For those of you who are uncomfortable with childbirth narratives, you can just skip this post and enjoy the pictures in the next one. For those of you who love a good labor tale, buckle up - 'cause I like to tell a good story. Warning: it's absurdly long and detailed, but I wanted to write everything down while it was fresh in my mind. You know - so that thirteen years from now when Abigail gives me grief, I can remind her about the day she came into the world.
I guess the birth story really starts about three weeks ago (the Tuesday - Thursday before Christmas) when I had fairly intense contractions over the space of three days.
It was uncomfortable enough that I couldn't sleep, but they never increased in length and intensity or got closer together.
I was extremely frustrated when, after three days of no sleep and no progress, everything seemed to stop.
I was 39 weeks pregnant at this point and expected to have my baby any day. Ha! I still had a long wait ahead of me....
Fast forward to Wednesday, Jan 5th...six friends of mine (including my sister) who were all due after me, have all had their babies. I had convinced myself that labor would NEVER happen spontaneously and that I was going to hit the dreaded 42 week mark with no baby and a slim chance of a VBAC attempt. I decided to throw myself a pity party, which Kenta refused to attend with me (smart guy). Three hours after I cried myself to sleep, I woke up with my first REAL contraction (1 am on Thursday, Jan 6th). I pretty much couldn't believe that I was actually in labor.
I spent the next three hours timing contractions. I called my midwife to let her know that things were happening and she told me to just hang tight at home and that I still had a long way to go. I knew I would be seeing her in a few hours anyway, as I actually had my weekly appointment scheduled for that day at noon. I secretly hoped that when I went to my appointment, that labor would have progressed enough that I could just stay at the birth center. We weren't really sure how long labor would last, so we decided to go ahead pack up the boy and send him off to play with his buddies for the day - and possibly - overnight. Here's his last picture as an "only" :
Our last photo as a family of three:
Around 10:00 am, I noticed that the contractions seem to drop off in intensity when I would lie down, so I forced myself to move around to keep things going. Silly me. At my appointment, my midwife explained to me that during the day, our body's natural circadian rhythm slows down, so contractions will often time lull and then pick back up around late afternoon or evening. I wanted to kick myself for not having rested, so I vowed to try and go home and rest before things picked back up. At this point, I was thinking I would probably have the baby in the wee hours of the morning.
I tried to nap between contractions from about 1:30-3:00. Yeah, right. Have you ever peacefully slumbered when every five minutes you had 45 seconds of searing back pain? Needless to say, it was not very restful. Between 3:00 - 4:00, it became unbearable to lie down. I took a bath, hung out on the birthing ball, walked around - basically I tried everything I could to get comfortable. The pain in my lower back was super intense. Kenta tried to rub it during contractions, but that was no longer helping. The only relief I could get was the warm water in the bathtub. Unfortunately, the tub was too narrow and too shallow to give me the relief I needed and the side of the tub was cooooold when I leaned up against it. I needed something warm on my back. I dreamt of a heating pad that existed in someone else's house (not my own) and vowed to purchase one as soon as possible for future labor usage.
About this time the contractions got strong enough that I had to yell. Loudly. We live in an apartment building, and I didn't want to scare my neighbors, so I tried to hold it in as best as I could. Kenta was awesome. Every contraction, I wrapped my arms around his neck and yelled into his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what he needed to do to help me, but just standing there, letting me hang on him was THE BEST thing he could have done for me. Kenta gets an A+ for his birth partner skillz. Plus, he told me that my breath smelled bad, and I should probably brush my teeth before we headed to the birth center. I was grateful for his honesty.
By this time, the contractions had intensified and gotten closer together, but hadn't consistently been hitting the 1 minute mark. We called the midwife a little after 5:00 pm and I begged her to let me come sit in the birthing tub and scream to my heart's content, even though I wasn't *quite* "4-1-1" (contractions four minutes apart, lasting for a minute for at least one hour). She happily consented. At this point, I cursed myself for living so far away from the birth center (only a 1/2 hr, but it seems like an eternity when you are in the throes of labor). I made another promise to myself - next time we are staying at HOME and the midwives are coming to US. Plus it was cold outside and I had to get dressed. Modesty was pretty much the last thing from my mind, but I didn't want to get arrested for public indecency. I broke every rule of fashion as I yanked on the closest clothing items near me. Of course I needed a photograph to document the ridiculosity:
Capris with socks AND crocs? And don't forget the hand-me-down Norman High School swim team hoodie, circa 1993. Yikes. Kenta laughed at me. I told him to shut up (don't mess with a laboring woman - 'nuff said).
The drive to the birth center was every bit as dreadful as I expected. We hit every red light and my contractions peaked as soon as Kenta accelerated and joltingly shifted gears. I didn't care if other people at the red lights could hear me yell - I did it anyway because it felt good and seemed to help. We arrived at the birth center a little after 6:00 pm. I heard another woman laboring in the other birth room across the hall from where our room was. It's pretty rare to have two people in the center at once and our arrival was the third of the day. Three babies in 12 hours - a new record! I was happy to be a part of such an eventful day.
As soon as we got in the room, I happily hopped in the tub. Kenta pulled up a chair (actually, it was a birthing ball, I think) next to it, and we continued the pattern of "grab, wrap, scream" (grabbing his shirt, wrapping my arms around him and screaming - you won't find it in the Bradley book, but hey - it worked for me). This lasted for about an hour. Then I had a contraction that was like NOTHING else I had felt. I lost all control of my limbs and nearly pulled Kenta into the tub with me. I created a massive tidal wave that soaked him and knocked my Gatorade on the ground. It felt like something had broken inside of me and I let out a sound that I did not know I could make. It got the midwife's attention because she scampered in from the other room (where the other mom was about to deliver) and asked me, "are you pushing?". Uhhhh. What the heck does pushing feel like? I looked at her and said "I have no idea. How the heck will I know if I am?" Ha! I soon found out what pushing is all about.
We determined during the next contraction that I was, in fact, ready to push. It was about 7:00 pm. I had no idea how to work with my body during the contractions and all I could think of is all those crazy testimonials that I had read in birthing books about how "pushing is fun!" and "it was the easiest part!" and "my baby came out in one push!". I wanted to kill those women, but I did not know them, and besides, I still needed to figure out how to get the baby out the rest of the way. I heard the baby being born across the hall and I was so happy for the new parents. I did feel very badly for their little baby that had to listen to me scream for the next hour (what a traumatic way to begin life) but the sounds erupting from my throat were pretty much beyond my control at that point. In between contractions, I was completely rational being, but once I felt a contraction coming on, it was like I was transformed into some wild animal. My friend, Suzanne describes childbirth as "primal". I could not agree more.
Anyway, back to pushing. The midwife and her assistant were both super helpful. They helped me figure out which muscles I need to be concentrating on and helped encourage me. Kenta was rock-solid, as always, telling me how great I was doing and forcing me to take sips of water. The only time I got mad at him was when he was patting my arms and I snapped, "Rub! Don't pat!!"
At this point, I broke my first "I'll never...." promise: I used the mirror. I was so not into the mirror thing before I went into labor. But man, that little mirror was quite useful. Yes, it was depressing to see the head emerge, then disappear, but it was encouraging all the same to know the baby was SO CLOSE. The assistant then gave me a little bit of coaching that helped speed things along even more. She suggested that instead of throwing my head back and yelling out during contractions, that I instead tuck my chin to my chest and keep the energy in. Holy cow. I wish that had been explained to me an hour earlier. After that nifty trick, I felt like I was really making progress. All of a sudden, the head came out and the baby was out, and then it was all over!
I held the baby in my arms and repeated, "Wow. It's over. I can't believe it's over!". Then I remembered that we still didn't know if it's a boy or a girl, so I lifted up the baby and Kenta declared "it's a boy!" and I said, "You dope. That's the umbilical cord. It's a girl" (totally kidding - I didn't call him a dope, but I did make fun of him). And she was so quiet. She just blinked her eyes and looked around. Abigail Hiromi was born Jan. 6, 2011 at 8:24 pm, weighing a respectable 9 lbs and measuring 22 " long. I guess she needed to cook an extra week to out-size big brother (he was 9 lbs, 21.7"). I feel like I can really "own" the fact that I've had a 9 lb. baby now. She is so chubby and awesome.
Oh. And the other "I'll never...." promises? I touched the placenta. Gross, right? It was actually pretty cool to see what had been sustaining little Abigail for the past nine months of life. Kenta broke an "I'll never..." promise, too: he cut the umbilical cord. Props to him for stepping WAY out of his comfort zone and supporting me in the ultimate of childbirth experiences. What an awesome guy I married.
Kenta asked me at one point between contractions near the end of labor if childbirth was harder than running a marathon. I answered that question with a resounding "YES!!!!!" It is WAY more intense, but far more rewarding all the same. In a marathon, you can stop and walk at any moment, or say to yourself, "This activity no longer seems awesome to me" and drop out altogether. Not childbirth. You are committed, whether you like it or not. That baby has to get out. You can't just up and quit. I'm sure there are marathon moms out there who disagree with me, but I'll take a cute baby in my arms and the recovery of childbirth ANY DAY over the bragging rights of finishing a marathon and the recovery from pounding 26.2 miles of pavement.
And did I mention how great it was to be able to have the natural birth that I longed for with Thomas? Having now experienced the two extremes of childbirth, I can say it was a beautiful thing being able to back up our bags and head home five hours after Abigail was born. I don't even think I could speak in coherent sentences five minutes after Thomas was born. Let's do a little comparison:
Holding Thomas for the first time, 30 minutes after he was born:
Holding Abigail for the first time, 30 seconds after she was born:
In which photo does it look like I've been run over by a semi? Hint: it's the one where I look stoned out of my mind. (and yes, all you observant ones - that is the same red sports bra. I will probably be retiring that soon. It's served its purpose. Twice.)
About an hour after Abigail was born, we called our friends to see how Thomas was doing. Turns out he gorged himself on applesauce and cheerios for dinner and spent THREE HOURS talking to himself in the crib when they put him down (he didn't fall asleep until 11:30!). I guess he was super excited about his little sister.
Heading home with our baby girl, about five hours after she was born (about 7.5 hours after we first arrived):
We picked Thomas up the next morning and brought him home to meet baby sister. He was so cute with her. He pointed out all her face parts ("eyes!", "mouth!", "nose!") and wanted to hug and kiss her. He frequently asks to "hold it?" and hold out his arms for us to put her in. We couldn't be more pleased with how he has transitioned to big brotherhood.
It's nice to know that Abigail has big brother's stamp of approval:
Seriously. We couldn't get him to pose that way again if we tried. I'm pretty sure even a bribe of applesauce and cheerios couldn't do it.
A tremendous thanks to all the midwives/assistants/staff at the
Birth Cottage (I forgot to take a picture of our birth team! That will come shortly). They gave us the support, encouragement, and peace of mind that we needed to have such a beautiful birth experience. Seriously, I'm tearing up writing this. They helped create such a beautiful, safe, and loving environment for our little Abigail to be born in. When I think back to when our journey towards a VBAC began (almost two years ago when Thomas's breech status was obviously not going to change and a c-section was imminent), I am so grateful that our paths crossed with these outstanding women. I knew I would need extra encouragement because of the perceived risk factor of a VBAC, and they provided above and beyond what we needed in terms of information and support. Thanks to all of them from our little family!!
