I am so friggen proud of myself. Seriously, I cannot even put into words how proud I am of myself. Why am I so proud? I did not give into fear. I had faith. I stayed positive. I did what I knew in my heart was right. I trusted in God and myself and doing so resulted in what might be the most amazing experience of my life. In the hours immediately following my daughter's birth no hands touched her precious little body that did not belong to someone who would be there for her, and love her throughout her entire life
The day before my beautiful little girl was born, John and I had a fight. I was one week past my "due date" at this point and I was absolutely inconsolable by this fact. Tears would randomly stream down my face every time I thought about it for days leading up to this point. This was my final test. I had shaken off all of the other outside sources that would seek to control this labor and birth, but I still wanted to control it. I was standing in my own way and I simply had to let go of the reigns and fully give it over to God in this final test of faith. I kept obsessing about how I didn't want her to come too close to Christmas because I wanted to be able to go to my family's annual gathering on Christmas eve. I certainly didn't want to go to the Christmas eve gathering still pregnant, that would have been even more unpleasant than going too soon after giving birth. I didn't want her to come on the 22nd, because that's my niece Maddie's birthday and I wanted Both Maddie and Rowan to have their own days. Ditto for Christmas eve and Christmas day. And then of course there was the sheer discomfort of being nine months pregnant and having been feeling crampy and having Braxton Hicks contractions (or as I started to refer to them: BS contractions) for weeks. There was also the matter of John's vacation. He had gone on vacation starting the day before my due date. He had four weeks to take. I wanted to make sure she came in time for me to recover, and get into sort of a groove with her before I was left to handle things on my own for 40 hours a week while he was at work. I just wanted her OUT, and sooner as opposed to later. It probably didn't help that I was bored out of my mind. It seemed like the last week leading up to her birth had been spent simply waiting. I had gotten everything done weeks ago in anticipation of this birth, now what?
All of this self imposed stress came to a head on Monday, December 19th when I wept in the shower and told my husband to "go away". Not my proudest moment for sure. I would say I could count on one hand the number of times I have told him that I didn't want him around but the truth is I can't. I honestly cannot remember another time I have said anything like this to him, although I know it probably did happen earlier in our relationship. He was just so tired of the weepy, emotional, stubbornly unwilling to surrender to God's will pregnant woman that he had been stuck with for the past week and he said something a little snappy and hurtful; but who can blame him? The fight wasn't even that bad, but it hurt. Feeling separated from my husband is the single worst feeling in the world for me. Because no matter what else we are dealing with, our relationship is what I cherish above all else. It should transcend the BS; and whenever I feel like it gets a little mud flung on it from our day to day trials I just could not feel worse. We were ok by the afternoon. I apologized for being such a pain. I promised to try to do better keeping the faith. I wrote a little in my journal about what exactly was getting to me, that helped me work through it as well.
That evening we had talked about, um, making up. But it didn't end up happening. We drifted off to sleep with the promise of doing that making up in the morning. I had a feeling that the next day would be the day, and that our "making up" would be the catalyst to really get it started, but I kept my feeling to myself. I didn't want to be wrong and feel silly. We woke up, and true to our word to each other we spent a little bit of quality time together before getting up to get the boys off to school and face the day.
So sometime in the neighborhood of 7:30 AM on Tuesday, December 20th, I found myself standing in the kitchen packing the boys' lunches for school having regular contractions. I had been having contractions for weeks, but there was something different about these, these felt "real", despite the fact that they were still painless. However, I didn't say anything to John about them as I wanted to be absolutely sure it was showtime before I filled him in. I just didn't want to add to all of the waiting for baby stress and tension that had built up by saying that I thought it might be the day when I wasn't absolutely sure. I started making little preparations around the apartment though. He may have had an idea of what was up on some level. He's pretty in tune with me, and I'm pretty sure he's able to detect even the smallest of changes in my behavior. Or maybe I'm giving him too much credit! I decided to walk with him down to the bus stop that morning though, which I hadn't done since he started his vacation. This might have given him a little hint that something was up. I really didn't want to have to talk to other people, but I thought a walk would do me good that morning. After we got home from the bus stop I had my breakfast and then decided I'd go walking some more. I had done this several times in the past few days, but I had always driven somewhere and walked indoors to stay out of the cold. It was actually not terribly cold that day and I didn't want to be out somewhere and find myself in the throes of active labor and faced with the daunting task of driving myself home, so I decided I'd just walk around the neighborhood. So I told John I would be back and headed out the door. I didn't time a single contraction during this labor. Instead I kept a mental tally of the number of contractions I had while on my walk. The final tally was something like 12 (I'm not very good at keeping mental tallies while in labor ok!) and it took me about a half an hour to walk around the neighborhood twice. So the contractions were coming every 2-3 minutes. By the time I got back to the apartment the contractions still weren't what I would call "painful" per se, but they were definitely building in intensity, getting more and more uncomfortable. I could still walk through them, but if I had taken a third lap around the neighborhood I'm pretty sure I would have had to stop walking when they came.
Upon returning home I asked John if he wanted to watch an episode of NCIS on OnDemand with me. I needed something to help pass the time. I was bouncing and rolling my hips around on my yoga ball while we watched, and at this point I was starting to have to focus on breathing through the contractions, but they weren't so distracting that I wasn't able to follow the show or anything. When John got up for a cigarette when the show was over he said "So do you think she'll be a Christmas Eve baby, or will she wait for Christmas day?" I said "I don't know, I'm having a lot of contractions now, so maybe she'll come today." I was still sort of in denial at this point, I just didn't want to get my hopes up only to wake up another morning still pregnant. Before John even came back inside from his cigarette I said to him, "Yeah, this is really happening. These are starting to hurt a little." So in the space of about two minutes I left the state of denial and came to the realization that I was really and truly in labor! It was kind of exciting!
After John came in he went to his computer to mess around on a game and I followed him to the computer room to play around on-line. Almost immediately I started feeling restless. I just couldn't sit there, but I didn't know what I wanted to be doing instead. I got up and went into the bedroom. I laid down in bed, hoping that maybe I could doze between contractions. I knew I was well past the point of being able to sleep through them. At this point my mom called. I told her I was in labor. I hadn't planned to tell her when I was in labor, but she had called so it seemed like the thing to do. She got a little panicky, I even detected some tears in her voice. I did my best to reassure her reminding her that I could survive labor. I had done it twice before after all. Her concern was actually kind of sweet. She told me she had had to go into work that day (she usually works from home) but to call her if I needed anything. About five minutes after we hung up she called back to tell me that she was going to be in a training session but she was leaving her phone on and to call if I needed to. It was kind of cute. I think she must have gotten permission or something to leave her phone on because her daughter was in labor! Well a few contractions later I realized there would be no sleep. So I got up and started building myself a little labor/birth nest next to the bed.
I had a DVD on for entertainment between contractions. I was kneeling behind my yoga ball and leaning over it during contractions. I think I started vocalizing a little at this point. At around 2:00 PM John came in to check on me. I told him the contractions were really hurting but I was managing ok. He came back just before he had to go get the boys off the bus, a little over an hour later. I told him to hurry back, that it probably wouldn't be too much longer. Of course both the stupid buses were late that day! He was gone for something like 30-35 minutes. The boys burst into the apartment all excited because John had told them the baby was coming. John set out to get the boys occupied so he could really focus on helping me birth the baby. Kaleb asked for his help building this little plane kit. Meanwhile my contractions were picking up in intensity. I decided to try a new position to see if that would relieve some of the discomfort. I decided to lay on my side on the bed. The first contraction that hit in this position told me that this was no better, and may have even been worse, but moving without help at this point was kind of out of the question. John sent Teagan in to watch over me. It was kind of cute. A few minutes later I felt a tale-tell popping sensation. I struggled to sit up so the fluid would leak out and I could make sure it was clear. Well, my belly was in the way and I could not get up on my own. I sent Teagan to get John. He checked the fluid and said it was clear.
At this point I was feeling a lot of pressure and decided I needed to be sitting on the toilet. I think it was around this time that I entered transition as I entered what they call "labor land." This is when my brain did some fun stuff. It was like I was conscious of the two hemispheres of my brain for this brief window of time. I was pushing with contractions, and part of me knew this. That part wasn't filling the other part of me in though, I was still (partially) in deep denial about how close I was to actually giving birth. I actually stuck a finger inside myself to see if I could feel her head yet. The finger was all bloody and I was sitting there staring at it wondering what the hell that was all about. John asked me why my finger was bloody (he was kind of in and out of the room at this point, trying to keep the kids occupied) and I sort of gestured to him to explain how it got that way. He wiped my finger clean, which part of my brain thought was really sweet. I started grabbing onto the bunched up shower curtain which hung right next to the toilet and pulling with every contraction at this point. I think I yelled a few obscenities too. I think I said the classic "I can't do this" too, but only because some part of me was aware that I was in transition and I knew that's what you do in transition! John asked if I wanted him to run me a bath. I don't know if I answered, but he did it anyway, just in case I wanted it. Our tub is tiny, so when I was still in my right mind I knew a water birth was kind of out of the question, but at that point I would have done anything if I thought it would bring some relief. Once there was some water in the tub I asked John to help me get in it but he told me the water was too hot and I had to wait for some cooler water to run into it to even out the temperature. I got down on my hands and knees, leaning over the tub just looking into the water. I still hadn't mentioned to John that I had been pushing for several contractions. Somehow I ended up facing the other directions, with my head towards the bathroom door, but I have absolutely no recollection of making this change. I was sort of half on my hands and knees and half squatting. I had my left foot on the ground, but my right knee, and I had my left hand on the ground and I reached up with my right hand to discover that the baby's head was crowning. This was incredible. I had never before felt a baby emerging from my body with my hand! I know it sounds like it wouldn't make that much of a difference, but it did. I was so much more connected to the whole experience. I knew exactly what was happening from the waist down because I felt it with my hand. In a hospital environment you don't usually do that. You're on your back and there's a stranger sitting between your legs and touching your own genitals isn't exactly something you do in front of strangers, and all you feel down there is intense pressure so you don't exactly know the exact moment your baby's head starts to come into the world.
Anyway, when I felt her head crowning I told John she was coming right now. He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. By the time he maneuvered behind me to catch her, her head was out. He told me she was sideways, and I said I know, because I felt it with my hand! She came out facing my left thigh. Which is why after her head was born, she slipped right out. John got there just in time to catch his baby and keep her from hitting the floor! After that we just sort of stayed exactly as we were for a few minutes, sort of taking it all in. I said "holy shit I just gave birth!" We hadn't even turned her over yet, John was still just holding her there underneath me. We could tell she was breathing though. She was moving and squeaking and stuff, definitely showing signs of life! Finally we turned her over and saw her face for the first time, and confirmed that she was, in fact, a she. The first time I saw her face it was sort of like "Oh, it's you! Of course!" I mean you spend nine months wondering what this little creature is going to look like and then when you see them it's like "Well duh! How could I not have pictured that ten minutes ago??" I finally told John to look at the clock. It was 4:53PM. We figured we had probably sat there dumbfounded for about 3 minutes or so, so we estimate her time of birth was 4:50PM on Tuesday, December 20th. I finally maneuvered myself into a seated position. John wrapped her in a towel and handed her to me. Then we waited. I desperately wanted to get into that bath, but I was nervous about getting in with her still attached to me. Even the slightest movement of the cord caused an intense stinging pain in my nether regions, but I wasn't ready to cut the cord yet either. We were waiting for it to go limp, an indication that our baby received the maximum amount of placental blood possible. I really had wanted to wait until I delivered the placenta, but I just had to be in that tub and I had to keep anything from jarring the cord hanging out of me. So we finally tied it off with some embroidery floss that I had braided earlier during labor for this occasion, and John made the cut that separated my little girl from me. I got into the tub feeling much relief. After taking her out to the living room to briefly introduce her to her brothers, John handed her to me and began to clean up the lake of birth fluids that now covered our bathroom floor.
My mom showed up an hour later, which was absolutely perfect. If she had come before Rowan was born her presence would have changed the outcome of the birth. Nothing personal against my mother, but she would have been a ball of worry and stress, and there's no way that wouldn't have had an effect on me, even had she been in another room. I would have felt inhibited as well. For example I can't say the "F" word in front of my mother, but when I was pulling on that shower curtain during those contractions on the toilet I was growling the F word! Anyway my mom showed up just in time to meet her precious new grandchild, and help out with getting the boys fed some dinner. I was lying on the bed still having VERY intense (read: painful) after pains as I had not yet birthed the placenta. Shortly after my mom arrived John handed the baby over to her so he could help me off the bed and into a squat to see if we could get gravity to act on the placenta. Well it obviously hadn't fully detached yet as gravity and some VERY gentle traction on the cord wasn't doing anything. So John supported my squat and managed to reach around to massage my abdomen with his hands and out it came. I then took a quick shower, got myself dried off and dressed and settled into the rocking chair to nurse her. (I tried multiple times to get her to latch on prior to this, but she was just not interested. She needed a break after birth. She has since made up for this brief delay about a billion fold!)
Oh we estimate that she weighed 9 lbs 1 oz. John weighed her using the wii fit (stood on it by himself, then holding her)! She weighed 8lbs. 14 oz. when we took her to the pediatrician the next day so we think that's pretty accurate. Which makes her my biggest baby by a whole pound! (Kaleb was 8 lbs. 1 oz.)
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