Written by Sarah
I’ve been in a fog all week. The snow and freezing temperatures have me wanting to go nowhere and do nothing, only snuggle up in my warm bed with my son Liam and a steaming cup of tea. I walk around the house aimlessly in only a bra and leggings because nothing can cover my low round belly anyways, lamenting that it’s probably okay that all three attempts at my Mother Blessing have been thwarted by the weather so I didn’t have to get dressed and could instead take another Epsom salt bath, my creature comfort. This is my routine now.
Today I am “39 and 3”. That means I have 4 weeks and 4 days until I have to worry. That’s the joke I tell myself. I have largely refused to admit to having a “due date” and very few people know anything other than that, if I am still pregnant in March, we’ve got a problem. Nonetheless, I looked at the calendar hanging on my fridge with this coming Sunday’s date circled and I prayed to my Grandmother to guide my child safely to me soon.
Just not today, I thought. Today is not the day for having a baby.
The words “Polar Vortex” are in the title of nearly every news article I’ve come across the last few days, and yet it didn’t quite sink in that this might affect me. I was staying home after all, warm and cozy in my house with my cuddle-buddy and my tea and my Epsom salt baths. Suck on that Polar Vortex, you can’t get me. But when I walked downstairs that morning to start a load of laundry before breakfast, I was met with frozen pipes. Today was definitely not a good day to have a baby.
Instead, today was a day for coffee. A rare treat for a pregnant mama who had ritualized the daily infusion of various herbs for a pregnancy tea. My trusty 3 year old helper was on it, off to the pantry to fetch the brand new Costco-sized container of coffee grounds as I busied myself fetching the ingredients for an omelet-for-two. And so naturally it all went wrong. I turned around just moments too late to find my trusty helper playing in a heap of coffee grounds on my white living room rug. Just then, deep and low inside me, I felt the first tightenings of labor, bringing my baby Earthside.
I sat with a hotsock snuggled under my belly for a while, did some cat-cows and bounced on my ball, but eventually found myself needing a bath. The waves slowed to a near stop as the bath water grew cool. I drifted in and out of my fog, paying little attention to the podcast playing in the background. Eventually I let the water drain, the bath having done its work, and stood to my feet. Immediately a strong wave washed over me, my belly tight and achy. Well, that didn’t work.
Liam and I made turkey grilled cheese for lunch. Extra cheese. We piled a plate high with both of our sandwiches and three apples worth of apple slices and snuck upstairs for a picnic in bed. And I cried knowing we wouldn’t get to be just us much longer. I lay on my left side facing him as he faced the TV behind me, munching away on our lunch and watching a movie, oblivious to the impending change. I placed an earbud in and drifted off to my Rainbow Relaxation track.
I hazily opened my eyes some time later to an intense aching in my belly. I rolled over to see Octonauts was now playing on the television and I supposed I must have slept for a while. Time for another bath. As the tub filled, the waves came for me. I could feel the shape of each one; feel it crest with intensity, then feel it ebb away. I soaked there in the tub, slowly pouring cups of water over a belly that peaked above the surface until the waves stopped. The water cooled and I drained the tub to stand, immediately pulled back into my body’s work by another wave.
By the time my husband Tyler returned home from work I had formulated a plan.
- Finish cleaning the house
- Set up the birth tub… just in case…
- Go to bed early
I hurried around the house, ignoring the waves as I picked up toys, swept, and vacuumed. I washed a final load of dishes and my mind took me back to the very first labor I had ever witnessed at just 11 years old. My Aunt Karin washing dishes, rocking and moaning at the sink, as she waited for my Uncle’s flight to land. She had the baby 20 min after arriving at the hospital. Clearly it worked for her, so I would wash dishes too. My husband laughed when I explained my methodology, shooing him away when he tried to help. This was the first and only time I had ever happily washed dishes.
He sent me upstairs for a final bath before bed. He would set up the tub and meet me there and we told ourselves we would sleep well knowing everything was prepared for when active labor began. I lay in the tub, my waves subsided, and sent a message to my closest friends, Morgan and Haley, who would join me for labor as photographer and Doula. “Going to bed but I’m probably in early labor. Keep your phones on just in case baby decides to come tonight.” Oh, denial.
I listened from the tub as my husband tucked my son into his bed and resolved to make my way to bed as well. But just as had happened each time before, immediately upon standing up, my labor intensified. I went downstairs to find my husband for a final goodnight kiss but found myself being hit hard and fast by the waves. Back up the stairs to rush off to bed. Another strong one. Stop off in the bathroom to pee. Another strong one. Shit.
My phone is dinging repeatedly, texts about my “maybe labor” undoubtedly, and I hear a cry of “dada” from across the hall. I decide to check on Liam so Ty can finish up and we can all get some much needed rest. Quickly, I tell myself as another wave overtakes me.
“Dada…”he called again just as I enter his room “… my tummy feels yucky…” But before I can even respond he’s already puked.
I’m covered. He’s covered. The bed’s covered. And another wave washes over me. That’s when Ty appeared and whisked Liam away down the stairs before my wave had subsided. And I was left with the puke.
Back to the bathroom to clean up and my phone was still dinging away with messages. Morgan and Haley had been communicating though our group message, unsure of how “in labor” I was, and wanting to make plans. How long and far apart were my contractions? Had I checked myself? They wanted numbers but I had none to give. I had no interest in timing my contractions and no intention of putting my newly-vomit covered fingers near my cervix. I had told them both one of the most important things to me was that I rely on my inner voice and my self-knowledge during my birth and as I reflected on that I could no longer deny this baby was on it’s way. And so they were as well.
I was on the floor, stripping vomit covered sheets from my son’s bed, and the waves kept on, and so did I. There was work to be done, on both fronts. And the only thing to do was to keep moving. I came down the stairs, carrying a trash bag full of fun, just as my front door opened. My dear friend, space-heater-in-hand, here to help.
We set the space heater in the laundry room in the hopes of thawing the pipes for the impending loads of laundry and remade the bed upstairs before congregating in the kitchen with Ty. Liam was snuggled into the corner of the sectional in the Livingroom, my birth space, watching Octonauts on the TV. Time to channel my inner aunt Karin and unload the dishwasher, I thought, and grabbed the crockpot from bottom rack of the dishwasher. But every wave now brought with it so much pressure and I could no longer work through them on my own. I pulled my husband behind me, moaning and grinding into him as my friend held me and I held the crockpot. And when the wave subsided and I opened my eyes, Morgan had arrived. “No more dishes, Sarah” she laughed.
“Is it time to get into the tub?” They asked me. I was running this show after all…
“No, it’s too soon”.
Do some squats.
Try the toilet.
“How about now?” “No?” “One more?”
Waves.
Fill the tub.
More waves.
Intense and on top of each other.
Not full enough yet but it will do.
I stepped in and the water wrapped around me and lifted me up, my belly weightless, the pressure relieved. Liam suddenly took notice of the tub and brought his toy animals over to drink from the ‘watering hole’, gasping as he dropped his elephant, exclaiming “Motembo’s in the water!” And we knew then he would need a task. Haley and Liam took turns pouring water over me as Ty held me, kissing my forehead every so often. But just as with each of my baths today, the waves slowed, and I suddenly felt my baby may not be on its way after all.
I insisted, then, that I had to get out.
Back to the toilet. Better. Closer. Longer. I hung on Tyler for a while, squatting with his support and swaying with him. Pressing myself into him as the pressure intensified with each crashing wave. Yes, this was working. This was work! I needed to rest on the couch, and Haley helped me to do a side lying release so I could feel I was still being active as I lay there.
Tyler brought two popsicles over to the couch, one for me and one for Liam, and I was grateful as I felt the sugar bolstering my energy. Suddenly, though, it was overwhelming, the pressure unbearable without Tyler there move against, and I sat up from the couch and yelled “I need a bowl!” Puke, for the second time tonight. But this time I was excited! I must be close! I re-entered the tub and leaned forward onto the side, checking my dilation. Gobs of mucus and bloody show came out with my fingers. “Six”.
Certainly now I could stay in the tub without consequence, yes? Now that I had reached the “magic six” of “active labor” everything would undoubtedly move quickly. And how many mamas had I attended whose labors had gone from six to ten in the blink of an eye. We may yet have a baby before midnight! Definitely before 1am… 1:30?
But just as they had every time before, the waves subsided in the water.
“Do I get out?” I asked them for their guidance but they looked to me. It was what I had wanted, but now I wondered what wisdom a midwife might provide me. She would probably tell you to get out of the tub. Go to the toilet where things picked up before, where you were open and relaxed. Your labor can’t progress with your contractions so spaced out.
But my inner voice disagreed. This baby is coming. And sure, I can force it to happen on some arbitrary timeline, intensifying the waves to a point of overwhelming me, and perhaps my baby too. But I could also choose to let things take their own course. I could choose to float, to drift along, and allow the intricacies of my baby’s and my body’s work to shift slowly until it was time. I chose to float.
From that moment of acceptance, I remember little else. Every so often I could feel my consciousness being pulled back into the room as people moved around me doing this and that. The art of doing nothing is not an easy one. Ty took Liam up to bed around 1am, baby nowhere in sight. Water was added to the tub, pots replaced on the stovetop to boil. The bathroom door clicked open and shut as the whirring sounds of a breast pump and the snaps of a camera shutter all swirled together and I floated on.
Later they told me that I seemed to be in a trance for hours. My eyes remained closed and I didn’t respond to much, but every few minutes I would hum and moan and rock up onto my knees. At some point I asked for my beads, a string of charms given to me by many of the women in my life, and I held them as I hummed and rocked. Then at 3am, Tyler’s morning alarm sounded and I opened my eyes.
“I’m going to take a quick nap” he said, kissing me on the forehead and disappearing around the corner. I looked around the room suddenly feeling a burst of energy and awareness. I could tell Morgan and Haley were both tired, but I felt remarkably well rested. I urged them to sleep, gesturing to the basket of pillows and blankets by the sectional but they laughed and assured me they were staying right where they were. Maybe when Ty came back down they would trade off for naps.
Suddenly I noticed John Mayer’s voice crooning from the sound bar. I wasn’t sure when the change from Octonauts to my labor playlist had happened but I was grateful someone had thought to do it. “He’s coming to Columbus, isn’t he?” I asked. Riding the waves left my breathy, but I could talk through them. Another sign this baby was nowhere near ready to come if I was talking through them. We all laughed. What was so funny, I couldn’t tell you, but we laughed, and sang along to the chorus, and now we have plans to see his show in August #ThrowbackThursday #BasicBitches
Suddenly, I felt the urge to push. And I felt no urge to check my cervix to be sure.
Only half an hour after Tyler had gone up for his nap, I was sending Morgan up to get him.
Birth really is women’s work I mused in that moment. And then Oh God, my husband likes to sleep naked… “Morgan, he might not have pants on!” I called after her, just before another strong urge to push overtook me. Yep, definitely feeling a little pushy.
“He was wearing pants” she announced gliding back into the room coolly. But she says when she looked at me just then she was compelled to go right back up and hurry him along.
The waves were on top on each other, unrelenting, no time in between. As one would begin to crest, another was already forming. There was no more ebb. Tyler dragged into the kitchen, eyes still mostly closed, and began fiddling with the French press, completely unaware how much I needed him with me. I leaned back from my hands and knees, wanting to recline against the side of the tub. I wanted to catch my baby myself and this would be the easiest way but my body revolted at the change in position and I knew I would give birth on my hands and knees, just as I had labored. I called to him, flipping back over, and I felt a drop, so fast and so deep with me, as if my baby had fallen 100 feet in an instant all while still within me. My bones were being pried apart and my body was pushing.
I panicked. This was not what I thought pushing would feel like. This was not the slow calm of ‘breathing my baby out’ that I had envisioned. This was being run through with a truck. I cried, shaking with panic “I can’t do this! Help me!”
They all looked at one another, frozen in stunned silence. But Tyler took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes and assured me “Yes. You. Can. You are! You are doing this, Sarah”. Morgan grabbed a pile of handwritten notes from my friends and began reading them to me just as my body began to push again, and I felt my waters release into the pool. I wrapped myself around Ty, pulling him close to me as my body pushed down.
I remember feeling as if I were screaming at the top of my lungs, pulling for dear life as all of the forces of the universe pushed in opposition. I felt utterly as if I was being ripped apart. But when I saw the photos of those moments I look so remarkably calm, my jaw hanging loose and open, held gently by my partner.
“Keep reading” I cried the moment Morgan finished the first card, and Haley jumped in with the next. They read words of love and assurance, and they read words of wisdom and experience. And even words my own words were read back to me, words that I had shared with another mother as she labored to bring her baby, the way I was now. And I felt the strength of every one of those women holding me up and urging me forward.
I could feel my baby’s head crowning, stretch me, holding me open. I pushed consciously then, his head and shoulders coming together in one push. As I breathed in preparing to push again, I could feel him wriggling, still half unborn. I pushed one more time and called to my friend to pull my baby from the water. And I heard the rhythmic cries of new life as new lungs filled with air for the first time, and then the second, and then the third.
“Meet Elliott,” my husband said, tears in his eyes. And I turned to meet my son and sobbed. “He has ears,” were apparently my first words when I saw him.
6 minutes later the water turned a luscious ruby red. I gripped the cord with a piece of cotton gauze and felt it move down. This one doesn’t have bones, I reminded myself, a common joke among midwives and OB’s that had always felt overplayed to me, but in this moment made me smile. I breathed down with a little push and the cord lengthened in my hands but I wanted it out. I knew that this was where fear lay for the people in the room with me so I handed Elliott to Tyler and stood squatting in the pool, releasing my placenta into the awaiting bowl in Haley’s hands. Haley, my dear friend, and catcher of both my baby and my placenta.
We snuggled on the couch eating avocado toast and nursing as I instructed them on how to prepare my placenta. They cleaned up quickly, and pipes finally unfrozen, threw in a load of towels as we “Ooo-ed” and “Ahh-ed” over our sweet babe, looking him over in awe of what we had created. We spent our first day as a family, snuggled in our warm bed, polar vortex still swirling around our quiet sleepy house, the whole world completely unaware we had just welcomed this new life into our home.
Thank you for sharing your story, Sarah! I hope readers were able to find wisdom and courage here.
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