Directly beside me, on the coffee table, K began setting up the infant resuscitation area. As she brought out oxygen and other medical tools, I could hear my thoughts begin to fight. I know that this is normal. She does this at every birth. This is normal. I am fine. The baby is going to be fine. And the scarier, and louder thoughts: The baby will need this. The baby might die. You know what it is like to have a dead baby. As much as I cognitively knew why the equipment was being made available, it was overwhelming, scary, and triggering. I let out a sob, asking K (and begging the universe) "the baby's going to be okay?!". Thus began my first emotional meltdown. Here I was in the throes of labour and remembering just what happened to both my children the last time. K quickly came to me and explained that she was getting ready because I seemed to be coping, but that she could see that I needed reassurance. Somewhere in this exchange J arrived and came to my side. K found the baby's heartbeat, healthy and strong, without incident. She then offered to check my cervical dilation.
After checking me, K estimated me to be 7cm dilated. I have to say that being told that I am that far along is validating. I have been working fairly hard, but managing without much support, and have made it this far. Also, it was probably a good thing that I called my team in. She then explained that she calls this an 'inconsequential 7'. My waters had not yet ruptured, so the bag of waters was putting pressure on me, that was what I was feeling. She explained that when my waters rupture, the baby's head would descend quickly.
Given how far along I was, the pool needed to be filled with water quickly and I needed to be given antibiotics. This administration of antibiotics is recommended by Health policy in Ontario for women who have been ill, or have had a child(ren) who were ill, as a result of GBS. Given that this is what caused my labour with Patrick and Maggie, I fit the bill. However, throughout my pregnancy each midwife had given a different perspective on receiving the medication. I was particularly unsure given that it requires the insertion of an IV. K reflected on my anxiety. I had already melted down and it seemed that what I needed was assurance of health. This was a convincing argument, so I agreed to the IV. K quickly inserted the IV and administered the antibiotic and then I was free to labour, with the IV taped to my hand, but leaving me untethered.
J was an amazing presence during labour. I wanted peace while I laboured. I think, in our home, a downfall to home birth is that Lee is busy. He is parenting EllaGrace, preparing water, answering questions, etc. He is not free to be 100% present for me. J was though. I did notice, that despite all of the different pain management strategies she had demonstrated to us before, none were being suggested. I later learned that this is because I was so far along. She did however, tickle my back (something I LOVE on the best of days). She was gently and quietly present. She offered encouraging words sometimes. She held my hand. She was there. And it was reassuring because she has watched this unfold with other women, she has knowledge, and her only role is to have that knowledge and support you. Several times I thought of proposing to her and her glorious back rubbing hands, just as soon as I was done this labouring.
M eventually arrived, between 1:00 and 1:30. It was nice to have her there. I find so much reassurance in each of the women who were a part of my care team. They are so knowledgeable and kind. I love that they are each so different, and offer a balance. And whether it is just how they do their jobs, they helped me to feel like I was special and important. For me, this labour and delivery was not just any labour and delivery. This was after having had two children die. I needed to believe that our caregivers understood the significance of this. They were mostly quiet as I laboured. I was encouraged to take on more of a squatting position so that gravity might help rupture my waters and move things along, which I tried by moving from on the couch to the floor. I recall one contraction, which occured while I was walking towards the bathroom, in which I held on to the banister and ... dangled... for lack of a better word. They were all very encouraging with this position. This was also the contraction during which I yelled some profane language - they all laughed, I apologized, and they all laughed some more.
The thing about labour, for me, is that I use denial as a coping strategy. I knew I was about 4cm dilated at the start of the day, but doubted that labour had started despite regular contractions that evening. I knew I was at least 7cm dilated at that time, but kept reminding myself that it could be a long time yet. Telling myself this, I am motivated to save up any good techniques that might help me, like the pool. They had the pool ready and encouraged me to get in, but I was unsure if I wanted to use it yet. I confessed that I did not feel ready to be prancing about naked just yet either. In my mind, this means I am not far along, because in my experience, when things get serious, modesty goes out the window. They supported me getting in the pool wearing underwear and a bra. I spent some time here, labouring. I remember saying 'ow-wow-wow-wow' through contractions. I was hoping that big 'o' shapes with my mouth were conducive to allowing my body to open up, rather than fighting things. I remember beginning to feel like I could not handle the contractions anymore. I cried.
K asked if my waters had ruptured yet. I told her not, and questioned if I would know while in the pool. They all assured me 'oh, you will know.' At one point K announced that she believed my waters had broken, pointing out 'turbulence' in the pool. It was just the hose spurting out cold water and air! Everyone had a laugh. In the end, I never did notice when my waters broke. I think it was likely while I was pushing. And, I often think, isn't it interesting that Maggie's sac ruptured at 15 weeks - like it was weak, and here I was fully dilated and still nothing?
K asked if I might be comfortable removing my underwear soon as she would perhaps like to see how things are moving along. I declined, still preferring some sense of modesty.
I still had not had my waters break, but just like with my labour four years ago, I was going through a contraction and felt the distinct bodily instinct - I was pushing. My body was bearing down and my 'wow' sounds, turned into a deep grunting moan. I announced that I was pushing. K suggested that this was really the time to remove my underwear! Up to this point, I had been leaning on the side of the pool. In the next contraction, I turned over, kind of floating and leaning backwards in the pool. From the first, involuntary push, things moved incredibly fast. I felt a huge, unrelenting contraction. I did not need coaching on when to push, my body was taken over. On one set of notes that I have from the midwives, it is written 'involuntary pushing at 03h28' and head delivered at 03h29. The entire baby was delivered by 03h30. I HULKED OUT. I was an animal. My back was arched and I had no control over my body. It was beyond intense. It was overwhelming. It took me days to adjust to how quickly this part of the story unfolded.
In those moments, everyone was with me. K was there to catch the baby - or help Lee to do so, I'm not sure. M was there to ensure the baby was healthy and safe. J was there, ever present and soothing. I gave birth and the baby was put on my chest, but I could not look. Lee said it was a boy. I began to weep, asking if he was okay, still not looking at the baby. I was calling, almost yelling "my baby, my baby. Make sure it's okay." I could hear M telling me that the baby was healthy and fine, her voice calming and reassuring, but also distant for the moment. My mind went back to 2013. The words leaving my mouth changed from 'my baby' to "my babies.. my babies..." I was yelling for Patrick and Maggie, crying and distressed. I again heard M reassuring me and telling me to look down at the baby on me and finally I could. There was this baby on me. This little boy. Sweet and perfect and amazing. And healthy and alive and 7lbs10oz. I was so lucky.
Not every person has a magical moment after birth during which they fall in love with their baby. Not everyone has rainbows and happy tears. For me, I was paralyzed by fear. I was to scared to see the baby and love it more, when I could not be sure it would live. Giving birth was triggering (unsurprisingly). I was scared for this baby. I grieved for Patrick and Maggie. Not only was it physically overwhelming, but emotionally as well. And in all that, I managed to become present and celebrate my new Love. I love birth stories, but I cannot remember the delivery of this baby without feeling that sadness and fear. I have tears in my eyes any time I think about it. And like my sobs in the hospital when Patrick and Maggie died, I can hear myself calling 'my babies'. I'm not sure that sound and sense of despair and desperation will ever live my memory.
I made it out of the pool and was wrapped up in blankets on the couch holding my new baby, when CB arrived. She looked around the room and announced/questioned "I missed it?!" She had been unable to sleep after we spoke and had left an hour later, but with the 1.5 hour drive, it had been just too long. She had missed the birth by minutes. I was sad to not have had more witnesses. Perhaps that is strange to say, but even though it was overwhelming, it was still amazing. Something to be celebrated. I wanted my friend to see that, to bare witness. But I was happy to have her when she did arrive, and she brought muffins and coffees for the others, which was widely appreciated.
Looking back, there are only a few things that I would change. A big one is EllaGrace. She was meant to have the option to witness the birth. Since it was the middle of the night we did not want to have her awake longer than necessary. Things unfolded so quickly at the end that there had not been a chance to wake her. I wish that we had allowed her to get up and come downstairs with us - she could have napped on the couch, or done whatever she needed to, but I wish she had been there. I also did not call my friend B, who was supposed to photograph the birth. I had texted her, but since it was the middle of the night, I felt badly waking her. I regret not waking her - surely she would have recovered - and I do not have any of the photos that I would have liked to have.
We did not go to sleep that night. We phoned our families in the early morning hours. CB helped care for EllaGrace and we all took naps throughout the day. Baby A remained nameless - he could not be named until we met his Twibling. So now, we cuddled, and waited more.
xx
No comments:
Post a Comment