Spoiler alert: I end up with a baby.

Chapter 3: How’d We Get Here?

You guys, I love water. I love hot tubs and bubble baths and showers and oceans and water-skiing and anything involving soaking in water. Some people need a beer or to watch Brian Williams on the Nightly News, but when I need to relax, I need water. Preferably large quantities of deep, warm, bubbly water.

I think this is what led me to have a natural birth in the first place: somewhere along the line I read about waterbirth.*

*I could not find a good website that discussed waterbirth that did not also have a large picture of a nearly-naked, just-gave-birth woman. I don’t want to be held accountable for linking someone to that if they don’t care to see it, so I would like to suggest googling “waterbirth” and clicking at your own discretion if you want to learn more.

Bottom line of waterbirth: hang out in a hot tub while I labor and end up with a baby.

My first thought: Where do I sign up?

Ok, so there’s a little more to it than that, but seriously! Laboring in a hot tub of water! Please try with me to wrap your mind around the awesomeness.

I know. I couldn’t either.

After researching more into hospitals that support waterbirths, I learned that waterbirth and having a huge needle in your spinal column actually don’t mix. In other words, if I wanted to do the water thing I could not do the epidural thing, but somehow the idea of not having an epidural sounded better to me than having one. This is not because I’m afraid of needles (which, as a faithful blood-giver, I’m not), but because I’m afraid of huge needles in my spinal column. ::shudder::

So, after DanO did not discount me as a total loon for wanting to have his first born son while sitting in a jacuzzi, we began looking into this realm of natural childbirth more seriously, at which point I found myself asking the question:

“Hey, if the epidural is off the table anyway, why not scrap all of the drugs while we’re at it?”

Then, as quick as a flash, we’d completed 10 weeks of natural childbirth classes which trained me in how to fully relax my body for contractions (instead of having drugs do the relaxing for me), et voila, suddenly I’m laying on a hospital bed in a drafty gown dilated to 7cm.

Chapter 4: Laboring on

After our doula, R, (whom I had remembered to call…) arrived and we were given a room, my first order of action was to get into the water because I absolutely love water.

Oh, I did? Sorry.

I spent a little time in a deep bathtub (this was just a bathtub for laboring, not a birthtub which look something like this). DanO and I had packed a few things to occupy ourselves if labor was a long haul, including a book we were reading together for fun. While I relaxed in the tub, DanO read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy aloud to me, pausing for contractions.

That’s right, OBaby, you came into the world to the croons of your father reading me a science-fiction novel. If that doesn’t scream “destined for nerdiness greatness” I don’t know what does.

After my fingers were sufficiently wrinkly and Ford Prefect had been reunited with his semi-cousin Zaphod Beeblebrox, I decided to get out of the tub and lay down for a while.  By the grace of God, I spent the next 40 min to an hour sleeping in couple minute spurts between contractions. Psychologically that was exactly what God knew I needed after being awake at that point for 24 hours. DanO was faithfully by my side the whole time.

Because who doesn’t want a picture of themselves in labor published for the world interweb to see?

As far as using the techniques and tools from our Bradley classes to help me relax: It completely worked. DanO and my doula R had minimal coaching to do to help me relax; I found my groove, tuned into my body, and went completely limp for every contraction. Because of that and the beautiful way God created my body, not once did the thought occur to me that the pain was bad and I would like some pain killers to help myself deal with it. I was dealing with it and it really truly was working.

After the contractions were coming so close together as to not leave room for sleeping anymore,¬† my midwife suggested I help things out a bit by walking, sitting on a birthing ball, or at least standing. I was tired but it was like my body knew that this is absolutely what I needed to do right now and so I didn’t really think twice. I remember standing up from laying down with such “git ‘er done” resolve that the nurse told me to sit back down for a moment because “nobody wants to deal with a passed out laboring woman“.

After fighting off light-headedness, I sat on the ball, walked around, and stood, leaning on DanO for contractions. This went on for about 3 hours and the highlight was eating the best strawberry popsicle I’ve ever had somewhere around 6am. 12 hours without any electrolytes is a long time when you’re working on expelling a human being from your body.

Chapter 5: The Tub

Around 7:00am I decided that I was ready for the birth tub, having felt like my body had worked very hard for the last 6 hours and that I was close to OBaby’s arrival.

I could not have asked for a better birth team – DanO, R, my midwife, and our l&d nurse – they listened to me and went with what I was feeling my body tell me. No one (after the initial admitting nurse who questioned the validity of my labor based on my countenance) ever second guessed me when I said what I wanted to do or what I needed. I’m also beyond grateful that I was able to tell what I wanted to do and what I needed. I don’t believe I would have been as keenly aware of those things had I had drugs in my system.

It was almost like I was sitting back and watching my body work. You guys, it rocked.

It took us a while to get to the waterbirth tub, since I was still having closely spaced contractions and we stopped walking for each of them. I finally got into the deep water of the birthing tub and it felt glorious at first, but I spent the next hour and a half trying to find a comfortable position in which to labor. I think I was too short to fit well into the molded seat and I kept floating up. I quickly realized that I was no longer aware of what my body was doing. R asked me if I was feeling the urge to push and I said I didn’t know.

Turns out I hated the birthing tub, but hello, was I really going to get out now?

This is when my midwife did something for which I will forever be singing her praises:

“Allison, it’s been about an hour and a half that you’ve been in the tub, and I like to ask my patients to get out of the water every 90 minutes or so to go to the bathroom.”

So I “had to” at least step out for a bit. Then: WHAM. The first contraction I had outside of the water and the urge to push that it brought with it hit me like a… like a… LIKE A LATE STAGE LABOR CONTRACTION. Could there be a better analogy? It felt like my insides were yanking themselves toward my outsides and screaming at me to PUSH FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, WE WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY ALREADY.

If I’d had the ability to breathe let alone think above all the screaming my insides were doing, I would have stopped, taken her by the hand, looked my midwife in the eyes and thanked her profusely for making up that bit about the every 90 minutes so that I would get out of the tub because she could tell how uncomfortable I was.

Instead I mumbled “I’m having the baby on the bed.” under my breath, which no one actually made out.

They must have put the pieces together when I waddled over to the bed in the room and laid down on it. I got comfortable, worked with those impossibly strong urges, and 65 minutes of pushing later I picked up my baby and held him to my chest.

Oh man. That picture kills me every time.

Chapter 6: In Conclusion

And then I cried. A lot. And don’t tell him I told you, but… DanO did too.

Micah Daniel

Born 10:10am July 16th 2009

7lb 11oz, 20.25 in

and perfect

But I’ve decided to give up on the latter and will resort to this:

If in the following story you perceive a twinge of smugness or any symptoms of i’msoholy-ididn’thaveanepidural-itis, please know that it was by no means intended.

Also, feel free to not read on if you don’t want to, you know, hear a birth story. Nothing too gory, but I wanted to avoid lawsuits complaints by warning you that this is in fact a birth story. A story about a birth. All non-birth story interested parties please exit now. Thank you.

~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Preparation

You must believe me when I tell you that OBABY’S BIRTH WAS AMAZING. I want to shout it because I think that every sister, aunt, grandma, stranger, and otherwise well-intentioned woman who has ever intentionally or inadvertently scared the buh-geezus out of a first time mom regarding labor and delivery NEEDS TO HEAR THIS:

BIRTH CAN BE WONDERFUL.

Please let me explain. Well, I don’t think I can adequately explain, but I will try. When delivering your baby becomes to you, mentally, an act that your body was created to do, when it is not fought but is welcomed as a natural, amazing way to meet your little one, birth stops being some horrifying and barely survivable unknown that your grandma told you you would hate, and oh-did-she-mention that YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE GETTING YOURSELF INTO…

and it becomes something that is beautiful, which is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

DanO and I took Bradley Birth classes for a whopping 10 weeks to prepare for the birth we wanted. We loved that this class had the mindset of empowering both the woman – that you and your body can do this (as did billions of women before you) – and the husband – by covering what to expect during labor, down to common emotional signposts and suggestions of how to help your wife through them. You guys, this class is exactly what every couple should hear, even if you think I’m a kook and the birth you envision includes having a big ‘ol epidural the moment you hear the number “4″; this class provides a perspective of birth that is positive and exciting, not fearful and anxious.

And come on, doesn’t every prego already have enough fear and anxiety producing labor stories being thrown at her like verbal vomit?

Chapter 2: Early Labor

I woke up at 3am on Wednesday with distantly spaced contractions that were good and strong. I say good and strong because that is what they are – each contraction was working (strong) to bring me closer to OBaby (good). From 3am, I labored all day, trying not to watch the clock too much. I went on a walk with my doula, cleaned, attempted to nap, and went to the grocery store to keep myself occupied. Throughout the day the contractions increased from 15 to 10 to 8 to 6 min apart by the time we “went to bed” Wednesday night. The plan was to go to the hospital when the contractions were steadily spaced every four minutes and lasting for a minute each, or “4-1-1″ (one hour of 4 min apart lasting for one min.).

Wait, did you say “doula”?

Yes, DanO and I chose to have a doula for our birth. It’s kind of an old school turned new school idea (so old/new school apparently that Mozilla thinks I spelled it wrong) of having an experienced woman that can come alongside the husband/wife team for the labor and delivery. Her primary purpose is to support the husband as he supports his wife. Our Doula, R, was also one of our amazing Bradley Birth instructors and has a wonderfully gentle and positive presence, so it was a joy to have her with us.

(back to the contractions)

I woke up at 11:20 with them coming 2 and 3 min apart. We waited to see if they would keep that pace. Well, I waited, DanO groggily tried to wake himself. (Remember when I said here that if labor started in the middle of the night DanO might ahem, have a hard time?) They kept that pace for a full hour, so we called our doula to meet us at the hospital, and our parents to let them know the news.

Except, I forgot to call the hospital to tell them we were on our way. The number had been on a post-it in my wallet for a month now, and when the time came to use it, I completely forgot. Something about the sheer force of your abdomen turning into concrete every 2 minutes can make one forgetful, it seems?

But apparently we had the clarity of mind to stop and photograph the occasion.

O wow, I don’t miss that one bit.

We arrived at the hospital at 1:10am and when we got to the nurses’ station I apologized for not calling and made small talk with the nurses. I must have been a bit too chipper, because when I suggested that DanO go back to the car and grab our overnight bag, the nurse that was admitting me said “Well, let’s just see if you’ll actually be staying.”

Oh honey, I’ll be staying, I thought. You should feel these. I am willing to bet large amounts of baby clothing that I WILL BE STAYING.

5 minutes later: “Oh wow! You’re already dilated past 7!” said the nurse who thought that I was surely too lively to actually be in labor.

“Oh, so, does that mean we’re staying?”

(Ok, so that smugness was intended…)

~~~~~~

I just noticed that I have reached a record setting word count on this post, and for the sake of your retinas (and because this story is definitely good enough to justify multiple posts), I officially declare this birth story:

To be continued…

[Update to the original post: You can find PART TWO of the story here.]

~~~~~~

I am a new woman because of him:

Introducing Nugget cum O’Baby! Angel face seems to be a well suited moniker also. He’s got his dad’s family’s lips and my cheeks (someone said), but I just think he resembles heaven.

DanO actually got about 7 hours of sleep last night after we had been up for 43 hours straight. Fortunately, he was able tune out O’Baby’s¬† tiny, precious cooing noises.

I, on the other hand, stared at him intently for about 7 hours.

You guys, I would not trade him for the world.

And I would take baby holding forearms over drywall dust-covered ones any day.

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