musings of a bean: March 2013

You can find Roscoe's birth story here. These 2 stories are night and day. I can't believe how different this experience was.

The people of the story (so I don't have to keep clarifying every time a new name comes up) are me (haha, obviously), Mark (my husband), Elizabeth (my midwife), Jenn (Elizabeth's apprentice), Chanelle (Elizabeth's apprentice), and Brandy (the birth photographer).

Contractions and "warm up pains" had been going on for 2 and a half weeks before I actually went into active labor. Jenn sent me a text the evening of February 2nd to check on me, and I told her of how I had been feeling in general, and that I was starting to let go of the "I don't want to go into labor in the middle of the night" mentality. Up until that evening, every time we put Roscoe to bed and started heading that way ourselves, I was begging Everett not to come until the next day. I valued my sleep so much, and there's this little part of me that felt "bad" for having to call the team in while they were sleeping. (I know guys, that's ridiculous. But it's how I felt.) This was Jenn's response to that: "Tell him it's safe to come out. Tell him how much you'll love on him when he gets here. Tell him how ready you are to meet him. Switch your desires to wanting him to decide to come in perfect timing. And most moms give birth at night. You did! Maybe a bit of sabotaging going on? Subconsciously... You will sleep. You will get a good stretch after the birth. The body needs to birth when it can solely focus on birth. For most of us that's the middle of the night. Be okay with that. Welcome it."

(Love her...)

So, February 2nd, around 8 pm, I had the feeling things were going to pick up. (Mark says he felt that the time had come around 6 pm that same night.) He put Roscoe to bed at 8 and went to the gym to get a workout in before things got going strong. While he was gone, I worked through contractions that were getting longer and stronger. There was still no rhyme or reason to the timing of them. But I could tell a difference between these and the ones that I had previously been experiencing. These seemed to surge through my whole body, and I had to breathe out slowly while I rolled back and forth on the exercise ball to get through them.

At 9:35 pm I sent a message to Elizabeth. Here is the conversation:
Me: Contractions that come are a lot stronger now. Kind of feel them surging through my whole body. Starting to take more concentration to get through them.
Elizabeth: Allright! I'm ready when you are. Don't wait too long to call!
Me: Ok. So many false alarms over the past couple weeks, it's hard to judge when to call. Guess that's where Mark comes in to help discern.... So used to things starting and stopping.
Elizabeth: Yes, when you are in that zone where you need to have him call instead of you it would be good to call. Also if these different contractions last a minute or longer.
Me: Ok, be in touch...

Mark and I decided to try to go to bed to get some rest. I was able to rest through a couple contractions, but then around midnight one hit me so hard that (almost in one swift motion) I immediately transitioned from lying down to an on-all-fours position to rock through it. I went into a child's pose position after that one and that was the moment that I realized that this was not a "false alarm." My labor was starting/picking up/let's start the timer folks because he's coming out.

I got out of bed because the worst feeling when I'm in labor is having to lie down. It goes against everything I feel I feel helps to work through the contractions. So I started pulling out towels and supplies for the birth, setting everything up in the kitchen. Mark came out of the room and pulled out the birth pool and did his part to help get my "birth zone" prepared. We moved around in what (through my eyes) felt like a dance, silent and unified in preparing the house for the arrival of our second son.

February 3rd, 12:56 am:
Me: The contractions are lasting a minute on average, sometimes a little longer.
Elizabeth: They are coming regularly and you are working through?
Me: Yes. Sometimes spaced 5 minutes, sometimes 3, sometimes there may be an 8 minute gap. But each that comes is strong, and I have to work through every one.
Relying on your judgment at the moment for when to come. I don't want to jump the gun, but also realize with his positioning that things could move quicker than I am thinking they will.
Elizabeth: Ok. I will mosey in that direction if you are comfortable with that. We probably have a little time but I would rather come and sleep in the other room than come too late.
Me: Sounds good.

(Roscoe was posterior at birth, causing crazy please-let-me-die-or-at-least-never-have-a-baby-again back labor. At the time, Everett was *believed to be* more anterior, with his head in the correct position and his spine facing my left side. So we were expecting a much faster labor, not just because it was my 2nd, but also because of the positioning. That's the explanation behind the text above.)

Elizabeth arrived around 2 am and listened to Everett's heart as I had a contraction. She observed me working through contractions and decided she'd start setting things up. So I sent a message to Brandy at 2:25 to head over and that was the last time I communicated with anyone by phone. I was officially in the zone. Elizabeth called her apprentices and told them it was probably a good time to come. When I heard her make that call I thought "What? Surely it's not time for everyone to come over... Isn't it so early?" I was remembering how things felt so slow with Roscoe, and even though I knew this one was likely to be faster, there was this small part of me that was in disbelief that it was really time!

The rest is a blur for me. And it happened so quickly. They filled up the birth pool and I was waiting to be checked to see if I could get in. That's really the only reason I wanted to have my cervix checked this time. With Roscoe, each time I was checked seemed to mess with my mind. I would think I was further along than I was and would get down when I heard the small number. Elizabeth understood this and I felt that she was on the same page with me. So up until this point, I hadn't been checked, even though I'd been having contractions for weeks. I was just trusting my body to do what it was designed to do, knowing that I didn't HAVE to know how dilated I was for things to progress. Yes, there was a curiosity there, but the curiosity didn't win over my decision to trust my body. And I loved having the support of everyone on this.

So, as I'm waiting to be checked to see if I could go into the pool (if you get in the water too early, it can slow your labor), Elizabeth approached me and said "you can get in whenever you want."

In my mind:
Huh? Seriously? No checking?!
Oh, she knows what she's doing. Don't question her decisions....

So I headed back to the room to change out of my dress and into a tank top that wouldn't bother me in the water. (I wouldn't have cared about the clothes situation if I didn't want to be able to show the bulk of the pictures Brandy was taking. Because the majority of the pictures we have from Roscoe's birth are..... uh..... not viewable by anyone but us.) This is a funny memory in my mind.... I was in the room changing my dress/tank top and was trying to get a bathing suit bottom on (again, for pictures' sake).... But I couldn't lift my foot off the ground to put it on because every time I tried it sent sharp pains all through me. And I would basically bring on a contraction. As I struggled with this for a minute it hit me: good grief, you're about to birth a human. It's gotta come off anyway. Screw it, modesty.... I'll just keep the torso G-rated.

So in the pool I went. It. Felt. So. Good.

If you ever have the opportunity to try a natural labor, choose the water birth! You won't regret it!

From here on out, my perspective of the birth is quite possibly not reality. What seemed to me to be a few minutes was possibly only seconds, or what I felt was dragging on for eternity was, according to what Mark tells me, very quick. I find it funny how labor looks totally different through the woman's eyes and the eyes of the witnesses. I feel like I was loud, Mark says I labored quietly for the most part, until towards the end when they had to close Roscoe's door so I wouldn't wake him.

Elizabeth, Chanelle, and Brandy pretty much stayed in the kitchen while Mark and I were in the living room. At one point, the contractions had been coming so much closer together, and I was curious how far down he had descended. (For so many hours of my first labor, Roscoe was about an inch or two inside.) So after a contraction, I reached to see if I could feel his head. He wasn't *right there* but he felt a lot further down than I expected him to be. I called out to Elizabeth to tell her this, thinking maybe she'd come to check me and let me know how I was doing. Instead she said "ok, we'll come get ready." The faith she had in just watching me and letting my body do what it was doing without any interference was so empowering.

Elizabeth on far left, Chanelle in middle, Mark, me.

There came a point sometime around the time of this picture where I was worried Jenn wasn't going to make it. It was so important to me that she be there, so I was starting to get worried. Mark, as he always does, calmed me. I don't remember if he used words or if I even mentioned my distress over Jenn not being there yet, but just Mark's touch through each contraction reaffirmed me that all was going to be ok, whether she made it or not.

One of my favorite pictures

At some point in here, Elizabeth told me she'd be happy to check me whenever I wanted her to. So I said sure, why not... She checked, and delivered the WONDERFUL news that I was at 9 cm. 9 CM!!!!!!! I'll take it!!! The one and only time for this pregnancy, delivery that I was checked, I was at a 9. I was elated. And so thankful that we had decided to just let me be and labor without knowing.

Jenn did arrive, by the way, and I was relieved. Time to get the baby out.

Top to bottom: Mark, Jenn, Elizabeth, me, Chanelle's hand on right :)

Oh, I'm a touchy-feely, touch me-feel me kinda person when laboring. Some women want hands off. No, I need love and affirmation through touch. Please look at my birth team above. Elizabeth, Jenn, and Chanelle are all touching me, holding my arms, hands, legs.

Elizabeth and Mark had swapped places during my pushy stage (once they could see baby), so that Mark could catch Everett.

Every laboring woman hits the "I can't do this anymore" point, signaling that it's almost over. I hit it sometime around this picture, feeling completely defeated and unable, and they all looked me in the eye and affirmed that all was going well and I could do it, it wasn't long til he'd be here.

I pushed for what felt like an hour, Mark says it wasn't long at all. Sorry I don't have that time period. I forgot what he told me. Maybe 15-20 minutes? Less than 30 for sure. Compared to my 3 hours with the first...

Elizabeth told Mark that once the head came out, he was to let him remain face down and wait for the rest of the body. But we were in for a surprise... Ev's head came out and was facing up! Dadgum posterior babies! I'd had another! He started the labor with his spine to my left, and we expected him to rotate forward, but instead he rotated back. This explains why once I got in the pool, I was having a little more difficulty relaxing through some of the contractions. Some that came were almost impossible to relax through because they were making my back hurt (but not nearly as badly as the first time).

I do have a picture of his head being born, but it's not quite G-rated enough for Mark and I to be comfortable posting it online. :) But it is fascinating.

My water had still not broken when his head was birthed. Which is awesome to me because I remember having a dream where he was born in the sac of water. I was so excited about having had a dream that had partially come true. (Only partially though because it broke as his shoulders came out.)

Mark tells me that they all got a laugh from when I decided to take a break once his head was out. In my memory, I was thinking oh good, his head is out, that means we really are at the end. I'll just relax and wait patiently for the next contraction to bring him all the way. But instead of saying that, he says I propped my arms up on the edge of the pool and said "oh good, I think i'll just stop here." And they were all thinking "uhhh, no honey, you still got a little work to do."

With the next contraction, I pushed Everett out of my body into Mark's hands, where he immediately gave him to me.

We sat in the pool a few minutes, then they helped me out and we waited for what felt like an ETERNITY for the placenta to deliver. (I hate hate hate hate hate delivering the placenta. Seriously.... Looking back on it both times, it's what I hate the most.) Everett caught right on to nursing, then we hung out on the couch for a bit and Elizabeth examined Everett and me. Everything looked great. At one point I looked up and there were multiple people drinking coffee just hanging out while we all enjoyed the euphoria of new life.

I got a shower immediately after and then they put me to bed while they cleaned up. I have one specific memory after I went to bed of Elizabeth coming in to our room, sitting on the edge of the bed just chatting with me. Such a special memory.

Elizabeth, Jenn, and Chanelle cleaned up completely (including stating a load of laundry), and let themselves out all after Mark, Everett, and I had gone to bed (Roscoe had already gone back to bed).

Everett Leon Grant, born right on his due date (imagine that). 5 am February 3rd. 9 lbs 6 oz, 22.5 inches.