I have always wanted to be a mom. I’ve had a list of potential baby names since I was 12 years old. I had it all planned out: married at 25, first baby at 27. But , since I turned 21 today, and my two year wedding anniversary is coming up and I’m writing my baby boy’s birth story, that obviously didn’t happen.
Lets start at the beginning! Last Sept. I was at work taking care of the babies when my boss came in and corrected me about something. I don’t even remember what it was, but I started crying. HARD. For about an hour. When I told my mom about it later, she asked if I was on my period. I told her not yet but in my head I started counting. And counting again. When I got home I took 3 pregnancy tests before I called Bryan at work to tell him the news. The next week I went to see my wonderful midwives and found out I was 6 weeks. As I started telling people we were pregnant and planning a home birth, I got a lot of different responses. But I’m going to write a whole post about that later. :)
Now jump ahead to Memorial weekend. Saturday was my due date, and I honestly felt like I had at least another week of pregnancy left. Bryan and I went to see Hangover 3 with our siblings. We got home pretty late, but I still had a hard time going to sleep. Sunday morning, I was supposed to babysit, but I felt really strange so I canceled and spent the day vegging on the couch. I woke up Monday around 4am with contractions about 10 minutes apart and did my best to sleep through them. At about 7am I texted Kat (my midwife) that I had been having regular contractions for 3 hours. She told me to go about my day and keep her updated.
Bryan and I went to my parents house around 830 and I bounced on my yoga ball watching NCIS while my mom made me some eggs and and turkey sausage and Bryan timed my contractions. A little after 9:30 my contractions really started reaching higher on the pain scale, so we decided to go home. Good thing to because about 10 mins after getting home, my water broke. Bryan called the midwives and everything after that just kind of blurs together.
I remember the midwives showing up and thinking the contractions weren’t as bad as I thought they would be (ha!). I sat on my ball for awhile in the living room with my head on Bryan’s lap and holding his hands through contractions. I was feeling pretty positive about everything and really excited to meet my baby. Then, honestly, there is a HUGE gap. The midwives had me walk around and that made the contractions way worse…. and I think I went to the restroom somewhere in that time frame? And even though I don’t remember eating the apple or drinking orange juice, I know that I did because I puked it up later…
The next thing I remember clearly was trying to get the baby to turn. The midwives had me laying on my side on the edge of the bed with the medicine ball in between my legs. That was seriously the longest part of labor. The contractions felt awful and it took 2 people at a time to support me so I wouldn’t roll off the bed. Somewhere in the middle of that position I threw up into one of our sauce pans and I remember thinking how awful that sound was. But eventually I did get to get out of that position and get in the birth pool. Which, by the way, felt amazing. I think it was only about 4 or 5 in the afternoon at this point. Everyone else started eating some dinner my mom had dropped off but I didn’t want any because I didn’t want to puke. My amazing husband sat behind me and helped hold me up through contractions so I could sway in the water.
Those last few hours went really fast. I’m not really sure what I was thinking or if I even really was. I’m pretty sure I was just zoned out. Around 9 o’clock things started getting intense. The midwives had me try a Captain Morgan position, which I tried for about half a second before thinking “fuck no”. I was seriously ready to quit. I told Kat that I couldn’t do it. And she replied ” You can get this baby out, or we can go to the hospital and they can take it out”. I thought about having to go down the stairs and sitting in the car and then filling out paperwork… And hell no. I got a second wind :)
I did a few contractions in a Captain Morgan-like position and it was time to push. For a few minutes I tried pushing in a semi-sitting position, but everything about it just felt wrong. My body seemed to just flip over on its own and I felt a bazillion times better on all fours. Caitlyn kept telling me it was time to be mama bear and get my baby out. I felt super freaked out and excited and powerful all at the same time. I pushed with all my might and felt a release of pressure. I thought maybe I had got his head out or at least SOMETHING. But no, it was a tear. But a few pushes later he was out. Someone told me to take my baby and there he was. 8 pounds, 2 ounces. 20 inches long. Perfect and amazing and beautiful. A little on the blue side, but the midwives blew some oxygen in his face and he was fine. I was so shocked holding him. I couldn’t believe it was over and he was mine (and Bryans…)
After bonding with him for a bit he got handed over to Bryan and I got to take a shower. Its probably selfish, but in the shower all I could think about was that it was over! I had done it! No meds, at home, in the pool. Everything that I wanted. After the shower, there was a bit of drama with my blood pressure and a catheter and other not fun things, but then I finally got to settle in and feed my baby in bed and EAT. Then his newborn exam and clean up. We were finally tucked in for the night around 2 am. I had a hard time falling asleep even though I had been awake for almost 24 hours. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of my beautiful baby.
The whole thing was such a rush and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. (Except maybe the whole catheter part…) My husband was so amazing and supportive and my midwives were wonderful and helpful and I got the birth experience that I wanted. And I have my handsome Jude Taylor. <3