I started to lose my cervical plug on Saturday morning. At 2:45 in the morning Sunday, contractions woke me up. Dh had downloaded a labor monitor to one of his electronic gadgets, but in order to get to it I had to get to where it was plugged in on his nightstand, which involved either climbing over him or squeezing into the space at the end of the bed. I chose the latter, but it didn't work too well because his feet were hanging off the edge and I had to move them in order to get by. So, I woke him up. But he went right back to sleep when I told him to.
I moved to the sofa so he could sleep better (I figured I would need him to be alert later). The contractions came every ten minutes for the rest of the night, but they were pretty mild and I slept between them. When DD1 woke up at dawn, the contractions slowed down. I called the midwife and our friends anyway and our friends came and took DD1 to church and to their house afterwards.
That gave Dh and me the whole day to hang out together, since by that point the contractions were coming only once an hour. I sent Dh to his mother's house for a couple of hours in the middle of the afternoon, but even so, we had more time alone together than we'd had in recent memory. It was wonderful; we still really like each other. I felt guilty leaving DD1 for so long when there was no real reason we couldn't take care of her, but the one time I called to check, she made it pretty clear to me that she had no intention of coming home until there was a baby! So I felt better.
Both of the midwives who were supposed to be attending me live an hour and a half away, so Melissa, the midwife who lives closest, offered to meet me at her office at 6:30 in the evening to check me. She said I was four centimeters dilated and 80% effaced but that the baby was still floating way high. She said she thought as soon as the baby's head touched my cervix, I would progress rapidly. Meanwhile, she called one of the attending midwives to come to our house.
Dh and I got takeout Mexican food. Anissa showed up a little while after we finished eating, and I timed contractions, but other than that we sat and chatted like it was a party. I sat on the birth ball (I tried the birth stool first but didn't like it) while we were talking, which seemed to speed things up a little, not much.
At 10:30, when I would normally be going to bed, something changed. I was brushing my teeth when I started shivering and shaking uncontrollably and my teeth started chattering, even though I wasn't cold. Almost immediately I started having really intense contractions. Anissa called Grace to come. Grace arrived at midnight.
This labor was paradoxical. There was first the aforementioned uncontrollable shivering, even when I was actually hot. I wanted to be in the bathtub for buoyancy and warmth, but I wanted to be dry. I wanted to stand up during contractions so the baby could move down my pelvis, but I wanted to go limp so I could relax. Dh was a phenomenal birth partner. I have been in love with him for eight, going on nine years, but there was just nothing like sitting with him as back support while I hung my legs over the birth ball, or kneeling facing him grabbing his belt loops for balance. He did all of my breathing with me. We breathed in and out deeply during each contraction, but eventually it got to where exhaling was too painful, so I started vocalizing instead. The midwives (who were also very comforting and soothing and encouraging) said I was doing great and to vocalize in low-pitched tones rather than high-pitched tones. This resulted in a lot of very loud yelling for a long time, with Dh holding me and breathing with me.
I remember saying "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this" and being told "It's almost over." This was a lie. It wasn't almost over. There wasn't a comfortable position to get into and finally Grace encouraged me to do the next best thing and lie on the bed with Dh holding my right leg. This didn't help during contractions, but it allowed me to rest between them. Eventually I pushed everyone away and stood up. Someone had put a dining room chair on the bedroom floor. I grabbed the back of it and started swaying. On the floor I could see a bulb syringe, which was a comforting sight, some kind of evidence that there would indeed be a baby outside of my body.
I recognized the urge to push when I felt it, but they told me I was not quite dilated enough, although they (and also Melissa when she checked me earlier) were highly praising of my wonderful cervix. I guess I will take compliments where I can get them! I was sure at this point that the baby was going to be born in the caul, because my water had not yet broken, but presently I had a huge contraction and it splattered over the absorbent pads and drop cloth someone had put down on the floor. Grace kept saying how nice and clear the fluid was. I felt the urge to push again and started bearing down and yelling even louder. Eventually they helped me into a hands-and-knees position on the floor. I started yelling, "It's coming! I'm not kidding!!" and screaming at them to support my perineum, which they did. After a few more contractions I felt the "ring of fire" I had heard about. Then came another paradox: the overwhelming urge to push the baby out of my body countered by the equally overwhelming urge to just stop right there, knowing it was going to hurt.
I tried to push slowly, coached by Anissa, who finally told me, "One more push and you'll have a baby." Dh was all excited because he could see dark hair, which was encouraging. So at 3:45 A.M. Monday, I pushed, and I felt the pressure releasing, and then I was yelling "Oh my gosh!" over and over again and they were sitting me on a pad on the floor and putting the baby in my arms, still connected to me by a long, twisty umbilical cord. It had been around the baby's neck, but Anissa was able to unloop it without any trouble. Dh made a family joke, "It's a squirrel!" instead of "It's a girl" (his own father, at Dh's birth, expecting a girl but finding a boy, had exclaimed "It's a gerbil!").
The midwives asked me what I wanted to do. I said, As soon as the cord stops pulsing, cut it and give the baby to Dh. Anissa clamped the cord and Dh cut it with the same scissors his parents had used to cut his cord (boiled, of course). They gave her to him. I was still sitting on the pad with the rest of the cord hanging out of me. As they were easing me up to the bed, I cried, "I still have to deliver the placenta!" and Anissa quipped, "Yes, but the placenta doesn't have bones."
Fortunately, the placenta came out quickly and painlessly, along with a lot of blood. They were worried about the blood and kept pressing down on my uterus and making more blood come out. They gave me a choice between a pitocin injection or a pill to stop the bleeding, and I chose the pill. Grace had been trying to get me to drink water and eat yogurt all through the labor, but I had taken only a little, not wanting to deal with my digestive system, and already being embarrassed that I was losing bladder control during contractions, even though I knew they had seen worse. Now I let her give me more water and yogurt. She asked if I needed to go the bathroom and at first I said no, because I had forgotten how you lose most of your bladder sensation after birth. Then I realized I did have to go. They told Dh to help me, because I had lost a lot of blood--Anissa even pulled him aside and told him I really had lost an abnormal amount of blood and he needed to watch me carefully.
I went to the bathroom, then as I was standing up, the midwives cautioned me not to go too fast because I might pass out. I realized they were right. The last thing I remember was hugging Dh tightly around the neck while chanting "Pass out, pass out, pass out." Then it seemed like I slept for a really long time and all I could hear was white noise. Then I heard Grace calling my name, opened my eyes and saw her crouched down on the floor at eye level with me. My first thought was, "Oh no, I have to give birth again!" Then they told me I had passed out, and I thought, "Wow, this is just like Survivor!" I wasn't hurt at all; Dh must have caught me and let me down gently. Grace told Dh to bring me a glass of orange juice, which he did. I drank it and recovered mentally pretty quickly but still couldn't walk or even get on my hands and knees, so I crawled on my stomach to the bed and then the three of them pulled me up on to it.
I was still bleeding, so Grace gave me an injection of pitocin in my leg after all, and they massaged my uterus some more. They told Dh not to let me go to the bathroom alone, and told me that if I absolutely had to go without him, I should crawl instead of walking.
Then the midwives went in the living room, and I got to nurse the babythe baby. Fortunately, I remembered how to get her latched on with no help, and she did great on the left side, lying down. Then there was a lot of paperwork to fill out (although not as much as there would have been in the hospital). The midwives left about four hours after the baby was born, after it was light outside.
Dh and the the baby and I slept, sort of; and after lunch, Dh went to pick DD1 up from school so we could start our family life together. Rachel, the midwife who specializes in "repair jobs," came over in the afternoon to stitch up my tear and help us take the baby's vital signs.
I can't get over how different this labor was from the last one. With DD1, I started having contractions, they gradually got more intense, the water broke, they got much more intense, then several hours later I pushed her out. None of this "twenty hours of irregularity followed by five hours on a speeding freight train" business I had with this baby. Also, DD1's labor was much less painful, I think because with her, the most comfortable position both during and between contractions was lying down, so I was able to go limp, which offset any tension that would have caused pain. With this baby I had to be standing or squatting through contractions, which was tiring, and then I had a hard time resting between them. On the other hand, DD1 was breech, which meant pushing her out as fast as I could, first her bottom, then her torso and legs at the same time, then her head, all in one huge push. Oddly, it didn't hurt much at the time, but it resulted in a severe tear. With this baby I was able to push more slowly and with support. It hurt more and I tore anyway, but the tear was a lot less severe. I don't foresee a six-month recovery period this time.
I am, however, exhausted and the afterpains are pretty bad and I'm only allowed 400 milligrams of ibuprofen every four hours (I miss the hospital painkillers) and I'm still afraid to stand or walk very much because I feel like I might pass out again. That leaves Dh to do all of the housework and all of the child care other than nursing. DD1 loves her baby sister but is a little overly enthusiastic about showing it. I am hoping to get some rest while DD1 is in school, but I'm not sleeping very well. What I really want is a good night's sleep and to be in no discomfort whatsoever. Someday this will happen, and I will be very grateful!
I moved to the sofa so he could sleep better (I figured I would need him to be alert later). The contractions came every ten minutes for the rest of the night, but they were pretty mild and I slept between them. When DD1 woke up at dawn, the contractions slowed down. I called the midwife and our friends anyway and our friends came and took DD1 to church and to their house afterwards.
That gave Dh and me the whole day to hang out together, since by that point the contractions were coming only once an hour. I sent Dh to his mother's house for a couple of hours in the middle of the afternoon, but even so, we had more time alone together than we'd had in recent memory. It was wonderful; we still really like each other. I felt guilty leaving DD1 for so long when there was no real reason we couldn't take care of her, but the one time I called to check, she made it pretty clear to me that she had no intention of coming home until there was a baby! So I felt better.
Both of the midwives who were supposed to be attending me live an hour and a half away, so Melissa, the midwife who lives closest, offered to meet me at her office at 6:30 in the evening to check me. She said I was four centimeters dilated and 80% effaced but that the baby was still floating way high. She said she thought as soon as the baby's head touched my cervix, I would progress rapidly. Meanwhile, she called one of the attending midwives to come to our house.
Dh and I got takeout Mexican food. Anissa showed up a little while after we finished eating, and I timed contractions, but other than that we sat and chatted like it was a party. I sat on the birth ball (I tried the birth stool first but didn't like it) while we were talking, which seemed to speed things up a little, not much.
At 10:30, when I would normally be going to bed, something changed. I was brushing my teeth when I started shivering and shaking uncontrollably and my teeth started chattering, even though I wasn't cold. Almost immediately I started having really intense contractions. Anissa called Grace to come. Grace arrived at midnight.
This labor was paradoxical. There was first the aforementioned uncontrollable shivering, even when I was actually hot. I wanted to be in the bathtub for buoyancy and warmth, but I wanted to be dry. I wanted to stand up during contractions so the baby could move down my pelvis, but I wanted to go limp so I could relax. Dh was a phenomenal birth partner. I have been in love with him for eight, going on nine years, but there was just nothing like sitting with him as back support while I hung my legs over the birth ball, or kneeling facing him grabbing his belt loops for balance. He did all of my breathing with me. We breathed in and out deeply during each contraction, but eventually it got to where exhaling was too painful, so I started vocalizing instead. The midwives (who were also very comforting and soothing and encouraging) said I was doing great and to vocalize in low-pitched tones rather than high-pitched tones. This resulted in a lot of very loud yelling for a long time, with Dh holding me and breathing with me.
I remember saying "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this" and being told "It's almost over." This was a lie. It wasn't almost over. There wasn't a comfortable position to get into and finally Grace encouraged me to do the next best thing and lie on the bed with Dh holding my right leg. This didn't help during contractions, but it allowed me to rest between them. Eventually I pushed everyone away and stood up. Someone had put a dining room chair on the bedroom floor. I grabbed the back of it and started swaying. On the floor I could see a bulb syringe, which was a comforting sight, some kind of evidence that there would indeed be a baby outside of my body.
I recognized the urge to push when I felt it, but they told me I was not quite dilated enough, although they (and also Melissa when she checked me earlier) were highly praising of my wonderful cervix. I guess I will take compliments where I can get them! I was sure at this point that the baby was going to be born in the caul, because my water had not yet broken, but presently I had a huge contraction and it splattered over the absorbent pads and drop cloth someone had put down on the floor. Grace kept saying how nice and clear the fluid was. I felt the urge to push again and started bearing down and yelling even louder. Eventually they helped me into a hands-and-knees position on the floor. I started yelling, "It's coming! I'm not kidding!!" and screaming at them to support my perineum, which they did. After a few more contractions I felt the "ring of fire" I had heard about. Then came another paradox: the overwhelming urge to push the baby out of my body countered by the equally overwhelming urge to just stop right there, knowing it was going to hurt.
I tried to push slowly, coached by Anissa, who finally told me, "One more push and you'll have a baby." Dh was all excited because he could see dark hair, which was encouraging. So at 3:45 A.M. Monday, I pushed, and I felt the pressure releasing, and then I was yelling "Oh my gosh!" over and over again and they were sitting me on a pad on the floor and putting the baby in my arms, still connected to me by a long, twisty umbilical cord. It had been around the baby's neck, but Anissa was able to unloop it without any trouble. Dh made a family joke, "It's a squirrel!" instead of "It's a girl" (his own father, at Dh's birth, expecting a girl but finding a boy, had exclaimed "It's a gerbil!").
The midwives asked me what I wanted to do. I said, As soon as the cord stops pulsing, cut it and give the baby to Dh. Anissa clamped the cord and Dh cut it with the same scissors his parents had used to cut his cord (boiled, of course). They gave her to him. I was still sitting on the pad with the rest of the cord hanging out of me. As they were easing me up to the bed, I cried, "I still have to deliver the placenta!" and Anissa quipped, "Yes, but the placenta doesn't have bones."
Fortunately, the placenta came out quickly and painlessly, along with a lot of blood. They were worried about the blood and kept pressing down on my uterus and making more blood come out. They gave me a choice between a pitocin injection or a pill to stop the bleeding, and I chose the pill. Grace had been trying to get me to drink water and eat yogurt all through the labor, but I had taken only a little, not wanting to deal with my digestive system, and already being embarrassed that I was losing bladder control during contractions, even though I knew they had seen worse. Now I let her give me more water and yogurt. She asked if I needed to go the bathroom and at first I said no, because I had forgotten how you lose most of your bladder sensation after birth. Then I realized I did have to go. They told Dh to help me, because I had lost a lot of blood--Anissa even pulled him aside and told him I really had lost an abnormal amount of blood and he needed to watch me carefully.
I went to the bathroom, then as I was standing up, the midwives cautioned me not to go too fast because I might pass out. I realized they were right. The last thing I remember was hugging Dh tightly around the neck while chanting "Pass out, pass out, pass out." Then it seemed like I slept for a really long time and all I could hear was white noise. Then I heard Grace calling my name, opened my eyes and saw her crouched down on the floor at eye level with me. My first thought was, "Oh no, I have to give birth again!" Then they told me I had passed out, and I thought, "Wow, this is just like Survivor!" I wasn't hurt at all; Dh must have caught me and let me down gently. Grace told Dh to bring me a glass of orange juice, which he did. I drank it and recovered mentally pretty quickly but still couldn't walk or even get on my hands and knees, so I crawled on my stomach to the bed and then the three of them pulled me up on to it.
I was still bleeding, so Grace gave me an injection of pitocin in my leg after all, and they massaged my uterus some more. They told Dh not to let me go to the bathroom alone, and told me that if I absolutely had to go without him, I should crawl instead of walking.
Then the midwives went in the living room, and I got to nurse the babythe baby. Fortunately, I remembered how to get her latched on with no help, and she did great on the left side, lying down. Then there was a lot of paperwork to fill out (although not as much as there would have been in the hospital). The midwives left about four hours after the baby was born, after it was light outside.
Dh and the the baby and I slept, sort of; and after lunch, Dh went to pick DD1 up from school so we could start our family life together. Rachel, the midwife who specializes in "repair jobs," came over in the afternoon to stitch up my tear and help us take the baby's vital signs.
I can't get over how different this labor was from the last one. With DD1, I started having contractions, they gradually got more intense, the water broke, they got much more intense, then several hours later I pushed her out. None of this "twenty hours of irregularity followed by five hours on a speeding freight train" business I had with this baby. Also, DD1's labor was much less painful, I think because with her, the most comfortable position both during and between contractions was lying down, so I was able to go limp, which offset any tension that would have caused pain. With this baby I had to be standing or squatting through contractions, which was tiring, and then I had a hard time resting between them. On the other hand, DD1 was breech, which meant pushing her out as fast as I could, first her bottom, then her torso and legs at the same time, then her head, all in one huge push. Oddly, it didn't hurt much at the time, but it resulted in a severe tear. With this baby I was able to push more slowly and with support. It hurt more and I tore anyway, but the tear was a lot less severe. I don't foresee a six-month recovery period this time.
I am, however, exhausted and the afterpains are pretty bad and I'm only allowed 400 milligrams of ibuprofen every four hours (I miss the hospital painkillers) and I'm still afraid to stand or walk very much because I feel like I might pass out again. That leaves Dh to do all of the housework and all of the child care other than nursing. DD1 loves her baby sister but is a little overly enthusiastic about showing it. I am hoping to get some rest while DD1 is in school, but I'm not sleeping very well. What I really want is a good night's sleep and to be in no discomfort whatsoever. Someday this will happen, and I will be very grateful!
