The Birth Story | Matilda Eleanor

Labor started early, 12:30am early.

Thirty minutes after the due date came and went, baby decided to start the entry process.

Up to this point, I had prodromal labor for 2.5 weeks. This consisted of mild contractions coming in regular intervals for 12-17 hours a day. But, they were never closer than 4-5 minutes apart for more than 2 hours (which was when I was supposed to go in, according to the on call nurse).

• Pregnancy Recap

I’ve experienced true labor before otherwise I probably would have made some premature trips to the hospital thinking it was go time. But the contractions always fizzled out.

Until they didn’t.

A strong contraction awoke me from my slumber and I knew that was it.

I checked the clock: 10 minutes apart. With my first, I also went into labor around midnight and was able to labor at home for 6 hours, napping in-between contractions, before going into the hospital. So I figured I’d give that a try.

2 Hours Later

Contractions started to pick up. I couldn’t do them on my own anymore and woke up my husband. We went back and forth on what to do. Contractions were now 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 1.5 minutes. And painful. Should we set our labor plan in motion or wait until they were 3-5 minutes apart for 2 hours?

I knew I didn’t want to go into the hospital too early but my resolve was quickly deteriorating.

My husband was thinking ahead and knew that it’d take some time for people to get here to watch our son so we decided to put the labor plan in motion.

Go Time

My husband made the calls and packed the car. I focused on the contractions. At 3:30am we were on our way to the hospital. I vaguely remember semi-yelling at my husband for driving while I was having a contraction but he said that if he stopped we’d never get to the hospital.

Fair.

It’s a good thing we didn’t stop because labor was progressing very quickly.

At the Hospital

We finally arrived at the hospital and they needed to check me to verify I was in labor before they would call the doctor or anesthesiologist. At this point, the only thing on my mind was getting an epidural. They said that if they decided to keep me (a.k.a. if I was in true labor) it’d be about half hour from that point until the anesthesiologist showed up.

They checked me: baby was head down and I was 2cm dilated. 2 days prior I was 2cm dilated so basically I hadn’t made progress. Since my contractions were so close together (& painful), they decided to keep me.

I looked at the clock: 4:00am. Okay, I could hold out until 4:30 for the epidural.

A few more contractions went by and then I started throwing up. The nurse told me to lay on the bed so she could check me again because throwing up is a sign of active labor.

The Progression

Sure enough, I was now 6cm dilated.. which meant I went from 2cm to 6cm in 40 minutes. That’s when they kicked things into high gear.

At this point I was in so much pain and seriously worried I had missed my window for an epidural.

They brought in nitrous oxide (laughing gas) to help me get through the contractions until the anesthesiologist got there (what was taking so long?!). Whenever I got a contraction, I’d breathe into the mask. That really helped take the edge off & made them more manageable.

I’m not sure if I was breathing in too efficiently but my consciousness was starting to wane and I was pretty out of it. My husband said my head & body would go limp after a contraction. It even got to the point where the nurse said she was going to have me take break from the gas and she started asking me basic questions like what my name was, why I was in the hospital, etc.

A little before 6am the anesthesiologist FINALLY arrived. 45 minutes of poking, pausing (for contractions), and taping, the epidural was FINALLY in place.

Sweet relief.

Sort of. Once the epidural was in, they checked me again: 10cm dilated. It was time to start pushing. This baby was coming by 7am.

And that’s when everything stalled.

7am came and went. 8am. 9am.

Nothing.

Baby was still high up there. They broke my water. I tried pushing for over an hour and a half. I tried laboring down. And I tried every position I could: on each side with a peanut ball, hands and knees, squatting with the squat bar, etc. The nurses remarked that for someone who was supposed to be numb from the waist down, I had surprising mobility.

With each contraction, the room would fill with medical personnel. That was my first clue something wasn’t right. I was listening to Baby’s heart rate monitor and it would slow down when my contractions came. The only position Baby could tolerate was when I was on my hands and knees.

At this point the doctor voiced her concerns: Baby’s heartbeat kept dropping with each contraction and was not recovering. If it drops a few times it is not necessarily cause for concern because babies usually have some reserve. But the heartrate dropped with every single contraction and they were 2-3 minutes apart lasting over a minute.

She said if this continues we are probably looking at a C-section.

Now I’m not the type of person that has an elaborate birth plan. Things rarely go to plan and my strategy for managing expectations is not to have many. Thus, the extent of my birth plan with my first was: I don’t want a C-section.

Because things went relatively smoothly with my first, the thought of having a C-section with my second didn’t even cross my mind.

That is, until it was quickly becoming a reality.

Upon further inspection, the doctor discovered what caused labor to stall.

Baby was transverse.

I’m not sure how or when that happened because they checked on the ultrasound a few hours previously and Baby was head down. Now baby’s head was stuck in my pelvis and was more shoulder first. (X-rays later revealed baby had a dislocated clavicle.) The doctor tried to turn Baby and had me try more positions with no such luck. All the while, the heartrate monitor kept dipping.

The doctor told me that because of the position, I could push for 3 more hours and Baby still wouldn’t be here. But, because of the heartrate concerns, we didn’t have the option to wait.

That is when she said “we’re recommending an urgent C-section.”

With little time to process what was happening, we signed the papers to proceed with the C-section.

The nurse asked the doctor when she would like the operating room prepared and she responded, “as soon as possible.”

The room filled with people. So many were talking at once. A different anesthesiologist came in and explained my options. Luckily I already had an epidural in so they’d just put anesthesia in through there.

11:50 – Next thing I knew I was laying flat on my hospital bed and being wheeled through the hall – kind of like you see in the movies (while secretly hoping that never happens to you). They wouldn’t let my husband come with me yet. He had to stay behind while they got me situated on the operating table.

In the Operating Room

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

No one heard me.

Louder this time: “I’m going to throw up.”

And then it happened. Luckily they heard me that time and people were prepared. Me + hormones + medication don’t mix.

They got me on the table, let my husband come in, put the curtain up, and went to work.

Between the hormones and the medication, I was freezing, shaking uncontrollably and drifting in and out of consciousness. My husband said I’d be talking one minute, out the next, and then talking again. He also thought someone was literally shaking me.

I was trying to remember & recite bible verses to calm my nerves. The minutes felt like hours.

12:04 – the first incision.

Waiting.

Waiting.

& more waiting.

12:12 – The doctor: “Any last guess on the gender?”
Me without hesitation: “It’s a girl.”
“You’re right!”

And that’s how our baby girl was born.

They took her measurements and cleaned her up. 7lbs 11oz and 20.5in long with a full head of dark curly hair.

It was finally my turn to meet her.

She stopped crying as soon as they put her near me and I started talking to her. The first thing I said when I saw her was, “you’re chunky.”

I love chunky babies.

As I’m semi-holding her I just remember being terrified I’d drop her. I got to see her for a few precious minutes before she went off to the nursery with Daddy while they put me back together again.

More Waiting

While waiting for her entry into the world, the minutes felt like hours. Well these next minutes felt like days.

10 minutes went by. 30 minutes. 1 hour. 1.5 hours.

The intense shaking and freezing continued. The anesthesiologist tried to keep me awake with conversation. I felt a lot of tugging and pulling. I told the anesthesiologist I felt like throwing up again to which he responded that they’re *just* putting my intestines back in place and it would be over soon.

It was the most uncomfortable 2 hours of my life.

My baby was far away from me.

The room was fairly quiet. Everyone was concentrating. As they were stitching me up I overheard one say, “It’s okay. It’s not outstanding.”

Very curious as to what that could be…

I tried to distract myself by thinking of baby names.

Once the conversation moved on to a fellow doctor’s relocation preferences, I knew I was in the clear.

It was finally time to hold my baby girl.

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Healing

Time for the healing and processing to begin.

The rest of the hospital stay was much less eventful.

We were the only people in the recovery unit so we had lots of willing nurses to hold her at night so we could sleep(ish). Baby girl only likes to be held so we got lots of snuggles. She ate every 1.5-2 hours. For days. Doctors and nurses came in periodically to ensure my body was beginning to heal as it should – which it was. Meal service was just a phone call away.

Uneventful was nice.

I worried that because I wasn’t there for skin to skin the first 2 hours of her life we wouldn’t bond or she wouldn’t know me or nursing would be difficult. Those fears were unfounded. To this day she still ONLY wants her mama. And to nurse.

We spent some time deciding on a name. The names we previously picked out didn’t seem to fit. I wanted a name to reflect the resilience & perseverance she showed from the beginning. My husband was thinking the same thing, though he went the more stubborn & strong-willed route.

We settled on Matilda, which means mighty in battle.