sometimes you give birth to a kid.

I love my baby. I love him so much i can hardly comprehend it. It actually terrifies me how much I love him because it makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. However, what I loved less was the process of giving birth to  him. That's not to say I HATED giving birth because things were relatively easy and we both made it out healthy and alive but... let me explain.

I hate that I have to even say that. That I didn't *like* to give birth. I did so much research about childbirth. I would almost say that I knew too much for my own good. I knew that my body knew exactly what it needed to do and the pain was just my body doing the work of getting my baby out. I knew that I wanted to have a natural labor with a midwife at a birth center. To my dismay though, that wasn't how it was going to work for me. When I got pregnant I discovered that my insurance would cover EVERYTHING in a hospital and NOTHING with anything else. Some women would say, "it's worth the 5 grand +!" but that wasn't really in the cards for us. SO I made the best with what I had. I created a birth plan and told my doctors that I wanted to have a natural birth and they were on board. I wasn't delusional by any means, I knew that sometimes things happen when you have a baby and things don't go the way you want. 

BUT, things were going well for me. I had a very healthy pregnancy. My blood pressure was perfect, my pee was clean, my glucose levels were fine, Emerson's heart rate was perfect and his head was down, I was gaining the exact right amount of weight etc etc. So I figured, having the birth I want, should be no problem. I even chose to deliver at a hospital that was totally cool with women having natural deliveries. Everything was fine.

Then, my due date came and went. My OB asked me if I wanted to be induced. I said no. He'd come when he was ready.  So I waited and kept going in for my check ups. To my dismay, my blood pressure started creeping up at each subsequent visit. When I went in at 41 week 5 days, my BP was too high for my OB to be comfortable with so he said we needed to induce. My heart sank. So, we discussed the ways to get labor started and we came to an agreement that I was most comfortable with. I was grateful to have a doctor that listened to my concerns, discussed things through with me, and didn't bully me into things I didn't want. 

So we went home to get all my stuff I had packed. After that, we said a prayer in the car and stopped for lunch and went to the hospital. I wasn't even nervous. Why wasn't I nervous? I have no idea. I was about to experience something completely insane and then my life would be changed forever afterwards and there was no turning back. But at 12:45 PM on 11/11 I was like, no big deal, Let me put on this hospital gown that someone probably died in at some point and watch Honey Boo Boo while my cervix ripens. So for the first few hours, that's what I did.

Apparently contractions were coming but I couldn't feel them other than a little tightening. I would occasionally get up, walk around, pee, snack, whatever. Then I would have to get back in bed to check my blood pressure and the baby's heart rate. Fortunately, as I relaxed my blood pressure started to go down, but it wasn't down very much. And then I had to get Antibiotics in an IV because I was GBS positive and that burned my veins. It was really uncomfortable. At about 5:45 my OB came in to see how I was doing. He decided it would be best if he broke my water. I wasn't super stoked about that. But my BP was betraying me. So he did. And once he did, things really got going. I started to feel the contractions and within three hours they got really intense. At that point I had switched nurses and the new nurse was someone who had delivered her babies naturally, so she showed Taylor how to push my legs and knees into my hips to help relieve of some the pain during contractions. It did help a lot. What I really wanted was to get up and walk around but I had to get another round of antibiotics and my blood pressure was creeping up again. So I was stuck in the bed in pain. I did my best to work through them with the help of my wonderful husband but by 10:45 PM I was exhausted and at my wits end and my blood pressure was insanely high. Like I was about to have a stroke. It was like 200/110 or something. The last time I was checked I was at 5cm, and about an hour later I started having urges to push and my contractions were out of control. At one point I had 3 contractions that overlapped each other and the peak of the pain lasted about 5 minutes straight and the baby was squirmy so they had me on my side to get his heart rate which for some reason intensified the pain of the contractions and all I could do was lay on the bed and writhe and scream in pain.  So the nurse checked me again and I was at 8cm. I was so relieved to know that the pain was actually moving things along. I thought, Okay, I can definitely do this! I'm almost there! So I asked how much longer, and she told me 3-4 hours at the most. At that point I wanted to cry. I looked that nurse right in the eyes and told her I wanted the epidural. It was strange because I had always feared getting to that point in hospital, where I broke down and decided I wanted drugs and I would get it because it was available even though I probably could have done it without it. But in that moment, I was so exhausted, I would try to close my eyes and rest and then a contraction would hit and rest was not an option and so when I decided to get the epidural, I felt no guilt, I felt no fear, I was in survival mode.

when the anesthesiologist came in I felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Apparently I wasn't breathing very well so they put an oxygen mask on me. Looking back, I'm not sure if I should have been more scared about that mask but I didn't care. contractions were still coming every minute or so. When he told me I had to hold perfectly still while he jabbed me with that sweet sweet poison I was genuinely scared of being paralyzed or something. But I did it. I had a super intense contraction during that moment but I squeezed Tayl's hand as hard as I could and then it was over. 11:45 PM Within minutes I started to feel relief. For the first time in hours, I was able to smile. I wanted to kiss that anesthesiologist on the mouth. I was back to being excited about my baby coming. The strangest part of the epi was that I could move my legs, and I could still feel when I was having a contraction, but I just didn't feel any pain. I thought I would basically be useless from the waist down.

So I was finally able to just rest, I actually slept. Not well, because I could still feel the contractions (not pain). But, it was the rest I needed. I'm not sure I would have been able to push the baby out of me otherwise. Also, my blood pressure dropped dramatically. I was back in normal ranges. Around 4 AM, I started to push and blah blah blah I'll spare you the gory details but at 5:10 AM my little perfect goopy bundle of joy came out of my womb and into this crazy world at 8 pounds 5 oz and 21 inches long.

Looking back, as time has passed, I am totally okay with how things went down. BUT, the first few days I felt a little internal guilt for getting drugged up while I was giving birth to my baby. It made me upset to even think about it. I was ashamed. I didn't think I would ever be able to tell people my birth story let alone put it on my blog. But in the end, I did what was best for both of us in my situation. As we approach Emerson's one month mark, the most valuable thing I have learned is that the worst thing I can do is go online and read what other mom's are doing or have done. Mom world is a scary world. I'm not an expert... yet. But my baby is healthy and growing and happy and so am I, and so that means I'm doing okay. And everyone else in mom world who judges, can suck it.