On Wednesday, the eve of Christmas Eve, the Braxton-Hicks contractions I'd been feeling for the past few weeks started to pick up. Previously, they had been coming on in the evenings and all through the night, but on Wednesday they were present all day. I had a prenatal appointment with Janelle that morning, and I asked her to check my progress. I was almost completely effaced, but she couldn't tell whether I was dilated due to the position of my cervix. Sensing my anticipation, she assured me that the vast majority of births she attends happen between 40.5 and 41.5 weeks. After the appointment, I headed home to practice a little more patience.
That evening, we took a drive to see Christmas lights, and halfway through the excursion I had to ask Ben to go back home because my contractions were very uncomfortable in the car. Once home, they slowed and eased up a little, but still seemed stronger than they were during the day. By 10 p.m., I decided to call Janelle to let her know the contractions had continued through the day, and were starting to make a little progress. She told me to take a bath, have some wine and get some sleep, and I happily obliged.
I fell asleep around midnight, but was awoken by the contractions again at 2 a.m. At this point I woke Ben to tell him labor had started, but to go back to sleep until I needed him. I also paged Maria. Then I went downstairs, lit a fire, turned on my birth mix and tried to relax back into sleep. Meagan came out at 4 a.m. as I laid next to the fire feeling the surges come and go, and I let her know labor had begun. By 5 a.m. I was able to find a comfortable position on the floor (the pressure on my hips did wonders for the discomfort!) and sleep until 7 a.m. The broken up 4 hours was as much sleep as I'd get until Emma arrived.
At 9 a.m., Janelle and Maria came over to check my progress. From midnight until they arrived, my contractions were steadily 2-3 minutes apart, and though not extremely uncomfortable, I was hopeful that they were helping move things along. It was somewhat disheartening, then, to learn I was only dilated 1 cm. One. Janelle gave me some herbs to support more rest, and also told me to get out and take a walk after I rested, and she'd check in again later on.
I showered and then rested in bed for a couple of hours before heading out for a walk with Ben. The contractions were strong enough now that I had to stop each time they came to lean on Ben or get down on my hands and knees. (My neighbors were probably worried!) When we returned home around 1:30 p.m., I needed more support physically, with hands on my hips or back to create counter pressure during contractions. The contractions remained this way through the entire labor, and I had one, two and often three sets of hands on me throughout the rest of the labor, every 2-3 minutes--quite the work for my birth team!
Isaac took my hands-and-knees position as a game, and constantly tried to crawl over or under me while I was contracting. It became very apparent to me at this point--knowing how long this labor could be if I had only dilated 1 cm to this point--that I needed some space from Isaac for a while. Meagan got in touch with Janelle and Maria, who said they'd return, then packed Isaac's bag, and a bag of Christmas gifts, just in case, and he was off to spend some time with Brandy, Jeff and their three boys (on Christmas Eve). We had no idea how long he'd be gone, but I assured a hesitant Ben that we'd get Isaac back home as the pushing stage approached. I had worried, before labor began, that it would be difficult for me to send Isaac away, if it came to that, but the intensity of the contractions and the necessity to focus all of my energy on riding them made it relatively easy to make that decision in the moment.
After Janelle and Maria arrived again, the birth tub was filled at my request. I craved the water and wanted a little rest this early on, if possible. It eased the discomfort of the surges some, and between them I was able to lean back and rest comfortably, listening to the soft music I had chosen. My birth team continued the counter pressure through contractions, and Ben prepared to join me in the tub. After another hour, around 4 p.m., I got out of the tub for an exam, and was once again disheartened to find I was only 2 cm dilated. Seven hours of labor to dilate 1 more centimeter. During the exam, Janelle felt some scar tissue, which she thought could be preventing me from dilating, and suggested massage to break it up. This process was
extremely painful, and I asked Janelle to stop multiple times before she was able to break up the tissue.
From here, the contractions were significantly stronger, gaining strength over the rest of my labor. I moved into various positions--walking stairs, side-lying, and laboring on the toilet or in the birth tub, using low moaning throughout to ride the surges. Standing, side-lying, and laboring on the toilet were so intense that I could only stand to stay in the position for short intervals of time. Laboring on the toilet was probably the most intensely painful position for me, and many, many times I asked to be transferred to the hospital while laboring this way. My team gave words of support in these moments, trying to respect my wishes to birth at home.
I was never aware of the time as it passed, but grew increasingly exhausted as it went on. Around the 24th hour of labor, I began to mentally break down, admitting I was exhausted and uncertain how I'd be able to continue. My birth team began pushing food on me, and in between contractions I'd eat small bites of bananas, yogurt, and energy chews. Cue vomiting.
Just after midnight, I noticed fluid trickling down my legs after one particularly uncomfortable session of side-lying laboring. My water had broken, and I was hopeful that it meant progress. A few hours later, I was checked for dilation and was sitting at 5 cm, but easily stretched to 8cm. Janelle wanted me back on my feet or on the toilet to move things along. I labored through the night, into Christmas morning this way, changing positions hourly, my birth team by my side constantly. By dawn, I had reached a new level of exhaustion, and my birth team also appeared exhausted to me, which only added to my distress. It was Christmas morning, I was in the middle of labor with no end in sight, missing Christmas with my son, and aware that everyone there with me would also be missing Christmas with their families. Janelle urged me to use my exhaustion as a tool, but in the moment I had no idea how to do that. It felt imperative to me to dig deeper and find stores of energy to get through labor and the pushing stage.
Around 7 a.m., roughly 33 hours after labor began, I asked Janelle again about the hospital, this time with a little more clarity that transferring might actually be what I want, instead of just feeling like it was a way to escape the labor. Recognizing that I was serious about transferring, she offered to check my progress. I was sitting at 6-7 cm. She also noted that my bag of water hadn't completely ruptured (I had a "high leak") and offered to break my water for me before I decided whether or not to transfer. With complete certainty, I said no. I wanted to transfer, I wanted an epidural and I.V. fluid to rest and regain strength. And so, my birth team jumped into action to transition to the hospital.
By 8 a.m. we arrived at Boulder Community Hospital, where Isaac was born. When we entered labor and delivery, my contractions were on top of one another, and there was a flurry of activity in my delivery room--doctors, nurses, my birth team, and the anesthesia doctor all filled the small space. We happened to be the only family delivering (and the first Christmas baby!) at the hospital, so we had a lot of attention. Too much. It took three attempts to get an IV started (in between contractions), as I was somewhat dehydrated, despite constantly drinking fluids through my labor. The first couple of hours at the hospital were difficult ones. Transitioning from such a safe, sacred space of peace and quiet at home with an incredibly supportive, nurturing birth team to the busy hospital room with a very rude and belittling on-call doctor (who didn't much care for my midwife--or anyone, for that matter) was tough. Thank goodness for the amazing nurses and the sweet anesthesia doc who worked with us. They tried very hard to make my transition to the hospital smooth, and respected my wishes for our birth, often letting me know what my rights were and urging me to ask more questions and push to advocate for myself and my baby. Yes, thank heavens for them.
Before having the epidural placed, I was checked by the doctor. I had progressed to 7-8 cm, thankfully. By 10 a.m. the epidural was in place and I was able to rest for a little while before the doctor broke my water. I was so thankful for the relief and rest the epidural brought, and my spirit lifted tremendously once the pain of the contractions eased. For the first time in hours, I felt happy and hopeful. I couldn't wait to meet
our baby--I had lost sight of her birth for a while.
When the doctor broke my water, there was meconium in the fluid, but throughout the course of my labor, baby's heart rate stayed strong and steady, so no one was worried about the meconium. I was told to rest and I'd be checked in a couple of hours for progress. During that time, Janelle, Meagan, and Maria asked how Ben and I would best feel supported for the remainder of my labor. We all recognized that the room was too crowded with everyone at my bedside. We decided that Janelle would stay to support me, Meagan would be at my side as space allowed, and Maria would go home to celebrate Christmas with her family (she has three young children of her own). I know now that it was difficult for Maria to leave me before the birth, but I'm so happy she did, so that she could spend part of the holiday with her family. Over the previous two days, there was never a second when I didn't feel completely supported by Ben, Janelle, Meagan and Maria, even after Maria left.
While I rested, my contractions slowed to over 7 minutes apart I was told, and my cervix started to swell, so the doctor suggested we start pitocin. This was one of the medical interventions that the nurses and anesthesia doc talked to me about extensively, and I had a much better idea of how I could use it to help move labor along this late in the game to avoid another cesarean, so I agreed to start with the lowest dose. My contractions picked up, and they began to feel uncomfortable again, especially in my right hip, in spite of the epidural. Janelle supported me through them, again, with counter-pressure.
At the next vaginal exam around 3:30 p.m., I was fully dilated and the baby was at the +2 station, which meant I could begin pushing! The news buoyed all of our spirits, and Janelle said that it was so good to see me smiling again. We all laughed and joked in between contractions as I began pushing; the mood was light, but remained focused on Emma's birth.
Pushing went very well (which was such a relief for this VBAC mama!) and in less than an hour the doctor and nurses were all called back into the delivery room to prepare for baby's arrival. I was able to watch our baby girl be born thanks to the nurses bringing in a large mirror. It was miraculous.
At 4:58 p.m., Emma Noelle was born into this world, quiet as a mouse, with a head full of beautiful dark hair, and the chubbiest cheeks you ever did see. She cried once to let the nurses know she was okay, and then squeaked and sighed on my chest. Her daddy and Aunt Meagan were at my side, and watched her be born. We all fell completely in love with our little Christmas beauty the moment we laid eyes on her. After about 42 hours, she was here. Finally, finally she was here.
And shortly after she arrived, a very proud big brother came to meet his new little sister. Hours, days, months of waiting, and suddenly we became a brand new family of four:
We are so happy you're here, Emma Noelle.
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