Our Story
My birth story begins the day before I gave birth to my son. That Thursday, I was 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and, boy, did I feel like I was. For as positive as I had been my whole pregnancy and for as many times as I told myself and anyone who would listen that “the baby will come when the baby was ready to come,” I was certainly ready for baby to come. Society does us that great disservice by assigning a “due date.” Really there’s a five week window for baby to arrive – anytime between 37 and 42 weeks – and be considered a full-term baby. Mentally, I knew this. Emotionally – even though I tried hard to ignore it – June 2nd was the date my baby was “supposed” to come. Regardless, it was June 6th, and I didn’t feel like my baby was even close to coming. I woke up that morning, did some work (I was still working full time), and waited. I was pretty grumpy. I asked my husband if we could go to a movie for lunch at one of those movie theater + restaurant kind of places. In my head, I was thinking about all the people who advised doing those things we wouldn’t be able to do once baby was here. I didn’t realize it would literally be our last date.
(video)
We went to see the new Aladdin movie for lunch and went straight to our midwife appointment from there. I remember I was wearing one of my husband’s shirts – the v neck with dark and light blue stripes from Target. My ENTIRE pregnancy, I had never once worn one of his shirts. Occasionally, I’d wear his sweatpants or a sweatshirt, but only ever at home. I had never gone out in public wearing anything of his because I truly enjoyed dressing the bump. This should have been my first sign that something was up. I even remember having the thought of changing shirts before we left for the movie, but I was feeling so over it and in a “whatever” kind of mood. I remember eating a lot – I don’t recall exactly what we ate, but I remember we both got a meal, and then we also had chicken tenders to split. And cookies for dessert. Mama was hungry! Little did I know, my hormones were doing lots of things behind the scenes getting things ready! On the way to our appointment, I asked my husband the same thing I asked him every time we were on our way – “do you have any questions for her?” His response (that I always loved but always rolled my eyes at) was the same – “nope, just want to make sure we have healthy mom and healthy baby.”
We got to our appointment, gave our greeting hugs, and sat down on the familiar couch in our midwife’s office. I think our midwife and student midwife knew what was about to happen. I think they knew I was going into labor (though they didn’t tell me until after I gave birth that they weren’t at all surprised to get our call the following day). They asked me how I was, and I admitted I wasn’t good. I was exhausted, frustrated, and just a little tired of waiting. They said – and this is why I am SO grateful for this team – “ok, well you’re not having your baby this weekend, so call to schedule an ultrasound for Monday morning just to make sure everything is good with baby, and then we’ll get you in here that afternoon for your 41 week appointment.” And that was that. They didn’t let me sit in the sadness that my baby didn’t come at 40 weeks. They took a weight off of me and let me breathe. I knew it was ok, but hearing them say “this is normal” and make plans for that reality helped me immensely. We had a little more back and forth, but ultimately the message was “your baby is not coming, have a good weekend, and we’ll see you next week.” We heard our baby’s heartbeat one final time in the office at the end of our appointment. Baby’s heart rate was a little high because he was moving a lot. Our midwife equated it to running down the street, and my husband quipped, “or down the vagina.” I rolled my eyes and sarcastically said, “hopefully.” I was not in a good mood. I had emotionally let the “due date” take me down, and I just so desperately wanted to meet our baby, but I also wanted to honor my baby and my body by letting things take their course. I was fighting with myself.
Something different
When we got home at around 4:30 pm, we decided to relax on the couch. I was feeling a little weird, and I wanted to rest before we were supposed to go to dinner with my in-laws. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks – probably even longer without realizing it – but I noticed them feeling a little….more. They were different. They felt like period cramps rather than just tightening. I have a video of my son dancing and moving around a lot, my belly getting stretched in all directions. While I was wallowing, he was preparing. I hadn’t paid much attention to how far apart contractions were or how long they were. For some reason, I didn’t think I was going into labor even though I was four days past my guess date. After about an hour, as the contractions were getting less easy to deny, I decided to give timing a go. Well, they were about 6 minutes apart and 40 seconds long each. I was not feeling great, and I think it was around this time that my husband and I decided this could be the real thing. At about 7:30, my husband left for dinner with his parents. I wanted to go, but the contractions were getting pretty intense (for then). Instead of dinner, he put me in the bathtub to relax. He put on the Japanese meditation music he had played me every bath I took, and left me to it. While he was gone, things stayed decently consistent, contractions coming about every 5 minutes and lasting 45 seconds to a minute long. When he got home about an hour and a half later, he brought me some food that I tried to eat between contractions. I wasn’t feeling great though. We decided to text our midwife just to update her and give her a heads up in case this really was the real thing. She instructed us to have me take a specific dosage of Benadryl so I could get some sleep before go time. Harrison ran to our medicine, and he brought back the dosage she told us – it was two Benadryl pills. I looked at him laughing and told him to read the message again. I typically take a half a Benadryl when I need it. I thought I would die taking two. It was what she meant though! As we were getting me out of the tub to get heading to bed, my husband stopped for a moment to hang my affirmations cards on a photo door we had used at our wedding. This sweet gesture was just the first of his during labor (he was the best birth partner….just the best). I took the two Benadryl, and we got me going to bed at about 10:30 pm.
Let the labor begin
I slept, but not nearly long enough. Harrison says I was moaning in my sleep, but I got about 4 hours of sleep before the contractions became too much. Much to my surprise, I woke up despite the heavy dosage of Benadryl at about 2:15 am. I went to the bathroom, and I never thought I’d be so happy to see blood in my underwear. It was happening! I now let myself believe I was actually in labor. We started timing contractions again, and they were still between 4 and 6 minutes apart, but they were all about a minute long. We decided to call our doula to let her know the progress. She told us she could be there whenever we needed her. We decided we could do it alone for a while and told her to get some more sleep. The next few hours were actually kind of nice, the two of us laboring alone together, knowing all too soon, everything we knew would change forever.
At around 3:30 am, we got me back in the tub to try to get me more comfortable through the contractions. By 5 am, my contractions were coming hard and fast, about a minute long and a minute or, at most, two minutes between each. It was intense basically right from when I woke up onward. We gave up on the tub, and we had me walk around to keep moving. It seemed to work better. At around 6 am, we stepped outside to watch the sunrise. I had a few contractions while we were outside, some that almost knocked me over. My husband never left my side. He held me up – quite literally – throughout our labor.
We decided to ask our doula to come over at around 7:30 am to get some extra hands since the contractions were coming so quickly. We continued the hard work of labor, constantly changing positions and moving. At 10 am, our midwife came to check in on me. This was the first time I had ever had a vaginal exam with her. We never did them in our appointments because, frankly, they mean nothing. Who cares “how far along” you are? When the baby is coming, the baby is coming. Even in labor, it really doesn’t matter because there are outward signals a laboring woman gives when left to labor naturally. Ability to talk through contractions, mood, mobility, modesty, etc. are all signs as to where a woman is in her labor. Without checking me, my midwife had a pretty good idea of where I was, and she even gave me the option to have the exam or not. She reminded me of what I already knew – I could be at 2 cm or I could be at 8 cm, and it really meant nothing as far as how much longer labor would be. To my surprise, I was 6 cm, 100% effaced, and my water was bulging. Everything was perfectly aligned in my pelvis, and our baby was descending perfectly. She tasked us with getting my water to break, and that was not an easy order! Squats, lunges, captain morgans….they became my life the next couple of hours. Anything to open the hips and put pressure on my cervix. My mucus plug came out at around noon, though that didn’t really change much. The next few hours are blurry, and I don’t know how long things took. I think I know the chain of events, but even that is a little hazy.
hot and cold
I think it was around 1 pm that things really started moving quickly (not that they weren’t already with one minute on and one minute off for going on 11 hours straight, but things intensified). We moved to our master bathroom to get me in the shower. In the time it took the water to heat up, I had multiple contractions on the bathroom floor, but getting in the warm shower was great relief on my back. I wasn’t having back labor, but I was definitely feeling labor in my back. I have two herniated discs in my low back, so I think it was only natural that I would feel some discomfort there during labor. I felt like I was in the shower forever. It was warm, but everytime they opened the door to talk to me, I got so, so cold. Teeth-chattering shivers. I also got nauseous for the first time in labor, and I was handed a bag. Unsurprisingly, not too long after, my water broke. The whole time I had been in the shower, I was having an internal battle. I needed to pee so badly, but I didn’t want to pee in front of all the people watching me….even though I was in the shower and already naked in front of everyone. But for some reason, in my head, I couldn’t do it. Finally, I told myself it was ok, and I relaxed. As that happened, another contraction came on and that’s the one that broke my water, prompting me to scream, “am I peeing or did my water just break?!?!” The answer was yes because both were happening at once.
Now that my water was broken, we needed to do a dose of penicillin because I was GBS+. We got me out of the shower, and my husband wrapped me in a towel and a hug. I nearly collapsed into a contraction, and we did a few more on the bathroom floor, my midwives, doula, dogs, and husband all surrounding and supporting me. After a few, we moved into the bedroom to get out of the way of a hose to fill the birth tub from the shower. This was probably the most painful part of labor – being told I had to stay still through contractions as I was getting the penicillin. It was short, but it felt like an eternity. I was laying on my side wrapped in my husband’s arms with my doula squeezing my hips and my midwife giving me the shot. Pretty immediately after, I was able to get into the birthing tub. We had a slight delay because I had used a lot of the hot water while I was laboring in the shower, and they weren’t sure they’d have enough to fill the tub, too. I expected to love laboring in the tub, and it was definitely nice, but it wasn’t the huge relief I expected possibly because my contractions were more intense with my water gone. I was able to get a little rest leaning against the edge of the tub (which created one of my husband’s favorite photos from our birth, what he has dubbed the Rembrandt).
The water was starting to cool, and we wanted to keep things moving and progressing. While things were going well, there was suspicion that my son’s head was kind of caught on my sacrum and we needed to open my hips and pelvis to help him out. I got out of the tub, and I got on my bed laying on my side. We did side-lying releases through contractions which were not easy. Again, I was stationary, something I had decided was not how I liked to labor. My midwife was by my head, literally whispering sweet nothings into my ear….I have no idea what she said – something about trusting the process and my body – but it was what I needed to hear. To continue to keep things moving, my amazing student midwife did the most horrible thing with me. But it worked so well. She had me backwards on the toilet facing the wall behind it. The toilet is a great place for mamas to labor because it’s a place our bodies have been trained to release and relax. With every contraction I had on the toilet, she would lean me backwards. It was excruciating. The goal was to get my baby’s head over the tailbone. We were there for I believe only 10 contractions, but it felt like an eternity. After that torture was over, we moved back to the bedroom. It was then that I guess I was showing signs of wanting to push some, so they set me up to bear down a little. My doula stood on the bed holding the rebozo, and I was in a deep squat on the ground holding onto the fabric. Every contraction, I pulled – hard – against the rebozo. I’m amazed I didn’t pull my doula right off the bed….there was a lot of force in those contractions and pulls. My husband was right behind me, helping me stay stable and calm through the harder waves.
Bringing him home
I was exhausted. My husband sat back and I laid down in his lap. I was getting hot, and I was just tired. But the contractions didn’t stop, and my baby (unbeknownst to me) was getting close. I turned to all fours for the following contractions. I remember mentally, this is when I started to spiral a little. Looking back, I was in transition. All the signs were there – I was getting hot, losing modesty (this is when I took off my bra), and I started vocalizing, “I can’t do this.” Classic transition. Oh, and I was starting to push a little with the contractions. I remember the moment I realized we were almost there. I was contracting, and something popped and there was a big splash on the floor. I saw blood and what kind of looked like more mucus plug. I yelled, “what was that?!” I think I partly was hoping it was my baby popping out. I don’t remember the response, but it registered to me that the next thing coming out would actually be a baby. I started saying, “it hurts so much,” with every contraction as they were coming faster and faster now. The team told me to replace “it hurts so much” with “that’s my baby” to help me focus and to remind me why we were there. At this point because of how my baby was positioned and how my tailbone was, I rolled onto my back, my husband – my rock – behind me. I never wanted to give birth on my back, but here I was about to push my baby out in the very position I didn’t want. In the moment, I knew it was best, and I trusted the wisdom of my team and my body.
The first thing we heard about our child – “I see a curl!” I think I was in disbelief the whole time I was in labor and that only amplified as I started to push. It felt like an out of body experience, one that you can feel every moment of but yet are so distanced from. It felt like forever that I was pushing, though I later found out that I pushed for only 33 minutes. Pushing was HARD and the ring of fire is no joke. The push before he came eathside, his head was halfway out, and my contraction stopped. Everything in me wanted to keep pushing and also wouldn’t let me push, but I instinctively knew to breathe and relax (as much as you can when there’s half a head sticking out of you). It HURT, but I trusted my body. It’s amazing what can happen when you get out of your own way. The body knows what to do. That contraction stopped with my son there to gently and slowly stretch the tissues which minimizes the chances of tearing. Your body pushes, and then it retreats a little to relax. This slow progress feels like two steps forward, one step back, but it’s purposeful. In the end, I didn’t tear. The next contraction was it – his head came out. Pretty quickly, the rest of him followed – so quickly in fact, he may or may not have bypassed our midwives’ hands and plopped to the floor. He was quickly recovered, and my husband and I reached down to bring our baby to us. My husband guided my hands and helped me hold our child. I forgot the past 15 hours, I forgot the past 30 minutes, I forgot who was in the room with me, and I forgot we didn’t know the sex of our child. All I knew was I had a baby – MY baby – on my chest, and he was perfect.
No one seems to talk much about what happens after the baby is born. I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom and people were swirling around me, but all I could see was my beautiful baby boy on my chest and I could feel the warmth of my husband’s arms holding his wife and his baby. We waited 40+ weeks to find out the sex, but in that moment, it totally slipped my mind. Subconsciously, I knew it was a boy partly because of a feeling and partly because of my hand’s location that happened to be cradling his tushy and manhood. I looked up at my husband and parted my son’s legs slightly, asking my husband to announce it. “It’s a boy!” Tears and hugs went all around, though at the same time, my midwife was attending to me. The way my placenta came out, it seemed like I also lost a lot of blood. It’s a blur, but I remember being handed a couple of pills and my water bottle. I had a precautionary pitocin shot after he was born, but my midwife felt it necessary to give me a little something more just to be safe. Probably more painful that birth (I’m not kidding here) was the uterine massage. To be sure all of my placenta had come out, my midwife had to manually check as well as massage from the outside to promote contractions for the uterus to shrink down. It. Hurt. Badly. Thankfully, I had a beautiful baby to occupy myself with.
We were helped into bed, our son never leaving my chest. After we were all confirmed to be medically sound, our entire birth team left the room to go do paperwork, relax a little, and cook mama some food! This left my husband, son, and I alone for the first time. It was an hour and a half before we were disturbed, but it felt like five minutes. We took time to relax and drink in our son, reflecting on everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. After a while, we shared the news with our family. Our birth team came back in to give me food and to get all the stats on our son. My husband got to cut the umbilical cord and weigh Keeva. He also got his first skin-to-skin time while I was eating. Everything was perfect.
*Special thanks to Bundleborn Midwifery for the love and care, to Lawren Rose Photography for the incredible photos and peaceful presence at our birth, and to Harrison for being the most incredible birth partner, father, and husband.*