Be warned, this is a novel. I didn't mean to make it so long, but that's just how it turned out. I'm not sure anyone really cares 9 1/2 weeks after the fact, but for my own benefit I wanted to write about Persephone's birth. So get comfy, if you're hardy enough to delve in, you are going to be here a while.
Persephone Jean Watkins
February 22, 2010 9:47 pm
7 lbs. 2 oz. 19.5 in.
In many regards, with Persephone’s birth I felt like a first-timer all over again. Reflecting on Lincoln's delivery, I feel partially robbed of the full birth experience. Being an actual first-timer with Lincoln, I tried to educate myself, but essentially I guessed at what I wanted and hoped for the best. It is so hard to know what you want before you have any experience. Because my mom was visiting for a limited time and because I was otherwise impatient, when we discovered at a check up that I was dilated to 5 cm we decided to go to the hospital and break my water and get that baby here! I think his birth would not have ended in a cesarian if we had let things go more naturally. Perhaps.
I decided I might be in labor about 10:00 am the morning of February 22. Being plagued by what felt like an excessive amount of Braxton-Hicks throughout my pregnancy and given that with Lincoln I dilated so much without feeling anything unusual, I was pretty much oblivious to what my body was doing that morning. I was tired and uncomfortable, but that was nothing new. All I had experienced with Lincoln was breaking the water, waiting a few minutes, and wham-o! Contractions! No guessing about that. I didn’t figure it out until I realized my lower back hurt during these “Braxton Hicks” and that they were oddly coming at 4-5 minute intervals. When they didn't subside I called Uriah to say, “I think I might be in labor.” He wasted little time excusing himself from work and coming home. We called my mom and she came to pick up Lincoln around noon. He was thrilled to go to Grandma’s house and mostly unconscious of all the excitement. Actually, there was very little excitement for him to notice. Whenever I felt a contraction I would stop moving and between breaths say, “Here’s another one.” Uriah would write down the time and that was about it.
After Lincoln and my mom left, Uriah and I went on a walk and enjoyed, between contractions, the warm spring-like day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. There were even some flowers blooming. How’s that for a February day? Not quite once around the block I decided I’d had enough frolicking in nature. I shuffled home at top nine months pregnant speed. Uriah somehow managed to keep up. Although a more-or-less pointless undertaking, I decided to start off the night’s events fresh and clean so I took a shower. By 5 pm the contractions were becoming much more uncomfortable; we decided we’d better hightail it to the hospital.
Finally, at ten minutes to 7 pm we moved to the delivery room. My top speed was not improving. I wasn’t sure I was going to make the journey on my own, but I did...eventually. When we got there the same nurse that asked Uriah to sit in the hall had to ask me some strange questions like: Are you part of any experimental treatments? I responded by saying, “No, I’m not a lab rat.” I thought that was pretty good humor for a woman in labor. Apparently it wasn’t a sufficient answer because two questions later he asked me again. Did you not hear me? Uriah and I gave each other a look that said, “This guy is weird.” Once he finished his scatterbrained interrogation, I decided that I was going to ask for a new nurse because I did not want this guy anywhere near me. Uriah, who was not thrilled with him either for asking him to wait in the hallway, later told me that he was going to ask for a replacement as well. Thankfully neither of us had to do that because he left and we got a new nurse who I liked about a million times better.
I also got a different midwife with the shift change, one I had not met before. By this time the contractions were getting really, really intense so I could only manage a Hi. Nice to meet you. Having contraction. Can’t talk. Or something like that. Some part of my brain was a concerned about the switch, but there wasn’t time to think about it. I am so, so glad she is the midwife I got. She was awesome and such a blessing. She made sure of my wishes to go all natural and assured me that she would not suggest any pain medication unless I brought it up first. This helped tremendously with my determination because I remember reaching a point where if anyone had recommended an epidural my resolve would have disintegrated. She was very positive and helpful for both me and Uriah giving encouragement and suggestions about how to labor that actually worked. I tried a couple of positions, but as with Lincoln my legs and arms turned to jelly and holding any of my own weight was becoming a shaky ordeal. So I ended up in the stereotypical position on my back. Supposedly there are better ways to labor, but I couldn’t manage any of them. She said she could break my water if I wanted her to. I said no or maybe I didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter much since it broke moments later on it’s own.
I remember with Lincoln's birth someone telling me I was so amazing for being able to hold back the urge to push. The thing is I never knew what they were talking about until I had Persephone. This time when my midwife told me not to push there was no force on heaven or earth that was going to stop me. I had absolutely no choice but to push. It was so weird. I guess I made it through transition faster than expected. I pushed for about an hour and a half which felt like an eternity. It was not surprising though, since this was my first vaginal birth.
It was wonderful to be together with our baby, to hold her right away and absorb her every feature. With Lincoln all I got was a brief glance as he flew over my head and out of view. After he was all cleaned up and I had missed sharing his first moments with my husband, I got to hold him for a few precious minutes while they stitched me up, but then had to spend the better part of an hour alone in the recovery room. I was too exhausted at the time to complain or realize what I was missing, but later felt great sadness about it. So with Persephone I just soaked it all in. The first hour uninterrupted with Uriah and our daughter made the pain and effort of labor worth it in every way.
A not-great feature about the hospital is the shared recovery rooms. Luckily we were put in the largest one and the other mom didn’t mind if Uriah stayed with me. If she had objected, Uriah would have had to go home and I would have been very grumpy about it. Even though the hospital staff was pretty good about leaving us alone that night, I wasn’t able to sleep much if at all. My mind was still reeling from the “excitement” of labor and my new-found infatuation with the tiny, nameless being sleeping nearby.
The next morning we were inundated by hospital people. I had a nurse and a midwife to check on me. Persephone had a nurse and a pediatrician. There were at least three nurses in training and their supervisors. There was the hearing-tester. There was the psychology research team who wanted to do a language response test on our baby. There were the food delivery people. There was the room cleaner guy and who knows who else. And this was just my side of the room. The other mom had her own entourage. They were all tripping over each other to do this and check that, a question here, a pain pill there. Here let us check your vitals for the umpteenth time. Oh good, you're still alive. Phew! Now someone else will check your baby's vitals. It felt like a circus. As one vitals checker left the next was waiting out in the hallway to do the same exact thing. Does no one communicate in hospitals? Somewhere in all the hullabaloo I managed to get a shower, and we somehow had time to name our baby before some of my family, including Lincoln, came to visit that afternoon.
Lincoln's reaction to Persephone at the hospital was rather shy. I think he felt overwhelmed by all the eyes on him, waiting to see what he thought. At first he didn't want to hold or have much to do with her. He was more interested in jumping off the chairs and crawling on the floor. Ick! He finally gave her some shy looks and a kiss before he left. This has definitely worn off and she now gets plenty of big brother love.One thing I found strange was the exuberant response I received from everyone about having an all natural, unmedicated birth. It seemed like every hospital person had heard about it and wanted to give me a high-five. Way to go mom! You're awesome! Yay! All the attention made me feel like the only mom who's ever labored without an epidural. I just wanted to ensure the best I could that this birth did not end in cesarian. After two cesarians, no one will touch you for a VBAC. I did not want to be backed into that corner. So we took the don’t-mess-with-nature approach and it worked. I wish I had been more hardcore in that approach with Lincoln's birth and gone into labor on my own. It's hard to say, and second guessing doesn't change anything, but I think things would have been different.
After two nights eating food that must be designed to keep people in the hospital we were finally able to take home our sweet baby. On the way out our nurse kindly reminded us of the hospital's no return policy. Uriah's retort: "We'll see you in 9 months." Ha. Ha. Ha.
