Baby Boy Birth Story

Disclaimer: This post deals with birth. I talk about normal bodily functions and fluids. I also talk about my experience. I am not a medical professional. Do not take any of this as medical advice. Please talk to your healthcare provider before making any decisions based on this or any other article you find on this blog. 

During my first pregnancy, the last 3 weeks were torture. Not that I had a great pregnancy overall with morning sickness, depression, anxiety, and multiple physical issues, but at the end, I was desperate to get my baby out! Most mothers feel that way from what I can tell. Some feel it more urgently than others. 

Nearing the end of my most recent pregnancy, I did not feel quite as desperate, though I was very ready to meet my baby boy. My body was aching, especially my pelvis as I had symphysis pubis dysfunction. My physical therapist told me to avoid squatting or sitting on the floor, which was very difficult with a two year old. Thankfully, my husband was able to help with most of the dirty pull ups and held her for me on long walks when she was done walking or riding in her stroller. Even with my struggles this pregnancy, I could tell he was probably smaller. I felt better mentally overall than my last full term pregnancy, and I was okay. I wasn’t having very many Braxton Hicks, and my cervix was pretty closed. I would be very happy for him to come any time, but there were no outbursts of tears of frustration from still being pregnant at the end.

We had a couple different due dates because of ultrasounds and because I had been tracking my cycle this time. According to the ultrasounds, I was due about 3 days before the due date according to my ovulation. My husband’s family came, and I wanted to have the baby while they were all still in town. That seemed very important to my husband too, and so on the ovulation due date, I drank a “midwives brew” to induce labor. Please do not look this up and/or drink it without talking to your healthcare provider. I am not condoning my actions, just stating what they were.

It was late when I drank the midwives’ brew, and we left my daughter sleeping at the rental property with her grandparents. When we arrived at home, my husband and I decided to go on a walk around our neighborhood. It was around 11:30 PM, but our neighborhood is very safe and it was during the holidays. There were more people walking at that time than I expected. By the time we were getting closer to our house, a little after midnight, I was having some stronger contractions. 

We went to bed, but I was still contracting, and about 1 AM, I felt like I needed to use the bathroom. My contractions were inconsistent, but after using the restroom, they started to become consistent. I went to my living room about 2 AM, sat on my birthing ball, started listening to Christian Hypnobirthing, and downloaded some contraction trackers. 

After 5 contractions, the app I was using told me to start getting ready for the hospital if it was my first baby, and to maybe go ahead and go if it was not my first baby. Since I was induced with my first baby, I ignored it. After a couple more contractions, the app told me to go to the hospital. I decided to take a shower. 

During the shower, I continued to track my contractions while letting the warm water soothe my back. After the app told me to go to the hospital a couple more times, I got out and told my husband that I was going to put on some makeup and then we probably needed to go to the hospital. Once we got in the car at about 3:30 AM, I was contracting every 2.5 minutes for about a minute at a time. Handling the contractions in the car was definitely more difficult than in the shower or on the birthing ball, but focusing on my breathing during contractions and listening to music (I chose soothing worship music ahead of time), helped ease the difficulty. 

We arrived at the hospital, and after some difficulty filling out paperwork between contractions, I was sent to a room for a nurse to check me. She asked me to rate my pain during contractions on a scale of zero to ten. Zero being no pain at all, and ten being attacked by an alligator. I said a six. She then checked my dilation, and exclaimed in surprise that I was six or seven centimeters dilated. Her exact words were, “you’re doing great to be almost 7 centimeters dilated and only a 6 on the pain scale!” I told her maybe it was a 7 for pain. I did feel like I was doing okay. Contractions were definitely not comfortable, but they were not excruciating for me. 

My husband was allowed to come in the room at that point, and I was wheeled upstairs to the room where I would deliver. They hooked me up to the monitors in that room, and asked me multiple questions. The nurse remarked that it was already 5 o’clock. Knowing that labor is not always quick, I responded saying that she might not be there when my baby came. She said there were still 2 hours left in her shift, and you never know. 

The midwife on call was not there yet, but she arrived quickly. The best thing she did for me was watch my contractions on the monitor. As the contractions reached a peak ( I usually had my eyes closed focused on my breathing), she would tell me in a soothing voice that this was as hard as it was going to get for this contraction and that it would soon be over. Between contractions, I remarked how movies make it seem like women are screaming in pain the entire time during contractions. It just isn’t realistic. She noted that every woman’s experience is different, and every woman handles pain in her own way. She then excused herself, and told us she would be back soon. 

I felt like I needed to urinate (I had also felt that about an hour before, and I had had no issues), and I asked my husband to unhook the monitors and help me to the bathroom. Walking to the bathroom brought on a change. Once in the bathroom, I was struggling. I couldn’t pee, and I suddenly felt like I needed to have a bowel movement. Everything was hurting. Suddenly, I exclaimed to my husband that I thought I needed an epidural! “No, no I can do this, right?” I pleaded. He calmly told me I could, and then my water broke. There was blood in the water, and it worried me, but I didn’t tell my husband. I just commanded him to go tell the nurses that it had broken and quickly. Unbeknownst to me at the time, he still thought it might be a while because when my water had broken with our daughter, I did not have her for another couple of hours. 

While he was going to tell the nurses, I finally urinated, cleaned myself, and stood and washed my hands. Suddenly, I felt immense pressure and pain. I screamed. The baby was coming! I needed someone to get in there now and I needed to make deeper groans if I wanted the pushes to be effective. I felt pressure again, and screamed, what I hoped was louder to get some help, and my son’s head came through. I couldn’t articulate anything more than those screams at that time.  I stepped over in front of the door frame, holding his head in my hands behind my gown, praying he would not fall on the floor. A nurse I had not seen before was right there. 

“What’s going on?” she urgently questioned. 

“What’s going on?” I yelled at her, “my son’s head is between my legs!”

She moved aside the gown. “Oh! You aren’t going to make it to the bed.” 

“No, I am not,” I replied a little angrily. 

“Someone get me a pillow!” she exclaimed to whoever was behind her. To me she said, “you need to push here.”

In a very unkind voice I answered, “I’m not having a contraction!” I then had a contraction, pushed, and my son was out! He was born about 7:35 AM, but the nurse had to check the monitor from when they left because they heard me screaming. All of that happened in less than 10 minutes from when I went into the bathroom. As I looked down at my boy, his cord broke. The nurse dug her thumb into the cord pinching it as tightly as she could, begging for a clamp. As soon as the five or so inches of cord left connected to my son were clamped, the nurse rushed him away. My husband and another nurse helped me to the bed, though I did not even realize who was helping me. The midwife exclaimed that that had never happened in all the time she had been working! I told her I was glad I could make one of her last births before retirement memorable. I had no idea that my son could have lost blood. I had no idea it was dangerous. The nurse handed him to me as I was being sewn up, and he was very pale, but with skin to skin, warm blankets, and nursing, he turned pink very quickly. Thankfully, after a couple tests, we found out that he was okay. That is all a mother could want at that point. 

My son is here. He is healthy, and he is growing steadily. His birth was fast and furious, but it was a blessing. I’m so thankful that I didn’t spend a long time pushing, and I’m mostly thankful my son is here. The nurses and my midwife were wonderful. This story doesn’t have a deep spiritual lesson, but I did learn many lessons during my pregnancy preparing for delivery. This story is just a birth story. A special birth story for me. I hope it was enjoyable!

P.S. I did apologize to the nurse who caught my boy for yelling at her, and I thanked her for not letting him fall on the floor. She may be the nurse I appreciate the most!