Our little potato–that’s what my husband called him after holding him because he had his little legs tucked up under him and his arms pulled close–was born a little over three weeks ago. He was one day earlier than the set date the midwife gave, the earliest was July 20th and he came July 19th. It actually ended up being an interesting story, my mom’s coworkers say she should pitch the story to Reader’s Digest or some other place.
The cramps started the night before. They were very mild, mostly uncomfortable. I stayed up to wait for my husband to call, he was out of town, and around ten he did. I debated whether or not to mention I was having cramps. They weren’t painful, I wasn’t sure I was in labor and I didn’t want to make him drive over two hours for a false alarm. I said nothing. Throughout the night I got up at least three times to use the restroom and the cramping continued, progressively worsening. My dreams even started incorporating the cramps. Every time I got up I wondered if I should call the midwife, my mom or my husband. I even reread the chapter on labor in my Mama Natural book–maybe there’d be a sentence saying, “Yes! You ARE in labor.” Of course, there wasn’t and on my last bathroom run, I took some cheese crackers back upstairs with me. I ate them until I lost one then decided I didn’t need anymore. Minutes after I closed up the box an excruciating pain hit me in my uterus–my mom said most likely my water broke at the same time that I had a contraction, it’s like having a balloon burst inside your body. I could barely even groan in pain. The second it passed I made a beeline for the trash can. Unlike in the shows and movies I’ve watched, there was barely any water from my water breaking.
The next thirty or so minutes are a bit of a blur, but I immediately went downstairs when I finished. Although I don’t remember the pain, the contractions were pretty intense. I called my mom first and though I could barely talk, I got out enough to let her know what was going on. Thankfully my family only lives about ten minutes from us. The first thing she asked upon arrival was if I’d called the midwife. No. The only thing I’d been able to do between contractions was get on my nightgown, which was more imperative to me in that moment because I had nothing on under my robe. My midwife was supposed to be out on vacation, so my mom had to figure out if the stand-in midwife was handling the births (she wasn’t) or if it was my midwife. The whole time she was on the phone I was in the bathroom on the toilet, and I honestly don’t know why. Maybe because of the handrail I had to grip the whole time? Since the first intense contraction I wasn’t getting much of a break between contractions–they were definitely minutes apart. Even with the intensity of these contractions I believed that they would only get worse. They never did. Once we knew where we were going, to my midwife’s birthing house, we grabbed what we needed and made our way to the front door. I wanted to tell her I didn’t think I’d make it, but I couldn’t get the words out. Apparently, she didn’t think I’d make it either because she grabbed a towel just in case.
We were maybe two feet from the front door when I leaned forward and clutched the cat tower that’s beside the door. I think my mom asked me if I needed to push . . . she sounded kind of far away. I might have said yes, it didn’t really matter, my body’s instincts took over and it did what it’s designed to do. I dropped down to my hands and knees right there. I praise the Almighty my mom was there because the little guy would’ve dropped to the floor otherwise! I couldn’t focus on what I needed to do and catching the baby. My birth wasn’t at all like the dramatic movie births. I didn’t scream or cry, after the first push I merely moaned an ‘ouch.’ To me it felt like his head had come out but my mom said she didn’t see his head. On the second push he slid out nice and smooth. I’d say the worst part was my water breaking and the midwife getting the placenta out, otherwise I think I was blessed because I would rate the contractions and actual birth at only a level seven or eight pain.
I was really disappointed that my husband wasn’t there for the birth but at the same time I was so proud of my mom! In the beginning when I was having trouble finding a midwife, I asked her if she could do the delivery because she had had three children at home. Her answer was an instant no because there are so many things that can go wrong and yet she did it! It was certainly special.
This whole pregnancy has been interesting because I’ve been right about everything. I know there’s a fifty-fifty chance, but I was right about it being a boy, that my water would break in bed, his birth would be late at night/into the early morning hours (he was born at 4:45 a.m.), and–I was a day off–that he’d be born that weekend. I wouldn’t mind having another child and I’d certainly make sure my husband was home for the next one. Now that I know what it’s like, I certainly won’t doubt myself and will speak up sooner!
Mikaela Nicole 
You must be logged in to post a comment.