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Feeling Quiet
Shelby is almost two: her birth story
This time two years ago I was curled up on my side in my warm bath tub, breathing with Mandy in an Aikido breathing pattern we had learned at the Larry Bieri sensei seminars. We sounded silly, counting in Japanese. Mandy sat in the dark bathroom with me, helping me breathe. In between my soft moans we giggled. My Greyhound Atticus kept sticking his long worried nose into the bathroom, moaning quietly along with me. My contractions were less than a minute and a half apart from start to finish. Sometimes I bit down on a washcloth..
Where was my dear husband, the father of the baby I was laboring with? Downstairs, cleaning our leather sleeper couch so it would be nice and pristine when his mother came to stay with the girls. (BTW, this was the last time it was cleaned).
Eventually, my oldest daughter went downstairs and told my husband that I REALLY was in labor and if we didn't want the baby born unexpectedly at home--like my mother had my little brother--or in the car--like my sister had her last son--that he needed to go pick up Grandma. He still dilly-dallied around until I said rather urgently he needed to LEAVE and GET HER. Mandy and I walked up and down the street, stopping whenever a contraction came on. Atticus walked beside me, his sweet long face upturned the whole time. My sweet Hairy Man Dog would stop and lean against me, supporting me when a contraction came on. Mandy would hold my hand. Tabby was anxious.
Pretty soon I was actively resisting the impulse to squat and push. Grandma came, I kissed Tabitha and Mandy goodbye, and we headed off to the hospital. (The girls were invited but chose not to come). Dave was driving rather normally. It was two AM and I started telling him to NOT stop at the stoplights if no one was coming. I felt rather strongly about this, panting and huffing like the Little Steam Engine That Could. He dropped me off at the Emergency Room entrance fifteen minutes later and left to park the car. The ER nurse took one look at me and said, "Don't have your baby in my ER. Don't have it in the Elevator." She put me in the elevator and up we went. I don't remember when Dave appeared, but I do remember walking and squatting and leaning against the walls, acutely uncomfortable while trying to give the admitting nurse all the information she needed. I remained polite and sweet,although I felt like biting a body part off as she kept asking me questions that I had answered before. Why had we done the pre-admission stuff, anyway?
I'd just been at the hospital OB surgical unit the day before to have my cerclage removed. Shelby was almost 6 weeks early. I knew she was definitely coming then. It seemed very hard to stay in the brightly lit room and get undressed and allow the nurse to examine me. I just wanted to be in the dark and left ALONE. I was seven and a half cm. Eventually I padded barefoot down the hall to the labor room. They promised me a hot shower, but for some reason the hospital had turned off all the hot water overnight. The Very Earnest and Young OB resident showed up, badgering me that she wanted me to get an IV. She wanted an internal monitor. I refused politely. She kept badgering, I kept refusing. She said that it was Important. I mentioned I had not had one last time and I was just as high risk then as I was now. The High Risk OB had told me I did not have to have one. The High Risk Pregnancy Center (The Seatan Center) supported me. My dear husband supported me, just as politely repeating all the things I said. Eventually she went away. My perinatalogist came in, said it was fine if I didn't want an IV or an internal monitor. The Resident wandered off. My husband sat next to me feeding me popsicles and keeping my forehead cool. I labored for a while since contractions always slow down at the hospital, sucking on orange popsicles for pain relief and distraction and listening to Nature tapes.
I do not remember transition at all. Before I knew it the High Risk OB was there, peering nicely at me between my legs and telling me that there was meconium and I needed to get the baby out. I struggled to get in a more vertical position but didn't manage very well. I did not manage to squat like I did with Tabby. My husband asked the OB nurse not to chant push-push-push or to count, since that irritates me when I am in labor. She then (not taking the hint that I needed silence) kept saying inanely, "Just do what feels natural. " I did not, of course, since that would have involved smacking her. I do remember at one point whimpering "Help me, " and then screaming once or twice, and little Shelby was born. I only pushed once she crowned. She came down without pushing. I did not get to hold her right away since they took her across the room to clean out her lungs from breathing in the meconium. I felt a little disconnected and woozy. The resident told me I was the first intentional natural birth she had ever seen --sometimes the woman gets to the hospital too late to get an epidural--but she never saw anyone refuse drugs or IV or episiotomy or other interventions. Ha. What a Real Woman I am. (I hope that compensated for the few screams. She looked a little wide eyed as I unleashed my Primal Birth Screams.) I then reassured her that she was doing a good job sewing me back up. ROFL Ever the polite nurturer. Eventually they gave my beautiful baby to me. I remember the OB nurse wanting me to cover my breasts since she said the doctors and other people weren't used to it. DUH. I happily ignored her, selfishly more concerned about MY well being and the bonding of my sweet wee one. I undressed the baby. Shelby lay across both breasts, attempting to peer up at me-- unsuccessfully-- since they had glued her eyes virtually shut with the antibiotic cream. This saddened me, since I remember so vividly the long intent searching looks Tabitha gave me when she was born. Of course it was important to protect her eyes from the meconium. Her little ears were folded over on themselves and pointed with tufts of hair on theends. She looked enchantingly like a little elf. She made little sweet noises all the time. David kept talking about how delicate and sweet she was, like a little fawn. We were enthralled.
My wonderful woman OB kissed me on my forehead good bye and I had some time to fall in love with my little one. Unlike Tabitha, who latched on like a barracuda from the first moments of her life Shelby needed to be coaxed and prodded into nursing. I treasured those first few hours alone with my little baby, born after so many years of loss.
David went to get the older girls and I was holding the baby when I noticed her breathing was very odd--she whined and keened with each breath. The neonatal nurse came in and agreed it was not right. They took her away from me. Dave arrived right then with the girls and they went to the nursery to watch them work on the baby. She had meconium aspiration syndrome. I (rather gingerly) walked down the hall to watch forlornly through the glass as my infant was surrounded by a team in white doing mysterious things, and then went back to my room. Mandy came with me. I was absolutely frozen inside, afraid that the baby would die. I was so touched that Mandy's concern was for me and for my feelings. After a (long) while they brought her back to me. Then I watched my older daughters fall in love with the baby. It was one of those pristine moments in life.
My pediatrician then had the NICU residents come up to check her every hour, so she could stay with me rather than the NICU. She sounded odd when breathing for the first week of her life. They kept us in a few extra days, but she did just fine. By the end of the first day my breasts swelled and became hugely swollen with milk, which delighted both of my nurslings--Shelby and Tabby!
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I think I'm going to learn a lot about birth & babies if I stick around this journal, Kas! LOL. Great entry... it's amazing how you had to fight to do things the natural way. Were Shelby's breathing problems just temporary? Happy B-day to her, --Albert
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I was one of those women who wanted the epidural, but progressed quickly all of the sudden, and couldn't have it. In retrospect, I'm glad---I wasn't thrilled with the concept of someone poking about in my spine, and I was able to get up fairly quickly and go about my business. I'd do it that way again.
5/18/04 2:35 PM
lots of love,
Kas