"What should we do? Should I text the doctor? Should I tell mom?" He was anxious to do something, but I said lets wait, and I sat on the pilates ball and watched a football match with him - trying to count the contractions better. I took a warm shower around eleven or twelve, and sat in bed and started texting my consultants: Meredith a former maternity nurse in America and Paula, a midwife, in Ireland.
When I finally established that my contractions were 8-10 minutes apart and lasting over 40 seconds, we decided to head to the hospital. I didn't want to be the Youtube woman who had her ten pound baby in the car.
We entered through the empty emergency room and I was wheeled up to the second floor and assigned to the "normal" delivery room. It was 2:30 a.m. and my doctor showed up shortly after. She had rushed to the hospital as well, afraid that I was going to have this baby fast, but after examining me, determined I was only 4 cm dilated. They already had me strapped to the bed with fetal monitors and IV to speed up my contractions.
I had come too early - and now I wasn't free to move and they were pumping me full of medicines I didn't need. I said so to my doctor, but I'm not a pushy person - and not good at advocating for myself. It's what all the books and nurses say to do - but there is a part of me that believes when it comes to birth - this is the woman's trick and need to feel as if she can control the circumstances, and thus control the fear of the uncontrollable. Maybe I could have more say in the procedure, but I'm not under the impression that I can control anything - I express, albeit weakly, my half desires, and let my doctor talk me into everything else.
"It's not a strong medicine, it's just a little to help you along." I'm not a medicine expert, but I vaguely knew it would make my contractions faster, closer, and less productive - and so for the next hour-and-a-half I was having contractions every 3-5 minutes. My doctor did unstrap me so I could stand up and walk around, as lying down this time was unbearable. Tolga stood near me and massaged my back during the contractions. We had brought the pilates ball deflated, but we never bothered with it.
I kept wondering when they were going to attempt an epidural, and finally asked - to which my doctor said,
"I don't think you'll need it."
Um. What does that mean?! You'll give it to me later? You'll do another medicine? You're going to knock me out instead? I didn't have the time or courage to ask her. I was focusing on working through he contractions and not thinking about what she said probably meant.
We had discussed no epidural before - and said we would decide the day of. I wasn't dreaming of a natural birth, no, I never didn't want an epidural - I was just afraid of the epidural. The needle in the spine is a horrible thought. The night shift on-call doctor weary eyed aiming for a spot in my spine was another terrifying thought. And the fact that I had thrown up and passed out several hours after giving birth with Teoman and Tomris - well, something was off about all of that as well.
The labor felt slow at the hospital. I was again regretting coming so early, especially now that no epidural was being given and I was stuck watching the second and minute hand go so slowly around and around. And I had to use the bathroom still - it was an urge that wouldn't leave and I didn't have as strong with the other kids.
It was almost 4:30 and I was 8 cm and they began the process of transferring me to the delivery room. My doctor told me several times I could yell and shout whenever I wanted - the other patients wouldn't mind. But I wasn't at a yelling screaming point - more of moaning groaning part. In the case of giving birth - I was okay with screaming when it was time to scream, but I felt panic and dread instead.
They called up the on-call pediatrician to take the baby - and it was our kids' doctor. Tolga joined us with scrubs on and it was 4:35 am and time to start pushing. My doctor told me to push when I felt the need - but I just felt confused by the pains and the expectation - everyone was waiting for me to push this baby out.
I wasn't sure I could do it.
In fact, when I did push, the pain only increased. I'm not even sure I was pushing. Everyone says it comes naturally, the urge - but my body tensed and I'm pretty sure I was fighting the process. I surely wasn't embracing the pain. My doctor had her hands in me trying to help her along. Tolga had his hand on my belly and could feel her still kicking. My doctor told me she's coming, she's coming. And it had been ten minutes. Not only was this labor feeling longer, but the pushing was surely longer too. She could see the head, she told me. She's coming coming coming. But it was all lies, she wasn't coming - it was 40 minutes of pain, rest, pain, rest. I was dreading each contraction more and more, because I knew it was going to get worse and worse and worse.
And I didn't want to do this anymore. I have heard this in the movies or on shows all the time - women crying, "Take it back!" or "I don't want it anymore" or "I can't do this!" and "No, no, no, nO!" And these lines are no joke. Again, I wish I could say I was mentally prepared to except and embrace this pain - but I wasn't ready, I never wanted to do this naturally, and now I had no choice and was begging everyone to back up a step or five. This was not going well (in spite of everyone's words to the contrary).
I didn't really recognize the urge to push until the baby was about to come out. My doctor at some point told me she was going to perform "a little cut" - which meant an episiotomy that no one does anymore - and yet my doctor was doing, again. I was beyond comprehending, and vaguely heard Tolga say, "It will make it easier for you."
Tolga this whole time was by my side. They were talking in-between my contractions about our kids, and during contractions I was pulling on the bars and Tolga had his hand on me, or massaged my arms, or patted me and said encouraging words. I know some people get mad at their husbands and everyone, but I kept looking to Tolga - I knew he was just as stressed as I was, and I knew that if he could take away my pain he would in a second - and he was everything I needed. He said later,
"I was your epidural."
When I gave the final two pushes after 50 minutes, I let go of the bar and grabbed Tolga's hand. It was a reflex and he caught my hand and matched my grip. I was picturing my bones breaking - my friend broke her tailbone delivering her baby, and I was pretty sure I was going to break apart. I felt the last bits of my spine roll outward and back in as the head pushed through. I don't know if that's possible, but I felt everything flexed as she came out. I think my doctor said to stop pushing - but it didn't matter, the baby was coming out and Tolga giggled and laughed.
I still felt panic and great pain. The surge of pain with the push had hardly subsided, and I only remembered to look at my daughter because of Tolga's laugh. I felt relief because even though I couldn't hear her cry - I heard Tolga's joy.
My doctor waited to deliver the placenta and I couldn't believe how much pressure I still felt - it even hurt to deliver the placenta. The pediatrician was cleaning they baby's nose and mouth, and they were taking measurements. I tried to keep my attention over to her. Tolga asked them to bring our girl back to me so that I could nurse her before they took her away. They had put Teoman on my belly when he was born, and Tomris they had only allowed a minute to suckle. But now with Tuana they were going to take her right away. But on Tolga's request, they brought her over.
Tuana's eyes were wide open. She had been in this world only seconds - pulled out, suctioned, wiped down, maybe a shot, wrapped, and now she was looking at me. We had pulled down my gown to nurse her some, but Tuana and I were just looking at each other.
They took her away and my doctor continued to work on me. I asked Tolga to stay. The placenta had broken and my doctor had to clean my uterus for pieces. I understood the risk and why, but I could get no relief it seemed from the birthing pains. Once she had massaged my uterus and was sure to have all the pieces out, she began stitching me up with "just a couple of stitches". I don't know what she was doing, but a half-hour later she was finished. Tolga went on ahead of me and when they wheeled me into the room, he was holding our daughter and talking to her. She was quiet and wide awake watching her Baba.
Tolga gave Tuana to me and I was finally able to look and hold her. But not for long. My stomach was cramping as if I were still in labor, and I was getting nauseous. I told Tolga to take Tuana because I was getting sick. (I almost threw up on Tomris' head when I had held her after the birth). I had drank a few sips of water and began dry heaving. Tolga called the nurse in, and by the time she came in with a shot to help with my nausea I had begun shaking. I felt so chilled and had goosebumps all over and my body began to shake uncontrollably. I was chattering and my hands were shaking and I couldn't calm down. The nurse said it was a fever - a side effect of the uterine medicine they had given me - I had received a stronger dose because of my fainting episodes in the first two births - so while the medicine was helping the bleeding and uterine contractions - apparently it was also giving me a fever. They gave me two more shots and after ten or fifteen minutes my shaking stopped.
My doctor checked in with me later and said I had a hard delivery because Tuana's head was in the wrong position and she came out with her arm up by her face. I had done a natural delivery - I'm not sure if they gave me any drugs or not - it doesn't matter - I know some people are quite proud to do a natural delivery. I know I felt proud that I had delivered Teoman (induced, epidural, and all), and I felt proud that I had labored at home with Tomris, but with Tuana - I felt no pride having done this without an epidural - more like that was a big mistake - I was no hero, I wasn't strong. How can you find pride in pain endured?
Then again, the epidural comes with its own set of fears and risks and pain even - so I don't regret going without the medicine, I'm just not sure I could do it again. I'm even terrified at the thought. But - I did feel stronger. I was walking around and feeling good - even though we hadn't slept through the night, even through the day we maybe only napped an hour or so - we were out of the hospital twelve hours after the birth - ready to bring our girl home.
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