Friday evening as Davey and I lay with Sophia to help her fall asleep for the night I noticed some contractions, but didn’t think much of them. I thought I was just tired and they’d go away after I fell asleep. Sophia and I had had a very busy, very happy day with Esther and her kids; we spent the morning at the ranch playing and in the afternoon we baked a quadruple batch of pumpkin muffins, roasted a turkey, cleaned the house, and even though she had repeatedly mother-hen’ed me to “sit down and put your feet up!”, I hadn’t.
After Sophia fell asleep I mentioned the contractions to Davey but told him they were probably just fatigue contractions and would go away with rest and hydration. He went out to read on the computer and about an hour later around 9:30 I came out of our bedroom to tell him the contractions were pretty consistent and this just might be real labor. He said okay and returned his attention to the online New York Times. I wasn’t convinced it was real either. I’d been expecting to go into labor for so long and had said too often, “I bet today is the day!” Since my anticipation was always for naught, I had kind of quit expecting it to happen.
But, I called Billye anyway and told her I was having fairly consistent contractions but that they weren’t intense at all and yada yada. We decided I would go back to bed and call her later if it looked like the contractions were sticking around.
When I couldn’t fall asleep, I got out of bed, kicked Davey off the computer and good naturedly bossed him around for a while. Might as well prepare in case this was really it! One thing that must be captured for all of posterity is that during this time, Davey seriously pointed out this “one spot” on his shoulders that was killing him and repeatedly requested me to massage it for him. I kept laughing and declining without remorse, “Dude, I’m probably in labor and you want me to massage you?”
Of all the “prepare for labor” to-do list items, one thing I was adamant he had to do first. I had been asking him for weeks (maybe months?) to make me a stone necklace to wear during the birth. I wore his homemade stone pendant during Sophia’s labor and I wanted a new one to wear for this baby. My plan was to gift the necklaces to my children someday when they were having their first babies so that they (or their wives) could wear it during the labors of their own children. And so he headed off to the back of the house and made me and our new baby a stone pendant and cordage necklace to wear.
We called Matt Howard and he headed over to help Davey give me a blessing in preparation for the birth. (Which cracks me up, because we always forget that blessings of comfort (not healing) only need one person.) As we chit chatted with Matt it all felt kind of surreal, thinking that I was about to do something very, very difficult, but here we were just chatting about this and that. I don’t remember many specifics of what Davey said during the blessing, but I remember feeling somehow both peaceful and excited. I remember he spoke of God’s love for me, and that during this challenging experience I would grow to know God in the depths of my soul.
After Matt left, I got in the tub for the first time but got out soon after because honestly the contractions just weren’t intense and I felt like being up and about. I looked over to see Davey sitting in our rocker looking exhausted, and since it looked like this baby might be a long time coming, I told him he could go to bed if he wanted. He went straight to bed and fell fast asleep the second his head hit the pillow. As normal.
Of course I didn’t though, I wandered around the house in my sports bra and skirt - cleaning, brewing pregnancy tea, eating pumpkin muffins and turkey, and getting all the details in place - all the while rubbing my belly and smiling.
I was starting to believe this was really it and I was getting more and more excited. The house was dark and silent, and as I’d moan softly to myself through the contractions I felt motherly, calm and happy. Each time I’d walk past Davey’s sleeping form I’d smile and feel so benevolent and loving toward him. “Sleep well, my dear husband, soon you’ll be holding my hand and wiping my brow as I push out our new baby!”
The contractions were sometimes intense, sometimes barely noticeable. For a while they’d be every five minutes or so and then they’d spread out longer. Honestly I didn’t keep track of them too carefully, it was annoying to try to time them – I enjoyed working through them much more when I wasn’t staring at a clock. When I’d feel the tightening coming sometimes I’d lean over the table and sway my hips while moaning, or I really liked walking through them – that was a strange but good sensation, they felt very productive when I’d walk through them. I also liked to stand in front of the bathroom mirror so I could watch as my belly would get incredibly tight and unreal looking. I’d never seen such a thing – it was like all that was left of me was skin and baby. I couldn’t get enough of it - it made my jaw drop every time. I felt very happy and close to this new little spirit that was preparing to join our family.
When my bowels started loosening right on up, I decided I better call Billye. Maybe the uncomfortable diarrhea sensation kicked me out of my dream-like happy labor state. Honestly, I kind of forgot about needing to call her for a while there. It was about 1 AM when I called her and updated her, finishing with, “I’m feeling great, some contractions are intense, some aren’t, but I think if my water broke things might progress faster.” She practically jumped through the phone, I swear, “Oh my goodness Rachel, you should have called me earlier! I may not get there in time, but if I don’t - just know that everything will be okay. I’m throwing my contacts in and jumping in the car! I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell Davey to get ready, ‘cause he may have to catch this baby!”
“Oh wow… well…maybe I should wake him up then???”
I had a little adrenaline rush during that conversation, that’s for sure. But I couldn’t imagine I was that close to delivering this baby, I mean everything felt so manageable and light. The grueling, intense part of labor that I knew would come eventually still seemed miles away. But I went in and woke up Davey and told him jokingly “You may need to catch this baby, so up and at ‘em!”. We started calling everyone and I got in the tub, hoping that it would slow down labor in case things did get intense too quick for the hour and a half drive Billye had ahead of her.
I asked if it’d be easier to check me on the bed instead of the tub and since that was an affirmative I jumped out of the tub and headed to Sophia’s empty bed (she was asleep on her toddler mattress in our bedroom). I had to stop along the way to work through a contraction and it felt longer and stronger than any other I’d had. “Very exciting”, I said as soon as it passed.
After Billye listened to the heart rate again, I was very surprised and a bit concerned to see Misti putting the gloves on and preparing to check me. She had only attended maybe three of my prenatal visits and I knew she was at the beginning of the “hands on” part of her midwifery training. I had assumed she would only be observing during my labor since that is all she had done during the prenatal visits as well. It also surprised me that they didn’t ask, “Is it ok if Misti checks you instead?” But I brushed my concerns aside with a little inward pep talk of, “for the good of midwifery, Rachel!” and, “it’s ok to let her practice on you, everything is so chill and easy right now!”
And it was, it went fine and she deemed my dilation between a 7.5 and an 8. They were immediately gushing compliments – ooing and aweing my greatness and telling me how amazing I was doing. It was strange because I knew they were just doing their best at being encouraging. But I felt waves of discomfort. I felt all of a sudden very…self-aware. Like I felt this pressure to do fantastic, to be the strong wonder woman that everyone was telling me I was. I didn’t want to think about how amazing or strong or great I was or wasn't. I think part of the reason things were going so smoothly was because I hadn’t had to worry about how I was doing – I was just doing it. If that makes sense. Inside, I was wishing I was back alone with just the baby and I working together with Davey sleeping by our side.
I got back in the tub and tried to get out of my head. I was glad that the only light in the room was a tiny lamp in the corner - the darkness helped me feel safer. And things kept going well, the contractions were getting stronger and I was losing my sense of time and awareness. I no longer opened my eyes between contractions.
After a while (the notes say it was about 40 minutes after Misti checked me) I felt that familiar “this is too much” feeling starting to come at the height of each contraction. My moans were turning more wail-like and I remember calling out, “Check me Billye, check me – tell me if it feels like this because I could be pushing!” I had told her during prenatal visits that I had never felt the urge to start pushing with Sophia, but that once I had started pushing it had been my absolute favorite part of labor so it was very important to me that she help me figure out the very earliest that I could start.
I opened my eyes briefly and saw Misti, not Billye, leaning over the tub putting on gloves in preparation to check how dilated I was. “No, no, no.” was what I felt but I just shut my eyes and tried to breathe deep.
And then I felt pain like I can’t describe. Like my head was exploding. Like she was down there ripping my cervix open with a chain saw. Sorry for the graphic description, but there really is no way to describe the horrendousness of that feeling. I finally yelled, “Get out, get out, get out!” and then a desperate half sob, “What am I? Am I complete? Can I push?” And no answer came, just some mumbles of “Um…well...I’m not sure.” And I had lost it. My whole body was shaking and I was crying uncontrollably. I was hyperventilating, and I literally couldn't see straight.
He held me tight with my face buried in his shoulder while I sobbed and shook and tried to breathe again. “Talk to me, tell me something”, I cried in his ear. And honestly I have no recollection of what he actually said, only feeling like I was holding on to him for dear life, and feeling a small sense of reprieve from the glare of everything. Over the next few minutes of hiding in his arms I slowly felt the intensity of the exploding in my head quiet and my breathing slow down. I asked for a tissue and tried to deal with the mass quantities of snot that was keeping me from breathing normally.
And then, my water broke. Billye said, “Why don’t you try pushing.” And she got no response from me because there was no other option - once that water broke my body was pushing without me. I was still facing the side of the tub with my arms around Davey and that felt terrible while pushing so I begged him help move me move quickly to a more squat, facing out position, with him supporting me under my arms.
It was strange pushing, so unlike with Sophia. I felt like I never got a break, and like I wasn’t working together with my body, no, instead my body was on a train ride that was screaming down the tracks at 100 miles an hour. I was quiet now, just low moans and deep breathing, no wailing or hyperventilating, but it wasn’t how it should be – that I could tell.
I had planned for Sophia to be there for the end of pushing and the birth. I remember feeling the baby moving down so much with each push and knowing it was coming fast, so I called out for Nathalie to bring Sophia in much sooner than I would have thought. She sat on Nathalie's lap on the rocking chair near the side of the tub. It was still impossible to open my eyes, but occasionally I would hear Sophia yawn loudly. I knew I would be smiling about that soon.
I only pushed for 16 minutes total and at 4:54 AM she was here. Misti pulled her up from the water to my chest and I held her and thanked God over and over that she was here.
We actually didn’t know what sex she was for a couple minutes at least, I just held my baby and felt the peace and the warmth push the panic, desperate feeling out of my heart.
Finally I remembered, and peeked between her legs, “She’s a girl, Davey! She’s a girl!”
He hung over my shoulder and hugged us and held her little hand.
As she slowly pinked up, we brought Sophia over and she sat on Davey’s lap while we loved on her, and the midwives did their checks.
After the cord stopped pulsing Sophia jumped up and down with excitement that she could help cut it. Davey helped her hands hold the scissors and she hasn't stopped talking about it yet.
“I thought it was a boy!” I remember her saying at some point. She also asked when the baby would start crawling.
My placenta was slower to come, even when I had already put her to my breast, so they had me give the baby to Davey and I tried moving around and different positions to help it speed up.
They gave me some bitter tasting herb liquid to drink that was supposed to help. About half an hour after she was born, Billye had Misti pull gently on the cord and the placenta finally came.
The midwife's helped me walk slowly to my bed, all the while assuring me that I probably wouldn’t have a tear since I had “just breathed that baby right out.” I remember lifting an eyebrow at that since it certainly had felt much different than then that to me. And when they checked me, I was right – there was what they described as a small tear and Billye felt it needed stitching. I had learned my lesson and very clearly told them that I wanted Billye to do it.
First though, they had Davey bring the baby in and let her latch and let me revel in her sweetness with Davey.
Heather, our birth photographer hadn’t arrived until after the placenta was already out. Poor woman ran out of gas and got lost. But I was so happy to see her taking lots of photos now. Even though she was friendly and unobtrusive, Sophia still gave her dirty looks and resisted any family photos with her in it. That’s our Sophia, I smiled and didn’t even care.
Misti gave the baby her newborn check while we all sat close and watched on. She weighed 7 lbs 4 oz and handled the checks without crying.
And here is where all the terrible adjectives want to come out again. I cannot believe how badly those stitches hurt. They assured me they had both sprayed a numbing agent and given me a numbing shot, but I tell you what I felt every single thing. I sobbed and sobbed and said “just get it over with” when they apologized that it shouldn’t be hurting. My face was a swollen mess and I felt like I was barely hanging on emotionally by the time they brought the baby back to me. My back had also gone into a terrible spasm while I tried to walk to the bathroom. It was like no other back pain I’d ever felt. Every single breath was…pain and more pain. I swallowed the max dosage of ibuprofen and cried inside.
I wanted to kiss the ground she walked on when Nathalie offered to take Sophia with her to her house. Sophia was already acting needy and on edge, and I felt a very heavy weight on my shoulders. All I wanted was to put my sweet baby to my breast and sleep for the next 20 hours.
This is what I wrote a couple weeks after the birth.
December 16th, 2010
The birth of this second daughter of mine was so different from the first. Most of the labor was much, much easier. For reasons that I'll have to write more about later, the end of it was much, much harder. I feel like I entered The World of Pain and Anguish during the last part of her birth and for the first couple days after she entered the world. This photo is hard for me to look at; a picture really is worth a thousand words.
The last stage of labor with Sophia was incredibly exhilarating. Wonderful. Satisfying. Fulfilling. And that feeling continued in full force for the first couple days after her birth.
I expected to find that zen, in-the-zone, time stops, "peace-in-the-midst-of-difficulty" that I felt with such intensity during the pushing stage of Sophia's labor. I expected to feel that most dramatic example of how God can consecrate any experience if I just give up my attempts to do it by myself.
But guess what? I didn't. And it sucked. Big time. I think I'd say I was more self-focused and miserable than I've ever been.
And I can't quite believe I'm saying this, but I'm already starting to appreciate the differences and she's only twelve days old. I thought it would take longer (much, much longer) but it's happening already - probably because this little gal is melting my heart.
In my day to day life, I'm always trying to figure out how to love where I'm at. How to feel grateful and peaceful in the midst of every experience God has allowed to cross my path, even the hard ones - whether the monotonous kind of hard or the dramatic kind of hard. I'm always upset at myself when I know I'm missing out on feeling God's grace because I'm too stubborn to receive it.
And when I saw these photos that were taken of the sunrise that came an hour after Joan entered this world, I realized what this labor, birth, and recovery has taught me.
If Sophia's birth taught me what it was like to lose myself in the service of another, then Joan's birth taught me that it's okay when I don't.
The sun will always rise.
