Then, in the final moments of my nearly 24-hour labor, I ended up having a thing I didn’t even remember reading about: chorioamnionitis, or “chorio” (like Oreo with a hard C sound at the beginning), for short.

It wasn’t as bad as many of the other “worsts” I’d prepared myself for, but it got us stuck in the hospital for an extra week, which obviously wasn’t ideal. So I figured I’d share my tale so that any expecting moms reading it are aware of one more potential scenario.

I'm smiling because I have no idea what's about to happen to me.

My labor started out pretty typically. I was 40 weeks and six days pregnant, and woke up at 4 on a Tuesday morning with contractions. I labored at home for a bit; then, my husband, Matt, drove me to the hospital around 9. I wasn’t dilating very quickly, so at 1 p.m., a doctor came in and broke my water.

Dozens more contractions, several different positions and one epidural later, it was after midnight and finally time to start the actual delivery. I felt weak, exhausted and kind of strange, but I figured, “Well, this is childbirth.” The prospect of holding my baby girl soon got me pushing. Unfortunately, she hadn’t moved much after a half hour, so we took a break.

When we resumed, my attending nurse felt my head and exclaimed, “Oh, Mama, you’re hot!” It turned out I had a fever of 101; plus, my heart rate and the baby’s were both high. That’s when I heard her say the word to one of the other nurses.

“Chorio.”

“What’s that?” I demanded.

“It’s an infection,” she explained. “The more time that goes by after they break your water, the more likely it is that your amniotic sac will get infected. You’ve gone more than 12 hours.”

Suddenly, there were a lot more people in our room, and it was clear to me that it was Go Time. I pushed with every morsel of energy I could muster — so hard, in fact, that I threw up.

Julie’s head was stuck under my pubic bone, so my OB/GYN had to use a vacuum (which seemed more like a glorified suction cup on a string to me) to pull her out as I continued to push. I suffered a third-degree tear, and Julie was covered in meconium (her first bowel movement) when she finally emerged at 2:51 a.m.

Good thing I tried not to have any expectations, right?

Matt and I got to hold Julie briefly, but then she was whisked away to receive antibiotics because she, too, had the infection. I would only need antibiotics for 48 hours; she would need them for an entire week.

Fortunately, our hospital lets moms and dads of newborns who need prolonged care stay in their rooms as long as they’re not needed by other patients. So although I was “discharged” from the hospital on Friday morning, Matt and I both stayed put until the following Wednesday.

We sure missed our queen-size pillowtop at home, but at least we had our girl.

Julie got her vitals checked every 24 hours from her birth (every night at 2:51 a.m.), received her IV medication every 12 hours from her first dose (at 5 p.m. and 5 a.m. daily), and the pediatrician checked on her every morning at 7 a.m. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep much.

It certainly wasn’t the most ideal way to spend the first week of our daughter’s life, but we tried to focus on the positive things: all of the doctors, nurses and hospital staff members were amazing; we had lots of sweet visitors once we convinced them the infection wasn’t contagious; I got to spend extra time with the hospital’s lactation consultant, and breastfeeding went extremely well; we ordered some delicious food from nearby restaurants; we got fresh air in the courtyard, where the azaleas were in bloom; and we used a ton of free diapers.

When it was finally time to go home Wednesday morning, I’d been up walking around the hospital for days, but the volunteers insisted on wheeling me out with Julie in my arms like all the other mamas. I’ll never forget all the smiles we got as we creaked down the halls and out the sliding doors into the sunshine.

The day my daughter was born was not the happiest day of my life. The day we busted out of that hospital was.

We're smiling because we get to go use our own bathroom.

Mollee and her husband, Matt, live in Midlothian, Virginia, with their daughter, Julie, and their two Chihuahuas. Formerly a graphic designer, Mollee now stays at home with Julie, but she still enjoys making things with her hands and blogging about them. Find her recipes, paintings and crafts at molleemade.com.

The result of my induction - Miss Seraphina

With a pregnancy fraught with complications (gestational diabetes and a blood clotting disorder), my OB uttered the dreaded “I” word pretty early.

Induction.

Have you ever Googled induction? It’s a smorgasbord of horror stories of 4 day long labors, emergency c-sections, NICU time for babies – especially for first time moms. You would think that no one had ever had a positive induction experience.

Well, I’m here to tell you that I thought my induction went pretty darn well and to tell you my story. I’m letting it all hang out here, so if you’re squeamish about the whole birthing process, or very long narratives, you may want to skip this one!

It was decided by myself and my OB that we would induce me right before 39 weeks (38 weeks, 5 days to be exact). Before my induction, my cervix was 80% effaced (thinned out) and soft, but not dilated at all. So, I would go to the hospital the night before my official induction date for them to place Cervidil, which is like a medicated tampon, against my cervix. The hope was that the Cervidil would prime my cervix even more, and hopefully dilate me a bit before starting Pitocin in the morning.

On the day I went into the hospital, I didn’t feel nervous. I went to a late lunch with my Mom and husband and felt pretty calm. Ready to not be pregnant anymore. I wasn’t even nervous checking into the hospital.

But, once I got into my room, it got real. I changed into my gown and I refused to sit on the bed while we were waiting for the nurse. Like, as long as I wasn’t in the bed, I could just keep being pregnant for a while. Which, I totally didn’t want but all of a sudden I was more afraid of the whole giving birth part! The nurse came in and I reluctantly got into the bed.

We talked about how the evening was going to go, hooked me up to the monitors, and attempted to insert my IV. She was having trouble finding a good spot – apparently my veins like to hide – and brought in another nurse to do it. The insertion went fine, but they placed it right where I would bend my wrist on top of my hand, so it was a little uncomfortable sometimes. But, no biggie.

Soon afterwards, the doctor came in to do a cervical check and insert the Cervidil. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a wimp about pain, but the insertion of the Cervidil was quite painful for me. But, cervical checks were always painful too, and I know some ladies can do those just fine. So, if you’re comfortable with cervical checks, I would guess that Cervidil insertion would be a piece of cake for you! Luckily, it only took a minute. But, I was weird and squirmy the whole time, despite my best efforts, and I was apologizing for being weird and the doctor was apologizing for the discomfort and everyone was just sorry for the experience!

Once the Cervidil was in, I didn’t feel much – I couldn’t really tell that it was there. I was required to stay in my bed for an hour to make sure I (or baby) didn’t have a weird reaction to the medication. After that, I could get up and go to the bathroom and even have dinner (I’ve heard that some hospitals won’t allow you to eat once you’re admitted, but mine let me eat until midnight).

So, I ate and hubby and I watched some TV until I was ready to go to sleep. They offered me a sleeping pill (Ambien), but I was kind of nervous to take it, since I had never taken a sleeping pill before. My mom, a former RN, recommended that I take it, so I did.

Unfortunately, for me, it didn’t do a thing!

I slept soundly for a couple hours, but woke up around 1-2am with uncomfortable cramping. I thought, “Ok, maybe I can sleep through this…”

Yeah, not so much!

The rest of the evening is kind of a blur. I started having what I later realized were contractions, along with terrible back pain. I woke up my husband and made him rub my back. I couldn’t get comfortable and kept messing up the fetal monitor on my belly by tossing and turning, so the nurse had to come in every 30-45 minutes to fix it. I tried, but just couldn’t stay still! I had heard of mild cramping with Cervidil, so I remember thinking, if this is just super easy contractions, how am I going to do this!? I found out later, based on the contraction monitor, my contractions during that night were just as strong as my contractions in “active labor” while on Pitocin, so that made me feel like not such a total baby!

Around 5am, the nurse came in and removed the Cervidil (another ouch!). I had to lay still for 10 minutes before I could get up and they may have been the longest 10 minutes of my life! My back was killing me. Finally, I got the ok to get up and take a shower. I felt much better after that! And, once the Cervidil was out, my contractions weren’t as strong or painful.

So, after a rough night, I was READY for my epidural. My stance on the epidural before labor was “Yes, please” and ASAP. I had asked the doctor the evening before about when I could get it, and he said that I could have it anytime I wanted – they wouldn’t make me wait until I was so-many centimeters along.

Shortly after my shower, the nurse started Pitocin and I asked about the epidural. She said I could have it anytime, but that it would be about an hour from the time I ask until I could receive it though, since they had to give me a certain amount of fluids through my IV before they call the anesthesiologist. Plus, I knew there were SEVEN ladies being induced that day and I didn’t want to be last in line for the epidural! I sheepishly looked at my husband, thinking that I was a big whiny baby for wanting it so early. But, I said the heck with it, and said I wanted it. She started the fluids.

About this time, there was a shift change, and I got the nicest nurse EVER. I wish she had been my nurse through my entire labor! Never underestimate the power of an amazing nurse.

After the fluids were done, the nurse called the anesthesiologist and he arrived pretty quickly. I still felt weird about it, since I wasn’t in any substantial pain at this point – nothing like the evening before! But, I knew that the Pitocin would be increased and I would definitely want pain relief before the rough contractions started!

Now, I know some ladies are nervous about the epidural. Honestly, I thought it was a piece of cake. The initial stick of the numbing needle did hurt a bit, but it only lasts a couple seconds and then I didn’t feel a thing. The placement was quick and easy. I was ready to be numb!

Except…

It didn’t work.

The nurse kept asking me if I could feel certain sensations on my legs (wet/cold) and I was feeling everything. One of my legs felt slightly tingly, but that was it.

I had a little panic moment – what if I was one of those women that the epidural just failed? How was I going to do this without my highly anticipated epidural!?

After 45 minutes, it was clear that the epidural just wasn’t working. The nurse was super reassuring and called the anesthesiologist. He came back and said that he wouldn’t recommend readjusting it, since, in his experience, it usually didn’t solve the problem. Instead, he decided to start all over again. For some reason, maybe because I already expected it, the stick of the numbing needle hurt even less.

And…that epidural started working right away!

Ladies – I’m here to tell you how AWESOME and WEIRD the epidural is. I expected to be totally numb from the waist down. Nope. I could feel when someone was touching me, but I couldn’t feel cold/wet sensations or pain. I kept telling my husband to pinch my leg because I couldn’t feel it! I did get the shakes, a common reaction to the epidural, but it didn’t bother me at all and I didn’t feel cold.

Finally, with the epidural in place, the doctor (another one from my same practice) came in to check my progress and break my water. I was 2 centimeters dilated – woohoo! And, the cervical check didn’t hurt in the slightest with the epidural. Then, she broke my water and the nurse got my catheter in place. Again, no pain at all.

Now, it was just time to wait and relax. The rest of the afternoon/early evening was spent talking to my mom and husband, light napping, eating sugar-free popsicles (due to my gestational diabetes), and keeping myself occupied.

Around 4pm, the doctor came in again to check my progress. I was 9 centimeters! Honestly, I was shocked. I was laughing and joking around with my family and my body was actually doing something productive that should feel like the worst pain ever!? Again, that epidural is amazeballs.

At 4:30pm, things got real. It was time to push. Two nurses came in and got my bed in the right position, helped me hold my legs, and told me when I was having a contraction so I could push.

I pushed. And, pushed. And, pushed some more.

“A Baby Story” lied to me – I thought I could push my girl out in 10 pushes or less. Ha! Definitely not.

With the two nurses and my mom and husband assisting, I pushed as hard as I could for an hour, making slow progress. At one point, the nurse decided to turn down my epidural medication – I think that was the incentive I needed to get this baby out ASAP!

For the record, I never felt ANY pain during pushing or birth. I could feel the pressure of the baby moving down, but no pain at all.

My doctor came in for the last 10 minutes or so. I kept pushing and then everyone yelled at me to stop – my girl was almost here! Her head had been in a weird position and she had finally turned it and my last push almost pushed her out before the doctor was ready! Everyone got on their splash gear (birth is messy business) and with one final push, our little girl arrived!

She was perfect.

The damage? A second degree tear. The doctor stitched me up while I held my baby girl and I never felt a thing.

In short – I was at the hospital for about 24 hours before she was born, including the overnight with Cervidil. I had painful contractions for a couple hours, but then got a fabulous epidural. Our girl’s heart rate during labor was great, so no scary moments there. And, I ended up with a vaginal birth. Not bad for an induction before 39 weeks for a first time mom with no dilation ahead of time!

So, there is my very long-winded, thorough induction story. It can be a scary proposition, but there ARE positive induction stories out there!

Jennifer and her husband, Robert, live in Tidewater, Virginia, and welcomed a beautiful baby girl named Seraphina on November 8, 2013. Besides expounding on the amazing/scary/life-changing topic of pregnancy, Jennifer is the full-time blogger behind Not Your Momma’s Cookie, where she tries to make cool treats and frequently shares embarrassing stories. 

Lucie

Natural childbirth has always been fascinating to me — there is something so beautiful about bringing forth life the same way millions of women around the world have throughout the ages. So when we became pregnant, I had already begun the mental and physical preparation that I imagined would eventually lead to a perfect, natural birth at a birth center. I had read all of Ina May’s books, watched The Business of Being Born, and had picked the brains of the other “natural mamas” that I knew. I was prepared!

Childbirth always goes exactly as we plan, right? For 39 weeks of my pregnancy, I was under the care of the midwives at a local birthing center. Our pregnancy was uncomplicated, and we were breezing past all of the milestones we needed to hit in order to deliver there. We had completed a natural childbirth course, were preparing with a doula, had meticulously written out our birth preferences in case of a hospital transfer, and had our bags packed and waiting by the door. But, as my mom regularly reminded me throughout those nine months, the first lesson of motherhood is that you can’t control everything related to your children, and our little one certainly had plans of her own.

At about 36 weeks, we realized that this baby was frank breech and wasn’t turning. Initially, I was disappointed, as a breech baby meant no birth center. So we tried everything — the chiropractor, an acupuncturist, and hours each day inverting myself while simultaneously attempting to bribe baby with music, flashlights, and frozen peas (really — Google it). I stayed hopeful until about 39 weeks, when I decided I needed to let go. As my midwife beautifully put it — it wasn’t my baby who needed to turn, it was me who needed to turn. Thankfully, we had a very wise doula who has complete belief in a woman’s body and in her natural ability to give birth. She suggested I research vaginal breech births — we needed to be informed consumers.

“…it wasn’t my baby who needed to turn, it was me who needed to turn.”

I remember coming home from work that afternoon almost in a daze — my “birth plan” was already changing, and I wasn’t even laboring yet! I spent my entire evening doing research, and we came to the conclusion that in the hands of a capable, trained professional, a vaginal breech birth is entirely safe and was definitely the route for us. Any medical causes for our breech baby were ruled out — our baby’s breech presentation was simply a variation of normal. Our research suggested that vaginal breech births are discouraged in mainstream obstetrics today — not because they are inherently riskier than cephalic presentation (head-down) births — but because birthing a breech baby is, sadly, a dying art that is not being passed down to the new generation of obstetricians.

Our research suggested that vaginal breech births are discouraged in mainstream obstetrics today — not because they are inherently riskier than cephalic presentation (head-down) births — but because birthing a breech baby is, sadly, a dying art that is not being passed down to the new generation of obstetricians.

My doula guided me to an incredible doctor who is known throughout our community for allowing (and supporting!) women to attempt natural vaginal breech births. I met with him on Monday, Nov. 26, when I was 39 weeks along, and I felt so safe, secure, and supported knowing he would be by my side that I had my baby under his care on Thursday, Nov. 29, one week early. The night I would begin active labor, I attended my prenatal yoga class and decided to resume my deep squats since I was now fully accepting of a breech birth and not worried about engaging something (an arm, a foot) too early. So squat away I did!

At about 3:30 the next morning I woke up with a “different-feeling” contraction — longer and stronger than the contractions I was having earlier in the week. I subsequently had four more of those contractions, each exactly 10 minutes apart. Remembering the 5-1-1 rule (contractions 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute each, for 1 hour), I called my doula and my doctor, then made myself some eggs, took a shower, and relaxed downstairs on the sofa.

The doctor called me back two hours later, and at that point the contractions were much longer, stronger, and less spaced out. He wanted us to come to his office so he could check me. I didn’t like this idea at first because I wanted to labor at home for as long as possible, but he had listened to me have some contractions over the phone, and I really think the man just knew. So we loaded up the car, and my hubby nervously drove to the office. And trust me, contractions in the car aren’t fun.

When the doctor checked me, I was at 5.5 cm and fully effaced, so it was time to go to the hospital. We were stunned — it became very real that our little one was going to be there that day. We arrived at the hospital at 8:05 a.m. (after hitting rush hour traffic — again, more fun-in-the-car-while-in-labor), and I labored pretty hard for two hours. Unfortunately, I only made a little progress — I was 7 cm when he next checked. Our agreement had been that I needed to make lots of progress pretty quickly; otherwise, we would need to have a C-section. Since I had only made 1.5 cm of progress in two hours, the doctor quietly and gently leaned over me and told me to prepare myself in case we had to change plans.

At that point, my husband, doula, and the incredible nurse I was blessed to have got me out of bed and kicked my butt into gear. (My two cents: stay out of bed as long as you can — get on a birth ball, get in the shower, squat, dance with your partner, just keep moving!). As soon as I stood up, I had four contractions back-to-back, each 75 seconds long. I then did four full-standing squats holding onto the bed until my water broke, which was totally encouraging and gave me new hope. Then, my support group got me up on the bed for more squatting, and literally between 10:05 and 10:35, I dilated the rest of the way — from 7 cm to a full 10 cm!

“…stay out of bed as long as you can — get on a birth ball, get in the shower, squat, dance with your partner, just keep moving!”

My doctor came back in the room, leaned over me once more, and grinned, “you proved me wrong — it’s time to have this baby the old-fashioned way.” With just a few pushes, her bum was out, followed by her little legs, one arm, then the next. A few more big pushes and lots of maneuvering by the doctor, and, after not even 30 minutes of pushing, little Lucie Renn was placed on my chest at 11:06 a.m. Actually, she was placed on my stomach — her umbilical cord was so short that she couldn’t reach my chest. That was the reason she was breech and wasn’t able to turn, reinforcing our “breech is a variation of normal” belief.

The feeling of her warm little slippery body on my stomach was the best feeling I’ve ever had, and ever will have, in my entire life. She came out with her eyes wide open, craning her neck to look up at me — and our hearts melted. Even though my birth experience was very different from the one I had been planning, I would not change a single thing about it. This was the way that Lucie needed to come into this world, and once I embraced that, I was able to have the most beautiful, special birth — even better than what I had imagined.

Am I encouraging every woman with a breech baby to attempt a vaginal birth? Of course not. I am, however encouraging every woman and partner to become informed consumers — know the risks, know the benefits, and make an educated decision for your family.