Maxton's Birth Story (Part 3: Show Time)

(My side of the story on Maxton's entrance into this world. Part 1: Prep time, here. Part 2: Go time, here.)

It's 7:25am  and we enter triage and sit down before being called to the admittance desk. (My contractions, along with their severity, drastically mellowed out on the ride over. My nerves were kicking into gear. I wanted the contractions to return so they wouldn't send me home, but at the same time I knew the challenge I had before me and the reality of the situation was making me jittery. After about 10 minutes the admittance lady led me to a closet of a room and had me sit down while I gave her my name, insurance info, etc.....and BOOM! A contraction hit and it was the first time that day that I had to deal with one in front of a complete stranger. I easily embarrass and I tried my darnedest to act as non-contorty as I could. To no avail, sadly. The lady kept asking me questions expecting me to answer and I wanted to scream, DUDE. Contraction here. I knew she couldn't care less because she's doing this all day with women contracting and contorting and wincing and weeping.

The woman informs me that they are pretty busy as she leads me into an examining room. She asked me to undress and that I'll be checked in just a bit. My contractions have now returned in full force. I quite clumsily get into my gown and sit on the hard metal chair sitting in the center of the room. The nurse hooks me  up to the monitors, takes my blood pressure, and and asked how far apart my contractions were (every 3-4 minutes). She tells me she has some other moms to check on and that she will be back to see how many centimeters I am after they've monitored my contractions for 20 minutes.

The nurse did not return in 20 minutes. Nor did she return in 30, or 40, or 50. She returned in 55 minutes and only after my husband called for her. I had waited on that chair thinking that at any minute she would return and we could get me to a labor room. The pain was getting really intense and I was seriously doubting myself. It was after throwing up into a garbage can that I turned to Josh and said, "I'm just going to do drugs, you know. I don't know if I can do this!"  Josh immediately  told me that 1) YES, I could do it,  and 2) he wasn't going to let me give up that easy, and that that's what he was here for; he was to support me when those inevitable doubts crept to the surface.

So when Josh yelled for someone to please come check me, the nurse came rushing in. Josh mentioned I threw up and that got the nurse's attention. She immediately checked me. I was at 9 cm at 8:45am. I labored to 9 cm, in a metal chair. Awesome.

I remember thinking to myself that my plan had been foiled. I wasn't going to be able to use my birthing ball, or set up the easy listening on the radio. I was immediately thrown into a wheel chair and carted over to the labor room and set directly onto a bed where the various procedures were taken to prepare for Max's arrival...nurses scrubbing up and vitals taken.

Josh was by my side for the next 45 minutes and took great care of me while I shut out the entire world except for him and our soon-to-be-born son. I read in the Bradley book about focusing on what my body was trying to accomplish: pushing out Baby. I never thought in a million years that I would be able to concentrate and focus my body and mind as the book suggested, but guys? I totally did. I was in this weird state where I didn't care what the doctors were saying  or doing. I just breathed and focused on the pain. Focusing on the pain helped, surprisingly (surprising, even though the book suggested it would.) With every contraction I went into a calm, almost meditative state (which sounds so hokey and annoying to some, as I can imagine.) I mean, who am I? Not THAT person. I'm impatient, I'd never meditated in my life. Still don't. The idea of going to a yoga class made me uneasy. Still does.

I'm usually the person who follows directions, I do what I'm told, I don't ever want to hurt people's feelings. These nurses were talking to me and I didn't acknowledge them at all. (I felt bad once Max was born because I wasn't intentionally trying to be unhelpful or dismissive, but I needed to handle the pain.) Josh took over and answered any questions they had for me. At one time a group of med students were at the door and they asked if they could observe the birth and Josh forcefully, said, "What?! Um, no."  (Thank you, husband of mine.)

The final 15 minutes were spent pushing. This part was much less scarier the second time around. I was excited and proud of myself for making it through the last 30 minutes without completely freaking out. I was present and focused and more importantly Josh and I were really in this process together.

At 9:29am Maxton James was born. 8 lbs, 3 oz. He was perfect. He latched on without a hitch. He snuggled up next to me and I just knew I was done for. This little boy had my heart.

I spent the rest of the day cozied up with my brand new son in a hospital bed. The hours following Maxton's birth were so remarkably different the the hours following Mazzy's birth.

This time I had my own hospital room.

I was calmer.

I was alert.

I was happier. (Not consumed with thoughts of how to get my son to latch on correctly.)

I had endorphins running through my body. THIS is the third reason I would have had for not using pain medication.  I was enjoying those first few hours after the birth of my son on a natural energetic high. Visitors would come in and out of that hospital room and I was... chipper. Yes, chipper would be a good way to describe it. (Thank you, Ali, for your advice and for lending me your book. I could not have done it without my late night cramming sessions.)

Looking back on the experience now I am most grateful to my husband. He surprised me in so many ways and made the birth of our second (and last) child really special for the two of us in a way that we weren't able to experience with the birth of our first child.

We also had our precious Mazzy there to share in our joy. She was adorable at 2 years, 2 months, and the most loving big sister. She made my heart swell with pride as she welcomed her little brother  into our family.
(Thank you Erin, for taking care of her for those few hours.)

It has been three years since that day.  Maxton, along with your sister,  you will forever hold  my heart and soul.

Love,
Mama

(Update: Reading this back I realize I made an error....I was 8cm when the nurse initially checked me and 9cm when I made it to the labor/delivery room.)

(Okay, and also? This is not an endorsement for childbirth without the help of pain medication. I'm glad I accomplished the goal I set for myself, however, I know women who had great birthing experiences with the help of an epidural. I definitely think, to each her own, in that respect. And to be honest, if my epidural with Mazzy had come before all hell broke lose, I believe I probably would have never tried an epidural-free birth, the second time around.)