The word “induced” can bring up a plethora of responses from mothers, midwives, doulas, doctors, and the list could go on and on. It was not something I had ever really heard discussed in a positive light before giving birth to my first son and I won’t lie, I bought into the negative connotations of it hook, line, and sinker.
Going into my first childbirth I was ready. I had taken the classes and had a two-page birth plan with multiple copies done by week 32. I am known for being persistent and getting my way and this would be no different, right? Wrong. Zip forward to my over 40-week appointment and my doctor sat me down and told me I’d be induced at 41 weeks if I hadn’t already gone into labor. I was devastated. I cried as she patiently sat with me for nearly an hour explaining the process and her plan. I left knowing that my lovely birth plan had now been reduced to only trying to avoid a c-section if possible.
Over the next five days, I did everything that anyone told me could bring on labor. I tried hot fresh peppers, exercise, castor oil, raspberry tea, and sex, all for naught. Looking back those five days of stress and frustration were the only parts of the first pregnancy that I regret. I say that because inducement wasn’t the end of the world. On the day of our inducement, we went to Panera for breakfast and then calmly drove to the hospital. There was no broken water (until about 14 hours later when done by the doctor) and no hard contractions while driving, it was lovely. We arrived at the hospital, they started my IV with Pitocin almost immediately and inserted a foley bulb about a half hour later. That was all I had from 8 am until 9:45 pm when they gave me my epidural and removed the bulb to break my water. Of course, things didn’t go smoothly and the inducement did not hurry my labor along but it was not the devil I believed it to be. My doctor respected my wishes and did everything she could to avoid a c-section when our son flipped and when I still had trouble dilating.
I thought I wanted a dramatic labor and birth story, and while my labor was far from uneventful, it was not the dramatic beginning I once aspired for. It wasn’t my first choice but it also wasn’t a bad choice either. It was a less dramatic beginning, but a far more relaxing one. My husband and I think back fondly when we talk of that lovely last breakfast just the two of us that began our final journey to welcoming our son and becoming parents.
