Chaos Theory

This isn’t your TLC Baby Story
originally written November 26th, 2005

On Friday the 18th of November, Hayley had gone to visit her grandparents. We had gone to yet another prenatal appointment that day and on the way home she had asked her grandfather if she could come over; when he got back home from some afternoon errands, he called to see if she could come for dinner. Being very, very pregnant, and very tired of being in the damn apartment combined with suddenly not having a three-year-old around made me have an overwhelming urge to go see George play one set at the bar he normally plays on Friday nights. We asked if his parents would mind watching Hayley for an extra couple of hours and I got changed, actually put on makeup, and went out.

I had a really good time hanging out and listening to music. Much joking was made about how the music would send me straight into labor; the bar manager/singer promised that if my water broke he would take me downstairs to the office and deliver the baby himself. Labor didn’t happen, though I did get a few good contractions while there. On the other hand, from the opening notes of “Should I Stay or Should I Go” which was their first song, to the last song of the set, I felt almost constant stretching and kicking. I can’t tell if it’s because the baby was happy and enjoying it or if she was freaked out. With Hayley I was able to go out to hear George play more often so she was used to live music from the second she developed her ears. Just before leaving to come home, George introduced me to one of the regulars and he took my hand, did some weird movements with it, gently touched my belly, closed his eyes and then informed me I would have the baby on Sunday. I thought he was a bit of a nut (a nice nut though), but told him I really hoped he was right.

On Saturday the 19th, we went to our friends’ house because their daughter was celebrating her 6th birthday and once Hayley got past the unsettling shock of 13 5- and 6-year olds running around, she had fun playing with her own friends. Meanwhile, everyone expressed much shock over how huge and gravity-defying my belly was. One woman in particular, Ani, kept grabbing my belly, rubbing it frantically, and shouting “Come on out! Your Mommy wants to meet you!” at my bellybutton.

Somewhere around 10 pm we brought Hayley home and George went back to the party while I got her into bed. I had a strange feeling that I should go to bed myself, even though I wasn’t all that tired yet, being wired from the Latin music that we had all been dancing around to in the kitchen. Instead of being sensible, I got online to catch up on some of my websites. While drinking plenty of water and having a snack I started having very noticeable contractions. I had a very strong voice in the back of my head telling me that maybe it was going to be soon, but having gone through tons of false labor with both pregnancies, I refused to get my hopes up. I read a bunch of birth stories, mostly home births (perhaps out of envy of those who can do that), and finally went to bed when George came home at a little before 1 am. He had to get up at 7:30 to go do some work on Sunday so it was time for sleep.

I woke up at about 4 or 5 in the morning to pee, as usual. I was up for all of a minute and a half before I fell back to sleep in a very tired stupor, barely even aware of the bright bathroom light. I slept like the dead for awhile longer, and since I didn’t have a long sleep, it’s good that it was, at the very least, a great sleep.

At exactly 6 am I woke up with a start. I wondered what had woken me up so abruptly, thinking maybe there had been a loud noise. Then I realized that without even being aware of it, I had gotten up on my hands and knees in bed and was breathing heavily through a fairly strong contraction. Unfazed, I laid back down and closed my eyes. I was up again with another one at 6:07. From that point on, I had strong contractions every 7 or 8 minutes. By the time I was 3/4 of the way through the hour, I had given up on being nonplussed and had finally started to get a little excited and hopeful. I laid back and worried about the fact that George was going to be leaving soon and wondered if I should ask him to stay home just in case, even though he could be home in 20 minutes and there was still a good chance that everything would fizzle out again.

It was all moot by 7 o’clock. I felt a particularly strong contraction that wouldn’t let me think about anything else. When it was over, I felt a peculiar downward pressure and my water broke. Well, that settled everything right there. I got up with a very strange calm composure and woke George up. I calmly told him he wasn’t going to work and when he asked why, I told him my water had just broken and he leaped out of bed to page my doctor, who said to come in. Hayley was up too with all the commotion so he called his parents and let them know he was bringing her over so he could take me to the hospital. Meanwhile, still in a dazed feeling of utter calm, I bustled around, getting a few changes of clothes and some other necessities for Hayley in case she had to spend the night. Then I found my list of things for my hospital bag and gathered all the last-minute items that couldn’t be packed ahead of time (i.e., toothbrush, contact stuff, etc.) and tossed them in the bag. At 7:30 I called and woke my mother up so that she could get ready; I told her we weren’t leaving just yet so that we would call her from the car to tell her when we were on our way.

Just before George left, the contractions started coming quicker and harder than before. It never crossed my mind to time them, maybe because I was a little too distracted, but then again it really didn’t matter; once your water breaks, contractions are irrelevant as far as whether you should go in or not. I was really anxious for him to take Hayley and just go because aside from the fact that I was in a lot of discomfort and wanted to get to the hospital, I couldn’t stop from throwing myself down on the floor and moaning loudly and it was making Hayley worry. She kept asking if I was okay and trying to pat my back which was sweet and endearing but also really irritating. I wanted her to stop touching me without getting mad at her and I mostly didn’t want her to be scared. I heard George mention something about how sometimes it hurts before you have a baby but that I was fine and then they were gone.

I know he was probably gone less than 20 minutes since his parents live five minutes away and all he had to do was put the car seat in their car, but it felt like an hour. I was kneeling on the floor in the living room, hunched over the couch with a pillow clutched to my stomach, wailing into another pillow because the contractions were coming in sets of three, one of top of the other. Even more worrying was the fact that every so often I would feel a strong downward pressure like my body wanted to push. I stumbled to the bathroom to see if that would help, but I had a mildly irrational fear that I would push the baby out into the toilet so I came back to the living room. In between contraction waves, I would watch the fish swim to calm myself down. I also kept thinking of all the great birth-related tips and tales I had read from Kathy and Jessica / Very Mom about fear and how it increases the pain. I wasn’t able to completely push aside the pain or fear but it did help a little.

George arrived at home and I cried about how I didn’t want to wear my boots and asked him to go get my shoes from the bedroom. I waited out another wave of contractions, then practically RAN down all four flights of stairs because I didn’t want to get any of them on the stairs. I made it to the bottom and then had to kneel on the floor for another one, but at least I was down there. We hobbled our way to the car, with me howling and moaning and clutching the couch throw pillow I didn’t even realize I still had while some poor little old lady stared anxiously at me as she walked along the sidewalk. In my head I said “I’m just in labor, stop looking at me!” but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was, “ow ow ow!”

I was so grateful that it was early on a Sunday morning, because 24 hours later would have found us trapped in morning traffic. There was a light drizzle of rain but the roads were clear and we got to the hospital pretty quickly, even with a stop for gas on the way. In the car I told George that I was feeling pressure, which was my code for “oh my god, I feel like pushing!” He pulled up to the main entrance and got me a wheelchair, then parked in the lot right next to the door. I sat there with my pillow in my wet jeans, moaning into my pillow, and scaring the crap out of two young children who were coming in with their parents.

We got up to labor and delivery very quickly and i was admitted immediately with no questions besides “who is your doctor?” They had already been contacted by him so they whisked me off right away. (When I mentioned how quickly I was admitted, George said, “Well yeah, you were screaming in the hallway, of course they did!” Smart ass.)

Mildly incoherent, while I was sitting on my knees on the floor I told them about my urge to push. No one seemed too concerned about that, other than to tell me not to and to stop breathing so quickly so I wouldn’t hyperventilate. They got me to slow it down but pant when I had the urge, then they got me into the bed to check me. I was already 8 centimeters, and I knew that what had been in the back of my mind was true - there would be no time for an epidural. After waffling for a couple of weeks about whether I really wanted one or not, it was no longer an option even though I was wishing I could have one anyway.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of squeezing the hell out of my mother’s hand and demanding that George rub my back, I got angry and told them I really needed to push. They checked me again and I was 9 now. One of the nurses (I wish I knew her name, she was really nice and great) told me to go ahead and push just a little if it offered some relief but not to push hard. I didn’t bother to tell her I had already been doing that anyway because honestly, it was out of my hands and my body was just doing what it needed to do with no regard to formalities like the metric system.

(An amusing side note for myself was that in between the fog that surrounds you while you’re contracting like that, I had one very clear moment where I was in mid-contraction and I thought back to the party the night before with the shaking of and yelling at my stomach, and I thought to myself, “Fuck you Ani!” Heehee, I can’t wait to tell her that, she’ll think it’s hilarious.)

By 9:30, one hour after arriving in L&D, I was checked again and was apparently fully dilated. They paged my doctor even though the idiot resident (as I later found out) was supposed to have paged him as soon as I hit 7 or 8 centimeters. Pushing started for real. I had only pushed for ten minutes when my doctor arrived. George later told me that he had burst into the room in a very Kramer-like manner; apparently he was really angry that he hadn’t been contacted earlier and gave the resident shit for it after everything was over. I didn’t see him at first, what with being a little busy, but I heard his voice and despite being involved in a great deal of effort, I also immediately relaxed. I didn’t really care if the damn janitor delivered the baby as long as she got out, but I love my doctor so much that just knowing he was there made it better.

Pushing continued. It hurt but then the nice nurse said the magic words, “push the pain away” and that made so much sense that I started pushing with everything I had in me and it honestly helped so much. What was nice about not having the epidural was that I felt more in control so that if they told me to push hard but my body said no, I just gave little pushes instead.

At 9:50, there were signs of some fetal distress and I was told it was time to get the baby out so I pushed harder than I already was - it amazes me how you think you’re doing the best you can and then somehow you find a little more deep down inside yourself. I was nervous because I had stopped hearing the heartbeat on the monitor but it turned out it was just because it had slipped off; however, it inspired me to keep pushing even when I was tired. When her (big!) head finally made its way out, no one actually said anything to me but I heard something about the cord and I knew it must be around her neck. No one seemed panicky about it so I assumed it wasn’t a huge deal, even though when I craned my neck to see (in the overhead mirror I could only see her head, not the neck, because of the angle), I saw that my doctor was clamping and cutting the cord himself rather than getting George to do it after the birth like last time. Later in my room, George told me he was glad that I couldn’t see that well because apparently it was wrapped pretty tightly around her neck and she was pretty blue at the time.

Once the cord was gone I gave two or three more pushes and the rest of her body came out. She was finally out and she was breathing. She didn’t make a lot of noise but everyone said she was fine and they put her on top of me immediately so I stopped worrying. She was born at 9:54 am, less than four hours after labor started (or at least started enough to wake me up) and less than an hour and a half after my arrival at the hospital. She only scored 5 on the first Apgar test because of her color and muscle tone but then got a very happy 9 on the second one five minutes later. Compared to her much smaller sister (Hayley was 6 lbs, 11 oz at birth), she weighed in at 8 lbs, 5 oz (in my tiny body! Jeez!), was 51 centimeters long, and had a head circumference of 31 centimeters.

Her name is Breanna Emily Elise and I was happy to discover you can love two kids just as equally. She is perfect and beautiful and amazing. Breanna and Emily are names that George chose, just because he liked them. Since I’m a dork, I chose Elise after my favorite Beethoven composition, “F�r Elise”. (Note: Thank you Carrie for pointing out that it was not Mozart as I accidentally wrote originally. I feel like a dork!)

We stayed in the hospital for two nights. It was nice to be there and have people come take care of me and bring me food and whatnot, but by Monday night I was missing my home and my little family so I was happy when my doctor released me the next day. While we were there we were busy with baths and the usual tests. Breanna was born with a professional breastfeeding nature, and she latched on right in the delivery room, even though she didn’t actually take much in. She latched easily again in our room and did really well. She’s either just really hungry or she’s been here before and thus already knew what she was doing; the nurses were impressed.

Our friends didn’t want to come and intrude on our recovery time, but Hayley came each day to see us for a couple of hours. She loved her sister immediately. Even now, when it’s hard for her to handle the changes in our lives, she still loves her.

She was so proud to be able to help hold her.

Home for the first time on Nov. 22nd:

*******

Like I said, I was wondering about going without the epidural anyway, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. I mean, I knew that like millions and millions of women since the dawn of time, I could DO it if I had to but I didn’t know if I was capable of making a decision to be medication-free. When that choice was taken away from me by time, I didn’t worry much about it, I just concentrated on getting through it. Now that it’s over, I’m so incredibly happy that I didn’t have an epidural after all.
# Despite the fact that I had a 4th degree episiotomy AGAIN (and I really don’t care since I think this time it was really important since she was in a serious state at the time) and got all the same number of stitches, I felt great. I took painkillers a few times at the hospital but I didn’t even feel a need to ask for a prescription. They gave me ice but the ice annoyed me more than soothed me so I only used it once. Even now at home, sometimes I feel a bit achy, but I really feel very well in comparison to the last time; after Hayley was born, I was taking my painkillers every four hours without fail for three or four weeks. In fact, a lot of times I was eyeballing the clock at three and a half hours, just waiting for the moment I could take another dose. I think that it was because I pushed equally hard with every contraction because I didn’t feel any pain. This time, even when they told me to push hard, if my body said no, I listened and pushed more slowly those times. The only time I ignored what my body wanted was at the very end when we needed to get her out in a hurry. Because of that, I think I put my body through less distress.
# If I had had the epidural, I might have slowed everything down. If the pushing hadn’t been as successful because of that, I might have ended up with an emergency situation on my hands due to the cord problem. You have no idea how many times I have thanked every deity that may be out there for the fact that I couldn’t have an epidural and was therefore able to push her out in fairly short order.
# It’s nice to have experienced both sides. I loved my birth experience either way and now I know what it’s like to be pain-free and what it’s like to do it the old-fashioned way.
# It sounds like a cliche, but I swear, the moment - literally, the second - that she slid out of me, the pain stopped. The pain and discomfort were wild, but they vanished immediately and I only vaguely remember them in an abstract sort of way. And I still think the abcess tooth I had two years ago was much worse because at least this was pain with a purpose.

I guess that hospitals aren’t used to women giving birth without epidurals anymore, because my doctor kept telling me I was a hero, especially considering that for me, Breanna was a big baby. But I’m not a hero. I would have absolutely taken one if I had had the time, but I’m glad I had this birth experience this time.

I mentioned to my mom that I was a little embarrassed after the fact, over the amount of noise I made, even though I didn’t care at the time (silent Scientology birth my ass, go to hell Tom!) and it really did help. She said I was just keeping a woman down the hall company and I do actually remember hearing someone else yelling somewhere in another room. I guess we both kept each other company then!

All in all, I’m mostly just really glad I made it at all. I didn’t want to be that person who gives birth in the back of the car because you just can’t hang on any longer!

*******

I’ve been typing this up since this morning. Right now George is doing a bit of work and Hayley has gone to look at the Christmas decorations at the mall with her grandparents and aunt. Breanna is sound asleep and has been for some time. I could have passed out with her but I really wanted to write this out before I forgot the details. I actually hope she wakes up soon because I haven’t fed her in a couple of hours and I feel ready to explode. In the meantime though, I’m glad that Hayley is out because I know she’ll have more fun than if she stayed home with me.

I think I’m going to toss aside the old “never wake a sleeping baby” adage and see if I can kiss Bree awake before this boob just falls off altogether.

*******
Reading: The little booklet on baby care that the government gives to new mothers.
Watching: Nothing in particular.
I love: My family.
I hate: Hmmm. Not much. Hormones maybe, which make me cry at the drop of a hat.
Eating: Breakfast - Cheerios and sliced strawberries. Lunch - Cheese dogs. Supper - Probably chicken with noodles and vegetables, we’ll see.