Birth Story: Part II - It Happens

(In case you're keeping track, the following entry was written in many stages.)

ND is sitting with her Savta (grandmother) right now, so I have a few minutes to write. Hmmmm... where shall I start? I believe I shall tell my story in abridged form as the handwritten and very personal description of it in my personal journal took up many many pages.

As a reminder, ND was born on Wednesday, Dec. 6. The Monday before that at about 7 PM I first began to feel light contractions. It was the first time I felt a sensation of something starting and stopping instead of just feeling a constant crampy feeling. However, since I'd had one false alarm after another, I didn't know what to think. In fact, by 12:30 on Tuesday I still didn't know. That was the time for my pre-scheduled ultrasound to see if my baby was still safe in the womb past my due date. (That's when my picture was taken in my "Cast of Characters" entry.) When I saw my midwife afterwards, she said I could give birth that night, or I could in a week. As we talked I paused now and then and asked her to wait as another contraction came and went. But the litmus test for a strong contraction is apparently being unable to speak through it. At that point, I still didn't know what that meant, so these were not terribly serious.

On my way home I even ran an errand and found myself getting really angry at the person who was helping me, a good sign it was time to seclude myself at home.

Once home, I called U. and asked him to start working towards coming home. I let him know there was nothing really to worry about, but that it would probably be nice to have him here. This reminded both of us of the following flashback.

By the time he got home around 5 I was in bed and sort of panting between contractions which were increasing. I still felt pretty calm. Excited maybe. I'm not sure in retrospect. We called J., my doula (a birth coach), who also sounded calm. She said she'd come by just to check me out and see where things were progressing.

When she arrived a little after 6 I had started moaning with the contractions. She sat with me a moment and instantly I started to cry. When she asked why I said it was because I finally had someone to help me do it. It was just such a relief to have a coach there with me who could talk me through the process and who had experience. I really don't know how people do this without doulas.

As I said, her plan had been just to check me out and then head home for awhile. But I must have been further along than she expected because she changed her mind and said she'd run out for dinner and to tuck her kids in, then would be back.

I'm able to keep track of the timing of this part of the story because, oddly enough, while she was gone, I watched The Simpsons. I'm not sure why. I didn't really enjoy it, but I wanted a distraction and I guess I was still trying to stay in the everyday world a little. But I watched it from my hands and knees and muted the TV during contractions and commericals. U. sat by me, waiting to do anything I asked.

After that, the events of the night begin to blur and I won't trouble you with all of them. The basic summary is that when J., returned, we had folded the futon out and I laid down there to "get some rest before things got serious." I assumed that the labor would mostly consist of me moving around between all the different laboring postures we'd learned until my contractions were 1 minute long and 5 minutes apart. At that point we would drive out and meet my midwife at the hospital.

That's not what happened.

As I said, we laid down to rest before the labor advanced that much, but the contractions quickly grew quite intense and I found that moving just a little brought them on. Instead of a steady pattern that could be timed consistently, I would have one horribly intense contraction followed immediately by an aftershock, and then about a 7-10 minute wait for the next one. So I laid there on my left side for several hours, working through those. J. laid down behind me and rested until she heard me moaning with a new contraction and then would talk me through it. "Your body is doing exactly what it's supposed to," was one of the things that really helped me. Also, she constantly had to remind me to moan LOW, to help push the baby lower into my body. High pitched noises would have caused me to tense up more.

Some of the highlights of the night then included throwing up, which J., told me counts for 10 contractions, and moving to the bedroom where I had a soft mattress on top of our other one. Going to the bathroom was agony because moving to and from the room brought on more contractions. I fell asleep between most of the contractions in bed and commented at one point that that meant that each time a contraction came, it was a startling awakening to suddenly remember what was happening.

At one point I saw a clear and strangely colored vision of a tree. Gray-brown. Intricate leaves like snowflakes.

Somewhere along the way, U., called Emarcy to come, and she arrived around 1, clearly nervous and shaking both after the 3 hour middle -of-the-night drive and by the strangeness of seeing me like this. I found that looking her in the eyes while U. gently held one of my feet and while J. continued to coach me were so important.

At last J., called L., the midwife, to see if they could figure out what to do next. Everybody on my team wanted to go to the hospital. U., especially, was clearly anxious to start this part. He had several times practiced the drive to and from and felt that that was his most important and most clearly defined role for the day. However, I did not understand that I might be further along now because I was surprised that I was still in bed. And as I said, every time I moved, a contraction came, so I was loathe to do that. Finally J., said, "You know, if we go to the hospital, you can can use that nice bath in the birthing room."

"I bet it's really warm," Emarcy said.

There was this silence then, one that U. and Emarcy said was the most dramatic of the night before I finally said, "I think I'd like to use that bath."

Then came the agony of getting to the hospital. I had to: 1. Change my clothes. 2. Somehow get through my hallway, into the elevator, down to the basement, and up the short flight of stairs to the car. 3. Somehow survive sitting in a car for 20 minutes as U. drove.

I managed by leaning my entire body weight on either Emarcy or J as they scrambled to gather their things and help me get mine. U. had long ago taken my hospital bag out to the car, so the only things I needed were my shoes and my coat, but even that seemed like a major feat.

Also difficult was the elevator ride down because I had a contraction at the bottom. That's all fine and good, except that I get claustrophobic and was past the point where I could explain that easily. "Don't like elevator. Open," I think were how I communicated that piece to my helpers.

The car ride was hard because reclining was absolutely impossible for me. I thrashed around and cried out in panic the minute I tried it. So I rode to the hospital on my knees in the back seat facing out the back window and watching J.'s headlights. It was around 3 AM so there was no traffic and U. drove with tunnel vision, extra carefully following all the traffic rules and watching for obstacles. Needless to say, the curves and bumps in the road were very upsetting.

When we pulled up to the emergency room, U., was out in a flash and before I knew it, there was a wheelchair waiting for me. In my wheelchair post, I worried about that, but it turned out to be most welcome.

J., and Emarcy raced me through the halls while I moaned loudly, fully aware that anyone could hear me, and choosing not to mind. We found the birthing room and right away my midwife checked me and discovered I was already 9 cm dilated! J. later said that at that moment she saw the blood rush back to my face. I couldn't believe we were almost there.

Still, we had said I was getting in the tub, so I was going to do that. All my clothes came off and I headed over there when another contraction hit. I leaned on the side of this high tub (like a hot tub), but I ended up never moving past that point. I couldn't figure out where I would sit, and L., said that since she thought she saw some meconium in the fluids that were now dripping out of me, she didn't want me to give birth in the tub.

So for a long time I just leaned against the side and entered a strange new state of being. Somehow I was unclear of when it was OK to push, but the word "push" had somehow entered into conversation in the room, so I began to try to do it. It was probably during this period that I felt my most animal-like, staring around the room and shifting through different states of consciousness as everyone else quietly waited with me. I don't know what was said or done to or around me for the most part. I do remember a nurse grilling U. with my weight and height etc. (which he didn't know) and my firmly commanding, "OUTSIDE!" I also remember getting blood drawn and, for the first time in my life, not caring in the least or even minding seeing the needle in my arm.

Eventually L, and J., decided I should be moved to the bed because the birth wasn't progressing. They tried to convince me, but I was hesitant. I guess that as I've pursued this natural birthing path I assumed that using a bed would be inappropriate. After all, that's the UN-natural way they always show it in movies and on TV. But they were right. First I pushed while lying on my side, J., and Emarcy moving my legs for me with the contractions. Then later I was on my back. It was so strange after not being allowed or able to lie on my back for the past 6 months of pregnancy to do it now. But it was the most effective position right now. Besides, the bed was not parallel to the floor, but slanted way up. I held onto the bars on the sides of the bed and pushed as hard as I could.

Originally with the pushing, I treated the contractions as I had before, relaxing my body and using my voice to let out the pain. But J., instructed me to swallow my moans and to use the energy for pushing instead. So now I would swallow, then push as hard as I could until I couldn't stand it anymore. At that point I would end in a scream, and it was remembering the sound of that later on that helped me remember how hard it was. My body itself forgot so quickly.

Around 5:30 or 5:40 I discovered there was a clock on the wall opposite me. For weeks I had been asking how long it would be before my baby would arrive. Now I said aloud, "I want my baby here by 6:00 AM." My midwife smiled and said, "OK." That's when I knew I could do it.

Oddly enough, I began to lose sense of what I was doing. At one point they told me I could touch the baby's head, but I couldn't tell what was "head" and what was "me" and I really just wanted my arms back on the bars of the bed. It seems odd to me that while anticipating that moment for so many months, I just wanted to move past it.

Then after several more "just a few more pushes" J., suddenly sternly said, "Look down now!"

...and there was my little girl.

Again, it was a blur, but I heard myself say, "Oh my G-d oh my G-d oh my G-d" and touching her enough to get blood on my hands and really wanting it to be there. It meant that I got to touch my baby right away before she was cleaned up.

U. said he was amazed at how quickly I changed from this strange other kind of being back to myself instantly, laughing and joking and so totally happy.

And there was my baby.

Sadly, she had lots of fluid in her lungs and so a pediatrician and some nurses had to take her to the side and do some scary looking things with her, but my midwife seemed okay with everything, so I just relaxed and looked on.

There was my baby.

From here out, the players in the show sort of gently drifted off. Soon the pediatrician was done and I was holding her in my arms. I remember thinking how precious her little tush was in my hand and knowing that soon it would always be covered in a diaper, so I should enjoy it now.

J. taught me to breastfeed. Then she disappeared, giving Emarcy a ride to our apartment to nap.

U. finally went with my baby to the nursery where they had to do some required things to her, and my midwife and a nurse stitched up a few tears.

Then they left and it was just me, U., and our baby.

And then U., left to take a nap and it was just she and I.

We spent the day with me holding her, gazing at her, trying to nurse her, and sleeping with her in my arms.

That was all only two weeks ago.