Part II

I have been putting off writing this final part of my birth story of Baby Girl for a few reasons. One, I knew that once I sat down I would either encounter severe writers block or the extreme opposite- tunnel vision. Tunnel vision is dangerous when you are managing a 4yo, 2 1/2 yo and a new born. Since Baby Girl has been born my tunnel vision has resulted in unpotted potted plants, countless potty accidents, burned super, a huge scar across P’s (2yo) eye and so many other offensives that I am starting to feel guilty just thinking about it. Another reason I have been avoiding writing this, my reason number 2, is that I want to get it just right. This reason is a catch twenty two. The longer I wait to write it the more time I have to sit down and do it write but also longer I have to write but it the less “fresh” the experience is.

So here I am, the day Baby Girl turns six weeks old and I am just now starting to write up her actual birth.

So where were we… a quick recap in case you don’t feel like reading the 2 previous posts. Part I: I hit rock bottom when my sister and mom left town after weeks of helping out and waiting for our very over due baby to come. Part II: I started what my midwives called “induction heavy hitters” on my birthday, my golden birthday to be precise. That day, July 27th, also marked the eve of 42 weeks of pregnancy. I was exited and truly believed she would come and we would celebrate her birth on my golden birthday. Things progressed very slowly. The clock was ticking because if I did not give birth before the end of the following day – 42 weeks- a MN law states that a midwife can not deliver a baby at home. T was filling up the birthing tub at 9pm of my birthday and that is where this birth story continues…

Contractions began coming consistently 10 minutes apart. Because I had such fast labors with both the boys (5 hours for both of them from the first dose of pitocin to hearing them cry for the first time.) the midwives wanted me to alert them when contraction got to 10 minutes apart. I called the midwife to update her after an hour of consistent contractions. I told her about the contractions and also told her that they were not painful. They felt no stronger than a weak period cramp. I had had poops that were far more painful than those contractions! She told me to try and rest because she thought that things would pick up soon and at any sign of progress I should call.

We got ready for bed, all the while tracking contractions. T was able to get some rest but the nerves and the counting of contractions kept me up. I watched the clock, read my book on my new Nook (Yes I love it and would highly recommend it to anyone!) I even spent some time just sitting in Baby Girl’s nursery.

At 2am I called the midwife. Contractions still were not very painful but they were coming every 6-7 minutes. When I called the midwife I asked if I could get in the tub and she said, “NO! Wait until we get there. Water will speed up the labor and we don’t want you to go before we get there.” The thought of T catching the baby was enough for me to resist the temptation of the warm water.

The midwives (1 certified midwife, 1 nurse midwife and 1 midwife student) arrived 30 minutes later and started unpacking and setting up. It was like watching a well rehearsed scene change (I am theatre geek at heart). They were fast, efficient and multi-tasking all while staying calm, asking how we were both doing and just making general conversation. They spoke in soothing hushed tones- not like a bad spa attendant trying to be all zen like- they were incredible. I instantly relaxed. I was not worried anymore. The midwives were there. Baby was coming. I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital.

Then the waiting began… again.

I spent a lot of time in the birthing tub. I found it very relaxing and it was so much easier to find positions that felt good. T filled a big mixing bowl full of ice and water on the night stand next to the bed. He used this to keep my life line cold. With my boys’ labors the thing that felt best while I was having contractions was a cold wash cloth across my forehead. Again that cold cloth was my life line. I think T liked having something constructive to do. He knew he was helping. He had a task, a purpose.

I labored like that for hours. The midwives didn’t check my progress so I don’t have a time table of how everything progressed throughout those early hours, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. After a few hours in the tub with the contractions not getting any closer than 5 minutes apart and still not painful – I was gauging the pain by my memories of the pain with the pitocin labors of both the boys- I was beginning to feel like the labor would never end OR I was some sort of awesome super hero laboring mom. Maybe T was right all along. I was meant to make babies. I am awesome at it!

I climbed out of the tub around 5am out of boredom and the need to feel like I was doing something. I laid on the bed next to T for an hour resting and going in and out of sleep. I think T got quite a few cat naps in the hours that I was in the tub and when I was laying next to him.

At 5:30am the rest of the caster oil kicked in and my body flushed out everything that was left in it.

During these hours I barely even noticed the midwives were there. Two of them sat in the hallway outside our bedroom. The bedroom door was opened and they occasionally peeked in to check on us. Every so often one would come in to check my vitals and listen the the baby’s heart beat. I felt safe with them there but I never felt like they were overwhelming us nor did I ever feel like they were in the way or infringing on T and me.

I was becoming impatient. Throughout my whole labor everyone – my mom, the midwives, strangers- they all said, “this is your third. It will go so fast.” I was worried that the midwives wouldn’t get to the house on time and here we were with the exact opposite problem. I was stuck and no progress was being made.

At 6am the midwives check me. I laid on my bed with my cotton jersey blend dress that I bought just for labor pull up to my belly. The midwife gloved up and checked me. I was 4cm. FOUR CENTIMETERS! I had made absolutely NO progress in two days of taking induction herbs, two days of labor and I had less than a day to have this baby at home. The midwife must have read my mind or was able to read my attempt at a calm poker face because she immediately started reassuring me that I had made progress. The baby was at 0 station and she could feel her head. The baby was low, very low.

The midwife gave me two options, we could continue on like we have been and let nature take it’s course or she could break my water.

I didn’t hesitate. “Break my water. Please just break my water.” She told me that things would happen fast after my water broke because she was so low. This was the only encouraging news that I had had in a while. Progress. Finally. We were going to have a baby. I would finally get to meet my baby girl. I would get to have my baby at home!

The midwives laughed at my sudden change of energy and said that they would break my water after I ate something to give me some energy. By this point I had been up for 24 hours with only a few cat naps to break up the day. I was tired but wired. Not jittery double shot latte wired but a nice caffeinated tea wired. I was ready to go. Adrenaline was keeping me going. I didn’t want to eat anything I just wanted to have the baby! I didn’t put up a fight though. I figured they new best so I followed them down to the kitchen and sipped on some Gatorade while the midwives made me oatmeal.  I was able to get a few bites down while the midwives cooked up some eggs for themselves (I guess I wasn’t the only one who needed a little pick me up). It was about 7 o’clock when we went back upstairs. I climbed back into bed while the midwives got everything ready.

I have never been happier to see a crotchet needle. She unwrapped the water breaking hook and it was like my legs spread automatically. Never before have I welcomed a pointed hook thing into my vagina so willingly! Anything to get this baby out!

They broke my water. I gushed. They felt and confirmed everything was okay. Contractions started.

I was encouraged to take a walk around the block. There was no way I was going to waddle around the block on display for all the SAHMs, the teachers on summer leave and their curious kids. T and I headed to the backyard. I made it down the deck stairs and made one lap around our backyard before my self-conscious self couldn’t handling laboring anymore while the men re-roofing the neighbors house looked on with curious gazes.

By the time I made it back upstairs to our bedroom contractions were getting painful. The midwife suggested getting in the shower for a bit before getting back in the birthing tub like I was asking to do… seriously that tub of warm water is really the best thing ever when in labor! The shower didn’t last long because all the steam was making me light headed and dizzy. I went straight from the shower to the tub.

This is where things start to get hazy… I know I was on my knees in the tub with my arms resting on the ledge and my head resting on my arms. I held T’s hands and he squeezed my hands as I squeezed his through every contraction. My head was down and my eyes were closed as I focused on what I was feeling. I didn’t want to be distracted. I wanted to feel the process and oh man did I feel the process. I could hear the midwives whispering encouraging words near me and I could hear them moving around, I assume getting things ready. I repeated over and over (each time becoming slightly more whiny) “She is coming. I feel her coming. It hurts so much.” T was a great comfort. Sometimes I just need a sounding board and someone to complain to. He is patient with me when I am like this normally and that morning was no different.  He was the perfect balance of support and empathy.

There was an odd calm in the room. I was beginging to think that I would never get to the pushing stage because the contractions never did get closer together. At one one point I did get sick and T got me a bowl just in time. Vomiting was my worst fear. I hate the feeling of losing control when I vomit but this was different. It wasn’t awful. I threw up and it was done. It was a relief.

Not long after at that things really started picking up. Oddly though, after each contraction I had minutes to regroup and prepare for the next one. Sometime in this process I asked if I could push and when the midwife replied, “if you feel like you need to, yes – push!”

I don’t know how long time-wise that I pushed but I do know that it didn’t take that many contractions. T kept the washcloth on my head cold and I pushed. The midwife told me to reach down and feel her head and I did. I could feel my baby’s head, she was almost here! Just a few pushes after that and my body took over and I no longer had control. There was no feeling of self conciousness and not an ounce of humility. My legs – moving on thier own free will – lifted from my kneeling postion into a wierd wide sumo like step as the rest of my body twisted and moved into a reclining pose against the tub. In that fluid movement her head came out and one push later her shoulders and the rest of her followed.

She was finally here. Two weeks late to the day.

Baby Girl was born at 9:37am.

I became a mother of three on July 28th, 2010.

At that moment our family was complete.

The midwife lifted her into my arms and wrapped a towel around her. They wiped her eyes clean and looked her over while I held her. She was perfect. T had tears in his eyes and all I could do was smile. I think I sad something profound like, “She’s real!” She was beautiful and I loved her.

I love her.

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I think the idea is fantastic. I love the catchy title, “The Dirties on Diapers”.” I love coffee table books and I love photos of little ones in cloth diapers. Most of all I think that adding content about cloth diapering will be a great way to inform people without beating them over the head.

Check out her Kick Starter site to learn more about her plans.

Good luck Jamie! I hope you are able to meet your goal so you can publish the book.

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She will be three weeks on Wednesday and I swear she has grown and changed so much already. She brings me such joy. The difference in the postpartum period with her and with the boys is as different as night and day. I attribute so much of that positive difference to having a drug free, all natural homebirth.

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T was pumped to give me my birthday gift and I am never one to deny someone the joy of giving me a gift, so even before I poured myself a bowl of cereal T was handing me a big green gift bag. I had been eying the bag for about two weeks as it sat on the top shelf of the bookcase. I resisted the urge to peek even though I felt like I was being patient enough waiting for Baby Girl that I deserved a little something something. I was able to push my feelings of birthday entitlement away and was a good birthday girl and let me tell you, it was worth the wait.

I don’t know if I have mentioned this before but I love to read. I chew through books at a ridiculous rate. I went through about a novel and a half a week at the end of my pregnancy. Every day while the boys napped, I read. While the boys played in the backyard, I read. When I couldn’t sleep at night because of my gargantuan belly, I read. I love to read. This was a perfect gift… little did I know how much it would come in handy just a few hours later.

After opening my gift and eating breakfast we all got ready, loaded up the van – for the last time as a family of 4- and headed to the midwife’s office. T dropped me at the office and took the boys to the park. I waited for my appointment with excitement. I was one day short of 42 weeks. The midwives were going to start the “heavy hitters” of natural induction. I knew chances were good that I would have Baby Girl on my Golden Birthday.

I went through the normal drills of peeing in a cup, weighing in (a whopping 223… I remember thinking, well at least 9 pounds of that is baby!) having my blood pressure checked and my belly measured. Finally we got down to business and the two midwives started mapping out “the plan.” I quickly turned from excited with anticipation to nervous. They hit me with a bombshell that I wasn’t prepared for and it took everything in me to not break down and start crying. Legally, midwives in Minnesota can not deliver a baby when the baby has gone past 42 weeks. Reminder, the following day was my 42 week mark. That meant I had my birthday and until midnight the following day to have Baby Girl at home. If I went past 42 weeks I would have to go to the hospital.

The pressure I felt to have the baby while both my Mom and Dad were visiting was nothing compared to this revelation. I had 38 hours. The clock was ticking.

The midwives could see the panic and fear in my eyes as I started explaining my “due date is wrong” theory. Both midwives pulled out their little circle due date calculator things and started crunching numbers. They both came to the same conclusion. Even if we conceived Baby Girl a week later than originally thought, the Biophysical Ultrasound showed that Baby Girl was well cooked and needed to come out – soon.

They started walking me through “the plan” which started with both of them stripping my membranes. Both midwives concluded that I was 4 cm dilated and my cervix was soft. This news relaxed me a bit, just a bit. At least I had made one cm of progress in the past week of trying to induce naturally. The rest of the plan consisted of a schedule of alternating tinctures every 15 minutes after downing a root-beer float laced with caster oil.

I left the birth center trying to be hopeful but still on the verge of tears. Poor T about had a panic attack when he saw my face as I heaved my pregnant body into the van. I quickly explained that I was okay, baby was okay but we were on the clock. T was angry that it had taken 41 weeks and 6 days for them to mention that they couldn’t deliver the baby at home after 42 weeks. If the boys were not in the back seat I am sure there would have been some choice words spoken. I agree it was wrong of them not to give us more of a heads up but there was nothing we could do about it now. The clock was ticking.

We headed to Whole Foods to pick up the caster oil and tinctures. (I don’t feel comfortable listing the tinctures I was told to take because I know that every pregnancy is different. Also, I am far from knowledgeable about tinctures and I don’t want to risk giving out dangerously bad advice. Ask your midwife or doctor if you are interested in inducing with tinctures)

We went out for lunch at Applebees thinking that this would be the last time in a long time we would be able to eat out as a family and it would for sure be the last time we ate out as a family of four. The boys gorged themselves on mac n cheese oblivious to the clock that was ticking away. I was able to get some food in me even though the nerves had begun to tie my stomach in knots. All I could think about was the time constraints that were now put on my natural childbirth plan.

When we got home T helped me set up camp in our bedroom. We set my phone’s alarm to go off every 15 minutes. I sipped on my caster oil/root-beer float while T showed me how to use my Nook. I changed into the tank dress I planned on wearing for labor and flipped on the TV and waited for something to happen.

I waited and waited.

I fielded phone calls from family and told them I was taking caster oil.

I tweeted to pass the time.

I prayed that either time would slow down or labor would speed up.

I checked in with the midwife 4 hours later with the defeated news that nothing much was changing. Contractions were coming more frequently but they were neither consistent or painful.

I spent a surprisingly little amount of time on the toilet even after my 2nd root-beer caster oil floats. I did have a bit of diarrhea but nothing near as bad as I had feared. I took my birthday gift with me, sat on the toilet and read book two of the Twilight series to pass the time. Someday when Baby Girl is older and asking about her birth I plan on lying and telling her I was reading one of the great classics not a novel written for teens about vampires and werewolves!

By 7pm the boys were in bed and still nothing was happening. By 8 pm I had given up hope of sharing a my Golden Birthday with my daughter. I was becoming edgy and frustrated. T and I watched episodes of Dexter as we tried to kill time. Again, I will change my story slightly for Baby Girl. Maybe instead of killing time watching a show about a serial killer, I will tell her we watched an insightful documentary. T did his best to keep me calm because stress wouldn’t help the process at all. Dexter was a great distraction. I watched him murder people while I was in cat/cow yoga poses. I watched him throw bodies in the ocean while I paced back and forth in our basement. I watched Dexter take blood samples while I took tinctures every 15 minutes. All the yoga poses, pacing, tinctures and Dexter didn’t do much besides distract me for a couple hours.

I began to fear that the natural birth that I wanted so badly, that I planned for for months, that I researched, that I defended over and over again to my doubting family wasn’t going to happen.

Just before 9 pm things began to change. My spirits instantly lifted. I became exited and T began to fill the birthing tub.

Things were starting to head in the right direction. Scratch that. Baby Girl was starting to head in the right direction!

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After three trips to the doctor, two heal pokes and one session of sun bathing Baby Girl’s bilirubin is back to normal levels. She is still looking a little yellow, especially in the eyes, but overall she is doing so much better.

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The owner of these toes has stolen my heart. I love you Baby Girl.

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T gave me a pep talk when he dropped me off for the ultrasound to remind me to stand up for myself and our birth plan. Biophysical Ultrasounds take anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour. We knew the boys wouldn’t sit through that so T took them to the park while I looked at swirly black and white images of baby girl. It is too easy to be scared into doing something you don’t want to do. My plan was that whatever the ultrasound read I wouldn’t make any decisions without contacting my midwife and T first.

The ultrasound technician was really nice and very thorough. I went in thinking, “This will be okay. She is fine. She is moving around a lot. She and I have both been healthy the whole pregnancy with normal weight gain, she always had a strong heart beat and my blood pressure was always really good. Everything has to be fine.” I wished that T could have been there to hold my hand but someone had to watch the boys. Everything was going really well. She was measuring right where she should have been. Her heart looked good. My placenta was still doing what it should. I still had enough amniotic fluid. Everything was checking out until the tech started counting practice breaths. Baby needed to take 3 practice breaths and the tech wasn’t seeing that happen. I could see the tension growing in the tech’s face as she ordered me to lay on my side. When that didn’t work I had to chug water. When that didn’t work she brought me a mini candy bar to eat. Then finally after a few very long, anxiety filled minutes and the sugar kicking in Baby took the all important practice breaths. She took all three. She got a perfect score. Thank God the pep talk wasn’t needed.

Baby Girl was fine. More than fine actually, she was fully cooked and ready to come out. When the tech asked me if I wanted to know how big she was measuring I nodded with excitement. Baby was healthy, nothing more could upset me. All news from then on out had to be good. The tech hesitated and then said in a very forced optimistic way, “She is measuring in at 9 pounds.” NINE POUNDS! I left the clinic feeling relieved that baby was okay but with a whole new set of worries…. all I could think about was that number. That number haunted me. Nine. NINE. NINE FREAKING POUNDS!

T and the boys picked me up and we headed for home. It was time to start a whole new game plan. Baby needed to come out before she got any bigger. Because NINE POUNDS is a big baby. NINE POUNDS is a huge baby compared to the boys who were 7 pounds 15 ounces and 7 pounds 1 ounce respectfully. I called our midwife and scheduled an appointment for the following morning. It was time to start what my midwife called “the heavy hitters.”

I made the obligatory call to my mom (her and my sister left on the 24th) to try and ease her nerves which at this point were grating on my nerves. She disagreed with or choice to do a home birth. She wasn’t even that supportive of the whole midwife thing – however she, to her credit, she did try and hide her doubts. Her nerves and constant questioning and lack of trust and respect of our choice to have a home birth pushed me to the edge that day. She was starting to show her true feelings about the process we chose. Doubt and more questions were the last thing I needed then. I was short with her and quite rude. Our normal 1/2 hour- 45 min conversation was cut to a crude 3-5 minutes. I couldn’t take it any more. T was so good through this. He intercepted phone calls and told me not to worry about her and that everything would be fine. I love my husband. He really is wonderful. With out him I would not have been able to get through any of this… granted without him I wouldn’t have been pregnant in the first place. I reminded him of that fact whenever I was overly cranky, feeling uncomfortable or Baby Girl was practicing her karate kicks on my ribs. Like I said, he was (and still is) very patient with me!

I spent the rest of that afternoon resting and laying low just in case Baby decided to come that night. Secretly I was hoping she would wait just one more day because the following day, July 27th, was my birthday. Not just any birthday, my Golden Birthday! I really thought it would be wonderful, great, serendipitous, incredible and perfect if my Baby Girl and I shared a birthday.

She didn’t come that night.

I woke up the following morning to a husband sweetly whispering “Happy Birthday” to me. I got up, showered, shaved (cursing while I shaved for what I prayed was the last time having to do pregnant Olympic like moves to shave my legs.) and dressed all with a smile on my face because I just knew that Baby Girl was coming on my birthday, my golden birthday.

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I have been a mom of three for just over a week now. I know I don’t have the most realistic idea of what it is like to have 3 kids yet because T is still on paternity leave… I know things will get tough – some say impossible – when T goes back to work on Monday, but for now I am just going to relish every moment because three kids is incredible. I love my family of five. Now we just need to schedule an appointment for T to make sure we don’t become a family of 6!

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