Here's my story. Its a long story about a short event that will change my life forever.
My newest baby boy came into this world in a powerful way. The day before his birthday I was SO PREGNANT. That's really the best way I could describe myself. My doula sent me a text in the evening to check in on me. I could hardly keep my the despair out of my texts. "I don't think I can take another month of this" I said to her. "hang in there, it wont be long now" she responded.
At exactly 38 weeks pregnant I woke up at 4:45 the morning of the summer solstice, June 21, feeling intense contractions. These surges were so fast, so hard, that I didn't even recognize them for what they were. Honestly I thought for a few minutes (hour?) that I was sick. (If you don't know this about me I always think its not real labor. Every time now. Its a very obnoxious way that I handle giving birth) After a several trips to the bathroom I called my sister at 5am. I was trying to get across to her just how fast and furious the waves were hitting me. ("if they even are contractions") I told my sister that I was having my third contraction since I called her, (if its even real) and she let me know that we'd only been talking for five minutes. You might think that was the moment I knew, but instead I just kept thinking.. "this can't be real. this can't be happening SO fast".
We talked about what I was feeling, and whether this was indeed labor day, or a day I would forever remember as the time I woke up my birth team because I ate bad Indian food. After a few more minutes of pacing, sitting, standing, everything hurt. Nothing I was trying was changing the pattern. Some part of me recognized that this was indeed labor, and not a gastrointestinal event. I was anxious to have my doula and midwife with me, and I was clear enough to know that I don't normally want company when I am having "bathroom issues". I asked my sister to call my doula, and I called my midwife. My call to Mary (the midwife) was awkward. Maybe, maybe not I was telling her. Could just be Indian food... In my head a small part is screaming "GET OVER HERE" but my mouth just wouldn't cooperate. Thankfully she's a good midwife. As soon as we got off the phone she remembered a conversation we had when we first met where I let her know that for some reason I go into denial when in labor. She called me right back to say she was on her way, that I should wake Matt up (yep, I hadn't done that) and try to eat something.
I woke Matt up at 5:30 and asked him to make me some toast. Oh, and ya, I might be in labor. I could just be sick. He was making the toast all wrong. Seriously. The way he was cutting the bread was actually pissing me off. (isn't labor sweet?) I asked him to just leave me alone and please set up the birthing pool. I happened to still be on the phone with my sister who claims that she thought she could tell I was in transition then. I was actually gagging at the thought of eating my toast. I set that aside and got into my filling pool. Ava was up by now and took over as my birth partner. She held the hose on my back while I labored.
I was trying to find my inner peace, but my body had a different idea. This was not a labor to "go inside" as I was planning. This was a "get out of the way mentally because the baby's coming now" sort of labor. I started to feel 'pushy' just as my midwife arrived. In the next twenty minutes I....
~got out of the pool to eliminate in the toilet
~got back in
~my water broke
~announced "thank god I am not faking"
~had a moment where I yelled "I just shit all over myself, get me out of here"
~got back on the toilet
~was told by my midwife that if I was going to push the baby out I might want to get off the toilet and onto a birthing stool
~moved two steps to the stool
~yelled "I don't like this" (honestly this was not the pretty breath the baby out I had planned)
~pushed once and asked "can you see anything?"
~pushed another one, maybe two times, and brought my baby into the world
~Said "oh thank you baby" (I was so grateful it was over)
~At 6:34 I declared "Its a boy!"
One hour and forty nine minutes.
As I lay there watching I was just so grateful that I was at home. Had this been a hospital birth my baby would have been swept away for observation. This would have been treated like an emergency. It really was okay. My baby was strong, and my midwife experienced. I don't even think of that part of the morning when I look back on the day.
Mary. She was just what I needed during my pregnancy, labor, and postpartum. She always knows just what to say to keep me relaxed, and confident. That is not an easy thing to do. She has many gifts.
I am so grateful for Dawn. Knowing I had her on my side helped me to mentally prepare for my labor. She was so loving while she literally spoon fed me eggs. She took care of me with a loving heart. She is also responsible for all my birth photos!!!
I am so grateful for my sister in law Rachael. She cleaned my kitchen, washed and folded laundry, and ran out for food when postpartum pizza was needed. But she also took special care of Cyrus that morning. She was the best friend he needed to get through a tough transition of no longer being the baby. Matt and I can not thank her enough for that.
I am so grateful for my mother. She stayed the night (she would have anyway) with the special job of being the baby's nurse if he stopped breathing again. I was able to stay peaceful knowing that her skills where there if we needed them.
I am so grateful for my little sister to walk me through yet another game of "Maybe I'm in labor, but maybe I am not"? Thank you Betsy!
I am so grateful for this baby who knew just how to be born.
I am so grateful for my body who knew just how to birth him.
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