On Saturday the 7th I woke up around 3:00 AM with some contractions unlike any other I had experienced. They started with the same abdominal tightening but progressed into a lower abdominal cramp-like feeling along with a lower back ache. If this was "it" I wanted to be prepared so I rested as best I could, had Art run some errands during the day, and made sure everything was in order. In the morning the contractions were getting as close together as 5 minutes apart, but by afternoon they were every 10 minutes or so and slightly less intense. I was thankfully able to eat and act pretty much normal so I attempted sleep, or at least rest, that night.
On Sunday I was woken again at 3:00 AM with contractions serious enough to warrant attention. I'd been having them all night long, but managed to sleep a bit in between. I got up and took a warm bath to see if they would ease up, and when they didn't, I started timing them. They were consistently 4 - 5 minutes apart so I woke up Art, called Rachel (our doula), and paged the midwives through their answering service.
Janet called back shortly after the page and I described the situation. She said to stay home for as long as possible since I wanted a natural birth and to update her when we thought we were ready to go to the hospital. I asked just exaclty what I should be looking for from myself as to when we should leave, and her suggestion was when I couldn't laugh or joke or be myself in between contractions.
Art got in the shower, took out the garbage, straightened up, and got all the bags and the carseat ready to go by the stairs. He called all of his bosses and co-workers and left voice messages that he wouldn't be in the following day; we're having a baby!
Rachel arrived around 5:30 AM with cantaloupe in hand and I stood around rocking my hips during contractions. She suggested I take another bath to try and rest up before we worked on any movements to get the labor progressing; I hadn't slept well since Friday night, so I needed all the energy I could get. Rachel was wonderful to have around--prepared food, drinks, and even cleaned our dirty dishes in the sink.
I was handling the contractions alright in the beginning, mostly breathing through them, sometimes vocalizing quietly, and Rachel continuously would remind me to un-furrow my brow, relax my jaw, and deepen the sounds I was making. In between contractions we sat around as if nothing were out of the ordinary--watched television, joked around. My appetite was shot, but I nibbled on some peanut butter on toast, cereal, fruit, and cheese and crackers throughout the morning.
By 10:00 I was starting to get more uncomfortable. No position made the contractions better--not the bath, not the exercise ball, not standing, not sitting, not leaning, not all fours. Still I was able to be myself in between them, but we paged Janet again to say we were thinking we might want to come in soon. She told us to keep waiting it out at home for as long as possible, but regardless she would be arriving at the hospital around noon.
I took a shower sometime after that to see if the hot water on my back would relieve any of the intense discomfort, and it did help some. My vocalizations had become louder during the shower though and there was no taking them back; I sound like a ghost going, "oooOOOooo" with each breath. Rachel still didn't think I was very far into active labor, and since my self-checks of my cervix were inconclusive I had no idea where I was in the game either. I tried seeing how dilated I was twice that morning, once in the bath and later in the shower, but each time I could only feel one edge of my cervix, the bulging bag of waters, and her head behind that. I couldn't wrap my fingers around the entire cervix to judge how open it was.
A bit after the shower all I could think about was getting into a giant bathtub of warm water to help with how uncomfortable I was getting. Just before noon we paged Janet again to say we were on our way and loaded up into the car. The car ride over wasn't the worst thing in the world, but I noticed every little bump. Art dropped me and Rachel off at the front door while he found parking and I managed a slow walk in and asked the front desk in some broken sentences where to go for labor. I was offered a wheel chair ride up to the second floor but declined--sitting sounded horrible. While we waited for Art to come in I joked about me needing one of the plus-sized wheel chairs and still managed to feel like myself.
It took a while to walk down the hall and to get into the elevator since I had to stop with each contraction, but we made it upstairs, managed to go into the mother/baby doors incorrectly, got redirected to labor/delivery and as soon as we were in the room I asked if they could fill up that tub. Unfortunately I had to be checked first to see my progress, so I changed into a gown and waited for Janet while Art ran downstairs for the bags we'd left in the car.
The wonderful nurse said she had read my birth plan and everything sounded great. They let me sit on the edge of the bed instead of laying back and put the fetal and contraction monitors on me for a bit and her heart rate stayed awesome during contractions, which was relieving to hear. Art got back, Janet arrived, and as it turns out I was already 8 cm dilated at 90% effaced! The first words out of my mouth? "Holy sh*t,"--same as when the digital pregnancy test read "positive." Everyone was very surprised at how I was acting at such a stage in the labor game. The bag of waters was still intact and she was still at -1 station as she had been at my weekly visit on Friday, but I didn't care: FILL UP THE TUB.
I took off my gown and put on just a bra and got in while it filled. The temperature was a little warm so they got a pan of cold water with a washcloth for me to put on my neck and face. I spent a little while just enjoying the relief until the contractions became incredibly more intense and frequent...Transition! My vocalizations became even more hilarious as the "oooOOOooo," had a quiver from me shaking from the pain. I kept thinking how I sounded like a stupid ghost. Art later confided that he was thinking how spoooOOOoooky I sounded too. I also kept thinking that if I had waited until I couldn't be myself any more to show up at the hospital it would have been THEN and heck if I would have wanted to be in any place but the tub at that point in time.
Happy in the tub
Serious in the tub
I labored in there until just before 3:00 PM and was told I should get out and get checked again. The trip out of the tub was much more difficult than the trip in with another contraction hitting as I stood. Above the tub there was a metal bar with a bed sheet hanging from it and I hung there moaning, "oooOOOooo," until it was over and I waddled over to the bed. My mom came in at some point around then so she could be there for the actual delivery. Once on the bed Janet told me I was officially complete but her head was still high and offered to break my bag so she would come down and I could start pushing. I was ready for her to be OUT and for the pain to stop so I agreed, she popped it, and started instructing me how to push.
My body was so exhausted at that point that the fact that I had wanted limited directed pushing went straight out the window. I had wanted to use the squat bar they had at the end of the bed too, but I was too weak physically and too scared of the pain of moving to get up. So I stayed propped up sitting and Janet would push down on my perineum and tell me to push toward her fingers. Pushing was NOT relieving, as I had read so many times. It actually really hurt worse and that scared the goodness out of me which had me pushing less than I knew I could.
I was so incredibly ready for it to be over though, and I was stuck in a cycle of "push and it hurts" and "don't push and it still hurts." I was offered a mirror and I don't think I could even say "no," I just shook my head. I was told I could touch her head and I did the same. All I could do was keep my eyes closed, listen to the encouragement from everyone in the room, and give half-hearted pushes.
Just as her hair started showing the gloomy rainy day parted and in between the clouds the sun shone through the window and apparently straight onto her. I could feel the emotions of everyone in the room at that moment. Janet kept telling me to push her fingers away, tuck down, open my legs (since I kept trying to close them) and give about three hard pushes during each contraction. At some point she threatened an episiotomy, and even though I knew she wouldn't, it got me going harder.
Right at the end I was squealing at the end of every push and I felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. The pain was intense, but I never noticed an exact "ring of fire," just an all-over burning feeling. Art was holding my head and left leg, the nurse was at my right leg, and my mom and Rachel were on my left. Suddenly everyone was telling me to stop pushing, I said, "I can't!" Rachel told me to "pant through it," and seemingly out of nowhere there was a baby on my chest!
She was beautiful! She cried for a few seconds and then entered this amazing level of alertness and just stared at me and looked around the room. Art absolutely lost all composure and sobbed uncontrollably. There are no words to describe the wonderful emotion of meeting your daughter for the first time and I know I wouldn't be able to accurately describe them. It was the absolutely most perfect moment in time to ever exist.
Soon it was time for the placenta to come out. Now that? I thought that was relieving. It was like birthing a bag of jelly and it was really neat to look at the organ I grew--that nurtured this child for all those months--that I no longer needed. (Placenta picture)
I looked up at Art and said, "who is she?" and we nodded in agreement: Liliana Marie.
Janet told me I tore a reasonable amount and that she had to start suturing. They took Liliana over to get measured and weighed and washed. Getting stitched up got to be almost as bad having contractions again, even with the local anesthetic. I was offered some Nubain, but seeing as I had no IV, sure as heck didn't want an intramuscular injection, and had already made it that far with nothing, I declined. I sang some rounds of "ow, ow, ow, ow, OW," and was probably the worst patient ever with how much I squirmed, but I had lost track of time and it turns out I spent about an hour and a half getting stitched left, right, and down on 2nd degree tears. During the suturing we learned she was born at 3:50 PM, weighed 7 pounds 12 ounces, and was 21 inches long.
Finally the hellish stitching was over and Liliana was still awesomely alert and placed back on my chest, skin to skin, where she latched on like a champ for her first nursing session. We stayed in the delivery room for a while just enjoying her being wide awake. (Nursing photo)
The only thing I would change about the entire experience is the tearing, but outside of that this was my absolute perfect birth. I cannot thank Art, Rachel, and Janet enough for all of their help and attention throughout it all. She has been a fantastic baby and truly taken over our lives in the best way imaginable.
