After a somewhat horrifying delivery of my first child, I was not looking forward to the actual birth process of my second child. Don’t get me wrong, many women out there have had it way tougher, but my experience was traumatizing to me. In a nutshell, after laboring for 26 hours without progressing beyond 3 ½ cm, the doctor informed me it was time for a C-section. Before we went into the operating room, the anesthesiologist gave me something referred to as a “push” with the epidural to properly numb me for the surgery. The push travelled too high in my body and as a result, I was unable to swallow or speak. It was very scary.
My dear husband asked if there was anything that the doctors could do and the anesthesiologist commented that he could knock me out, but he was not going to do that. I was thinking, “DO THAT NOW,” but I couldn’t speak so I just glanced fearfully at my husband. When my daughter was extracted from my uterus, I was not permitted to hold her because my blood pressure was crazy, I had a high fever, and I still could not swallow. To say I was freaking out is an understatement. After 9 years of trying to have a child, would I die during childbirth? This seems dramatic, but at a time of not being able to swallow or breathe well, this is where my mind went.
This reality lasted for about 30 minutes. After my husband continually asked anyone and everyone if there was anything that could be done to help me, the anesthesiologist decided to give me epinephrine. He thought I might be experiencing some sort of allergic reaction. Within a few minutes, I could swallow, my blood pressure dropped to normal, and I was finally given my child I had waited so long to meet.
Still, things were not great. Everyone’s body reacts differently to different events, but mine did not react kindly to being cut open. My recovery was brutal. It was a good 6 months before I was not feeling abdominal pain. The famous saying about how painful birth is and that you forget? Well, it has been three years and I remember it like it was yesterday. Perhaps in another 3 years it will be a distant memory, but I doubt it.
So, all in all, my first child’s birth experience was not anything I had imagined. As my second C-section date drew nearer and nearer I became increasingly petrified of the surgery. I couldn't wait to meet my baby and to find out whether or not I was having a boy or a girl, but fear levels were epidemic. 24 hours before I was scheduled for my baby’s delivery, I went into labor. All night I stared at the clock and counted the contractions. My husband repeatedly asked me to tell him when I felt another contraction and he then would briefly fall asleep. I didn’t want to wake up a doctor in the middle of the night when my water had not broken, so at 8 a.m., we called the hospital. I explained all of my physical symptoms and the doctor confirmed that I was definitely in labor. I was instructed to come in for the C-section immediately.
My husband called my sister and parents to inform them that the baby was coming a day earlier. My parents came rushing over because they had to watch our firstborn. As my husband (The King of Procrastinators) had counted on an additional 24 hours to prepare the house, he needed time to make some last minute adjustments for my parents to stay at our house. I am accustomed to how long it takes him to get out of the house for anything. As I was sitting on the couch feeling the terrified stares of my parents and silently counting my contractions, I was kind of laughing. If a laboring wife did not get my husband to run out the door, nothing would. I found it quite comical, but my parents were not amused and were obviously biting their tongues. This made the situation even funnier.
Eventually, we made it to the hospital and my water had not broken, so there was nothing to stress about. The maternity ward was empty, which allowed me lots of medical attention. I took advantage of this fact and shared my horror stories from my first delivery with every staff member who would listen. They heard me loud and clear! The pain and pressure was intense, but I could swallow, move my arms, and breathe. I felt quite confident that I had dodged another labor horror story.
Merryl Polak is the author of Murphy Lives Here, a story about her struggle with the pursuit of motherhood. After struggling with infertility for almost 9 years, she finds that parenting struggles have followed her infertility struggles perfectly!