Aiden's Birth Story

I haven't told a lot of people Aiden's whole birth story, because his birth was a really difficult experience for me in a number of ways. One thing to know about me; sometimes I use humor to cope with the hard stuff; and having my baby boy was no exception. In telling his story, I've used self-depricating humor often in person and attempted to laugh it off; but I would actually just prefer to tell it how it is.

 Aiden's birth did not go according to plan- and another thing to know about me is that I absolutely am a planner. Eric perhaps more so than me... but I feel safer having a plan! I read probably 100 books about childbirth, pregnancy, and the first 6 months of a baby's life while I was pregnant. No exaggeration. I couldn't get my hands on enough knowledge about everything I was going through, and would go through. I honestly tried to do the best I could to choose the best for my health, and my baby's health. Eric and I took classes, sought opinions, and made choices. Not everyone agreed with our choices, and that's okay. I'm not writing this out to say "YOU ARE RIGHT!" to all our critics. Frankly, I am of the mindset that people get entirely too involved in other people's choices when it comes to making babies, carrying babies as a pregnant person, and having babies. I am writing this out to tell our story.

 My pregnancy and prenatal care was a little crazy. After some upsetting events at my OB's office at 6 months pregnant, I started to look elsewhere for care. I talked to a lot of people, and re-evaluated what I needed. I felt after talking to a lot of moms that a midwife might be a better choice; part of the reason I was disgruntled with my OB is I felt like she was really sterile with my emotional well-being and wishes; and a lot of women said a midwife was more likely to be sympathetic and caring. I chose a group downtown in Seattle that was very well-reputed; arguably the best in the Seattle area. My midwives had medical background, and many, many years of experience in their field. Working with my midwife, I chose to give birth in a beautiful birth center downtown. I also chose to take classes and practice The Bradley Method, which is a birthing philosophy involving no drugs of any kind. We did our research, we decided that if we could, we wouldn't use pitocin or pain-killers unless an intervention was deemed necessary, and if this was the case, it would involve a hospital transfer. In our Bradley classes, Eric and I learned that to experience childbirth together could be a very intimate experience. We learned that some people believe doctors intervene too much in a women's natural schedule when it comes to childbirth. We learned that some medicine is overused and can overcomplicate a relatively simple, natural occurance. We also learned breathing, positions, what to expect, and how to think in the heat of the moment. We learned to not give up. That aside, The best thing for Eric and I, is that we learned how to work as a team.

 My original due date of May 13th came and went. My mom came out on the 15th, and we waited. At our Bradley classes, we learned that with first children, the average woman gives birth at 41 weeks and 1 day. I wasn't worried. According to state law though, you cannot have your baby in a birth center if you're over 2 weeks past your original due date, because your risk goes up of possible complications. When I passed my 41 week mark, I began to worry. I spent a lot of nights feeling really alone, and being nervous that my birth plan would have to change dramatically. I felt close to my team of midwives, and was scared that I would not get what I really wanted if I wasn't able to be in their care. I had gotten a little nervous in my Bradley classes; our teacher had explained to us that rarely a medical team in the hospital will support a fully natural birth. Late at night the last week I was pregnant, I worried about how that would affect me and my baby. We tried induction method after induction method; membranes stripped three times (horrible) walking, jogging, stairs, eating spicy food, eating pineapple, being *ahem* intimate (which is OH-SO-FUN when you're 41.5 weeks pregnant and have gained 65 lbs). Finally, on the last day before I reached the dreaded 42 week mark, we tried the last straw- a drink made of castor oil, verbena extract, almond butter, and apricot juice (also horrible) and I called my doula, and dear friend, Chari. Chari came up, and talked me through a few things. She used a combination of essential oils known to induce pregnancy, and then walked around our block with me a few times... and then FINALLY, FOR THE FIRST TIME, I felt a real and true contraction. 15 minutes later, I was feeling regular contractions every 5 minutes. Then every three minutes. Then we timed them... and I had them for an hour! 12 hours before my time ran out for a birth center baby- WE WERE HAVING A BABY!!!!

 Eric and I had decided we wanted to stick with the Bradley method recommendations, and only have us and a doula in the room with us. We grabbed our bag, and told my mom we would text her when we were pushing- we were having a baby! We got into the car and began our hour long drive down to the city, and my doula began coaching me on abdominal breathing. My contractions became regular, and developed a pattern. I would have two regular contractions, and then triple peak with three in a row. I didn't think much of this and assumed it would probably change. They were feeling like serious period cramps, and I breathed through them. By the time we got to the birth center an hour later, they were feeling pretty intense to me. I got checked by my midwife upon arrival at 11:30am, and I was measuring at 4cm, 95% effaced, at a -1 station. I was monitored for an hour, and they decided that I was in active labor and that I was indeed going to have the baby soon. I had made it to the birth center! I was so happy that I didn't have to transfer my care. I had made my deadline. I felt totally home free.

 ...And then labor just seemed to last. And last. And last. My water finally broke when I was dilated to a 6, but it was discovered at this time that I had a second sac of water, and we needed to manually break it. This was something that hadn't been seen on my ultrasounds for some reason, but my team said at one time very early on, I may have had two embryos, and for whatever reason, one never developed. This REALLY bothered me. I was also in a great deal of pain. I was starting to doubt I was going to make it through everything. I wanted my mom. I was embarrassed to admit that I felt like I couldn't do this without her, after all my religious devotion to the Bradley method, and insisting that just Eric and I do this. Ironically, or maybe by a spiritual hand, at 10 pm that night, my mom texted Eric to tell him she felt like she needed to be at the birth center, and she was coming down. Eric was apprehensive that this was the best move, as was our doula. It wasn't in our "plan". But I wanted my mom there, and when she said she was coming, a huge relief flooded over me. I really am grateful she came. Things were starting to get pretty intense for me about this time, and honestly, there are huge periods of time that I just don't remember much. I just remember the pain being very intense, and feeling like morning would never come, and that the night would last forever. (I had my midwife print out a copy of her notes at my first post-natal appointment so that I could piece together all of my fragments). The night went on, and I was checked every 1/2 hour for my heart rate, my baby's heart rate, and blood pressure, and every few hours, my midwife checked me to see how things were progressing with my dilation. I had progressed normally until about 8:20 pm, when I was 8.5 cm dilated, and then, for whatever reason, my body refused to progress. Reading back through my midwife's notes still gives me chills about this. For the next 13 hours, we tried everything to help my body to progress; changing positions, moving around, walking, sitting on a birthing stool, attempting to relax in a bathtub; everything. Through all of this, Eric was so good. My mother was so good. I had been so nervous about how Eric would react in labor and how he would handle himself, and to do this day, I can't give him enough credit. My mom also let me and Eric do what we needed to do, and allowed us to make the decisions we needed to make.

 Finally, at 9:30 am, after 24 hours in labor, half of which my midwife estimated had been in "transition", Eric, my mom, my doula, and my two midwives and I had a talk. I was exhausted and border-line hysterical; my contractions had kept their steady pattern of normal contraction, triple-peaking contraction, and normal contraction... and I was beginning to have inner panic attacks when I knew the triple-peaking contractions were coming. I didn't feel like I could go on like this much longer. Everyone came to the conclusion that it was time to transfer my care to a hospital where I could receive pain-management and get an epidural. Everyone was very supportive of this decision of which I am very grateful. In a quiet moment while the team of midwives were coordinating our transfer, Eric was able to give me a priesthood blessing that I would be alright, and that our baby would be born healthy and safe. This gave me a great deal of comfort between the intense contractions as we prepared for the transfer over to the hospital.

 At 10 am, I was driven over to Swedish First Hill Hospital in Seattle. Upon arrival, we entered through the ER, and I was separated from Eric and my mom, and I was alone with my doula, Chari. She was with me to get the epidural, and she held me and told me she was proud of me for getting this far. She had had five children of her own, none of which had labors over 10 hours, and she kept saying she was sorry that my story had to be difficult, but to be proud that I was able to push through, and that this was hard!

 In the hospital, I had wonderful care. My doctor actually said, "I know we weren't your first choice, and I am sorry you had to come here, but we are so glad to have you! We will try everything we can to make you feel like you wanted to be here!" My epidural worked wonderfully and quickly, and I was able to feel the relief I needed to relax. I actually fell asleep for a little bit, and was able to just rest from my traumatic night. At 2pm, my doctor woke me up and told me that I was at a 10, and that it was go time! He did let me know that because I had been in labor so long, I was going to have three hours to push before he told me I needed to have a C-section. Somewhere, in the depths of my worn-out soul, I mustered the last bit of strength I had. I may have had to go to a hospital and get an epidural, but I absolutely was not going to get a c-section if I could avoid that!

 At 2:35pm, I began pushing, and at almost exactly 3pm, my beautiful baby boy, Aiden James Ball was born. I'd heard a million times that a person doesn't feel or understand love until the minute you hear your baby cry and they touch you for the first time, and with all my reading and preparation, I was in no way ready to understand the flood that came over me. I just couldn't believe that he was my person. All of the months of self-doubt, nausea, throwing up, weight gain, and the last 30 hours of labor all disappeared behind me in a fog. I was a mother to this little boy. And that meant more than anything in the world to me.

 The weeks following Aiden's birth were interesting for me. I felt like I was overwhelmed by a lot of postpartum joy and emotions, but I also had a bit of a hard time reconciling that I had failed my birth plan. I felt like in making my plan, really, I had failed myself. In the years now since Aiden's birth, I've learned to put aside the feelings of failure to have a, "natural birth successfully", and rejoice that I was able to deliver a healthy baby successfully, regardless of how it came about, or where. Really, in the end, who cares about the birth plan? You want a healthy mother and child. Also, I've learned that with my next child, the only plan I will have is getting to the hospital, and saying, "When is a good time to get that epidural?" It turns out I don't have as high of a pain tolerance as I thought...

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