The birth day | The Growing Tree

**Disclaimer and WARNING**

We had an awesome birth photographer–Amy Pittsinger of AmyBarryPhotography. Amy took some amazing photos during my labor. While I absolutely love the photos that depict a serene and peaceful birth experience, I also love the ones that show the pain and intensity that I felt, and the helplessness that Chris felt. With this in mind, I have decided to share the good, the bad, and the ugly. You will see the beautiful moments… and ones that might make you uncomfortable. Proceed at your own risk. (PS- In an effort to try to maintain some modesty (which is hard since the majority of my family and best friends were present at the birth) I have edited out my lady bits. You’re welcome.)

Oh, and when you’re done looking at all the great birth photos Amy took, click below and see how awesome her other work is!

Now… on the the story.

Logan’s due date was December 14^th. I knew there was a high probability that he would be late as the average for first timers who go into labor on their own is 41 weeks & 2 days. So, when 40 weeks came and went, I was not surprised that he was still living it up in my amazing womb. We had an ultrasound and a non-stress test completed to make sure he was still doing okay—he scored a 10 out of 10 on the tests so we had some time to wait him out. I finished up my last week at work and then finished up the waiting game at home. Being so close to Christmas, I had plenty to keep myself busy, but it still wasn’t easy waiting to meet the little boy who had been kicking my insides around for 9+ months.

|Hooked up to the monitors at the birth center.|

|Logan’s kicking at the monitors… he doesn’t want to come out. Ever.|

I went to the birth center on Thursday, December 22 to have a check up and see if any progress had been made. Unfortunately, I was still at 2 cm (the same place I had been for a few weeks). I had been experiencing prodromal labor since Thanksgiving. I would have contractions and constant cramping in my lower stomach and back, but was not making a lot of progress in the dilation department. This is also called false labor—I hate that term. Feels like the beginning of labor, but surprise… it’s not.

At our appointment, Susan (one of the fabulous midwives) talked with us about trying a non-medical induction. I was completely torn. I didn’t want to evict the baby, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be in labor on Christmas and have the baby share a birthday with Jesus. Plus, as I got bigger and bigger, sleep was becoming almost nonexistent and it was just about impossible to get comfortable. Selfish, I know, but that’s how I felt. At that appointment, Susan stripped my membranes and told me to go home and sleep. We made an appointment to come back the next morning and start a non-medical induction with Jean.

|The last belly shot… taken a few days before Logan was born.|

Luckily, since it was the Friday before Christmas, the birth center was actually closed for appointments. This means that we had Jean all to ourselves and didn’t have to worry about other people being at the birth center if I did happen to go into labor. This also meant that Jean would be the midwife attending the birth… which is what I wanted from the beginning. I love all of the midwives at the birth center, but I really felt a connection to Jean. Plus, the birth assistant that I wanted was on call… Patty.

Chris and I arrived at Inanna (the birth center) at 9am on Friday morning. I was still feeling guilty about trying for an induction, so I decided to have a frank talk with Jean about our options. At this point we were getting close to 42 weeks. Going any longer than 42 weeks can be risky as the placenta can start to not work as well and there is an increase in the chance of having a stillbirth. Scary business! Jean and I had a frank discussion. She told me that they were worried because the baby had not dropped yet and he was not in the most favorable position. He kept flipping between being face up, and facing my left side… INSTEAD of facing down (towards my back) like he was supposed to. I knew that he had been flipping back and forth, but did not realize that it was such a big deal. Jean also told me that if we couldn’t get the baby to drop and get labor started, that I would have to be transferred to their physician and have the baby at the hospital. *Insert crying fit here* I felt like my worst nightmare was coming true. I could not believe that I had been working towards this natural birth for the past 9 months (and even longer if you count the research I did before I ever even got pregnant) and here my plans were crashing down around me. As I sat there sobbing, trying to wrap my head around what was being said, all I could think about was being stuck in a hospital bed after getting an epidural (because the pain from the Pitocin was too much) and having a panic attack because I felt claustrophobic… and the doctors having to knock me out completely and take the baby via c-section because I lost my freaking mind. Overly dramatic? Completely. But in my defense, I was seriously sleep deprived and 9+ months pregnant with a baby who was completely content on living in me until his 35^th year of gestation. A couple of deep breaths later, I blocked the thought of the hospital out of my mind and tried my damndest to focus on what I had to do to get this baby here the way I wanted it to happen. Finally, my stubbornness was going to come in handy.

So begins the non-medical induction. The way they “induce” labor at the birth center, is to strip your membranes (google it if you need a definition)and then send you home to use the breast pump for 30 minutes and walk for an hour, alternating each until contractions get going. I had the added job of squatting when I had a contraction to try to get the baby to drop. Gotta love gravity! This type of induction doesn’t always work… only if your body is ready. Since we weren’t sure if labor was actually going to start, Chris and I made the decision to not tell our family or friends. We didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up if nothing was going to happen. After Jean violated me stripped my membranes, Chris and I headed home to start using the breast pump and walking. We were to do this as long as we could and then head back to the birth center at 2:00 to meet Jean and get checked. It was cold that day, so Chris and I had to bundle ourselves up while we were walking. Each time I would have a contraction, I would squat down using Chris to balance myself. I’m sure the people driving by thought we were crazy or doing something really inappropriate.

At 2:00 we headed back up to meet Jean. At this point, I was having consistent contractions, but they were not very strong so I hadn’t started timing them yet. She checked me. I had dilated to 3 cm, but baby was still high. So, I was making progress—slow progress—but the baby wasn’t dropping and was still facing the wrong way. I was trying desperately to keep my chin up and not get discouraged, but things were not looking hopeful. She sent us back home to continue the breast pump/walking routine. We were to check back in with her at 6pm. Chris and I got home and my contractions started to get more painful. We used the pump and then set out to walk around the block. I couldn’t even make it down the street and I felt like things were really starting, so I began timing the contractions. They were 3 minutes apart, but only lasting 30 seconds. I called Jean—she wanted the contractions to be lasting longer, so we stayed at home. We used this time to pack up the car and for me to get some last minute bags packed for myself (I’m a bit of a procrastinator). It was getting close to 4pm and the contractions were lasting 45-60 seconds and were still 2-3 minutes apart. I was trying to stay home as long as possible and I didn’t want to keep calling Jean, but Chris urged me to call her back and let her know. She wanted to see us.

We got back to the birth center a little after 4pm. I was now at 4 cm. The baby was still high, but he had come down a little bit… and he had started to turn so he wasn’t completely face up any more. Jean let us know that she was going to keep us. Things were starting to look up again… or so I thought. I didn’t find this out until days after the birth, but when I was in the restroom, Chris asked Jean how she really thought things were going. She told him that my progress was really slow and the fact that baby was still high was a big concern. She said that we would more than likely wind up going to the hospital that night unless things picked up the pace tremendously and we got that baby to drop down. In an effort to not make me an emotional wreck and possibly sabotage my birth, they decided to keep me in the dark—a very well made decision on their part.

Chris and I spent the next few hours in the birth room together. Jean came in and out to check on us, take my vitals, and check the baby’s heartbeat… but for the most part, she left us alone. Since I was not confined to a bed, I was able to move around the room and get into different positions that would help the baby drop down and turn the right way… and to help with the pain. I would go from squatting (and using the posts on the bed to balance myself), to sitting on the birth ball, to being on all 4s–whatever felt good at that moment. Chris was a big support during this time. He was applying counter pressure to my back (back labor is a bitch!), helping me back and forth from the restroom, and sometimes suggesting different positions to get into. Most importantly, he was there to talk me through the contractions and then get my mind off of them for the short time in between.

It was during this time that we called Amy, one of our best friends and our birth photographer. She had been put on alert since she has a day job and I wanted to make sure that she had her camera available. She got off work at 7:00 and immediately headed to the birth center. Chris and I were still working through contractions when she got there.

|The birth room.|

|Working through contractions. Since baby was facing the wrong way, the back labor was horrible.|

|Trying to breathe through them.|

|Couldn’t have done it without this guy.|

|Trying another position.|

Jean came in a short while later and asked if she could check me. It had been several hours since the last time and we were eager to see how much progress had been made. I was only at 5 cm but baby had turned and dropped a little more. One centimeter in approximately 4 hours… progress was definitely slow. Jean asked me how I felt about her breaking my water. I started to panic. I knew that once the water was broken, there was no turning back. If things didn’t pick up speed, breaking my water would surely land me in the hospital. I also knew that breaking the water could speed things up… but it would make things hurt a whole heck of lot worse. I’m pretty sure I started crying. It’s very hard to make decisions when you are in the worst pain of your life. I reluctantly decided to let her but made sure that she knew how terrified I was of the contractions. She told me that she could give me a small shot of Nubain to help “take the edge off”. I had not done any research on Nubain… and I have an overwhelming need to research absolutely everything, especially anything pregnancy and baby related. We had talked about it in our childbirth preparation classes, but I couldn’t remember what was said. I was trying to go for a completely non-medicated birth, but decided to put my trust in Jean. If she thought that the Nubain would help, then we would try it. Reading about it afterwards, I realize that she probably gave it to me more to ease my anxiety about breaking my water, rather than actually alleviating any pain.

|Getting a shot.|

|Checking baby’s heartbeat before breaking my water.|

|Jean was down below breaking the water. I look confused (I was waiting for the pain) and Chris looks intrigued.|

|Trying to rest.|

Jean got her tools and went to work on breaking my water. The increase in pain was immediate and intense. I wasn’t even able to stand up anymore. When the contractions would start up, I would put my arms around Chris and hug as hard as I could. When he went to go start making phone calls to tell our family and friends to come up there, Amy was my substitute Chris. I’m pretty sure I damaged her internal organs. After laying in the bed for a while, I tried to get up. That didn’t last very long.

|Squeezing the life out of Chris.|

|Checking on me.|

|Checking on the baby boy again.|

|Trying to labor standing up so gravity can help bring baby down.|

|This picture makes me laugh out loud. Look how lopsided my belly is because of the contraction.|

|Checking that heartbeat.|

After laboring for a bit longer, Jean said she wanted to check me to see if breaking the water had helped me to make more progress. While she was checking, I began to have another contraction. All I remember is yelling at her to get out of me—but she didn’t. She stayed in and was doing something that hurt worse than anything I had felt yet. After the contraction was over, she looked at me and said, “Congrats. You are now at a 6.” (I found out later that she manually took my cervix from a 5 to a 6—that’s why it hurt so bad. This, combined with the pain she inflicted while she was sweeping my membranes, is how Jean became known as Jean McMeanFingers in our household.)

|Chris was so sweet.|

|Nursing bra and Depends is the hot new look.|

|The nausea really got bad at this point, hence the barf bucket in my arms.|

Since I was now at a 6, Jean and Patty (our amazing birth assistant) started filling up the giant bathtub. They wouldn’t let me get in earlier because sometimes it can slow labor down if you get in too early—and things were already slow enough at the beginning. The tub helped some with the pain. I got into a position that helped take some of the pressure off my back (still having back labor at this point) and the warmth from the water felt good on my belly. I labored in the water with Chris by my side holding my hand during each monster of a contraction.

|In between contractions.|

|He didn’t leave my side.|

|Holding a cool cloth to my head. It was really warm in the tub.|

|Trying a different position. This one didn’t work very well.|

|Focusing on getting through each contraction one at a time and telling myself that labor wasn’t going to last forever really helped my mental state at this point of labor.|

Our family and friends started showing up. My Dad and Valerie were the first to arrive. I remember Valerie coming in and sitting down with Chris and Amy, and then my Dad walking in and touching me on the head and telling me that he was there. Apparently, I yelled at him and told him to get out. I had a strict no dudes (other than Chris) policy. I vaguely remember others coming in and sitting around with everyone. No one dared talk to me—I guess they were scared of getting yelled at.

|Daddy, Amanda, and Lauren. I didn’t realize it at the time, but they were sitting on the other side of the room. I guess I was a little distracted.|

|It was so freaking hot in that tub. Chris and Valerie fanning me with kneeling pads and me holding a cold cloth to my face.|

I’m not sure exactly how long I labored in the water. Probably about 2 hours. I still have some difficulty remembering everything that happened during transition (from 6 to 10 cm). I remember feeling confused and discouraged and having trouble communicating through the pain. I was extremely nauseous and thought I was going to puke several times. The water in the tub was warm… and making me feel too hot. They got wash cloths, dipped them in ice water and would hand them to me to put on my forehead and the back of my neck. I had a steady stream of these freezing cold washcloths coming for most of the entire time I was in the tub. I also remember people using the kneeling pad things to fan me. And being very thirsty and asking for water a lot. I feel like I was very demanding… but am told that I was very polite about it even though I was only able to bark out one word at a time.

|They don’t lie when they say that transition is the worst part of labor.|

|My cheerleaders. Patty, Jean, Chris, and Valerie.|

|Patty, talking me through the hardest part of labor. Reminding me that it’s almost over. I could not have done it without her.|

As I got closer to 10 cm, the pain got more and more unbearable. I started moaning to help with the pain. Each time I would have a contraction, I would moan and try to focus on the vibrations from my vocal cords. I don’t know why I started moaning… it’s almost like my conscious mind was taken out of the equation and my body took over and started doing what it needed to do to get me through the rest of labor. I remember Patty telling me that it wasn’t going to get any worse than what it was. The next contraction was worse. I yelled out, “Patty’s a dirty liar!” I also vaguely remember telling everyone that I needed to poop. They kept telling me that it was just the baby’s head coming down. **TMI WARNING** I didn’t believe them and decided that I was going to poop in their tub to teach them a lesson. I started pushing and it miraculously made the contractions feel better. I kept pushing and told Patty and Jean that I was planning on taking a dump in their tub. They encouraged me to do what my body was telling me to do. (Looking back on it I realize how patient my midwife and birth assistant were with my crazy ass. I love them.) This was when things got real intense. I remember being in so much pain that my moans turned into quivering whimpers. I didn’t think I could take much more. I’m pretty sure I also told everyone that this whole birth thing was a bad idea. (Channeling my inner Anchorman, of course… Birth was bad choice!!!!) This is when Patty came over to check me. The baby’s head was right there at the opening… we were ready to get him out!

|Patty checking.|

Jean decided that she wanted me out of the tub for the delivery. I still don’t know why. I told them that they were crazy if they thought that I was going to be able to get out of the tub. I was sure that the baby would just fall out of me if I stood up… if only it were that easy! I told Patty to tell everyone to get the hell out of the room. At this point I was still trying to hold onto some semblance of my modesty and I knew that if I stood up, everyone would see my girlie parts. If I only knew what was just around the corner.

|You want me to go where?!|

|Saved by Patty’s calming presence, yet again.|

Chris and Patty helped me get to the bed and get my wet nursing bra off. At some point while we were getting ready to push, people started coming back in the room. Chris and Patty were at my left side holding my leg, and Deborah (Chris’s Momma) was chosen to hold up my right leg. I remembered that I wanted the birth videoed and told Valerie to get my sister and give her our video camera. Valerie went out to find Lauren, but she was not in the waiting room… so she got my Dad instead. There went my strict no dude policy right out the window. Next thing I knew, I looked up and everyone was standing around my bed… talk about feeling like you are putting on a show for everyone. Amanda even had Hima on the phone so she could hear the birth (since she was on her way to Texas from California). Luckily, my main concern at that moment was getting the baby out… I would deal with the fact that everyone was going to see my giant, monster-like vagina later.

The pushing part of labor is much of a blur, like transition. I remember being paranoid that I was going to poop in front of everyone. I also remember feeling like the baby was coming out of my butt and being very vocal about it. I was pushing and his little head would come out and then go back in when I would stop pushing. I cried, “Why does he keep going back in?? He’s not a turtle!” Jean and Patty tried to get me to touch his head as it was coming out. I did, but was immediately freaked out because it did not feel like what I thought it should feel like. In fact, it grossed me out a little bit. It was too squishy. I vaguely remember everyone cheering me on and I felt like they kept telling me that “he’s almost out” to the point where I stopped believing them. I remember feeling the ring of fire and thinking to myself about how appropriate that term truly is. Then Jean looked at me and told me that the baby’s heart rate was dropping during contractions and she was going to have to cut an episiotomy if I couldn’t get him out in the next 2 pushes. Here’s another moment when my stubborn side kicked in because there was no way I was going to be cut. I summoned everything in me and pushed that baby out.

|Deborah holding up one leg while Patty helped me push the correct way.|

|Still pushing.|

|Chris kept trying to think of different things to say to encourage me.|

|Here comes the head! Love the look on Deborah’s face!|

|The head is out. Jean is pulling the cord from around his neck.|

Once his head was out, Chris stepped in and delivered the rest of him (with Jean’s help, of course). Chris immediately put Logan on my chest and he stayed there until his cord stopped pulsing. When it did, Chris got to cut it. I am so thankful that he was able to be such an active participant in the birth of our son. So, after 33 minutes of pushing, Logan was born into the hands of his proud Daddy. His Gramps, Gram, Nana, the Aunt Laurens, Aunt Amy, and Aunt Amanda helped cheer us on; Aunt Hima was listening (and crying) on the phone; and his Pop Pop, Uncle Derek, and Aunt Ashley waited in the family room. And countless other friends and family members waited by their phones (or FaceBook) for updates and sent happy thoughts and prayers our way. It was a beautiful moment for our little family and we are so lucky that we were surrounded by so much love and support.