William Bartholomew James
June 17, 2014
11:29 PM
6 lb, 4 oz
20" long
13.5" head
Early labor started for me at 35.5 weeks. I had gone to work for
the last time on May 28, Braxton Hicks starting to get a bit uncomfortable. The
next day, they were different. The following night, I felt the baby move down.
I had my midwife check me at our home visit and we were all surprised to
discover that I was already 2 cm dilated, effacing, and she could feel the
baby’s head! My only stress was that I wanted to reach 37 weeks (full-term) so
that I wouldn’t have to transfer to a hospital. Every day, my contractions got
stronger, I began cramping deeply, I lost my appetite, I got emotional, I slept
more. At our baby shower on June 7, I sat through the whole thing timing
irregular and very uncomfortable contractions. By the end of 36 weeks, I was
breathing through contractions and even unable to walk through some of them.
Through 37 weeks, I contracted if I moved too much, if I walked, if I lay down
on my left side, if I showered—all the things that should stop false labor. I
knew it wasn’t false. It was just a matter of time. I had other symptoms of
labor that meant our baby was close to being born. We just weren’t sure if it
would be hours, days, or weeks. At 37 weeks, we had a carpenter ant invasion
and I spent that week scrubbing with vinegar and peppermint and setting traps
until I literally had a breakdown. When I had to move all the baby furniture
and tear up our newly arranged nursery corner, I lost it. My body was
contracting so hard and emotionally I was drained. I knew I was nearing the end
of pregnancy.
June 13, I had time-able, stronger contractions to the point
that Joe stayed home a few extra hours before work to make sure I was okay.
June 14, I lost the rest of my mucus plug, but decided to
still go to Frederick with Joe where he was helping his parents move. I debated
it, wondering if it was a smart choice, but I didn’t want to be away from Joe.
All week I had wanted to stay close to home and not be left alone. That day, I
just wanted to go somewhere. I went to my friend Jen’s house to visit (one
street over from Joe), dealing with contractions and napping like nobody’s
business. (I had some awesome naps that week!)
June 15, I suddenly had no contractions; just Braxton Hicks
(tummy tightening). I didn’t know if I should enjoy the break or be mad that I
was stalling.
June 16, I woke up to time-able contractions again. My
insides were aching so badly after 3 weeks of contractions. I quit timing contractions after that. I was tired of timing irregular contractions.
Tuesday, June 17, I woke up from a decent night’s sleep. I
woke up to an earwig under my arm and I freaked out that now earwigs were taking
over our apartment instead of carpenter ants. I was contracting strongly, but I
put Diatomaceous Earth everywhere in our bedroom. And I mean everywhere. I knew
I was being the crazy pregnant lady, but I didn’t care. I wanted every crawling
thing to die! I wore myself out by 9 AM and ended up napping for 3 glorious
hours. When I woke up, I had no motivation to do much of anything. I didn’t
leave the bedroom all day. My insides were so uncomfortable. I was bored with
my computer, so I decided to teach myself to knit a baby sweater. I spent the
late afternoon and early evening studying yarn gauge, needle sizes, and finally
knitting. I decided to make a green sweater, just in case the baby was a boy,
even though we were almost completely convinced we were having a baby girl.
My body got tired of sitting on our bed all day, so I
brought my big exercise/birth ball into the bedroom and sat on that, continuing
to knit. Suddenly, right before 6 PM, I had a huge contraction. It was the same
as all the others, but oh, so very different. I jumped off the birth ball and
bent over the bed moaning. The intensity was shocking. I hit “start” on my
contraction app for the first time in almost 2 days. 19 minutes passed and I had another
one. I went to the bathroom and saw a tiny bit of red (just a dot). I called
Joe, who was on his way from work. He was on time for once (thank God!). The
next contraction was 10 minutes. Then 7. I texted our midwife Doran and told her how
intense they were and how they were quickly getting closer together. I went to
the bathroom again and there was pink. I was already quietly humming and
moaning to get through the contractions. Joe walked in as I was washing my
hands in the bathroom and I said to him as he walked by the half-closed door,
“Honey, I think this is it.” He was a bit tentative, not wanting to jump too
soon. I agreed. I had even texted Doran saying, “I’m not saying this is it…”
Joe and I sat on our bed as I went through a few more contractions, and then I
suddenly had an even stronger one. I said in the middle of it, “Call Doran.” It
was almost 7 PM. Joe had Doran on speakerphone as the contraction faded. She
sounded tentative, saying I hadn’t waited even an hour since I last texted
before calling, and she needed me to see if I had an hour of contractions 5
minutes apart. At that point, I was at 6.5 minutes apart. But I knew they were
intense. She told me she was with another lady who was 1-2 minutes apart and
that “it would be nice if you could take turns.” I thought, it figures. Two at
once! It seemed like I would be the second one to go. I obeyed her directions
to lie down and try to rest. But first, I told Joe I needed a shower. I managed
to shower with only two contractions (shaving legs is important when about to
give birth, after all!). When I did I lie down, I told Joe to go to the store
and get some food on hand for the birth team, get quarters to run laundry after
the birth, get ice, and fill the tank in case of transfer. He got as far as the
Exxon on the corner for ice and gas when he called me telling me Doran and her student midwife/Doula Jodi
were on their way to check up on me. (This was at 8:15.) He told me he was
coming straight back. I’m glad he did. Contractions were getting more intense.
Doran showed up at 9 PM. They had left the other laboring lady with another midwife just to check up on me. I walked out to the living room trying to listen to
her talk to me, but I ended up with a contraction and waddled to the table to
lean on it. She said she wanted to check me, but said I might still only be 2
or 3 cm and that I needed to sleep between contractions. Sleep?! I was
vocalizing through them already. There was no sleeping through them. I remember
thinking from that first big contraction at 6 PM that I hoped I wasn’t sissy
for making noises through contractions already. “If they feel like this now and
Doran says I could go all night and tomorrow, how am I going to handle this?!
This is what I thought the big ones would feel like!” (Thankfully, those were
the big ones leading to the HUGE ones. I was well on my way, but I didn’t have
proof yet.)
At 9 PM, Doran checked me during three contractions (Ouch!
Being on my back that long was good enough for me. I can’t believe some women
attempt birthing a baby laid back like that!). I was 6 cm and effaced!
But baby was hard to reach. Doran and Jodi decided not to leave after all but
to go get something to eat. In the meantime, I was to “go to sleep.” (Ha.) I
tried having some wine to relax, but it gave me horrible heartburn. I sipped on
a little milk, but not too much because I didn’t want to get nauseated. I don’t
think they were gone very long. But at that point, all I was focused on was the
intense feeling of a contraction rolling down my belly pushing from the top,
sharp cramps deep and low between my hips, and my hips feeling like they were pulling
apart slowly. I was a little frantic to grab Joe’s hands and squeeze very hard
at that point. He stood by me timing contractions (4 minutes apart, from what I
remember) and telling me that I was doing great. “You’re doing great” was what
he said at least 50 times. I think he was at a loss as to what to say. I knew
what he meant, though. He was there. I wasn’t alone. We would do this together.
I barely opened my eyes anymore. I barely got a break between the intensifying
contractions. I started humming and moaning louder, unable to stay quiet. My
focus was on keeping my jaw unclenched and my forehead from furrowing (signs of
tension). My main focus was keeping my voice low and not letting myself yell or
get too high-pitched (another sign of tension).
Doran and Jodi had left me and Joe to labor alone, which
felt so normal. We were in our own bedroom, I was in our bed on my left side,
he was standing beside me. He would quote some of the affirmation cards and
scriptures he knew I had wanted at the birth, which was wonderful since I was
past the point of wanting to read anything for myself. I started losing track
of time as contractions came in waves. Up until this point, contractions had
been a sharp sort of pain dead-center on my lower abdomen and out into my hips, but I didn’t feel anything down low on my cervix
like I had earlier in the week. But then I started feeling something lower. The
pain was intensifying. And yes, it was pain. Anyone who says labor isn’t
painful didn’t have my labor. There was pain, aching, pressure, pulling. I was
getting louder with my vocalization. I couldn’t help myself.
Doran walked in and said I needed to get off the bed soon to
get a pad down because my water was going to break at any time. That was the
best news I had heard all evening. At 6 cm, she had said I could continue that
way all night. My thought was desperate when I heard that, because the pain was
getting so strong already. To hear my water was going to break meant I was
moving closer to the end already! I got up to go the bathroom with Joe’s help
between contractions. I remember feeling like I needed to move quickly because
I didn’t have much time between them anymore. They were strong, and I was
getting nauseated at the peak of each one up until getting out of bed. In the
bathroom, I ended up with a MUCH stronger contraction that made me desperate
feeling. I remember having my eyes closed, sweat pouring down my face, wildly
grasping at anything hoping to find something to grip. The contraction bore
down and nausea hit so hard as I felt some water trickle out of me. I know I
gasped, “I think my water’s breaking…” and suddenly my body bore down and I
yelled, “I’m going to throw up!” I remember Joe grabbing a trash can as I dry
heaved violently in the midst of the contraction and suddenly, we heard a loud
“POP!” as my water broke in the toilet and gushed loudly. In that instant, the
big contraction I was having kicked into a HUGE contraction and I yelled. Doran
told me I needed to get off the toilet because we didn’t want the baby in the
toilet. Again, I felt a sense of relief to know that Doran thought the baby was
coming soon. I didn’t know how anyone could do that kind of work with that
strong of pain for much longer. Jodi was putting cold washcloths on my head. I
remember mumbling that I was so hot. The cold washcloths helped me focus on
something other than the pain. This was somewhere around 11 PM.
I waddled to the bedroom as quickly as I could. My thoughts
were on crossing the bit of cream carpet to the shower curtain Joe had put down
without getting anything on it. It's funny how normal thoughts popped into my head even in the midst of such overwhelming sensations! I got to the edge of the bed when the next
contraction hit, and from that moment on, my body took over. I bent over the
bed like I had for that first contraction at 6 PM, but this time, my body bore
down with a strength that shocked me. I squatted into it and screamed in a low
growl that took me by surprise. I had expected to keep my tone in a low hum, but the
sounds I was making were so huge and fierce. With every contraction, I squatted
down into them a bit more, pushing. Doran was behind me telling me to bear
down. I remember thinking that would hurt me and my body was already feeling
like it was tearing apart. If I had been alone, I wouldn’t have pushed. It felt
like too much. But she kept saying to bear down, then to “release that one” as
the contraction let up. At this point, contractions didn’t quit. I was still in
pain between them, but at least my body wasn’t bearing down. Since transition
in the bathroom, I had been shaking. My legs started giving out as I squatted
deeper, feeling something moving down through me. I knew it was our baby.
Doran told me I could get on the bed on my back, propped up,
to give myself some relief. I tried it, grabbing my legs behind my knees to
bear down. I only lasted that way for about two contractions, because the
baby’s heartbeat dropped from its normal 120 to 100. It was the only moment of
true concern in the delivery, and it didn’t last very long. I was told to get
out of the bed (the only time Doran told me what to do without asking what I
wanted). I stood by the bed again. She said to not vocalize so much and bear
down as hard as I could. I was getting three very big pushes per contraction. I
squatted as deeply as I could, allowing the contractions to get as big as they
wanted to be. I tried not to vocalize, but I could hear myself getting up into
a scream. Jodi kept reminding me to stay low. I would immediately drop my tone
and heard this unworldly growl resonating through me. My throat was going
hoarse. I remember Jodi saying, “That’s it, mama bear” as I growled the loudest
I’ve ever heard myself in my life. The baby's heartbeat immediately went back up. Pressure was off.
I was wearing out, so they suggested I get on my knees in the bed and bend over a small birth ball between contractions. I got up on the bed as quickly as I could, knowing I only had a minute to go before the next one. Joe was giving me sips of ice water. I leaned on the ball as relaxed as I could get between the bearing down. I sat up almost vertically with every painful contraction. I said, “I feel the baby. It’s so low…” feeling somewhat incoherent. I remember screaming some, desperately trying to keep my face relaxed and voice low. Doran asked if it was burning. I said yes, slightly. The next contraction, it burned so strongly! I yelled, “It burns!” and I knew our baby was crowning. Joe was exclaiming behind me, “I see hair, baby! The baby has hair like you did!” Again, I was so encouraged that it was almost over. Suddenly, in those last couple of contractions, I felt in control. Doran said to breathe through them and not push. I needed to stretch and not force it. I held back, even as my body pushed. My mental focus was thinking I needed to hold the crowning, knowing it may happen a few times before the head would be born, then I would need to birth the shoulders and then we would have our baby. Doran said to reach down and feel, so I did. I felt something bulging, but to be honest, I couldn’t get that it was a baby’s head. I had pushed the birth ball off of the bed and was on my hands and knees. I heard them say I could get on my back now if I wanted, but I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t move. I was ready for those last few contractions, ready for it to last a little while longer. But suddenly, as I breathed feeling the intensely painful burning, I heard Joe yell, “The baby’s out!” and I looked down to see our baby as a pile of slippery limbs lying on the bed between my legs and heard a huge gush of water. It was all in a split second as Doran swept the baby off the bed as quickly as it happened and handed him to me. I had a little trouble getting a grip on his slippery body. I saw between his legs and remembered to check. I exclaimed, “It’s a BOY!” and heard Joe behind me exclaim unbelievingly, “It’s a BOY?!” We had thought for sure we were having a girl, as did most everyone we know. We were shocked! I handed him right back to Doran since he had a very short umbilical cord and I couldn’t turn over in the bed while holding him. I don’t even remember lying down. All I remember is Joe putting our son on my stomach, skin-to-skin, a green towel draped over his soaking wet little body as he cried big, hearty cries. My shirt was soaked from him. I could only really see the top of his head, his dark hair matted and wet and filled with vernix. He was 38 weeks and didn’t have any vernix anywhere else on him. I remember he had some blood on his side, but that was it. He calmed down very quickly. Doran attended to me. With another contraction and an uncomfortable push, the placenta was out. The umbilical cord stopped pulsing within minutes. Joe cut it. My sister-in-law Sarah had walked in right before the placenta was out, missing the birth by mere minutes. We had texted her too late. Doran discovered that my bleeding wasn’t internal, praise God, but some major tearing. She worked on me as Jodi checked our baby boy as he lay on my now empty belly. I was wiping sweat from my face, looking at Joe’s pictures of our baby since I couldn’t see his face from my angle. He and Sarah took the baby as Doran got me cleaned up and stitched up and massaged my uterus to get it to contract and stop bleeding (some of my least favorite moments of the birth, but vital).
I was wearing out, so they suggested I get on my knees in the bed and bend over a small birth ball between contractions. I got up on the bed as quickly as I could, knowing I only had a minute to go before the next one. Joe was giving me sips of ice water. I leaned on the ball as relaxed as I could get between the bearing down. I sat up almost vertically with every painful contraction. I said, “I feel the baby. It’s so low…” feeling somewhat incoherent. I remember screaming some, desperately trying to keep my face relaxed and voice low. Doran asked if it was burning. I said yes, slightly. The next contraction, it burned so strongly! I yelled, “It burns!” and I knew our baby was crowning. Joe was exclaiming behind me, “I see hair, baby! The baby has hair like you did!” Again, I was so encouraged that it was almost over. Suddenly, in those last couple of contractions, I felt in control. Doran said to breathe through them and not push. I needed to stretch and not force it. I held back, even as my body pushed. My mental focus was thinking I needed to hold the crowning, knowing it may happen a few times before the head would be born, then I would need to birth the shoulders and then we would have our baby. Doran said to reach down and feel, so I did. I felt something bulging, but to be honest, I couldn’t get that it was a baby’s head. I had pushed the birth ball off of the bed and was on my hands and knees. I heard them say I could get on my back now if I wanted, but I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t move. I was ready for those last few contractions, ready for it to last a little while longer. But suddenly, as I breathed feeling the intensely painful burning, I heard Joe yell, “The baby’s out!” and I looked down to see our baby as a pile of slippery limbs lying on the bed between my legs and heard a huge gush of water. It was all in a split second as Doran swept the baby off the bed as quickly as it happened and handed him to me. I had a little trouble getting a grip on his slippery body. I saw between his legs and remembered to check. I exclaimed, “It’s a BOY!” and heard Joe behind me exclaim unbelievingly, “It’s a BOY?!” We had thought for sure we were having a girl, as did most everyone we know. We were shocked! I handed him right back to Doran since he had a very short umbilical cord and I couldn’t turn over in the bed while holding him. I don’t even remember lying down. All I remember is Joe putting our son on my stomach, skin-to-skin, a green towel draped over his soaking wet little body as he cried big, hearty cries. My shirt was soaked from him. I could only really see the top of his head, his dark hair matted and wet and filled with vernix. He was 38 weeks and didn’t have any vernix anywhere else on him. I remember he had some blood on his side, but that was it. He calmed down very quickly. Doran attended to me. With another contraction and an uncomfortable push, the placenta was out. The umbilical cord stopped pulsing within minutes. Joe cut it. My sister-in-law Sarah had walked in right before the placenta was out, missing the birth by mere minutes. We had texted her too late. Doran discovered that my bleeding wasn’t internal, praise God, but some major tearing. She worked on me as Jodi checked our baby boy as he lay on my now empty belly. I was wiping sweat from my face, looking at Joe’s pictures of our baby since I couldn’t see his face from my angle. He and Sarah took the baby as Doran got me cleaned up and stitched up and massaged my uterus to get it to contract and stop bleeding (some of my least favorite moments of the birth, but vital).
As Jodi had been measuring Tolly, I looked at the clock and realized it was only
midnight. I had been thinking early in labor, “This baby will be a June 18th
baby, I suppose.” I asked when he was born and Jodi said it was at 11:29 PM. I
couldn’t believe it! A June 17th baby. I calculated the times and
realized my labor had only been 5.5 hours! Doran and Jodi kept saying I had
rocked the birth, how our baby just really wanted in the world, and how amazing
the birth was for a first-time mother. All I could think of was how thankful I
was that it wasn’t any longer. Perhaps it was God’s grace, but I don’t know if
I could have handled it much longer or any stalling. It was perfect. My brain
was still in shock from the pain, but I was so happy. I had done it! I had
given birth naturally, I had an incredibly short labor, I hadn’t felt scared, and
our baby was healthy and beautiful. As overwhelming as the experience was, I
never felt the feeling that there was something wrong. I was overcome with the
intensity, shocked at my body’s ability to take over like it did. If someone
ever says that labor isn’t painful again, that’s just not true (in my
experience). It was every bit as painful and overcoming as I had imagined and somehow beyond anything I could have imagined. My brain has already
forgotten the sensation to some extent only two weeks later, and yet, as I
stood beside the bed holding my baby as they changed the sheets, I remember
thinking, “There is no way on earth I’m forgetting that. And there’s no way I
want to do that again any time soon. I can’t think about that.” I did not enjoy
labor. But I did the work I needed to do and I’m really proud that I did it.
With three weeks of pre and early labor and 5.5 hours of active labor, my body
did it. Mentally, I endured it. Emotionally, I kept steady. The most “out of
control” I felt was transition, in the bathroom, wildly reaching for anyone or
anything to grip onto as I yelled, contracting, dry-heaving AND water breaking
and bearing down at once (just typing that makes me cringe!). I let my body
push, I bore down as hard as I could, I squatted as deeply as I could. I knew
that if I gave in, I would be done so much sooner. If I clenched and fought it,
I would get stuck in that cycle of overwhelming pain.
During labor and after, my midwife and her assistant kept
telling me I was “rocking it,” and I didn’t think they were just being nice. I
felt like I was doing it right. I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t have time to
overthink it. I think that was God’s grace on me too. I get in my head so much
on a daily basis, but my labor was so intense and fast, I had to give into that
“primal instinct” and just do it. I didn’t have an option.
Afterward, my favorite moments were holding our son and nursing him for the first time, seeing the utter joy on my husband’s face as he fell in love with his son. Joe said he wanted to go for a run, he had so much adrenaline (but of course, he didn’t leave me). We tried to sleep, but we were awake until 5 AM basking in the joy of holding our baby, in total awe. It was as precious a time as our first day married (could that only have been last autumn?). There I was with both of my boys. It was beautiful.
Afterward, my favorite moments were holding our son and nursing him for the first time, seeing the utter joy on my husband’s face as he fell in love with his son. Joe said he wanted to go for a run, he had so much adrenaline (but of course, he didn’t leave me). We tried to sleep, but we were awake until 5 AM basking in the joy of holding our baby, in total awe. It was as precious a time as our first day married (could that only have been last autumn?). There I was with both of my boys. It was beautiful.
(I will note, as awesome as my birth was, I feel like I
“paid for it” afterward during recovery. Due to the intensity and speed, plus
it being my first birth, I did tear considerably and did not heal properly at
first. I was in horrible pain. It was worse than labor and delivery to deal
with, and scary, because unlike labor, this wasn’t normal or supposed to
happen quite like that. Tearing happens, yes. Healing is always needed, yes. But excruciating
pain—being unable to lie on my side for almost a week, half sitting/half
reclining uncomfortably in bed for days on end, unable to get in and out of bed
without my husband lifting me, unable to shower or go to the bathroom by
myself, taking 20-30 minutes just to go to the bathroom because of the pain,
shuffling with my knees together when I did move, cringing to think of sitting
down, staring at the couch and feeling like it was the most daunting thing in
the world, scared that I wouldn’t heal properly, seeing concern on my midwife’s
face, bawling my eyes out like an inconsolable toddler for two days. . . I was
not prepared for those things. But all is well now as I've improved immensely, thanks to instructions from my midwife and a lot of prayer from everyone around me.)
This stuff isn’t for the faint of heart. Perhaps a quick
delivery meant a painful recovery. Perhaps it has just been coincidence. But
the weeks of recovery have been a fog. I had a hard time thinking over the
birth and even had days of simply surviving that I didn’t even truly enjoy my
new baby. But as I’ve rounded the corner, my body healing—changed forever by
this experience, I’m reflecting on the birth of our Bartholomew and feel such
accomplishment. I would not trade my baby boy for anything. I am so glad I did
not know what I was in for, but to think of my world without him now is
impossible. It’s hard to imagine being pregnant even though I was expecting for so long; impossible to imagine what
life was before. It’s as if he has always been here; my heart saying, “Of
course, this is how it was meant to be all along. I see that now.” There will
never be a moment in my life, Lord-willing, where there is no Tolly. Just as
much as my body carries scars and changes forever, my heart is marked. I love
my son. I love my husband. I love our family.
