Hello old friends! We had another baby! We welcomed baby #3 in September 2022, and if I don’t type out the birth story now, I might forget even more details, so here we are. As the title of this post implies, the birth didn’t quite match the vision I had for us… but in the end, we’re both happy and healthy.
I found out I was pregnant on New Years Day 2022, which was the greatest way to kick off a new year. I decided I did not want to find out the baby’s gender until birth, and to my surprise, the curiosity did not get the better of me. We worked with the same midwife team at the same birth center where my 2 year old son was delivered, here in St. Louis, and the pregnancy was very textbook up until the very end.
At 37 weeks, I found out I was GBS positive. Which isn’t a big deal, but it meant that I had to make a somewhat stressful choice whether or not to have antibiotics administered during labor. I agonized over this decision for weeks, because I wanted to go as natural as possible, as I did with my last two births. But I also didn’t want to put my newborn at risk for a sepsis infection. So.
My daughter and my son were both born at 39 weeks, I figured baby #3 would follow the same pattern. But then my due date came and went. I did everything and anything suggested to induce labor naturally. None of it worked. My cervix was high, tight, and closed. Very unfavorable conditions, even for a membrane sweep. It probably wouldn’t have been so mentally exhausting to go past the due date, but after a handful of false labor starts, and it was just getting old.
For self-pitying mothers that arrive at their due date with no baby, the midwives will happily schedule an induction anytime between 40+1 and 42+0 (with the condition that everything checks out during a non-stress test and fluid level check). I was willing to go until the bitter end, because that’s how badly I wanted to deliver my baby naturally. Though it was an agonizing decision.
So there I was, at my first NST and fluid level check at 41+0, still no signs of labor, cervix was still high, tight, and very much closed. The NST was fine, but my fluid levels were incredibly low. And just like that, the decision was taken away from me, and I was asked to head over to L&D to get induced.
Unfortunately for me, an induction means 100% fetal monitoring, an IV pole, and delivery in the hospital. Completely the opposite of a dreamy, gorgeous, spa-like birthing center, where I’m as free as I want to be. Though at 41+0, I was so ready to give birth, I *almost* didn’t care.
Alex and I arrived back at the hospital after lunch on Wednesday, September 21st. We were given a few options to get labor started, and after a few more hours of fetal monitoring, and talking through pros and cons, we ended up choosing oxytocin over cervadil to get the party started.
*A good friend of mine is a doula, and when the possibility of induction became an actual reality, we spent a lot of time talking about options. Specifically how to still have a natural childbirth during an induction (I should really say an epidural-free birth, because there is nothing natural about an induction). I learned so much from my beautiful friend and I’m incredibly grateful for her wisdom. With oxytocin, I learned that it’s best to start out on the lowest dose possible, and only increase the level by 1 point every hour or two. Slow and steady!
So. There we were. In our L&D room, talking and laughing and waiting for team to get set-up. Meanwhile, the fetal monitor was showing I was contracting on my own, contractions were 4-6 minutes apart, though nothing painful.
At 5pm, my contractions were every 4 minutes and still nothing burgers. And so, the pitocin began, administered at level 1, which is where it stayed for 2 hours.
At 7pm, contractions were every 2-3 minutes and still manageable. We increased the pitcoin to level 2.
At 9pm, contractions were slightly stronger, though still totally manageable. Pitocin was increased to level 3.
I decided to get in the tub. Our lovely L&D nurse Claire, brought in a diffuser to help set the mood, which was an act of kindness I greatly appreciated — the hospital room was so sterile, so depressing, and quite the step down from the birthing center.
Once in the tub, Alex and I got into a great rhythm with each contraction as they were increasing in intensity, there is something so magical about water and labor! I remember feeling pretty good, despite the circumstances. I had tubes and wires everywhere, the belly monitor and the IV lines in my arm, which kept getting tangled / in the way. It definitely limited my mobility and was incredibly cumbersome, but at least I was in a room with a tub and was able to labor in it.
Once again, I was blown away with Alex’s birthing partner skills. We got into a really good pattern, that very much mirrored our last birth. Me in the tub, Alex moaning and humming along with me, matching my pitch, reminding me to breathe mid-wave, making sure I didn’t clench my jaw, fists, or shoulders. We were doing so well. I remember thinking; ‘things aren’t so bad, not ideal, but not so bad, we’re kind of killing it, but oh my god I’m aware of what’s happening, I’m no where close to labor land, and if that’s the case, I must have a looooOOoong way to go, and yikes these contractions are actually quite strong if this is where I’m at…’
We increased the pitocin to level 4, which is where it ended up staying until the end. In hindsight, I wish we had turned it off, and allow for natural hormones to set in. I felt my water break in the tub, and shortly afterwards I wanted to get out and change up positions, which might have been a mistake, because everything got really intense from here on out.
It was now 11pm, I remember this because my husband kept a close eye on the time, wondering if our baby would have a September 21st or September 22nd birthday, and debating which one would be better. But I knew we wouldn’t make it before midnight. Contractions were now very strong, getting through them was really challenging outside of the water. I was on hands and knees for a while, and not doing well.
Eventually, I hobbled back to the hospital bed. I have no idea what time it was, because at this point, I was finally in labor land. I was crying, the pain was unbearable and unrelenting, even in between contractions. I remember thinking about pitocin, and how it doesn’t cross the blood-brain barrier, which means less natural oxytocin is released in the brain — which acts as a natural pain relief, and a huge reason I was able to go epidural-free the last two times. It never occurred to me to ask for an epidural, I was too busy crying. Though, once full body shakes and nausea kicked in, I was quickly clued in that this was my transition period, I just needed to hang on for a bit longer. I left my body, and thought about my children’s laughter.
Contractions completely ceased. And midwife Kim asked multiple times if we should turn up the pitocin, I remember not being able to speak, nor give her a non-verbal answer. Alex became my advocate and told her no. Whether this means anything or not, with our daughter and son’s labor, my body stopped contracting for a brief period of time right before the tail end — which he expressed to the midwife and nurses as they urged us once more to crank up the pitocin.
Before long, I had the urge to push. We decided to push over the toilet, which was comfortable and working well, until it wasn’t. I couldn’t understand why the baby wasn’t crowning, yet I felt something in the birth canal… with a little flashlight, midwife Kim noticed a second surprise bag of waters bulging. She suggested rupturing it to make way for the baby. Somehow, to do this, we ended up back on the hospital bed. She used what can only be described as a knitting needle to rupture the bag of waters. It wasn’t pleasant. I was rolled onto my side to continue pushing, which for the record, absolutely sucked as a pushing position. However, Kim was right, the baby’s head came out very shortly afterwards.
Though, once the head was out, it was minutes before the next contraction came. Pushing in between contractions is fruitless, though to my great frustration, they did have me try. So our baby’s head was fully out, eyes closed, mewing, and turning it’s head, waiting ever so patiently for it’s body to join us earth-side. Alex said it was like looking at an Easter Island statue, and he gives a great impression, ask him next time you see him.
Anyway, pushing out the body wasn’t easy, and took several contractions. I felt like I was straining and pushing incredibly hard. Maybe it was the lack of gravity, the angle, the fact that our third baby was significantly bigger than the last two, or the oxytocin, but it was such a challenge pushing out the rest of our baby. Which actually upset me, because pushing is my favorite part of labor. Remind me for baby #4 to not push while side lying, absolutely terrible!
Alas, out came the body. I was convinced the entire pregnancy and labor that we were having a girl. So of course it was a boy. I laughed and cried, and we were beyond overjoyed. We named him Atticus Michael, and call him Atti or Agoo. He was born at 1:45am on Thursday, September 22nd, weighing 7 pounds, 0 ounces at birth and absolutely perfect.
Luckily, pushing out the after birth was incredibly easy, and I didn’t need stitches (3/3 times – win!). Something about his linebacker shoulders getting stuck for minutes on end must have helped with that…
Oh, and bonus, because of the induction / GBS+ / whatever, we were required to stay overnight in the hospital. Had I been able to deliver in the birth center, we would’ve been home by 8AM the morning of his birth. So again, not what I envisioned for the immediate recovery period, but the big kids got to meet their baby brother at the hospital, and there was something a bit magical about that.
At 3 months, Atticus gives the biggest and the best gummy smiles that light up his whole body. He’s already 16.5 pounds and wearing size 9 month clothing, I have never rotated through baby clothing this quickly. He’s huge, by far my biggest baby, and has more rolls than Bread Co. I’m absolutely honored to be his mother, and so blessed we get to raise him, he’s a dream baby.
Postpartum the third time around has been my favorite of the three experiences. It’s been magical watching all three kids together, the big kids love him so much, and he equally adores them. I also believe going from two to three kids has been a breeze compared to going from one to two kids.
I understand how incredibly blessed I am, my baby and I are healthy, happy, and that’s all that really matters. However, I can absolutely hold that in my heart, and also be disappointed with the birthing experience, and feel betrayed by my own body for failing to go into spontaneous labor. Those feelings are not mutually exclusive. But maybe a beautiful postpartum period beats having a beautiful birth?