river's very long short birth story

The Start of My Labor

My water broke at 1:00pm on August 10th, which I immediately thought was crazy and hilarious, since John kept saying my labor was going to start with my water breaking. I have been all about statistics this pregnancy (it's easy to debate homebirth with people when good statistics are on your side), so I kept telling him "only 15% of labor starts with a woman's water breaking, so I don't think that's going to happen." I also thought it was crazy and hilarious because it was only 2 days after River's estimated due date, and I expected him to be a week late, if not more. Two days isn't bad for a first time baby (first-time mommies are 8 days late on average. See? Statistics are handy.)

Our air conditioner was out at our apartment, so we'd spent the night at the church, and John had just gone downstairs to work 15 minutes earlier. I was half-snoozing when I felt a small stream of water, and at first I thought I had peed in my pants, which was strange since it's not everyday I involuntarily,or voluntarily, for that matter, wet myself. I ran to the bathroom and called John, saying "This might sound crazy but I think my water just broke." It felt weird to say that. It sure sounded crazy to me. I knew I was 9 months (uh, 10 months?) pregnant, but seriously, did I actually have to give birth? WHAT?!

John came upstairs to, well, do nothing I suppose, and then went downstairs to send off a few emails before going home. I started happily packing up my things, thinking "Oh hooray, we'll have a baby by tomorrow morning!" and joined him downstairs, where water gushed twice more before we finally went home, soaking my pants. How awkward. And they say you probably won't be in a public place even if it does happen. Thanks, What to Expect, for trying to put my crazy pregnant mind at ease.

At the exact moment I started climbing the stairs to our apartment, I had a contraction. It was 45 minutes after my water first broke. It was crampy, but not bad at all, and I was so excited and relieved that my labor was actually starting. I kind of figured it never would. (I don't know how I expected the baby to actually enter the world.) The maintenance man was still fixing our AC in the apartment, so I decided to take a shower to keep cool and pass the time. I got out twenty minutes later when the contractions started getting a little harder, and John called my friend Samantha for me, who I had planned to have at the birth. I gave her a list of things we still needed for the birth, and when I was about to get off the phone ten minutes later, I realized I had had about five contractions during the conversation. They were like mild menstrual cramps - I could talk through them, but they were a bit painful. Nothing I couldn't easily handle.

Labor Gets Difficult

She called me back a few minutes later and said she was coming over right away, because it sounded like I was going into active labor, and that her sister Grace was going to stop at the store . This is when things started getting a little foggy. I'm pretty sure Sam showed up around 3:00 pm, and she immediately started timing my contractions, which were all thirty seconds to two minutes apart, and very sporadic. Within the next hour, three calls were made to my midwife that went a little something like this..

1. 3:15pm: It's Whitney. Oh yeah, I'm doing great. They are painful, but I can still talk through them. No worries!

2. 3:34pm: Um, hi. It's Samantha. I think Whitney's in active labor. Yeah. They are getting stronger and closer together.

3. 4:20: It's John. Uh, Whitney needs you. Now.

So, as you can see by my very descriptive story of my labor, everything happened very quickly. Sometime during the last forty-five minutes, Samantha's sister Grace and their sweet aunt Beate arrived at our apartment. Beate and Sam were helping me through contractions and rubbing my back while Grace and John were running around (probably like chickens with their heads cut off - but like I said, I don't remember much after about 3:15) getting things ready (I assume). Right after John got off the phone with her, Alisa lef for our apartment. Salli, the assistant midwife, had left her home a while ago to come check on me and update Alisa on my labor and was expected to arrive before her (Alisa had sprained her ankle just two weeks before and was avoiding walking if she didn't have to) - my whole pregnancy, I warned John that I might get very grumpy during labor, but the bitchiest thing I said (or grunted between contractions, rather) was "I don't want that other midwife - I want Alisa!"

Transition

During my whole labor, I kept running a typical first birth through my head - I was expecting this to last at least 12 hours, and the first few hours of labor to be easy enough for me to continue through my day. At one point, when I had been laboring for about two hours, I told Beate after a very hard contraction, "I don't want to go through hours more of this." And she said, "Oh you won't...this baby is going to be here very soon." I remember not believing her, but hoping with all my heart she was right. After another contraction, I said I didn't think I could do it. I heard so many women say the point where you don't think you can handle any more is right before the baby is about to arrive. I thought I was just being a baby, but I held onto that bit of knowledge.

[I must take a moment to explain a revelation I had about my birthing experience. After I gave birth to River, I knew that what every other woman had said about a planned, drug-free, relaxed birth was so true - that it was an amazing, empowering experience. But one thing I didn't understand when I was reading others' birth stories was that women used the word "intense" to describe their contractions getting harder. I wondered if that meant more painful, or something else, and if it did mean pain, why didn't they just say pain instead of confusing and scaring a poor, young, about-to-birth mama like myself? There are enough unknowns already! After I gave birth, I was telling my story to someone and realized I was using the same word - intense. I thought about why I was using this, because my contractions were very painful, and when they got more intense, that does mean the pain intensified. Then it dawned on me - in our society, we associate the word "pain" with negative things. But my birthing experience was anything but negative - it was the best experience in my life. Just thought I would let you in on that little birthing secret. ;)]

Sure enough, I was in transition, and started feeling like I might throw up. This was one of my biggest fears, but I had come to a point of acceptance before I went into labor that if I threw up, everything would really be okay, and besides, it might help me dilate a few centimeters. I ended up not throwing up, but realized what I was feeling was the need to push. Weird to get those things confused, but that's how I experienced it. I started grunting a lot during my contractions and didn't even realize this was my body trying to tell me to push. Alisa arrived at about 4:45, and checked to see how much I was dilated - I was 9.5 cm. She told me I could breathe through the next few contractions and push when I reached 10 cm, or I could push if I wanted, but that she would have to push the lip of my cervix back so that I was fully dilated and it might hurt. I couldn't imagine just breathing through the next few contractions, and also couldn't imagine anything could hurt more than these contractions, so I decided to push.

Pushing

I got in the birth pool that had magically been blown up during sometime for which I was apparently not present (I was busy in Labor Land, as my midwife calls it). The warm water was amazing and helped so much with the pain. I grunted a lot through the first push, and Alisa told me to use all that energy to push downward. I remember that not making sense at first (my head was very foggy), and asked her to say it again. Once I got it, it helped more than I could imagine, and after the first few pushes, I got the hang of it. I can't remember if I could feel River moving down at first, but I do remember a bit later, when I realized how freaking huge he was, and wondered how the hell that head was supposed to fit. This is when I experience fear for the first time, but this is also where the labor got truly amazing. I realized I was scared, and even voiced "How is this supposed to come out?" but I was also thinking of all the natural (planned) births I had read about. In Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, she talks about how much psychology has a hand in having a good birth experience, and that women who were scared, embarrassed, sad, or upset (or any other negative emotion) wouldn't progress in their labor, or sometimes their labor would stop altogether. I reminded myself that this is what my body was designed to do - that women thousands of years before me had given birth naturally, perfectly, and were just fine, and that I would be holding my baby in my arms in just a short while. I decided to push through the pain. I could feel him moving down, and reminded myself that it was two steps forward, one step back - but that every push was a step closer to having my baby.

The whole pushing experience was worlds better than trying to deal with contractions. Pushing through the contractions sort of masked the pain, and made time go by so quickly. I was exhausted, like I hadn't slept in forever, and rested against John between pushes. Despite the pain, it was a very calm, relaxed time during the labor.

River, Meet World

When Alisa told me I was crowning, I couldn't believe it. Even though I had been pushing for almost an hour, I had no concept of time, and I could sit here today and tell you I pushed for ten minutes. She asked me if I wanted to feel the baby's head, but I said no (I understand why, but I am still surprised!). I was concentrating so hard on pushing, I didn't want to stop or get distracted. After a few more pushes, she and John made me feel his head, and I'm so glad she did. What a hit of reality! His head was wrinkly and his hair felt like algae on a river rock (haha, seriously, no pun intended). Finally his head was out, and I was more than ready to get the rest of him out and hold him. Eventually, that happened too, and when he came out, I squealed...haha. I hate that word, but that's what I did. It wasn't because it hurt, at all, but because I was so ecstatic to have this little boy I had been bonding with for nine months, in my arms, FINALLY!

During my birthing experience, I felt such a strong connection between me and God, between me and River, and it gave me a better understanding, respect, and pride in my body and what I am capable of. One of the things I was worried about while I was pregnant was becoming too tired to give birth. I am a person who has zero resistance (totally and sadly out of shape). While I definitely got exhausted, I found strength in myself I didn't know I have. I feel like I gave River a gift, too. He was born in a peaceful, loving environment. I was the one who "caught" him. I was the first person to hold him. He laid on me and nursed within ten minutes of being born. And then he didn't leave me for a while, because I got to hold him as long as I wanted. He got to spend his first night of life in bed with me and John - in our home. I can sit here today and say I truly enjoyed giving birth. I encourage ALL women who plan on having babies to RESEARCH birth. I am thankful to God that it is something he has given me as a woman - he created my body to do something incredible. If you are low-risk, consider drug-free birth. It is a beautiful, natural thing, not something to be scared of. It's not an illness that requires you to be hospitalized and pushed in a wheel chair. And it's something you are totally and completely capable of.

quincy the octopus

about two years ago john and i decided to make a stuffed animal. thus quincy was born, out of about 6 hours of labor (the sewing kind, that is.) this august when my family came to visit river after he was born, my sister fell in love with quincy, and so i told her i would make her her very own octopus - and then quincy's little brother leo was born.

now, after making leo, i have this excitement and urge to start making more home-made things, like stuffed animals. but it doesn't stop there. all of a sudden, i want to make clothes for river, and learn how to knit, and sew cute bags and what-not. anything you can think of. heck i would even learn wood-work if i could. i want to go to joanne's and buy discount fabric and goodwill to buy sweaters that will turn into owls and dogs. oh, i am so excited. expect there to be many photos of sad-looking little stuffed animals with lazy smiles and threads sticking out everywhere and limbs attached loosely. hooray!

growing, growing, growing

It really is amazing watching him grow. Three weeks ago he could have cared less about his toys hanging down from his mobile, or the music they made when we pulled them. And now I’m watching him stare at his toys and quiet down when they light up and make music. Two weeks ago his little booties that my friend Natalie bought him fell off his tiny feet. I just remembered them today, and thought we’d give them another try, and now they are too tight. He’s wearing a size 6 month onesie right now, and the little newborn-size outfit his Aunt Rosy bought him won’t even snap at the bottom (not to mention, this was another favorite of mine. Dangit.) He’s been in this world for almost an entire month (this Monday, if you’re counting weeks, or this Thursday, if you’re going from the tenth of August to the tenth of September) and I’m pretty sure I can see him growing as I’m looking at him. Yup.

a better day

I feel so much more at ease today than yesterday. I seem to forget sometimes that those moody pregnancy hormones don’t just disappear with the baby bump. It was easy to laugh off my mood swings when I was pregnant, but now they feel so real when I don’t think there is an excuse behind them. They don’t come often at all -- I’ve had three crying sessions since he’s been born, and they are short lived.

I started writing a brief story of my labor with River (very, very brief, going into nearly zero detail) and remembering how well everything went. I truly believe that my giving in to labor and not fearing the had a lot to do with that, and I started thinking maybe I need to take that same approach with River when he has his high-need days. Not to be afraid, not to blame myself for his fussiness, and not to feel like I am not doing enough as a mommy.

the first difficult day

Today has been difficult. I’m learning what it is to be a mommy, I guess. I’m sitting here looking around at our messy apartment, catching whiffs of the three garbage bags sitting behind the couch, thinking Seriously? I can’t handle a three week old and keep an apartment clean? I feel like I tricked myself a bit. Like I’m waiting for someone to jump out and say told you so. I don’t want to hear told you so. I’ve never had to hear told you so before.

I guess I can justify it a bit by saying I don’t deserve a complete told you so. It’s not nearly as difficult as parents told me so it was going to be. Before I had River, I was telling my dad I can’t wait to have this baby. I will take sleepless nights with an infant over being pregnant any day. And he said oh you just wait and see. You’ll be exhausted. I didn’t get sleep until the kids were older than three.

Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve only had two sleepless nights since he’s been born -- the first two nights of his life. After those nights, we both got a better hang of sharing sleep and nursing in bed, and it has been bliss. I would say at this point, the nights are better and calmer than the days.

I feel trapped in my apartment. My body is not completely healed; in fact, I took a couple steps backward in the healing process by doing too much, too fast. I feel fine, so it’s frustrating to have to stay at home and do nothing. I can’t even vacuum -- can you imagine that? I mean, I don’t even enjoy vacuuming, but just because I can’t vacuum, I want to vacuum. And this has absolutely convinced me I very much dislike living in an upstairs apartment. If we just lived downstairs, I could have at least gone to work with John and have internet access, work on a few photography projects, email my clients their receipts I promised them before River was born -- yeah so much for that -- instead of being stuck at home watching crappy shows like According to Jim and catching whiffs of trash that needs to be taken out. I guess I should try to convince John it’s time to put in our 30 days notice with our apartment manager. Oh I am so melodramatic sometimes.

Have I mentioned the only reason I have time to sit down and write this is because my wonderful, sweet, hardworking husband took River on a car ride? And did I say anything about him willingly changing his diaper first? I just realized I hadn’t breathed a sigh of relief yet, so I just did. I think it was because I was feeling a bit guilty for thanking the heavens he took the baby off my hands for a short while.

One thing that has made today particularly difficult is this strange bump in the breastfeeding road which we have come upon. He nurses wonderfully on one side for about ten minutes, then gets so antsy and wiggly and accidentally detaches, so I burp him. When I try to latch him back on, he becomes spastic, rooting around at everything, especially his little hands (I never knew it was so hard to get teeny baby hands out of the way when trying to breastfeed) and is still so hungry. I switch him to the other side, he latches on just fine, but then the same thing happens. So now he’s sick of both sides, and still hungry, but full enough to be okay for maybe 30 to 45 minutes. And then we just repeat the whole thing. This has been going on for the past two days. I don’t know what to tell him. Sorry babe, but I only have two boobs.
For the record, I just want to say, I completely understand why women choose to formula-feed. Not that I ever will -- I am a die-hard supporter of breastfeeding. But I understand. It would be so easy to dump a bit of powder into a 4 ounce bottle of water, shake it up, pop it in his mouth, and simply repeat every three to four hours. Even hand the baby over to someone else a couple feedings here and there. Not to mention my sore boobs would get a wonderful break. And no one ever told me it was so awkward to breastfeed in public. How do those expert mamas do it? It’s not that I’m embarrassed, but I feel embarrassed embarrassing people. I honestly don’t give a damn who sees the goods when I’m feeding my baby. They’re just doing what God designed them to do. By the way, note to self: standing in a stall in a public restroom feeding a 9 ½ pound baby really does a number on one’s back. In the future, do not attempt.

Nursing and being held is all that has made him happy today. It is eleven o’clock at night, and I am completely worn out. I have attempted to pick up the apartment three times, and each time was unsuccessful because River wanted to be picked up instead. John commented on how I didn’t finish either of the two bowls of cereal I poured for myself, and I told him it was because I didn’t have time. I barely had time to use the restroom. Forget taking a shower. I just realized I haven’t brushed my teeth all day. That’s disgusting. Well, at least I know River doesn’t mind. He’s fine as long as he is held, nursing, held, changed, nursing, bounced, patted, nursing, held, rocked, changed, nursing, bounced, held. Nursing. Then he’s just fine.

It’s been about an hour since John took River on their adventure to Walmart and Redbox. I’m starting to miss my little boy. Let’s just hope today was a funky day, that tomorrow I can pick up the apartment all I want, eat a whole bowl of cereal, reminisce about vacuuming, and brush my teeth. I’ve had my break, and I guess an hour is all I can go without holding him. For now at least. He doesn’t just need me. I need him, too.