The next thing I knew I was being wheeled down the hallway in a wheel chair and as the next contraction hit, my screams ricocheted off the walls and I sobbed like a 4-year-old, half from the pain, half from the defeat I felt in moving from the birthing center to labor and delivery for the epidural. Everything was a blur, but I knew one thing – once the decision was made to get the epidural so I could rest and to help Bodhi shift, I could not get it fast enough.
I was put on a skinny, tall hospital bed, so different from the big comfy hotel bed of the birthing room, and they had me sit up to get the epidural, which was unbelievably painful. They told me to tuck my chin and arch my back, but as another contraction hit, this was impossible. I writhed and screamed in pain as Sharon
For about an hour or so, I slipped in and out of a quiet realm. After resting a bit, Liz came back in, “Are you ready to push?” I was still so tired, but definitely felt better than I had before, that’s for sure, more focused with the pain at bay. I nodded yes and Sharon
The books are right - you can’t feel much with the epidural. However, honestly, when I was in such excruciating pain in the birthing center, I couldn’t feel what I was doing either - everything was just so overwhelming that I couldn’t concentrate in the eye of such pain. I found ironically that the epidural helped me to relax and focus on the midwife’s instructions and feel centered and not sucked up into the tornado of pain.
She had me lay on my back while Jimmy and Sharon stood on either side and pulled my knees up – the classic labor position. Immediately, it didn’t feel right. It was awkward and felt ineffective. I kept saying, “I need some momentum – can’t I sit up a little?” I was immediately told no. I hated pushing on my back like that – it just felt like I wasn’t doing anything at all.
Then, Liz said she wanted to administer Pitocin because the contractions had slowed. No!!!! Pitocin was the epitome of everything I didn’t want. With so many bad side effects and problems, many books might as well have called it devil juice. I said, “I REALLY don’t want it.” This was in my birth plan too and once again, it seemed like Liz had not read this at all. Both Liz and Sharon convinced me that if I wanted the pushing to be effective, I needed a little Pitocin. I cried, starting to really regret getting the epidural. No matter how much better I felt, it seemed like I was starting to lose control of everything.
With their persistence, I finally agreed to the most minimal amount of Pitocin possible, just enough to get the contractions going. It was just like those documentaries said – a snowball effect of intervention. Once administered, they told me to breathe deeply and then hold my breath as I pushed. This also felt very counter intuitive. All I wanted to do was a long, deep yogic ujjai exhale with each push. Through habit because of all my yoga, I did this accidentally a couple of times and Liz reprimanded me, “Don’t exhale! Hold your breath!” It was so hard not to breathe, but I followed her directions as best as I could.
It didn’t seem like I was making much progress and I heard Liz say, “I have to go deliver another baby. I’ll be back.” I knew then that she must not think this baby was going to come out for awhile and I felt really extremely discouraged by this. Plus, in a small way, I felt like I was being abandoned.
The good thing is the nurse, Helen took over and I loved her. She was so nice and assuring and I hoped the baby would just come while she was there and Liz was gone since I connected more with her. We did about another hour of pushing with me resting in between the contractions. During each rest, I came back to my Gayatri mantra again, but this time chanting it really softly and slowly, almost a whisper. What a huge difference in the way it sounded now in the silence between pushes while everyone stood around quietly compared to my screaming, undecipherable rendition earlier during my un-medicated labor.
Liz came back, uttering something about delivering the baby in the other room and I was instantly overcome with jealously that someone else’s baby had come out already and so quickly! I had never once asked, “How close?” during the entire labor. I had wanted to be in the moment as much as possible and not think about numbers, dilation, hours, etc. I had been riding out the moment and each wave like a labor surfer and not thinking about what was next. But, this is when I started to feel like something might be wrong.
Liz gave me permission to squat – finally!!! They attached a squat bar and every time a contraction hit, Jimmy and Sharon hoisted me up. And boy, did I squat! I bore down with all my might. I squatted and swayed my hips and pushed and grimaced with all the energy and power I had and then some. I finally felt somewhat back in control again. I thought, “This is it, I can do this!” And I really believed it. I had never felt so primal and so womanly. A while later, I heard Helen say, “There’s her head!” I heard Jimmy say, “Oh my god! She has so much hair!” This really changed everything for me and got me so excited. We were close! I was going to do this!
I kept squatting, pushing, squatting, clenching, and collapsing in between each session and nodding off in delirious exhaustion. This went on for awhile. Around 9 p.m., Liz said, “we’ll give it another hour.” I didn’t even know why she said this because I was about to push this baby out! We could see her head! I was squatting! It wouldn’t take an hour – what was she talking about? I knew she would be born by tonight, I knew my baby’s birthday was going to be July 17th. I could just feel it. I continued to squat and sway and bore down even more, tapping into my inner reserve like never before. I pushed and pushed until it felt like everything down south would just fall out. Then I vaguely heard someone say something about a fever.
Evidently I was the one with the fever and they were concerned. Then I heard Liz say, “We’re done.” She got up and walked away and I looked at the clock: 10:30 p.m. My contractions had started at 12:30 a.m. that morning. I had been pushing since the birthing center that early afternoon. I knew it was time for another plan. She said she was calling the doctor and said something about forceps. I thought, “Okay, okay, he can still get her out, we can still do this.” Helen said we’d meet him in the OR. Wait…what? I said, “But is he doing forceps?” Helen said, “Possibly, but we need to prep you in case he decides to take her by C-section.”
And with that statement, I lost it. I let out a wail and couldn’t stop crying. All the exhaustion, all the pain, all the pushing and now there could be a C-section? This could not be happening. After all of that? After 22 hours of labor? After them seeing her head? But, she was so close! Why wasn’t she coming out? This was everything I had wanted to avoid, everything I had feared. Jimmy and Sharon said, “We just need to get this baby out and make sure you’re okay.” I looked into their eyes and knew they were right, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. The 24 hour mark was looming since my water broke and I knew the hospital wouldn’t let me go past that because of increased risk of infection. That coupled with my severe exhaustion and my fever – it just wasn’t looking good.
I looked at Emily, “Pray for us - pray for me and the baby.” I couldn’t stop crying. I was scared. Everything was just happening so fast. She was crying too, “I will, I will.” Then, the next thing I knew, overhead lights blurred by as I was wheeled through the hallways and elevators, this time flat on my back in the hospital bed. Nurses in face masks hovered over me and I thought, This is it. Surgery. But the extreme exhaustion trumped my resistance - I couldn’t fight it or argue. I just wanted for Bodhi to be out and everything to be okay. More than anything, I just wanted sleep.
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