First baby & labor
My first pregnancy and labor were a breeze. I had an easy pregnancy, I was induced by choice around 39 weeks, given the epidural before they started the pitocin, and 4 hours later my son was born. My doctor kept saying he couldn’t believe how smooth everything went. My recovery was a breeze, too. I kept telling my husband there was no way I’d be that lucky in the future. Unfortunately, I was right.
Second pregnancy & labor
I always wanted kids close in age, so we aimed for an 18 month age gap, and I got pregnant with our second baby when our first son was 9 months old. My pregnancy was almost exactly the same- limited symptoms, no complications, healthy baby, nothing to be concerned about. At my 35 week appointment, my doctor told me everything looked perfect and we’d schedule my induction at my next appointment (which I requested since I had a pretty quick labor the time before). We never even made it to my next appointment. The very next morning, I woke up and went to the bathroom, and my water broke. I remember just standing there having absolutely no idea how to react. I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared. I was 35 weeks. We hadn’t even installed the second car seat yet. I told my husband and he immediately ran and got our toddler ready and called a friend of ours to let them know we’d be dropping him off. I just stood there in panic. I called the hospital and let them know we’d be coming in, and right after I got off the phone I just started crying. None of this was supposed to be happening.
When we got to the hospital, my husband ran back home to pack a bag and install the carseat. The triage nurse determined I was definitely in preterm labor and was dilated 5cm, but thankfully my son was doing fine. They gave me a steroid shot and the doctor said they weren’t going to administer pitocin because they wanted to keep baby in there was long as they could, at least until I got the second steroid shot. All of this was around 8am.
By 12pm my husband got back to the hospital, and not much had changed. I was having contractions, but they were so mild I couldn’t even feel them and they were pretty inconsistent. I had NO interest in an unmedicated birth, but I didn’t want to get the epidural yet if I wasn’t in any pain because I didn’t know how long I’d end up being there. I didn’t want to be strapped down to the bed for potentially 30 hours (in hindsight, that was a mistake).
Around 5pm I was video chatting my sister (who had picked up our older son from our friends house and was watching him at our house) when I felt a small contraction. I got off video chat with her at 5:15pm and went to the bathroom, still having very minor contractions that weren’t at all painful. When I stood up, I had a contraction so painful I had to sit down on the floor. I went out and told the nurse I’d like to get the epidural started because I was starting to feel some pain. She called the anesthesiologist and let me know he’d be there in 20 minutes. Cool, I could wait 20 minutes, right?
Things escalated way too quickly. Within 10 minutes I was in so much pain I was sobbing. I only had about 10 second breaks in between contractions, and I can honestly say that I wished I would pass out so it would just stop. At that point, the room had filled with nurses, the pediatric nurse, and the doctor. I remember the doctor taking one look at me and saying “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think this epidural is going to happen”. Not even 5 minutes later, after the most excruciating pain I had ever felt that genuinely made me think “I hope I die”, my son was born. It all felt chaotic and frankly unreal. So many people were there, all of them yelling (they were all very sweet and being encouraging, but frankly, having someone yelling encouragement to me when I was about to pass out from pain wasn’t helpful). I felt so out of control. To give you an idea of how quick it was, I was video chatting my sister at 5:15pm; he was born at 5:49pm. When he was born, he was this terrifying dark purple color, so they immediately grabbed him and started working on him. I couldn’t pay much attention because I was still in so much pain. They were having trouble getting his oxygen levels up, so they had to take him to the nursery to work on him. They brought him over so I could give him a kiss, and then whisked him away.
NICU stay
For 3 hours I wasn’t able to see my son. They told me that if they couldn’t get his oxygen levels up, they’d have to transfer him to another hospital across the state for a NICU stay, since they didn’t have a NICU at the hospital I was at. Finally, I was able to go back and see him. He was hooked up to oxygen and wires and just looked so helpless. I just cried and stroked his little foot, because that was all I could do. I couldn’t hold him, couldn’t kiss him, and I was crying too much to talk. After a while, I had to go back to my room for something (I forget why, bloodwork maybe?), and while I was there, the doctor came to inform me that they would have to transfer him to the other hospital- but I couldn’t go with him as a patient. They didn’t have any open beds at the other hospital, so they couldn’t transfer me. I could have been discharged after 6 hours, but I chose not to, because I really didn’t feel comfortable not being monitored so soon after birth. Now, I’m kicking myself for that. I should’ve gotten discharged immediately and gone with him. I ended up being fine so really there was no reason for me to have stayed at the hospital as a patient, but at the time I didn’t know that. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess. I still feel so guilty that my baby spent the first night of his life 30 miles away from me, attached to wires, surrounded by strangers. I got zero sleep that night imagining it.
The next morning, they had a bed open up, so that afternoon I was transferred to the hospital my son was at. I finally got to hold my baby for the first time nearly 24 hours after he was born. My heart broke. I was positive he would have no idea who I was or thought I had abandoned him. I hated myself for not going with him and staying with him all night. But the second they placed him in my arms, my sweet, crying, inconsolable baby calmed immediately. That took a huge weight off my shoulders.
He was in the NICU for a full week. Even after he got off oxygen, he still had trouble regulating his blood sugar, temperature, and weight gain. I was still in tons of pain; my physical recovery was MUCH harder this time around than the first time. My husband and I split our time with our toddler and our newborn, switching on and off to go see him. My heart broke when my toddlers sad eyes would watch me leave everyday and it broke again when I’d put my baby back down in a hospital bassinet and kiss him goodbye for the night.
For a while I struggled with guilt for describing this experience as traumatic. I’d think, “some moms purposely have unmedicated labors, so I shouldn’t label mine as traumatic” “some moms have babies in the NICU for WAY longer” “other babies are born much earlier than 5 weeks”, etc. I understand now (thanks to this blog) that my experience was traumatic because it was traumatic for ME. Just because someone else had it worse or because they wouldn’t view my experience as traumatic doesn’t mean it wasn’t.
I’m thankful that my son is home, almost 4 months old, and is thriving. He’s gaining weight like crazy, his smile lights up the room, and he is meeting all of his milestones. I’m thankful for the doctors and nurses who respected me and were so kind to me; I’m thankful for the NICU nurses who took care of my son; I’m thankful for the friends and family who watched our older son, made us meals, and prayed for us. I’m most thankful for my husband, who I wouldn’t have been able to make it without. My heart still breaks and I’m filled with anxiety and fear when I think about the whole experience, but I’m finally beginning to work towards processing it and healing from it.
About the author:
Hi! My name is Rachel and I’m currently a stay-at-home mom to my two sweet boys. My amazing husband and I have been married for 3 years now. I have a Masters in child development (which I use on my kids, ha) and I love using my skills to help my boys thrive!
