the birth of quinn mary - part 2

I got up from the bed and wasn’t sure what to do next. I thought they were going to guide me and sort of tell me what to do, but they just let me do my thing, which I suppose is exactly what I had always wanted.

I leaned over the bed for a while as Ronni used a handheld device to check the baby’s heartbeat, which sounded great. She checked the baby intermittently throughout the rest of the labor and for some reason I remember it hurting a lot, although I have no idea why or how it would hurt me. It seemed as though anything touching my body from this point on was just painful.

I had about three or four contractions before I finally declared I couldn’t stand the hospital gown anymore and ripped it off my body. Every time I leaned over the bed or moved in any way, it would fall into my face or just get in the way somehow. It seemed totally unnatural for me to be wearing such a ridiculous article of clothing during the single most uncomfortable moment of my life. But since I hadn’t made any plans to wear anything else during the labor, I didn’t have a backup. So there I was, completely naked and honestly, I couldn’t have cared less.

Trust me when I say I am no exhibitionist. I don’t even like wearing a bikini around my best friends. People told me I wouldn’t care what I was wearing when I was in labor, but the modest girl in me didn’t believe them. But oh, they were right. At 9cm, all my insecurities went out the window. I didn’t want anything touching me and all I cared about was getting that human being out of my body. I was in survival mode.

At this point, everything was completely overwhelming. I had absolutely no concept of time and I was just moving from place to place in the room trying to find an area I felt comfortable in. It was very primal, like an animal in the woods trying to make a nest to birth in. 

The contractions were relentless, coming one right after the other. At first, I stayed leaned over the bed for what seemed like forever, rocking back and forth, doing squats and planting my face in the bed every time a contraction hit. At one point, in between contractions I realized that I should probably be embarrassed by the fact that Ronni was sitting in a chair directly behind me, just watching, as I was bent over the bed completely naked with my bare ass and everything else right in her face. But then, another contraction hit and the thought escaped me.

I decided to move to the bathroom, hoping that sitting on the toilet would give me some sort of relief. But as soon as I sat down, I began screaming in pain. The pressure in my back was too much for me to sit in any way. It’s funny how all the positions and techniques I thought I would use the most (toilet, exercise ball, bathtub, shower, massage) are the ones that totally didn’t work for me.

So, I just stood in the bathroom for a while, hanging onto the handicap rail next to the toilet for dear life. Jeremy came in with me and just held me, rocking me back and forth. I remember at one point I had such a painful contraction that I became terrified. I screamed from Ronni in a panic and she ran in asking what was going on. I told her I just needed her to help and she told me, 

 “But honey, there’s nothing I can do, you’re doing it and you’re doing great.”

It was pretty frightening to come to the realization that no one could help me, but at the same time, exactly what I needed to hear. All I could think was that I needed help. I needed someone to tell me what to do to make the pain go away. But at some point during labor, you just have to let go and trust your body to do what it is supposed to do. I needed to stop thinking so much about it, quit looking for someone else to figure it out for me. It was all up to me and my baby, so obvious yet so terrifying.

For our birth plan, we had decided to go as naturally as possible as long as we were all safe – no epidural, no narcotics, no IV unless necessary and only intermittent fetal monitoring with a handheld device so I was free to move around as I wished. Our midwife had no problems with getting me an epidural or narcotics if I asked for it, but since she knew I really didn’t want it, she never offered it, and neither did anyone else. This really was key in helping me stay focused because if someone had offered it at that point, or made me feel silly for not wanting it, I would have either gotten really mad, or I probably would have doubted myself and seriously considered it. But since it was never brought up as a possibility, I never let it enter my mind and instead focused on each contraction as it came and just tried to survive through them.

After awhile in the bathroom, I headed back to the bed again. I noticed that every time I moved from place to place, Ronni would follow me with a big pad for the floor and put it under my feet. I looked down to see I was beginning to bleed all over the floor. Ronni must have sensed that I was nervous when I saw it and she assured me that it was totally normal and that I was going to see a lot more blood before everything was through. She was so right. As I learned throughout the labor, childbirth is one of the goriest things you will ever see in real life.

After standing next to the bed for a while, Ronni suggested I get up onto the bed and lean into the top of the mattress. At this point, every time they asked me to move, I thought for sure I couldn’t do it, but somehow I managed to climb up there. They lifted the back of the mattress up in an L-shape and I leaned into it with my arms draped over the top, my face planted into the pillow I brought from home, and again, my bare ass sticking straight out for all the world to see.

I remember I stayed in this position for a long time. After every contraction, Jeremy would give me sips of the most refreshing, delicious water I had ever had thanks to the awesome hospital, pebble ice cubes.

They kept offering different techniques to help with the pain management: massage on my lower back, a cool washcloth on my head, but nothing worked. Poor Jeremy was trying so hard to help by massaging my lower back, but it hurt so bad that at one point I just grunted and slapped his hand away (that was my only “mean laboring woman” moment). When the nurse tried to put the washcloth on my forehead, it would just fall into my face during a contraction. Finally I just grabbed it and threw it on the floor.

I remember Jeremy and Ronni kept asking me if there was anything I needed, but I couldn’t respond. I had reached a point where I couldn’t form sentences. They would ask if I wanted to try a new position or put on some music or get in the shower, but I just felt so helpless. I wanted someone else to make the decisions for me, to tell me what to do and what would work. I just didn’t have the strength to think for myself.

After a bit, Ronni saw my knees where getting shaky from kneeling and suggested I stand next to the bed again. I got down and after a few contractions she finally told me to try and push through the contractions instead of just putting up with the pain. She didn’t check me, but knew I was pretty much ready to go and figured it may help things along.

I always had this preconceived notion about pushing during labor, probably from all the labor stories I had read. I always assumed that the pushing part would be a piece of cake. That I would just get this sudden, uncontrollable urge, I would push a few times and that would be it.  But at this moment, I had no urge at all, which made it very difficult.

I tried on the next few contractions to push, but I had no idea what I was doing. She told me to just bear down like I was having a bowel movement but mentally, this was a very difficult thing for me to manage. Because essentially, I was there naked, being told to push like I was having a bowel movement in front of a room of people and not worry about what came out of me. Not a easy thing to do.

So, the next few pushes were pretty useless. I was pushing hard, but sort of holding back in a way. I was pushing will all my might in the front, but not as much in the back, because I guess I really was just embarrassed that I might go to the bathroom there in the middle of the room in front of all these people. It really was hard to get around this feeling to find the place where I felt comfortable enough to push effectively.

Then, I remembered something Ronni had told me once. She said,

“95% of women poop while giving birth. Most of them don’t know it because either they are in so much pain from pushing they don’t notice it, or they are numb from an epidural and don’t feel it. No one ever tells them about it and if they ask, the nurses usually lie to keep them from getting embarrassed, so they just assume they didn’t do it.”

I’m not sure how accurate these statistics are or if she was just telling me this to ease my worried mind. But in the middle of labor, remembering this helped. I chalked it up as par for the course, and started to give in. I realized it didn’t matter if I went to the bathroom in front of everyone. It was no worse than anything else they were going to see that afternoon or hadn’t already seen (well, except for Jeremy). So I started to let go. And as soon as I did, I noticed a difference.

Ronni noticed it too and right away, let me know I was doing it right. After a few more pushes, there was a huge gush and I was horrified thinking I had just peed all over the floor. Ronni told me how great that push was and congratulated me on finally breaking my water. Phew!

Then, she wanted me to try pushing while lying down on the bed, since my legs were starting to give out. I wasn’t too sure about it since I knew that being on my back wasn’t the most effective way to push and I was terrified of the pain I felt when I had first laid in that bed and she checked my dilation.

She told me that we should just try it and if it didn’t work, I could move again, so I agreed. To my surprise, it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought and my legs were so happy to finally have a break.

I still didn’t have an “urge” to push. I just waited until each contraction came and pushed through them. No one told me when to push. No one counted to ten or yelled “PUSH, PUSH” at me. It was all very instinctual. When a contraction would come, I would push with all my might, then breathe and push again. When it was over, most of the pain was gone, and I would rest, and build up the courage and energy to ride the next one.

I was in a very odd place mentally at this point. It was all very surreal. My eyes were shut the entire time I rested. I could hear conversations going on around me, Jeremy and Ronni making small talk and cracking jokes, but I couldn’t really participate in them. It was in a way, what I always thought it would be like to be in a coma with people in the room with you. You could hear them, but not really compute what they were saying or respond in any way.

I do remember the nurse asking Jeremy my weight and when he accidentally gave them a number that was a few pounds over, I quickly yelled out the correct number, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Oh, you can’t talk this whole time, but you can speak up when it comes to correcting your weight, huh?” Ronni laughed.

The only other words I managed to utter at this point where, “No, no, no…” and “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” Not really the most positive of affirmations, but that’s how I felt. I honestly didn’t think I could do it. I was pushing and pushing and feeling nothing. No progress, no movement, just more pain and endless contractions. Ronni kept assuring me that each push was helping. That I was moving her closer and that I was doing great, but I was beginning to think she was fibbing a little.

After a bit, Ronni moved me back up on my knees on the bed to have gravity help the situation. This was the hardest part of the whole labor. Ronni told me the baby may be sunny-side-up which was why she was taking so long and that the only thing I could do was keep on pushing.

A few times I nearly broke down. I cried to Jeremy that I couldn’t do it anymore, that I felt like I was going to die, to which he reminded me that it meant I was almost there. He was wonderful and kept his calm. He told me I was doing great, and how proud he was of me. That she was coming and how we would soon meet our little girl. He knew when to talk me up and knew when to not say a word. And he never took it personally. He was an amazing partner in the fact that he could read me so well that he knew I didn’t need much and let me do my thing.

My lips and throat were raw and swollen. I kept grunting and screaming through the pushes, which Ronni told me I had to stop doing because it was keeping me from pushing correctly. Once I calmed myself down and figured out not to waste all the energy out of my mouth with the screaming, it was easier for me to focus all that energy inward and I really could feel the difference in the pushes.

But still, I felt stuck. The only way to describe it is like you are trying to poop out a cinder block that is wedged inside of you horizontally. It’s huge and heavy and sideways and it’s just stuck inside of you and no matter what you do, it will not budge. It feels like the bulk and pressure is tearing you up inside and the only way to make the pain go away is to keep trying to push it out. But with each push, it hurts more. Such a helpless feeling. I remember reaching a point where I seriously thought to myself, “That’s it, they are going to have to cut this baby out of me because this is impossible.”

But somehow, even with all of that doubt, in the back of my mind I didn’t give up on myself. I knew I could do it. I knew it sucked and it hurt, but it wasn’t impossible. Women do it every day. And if they do it, so can I. I was doing it. And no matter how bad the pain, it was only going to be that way for a very short blip in my life and then it would be over. I couldn’t really think these thoughts logically at the time, but it was ingrained into my subconscious in a way that seemed to keep me going.

I remember hearing Jeremy and Ronni having a conversation around this time, where she told him,

“She is just getting to that place where she needs to realize she either pushes the baby out, or she feels this way forever. It will take her a few minutes, but she’ll get it.”

At this point, I was crying between contractions. Not a painful crying, but more of a helpless whimpering. I don’t remember it, but later Jeremy told me that Ronni let me have a few moments to feel sorry for myself before stepping in and telling me to calm down and focus on what I needed to do.

A few moments later, Jeremy had to leave the room for some reason and Ronni came over to my side. In between contractions her tough demeanor melted and she stroked my arm. She told me in a soft voice how great I was doing and how she knew how hard it was. She also knew how strong I was and how I was going to get through it and soon it would be all over, she promised.

This is why she was a perfect fit for me. She went into mothering-mode when I needed it, then into drill sergeant-mode when I needed it. 

After a bit of this, my legs gave out again and it was time to get back onto my back. I kept pushing with all my might. I remember my lips being so chapped, I felt like all the skin was coming off of them. I remember Ronni using some sort of warm oil to stretch me out during contractions, which was extremely painful. I remember I kept saying I was going to get sick and they would run to get me something to get sick in, but then it would quickly pass. I remember they kept changing the pads on the bedding from all the blood. I remember the breaks in between contractions seemed to be a little longer than they had been earlier.

I remember I felt like I was finally getting into a groove. A contraction would come and there was nothing I could do but push as hard as I could. I would push twice and then just sort of melt back into my subconscious state, where I could hear everything that was going on around me, but I wasn’t really there. And I just tried to rest and gather all my strength and courage for the next wave of pain.

Finally, after what felt like years of pushing, I felt her move down. It was just a little, and the pressure hurt like hell, but I finally felt it. This was so encouraging after not feeling like I was getting anywhere for so long.

After a few more pushes, I remember hearing everyone go on and on about how much hair she had, which got me really excited about how close she was to coming out, but also a little worried I was giving birth to a monkey. Seriously, they went on and ON about it.

Ronni asked me if I wanted to feel the head and to my surprise, I reached down and felt it. It was soft and squishy and for a moment I was worried I had pressed too hard and hurt her. I knew I had a lot more work to do, but it was good to finally feel like all my pushing wasn’t in vain and it gave me the energy I needed to keep going.

More pushing. Jeremy was in my ear after every contraction telling me how great I was doing. The nurse was telling Ronni how amazed she was with my strength. She wasn’t use to seeing women labor like this. Ronni kept calling me a “rock star” and raving about how this was the perfect delivery.

“Something you would see on A Baby Story!” she exclaimed.

Even if they were all lying to me, it was helping tremendously. I kept on going.

Finally, I looked up and saw the most glorious sight. Ronni was finally putting on a gown over her clothes and a nurse was pulling a table with tools up to the bed.

I could really feel the pressure building up in my abdomen now. She had seriously moved down and even though I didn’t think it could have been more painful, it was.

A few pushes and they pulled out the giant football stadium lighting to get prepared for her to come out. This was the last thing they needed to do to prepare and I knew we were so close. I was so relieved that is was all going to be over soon, yet in total shock that I was actually about to meet this little girl.

The next push was the worst. The stretching and pressure from her crowning was like nothing I could have imagined. And the burning…they weren’t kidding when they named it the “ring of fire”. It’s a completely accurate description. When I stopped pushing, she slid back in a bit and the burning stopped. I was scared when I realized I was going to have to push through that pain again and find out a way to get through to the other side

The nurse asked me if I wanted a mirror to see the head crowning. The whole time I was pregnant I said there was NO way I wanted a mirror down there, but something inside of me in that moment said yes. I suppose I was just so worn out from the endless pushing that I needed to see that I had progressed, that this was really happening. When she dashed off to find one, Ronni suddenly seemed flustered and said, “Well, don’t be gone long!!” Hearing this made me so happy, we were finally there.

Another push and the ring of fire came back with a vengeance. I was screaming, more in fear I think than pain, when Ronni told me to push through it and the feeling would be over. I pushed through the fire when I suddenly felt the head come out. It felt almost explosive. At that exact moment the nurse came running in the room with a giant mirror and told me to look up.

This moment was similar to that scene in “Knocked Up” when Katherine Heigl’s character see’s the baby crowning in the mirror and freaks out. Only, what I was seeing was not just the top of my baby’s scalp. It was the ENTIRE head of my baby, which looked ENORMOUS, coming from between my legs. My first instinct was horror and fear and I immediately started panicking. Ronni was prepared for this and told me to look away and just give one more push.

6:21 pm

I let out one last, long hard push. Noises came out of me that I didn’t even know existed. I felt like I was turning myself inside out. Everything around me in that moment, seemed to be engulfed in a red, firey panic. It was almost like I was having an out-of-body experience and watching it happen to someone else. This couldn’t possibly be happening to me. I couldn’t possibly be giving birth.

And then, just like that, in the single most surreal, painful, exhausting, relieving, scary, gory, intense, fulfilling, amazing, empowering, exhilarating, joyous, unbelievable moment of my life…our little girl was born.

And just like everyone told me, all the pressure, the pain, the burning, everything was gone, instantaneously.

Jeremy told me later that Ronni took his hands and had him catch the baby as she came out. He had been on the fence about doing this the whole time and in the end, she didn’t wait for him to decide and just made him do it. I’m glad that he was able to be the first one to touch our baby girl as she came into the world.

Instantly, a flood of endorphins washed over my body. Without even thinking about it, I instinctively started calling out for my baby and they put her naked, slithering body into my hands. I tried to bring her up to my chest when I felt a sudden tugging. Ronni told me not to pull yet because the cord was so short and they needed to cut it immediately so I could hold her. She asked both of us if we wanted to cut it, but neither one of us did, so she took care of it and then placed her on my bare chest. There we were, mother and daughter together for the first time, skin on skin. Instantly in love.

Those first moments I looked at my daughter were simply indescribable. She was nothing like I thought she would look like, but a million times more beautiful. She was wet, but looked a lot cleaner that I thought she would be. She wasn’t crying but was making little random kitty noises. Her arms and legs were flailing wildly and her dark, squinty eyes darted around ferociously, trying to focus on the light, the commotion and this strange face looking down at her. She was perfect in every way. And most importantly, she was healthy, all 6lbs, 15oz of her-wonderfully, beautifully, extraordinarily healthy.

Jeremy finally asked me who she looked like. We had a few names picked out, but didn’t want to settle on the final name until we met her and made sure she looked the part. There was no doubt, as soon as I laid my eyes on her, she looked like Quinn - 100% Quinn.

So there she was, our daughter: Quinn Mary Harrish Jordan.

There really is no way to describe the feeling I had at the moment I held my named daughter in my arms. It was simply pure, raw joy. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy. Jeremy was kissing me, telling me how much he loved me and how proud he was of me. Everyone was telling me how great I had done and how beautiful and healthy she was. Quinn rooted her way down my chest and started nursing instantly. It was a dream. The child that we had longed for, had tried and tried and failed to achieve for so long, was finally here. It was the moment I had always wished for.

And then I felt it. She peed on me. My new, beautiful, lovely little girl peed all over me in our very first moments together in her life. Normally, this would have grossed me out, but after what I had just been through, my gross-out threshold had been raised a bit. It was hilarious and perfect.

Unfortunately, no labor and delivery is 100% flawless. And this is the point where mine took a turn for the worse.

Ronni was waiting patiently for me to start contracting again so I could deliver the placenta. The only problem was, I was done. I had contracted for so long, my body simply gave up. There were no more contractions to be had by this uterus. At. All.

As she reached for the cord that was cut, it snapped off from the rest of the placenta that was still inside of me. There was no way to get the placenta out unless I started contracting. If it didn’t come out, I could start to hemorrhage.

She waited about 20 minutes for me to contract naturally before she felt the need to take some action. She first started to massage my stomach, but it wasn’t working. They had me continue nursing, while some other nurses came in and they all started massaging my stomach…hard.

Then, things got kind of scary. Everyone suddenly started working a little bit faster and with a bit more purpose.

They gave the baby to Jeremy so he could hold her and before I knew it, Ronni was shoving, not one but three tablets “where the sun don’t shine”, to try and get my uterus to start contracting. I remember wondering in that moment if that was really where she had meant to place those. This hurt horribly and unfortunately, didn’t work (she later told me she had never seen anyone not contract after that dosage).

So she had the nurses give me a shot of pitocin in the arm. Still no contractions.

Suddenly, a new nurse was there inserting an IV, which she had to attempt a few times since she couldn’t find the vein. They used the IV to give me two bags of pitocin. All this time, the nurses were still painfully massaging my stomach. Still nothing.

Ronni is usually pretty calm and collected and Jeremy and I both noticed she was starting to get a little nervous. She was asking the other nurses who the Dr was on call because she was concerned she was going to need a Dr to come in and help her. But she did have one final trick up her sleeve…literally.

Next thing I know, her entire forearm was inside of me, pulling out the placenta. This, without a doubt, was the most painful part of the entire labor experience. It only lasted about two minutes, but it was intense. She ended up getting everything out, but I have to say…damn.

After it was over, I was glad she didn’t fill me up with narcotics, since it would have knocked me out and prevented me from being able to breastfeed, but those moments were pretty insane. She later told me she had only had to do that one other time in her entire 15 year career as a midwife…to her sister-in-law!

Probably the worst of it for me was when I looked over at Jeremy, sitting in the chair holding Quinn, watching us with a look of fear in his eyes. Somehow, I knew I was going to be fine and I kept trying to tell him I was going to be OK, but I don’t know if he believed me.

Once that ordeal was over with and they realized I was not going to hemorrhage, I needed 4 bags of antibiotics (because of Ronni having to manually extract the placenta), a numbing shot and a few stitches from some minor tears, which compared to everything else I had just been through, was no big deal.

Within a half an hour of getting my stitches, I was up and out of bed on the way to the bathroom.  Even with everything that had just happened: three hours of intense pushing, all the drama at the end of the labor and doing it all on only three hours of sleep, I still felt amazing, mentally and physically. I had a normal amount of bleeding (which is still a lot, good Lord) and more pain in my shoulder muscles (from hunching over while pushing) and throat (from grunting) than anything else.

We spent the rest of the evening in an adrenaline-induced state of euphoria. Our wonderful nurse Alyson gave Quinny her first bath, while Jeremy took tons of pictures for me. Then, they swaddled her up and we all hung out on the bed together for the first time as a family, calling our parents to deliver all the good news, texting and emailing all our friends with stats and pictures, all while marveling at the perfection of our newest family member-our beautiful new daughter. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe I had just given birth to this amazing creature. And I couldn’t believe I was able to do it all naturally, just like I had hoped, with the help of my fantastic midwife and my wonderful, loving husband.

It’s been 10 weeks since Quinn has been with us and everyday I think back to the day she came into our lives with such feelings of joy and gratitude. I am extremely grateful for the ability to give birth the way I had always hoped and never for a moment do I take it for granted. I know that it was only possible because of the help I had from others (including Quinn), the ability I had to see the strength in myself (even when other people doubted me), surrounding myself with people who believed in me while being in an environment that encouraged me, and complete luck of the draw. I know how lucky we were that we didn’t need any sort of intervention and Quinn was cooperative and healthy. This was a huge part of it, and in the end, all that really matters.

Every day I am thankful for this wonderful, precious gift. The gift of my daughter, my husband, my family. 

They are my everything…my whole, entire heart.