Blaise's Birth: Part 10

Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Part 3 is here.
Part 4 is here.
Part 5 is here.
Part 6 is here.
Part 7 is here.
Part 8 is here.
Part 9 is here.

Bryan helps me climb on to the bed so that my midwife, Elaine, can check my cervix.  I only have a minute or two between contractions so she understands the need to be quick, and she is, smiling at me as she announces that I've progressed very well.

"Nine or nine-and-a-half centimeters," she says, then asks if she may go ahead and break my water now.

I've read about the risks of early amniotomy (infection, cord compression, etc) but since I figured an intact sac this late in labor would never happen to me, I haven't researched whether it's a good idea to break it now.  I trust Elaine, though, and figure there's no reason not to have her break the sac for me; I've been expecting it to break any minute this whole time anyway, since the resident declared it "bulging" hours ago.

After Elaine uses the hook to break the bag, there is a small gush of fluid, nothing like what I experienced at the beginning of my labor with Camilla.  The midwife says this is because the baby's head is already so far down.  And I believe it.  I can feel the pressure.

Finding out I am so near to the end is heartening and rejuvenating.  It's well after 4:30am. (There are two clocks in the room, an analog and a digital, and they're telling times about twenty minutes apart.  I'll find out later that it's the analog that is correct, but during my labor I am continually confused about what time it is.)  We've now been at the hospital for four-and-a-half hours.

The midwife and the nurse ask if I'd like to get back off the bed.  Elaine says she noticed in my birth plan that I thought I might like to try pushing in different positions, and she's happy to do whatever I want.

And oddly, with the options open to me, I find what I really want to do is stay on the bed.  I'm sitting cross-legged which seems to relieve some of the pressure of the baby's head, and I think I'm as comfortable as I can get for now.

The lights are dim in the room.  Bryan has pulled his chair next to the bed and is sitting to the left of me, holding my hand between contractions and offering his support and encouragement.  Elaine perches on a stool near the foot of the bed, no urgency about her: she's just hanging out and making conversation while we wait for my body to do its thing.  Ros, comfortably quiet and competent, is moving things around and getting ready for the birth.

I'm in regular and excruciating pain, so it's strange that I am reveling in this moment.  Later I will remember it as the most peaceful time of my labor.  My spirits have lifted since I found out that we are so close to the finish line.  I have no doubts that we can make it there.  I am loving having Bryan close to me, loving the knowledge that we have weathered this labor on our own, loving the strength of our marriage and our family in this moment.  I am happily anticipating getting to meet our son.

It's labor as a metaphor for life: enduring the hard for the good, turning the hard into good.

The contractions are just as painful as ever, but now that I know how well they are working, how close they are getting me, I am having a much easier time enduring them.  During each one I close my eyes, tip my head back, rock side to side.  I am abiding them, and as each one passes I welcome the peace that follows it.

Elaine and Ros both tell us that it is a pleasure to be with us for this birth.  We seem so happy, so peaceful, they say.  "Births like this are the reason I became an L&D nurse," Ros tells us, and with the hormones coursing through my body it is all I can do not to burst into gratified tears.  Both women are contributing so much to my good experience of this labor that I am happy to know it is a good experience for them too.

I probably ride about ten contractions while I'm on the bed, and one of them is milder than the others, ending about fifteen seconds early.  I can feel it starting to ease unexpectedly and I smile with my eyes still closed as I come out of it.

"I can't believe you were just smiling during a contraction," Elaine grins at me.  "This is unbelievable!"

And as much as I insist that I was smiling after the contraction, I'll find later that my smile has inadvertently made me the story of the night in the L&D ward.

Elaine isn't going to check me again; she says my body will tell us when it's time to push.  I know mere rectal pressure doesn't necessarily mean we're there yet - I've been feeling that for a while - but as time passes the downward force is getting stronger with each contraction.  With the last few of them I get frantic, wringing my hands and whining a little.  I'm definitely starting to lose my cool.

I'm struck, again this time, by the strangeness of this whole prospect.  The force of the pressure is so strong that it seems impossible my body is still intact.  And yet somehow I'm going to push a baby out of me?  And then afterward I will feel better?  Incredibly bizarre.

But during contractions I'm beyond thinking about that.  Finally one of them hits that increases the pressure so much I can no longer hold my cross-legged position.  I almost jump out of it onto my knees.  "I think it's time!" I say, shakily but forcefully.

Elaine is reaching for her gloves, Ros is moving equipment around.  I vaguely register another nurse or two coming into the room.

This baby is going to come out.

Part 11 is here.

Comments

[Liz]

Okay...I *know* what happens; eventually the baby comes OUT! Being that I've personally witnessed the photographic evidence of such, I cannot buh-lieve that I am absolutely breathless with anticipation for 'what happens next'! Your writing is just phenomenal.

On another note, I don't know if this is accidental or on purpose, but I am just loving the process of learning your sibs' 'real' names...your parents were SO clever!

[Sarah in Ottawa]

I was the exact same way with respect to pushing - I assumed I'd want the flexibility to move around, but I LOVED being on the bed and resting in between contractions. I pushed for 3 hours, so I really needed that rest!

I can't wait to read the next installment!

[Tracy]

This has been such an enjoyable birth story to read. It makes me smile to see another installment!

[Nancy from Indiana]

The birth story is great! I'm enjoying reading each installment immensely!

I don't Twitter, but re: Blaise's reflux and comfort nursing. If you're comfortable with it, have you tried a pacifier? It might fulfill his need to suck without being so hard on his tummy. My first had absolutely no interest in a pacifier so I didn't think about it with my second for quite a while, but when I did, he loved it. It didn't interfere with nursing at all and was great for his need to suck during the first 3-6 months. Just a thought to try...take care!

[MichelleRenee]

This is so exciting with all the detail. I keep checking in for an installment!

I had 3 C-sections. All 3 births could be told in ONE installment.

[Luann]

anxiously keep checking twice a day for part 11.

[Salome Ellen]

Me and Luann :-D
Love, Mom

[T]

I'm going mad waiting for the next installment!