Aden's Birth Story

Reminisce with me about the events unfolding 4 years ago...

Monday, July 16, 2001: 41 ½ weeks pregnant and I was still only 1 cm—no progress in 2 weeks and I had already tried every natural induction technique I knew of. My doctor said we could wait another week or schedule an induction for Thursday. I had mixed feelings—I really didn’t want to induce, but my Mom was having major surgery in only 9 days and I wanted her at the birth. Waiting didn't seem like a valid option any more so we made plans to be at the hospital at 7:30 am on Thursday.

I was glad to know that the baby would be here soon, but afraid the induction would go badly. I wanted my body to just work on its own and I felt like inducing meant I was failing. I didn’t like the idea of so many interventions being planned. I kept my fingers crossed that the baby would come on its own before Thursday.

Thursday, July 19, 2001: I woke up feeling disappointed. Labor hadn't started on its own. But it was okay because today I was finally going to meet this baby. We got ready to leave and Derek took one last pregnancy picture for the baby book. He videotaped me a little as I got my things together, but I made him stop since I was on the verge of crying. The idea of starting the induction was very emotional and scary to me.

We arrived at the hospital a little after 7:30 am. The nurse seemed nice as she explained what we would be doing and began monitoring me. Dr. Haun came by at 8:00 and inserted the first prostaglandin tablet, then I had to be monitored for a while longer to make sure there was no adverse reaction. No one had informed me of all the potential risks of that evil little tablet of Cytotec so it seemed a bit silly and pointless to sit in bed getting monitored rather than being up and around trying to get labor started. But after that I was free to do whatever I wanted, with a brief monitoring session every hour. I was impatient and nervous, but the morning flew by.

I began to have regular contractions but they were mild like all of the "false" ones I’d had before. At noon I was still 1 cm but my cervix had softened a lot, so the nurse inserted another tablet. I did some walking but it felt silly. The contractions came every few minutes but they still weren’t strong. I wondered if this was really going to work, but by 4:15 pm the nurse said I was having too many contractions to insert another tablet. I was at 3 cm and 50% effaced, so at least progress had been made!

I was nervous about the next step, breaking my water. It seemed so final. What if my body wasn’t ready? I knew the possibilities but I didn’t really think about them. My doctor came at 5:20 and I let him break my water, which immediately intensified the contractions. For the first time the contractions began to feel uncomfortable. I was supposed to be on the monitors for only 30 minutes but instead I got stuck in bed for an hour, unable to get up or get comfortable, and I felt like the nurses had forgotten about me. I just wanted to get into the hot tub! I couldn't relax.

At 7:10 I was disappointed to still be at 3 cm, but 75-80% effaced. The baby was still at -1 station and the contractions were more uncomfortable. I walked down the hall to the hot tub, a short but painful journey. I got in the hot tub and tried to focus on Derek or the sound of the water or anything to help me relax. It didn’t work. I was cold. I couldn’t get comfortable. My mom and Derek started to write down the time of each contraction. It’s a long and hellish list: 7:38… 7:40… 7:43… 7:46… 7:48… 7:50. My nurse, Mary, said to imagine that I was blowing the pain out with each breath. It was the only helpful thing she did for me the entire time, but it worked wonderfully for a while.

An hour later, I went back to my room to pee. The worst contractions came in the bathroom. Derek walked me there, and right as I got to the toilet a contraction hit. I clung to him, whimpering and crying. He held me until it ended and I could pee. Another one. Did I really have to get up and walk back to the room? When I stood up it led to another one. I swore I was never going through this again! Finally, I made it back to the rocking chair in my room. I rocked until a contraction came, and then blew, blew, blew it out.

9:00 and I was at 5 cm, the baby was much lower, and my cervix had come around. I started to have bloody show. "Better progress than expected," Mary said. "Was that all?" I thought. Laying down to get checked was the most torturous position. Afterwards I sat up on the end of my bed. I still couldn’t get comfortable. Hot then cold. To the rocker. Back to the bed. The world narrowed. There were so many contractions and they were so close together: 9:04… 9:05… 9:07… 9:08… 9:10… 9:12… Finally my mom gave up writing them all down. She simply wrote, “Continued every minute to two minutes” on that piece of paper. The contractions got more intense. I focused on a box on the floor as I tried to blow the pain out. It wasn't working so well anymore.

By 10:00 I was a little more dilated and the baby was lower. I started to think that maybe I wouldn't be able to do this, maybe I would need something to make it through the pain. I sat in the rocking chair, dying to ask but afraid to, not wanting to admit I couldn’t do it. My mom told me I could ask for drugs if I needed them, that there was nothing to be ashamed of. I finally asked the nurse, in a tentative voice, if there was just a little something she could give me. She left to call the doctor and returned saying he had okayed Stadol but he wanted to start Pitocin too. I felt vaguely ambushed since I was sure I hadn’t wanted Pitocin. But I couldn’t say no. I thought if I did that then I wouldn’t get the Stadol either, and since I had finally caved and asked for it I wasn't turning back. All of my hopes were pinned on that Stadol. The nurse started the IV at 10:20.

The Stadol helped me sleep between the contractions that came every one or two minutes. My mom wrote at 10:35 that I “said they’re not quite as intense.” I don’t remember thinking that. The Stadol put me in a fog but it didn’t seem to relieve the pain at all. I still had it, I just couldn't communicate about it. The waves of pain ebbed and flowed but they were never really gone. I sat on the end of the bed leaning forward, laying my head on a little table and drifting off between contractions. Then another one would be on top of me and I would moan in protest. The contractions were so strong. I thought, "I can’t do this. I want to quit. Can’t I just take a break? Maybe we could stop for a while and I could rest and try again tomorrow?" Mary barked out that it was not an option. She, Derek, Mom, and my MIL kept telling me how great I was doing, how well I was staying focused and breathing through the contractions. I didn’t buy it. I thought I was failing miserably. Mary said I sounded like I was in transition.

Every contraction was stronger than the previous one, and as each one hit I thought, "This is it. It can’t get any stronger." But it did. The pain in the front of my pelvis was hot and radiating and overwhelming. I remember that Mary said it was good pain, it was where the pain should be, it meant that the baby was facing the right way. I thought that was comforting in a twisted painful kind of way.

At 11:35 she checked me and I was at 8 cm. Very soon after that the contractions changed and I started to feel like pushing. I said something about it and Mary was surprised but she checked me again. I was at 10 cm. It was 11:50.

When I felt the next contraction I was scared and I said, “What do I do?” Mary said, “Push!” I started to push and it was really strange and scary. When I pushed I pulled myself up to a sitting position. I held my breath and put all of my energy into pushing. Derek told me later that I held my breath so long he was afraid I would pass out. The sensations were overwhelming. I pushed once or twice and then stopped for a moment. I pushed again. I felt like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. It burned. There was a flurry of activity in the room. I wondered, "Where is my nurse? Where is my doctor?" It was so close to midnight that I remember saying that we still didn’t know what day the baby’s birthday would be.

In a minute my MIL said, "The baby’s crowning, reach down, you can feel the head, there is lots of dark hair." And when I reached down to feel the head it was weird, wondering whether this was really happening, was that my body I felt or the baby? The doctor finally came in. I found out later that there was some miscommunication and he was waiting in the hallway thinking he wasn’t needed yet.

It was all happening so fast, the mirror never got set up but I caught a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror by the sink. Me having a baby. It looked strange and unreal. Dr. Haun was telling me to push, push, push and then suddenly it was don’t push, don’t push! I wondered if something was wrong. I looked down and there's my baby’s head, there’s a purple face. The nurse didn’t even have a bulb syringe ready yet. Dr. Haun unwrapped a loop of cord from the baby’s neck and a hand popped out up by the face and then the whole body was coming out. Another loop of cord got removed from the neck and shoulder and another loop was in a figure eight around the body and then I saw the whole baby and I said, “It’s a boy!” It was 12:11 am.

Dr. Haun held him up and I thought he was going to lay him on my stomach but quickly he cut the cord and they whisked him over to the warmer. I turned my head to watch my son as other things kept going on down there. I was in absolute awe. I couldn’t believe it was a boy! Derek was crying. I wondered, "Why isn't the baby crying?" I was a little confused and nervous but after an eternally long minute he started to cry. I still didn’t get to hold him. I don’t remember delivering the placenta or saying I didn’t want to see it. I was too busy saying “That’s our baby!” to which Derek replied “He’s so beautiful.”

Then Dr. Haun started doing something to my bottom that really hurt. He was stitching up the tears. There were a lot of them because the baby came so fast with that hand up by his face. The nurse asked for his name and immediately I knew he was Aden Derek. Derek looked surprised when I told her this but he was beaming with pride.

Meanwhile I was alternating between awe of my baby and annoyance at the stitching. I just wanted to hold my baby! We were told that he was 7 pounds, 9 ounces, 19 1/2 inches long, with a 14 inch head circumference. He was perfect. It took a while to get over the shock that the baby was a boy. I had a son! I said, “The next one better be a girl” and everyone laughed because they couldn’t believe I was already talking about going through this again. Then the doctor was mostly done and they finally gave Aden to me.

I touched all of that dark hair and that tiny face with such big blue eyes that were staring up at me and those tiny hands and feet. It was unbelievable. He was so beautiful and alert. My MIL helped me start nursing him, which felt awkward but he latched on and ate right away. Derek was at my shoulder, just looking at him, and we were a family for the first time.

Later, we got settled into our tiny little postpartum room but I couldn’t sleep. I had to keep waking up to look at Aden and touch him to make sure he was okay. Finally I put him in bed next to me and I rested, but between 6:00 and 6:30 I gave up on sleeping. I just laid there looking at him, pondering how tiny and cute and amazing and perfect he was. I thought, "He’s already 6 hours old, how can 6 hours have passed so quickly?" I was a mom, his mom, mom to Aden, this tiny perfect little boy. The sun was rising on this brand new day and suddenly life felt like such a wonderful miracle. For the first time since his birth, I cried.