In birth centres with midwives, the chances were almost 1 in 3 for having major abdominal surgery and 80% for having a medicated birth! My attitude has always been that birth is a natural process for which there can be complications. Joe added that mothers are naturally stretchy.
I remembered a stray cat having kittens in the sawdust of my dad’s table saw when I was 12. My dad wanted to use his saw, so we quickly set up a new place and moved the cat. She hated it. She moved the kittens she had delivered back into the saw, one by one. I remember supporting a tiny kitten dangling from its umbilical cord while the mother jumped into the hopper carrying another kitten.
The experience wasn’t too traumatic for an insensitive 12-year-old, but when I thought back on the story as a pregnant adult, I thought, “Gosh, I’m going to be just like that cat. I am going to HATE moving to the hospital during labour.” I opted for a home birth. Joe likes to remind me that if I truly believed that I shouldn’t move after I went into labour, then technically I should have had the baby at the corner grocery store.
I talked to almost everyone in my family and found out people were about two weeks late and had 24 to 36 hours of labour. Yikes. Scary genetics. Then I spoke to one more “rogue” aunt. “I delivered my first baby in three hours. And she was breach. My second baby came in two hours.” I could only wish.
My due date was July 10. I figured I probably had an extra couple of weeks. I was 1 cm dilated and had been having practice contractions for a couple of weeks. (Why are they called Braxton Hicks? They are named after some guy who “discovered them”? Haven’t women been having them for thousands of years?) On July 4, the practice contractions didn’t go away when I napped in the afternoon. Hmmm. Interesting.
By 5:00 p.m. we went out for coffee, to the post office, last minute shopping at the corner grocery store, and made BBQ dinner for Joe’s dad and cousin. I still hoped my body was just practicing. Joe just smiled. By 6:00 p.m. I felt like I was going to get my period. Hmmm. I wasn’t ready, so I cleaned the bathroom and jacuzzi tub, swept the floor, BBQed, prepared the labour room and made up the beds for guests, etc. Joe vacuumed. You get the idea.
By 8:30 I felt like settling into labour. Contractions still just felt like extremely heavy period cramps. We let the neighbours’ dog in because they were out and the dog was frightened of the fireworks. We’ve nicknamed her “The Doula” because she licked my face through most of my contractions.
At 2 cm, I was progressing slowly. We called the midwife who lived two hours away and told her to take her time. We had 24 to 36 hours, right? We forgot the part about cleaning, shopping, BBQing and otherwise “distracting” from the real business of labour. I was now ready to “focus in the boat” and “get ’er done.”
The midwife had recommended that I include as few people as possible for the birth. I think that cat I moved would have preferred to be alone, too. We called Joe’s mom in Helena at 9:00 p.m. to see if she could come instead of my mom (who was a 10 hour drive away behind a closed border crossing). The story we heard later was that Joe’s mom was packed and in her car in 10 minutes.
Meanwhile I tried a bunch of positions and found the least uncomfortable one (standing). We laughed and joked and Joe video-taped. I tried to get in my big jetted soaker tub, but I just felt claustrophobic lying down. Luckily, Joe pushing on my back relieved most of the intensity.
At 23:45 my water broke. Joe took a look and saw the classic bulge of the baby’s head. “I think I’d better check you,” he said. “Yup, you can start pushing any time.” “Good,” I replied. “I’ve felt ‘pushy’ for over an hour now!”
Joe’s mom arrived and he handed her the video camera. The midwife arrived a few minutes later surprised at how quickly I’d gone. “Is that crowning?” she asked. I remember laughing inside as I thought to myself, “Don’t you know?” Joe and I delivered/birthed William at 1:08 a.m. and then Joe passed the remaining work on to my most excellent midwife while he got on the phone to play New Pappa.
Our favourite part of the birth video (besides the dogs running in and out of it) is me sitting on the floor with William as Joe hands me the phone. “Hello? Who is this? Oh, hi [mom, dad -- insert relative here]. Yup. A little boy. He was just born. No. No. We are still waiting for the placenta to be delivered...” To this day Joe asks himself, “What was I thinking making you talk on the phone?”
Actually, doing the home birth thing was rock star. I didn’t miss a meal, or a snack, or any water and fluids, or much sleep and I still wanted to go out for breakfast the next morning. That energy didn’t last long, though. About three days later my emotions came in with my milk and I cried around for two days. Sheesh. William was an easy baby to deliver and he has been easy ever since. Knock on wood.
▲William Robert Wallace Gray on His Birth Day
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