In this series we share birth stories of all kinds from mothers around the globe — with the hope that they inspire, educate and inform expecting mothers. Interested in sharing your birth story? Email us at info@themamanotes.com  Read more birth stories here.  

BABY NAME: CAMILLA APPEL LARSEN

MOTHER NAME: AMELIA LARSEN

BIRTH SIZE: 7 LBS 1 OZ, 19.5 INCHES

LOCATION: BOSTON, MA

BIRTH DATE: JUNE 7, 2016

I was convinced I was going to go into labor early. Not only was I experiencing weeks of false labor contractions but my OB had mentioned at earlier appointments that she wasn’t expecting me to make it to my due date due to my progression. Clearly, our little baby girl had other plans.  On June 6th, I waddled into my OB’s office for our 41 week appointment with a feeling of disappointment that I still had no baby. I wish someone would’ve told me how difficult it was not only physically but emotionally to go past your due date (especially by a week). We met with our doctor who also seemed surprised to see us.  She stripped my membranes hoping to jumpstart actual labor and proceeded to ask me a few of the usual questions. When she asked about the baby’s movement I casually mentioned that I hadn’t really noticed the baby moving much, but I had assumed it was due to the lack of space. Little did I know the impact of my response. It seemed to quickly set off alarm bells and we were put into another room for a stress test. I knew in my heart everything was okay with the baby but it was still nerve-racking to see my OB so concerned. Even after some ginger ale, the baby still seemed inactive. We were told to head to the hospital directly. 

At this point I was starting to get a little nervous, but not freaked out enough to not stop for pizza (clearly pregnant lady mindset!). At the hospital we were taken back immediately and my belly was hooked up to another stress test, which picked up movement instantly (my daughter apparently loves pizza!). Everyone was feeling relieved at this point and the on-call OB suggested getting things started with a pill (which was explained to us as a more gentle form of Petocin). Since my induction was scheduled for early the next morning, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to help the process along. After monitoring the baby and confirming that she had no reaction to the medicine we were released from the hospital and told to come back in a few hours for another pill. 

It was mid-afternoon now and I was excited to make the most of this window of time.  I decided to get a manicure, and started to feel mild contractions during my appointment which intensified on my roughly one mile walk from the nail salon to our home. Even though I felt my body beginning to go into labor, the walk back was one of the most special moments I’ve ever experienced. I had done this walk almost every day as an engaged lady, a newly married lady, a pregnant lady and I knew this was the last time I’d walk through this garden before becoming a mom. As my body contracted I too was shifting and changing and even evolving. At one point I decided to sit on a park bench to take a little break and in an attempt to slow down this moment and process. Although I was fully embracing this next adventure and chapter of our life, I knew that a part of me would miss having my baby girl with me every moment of every day. I wanted to have one last park date with my little girl while she was still in utero. I smiled to myself as I slowly stood up and headed back. I felt so fortunate to walk in the door to a delicious home cooked meal of shrimp scampi, my favorite. I’ll always remember that quiet moment of enjoying one last meal, checking my bag one last time, before we headed to the hospital. We gave my mom a final big hug as our chariot (Uber-chauffeured Prius) whisked us away around 7:00 pm. Our driver happened to be playing classical music which was nice. We relaxed and settled in as he cruised us down Storrow Drive.  It was the golden hour for sunlight, and sailboats were criss-crossing the Charles River. We’re getting ready to meet our baby girl! 

As soon as we arrived back at the hospital we were taken to a room in triage. The first few hours after our arrival are spent waiting. Waiting for measurements to be taken, tests to be run, and for active labor contractions to get going. The on-call OB is clearly a seasoned pro–she even had a lanyard with an ovaries-shaped key chain.  We’re in good hands, and in for a long night. We’re moved to a room that’s much more comfy so the nurse can begin the Pitocin— this room is also where the delivery will happen. After 3 weeks of pretty consistent false labor pains, this moment felt very official.  I spent some time getting everything in line work wise while the Pitocin still hadn’t fully kicked in. The nurses took note of how relatively comfortable I seemed and decided to up the dosage of Pitocin. More Pitocin means more contractions but for me, the real pain was the back pain. It felt like someone was taking a hammer and hitting me in my lower back. It felt like the contractions were occurring in my back instead of my belly which wasn’t what I was expecting at all. We decided to do laps of the hospital floor as a way to get my mind off of the back pain. The Labor & Delivery floor has railings strategically placed on the wall so you can stop and breathe through a contraction. The bar is never more than an arm’s length away. This was so helpful!  One of the nurses suggested a few moves we can do together to allow me to brace for each contraction while my husband applied pressure to my back to counteract the excruciating pain. 

Once I had reached 5 cm dilation, around 2 am, it was time for the epidural. Once the epidural was inserted the pain seemed to subside a bit but I wasn’t in this relaxed state that I had expected. My left leg felt numb as a result of the epidural but my back pain worsened as the minutes passed. We call in the resident who increased the dosage of pain medicine and adjusted the location. It seems to be working. YAY! As I try to sleep I’m woken up be a whole new level of nausea inducing pain and now the nurses have paged the Head of Anesthesia. The woman who hustled in seemed many steps higher on the ladder than our initial resident and is in the process of setting what she promises will be the last epidural. They have to wait until my latest contraction is over before they can insert the final epidural. The pain was so bad I began throwing up at the same moment my water breaks. It was the most unique sensation of fluid uncontrollably rushing out of your body. After experiencing hours of intense back pain with minimal relief the release felt refreshing even if this refreshing feeling only lasted a moment. I instantly informed the nurses my water was breaking and both women excitedly informed me that vomiting and having your water break at this stage were solid indicators that I’d be pushing sooner rather than later. I was happily surprised to hear this and shared in their enthusiasm. Bed sheets are quickly swapped out and the final epidural was set and the pain began to fade. At this moment, roughly 5:30 am, I’m feeling so relieved that I’m finally able to rest. I begin to close my eyes when the OB comes in before the end of her shift and checks dilation. She looks discouraged by the progression and lets me know I should meet my baby by dinner time. To me 5:30 am didn’t even register as breakfast time so I couldn’t imagine being in labor another 12 hours (or more) to meet our sweet girl. At this point my husband and I both decide to close our eyes and get some rest. It’s clear we have a big day ahead of us. 

I’m able to somewhat comfortably rest for the next few hours, I’m woken up at 11:30 am by a nurse who says that my mom is downstairs and wants to come up to visit us. I’m excited and asked the nurse to bring her to our room. I’m thrilled to see her but as she walks in I’m struck with a terrible migraine (likely due to the epidural). I still feel so exhausted and nauseous. My mom suggests a cold compress for my head and that instantly helps with the headache and allows me to relax if only for a minute. I close my eyes and try to just focus on breathing. My energy level is low. A new OB comes in around 1 pm and says I’m just about 10 cm and that I’m going to need to get ready to start pushing soon. I’m so excited that the time is here but I tell the nurse I’m really concerned that I’m not going to have the energy to get the baby out. I feel so thirsty, already exhausted from being up all night and feeling like I have no energy. She explains this is a normal feeling and brings me some ginger ale to sip on which helps a ton. 

I asked if the could dim the lights before starting to push to create a more relaxing environment (an idea that was mentioned during our hospital tour). We had made a few different playlists (an upbeat one, a more meditative one, etc.) but in the moment I opted for Pandora’s Spa music playlist. It was exactly what I was envisioning and craving in that moment. The nurse showed my husband how to hold my leg when a contraction was coming and she explained to me how to push. I start pushing and immediately the baby is making great progress. The pushing felt more natural and intuitive than I was expecting. After 30 minutes of pushing and a lot of positive coaching from my husband, the progress was at a standstill. The baby is “sunny side up” which explains the back labor I was experiencing during the last 18+ hours (and even during the weeks leading up to the actual labor). This also explains why I had made a lot of progress quickly but now each time I stop pushing the babies head rocks back. This quickly creates some frustration because each effort to push doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. The nurse gives me a pep talk about the importance of not only starting strong when you’re pushing but also finishing strong too and also pushing for even a few seconds longer than I feel like I physically can. I continue to push and watch the clock as the time seemed to pass by quickly. After pushing for 2 hours, the on-call OB comes in for another pep talk, she has me push for her and shares how close the babies head is and that I just have to keep the momentum going. She even asks if I want to feel the babies head or at least use a mirror to watch myself push for motivational purposes. I politely decline both offers. The OB reassures me that she has faith I can get baby girl out on my own. Another hour goes by, another encouraging pep talk is given this time by my husband and the pushing continues. The nurse quickly picks up the phone to call the doctor to come in and deliver the baby (she shares that the head was so close and she could see a lot of dark hair) but just as quickly as she picked up the phone she put it back down and said the head had disappeared again. UGH. Baby girl was really going to make me work for it. In a moment of feeling deflated I share with the nurse that I really am giving it all that I’ve got and I’m growing even more exhausted and don’t know how much more I can push especially at the intensity they are requesting (which was due to the babies positioning). 

The OB comes back in to check again after 3.5 hours of pushing and says it looks like we need to try another approach either forceps, vacuum, etc. She says based on the positioning and how far down she is using some type of assistance would be very straightforward and she’d be out quickly. My husband asks if we can continue pushing since neither the baby nor my self were showing any medical signs of stress. The OB agrees to this but lets us know she’ll be checking back in in a half hour. I knew I could physically get this baby out on my own. I just needed to find and pull from another pocket of inner strength. With even more encouraging words from my husband and the nurse and a handful of more consistently strong and long pushes, the nurse picks up the phone and calls the OB in to deliver our sweet baby girl. From this moment on, everything seemed to happen very fast. The OB sets the scene, in charge a team of maybe 5 nurses, and the overhead lighting blasts on–it all feels like lights, camera, action!  One big push, one small push, this time the OB says to look at her as our little makes her appearance.  The first cries we hear are sweetest, tiniest cries you could imagine.  The OB said she was a beautiful baby and before I could even look at her my tiny crying baby was placed on my chest. In an instant, she’s wiped down, wrapped up, and the pit crew of nurses vanishes even faster than they appeared.  I’ve never felt a more surreal feeling. I couldn’t believe I had delivered her and that she was mine. Not just mine now in this moment, but forever mine. I know it’s obviously been said before, but the whole delivery is truly an out of body experience. As I held this sweet baby close, my husband leaned in with tears in his eyes and whispered “Hi Camilla. I’m your daddy.” He looked up at me and just kept saying over and over “Thank you. She’s so beautiful.” The phrase “love at first sight” really does seem like the biggest understatement.