Estelle's Birth

 Estelle’s Birth Story — at least the way I remember it…

by Nicole Mabry

This is the way I remember it. Feel free to help me correct the record if you were there and clearer headed than I:

The day before my due date, on a Thursday (39w6d), I started to get really antsy, so I started polling friends and surfing the net about castor oil. I went ahead and bought some and some ice cream so I could make a CO milkshake and go into labor. I waited all day to make it — then I chickened out! Then I got in the shower and decided that I. wanted. a. baby. right. now. So I went downstairs and poured myself a glass of OJ and with a tbsp of castor oil. Then, I went to bed…..

I woke up at 11 with my first contraction and was very excited. Could this be it? I waited an hour before waking Greg up — contractions every 10 minutes or so for an hour! Sweet. I called my doula to let her know I was going into labor, but I was planning on trying to sleep that night and I would call her in the morning. At 1am, I had a glass of Baileys on ice and then headed for bed. I kept contracting all night and by 6am, they were 8 minutes apart. I called Teresa, my doula, who lives about an hour away so she could head over. Then, I got in my bathtub to soak and relax. When the water got too cold, Greg gave me a massage. This labor thing wasn’t so bad so far!

Teresa arrived and the day dragged on. When we decided to start timing my contractions, they were still only at 7 minutes apart. This was in the afternoon. Teresa suggested that Greg and I fool around some to see if that would help. No change in the pattern. Then, Greg and I went walking around the neighborhood. I was having 5 minute apart contractions at that point, but as soon as we got home, they fizzled out. I went to take a nap and my contractions slowed to 15 min apart. At that point, Greg offered me some more CO & OJ. That outed me to Teresa, so she asked to have a moment alone with me. She talked to me about CO and why she was against it except as a last resort and that it doesn’t work for most people until they’re past their due date. She prayed with me and cried with me (well, I was crying at least). We chatted for a bit and since my contractions were slowing down so much, she asked if I wanted her to head home for the day. I told her that would probably be best and I went to sleep. I kept contracting through the night — but only once or twice an hour. My last contraction was at 6:30 or so on Saturday morning. I was bummed, but glad to get a little rest. I was hoping to be able to spend a night or two without contractions so I could rest up and get ready for the “real deal”, but baby girl had other plans!

I wanted to go shopping for a maternity Easter dress, but I was zonked. I made myself get out of bed, but I was beating myself up pretty bad mentally. I blamed myself for being impatient and messing up and possibly harming my baby, and exhausting myself and was totally rethinking my natural childbirth plans. After all those useless contractions, I was just tensing myself up during every single one. I really didn’t think I could do it anymore. As tightly as I was squeezing my butt cheeks on each one, there was no way a baby was coming out!

At about 3 in the afternoon on Saturday, I started having contractions again. After an hour or two, I sent Greg a text letting him know (he was at work). I went to bed. I just needed some sleep. Greg got home at about 6. We worked through contractions, but I just felt so worn down. When they got to 6-7 minutes apart, I decided I wanted to go to the hospital and get some Ambien so I could sleep. I also wanted an IV since I hadn’t eaten all day and I wanted my daughter’s heartbeat monitored to make sure that she was enduring all of this OK. Greg called the midwife and we headed off. I curled up in the backseat of the car and tried to sleep. I had a few contractions in the car, but it was pretty peaceful because I was on my way to get some help.

We got to the hospital at about 8:45 and I signed myself in. I went to triage and got checked –5cm, 100% effaced, but my contractions were still not “regular” so I was told that I could be released if I wanted to. I. did. NOT. want. to. leave!

I asked Greg to call Teresa and I decided to stay.

I was officially admitted. My first nurse was a little weird. I think she thought my uterus was going to explode (eventually, Teresa got her reassigned). My midwife, Anjili came in to check on me and to ask me what I wanted. By that point, I had changed my mind about the Ambien. I was happy to get my IV, though because I hadn’t eaten very much since my false alarm labor on Friday.

My labor room had a gorgeous view of the Atlanta skyline. Not a bad view to labor to. I did a LOT of sleeping. Strangely, it was some of the best sleep I’ve ever had….between contractions, that is! My contractions were getting regular and intense, but still not very close together. We watched the sun rise over Atlanta and it was a gorgeous Easter Sunday morning.

I asked to have my Anjili come and check me. She checked and assured me of my progress, but I didn’t want to know the numbers. Everyone seemed very happy with it, though. I just KNEW it was going to be all over soon. Teresa called her husband and told him that she would probably be at home by lunchtime. I was very excited to be meeting my daughter soon.

I had some breakfast and my morning shift nurse came in to meet me. She didn’t know that I didn’t know my progress, so she spilled the beans by telling me I was at a 7. However, hours later, I still wasn’t feeling the urge to push. Just more intense contractions. Each one lasting 60-90 seconds, but none closer than 5 minutes apart. Anjili kept reassuring me that it would happen and that she was in no rush. I was doing fine and the baby was doing fine, so no worries. Since I wanted to be doing “something” she approved me to come off the monitors (VBACs are required to have continuous monitoring in this hospital). The team suggested some nipple stimulation and then some walking. They put a “do not disturb” sign on our door…

After we were finished and got dressed and walked the hallways…and walked…and walked…and walked. I had a contraction on each lap, but when I had to go back to the room get monitored again, the contractions would slow again. Anjili checked me again and I was still at a 7.

We had another shift change of nurses and I watched the sun starting to slip down again over the skyline. I was getting frustrated and losing hope even though no one was making me feel that way. Everyone was so patient, but they could see me getting overwhelmed. I asked my Anjili about pitocin and we talked about benefits and risks. She assured me that she and the backup OB were very confident that pit in a low dose would be safe for me and the baby, so we decided to try. She told me that the best way to manage the pain was to keep moving.

While we were waiting for the order, Teresa put on the Beyonce radio station on Pandora and we started dancing. I just wanted to rest, but she had me dance two songs and rest one song. We were seriously booty shaking. Funny! We went on like that for an hour. The dancing was really helping my contractions get longer, stronger and closer together and we were hoping that the pitocin wouldn’t be needed. After our dance party hour, I got checked again. 8. Only 8. I told Teresa how scared I was and we talked about it. I was afraid that my body wouldn’t know what to do. She walked me through every step of this pregnancy and pointed out that my body did exactly what it was supposed to at every point and assured me that all I needed to do was trust it and it wouldn’t fail me. After that, we started the pitocin.

We started the pit. HOLY MOLY! There is no such thing as a “little pitocin”! I went from 90 second contractions 5 minutes apart to 2 minute contractions 1 minute apart! In doubles. Then in triples! Fast. OUCH! And I kept dancing…or trying to. I knelt down on the bed and woosh! My water broke!

Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom and Greg went with me. I think this is when I hit “transition” because I just wanted to put my street clothes back on and go home. I talked myself out of leaving because my legs were shaking. (definitely in transition). When I got up, Greg got really excited because I finally had a bloody show! We came out cheering, “Blood!” and everyone got really happy. Then, my nurses suggested that they turn UP the pit so I could get more of a break between contractions instead of triples. I said something similar to “Hell no”. The nurses came in to try to talk me into it, but it was too late. I was feeling “pushy” and asked for the midwife. Both of the midwives were at the hospital that night, so they both came.

I had the two nurses, 2 midwives, Teresa and Greg all surrounding me. I was comfortable semi sitting in bed, so I stayed that way. I did a couple of directed pushes and felt the baby coming down. They brought me the mirror so I could look. I never would have thought I wanted to see that, but it was encouraging. Then, the spontaneous pushing began. That was an amazing, adrenaline rush feeling!!! There was absolutely no pain after that moment. Baby Girl slid into her daddy’s hands and he placed her on my chest. After the cord stopped pulsing, Greg cut it. I got to hold her for a long time before they took her to be weighed. 7lbs 3.5oz. Technically, I should have won the name lottery since that rounds to 4, but, I let him have it. Estelle Rhea. It does have quite a ring to it.

I had some minor tearing, so I got my stitches and they gave Estelle back to me to nurse.

I was –and still am, I guess, feeling that amazing hormonal surge where you just love everyone and everything and it’s all glitter and rainbows. I don’t think I could be happier with how things turned out. I don’t think I emphasized it enough, but Greg was my hero! He was amazing and supportive in ways that I couldn’t imagine. I fell in love with him again and he’s just in awe of what I did; no, what we did together.

Well, that’s what happened. We had a baby, ya’ll.