Nate’s Birth Story, Part 1: My Induction

I can’t believe that tomorrow Nate is going to be nine weeks old, and I really can’t believe it has taken me nine weeks to even begin to write about his birth. I intended to get it down so much sooner, when all of the details were so much more fresh and vivid in my mind.

Anyway, without further delay, here’s the first part of the story of his birth, beginning with my induction at 41 weeks.

. . .

My induction was scheduled for November 23rd at 8:00 pm. That afternoon before the appointment, Graham and I went out to East Side Mario’s for lunch. We figured it would be awhile before we had the chance to have a meal, just the two of us, in a restaurant. We talked about how our life would change when the baby had arrived, and about how we were just about to be a little family. After that day, it would never be just the two of us again.

That evening Graham turned the Christmas lights on out front for the first time, a way to show how special a night it was. When I saw them lit up already, I knew that’s what he had in mind. Before leaving for the hospital, we took a picture of ourselves on the front porch, before taking our first steps, quite literally, toward parenthood.

I had mixed feelings. Of course I was excited to finally meet our baby boy, to hold him in my arms and be done with all of the physical demands of pregnancy. On the other hand, ironically, I was a little sad that I wouldn’t be pregnant anymore. I loved being pregnant, feeling Nate move around inside of me where he was safe and only mine. I was also nervous about how my life was about to change…how I was about to change. I was a little bit afraid that when we came back home, I wouldn’t be the same person I was when we left.

We got to the hospital for our appointment at 8:00 sharp. I got checked in and I was set up in an observation room, where there were several other beds, all vacant, fortunately. I changed into a hospital gown and filled out a bunch of forms and answered a million questions about my family history and current state of health. The nurse had strapped a fetal monitor around my bulging belly. One sensor measured any contractions I was having and the other measured the baby’s heartbeat. The volume was up fairly high; we could hear these loud wooshy sounds anytime he moved around, which he did a lot. He was still really active throughout the entire labour, actually. “He’s having a great time in there!” the nurse would say every time he wiggled audibly.

We watched the numbers on the monitor flicker, and Graham got all excited anytime the digits indicating a contraction went up above the baseline. I had been experiencing painless tightening for a few days, so this was nothing new to me.

The doctor finally came in and checked my cervix to see if anything was happening on its own. I had been dilated one centimeter for a couple of weeks, and my cervix had been soft and low, too, all of which told the OB on call that things would probably get moving pretty quickly once the prostiglandin gel had been administered. That part only took a few minutes. We had a few questions after the procedure was done, and the doctor drew this really bizarre diagram of a woman’s reproductive organs to give us the lowdown on what would happen when the gel started to work. Graham and I tried not to laugh at how very basic a description he gave us. After all, we had taken the prenatal classes! We knew everything already!

When the hour was up, the nurse asked us if we had our stuff in the car and asked us if we wanted to just stay at the hospital. We thought it might be better to go and relax somewhere else until contractions started. She suggested we go to a late night movie. We compromised. She signed us out on a pass and told us to come back to the hospital around 2:00 in the morning. We went home and I tried to sleep for awhile, but just couldn’t. I was sort of uncomfortable but the contractions I was having were still not very painful at all.

When we came back to the hospital, a new nurse was on duty, and she checked to see whether I had started to dilate any further. I was still at one centimeter, and I was glad she was there…she told me that the doctor wanted to go ahead and break my amniotic sac. She had told him no. Phew.

For the next few hours I tried to sleep. I was laying back on that cot in the observation room, hooked up to the monitors again. The contractions started to be a little bit more painful, but not so much that I had to use the breathing exercises I’d learned in our class. Graham dozed in a chair nearby while I rested under a warm blanket, waiting for something to happen.

Around 5:35 am, that “something” finally came along. I had a contraction that really hurt.

“Ohh, this one hurts!” I said to Graham, as I felt a big POP, and fluid started to flow out of me. The POP was both a sound I heard (and can still remember really vividly right now), kind of like a cork being pulled out of a bottle, and a sensation that felt like a really strong kick from the inside.

“I think my water just broke,” I told him excitedly. “Can you go get the nurse?”

A nurse came in to check the fluid and confirmed that yes, my water had broken, and without any invasive intervention. They seemed really excited about that. The fluid was clear, like it should be, and after that we were moved into a proper labour and delivery room. It’s a good thing, too, because soon after my water broke, the contractions got serious. THIS was what labour was all about.

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