I was never the type of woman to have a detailed birth plan. Nothing was typed up with details and charts. I didn’t make a playlist of songs. I didn’t pack essential oils or a massager. My goal was literally just to have a healthy baby and survive labor.
I remember the nurse asking, “And what’s your birth plan?”
I quipped back, a little sarcastically, “To have a baby,” feeling slightly superior to those women who walk in with a detailed plan. Me? I’m chill. I’m easy. I’m not going to make anyone’s job harder. See how easy I am?
I knew I wanted to avoid a c-section (if possible) and to have an epidural, but other than that, I put all my trust into my L&D team and wanted to follow all of their instructions.
Eyes on the prize: a healthy baby and just making it out the other side in one piece.
With my first child, everything went fairly smoothly. My water broke at home, I went to the hospital at about 3 cm dilated, and I got my epidural at 6 cm (God bless that anesthesiologist). I rapidly progressed to 10 cm in less than an hour, and I pushed for about 30 minutes. I was joking and chatting in between pushes. Healthy baby, healthy mom.
So with my second, my “birth plan” was essentially the same. Get my epidural during active labor but before the transitional stage and push that baby out.
Unfortunately, life had other plans. We called for the anesthesiologist when I was about 5 cm dilated. I heard my nurse on the phone with him, and he said he’d be right there. About 2 minutes later, I heard a code over the hospital PA. My nurse looked a little frantic and stepped out to make a phone call. When she came back in, she had a very practiced, blank look on her face.
“Okay, so the anesthesiologist just got called into an emergency. He’s not going to be able to come see you. But don’t worry, we’ve called in someone else. They’re coming in from home. She’ll be here shortly.”
But my baby didn’t want to wait. Having ZERO plans for a natural birth, I never practiced any relaxation techniques. The only thing I knew was from what I’d seen on TV – just try to breathe. As I sweated and moaned and cried and breathed, the nurse kept calling the CRNA to see when she’d be there.
My sweet, patient nurse, Portia, grabbed my face at one point, looked me in the eye, and said, “Look, I’m 95% certain you are going to get this epidural. But I need you to start mentally and emotionally preparing for that 5% chance that you don’t. You can do it, either way. Millions of other women have done it. You are just as strong as them. You can do it.”
My eyes got huge and tears ran down my cheeks. “I know I can do it, but I just don’t want to.”
Finally, the CRNA was there! She practically sprinted into my room and set up. But after about 10 minutes of trying, she just couldn’t get the epidural. My doctor checked me and said, “I’m sorry, but you’re ready. We’ve got to do this.”
I started sobbing. This isn’t what I planned! (But no birth plan, right? I’m too chill for a birth plan. Ha.) But again, my nurse pushed my hair back and leaned over me, whispering, “You can do this. You can do this.”
In between pushes and the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt, I cried but kept telling myself aloud, “I can do this. I can do this. I don’t have a choice. I can do this.”
And – spoiler alert – I did. I came out the other side alive, in one piece, with my healthy baby. But I’m traumatized by it. I joke about it now with my husband and friends, about how “I could do it but didn’t want to,” but the truth is, it was horrific. Even now, a month out, when I look at my daughter, my heart rate picks up and I start sweating a little bit, remembering what we went through together.
I wasn’t prepared. And it wasn’t because I didn’t have a birth plan.
I never even considered doing it naturally. I hadn’t learned any techniques. I didn’t mentally prepare myself for it. I’m scarred from my delivery, and I don’t mean physically. I know there are so many women who have their babies naturally, whether by choice or necessity. I just never considered that I could be one of them.
A lot of times, we talk about labor and delivery being this magical, natural, and emotional experience, but for some of us, it’s traumatic. It’s scary. It’s raw. It’s unexpected. And there isn’t any shame in that. Not everything about being a mom is magical and lovely; a lot of it can be scary, raw, or unexpected.
If I could give some unsolicited advice to any pregnant mamas out there, it would be to prepare for the unexpected; pay attention during birthing classes when they talk about how to breathe and focus but distract yourself at the same time. And remember, you can do it, even if you don’t want to.
