For my first birth, I had a plan. I went to the prenatal classes and paid very close attention. I researched birthing options almost obsessively. I knew what I wanted. I was going to labor “naturally”—using breathing exercises, walking, and the fancy hot tubs in the brand-spanking-new hospital in which I was giving birth, and absolutely no epidural. It was going to be great. I was going to be a birth warrior, hear me roar. Then all hell broke loose. And then I started to change my mind on epidurals.
I began to question all of my life decisions, not the least of which was why I ever decided I didn’t want an epidural.
For the first 12 hours of my first labor, I knew I was having contractions, but they didn’t seem to have any particular agenda. Eventually, I called the health hotline and went to the hospital to be sure, only to learn that I was already several centimeters dilated. For the next 12 hours, I tolerated labor without pain medication. I walked the halls of the hospital like Lady Macbeth. I breathed. I stood in the hot shower because, despite promises that had been made, the fancy hot tubs were not yet hooked up. I was a birth warrior, hear me, well, moan heavily.
Once I fainted in that shower, however, I was told I needed to lie in my bed and was given an IV to help things along. I began to question all of my life decisions, not the least of which was why I ever decided I didn’t want an epidural. The pain came on strong and fast. I got the epidural. Then I fell asleep.
I didn’t regret that epidural, but I viewed it as a one-off. Yes, I had had it, but I had been in labor for what seemed like seven years. Plus, being confined to the bed and having been given medication to speed up my labor—surely those were unusually strong contractions. I would definitely do it epidural-free next time.
Fast-forward five years to find me in the same ward, in the middle of a much shorter, complication-free labor, begging my husband to knock me out. I was a birth warrior, hear me yell, “Just hit me!” Declining my request to punch me in the head and put me out of my misery, my husband left me with no choice for relief but to ask for an epidural.
I cried when I asked. I apologized to my husband. I apologized to my midwife. I had convinced myself I only got the first epidural because of the length of the labor and the interventions. But here I was, only a few hours into labor and intervention-free, begging for a needle to my spine. My midwife and my husband reassured me there was no need to apologize. My midwife explained that shorter labors can be more intense, which probably explained why I had torn off all my clothes and stood screaming in the middle of the room like the worst King Kong impression ever.
The process felt more like taking a number at the deli counter than having my cervix rapidly stretched to the size of a salad plate.
Everything changed the second the needle went in. Everything slowed down. Everything calmed down. I got comfortable in my bed and began to chat with my husband and midwife like we were having a coffee date. Where moments before I had felt so out of control and so removed from the situation, I now felt present and excited to meet my new baby.
It wasn’t a long wait. After about an hour, I began to shiver and was informed it was time. From the moment I got the epidural, I had the birth of my dreams. No longer in agony, I was able to really enjoy the experience. I was focused on my baby’s entrance into the world instead of my own pain. The process felt more like taking a number at the deli counter than having my cervix rapidly stretched to the size of a salad plate, and I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t happy about that. My son entered into a room filled with only calmness and smiles. It was absolutely perfect. My only regret was not asking for the epidural sooner.
Never again did I consider an epidural a last resort. I knew immediately that if we ever had another child, I would be putting an epidural right into my birth plan. I stopped seeing it as giving in to the pain, and started seeing the epidural as a tool that allowed me to be fully present and only joyful for my child’s birth. I was a birth warrior, hear me shut down all mommy guilt about my decision to get an epidural and advocate for my own needs.
Epidurals aren’t for everyone. Birth is very personal, and very individual. For many, the choice not to have an epidural is what works for them, and allows them the birth experience they cherish. And certainly, there can be risks involved with having an epidural—it isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Despite this, and maybe even because of it, we need to destigmatize epidurals. I would have been better off acknowledging ahead of time I may want one and properly making a plan with my birthing team rather than screaming out when I had reached my limit.
I was a birth warrior, hear me shut down all mommy guilt about my decision to get an epidural and advocate for my own needs.
We also need to remember that medicated birth is no less special and of no lower status than unmedicated birth. Have an unmedicated birth. Have an epidural. Have your baby standing on one foot, belting out the entire score of High School Musical. Have whatever birth your baby needs—and whatever birth you want. I firmly believe I had such a wonderful, magic birth with my second child because of the epidural, not in spite of it. I am grateful to have had the option.
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