Kick.  Kick, kick. KICK. POP!  It is 11:45.  I have been somewhat asleep.  Not all the way of course because what woman 10 days past her due date can truly sleep?  I know immediately what has happened and I am grateful for the waterproof sheet underneath me.

“Will….Will.  Wake up.  My water just broke.”

Will wakes from his blissfully un-pregnant slumber.  “Huh? Wha?”

“My water just broke.  I need your help.”

He sleepily starts to rise and promptly lays back down again.  “I’m going to need just a minute.”

I wait until the ashen look leaves his face and he steels himself for the long night he and I both know is ahead.

A few minutes later I am standing in the bathtub with liquid dripping down my leg while Will changes out sopping sheets for dry ones and a few minutes after that we are finally back in bed.

A call to our midwife garnered this advice, “Go back to bed.  Try to get some sleep.  Labor will start soon.”

Sure enough 30 minutes after my water broke the first rushes start.  They are small, barely noticeable but it is early yet.  Will gets back out of bed to set up the birth pool because once things get going we know there won’t be time.  Sister hears the pump and stumbles sleepily downstairs.  She’s excited and there’s no sending her back to bed so we have her go to the couch instead.

One am and all activity ceases.

In the morning I give our midwife a ring, “Uhm you know when you said labor would start soon.  Exactly how soon is soon?”

There’s no point is changing our day so we get up and have breakfast.  I start some laundry while Will plays with the kids.  Around 10:30 we head out for a walk thinking that might help and discover a garter snake near the house.

The walk does nothing.  Spicy food perhaps?  We head to a local Mexican restaurant for a nice lunch.  Contractions?  Nada.

My water has been broken long enough now that to stave off possible infection I begin taking Vitamin C and Echinacea every hour.  I am, of course, in contact with our midwife this whole time but there’s not much to tell.  She suggests castor oil and I flatly refuse.  What about cohash?  Almost as yucky but okay.

Continuing our day of non-laboring fun we shoot some pool, play 20 questions and a round of Settlers of Catan. (Sister wins).  To bed we go.  No baby but it’s been the most awesome family of 4 day ever.

Saturday, July 18th

I continue taking the cohash in the morning but it’s been almost 33 hours now since my water broke and though there’s no sign of infection obviously we want to be as safe as possible. 

“If you hit the 48 hour mark, we’ll have to go to the hospital.”  I know she’s right though I hate to admit it.  Will heads to Walgreen’s for castor oil and by 3pm I’ve taken my 3rd dose of the nasty stuff.

Somewhere in there it occurs to me that perhaps labor hasn’t picked up because I’m busy trying to be a mom instead of a pregnant woman so as much as I wanted them to be there for the birth Grandma comes to pick up Brother and Sister for a night at her house.

Finally, finally around six real contractions start.  They’re not super strong but they are regular and growing consistently longer and stronger.  Yay!  I think about doing a happy dance but with the kids away Will and I settle in to watch a movie instead.  Air Force One for the curious among you.  Nothing like a little espionage to get you in the mood to have a baby.  Or not.  Harrison Ford is just beginning his quest to re-take the plane when the contractions start to fizzle out again.

“We need to go for a walk.”  I tell Will.  He hides his disappointment and we head out for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood.  “Around” the neighborhood might not have been the best route choice.  Half a mile from home and I am stopping every few steps to cope.  Back at home, Harrison continues outwitting the bad guys.  I breathe through each rush as it comes but with 6 minutes left on the ticker, I’ve had about all I can take of Harrison’s antics.  It’s time to concentrate on baby.

We go downstairs.  There is much walking and kneeling and leaning and swaying and pretty much whatever else I think might help.  Around 10 Will fills the birth pool and about 20 minutes later I’m groaning about how old I am and how hard this is and being generally negative.  The doula in me says, “Hello, transition woman.”  The rest of me says, “Shut-up.”

I slip into the pool hoping our midwife arrives soon because I’m definitely feeling that pushing urge and yet something isn’t quite right.  She walks in the door at 11 and immediately checks me.  Or tries to.  “I’m sorry but I need you to get out of the pool.”

What the heck?  Tiffany’s been my midwife before.  I know she can check me in the pool. “What is her problem?,”  I think to myself.  Soon I know.

“Uhm, I’m feeling a nose.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means the baby is presenting face first.”  She pauses, “It means we may need to go the hospital.”

“Nooo.”  It comes out as a pitiful request.  We’ve gone through so much to avoid that scenario.  I can’t bring myself to accept it now.

Will speaks up.  “Can’t you, you know, move the shoulder back or something?”  (In his mind he is referencing a similar situation from “All Creatures Great and Small” in which a cow is having difficulty and the vet manipulates the calf into a better position.  Only later do I learn this underlying information which is fortunate because had I thought at that moment Will was comparing me to a cow bad things might have happened.)

She looks at him for a moment, “I suppose I could try.”

At least two strong contractions have come and gone during this exchange and a third is on the way.  I am told to turn on hands and knees with face down and bottom up.  The contraction subsides and she checks me again.  Three more rounds of this and I’m declared complete.  “There is still a little lip but you can push slowly.”

I need to be back in the water so the three of us move as a unit across to the pool.  The contractions are so strong now there is no choice but to push.  Will is behind me supporting my arms.  Tiffany has the baby.  She brings her to the surface of the water.  Her tiny face is swollen and a little blue but with a bit of oxygen the color quickly returns.  The moment is heavy with relief and euphoria.  It is 11:35. ~ 35 minutes since Tiffany arrived, 5 hours and 35 minutes since labor really began and just shy of 48 hours since my water broke.

Since I was nursing when baby #4 surprised us by his presence we weren’t sure of the due date so we went to see Barbara.  She gave us these.

and a due date of Nov 18th … you know, because having a newborn in the mix will really make the holiday season go more smoothly.

She also told us our baby to be is a boy (which, for the record, I knew already).  Sister and Brother are both pleased with this information.  Sister because it means that she won’t have to share her room with another sibling and Brother because he likes things to be even.

She also told us that Baby is super healthy and perfect in every way.  (She didn’t use those exact words but that’s what she meant.) but she also informed us that we have marginal placenta previa.  Probably everything will be just fine because it’s still so early in the pregnancy but later we will make a trip to see Barbara again to be sure.  Other than that all is well.

As a bonus for you, here’s a baby picture that Sister drew for me when we returned.

.

Greeted early by two bright sets of eyes I rolled my tired body out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen.  I started water for tea and began to make the worst breakfast smoothies ever.  Neither child would touch them opting instead for cheesecake.  (Wouldn’t you?)

I wrote out an ambitious to do list for the day hoping to keep my mind occupied and was well through the first task - an enormous mound of laundry - when my body cried uncle.  Back down the hall to a bed kept warm by my sleeping mate.  A light but persistent cramping hovered in the background until I rolled myself out of bed for the second time.  Will cooked a real breakfast and I returned to my list ignoring the ever increasing cramps that came and went on some erratic schedule.

Around 11, I returned to bed for the third time.  The cramping had increased and now washed over me in waves radiating pain around my abdomen, lower back and down both legs.  I glanced at the clock, “God, when will it end.”  Another wave - another look at the clock, another wave, another … and then the realization hit.  They are not just cramps.  They are contractions.  Of course.  Now we were in familiar territory.  As fear of the unknown subsided so too did the unbearable pain.  The waves still came but I was no longer drowning - at least not completely.

As a doula I have seen a number of women in labor reach a point of despair thinking it will never end.  The point for each was different but I told them all the same.  “It’s okay.  You can do it.  I know it’s hard but it’s worth it.  There’s a prize at the end.”  About 12:15 I thought of those words and began to despair myself.  If there was no prize then all was for naught, wasn’t it?

I sent my longsuffering husband on a hunt for the strongest medication in the house.  “I want four.”  He returned with two.  “I need four.” He hands me the two. “Just take these.  You don’t need to have liver damage on top of everything else.”  My reply came through clenched teeth. “I need four.  You will bring me two more or I will get them myself.”  I have, with the help of my husband, birthed two children sans medication of any kind.  I am sure he found my attitude bewildering at best and to be honest I did to.  The doula part of me whispered, “You’re in transition.” while the laboring part of me wailed, “That’s ridiculous.  This isn’t even a real labor.”  Will returned with the requested caplets but it was too late.  I waved him away, leaned over the bed and let my grief have a voice.  Tears dropped unchecked onto the quilt below and when there were no more left to fall my body finally released its precious charge.

If you have experienced the loss of a child through miscarriage please know that my deepest sympathies are with you.  Understand that I am not trying to be flippant by publishing such a loss as a birth story.  It was simply one of those things that begged to be written and remembered.

Know also that I have found a Hope in the midst of grief and I wish the same for you.

“Why are you downcast oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me?

I put my hope in God for I will yet praise Him,  my Savior and my Lord.

Psalm 43:5-6

The inherent difficulty with inductions is that even though you may know what day and time your labor will begin you still cannot know the hour in which your baby will arrive.  If your body has fully primed itself for labor then only the slightest bit of encouragement will get things going and you may find yourself with babe in arms before the day is out.  Or if you have an overly zealous physician with an 8am tee time Jr is sure to arrive in short order.  But suppose you are like neither of these, suppose you arrive at the hospital on your scheduled induction date with a body that has made no visible progress whatsoever and a baby who insists on hanging out up by your rib cage.  Suppose your doctor is an easy going friendly sort who doesn’t even play golf.  In that case, your name would be Jennifer and this would be your story.

Jennifer’s mother and myself accompany her to the hospital on Wednesday evening.  After a short visit with “Nanny”, who had been admitted a few days before, Jen checks herself in and is settled in her room by 8 pm.  “Settled” in this case means wearing the ever attractive hospital garb, two belly monitors (one for mom and one for baby), a blood pressure cuff, a heart rate monitor and an IV.  The kind nurse who inserts the IV promises that she is usually very efficient.  Usually.  There is much talk of small veins and a couple of decidedly inefficient attempts but eventually soon enough the IV is in.  Examination reveals that apparently Jen’s body has not been previously informed of the impending labor,  I mean other than that big bump in front, so the doc prescribes some cervidil to get things started.

Thursday morning we are hopeful.  The pitocin gets started and Jennifer finds an ally in one of the nurses - a friend from high school.  Spurred on by the pitocin, contractions begin - weak but steady.  Nine hours later our mother-to-be is declared 1 cm … almost.  The pit is turned off shortly before Jennifer’s father, having traveled across the state, arrives and contractions stop shortly after.

Friday seems destined to follow Thursday’s pattern.  The pitocin is started early (6am) and though contractions are steady and somewhat strong, progress is slow … disappointingly slow.  7:30 no change ~~~ 12:00 no change ~~~ 3:30 Contractions intensify and there is a slight change.  Jennifer’s status finally moves from “almost” 1cm to “a clear” 1cm.  After two days of hoping, she is deflated to say the least.  The doctor suggests that perhaps her body needs a break and turns off the pitocin.  “We can try again on Monday,” he says going out the door.

I remember there being a family discussion with phrases like “It’s all going to be okay.”; “The baby will come when she’s ready.”; and “God has a perfect timing for these things.”  I remember Jennifer nodding and trying to smile through her tears and I remember watching in the background and seeing what no one else seemed to notice:  little hills that continued to cross the monitor despite the loss of pitocin stimulus.   Growing stronger with the passing minutes, these unexpected contractions begin to push their way on stage.  “Notice Us!”, they demand and Jennifer does.  Her despair clears, replaced by bouts of slow breathing and intense focus every 5 to 8 minutes.  Within three hours 1 cm is long gone.  Jennifer is a “4″.  One hour more and she is a “6″.

Sometime around 6:30 all this intensity starts to wear and Jen opts for an epidural.  The anesthesiologist is quickly paged and nurses scurry about getting things ready.  All this activity triggers a natural “fight or flight” response and the contractions dwindle.  Doc drops by to say, “hi” and breaks her water.  The pitocin is turned back on.  The epidural goes in around 8 and promptly starts to take effect … on the left side.  All attempts to “even out” the medication fail so Jennifer returns to the only relief left in her arsenal: slow breathing and focus.  A little after 9pm the room is quiet again but the damage has been done.  A 10pm check reveals no change.  Despair tries to return but we chase it out after a short skirmish and things get back on track.  12am 8cm ~~~ 1am Complete ~~~ 1:30 My friend transforms into Champion Pusher Woman.  By 2:10 we see tufts of dark hair and a couple of pushes later we greet for the first time Miss Leslie Jean.

Leslie Jean

October 13, 2007; 2:22am

6 pounds 1/2 ounce

18 3/4 inches

“For this child I prayed and the Lord has granted me my petition”

I Samuel 1:27

This post concludes the About Birth series.  Check out this page if you’d like to see more.

Hurray!  Our Birth-Day inspiration is having her baby!  Not right this minute but soon.  Her induction is scheduled for Thursday.  Will and the kids and I are traveling out toward the Panhandle today.  They will drop me off to be with Jen and then drive on out to Grandma Mary’s.

If you think of it, say a little prayer for the mommy-to-be and her beautiful, happy, healthy baby.  And if you’d like to share your birth story (We’d love to read it!), please leave a link in the comments.  If Jen gives her permission I will post her story next Thursday.

See you next week!

Find out more about Birth-Day here.

It occurred to me that reading such a long birth story might not be as encouraging as reading about a short one.  For this week, I’d like to share a birth from my friend Melissa Morrill.  Melissa owns a faboulous store in Tulsa that caters to pregnant mamas, new mamas and their families.  I had the great privilege of attending as a doula the arrival of her son, Foster.  Amazing! 

Though she doesn’t state it in the story, Melissa’s other son, Cameron was present during her entire labor.  He wandered into the living room (where Melissa did most of her laboring) to check on his mom and see what was going on. Then he would lose interest and return to his room to play with his cars for a while.  At no point was he disturbed by the birthing process, just curious.  And during one particularly heavy contraction he even reached out to hold his mama’s hand.  It seems a pity to me that children are often barred from entering hospital L&D units - but that is another post altogether.  For now, please enjoy….

Foster’s Story   (Be sure to click through to the pictures!)

Click here for more Birth-Day goodness.

**Updated 11/29/08 - I’ve removed the images from this post because the freaky people who were linking to them weird me out.

Brother’s birth began on August 10, 2004. That morning I lost some of my mucous plug which seemed to initiate a series of contractions throughout the day. Despite the fact that it was already 16 days past Brother’s due date (yes, 16 - that’s not a typo)I didn’t put much hope in these contractions because they were extremely light and irregular. However, around 7:30pm the rushes settled into a steady pattern occurring every 15 minutes and lasting about 40 seconds. My expectations began to rise. It was difficult to go to sleep but I tried my best knowing I would need rest for the labor ahead. The last contraction I remember feeling occurred at 2:30am.

For the better part of the 11th my body resumed it’s normal 9+ months pregnant state sans contractions. Then at 7pm a familiar tightening in my belly caught my attention. Easily 10 minutes apart and lasting only 20 seconds or so there was no need to get excited though it was hard not too. By 11:30 the contractions had increased in length to 40 seconds and though light were coming regularly every 5 minutes. As before I knew better than to stay awake, so to bed we went. Sleep was sporadic until 5am when the contractions stopped.

August 12th came … and went. Apparently, Brother was taking a little break.

The morning of August 13th, Will treated me to breakfast at the Cracker Barrel then at 11 my midwife treated me to a special blend of Herbal Chinese Tea (guaranteed to produce a baby within 24 hours… HA!) That evening, just after we’d put Sister down to sleep, again with the contractions. Light and short but a regular 5 min apart. We went to bed but awoke around midnight to discover that number had shortened to only 3 min between each one. This was surely “it.” At 4am my full bladder begged to be emptied and a slight bit of bloody show would have convinced me this was the “real thing” except … all contractions had ceased, again.

The next morning all my convictions about the evils of induction had unceremoniously left the building. My breakfast consisted of milk, a dohnut, a round of the noxious Herbal Chinese Tea and several drops of cohosh. Despite my efforts nothing happened until 7pm on the dot (Can you see a pattern here?) They were puny little contractions 30 seconds or so every 15 minutes. I threw up my hands in disgust and went to bed.

My body woke me at 10:13 with a tightening that lasted at least 60 sec (This was new.) and then another 8 minutes later, just as long, and another, and another. Finally! These required some  concentration. Now we were getting somewhere. Sometime in the night, Will recorded that I ate some toast and took a warm bath. We tried to sleep but were up at least once every hour as the contractions remained strong and steady throughout the night. By 6:30am there was no point in staying in bed. My body needed to move. I got up and wandered about the house stopping every 6 min or so to relax and allow my body to work. Will brought me some honey toast and kept me supplied with water.

Sister woke a little after 7. I wish I could remember what she did during this time but labor requires focus so all I have to go on are the notes that Will faithfully scrawled in between taking care of me and taking care of her. I imagine since Sprout was very popular with Sister during that period that she probably cuddled up with her cat and a sippy cup of milk in front of the television and allowed the haze of slumber to slowly fade to the tune of “Dddd-ora. Dddd - ora. Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer!…”

Around 8:30am, I returned to bed.  The rushes were starting to wear and I needed to be in a place where I could completely relax.  I remember thinking how very nice that I didn’t have to deal with any wires or monitors or getting the doctor’s “permission” for this or that.  Instead I listened and responded as my body told me what to do.  “Move… sit… rock… sway… kneel … stand very still…”

As I scan down through the record Will kept, it is interesting to see the pattern.  Not every contraction is the same length.  In some cases there is a variance of some 30 seconds but I notice that after several long clustered rushes there was often a break.  Four to six short ones with more time in between.  Then a long one with a long break, then a couple of short ones closer together.  Labor would be impossible if it ran at full intensity for the duration so like waves that bring in the tide it advances in a steady but delightfully varied way.

I eat as I am hungry - a banana, ramen noodles, more toast - with plenty of water.  All this water, of course, means many visits to the restroom.  Sitting on the toilet seems to intensify the contractions but rather than dreading that consequence I look forward to it knowing that intensity often equals progress.

Sister leaves with Aunt P. around 10:30 to go to church and I think to myself how wonderful it would be for Brother to be born on the Sabbath.  Apparently, some part of me was still aware of and monitoring her presence because as soon as she leaves everything begins to happen much more quickly.  I roam the living room searching for a comfortable spot.  I use the opportunity between each contraction to move to a new place or change to a new position.  It is not written on Will’s notes but I remember talking and laughing between rushes then stopping at the first twinge of tightness, drawing into myself as the contraction grew, washed over me then subsided to nothingness.  I remember easily picking up the conversation until the next wave.

Having read extensively of Dr. Odent’s success with water births, we had rented a birth pool and set it up many, many days before in our guest room.  I never knew for sure whether I would use it or not but I wanted it there… just in case.  A little after 1pm, it was no longer a question.  I needed to be in the water.  But first, I asked my midwife for an exam.  I knew that sometimes getting in the water prior to 4 or 5cm could slow or even stall labor altogether.  Having waited so long I wanted to avoid that at all costs.  I waited fearfully.  In my head, I heard, “3cm.”  With my ears, “7 - a very stretchy 7.  You can get in if you want.”   Yes!  I went to the restroom one last time and was on my way to the pool when with a slight pop my water broke.  (Hmm, how do you suppose one gets amniotic fluid out of the carpet?)

2:10 found me (finally!) in the glorious water.  It was as if my body had whispered its needs before but now spoke them clearly.  The water made it so easy to move this way or that - so easy to reach just the right position.

Transition occurred at 2:15.  I remember it clearly.  It enveloped me in one overwhelming contraction.  It was the one moment of the whole labor that I thought, “I want to go home.”  I grasped the side of the pool, looked up helplessly into Will’s eyes and realized, “I am home.”  At the very next contraction, I could actually feel Brother begin to descend.  It was an incredible sensation.  No one told me the moment his head emerged, I knew and I reached instinctively to touch my son for the first time.  One last push and the midwife gently brought him to the surface of the water and placed him in my arms.  His eyes were bright, taking in this new world around him.  He did not cry.  We sat that way for many minutes and not until Will lifted him out did he utter a sound which is, I think, a testament to how he felt about being born in the water.

Brother’s official birth time is 2:38pm, August 15, 2004 which technically means I was in labor for about 115hrs or almost 5 days.  It does make measurements seem silly, doesn’t it?

**Original Images Removed

There’s another picture here.

Click this if you’d like to read more Birth Day posts.

(Yes, I really did post this in the wee hours of the morn for those of you paying attention.  Hopefully, I’ll be back soon to post more of your regularly scheduled randomness.)

I stumbled across this website today and I am so excited about it.

There are many doulas out there looking for mothers to serve and finally there is a good way to connect the two.

In case you don’t know, a doula is a professional labor assistant.  Usually a woman, a doula’s main role is to provide comfort and information to the laboring mother and her partner.  A good doula is worth her weight in gold and sometimes seems to charge that much.  Seriously in this part of the nation it is not uncommon for a doula fee to range from $300 to $700.  Despite her value, that amount is often out of reach for some mothers-to-be, that is why I am so excited about bellywomen.net.  Skimming through the listings I saw many “doula-in-training” posts.  Each of the doula and child birth education certification organizations (DONA, CAPPA, ICEA, Birthworks…) require an applicant to attend a certain number of births as part of the certification process.  This is very hard to do so trainees sometimes offer their services for free or at a greatly reduced price.  While a doula-in-training will probably not have attended as many births as a certified doula she will still know far more about birth than the average mother and according to studies her mere presence will help your labor to go more smoothly.

I have tried to stay off my doula soapbox during this series because once I get up there I have a tendency to be pushy.  At Sister’s Birth my doula was an anchor for both Will and myself and she was the inspiration for my own doula adventures.  Because of that, I am convinced that every woman should have a doula even as I know that is not entirely realistic.  Perhaps I should just share some doula resources and let you decide for yourself.

The Birth Doula’s Contribution to Modern Maternity Care (DONA)

Dads & Doulas (DONA)

Evidence Based Labor Doula Care (CAPPA)

The Doula Book (a series of studies supporting doula care)

We are off to close on our house.  So for today I offer you a link for laughter.  Enjoy!

Birth Cartoons

Click here for previous Birth-Day posts.

In honor of Brother’s birthday - yesterday (Thanks, Jen, for your comment.) I had intended to post his birth story but for some reason even now 3 years later I have trouble putting it in to words.  I will post it before the end of this series I promise but for today a link to a lovely hospital birth story.  Enjoy!