MotheringDotCommunity Forums - My second birth- 'I think I was made to do this!"- pretty long**photos added!

The birth of Evangeline Diesel Rose

Once again I woke up to contractions. This was nothing new, for a week and a half I had woken up frequently this way, becoming well acquainted with the wee hours. But as I lay there at 3 am Saturday morning I could tell they were different. They started low in my pelvic floor, at the bottom of my body and squeezed and ached up and over and around my uterus, not starting at the front of my pelvis. I lay there, not getting excited, telling myself this could just be a new and improved type of contraction, just another phase of this prodromal hell I’d been experiencing for so long. As per my nighttime routine, I got up to perform the list of duties that would hopefully send them off, and allow me to go back to sleep.
I swept, I tidied, I washed the dishes, I made lists. They were not going away. They came very frequently, less than 10 minutes apart if you didn’t count the weaker ones, less than 6 minutes, sometimes 3 or 4, if you did. I wrote in my diary. I realized, ‘this was it’, this was labour, and I could get excited this time, for real.
It was Saturday morning, much was planned for the day, but it would have to be called off. I was hoping for a short labour, like my first. Until now it had seemed like it would never be ‘the real thing’. A week and a half ago-Wednesday-I had called my mom and midwife and sister, and told them I was in labour, and to come on over. Since 12 weeks I had endured frequent Braxton Hicks that increased with the pregnancy (I drank Raspberry Leaf Tea throughout to combat them), and since about 32 weeks I could feel the ‘loosenings’ of my body preparing for labour(losing mucus plug, aching, soreness in my pubic area). Even with my first baby, I could feel for a week ahead things were changing, moving, preparing for birth. That Wednesday night my contractions petered out after a few hours, leaving me surprised and confused and totally unprepared for this ‘false labour’ thing. And from then on, I experienced bouts of frequent, regular contractions that were not Braxton Hicks, sometimes waking me up and forcing me from my bed, frusterating me and testing my patience. With my son’s birth I gave birth 3 hours 45 min from my first contraction; I had been induced with a gel early in the morning which worked like a charm. The labour was fast and furious, I desperately managed contractions by forced relaxation, and was able to have an unmedicated birth after 3 hearty pushes. I was hoping to have a similar experience, minus the induction, but expecting it to take longer, and thinking it might be quicker. Two days previous I had had a little breakdown, crying and crabbing all day, depressed that so much was happening but no progress was being made. It was frustrating to feel like I was in early labour, but to know I wasn’t.
Now, as the early morning wore on and I knew ‘this was it’, I decided to call my midwife. It was 5 am, 2 hours from waking. She sounded skeptical, but I assured her we would meet her at the hospital shortly. She went ahead to prepare the room, warning me that I must be 4 centimeters before entering the labour tub there.
The first bout of false labour showed me I didn’t want to birth at home. During the whole pregnancy I was deliberating where to birth-home or hospital- and I researched homebirth extensively. However, I just didn’t feel compelled to birth at home, even though intellectually I wanted to. I had decided I would decide once in labour, that I would follow my instinct, and hopefully a clear plan would emerge during early labour. My husband was very set against homebirth; he is extremely uncomfortable with birth and very squeamish in general. We had come to an agreement that he couldn’t force me to go to the hospital, but was allowed to be mad if I decided to stay at home. However, once I had everyone there on that Wednesday, waiting for me to perform (of course, no one really thought that) I felt I had to play hostess, especially as our home rather high-maintenance. We have a strawbale off-grid home, and being at home meant watching water consumption, running a generator, maintaining a fire, and other tasks that we’re used to doing but don’t feel we can leave with other people. So on this Saturday morning, I knew I would be heading to the hospital, where I would be well taken care of by my wonderful midwife (no doctors) and I could make a mess, run the water, not worry about the housework or other people, and even get taken care of and fed after.
So I woke up my husband at 5am, who was disgruntled (duh, it had to happen sometime!) to hear he’d have to get up after my shower. The shower was nice. The contractions were strong and frequent, but I relaxed through them and really enjoyed knowing I was in labour. I was able to labour alone, the way I wanted to, privately listening to my body, understanding it and allowing it to perform. I had read (with both pregnancies) Grantley Dick Read’s ancient book ‘Childbirth Without Fear’ and really believed in his relaxation, as well as reading Ina May’s books (Guide to Childbirth) and countless others. I felt well prepared, excited and in eager anticipation of how my body would perform this awesome task. There was no fear or trepidation, I trusted my body, I trusted myself and I trusted God that He had designed me well and He made me capable.
We prepared to leave, and I called my father-in-law to watch Axel(our 2 yr old) who was still sleeping. I was happy. I chatted with Doug while Chad loaded the jeep, and when I had to pause and bend during contractions, Doug laughingly advised me to leave.
The drive was beautiful. It was 6 am, and a nice, clear bright morning. The sun was rising and I was so happy, I had wanted to labour in the night and birth in the morning. I listened to The Be Good Tanya’s ‘Human Thing’ over and over. Chad drove fast, I had to relax during contractions, but I really enjoyed seeing the morning. We went through the Tim Horton’s drive through. Chad got coffee; I got a tea with no tea bag! We drove by the lake- it was so calm, and so beautiful and I was so pleased to be up and labouring this morning! On the highway we passed a tractor-trailor, and as I had a contraction I leaned my head back and looked up, and the driver looked down at me, holding my belly. Did he realize, and wonder about me for the rest of the morning?
We arrived our small, local hospital at 6:30 am, I crouched in the empty ER waiting room, waiting for Chad. Upstairs Barb, the midwife, had everything ready and was happy to see us. She started running the tub, and had me undress to be checked. She checked me and took my vitals; I was happy to hear I was 5-6 cm and could get in that tub! The water felt wonderful, so warm and relaxing. My mom and sister arrived, and it was a happy and crowded room, I was still cheerful and excited. Chad held the hand sprayer on my lower back during contractions, which was a nice distraction, and I moved around a bit to find a comfy position, but I was most comfortable in an all four’s position, draped over the edge with my knees spread behind me. Soon I was vocalizing through contractions, moaning, trying to keep my mouth and bottom relaxed. Between them I was chatting and joking. Barb checked me a couple times with her Doppler. I slowly got more serious, focusing on the contractions, and started to get uncomfortable. My audience was quiet and reassuring, sensing the change. After a couple more difficult ones, I lost my plug in the tub. I thought this was kind of funny, big bloody globs floating around. Chad didn’t really like that, he had to sit down. Then transition hit. I whined to mom, ‘I don’t think I want to do this anymore’, thinking it was too early to be saying that, and worried because suddenly I remembered how heavy labour is. In one of Ina May’s books she described one of her births, and commented that no matter how many times you do it, or how many births you attend, it’s ‘heavy’ every time. I knew exactly what she meant at that moment. I got really restless and uncomfortable, looking for a way out, away from the feelings and mounting discomfort. I found myself feeling pushy, and yelled out about that. I got distressed, and fell right into labourland. Barb told me I had to get out of the tub, and I got mad, saying I did NOT want to do that. (I’m normally not aggressive at all). She and mom hoisted me out, insisting. I was so pissed. I couldn’t believe I was expected to walk to the delivery room when I felt totally intoxicated and my body was expelling a human. I didn’t think I’d make it, but we wrapped a blanket around my waist and we hobbled/ran to the room. I walked into the room, looked around and thought, where the hell can I birth a baby in here? I was looking for a nest. So I decided on the bed and asked what to do, Barb said to get on it however I wanted. So I climbed on the bed as a contraction started, with my head towards the foot and my butt towards the head, in a semi-kneeling/all-fours position. As the contraction peaked I shouted to my mom and threw my head around, yelling and almost crying ‘I HATE THIS PART!!’. Contractions are pretty easy, but the pushing phase for me is the closest thing to torture. My body will birth whether I participate or not, and it feels like I am birthing a train. I feel sick, out of control, and totally horrid, like I am convulsing and vomiting. I don’t feel describing labour as painful is accurate, however the pushing is the closest thing to pain for me.
I had 3 contractions. I screamed, realizing I was screaming. I couldn’t help it, my body was the twister in the Wizard of Oz. It’s just such a frigging unbelievable feeling. There was so much pressure, so much force. After the first contraction my water broke, providing immense relief for a few seconds, and blood and water all over my feet and legs(minute one). I had a few seconds of panting and drugged-like rest, then another one came. I gripped my thigh with one hand and pushed on the bed with the other, and screamed. The head crowned, it burned, singed and flamed. I screamed about that. I may have tried to not push, I was told ‘it’s crowning’. Then the head was born (minute two). It was (of course) upside down and facing backwards, and I looked between my legs and saw the head. I watched the head for what seemed like forever, all was still and quiet except for the world spinning around and me feeling calmly drunken, waiting for the next contraction. I knew it was ok to wait, there was no hurry. Then it came, and I pushed and pushed and screamed my baby out(minute 3, time: 7:25). So much relief, so much less pressure, the body just stops it’s crazy birth-effort and you’re ok, you’re whole again, you’re empty. Barb didn’t direct my pushing, it was natural and very effective. For each contraction my body involuntarily pushes and I scream, then I voluntarily push down at the end, finishing with low, satisfying grunts and gasps. It is a satisfying, like after vomiting. But it is totally out of control, unmanageable, and totally bestial. It took 3 minutes, and for days after I remembered it with some fear, like a bad dream you really don’t want to think about because it’s still scary. Barb had been at my side and had one arm behind me, and one arm between my legs. She caught the baby, set her down on the bed for a split second and scooped her up to me. I caught her and desperately clutched her to my chest. She was warm and slippery and wet, and she smelled. Everything smelled, the room was heavy with the scent of birth. I was exhausted and empowered. I cried out, ‘my baby! My baby!’ and threw my head back and cried. This was the fruit of my labour, this was the reason for my suffering, this slimy being was what I had just worked for! How amazing to hold your child immediately after birthing it, knowing at once the connection between the labour and reward. With help I leaned back and took a semi-reclined position, cradling my child, crying and wondering at what I had just experienced. She was all crunched up in my arms, and finally it occurred to me to check the sex. I lifted a leg and saw a penis from under the umbilical chord. I called out, ‘it’s a boy’, and laughed, satisfied. I knew it was a boy, I was predestined for boys, I would have a pack of them because my husband’s family was incapable of making girls. I would be the only female in our family, and my boys would be rough and beautiful. I wasn’t disappointed with a second son, even though I knew everyone had hoped for a girl.
My sister somehow checked again, not believing me. She started screaming, ‘no it’s not! No it’s not! It’s a GIRL!!!’ I was confused and incredulous, wondering at how I could make a mistake. I whispered, ‘it’s a girl??’ and it was confirmed, I was wrong, it was a girl!! I couldn’t believe it, I started to cry, and I cried and cried and kept on checking. ‘It’s a girl? It’s a girl!’ How could it have been a girl? For quite a while I cried and gazed at my girl, totally in shock. Everyone laughed and hugged and screamed and jumped up and down. My husband and I hugged and kissed, we laughed and cried. I clutched her and tried to remember her being a girl in my womb. Every time I had dreamt of having my baby, it was a girl. And weeks before I was approached in a parking lot by an attractive and interesting-looking woman, who after a short conversation, very seriously said, ‘oh, honey I KNOW you’re having a girl’ and smiled.
She didn’t even ask if we had known the sex, but was kind and asked if I wanted help with my groceries. The experience shook me up a bit, I got in my Jeep and started to cry. And she was right, and my dreams were right, and my intellect was wrong.
We took pictures, we started cleaning up, I lay with my baby girl, cradling her, waiting for her to root. Finally we had her latch to encourage the placenta, which I delievered with a good push. It was fully intact, and I was intact, no tearing, despite her coming out with a nuchal hand. I felt great. I was amazed at my energy and serenity. With my son I bled quite a bit and passed some clots, and was somewhat sick after.
It wasn’t too long, though, that I started to pass the clots. Barb massaged my uterus, pushing more out. Even more came, quite large. My bladder was filling so we decided to get up and go to the bathroom, thinking it was causing the excessive clotting. I slowly eased to the edge of the bed, and after a minute and more large clots, got up. We made it halfway down the hall when I had to stop to lean against Barb, and then suddenly I was in the woods, camping, with so many people, rushing wind, and wooden boxes. But then I was being hoisted to a wheelchair, people rushing back to the delivery room, and hoisted by my husband back onto the bed. Oxygen went in my nose, other things happened. Once I came fully ‘to’ I was encouraged to pee in a bed pan, when that didn’t work a catheter was insterted (so painful) to drain my full bladder and I had to sip juice. Now I was in that post-birth-exhausted-drugged-like state, disappointed but not surprised by the turn of events. I passed more clots, I was checked inside (more pain), my placenta was rechecked to no avail. Blood was taken and an IV inserted after countless poking(collapsed veins due to the fainting). Eventually things settled down, my bleeding slowed and I regained some strength. My body seems to ‘shock’ after birth, perhaps because of the speed with which it delivers. There’s no really explanation as to why this happens, but this was the second time. For a good two weeks I’m also very weak with little stamina, and I’m quite sore despite no tears or stitches. Eventually I was moved to a regular room, where we received family, and I rested for the day, only getting up to go to the bathroom. I stayed overnight in the hospital to recover somewhat and rest.
My baby girl was born Saturday, April 14 (2007) at 7:25 am, four and a half hours after contractions started. She weighed 8lbs, 4 oz and was 21 inches long. My son was only 6lbs, 9 oz at birth. Her birth was more relaxed, the contractions were less intense and easier to handle, but the pushing felt much more wild, and less controlled, but more natural. Overall, I am happier with this second birth, due mostly to the better care I received with the midwife, not having hypertension, and therefore not ‘requiring’ induction. However, I’m still very happy with my first birth. On day two, before leaving the hospital we named her Evangeline Diesel Rose. We didn't have 'Evangeline' as a name choice, but a couple weeks before her birth I woke up from a nap having had a very clear, short dream that I had a baby girl and her name was Evangeline. She was a champion nurser from the start- she just wanted to constantly suck. We don’t believe she actually lost any weight in the first week. Now, at six weeks she weighs 13 lbs, over 4 lbs from birth. We just love her, she is so cuddly and even tempered, not fussy and she rarely cries. I’m so thrilled I had the birth I wanted, and now I’ve had two great births. I really, really love being a mom, my children are a delight and I love having a baby again! I feel like I was made to do this.

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link to photos of birth and pregnancy:
http://s113.photobucket.com/albums/n.../baby%20belly/