30 hours later

It began with a posterior baby (face up instead of face down), lots of back labor, and a plea for help.  When I arrived at their house, after driving 45 minutes up the canyon, she was clutching tightly to her sisters hand.  Her husband let me in.  I was the stand-in.  The other midwife busy with another birth.  It was the first time I had met her and instantly we were thrust into a relationship that had to be trusting.  I coaxed her to the bathroom where she could sit on the toilet, where we could be alone for a moment. She talked of being awake all night, of being tired and frustrated.  My hands holding hers, I talked about giving in. I talked about not being afraid, about breathing deeply, and letting go of all the tension.  Assurance, encouragement, strength.  Soon her breaths slowed.  Deep inhales, long exhales. Her shoulders released, her brow unfurrowed.  Calm. Two contractions passed.  Then a grunt.  And another.  And bigger grunts.  Then full force pushing.  I begged her to stop.  No breath holding.  Pant, pant like this "hee, hee, whoo, hee, hee whoo".  I had nothing with me.  Not a glove, not a doppler (to listen to baby), not a BP cuff, not an Oxygen tank.  Nothing.  Nothing but my thoughts screaming "I DO NOT WANT TO CATCH THIS BABY!" Off to the birth center, I jumped in the car with them.

Her husband drove us.  I was glad he knew the road so well.  He was calm and encouraging- oblivious, but calm.  I drew from that peace. I glanced about their car for warm blankets. Cell phones.  Gloves- why didn't I have gloves?!!  Panting, we were still panting.  She squeezed my hand, my wedding ring cut into my other fingers- their tips turning purple. I was telling her to hang on and telling myself that I could do this.  I didn't believe it, but I said it anyways.

After what seemed like and excruciating drive- we made it to the birth center.  Inside, on the bed.  Exam done. 3cm.  What?  Her cervix is dilated just to 3 flipping centimeters?  Where is the urge to push coming from? 

 

To the tub.  Warm Water.  Hopes of easing the pressure.  Hope of slowing down.  I left her with the midwife who was there now (thankfully!!)  I set up the oxygen.  Blankets were warming. Tools at the ready. Gloves in my pocket!  Listen with the doppler to baby.  Good.  Everything was ready and good.

 

The urge to push never went away.  Our mouths dry.  Our throats rough from the rapid movement of air.  We panted all together.  Cool washcloths.  Sips of juice.  Bites of yogurt. I brushed the hair from her face.  I pushed with pressure on her low back. Praise.  Heaps and heaps of praise for her efforts.  She was working so hard.  Such focus.

Hours and hours passed this way.  My stomach rumbled.  My head throbbed.  With pressure to her back, my arm quivered.  I focused in on her face, realizing that I had not yet see her eyes.  All this time and I had no idea what color her eyes were.  They were closed.  All I could see was her determination.

   

The magic measurement: 10 centimeters.  It was ours.  I never thought it would come.  Really, I didn't.  Finally, no more panting- just pushing.  Pushing and pushing and pushing.  I willed her to bring the baby down.  I willed her to make progress.  I was so invested...we/she had worked so hard to get here.

Will was not enough.  Want was not enough- hers or mine.  The baby wasn't moving down.  I watched her heart break as the midwife advised her.  It wasn't for a lack of effort.  It wasn't her failure.  The baby wasn't moving down.  They left for the hospital. A C-section.  Thirty hours of labor, billions of short panting breaths, thousands of "good jobs!" pounds and pounds of back counter-pressure, 10 huge centimeters...and that was it.  A C-section. 

Depleted. Disappointed. Emotionally exhausted. Hungry and tired. I drove home. I climbed into bed making peace.  I have been here before.  Healthy Baby. Healthy Mom. That was the goal.  We achieved it.   There are things in life that we just don't have control over.  Birth is one of them. 

A whole lot of happy

Yesterday afternoon I sat with Isaiah in his Mom's bedroom.  She was not there because she was in the bathroom, or the bathtub more specifically, laboring.  I had never met 4 year old Isaiah before, but in an instant we were friends.  I told him all about the special tools I brought with me to help get ready for his new baby.  He especially liked the "booger" machine (for suctioning baby).  He was nervous, I could tell, and flung around the room chattering on and on.  His sisters were in the front room watching Cinderella waiting for their Grandparents to come by to pick them up before all the action began. Isaiah was very informed.  He know just how the oxygen came out of the tank, what button turned on the "booger machine" and why I was warming baby blankets on a heating pad.  He even explained to me what a contraction was.  I was very impressed. 

Somewhere in the middle of all this discussion, he stopped in mid-sentence and turned towards the doorway.  He could see the TV from where he was sitting and suddenly became transfixed.  He said, "Wait, wait, don't talk.  This is my favorite part."  Being very familiar with the movie myself I asked about what part was playing.  His voice suddenly changed from a very excited, boisterous tone to a soft and dreamy one.  He said the end of the movie was his favorite part, (Cinderella and her Prince were marrying). I asked him why that part was his favorite and he so eloquently put it this way: "Because in the end there is a whole lot of happy".

Well it wasn't long before Isaiah and his sisters were whisked away by their Grandparents and his mother got right down to the business of having a baby.  She was on the bed now and starting to push.  I felt a little ho-hum about all of it and even found myself daydreaming a few times.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur.   I should leave out most of the details to protect the privacy of the family, but let's just say this baby proceeded to be born in a very unexpected and unconventional way for most home-births.  There were several very tense moments and for a few of them I wanted to run away.  Thankfully, I work beside a wonderful, experienced (25 years) Midwife who handled the situation beautifully.  It was tricky, but the baby came out...and his little cry (after 30 LONG seconds) was music to my ears.  After thorough inspection and without using the "booger machine" the baby was uninjured, pink and snuggling against his mother's warm chest.

 

As I drove home I couldn't help but replay the birth over and over again in my mind. I thanked God for hearing my desperate prayers during the scariest moments.  I also thanked Him for Isaiah and his sweet words that reminded me, "In the end there is a whole lot of happy."  

Waiting

It has been a very quiet summer for births so far.  In fact, the last birth I attended was the first week of June. Finally, today the call came at 11:30am, "she's brewing" said the Midwife.  "Brewing" is midwife-ease for "perhaps she might be heading into labor and so you might want to plan accordingly."   Not knowing when I would be needed on shorter notice I packed my bag and then waited for the next call.

All the essentials here (snacks, BP cuff, phone, notes/directions, camera bag, etc.). The only things missing are mints.  No one likes a birth assistant with dragon breath.  My watch is on the fritz so I snatched my husband's. I have to wear one to count heart rates- I am thinking that his will not fit well under my gloves.  I'll be sure to wipe of any amniotic fluid before I return it :)  Also on the fritz is my stomach...a little Imodiam AD to the rescue.  Yikes.

While waiting, I did other very responsible things like: fixing dinner early and putting it in the fridge to reheat later, attempting a short nap, a couple loads of laundry, programming the address (homebirth) into my GPS, shaving my armpits, and fishing out my scrubs and crocs. Mostly I just waited and waited some more. Sometimes I think I prefer the "middle-of-the-night-get-here-in-10-minutes!" kind of call.  I remind myself that one of the primary ingredients for natural birth is patience.

It is now 7pm and still no active labor. The poor mama has been ordered to choke down some castor oil. It probably won't be long now. I am crocheting these little flowers,

and waiting....

Hope to be back tomorrow with a birth story.