A Brief Birth Story

Fetal Intolerance to Labor.

That was the official diagnosis after 40 weeks and 3 days of gestation, going into labor naturally on a Wednesday – where I worked a half-day and went mall-walking that afternoon, followed by 8 hours of active labor at the hospital.

After a few hours, my midwife began observing what she thought may be late decelerations – in other words, the baby’s heart rate was dropping at the end of each contraction.  (Up to that point, I had been going the natural route – but once I was bed-bound, I chucked that plan out the window.)  By 4AM, I was dilated to 9 centimeters, but nonetheless my midwife let us know that she had to step away and call in the OB/GYN on call.  20 minutes later, Elizabeth Grace arrived via emergency cesarean section.  6 lbs, 6 oz, 18 inches long.  Perfection.

Obviously this wasn’t an ideal process – I’ve been offered condolences on the c-section by everyone ranging from friends and coworkers to my mother-in-law’s eight-year-old neighbor.  (Seriously.)  But the end result was a beautiful, healthy baby girl – and for that I can’t be disappointed.

Even after going through labor, I still can’t claim to know much about it.  But I’m so glad that I went into the process with and open mind and limited expectations.  I’m thrilled with the level of care I received, and the trusting relationship I developed, with the midwives I saw throughout pregnancy and during labor.  But I’m so thankful that those midwives practice out of a traditional OB/GYN office.  When Libby showed signs of distress, she was in good hands.  We’ll take the healthy arrival of our daughter via c-section over a perfectly executed birth plan, any day.

That said… c-section recovery is no joke.  So serious, in fact, that it deserves a post of its own.

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About stillarunner

I used to run. Some days, I even ran fast. Then I got a job. And met a boy. And bought a house. And rescued a dog. And rescued another dog. And went back to school. And created human life. I might not run every day, or even every week. There’s a good possibility that I will never be fast again. But I’m still a runner.
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