3-2-10 – Part 6 – Pushing up a 14,000 ft Mountain
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Near noon I began to think more often, This is getting a lot worse, I’m going to have to get an epidural. Then I’d think, NO! I don’t want an epidural.
I had this internal battle several times with myself. Each time the pain spiked, I would evaluate the idea of pain relief. The few deep tissue massages I have received actually helped me with breathing into the pain. Just like you have to breathe to get the muscle to release it’s tension, so did breathing help the contraction work for me and baby Finn. The only big difference was I wasn’t sure how long this was going to go on and with a massage you can always holler out, “That’s too much!”
Later in the day, when it was over, Linda told me she was amazed that I never asked for an epidural.
“It wasn’t a real option.” I told her. In my mind an epidural meant losing my mobility, introducing a large needle that would remove Dale from me and potentially slowling down my contractions. I didn’t want to risk any of these.
I wanted to endure the pain if it meant doing this all naturally and keeping Dale by my side. So many details had to dovetail to make the process of birth all natural. For that I thank God for answering my prayers- it was exactly (except for the meconium) as I hoped.
Knowing Dr. Leslie Ahlmeyer would be coming soon kept me going during the worst parts in the tub. It was a goal for me to look toward. I would endure until Leslie arrived. It reminds me now of the steps I took at 6 weeks pregnant to climb a 14,000 foot mountain in Colorado. A seasoned climber of 14ers had told met to not think about getting to the top, but when the air seemed thin (and when I was battling my morning sickness, trying to keep my breakfast down) to think about taking no more than 40 steps. Then when that seemed like too much, to take 30 steps, then 20 steps. Then rest between. Enduring the peaks of contractions before Leslie arrived was like climbing the last 1000 feet of that mountain. Here’s a picture of the last 200 feet on Gray’s Peak. Though I was tired I was so excited to bring Finn and I to the top.
Time flew and Dr. Leslie seemed to arrive soon. Proserpine was advocating that I get out of the tub so Leslie could check me, but Leslie batted that idea away saying she could check my cervix in the tub. I was so wiped out that I could only feel gratitude that I would not have to move much and could stay warm.
She checked my cervix and announced, “I can’t feel a cervix.”
Her announcement made her and Linda exchange looks, but I was confused. I thought this meant a new complication until Leslie asked me, “Do you feel like pushing?”
I thought, PUSHING?! No, I’m too busy getting this relaxation breathing down. I thought I had hours to go. I don’t want to push, that sounds scary and premature. You can’t be serious…
All I said was, “Umm, not really.”
Linda then explained that no cervix actually meant I was fully dilated. I had made it to 10 cm in the tub. Transition was over, time to get out and get on the bed and begin pushing.
I was feeling giddy with amazement that I had dilated so far, so fast. It was about noon at this time. I had been in active labor for 4 hours and moved to 10 cm. This was not what I expected, it wasn’t what Dale expected either. I wasn’t sure I was ready to push but here we go.
Linda and Dale helped me to the bed. It was 12:30pm. I was dripping wet and totally confused about how to position myself for this next stage.
Pushing didn’t feel right. To start with, each time I pushed it felt like the pain increased.
How could I push myself to enter more pain instead of simply breathing through it?
Someone, I think it was Linda, said that instead of breathing with the contractions, I should try to push. But pushing did not help me stabilize myself with the pain like the breathing had. This surprised me. I had heard so many women tell me that pushing was a relief, I was bewildered that I had no desire to push.
I felt like all the positions were wrong. I tried yoga “cat” and squatting and pulling on Linda’s scarf that was attac
hed to the birthing bar (where women usually hold onto with their hands)…
Every position felt unusually awkward.
The bed felt awkward.
The light streaming in the room felt prematurely celebratory. It was lunchtime and I was being asked to push and I had no idea how to do this.
Proserpine had put a bar meant for gripping with your hands. At first I gripped it, not sure what to do with this arc above my head on the bed (see picture).
Then, I decided to recline back and as I waited for the contractions to come, I put my feet up on it and bore down. That gave way to me gripping the back of my knees and pulling my own legs back to push.
I’m so glad I didn’t know then what I know now, that the baby was 9 lbs 12 ounces.
Here’s the rub, the harder I pushed the more the pressure increased on everything between my legs. When I held my breath I felt like I was no longer filling the pain with oxygen, diluting it with intentional breathing. Instead I hurt worse as I held my breath and pushed. The pain felt like it was taking over me. Holding my breath felt like a bad idea.
Every time I pushed the pain increased. Later Dr. Leslie would explain to me that this is why an epidural can be such a good idea for women, it allows them to relax and push harder when the pain would hold them back from giving their all.
Pushing was like willing myself to enter a room where someone was going to pound my thumbs with a hammer. No, it was like hammering my own thumbs with a hammer because I was the causal agent of hurting myself. Pushing required more courage than I’ve ever had to spend.
Each pull back on my legs back and then push down with my stomach muscles destroyed any hope of breaks between contractions. The pressure of Finn’s head stayed steady even when the contractions were gone. In fact the pain of his head moving into the birthing canal made the contraction pain pale in contrast to what I was creating now.
At first it was all I could do to push once or twice in a contraction. Then, with Leslie’s encouragement, “Let’s see one more push!” she’d say and I’d try for one more, to use the contraction with my pushing to move Finn down.
Once when Leslie said, “One more,” I leaned back on the bed, released my legs and gasped,
“I can’t.” I remember feeling hopelessness at that point. I told Linda and Dale, “I don’t know how much more I can do this.”
It had been an hour.
Linda said, “That’s a good sign, Jonalyn, this means you’re close, you’re very very close.”
“Close” is a relative term.
April 10th, 2010 at 12:39 pm
I “feel” your pain as I read this… the memory is an amazing thing!
April 10th, 2010 at 4:29 pm
oh i felt so very similar to this… both births.
with augustella, i felt like the pushing was confusing to me- especially after breathing through contractions for 24 hours… to get to a point where i wasn’t supposed to breath through them anymore, but to bear down. i was thankful for my doctors sensitivity and help in this part of birth as he quietly but firmly coached.
then with eden… i remember getting to pushing and having the realization- oh my, i’m going to have to do this again. with the first few pushes, again, i was so confused. then, i had this talk with myself, inside my head… “jenna, you are the only one who can push this baby girl out… it’s up to you. you have to do it.” and with that, pushing became much more effective.
i agree… pushing was not like laboring for me… i enjoyed laboring, breathing, having a rhythm, going up the contraction to the peak and back down again. pushing was something that i really wanted to end… and thankfully, it ends with a sweet, sweet reward.
thanks for your thoughts jonalyn…
April 10th, 2010 at 4:56 pm
Ah yes, I remember pushing Heather out for 1.5 hours! First the doctor said, “I see her head;it’s the size of a dime.” Then 15 minutes later, “Now it’s the size of a penny!” “That’s not much bigger, Doc!”I said. Slowly I progressed to a nickel, then quarter. It’s the hardest work you’ll ever do!
congrats!
Gretchen
April 13th, 2010 at 1:21 am
Jonalyn, You’re a rock star!!!! Respect!!!! Your sun is such a wonderful reward after all that hard work. Congratulations!
April 13th, 2010 at 1:22 am
okay so it is 1:21 in the morning thus “sun” instead of “son”