March 1, 2006 I've arrived at this very strange point in my pregnancy.
Things feel hazy and unreal.
Everything is stopping except my gestation.
I can't bring myself to do anything.
When I do something I am punished by scourges of exhaustion.
I am sleeping 10 hours a day, sometimes more.
Being this exhausted is frightening. How on earth can I do the marathon that is labor when I am always so tired?
The night before last I had lots of low, achy cramping. I wondered if that is what it feels like when the cervix dilates before labor begins.
For several hours last night I had strong contractions every five minutes or so.
And so begins the time when I am surprised each morning that I wake up, still pregnant.
And so begins the end.
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That is one of my favorite journal entries of my pregnancy. The next few days were filled with sleep, mucous, contractions, and incessant prayers for the baby to come. It had been a miserable pregnancy and by the 5th of March I felt like a time bomb. Even my children were getting antsy for the baby to come.
Monday, March 6th I called my friend Jade at about 9:30 in the morning. I asked her pleadingly, “How much more mucous can possibly come out of me before this baby comes?” Her answer, “Copious amounts” reverberated in my head the entire day. I had to open a box of pads I was so leaky. I was having contractions every 15 to 20 minutes or so I guessed, and they would command my full attention. Jade came by the house in the early afternoon. She brought me a birth ball and gave me a massage. She also gave me the lid from her son’s SOBE. It said, “Stiffler’s Mom”. It made my day. We estimated by my candy cane that I was dilated to about a six. A time bomb, indeed.
After Jade left I napped. At about 5:30 pm. I made dinner that evening and tried to sit down and watch a movie with my family. I was very uncomfortable on the couch. I left the dinner mess for John and retired to my room. At 8:30 I had commented to someone that the contractions were coming about every ten minutes. I called my mom and told her that I wasn’t sure what was going on, or whether or not she would need to take the next day off of work. I told her to go to work prepared to come here if I called. The contractions were intense and I was suddenly exhausted. I plugged myself into the MP3 player listening to classical guitar and lit my diffuser full of tea-tree oil.
I slept between the contractions and breathed through them as the waves passed over me. I went on like that for almost an hour and a half, after which I got up and blew out the diffuser. I dozed and awoke repeatedly as the contractions came and went. John came to bed at about midnight. What I was experiencing just was. I had no needs or expectations. It was quite lovely.
Around 1:00 am my mantra shifted. Two more hours. Two more hours. Two more hours until what, I had no idea. I got online and used the contraction timer. Seven minutes, five minutes, three minutes, five minutes. I couldn’t sit there any more. I took one of the tall candles into the bathroom and lit it. I sat on the ball, I stood, I sat on the bed, I sat on the toilet, I stood over the sink. I used the Stiffler’s Mom lid as my focal point. With each contraction I inhaled the scent of tea tree oil from a swatch of fleece I had saturated with it. I was tired. So tired. Two more hours.
At 3:00 am I got in the shower. A few moments of relief. I had already exceeded the length of my last labor. It could only go on for about two more hours, right? My legs weren’t trustworthy anymore. I was getting hungry and got myself a protein bar. I nibbled for a while, eating about half of it. Two more hours.
I drifted in and out of sleep for the next two hours. I would wake before each contraction began, as if to brace myself. I was beginning to vocalize. I woke John up around 5:00 am. I told him I couldn’t do this by myself anymore. He had the nerve to say "do what?" I called my mom shortly thereafter. I had no idea what was going on, my contractions had been five minutes apart since 1:00 am. She told me to call within the hour if I changed my mind.
I had now surpassed the duration of both my second and third labors. I made a nest on my bed. I was laboring lying down. I.was.laboring.lying.down. I was vocalizing. I was demanding counterpressure on my back. At this point, on some level, I knew that she was malpositioned. I was talking to her in my head as I stretched my legs out so that my body was straight, so that there would be less turns for her to make. I was telling her to hurry and get lined up. I could probably last about two more hours.
I called my mom again. “Go ahead and come over.” She left her house and picked my sister up from work. They arrived around 7:00 am. My sister came up to my room as I was having a contraction. She asked what she could do and I said, “Push on my back”. She did. She said she was afraid she was going to hurt me. I growled, “Push with all you’ve got.” When it was over she looked at me and asked if I was wearing makeup. I was. I always do in labor. I always want to look pretty for my babies. My mom came in and told me I looked beautiful. Like I wasn’t even in labor.
They left the room. I was lying on my left side in my nest. When the contractions came John would drive his fist into the small of my back. It was around 7:30 am. I was on the brink or surpassing my first and longest labor. By this time I knew on a more conscious level that she was in a bad position. I thought that if it stayed like this I could probably last until noon. I was tired. My vocalizations had turned to a soft grunt. “uh uh uh uh” through each contraction. I remember looking at my mom and John sitting on either side of me and wanting to tell them that they didn’t have to sit there, but I was unable to speak. I was feeling discouraged and they had taken my rule of silence too far. I needed encouragement. I was done.
I called my friend Jade at 8:30. “I can’t do this anymore.” I sobbed. “My contractions have been five minutes apart since 1:00 am.” She asked if I had been on the ball and I told her that I hated it. It hurt. She asked if I had tried any squats or pelvic rocks to help move the baby down. I told her that hurt, too. I had a few contractions on the phone with her. She gave me some encouragement about my vocalizing. She had shushed someone who arrived at her house and told them, “I’m talking someone through transitional labor.” I laughed and cried like a maniac inside my head. I threw the phone down. I wasn’t in transition! (I later found out that we had been on the phone seven minutes. During that time I had THREE contractions. My mom and John said that when they heard me tell her that they looked at each other like , WTF?)
It took everything I had, but I got up. I got into the shower again. I got out. I knew that when my water broke the baby would come. I straddled the toilet. I tried to break my own water. The pushy feeling had started. The contractions had become unbearable. I was getting very loud. Soon I was actively pushing through each contraction. I was still demanding counterpressure and John and I fell into our birth dance. He draped himself over me and pushed with all he had. Every contraction was “come on Josie, come on Josephine, just break already, oh god, please break”. I can’t register the shift in intensity now, but I know that they became more intense, as the chant became, “Oh god, oh shit, motherfucker,” and even a “Fuckin’ A Josie, COME ON!" I moved from the toilet, to the countertop, to my bedroom.
Unlike Michaela’s birth where I was completely incoherent and out of sorts through the ENTIRE thing, after each contraction I came back into myself. I had moved to the floor at the corner of my bed. I was on my knees and after a particularly horrendous contraction I looked up at Jack sitting on the side of my bed and I smiled at him and said, “I’m okay. It’s not really hurting me, it’s just really hard and a lot of work.” He smiled at me and said that he knew.
I was actively pushing- feeling inside, waiting to feel a head or ANYTHING. I could just feel my waters bulging, no head… I was briefly awed at how thick the membranes felt. Almost like an organ. I had expected to feel something when I touched it, but it was very obviously not a part of me. I continued begging my membranes to rupture. I had been actively pushing for an hour. I hadn’t done anything like that since my first birth, flat on my back. It felt crazy to be working so hard. But there was nothing I could do to stop.
My water finally burst as I roared through a contraction. In that same moment in my minds eye I saw my baby barreling through me. The next image that filled my mind was the painting, “The Scream.”
With that, at 9:28 am her head was outside of me.
I felt John doing something and asked if her cord was around her neck. He said it was and I unwrapped it. She was already crying!
She was completely born by 9:29 am.
I did not realize it until later when I saw the pictures, but I caught my own baby! It was like a dream come true. I was rubbing her back and sobbing over and over, "Oh thank you Josie, oh thank you, oh thank God!"
After he weighed her, John came into the bathroom to help me get out of the shower. He brought me fresh clothes. As he helped me into my mesh panties and 19 inch maxi pad, I reached around his shoulders and held him and kissed him. I was so grateful for this baby that he had given me... and for him and how perfectly and beautifully we do this dance together. There are no words for the hallowed ground that is walked by lovers in birth.
I went to my bed and dressed my new baby. I pulled her to me and kissed her. I whispered a thousand apologies for ever not wanting to be pregnant. I held her to my heart and sobbed with joy that she was finally in my arms, which had been ready for her all along.
Every day I thank her for choosing me.
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