The birth of my son has shaped the way I approach all impending endeavors. It has had a monumental impact on my confidence and overall self-perception.

On Friday, October 1, 2010, my due date, I had an appointment with the doctor wherein she told me that I did not appear to be close to giving birth. Without warning, she swept my membranes and proceeded to discuss possible induction dates within the next ten days. I left the office that day feeling anxious and discouraged. The thought of being induced terrified me, not because I was dead-set on a natural childbirth, but because I knew having Pitocin would be extra painful. That, and the thought of an epidural and its accompanying needle in my spine had me truly petrified.

I was living in the States at the time and was still working full days, full-time, carrying around an enormous bump. I had to continue working until I went into labor because I only had enough PTO to get 30 days leave. I did not want to waste any days before delivery. So I powered on thorugh the exhaustion and the cascade of “Haven’t you had that baby yet?” remarks.

The next few days consisted of red raspberry leaf tea, long walks, lots of sex, pineapple juice, spicy food, pressure point foot rubs, and just about anything within reason I could think of to speed things along. On Tuesday night I ate a sumptuous steak dinner at my parents’ house and took a long walk with my SO. We came home and I told him that I needed a beer. Yeungling Lager, to be exact. I barely had more than a few sips of alcohol for the past nine months, so I felt it was time. It tasted amazing.

I was only halfway through the bottle when I felt my first contraction. I knew all about Braxton Hicks and false contractions, but somehow, deep down I knew this was it. Despite his clammy hands, the SO didn’t believe me and advised me not to get too excited. This was something that actually helped me in the big picture of my labor.

After two hours of frequent, but manageable contractions, I put the call into my best friend to let her know it was time for her to come over. She had helped a few other friends during their births and I liked the idea of having a calm female companion during the event. Besides, she had helped me keep my shit straight for the previous five years, so I figured this was a time I could really use her confident, blunt support. See, I have a tendency to be anxious,especially regarding pain and my health. We joked about how I would “wimp out” right away. Although I wanted to try for a natural birth, I had prepared myself to endure the most excruciating pain imaginable. I heard of a friend who in her third natural birth was literally speaking in tongues at one point from the sheer pain and intensity. So, I figured I’d give it a shot, but I wasn’t going to beat myself up if I cracked and begged for relief. This mentality was also crucial in getting me through labor

For the next several hours my contractions continued, grew closer together, and increased in pain. We began to time them at five minutes apart. I just didn’t feel like I was in enough pain yet though, so I opted not to call the doctor or go to the hospital. I figured I had a long road ahead of me and I didn’t want to jinx myself my jumping the gun.

Around midnight my friend gave the SO the go-ahead to get some rest while we spent time together. After she made me a delicious “toad-in-the-hole” we walked, caught up on the latest gossip, watched “Blue Planet,” and played Scrabble. After a heated game, I won with the word “waffled.”

Around 5 AM I finally managed to drift off for about an hour. I awoke to a feeling that I initially thought was a hard kick, but soon turned to the sensation of a gun going off inside of me. My water had broken and I was absolutely gushing. I ran to the bathroom to clean up and put some cloth diapers in my pants. (Silly me, I forgot to stock up on pads!) The next contraction came and with it came a fierce vomiting episode.

I figured at this point I’d give the doctor a call.

I told the doctor my contractions were about three minutes apart and my water had broken, but that I just wasn’t in as much pain as I had anticipated. She said I could stay home and call when it got worse. About 30 minutes to an hour later I was starting to really feel it. During contractions I called upon an extremely useful tool I had learned in my childbirth class: The brain can only focus on one sensation at a time and it will always perceive pleasure before pain. During each contraction I used my index finger to softly draw circles on the back of my other hand. It sounds too simple, but I just focused on that light, ticklish sensation and before I knew it, each contraction had passed. With their passing came pure relief, and I soaked that up for all it was worth.

At a certain point, feeling tired from the lack of sleep, I laid down on the bed. The SO was just waking up as I told him that I had a strong urge to push. Both he and my friend were skeptical, but they obliged and we packed up to go to the hospital. It was rush hour now on the grey and rainy morning of Wednesday, October 6, 2010. The SO, still unbelieving, took his sweet time driving through the traffic. I wasn’t mad, though, because I still thought I wasn’t in enough pain to be far enough along to get admitted. I was certain that would turn me away, only to be faced with hours more of intensifying pain.

I got to Labor and Delivery and was told there were no available rooms at the moment. There were two other women in active labor at triage, and the nurse told us whoever was furthest along would get the next room. She laughed as she did my cervical exam and measured me at 9cm! The next few minutes were a blur as they dressed me and got me into a room that they were still mopping up from the previous birth. (By the way, apparently October 5th-6th are statistically the most common birthing days. Consequently, there were 16 other babies born that day!)

As soon as I got on to the bed, the nurse said I was OK to push. Not knowing at all what that meant, I gave it the old college try! During this two-hour pushing ordeal I began to feel discouraged. At one point the nurse wanted to give me fluids via an IV in my hand. I refused, but she insisted. I hate needles! I begged her to wait until between contractions, but she just jammed it on in—what a b! Despite that little hang-up, the nurses were very encouraging and gave me some great techniques to push more effectively. They reminded me to tuck my chin and allowed me to use the squat bar to get off my back for a while.

You may be wondering why I had my best friend accompany as a female support figure rather than my mother. Well I would say my anxiety level is only second to my mother’s. Although she is my best friend and confidant, she and I had a long discussion and agreed that it would be best for both of us if she not be present during labor. Sure enough, though, mid-contraction and mid-push, in comes my mom. I guess when she arrived at the hospital after we told her we were on our way she asked the nurse for an update, to which the nurse advised her to go on in. I think she assumed I was in early labor and she could just say hello for a quick moment. Her huge smile upon entering the room quickly turned into a look of shock as she got the full-frontal view of what was happening. It didn’t help that I shouted, “What the hell are you doing here, mom?!” Although later in the day I apologized profusely for this momentary lapse of self-control, she said that she completely understood where I was coming from at the time.

When the baby was very close the doctor came in. She was not one of my regular doctors, but she was very calm, vocal, and extremely encouraging. Every time I would push, the SO, nurses, doctor, and my friend would all gasp and tell me how much progress I had made. Thinking I was almost there, you can imagine my disappointment when they informed me that they could only see the head the size of a dime, then a nickel, then a quarter with each subsequent push. They asked me if I wanted to see what was going on down there with a mirror to help inspire me, but there was no way in hell I wanted to see what damage was being done. So, I agreed to reach down and feel instead. My friend and SO love to joke about how I instantly recoiled my hand as if in disgust—really, I just was not expecting it to feel so…well…gooey.

The next bit of feedback I got really disturbed me. One of the nurses said, “Just push through the burning.” This quote, although true, was less than motivational, and consequently has solidified my friend’s desire to never have a baby. But to be honest, thinking back, it wasn’t that bad. (I guess not, because I’ve voluntarily chosen to do it again in six months!)

Well I did push through the burning. I believe that at this point I asked my friend if my clitoris had ripped off—I was sure that it had. Nevertheless, seeing as this wasn’t going to end until that boy came out, I reached down into this crazy animalistic part of me and really gave it my all. The SO says I was like the Terminator. I remember squeezing his hand so hard that he started to bleed at one point. Finally, they told me I had done it, his head was out. I was so relieved, it was over!

“Okay, another big push to get the shoulders out!” the doctor called.

It was though the needle scratched off the record and time came to a halt. I was done. There was no way I had any energy left to push again. Besides I was sure there was nothing left down there to push with. The nurses must have noticed my surrender, because they began pushing on my stomach to get the rest of the baby out. Up until this point I would say I handled everything pretty gracefully. That was over now, as I began swatting at them, telling them to get the hell off of me. But amidst the panic, I saw them lift my dear boy into my view…all 9lbs 2oz of him. I was in shock at how big he was.

Despite my request to have him put on my chest immediately after birth, they whisked him away for a weigh-in and cleaning. Not soon after, he came to me blinking, swollen, and with ears that were folded down. He was the most beautiful creature alive.

There is more to the story about recovery and our first few days as a family, but I’ll leave it here for now. I will say that it was not easy, but I am so thankful for the awesome support I had in the SO, my friend, the nurses, the doctor, and my family. I am so appreciative of my son, who after all, had total control in this situation and who graciously gifted me with a relatively short labor. I am also so damn proud of myself for going through something that I honestly doubted I could do. This next time around may not be so smooth, and I’m ready for that. No matter what, though, I can still remember that it will be one of the rare moments in my life where enduring pain immediately reveals a wonderful reward.