Warning:  This is a birth story.  It contains details about birth.  Some people of the squeamish variety may prefer not to know the details of birth.  Personally, I find them fascinating and wanted to share them with the world.  Enjoy!  Or not… 🙂

June 14 had come and gone.  It wasn’t until the 17th that my body started showing signs that it was preparing for labor.  And they were the kind of signs that told me I still had days left.  Finally, on the 19th, I got the sign I’d been looking for, telling me my labor would likely begin within 24 hours!

But still no contractions.

I had more energy on the 19th than I had in previous days, so I spent the day washing and folding laundry, picking up toys, and making homemade pizza.

“This must be what nesting feels like…” – a recurrent thought throughout the day.

I kept waiting for the constant braxton hicks contractions to intensify, remembering that with Benjamin, the real-deal labor contractions started at 15 minutes apart the day before he was born.  I was of the frame of mind that once these contractions started, I’d still have a good 24 hours of labor in front of me.

While making dinner, I had a few braxton hicks that were worth noticing, but nothing I had to sit, relax, or breathe through.  They mainly just encouraged me that I was reading my body correctly and labor would be starting soon.

When I was finally off my feet, eating dinner, the contractions got more intense.  I wasn’t timing them, but I figured they were probably about 10-15 minutes apart.  It felt much better to relax and breathe through them at this point.  I was, again, encouraged that labor looked like it was finally here!  But I also had the thought that these contractions may be more intense simply because I was sitting for the first time in a long while and once my body had rested, surely they would ease off.

But they didn’t.  So I officially claim 6:30 as when this labor began.

The contractions weren’t serious enough to warrant a dark room with candle light, gregorian chants, and a lotioned massage.  I wanted to save these Bradley techniques for the hard labor.  So I sat tailor-style on the floor in front of the laptop, timing contractions and twittering while Josh played with the children.

Josh put the kids down for an unheard-of early bedtime at 8:30 (the usual is 10:30!) and we counted our blessings that Benjamin had gotten up two hours earlier than normal that morning and had refused to nap!  After Josh packed the last few things and loaded the car, we decided to try to go to bed to see if the contractions stopped for the night like they had with Benjamin’s labor.

They didn’t.

They were always around a minute in length, but they also didn’t get closer together.  The record of contractions went something like this:  8 minutes, 12 minutes, 10 minutes, 7 minutes, 10 minutes, 7  minutes, 5 minutes, 7 minutes, 10 minutes, 16 minutes…

If I was laying down, they would be further apart and more intense.  If I was up moving, they would be closer together and easier to handle.  And I was under the impression that if my activity changed the pattern of my contractions, it was still early labor.

But, thank the Lord, Josh started thinking about calling the babysitter anyway.  She was already on red-alert, but we didn’t know when to have her come over.  Josh realized that once we called her, we wouldn’t be able to get to the hospital for another hour, since it would take her half an hour to get to our house, and us another half an hour to get to the hospital.  I still held out, not wanting her to be up all night on our couch for nothing if this labor goes as long as Benjamin’s did.  After all, she has her own two little ones at home to care for!

But after a couple more contractions, I saw his logic and we called her.

My mom, having read my earlier twitters, was getting ready to make the 3 hour journey to our house, so Katie would be able to go home as soon as she arrived anyway.

At this point, the contractions, while not getting into a steady rhythm, were definitely intensifying.  I was unable to relax, especially in the side-lying position, which I was unprepared for!  Most of our labor rehearsals had been with me laying down in this position!  Josh tried talking me through them, massaging me through them, but I was unable to relax no matter what he tried.  Katie arrived a half an hour later, and we continued to attempt to find a pattern to the contractions.  Finally, with the contractions still no less than 7 minutes apart at times I found myself begging Josh to take me in.

We left the house at around midnight.

The contractions in the car were finally five minutes apart.  Ironic.  But Josh was a very careful driver, even waiting to cross railroad tracks until I gave him the go-ahead.  But while these contractions were closer together, I found they were easier to handle, simply because I wasn’t laying down.

We arrived at the hospital at 12:30am.  I was anxious about having to go in through the emergency room, expecting a long wait time and a chaotic entrance.  But it was really very nice!  The lights were dim, check-in was fast, they got me a wheelchair and heated blankets because, despite the heat and humidity, I was shaking from cold!

I was wheeled up to the maternity floor where the kind nurse patiently waited through contractions to attach the fetal monitor belts.  She then came at us with a bag of IV fluids and was taken slightly aback when we refused them.  She tried to explain that it was simply routine that she put me on them, but we maintained that we would wait until we needed them, if we ever did.  I think this really helped establish the environment from the beginning.  Josh and I were standing together on the solid ground of informed and pre-made decisions.  We were polite and understanding to the nurse’s point of view, but we held firm to our decision and this really set the tone for the rest of the night as I remained in charge of my own labor.

The nurse then checked my dilation and Josh and I laugh now at how long this process took.  I had already decided, before her announcement, that she must not have been able to find what she was looking for.  And I was right – she claimed I was at 9cm!

They moved me from triage to labor and delivery at this point.

I sat tailor-style on the hospital bed while the rest of my vitals were taken.  The doctor came in and introduced himself (My own ob-gyn has seen me through two pregnancies and has delivered none of my babies!).  He wanted me to lay down so he could get an idea of how big the baby was.  I did not want to be caught laying down during a contraction, having already determined this to be the most uncomfortable position in this particular labor, so I kept telling him to wait until he finally gave up.  Actually I believe my verbal response to his request was something like, “It doesn’t matter how big it is, I promise, I can push it out.”

Now, I have to say, at this point I was very much consumed by what was going on inside of me and I had lost track of how I appeared on the outside.  And on the inside, everything was very busy and loud.  So it caught me off guard, when, during a contraction, I overheard a nurse in the corner exclaim quietly to herself, “Now THAT’S how you have a baby!”  I then realized how quiet the whole room was, including myself.   Her comment was very encouraging to hear; I remember thinking, “I must be doing something right!”

I was very impressed with Josh throughout the whole labor, when I was aware of his presence.  He was constantly near me, reading my thoughts, answering questions directed at me in the exact way I would have if I would have been able to talk.  He was very understanding through the “Don’t TOUCH me!”/”Where ARE you?” stage which I’m sure was confusing!  I was able to communicate my contractions to him with the simple word, “More” and he immediately did everything in his power to make things easier for me.

When the testing was finally over and my restriction to the bed was lifted, I knew I needed to get in a different position.  I could feel the pressure of the baby descending; each contraction hurt my hips more and more.  I started a low moaning to help deal with the pain.  It really impressed me how much this simple action – it is the distraction, or the vibration of the low noise? – helped!  At one point the moaning turned into a mantra: “Baby come down, baby come down.”  When Josh asked later why I kept saying that, I explained that the pain was easier to manage if I understood its purpose.  So I kept reminding myself that this pain in my hips meant the baby was coming down and that I wanted the baby to come down.

Anyway, when the bed restriction was over, I told Josh I wanted the ball.  And he knew exactly what I meant.  He brought over the yoga mat, lay it out on the floor, placed the birthing ball at the top, and helped me down.  I started  in a hands-and-knees position while resting my arms and head on the ball.  I rocked my hips through the contractions.  Then I felt more of a need to arch my back rather than let it sag, and I pushed the ball away and put my fists on the mat.

I could feel the baby move lower and lower and waited for the “undeniable urge to push”.  But it never came, at least not in the way I was expecting it.  While breathing through the contractions I felt my breath catch and I would find myself pushing.  But it wasn’t the kind of pushing I was used to.  I was used to the kind where a nurse stood at my side and told me when and how long to push.  I’ll take this kind of pushing over that kind any day.  It was much more relaxed, and I could feel the baby progress with even the slightest push.  It had been my goal from the beginning to calm down my pushing, as the all-out, red-faced, forceful pushing was likely the main reason for the tearing I’d experienced before.

I told the nurses that the baby was coming and that I was pushing.  I make this sound like I was having a calm conversation, but really it was more like, “Baby coming!  Doctor, please!”

They tried to coax me up on the table, but I was very comfortable right where I was and replied, “No, hand-and-knees, please.”  They said we could try that on the table, but Josh took over at that point and told them I’d rather stay where I was.  They said they didn’t think the doctor would deliver on the floor and Josh replied, “He’s pretty short, I think he can handle it.”

Then the doctor came in, reviewed the situation, and asked if we were sure we wanted to be on the floor.  We were.  He replied, “Well, it’ll be a first for me, but okay!”

By this time, I was finding myself pushing the baby lower with each contraction.  It was really alarming to me to find myself in this position already – I had just gotten to the hospital, it seemed!  I thought I had another day of labor ahead of me!

Then, with a pop, my water broke and I was distracted by the thought that, “Shoot, I really should have put something down over this yoga mat…”

I also remember thinking how strange it was that I was feeling everything so clearly.  I had expected to feel confused, scared, unsure, and to have all the events rush by in a blur, outside my control.  But everything happened at just that right pace and I felt very confident in what I was doing.  I could feel the baby’s descent so distinctly.  I knew everything that was going on inside me.  I understood all the feelings of discomfort and pain.  I never once was tempted to ask for pain medication – it never crossed my mind and no one brought it up.

Within minutes the baby was crowning and I was reminding myself to only push when I felt the urge.  It was the hardest thing to stop pushing when the contraction stopped.  The urge had left, but I knew I was so close!  But I also knew it was best for my body to stretch slowly rather  than to shoot the baby across the room.

I resumed pushing with the next contraction and the head was out.  And I had to wait, again, for another contraction for the rest of the baby.  This was the only time in labor I wished the contractions were closer together!  In fact, my patience didn’t last as long as it should have and I pushed the body out in one push instead of two, resulting in a small tear.  But it was my smallest tear yet; only 6 or 7 stitches, claims the doctor.  It was at least three times worse with Benjamin.

It was at this point that the cord, being uncharacteristically short, broke on its own and the doctors and nurses had to act quickly to clamp it shut before the baby bled out through it too much.  We had originally planned to delay the cord clamping to give the baby all the benefits of the extra blood, but I guess all that research was for nothing!   Maybe next time…

But all that went unknown to me, as I was unable to see any of it, being in the hands-and-knees position.

All I knew was that Josh’s excited voice had proclaimed we had another son, and I had to readjust the way I saw our little family!

I was helped up to the bed, where I enjoyed some blessed skin-to-skin time with my beautiful new baby.  I admired his dark hair, and wondered if it was darker than the other two had been at birth.  I tried to see his eyes, but his face was too puffy.  I didn’t even wonder how big he was.  He seemed so tiny!  Eventually they had to take him to weigh him, and even though he was just across he room with his daddy standing over him, I was so impatient to have him back!

After what seemed like hours, he was back in my arms and has rarely left since.

See the post below for pictures!!