My War Story, Reader Discretion Advised

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So here's the labor story, with all the gory details. For a reader's digest version, email Adam.

So there I was, almost two weeks overdue, and the midwives were threatening to induce on Monday, the 20th. I was desperate so I asked Adam to pick up castor oil and some ice cream, courtesy of JFK Fried Chicken (see pic above). (NYC culture moment: Need ice cream by the pint? Try the fried chicken place.) I mixed 1/4 cup castor oil (which is like vegetable oil) with the ice cream and some milk, hoping to make a sort of shake. It was dee-gusting, to say the least. So I ate that at around 10 PM. At about midnight, it starts to...work and I'm in and out of the bathroom with Montezuma's Revenge for the next couple of hours. I even considered lying down on the floor next to the toilet to save myself the trip.

At some point around 3, the pain switched from intestinal to something else I couldn't identify. I'd been having "practice" contractions for over a month, so I had kind of an idea what real contractions would feel like, but these were sharp, shooting pains in my hips and along my pelvic bone. I'd read somewhere that labor pains were never "sharp" so that, plus the spotting that had started, convinced me to call the midwife. The answering service had her paged and she called back right away. I must have sounded like death. She told me the pain was most likely early labor as the baby was dropping down into my pelvis. She told me to hang in there, and come into the hospital when the contractions started coming 3 minutes apart. The idea behind that was that Adam and I wanted to do most of the laboring at home, for many reasons, but mostly for comfort and to increase our chances of having a natural birth with the least amount of intervention as possible. So Adam got me to lie down in our Bradley Method position and he tried to coach me through the contractions. But they were so intensely painful, I couldn't relax. I tried standing, leaning against a wall, leaning on him, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, and finally leaning onto the back of a chair, rocking my hips forward and back. All the time, I kept telling myself, once we get to that *&^% hospital, I'm getting that &^%$# epidural! Oh, and I threw up several times, I think from the pain.

After a few hours of this, the pain changed and the contractions became a lot more "normal." Adam built me a chair/throne (see pic above) that felt very comfortable and I laid/sat down with blanket over me and he sat on the couch and started timing the contractions as he'd coach me through them. This time, the coaching worked and, with his help, I was able to labor for 3 or 4 hours like that. The pain would come like a wave. Adam would help me focus on relaxing each muscle, and just when it threatened to overpower me, the pain would peak and drop off, leaving me more relaxed than ever and I would often doze between contractions. They were coming 7 minutes apart, steadily, so we figured we'd be at this all day. Adam called to let people know he'd be missing church and his meetings, and I just focused on relaxing through each wave of pain.

About 10 or so, things were going really well (Adam was an AMAZING coach). All of a sudden, I was hit with a tsunami. I couldn't relax for the life of me and I started to cry and yell and writhe. Then another one came, then another. It was incredible. I shouted out, "Dear God, help me!" I'm not one to take the Lord's name in vain. I really thought I was going to die. Then, I felt this overwhelming need to go to the bathroom...Number 2. So I run to the toilet, there's blood everywhere, and I realize that I'm not pushing to push poo out. That's when we really freaked out. I yelled at Adam to call the midwife. He dialed the number but the call didn't go through. Are you kidding?! We tried again on my phone. No go. We tried ten times without success. (We later found out that a tower was down or something.) What should we do? Do we get in the car and drive ourselves? I didn't think I could make it to the car. But if we call an ambulance, it's all a matter of chance which hospital's ambulance shows up and then we wouldn't end up at our hospital with our midwife. What do we do?! Adam dialed 911 and described what was happening. I was in even MORE intense pain and was braying and yelling at the top of my lungs. The man on the other end told Adam to tell me, "DON'T PUSH!" I cannot describe the agony of fighting that urge to push. "Why can't I push?!" I yelled at him back. "Because you don't want to have the baby at home!" Are you kidding me? We're that close? I was completely overpowered by the urge to push and my arms and hands would seize up with each spasm of pain.

The EMT guys came quickly and, thanks be to the Lord (he was with us every step of the way), it was an ambulance for our hospital, Maimonides (which is really a miracle since Lutheran's ambulance is almost always idling outside the gas station at the end of our street and I've never seen a Maimonides ambulance in our neighborhood,) The guys check me to see if I'm crowning, tell Adam to put some pants on me (which the nurses at the hospital were not happy about), and start loading me into this carrier thing. Adam grabs the hospital bag we have yet to finish packing, throws a hoodie over his garments and basketball shorts, grabs my purse and we're out the door, in the ambulance and driving over what I believe is the most pot hole-ridden road in all of Brooklyn. I'm of course yelling all the way, though I really wouldn't call it yelling. I honestly felt like an animal--like a donkey or a cow or an elephant...but I was extremely loud as they wheeled me into the ER, and I knew I was being loud and everyone was staring, but I couldn't have cared less. My water breaks and they wheel me into Labor and Delivery where my midwife is sitting at a desk. She looks at me in shock and asks what on earth we're doing coming in an ambulance. All the labor rooms are full so they put me in an OR and lie me flat on my back on a table. I cry to Adam to lift me up. A nurse grabs one leg, Adam grabs the other, and I can FINALLY push! That pain is a whole other ball game. The angel nurse at my left tells me to curl up around the baby and push down like I'm having a bowel movement. I start to yell and grunt but the midwife says, don't vocalize, or something like that. I guess it wastes energy. "PUSH! PUSH! PUSH!" everyone is yelling at me and I'm pushing with all my might. I can't describe how it felt. I've pushed for only 15 minutes but it felt like an eternity when the midwife says she's going to have to cut me b/c the baby has passed her meconium (sp?). So she cuts me (no anesthesia--ouch!) and a few pushes later, out comes her head and OH MY GOODNESS! I feel SO MUCH BETTER. And Hallelujah, it's OVER! Little baby comes out crying and i reach for her but they take her to the side to check her out and clean her up. Adam is beside himself as they bring her back and put her on my chest. That's when I cried the sweetest tears I've ever shed. Adam helped me lift up my shirt so I could put her against my skin and she latched on just as easy as can be. It was beautiful. And it was worth it. All of it. God gave us a miraculous birth that day. And I thank Him for all the wonderful people who attended to me and Elizabeth. Adam was the true hero, though. I had no idea how well he'd do. It was so wonderful to hold her and see the joy radiating from his face as he looked at his little girl.

Then, of course, they took her away as they checked me out and stitched me up (ouch again.) But they brought her back and I didn't care if they poked me and stuck me till the day was over as long as I had her and Adam by my side.