Here is the 2nd birth story in our collection, submitted by the wonderfully beautiful Erin, of happiness.is.real.when.shared. Erin and I went to high school together and thanks to Facebook, we were reconnected. It was here that we realized we had so much in common, and an amazing friendship has been reformed from 2500 miles away.
Click here to read Noah's birth, the first birth story in our collection.
Click here to read Noah's birth, the first birth story in our collection.
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| Erin & Wyeth |
I found out I was pregnant on October 7th, much to my surprise. I never expected to be pregnant after a prior, obviously incorrect, diagnosis by an insensitive gynecologist. So when the pregnancy test came back positive, I wasn't sure how to react. I took a hot shower, cried tears of shock and joy, woke up my husband, and shared the news. Life became strangely dreamlike: nothing seems very real, everything seemed very good.
I obediently went to my gynecologist who confirmed my pregnancy and gave me the estimated due date of June 14th. But according to my calendar, I thought my due date should be June 8th. So despite the sonogram, I stuck with June 8th. :)
After months of impersonal treatment, I made the best decision of my pregnancy: to switch to a midwife. I originally planned on having an epidural and "not being a hero" in the delivery room. But as my pregnancy progressed and birth drew near, I was flooded with terrible stories of medicated births gone wrong. From c-sections to discomfort to scarring to forceps, I started reading and reaching out. Jen was a major source of comfort and knowledge.
On May 30th, weeks before either due date, I woke up at 3:00am. I felt a great deal of cramping. Again, I woke up my husband and told him the news: "I'm pretty sure I'm in labor". He encouraged me to try and get some sleep for the big event ahead of us. I tried, but it was like sleeping on Christmas Eve. My body radiated with excitement. I managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking to start what would be the most amazing day of my life.
John and I woke up and got ready for church. We met John's parents there, at the church in which we were married a year before. The priest talked about the holy trinity and I knew I was in labor. The cramping became stronger and more frequent. I was nervous, excited, and somehow completely calm.
From church we went home and I gardened through the contractions. We planted some scarlet begonias and a rose bush by the mailbox. I don't think anyone truly believed I was in labor. After spending some time at home with my husband, in-laws, Wyeth's future godparents, and our garden, we headed over to my father's house for a Memorial Day BBQ. The contractions were fairly strong and regular. I decided to go for a swim. I spent quite a while in the pool, with the water easing the discomfort of the contractions. I borrowed John's watch and timed them. 8 minutes apart.
I got out of the pool, ate some fruit and some snacks, drank a lot of water, and let nature take its course. Everyone around me seemed equal parts nervous and excited. Eventually the contractions started getting stronger and closer. I stayed in the company of my family and friends but would close my eyes during the waves of discomfort. I would breath deeply and remind myself that the contraction would be over shortly and I would feel normal again. All day I kept saying, "I can't believe that this is what labor is like. I can't believe this is happening. This isn't at all what I expected."
Around 9PM, the contractions became too uncomfortable for me to stay around company. I went home with John and my friend Sania where I took a hot shower. The warmth and the water eased the discomfort. I sat on the birthing ball and asked my companions to rub my back. Eventually, I knew it was time to head to the hospital.
John drove ever so slowly there. He says now he didn't want to make things tense, but the anticipation was driving me crazy! We finally got to the hospital where the admissions nurse told me that I didn't look like I was in much pain, so I probably wasn't progressed enough to be checked in. I was extremely disappointed. When the midwife came in to check, I was 7 centimeters dialated! The nurse was wrong and into the delivery room I went.
At this point, the discomfort wasn't as manageable, but it still wasn't nearly as painful as I had expected. I sat on the birthing ball, I walked around the room, and I took a hot shower. At one point while John was massaging my lower back, my water broke! I knew I would meet my son soon.
The midwife checked my progress and told me I was 9.5 centimeters, almost ready to go. She told me that I would feel an overwhelming urge to push. I asked her if I would be sure. She laughed and said, "Trust me, honey, you'll know." About 5 minutes later, I KNEW. Everything in my being told me to push with all my might. The nurse, the midwife, and John got into position, and it began.
I thought it would be the most horrific experience of my life. So wrong. The pushing felt like a relief. I was uncomfortable when the contraction would start, then I started pushing and I felt invigorated. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed. And after about an hour, I was exhausted. I told the midwife that I couldn't do it anymore. I looked at John begging for help with my eyes. They encouraged me and let me feel Wyeth's head. I knew it was close. I pushed and pushed and pushed some more. I let out some honest-to-goodness primal grunts and yells. And in between contractions and pushing, I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. And God delivered.
In the spirit of honesty, there was a time where I was in GREAT pain. And this is the only time I'm using pain. Mid-push, the midwife asked me to stop. She said it would feel counterintuitive and it would be hard, but in order to avoid a tear, I needed to go slow and give my body time to stretch. Well, mygahhh, that hurt. But the next contraction came along, I pushed, and out slid my beautiful, blue baby boy.
The placed him on my chest and told me to rub him. I cried and looked at my husband who was crying, too. And everything prior to that moment was erased. I, too, was born that day as a mother, in a new, more spectacular life.
I obediently went to my gynecologist who confirmed my pregnancy and gave me the estimated due date of June 14th. But according to my calendar, I thought my due date should be June 8th. So despite the sonogram, I stuck with June 8th. :)
After months of impersonal treatment, I made the best decision of my pregnancy: to switch to a midwife. I originally planned on having an epidural and "not being a hero" in the delivery room. But as my pregnancy progressed and birth drew near, I was flooded with terrible stories of medicated births gone wrong. From c-sections to discomfort to scarring to forceps, I started reading and reaching out. Jen was a major source of comfort and knowledge.
On May 30th, weeks before either due date, I woke up at 3:00am. I felt a great deal of cramping. Again, I woke up my husband and told him the news: "I'm pretty sure I'm in labor". He encouraged me to try and get some sleep for the big event ahead of us. I tried, but it was like sleeping on Christmas Eve. My body radiated with excitement. I managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking to start what would be the most amazing day of my life.
John and I woke up and got ready for church. We met John's parents there, at the church in which we were married a year before. The priest talked about the holy trinity and I knew I was in labor. The cramping became stronger and more frequent. I was nervous, excited, and somehow completely calm.
From church we went home and I gardened through the contractions. We planted some scarlet begonias and a rose bush by the mailbox. I don't think anyone truly believed I was in labor. After spending some time at home with my husband, in-laws, Wyeth's future godparents, and our garden, we headed over to my father's house for a Memorial Day BBQ. The contractions were fairly strong and regular. I decided to go for a swim. I spent quite a while in the pool, with the water easing the discomfort of the contractions. I borrowed John's watch and timed them. 8 minutes apart.
I got out of the pool, ate some fruit and some snacks, drank a lot of water, and let nature take its course. Everyone around me seemed equal parts nervous and excited. Eventually the contractions started getting stronger and closer. I stayed in the company of my family and friends but would close my eyes during the waves of discomfort. I would breath deeply and remind myself that the contraction would be over shortly and I would feel normal again. All day I kept saying, "I can't believe that this is what labor is like. I can't believe this is happening. This isn't at all what I expected."
Around 9PM, the contractions became too uncomfortable for me to stay around company. I went home with John and my friend Sania where I took a hot shower. The warmth and the water eased the discomfort. I sat on the birthing ball and asked my companions to rub my back. Eventually, I knew it was time to head to the hospital.
John drove ever so slowly there. He says now he didn't want to make things tense, but the anticipation was driving me crazy! We finally got to the hospital where the admissions nurse told me that I didn't look like I was in much pain, so I probably wasn't progressed enough to be checked in. I was extremely disappointed. When the midwife came in to check, I was 7 centimeters dialated! The nurse was wrong and into the delivery room I went.
At this point, the discomfort wasn't as manageable, but it still wasn't nearly as painful as I had expected. I sat on the birthing ball, I walked around the room, and I took a hot shower. At one point while John was massaging my lower back, my water broke! I knew I would meet my son soon.
The midwife checked my progress and told me I was 9.5 centimeters, almost ready to go. She told me that I would feel an overwhelming urge to push. I asked her if I would be sure. She laughed and said, "Trust me, honey, you'll know." About 5 minutes later, I KNEW. Everything in my being told me to push with all my might. The nurse, the midwife, and John got into position, and it began.
I thought it would be the most horrific experience of my life. So wrong. The pushing felt like a relief. I was uncomfortable when the contraction would start, then I started pushing and I felt invigorated. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed. And after about an hour, I was exhausted. I told the midwife that I couldn't do it anymore. I looked at John begging for help with my eyes. They encouraged me and let me feel Wyeth's head. I knew it was close. I pushed and pushed and pushed some more. I let out some honest-to-goodness primal grunts and yells. And in between contractions and pushing, I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. And God delivered.
In the spirit of honesty, there was a time where I was in GREAT pain. And this is the only time I'm using pain. Mid-push, the midwife asked me to stop. She said it would feel counterintuitive and it would be hard, but in order to avoid a tear, I needed to go slow and give my body time to stretch. Well, mygahhh, that hurt. But the next contraction came along, I pushed, and out slid my beautiful, blue baby boy.
The placed him on my chest and told me to rub him. I cried and looked at my husband who was crying, too. And everything prior to that moment was erased. I, too, was born that day as a mother, in a new, more spectacular life.
