Experiencing an unmedicated natural birth was one of the most harrowing moments of my life. It was traumatic, agonizing, and downright terrifying. Even ten months after giving birth without any pain relief, the memory still floods my mind with panic and discomfort.
I never intended to have a drug-free labor. Some women meticulously plan for such an experience, spending months preparing with breathing exercises and visualization techniques. That was never me; I was all about the pain relief. Just hand me the drugs, please—and then a little more.
I’m not weak; I can handle a fair amount of pain. During my first labor, I endured active contractions for over an hour before finally asking for an epidural. I had been induced but wanted to know what real labor felt like. After 58 minutes of huffing and puffing, I called for the anesthesiologist, and everything changed once the epidural took effect.
With my second child, I was again induced but didn’t bother with the agony of active labor. I had one contraction and immediately summoned the anesthesiologist.
My third child was also induced, and I was assigned to a young nurse named Sarah, fresh out of nursing school. A less experienced mother might have felt anxious, but not me—I was seasoned in this process.
Once I reached 4 cm dilation, Sarah gave me a drop of Pitocin to kickstart labor. “Just let me know when you want the anesthesiologist,” she said, handing me a labor ball. I gave it a try, sitting on it and bouncing slightly.
Suddenly, I felt a pressure and exclaimed, “I think I have to poop!” Just as I said that, my water broke, soaking everything around me. Sarah rushed over and instructed me to walk to the bed, but I screamed, “I can’t!” I was frozen in place, terrified of the possibility I might give birth right there on the floor. Pain surged through my abdomen and back, and the pressure intensified.
My husband braced me as Sarah sprinted out of the room, returning moments later with a seasoned nurse who looked like she had seen it all. “Kimberly,” the veteran nurse said, leaning over me, “I need to check you.” Without even checking my dilation, she shouted, “Mandy! Get the on-call doctor!”
My heart raced. I began to hyperventilate, and the pain was unrelenting. “I need an epidural! I can’t do this!” I cried, my vision blurring. Every part of my body was in agony.
“Kimberly, he’s on his way,” the nurse falsely assured me, “but you’re going to have to start pushing soon.” My scream was so loud, I feared it would echo through the entire maternity ward.
Moments later, the room buzzed with frantic energy as medical staff hurried to prepare for delivery. My body had begun the birthing process without my mind being ready. I had delivered two children before, so I knew what to do—but this time was different. I was unprepared for a natural birth, and the pain consumed me.
“Breathe, Kimberly,” the veteran nurse said, getting close to my face. I could barely focus. “Look at me!” she urged.
I finally glanced at her tiny diamond nose ring. “Bear down and push. Ready. Go. 10, 9, 8…” I screamed through the push, fixated on that nose ring.
My fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly as I felt the intense pressure of my daughter making her way through. The sensation was overwhelming; I felt every inch of her pass through me. When she finally emerged, they placed her on my chest, but I couldn’t relish the moment. I was still in shock from the pain, trembling and gripping her so tightly that the nurses had to intervene. My job wasn’t finished; I still had to deliver the placenta.
After what felt like an eternity, my doctor arrived for the stitching. She applied numbing cream, but it was ineffective. I felt each stitch as if I were being pinched with pliers. “Oww!” I yelled, “She’s hurting me!” I wasn’t sure how long the suturing took, but it felt endless.
New nurses came in to help clean me up. Sarah, likely traumatized for life, was probably filing her resignation, while the veteran nurse deserved a drink after what she had witnessed. An hour later, I felt like I had just run a marathon—exhausted yet thrilled, utterly drained but also exhilarated. I held my baby close, feeling love wash over me, despite the trauma I had just endured. My husband kissed me and said he was proud, albeit a bit shaken. “I felt like I was watching a horror movie,” he joked.
If only an exorcism were that painful.
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In summary, the experience of natural childbirth can be overwhelming and traumatic, especially for those unprepared for the intensity of pain. My journey was filled with unexpected turns, but ultimately led to the joy of bringing my child into the world, despite the challenges faced along the way.