Victory

There is no greater story than that of the beginning of life. I can honestly say the 5 best and MOST AMAZING days of my life where the days my children were born. My oldest, Eden was born in 2003. Indiana, my only son, followed 16 months later in July of 2004 and then Olivia…our “last child” came 18 months after that in 2006. I miscarried a pregnancy in 2009 and made a personal realization that I was very content with my little family of 3 children. A very knowledgeable Father in Heaven knew otherwise and blessed us with Tatum in July of 2010. I KNEW I was done and threatened to kill my husband if he ever did it to me again. Rob is still alive and well which is a miracle since we welcomed our 5^th and hopefully last child in May 2012. I am completely beside myself with joy and yet I am so overwhelmed at the same time. Each of my children has received their fair share of the spotlight and now it is baby #5’s turn. This is the story of Hazel’s entrance into our family.

I didn’t even start seeing my midwife until I was 32 weeks along. I don’t think it was defiance, just a trust in my own health and abilities. I was hoping for a financial miracle by waiting and that actually came due to my patience. Since I skipped 32 weeks of prenatal care, my midwife graciously cut $1000 off the bill. The closest hospital I called wanted $20,000 for a 24-hour stay and my midwife’s total cost was $2300. You do the math! Was it going to be painful? Very. Scary? For sure. Easy? Not in the least. Worth it? Totally!

The first 3 months were the hardest months of my life. I really struggled with this pregnancy, not physically but mentally and emotionally. I won’t go into the psychological drama but I came out of the fire a stronger, smarter, kinder woman with a desire to prove I was superwoman. When you have 5 kids, you have to be. Due May 23^rd, March and April turned out to be beyond exhausting. If I had a battery light, it would have been blinking at around 12%.

I was in the depths of barely breathing. There is no comparison to that kind of tired. Trust me. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that this would pass and I was on the home stretch. The counting of the weeks and doctor’s appointments was almost over…this was happening whether I liked it or not.

On Tuesday, May 15^th, I started having mild contractions that were a step above Braxton Hicks. I barely gave them a second thought. By Wednesday afternoon, I was slightly intrigued by the idea of having this baby a bit early but didn’t get my hopes up too much. That night, I started going into labor. It freaked me out a little bit and I will tell you why. My bedroom was a mess!!! Deciding to birth this one at home, just like I did with Tatum, I knew there needed to be a certain amount of order where the birth takes place. As I laid in bed that night contracting, my mind started racing. I had piles and piles of laundry that I had not had energy to fold, paperwork wasn’t finished, bed sheets weren’t ready, bathroom wasn’t clean, etc. I could NOT have this baby tonight. My first obsessive compulsive thought was that if I went into labor and my darling husband “helped” me out by moving baskets of clean laundry out of the room, they would get put in kids rooms where they would be intermixed with dirty laundry because I wouldn’t be able to supervisee and weeks later, when I had energy to get back to laundry, there would be no discernment between dirty and clean and therefore, tons and tons of laundry. AND, I hadn’t bought nursing pads yet and I wasn’t about to try and describe the exact ones to buy to Rob when I needed them so that needed to be done. I just couldn’t have that kind of stress with a new baby so I subconsciously told myself to stop having contractions. I had things to do and vowed I would get it all done the next day. I slept well that night.

The next day, I spent hours in my room. Folding, sorting, stacking, cleaning, organizing, washing, and making the bed. I was going to be ready. Sure enough, those contractions came back and I told my neighbor that if I was a betting woman, I would bet the baby would come by the weekend.

That night I stopped in to the local drug store, bought my nursing pads and then went to my weekly meeting and stopped several times during to take deep breaths through medium severity contractions. The three woman I was with were joking that I would have that baby by morning. I went home, talked to the husband for a few minutes and headed to bed around 11pm. As I laid there, my nerves and senses suddenly went into hyper overload. I had restless leg syndrome, I kept tossing and turning, the contractions were strong yet far apart, my skin itched, the baby was doing Tae Bo on my ribs, my back ached, I was shivering and then sweating. Just after midnight Rob came to bed and within 17 seconds was snoring. I GIVE UP! I shot out of bed with a bitter tossing of the covers, threw on my lop-sided glasses and slowly waddled down the stairs to the kitchen for some food. I sat in front of the computer for a few minutes, hoping the contractions would die down but the longer I sat, the more feisty the baby got. I warmed up yesterday’s frozen pancakes, poured on some syrup, got half way through one and instantly felt disgusted as a contraction hit. At 12:35am, I began recording on paper my contractions. 12:35, 12:38, 12:42, 12:47…uh oh. Those are too close. I hobbled upstairs, woke Rob and told him it was time. He asked me what I wanted him to do. I told him, “Just get up.” 12:51, 12:55, 2:57…I started pointing at things. “Get out the birthing kit. Put that plastic sheet over the covers.” Breathe, breathe. “I can’t find my robe. Will you look in the closet for me?” Breathe, breathe. (When my grandmother died last year, I was given her Hawaiian moo moo that she wore around the house on Sundays. I chose to wear that during labor as an ode to her and her journey giving birth to 9 children.) At 1:01, I gave Rob my iphone and told him to call the midwife. She would be there in 30 minutes. When she arrived, I was dressed, the room was quiet, dimly lit and clean. I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing and then gave her a weak smile and a hello. She brought with her about 9 giant duffle bags, her assistant and her daughter. They began the unloading process and I just did my thing. Poor Rob, so helpless. “Can I get you something, anything? You are doing great.” “Nope, just be here and don’t play on your iphone.”

By 2am, my contractions were about 10 minutes apart and only lasting 25 seconds. I was devastated. I looked at my midwife with apologetic eyes and told her I didn’t understand. My labors have always been very quick and I felt horrible that she had come all this way and unpacked everything and it might be a false alarm. She smiled and said it was completely normal. It was just my body transitioning and she wasn’t going anywhere. She never once made me feel guilty for calling her in the middle of the night. The funniest thing I observed was with the 5 of us in the room, there was no lack of hungry stomach growls. It seemed like through every contraction, everyone would go silent, observing the length and my breathing but someone’s stomach would break the silence. If I wasn’t in pain, I would have laughed out loud. I insisted they go rummage through the fridge downstairs but they refused and said they would be just fine. By 3:30am, I was comfortably sitting on the bed, having a chat, carrying on stories and experiences, very unsure about this labor. My midwife assured me that I was having this baby, even if she had to break my water, it would happen. Instead, she opted to have her assistant check my dilation and stretch my cervix. Let me tell you, that was no picnic. Nothing like having someone’s hand up your yoo hoo stretching things out. I all of a sudden didn’t like her assistant anymore. J Things quickly picked back up and as much as I was enjoying the break from the pain, I wanted to get this thing over with!! At this point, I lost track of time as my eye lids closed permanently and I went into the zone.

I have shared my home birth story with many women over the past 2 years and all have the same reaction: you are truly amazing. They all feel the same, thinking they could not do it without pain medication. I would like to quote Suzanne Arms by saying, “the knowledge of how to give birth without outside interventions lies deep within each woman. Successful childbirth depends on the acceptance of the process.” For some reason, I have been lucky enough to realize this on my own and although it doesn’t make it less painful, it empowers you to get through it. The only secret I have is you must stay in control. I am not a screamer. I talk quietly to myself when things get really bad but if for one moment I give in to the horrific pain and let it take over, that is when I would not be capable anymore. I choose to be its master.

Between 4am and 5am, it just got horribly stereotypical. I was laying on my back and the contractions came hard, lasted over a minute and then went only to come back again quickly. I knew the time was close and waited and waited and waited for that infamous urge to push. But…that urge never came. I have given birth to 4 children and I know when it is time to push. Baby #5 was giving me none of those cues. By 5am, I had changed positions many times and at this point, felt most in control on my side, holding my own knee in the air. I began the transition into the rhythmic breathing. Still, no urge to push. By this time, I was starting to think that all my sermons on not losing control might be thrown out the window because I was hovering dangerously on the cliff of giving up. Funny thing is you can’t give up. There is no “I want out” button. You are going to have to get that baby out no matter what and the pain is NOT going to stop until she is out. For those few seconds that went on in my mind. I tried and tried to grasp onto any control I could find. I heard echoes of my mom’s words in my head, “you have to remove yourself, almost have an out of body experience” and “millions of women have done this, you are not alone” and “the pain isn’t telling you that your body is hurt, it is a natural pain that isn’t hurting you, it is helping you.” I soared through my brain, searching for a rope to cling to, a lifeline to save me. And unfortunately, I also came to the thought that maybe this is the point where women come to when they die in childbirth from the intense pain. I didn’t want to have that thought but I have never felt so completely hopeless and helpless. I have always been able to push my way out of the pain. Pushing is hard but it is of some relief. I couldn’t feel the pressure to push so I wallowed in the excruciating pain waiting for the end to come. I started to lose control when I realized, I had nowhere to go. I was lost. That’s when I started talking out loud, rubbing my forehead and sweating.

Have you ever been on the edge of a cliff, or a diving board, looking down at the water below? It seems like miles down even if only mere feet and you count to 3 over and over again, urging your body to jump off but you just CAN’T get your legs to leave the edge? You psych yourself out for great lengths of time, with onlookers screaming at you to “just do it.” The longer you think about it, the more likely you will talk yourself out of it, right? Well, that’s pushing a baby out. It’s the same thing when you don’t feel the urge to push.

I stood on the edge of the pushing cliff and knew I had to jump but kept telling myself that it would be too hard. Nothing was telling me to “just do it” so why should I? Then I remembered how much I HATE being pregnant and the longer I stood there, it just prolonged my pregnancy and all its difficulties. I looked down at that water, pushing where I thought that urge to push should be and felt the first tinges of pressure hysteria. I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS…IT’S GOING TO HURT TOO MUCH. But a light was turned on. I remembered what I had to do and I was almost there!!! At that moment of realization, I took about 10 steps backward, a deep breath and I just ran with all my might and jumped off that proverbial cliff.

Baby’s head came out still incased in the amniotic sac and wouldn’t you know it, she was sunny-side up. My midwife later told me that it all made perfect sense as to why my back was hurting me so much when I was laying flat and why the urge to push was absent. She just wasn’t in the right position being posterior. Weird thing is is that she had been positioned correctly up until just minutes before birth but flipped at the last minute. Once her head was out, I was trying to summon the courage to push again but that was solved for me because just as her eyes emerged (or so they tell me, I choose not to look) the sac broke and peeled away from her face. At that very moment I realized it was now or never and I rode that amniotic fluid wave by pushing her completely out.

There is no greater relief in the whole world, than when that baby has exited your body. After growing a human being for 280 days (in my case 275 days) to be free of that burden is close to heaven on earth. I detest it so much that I wrote a little poem just to recall the horror of being an incubator. If you are familiar with the book, Good Night Moon, this might sound familiar.

In the body of a pregnant mom

There was a baby

And impatience

And a whole lot of—

Stuffy noses and Charlie horses

And there was picking up clothes with only her toes,

And tossing and turning from side to side,

And staying home from family bike rides.

And elastic pants and a rib kicking dance.

Breathless staircase ascension being rough,

And a tired momma saying, “I’ve had enough.”

Goodbye impatience and rib kicking dance.

Goodbye shooting leg pains and hip bone heaviness.

Goodbye starving but full sensation.

Goodbye endless night urination.

Goodbye hip swinging, bowling ball between the legs, waddle

Hello new baby, I’m ready to swaddle.

For me the pain immediately stops upon exit. The contractions almost cease and the energy behind that overwhelming joy could light up New York City. I still had to push out the placenta a few minutes later, whatever. I still had to have two stitches to keep my cervix suspended, fine by me. Whatever else you want to throw at me, I can handle.

Baby Hazel made her way into this cold world at 5:35am on Friday, May 18^th.

Having been encased in the fluid until the very last seconds, she was completely clean and a healthy, a deep pink color. I held her tiny, wrinkly body for the first time with so much happiness I could not breathe. She was perfect from hair to toenails. She weighed in my lightest baby ever at 7 pounds 3 ounces.

The sun was just starting to rise above the rooftops outside and as cleaned up in the bathroom, a father held is new daughter close in his arms.

By 6:30, I was comfortably sitting up in bed nursing her for the first time as Indiana walked into the room. “Good morning mommy. She’s here?” As the rest of the troops visited that morning, they were all in awe over the delivery of their baby sister during the night.

By 7:20 my midwife was gone, by 8:45 the kids were on the bus and by 10:00am Rob was snoring on the couch as I chatted happily with family on the phone. Fueled by endorphins I soared through 41 hours with no sleep.

My neighbor to the left, Lori came just minutes after the school bus with a brown bag full of sentiments. A personal watermelon to up my water intake, a head of cabbage for the oncoming engorgement relief, a half gallon of organic whole milk because it’s my favorite, a pepsi for Rob and bags of goldfish crackers for the kids. Thoughtful and much loved. My neighbor to the right,

Jen came over that afternoon with a vase full of red (ruby) daisies and white hydrangeas.

One of the most delightful moments of the whole day, the whole year for that matter was when my friend Jon Blue showed up with lunch. Rob had texted the good news to several of our closest friends and our friend Jon texted that he would like to bring me lunch. My request was for a simple sandwich because I refuse to ask anyone to spend too much on me. Hazel was just a few hours old when he appeared at the top of the stairs at 11:30 with none other than a silver platter heaped with golden light. There was a chorus of angels as he rounded the bedroom doors in slow motion and with a smile. Rob was beaming as he predicted what my reaction would be. Jon placed the platter in my lap and began to name off his gifts of all my favorite things in the whole world. A Mountain Dew, Lofthouse Sugar Cookies, Keebler Coconut Dreams cookies, a maple donut, Seattle’s Chocolate San Juan Sea Salt bar, a magazine full of summer desserts, a half gallon of Caramel Caribou ice cream and Chicken teriyaki with rice and salad for sustenance. This man knows me too well. Over the past 3 years, we have become dear friends with he and his wife and we have shared a lot of inside jokes, deep conversations and personal secrets. Jon has ever so quietly observed what makes me giddy and logged them into his memory banks. Upon delivering this treasure trove of goodies, I was overcome with such delight that I could have kissed him full on the mouth. That might have been slightly inappropriate so I refrained but I did joke that I should have married him. Rob quickly chimed in that I did not marry the wrong guy and I quickly agreed. Thank you Jon for a feast like none I have ever had. He left with a warning that no one was to touch the leftover cookie packages downstairs. They were strictly for me. I will loudly proclaim that I ate 8 of those 10 Lofthouse cookies in less than 12 hours by myself. I have a problem but I have no problem admitting it.

The only thing that I was slightly disappointed about was the rummage sale I missed. I know this sounds completely shallow but I had been looking forward to this particular church’s rummage sale for months and ironically, I missed it by mere hours. So happy to not be pregnant anymore, I talked myself out of the disappointment knowing full well that I would not trade the sale for one more day of pregnancy.

For the next 4 days we were treated to visitors, delicious meals, cards, acts of service and presents. Nothing brings more love from friends than when you bring life into this world. And I have never felt more gratitude. And more happiness that she is here!