[Warning: some gory details included. Also, this is long. But I want to remember everything!]
Ellie was born on a Monday evening in early January. Like all the women I know who have gone past their due date, I was more than ready to get that show on the road. She didn't make us wait long, though, and came just two days after my due date.
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| 36 weeks |
The doctors had been telling me for weeks that she could come any day because I was already measuring 2-3 cm dilated at my appointments every week of the last month. I packed my hospital bag...we put the finishing touches on the nursery...and we waited. Luckily we had the holidays to distract us. Christmas came and went. New Year's came and went. The contractions slowly started in my last weeks, so gently at first that I wasn't even sure that's what they were. My labor really was like a crescendo, creeping up on me like a slow tide. As those early, weak contractions starting increasing in frequency, I wondered every day if that would be the day. The anticipation, the not knowing, was tough for both me and Matt. I felt like a watched pot, a ticking time bomb. Matt learned to recognize my "contraction face" which he said looked like a two-year old pooping: slightly concerned with a furrowed brow, but not in any real pain. I tried to look for patterns, even occasionally timing the contractions, but I also knew that when labor actually started, I would know it. And I did.
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| 38 weeks, making Christmas cookies. |
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| Family. |
The contractions really picked up in the two days before she was born. The night that labor truly began, I stayed up late watching the season premiere of Downton Abbey with Mom and Dad, who had come to meet their first granddaughter. I went to bed, then woke up at 1:00 am to contractions that were indeed much more intense than anything I'd felt before. I stayed in bed and breathed through each one. I slept in little fits and starts between contractions. Although they were much more intense, by 6am they were still 7 or 8 minutes apart. The doctor had told us to wait until they were 4 minutes apart before coming to the hospital. Eventually I got up to take a shower and wash my hair since I was pretty sure this was the real deal. As soon as I got up, the contractions started coming 3-4 minutes apart. By the time I finished getting dressed, Matt had his coat on, the bags in the car, and the car warmed up. Mom kissed us good-bye and we were off. It was about 7:00 am.
Looking back, our arrival at the hospital was pretty funny. We are not the type of people to make a big fuss--pretty low-key, even when we're about to give birth to our first child. We found out later that most people come in through the emergency room, but we just walked into the Women's Center through the visitors entrance. I wasn't sure where to check in, so I just went up to the nurses' station and said "I'm pretty sure I'm in labor." They were somewhat surprised and not particularly impressed. I think given my calm demeanor and sudden appearance, they didn't believe I could truly be in labor. But they were very nice and led us to a triage room. I was 5 cm dilated. The nurse said, "I'll get you a room!"
The long day in the hospital is a bit of a blur in my memory, even though it was only three months ago. The nurses were all great and my favorite midwife was on call, so I was surrounded by wonderful people. Matt was my rock. He never asked me what I needed, just held my hands through every contraction and kept me smiling. My feet were cold so I wore a pair of black and white striped fuzzy socks the whole day, like some crazy wicked witch of the west.
I had read a lot about all my pain management choices and we had taken the classes. I liked the idea of a natural childbirth, but I didn't rule anything out absolutely. I'd never been in labor before and I'd never really experienced a lot of pain before, so I just told myself I'd take it as it came and make whatever decisions felt right at the time. We worked through the contractions for most of the day. We walked. I bounced on the birthing ball. The birthing ball was great. By mid-afternoon, I was 8 cm dilated and the midwife broke my water. Back on the birthing ball. The contractions hurt. A LOT. I'd read about "labor rituals"--the spontaneous strategies that each woman develops to work through her contractions. For me, it was holding Matt's hands and imagining myself climbing a mountain during each contraction. At the peak of the contraction, I was STOMPING my hiking boots around the top of that mountain.
I climbed my mountains, bounced on that ball, and did my best. The next time the midwife checked my progress, I was still at 8 cm. I think if she'd told me I was 9 cm, I might have been able to make it. But I was so tired and the lack of progress was discouraging. Suddenly I knew I didn't want to feel that pain anymore. I wanted the epidural. So the midwife ordered it and gave me some narcotic pain medicine to hold me over until it came. Relief! The IV meds didn't block the pain, but I didn't care about it nearly as much. They did make me a little loopy. In my imagination, instead of climbing mountains, I was now building them out of green Legos. I knew I wasn't actually using Legos--that it was all in my imagination--but Matt told me later that I actually did start making motions with my hands. But I felt so much better.
The anesthesiologist came pretty quickly, a big, boisterous man that seemed to fill the room with his big, friendly voice. The procedure was easy and I was soon lying back in bed, tucked under the covers, pain gone. The only side effect of the epidural that I noticed was that I started shivering. I wasn't cold, but I shook almost constantly. Still, it seemed a small price to pay for the respite from the contractions. I was soon 10 cm dilated. The midwife recommended I "labor down" for a little while to rest up for the pushing stage. I relaxed for about half an hour.
When it came time to push, I was ready and eager. Suddenly, rather than being at the mercy of endless contractions, I had something I could do, something to work on! I put my back into it. The nurse watched the contraction monitor and told me when to push. Matt did all the counting, over and over, counting to 10 twice during each contraction. When Ellie's head started emerging, there was much discussion of her inch-long blonde hair sticking up like a mohawk. They asked me if I wanted a mirror and I said "no, don't even give me my glasses. You're all a blur and that is just fine with me!" I was on a mission. Push, push, PUSH!
And suddenly she was there, crying and goopy and utterly beautiful. Matt said that what came out next (the afterbirth) is something he wishes he could "un-see" but we mostly only had eyes for our little girl. They put her in my arms. She kept on screaming, and we laughed and cried. Matt followed Ellie over to the bassinet for her weigh-in and checkup. I had some pretty significant tearing, and it took the midwife about 30 minutes to get me all sewn up. I did ask for my glasses at that point so I could watch Matt and Ellie on the other side of the room.
She was born at 7:52 pm. It was the longest, most exhausting, most wonderful day of my life, and it was only the beginning. Some people say you fall in love with your baby the moment you see her, some say you have to get to know her first. For me, I think I was too scared when she first arrived to do much but worry. I had a bit of "performance anxiety" in a way. I needed to succeed at mothering. Breastfeeding, soothing her cries, keeping her warm and content--these all seemed so much more challenging than I had anticipated. In retrospect, the labor was the easy part. If I could do anything over again, I would have just been kinder to myself, and more patient. I would tell myself: This isn't easy, but you can trust your body and your heart to do all the right things in time. Be present in every moment because it all passes by so quickly.
