How does a pandemic birth story start? You would think that by my sixth labor I’d know exactly what was going on. Yet there I was, awake at 2:20 am on April 16 in the middle of a global pandemic. Not sure if my water had broken or if I’d wet the bed. Talk about déjà vu. When my water had broken with my son it had happened in a big gush of fluid that never stopped. And the other time my water had broken (with baby number five) it had been a small trickle. So I’d experienced both ends of the spectrum. Little did I know that this global pandemic birth story would be as atypical as my last.
Originally I had planned to go to the hospital right away if my water broke. After all, I wanted to only stay in the hospital one night. This meant I had to get both round of antibiotics in time. I did not want a repeat of what happened with my third baby. However, I second guessed myself when my water broke and contractions were so sporadic. I decided to wait a little bit, at least until contractions got somewhat regular. So it wasn’t a couple hours later that I woke Mike up. By that point I’d paced around our room so much I’d practically worn a hole in the carpet. I’d also put my toiletries in my hospital bag and gotten ready–minimal makeup and curled hair. After all, I had some time to kill, ha ha.
a global pandemic birth story
We made it to the hospital around 6:30 am after having breakfast, making final preparations, and saying a prayer. As had happened before, my contractions fizzled out a little on the drive to the hospital. They’d gone from about 3-5 minutes apart (yikes!) to sporadically 7-15 minutes apart.
There was a station set up right inside the sliding doors where a nurse checked our temperatures and handed us face masks. Then we were ushered past security to labor and delivery. I was in triage for a little while first while they monitored my sporadic contractions. They also confirmed my water had broken. Honestly, I was still a little unsure because baby’s head was so low it was stopping much fluid from coming out. When they checked me I was 6 cm. dilated. That was nice to hear since I had been 4 cm. dilated the day before at my last doctor’s appointment.
They started my first round of antibiotics in the triage room and I was so thankful! I don’t know why they’ve never done that before. By the time it was done running through the IV they were ready to move me into a room. Once we were in our own room we were allowed to take our masks off. I had some time to pass while I waited to receive the second round of antibiotics (you’re supposed to get at least two doses and they’re spaced four hours apart). Anytime I sat in bed my contractions slowed down, whereas when I was up walking around they were about 3-5 minutes apart. So I tried to stay in bed as much as possible until my second round of antibiotics finished.
not much was happening
Unfortunately, even though I hadn’t been checked since arriving, I didn’t feel like much was happening to progress labor along. Even once I got out of bed and was pacing around the room it didn’t seem like my labor was progressing. In fact, after all my concern that I wouldn’t get my required antibiotics in time I actually ended up getting a third dose. I walked around my room, did gentle “pushes” with each contraction, and even spent some time bouncing on an exercise ball. Keep in mind of course that my water had broken hours earlier so I was leaking a little bit everywhere—ah, the joys and indignity of labor.
exhaustion had set in
My body was starting to get pretty tired by this point. I had been up nearly every night for weeks with inconsistent contractions and my body was worn out from lack of sleep. Worst of all, it still felt like I had so far to go. My contractions had finally gotten regular again, about 3-5 minutes apart. However, I still felt like they weren’t all as intense as I had experienced in the past. It was about 2:30 pm when Mike started talking about getting some food really quickly (since the cafeteria was closed—another COVID-19 casualty). However, I was nervous of him leaving since I really had no idea how far along I was. They hadn’t checked my dilation since I’d gotten to the hospital. And I know from past experiences that sometimes my body makes progress unexpectedly.
Sure enough, I requested the midwife check me and she said I was 8 cm. dilated. I was glad I’d made progress of course. But I think every woman secretly wants to hear that she’s somehow magically made it to 10 cm. without realizing it. The contractions were also starting to amp up which was all the motivation I needed to get this baby out asap. I bounced on the exercise ball some more and then moved on to squatting by the side of the bed during my contractions.
“what was that?!?”
My wonderful nurse and midwife were in the room chatting with us and preparing for something to happen. After all, with a sixth baby you just never know how quickly things will happen! I was squatting low by the side of the bed during some rough contractions. I was doing some light pushes during contractions when all of a sudden I felt and heard a big “POP”. Honestly, it was so loud I thought that the baby had come out and she’d smacked her head on the hard floor. I asked Mike, “What was that, what was that?!?” truly terrified in my exhausted, incoherent state that I’d just killed our baby. Remember when I said the my water had broken but because baby’s head was so low not much had come out? Well, thankfully (and obviously) it was just my water breaking the rest of the way.
time to push
They scrambled to get me on the bed to get ready to push. Then Mike grabbed the mirror so I could see. I’ve never gotten a mirror brought to me in time so I was excited to finally see! In hindsight I wish I’d stayed squatting a little while longer. My contractions were only about 3-4 minutes apart at this point. So it was a really odd feeling to be laying in bed waiting so long for a contraction to come so I could push with it. And although I’d been excited for a mirror, it actually might have been to my disadvantage because when I looked with each push it seemed like nothing was happening and baby girl would never come. I clearly remember looking at Mike at one point and shaking my head because I felt so helpless.
It took about 30 minutes of pushing—which for me is a long time—but baby girl finally came out. All 9 pounds, 4 ounces of her. According to the nurse she also had broad shoulders and a large head, which help explain why she was my hardest baby to push out. We both burst some blood vessels in the process, something I hadn’t done since my first labor.
the longest night
It took awhile for them to have a recovery room ready for us so it wasn’t until around 8:00 pm that our long day started drawing to a close. Mike left to go get himself some dinner while baby girl and I got settled in. I’m so thankful that although our hospital was only allowing one support person with laboring mothers, they were allowed to come and go as needed. The minute he got back I took a much needed shower and changed into some “regular” clothes (you know, yoga pants and a tshirt). Then he went home to be with the kiddos until the next day. By the way—at this point baby girl still had no name.
That first night was a little rough. I was so exhausted and I feel strongly that you let baby sleep and they’ll eat when they’re hungry. However, not all nurses feel the same. Since they kept having to check her blood sugar levels (because of her “large” size) it meant we were up most the night. But we pulled through and after failing her second blood draw (by one measly point) she aced the others like a champ. We finally decided on a name about 30 minutes prior to being discharged and walked out of the hospital 24 hours after giving birth.
all’s well that ends well
Looking back at all my labors now it’s interesting to have some perspective. I really think that my first labor with my son left me with some mild PTSD. This definitely shaped the way I approached my other labors. My desire to labor as long as possible at home as well as my fear of Pitocin. And definitely not wanting to be confined to a bed. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing in my case, but it was something I’d never thought of before now.
So that’s the story of how my last little baby came into the world. My global pandemic birth story. And my reminder that I’m so much stronger than I think.