Choosing Waterbirth: Reclaiming the Sacred Power of Birth (17 page)

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Chapter 23—

A Hospital Stay, and Then a Home Birth

Madhuri Shana, born June 4, 1996, 6:36 P.M., twentytwo and a half inches long, weighing eight pounds, eleven ounces.

Rani's birth was so quick and easy, we almost didn't have time to fill the tub. After such an easy third birth, I figured my fourth would be even easier, and I worried that we wouldn't have time to fill the tub. Madhuri's birth proved that no matter how many times it happens, birth is never predictable.

Madhuri's birth was preceded by so many stressful occurrences that by the time her due date arrived, I was actually relieved that she hadn't been born. Because of this, I experienced none of the anxious waiting that I had with the two boys, neither had I the element of surprise as with Rani's birth. Madhuri waited until exactly the right time, and then she was born.

June 4, 1996:

This morning I wake up grateful that Rani slept through the night for the first time in five days. Before that, it was Nilakantan I was worried about.

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On May 9th, three weeks ago, Nilakantan woke up in the middle of the night with violent stomach cramps. He was so sick, he had to be taken to the ER. He spent an entire day there while they treated him for severe dehydration, and then sent him home that evening, uncured, with the probable diagnosis of "stomach flu."

Over the next few days, he seemed to get only marginally better. He could eat very little, was tired all of the time, and five days later, the violent pain began to come back. We returned to the ER. After running more tests, a CT scan showed that he was suffering from a ruptured appendix, and that it had ruptured prior to his first trip to the hospital.

Somehow they had missed it.

That night he had emergency surgery.

Fortunately I wasn't aware of the seriousness of his condition as I sat alone in the surgical waiting room while they operated. It was only later that I realized how lucky he was to be alive.

The operation took two and a half hours. He came through it well, but was very sick and had to remain in the hospital for a week while they gave him intravenous antibiotics to kill the infection caused by the rupture. For the first four days I stayed with him, sleeping on a cot at the bottom of his bed, all of our children staying with my parents.

On the morning of the fourth day, I began having regular contractions accompanied by extreme agitation. It seemed that the stress was catching up with me and we determined that I would stay at home for the rest of his hospital stay, only coming in during the day to visit.

We told the surgeons who were caring for Nilakantan that I needed to go home in case the baby came. After all, I didn't want to give birth in the hospital! We told them should I go into labor, we would need an ambulance to rush me home. They found it extremely funny as the maternity ward was on the floor above us.

Nilakantan remained in the hospital for seven days. After that, they let him come home on the condition that I would change the dressing on his incision site three times a day. It Page 114

was very difficult once he got home and the reality of his condition, and thus our situation, hit us. Our baby was due in two weeks, Nilakantan was unable to walk well, to drive for six weeks, or to lift anything over ten pounds. As big as a barrel by now, I wasn't much better.

It occurred to me at that time that there must be a higher power because I would never plan my life that way. It was like some big cosmic joke. One that we would, hopefully, find funny one day.

As it was, Nilakantan's parents came from England to lend a hand. Between their help, and that of my parents, all our bases were covered.

And so, we all sit and wait for the new arrival. Doris and Don, Nilakantan's parents, have been here a week now, but the baby has not made an appearance. I did have one good

"false" labor, complete with the tub filled, and the video camera set up (we've decided to film this birth) but the baby didn't come.

yesterday, Mary said the baby was still high and it seems like it will be another week. We're all a little saddened by this. If the baby waits that long, Doris and Don won't get to see the baby before they go back to England. But it's good they're here, anyway, as I don't know how we'd manage without them.

Rani smiles at me this morning looking more herself after a good night's sleep. I notice her lower left jaw appears swollen. For the last five days, she hasn't been sleeping well, and has been crying so much; I know she's been in pain. We suspected her teeth were causing the problem, and took her to the dentist yesterday to get them checked, but she wouldn't even open her mouth so her teeth could be looked at. Now, I wonder from the swelling if she has an abscessed tooth.

I gingerly put my finger into her mouth and feel a large lump on her gums, below her molars. Just as I touch it, it pops. I am relieved to find it, now having a reason for her suffering.

I stand up off the bed to get the pain medication from atop the bookshelf and as I sit back down, I feel a little pop inside of me and liquid begins to trickle out, feeling warm like pee.

I realize my water bag must have broken.

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I give Rani her medicine and stand up off the bed. As I go through the kitchen on the way to the bathroom, I meet Doris in the hallway. I say, ''Rani has an abscessed tooth and my waterbag has just broken." She's not sure whether to be happy about the baby coming or sad for Rani. "Right," she says, and we both laugh.

While Doris and Don help out getting the boys ready for school, I call the dentist to get a prescription of antibiotics for Rani, then I call Mary to let her know my water broke. I've placed a cloth in my underwear to catch the water and it feels very strange. Every time I get up from sitting or stand up from bending over, a gush of fluid runs out. I decide to wait for Mary sitting down. We put a plastic drop cloth over the couch and cover it with a towel and I sit down.

Doris and Don leave to take the boys to school and then go to get Rani's prescription, which leaves Nilakantan and me alone. He is doing much better after a week at home and gets me glasses of water and tea while we wait for Mary. It's a beautiful day, with the temperature only in the mideighties, cooler than usual for this time of year.

Mary comes at nine o'clock. I'm not having many contractions yet, and the ones I have had weren't painful. I don't think I've dilated any yet, and because there is a risk of infection now that the water bag has broken, Mary decides not to check yet.

Every once in a while I get a contraction. Short and not very long at the peak, I know they will have to get much stronger for the baby to be born. I remember the power of Rani's birth, and I think it will probably still be a while before this baby is born.

Our photographer, Chandra Schoonover, has arrived, along with Mary. As well as being a dear friend, Chandra is also a masseuse and she spends some time on each of us, massaging the tension from our necks and shoulders.

By eleven o'clock, not much has changed. Mary decides to check me, though we both think my cervix will not be much dilated due to the lightness and infrequency of the contractions. It turns out I am four centimeters already and it looks as if the baby may come soon.

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Mary fills the tub, with Chandra's help this time, as Nilakantan is still unable to do much. My parents are called and informed of my progress. They decide to wait out most of the labor at their house where Doris and Don are also waiting.

Once it's full, I don't feel like getting in the tub. My labor is still too slow for me to want to get into the water. I wander around waiting for things to pick up. My contractions are coming irregularly, ten to twenty minutes apart and still short at the peak. I try walking outside to help to get the labor going, but it's hot, so I come back inside. I eat a light meal and then rest.

At twothirty Mary checks my cervix again. I am making progress, but the baby is still high and needs to come down quite a bit. We decide to empty the tub as it is getting cold and I still have no inclination to get in.

I am restless and go outside onto our back deck. A storm is rolling in on dark clouds. I have read that the energy generated by a storm can stimulate labor. I wonder if this one will help mine. While I am walking, Mary suggests I try rolling my nipples between my fingers to see if that will help to stimulate contractions. When nipples are stimulated a natural hormone called oxytocin is released causing the uterus to contract which can help with a slow labor.

It seems to help and as the storm breaks in earnest, I ask for the tub to be filled. At four thirty it is ready and I get in. The contractions are stronger and painful enough that I am grateful when the tub is ready. They are still short at the peak, though, and five or six minutes apart.

In the tub, I relax completely. This is so familiar and comforting. I laugh and joke in between contractions, and breathe through each one. My labor continues in the same odd pattern that it has shown all along, with contractions coming at irregular intervals and being short at the peak. Even though this is the case, my labor becomes increasingly painful, more so than I remember from my other births. Each contraction seems to roll right through me, leaving me exhausted.

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Mary wants to check the baby's heartbeat. I get out of the tub. Half an hour ago, I was laughing and joking, now I barely hear what people are saying to me. The baby's heartbeat sounds good and I am nine centimeters dilated, but the baby still has not dropped down into the birth canal. Nine centimeters, I know, could mean a half an hour of labor yet to go.

I feel so discouraged, the contractions are so painful, I want the labor to be over.

I get back in the tub and another contraction hits me. It goes and minutes later another one comes. As the peak of this one slides away, I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to push. I push with all my might and I feel the baby moving down through my pelvic bones to the vaginal opening where her head crowns. Mary tells me to slow down, there's no need to hurry. She says to pant like I did with Nataraja, and the baby's head eases out. I reach down and rub the baby's head, welcoming, marveling. On that one push, she is almost born.

For ninety seconds, I wait for another contraction to push her out the rest of the way. Mary's hands are on the baby's head along with mine. She says she can feel the umbilical cord is wrapped twice around the baby's neck, and that it is still pulsing; a sign that the baby is receiving blood and oxygen through the cord.

Even though I have no contraction, Mary tells me to push. As I push, the shoulders are born, one first, then the other, followed by the rest of the baby. While Mary is busy under the water sliding the umbilical cord over the baby's head to unwrap it from the neck, I am checking for the sex and finding I have another girl. I am so happy. Secretly, I wanted another girl.

The cord unwraps a total of three and a half times. Then Mary brings the baby up out of the water and lays her in my arms. She is quiet and still. Outside, the storm has gone and the sun breaking through the clouds streams in through the kitchen window and casts a soft light on her. Mary rubs her back and massages her stomach trying to stimulate her to breathe. She coughs a little and sputters, then is quiet again. Finally, Mary flicks the bottom of her feet and immediately Page 118

she cries heartbreaking wails. Not the grumpy, angry wails of Nataraja, hers are the sad sort of crying that tugs at your heart. I lean over and whisper to her, comforting. After a moment she quiets. Her eyes gazing up at me look far away and otherwordly and deep like the bottom of the sea.

She has clasped the medallion I always wear in her fist and doesn't let it go even as I lean over and ease her body back down into the water. Nilakantan leans in to look at her, holding a hand up to shield her from the late afternoon sun. We are both so happy to see her, having so recently been reminded of the preciousness and fragility of life. She seems an even greater gift for the reminder.

Madhuri's birth was the most difficult of all my experiences. Having the umbilical cord wrapped so many times around her neck is probably what prevented her from moving down into the birth canal until the very end, when I pushed her all the way to crowning on the one push. And her remaining high in the birth canal is what caused the contractions to be so painful for me.

Once Madhuri's head was born, the ninety seconds that went by while we waited for another contraction caused some pressure to be built up in her head. This caused the whites of her eyes to be filled with blood, and her cheeks and chin to sustain purple bruises. In addition to this, her collarbone was broken. A relatively common occurrence called a "spring break"—I sustained one during my own birth—Madhuri's was probably caused by her very rapid descent down the birth canal.

In reviewing this experience later, I had to ask myself if I felt she would have been better off in a hospital setting. I realized we were very fortunate that Madhuri sustained no lasting damage from the umbilical cord being wrapped around her neck, and from moving down the birth canal so quickly.

From what I have learned of hospital practice, though, I have become certain she had a better chance at home. My labor could have been considered "dysfunctional"

in the

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hospital setting due to the contractions being light, irregular, and short through the peak. From this determination, pitocin, a drug given to stimulate uterine contractions, may have been administered. I am not sure Madhuri would have survived the longer, harder, and more frequent contractions caused by the pitocin. From this drug, her blood supply, which naturally decreases during each contraction, as noted by a decreased heart rate, may have become too low to sustain her.

There is no way for me to know if this would have been the case. It is just a feeling I have, a sense of knowing that the choice I made was right. Knowing what could have happened to her, I find myself grateful everyday that she was born safe and sound.