_________________________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: This is not a short post. I wrote my
story as an exercise in catharsis so forgive its long-windedness. It also
contains graphic descriptions, adult language and unflattering images. Continue
reading only if you are comfortable repeatedly hearing about my womanly bits.
_________________________________________________________________________________
A few weeks ago I posted my birth plan – a series of bullet
points which outlined my aspirations for the labor and delivery of Siena. The
midwives, NCT instructor, and pretty much anyone else I spoke with, warned to
be flexible with our expectations. As the saying goes, “man plans, God laughs”,
and with birth plans even more so. I hadn't realized that my birth plan might
as well have read, ‘give birth on the moon into a tub of ice-cream’. Nothing went according to plan and only one of
the dozens of people who cared for me in the hospital even glanced at that
flimsy sheet of paper.
My birth story begins on my due date, September 15th.
I woke up like on Christmas morning, anxious to see whether Santa (or in this
case, the Stork) had visited bearing gifts. Nada. We had scheduled an
appointment at the hospital that morning for what they call a membrane sweep –
where basically a midwife rams a few gloved fingers into my crotchal region
(that’s a medical term) and feels around the cervix to try to get labor going.
After that uncomfortable invasion I learned that I was 1-2cm dilated and about
halfway effaced. Exciting! We decided to walk as much as possible to stimulate
labor so we took the bus to Primrose Hill, a beautiful park in North London
with views of the city. We stopped for lunch in an Italian restaurant on the
local high street when I began to feel light cramping. Perhaps a tad overzealous,
Rob whipped out his phone with a contraction app he had downloaded weeks
earlier and started timing the “contractions”. The day proceeded with window
shopping and a walk through Regent’s Park. After a few hours of tracking sporadic,
weak cramps they all but faded, as did my hopes for a September 15th
birthday.
 |
| In Regent's Park on my due date |
Confronted with the reality that my baby would be overdue, I was desperate to move things along. Earlier, at the hospital appointment, the midwife had reviewed a list of
natural ways to induce labor and he emphasized that one proven method was
sperm. Apparently it carries some hormone that wears away the cervix or
something like that (I should have been a doctor). So, with this
thought in mind I demanded that Rob "perform". I’ll say this about the experience,
whereas sex to make a baby is sweet and romantic, sex to eject a baby is
clinical, awkward and uncomfortable.
(TMI? Apologies).
I awoke on September 16th to no baby and no
contractions. But that changed by late afternoon when I started feeling
cramping that, although mild, had a clear contraction-like pattern - starting
light, building in intensity then fading away.
I could talk through them and walk through them but I was confident I was in labor.
We called my dad and arranged for him to fly out of NY a few hours later. That
evening Rob and I walked over three miles to Kensington Gardens and through
Notting Hill determined to keep the momentum going. By the middle of the night
the contractions were getting stronger and more frequent and I knew it would be
a sleepless night. Around 1am we called the hospital. I described the pain and
frequency and the midwife said it was too soon to come in and to try to get
some sleep. The contractions were 4-5 minutes apart. I laid down, shutting my
eyes and resting between contractions and nudging Rob who laid next to me
clutching the contraction app. At 5am on September 17th, I was fully
awake, the pain too great and frequent to rest. The hospital where I delivered
is in the center of London so we decided to head over to avoid being stuck in
rush hour traffic.
I was really excited to have Siena born on September 17th
– the Jewish New Year, Rob’s onomastico (San Roberto) and even though she would be born in London I thought a 9/17 birthday was a good sign since (917) is my NYC area code. Before leaving for the hospital, and in between contractions, I put on
some makeup, a necklace, posed for one last pregnancy pic. and made sure to
grab the celebratory champagne out of the fridge.
 |
| About to become parents! |
We arrived at the hospital
and they brought me to a room in the birthing centre (just as planned!). I laid
down and an awful midwife named Shakira jammed her fingers inside me with zero
finesse then flatly announced that I was 1-2 cm dilated and partially effaced. NO
progress had been made since I was last checked on September 15th.
To say it was letdown is an understatement. They wanted to send me home
immediately but took pity and said I could stay on the labor ward until midday
when they would check for progress again. Around 11am when contractions were in
full swing, around 3 minutes apart, my father arrived directly from the airport. We
decided to go for a walk and to lunch before I would get checked again. The “walk”
to lunch was slow-moving with me stopping every few feet to clutch the nearest
tree, pole, or railing.
.JPG) |
| Rob was everything I needed and then some. |
.JPG) |
| Rob with his trusty contraction app in hand. My parents joked that I made the tree lean. |
We found a nearly empty tapas restaurant that allowed
us to sit alone in their downstairs dining room, so we would not traumatize the
other patrons. This dining experience confirmed one thing – not even full-on
labor pains will prevent me from enjoying croquetas and albondigas.
Back at the hospital a lovely midwife from Italy named Ivan
took his turn at twiddling my cookie (I mean this in a purely medical sense)
and he said that while I was further along I was still a long ways away from
delivery. So, after a sleepless night and 20 hours since contractions began, I stood in the hospital entryway in
tears holding an empty car seat and waiting for a taxi to take me home. Being
at home sucked, labor pains suck, and at two to three minutes apart they were unrelenting.
When the contractions were solidly two minutes apart and I
would rile and moan at the pain we decided to go back to the hospital. What a
fun cab ride across the city! Unlike the last trip to the hospital, this
time I did not stop to apply makeup or to take a quick pic. Instead I wore bedroom slippers and grabbed
Rob’s bathrobe which I insisted on wearing as a coat. I looked legitimately like "one flew over the cuckoo's nest" as I shuffled into the maternity ward, back to
the birthing center, and to another new midwife who would fondle my private zone.
 |
| Wearing Rob's bathrobe and heading back into the maternity wing. |
My
parents were hiding behind a curtain but could still hear as the midwife announced I
was 5 cm dilated! Yes, yes, yes, now we’re cooking with gas. After a brief run
through the birth plan it was time to settle into the birthing center and ride
out the contractions until time to push. By this time the pain of labor was at a 10. The only thing that
helped me through was Rob standing with his face inches from mine methodically
counting through each contraction. I would rock like a psychotic metronome with each count and I knew that by thirty or forty the intensity would subside
and I would feel a moment’s relief. I also tried sucking “gas and air” (not available
in the US). Gas and air makes you a little light headed and is supposed to help
with the pain. It definitely helps focus your breathing and didn’t hurt so I
went with it. After some time, I asked to go in the birthing pool. “They” say
that water helps to relieve the pain of contractions. I can safely call
bullshit on that. But it changed up the routine so I guess there’s that.
 |
|
While
in the pool, the midwife checked the baby’s heart rate, which had been a little
high at the last check. At this point it had still not gone down and she was
concerned enough to make the call that I would have to be moved from the
birthing center (natural deliveries only) to the labor ward, where the baby
could be monitored more closely.
On the labor ward a new midwife took over and
had a feel of my vajayjay. I had only gone from five to six
cm dilated. WTF! Hearing this update, I didn't miss beat in demanding the EPIDURAL! A handsome anesthesiologist named Simon came in to administer the
epidural. It was wonderful; I think I invited
Simon to Siena’s first birthday party. Rob and I finally had a rest but the
midwife had trouble tracking the baby’s heart rate which seemed to drop
frequently. At one point they tried to apply a heart rate monitor directly to
the baby’s head but that did not work. A doctor was repeatedly called in for
consultation, and I would spring awake with alarm. After about 4-5 hours with
the epidural, I was fully dilated BUT the baby’s head was too high so they said
they would wait to see if it would drop on its own. Another hour later and her head was down but “OT” which means facing the wrong way (I hope there are no
OBGYNs reading this). Her heart rate also suddenly dropped and soon there were
2 doctors in the room along with several midwives. The epidural hadn’t worn off
at all and I was numb from the waist down.
At 6am on September 18th
my legs were being hoisted into stirrups and I was told to push. I pushed for
what seemed like just a minute when they decided it was too risky to continue.
The Doctor looked at me through my spread legs and said he felt it was
important that we act quickly, move into the theatre (operating room) and try
to get her out via instrumental delivery (using either vacuum or forceps). My
head spun when I heard forceps which I understand to be a dangerous instrument
that could permanently harm the baby not to mention destroy my sacred flower. This
was the one bullet on my birth plan I would fight to preserve: Avoid forcep
delivery. I looked at Rob who just stared back at me slack-jawed. I protested
and insisted I would prefer a c-section. The doctor said that a c-section would
be too risky since they would have to first push her back in. I thought this
was the appropriate time for a quick interrogation of the doctor's credentials;
after all, I had just met the man and he was about to perform serious
procedures on my body that would affect me and Siena. I was particularly
freaked out by that fact that it was 6am, the end of the night shift and the
Doctor (hot as hell I might add) had massive bags under his eyes. I asked him
if he was tired since it was the end of his shift and whether he was feeling up
to the task of potentially cutting me open. I knew it was too late to get a
replacement doctor but hoped my frank question would startle him into alertness.
Next thing a midwife threw Rob a pair of scrubs and told him to get changed. He
was like superman – spun around and poof, scrubs on. I shouted for my mom and dad as I was rushed down the hall and as they came into view I yelled, “forceps, they’re going to use forceps!” before I was whisked into the
theatre.
Inside the theatre someone with a clipboard stood over me with consent forms
whereby I would agree to whatever procedure was necessary to deliver the baby
and to whatever complications may arise from said procedure. I lay on the
table half dead, mostly numb, completely wiped with doctors saying we must act
now BUT WAIT "please first read and consider the terms of this consent form before
signing". Again I looked to Rob who stared back in silence and I said, “I have no
choice” and signed.
First they tried vacuum delivery, where they attach a
suction to the baby’s head to try to pull her out. They told me I needed to
push with everything I had and Rob, absolutely terrified, was in my ear
begging me to push. If you’ve never tried to push with no sensation below your
waist let me tell you it’s a futile effort. Believe me I tried, and the midwife was
encouraging but I have no clue if I actually moved a muscle. After a few "pushes" and a tear in my vagina the baby went into distress again and it was c-section
time. Back came sexy Simon the anesthesiologist to administer more epidural. This
new dose of epidural left me numb from the middle of my chest down and came
with a hideous side effect: it made my arms and hands convulse uncontrollably. I
asked Rob to hold them down for me. I then braced for the sensation of pressure or pushing
but a minute later having felt nothing at all I heard a faint “congratulations”
on the other side of the cloth partition. That was it. I saw a flash of dark
hair as they brought Siena immediately over to the baby examining table
(another medical term) but there was no crying. Rob stayed with me as Siena was
poked and prodded until she let out a cry and then he went to her. He brought
her over to me and I tried to get a good look at her but my position on the table made it difficult to see her so she was taken
away again. I had imagined the baby being put on my chest immediately after the
delivery but I was wheeled to the post delivery room having still not held
Siena.
 |
A picture worth a thousand words.
Post Script: The days immediately following Siena's birth were emotional and intense. An Austrian orthopedist examined Siena's hips and callously announced "abnormal", reducing me immediately to tears, before formally diagnosing her with hip dysplasia; A sonogram of Siena's kidney's revealed potential problems that required multiple needle pricks to her tiny hands and feet and follow up testing; I spent an entire sleepless night with a revolving door of midwives aggressively pressing Siena's face against my breast while she wailed and wailed. And when I was told that the midwives would not discharge me without first being "satisfied" with my breastfeeding I looked at them and said, "Fuck the midwives, I'm done."
I've heard that after the birth of your first child love is redefined. For me this was the case but it was Rob who took my love to new depths. Through every breath and every pain he was my by my side, holding my hand, rubbing my back, holding my bag of urine when I took my first steps after surgery; and, though I looked like death warmed over, he looked at me like he did on our wedding day. We made it through the trenches together and through the experience we solidified our bond and our family. Siena is the most precious reflection of our love and we are grateful grateful to have her.
|
.JPG)
.JPG)
