Alright y’all, for those of you who don’t follow me on Instagram or know me IRL, I did a thing: two months ago, I had a baby! WOO!! What an experience! I’m finally ready to rehash it, so for those who are curious, LET’S GO!
Note: this birth story may cause fear or anxiety. While I’ve kept it all high level, please consider this a gentle trigger warning.
The first thing to know is that I’m currently living in The Netherlands, where home birth is common. So that’s what I opted for: a no-med, home water birth. In the months leading up to my delivery I practiced meditation and hypnobirthing (which is really just a fancy term for repetitive meditation related to the birth – a sort of calming, pavlov-effect for labor, if you will), and actively visualized the type of labor I wanted: a calm, non-medicated experience in which I delivered my own baby. Get ready folks: you know what they say about plans!
Two and a half weeks before my baby’s due date, I got hit with insomnia, as well as a big wave of energy. “This is it”, I thought to myself. And sure enough, fifteen days before her due date, I woke up, stood up and *GUSH* – my water broke in complete hollywood style! In my half asleep state, I was in a bit of denial. Luckily my partner was cool, calm and collected. He woke up quickly and he called our midwife to let her know. As expected, our midwife reminded us that:
- First babies tend to take a while
- Daylight typically slows or stalls labor
- So between the two above, we shouldn’t expect much action during the day, but that my contractions would probably begin that night.
With that in mind, we had breakfast and then went out in the neighborhood for a juice and a stroll. That’s when my contractions (or surges, as we call them, from our hypnobirth training), began. I remember standing outside, talking to a fellow fitness instructor that we’d bumped into on the street and thinking “OMGOSH I’m having a baby – but cool cool, keeping it to myself”. After twenty minutes I was ready to be back home. In the two hours since my water had broken, the surges had both begun and picked up in frequency/intensity.
Thinking we had a long way to go, I decided to bake a cake. This was inspired by the fact that the Dutch call the latent phase of delivery (when surges are spaced far apart and are not very intense) the “bake a cake” phase. The idea is just to distract yourself and do some things to stay relaxed, but, being me, I took it literally. Except that as I was stirring, I couldn’t help but think “wow, this feels like something … and that … and that”. At one point I found myself doubled over and wondering aloud “how do these Dutchies DO this?!?” Luckily, the midwife was scheduled to visit us in the afternoon, so I had some reassurance on the way. Or so I thought! Upon checking me, she announced that I was just 3cm dilated and that at that rate I’d probably have a baby by midnight.
I was stunned. The surges seemed so intense, and yet I was only at the beginning?? What?
The midwife offered to stay and we took her up on it. In the meantime my partner set up the birthing pool and I was encouraged to “find a position that’s comfortable”. Fine in theory, except that I couldn’t find one. I moved and moved. I tried piles of pillows, standing, getting under blankets, curling up, laying on my side, resting on all fours … I tried everything suggested and yet I just felt restless. Meanwhile the surges were mounting. I tried to settle into them and distract, since I’d been told that we had many hours to go, but it just didn’t feel the way I’d imagined the “bake a cake” phase to be.
An hour and twenty minutes and lots of deep breathing later, I asked to be checked again. My midwife kindly reminded me not to expect much but agreed to take a look. To her surprise, I’d managed to go from 3cm dilated to 7.5cm dilated in under ninety minutes! No wonder I was so restless and uncomfortable! Talk about hard work! (For those who aren’t aware, the average labor typically progresses at 1 centimeter an hour, or less.)
The knowledge that the labor was progressing was empowering. I took the surges more seriously and used all the tools at my disposal: deep breath work, distraction, meditation and my birth pool. Oh, and movement: I was probably one of the most “walky” birthing people my midwife has ever had. I just couldn’t stop! In the pool, out of the pool, to the bathroom (something about the small, enclosed space felt good), back to the pool, repeat. My partner stayed with me every step of the way.
At one point, as the intensity mounted, I began to laugh and cry simultaneously. “This is crazy man!” I told my partner with tears in my eyes. The hormones were strong and the waves of of the surges had not been undersold, but deep down I knew I could do it.
Somewhere around transition my mother arrived from Paris. Between her and my partner, I did the work that needed to be done. I breathed. I did the occasional moan (not here to be a hero, y’all), and at one point I deliriously told my partner that I was tired and that he had to “do it for me”. (HA.)
It was only once I got approval to push that I felt a deep calm settle in. This was it. This was what I was born for. I could do that work – and I did! Just 8.5 hours after my first surge, my baby girl arrived! And, to my absolute joy and empowerment, I did “self-deliver” in the sense that I caught her and pulled her out and into me. I cannot undersell the importance of that moment in my life. It truly made me feel like a superhero. If you ever have a baby, I STRONGLY recommend trying it – it’s magical!
Holding my baby girl in that pool was transcendent. I couldn’t believe what I’d done!! I’d GROWN A HUMAN. Needless to say, I was ready to relax and to get to know my baby!
At that point I assumed the hard part was done. Unfortunately for us, the experience was far from over. Little did I know that the pendulum would be swinging from one extreme (crunchy granola) to the other (an emergency surgery), very shortly. I’ll spare you the details, but in short, my placenta simply wouldn’t come*. Suffice to say the situation was dangerous, so instead of spending those precious first few hours with my baby, I was rushed to a hospital and then to an emergency operating room where I had to be put under general anesthesia so the surgeon could remove my placenta manually. Before that I was given two rounds of medication to induce contractions, and was manually manipulated (they tried pushing and pulling on the uterus to see if the placenta would release), but nothing worked.
When I woke up after my throat was raw from my breathing tube, I had stitches from my surgery, a bruised tailbone and (unbeknownst to me at the time), a damaged pelvic floor (most likely also from the surgery). I was also all alone. When the night nurses did come they were insistent that I stay there as the meds wore off. I must have asked for my baby for an hour before I was finally brought into the room where she and my partner were waiting. In just a few short hours my birth had gone from blissful and unmedicated to bloody and maximally medicalized.
It was an awful night. When they finally handed me my baby after the operation I felt so strange and disconnected. My partner and my mother couldn’t stop gushing about how perfect she was, but all those amazing feelings I’d had at first felt dimmed. I was bleeding and in a lot of pain, which unfortunately would continue for several weeks, despite my best efforts to act as if everything was fine.
It took almost two weeks before I finally admitted to anyone (including myself) how devastating the second part of my birth process had been. It also took about that long for me to stop trying to move as if I was healthy and give in to the stillness required to properly heal. (Those of you who follow my #MondaysAreForMamas series on IGTV may have noticed that I did one standing routine, but that since then it’s been something seated, such as a meditation. Now you know why!)
The wonderful news is that now, two months later, baby is great and I’m doing much better! I still have some unresolved injuries from the surgery but I am healing and adapting. I’ve started training again (slowly!) and I can’t wait to start creating new content and dreaming up new class programs for y’all! Speaking of which, baby girl says she can’t wait (ok, it’s me, it’s me!) to see you all in a baby + me barre class soon – so keep an eye out for that one. 🙂
In the meantime, I’ll be back soon to let you know about my 4th trimester experience and my top prenatal/postnatal tips and tricks. Let me know if you have any questions! Until then, be sure to check out my YouTube channel to sweat with me at home, and to follow along on Instagram for updates!
Xoxo,
*a retained placenta occurs in only 2% of all deliveries
Leslie
Brava for telling this story in such an honest way.