As March just rolled around and Spring has finally brought the warm sun to wash away the seasonal depressions, I have to leave behind one of the most important months of my life...
February has been a truly transformative month for me due to multiple reasons: One - I became a mom. Two - one of the most important people in my life has been birthed. And, reason number three - *I* birthed her!
Captured by Diafagure: https://www.facebook.com/Diafagure
As an Astrologer, I knew since the beginning that I'd have a vaginal birth, and that I wanted to avoid being induced. The reason for this was in part my desire to do things the natural way as much as possible. I don't like operations, so having a C-section was a big no-no for me. Furthermore, I knew inductions came with occasional complications, and who likes medical complications? And lastly, I did not want to assume any responsibility if my daughter came along years later and said: "Mom, why did you choose for me to have this placement in my chart if you could avoid it?". "I don't know my darling, I thought you'd appreciate having so much sensitivity in your chart!". But nope, instead of playing god, this time I wanted to let things fly their course. I had trust in the Universe and my daughter that she would come at just about the right time.
And so she did. But boy did she come in style!
At 39 weeks + 4 days I took my final exam (as a Psychology student, I was in the midst of a tiring exam session), and at 39 + 5 days I attended my maternity photo shoot, a last minute call to secure some memories in Diafagure's beautifully captured pictures.
When I arrived home the same day after the maternity shoot, I felt a sudden urge to take a nap. My body finally dropped the feelings of anxiety and stress, leaving behind a deep sense of peace which reminded me of the middle school years when summer holidays would come and I would leave school for the final time that year... I had no more exams, no more responsibilities. This was it. I could enjoy a break.
Until 4 hours later when I started to have cramps.
It was 8pm when I decided to get up from my nap and play a game of League of Legends. I recall winning the game, and going in the other room to brag at my husband. I told him I was happy I won the game, but that the period-like cramps were bugging me. He jokingly mimicked a panic stare, asking me "Ohh are we in labor yet?". "Nope, just the usual come-and-go period cramps!" I replied jokingly. Although I enjoyed scaring him that it was go time, this time I saved the fake contractions pain screaming for myself :)
Hours later, the clock was showing midnight as I was bouncing on the yoga ball. The cramping had become more intense, but it was still manageable. "I don't want to call it, but I might go into labor soon." I texted my girl friends group chat and my mom. The girls were excited, but I had a feeling it was not really go time so I told them not to get too excited.
My mom, however, who lives 3000km and 5 countries away, took 1 second to video call me in an obvious state of panic.
"Should I buy plane tickets, is it happening?" she was smiling so wide, almost hyperventilating from the nervousness of it all. "Never mind, I'm looking at WizzAir right now." I could practically see her finger moving by the camera before she frowned appalled. "No tickets from Birmingham?? We'll have to drive to London and fly from there..."
"Mom, it could be a false alarm." I interrupted her, rolling my eyes. I made sure the camera did not capture it. Adult or not, you can't piss your mom off at any age. "Contractions can come and go, it's no guarantee that I will give birth soon."
"Soon or not, my labor with you was only 3 hours long and it started with period pains!" she was basically penetrating the screen with her excited gaze, I thought she was about to pop off the screen and yeet me into the car. "I have a feeling you will give birth tonight".
I conversed with her some more, sharing experiences about her own labor with my brother and I. I found that in the final days it helped me to hear other people's birth stories, so I often asked them about their experiences. It helped to - one - feel prepared and know what to expect and two - know to expect nothing because all stories were basically all different from each other!
"But what are you going to do?" she interrupted my train of thoughts.
"What do you mean?" I asked puzzled. She was still regarding me with that nervous, but excited look. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she was talking:
"You said something is at 29 degrees and that you do not want to give birth today!"
She was right. Venus was in Pisces, the zodiac sign Venus is exalted in. However, it was at 29 degrees that day, bringing the whole meaning of a healthy planet to a halt. With a Cancer Retrograde Mars already rolling in the sky, I did not want my daughter to have a tough experience in love, or with the energy of love. I wanted her to love herself, and to have a healthy relationship later on in life. As people with Venus at 29 degrees often face challenges with this planet due to their tendency towards extreme idealisation and infatuation with unrealistic or unfit partners. Cancer Mars was already a sign of great sensitivity, I did not need her to be emotionally lost in relationships and struggle in the love department.
"Yes, Venus" I acknowledged her comment, kind of surprised she remembered my Astrology observation. "But Venus enters Aries at 10am this morning. I'm pretty sure I won't give birth before then, so we should be safe".
Mom appeared skeptical at that comment, but said nothing else. Instead, she gave me lots of virtual kisses and asked to be updated with whatever happened. Little did she know the next update would be a picture of her granddaughter in the morning...
It was 1am when I wrapped up the call with mom. Just as I put the phone down, I realised that the cramps were no longer a continuous background pain, but were turning into contractions, more intense pains that came and went. Still jumping on the yoga ball, I recalled my midwife Gina's comment: "Lorena, if you go into labor at night, call me when you have the contractions 10 minutes apart. It gives me time to drink my coffee before I leave for the hospital". I did not believe I was in labor yet, but I knew I had to be mindful of this woman's ritual. The first challenge was here: ensure you know you are truly in labor before waking this woman up... and two, make sure you call her before it's too late. I made a calculated decision and I finally texted her, just in case she was not sleeping:
"Hey, I have some irregular contractions, just fyi. I'll call if they get consistent."
"Great, monitor them and try to get some sleep. If they're regular and you can't sleep through them, call me". Her reply came in quick, which got a sigh of relief out of me. I was not alone and, more importantly, she was not sleeping!
That being said, we shut all the lights and went to bed. As I sat down, I felt both excited and a little anxious. And then... it was right as I closed my eyes that I discovered the contractions were stepping it up in intensity. Actually, they were not intense. For the love of God, I could barely breathe through them, let alone get some real sleep.
"Shoot", I cussed between my breaths as the realisation hit. "It's happening."
My husband was regarding me attentively, in contrast with the panicky reaction he joked he would have. His face was stern, gaze ready for battle. "Let me get the bags", he nodded towards me. "You start timing them".
I went to the bathroom to get my eyebrows done - there was no time for a full face of make-up but I sure as hell did not want to meet my daughter having no brows on my face. Timing my contractions in between drawing eyebrows and applying mascara, I glanced at the screen and cussed once again. I began to mumble, then screamed across the apartment: "They are 8 minutes apart!"
It was only 40 minutes since I talked to the midwife however, so I decided to wait a few minutes more to see if the contractions were indeed consistent or not. Remembering the comment Gina made about drinking her coffee, I start to consider all coffee places that worked 24/7 on our route to the hospital because I sure as hell did not respect the one rule she gave me about laboring at night and the woman was soon going to be called to come to the hospital caffeine deprived. If I had her come at the hospital with no coffee, the least I could do was provide it myself.
20 minutes later I glanced once again at the contraction timing app. Not only were the contractions consistent but they were getting closer together - to be specific, they were 6 minutes apart. The realisation hit again:
I am in labor, I will give birth soon, I haven't called my midwife yet, and Venus is still at 29 degrees for 7 more hours! My mom was, once again, right. I was about to give birth that night. My husband finished up the packing, I called Gina (who told me to go to the hospital), and before we knew it, we were on our way.
I was noticing how beautiful the city was at night, with no cars on the street or people rushing to get to their business. It felt like a pause in time to look around me, at my husband who was calmly driving and reassuring me through the contractions. "You got this." he said, holding my hand. "We only have 5 minutes left and we'll be there. That's basically only one set of contractions before we arrive."
That was right. My contractions were already 4 minutes apart at this point, the distance between them was going down in a classic, linear y = -x function. This made me both excited (my labor was progressing) and nervous (I wanted to get an epidural and knew that the contractions being too close to each other meant the anaesthesist may not be able to administer the epidural.
However, my dreams quickly got crushed when I arrived at the triage section and the (very sleepy) on-call doctor checked my cervix.
"You are not dilated at all" he said, frowning at my spread legs. Are you sure you're having contractions?
I thought the planet was about to rupture into two halves and that I would fall right in the middle of it.
"Are... are you sure? It hurts like hell."
I was prepared to get the "maybe you have low pain tolerance" comment, but I think something on my labory face said don't you dare say that or I'll become your biggest 3am problem.
He seemed to pause before speaking, then conceded. "We usually don't allow people in when they are in this phase. But... do you live far away?"
It only took me 15 minutes to get there but morning traffic would have caused a different result 3 hours later.
"If I come back later it will take me 1 hour to get here. I have painful contractions 4 minutes apart..." I mutter hopelessly just as a contraction interrupted my words.
The doctor seemed puzzled by my reaction to the contraction, but finally shrugged.
"Ok, ok, let's get you admitted", he said nervously. "But... just so you know - it will take some time before you give birth".
It took me a great amount of self-restraint to not roll my eyes but thanked him and made my way to the reception to get signed in. Gina was already there, waiting for me, and I felt a huge sigh of relief knowing I was not alone and that my team was here.
As we walked into the hospital room, she provided me with medication that would help soften the cervix. "Take this", she said determined. "We'll check you again in some time to see what the progress is." And then we were left alone.
We quickly established a routine where I would walk around the room singing, and when a contraction would hit, I'd yell for my husband to come push on my lower back. It helped well to reduce the pain, although it still felt overwhelming due to the lack of sleep we were both experiencing at this point. We kept doing this until 6 am, when I found myself calling my midwife. By this point I was mentally overtired and frustrated by the increasing pain and lack of dilation progress.
"You have to come in and check my cervix" I pleaded, barely recognising my voice. "Contractions are 3 minutes apart, I refuse to believe I am not dilated at all".
And I want that freaking epidural now, I thought, but bit my tongue.
Luckily enough though, just a few minutes later I was watching a smiling Gina as she was checking my cervix.
"Great news! That's 3 cm right there", she declared. "We can get you on an IV then send you upstairs to get the epidural!"
A sudden wave of relief filled me as I was hearing her words. I did not wish to complain too much, but the fact that I heard only stories and convinced declarations from doctors that intense contractions always imply having some dilation led me to feel disheartened and like my body was doing it all wrong. This, combined with the tiredness, led me to feel stressed and disconnected from my body.
But now, this was it. My body was getting on board. And I was about to get some good juices to numb the pain in a minute.
"By the way..." Gina interrupted my train of thoughts. "When do you want her to arrive?"
It took me a moment to understand her question.
"I don't know", I replied. "Whenever she wants to come? But I hope it's after 10."
"How so?"
I shrugged, but was happy to provide the explanation. I usually don't like talking about Astrology with people whose interest in this topic is unknown to me. People usually judge me when I talk about it, as it's a deeply misunderstood practice - especially in Romania. But looking at Gina, she seemed genuinely curious. So I didn't hesitate to explain.
"Venus is at the last degree until 10 am. I just don't want her to have issues in love, so it'd be perfect if she came after 10."
Gina smiled at me warmly, taking me by surprise with her maternal presence and warmth. For a second there, I felt like hugging her. But a contraction hit.
"Ooh... another one's coming!"
"That's okay, let me help", she said as she pushed on my lower back. "And don't worry", she added. "We'll get you an epidural at 7, get you pushing by 9, and baby will be here just at the right time! Sounds like a plan?"
"Aye! I like that plan."
After the IV hit, Gina and I went upstairs to get ready for the epidural procedure. I was nervous, as my contractions were so close together that I could barely breathe through them. The anaesthesist came by, and she informed me that I was not to move at all. If I had a contraction, I had to suck it up, breathe through it and - most importantly - not move at all.
That was not scary. At all.
But just as I was about to get into position, chin into my chest, back exposed, I hear the anaesthesist sigh in surprise.
"How big is your scoliosis?"
That's right. I have scoliosis, a medical condition where the spine is curved. I already knew this would be a potential issue, as a curved spine can make it harder to find the right spot to insert the needle and apply the aneasthetic. However, being the optimist that I was, I never considered this would be a true issue for me. Because... why would it be?
However, it quickly became an issue. The doctor tried for 20 minutes to find the right spot and she was not successful. By some miracle of God, I was able to hypnothise my brain into believing I was safe and that I should not feel contraction pains anymore, as I was not to move during the procedure (would have been great if this hypnobirthing thing worked earlier when I was yelling at my husband to push harder on my back to avoid scaring the poor man to death). However, the fact that the doctor was punching the needle in my back like I was some coloring book made me face an unexpected scenario: I might have to give birth unmedicated.
Just as the terrifying though hit, I heard the doctor sigh exasperatedly and address someone else in the room.
"Do you want to try?"
Glancing back, I saw they had called another doctor in. Now, being intuitive, I knew I felt something off about the first anaesthesist, but I had brushed it off to my nerves. But now, on the contrary, looking at the second doctor, I knew he would get it right.
And he did. First try, I felt the whole room sigh of relief, and Gina (who I just now noticed she was holding me so strongly), started praising me. "You did so good, Lorena. There we are."
When the epidural hit, I felt the tears about to stream down my face. Of pain, of relief, of happiness, and overwhelm. I couldn't believe that it worked. And that the pain was not there anymore. In the midst of IV cocktails, tiredness, and excitement, I felt like a baby about to bawl.
And then my husband entered the room wearing scrubs.
"Look how cool I look!" he exclaimed, full joy radiating from his face.
He has always been fascinated with the medical field, and at some point even toyed with the idea of going to medical school. Looking at his innocent excitement made me beam with pride.
"You do look very cool!" I affirmed. "Blue is totally your colour!"
We laughed some more, told him what he missed (just me having an existential crisis that the epidural would not have worked), and got to sleep a little bit.
However, it was about half an hour later when Gina woke me up.
"Lorena, please don't panic. But we can't get a hold of your OB."
Her face was stern, but she also seemed... concerned? Scared? I wanted to empathise with her, connect with her, but there was only one thought in my mind.
This epidural is so dope, I could literally give birth alone now. Y'all can leave, I don't need no OB!
Luckily, the thought stayed in my mind as I brought back my judgement and asked:
"Maybe his phone is on silent? It's still morning time."
She was shaking her head.
"No, this is not like him. He always comes, I'm really concerned."
"I'm sure he is okay", I replied. "And as for me, I don't mind giving birth with anyone available."
Just not the on-call doctor, LOL.
I was just trying to reassure her, although looking back... I did want my OB there. We had built a strong rapport throughout the 9 months that have passed, and he was a person I could trust. Him not being there would have been just another thing that would've gone against my plans or what I had in mind for my birth. However, I tried to detach from any outcome at this point and to preserve my energy. My daughter was about to come.
We didn't have to worry or wait too much, though. My OB arrived just 30 minutes later, getting a sigh of relief from everyone in the room. After scolding everyone for being more panicky than his wife, he came to see me.
"Mrs Costin, how are you doing!!" he asked excitedly.
"You know, doc... Just ready to have a kid." I smiled warmly at him. "This epidural is great too." This had to be mentioned again.
"That's awesome. Can we get you to walk around for a bit?" he asked, then looked at my husband, his face suddenly changing to a more serious tone. "And you hold her. Make sure she doesn't fall to the ground."
My husband looked startled at the idea that I could fall to the ground, but I patted his back reassuringly.
"It's ok, bud. I'll let you know if I feel like fainting."
We took a few laps around the labor & delivery floor, taking in the (not so exciting) white walls and elevators. After some time, I was starting to feel my body getting ready to push, despite the epidural numbing all of the pain. This led me to feel that I would not have issues pushing, and that I had control over the pelvic muscles.
Sometimes, it does become an issue that mothers need to be coached through pushing when they have the epidural, as they don't feel the pressure or control over the muscles in the area. Knowing intuitively that my body could do this, I felt reassured that we were going to be okay.
"I'm thinking of letting your epidural run out a bit", said Gina later after finishing what was probably the 50th lap of the floor. "So you can push effectively."
I immediately shook my head.
"I can do it with the epidural, you need to refresh my dose once it runs away."
She seemed to doubt it, but my OB eventually intervened and gave her the green light to give me another dose. Another sigh of relief escaped. If I was collecting a penny for each of these I'd be a millionaire by this point.
Another hour passed, and it was time to push. I was fully dilated, pressure was good, ready to push at 9:45 am. Without adding too much detail, I will say it was an incredible experience, although overwhelming, and that baby girl arrived just under an hour later.
She came from a weird angle due to her position in the womb, so she was in a lot of distress and had meconium right before coming out. As her heart rate was dropping, she needed to be sucked out and I needed an episiotomy too.
Seeing her cry for the first time on my belly was one of the most beautiful memories in my life which I will cherish forever. What I will not cherish though, is the overwhelming feeling of sadness when she was taken away for oxygen - she was supposed to stay with me, but due to the traumatic way she came out, protocol said she needed to be taken away to the intensive unit for monitoring, light, and oxygen.
The moment I first held my daughter <3
I was sobbing. I was sobbing due to the pain of the expulsion, the emotional overwhelm of doing something that felt incredibly hard, the recurrent fear of my body not doing the thing that doctors expected it to be doing. But most importantly, I was sobbing because my daughter was not with me, and I felt she was ruptured from me. My body held her for 9 months, and suddenly she was not here anymore. That thought destroyed me.
We did get to see her, however, a few hours later, and I got to hold her and breastfeed her later at night. Knowing that she was safe and finally in my arms, although a few hours later, finally brought me some peace and allowed us to bond.
The journey to motherhood so far has revealed to me that I have an insane amount of love that was not yet showing, but that I am also more powerful than I thought. I can't wait to see her grow, to build a relationship with her, as I will cherish every single moment with her - yes, even these frustrating witching hours when she fusses and cries like it's the end of the world. Because I know that even in the moments of hardship we come out stronger, more resilient, and that we do so fuelled by the never-ending source of unconditional maternal love.
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