May 15, 2008

The hardest and most wonderful experience I have ever had was giving birth to our daughter.

At my prenatal appointment the morning before (14th), midwife Tara helped move things along (I'll spare you the details) by moving me from 1cm to 3cm and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't come in tonight to have this baby." I started having mild contractions at 11am on the 14th. I knew she would be coming soon, so prepared her birthday cake for all of us to enjoy after she was born. By 7pm that night, things were rolling along quite nicely. I had convinced myself by morning, when contractions were 3 minutes apart, that "this isn't so bad; I think I can really handle this." Sam and I would sleep in 10 minute increments that night.

We went on several walks the morning of the 15th and decided around 10:30 to call the midwife. Jill told us to come on in. I was at 4cm. 4 hours later, and I was still at 4cm. 3 hours later than that. I had walked, sat on the birthing ball, leaned over another birthing ball, got in the tub, went on another walk outside with Sam, swayed back and forth with Sam like we were dancing, walked the floor back and forth, and drank multiple shots of black cohosh. Still only 4cm. Good friends stopped by to help put pressure on my lower back to relieve the pain from some serious back labor (and to give Sam a break). Still, nothing.

I told Jill, her apprentice Skye, and the nurse that I was getting really frustrated. She offered to break my water, use pain meds, etc. A friend was in the room, putting pressure on my lower back with a heat pack. I told Jill I'd like to wait a bit longer and then a contraction came. My water broke at that instant (7:20pm) and things immediately changed (as did my language for the remainder of the evening...). This pain got my attention. I was no longer jovial or chatty in between contractions.

I ended up in the bathroom, vomiting, leaning over the sink with Sam and Jill consoling me. I felt like I was going to lose it. Jill assured me that I could handle it: "you just need to manage these contractions differently now." I felt like Stevie Wonder with my head moving from side to side, while I grasped on to the sink faucet. In between contractions the cold faucet felt so good on my face (strange what I found comforting). Jill asked if I'd like to get in the tub. My response, "I want in there so bad I can taste it."

I then told Sam, "We are adopting our next child."

Finally, I got in the tub with Sam. The water was really, really hot. I started vomiting again as I rocked back and forth to manage the mounting pain that I was certain I could not handle one contraction longer. I was so thankful for what I called the "after-shock" contractions...the mild one's that follow the big ones. After a while, the feeling in my lower legs, ankles and feet were gone - simply dead. I tried to lean back on to Sam so I could move my legs and get some blood to my feet. A contraction came, along with excruciating pain from the back labor. I am convinced that if I were made to labor on my back, I would have demanded pain meds. Simply intolerable.

The midwives took turns holding my hands, looking me dead in the eye and breathing with me, shaking their heads "yes" while I shook my head "no." All I could think of was how kind they were, sitting here breathing with me while I rhythmically blew my vomit-breath in their faces. At some point I moved into what they called "a zone." There was complete silence from everyone while I whaled in pain, desperate (truly) for someone to hold my hand and push on my back (thank you, Sam, for pushing on my back for about 3 straight hours). I got really hot so they brought me a bowl of ice and water. I drenched a wash cloth and squeezed it over my head -- over and over. Skye suggested that I move onto the bed. I told her I was afraid. Afraid it would hurt more. I'm not sure how much time had passed. Sam suggested I get onto the bed. I suppose I needed to hear it from him, because I made no protest, just a simple, "OK". They had to help me get out -- again, no feeling in my legs from sitting on them.

They had this birthing ball in the shape of an egg. It was great to lean over and let gravity pull Ada away from my back. Not sure how long I was on the bed. You lose complete track of time. 5 minutes felt like and hour. An hour felt like 5 minutes.

At some point my sounds changed. The feelings changed. I heard the midwife say to the nurse, "write down, spontaneous pushing" at whatever time it was. One of the midwives told me to bring the sound down into my lower register, "to make the most of it." I was screaming and pushing. Sam was next to me the whole time, I am sure thinking to himself, "who is this woman?" The midwife kept telling me, "bring your noise down lower...sound like a gorilla." So I made noises like a gorilla (and a possessed one at that). The word "hurt" minimizes the actual sensation of giving birth. My two cents - there isn't a word adequate enough.

The door would open every now and then. I could see the feet of my friends lined up against one another in the hallway. Later, I could hear their whispering voices on the other side of the door, as they leaned with their ears up to it (yes, ladies, I knew you were there!) and then scurried away when the door would open. We finally gave them the frosting so they could finish off the cake and have it ready!

Jill suggested I get on the birthing chair, so I did. Again, gravity helped. I asked Jill, "What should I expect...what's the worst part of this." She said, "the head, then you will feel relief." I was so afraid because the pain was so great. I was convinced there was no way for her to come out. Then I looked down, Sam at my side and saw the little tip of her head. That was the motivation I needed. The next push would be the last. She came out sideways, with her little right hand up to her cheek. They handed her up to me while Sam and I got back on the bed, both of us overwhelmed with emotion. At 10:17 pm. Ada had finally arrived.

I had not anticipated spending the night at the Birth Center, but am so glad we did. They put a co-sleeper in the bed with us. Ada between Sam and I. She woke us up at 5am. I have very little memory of it, but I apparently snatched her up when she started crying and held her while we both slept for another hour or so. At 6:15 am, I woke up and decided it was time to take her home.

Ada will be two weeks old tomorrow. I am amazed, proud and sad at how much she has already grown. She is longer, fatter, a little more hair, more alert and changing everyday. Sam and I giggle when she cries (it's just so cute), love how she throws her arms up over her head when she sleeps and how she kicks her little legs like a bull (she is a Taurus after all).

I am proud of her birth story, proud of how hard Sam worked to help me get Ada here and proud of our new family. I couldn't be happier or more in love with both of them.