After the episode of false labor, it started to feel like this baby was taking forever to come. I constantly had to remind myself that I hadn't even hit my due date yet. To keep from settling into a bad funk, I decided to work on last minute projects. I made a new mattress pad for the bassinet. And crocheted some baby hats. And did lots and lots of laundry.
I also tried to focus on the kids and their activities, instead of just moping around the house. We made sure to make it to singing time and playgroup at the church and take Charlotte to her play practices and preschool group. And the day before I hit my due date, my good friend gave me the most thoughtful gift: she babysat my kids and sent me off to get a massage. I had been having fairly constant back-pain and what a relief! I slept the best I had in months that night. The fact that she had been so sweet to think of me and not only gift me a massage but also watch my kids, was so rejuvenating! Add to that the physical relief from the massage--and I felt like I had a new lease on life. I could do this! My mantra became: "I can do anything for 14 days!" with the number lowering each day. It helped to remember that there was an end in sight.
My due date came and went. I kept my chin up and set my sights on my mom's birthday, April 12th. My sister's baby had been born a few months earlier on my dad's birthday, so wouldn't that be fitting for the next grandchild to be born on my mom's birthday? Well, it was a nice idea, but didn't happen. So I decided to look towards the 15th. Charlotte was born in October of 2010 (10-10), Elliot on the 5th of May (5-5), so how appropriate if this little one was born on the 15th of 2015 (15-15)?
Monday morning I had a prenatal appointment. I was happy when Laura asked me if I wanted my membranes swept. That had seemed to do the trick with Charlotte, so I was all for it. After my appointment, I was crampy and uncomfortable for the entire day, but none of the contractions were especially noteworthy.
Tuesday evening (technically Wednesday morning), I woke up at 1am with some all-too-familiar pains. I soon decided to move to the couch so I wouldn't disturb Mitch. If I had learned anything from my experience with false labor, it was that going into labor without any sleep is a bad idea. So this time, in between each contraction, I flopped back on the couch, burrowed into the blanket, and attempted to fall back asleep. The contractions were only coming every 10 minutes, far enough apart for me to get small amounts of rest between them. I went on like this for several hours. Although the contractions weren't speeding up especially, they were starting to hurt more. I had to moan through them and was surprised how strong they were getting. I also started feeling nauseous and had the unpleasant first-time experience of throwing up while in labor. Luckily, I only had water in my stomach so it could have been worse.
Around 4:30am, I decided to wake Mitch up to help me time contractions. He came out and laid on the other couch in the living room and started timing. Contractions were 8 minutes apart, then 7 minutes. After awhile, I asked him how far apart they were coming. When he replied they were still only 7-8 minutes apart I couldn't believe it! They really seemed to be ramping up, so I couldn't understand how they couldn't also be getting closer together!
I decided to hop in the shower and that felt awesome. Last time at the birth center, the shower hadn't gotten as hot as I wanted. So I made sure to thoroughly enjoy the toasty water. When I got out, Mitch started timing again and still the contractions were only 6-7 sometimes even 8 minutes apart. In retrospect, it should have been obvious that I was simply in early labor. But never having experienced it before (I had always just jumped fairly quickly into active labor), this was really starting to seem crazy!
I left Mitch to sleep and continued back with my attempts to snooze between contractions. Finally, it was 7am and I decided to put a call in to the birth center for advice on what I should do. Laura answered the call and I filled her in on what was going on. "Do you think you're in labor?" she asked me. "I don't know!" I replied. I was so confused. This was not at all like my other two labors and I really had no point of reference for what to do. Laura recommended that I get up and start moving around (instead of napping) and see if that had any effect on the speed of my contractions. We decided to touch base at 8:30am.
Walking around definitely started speeding up the contractions. They were now coming every 4-5 minutes. When I talked with Laura again, we decided that it would be a good idea to come into the birth center. Her shift was ending, so Onica would be at there to meet us.
Mitch gave me a priesthood blessing before we left. I felt a lot of strength and peace from the blessing. It was a reminder that I was not going to be left to bear this alone, but that God was mindful of me and this birth.
The kids woke up and Mitch told them the baby was going to be born soon and that Grandma and Grandpa would be taking care of them. Shouts of "SLEEPOVER AT GRANDMA'S!!!" echoed from downstairs. Elliot had been waiting for weeks for this chance of a sleepover. Who cares about a new baby when you can party with grandparents? Am I right?!
We arrived at the birth center at 9:30am. Onica was getting everything set up and we started settling in. I was 6cm dilated and 90% effaced. "Well, at least that's something.." I said. After all those hours of contractions, I secretly had thought I would be a 7 or 8. But I was relieved to hear that this was truly labor and that things were actually moving forward.
Onica got my antibiotics for the Group B Strep ready and started working on the IV. After three failed attempts, she wasn't going to poke me again. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I'm going to call for back-up." Laura made the quick trip over from the clinic and was able to get the IV in successfully. She wished us luck and headed back to the office.
Contractions were starting to come a little more frequently and were more uncomfortable. I started making more noise during them and grabbing onto whatever was closest: the edge of the bed, counter, birth ball, etc. Onica asked me if I wanted to get into the shower. I thought that sounded like a great idea!
As always, the shower was really helpful. My contractions were getting much stronger and I really started vocalizing through them. As each contraction strengthened, my "oooh's" sounded like loud long notes. I remember thinking laughingly to myself (in between a contraction of course) that my vibrato was really sounding good. Quite operatic, if truth be told. At one point even, the "Dinostars" song from Charlotte's play went through my mind. Instead of fighting it, I just went with it and sang in my mind: "Dinostars! Dinostars! We're all a bunch of prehistoric superstars!...." It actually worked as a funny little distraction.
Onica checked me again and let me know I was at an 8. "Why is it taking so long?" I complained. Mitch was my voice of reason, encouraging me: "You're doing great, honey. That means you're almost there!" He also convinced me to eat some yogurt to keep my strength up (even though I really didn't want to). But despite his encouragement, I felt frustrated. I knew that I still had a lot of hard work ahead of me and that even if I was "almost there" the hardest part was yet to come. Whoever coined the term "ignorance is bliss" really hit the nail on the head when it comes to having a baby. Standing there in the shower, I was well aware of all the work that I still had ahead of me. And it made me tired just thinking about it!
Luckily, the shower was continuing to help soothe me through each contraction. A song I had learned as a teenager began to run through my mind. I started singing it quietly,
"I am with thee.
Be not afraid.
for I will not leave thee,
Just trust in my Word.
Be thou humble,
and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand.
and give thee answer to thy prayers.
and give thee answers to all cares.
I too have felt alone.
I too felt grief and pain.
But ye are my friend.
and I am with thee unto the end.
Unto the end, I am with thee."
Tears filled my eyes and I began softly crying. I thought about the blessing Mitch had given me earlier. In it he had talked about Jesus Christ, His Atonement, and His perfect understanding of the pain I would experience and the emotions I would feel. I took a lot of comfort in knowing that Christ really knew exactly what I was going through. And I knew that He would be with me to see this thing all the way through.
Soon, I decided to get out of the shower. Onica suggested I sit on the birth stool to put more pressure on the cervix. My water hadn't broken yet and so baby's head was still fairly high, floating in all the fluid. Mitch asked if we could break my water, hoping that would help move things along. I was getting so tired and that sounded like a fine idea to me. Onica said we could do that, but we needed to wait another 45 minutes or so until the antibiotics had run their course for the full four hours.
When we were ready to break my water, Onica had quite the time of it! Everyone was laughing at how strong the amniotic sac was. She kept trying to break it without any luck. Trina asked me to give some small pressure between contractions to see if that would help. That did the trick! After the happy discovery that the water was clear, everyone was laughing how much amniotic fluid there was. Someone remarked, "That belly isn't all baby--it's all water!"
My contractions actually started slowing down at this point, coming as slowly as 5 minutes apart. I was enjoying the breaks, but seeing as how I probably wouldn't have the energy to be in labor for the entire day, the midwives thought it might be a good idea to try and speed things up. They asked if I wanted to try taking herbs and also using the breast pump to help intensify the contractions.
So thus began the song and dance of working through a contraction, putting on the breast pump till the next contraction hit (I was in no condition to worry about that, so Mitch took one side and the birth assistant Albi took the other), and repeat. Add in there a dropper-full of herbs every 10 minutes or so which I had to hold under my tongue for as long as I could and then rinse down with a big chug of Powerade, and we were quite the production!
Unfortunately, my cervix is kind of cruel (as I learned during labor with Elliot), and when Onica next checked, the darn anterior lip was in the way of me being completely dilated. I laid down on my right side and tried to push through the contractions to get rid of the lip. Bet you can't guess how effective that was!
Yeah, it wasn't.
Next up was the birth stool. I sat on it and breathed through the contractions this time. And in between contractions, it was the breast pump and herbs again.
At one point, I can't remember exactly when, Onica suggested that I lean my back against Mitch's chest with his arms under my armpits for support and kind of squat during the contractions. During one of those contractions, I happened to look to my right and saw Mitch's hand next to my face, with his fingers in a fist and his thumb sticking up. All of a sudden I had the strongest urge to bite his thumb! I thought to myself, "Natalie, that's so weird." and turned my head to the left. But there was his other thumb. And I wanted to bite that too! It was almost an uncontrollable feeling. Although my logical mind knew that was crazy and of course I couldn't bite my husband, it was hilarious how much I really wanted to. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that if I could just chomp down hard on his thumb, it would somehow provide the relief I so desperately wanted.
The next two hours were some of the hardest of my life. No matter what we seemed to try, my cervix would not cooperate. I laid on the bed. I stood up and squatted through contractions. I got on my hands and knees. I sat on the toilet. I got back in bed. I knelt on the bed. I laid on my left side. We used the breast pump between contractions. I took herbs. The midwives tried to help stretch my cervix. Nothing was working!
In the middle of these frustrating hours, I was standing in the bathroom going through a contraction and thought to myself, "We are only having three kids. That is it. No more. I am not doing this again. I never want to go through this again!" And in that moment, I meant it 100%. This labor was starting to feel like some cruel form of torture. The contractions were so strong and sometimes felt unbearable. It felt like I was on this never-ending ride and I would truly never get to the point where I would be able to get off and actually have this baby!
Everyone was so supportive and kind. Every so often I would cry out things like, "I can't do this!" and Mitch or one of the midwives would tell me that I could do this and I was doing it! And then of course, half of the time I would look painfully back at them and say, "No, I really can't!" But somehow I would muster the strength to dig deeper and find a way to keep on keeping on.
Finally, Trina and Onica decided to leave the room and leave Mitch and I alone while I laid on my left side on the bed. I think they figured there was nothing they could really do at that point, and that it would do everyone good to take a break. I felt kind of bothered that they had left the room. Why were they just abandoning me? And to top it off, I could hear their voices in the hallway and it annoyed me that they were out there chatting it up while I was dying through these contractions.
Laying there on the bed felt like deja vu. Why was this happening again? I turned my head to Mitch and whimpered, "I want an epidural!" And my sweet husband replied, "Okay, sweetheart. If that's what you want, we can go to the hospital and get one."
Now, in the far corners of my mind I knew that we wouldn't go to the hospital because the baby could be born in transit. And even if we somehow did make it to the hospital in time, I was pretty sure they don't give epidurals to laboring women who are about ready to push a baby out.
But despite the logic, at that moment all I wanted was to have an epidural. Not so much for the pain relief, but more because I truly thought that if I could just have an epidural, all of the problems I was having would just magically go away. Somehow, my cervix would just dilate fully and pushing this baby out would be so so easy. I just knew the epidural would make everything right.
I was brought rudely back from my delusional thinking with a contraction that I thought was going to do me in. Frustrated that Mitch and I had been abandoned when I was so clearly about to die, I half-groaned, half-yelled out, "I....NEED.....HELP!!!" while death-gripping the headboard,
Back in the room came the women. They must have known what they were doing by stepping out because when Onica and Trina both checked me, Trina's words were music to my ears, "That definitely feels different!" I had a few more contractions during which she held back the cervix and I was complete. Finally!
Now it was time to push. I've always struggled with this part of labor. During both my previous labors I felt like I didn't know "how" to push. It wasn't until one of the last pushes during Elliot's labor that I realized, "That was what a good push should feel like!" I made it a point to really remember that feeling of "pushing out my bottom" so that I could hopefully replicate it again. I had thought a lot during this pregnancy about really being committed to pushing and giving it my all. Since I don't get "the urge" to push, it means that I have to consciously make the choice to push. And that is a really hard choice to make. Because I could just lie there. My body isn't making me do anything (other than experience the lovely pain of each contraction). But instead, I have to consciously decide to do something that I really really don't want to do.
So there I was, laying on the bed. I put my hand on my belly to help me gauge when each contraction was coming on. Then I would call out, "Contraction!" and Onica and Mitch would help me hold up my shaky legs while I curled my shoulders up into a ball and pushed with all my might. It helped so much that I remembered where and how to focus my pushes. After a push, the midwives would say, "Take a quick breath and give another push!" and even though I felt like I had nothing left, their direction would help me to give some more.
Imagine my surprise, when after not very long, I hear, "We can see the head. Baby's got a lot of hair!"
"Really?!" I exclaimed. I was shocked, having been so used to pushing for an hour plus before making any visible progress. That really spurred me on and I tried to keep giving good, strong pushes.
Before I knew it, I was at that moment. The one that seems impossible every. single. time. I will never be able to fully express the way it feels to birth a baby. Partly because it is such an out-of-body moment for me. The pain is so intense for that brief minute in time. My body feels like it is absolutely defying all the laws of science--that there is no physical way for the baby to actually be born. And this time was no different.
In desperation, I gasped out, "Heavenly Father, please help me!" I clung to Mitch's hand for dear life. And then, with those last two final pushes, something in me took over, and all I could do was scream at the top of my lungs.
And then stillness.
And immense relief.
A loud, beautiful cry and a soft, warm, small body placed on my stomach.
A perfect, beautiful baby.
After one big cry, baby made only the cutest soft whimpering noises. "Hello baby. Hi, my sweet baby," I cooed as I stroked his delicate little head and cheeks.
"Do you want to check and see if it is a boy or a girl?" someone asked me. I remembered that as I had been handed the baby I had heard someone refer to "her." Since I had already been thinking for the past week or two that this baby was a girl, I assumed that they had seen the gender and forgotten that we had decided to wait to find out this time around.
So you can imagine my shock when I lifted up the blanket to see that this baby was most definitely not a girl.
"It's a boy?!" I exclaimed. And then repeated probably five times, "It's a boy? I can't believe it! It's a boy!"
"I can't believe I'm crying. I don't know the last time I cried at a birth," Trina laughed as she wiped her eyes.
I delivered the placenta 5 minutes later. It was my easiest and quickest afterbirth. Then 10 minutes after delivery, Mitch cut the umbilical cord and I was able to sit up and really hold our baby.
Then I hopped in the shower (okay, more like gingerly walked) while Mitch held and got to know baby. Can I just say, that I really love being able to get up out of bed right after giving birth and shower, walk around, and feel semi-normal. It kind of makes me feel like a rock-star.
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| Family of Five! |
An hour later we were home. It felt so wonderful to come back to a quiet, dark home with the most precious little boy. I couldn't believe how much I had forgotten about having a newborn! I had forgotten how soft their cries are. So tiny and squeaky and cute that you can't help but almost chuckle every time they let one out. I had forgotten how good it feels to hold them. The way they calm just for you and somehow seem to know you were the one to give them life. And I had forgotten how tricky those pajama snaps can be to button up at 3 o'clock in the morning!
