I love birth stories. Good or bad, I find them fascinating. If you do, too, mine was a pretty good one, so read on! (All the gory details...)
At my 40 week appointment on my due date (Dec. 5), the doctor told
me she expected labor to start in the next few days, since I was already 3 cm dilated. (Contractions had started the night before, right after I finished singing in the Concentus concert I was determined to perform in, but they let up.) Sure enough, I felt a contraction at 9:30
Tuesday night, Dec. 6. I felt a much stronger one about 11pm. For the rest of
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| Day before due date, with my favorite girls |
Finally around 4am contractions got to be about half hour apart, then 20 min, then
12-15 min, now lasting 2 min. The doctor had told me to come to the hospital when they were 5
minutes apart, so when Michael said at 5:45am, “We’re going to the hospital,”
I said, “They aren’t close enough. They’ll send me home.” He insisted we would
go. Between that insistence and actually getting out of bed to get ready, the pain got so bad and consistent that I couldn't even put pants or shoes on. I had asked my parents to come stay the night so they'd be there with Grace whenever we had to go, and when I said we were leaving (they were asleep) and my mom got up to give me a hug and say she loved me, even that was excruciating. I had the foresight to ask Michael to grab the tub under the sink in case I threw up (I had with Grace), and off we went.
We called the doctor from the car. I couldn't even answer the series of questions ("How far apart are your contractions? Who is your doctor?"), so Michael took over answering, as he was racing at 65 MPH in a 35 zone, while, sure enough, I put that tub to good use! I can't say this was my most enjoyable car ride, and I'm so grateful it was only a mile and a half to the hospital!
We pulled up by the door at 6am, and Michael hopped out to grab me a wheelchair. Somewhere in my strange brain I thought to grab the parking pass out of my purse and throw it on the dashboard, then got in the wheelchair. Michael explained to the man at the door that I was in active labor, and that sainted security guard, looking at our running car in the driveway, realized the urgency and offered to take me upstairs while Michael parked. Somehow I found a way to get out my ID for the admitting desk (all the while thinking, "My ID? You are joking, right? Do you see the state I am in??"), then they wheeled me off to triage.
A kindly woman who looks exactly like you would expect a midwife to look was introduced to me as the midwife, and she would check to see my progress while people tried to put monitors and various things on me. As she checked, Michael explained this was happening really soon, and sure enough the midwife said through smiling, kindly eyes, "You're 10 cm!" I said something like, "Holy crap!" Another surge of pain came and I was on my hands and knees, head buried in the pillow to muffle my cries. Next I knew, I had a blanket throw over top of me and I was being wheeled down the hall into the first available room, all the while offering the whole maternity floor my best warrior cry to fend off the pain. Never have I felt such urgency and intensity in my life!
Once in the room, I was swarmed with people trying to catch up with my rapid progress. Someone asked if I felt the urge to push, and I said no, then suddenly, for the first time, I did, and said, "Yes!" They said, "Go right ahead! Push however much you want!" That's when my water broke: 6:18am (and what a relief! A brief respite!). As I kept pushing, I heard someone say, "Just let her do her thing. She knows what to do," and they didn't interfere for a short time besides to offer me affirmations, and help along the work I was doing.
Soon enough, someone said, "There's so much hair! So much hair!" I kept pushing, now more
intentionally with advice from the doctor. It was about this time that our doula arrived - she almost missed the whole thing because it happened so quickly! |
| Me and my boy, under the blanket together |
When Grace crowned, she was out in two pushes. So I couldn't understand why after Isaac crowned, I still had to push several more times (maybe 8-10 rounds, still not bad!). Until now I had been on my knees, facing the wall, as I had delivered Grace. Now they told me, due to the baby's position, I should try turning around on my back, and using my knees to press down on my belly. Sure enough, it worked - just a few more pushes, and I felt that wonderful feeling of all his little limbs, slinking out into the world. So incredible! Michael was weeping beside me. Someone asked him, "Dad, can you see what we have?" And Michael said, "A boy!" I knew it!!
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| Baby Boy Rehbaum |
They placed that skinny little boy on my chest, and similar to with Grace, I wasn't so much flooded with emotion, but rather, I thought, "Well hello! Nice to see you!" I think I said, "Hi baby!" I was a little frustrated that the angle he had been placed made it hard to see his face, but I figured I'd have plenty of time to see his face later, and just enjoyed his warm body on mine, both of us under the same blanket together in our own little world. Michael continued to weep beside us.
In all that, I managed not to tear at all. I had remembered to gasp out at some point, "Delayed chord clamping," which they did, and I remembered to both ask to see the placenta and to remember what it looked like, which apparently also happened with Grace, but I have no recollection of it. The doctor
even showed me how it worked. :)
All in all, it was a pretty freaking awesome experience. Women's bodies are sure incredible, and I am once again stunned and impressed by my own unknown strength and ability to step up to do something that, even in the moment, seemed completely impossible. (I insisted "I can't!" many more times in this labor than with Grace, and was repeatedly told, "Yes, you can!" Turns out they were right!)
The next part of the drama of Isaac's birth was coming up with his name, but that is for another post. Stay tuned for next time!
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