A Glimpse Into an Unmedicated 44 Hour Labor

Why did I go through 44 hours of unmedicated back labor just to get an epidural at hour 45?

Well, to put it shortly, going through 44 hours of unmedicated back labor is what made me get the epidural.

Going into my first birth with my now 18-month old, Willow, I had done countless hours of research and prep work to prepare myself for coping with the pain without an epidural or any medicated pain relief. All of that ended up going out the window after 44 hours of laboring naturally. I had looked into and practiced hypnobirthing, counter pressure, meditation, mindset shifts, and so many other coping methods, and truthfully? They all worked beautifully.

It was of course in hindsight that we found out I had not only been having back labor, (though I had a sneaking suspicion), but I had also gone through prodromal labor the day before I went into actual labor. Prodromal labor is also known as false labor, though I’m not entirely sure I agree with that phrasing, and is essentially a pre-labor for your body to get some extra prep in before the dilation really ramps up. I woke up in prodromal labor at 7 a.m. two days before my daughter was born, and had contractions every ~15 minutes and an unsettled stomach. Those were the first symptoms that labor was close, and my suspicions only grew stronger as my contractions got closer together and more intense. I knew I wanted to labor at home for as long as possible before going to the hospital, so my husband called out of work and we went about our day as normally as we could, starting by driving to Mcdonalds for an early labor mcgriddle. I ended up getting home and being able to sleep for a few more hours, then woke up at 2pm with some pretty intense contractions. By 4:30 pm, my mom had arrived and we were getting ready to head off to the hospital, with my contractions being a few minutes apart and my temperament being very focused and engaged, even between contractions.

The ride to the hospital was one of the worst parts of labor for me, because I found that I wasn’t able to cope as well in the car; apparently I am a very active laborer, sitting still was one of the worst things for me. Once we arrived and got checked in, (around 6:30 or 7), my heart sunk to my uterus to find out I was only 2 centimeters dilated. They told me they didn’t want to admit me yet, and wouldn’t consider it until I was at least 6 centimeters dilated, so they recommended I go home, which meant two more thirty minute drives for me to labor through. By this point the contractions were so intense. The doctor told me that everything about my temperament told him that I was in active labor - but I wasn’t.

I got to the car with my husband and mom and just broke down sobbing. I knew that if the contractions were this bad at only 2 centimeters dilated, there was absolutely no way I was going to make it through the unmedicated birth of my dreams, but deeper than that - I lost faith in every other woman, not understanding how any persons body could handle pain of this extreme, plus more. I remember telling my family that something wasn’t right, it wasn’t right, and that something wasn’t normal. This is when, looking back, I really think an ultrasound would have been extremely helpful because I would have been able to see how to better assist her into moving deeper into the birth canal. Up until this point her station had been negative three, meaning she was still really high up and not into the birthing canal yet. What I didn’t realize at the time is that she was sunny side up, meaning she was facing away from my spine rather than towards it, which can make her journey more difficult, therefore making my labor more painful. There are some positions I could have done to help her rotate so that she was facing my spine, but I wasn’t informed about her position, so I didn’t know how to help. Being left so uninformed by the doctors left me feeling like my body was just incapable of birthing my daughter, which is so far from the truth, and one of the reasons being informed is so incredibly important.

We ended up getting back home around 2 a.m., where I continued to labor silently, staring at my husband fully concentrated and enthralled by his eye contact, which helped me through each contraction. I was able to labor at home until around 8 a.m. when I had my bloody show and lost more of my (previously lost) mucus plug. The time I had at home for those few hours really feels like a blur to me because I remember just intentionally laboring, though the pain was no where near what it was when I went to the hospital, (another key sign that I had been experiencing intense prodromal labor rather than the “real thing”). I found my confidence brought back to life once realizing that I was doing this. I was laboring naturally and my body was capable, whatever happened the night before must have just been a crazy fluke. I now know that the crazy fluke goes by the term prodromal labor.

Once arriving back at the hospital, I got readmitted and the doctor came in to perform another cervical check. I thought certainly with the hours of contracting I had endured I had to have dilated to at least five or six centimeters. Well, it turns out I had dilated!!! To three centimeters. Three. Centimeters. Are you kidding me? The contractions had gone from every 2 or 3 minutes when I was in prodromal labor, back to around every 7 minutes when I got back home, and now they were every 3 or 4 minutes again. So I had been having around fifteen contractions an hour for the past 6 hours for my body to only be three centimeters dilated? This was all so confusing to my support team and I, doctors included, and they told me once again they couldn’t admit me, which I was okay with. At this point I was once again able to talk and be myself between contractions, and ended up speaking with a midwife who had come to check on me after the doctor left. I expressed my birth preferences to her and she was the first person within the hospital setting to be really encouraging and seem to have faith in my ability to birth my little girl. She told me that she recommended I go home so that I could best cope with the pain, but I really didn’t want to make that awful drive again. After talking with her, she very sweetly informed me that they could only check my cervix every 45 minutes, so she offered to “give me time to make a decision”, and told me that she’d just happen to come back in 45 minutes later and offer to check my cervix again - bless her. When she came back in and checked me, I was 7 centimeters dilated!! Crazy - I was treated with care and respect, felt heard and truly considered, and my body was able to relax and labor like I always knew it could.

From there, they finally admitted me and I was able to settle into my birthing space, both physically and mentally. I was getting back to the point of not speaking during or between contractions, but was able to cope through the pain with ease using the birth ball, counter pressure, and unexpectedly, hydrotherapy. My husband was constantly squeezing my hips between contractions, and only stopping to hold encouraging eye contact with me through contractions, to then return to hip squeezes immediately. He was truly the most supportive and I am truly looking forward to going through labor again with him by my side.

I unfortunately stalled for 12+ hours at 7 centimeters, which was disheartening, but manageable. At this point, my OBGYN began pressuring me because, and I quote, “It was starting to look bad for her to just let me sit in labor, stalled at 7 centimeters, her boss was going to start asking questions - therefore we would have to consider a c-section soon.” WHAT? Why? Because my body wasn’t operating on her schedule? Because my little baby wasn’t descending into my birth canal quickly enough for her? Yea, right. I was adamantly against the idea of a c-section at this point. I want to clarify that if my health or my daughters health would have been at any active risk, I would immediately consider a c-section, but not just to speed up the process. Hell no.

Out of desperation, I said what I could to hurry the medical staff out of my room, and continued to labor peacefully in my room until the contractions started to get nearly as intense as they had the night before. Once they started to get as intense as they had the night before, I ultimately decided to get the epidural. My reasoning, not that I need it, was that I had already been through the extreme labor pains the night before and my body wasn’t meant to go through that twice in two days. I felt like I had already proven to myself that my body could do it, I already did. All of the contractions I had been having still weren’t as bad as the previous night, which told me that I was perfectly capable, and I had nothing to prove to myself anymore - so I got the epidural.

This was a pretty seamless procedure and was successful for the most part. It ended up being placed in a way that only numbed my right half, which was enough relief to make me capable of relaxing, but still allowed me to feel every contraction which I was, and still am, so grateful for. I feel like I somehow ended up with the best of both worlds.

After I got the epidural, I was bed bound, which meant my opportunity of helping Willow descend with movement was over. My doctor came back in and was once again not happy with my progress, and I ended up hesitantly agreeing to having my membranes ruptured, aka they manually broke my water. Honestly, she was being insistent that I receive some kind of medical intervention - and at this point I really wanted her to leave me alone and let me labor, so I agreed to the most natural form of intervention I knew, which was breaking my water.

The rest of my labor was basically just the standard series of interventions - what doctors tend to leave out is that once you get one intervention, it seems like there is only time before you get another. I ended up getting given pitocin, which is a synthetic version of the contraction causing hormone, oxytocin, and happened to be one of the biggest “no-no’s” on my birth plan. By this time I had been in labor for 50+ hours, and was more willing to consider interventions, but the frequency at which my medical team was pushing them was frustrating then, and infuriating now. I had several concerns with pitocin that I was able to talk to my OBGYN about and she was able to offer answers that I felt okay accepting. So while it was informed consent, I still feel and felt like I was being pushed into the decision. They gave me one shot of pitocin and I was able to fall asleep for the first time since labor started thanks to the epidural, then they gave me a second shot of pitocin and left me to rest.

This is where the whole story really speeds up. A nurse came in and said to my husband, (because I was in a sleepy daze), that the doctor was going to come check my dilation status again. My husband asked the nurse what the chances were of me being dilated to 10 centimeters after just a couple of hours, and she said it wasn’t impossible, but it was highly unlikely. My doctor came in the room right on cue and consensually checked me. My eyes (which had remained closed this entire time) perked open when I felt her hand twist within me. I knew what that meant! It meant my cervix was fully dilated!! I think she saw that I realized it before she even said anything because she looked at me and kind of giggled, and excitedly said I was fully dilated and ready to push!

Now, you would think, “This is it! She made it through her labor! The doctors can’t control her birth anymore!”, and you’d be wrong. I told my doctor I wanted to labor down and hopefully allow for my body to execute the fetal ejection reflex, which is a crazy thing that I highly suggest educating yourself on. Basically your body decides it’s time for the baby to come out, and starts pushing without intentional effort from mom - it’s crazy. My doctor said she didn’t feel safe letting me do that since I had been in labor for so long already, and I was tired of having to push for what I wanted and was excited to meet my little girl, so I just agreed with her and got set up to push. My doctor said she would walk out while I got set up, and be right back - big mistake.

The nurses got me set up on the bed to push, I opted for a side lying position since I couldn’t stand due to the epidural, but I was very against back pushing. My team set up the ambiance I wanted - dim lights, music (though I don’t think we got the chance to mash play), warm compresses, a mirror aimed so I could see what was happening, and cameras set up. This is when my nurse offered me to do a practice push. At this point it’s worth noting that I really like to go big or go home, so when she offered for me to “practice”, I heard, “give me everything you’ve got!”, and that I did. It went from the nurse being impressed by my pushing, to her calling the nurses line and asking for the first available doctor to come to the room as soon as possible. A specific detail that always cracks me up is the memory of hearing my nurse request another nurse by name because she knew she was on break and not doing anything - that showed me just how urgently she needed people to get there, which ended up being more encouraging to me because I really like impressing people, and to me, pushing a baby out quickly is pretty impressive.

I was able to feel Willows head as she was crowning, which was an insane experience, and thanks to the half-effective epidural I was still able to feel each contraction to know when to push. I don’t even remember the doctor making it in there, all I remember is that at some point my dad arrived at the hospital and the last he had heard was that I was getting ready to push, not that I was pushing yet, so he got up to my room and mid-push throws the door open and jokingly exclaims, “Daddy’s here!!!”, and I looked at my nurse in a way that she immediately understood meant “get him out of here”. The next thing I remember is the final push where my beautiful girl came earthside and was placed on my chest. My whole world felt at peace. I felt complete. My husband - whom is not known for chill reactions, was immediately squealing and hyperventilating out of amazement and asked for the doctors stool to sit on because he felt like he was going to pass out - it was hilarious. Eventually he calmed down and we were able to be together as a family for a few minutes in peace, well, kind of. I hemorrhaged and had a second degree tear, so it wasn’t entirely peaceful, but I want to end the birth story here because this is how it ended in my mind. The rest feels like the start to a very hectic postpartum, but in the moments after delivering my little Willow, everything was perfect.