Orion is four months old today and so, it seems appropriate to share the start of his life with us here on Earth today. This is going to be loooong, since it was an 80+ hour labor, so I added a lot of eye candy. ;) All of the amazing photos in this post were taken by the immensely talented visual storyteller, Jen Conway Photography unless otherwise noted.
Photo by Joe
The story of my mighty one's birth begins several days before I held him in my arms. This little soul I was told I may never be able to have. I could jump ahead to the end, I could just tell you about the final 24 hours, but that wouldn't be doing justice to the labor that bore my mythologically monikered son Earthside.
No. The story of Orion's birth begins a week before I heard his cry, felt his skin on mine or knew if baby was Orion or Lily. It begins when we were taking photos for the virtual mad tea party that we participate in each Summer.
I felt like my hips were going to pop out of their sockets. There is no other way for me to describe it. I now know how dolls with their legs all akimbo, barely connected to their plastic pelvises must feel. Certain that I was going to fall over any moment, but too stubborn not to participate in one of my favorite photo sessions of the year, I went about setting up the table and all of its decor in the dining room. I set up the tripod and the camera, Joe and I got in to costume and we began shooting. I needed to take frequent breaks, I was crying at several points at the fire in my hip joints. I told Joe to Hell with the due date being 2 weeks away, as I had said earlier in the week, baby was coming very soon. Possibly "over the weekend" soon. Baby was engaging in my pelvis, though I've never been pregnant or birthed a child before, there was no doubt in my mind as to why I felt the way I did.
Being heavy, achy and swollen during the hottest part of the Summer here in the land of Eternal Summer, I was definitely ready to meet my baby. However, Joe's best friend was making the long trip from New Jersey to see us Saturday, so I kindly asked baby to wait until Sunday to be born. I messaged my Doula, the amazing Julie Byers, to tell her my suspicions and that I had just struck a bargain with my baby. She laughed, said it did sound like baby would be joining us soon and that she was ordering me to take it easy over the weekend. None of this cooking all day, weeding the gardens, or scrubbing the house nonsense I'd been up to all week long. I gave her my word that I was planning a lazy weekend and said I'd keep her appraised of any changes.
At this point, my hospital bags were not packed. Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a procrastinator?
Friday night I rested, having finished up stocking meals in the freezer. We watched The Lego Movie (Everything is AWESOME!) and Joe decorated my enormous belly with Henna.
Photo by me
Saturday went off without a hitch. Joe and I woke up and worked on the "Before Baby To-Do List" I had jotted down, filled with little things we needed or wanted to get done before baby came to make our lives easier. Things like freezer meals. getting a spare key for my best friend so he could come stay with Luna while we were in the hospital and getting those pesky bags packed. Bob and his wife Nicole arrived around 10 and we lounged around the living room catching up. They asked me about my pregnancy, I laughed that I now had my own gravitational pull. We watched crap TV, went out for burgers, and spent a lot of time sitting.
Occasionally my hips would start to hurt and I'd have to stand and sway my hips. Or go to my bedroom, drop to all fours and do some pelvic rocks to release the pressure in my hips and lower back.
In hindsight, this was definitely an indicator that labor has started, but my inexperienced brain wasn't picking up on the signals my body had begun to send. Except for one brief moment, while Nicole and I were at the mall so she could pick up a bathing suit for the next stop on their trip, and I had this brief thought of "I feel like I'm on labor." Having not felt any contractions, tightening of my belly or anything even remotely like cramps though, I shrugged it off as baby still descending and engaging.
After they left to continue on to Dallas that night, I slept soundly. The first night in weeks that I didn't wake up at least a dozen times to go to the bathroom, roll myself from one side to the other or adjust the pillow between my legs. I dreamt, for the second time, of a curly haired little boy smiling at me in a hazy, sunny field. The first dream came to me about 5 months in to my pregnancy; those were the only times I dreamed about my child. I was sure I'd be meeting Orion soon.
Sunday found me feeling achy still, but in the mood to move. We had a few things left to get for baby, I needed to make some exchanges at Babies R Us, so we headed there after breakfast. We walked, well, he walked and I waddled, through the baby section picking up a few miscellaneous items that were left on our registry and I decided to pick up a belly cast kit. Joe laughed and said. "We'd better do that soon. Like, tonight!" After we finished there, we went over to Costco to grab snacks and drinks to have on hard for when the big day arrived. I was craving fruit, so we picked up a big watermelon, a pineapple and a bunch of strawberries along with juices, trail mix and granola bars. Quick, easy, healthy things that I could munch on while I did the hard work of bringing baby in to the world.
It was, unfortunately, a trip where I could not make up my mind about what I wanted, and so we must have looped the store a half a dozen times. When we got home, it was beautiful outside, so I worked in the garden after lunch. Pruning hedges. With the electric hedge trimmer.
Sorry, Julie. I didn't keep my taking it easy promise after all. I felt so hopped up and full of energy, I chalked it up to a good night's sleep and my hips no longer being on fire.
That night, as Joe suggested, we did my belly casting. The thought of standing in one place forever sounded awful to me, so I opted to lay on the floor with a bunch of pillows under me while Joe worked. We were watching The Office while he laid the warm strips of plaster over my belly when out of nowhere there was a sharp shooting pain in my back. I was fidgeting trying to get comfortable without messing up the casting while he apologized and said his back hurt too and he was working as fast as he could. A few minutes later it happened again. This time, I shoved my hands under my tailbone to prop it up a little and that soothed it until the next one hit a few minutes later.
As soon as that thing was dry, it was off of me, I was off the floor and I was in the shower wincing.
Photo by me
Joe scolded me for over exerting myself. I imagine, had I spoken to Julie that night, she would have done the same.
That night was a restless one. I was up every 30 - 45 minutes to move myself because my back and hips hurt. Around 4 am, I moved to the couch and managed to get some shut eye with Chico purring away on my chest.
When morning came, I got in touch with Julie about the back pains. I described them in detail and she said it could be early labor, but it sounded like baby may be laying on a nerve or otherwise positioned oddly. I double and triple checked that he was still in the occiput anterior position using belly mapping techniques and he was. She offered to call a Webster Certified Chiropractor to see if he could get me in and try to get me some relief and I agreed. In the meantime she repeated that I was to take it easy. This time, I listened, though it was difficult because laying down was tremendously uncomfortable, as was sitting on anything soft. The chiro offered to see me Tuesday, which I agreed to, and I spent the majority of my day sitting cross legged on the floor, at the kitchen table or pacing around outside with Luna, who was still in recovery from her knee surgery and needed to be kept to her exercise regimen. Again, I thought to myself "Am I in labor?" but again decided that I couldn't be, because all the sensation was in my back and I wasn't spotting or having any other labor signs.
I managed a cat nap on the living room floor after listening to my Hypnobabies script for the day. Not my usual napping spot of choice, but beggars can't be choosers.
That evening, Joe took my 9 month belly shot as well as maternity photos of my beautifully henna'd belly. It wasn't ideal, as not only was I being eaten by mosquitoes but now the back pains were persisting while I was sitting too. I had to keep popping up and walking it off or dropping to all fours to stretch it out every few photos. We went out to eat at the local Mexican restaurant where I needed to get up and move twice during our meal. We kept joked, as I sipped a virgin strawberry daquiri, that this was going to be the last date we were going on for a while. Julie had me do "The Mile's Circuit" in hopes of making baby move in to a more comfortable position in my pelvis. It brought me an hour or so of relief but alas, didn't fix my back problems. I was still insistent that it was not my birthing time and that it just felt like a really bad pulled muscle or a pinched nerve. Or, at times, both.
That night, I don't remember sleeping at all. Having pow wowed with Julie once again, I tried a hot bath, Tiger Balm, a big glass of wine and finally, as a last ditch effort, some Tylenol PM that Joe ran to the store and grabbed after Midnight. I paced the house, changing positions as often as the back pain dictated. I tried timing them just to see if they were at a set interval and possibly could be pressure waves in my back, but they were sporadic, sometimes coming 5, 15 or 30 minutes apart. The chiropractic appointment the next day couldn't come soon enough.
I can sum up Tuesday simply, more back pain. I tried to use my Hypnosis techniques on it and while I was usually successful, every so often one would shoot up the length of my spine, in to my shoulders and throw me right back in to full consciousness. I was only comfortable and able to stave them off by kneeling in front of the couch and leaning on to it. The chiropractor visit gave me, again, a few hours of relief but wasn't able to keep the sensations at bay for long.
I did, however, pack my hospital bag.
Our friend Anthony was in town from Arizona and came by for dinner. It was during this that the pain began to become a bit unbearable. And I was so, so tired. Since we don't see him often and I figured what I needed was rest, I excused myself to the bed room to try to rest. I was on the bed flip flopping from side to side trying to find relief that lasted more than 5 minutes. I dozed in a hazy half awake fog at times in between them. Joe came to check on me and tell me he was driving Anthony back to his hotel and I nodded, half asleep.
While he was away, one of the pain waves spasmed, rattled my body so horribly that I jumped, literally, out of the bed with a squeal of pain. At that point I was on all fours on the ground trying to stretch it out using pelvic rocks and cat/cow yoga poses. It wasn't going away. I couldn't get myself to my safe place and shut down. It was followed by another and another, 3 in a 5 minute period. I began to panic, to feel a wave of "Oh my Gods, if I can't get through this with hypnosis, how am I going to have a baby?" I was exhausted, my last decent sleep having been Saturday. I kneeled against my bed and cried and begged the Universe to make it stop. Or to make it have a purpose. Because if it was going to give me my baby, I could make it through. But this pointless back pain was horrendous and unlike any thing I've ever experienced in this lifetime. I got up and paced the house. I remember there being tree frogs on the glass door, which struck me as important to note.
When Joe came home I was sobbing. I told him I wanted to go to the hospital, but that I didn't think they'd be able to help. I waffled, he told me we could do whatever I felt I needed to do, he just wanted me to be alright. And off we went, at a little past Midnight to the emergency room. I told him my fears in the car, that all of my planning and preparation had been for nothing, that if I couldn't handle this back pain I'd be insane to think I could handle birthing naturally. He squeezed my hand and reminded me that I had been preparing for something completely different than what I was experiencing. That at the end of that experience I'd be holding my son or daughter and that would help keep me calm and get me through. I calmed down and texted Julie, not wanting to wake her.
In the ER I had at least 4 people ask me if I was sure I wasn't in labor. When I described what I was feeling, they agreed with me that I probably was not and had just managed to hurt myself because of the relaxin hormone flooding my body. They gave me some Tylenol and wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery because, as the doctor who was delightfully sarcastic and matter of fact (no seriously, his manner cheered me up) stated, "You're extremely pregnant. And *sucks in breath through teeth* we don't mess with the extremely pregnant." In L&D I once again described my symptoms and sensations and was once again told that I most likely was not in labor, but that they wanted to hook me to the monitors to check on baby and would also like to check my cervix to see if I was dilated at all. I got changed, tried to stay still in the bed with the back spasms making me want to jump up and run out of the door and let her hook me up. When she checked me she looked shocked.
I was 1-2 cm dilated, my cervix was thinning out nicely and I was very definitely in my birthing time.
After the initial shock and feeling of stupidity subsided (how did I not know I was having pressure waves?!? It was so obvious in hindsight.), I was calm. It was like a switch flicked in my brain and in my body. All of a sudden, hearing those words and exchanging a wide eyed look with Joe, shut it all down. The panic, the fear, a large modicum of the pain. It was as if someone had come in and dumped a big bucket of Zen over my head and I had sucked it all in like a sponge. I didn't even care when the nurse told me it was pretty uncommon to have it all in my back and that I was one of those unlucky few. I rested my head back on the pillow while she left to call Doctor Stafford, my ob/gyn and family doctor, and gave Joe's hand a big squeeze. I didn't even care when my phone went off and Joe told me that Julie was going to scold me in the morning for not calling her, because trips to the ER are very definitely worth calling your doula for and that I needed to stop being so considerate because she works for me, darnit. I laughed and told Joe to tell her I'm sorry, I'd let her know when we were going home and that I'd call her before my doctors appointment in the morning before dozing off in the bed.
At 3am I was released and sent home with instructions to keep my planned doctors appointment at 9 am and a pain pill that did absolutely nothing. Once more, I didn't sleep. I paced the house, changing positions as often as needed and felt like surely I had to be a lot further along than 1-2 cm, because this constant changing of positions was what happens during transition. Or so I'd been told.
At 8 am Wednesday morning, I ate a big bowl of yogurt with granola and strawberries while Joe put the hospital bags in the car, just in case. For some reason, I vividly remember all of the food I ate in the final 32 hours of my birthing time, haha. After I finished, we were off to see Doctor Stafford and I called Julie, who gave me the weakest scolding I've ever heard. We talked about how I was feeling (better now that I knew the pains were pressure waves and could ride them out), that she was at my beck and call from that point on and to tell Doctor Stafford that Julie said he needed to make sure I slept. I laughed and said I'd give him her demands and call her later. At this point, I was what Julie referred to in our Hypnobabies class as "slumber party giddy", meaning I was still in the early stages of labor.
Doctor Stafford greeted me with a grin and commented that we'd be meeting baby soon. I laughed and said hopefully sooner than later and related my tale of sleepless back pain and Julie's demands back to him. Unfortunately, being in active labor, he didn't feel comfortable giving me anything that might knock me out or slow things down, we were all really hoping for a Wednesday baby! When he checked me I was 3+, so I'd made progress despite my lack of sleep. We talked some more, with him saying to keep him posted and up to date either by calling the office or his cell and parted with hopes to see each other later that day to bring baby Earthside.
Under strict orders to attempt to sleep, I curled up in bed with Joe once we got home but, as I mentioned earlier, I was giddy. Like a little girl wanting to call everyone and tell them the news giddy. But, I didn't, because we had decided to keep the news between us and our birth team until after baby was in our arms to keep our phones from constantly buzzing, beeping or ringing. So while Joe snoozed, I made myself as comfortable as I could in the living room and thought about my last day without a baby. In doing so, I realized I didn't have much to mourn now that this transition was about to happen, I realized that while I was going to have to make some concessions and wasn't going to have as much time for things as I did when it was just Joe and I, the important stuff - me, myself and I - would still be there. Transformed and stumbling in this new role and form, but still me. My biggest fear had been conquered and I was ready to put on the mantle of Motherhood.
When that realization sunk in is when I realized the waves were coming fairly close together and had begun to get longer, so I began to time them. They were coming 3-4 minutes apart and lasting nearly a minute. I was still breathing through them and somewhat giddy but decided that now was the time to call Julie since it would take her about an hour to get to me. After calling her another big wave sideswiped me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I dropped to my knees and shut myself down, breathing through and riding it out. I woke Joe and had him draw me a warm bath to settle in to, the waves were growing stronger and I longed to be in my soothing element, in water.
As I sat in the tub, with the warm water soothing and relaxing me, I was better able to let go and lean in to the waves as they crashed over me. Joe took me to my safe place, the beaches of Asbury Park, and I visualized the faded buildings, heard the crash of the waves, the cries of the gulls, smelled the salty air and felt the sand between my toes. I was trancing through the biggest waves, surrendering to my body, letting it lead the way, trusting it to guide me through this transformation. In between smaller waves my beloved rubbed my shoulders, offered me sips of ice water, whispered encouragements and we laughed and held hands. I was no longer giddy, but neither was I turned completely inward. I was comfortable enough, aside from the occasional back spasm. We were listening to the "Modern Folk" station on Pandora.
Julie arrived and relieved Joe of his post in the bathroom, sending him to eat and sitting quietly with me while I rode the waves. We talked quietly in between and just her presence calmed me in the most tremendous way. The fact that she came in the house quietly and unhurried, that she sat in the dark bathroom listening to music with me while I sat in the tub and that we had a good laugh over the speed at which one hits the mute button when their 4 year old's favorite song says the word "fuck" let me know that everything was as it should be. That even though I had been in labor and without sleep for days, that everything was alright. We switched the station to "Bob Marley" radio. The waves were coming closer and lasting longer. When Joe had finished eating and returned, I asked for help getting out of the bathtub, I wanted to move. To feel solid ground under my feet, sun on my face and smell fresh cut grass.
So we wandered the backyard, Julie taking Luna and Joe and I strolling and holding hands. When a wave came over me, I leaned in to him, my rock and shut off sensation, leaving my body until it had passed. When we went back inside, I was greeted by Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds", my mantra, my musical talisman. The song that lifted me up out of the darkness in the Jamaican heat, healing me and followed me back to the states where it would move me to happy tears, would remind me to let go and be brave, to have faith, it came on accompanied to slow dances in the living room with my bulging belly pressed in to Joe's and was once more present at this monumental time in my life. It meant so much to me, this song, and still does.
Every little thing was gonna be alright.
We sat in the kitchen for a bit, me eating watermelon, and the conversation like that of old friends catching up on an unremarkable day. I remember thinking how beautiful it was, this connection with these two strong and lovely people and how astounding it was to have such unremarkable conversation during such a remarkable day. It was humbling, it was grounding. It was exactly what I needed to remain calm and not let the fears that had swelled in my heart for so much of my life - that it would be pain beyond all imagining and I couldn't do it, that I'd feel as if I was being torn asunder, that I should give up on my goals and just do it the way everyone else had done it because that seemed so very, very easy - from even peeking in to the windows of my mind palace. Never in my life have I been so fully present in my mind, my body or the moment.
The afternoon went on much the same, with Julie trying several different techniques to try to move the pressure out of my battle weary back and enable me to sit or lie down comfortably. We tried hip dip figure 8's (swanky hips) and those worked for quite a while. AS the waves grew longer, I wanted to get back in to the tub and so I did, with delicious lavender in the water and a patchouli candle burning and though the waves were getting so long (90 seconds) I felt so happy and relieved. It was much easier with the sensations in my uterus rather than my tailbone and I was able to truly relax for the first time in days, there in the water.
Alas, it wasn't meant to last and the back pressure returned. I ate some more fruit (pineapple this time) and Julie explained that we were going to try some pelvic floor releases to move the pressure once more. I was game, as I desperately wanted to sleep, so we did that. And that felt like the longest unpleasant experience of my life. The waves felt unbearable during them and I wanted so desperately to get out of position and run away - where? I didn't know - but Joe and Julie rubbed my back and my hair and softly spoke loving encouragement that helped me through even as I had lost my trance and hypnosis.
As we were finishing up, Luna went nuts and I knew Julie's friend and second doula who I had not met before, the talented Jen Conway, had arrived. Julie had asked me a few weeks in advance if I minded if Jen came to my birth. Normally I'd have said no, a stranger entering my home during my most vulnerable moments sounds positively stomach turning. But when she asked, there was no off-putting feeling and without hesitation, I said Yes. And I'm so glad that I did, because not only do I now have breathtaking photos of this magical time, but we clicked instantly and I've gained a friend for the risk.
Had it not been for Luna's antics, I'd have never known she had entered the room, her presence was so gentle and non-intrusive. I was in thrall of the biggest, longest, meanest wave yet as she came in, camera in hand and began her magical work of documenting the sacred, powerful moments of a woman's birthing time. When it had passed, I was once again in desperate desire of movement and nature, so back outside we went. At this point, I was not only no longer giddy, I was no longer talkative. I was turning inwards, walking myself through the waves as if through thigh deep ocean waters. Hypnosis and concentration became intertwined and as the hardest ones hit me, I let the wisdom of my body and my husband's unwavering support of that body, hold me up and see me through. At one point I asked Julie "Am I in early labor?" and I think she just smiled, but I'm not entirely sure, as anything outside of my body or mind is so very hazy.
I remember Joe joking that it was bowling night at work, so he'd be seeing us later and deciding that it felt like time to go to the hospital. I was shaky and no longer talking to anyone, the waves were so close together that I didn't bother getting off of my knees in between. Julie retrieved my precious mother beads that friends, sisters and fairy godmothers from around the world sent to me and that I had strung together under the light of the Full Moon just a month before and placed it around my neck. The weight commanded my focus, keeping me from sinking under the waves. We got in the car and drove over to Greer Memorial, Joe and I in the lead (my ass on the dashboard, knees on the seat and arms hugging the headrest). When we arrived, I was taken to triage where we had a nurse that made this birthing woman's blood pressure rise and my hands clench in to strangling motions. Again, doulas are amazing at keeping one calm - in just about any scenario.
And good thing too, because despite my waves coming fast and strong for hours, I had only dilated to a 4. I was deflated, the wind knocked out of my sails. I lost my hypnosis and felt crushing disappointment as a wave hit me. When Doctor Stafford walked in just a moment later, we talked and I said I wanted to go back home. My goal was to spend as much of my birthing time in the comfort of my own home as I could and I was still a maddeningly long way from meeting my baby. The waves began to space out, from the rush of sadness or sheer exhaustion, I'm not sure. Jen went home with promises to be back as soon as we needed her and it was determined that I needed to sleep and I was sent home with instructions to go home, eat a filling but not too heavy dinner, get in my pajamas, have a glass of wine, put on the Hypnobabies Deepening script, take the prescribed Ambien and go to sleep. I was also told not to take the ambien if I didn't think I was going to fall asleep because it would keep me up.
I followed the instructions to the letter. Joe and I were curled up in bed, the waves had spaced out a good deal so I was able to get comfortable. I was deep in my special place, letting the script relax me to the point of weightlessness... and a wave jolted me out of my skin. I was awake, the 30 minute magic bubble of Ambien induced sleep had closed and the strangest night of my life started.
You see, no one told me that Ambien can make you trip balls and hallucinate! I don't recall much of the night, though Joe tells me I pestered him a good deal and made him move to the couch because "I promise, I really, really promise, I can sleep there." (I didn't). I do remember "waking up", having no idea where I was, being on all fours, all wet and completely panicking. I yelled ad woke my sleeping husband, who came to my rescue. I had crawled in to the middle of my bed and was crying that I had peed all over myself. Apparently, when you're tripping, your water breaking doesn't dawn on you. It did dawn on Joe though, who informed Julie who had crashed at a friends house nearby. After I was cleaned up, I'm not sure what happened - another gaping black spot - but I do remember calling Julie at 5:30 in the morning because I thought my pelvis was on actual fire, that my back hurt so badly, that the only place I wanted to be was the toilet and, most jarringly, that I didn't think I could do it. She promised me that I could and would be to me in 15 minutes.
I crawled, crying and afraid, in to bed next to Joe and woke him up. I was scared and achy and so very, very tired. He drew me up a warm bath and held me as I sobbed that I didn't think I could do it. He told me that I was so very, very strong and that I was doing it. That I could do it. That I was amazing. And that no matter what happened, if I deviated from the birth that I wanted with all of my heart that he would support me and continue to stand by my side, holding my hand and loving me. Because he wanted only what was best for me and our baby.
And that gave me the strength that I needed to continue, 4 days after my birthing time had started. The love of my life, father of my child and soul mate reminding me that I was, indeed, doing the thing I didn't think I could do... that very moment as he held me in the dim bathroom with the water running. I was back in my body, back in control of my emotions and my mind. Back to trusting myself, my body dancing the same rhythm of life that women's bodies have danced since time immemorial. My fiery hips and aching back still had work to do, the final hard work of birth, but I was ready.
When Julie arrived I was calm, but I was searching for something. She helped Joe move me as I dictated, from one bathroom to my bedside to the couch to the other bathroom and back to where we started. And I found what I was looking for, straddling the toilet backwards, I tattooed a beat against the wall with my hands. Drumming. Letting my hands beat the song of creation, the music of mother earth's heartbeat thrumming in my ears, in time with the drumming of my hands on the wall. Sending me down in to a deep trance, quieting my mind, driving away my fears. There was a warm rice sock on my back, constantly held in the loving hands of my husband and my doula. I began to vocalize with the release of the waves, the sound coming from deep in my belly. It was time to go back to the hospital, though there was a flicker of fear that I'd get more terrible news.
At 8:30 am, I met my amazing nurse, Joanne. If there was a polar opposite to the nurse the night before, it was her. She was calm, confident and made it clear to me that she was there to support me and my natural birth plan. I did need antibiotics however, and so she put the IV in, somehow managing to thread the tiny tube in to my uncooperative veins between enormous, close, crashing waves. Doctor Stafford arrived in the middle of a wave, came to kneel beside me where I was kneeling on the back of the couch to look out the window and spoke to me. When the wave had passed he checked me - 9cm. Despite the hallucinations and black outs, the Ambien had done the job of helping me relax enough to progress. "Send Me On My Way" radio was now playing on Pandora. "Three Little Birds" played. Jen came back. I was fully dilated. I kept kneeling on the couch, looking out at the cerulean blue skies and this one, beautiful tree with toothy vibrant green leaves.
The details of the day are almost non existent to me, outside of my own body again. I know I began feeling pushy long before I held my son. I began to push long before I held my son. The work of riding the waves was exhausting, this dance with life was slowing down when it should have sped up. My body, worn out and in desperate need of real rest, began to space the waves out to 10 minutes. I couldn't push often enough or hard enough with waves like that to get my baby past my pubic bone.
Doctor Stafford and I discussed the options and I consented, though it wasn't what I had hoped for, to a Pitocin drip to bring the waves back up. I pushed in so many different positions; on the toilet, with one leg up on the shower bench, squatting on the side of the bed, on my knees, on all fours... all with Joe and Julie holding that warm compress on my back, holding my hand, keeping me hydrated and keeping my mother necklace close. All with Doctor Stafford gently, but firmly encouraging me to give each push my all by softly repeating "push, push, push, push, just a little more... give me a little bit more". (Not at all like those doctors that just tell you when to push, but rather, respecting my body's urges to push and simply encouraging me to give it everything) In the end, the position I was making the most progress in, was the one I couldn't be in, as each wave sent spasms from my hips to my neck, on my back.
I needed to meet my baby. I wanted so badly to hold this life I had worked so hard to bring here in my arms. So I did the bravest thing I could do in that moment; I threw my annoyance at painkillers and the thought that they somehow diminished my birth aside and admitted I needed help with the spasms. And to my great relief, all that I received was a small shot of stadol, which allowed me to continue to feel the waves and remain present in my body but kept the spasms at bay. In fact, when a particularly large wave sent pressure in to my back, I thought it was a spasm, but Jen said "No honey, that's a contraction. Push." Which made me laugh.
At 2:25 I was on my back on the bed (not how I had envisioned pushing, but my body knew better than my mind what to do) and I was pushing with everything I had during each wave and gently pushing between as well, to nudge baby out a little more gently. Joe held one leg back and Julie held the other. Stafford continued to encourage me. He brought the mirror over and Joe was replaced at my side by a medical student who had been shadowing Joanne. I reached down as baby was beginning to crown and Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" came on one last time as I touched the thick hair on the weirdly squishy head and that awoke my last bit of deep strength. In the next moments, I was all fire and power, strength welling up in my loins, travelling through the muscles and nerves of my body and escaping through the my mouth. I found my primal voice, connected in that moment to the mysteries of nature and the universe, in tune with the power of my ancestors and with one last powerful push I felt a slap of water, my leg dropped, there was a cry and thunderous applause.
Orion was welcomed in to his father's waiting hands, guided by one of the best doctors I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, after soaking the medical student holding my leg with the last of his amniotic fluids. Harry Bellafonte's "Day-O" was playing and I was in shocked, relieved, peace. The fire subsided, I was intact, no stitches needed and my son was placed on my chest by my teary eyed soul mate, where he started to suckle like an old pro.
In that moment, I became a Mother.
Thank you all for sharing in this story with me. I believe that each of our stories is so beautiful, not just births, but in general and that sharing our stories is not only cathartic but important. There's community and history, wisdom, humor and love in storytelling.
My doctor and my doula, Doctor W. Keith Stafford and Julie Byers, at their last birth together. Doctor Stafford delivered one final baby after Orion before retiring from obstetrics. I feel so very, very blessed to have been able to share in the final chapter of this birth team's story, to be one of the last of his legacy of births and to have been able to work with such a mother centric, baby friendly, non medically invasive and most importantly, genuinely caring, doctor. Our local birth community has lost an incredible practitioner now that the "grumpy midwife" has retired.