First, I'll mention that I did NOT feel like I was about to have a baby. The only thing different about Friday was that, by the end of the day my feet were pretty swollen, even though I'd barely been on them that day. Other than that, it was just a normal day. I thought I noticed a teeny tiny bit more discharge, but not enough for me to think I'd lost my mucous plug. I was pretty sure I was still at less than 1cm dilated, but really, who knows?
Anyway, I woke up at 1:55am on Saturday, October 8th. I'd been having a dream that I was having some mild contractions, but I didn't think much of it, I just got up automatically to go pee. When I was in the bathroom I had a small contraction but wasn't convinced that's what it was until I got back to bed and had another. I was SO excited! They kept coming but weren't bad, so I figured I might as well stay in bed and try to get some more sleep.
I didn't sleep at all, partly because I was excited, and partly because some of the contractions required my concentration to get through them. I thought it'd be a good idea to work on some of my coping techniques before labour was too intense to think about it, so I practiced non-focused-awareness during that time. Usually, this calls for you to acknowledge every "disturbance" that your senses become aware of, and then move on from it after simply taking note of it. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but the idea is that you don't focus in on one thing and let it irritate you (such as the pain...) I found that, instead of listing all the senses (sight, touch, sound, smell, etc) I focused in on touch. I tried, during the contractions, to list off everything that was touching my body in any way, whether it was the bedsheets, my own body, the pillow, the air. I also pictured the air as blue, and tried to visualize the flow of air around my face as I breathed in and out. I was surprised to find that these things actually really helped me to cope, as it's the pain-coping technique I figured I'd use the least.
After an hour of this, I decided that I wasn't about to fall asleep any time soon, and would rather be coping upright. I went to the bathroom again (2nd BM of the night I think?) and decided to straighten my hair between contractions. I'm not going to lie, I totally did it because I wanted to look good in photos afterwards! Whenever I'd have a contraction I'd put the flat-iron down, rest my arms and head against the counter, and and breathe through it. This is when I started doing the whole, "blowing raspberries" thing, or breathing like a horse through my lips. It probably looks and sounds ridiculous, but I could feel it relaxing my body. I also tried to relax my body as I felt my shoulders and back tensing.
Around 3:30 I went downstairs and made a piece of toast with peanut butter to eat. I was contemplating finding something else to do between contractions, and had narrowed it down to putting on make-up or sewing my nursing cover, but then I realized that I barely had time to spread peanut butter and eat my toast.
I grabbed Matt's watch and started trying to time the contractions at this point. They were close together, sometimes 45 seconds apart (from finish of one to the start of another) and sometimes up to 3 or 4 minutes apart, but they were usually only 30 to 45 seconds, so I didn't think to call my midwife yet.
Around 4pm I went back upstairs and woke Matt up to tell him I was in labour. I wanted so much to let him keep sleeping, but I was starting to feel like I wasn't coping well on my own, and that it would really help if he pushed on my lower back when it hurt (which it did!)
At first Matt didn't believe me, but then all of a sudden he was up and about, suggesting things to help out, and just being...AWESOME. Honestly, SO different from Elijah's labour, where we both had no clue what to do. He ran downstairs and got his watch, and when he came back up I was kneeling on the floor with my arms resting on the chair, going through a contraction. He helped me through them for about 25 minutes like that, until he asked when I should call the midwife. I decided to page her then, because I really didn't know.
One important thing to note is that so far I felt like everything had been so similar, timing-wise, to Elijah's birth, from waking up at 2am, labouring on my own until 4, starting to time contractions with Matt, etc., so I felt in no rush to have my midwife come, I was just confused that I was having so many contractions.
My midwife (the one I like best! Yay!) called me back, and I told her what I was feeling. She said that they generally wanted to see things more regular than I was experiencing, as both the length of the contraction and the timing between them varied so much. She suggested having a bath, and said that the bath would do one of two things: it would either cause my labour to taper off, or it would cause my contractions to regulate themselves a little (the tub test? I don't know if that's a real term or phrase they use, but it's what I'm calling it from now on!)
Personally, I knew that this labour was not tapering off. She wanted it to have been intensifying (which is was) and to know that I couldn't talk through a contraction (which I couldn't.) I said, "I feel that both those statements are true...but if you want me to try this first, I will." It was still so early in the morning, and part of the reason I was calling was because I didn't want her to come too early if she thought I could go a little longer, but I wanted to know what to do.
So downstairs we went, to use that bathroom rather than the one attached to Elijah's room. The plug we had didn't fit the tub, so Matt ran next door, woke his parents and borrowed their plug. They asked if there was anything they could do, but Matt said to just go back to sleep, that it'd be a while yet. (Ha!)
I got in the tub and the warm water felt soooo nice. I wanted to just let it run and run, and felt a little despair when Matt told me it could only fill so far before the drain started to take the water out. I wanted my whole belly covered, darnit!
Contractions in the tub were HARD. It hurt to sit on the hard surface, and I really appreciated the concept of the padded/inflated floor of birth pools. It was difficult, too, because I couldn't easily move when I had a contraction, I could only sit there with my feet out in front of me. Matt rubbing my back felt nice, but it just...hurt. While in the tub, I felt like the pain was too intense to blow raspberries through it, and I started to moan instead.
I remember saying to Matt between a contraction that I'm losing my focus and control, that I could be doing so many other things to help cope with the pain, and I was forgetting what they all were. I was putting all of my energy into how I was moaning, and none on other techniques I had wanted to try. Matt asked me what else I could be doing, but before I could tell him to get my "birth plan," I had another contraction, and forgot about everything else.
I used all of my concentration to keep my moans low and controlled rather than have them mount and become high pitched and desperate-feeling, like I had done with Elijah, and when I thought of Elijah's birth and how I moaned then, it made me compare the two experiences again. I realized that, for so long with Elijah's labour I had just sat there with my legs out in front of me, and didn't find out until RIGHT before the epidural that I should have been trying different positions, and that it was pretty much the worst position to be in. And here I was, in the same position, having trouble and feeling like I couldn't cope as well. It was no surprise to me, then, that before long I started to feel desperate. A contraction would come, and all I could think was, "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here. I want to be at the hospital. I'm not comfortable at home. I thought I could do it, and I can't. This pain is too much, I need pain meds afterall, this must just be what I can handle, and who cares if my labour isn't what I envisioned it to be. I need to leave. NOW." I felt like a bit of a failure, I'll admit.
I decided to get out, and while Matt was running upstairs to get a towel, I got on all fours and had a contraction in the tub. I felt like I had to use the toilet again (3rd time since labour started) and I started whimpering and feeling panicky, like with Elijah's birth. Right along with the whimpering and panic I felt nauseous, and I remember my midwife (the one I didn't like) telling me at Elijah's birth that I was nauseous because I was tensing my body so much and letting my panic get to me. I consciously relaxed and it did help the contraction, but it also reaffirmed in my mind that I couldnt handle labour. Ohh the guilt!
I got up, had another contraction where Matt told me to try to not scream, but to make the low moaning sound instead, which I did.
Once that contraction was done I sat down on the toilet, and a few things happened simultaneously. 1) I pooped, just like I had to (and gross or not, it was so not solid. Just have to include that. I know it's way TMI...haha) 2) my water broke, 3) Abigail's head descended, 4) I screamed bloody murder, because, 5) She had gone from nothing to crowning in a second, and I was tearing, and about to deliver her right then and there.
Oh. My. Goodness. Panic is the best word to describe how I felt. Matt's word? Probably shock. I reached down and tried to hold her in (because somehow I thought it'd help...hahaha) while I screamed at Matt that she's coming, I can feel the head, call my midwife, I don't know what to do, I'm scared, etc etc. I somehow had to spit out what the midwives' pager number was (which he totally dialed wrong, waking up some poor person at 5am, asking for the Team B midwives...haha) He called Kr, my midwife on call, and she told him quite firmly (she admitted afterwards that she felt bad for being so harsh with him) to get me OFF the toilet, NOT back into the tub, and get me on the floor. She at first said the bed, but after realizing we were downstairs, she said the living floor would do. She said to call 911, to get Jeff and Carol (my in-laws) over there, and that she was coming as fast as she could (which is totally true. I happen to know she ran 2 stoplights and went 140km down my 60km/hr country road! Also, her husband told her afterwards that in all her years as a MW, he had never seen her put on her clothes and get out the door that fast. God bless her!)
I don't think I mentioned much about the timing from here on out. To summarize, I woke up Matt at 4am, we called Kr at 4:24 am, Matt talked to Kr at 5:02 am (after my water broke and I was trying unsuccessfully to keep the baby's head in.
So there I was, laying on the living room floor, and desperately saying to Matt that "She's coming, she's coming, I can't stop it, she's right there, I don't know what to do!" Matt just kept telling me what Kr said, to breathe it off, to "blow that feeling away" (which, surprisingly helped, the visualization thing apparently works well for me) and so I tried. SO hard. Every contraction she was coming further and further out, though, I couldn't do anything to stop it. There was so much going on around me, it was crazy. Carol was by our one doorway that looked to the outside, watching for Kr, and Jeff was outside of our other door, in the office on the phone with 911.
Poor dad (Jeff) though! Here was 911, who kept telling him, "You HAVE to go in there, we need these questions answered. You HAVE to go in!" and Matt shouting at him to "Go out and help Kr!" except all dad could hear was Matt repeatedly saying "Go out! Go out!" so dad was on the phone with 911 saying, "but they don't want me in there!" and feeling very confused as to what to do!
Meanwhile, I was trying to cope with the pain as best as I could and NOT push, even though every part of me wanted to. I don't remember when I started doing this, but I was repeating the same sound constantly, in between saying anything, asking questions. They were all sounds made with my mouth, and I think it just gave me something to do. I remember feeling like it was comforting and relaxing to just repeat the same sound over and over, like "Muh muh muh muh" "vuh vuh vuh vuh" or "buh buh buh buh." It also kindof reminded of Elijah's babbling (another random thought that popped into my head during all of this.)
A short time later, Mom let us know that Kr had pulled in the driveway, and after shouting at dad to go out, Matt came over and knelt down by my side. There was absolutely NO keeping that baby in there, and by the time Kr walked through the door, her (Abigail's) head was half out. I still had my hands down, trying to keep her in, and I don't remember if it was a conscious choice to push, or if my body just kept pushing her out, but Kr set down her stuff and turned around to me just in time to see Matt catch Abigail and place her on my chest.
It was the strangest feeling in the world, a kind of disbelief mixed with relief mixed with humour and amazement at the situation in general. It was so strange to feel (with my hands) her head come out, to know instinctively to just keep pushing and to feel her body come out, this big mess (to me) of limbs and torso and neck.
Abigail was born at 5:14am, not quite 15 minutes after my water broke. Crazy, right? I never thought I'd be one of those people, with one of those stories. I kind of feel like I could be on that show, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, except it'd be more like, I-didnt-know-I-was-that-far-along-and-I-didn't-recognize-transition-labour-because-I-had-an-epidural-last-time-and-really-thought-I-was-just-sucking-at-coping-and-was-a-failure.
Everything else has been relatively normal. I had about 6 stitches put in, but 4 are in a muscle and only 2 on the surface so going to the bathroom isn't too painful. It took a long time for them to do the stitches, and the only thing that was really hard about the whole thing (apart from the confusion, which was so short-lived anyway) was that I had to lay there on the floor for another 1-1.5 hours after delivery while they stitched me up and did all sorts of other stuff. My back, hips and legs were killing me by the time I could roll over and get up, and it was a little disappointing to not be able to see anything but the ceiling. I wanted to hold Abigail and nurse her, but it was such an awkward position, not being propped up with pillows, that it just wasn't possible.
On the upside, it meant that I got to watch Matthew hold her for the first time, and really take it all in. I actually don't remember the first time he held Elijah and I wish I had have paid more attention to that detail, that the memory would be there. This time, he took his shirt off so that he could hold her skin-to-skin, and we (well, I was laying there on the floor, so really it was mom) put a towel over top of her to keep her warm. Matt just sat on the kitchen bench holding her, calming her cries, and smiling. It was amazing, and I love that memory.
Another memory of it all that I love is how amazing Matthew was from the moment he was woken up by me at 4am. He was so loving and encouraging, telling me I'm doing great, saying I'm beautiful, amazing, all those things you like to hear when you don't exactly feel your best. He'd remind me after each contraction that it was one less contraction than I'd ever have to have, which was a rather comforting thought until I hit transition and the despair set in. He would push on my back, and wasn't at all bothered when I bossed him around and told him where to push (he suggested marking the spot I liked best on my back with a marker so that he always got it right...haha) He was just...amazing. And then, words can't even describe what a rock he was to me when all hell pretty much broke lose at the end. He said today that all he knew was how much he needed to keep it together, and that he was kind of screaming "Ahhhhhhhh!!!" on the inside. He didn't show a bit of that, though, and I'm so grateful.
Things definitely didn't go how I had planned, but they went amazingly, and I'm so very grateful. I don't feel like I, personally, did all that well, but I think it's just because the whole time except the last 15 minutes I was comparing the labour to Elijah's, and feeling like I was falling apart, just like I had done with his labour. Not that Elijah's was a bad labour, but I felt disappointed in myself after all was said and done, and I didn't want to feel that way this time. Those feelings are so hard to shake, even after telling myself that this labour was completely and totally different, even if it seemed to follow the same timeline for a couple hours. I'm guessing that I was actually much more dilated than I thought I was at 4am, but because I was actively coping through it, I didn't notice it, and just took my persistent pain to mean I wasn't coping at all really, and that I was acting just like how I had with Elijah's labour. We'll never know, though, as I never had an internal, or even so much as a heartbeat checked throughout it all.
Oh, and one awesome part of it all? I was upstairs in bed by 6:50am, and Elijah woke up at 7:08. Mom got him up and he was so happy to see her! It completely didn't phase him to wake up to so many people and things happening, and he had a great day. It's amazing to me that he slept through it all (I was really screaming quite loud for a bit there) and I'm so glad that he didn't wake up until I was settled in bed, just sitting there when he came out. It was like every other morning.
Yesterday I felt like Superwoman. My stitches didn't hurt, nursing was going fantastically, I could take on the world, and clean the house while I'm at it. This morning I felt pretty good too, despite the awful night we had, but as today has progressed I'm feeling things a bit more. My stitches still aren't too bad, but my muscles are starting to feel like I maybe really did have a baby yesterday.
I'm tired, and it'll probably only get worse because apparently Abigail's days and nights are mixed up. She wouldn't sleep for longer than 20 minutes from 9:30pm until 5:30am. From 1:30 to 3:30 I was nursing her almost constantly, and there was some damage done so now it hurts a little to nurse (an improved latch will help that, I'm sure.) Matt took her downstairs close to 4, and she finally settled down and fell asleep at 5:30, and she's really only awoken to feed since then, otherwise falling back asleep. It's now 2:45, and I'm fully expecting tonight to be awful. Just...awful. BUT tomorrow we start putting her onto a schedule, doing such rude things as giving her a bath when she's trying to sleep to wake her up and be more awake during the day, so we'll see. I felt a little upset about the night when I woke up this morning, but then I looked at Elijah and remembered that, difficult as it was when he was born, we survived to the point where we wanted another baby, so I'm sure we'll survive this too. It's such a short time, and it'll be a blur to look back on it. For now, I want to treasure every good memory, so that those stand out more than the blur that is having a newborn.
I know I said it before, but I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend. Yes, I missed the craft show and 2 turkey dinners, but it's so worth it. This little, chubby sweetheart has slipped into our family and made it so natural and perfect that we can't imagine, let alone desire it to be, any other way.
[caption id="attachment_1112" align="aligncenter" width="199" caption="The chubbiest cheeks I've ever seen!"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1110" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Look! She actually has girly hands, and not big man hands!"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1109" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Me and my fantastic hair, straightened just for post-delivery photos...hahaha"]
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