If there's a baby, you can assume that in most cases there was a labor, and at the very least a delivery. In my case, there was both. It was nothing like what I expected, no resemblance to anything I'd imagined, and that didn't turn out to be a bad thing...in retrospect.
Labor proper kicked in at about 1:00am Tuesday morning. I'd been lying awake since before 12:00, wondering if what I was occasionally feeling could indeed be labor, but wasn't convinced. For the past two days I'd had very subtle signs that labor could be imminent, but at that point nothing definitive had happened.
Sometime between 12 and 1, my water must have "broken." I say "broken" because "leaked" is the better word. There wasn't a dramatic rush, and I didn't know it had happened until I got up to go the bathroom and was damp. I deliberated for a while, trying to figure out if I was crazy or if this was the real thing. To be on the safe side I texted our midwife, hoping to give her a head's up and maybe get some instructions for what to do next. She didn't respond and we learned later that her phone was on silent. (Ultimately, one of the other midwives we contacted was able to reach her via her husband's phone).
By 1:00 I was having mild but regular contractions. I told Todd who decided he'd go ahead and get up with me. Sweet guy :) We packed the rest of the things we were told to bring with us to the hospital, and I paused every few minutes for contractions. After we finished our packing, Todd started timing the contractions and we were really surprised to find that they were coming every 2-3 minutes. Todd said afterwards that he was sure we must have been doing something wrong. How on earth were the contractions that close together when labor had only just started?
My midwife never got back to us, so after we timed the contractions for a while we tried calling two others. We finally reached the third midwife on the list who, after asking how far apart the contractions were, advised that I take a bath and then a nap as I would need the rest for the remainder of the labor. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to take a nap with contractions hitting every couple of minutes and lasting for 20-40 seconds, but maybe the bath would really just kill them. To be honest I was disappointed that the midwife was trying to slow the contractions down. I was excited to finally be feeling them and was eager for things to keep going.
Let me pause here for a moment to tell you something about South Africa. In order to have hot water ready to use, you need to turn on the water heater or "geyser" for an hour or so in advance. We hadn't had ours on all day. Todd turned it on but in the end had to fill the bath almost entirely by boiling water in the electric kettle and pouring it in. "This would be going a lot faster if we had a smaller tub," he said at one point.
During the hour+ it took to fill our giant bath tub the contractions started to get quite intense. I took most of them by myself in the guest bedroom, rocking on the edge of the bed while I listened to Todd fill the tub. I would breath and clench and unclench my hands until they passed. And I must say, they did pass. I was very blessed to have a break between nearly every contraction. My heart goes out to women who experience piggy-back contractions and back labor. I don't know how they manage.
By the time the tub was filled I was hoping it would offer a little relief. I eased in and relaxed in the warm water between the intense contractions. The midwife advised soaking for 45 minutes, and they passed quickly. I started to notice a slight change towards the end of my time in the tub; a strange pressure began to precede the pains.
Things turned completely as soon as I got out of the tub; they were no longer the contractions I'd spent the last few hours getting used to. I can't really describe the sensation, other than to say it was horrible and involuntary, kind of like the sensation you get before throwing up (sorry...I know that's less than glamorous. I read it in a pregnancy book and found it to be a very apt description). You can't control it, your whole body just kind of...does it's own thing. That's what this was like, only much stronger.
I remember telling Todd, "My body is trying to push!" and it freaked me out, you know? I hadn't been in labor very long at all, compared to what I'd prepared myself for. I didn't think I could possibly be to the pushing stage yet, so what was going on? I also felt like I was bleeding a lot more than I should be, and bleeding in pregnancy is almost never a good sign. While it didn't turn out to be a problem, it added to my panicked state.
In the midst of all this, I was also having to focus on getting downstairs and into the car and to the hospital. I had no idea how I was going to do any of it and told Todd as much. Over and over again. Now with every involuntary inner convulsion (that's the best description I can give it), I was feeling a rush of fluid and couldn't believe it wasn't pouring out of me, flooding the floor. I suppose that was the remainder of my water breaking. Funny, actually; very few women experience their "water breaking," so I really wasn't expecting it. We can just add that to the list of things I wasn't expecting during labor.
In between my very close contractions Todd was flying around the house, throwing things in the car and telling me to "keep praying!" Had we known how quickly things were going to progress I would have been better prepared, but we thought we were in for a long, slow ride. He finally got me in the car and rushed us to the hospital. And I do mean "rushed." I was lying down in the back seat, giving him a weak "I made it through," after contractions. Every one felt like an accomplishment. I remember wondering why his blinker was on so long, and then I realized it was the hazard lights. He honked through intersections and didn't give red lights a second thought. Fortunately, it was only 5 am so the roads were pretty empty.
We only live about 10-ish minutes from the hospital on a great day, but we made it there in more like seven, I'd say; I only had two or three contractions while in the car. With every fast turn Todd made I could feel Ty sliding up and down, or something. I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that the waters had broken and he wasn't really "floating" anymore. I have no idea what it was or what caused it honestly, but the feeling was super weird. By the grace of God, we made it to the hospital without a car birth. Yes. I discovered that for some people, that is a legitimate real-life concern.
Also by the grace of God, there was already a midwife at the hospital. She wasn't our primary midwife, but she'd do in a pinch. Actually I really like her, but at that point I'd have liked anyone who could tell me what on earth was going on. She had a warm tub ready for me and told us that our midwife was on her way. I slid into the water and it took all of about 2 seconds for the her to assess that I was 10 centimeters dilated and could push as soon as our midwife arrived.
10 centimeters. Four hours into labor, and I was 10 centimeters. What was this, Hollywood? As surprised as I was, I suppose I was also relived. After all, pushing was exactly what my body had been trying to do for the past half-hour. Maybe not fighting it would be a nice change.
Our midwife arrived shortly after we did, and so commenced the next two hours of pushing. While it didn't feel like two hours, I was expecting it to be much shorter. Apparently, Ty was "right there," but just wouldn't come. And pushing is exhausting. I had no idea how exhausting it was going to be but towards the end all I could think about was getting on the bed and going to sleep! I'm sorry to say that was my sole motivation. I tried pushing in the tub for a while, but when that wasn't working they moved me to the birthing stool. Google one of those things, if you're interested. I have no idea who thought that up but it worked for me.
In between pushing, the midwife checked Ty's heart rate which began dropping consistently. I couldn't get him out fast enough for comfort, even with one of the midwives pressing down on my stomach to help. Ultimately I had to have an episiotomy. That was all it took! Ty came out within the next two contractions, cord wrapped twice around his neck. I'll always remember that he was born just after 7 am because our morning alarm had been going off in Todd's pocket for about 10 minutes before he came. Todd didn't have a free hand to turn it off so it just kept playing :)
They put him on my chest (and I'm sitting up, mind you, not lying down or majorly reclining) and I was so weak, all I could say was, "I can't hold him!" I guess Todd half held him from behind me where he'd been supporting me on the stool. I could barely keep myself upright, much less hold a slimy, squirmy newborn.
After...goodness, I don't know how long, a minute? Anyway, they ended up giving Ty to Todd to hold while the midwife helped me onto the bed (HALLELUJAH!) where I collapsed. She stitched up the episiotomy, and I just lied there and mentally recovered. It felt so good to be DONE. I told Todd several times that it had been so hard. It really was the hardest work I'd ever done in my life. They aren't lying when they say giving birth is like running a marathon, and if you've ever been nine months pregnant you know you're hardly in any condition for marathoning.
Ty was fine, once they got him out and untangled the cord. His head was only slightly coney, and everything else about him seemed to be working properly. I can't say I experienced any kind of joy at the sight of him, (some people have that, of course, I'm just not one of them) but I was glad he was there and healthy. I was too tired to think about much else, really. I did ask Todd if he was ugly or cute. I don't usually think newborns are cute, so I didn't want to be disillusioned by my own. Todd assured me that he was, in fact, cute :)
In a nut shell (coconut shell, I know), that's the birth story, all six hours of it :) We're all still living happily ever after so far, and I've mostly forgotten how hard labor was. I didn't think I'd ever be able to, but lack of sleep and total parenting cluelessness will do wonders for your negative short-term memory.
Here's the moral of the story and the lesson Todd and I learned: When your contractions are 2-3 minutes apart, just stop what you're doing and get to the hospital :)
And then spend the next few weeks doing lots and lots of this:
