On his first week anniversary: our birth story

The healthy boy at his first doctor's appointment. Before he could visit the pediatrician's office, he had to be born.

1:30, 4:45, 6:00, and some variation thereof was my schedule to roll out of bed, lift my heavy belly and waddle to the bathroom to relieve surely no more a few teaspoons from my bladder.

This nightly routine was my least favorite part of pregnancy, yet every day as he grew, my bladder conversely shrank, and so began the end of my first pregnancy.

It had been a good run, though not everything went as I expected. I had to stop running sooner than I anticipated. I just couldn’t lift the weight, which was more than I expected to gain. That’s pregnant though. Expectations are met, yet many are not.

Overall, everything was great: no blood pressure or sugar problems. I was still active, walking, doing challenging yoga, and living life as much as usual as possible.

As I was past 37 weeks and the baby could come any time, we were carbing up our diet on the suggestion of our midwife to get ready for a marathon labor.

I happily stuffed my face full of baked potatoes, sweet potato and oat waffles and smoked salmon spaghetti and kingcake, so much kingcake. I honestly believe it was this commitment to life, health, and good food that allowed me to have the home birth that I wanted. This story is a celebration of good choices that led to good outcomes.

This is the story of how Ennis arrived.

Our big boy! He was born weighing 7lbs 12oz. By his appointment on Friday, he weighed 8lbs .08oz. Yay good milk!

Daniel and I were never set on a birth date. Due dates are voodoo algorithms, and we figured this baby would come when he was ready. That doesn’t mean we didn’t do things to encourage him to be ready though.

By midwife orders I was drinking 3 cups of raspberry tea a day and taking an evening primrose capsule in addition to be physically proactive inside and outside of the home.

I had read in Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth that mothers can have strong influence over when their babies came, so I decided that after Wednesday the 18^th when Daniel received notice that his grant proposal was officially submitted and after I enjoyed a great baby shower at work, I would give Ennis mental permission to be born.

I wasn’t miserable, but I had looked at the calendar to realize Mardi Gras was about a month away as were the dates we had looked at for my sister to buy a plane ticket to the coast, so I began often repeating the intention that labor was allowed to start and we were excited and ready to meet our baby when he chose to join us. I told him about how we had gotten ready and how everyone had helped us and how happy we were to have him join us.

On Friday the 20^th, during my regular prenatal visit, I told our midwife Norma that I had welcomed the baby to be born. She encouraged me to continue talking to the baby and letting him know we were ready, but when she did a check, my cervix was still completely posterior which meant it was too far back to find out how many if any centimeters I had dilated.

My cervix would need to do a lot of moving before birth could happen. She told me that that much movement often took weeks, and she wouldn’t be surprised if I went past 40 weeks, but she also said things can change in hours, so we should be proactive, continuing to talk to the baby, continuing active lifestyle, and the baby would come.

Temp check! You might wonder why I'm using photos from his first doctor's appointment; I had no desire to be photographed during labor.

It had been an exhausting week, so we had a lazy Saturday, spent mostly in pajamas watching cooking shows and eating delicious delicious carbs. I passed much of the afternoon, rolling my hips on a yoga ball, visualizing my baby descending and my cervix ripening as I had Braxton-Hicks contractions.

The sun was setting and the day was nearly gone, so we ran errands, returning some items and grocery shopping. As we picked up food to make dinner, I noticed that walking did not cause the BH contractions to fully cease as they had in the past, but still these were neither the strongest nor longest lasting ones I had had, so I didn’t pay too much attention to them.

Daniel put away dishes and groceries while I cooked a giant calzone of deer sausage, spinach, parsley, tomatoes, peppers, onions, and cheese. Sheena, my good friend, came over to eat and watch the Swedish version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with us. The whole movie I stayed on the yoga ball rolling my hips while BH contractions continued.

Sheena left, and around 10:30 I decided I’d take a bath to relax before bed. By 11:30, I was completely asleep until 1:30 when I got up to empty my bladder.  Then I wiped and saw the blood, more blood than I expected just for ripening. All the books I’ve read had warned me about the spotting I had been having for days, but this wasn’t spotting exactly. At least not what I think about as spotting.

Thankfully I have a midwife with a smartphone who talked to us and assured us after sending her a photo that I was having within a normal range of bleeding for my cervix to ripen. She encouraged me to get some sleep because my cervix might actually be moving forward like I want it to.

I rested until 3:30 when the BH contractions became too strong for me to sleep through, and I had a small gush of fluid that I wasn’t sure was anything more than just not making it to the bathroom in time. No more fluid gushed or leaked, but the contractions seemed to be getting more regular. Daniel got out his sports watch and a pen and pad and I told him “Start” and “Ok, it’s over.” Each contraction showed a pattern arising.

The next several hours were a combination of saying yay baby, singing along to happy music, laughing at funny youtube clips as if I hadn’t seen them before, sending Daniel to bed to rest while I rested in the tub, and stocking the rabbits up on food and water.

Ear check! So no messy baby photos, but you get photographic evidence that we did bring Ennis to get checked out after his homebirth.

I wasn’t sure I was in labor, but I was sure that I would be in labor sooner than later. I kept looking for signs. I never had a big show, but strands appeared. I was giddy when they did, despite being small.

I knew from Norma’s child birthing classes, the cervix can ripen, waters can break, and show can happen days before true labor begins, but these activities are a sign of something to come.

Daniel awoke from his nap, and we waited until there was more light than dark in the sky to call Norma again to update her.

We let her know that while I wasn’t quite 4 minutes apart on 1 minute long contractions for 1 hour (4-1-1), I was getting pretty close. After talking to me during one of the contractions, she agreed to come check on me. We also called our labor support, Sheena, who also began making plans to arrive.

It felt good to have people on the way though part of me was still nervous that I wasn’t in true labor and was wasting everyone’s time. The contractions continued, letting me know as they became longer and stronger that this was something.

I wanted Norma to arrive. I walked circles around our house to relieve the growing intensity. I ate some yogurt with fruit and honey for energy.

A page from timing contractions.

Sheena arrived. I walked, I rolled my hips on the yoga ball, I received back rubs, I looked out the window for Norma, who lives about 2 hours away.

Finally she called and said she was about 30 minutes away. When I saw her car turn down our driveway, I was energized and excited for her to check me.

We started out talking on the couch, checking vitals, and she timed a few contractions while we spoke. Earlier on the phone Daniel had asked her if we should prepare the house for birth, and she said to wait until she had assessed me since I wasn’t 4-1-1 yet.

Shortly after timing a few stronger contractions, she checked to see that I was at 4 centimeters. She had Daniel and Sheena begin preparing. They filled the labor/birth pool with water.

They cleared off the dresser for the various birthing supplies. They fixed the bed with old sheets and protective covers. While Norma began unpacking the birthing kit we ordered as well as her own supplies.

I was encouraged to eat, walk, do whatever I felt like doing as long as I remained hydrated. I was constantly told how awesome I was doing. Norma would tell me. Daniel would tell me. Sheena would tell me. They’d massage me when I requested.

They brought me more water, juice, and Powerade than I could ever want. They didn’t get their feelings hurt when I put a moratorium on offering me Powerade as it was too sweet and turning my stomach.

They handed me a bucket when I needed to get the Powerade out. They gave me space and allowed me to walk away, and yet they were close when I needed anything. I talked to myself a lot, much like I do when I run.

I thought about how I got here, the first positive pregnancy test, the first time I heard his heartbeat, the first time I felt him move. I rubbed my belly, remembering how it grew, protruding more and more, and how it would soon be gone.

I thought about how I felt, how I wanted to finish strong, with my stiff upper lip. I compared labor to how other things felt, trying to determine where labor fell on the scale of suck. I was still sure that it sucked nowhere near as much as mono and that I had had many periods worse than it.

When the pool was ready, I got in and it was nice, but I couldn’t get comfortable. In my mind I couldn’t be any more than 5 cm, so I got out and went to the bathroom where I then decided I wanted a hot shower on my back.

I found myself moaning deeper, and I said to myself, “You’re going to have to buck up because you can’t be more than 6 cm now, and if you’re going to make it through transition  this afternoon, you have to find a way through this.”

I demanded that my back be rubbed, continuously, very deeply, and woe to the person who stopped the back rubbing action. I didn’t want anything to drink. Do not ask me again. Do not stop rubbing. I drained the hot water heater and decided it was time to get out.

Put your little hand in mine

Norma offered to check me, and she said I was nearly ready to push. I had just gone through transition without realizing it. I walked back to the living room and got the first urge to push. I wasn’t sure if it was ok because Norma had said I was almost ready, but she assured me that if I felt the urge to push I should do so. So I walked until I felt the urge and pushed.

In between pushes, she checked his heart tones, but things did not sound quite right. They were up and down, not consistent like they had always been. She let me know that we had to get his heart tones better and get him out, so I took a deep breath and waited for the next urge to push.

When it came, I pushed and in the little movement of that push whatever was pressing against him stressing him out stopped, and his heart tones were better.

I felt like moving again, so we went to the bathroom, and after a few more good pushes, he was crowning. I thought to myself, “So this is the ring of fire. This isn’t really that bad. I expected worse.”

All the while Norma was supporting my perineum with fresh warm hand towels and using olive oil along inside and out and around his head. Every new towel she placed on me caused my body to involuntarily relax.

I do not mean to say that labor does not suck, but in the grand scheme of things that suck, it wasn't that bad.

She let me know when to push and when to wait as she supported and assisted stretching and made sure the cord wasn’t around his neck. Then Norma told me it was all clear, so I pushed and out came his head and then his body.

He didn’t come out screaming. He was calm with eyes wide open. I tried to take him all in but my eyes felt inadequate to see all that he was.  His skin was light. He had hair. Lips more like mine. Eyes more like Daniel. He was long very long.

There I was standing in my bathroom, having just delivered a baby, and it wasn’t even noon. We relocated to the bed where I nursed for the first time watching these bright eyes look back at me. I didn’t count toes or fingers. I just let him grip my hand.

After the cord stopped pulsating, Daniel cut it, noting it was much tougher than he expected.

Then it was time to deliver the placenta, which was the only real hiccup. While it came out, I bled more than normal, though thankfully with Norma there, we were able to get things under control through nursing and massage.  After that, the focus switched to getting my energy levels back up.

Sheena made me a protein shake. I drank apple juice. I ate yogurt with honey and strawberries. I ate an apple and a spinach salad with eggs and walnuts and other goodies.

Then finally I ate a “gorilla” cheese sandwich and felt renewed because sometimes I’m just a girl who needs carbs, cheese, and butter.

Not 24 hours earlier, I had gone to bed unaware that by 1:30 a.m. I’d be in pre-labor; by 3:30 a.m., I’d have contractions to time; by 7:20 a.m., we’d call Norma and Sheena; by 9:30 a.m. I’d be 4 cm; and around 11 a.m., I’d be a mother, my husband a father, and our family happily expanded.

Welcome to the world Ennis:

In this one week, you've already been more than we ever hoped for.

I know there is a lot of curiosity about homebirth and am very open to answering questions. I promise I won’t make a blog post about what not to ask me about my homebirth, but instead I’ll write a Q&A blog if there are enough questions.

Bonus content:

About "Gorilla" Cheese - This adorable baby is Daniel. When he was a small child, he called grilled cheese sandwiches "gorilla" cheese. It is a known fact that he makes the best gorilla cheese sandwiches.

Don’t miss the photos of Ennis from his first 24 hours including one of our wonderful midwife Norma holding yet another baby she helped bring into the world.

Related posts:

Comments » 10 Responses to
On his first week anniversary: our birth story