Be forewarned: this is a birth story. These things aren't always pretty. So if you want to read about magical fairies and unicorns you aren't going to get it here.
As my due date approached I decided to talk to my midwife about the possibility of inducing me. After giving birth to a TEN POUND Grant baby, I had psyched myself out that I could do it again. I realized despite how smooth and well Grant's birth happened, I still felt a little shock and trauma from the incident and wanted to give birth to a little nine pounder...(insert eye roll). It worked out perfectly for her because she was about to go on vacation, so we set it all up.
On January 25th I curled my hair so pretty, put a little makeup on, packed my bags, and arrived at the hospital ready to be induced. It was kind of surreal to know that I was in charge and it felt a tad empowering.
Soon I was hooked up to the pitocin drip, had my IV, and was ready to go. 2 hours later at 11 a.m. my midwife made her appearance and broke my water. I don't think anyone was prepared for the gush! Both the nurse and midwife jumped and we all laughed.
Then things became intense faster than I expected. I swear the pitocin started messing with my head. When I gave birth to Grant my water broke a bit, and I walked calmly into the hospital already dilated to a nine. As this birth progressed I was feeling the stress of my car accident on my back, and the intensity of the pitocin was making my contractions much stronger than I had prepared for mentally.
Keith sat and watched X-men until I begged him to turn it off and help me. I think he had assumed, as I had also, that my delivery would be a walk in the park like Grant's had been. I couldn't catch a decent breath because I had become so swollen from the pregnancy and I couldn't focus on my meditation tracks for the life of me.
The midwife stopped in and seemed to be pleased to announce I was at a six. I was flabbergasted because I felt like I must have been at a nine. I begged the nurse to turn off the pitocin. She warned me that it could stop labor and we finally conceded to dropping the level to a minimum. Within 10 minutes I was demanding that she turn it off. I was in labor and pitocin or no, my body was preparing to do this. She and I fought about it for a few minutes but finally she turned it off.
The intense labor continued, without the pitocin.
About 30 minutes later the midwife stopped in again to see how I was doing. She checked me and said calmly I was at an eight and 90% effaced. It was then that I lost it. Because I had come in with Grant at a nine and labored for another hour and a half, I thought that I had two more hours of painful contractions in front of me.
I began to cry but tried to hold it together. I tried to focus on my counting contractions and the meditation tracks.
My blood sugar levels were already low and within minutes I was shaking with weakness. I couldn't see straight and I started to sob. I told Keith that I couldn't do it anymore, that he had to fix this. My temperature skyrocketed. I shut down mentally, and although I tried to pull myself together I couldn't bare the thought of continuing on for hours in this state. I was sure I would pass out at any moment. Keith and the nurses piled cold ice packs on me and tried to encourage me and I felt too weak to even breathe through a contraction.
I was scared I didn't have it in me to do this. But that wasn't even an option.
A few minutes later the pain became unbearable. People were telling me to breathe, and to relax, and I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside like some evil scene in Alien.
I couldn't do this for hours. I couldn't do this for hours.
I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't be at an eight for hours.
Then I felt the urge to push.
In that moment I had never felt so alone. Not one person coached me. Not one person told me to get ready. No-one even mentioned that he was coming out and that the end was near. All I knew was that I was at an eight. I needed to be at a ten to push. Right?
I had hours in my mind still to go and I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't.
I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I crossed my legs. I couldn't do it.
And then things happened so fast and painful that all I could do was scream like a crazy lady. I don't think I've screamed like that since Lily was born and the shock of what was happening scared unprepared, bloated me.
This was NOT how my beautiful hypnobirthing labor was supposed to go.
Before I understood what was happening I remember a LOT of pain and then heard an infant cry and went into complete shock.
My body began shaking. They tried to hand me my sweet newborn and all I could do was shake my head no, and continue sobbing and shaking. Blankets were thrown on me. I had gone into complete shock. Keith's presence calmed me down by reminding me it was over again and again.
And then, they placed him in my arms. Immediately my heart rate steadied, my shaking stopped and I knew it was finally over.
He had arrived and he was SO beautiful.
8 lbs. 8 oz. and 21 inches.
I was shocked to see how much he looked like Lily. After two BIG boys that looked like Kahmann babies, it was quite a surprise to have a little boy that looked more like me.
I was so happy to have him!
As I returned to a semi normal state of mind Keith lifted up his phone and with a big grin blasted out Queen's "We Are the Champions." We all laughed and I apologized for losing it to all the nurses in the room as I snuggled little Cort closer to my chest.
Welcome little Cort Vaughn Kahmann! (If you say it with a German accent he sounds like a cute little fancy German villain. If you say it with a British accent he sounds like he could give James Bond a run for his money.)
Cort (German name meaning) = Courageous and honest advisor
Vaughn (Welsh name) = Little
Kahmann (German) = Awesomest family ever
