Natural vs. Epidural Childbirth

I'm still having a hard time sorting out my feelings on this topic. If you asked me straight up which way was better, I don't know if I would have an answer for you. There were many other circumstances that factored into my getting an epidural for my previous births, but I think a lot of that was due to where I was rather than the birth experience itself.

That's as good a place as any to start. Both girls were born in a hospital in Utah. Those hospital experiences were vastly different than my time here in a Wisconsin hospital. With Elsie's birth, I didn't really know what to expect. I tend to research a lot when I am pregnant, but with each pregnancy I've delved deeper and deeper into childbirth. I knew physically what was going to happen, but I didn't really look into the whole epidural/natural aspect. I gave birth in a hospital that liked epidurals and pitocin, so I ended up with an epidural shortly after arriving (after being offered one several times), and then was put on pitocin an hour later when I hadn't "progressed" enough for them.

(I have a hard time comparing anything to Alice's birth since there were a lot of special circumstances that resulted in me having an induction and epidural. See note at the end of the post.)

In Utah, it felt like everything was done by the book, almost like they were checking off boxes for childbirth. I was checked every hour to see how I had progressed. They made notes of the monitors for the baby and contractions instead of looking at me and how I was doing. Everything was brightly lite and the monitors were noisy. There was a definite rhythm to the Labor and Delivery ward, and I was supposed to fall in line with it. When I reached a certain dilation, I was told to start pushing. I pushed for about an hour before the doctor even showed up.

Granted, at the time I was perfectly alright with it. It was my first baby, my first time giving birth, and I was glad someone was telling me what to do. I trusted that they knew what was going on and I did everything they told me to. It is only now, after I've had a different experience, that I look back and see how little control or say I had in how I gave birth.

Here in Wisconsin, it was different. Even in the triage room, the lighting was dim and calm and quiet. Even when I was hooked up to the monitors, I don't remember anything beeping at me, except the occasional blood pressure reading. The nurse watched and listened to me to see how far apart my contractions were, not a screen. Including my time in triage, I think I was only checked to see how dilated I was three times in my whole eight hours of labor.

I think the major difference was the level of trust and respect that I was shown by my doctors and nurses in Wisconsin. They listened to me and what I said and watched how I acted, and then responded accordingly. I told them that I tend to be posterior and dilate slowly up to a certain point, and then all of a sudden I'm all the way open and ready to push. Not only did I feel like they took me at my word, but during one of my checks the doctor confirmed to me "oh yeah, I see what your saying, when this happens you'll probably be ready to go." Even when I started having a lot of extra bleeding before birth, they knew my birth history, knew it probably wouldn't be too much longer before he was born, and once they determined that the baby was safe, were satisfied that my body could get the job done.

Everything I read about giving birth naturally in a hospital felt like it was trying to prepare me to the fact that I would have to fight for my natural birth. If I wasn't 100% sure, if Alan was 100% supportive, I would end up with an epidural because hospitals are more comfortable with women giving birth with epidurals. Aside from when they asked if I intended to get pain relief in triage, no one ever said "epidural" to me. All I ever heard from everyone was how great I was doing and how well I was handling the contractions.

So how much of my experiences were due to natural/epidural, vs where I gave birth? It is all still very much muddled in my mind. How can I say that Clark's birth was better than Elsie's, when at the time they happened I was very satisfied with both experiences? They were both what they needed to be at the time they happened, and I'm alright with that.

Aside from the actual birth experience, I think I can confidently say that the recovery has been better with natural childbirth. The initial flood of emotions and relief after he came out helped counter balance all of the extra messing around the doctors had to do because of my bleeding. I ended up with stitches, like with my previous births, but besides the first day where I was a little sore, I really haven't had any pain or soreness associated with that region. Moving around in the hospital afterwards was a lot easier. I remember having to wake Alan up during the night to get the girls out of the bassinet because it hurt too much to sit up and grab them. With Clark, I was crawling over and in and out of the bed without difficulty. I have still had the postpartum baby blues (which are going on right now), so it would seem natural birth hasn't had any effect on that.

My final observation would have to be about body image. I'm soft and squishy in all sorts of awkward places, but all I can think about is that I carried and pushed out a NINE AND A HALF POUND BABY!! My body is awesome! It's amazing! Not only did it do that, but now it's making enough food for said huge baby with a matching appetite. I'm the heaviest I've ever been non-pregnant, and I don't even care. I think I look amazing and I feel amazing. I feel confident that my body will bounce back when it needs to; it's done a phenomenal job and all I need to do is be nice to it right now. I don't think I ever felt like this after my previous births.

Would I do it naturally again? Asking me that right now is kind of like asking me if I want to be pregnant again. Give me a few months and then maybe I'll have an answer.

Note: Up until 36 weeks of pregnancy with Alice, I had a complete placenta previa and was expected to deliver via c-section. One final ultrasound at 36 weeks showed that the placenta had moved just barely enough that I could try for a vaginal delivery, but the risk of c-section was still very much present. I was induced so they could closely monitor her birth, and then chose to have an epidural so if I did end up with an emergency c-section, I would be able to be awake and present for the birth. I didn't end up with a c-section, but if she hadn't of come out as fast as she did I very well could have had one.

Here Comes The Son

Disclaimer: This is a Birth Story. If that's not your thing, you've been warned.

Saturday, November 9th. I was very much done with being pregnant. With my due date the next day, I was officially the most pregnant I had ever been (both girls were born a few days early). My mom had already been in town since Wednesday night and had taken over most of the child care and food making responsibilities so I could focus on being miserably pregnant. I had already done everything I wanted to do before the baby got here; spent a morning with Elsie at her school, finished washing and sorting all of the baby things, almost finished a massive quilt top project I'd been working on... The only thing left to do was go to the BYU-Wisconsin football game being played in Madison. Alan and I got on our custom made Cougar Blue, kissed the kids goodbye, and headed into the city.

In true 9 month pregnancy form, I couldn't even make it to the stadium before I made Alan stop and pull over...

The game started at 2:30pm. We got there early, paid some lady to park in her yard close to the stadium, walked through a couple of tailgate parties where someone asked if I wanted a beer, and headed to the game. Our seats were on the opposite side of the stadium way up high, so we had a lot of stairs and ramps to navigate before finally getting to our seats. Our section had a good amount of blue in it, and it was a really fun environment. We clapped and cheered and sang the fight song along with everyone else. Around the 2nd quarter I started having contractions. It wasn't a big deal, I'd been having clusters of contractions almost daily for the last two weeks. They were a little intense, but no more than they were they day before. I just rode them out along with the crowd; standing, sitting, jumping around. By the fourth quarter I felt myself really starting to slip into a zoned out mode, just focusing on my body and what it was doing. That was my first inkling that this might actually be the real thing. I still stood up and sat down and moved with the crowd, but I had to ask Alan several times "Do we have the ball? What just happened? Who just scored?" I just couldn't get my brain to focus on anything. By the end of the game the sun had gone down and it had gotten pretty chilly. My legs were really cold, but with about 3 minutes left in the game, Alan and I were standing and rocking, and suddenly something got really warm. I looked at Alan and said "either my water just leaked a little, or I peed myself. I don't really know which one".

 I think I started slightly panicking at this point. The game ended and everyone was pushing towards the stairs and the exits. I think I even asked Alan "What should I do? Should I start yelling that my water broke?" I decided that if I could just make it to a bathroom and check things out I would be ok. Alan lead me to the stairs and we started fighting our way out. I might have been a little more forceful than I needed to be when people tried to cut in between us, but I had a death grip on Alan at that point and nothing was going to break it. We made it out of the stands and I waited in line at the bathroom. After determining that, in fact, I could determine nothing, I went back out to talk to Alan. Still not sure if my water was leaking, we decided that either way we had to get back to the van. We made it down the ramp and out of the stadium, stopping every now and then for contractions. After what felt like a much longer walk then when we came in, we made it to the van.

At that point we had pretty much decided that we needed to go to the hospital. Luckily I had the foresight to throw all of our hospital bags and gear into the van before we left. We started fighting traffic and headed towards the hospital, but I decided that I was hungry and I needed to get something to eat. We drove past the hospital to a Subway just down the street to eat something first. I was glad we were the only ones in the restaurant, but I still might have worried the sandwich guy when he was asking me questions about my food and I told him I couldn't answer because I was pretty sure I was in labor. We ate our food, called my mom and talked to the girls, called the hospital to let them know we were coming, and headed back across the street to get checked in.

Side note: I'm pretty sure they couldn't have made the hallway from the parking garage to the labor and delivery ward longer if they tried...

We got into triage and they did the little pregnancy-test-type-thing to see if my water had broken. I got an ever so faint second pink line that said yes, my water was indeed leaking. They asked me if I intended to get any sort of pain relief, and I told them no, and if I changed my mind, I would let them know. They asked me all sorts of questions about when contractions started and about how far apart they were. The best I could tell them was "2nd quarter, and about every play". I let Alan figure out real times from that. They took us down to the birthing suite, showed us around a little bit, got me a big birthing ball, and then left me alone to get to work.

After a little while my doctor came in, along with the attending doctor (my primary doctor is still a resident). They stayed with me through a few contractions, showed Alan some counter pressure techniques, then just let me do my thing. I stayed on the ball for a while leaning back against Alan. We watched an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the laptop. I got up to use the bathroom and noticed that there was a good amount of bright blood. We called the nurse who checked it out, then went to find the doctors. She checks me out, and there is a good deal more blood than they like to see. She tried to break my water a little more, but I don't think she was very successful. They ask if I'm ok staying on the bed with the monitors on for a little bit. I was ready to sit still for a while, so I was fine with it. I sat there practicing my Zen Master (sitting with the bottoms of my feet touching, leaning forward, and breathing deep) while Alan pressed on my back during contractions. Once it was clear that the baby was fine and that the bleeding wasn't because of the placenta detaching early or anything like that, they were content to let me keep working through the contractions on my own.

Things were getting really intense for me at this point. I was still very much in control, but I think labor brings out a very sarcastic streak in me. I was very impressed with the doctors and nurse, and even Alan, because no one ever said a word to me about an epidural or any sort of pain relief. I'm glad they didn't, because at that point I don't think they would have had to work very hard to convince me. I felt like I wanted to get up and move, but I kept fixating on the thought that if I moved around I would have stuff running down my legs. I finally put the back of the bed all the way up and turned around and leaned against the bed while on my knees. Alan kept pushing on the small of my back when I had a contraction, and that helped a lot. I think he started giggling at one point. I asked him what was so funny and he said something like "Nothing; your cute little butt is just hanging out, that's all."

The doctors check me out one more time, and I got back up on the back of the bed. The nurse was staying with me at this point, just watching the situation and trying to be helpful. A few more contractions and I told the nurse that I was probably going to need to push soon. She found the doctors and everyone started moving around and getting ready. They moved pretty fast and I was able to start pushing as soon as I needed to. I feel like I had been fairly calm and cool and collected up until that point, but I'm not sure what happened once I started pushing.

I'm not really sure what sounds I was making, but it was like I found my inner Xena, Warrior Princess. I have heard people call the feeling of when a baby crowns a "ring of fire". I really don't think that is an accurate description of what it feels like.  If I were to put a name to it, I would call it the "ring of OH MY HECK GET THIS KID OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW!!!" I think that describes it a little better. One of the doctors suggested that I stop pushing and wait for the next contraction and I *politely* told her that there was no way I was going to stop until this kid was out. The rest of my water bag broke during the first few pushes, and it was like splash zone at Sea World. I have to say that I stopped and laughed as everyone jumped back two feet. The doctors were giving me lots of verbal encouragement and instruction. Alan was right next to me trying to keep my crazy hair out of my face and telling me I could do it. I think I only pushed for about five minutes before he finally came out.

Sunday, November 10th, at 1:53am Clark came into the world on his due date. The first few comments from everyone was "he's huge!!" They held up this big baby and started rubbing him all over to get him to make a sound and cry. I think he was in a little bit of shock because it took maybe a minute of rubbing to get him to make a squawk. They placed him up on me, Alan cut the cord, and I just laid back and looked at my new son. Alan was right there with me touching him, kissing me, all the while saying "you did it. He's here".

I had a lot of extra bleeding happening that, while not enough to cause a big concern, needed to be addressed so it didn't turn into a big concern. There was a lot of extra stuff going on with me with shots of pitocin and other such medicine to help my uterus contract faster, and lots of other fiddling around down there that wasn't very nice, but luckily I was distracted by this boy that had suddenly entered my life. He settled right into me and started nursing. After a little while his insides started working, and after the second time he pooped on me, it was time to take him over to weigh, measure, and get a diaper on him.

He came weighing in at 9 lbs 8 oz, and 22.5 inches long. He is my biggest baby by far, so of course he was the one I chose to have naturally. I still have a lot of thoughts spinning around in my head about my experience of natural childbirth vs epidural, but this post is long enough as it is. Hopefully I can get it written out later. For now, here's Clark.