully neither of these things were an issue as my baby is 100% an absolute rock star who handled the birthing and laboring process better than I did. At no time did his heart rate go to an unacceptable rate. The only thing he really sucked at was being in the right position to come out. Oh and for being huge and late. But the huge part is not his fault. I blame Ben and Jerry.
Before I had Will I stood firmly that vaginal, unmedicated birth was the only acceptable way to bring a child into this world. Now I realize how naive I was. Childbirth is hard work. That's why it's called labor. We're so lucky to live in a day and age that we have options. You no longer have to be strapped down and drugged but you also have that option if that seems attractive to you. You can also just decide vaginal birth is just not your thing and have a cesarean. Science is awesome like that. Now that I've struggled through an unmedicated 14 hour labor ending with 6 hours of pushing and a vacuum extraction, I have to say, I bet epidurals really are awesome. I may get one next time. Movies like Business of Being Born have demonized medication and doctors and hospitals and their treatment of pregnant women and birth. I'll say it right now, I know I'm amazingly lucky to live in Vermont where I have options and people who listen and hippie nurses and doctors, so I'm sure my experience is and always will be different than that of others, but I trust in my medical providers and their expertise.
If epidurals and pitocin harmed babies, they wouldn't be allowed to use them. If cesareans were really as horrible as documentaries make them out to be, they wouldn't do them voluntarily. Granted, there are studies that the labor process is beneficial for the baby, but we're so lucky to have options as women.
At the end of the day I'm proud of the way I brought my baby into the world, the pain I endured, the strength I showed and the amazing bundle of love I created with my husband. But now that he's here I realize it doesn't matter how he came out. He's here. He's healthy and he's loved. That's what really matters.
Editors Note: A huge thanks has to go out to my amazingly wonderful husband and sister. I am so lucky to be surrounded by so many amazing people. There is absolutely no way in hell I could have gotten through the day without both of them being there for me and I think they probably feel the same way. At the end of the day they were both dead on their feet and they kept it together for me. That kind of love and support is truly amazing and wonderful and just fills my heart with so much joy.
Without further adieu. Welcome to the world baby boy. You are so lucky, so loved and so precious. I can't wait to see the amazing things you'll do with your life. Mamma loves you.
