Birth Story

His birth story- our birth story- begins with a move to Arizona, a dream accomplished, another dream begins. It starts the moment my mom gets diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It begins the weekend I head to the ER with half of my face paralyzed, my husband by my side, my daughter in my arms, my midwife holding my hand and my son moving in my belly.

All of these things are on my mind as I lay in bed at 5am on a Tuesday morning, watching some Netflix documentary I probably would never watch at any other time (Craigslist Joe) in between timing my contractions (contractionmaster.com).

This will be the first one in the little family we've created to be born outside of Washington. An Arizona baby. He won't grow up traipsing through the woods and climbing trees like his parents. He will grow up in the desert, hunting scorpions and snakes for fun while his mom frets and wrings her hands and hopes he doesn't sneak them into the house. He will grow up spending his summers (and springs and autumns) in the pool; riding bikes and hiking during the temperate, short winters. He will be born in a city far away from any of his grandparents, or aunts and uncles, or cousins, but he will be loved anyway.

And my mom... she is heavy on my mind. When I was pregnant with Charlotte she was there for the two weeks prior, helping me clean and feel comfortable, buying groceries for us and making meals. She was there cheering me on when Charlotte was on her way into this world, and cried with Kyle and me when Charlotte finally took her first breath.

I haven't seen her since before her cancer diagnosis. With the baby due any day, I couldn't leave town to be with her after her surgery. When mom was in recovery from her big surgery, my dad called me and said he wished I were there, and I heard in his voice how much he meant it. I hung up the phone and cried. I couldn't be by her side, either, when she went to get her hair cut for the first time. I couldn't sit with her through the 8 hours of her first chemo appointment. Someone else was with her and I'm grateful she had them... but I wished it were me there with her. She has always been there for me and I wanted to be there for her.

My son will never know the person my mother was before her cancer. After he is born, she will be someone stronger. He will always know his grandma as a cancer survivor. She will be there to watch him grow up, and he will be grateful.

I want her at my birth. I miss her. I worry I can't do it without her.

But I can.

I glance at the dresser in our bedroom from where I am lying on the bed alone. Next to a wedding picture of Kyle and I and a photo of Charlotte is a card from Mom to me. I see it from across the room and feel connected to her. I wonder if it is too early to call her. 5:00am our time, 4am in Nevada. Definitely too early. I count down the time until I can call her.

Kyle has just left for work. He said he will try to get an hour in of work (to make up for getting off an hour early the day before) and if I'm still feeling contractions he will come home. I told him it was ok, the contractions would probably go away. I've already had a couple of nights of "false labor" and so far it hasn't led to anything. I'm only 39 weeks and 4 days along and Charlotte was born 4 days late. I don't expect to be early with this one, either.

As I watch my documentary and breathe through contractions, my mind drifts to Friday evening, just four days earlier, when I was in the hospital. That morning I had woken up unable to close my right eye all the way. By evening the whole right side of my face wouldn't move. Google suggested Bells Palsy and I called my midwife, who suggested the ER. She asked if I would like her to meet me there. Trying not to cry I said I would really appreciate it if she would. I told her I was scared. She told me not to be. I called my mom to let her know what was going on. I told her I was scared. She told me not to be.

Thank goodness Stephanie was there. She knew where to go and who to ask for. I would have been lost, physically, mentally and emotionally without her there. We were in Labor and Delivery for a few hours while they monitored Baby (he was perfect), watched my blood pressure which was high (thanks to white coat syndrome) and waited for lab results. Only one person was allowed back with me and since Stephanie knew the territory a little more than we did, Kyle stayed in the waiting room with Charlotte. My midwife held and massaged my hand, smoothed my forehead, gave me a washcloth to hold over my dry eye and was a wonderful spokesperson for me.

We could hear a woman in labor in the same room as us, separated by only a curtain. Her nurse told her she was dilated 5cm and she asked for an epidural. She sounded miserable and uncomfortable and stuck. I laid there hooked to monitors, covered only by an awkward hospital gown and tried to imagine being in labor and giving birth there. I told Stephanie I was happy for people who felt comfortable in the hospital but that I felt sorry for women who didn't want to be there but didn't know there were other options. She said she did, too. The hospital is a wonderful place to give birth if you have a risky pregnancy or if you feel the most safe and comfortable there. I fell into neither of those categories. I couldn't wait to get back home.

The OB confirmed it was Bells Palsy and could last for 3 weeks or as long as 6 months. He prescribed steroids and an antiviral and home we went.

Now, early Tuesday morning at home, in my pjs in my own bed, I feel a contraction pull me from my thoughts. It gets stronger and I breathe out with a vocal "ooooh" like an owl. This is the first contraction I've had to vocalize with so far. I look at the clock- 5:15. Crap. 45 minutes before Kyle gets his one hour of work in. The contraction eases and I go back to my documentary. I feel the next contraction coming and this one is stronger- the contraction timer says it has only been 3 minutes since the last one. That's weird, if it weren't real labor they wouldn't be getting closer together. I wonder if I should call Kyle home. I close my eyes and try to ignore it and rest but that isn't going to happen. Another contraction, and another, and suddenly it is 5:30 and I don't want to be alone anymore.

I call Kyle.
He answers, "Hello?"
I decide the niceties are a waste of breath and dive right in with, "I don't care if you have to take a sick day. I don't want to be alone anymore."
"Ok," he says, "I will pack up my stuff and head home."

I call our doula, Crystal, who also has the birth pool, and then our midwife, Stephanie. I tell her I'm not sure if I'm in labor or not but I'd feel more comfortable with everyone there.

I call my mom, too. "I think I'm in labor," I say. "I hope I can do this."
"You can," she says.
I can.
I miss her.
I try not to cry.

I hang up the phone and wait for everyone.

I wait for Kyle. It feels like forever. I decide to mix it up a little and try ranting, "SERIOUSLY Kyle where ARE you?" during a contraction. It feels better than owl noises so I use it during several more contractions.

I hear Kyle walk in the door during a contraction. I stop mid-rant and go back to making hooting owl noises so he can feel good about how fast he made it home.

I am sitting on my blue chair downstairs when my midwife knocks quietly on the door. "Come in," I say. She comes in and I ask her if she's had breakfast. I show her where the coffee and muffins are and she sits down to eat one at the table. I feel chipper and excited and nervous that I've called everyone over for no reason. Then I get a contraction and remember why I've called everyone over. My midwife comments that it doesn't sound to her like my labor will be going away.

Crystal comes in and heads upstairs to set up the birth pool. Stephanie and Crystal unload their supplies and Kyle is a whirl of movement. I'm not sure what all he is doing. He runs up and down the stairs. He double makes our bed (good sheets on the bottom, water proof plastic on top of those and an old pair of sheets over the plastic.) He lets the dog out. He lets the dog in. He gets Charlotte up, puts her in her high chair and feeds her some eggs for breakfast. He runs up and down the stairs some more. He makes a couple of eggs for me and I eat those and a piece of toast with peanut butter. They taste good and I'm surprised by how hungry I am.

Charlotte watches me have a contraction from her high chair and uses her hands to sign, "all done". If only it were that easy, dear daughter. Our friend Tara arrives at 7 and takes Charlotte. Immediately after Charlotte is gone I miss her.

After several trips to the bathroom I sit upstairs in the other blue chair in our bedroom and watch Crystal fill the birth pool. It is round, deep, and blue. She hooks a hose to the sink and fills it from the bathtub so she can control the temperature. She tells me I can get in but I want to get checked first so Stephanie checks me and says I'm 5cm dilated.
 "Now do you believe me that this is real labor?" she asks.
"Yes," I say.
My baby is coming.

As soon as Crystal is done filling up the pool I put on my bikini top and climb in. It's the same feeling I remember from my first labor... I climb into the hot water and sink down up to my chin and I can't help but give a sigh of great relief. The water feels SO good! It supports my weight and distributes it more evenly so the contractions don't feel so concentrated and strong.

Kyle puts on Phil Coulter on the CD player and kneels by the side of the birth pool. He puts his hand on my forehead during contractions and wipes my forehead with a cool wash cloth in between. My doula makes sure my water bottle is full; I am thirsty and drink a lot of water in between each contraction. I rest on my back and focus.

At some point my midwife's assistant, Gwen, arrives. She and Stephanie take turns monitoring my baby's heart beat. It is strong and healthy and it calms me to hear it. Stephanie notices this and checks it more often just because I like to hear him. Crystal takes photographs with my camera.

He is active, moving around, kicking his feet all the way up to my ribs. I love feeling him move. He is participating in his own birth. But at the same time it is uncomfortable and makes my contractions feel stronger. I talk to him and tell him he is a good baby. I tell him to stop moving around so much but he does it anyway.

I hold combs in my hand and squeeze them during contractions to distract me. I smell my peppermint essential oil when I feel nauseated. I switch from my back to leaning over the side of the pool and back again. Crystal empties some of the pool water and refills it with warmer water when I get chilly. I focus on Phil Coulter. In the background of his music some voices sing in a high pitch. I comment that they aren't doing it right, lower pitched humming is more effective during labor. High pitches are a waste of energy. I think I say this aloud but it might just be in my head. Either way it makes me feel better to think silly things. I comb Kyle's hair when I'm not squeezing my combs and he laughs which makes me feel better, too. 

I watch the clock. I don't like that I am a clock watcher during labor but it helps me for some reason so I do it. I like details like this.

At 8:30, three and a half hours into my labor, I say, "If this baby wants to arrive sooner than his sister did he better come out within the next half hour." 

The clock hands keep moving forward. 

Time gets confused in my head. I ask Stephanie to check me again and I am 6cm dilated. I feel disappointed that it has taken two hours to dilate one cm. I don't know if it has been two hours or not but I think it has been. 

I comment on how different this labor is from my labor with Charlotte. I complain that this labor is taking longer. Crystal says, "This baby wants his own story."

Our bedroom door is open and Stephanie and Gwen are in the hallway whispering quietly. Crystal and Kyle stay by the pool with me. Stephanie can hear me from the hallway and I ask her, how I will know if my water breaks? With Charlotte it was broken artificially by my then midwife so I don't know what it feels like spontaneously. She says I might not even notice it, or it could be a big gush.

Minutes later during a contraction my water pops. In the middle of the contraction I say, "OH, MY WATER BROKE" and immediately I feel the contraction get sharper. Stephanie and Gwen come into the room. Stephanie sits on the bed by the pool and asks if I remember what my contractions feel like with my water broken. She reminds me they will be much sharper and stronger now. I notice she and Gwen have their gloves on but I don't know if they have just put them on or if they've been on for awhile. I think it is a good sign, that maybe they are getting ready for the baby, but then remember I am only 6cm dilated. 

Nobody leaves the room again that I notice, except to refill my water bottle. Kyle leaves once to let the dog out of the house for a break but is back before my next contraction. At the end of the next contraction I feel a bit pushy and I say so. My birth team encourages me but I wait instead. I am afraid to push too early.

Kyle is my focal point and I hold his hand and look in his eyes during each contraction. 

I close my eyes and rest in between contractions. Stephanie or someone comments that I am getting nice breaks in between. I don't answer aloud but agree in my head. I wonder to myself how long my labor will be; I feel tired. The contractions remain at the same level as they have been since my water broke and I realize I have reached the plateau that most women reach around 7 or 8 cm- my contractions aren't getting any stronger. I feel relieved because they are hard to manage but I am managing them and they won't get any stronger than this. 

At some point I say, "What if it's not a boy?" Everyone laughs. "It's a boy," they say. "And even if it isn't you will love your baby anyway."

One contraction at a time. Feel it coming, open my eyes, look at Kyle, breathe, feel it peak, breathe more, feel it ease, feel it completely disappear. Kyle or Crystal wipes my forehead and neck, I drink water, lean back and close my eyes. Rest for just a moment. Feel the next one coming....

A few times the thought pops into my head... I can't do this. I open my mouth and contradict it. "I can do this," I say.
"Yes you can," everyone says. "You already ARE doing it." 

I think several times about asking Stephanie to check me again. I wait awhile longer. Finally I ask. She checks me and says, "Kari, you can push your baby out when you are ready."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"When you're ready you can push your baby out," she says again.

"I'm a 10?" I ask her several times.

"Yes, I think you have been for quite awhile."
"But I haven't been through transition yet!" I say. By this I mean that I haven't thrown up, or had the chills like I did with Charlotte during transition. All this time I have waited for it, thinking I was still at a 6 because I hadn't felt transition yet.

I ask Stephanie why I haven't felt the urge to push like I did so strongly during Charlotte's labor. She says maybe I just haven't been ready yet. She suggest I try to push during a couple of contractions.

I feel excited and renewed. I ask for a scarf. Kyle pulls one end and I pull the other- this was a successful method I used when laboring with Charlotte. 

After a couple of contractions I decide I don't want the scarf anymore. I lean over the pool again and hold on to the handles on the side. I pull on them to push.

Stephanie tells me my baby is going to be here soon. "He is going to be so cute," she says.

Cute!? I think.
I correct her, "He is going to be frickin' ADORABLE."

Voices- my birth team- tell me how great I am doing and how amazing I am.

I feel a contraction coming. I push and can't stop. The contraction is overwhelming and powerful. Not painful, just forceful. Bigger than me and I can't stop it. Crystal, sitting by the pool in front of me, reads my mind. "No contraction is bigger than you because it IS you." she says. I turn this over in my mind and channel my panic into my push. I vocalize into it. I roar like a bear. I roar like I am in battle.

Stephanie has a flash light and tells Kyle to look. They tell me they can see his head and that I can feel it if I want to. I reach down and touch his head, so soft and smooth. SO close. 

I have one or two more contractions like this and suddenly his head is out. I cry out in relief and think I am done but his body doesn't slip out like Charlotte's did after her head was born. I don't want to wait for the next contraction so I try pushing with my own power. I want him OUT! Stephanie asks if she can help me a bit. "YES," I say. She eases out a shoulder and the rest of his body slips out.... 

Our baby is born... he slips out into his Daddy's waiting hands, his little eyes shut tight. 

Kyle, my husband who has knelt on his knees by me for the past 7 and a half hours, catches our baby and passes him, still completely submerged under the water, into my arms. I reach for him and suddenly he is out of the water and I'm lifting him onto my chest... I lift my baby out of the water and he is in my arms.

I cry with half my face but I don't care, my husband cries with me, our baby cries with us- a strong hearty cry- we did it, all of us, and our baby is here... Finley Robert Hanks has arrived.

Stephanie shows us the umbilical cord, still attached, thick and blue as blood flows through it to our baby. We can feel our baby's pulse through the cord. 

This is why babies can be born safely under water. They continue to receive their oxygen through the cord, just like in the womb. For the baby, being born into water is just passing from the water in the womb to water in the pool. The baby's lungs are not inflated. In the womb the blood flows from the placenta and across the baby's heart but most of it does not reach the lungs. When cool air hits a newborn's body their lungs expand, the bypass chamber in the heart constricts and the oxygenated blood flows to the lungs with its first cry. The umbilical cord will slowly stop pulsing on its own.

After the placenta is delivered, after the cord stops pulsing, Kyle cuts it. He is ready to hold his son.

 

Stephanie asks Kyle to hold Finley skin to skin to help keep his body temperature regulated.

When we are ready, Stephanie takes him for his stats and check up at the foot of our bed. Crystal brings me a plate of snacks- an apple, cheese, crackers and some toast.

Stephanie holds our baby- she has waited almost as long as we have to meet him- and sings Happy Birthday to him, and puts on his little hat that she made just for him, and it is so sweet that I cry more, then I take my baby and nurse him for the first time with his little hat on. 

Crystal was right- this baby wanted his own story. But because he's just a baby, he won't even remember it. So from the point of view of his mama... I write it down for him. 

Welcome to the world, Finley.