Yesterday I read a posting of someone's birth story, which she wrote practically from the delivery room, so I figured I should get my act together and post my story, too. Here goes...
We went to the hospital on the morning of December 31st, after our previous day's appointment revealed Simon's estimated size to be 4,400 grams (ten pounds). When we arrived at the hospital, we had another ultrasound, which confirmed the size, and decided to go ahead with inducing the birth. No need to wait until he got even bigger. After a long CTG (fetal heart monitor), I got my first pill (actually 1/4 of a pill, so they know how your body reacts). We then went upstairs to check in to the room and have some delicious hospital food. My roommate was also being induced, although she had started the process the day before, with no results. She was a Turkish woman married to a German, although the nurse introduced her as "Spanish or something."
Four hours later, we had another CTG and half a pill. We went back upstairs with instructions to walk around and keep moving - but not too much or the baby would come on the 31st and then we wouldn't get Elterngeld (the new tax break). About an hour later, as we were walking the halls of the hospital, my water broke. We went back down to the delivery area, gushing with each step. We had another CTG and then stayed put in the delivery area. My contractions started after that, but for many hours they were quite manageable. It's possible that we had dinner, but I have no memory of that. We went outside periodically to walk around the hospital grounds, with fireworks exploding around us. The whole thing was rather surreal - to be walking in circles around the hospital building, stopping every few minutes to have a contraction, and hearing rockets exploding.
At some point, the night shift came on and we stayed in the delivery area because my roommate had gone to sleep. Luckily, there was no one else in labor during that time, so we had the whole ward and staff to ourselves. I rolled around on a yoga ball for a while, which helped, until my knees couldn't take the weight any more. Unsure of what to do next, the midwife suggested getting in the bath. She moved us into a delivery room and I climbed into the bath just after midnight. I stayed in the bath for about an hour, watching the fireworks outside the window.
Shortly after that, I decided that the contractions were too painful and asked for some medication, which the midwife had been offering me for quite a while. They gave me something to lessen the pain and relax me. For the next few hours, I would have a contraction, fall asleep, then have another contraction, and so on. I have no idea how long this lasted, but at some point, the drip was empty and my contractions started coming really quickly and strong. Nico went to get the midwife. She said that the medicine had run out, but that they couldn't give me anything else for two hours. The only other option was a PDA (what the Germans call an epidural). "Yes," I managed to get out in between moans. She went to call the anathesiologist, who took like a million hours to get there. The whole time I was thinking, 'How am I going to stop rocking back and forth long enough for them to put the PDA in??' When she arrived, she began explaining the risks associated with a PDA, with Nico reading me a list of medical history questions. I have no idea what anyone is talking about at this point. I AM pain.
And then my body snapped - my water broke a second time and my body started pushing Simon out. The midwife saw what was happening and told me she needed to examine me to see where the head was. There's the head - no time for a PDA, we need you to get on the birthing bed now! Somehow I manage to coordinate my arms and legs and climb on the bed, all kinds of things gushing out of me now. "Okay, with the next contraction we need you to push." Don't have to wait long before the next contraction comes and I'm pushing and screaming. "Close your mouth, don't push into your throat!" "Push into my throat?!" I think, "I don't even know what that means. Why would I push into my throat?" So I'm pushing and screaming and pushing and screaming and it feels like my whole body is going to tear open. Then there's some commotion, something is wrong, they don't think he's going to come out. I'm worried, but I don't really know what's going on. There are whispered conversations, the doctor is pulled out into the hallway for more whispered conversations. Later I find out that they were trying to reach the lead doctor, but he was not answering his page. So they called the chief doctor of the hospital. Simon's heart rate is down, so now they need me to really push (as if I wasn't "really" pushing before).
By now there are two doctors, three midwives and Nico in the room, some of them holding my legs, one holding my head up, and the chief doctor, with each contraction, using his forearm and full body weight to lean on my belly and help push Simon out. People tell me that this usually hurts. That's certainly possible, but the bigger focal point of my pain was elsewhere. Everyone is yelling at me to push (duh!), to push like I'm trying to go to the toilet. And that's basically what it feels like - trying to get out a ten pound poo. (A cute little poo, but still...) I really feel like yelling back at them "I AM pushing!" (Nico says I did) And I am screaming so loud and crying in between each contraction, saying "I can't. I can't. I can't." Each time, they all say, "Come on, just one more push." And each time I push , they tell me to keep pushing, keep pushing, keep pushing, until I don't have any breath left and they say, "keep pushing, he's almost there." I'm pushing so hard and not breathing and I feel like my head is going to explode. And finally, with one long push, I feel him slide out and everyone is saying, "He's okay, he's okay." Nico is hugging me and crying and they lift Simon up and put him on my chest and I'm holding this wet, warm, wonderful creature and I can hardly believe it. Wow.
