Waking Up, Overcoming Fear

(In commemoration of the birth of Rose, just one year ago, I am including this piece written by Sharon, which documents Rose's natural birth. If you are among those folks who get squeamish about a descriptive portrayal of chilbirth, you may not wish to read on. But if you're interested in hearing about this experience - and hearing about the case against excessive medical intervention in this natural process - read on. And, of course, Happy Birthday, Rose!)

Waking Up, Overcoming Fear

by Sharon Hylton

I lay awake. My mind began its middle of the night ritual yet again and ran restless circles around my tired body, wondering, worrying, and planning. I would focus on a soothing, sleep-inducing mantra, only to find myself miles down the road of some new thought. I was 8 months pregnant and terrified.

My first daughter had been born on the train of medical intervention. We had gotten on board when my water started leaking with no signs of labor, and try as we might we couldn’t get off. I had Cytotec, rupturing of my membranes, Pitocin, an epidural, vacuum suction, and the sense that this labor had been done to me. Somewhere along the line I had shut down emotionally, overwhelmed by what was happening. My dreams of a natural birth had been destroyed.

When Lucy was finally born and I got to see her, I proclaimed her perfect and was relieved, more than anything, to be done. I was a mother and I had a beautiful, healthy daughter, yet I felt I had missed out on something essential, something I continued to grieve even years later during the current pregnancy. Here I was, again wanting a natural birth and terrified that this was too much to hope for.

Somehow, in the mysterious way things unfold when they are meant to be, I came across some information on doulas. I hadn’t sought out a doula last time; I would give it a try this time. I found someone quickly, easily, and in the nick of time. We had just enough time for our two prenatal visits with Emme and several phone calls, during which I confessed the deep-seated fears that kept me up at night. Her calm voice reassured me that my fears were normal and that I could believe in myself and the possibility of a natural birth.

The night after our second visit with Emme, I awoke to wetness in my underwear and sinking in my heart—not my water leaking again! I lay awake, tormented by both the thought that I had to sleep to prepare for labor, and the fear that labor would not start. Sleep never came, nor did labor. The next day was spent in frenzied last minute preparations by Dan and desperate waiting mixed with cautious hoping by me as we awaited a call from our midwife.

What relief we felt when late that afternoon our midwife called and confirmed that there was no ferning, no amniotic fluid. Incredible! My heart was filled with lightness. Perhaps inspired by this good news, my uterus began to stir and the world changed. Later that evening, against the precious backdrop of Lucy running down the block in her tiger costume for her first time trick-or-treating, a small aching would come and go at the base of my uterus. It was sporadic and infrequent, but it did not subside like Braxton-Hicks contractions. As I went to bed that night, it continued. When I woke up during the night, it was still going. It kept on going through my morning work meeting the next morning—a steady pulse in the distance, the awakening of a mysterious force.

That afternoon I began to get ready.…just in case….I cancelled an appointment and instead took a nap and a walk…called Emme, called my mom, called my work. I fixed supper and tried to eat. My contractions which had held steady at 15 minutes apart became 5 minutes. And then, talking to Lucy, I found I had to stop—just for a minute—and breathe. The beginning of active labor! That’s not so bad, I thought. But how much more difficult will it get? And how long will it last? It was about 6:30. Would we still be at home in the morning? Hopeful that we might not be, Dan called my mom to come get Lucy and very soon she came to collect her little charge. Lucy ran around as we got ready, full of excitement about getting to sleep at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I was helping on and off and resting on the ball during contractions. By 8 or 8:30 we finally had Lucy packed up and out the door. That was the last time we saw her as our only daughter, as our small daughter. A monumental goodbye.

I got in the tub and stayed there listening to music for about an hour and then thought I’d try to get some rest in bed. Within moments I realized that these contractions were too strong for sleep so on Dan’s advice I returned to the tub, after calling Emme to give her an update. By now I wanted company. So Dan joined me in the dimly lit bathroom, Christmas choral music playing softly in the background. As each contraction came I would tell Dan and breathe deeply while he poured water over my belly with Lucy’s little teapot. Again and again and again. I began to wonder what possessed me to hold on to this crazy idea of a natural birth. I could not conceive of how I was going to get through hours and hours more of this. But Dan kept reminding me how different this was than last time. This time labor that had started on its own and I was doing great and had come so far already. I was afraid to be too hopeful, but I was grateful that he was so positive and encouraging.

I felt my belly to check Chicky’s position—the head was very high, halfway between the base of my pelvis and my hip. Lucy had also been high and off to the side, so of course this worried me. Dan suggested talking to Chicky, asking him/her to move, so I did. Shortly after that a wave of nausea overtook me and I left the tub for the toilet. After several violent heaves the nausea passed and the contractions were stronger. I wasn’t sure what to do to cope, so Dan recommended we call Emme.

By the time she arrived, around 11:30, I had figured out that it helped to stand and hang on Dan, with my head nestled into his shoulder, while he whispered encouraging words in my ear. His body absolutely could not touch my belly. In between contractions I would sit and rest on the ball. Emme joined our rhythm, rubbing my back during contractions and giving me water when I rested. Dan’s neck kept me safe and Emme’s hands on my tense shoulders helped me release them. My breathing got me to the end of each contraction without panicking. The room was nearly dark and the soft music continued in the background. The backrubs were great, Dan’s words were so sweet, the water felt wonderful in my dry mouth. Dan was so involved in helping me. I was shivering so he brought me a blanket and the heater, and my face was sweating so he got a cool wet washcloth for me. At this point my contractions were anywhere from 2-4 minutes apart and lasting about a minute.

Emme said I was really calm. I told her I didn’t feel calm at all. Panic would rise in me as the aching rose from the base of my uterus, but she said I was doing great. We began talking about when to go to the hospital. Emme said it was up to me, whenever I felt ready. In preparation she pulled our car around to the front of the house for us and loaded some of our stuff. I was nervous about leaving. I didn’t want to get to the hospital and find out I was dilated to 2 or 3. With my last labor I had stalled out at 3 cm for 18 hours, and the back labor without progressing wore me down to the point of needing an epidural. Emme said that 3 cm would be really good. It would mean I was solidly in active labor, and the longest part of labor was getting from 0 to 4.

I now started worrying about the car ride. I didn’t know how I was going to handle being strapped into a seat during multiple contractions. And my contractions were getting stronger, making it hard to stand still. I started shifting my weight from one foot to the other agitatedly, and moaning quietly, my face buried in Dan’s neck. At one point I squeaked out in panic, "I don’t think I can do this anymore!" Both Dan and Emme suggested that leaving soon might be a good idea, since the car ride would only get more difficult the longer we waited. So I agreed to go.

Emme left first so she could park her car and then meet us to park our car. As one more contraction ended Dan and I also headed out into the cold and dark for the dreaded 15 minute ride. At this point my mind was still intact.

The ride to the hospital was, as I had imagined, torture. I had to move—I couldn’t sit still with the intensity of pain deep in my pelvis, and yet I was imprisoned by my seatbelt. With eyes mostly closed I stretched out as straight as I could while strapped in, and gripped Dan’s arm, unconcerned about how this might affect his driving. As I yelled and squirmed my way through contractions, Dan’s desperate updates would reach my ears; we’re on the freeway…we’re heading south now…we’re off the freeway…During the course of this car ride I departed Earth for another world, some deep internal place I’ve never been. Glimpses of outer reality would float past like fish in water when I occasionally opened my eyes.
I felt like a zombie in a tunnel when we got to the hospital. Nothing mattered; smiles were not part of this universe. Only the sidewalk in front of me existed. I was vaguely aware that Emme met us at the emergency room entrance and she and Dan took care of unloading and parking logistics as I took one plodding step after another towards the glass doors. We were barely inside when I felt pain rising within me again. I was desperate for Dan’s shoulder but he was loaded down with suitcases. "Put it down!" I cried and he dropped everything but I collapsed onto my hands and knees and bellowed at the top of my lungs. Someone passed and said something…Then I was able to get up again and we walked to the desk.

A woman appeared with a wheelchair and I sat. We waited. My mouth was so dry…I asked Dan for some water, hoping to drink it before the next contraction…Emme appeared after parking our car, surprised we hadn’t already been taken up. Then the nurse took us up to triage…said something I didn’t understand, a joke, it seemed. I didn’t respond.

We reached triage at 1:06am. Emme has to leave, they said unexpectedly. Privacy, too crowded, or something. So Dan and I were on our own. I undressed from the waist down, Emme having advised me I could leave the rest on rather than wearing a hospital gown. The nurse wanted me to lay down. I tried to comply but the surge of a contraction hit and I heaved myself onto all fours, knocking monitor straps askew and shouting. I was informed that this was not OK, that I would not get admitted until they could get the monitors on me for 20 minutes (20 minutes!?) while I was lying down. "Well, if she needs to be on her hands and knees again, she’s going to do it!" Dan exclaimed in my defense. Somehow though, I managed to lay on my side for them for 20 interminable minutes. My contractions were so intense, I felt completely out of control. My hands were clenched on Dan’s shirt as I breathed into the depths of my guts and yelled. The nurse wanted me to do shallow breathing, though. "Think about it, think about it," she would say with her hands on my chest.

At last, Emme returned. "Breathe it away," she said as I came to the end of a contraction. Suddenly I felt a strange bulging pressure between my legs and a need to push, so I did. A hot wetness gushed out onto my legs. I had the strange notion that no one noticed this, but I was incapable of telling anyone. Someone, Emme I think, tried to mop it up. She called out to the midwife in the hall that my water had just broken and I was feeling pushy. Finally, the midwife came and checked me. "You’re a 10 and the baby’s right there!" she announced. "A 10, Sharon! Isn’t that wonderful?" Dan marvelled. I was amazed on some level, because this blew out of the water all my notions about how labor would progress at the hospital, but I was too busy to celebrate.

Everything was in motion to get me into a delivery room in time. Dan and Emme, our luggage rack, our midwife and a host of nurses pushed my bed down hallway after hallway to a delivery room at the other end of the earth. Whenever I opened my eyes I saw halls hurtling past. I bellowed away, gripping Dan’s hand to keep me anchored. All of a sudden, Dan’s hand slipped away and I opened my eyes to see him receding from my bed. "Dan!" I called out in terror. "I’ll be right there, Sharon!" he answered. Apparently we had reached the room and he couldn’t fit through the doorway along with the bed, but all I knew was that my anchor was gone.

Dan and Emme helped me get into the birthing bed and undress. It was 1:32. I lay on my side and immediately felt a huge urge to push. For the pushing, too, I roared. This was nothing like the medicated numbness I had experienced with Lucy, attempting something I hoped was pushing when they told me to. This was a force that took control of my body. Emme suggested I focus my energy downward with each contraction.

After a few moments the midwife asked me to turn over because the baby’s heart tones were low, possibly because of being deep in the birth canal. After I turned over the baby was crowning. They asked me if I wanted to touch the head so I reached down and felt something wet, wrinkled, and fuzzy. I was ecstatic. I was doing it!

The pressure between my legs was tremendous. I felt a slight burning and fear about what might come out of me, but I realized I had to just let go and push everything. The midwife wanted me to slow down, gentle pushes, but I couldn’t. She said she wanted to put a scalp heart monitor on the baby because she couldn’t get a good read on heart tones, but there was no time. Very shortly after crowning I felt an immense whoosh as the baby’s head slid out, and then another whoosh as the body followed. It was 1:41.

Screams came immediately from this beautiful baby, who was then placed on my chest, wet, warm, and the most amazing thing I had ever seen. In my state, I thought we had a boy, but Dan was able to correctly determine that we had another girl…I felt great. I felt incredible! No exhaustion, no pain afterwards, like last time. Just pure joy!

I lay awake the rest of that night, but this time in disbelief and joy. I had had a beautiful and glorious birth, the most energizing, intense, and otherworldly experience of my life, and now I was soaking up every detail of my amazing daughter Rose as I relived the birth, second by second. I cried as I thought about how incredibly fortunate I was.

This could be the end of my birth story, but it’s not. Lessons from that magnificent experience have permeated my life, causing changes I couldn’t have predicted—most importantly following my heart’s desire to stay home with my daughters, something I was afraid to do after Lucy’s birth. I’m finding I have more courage to reach out to others and to follow my desires, more energy and openness, more creative juices flowing.
It feels as though I’m waking up to my life….And nursing notwithstanding, I’m finally able to sleep at night.