My Big Ugly VBAC. It wasn't pretty. But it was mine.
"You don't understand, I really can't do this" I whined. "Doesn't he GET IT" I scream in my head "I SUCK AT THIS!". I am caught. The contractions continue to be unbearable and I am fighting them and angry and this is definitely not helping.... I hang off of Brett. My tears are falling on his teeshirt, I grip him, hold him as if his body alone can keep me aloft on the terrible waves. I love him so much. I am so mad at him.... And Meg says "let's do this for one more hour and then we can check again and see". I snarl "HALF AN HOUR! I can't do this for an hour" and I find myself walking back towards my back yard, ending up at the steps to my deck. Pause for hellish contraction.... I stalk to the futon and order Meg to check me. "NOW". Snarling again. I don't care that I'm being rude. Just check me and tell me that nothing has changed so I can screw everything and go to the hospital and start my horrible nightmare that I knew all along was inevitable... I absolutely did not believe I was going to be able to push the baby out. I would push during a contraction (without an urge) and then in between contractions I would float away into my fantasy of how I was going to end up in a hospital room flat on my back with someone using forceps or vacuum on me. I was imagining what position I would be in in the car while I transported. Probably hanging off of the front seat, facing backwards, kneeling on a towel. Yes, that's it. And I would have horrible tearing but it would all be worth it because at least the baby would have come out of my vagina. Yes, that's the thought process of me during pushing. What a birthing goddess I was, eh? I was lost in my self-centered world of pain and agony and despair and self-doubt... I'm still caught in the disbelief world... I still am thinking that something is going to happen that will necessitate transfer to the hospital. Time passes. Push. Rest. Fear. Rest.
And then, I can't quite put my finger on it, but something changed. A realization came upon me. And it went something like this.
No one else can push this baby out for you.
I didn't like hearing that. Even if it was only the Voice In My Head saying it.
No one else can push this baby out for you. You have to do it. The only way out is through. You have do it. I have to do it. Me. No one else can do it. It has to be me.
WAAAAIL!!!! *WHY* can't someone else do it for me? PLEASE! That would be sooo nice, can't someone else, why not Brett, he can do it.... not me, I don't want to.
No one else.
No one.
And then I started to really push. Up until then it was mostly fake,
"I guess I'll push but I don't really buy into this whole 'baby is coming out' myth that y'all are believing" pushing.
It was the pushing of someone who didn't believe it would happen.
I still didn't believe it. But I knew it had to be me. So I pushed. I pushed through that pain. I now understand exactly what that phrase means. I want to go back and read through all those birth stories I read when I was pregnant the first time and jump up and down and point and say YES, YES I know what that MEANS now, I really KNOW! I know what it means to push through the pain of a contraction. I did it. No one else but me.