On Friday the 5th, I felt crampy all day, much like I did on Election Day. I was hopeful that it was a sign of more adventures to come soon, but I also tried to be calm and not expect anything yet. When I picked Charon up from school, her teacher looked at me sympathetically and said, "I can't believe the baby isn't here yet!" "I know," I replied. "I am sooooo ready."
Starting around 7 p.m., I started to notice the cramps were coming in a more regular pattern. I worked on the computer a bit, surfing the Internet and playing solitaire, and soon I was stopping every 15 or 20 minutes to kneel on the floor, leaning forward on the little couch we have next to the computer. I needed to concentrate a bit on the ache, let it come and go, and then I could get back to what I was doing.
A friend called around this time, and we talked for a bit. One of these aches came while I was listening to her, and I told her this after it was over. "You'd better get to the hospital!" she exclaimed. I laughed and told her I thought it would be quite awhile yet before Penguin made his or her appearance.
Pete and I put Charon to bed, and after she was asleep, I paid attention to the aches again before going down to tell Pete about them. "They are different from Tuesday night," I explained. "I can tell when one is going to come, and then I just pay a bit of attention to it, and I can tell when it's going away." There wasn't the back pain that there was on Tuesday night, either. I wanted him to time them. He opened a new Word document on our laptop, and started recording the last one I had. Then we looked at each other for about 30 seconds. "Goodness," I finally said. "I don't want to sit here waiting for these. Let's watch some t.v. or something." We decided to put in a DVD of SCTV, which was perfect.
I was now starting to think of them more as little contractions. When one would come, I would lean on the birth ball and roll around with it until it was over. A couple of times, I asked Pete, "Was that skit worth seeing?" He didn't realize I was missing some of the show because of these; they really weren't making me moan or anything yet, although I did at times because it felt good to vocalize something.
At 10 p.m., Pete decided to call my parents and tell them to head over here in case it was "the night." That's when I started crying, telling him, "But we don't know if this is it yet! What if it isn't? I hate making everyone getting excited for this, and then disappointing them all." I had handled Tuesday night's false start pretty well up until this point. I didn't want to make others' lives crazy if it wasn't necessary again. Pete assured me that they would be fine if Penguin didn't come until a week or two from now, and he explained that he'd feel much better knowing they were right here for Charon if needed. "They are probably just going to bed; better to catch them now than in the middle of the night."
When they got here, we visited with them a bit, and then I told Pete I needed more quiet time to deal with the contractions. They headed upstairs to bed. During this time, we had called Beth, our doula, to tell her what was going on. When I called again and gave her the info on what was currently happening, she said, "Congratulations! You're in labor!" I still wasn't sure whether this would continue or taper off again, but it felt good to hear her say that. She offered to come over, and I finally agreed that it would be really nice to have her here.
Beth arrived close to midnight, and she was wonderful. The three of us sat in our living room with the lights dimmed. I knelt on the floor in front of the birth ball. I'd draped my favorite blanket over it so that I was hugging both the ball and the blanket through the contractions. Beth watched me through a few of them; they were still coming about 10 to 15 minutes apart, lasting a minute or so, and felt very manageable to me. She said we should call the midwife, just to let her know where we were at, and to be sure they knew we were planning a waterbirth so that they could have the tub filled in time for us. The midwife listened to me talk through a few of my contractions, said it wasn't quite time to come yet, but that she expected to hear from me later in the evening (morning?).
Beth suggested a shower, which felt really good, and then either a rest or a walk, whatever I preferred. I decided I wanted to go for a short walk down our block and back with Pete.
Our neighborhood was so peaceful at 1 a.m. Most houses had all of their lights out, but a few looked to have some activity going on, and I wondered about the people inside. I thought about how birth is a combination of something very magical yet completely ordinary at the same time. Tomorrow, I thought, I might be holding this baby in my arms rather than toting it around in my belly. What a transformation that would be. And these houses will continue to wake and sleep, not realizing the change that was happening tonight on their watch.
I had about three contractions on the walk. Pete and I talked quietly, and then I would stop and hug him through each one. It was romantic. I can't remember the last time we were out walking after midnight (a la Patsy Cline.)
When we came back inside, Beth had made us some tea. "Red raspberry leaf, for a healthy uterus," she explained. We sipped the tea for a bit and chatted together. Then I had to go to the bathroom.
I found a lot of bloody show on my underwear - there was no mistaking it. In fact, it scared me a bit, and I called for Beth, showing it to her and asking if it was okay. "Yes, that's very good!" she praised with a grin. "Thanks, Mom," I told her sheepishly. Funny how I felt so comfortable showing someone I just met two months ago my bloody show. That pretty much sums up how wonderful she is. 
At that point, I was feeling pretty tired. Pete and I went into the den, where we have a sectional couch, and I tried dozing between contractions. Beth stayed out in the living room on our couch, giving us some quiet time alone.
Gradually, the contractions got more intense, and closer together. By 3 a.m. or so, they were coming about every 6 to 8 minutes, and were getting quite painful. I was still very good-natured in between them, but I vividly remember the one that made me look up afterwards and say, "I don't want to do that in the car on the way to the hospital!"
Pete called for Beth to come and watch me deal with a few of these. He explained that I was feeling like things were getting intense, and he was starting to feel like Dick Van Dyke in the episode where Laura is expecting. Beth confirmed that now would be a good time to get packed up to head to the hospital, that we still had plenty of time and didn't need to rush. Pete put everything in the car and let my parents know we were off while Beth sat with me. I moaned with gusto during these contractions, and said after several of them, "Yikes. Okay, I know now that this is the real thing!"
It was still peacefully quiet in our neighborhood as we headed to the car. Beth reminded us that we could stop along the way if I was having a hard time through contractions, and she also mentioned that they might ease up a bit in the car, giving me a short break for the ride. I did have three contractions on the drive over, but told Pete, "Keep going, I'm okay."
We parked in the ramp and walked through a tunnel to get to the hospital entrance, but the door was locked. Pete read a sign: "After hours, please push the button." We looked around; there was no button! Then Pete saw a phone by the door, and he picked it up. Thankfully, someone answered. We were told we were supposed to enter after hours by the emergency room. Beth joked that she felt like we had just gotten to the gates at Emerald City. "Remember that guy that tells them to go away?" Beth and Pete explained that I was in active labor, and that we needed to get in now. Could they please send someone to open the doors? And they did. While waiting, Pete and Beth observed me, smiling away. "You need to look like you're in more pain, Caryl! They're going to think we're pranksters or something." I was really feeling pretty good.
A nice young man met us with a wheelchair. "Can I walk instead?" I asked. "Let's try riding," he said, so I sat down in the chair and then immediately rose up again as a contraction hit. Pete had put the birth ball on top of our suitcase so that I could lean against it. After watching me, the young man said, "Why don't you walk?" I had one more contraction in the elevator on the way up to the maternity floor.
The surges were painful, but they were still only coming every five minutes or so. I remember getting off the elevator and seeing a nurse further down the hall, watching us as we made our way to her. As I got closer, I could see her beaming at us. She was older, short and strong, with a head of curly white hair and smiling eyes. "I'm Eileen," she introduced herself, and took us down to our room.
"I should do a monitor strip first for admittance," she informed us. "Yes, I expected that, but could you do it while I'm standing?" "It would help if you could lie down. Let's try it on your side, okay?" I decided to give it a try, expecting a contraction to make me hop back out of the bed just when I lay down, as I did with the wheelchair. I dressed in a hospital gown and put the stretchy belt around my belly. Eileen attached the monitor, and I eased myself down onto my side. When the contraction came, Eileen immediately pressed her warm hands on the small of my back, and it was incredible how that eased the pain. "Wow," I said afterwards. "What did you just do? I hardly felt that contraction." Beth called Pete over so that they could watch Eileen's magic trick, hoping to imitate it.
They had me drink some water. It tasted so good and cold, and I sucked it down quickly. A little bit later, it all came back up again. "That's okay," Eileen reassured us. "Actually, that's a really good sign."
The midwife came in. Eileen said, "The baby's heartbeat is 100-110. That's a little lower than we'd like to see." Melanie, the midwife, said, "Yes, but it's okay. Baby's handling the contractions just fine, so I feel like everything is looking good." Then she checked my cervix. "Eileen, what's your guess for where Caryl is at?"
"Well, she was at three on Tuesday, and she told me to tell you she had to be at least that!" Laughter. "I'd guess she's at five to six."
That was my guess, too. I was in pain, but didn't feel overwhelmed by it yet, and I was still smiling in between contractions.
"She's at 8 to 9!" the midwife announced. Tears in my eyes. "I can't believe it! Hooray!" I was very proud of my body. I was handling this labor much better than I expected I would.
Everyone was thrilled, and the anticipation mounted. "Let's get that birthing tub ready!" As we walked down the hall, I heard the midwife announcing to people, "This woman is in transition! Can you believe it?" I smiled as I passed everyone. I was in a fog now, becoming completely introverted during a contraction, then coming back out into the world for a bit in between.
We entered the waterbirth room, and it was even more lovely than I'd remembered it. At about 5 a.m., it was still dark outside, but the sun was just getting ready to appear. Eileen helped me change into my maternity swimsuit top - "the last time I'll wear this" - and then placed a stool by the tub and supported me as I stepped in. The water looked so inviting, and I sank right into it.
I went down on all fours right away, but Eileen suggested I try resting the other way in the tub with my head against the edge, swaying my body, floating back and forth when a contraction came. But when it did, I swooped back to my all-fours position. I don't know why, but throughout labor, this is how I managed through all of the contractions.
I suddenly felt an urge to push. "Can I push?" I asked Melanie. "Yes, go for it!" I pushed a bit with the next contraction, but it hurt. I took that opportunity to tell my birth team that I was very nervous about this stage. "I had a really hard time pushing Charon out. I never had an urge to push, I pushed for about four hours, and then finally let them try the vacuum. Thankfully, that worked, but I don't want that to happen again." Everyone reassured me that this time it was a new baby, that this time would be a different experience.
Melanie checked to see if my water had broken yet, and discovered it had when I settled into the tub. "All clear," she said. With the next contraction, I tried not pushing, but listening to my body instead. That hurt, too. After a couple more contractions, Melanie told me she wanted me to turn over, that turning to my back would help the baby's position. I was worried about this, but again, willing to try. (Beth explained later that I still had a lip that needed to fully dilate, and the midwife thought changing positions would help to put pressure on this area.)
They had me put my feet up on the side handles of the tub while I pushed with each contraction. Each push hurt terribly, but I could feel that each push was much more productive than when I was trying to push on all fours. I could feel my baby moving through the birth canal, and it was terribly intense and painful. Not pushing felt worse.
I still had about five minutes between contractions, and I used this time to try to relax my entire body in the warm water. When the contraction came, I steeled myself, determined to make something happen with each one. I wanted to get this over with quickly!
Melanie had said when I got into the tub, "You're going to need to stop smiling at some point," and I took that as permission to groan and whine and yell through each contraction as I pushed. In between, I would turn to Pete and tell him how amazed I was that I was being so vocal this time. He just smiled at me, and later told me I really wasn't as loud as I imagined I was being. When I saw Beth a couple of weeks after the birth, she also confirmed that I was not as loud as I had imagined.
With each push, I said things like, "Ow, ow, ow! That hurts so much!" and "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this. How am I going to do this?"
Soon, I heard Beth tell me to reach down and touch my baby's head. And there it was, a bumpy little hard spot appearing between my legs. I felt Penguin's soft hair, and then I knew it was going to be okay. I just had to get through this pain.
The next few pushes continued to be intense. I remember people telling me to feel my baby's head again. "Can you find baby's ear?" Yes, there it was. The baby was crowning, its head pretty much out, and I didn't even feel the ring of fire. I think being in the water made this part incredibly easy.
Melanie explained that with the next push, she was going to pull the baby's shoulders out because the baby wasn't rotating. I said, "Yes, please pull the baby out! I'm ready." Again, I felt no pain when she did this except the intensity of the baby moving through me. I heard the midwife announce that there was some meconium that came out in the water just after he was born.
And then he was in my arms. It was 6:25 a.m. Leo! Little Leo. Well, big Leo, as we all guessed he was around nine pounds. He cried a bit, but then settled down when I cooed at him. I turned to Pete, who looked so relieved and happy, and smiled. Penguin was finally here!
The midwife suctioned him more deeply because of the meconium, but he didn't really seem to mind, and I was glad I got to hold him while she did this. She said he looked great - healthy and strong.
I wasn't surprised to hear he was a boy, but I don't think I would have been surprised if the baby had been a girl, either. This baby was my baby, my Penguin, no matter what its sex, and he was immediately familiar to me. His body felt warm and snug against mine.
Leo went to Daddy while I delivered the placenta. I lost quite a bit of blood, and so they gave me a shot of Pitocin to help my uterus contract. When I got out of the water, I felt the stinging I suspect was from the crowing and emerging of the baby, but I hadn't felt any of those sensations until I left the tub. I had a small tear - three stitches on the site of the episiotomy I'd had with Charon.
Leo came to me again, and we nursed for the first time while Pete and I visited with Beth. She'd taken photos of the birth. "Don't look at the pictures until you write your birth story," she recommended. "Let your memories be what you record first, before the photos make their impression on you." I haven't looked at them yet; I will after I finish this.
"I remember you saying, 'You are so strong, Caryl,'" I told Beth. "And that made me feel like I really was strong, like I could do this. I would get a great burst of energy after hearing that, sort of like I needed to say, 'Yes, you are right, I can do this.' And I'd push hard, even though it hurt so much."
I turned to Pete. "You just look so incredibly proud."
"I am," he replied, smiling at the two of us.
When they weighed the baby a little bit later, Pete looked at me with wide eyes. "He's ten pounds, six ounces," he announced. Ah. Maybe that explains the long wait past my due date and the intensity of the pushing stage. I did it! Incredible.
Note: I want to thank Maribeth for letting me share my pregnancy and birth story through this journal. It was a wonderful exercise for me, and will be a beautiful keepsake for our family. I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't given me the opportunity, Mari! Thank you so much.
