As a labor and delivery nurse, you can imagine I do a lot of educating. Childbirth, whether you’re a first-timer or an old veteran, can differ with each baby and so the questions that are asked, differ too. I like educating. I like helping. I like being able to offer assurance and answer questions whenever the situation allows me. I like being able to use my own experience to help my laboring families.
But there is one question that I just hate getting asked. The question that inevitably rears its ugly head every so often and I dread answering every time is – “Did you get an epidural?”… And the reason I hate it so much is because 9 times out of 10 it’s a conflicted woman in agony who’s asking me. And the decision to treat one day of pain holds way too much weight in the world. My labor doesn’t matter right now… today is your day! Depending on the patient and the circumstance … my answer varies.
The truth is, No, I didn’t get an epidural … or any pain medication for that matter. And yes, even more ridiculously, I planned it that way. Why? I really don’t have a good answer. The best I can come up with is that I have control issues, LOL. Not having control over the lower half of my body or being aware of my every stage of labor was unsettling to me. Weird, I know. I also come from a family of strong women who also birthed un-medicated and that’s what I was brought-up to expect. Epidurals are safe, they don’t drug your baby and they seem lovely. Ninety-five percent of my patients get them and a mere fraction-of-a-percent experience any complications from them. In short, it’s a great option that I simply decided not to take.
If I admit to birthing un-medicated the next question I get is, “How did you do it?” And my response is always, “Anyone can do it”. We all have the capability of withstanding that level of pain. It’s much more a matter of whether or not you can maintain self-control AND whether or not you want to. I often times tell my patients “This is your day. This is a story you will tell for the rest of your life. Make it a good one!” I had a wonderful experience birthing my children un-medicated. Some women who go un-medicated hate it, are out-of-control and feel traumatized. They should’ve gotten epidurals …. because plenty of women do and have great stories to tell. There is no absolute truth when it comes to pain management in childbirth. Every woman, every baby, every labor is different.
But how really did I do it? Well, first, let me say I had good labors. I make small babies. I have a high pain tolerance and I had a wonderful support system. And luck of course …every good outcome always has a smidgen of good luck! From very early on in my pregnancy, I committed to the idea that an epidural wasn’t available. However, I also understood that if at any time my baby or my labor decided to take a different path that my plan would have to be re-negotiated. An openness to change translates to an openness of the mind and body. Close-minded people never labor well – twelve years of experience and I can tell you that for sure!
Now if you want the specifics, I don’t carry any magic advice. I took each contraction, one at a time. I didn’t think about the contraction that would come or the contraction that had passed. When the contraction started, I started to breath. Every other second I had to remind myself to relax my muscles and every next second, my muscles were tense and I had to relax them again. None of the breathing techniques I practiced worked for me so I did my own thing. And the shower was a god-send. Don’t believe me, research water-therapy in labor. There’s science behind it and it allowed me to keep going for the last leg of my labor.
I hardly have any visual memories of my labor. I was so entranced in my own state that an occasional peek at Fernando or the labor room is about all that I remember visually, of my labor. But what I do remember very clearly, is being inside my own head. I remember the exhaustion. I remember starting to cry when another contraction started before the last even seemed to finish. I remember there was an absence of thought and time. I think that if for even a moment, I wondered how much longer I had to labor or how much worse it could get… I would’ve lost it. The resiliency of my youth, a functional labor, uncomplicated pregnancies and my genetic predisposition to be a strong, determined female was certainly on my side as well.
And when it came time for delivery, I remember that it was the most physically and emotionally intense moment of my life. If at any point in your life, other than childbirth, you experience that level of pain, I assure you, something is terribly wrong. And yet, with childbirth, everything is terribly right. It feels as though your hip bones are breaking, your bowels are being removed and your vaginal tissue is splitting in half. And just when the intensity of your pain can’t get any higher… it falls away and you are handed the most beautiful, wonderful creature you’ve ever seen. The universe holds you on a pedestal while you are enraptured by the squirming, wet creation on your chest. And you will know no greater love.
No matter the woman, no matter the story, birth stories always get retold, over and over again. It’s a story that leaves such an indelible mark, that we can’t help but to re-tell it. And given the job title I carry, I suppose I probably recall my own story a little more often than the average. And once you start to recall it, it’s like opening the flood gates. A barrage of memories and emotions saturate you all over again as you recall the moment you met your child face to face.
Often times the details you remember are random and disorganized. For my first delivery, I can’t recall the hour she was born, but I can tell you what Fernando was wearing. For my second, I can’t remember a word the midwife said, but I can remember my oldest child’s face as she watched me deliver her brother. And one silly detail I remember, is remarking to my family, after my first delivery, “Well at least the hard part is over”. And they laughed at me. I think they’re still laughing …. or at least pathetically shaking their heads. LOL
Anyone who has raised a child, especially a teenager, knows exactly why they laughed. Because it’s not childbirth that poses the biggest challenge. It’s raising them. Many have the days been, where I’ve wished I could get back in that bed and just breath. I’ve cried, hoping that relaxation and practice would make it all better. And I’m still working on taking things one moment at a time and not thinking ahead or dwelling on the past. The causes and treatments for physical pain are, for the most part, so simple, so easy to treat. And yet the angst that comes with raising children is so much deeper, so much more complicated, so much more painful.
And so, while only some of us are called to labor and deliver our children at their birth, we are all called to raise them. And life’ing, parenting, adult’ing …. that’s the real challenge. We have baby showers to welcome new arrivals. Delivery rooms are often times packed with family and friends celebrating the newest addition. Everyone is eager to help and to hold the newest bundle. Childbirth classes are advertised in every OB office. But where is all the support and the help when that cute little baby grows and the challenges grow with it? You feel like a goddess the day you deliver and a few years down the road you’re a haggardly maiden just trying to find some clean clothes to wear.
As I raise a teenager and two strong-willed children, I look back on my labors for help and perspective. I remember when my first labor started. I was scared. Those contractions that I prayed for, hurt. It was the distraction and companionship of my female support system that occupied my thoughts and dulled that pain. Pain is easier to bear when you have good company and someone to make you laugh. Don’t be afraid to call someone when you need that distraction or companionship again …. but be careful who you call. You don’t want drama. You don’t want questions. You don’t want spectators. You want a movie date, a foot massage, a quiet conversation, or even better, a kind heart to confide in.
When the pain became too much to ignore despite my company, my strongest supporters became evident. Only those who love you most will lie in bed and rub your back for hours, will hold your puke bucket, will be present at any hour, will hold your hand when you are at your worst. Not a word of criticism or unsolicited advise but the gentle words of “You got this…keep breathing” and the rhythmic stroking on your back, that is support. Remember those people … they’re the ones to call when life hands you a shit storm.
When its time to seek help, know when to go and who to trust. Know who to listen to when they say, “It’s time to go now.” The best labor in the world, the best life in the world, can end tragically if you don’t know when to go for help. Don’t be so arrogant or close-minded that those whom you love the most suffer because you didn’t call for help. Listen to those that matter and ignore the anxious and nosy busy-bodies. They are the drama you don’t need.
Use all the tools they give you. In labor- it’s positions, and water and yes, even pain medicine, if you need it. In life, it’s counting to ten and relaxation and walking away so you don’t lose your shit. It’s discipline techniques and advise from those who have treaded those heavy waters before you. It’s wine and talk therapy with your BFF when you think you can’t handle another thing. It’s an emergency text- “Are you available to talk”? It’s free babysitting so you and your partner can go out for a much-needed break. It’s a dinner or a hug or a simple … “You’ve got this” that keeps us going through the lifelong labor of parenting.
While an epidural is a suitable option for women who choose not to labor un-medicated, the same pain-blocking options aren’t available for parenting. You can’t numb yourself from the rigors of raising children (and those who try to, fail miserably) the way an epidural numbs your lower half from contractions.
In short, get the damn epidural if you want it – because there’s no epidural for raising children.
If you didn’t get the epidural, remember the moment when the baby was crowning and you thought for sure that you were probably dying. Remember that you didn’t die. Instead, when you reached the point when you hurt so bad you could hardly breathe and you thought you were either going to explode or pass out, the pain subsided and you were handed the most beautiful thing you ever saw. Parenting too, will yield much pain … but the pain will one day subside and it will lead you to new moments of beauty. And the gifts you receive, once cute outfits and toys, will become richer by the day – patience, empathy, understanding …. and my favorite, humility.
“Oh, you went un-medicated!? How was it?”
It was the hardest, most painful, most exhausting thing I’ve ever done … and it was also the coolest and most rewarding.
That’s my inside answer …. for labor and life raising kids.
I’ll grab you a cool wash-cloth and you grab me some soothing music and together we’ll tackle this thing … one contraction, one day at a time.
Labor, un-medicated or not, is a matter of the mind and body. Life, on the other hand, takes your soul and is a far greater hurdle to clear. Build your support system with a stable base, accept help when it’s offered, learn to rest and appreciate the breaks in-between, remember that everything is temporary and …. stop stressing about a stupid epidural injection.
