Abram's Birth: Part III

This is part three of a series detailing my experiences home birthing my son.  Read Part I and Part II of Abram's birth story.

Our wonderful neighbors came to pick Brady up around 11:30 and the house was blessedly quiet.  I’d been in labor for three and a half hours and had reached the point where I did not want to move.  Somehow I’d released my grip on the bookcases to reposition myself perching on the very edge of the couch.  I was focused: don’t-talk-to-me-don’t-look-at-me-and-don’t-even-THINK-about-touching-me focused.  At this point Craig took it upon himself to call our midwife and let her know that I’d tricked her and she needed to come right now!  He pulled out the inflatable tub she had sent over a few weeks prior and started to inflate it.  I wasn’t planning on a water birth, but I wasn’t about to discount something that might help with pain, so we were blowing it up just in case.  By the time he had it blown up, I had migrated across the rug to a kneeling position in front of one of our chairs, gripping it for dear life with my face buried in the seat.  Rebecca knocked just before noon, Craig let her in and she took one look at me and immediately set to work making our home her own and giving instructions to everyone.  “Craig – give up on that tub, there’s no water in it yet and there’s no way you’re going to have it filled up before she’s given birth.  Meredith – lower moans, not so high pitched.  Stay in control.” 

I was starting to push.  Actually, I had started to feel myself pushing when Craig called Rebecca but now I felt an uncontrollable need to push with every single contraction.  So I pushed.  There’s really nothing else you can do at that point no matter what you want.  It only took a couple of contractions and then – pop! – my water broke all over the living room rug. (My perfectionist self actually thought at that moment, “ Dang it!  I’m going to have to wash that!”)  Rebecca grabbed towels upon towels and layered them all over the floor, first under me and then all around and then instructed me to get those pants off or the baby would be born in them.  I was still gripping the chair for dear life and had no inclination to move any additional muscles but I didn’t want my son to be born in my underwear so with her and Craig helping and my cooperation we finally got the pants off.  And it’s a blur from there on out.  All I really remember is mind-numbing contractions, and Craig asking me if I wanted a drink and me cussing at him.  I was going a little bit too quickly (and I was worried about a long labor – ha!) so Rebecca told me to slow down.  I tried but it felt like the baby was hurtling through me anyway because the next thing I knew he was out of me and in Rebecca’s hands. 

I couldn’t see him because my face was still buried in the chair but she calmly mentioned that the cord was wrapped around his neck a couple of times and proceeded to do a few somersaults with his small, slippery body to untangle him.  Then she handed him to me and I got to see my Abram Joseph for the first time.  He was so big and so beautiful: eight pounds and thirteen ounces.  He looked exactly like his brother had but even chunkier.  A glance at the clock told me it was 12:53pm, just shy of five hours since I'd started labor; my fastest delivery yet.  

Craig and Rebecca made a bed of towels, blankets and pillows on the floor and I lay down on it with Abram nestled against my chest.  I lay there staring at my beautiful baby while we waited for the placenta and Rebecca stitched me back together again.  Soon I moved to the couch where Abram found his way to my breast and nursed for the first time.  The creamy, white vernix that had made him so sticky when he was first born was slowly soaking into his skin revealing an unbelievably soft little person. 

When Abram had finished nursing and I had recovered enough, Craig took the baby for some daddy-time and I headed to the shower – my own shower in my own bedroom – to clean up a bit.  I put on some fresh pajamas and climbed into my own bed where little Abe was brought back to me again.  And then I could really look at and fall in love with my tiny man.  He had so much hair!  Soft and brown.  His face looked just like Brady’s had at birth – almost a carbon copy, but his forehead seemed just the slightest bit taller with a large birthmark on the side.  His hands and toes were identical to Craig’s  - crooked second toe and all.  I looked for Lily in him but the only resemblance I found was that they both looked so much like Brady.  I knew when I looked at him that he was his own person.  He was not a replacement for the daughter I had lost but an additional blessing and would grow to be simply himself, completely unique from anyone else.  And I loved that.  

Abram's Birth: Part II

Sorry to leave you hanging, friends.  It's been a rough time learning how to balance all my responsibilities with two kids in tow.  But here is the much-anticipated continuation of Abram's birth story.  There will be one more part after this one, to keep the post from getting too terribly lengthy.

November 18th was cold. Winter was starting to creep in, whether I liked it or not. The good thing was, this meant I was getting closer to my December 3rd due date. I was so done with being pregnant. Every day I secretly hoped that it would be the day this baby would come out. Delivering my last two babies early (Brady three weeks and Lily five weeks) made me a bit impatient, I guess. We were down to two weeks left with this one and I’d started to try encouraging the little man to make his arrival: long walks, deep cleaning the house, spicy foods, you name it. He wasn’t taking the bait, however, and so we had scheduled one last date night for that evening.

We dropped Brady off at our neighbors’ and then headed over to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. The lobby was packed, which was pretty typical for a Friday night. My gigantic belly seemed to be getting in everybody’s way, no matter how I positioned myself. I was relieved when we were finally seated so I would no longer feel like a road block and because the contractions were making me uncomfortable. I’d been having light contractions very irregularly for a few weeks, just like I had before Lily was born. As hard as I wished for them to become strong and regular and get the ball rolling, they just came and went as they pleased and weren’t anything to make a fuss about.  So we enjoyed our time together and our dinners and ordered cheesecake to go. As we stepped outside to the parking lot, huge beautiful flakes of snow were falling from the sky. Craig went to get the car while I waited by the door and then we headed back home, picking Brady up on the way, to enjoy our cheesecakes in the comfort of sweats and pajamas.

The next morning I was up before everyone else, as usual; my fidgety, restless legs couldn’t take lying still in bed any longer than was absolutely necessary. I headed back to the office to do a little bit of work on the computer where I could get up and wiggle around as much as I wanted. My typical irregular contractions were still there, just like every day for the past few weeks. But by eight o'clock I started to notice that they were actually becoming more regular. About eight to ten minutes apart. “Hmmm,” I thought. “We’ll have to wait and see where this goes…” Craig had to go to the church that morning to help clean and Brady was going with him. He headed out with a promise from me that I’d call him if anything interesting started to happen. I decided to clean up the house, just in case, and by the time they returned at ten o'clock, I was fairly certain: we were having a baby that day.  I was so excited!  But my contractions were still only about eight minutes apart. They were just becoming more intense. It looked like it might end up being a long day.

Still, I started to get some things together for Brady and called the neighbors to let them know what was going on and that he’d be coming over to play for awhile. About halfway through my preparations Craig had to take charge because my contractions were getting too strong for me to focus on much else – especially an excitedly bouncing four year old. But they were still seven to eight minutes apart. Why weren’t they getting any closer together?! I was becoming really concerned and emotional that I was already in so much pain and it seemed like we still had so far to go. I wasn’t sure if I could handle a long labor (again I’ve been spoiled – Brady’s birth was ten hours and Lily’s only six). Craig helped calm me down and I called our midwife, Rebecca, to help calm him down. He was a starting to worry about nobody else being there yet. But I strategically called her between contractions so that she wouldn’t know how much I was hurting. In hindsight that was a bad idea, but at the moment I really thought we still had plenty of time left and I didn't want to rush anybody. Soon, I'd know better.

Stay tuned for Part III of Abram's birth later this week.  And this time I mean it; it's already written and ready to go!  You can read Part I: Why We Chose a Home Birth right here.