I’ll start this by saying that no woman knows what to expect despite the abundance of literature published on the topic of labor and delivery. It is truly the great unknown. Every experience is different and no matter how many friends and relatives share their personal experience, you are incredibly naive to believe that yours won’t be unique. I was terrified of the process *maybe I still am?* and if asked what my birth plan was, the only answer you’d get was “medicated.” Didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to know what was happening. Just wanted him to arrive safely and be on my way. Was I crazy? YOU BET. But being an “un-mother” and truly never having planned doing this, I just wanted the whole thing to happen and not try to dictate the event. What would happen would happen. In the end, I am so very glad I had this mentality.

Before I begin, I cannot leave a sentiment like this for the footnote – our entire experience was made by the most wonderful staff on the 4th floor of United Memorial Medical Center in Batavia. The care I received was unparalleled – Scott and I are so indebted to them for keeping us safe and healthy when all was said and done. I wanted to be best friends with every nurse on that floor, and I can’t imagine delivering Roux anywhere else in the world. To anyone who is going to go through labor and delivery – 4th floor at UMMC. You’re welcome. And a special, very sincere thank you to the midwife who delivered Roux, Catherine Burke, for making every right decision along the way. Her expertise and her demeanor is everything you could hope for in delivering a child.


8 days late, Wednesday June 9th: My weekly appointment proved little was happening, but there was hope that things might be underway as mild contractions had begun. I left the office defeated but determined that a bit of walking, red raspberry leaf tea, and perhaps a spicy dinner would yield results. Something worked because by late that evening I was more than uncomfortable and knew I would be getting very little sleep.

After a long and laborious night going into Thursday the 10th, Scott, my sister Adrienne (who is a trained doula!!) and I decided to head to the hospital sometime around 5am when the timing of things progressed enough to warrant the trip. Upon arrival, however, my progress was deemed practically non-existent despite the timing and the pain, so instead of sending me all the way back home for another sleepless night (and I was scheduled to be induced over the weekend if no baby came…) my midwife decided that a touch of morphine to take the edge off and allow my body some rest to progress might be the best course of action. Mid-day I was scheduled for an ultrasound as he was already so late, and when he failed his ultrasound for not enough fetal movement and the fact that he was measuring 9 lbs 12 oz on the screen (insert my PANIC when they told me that the baby they thought would be 7.5-8lbs was measuring almost 10) they decided to admit me and help things along. By midnight, I was begging for an epidural and the most wonderful human on the planet, whom I would have married if I was not already, gave me the sweetest relief and I was able to relax enough that by 5am, I was checked and everything was given the green light to start his delivery.


Pushing sucks. Let’s just say it. And what made it suck even more – and I hate the word suck but it fits here – was that due to his size, my midwife helped coach me into understanding that keeping the epidural going would limit my ability to deliver him without intervention, should I not have enough sensation. There was an entire plan in place in the event that he was too big, and I needed to be able to move on my own to be able to deliver a healthy baby. The trust I have in my midwife is more than anyone can ever know, and so of course I acquiesced. So though it wasn’t a *completely* unmedicated delivery, I am proud to say that Roux was born because of that decision, on my own, without needing any intervention. Every single bit of him was perfect, and I would do it a thousand times over knowing the little human that resulted from the experience.


A little light humor before things take a turn – in the middle of delivery, one of the nurses in the room asked me to concentrate on something I wanted at the end, and without a moment’s hesitation I said “A COCKTAIL!” and as promised, the most wonderful soul whipped me up a delectable juice and ginger ale concoction as soon as it was over.

Roux was born at 7:23am, 9 lbs 2 oz and 22 inches long. He was immediately placed on my chest for an entire hour before he was weighed, measured, and other routine things were done. Everything they needed to do, they did with him on me and I am so grateful for the distraction. For as I was doting on the most perfect human in the world, things started to get blurry and I began to lose vision…

Quick note: about three weeks before Roux arrived, I sat in my doctor’s office with tears in my eyes, awash in anxiety over the imminent arrival of my son. Terrified of labor and delivery, one of the midwives asked me what I was so scared of – “hemorrhaging” I said. There was no reason, for I have never known of anyone to whom that had happened. Somewhere in me, a deep seated fear of hemorrhaging had emerged as the greatest source of my anxiety. The midwife told me that of all the things of which I should be concerned, that was the least of my worries. She walked me through all of their protocols for that emergency, and I remember her saying that if nothing worked and blood was needed, it was a quick phone call away. I am so grateful that I had that conversation with her so I would be prepared for what was to transpire.


Scott will tell you that nothing in the world was more terrifying than what happened after Roux’s arrival. And had I not been completely distracted by Roux, I would have most likely been equally concerned. In the end, I suffered a hemorrhage after delivery that resulted in the need for a transfusion. The entire thing is a bit of a blur now, but I remember seeing nurses speaking in hurried tones, feeling Scott lean over me protectively, and hearing Roux squeak as he squirmed on my chest. Had it not been for Adrienne who stayed on one side and Scott on the other while my perfect baby boy laid brand new on me, I’m not sure what I would have done.

That evening we spent as a family of 3 in the hospital room – weak and exhausted but feeling so grateful. The first transfusion helped but it was not enough that the next day my doctor fought through multiple levels of administration to get me a second transfusion as my levels were still unstable and I was symptomatic. The national blood shortage deemed that a second transfusion was not granted to someone post-delivery, but because of the advocacy of my doctor on my behalf, I was able to recover enough after the second transfusion and was released the following evening.
And then I went to the ER and was admitted again only 18 hours later…

To Be Continued.