Meeting Susan Elizabeth: A Birth Story

40 Weeks Pregnant

It’s difficult to know where to begin such a story. Do you start with the journey of trying to get pregnant? Do you start with the long wait of pregnancy? Do you start with the days of pre-labor when you’re always wondering if today is the day? Do you just give the facts? Do you share what you were thinking and feeling? The story of Susan Elizabeth begins long before she was conceived, but the story I’m telling today is the story of her birth, the story of the final working wait – the wait called Labor.

Walking the halls in Labor and Delivery

Monday, January 7, 2019 was my due date. I woke, like I had been waking for days, with anticipation but a feeling that she wasn’t coming that day. I was right. She wouldn’t come that day, but what I didn’t know is that I would begin laboring that afternoon – a labor that was to last nearly fifty-nine hours, teaching and humbling me every step of the way. That morning, I suspected that my amniotic fluid had begun to leak, but I decided to wait a little while before calling the doctor. At 2:30 in the afternoon, I woke from a nap to contractions that were different from the Braxton Hicks I had been experiencing. I didn’t realize at the time that they were labor contractions; just that they were different. I called the doctor to let him know that I suspected that my water had broken. He wanted us to go to Labor and Delivery to confirm, so we went that evening. By the time we got to L & D, I was feeling certain that my water had not broken and I was feeling so stupid. As we waited in triage, I wished we hadn’t gone. “I know I’m a first-time Mom,” I kept saying to my mother, “but I don’t want them to think I’m an idiot.” Pretty soon, a knock was followed by the entry of Emma – a cheerful, bubbly, joy of a young nurse. “I’m afraid I’m a false alarm,” I said. She laughed – a wonderful, delightful laugh. I don’t remember what she said next, but whatever it was calmed me. I was at ease with her from that point on. She didn’t think I was an idiot. We had fun guessing the sex of the baby while she hooked me up to the monitors and checked my cervix. She was getting boy vibes, she said. I was 80% effaced and dilated 2-3 centimeters. While in triage, my contractions continued. When Emma returned after determining that my amniotic fluid was not leaking, she said, “It looks like you’re in the early stages of early labor. We might see you again soon, but I’m going to send you home to labor there.” Perfect. I was completely at peace. I was wrong about my water breaking, but I was in labor.

Working through a contraction
while walking the halls

I slept relatively well Monday night, despite trips to the bathroom and contractions that continued through the night. Tuesday morning, I had an OB appointment. After checking me, the doctor asked, “Do you want to guess how far along you are?” I said, “No, I told myself that I couldn’t expect any progress.” I was 90% effaced and had dilated further to 4 cm. I was giddy. I had a feeling I would meet my baby that day. The doctor seemed to think I might meet my baby that day. I labored the rest of the day while shopping at Target, driving home, eating dinner, packing last minute hospital items. Finally, between 10 PM and 11 PM, my contractions got harder and somewhat more regular. We decided to head in to the hospital. They admitted me sometime between midnight and 1 AM on Wednesday morning, even though my contractions were somewhat erratic. It was time to focus on meeting our baby.

Working through a Pitocin-induced
contraction

Shift change at 7:00 AM brought the next nurse who was to be just the perfect person at the perfect time. Dorothy has been working in labor and delivery since 1980. When she arrived, I didn’t like her. She fussed over the state of my pillows, told me to work through contractions differently than I had been, and made me get out of bed and walk the halls. She made me her concoction of cranberry and apple juice, which was perfect and refreshing. As the day went on, I began to like her more and more. I trusted her. She was competent and straightforward, but she was always kind. By noon, I had finished effacing and my cervix had finished coming forward, but I hadn’t dilated beyond 5 centimeters. I agreed to let the doctor break my water. I’ll never forget that sensation. It felt like I was urinating but had no control. The next contraction was harder. “Good,” I thought. “This is going to work. I’m going to get to meet my baby today.”

Dorothy and me

Dorothy made me walk the halls some more after my water had been broken. I had several contractions where I had to stop and lean against my husband before continuing our circuit around Labor and Delivery. When Dorothy checked me again at 3:00 PM, I was maybe 6 centimeters. “Are you ready to really get this going with some Pitocin,” she asked, “or do you want to continue doing what you’re doing?” I was ready to get going. She turned on the Pitocin. The next three hours are a dark cloud in my head. During natural labor, I could mentally prepare myself for the peak of each contraction and surrender to the waves of pain. Not so with Pitocin-induced labor. I remember saying, “There’s no time to prepare!” as they began. I asked once during the dark cloud of contractions for Dorothy’s cranberry-apple juice and she brought it to me. The light coming in the window blinded my eyes and I asked for the shades to be drawn. Eventually, I remember saying, “I cannot do this anymore.” Over, and over, and over again, the contractions seemed to pound against my ability to keep it together. I continued to try, to breathe, to will my legs to relax with each wave, but I was weary. I had been laboring for two days. 

Getting ready to meet our baby

When Dorothy checked me at 5:30 PM, I had only progressed to 7.5 centimeters. That was the end of my control. I cried. I knew the hardest part of labor was still to come, but I couldn’t handle it. I continued to say, “I cannot do this anymore.” Finally, Dorothy said, “Ok. I need you to tell me what you mean by that. Do you want us to do something about the pain? We can do that if you really want it, but you have to be the one to make this decision.” After a few more contractions, I asked for an epidural. Dorothy told me that it would take thirty minutes before I really felt better, but it began to work immediately. Anesthesia gave me the epidural at 6:00 PM. They situated me in bed, and Dorothy asked me if I had felt the contraction I just had. I hadn’t. The fog lifted and I slept.

Pushing

Shift change at 7:00 brought Maggie to us. Dorothy introduced her and spoke well of us. She allowed us to take her picture with me before she left. Maggie was also wonderful. She was calm and reassuring. When she came to check me at 10:00 PM, she said, “You’re complete. That means I’m going to get your room ready for delivery, and we’ll work on pushing. When the baby crowns, we’ll call the doctor.”

Immediately after birth

It was time. I cried. I smiled at my husband. We were going to meet our baby. Maggie rolled me to my back and helped me to get my legs into the stirrups. My mother and I locked eyes and I giggled internally. I had been adamant that I would not be delivering my baby with my legs in stirrups, but there I was, and I didn’t care. By 10:20, Maggie began walking me through the process of pushing with an epidural. She was an excellent, patient teacher. It was a good thing, too, because I pushed for three hours. Emma, the nurse I had seen on Monday night in triage, had requested to be the second nurse for my delivery. As pushing got more difficult, Maggie, Emma, my mother, and my husband cheered me on. 

Pure bliss

Finally, Dr. Hutchinson arrived. I had never met him before, but he was great. He was calm and focused. When he thought I needed an episiotomy, he explained the reason well. I felt like I could trust him, so I consented. Following the episiotomy, I pushed twice more, and her head was born. I heard her begin to cry. I began to cry. Before I knew it, Jim was announcing that we had a baby girl by telling me that Susan Elizabeth had arrived at 1:11 AM on Thursday, January 10, 2019. She was on my chest for a moment while Jim cut the cord. We knew that she had passed meconium during pushing, so NICU nurses were waiting in the room to suction her. They worked quickly, and nine minutes after she was born, I had her with me for over an hour. I admired her hair – she had lots of it. I marveled at her strength – she could lift her head and shoulders off of my chest. I touched her and smelled her. I talked to her and showed her to my husband. We loved her. She nursed for the first time. When I was ready, Maggie took her to weigh and measure her. She weighed 7 pounds 3.5 ounces, and was 19.25 inches long.

Susan Elizabeth

Susan was born with increased risk for jaundice. All babies are at some risk, as their bodies must immediately begin to clear bilirubin, a waste product formed from red blood cell breakdown, and which the mother’s body had cleared for them while they were in utero. Susan’s blood type is A⁺ and mine is O⁺. Because of that mismatch, the lab ran a Coombs test to determine whether our blood had mixed at birth. It had, so some of the antibodies from my blood were attached to her red blood cells, enhancing red blood cell breakdown. In the hospital, her bilirubin levels were monitored closely and were always somewhat high, but not high enough for phototherapy. Bilirubin is cleared in feces, so I was encouraged to feed Susan often so that she would be able to clear as much bilirubin as possible. On Friday, we were discharged from the hospital, as long as we agreed to take her into the clinic on Saturday to have her bilirubin checked one more time. If it had not begun to level off or decrease, she would need to be readmitted to the hospital. I nursed her every two hours and prayed more often. Saturday morning, her bilirubin levels had dropped. We headed home to stay.

Daddy and Susan

Before Susan was born, I was determined to have a natural birth. No interventions. No pain meds. Beautiful, natural childbirth. Nothing about her birth was what I expected. I did not expect to labor for 59 hours. I did not expect to labor with Pitocin. I was determined not to get an epidural. I was adamant about not delivering in stirrups and about not receiving an episiotomy. I was prepared, well prepared really, to manage contractions and birth naturally. Then, as always when I’m holding stubbornly to an ideal, I was humbled. I have no regrets. None. I don’t regret any of the interventions I agreed to. I really think they were the best decisions to be made at the time. My overwhelming emotion is gratitude. Gratitude for Emma, Dorothy, and Maggie. 

Home as a family

Gratitude for God’s gentle chastisement of my pride as each of my ideals were broken down. Gratitude for medical doctors who were willing to work with my ideals but were not afraid to tell me when they thought something else was best. Gratitude for my mother and husband who were unendingly patient and kind during my long labor. Gratitude for my strong, healthy, beautiful daughter. Our story is, in my mind, a beautiful one. All stories that contain difficulty have the potential for beauty if we’ll only look for it.