Laura's birth story - January 2017

Laura Rose Wahlund

1/21/2017, 12:28pm

7lb 13oz, 20.75 in long

My entire pregnancy with Laura was fraught with anxiety due to our two previous losses. While I felt slightly less anxious with each positive milestone that we passed, I never was really able to settle down. As my pregnancy drew closer to full-term, I began feeling increasing anxiety about labor and delivery. I was worried that my labor would go so fast that we wouldn't make it to the hospital in time, and that we'd have an unplanned home birth or car birth (this fear stemmed from the fact that Peter's birth as very nearly an unplanned car birth). I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle he the pain of labor, despite having had five unmedicated births. I was worried that something would go wrong during labor -- hemorrhaging, or placental abruption, or a host of other maladies -- and we would lose the baby. And so on.

I turned to birth affirmations and prayer to help soothe my fears. Every time a fearful thought would enter my head, I would tell myself, "Fear and anxiety are not of God. Get thee behind me, Satan." This strategy helped, but only somewhat.

I started having prodromal labor around week 37. The one day in January I didn't want to give birth was January 13 -- Elanor's 12th birthday -- so I was pretty convinced that was when I'd go into labor. Sure enough, I started having contractions the evening of the 11th and hardly slept at all that night. The contractions weren't terribly strong or regular, but occasionally they would wake me up.

I called in sick to work and kept timing contractions throughout the morning, and I sent the following text to my doula, Laura (the same doula we had for Peter's birth), at 9:38am on January 12:

"I was up all night with contractions 10 to 15 minutes apart... not terribly intense but I think I was just too anxious to sleep. They slowed down around 5am, but seem to be picking up again. They are about 20 minutes apart at the moment, not very intense, about 30 to 45 seconds long. I have a midwife appointment at 10:45; I might might checked to see if I have made any progress. Will text you if things pick up more."

I ate a high-protein english muffin with peanut butter and drank a labor-inducing smoothie. Collin stayed home from work as well, just in case, and I was grateful to have his company. We went to my appointment, and I requested a cervical exam. I was dilated to a 3, 80% effaced, and baby was at -2 station. My cervix was posterior still. I was excited because I'd only ever been dilated to a 2 prior to the onset of labor, so it seemed to me that this might be the real thing. Still, my midwife cautioned that it could easily be prodromal labor. She recommended that I go home and try to nap -- taking some Unisom or a warm bath to relax if needed. I was exhausted so that sounded like a good idea to me!

After I woke up from that nap, contractions were still coming but they were still pretty weak. Collin and I decided to walk to our sons' daycare to pick them up, instead of driving, in order to see if the walking would help strengthen contractions. We did so, walking a total of 1.4 miles, and after we got home contractions did seem to be picking up. They were coming every 10 minutes and lasting 1 minute.

Accordingly, we called my FIL to come and stay with the kids, and set off towards the hospital. It was premature, perhaps, but given Peter's fast birth, we didn't want to take any chances. I had contractions every 10 minutes on the way there, and had a pretty strong one in the drive-thru of the Burger King across the street from the hospital (Collin wanted to grab some supper quickly -- I'd eaten prior to leaving the house, but he hadn't).

We walked through the doors of the hospital... and contractions STOPPED. It was like my body suddenly flipped a switch from "labor" to "not labor." Even so, we went through the whole rigamarole of being checked into L&D triage, being checked (no changed from that morning), and I stayed on the monitors for about 20 minutes. We spent an hour or two walking in the hospital grounds to see if contractions picked up again, which they didn't, and I was checked again. Still dilated to a 3 and 80% effaced. We were discharged and went home.

So, I didn't have the baby on Ellie's birthday... which I was glad about, but at the same time I was rather peeved about the false alarm. I was tired of being pregnant and so anxious to meet this baby.

Fast forward to Sunday night (January 15). Around 10 or 11pm, I started feeling REALLY strange. I wasn't having any contractions, but I was experiencing labor like signs - upset stomach, very shaky, and alternating between hot and cold. It felt like I was either having a panic attack or in transition. I was pretty sure that I wasn't in transition given that I wasn't having contractions, but I worried it meant that something was wrong. We decided to go to L&D triage, just in case. We called my FIL to watch the kids again, and arrived at the hospital just before 2:00am.

There was no cervical change from my last appointment, but our doula came anyway just in case things changed. Baby looked and sounded great on the monitor, which was a relief, and after a while the symptoms subsided and I felt better. We never did figure out what had happened -- our best theories right now are that I had a panic attack or perhaps suffered a very mild case of food poisoning. (We'd eaten at a restaurant with Collin's mother and grandparents earlier that day, and apparently Collin's grandfather experienced similar symptoms the same night.) At 4:50am, we went home.

The next few days were difficult and frustrating because of continual prodromal labor. I had an appointment with my OB on Thursday the 19th, 39w3d, and I was was 3-4 centimeters, 80% effaced. With my consent, he stripped my membranes, hoping to stimulate labor. I'd never had a membrane sweep before. It was very uncomfortable, but not painful.

The next day, I started losing my mucous plug, which was an encouraging sign. With all of the other kids, I had the baby within 24 hours of losing my plug (some within 12 hours). I had irregular contractions 20-30 minutes apart all day. Even after a bath and hydrating with plenty of Laborade, contractions kept coming. I couldn't sleep and wasn't hungry. Finally, around midnight, I called Collin. He was at his weekly Dungeons and Dragons game, and would have been home shortly, but I told him I'd prefer if he came home immediately because the contractions seemed to be getting closer together, and I'd feel better if he was here. He immediately packed up and came home, calling his dad on the way and asking him to come and watch the kids (again). My FIL was such a saint that week for putting up with the middle-of-the-night calls! We eventually made the decision to go into L&D yet again, and called Laura to ask her to meet us there.

We arrived around 1:20am. Contractions were about 7 minutes apart, but getting stronger. An exam showed I hadn’t had much change from my appointment on Thursday, and was still 4 centimeters and 80% effaced. However, with contractions that were persistent, the nurse suggested that we walk and be checked again in an hour or two. Laura arrived at the hospital around 2:00am.

We walked the halls, rested while Laura tried some acupressure spots, and returned to L&D for an exam at 4:30am. The nurse said my cervix was slowly changing, as I was now at 5 centimeters. Amanda, the CNM from my practice who on call, agreed to admit us to the natural birthing suite in the hospital. I was happy to hear that she was the one on call, as I've known her for several years and she had been so helpful and supportive when I lost Francis in June of 2015.

The natural birthing suites were brand new, and had just opened for business around Thanksgiving. Four rooms had been outfitted with a full-size bed with memory foam mattresses, and there was an option to buy an inflatable tub (we declined, as we preferred the jacuzzi tub already in the room -- you couldn't birth in the tubs, otherwise we might have gone with that option).

I labored for a few more hours, getting more and more frustrated. Contractions were not getting closer together. They stayed at around 7 minutes apart, and the intensity wasn't changing either. I tried to rest, and laid in bed with Collin for about an hour (those memory foam mattresses were SO NICE), but the contractions were just strong enough to prevent sleeping. We walked down to the hospital cafeteria to have some breakfast (I had bacon, eggs, and juice) but that didn't help either. Once we returned to the room, I tried sitting in the shower for a while, but the apparatus to hold the removable shower head in a fixed position above the tub was broken, so Collin had to manually hold it -- not fun for either of us. We also joked about asking Laura to leave the room and trying more intimate ways to kick labor into gear (that bed was REALLY nice, after all), but decided against it. ;)

I was checked again at 8:30am, and was only 6 centimeters. Contractions were still only 7-10 minutes apart, only lasting about a minute. At that point, I felt utterly defeated. I was exhausted from the long night, as well as the preceding weeks of prodromal labor. I started sobbing and told both Collin and Laura that I simply could not handle a full day of slow labor. I was too tired. I wanted an epidural and pitocin to move things along.

Both Collin and Laura knew that my birth plan specified that I did not want an epidural or pitocin unless medically necessary, so they both tried to encourage me toward other, more natural methods of speeding up labor. Laura suggested trying herbal tinctures or perhaps castor oil (Laura, in addition to being a doula, is also a Certified Professional Midwife, and thus very knowledgable about what to use to speed up a slow labor), but I was resistant. I didn't want to keep puttering along for the next day, trying one thing after another. I was too tired to keep walking. I felt like I had no more energy left. I kept sobbing, insisting that I wanted an epidural and pitocin, in that order. Collin reminded me that we'd have to move to a different L&D room for those options, but I didn't care. At that moment, even a C-section sounded good to me.

Finally, Laura suggested calling in the midwife and discussing our options with her. Amanda was doing rounds, but made it to our room about 15-20 minutes after we asked to speak with her. She came in and noticed right away how upset I was. She pulled up a chair across from me, took my hand, and asked me to tell her how I was feeling.

I kept sobbing and told her what I had been telling Laura and Collin for the past twenty minutes. I was too tired to go on. I wanted an epidural and pitocin because I could not keep going.

Amanda let me cry for a minute, and then she quietly asked if she could pray with me. I was surprised -- it isn't a suggestion that you usually hear from a doctor or midwife in a secular hospital -- but I readily agreed. So Collin, Laura, Amanda, and I (and maybe one of the nurses as well, I can't remember) bowed our heads in prayer. Even now I can't remember the exact words of the prayer, but I know she prayed for strength for me, and for discernment and wisdom for all of us as we decided what steps to take next.

After praying, we discussed options. Amanda said that she felt I was experiencing heightened anxiety and fear due to my previous miscarriages (very true), so we needed to be sure that we didn't make any decisions based on anxiety and fear. While an epidural and pitocin weren't out of the question if that's what I truly wanted, she knew me and knew my passion for natural childbirth, and encouraged me to try some other strategies first, just so we would know that we had exhausted our options before resorting to medication.

In the end, Amanda proposed doing a vigorous sweep of my membranes to see if that would make contractions stronger and closer together. She suggested that I get into the tub, turn on the jets, and try to relax as much as possible, because it was possible that stress and anxiety were keeping my labor from progressing. She promised to return in an hour or so and at that time we could re-evaluate, and perhaps break my water to speed things along if baby was low enough.

Somewhat reluctantly, I agreed. She did the vigorous membrane sweep (and boy, she was not joking when she said it'd be vigorous), and I got into the jacuzzi. Laura dimmed the lights and turned on my iPhone's "Labor" playlist. Collin pulled up a chair and sat next to the tub. Laura suggested that he try nipple stimulation while I was resting, because that might help too.

So, for the next two hours, that's what we did -- and it worked. (Mad props to Collin, because he did nipple stimulation for two hours straight -- poor guy, his hands must have been sore!) Contractions sped up and got closer together. I started needing to vocalize through them, which took the form of saying "Ooooooooopen, ooooooooooooopen" over and over, as I tried to visualize my cervix opening up. 

Around 11am I announced my intention to open a cause for canonization for the inventor of the Jacuzzi (He was Italian, so he was probably Catholic!) as at that point, I was begging both Jesus and Mary to be with me and help me get through labor. I made it a point to offer up my contractions for specific prayer intentions (I'd asked friends on Facebook to give me intentions to pray for a few weeks previously).

Amanda came in about 11:10 (according to my doula's notes) and did a cervical exam. She did it while I was still in the tub! I was so grateful I didn't have to get out. I was 8cm! I was also starting to get those panicky, "I don't think I can do this anymore" feelings that indicate transition. I stayed in the tub for about half an hour longer, until I started feeling enormous pressure.  I had to leave the tub (to my great displeasure), but I was given the green light to start pushing.

I was hoping the pushing stage would be similar to previous births, in that I'd push twice and baby would be here, but alas -- it was not to be. I tried laying on my side and also going on my hands and knees. They cranked up the head of the bed and I leaned against that, and pushed that way for a while. I was peeing and pooping all over the place because baby was putting pressure on my bladder and rectum, but it still seemed to take forever for baby to descend. At some point, my water broke, but it probably happened while I was peeing so no one noticed. (Gross, right?) We only realized it had happened when Amanda checked baby's station and could feel hair instead of the amniotic sac.  

Finally I announced, "I can't push like this anymore!" and turned over so I was sitting up. Finally, things started to happen. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed again, and finally baby's head was born. Amanda quickly told me to stop pushing -- she wanted to ease baby out so I wouldn't tear -- and then instructed me to push again, more slowly. With one final push, baby was born at 12:28pm. I'd only pushed for 40 minutes, but it had seemed like 40 hours. 

My doula took a video of the actual birth, but I haven't watched it yet. I may add it to this story at some point, but I haven't decided if I want that online yet -- from what she tells me, it doesn't leave much to the imagination. :) 

The baby was put on my chest immediately, and I was crying in relief that it was finally all over. Unlike previous births, this time I looked for myself to see the gender, and burst into fresh tears of joy when I saw that we had a baby girl. I'd felt she was a girl all along, and I'd been hoping for a girl so that we'd have three girls and three boys. 

We told Amanda and the nurses that her name was Laura Rose. (The fact that our doula's name was Laura was a happy coincidence -- you can read the reason we chose her name at the end of this story.)  She laid on my chest as we waited for the cord to stop pulsing. I tried to latch her onto my nipple but it was a little difficult due to the position I was in -- I'd ended up nearly flat on my back as I was pushing (my choice). I did eventually get her latched on, but I think it wasn't until after I birthed the placenta and the cord was cut.

Unfortunately, despite having taken alfalfa supplements since 34 weeks to reduce chances of postpartum hemorrhage (as I did with Peter), I had heavy bleeding and was passing large clots.  Apparently this isn't uncommon with moms who have had six or more births. Amanda explained her concerns and asked for my permission to administer pitocin and methergine, and I consented to both. They did help slow the bleeding. 

Happily, unlike four of my other births, I did not have a second degree tear! I had torn very slightly, but it was so small that I only needed one stitch. Amanda numbed the area with a shot of lidocaine and put in the stitch. 

Amazingly, other than the lidocaine, pitocin, and methergine, I didn't need any other medication during my stay -- not even acetaminophen or ibuprofen. My afterbirth pains were minimal and I had very little discomfort from my tiny tear. Laura nursed very well from the start, and our hospital stay was uneventful. We were discharged from the hospital on my due date, January 23.

I have mixed feelings about this labor. I was glad, in the end, that I did it unmedicated, but at the same time the slower pace was very mentally difficult and exhausting for me. As always, though, the moment she arrived was absolutely incredible, and she was worth every minute of the pain.

I am grateful for my rockstar care providers, though -- I could not have gotten through this birth without my midwife Amanda: 

Nor could I have managed without our doula, Laura (if you're in the Phoenix metro area, I highly recommend her as a labor doula or a homebirth midwife!). 

You can read about why we chose her name here (we didn't name her after our doula - that was just a happy coincidence!).

Baby Laura Rose is so sweet and so beautiful -- I am so in awe of how God has blessed us. And she's a big hit with her older siblings! :)

Peter's birth story - October 2013

The birth story of Peter David
10/07/13, 4:27am MST
Weight: 9lbs, 0oz; Length: 20.5 in.

I had prodromal labor for weeks leading up to Peter's birth, starting around 38 weeks. On two separate days I had contractions that were 30-45 seconds long and coming 10-20 minutes apart, for twelve hours. As soon as I went to bed, they'd stop. As my due date approached, I was getting more and more frustrated. I was huge, uncomfortable, constantly exhausted, and sick of working. (I started working from home full-time at 37 weeks, so thankfully there wasn't a 90-mile round-trip commute on top of it.) 

I was also experiencing bouts of insomnia, to the point where Collin called in sick to work on October 5 because I'd been awake since 3am for the third night in a row, and I was too exhausted to function. He took all the kids out of the house to let me have a day of complete rest; I took a three-hour nap and spent the rest of the day watching episodes of One Born Every Minute on YouTube.

I really didn't want to go to work the next week, so I was trying every natural labor induction method I knew to get things started - sex, walking, evening primrose oil. I also whipped up a batch of Labor-Inducing Cookies and ate about 6 of them. (I normally don't like spicy food but these gingersnaps were delicious - I plan on making them even when I don't need to induce labor.) 

On October 6, we walked to and from church in hopes of getting things going, but nothing happened. Around 4pm, I decided to try what had worked with Violet - castor oil. In fact, I still had the same bottle I'd bought while pregnant with her. I figured if my body wasn't ready, it wouldn't work, but it was worth a try given that it'd worked once before. I mixed a tablespoon with eight ounces of orange juice and a teaspoon of baking soda.

A few hours later, I was losing my mucous plug (a sign, for me, that has always meant baby's arrival within 24 hours) and having steady but weak, painless contractions. I took a warm bath with Epsom salts, and while the contractions kept coming, they weren't getting stronger or closer together. Collin and I discussed bringing the kids over to my brother-in-law's place just in case, but decided against it in case it was another false alarm. (In hindsight, this was the wrong decision.)

We went to bed around midnight, and I fell asleep. I woke up at 3am on the dot, and my first thought was, "Darn it, I guess it was just prodromal labor after all." Then I had a contraction, and it hurt. 

I had another one a few minutes later. It also hurt.

When the third one came around, I woke up Collin and said, "Call Laura [our doula]. I think it's the real thing this time." Originally we told her to come to our house, but we quickly changed our minds and called her back, telling her to meet us at the hospital instead.

The contractions kept coming, and coming, and coming. They were strong, but I was able to manage the pain. I bounced on my birth ball, updated Facebook asking for prayers, and drank the Labor-Ade I'd kept ready in the refrigerator. Collin rushed around as fast as he could, getting our hospital bags and the kids' overnight bags into the van, calling his brother to let him know we were on the way, and getting the sleepy kids loaded into their car seats. We were delayed further because I couldn't find my wallet and insisted on hunting for it before we left. (It was sitting on the couch, of all places -- I must have set it down there and forgotten about it.)

I had a blanket wrapped around me because I was cold, and I kept it around me as I climbed into the van -- actually, I ended up sitting on it. I don't know why I didn't just grab a coat instead, but it ended up being a good thing we had the blanket along. 

We finally set off for my brother-in-law's house, about a mile south of our own, around 3:45am. Contractions were still coming fast and hard, and I was starting to feel anxious about getting to the hospital on time. We were driving south on Highway 303, and I was moaning through a hard contraction, when I heard an audible *pop* -- the closest sound I can think of is when you cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouth. I felt a gush of warm fluid and, horrified, told Collin, "My water just broke!" 

My water had broken on its own in last two labors, and in both cases baby arrived within minutes. (In fact, with Gabriel, my water didn't break until his shoulders were being born.) I texted Laura -- it was 3:53am, according to my phone -- and told her that my water had broken. She asked if I could check it to see if the fluid was clear, and I replied that no, we were still in the van on the way to drop off the kids!

With the next contraction, my body started to push. I had no control over it whatsoever, but I huffed and blowed like crazy to try and stop it. We made it to my brother-in-law's house, and, although my sister-in-law came out to help, it still seemed like hours before they got all the kids and carseats unloaded, plus their overnight bag and Gabriel's travel bed.

Finally we got back on the road, and I told Collin that I was pushing but trying not to, so he had to drive fast. I was actually starting to wonder if we should just pull over and call 911, because my body was pushing with every contraction and I was terrified that I was going to give birth in the van. He was running red lights and, once we got onto the highway, flooring the accelerator. Later he told me that we'd been going 95 miles an hour on the highway. The entire time I was struggling with all my might not to push and praying, "Please, God, don't let me give birth in the car. Please, God, let us get to the hospital!" over and over.

Amazingly, the pain of the contractions wasn't that bad - when I think back on our wild drive, what is most memorable is the terror I felt at the prospect of giving birth on the side of the road with only Collin there. The pain was secondary, and much less memorable.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when we made it to the ER, and I saw my doula waiting for us at the door. She had already told the orderlies that I'd be arriving in hard labor, so they had a wheelchair waiting. I somehow managed to get into it, and Laura grabbed the keys to our van and told Collin that she'd park it for us so he could go up with me. (Collin later said that at that moment he would have gladly and gratefully paid someone $500 to park the van for him, so she more than earned her fee with that one action alone!)

As I'd expected, and feared, as we raced by the admitting desk they tried to flag us down and ask questions (so apparently preregistering was, like always, completely pointless). I kept yelling, "I'm pushing! We don't have time for this!" Collin yelled my name and birth date and said, echoing me, "We don't have time for anything else, she's pushing!" The ER orderly - bless the man - ignored them as well and got us into the elevator as fast as he could. Laura again saved the day by stopping at the desk and giving them all the information she could on her way back from parking the van. She had a copy of my birth plan with her which had all the information they needed, thankfully.

We rushed into L&D. I was still chanting my litany of, "I'm pushing! I'm pushing!" so the nurses wisely skipped triage and wheeled me into the closest empty room available. I somehow got undressed from the waist down (but was still wearing my T-shirt and a sports bra) and into the bed in about 30 seconds, with the help of the nurses. I breathed a huge sigh of relief once I was on the bed and said, "Thank you, God, we got to the hospital." 

One of the nurses did a quick exam and said, resignedly, "She's complete and +2 station." (Translation: baby is imminent.)

Laura made it up to our room amazingly quickly, and she'd had the foresight to grab the bottle of Labor-Ade I'd left in the cup holder and bring it up with her. All my panting and blowing to keep from pushing had made my mouth bone-dry, and I was incredibly grateful to have something handy to drink. She also had my birth plan in her hand and made sure the nurses got a copy - and I saw at least one nurse actually reading it as well, which was a relief. Laura also let the nurses know about the baby's clubbed feet so that no one would be surprised by them once s/he was born. 

I am so grateful we decided to to hire a doula, because it was such a relief and a benefit to have someone to run interference with the nurses -- I was too wrapped up in the pain of contractions and the urge to push, and Collin was intent on supporting me.

I was also feeling frustrated, though, because even though we were at the hospital, the nurses were telling me not to push, because my midwife wasn't there yet. As it turned out, she had left the hospital about ten minutes before, so she had to turn around and drive back. The nurses kept asking questions (when was my first contraction, when had my water broken, etc.) and even inserted a heplock -- they wanted to do a full-blown IV with fluids, but luckily both Collin and Laura told them I didn't want that.And they kept telling me not to push, because the midwife was on her way.

I kept thinking, "You people don't understand. My body is pushing, not me. I have no control over it. This baby is coming now whether you like it or not!" 

What actually came out was, "Uhhhhhhh - uhhhhhhhhhhh - I can't stop it!" And now that we were safely at the hospital, I had no desire to stop pushing -- I had fought to stop pushing for the endless journey to the hospital, with the thought that once I got there I could finally stop fighting the sensation. I wanted the baby out so the pain would stop, and so I could finally find out if we had a new son or daughter. The fact that the midwife wasn't there was absolutely inconsequential to me -- I figured there were enough medical professionals around who could handle catching a baby (including Laura, who was a student midwife!).

So, when I felt the urge to push, I pushed. About two pushes later, the baby's head was born. He had a nuchal cord (the cord was around his neck, although not tightly) so the nurses quickly unwrapped the cord and suctioned out his mouth. I pushed again, and delivered the rest of his body. The midwife hadn't arrived, so a nurse named Liz caught him instead. (He wasn't the first baby she'd ever had to catch, either!) He was born at 4:27am, about ten minutes after our arrival and about 90 minutes after my first painful contraction. Collin took a peek between the baby's legs immediately and said, "It's a boy!" I said, first, "Thank you, God!" and then, "His name is Peter."

The nurses ended up cutting the cord after about thirty seconds (despite the fact that my birth plan specified we wanted delayed cutting and clamping) because he wasn't breathing immediately after he came out - they guessed he was a little stunned due to the speed of his birth. (I could empathize.) We did consent to the immediate cutting/clamping once we understood their concerns. His first Apgar score was a 6, which is a tad lower than they like to see. After they cut the cord they took him over to the warmer, rubbed him down, and did a bit more suctioning. He perked up right away and started crying healthily. His second Apgar score was a 9, so he recovered quickly.

They brought him to me about a minute after he was born and laid him on my chest. Oh, he was such a gorgeous boy! My first thought was, "He looks like Gabriel, but with less hair!" He had a stork bite right between his eyebrows, exactly like the one William had when he was born. Collin and Laura commented on how chubby he was -- he had chunky arms, thighs, and cheeks, and adorable rolls of fat on the back of his neck. The minute he was laid on my chest, Peter started rooting for my nipple! I've never had a newborn that enthusiastic about nursing before (and now, three weeks later, he's still a very enthusiastic nurser.) He was ready and raring to nurse, and ate for a good twenty minutes on each side once I got him latched on.

Soon after, the midwife arrived -- minutes too late to catch the baby. She was a bit disappointed to have missed his birth but understood that sometimes you just can't wait. :) She stayed around to help me deliver the placenta (that took a while -- it was probably a good 30 minutes after his birth) and to stitch up my second degree tear.

At one point, Collin and Laura left to turn the van's lights off (she had thought they were the type that turned off on their own, but they need to be turned off manually -- and luckily she asked about this fairly soon after the birth so we didn't have to deal with a dead battery!) and to retrieve our hospital bags. They checked out the front seat while they were there. As it turned out, the blanket I'd been sitting on, as well as my sweatpants, had soaked up all the amniotic fluid so the seat hadn't gotten wet at all! Whew. :)

It was nearly change of shift for the nursing staff by that time, so it was a while before the new nurses came in to introduce themselves and complete the newborn procedures. Peter wasn't weighed until about 3 hours after he was born, but that gave us a nice long stretch of time for bonding. When he was weighed, I couldn't believe the number on the scale - nine pounds exactly! I knew he was chubby but he really hadn't felt that much bigger than my other babies when I pushed him out. He's our biggest baby by 13 ounces (Violet was 8lbs, 3oz at birth).

Amazingly, for the first time ever I did NOT need an IV bag of pitocin afterwards in order to control heavy bleeding! I credit this to the fact that I'd been taking alfalfa supplements since 34 weeks, after reading online that they could help control heavy bleeding. I did some research and spoke to my midwife, both of which confirmed that taking the supplements wouldn't hurt and could help. As it turned out, they did help, significantly. (Specifically, I took two of these each morning.) My postpartum bleeding, both immediately after birth and in the days following, was significantly lighter than it had ever been with any of my previous births. One thing I would change could be to find some alfalfa capsules instead of tablets -- I have a sensitive gag reflex and sometimes taking the tablets was difficult because it tasted like swallowing grass. But they worked out so well that I will definitely use them again with any future pregnancies.

One thing I'd been wondering/worried about was seeing his clubbed feet for the first time. I just wasn't sure how I'd react. Once he was born, however, his feet were the furthest thing from my mind. I was too busy falling in love with my little boy to notice anything else. Once I did see his little feet, though, it wasn't as scary or traumatic as I'd feared. Yes, they were clubbed, but they were a part of him, and that made them beautiful. 

Laura stayed at the hospital with us for several hours, finally leaving around 7am once she was sure we were comfortable and settled. It was several hours before I updated Facebook with the news of his birth, because I wanted to tell certain family members via phone first, and it took a while to get in touch.

The story behind his name: I liked Benedict Francis, after the current and former pope, but Collin was unsure. He's a great admirer of the Pope Emeritus, but we'd already given William the middle name of Joseph as a way to honor him. As a compromise, he proposed the name Peter, which was a nod to the see of Peter and a way to honor both popes. I was iffy, though, because I had a former boss named Peter who had been a nightmare to work for, and told him I'd think about it. 

However, the strangest thing happened. I started seeing the name Peter EVERYWHERE -- in books, magazines, online, etc. It was like God was purposefully putting the name in front of me at every opportunity. We spent some time with Collin's aunt, whose hobby is genealogy, and found out that Peter is actually a family name -- I think Collin's paternal great-grandfather (or maybe great-great-grandfather) was named Peter. 

I was also mulling over using "David" as a first or middle name, as it's my father's name, but didn't think about using it in conjunction with Peter until Collin and I went to Phoenix Comic-Con and met one of my favorite sci-fi authors, Peter David:

When we were in our hotel room, I commented to Collin, "You know, Peter David is actually a really nice-sounding name." He agreed, and we talked it over a few more times before deciding on it definitively a few months later. (Regarding my hesitation with using the same name as Nightmare Boss -- ultimately, I decided that I wasn't going to let some jerk over a thousand miles away, whom I hadn't seen or talked to since 2007, spoil a great name.) It fit, quite nicely, all our naming criteria - saint's name, family connection, and a tangential connection to geekdom.

So, that was Peter's birth. It was a pretty wild ride, but had a very happy ending:

We are so in love with this little guy.

Check out my other blog, The Clubfoot Chronicles, if you want to know how the treatment for his clubbed feet is going.

Gabriel's birth story - November 2011

The birth story of Gabriel Keith
11/26/11 (37w1d), 6:09am MST
Weight: 7lbs, 9oz; Length: 18.5 in.

I discovered a surefire way to induce labor - just cook a Thanksgiving dinner for nine people and poof! You'll go into labor the next day. At least, that's what worked for me...

I spent most of Thanksgiving (36w6d pregnant) on my feet, roasting a turkey for the first time, concocting homemade stuffing, and making various side dishes. I did try to get off my feet whenever possible, but it was still an extremely busy day. I was wiped out by 6pm and in bed and asleep by 8pm.

The next morning, I woke up at 4:45am and couldn't get back to sleep. I decided to go downstairs and surf the Internet for a while. I ended up finding a fantastic Black Friday deal on a new pre-lit Christmas tree at Joann.com ($130 tree for $40, plus free shipping) so I (foolishly) went upstairs to wake up Collin and ask if we could buy it. He did not take kindly to being woken up that early on one of his rare days off (can't say I blame him) but eventually he gave me the green light to buy the tree. I did, went back to bed, and managed to fall back asleep until 8am.

When I got up again and used the bathroom, I noticed a bit of blood in the toilet and on the toilet paper. Hmmm, odd, I thought, but passed it off as spotting due to my overexertion the previous day. After all, I was only full-term that very day, and my last pregnancy had gone to 40w3d, so I doubted it meant anything.

I told Collin abut it, though, and we decided that I should pack my hospital bag just in case (something that was on my to-do list for the weekend, anyhow). I packed as best I could and threw some stuff into the washing machine to pack later (such as all my newborn-sized baby outfits, none of which I'd washed yet).

Collin wanted to see the chiropractor, as he'd been having back pain the last week, so we loaded everyone in the car. The kids and I did a bit of grocery shopping while Collin visited the chiropractor. When he was done, we went to see The Muppets (fantastic movie), and then went home.

I used the bathroom again when we got home, and -- surprise -- lost my entire mucous plug in one fell swoop. That had never happened to me before so it was rather jarring. It made me think that maybe something was happening, after all. Still, I'd heard that it was possible to lose your mucous plug and not go into labor for days or even weeks, or that the mucous plug could regenerate, so I still tried to convince myself that it didn't mean anything. Even so, I finished my laundry and made sure my hospital bag was packed and ready to go.

I started timing contractions around 5pm. They were painless, but coming in fairly regular intervals about 10-20 minutes apart. I took a warm bath with Epsom salts, a trick that had always worked to calm BH contractions before. This time, they kept coming. We all piled onto our king-size bed and watched TV for a while, and by 9pm the contractions were starting to become a bit uncomfortable. Collin noticed that I was pacing around and decided to put the kids to bed ASAP. After they were settled, he called his sister-in-law to let her know we might need her to watch the kids. (She was actually our back-up plan for childcare - our initial plan had been to have his dad come over, but his dad was currently en route from North Dakota and was scheduled to arrive in AZ sometime late Saturday or early Sunday!)

Around 10:30pm or so I called my doula, Brealin, to tell her that my contractions were about 7-8 minutes apart, and I wasn't sure if we should go to the hospital or not. I was skittish because of my precipitous labor with Violet, which had only lasted 2.5 hours start to finish. Brealin encouraged me to wait for an hour and see how I felt first, and to eat something nutritious and rich in protein to keep up my energy in case this was real labor. I ate some Thanksgiving leftovers (turkey, sweet potatoes, and a roll) and drank water, all while timing contractions.

Finally, around 11:30pm, I decided I wanted to go to the hospital. The contractions weren't lasting very long but they were coming closer together, and I at least wanted to get checked out to see if anything was happening. I was open to coming back home if necessary, but I didn't want to have too close a call as I'd had with Violet. I called Brealin and arranged to meet her at the hospital, and as soon as my SIL arrived we headed to L&D.

[Collin asked me to write about how he single-handedly defeated a horde of Viking warriors that were between us and the hospital, so I'm humoring him.]

Once I got settled into triage, a check revealed that I was 4cm and 60% effaced, but baby was still high up (-3 station). The triage nurse encouraged me to walk the halls for an hour or two and then come back to get checked; if there was progress I'd be admitted, but if not I'd be sent home. In retrospect I probably should have labored at home a while longer, but like I said Violet's fast birth had made me skittish. With her birth I had labored at home too long and had just barely made it to the hospital in time.

Brealin, Collin, and I walked the halls from 12:30am-2:30am. Thankfully the place was deserted since it was the middle of the night, so we were able to wander around the public areas -- the lobby, the chapel, etc. When a contraction hit I'd stop where I was and "slow dance" with Collin, laying my head on his chest and swaying my hips as he and Brealin rubbed my back or stroked my hair. It was wonderfully soothing.

Around 2:30am we went back up to L&D triage, and the nurse checked me again. I was 5cm and 100% effaced! I can't remember for sure if baby had come down at all -- I think he might have been at -1 station -- but they were going to admit me. I was elated that I was going to meet my baby that day, and that I'd finally have a chance to labor in a jacuzzi tub!

The triage nurse told me that my OB, Dr. N (the one I'd seen throughout my pregnancy) was scheduled to be on call at 7am, but the doctor currently on call (Dr. M) was one I'd never met. I told her there was no way I was going to wait 'til 7am to have this baby so I'd take my chances with Dr. M!

Luckily, the nurses had gotten my GBS test result, which was negative (I'd had the test at my November 17 appointment but hadn't gotten the result yet) so I didn't need an IV. I consented to a heplock, stayed on a monitoring strip for 20 minutes while Brealin fired up the tub, and finally was given the green light to get in around 3:00am or so.

Collin actually took a short video to commemorate the event:



HEAVEN, I tell you. HEAVEN. Brealin laid out a bunch of little battery-operated tea lights, then shut off the overhead lights. She also laid gauze pads with drops of of clary sage essential oil
around the tub. Oh, it was amazing. I sat and soaked, my head pillowed by a fluffy towel, and let the jets pound my back whenever I had a contraction. I felt like I was in my own little exclusive birth spa. The white noise of the jets was almost hypnotic, and I kind of felt like I was in a trance. The contractions didn't even hurt - I felt pressure but no pain. I'd rest my head against Collin's hand whenever I had a contraction, but otherwise I didn't move other than to sip water, and once to suck on a honey stick provided by Brealin.

Our L&D nurse, Amy, was absolutely FABULOUS. She left us completely alone and trusted my doula to come get her if necessary. She came in every 30 minutes to check the baby's heartbeat via Doppler, and I didn't even have to get out of the tub. She read my birth plan and respected it 110% - I couldn't have asked for a better nurse.

Around 5am I started feeling "pushy," and also started feeling a little panicky - the "I don't think I can do this much longer" feelings that usually indicate transition. I got out of the tub (boo) for a cervical check. When Amy told me I was only 7cm, I was devastated and started to cry. I thought for sure I'd be fully dilated.

Amy quietly recommended sitting on the birth ball to encourage baby to drop down further to promote dilation, so they brought one in and I spent the next half hour or so sitting on that. At this point my former peace had been shattered -- I was chilly from leaving the warm environment of the tub and the contractions hurt like hell now that I was out of the water and sitting upright. After a certain point I couldn't stand sitting anymore and started pacing the room, stopping to brace myself at the end of the bed with each contractions. I swayed my hips like I was doing the hula, and made low mooing sounds (that's what they sounded like to me, anyway) in my throat.

The running commentary in my head was, I hate this. I want an epidural. I want a C-section. I don't care how, I just want this baby OUT because I can't do this anymore. However, I didn't vocalize my thoughts because I knew it'd be useless, and some part of my brain knew that I really didn't want drugs, no matter how appealing they seemed at the moment.

Brealin, Collin, and Amy were all doing their best to encourage me, but I felt like labor would never end. I was accustomed to speedy transition (with William, I went from 7cm to 10cm in 15 minutes; with Violet, I arrived at the hospital 10cm and ready to push), and this time transition was taking forever, like it had with Elanor's labor (I'd also had the urge to push at 7cm with her). I was scared that it'd take over an hour to push this baby out, as it had with my first labor.

Around 5:50am I said that I felt immense pressure and really had to push. I was checked again - 9cm.

Amy explained that the bag of waters was literally bulging out of my cervix, and the minute it broke the baby would be here, but in the meantime I had to get to 10cm. I was not a happy camper. I stood at the edge of the bed and worked through contractions as best I could, with Collin and Brealin doing their best to give words of cheer and encouragement, and me fantasizing all the ways they could die. (Okay, maybe I wasn't that bad, but I was in a lot of pain.)

Brealin repeated again that once the bag of waters broke, the baby would be here. I growled in a voice reminiscent of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, "Then let's break the goddamn thing!" Brealin quickly agreed and Amy went to ask someone to find the doctor to come in and break my water.

At this point, things get a little fuzzy for me. I had a contraction that felt like it was ripping me in two, and my body started to push all on its own. The feeling was so consuming that I couldn't vocalize what was happening other than to groan. I was still standing at the foot of the bed, with my hands braced on its sides, when I heard a *plop* and felt something literally drop out of my vagina.

I gasped, "Oh my God!" and reached down to feel a bulging, squishy bag hanging between my legs - it felt like a water balloon. I thought it was the baby's head, but it was only the amniotic fluid sac - baby was coming out in the caul. That same second, things went nuts. Amy, Brealin, and Collin were the only ones in the room. Amy shouted at Collin to go get the doctor and more nurses to help. Brealin was telling me that I had to get on the bed, but I shook my head and said, "No, I can't!" - fully intending to push the baby out right then and there, standing by the end of the bed. (Probably not the best choice given that I was standing on a hard wooden floor, but I wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment.)

I have always said that I have membranes of steel, as my water has never broken prior to pushing (and twice it's been broken by the nurse or midwife as baby was crowning), and this birth just reinforced that notion given how long the sac stayed intact.

Amy and Brealin both told me that I had to get on the bed. They gently, but firmly, lifted me on to it, with Amy supporting the sac that was still hanging out of me as I awkwardly climbed in. I crawled on the bed on my hands and knees and stayed that way. I was not moving, and to their credit I don't think anyone asked me to move.

All I have to go on now is what I could hear, because I was clinging to the bed for dear life, on my hands and knees with my butt in the air and couldn't see much of what was going on. I do remember someone - maybe Amy? - telling me not to push yet. I was trying not to but my body wasn't cooperating; with every contraction I could feel myself push but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it.

Brealin told me that Dr. M moseyed on into the room -- apparently, the urgency of what was going on had not been thoroughly communicated to him. I imagine that the sight he met when he walked in the door -- me, on the bed, butt-first and an amniotic fluid sac hanging out, huffing through a contraction, as the nurse supported the sac in her hand, and other nurses scurrying around getting the baby warmer ready -- made him realize that we didn't have any time to lose. He ran to the sink, scrubbed up, and dashed to the bed. God bless the man, he didn't bat an eye at the fact that I was on my hands and knees, as some OBs might.

Now everyone was telling me to push. I was in too much pain to communicate the fact that I didn't have any control over it anymore -- my body was pushing all by itself regardless of what anyone wanted me to do! I made an effort to push harder, more because I wanted to pain to freaking END already.

The baby's head came out in the caul, and as the shoulders were being born, the amniotic fluid sac "exploded like a bomb" (quoth my husband). The nurses had prepared for this by putting towels on the bed and floor, but I don't know how wet they (they nurses) got. Once the shoulders were out, the rest of the baby was born quickly, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Since he couldn't put the baby on my chest as I'd requested in my birth plan, the doctor instead handed the baby to Collin, who looked between the baby's legs and gasped, "It's a boy!" We hadn't found out the baby's sex beforehand but I'd had incredibly strong boy vibes throughout my pregnancy. Still, it was jarring to realize that my vibes had been correct and we indeed had a new son! I said something like, "Oh God, it's a boy, I'm so happy! I really wanted a boy!" and was half-sobbing with joy. (Collin said he was pretty teary-eyed too.)

The doctor asked a nurse for the time of birth, and she said 6:09am. Collin remembers seeing that the sky was lightening outside, and later I looked up the time of sunrise - it rose exactly one hour after he was born, at 7:09am.

Meanwhile, it was very awkward, clinging to the bed with my butt still in the air, not knowing quite what to do now that he was born. I heard the doctor asking about cutting the cord, because our birth plan specified that we wanted the cord to stop pulsing first. However, it was a little complicated given that I was on my hands and knees and couldn't really hold the baby skin-to-skin in that position, but it was equally as awkward trying to flip over while the umbilical cord was still intact and the bed below me was soaked with fluid and blood. Eventually I just told them to go ahead and cut the cord to make things easier.

Once they did so, the nurses removed what dirty linens they could and put clean blankets and towels underneath me, and helped me turn over. While my butt was still in the air, I heard a nurse say, "He's 7lbs, 9oz!" I couldn't believe how big he was for 3 weeks early; Elanor had been born at 39 weeks and she'd been only 1oz heavier at 7lbs, 10oz.

As soon as I had turned over, I saw an unfamiliar man watching me with a smile on his face. "Oh, hi," I said. "You must be Dr. M."

"Yes, that's me," he said.

"Nice to meet you face-to-face instead of butt-to-face," I quipped.

He just grinned wider and shook my hand. "Congratulations."

Then, FINALLY, they handed me my sweet baby, and I marveled over his full head of hair and his adorable little scrunchy face. I kissed his cheeks, raved over his cuteness, and told everyone his name was Gabriel Keith. I tried to breastfeed him in order to aid the expulsion of the placenta, but he wasn't very interested in latching on right away; he just laid on my chest, blinking his eyes, and watching my face.

Collin took a video of us about 10 minutes after Gabriel was born, while we were doing some skin-to-skin snuggling. Please ignore how drugged out I look; I promise it's due to exhaustion (and baby bliss), not medication!



Dr. M was incredibly patient. He just sat and waited for a good 15-20 minutes, as the nurses did all the newborn procedures on Gabriel (he was on my chest the whole time). Finally, he spoke up and said he was concerned about the amount of bleeding I was having, and he thought it best if we tried some fundal massage to get the placenta expelled. He also asked if I'd consent to an IV bag of pitocin, due to the amount of bleeding I was having. I consented to both, and was very pleased that he'd asked my permission first.

He came over to the bed and did the fundal massage, which worked almost immediately to get the placenta out. The nurse hooked up the pitocin to my heplock, and then I gave Gabriel back to Collin so Dr. M could check for tearing. Not surprisingly, I had a 2nd degree tear (the only birth I haven't torn was with William). I had to wiggle my way toward the end of the bed and put my feet up in stirrups so he could stitch me up. Even though I got a shot of local anesthetic, the stitching hurt more than I remembered from previous births, and it seemed to take an inordinately long time. I think part of that was the fact that I was absolutely exhausted, so the experience seemed to last longer than it really did.

Finally, he was done and I got my baby back. :) Soon after I got a lovely dose of ibuprofen, a wonderful ice pack for my nether regions, and I got Gabriel to latch on. He nursed like a champ from the get-go. I went on Facebook to spread the news, ate a ham-and-cheese omelet that tasted fantastic (I hadn't realized just how hungry I was until I ordered breakfast!), and a few hours later we were moved up to our postpartum recovery room and starting calling family and friends to spread the joyful news that unto us a child was born.

Before we were transferred to the postpartum unit, Amy thanked us for the privilege of witnessing our birth, as this was her last shift; she was transferring to another hospital in the Valley to work as a lactation consultant, and she was glad to end her career in L&D on such a high note. That made me a little teary-eyed. She was a fantastic L&D nurse so it's definitely the hospital's loss!

Also, the pediatric nurse said, "I've never seen anyone deliver on their hands and knees before. That was cool to watch." I later learned that the L&D nurses on the floor that day had nicknamed me "Rockstar Mom" due to the hands-and-knees birth. I didn't think it was all that impressive at the time, given that I was the one with my butt in the air, but hindsight is 20/20 (ba dum bum ching!).

We saw Dr. N as we were leaving the L&D ward, and he came over to congratulate us and said he was disappointed he'd missed the birth, but was glad things had gone so well for me. He said something along the lines of, "I heard you did great," so evidently my reputation of Rockstar Mom was already making the rounds.

The story behind Gabriel's name: Gabriel Keith was the boy name we'd had picked out for Violet, had she'd been a boy, so it's one we'd been waiting to use for a while. Gabriel is Collin's confirmation name, and as an added bonus this baby was conceived on the Feast of the Annunciation, making it very appropriate. Plus, the name goes with the "Holy Family" theme we have going with our kids' names (their middle names are Mary, Joseph, and Elizabeth). Keith is my father-in-law's name, and we wanted to honor him as well. We also liked the initials G.K., in honor of G.K. Chesterton, one of my very favorite authors (Collin and I were confirmed into Catholicism on his birthday!).

Gabriel is such a sweet baby, so mellow and content. His two sisters and his brother absolutely adore him. We are blessed!

My birth stories

My oldest, Elanor, minutes after birth

I've posted all six of my birth stories to my blog, and I'm consolidating all the links into one post for easier reference.

All six kids were born in a hospital, and all were natural births (vaginal and unmedicated). The last four (Violet, Gabriel, Peter, and Laura) were doula-assisted. Elanor, Violet, and Gabriel were caught by obstetricians, William and Laura were caught by CNMs (certified nurse-midwives), and Peter was caught by a nurse because the CNM didn't make it in time.

The birth of Elanor Mary

The birth of William Joseph

The birth of Violet Elizabeth

The birth of Gabriel Keith

The birth of Peter David

The birth of Laura Rose

Violet's Birth Story

Violet Elizabeth
born 3/5/10 (40w3d)
8lbs 3oz, 20 in.

Violet, a few minutes after birth

My due date was 3/2/10, but since my two older kids had both been early (39w0d and 36w3d, respectively) I was expecting to go early with this baby as well. However, looks like the third child was the wild card. My due date came and went, and to my amazement I still hadn't given birth. I was feeling huge, uncomfortable, and very emotional. I'd also been having prodromal labor contractions for weeks, including for nearly 12 hours the previous day.

The nurse at my clinic had previously told me that the doctor wouldn't “let” me go past 41 weeks, so I very much wanted to give birth before then so I didn't have to worry about either doing an induction or having to fight being scheduled for one. Since 37 weeks I'd been taking evening primrose oil capsules, drinking red raspberry leaf tea, walking, sex, and other natural induction methods to try to encourage labor to start. At my 39 week appointment I'd been 2cm and 60% effaced, so things were happening, albeit slowly.

Finally, at 40w2d, I went to a local farmer's market-type store and purchased a small bottle of castor oil. I'd researched this method thoroughly and decided I'd try the lowest possible dose – one tablespoon – to see if that would do anything. I took it about 9:30pm that night and then went to bed. (I mixed it with 8oz of orange juice and one teaspoon of baking soda to add some fizz -- it really wasn't bad!) Collin had gone to see the midnight showing of Alice in Wonderland (he wanted to see the new Tron trailer in front of it), and promised to keep one hand on his cell phone at all times in case I started having contractions. However, I slept through the night peacefully. I woke up at 5:30am needing to pee, as usual, but there were no ill effects from the castor oil as far as I could tell. I was feeling a little crampy and restless and couldn't get back to sleep, so I played around on my iPhone for a while and and finally got up to shower and dress about 6:30am. I was scheduled to see my OB for my 40 week appointment that morning at 8:30am.

At 7:15am, just as I'd finished getting dressed, I suddenly had a contraction – and it was painful enough to necessitate sitting down on the bed. I grabbed my iPhone, went downstairs to sit on my birth ball, and started up the contraction timer app I'd downloaded a few weeks ago. I had several more contractions, each as intense as the first one. They were lasting nearly a minute and were five minutes apart, so I called Collin on his iPhone (so I wouldn't have climb the stairs) to let him know that it looked like labor might be here at last. He got up immediately and started getting ready himself as well as packing some last minute things, notifying his work, etc. He called our doula, who lived two hours away, to let her know to start driving. He also called our backup doula, who lived much closer, to let her know she might be needed.

While timing contractions, I drank two 12-oz bottles of Gatorade to ensure I'd be hydrated. The contractions continued, getting more intense and closer together rather quickly, and I started getting nervous. The kids were distracting and the jacuzzi tub in the birthing room was sounding very appealing, so I told Collin we needed to go to the hospital, and called the back-up doula to tell her know to meet us there. He was still getting things together, but finally, around 9am, we headed out the door.

I was in some pretty significant pain by this time and the contractions were two minutes apart. Having contractions in the car was agony; they were coming fast and some lasted as long as two minutes. The drive to the hospital was only 10 minutes but it seemed like hours to me. We finally got there and miraculously managed to find a parking space. Collin flagged down a volunteer with a golf cart to drive us to the door so I wouldn't have to walk, and another volunteer ran for a wheelchair when we got to the front door of the women's health center.

Once in the elevator, I started getting the shakes and knew from past experience that it meant transition. In L&D they sent me directly to triage, but the nurses could tell I was very close just from my contractions and the amount of pain I was in. I managed to get them a urine sample (the nurse asked, doubtfully, “Are you going to push the baby out on the toilet?” and I told her I thought I could hold on). Once I got out of the bathroom, I was relieved to see the back-up doula – Brealin – had arrived. She helped me get on to the bed and the nurse did a vaginal exam. Sure enough – I was completely dilated!

After that things really moved fast. They quickly wheeled me into a L&D room and got me into the bed. Collin, who apparently didn't realize quite what was going on, asked me if I wanted to use the birth ball. I looked at him incredulously and said, “It's too late for the f****** birth ball; I have to push!”

My OB had been notified the minute I arrived, and, as I wanted him to catch the baby, I huffed through the contractions. It was agony to lie there, wanting to push, while they put in a heplock (with my consent), asked me questions, and even had me sign paperwork. Collin later told me that it'd taken less than five minutes for the OB to arrive, but it seemed like ten times that long.

Brealin, our back-up doula, was a lifesaver – she coached me all through the contractions, telling me what an amazing job I was doing, and it really helped me cope. Collin was saying all the same things but all he did was annoy me. It was amazing how well I connected with another woman, even one I'd just met that morning! (We'd hired our doula and her back-up a short time before and hadn't met either of them at that point.)

When the OB came in I said, “Oh, thank God!” They disassembled the bed and cranked up the top so I could sit up. Collin and Brealin held my legs and I started pushing. After just two pushes, the baby's head was out, and I summoned all the strength I could muster to push the rest of the body out. I could tell while pushing that the baby was bigger than my other two babies had been – it was a much greater effort. Finally, to my great relief, the baby was born!

Collin immediately announced, “It's a girl!” We hadn't found out her sex beforehand, but I'd had girl vibes from the beginning of my pregnancy and was thrilled to know I'd guessed right (for once). They put her on my chest immediately. She had a head of dark hair and was just gorgeous. I looked at the clock and could barely believe it'd only been two and a half hours since my first contraction – and only twenty minutes since we'd arrived at the hospital!

I delivered the placenta shortly thereafter. Per our wishes, the staff had waited until the cord had stopped pulsing to cut and clamp it, and my doula helped me put her on the breast immediately to help with bleeding. She latched on right away and nursed well, but my doctor was still concerned about the amount of bleeding I had and asked, very respectfully, if I would consent to pitocin. I gave my consent and they began an IV as the doctor stitched up my second-degree tear. That hurt, even though he'd done a local lydocaine injection, but afterwards the nurse fixed me up with some gigantic pads and an ice-pack, as well as a big dose of ibuprofen. (The nurses, seeing that I was a very natural-childbirth mama, had asked if I wanted ibuprofen and acetaminophen. My response was, “I'm only opposed to medication during labor and delivery. Afterwards, bring on the drugs!”)

Interestingly, she had a true knot in her umbilical cord, about halfway between her navel and the placenta. My son had had one in his cord as well, and the nurses were amazed – they apparently rarely see true knots and had never heard of a mom having one with two different pregnancies.

She breastfed for nearly an hour, and we had some wonderful quiet time for bonding, before newborn procedures began. She weighed in at 8lbs, 3oz – my biggest baby yet! She was 20 inches long and had a head circumference of 13.25cm.

We named our new daughter Violet Elizabeth after my grandmother Violet and St. Elizabeth (Collin also has a cousin named Elizabeth, so we liked that it was also a family name on his side).

All in all, her birth felt being on a very fast freight train (and the pain felt like I was being run over by one), but the staff and my doctor were all incredibly courteous and respectful of our birth plan despite the speed at which things happened.

Violet, shortly after birth, watching the world

Elanor's birth story - January 2005

The birth story of Elanor Mary
01/13/2005 (39w0d), 12:20pm CST
Weight: 7lbs 10.8oz, Length: 20 inches

Elanor, just a few minutes after her birth

In preparation for childbirth, Collin and I took a Lamaze class from our hospital and we also did a Bradley homestudy course since the Bradley course in our area wasn’t being offered until January. We were both determined to have a natural, drug-free childbirth with as little medical intervention as possible. As my due date approached, we practiced relaxation and massage techniques, and I began drinking red raspberry leaf tea.

At my 39w OB appointment on January 11, my OB told me I was dilated to a 2 and 50% effaced – she was actually surprised that I hadn’t yet gone into labor, given that I’d been steadily dilating for two weeks. I told her I was convinced I was going to go past my due date – little did I know!

Collin woke me up at 6am the next morning, January 12, wanting nookie. I obliged and jokingly told him that it might start labor, so he should be prepared just in case. Who knows, maybe it was the trigger!

I started having contractions at 9am – I first noticed them as I was driving to work. They felt like mild menstrual cramps so I didn’t think much of them, and then I thought they were Braxton-Hicks contractions since I hadn’t had any up to that point. I started timing them around noon. They were coming about 10 minutes apart. I made an effort to drink a lot of water – sixty ounces – but they kept coming. At one point during the day I sent Collin an instant message telling him that things might be happening, and I also called and e-mailed my mom to let her know. My mother was one of my labor coaches and she lived 20 miles away. There was a severe winter weather/blizzard warning in effect for our area, and I wanted to let her know that things might be happening in case the weather got bad.

The contractions became a bit more intense as I was driving home. I picked Collin up from work (we carpool) but let him drive home. Once we got home, I drank more water, moved around, and took a shower. The contractions kept coming, still about 7-10 minutes apart (Collin was timing them now). I called my mom to let her know she should probably come over since the contractions hadn’t gone away. We also called the hospital birth center, and they said this was “probably” early labor but they didn’t want to say for sure.

Collin went to the grocery store to get some last-minute supplies. While he was gone, my mom arrived. She did some housework for me while I packed our hospital bags. Collin got home and we continued timing contractions.

Sometime around 11pm the contractions started coming closer together. They only lasted about 30-40 seconds and weren’t very intense, but they were three minutes apart. We decided to go to the hospital birth center since they were so close together. In retrospect, this was a mistake – even though they were close together, they weren’t lasting very long so they weren’t doing much. Had I remembered this from our Bradley course, we would have stayed home, but my mother had told me that neither she nor her sisters had had labors that were longer than four hours, and I was concerned that I’d go fast too.

When we got to the birth center, I was put in the triage room. A nurse came in and hooked me up to an external fetal monitor, and she also did a pelvic exam. I was only dilated to a 3. My contractions were still three minutes apart but weren’t very intense. My mom went to the family lounge to take a nap; Collin and I stayed in the triage room until about 2:30am. The nurse checked me again and I was still only dilated to a 3.

By this time I was very irritated and unhappy – I’d been confined to a very uncomfortable bed and hooked up to monitors; how did she expect me to dilate??? Collin and I walked the halls for half and hour and I got another internal exam. I was still a 3, so they sent us home. I was NOT pleased. Luckily, we lived only four blocks from the hospital so it wasn’t like we had to make a long trip.

When we got home, about 3:30am, Collin and I went to bed (my mom sacked out on our couch). He slept and I tried to, but I mainly just dozed between contractions. About 6am I decided to try the bathtub. The water felt good, but our bathtub was so small that I was cramped and uncomfortable, so I got out about 45 minutes later. The contractions were starting to get more intense and it was hard to talk through them. I sat on our birth ball for about an hour – it felt wonderful and I didn’t want to get off of it. However, the contractions were really starting to hurt, so we knew it was time to go back to the hospital.

When we got there, at about 8:15am, we were sent to triage again. I got an internal exam and was dilated to a 6! This time they were going to let me stay. ;) We got into our LDR room and I got on the birth ball again.

The contractions were getting more intense. Collin coached me through them, reminding me to breathe deeply and normally. He and my mom constantly massaged my back, which was the only thing that helped me get through them. Any time either of them would pause for even a millisecond, I’d yell, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” I was also chewing lots of ice chips.

The nurse told me that my doctor wanted me to have a heparin/saline lock, but I refused. We were committed to having a natural childbirth and I didn’t want the temptation of easily accessible medication, nor did I want fluids that might stall labor as long as I wasn’t dehydrated. Also, the last time I’d gotten an IV, it had HURT – and the prospect of more pain was just unbearable! We told the nurse we didn’t want the IV and she didn’t push the issue.

Arin (our nurse) wanted to do another internal exam, so I got into bed. I was almost dilated to a 7 and 100% effaced – my cervix was “very thin.” This was good news to everyone but me – I was so disappointed! I’d hoped to be further along.

Arin put fetal monitors on me again to make sure that the baby was tolerating contractions well. (She was.) I stayed in bed, laying on my left side with pillows between my legs, as Collin and my mom massaged my back and fed me ice chips. Collin suggested the tub but at the time I didn’t want to go through the ordeal of waiting for the tub to fill, getting out of bed, and getting in/out of the tub. In retrospect, I wish I had gone into the tub (they had a nice Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom attached to the LDR room). It might have helped me tolerate the contractions better, but at the time I just wanted to stay put. I told Collin, “I don’t want an epidural but I can certainly see the appeal of one!”

Suddenly I had an overwhelming feeling of pressure on my rectum and an urge to push. We called the nurse, who came in and did an internal exam. I was still only at 7 centimeters! The reason I was feeling so much pressure was because the baby’s head was “right there.” I wanted to push SO badly but I couldn’t, as it could cause the cervix to swell and stall labor

For the next two hours, I had to pant, blow, and huff during each contraction so I wouldn’t push. At this point the contractions were incredibly intense, lasting well over a minute, and coming 1-2 minutes apart. I was in agony – the urge to push was overwhelming and it was so difficult to have to suppress it! Plus, I was going through transition and had the shakes, so on top of the pain I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe. Collin and my mom were so wonderful – they kept encouraging me, telling me what a great job I was doing, and reassuring me when I told them I couldn’t stand it anymore (another sign of transition). Arin came in about 11am and did another internal exam. To my great relief, I was almost fully dilated, with just a small lip of cervix on the right side. I turned on my right side and huffed my way through a few more contractions. Finally, FINALLY, I was given the green light to push!

Arin reclined the bed to a 45 degree angle so I could be in a sitting squat position. By this time I was sweaty, exhausted, and in a lot of pain, so pushing was difficult. At one point I started hyperventilating – my head was spinning and I couldn’t catch my breath. Collin, my mom, and Arin helped me calm down and reminded me to breathe, because the baby needed oxygen too. This helped me focus and I was able to breathe better.

I pushed for over an hour. I found that what I’d read about pushing was true – it felt like I was having the biggest bowel movement of my life! At some point I pooped on the bed, which had been a concern of mine while pregnant – but when it happened I could not have cared less! All I cared about was getting this baby OUT so the pain would stop.

Sometime near noon, Arin said she could see the bag of waters bulging out of the birth canal. Collin and my mom saw it too. I pushed more and it still didn’t break, so Arin broke it (with my and Collin’s permission – I was hoping it would speed things up). Collin kept making comments like, “Oh, my God, this is so disgusting, but so amazing” and “I can’t believe the baby will fit through there!” At one point I think I told him to shut up.

Once the baby’s head crowned (“I can see hair!” Arin said), they called my doctor. She was across the hall delivering another baby, so it took her a few minutes to get there (it seemed like HOURS to me!). By this point I was sobbing and telling Collin that I didn’t think I could push anymore, I was just too tired. My OB put her face just inches from mine (she has VERY intense eyes), stared me straight in the face, and said, “JoAnna, just a few more pushes and the baby will be out. YOU CAN DO IT.”

Her words gave me a second wind and I pushed with all my might (making sounds that I didn’t think were capable for human beings to make!). I definitely felt the “ring of fire,” and it gave me the impetus to push even harder. The supreme thought in my mind was, “GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT!” I pushed so hard that the baby was born very quickly, and I got a second-degree tear in the process. (I was glad to tear naturally as opposed to an episiotomy.)

Collin said, “Oh my God, it’s a girl!” and started to cry. I said, “What? What? A girl?” and started to cry too. They put the baby on my chest and I sobbed to her, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry I’ve been calling you a boy for the past nine months!” (We hadn’t found out the gender beforehand, and I’d been convinced it was a boy.) Collin cut the cord and we looked at our little girl. She was absolutely beautiful, with a full head of hair, and screaming to beat the band.

The nurses took her and dried her off while my doctor delivered the placenta. She was pulling on the umbilical cord to deliver it and I bled a lot when it came out. (I’m not at all pleased that she did this, as I thought that it was better to deliver the placenta naturally than to have it pulled out. It’s a moot issue now, but one that I plan to raise with my doctor during any subsequent pregnancies.)

My birth plan had specified that I did not want routine pitocin to deliver the placenta, but I ended up getting a shot anyway since I was bleeding so much. My doctor was not pleased that she had to give me the pitocin directly instead of through an IV, but I’m still glad I didn’t get one. I also got a shot of anesthetic into the perineum while she stitched up my tear.

So, it was a long exhausting process, but ultimately I’m so glad that I did it all naturally! Elanor was SO alert after birth – her eyes were wide open and she didn’t even nap until about four hours after she was born. I breastfed her about ten minutes after birth – it took her a while to figure out how to latch on, but once she did she breastfed like a champ. The nurses delayed the newborn procedures so we could have the chance to bond with our baby, and when it came time for the newborn procedures they did everything in our room – weighing, eye ointment, vitamin K, etc.

We had the baby room in with us the entire time we were in the hospital. I had no pain whatsoever from the tear, but it took me a while to go to the bathroom afterwards. The night nurse kept threatening to catheterize me (something I did NOT want) if I didn’t pee, so I drank five cups of water in the span of several hours and got into the Jacuzzi (that was SO nice). Finally, I was able to pee. And then I was up several times during the night going to the bathroom due to all the water I’d had!

The most unpleasant part of our stay was when they had to move us to a much smaller and not-as-nice postpartum room because the birth center was really full. (Eight babies were born the same day as Elanor, and five of them were born around the same time she was!) I was glad to get out of the hospital; I was so tired of having nurses come in constantly to poke and prod. We went home on January 16.

We almost didn’t get to take Elanor home with us because her bilirubin levels (jaundice) were so high. We took her in for daily blood tests and her level still hadn’t gone down, so the hospital sent a bili blanket to our home and we started 24/7 home phototherapy. After a few days her level went down and we were able to take off the bili blanket.

The story behind Elanor’s name:

It was important to us to choose a name that would fit our daughter as a child and as a woman. Also, we wanted something unique but not outlandish.

“Elanor” is a name from the Lord of the Rings series by J.R.R. Tolkien. (The books, not the movies!) The first reference is in The Fellowship of the Ring – an elanor is a golden, star-shaped flower that blooms in winter in the forest of Lothlorien. In Return of the King, Samwise Gamgee and Rosie Cotton name their firstborn daughter Elanor (the name is suggested to them by Frodo Baggins). Both Collin and I are huge Tolkien fans, and we both loved the name. Also, I liked the nickname “Elly” for a little girl and thought that “Elanor” was an elegant name for a woman.

“Mary” is a reflection of our Catholic faith – it’s in honor of the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, and also after the Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis, MN, where Collin and I were both confirmed into Catholicism.

Elanor, about 3 days old