I desired an all natural birth. I read books, took classes, learned breathing techniques, and practiced meditations. I wrote up a birth plan, did my kegels, exercised, and did yoga.
My husband was on the same page as me and an amazing support person. We never read up on anything regarding a non-natural childbirth, such as a c section, because we “knew” we wouldn’t go that route.
It seemed that we were on the path for an all natural childbirth. My doctor even called me his “sunshine patient” as I had an ideal pregnancy with no complications at all. My entire pregnancy I felt great, everything was textbook, and I was prepared to have a smooth delivery.
Around 4:30 am on Sunday, May 26th I woke up to what felt like minor contractions. I remember thinking “is this real?” I went to the bathroom and came back and woke up Andrew. “I think I am having contractions.” My mostly asleep husband responded “Wouldn't it be Braxton Hicks? Maybe just try to go back to sleep. They say to rest as much as possible.” And he fell back asleep.
But I couldn’t sleep as my stomach was full of butterflies and my lower back full of minor pain, so I went and took a shower, as I was told to do that early on. I wasn’t in the shower for more than a minute when my very awake husband came in and excitedly asked “So you really think you’re having contractions?!” I assured him and it then got very real and surreal for both of us as we started timing them.
A couple of hours later, we reached out to our family to let them know that I had started labor and we would keep them updated. My older sister immediately changed her flight so she could arrive as soon as possible. My dad was hesitant and wanted to wait it out as he thought I wasn’t in active labor. My mom was 2 hours away visiting my little sister and her family, so they prepared to drive down as soon as we text them. Andrew’s parents were local.
Around 10:30 am we called my doctor. He wasn’t on-call, so Andrew talked to the doctor who was. She told us to remain at home where we would be comfortable until my contractions were closer together and more consistent. While at home, we drank coffee, listened to records, cleaned, ate, I got use out of our exercise ball, Andrew massaged me and coached me through my contractions, we finished packing up our hospital bags, and we tried to rest as much as our busy minds would allow.
A little before noon, my mom, little sister, brother-in-law, and nephew arrived. My four-year-old nephew ran into the bedroom where we were and exclaimed “is the baby here?!?!” That gave us all a good laugh. They left to get lunch and then came back to hang out at our apartment with us until we were ready to head to the hospital.
Around 4:30 pm, we decided that it was time to go to the hospital as my contractions were getting stronger and consistently 5 minutes apart lasting 1 minute long for 1 hour (the magical 511 rule).
We arrived at the emergency entrance. Andrew dropped us off and went to park the car. As I checked in and we waited for my name to be called, I felt antsy that Andrew wasn’t going to make it in time, but he did. The nurse asked me questions, took my vitals, and then lead us up to the Labor and Delivery floor. After checking in, we were put in a small triage room to be monitored, i.e., to make sure I was in actual labor and didn’t need to be sent home (which was my fear). I kept saying things like a broken record “If this isn’t active labor, then I don’t know if I am ready to experience active labor.”
My contractions were still consistent and becoming very painful. The room was so small and I was so uncomfortable being restricted to the bed as I had little room to move around. The doctor came in to check me, I was 3cm dilated. The nurse came in a couple of times, commenting on the intensity of my contractions and that they were going to continue to hold me to monitor me. She gave me an exercise ball and ginger ale. Andrew continued updating family and rubbing my back while talking me through the contractions. The doctor came in again, this time I was 5cm dilated. You would think that would earn you a room, but not yet. Labor continued as we watched the peaks on the monitor display the intensity of my contractions. The final time the doctor came in to check on me, I was on the ground on my knees hovering over an exercise ball moaning in pain. I remember the look on his face as he said, “Yup! You are in active labor so we are going to admit you.” Andrew and I both sighed in relief as 3 hours in that room was long enough.
Around 7:30 pm we finally got moved into a Labor and Delivery room. It was huge and broken up into two sections easily separated by a curtain if desired. One section had a table, pull out couch, and bathroom. The second section had my bed, monitors, an area to clean our baby, and “The Panda Warmer” - a bassinet where our baby would rest while not doing skin-to-skin or breastfeeding (our hospital encourages rooming in with your baby, so they have this bassinet as an alternative to the nursery). We would remain in this room for a couple of hours until we were moved to our postpartum room. Also, fun fact, my husband and I love pandas.
We contacted our family and close friends to let them know I was being admitted. At this point, my mom, little sister, brother-in-law, and nephew were there with us. My older sister was en route, and my dad wasn’t far behind her in his travels. Andrew’s parents were local and on standby. Our close friends held us in their thoughts. Looking back, I feel so blessed that we were surrounded by our family and friends throughout this whole experience.
Laboring during this time was rough. I had back labor and it was very painful. Our family was in and out of the room; giving me privacy and support when needed. My mom and Andrew took turns being my support person. My nurse was amazing helping me mentally and physically. She even went around to other nurses in the hospital asking them advice on different positions I could do for my back labor.
At one point, Andrew and I got to go to the jacuzzi room. To say I had been looking forward to this part was an understatement. It was a “zen” room with lavender incense, inya music, yoga inspired decor, and a jacuzzi tub. We were there for a couple of hours and I felt so much relief. Then the contractions took a turn for the worse, I thought for sure I entered the transition phase of labor. The pain came on so strong and I felt no relief.
The nurse came and put me in a wheelchair and we went back to the room. The doctor came in to check me; dilated at 6cm. Only 1 cm more than I was hours ago upon being admitted. I felt slight defeat as the on-call doctor talked to me about manually breaking my water and starting pitocin, that wasn't something I wanted. I didn’t want any interventions, so we asked to hold off.
Labored continued.
It had become so powerful. My contractions were 30 seconds apart and lasting 2 minutes long. I was in so much pain, there were times I felt like I was going to pass out. I felt no relief. I had no time to regain my strength. I was tired. I needed more in me than Italian Ice and popsicles. I had tried every birthing position known to man, did my breathing, used my meditation techniques, had my support persons doing everything they could, chewed on ice, went into the jacuzzi room, etc. But none of that seemed to help me push through the pain any further. I was screaming in pain that wouldn’t let up. It hurt in my back and honestly felt like the worst constipation ever. TMI? Well, it’s a birth story.
I had been laboring now for a total of 21 hours. I reached my limit.
I asked the on-call doctor what pain medication could I do that wasn’t an epidural. His answer “Nothing that is going to be strong enough with the amount of pain that you are in. It’ll only take the edge off and it won’t last more than a couple of hours. Honestly, I know you want an all natural birth and I respect that, but you’re in a significant amount of pain and not progressing. An epidural could help relax you enough that it could get you dilated more” I was still at 6 cm. I appreciated his honesty. Andrew and I had a decision to make. Andrew looked at me and said “I support you.”
I opted for the epidural.
I don’t remember the feeling of getting the epidural much because my labor pain was so intense. By that point I was so desperate for it that I wasn’t afraid. I also felt peace because I was so far along in labor I knew it would actually benefit me. Whatever interventions I was avoiding, were most likely around the corner, epidural or not - so I might as well be comfortable. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed with my husband sitting in front of me to help me keep still and have good posture while breathing slowly. This was very important while the epidural was being administered into my spine, which made me nervous. It was also challenging to remain so still when I was experiencing lower back pain constantly. After I got the epidural, I felt instant relief and I was also relieved that I could still wiggle my toes, which was a big deal for me (as the thought of no feeling from the waist down scared me). Plus, I got a fancy little button to push when I needed more pain relief, huge upside.
Emotionally, I felt like I had failed, given in. I felt as if I couldn’t accomplish an all natural childbirth. My older sister arrived just after I got the epidural. It must have been around 1:00 am. I cried to her telling her I tried but I couldn’t take anymore pain. She said, “You didn’t just try, you did it.” The rest of my support team, family, and hospital staff also encouraged me. I did natural labor for 21 hours. My pain was excruciating and I’m not superwoman. There’s no shame in needing the help of modern science. Had I’d been closer to delivery, I would’ve kept going, but at this point I wasn't progressing and there was no way of knowing how much longer I’d labor. I accepted that this was the right decision for me and my baby.
Over the next 11 hours, I labored with hardly any pain (I still felt minor pain from my contractions, but it was nothing like it was). I watched the monitor, I saw that those contractions continue in their intensity with brief intermissions. I could finally relax a bit. I finally felt some peace.
During the post-epidural phase, two of my on-call doctors that were replacing mine had come in on separate occasions to check on me. They saw I had no progression and said they wanted to manually break my water and give me some pitocin. “All of the interventions I didn’t want.” I thought to myself. But what did it matter at that point? Still I wanted to limit what I could. So they held off on the pitocin but broke my water; which felt super weird, especially since I was basically numb from my waist down.
Around 7:00 am, a silver lining appeared. My doctor arrived! He was not on-call, but Andrew had called him and he came in to deliver our baby anyway. I immediately felt so much peace and was so thankful. He checked me and told me that I had dilated to 8 cm now. That was definitely some progress. However, our baby was stuck in the birth canal. So he started some pitocin to try and move baby down. A couple of hours later, he came back to check on me; no progress. Still 8 cm dilated, baby still stuck. Same thing a couple of hours after that. A few hours later, he came back; still no progress and my cervix was swelling.
Now I was at 32 hours total of labor. Nothing had changed in about 6 hours and the likelihood of further progression looked hopeless. So my doctor recommended a c section. His rightful concerns were that it was the best choice for me and my baby as the baby was stuck in the birth canal and my cervix was swelling, there was no way he was coming out on his own now.
I did not want a c section. I wasn’t prepared for one either. I had written it off completely during my pregnancy. My knowledge on the surgery was embarrassingly limited. Yet, I felt peace about it and knew it was the right, if not the only choice. So we all started preparing for it.
Around 12:30pm, I remember being moved from my room to the OR. Our families behind helping Andrew get prepared and waiting in the waiting room outside of the OR. All I could do was stare at the blinding white ceiling. I was scared but I knew I would be okay. I wished Andrew could have been by my side the entire time, but I knew he would be there for the surgery.
When I entered the OR, there were what looked like 20 people - all making their final preparations. I was moved to the operating table, curtain put up in front of me immediately, my arms stretched out as I was told “We aren’t strapping you down, but we need you to grab and hold on to these leather straps.” Everyone was calm and acting casual. Everything was very routine and quick. It was obvious they could all do this surgery in their sleep. The anesthesiologist said to me “I am giving you some of the good stuff, then we are going to test you, if you feel anything painful, tell me and I will give you more.” I felt some pressure on my lower stomach, it didn’t hurt but I could feel it. Paranoid, I told the anesthesiologist to give me more, and he did. As I lay there looking around the parts of the room I could see, I felt very relaxed (thanks to the drugs) but very constricted. Everything was foreign and I started to become uncomfortable. Then, I heard my doctors voice, he greeted me with comfort. That helped. But I didn’t see Andrew. Someone then asked, “Are we ready to get started?” I must have slurred with fear my husband’s name, “Andrew” and another person said “We gotta get the dad here. Where’s Andrew?”
Andrew came in and sat next to me. He was dressed in a white hazmat looking jumpsuit with a surgeon's mask and hat. All I could see were his eyes. But that was all I needed. I don’t remember what we talked about, I just remember focusing on his eyes and trying to not think about what was going on behind the curtain. I felt nothing but a small amounts of pressure maybe once or twice. However long later, our doctor said, “Oh, we have a beautiful baby boy!” Andrew and I nervously looked at each other because we didn't hear him cry. A moment later, we heard the most beautiful cry and then we cried with joy. We were parents.
Warren Charles Greenspan was born at 1:51 pm on Monday, May 27th and then passed back to us. He was swollen and beautiful. We kissed him and then him and Andrew went away so Warren could get cleaned up, etc. It wasn’t easy seeing my son for the first time and not being able to hold him. It was even harder to lay there for who knows how long while they sewed me up.
After they left, it felt like I was in there for hours. My anesthesiologist was great at distracting me by carrying a conversation with me about Oklahoma (coincidently, he recently visited a friend who lives there). I must have been quite entertaining to him, too, as I slurred every syllable that came out of my mouth.
Once they were done, I was transferred back into a moving bed to be wheeled back to the post-op room. There I would be monitored for a couple of hours before being moved to our postpartum room. My heart leaped with joy when Andrew brought Warren in and placed him on my chest so we could do skin-to-skin and I could breastfeed for the first time. Finally, I got to (kind of) hold my baby. I was still a bit numb from all of the pain medication, so I couldn’t actually hold him, but it didn’t matter - he was here and it was magical.
That was the most beautiful moment of the entire thing; Andrew, Warren, and me bonding for the very first time as a family.
When we moved to our postpartum room, we spent a few hours just the three of us bonding and resting. We then welcomed our families to come in and meet Warren. Our best friends and Warren’s godparents came later that evening.
I was on bedrest for one day. Walking for the first time was really hard because my legs were heavy and swollen from being pumped full of saline. My incision was very painful. It was very tough getting in and out of bed. I couldn’t get Warren out of the bassinet to feed him, Andrew had to do it for me. I could barely even walk the hallway until our last day there.
My mom, my older sister, and Andrew’s mom was a big help coming to the hospital to hang out, bond with Warren, and bring us things we needed such as good coffee! Andrew and I indulge in the “free” hospital food. We didn’t sleep much; between feedings, adjusting to Warren’s cries and needs, all of the hospital noises, my need for pain medication every 4 hours, and someone coming into our room every hour. But let’s be honest, the hospital bed and cot aren’t comfortable anyways.
Warren was a cuddle monster from day one. He had trouble sleeping alone in his bassinet, so I held him most of the time, which I loved. During this time he nursed a lot, I was basically a pacifier. The nurses encouraged this for my milk supply to come in. They were all so helpful with breastfeeding, swaddling, diaper changes, etc. My doctor and Warren’s pediatrician came in every morning to check on us. During our stay, we felt very comfortable, educated, and looked after - somewhat preparing us to go home and do this on our own.
Recovery at home was challenging. It took me forever to walk up the stairs to our apartment when we got home from the hospital. Andrew was worried I wouldn’t be able to and had his buddies on standby to carry me up; luckily I was able to do it, just very slowly. My older sister helped me shower the first time. My mom and Andrew helped me with breastfeeding. My mom and older sister grocery shopped, cooked, cleaned, did laundry, etc. They made it to where all Andrew and I had to do was focus on my recovery and Warren - and an attempt at sleep. I basically lived in a robe and nothing else the first two weeks, those were the toughest. It was hard lifting, getting in and out of bed… really doing anything requiring mobility. Breastfeeding was also a challenge, with a baby learning to work for food and sleep deprived mom (I almost fell asleep a few times during those middle of the night feedings). But we didn’t give up and eventually we were in sync with one another.
Over the next seven weeks, I slowly began to heal. I felt no more pain and my swelling was gone. I got to actually do normal things, like handle Warren myself with confidence, clean, cook, do laundry, do weekly photoshoots of Warren, etc. We started going for walks - short ones with no hills that eventually turned into our usual daily route around Historic Bethlehem. We also started taking Warren out in public to restaurants. My cabin fever went away as I was finally able to get outside our lovely apartment.
After week seven, I felt fully healed. I was beginning to be myself again. I was doing even more normal things again such as driving for the first time in at least seven weeks. I was able to really balance myself as mom and individual. It felt great. Just a side note, my first driving trip and trip alone was to our local Wawa up the street - it was awesome.
During all of this time, we were surrounded by family and friends who visited, brought us things we needed, and loved on Warren. I can’t express how blessed we are to have such amazing people in our lives, and now Warren has that, too.
Now, at 12 weeks postpartum, I write this story. The fourth trimester seems like a blur. And being sleep deprived, most of it was. But there really seems to be a turning point in us and in Warren now that he is three months old. Andrew and I have really come into our own being parents and balancing this new life of ours that we adore so much, soaking in every wonderful moment.
Someone once told us that “being a parent is the most challenging yet wonderful thing you’ll ever experience.” They were right. We’ve been unsure, we’ve had obstacles, we’ve had 3am arguments, we’ve suffered from sleep deprivation, we’ve been peed and spit up on, we’ve been scared, and we’ve been frustrated. We feel all of the new parent emotions. We laugh, play, cuddle, make new traditions, learn, have confidence, feel so much joy, and bond as a family. We can’t remember life before Warren came into it, and we love it that way.
My birth story isn’t the one I thought I’d have. As I write it, Warren naps next to me. I look at his beautiful chubby face and I feel so blessed to be his mom. I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter how he got here, it only matters that he is here - healthy and happy.
So many things are out of our control. I’m reminded often that it’s important to take every moment breath by breath and have faith. I am here, Warren is here, Andrew is here, and we are doing amazing.
Turns out, my birth story ended up being better than I imagined.