Last Thursday I had a couple of girlfriends over with their babies for coffee and treats. The day before I had made two pineapple upside down cakes and the meringue bases for pavlovas. Then that morning I made whipped cream and topped them with blueberries. My stand mixer motivated me to do these things. It really made it easy although I wish I had two bowls for it so that I didn't have to wash it so often during the process.
The whole time they were over I was getting so... "OMG I want my baby to come out! Look at your babies!!! I want mine tooooo!" Around 11 am, I felt like some things were going on in my belly but nothing major and I brushed it off. By early evening, I was SURE something was going on but since everything was going so gradually, I didn't think it was going to happen anytime soon.
I took a gravol and went to bed to chit chat with Brent before falling asleep and hopefully waking up refreshed in the morning and ready to give birth. But what ACTUALLY happened? Brent was in bed and was talking about how tired and exhausted he was and how he had so much to do and how many people were depending on him for various things. About 20 minutes in to this conversation I was well aware that I would not be sleeping through these contractions and I was debating how I could possibly tell Brent since he was having a BAD NIGHT.
By about 11:30 we decided it was time to get a move on. There was no pretending this away until morning. Since bobby was asleep, we called my mom to come stay over at our house so he didn't have to be disturbed. Then we called the midwife and the doula to meet us at the hospital. We left as soon as my mom arrived and got to the hospital at 12:30 am.
I got assessed and if I remember correctly (I probably don't) I was at around 3-4cm. Denise, my midwife became the militant walking enforcer and made sure I kept moving around even though all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I made Brent cook me up some toast with peanut butter and I ate that between contractions. We stayed in that assessment room for about 2 hours before I was admitted into a birthing room.
This is the only photo taken during the labour. I'm having a contraction and squatting on the floor while Charmaine (my doula) rubbed my back.
Once we got to the birth room ALL I wanted to do was get in the tub but Denise said no! How maniacal! She attended Bobby's birth so she knows I can labour quickly and didn't want me to relax just yet. My water had still not broken. During this time I decided the best way to deal with contractions was to hang all my weight off of Brent's neck. He didn't even complain! Trooper indeed. Finally Denise agreed that I could go in the tub and I agreed to having her break my water first. I DID NOT enjoy that. Breaking the water was ok actually but then she checked my cervix right after and you know what? I fucking hate having my cervix checked. It sucks. You have to lay still and all I wanted to do was bolt. I'm pretty sure I was yelling "Please stop!" But really it had to be done. I THINK at this point I was 6cm but again, I was focused on other things.
I then went in to the tub. There I leaned my forehead against the side and made weird noises (ask Brent, he can detail them for you) for quite some time. Then I GLORIOUSLY puked and puked and puked. Brent actually was able to stay in the next room during this. I filled about 3 pans plus got some in the water. I think at this time I also pooped in the tub. I was unaware of it but Brent said he saw one in there when I got out and I can't think of any other time where I would not have noticed that happening.
Shortly after that, still in the tub, I was pretty sure I had to push. But really, I didn't. REALLY what I felt during those contractions was the urge to flee. so I assumed I wanted to flee off to the pushing but I hopped on the bed, tried pushing once and it hurt and was just not right. This caused another cervical check and it sadly was not time.
This labour was so different than Bobby's There was so much early labour that I kept thinking I must be done because of how much time went by and because of how tired I was and because of how much more powerful this felt than with Bobby. With Bobby, there was only one time where I 'gave up'. I think I gave up about 5 times during this labour. I was too focused on the end result rather than focusing on facilitating what was happening right then.
Denise lifted the end of the bed to be like a big chair and had me on hands and knees. This is when I felt a big change. Holy shit. This was way more intense than it had ever been with Bobby and I could tell that things were getting going. No one was allowed to touch me or talk to me other than quiet reassurances now and then. Poor Charmaine must have felt like she was useless but I guess what I need most of all during labour is a captive audience that will give me sips of juice whenever I want. I remember grinding my head into the back of the bed as well as actually BITING the mattress.
Finally, my body just decided to push. There was no urge, I didn't try, my body just did it and did it violently. With Bobby I felt like I controlled the pushing but this time I felt like it was just happening and I KNEW it was too hard/fast and I was having a hard time controlling it so I didn't destroy my crotch. I don't think the pushing took very long but it felt like ages. The head came out. Normally after this happens, the baby shimmeis and turns it shoulders and slides out but apparently, Molly came out like a football player of some type (I don't know the positions) and was determined to just push right through whatever was in her way.
Brent later told me I had 'screaming baby crotch' which is when the head it out, and making noise, but the rest is still inside. Isn't that horrifying? I didn't even notice. Out she came at 5:39 am and Brent cut the cord. Brent stayed for a bit then went home so that he could be there when Bobby woke up and to take him to daycare. This is when they did all the measurements. 7lbs 7oz, 21.5" long and a bunch of other details I don't remember. I live tweeted that info.
I had to get stitches. I don't know how many. All I know is that it was a mild 2nd degree tear. I opted to get some laughing gas for the freezing part. The needles are not fun but the gas was pretty ok. They should just pump the birth room full of that I think. I didn't feel the stitched go in too much but now... WHOOO BABY!
Then I nursed her for an HOUR. (Bobby did not latch that well for 3 days!) and napped until Brent came back to get us. We left the hospital for home at about 8:30 am and I wanted an egg mc muffin so we went through the drive through to get one.
Yeah so that's the birth story. It felt pretty brutal and there were moments where I fully understood why women get epidurals. If only every birth were like Bobby's, the world would be a better place. I'll post more about how Bobby has reacted to the arrival of his baby sister during his monthly update post. For now, here are some photos.
Just home from the hospital
2 days old
4 days old
Proud big brother
On this day:
In 2010 -
In 2009 -
In 2008 -
In 2007 - Bernie was a puppy and we had some fake legs
In 2006 - Farts are funny
In 2005 - Tapered jeans