My birth of Elias Jude February 26, 2006
- When a pregnant woman is 10 days "overdue" and she feels like a hippo out of water, her perspective on pregnancy and labor certainly changes. My fourth pregnancy had absolutely proved that statement true. Around the eighth month of pregnancy, I surrendered any earlier hope of delivering a small baby before my due date along with my radiating pregnancy glow. It was at that point I remembered the pain of pushing and dreaded labor. My anticipated labor day passed me by and I succumbed to a new and terrifying fear. What if my body failed to start labor? I was trapped in an eternal pregnancy, with a body and baby that refused to cooperate with my plans. I tried to make the best of the final days heavy with child. After all, I wouldn’t really stay pregnant forever, right? Like any good pregnant woman who was ready to pop I complained, I whined, I cried about my misery, but every day ended the same way, with tears and some contractions but no baby.
Previously, my husband had accepted a speaking engagement based on the assumption that I would have already delivered. Well I hadn’t, and that Saturday had arrived for my husband’s presentation of his research to his fellow colleagues and students. For any normal and sane person, that would have been recognized as a high compliment but for a nutty pregnant woman that presentation was, in my mind, the exact reason why delivery had not happened. I wore the only skirt that fit my then swollen body and joined the crowd of intellectual people to support my husband. I endured the sympathetic looks and comments from professors and students alike, secretly coveting the sympathy and I could not decide what was more frustrating about that afternoon, not understanding a word that was said or not having one contraction. Grrrr, I could not believe that, unlike previous days, I had complete uterine inactivity. I did not want to stay very long and after my husband finished his presentation we left for home, only stopping to eat a stellar lunch of fast food and to have a few mild contractions. I was discouraged.
After arriving home I rushed in to use the bathroom, typical protocol for any pregnant woman, and wiped away a large quantity of mucus. Surprised, I couldn’t remember if that was normal or significant. Because I was in a vulnerable state and absolutely could not wrap my head around what I had wiped, I had called my friend and back-up doula to ask. She was incredibly positive, assuring me that I would probably have my baby that next day. Maybe because I was so desperate at that point, I believed every word that came forth from her mouth and decided to just enjoy that day with my husband and boys. Before bed I took my nightly "hot tub swim" in the Aqua doula, and hoped that labor would start soon.
Sunday morning around 2 am, I woke up contracting. They were irregular and mild, but that was a new thing, finally! I couldn’t go back to sleep and I couldn’t comfortably stay in bed while my husband slept. The problem with being married longer then a minute is the knowledge that my dear sweet husband never responds lovingly when he is woken up in the middle of the night. I knew that rousing him for a less than spectacular labor show in the middle of the night would not have been beneficial. So I opted not to wake the sleeping bear, but I was still bored and wanted someone to confirm that labor had begun. I briefly thought of alerting my midwife but I concluded that my midwife would not have appreciated a "maybe this is labor" call at 2 am. Hmmm, what could I do? At three in the morning the best solution to my dilemma was to call my doula for company and support. Graciously, she left her cozy bed and came over to my house around 3:30 am. We sat in the living room timing sporadic contractions. A little after 4 am she looked at me, slightly annoyed and partially amused, saying, "Go back to bed." Sheepishly, I headed back to my bed while she slept on the couch. I slept hard, and woke up around 7 AM feeling physically refreshed but mentally discouraged because labor had once again petered out. My doula surprised me by suggesting that we walk around the only “supercenter” in town to see if contractions would pick back up. Known as Mecca for every pregnant woman who has tried walking herself into labor, I found myself sojourning there that Sunday morning.
I had called my midwife around 8 that morning to give her a heads up on what was happening before she headed to church. Outwardly, I presented enough signs of early labor to justify that call, but inwardly I felt like the boy who cried wolf. I walked and walked willing contractions to come back but the only one I had during that time was uneventful, pathetic really. It was after 9 am and I was tired, discouraged and ready to go home. I had already resolved myself to yet another day “overdue and blissfully” pregnant.
When we had arrived back at home, my husband greeted me with, “So, am I going to work or do I need to call in?” The response that came out of my mouth was much different than the words in my head. I wanted to say to my darling, “Stay home, I am pathetic and cannot do another day in this state,” but the words spoken were, “I don’t know, just go to work.” My doula followed those words with, “No, your staying home she’s in labor.” Okay, I felt perturbed. Who was she to call the labor shots? I was not in labor and felt rather foolish rallying the troops for a labor no-show. I wanted to go away and hide in my room but she had declared her faith in my body and I was somewhat relieved. My husband called in to his work right before 10 am letting them know that his wife was in labor. After he hung up the phone he turned to me and with a teasing voice said “you better deliver.”
It is impossible for a pregnant woman to will herself into labor, and I was no exception. I had willed that magical moment to begin for weeks and as much as I had desired to please my husband and my doula, that was something I just couldn’t bring on. Then, as if heaven had opened up and the angels burst forth with song, I felt that familiar surge of power move through my whole body. It was a whopper-lean-over-the-counter-and-breath-hallelujah-I-had-pain type of contraction! Maybe my baby and my body had finally decided on coordinating their effort for labor.
I had waited so long with anticipation for those painful surges to begin that I doubted their authenticity as actual labor contractions. Apparently my doula had disagreed with my faulty assessment and called my midwife and told her I had contracted every 7 minutes for that past hour. Although I thought she had exaggerated the frequency, contracting every 7 minutes sounded better than “occasional contractions”. At that point I added, to my lengthening list of labor exaggerations, that I wanted her to begin the hour drive to my house. Wait, what had I said? What had I done? I was a liar. I had lied to my wonderful midwife and had told her to come, I professed labor. I had become an “ouch-another-contraction-must-keep-breathing-my-cervix-feels-like-daggers-are-jabbing-into-it-I-have-to-pee” liar. I wanted to call back and tell her I had lied but another surge swept over my body and I chickened out. My doula calmed my fear and suggested that I check my cervix to see if it had changed from the contractions. Obediently, I did, and discovered that a big change had taken place. The formerly long tunnel had become like a melted volcano. I decided to accept that tangible change but still somewhat believed I had falsified the intensity of labor for the dramatic effect.
Around noon, my body and my baby had begun to work in beautiful rhythm and I called my friend, who was planning on attending the delivery, and told her it was time to come. She arrived as I had just finished another contraction and I felt guilty that she had missed lunch to be with me during early labor. In attempt to redeem the situation, I suggested that we play cards to kill time. In retrospect, killing time meant one short hand of some game I don’t remember with people who were humoring me between contractions.
By 12:30 that afternoon, cards had fallen by the wayside and I had chosen to crawl around the living room floor through every contraction instead. I had finally entered into labor la-la land, focused solely on the random thoughts that rolled around in my head until the surge passed. Those contractions demanded all of my attention and it was during another painful surge I had lucidly concluded that this was labor and I wanted my midwife there with me. As I crawled around the floor, my doula took pity on me and suggested I try the labor pool. Wonderful suggestion, I was ready for it. After I got into the pool the contractions spaced out, the intensity lessened and I wondered how much of my behavior was play acting. DRAMA QUEEN flashed in my mind as I smiled for the camera, and then another contraction started. Nope, I had not been acting, that pain was real. As it faded I looked at the clock and noticed it was after 1PM. A wave of anxiety washed over me and I wanted my midwife there because the baby was coming quickly. Someone in the room assured me that she was on her way and I realized that I had expressed my need out loud.
Contractions had suddenly increased intensity and I mentally wanted to die or at least leave my body. Was I moaning or breathing with the contractions? I couldn’t tell, but it was time to go pee. I left the pool and moved to the bathroom. I hated peeing on the toilet because I had to stay there for three contractions. With each contraction I wanted to reach over to my doula and wring her neck. I felt homicidal from the pain. Just when that special torture finished, my midwife arrived. Relief took over my previous hostile feelings and I fully gave into to the process. I decided, rather it was suggested to me that laboring on my hands and knees with the birth ball would be helpful. The force of the contractions moved through my entire body and I began to struggle with staying relaxed. I glanced at the clock again. Only 1:30 in the afternoon? This was taking forever. I announced to the birthing party that had gathered in my room, “I can’t do this.” Everyone encouraged me that I could, so I kept going as if I had a choice. I verbalized that I needed my strong husband to bring me through the rest of labor and he joined me on the floor squeezing my hips as I sank into the pain. I worked hard for the next hour as the onslaught of contractions pounded me without mercy. My four year-old son came into the room to me to make sure I was okay. His sweet interruption had caused the contractions to pause so I could assure him I was doing well. He left satisfied and I heard him say to my father-in-law, “Its okay, Papa, Mom’s just having a baby”.
Contractions swept over me in full force once again and I was moaning from the intensity. I decided that I needed to know how far I was dilated. My midwife checked told me I was making progress. I knew those words are a midwife lie for “you shouldn’t be moaning, put your big girl panties on and labor like your 4cm dilated." At that point I moved from the floor to the toilet and proceeded to have an emotional breakdown. I could not handle anymore contractions every 2 minutes, I wanted to quit. My doula sat in the bathroom with me, and gave me the pep talk, between contractions, that I was almost done and my body was working beautifully, so I should get back into the pool. Ok, I thought, you are a liar, but I wanted to get back into the pool so I complied. It was almost 3 PM and I endured a contraction that was so intense I announced I felt like pushing as my water broke. I was amazed that the intensity and pain immediately vanished and I could rest, which I did, because there was a pause in labor.
I felt my mind return, I became aware again, I came back from labor la-la land. The telephone rang and I watched my friend answer it. I heard her say, “No, not yet, okay, bye.” “Who was that?” I asked. She chuckled and said, “You’re so nosey, even in labor you have to know who’s calling. It was Sean (our pastor).” Satisfied with that answer and as another contraction began, I simultaneously experienced a "farewell to labor panic attack" and stood up to exit the pool. My husband gently pulled me back down and told me to push our baby out. I didn’t want to, I was afraid. I could feel the baby moving down and my body responded with an overwhelming force to facilitate delivery. My midwife asked if I wanted to check my cervix and see where I was at. I did and I felt my baby’s head right behind a lip of cervix. I couldn’t determine what thrilled me most, that I felt my baby’s head or I identified the stretchy lip of cervix. I settled down and pushed until I felt the “ring of fire” as the baby’s head crowned. It was 3:34 in the afternoon when I pushed the head out, then the shoulders. Phew! I was done. “Just one more push.” What? I had to push again? I pushed and I felt my baby leave my body. The midwife brought my baby up to my arms, and I sat back in the water elated that my body had triumphed.
The birth of Aria Raquel August 24, 2011
I have to call this birth surrender. While there is an element of surrender to every birth experience, this one challenged my ability to do so in a way I never could have expected. Being a new doula I know very well that birth is anything but predictable and
that the textbook birth is a rarity, especially when allowed to unfold on its own. Nonetheless, when preparing for something as important as birth, its near impossible not to have some level of expectation based on past experiences. And this birth was nothing like my past experiences.
Nothing could have prepared me for the completely unpredictable nature of this birth. Part one began two weeks prior, leaving me 6cm dilated, ready, and befuddled as to exactly what happened and when it was going to finish. All of a sudden I was questioning my plan. When exactly do I bother to call the midwife? It was so straightforward before - I went into labor and had the baby. End of story. After my first part of labor though, I rather scoffed every time I would have a contraction - even a series of contractions.
I would tell myself it wasn't labor - that it was going to go away just like it did for round one and inevitably, I was right.
A couple days before the birth, I had myself convinced that I had another week. My doula, Teri, was going out of town and I knew that a long time ago. I wanted her to be there and thought that for sure I could hold out for a few more days. Looking at all the "technicalities" I was convinced I had some more time. My EDD was based on my LMP but the crown rump measurement from early in the pregnancy predicted my EDD at 4 days later. To top it off, most multips go an average of 3-4 days past their date. I'm not a stickler for due dates, but when you're in those last couple weeks, its easy to play around in your mind with technicalities. The point is, I wanted to hold out for Teri to make it and I thought I would. So it came as a complete shock to me that my water broke the morning she left for vacation. Neither of my other two labors began with my water breaking. In fact, Abby was born in the caul! With Isaiah (my hospital birth), the doctor broke my water. So needless to say I was shocked when my water broke at 4 in the morning after a trip to the bathroom the day my doula left town!
My water broke with a full on gush - there was no playing around with this one. Clear fluid, no meconium, which was good news. I called my mom and told her today was definitely the day and that I needed her help with the kids that day. Abby woke up at the same time my water broke and was up until late that morning. So my mom came down and was ready to take the kids whenever if need be. We assumed contractions would start soon. I notified my midwife, Emily, and she said she'd come over to check things out. I hung out with my mom and Abby while Arick started setting up the birth pool. We'd need it for sure today.
Around 7 in the morning I got a phone call from Kim Littau, another doula sister and friend. She said to call if I needed support and I told her I probably would. I felt so grateful to have such great support and awesome friends. :) Emily arrived at the house around 6 in the morning and checked me out. The baby sounded great, my blood pressure, temp and pulse were all fine, and everything looked good. I was still 6 cm from two weeks before and was not having a single contraction. She said to keep her updated, that she was going to the office to do prenatals, and that she would come right away when we needed her. She recommended a chiropractic adjustment and I was definitely up for that. We told my mom she could head home and get some rest since nothing was happening yet.
I called the chiropractor's office and asked when he was seeing people that day, and was told that he was not seeing anyone until 3. I mentioned that I was in labor and was not sure what the afternoon was to hold, so I was not up for making an appointment but I would if things had not picked up by then. I texted him too and told him the situation. A little while later I got a call back and he said he'd meet me in the office at 9:40am. We decided it would be a good idea to go. Just as we were leaving, a familiar little white car pulled up in front of my house and out came Kim. I was very grateful for her initiative in coming by to check on us and see how things were going. She said she'd follow us to the chiropractor's office. This could not have worked out better because poor Abby had fallen asleep in the car and it was going to be a mess at the office with the kids if she was asleep, even if we had Arick and the kids stay in the car. So upon arrival at the chiropractor's, Kim came in with me and Arick took the kids to my parent's house. The adjustment was a little more intense than what I'm used to since he did some labor-inducing acupressure as well. We knew she was in a good position for birth so that was not a concern. Kim, Dr. Streit and I all had a great birthy conversation while the adjustment was going on and it was a great way to start the day. Afterward, Kim and I ran a couple errands. We dropped off some keys for her hubby at work and filled up her car, while getting some chocolate covered doughnuts and cinnamon almonds in the process. :) I wanted to be at home so we headed back there.
Kim noticed my banana bread ready bananas and we decided to make banana bread and watch Harry Potter. I love having a friend I can watch Harry Potter with and I’m not too proud to admit that I’m a fan. Kim did all the baking while I sat and visited. We got the movie started and she was awesome enough to give me a foot massage and pedicure while the movie played and the bread baked. Around noon, Emily called me back and said we might consider trying castor oil to get some contractions started. I was fine with that, but we didn't have any. Arick was mowing the lawn and I asked him if he could pick some up for me when he was done. He said sure, and we resumed our movie. Around 2pm, I took the castor oil (nasty stuff) and thought it'd be best to try and rest before the effects kick in. Around 3:30pm or so, it kicked in. And it was crazy from there. (My times may be off from here...) The castor oil did its thing. At the same time, contractions started. The contractions were short and totally do-able. They were not like what I know or remember active labor contractions to be. These contractions were only 30 seconds long, about 2-3 minutes apart. I wanted to move around a little more but was confined to the bathroom for the time being.
The doula in me was analyzing myself trying to figure out where I was. There was no sense in that. Contractions were short, not active intensity, and yet I was having some mental signs of transition. Suddenly I was less sure of myself. I started crying and didn't know why - and I just wanted to be with Arick. I told him I was really not sure that I could do it again. He reassured me, got me through a few contractions and said he thought it was time for Emily to come over. I told him contractions weren't strong enough for her to come yet but he insisted. He said he just really thought it was time. I said okay. A couple minutes later, I started feeling the urge to push. I was absolutely not ready to push and I fought the urge for several contractions. What happened to 60 second long contractions? What happened to transition? Where were my long deep moaning contractions? What happened to active labor? Again, I was over thinking - which also made me deny that I was actually completely dilated. How could I have rational thoughts if I was in active labor?
This is the mental crux of this labor for me. It was at this point that I surrendered. I knew instinctively that it was time to push.I also checked myself and could not feel any cervix, so I knew it was time. I had to accept that this labor had gone very fast and that she was coming. It was time, whether or not I was ready. I wanted to get in the pool and I did. Pushing contractions increased in intensity a bit but they were short and I had lots of time in between them. I think my hormones caught up at this point because I was feeling the endorphin high in between contractions now. Emily was not there yet and she wanted me out of the pool until she got there. I got out and laid on the floor which actually felt really good because it cooled me off. Emily arrived, I got back in the pool and resumed my attempts to push.
They were not successful. She would come down a bit and go back up. I tried several positions in the water. Nothing. So we tried side lying on the bed. That was not successful and it was not comfortable either. Emily did directed pushing with me which helped me focus a lot on exactly where to focus my efforts. Still, she was not descending. So we tried the birth stool. That was where she needed to be born. Pushing on the stool was productive which made me glad to get it all done with. It was less comfortable though, and contractions were in my back and lower belly, which was confusing to me. It became very clear why my back hurt and why pushing took so long though, when her head came out with a hand next to her face. She was born not long after I got on the stool and it was very exciting to see her for the first time. Arick got to catch her - his second baby catch. He was thrilled that he got to do that again.
7:03 was the official time of birth. She came out beautiful without much crying at all. Her cord was short so we had her facing down for several minutes initially while we maneuvered her around. The placenta came out a couple minutes later into the midwife's hands. All I could say was that I couldn't believe I did it again. "I did it" was my mantra that night.
From there, everything was bliss. I had my healthy baby in my arms and the intense part was over. I moved to my own bed and was cleaned up by Kim and Stephanie (the midwife's assistant). Emily was monitoring my bleeding and helping break everything down. Kim got me a snack since I was starving. I took a shower in my own shower and was pleased again to have the ability to bend over and wash my feet and ankles. The things you take for granted.
My folks came by with the kids and they admired their new sister. Both of them wanted to hold her so we did the newborn exam and cord cutting about 90 minutes after the birth. Everything looked great - she was 8 lb, 5 oz - my biggest baby yet! I was a very proud mama. The kids each held her, we took a few pictures and they got ready to head back to Grandma's to stay overnight. Emily went over postpartum instructions with me and said to call her if we needed anything. Kim headed out a couple hours after the birth and I thanked her immensely for filling in last minute when she didn't need to. Just a few hours after she arrived, Aria and her daddy and I all snuggled in to bed together and fell asleep.
So, surrender. Two weeks ago, I prayed while I labored and told God that I surrendered to His will and plan for this birth, though admittedly I had no clue it was going to stop and then resume two weeks later. I did not want to force the birth to begin in my time. I really wanted it to be His chosen day for her. So I patiently (and at times not so patiently) waited those two weeks, all the while saying I choose to surrender to His plan for the birth. When my water broke, I knew it was meant to be that day, even if I wasn't ready, and I had to surrender to that. I surrendered to the urge to push when I was not ready for it. I had to accept that my back was going to hurt when I pushed and that allowed me to finish the job. I had to surrender to the fact that this was not at all like my other births and this was not going according to textbook standards at all. I am one that likes organization and a little bit of order, so having to go with the flow of how this birth was going was a challenge, but I had to surrender. I had no choice but to surrender. It is in that place of humility and helplessness that we find just how much we are truly in His hands and that His plan is always the best one. That is what I've taken from this birth so far.
