The story of my birth as recounted by Mom

The Story of your Birth

We finally made it to 37 weeks gestation after 8 long weeks of bed-rest and a threatening early labor. Every day that we drew nearer to that goal, a morsel of fear left my shoulders as I knew you were just a little bit bigger and stronger, and better equipped to face this big scary world of ours.
At 27 weeks I was ‘diagnosed’ with a prematurely shortened cervix. In all likely-hood, it was probably shorter than average to begin with. Suddenly I was no longer waking at 4:30 am to commute from Whidbey Island to Capitol Hill in Seattle (working in a kindergarten), but was advised to be horizontal as much as possible. At 27 weeks you were just barely at the stage of being able to survive at all outside my womb, even with all the latest and greatest medical technologies. I tried to keep an inner calm for your sake and mine, prayed numerous times a day, and leaned heavily on your daddy, who was willing and ready to do anything we needed to help you arrive safely.
Cynthia, our midwife, was also a pillar of support for us, and I began to see her weekly. Thirty-seven weeks was the age at which we could birth you at home, but I must admit, I hardly ever thought about that. My strategy was a day at a time, and I didn’t want to build up too many expectations for your birth. Thirty-seven weeks seemed ages away.
I’ll never forget my appointment at 29 weeks. My mother was with me (she had come to help for as long as we needed her). After doing a vaginal exam to check on my cervix, Cynthia came over to my side (and there was a wildness in her eyes that she seemed to be trying to keep at bay) and told me I was one centimeter dilated and that we needed to go to the hospital. I thought ‘Oh my God you’re coming now!’ and tears instantly flooded my eyes, I was so afraid for you. I felt an instant sense of the loss of a healthy beginning for your life, and a brief panic in the pit of my stomach…but I quickly found my calm, and began to think practically. I asked Cynthia if we were going to the hospital. “Yes” she said. I asked how I would get to a neonatal intensive care unit in Seattle. “By helicopter” she answered. I laid down and tried to relax as Cynthia called the hospital and made arrangements for my arrival. My mother came and held me, and then off we went, tears still streaming down my face. I remember calling Nick on the cell phone in the car. He was in Seattle at an install, and our connection was less than good. He tried to make sense of what I was saying “Dilating, hospital, helicopter, wait for more news, stay in Seattle….” And I could only imagine how those words affected him…I knew he wished more than anything he was by our side…and was this really happening?
The next few hours thankfully brought a deflation to all the excitement, as my abdomen was monitored for contractions, and a Doppler ultrasound machine was attached to us (you poor thing!). It appeared we wouldn’t need to go anywhere as I wasn’t showing any other signs of being in labor, even though I was anywhere from a fingertip to a centimeter dilated, and 50-80% effaced. The doctor planned to do an indicator test (I forget the name), which would predict whether I was likely to go into labor in the next two weeks…and in the meantime, I would stay in the hospital, being constantly monitored.
My mother sat nervously by until your daddy came in the late afternoon to take over. No offense Grandma, but it was such a relief when Nick walked into that hospital room, I felt instantly calmer and more grounded to look into is caring eyes, and to know we were in this together, no matter what. I sang to you off and on through a voice shaky with worry, whimpering, and fatigue. The evening brought restless sleep, as I had nightmare after nightmare of your premature birth. I calmed myself somewhat by thinking of all the things I could do (singing, talking, touching) if you were indeed fated to live inside a glass dome for your first weeks of life. I mourned a possible loss of breastfeeding you, as I imagined a life of pumping and bottle feeding.
The next day, the test came back negative, and we were allowed to go home. Needless to say, I rested even more intensely than before, and resolved myself to reading on the couch for up to 8 hours a day! I lost myself in Harry Potter novels and trashy Diana Gabaldon novels ( Oh Jamie!) and took it a day at a time.
We made it to 30 weeks, and to 32 weeks, and 34 and hurray 36! (we could have you at Whidbey general) and at last 36 and 6 days. It was December 11th, and we had yet to buy any Christmas gifts, so we decided to make a special trip to Port Townsend (a favorite daytrip of ours) and try to get all our shopping done in one sweep. I quite fondly remember that day, waddling around with my big belly, tiring my legs and feet, and feeling so joyful to be nearly at 37 weeks.
The next day (December 12th) we bought our first Christmas tree (as a family), and trimmed it happily that evening. It was lovely, and I felt warm in the belly and peaceful. That evening as we sat on the couch looking at the lights and snuggled, I remember noticing a contraction (I had been having painless contractions for weeks) that had a slight twinge to it…just enough to think ‘hmm, that was interesting’. I went to bed around 10 and woke up suddenly at 12:25 with what felt like an intense gas pain. I got up to go to the bathroom, but no gas or anything else was forthcoming and the pain had already subsided. Having noticed that the pain occurred at the same time as a contraction, I had a few thoughts of beginning labor, and marked the time.
Sure enough, there were more: 12:50, 12:55, 1:15, 1:25….I arose to go to the bathroom and heard an unexpected ‘plop’. A small clot of blood had passed. ‘Bloody show?’ I wondered. Definitely time to call Cynthia, and give her the heads up that labor might be on its way (in the next day or two I thought). I paged Cynthia and then my water broke, and I knew then that I was truly in labor. On the phone, Cynthia concurred and said I should call her back when the contractions were a minute long and about five minutes apart. I went to the bathroom again, and had a very loose bowel movement (sorry for the details) which I knew was another sign of labor. Nick had by this time come round to the realization of what was going on and got up and began bustling around doing God knows what (getting everything ready) but I was already in a somewhat altered state of consciousness as I began to deal with the increasing intensity of the contractions riding through my body. I remember thinking I should do some dishes and housework, thinking that it would help keep things moving along. As soon as I got to the sink, I realized that I was pretty much incapable of doing anything but dealing with the labor pains. In fact, it was already becoming too difficult for me to keep track of the timing of my pains…it was fairly ambiguous as far as when exactly a contraction began and ended…(in hindsight, I was already getting pretty close to transition time). I remember trying to sense exactly when a contraction would begin, and I looked up and saw Nick with the camera taking a short video clip…already, he seemed to be in a different world from the one I was in, but it made me happy to see him and his excitement at the coming of our baby. At this point, the contractions were still so new to me, that I found myself feeling curious about them, and totally willing to experience them without feeling rushed.
We went downstairs, and once again I felt the need to sit on the toilet, only nothing came. but a contraction more intense than any I had felt previously. I believe I was feeling the first urge to push (even though I may not have been fully dilated then…who knows?) and all of a sudden I was hot and sweaty and moaning and working damn hard. By this time also, I was of course unable anymore to time my contractions. I believe I had handed the watch Nick a while before, but he was clearly just as incapable as me. He would notice a change in my breathing and ask me whether one was starting…I think I just said “I don’t know, probably” not even really paying attention as I was being swept away by the waves through my body.
Anyways, while I was on the toilet downstairs, I said to Nick ‘call Cynthia’. He did. When she asked him how things were going, I think he said something like “I’m pretty nervous”. She got the picture instantly from that one sentence, and zoomed over “like the wind” as she said later. Just before she arrived, I began to doubt whether I was far enough along to warrant her presence,but her arrival was more comforting than I could ever have anticipated. She could be there with me through the contractions from a place of experience, and she really helped me to focus on the work I was doing, reminding me of the whole purpose of the contractions. She stroked my back in a downward direction and told me to bring the contraction or breath down. She gave me words of encouragement (“that’s the way”) in a soothing calm voice. We moved downstairs and I quickly entered transition which seemed to be one long intense contraction that never let up. Just as I said to Cynthia in desperation “they won’t stop”, she informed me that I was probably in transition, and that it wouldn’t last long. When the one endless contraction stopped, Cynthia checked on my progress, and as expected, I was fully dilated. I began to feel the urge to push, mistaking it at first for an urge to poop. Cynthia indulged me and let me trudge to the toilet saying ‘I don’t think so’ and sure enough as soon as I sat down, I realized too that I was ready to work on pushing my baby out. So I made my way back to the bed and got down on my hands and knees. And with the next contraction, Cynthia told me to go ahead and push. In fact, it was impossible not to push, the urge simply took over my entire body, although it took a few contractions to really get the hang of it. I remember making quite a lot of noise at first, and Cynthia told me to put all that into my pushing without letting it out through my mouth. I got feedback after each contraction and my focus increased tremendously as I realized I was on the home stretch and our baby was coming. I remember being struck at how much breath the pushing took out of me. Of course you don’t breathe when your pushing, and when the contraction would end, I would gasp for air. Then I remember our doula Molly telling me to enjoy that time (in between contractions) and I can honestly say that hearing her say that really helped me to do just that. Those moments between contractions were heaven!
After a short while I could feel the bulging of your head. Cynthia asked if I wanted to touch your hair as you were beginning to crown…but I was beginning to feel that ‘ring of fire’ as my perineum stretched to its utmost and I declined. It was a great comfort to know that it would only be a few more pushes. I remember the relief as your head came out….I listened for your cry. One more push and your shoulders passed through and the rest of you slid out easily and I knew my baby was here and you cried beautifully and I knew you were healthy. Cynthia brought your sticky body into my arms and you squirmed and cried and I began to soothe you as best I could, and I greeted you face to face for the first time. You were pink as a rose and perfect in every way and I felt so proud to have given birth to you.