Everything, Nothing, and I'm a Middle Child

Okay, it's been 3 and 1/2 months. (and yes, Liam is trying the sleeping thing again - can you tell I'm not used to doing anything without him in arms? I can't even think of anything other to do...)

I originally had no desire to write down my birthing story. My friend Leila, however, just experienced her sister-in-law giving birth and I keep checking for her birth story for some reason, so I thought I'd settle for me describing mine.

The doctors' did an ultrasound and decided that Liam was too small. There was a chance he had IUGR (too small - not getting enough nutrients through the placenta), and that could be bad. They also thought I didn't have enough amniotic fluid.

Both turned out to be false. Which, well, I have to admit I sort of knew. In the future I will not repeat this experience. Because of these decisions, I was induced. That night. So, 3 April, Mark and I went to the first hour of our last Lamaze class and then headed upstairs for me to receive the first phase of my induction: Cervidil (sp?). It's basically a tampon meant to soften the cervix. It did. By the next morning I was 3 cm dilated and they began me on Pitocin and my antibiotics since I also tested positive for Group B Strep.

I labored, rather simply and straightforwardly, for about 9 hours. Mark was a wonderful, helpful partner. Someday I hope to hear his side of the story. My mother joined us, well, frankly, I have no idea when. Around 4 pm maybe? I cried when she arrived. I'd had no idea just how much I wanted her there. She was such a solace. Her simple presence gave me more comfort and confidence than anything else in the world could have possibly.

I think around that same time my doula arrived. For those who know, that's our dear friend Anne Grove - a midwife. Her loving encouragement and knowledgeable skill guided my experience. She directed me so that my labor continued on when it started to falter a bit.

Around 7 p.m. my water broke - all of its own accord, thankfully. Proof positive I had plenty amniotic fluid, thank you very much. When my water broke, I immediately advanced to 5 cm. The contractions immediately accelerated.

Through. The. Roof.

Good ole Pitocin.

My mind went into overdrive. A panicked frenzy. I thought I was going to pass out from the pain, mainly because I knew that 5 centimeters dilated does not a delivery make. A woman can still be in labor for HOURS at that point.

But I wasn't. Basically, every contraction brought me a centimeter closer to delivery.

Literally. My midwife (not Anne) snapped me back into focus and got me centered. I remember her quite clearly getting in my face and practically yelling at me, "Mara, this is going to happen. It can happen. But we need you to focus. Now." Bless her heart. I love that woman. That was exactly what I needed. I would have never thought it, but she got me on my hands and knees and it made everything much easier.

45 minutes later, Liam was born. Yeah. 5 centimeters. 45 minutes. Done.

Thank goodness someone finally told me that if you take it the slower route (sans Pit), it's not quite so painful.

However, I do have a caveat: I did it. I survived. No drugs. So, those 45 minutes were extreme, but they were obviously survivable 'cause I'm still here. And whole.

And I know I'm getting some distance from the whole experience because I suspect I could even convince my body to go through it again.

(and Liam is still asleep this time!)