Guppy051708
2 by Sea 2 by Land
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Well, I know I am a bit late on writing this. My DS1 was born on Saturday Sept. 4th, 2010 at 9:17 am weighing in at 7lbs & 10 oz. 20.5 inches long. Enjoy girls! 
I pray that i can be an inspiration to you all 
Birthing Our WaTeR Baby, the Bradley Way
It was September 2, 2010...ten days over my estimated due date. I knew, from my Bradley classes that I was expected to go over due...but not this far over. I had been getting menstrual like cramping on and off for the last two days, but I felt like this day was never going to come and shrugged them off. I loved being pregnant, but I hated the curious faces wondering where in the world my baby was and why I hadn't been induced yet...if they only knew that this was all normal...
...My mother, step-father, and grandmother were up to visit. I am originally from Pennsylvania and relocated here (Coastal New Hampshire) when I was 27 weeks pregnant. It was Labor Day weekend (ironically enough). My family figured Isaiah would have been here by now...well they were wrong...but deep down I knew he was waiting on his grammy's arrival. We visited Ogunquit Beach in Maine that evening. It was hot and humid, but a beautiful site, literally the calm before the storm. A hurricane was at our feet, Earl to be exact. It started to sprinkle and the sun had set with midnight purples, stormy pinks, and dark gray. Looking out at the crashing waves I hoped tonight would be the night...but I wasn't going to get my hopes up.
We got home around 10:00 p.m. that night. I remember complaining to my mother that they are going to have to induce me on Tuesday... after all, I had already angered the Midwives and OBs because I had refused the induction the previous day. (I opted out and took the monitoring instead, of course everything was fine). I went to bed upset. My mother's voice behind me saying, "Yeah right! It will happen in the middle of the night! Your water will break" as I walked up the steps to my room, just praying that all that walking I had been doing was paying off.
Needless to say, I awoke around 3:30 a.m. on Friday (September 3, 2010) to use the loo. I had started to go and finished, when all of a sudden I hear a trickle...and another long trickle. I stood up and yet another! I was completely confused, forgetting that ones membranes could actually break before labor! Out of curiosity, I ran up to the third floor as fast as I could to ask my mother if that's what it was. The fan was blowing so loud but the breeze felt wonderful. I thought I had woken the entire neighborhood with my question to be heard over the buzz. In her voice, I knew she was excited to say it probably was! So off to the shower I go. The water felt great. It wasn't until I was in the shower that contractions mildly began. I felt one here and one there. I also felt the small trickles of my water as I stood in the soothing falls. My water breaking was certainly not the large gush they show in the movies. No. This was different....so different I questioned it! I remember being relieved that this happened first though...as I had time to shave, something that is scarce when you're nearly ten months pregnant! Afterwords, I called the midwife on duty. She explained to me that I should come to the "birth center" (which is really a floor in the hospital) for evaluation.
When I left the house, my contractions were alternating between four and five minutes apart. I was eagerly amazed that they had begun so quickly as I knew it could be hours after the water breaking that they can start. I had a few contractions on the way to the hospital, but these were nothing. I knew exactly were I was in the Bradley signposts, thinking to myself, "I should not be going to the hospital yet. I wish I didn't have to! I am too excited. This isn't the time to be going!" It just wasn't in the cards for us to stay home.
We checked into the birth floor. Of course I was immediately "checked" and then placed in bed for a good half hour with the fetal heart monitor attached. I was dilated exactly the same as I had been for the last three weeks...barley even two centimeters, although I had made progress with thinning out. I was finally to 40% (up from 20% a couple weeks back). Every time I was checked, a would leave puddles behind. It was embarrassing. In fact, I apologized each time I left my presents for the nurses to clean up.
By 6:00 that morning, I was walking the halls. Halls that, at that point, I never thought I would get to know so much. An hour later I was checked again. Still no progress. The nurse seemed surprised, but I surely wasn't! This is normal, I kept telling myself. Adamantly, a nurse (who clearly did not read my birth plan), offered me Mysoprostol (Cytotec). I bluntly refused. It hadn't even been that long, I wanted to give my body a chance to do what it was meant to do and that includes opening up for my baby to be born. Around 9:00 a.m. I was offered Pitocin from the on-shift midwife. I politely turned the offer down. She was surprised that I had but was also happy to see a laboring mother trust in herself. She reminded me that at any point in time I could take it if I wanted to.
We walked for hours. My family showed up. Stephen had a break while I kept up the pace with my mother. I kept drinking my orange juice and eating food in between contractions. I was so hungry but thankful that I was actually allowed to eat (something that would have NEVER happened in Pennsylvania). Contractions still weren't normal. Just when I thought a pattern developed (coming every four minutes) one would come at two minutes, then back to four minutes, then to three minutes, then to one minute, back to five minutes apart. This went on for hours. Never once in my labor did they become regular like I had learned they would. ALL of which were back labor. I felt like someone was crushing my hips together with a compactor from the junk yard. Every contraction my mother (and Stephen, when he returned) would push down on my back hips while I stopped to focus on them, gently and naturally breathing my way through. They were doing a great job. And I knew I was too.
Our rooms had been switched a couple of times. My family left around 3:30pm to eat some
dinner. They would be back later if I wanted. A nurse stopped in. I asked for her to check me. I knew that I should keep checks to a minimum to reduce intervention, but I just had to know. At that point, I felt like if I had known that I made progress (or at least I had hoped I did) that would encourage me. But she refused as they didn't want to risk infection. Slightly disappointed (but knowing it was for the best), I hoped in the shower. Stephen was there standing behind me, pushing down on my hips while I used the sprayer to angle the steamy hot water there. Back labor is no joke! Had I known I would have had back labor for the ENTIRE duration...I would have "ran away" from it! Contractions were getting intense at this point...or at least I was perceiving them to be. I HAD to get out of the shower and call my mother. I wanted her there. As I stepped out of the shower and put my robes back on (yes, two robes) a nurse invited herself in. She plopped down on the rocking chair and in a serious tone asked my if I wanted some Stadol or Fentanyl. She explained to me that I had already been up for "hours" and that I should highly consider it...that she didn't think I would give birth until sometimes late tomorrow evening, and it was different than an epidural. I have to admit, I did consider it for a short minute or two, but I decided to call my mother. In my heart, I figured she would have a way of talking me out of taking the narcotics. I was tired at that point so for that mere fact, a little vulnerable.
She arrived as soon as she could. She never once tried talking me out of anything. But her presence, knowing she had given birth without medication four times out of five, gave me the strength I needed to go on. Of course, Stephen's encouraging words and physical support worked wonders as well.
After a few laps around the small birthing floor, I decided to try out the jacuzzi. During the forty five minute wait for it be filled, which seemed like eternity, I remember still feeling upset about my contractions being irregular. As of 8:30 p.m. they were still very intermittent and no pattern whatsoever. It was finally ready. I was relieved to say the least. I knew the water would do me good! Stephen and I hoped in while my mother sat by my side giving me words of encouragement. Another nurse (who was VERY good at her job) did the same. I was thirsty, and she (the nurse) brought me some orange juice and a large “Wentworth-Douglass Birth Center” water bottle filled with ice and frigid water. I was hungry and she brought me food. After a short time, I was beginning to feel the affects of being in labor for 18 hours. Though back labor is painful, the lack of sleep was my largest challenge to overcome. I finally figured out how to work with my contractions instead of against them. My mother managed to teach me how to sleep in between. I would scream bloody murder as Stephen rubbed as hard as he could on my back. To a passerby I imagine they thought keeping quiet would be more helpful than yelling. But yelling was my crutch. For some reason when I did this it was like letting the pain out instead of keeping it boxed inside. Each time, I was told to "alm downc". This wasn't me not being calm, it was my body letting the pain escape instead of keeping it trapped. I HAD to yell out to God to find relief. It was my ecstasy.
This is were it gets blurry. From early on being in the jacuzzi until the end of my pushing, things were hazy. I remember being checked twice in the jacuzzi. The first time I was four and a half centimeters dilated. I thought for sure that I would have been further along than that! Slightly disappointed, I went back to my dreamy state and my contractions. A little while later, I remember having this large urgency to vomit. What is one to do when you're in water and there are people all around?!? I quickly yelled "I am going to throw up!!!" Away my mother moves. I vomited all over (but missing the jacuzzi, thank God!). The pushy, mean nurse (that tried to get me to take drugs earlier) had the luck of being sprayed with my gifts. Though I did remain sincere about the mess I made, and apologized while she cleaned it up, I was a bit amused by this. Due to the vomiting we ALL thought I was in transition. There was not one that thought otherwise. Because of that, it was reasonable for an internal. I allowed it. I sat on the edges of the jacuzzi with a towel wrapped around me. I was shivering... and only a five. This was more than devastating!!! A five?!?! That's it?!? I was so upset. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how it was that after all of those hours and all of the signposts of transition (the "I can't do it", the vomiting, the feeling of exhaust) that I was only a five. It was beyond me. I cried so hard. Pleading out to God, why?! This was the toughest thing of my life. Was my body failing me? I started to question if I would be capable of moving on with this.
With words of encouragement from everyone around, I tackled each contraction. Stephen reminding me to take them one at a time. My mother by my side soothing me. I can only imagine what it was like for her to see her baby in labor, about to give birth to a baby. I also wonder how tough it was for my husband to see me in this all consuming pain. However, they put their emotions aside to support me (or at least that's what I thought). Eventually, I HAD to go to the bathroom. In the early stages I was doing wonderful with that task, relieving my bladder. Stephen kept telling me to go, hoping it would take the edge of a little. So I hopped out of the jacuzzi with the assistance of the nurse. She led me to the free standing toilette in the room. They watched me go. I didn't care though. It really is true...all modesty goes out the window at some point during child birth...and that was my point of epiphany! I figured the mere position of sitting on the toilette would help alleviate my pain and open up my hips....afterall I did it when i miscarried, so why would this be any different? I thought to myself. I was wrong! Because I am little in stature (5 foot 1 to be exact!), I could not sit on the loo the correct way. My feet were dangling, not touching the floor. I tried my hardest to empty my bladder, stopping in mid-contraction. (Looking back now, I realize I was tensing up. Next time I will try relaxing much more.) Through tears and pain I managed to jump off the throne and back into the warm water - the jets hitting me in all of the right places. Stephen was my physical supporter and my mother (plus the friendly nurse) being my cheerleaders.
I can't remember how long it was, but I was checked again.... nearly six centimeters. I always thought I would disagree to checks , but at this point I was probably a good 21 hours into my labor and figured I had to be in transition by now. They suggested walking to the water birth suite. As I did this, I remember wondering if everyone around saw my body...was I covered up completely? I did care at that point but not enough to actually look, besides it was only a few feet anyways
.
The beautiful room had two views and pretty hardwood floors. The lighting was perfect- down low and dim just the way I had envisioned they would be. The pain was getting absolutley unbearable. At that point, I was in excruciating pain,thus I was checked again. A six and a half. Nearly a seven. I was in transition! Finally!!!! The mere act of walking from the jacuzzi room to the water birth suite, jumped me from a 5 to practically a 7. This was what I needed to hear... it should be over soon. She asked if I would allow her to stretch my cervix to a 7. I was so close she thought she could. I agreed, as I trusted her.
Afterwords, I waddled to the shower next to the kidney bean shaped water birth tub. It felt like an eternity, standing there as the water hit my face and using the sprayer on my back. Pretty soon, Stephen was rubbing my back with a stick loofa and my mother was holding me up. The nurse and my mother stood at my side, while Stephen sat behind me on the shower seat. I was so tired. One can never fathom how tired you can get being in labor for about 22 hours and only sleeping four hours the night before. The OB on duty refused to let me stand there without support, so my willing mother stood next to me for a long time while I hollered in the midst of a contraction. Once it was over, she would literally hold me up. I would fall asleep so quickly that I nearly fell over. "One more contraction, Steph. You can do it. Just one more." I was so thankful for such a great support team. The OB was very supportive of our wishes, trying to get us through this naturally. In fact, one nurse tried to convince me again to take some Demerol as to take the edge off, but more so I would get some sleep. Being the stubborn person that I am, I refused. So she warned the doctor. The doctor (and the "nice nurse") told Steve "She is fine! We are going to do this until we get it right! We will try something until it works!". Being that tired, that worn out, was more unbearable than ANY amount of pain. They thought I would dilate quicker if I laid down and relaxed for a bit.
Stephen reached into my "survival box" and pulled out a ThermaCare Heat Wrap while my mother pulled down the cloth that lay around my belly to hold the fetal monitor on. I loved the cloth piece that encapsulated my tummy. It supported it well and helped with the pain. As Stephen wrapped this around my stomach, he realized it wasn't big enough. Good thing I brought two with me!!! Frantically looking, they found the second one and rigged both up so it would fit properly. The heat felt good, but I was so out of it I didn't notice it for very long. I tried different positions on the bed. I finally found something that helped the most (as much as something can when you're in the hardest part of labor!). I turned facing the back side of the bed. On my knees I leaned onto the backside, with a pillow under my head and a warm blanket covering me up. Stephen rubbed my feet while my mother rubbed my back. Both giving me support even through their presence alone. This only lasted for so long though. It seemed to stop working. They wanted me to lay down on the bed. I tried it, but it was not happening. The nurse kept saying it may help me dilate. So with that I attempted to lay there. I could only stand laying on my back half way through a contraction. There was NO way I could stay that way....not with back labor! So I flipped to my side. This was TERRIBLE! Though a little better than laying on my back but I cried and screamed out. This was THE worst part of the entire labor and delivery...laying there. I could NOT do it. It was the WORST 20 minutes of my life. I remember thinking no wonder woman who are forced to stay on their back get epidurals! It was the MOST excruciating pain I had ever felt! After begging and pleading, I jumped out of that bed as quick as I could. I HAD to be in the upright position. I HAD to have someone pushing down on my hips. It was the only way I knew I could get through these crazy back labor contractions until the water birth tub was filled.
As the tub was being filled, I knew it would take a long time but it couldn't fill up fast enough! I will admit though, the sound of the water hitting the tub took the edge of my contractions. It was like knowing that I would have my water therapy back helped me along. I stood in the shower, going through my dreamy state, to the beginning of my contractions, to crying out to Jesus at the height of them, then to falling back into a trance. The minute they said I could get into the water birth tub, I felt overjoyed! Surely, this will be over soon!
I get in. They grabbed me a pillow and placed it on the seat (which is actually used for the woman to sit on during an internal exam). I floated dead-man style while my head was rested on the pillow. Around 4:00 a.m.maybe earlier (Saturday, September 4, 2010) my moans began turning into small grunts. Was I pushing just now?? I thought to myself. Apparently I was so my mother went and got the nurse. They checked me and freaked out as i was only 8cm dilated...they didn't want me to push but I HAD TO! I agonized with the prospects of a painful back contraction, but I tried getting back into my dreamy state again. With each contraction I was pushing ever so lightly. By 5:00 a.m. the OB made her appearance. I started pushing heavily. Sometimes, I had to ask when to push. It sounds crazy, but I wanted to make sure each push was effective. (Later i learned this is common with posterior babies, the lack of needing to push after a certain point!) I was so worn out that at times I would push when it really wasn't helping any. The nurse felt my stomach. Looking and feeling to see if it was getting hard. The OB accompanied her, leading me each step of the way.
I tried so many positions. In the beginning, I made use of the handle bars inside of the tub. After an hour or so of that (flipping between floating on my belly and floating on my back), we decided to try out the "squat bar". They grabbed a large white hospital blanket (or at least that's what I thought it was at the time), pulled it through the square bar that lay connected to the ceiling and then handed it to me. I was glad to have remember this position, as I know it shortens the birth canal and I knew it would help. For hours, I would float, then grab a hold of the blanket and squats while I pushed. The doctor checking and helping me. My mother physically supporting me, behind me. Stephen's GERD (a stomach condition) came back. Great! What a wonderful time, I thought sarcastically to myself. Poor guy! He was sick. So some of the nurse staff tended to him while the others tended to me.
The tub had to be refilled mulitple times. I kept asking, “will this be over with soon?” and everyone kept saying, “you can do it!” They never once alluded to the idea that they had no idea (which I knew at that time but didn't give it more than a few seconds to think about). The water fell out of the ceiling from a large pipe. It was very hot- it had to be to regulate my temperature and the baby's well enough. I vividly remember seeing the bright red numbers on the digital clock change times. I was thankful the sleepy trance I was in. It made time go by quickly. Every time I looked up, it seemed I had been off in no-man's land because an hour would pass so quickly. Although I pushed for a total of six hours, this was the fastest part of everything (in my mind anyways).
Some long hours go bye. Finally my baby's hair is floating in the water. The doctor had me feeling his head of hair for encouragement. It brought me great joy and gave me the strength I need to get through even with major sleep depervationc, severe back labor, and irregular contractions for the last 30 hours. Pushing was taking a very long time. Contractions still weren't coming regularly. I was lucky if I was getting a contraction every six minutes at that point. Looking back now, I realize that was mother nature being kind to me. God knew I was worn out and beat, so He was giving me a break. FINALLY! I am pushing so vigorously that even more of the head is coming out. I was crowning! This IS the moment!!! I fell backwards from my squat position, with my mothers support. Stephen is called over from the bed in the midst of his sickness. Isaiah's head was coming out and there was no going back! It burned! People were not kidding when they talked about "the ring of fire!!!" I crowned for a VERY long time. I repeatedly asked, over and over again, Am I ripping??, ouch!!! Oh my gosh, I am tearing!!! The OB assured me that I wasn't. (In the end, I didn't have one tear or need cut at all. Everyone was amazed with my minor “cat scratch”, especially this being my first birth and he was sunnyside up.) Finally after crowning for a good 20 minutes to a half hour, the body emerges. Unexpectedly, the doctor tells Stephen to come over and deliver his baby. He hurried along, "caught" Isaiah and handed him to me. Isaiah Joseph Kirsch was born at 9:17 a.m. on Saturday, September 4th, 2010 after 30 hours of back labor, six hours of pushing, being 12 days overdue, and severely sleep deprived my baby was finally here!
This is what we had been waiting for! For nearly 10 months, we had been waiting to meet this precious baby through the gentlest birth I was capable of. One million things ran through my head. I was overjoyed. I was empowered. I can't put this all into words, but WOW! I was so happy I was crying. I was so worn out, I had no tears. I was so grateful all I could do for five minutes straight was say "You're finally here! You're finally here! It's been so long! I can't believe I have finally met you! FINALLY!"
I jumped out of the birth tub to deliver the placenta. Stephen seemed a little freaked by the terminal meconium that fell between my legs upon standing. Had he never said anything, I would not have noticed. Over to the bed I went for the third and final stage of the birth. I nursed Isaiah as soon as I was able to. That first time is something I will never forget. Although that was the end of my birth story, it was the beginning of a journey, a new life...
...That was, and always will be, the most amazing, most empowering wonderful experience of my life. Knowing that I did what I set out to do. Knowing that I was able to take what I learned from Bradley and turn it into a reality. That I birthed my baby instead of being "delivered from him" by a doctor. There will NEVER be anything more empowering or accomplishing in my life than giving birth to my child for 30 hours with zero intervention, no pain medication, and being 12 days overdue without an unnecessary induction or augmentation. I am so grateful and happy that I took Bradley. Nothing will EVERY compare to the day I worked so hard to meet the love of my life. What an honor...
*************************EDIT**************************
read my labor & delivery records. Turns out he was sunny side up! A posterior baby, no wonder I had extreme back labor and pushed for so long!
DH said he came out facing 2 o'clock 
I pray that i can be an inspiration to you all Birthing Our WaTeR Baby, the Bradley Way
It was September 2, 2010...ten days over my estimated due date. I knew, from my Bradley classes that I was expected to go over due...but not this far over. I had been getting menstrual like cramping on and off for the last two days, but I felt like this day was never going to come and shrugged them off. I loved being pregnant, but I hated the curious faces wondering where in the world my baby was and why I hadn't been induced yet...if they only knew that this was all normal...
...My mother, step-father, and grandmother were up to visit. I am originally from Pennsylvania and relocated here (Coastal New Hampshire) when I was 27 weeks pregnant. It was Labor Day weekend (ironically enough). My family figured Isaiah would have been here by now...well they were wrong...but deep down I knew he was waiting on his grammy's arrival. We visited Ogunquit Beach in Maine that evening. It was hot and humid, but a beautiful site, literally the calm before the storm. A hurricane was at our feet, Earl to be exact. It started to sprinkle and the sun had set with midnight purples, stormy pinks, and dark gray. Looking out at the crashing waves I hoped tonight would be the night...but I wasn't going to get my hopes up.
We got home around 10:00 p.m. that night. I remember complaining to my mother that they are going to have to induce me on Tuesday... after all, I had already angered the Midwives and OBs because I had refused the induction the previous day. (I opted out and took the monitoring instead, of course everything was fine). I went to bed upset. My mother's voice behind me saying, "Yeah right! It will happen in the middle of the night! Your water will break" as I walked up the steps to my room, just praying that all that walking I had been doing was paying off.
Needless to say, I awoke around 3:30 a.m. on Friday (September 3, 2010) to use the loo. I had started to go and finished, when all of a sudden I hear a trickle...and another long trickle. I stood up and yet another! I was completely confused, forgetting that ones membranes could actually break before labor! Out of curiosity, I ran up to the third floor as fast as I could to ask my mother if that's what it was. The fan was blowing so loud but the breeze felt wonderful. I thought I had woken the entire neighborhood with my question to be heard over the buzz. In her voice, I knew she was excited to say it probably was! So off to the shower I go. The water felt great. It wasn't until I was in the shower that contractions mildly began. I felt one here and one there. I also felt the small trickles of my water as I stood in the soothing falls. My water breaking was certainly not the large gush they show in the movies. No. This was different....so different I questioned it! I remember being relieved that this happened first though...as I had time to shave, something that is scarce when you're nearly ten months pregnant! Afterwords, I called the midwife on duty. She explained to me that I should come to the "birth center" (which is really a floor in the hospital) for evaluation.
When I left the house, my contractions were alternating between four and five minutes apart. I was eagerly amazed that they had begun so quickly as I knew it could be hours after the water breaking that they can start. I had a few contractions on the way to the hospital, but these were nothing. I knew exactly were I was in the Bradley signposts, thinking to myself, "I should not be going to the hospital yet. I wish I didn't have to! I am too excited. This isn't the time to be going!" It just wasn't in the cards for us to stay home.
We checked into the birth floor. Of course I was immediately "checked" and then placed in bed for a good half hour with the fetal heart monitor attached. I was dilated exactly the same as I had been for the last three weeks...barley even two centimeters, although I had made progress with thinning out. I was finally to 40% (up from 20% a couple weeks back). Every time I was checked, a would leave puddles behind. It was embarrassing. In fact, I apologized each time I left my presents for the nurses to clean up.
By 6:00 that morning, I was walking the halls. Halls that, at that point, I never thought I would get to know so much. An hour later I was checked again. Still no progress. The nurse seemed surprised, but I surely wasn't! This is normal, I kept telling myself. Adamantly, a nurse (who clearly did not read my birth plan), offered me Mysoprostol (Cytotec). I bluntly refused. It hadn't even been that long, I wanted to give my body a chance to do what it was meant to do and that includes opening up for my baby to be born. Around 9:00 a.m. I was offered Pitocin from the on-shift midwife. I politely turned the offer down. She was surprised that I had but was also happy to see a laboring mother trust in herself. She reminded me that at any point in time I could take it if I wanted to.
We walked for hours. My family showed up. Stephen had a break while I kept up the pace with my mother. I kept drinking my orange juice and eating food in between contractions. I was so hungry but thankful that I was actually allowed to eat (something that would have NEVER happened in Pennsylvania). Contractions still weren't normal. Just when I thought a pattern developed (coming every four minutes) one would come at two minutes, then back to four minutes, then to three minutes, then to one minute, back to five minutes apart. This went on for hours. Never once in my labor did they become regular like I had learned they would. ALL of which were back labor. I felt like someone was crushing my hips together with a compactor from the junk yard. Every contraction my mother (and Stephen, when he returned) would push down on my back hips while I stopped to focus on them, gently and naturally breathing my way through. They were doing a great job. And I knew I was too.
Our rooms had been switched a couple of times. My family left around 3:30pm to eat some
dinner. They would be back later if I wanted. A nurse stopped in. I asked for her to check me. I knew that I should keep checks to a minimum to reduce intervention, but I just had to know. At that point, I felt like if I had known that I made progress (or at least I had hoped I did) that would encourage me. But she refused as they didn't want to risk infection. Slightly disappointed (but knowing it was for the best), I hoped in the shower. Stephen was there standing behind me, pushing down on my hips while I used the sprayer to angle the steamy hot water there. Back labor is no joke! Had I known I would have had back labor for the ENTIRE duration...I would have "ran away" from it! Contractions were getting intense at this point...or at least I was perceiving them to be. I HAD to get out of the shower and call my mother. I wanted her there. As I stepped out of the shower and put my robes back on (yes, two robes) a nurse invited herself in. She plopped down on the rocking chair and in a serious tone asked my if I wanted some Stadol or Fentanyl. She explained to me that I had already been up for "hours" and that I should highly consider it...that she didn't think I would give birth until sometimes late tomorrow evening, and it was different than an epidural. I have to admit, I did consider it for a short minute or two, but I decided to call my mother. In my heart, I figured she would have a way of talking me out of taking the narcotics. I was tired at that point so for that mere fact, a little vulnerable.
She arrived as soon as she could. She never once tried talking me out of anything. But her presence, knowing she had given birth without medication four times out of five, gave me the strength I needed to go on. Of course, Stephen's encouraging words and physical support worked wonders as well.
After a few laps around the small birthing floor, I decided to try out the jacuzzi. During the forty five minute wait for it be filled, which seemed like eternity, I remember still feeling upset about my contractions being irregular. As of 8:30 p.m. they were still very intermittent and no pattern whatsoever. It was finally ready. I was relieved to say the least. I knew the water would do me good! Stephen and I hoped in while my mother sat by my side giving me words of encouragement. Another nurse (who was VERY good at her job) did the same. I was thirsty, and she (the nurse) brought me some orange juice and a large “Wentworth-Douglass Birth Center” water bottle filled with ice and frigid water. I was hungry and she brought me food. After a short time, I was beginning to feel the affects of being in labor for 18 hours. Though back labor is painful, the lack of sleep was my largest challenge to overcome. I finally figured out how to work with my contractions instead of against them. My mother managed to teach me how to sleep in between. I would scream bloody murder as Stephen rubbed as hard as he could on my back. To a passerby I imagine they thought keeping quiet would be more helpful than yelling. But yelling was my crutch. For some reason when I did this it was like letting the pain out instead of keeping it boxed inside. Each time, I was told to "alm downc". This wasn't me not being calm, it was my body letting the pain escape instead of keeping it trapped. I HAD to yell out to God to find relief. It was my ecstasy.
This is were it gets blurry. From early on being in the jacuzzi until the end of my pushing, things were hazy. I remember being checked twice in the jacuzzi. The first time I was four and a half centimeters dilated. I thought for sure that I would have been further along than that! Slightly disappointed, I went back to my dreamy state and my contractions. A little while later, I remember having this large urgency to vomit. What is one to do when you're in water and there are people all around?!? I quickly yelled "I am going to throw up!!!" Away my mother moves. I vomited all over (but missing the jacuzzi, thank God!). The pushy, mean nurse (that tried to get me to take drugs earlier) had the luck of being sprayed with my gifts. Though I did remain sincere about the mess I made, and apologized while she cleaned it up, I was a bit amused by this. Due to the vomiting we ALL thought I was in transition. There was not one that thought otherwise. Because of that, it was reasonable for an internal. I allowed it. I sat on the edges of the jacuzzi with a towel wrapped around me. I was shivering... and only a five. This was more than devastating!!! A five?!?! That's it?!? I was so upset. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how it was that after all of those hours and all of the signposts of transition (the "I can't do it", the vomiting, the feeling of exhaust) that I was only a five. It was beyond me. I cried so hard. Pleading out to God, why?! This was the toughest thing of my life. Was my body failing me? I started to question if I would be capable of moving on with this.
With words of encouragement from everyone around, I tackled each contraction. Stephen reminding me to take them one at a time. My mother by my side soothing me. I can only imagine what it was like for her to see her baby in labor, about to give birth to a baby. I also wonder how tough it was for my husband to see me in this all consuming pain. However, they put their emotions aside to support me (or at least that's what I thought). Eventually, I HAD to go to the bathroom. In the early stages I was doing wonderful with that task, relieving my bladder. Stephen kept telling me to go, hoping it would take the edge of a little. So I hopped out of the jacuzzi with the assistance of the nurse. She led me to the free standing toilette in the room. They watched me go. I didn't care though. It really is true...all modesty goes out the window at some point during child birth...and that was my point of epiphany! I figured the mere position of sitting on the toilette would help alleviate my pain and open up my hips....afterall I did it when i miscarried, so why would this be any different? I thought to myself. I was wrong! Because I am little in stature (5 foot 1 to be exact!), I could not sit on the loo the correct way. My feet were dangling, not touching the floor. I tried my hardest to empty my bladder, stopping in mid-contraction. (Looking back now, I realize I was tensing up. Next time I will try relaxing much more.) Through tears and pain I managed to jump off the throne and back into the warm water - the jets hitting me in all of the right places. Stephen was my physical supporter and my mother (plus the friendly nurse) being my cheerleaders.
I can't remember how long it was, but I was checked again.... nearly six centimeters. I always thought I would disagree to checks , but at this point I was probably a good 21 hours into my labor and figured I had to be in transition by now. They suggested walking to the water birth suite. As I did this, I remember wondering if everyone around saw my body...was I covered up completely? I did care at that point but not enough to actually look, besides it was only a few feet anyways
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The beautiful room had two views and pretty hardwood floors. The lighting was perfect- down low and dim just the way I had envisioned they would be. The pain was getting absolutley unbearable. At that point, I was in excruciating pain,thus I was checked again. A six and a half. Nearly a seven. I was in transition! Finally!!!! The mere act of walking from the jacuzzi room to the water birth suite, jumped me from a 5 to practically a 7. This was what I needed to hear... it should be over soon. She asked if I would allow her to stretch my cervix to a 7. I was so close she thought she could. I agreed, as I trusted her.
Afterwords, I waddled to the shower next to the kidney bean shaped water birth tub. It felt like an eternity, standing there as the water hit my face and using the sprayer on my back. Pretty soon, Stephen was rubbing my back with a stick loofa and my mother was holding me up. The nurse and my mother stood at my side, while Stephen sat behind me on the shower seat. I was so tired. One can never fathom how tired you can get being in labor for about 22 hours and only sleeping four hours the night before. The OB on duty refused to let me stand there without support, so my willing mother stood next to me for a long time while I hollered in the midst of a contraction. Once it was over, she would literally hold me up. I would fall asleep so quickly that I nearly fell over. "One more contraction, Steph. You can do it. Just one more." I was so thankful for such a great support team. The OB was very supportive of our wishes, trying to get us through this naturally. In fact, one nurse tried to convince me again to take some Demerol as to take the edge off, but more so I would get some sleep. Being the stubborn person that I am, I refused. So she warned the doctor. The doctor (and the "nice nurse") told Steve "She is fine! We are going to do this until we get it right! We will try something until it works!". Being that tired, that worn out, was more unbearable than ANY amount of pain. They thought I would dilate quicker if I laid down and relaxed for a bit.
Stephen reached into my "survival box" and pulled out a ThermaCare Heat Wrap while my mother pulled down the cloth that lay around my belly to hold the fetal monitor on. I loved the cloth piece that encapsulated my tummy. It supported it well and helped with the pain. As Stephen wrapped this around my stomach, he realized it wasn't big enough. Good thing I brought two with me!!! Frantically looking, they found the second one and rigged both up so it would fit properly. The heat felt good, but I was so out of it I didn't notice it for very long. I tried different positions on the bed. I finally found something that helped the most (as much as something can when you're in the hardest part of labor!). I turned facing the back side of the bed. On my knees I leaned onto the backside, with a pillow under my head and a warm blanket covering me up. Stephen rubbed my feet while my mother rubbed my back. Both giving me support even through their presence alone. This only lasted for so long though. It seemed to stop working. They wanted me to lay down on the bed. I tried it, but it was not happening. The nurse kept saying it may help me dilate. So with that I attempted to lay there. I could only stand laying on my back half way through a contraction. There was NO way I could stay that way....not with back labor! So I flipped to my side. This was TERRIBLE! Though a little better than laying on my back but I cried and screamed out. This was THE worst part of the entire labor and delivery...laying there. I could NOT do it. It was the WORST 20 minutes of my life. I remember thinking no wonder woman who are forced to stay on their back get epidurals! It was the MOST excruciating pain I had ever felt! After begging and pleading, I jumped out of that bed as quick as I could. I HAD to be in the upright position. I HAD to have someone pushing down on my hips. It was the only way I knew I could get through these crazy back labor contractions until the water birth tub was filled.
As the tub was being filled, I knew it would take a long time but it couldn't fill up fast enough! I will admit though, the sound of the water hitting the tub took the edge of my contractions. It was like knowing that I would have my water therapy back helped me along. I stood in the shower, going through my dreamy state, to the beginning of my contractions, to crying out to Jesus at the height of them, then to falling back into a trance. The minute they said I could get into the water birth tub, I felt overjoyed! Surely, this will be over soon!
I get in. They grabbed me a pillow and placed it on the seat (which is actually used for the woman to sit on during an internal exam). I floated dead-man style while my head was rested on the pillow. Around 4:00 a.m.maybe earlier (Saturday, September 4, 2010) my moans began turning into small grunts. Was I pushing just now?? I thought to myself. Apparently I was so my mother went and got the nurse. They checked me and freaked out as i was only 8cm dilated...they didn't want me to push but I HAD TO! I agonized with the prospects of a painful back contraction, but I tried getting back into my dreamy state again. With each contraction I was pushing ever so lightly. By 5:00 a.m. the OB made her appearance. I started pushing heavily. Sometimes, I had to ask when to push. It sounds crazy, but I wanted to make sure each push was effective. (Later i learned this is common with posterior babies, the lack of needing to push after a certain point!) I was so worn out that at times I would push when it really wasn't helping any. The nurse felt my stomach. Looking and feeling to see if it was getting hard. The OB accompanied her, leading me each step of the way.
I tried so many positions. In the beginning, I made use of the handle bars inside of the tub. After an hour or so of that (flipping between floating on my belly and floating on my back), we decided to try out the "squat bar". They grabbed a large white hospital blanket (or at least that's what I thought it was at the time), pulled it through the square bar that lay connected to the ceiling and then handed it to me. I was glad to have remember this position, as I know it shortens the birth canal and I knew it would help. For hours, I would float, then grab a hold of the blanket and squats while I pushed. The doctor checking and helping me. My mother physically supporting me, behind me. Stephen's GERD (a stomach condition) came back. Great! What a wonderful time, I thought sarcastically to myself. Poor guy! He was sick. So some of the nurse staff tended to him while the others tended to me.
The tub had to be refilled mulitple times. I kept asking, “will this be over with soon?” and everyone kept saying, “you can do it!” They never once alluded to the idea that they had no idea (which I knew at that time but didn't give it more than a few seconds to think about). The water fell out of the ceiling from a large pipe. It was very hot- it had to be to regulate my temperature and the baby's well enough. I vividly remember seeing the bright red numbers on the digital clock change times. I was thankful the sleepy trance I was in. It made time go by quickly. Every time I looked up, it seemed I had been off in no-man's land because an hour would pass so quickly. Although I pushed for a total of six hours, this was the fastest part of everything (in my mind anyways).
Some long hours go bye. Finally my baby's hair is floating in the water. The doctor had me feeling his head of hair for encouragement. It brought me great joy and gave me the strength I need to get through even with major sleep depervationc, severe back labor, and irregular contractions for the last 30 hours. Pushing was taking a very long time. Contractions still weren't coming regularly. I was lucky if I was getting a contraction every six minutes at that point. Looking back now, I realize that was mother nature being kind to me. God knew I was worn out and beat, so He was giving me a break. FINALLY! I am pushing so vigorously that even more of the head is coming out. I was crowning! This IS the moment!!! I fell backwards from my squat position, with my mothers support. Stephen is called over from the bed in the midst of his sickness. Isaiah's head was coming out and there was no going back! It burned! People were not kidding when they talked about "the ring of fire!!!" I crowned for a VERY long time. I repeatedly asked, over and over again, Am I ripping??, ouch!!! Oh my gosh, I am tearing!!! The OB assured me that I wasn't. (In the end, I didn't have one tear or need cut at all. Everyone was amazed with my minor “cat scratch”, especially this being my first birth and he was sunnyside up.) Finally after crowning for a good 20 minutes to a half hour, the body emerges. Unexpectedly, the doctor tells Stephen to come over and deliver his baby. He hurried along, "caught" Isaiah and handed him to me. Isaiah Joseph Kirsch was born at 9:17 a.m. on Saturday, September 4th, 2010 after 30 hours of back labor, six hours of pushing, being 12 days overdue, and severely sleep deprived my baby was finally here!
This is what we had been waiting for! For nearly 10 months, we had been waiting to meet this precious baby through the gentlest birth I was capable of. One million things ran through my head. I was overjoyed. I was empowered. I can't put this all into words, but WOW! I was so happy I was crying. I was so worn out, I had no tears. I was so grateful all I could do for five minutes straight was say "You're finally here! You're finally here! It's been so long! I can't believe I have finally met you! FINALLY!"
I jumped out of the birth tub to deliver the placenta. Stephen seemed a little freaked by the terminal meconium that fell between my legs upon standing. Had he never said anything, I would not have noticed. Over to the bed I went for the third and final stage of the birth. I nursed Isaiah as soon as I was able to. That first time is something I will never forget. Although that was the end of my birth story, it was the beginning of a journey, a new life...
...That was, and always will be, the most amazing, most empowering wonderful experience of my life. Knowing that I did what I set out to do. Knowing that I was able to take what I learned from Bradley and turn it into a reality. That I birthed my baby instead of being "delivered from him" by a doctor. There will NEVER be anything more empowering or accomplishing in my life than giving birth to my child for 30 hours with zero intervention, no pain medication, and being 12 days overdue without an unnecessary induction or augmentation. I am so grateful and happy that I took Bradley. Nothing will EVERY compare to the day I worked so hard to meet the love of my life. What an honor...
*************************EDIT**************************
read my labor & delivery records. Turns out he was sunny side up! A posterior baby, no wonder I had extreme back labor and pushed for so long!
DH said he came out facing 2 o'clock 
yeah i never anticipated it being that long but i had to be detailed to become a child birth educator. 
Thanks 
