(Don't Worry - No explicit pictures)
Early Labor: Peaceful at Home
Lindsay had what I would call a "grumpy" evening on Thursday night. I couldn't tell what was wrong. It was
as if someone had stuffed a 7 pound baby up her butt. All day long, to lift her own spirits, she would recite encouraging affirmations. “I am
birthing this baby. I am in labor right
now.”
So when 6 am Friday morning
arrived, and my sweet wife cuddled up to me in bed and whispered “I’m in
labor”, I said “You are” and fell back into a coma. I was too tired to follow up with her or
clarify. It was 6 am! After about 3 minutes, she
started “ohming” and moaning through another rush. When she was done, I squeezed her so tight
with excitement. Batman's tights! She really WAS in
labor! This got my attention. I showered, ate breakfast and got ready for
the day – the day I would meet my kid!
Lindsay was fine on her own in the early going. She told me the rushes started around
12:30am and I was thankful she had let me sleep so long. But even early in my morning-around 7am or
so-she could no longer speak through the rushes; they were intense enough
to require her full focus. We went to the yellow room and tried out some different
positions to give her more comfort.
In contraction-practice (which has been going on since October-I've been training for months!), Lindsay had me recite
different relaxation mantras. I would
place her in a scenario where she’s at the beach, laying on the sand, the warm
sun on her skin, etc. Or, I’d say things
like “you are getting so big. Your
cervix is melting around our baby's head.
You’re doing a great job.” But by
the time she needed me, Lindsay was moaning loudly during her exhales, so she
couldn’t hear a word I was saying. So I
had to shorten my support to one-word phrases that I would say when she
inhaled. Words like “happiness”,
“peace”, and “success”.
Lindsay called Julia and had her
come over around 10:30am. Lindsay was
still "normal" in-between contractions, seemingly fine and able to talk with both
of us in a casual way. Her contractions
were about 50 seconds long and 7 to 10 minutes apart. Julia and I would recite one-word
affirmations and take turns throwing the nuggle-buddy (a rice bag for warmth) in the microwave for her
lower back.
By noon, the contractions were
coming faster. She’d have stronger ones mixed with lighter ones, the latter coming when she’d change position or stand up to
go to the bathroom. By 2:30pm she was
becoming more frightened. I came into
the bathroom and found Julia holding her, crying. Lindsay was crying, not Julia. Just in case you got confused there. Lindsay was the one crying. She said to us "I don’t think I
can do this”. Lindsay asked me if it would be okay if she got an epidural. I told her of course it was... and I wasn’t just saying that, I really meant
it. Even though I was going to be an
advocate for natural birth, as sperm donor there was only so much I could do for her. She was
traveling this road alone, and I had no judgement towards what she was going
through. All I wanted was a healthy mom and a
healthy child. I didn’t care at all how
we got there.
At this point, Julia felt it was time
to go the hospital. It took a while to get out of the driveway, because once we
packed Lindsay into the back of the Prius she had to go to the bathroom. So I gingerly brought her back in to go potty. I'll be using words like potty, because I'm a dad now. I'm a dad now! Anyway, she was so glad she spoke up and went to the bathroom. The
ride to hospital was easy. Her mood had
changed a bit - she was more calm, and I think the “graduation” of taking that
next step of going to St. Anthony’s was good for her.
This whole time, I was focused on
Lindsay. I wanted to do all I could to
serve her. That’s all I cared
about.
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Active, Hard Labor: Oh man!
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We got to the hospital, and I did
what I had learned in class. I went to
the desk and said very calmly, “We’re in labor”. A nurse asked what time the contractions
started, but then looked at Lindsay who looked less than fresh and said, “Oh, she’s definitely in labor.” I spoke to
another nurse, saying “we plan on having a natural birth, so if we could have
a room far from the desk, we’d appreciate it.
Also, we’ll need a birth ball.”
She was slightly taken aback and said “My, aren’t we demanding!” and
sort of laughed. It was at that point I
brought out the bag of treats Lindsay had packed for all of the nurses and replied “See, there’s something in it for you.”
This whole time Lindsay was going through a contraction and being
supported by Julia.
We got to our room (#8, far away from the front desk) and set up camp. The nurses came in and asked us and Lindsay a bunch of questions. Lindsay was a pro. She was doing fine until two events almost derailed us off course. First, the doctor had to see where Lindsay was at. My wife hates cervical exams, but we were hopeful this would be the only one done – at check-in. Lindsay was 6 cm dilated, 100% effaced! What a rock star! And she and the goddesses of nature did it all themselves!
Shortly after that, before my sweet
wife had a chance to recover from the cervical exam, the nurse put the Heplock
in. Aside from having her cervix messed
with, my wife also hates having needles or catheters in her arm. I’ve seen her pass out and pee herself when
she gets blood drawn, so I wasn’t looking forward to this. Doctors want the Heplock in there, in the rare case
of hemorrhaging after birth , or if she would require an epidural. Apparently they are harder to get into the arm during an emergency, so it’s a precautionary thing.
Lindsay went through 3 contractions
with it in her arm. She was not relaxed;
she was tense, and frightened. She said
“I can feel it, I can feel it and I know it’s in there. I hate it.” She also said the F word. We told the nurse we wanted it out, but the nurse told us the doctor was
on his way and he wanted us to wait until he got there. Once he arrived, he tried everything he could
to talk Lindsay into keeping it in.
“It’s not a needle” he’d say.
Lindsay was having a hard time expressing herself, due to the stress of
the situation and – oh, yeah – the fact she was is labor.
Finally I spoke up. “I don’t mean
to talk for you sweetie, but I know my wife, and this is not a physical thing. The Heplock is in her mind - she knows it's in there and she can’t
avoid it. She can’t relax. If it stays
in, she’s going to need an epidural.”
After about 5 minutes of back and forth, that’s what it came down
to. Lindsay said “Either it comes out
now and we go back to doing it natural, or I get an epidural.” I’m very thankful Dr. Gossar was supportive
of natural birth, and took out the evil Heplock.
I imagine a lot of doctors might have said, “Alright, you’ve made your
choice – an epidural it is.”
Once that was out of her arm, she
was back in force. She thought some warm
water on her body might be nice, so she got in the shower. The shower head didn’t stay where she wanted
it so I had to hold it. Also, the water
didn’t feel good, it felt "stingy" to her skin. “This isn’t working” she said and on her way out, sat down on the toilet because she felt some pressure. It was as if she had crapped Niagara
Falls. “That’s not my butt” she said. Her water had broken!
Final Push! Here She Is!
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We moved Lindsay gingerly back to the bed, where she stayed until the baby arrived. Time is relative, but I would say she squatted, got on all fours, laid back and writhed for 45 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. I really have no clue; I wasn’t looking at the clock, I was focused on Lindsay.
After the water broke, she was no longer “ohming” and moaning in a relaxed, Buddhist way. Her exhales had become much tighter and higher pitched, with subtle vibrations. It was as if someone was electrifying her to death from the inside. I don’t know how she persevered. At times, I’d be holding her hand, then Julia would, then Megan (Lindsay would later say she loved having her big sister Megan close by because she felt like a motherly presence to her). One of us would grab a towel, place it under warm water and put on the back of Lindsay’s neck or on her forehead. At one point it seemed everyone was in there with us; Dr. Gossar, a nurse, Julia, Megan and myself. Everyone wore real serious looks on their faces, which were all pointed at Lindsay. No one said a word. When Lindsay wasn’t yelping or writhing in pain, the room was eerily quiet.
I realized how important and interesting that moment was: here was the woman I love in complete and utter agony; here we are in a hospital and all anybody could do - and all we wanted anybody to do - was watch her go through it. I felt utterly useless and powerless, but at the same time I also felt Lindsay’s power and the power of the cosmos; nature's power. This is how mammals have been birthing for more years than we can comprehend. I felt the weight of what was happening and was honored to be in that room.
Finally, Lindsay said she had to push. The Dr. said “go for it”. Julia suggested Lindsay try squatting on the bed and they attached a metal "squat bar" at the end of the bed so she could lean and pull on it while she squatted. (What cool stuff they have in hospitals now!) Between pushes she’d rest back. After about 30 minutes of pushing the Dr. said “come here Jeremy… see that?” He reached about a half inch into my wife. “That’s the baby’s head.” I saw the gray little head, the skull bones folding over so my kid could make his or her escape and the tiny hairs on his or her scalp. “Oh my God! Sweetie, I can see the head! You are doing so great!”
The rest is a blur. I believe Lindsay was encouraged by the news that I could see the head. It was a light at the end of this tunnel. She started pushing with all her might. She was no longer yelping; she was grunting, making sounds I’ve never heard from my little princess. She was moving a mountain. I was in awe of her strength and power, and a tad intimidated. I wanted to be close to her to support her, but she was a beastly lioness and I was slightly afraid that if I got too close, I might have my face bitten off.
The baby came shortly after that, and took Dr. Gossar by surprise. “Wow, I better get my gloves on!” He did, and started tugging on our baby’s head (what he could get his hands on) to help Lindsay. Everyone was cheering her on, telling her to push. “You got it baby! You got it!” I said. Within seconds the baby was out. I was in love immediately and consoled my wife, who was still in mountain-moving mode. The Dr. said “Okay Jeremy, tell everyone what it is!” I stared at my child’s genitals for a good 3 seconds in silence because I was in shock and we were expecting a boy (only because we had both had dreams it was going to be a boy). When my brain kicked in to let me know that it was a vagina before me, I said “WE HAVE A BABY GIRL! OH MY GOD!” and started crying and hugging Lindsay. I was so humbled by what had just happened. I was a mess.
We were told one of the perks of natural birth is that the mother is not drugged and therefore full of lovey-dovey’s when the baby arrives. This creates a mother-child bonding moment that we had seen and been sold on in numerous birthing videos. This didn’t happen for Lindsay. She was in work mode. “Lindsay, we’re going to birth the placenta, okay?” Lindsay looked at me, grunted like she had to fart and there it was. She was so in the zone that I considered asking her to poop out a VW Bus (I’ve always wanted one of those), but in a way, she already had. No worries though, I was the one who had the mother-child bonding moment. And Lindsay would have hers after a good night’s sleep.
3 cheers for the strongest, most beautiful woman alive, my wife - whom, despite western medicine's best efforts to throw her off course, was still able to have a completely natural birth; who slayed the evil dragon Heplock; who crushed the marching army's of Epidural... I'm a proud co-"coach" along with Julia, sister Meg and Dr. G. and I have new appreciation for the ridiculous, other-worldly strength of women and mothers.
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