So there I was at my 41 week check up, things starting to move toward labor but definitely not in labor yet. They stripped my membranes at my request, to try and get something going. We chatted about the situation, and I left the appointment somewhat disheartened.
On the way home, Tanya, the on-call midwife, called to offer to come over to the house after the clinic hours and break my waters. This would hopefully start labor - and she was only offering because of my history, and this being my second pregnancy, and she would only do it if the baby was in the right position and my cervix was performing correctly and so on and so on - so many caveats. But I was sure this was the right thing to do, as soon as she offered it. So the plan was in place that she would come over around 8pm to check me out and discuss the options further.
She and Allison, the midwifery student, arrived at the house around 8pm. We discussed our options and the risks and all mitigating factors (I had a sinus infection, G had a fever plus gastro issues, we were a mess) but I also knew that having the midwives there, with me the whole time, start to finish, was certainly a huge weight off my shoulders. The anxiety that had been stressing me out (am I going to have this baby in the grocery store? in aisle 2, next to the pickles? or am I going to have the baby on the side of the freeway, on the way home from yoga?) was gone. They would be there, monitoring, assisting, supporting. I knew it was the right thing to do.
Since I tested positive for GBS, I had to have antibiotics on-board. After Tanya verified that everything was in place (baby good, cervix good, etc) she administered the antibiotics and we waited an hour for them to cross the placenta and hit the baby's bloodstream. Then the fun part, breaking the waters. With a gush, it was done. Then the real waiting game began.
This was about midnight - and within the hour, minor contractions started. They built up traction over the next few hours - by 4am they seemed steady. Every time Allison checked the baby, its heartbeat was steady steady steady. M was cracking jokes for hours, telling stories (well, we were both telling stories, but they shall not be repeated here), laughing and laughing and laughing (I had tears streaming down my cheeks on multiple occasions) and snacking and making tea. It felt like a slumber party. Around 5am, the midwives and M all fell asleep in the living room - I couldn't blame them, it was boring and I was still gaining momentum... but seeing all those slumbering faces made me realize how tired I was. I laid down on the couch (I had started to fall asleep between contractions) and tried to relax. I did such a good job relaxing that I woke up about an hour later.
I would be told later that both the midwife and the best friend were very nervous that I fell asleep on the couch - they thought the worst had happened, my labor had stopped. Because, honestly, who could sleep through that? Well, I once slept on a speaker at a Spearhead concert - I can pretty much sleep through anything.
So it's about 6:30am, and the real contractions have started. This is what I look like in labor.
Ouch. First big one, 7:30am.
This next one took my breath away. Notice everyone drinking coffee. I wanted some desperately, and said so. Tanya said I could have some... my answer was, "I know it would taste really good, but then I would vomit everywhere." She said that was a great sign. Ha! These women enjoy torture, I swear it! Then I told Tanya the table was too low.
So we moved to the kitchen counter. It was so nice and cool in between contractions.
At this point everyone but me knew that it was moving very quickly. G woke up (thankfully his fever had broken) and came out to the kitchen. He suggested we move to the living room, as I had already started to get into my birthing position - on hands and knees. On the hardwood floor. In the kitchen. (Ugh!)
It was a fantastic idea. I said we had to make it from the kitchen to the living room before the next contraction hit... and we made it.
Four pushes later, we met our son.
He was absolutely the most beautiful baby I have ever met.
These are my amazing midwives, Tanya and Allison.
Later that day, Fi came home (she had spent the night with D & G, two of her favorite people on the planet) and met her baby brother for the first time:
And here's M with the sweet boy:
This experience was absolutely amazing. The love and support from the midwives and M was immeasurable. It almost makes me want to do it again. Almost. Then I think about three college tuitions....
First afterthought - my mantra the whole time during my labor? "Ow." As in, "Ow.Ow.Ow.Ow.Ow.OW.OW.OW." Pretty funny.
Second afterthought - when it came to pushing, and I got my first big push in, I felt really accomplished, Allison said, "That was great! I could see half a centimeter of the baby's head!" and I thought, 'Oh, hell no, that was at least half the head out! If she is just barely seeing the head, I am in serious trouble, cuz that hurt.' Pause. Breathe. Then I thought, 'Okay, I know I can do anything for 60 seconds. Anything. Including those damn Bikram poses. So I will do ten pushes, balls out, with everything I have. And if the baby isn't out by then, we have a much larger problem on our hands.' <
And then the next contraction came and I pushed like crazy and it hurt like hell and the midwives were cheering me on, telling me how great I was doing and how much progress had been made. Head was almost crowning. Third push and head was crowning. Fourth push and dude had his hand up next to his head so Allison asked me to slow down and do little pushes... which made absolutely no sense, how can you tell a freight train to slow down? How could I make little pushes? And then, magically, amazingly, awe-inspiringly, I did it. I made one massively huge giant contraction into a series of little contractions, pulsing and slowly pushing the baby out. Totally fantastic. And Allison was able to perform magic on her end, guiding the baby with a twist here and a turn there, and he came with a solid cry before he was even all the way out. And not a scrape or a tear for mama. A joyous day indeed.
