Whenever I’m asked about my son’s birth, I preface the story with, “I’m crazy, but…” It’s as if I want to soften the blow of what I did that day. I was to be induced, with Cytotec and Pitocin, and I didn’t get an epidural. Pitocin-induced contractions are significantly more intense than drug-free ones. To many women, being induced without an epidural is just too much. Or a little bit crazy. Or downright insane.
But it was just what I wanted to do.
So here we go — I’m finally going to say it. Ready? Here it is: I am anti-epidural. But let me be clear — I’m anti-epidural for me. Not for you, mamas of Boston. It’s your body, your choice. For me, epidurals were not the way.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I was determined to have a non-medicated childbirth. My mom had done it that way, and I’d always been curious about whether I could do it too. And I’ve never been big on taking drugs unless it’s absolutely necessary. I really wanted to find my inner warrior mama and make it through without the epidural. And I did. Through 35 hours of labor, no less. I felt strong and incredible, like I could do anything. (Also, exhausted. Did I mention that one?)
The next day, in the hospital, I went to a breastfeeding class. My baby was sucking so hard that I was in a lot of pain, and I wasn’t sure if I had the correct latch. It seemed that my problem was unique; everyone else in the room had a different issue — their babies wouldn’t rouse enough to suck for very long. The lactation consultant asked everyone to raise her hand if she did not have an epidural. Only one other woman raised her hand with me. “That’s your answer,” explained the consultant. “Their babies aren’t awake yet — the drugs have to wear off.” It really made me think about what I wanted for my children.
When I was pregnant with my second child, I once again was determined to go drug-free. (And even more so because of a few horror stories I’d heard of epidurals that went wrong, with post-birth side effects that included daily migraine-level headaches that needed to be treated with heavy painkillers for months after!) But at my 41-week appointment, I was diagnosed with too much amniotic fluid and was told I had to be induced that evening (look up polyhydramnios if you want to know the potential dangers). I burst into tears in the office, certain that the perfect birth I’d dreamed of was out the window. Induction means heavy drugs, like Cervidil and Pitocin, and I only knew one woman who’d made it through an epidural-free childbirth with Pitocin-induced contractions. Only one.
But that one woman’s story was my beacon in the darkness. I knew she had done it, so it could be done. If it could be done, then I could do it. And I did it. It was awful and painful, but it was so much what I wanted to do. (Supposedly, I started talking about the possibility of getting an epidural somewhere in the middle of that whole thing, but a few minutes later it was time to push.)
And let me tell you, after that child was born? I felt like I could do anything. And it’s been my mantra ever since. Getting a flu shot? I can do this — I made it through Pitocin-induced contractions without the epidural! Getting blood drawn? I can do it — Pitocin with no epidural, that’s me! A 30-day eating challenge without any sugar? I made it through epidural-free childbirth, this is nothing! (Actually, it was really freaking hard, but I did it.)
Giving birth without an epidural made me feel strong and fierce. Even now, six and three years later, respectively, I haven’t lost the power of that feeling. But that’s what worked for me. In no way, shape, or form were either of my births perfect or easy, and I do not hold them up as if they are what all births should be. Put simply, they were just MY births. And experiencing them without an epidural worked for me. (Let me once again reiterate: It doesn’t work for everyone, nor is it the right thing for everyone. And I firmly believe that the best thing in childbirth is to do what the mama and doctor/midwife say is best.)
Yet, as strongly as I feel about epidurals, if I were to have another baby, I wouldn’t completely rule it out. I think birth — and life, for that matter — are about being open to possibility. Sometimes that possibility works out perfectly. Sometimes it works out to be really crappy. It’s how we react to life’s surprises that makes us who we are.
Eventually, the details and memories of our birth stories fade; they are less about defining who you are and more about defining who your child is. Like so much of motherhood, it is no longer about us. We celebrate the birthdays of our children, not the day we gave birth to them. And that’s perfectly OK. In fact, it’s how it should be.
Parenting Perspectives: Choosing a C-Section
Parenting Perspectives: Choosing an Epidural
Parenting Perspectives: An Ode to My Midwife
