Zion Edward
It was just a few days after the New Year, and I was due shortly with our third child. I was ready--but desperately trying to expect to go late so as not to drive myself insane.
I was woke up around 12:30 in the morning (four days before my due date) because of a cry from one of our daughters. I got up to go and settle her back down. When I got back to bed, I realized I was having contractions. They were just about every 10 minutes, nothing to get too excited over, but they prevented me from going back to sleep. Just when I was about to nod off, I would have another contraction. I laid in bed for about an hour. I kept thinking in Bradley teacher mode. If I'm in early labor, I really should be vertical to try to get things to progress. Since I was not sleeping anyway, I decided to just get up and try to read for a bit. I sat in the recliner with my book. An hour later...still no change. Contractions every 10 minutes.
I realized that going into labor in the middle of the night really stinks. Seriously--if it was during the day, I would be going on with my normal routine. Not only would I be upright and walking around, but it would serve as a great distraction. Here I am...in the middle of the night. I'm tired. I don't want to walk around. But yet, I can't sleep. ...it was frustrating.
So around 2:45, I decided that being up was worthless; I went back to bed. As I settled back down, Paul woke. He was so mad when I was having contractions with our second child and didn't tell him--so I went ahead and told him that I was having contractions, but told him not to get too excited, as they were 10 minutes apart.
I still was unable to sleep. I got up to use the bathroom, and had two pretty intense contractions close together. Hm...that was different. I went back to bed. I couldn't get comfortable and was at a loss as to what to do. About 3:00 I tapped Paul on the shoulder and said that I wanted to pack the car. I wasn't ready to leave for the hospital yet, but thought maybe I would feel better knowing that everything was set and ready. We got up and started packing the last of our toiletries for our bags. Once I got up this time...things started moving. They weren't a whole lot closer together, maybe 6 or 7 minutes, but they were much more intense. I got down on my hands and knees and rocked through contractions.
In the middle of packing bags I grabbed the phone to call the midwife. When I got Sandy on the phone, I told her that I was having contractions--they weren't too close yet, but I wanted to get to the hospital early. We were only there for 29 minutes when my second daughter was born. I felt like I didn't have any time to get into my zone before she was born, and I wanted to try to avoid that if at all possible this time. Sandy made a comment about me having to excuse her " bed head," and we ended the call to head to the hospital.
Paul finished packing up the van and called his dad to come and stay with the girls. Once everything was set, contractions really picked up. They were only a minute or two apart and were pretty intense. Paul started freaking out a bit when he heard me grunting. Now we knew that it was "go" time. We decided to wait in the van for Paul's dad to arrive. I opened the passenger's door, took one look at the seat and knew that was not going to be a possibility. Instead I got in the middle of the van on my hands and knees between the bucket seats. We met Paul's dad at the end of the driveway and Paul sped off towards the hospital.
I knew that we were cutting it close. I was feeling nauseous, something that I never had with the girls, but I knew what that meant. I looked around the van and found a Walmart sack that I proceeded to keep my head in for the remainder of the drive. I was feeling small twinges of needing to push. I kept saying this mantra over and over: " I don't want to have the baby in the van...I don't want to have the baby in the van...I don't want to have the baby in the van. " (Ha!) I kept thinking that I was going to be the Bradley teacher who had her baby in the van...not cool.
Finally, we arrived at the hospital. Paul parked directly outside the doors, and we scurried inside. I had tunnel vision. I wanted Sandy. We got through the first set of double doors, but the second set wouldn't open up to let us into the hospital. There was no one inside. I keeled over on the floor and said, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to have the baby on this nasty carpet." (Ha!) Paul is freaking out. We found a red phone on the wall. The woman who answered told us that we were at the old ER entrance and would need to get in the car and drive around to the new entrance. (...not cool, I do not recommend going to the wrong entrance at 4 in the morning while in labor.) He tried to calmly tell the nice lady that we needed the doors open now because I was having a baby. Now freeze here for a moment. I'm sure this woman thought I was a first time, completely uneducated woman who had one contraction and started freaking out. She was not going to open the doors. Paul was, not so calmly, trying to get her to understand the situation, and she just kept repeating to him that he needed to drive to the other entrance. He yelled into the phone, " Fine! We'll just have the baby here! " and hung up. (so funny!)
I saw this wonderful nurse coming to our aid. She was coming in for her shift and asked if we needed any help. "YES! " I yelled. She went over and picked up the phone and tried to tell the woman that yes, we really did need the doors open. Paul grabbed a wheelchair and I sat with my knees in the seat and my body up and over the back of the chair. When it was clear that she wouldn't be opening the doors for us, the nurse went ahead and opened them herself and then called up to the OB floor while Paul took off running--and run, he did. He was holding my shoulders so I wouldn't fly off. ...great fun.
As we exited the elevator and went around the curve, I heard Sandy. I have never been so happy to hear her voice! She and a nurse (Jenny) were on their way down to come and get us. We went directly into our room. I stepped down off of the wheelchair, and my water broke. The nurse took off my pants, and I climbed onto the bed. Paul told the nurse how I wanted the bed broken down, and I got on my hands and my knees, hugging the back of the bed, (same position as I did with the girls) and Sandy said that I could push if I felt the urge. (It's funny--looking back, I have almost no visual recollection of this--I only remember sounds.) I began pushing immediately and several pushes later Paul caught our baby!
At this point, I completely collapsed; I just wanted to lie down. It didn't even occur to me to ask if it was a boy or a girl! Paul took a peek and said, "It's Zion! " We arrived at our room at 4:09 a.m., and Zion was born 7 minutes later.
We brought him up to my chest to begin breastfeeding. I remember my arms feeling like jelly and having a hard time concentrating on holding him because I just wanted to lie there and relax. We were able to let his cord continue pulsing; about five minutes later it stopped and Paul cut the cord.
Sandy showed us the placenta. I've seen so many in videos but never really looked at ours either of the other times. It was neat to see the real thing.
The staff was all really great. We were able to just hang out and snuggle and get to know our new little guy. They had no problems waiting to do procedures for awhile. Paul eventually left to go move the van. Some nurses came in and filled out forms that were supposed to be filled out prior to the birth. Everyone had a good laugh about how quickly he came.
Looking back, I am in awe of my body's instincts. After my trip to the bathroom at 2:45 in the morning, I was unable to settle down. I didn't know why, I didn't know what to do, but I wanted the car packed. That was my motherly intuition kicking in. Once everything was set, bags packed, midwife called, grandpa on the way--my contractions went from 6 to 7 minutes apart to 1 to 2 minutes apart. My body knew that everything was ready; it was time. Then in the van I was going through transition-- grunting, needing to push--but my body held off until we arrived at our birth place. Then as soon as we arrive at our room my water breaks and I begin pushing. How perfect. How smart my body is to know exactly what I needed--more so than I am even aware of. It really makes you surrender to the process.
I guess it just goes to show that you can't plan birth. Things did not go as expected. I wanted to arrive early this time so that I could hang out in the tub and relax quietly on the bed with pillows and music. That definitely did not happen. I really wanted to give birth in a different position, since my first two were both hands and knees--again, that didn't happen. But what was most important in the end, is that when he was ready, everything was in place and we were able to have the natural birth that we had been working toward...and a little added adventure as well.
I was woke up around 12:30 in the morning (four days before my due date) because of a cry from one of our daughters. I got up to go and settle her back down. When I got back to bed, I realized I was having contractions. They were just about every 10 minutes, nothing to get too excited over, but they prevented me from going back to sleep. Just when I was about to nod off, I would have another contraction. I laid in bed for about an hour. I kept thinking in Bradley teacher mode. If I'm in early labor, I really should be vertical to try to get things to progress. Since I was not sleeping anyway, I decided to just get up and try to read for a bit. I sat in the recliner with my book. An hour later...still no change. Contractions every 10 minutes.
I realized that going into labor in the middle of the night really stinks. Seriously--if it was during the day, I would be going on with my normal routine. Not only would I be upright and walking around, but it would serve as a great distraction. Here I am...in the middle of the night. I'm tired. I don't want to walk around. But yet, I can't sleep. ...it was frustrating.
So around 2:45, I decided that being up was worthless; I went back to bed. As I settled back down, Paul woke. He was so mad when I was having contractions with our second child and didn't tell him--so I went ahead and told him that I was having contractions, but told him not to get too excited, as they were 10 minutes apart.
I still was unable to sleep. I got up to use the bathroom, and had two pretty intense contractions close together. Hm...that was different. I went back to bed. I couldn't get comfortable and was at a loss as to what to do. About 3:00 I tapped Paul on the shoulder and said that I wanted to pack the car. I wasn't ready to leave for the hospital yet, but thought maybe I would feel better knowing that everything was set and ready. We got up and started packing the last of our toiletries for our bags. Once I got up this time...things started moving. They weren't a whole lot closer together, maybe 6 or 7 minutes, but they were much more intense. I got down on my hands and knees and rocked through contractions.
In the middle of packing bags I grabbed the phone to call the midwife. When I got Sandy on the phone, I told her that I was having contractions--they weren't too close yet, but I wanted to get to the hospital early. We were only there for 29 minutes when my second daughter was born. I felt like I didn't have any time to get into my zone before she was born, and I wanted to try to avoid that if at all possible this time. Sandy made a comment about me having to excuse her " bed head," and we ended the call to head to the hospital.
Paul finished packing up the van and called his dad to come and stay with the girls. Once everything was set, contractions really picked up. They were only a minute or two apart and were pretty intense. Paul started freaking out a bit when he heard me grunting. Now we knew that it was "go" time. We decided to wait in the van for Paul's dad to arrive. I opened the passenger's door, took one look at the seat and knew that was not going to be a possibility. Instead I got in the middle of the van on my hands and knees between the bucket seats. We met Paul's dad at the end of the driveway and Paul sped off towards the hospital.
I knew that we were cutting it close. I was feeling nauseous, something that I never had with the girls, but I knew what that meant. I looked around the van and found a Walmart sack that I proceeded to keep my head in for the remainder of the drive. I was feeling small twinges of needing to push. I kept saying this mantra over and over: " I don't want to have the baby in the van...I don't want to have the baby in the van...I don't want to have the baby in the van. " (Ha!) I kept thinking that I was going to be the Bradley teacher who had her baby in the van...not cool.
Finally, we arrived at the hospital. Paul parked directly outside the doors, and we scurried inside. I had tunnel vision. I wanted Sandy. We got through the first set of double doors, but the second set wouldn't open up to let us into the hospital. There was no one inside. I keeled over on the floor and said, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to have the baby on this nasty carpet." (Ha!) Paul is freaking out. We found a red phone on the wall. The woman who answered told us that we were at the old ER entrance and would need to get in the car and drive around to the new entrance. (...not cool, I do not recommend going to the wrong entrance at 4 in the morning while in labor.) He tried to calmly tell the nice lady that we needed the doors open now because I was having a baby. Now freeze here for a moment. I'm sure this woman thought I was a first time, completely uneducated woman who had one contraction and started freaking out. She was not going to open the doors. Paul was, not so calmly, trying to get her to understand the situation, and she just kept repeating to him that he needed to drive to the other entrance. He yelled into the phone, " Fine! We'll just have the baby here! " and hung up. (so funny!)
I saw this wonderful nurse coming to our aid. She was coming in for her shift and asked if we needed any help. "YES! " I yelled. She went over and picked up the phone and tried to tell the woman that yes, we really did need the doors open. Paul grabbed a wheelchair and I sat with my knees in the seat and my body up and over the back of the chair. When it was clear that she wouldn't be opening the doors for us, the nurse went ahead and opened them herself and then called up to the OB floor while Paul took off running--and run, he did. He was holding my shoulders so I wouldn't fly off. ...great fun.
As we exited the elevator and went around the curve, I heard Sandy. I have never been so happy to hear her voice! She and a nurse (Jenny) were on their way down to come and get us. We went directly into our room. I stepped down off of the wheelchair, and my water broke. The nurse took off my pants, and I climbed onto the bed. Paul told the nurse how I wanted the bed broken down, and I got on my hands and my knees, hugging the back of the bed, (same position as I did with the girls) and Sandy said that I could push if I felt the urge. (It's funny--looking back, I have almost no visual recollection of this--I only remember sounds.) I began pushing immediately and several pushes later Paul caught our baby!
At this point, I completely collapsed; I just wanted to lie down. It didn't even occur to me to ask if it was a boy or a girl! Paul took a peek and said, "It's Zion! " We arrived at our room at 4:09 a.m., and Zion was born 7 minutes later.
We brought him up to my chest to begin breastfeeding. I remember my arms feeling like jelly and having a hard time concentrating on holding him because I just wanted to lie there and relax. We were able to let his cord continue pulsing; about five minutes later it stopped and Paul cut the cord.
Sandy showed us the placenta. I've seen so many in videos but never really looked at ours either of the other times. It was neat to see the real thing.
The staff was all really great. We were able to just hang out and snuggle and get to know our new little guy. They had no problems waiting to do procedures for awhile. Paul eventually left to go move the van. Some nurses came in and filled out forms that were supposed to be filled out prior to the birth. Everyone had a good laugh about how quickly he came.
Looking back, I am in awe of my body's instincts. After my trip to the bathroom at 2:45 in the morning, I was unable to settle down. I didn't know why, I didn't know what to do, but I wanted the car packed. That was my motherly intuition kicking in. Once everything was set, bags packed, midwife called, grandpa on the way--my contractions went from 6 to 7 minutes apart to 1 to 2 minutes apart. My body knew that everything was ready; it was time. Then in the van I was going through transition-- grunting, needing to push--but my body held off until we arrived at our birth place. Then as soon as we arrive at our room my water breaks and I begin pushing. How perfect. How smart my body is to know exactly what I needed--more so than I am even aware of. It really makes you surrender to the process.
I guess it just goes to show that you can't plan birth. Things did not go as expected. I wanted to arrive early this time so that I could hang out in the tub and relax quietly on the bed with pillows and music. That definitely did not happen. I really wanted to give birth in a different position, since my first two were both hands and knees--again, that didn't happen. But what was most important in the end, is that when he was ready, everything was in place and we were able to have the natural birth that we had been working toward...and a little added adventure as well.
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Zion Edward January 6, 2011 8 pounds, 7.5 ounces 20 inches "There is power that comes to women when they give birth. They don't ask for it, it simply invades them." ~Sheryl Feldman |
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