One Baby, Please, Hold the Sugar: A Birth Story
One baby, please, hold the sugar is my daughter’s birth story told from her perspective. These words are her own and don’t necessarily express my personal views or opinions. I welcome all women to share their birth stories! Please contact me if you’d like to publish your birth story on The Incomplete Guide to Parenting. If you are interested in my doula or lactation services, please visit my website Disclaimer: No artificial sweeteners here I’ve gone back and forth about putting my story out into the world. I never wanted to scare anyone, and so when asked, I would come up with a glossed over, toned down version of my story, the “polite” version. But I recently read a birth story that was such a blatant bunch of sugar-coated bull**** that I laughed out loud. I felt like it skirted over the gory details to maintain that polite, perfect facade. The thing is, those kinds of stories hurt me (and many others no doubt) because while I know they’re not honest, there’s a part of me that questions it. Was my experience so out of the ordinary? Why do all these women talk about their births like it was a beautiful dream come true while I still have nightmares about mine? I catch myself feeling resentful towards those moms, and that’s not fair of me either. But it’s how I feel, and I know I’m not the only one. This story is not one of rainbows and candy-coated truths. This story is real and raw, and if that’s not something you can or want to hear, I suggest you move along. I tell my story the way it is because I owe it to myself and to every other woman out there who wonders if she alone has suffered. I hope that others might find solace in knowing that they are not alone and that they might find the strength to talk about their own authentic experiences. Birth: Early Labor I went into labor on a quiet Saturday morning in October. It was 2 am when I awoke to mild contractions. I was five days past my due date and had been impatient for the last couple of weeks, so I eagerly began timing them and saw that they were about 10 minutes apart. I didn’t want to get my hopes up – I’d had Braxton Hicks a few times already. So I tried to relax and go back to sleep, but the contractions continued. Around 6 am, my husband stirred a bit beside me, so I took the opportunity to tell him that I believed labor had started. We were both well prepared for a long haul. I’ve watched and learned from my mom’s and sisters’ pregnancies and knew that, especially for first-time moms, labor could take a while to get going. So we went about our business as usual. I showered and made pancakes. I almost would have forgotten that I was in labor if I didn’t get a little twinge in my back every ten minutes. My mom – who’s also my doula and lactation consultant – had an event to go to that afternoon. She offered to skip it, but I waved her off. I’m sure nothing will happen before tonight at the earliest, I said. Oh, boy was I wrong. Birth: Active Labor It was so sudden. I was taking a bath. One minute I felt relaxed, and the next, my body was just in agony. Contractions – real contractions, not those mild early labor contractions – feel white-hot and twisted, like someone’s wringing your organs as you burn from the inside out. I was crying, and I grabbed my phone to text my husband to come be with me. He timed my next few contractions, and we realized they were 2-4 minutes apart. I was so prepared for a drawn-out labor, but here I was only 10 hours from the first contraction and suddenly in active labor. The shock of it all had me feeling whiplashed. It was barely noon. Should we be going to the hospital? It didn’t seem logical. We called my mom so she could drive with us. She reminded me that I could be expected to labor outside the hospital if I wasn’t dilated enough to be admitted. I hesitated, but at this point, I was barely speaking and was spending a lot of time doubled over crying, so we went. “Contractions feel white-hot and twisted, like someone’s wringing your organs as you burn from the inside out.” The 40-minute drive to the hospital was not pleasant. My contractions were now just one minute apart, lasting for a minute or less. I contracted approximately 20 times in the back seat of a small sedan, crying into my husband’s shoulders while my mom rubbed my back. Being in labor anywhere sucks, but it somehow sucks even worse when you’re confined to a small space. When we finally got there, I was desperate to get in the tub as I had planned for a water birth. I didn’t want an epidural, so being in the water was crucial for me. And what a world of a difference it made. I was still contracting hard and fast, but it was so much more manageable. Birth: Transition My midwife met us upon arrival. She’d watched me through a contraction and admitted me but didn’t check to see how dilated I was. After laboring in the tub a bit, I wanted to know what kind of progress we were making, if any, so I asked her to check me. I was 9.5 centimeters dilated, and the baby was in the -1 station. I was shocked. It was about 1:30 pm. I’d been in active labor for less than 2 hours. I started to feel hopeful that our baby would be born quickly. (Haha that didn’t happen) My water had yet to break, and I was impatient, so I eventually asked my midwife to break
