No More Room at the Inn

It started as an almost ordinary Tuesday, except for that weird intuition that propelled me to pack the car with all the baby stuff and convince Dylan that he should reschedule some things and come with me to my regular appointment. I had had just a couple of painful contractions overnight that I thought might be worth mentioning to the midwife. NBD.

So, we dropped off Gavin and headed into Phoenix. I brought up the contractions during my appointment, and the midwife asked if I wanted to be checked to see how far along I was. I hesitated...I know how these things go. Checking for dilation is hardly ever predictive of anything unless you're pretty far along, and it's not exactly a fun process. Plus, it can introduce infection, which is why the midwives generally don't check you until you're in labor. But I figured, what the hey. We're here now, let's do this.

"So, I'm really glad we checked. You're not going back home before you have this baby. I'm calling the midwife on call," Amy, the sweetest midwife ever, told me. I guess I was further along than I felt.

During the exam, she could feel the bag of water bulging, which I thought meant it could break any minute and then it would be game-on. She said the baby's head was right there and everything was pretty primed to go at any moment. I was at 6cm but all thinned out. The midwives offered to break my water for me, and from what they could tell from my exam, the baby might just fly right out if they did that. But if he didn't, then the clock would be ticking to get the baby out within 24 hours of the water breaking before they'd have to cut me open at the hospital. Dylan and I went to lunch at Panera where decided to go a little more conservative route and have my membranes stripped to get the contractions rolling. After we returned to the Inn to do that, we then hit the Biltmore for some shopping until I got tired of trying to talk to salespeople through hard contractions. They had told me not to go very far and zoom back if my water broke or the contractions got close together. After an hour or so, I called the midwife on call and let her know we were heading back to the birthing center.

When we showed up, both Amy and Kimberly (the midwife on call) were prepping everything. "We don't trust you. We love you, but we don't trust you," Amy said. They thought I was playing it cool but was actually about to deliver there on the doorstep.

I wasn't playing though. I still felt pretty cool as long as I wasn't having a contraction. So, we took a walk around the block, and a short while later I was at 9cm. Still, I was feeling pretty chill. I think most people are pretty not-chill by that point.

Here we are, just laboring in downtown Phoenix. Photo captured by an intern going between the office and the birthing center.

Maybe more than you wanted to see, but here we are in the tub!

Meanwhile, another laboring mom was inbound to the birth center. It's usually a one-at-a-time thing, but apparently it's a busy season for babies, and luckily they have two rooms for birthing. She was a first-time mom and further behind in labor than me. Surely, she would take much longer to have her baby. At least that's what we thought.

I began hard labor in the tub, and then I moved  to the bed when I suddenly felt overheated and just wanted out. Staci was the RN/doula who stayed with us the whole time and monitored the baby's heart rate. She was incredible. Kimberly was an energizer bunny going between the two laboring moms. Also incredible. Everyone told me a thousand times that I was doing a great job. "I can't believe you're still smiling," they'd say.

Eventually, I could hear the other mom screaming through her contractions. Maybe that's when things got primal and animalistic? I don't know, but it started to hurt, and I wasn't smiling anymore. I turned into a beast.

I reached that really hard stage of labor and just stayed there. It was a period of several hours that involved lots of screaming. My water did not break. It was still bulging, and in doing so, it was cushioning the baby, but really holding things back. Meanwhile, the first-time mom in the next room had had her baby. I could hear it crying. I kept telling myself, If my water doesn't break in the next two contractions, I'm telling them to break it. But then I'd go like five more contractions and kept thinking it would break. I don't know why I didn't decide to have the midwife break it much earlier on, but eventually I decided that I was over it and told them to go for it. I'm sure they were all relieved to finally be doing something to get the ball rolling. It was getting late, after all. (Later they told me that I probably would have been holding the baby in my arms by about 4pm if they had broken it earlier in the afternoon. Why I put myself through what I did, I'll never know. I'm stubborn, I guess, and I didn't like the idea of any kind of intervention after what I went through with Gavin.)

At some point, Ashley, a third midwife, showed up to take over my delivery. When the other mom and I became neck and neck for delivery, Kimberly had to call in for support. The poor other mom, though she had a beautiful delivery and baby, had to go to the hospital because of a complication after delivery. So for a long time, it was just Staci and Dylan (and me) in charge of my labor.

When Ashley returned, she artificially broke my water. It took an unusually long time for her to do it, puzzling everybody. "Bag of steel," she said. (Thank goodness I chose not to continue to wait for it to happen on its own. Who knew a bag of water could be so tough?) But when she finally did, it was like a flood, and things reached a whole new level of animalistic. I still didn't feel that overwhelming urge to push right away, like they said I would, but they told me it was safe to push anyway, so I did. Nothing happened, except the baby's heart rate dropped for just a little bit, and I began running out of steam. I remember screaming and shouting and completely losing control. It was so intense. I was on the bed gripping things and shouting things and just being a total beast. Dylan was there encouraging me and getting physically beat-up, and Staci was getting in my face to get me in check and tell me what I needed to do.

I don't know what switched in me, but then suddenly I was pushing the way you're supposed to push. It hurt, so, so, so, so badly. "I can't do this!!!" I shouted to Dylan at least a few times. I thought they would have to cut the baby out of me or I was going to die. Those were the only two options.

But I did it. Before I knew it, Ashley told me to reach down and grab my baby, and it was all over. I pulled him to my stomach (the cord was too short to get him to my chest) and just laid there, lifeless, complaining that it hurt. We got to the birth center just before 3pm and the baby was born at 11:33pm. He was perfect in every way, but I only had a sliver of life left in me. I just held him and held him, and eventually Dylan cut the cord and got to take him to my mom so they could enjoy him for a little bit.

(I have plenty of pictures of me with the baby, but it's disturbing how wrecked I look, so I'll spare you.)

I'll fast-forward through what happened between the tub and the delivery.

Meeting Dad and Nonna.

It was an incredibly graphic birth because along with the copious amounts of amniotic fluid, the baby pooped that tarry meconium poop on his way out, and it was gross and everywhere. Ashley had never seen that much baby poop on delivery. Everyone was in awe. I didn't notice it at the time, but I recently received the photos of the delivery to see for myself. Sorry if that was TMI.

I remember other people who had had natural births saying that as soon as it's done, the pain just disappears. You have your perfect baby in your arms, and everything that you went through was totally worth it and in the past. It wasn't like that for me. I hurt so, so much. Plus, I had to get stitched up, and also they had to do these uterus checks where they kept pressing down really hard on my belly, and I was yelling "Stop it! Stop it!" It was awful.

"That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'll never do it again," I said. I was just being honest, and I still feel that way. It was the most incredible, powerful and amazing thing that will ever happen to me, but I honestly don't know how people do that more than once. I'm a little traumatized and just glad we don't plan to have any more babies.

Was it worth it? I won't say that during all that pain and all those pushes that led to no progress over several hours that I didn't just wish I was numb and in the hospital at least once. But yes, it was most definitely worth it. Baby Graham is so precious, and I have felt really good since we left the birth center. Not to mention that my leg isn't paralyzed. Now that I'm a few days out, I would say that yes, I would do it the same way all over again.

All my prenatal care, the delivery, and everything about this experience was amazing. I have a special love for the Babymoon Inn, and I'm sad I won't have to go back there for regular appointments. Honestly, I looked forward to meeting with the midwife each time, attending all my classes and shooting the breeze with all the people who worked in the office and the other moms that were there regularly. It was warm and inviting and just not very clinical. They had treats and tea and coffee and snacks in every corner of the office, a play area for the kids, and the exam room was hardly exam room-ish. Everyone knew your name and was happy to see you whenever you'd show up. I wasn't even poked and prodded a single time until I went into labor. At the Inn, you do your own urine labs and weight when you show up, and you even do your own Group B Strep Test. So easy. If anyone was considering a birth center delivery over a hospital delivery, I'd say do it. Definitely. Labor and delivery is no walk in the park, but you get through it, and it's a much more personal and non-medical experience overall. (I hate medical experiences, if you haven't noticed.) Obviously, it's not for everyone, but it was great for me, now that it's all said and done.

The story wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention what a rockstar Dylan was. I almost broke his hand or arm a few times, and he never stopped the words of encouragement. He was right there through everything. In the tub, out of the tub. Right there. It was gross and graphic, and he was awesome. "I don't think I could ever convey to you the level of energy coming from you on that bed," he told me. Everyone was just awesome. We also had RN/doula Annie, who attended the other mom's delivery but checked in on me, too. She took care of all our discharge stuff, and she was sweet and awesome.

We took care of a few discharge items, got dressed and hit the road a few hours after the delivery. We rolled up to our house at about 4am. It was 32 degrees, and we were wiped. Obviously. Baby Graham sleeps all day and is up all night, but overall everyone is doing awesome!