Full story, moderatly edited....
Noah Gayle Nicholson born March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, 2007. 6 lbs 14 oz, 19 ¼” long. 7 hours labor start to finish, 40.3 weeks gestation.
Shorter version than my usual long windedness:
I woke up with labor contractions at about 1:45 in the morning, laid in bed through about 5 contractions before rubbing Brian’s shoulder and whispering “These contractions are a little more than the usual ones.” I heard a skeptic “uh huh” and a readjustment of his pillow. I’d had weak and inconsequential 3-5 minute Braxton hicks marathons for the last three weeks.
Contractions started at about 3-5 minutes apart and were pretty much as intense as they would be for the first three hours. No walking, no talking …better be prepared for it before it starts or so help me god. There was really no full relaxation through the contractions either like the Bradley method read, it was kind of modified for me, such as deciding what part of me I wanted to relax through this one. About two hours into it, Brian got up and realized that maybe I really was in labor and that he should pack the car. The last hour the contractions when up a notch, and when I hurled (relieving), I decided it was time to go. Time flew, it didn’t feel like three hours, I was slow to leave my comfortable dark home for the bright lights of the hospital. Surprisingly, my labor position of choice, having tried “all” of them, was half way on my side pressing my belly into the cold hard wood floor and grandma’s thick knit blanket doubled over my back…oh it was good.
The hospital nurse was sweet, I contracted and hurled a second time as soon as we got into triage. She said she would admit us without further question, and I asked for a room with a window to the outside. …the things we find important when in labor.
I got the agreed to IV port, but no IVs in the room. I was 6 cm on admittance, having walked around 4 cm for three weeks, and had been 100% effaced for a week. They let us be. I was initially concerned that I wouldn’t be able to eat during labor, and 12 hours without food would stink. I was content with ice chips, and the ice chips were good. I recall one nurse, and on her behalf maybe she wasn’t used to undedicated births, kept asking me on the onset of my contractions “are you okay?” I was able to see the humor and in my mind answer with a sarcastic “yes, of course…”
After a seemingly very short amount of time, my contractions worsened. My zero in between each was redefined. My husband said that they lessened to about every 7 minutes but that they would last for about 3 minutes, and I stayed very uncomfortable in between. I shook terribly, although the shaking really kept my muscles loosened. Again I hurled (relieving), and after probably 3 of these non-retracting contractions decided that I would not be able to do this drug free for the next 8 hours. I asked for the epidural. In hindsight I should have asked just to be checked. The nurse came in and checked my progress, I was 8 cm and said I probably wouldn’t have the time. I gleefully withdrew my request. She said she’d give the OB a call to come in. My water had not broken. Before the nurse had a chance to return to her station, I had Brian buzz her again, “I think I just pushed through that last contraction.” How relieving it felt.
I labored on my right side for all except the last three when they had me switch to my back. From when we summoned the nurse the last time and from when the room started getting transformed was probably 20 minutes. I wasn’t able to relax my body, but I was able to relax my bottom and feel “open”. I recall the feeling of when I knew he had entered the birth canal. I don’t know how I knew. I recall the feeling and telling Brian that I think he was going to crown soon. Pushing was a relieving process. Like a light switch I went from discouraging transitional contractions to proactive down-and-out see-my-baby-soon contractions. I could tell my husband’s excitement rose. I lightly held his hand through every push (he said I wasn’t squeezing too hard, though I had flashes of Hollywood of bone crushing mamas with husband’s hand in hand). I had to have his hand in mine.
Pushing was primal. I felt like a beast on her side under the shade of a tree, legs flinching with the outstanding power of her body pushing the baby into the world. I am still awestruck by the power my abdomen, far beyond purposeful muscle power, to contract and direct this little being. Awestruck just isn’t the word.
The OB showed up three contractions from birth. My water hadn’t broken, he was just about crowing, she broke it. I didn’t care that they switched me to my back the last few contractions, my mind was focused within myself, they could have hung me upside down and that baby was coming. The second to last contraction, he was out past his brow and my contraction diminished. I couldn’t push. I was rather uncomfortable with his position, but the last contraction came quickly and in no time he was out and on my belly. Crying, arms and legs outstretched. I tore at the snaps on my gown while my husband cut the cord and he was put on my chest. I won’t try to describe that first feeling of motherhood…that will just have to be shared by assumption between mothers, and for new mom’s to experience on their own. There are no words sufficient for the describing.
We’d asked for an hour post birth to be alone in our birth plan, his agpar was 9/9 and the request was quickly followed. The nurses returned an hour and half later, and I had to stop myself from reminding that we wanted an hour and to please leave us be. That over-hour of gazing into one another’s eyes had flown by.
His feet. I recognize the movements of his feet most.
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