Last updated on March 6th, 2024
This is a mostly positive induction story.
I’ve wanted to share Evelyn’s birth story from the moment we had her, because my labor experience with her was so unique and, honestly, quite shocking. For Evelyn’s birth, I was induced… kind of.
I’m extremely fortunate in that Evelyn and I did not have any life-threatening medical complications during labor, delivery, or postpartum, so this is essentially a positive birth story. This doesn’t mean that there weren’t moments during labor that were traumatic for me, though, and those will be shared too.
I’ve always had an urge to talk about birth.
When Evelyn was first born, I remember having the strongest desire to talk about my birthing experience. I felt this way about my first child’s birth too, and I always wonder if I’m the only one who feels this urge to talk about labor.
Talking about birth feels natural to me. Birth was a topic that I heard discussed all my life; I heard countless tales about how horrible contractions were and about the terrible burning ‘ring of fire’ from so many women I knew.
Birth brought me a sense of connection to other women.
When it was finally my turn to give birth, talking about it felt a little like a rite of passage – like a conversation that I could finally contribute to.
But more than that, giving birth gave me an immediate sense of connection (more in a spiritual sense) to other mothers, and this connection is what I desired to talk about.
This sense of connection stemmed from my newfound knowledge that mothers all over the world had felt exactly what I was feeling – the fear, pain, strength, courage, and overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness that comes with giving birth.
Just knowing that I wasn’t alone in the storm of emotions and physical pain that I was experiencing gave me a deep sense of connection to all mothers, past and present.
I remember writing my own mom a card on Mother’s Day, right after having my first baby, trying to explain with my words how much I understood her, now that I was a mom, and that I loved her all the more for it.
It still blows my mind when I think about this connection we all share.
Birth is an experience that will forever transform you.
Because here’s the thing, going through labor and delivery is an experience that completely transforms you. This is nothing you can prepare for. It’s honestly something that isn’t talked about enough, but is so true.
The you that walks into the hospital is not at all the same you that leaves it.
It’s because in that first moment that your sweet baby is placed in your arms, you are born a mother. When you look them in the eyes for the first time, marvel at their tiny toes, hold them tight against your chest and immediately know a love that you have never, ever felt before, you are forever changed.
So yeah, talking about birth is more than a rite of passage, it’s being able to say, “I get it now.”
You finally understand the definition of love at first sight and exactly what it means to say you would do anything for your baby.
This is my second birth, but first induction.
Well… now that I’ve completely gone off topic, and explained WHY talking about birth is so empowering for me, let’s talk about Evelyn’s actual birth.
Really quick though, before I dive into Evelyn’s birth story, I think it’s important to share a few facts about my first baby’s birth, just for perspective, as Evelyn is my second baby, but first induction.
My first baby, Henry, was born one day before his due date. One night, I woke up with mild contractions and by the morning, I had a baby (I promise, it wasn’t as easy as I made that sound).
Labor started on it’s own, progressed on it’s own, and was 16 hours in total. I had about 10 hours of early labor and 6 hours of active labor.
With Henry, I pushed for just 20 minutes. I had a 2nd degree perineal laceration and a cervical laceration (which I didn’t even know was a thing). Henry was a whopping 9.5 pounds and 22 inches (which was a lot for my petite frame).
My second pregnancy was just as miserable as my first pregnancy.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I don’t do well when I’m pregnant. I actually had so many people ask me if Evelyn’s pregnancy was planned, because they know I struggle so badly during pregnancy.
Evelyn’s pregnancy, similarly to Henry’s, was very physically challenging for me.
I had:
- severe vomiting and nausea in the first 15 weeks
- painful SI joints that caused me to walk with a limp
- a huge belly early on
- carpal tunnel in both wrists
- swollen feet and legs
- migraines
- low blood pressure
- anemia
As if all of that didn’t suck enough, I also had severe dizziness, lightheadedness, faintness, and a racing heart anytime I was standing, especially in the first few hours of the morning.
Having a tough pregnancy while caring for a toddler contributed to my antepartum depression.
Every single day for the second and third trimester, Henry and I would wake up and scoot downstairs on our butts because I was afraid I’d pass out with him on the steps.
I’d grab the quickest breakfast food I could think of, rush to the couch, and lay there with the TV on. I then would chug endless cups of water until I could function somewhat better (aka my blood pressure would rise enough to be able to walk), which usually wasn’t until about noon.
These symptoms caused me to spiral into a nasty depression. I felt heartbroken that ALREADY, Henry’s life was changing. The ‘activity mom’ that I once was, disappeared completely during this pregnancy.
I worried endlessly about him adjusting to his new baby sister, but figured I’d have these whole 9 months, just us, to soak it all in and prepare him for becoming a big brother. Yet there I was… couchbound with him watching TV all day, everyday, which was something I was always so mindful about prior to that point.
I felt like I would be pregnant for the rest of my life.
So all this to say… by the time my due date was approaching, I was so freaking done. I was over it; I had been over it for a long time. I was worried about my health. At that point, I honestly thought that I could give Henry MORE of me while sleep-deprived with a newborn, then I was giving now.
In the last week of my pregnancy, I truly felt that I was going to be pregnant for the rest of my life. I was absolutely miserable and deeply depressed. Physically, I was in rough shape.
My belly was painfully heavy and the pressure was getting to be too much; I’d have to hold my belly while walking or switching positions on the couch or in bed. I couldn’t physically function like a normal human being and the dizziness was getting worse each day.
I caught a terrible cold just days before my due date.
Four days before my due date, I arrived to my OB appointment very sick with a nasty cold. It was the icing on the cake to my misery. My OB could see the resignation all over my face.
At this appointment, I finally agreed to a cervical check. I had been declining them up until that point because FYI: they are useless and you are allowed to say no.
My OB offered a membrane sweep during my cervical check, which I agreed to because it helped me during labor with my first baby. Unsurprisingly, I was only about 0.5-1cm dilated, but my OB did what she could as far as a sweep goes, which wasn’t much.
I was desperate to be done, but not desperate enough to agree to induction.
Afterward, my OB sat down and said, “look, I know you’re miserable. Why don’t we go ahead and get this baby out. We can induce you tomorrow and have your baby here by the weekend”.
As much as I was desperate to be done, I declined the offer.
I hated the idea of induction and wanted to go into labor on my own. I had heard so many horror stories about inductions leading to C-Sections and that contractions are way worse with inductions. The idea of an induced birth terrified me.
I get that a lot of women choose elective inductions, but after having gone into spontaneous labor once before, I wanted that experience again. Induction seemed like such an unnatural concept to me – like I was forcing my baby to come out when she wasn’t ready.
However, there were a lot of factors that I had to consider with this offer.
But as much as the idea of induction turned me off, I also knew that I was struggling badly. I was starting to worry about my health; what if I passed out and fell on my belly or while watching Henry?
Another concern that weighed on me (no pun intended) was the size of my baby. This was actually why my OB was recommending induction in the first place. Sure, she felt bad that I was miserable (and was optimistic that being a second time mom made me a good candidate for induction), but beyond that, she was concerned about complications that can be associated with LGA (large for gestational age).
I came up with a compromise.
She knew my history. Henry was born a day early and was still 9.5lb and 22″ long and Evelyn was expected to be big too. As I mentioned, I had a cervical laceration with Henry, which led to a lot of blood loss and longer healing time.
After talking it over some more, I told her that I’d like to wait until 2 days past my due date, to give Evelyn ample time to come on her own and to give me time to fight the cold I had. She agreed with my plan, and added that she’d see me on my due date for another membrane sweep and check up.
My due date arrived with absolutely no signs of labor.
On my due date, I was at about 1cm still… no progress and no signs of labor. She did a sweep as best she could and sent me on my way.
At this point, I felt hopeless and like labor would never start, but I was honestly ready to cancel my induction. I cried to my husband, telling him that it felt unnatural and wrong to do the induction, and that maybe Evelyn just wasn’t ready yet.
But I also had a nagging feeling that going past my due date was not going to be good for my body. I was scared of both options: waiting to go into labor and also choosing the induction.
All the while, I couldn’t let go of the feelings of failure and disappointment. Why did I go into labor a day early with my first, but am now past my due date this time? The last few days of my pregnancy felt like a lifetime.
Induction day arrived and I was full of nerves.
I ended up keeping my induction appointment, all while still holding onto hope of a spontaneous labor. But I woke up on induction day (two days past my due date) with no signs of labor, so induction it was.
Full of nerves and still second-guessing my decision, I forced myself to eat breakfast, shower, and get ready.
I kissed my toddler goodbye for the next few days, refusing to get emotional in front of him. Leaving him only added to my anxiety and made me feel worse, especially because he had just caught my cold.
I knew that no matter what, I’d have to leave my toddler for a few days to give birth… but I was still sad about it. I had never been apart from him for this long before, not to mention, he was sick with a cold and fever. I knew I’d be the best one to take care of him and that he wanted me. My mom guilt was at an all time high.
But I kept telling myself, that right now, Evelyn needed me too, and that this was the first of many times that my attention would be divided between my children. And that we would all learn how to cope in the days, weeks, and months to come.
{Side Note: Now that I’ve gone through an induction, I can say that it was really, really nice to be able to eat breakfast, shower, get ready, properly say goodbye to my toddler, have childcare arranged, park the car, AND walk into the hospital PAIN FREE.
Being able to calmly fill out forms, speak with everyone on my medical team, and just be fully present during the check-in process (as opposed to doing all of this through painful contractions in the dead of night) actually brought me a sense of control again. This was something that I had felt I lost in agreeing to the induction.
I honestly would highly consider asking for an elective induction next time… if only ‘past me’ could have foreseen this, it would have saved me a lot of grief…}
10AM: The check-in process begins.
When we first arrived, I signed some forms, my nurse went over my complete medical history, and she performed a thorough physical exam. She then placed my IV catheter, drew a ton of bloodwork, and hooked up the fetal monitors on my belly.
We did all of this in the room that I would be giving birth in. It was nice to get acquainted with my nurse and my room before everything truly got started. This check-in process took a pretty good amount of time.
My OB walked me through what would happen during the induction process.
Afterward, my OB came in, performed a quick ultrasound to confirm that Evelyn was in the proper position, and started to explain how the induction would work.
She said she would first do a cervical check and quick membrane sweep (if I wanted) and then insert one dose of Misoprostol. This medication would soften my cervix and could be repeated in four hours, if needed.
After it was inserted, I would have to lay down for one hour to ensure it wouldn’t fall out, but then I would be free, and encouraged, to move about.
Once the four hours were up, I would be checked again, and possibly given a second dose OR they would go right to inserting a Foley bulb (Foley balloon) to help dilate me.
The idea of the Foley balloon terrified me.
The Foley bulb gets inserted into the cervix and filled with saline to inflate the catheter, which puts pressure on the cervix, causing it to dilate. My OB said that the goal of the Foley was to dilate me to at least 4-4.5cm.
She explained that once I got to 4-4.5cm, the Foley balloon would fall out on it’s own and Pitocin would be started IV. Pitocin would be started slowly and increased every so often, mimicking the natural surge of contractions. She reminded me that this whole process could take a day or two, and to try to relax and be patient.
I voiced my concerns and fears about the Foley balloon, adding that I hoped we could somehow avoid it. To this, my OB told me that I could have the epidural whenever I wanted; that she doesn’t have any rules about only getting it past a certain dilation, etc. and we could discuss the balloon a little bit more as things progressed.
12PM: Misoprostol (AKA induction) officially begins.
At 12pm, my OB performed a cervical check, membrane sweep, and began the first dose of Misoprostol. I was 2cm dilated and 60% effaced.
Membrane sweeps can be a bit uncomfortable, but for me, have been worth it. The sweep is nothing compared to the pain of contractions.
My nurse began an IV fluid drip to try to get ahead of my low blood pressure, and I tried to relax myself during the next hour by doing logic puzzles and chatting with my mom and my husband, who were both with me the whole time.
1PM: It was time to get my body moving and pray labor started.
Once the hour was up, I was on my feet. I ditched the hospital gown and put on the hospital-provided mesh undies (I had to ask for a pair) and a soft cotton nursing bra (my favorite ever) so I could feel free and comfortable to move about.
I highly recommend doing this! I felt more like ‘me’ and didn’t have the stupid huge gown hindering my movement. I personally think it’s pointless to buy a fancy hospital gown to bring to labor because they just get absolutely disgusting and covered in so many bodily fluids.
I requested a medicine ball and began moving my hips in wide circles, trying to open up my pelvis and will labor to start. I’d alternate between this and pacing three feet in either direction, as I was hooked up to the IV and fetal monitor. But I didn’t stop moving once during the next three hours.
I kept willing baby girl to PUSH against my cervix. I envisioned my body opening, opening, opening; hips spread wide, wiggling back and forth on the medicine ball, trying to make room for her to descend.
I spoke to her quietly, saying, “I’m in this with you and I’m ready for you. You are so loved and I can’t wait to meet you. We will do this together.”
RELATED: Unsure what to pack in your hospital bag? Check out this post, detailing ONLY the things that you actually need for your hospital stay.
After awhile, I noticed mild contractions were starting.
And miraculously, I began to feel a little pain, eventually. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t speak a word about it; I didn’t want to jinx it.
I just kept breathing deeply to stay relaxed, opening my hips to give her room, and repeating the same single word in my mind: “open, open, open“.
{Side Note: This is actually something that stuck with me from reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth.
There was one birth story that included a woman who needed to dilate more, and was instructed to picture her body opening up wide. The author describes how she suddenly dilated HUGELY, like even past 10cm, and attributed it to the woman’s mental will. I know it sounds a bit out there, but hey, I was willing to try it.
The author actually has a bunch of examples of women dilating to a certain point, but then having an uncomfortable experience (someone they dislike entering a room, being roughly checked for dilation, etc.) and suddenly becoming less dilated.
According to this book, there seemed to be a lot pointing to the laboring woman’s comfort level (mentally) going hand in hand with the progression of labor.
I found this SO interesting and kept it at the forefront of my mind during early labor with Evelyn. I tried to keep my mind in a good space and use the techniques described in the book.}
Was I crazy, or were these contractions suddenly getting stronger?
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining the whole thing… but it felt like the pain was intensifying as 4pm was drawing near (which is when the Misoprostol dose would be ‘done’).
But that’s the crazy thing about labor… it’s very hard to tell if your pain is getting worse, until it is. And even when it is getting worse, you aren’t able to tell if it’s at it’s peak or not.
I think this is what causes so many of us to suddenly panic about handling the pain – you just have no sense of how deep the well of pain will go, how quickly it will escalate, or how long it will last.
It’s scary and overwhelming, and is probably why so many women opt for the epidural. It’s the fear of the unknown that gets us.
I remember with my first, I was absolutely sure they would come in and tell me I was already 7cm dilated when I arrived at the hospital, because the pain was so severe and they were like, “umm… you are 3cm, go home; this isn’t even active labor and this could last for days”. (That’s a story for another day – because I refused to go home and had a baby a few hours afterward).
With the pain building, I felt most comfortable standing up, so I stood and swayed and made low moans through the contractions I was having. This is how my OB found me when she came to check on the Misoprostol.
4:30PM: Misoprostol was finished, and it turns out I had barely progressed.
She seemed surprised to see me in early labor like this, and I was secretly excited to get checked – I knew there just had to be progress due to all of the regular contractions I was having. I told her my pain level was a 2/10 at this point; still very manageable.
At 4:30pm, she performed a cervical check and noted that I was 2.5cm and 60% effaced… Are you kidding me? After 4 hours… that’s it? Half a centimeter of progress?! I tried to not be discouraged and reminded myself to stay optimistic, but damnit, I was annoyed.
We chatted about pain control options I would use later on before proceeding with the next step of induction.
My OB then started to discuss pain control with me. After going over my options, I opted to have the epidural needle placed when the anesthesia team became available, but elected not to administer any medications until I needed them.
I read a lot of books about unmedicated labor, and figured I’d see how things went this time around. I didn’t care either way which option I chose, but wanted the epidural available, ready for use if need be.
I had an epidural with my first, and enjoyed it, because I could still feel enough to effectively push, but it was a relief from the abdominal pain of contractions.
I absolutely did not want to have the Foley balloon placed.
My OB left, reminding me that she would be back soon to insert the Foley balloon and shortly after, we would begin Pitocin. The main thought in my head at this time was: “no. nope. nuh-uh. not happening. no way.” I didn’t want that damn Foley. I decided that I was willing to beg if it came to that.
While she was away, I silently willed my baby and my body to keep progressing. I kept swaying and then leaning on the bed rails during contractions, groaning through the pain; all while speaking kind words to Evelyn.
There was no doubt in my mind that contractions were quickly getting stronger.
During this next hour, my pain started to increase pretty drastically, but I still kept silent about it. I didn’t want to jinx it because I knew that more pain was a ‘good thing’ in labor; it meant progress was being made.
This is actually a thought that I repeated to myself often during labor and learned through reading books about unmedicated births… Our whole lives, we learn that pain = bad; pain means illness, injury, trauma, etc. So when we feel pain during labor, we just automatically get scared due to our association with pain.
Remembering that labor pain = safe pain, helped calm my nerves.
But despite all of this, I began to have doubts about my ability to handle the pain. It was escalating at an alarming rate. I was determined to push through for as long as possible, only to avoid the risk of stalling out my already slow dilation, but knew I wouldn’t be holding out much longer.
The pain was starting to overwhelm me, so I leaned into my birthing mantras.
After a bigger contraction, I quietly told my husband that I needed my birthing mantras read to me, something we had discussed and planned for in advance.
My husband began to recite the birthing mantras that I chose in the weeks leading up to labor and I will never forget this moment.
His steady, soothing voice combined with the powerful words that I knew millions of women around the world had had whispered to them during moments exactly like the one that I was experiencing, brought tears to my eyes.
He read,
“Women all over the world are birthing with me.
Good strong contractions help my baby come into this world.
My body will work and my baby will fit.
My body and my baby know what to do.
My body and my baby are healthy and strong.
My body will give birth at the exact right moment.
My body is strong and it is capable.
I grew this baby, I can birth this baby.
I trust my body, it knows what to do.
I am prepared for any turn my birthing takes.
Inhale strength, exhale fear.
Smile, breathe, and sway your baby down.
Relax your jaw. Relax your hands. Drop your shoulders.
I was made to do this.”
This beautiful moment helped remind me that I could do this.
I was able to dig deep and overcome my fear through his calming, confident voice and beautiful words. The mantras helped me stay relaxed and grounded; in them, I found the courage to stay iron-willed and fierce in my determination to get through this labor.
His words reminded me that I was safe and that Evelyn was safe. That my body was made to do this and that he was here, with me. That he was feeling my pain and that I wasn’t alone. That he loved me and he was proud of what I was doing to bring our baby into the world.
I could see all of these thoughts and emotions radiating off of him as he read to me. And I don’t know if I’ve ever loved him more. He reminded me how completely capable and strong I was and that he recognized the sacrifice that I was making in bringing our daughter into the world.
I knew in that moment, that I was ready to do whatever it took to bring our baby into the world, whatever that meant. I had a sense of calm that no matter what obstacle was thrown our way, I could and would handle it, for our baby.
5:30PM: I couldn’t believe my luck – I got to avoid the Foley!
At 5:30pm, my OB came back in, preparing to insert the Foley balloon. She began with a cervical exam and much to my delight, I was about 4-4.5cm and I did NOT have to have the Foley!!! I wanted to cry happy tears, I was overjoyed with relief.
The pain was getting much more intense at this point, and my nurse could tell. She reassured me that it wouldn’t be much longer until anesthesia arrived to place the epidural.
I told her that I wanted to begin medication at the time of the epidural placement at this point. I had a nagging feeling that my labor was going to be FAST and knew that it was time for the epidural now or never.
In between contractions, I had a small argument with my nurse about starting Pitocin.
While we were waiting for anesthesia to arrive, my nurse said it was also time to start Pitocin. I actually begged her not to start it. I said, “my body seems to be doing it on it’s own, can’t we wait and see?”.
I was actually afraid that the Pitocin would send my contractions over the edge, or be ‘bad’ for my body somehow- they were already progressing so quickly and were very intense.
In my head, I was envisioning my uterus rupturing with the pressure of the medication on top of my body’s own will. I know this sounds ridiculous and is not a thing that happens, but it was a very real fear that I had at the time.
She replied, not too kindly, “no, the whole point of an elective induction, is that you agreed to actually be induced”.
I immediately saw red, I was pissed. Especially because this elective induction NEVER even felt like my choice to begin with; I felt pressured into it from the beginning; LGA didn’t feel ‘elective’ to me.
I was furious. If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m very stubborn, very feisty, very strong-willed, and I do not back down when I know I’m right. My temper flared hot at her curtness and I thought, ‘Fuck that, it’s not happening, even if I have to rip this IVC out of my arm’.
My number one piece of labor advice is to trust your gut.
I just KNEW that this was labor, that it was happening perfectly on it’s own, and that my body didn’t need help anymore. I had complete faith in my body’s ability to bring my baby into the world without any additional medical intervention.
I don’t know how I knew this, but I believed it with every fiber of my being. I would have bet any number of dollars on this gut feeling.
I just somehow knew what my body was doing and could tell my baby would be here soon. I felt the exact same way with my first baby’s birth (which is why I refused to leave the hospital when they told me to, initially).
That is my one biggest piece of advice in labor: trust. your. instincts.
Women were literally created to give birth and so much of it is instinctual. The way your body seems to just know how to sway and rock with the pain, how your voice knows how to make deep, low, moans as an outlet for the pain. Just like your body knows exactly how to push a baby out.
Your body knows this. Trust it.
6:00PM: Anesthesia arrives to place my epidural.
Luckily, my nurse got busy assisting others while going to get the Pitocin, so I was off the hook for the time being with that argument.
At 6:00pm, the anesthesia team finally came in to prep for my epidural. We discussed the effects of epidurals at length and I told them many times, that I was very fearful of the medication dropping my blood pressure to dangerous levels, because it was already 99/54.
I explained that with Henry’s birth, they ran my epidural at what they called ‘three-quarter strength’ and even then, it tanked my BP and they kept having to give me medication through my IV to help stabilize it.
They agreed to run it even lower than last time, saying that if even at “3/4 strength” my BP was that affected, they ought to start even lower, with the idea that I could always increase it when I need to.
They kept making jokes that the anesthesia team was going to laugh at them for how low they were running it and would wonder if they were making a mistake. But I said, well, like you said, we can always turn it up if we need to. (Spoiler: jokes on me on this one…).
Being told to sit down and sit still during labor is excruciating and almost impossible.
In hindsight, I actually THINK I mostly regret the decision to get an epidural, because prior to this point, I was handling the pain pretty well, swaying and moving and staying focused. But them making me stay still and sit down during contractions to place the epidural, sent my pain overboard.
I’m sure I’m not alone in this feeling: but for me, sitting down puts so much pressure on my pelvic area that it is absolutely excruciating. It’s almost impossible to even do.
I remember the anesthetist took one look at me, and then looked at my nurse and was like, “how dilated did you say she was? Because this right here, is active labor; look at her shaking”.
It’s really common to get the shakes during labor, and with both of my babies, the shakes started during my epidural placement.
I begged my nurse to help hold me still because I was shaking so violently and was in so much pain with each contraction, fighting the instinct to move.
6:45PM: The epidural is officially in and medication is started.
By 6:45pm, the epidural was in. Since it was almost 7pm, the shifts changed, and I got a new nurse, who turned out to be amazing.
I met my new nurse, who took one look at me and said, “Clearly, I’m going to cancel the Pitocin order, it looks like we don’t need it”. I couldn’t believe my luck, again! She said she would like to do a cervical check, if that was okay, and I agreed.
7:10PM: During my cervical check, my nurse accidentally broke my water.
At 7:10pm, my nurse performed a cervical check, and much to our surprise, accidentally ruptured my membranes. The only way I can describe it is that it EXPLODED everywhere. It shot out all over her and my room. The sheer volume was out of control.
After delivery, my nurse explained that I had undiagnosed polyhydraminos, which is an overabundance of amniotic fluid.
She registered that I was 5.5cm and 70% effaced. I again, felt a bit discouraged. I figured I’d be closer to 10cm by then based on the level of pain I had. Dilation progression drives me crazy during labor.
Once my water broke, my pain level increased tenfold.
After she cleaned me up (I gushed a waterfall for 10 minutes straight), I immediately was in so much pain. I figured that the epidural just needed more time, because initially, it had taken some of the edge off of my abdominal pain.
But it wasn’t helping now. My nurse instructed me to rotate sides to try to distribute the medication along my right side more, as this was the more painful side. So I positioned myself so that my right side was down, in hopes that it would help.
Switching sides did nothing to alleviate my pain, and I was beginning to feel the urge to push already.
At this point, the epidural was not working like I had hoped, but that wasn’t my only concern. I was starting to feel the most intense, undeniable pressure down there and wanted to push.
Aside from pushing out a baby, I have never in my life experienced the amount of intense and heavy pressure as I did in this moment. Through contractions, I frantically tried to explain to my nurse that I still felt pain everywhere and that it felt like I needed to push; there was so much pressure down there.
The new anesthetist refused to turn up my already very low epidural.
She brought in anesthesia (a new person this time) who didn’t even take one look at my face or my agony; only my blood pressure, and said, “no”. I have never felt so helpless.
I wanted to cry and scream at how unfair the decision was, and explain that this isn’t what I agreed to, and that my doctor said I could have it whenever I wanted it… but I didn’t even have the ability to argue, like I wanted to. I was using every single muscle in my body to deal with the contractions and to clench my body from pushing.
(After delivery, my OB actually deeply apologized about this, and said if she had been in the room, she absolutely would have had them increase the epidural because she knows how important mom’s emotional wellbeing is in labor and that she would have just gave me medication to raise my blood pressure to combat it. This made me feel a little better, knowing that she would have honored my wishes, but it is what it is.)
At 5.5cm, my body was doing everything it could to try to push with my contractions.
As contractions kept surging through my body, I could feel my hold loosening as far as resisting the urge to push goes.
Through contractions, I tried to tell my nurse that I really, really, really needed to push. Like, NOW. I frantically explained that I had been clenching and holding back pushing for a long time now and to please check me NOW, because I didn’t know how much longer I could hold back.
She told me that I absolutely could not push because I was only 5.5cm just a little bit ago. I tried to squelch the rising panic at her words, but I couldn’t get it under control. I was spiraling, bad.
My thoughts were spinning at me so fast. ‘What if I push now? What will happen to us? Will it be bad for Evelyn? Will she tear through my body or get stuck? Will it make the placenta or my uterus rupture if I push early? Will she be okay? Will I be okay? My God, I need to push. WTF is even happening with my body? I need to push. I can’t hold on much longer. WTF WTF WTF’.
I was clenching every muscle I had in me, not to push. I kept telling the nurse over and over. ‘I need to push, I need to push, I need to push’. I just remember laying there with my eyes closed, repeating those four words over and over, wondering if she was listening and hearing the urgency in my voice.
{Side Note: I later learned that this is called EPU (early pushing urge).
“Early pushing urge (EPU) is defined as the perception of the irresistible urge to push by the labouring woman before full cervical dilatation, confirmed by vaginal examination. Although different incidence rates are reported in the literature (from 7.6 to 54%), a significant minority of childbearing women seem to experience the EPU phenomenon during labour” (British Journal of Midwifery).
“The impact of telling a woman not to push when her body is pushing also needs to be considered. Once the baby is applying pressure to the nerves in the pelvis that initiate pushing, the woman is unable to control the urge. Attempting not to push at this point is like trying not to blink or breathe.
In addition, telling a woman not to push when her body is instinctively pushing suggests that her body is wrong, and that she needs to resist her urges. After resisting her body’s urges, she may find it difficult to switch into trusting and following her body once given the ‘go ahead’ (Bergstrom et al 1997).
Encouraging a woman not to push when she is instinctively pushing can be distressing and disempowering for her.” (MidwifeThinking.com)}
I absolutely panicked, as my body involuntarily started to push.
And suddenly, I had a huge contraction and opened my eyes to see my uterus contract around the outline of my baby, and PUSH on it’s own. My body was pushing involuntarily and there was no stopping it.
I absolutely panicked to my nurse and said, “oh my God, my body is pushing on its own. Am I still not dilated enough? I’m scared. I can’t stop it. What do I do?”
My nurse was laser focused on the baby’s monitor and instructed me to flip to my left side, eyes never leaving the monitors. I replied, in agony, eyes closed “do I have to?”.
I truly did not think I could move, for the pain was everywhere. It was taking all of my focus to hold it together, plus I was still clenching. The thought of moving even an inch, was agony.
And I’ll never forget the force and finality in her one word reply, “yes”. I knew right then that something wasn’t right. I immediately flipped to my side and she was frantically checking the monitor on my belly, with another nurse at her side.
At that point, she told me that I needed to let go and to stop clenching, so I did. I stopped holding back and the relief was immediate…
But then a whole team of people came flooding in.
A team of people came flooding in my room and I thought I was going to pass out.
At this point, all of the nurses and an OB (or two?) are talking together, staring at the monitors and moving around me. My nurse said, very firmly, “you need to get on all fours NOW“.
I didn’t hesitate for a second, and heaved myself over to all fours on the bed. I don’t even know how, but I’m assuming the epidural effects was completely gone or just never there in the first place, I don’t even know.
I was on all fours with my eyes closed, and there were people all around me. I told anyone that was listening, “I feel hot in my face.” It was the only words I could use at the time to explain that I felt like I was going to pass out.
Someone started applying a cold, wet cloth to my head and face. I still had no idea what the hell was happening and I was wondering if this was how emergency C-Sections or tragedies start.
It felt like things were out of control and I was terrified, but too physically unwell to even ask the necessary questions.
Are we okay?
All that I could say to express what I was feeling, were the same few words over and over and over, “are we okay, is she okay, am I okay, are we okay, is she okay, am I okay?“. I just kept repeating this until someone could help me make sense of what was happening.
And one of the angels of a nurse that was helping, held my hand in a firm grip, and looked me right in the eyes and said, “All I need you to do is breathe so that you WILL be okay. If you don’t breathe, baby can’t breathe. I need you to breathe, NOW.”
At this point, John is by the head of my bed, silently crying, and looking terrified, which freaked me out even worse. I then was wondering, ‘am I not breathing well? Why is she asking me to breathe?’
This nurse coached my breathing, inhales and exhales, mimicking the breathing alongside me, holding my hand in a vice. She made me look straight into her eyes and breathe with her. I slowly felt myself calming a little.
To this day, I am so thankful for this human being, and I don’t even know her name. I have no words for it, for the strength and confidence that she bestowed on me in that moment.
She calmed my panic in one of the scariest moments that I’ve experienced. I decided to hold onto her like a lifeline and not let go. I focused only on her face, breathing alongside mine.
What is even happening right now?
I was so thankful that my epidural was doing absolutely nothing so that I could hold myself up on all fours like they wanted.
I had my nurse to my right, scanning my belly for Evelyn’s heartbeat. I had my angel of a nurse on my left, holding my hand and breathing with me. I had John at my left, by my head, crying, in so much fear and panic over us. I knew my mom was in the room somewhere, and I worried that this was scaring her, too.
I don’t know how many people were behind me, but I know one OB had her hand inside me. I can only assume she was checking my dilation throughout all of this, nonstop, or maybe she was manually stretching me to dilate the rest of the way (is that even a thing?).
I don’t know if they were checking other things too, like her cord? I honestly don’t know, I just know that she never removed her hand the whole time that I was on all fours and I didn’t even notice any pain at all. None.
8:15PM: All of a sudden, it was time to push.
Suddenly, the OB who had her hand inside me, instructed, with almost military precision, “you need to flip to your back, NOW, you need to push, NOW“.
I sobbed, “are you sure? I’m scared, I’m not dilated enough, are you sure it’s okay now? Is it safe to push?”, all while everyone is flipping me over and spreading my legs open.
She quickly assured me I was ready and we need to go NOW, so I pushed with everything in me.
The pushing was absolute sweet relief. It felt immensely good to push after holding back for so long. The pushing was almost immediately accompanied by a severe, sharp burning. The ‘ring of fire’. I remember thinking, “oh God, oh God, it’s the ring of fire. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Get her out of me, NOW“.
It felt like my skin was being torn, everything felt hot and on fire. But in a split second, it was gone.
In less than 2 minutes of pushing, Evelyn was out. All of the pain evaporated, as did my fear from the past hour.
She was perfect and completely healthy; crying so loudly. They placed her on my chest and I cried with her, saying, “you’re so beautiful, I love you, you’re so beautiful.”
Evelyn was born 8lb 9.2oz and 19.5″ long at 8:17PM.
My beautiful greeting felt a little less magical due to my shock.
My mind felt torn in two different directions immediately after birth. One side of me, was basking in this beautiful moment, but the other side of me, was just like, “what the actual fuck just happened?“
And honestly? I think a lot of us feel a bit like this after birth. You envision this beautiful photo-worthy moment, where you finally see your sweet baby’s face, and you’re laughing and crying and hugging your baby…
But in reality, your body is in shock at what it just did to bring your baby Earth side and you are exhausted… and you are actually in a super awkward position in the bed, sitting with your chest too low to properly hold your baby, because you’re still delivering your placenta and being assessed for possible stitches (luckily I had only one stitch this time).
Mentally, you are fried from coping with pain and everything else for the last however many hours (and the pain is actually not over yet). And also, you are wondering if it’s normal for your baby to look slightly purple-ish and if they should be crying so much? And you are mentally preparing yourself for whatever freaking damage was just done to your previously perfect vagina (because they won’t just tell you about it right when you’re in the middle of meeting your baby).
RELATED: Check out this post to learn how you can prepare yourself for healing postpartum.
It’s really normal to have all of these thoughts.
If you are expecting, or you have experienced this yourself, just know that it is very normal for you to not ONLY be overcome with lovely thoughts and feelings about your new baby. It’s perfectly okay if you are also a little mute or dazed as your mind and body race to catch up to what it just accomplished.
It’s okay if you didn’t immediately have this awe-inspiring greeting with your baby. There will be plenty of time for making beautiful promises to your baby, taking a million wonderful pictures, and marveling at their perfection, I promise.
I know that I had experienced trauma during Evelyn’s birth.
Evelyn was born at 8:17pm.
I was 5.5cm at 7:10pm. I went from 5.5cm to 10cm, AND pushed my baby out, in one hour.
Active labor is considered 6-10cm; this meant that I had, at most, one hour of active labor. About three hours of consistent early labor (around 4pm-ish to 7:10pm). So that would mean about 4 hours of labor, total.
Whenever I tell people about how quickly Evelyn arrived, every single person says “lucky you”… meaning, ‘lucky you for not having a million hours of painful contractions’. This comment frustrates me though, because anyone who has had a speedy labor, knows that it can be traumatic to experience.
Your mind does not have time to catch up to your body. And if there are strange complications like mine, with the early urge to push and the deceleration in Evelyn’s heartrate, it adds to the trauma even more.
I didn’t get any answers from my labor nurse.
While recovering in my delivery room, I asked my nurse what happened. I told her that I felt scared during the last hour of labor and it seemed really intense in my room, with all the people rushing around me.
I loved my nurse, but it frustrates me that she brushed me off and just said, “You and Evelyn were always completely fine and I was never worried. Evelyn experienced a dip in her heartrate because she made a big, big drop inside your body. Big movements from baby can do that.”
I think a more thorough explanation would have helped me process my labor experience better.
My husband also experienced trauma.
Once we made it to our postpartum room, my husband and I just sat in silence for awhile, both in shock and still trying to process what just happened, all while also loving on and caring for our perfect baby girl.
We felt infinitely happy at her arrival, but also still very anxious, constantly reliving the past few hours’ events in our heads. I actually had a few panic attacks in the hospital postpartum (maybe that’s just a ‘me’ thing, because I had them with my first, too.)
The next morning, my husband looked at me and said, “never again”. I knew exactly what he meant without him having to explain, because I was thinking the exact same thing. No more babies for us.
We were both really freaked out by the turn of events. It might sound silly to anyone reading this that wasn’t in the room. I’m sure all some will see is that we didn’t have any life-threatening medical complications… no C-Section, no forceps, no oxygen masks… nothing. So why fret?
But we both really did feel traumatized by the last hour of labor. For a very long time, we even talked about scheduling a vasectomy, because we were resolute that we would never put my body through that again.
Now, we aren’t so sure. A third baby isn’t out of the question anymore. Funny how time does that to you… time combined with nostalgia for the newborn phase.
Evelyn is absolutely worth every single hardship and struggle a thousand times over.
Despite having gone through a pregnancy surrounded by physical hardships combined with antepartum depression and a wild labor experience… I would 100% do it again in a heartbeat for my baby girl.
She stole my heart immediately, and fits right into our family perfectly. She has forever changed my life and made me a stronger, better mom in this past year.
All of my worries over Henry adjusting to his new big brother role, were for nothing. He was meant to be a big brother. My heart exploded the first time Henry held her; a moment I will never forget.
It’s these beautiful moments that make me want to do it all over again.
Our family still doesn’t feel complete. I guess time will tell what our future holds. For now, we are still (a year later) adjusting to life with two children (FYI: it’s wild iykyk).
Thank you for reading my story.
So, that’s it. That’s my story. Thank you for taking the time to read my words, I know that this was a long one.
Sharing my story has helped me process my feelings. If you are struggling to make sense of your labor experience, I encourage you to share your story, too.
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