It was Wednesday and my baby was already 10 days “late”.  On that day, my husband and I went to my OB/GYN’s office where my doctor determined there was insufficient amniotic fluid, therefore I needed to be induced.  I begged the doctor to wait until Friday; I knew in my heart of hearts, my baby was not going to come out until then. So, we went home to eat lunch and get ready. My husband loaded my hospital bag. It was stocked with books like Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, The Thinking Woman’s Guide to a Better Birth, and The Mongan Method Hypnobirthing.  While I simply sat on the edge of the bed, crying and thinking these are the last moments to have my husband all to myself and this was just not right. I felt forced to perform the miracle of birth; neither myself nor my baby were ready.

At the hospital, it was determined that it was too late in the afternoon to induce my labor. We were told to take a walk around the hospital’s parking lot to get the labor going. My husband, a comedian at heart, pretended to be a drill sergeant saying “hut, hut, 1, 2, 3”. It was good comic relief considering the stress of the day and fortunately, I was still in a good enough mood to enjoy the comic routine.

I was told the next day, Thursday, that I would be induced after breakfast, but in fact, there were no rooms at the proverbial inn. The labor and delivery rooms were full.  As the hands on the clock moved toward the afternoon hours,   I was given two drugs – Cervidil and Misoprostol. I was given these drugs instead of Pitocin because doctors can only administer Pitocin in the Labor and Delivery Rooms (all of which were full at the time). I was in my hospital room as I watched the monitors as my cervix ripened when all of the sudden a slew of nurses and doctors ran in. They wobbled my body back and forth.  I was frighten because they escorted my sisters out of the room and quickly put an oxygen mask on me after stripping me off my clothes. My baby’s heart rate dropped significantly and it was time to “move things along.”

It was approaching dinner time and my beloved husband and I found ourselves in the Labor and Delivery room. Our spirits were nearing bottom; the room was gray and we could hear another woman laboring in the adjacent room.  I remember my husband telling me not to go into the bathroom because there was blood on the floor. It was then when I wanted to escape, go into the forest and have this baby like a deer has her fawn. It was too late for that. It was only then, when we decided to call our doula. Perhaps others would have called their doula much earlier in the process, but I wanted to savor every precious moment that I could be alone with my husband.  The doula arrived in lightening time. She was very upbeat and said “we should have a party” but my spirit was melancholy. It was getting late into the evening when my doctor came into the room and said a decision needs to be made; either we go full force and break my water; continue as is with the Pitocin or  stop everything and start again fresh in the morning. My head swam with what decision to make but somehow I thought of the most brilliant question… “If I was your daughter, what would you tell me to do, Doctor?” She said, “I would get some rest and start in the morning.” There was the plan except now there were no rooms upstairs and we would have to stay in the “dungeon” as my husband called our labor and delivery suite.  Fortunately, we were moved to a brighter room with a window and miraculously, I got to eat a cheeseburger.  We felt better about things.

Finally, it was Friday and I knew today was going to be the day!  I knew sometime that day I was going to have my baby, but when? Since we had so many delays, I told my husband to go home and take a shower.  I really did not think the baby was going to come any time soon, so he should have plenty of time to get something to eat and freshen up. While he was gone, I felt wonderful. I took a long shower, put on my makeup and tidied up the labor and delivery room while waiting to be induced. Finally, the nurse came into my room to hook me back up to the monitors and then administer Pitocin. I asked the nurse, how much Pitocin she had given me because the contractions were really kicking in! To my surprise, I was in labor on my own! Within a few minutes, the doctor decided to break my water. I called my husband before the big gush and told him that he needed to get back to the hospital. Within fifteen minutes, my husband walked into room to see me shaking and moving from hot flashes to the chills. I can remember a swirl of words including meconium and concerns about drops in the fetal heart rate.  My doctor tried to replace the amniotic fluid to give the baby a better cushion but the pain of the procedure brought tears to my eyes. I could not take it anymore.  I was in pain; my heart was broken because my birth plan seemed to be little more than a coaster for my doctor’s coffee and she only treated the center trunk of my body, there was no regard to my heart, my spirit or my intellect. It was my hope that I was going to have this baby naturally but each maligned domino toppled onto the next.  I knew my doctor was not on my side and even considered going to another practice at 36 weeks into the pregnancy. She was an unwelcome visitor into the room at this point. I asked my husband if he would tell her not to come back. I was adamant! I did not want her as my doctor anymore and wanted a midwife in her practice to be assigned.  A different fate held its course when fetal heart rate dropped again. I was whisked into the operating room for a cesarean section by my banished doctor. It was on Friday, May 29^th at 9:39 a.m., our daughter arrived into the world in all of her glory.

I think back to those days and wonder about the “would have, should have, could haves” but I have learned  two things: always go with your gut and more importantly, every birth, whether it is unmedicated, vaginal or via c-section is natural.  There is nothing more natural than bringing a baby into the world; there is no failure in the miracle of giving birth.

Thank you, Sarah, for this wonderful tale of your daughter’s birth.  And you are so right – nothing is more sacred and natural than the birth of a child no matter what that journey and experience looks like!