Declan's Birth Story

Brian - My husband
Mom - My mom, duh!
Vyviane - Close friend of mine, at the time
Mary - My sister
Chasity - Oldest friend from high school
Julie - CNM

When I told Declan's story recently, I said I educated myself just enough to get into trouble! I really did think I was educated. Honestly, though, I didn't have much direction. I was 23 and didn't have many close friends that were married or having kids. I wasn't on the internet. I'd never heard of any of the books. Thanks to Diana, I knew about Dr. Sears and did read his birth and pregnancy stuff, which sunk in just enough for me to want a midwife, not an OB. In GA, homebirth is mostly underground. You can certainly have a homebirth and hire a midwife, if you choose, but it's not widely advertised and it's alegal. The pregnancy was unplanned and we didn't have alot of money and were living with my MIL. I don't even know how we'd have homebirthed, had it occurred to us. Rented a hotel room, I guess? Plus, I wasn't aware there was a big difference in a homebirth midwife and a CNM working with OBs. Added to that, the basic idea that I still didn't have full faith in my body and still wondered over things like the induction and the episiotomy, I think the OB back-up and hospital made me feel...safer. I found a practice of CNMs who I liked. The Medical Center at Gwinnett had a lovely Women's Center that was homey and called a Birth Center. Yeah, it was a hospital. I feel badly for other women when they make this distinction to me, now, "Oh, it's a birthing center, attached to a hospital." It's a hospital. Period. Anyway, tangent.

My birthplan, this time, was pretty crunchy. I'd planned a natural birth, no heplock or IVs, I'd negotiated monitoring only for brief periods and a minimum of cervical checks (Yes, I realize I could've just said no. Once again, then, I think they made me feel...safer.) I had a good relationship with all the midwives and no reason to see the OBs. My big mistake was NOT getting a doula. I thought I didn't need one, with midwives. I had support people there, but no one that had a successful, positive, natural birth experience. A doula could've provided that. $500 seems cheap, now and of course I didn't know I likely could've found one cheaper or free, had a I looked.

So, once again, I watched my EDD go by. I don't recall what the exact date was, but it was late June/early July. I told them they were off by 2 weeks. I don't know if this was intuition or only because I'd gone to 42 weeks before, but I was dead on, regardless. They didn't push induction like the OB, but by my 42 week appointment, I was asked if I'd like to help things along with a bit more vigorous exam. I believe I had my membranes stripped, but I'd never heard of it, so not 100%. I thought the last exams hurt more, which I now also think means Dr. Sands stripped them without asking at all. *sigh* At any rate, I said yes. I was antsy, too and I had a bit of doubt that I could go into labor naturally. Yes, I know, that was dumb.

My mom lived in Houston, TX and was visiting to see the baby. She'd arranged her tickets to be there AFTER. I actually love that she made the birth, though. I remember the CNM told me to go walk and have sex. So, it being the height of summer, Mom and I walked around the mall. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember it felt like good bonding time with my Mom. Then, when Bri was due to get off work, she dropped me off at home and left quickly! LOL

We had dinner, had some sex and went to bed fairly early. Sometime later, I was having cramps. I didn't realize I was in labor until my tossing and turning and occasional moaning got Brian to watch the clock. It hadn't even occurred to me! I remember him saying, "Sarah, I think they're 3 minutes apart!" We jumped into action then. Once I was fully awake, I realized they were definitely regular and there, but not really that painful, yet. I remember we got to the hospital between midnight and 1am and I guess I'd been having light, regular contractions for a few hours then. Hard to tell, exactly.

Seems like everyone was there when we got there, or soon after. Chasity didn't arrive until the morning. You see, she and Declan share a birthday! So when I called her to say I was in labor, not only was she several hours away, she was drunk! She did make it before he made an appearance, but just barely.

I remember going to a triage room and being monitored for a while. I was around 3 cms. I took this to mean I only had a few more hours, waiting for my jump to 10. My memories of most of the labor were very, very good. It was exactly what I had in mind. Julie got there, checked in and was there and available the whole time, unlike Sands, but not pressurey, watching TV in the nurses station. My mom and Vyviane were smart and brought books:) They realized I'd mostly just need Brian and respected that dynamic, but I was happy they were there and phased in with them every once in a while. I don't remember much specifically about what was said or done between Brian and I. I do remember that he was the ideal labor partner. I remember his eyes letting me know everything was okay and only wanting him and feeling so much love:)

I remember the nurses popping in to see me, a real, laboring woman. They were happy, don't get me wrong, but it was obvious everyone else that night had an epidural. I walked the halls, over and over, Bri holding my arm and everyone else behind us, like a strange procession. I bounced on the labor ball and loved it. I nurse convinced me to try to tub, which I actually didn't want to. I think I was just content with whatever I was doing, but once I tried the tub, it was heavenly! It was bigger than the average (but a labor tub, not a birth tub - of course!) and had jets. I loved the time I spent in the bathroom, either on the toilet (perfect!) or in the tub (even more perfect!) I made it to 8 in there and then they freaked out. I remember some nurse saying, "You can't have a baby in the bathtub! You have to get out now!" I listened. I shouldn't locked the door;)

I don't recall when I got to 8 cms, but my recollection is that it was quick and I expected to be 10 cms at the next check. I wasn't. I think I spent at least 6 or 7 hours of that labor at 8 cms and emotionally in transition. It was ROUGH! Many things contributed. I think moving me from the tub was one. Secondly, I was having back labor. Declan was posterior and turned out to be quite a big baby! I didn't know this, at the time, but now it seems obvious. Also, as I'd had no IV, no food was allowed (I'd snuck a few granola bars, but what I ate wasn't nearly enough), I think I was having low blood sugar. As time went on, I felt more blurry and weak and...whiny. Plus, my sister, well, she wasn't doing well. In retrospect, I should've never invited her. Yes, she's my sister and I love her, but we've never had the closest relationship and it was...tense. She seemed hurt that I didn't pay her much attention and I was very aware that she was unhappy. I know that distracted me, too. So, maybe all of these things contributed? I just know I spent hours and hours in a haze of transition and eventually, I was curled on the bed, on my side, refusing to walk, to move, to change positions, saying I couldn't do it anymore. What I wish had happened, now, is that they'd just let me whine. My baby would've either been born there or I'd have gotten up, tired of whining! I remember the midwife was worried, as my contractions were slowing. I hadn't been in labor anywhere near 24 hours, but I'd be stuck for many hours and was exhausted and we all know how hospitals view that.

In retrospect, I probably should've pushed. They insisted that I couldn't, because I was only 8 cms and I'd hurt myself. I felt the need to push, strongly, though. It didn't occur to me that women had birthed babies for all of time without fingers in their vaginas or without knowing what 10 cms was! I've now read about laboring down. That often pushing with your instincts can't help remove that last bit of cervix. At the time, though, I listened and resisted the urge to push. Fought it hard and didn't. Man, that fucking hurt. Not pushing when your body says to push is torture. I asked to be checked almost obsessively, at that point, sure I must be at 10 cms, feeling pushy. I became disappointed.

Julie started suggesting that I get something to help. I tried to hold out. Did hold out, for a while. I'm not sure how long. In the end, they played the card. I was essentially told this wasn't good for the baby and if I couldn't progress soon, we might have to talk c-section. I didn't assess why she said this. Everyone else was worried, too. I think the energy was contagious, at this point. I consented to narcotics, via IV, which were supposed to help relax me. They made it possible for me to doze, but I hated them. They made everything hazy and woozy and disconnected my from my body. Brian said I acted a bit drunk, slurring my words. He said I'd also start sentences and then didn't finish them for full minutes later. I also think they were part of me giving up entirely. I felt like I couldn't grip my experience anymore. It slipped away. I was sitting on the bed, rocking and in a very dark space. Brian had dozed off next to me. My mom and Vyviane had either dozed or were reading. I couldn't find their eyes. I was mumbling, over and over, like a dark chant, "I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. This sucks." and rocking. I remember looking for eyes and seeing Mary's watching me intently. I looked at her while mumbling for a while, I'm not sure how long. Then I said, "Can you please leave and go get my midwife." thinking I needed checking. Yeah, I said please. I'm generally SO worried about being rude in labor that I'm stupidly polite! I remember her face looking wrong, somehow and her jumping up. She didn't come back. Time blurred again. I vaguely wondered where she had gone, but was just...lost. Anyway, the drugs did nothing to help my progress, just my sanity!

I later found out I only spoke the, "Can you please leave." part and she thought I threw her out. I don't recall throwing her out or being mad at her. She also thought I said, "I hate you. I hate you." *sigh* Yeah, it was dramariffic. Additionally, I think I consented to them breaking my water somewhere in there, but Bri says he thinks it broke on it's own.

So, now Julie thought I needed pit. Pit or c-section, that's how it was presented to me. I remember standing there, working it over in my head, trying to find my way out. Vyviane then got up in my face and yelled, "Take the drugs!" Wow. I wasn't angry. What I felt, in that moment was that everyone else must agree with Julie. I was being stubborn and endangering my baby and everyone else could see it, but me! I caved. I was scared, so scared. Even more, I was scared of the pitocin. I'd been so surprised at the difference in natural labor and pitocin. I weakly told Julie I needed the epidural if I was going to do pitocin. She nodded, I think she wanted me to take it. And then the final straw snapped and I gave up. I'd failed. Oh well. When I told this story at the Blessing Way, I remember saying that everything felt fine and good until they started telling me it wasn't. I think that's true for alot of women. Women in labor are highly suggestible.

They started an IV bag of fluids before my pit and epidural. I remember suddenly feeling miraculously better. I felt stronger and clearer. I realized that I'd been suffering from low blood sugar, on some level, though not as strongly as I did, later. Still, I didn't tell them I could walk more now and no pit. I'd given up. I wanted that epidural. I'd literally have consented to being knocked out with a shovel, at that point, if it could all stop. I wanted to be done with the pain and have my baby. I didn't experience the pit contractions for long, the epidural was soon.

The placing of it was the worst. I was still at 8 cms and they wanted me to sit down and curl forward. I couldn't sit down flat like that and I certainly couldn't curl forward. I could feel his head...ouch! So they had me lay on my side and wanted me to curl into a ball. WTF?! Then they said, "Don't move." as I proceeded to have 3 hard contractions while they placed it. They missed. I felt little drops on my back and felt them go numb. I think someone said, "Oops." or maybe my brain just did that when I felt the splatter! At any rate, they got it placed, alright, but apparently that stupid decision is what's wrong with my back, now. It was on the paper I signed, that no one reads in that state of mind. But it was in and it felt amazing! I still remember that feeling of the pain stopping and yes, it felt good. It's nowhere worth all the crap associated with it, though. By now, I'm drugged to the gills and relaxing in bed. Chasity got there and we talked briefly.

Somewhere about here, a nurse asked Brian if he was okay. She said he looked pale. My husband is prone to boughts of low blood sugar and he was so focused on me, he hadn't eaten, either. Fuck! Hindsight being 20/20, my mind flashed back on several times where someone had offered him snacks and he'd turned them down. He was told to go to the cafeteria and eat. Seems like he had to be rushed back up soon, but he did eat, some.

Not even an hour later, I was at 10 cms (so yes, the drugs worked) and ready to push. Same stupid position. I can't wait to push NOT like that! That pushing stage was SO MUCH better. The midwife and nurses were so much sweeter and more encouraging than Sands his team. I pushed for about an hour and a half. It was slow and good. I had massage. Brian was between my legs with Julie, ready to catch:) Everyone was cheering me rather than ordering me. It was much, much better. I remember Julie calling out to Brian, "Grab his shoulder!" and Brian saying, "Which part is his shoulder?!" I don't know if I laughed or not, but it was very funny:) He was all squished, I guess.

When Declan was born, I remember feeling almost shocked. Haha! It's funny how it feels that way, isn't it? I think they cleaned him off first, because my first memory of really seeing him wasn't the second he was born. I remember they called out "9 pounds 15 ounces!" and I baulked. I think I asked, "Did I tear?" and someone laughed and said, "Not really, you're fine!" At that moment, I have to admit, my first thought was how I was going to kick Dr. Sands ass! Declan was over 2 pounds bigger! Asshole! That passed quickly, because there was my baby:)

I said hello and we put him to my breast. It was darker in the room. The big overhead was off, I think, thankfully and the light was just coming in through a window. I sat there watching him lay quietly at my breast, with it in his mouth, but not sucking much. It was someone else, maybe Brian, maybe someone else? who said, "Is he breathing?!" Fuck! They took him quickly, then, and rubbed him and he started crying again. He was okay. I don't know WTF happened except that he loved the boob THAT much. He'd actually forgotten to keep breathing for a few seconds. Wow.

The stay in the hospital sucked, mostly. We'd allowed them to take him for one brief period, only, to do the bath and the newborn checks. Shouldn't have let them, but we did. While there, they gave him a freakin' bottle...because he was hungry. Hello, I'm right down the hall! The rest of the stay they harassed us regularly about blood sugar checks because he was too big to thrive on just breastmilk. Yes, they said that. I at least knew better than that and never consented to any supplementation and fought with them. I didn't even know they had IBCLCs there. Wish I had, as they might've helped me fix the latch that caused so many problems a few days later (probably thanks to that damn bottle and/or the epidural, take your pick) and could've supported me there. As it was, the hospital wasn't helpful, but interrupted our sleep alot and pricked his poor foot so much he had significant bruising for a good week or two after we went home.

Still, like I said about Elena's story, our births us. My early breastfeeding issues (which I'm not going to go into fully, here, maybe later) are part of why I became interested in counseling and helping other women to learn to breastfeed. Additionally, as much as I wish I'd had 3 lovely UCs, I think the fact that I haven't, that I've truly been there, really equips me to be more understanding of other women. I don't feel superior. I get it. I'm just trying to save other women the same kind of doubt and pain. Our bodies were made for this! It's taken me years to figure that out and BELIEVE it.

As far as the actual motherhood part, that was easier than I thought:) It took some time to find our groove, but mostly I found myself knowing what to do if I stopped thinking about it.

For some odd reason, this is when I knew we were parents and that we were going to be okay:
When Declan was about a month old, we were apartment hunting. We'd been out ALL DAY and were tired and hungry, so we stopped at Wendy's. Declan's diaper was stinky, so we pulled over, into a parking space. I decided to change him quickly in my lap. Yes. BAD IDEA. I put him on my lap, on a lumbar pillow and proceeded to change him. The poop fountain commenced. We went through all of the wipes. Every time I'd wipe him clean and we'd call it good, he'd go again! It disgusting. I watched the poop and now pee pool at the curved edges of the pillow, praying to not be bathed in it. Brian's sitting in the driver's seat, giving me wipes, helping as much as he can. Finally, realizing I was down to the last two, I slapped a diaper on him and just wiped the edges, deciding to clean him up at home. I guess Brian put him back in his seat and I was carefully balancing the pillow, still remaining thankfully undrenched. Then, we looked at each other. What the fuck do we do? Obviously the responsible thing to do is drive it to a trash can, but it was balanced so carefully... I looked over at the drive-through, opened my door, and shoved the pillow under the car, on the pavement, in one quick move, spilling nothing. Then I turned to Brian and said, "Drive!" which he was already doing. Yes, tires squealed. We looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. Declan laughed, too. Yes, we both felt guilty, btw, but it just had to be funny.

So, there you go, stupid, funny story about poop and how I realized we could handle anything...together:)

So...:
Declan Jake
7/14/00 at 12:59pm
9 pounds 15 ounces
42 weeks gestation after about 14 hours of labor