Nicole’s Birth Story
We are so honored to share birth stories on the Enriched Birth™ blog. Familiarizing our audience with birth and how differently it can be experienced by each birthing parent is something we care deeply about. We share these stories in their original form so that they reflect the feelings and voice of the authors. Sometimes birth is ecstatic, peaceful, positive, and joyful. Sometimes birth is painful, difficult, and disappointing. But birth is always raw, always incredible, and always personal.
Our goal as childbirth educators is to give expecting parents the information, tools, and resources to feel empowered and thereby have a more positive experience - even when their birth does not go as hoped. Birth can not be controlled, but as you’ll read in many of these stories, the availability of consistent support and informed decision making are such important aspects of a birth experience.
Thank you for reading!
Nicole is pictured above receiving support from her spouse while laboring in a hospital birthing tub
I woke around 6am, starving. I started to roll myself out of bed, and as soon as I sat upright, I felt a gush. I assumed I just didn't make it to the bathroom in time. This wouldn't be the first time since I've been pregnant. I stood and felt another gush. I woke my husband and told him I was pretty sure my water broke. He said, "It’s probably just pee again." I texted my birth photographer, girlfriends, my mom, and my doula (in that order...because, priorities), then called my midwife.
I washed and twisted my hair, ate breakfast, and walked the dog...no contractions. A few hours passed, and my midwife and doula both called to check on me and told me it wouldn't be long. LIES! I felt fine, just a little tired. I convinced my husband that I could drive alone, dropped the dog at daycare, and got a prenatal massage and had the labor inducing pressure points stimulated. I had contractions during the drive home, but I had been feeling pretty awful contractions for the past two weeks. These definitely didn't feel like what I thought labor would be. So, I walked some more, but it was mid-August, and like 100 degrees outside.
12 hours after my water broke, and still no other signs of labor. My midwife told us to be at the hospital by 7am so they could make sure baby wasn't in distress and still had fluid. She also let us know that I may have to be induced. I spent the night bouncing on the big blue ball, doing hundreds of squats, and thinking about holding my baby. At the hospital, I walked the halls, did squats, got in the shower, and the birthing tub. After 36 hours, I talked with my midwife, my husband, and my doula, and finally decided to allow the induction. I started a Pitocin drip, and demanded to be given the lowest possible dose.
I remember someone trying to discuss options: increase the Pitocin (a synthetic drug used to start and/or increase contractions) or risk needing a c-section. Our vitals were fine, the baby wasn’t in distress, and I decided to trust my body and my gut. I pressed on. I told the nursing staff to check my blood pressure and the baby’s heart rate hourly. One of the nurses told me to let them do their job. I remember telling them that nurses around the country do their jobs, but black women and babies still die. So, check my blood pressure and the baby’s heart rate hourly, which is the medically accepted standard in these situations. My husband says I was very demanding, but he supported each and every demand I made. I remember being in sort of a weird space between alert, dazed, and terrified.
The last thing I remember clearly is the moment that I felt the transition phase begin. I immediately began filling in my eyebrows and telling my husband to remember to take off my earrings in case I had to get an emergency c-section, and to put them back on before our baby saw me for the first time. My doula helped me manage pain. I’ve been told that I may have cursed out a nurse for attempting to check my cervix. And I yelled at everyone to stop the *insert tons of cuss words* Pitocin drip.
On Aug. 10, 2017, at 10:12 a.m., after a stage 3 episiotomy (a cut to the perineum by the OB or midwife - this is only used in rare cases and is no longer a routine procedure) due to severe shoulder dystocia (where baby’s shoulder gets stuck behind the pubic bone after its head is delivered - this is rare and can often be managed without an episiotomy), Miss Marley Amara joined us on this side of the womb. Pregnancy was awful. Labor was horrible, but also the most beautiful and amazing experience I’ve ever had. If I could give birth again, (without having to be pregnant and care for a newborn) I'd totally do it!
While my episiotomy was being repaired, I nursed my baby for the first time. We were enjoying “the golden hour.” Then a nurse checked my blood pressure (per my every hour on the hour instructions) and noticed that my pressure had been consistently elevated for a while. She also checked my urine for protein. I was diagnosed with postpartum preeclampsia, with severe symptoms. My kidneys started to stop functioning. Treatment needed to begin immediately. Due to side effects from the medication, I wasn’t able to hold my newborn for 24 hours. My limbs felt like cement blocks and I could barely move. I couldn’t walk. But I also had to push fluids as part of the treatment.
Because of the episiotomy, I refused a catheter. Because who the hell is allowing anyone else to touch their swollen and recently cut then sewn vagina. The male OB told me that I didn’t have a choice. I told him to push a human out of his penis, have it cut open, and sewn back together. Then he could tell me about my choices. On his way out he declared that he’d be back because I wouldn’t be able to urinate enough on my own. With the help of my husband and amazing postpartum nurses, I drank a ton of water, and they lifted me up to use a bed pan every 30 minutes to spare my vagina any additional trauma. By the next morning, all my preeclampsia test came back negative and I was on the mend. That same night, my baby stopped breathing and turned blue. I screamed for help while simultaneously flipping her around and hitting her back (who knew I had that in me!). Doctors and nurses swarmed in, got her breathing again, and checked her vitals. I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep again until three or four days later. I spent every waking moment waiting for her to stop breathing again, because what if I had missed it the first time, right? It never happened again, and she’s been perfectly fine since.
I struggled with postpartum depression for the first 2 years. I’m happy to be on the other side of that mountain. We recently celebrated my daughter’s third birthday. We are all happy, healthy, and thriving. I am forever grateful to my doula, and my friends, and the most supportive partner, ever. Despite the challenges of my birth and postpartum experiences, I was able to make informed decisions based on information I learned before delivery. The support people I had with me during delivery were exactly who I needed and empowered me to trust my judgment in the moments that mattered most.
You can follow Nicole Johnson, Esq., MSW on Instagram @trusted_legal_dc
or at her website, www.trustedlegaldc.com