When I Became a Mommy

***Just a reminder that my first contest will end on June 6th at 8pm EST. You do not need to be a regular commenter to win!***

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I find birth stories fascinating. We all come into this world in a unique way, and the story of our beginnings link us, through our mothers, to all our ancestors before us. This chain, this crazy web of stories, is a reminder of the vastness of human history, and the small but significant role we each play in the eternal drama, The Story of Us.

My son was not planned, but very much wanted. When I found out I was pregnant, I cried with joy. My husband was not as excited, but believe me, he came along in time. Throughout my pregnancy, I saw an OB-GYN (or, more appropriately, a set of 12 OBs), yet never felt like it was a good "fit." So, around 32 weeks or so, I switched to a team of midwives at a birth center. From the beginning, they were fantastic. Just feeling comfortable with them helped me relax about the upcoming delivery.

I was still teaching at the time. School let out just 3 days before my due date - and yes, I was able to finish out the school year! On my due date I was at the school, packing the last of my boxes. One day "post-date" I wandered around my apartment, wondering what to do with myself. The next day I went to the library and took out a bunch of literary classics, figuring I should at least do something productive. But of course, I never touched them.

The following morning, a Tuesday, I awoke at 3am with a strong contraction. Awake again at 4. By 6am, when my husband should have been getting up to begin his day, I knew this was it and told him to call out. 9am found us walking the neighborhood. Already I needed to stop with each contraction. I remembered what the midwives had said - eat, take a shower, change position, try to sleep - those were the four things they wanted me to do to "make sure" this was it. I did it all. And the contractions kept coming. Shortly after that, I decided I needed my husband's counter-pressure on my back for each and every contraction. Ouch!

In the early afternoon, we called the midwives to let them know what was happening. I had reached the 5-1-1 point (contractions 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute, for 1 hour), but felt I was okay to continue at home. I soon reached 4-1-1, but wanted to stay where I was. Around 7pm, we decided to head to the birth center. I remember the bumpy car ride, and the fact that my contractions slowed down during the drive.

When we arrived, the midwife on call checked to see where I was. "You've barely dilated at all. Maybe half a centimeter. You should head home and try to get some sleep tonight." I probably could've hit her, I was so discouraged. But home we went. And thankfully, my contractions slowed to about every 10-12 minutes ALL NIGHT LONG. My sisters were both at the house, sleeping in the living room. Every other contraction sent me through that room on my way to the bathroom and I just remember apologizing every time I woke them up.

I couldn't believe I had to go through another day of back labor and being tired. I felt frustrated because we had done everything "right" and waited until 5-1-1 to no avail! What were we supposed to look for now? Pretty quickly that morning (Wednesday now), I reached the 5-1-1 stage, and then 4-1-1. Poor hubby was massaging my back, putting pressure on my back, practically standing on my back, doing everything he could for me! I remember taking a shower and basically just having one long contraction the whole time.

5pm we decided to head back to the birth center. Our car wouldn't start. I'm not kidding. We tried and tried but it just didn't want to do it. I remember one of us praying. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was aloud, or maybe not. But thankfully, the car started. I remember my husband saying something about seeing my grandmother drive by.... Thankfully the contractions didn't slow this time. But when I was checked, I was still only at 3cm. They usually send you home if you're not at 5, but the midwife must have known we were going crazy. She let us stay.

Shortly thereafter she came in the room to tell me that my grandmother was here and wanted to see me. I looked at her in disbelief. What?? I had told my family that I didn't want them at the birth center. The idea of them being just a room away was too much to handle. Hubby went out and told her I was fine and that we'd call when the baby came. She was hurt, but left. What we didn't realize until later was how upset our families were. For obvious reasons, we didn't communicate with them as much as they'd have liked. Oops.

I got into the birthing tub within the hour and spent the better part of the next 7 HOURS lying in the water, swaying back and forth, falling asleep between contractions. I'd get out to go to the bathroom and feel my weight all over again. I couldn't believe how heavy I was! But the water was fantastic. It helped the back pain so much, and allowed my poor husband to take a much-needed break. I'm pretty sure he was falling asleep between contractions too.

During transition time, the point where the movies have Mom yelling "I hate you!" and "This is all your fault!" at Dad, I turned to my husband and said "this is really hard." [And let me pause here to tell you that I never hated him in all of it. He was my coach and cheerleader and I couldn't have done it without him. He truly was amazing.]

Around midnight I swear the midwife told me to start pushing. My husband swears she never did, I just started pushing. I remember thinking back on our birth classes and the instructions on pushing - breathe once, twice, then push as long as you can, and breathe through the rest of the contraction. It didn't seem to be working for me. I remember saying at one point "I don't know if I'm doing this right." In hindsight, I'd say that I wasn't waiting for the contraction to build to its peak. I was pushing a bit early in the contraction and then trying to breathe through the hardest part.

At 2am (Thursday morning), the midwife said she wanted me to head across the street to the hospital. I had been pushing for 2 hours, but the baby hadn't moved at all. How depressing. First she tried to give me an IV to see if fluids would help - but she blew out two of my veins before deciding just to head over to the hospital. So there I was - pushing-stage labor, trying to climb onto a stretcher so they could wheel me across the street in the middle of the night. My eyes were closed the whole time. I know only that they banged me into the wall a few times.

Once in the hospital I was hooked up to an IV and a bunch of monitors I had been hoping to avoid. It was 2:30. Around 3:45, the midwife said we needed to start thinking about an epidural. She says that I'd been using all these muscles and they were bound to fatigue at some point. She also said that this might wind up a c-section, as the baby still hadn't moved.

And that was it. The jump-start my body needed. I felt the difference right away. My son was finally coming! At 4:11am (49 hours after that very first contraction), my sweet little boy was born into this world. His head was turned, revealing to us the reason for the back labor and the 4 hours of pushing. But he was great. He didn't cry right away, just looked around peacefully. When they handed him to me, I wanted to nurse right away, but he wasn't acting interested. I didn't know enough to push the nurse to help me. We took a few pictures, the nurse and midwife left us alone, and my husband promptly fell asleep. I lay there, holding my son in my arms and literally seeing double. I was exhausted and knew only that nothing would ever be the same again.

In case you're wondering, I'll save my second birth story for later in the month!