Tags
It’s about time I updated my readers on William’s birth story. I know this is a topic that mothers (most that I know, anyway) love to discuss. I feel so lucky to have had two positive birth experiences.
We decided to birth at a hospital about 40 minutes away with a low-intervention stance rather than attend one of the Redding hospitals. I was excited because it meant that I could go to a midwife (“P”) that had been highly recommended for my prenatal care. The practice has two midwives and one OB and I was happy with all three of them. However, I am grateful that P could deliver William because I really liked her the most. I met with her for one of my last appointments and when we discussed the kind of birth I wanted she was genuinely thrilled that I wanted to have a natural birth, that we were going to have a doula there for help and that Doug is such a strong birth supporter. It made me feel very empowered to have the baby.
As I mentioned, we did also work with a doula (“C”). Even though I had “been there, done that,” I know that every birth is different and I absolutely welcome the extra help to keep me calm and focused. Labor is hard work. Hello, it’s called labor. And while I am a full supporter of natural birth, I know it takes a lot of focus. Working with a doula is a great, great thing, something I would recommend for any mama who wants to have a natural birth.
On Friday night, March 30, Doug and I went to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant to celebrate his birthday, which was March 29. We gorged ourselves on fried ravioli, caesar salad, and deep-dish, garlic alfredo sauce, pepperoni pizza. Rich beyond compare, and we had a lot of fun, too.
My due date was still two weeks away, so while I knew that I could go into labor at really any point (and let’s face it, I had felt like I was in early labor for the last three months because I had been having such strong and regular contractions), I wasn’t really expecting to have the baby that weekend. I was looking forward to watching General Conference the next day and enjoying not having Primary on Sunday. However, I started feeling some strange pressure on the way home from dinner. It was different from anything I had really ever experienced, and it was so distracting that I didn’t think I could drive our babysitter home by myself, so we all piled in the car to take her home.
While we were getting Jane ready for bed, I started having contractions. They were pretty distracting and only about four minutes apart. I called our doula and the midwife on call – I was so excited that P was on call that weekend – and both said we should probably head down to the hospital even though I didn’t think the contractions were super strong. My first labor was only 12 hours long, so it was easy to assume that this would be as short as six hours. We were about forty minutes away, and I also had tested positive for Group B Strep and would need the antibiotics through and IV about four hours before the baby came. If I really was in labor, we could possibly be pushing it to get to the hospital in time.
At this point, Doug gave me a blessing. It said that the labor would go quickly and smoothly and that we would both be healthy and safe. His hands and voice were shaking and afterward he said, “Did I really just say that? That did not come from me.” Priesthood power is a very real thing.
We packed everything up and got in the car and started driving, planning to meet C at the hospital. However, the contractions started to get farther apart and they started to be a lot less intense until I felt like I had felt for the last few weeks – contractions, sure, but easy and irregular ones. So, of course Doug and I started arguing about whether or not I was really in labor. I didn’t think I was anymore, but I felt really silly to have that happen. Finally we called C to see what we should do, and she recommended that we just come down – she was already there – and we could walk around the hospital and see what happened. We dropped Jane off with our friends and then made a couple laps around the outside of the hospital. No change. I decided to not even go inside and get checked. I was so embarrassed to have made all of us go all that way for nothing. C said it wasn’t a big deal and that we could be back in anywhere from three hours to three weeks.
So we picked Jane back up and home we went. We got home about 12:30 AM and Doug and Jane crashed. I took a shower and went to bed at 1. An hour later I woke up with strong contractions again. I took a few in bed, I took a few in the bathroom, and then I realized that this was the real deal. Discharge, vomiting, diarrhea (sorry if that’s too much information), super strong and fast contractions…it was time to go. Again. At least we hadn’t taken anything out of the car. No faltering contractions this time.
We met C at the hospital and Doug stayed out to meet our friends this time. You have to love friends who will come meet you at the hospital at 3 in the morning to get your child, only to get her to sleep on their couch and then have her wander into their bedroom and crawl into bed with them. Love you, Sarah and Trevor! Then came the cervical check – 5 cm – and some time spent on the monitor. I never timed the contractions the second time around, but they were probably about two or three minutes apart by this time. Finally I was “admitted” and moved to a delivery room where I took my customary place on a birth ball and just hung out there, holding C’s hand’s while Doug gave me some counter-pressure on my low back.
That was how I spent about half my labor with Jane, so it was easy to stay calm and focus through the contractions. Until out of nowhere second stage hit. No transition, no pit of despair, no double-peak contractions – I went from calmly focusing on normal active labor contractions to feeling those terribly strong “urge to push” contractions. And P hadn’t gotten to the hospital yet. I had only been at the hospital for about an hour at that point. And no P meant no pushing. At that point, I would have easily said the hardest thing I had ever physically faced in my life was pushing through five contractions to get Jane out. And I do know that five contractions – a half hour – really isn’t that long. However, not pushing through about five contractions definitely beat that. I was breathing so hard I thought I was going to hyperventilate at times.
Finally P arrived and our nurse laughingly said that the birth ball I was sitting on was the only thing keeping the baby in. She was basically right. Everything was set up quickly and peacefully – there was only me, Doug, C, our nurse, and P. I maneuvered to the bed and set my feet on P’s knees. Doug got behind me to help hold me up. P checked me and said very calmly, “Oh, he’s right there.” I got the okay to push and I gave it everything I had. Doug and C told me to listen to P but I couldn’t hear her. She was telling me to slow down so I would tear, but it was too late because William was already out. Yes, people, one push. Yahoo!
I was so grateful to be done – he was there, he was there. He came out and was laid on my chest. There was no hurry to cut the cord. There was no hurry to wipe him off or weigh him. After a minute, either P or our nurse said, “Oh, he has a cleft lip.” I hadn’t even looked at his face, I was too busy just holding him and basking in the relief of being done with labor. His palate was fine, thankfully. It was a surprise, but I was never jarred or shocked by it. He was beautiful to me, and we had had a beautiful birth experience together.
(That wasn’t the only unusual thing – he also had his cord wrapped around his neck twice and he had a true knot in his cord as well. Somehow he tied a knot in his umbilical cord. I said he was already a boy scout.)
