I had visions of this baby and this birth beginning in the second trimester. I got a strong message from the baby to tap into their energy and trust them and all would be smooth and easy. The baby also gave me permission to find the beauty and pleasure in mothering, and that’s when I started to embrace my daily life with more creativity and joy. Why should motherhood be a total service and self-sacrifice? I could share in the joy of our daily routines and activities, too.
In my vision, the baby’s energy was akin to laying in the spring grass in a park by the water, gazing up through blossoming tree branches as rosy light filtered through. This baby was light. This baby was beauty. This baby was ease. This baby promised to restore balance to our family. Everything felt less heavy.
I later had a bodywork session with April Kline who reflected back to me that I have a deeply held belief that meaningful things need to be hard, and she encouraged me to challenge that belief. She also suggested that my true self is much lighter than I seem. She asked me if I could even imagine a six-hour, straight-forward labor. I busted into laughter, but I took her point and adopted a new mantra that I wrote on my bedroom mirror: “I channel meaningful experiences with ease because my true nature is light.”
When the baby dropped at 37 weeks, I began to feel really optimistic that the baby might even come early. A weight I carry from my last birth experience is the long wait for Sage, so much so that I did not tell anyone my actual due date -- only the month in which I expected the baby. But then I started having cramping and contractions around 38 weeks and started to believe I might have a Thanksgiving baby. Even my midwife felt the baby would come around 39 weeks. But no baby came. And then came my due date, December 7, Sage’s second birthday. That day was emotional, between reflecting back on Sage’s birth and feeling another due date come and go without knowing how much longer I would wait.
The longer I waited, the more difficult it was to shake negative feelings, like anger. I was beginning to doubt my body’s signals, distrust my intuition, and I had the creeping feeling that I was reliving the same birth from two years ago. 41 weeks came and went. I wondered if this baby might be a 43-weeker, considering the fact that Sage was 42+4 and induced. Christmas was nearing. Every day I stared at our Advent calendar, watching time tick away. My midwife, Meghan, suggested sweeping my membranes, a procedure that can help induce labor, but only if your body is ready. I agreed to it. Although I didn’t want to rush a baby into the world for no reason, I also didn’t want to run out of options or feel desperate the way I did with Sage.
The procedure was scheduled for 6pm on Friday, December 18. Adam’s parents drove down that day to watch Sage so Adam could take me to the appointment because I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of discomfort. About an hour before we left for the appointment, I had a brief call with April Kline about scheduling a bodywork session the following day, and I mentioned I was having my membranes stripped. I asked her what to expect, and she said I would probably go into labor. This caught me off-guard. I was so cautious about being hopeful that I hadn’t really considered this procedure might actually work. The fridge was empty. I felt like I might be starting a marathon on an empty stomach.
The procedure was done in the massage room, which has a lovely ambiance, and it wasn’t as painful as I expected. Meghan reported that I was 4cm dilated, and I felt encouraged. Adam and I then sat together and did a nonstress test, which consisted of about 30 minutes of listening to our baby’s heartbeat, something we both enjoyed that helped us feel connected to the baby and each other.
Meghan wished us a nice evening, and we left. Walking to the car was definitely uncomfortable. That was the first time I had an inkling that this might actually happen. When we arrived home, Michael and Margaret had prepared stuffed peppers for dinner. It was 7:30pm, past Sage’s bedtime, so Adam swept a grumpy toddler away from her play-heaven with Grammie. I ate peppers with M & M, feeling regular, but not painful, contractions. I felt inspired to track them, and they were long and close together, so I assumed it was just my body reacting to the membrane sweep and figured sensations would subside, as they usually did.
I had the urge to walk, but did not want to venture out in the dark night alone, so I put on my boots and walked laps in the yard listening to birth meditations and talking to the baby about our life and home. I could see Michael and Margaret preparing food in the kitchen while electric candles glowed in the windows. It was such a peaceful scene from the cold, dark night. Contractions came occasionally, but in no particular pattern. Meanwhile, Adam went to the grocery.
Everything seemed at ease, but Sage had other plans. She woke while Adam was out and would not settle for Margaret, so I went upstairs and spent an hour bouncing a heavy toddler while standing, snuggling her on my overcrowded lap, and talking meditatively about the process of baking: “mix it all together, mix it all together, mix it all together…” She finally fell back to sleep at 11:30pm. Perhaps she was off-schedule, or maybe she was tapping into the anticipation energy, too.
I had a text from Gillian, my doula, reminding me to eat and rest. I texted her to get some sleep, and she responded that she couldn’t because she was excited. Gillian never got wound up about anything -- I had never known any of my early labor symptoms to excite her in the least, so this was an indication to me that I was likely to go into labor that night.
I was able to fall asleep after a little snack and entered a dream world in which I gave birth to a baby before anyone on my birth team arrived. At 2:30am I got up to go to the bathroom and assumed my dreams were a sign that I had been having contractions, but was able to fall asleep once again. At 4:00am I woke again to go to the bathroom, and this time I felt as though I could not get back in bed, could not lay down. I started pacing the room and quickly realized I could not think clearly. Adam was in bed with Sage, as usual, having gone to comfort her during one of her nightly wakings. I called his phone, knowing it would vibrate his watch. I watched the monitor, and he stirred right away, left Sage’s bed, and came into the room.
“I think I’m in labor. I can’t lay down,” I said. “Let’s call Gillian,” he responded. I felt irritable. “No,” I said. “Let’s at least time the contractions for a while to make sure.” Adam downloaded an app, even though I already had one on my phone, but like I said I couldn’t think. Meanwhile, I started eliminating all light stimulation from our room, feeling hyper sensitive to the glow of every electronic device. Contractions were a minute long and two minutes apart. I only timed a handful of them before I had to go to the bathroom, and Adam called Gillian. She answered on the first ring sounding wide awake. Adam reported that he couldn’t remember everything he had learned from birth class two years ago but that I was acting really serious. She was on her way.
She arrived at 4:30am and came to see me in the bedroom. I momentarily tried to make small talk, but she quickly picked up on my energy and offered to leave me alone. I went to the bathroom, a private place where I could focus inward. Contrary to the bedroom, the bathroom was bright, covered in white, cold tile. I paced back and forth, feeling the urge to do bouncing chair-sits through every contraction. I was on and off the toilet with frequent urges to go. Adam checked on me several times. I did not want company or interruptions, but I did ask him to call Meghan shortly after Gillian arrived. I sensed I needed her and wanted the birth pool, which she had in tow.
I rejected Adam from my space for two reasons: 1) I still felt a bit self-conscious, and 2) he is the person I will melt around. I will be weak with Adam when I would be strong by myself. I felt the need to be alone to best cope with and breathe through the contractions, which had me leaning against my sink and bouncing until my thighs burned. Eventually the breathing turned into oming, turned into groaning, turned into me wanting Adam at my side. I asked him to come into the bathroom, and he stood trepidatiously in the corner. “Please sit,” I asked. He sat but also started nervously tidying the bathroom. “Stop moving,” I demanded. Soon he was seated on the edge of the bathtub, and the contractions had brought me to my knees. I held onto his and squirmed through them, wishing I could lie down or sit; I was getting tired.
Meghan arrived and entered the bathroom to check the baby’s heartbeat. I did not look at her, just sensed her near me. I was able to sit cross-legged and still, as if I were meditating, while she listened to the baby’s heartbeat for several minutes. After she left, contractions intensified and I repeatedly told Adam I was scared and also asked if the birth tub was ready. I later came to learn that Adam feared I was going to have the baby right there in the bathroom, and in retrospect, I don’t know what I was scared of. Just being taken over by the pain, I guess. Losing control and the ability to cope. Those last contractions felt like being twisted from the inside.
Gillian came to the bathroom, and I asked about the tub. She said it wasn’t as full or as warm as she would like, and before she could finish her thought, I rushed by her and down the stairs, stripped down to a sports bra, and hopped into the tub without any assistance. Immediately, I felt relief. “That’s better,” I said several times, reminding myself of Sage, since that’s one of her taglines. The lights were off, it was still dark outside, and the lights on the Christmas tree sparkled. Everything felt more magical.
I only had a few contractions in the tub, when suddenly, mid-contraction, I heard an animal groan escape my throat, and I realized my body was now pushing.
Contractions spaced out a bit, but when they came, that same guttural noise involuntarily escaped my body, as if I were yelling my baby out. Adam brought Sage in to see me twice, and both times I felt myself snap back into mom mode, calmly talking to her in between contractions about having a baby. I don’t know how many contractions I pushed; I would guess around eight. I could feel the baby moving downward, but I remember asking “what’s happening? Is the baby coming?” Someone responded calmly to reach down and feel for the baby. I did, and I could feel the bulging bag of water. The next contraction, I felt a pop as my water broke. And then, I could feel baby approaching “the ring of fire.” Somehow I knew baby was coming out the next contraction, and I said “this is gonna hurt.” Then I gave it my all and pushed baby out in one contraction, wanting to avoid an ongoing burning sensation. Instinctively, my hands were down, guiding baby out. I felt baby’s body slide into my hands, and I pulled baby out of the water and onto my chest. It was 7:59am, four hours after I went into labor.
I don’t think I had that look of awe and elation that I see so often in birth photos. I think I internalized so much information about birth this year that in a way, I was mentally walking myself right through a textbook birth, and when baby came out, my mind went “check.” Birth complete.
Baby came out hysterically crying for quite a long time. I quickly felt a bit overwhelmed, looking around helplessly not knowing how to comfort this little being in a pool of water with a cord attaching baby to a placenta still inside of me. The team helped me out of the water and onto the couch. I held baby wrapped in a blanket and Adam sat next to me crying quietly.
The following hours are a bit of a blur. I started having hard contractions, eventually birthing the placenta. After the placenta was out and I felt a bit more comfortable, I asked Adam if he wanted to see if it was a boy or girl. He was in no rush, but I was ready. I removed the blanket and saw that I had a son, which I had started to assume just by looking into his little face. Something about his nose. I started trying out the name we had chosen for a boy to see if it fit: “Elliot? Elliot.”
Just as things started to relax and Adam decided to make eggs for everyone, I started feeling off and having harder contractions. I felt like I was going to hit the floor. The birth team requested that I go to the bathroom to pee, but I was frozen and also was unable to access the peeing sensation. The team moved me onto a birth stool, and blood came pouring out of me. They asked me to eat a muffin, which tasted like sand in my mouth. My mouth was dry, my vision blurred, and my body felt so cold. I asked to lay down on the couch, and the team covered me in blankets and propped up my feet. My uterus was still boggy; it wasn’t contracting back down. The team gave me Cytotec and then a shot of Pitocin in the thigh. They then used a catheter to empty my bladder. Immediately after that, I came back to life. The next day my midwife would come help me understand why they were running through their “hemorrhage protocol” with me: I had a fast birth, my placenta was slow to come out, and I had a large blood clot. I was never scared though. Perhaps it was because the team was so calm or maybe it was because I had been through something similar and way more panicked with Sage’s birth.
Shortly after coming back to life I requested to take a shower. Everyone looked at me like I was nutty, but I had no problem walking to the bathroom then, and the warm water felt so good. Gillian stayed with me in the bathroom to make sure I didn’t pass out. I couldn’t believe how good I felt right after birth. With Sage, it had been so different. I was in so much pain, couldn’t walk, let alone stand, and I couldn’t even sit for a month. This time there were no tears.
Soon enough I was dressed in warm clothes and back on the couch with Elliot. By noon, everyone from the team had cleared out, and we had the rest of our day to relax at home. My mom played with Sage, and my sister dropped off goodies. It soon felt like a dream that it had even happened at all. That night we ate pizza for dinner and snuggled in two beds for a long night of sleep: Adam with a newly minted big sister and me with a brand new little snuggle bear.