the birth of my flower baby...

At around 8:30PM on Sunday, August 2nd, I began to feel some abdominal cramping. I was 41 weeks pregnant, a puffy beached whale of a woman, but still I chalked the cramping up to really bad gas pain. Tom was suspicious and began watching the clock. He eventually realized that the cramps were coming at regular intervals. (I then realized that the "really bad gas pains" I'd had while watching the new Harry Potter movie on July 18th were actually contractions!) At around 9:30PM contractions were roughly 8 minutes apart. Our doula, Rose, and midwife, Stephanie, were called and both told us to get some rest. Laying down made the contractions much more intense, and I was too excited anyway, so Tom and I putzed around the candlelit house listening to music and enjoying the adrenaline. Tom continued scribbling down the times of my contractions (we saved these pages of notepaper for Dolly's yet-to-be-started scrapbook) until he found an iPod application called Labor Mate to do it for him.

"Owie" was my word of the night. When I would feel a wave coming on, I would tell Tom: "I think it's an owie, Tom. I think it's an owie... YEP, it's an owie. OWIE. OWIEEEEE..." Afterwards I would giggle with excitement, but the giggling slowly lessened as the night progressed. Closer to dawn, there were no more giggles!

Rose arrived at around 6:30AM. Although I was very happy she was there, her arrival stalled my labor for about 20 minutes. Seeing as how someone as welcome and wanted as Rose could stall my labor, a hospital birth with nurses, a doctor, and whoever else they let wander into your room would have been horrific for me. When labor started back up, it quickly intensified. I remember starting to cry during a contraction. I think I tried to stifle it, but Rose made me feel it was okay and even helpful to let it out. The only position I liked during this entire time was to lean against a counter or a doorframe and stomp, stomp, STOMP my feet. I tried to get into the birth tub once, but I couldn’t stomp in there, so I got right back out :)

When the sun came up, I had that icky, sinking feeling you get (or I get, anyway) when you're leaving a loud club after drinking too much and you realize the dawn is breaking. I hate that feeling. I was exhausted and just wanted to curl up and sleep. I hope labor kicks off in the morning for the next kid!

Anyway, at around 8:30AM, I got into the birth tub for good. Stephanie and her assistant, Noelia, arrived at about 9:15AM. I was oblivious to what they were doing, but Tom tells me that as soon as Stephanie sat down on the couch to start knitting, she had to get right back up because I began to push. Transition and pushing were completely overwhelming and scary. I cried, moaned (with what was left of my ragged voice after moaning for most of the night), and ate spoonfuls of honey to soothe my throat. I very nearly bit Rose’s hand at one point but thankfully stopped myself in time and gnawed instead on Tom's hand. Rose was directly in front of me as I kneeled in the tub, and I just stared into her eyes and chanted her name over and over: "Rose, Rose, Rooooose..." I eventually switched my mantra to "open, open, open..." which is what Stephanie was instructing me to do. I'm pretty sure I looked and sounded insane, but they all tell me I was tame.

I pushed for about an hour. The crazy painful leg cramps I had in my hamstrings while actively pushing were the worst part. And I remember telling the baby to come out so we could just take a nap already! Stephanie told me to reach up inside and touch the baby’s head a few times. The amniotic sac had not broken yet, so her head felt soft and squishy. (The amniotic sac didn’t break until just before she was born, actually, and she came out holding the mucus plug!) I wasn’t too interested in touching her head, though, because I just wanted her out!  

When I could feel her head about to come out, I panicked and pushed with all my might. She shot out of me like a bullet at 10:54AM. Tom was supposed to catch her, but Stephanie ended up having to do it because it all happened so fast. She handed the baby to Tom, though, and he lifted her out of the water. Proof that I pushed like a champ? Her head was not molded at all! Because of this, I tore twice--one tear just inside my vagina and one small labial tear. Nothing serious. (Next time I'm letting the baby do more of the work, though!)

I’d like to say I had nobler feelings in those first few minutes after birth, but I kind of just felt senseless and spaced out and overwhelmed. It was surreal to see her as Tom handed her to me. She had rosy cheeks and a full head of black hair. And she was a big girl! 8lbs, 13oz and 21.75” long.

I had imagined the afterbirth would be quick and easy, but I was wrong. My placenta didn’t want to come out. Stephanie made me get out of the tub, holding the baby, and walk to the bedroom. I got halfway across the tiled living room floor before puddles of blood poured out of me. Stephanie made me lie down on the carpet before I reached my bed. She gently pulled on the cord to get it out, but that didn’t work. From what I understand, there was a sort of vacuum up there and the placenta was stuck just inside my cervix. Since the cord had stopped pulsing, I agreed to let Stephanie cut it so Tom could hold the baby for me. Still no placenta. Stephanie eventually stuck her finger just inside my cervix to break the seal and out the placenta came. All the blood that had been collecting behind it came out and Stephanie was scooping up clots of it with both hands. Tom was a nervous wreck, but he held up well! I was still just dazed and feeling like a drunken idiot. Stephanie had Pitocin on hand, but I’m glad she didn’t use it. All turned out fine in the end.

The hours and days afterward are a blur of my perfect, sweet-scented Dahlia, my amazing husband, Depends underpants (awesome for lochia), insatiable thirst, sore nipples, and turkey sandwiches...

…and so ends the story of Dahlia Bluebelle’s birth. They all lived happily ever after!