Birth Story #3: Home Sweet Home
It was the day after my due date when all patience and rationality went out the window. I had previously been feeling at peace with this baby’s arrival, more curious about how and when she’d make her appearance than impatient or anxious. However, after my due date came and went, a switch was flipped. I spent the entire day in a downward spiral, fully convinced she’d wait until Christmas Day to be born, therefore “ruining” our anticipated Christmas plans and my ability to be fully present to create and soak in the holiday magic for her big brothers. Mom guilt was in full effect.
That afternoon, I had my scheduled 40-week appointment with my midwife. All was well; baby girl was measuring beautifully, my stats were perfect, and there was nothing to do but wait. My appointment essentially turned into a 30-minute therapy session with my midwife, where I expressed my “she’s never going to come” anxieties (bless whole-person wellness and compassionate providers). I left feeling reassured that there was no rush, everyone was healthy, and I had options like a membrane sweep and a 41-week NST should I need them. I then strolled to a nearby Mediterranean cafe for a lunch pick-me-up and promptly carried on with my emotional breakdown.
In retrospect, maybe my day spent stressing and crying was baby’s way of sending me one last pregnant meltdown before joining us earthside. Maybe I should have recognized it as a pre-labor sign, a huge surge of hormones getting ready to do their thing. Or maybe I was just a hot mess. But later that night, she’d start to make her way to us.
Just after midnight, I had what I thought was the beloved late-pregnancy lightning crotch sensation keeping me awake. It felt sharp, like a quick zap of electricity, starting near my pubic bone and traveling all the way up my belly. I thought maybe I was laying in a funky position and baby was pinching a nerve, so I went downstairs to sleep more upright on the couch and see if that was more comfortable. After about 15 minutes of this failed attempt at sleep, I realized that these zaps were recurring. By 12:30am, they were coming every 3-5 minutes and lasting about 40 seconds, even when I was seated and completely still. For the first time I thought maybe it wasn’t positional or lightning crotch- maybe these were contractions, albeit the sharpest contractions I’d ever experienced, nothing like those from my first two labors.
During my first two births, I’d describe my contractions as feeling low (in location and in pitch, if that makes any sense) and warm. They very much felt like a period cramp that gradually radiated upward. While certainly uncomfortable, my natural instinct was to groan and sway through them, and I coped fairly easily this way. These contractions, on the other hand, felt high-pitched, sharp, and pinchy from the start. I found myself wincing, sucking in air through clenched teeth, and alternating between coming up to tip-toes and crouching down in a ball. I had a much harder time breathing and relaxing than I had with my first two, and because these sensations felt so completely different from before, I still wasn’t fully convinced this was labor.
I woke my husband and had him start prepping our room for the home birth just in case this was it. Plus I figured worst case, a warm bath might help to ease whatever was going on in my body. He got to work making the bed, laying plastic on the carpet, and inflating and filling the birth pool. Meanwhile, I sent a text to my midwives and followed up with a call to wake them at around 12:50am. At this point, my “not-contractions” were lasting about 60 seconds and coming every 2 minutes. Clearly still in denial, our phone conversation went something like this: “I still don’t think this is labor. These don’t feel anything like the contractions I’ve had in the past; it’s probably just dehydration or positional, but wanted to give you a heads up in case. I’ll keep monitoring and will keep you posted!”
Thankfully, my midwife has way better instincts. They immediately hung up the phone and headed my way, despite my being so wishy-washy.
One of my two midwives arrived at 1:30am, at which point I was pacing like a caged animal between contractions and squatting low and growling like one during. Though it wasn’t in my plan, I asked for a cervical check at this time, “to see if I was making this up and could send everyone home.” Lo and behold, I was 8cm dilated and 100% effaced, and baby was sitting at a -1 station with a bulging bag of waters. Finally allowing myself to actually be in labor, I got into the warm tub for some instant yet incomplete relief.
Though laboring in the water helped tremendously, especially for relaxation in between contractions, the sensation was still super sharp and intense. I found myself seated on my knees during the brief moments of calm, resting my head on the edge of the inflated birth pool, and hunching forward and squeezing its edges when contractions came. I continued this way for about 15 minutes until I could feel that baby had descended and was ready to come out. The feeling of her entire skull sitting low in my pelvis, along with the still intact water bag ready to burst, was insane and something I don’t remember registering with either of my first two births. I was so ready to get past this feeling, I asked my midwives if breaking my water would help move things along. Thankfully, they stood by my not-in-the-full-throes-of-labor wishes and calmly reassured me that my water would break in its own time, that everything was great and there was no rush. With this, I repositioned into a half squat, half lunge and started to bear down and push into the pressure.
Baby’s head was partially out when my water finally broke, releasing a huge amount of pressure. She sat there for a couple minutes, earthside to just below her nose, which I’ll say did not feel wonderful. I tried to focus on my breath and be patient, letting her come in her own time and waiting for the next surges to push, but I was vocal enough at this point that my little guy woke up in the next room over. Thankfully after a few “mamas?!” heard on the baby monitor, he settled himself and went back to sleep.
Just after 2am and approximately 5 (maybe 10?) minutes of pushing, our baby girl’s head was born. I reached down to support her as I gave one more push and grabbed under her shoulders, bringing her up to my chest and reclining into the back of the birth pool. After a moment or two of restful snuggles, baby girl needed a bit of toweling off and stimulation to really vocalize, but she quickly started to clear any gunk in her throat and looked and sounded great. My midwives helped me dry off and move to the bed to birth the placenta and bundle up for several glorious hours of early morning skin-to-skin. I’ll never forget those hours of peace while the big kids slept, snacking and snuggling with my husband and our fresh, squishy babe in our own bed, relieved to have her here and safe and be through with the most intense yet empowering labor I’d ever experienced.
