David's Birth Story

At 41 weeks and 4 days, David had shown no interest in making his appearance. I was only dilated 1cm. I knew that oftentimes mothers whose babies have anencephaly don’t go into spontaneous labor and that induction was a likely possibility this time around. The Gent and I went to the hospital Monday evening about 8:30pm and I started with oral doses of Cytotec. My doctor felt that this was our best option for staying with as natural of a birth experience as possible. (I had spontaneous, natural deliveries with all three girls, and that was what I was hoping for again. I like to stay mobile and in control and I have thankfully always found labor pains to be manageable as long as you are prepared and determined. Note that I did not have super-long labors that tested my fortitude—Sophie’s was the longest and the intense part was only about six hours with her.) The Gent and I had weighed the pros and cons of different labor and delivery options and I had decided I wanted to go natural again. I knew that my body would just take over and do what needed to be done and felt it would be less emotional that way; if I’d opted for an epidural I think that would have just opened up my mind to a lot of fear and anxiety about what was to come when David was born. I don’t know if that makes sense or not, but that was my thought process.

Back to the hospital. The Gent and I were able to sleep a few hours Monday night. I didn’t really think the Cytotec was doing anything, but when I got up and started moving around about 6am contractions did start to pick up. We had chosen not to do any monitoring, because it wasn’t going to change our labor plan. My doctor didn’t think I was in active labor yet, but I had progressed to 3cm overnight. I thought I was in active labor but didn’t argue because I wanted to eat breakfast and also because I thought maybe I was being too optimistic. (I was trying to avoid Pitocin and being hooked up to an iv.) My doctor said I could have a piece of toast and continue drinking water. At 9am my nurse checked on me and said I had made a little more progress and she thought the Cytotec was all the push my body needed to get labor going. I took my fourth dose of Cytotec at 9am, confident that labor was now underway but knowing we could reevaluate at 1pm and add the Pitocin if needed.

Then I moved on to my favorite labor-coping strategy of DENY DENY DENY. (Ignore contractions, do not time them, talk to my mom, the Gent, the Gent’s mom, and various relatives and friends who dropped by to support us.) I did try to move positions every 5 contractions or so. I did a lot of standing and swaying, rolling on the birth ball, and some leaning over the bed and having the Gent put pressure on my lower back (a little bit of back labor). David’s labor felt most similar to Annie’s. Eventually about noon the Gent and I took the walk I had been putting off and strolled around the hallways. And pronto, intense contractions requiring my concentration and some deep breathing.

We went back to our room, I put on a hospital gown, and resumed my labor position of leaning my head against the Gent’s shoulder, holding and squeezing one of his hands, and moved from deep breathing to humming. When the contractions got very intense my mom joined in, too. I really couldn’t do labor without my mama there.

About 12:30-1pm I called the nurse and said we’re getting close. My doctor came back to check me and agreed I was now in active labor and at 8cm. She left, the nurse left. I asked the Gent to call the nurse back and told her my water was about to break and I would like her to stay in the room from now on. :) She had been very good about just letting me do my thing but by then I was worried that my water would break and I would immediately want to push and would not have any medical people around!

Sure enough, my water broke in another contraction or two. Unlike with Nora’s birth, though, I had no immediate urge to push. Instead, like with Annie’s birth, the contractions spaced out to about five minutes apart and were much less intense. I sat up in the bed and breathed through them, letting my body finish opening up and getting ready for birth. Our sweet birth photographer arrived and began snapping away. After some time (maybe 20 minutes? I really don’t know), I started to feel some pressure and the nurse said yes, it was time to start pushing. My doctor came back and we started with my least favorite part of labor. And Laura Story’s Blessings started playing on the David playlist I had made. We had been listening to music reminding me of God's love and faithfulness and steadfastness all morning.

I hate pushing. I always have and I’m pretty sure I always will. I have now birthed four children so I think that is enough to be statistically significant. Pushing with David felt different right away. The girls were all born in 2-3 pushes. He was not. I pushed a few times from a reclined position. I didn’t feel he was making much progress so we switched to squatting. I could feel him moving even in the birth canal. All the kicks and wriggles during my pregnancy were so treasured, and these last movements were, too. Squatting helped some, but I got tired and reclined back again. I curled up around him to push and his little head was born. He came face first, which is not unusual for babies with his condition. I thought okay, that’s why this was harder to do this time, now he’ll be born and I can hold him.

Little did I know, the scary part was to come. I pushed and nothing happened. We tried a few different things, but I could not move him at all. I felt so helpless. His shoulder was stuck (shoulder dystocia) and I couldn’t do anything. My doctor called for backup, the anesthesiologist came and asked me a few quick questions, and the nurse threw a blanket over me and started wheeling me to the OR. They got me back there and got ready to give me nitrous oxide so they could deliver David. I remember telling the nurse that I just needed him to be here. She thought I meant the Gent and she assured me he was coming. I meant David.

Mom and the Gent arrived and the anesthesiologist put a mask over my face. David’s birth is a little fuzzy to me because of that. I remember two doctors jumped and put pressure on my stomach, while my doctor turned David’s shoulder and delivered him. The Gent tells me they put David on my chest right away, as I had asked them to do. They gave me a few breaths of oxygen to clear my head. Someone wrapped David in a blanket and put a little hat on him, and my first clear moment is cradling him in my arms, and looking at his precious little face, bruised from the birth. I could see that he wasn’t breathing, and all the medical people had distanced themselves to finish up their tasks. I was so glad he was out, but felt cheated that he had lived up until the moment of birth. David never took a breath. He passed from the safety of my womb straight into the arms of Jesus.

P.S. More to come as I write to process.

P.P.S. Despite the trauma of David’s birth, my body is healing very quickly. No complications, no stitches. Small mercies.