I had to laugh when I re-read this post because after writing a long-winded and self-pitying rant about still being pregnant, I promptly stood up from the computer and went into labor. On my due date.
Labor was in some ways exactly what I expected and in other ways, an entirely different experience than what I had imagined. I had my first contraction the minute Joshua came home from an exceptionally long work day at 10:30pm, covered in snow and looking slightly stunned to find me hunched over the counter. I did not say hello and instead just blurted out, "IjusthadmyfirstpainfulcontractionandIthinkI'minlabor". I think at the time, Joshua said something sweet like "that's great!", and then we had a relatively mundane conversation about how his day went (good) and how mine went (self-pitying, see above) and whether or not we should plan on keeping our reservation at a hotel close to the hospital the next night (there was an epic blizzard on the way, and I was terrified of giving birth in a snowdrift). But for some reason, in the past few weeks, the memory of him walking in the door that night has become intensely meaningful to me. It feels like the counterpart moment to when I blew off yet another 'negative' pregnancy test, only to hear Joshua calling from the bathroom, "Um...I can see a second line?" It would have been just as real if I had taken the positive test alone (but thanks for letting me know Joshua!), or if I had gone into labor when he wasn't around, but for me those crisp memories of the two of us, realizing something life-changing together, define the beginning and end of our pregnancy. Everything before that crazy morning last May was just us hoping to get pregnant, and everything after that snowy minute in the kitchen is the story of Matilda. The in-between, the 40 week rush of growing our daughter, ends in my memory when Joshua walked in that door.
My contractions started coming faster, stronger, harder, longer overnight. Joshua slept for a few hours, and I tried as well but gave up when the contractions sent me repeatedly lumbering out of bed. I did all the cliched labor things - took a shower, bounced on the birth ball, paced our halls to make sure this was real labor - and some of the lesser known early labor activities, like obsessively painting my nails, watching all the episodes of How I Met Your Mother left on my DVR, and tracking the snowstorm that was threatening to force me into an unwanted home birth. It was the quietest and only solitary part of my labor, overnight by myself, and I didn't do all the frantic and excited texting I thought I would. I actually didn't do all the thinking I thought I would. I'm a person who usually needs other people in painful and emotional situations, and because I literally have a career due to all the things that can go wrong in pregnancy and birth, I assumed I would need constant reassurance during labor. Instead I felt oddly serene, sitting alone on my birth ball in the dark, feeling the baby move and kick after every contraction. (I could have turned on some Enya and really embraced the primal experience of labor, but that is seriously not my style so I chose to share these intimate moments with Neil Patrick Harris and Alyson Hannigan instead. I do not regret The Funny over The Granola).
I woke Joshua up for good around 5am when my contractions were close to 5 minutes apart and almost a minute long. We knew our midwives would want us to stay at home as long as possible so we waited until 6am to call (I feel like this birth story is exceptionally long and so possibly you are thinking, I have been reading this for 20 minutes and she has not even called the hospital yet? Brace yourselves). The midwife on call listened to me describe how I felt and then said sweetly, "Well, I do think you're in labor. And your contractions don't really need to come any more frequently, but I'd like them to be a little longer, and just call back when you can't walk or talk through them, ok?"
Ok. I kept bouncing on the ball, walking up and down the stairs, and finished packing my bags. I ate. As soon as it was light out and the blizzard forecast started looking absolutely deadly, I sort of snapped out of my nighttime fog and decided I wanted company. My best friend Jessica, who was going to drive me to a non-stress test appointment that morning, came over to help us get ready and pass the time until my contractions got stronger.
At 9am, a different midwife (my favorite) told me (again,sweetly) to stay home until I lost my appetite. At 10am, with my contractions 4 minutes apart, at least a minute long, unable to walk and talk during them, and no desire to eat anymore, she said she would meet me at the hospital in an hour. In the meantime, Jessica had grabbed our camera and started taking pictures of Joshua
It's hard to describe the jumble of emotions I felt as we left for the hospital. I was so thankful that Jessica was coming with us, slightly terrified for the drive because I hadn't managed to stay sitting during a contraction once, and unexpectedly weepy. As I was walking out the door I noticed our confused pup Helo sitting alone in the middle of the kitchen and I felt one brief moment of sadness for him and for the simple, almost responsibilty-free life we were leaving behind. Sappy? I know. I blame the hormones and the pelvis-rattling pain I was experiencing.
To be honest, the slow drive through the snow to the hospital while I jumped off the seat during every contraction was truly sucky. But we made it almost without incident. I say almost because Jessica was literally almost killed by a truck during a car-switching maneuver in the snow, but thank God, I remained the only person who ended up hospitalized that day.
Once we got into our delivery room and let our families know we were at the hospital, the midwife checked me and announced I was 4cm dilated. I remember being so happy that I was making decent progress, and also shocked at how uncomfortable I was laboring on my back in bed. As soon as I stood back up and started pacing, leaning over the bed, the counters, the birth ball, whatever I could find during a contraction, it felt like all of us - me, Joshua, Jessica, and our midwife - slid into the hazy experience of hard labor together. I'm sure the afternoon passed much differently for them than for me, but I never felt like I was doing anything alone.
This long stretch of afternoon was the most enjoyable part of my labor. One of our midwives left to see patients at their office, and the other drifted in and out of the room frequently to check on me and put pressure on my back when I needed it. Our nurse came in every hour to check the baby's heartbeat, and other than that we were left to ourselves. I wish I had other words to describe it besides all the natural birth 'catchphrases', but it truly was a primal, instinctual experience. When I had a contraction, I just did whatever I felt like I was supposed to do. The awful, guttural birth moan. Squeezing the hands of whoever was unlucky enough to be sitting right in front of me. Swayed, bounced in the water, rearranged all the pillows and blankets to support me in whatever position seemed marginally more comfortable. I have strange sensory memories of the afternoon - when I was in the tub during contractions I wanted to rest my chin on Joshua or Jessica's palms because the cold tile bothered me. For the first half of the afternoon I remember laughing and talking with everyone, and during contractions I would drift around in my mind. I kept saying that it felt like a dream.
I also said it looked like a Vegas strip club when I came out of the tub to find that our thoughtful midwife had turned on the heat lamps above the bed.
I have no memories of actually looking out the window at the snowstorm, but I remember feeling less talkative as the day went on and the room slowly get darker and quieter. My water stayed intact while I progressed from 4cm to 6cm to 8cm by 6pm. I started to run out of new positions to labor in, and instead of reaching out for whoever was closest, I wanted Joshua to be the one with me as much as possible. I ended up figuring out that I was most comfortable just sitting on the toilet. The bathroom was just a tiny rectangle and there was only room for Joshua to hunch over on a small chair facing me. Everyone else had to stand in the doorway to talk to me and I remember feeling like he was protecting me in my small, questionably hygienic safe place. My contractions really weren't getting any more painful, but I felt myself switching from talking between them to resting and even sleeping when I wasn't feeling any pain. I got a sudden burst of energy around 7pm and along with it I had the sudden realization that I was pushing during a contraction.
The midwife checked me and I was 9.5cm dilated. After I was standing back up and had recovered from the excruciating pain of lying down during a contraction, during a cervical check,(honestly, I do not know how people labor in bed)I actually said to the midwife, "This really isn't as bad as I thought I would be." And let me just say, whether you are laboring without pain meds or not, that is a really stupid thing to throw out there. I mean, I'm a nurse. We never say things like, "It's going to be a slow night!" or "My patient hasn't coded in a week!" because that means you will be pushing the code button within 15 minutes. My midwife, who obviously has the benefit of giving birth herself, not to mention the experience of catching hundreds of babies, said something noncommittal like, "Hmmm!" or "Oh really?" And I was feeling all proud and I-am-woman-ish, and within 5 minutes ohmygod it was not as bad as I thought it would be, it was much worse.
The worst is obviously followed by the best:
Spoiler alert! There will eventually be a birth at the end of this remarkably way too long story, but that is going to be described (at length, obviously I am not big on condensing) in Part Two.
