I wrestled in my mind with whether or not I wanted to publicly share our birth story. I wrestled in my soul. Birth is a very intimate, life changing transition. Any parent can attest to that, I think. It sticks with you.
We had our son about 2 months ago. In some ways it feels like it's been years. But weren't we just there? Holding hands, praying, celebrating, mourning. I play those moments over and over in my head. I try to relive every second, even the parts I thought I could never go back to.
Our birth story didn't end up how we wanted (whose does?). For all our planning, preparing, practicing, and ultimately pleading with God, we learned how little control we had after all. I guess we needed a lesson in letting go.
I was about 12 months pregnant...ok fine, 41 weeks and 5 days pregnant and basically a hermit at that point from all the texts, messages, calls, and visits by concerned family and friends. Physically I was feeling fine. I had a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions and prodromal labor for the last week, which can be exhausting, but the baby was doing great and everyone was healthy. Mentally, though, I was ready to be done. Anyone who goes over their due date can relate, am I right?
The days were as long as the stretch marks on my hips. Every night as the contractions picked up I would start the timer. I knew I shouldn't have. Everyone always tells you, YOU'LL KNOW. I timed them anyway. 9 minutes apart...7 minutes apart...5 minutes apart....7 minutes apart. For hours on end until eventually they would die off, along with my hope to ever have this baby.
In the early hours of November 24th, 2015 I was waddling back from one of my many trips to the bathroom and crawled back into bed. At this point Brad was sleeping in the guest bedroom since I was up so often in the night. As soon as I laid down, I felt the familiar tightening in my stomach. This one was too intense to get through lying down so I got up and squatted on the side of the bed like I had many times before.
GUSH
Are.you.kidding.me!? My water broke!? I couldn't believe it, it wasn't supposed to start like this. I knew how rare it was to have spontaneous rupture of membranes, I also knew the bag of waters can act as a cushion for the baby's head during labor and since we were planning a natural home birth, I was terrified the contractions would start up fast and furious.
I'm standing on our brand new carpet with warm fluid running down my legs, and if I remember correctly, cupping my hand between my legs as if I'm going to stop this tsunami. I'm cupping with one hand, calling Brad on my cell phone with the other.
"Brad, my water just broke."
"Oh man," He says.
It's go time.
After cleaning up the initial mess the best we could, I call my mom and my midwife as Brad starts blowing up the birth tub. We had organized and prepared all our supplies over the past couple weeks. When you're having a home birth there's a lot of things you need to provide on your own. We had a blow up birth tub, absorbent pads, shower curtains to protect the bed and carpet (too late), and all sorts of tools to help me through labor. I had my little gender-neutral onesie picked out, washed and ready to snuggle our newborn in. It was finally here! I had visualized the birth of our first born, watched countless home birth YouTube videos and cried every time during "that moment". The moment the baby is born and placed on their mother's chest. Our "moment" was going to be in the comfort of our own home, with a midwife we loved and trusted, and surrounded by our family as we discovered if we had a son or daughter at last.
As a doula and a nurse who has attended all kinds of births, I knew first time labors could be a marathon. I was mentally "in the zone", and ready for the long haul as my contractions started to pick up. My mom, sisters, and Brad's mom and sister filed in within the next few hours. My water broke around 5 am, and by lunchtime the peaks of the contractions were starting to take my breath away even though they were about 7 minutes apart. I made myself eat vegetable beef soup even though I was starting to lose my appetite. It was the last time I would eat for almost 48 hours.
By 1:15 pm the contractions took most of my concentration and we decided to have our midwife, Pam, come into town. She lived an hour away so I didn't want to call her too early. I didn't want to have first-time mom syndrome and think I was going through transition when I was only 2 cm. After 9.5 hours of labor, I figured I had made some cervical change and I was ready to be checked. Pam arrived at 2:20 pm and I got to lie on my own bed as Pam listened to the baby's heartbeat and checked me. Fetal heart rate was 142 and going strong, I was 3 cm and thinning out. I was embarrassed that I had called her at only 3 cm. She assured me that effacement (thinning of the cervix) usually happens before dilation in first time moms, and takes the longest. I wasn't too disappointed at this point, I was determined to stick it out, and Brad and I had found a rhythm to cope with the contractions. We sent Pam away and went back to work.
The hours ticked by with each contraction. I remember looking at the clock at the beginning of each hour. 5 pm, ok I can make it to 6. 6 pm, ok I just have to make it to 7. The time probably went by slower for my birth team, aka my family, than it did for me. I pictured myself much more graceful in labor than I actually was. Basically I was just trying to get through one contraction at a time. I had showered right after my water broke, but by now my hair was a mess, and I was wearing some hideous combination of a nightgown and tennis shoes. In the early hours, I was able to relax through the peaks on my hands and knees, and I used the birth ball a lot. My sister Amy is amazing with her hands, and gave me massages for awhile. Pretty soon it was too hard to stay in one position, so I had to move between the contractions wherever they led me. Brad was in and out of our room and bathroom where I roamed, but pretty soon I was calling out for him and wouldn't let him leave me. The only thing that helped eventually was having him squeeze both sides of my hips as I half-moaned, half-screamed through the pain. Physically it was overwhelming, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. I knew that labor would be harder than I ever even imagined, and I was right. I am still amazed to this day that our bodies can produce such force from within. Mentally I was still focused and committed to my dream home birth.
In my head, my labor has no chronological order. There's just a cloud full of moments to pick and choose from. The only way I'm able to piece together the story at all is because I had assigned my sisters to record all the events on paper, and to take pictures for me. A word of advice to any mothers-to-be reading this: even if you don't think you want pictures, or video, or someone there besides your husband to help you remember the details of your birth, I would highly recommend doing it. You never know how long or difficult your labor might end up, and I am forever grateful to my family for recording moments which would've otherwise been lost in the chaos.
At 4 pm my little sister, Rebekah, had to leave for her 4 hour drive home. It was obvious I wasn't having this baby any time soon, and she had to leave for Thailand early Wednesday morning. I wasn't able to give her a proper goodbye, especially for leaving the country for almost 2 weeks, just a quick hug, goodbye, and I love you before she slipped out the door. I was so sad to see her go. We had spent the past 9 months talking about my pregnancy and the birth, and I had always pictured her there. My teammate in life. I couldn't dwell on it, I had to focus on relaxing. It's a very unnatural thing, natural labor. You try so hard with every fiber of your body and mind just to relax. It's counter intuitive to everything you want to do. The sun was just starting to set. It was a beautiful sunset, and I remember thinking how nice of a sunset it would've been to welcome our baby into. I knew 11/24/15 wasn't meant to be our baby's birthday as the sun slipped below the horizon and we labored on.
By 7:30 pm Pam had returned to check me again. I was hesitant to hear bad news. I had a feeling I hadn't made much progress since the contractions never got closer than about 5-6 min apart according to the app on my phone. I was trying to read the look on her face as she was checking me. It wasn't good, I thought. I was right. Still thinning out and a "stretchy" 3cm, whatever that means. What it felt like is that I had just gone through over 14 hours of labor for nothing. Still we pressed on, Brad and I. I knew it wouldn't last forever, and it would be worth it in the end. Brad was my rock, my coach, my inspiration. He whispered life and truth into my body as we both physically, mentally, and emotionally worked to bring our baby into this world. I had worried about how our relationship would stand the trial of natural birth. You always hear stories of how labor makes women do horrible things. I prayed I wouldn't be one of them. Brad gracefully rose up to be everything I wanted him and needed him to be, and I leaned on him more than I ever had. People might think I was the strong one for going through 24 hours of labor with no pain meds, but it was Brad who never doubted me for a second, and that gave me strength.
At 11:20 pm Pam checked me again after making me get up and walk for a few hours. I didn't want to walk. I wanted to stay on my birth ball in my room and I didn't like Pam pushing me out of my comfort zone. I reluctantly walked around my house like a zombie, eyes closed and all but being dragged by Brad. When she checked me I was a stretchy 4 cm and 100% effaced. Ok, I did it. I was all the way thinned out so now I should just dilate quickly right?
At 11:45 pm the nurse, Kari, started an IV in my bathroom and gave me Ampicillin since my water had been ruptured for about 19 hours and they worry about risk of infection. I remember I bled all over my bathroom floor as she was starting the IV, and I wondered if it would come out of the grout. Baby's heart rate was in the 130's and my vitals were steady. Through all the pain, I was still grateful to be given the opportunity to labor at home, and that me and the baby were healthy so far.
November 24th came and went and we thought for sure 11/25/15 would be my baby's birthday. The contractions were unbearable now. I had a feeling that my body had reached it's maximum capacity. I just knew my uterus could not possibly contract any harder at that point. I was shivering and praying to God to help me. There was no attempting to relax through them at this point. Brad never wavered as I screamed and leaned over the edge of my shower. I stared at the little square tiles on my shower floor as I yelled "No, no, no, no, stop!" at every contraction. I begged God to let me progress, I asked my mom to pray on my behalf. "I've never stopped," she said with tears in her eyes.
At 1:17 am we finally filled the birth tub with warm water from our bathroom sink. Brad had waited last minute to buy the attachment we needed for the hose, and it didn't fit correctly so it flooded under our sink and onto our bathroom floor. I stepped into the birth tub in between contractions and it was heavenly. It was deep enough to where the water covered my contracting belly, unlike our bathtub. When contractions would hit I would get on my hands and knees and my husband and mom pushed on either side of my hips. I somehow dozed off, or hallucinated between each peak.
At 2:15 am I reluctantly climbed out of the birth tub to be checked again. I stood by the side of the bed through a few contractions before I could make myself lie down. It was like trying to build up the nerve to jump off a cliff. The cervical checks themselves didn't hurt, it was having a contraction flat on my back that was excruciating. By this time the contractions were still about 5-7 minutes apart, so Pam had some time to work with. She was still in there when the next contraction hit. I told her I was having one, expecting her to pull out but she didn't. I screamed in agony as she tried to hold my cervix open during a contraction. "No! Stop!" I yelled. It took every ounce of willpower not to kick her. The contraction died down and she sighed as she pulled her glove off.
"Still 4 cm," she said softly.
"No," I moaned as I threw my head back on my pillow and covered my face. How could that be? The baby had to be in the wrong position or something. I knew I could handle the pain as long as I was progressing. I couldn't do this anymore.
My calm, confident, patient midwife sat on the edge of my bed and started the "transferring" discussion. The edge of my bed where we were supposed to meet our baby. The bed I always pictured in my head as I nursed my son or daughter for the first time. There was a wave of peace and calmness that came over me as we made the decision to transfer. I will always be proud of myself for making that choice on the advice of my midwife, between contractions and not at the peak of a contraction in a desperate act. No one can take that away from me.
There was a flurry of activity as my family finished packing my bags and Pam was calling the hospital. I had packed a suitcase just in case, and had a list of things written on a notepad that would need to be added last minute. (I told you I was prepared.) I reluctantly changed into sweats. The elastic band around my loosest sweatpants still bothered me as it constricted around my lower abdomen, right where my contractions were. I was terrified of the drive to the hospital. All the bumps, turns, and not being able to move made me hesitate to get in the car. We decided I would sit shotgun, facing the back and on my knees. My sister, Kasey, was in the back seat, and my mom and Amy were driving separate. Brad flew through downtown and I'm pretty sure he ran more than a few red lights. Hey, what's a birth without the father-to-be speeding through the streets and breaking all kinds of laws? I was just focused on how I would get through a contraction in a moving car. I think I was counting...I got to 200-something when we whipped into the ER entrance. (It's the only entrance open past 9 pm.) I was thankful and amazed I hadn't had a single contraction on the way there. Just as I was stepping out of the car, it hit me. I had to pull my sweats down past my belly to get the elastic off my skin. I felt bad that I was practically exposing myself, but it was 3 in the morning and no one was around.
We made the long walk to the labor and delivery floor. For some reason they put it on the 8th floor and what seems like the opposite end of the ER. I didn't take the stereotypical wheelchair ride, I just wanted to get there. After a skywalk and 2 elevator rides later, we stepped into the birth center and were admitted to room #9313 on Wednesday, November 25th at 3:10 am. Little did we know we wouldn't be leaving until Sunday night, November 29th.
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