This is the birth story of Robert Wallace, my second
son. He was born on April 15, 2015 at
8:05 a.m. He was 20.5 inches long and 7
lbs. 12 oz., our heaviest baby yet.
I was nervous to give birth again, unmedicated, so I halfway
convinced myself that I’d be pregnant forever.
Due to months of awful Braxton Hicks contractions, I worried that I
wouldn’t know when labor was starting.
Early Tuesday morning, I was awoken by what I thought were
contractions, but I quickly fell back to sleep.
I was going to be pregnant forever, remember? I had my 40 week appointment a few hours
later. It was the first appointment I’d
attended without Clara and Seven in tow, thanks to the kindness of a ward
member. It was nice to have a real
conversation with the midwife.
Thankfully, all was well with baby and me. I had to set up my 41 week appointments,
including extra monitoring for being overdue.
For the first time, I thought it might be a good idea for the baby to
make their entrance.
Around 4:30 that afternoon, I had another clue that labor
was approaching: bloody show. I informed
my mom, but had to convince her to stay in Globe – I didn’t want the pressure
to perform. I decided to go teach ballet,
which Anson thought was insane. I was
just happy to have a distraction! When I
walked into the studio, everyone was shocked to see me. Apparently there had been a rumor started the
day before that my baby had been born! I
was amused, but sorry to disappoint. The
rest of the night went normally. Anson
finished building the cosleeper, my brother-in-law came over to give me a
blessing, and I went to bed early, all just in case I went into labor that
night.
Sometime after midnight, I lost the battle of sleeping
through possible contractions. It was
almost unbelievable that contractions could be so strong, yet still 15-20
minutes apart. I tried to stay in bed,
to rest, but I soon found myself jumping to my feet as a wave would start,
eager to walk through the pain. I was
definitely confused; it couldn’t be labor!
At 3:03 a.m., I decided to time the pains. I thought I could prove that I was being a
huge wimp. The pains were 10-12 minutes
apart, plus the occasional 6-8 apart. No
way it could be real labor, right?
Finally, at 4:20 a.m., I decided to experiment. What would happen if I didn’t get back in
bed? Would labor pick up or die
out? When the next five contractions
were 4-6 minutes apart, I was shocked.
How did that happen?! I decided
to call my mom. I reluctantly updated
her on my situation and told her we could just “hang out” if nothing happened. That was at 4:45 a.m. Half an hour later, I was on the phone with
Amy, the midwife. She said we should meet
at the birth center around 6:15-6:30 a.m.
At that point, I was still unconvinced that I was in labor, but part of
me hoped that 6:30 wouldn’t be too late.
My mother-in-law soon arrived to watch the kids. By that time, contractions were 3-4 minutes
apart, and I could tell that my mother-in-law was worried. I started to worry, too, and headed towards
the car, knowing full well that we would beat the midwife, but feeling a very
strong desire to be at the birth center, regardless.
During the car ride, I focused on counting all of my body
parts during contractions. When we
arrived, I exited the car and noticed my feet were soaked with sweat. I also started shivering and my teeth were
chattering. It was about this time that
I finally started to believe that I might really be in labor. Anson took over the contraction timer, while
I paced the parking lot, with a towel draped over my shoulders. The 20 minutes it took for Amy to arrive
seemed like an eternity. I felt vulnerable
and unable to progress. I suddenly realized
that my mom probably wouldn’t make it in time for the birth.
I was feeling a lot of downward pressure during contractions
outside the birth center. I both wanted
to keep my legs together to stop progress and open them up by a foot it get it
over with. Once inside, Amy checked me
and said I was almost at the end of transition (translation from the future:
9cm). The tub was filling SO SLOWLY, so
I walked in circles, pants-less, with my eyes closed, desperately willing it to
be full.
FINALLY! I was able
to enter the tub and it was a huge relief, both mentally and physically. Then, things got weird. My contractions spaced out and got much less
intense. My mom showed up (yay!), so I
thought maybe things would pick up.
Nope. I was very present and
alert at this time. I began questioning
Amy about what was taking so long. She
said my waters were still intact and “helping” the baby to descend slowly. OH HECK NO!
I started to get very impatient.
The only thought in my head was that I needed to break my own water, to
get the baby out.
That strange period lasted for 1-1.5 hours. Contractions spaced out and lessened in
intensity. I was just kneeling in the
tub, waiting for something to happen. I
was so annoyed with everything, especially when people tried to remind me of my
birth plan (“let my body push, don’t interfere”) and how I believed in “natural”.
I’ll admit that I did try to break my own water, every time I thought someone wouldn’t
notice! (For this online birth story, I’ll
leave out the details of that endeavor!) Time dragged on, my feet fell asleep,
I tried different positions, I did a lot of complaining, but nothing happened.
And then, all on its own, IT BROKE! I was so happy and announced it proudly. Yay!
(7:57 a.m.) The downward pressure
immediately increased. The contractions intensified
and quickened. I gave small pushes
during the surges to help baby drop.
With each inhale and exhale I would tilt my head from right to
left. Suddenly, I felt the head bulging
and almost crowning. My left hand
quickly and instinctively dove down to lend support. The midwife and nurse heard the splash of my
hand and rushed into the room.
With each inhale, I imagined lava and fire, but with each
exhale, I imagined blowing snow onto the painful burn, extinguishing it. The first crowning push (8:03 a.m.) didn’t
seem to stretch me enough, so I tried to hold back. It was extremely painful, much more than I
remember with Steven, so I found it difficult to control myself. As much as it hurt to do so, I tried my best
to keep the head crowning until the next contraction. Then, in the next surge or two, the head
finally emerged. What an amazing relief!!
The midwife instructed me to grab the head and I vividly remember feeling a
tiny ear with my left hand. It was
magical! I asked Amy if I could wait for
another contraction to birth the shoulders.
She was hesitant and asked for “grunty pushes” while she checked the
neck for a cord. Amy then told me to
lean a different direction (very hard to do!) and to push. Then – I pushed! My baby was born and lifted out of the water,
onto my chest, at 8:05 a.m.
The baby was silent at first, but I saw his eyes
moving. For a split second, I thought
(and asked aloud) that something might be wrong. While Amy rubbed his back, he let out his
first cry. Hallelujah! I peeked between baby’s legs and then subtly
showed Anson. Another boy! I knew it!
Everything from that moment on went smoothly. Only the after-pains gave me any bother. Robert was a perfect blessing. Breastfeeding was amazing (well, at least until my milk came in!). I escaped without any injuries. Anson and I were able to take a nap while my
mom and Mimi loved on the new baby. The
day was wonderful, magical, and sacred in every way.
Usually, the birth story would end there, but I have to add
this gem:
On the way home from the birth center, a few hours later,
Anson drove me through a cute neighborhood.
In actuality, he was checking up on a job site! His brother walked up to the truck and said, surprised,
“Oh my heck! Is that your wife in there?” We all laughed. I’m not sure how many husbands take their wives
and hours-old babies to work with them! I
don’t think I’ll ever let Anson live that story down.
