Taryn’s Birth – Part Four

Part One Two and Three…

Well, where did we leave off? It was the hour between 2 and 3 am, after paging my midwife, waiting for she and her student to arrive. Taryn (yes, our midwife shares a name with our baby – I'll get there eventually...) arrived right around 3:00 on the dot. My mother and father in law also pulled in right around this time. I can't quite remember who was first. Taryn quickly busied herself setting up after chatting with me for a quick second. I remember feeling like she seemed very business like and efficient, much less laid back than usual, but I think in retrospect I can now see that she knew she best get herself prepared to welcome a baby into the world in a short time. She told me after the birth that based on my composure when she walked in the door, I could have been a 4 or I could have been a 10 – that it hardly seemed like I was phased by the labour, but that she was fairly confident in the noises I was making and the way I was breathing that after seeing me give birth twice before, I was nearly there. I remember expressing my concern to her about being fearful that I wasn't progressing very far and she just calmly told me, “We'll check in a bit and see what we can do”.

Her student arrived a few moments after she did and together they finished all the set up. Fiona did all the necessary checking of my vitals and listening to the baby, I'm not sure how many times, but at some points during it all.

I heard her ask Taryn “Are we even going to check her?”. Taryn said, “I don't need to but I think she really wants to know”. My mom also told me later that based on seeing me give birth twice before she knew this was the end, simply because of the way I was breathing and moaning.

One thing that was so very different about this labour (aside from everything) is how I coped and managed the contractions. I have oodles of “labouring” photos from both Evalyn and Gwen's birth – me on the ball, Evan and I walking around, me zoned out laying in bed – this time, I have one photo of the labour process and it is not appropriate for the public eye. The thing is, I just laboured on my own. I laid in bed the entire night until 3 am and even after that, I wasn't doing all of those things that had helped me coped the first two times around. My mom and MIL were hardly in the room this time, I didn't use Evan for support until 2 am and it was just so – different, all together.

While Taryn and her student were setting up, most of my contractions happened while I was laying in bed or standing up with my arms resting on Evan's tall dresser. He kept encouraging me to sit back onto the birth ball to relax, but I just couldn't. For some reason, my body wanted to stand up and sink down into the contractions. I would stand up facing his dresser with my arms crossed on top of it, praying and silently working my way through each contraction.

Just like always, he was the most amazing partner. Any time he saw me slipping away during one of the contractions, he brought me right back down … encouraging me to follow my body, to sink into the contractions, to relax and let it out through my toes. If my face scrunched up, he urged me to relax my shoulders. If he saw me clench my bum, he reminded me to let my legs go free. Without him, I would have never managed.

It was about 3:40 when Taryn and Fiona were done setting up and told me they would go ahead and check me. Fiona was the one to do the exam, said everything was nice and soft and that the baby's head was really low. She said she figured I was about an 8. Eight. Okay, yes. I could handle that for sure. Later we were told that Fiona was fairly certain I was actually complete during that check, but didn't want to say so in case she was mistaken. When the membranes are still intact, sometimes it is difficult for them to fully check dilation all the way around the back, and so she couldn't be sure if there was any remaining cervix to dilate.

Taryn asked me if I would like her to double check Fiona's assessment and also see if she thought that breaking my water would be a feasible option to help things move along as quickly as possible. I said yes, I'd like that but that I needed a break between exams to work through a few more contractions and then she could check. She agreed.

About two contractions later, I had the strangest sensation that I can't even describe. Something between pressure and pain and then suddenly, relief. My water broke. Taryn joked later that I had now done labour almost every possible way – during Eva's labour, they artificially ruptured my membranes when I was 7cm. During Gwen's labour, my water broke spontaneously before contractions. And this time, my water broke near the end on its own. Another contraction, and another little gush. I cannot even describe the amount of relief this gave me. It was as though I was suddenly weightless, the whole midsection of my body felt as though it immediately dropped and was no longer causing discomfort.

I remember saying to Evan, at some point, whether it was now or not doesn't matter, I suppose, that I couldn't believe we'd be meeting our baby. And soon. So soon. Assuming we still had 2cm of progress to make, Evan asked if I'd like to move around a bit and go wash off in the shower before the big show. That sounded like a comforting idea to me, so I asked Taryn, “Are you still checking me?” “No, there's no reason to now”. “Is it okay if we have a shower?” “Yes, but it will have to be quick”. Later she told me she wanted to laugh and say, “There's no way you'll make it to the shower”, but of course, she refrained and just let us do our thing.

Now, brace yourself because this is where things start to get crazy. One of the strangest things about this labour to me is having no idea how/when/how fast my progress was made. Since Fiona's check was my only internal check, I have no gauge to know how my dilation occurred. Was I consistently dilating all through the night Friday and the day Saturday? Or were those contractions for practice? Did most of the dilation occur in those last hours/minutes? Of course, I'll never know.

So, Evan got his shorts ready to get into the shower with me and between contractions, helped me ease my legs off the edge of my bed. I put my arm around his shoulder and stood up to make my way to the bathroom.

I can't even remember what it felt like or how I knew. I just remember saying, “Uhhh, umm, baby!” And it's a good thing his instincts kicked into gear, because he placed his hand down between my legs and said, “The baby's head is out!” And he wasn't talking about a little bit of crowning. When he reached down, he was holding our child's head in his hand. He quickly, very quickly, eased (or maybe it was more of a forceful push) me back onto the bed. He said as he did so, he saw the baby's head go back up a little. When I fell back to lean against my pillows, I missed the pillows and laid flat on my back and as soon as I did so, her head was out again. He and my mother and mother-in-law all started cheering, “baby! There's the baby!”, I immediately reached down and could feel her. I could feel her face, her nose, a head full of hair. I took one more deep breath in and as I exhaled, my baby was earth side. Taryn didn't even have a chance to pull on a pair of gloves. Instead, she sat back and watched as she let my husband deliver his baby. We have one photo that we absolutely love that shows him delivering her, with Fiona racing to get gloves on and Taryn sitting back with a huge grin on her face. She knew he had it under control.

When she came out, I was immediately thanking God and reaching down to lift her to my chest. Evan could see that she was quite pretzeled up in her cord – which was once around her neck and twice around her legs - so together he and Taryn got her all straightened out. When I lifted her up, he (or maybe someone else) said, “Well, take a look”. I looked and saw that I was holding in my arms my third, beautiful baby daughter.

More tears. More praise. There is nothing in my life that could ever top the moments that I have met my girls. There is no time in my life that I feel more closely linked with my creator and more in awe of God's work.

I told the room that we had another beautiful baby girl. My mother-in-law asked if this beautiful baby girl had a name. I looked at our fabulous midwife and said, “Yes. Her name is Taryn Ruth”. Evan and I had decided a few months back that if we had another girl and we were blessed enough to have Taryn as our attending midwife at the birth again (she has been at the birth of all of our children) we would name her Taryn. There couldn't be a more fitting name.

The next few moments were spent with me snuggling this tiny human that God has so graciously entrusted me with. I spent those moments taking in every little bit of her. Her jet black hair (explains the 700 bottles of Tums), her tiny fingers and her tiny toes. Another beautiful girl. A baby sister for my children. The most beautiful blessing.

The final piece of my puzzle.

Taryn’s Birth – Part 3

Click for Part One and Part Two of her story…

Once I laid down around 9:00 on Saturday evening, I was going between keeping an eye on the clock and drifting to sleep between contractions that were coming at – you guessed it – around 10 minutes apart. But suddenly, around 10pm, I jolted upright with a start and thought, something is different. I still don't even know exactly what happened. I'm not sure if I had fallen into a deep sleep and a heavy contraction woke me or what. But as I stood up, I felt shaky and queasy and all together different than I had throughout the whole ordeal. I went out and said to Evan, “This is it. And if it's not, I don't know what I'll do”. He ran me a bath and while I worked through a few contractions in the water, we decided it was time to call his parents to begin their venture from Michigan, where they were visiting his oldest sister and time to take the kids to Marcia and Linda's for the night. We woke my parents up, got things packed up for the girls and sent them off with my Dad. As I kissed their sleepy, groggy little lips goodbye, I got a little teary, thinking about how it was more than likely that their little lives would never be the same from that moment on. After Dad took off with them, Evan, Mom and I worked at bringing up the birth supplies, making the bed in preparation for the birth and getting everything else set back up. And as you can imagine, throughout all this hustle and bustle, the contractions all but disappeared.

It was about 11pm when we climbed back into bed and I can honestly say that the next few hours were so beyond bizarre to me. This experience was nothing like either of my first two. I spent the next hours, until 2am, drifting into a deep, deep sleep in between the most difficult and intense contractions I had ever felt in my life. I was trying to time them to see if there was a pattern, but I just couldn't stay awake. At times, I would look at my stop watch and see that 23 minutes had passed. But I had absolutely no conscious recollection of what had happened in those 23 minutes. I didn't know if I was sleeping through contractions or if 23 minutes was really passing without a contraction. In between this groggy haze of sleep and the contractions that I was present for, I was also taking multiple trips to the washroom, losing more mucous and feeling intense pressure in my bum, signaling I needed to have a bowel movement, but never having anything happen.

At 2 am, things were getting to be too much for me to handle. I still didn't think I was anywhere close to the end because I was trying to think too textbook, waiting for the “closer together” component to strike. I woke Evan and said, “I think I need to page the midwives. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this without knowing if/how much progress I am making”. I was so fearful that after all of these hours and all of this work, I would still be sitting at 2cm – and that was a thought I just couldn't bear to entertain. Evan immediately got his phone out and said, “Just wait. I really don't think I'm close enough to page. Give me another half hour and let's see what happens”. Apparently his instinct is stronger than mine because he said, “No. I am paging right now. I'd rather not deliver this baby alone”.

So, I paged. Within moments, my primary midwife, Taryn called me back with her student, Fiona, on the line. Thanks to my mother, I have a habit of being unable to sit still while on the phone, so as soon as we started chatting, I started moving around. Of course, I wasn't paying entirely close attention at the time but later I looked back and realized that in our 9 minute conversation, I had 4 very long, very difficult contractions. Taryn told me, “We are coming to you. Now. If you aren't close to the end, we will see what we can do to speed things up. Until we get there, I want you laying on your side in bed or in the tub. If you are on the toilet and you feel pressure, get to bed and lay down. I want you resting as much as possible, even if the contractions slow down, we will see what's going on when we get there”. Since we moved to a new area, it would take them longer to get to me than it did at past births so she also told me that if anything changed in the next 45-50 minutes while I waited for her to call her back right away. Later, she told me that from the first few minutes of our conversation, she knew we would have a baby soon.

In the hour between 2-3, while I waited for her and her student to arrive, things changed drastically. The feeling of the contractions, the speed, the intensity – everything. Of course, my mind kept drifting to “what if this isn't it? What if I still have hours and hours ahead of me?” I tried not (unsuccessfully) to let myself think of the magic number of how far I hoped I'd be, but really, I know I wanted to be at least 7cm. And although the fear of not having progressed was there, somewhere deep inside my mind I knew I had. I had been here twice before. I knew these feelings. My body's memory was jogged in a big way. I could feel it. I was in transition...

Taryn’s Birth – Part 2

If you recall from part one, I tucked myself into bed around 10pm on Friday May 16th, 6 days past my due date, after having contractions 10-15 minutes apart for about 5 hours, wondering if there would be a baby in my arms by sunrise.

The next thing I knew, I woke with a start, sat up and looked at the clock. The amount of discouragement and disappointment I felt when I saw that it was 1 am was indescribable. Three hours had passed where I had slept soundly, without feeling a single contraction. Did that mean they had stopped? Were they just weak enough that I wasn't feeling them? What was going on? I rolled over, trying to let myself get back to sleep. But of course, the mind games began and I was laying wide awake, waiting, more like hoping, for another contraction to come. Surely what I had felt the night before wasn't more false labour? After about 20 minutes, I decided to take some Tylenol, in hopes of it helping me ease back into sleep and get as much rest as I could. But, my body had different plans. There was not much rest left in store for me that night. At 1:30, the contractions started up once again, still remaining at 10-15, sometimes even 20 minutes apart. But they were definitely stronger and more intense than what I had been feeling in the evening.

I was also finding myself up and in the washroom quite a bit, losing more and more of my mucous plug and feeling more “poop like” pressure all through the night. Thankfully, despite the intensity of the contractions, the space between them allowed me to rest as much as I could, sometimes falling asleep during the break. I found that there were times I would go a big long stretch, even up to 30 minutes, without a contraction, but almost always, as soon as I shifted positions or stood up, a contraction would immediately follow. I battled so much with myself through the night, as well as through the rest of my labour, about what to do about this. Keep moving in hopes of speeding things up or take advantage of the opportunity to rest during the gap? In the end, my exhaustion prevailed, and I stayed in bed as much as possible, hoping that if this was the real deal my body would do its job regardless of whether I was standing up or laying down.

Of course, morning quickly came and there had been no change in the pattern of my contractions. Still coming. Still intense. Still hard. But no pattern in terms of timing. We've all heard the whole magic “longer, stronger, closer together” trifecta. Well, I felt like I had the longer, stronger down pat but the closer together was just not happening.

I got up earlier than anyone else in the house and started making breakfast. As I was laying bacon out on a pan, I had to stop a few times and gaze out the window while I worked through contractions. This was the kind of thing that continued on throughout the day. During breakfast, my mom and Evan and I all kind of predicted we'd see a baby by evening. Even Evan said something about how having a labour/delivery all throughout the day would be different for us. We were really starting to think this was it. I decided to have a relaxing bath to see if it would make any change to the pattern of things. It was super relaxing, as the girls both insisted on climbing on in with me!

I texted Marcia and Linda to tell them what had been happening through the night and that morning. They offered to come get the girls but again, I decided to just keep them around in order to prevent moving too soon. The rest of the morning was basically business as usual. My mom and I worked on some laundry, we played outside with the kids, went to see the horses … all the while, with contractions coming at every 10-15 minutes, but no change. Around 11, I started to feel so tired, so I laid down for a rest. I chilled out for about 40 minutes, without a single contraction coming. Again, enter disappointment. My baby was never, ever coming out.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty quiet. I rested, having a few contractions but nothing serious. It was raining when the girls woke up from their naps, so more outside play was out of the question. Around 4, I told Evan I wanted to go into town to do some walking around stores, just to keep myself moving and see if things might lead anywhere. We grabbed a coffee, walked around Canadian Tire, and grabbed a few groceries. A few contractions, more mucous plug and a near attack by two dogs tied up outside Food Basics later and we came home to find freshly baked cookies made by the girls and Nana. My dad had also arrived from the cottage while we were gone, so we all enjoyed dinner together without any serious action.

After dinner, I noticed the contractions starting to pick up in intensity again – but like before, no change in distance apart. We were able to get back outside for a little while and I decided to take matters into my own hands as I climbed onto the 4 wheeler. I had been bugging Evan for weeks to take me for a spin but we never had actually done it. So, up I climbed and started (very slowly) riding down the lane. I looked back to see my Dad laughing as I had to stop and breath my way through another contraction while sitting on the 4 wheeler.

We got the kids to bed, again deciding to leave them at home because there was no amount of confidence that tonight would be the night and settled in to watch some TV. At some point in the evening, I told Evan that if I got to morning like this – with these tough contractions and no sign of speeding up – I was going to page the midwife in the morning, hopeful that she would be able to come and perhaps give me another membrane sweep or something, anything, to speed things up. I was getting discouraged and tired, not knowing if all of this work I had already been doing was getting me anywhere. Just before 9 I decided to call it a night, knowing that if morning came and there had been no changes, I was not going to be a happy camper. I laid down in bed and spent some time in prayer, asking God to grant me wisdom and discernment, to keep my baby safe and healthy and to bring her to us soon. Little did I know what this night had in store for my family...

Taryn’s Birth – Part 1

Even though I seem to have kind of given up blogging (don't worry – pregnancy #3 is documented, I just didn't bother posting them here), there is absolutely no way that I could ever let the birth story of one of my babies be left untold. So, here we are.

Where exactly do you start when recounting the birth of a baby? I feel like these stories always begin long before the actual labour begins. So, I'm warning you from the get go. This will be lengthy. And wordy. And full of details that may or may not seem important. But to me, it's all the necessary details in the beautiful God written story that brings us to Taryn. So sit back and enjoy.

There was a lot of impatience and struggle at the end of my pregnancy. Despite being five days overdue with the girls, I somehow let myself believe that maybe this one would be different. Well, was this one ever different – just maybe not in the way I had hoped. I held my composure together rather well when my due date came and went – I guess I wasn't naïve enough to believe that I would be early, but as I got closer and closer to the magic 40w4 and 40w5 (I went into labor at 40w4 and gave birth at 40w5 to both older girls) I started to get antsy. In my head, I guess I just assumed those would be the days.

On my due date, I had a scheduled midwife appointment at which they (both my primary midwife Taryn and the student, Fiona) checked me, determined I was 2cm dilated and stripped my membranes. Taryn told me she wouldn't bet money that I'd have my baby that night but assured me it would be coming soon. Of course, because time was slowly creeping away from us we had to start talking about back up plans for organizational purposes. Especially because we were leading into a long weekend. I was booked for and ultrasound and biophysical profile for Tuesday morning and from there, we would discuss plans for inducing if we ended up making it to 42 weeks. Of course, I kept reminding myself that 8 more days was an eternity in baby birthing days and there was tons of time. However, in the back of my mind, the fear was always there of what if my body didn't do its job this time. What if. I kept praying that God would help me to be patient and at peace with His timing. But really, I know the back of my mind was saying, “Let me trust Your timing, God, but hey, today is a great day to have a baby!”

Despite knowing and experiencing twice before that things could go from nothing to something in an instant, I was starting to feel defeated. Over the course of the day Thursday, I hoped that the membrane strip would start to get things moving but aside from some minor mucous and blood, there didn't seem to be much action.

The good thing was, by lunchtime on Thursday Nana arrived and informed us she was parking her butt until the baby arrived. I kept telling our baby that now that Nana was here, we were good to go! Yet still, Thursday passed with no action at all.

Friday morning, we got up and decided to take the girls swimming at the Y for the morning. We had a fun morning in the pool, followed by a special McDonald's breakfast treat and grocery shopping. The afternoon was spent napping and playing outside, with Dana, Cindy and Lochlan joining us for dinner in the evening. Shortly after they arrived, around 5pm, I started to feel some mild contractions. Of course, I had been feeling mild contractions for weeks and weeks, so they were nothing to get excited over. But as the evening progressed, they started to change and my body's memory started to be jogged, thinking “Hm I think I remember this. I think this is different”. A few times through the evening, during dinner and clean up afterward, I found myself needing to stop to take a breath as I zoned myself out through a contraction. There didn't seem to be any pattern, though, so I just kept on keeping on, but told Cindy to sleep with her phone volume turned up, just in case. I wasn't sure if I should send the kids away for bedtime, and in the end decided not to. I just didn't want to do it preemptively because I didn't want them to have to spend more than the necessary time away from home, and I just wasn't quite confident enough at that point. We spent the evening moseying around home, all the while I was having contractions anywhere from 10-25 minutes apart. But again, nothing to get too excited about. I had a bath and they were fairly steady. Around 9:30, I decided to call it a night. I had a few more as I laid in bed and drifted off to sleep around 10, wondering if there might just be a baby in my arms by morning...

a birth revisited

In honour of my first born’s approaching birthday, this week will be dedicated to her. All things her. And to start it off today, I’m looking back on the day she was born. The most perfect, most wonderful, most beautiful day she was born.

Many of you were around two years ago and may remember the day she was born. But, some of you were not. And some of you may be birth story junkies like me, while some of you are not. So, if you’re interested – here’s her story once again….

~~~

As I look back on the events leading up to the birth of my sweet girl, I am filled with awe at just how perfect it all was. When I wrote last week that God had picked the perfect birthday for my baby, I didn't know just how true that was.

I will begin her story on the morning of September 21st, 2010. This was the second of two days that I had predicted she would be born on (the first was September 14th, which had long since passed).

The Dude had to do some work in the morning in the area of the city that is close to my midwife clinic and I was scheduled to have an appointment at 11 am so we decided to head in together, and I would wait for him while he worked, then we could kill time together and head to the appointment.

He finished worked, we headed to Tim Horton's for some coffee, apple cider, and a biscuit and then killed a few hours at the mall where we picked up some cutes for the baby and a birthday present for the BFF. Soon, it was time to head to the clinic. I was anticipating that my midwife was going to sweep my membranes and was hopeful that it would get things moving. As I mentioned before, I was beginning to have this sinking fear that I would never go into labor and was dreading the possibility of induction.

When we got into the office and she asked how I was feeling I did not hesitate to say, "Alright, do we get to do a stretch and sweep?"

You cannot imagine my disappointment when she said, "I'm sorry, we can't do a sweep today because Carrie (the on-call midwife this week) is at another birth". Even though they know I could have easily went into labor on my own, they don't like to set themselves up for having two simultaneous births, which I could understand. Yet, I was still sorely disappointed. She checked everything out, and told me that I could come back the next morning and we would do it then.

As soon as we left and reached the truck, I broke down in tears. I started sobbing. The Dude reassured me that it was okay, the baby would still be here soon, and we'd try again tomorrow. I told him I wanted to punch the lady who was in labour in the head.

I called my mom and told her what I thought was the bad news. We stopped at the pharmacy (oh, did I mention I also woke up that morning with a sore throat that was on it's way to turning into a full blown cough and cold?), and then headed home where the Dude fixed lunch for the two of us.

Immediately after lunch, I crashed in bed and slept for a good few hours. Little did I know how much I would value those few hours of sleep! When I woke up around 3 pm, we headed out to go for a big walk in the woods where the Dude hunts. During our walk, I started to notice some cramping that felt a little bit different than what I had been feeling in the past week or so. I didn't say anything to the Dude, of course, because there was no way that I could possibly be in labor for real.

By 4 pm, the cramps were definitely changing and I was pretty certain that they were real contractions and this was early labor. I still didn't say anything to the Dude, I had long since learned better than to get myself hopeful when "I thought something might be happening". After our walk, we stopped to rent a few movies and headed home where I fixed chicken, black bean and pepper quesadillas for supper.

While I was cooking supper, the contractions kept coming, each one feeling a little stronger and a little longer. I was getting hopeful, waiting for that magical longer, stronger, closer together trifecta.

We spent the evening watching a movie and skyping with a few family members, while I found myself getting in and out of the bath tub a number of times, feeling like this must be it. Around 9:30 pm, I said to the Dude, "I sure hope this is labor because if it is not ... I am a major wuss".

He said, "You're not being a wuss. You're doing fine. But let's try to take it easy and take it one step at a time".

I got out of the bath around 9:30 after half heartedly timing a few contractions. I wasn't paying super close attention, but I figured that they were coming somewhere between 6 and 8 minutes apart so I decided to call my mom.

Of course, her bags had been packed for weeks so I told her to get to bed and rest because hopefully she would be getting a call in the night telling her it was time. She asked me when I started feeling contractions and nearly blew a gasket when she found out I had been having them since 3 pm and hadn't called her. She said "How close are they? Are they 15 minutes or less? Because, if so, I'm coming now". I lied to my Mama. I said "Oh I don't think they are that close. You don't need to leave just yet". At this point, I was still so uncertain whether or not this was the real deal and I didn't want them to make the two hour drive if I wasn't sure.

She made me promise that if I had 6 contractions within the next hour I would call her. I had way more than six contractions. I didn't call her.

At 10:30, we got serious about spending a good half hour timing things and discovered that they were coming consistently at 6 minutes apart, lasting anywhere from 35-65 seconds each. At 11 pm, I took my midwives advice, and took the magical cocktail consisting of tylonel, gravol, and a warm bath and headed to bed.

Over the next few hours, the Dude was able to sleep quite a bit and I was able to relax and drift to sleep between contractions (and warm baths). The contractions were steady but they weren't hard to deal with on my own. I knew I wanted to get through as much as I could on my own so the Dude could save his energy. I also knew we were in for the long haul so I might as well ignore it the best I could for as long as possible.

At 2 am, I felt like things were certainly picking up so I woke the Dude up and asked him to help me time the contractions. By 2:45, we realized they were coming 3-4 minutes apart.

We knew then that it was showtime, so we called Nana and Papa and told them to get in the car and get their butts over here! We were going to have a baby….

Click here to keep reading… Part Two, Three, Four.

Happy Birthday Gwennie–part 5–the final chapter. Finally

(Part One Two Three Four)

By now we had reached about 5 am, and everyone thought we were getting quite close to show time. The secondary midwife had arrived. Taryn told me she called her a little earlier than normal, because she was that confident that this baby would be here soon.

About this same time, my head started playing tricks on me. Looking back, I think it’s safe to say that she probably would have been born earlier but psychologically, I let things get away from me and started playing mind games with myself. First of all, I started watching the clock. I was nervous about not giving birth before Evalyn woke up and that the closer we got to her normal wake up time, the lighter her sleep would be, and the more likely that the commotion and the noise I was making would wake her up. Needless to say, I did not need to be anxious about these things (here I go again with always needing to be in control of things that are out of my control).

My mom knew that this was a worry of mine, so around 5:30, she whispered in my ear that my Dad had arrived and was parked in the truck outside, just waiting to whisk her away in the event that Evalyn woke up. Yet still, for some reason, I kept thinking in my head that I had to get this done before she woke up.

Along with this, as my labour got more and more intense and I knew we were getting close to the finish line, I just wanted to be done. During Evalyn’s birth, once I made it through transition and had reached completion, I only had to push for 20 minutes before she was born. I envisioned this baby’s birth to be similar. And, so, I kept telling myself that once I started pushing, it would be over. I would be done. My baby would be here.

It was these thoughts that really started tripping me up. It was as though I was willing my body to be ready to push. Thinking that I could make myself be ready. If my body told me it was time to push, it would be time to push and this pain would be over.

So, as soon as I felt the pressure increasing and felt the slightest urge to push, I told my midwives I thought I was ready. They told me to listen to my body and if it was telling me it was time to push, then we would try pushing.

I got back to the bed and got in the same position I delivered Evalyn in – on my hands and knees. Again, I envisioned this working again just as it had for her. I pushed a few times but I could just tell that it was ineffective. I knew what my pushes should feel like if they were going to bring my baby out and I knew that these pushes were wrong. Yet, I continued to push a few times. Finally, I asked Taryn if she thought this was working. She decided it would be best to check and be sure my cervix was fully dilated before continuing in order to avoid unnecessary pushing and avoid potential swelling that could make things harder in the end.

When the student midwife, Rebecca, checked me, she told me hesitantly that I was not complete. In fact, I was only 8 cm. I still had 2 cm to go. Clearly, I was not ready.

Discouraged, frustrated, and tired, I continued to labour in a variety of positions. On the bed, on the birthing stool, on the exercise ball and standing up, with Evan supporting under my arms, practically holding me up. At this point, Taryn suggested I not go back to the toilet because she didn’t want to risk the baby coming out while I was in there.

After a few more minutes, I had myself convinced, once again, that I was ready to push. Again, it was psychological. I knew I wasn’t really ready. But it was getting closer and closer to ‘morning’ time and I just wanted to be done.

This time, I decided to try to push on the birthing stool. I did maybe three or four pushes and once again, didn’t feel as though it was effective. Taryn asked me if I wanted her to check me to be sure everything was ready before I wasted any more energy. I agreed. Again, she told me that I just wasn’t quite there. There was a tiny amount of cervix that still needed to go back before I would be fully ready to push.

This time, it was her suggestion to return to sitting backward on the toilet and breath through some more contractions. We did just that – and let me tell you, that was the most intense, difficult twenty or so minutes of my life. The contractions were right on top of each other and I was having to force myself to breath through them, when my body was trying to tell me to push. Through the entire time we sat there, I needed Evan, Taryn and Rebecca to be there with me through every single contraction. My body was telling me to push. The midwives were telling me to breath through them. Taryn told me to be open and listen to my body. That as long as I physically could breath through the contractions, I wasn’t ready to push. When it was time, I would know. I kept asking her how many more contractions she was going to make me go through. She said she didn’t want to talk about numbers, she hated numbers, and we were going to let my body lead the way. She was sitting behind me, supporting my weight as I leaned back on her through each contraction. Evan was sitting to my right, whispering to me and helping me through each wave. He kept repeating, “Be still and know. Wait patiently for Him. Your babies are your gift” – all things that I had been repeating to myself over and over again for the past 6 hours. Rebecca was on the other side of me, offering her hand to me through each contraction.

Finally, Taryn told me we were going to get through two more contractions on the toilet and then we’d go back to the bed. Once we did this, they lifted me and helped me to the bedroom.

I laid down on my side and once again, she told me she wanted me to breath through a few more contractions. If I felt the need to push, she wanted me to do tiny, grunting, practice pushes, but to try not to bear down. She kept repeating that I needed to listen to my body. My body would know what to do.

By this time, Evan had donned his third pair of gloves because Taryn knew it was important to him to deliver the baby himself, just as he had with Evalyn, so each time we had thought it was time to push, he got ready. I also made it clear that when it was time, I wanted the mirror in sight.

I managed to breath through a few more contractions laying on my side in the bed, having my right leg supported by Megan, the secondary midwife. Finally, my body told me that there was no way I could breath through another contraction. I apologized to Taryn and said, “Sorry, but I’m pushing. This baby is coming out”.

At this point, I had Evan in the tightest headlock known to man, and Taryn later said that she had tried to swap places with him, since she knew he wanted to catch, but that she quickly realized that there was no way she was getting him out of that hold.

With the next few contractions, Megan lifted my leg for me and I pushed, all while watching what was happening in the mirror. I know many women don’t have any interest in watching what is happening, but for me, it was the best decision ever. I was able to put a visual to the sensations I was feeling and push more effectively. I’m confident that watching her be born contributed to the minimal damage that was done to my body during her birth.

I pushed one strong push during a contraction and saw the top of her head crowning. I remember praising God and saying “My baby, my baby, my baby” over and over again. I could see her. She was right there.

Right at this point, I also started vomiting. Sure, it doesn’t make for a pretty end to the story, but it happened so I am writing about it. I turned my face and threw up, and almost immediately, and miraculously there was a bowl placed there. A bowl which I missed as I continued to throw up through the rest of the delivery. Later, after she was born, Evan let me know that in the midst of this puke fest, while I had him in a headlock, I was actually vomiting down the side of his face. And yet, he stood there, let me pin him down with puke on his face, and cried as he also watched our child enter the world. That, my friends? That is true love.

With the next few contractions, I watched as the crown of her head turned into an entire head and face and then, with tears streaming down my face and phrases of awe and praise coming from my lips, I breathed as the rest of my baby came into the world.

Seven minutes.

Once I got over convincing myself I could have control of this labour, and let my body take the lead, she was born in seven minutes.

She was immediately placed on my chest and I looked to see that she was a girl. I, along with Evan, both of our mothers and Taryn, were all shocked to see that she was a girl.

I gave thanks to God, and started kissing and loving on my Gwennie. She was perfect.

And suddenly, every single contraction, every single pain – every little bit of it – was gone. My baby was in my arms. Safe. Healthy. Beautiful.

My sweet baby girl.

7:08 am was the time of her birth and her Big Sister woke up just before 7:15 am (again – can you say God moment?). When she woke up, our bedroom door was shut and she was greeted by one of her Nana’s and taken outside to meet up with Grandpa and Papa for a fun day of breakfast at the truck stop, playing at the park and going out for pizza for lunch.

Over the next few hours, we spent our time getting to know Gwen. She nursed wonderfully for the first time. In fact, the midwives asked me if I was still nursing Evalyn because the amount she was gulping was unusual for a first feed. She had her newborn exam and was weighed at 8lbs4oz and 21.5 inches long. She met her grandparents. Snuggled with her Mommy and Daddy and then later in the day, met her big sister for the first time.

Her birth was perfect. An indescribable reflection of the beauty of God’s creation. A miracle, really.

We praise Him, for we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Happy Birthday Gwennie–part 4

(Part ONE Part TWO Part THREE)

We left off when my mom had arrived at the house, I tried having a shower, and we started discussing when it would be time to page the midwife. I had been timing contractions for about 45 minutes, they were coming every 2 minutes and lasting about 30-45 seconds. We decided to go ahead and page because it was evident that things were not slowing down and my midwives had prepared me for the potential for a quick build up of labour, based on my experience with Evalyn.

Of course, as soon as we paged and the on call student midwife returned my call, I felt like my contractions eased up significantly while on the phone with her. However, she said this was normal because paging often creates a welcome distraction. She kept me on the phone for about 40 minutes to get an idea of the pattern of my labour and let me know that things were definitely picking back up as we settled into our conversation. We got off the phone, she consulted with the on call registered midwife and called me back. We decided they would be to our house within an hour.

That next hour is quite a blur. I know that Evan and I went outside for some fresh air, took a small walk down the road and that his mom had arrived by the time we got back. I spent more time on the birth ball, where Evan and I prayed together and recited my birth scriptures. This was the most amazing part of my labour, because despite not knowing how long we sat their reciting the scriptures, I do know that I barely felt a single contraction while we were doing that.

I was still on the ball in the corner of the living room when the midwives arrived at 4 am. They checked my temperature, blood pressure and the baby’s heart beat and watched me go through a few contractions before helping me back to the bedroom to see how far I had progressed.

As we moved to the room and they helped me get situated, I was trying my hardest not to give myself ultimatums or set goals for our far I’d like to be. All I knew was that if I wasn’t ‘far enough’ – whatever that would mean – that I would get discouraged. Things were already so intense and I just wasn’t sure how much longer I’d been able to keep it up. I remember my primary midwife, Taryn, asking me if Evalyn was at home. I told her yes, she was asleep because I hadn’t known I was going to go into labour before she went to bed. She said, “That’s okay, we’re having this baby before she wakes up”.

When they checked me, they told me I was between a 6-7 and things could go fairly quickly from here. I continued to labour as I had been, on the exercise ball and backwards on the toilet as things got harder and harder. My midwife suggested I try the birth stool – so I did – but I didn’t find it to be effective. It wasn’t long before my body started feeling like we were getting close. The pressure was building and I knew it wouldn’t be long until it was time to push. Taryn told me I was doing great, and she had already called her back up midwife, that’s how confident she was that we were almost done. My mom had called my dad and asked him to come wait in the truck outside, just in case Evalyn woke up, they would whisk her away without her knowing anything was up. It would soon be show time. By now, it was just after 5 am.

To be continued….

Happy Birthday Gwennie–part 3

(Click here for parts one and two).

So, as you’ll recall, I had just gone to bed, praying for peace and for wisdom, when I rolled over, felt a pop and felt something watery. Believe it or not, my first reaction wasn’t that my water had broken. The reason for this was because in the week’s leading up to delivery, I had been using Evening Primrose Oil, which is said to be a cervix softener (sorry if this is TMI for any of you, but it’s the story, so deal). I normally put it in immediately before bed, but as I wrote in part two, I had gone to bed and then gotten back up that night. I thought that maybe the oil just hadn’t had a chance to absorb and was leaking. I rolled over and attempted to “adjust” myself and quickly realized it wasn’t just a little bit.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the washroom – probably faster than I had moved in a long, long time – and called to Evan. He came running and I said “My water broke. At least I think it did”. He checked out the situation and I asked what he thought. He said he would have expected it to be more if it was my water, but what else could it be? We decided that the baby was probably low, making it so that not a ton came out, but that it was definitely my water. I was soaked through my underwear and all down my legs. We grabbed the Midwife binder and reviewed protocol for if my water broke during the night. Since I had not started contractions and everything about my water breaking was on the normal side, my instructions told me to get things prepared and then go back to bed and try to get some rest to gear up for labour and page to let them know at 6 am, if labour had not begun.

So, that we did. We made the bed and arranged the final birth supplies and also called our parents. Mine were already in town but Evan’s parents had a three hour drive. We weren’t sure if/when my contractions would start on their own, but we did know that regardless of whether or not I started on my own, we would be having a baby within 24-48 hours, and so they decided to go ahead and head down to be sure they didn’t miss it. They planned to head to Marcia and Linda’s when they arrived in town and just wait for the call that things were moving along.

By the time we got everything arranged and put together, it was about midnight. I took a few pictures, Evan scolded me and told me we needed to rest and save our energy, and we laid down. He was out like a light within seconds. I, of course, was not. I was trying to keep myself calm and remind myself it could be a number of hours before anything started but I was so excited. I was going to have my baby! I immediately thought how God had answered my prayers of anxiety and most definitely given me a way to know, for sure, that it was the real deal this time. I knew that no matter how it progressed – the baby was coming.

I laid in bed, willing my mind and body to calm down so I could rest when the first contraction hit me at exactly 12:30. And hit me, it did. Like, whoa. It was hard, long and intense and left me having to catch my breath. I laid still for a few more minutes waiting and bam! the next one followed a few minutes later. Because my early labour with Evalyn progressed and built up very gradually, I was not sure how to deal with the intensity of these contractions right from the start. I got through two or three more on my own and then I felt like there was no choice but to wake Evan up. Having to do this worried me. A lot. If I couldn’t get through more than 4-5 of these contractions on my own without seeking his support, how would I make it to the end?

It was about 1 am when I woke him up, we got up and tried to move around a bit as he helped me cope through the contractions. In the next few minutes, I soaked through another two or three pairs of pants and all the while the contractions were getting much stronger, closer together and much more intense. However, as time progressed they started getting much shorter. Between 1:30-2 am was the only time during my labour that I timed the contractions. They were coming 2 minutes apart, lasting 30-45 seconds as opposed to the initial contractions which were lasting 45 seconds to a minute and a half.

I knew I wasn’t ready to page the midwives because we were still dealing well on our own, but I also knew things weren’t slowing down. I started praying that it would go quickly – because the intensity was building in a way I never experienced with Evalyn – and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep my endurance up for a labour like this. I tried to keep my mind focused on baby steps - taking one contraction at a time, waiting to call our moms, waiting until it was time to page and so on.

Around 1:30 I sent Evan outside to get all the doors unlocked and lights on for the midwives and our mom’s so that he wouldn’t have to leave my side later on, because I knew from my last experience that when labour gets tough – the number one thing I need to cope is having him beside me. He called my mom and told her to head over. He called his parents and told his Dad to drop his mom off at our place instead of heading to Marcia and Linda’s first.

We started struggling with knowing when would be the right time to page. Of course, I didn’t want to page too early and wake the midwives up unnecessarily but I also didn’t want to wait too long since they had warned me that based on my experience delivering Evalyn, things might go very quick.

My mom arrived just before 2, as Evan and I were getting in the shower to clean up my legs and hopefully get some relief from the pain of the contractions. The water didn’t give me the relief I had hoped it would so we didn’t stay in there for more than a few contractions. When we got out, my mom had arrived and we started talking seriously about when it would be time to page.

To be continued…

*Sidenote: I am sorry about the multiple part posting. I’m not trying to be dramatic and cliff hanger’ish, but I want to capture every single detail and I also have limited time to sit down and write between naps/feeds/diaper changes and so on. Stay with me!*

Happy Birthday Gwennie–part two

If you haven’t read part one of Gwen’s birth story, click here before you go any further. Part one concluded with me realizing, at around 2:30 in the morning, that my labour was a false alarm and nothing was happening. I had taken Evalyn to her aunt’s for the night, called my parents to come to town, and put everything together in the house – all for nothing.

I woke up Friday morning and broke down in tears. I was discouraged. I was disheartened. I thought I would have been holding my baby, or at least well on the way to holding my baby by now. I was feeling deflated as well as exhausted from a night of very little sleep.

I headed over to Marcia and Linda’s, where my parents also were, to pick up Evalyn. As soon as I saw her, my attitude changed. She was thrilled at having had a sleepover at her aunties and was so excited to see her Nana and Papa. “Mommy, Nana prise you smorning!” she shouted to me. I had cried the night before while putting her to bed and praying, thinking it would be the last night that she was my only baby, so I tried to remind myself to just enjoy her, and that the new baby would be here in good time.

We spent the day with Nana and Papa, at the beach, the park, out for lunch, swimming and visiting Great Grandpa. All the while, I hardly felt a single cramp or contraction, yet was still losing more and more of my mucous plug and seeing evidence of bloody show. We were all on edge – wondering when it would happen. My Dad kept encouraging me, telling me that this must just be the calm before the storm.

Of course, as the weekend went by, we all kept waiting for the storm to arrive. Having my parents here for the weekend made all the difference in the world. Evan was busy working away at the new house, still hoping to get as much work as possible done before show time, so getting to spend our time with Nana was a very welcome distraction to help the time pass for Evalyn and I.

On Sunday, Canada Day, we had a quiet afternoon at home before heading to Dana and Cindy’s for a BBQ with friends. Sometime over the course of the weekend, I felt my attitude shift from impatient to content. Instead of talking like “Well, if I’m not in labour tomorrow, we will do ____”, I was talking like this, “Tomorrow we will do _____”. I knew the baby would come when it was time, and I felt myself giving that control back to God, realizing that it was not my decision.

The plan was for my Dad to head home Monday after lunch to go back to work on Tuesday. Since they drove separately, my mom was going to stay over one more night, come with me to my midwife appointment on Tuesday morning and then make her decision about whether or not to go home based on what my midwife said about my progress. Again, our discussions switched from “If I am still pregnant on Tuesday” to “You’ll come with me to my appointment on Tuesday”.

We thoroughly enjoyed our time with our friends at the BBQ on Sunday evening. Delicious food, great company and of course, s’mores. Evalyn got to play with her best friend Will, her Nana and Papa and Cindy’s cats. I got to use my belly as a table one last time.

I felt very uncomfortable, but simply because I was 40 weeks 4 days pregnant and spent my evening sitting on a lawn chair – not because I had any indication what was headed my way. We went home in time for Evalyn to go to bed and my mom and I went for a bit of a walk. We said goodnight, see you in the morning, and they headed back to Marcia and Linda’s.

I decided it would be a good night to head to bed early, because Evan was watching a movie I had no interest in and I hadn’t napped that day, so I tucked myself in bed around 9:30. I laid there for a few minutes and quickly realized sleep was not coming so I decided to get back up and spend a few more minutes on the birth ball. During this time, I was sitting near the baby’s bassinet, reading and re-reading my cue cards that have my labour scriptures written on them. I kept finding my mind come back to one in particular.

“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him” – Psalm 37:7.

My mind also kept being drawn to the scriptures that discuss God knowing the exact number of hairs on our head, how he cares about the sparrows and the lilies of the field – and how much more he cares about us. These ideas lead me to think about how he has chosen and selected, on purpose, the perfect birthday for my baby. I started praying and thanking God for the blessing of this baby and asking forgiveness for attempting to take control of the situation. I asked God to take it from me, to grant me peace, and to remind me that He was holding us in His hand. I also prayed that He would give Evan and I the wisdom and discernment to know when it was time, as all of the cramps, contractions and false starts/stops had me anxious about how I would know when it was real. Again, these prayers drew me back to another of my scriptures that I had focused on in preparation for labour:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and sound judgement” – 2 Timothy 1:7.

I spent a few more minutes in prayer, reflecting on these ideas. Around 10:30 p.m., I wrote the following tweets:

Every minute over due, every false alarm, every "could this be the day?" - it will be forgotten when I see that sweet face. I just know it.

and

“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him” – Psalm 37:7.

Shortly after, Evan’s movie was done, so we decided to head to bed. He fell asleep instantly (are we surprised), and I was quickly drifting there myself, feeling much more at peace than I had in days.

Around 11:30, I rolled over to reposition in bed, and instantly felt as small pop and felt as though I had wet my pants.

To be continued…

Eva's Birth Story: Part Four

Don't forget to check out Parts 1, 2 and 3 of Eva's birth story.

My water had been broken at 11 am, and by shortly before 1 pm, I told my midwives that I desperately needed to push. They helped me through a few more contractions in the bathroom and then the Dude assisted me back to the bedroom where I was checked to see if I was at 10 cm and ready.

Colleen was the one to check me this time and immediately, she said "Oh, there's the head. She's ready". I remember hearing Carrie instruct her to go ahead and call Taryn (the secondary midwife would comes when birth is imminent to take care of the baby). When instructing me how to push, Colleen put pressure on the place where she said I should feel the pushing. They told me to get into whatever position was most comfortable and they would coach me.

This was definitely the stage of labor where I received the most coaching from my midwives, and it was very beneficial. They gave me suggestions of different positions. I decided to try on my side. With each contraction, the Dude would lift my right leg so that I could maximize the effectiveness of the pushing. The midwives instructed me to try to get three good, strong pushes in with each contraction. As one contraction peaked, I was to give a good push, take a short breath, another push, short breath, and another push. After a few series of pushes on my side, I decided it just wasn't working for me.

I decided then to get on my hands and knees and try pushing that way. With the very first series of pushes, I knew that this was going to get the job done. I could just tell that it was effective and helping bring my baby out.

I was definitely in the zone by this point, I don't remember a whole lot, like the Dude putting a warm cloth on my back and neck with each push, but I do remember hearing everyone in the room cheer me on with each push.

It wasn't long until I heard the Dude say that he could see her hair. I wanted to see with a mirror but there wasn't really time, or I didn't ask, I'm not sure. A few more pushes and I was told that her head was now visible even between pushes. My baby was really almost here.

I asked if I could touch it, and they guided my hand down to feel my baby's hair. The secondary midwife, Taryn, arrived just in time. When she walked in the door, the Dude didn't realize who was coming in and thought it was our neighbor, so he said "Excuse me, what are you doing?" ... Poor Taryn.

I remember hearing the Dude say, "I want to catch, where are my gloves?" Quickly the midwives got him situated and started explaining to him what he would need to do.

They told me to keep pushing with strong pushes, until they told me to stop and then they wanted me to breath (hee hee haw type breaths) as my baby's head came out. They said it would be hard to stop pushing but they would help me.

A few more pushes and they said, "You're almost there. Okay, stop and breath your baby out".

I'm not sure which midwife it was, but one of them got right in my face at this point and helped guide my breathing so that it was effective.

The rest is kind of a blur.

Her head was out, along with her tiny hand (which she began sucking on as soon as she could) and then her shoulders were out, and then, quite literally, the rest of her just popped out. My baby was welcomed into the world by her Daddy. Colleen also had her hands on her the entire time, but the Dude did most of it.

The Dude and the midwives passed her to me, I saw my sweet baby's face for the first time and I fell in love.

I was the one who got to look and see what kind of Monkey we got. I'm not sure why, but this was very important to me - I wanted to be the one to tell everyone, "It's a girl" and I did.

I smothered my baby with kisses, told her how much I loved her, that I had waited for her and I thanked God for bringing her to us safely. At this point, I realized just how true one of my labor Scriptures really was ....

Whenever a woman is in labour, she has pain, because her time has come, but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the JOY that a CHILD has been BORN into the world".
- John 16:21

The next few hours were spent taking care of all of the "post birth" stuff ... the placenta was delivered, I was stitched up, and she was examined, weighed and so on. The midwives helped us get started with breastfeeding, and made sure that everything was in order. They stayed with us for about three or four hours following her birth, had lunch with us, and made sure we were all comfortable before they left.

She was so excited to meet her Daddy, Nana and Auntie Katie right after she was born.

Our family.

We were so blessed to have a straight forward, normal labor and delivery for our sweet girl. Here we are with the midwives who helped bring Eva into the world. The plaque on our wall says it all: "Home is where your story begins".

I can't wait until Eva grows and is able to hear all about how her story began.

Thank you all for your prayers and love as we waited for Eva and thank you for allowing us to share her story with you.

Eva's Birth Story: Part Three

If you need to catch up, you can read the first two parts of our birth story here and here. As a refresher, I had started into early labor in the evening on Tuesday, spent the evening and night in and out of the bathroom (um, did I mention I used SEVEN rolls of toilet paper over the course of my labor?Um, yeah, at least I didn't have to worry about pooping during delivery.TMI? Sorry), resting between contractions and floating in the bathtub. Things progressed through the night and by 7 am I was around 5 cms and starting into active labor. I labored through the morning and when we left off in part two, it was 11 am, the midwives checked my dilation, found that I was sitting between 7 and 8 cms and broke my water.

Before doing so, they explained that breaking the water can often shorten labor by 30-45 minutes but is also quite likely to send the contractions to the next level in terms of intensity. They were right. I counted on my Dude during the transitional stage of labor so much. He was there with me through every single contraction - talking to me, hanging on to me, kissing me, breathing with me, and dancing with me (I'm talking a slow, steady rocking type dance - we weren't doing no macarana!)

The midwives suggested that I try getting back into the bathtub as many women find that the weightlessness of the water can help counteract the intensity of the contractions. We decided to give it a try. While in the water, things changed. It got hard. Super hard. After the fact, my mom and Katie said that they could hear me from the kitchen while I was in the tub and they knew that things were getting difficult for me. I needed much more direction in terms of keeping my pitch low and if the Dude didn't help me breath through each contraction, I had trouble getting on top of them. I remember saying to him a few times, "I need to own these contractions. Help me own them. I can't get control" and each time, he would tell me to keep my shoulders down, let out the tension through my bum and out my toes ... and it worked. I was able to get back on top of the contractions and take them one at a time. The most important thing, I found, was to never alow myself think about the contraction that had just passed and likewise, to never think about the next one coming. It was so crucial to focus on getting through the contraction I was having at the time, and that was it. I also remember feeling so though I needed to vomit a lot during this time, so we were carrying a bowl around with us, but I managed to get through without getting sick.

It was during this point in labor that people started to talk about my baby a lot. I heard many comments such as "these contractions are bringing your baby down", "help your baby move down", "your baby is coming". Those are the things that kept me going. I knew I was soon going to meet Eva (although I did not yet know that she would be Eva).

After a little while (I have no idea how long because my concept of time at this point was gone) I decided I didn't like the tub so thought I should go back to the exercise ball because I had liked it so much throughout the rest of my labour. But, I didn't. I only spent a small amount of time there and then said I needed to get to the toilet (roll of toilet paper #8?!?). The Dude helped me to the washroom and I had the urge to sit backwards. Colleen told me this is generally a very effective position for bringing the baby down and encouraged me to keep my feet flat on the floor. They assured me that no matter what, they would not let my baby fall out into the toilet. To be honest, that thought never crossed my mind.

They kept telling me that this was the hardest part, I was almost done, just a few more contractions. I remember feeling somewhat irrational at this point - in fact, I even asked "How many more?" once, knowing full well that no one could tell me. Colleen said, "Just a few more, you're almost done." I remember wanting to snap at her, and tell her that I knew I wasn't that close because they hadn't even called the second midwife yet.

While I was on the toilet, I lost my plug and got the bloody show, which I hadn't seen yet, so I knew that was a good sign. Shortly after, I started to feel an intense urge to push. They told me it was okay to do some "little practice grunts" so I started with that. It was not long, however, until I told them that "little grunts" were not enough and that I needed to PUSH! Carrie asked me to try to get through three more contractions on the toilet and then I could make my way back to the bedroom. I got through those last three and then the Dude took me under my arms and assisted me back to the room. I think I had about three very strong contractions in the 20 foot or so walk back to the room, where I remember bending my knees, bearing down and pushing a little. And, man ... did that feel good. I also remember noticing that during my time in the bathroom, the midwives had moved all of their equipment into our room and set everything up. Maybe I was almost done, afterall.

I got back to the bedroom, got situated on the bed and Colleen checked to see how close to complete I was...

Eva's Birth Story: Part Two

**Sorry about the irregular spacing in this post. For some reason, all the paragraphs are screwing up but I'm sick of trying to fix it.

When we left off at the end of part one of Eva's birth story, it was shortly after 3 am, and the Dude and I had just called my parents and told them to get on the road and head down.


As a funny sidenote, my brother and SIL had been staying with my parents for the summer until they got possession of their new home so when I called at 3 am, my SIL woke up and was confused. She thought my parents had left earlier in the night the first time I called, so seeing our phone number on call display made her think we were calling her with the news that the baby had arrived. She answered and said "Do you have something to tell us?" and I was like, "Um, yeah, I'm in labor. Mom and Dad need to get here". Meanwhile, at the same time, my mom picked up the extension upstairs and couldn't understand why my SIL was also on the phone. It took us a good 5 minutes to get things straightened out but we managed.


After we got off the phone and knew my parents would be arriving within the next two hours, we decided to take care of the few last minute preparations while I was still able to somewhat concentrate on other things in between contractions. We stripped our bed and re-made it with two sets of old sheets and vinyl tablecloths, covered the pillows with plastic bags and old pillow cases, cleared off my dresser for midwives supplies and, most importantly, I donned the Monkey Milkin' Shirt.


The Dude and I continued to lay down and attempted to get as much rest as possible in the meantime. This is when I really felt like I started to get into the zone. My baby was really on the way.


By just before 5 am when my parents arrived the contractions had increased and I was confident that we were beginning to see the magical longer, stronger, closer together. I think my mom was surprised to see how far into labor I actually was by the time she arrived. We spent the following hour timing them, only to find that they were coming consistently at 2.5 minutes apart and lasting for 45 seconds.


We had been instructed to page the midwives when we thought I had begun active labor. They had encouraged us to not become obsessed with timing contractions but gave us a 3 minute apart for an hour guideline to go by. They also said, when your contractions are "toe-curling" and you can no longer talk through them or focus on anything else while you are having one.


By 5:45 am, we decided that we were probably at this point. I wasn't in any state to pick up the phone and page, so the Dude paged for us and we waited only a short time for the student midwife, Colleen, to call us back.


Evan explained to her where we were at and she asked to speak with me so she could try to get an idea of how I was coping and how things were progressing from me. We spent about 10 minutes on the phone, going through a few contractions together, and she told me that she would call my on-call midwife (her supervising midwife), discuss things with her, and then call us back with a plan. I have to admit that at this point, I still had the nagging feeling in the back of my mind telling me that I was not really that far into labor and that we had paged way too early.

Colleen called back shortly and let me know that she and my primary midwife, Carrie, felt as though I was likely either at the beginning stages of active labor or else at least very close. She said that they would be there within an hour or so to assess me and we would go from there.

After we hung up, I texted Katie, my bff saying "It's showtime. My parents are here and midwives are on the way". She texted back immediately, "What?? Whooohooo. I'll be there soon" and arrived within a few minutes.

Over the next hour, the sinking feeling that we had paged too early became even more pressing as my contractions began to slow down. They were definitely no longer coming two minutes apart. When Colleen arrived at 7 am and informed me that Carrie was just a few minutes behind her, I told her that I was nervous I paged too early. She told me not to worry, they'd check me out and if I wasn't ready for them to stay, they would leave for a bit and come back later.

Colleen, who I had not met previously (because she was a student with the other team) helped me through a few contractions. Carrie arrived a few minutes later and they got me situated on the bed to check out where I was at. They both reminded me not to feel discouraged if I wasn't as far along as I thought and that I was doing a great job. They also told me that it was not uncommon for women to experience a slow down in labor once they have called the midwives because they start to feel more relaxed and safe knowing they have that support and it's not a big deal.

I was pleased to know that I was between 4.5-5 cm and that hopefully, with a stretch and sweep, things would get moving. And, um, that stretch and sweep? Ouch.like.ouchie.

I think I might have cried. They promised me it would not be like that every time they checked me. And thankfully, they were right. After they checked me, they also gave me a shot of gravol in my hip that would hopefully give me the opportunity to rest between contractions. And it certainly did. I was able to fall asleep in between each contraction. At one point, I think I almost fell of the birthing ball.

We decided that the midwives would stick around for an hour and see how things went. If the contractions continued to peter out, then they would leave for a bit and come back when things picked up again. However, as that hour passed, we realized that things were not petering out, and the midwives would not need to leave. Things were picking up quickly!

Here I am resting on the birthing ball, with my fabulous husband - who, I might add, was a total rockstar, and Colleen giving me a back massage.

Checking the baby's heart rate - each time they checked her heart, they kind of laughed and said something about how this baby didn't even notice what was going on. She was happy as a clam in there.

My mom and Katie were my other labor support people. They were my silent warriors. They didn't say a whole lot but they were always there with exactly what I needed. Whether it was a drink, some crackers, a hand to squeeze, or a backrub, it was also there when I needed it and most often, without my even asking.

Over the next few hours, the Dude and I managed the contractions together as they got progressively longer, stronger and closer together. I must say, there is no way I could have gotten through labor without him. He was a total lifesaver. He was always there, touching me when I wanted it, not touching me when I didn't want it, saying the right things at the right time and never leaving my side. Well, okay, he did have to leave my side a few times, but he always made sure I was comfortable first and that someone else was with me. With every contraction he reminded me to breath deeply, to relax my shoulders, let the tension out through my bum and all the way out my toes. He breathed with me and moaned with me, encouraging me to keep my pitch very deep and low, which was exactly what helped me stay on top of each contraction.

As things got stronger, I remember finding myself repeating some of my labor scriptures to myself in my head. Specifically, I kept repeating "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you". At one point, the Dude said "You are so strong. You're doing such a great job" and I remember telling him that I couldn't do it without him, and that the Lord was giving me the strength that I needed.

Around 10 am, Carrie and Colleen situated me on my bed to administer the antibiotics that I would need for testing positive for GBS. It took about 10 minutes and then they detached the IV so I was able to move around again. Movement in labor = A plus. The birthing ball was the tool that I used the most often, as you can see in some of the photos. The rocking and bouncing sensation was one that I found very effective. This was about the same time that my Dad decided things were getting a wee bit intense for him and he headed out for the rest of the time. Honestly, by this point, I would not have even noticed who was there.

When we hit 11 am, it was time for them to check me again. As they got me set up in the bed, they informed me that if I was 7 cm or above that they could offer to break my water. They told me that if they did, it would have the possibility of shortening labor but would likely make the contractions much more intense. I opted to have them break the waters if I was ready. Still at this point, I had a fear that over the course of the 4 hours they had been there that I had probably only progressing 1 cm. They said in that time, 1 cm is the minimum they would have liked to see so as long as I was at 6 cm, they would be happy.

Thankfully, they measured me at between 7 and 8 cm so they were able to go ahead and break my waters. They waited until I was having a strong contraction, so that the sac and everything would be taut and one of them (I can't remember who) broke it. Not a lot came out because her head was so low and acting like a plug so they told me that most of the fluids would come out when she was born. Once the water was broken, and Carrie told me she could feel the head, I asked if she felt hair. She said that she sure did feel a lot of hair on my baby. I just knew it.

They suggested that I try the bathtub again because many women find it eases the intensity of contractions after the waters are broken, so with the Dude's help, I eased my way into the tub and waited to see what would happen.

When they said that breaking my water would change things and intensify my contractions, they were not kidding!

To be continued ....