The hubs and I had the pleasure of getting a little FaceTime with some of our best friends recently. They are 2 months into parenthood. And their little Mr. seriously looks as sweet as sugar. They delivered mr. R at 40+ weeks gestation and it sounds like it was a doooooozy of a laboring experience. Contractions — like hard ones, not fake ones — for 30+ hours, never dilating past 0 until 30+ hours, barfing, tears, and tears {two different words}… I mean, getting little mister R into the world was no walk in the park. At least not any park I’d want to walk in. Or any walk I’d ever want to go on. Several times as we talked, she said, I mean… no one tells you… And I told her, I am going to write about this. Because while I believe I’ve posted before about labor and delivery, I think it’s time to revisit the subject. There’s been far too little use of the words cervix and placenta around these parts lately so let’s just get this party started.
So let’s have a little real talk today, okay friends? A big ol’ Baby on the Brehm book of thoughts on what no one really so much talks about with labor, delivery, and the “after” business… Come on, ride the train!
1. The contractions you have will not feel like intervals on an elliptical machine.
I think once you have a bun in the oven, it is natural to really start to wonder what contractions will feel like. You tell yourself that you have been in pain before and question just how much something could truly hurt. You tell yourself, “Self, this is what labor will be like,” but really, you have no earthly idea how much convincing it might take to evacuate the Occupy Uterus member you’ve been schlepping around for months on end. I, for one, lived in a la la land where I believed that labor was just like interval training on the elliptical… yes. The cardio machine at the gym. I thought that basically, it would be hard for a few minutes and then, in the valleys I get back to reading my US Weekly. A vacation, of sorts. I had in my mind that it would be hard as balls for a few minutes and then I could just sit back, relax, nurse a cocktail, and eat cheezy poofs until the next wave hit. This is a lie. Read that sentence again. If you didn’t read it again, it said “This is a lie”. It is not like an elliptical. When you are in the thick of it, or rather the thin of it — like, when you are stretching wide and thinnin’ out {and we’re not talkin’ Sweatin’ to the Oldies Richard Simmons stretchin’}, it’s more like a wave that knocks you over in the ocean. And then you get back up. Another wave comes. And before you can come up for air, another wave comes and knocks you again. And then the next. And the next. And pretty soon, you’re just stuck under water, hoping for some hot lifeguard your labor partner or doc or midwife or doula to tell you that you that you are as expansive as the Grand Canyon and it’s go time. It’s called labor for a reason. And that reason is because it is insanely intense work.
2. Epidurals are freaking amazing but sometimes… they don’t work.
So you’re thinking you want an epidural, eh? You think you will go into labor, get that epidural, and sit there and talk with your L&D nurse until the baby sticks his or her arm out and waves the doctor over for assistance? Well, in my limited experience, when epidurals work as intended, they are pretty much the cat’s pajamas. Like really beautiful, perfect, crafted-by-the-hands-of-tiny-baby-cherubs-in-diapers-with-harps pajamas. But when they don’t — womp womp — sad trombone. Because in all honesty… some people do not respond to epidurals. Some people do not get them in time. Some people randomly shake like they just took part in the Polar Bear Plunge {yours truly}. And others wear off just in time to fall into the burning ring of fire. So yes… epidurals can make you blissfully happy to feel completely numb and not be able to move your dead weight legs but don’t put all your eggs in that basket… your eggs are tired anyway, they had to do that whole making a human thing.
3. Pooping is the least of your concerns.
I remember being terrified that I would poop during labor. Why I was terrified about that I now will never know. Because that is the least of the shit {literally. there is no other better word there.} that you need to worry about. There’s vomit. There’s goo. There’s the BABY that squeezes out of you like sausage from its casing. There’s a placenta you have to deliver post-baby {didja know that? That they take the baby. They empty out your uterus. They retrieve the placenta and pass it around for show and tell. And then they stitch you up like you’re taking part in an old school quilting bee}. And if or when you do poop, they will whisk it away into the huge garbage bag of schmootz that floods out during the festivities. Out of all the schmootz, I think I’d prefer the poo. It’s the one thing that is just doing what it always does — coming out your bum. How strange can that be?
4. The actual birth piece is a production.
Having three high-risk pregnancies, I was always amazed by one consistent happening. And that was the production that occurs the minute they say it’s show time. I’m not sure if my situations were standard but jee.za.loo, the room went from zero to sixty in 5.2. Until that point, they allow you to chill with your birthing coach, spouse, friend, nurse, whomever. But once the delivery bell is rung, it’s like your vagina is being prepped to walk the runway at New York Fashion Week. All those sleek cupboards in your room — those house lights, instruments, balloon animal supplies. The one or two people you originally had in your room turns into a full-on soiree complete with your doctor and the nursery staff, L&D nurses, NICU staff, waiters passing hors d’oeuvres, court reporters, the DJ, and the people who bought tickets for the 9 o’clock showing off the guy at the front door. I am fairly certain that with our first and second births, I was spread eagle in front of a team of no less than 15 people including residents, nurses, midwife, husband, other nurses, and the partridge in the pear tree. And with the third, a 32-weeker c-section, I think they popped popcorn and invited the whole hospital in for the party. In fact, I am pretty sure that by the time I was discharged from the hospital, every single person in West Omaha had seen my bits, pushed on my belly, and seen milk being extracted from the boobs. So if you’re birthing at the hospital, just know, you’re not in it alone. And if there’s anything outside of the uzh, you may be the top showing of the day.
5. You may end up being everything you didn’t want to be during labor.
I was the “I’m sorry” girl during my first labor. Apparently, every time I’d get anywhere near a complain or cry, I would follow it up with a very genuine, “I’m so sorry”. I have no earthly idea why I was apologizing — I was the one being slowly opened like the jaws of life by the human I’d been harboring for eight months — but I was sorry. With my second, I was the singer and swoosher. I felt very calm in that laboring process and would rock my legs back and forth and hum every time I had a contraction. And with the third, I think I made a lot of jokes {I’m Chandler Bing. I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable}. Some women find themselves crying a lot. Some are angry. Others very grounded. But regardless of what you become, just know that no one judges you for that… except the nurses, your husband, and your doctor. And those people filming your reality series. Just kidding. But not really.
6. You may tear in a million different ways.
Never have I ever heard of someone saying, “I got to 14 and they said I was complete”. No no… TEN. Ten is the number of centimeters they say the Great Divide stretches to in order to achieve the grand reveal. Soooo… your business has to bear the brunt of the work. And that work happens through tearing. I have friends who are now the owners of Couture cooters {That is the only time I will use that word. I promise.} after very unfortunate tearing. And others who practically had to get Humpty Dumptied in order to make things work right again. It’s just the cost of doing business. I know. It’s terrible to think about. But it’s the truth. And if you can’t handle the truth, stop reading now. Or maybe you should have stopped after 1. And if you have a c-section instead of a vaginal birth, the “tearing” is a completely different story, and gives totally new meaning to AbRipperX.
7. No one cares about you after the babe is born.
For nine months, or however long it is you carry your peanut, it’s all about mama, right? People are fawning over the mother-to-be. And are so concerned about her well-being. But the minute the baby rides your slip n slide out into the world, it’s pretty much as though you are invisible. I remember being wheeled back for a c-section for number 3, when the doctor gave me the break down. “Once the babe is out, no one cares about you, you remember that, right?” Right-O, doc, I remember. You are a second-class citizen once your little rascal is retrieved. Your birthing partner will likely leave you to tend to the babe and the only things tending to you will be the person holding the needle and the thread and the warm spotlight.
8. You will wear a pad for the rest of your life.
After you deliver the babe {and the placenta, and they vacuum out the baby abode}, your body still has to take steps to evacuate the dance floor. As such, there is a good bit of bleeding that takes place. Some people claim that, for them, it is just like having a period. My experience was more like an exclamation point. In fact, maybe 12 exclamation points and a few other punctuation marks. Definitely a few question marks. The bleeding has to happen for the body to shed and cleanse… I don’t really totally know why, actually, I’m not pretending to have gone to med school… but I just picture a snake losing it’s skin or a bird molting. No matter how you picture it, it’s unpleasant. Because no one wants to be wearing a diaper around 24/7 when they have to change another person’s dipes 24/7. And no one wants to smell like labor for weeks on end. But we don’t choose these things, they choose us. And part of the miracle of life is a big, bloody discharge situation. So stow as many hospital pads as possible in your to-go bag, or buy stock in Always {or, I have a friend who had c-sections who is a huge proponent of wearing only Depends}… whatever your pad of preference, make sure they are plentiful. And you won’t actually have to wear them forever… this too shall pass. But it has to go through you first. {This is actually true whether you deliver a full-term baby, a pre-term, or even if you miscarry. The business must find a way to leave the building.} And once the crimson wave subsides, some people find pantyliners to be a perma-friend in their arsenal due to every-so-often giggle gushes or leaping leaks.
9. Your first labor probably won’t go as you planned.
Truth be told, my second and third labor and delivery experiences were really doable. Not as planned. But doable. And I fully attribute that to a) having been there, done that and b) letting go of the mass of my expectations. But the first labor… notsomuchatall. I had anticipated laboring at home for as long as possible, swinging into the hospital, maybe asking for an epidural, and bim bam boom, birthing the baby and smiling for pics with that after-birth glow. And then, he was induced at 36 weeks. Because he stopped growing. Soooo no birthing at home. No using the birthing ball. No slow dancing with the hubs. And a whole cocktail of drugs was necessary to woo him into the world. I also encountered what I have to believe was back labor — it felt as though a squirrel had burrowed into my back and was attempting to settle in for the rest of winter — which made me want to have my husband’s vas deferens clamped immediately. And it took, what felt like weeks {okay… it was days}, to get the babe to climb down the rabbit hole. So yeah. It was not what I thought it was going to be. And I don’t think that is just because he was a little early. I think it’s because every experience is so darn unpredictable that there’s no telling how yours might play out. If it does go EXACTLY as you planned, never breathe a word of that fact to ANYONE. Keep it to yourself. Unless you want to get punched in the neck someday.
10. It might not be that bad for you.
For every twenty people who have had bad, long, painful birthing experiences the first time around, there seem to always be a handful who popped out their first peanut on their due date, without pain meds, after screeching into the hospital just in time to deliver. They spent less than 24 hours as the patient. And they basically looked at the time at the hospital as a mini-vacay. These people will make you believe this is achievable. It is. But it is not the norm. They may also make you feel like you are a wimp, have no will power, or were not “made for childbirth”. Well, then my hips do lie because I was clearly made and built for childbirth and yet, my first birthing experience was a trip. But if it isn’t that bad for you, then high fives all around. You won the almond! And also, please see the the last few sentences of #9.
11. You will be behind on sleep from the beginning of your labor experience.
First, you have to be the pusher-outer of an actual human LIFE. That takes time, energy, and a fair amount of grunting. You are then, essentially, whisked through a carwash where they vacuum you out, shine you up real good, and leave you with that new baby smell. Then, eventually, you are presented with the prize of all prizes, the human that will from this day forward siphon your energy, your money, your sleep, and your sanity. The whole shebang is quite the whirlwind and so… you are completely exhausted by the time the babe is born. But you still have to parent said baby. And you still have to be a functioning, responsible grown human being. There is no, “You take a week off and the baby will be waiting for you upon your routine.” {unless your Kim Kardashian, I suppose}. So you’re tired. Bone tired. With all the technology out there, why is there no way to stockpile sleep for the times in life when it is of complete necessity? Can’t someone figure that out? Luckily, at some point {for some, this is 6 weeks. For others, 6 years}, you grow so used to being tired that you start thinking you’re well-rested.
12. You may not immediately be IN LOVE with your babe.
But you will immediately want to nunchuck any person who wants to poke, prod, or push in between you and your fresh out of the oven bunzle. To be brutally honest, I was not in love the minute I held our first born. I was scared shitless {maybe because I took care of the poo during delivery. Who knows.} and completely confused when things did not go how I thought they were supposed to. And then, over the next few days, as we named him, held him, and stared at him for hours at a time, then, I felt the love. In fact, it was a love that was so astounding, I couldn’t have predicted its gravity. With our second and third, I felt the in-loveness IMMEDIATELY… and I have said since that I believe it was because I knew from the first how very much I could love a child. Or maybe, it was the Percocet.
13. Your nipples may crack. Ooze. And shoot fire.
Your vagina, or stomach, or bottom, are not the only body parts that get straight up dominated by the entry of your little darlin’. That little creature that you are now responsible for needs to eat. Like… a lot. A fa-reaking LOT. And what baby wants, baby gets. So if you are letting the babe get its sips from your nips, you are in for a wild ride for your funbags. Your nipples may end up resembling the other guy in a UFC fight. Battered, bruised, cracked, bloody, oozey, and the like. And if they start to feel like you are shooting fire and are full of rocks, get some cabbage leaves and treat your set to a little salad. And if that doesn’t heal them, spray some windex on them. Windex heals everything. *Of note: That is 100% a joke and in reference to a little film called My big fat greek wedding. Do not. I repeat: DO NOT spray Windex on your nipples. Specifically if you are putting them in a human’s mouth.
14. The baby may have to go to the NICU.
We knew with each of our births that there was a pretty good chance of some NICU time. This made for a pleasant surprise when they let the first two little buggers be the runts of the Nursery. But I think people rarely believe their babe will end up needing any sort of special TLC. During our NICU stay we witnessed plenty-o full-termers that wound up on the NICU track and their parents were peeeeeeved to be there. I can’t say that I blame them because they didn’t expect it. But it can truly happen on any birth … from fluid in the lungs to an infection to any sort of breathing issues and beyond… even 10 pounders can find their way into the growers and feeders crowd. And while it can be disconcerting, I think most new parents can take solace in the fact that their freshy fresh is getting the very best care possible. And it is the biggest reminder to count your lucky stars that you have a living, breathing babe to care for. Again, labor and delivery often do not go as planned.
15. They will let you take the baby home.
Seriously. If you are lucky, you will get to take the fruits of your labor HOME. There will be a moment after you are discharged and have the babe all clicked into the 5-point harness that you will think, “Oh ma gosh. They are going to let us leave with this baby”. You will click the carseat into the car and think, “Surely someone is going to come stop this craziness. We can’t be parents!”. And then, you will get in the car and drive away. And no one will be following you.
16. Your baby will lose weight.
They just will. And sometimes, it will be difficult to get them to gain it back. And if that’s the case, you may feel a bit like Crazy Eyes from Orange is the New Black. Because you will be mad-protective of your baby. And you will start to obsess over every feeding. Every ounce. Because it feels like it shouldn’t be that hard to feed and care for a human. After all, you’ve been feeding and caring for yourself pretty steadily for quite sometime. NEWSFLASH: It can be that hard. Just know that.
17. You may get the blues.
And I don’t mean the type of music. Or Blue Cross Blue Shield {although if you get that, you’re luckier than those other guys}. You might get the turn-off-that-sappy-song-on-the-radio-or-I-will-start-bawling blues. Or the I-didn’t-ask-for-a-brownie-I-asked-for-those-delicious-rice-krispie-treats-and-now-I-want-to-cry blues. You might even have postpartum depression. Or feel like you’ve never felt before. That’s understandable. Your cervix is shutting this party down and the hormones that it takes to do that can be overwhelming to some. Adversely, you may also be deliriously happy and not be able to explain the feeling of euphoria. Hormones do some cray-zay stuff. So if you do get the blues or PPD, you should totally talk to someone. Preferably someone other than the baby. And if you are slap happy, soak it up, mama. And bottle those hormones up and sell them on eBay.
18. You know nothing about babies.
Okay. That may be false. You may know about babies but you don’t know your baby yet. You’re all just getting acquainted. I’ve seen friends with 2, 3, 4, and more children scratching their heads because one baby won’t sleep like the other. Or one will feed like a monster and one is a pokey little puppy. One baby is easy peasy. The next is Evil Tuesday Baby. Or one babe is a stage 4 cling-on while the first three were basically Drefting their own onesies from the first day home. Babies are just little humans. Just like you and me, they each have their own personalities, preferences, and disposition. So just know that it’s not you, it’s them. Except when it is you. And good luck figuring out the difference.
So if you haven’t had a baby yet, I am guessing you’re lining up now to get labor and delivery checked off your bucket list. I bet you’ll spend the day searching for your own set of stirrups. But of all the truths, the biggest one is, each of my boys’ births are the biggest gifts I’ve ever received. And although my vagina, my stomach, my boobs, and more will probably never be the same, my heart won’t either. And I got an actual person from all of those truths. So I’d say it over and over and over again… all of it… is beyond worth it. In a way that no amount of words can explain.
More of my thoughts on childbirth and the like:
Give that man a medal
The fruits of labor: Real thoughts on labor and delivery
Little boys with big questions
Exciting news:
It’s Really 10 Months: Special Delivery is comin’ at ya hot on Labor Day! More stories about pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the “after”. The book will feature many writer’s works including totally new content from yours truly:). I’ll keep you posted!
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