K is my holiday baby. My guess date was in the beginning of January and I was very aware that she could come over Christmas or NYE. I knew what I wanted this time and I knew I was going to do everything I could to get it. I ate a lot better, saw my chiropractor and overall felt physically better than I had in my previous 2 pregnancies. Emotionally though I was having a hard time as I was met with a lot of challenges that I hadn’t expected. She was breech, which resulted in me having an ECV (external cephalic version), plus I suffered from severe pelvic pain, and my prosthetic leg no longer fit.
Over Christmas and Boxing day I was miserable. All I wanted to do was hibernate, and it’s pretty much all I did. On the 27th though, I had a boost of energy. I took a shower, did my hair and wanted to go out, even though I had been having cramps and back pain on and off all day. After dinner I decided to just relax and take a bath. While in the bath my waves were anywhere from 6-10 minutes apart, but were sporadic in length and intensity. I made a phone call to help another mother with breastfeeding, but had to end it early as things started to pick up. I went to bed, hoping to sleep a few hours in case this was it. I couldn’t find a good position though and sleep never came. Finally around midnight, after getting in and out of bed a couple of times, I decided to distract myself my blowing up the birth pool for my planned home birth.
At 2am, after one last attempt at sleep, I called my doula, midwife and photographer. Within an hour they were all there. I asked to be checked by my midwife and was at 4cm. I loved being at home and being able to move as I wanted to. I went from the couch, to the cold floor, to sleeping on the stairs in between waves. I was freezing cold and spent a lot of time being wrapped in a blanket a friend had made for me 18 years before. My doula was a god send, making sure I was sipping on water, getting the tens machine hooked up and making sure the bowl was ready when I got sick. Even with that though, all I wanted was to be in my birth pool, which felt like is was taking forever to fill. I spent this time visualizing waves crashing over me and moving out into the ocean, repeating my birth affirmations. Telling myself I could do it, that I was doing it.
Finally I was able to get into the birth pool. I felt so relaxed. My waves spread out and became more manageable. Because things had slowed down a bit my midwife mentioned getting out to pick things up. Instinctively though, I knew that I was where I needed to be. Around 5:30am a wave came over me and all of a sudden felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I looked at my doula and asked why I was doing this. Everyone there said that I let out a moan and they all knew that I was in transition. Waves started taking over and coming back to back. It was at this time I went from sitting to wanting to be on my knees leaning against the pool. Once I was in this position I felt her head drop into the birth canal. It was so intense. All I could do was swear , scream and go with my body as it took over pushing my baby out. I remember thinking that women were crazy to like pushing because this felt horrible. Once K started crowning my midwife asked if she could rupture my membranes but I didn’t hear her. My doula had to get in my face to make sure I knew what my midwife was asking. My response was that “I don’t care, I just want her the fuck out!”. I felt the ring of fire and then got a small break. My body took control and started pushing the rest of K out. I was so overwhelmed. My baby was here. She was so beautiful and covered in vernix. K let out a small squawk and promptly fell asleep on top of me.
She was born 17 minutes after I hit transition and 3 minutes after I started pushing. Her birth has forever changed me.
My pregnancy and birth with E was far and away a different experience than I had had with L. Overall I felt a lot better, my prosthetic leg fit the whole time, and after a lot of thought I decided to go for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean).
Choosing to go for a VBAC meant finding a provider that would support and encourage me. I found a great midwife who reassured me that my body was capable of birthing my baby. The best thing she did for me was to remind me that it was my body and that I had choices. A couple of weeks before Es guess date I hit the the same point that I had with L, I was done. I was uncomfortable, had lots of Braxton hicks, didn’t want to be around anyone and was scared. The biggest difference this time though, was support. I had people telling me that I could do it, encouraging me and bringing me up.
On a Monday afternoon when I was 39 weeks along I picked up L from daycare. As I was putting him in the car seat I had an intense sensation that made me stop. I didn’t give it much thought as it came and went so quickly. That night L and I hung out with some neighbours and had a relaxing night. It wasn’t until I put him to bed that I realized I had been having waves every 45 minutes. I decided to go to bed early and rest while I could just in case things picked up. Sleep didn’t last long and at 1 in the morning I woke up to more waves. I spent a few hours pacing the apartment, taking a bath and trying hard to go back to sleep. At 5am L woke up for the day. By this point the waves were still sporadic but I needed to breathe to get through them. L was an amazing little doula, kissing my head making sure I was ok and even taking an early morning bath with me. It was after the bath that I decided to call someone to help look after L so I could try to nap. My best friend came over and I got some much-needed sleep. It wasn’t until I woke up a few hours later that I realized it had been awhile since I had had any more waves. I had an acupuncture appointment that afternoon and asked my brother to drive me just in case things started to pick up again. It’s a good thing I did. The moment I got into my appointment my birth really started. Waves were regular and timeable and yet somehow I made it through the entire hour-long appointment. Once I got home I told my brother to go and pack an overnight bag in anticipation of having him stay with L.
I called my midwife soon after and after she listened to me have a wave she asked how quickly I could get to the hospital. Once there and checked in I found out I was 4cm dilated. I really wasn’t handling things well, swearing, screaming and didn’t want any one to touch me. I asked for some gas to take the edge off, but I hated it. It made me feel loopy. Plus my instincts were telling me to make noise instead of breathing in which made the gas ineffective. I asked to be checked about an hour later and was at 8cm. At this point I asked for an epidural. The anesthesiologist must have been right out side my door because no sooner had I asked then she came in. As soon as the epi was placed my midwife checked me again. I was at 10cm and my membranes broke in her hand. Unfortunately, because the epidural had just been placed I had to wait to push.
I really wanted to push on my own as I felt the urge to and about 45 minutes later when the epidural wore off that feeling came. I was in control of my body. I was doing it. And I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in a day, in between pushes I kept telling anyone that would listen that I wanted a pizza. All I wanted was hot pizza. Soon her head was past my pubic bone. I got into a squatting position and forgot all about pizza I felt E crowning, the intense ring of fire and then got a small break. Her little body came out soon after. I looked down at my beautiful baby girl and all I could say was “I did it, I did it”. In that moment I knew I wasn’t a lemon. I knew I could give birth.
The only time she left my arms was to get cleaned up and have her newborn checks. Soon she was right back in my arms where she belonged. I got the birth that I had planned and hoped for for so long.
But I never did get my pizza.