Kiera's Coming

(please keep on mind this is being written 15-18 months later)

I woke up to a sunny, warm June Morning. Having spent the weekend trying NOT to go into labor (due to the one midwife I didn't want in attendance being on-call), I was thrilled to still be pregnant. At 10 AM the midwives would switch, and my beloved Val, the same midwife present for the arrival of Morgan, would be my gal. As Troy got up and began to ready himself for work, I got anxious--I didn't want him to go. Just didn't. I wasn't having contractions or any other labor signs, I just DIDN'T want him to leave me. I even asked if he could call in, which he said seemed silly, as he would loose a day of paternity leave. Plus he was really looking forward to getting that phone call ("It's TIME!") and having the TV sitcom scene of grabbing his coat and briefcase, bellowing to his team that he's having a baby, and dashing out of the branch. He is SUCH a drama queen.

I couldn't rest anymore, and thought about getting out of bed. Minutes, and I mean minutes, after Troy drove away, I began having contractions. I wasn't ready to call it labor, but did let Troy and my parents (who were staying with us) know. We had a midwife appointment at 11:30, so we set about getting ready for that. The contractions continued sporadically until we were on the road headed to the birth center. Figures.

My appt was with Ali, who is one of the gentlest creatures you will ever meet. Everyone who meets her wants to give birth with her, whether they are pregnant or not. She is also wise and very down-to-earth--when I had asked her to check my cervix the week before (not a routine practice with midwives as it isn't a good indicator of when labor will start and is, as they say, "quite rude"), she had agreed but on the condition that "if I find you're 4 or 5 cm, you have to swear you won't walk around for the next week all freaked out that you're about to drop the baby on the floor." I agreed, and she found me to be 3 ("though I could stretch you to 5 if you wanted, you're so stretchy"--I did not want, as my dad had yet to arrive).

Ali was running a bit behind, so the student midwife, Tanya, started the appt. We chatted about how close I was, how I was feeling, and about her upcoming trip to San Diego (when she learned my parents were from CA). The kids were behind me playing on the bed (they hold their appointments in the birth suites, which are like jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt) with toys they'd drug in from the family room.

My midwives of course know I am a doula, and tend to treat me more as a colleague than a client-so Ali sashayed in, gave a big sigh, and vented a little about how busy that day was for them. She then said, "I can NOT believe Val told you to just wait to have the baby." (This was in regards to my calling Val Saturday night (she had given me her personal number for this reason) to see if she was available as I felt like I was going into labor then and didn't want the on-call midwife. She had informed me that she'd just had a couple of drinks and was about to join her husband in the bedroom-and that if she didn't, it would be very bad for her marriage, so could I please ask the baby to wait? So I drank 2 ounces of wine every four hours, which is a totally safe method of halting early labor contractions, and did my best to comply.)

We discussed my morning contractions, and whether I would like to have my baby today. Ali said she would rather I didn't, as she needed Val to help her with clinic appointments, but after seeing that my blood pressure was elevated again we decided she should check me and do some cervical stimulation to get things going again. She started her exam (this woman is so gentle, her cervical exams are COMFORTABLE), and announced, "OK, you're 4...and now you're 5." She did a little more messing around to help release some more hormones and stimulate contractions. When she was done she looked me in the eye and said, "and now you're going home--you're not making any stops, and you're going to lie down for an hour so your blood pressure doesn't get any higher. Right?" This was followed by another plea to hold out long enough that she wouldn't loose Val. She said she'd be surprised if I didn't have my baby that day, but that made her sad because she wouldn't get to be at my birth. I told her she was more than welcome to join the party, but she had a faculty meeting at the midwifery school that she couldn't get out of because her partner would be at a birth. Ali's funny.

We packed up to head home, and once again I pleaded with Troy to come with us. At this point I wasn't having labor contractions, but I could feel them coming. Like a storm brewing over the ocean. He insisted on going to work (again with the whole drama thing) and swore he would leave as soon as I needed him. We headed home. My contractions started the minute we hit the freeway. It was just about 12:30.

The contractions were mild at first, and not very long, about 5 minutes apart. I spent the ride home (mom was driving) making phone calls-to Troy, telling him he shouldn't have gone back to work (he STILL didn't leave right away), to Erin (my best friend who has video taped all our births), to Katie (other best friend who was at Morgan's birth and would be helping with the kids), and of course to my doula. And get THIS-after all I'd gone through holding off labor, first waiting for dad, then for Val, my doula had already been called by another client whose water had broken that morning. It became a race to see who would need her first, and who would get her backup (which would have been ok, as I had picked the doula who would come in that event, and loved her too-but I really wanted MY doula, damn it!).

We arrived home around 1 pm, and my parents set about making lunch. My mom also got out the chicken soup I had made in advance and frozen (my "birth soup"-that's funny 'cause it's what Val calls the water in the tub after baby is born) and put it in the crockpot so we'd all have something warm and nutritious later on. I laid down on the couch. For about a minute.

I spent the next hour playing whack-a-mole with myself. I would try to lay down, have another contraction, and bounce back up-remembering some other little thing I wanted done before everyone arrived. I kept texting Troy, hating--HATING that he wasn't with me and complaining quite vocally about how it just didn't feel right (I'd never been in labor without him). Around 2 PM I called my doula again, and Hooray! I won the race! I felt a little bad for the other woman, but my doula assured me that she had not been phased at all, and was happy with her backup doula. Troy arrived a few minutes later, and my very next contraction was significantly more intense. My doula arrived at 2:30, and again my contractions intensified (having my people was very important to my ability to progress). Somewhere in there Erin came in, too (I had put a sign on the door asking for no knocking "homebirth in progress" so I didn't always notice people arriving). We all decided it was time to call in the midwives (I had called at 2 to let them know I was laboring, and they were just waiting for me to say I was ready for them). During this time my contractions where intense, but not really painful--lots of tightening and pressure pulling my belly down, some discomfort but I was so excited to BE in LABOR, it all just felt good. I'm serious. I knew what I was doing, how to respond to my body, how to move, I always had someone close to hug or hang onto, it all just felt beautiful. The kids were watching the Little Mermaid and playing with Erin and Katie, who was there now as well (until Mom put Morgan down for a nap). I was having some back pain, so my doula heated up her flax sock and secured it to my low back with her rebozo (a long, wide scarf). She and Troy made up the bed with the shower curtain under old sheets, and I sat in our dressing room where the tub was filling, rocking in my chair, sipping the iced red raspberry leaf tea (uterine tonic) my doula made sure was always nearby and listening to Jewel on my Ipod. It all just seemed so normal, but at the same time so extraordinary.

Val arrived a little after 3 PM with Tanya and another student midwife. Rather than the tensing and anxiousness that often accompanies the entrance of the care provider at a birth, there was an all-around sense of excitement and happiness, and I was finally able to fully relax. It was time. They were all here. I was having this baby, in my home, under my own power, exactly the way we had planned.

Troy and I headed into the bedroom with Val to check up on my cervix. She announced I was 6 cm, and said she could break my water if I wanted. I didn't want. I am, generally, pretty anti-breaking water. Sometimes it's very effective at speeding things up, but really, do they need to be sped? We discussed whether I wanted the antibiotics for my Group B strep (I had tested positive as 1 in 3 women do, and standard protocol calls for antibiotics every 4 hrs during labor to protect the baby from infection--though the risk of infection is so small (nearly non-existant with an intact amniotic sac), and the risk of complication even smaller, and the evidence that the antibiotics are helpful isn't very convincing to me), and I decided that since I wasn't progressing as rapidly as we'd thought I might, we'd try one dose. This requires a "butterfly," a needle attached to a tube running to an IV bag, held in place by sticky wings, be inserted into a vein and a small bag of fluid with the meds in it squeezed in. Takes about 10 minutes. Thing is, it only works if the liquid goes into your vein. For whatever reason, that would NOT happen. The students tried twice, and Val gave it one last go-at which time I told her if it didn't work, that was that-and she agreed. They could get the needle in just fine, but when they'd begin to push the fluid, it would just come out. Right out the little hole in my skin. If they pushed harder it would push the needle out, too. So weird. Val finally said, "It's obvious your body doesn't want this, and who am I to argue with that?" No antibitiocs. I LOVE out of hospital birth.

Somewhere in this time period, Troy helped me climb the stairs with big lunging steps to try and get baby better seated in my cervix and thus bring on stronger contractions. While labor was progressing, I knew that my contractions weren't long enough (about 30-45 seconds) to actually get the baby out, even if I were ready to push. I went to the bathroom to sit on the toilet for awhile, as this is a great position for labor-whilst there, I checked my own cervix-I couldn't tell dilation, but I could feel the sac and I messed around for a bit to see if I could break my water myself. I was beginning to get a little frustrated with my lack of progress, and was conflicted about the whole "water breaking" thing-I knew it would help, but I really wanted to just be patient and let things happen. Moot point anyway, because I couldn't break it.

Back in the living room, Garrett was harassing all the grown-ups into playing video games and those not engaged with him were socializing. Troy and I took our leave at around 4:30 and went into the bedroom to lay down together for awhile. That was so nice-so peaceful and comforting, so safe, snuggled together in our own comfy bed, talking softly and giggling. Unfortunately I had to pee again.

I tried tearing my sac again while on the toilet, but apparently I have very tough membranes (this would be proven later). We wandered back into the living room, and I told Val I thought I wanted to be checked again, and maybe have her break my water. She sent Tanya into the bedroom to set up the birth stool with a basin under it to catch the fluid, should I decide to go ahead. I sat on the edge of the sofa for awhile, with Troy on one side and my doula on the other. Up until this point during contractions I wanted to be leaning forward-either hold onto a person's shoulders or the wall-but now I wanted to sit right on the edge of the couch, where I could feel the front edge against my pelvic floor and rock back and forth over it. I asked mom to wake up Morgan (it was now about 5:30). She stumbled out, quite groggy, and came to hug me-until she saw that Grandpa was finishing up filling the birth tub (he and Grandma actually boiled big pots of water to help warm it up). She squealed, "I'm going to get my babing-suit!" and took off. During this time Garrett would come and give me hugs, and when she came back (indeed in her babing-suit), she hugged me through contractions. It was very sweet. Contractions grew more intense, and I began to moan through them-I thought to myself that I should be sitting on a chux pad in case my water broke, and looked up to see Val standing in front of me, holding one. "You read my mind!" "No, I read your contraction."

After a bit I stood up to make my way into the bedroom for the checking. It took me awhile, as it always does in labor-it's hard to make good time walking when you have to stop every few minutes to sway and breathe heavy. In the midst of one of these walking breaks (one of my favorite memories, as I was leaning on my mom with Val on one side and my doula on the other, rubbing my back), my dad began telling someone how odd the animals had been acting all day-that Dervish, our cat, would jump up in his lap right next to Sk8ter, their dog, and not care he was there. Troy, without missing a beat, comes out with, "Dogs and cats, living together, MASS HYSTERIA!" (a cookie to you if you get it). OH MY GOD. I laughed so hard, I almost fell down. Totally cut my contraction in half. Everyone was hysterical, made even more so when they noticed that my bare belly was shaking like a bowl-full-o-jelly through my laughter. Between chortles Val announced, "Well if that doesn't break your water, nothing will!" This sudden joviality derailed my trek to the bedroom however, as I suddenly REALLY needed the bathroom again. This really got them chuckling in the living room-they'd here me giggling, then quiet through a contraction, then immediately giggling again. I couldn't stop. Labor does that to you-the hormones make you fell things more intensely, and at that moment, I was feelin' silly. I could not stop. I giggled all the way down the hallway, giggled into the bedroom. I giggled as I sat on the stool (a birth stool is like a toilet seat on legs). I REALLY giggled when I looked over to see my doula crawling towards me (there wasn't a lot of room to move), slowly, with the breeze from the fan blowing her hair just so...rraaaaowwwlll (that's a sassy jungle cat sound). Val checked me, and said I was still 6-and that my cervix was sitting wonky on the baby's head, on the back instead of the top. She said if I wanted, she could hang out there through a contraction and help move it forward. I said go for it, and giggled some more. I thought that must feel awfully strange to Val, she said she was just trying not to poke me. I had a contraction-holy CRAP did I have a contraction. I did NOT giggle. Suddenly there was what I'd been waiting for-long, strong, and waaaaay productive-at the end of that single contraction, with a little help from Val, I was 9 cm and ready for the tub--no water breaking necessary.

I shucked my shorts (left on a bikini top, if you're wondering), and made my way to the tub, As I eased into the water, my people began to settle in around me. The room was awesome-Troy and I have two small bedrooms that are joined by french doors, one room housing our bed, the other our dressers and rocking chair (this would also house the baby's cradle in coming months). We call it our "dressing room", and that's where the tub was set up. There was just enough room for everyone to find a place around the tub, and for the kids to be able to move from one spot to another. They were beyond excited, but really contained themselves rather well (with the help of the student midwife teaching them how to play I Spy). There was much concern about the temperature of the water, which to me felt perfect. I sat on my heels in the middle of my inflatable birth pool and absorbed the moment. Birth is a fantastic unifier-rarely will you see a group of people exist together so fluidly, so seamlessly, as if they had been together always and would be evermore. They drew in around me like a hug, settling onto pillows, ottomans, birth balls, laps, with smiles and soothing words. Such peace, such joy. Morgan clambered over the side of the pool and sat with me a little while-a very little while, as her excitement nearly made our tub runneth over (inflatable pools wiggle) and unfortunately I could not handle her movement mid-contraction. So out she went, into a waiting towel. That became my only rule-nobody touch the pool while I contract.
Between contractions we chatted, laughed, I swirled around in the water playing with different positions. Val asked how much help I wanted catching the baby, and we agreed I would do as much as I could. My doula and Katie snapped pictures as we all waited for what we were sure would be iminent pushing. Really, I expected to start pushing-gently, slowly-as soon as I got in the water. But birth doesn't like to be predicted, and decided to make us wait a little bit. Build anticipation. While sitting on my heels again, I thought a felt a small gush-maybe my water had finally broken. I reported this to the midwives. Val took note, and reminded me that the next contraction would likely feel different and to put my mind and body were they needed to be for that. Whether my water actually broke or I am just so autosuggestive that her words were all I needed I don't know-but indeed my next contraction felt different, and I began to bear down. Not much, just enough to test the waters and let my body know it was time to open. I waited for the next urge, excitement building as I remembered the satisfaction of Morgan's slow, controlled delivery-how I moved her with purpose, my body and I working together to deliver her without damage or urgency. I waited for that urge, and with the next contraction, didn't feel it. Ok. That's fine. It will come. Val asked if I felt pinchy in the front, and I said no-not remembering that she asked for a reason. With the next contraction I felt the urge again, and pushed-but felt like the baby wasn't moving. Odd. Morgan had moved so well. I tried again, and still nothing. They say the third baby's a wild card. I tried again. The best way I can describe it was like pushing against a trampoline-the baby would move down, and then almost bounce back up. Every time I pushed Morgan would announce, "I see the baby!" and my mother would turn to the phone on the dresser (my sister was listening in from California) and whisper "no she doesn't." Ah-there's the pinching Val was asking about. Val asked my permission to check and see if I had an anterior cervical lip (when a small portion of the cervix doesn't soften and can't move easily past the baby's head). Ah, crap. There it is. Would I like her to "reduce" it (meaning manually push it back)-well, my sister had a lip that went unnoticed, and pushed against it for nearly 3 hours before it was reduced. I chose NOT to do that. Val talked gently to me about remaining relaxed through the next contraction when she will worked her magic-and apologized profusely for the side effects. Here it comes--HOLY SH*$#(%()@$*)^@)$*)TTTTTT!!!!! "Mommy you're hurting my ears!" "She's compete now" and WHOMP somebody dropped a BOWLING BALL on my perineum. Wild, uncontrollable pushing, and her head was fully crowning- "You don't have to do it all at once sweetie, you don't have to do it all at once, take a breath, that's right." In that one second I moved from casual conversation to complete encampment in labor land-my head lolled on the tub, I moaned, I felt Troy's hands on my hair and Mom's hands on my shoulder. I heard Morgan's chatter but not the words, and responded to none of it. And then it was building again, the raging storm, the pressure, the power-and I was wild. A little part of me knew I could slow down, it would be better-but the rest of me was unable. In one massive move her head was delivered. Sweet relief. The bowling ball was out. A little of my mind came back, and I looked at my baby's head in the water. "Where's your hair??" Val-"It's under the sac, look, she's in the caul." (Here's where the tough membranes come in-if my water broke, it was a little hole. Kiera was born in the sac (well, her head was). This may sound odd, but is has long been thought to be a good omen and to us alternative birthers, it's pretty awesome. )
Val did her preliminary exam of the baby's delivery status while we waited for the final contraction, and found her to have the cord around her neck. I was not surprised, as she was such a tosser in utero there was no way she wouldn't be tangled in the cord. This required Val to tear the sac so that she could attemt to slide the cord over her head, or loosen it enough that the baby could be born through it. She couldn't get much slack, and we had a few seconds of tension deciding whether to cut the cord now or not-and then there was no time- final surge, the final heave, and my baby was born at 6:36 PM, exactly 6 hours after the onset of labor. She moved gracefully through the water as Val slowly pulled her up (her delivery was so intense I had both hands braced against the floor of the tub to lift myself off my bottom, and sadly was unable to catch her myself). The little booger had the cord around her neck not once but twice, as well as around her belly and around one thigh. So instead of handing her straight to me, Val took about 5 seconds to unwind her-during which time Troy and I got our first glimpse of the goods and were overjoyed to be the first to discover we'd had a daughter. Val finally freed her and placed her in my hands. I drew her tiny body to my chest, kissed her, peeked between her legs to verify, and announced to the assemblege "we have a baby girl."
Now I am a big ole' crier. I cry over everything. Join me in Disneyland and you'd better bring a box of tissues. Weepy Mc-weeperson. But I had never cried after giving birth. It surprised me, and dissappointed me-was I really not as moved by my child's emergence into the world as I was by Mickey Mouse? Who knew. But when I made that announcement, and I looked back at my tiny daughter-held her hand-something beyond tremendous washed over me. I sobbed. Really sobbed. Huge, wracking, TV drama sobs. I would get myself collected, and then it would hit me again. This was it. Everything I'd ever wanted. Garrett beside me, asking if she had bones. Morgan in my mother's lap, begging to hold her before she was even out of the water. My father, who'd been unable to attend my other two births crying softly with my sister (who was still on speakerphone). Troy smiling so hard I could feel it, even though he was behind me. And Kiera so calm, so peaceful they had to suction her to get her to cry. She just looked at me, at her family-when Garrett spoke to her she turned to him in recognition. When he asked if he could touch her, so cautious, I cried again. Morgan ran out of the room to get clothes for her new sister and came back in with everything she could carry. Hands down, no contest, the most fun, exciting, fulfilling, empowering, loving, enormous and extraordinary day I could ever hope to experience. The day my family was born.
Kinda makes you want to have a baby, doesn't it?