My Perfect Birth

I've done a lot of talking about my perfect birth through the course of this blog, and it has certainly been on my mind recently. I just finished reading "Creating Your Birth Plan: The Definitive Guide to a Safe and Empowering Birth" by Marsden Wagner, M.D., M.S.. This book was absolutely incredible and gave me some fuel for my convinctions. I'm now at the point where I need to draft my birth plan. What she recommends is to start by detailing my perfect birth. If everything went absolutely according to my dreams, what would my birth look like. So here it is:

Labor would start in the early morning. I love mornings. Preferably sometime between 2-4 AM. This is the time that I can feel my Grammy closest to me, and I would love to feel her presence while I'm still able to concentrate on that. I would wake Kelly up immediately. Together we would lay in bed and feel the start of it all. I would like for my water to not break and create a mess - I'd really love to be able to just enjoy the beginning contractions without much fuss or drama...quietly. I don't care how long this process goes on - an hour, or a couple of hours, but at some point, I hope there is a transition where Kelly and I know that we are in true labor, as opposed to false labor. At this point, my water can "break" if that's what it is going to do. I've read that only one in four women actually experience the water breaking "gush"...most just have a small tear in the bag of waters that leaks throughout the course of labor.

So, by now, the sun is up and it's starting to become a situation where we cannot just enjoy it. At this point, I would get up and take a shower. I want to be clean when I am in labor. I'm not certain why that it so important to me, but I do know that at some point (unless I have an emergency situation), water will be a part of my early labor. After showering, I'd like to go downstairs and get something to eat. The hospital is going to prevent me from eating while in labor, so I want to be sure to put some good food into my system before leaving for the hospital. After breakfast, I'd love to venture outside. Late April/early May is a wonderful, wonderful time to be outside in the morning. The air is fresh and clean and smells so crisp. If possible, I'd love for Kelly and I to walk in the early morning hours - around the track outside our home. I'd love to listen to the birds and enjoy the cool air while the labor gets more intense.

My goal during these early hours of labor is to enjoy the only period of time when I may be able to focus on something other than getting through each contraction. This is going to be a truly incredible time for me and Kelly and will be the only time during our labor when we are alone. I would like to be able to do the things that we love to do - be together and anticipate the next moment.

At some point, the labor will transition into something a little less easy. At this point, we'll call our doctor and let him know how long I've been in labor, how far apart contractions are and all that other stuff. We'll get his estimate of when we should come to the hospital. We live very close to our hopsital, so my intention is to remain home for as long as possible. My image of the hours between this phone call and when we actually go to the hospital is completely blank. I don't have expectation of how this period will go. I know that I want to be home. I know that I want to be free to be naked, to wonder our home, to be in any position, to eat (if I need t0) and to drink fluids. I know that I want Kelly by my side the entire time. I know that I want to be able to make as much noise, in any way, as I need to in order to get through it. I have no idea what to expect, but I trust that my body will know what to do. I take comfort in knowing that if this part completely shatters me, the hospital is only 7-10 minutes away.

When it is time to leave for the hospital, I want everything to be ready. Kelly will have loaded the car at some earlier point in labor and we'll just need to slip on my my birks and Kelly's tennis shoes and head out. I suspect that at this point, we will have both begun to feel some apprehension. Upon arriving at the hospital, I'd like to walk to my room. I don't want to be made to feel like I'm sick. I'm not sick. I'm giving birth. They will want to monitor me and do the physical exam, check my vitals and that sort of thing. I will allow that temporarily. I intend to refuse a saline lock - there is no need for me to have to endure the constant pinch that a saline lock means on the off chance that I might need medication. If there is a true emergency, I trust that they are able to get an IV in me. Afterall, they do it for people in much more serious condition than a laboring woman all the time. I will let them monitor the baby for a short time. During this period of time, I will sign the concent form that I have brought. I am going to obtain the concent form early and go through it and refuse some of their treatment (for instance, the saline lock). Additionally, I will request the concent form that I'll need to sign to refuse continuous electronic fetal monitoring.

Assuming that all is well with the baby, I hope to continue to labor as I did at home - naked, wondering as I want, making the noises that I want and doing what I need to do. In an ideal, perfect world, I will be dilated to about 7-8 centimeters before I ever get to the hospital. I want for this part of the process to be the shortest part. I do not want a "hospital" birth, so my goal is to ensure that I'm only subject to their medical treatment for as short a period of time as possible. At some point, it will be time to push. I would like to push sitting up in a verticle position. I am willing to have my feet in stirrups as long as my back can be straight. I will concent to electronic fetal monitoring during the pushing phase. However, if the monitors indicate that something is wrong, I will only concent to a c-section if position changes fail. In other words, I will not be forced into a c-section because of what may be a fixable problem. Hopefully, none of that will occur and I'll push the baby out. I will refuse an episiotomy. If I am going to rip, I want it to happen on it's own. The body tears along natural seams, while the episiotomy is cut through muscle. I would rather tear and have them stitch me after.

When Bailey is born, she will be placed on my chest. I do not want her taken from me for any reason. Her initial testing should all be done on my chest. Her shots, her eye ointment, everything. They do not need to warm her - my body can do that better than their warming machines. I will breastfeed her immediately. I do not want her seperated from my body for a while. There is no reason for her to be taken from my body. None. No medically sound reason, anyway. Doctors often will, but the research all shows that the baby does better if she is with her mother. And so it will be. They will NOT take her from me.

After all is said and done, Bailey is not to leave our room for any reason without one of us present. If they instist on giving her the first bath in the nursery, then Kelly or I will accompany them. I would prefer that they not give her the first bath. Kelly and I can manage that. We will room in (as is the policy at our hospital), and we will care for our daughter. Under no circumstances should Bailey be given a bottle, a pacifier or be taken from our room without us. If I can convince them to release us early, I will. They say they require a 48 hour stay starting from the birth, and if I can change that, I will.

Of course, being ideal, we will not run into resistance. It is our plan to discuss these options with our doctor and hopefully he will be on board. I'm willing to be flexible if there is true need, but only if there is true need.

This is my ideal. My birth plan will reflect some of this and will allow for reality in other parts. My only hope is that the birth that we have will in some way resemble this.