Benjamin's Birth Story: Part One

Reader beware: this is a birth story; it won't be gory, but it is what it is.

I've been wanting to write Benjamin's birth story for months, but never seem to get it high enough on my to-do list to actually sit down and do it. I've probably forgotten a lot (time and childbirth and the hormone oxytocin do that). So, since the 4th of July is the first anniversary of this story, it seems time to write it. The 5th, after all, is Benjamin's day.

As Brian so perfectly put it, Benjamin declared his independence on July 4th of 2006. I had slept late that day, as I had slept late over the previous couple of weeks, knowing that once the baby was born sleep would become a rare pleasure (and now, a year later, I can sadly say that I have not slept in — nor gotten much more than 6 hours of sleep — in a year, so, all you mothers-to-be, sleep sleep sleep!!).

It was about 12:15 and I was getting Brian a cup of coffee when I suddenly felt a very weird sensation, as if my belly were a jiggling bowl of jello and someone (guess who!) was kicking from within. Before I could make it to the downstairs bathroom, splash! water was everywhere. Standing in a puddle at the bathroom door I was in shock. Disbelief. I had read that, contrary to Hollywood depictions of childbirth, only 15% of women go into labor with their water breaking first. I've even had a few friends who had to have their water broken at the hospital.

Fear set in. After all that preparation, after all those months of waiting for this very instant, I was petrified and couldn't quite believe that within 14 hours I would have to have a baby (once your water breaks, doctors rarely give you more than 12 hours to give birth because of risk of infection). In tears, I called for Brian. He rushed downstairs. I explained what was going on. He was excited. And calm (or at least seemed to be).

Next step was to call the doctor. On the 4th of July. His answering service took the message, he called me back 15 minutes later and asked: "Are you sure your water broke?" I replied that I was indeed sure because with every small contraction more water flowed. (This was actually something I was a little worried about, because I didn't want Benjamin to lose all his warm bath before my body released him. I managed to do some quick research and find out that my body would keep replenishing the amniotic sack with water and that all I needed to do was keep hydrated).

Dr. W accepted that Benjamin was on the way and told me he would call back in … well, it being a year later, I can't remember how long. 2 hours? 3?

Just around this time a kind neighbor came by to give us some three-bean salad she had made. She was going to a July 4th party and had made too much. Brian thanked her and told her what was going on, and she quickly left, wishing us luck. (The salad, by the way, was delicious, but we didn't eat it until we got home from the hospital.)

I hadn't prepared for my water breaking at home, but fortunately I had my big exercise ball (recommended for labor) and I sat on it in the library while munching on light snacks and watching Pride and Prejudice with the sound off (yes, I've seen it so many times that I can watch it without sound and still laugh at what the characters are saying). I ate toast with honey and chicken noodle soup while jotting down the times and lengths of contractions.

Labor, however, was slow in progressing. Very slow. I'd have a few good, evenly paced contractions, and then they would get erratic. They were, for the most part, mild. Just small cramps that tightened and relaxed fairly quickly.

Walking is supposed to help labor along, so I started walking from one side of the house to the other (it was too hot and muggy to walk outside). I walked and walked and walked. To little avail. We played episodes of Buffy as I paced. And I paced for hours.

During this time I also continued packing my hospital suitcase. It had been sitting half-filled in the nursery for about a month. I hadn't completely packed it because I was sure that if I did finish, I would go into labor hours later and I wasn't ready to go into labor (still too many things to take care of in the house).

As the afternoon progressed, my contractions remained fleeting instead of becoming stronger and closer together. The doctor would check in with us, but I had little to report, though I think I tried to sound optimistic each time. The third (?) time we talked, he told me he thought I would have to be "augmented" to get my labor to move forward. I asked for more time. I didn't want drugs. I wanted to do this as naturally as possible.

But all that walking didn't help. Around 6pm the doctor called and told me it was time to go to the hospital. He would call and tell the nurses we were on our way. (I think Brian had also called them to tell them we would be there that night.) He would tell them to prepare for an aumentation. This, of course, was not what I had planned, but then I knew that labor often doesn't go as planned. At least I had gotten to stay at home for a good part of it.

I finished packing. I said good-bye to the cats. We may have checked in with the neighbors to make sure someone would feed the felines. I remember that moments before leaving the house I had a major contraction: I had to grab the kitchen door frame to steady myself as the contraction rippled (or was it ripped?) through me.

The hospital is just over a mile from our house. We went to the emergency room entrance; Brian got the suitcase out of the car, helped me out of the front seat, and handed our keys to the attendant. (I'm sure some discussion of where the car would be parked took place.) We presented ourselves at the desk and they called upstairs and told us to take the elevator to the fourth floor, the maternity ward. A nurse was waiting for us when we got to the maternity desk and she lead us to our delivery room...