The Birth

I was ready to have my baby. My birth team and plan were all in place. Practice contractions had been going on since 35 weeks, and Andy and I were working on softening my cervix and encouraging labor with everything from bumpy roads to (ahem) bumpin' in the bedroom. My midwives gave me a homeopathic concoction to gently encourage labor, and I even enlisted Murphy’s law by telling my doula to go ahead and stay the night in New York City (2 ½ hours away), figuring if I did go into labor he would have plenty of time to get back- after all the average first time birth lasts 16 hours.

When I woke up that night at 2:30 am I thought it was for the usual hourly pee break (two gallons of water a day left me waddling to the bathroom FREQUENTLY), but as I stood in the hallway I stopped and felt a contraction much stronger than the practice contractions I had become accustomed to. I knew this was the real deal right away, especially when I got to the bathroom and my body immediately began emptying the contents of my intestines. I waited a few minutes until I had another contraction and then woke up Andy. We were both excited and relieved that labor had begun, but I knew there was a long journey ahead and that it was important to rest in the early part of labor.

We called David and the midwives to let them know I was in labor. Surprisingly my contractions were 5 minutes apart, and while they weren’t painful, they did require my full attention at the sensations going on in my body. The midwives told me to rest and call again when the contractions got stronger or closer together. Only about 20 minutes went by before I looked at Andy and said “they’re strong now. Call again.” At this point I was moaning through each contraction, trying to stay relaxed, and imagining each one opening my cervix and hugging my baby down. I tried lying in bed to save energy and had Andy put on my hypnobabies tape, but quickly found it too difficult to lie down. This is when I started wandering around upstairs pausing for each contraction to lean on whatever was nearby. I was searching for a surface at the perfect height for leaning on. It felt as if I needed to lift the top half of my body off of my pelvis to give relief to the strengthening pressure between my hips.

I lost since of time, but the contractions kept coming closer and closer together, giving me little relief in between. It hurt, but I kept reminding myself that they were going to get a lot worse and to stay relaxed. Low moans were very helpful; it felt meditative, like an “om,” and forced my mouth and jaw to stay relaxed during the peak of the pressure (a la Ina May Gaskin). Andy was also giving counter pressure on my hips which soon felt essential to get through the worst of it. I wouldn’t allow myself to think thoughts of pity or give measure to the pain; when my mind wondered there, I focused on pacing myself and finding what comfort or distraction I could to get through.

For a while I sat on a yoga ball and leaned on the bed. I threw up a few times and felt like there was no reprieve from the pressure, so I got in the shower for a few minutes. The hot water on my back was awesome, but I remembered a friend saying that warm water had slowed her labor down, and I just wanted to get my baby out. I reluctantly got out of the shower and moved to sitting backwards on a chair and listening to Iron and Wine’s Our Endless Numbered Days. This album was the perfect serenade for the cycle of moans and rest.

For most of the labor it was just Andy and me upstairs. My mom stopped in a few times to empty the puke bucket, but mostly left us alone. I was in an altered state of reality, hyper-sensitive to other people’s speed of movement and voices. Mostly, I went inward and didn’t talk much. There were a few times when I wondered when David and the midwives would arrive. I thought “I hope they get here to help me through the really bad part.”  When Andy told me the midwives’ apprentice, Julia was on her way here, I decided to stand up again for contractions, hoping I could encourage my cervix to open and praying that when she arrived I would be at 6 centimeters and could get into the birth pool (they want you in active labor before you get the relief of warm water). I was vaguely aware of Andy giving Julia directions on the phone and remember being bummed she was lost and wanting her to get there and tell me I could get in the pool. (Days after the birth it occurred to me that it was miraculous that she was able to get cell service out here.)

When Julia finally arrived I crawled onto my back on the bed. It didn’t quite register at first when she told me there was only a small lip of cervix left. I thought I had hours to go, and transition, the part I feared most, ahead of me. It turned out that I had already gone through transition and I was just about ready to push! I was absolutely elated. I asked her if I could get into the birth tub now and she said, “I’m not sure there is going to be time for that.” She went downstairs. I was blissfully unaware that downstairs everyone was preparing for the birth and calling the midwives to hurry over. All of a sudden during the next contraction my body heaved and pushed, all on its own. It wasn’t the “sensation to push” like I expected, my body was just pushing, uncontrollably. I yelled out, “I need help. I’m pushing!”

Everyone was back up in the room and soon kicked into action. The lights went on, there was some rushing around to get the room warmed up and some debate about the birth tub- all of this was throwing off my zen labor groove I had going and making it harder to focus through the contractions. At one point during a contraction, I yelled out “there’s too much going on in here!” as an attempt to quiet things down again. It didn’t even cross my mind that the midwives weren’t there yet- I felt totally safe and was ready to push out my baby. I leaned on my knees and the birth ball on my bed. Andy’s tired arms kept a steady pressure on my hips. The contractions at that point were actually easier feeling and had longer, more restful breaks between them than the hours leading up to this.

My body kept pushing and I felt my baby low in my body. I didn’t want to tear, so when I felt the head crowning I cried, “it burns!” In my delirious state this was the only way I knew how to communicate to Julia to do what she could to keep me from tearing. The only instruction she gave me was when she asked me to try and push a little between the next contractions. I did, and then pushed hard, letting out guttural groans. In the next seconds, felt him slip out. Another push and my baby had arrived in the world.

Pody caught Oliver's first moment in the world on camera.

I collapsed onto the yoga ball with such relief for what felt like a minute (after watching the video it was only a second) and then said “I want to meet him!” and turned around to see my tiny baby in Julia’s hands. He let out a little cry and a few snorts. It was an ecstatic moment. I turned to Andy, who was also crying said “we had a baby!” Julia passed this perfect, delicate new human to me and I drank in every sight of him as I held his tiny warm body against mine. It was 7am. I had labored for 4 ½ hours and pushed for 12 minutes.

It was only after Julia had asked if we had scissors and alcohol to cut the umbilical cord that I realized the midwives weren’t there with all of their medical equipment. While I would have loved them to be there to share that magical moment with us, it felt like everything happened exactly how it was supposed to. Oliver was born healthy and safe, and gifted Julia with her first solo homebirth (I hope a baby decides to do the same for me when I am in my midwifery education). I couldn't have been happier that everything went so well, and I have to say, I was proud of myself. After all that worry in pregnancy, I trusted the process, and peacefully participated as it unfolded into the perfect birth I hoped for.

That morning my mom made everyone breakfast and we had a picnic in our bedroom to celebrate baby Ollie's birthday.