Zero to Sixty: A Birth Story

I didn't think I would be meeting her so soon, but there I was, laying with my freshly born daughter on my chest not 4 hours after I had been admitted into the hospital. I was in complete shock and awe of what we had just accomplished together and felt more exhausted than I had ever been in my life, but was riding a high I can't quite explain. 

Lucy Evelyn Jamieson came fast and furious into this world on March 20th, 2018, the first day of spring. It was 3 days before her due date. She was 8lbs 2oz and 20 inches long. This is our story. In hindsight, I should have pre-packed that hospital bag.... 

Monday, March 19th 4:00pm: It was the first day of my maternity leave and I was sitting in the waiting room for my 39 week appointment, waiting for the doctor to call my name. I was thinking about all I'd be able to get done now that I was on leave and had a week or two to prepare for our little human. Clearly, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I would be meeting my daughter in a little over 24 hours. 

During the appointment my doctor did a check for the first time to see if I was making any progress. Much to my surprise I was 2cm dilated and baby was sitting extremely low in my pelvis. My cervix was also extremely thin. In other words, baby, and I, were ready.  The doctor suggested she do a membrane sweep to potentially move things along and help avoid induction if I was to be overdue. I was a little hesitant because I didn't want any interventions when it came to labour or delivery. Technically this was an intervention, a more natural one than being medically induced, yes, but an intervention all the same. I had done my research prior to our appointment and knew that this wouldn't work unless I was ready anyway, and there was essentially no risk besides a little discomfort during the procedure. I decided to go ahead with it.

I called Mitch immediately after the appointment.

"So, just a heads up... We could be parents in 24-48 hours." I explained what I just did and it's potential outcome.

There was silence on the other end then:

"Seriously?" he mumbled. He was a little stunned I could tell. Mr. "I can't wait for the baby to get here" was now shitting his pants a little at the thought of it actually being real. I was too.

"Probably won't happen though," I told him.

I headed home not expecting much. As a first time Mom, everyone and anyone is eager to tell you "Oh, you'll be at least a week late for sure," "I was 15 days overdue with my first" etc etc.  So even though I didn't think I would be having a baby anytime soon, I did what any rational pregnant woman would do knowing there was still a slight chance - I stayed up until midnight making a bunch of lasagnas and chilli to freeze. Obviously. By the time I was finished I was too tired to pack a bag so I made a mental note to do that in the morning. I had time... 

Tuesday, March 20th 3:30am: I rolled over in bed. Ok I made that sound way too easy for someone who was 39+4 weeks pregnant. I'm already forgetting. I struggled to pick my hips up off the bed and shimmied my butt to the side while holding onto the headboard to help rotate my upper body. I felt a gush of fluid.

"Shit, shit shit. What was that?" I rolled (literally) out of bed and went to the bathroom. I found a wet spot about the size of my fist in my underwear and it had soaked through to my pants.

"That couldn't have been my water breaking, was it?" I thought.

I went back into the bedroom and woke Mitch. I told him I thought my water broke but wasn't sure. I stood there, pants-less next to the bed, rambling on to a half-asleep Mitch, trying to decide what to do next and trying to determine if it was pee or fluid, when all of a sudden the flood gates opened and a bucket sized amount of water came rushing out of me. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Ok yeah, my water just broke..." 

"Ummm, ya think?" Mitch jumped out of bed and started packing things up and getting ready to make the drive to the hospital.

Me? I stood in the bedroom, still pants-less, in shock. I knew I needed to start packing my bag, but my brain wouldn't make my feet work. Not to mention I was dealing with water flowing out of me at the rate of a bucket a minute. When I finally snapped out of it, I threw a few random things in a bag and shoved a massive wad of paper towel down my pants. We put a towel down in the front seat of the car, and off we went, roll of paper towel in hand.

Tuesday, March 20th, 5:30am: When we got to the hospital I had completely soaked through several giant wads of paper towel right through to my pants.  I walked (read, waddled) to the registration desk. We saw a number of people sitting in chairs along the wall and a place to take a number. It didn't seem like a take a number type situation to us, but we did all the same. The number we pulled was miles away from the number lit up on the wall but we sat down. Well, Mitch sat, I stood. I was soaked and would only make a mess of the chairs. We waited a while and heard one of the people at the desks call out "Can I help who's next." Okay, so maybe this wasn't a take a number situation after all. It was so confusing! We went up to the desk and got registered and waited for a nurse to come and get us.

Tuesday March 20th, 6:00am: A nurse brought us into the triage area and asked me a few questions and looked at my chart. She then had me collect some fluid on a slide so they could determine if in fact my water had broken (as if there was any question at this point). Because I was GBS positive I would need IV antibiotics during labor, so they started the first round and hooked me up to a monitor to see how the baby was doing. Everything looked great and I was even having contractions (although all I could feel was some mild cramping at that point). 

I asked the nurse what the next steps were since my labor hadn't started yet. She told me they would have to induce me since my water broke and I was at higher risk of infection. "That's what I was afraid of" I thought. I asked not to be induced and for some time for labor to start on it's own. I had mentally prepared for an unmedicated birth. I wanted the best start for the little human growing inside of me and this was the best way I knew how to do that. She called my doctor and she agreed to let me wait it out. 

Since it was too far to go home on the change that my labor did start, and we had 8 hours to kill until my next dose of antibiotics, we decided to head to my grandparents house to wait. 

Tuesday March 20th, 12:00pm: On our way to my grandparents house I felt the cramping in my abdomen get a little stronger. I looked at Mitch "That felt different, maybe it's starting!"

And start it did... Not long after we got to the house my contractions started to get more intense and frequent to the point where I deemed it necessary to start timing them. We had been up since 3:30am and knowing what laid ahead I tried to take a nap, but the contractions were coming too frequently and they were too powerful to sleep through. Even though the timing of them was still sporadic (some were 6 minutes apart, some 2 minutes apart) and not consistently following the 4-1-1 rule I had a feeling in my gut that we should go back to the hospital. So back we went.

Tuesday March 20th, 3:30pm: We got to the hospital and re-registered and were told to sit in the waiting room. The nurse came to get us and when we walked past the nurses desk in the triage centre, my doctor was there standing. She smiled. I pointed and laughed at her. 

"Did I do this to you?" She was laughing.

"I think you did...."

"You're welcome???" More laughs.

The nurses brought me up to the delivery room where I changed into a gown and from there things went from zero to sixty and before I knew it I was pushing. It was very intense and there was a point where I thought I couldn't continue on, but Mitch and the nurses kept encouraging me - telling me what a rockstar I was and how I was making it all look so easy. I got through each contraction by pacing the room, back and forth, back and forth. I could not sit or lie down. I needed to be moving or the pain intensified. 

Before going into labor I figured I would be the type to need constant support and to be comforted by Mitch throughout. I don't have a high pain tolerance and I didn't peg myself to be that physically and mentally strong, but I barely looked to Mitch for help the whole time. I was there experiencing the pain, but at the same time I wasn't. I was in a completely different world. I barely spoke, focused on getting through the next contraction, pacing the room, breathing. I definitely could not have done it without Mitch though. He was so great the entire time. When things got intense and I forgot to breathe, I would hear Mitch breathing right there next to me and it brought me back to reality, calmed me down and slowed my breath. He made sure I drank water, dragged my IV poll around until it could be unhooked, got me cold cloths for the back of my neck, held my hair when I puked, supported my body when I was pushing. He was amazing and it was a glimpse into what an amazing father he is going to be, that he is already! 

When it was finally time to push I found it to be a relief, and definitely not as painful as the contractions had been. It was something I finally had a little bit of control over and that felt good. But during the last few pushes, as Lucy made her way into the world, the pain was the most intense I've ever experienced (or didn't experience. I still can't comprehend it), I think I almost blacked out. And then, no pain - just joy. I heard the nurses call out to Mitch:

"What is it Mitch?"

"I can't tell!!" He stumbled. 

"It's a girl!"  My little Lucy. All warm and snuggly on my chest. My heart melted when she cried and we just laid there taking each other in for a while. She peed all over me within a few minutes of being born. I called out:

"She peed!" I was laughing and smiling because my daughter peeing all over me was something I now found adorable. She even suckled her first drops of colostrum right there in the delivery room. It felt amazing to be starting such a special bond with her. I was a proud mama.

While we laid there together I was riding the best high of life. I felt so empowered. What we just accomplished together was amazing and rare and likely the hardest thing I will ever do in my life. I found out later that some nurses stayed past their shift to watch and experience it all with us. Apparently they don't get to see an unmedicated birth very often and one of the student nurses said I was her very first she'd ever seen. That felt really amazing. They told me that the epidural rate at the IWK was 90%.  NINETY PERCENT. I was shocked. I knew not many people choose to give birth this way but I had no idea it was so few. I then wondered how many of the 10% actually chose to go unmedicated versus not having the option because it was too late for them. I felt so proud to be part of such a small special group of women. 

So to all the women out their who think they can't. You so totally can. Sometimes you don't have a choice (baby's make their own plans, things happen, a healthy baby is what is most important now matter how they are born), but if you do have a choice, you CAN get through it. Your body was 100% made to do this if you give in and let go of control, I promise you, you will never experience anything more amazing and empowering. I felt on top of the world. 

That night we snuggled her and obsessed over her and told her how much we loved her already. I knew life was never going to be the same.