Mommy Proofing: The Legend of the Doomsday Birther

Mommy Proof #7: For every beautiful birth story you hear, there is always that one woman who will plague you with every detail of her horrific labor experience. My name is Jenn. Natural childbirth is STUPID! The ring of fire is real. Your vagina will implode and it will NEVER be the same.

Ever so often in the dead of the night, I wake up in a cold sweat. The echo of Tarzan's screams could be mistaken as the howl of the wind, but I instantly recognize it. It fills my soul with the most horrific memories. Memories that even the coldest heart will fight to dispel. It is my recollections of my NUCB, also known as Natural Unmedicated Child Birth.

I have seen a lot of birth stories. Heard of countless births where the mothers describe themselves as feeling empowered and strong. How they didn't need medical interventions. How they were prepared through Bradley methods, childbirth classes, Lamaze instructions, hypnobirthing. Well, all of these women are better than me. This post will be referred to as "The Legend of the Doomsday Birther." I will NEVER speak of this experience again...unless asked with little prodding. This is not going to be an uplifting birth story. You are not going to cry, because of its sugary sweetness. You are not going to feel empowered. You are going to be scared out of your mind. You may want to click the close tab right now.

Childbirth can be described as beautiful and miraculous. I choose to refer to Kai's day of reckoning as horrific and fear invoking. When you first find out you are expecting, you imagine that joyous occasion when your baby is placed into your arms. Very few people think about the pain that a woman goes through as she brings that child into the world. You only think about the happiness one sees as a family grows in number and love. Before you go into the hospital, most women prepare a Birth Plan. A birth plan is exactly what it sounds like. The plan you want followed while you are in labor. You can state the type of labor you would like, who you would like in the room with you, whether or not you want to wear your own clothes or not, the type of pain management you would utilize.....When I wrote my birth plan, it was simply put:

Drug me! Drugs! Give me anything and everything. (Okay, well not ANYTHING!) Drugs, DrUgS, DRUGS! I wanted drugs. (I wanted to "try" to labor naturally mainly to pacify the masses that believe in NUCB. But my end resolve was if I tried and could not succeed, have the anesthesiologist on stand by. The dude needing back surgery would have to wait. I wanted an epidural.)

I went in for my medically necessary induction hopeful. I had a stress ball and an exercise ball. My husband knew the massage I desired during contractions. My mother had attended two of my previous births. They knew the drill. I wanted encouragement, but not too much talking. I didn't want to be touched unless I asked. I wanted to stop being touched when I asked. It was simple. My birth plan was ripped to shreds right in front of me. Well, not literally, but it felt that way.

A couple of hours after coming into the hospital, the anesthesiologist, doctor, and nurses came in to speak with me. One of them said something about "low platelets" and a "bleeding risk." I don't remember any of it. Everything was a daze after I heard that "you are not eligible for an epidural." No epidural. No pain medication of any kind. I had been thrown into the NUCB gauntlet with no weapons of defense. I was terrified. I kept on picturing the natural childbirth videos that I had viewed online two weeks before. (DO NOT DO THAT!!!!! GO IN EYES WIDE SHUT!) The woman's whimpering for them to remove her child replayed in my head. I was also dumb enough to view a c-section. So that was option was out. Then I told myself to, "Get it together, Jenn." My epidural wore off while I was in labor with my third child. I have had three babies. I can do this with my eyes closed. I was so happy I had brought my exercise ball. I had already asked my husband to use his strong hands to massage the kinks out of my back once labor really started rolling. We would be fine. I could do this.

I started to remember the classes I had taken while I was pregnant with my first child. I called my mother and sisters and listened to their pointers. A good friend of mine came to the hospital to talk to me and calm my nerves. The nurses were encouraging and telling me how I could do this. By the third dose of pitocin, I realized that I was surrounded by liars. Every last one of them. That stupid massage did nothing but annoy me. The exercise ball was a joke. I stupidly asked for NO catheter so I could get up and move about. You try to balance yourself over a bed pan during contractions. The contractions began to come relentlessly overlapping in duration and intensity. Why would they tell me I could do this? My body was literally being ripped apart. How are there 7 billion people on this earth? Who would do this 7 billion times? Why did I do this once? Why did I do this four times? What is wrong with me?

Notice the blood and gore??????

To get me through my pain, I developed in my mind a list of people that would pay. The nurse who came in to check my pitocin. She was the first person on my list. The nurse who told me that I couldn't have the epidural was tied for first. The anesthesiologist had no reason to even come into my room, but there she was. Big dummy. I had already secretly loathed my husband's strong hands. He kept putting them in the wrong spot. I didn't even try to listen to music. I also hated that exercise ball. I sat on that dumb exercise ball with my butt hanging out of my gown thinking it would bounce my pain away. I ended up in a ball on my bed, rolling from side to side after it failed me. The OB came into the room and I pleaded with her to check me. I was ready.

I felt the pressure I felt with my third child. In a few moments, I would meet my child. The OB stuck her hand in side of me to check my progress. The next thing I remember is her breathing fire and hissing, "There is just a little bit of cervix left. We are going to push through that." She then spooned me in a wrestling move, inserted her fist into my cervix and told me to push. (You may THINK that is impossible...) After a few pushes, she removed her fist and they started to prepare the room. Suddenly, I smelled something burning.

I remember stopping and looking around the room. No one seemed alarmed. That smell. We needed to evacuate the building. SOMETHING WAS ON FIRE! Why were the fire alarms not going off? I soon realized why no one seemed concerned. That burning smell was the singe of my flesh as my son's head was crowning. It was the dreaded "RING OF FIRE." People also don't realize that without an epidural, you really do feel everything. The baby kicked me in my spleen on the way out. It felt like I was giving birth to an octopus. I let out a long Tarzan inspired scream and he appeared on my chest. Finally relieved, I introduced myself to my baby, "You baby. Me Mommy." As the nurse took him to check him over, I am ashamed to say I rolled my eyes at the five second old newborn. Don't judge me.