*Our Baby Adventure*: My *almost* natural birth

It's been almost 6 months since my son entered this world, which seems totally insane. How dare half a year go by so quickly! He is doing all the cool things that 6 month old babies typically do: rolling over, eating solids, smiling, cooing, babbling, and putting EVERYTHING in his mouth. William is such a blessing to our family. I just can't even imagine life without him.

6 months seems like a long time, but when I think back to January 12th, it feels like it was only yesterday. All of the emotions and memories from that day are so fresh. When I look back over my birth photos, I begin to understand why some people have 10 or more children. That moment. There is nothing like it in this world. But, of course, having more children is not always practical, and Brad and I have determined that our family is complete.

I have struggled these past 6 months with something that most people don't understand. Yes, postpartum depression/anxiety has been part of the struggle, but that is not what I am addressing today. The struggle has been my feelings towards my birth experience (*cue eye roll*). Most would define William's birth as textbook. Normal gestation (38 weeks), no complications, vaginal delivery. All WONDERFUL things that I am eternally grateful for. So why am I struggling?

Giving birth is one of those major life events that shape us. Whether the experience was positive or traumatic, bringing a child into the world is a big freakin deal that will undoubtedly stick with you for a long time. With my first child, I didn't realize this (obviously) because I hadn't given birth. The big deal was to bring her into the world safely and bring her home. And while having a healthy mom and baby has always been my number one priority, I learned after having her that having a positive birth experience is also a big deal. For some reason, people can't understand why this should matter. They think that all women should care about is the end result: the healthy baby. Again, this IS the most important aspect of birth, but there is something to be said for a positive birth experience. Would you tell a new bride that she shouldn't care that her wedding dress got a huge stain on it right before the ceremony or that there is a hurricane coming and all of her guests will get soaked in the rain? "You're married, why should you care?" See what I mean?

As previously mentioned, I was minimally involved in my birth for my first child. I took the basic labor classes at my hospital so I would know what to expect. I had a very routine delivery with her. I went into labor, went to the hospital, got my epidural, and gave birth the the most beautiful baby I had ever seen.

Looking back on my first child's birth, the ONLY negative I could find was my experience with the epidural. They gave me way too much medicine, numbing me up to my neck, which was really scary. I didn't regain feeling in my legs for almost 24 hours, limiting my recovery and my ability to care for my newborn baby. Prior to having my first child, I viewed women who went "all natural" for their births as crazy women who just wanted attention. After having my daughter, and talking with my friends who had undergone an unmedicated birth, I realized that there were some major benefits to going the "all natural" route.

When I became pregnant with my son, I knew that I wanted to have an unmedicated birth this time around. I scheduled an appointment with a midwife, but ended up canceling it because I decided I wanted to stick with my OB/GYN. Looking back, I wish I had kept that appointment with the midwife. Although my doctor was able to deliver my baby, she was only there for the last hour or so of my delivery. I went ahead and signed myself up for a natural childbirth class and hired a doula (one of my BFF's from childhood). My other BFF was my birth photographer. My birth team was assembled and I felt ready to bring my son into the world, intervention-free.

Fast forward to 38 weeks gestation when my labor began. I was throwing up pretty intensely and having irregular, but mild, contractions. The on-call doctor, who shall remain nameless, did not even let me speak when I called after about an hour of vomiting. I wanted to explain to her that my contractions were irregular, but that I had been throwing up. I wanted to tell her that I was going to try and labor at home as long as possible, but I was worried that I may be getting dehydrated. I wanted her to LISTEN to me so that I could explain my situation and come up with a plan of action. I could have EASILY labored at home the rest of the night had I known it was safe to do so (which it was). But I was scared, and the sense of urgency in her voice made me feel like it was necessary to go to the hospital immediately. So I did as I was told and off to the hospital I went.

My nurse that night was amazing, She herself had delivered 2 babies without interventions. She was supportive of me and spent almost an hour rubbing my back during my more painful contractions. The on-call doctor continued to pressure me. She did not like the fact that I had taken a Bradley Method class, saying "We don't do Bradley births at this hospital!" She told me that I needed to "stop farting around" and let her break my water so my labor could progress faster, something I had told her I did not want many times. I overheard her talking about me at the nurses station, essentially saying that I was being a difficult patient. I was hurting, I was alone, and I was scared.

Shift change occurred around 7am and my new nurse, while friendly, was not a huge supporter of natural labor. I can't be sure, but I feel like she asked me 10 times if I wanted to go ahead and get the epidural. She would also ask me NUMEROUS times if I wanted to start pitocin or have the doctor break my water. At this point, my labor was progressing slowly, but it was progressing. I was starting to feel like an inconvenience and a burden to all who surrounded me. I was taking too long. I felt like the hospital staff was irritated with me. I was walking the halls and moaning in pain, and I had been there all night. "Can we go ahead and break your water for you?" "We can start some pitocin to get things going." "If you want an epidural, we need to start fluids." I remember telling them no, I did not want these things, but they continued to ask, and I was getting tired.

Around 8:30 my doctor finally arrived. I was beyond relieved to see her. She was warm and comforting. I had stalled at 7cm for a few hours and she convinced me that breaking my water was a minimal intervention that would get things progressing. I knew from having my daughter that contractions become significantly more painful once your water is broken, so I specifically outlined in my birth plan that I did not want to have my water broken. I know I agreed to it simply because I was tired of saying no to the same damn question, and I needed to do SOMETHING to get things moving.

As expected, my contractions intensified almost immediately. It was an intense feeling like I had never experienced in my life. I did my best to endure the contractions. The nurse actually asked me mid contraction if I wanted the epidural. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Do you ask a woman on a diet if she wants a hot fudge sundae? When things got really bad (transition), I started ~~asking~~ begging for the drugs. "HELP ME!" I screamed. The nurses tried checking me during a contraction and I was only at 8cm. At this point I agreed to be hooked up to the fluids just in case I decided to get the epidural. While the timeline is a little blurry at this point, I believe I was checked again and the nurse told me I was at a 9. SO CLOSE. My husband, doula, and birth photographer tried to tell me that I didn't need the epidural because he was right there, but the hospital staff had already called in the anesthesiologist. My hot fudge sundae had arrived, and I was starving. Just 20 minutes after getting the epidural my son was out. One contraction, and about 2 pushes. I had almost done it. Almost.

I spent the next several days in awe of my amazing son, and feeling proud of myself for doing the best I could at an unmedicated birth. Then friend, after friend, after friend, after friend, announced the birth of their child and their successful natural births. I felt ashamed. All of these women, either intentionally or unintentionally, did what I could not. Some of them did not even want an unmedicated birth. It just happened. This added more salt to the wound. I spent months playing the "What if?" game. What if I had kept that appointment with the midwife? What if I had labored at home longer? What if I had chosen a different hospital? What if I had a different nurse? I spent a lot of time and emotional energy into these questions, causing myself a lot of unnecessary stress and sadness. My mom kept telling me that my birth experience was "practically unmedicated" being that I only had the epidural for about 30 minutes, but this did little to make me feel better.

I now realize that what I am most upset about in regards to my birth experience has little to do with receiving an epidural for a half an hour. January Harshe, founder of Birth Without Fear, says it best. "I do not care what kind of birth you have ... a homebirth, a scheduled cesarean, epidural hospital birth, or if you birth alone in the woods next to baby deer. I care that you had options, that you were supported in your choices, and that you were respected." I suppose that these were the things that I felt were missing from my birth experience. I know I can't go back and get a do-over, and I am not going to have another child just to try and achieve an optimal birth. It is what it is, and 6 months later, I have decided I am not going to devote one more ounce of energy to the what-ifs. I am not going to mourn my birth experience the next time someone announces theirs. Life is too short, and this baby is too sweet.