Brigitte Bardot said it well when she said, "I am not finding pregnancy much of a joy. I am afraid of childbirth, but I am afraid I can't find a way of avoiding it." There are a lot of fears that come with childbirth. One of the biggest fears that faces many women is the amount of pain during labor and delivery and whether or not to get pain management - either in the form of narcotics, an epidural, or simple pain coping techniques.
During one of our childbirth classes, my husband and I were asked to separately answer a simple question about our idea of how to manage pain during labor and delivery. We were given a piece of paper which had a scale of 1 - 10: 1 being "I want no pain at all. Give me the epidural as soon as I enter the hospital" and10 being "Under no circumstances do I want any type of pain medication." For me, I chose # 3, "I'll go a little bit with pain, but I want an epidural!" and my husband answered # 7, "I'll consider pain medication as a last resort." Obviously this led to some discussion about the topic - with me primarily saying that, unless he wanted to grow a uterus and deliver this baby, I was going to be the only person involved in making this decision!
After much discussion and some answers from our childbirth class instructor and my OB, I learned a lot about pain coping during labor and delivery. I actually decided to change my answer to a 5 - "I have no feelings one way or the other. We'll see how it goes!" And, while I recognize that pain management is a VERY personal decision, here's what I did to manage my pain:
My water broke at home and contractions began shortly after - this is a rare situation since many women's water doesn't break until after contractions begin and sometimes not until broken by a medical professional. By the time I arrived in labor and delivery, I was in pain. I was having terrible back labor and, before the nurses could even take my vitals, I was requesting to get into the tub. This was one coping technique that was highly recommended during our classes. The tub helped a lot. I turned the jets on so that they hit my back and remained here as long as the nurses would allow it (about 15 minutes).
After the tub, I decided to walk...A LOT. I was told that walking would help with the pain management as well as speed up the progress of contractions. And, while it did help with the pain, it did not speed up my labor. If choosing to walk, I would recommend not doing it by yourself as the contractions can be quite overwhelming. There were times I had to stop and hold onto my husband just to stay standing.
I also tried the birth ball. This was very relaxing as I was able to lean forward and help Baby get into an anterior position (posterior is what was causing my back labor). When I was tired of using the birth ball, I would alternate to leaning against the bed. The hospital beds are an amazing tool. They can be lifted high enough so that you can put your head on the bed without bending over (since I'm 6 feet tall, I found this wonderful!).
As time progressed and certain natural pain coping techniques either got boring or stopped working, I began to consider an epidural. I knew that I did not want any narcotics - even though they can help take the edge off. I had learned that the narcotics enter my blood stream and then, in turn, enter my Baby's blood stream. For me, I didn't want this.
I continued to try more natural techniques: squatting, laying on my side, having my husband massage my lower back - head - shoulders, listening to music, watching TV, breathing (sounds obvious, but it's not when you're in pain), and focusing on baby names (we still hadn't chosen any).
After sixteen hours of labor and many, many more hours of no sleep, I was exhausted and Pitocin had already been started. The Pitocin really cranked up the volume on the contractions. I thought that I had been in pain before, but now I could hardly breathe during contractions and couldn't focus on anything except the cringing pain in my abdomen. So, I decided it was time for the epidural.
I was very nervous about receiving an epidural. I do not like needles to begin with, but a needle into my spine and then a catheter going into my spine?! However, the epidural was the best thing I did for myself. After receiving the epidural, I had about fifteen minutes before it was really kicked in. The pain of the contractions subsided and I was able to breathe again. I was also able to relax and attempt to get sleep - which sped up my labor.
After a couple of hours with the epidural, it began to wear off. I was feeling the contractions with the fiercest force I've ever felt. I called the nurse and the anesthesiologist was able to come and adjust the levels. Fifteen more minutes and I was back to pain free.
For my next child, I might consider doing things naturally longer, but again...we'll see how it goes.
Products you might like:
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times; it was pregnancy...
We often think of pregnancy the way that we see it in the movies: happy, cheerful, and finished within two hours. But, the reality is - just as Dickens wrote - that pregnancy is both the best and worst of times. Pregnancy is filled with excitement, curiosity, worries, fears, weight gain, and more.
I'll never forget the second that I knew I was pregnant. It was not due to a positive pregnancy test...that came later. It was due to my becoming absolutely furious with my husband because of some trivial thing that I cannot recollect. My hormones were raging, and I knew that something was different. So, I took the test, found out my suspicions were indeed correct, and immediately was ecstatic - did I mention those hormones???
My husband and I decided to wait to tell people that we were expecting. That's easier said than done. I managed to do this (after only telling a few people that I knew wouldn't let the secret slip), but it became harder and harder as the morning sickness sank in. I had to come up with excuses for constantly having to go to the bathroom ("I'm just not feeling very good right now", "I think something upset my stomach", "I must be coming down with something", etc. etc.). I had to wear baggier clothes (not only to hide my ever-expanding midsection, but also because none of my regular clothes fit). And, I had to try not to draw attention to my ever-expanding top section (of which, normally being a B cup, was quite impressive to me).
Eventually the time came when we decided to tell people. With this, I began to receive advice. Now, it's not that the advice was necessarily good or bad, but when it's your first time being pregnant and you receive an overabundance of advice (on top of hormones), it can be overwhelming. Worries and fears began to set in. Was I actually ready to be a mom? Was I doing the right things, eating the right foods, and not allowing myself to be around influences that could harm my baby? Did we have enough money to start a family? Were we too old? Were we not old enough? Which room would be Baby's? What things would I need for Baby? The questions came and came and came.
Thankfully, in between all of these questions, worries and fears came the doctor's visits. Here, every single visit, my doctor would bring in the little device that would be placed on my belly, and I was able to listen to Baby's heart beat. Now, I must admit that - at my nine week appointment - I had a "Rachel" moment and didn't recognize the heartbeat until the doctor described it, but this sound constantly eased my worries and fears. Every time I went back to the doctor, I knew that Baby was growing and his or her (we didn't find out the gender) heart was still beating.
But, then I'd leave the doctor's office and go back to the real world of people saying stupid things, hormones raging, crying, anger, etc. etc. My husband would constantly remind me to let things roll off of me, but that's easier said than done when you don't feel like yourself...and you technically aren't completely yourself since there's another self growing inside you.
As pregnancy continued, time began to slow, but we continued to prepare. With each item we checked off our to-do list, it seemed like ten more items were added. But, we trudged on or, in my case, waddled on.
The home stretch was approaching. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was seeing my doctor on a weekly basis. I was feeling contractions. I was timing contractions. Contractions reached the 5-1-1 that's discussed in the child prep classes. I called the doctor. He said it was too early and to go to the hospital. So, I went and my labor was stopped. I left...still pregnant.
I waited and waited and waited...until, more contractions, then spotting (from my childbirth class this was a definite sign to call the doc). He told me to go to the hospital. I went. I waited and waited and waited. My contractions were right on top of each other, but I wasn't progressing. It was still a little early, so no inducing. Finally, I went home...still pregnant.
I gardened; I cleaned; I crawled up and down the stairs on my knees. I ate fresh pineapple, eggplant Parmesan, and spicy Mexican food. I tried everything there was to kick start the labor. I was miserable. Contractions came and went. I wasn't sleeping. I was furious. I squatted. I walked. I scrubbed floors, the toilets, the shower, and more. This baby was never coming out.
Then, I stood up. I felt something odd. Did my water break? Nah. It couldn't be. I called the doctor. He told me to come to his office. I knew this wasn't for real, so I took a shower, called a friend to take me, packed my bag (I recommend packing sooner), fed the dogs, and waited. My friend came. I sat in her car. The contractions came...and came...and came. I arrived at the doctor's office. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't wait. He saw me. He told me it's time. So, I called my husband and told him to leave work.
I arrived at labor and deliver. I was having contractions right on top of each other. This baby was coming. I waited...and waited...and waited. Fourteen hours later, no baby. No epidural. No food. No patience.
The doctor came. I was checked. There was progress, but not enough. I was given Pitocin. The contractions came...and Came...and CAME! Two hours later...no baby...GET ME AN EPIDURAL! Then, calm. Ahhhh...the relief. But, still no baby.
I tried to sleep. I felt nothing. I was singing songs of praise to my anesthesiologist. Four hours later, the nurse came. She checked me. There was Baby! The doctor was called. The husband was awoken. The room was prepared. Excitement came. The doctor came. Nausea came.
I pushed...and pushed. Baby arrived! There was crying. Nurses were busy. The doctor was busy. My husband announced, "It's a girl!" No more waiting. No more fears. No more worries. Adrenaline was pumping through me. I held my baby. I was happy.
And, pregnancy was over.
I'll never forget the second that I knew I was pregnant. It was not due to a positive pregnancy test...that came later. It was due to my becoming absolutely furious with my husband because of some trivial thing that I cannot recollect. My hormones were raging, and I knew that something was different. So, I took the test, found out my suspicions were indeed correct, and immediately was ecstatic - did I mention those hormones???
My husband and I decided to wait to tell people that we were expecting. That's easier said than done. I managed to do this (after only telling a few people that I knew wouldn't let the secret slip), but it became harder and harder as the morning sickness sank in. I had to come up with excuses for constantly having to go to the bathroom ("I'm just not feeling very good right now", "I think something upset my stomach", "I must be coming down with something", etc. etc.). I had to wear baggier clothes (not only to hide my ever-expanding midsection, but also because none of my regular clothes fit). And, I had to try not to draw attention to my ever-expanding top section (of which, normally being a B cup, was quite impressive to me).
Eventually the time came when we decided to tell people. With this, I began to receive advice. Now, it's not that the advice was necessarily good or bad, but when it's your first time being pregnant and you receive an overabundance of advice (on top of hormones), it can be overwhelming. Worries and fears began to set in. Was I actually ready to be a mom? Was I doing the right things, eating the right foods, and not allowing myself to be around influences that could harm my baby? Did we have enough money to start a family? Were we too old? Were we not old enough? Which room would be Baby's? What things would I need for Baby? The questions came and came and came.
Thankfully, in between all of these questions, worries and fears came the doctor's visits. Here, every single visit, my doctor would bring in the little device that would be placed on my belly, and I was able to listen to Baby's heart beat. Now, I must admit that - at my nine week appointment - I had a "Rachel" moment and didn't recognize the heartbeat until the doctor described it, but this sound constantly eased my worries and fears. Every time I went back to the doctor, I knew that Baby was growing and his or her (we didn't find out the gender) heart was still beating.
But, then I'd leave the doctor's office and go back to the real world of people saying stupid things, hormones raging, crying, anger, etc. etc. My husband would constantly remind me to let things roll off of me, but that's easier said than done when you don't feel like yourself...and you technically aren't completely yourself since there's another self growing inside you.
As pregnancy continued, time began to slow, but we continued to prepare. With each item we checked off our to-do list, it seemed like ten more items were added. But, we trudged on or, in my case, waddled on.
The home stretch was approaching. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was seeing my doctor on a weekly basis. I was feeling contractions. I was timing contractions. Contractions reached the 5-1-1 that's discussed in the child prep classes. I called the doctor. He said it was too early and to go to the hospital. So, I went and my labor was stopped. I left...still pregnant.
I waited and waited and waited...until, more contractions, then spotting (from my childbirth class this was a definite sign to call the doc). He told me to go to the hospital. I went. I waited and waited and waited. My contractions were right on top of each other, but I wasn't progressing. It was still a little early, so no inducing. Finally, I went home...still pregnant.
I gardened; I cleaned; I crawled up and down the stairs on my knees. I ate fresh pineapple, eggplant Parmesan, and spicy Mexican food. I tried everything there was to kick start the labor. I was miserable. Contractions came and went. I wasn't sleeping. I was furious. I squatted. I walked. I scrubbed floors, the toilets, the shower, and more. This baby was never coming out.
Then, I stood up. I felt something odd. Did my water break? Nah. It couldn't be. I called the doctor. He told me to come to his office. I knew this wasn't for real, so I took a shower, called a friend to take me, packed my bag (I recommend packing sooner), fed the dogs, and waited. My friend came. I sat in her car. The contractions came...and came...and came. I arrived at the doctor's office. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't wait. He saw me. He told me it's time. So, I called my husband and told him to leave work.
I arrived at labor and deliver. I was having contractions right on top of each other. This baby was coming. I waited...and waited...and waited. Fourteen hours later, no baby. No epidural. No food. No patience.
The doctor came. I was checked. There was progress, but not enough. I was given Pitocin. The contractions came...and Came...and CAME! Two hours later...no baby...GET ME AN EPIDURAL! Then, calm. Ahhhh...the relief. But, still no baby.
I tried to sleep. I felt nothing. I was singing songs of praise to my anesthesiologist. Four hours later, the nurse came. She checked me. There was Baby! The doctor was called. The husband was awoken. The room was prepared. Excitement came. The doctor came. Nausea came.
I pushed...and pushed. Baby arrived! There was crying. Nurses were busy. The doctor was busy. My husband announced, "It's a girl!" No more waiting. No more fears. No more worries. Adrenaline was pumping through me. I held my baby. I was happy.
And, pregnancy was over.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)