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Edrik Lee Weber's Birth

I spent much of my youth around animals, and had witnessed the birth of one colt, three litters of puppies and countless kittens. Why birth would be any more complicated for humans was completely beyond me. When I found out I was pregnant, there was no question that I would be having my baby without medical interference.

All of my co-workers thought I was insane. They would ask what vitamins I was taking, what tests I had had, if the ultrasound had revealed the sex of my baby. Upon learning that I had not taken any medicines, tests, or ultrasounds I was treated as though I were doing my baby harm. Surely if there were a neo-natal social services program, my co-workers would have called. After awhile I got tired of the stigma. Since I was going to be a stay-at-home mother after the baby anyhow, I quit my management position and found another job stocking shelves overnight at a department store. I did not appear to be pregnant, so I was treated like any other employee. I kept my happy news to myself.

At 8.5 months I gave my 2 weeks notice. My boss was floored at the news that I was expecting. I actually had to pull my shirt tight around my belly so he could see the kicking and squirming underneath. Of course, by amazing coincidence, that night I was transferred from stocking shelves to shrink-wrapping opened packages on a stool.

Two weeks went by and the baby didn’t appear right on schedule. Apparently, I forgot to swallow a calendar. This caused me no distress. I told my boss I could continue doing his menial jobs until an undisclosed date. And this is when the Question began bouncing off the walls: "When are you going to be induced?" Never has a single well-intended question infuriated me so much. I told everyone, in increasingly annoyed words, that there was no way I was going to be induced, thank you very much. Once again, all my co-workers were looking at me as if I were the most evil mother-to-be in the world. One week after my due date, I plead back pain and left work early. I never bothered going back.

Two more weeks passed with increasing back pain but nothing else. I had been dilated slightly for several weeks and the head was so well engaged that I bumped into it each time I wiped. I waddled around like a penguin for awhile, but finally got tired of trying and spent all my time on the computer.

One morning three weeks past my due date I woke up at 4:00 am for one of my 2 dozen nightly trips to the bathroom. I went and came back to bed and then realized with shame that I was wetting myself. Went back to the bathroom, put on a pad and went back to bed. I had spent the last 6 weeks eagerly trying to convince myself that anything and everything was a sign of impending labor, but ironically I failed to recognize that I was actually losing my mucous plug. Had I been more awake I’m sure that wouldn’t have been the case.

I went back to bed and woke up 45 minutes later to head for the bathroom. This time there was no doubt, Today was The Day. I was losing my mucous plug very quickly. Eric was still asleep and I wanted to have this time to myself, so I didn’t wake him. Since I felt constantly dirty I decided to sit in the tub. I drew a nice hot bath, found some light reading (Calvin and Hobbes comic books to be exact) and settled back in the tub.

I sat in that tub for about two hours. Contractions had started, and I was enjoying the powerful process that was taking over my body. Eventually as the contractions grew stronger and more frequent I put my books down and lay down in the shallow water with my head on the bath pillow. I dozed between contractions and practiced my own biofeedback methods through contractions. I can honestly say that I don’t remember any pain, just power.

Then all of a sudden, transition. I recognized it as transition although I had never had a baby, because suddenly I was feeling very uncertain and nervous. I hadn’t expected anything like this for quite awhile. That is when I realized I had lost all track of time. I had been dozing for hours. There were no windows in the bathroom and I had no clock. I wrapped up in a towel and went into the bedroom. It was 11:20am. I had been in the bathtub for more than five hours.

I hadn’t spoken to Eric yet but he obviously knew what was going on. As I entered the room he was holding the phone and his fingers were hovering over the buttons. I nodded for him to call the midwife.

This is where I admit I made a mistake. I should have called earlier. I described the contractions and told her that I could feel the sac with my fingers when I squatted, bulging against my perineum. She told me that she didn’t think she would make it. We were to meet her at the hospital.

Well, we headed for the hospital, which is 3 highway miles away, and arrived at 11:55. I walked into the emergency room and waited as patiently as a laboring woman can for my turn to check in. You see, the receptionist was having a nice chat with the security guard. I then told her I was in labor, at which point she handed me some forms to fill out. I tried to explain that I didn’t think I had time for the forms, but upon hearing that she determined that I was being a nuisance and began rolling her eyes at my insistence that I be taken seriously. She told me to have a seat and wait for my turn to be worked up by the nurse. I instead ran for the bathroom.

I made four or five trips to the bathroom while waiting for someone to get around to me, all in the space of about four minutes. I felt as though I had to urinate constantly. After trip #4 or 5 one nurse finally asked me about this need to pee…then, seeing that time was short, she decided to…..take my blood pressure. It was as she was strapping the cuff onto my arm that my water broke, and I began leaking fluid on her padded chair. She gave me an exasperated look then directed me to a wheelchair to be carted off to L&D.

Two elevators and countless hallways later I was deposited into a room. A new nurse came in to take my history. I told her that a midwife was on the way that knew my history and birth preferences she informed me that we could not proceed without a history. Oh really? Tell that to my uterus. A team of L&D nurses started prepping me. They gave me a gown and directed me to the bathroom, then told me to hop on the table when I was done. I went to the bathroom, but when I came out nobody but Eric was in the room. I tried to remain calm but at this point, I could not help but bear down with contractions. I told Eric to go get me a doctor.

Before he could reach the door, I was hit with a very large contraction that I started with a grunt and ended with a howl. It had finally dawned on me that howling was the only way I was going to get any attention.

Sure enough, I was finally examined. And the verdict on my very first internal (if you can call bulging baby head an internal) was "it’s baby time." Everyone sprung into action. I was strapped to the table on my back, was asked about my circumcision choices in case of a boy, asked about allergies, blood type, complications. Finally, lo and behold, a doctor. She introduced herself and I made two requests of her: Don’t cut me, and don’t cut the cord until the baby is breathing. She gave me an "I’m the doctor" speech and assumed her position.

The second contraction hit. This time I was given some real sound medical advice: Push. Well, I pushed, but apparently the doctor was unimpressed with my efforts. She told me that if the baby’s head wasn’t born with the next push she’s be giving me an episiotomy. Apparently her patience runs two minutes long, because this is about how long she had been in the room.

The third contraction hit. I received more sound medical advice: Breathe. The nurse who was chanting this mantra over and over finally got on my last nerve, so I opened my mouth real wide, sucked in a lot of air, and bellowed, "I AM BREATHING!!!". She turned away muttering at how impossible I was being. I got back to pushing.

Unfortunately baby wasn’t born with my third push, so at some point between push 3 and 4 I received the episiotomy I specifically requested not to have. I never felt it and didn’t know about it until later. I assume the doctor was cutting me while threatening me once again. She said I had one more push before she wrapped forceps around my baby’s head and started yanking.

My fourth contraction hit, and I pushed with everything in me. This time, my baby’s head was thankfully born. Not wanting to waste any more time on me, they pulled the rest of the baby out and, before the feet had cleared the birth canal they clamped the cord. To this day I wonder if the doctor clamped it just to spite me. At any rate, my baby hadn’t had a chance to learn how to breathe, so they took him to a table and began slapping him around absent-mindedly. I held out my arms for him, but at this point a nurse was installing a hand IV into me. No sooner was it in than I was drugged slightly. The doctor had decided not to wait for the placenta, she was going to go fishing. While she was removing the afterbirth she gave me a speech on the evils of natural childbirth, of which I only vaguely remember because I was both drugged and begging for someone to let me hold my baby. It was 12:43…I had been at the hospital 48 minutes.

It was at this point, however, that I did get to see the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. Eric was the first one to hold our son. All through my pregnancy, the baby had remained a rather abstract concept for Eric. I never looked pregnant, we never had ultrasound pictures or a sex to assign to the baby. It was as he held his son for the first time that my whole nine months of excitement hit him all at once. His knees buckled under the staggering realization that he had just become a daddy.

Well, I was stitched up (I felt every stitch although the doctor stitching me insisted that it wasn’t possible), then put in a wheelchair to be transported to a room. I passed out in the wheelchair due to the blood loss from the episiotomy. I woke up later in the hospital bed. I had not held my son yet. I stayed in the hospital for two days, during which the extent of my medical treatment was two units of blood transfused. Edrik was a perfectly healthy baby despite my prenatal "negligence". He weighed 7 pounds 3 ounces and was 21 inches long.

All in all I had a beautiful labor, and I feel that had I not gone to the hospital I would have been very happy with the whole birth. Those last few minutes felt like a violation of nature. I had two complications, both precipitated by medical intervention: my blood loss due to the episiotomy, and Edrik’s resuscitation due to being cut off from his oxygen supply before learning how to breathe. If there’s a next time, it will be at home – even if I have to catch the baby myself.

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