My last post on this blog was from two years ago, about a month before I found out I was pregnant. I have considered writing Wendy's birth story a million times, but other things always took precedence. As more time went on and the memory of her birth got less and less vivid, I wondered if I should even bother writing about it if it was no longer fresh.
But the memory is only going to get fuzzier. I had such a positive experience during labor and delivery, that I want to share (even if it is 20 months late). There were so many things I wanted to know or share when I was pregnant, but I couldn't bring myself to write and I couldn't find most of what I was looking for in pregnancy forums. As it turns out, a lot of moms suck. It made me question why I decided to join the club.
The first three months were DARK. Not the stereotypical puking all day dark, but more of a psychic pain. I have taken Zoloft for depression and anxiety since I was 16. I have always known I wanted to be a mom, and have always worried about how I would be able to do it with anxiety and depression. Luckily there's enough information about the safety of Zoloft during pregnancy now, so I knew I wanted to stay on it throughout my pregnancy and beyond. The last time I went off was so unbearable, I vowed to never try again. My midwife agreed it was safe and would probably be the best choice for me and baby. I am also prescribed Xanax for acute anxiety/panic attacks from things like planes, heights, etc. You absolutely can not take Xanax while pregnant. I admittedly relied on it far too much as a crutch, and that became VERY apparent once I got my positive pregnancy test.
I was fortunate to get pregnant quickly. The first cycle was a bust, but the second cycle I used ovulation strips and it worked! (Thanks for the tip, Grace.) I was certain I wasn't pregnant because I felt no different. I even bought a six pack that day. Eloy was at Coachella watching a pregnant Cardi B, and I was home on the couch about to crack a beer. I decided to take a test just in case. Lo and behold, there were two stripes. No way. I took another. Positive. Another. Positive. Holy shit, it worked.
I Facetimed my cousin Heather while I was still on the toilet, smiling ear to ear. She picked up (she never does). I said "Guess what?" and she was like "Are you on the toilet?...no way." I set up a cardboard cut out of Adam Sandler (something we have at the ready living with Eloy) and a sign that said "Congratulations Big Daddy!" with my three positive tests. I hid behind the wall and watched him come in the front door from Coachella. He realized what it meant and also said, "No way!"
Yes way.
I'm not going to lie, not having the safety net of Xanax was what scared the shit out of me before I got pregnant and it absolutely still scared the shit out of me for the first half of my pregnancy. In the beginning it was really hard. I did pregnancy meditations and jogged to Cardi B and Kacey Musgraves every morning to lower my base anxiety level (which only means it was threat level orange instead of red). I would jog to Get Up 10 and tell myself, "if Cardi can throw pregnant ass at Coachella, I can do this." I did not throw up once in the first or second trimester (I'll save the 'insane stomach bug while 9 months pregnant' story for another time), though I did have food aversions. I would have brief windows of craving one specific food and then the window would close and all food would go back to being disgusting. I ate so many ginger chews those first couple months that I get a wave of nausea if I even see the packaging.
All this to say, I was SO ANXIOUS about everything. I felt like a sitting duck waiting to throw up or feel nauseous all day every day, which sounded more miserable to me than labor. (It never really happened.) I was so anxious about having anxiety and not being allowed to take medicine for it. I also started to feel weird guilt, like how dare I do something so selfish as decide to get pregnant when so many people count on me at work and in my bands and in my group therapy. I even cried one day on my way to work about my "selfish" decision. I pleaded with my cousin to assure me I didn't just make a huge mistake and fuck up my life forever. I asked her to tell me it will be worth it. Luckily, I had a friend who was also pregnant and due in December and we could text about it. We called the first trimester the sunken place. We would share our most fucked up thoughts with each other and feel a little less alone.
The first trimester is weird. You aren't supposed to tell anyone you're pregnant, but your body is going INSANE. I'm certain the expectation that you silently walk around with what feels like a terminal illness is a creation of the patriarchy. It is so isolating, and then if you lose the pregnancy (which MANY people do) you never told anyone to begin with, so you're just expected to suffer and grieve alone? It's insane. I told every single person who would listen that I was pregnant, not out of excitement so much as, "HELP. I'M PREGNANT. AM I GOING TO BE OKAY? TELL ME I'M OKAY." Also if I did miscarry, I wanted to be able to talk about it with people instead of silently being sad and shutting everyone out.
It feels like the narrative around motherhood that is deemed "normal" is that babies are gifts from god and you fall in love with your baby the moment you get pregnant, and that love just grows until they're finally in your arms and you lock eyes with them and feel a love greater than you've ever felt in your life. That was not my experience. Even though this was an intentional pregnancy, I was scared! What if I didn't love her? What if she sucked? What if she doesn't make it? (All of these thoughts seem silly to me now, because I'm obsessed with her, but they were very real and valid fears.) These what-ifs kept me from fully giving in and treating the thing growing in my belly like my daughter, because to me, she was still a stranger. I tried to protect myself by maintaining a pragmatic and scientific mindset around my pregnancy.
I meditated (Headspace), did therapy, took anxiety supplements (Calm Now), listened to grounding apps during panic attacks (iChill), and kept this tool in my car to release tension in my muscles when I was feeling anxious. Slowly, I figured out how to work with my brain to let panic and anxiety come and go without feeding it and causing an echo chamber in my head. I'm currently slipping out of practice and trying to work that muscle more again. The pandemic has definitely knocked me off kilter.
As I started to find my stride in the second trimester, I felt MUCH better. I had more energy, an appetite, and started to have faith in my ability to talk myself down from a panic attack. My heart stopped racing every time I got in the elevator at the doctor's office, and I even planned a trip to meet my pregnant spiral squad bff in Palm Springs. I realized I hadn't driven myself more than 30 miles from my home without taking Xanax in 10 years. I am a very high functioning agoraphobe. I took on the challenge, and did it. I did have a panic attack on the drive home, but pulled off the road to a gas station, got some drinks, let it pass, and apologized to the baby for the insane surge of adrenaline. I remember I could feel her wiggling around as my heart started to race, I felt so bad.
The worst part is, I took an early glucose test because I have had elevated blood sugar in the past, AND I FAILED IT. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes right away, so I couldn't even self soothe with sugar like I am known to do. I had to take my blood sugar 4 times a day, and the info was uploaded via bluetooth to an app on my phone that my doctor would check. I had to have total food accountability my whole pregnancy because if my numbers were off, I'd get a message about it. It was actually a great way to stay healthy. I wound up losing weight for the first few months. By the end of my pregnancy I only weighed about 10 lbs more than when I got pregnant.
Also - for my fat friends and readers: I was so ready to have to have "the talk" about my weight with my midwife. I went in armed with what to say, I blurted out "I know I'm overweight but I do exercise and I will stay active and eat well." She just looked at me and said "We just want you to do what you can, all different kinds of people have pregnancies." It was never made an issue. My GD was never blamed on me or my weight, and was treated without judgment. I can't say enough good things about the care a received through Kaiser Permanente.
The third trimester definitely got more challenging physically, but I was still able to work and drum and hike. I recorded super fast punk drums for an entire Vivian Girls album when I was 7 months pregnant, and hiked in Sequoia when I was 8 months pregnant. I asked my doctor if it was a bad idea and basically simultaneously said it didn't really matter what she told me because going anyway (what a fun patient I am.) She said "Nope, no problem. I camped in Big Sur when I was 37 weeks pregnant. Granted I was super slow and sucking wind the whole time in Sequoia from the altitiude/elevation climb, but I did it. The heartburn in the third trimester was super annoying. I ate so many Tums. My mouth was perpetually chalky. And the round ligament pain was pretty uncomfortable, but a belly band helped.
Because of my gestational diabetes, during the last month or so I had to go in every three days for NST scans to make sure baby was still doing ok in there and didn't need to come out early. Doctors do recommend inducing labor for women with GD because sometimes their babies can be larger, and if they get too large, they might require an emergency C section. My midwife assured me the safest thing to do was induce a week early and it would increase my odds of having a vaginal birth. Of course I read induction horror stories and was so scared it would be this horrible, grueling process because my body wasn't ready for labor and I would be fighting nature. Something that helped me roll with the punches and accept all of this though, was my lack of a birth plan. Early on in my pregnancy when my anxiety was insanely high, I met with a doula and considered hiring her to hold my hand throughout the entire process. After speaking to a couple mom friends though, I ultimately decided against it. The only thing I knew was that I wanted an epidural, and I felt confident in my ability to handle a birth with an epidural.
I scheduled my induction for December 19th. I tried all the things to go into labor on my own, none of it worked. I saw my midwife one last time the day before my induction and asked if we should do a membrane sweep. She said I should just enjoy my last day before the induction without the discomfort that follows a membrane sweep.
December 19th finally came. Holy shit. This baby was going to have to come out of me. Honestly by the end I was so uncomfortable I wouldn't have cared if she came out like the Kool-Aid man.
My induction was scheduled to begin at 9 pm. I sat in the waiting room with my dad (my parents came to town to help get everything situated before my induction and to help out after baby arrived.) Eloy was invited to the Survivor finale by Jeff Probst himself that night, and I insisted he go. Even if they did start on time (which of course it did not), it's not like I'd have the baby in 30 minutes. Eloy actually met up with us before my room was even ready. Before Eloy got there and I was just waiting with my dad, they wheeled a woman into Labor and Delivery who was loudly moaning in pain. I could hear her coming down the hall, and as they wheeled her past me she yelled OH GOD!!! I could feel my face get hot and red. That was my near future?! My friend Kate texted to ask how I was doing. I said "bad," and told her what I just heard. She told me to ignore it and that I would be fine. Kate birthed three kids, so I sort of believed her. My friends Katy and Erin had also recently given birth vaginally, and they both told me it was not that bad, so I made that my mantra. "It's not that bad."
Once I was let into my ~birthing suite~ I got all my snacks and bags and stuff situated. I set up my oil diffuser and my phone charger and headphones. I made a little toiletry bag for the hospital stay with all the super nice Davines products and new hairbrush my friend Lauren gave me at my last haircut before the induction. I had my playlist ready, and Eloy had episodes of It's Always Sunny and the Wedding Singer on his computer for us to watch. My midwife had told me to expect the induction to take three days and treat it like a stay in a cabin on a cruise ship, so I did my best to follow her advice.
The doctor asked me if I had a birth plan. I told her I wanted a run of the mill birth with an epidural and I trusted them to do whatever they needed to keep me and baby safe. She said ok, sounds good! After doing an ultrasound to make sure baby was in a good position to start, the next step was ripening my cervix since it was still hard and high and closed. I could choose to do this medicinally with a pill, or physically with something called a foley bulb. In hindsight, I should have tried the pill first.
A foley bulb is essentially a deflated balloon they put inside of you and then inflate so it agitates your cervix into dilating. They can speed things up by putting a second balloon in you that pushes more, but as soon as they inflated it I felt cramps that were similar really intense diarrhea pain and made me sweat and I was like, NOPE NO THANKS DEFINITELY NOT THAT, so we stuck with just the one. If you are expecting, definitely do not be afraid to advocate for yourself. Whoever is helping out with your birth is there to do just that - help. If something feels bad or wrong, talk it out.
They clip the end of the foley bulb to your leg to further agitate it when you move. It was really uncomfortable and annoying, especially since I had an IV drip of fluids. Getting in and out of the hospital bed constantly with the IV tree, and trying to pee while this thing yanked on your cervix was by far the worst part of giving birth. They implored me to get some sleep for the big day ahead of me and I was like literally how? All I can think about is this fucking balloon tugging on my cervix and having to pee. It started to give me really painful cramps and contractions. Nothing I couldn't handle, it wasn't outside the realm of period cramps, but certainly not something I could sleep through. They asked if I wanted morphine. It seemed a bit extreme for the pain I was experiencing, and morphine sounded like a way different night that I was planning. I declined and suffered through it.
I eventually fell asleep and was getting some rest when they came in to let me know my contractions had completely stopped. Ah, that's why I was finally able to sleep. They let me know the labor has to continue to progress for me to stay in the hospital, so they would have to start me on pitocin. I was so annoyed. I was hoping my body would just snowball into labor on its own, plus I heard so many people talk about how painful pitocin contractions are. I asked if I could get an epidural if the pitocin was too painful. They assured me if I really felt I needed it, I could get an epidural at any point in the whole process. I also told my doctor I was really afraid of having a panic attack during labor. She told me "well, luckily we are in a hospital and we can give you something for it if you do!" Thank god.
Eloy, bored out of his mind alongside me, waiting for the action to happen
Once you start pitocin, you need to be on a liquid diet, so they let me eat a sandwich and some solid snacks before starting the drip. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that these pitocin contractions felt exactly like Braxton Hicks contractions and totally didn't bother me. I probably received the pitocin early Thursday morning, December 20th, but specifics are fuzzy. The idea of night and day kind of didn't exist in that room. The best team of nurses continually monitored my contractions and my blood sugar. My blood sugar readings were high even though I wasn't eating much, so they started me on an insulin drip to keep my blood sugar level. Having an IV in each hand wasn't ideal, but it was fine. "It's not that bad."
Every step of the way I told whatever nurse or doctor was on shift that I was scared and asked them what to expect. They were so patient and direct with me, and it made me feel really empowered and cared for. Throughout that Thursday they gradually increased my pitocin and I gradually dilated more and more. I was never in pain. Since I was having my baby at Kaiser Permanente (on Sunset) I wouldn't necessarily see the doctor or midwife I had seen throughout my pregnancy. Luckily though, my midwife happened to be on duty during part of my induction. She came in and gave me a pep talk, checked my dilation, and wished me luck. She told me when it's time to push, to push like I'm pooping.
The next phase was to have my water broken since it wasn't breaking on its own. I was scared it would hurt. I barely felt it. My goal was to make it to at least 5 cm before getting an epidural. I made it to 6cm before my contractions started to suck that Thursday evening. I was able to breathe through them for about an hour, and get up and try different positions that my midwife showed me. After the hour though, I was burying my face in my pillow during contractions, unable to talk. Having been awake for almost 2 days at this point, I had very little fight left in me. I felt that I could continue to handle them as they came, but it would take all the energy I would need for pushing. I decided I had enough, I got the idea of active labor, and it was time for the epidural.
I was terrified of the epidural. I let my nurse Mariah know that. She said the pain of the epidural is nothing compared to labor pain. Having experienced 6 cm labor pain, I believed her and definitely did not want to know what 10 cm labor pain felt like. I felt enough to get the gist and feel like I "earned it" (whatever that means.) She held me in her arms as the anesthesiologist placed the epidural. I wouldn't say it hurt, it was just weird. They numb your back first, so it's not pain so much as pressure. In order to place it in the right spot, they rely on you to tell them what feels like the center of your back. Apparently what is physically the center of your back might not match up with what your nerves and brain define as the center of your back, so to get an even placement they need your input. Pretty cool! It definitely felt like someone was playing around with my spine, but ultimately "not that bad!" Shortly after the medicine started to take effect I felt weird and hot, like I might throw up or pass out. I weakly tried to explain what I was feeling, but I was so out of it. The nurse and doctor rushed to add something to my IV and I instantly felt better. Apparently it's common for the medicine in the epidural to cause your blood pressure to drop super low at first, and they needed to give me something to bring it back up quickly. Once everything was officially in the clear, Eloy told me I was white as a ghost and my blood pressure was insanely low. He said the nurse had a worried look on her face, but he didn't react to keep me from freaking out. Thanks Eloy!
Once I got that epidural I looked at Eloy and said "Epidurals rule. Drugs rule. Whoever doesn't get one of these is a FOOL." I had no pain, but also I wasn't zonked out. It was beautiful. I slept like a baby while I dilated further. I am a huge wimp about medicine, and really don't like feeling ~weird~. I've never taken a painkiller stronger than ibuprofen. The epidural was non-narcotic, so the effect was mostly like novocaine but for your uterus/vagina. Any loopiness was 100% from being awake for so long. Also, they hook the epidural up so that it administers the medicine periodically in doses. You can press button to get more a couple times an hour, or you can just wait for it to automatically give you a dose. I would say I opted for more sooner about half the time. The fact that you had some control over how much sensation you had was really comforting.
The weird thing about epidurals is the medicine drains from side to side depending on your position. So I fell asleep for a long time on one side and was super insanely dead meat numb on that side, but feeling crazy contractions on the other side. Nothing catastrophic, but I definitely felt it. Laying flat on your back fixed the problem relatively quickly. I was expecting the epidural to make me feel completely numb from the waist down, but that wasn't my experience at all. I could still wiggle my toes and I could feel if you touched my leg. It was just more of a faint pins and needles feeling than a total block. I felt contractions still, but none of it hurt.
I got stuck around 9 cm because baby's head was tilted to the side and looking up. I had to try laying in a different position with a peanut ball between my legs to encourage her to straighten out. I went back to sleep in this position for around an hour. Then they checked me and I was 10 cm and ready to go! I asked if I could wait til my epidural drained back in to both sides before I started pushing because I did not want to feel any pain. They said that was totally ok and moved my bed to an upright position to help aid the process.
I can't believe after 33 hours in the hospital it was finally time to push. I of course had to remind the staff that I was scared, and they gave me the rundown of how it would go. They let me know pushing can take around 4 hours. At this point it was early Friday morning, December 21st, and I hadn't eaten solid food in a day. I was so fucking hungry that I HAD to get her out faster than that. They also told me if I didn't get her out in the 4 hours we'd be looking at a C section because of how long my water had been broken. Then my favorite nurse Mariah said "And if you need a C section, then you can't eat for 12 more hours after that." I said fuck that, I'm too hungry to wait 12 more hours to eat, I WILL push this baby out ASAP.
After everything I had been through up until that moment though, I still had a sense of humor. I remembered I brought a Santa hat and beard with me in my hospital bag and asked Eloy to take my last picture before our baby was here.
All sorts of people stretched and massaged me with oil to prevent tearing. I pushed and pushed. It took such a great deal of effort it was insane. I can definitely see why people want to go without drugs so they have the option to change positions while pushing, because pushing a baby out in a sit-up position is HARD. My instinct was to squat, but with the epidural it's really not safe to try (even though I felt like I totally could.) That being said, while it was hard, it wasn't impossible. I did zero strength training or prenatal yoga during my pregnancy. I remember thinking to myself, "Damn. If I had been training on a rowing machine this whole time this would be so much easier." I was so tired but so determined. I had a labor playlist on shuffle, and at one point Avicii - Levels came on. A doctor came into the room and said "...is this..Avicii?" then a moment later a different doctor came in and said "Avicii? Oh, she's GOT to be born to Avicii!" (She was actually born to Paramore - Fast in my Car.)
Eloy had a front row seat to the whole thing, and gave me a really great tip. He told me every time I took a breath, any progress I had made pushing would backtrack. So what little bit of her head did come out, would go back in when I took a breath. I kept this in mind and tried to maintain pushing while taking short quick breaths. After he told me that I made a lot more progress. I was so tired I don't think I opened my eyes once. They asked if I wanted a mirror to see her head and I said "absolutely not." They also asked if I wanted to feel her coming out of me, to which I said "absolutely not." In my mind, my head was a separate entity from my body and I wanted to continue with that illusion.
Finally more and more of her was out, and while it didn't hurt, it definitely did feel like there was a tiny person's skull in my crotch. I gave a few more good pushes and she just kinda flowed out of me like when you pop a pimple that had a ton of pressure behind it. Super gross, so sorry. But accurate!
She was so much floppier than I was anticipating. I've been around so many babies and I know you need to support their head. What was the first thing I did when taking my daughter from the nurse? Let her head flop violently. I looked at the nurse and said "Oops, sorry." Apparently when Wendy came out she shit simultaneously. Definitely our kid.
The weirdest thing is she barely made a peep when she came out. I thought something was wrong, and continued my guardedness even when she was on the outside. We both asked a couple times if she was ok and they just said "yep, she's a good color!" aka not blue. I know a lot of people feel a rush of love for their baby the first time they hold them, and it's not that I didn't love her, it was just that I felt awkward. I was so exhausted and we had just been through the most insane thing I've ever been through. Eloy and I just stared at her and each other like "wtf just happened?' We were definitely obsessed with her and just wanted to stare at her, but I wouldn't say I felt instantly like the mother I do today having gotten to know her. I had feelings about how much she looked like my grandma to me, and how weird the circle of life is. I also felt an ease about death that I hadn't felt before. Like "Oh, this was a beautiful natural thing, and so death must be too. It's all part of the same cycle." I definitely felt more a part of the human experience than I ever have before. I finally felt real. There was no worrying about instagram or make up or bands or food (ok, just kidding, I was very concerned with what I was finally going to be able to eat). But I just felt supremely human. I don't know how else to explain it.
I am surprised how relaxed I am as a mother. I definitely still have anxiety, and I do probably check to make sure she's breathing more often than necessary, but overall I do feel at peace with it. In the early postpartum days, I had some moments of complete overwhelm and some family stuff that added to my bad feelings, but for the most part I've been able to take things in stride. On the way home from the hospital I felt a primal anxiety, like what I would imagine a wolf would feel if she had to move her cubs from den to den when they were a day old. I also definitely looked down at her sleeping in my arms as a newborn and had a wash of panic come over me like "uh oh. this is forever. I need to go lay down." And around 4 months post partum I had to call my mom to fly out and help cause I felt like the wheels of my sanity were coming off, but that first year is gone so fast. The impermanence of parenthood is really a double-edged sword. On the one hand, those nights where they wake up every two hours screaming their heads off don't last forever, and that brings you solace in those moments. But on the other hand, those nights where they just want to be held and fall asleep on your chest don't last forever either, and that makes you wish you could slow time.
Everyday I become more and more obsessed with and in awe of her. It doesn't matter how hard the day was, Eloy and I miss her when she's asleep and we look at pictures and videos of her on our phones, sharing the ones we took. I love to watch her take in new information and to help her navigate big feelings. I love to apologize to her when I have big feelings and am not my best self. I love when she surprises us with a new word or skill or funny look. I love to watch how much she loves her dad. I get it, I love him too. I can't wait for piano lessons and teaching her to skateboard and dance recitals. I can't wait for family vacations and birthdays and Christmas mornings and homework and splinters and bee stings and all that other wonderful and miserable childhood stuff.
Something that I was really worried about was losing my identity in motherhood, but I have not found that to be the case. I am grateful to have a partner who splits the Wendy work with me evenly, and I think he would agree that we've both been able to continue to work and enjoy things the way we did before having a kid. I would go so far as to say I enjoy MORE things as a mom, because I am reminded of the simple joys of childhood like staring up at trees and pulling blades of grass. I love getting to rewatch all my childhood favorite movies and TV shows and watch my child soak them up. I love having a reason to go to the beach and getting covered in paint. There's definitely more planning involved, but in general I don't feel like having a kid has prevented me from doing what I want. If anything it has lit a fire inside me to work harder, learn more, be better, and try new things. We have no regrets. Eloy has said, his only regret is not doing it sooner.
P.S. If you're expecting or know someone who is, here's an Amazon list of things I found incredibly useful in those early days. It's easy to forget about yourself when you're preparing everything you need for a baby, but please remember to take care of yourself. You can't pour from an empty cup, etc.
