Yet here I am, 6 months later, and I haven't even put his birth story down on paper. I seriously don't know where to start, so I am just going to start with labor.
Isla was an unplanned C -section after my "failed" home birth. Home birth was not an option to me in Louisiana as a VBAC, so I had to make hospital plans. I can't tell you how much I dislike a lot of hospital practices as it pertains to labor and birth. Maybe I can. I really, really dislike it. Pretty much everything I have read that is research based on birth is not honored at hospitals. Anyhoooo, I didn't have a choice so I made the best of it.
1. I got a doula, again. And this was a very expensive investment but worth every penny to me.
2. I got a VBAC friendly doctor. Well, he was VBAC friendly until he wasn't, but that is another post.
So, let me let this post be about labor, which lasted 5 days for me. That is not a typo.
I was past due date and knew my baby was coming soon. I was still trying to do things to stay active like coach soccer and
The Thursday before I had Luke, I took Isla to ballet and planned to do my walk while she was in class. From there, I would take her to soccer practice and coach. I started to have contractions that were worth timing, and they were about 5 minutes apart. I called Dave for some help, sent him and Isla to soccer, and went home to labor. I was pretty darn sure I would have a baby in my arms at least by morning.
That night, labor got really intense. I was up all night with painful contractions every 5 minutes, but they never got closer together. I was worried I wouldn't know when to go to the hospital, and for a VBAC, I knew I needed to wait as long as I could. I could feel things shifting and dilating, and labor was intense.
But then it stopped. Around 2 or 3 am, contractions backed off to 20 minutes apart.
Without describing every single day, let me just say this pattern occurred Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. From the late afternoon to early morning, I would have contractions that lasted a minute and were 5 minutes apart. They would get stronger and stronger to the point they were unbearable and my doula would help me labor, but they never got to that magic 3 minute apart number. During the day, they would be present but not progressive. I pretty much got zero sleep for 5 days and cried a lot. I could not have gotten through this time without my doula Gina, who would stay up with me and help me labor. I am telling you, best money spent- if you are thinking about getting one, do it.
Isla helped me labor, the sweet girl. Watching me labor all of those days was really hard on her. She still talks about how upset it makes her to see me cry.
Prodromal labor? Like my doula said- something was happening. Whatever the label is, my body was working hard. If you have this, I got ya girl. It is terrible. It is the labor that never ends. We knew something was happening, but we also knew something was stopping it as well. It was like he was trying to descend and then would stop after hours of trying. I started to worry he was in the wrong position. (he was)
When Monday came, I went in to the doctor. I was having contractions all day long by this point and could barely walk. When he checked, I was 6cm and 80% effaced. We decided I should go walk more (as if I could) and then check into the hospital.
This is Dave and I trying to walk the baby out of me. I said, "hey! Let's take a picture of the two of us because this may be the last time we are alone for a long time. Lol!" TRUTH!
We walked around the neighborhoods by the hospital until I was just in too much pain. But I still didn't feel the contractions had progressed to that magical 2-3 minute in between mark, so I had Dave take me home so I could call our doula and get everything ready. Gina came over to help me, and the contractions stopped for 20 minutes. I was so over this. I was exhausted and frustrated. And I was in so much pain people. So much pain. For days.
And then, all of a sudden, I was yelling for everyone to get me to the hospital. It was time. I couldn't bear the pain and something had changed. We made some tactical errors, like trying to get me to the hospital in 5pm rush hour traffic. We also had Isla with us. What I thought would be a fun family experience was a mistake for sure.
I was in the backseat with Isla, puking on the way to the hospital and bawling my eyes out. Basically I was moaning, screaming, and puking. What an experience for her.
And then I had to walk to the second floor of the hospital down these long halls. No one brought me a wheelchair. I could barely stand. I could only walk a few feet before a contraction would hit. I was crying and crying. That walk was a terrible experience. Employees of the hospital just kept walking by me. My doula was trying to find a wheelchair. No one would help. OMG!!!!!
But anyways, once there, the story just gets more intense, worse, and better. It was everything.
