Oscar James | the birth story of my son
I have a son.
I made a human and he is the most wonderful little person in the whole wide world.
I’ve sat down to write the story of his birth countless times. I’ve shared our story a handful of times in person, but every time I could feel this block in sharing, a vulnerability I was uncomfortable with. And I could go on about this (in fact I will in another post so if you are interested in a little more about that be on the lookout) but this story here is about the birth of my son and I’m finally ready to do that, so with that. Here is his story, here is my story. This is our story.
Oscar James Carone. Born June 22, 2018, at 8:10 am.
His due date was June 9th and as the days came & went past his due date passed, I was feeling all sorts of anxiety about when he would arrive. I wanted to be at peace about it but there was a little cloud lingering over our heads when it came to the date of Oscar’s arrival. Anthony, my husband, who is a musician, was going to be playing the biggest show of his career on Saturday the 23rd, a show to 26,000 people, and no matter what was happening with me & the babe, Anth would be on stage. We were so focused on hoping he wouldn’t miss the big event (the birth one) that we hadn’t stopped to think “what if he had to leave during it” and that thought came to us in the second week of waiting.
We tried all the natural ways to induce (LOTS of mangoes, the teas, acupuncture, spicy foods, walking, sex) but it was after the second of two very painful stretch and sweeps that something shifted. On that Wednesday evening, as I sat on the floor with Lucy snuggled next to me and Anthony to my right (a bundle of nerves on overdrive) I noted that my cramps from the morning stretch were coming in stronger, possibly every twenty or so minutes. I never experienced Braxton hicks during my pregnancy so I had nothing to compare to, and I was so anxious about this being a false alarm that I said nothing to Anthony. An hour later (around 10 pm) we settled into bed and once he was fast asleep, I breathed into the rhythm of each sensation. I waited another hour before I really even believed it for myself that this was really happening.
By midnight, both Anth & Lucy were asleep cuddled up next to me. I breathed in & out with each surge that took over my mind and body. They were still twenty minutes apart. By 3 am I decided to get into the bath where I spent the next two hours moving through the surges, which were now about 10 minutes apart. They weren’t unbearable. I felt confidant in my breathing and with my eyes closed visualized future moments with us all together. By 5:30 am, the pressure was a little more intense and I moved back in bed. Anthony sleepily woke and asked where I was, I told him. He didn’t panic but got upset that I hadn’t woken him earlier. I explained I wanted him to rest and that I was ok, but I needed him now. We stayed in bed for the next two hours and just breathed together.
By 8 am I was having 5 minute apart contractions that were a minute and a half in length and coming on strong. While I decided to take a shower, Anthony started to fill our birth pool. This ended up being one adventurous feat with the hose connector only working on the washing machine faucet which only releases hot water. He had to mix in cold water from the kitchen sink but the connector didn’t work and he had to manually hold his hand on the hose to the faucet to keep it closed. But, this meant when the hose went rogue spraying all over well, it just added a little extra stress to the situation.
By this time the contractions were 4 mins about, one minute in length. A message on the app I was using to monitor my contractions said, “Go to the hospital”. But that wasn’t our plan as we were planning for a home birth in a birthing tub, so this meant to call the midwives. We paged our midwives.
The next alert came in about thirty minutes later, with a little more urgency to be with care as my contractions then went to 3 mins apart and one minute and a half in length.
Soon enough, Zoe, our doula, arrived. Zoe added such comfort and safety for us. She was someone for us both to lean on and someone we deeply trusted. I knew from the moment I had asked her to be a part of the day, that she would be someone important to this journey but I never imagine just how much of a big role she would play.
Our midwife, Kay knocked on our door around 10 am. My contractions were close together and despite the pain, I was excited because I thought things were happening quickly. I thought I was going to see my baby in the next few hours. Anthony and Kay talked in the other room while more strong contractions filled my body. Zoe stayed with me and helped me with my breathing because as time was passing focusing on my breath was getting harder. She held my hands, eyes locked on me, and together we breathed. As I moved to the bathroom, Anthony switched with Zoe. I tried to get in the tub but was becoming sitting on my bottom with my legs higher up. I needed to lean back but I needed to have my leg free to move apart, everything hurt. Anthony helped me out of the tub after only a few contractions and I sat on the toilet. I always thought it was strange how laboring women were on the toilet, but suddenly I was there and I just understood it. It was cooling on my skin. When a contraction would stop I’d slump over, and lean into Anthony. Then, as a contraction came, every part of me felt this surge through my body.
“Don’t break his fingers”, I’d say in my head as I held on for life to his hands with each contraction.
“Don’t poop!”, would go through my mind too, terrified that this pressure was gonna make me do that one thing I really dreaded. I felt like my brain was swishing in my head like water in a fishbowl and things were becoming so much hazier.
Kay did a check on me and with her warm eyes, she told me that despite the pain and the closeness of the surges, I wasn’t in active labor.
I wasn’t dilated. Not even a little bit.
My heart was crushed. I knew what that meant because I had been there for other births where even at 4 cm dilated, they still had hours to go. How could I not be dilated at all? The pain was so intense and they were so close together. I was crushed. I felt like a failure. I felt helpless and like I was wasting everyone’s time.
“What can I do?!?”, my eyes asked, my voice blank. I felt like I knew nothing and I was so tired already. I wanted to ease the pain and I wanted it to go away, but every position I was in didn’t help, the pain was continuous. She advised that to get the baby to start moving down I needed to try some things; one being that I would ingest Castor Oil (something I had also read about and dreaded) and the second, I needed to move to the bed and labour on my side, switching sides repeatedly.
I did both. First, I took the Castor Oil, but before I could get up to the bedroom to start on the second thing, I vomited it all backup. Eventually, I made it to the bedroom and by this time, Agnes, a friend, and our birth photographer had arrived. Another warm, supportive soul in our home brought me more comfort and I felt safe knowing the support within our four walls.
Around 2pm, everyone was there again (they came and went a few times while keeping in touch as they knew it was going to be a long time before things started moving). My contractions were close, feeling like there was no break in between them. Our midwife checked me and I was 6 cm but my water hadn’t broken. She said she was going to break it at the next check. But before she could do it as I sat on the toilet leaning forward on Anthony, a gush of something came out and relief came next when I realized my water had broken.
By 5pm, suddenly a shift of something different came over me and I started to feel this urge to push when the contractions came in. It wasn’t time to push and they tried to coach me to breathe through the contraction without pushing. This is when it got tough, like really tough. My body felt like it was taking over and my mind couldn’t stop it. I knew it wasn’t time to push, but my body was having this full reaction of pushing beyond my control.
All along they kept checking the babe’s heart rate and he was ok. He was good. So I kept trying to breathe through my own pain not having any comparison of what I should or shouldn’t be feeling. As long as the babe was ok, and everyone felt that things were ok, then I was ok because I trusted the people around me.
Soon enough relief came with the second midwife came, Jess. Jess wasn’t just a midwife but a good friend of mine who asked to be the backup on the birth and join the team. I had been there when her son, Jude, came into the world, and her friendship is something so special to me. Her warmth, her knowledge, her awareness, and her compassion brought another level of energy to my body. Just having her there got me through the next couple of hours.
Around 10pm, through another check, we learned that the baby’s head had shifted and my cervix was swollen. Kay was able to see that I was able to be 8 cm dilated but the swelling was causing the dilation to go back down (I’m fuzzy on these parts). But he was still good, he was safe.
By midnight, the pain for me was getting more than I can really ever explain. I remembered that I would go between hope and despair with each contraction, but the moment of hope that would come in as the contraction ended got me through to the next. But in the despair, I was so disappointed in myself that things weren’t happening how I had hoped. I was desperate to know what was happening and they did another check soon after which was painful but also changed up the pain I was feeling from the contractions. This was the check that changed our path, as once they were done, they suggested we go to the hospital for an epidural for relief.
As much as I had hoped to have a home birth and after labouring for 27 hrs, all that mattered was a safe birth for my babe and I fully trusted my birthing team.
Getting to the hospital was an adventure, to say the least. Just getting dressed was tough, walking down my hallway to the elevator was even harder, not to mention hoping I wouldn’t wake anyone with my louder than I hoped sounds. At this point, as I was having contraction liquid was coming out of me with each contraction. I was in the tub for so long, that I don’t quite know when this started but as I stood while having contractions, my lower half was soaked. We made it down the elevator, into the parking garage, and into the backseat where I sat on my knees on the seat holding Zoe as each contraction came and went. Anthony drove separately and had to have his dad pick up Lucy in the parking lot of the hospital and this was the first time she was away from me in the whole adventure and she was started to panic along with my husband.
Part of the reason I had planned for a home birth was that my own personal experiences at hospitals haven’t been great. I fully trust and believe in midwives whose ability to bring babes into the world in a safe and beautiful experience. I’ve witnessed beautiful experiences both at home and at hospitals with others’ birth stories, but what felt more in line with my beliefs was a home birth where’d I’d be in my own environment, with comforting sounds, warm lighting, and people that could care for me in a way that felt safe physically and mentally. For me, I was nervous about being in an environment that was cold, unfamiliar, and with people I had never met who might not see me as a person. And, sadly my birth at the hospital was a lot of those things. But, again, in the end, all that mattered was a healthy baby and I was always ok with the shift in plans as long as we were safe.
Once we were settled in at the hospital, they told us it would be 30 mins until my epidural. But time seemed to go on forever. The hushes in the room were becoming more obvious as contractions came and went. I knew something was happening, and eventually, I noticed the clock on the wall, and when Anth caught my eyes on the clock and covered it up with his sweater.
“Take that down,” I said to him. I knew enough to know now that we had been there for almost three hours and I asked him what was happening. Everyone got quiet with me and no one could tell me when the epidural was coming. My contractions were almost unbearable at this point, one after another, liquid drenching the bed beneath me, sounds that I never thought I’d make. The anesthesiologist came in at one point and yelled something at us, then left. More time came and went and through another contraction, I begged Kay to tell me what was happening and she leaned in towards me, trying her best to comfort me, and told me that it was gonna be a few hours before the epidural would come because there weren’t enough nurses. I felt like I had failed, and I felt scared and hopeless because I didn’t know if I could do this any longer. I completely broke down crying thru the contractions. Anthony left the room immediately and I later found out he ran to the nurse’s station in a rage. The poor guy was so frightened himself and just wanted my pain to slow down.
About thirty minutes later a nurse and the anesthesiologist were in the room and I was told it was time. The anesthesiologist was probably the coldest woman I have ever met in my life. She snapped at me that if I moved during the epidural I’d be paralyzed. My contractions were full-on body reactions at this point. I asked how many minutes it took, trying to mentally prepare to be still long enough to make sure nothing happened, and her response was much longer than I could do. She told me there were two kinds of epidural and one was shorter in length.
The anesthesiologist told me I could only pick one person to stay with me plus a midwife. It broke my heart to not pick Anthony, but I was so worried about him at this point and I didn’t want to push him to be even stronger for me. I asked Zoe to stay. With her hands holding mine, she locked eyes with me. Her eyes gave me strength and focus. She was the ultimate rock for me especially as the anesthesiologist had difficulty with the epidural and had to stop midway and start over. She wasn’t apologetic or kind in the slightest, and it was awful. But Zoe was there. Zoe was my strength and her kind beautiful eyes reminded me she had me.
Soon enough I was laying back in the bed and the pain was gone. I was smiling and giggling by the time Anth & Agnes came back in. The doctor came in and reassured us that this was the time to rest, and encouraged everyone to leave. She said they wanted me to rest for my swelling to go down and that in the morning she was confident that I’d be able to vaginally deliver.
Everyone left and soon Anthony was sleeping on the chair next to me. I couldn’t sleep, I was replaying the past hours and I was concentrated on the beeping of the machine next to me keeping an eye on the baby. The nurse was in every twenty minutes helping me switch from side to side and by 7:15 am, she brought the doctor back in to examine me. The doctor told me that I was 8/9 cm dilated but the baby’s head was still turned (which is what had caused the swelling originally) so she wanted to do “plan b”.
“Plan b”, I thought…. “What is plan b?!”.
Anth was still sleeping and I asked her if that meant I was c section. She said yes as Anthony was waking up, and then I had paperwork in my lap and before I knew it they were wheeling me down the hall. I asked her to wait for the midwives. She said she would, but we were already on the move.
I remember Anthony being directed in another direction with his hands full of our bags. And then I was alone with strangers.
I remember the cold bright room. I was laying on my back. I remember the beeping. I remember the voices talking about me like I wasn’t there. I remember the silver metal above me that showed me enough in the reflection to let me know I was laying naked waist down on the table. My arms outstretched. Wires. Cords. IVs. And then, the same anesthesiologist from before was back staring above me, glaring at me. She pricked my left side of my belly, “can you feel this?!” She asked.
“Yes”, I answered. She scrunched her face at me and pricked me again. “That?”, she barked at me again.
“Yes.” She was irritated with me. “We might have to put you under”, she barked at me.
Tears rolled down my cheek. I was scared. I knew no one in this room. I was exposed. I felt alone. This wasn’t what I had hoped for. To my left, a nurse stood staring at me. I caught her eyes, “ Where is my husband?” I asked her. I remember the warmth in her eyes, but she moved her head back & forth as to say she didn’t know. I don’t remember how long it was from that moment to the next moment where suddenly the drape was lifted up in front of me, and high, really high. I have photographed over 7 c-sections and know the height of the drape. This was higher than I remember. Suddenly there was someone above me looking down at me with kind worried eyes and I realized it was my husband, it was Anthony.
He told me they were able to keep me awake and he held my head.
“Can you take a photo when the baby comes out?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, not moving a muscle. He was frozen.
Hands still on my head.
Then further past him, I saw another familiar face, Jess, our midwife, my friend. And then, I realized next to her, being cleaned off in the hands of someone I didn’t know was a baby. My baby. I had a baby!
I was shocked, when did this baby leave my body?! Why didn’t I see him over the sheet? Why didn’t I know he was born!? Why didn’t anyone tell me!? How could I not know!?
But these thoughts quietly cleared my head, as the doctor’s words of worry started to come into my mind. He was worried about the baby’s breathing. There was meconium. The baby wasn’t crying, and then suddenly he was and Jess looked at me with confidant “I got you” eyes and said, “everything is good.”
And then she reminded the doctor, “they don’t know the baby’s gender”.
Anthony, having not left my side, or moved at all, leaned in. And he said, “ it’s Oscar”.
Jess brought him to me, she placed him on me so I could snuggle my face into him, and kiss him. She took some photos that at the time, I had no idea but deeply cherish to this day.
And then we were a family of three.
We were brought to another room where it was just us three, Jess and soon Zoe. Our team was all together and things felt warm again. Things felt safe and good.
There is more to the story, but I’m going to end it here for now because this is way too long already, but also because this feels complete, the hours (and two days actually) following his birth are a whole other adventure. But this adventure here, if you’d made it this far, this was the adventure and journey of meeting my son, Oscar, the love of my life.
