The birth story of Noah James
February 18, 2014
Born at 8:08 AM
Weighing 8 lb 12 oz, and 20.5 inches long
Homebirth with a midwife
41 weeks 4 days
I woke up Monday morning (February 17th) with the same thought I had been having every morning for the past two weeks. “I’m still pregnant. Still not in labor. Another day. Ugh.” At this point I was about 1 and a half weeks late, and almost two weeks more pregnant than I had ever been before. I was also Very Uncomfortable (and had been for a month or more), very tired of having contractions (which I had been having for more than a month as well), and just very ready to move on to the next part of this journey. At this point, I had weathered two snowstorms, two full moons, Valentine’s Day, meetings I didn’t think my husband would make it to, birthday parties and homeschool events I thought for sure I would have a newborn at and several other “milestones” that everyone swore would bring about a baby (so-and so’s birthday, barometric pressure changes, etc) with the sense of impending labor, and I was coming to the realization that I would most definitely be pregnant forever. As silly as it sounds, I really just felt like I was in a time-warp. I couldn’t picture the after. Everything was centered around labor and a baby, and I couldn’t get past that. It was a hard place to be stuck in. My midwife was supposed to come check on the baby and me around 10:30, so we got up and started to get moving. After I got out of the shower, my midwife texted me to let me know that she was a little indisposed (which meant someone else was having a baby. Before me. Again.) so her assistant would be coming after a bit. We went ahead and got dressed, had breakfast and got our school day finished before lunch time. Around 11:00 the apprentice got there, and we chatted a bit, and she listened to the baby’s heartbeat, felt the position, and we decided to do a little cervical massaging. At this point, I was around 5-6 centimeters dilated, and she could feel the baby’s head low down. (Although almost two weeks before this, I was 4-5 centimeters dilated--so really, that meant nothing to me). Just to note, my midwife is really hands-off about intervening in the birth process unless needed, but at this point, after several weeks of discomfort, bad sleep, constant contractions, and just general stress, my mental state was not great. So, after discussing the pros and cons of gentle encouragement (such as cervical massage), we decided to try that approach.
After the apprentice left, promising to see me soon (although that is a general phrase, especially when you are 41 weeks and 4 days pregnant), the kids and I sat down to a late lunch, and I noticed that I was having some timeable, uncomfortable contractions. I started to pay attention to them a bit, and noticed their rhythm of every 7-8 minutes. They were also “more” than they had been in several days. Just more to handle, more to manage, more to pay attention to. I cleaned up from lunch, and played with the kids for a bit, while still timing, and noticed after a while that I was having to concentrate through them, and I was getting frustrated with the kids while I was having them. I texted my husband around 2:30 and told him to finish up at work, and try to head home soon. I was also being mindful of the time, and the fact that sometimes traffic can turn his 45 minute commute into an hour and a half, and I really wanted him home before that could happen. I also texted my midwife and apprentice, and birth photographer to let them know (since they all had quite a drive to make as well). At this point, the kids and I went upstairs so I could lay down and they could watch a show. I needed the quiet.
Everyone decided to head on over. Since I had been dilated for so long, having contractions for so long, and was overdue, we all thought it would happen fast. And my biggest fear for this birth was having a baby by myself with two little helpers under the age of eight present. My husband also called my parents and his mom to start heading our way (they had a two hour drive). As soon as everyone arrived, I did not have another single contraction. We took the kids for a brief walk (and it was so cold), we sat and chatted for a while, and we figured out dinner. In the span of 5 hours, I went from having contractions every 7-8 minutes for 3+ hours, to absolutely no contractions. I was so defeated and mad. My husband had already set up the birth pool. Everything was ready. Beyond ready. Everyone was there, waiting. Except me. Or the baby. Apparently, we were not ready. Everyone left but my midwife. We sat and talked while I ate dinner. We talked about the different possibilities of what to do (wait, try something more invasive, etc), but in the end I decided another cervical massage and some natural prostoglandins and oxytocin would be what we would try (which means sex). So before she left, she massaged my cervix one more time, and promised me she would see me soon (there’s that word again). We got the kids to bed, did our thing, and I ate some chocolate chip pound cake. I had the same contractions from earlier in the day for about an hour before I decided I was over it and ready to go to bed. I had had a headache all day, and at this point, it kept me awake until about midnight, so I was feeling frustrated, but finally managed to fall asleep for a bit.
I woke up around 2:00 with intense contractions. I laid for a couple of contractions and timed them; they were the same 7ish minutes apart, but I couldn’t lay still through them. I got up and started pacing around the upstairs of the house. During contractions I would rock my hips in a circle to help with the intensity. I remembered my labor with my first son; when I started pacing, it was definitely a turning point. I figured I should be getting ahold of my birth team pretty quickly. I texted my midwife and woke up my husband. We got the three year old settled in the playroom on the futon (he normally sleeps in our room) with some kind of blessed magic (he does not sleep well independently at all), and I made him call our birth photographer--he was worried about calling her at 3:00 in the morning though--of course it was fine. I was worried that, when everyone got there, my contractions would fizzle out again, but when I couldn’t be still, I just surrendered myself to them and the reality of labor. I decided to get in the pool around 3:30 after a couple of minutes of indecision. I wanted to be in the water--I remembered how great it felt with my son’s labor. But I didn’t want to be trapped. I still wanted to move around. Finally, I gave in and sat in the water, and it was good. I heard people arriving around me, but I wasn’t paying much attention to who was coming in. During contractions, I would sway back and forth in the water and shake my head back and forth at the same time (like I was saying no). I was sitting up on my knees holding onto the side of the pool. My husband was right there with me, holding onto my arms and soothing me with his words and his attention. He reminded me to drink water, and he turned on some music when I asked him, although it was too loud, so I made him turn it off after just a few minutes.
At one point I remember sitting and breathing through contractions in the pool, changing positions, moving around, trying to keep it under control, and then laughing. Because I realized I was singing songs from the move Frozen in my head. I told my husband and he laughed, and someone suggested we try the music again. He figured out how to keep it from being too loud, and I was able to zone out to the music and manage my contractions with deep breathing and “riding out the wave” that I pictured in my head. At another point, someone was giving me a drink of water, and I made a face and said “this is bathroom water!!’--Everyone in the room laughed. I thought my husband had gotten it for me, but he told me later he knew better.
Around 5:30, while I was still in the pool, I told Kelly to call our parents (who were staying at a nearby hotel) because I knew the kids would be waking up soon. Only a couple of minutes later, I heard my son start fussing on the monitor in the other room. Everyone said that I didn’t hear anything, but just a second later, he cried out louder, and I told Kelly to go check on him. All the moms in the room laughed because it was definitely a case of super-mommy hearing. He came into the bedroom crying and fussing. He was not happy to be waking up in a strange room without me. It made me sad to hear him, and to not be able to do much about it. I hugged him and shushed him as well as I can, while dealing with a contraction at the same time. I was mad that I couldn’t stop the contractions long enough to comfort him. My husband took him downstairs to distract him with food or electronics or something, and I got back to the task at hand.
I started to feel a little nauseous and also a little pushy during contractions around 6:00. My midwife encouraged me to reach down and see if I could feel anything. I tried through a couple of different contractions, but I got frustrated because it felt like nothing was changing. I switched positions several times. It just felt like I couldn’t get into a groove or good position. My midwife and her assistant suggested some different things and positions but nothing was feeling “right.” And then I started to feel dizzy. After just a bit longer (all my vitals were fine though), we decided I should get out of the pool and try something different. I remember thinking, I can always get back in, because I really wanted to push in the pool. But I also remember thinking, that never works out, and I should have known better! I laid on the bed on my right side for a while-this was my favorite position throughout most of the last month of pregnancy. Interestingly enough, this was the position I chose to push in with my daughter too. I had to really focus inward and breathe deep through the contractions. I wanted back pressure at this point, and my husband was amazing at doing it. I really wanted him to just push on my back forever, but I remember thinking that would be hard for him, and I would have to give him a break sometimes. After a bit, my midwife made me turn over. Later I joked with her, calling her mean because she made me get in some seriously uncomfortable positions. All in the name of having a baby. So I laid on the opposite side for a few contractions. Then she made me get on my hands and knees, with my chest close to the bed, and my butt in the air. Her assistant helped me rock and sway my hips in this position, and that wasn’t too horrible. Every time she made me change positions she would tell me, “just a few contractions like this.” And I would manage two or three and then flip back over to my right side. I was being a bit stubborn, even though I knew in my head why she was doing it, to help the baby move into the right position. But it hurt, and I was tired and mad. The worst and final position was flat on my back. It was hard for me to breathe (I have never been able to breathe well on my back), and hard for me to stay on top of the contractions like this. I managed exactly three, complaining through the first one, and deep breathing through the next two and then flipped back to my right side, and said” I’m done.” At this point, I laid and breathed and dozed through contractions for a bit. I wanted pressure on my back for some contractions, and I didn’t for others. I did want people to know I was having contractions, so at the beginning of every contraction, I would say in a panicked voice, “Kelly!” I don’t know what I wanted him to do about it, but I just wanted it known. After a bit (time periods are hazy here), my midwives decided to give us a bit of rest time. They told Kelly to lay down with me and they went out of the room to let us rest. I just remember falling asleep between contractions, and being jolted awake by the building of a contraction. I remember comparing it to my daughter’s labor which was very similar in the time of day, and me dozing between contractions, and needing to stay awake to stay on top of them. The one thing that made them bearable was to breathe deep through them, and picture a wave in my head. I knew that if I could ride that particular wave, I would be done with that contraction soon.
It seemed like an hour or more, but looking at my labor notes from my midwives, after about 20 minutes of laying and dozing and riding the contraction waves, I suddenly felt a sharp pop inside my body. In the first second I thought it was the baby kicking really hard, but in the next moment I realized my water broke. I called out “Hey, my water just broke,” and everyone started to move around. My sweet photographer friend had been dozing on the floor in a corner, and she popped up, called for the midwife and came to check the fluid. We were all aware of possible meconium, since baby was overdue, but she told me the fluid was clear, and I felt some relief with that news (although in the middle of things, I don’t think I processed that thought until later). Almost as soon as my water broke (which was around 7:59), I started to feel the intense need to push. Way different than the way I was feeling in the pool earlier. There was no denying or stopping this urge. My body was doing it without me thinking about it. I was still laying on my right side, so I grabbed my husband’s hands (who somehow was in front of me on the floor, instead of behind me on the bed, although I don’t know how he got there), and started to push. It felt like I couldn’t push effectively in this position so I mentioned wanting to move to the pool. Everyone encouraged me to go ahead and move before the next contraction, but I couldn’t get up. There’s just something about a baby IN the birth canal that makes moving really uncomfortable. I was mad I didn’t make it back to the pool for pushing. But I did need to get up off my side/back to feel like I was making some kind of progress while pushing. It was virtually impossible to move, though. My amazing birth team lifted me and pulled me up from laying down flat to squatting on the bed, since I could not do it myself. I started to push in that position, and really felt the difference. I felt the burning feeling that everyone always talks about. I yelled, and screamed a lot (so much that my throat was raw afterwards). I do remember that I stopped myself from cussing. Strong language doesn’t bother me at all, but for some reason, I’ve always wanted to avoid that during my births, but I have to make a conscious effort to avoid it. I was worried about the kids hearing me yell. I knew they had been getting ready to leave with my parents, but I wasn’t sure they had actually gone yet. I asked someone if the kids were still there, and they told me they weren’t. (My mom told me later that she heard me yell, but the kids didn’t, and they left right away after that.)
I made sure this time to LOOK at his head crowning. I wanted to remember seeing and feeling that. Although it felt like an eternity of pushing, and I said several times “Why is this not done yet?” and “How much longer?! Its got to be almost finished. Its taking so long!”, I only pushed for 9 minutes. His head finally fully emerged, and, after breathing for a moment, I put my hands down on the bed in front of me to push out the rest of his body. I remember someone saying “Turn, baby, turn.” They were encouraging him to turn so his shoulders would come out. I kind of expected him to come right out after his head had crowned but it took a bit more work to get his shoulders out. The apprentice caught him (as I can see from my pictures--I couldn’t remember that detail, and also how he got into my arms--I had to ask the photographer), and handed him to me, and I checked right away to see what he was. I said “Hiiiiiii, little boy!!”, and everyone laughed and cheered. He was finally here.
He was quiet for a few moments, and I rubbed his back and talked to him and moved him around to stimulate him. He started to cough and cry and pink up. He was just covered in vernix, which everyone laughed at since he was so late. We weren’t expecting that (the placental exam later showed several calcifications and just general “oldness” though, so he was still pretty late). Within 10 minutes of his birth, he was latched on to my left breast, vigorously nursing. He stayed that way for the next hour (and really, 98% of the next 24 hours).
After a bit (after the placenta was delivered), despite his constant nursing, my midwife noticed I was bleeding more than I probably should be, and that my uterus just wasn’t really contracting the way she wanted it to be. My pulse was a bit elevated, and she needed to take some steps to control the bleeding. The next hour or two was a little nerve-wracking for me. I knew I was losing more blood than I should be, and while it wasn’t (or didn’t seem like) an emergent or panicky situation, I knew it could be serious, and could cause me to have to go to the hospital after a perfectly amazing homebirth. But with careful monitoring and management, they were able to stabilize the blood loss and my vitals, and everything was cautiously ok.
My parents came back and brought the kids back to meet their baby brother. They had only made it to the hotel parking lot before Kelly told them to come back. The kids were SO excited to hear he was a boy. They were utterly fascinated with him. I worried about how my 3 year old would react-he is a momma’s boy, but he was (and still is) so in love with “his baby brother.”
I spent a lot of the end of this pregnancy and labor mad. Just plain mad. Mad that it was taking so long to go into labor, mad that I was so uncomfortable, mad at almost everything anyone would say to try to comfort me, mad at what I viewed as my lack of progress, mad that it was taking so long to have a baby. You can really see that in my photographers’ pictures. I think you can also see the point where I give up the “mad” and get over it. I had a lot of expectations for this pregnancy and birth, and I think its safe to say, the majority of them were proven wrong or unfulfilled. Even so, I am still ecstatic about my experience, and so happy for the way things went.
I am so thankful for all the support of my family and friends, and of my birth team. One of the most important things to me about my previous birth experiences is the sense of connection I have felt with everyone with me. Its one of my favorite things. There is nothing quite so special as being able to talk about your birth with people that were there and can remind you or give you their impressions of what happened, or their special thoughts and memories. It adds a whole other dimension to what I get to remember. I’m also so thankful to have pictures from my birth--it is one of the most amazing things I will ever have, and I am so grateful to have them.
