Lydia's Birth Story

I love birth stories. All of them. New life coming into the world. And pain. And joy. 

Before I had my first baby, I read so many birth stories. (Maybe I thought reading beautiful birth stories would help my labor and delivery?) 

So I've made it a mission to write my own birth stories. 

Here's Lydia's. Two years late...but oh well. There's another story coming soon. ;-)

***

Twenty plus months later, here I am still processing Lydia’s birth. Her “birth” story begins when I was 28 weeks along.

As is typical for the end of the second trimester, I took my fasting glucose test. The results of that test were normal—no gestational diabetes or any concerns—with one exception: my iron levels were low, making me “slightly anemic.” A midwife from the practice called to tell me to take an iron supplement.

So I bought one. And took it. About a week later, late at night as I was trying to fall asleep, the bottoms of my feet started itching—persistently. I scratched at them, which made them itch even more. I figured I must have dry skin, so I slathered lotion over them. That helped a little. I still had trouble falling asleep but after a couple hours, finally did.

The next night, my feet itched again—a burning, prickly, stinging sensation under the skin. I was frustrated. I was just into my third semester and couldn’t afford to lose sleep over this! In the middle of the night, I got up and turned cold bathwater on and chilled my feet. Relief.

Scurrying to the kitchen, I grabbed ice packs from the freezer and layered the lotion on. As I got back into bed, I threw the covers off and tucked the icepacks in-between my feet. The only way I could sleep was to numb my feet entirely.

Itching feet for two nights in a row? What was the cause? Since itching usually means some kind of allergy, I reasoned that something I was exposed to or ate created the problem. The only change to my diet was my iron supplement. Was iron the cause? After a quick consult with Dr. Google, I reasoned that my iron supplement was taxing my liver, and stressing the liver caused itching.

Convinced the iron supplement was at fault, I stopped taking it immediately. At my next midwife appointment, the midwife asked me if I was still taking my iron supplement. I sheepishly admitted that I had stopped taking iron, and explained why. She frowned and expressed concern. “There’s another reason you might be itching; I’d like to run a blood test.”

She mentioned Cholestasis of Pregnancy (also known as Interuterine Cholestatis of Pregnancy or ICP). I didn’t understand everything she said, but I caught I might need medication and an early induction due to the increased risk of stillbirth past 37 weeks. Stillbirth? I panicked a little.

Even knowing the risk, I still couldn’t help but think of everything I learned from my Bradley Birth class: let the baby come when the baby is “ready”…the “safest place for a baby is in the mother’s womb.”

Early induction was really the answer? Little did I realize that for an ICP pregnancy, the safest place for a baby in utero is not the mother’s womb toward the end of a pregnancy.  

I got a call back in the next day or two—my liver enzymes were elevated (indicating stress on the liver). Based on my itchiness and elevated liver enzymes, I was diagnosed with ICP and proscribed Ursodiol.

In my ignorance of ICP and it’s seriousness, I didn’t take the medication right away. My bile acid test hadn’t come back yet, so maybe everything was fine. Over the next couple of days, I took the medication only about half the time. Then, I got a phone call from the midwife: my bile acid levels were elevated, indicating I had ICP.  She told me to schedule an induction at the hospital between 37 and 38 weeks—in three weeks.  

I had difficulty accepting the truth. “So, you’re telling me to call the hospital now and schedule an induction in three weeks? You’re sure I need to be induced early? That’s not going to change?”

“I’m sure.” She replied calmly. “Schedule the induction.”

I called Jason and told him. Then I called the hospital.

At some point, I began to research ICP. I don’t remember what I read exactly. But I learned essentially this: the liver doesn’t properly function, causing an interference with the flow of bile and leading to a build up of bile acids in the blood. And, “Elevated bile acids in the blood are associated with increased risk to the unborn baby.” (Source: ICPcare.org, http://www.icpcare.org/what-is-icp/overview/)

The next three weeks I was busy planning for the new baby and handing off my teaching responsibilities to another instructor (since I was now supposed to give birth before the semester ended).

They were a long three weeks. I did kick counts constantly and drank so much orange juice to help my baby move. My placenta was anterior, however, so I never felt kicks in the same way I did with Aleigha. Going having a healthy, normal pregnancy to a high risk one caused much stress. I cried every time I didn’t feel “enough” baby kicks. I went in for non-stress tests twice a week, and the baby always did just fine.

The induction date couldn’t come soon enough. I went in to prep for my induction on Sunday, April 19 around 6 PM.

Jason and I ordered pizza and I got settled into my hospital gown. The nurse strapped a baby heart rate monitor around me and I felt so much relief. I didn’t have to worry if my baby was moving; the hospital would now be alerted if anything went wrong.

The midwife on duty inserted a Cook Cervical Ripening balloon to help ripen my cervix (I think I was only 10% effaced maybe and not dilated at all). She told me that it “could” cause labor to start on its own, but that was unlikely.

Jason and ate our pizza and watched some TV. Around 10 PM, I felt really drowsy and the ripening balloon was making me have small contractions. I tried to sleep but the contractions were getting stronger. They made sleeping difficult. I cried and prayed that they would stop so I could get some sleep. At some point, Jason rubbed my feet, and I relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The nurse came in at 6 AM and woke me up to prepare for the induction. I was allowed to have a shower and sometime during morning the ripening balloon fell out (OK, I might have pushed it out...let's call that birthing practice). 

The next several hours I breathed through contractions. I was thrilled when I reached 7cm. The midwife told me if I wanted an epidural, I should ask for the anesthesiologist. I decided that if I reached 7cm, I could go the rest of the way on my own. Then, the contractions seemed to get completely out of control. I felt panicky—it seemed that the whole room was closing in on me. I wanted to scream for everyone to leave me alone, but at the same time, I was scared to be alone.

I decided I wanted the epidural after all. I remember that trying to sit still while the anesthesiologist gave me the epidural was difficult. And, Jason and I aren’t sure, but we think the nurse slipped some kind of sedative into my IV at that point, since I just couldn’t seem to calm down.

The epidural took the edge off the contractions, but I still felt a lot of pain. Looking back, I was probably just going through transition. In hindsight, I regret the epidural since it took effect on only half my body. Oh well. 

Lydia was born shortly afterwards, at 4:20 PM, weighing 5 lbs. 13 oz and measuring 19 1/2 inches. She was beautiful and healthy.