Biruk was born May 5, so he was 42 weeks and 1 day gestated. 
I posted a couple of times about the harrassment from our midwives backup doctor and the things she was telling me: that he was over 11 lb, that I could tear from stem to stern, that he'd get stuck and die, that he could flip breech, and on and on.
Below is what really happened. And I only needed 1 stitch.
It’s hard to say when labor started. I started having contractions on and off at 39 weeks and spent the rest of this pregnancy thinking “This is it!” every single day. Friday, the 4th of May I was almost certain we would be in the hospital by evening, but once again the contractions died down. However, sometime in the wee hours of the morning on Saturday, I woke up moaning and groaning and not quite realizing why. It soon became clear though, when the next contraction hit. Having had so many false starts, Josiah and I were somewhat in denial, and didn’t make any phone calls until I told him he’d probably better stay home from work that day. So I labored for several hours in our nice, quiet house with my wonderfully encouraging husband, and I understand better now why so many women really, really like homebirthing! It was very sweet to labor without being pestered with monitors and checks and pokes and prods, and just be able to hold on to my husband and let him comfort me.
We had called my mother and sister to come stay with the boys, but when I started puking, Josiah decided we’d better get them up and head for the hospital. He had also very astutely noticed that I was sounding a little different and wasn’t managing to “breathe through” anything by that point. By the time the boys were awake and dressed though, the relatives had arrived and so we were able to leave them at home after all. {My sister Elizabeth reports that as we were leaving Gebreyesus said “Uh-oh! Baby fall out!” Do I have smart kids, or what?}
By that time things were getting really heavy and I was starting to feel a little bit pushy. It took a lot of convincing to get me into the car (If the neighbors heard me tearfully protesting “Josiah, please don’t make me get in the car!” I wonder what they thought!), but I finally agreed, but only if I could go kneeling and facing backwards-there was no way I could get through those contractions sitting like a lady and buckled in! Josiah drove us very calmly to the hospital, and also managed to remind me (not so calmly!) with every contraction “Breathe! Breathe! Don’t push!”. So, I roared my way through the car ride, down the hospital hall, up the elevator, and into labor and delivery, where the midwife met us and informed me that I could push if I felt like it. That was sure a relief! My waters broke as soon as I started pushing in earnest. I can’t say pushing felt very good, but since I knew it meant it would all be over soon, I pushed with all my might. And I felt every inch of that baby’s movement down the birth canal, too. After he crowned, I remember the midwife did ask me to stop pushing a minute, but I couldn’t and I heard an “Oohhh-kaaay” from her, and then he was out! Hooray!
They gave Biruk to me all goopy and messy and he was so sweet. He promptly pooped all over me, too. For a baby so late, he didn’t show any of the signs of being “overbaked”, except for having very long fingernails. He was still covered in all that great cheesy vernix and the waters had been totally clear when they broke. Biruk weighed in at 10 lb 8 oz and was 23 inches long, so he really was a great big baby. This time my recovery has been wonderfully easy. We all were a little more tired than we’d thought, so we spent the afternoon sleeping in the recovery room (and I ate everything they would give me!). The older boys came in briefly to meet the baby and get hugs and kisses, and then went home again. By evening time we were ready to go home. And my family was about ready to keel over after a day with Asrat and Gebreyesus, so that worked out perfectly.
I posted a couple of times about the harrassment from our midwives backup doctor and the things she was telling me: that he was over 11 lb, that I could tear from stem to stern, that he'd get stuck and die, that he could flip breech, and on and on.Below is what really happened. And I only needed 1 stitch.
It’s hard to say when labor started. I started having contractions on and off at 39 weeks and spent the rest of this pregnancy thinking “This is it!” every single day. Friday, the 4th of May I was almost certain we would be in the hospital by evening, but once again the contractions died down. However, sometime in the wee hours of the morning on Saturday, I woke up moaning and groaning and not quite realizing why. It soon became clear though, when the next contraction hit. Having had so many false starts, Josiah and I were somewhat in denial, and didn’t make any phone calls until I told him he’d probably better stay home from work that day. So I labored for several hours in our nice, quiet house with my wonderfully encouraging husband, and I understand better now why so many women really, really like homebirthing! It was very sweet to labor without being pestered with monitors and checks and pokes and prods, and just be able to hold on to my husband and let him comfort me.
We had called my mother and sister to come stay with the boys, but when I started puking, Josiah decided we’d better get them up and head for the hospital. He had also very astutely noticed that I was sounding a little different and wasn’t managing to “breathe through” anything by that point. By the time the boys were awake and dressed though, the relatives had arrived and so we were able to leave them at home after all. {My sister Elizabeth reports that as we were leaving Gebreyesus said “Uh-oh! Baby fall out!” Do I have smart kids, or what?}
By that time things were getting really heavy and I was starting to feel a little bit pushy. It took a lot of convincing to get me into the car (If the neighbors heard me tearfully protesting “Josiah, please don’t make me get in the car!” I wonder what they thought!), but I finally agreed, but only if I could go kneeling and facing backwards-there was no way I could get through those contractions sitting like a lady and buckled in! Josiah drove us very calmly to the hospital, and also managed to remind me (not so calmly!) with every contraction “Breathe! Breathe! Don’t push!”. So, I roared my way through the car ride, down the hospital hall, up the elevator, and into labor and delivery, where the midwife met us and informed me that I could push if I felt like it. That was sure a relief! My waters broke as soon as I started pushing in earnest. I can’t say pushing felt very good, but since I knew it meant it would all be over soon, I pushed with all my might. And I felt every inch of that baby’s movement down the birth canal, too. After he crowned, I remember the midwife did ask me to stop pushing a minute, but I couldn’t and I heard an “Oohhh-kaaay” from her, and then he was out! Hooray!
They gave Biruk to me all goopy and messy and he was so sweet. He promptly pooped all over me, too. For a baby so late, he didn’t show any of the signs of being “overbaked”, except for having very long fingernails. He was still covered in all that great cheesy vernix and the waters had been totally clear when they broke. Biruk weighed in at 10 lb 8 oz and was 23 inches long, so he really was a great big baby. This time my recovery has been wonderfully easy. We all were a little more tired than we’d thought, so we spent the afternoon sleeping in the recovery room (and I ate everything they would give me!). The older boys came in briefly to meet the baby and get hugs and kisses, and then went home again. By evening time we were ready to go home. And my family was about ready to keel over after a day with Asrat and Gebreyesus, so that worked out perfectly.
