Epidurals

I have been thinking about how to write about this topic for quite some time. There are few
words as loaded when it comes to childbirth. Doulas, midwives, nurses, your sister-in-law —
they all have opinions. I remember a complete stranger yelling at me across a playground when
I was pregnant the first time to “Just get the epidural. I am a nurse.” She shouted. What the
fuck, lady? Simmer.

I am definitely not a doctor, but I sort of understand their argument. Years of study, very little
long-term risk, way less pain = get the needle.

Nor, am I a doula/midwife, but I think their key argument is something along the lines of:
intervention is the devil and ends in C-section = squeal like a donkey.

I have had two labours now, and it pains me (literally) to say that #1 was drug-free and with #2, I
took the shot.

With W I was dead-set on drug-free; nothing in the world could have convinced me otherwise.
And so I did it. And I did it well, I think. But W came out pissed. He was red and angry and the
room was chaos and my husband looked like he was going to pass out and I did pass out. But it
was wonderful, obviously. I felt everything and I felt really in tune with the process. I knew what
was happening and where the baby was and, for lack of a better term, it was very “animal.” I just
went to a zone and got that baby out. (This is the short version of the story).

With LouLou, if I am being totally honest, my heart just wasn’t in the fight. Maybe because I
knew what the outcome would be, maybe because some part of my mind hadn’t “forgotten” how
bad it gets. I took hypnobirthing, I had my doula, I was ready with all my coping techniques, but
when the pain got really intense (both my labours were Pitocin-induced at ten days over) I just
cried and said, “Please get me an epidural.” I just wanted it; maybe I was curious, and maybe I
was tired. I’m not saying it was an easy choice, but at the time there was no choice. I was out of
my mind with confusion and contractions. Fast-forward about an hour: the doctor checked me
and said “You are ten centimetres. You can push.” I was actually laughing when LouLou came
out. The room was quiet and so was she. I was definitely high and it was definitely different.

There was a young student doctor in the room, fascinated with my previous natural birth, who
looked at me as I snuggled my newborn and said, “So you preferred the epidural, yes?” I am
still shocked at my quick thinking in that moment. I said, “Well, no. I loved both my births and the
one prepared me for the other. I was able to survive this one because of the first one.” There
was no way I was giving this girl the satisfaction of hearing that, yes, an epidural is superior.
And I don’t think it is.

I simply wish there wasn’t an argument about epidurals. Or breastfeeding. Or homebirths. Just
do what you have to do. Get the baby out and try not to kill yourself in the process. Be flexible in
your beliefs and accept some days you are able to get a nine-pound human out of your vagina
and some day’s life is easier if you get a spinal tap.

-Tightrope Mama