I had spent the months preceding anxious & troubled. Xavier's birth was a pretty epic & traumatic event. I didn't want a repeat & I was determined to do whatever I needed to do to ensure this next baby was born vaginally. From December onward I was obsessed with fetal positioning -posterior, bad, anterior, good -even better if we could keep that baby riding on the left side. Thankfully, every midwifery appointment leading up to the date confirmed that baby was settling in in a left anterior position. I leaned forward in my chair whenever I sat, I lay exclusively on my left side when sleeping. Matt did nightly rebozo sifting in the final month, & Xavier even got in on the action once or twice. My body was cooperating this time! In fact, my entire belly skewed to the left so seriously that my belly button shifted to the right to give it a little more room. For a long while after the birth, I suspected my belly button would never return to it's original position:).
On the morning of February 6th, Matt left for Longview to visit a client site, a small town just over an hour away. His plan was to carefully attend to his phone in the event that labor started & he needed to head home immediately. I chatted with Matt around 9:15am to complain that I was feeling nauseous, exhausted & that I was undergoing a lot of lower back pain. I contemplated fixing another chiropractic appointment. Matt suggested perhaps labor was starting, but I blew him off. Not more than an hour later, as I was getting Xavier his mid-morning snack I noticed a rhythm starting to develop in my body. The contractions had begun. Still mild, but unrelenting. The pattern was hard to pick up. It settled & slowed whenever I did. I was skeptical. My experience the first time told me to count on nothing. A baby could still be days & days away....
But this was real. No doubt about it. And steady. I couldn't move when the contractions came. I leaned heavily on the counter. Xavier watched me, wondering, curious. He didn't seem too alarmed, thankfully. We had talked so much about this day. He had been so worried on occasion. We read "Hello Baby" earlier on. There is a passage where the mama hollers so loudly the little boy cannot hear someone who has called on the telephone. At one point I told him that when Mama is having our baby, I might make a lot of noise. To demonstrate, I hollered out: "aaaaaugh!" His little eyes filled with tears. He seemed so afraid at the thought of mama in pain. I held him close & tried to explain how some pain is good pain because it means a baby is coming. He had a really hard time understanding, as one might imagine. It had been my plan to have him present with us during the birth of this baby. But as labor began, I still wasn't sure how this would pan out. I wasn't wedded to the idea, in any case.
We passed the morning together much as we usually did. We played piano, finger painted, built a farm yard, built a damn, made a river with a blue Moby wrap spread along the ground. All the while the contractions came. I put Xavier down for a nap at our usual time around 1 or 2pm. When I lay down the contractions slowed, but never ceased. I spoke to Catherine Schaefer, my midwife (A Gentle Beginning), & she advised that I try to get a little rest since I was most likely heading towards a long night. I tried to lay down around 3pm but was unable to sleep. The contractions were steady & seemed to speed up when I stood up & walked around. I used a stop watch to track them & while they never seemed to pick up the pace with any speed, they grew more predictable & rhythmic as the day wore on.
Matt came home around 4pm to find us much as we had been for the entire day...laboring slow & steady. He cooked up a big batch of chicken noodle soup for our dinner, although I don't recall eating all that much. I chatted a few of my friends who were hoping to come over for the birth -Danica, Emilia, my neighbor/friend Brett...Danica offered to come over pronto, but I put her off. I still imagined myself to be in early labor only & didn't want to waste anyone's time. Around 6pm I told Brett to come over since I waste her time all the time:). I felt so in control all this while, laboring seriously but without too great of an effort. I could still talk through contractions & was able to stand & move about for the most part.
At 6:30 Brett came over. Contractions at this point were about 7.5 minutes apart & 1 minute in duration. Xavier was giddy, he built a farm out of blocks with Matt as we chatted & had a grand time. I think he knew something big & exciting was happening. Brett gave him a little baby carrier she had sewn & he tried it on with a stuffed doggy playing the role of baby. I took a few photos nuzzled up with my boy. It was hard to believe that in a few hours time he would cease to be my only little baby. He would become my big boy overnight.
Around 7:15 things started to get serious. I could no longer talk through my contractions, although I was still able to stand. When I was up & walking around they would come every 3 minutes apart, when resting they stalled to 6 minutes between. They were lasting about a minute each & were growing more & more intense as time went on. By 8pm I was unable to speak through them & had to really focus & give myself over to the pain, although I still preferred to stand. Around 8pm I called Catherine to inform her things were heating up as Matt shuttled Xavier into his bedroom in hopes the boy could get some sleep this busy, crazy night (the most miraculous part of this whole experience was that Xavier went to bed right when active labor began & did not awaken until I was coming out of the shower at 6:30 am...seriously...what luck! He reported later that he could hear me moaning, but I'm not sure if that's true. Either way, the timing couldn't have been better).
At 9pm the nurse arrived. Catherine was waylaid by a meeting & would come along as soon as she could get away. She sent her nurse, Rachel, in the meantime to check my cervix & report back my progress. At this point it occurred to me that I could well have a long night ahead & should probably practice getting through contractions in another manner other than standing. I was concerned my legs would grow tired before I really needed them (pushing!), so I tried all fours. I found I was able to manage them quite nicely on hands & knees. Rachel set up some of her things on the piano table in the dining room where we had erected the birth tub. After she had set things up, Rachel asked me to come into the bedroom to get checked in between contractions. They were coming pretty quickly then, so it was hard to stay on my back long enough to get through a check. For whatever reason (retroverted uterus?!) she was unable to feel my cervix & had to shove her hand up there again & again in a most uncomfortable, aggressive manner, as I endured contraction after contraction on my back. It was torment. I remember looking at Brett like "wtf?!?!?!" & hoping like hell the rest of the evening was gonna go better than these 5 minutes were going. Finally, FINALLY, she managed to get a good read & informed me that I was (only!) dilated to 3cm. I was crestfallen, but she didn't seem phased so I tried not to let it bother me. I felt confident I would have moved further along by now...but alas. I was already further along than I'd been in the first 24 hours of my first labor with Xavier, so it was progress.
At this point, things really started taking off. The contractions were coming ever minute or two & I felt like I wasn't getting a break at all. I complained that it was going too fast. I spent a lot of the time on my hands & knees, hunched over the ottoman or the coffee table, or a pillow, gritting my way through each contraction. I felt an intense need to go poop, but couldn't seem to stand or sit long enough to make it happen. I would run to the bathroom & try to manage a poop, only to fall onto the bathroom floor with the pain of another contraction. I would climb back on the toilet & try to resume my business in between contractions. It was pretty miserable. I realized at some point that Matthew was still in the bedroom with Xavier. I laughed and suggested perhaps he'd fallen asleep with the boy. That would have been pretty silly. But no, it was just too noisy & Xavier was pretty excited. But Matt managed to get him settled & returned to join us in the living room.
Around 10:30 Rachel checked me again. I was a whopping 6cm & dilating fast! I was thrilled! Things were really moving! Brett called Danica & Emilia at this point to tell them that the game was on! The contractions were serious now & with each one I felt my entire body throb with pain. I gripped my lower back & writhed with each one. The pain was incredible & getting worse with each contraction. I was starting to worry Catherine wouldn't make it.
But Catherine finally showed up around 11:30pm. I was so happy to see her. I trusted her with this whole show & knew if she was there everything was going to be okay. She just had such a wonderfully casual way about her. Although I confess I never once felt anything resembling fear or anxiety. Once my labor began I was wholly devoted to seeing it through. It never occurred to me that anything was going to go wrong. It was the most natural thing in the world to be having a baby here in my living room. I told Catherine things were going crazily & that I wasn't getting a break. "You're having a baby!" she said. Of course! She checked me once she unloaded her things & I had progressed to 8-9cm -nearly complete, just a little lip. This was happening...& soon!
My friends trickled in, although at this point I was hard pressed to notice. I probably greeted them with a middle finger. It was really hurting at this point. Matt snapped some photos & I flipped him off. Emilia & Danica & Brett lounged around the living room chatting while I worked. It was just another social engagement, except for the laboring mama in the middle of the room.
For whatever reason, my friends forgot to fill my birth tub on the early side. It's possible labor was progressing faster than they figured it would? In any case, it was finally full enough for me to climb in by around midnight, although it was never really very full (we ran out of hot water!). But it felt so amazing to be weightless! The pain was still with me, but so much more manageable in the buoyancy of the water. I began to groan loudly with each contraction at Catherine's urging -low, deep, & guttural. At some point I could hear Xavier stirring within his room. Matt went in to resettle him. It occurred to me as I groaned & twisted about & contorted my face scarily, that I was very very glad my little boy was not present to hear & see me go through this work. He is a sensitive soul & would probably have been a little troubled. And I was glad for myself psychologically that I was able to focus wholly on the task at hand without worrying about this small child's mental state.
As for my mental state? I was having a wonderful time! In between contractions I felt like I was at my very own private birth party. I was in a great mood. My friend's were stationed on chairs around the birth tub or lounging in the living room, Matt was hanging out, Catherine & her apprentice & nurse were doing whatever they were doing, music was playing. It was a blast. And according to the witnesses, I was apparently a very hilarious birthing mother. Catherine claimed that in 30 years of assisting at births, she had never seen someone be so silly. "Most women get really serious & introspective in the late stages of labor" she told me. Not me. Here are a few choice quotes that my dear friends were clever enough to record for me:
At one point I declared that I needed to pee & was going to just pee in the tub. "I can pee where ever I want to. It's my house. My son pees all over this house!"
"I feel like a baby is gonna come out. Either that or a big poop."
"This is great. It's like a hot tub. Can I get a beer?"
"Those hypno-birthing orgasmic birthing assholes can eat a bag of dicks!!"
"What time is it?" 12:15. "Shit! We could still make last call after this baby comes!"
Listening to Miles Davis "Kind of Blue"..."Matt, this music is way too carefree!"
"My idea of birth is completely different this time!"
At the beginning of a contraction: "Okay, everybody!!"
"I am not having fun anymore."
"I am seriously having second thoughts about having a second baby."
Catherine: "The feeling of wanting to poop might be your baby."
Me: "I hope so...that little shit!"
"Why didn't I just get the scheduled c-section?!"
I did this for an hour or so. Joking, laughing, waiting for contractions, then digging in, groaning, guttural & low, while Rachel pressed on a spot on my lower back to help relieve the pain. I wanted her hands there. I tried to hold my hips myself but failed. The pain grew more & more intense. I could feel the contractions building "Here we go!!" I declared, as I rose out of the water partially into a squat & prepared for the pain. "I want to crawl out of my skin!!" I hollered more than a few times as the contractions built. I resisted the urge to writhe uncontrollably. I wanted desperately to crawl away from the pain to someplace safe & outside of myself. I needed to get to the other side of each contraction as quickly as possible, but they seemed to plod on & intensify. Eventually, my jocularity faded & took the time between contractions to rest, lax, slack, my head on my chest, breathing deeply. I maybe even dozed, it's really hard to say. I was able to relax so completely between contractions. It was strange.
Somewhere around 1 or 2am I started making grunting sounds as I labored in the tub. I could feel my body digging in, my butt sinking down, it was kind of like needing to poop but kind of not. I felt grunty & ready to get this baby out. Catherine noticed my sounds & told me to get out of the tub. She checked me & I was just shy of complete owing to that very stubborn cervical lip. We had waited for it to move on it's own long enough. Catherine was going to take matters into her own hands. First she had me go to the bedroom & lay on my side. It was an uncomfortable position for a contraction. She asked me to push with each contraction. The hope was that the pressure of my body on that side would move the lip, but it was ineffective. Next, she had me squat leaning on Matt's arms in front of my bedroom door in the dining room. She put her fingers deep inside me & told me to push, She was struggling to move the lip aside with her fingers against the pressure of my pushing. I moaned, "no! no! no! it hurts!!!" It was really awful & I didn't want to push against that pressure at all. We did this a few very tortuous times & finally, FINALLY, the lip slid aside. "That's it. It's gone!" Catherine chirped. She did all this crazy business the way someone would approach washing dishes or taking out the trash. It was all so matter-of-fact.
This is when I think I hit transition in retrospect, although in the thick of it I had no idea what was going on. Catherine suggested I go try laboring on the toilet for a little bit. I always felt like I had to poop, so I figured I'd give it a go. Previously, the toilet was the LAST place I wanted to be for a contraction but I went anyways & for some reason now it wasn't bad at all. I sat there for a while it seemed, gripping the toilet paper holder (which never quite stuck to the wall the same way after that:) & while the contractions were still coming, they were no longer knocking me in the ass. Suddenly I was FREEZING cold. I wanted a shirt, no a blanket, no a robe....I don't know what I want! I need something. I think Emilia was going to run get me something but I couldn't decide what I wanted. Someone finally draped a towel over my shoulders & by that time I was probably over it.
By 2:45 we were ready to start pushing in earnest. I had never done this before, & contrary to what a lot of people report, despite feeling sorta grunty, I didn't really have a strong "urge" to push. And I definitely didn't feel like pushing felt a lot "better" than the other kind of work I had been doing before. It was hard. Fucking hard. And it still hurt like hell. Catherine decided we would start trying in a squat position. The midwifery team brought all their equipment to the kitchen & we set up a chair & got to work. It seemed like they really thought this was gonna happen pronto. They positioned a chair near the door in the center of the room. Matt sat in it & I dangled between his legs. "Keep your butt down!" Catherine kept telling me. But my entire being wanted to retreat from that feeling! I did not want to push my bottom down into that pain. I wanted to clench up & away from it. I tried, though, over & over, through 4 or 5 contractions. It was really hard work but I felt so insecure -like I didn't know what I was doing. I remember feeling so encouraged when Catherine would shout "That's right, L! Like that! Push like that!" & my whole birth crew would cheer & urge me on & I tried desperately to remember the feeling of how I was pushing so I could repeat it the next time. I felt really uncoordinated & inadequate to the task in general.
Catherine decided that I might make quicker progress on my back in the so-called Russian position, so we moved back to my bedroom. All my friends tagged along after the midwifery team where ever I went. They must have been kind of a comical sight. Catherine instructed me to lay down which was all well & good so long as there wasn't a contraction, but HOLY HELL as soon as contraction came I did NOT want to be on my back! Catherine barked at her apprentice & nurse & they tackled me as I bucked reflexively & kicked my legs & tried to get back up onto my knees. They held my legs back by my ears as I pushed & pushed. This position, while more uncomfortable in some ways, was way more productive for me. I was able to push & feel the progress & know that it was working. "Yes, L! Like that! Push like that!" Catherine exclaimed, so I tried over & over to please her. All the while they were monitoring my wee girl's heartbeat, of course. And in this position she was taxed. Nothing serious, but her heart rate flagged & so we couldn't stay that way for long. We got up & settled in for some squat pushing in the doorway of my bedroom. Catherine ordered her apprentice to bust out the oxygen & I took it like a drug. I was pushing with all my energy & holding my breathe for these lengthy pushes of a minute or more. It was so hard on my lungs that for days afterward I could hardly move without having serious shortness of breathe. I sucked the oxygen in gladly as I knew it was helping my baby & helping me to breathe easier. I wasn't that worried about the baby, but I did ask every time the monitor came out: "She's okay? Everything's OK?" At this point, squatting in the doorway, Catherine said I could feel her head if I wanted to. I thrust my hand down between my legs & felt a slimy, hairy little bit of baby scalp. It was all the motivation I needed to get this baby the rest of the way out.
Back on my back Catherine really got serious. Rachel & the apprentice held my legs back with renewed vigor & I pushed with all my might each time the contractions came. I'm told that most babies crown slowly. First you see a little scalp, then the circle widens & you see a little more with each push until finally the maximum stretch is achieved (i.e. the so-called "ring of fire") & then the baby is born. With this little one, you saw a little head & then WHAMMO! She came bursting through with one giant push, a burst of blood spilling around her scalp as my vagina tore pretty dramatically to make way for her. Catherine told me afterward that usually she coaxes mothers so their pushes are more tempered, but since the heart rate had been doing funny things & since I had been pushing for 45 minutes & was growing tired, she wanted that baby out as soon as could be. And so she came out in a hurry. I don't remember anything like a ring of fire. Her head coming out didn't hurt any worse than anything that had come before. I was just so glad to get her out I didn't register any special pain. But truly: the whole lot hurt like a mother-fucker.
And so it was: 3:26AM, the morning of February 7th, my baby girl was born in the bed where she was conceived. "My baby! my baby!" I said, over & over. "I did it!" I propped up to try to peak between my own legs & see what was going on down there. Catherine put the baby up on my belly. She was a plump, pink, round-headed crying, bloody mess of a thing, but so so pretty, so perfect. "She's so pretty!" I said. "That's the last time I'll say that" I hastily corrected myself -my knee jerk inner feminist rearing her ugly head. Girls aren't just pretty, they're smart, right? What I meant was "she's pretty" as in not a hideous ugly baby like SOME babies. Although who knows...do people with ugly babies think their babies are ugly? Probably not. My beautiful, bloody little girl took a poop on my belly & I got poop all over me but I didn't care at all. The midwifery team covered her little body in a blanket as I held her on my chest. Helena Sage is what we called her. I looked & looked at her beautiful tiny face, all scrunched up & complaining. "Shh, shh, shh sweet baby." When the cord had stopped pulsating, Matt snipped it (& Helena has a lovely little belly button to show for it).
I still had to birth the placenta which was another push or two. I can't recall a thing about it, but I know from photographs that I held my baby all wrapped up on my chest while I pushed. It was easy compared to the work that came before. Helena's placenta was enormous & beautiful -a great bloody network of branches (we kept it in a plastic box in the freezer for a few days & then dear, crazy Emilia cooked it up & encapsulated it for me:).
I put Helena to my breast first thing & the wee pro latched on without a problem. It was amazing. In fact, we were side-lying nursing before the first day was done.
After the beautiful first meeting, wee baby Helena needed to be weighed & measured given her Vitamin K orally. Catherine eye-balled & guessed she'd be around 8 -8.5. But she came in at a whopping 9lbs & 21 inches. I knew she wasn't going to be a small baby & I was glad- big babies are so much safer. I remember Catherine sitting beside the bed, holding Helena. "Thank you for believing in me," I said through tears. I felt so fortunate to be in the care of this wise, strong woman. "I will NEVER do that again." I swore to all who would listen.
Unfortunately, because I tore so seriously, I had to spend a fair bit of time getting stitched up. For a woman who had just endured hour upon hour of mind-splittingly horrific pain, I was quite a wimp when it came to the stitches. A large chunk of my labia had to be snipped off as it tore in such a way as to leave a flap that would have been tough to repair. Catherine said that "she'd seen worse tears" which was hardly comforting. I winced & smarted my way through the ordeal. It was worse than labor in its way. When she finished stitching she informed me that I was unlikely to "look the same down there." "Bummer," I replied, "there goes my porn career."
Once my nether-bits were repaired, I was escorted to my feet & into the bathroom for a shower. This is when I discovered how truly wrecked my body was from what I'd been through. As noted above, I could hardly breathe when I moved about. I felt so painfully short of breath it was really quite frightening. My core muscles were shredded & my knees were weak. I stood in the shower for a brief spell, but then slowly dropped to my knees where I spent the rest of the time under the running water. It felt so delicious to get all the sweaty, grimy, bloody mess of birth off of my body. It was mildly alarming to see the great, bright globs of blood & tissue drop out of my vagina & run down the drain. I wasn't prepared for that part. I felt so dizzy owing to the shortness of breath. The apprentice (Andrea) stayed with me just outside the curtain in the event that I would need her. I stumbled out of the tub when I was finished & she helped me into a pair of hospital stretchy undies with a giant pad stuck inside & covered my body in my old maternity robe.
Meanwhile, Rachel & Catherine had cleaned up all the evidence that anything birth-y had been happening in the house, although some of the furniture was still moved around (which Xavier remembered months & months later..."the midwives were here & the little table was over there instead of here..."). The bed sheets were changed & everything was restored to it's proper order.
I waddled out into the living room & as I did I saw my little Xavier just coming out of his bedroom. "Where's mama?" he asked Matt. It was somewhere around 6:30AM at this time. "Xavier!" I said, in a feeble, breathless whisper, "something very special happened last night! Mama worked very hard -I squished out a baby just like a little poo! Come with me. I want to show you..." Rachel was holding Helena at this time & once I got settled in the bed with Xavier, she laid her down beside us. He so sweetly peaked in the blankets at her scrunched up little baby face. It was such a sweet, lovely moment. I'll never forget it all my life. I felt such intense wishes for joy & happiness for both of these children, meeting here in my bed for the first time -a wish that they would find in one another a true friend & confidant....and the sincere hope that Xavier wouldn't take it too hard when the going got tough, as it invariably would for a spell. Xavier must have been out of his mind with wonder. I cannot imagine what his little body was feeling at that moment. I suspect I'll ever know.
By now Catherine & her team were ready to depart with promises to visit the following day (a nurse named Carissa would come). Catherine told me that Helena had some mucus in her lungs & was therefore failing to settle & sleep like most babies would have. She wasn't crying, but whimpering & wheezy & a little fussy. It would take a couple days of spitting up to get all that gunk out of her lungs. When my house was finally empty & quiet, I tucked my wee tiny Helena Sage into bed beside me & tried to catch a few hours of sleep but to no avail of course. Instead I marveled at the miracle of her beautiful, tiny body & reflected on the intense passage I had just endured. I spoke with my mother & sister, swearing to all who would listen that I would NEVER EVER have another baby as long as I lived because the pain was just too ridiculous. By the 2nd or 3rd day I was singing a different tune, interestingly enough. Amazing how the memory of the pain fades swiftly from that first instant. And as I'm writing this I recall feeling as though I'd never want to do it again, yet I think I could handle it...and reflecting makes me wish I COULD do it again because it was really the most intensely beautiful moment of my entire life.
