Friday, December 13, 2013

A birth story

So, it has been an age and a day since I posted. I am a very neglectful blogger. 

To get back into the swing of things, I thought I would share D's birth story as we celebrate his birthday. One years old! Where on earth did the past year go?!

I scribbled down D's birth story in the hours and days after he joined our family. And then, a few months back, I pulled it all together for my cousin, Jennie, who is training to become a doula. Reader be warned: this birth story isn't graphic, but it does contain words like "uterus" and "mucous plug." (I'm thinking specifically of you here, Tante Toni.) 

We had a planned home birth with our wonderful midwives. I won't get into why we chose home birth here (perhaps a topic for another post), but for some interesting info about its safety, etc. for those curious, here is a good article to check out. 

What an amazing journey this past year has been. I feel so immensely blessed to be D's mom. 

So, without further ado, here is our birth story. 

Whoa belly.
I was already in bed for the night when Ben came home from his pick-up hockey game he plays on Wednesdays in the winter. As he slipped under the covers, I said to him, “I think I might be having contractions.”

I had been asleep when the first cramp-contraction hit at about 11 p.m., and the feeling of it caused me to wake, wide-eyed. I had heard from other women that they just knew when they were in labour – when it was the real thing – and at that moment, I knew what they meant. Something was happening.

While the contractions – irregular at this point – weren't painful, they demanded my attention. I was able to stay in bed, but getting back into a deep sleep was out of the question. I dozed between contractions, feeling excited as well as apprehensive. I urged Ben to try to get some sleep. There was no telling how long this process would take, and it would be prudent for at least one of us to get a good night's rest.

The contractions continued as the night went on, and I began to use my phone to time them. They were every six minutes or so, and lasted around 30-60 seconds. I found it difficult, though, to determine exactly when they started and finished.

At some point during a contraction, I felt a warm gush. It wasn't enough to be my water breaking, so I figured it must be my mucous plug. Okay, things are really happening here, I thought. I had to turn on the light to investigate if my suspicions were correct and to clean up. Ben woke up and began preparing the room for labour – changing the sheets, putting down drop sheets on the floor, and getting the other supplies ready. By about 4 a.m., the room was all set up and Ben lay down again to try to get a bit more rest.

Eventually it became too uncomfortable for me to remain laying down in bed on my side. I propped up pillows against the headboard and tried sitting up. I also tried moving down to my knees on the floor with my arms and head resting on the bed. Shortly afterwards, my water broke. The liquid was clear, so I didn't feel an urgency to phone the midwives right away. I spent the next while with a towel under me as the fluid seemed to keep coming and coming with no end in sight.

By around 7 a.m., I felt the contractions were strong enough to warrant a call to the midwives. I didn't want to phone earlier and wake them, as I figured well-rested midwives were a good thing to have around. I phoned the midwife paging system, and soon received a call back from one of my midwives, N. I filled her in on the night's happenings, and she said she would stop by to assess me. She popped by within 30-60 minutes. She determined that labour hadn't yet progressed, so to try having a hot shower and taking some Gravol and Tylenol. I had taken some Gravol earlier that night to try to help me relax enough to sleep.

I attempted the stalling techniques, but my labour only continued and increased in intensity. Ben went downstairs and busied himself by doing some dishes and tidying up. Meanwhile, I continued to labour upstairs, the contractions at this point strong enough that I had to breathe through them. Using my phone again to time them, I noticed that they were coming closer together, around four-and-a-half minutes at this point and lasting 45-60 seconds.

Around 10 a.m. we paged the midwives again. N phoned back, asked some questions, and said she would stop by again for another assessment. After arriving about a half hour later and assessing me, she began to bring in her equipment and prepare the room. At this point, I was labouring while seated at the edge of the bed. After finishing setting up, N examined me and found me to be six centimetres dilated and well effaced. I remember feeling elated at that news, as it was affirmation that things were indeed on their way. It also gave me added stamina for the journey ahead – I had made it through six centimetres, what were a few more?

I continued to labour at the edge of the bed, while Ben ran up and down the stairs to heat up our magic bag in the microwave. Ben was a huge support for me, rubbing my lower back and ensuring that I was continuing to sip on water and Gaterade, as well as use the bathroom frequently. His presence was there with me, and I knew he was available should I need anything, but he didn't smother me or try to get me to talk too much. I found that I needed to have quiet in order to focus and concentrate on each contraction.

Our other midwife, C, arrived at some point. Eventually she encouraged me to try changing positions, as I was still at the edge of the bed. I moved to the floor and leaned over our exercise ball. I found this position helpful, as I was able to roll the ball back and forth with the contractions. Labour then began to become more intense. The pain of the contractions felt white hot around my uterus and radiated down my thighs and through my lower back.

Rather than deep breathing, I began to take in four short inhales of breath and exhaled to the count of four. I found this gave me something to hold on to during the wave of pain. Breathe in to four. Breathe out to four. Repeat. Repeat.

Before long, I began to feel the involuntary urge to push. My body felt like it was shuddering, taking over. I knew I was getting close!

N and C were in the other room for much of this time, giving me my space, which I appreciated. They would pop over from time to time, encouraging me along the way. Once I began to feel the urge to push, N asked me if my contractions were changing. I remember feeling very impressed that she could tell – from my body language, or my breathing, perhaps?  – that I was getting close to the next stage.

Soon afterwards, C advised that I move back to the bed and lay on my side. I remember feeling hesitant, as the early contractions when I was laying down were painful, but I didn't have the desire to explain that so I just did as I was told. Laying on my side turned out to be comfortable (well, as comfortable as one can be at that point), and pushing was just about to begin.

Pushing was different than what I expected. I suppose I didn't anticipate the constant pressure. I was envisioning a push, then a break, then another push. Instead, I felt a push, which was rather painful, and then a lot of pressure. I remember uttering at one point, “It hurts!”

C and N were encouraging me, saying that baby was almost here and that I was doing a good job. I recall C reminding me to breathe, saying that I was giving breath to the baby. C told me that I had to listen to N, that she was going to tell me when to stop pushing or when to start. I nodded, yes, I understand.

After about 15 minutes, and as the midwives and Ben cheered me on with words like, “Baby is almost here!”, I felt a release, a gush, and out came our little boy.

Either C or N lay my son down on my chest. It was a surreal moment. Could this really be happening? Is he really mine? The room was dim, D was a bit bluish, and his sweet, sweet cry. Time stood still – I didn't really know what to feel or how to express my emotions. Just a stunned, surreal silence of just looking at him, taking it all in. Welcome home, baby.

One proud Papa.