The magic of a fearless birth can be beautiful and unbelievable. When I conceived my second baby, many things in my life were falling apart. For privacy reasons, I will not give too much detail, but I was determined to keep my depression from hindering my birth.
On the day she was born, everything was ready for the arrival of my second baby. Darrell was at work near Canada and my mom, my daughter (Leila, almost two) and I were on our way to my 39th week appointment at 10:30am. Being almost half an hour late, I grumpily waddled into the exam room and tried to ignore the noises of my mom and baby. The red raspberry leaf tea I drank everyday was working, making my small Braxton Hicks contractions stronger and more uncomfortable.
“How are you feeling?” The nurse looked straight into my eyes as she asked the question. I wondered if she could see how grumpy, tired, and worried I was.
“I’m exhausted, and stressed, but the baby feels fine,” I said, “How often do you see postpartum depression? I think I had a hard time with it after my first baby, but I never did anything about it. I can’t deal the issues my husband and I are having, and a new baby, and possibly PPD.”
I will never forget what she said:
“Postpartum depression is very serious, and if you feel like you might be suffering from it, or endangering your children, let us know right away. PPD happened to me a few months after my baby, and I thought I just had the baby blues. Then I got angry about something, and I literally blacked out and didn’t come out of it for hours. When I asked my husband what happened, he said, ‘You have a lot of apologizing to do.’ Apparently I bullied my friend and ruined a great party. I knew right away I needed help, but between that day and my doctor’s appointment, I blacked out almost every time I got over-stressed. Even the baby crying sounded like he was screaming intentionally to hurt me. I felt like I was trapped in a crazy woman’s body. It was the scariest experience I’ve ever had. So keep an eye out for PPD. It’s a whole different kind of depression.”
“Oh, honey,” laughed Dr. Heather Bedell (wonderful and amazing OB/GYN) ten minutes later as she checked my cervix, “have you been uncomfortable for a while?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’ve been having strong Braxton Hicks contractions for the past few days, but inconsistently and not like real labor contractions. I drink a ton of red raspberry leaf tea, so strong prep contractions are normal, right?”
“Yes, thats normal, but you are in labor,” Dr. Bedell replied, “The baby’s head is definitely engaged. Your water is still intact, but she is so low, you are dilated to about 5 or 6 centimeters, standing or walking - Whoa, look at that contraction! That’s probably my fault.” In reaction to being probed by Dr. Bedell, my pregnant belly shrank up around the baby and squeezed, stronger than the last few times.
My mom laughed out loud.
“I thought you were a little pissy today!” she said. We were both relieved, and surprised - how did we miss it? I thought for sure I would know when it was time, this being my second birth.
But all the signs and symptoms of labor had gone unnoticed. We decided to go home and wait for things to progress, although Dr. Bedell was convinced I would have the baby sometime that evening or night.
Sitting in the parked car, everyone buckled and ready to drive home, the next contraction crept up. I could feel the intensity steadily growing and grappled my mind for a breathing technique.
“This one’s intense - oh wow, yes, this is one. Yep…” I was clenching the steering wheel.
“Is it a real one??” my mom asked, both concerned and giggly. Her voice sounded muffled and distant, like listening through a closed door. I call this experience being in “the zone”.
When I came out of it, we discussed our options. Should we go home? Was I feeling well enough to grab coffee? How strong were these contractions?
Six minutes later, the next contraction came. I called Darrell immediately after it tapered off and told him it was time. At first, he didn’t believe me - a consequence of April Fool’s Day - but then excitedly got off the phone and started his two-hour drive back.
I drove home in between contractions (since it was less than five minutes from the health center), my mom grabbed my packed bag and birthing ball from the house, then I drove us back to the hospital. I sat in the parking lot again through another contraction as Mom held my bags and my baby Leila and stared at me on the outside of the car window. The contractions were putting me in the zone consistently and making it very clear that this was IT.
“Those are coming on quick!” Mom said and helped me climb out of the car. She took this photo of my beautiful daughter on her last day as my only baby:
Skip ahead to the labor and delivery room, forty-five minutes later. My to-do list was almost complete: 1. I had checked in, 2. Leila had been driven back to the house to stay with my friend, Erica, 3. I turned down the lights, put on my headphones, and rocked on the birthing ball, 4. Wait for Darrell to arrive, and 5. Have a baby! I sunk into a deep comfortable mood on the birthing ball, rolling my hips around during contractions and listened to Princess of China on repeat. I counted the beats in the music through each contraction: One, two, three, four, five, six - holy shit, breathe - seven, eight, one, two…
Grasping the meaning of “relaxing” through labor was challenging in my first birth, since labor pain is very different from real pain. (Of course there can be “real pain” in labor, a sign that usually means something needs attention.) The flexing of the uterus and the baby moving down and out is more like a natural force with intense pressure rather than pain. With my second birth came a second chance to figure it out. Eventually I moved to the bed and relaxed every part of my body starting from the muscles in my toes to the muscles in my face and rested between contractions. Under and over and under again, the contractions rolled past me like waves in the ocean. I was aware of my mom rubbing my available arm. She started at my shoulder and gently pressed her palms down my arm and released at my fingertips, then started over. This downward movement helped me visualize the baby moving down. With my other hand, I involuntarily tapped my fingers on the bed rail with each contraction wave. After a while, the tapping became a motion I used to calculate how fast the contractions were coming. The faster I tapped, the stronger they were, and Mom’s voice confirmed it as she watched the monitor.
For a moment, I sensed that the progress had stopped. Wondering if the baby was scared or stressed, I placed a free hand on my belly right where her head was and gently rubbed.
“Everything is just fine,” I whispered to her, “We are doing great. We are going to be fine.”
But would we really be fine? Where would we be in the next few months, or the next few days? Would I be bonding with this baby alone? Would I be parenting alone? Fear and anxiety gripped me and I tried my best to counteract with the relaxation techniques. But I couldn’t. I hid my face and burst into tears. At first I was overwhelmingly sad. Then I became indignant. This was not a good time for sadness. I would not lose control. Stress would not ruin this birth for me and my new baby.
“We are going to be fine,” I whispered over and over.
My doctor arrived to check on me, and we decided to break my water (I do not recommend) to help things along.
Then Darrell finally arrived, covered in oil and dust and metal shavings from work. His shyness accompanied with fervent care was perfect. Our unfinished problems were put aside and he held my hand tight with unshakable, reassuring strength.
“Do I have to rub your back?” he whispered to me a few minutes later.
I smiled with my eyes closed, remembering the back and arm pain he had suffered after rubbing/squeezing my lower back when Leila was born.
“No,” I whispered, “I just want to hold your hand.”
“Good. I don’t think I could go through that again.”
His relief was so genuine and comical, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
Within minutes, things progressed. I was sitting back with my eyes closed, trying to relax the muscles in my face that kept creeping into a grimace. Dr. Bedell had been notified and was waiting until it was time for me to push. Both my mom and husband were floating around somewhere in the room, but I was in such a zone I could barely notice. Wave after wave came full force and wrapped up my belly like an powerful corset. Mom came to stroke my leg in a downward motion like before, but it was irritating. I snapped, “Don’t do that.” and she immediately stopped without a word. (Sorry, Mom!) The pressure was more intense than ever, which meant I was very close to holding my baby.
Suddenly, it felt like someone had dumped hot lava on top of me and I burst into a sweat.
“Mom, can you get them to turn the AC down, or a fan, or something??” I whispered franticly.
“The air conditioning isn’t working in these rooms, sorry,” said the nurse standing in the corner.
Mom, Darrell, and I all exchanged looks. No air conditioning in labor and delivery, in June? We weren’t in the desert, but I felt like I was suffocating.
My mom jumped to action. She retrieved ice chips and a freezing cold wash cloth and doused my body. Then she ran to the window and yanked on the reluctant frames to let in a breeze. Cool air exploded into the room and lifted the curtains in a movie-like billow, hitting me in the face with awesome relief.
“I think I need to push…”
I changed positions to lie back as the nurse checked me, and then she yelled down the hall for Dr. Bedell.
“You’re bladder is completely full!” said the nurse, “Did you drink, like, a gallon of water?” I remembered chugging a few cups of water for my urine test during the appointment that morning. The nurse kindly helped me relieve myself (which was completely embarrassing and very hard to do with family and nurses watching you, I highly recommend using the bathroom periodically while in labor so this doesn’t happen to you). Once that was over, I felt the baby’s head drop significantly and I instinctively had to bear down with the baby’s descent. Dr. Bedell came flying in with a smile on her face and calmly coached me through a push. I felt what is called the “ring of fire” as the baby’s head and shoulders passed through, and as I pushed, Dr. Bedell was touching the baby. My body suddenly stopped contracting and rested for a few seconds. I hadn’t stalled in my first birth, so this surprised me and I looked at Dr. Bedell for guidance. She was unmoved and simply told me to breathe. Another wave of contractions surged.
“Ok, Hannah, aim the baby right at me…” said Dr. Bedell. She nestled my tiny baby girl in her arms as she slipped from my body. A sweet purplish face grimaced in the new world and whimpered. I leaned back into the bed and took my baby girl from my doctor, holding her close to my chest and laughed out loud. I said, “Hi, it’s ok, we’re alright!”
And we were.
Abrielle Elisabeth was born at 2:56pm, 6.11 pounds.
As I nestled her and cooed at her with my teary-eyed husband (yes, TEARY) and overjoyed mom, the nurses gently fussed and cooed with us. I counted her fingers and toes, stared at her perfectly round face and the prettiest lips I have ever seen. Then came pain - the only real, unbearable pain I had during the entire experience. I remembered from my first birth that this was the placenta being birthed, but this time the pain was worse. (I suspect that hormones were added to my IV after Abrielle was born to help deliver my placenta and control bleeding, a routine which makes contractions more intense and does not need the mother’s approval, but can be refused.)
An hour later, I wheeled Abrielle in a bassinet to our recovery room, where she and I stayed for the next few days. She breastfed excellently, slept and woke for nursing perfectly, and sounded like a little baa-ing lamb when she cried. We had many family visitors over our hospital stay, but the best visitor was my first daughter. Leila, looking very big, held her baby sister quietly and gently when she came to visit with Darrell and Mom. I watched Leila fondly and excitedly familiarize herself with her new job. The new sisters were wonderful.
Babies cannot fix your marital issues. But you can still have a wonderful birth experience, despite the most depressing circumstances.
My husband and I separated, and my daughters and I moved back to Texas three weeks later.
Postpartum depression never returned.
If you or someone you know is suffering from PPD, please educate yourself on the signs, symptoms and treatments. Find a group online, or local support, talk to your doctor, and ask for help. If friends and family aren’t an option, find a doula!
There are also the “baby blues,” a less dangerous form of depression that usually occurs to mothers (and fathers) during the first few weeks postpartum. Remember, you are recovering physically, hormonally, as well as learning about a newborn and their specific needs, probably not eating enough or sleeping enough - it is overwhelming. Ask for some help around the house so you can bond with your baby, take a shower, or nap.
Here are some helpful resources about postpartum depression:
Postpartum Support International - http://www.postpartum.net
Postpartum Health Alliance - http://www.postpartumhealthalliance.org
Postpartum Depression Awareness Group on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/PostpartumDepressionAwareness
Postpartum Support Groups in the US and Canada - http://www.postpartumprogress.com/ppd-support-groups-in-the-u-s-canada
Symptoms of Postpartum Depression/Anxiety - http://www.postpartumprogress.com/the-symptoms-of-postpartum-depression-anxiety-in-plain-mama-english
Articles about using red raspberry tea leaf during pregnancy:
Mama Natural - http://www.mamanatural.com/red-raspberry-leaf-tea/
Wellness Mama - http://wellnessmama.com/5107/raspberry-leaf-herb-profile/
Herbal Tea and Pregnancy by the American Pregnancy Association - http://americanpregnancy.org/pregnancy-health/herbal-tea/
And here is the song I used - unconventional, but to each his own!
Princess of China featuring Rihanna by Coldplay - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8
All photos were taken by my mom, Patricia, and edited by me.
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