August 26
I had just hit 38 weeks
and was feeling every bit of it. Comparing how I felt then to the final days of
my pregnancy with Dawson — and the fact that he came early — I was sure she
would come early too. Just sure of it.
It was a typical busy
week; I saw patients in the clinic all day on Monday. I didn't sleep well the
previous night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. I was nauseous
and only had an appetite for cereal. The following day, I sat through seven
hours of class and lab where we learned about normal physiologic birth. I
stayed after lab and asked my professor to check my cervix — of course, she
declined.
I felt off when I got
home. I lost some mucus plug and attempted to check my own cervix (thanks for
nothing, Dr. Marzalik), which I believed to be 3 centimeters and 50 percent
effaced. Baby girl was sitting low at -2 station and there was some blood. I
had Josh order pizza for dinner. Out of discomfort, I leaned over the labor
ball for an hour or two. After we ate, I was up for taking a walk, so we did
just that. I was experiencing regular contractions that weren't painful and was
generally uncomfortable both physically and mentally. I texted my beloved
midwife, Amy, with a brief update as I contracted throughout the walk. I was
determined to "put myself into labor." (I am almost a midwife. I
should know better than this.)
Nothing about the rest
of the evening lead me to believe labor was imminent, so I cleaned the kitchen
and went to sleep. Around 1:30 a.m., I woke up with the same regular,
uncomfortable, but not painful, contractions. Wanting to move things along, I
got out of bed, picked up Dawson’s playroom, tried to stay moving by pacing
back and forth on our beautiful creaky wood floors and typed the very sentence
you’re reading now. Contractions came about every two to five minutes — lasting
50ish seconds but remaining mild. The midwife in me knew it would be wise to go
back to bed and rest, knowing things would pick up when they were ready to; the
excited mom in me wanted to push it. After an hour, I decided to eat some
cereal, hydrate and go back to bed.
The next two weeks were
some variation of what you just read. Physically and emotionally exhausting
doesn't even begin to describe how this experience was for me.
September 9
The due date. It was as
if I'd been tracking an Amazon package that was scheduled to be on time for
delivery. I had no reason to believe it wouldn't arrive punctually. But the
estimated day came and went, and there was no longer any way of knowing when it
would arrive. The ambiguity of when I would go into labor was all-consuming. My
mind filled with irrational fears that something was wrong with me or with the
baby. I wondered if my body was failing me. Not only was it taking an emotional
toll on me, but my body was weary from weeks of little sleep and mild
contractions.
September 14
Josh was working late,
and I'd been mildly contracting every three to five minutes most of the
afternoon. I just wanted someone to be with me, so I asked Erin, my kindred
spirit-turned-doula, to come hang out and she graciously agreed to. We took a
walk, chatted and did our best to keep me distracted and relaxed. Nine o'clock
rolled around, and we decided it was best for me to go to bed. I expected
things to pick up that night, but they didn't.
September 16
I woke up feeling not
fully rested and starving. I was scheduled to be on-call with my clinical
preceptor, so I checked in with her. There was a patient in labor, and I was
torn about whether to lay low or head into labor and delivery to attend someone
else's birth. I texted Amy for advice and she responded, “Lay low. You’re going
to have a baby. Rest. Sit in the sun.” I was completely unconvinced that this
baby was ever coming out but I took her advice anyway. For the first time in
over a week the weather was perfect — 78 degrees and not humid. I ate some
toast and eggs, sat on the front porch with Ellie Holcomb serenading me through
my AirPods while I sipped pregnancy tea in a ceramic mug made by a dear friend.
I did my very best to relax. After an hour or so of solitude, I was still
hungry so I ordered an overpriced Northstar cheeseburger and sweet potato
fries. I spent the rest of the day sleeping and eating. My body knew what was
coming, and I'm so thankful Amy encouraged me to listen to it.
Around 10 p.m., I
wrapped up a homework assignment and went to bed. At 12:26 a.m. on Sept 17, I
woke up out of a dead sleep to a fierce contraction unlike the ones I'd been
having for three weeks. And then came another. I breathed through it and
grabbed my phone to start timing them: four minutes apart and lasting a
minute-and-a-half. I figured I'd work through them on my own for an hour or so
before waking anyone up. But after one more they were coming every two minutes
and I knew I needed help. At 12:37, I went downstairs and called Amy. During
the four rings it took her to answer, I second-guessed myself: I only had
three contractions. Why was I calling her so soon? Surely she'd get here and
I'd only be 4cm. Our phone conversation was just one minute long, and the
only thing I remember telling her was that I didn't know if she should come but
that my contractions were f– intense. Amy lives 40 minutes from me, and she
quickly agreed to come assess things, but since I expressed some hesitation,
she said she would hold off on calling her sweet assistant, Brittany, and our special
guest, Pat (the sweetest recently retired nurse-midwife who I accurately refer
to as a local celebrity) until she got here and knew for sure that it was go
time. I was comfortable with that plan as I felt stressed out about the idea of
waking people up unnecessarily and wasting their time.
I went back upstairs and
woke up Josh. I told him I'd had a few intense contractions and that Amy was on
her way. I sat on the edge of his side of the bed as another contraction washed
over me. He watched me work through it and reality set in for us. We shared a
very brief emotional and intimate moment of joy and relief that all of this
waiting and anticipation was finally coming to an end. And then he quickly got
to work connecting the hoses to fill up the birth tub, he brought my favorite
popsicles upstairs from the deep freezer, and did whatever else people do when
they're having a homebirth and not the one in labor. On my knees leaning over
the couch, I worked through a few more contractions before calling Erin to come
party with us.
I was still in this
place of slight denial. The educated part of me knew that with my contractions
coming as frequently and as intense as they were, that I was nearing
transition, but the other part of me was confused as to how it happened so
quickly. How did I skip most of early labor? Surely, this wasn't right. I guess
as it turns out, three weeks of mild contractions weren't for nothing.
Erin lives less than a
mile from me and arrived quickly. She came in and sat beside me, tenderly
rubbed my back and provided me with the encouragement I needed. Amy arrived
shortly thereafter. I don't remember greeting her or having any exchange of
words but I do remember Erin telling her that things were happening fast, and I
thought to myself she has no idea what she is talking about. According
to Amy, as soon as she walked through the door she could tell by watching me
that I was about to have a baby, so she called Brittany and Pat immediately.
She checked the baby's heart rate and asked about getting the tub set up. I
told her I didn't want to get in water until I was at least 6cm because I
didn't want to slow things down. She suggested she check my cervix but I was
hesitant because, again, I was sure I was going to humiliate myself by not
being very far along. Another contraction passed, and I agreed for her to check
me. "You're a seven or an eight," she said confidently. I had never
once doubted Amy's knowledge or abilities, but in that moment I seriously
questioned her cervical exam skills because there was no way I was
dilated seven or eight centimeters. I kept saying, "What?! There's no way.
There's just no way." When did it happen? How did it happen? I was as
confused as I was relieved.
Josh and Amy got the tub
and supplies set up and during that time I was particularly grateful for Erin's
presence. Her only job was to be with me and she held that space so beautifully
and with ease.
At some point, which I
don't remember, Brittany and Pat arrived. I got into the tub as soon as it was
set up. Someone turned on my birth playlist and Josh and Amy boiled some water
to warm the temperature of the tub, per my request.
(From left to right: Pat, Erin, Amy)
I quickly hit transition,
and it was literally all hands on deck from then on. Amy applied counter
pressure to my sacrum which I could have sworn was going to burst from the
intensity of this labor. Although I have no recollection, according to those
attending, I uttered things like, "This is so stupid" "Guys,
this is really bad" "This is too much" "*Explicit*"
"I'm going to pass out," and my personal favorite: "I'm going to
die." I do remember vomiting a few times, the last time being incredibly
violent and Amy saying that I "lost some cervix with that one."
She
checked me and I was nine centimeters. I knew she was right this time. The
intensity was otherworldly. I had to be close now. Pat suggested that I change
positions, even for just a minute, to finish off the dilation. I rolled onto my
back and miserably worked through what would be the final contractions of this
labor. Pat stepped in and adjusted my neck to lay more comfortably over the
tub. She rubbed my head, put my hair up, and encouraged me by telling me how
great I was doing. I could feel my head melt into her hands.
I didn't last long
in this position but evidently it did the job of getting rid of that last
centimeter of cervix because before I knew it I had rotated back to my hands
and knees feeling the urge to push. Apparently, I asked if the baby was out
before I even began pushing. Then with every fiber of my being I roared so loud
that my throat hurt for two days. I could feel every rotation her body made as
it left mine.
Within a couple of minutes her head was out, my water broke, and with the next contraction, at 2:27 a.m. — just two hours after this all began — her body followed. Amy told me to catch my baby to which I replied, "No, you." I have never been so physically overwhelmed.
Within a couple of minutes her head was out, my water broke, and with the next contraction, at 2:27 a.m. — just two hours after this all began — her body followed. Amy told me to catch my baby to which I replied, "No, you." I have never been so physically overwhelmed.
And just like that, it
was over. And yet it had just begun. She was here, on my chest.
Just as we started to soak her in, we realized Dawson was upstairs crying from the thunderous sounds I made as his sister was born. Josh brought him down and we began to bond as a family of four.
I got out of the tub and moved to the couch where I delivered the placenta. Josh lit the candles that weren't a priority earlier on. Adelaide calmly rested on my chest and with some help from Amy, she latched and nursed for a bit. It was the most peaceful golden hour — uninterrupted and surrounded by nothing but love and care. Dawson enthusiastically cut the cord and Brittany gently assessed her dainty little body: Six pounds, six ounces, and 18.5 inches long. Ten days later than her brother but just slightly smaller. Ten fingers, ten toes, appropriate reflexes — she was flawless.
I got out of the tub and moved to the couch where I delivered the placenta. Josh lit the candles that weren't a priority earlier on. Adelaide calmly rested on my chest and with some help from Amy, she latched and nursed for a bit. It was the most peaceful golden hour — uninterrupted and surrounded by nothing but love and care. Dawson enthusiastically cut the cord and Brittany gently assessed her dainty little body: Six pounds, six ounces, and 18.5 inches long. Ten days later than her brother but just slightly smaller. Ten fingers, ten toes, appropriate reflexes — she was flawless.
We headed upstairs where
I took a quick shower. Amy dried me off, helped me dress and took me to our bed
which she had just made. I couldn’t help but think that this is what it means
to midwife: to be with women. She tucked us into our bed and in that
moment particularly, I couldn't imagine being anywhere but home. We were all in
bed by 4 a.m. and everyone but me quickly fell asleep. I laid there, completely
high on the experience, and marveled at what had just happened. Dare I say I
can't wait to do it again?
One of the very best times of my life. And you are a warrior, all the ways. It's an honor and a joy to be your kindred spirit. Love you!
ReplyDeleteAhh, I love this so much ❤️. I loved so much about pregnancy and birth and I just love following other people's stories! I can't wait to do it again too, I remember thinking that soon after Calvin was born and thinking how crazy that sounded, but seriously, I can't wait!
ReplyDeleteI love this. You are amazing.
ReplyDelete