Every pregnancy and every birth are different. In birth prep visits, one of my biggest focuses is in the fact that we can stack the deck in our favor, but we can't guarantee how a birth will play out.
I had my daughter in February 2020, already having been a physical therapist, but hadn't yet dived in to the world of pelvic floor therapy. I had started learning SOME things in my pregnancy, as learning how I could continue to exercise in my pregnancy was a major piece of my story that led me to becoming a pelvic floor therapist in the first place, but I certainly did not know it all. I, like many first time moms, spent hours endlessly adding THINGS to my registry, and panicking if I had all the right tools, and significantly less time preparing for birth or postpartum. My hospital offered tours, and we delivered with midwives, so it was a great experience of a hybrid model of care, but aside from showing up and walking through the guided tour, and taking the hospital specific newborn class, I didn't do much else. Add to that the fact that my water broke an entire month early, well before our planned hospital birth class we were supposed to take, and my first birth quickly became an experience that happened TO me, rather than an experience I was a PART of.
My disclaimer to this story, is that although I was uninformed and along for the ride, I don't regret my first delivery at all. In fact, I am so grateful for the experience I DID have, because in any other circumstances it likely would have looked largely different.
With my first delivery, my water broke at 36 weeks and 4 days. But nothing started. I didn't feel contractions. I kept anxiously waiting to see, overanalyzing everything I felt, but it was truly nothing. 12 hours after my water had broken, we checked in to the hospital, where they confirmed it was in fact my water and I was in fact not dilated or effaced, and we started the ball rolling with an induction. I had no clue what the options were for an induction-and this is where I say I am so fortunate for how it all ended up-because my midwives were patient with the process. We started with cervadil to soften my cervix, then progressed to pitocin slowly. My blood pressure was high (spoiler alert I had preeclampsia but we didn't know that yet), so they encouraged me to get the epidirual-something I wanted to "hold off on as long as possible but was open to getting it if I needed to", and it lowered after.
We started my induction at 6pm, my epidural was in by 9pm, and my baby was born, all 5 pounds and 11 ounces of her, at 12pm the next day, 32 hours after my water had broken in the first place. My baby's cord was cut quickly, she was placed on my chest and we were given the golden hour together in theory. What really happened in the first hour is the nursing staff said she wasn't nursing or latching enough, and handed her to my husband who popped a bottle in her mouth at 30 minutes old, while I watched him feed her and tried to get up to pee so we could move on to the mother baby room, to our families all waiting. Before we knew it, she was burritoed up into her little hospital cocoon, eyes slathered in ointment, a hat on her head, ready to be passed around the room to all the loving family waiting to meet her.
As unprepared as I felt for my birth, I was even more unprepared for postpartum, and will forever remember the nurse who showed me how to use a peribottle, how to line my giant pad with tucks, and how to stack an ice pack, a pad, tucks, and ointment all onto a pad for optimal comfort. That first postpartum was a whirlwind (even more so with the preeclampsia, which is a blog post for another day), and after a 3 day stint in the hospital, we went home to navigate life.
Fast forward 2 years and 9 months, and a very different story played out.
After a very stubborn little breech baby was flipped via ECV (another story, for another post), I was 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant with my son. This time, we had planned a birth center delivery at The Addice birth center in The Woodlands. Knowing I was going to opt for no epidural, I spent time beforehand researching (I still had no idea what a contraction actually felt like, even though i had already delivered a baby). I read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and Hypnobirthing. I followed birth story instagram accounts and devoured stories-both birth center and in hospital. I reframed how I felt about what was coming up away form something scary and leaned in to the transformation that was going to happen, and prepared myself to let go of control and just be in the moment.
When the moment came, I was excited. My contractions started at 8pm, and I was so excited in fact, I couldn't fall asleep. I stayed up most of the night, trying to see how things were progressing and tracking my progress in contractions (something I specifically tell people NOT to do-rest is important!!). I labored at home from 8pm to 2pm the next day. I spent some time in my bath tub. I spent a large amount of time in my dark bedroom, draped over a birth ball, napping in between contractions and waking up to ride the next wave. I spent another large chunk of time in my backyard in the warm October sun, walking back and forth, leaning on my husband, and hip swaying (I swear we looked like we were at a middle school dance, but with a very large belly in between). By the time I got to the birth center, I was 9 centimeters dilated. 3 hours later, my baby (BOY it turned out, which was a surprise delivery!) was in my arms. We spent over an hour together, laying in bed with him on my chest, snuggled up with my husband, while Nickel nursed on and off, and I ate what had to have been one of the best meals of my life.
I ended up popping over to the hospital for 12 hours for a magnesium drip due to my blood pressure (heeeeyyyyy preeclampsia again), but nothing could take away from the beauty and glory of that delivery. We went home less than 24 hours later, where we spent time settling in just the 3 of us, before Olvia came home and my inlaws and parents came to meet the baby.
Both of my births changed who I am.
My first delivery turned my entire world around. It made me a mother, and taught me the intense love that comes with that. It showed me what it was like to blindly trust others in a situation I wasn't prepared for. It was a (mostly) positive experience, because the people who supported me were fabulous, but the story could have been very different.
My second delivery was where I learned how strong, and how deep that strength goes, I really am. It broke me apart and shattered me so that I could rebuild more whole. It showed me the power of advocating for myself, and surrendering to what my body could do. It taught me to trust myself first. And it taught me how to prepare for the unknown.
I wouldn't change either birth itself, but if I could go back to myself before my daughter was born, and help her prepare for what was upcoming, I would. I would tell her to spend time, sooner than she thought she needed to, learning about birth as the physiologic process that it is, and to not fear it as a medical process that needs constant intervention. I would tell her the golden hour is more than skin to skin, but the chance for baby to nurse, to help the hormonal cascade and lay the foundation for nursing moving forward. I would tell her it's ok to tell someone no or to ask questions in the hospital, and to not assume that someone in the room has the right answer just because they work there. I would tell her she isn't being difficult by advocating for herself or her baby. I would help her find her footing and her voice.
I am so fortunate to have had two incredibly different birth experiences, as so much of what I do as a pelvic floor therapist is helping women prepare for birth and for postpartum. I have walked the same journey, and been in the same position. And while this isn't necessary to be a succesful therapist, my experiences have helped shape how I now treat, and the things I emphasize as part of birth and postpartum prep and planning.
Officing at The Addice now, after having delivered my own son there, is truly such a blessing. Every time I walk past the room I delivered him in, I can't help but smile and reflect on the experience of a lifetime.
Birth, regardless of where you choose to deliver, and whether you want medicated or unmedicated, is truly a beautiful process. Lean in to it, welcome it wholly, even if you feel a little apprehensive, and prepare for the transformation of a lifetime.
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