Our Third Home Birth

7:30 AM

I woke up extra early on the Fourth of July. I was 41 weeks and 2 days pregnant, and I had been feeling like my body was about to "go" any day. I was feeling it so much, in fact, that I went to Target the night before and bought myself a bunch of postpartum things I needed- a new nursing bra, a comfy shirt, some postpartum underwear (if you've ever had a baby, you know what I mean). 

As I woke up that morning, I felt like it could be the day. I had been sleeping lightly due to cramping. Getting up and moving around, I recognized them as mild contractions. I didn't time them, because past false-alarms from my previous births had left me a bit jaded.

My husband brought me breakfast, I texted my midwife and birth photographer to let them know I was having some deep contractions, and I went back to bed. I made the mistake of not doing this with my first two labors. If it was real, I knew I'd wake up for it. 

And I did- the contractions got stronger and more consistent, waking me up about every 10 minutes. 

10:15 AM

I was tentatively confident that I was in early labor. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up to get myself and the girls dressed and ready for the day. In between contractions, I did my hair and makeup, got dressed, put the kids in their Fourth of July dresses, and did their hair. I could feel that labor was coming on stronger every minute- the contractions were getting deeper, and I was less and less able to focus on my other activities. 

I was leaning over our couch during one contraction as my three year old sang a little song. Something like, "I'm helping Mommy, I'm bringing her a pineapple, and a castle cake..." (The plush pineapple and Lego "castle cake" were brought and placed by my head as she sang this). She hugged my head and stroked my face with her tiny little hand, and that may have been my favorite contraction of the entire day. That moment stuck with me for the rest of my labor. I went back to it multiple times, when the contractions were much harder, and it kept me grounded. 

It wasn't long after this that my three year old announced, I think partly in reaction to my pain, "I want to go see Grandma." We had already planned on the girls spending the night at their house that night, as a second "practice run" for when baby came. My three year old had been saying that she wanted to be there for the birth, but we all had a sneaking suspicion she might change her mind. And she did. Grandma's house was just so much more fun than watching mom wander around, having contractions. (Who could blame her?)

12:00 PM

The girls left with my mom, and I went back upstairs to my bedroom.
The real world started its transition of drifting away and I began falling deeper and deeper into Labor Land- that space where time both flies and doesn't move at all- where the only reality is that which is happening in the body. 

My contractions were getting stronger each time, but were still irregular. 9 minutes. 8 minutes. 12 minutes. I had my husband text my midwife to keep her updated. 

The next two hours I spent laboring (still inconsistently), trying various things to cope with the growing intensity. 

I got in a warm Clary Sage bath at some point, and tried to drink a mug of organic grass-fed bone broth (you know, the really expensive good stuff) that I had been saving for labor. It was a shot in the dark, as I had, in my previous labors, never been able to eat or drink anything (that wasn't practically forced on me) due to terrible nausea. I got a few sips down before giving up on it and going back to ice water. 

I went back to bed, and found that the pain was so much worse lying down. And so, back to laboring on my knees over the side of my bed I went. It was the only position I could tolerate, and I was still trying to get baby boy to turn. He was posterior, as he had been for the last week. We had been trying lots of Spinning Babies techniques in hopes that he would turn, to no avail. (We were planning to do acupuncture in a few days, but he beat us to the punch!)

2:00 PM

My contractions had begun to come closer - 6 to 10 minutes apart- and the back and pelvis pressure had set in. That posterior baby wasn't messing around in there! I coped (a little) with a heating pad laid across my lower back/pelvis.

4:00 PM

My husband had been in contact with our midwives over text, and around 4:00, they arrived to check in. I don't remember much of what they said or what they did. They were minimally important in my head. Jen (my primary midwife) put pressure on my hips to relieve some of the pain from the back labor. They checked on baby's heartbeat with the Doppler. They had me eat some saltine crackers with my water to make sure I was taking the water in. And then they went downstairs to let me labor in my dark bedroom with my husband. 

I felt close, but I didn't trust my instinct. I had felt close with my second labor several times and was crushed and infuriated when it just kept going and going- 5 hours longer than my first birth.

I told my husband I wanted to go to the hospital. I said I wanted an epidural. I said I couldn't do this- that the back labor was too strong and I couldn't labor like this all day and night. He told me I could do it, that I had already done it, and that I needed to not say that anymore if I didn't actually want to be taken in, because they would have to take me to the hospital if I was truly asking to. (It's that whole "consent" thing... such a pain, right?)

4:30 PM

My birth photographer, Monet, arrived soon after. I was half-aware at this point, mentally. I should have known how far into labor I was by this lack of clarity, but, well, I was too far gone for that.  I saw her and thought "hello," but couldn't say it, so I put my head down on my bed and had more contractions instead. (Sorry, Monet!)

Time and labor moved on. I cried a couple of times. I snapped at my husband to STOP TOUCHING ME (once that I recall). I noted all the changes in my body- I had been spotting, I began to lose my mucus plug, my legs felt truly unhinged from my hip sockets, I was shakier and more nauseous... But I tried to not project how close I was to the end. I didn't want to be wrong. 

I had gone from breathing through my contractions to humming through them, to moaning through them, to roaring through them- and then one came that stood out to me. It was so deep and so intense that I was completely silent through it. I knew it was significant but I was too far away to recognize why. It passed, and I rested for what seemed like a long time. Then another one. So intense, so long. I wondered if I was in transition and then pushed that thought away. 

I had the thought to labor over the toilet (and pee, because I need to pee what seems like hundreds of times in labor- is that only me?). Sitting brought on an intense contraction and I yelled for my husband to help me. I wanted to hang my arms around his neck- as I had done in my labor before. The contraction passed and I felt the baby move very slowly but very deliberately. I knew he was moving down (and I know now that he was rotating anterior, although I hadn't known that at the time). 

My eyes were closed and my mind was in my womb with him.  
Yes, baby, I said to him, yes, go down. Right there. 

I envisioned him moving his head into the birth canal and heading downwards as I felt his body moving in me. 
And suddenly, POP. 
My water burst, he rushed downwards, and my body surged into an intense contraction. 

Duke yelled that my water had broken. The midwives came running up the stairs. Everyone was scrambling, moving, getting the room ready. Apparently I wasn't the only one who was a bit caught off guard.

This is it, I thought, here he comes. 

There's this adrenaline rush that comes at the end, when you know it's time. Fear, excitement, and energy all pulsing through what just moments before had been a drained and depleted body. Suddenly that tiredness lifts, and a new wave of motivation sets in.

The next contraction was equally as intense and I felt my breath puttering as he was barreling down. Those silent contractions were now replaced with guttural roars. 

"It gets a little more intense once your water breaks, remember?" Jen reminded me. "Try to have a couple contractions on the toilet to help him come down." 

"I need to get up!" I said,  "I need to move! I don't want to have him here!"'

Jen assured me that I wouldn't, and we would move to the bed before he came. 

Suddenly I had a moment of panic. 
Is he not coming? I can't do this! I'm not ready! It's harder but he's not coming! 

But the next contraction and involuntary push told me that he was coming NOW, and I stood up and said I needed to get to the bed.

 I couldn't stand up straight or walk properly, so my husband and Jen helped me waddle over to the side of my bed. I knelt down like I had been doing the rest of labor.

 5:35 PM

I had been preparing for this moment since my last birth- I wanted to breathe him out, not push. I was so calculated and alert in these moments. I let my body push the baby through the contractions, then relaxed into it. I rested, waiting for the next surge. 

And then it came, and my body decided to take the reigns. The fetal ejection reflex (which I previously didn't know existed) took over, and in one very quick moment, I had birthed that baby - head then body- completely. 

He was down below me, between my legs, where my midwife caught him. I heard him cry a gurgly little cry, which put my mind at ease, and put my head down on the bed for a second to process and breathe. 

It's over, I thought. It was a relief.

Then I looked down to see my very pink little baby wrapped snugly in a brown towel. 

"What time is it?" I asked. 

"5:35, exactly." 

I was helped onto the bed, and my sweet little Asher was placed belly-to-belly on me. I delivered my placenta soon after, and I was able to bring him closer to latch and nurse.

And thus ended my third home birth. Asher was 7 lbs 10 oz and about 20 inches long. He scored 10/10 on his Apgar and was content and alert within minutes of birth. He has continued to be much like this, even as I write this two weeks after his birth. He is a very content little human, who enjoys sleeping, nursing, and cuddling.

The birth story ends here for me. I've had to separate the two- birth and postpartum. Birth was as planned. It was hard, it was intense, but it was good. 

Postpartum begins another story completely- one that didnt go as planned, and that I've been working through processing as the weeks have passed and the fog has lifted. But that story hasn't been written yet, so I will save it for another day. 

All photos by Monet Nicole Birthing Stories