My due date was September 17th, which came and went amidst the flurry of painting, prepping, and moving into our new home. I walked up and down stairs, squatted to clean baseboards, lunged to wash windows, and continued working during the day. I would see patients and they would say, "When are you due?" My replies of "today" or "3 days ago" or "a week ago" were often met with exclamations of, "Oh! Don't have it here!" But not to fear, I felt perfectly fine - not even a hint of a contraction. I started going back to my midwife every 3 days... hooked up to a machine to check baby's heart rate and watch for contractions. I had my membranes swept, was told I was dilated and effaced - first 2cm and 50%, then 4cm and 70%. With the threat of an induction looming on the horizon, I went to the chiropractor for a massage and adjustment. "There are trigger points that can help induce labor, right? DO THEM ALL" I said. It wasn't that I was over being pregnant, honestly I knew I would miss having my little one so close to me. I felt good - I was still working and moving about like normal. But I definitely did not want to end up in a hospital facing a whole list of unknown interventions.
For the past three years I have know that I wanted a home birth. Wendy (Aunt Wendy to Lucy - Dad's sister) brought our attention to the Be Bold movement and Chris directed a play called "Birth" in support of the Iowa Midwives. Wendy and I both were in the play and we learned a TON about women's birth choices... I will go into "why home birth" in a different post, but this post is all about my own home birth.
Thursday night after visiting the chiropractor and midwife, Chris and I went to our new house to clean and move a few more things in. We hadn't actually slept over at our new home yet, but decided that this was the night. Friday we decided to run a few errands and buy some things we needed for the new house... Between the bathmats and batteries at Target, contractions started. They weren't that bad so we kept walking around and doing our thing. I tried not to get too excited, knowing the could stop or that it could still be a long way away from "go time". We kept trucking along and I tried to convince Chris that we needed to go look at a new stove. He instead convinced me to call our MUSIC THERAPIST - doula, Kate Taylor. "Kate, I've been having these contractions..." I started out. Kate urged us to go home and time contractions. We had to stop at Jewel first... if I was going into labor we would need food in our house for ourselves and for midwives, our doula and anyone else who may be around. Of course we didn't have a stove either... I think Chris took total advantage of my contractions/laborious state and purchased a 24 pack of pepperoni hot pockets. I DO NOT like pepperoni.
Back at home we labored and hung out, Kate came to meet us and check in on me. At 10 minutes apart we thought we were well on our way to having a baby. But! around 9pm contractions completely stopped. I mean, NOTHING was happening. Nada. Nein. I would be lying if I said I was ok with this. Yes, I trusted my body - but I was frustrated. I went to bed that night sad, impatient, and praying that things would get going again. I did NOT want to end up in the hospital on Monday.
The next morning Chris and I went on a walk with Ellie. We decided to check out our new neighborhood before the contractor came over to put in the dishwasher. We met new neighbors and new dogs, checked out a fabulous new park, and impatiently noticed that contractions were simply not happening. About 10am we crawled back into bed and prayed. I prayed and prayed that labor would start, that I would meet my baby soon. I sang comforting songs from youth ministry days and Monmouth College spiritual life retreats. We talked about how we would be parents soon. I soon devised a rotation of baby inducing efforts. I did cat cow yoga stretches, sat on the birth ball, and other fun labor starting activities. Chris went to help the contractor hooking up our dishwasher and returned to me jumping and singing on the bed (Aunt Alexis' suggestion).
Later, as contractions were coming but irregular I talked with Kate on the phone and she asked about what it was that I was holding onto, what was holding me back. She got me thinking and as I sat on the birth ball alone in my living room I again turned to prayer. Asking for forgiveness, for strength, peace, and blessings. I asked Mother Mary and every saint I could think of for their prayers and support. I implored the angels to be with me and to wrap my baby in love and safety. Chris came in from outside and joined me. We held each other in a sort of dance with the afternoon sun in our new home. Contractions picked back up and were getting into full swing. Even though they would hurt and I would catch my breath and say "Thank you". I was grateful for each contractions bringing my baby, grateful for my husband who was a rock, grateful for my body which felt more powerful than I could have imagined.
Eventually, Kate came and walked into me laying on the couch crying. It might have been a transition where contractions were increasingly painful, or the emotions of the day. She encouraged me to get up and trying something new to deal with the pain, but I first wanted to talk to my Mom. I really have no idea what time of night I called her, although it had to be before 9 because the midwives were not there yet. In tears, I doubted myself and told her, "Mom, I can't do this." Now, weeks ago the midwife had said that many laboring moms want to call their mom at some point. I hadn't been sure that I would want to, just because I thought I had mentally prepared and had a fantastic support system in Chris but she was right. Calling my Mom was one of the best things I did that night. She was perfect. My Mom can be the perfect mix of strong and sympathetic. Emotional and encouraging. Just hearing her voice reminded me that I wasn't alone, that she and so many other women had done this before and that I could do it too. I felt empowered again. No one will ever love you the way your Mom loves you.
Kate was a perfect addition to the birth. She got the music playing, got me on the birth ball, and helped me vocalize in a productive way. I would be lying if I said I wasn't vocal... I was, I was LOUD. We worked on deep moans with a open relaxed jaw (your jaw is in direct relation with your cervix and opening my relaxed mouth apparently would help my body open as well). Chris worried thinking about our peoples reactions to the noises coming from their new neighbors home. But he was smart enough not to suggest I quiet down.
Kate encouraged me to try out a shower, in which I instantly felt better and more relaxed. I sat on the edge of the tub, knelt on the floor, or lent against the wall just enjoying the soothing warm water. We had the brilliant idea of putting the birth ball in the tub, and I tried to position it so that the stream of water would hit my back. Chris and Kate were outside the bathroom when they heard a thud and my own laughter. Chris came in asking if I was ok, to which I replied "Yes" but that I needed a little help. He pulled back the shower curtain to find me on my butt, water spraying me in the face, and my (huge) pregnant self wedged between the wall and the birth ball. Apparently a rubber ball is slippery when wet and when I tried to sit down I slid right off. I couldn't help but laugh and I remember remarking that this was likely the sexiest thing my husband had ever seen.
Hilary (our midwife) had the 4-1-1 rule... she would come when contractions were 4 minutes apart, 1 minute long, and those two criteria had been going on for 1 hour. Chris had called to talk to her what seemed like a million times that night, and finally she said she was on her way. At 9pm Hilary and Mara (Hilary's midwifery student and aid for the evening) arrived at our house. Chris and Kate had set up the tub in the living room. I was currently on the couch but had been transitioning between bedroom, couch, and bathroom. I felt a sense of relief having them there, and when they checked my progress I was thrilled to learn I was 7cm dilated and 100% effaced. I remember looking at Chris and remarking that our baby was going to be born today, September 29th. But the time flew by, I was in and out of the birth tub, walking around, sitting on the toilet/birth ball/Chris' lap. I was so lucky in that I was able to do anything I wanted. I was the boss, this was MY birth, MY body and I could do what my body wanted. There were some funny moments, Chris says I didn't lose my sense of humor... or sarcasm. And there were touching moments, as I had gotten to the point where I was starting to push and Ellie decided to check things out. She had been fairly uninterested up until then, but she walked up to the edge of the pool to check on me. I was leaning over the side and could press my head against hers and rub her ears. I couldn't help but think of all the times I was lonely, or angry, or depressed and was able to curl up with her and cry.
Through the course of the "pushing phase" I walked around a fair bit. They encouraged Chris and I to lay down and rest earlier but I couldn't. I let Chris have a short nap but the contractions were so close together there wouldn't be sleep for me. Everyone encouraged me to walk up and down the stairs but I was stubborn and refused. Instead I walked through the apartment, Mara and/or Kate at my side, often Chris following right behind so that if I bent into a squat/sit to push he would be my support. I literally sat on his legs as he did a squat in midair to hold me. When I say he was with me every step of the way, I mean it literally. Later we would go to the chiropractor and find that ever area in which my body was misaligned from the birth, his was too. I don't think there is another man in the world like him. And I only really got testy with him once, asking him not to touch me because I was just too hot. He really is amazing.
I was coming to the end of my rope... I had already told everyone to figure something else out, that I couldn't do this. I asked for "something" to ease the pain... not knowing what in the world that "something" could be, maybe a Tylenol? Ha ha. It was now the very early part of Sunday morning. September 29th had come and gone. I had been pushing for what felt like forever. There were times when I'd get pumped up saying "I can do this" but I'd get worn down again. Kate was so perfect, she knew the best places to touch or massage... and the best things to say to me. She looked at me and told me how proud she was, how awesome I had been doing. She reminded me that in the hospital I would have been deemed a "failure to progress" but that I had worked through that - fought through that. She encouraged me. They had me reach down and feel my baby, the top of her head soft and oh so close to coming out. I was ready to really push. Hilary told me to go to bed (the birth pool had been given up on as it relaxed me too much and slowed contractions). I remember telling her I didn't want to and her explaining that giving birth into a toilet was less than ideal and a very difficult way for her to catch my baby. Given that compelling argument, I crawled into bed with my husband by my side. Mara stationed herself at one leg, Kate at the other, Hilary waiting for the baby.
It was amazing to me to have to learn how to push. I would push push push but nothing would happen. I had to figure out how to push the right way. I told Hilary she could just, "reach in there and pull this baby out" but she told me this was my birth, and only I could birth this baby. Even though I was tired and maybe ready to give up, that simple realization that only I could do this was just as encouraging. This was my job, to bring this little person into the world. They encouraged me to feel her head again, although I was scared I'd reach down and not feel her any closer than she was the last time, I placed my hand on the top of her head. She was so close to being in my arms! Only a few pushes later and then in seconds she was on my chest. Oh my goodness she had SO MUCH HAIR! I asked if she was a boy or girl, Hilary informed us that that was our job to find out. Chris made the call... "It's a girl, I think". He cut her umbilical cord, and We sat together, just us three..Hilary, Kate, and Mara swirled around us cleaning, checking, data-collecting...but it was just us, our family, in our bed, in our house. I was shocked, here she was! It was her, it was my little Lucy. I had thought about being a mom my entire life, and in what felt like seconds (42 weeks, 36 hours of labor, 4 hours of pushing... but seconds) and here she was. Chris and I just wanted to lay there and look at her forever.
Chris went out to make phone calls to announce her arrival to the world. I had a few stitches and I laugh now remembering the pang of fear that came when I saw Hilary's needle - despite the fact that I had just lived through giving birth. Mara and Hilary walked me to the bathroom, helped me clean up, and checked on my sweet girl. Kate left to get home to her own children, one of whom desperately (for Kate's sake) needed to be breastfed. She updated her Facebook status saying,
It had gotten cold suddenly, like fall was really here. The air was crisp and invigorating. The moon was huge, as full as can be and the sun on the brink of rising as Lucy came into the world. It was the beginning of our brand new story...
For the past three years I have know that I wanted a home birth. Wendy (Aunt Wendy to Lucy - Dad's sister) brought our attention to the Be Bold movement and Chris directed a play called "Birth" in support of the Iowa Midwives. Wendy and I both were in the play and we learned a TON about women's birth choices... I will go into "why home birth" in a different post, but this post is all about my own home birth.
Thursday night after visiting the chiropractor and midwife, Chris and I went to our new house to clean and move a few more things in. We hadn't actually slept over at our new home yet, but decided that this was the night. Friday we decided to run a few errands and buy some things we needed for the new house... Between the bathmats and batteries at Target, contractions started. They weren't that bad so we kept walking around and doing our thing. I tried not to get too excited, knowing the could stop or that it could still be a long way away from "go time". We kept trucking along and I tried to convince Chris that we needed to go look at a new stove. He instead convinced me to call our MUSIC THERAPIST - doula, Kate Taylor. "Kate, I've been having these contractions..." I started out. Kate urged us to go home and time contractions. We had to stop at Jewel first... if I was going into labor we would need food in our house for ourselves and for midwives, our doula and anyone else who may be around. Of course we didn't have a stove either... I think Chris took total advantage of my contractions/laborious state and purchased a 24 pack of pepperoni hot pockets. I DO NOT like pepperoni.
Back at home we labored and hung out, Kate came to meet us and check in on me. At 10 minutes apart we thought we were well on our way to having a baby. But! around 9pm contractions completely stopped. I mean, NOTHING was happening. Nada. Nein. I would be lying if I said I was ok with this. Yes, I trusted my body - but I was frustrated. I went to bed that night sad, impatient, and praying that things would get going again. I did NOT want to end up in the hospital on Monday.
The next morning Chris and I went on a walk with Ellie. We decided to check out our new neighborhood before the contractor came over to put in the dishwasher. We met new neighbors and new dogs, checked out a fabulous new park, and impatiently noticed that contractions were simply not happening. About 10am we crawled back into bed and prayed. I prayed and prayed that labor would start, that I would meet my baby soon. I sang comforting songs from youth ministry days and Monmouth College spiritual life retreats. We talked about how we would be parents soon. I soon devised a rotation of baby inducing efforts. I did cat cow yoga stretches, sat on the birth ball, and other fun labor starting activities. Chris went to help the contractor hooking up our dishwasher and returned to me jumping and singing on the bed (Aunt Alexis' suggestion).
Later, as contractions were coming but irregular I talked with Kate on the phone and she asked about what it was that I was holding onto, what was holding me back. She got me thinking and as I sat on the birth ball alone in my living room I again turned to prayer. Asking for forgiveness, for strength, peace, and blessings. I asked Mother Mary and every saint I could think of for their prayers and support. I implored the angels to be with me and to wrap my baby in love and safety. Chris came in from outside and joined me. We held each other in a sort of dance with the afternoon sun in our new home. Contractions picked back up and were getting into full swing. Even though they would hurt and I would catch my breath and say "Thank you". I was grateful for each contractions bringing my baby, grateful for my husband who was a rock, grateful for my body which felt more powerful than I could have imagined.
Eventually, Kate came and walked into me laying on the couch crying. It might have been a transition where contractions were increasingly painful, or the emotions of the day. She encouraged me to get up and trying something new to deal with the pain, but I first wanted to talk to my Mom. I really have no idea what time of night I called her, although it had to be before 9 because the midwives were not there yet. In tears, I doubted myself and told her, "Mom, I can't do this." Now, weeks ago the midwife had said that many laboring moms want to call their mom at some point. I hadn't been sure that I would want to, just because I thought I had mentally prepared and had a fantastic support system in Chris but she was right. Calling my Mom was one of the best things I did that night. She was perfect. My Mom can be the perfect mix of strong and sympathetic. Emotional and encouraging. Just hearing her voice reminded me that I wasn't alone, that she and so many other women had done this before and that I could do it too. I felt empowered again. No one will ever love you the way your Mom loves you.
Kate was a perfect addition to the birth. She got the music playing, got me on the birth ball, and helped me vocalize in a productive way. I would be lying if I said I wasn't vocal... I was, I was LOUD. We worked on deep moans with a open relaxed jaw (your jaw is in direct relation with your cervix and opening my relaxed mouth apparently would help my body open as well). Chris worried thinking about our peoples reactions to the noises coming from their new neighbors home. But he was smart enough not to suggest I quiet down.
Kate encouraged me to try out a shower, in which I instantly felt better and more relaxed. I sat on the edge of the tub, knelt on the floor, or lent against the wall just enjoying the soothing warm water. We had the brilliant idea of putting the birth ball in the tub, and I tried to position it so that the stream of water would hit my back. Chris and Kate were outside the bathroom when they heard a thud and my own laughter. Chris came in asking if I was ok, to which I replied "Yes" but that I needed a little help. He pulled back the shower curtain to find me on my butt, water spraying me in the face, and my (huge) pregnant self wedged between the wall and the birth ball. Apparently a rubber ball is slippery when wet and when I tried to sit down I slid right off. I couldn't help but laugh and I remember remarking that this was likely the sexiest thing my husband had ever seen.
Hilary (our midwife) had the 4-1-1 rule... she would come when contractions were 4 minutes apart, 1 minute long, and those two criteria had been going on for 1 hour. Chris had called to talk to her what seemed like a million times that night, and finally she said she was on her way. At 9pm Hilary and Mara (Hilary's midwifery student and aid for the evening) arrived at our house. Chris and Kate had set up the tub in the living room. I was currently on the couch but had been transitioning between bedroom, couch, and bathroom. I felt a sense of relief having them there, and when they checked my progress I was thrilled to learn I was 7cm dilated and 100% effaced. I remember looking at Chris and remarking that our baby was going to be born today, September 29th. But the time flew by, I was in and out of the birth tub, walking around, sitting on the toilet/birth ball/Chris' lap. I was so lucky in that I was able to do anything I wanted. I was the boss, this was MY birth, MY body and I could do what my body wanted. There were some funny moments, Chris says I didn't lose my sense of humor... or sarcasm. And there were touching moments, as I had gotten to the point where I was starting to push and Ellie decided to check things out. She had been fairly uninterested up until then, but she walked up to the edge of the pool to check on me. I was leaning over the side and could press my head against hers and rub her ears. I couldn't help but think of all the times I was lonely, or angry, or depressed and was able to curl up with her and cry.
Through the course of the "pushing phase" I walked around a fair bit. They encouraged Chris and I to lay down and rest earlier but I couldn't. I let Chris have a short nap but the contractions were so close together there wouldn't be sleep for me. Everyone encouraged me to walk up and down the stairs but I was stubborn and refused. Instead I walked through the apartment, Mara and/or Kate at my side, often Chris following right behind so that if I bent into a squat/sit to push he would be my support. I literally sat on his legs as he did a squat in midair to hold me. When I say he was with me every step of the way, I mean it literally. Later we would go to the chiropractor and find that ever area in which my body was misaligned from the birth, his was too. I don't think there is another man in the world like him. And I only really got testy with him once, asking him not to touch me because I was just too hot. He really is amazing.
I was coming to the end of my rope... I had already told everyone to figure something else out, that I couldn't do this. I asked for "something" to ease the pain... not knowing what in the world that "something" could be, maybe a Tylenol? Ha ha. It was now the very early part of Sunday morning. September 29th had come and gone. I had been pushing for what felt like forever. There were times when I'd get pumped up saying "I can do this" but I'd get worn down again. Kate was so perfect, she knew the best places to touch or massage... and the best things to say to me. She looked at me and told me how proud she was, how awesome I had been doing. She reminded me that in the hospital I would have been deemed a "failure to progress" but that I had worked through that - fought through that. She encouraged me. They had me reach down and feel my baby, the top of her head soft and oh so close to coming out. I was ready to really push. Hilary told me to go to bed (the birth pool had been given up on as it relaxed me too much and slowed contractions). I remember telling her I didn't want to and her explaining that giving birth into a toilet was less than ideal and a very difficult way for her to catch my baby. Given that compelling argument, I crawled into bed with my husband by my side. Mara stationed herself at one leg, Kate at the other, Hilary waiting for the baby.
It was amazing to me to have to learn how to push. I would push push push but nothing would happen. I had to figure out how to push the right way. I told Hilary she could just, "reach in there and pull this baby out" but she told me this was my birth, and only I could birth this baby. Even though I was tired and maybe ready to give up, that simple realization that only I could do this was just as encouraging. This was my job, to bring this little person into the world. They encouraged me to feel her head again, although I was scared I'd reach down and not feel her any closer than she was the last time, I placed my hand on the top of her head. She was so close to being in my arms! Only a few pushes later and then in seconds she was on my chest. Oh my goodness she had SO MUCH HAIR! I asked if she was a boy or girl, Hilary informed us that that was our job to find out. Chris made the call... "It's a girl, I think". He cut her umbilical cord, and We sat together, just us three..Hilary, Kate, and Mara swirled around us cleaning, checking, data-collecting...but it was just us, our family, in our bed, in our house. I was shocked, here she was! It was her, it was my little Lucy. I had thought about being a mom my entire life, and in what felt like seconds (42 weeks, 36 hours of labor, 4 hours of pushing... but seconds) and here she was. Chris and I just wanted to lay there and look at her forever.
Chris went out to make phone calls to announce her arrival to the world. I had a few stitches and I laugh now remembering the pang of fear that came when I saw Hilary's needle - despite the fact that I had just lived through giving birth. Mara and Hilary walked me to the bathroom, helped me clean up, and checked on my sweet girl. Kate left to get home to her own children, one of whom desperately (for Kate's sake) needed to be breastfed. She updated her Facebook status saying,
"I was so thankful for the light of day today! After douling the LONGEST.HOMEBIRTH.EVER, I got to drive home with the sunrise at my back and the fullness of the moon in my sight. By the grace of GOD, baby girl "L" was finally birthed into this world at 4:44 a.m. After nearly 36 hours of labor on and off and four hours of pushing, baby girl, her marathon momma and her courageous dad are resting together. If I have missed your call or lapsed on my commitments to any of you my dear friends, God placed me exactly where I was needed. Time.to.sleep.for.a.week."
It had gotten cold suddenly, like fall was really here. The air was crisp and invigorating. The moon was huge, as full as can be and the sun on the brink of rising as Lucy came into the world. It was the beginning of our brand new story...
Lucille Kathleen
4:44am - September 30
6 pound 9 ounces - 20.5 inches long
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3 comments:
Annie, this is so beautiful. Congratulations to you and Chris, and a belated welcome to little Lucy. <3
absolutely beautiful. a new story, indeed. so proud of you, girl!
Annie, I read this when you posted it, but never commented for some crazy reason. Thank you for sharing this story. It's beautiful. I cannot imagine myself ever being strong enough to go through what you did. But it sounds like an incredible experience, and your daughter is so beautiful.
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