Isla Georgianne's Birth Story

So I know its been a while but things got annoying (i.e. being pregnant and the baby not wanting to come out) and I got annoyed every time someone asked if the baby was here yet (which became a lot towards the end... and I've sworn to myself in the future I will never ask another Mom if her baby's here yet, I can be patient and maybe just ask how she's doing instead). And then I had a baby, little Isla Georgianne. And it didn't exactly go as planned, well, at all. Looking back and reading articles about traumatic births, this was not that. It was just completely unexpected.

On Monday the 16th, a full week after her due date (and after 3 visits to the acupuncturist, 2 swept membranes and walking... walking... walking... every night on the treadmill, plus stairs, all the stairs... and nada), Bill and I were at the midwives office for a NST (non stress test). Unfortunately the baby was a little stressed, so they wanted to keep me on for a little longer. And when she still didn't relax (her heartbeat was going too fast) they decided to send me to the hospital across the street for further monitoring. And while I was being monitored the head midwife, Cathy, came in to say that at this point, since we're here already we should induce. And with that the birth center was out, but honestly the hospital was pretty nice.

Each room had a birth tub and a private shower, plus they had a remote monitor so I could stay mobile, even while being induced. Cathy also let me start off with a foley balloon instead of cervidil to try to induce me as naturally (and as painlessly) as possible. And all the nurses were super sweet, while I was there we saw Jan, Alex, Fran, Nancy, and Fran again... and yes, that was over the course of 34 hours. But more on that later.

So I walked, and I took a shower. I hadn't showered since the day before and wanted to feel good since I figured this was my second birth and it would only be a couple hours until the baby arrived. Bill went home to get our bags and my parents came back with him, so we hung out until it was time for them to pick up Mo. Then my Dad came back and we walked some more for a few hours before he went home to sleep, then Bill and I walked. I'd know that the the foley balloon was having a positive effect because it was supposed to fall out at around 6 cm. But that didn't happen. Cathy meanwhile kept checking in and and finally removed the balloon. I was around 5 cm then. At that point she wanted to break my water, but gave me another hour to see if labor would kick in naturally. I got in the tub at that point, mainly just to see what would happen.

More having a good time relaxing then in the throws of labor

All throughout this point I was only feeling mildly uncomfortable, still getting the same sporadic contractions I'd been having for what felt like weeks, but nothing even remotely labor-like. Once my hour was up, so was my mobility and I got back in the bed for good while they started pitocin. They also attempted to break my water but it was so horribly uncomfortable Cathy stopped and decided to give it a while. At this point Fran was my nurse, the sweetest traveling nurse Grandma from Georgia and she was there holding one hand while Bill held the other. Around 4 am, without getting much sleep at all and the pitocin starting to kick in, I asked for an epidural since I definitely didn't want to get to the screaming point like I had with Mo and have the anesthesiologist be an hour out from coming. Here though he was in the room within minutes and Fran held me while he did his work. As soon as that was done Cathy broke my water.

Bill and I had discussed beforehand about not being a hero (his words). But there's a lot of truth in it. Sure, it's great to have as natural a birth as possible but I had myself to consider- and 27 hours with Mo had wiped me out, plus I was going home to a 3 year old as well as an infant this time. If things had gone smoothly and I was in active labor just a few hours in I'd like to think I could've held out, and certainly I would've had to at the birth center. But here we were approaching 24 hours and I needed my strength, so I wisely decided not to be a hero.

At that point I was really hoping it'd be like my labor with Mo, where I fall asleep and wake up at 10 cm and push for a bit and out pops baby. But by 6 am that still wasn't happening, and I also hadn't been able to rest much either. Cathy's shift was up too and she turned me over to Monika, one of my favorite midwives with a gentle flower child feel to her. Fran also turned me over to Nancy, a no nonsense but sweetheart nurse. After 10a my parents returned, but now it was different. I was exhausted and hungry, being told to sit up as straight as possible in bed in hopes that gravity would help bring on active labor. I was not progressing at all though and even the pitocin wasn't helping things. My epidural was wearing off too and I didn't want to get into the spiral of having them fix it only to have my labor stall out, a la The Busines of Being Born- something I wish I'd never watched. My parents and Bill did the best they could to keep my spirits up but it was hard.

Around 4pm Nancy came back with a high school student who was trailing her as a course for school, and Monika came with a midwife labor specialist. They checked me but I was only around 8cm. That's about when the OB, Dr. Whitcombe, showed up, along with Cathy. Together with Monika and the labor specialist, they told me that my labor wasn't progressing and it may be about time to start thinking about other options (i.e. c-section). Dr. Whitcombe and Cathy explained that this was highly unusual, since a second time mom usually has an easier labor, and that the lack of progression indicated that the baby was too big or that something was wrong to keep the baby from descending. They then gave me some time with my family to think it through but somehow, someone forgot the HS intern so she stayed in the room while I burst into tears. Looking back it's kind of comical but at the time was pretty devastating.

Monika and the labor specialist (LS I'll call her since I've forgotten her name) then decided to try to put me in different positions to help me dilate to make one last ditch effort to have the baby vaginally. Some worked and some sent the baby's heartbeat down, so I felt they would put me in a position, leave, then be back half a second later to reposition me. They also turned off my epidural at this point since they didn't want it to hinder the labor, while turning up with pitocin so I was definitely feeling it at this point. My mom then left to pick up Mo but my Dad stayed to help and be there for me (he was also a nurse anesthetist back before retirement so he'd also chat up the nurses and midwives and they'd talk medical jargon). It was nice though to have a "translator" of sorts, especially as we got into the 11th hour.

Probably an hour or so later Monika and LS returned and checked me and saw that I was 9cm so they decided to let me push and see if that would engage the baby. So we pushed for what seemed like forever but it wasn't working. They decided to let me lay back for 30 minutes and see if that would help but with the pitocin and lack of epidural, plus now we were going on 33 hours since I'd started my induction, which granted wasn't bad but that's also 33 hours with barely any sleep and only some lemon ice to eat, on top of weeks of interrupted sleep... plus there was a clock directly across from my bed so I could see how slowly the time ticked by in between each devastating contraction. I called it at 20 minutes. The midwives checked me again and we tried to push again. Dr. Whitcombe came back (or she may have just been waiting right outside the room the entire time) and told me that with the baby's heartbeat dropping everytime I pushed and without being fully dilated, there really only looked to be one end. She then told me that she will take chances with her own kids but she will not with other peoples, and she was determined to deliver a healthy baby.

ANother funny thing was the texts I was getting from my sisters. My mom was giving them updates, and Teresa texted me saying how sorry she was that my birth plan wasn't working and I'd be getting a c-section. But by that point I was trying to push so I told her hopefully it'd end up with a vaginal delivery. But then an hour later we were back to discussing c-section, then one last ditch effort to push. I wish I'd saved those texts, as it at least shed some light into how I was handling all this, which was pretty devastated at first, then resigned, then at least starting to look on the bright side (2 extra weeks of FMLA paid, no painful tears, etc).

At the end of all that, and looking back, I know that I tried everything possible but something just wasn't right. I did my best to have the birth that I wanted, but at the end of the day, when something's not right it really is just is best to leave it to the experts. I've since read about trauma births and sometimes I wonder, "was this traumatic?" But then I think about Moira's vaginal birth and how I had nurses with no bedside manner, who didn't care about my birth plan, and actually laughed as they read it, my doctor who answered her cell while I was pushing, no one who seemed to care to at least try to do what I wanted to see if it worked. This time I did everything I'd wanted, and had wonderful care from every single nurse to the doctors and midwives, even to the security guard who chatted us up when we walked in (could he see how scared we were about Isla's heartbeat?), and that was ultimately what made the experience for me. Yes I ended up with a c-section, but everyone was kind and patient and understanding and really tried to still give me the birth I wanted, and looking back, I feel nothing but joy that I had a healthy baby.

So if you hadn't guessed, I had my Dad bring Monika back in the room and I called it. She brought in Dr. Whitcombe (who'd definitely been waiting right outside this time, my Dad said), and they got right to work. Anesthesiologist was called back, papers were signed, gowns and caps were put on. I said goodbye to my Dad and was whisked to surgery. My Dad did grab Bill and told him whatever he did, not to peak over the curtain during the procedure (wise words). They had Bill wait outside while they set up the room and prepped me, everyone checked in, and it basically ran like a well-oiled machine, probably less then 5 minutes from the time we left my L&D room. Bill came in, sat beside my head and at 8:45pm our baby girl was born. The anesthesiologist brought her to us too so we could announce that it was a girl, and then my midwife Monika took my phone and started taking pictures of the baby. Once she was cleaned up Monika brought her to me and laid her on my check while the Drs started to put me back together. At some point I got nauseous and was given something but other than that it was extremely efficient and painless. And it turned out that the cord was wrapped around Isla's neck, which is likely why I was having such a hard time getting labor to progress, and what would've likely led us down this path ultimately anyways.

They then took the baby out to the nursery to be weighed and Bill went with her. The remaining time they were sewing me up was the only time I felt scared, as I kept nodding off but was determined to stay awake, but then wouldn't remember where I was or why I couldn't feel my fingers. Then they brought me to recovery and Fran came in. I was absolutely parched at that point and my lips were so dry so Fran got me some ice chips and proceeded to tell me how she went from a one horse town nursing gig to deciding to travel as her daughters left home and how she loved getting out of Georgia. She explained how exciting it was to be so near NYC and told me how she went out in the city on Halloween and was just enthralled with all the people. At some point Bill came in, then Fran's traveling nurse friend joined us, and she just chatted and it really made the time fly. And as they were wheeling me to my postpartum room I got to ring the bell that went off throughout the whole hospital letting everyone know a baby had just been born.

So that's Isla's birth story. I've joked that if we had another kid (we won't) I'd opt for a c-section in a heartbeat. It was quick, relatively painless (in comparison) and the level of care was amazing. I also bounced back relatively quickly, which was a lifesaver with Mo at home. Now my scar is just a hint of a smile right below my belly. And Isla is thriving... well more than thriving. She's 85% for weight, nearly sleeping through the night, nursing like a champ and now giving us such sweet smiles and giggles. And Moira is the best big sister you could imagine. Helpful and loving and very concerned when Isla cries, or spits up, or has a blowout. There's really no better gift then having two perfect little girls who already love each other so much.