The arrival of our second sweet baby happened at a bit of a
whirlwind time for our family.
My due date was October 31st, and the only hiccup
I was really concerned about was that my midwife wouldn't be able to be there.
We had planned a homebirth with Katie, the same midwife that attended Evelyn's
birth, but she was set to be leaving town on the 30th and wouldn't be back
until November 9th. Though we had another excellent midwife who would be there
either way, I just really wanted Katie to be a part of this birth. I trust her.
I feel safe with her, and I wanted that familiarity. I was hoping that, being
number two, this baby might decide to come early - just a few days early! - so
that I wouldn't have to worry about it.
At 38 weeks I was between 1 and 2 centimeters dilated. I was
keeping my fingers crossed that I would go into labor over the weekend. That
way Katie would be there and my best friend and Mike's cousin, Sarah, would be able to drive up
to be a part of the birth as well. Unfortunately, God had other plans for the
weekend. Early that Saturday morning Mike's mother was rushed to the ER and
admitted to the hospital. We spent the next two days practically living in the
hospital waiting room, and ultimately ended up saying goodbye to her on Sunday
night. I went from hoping the baby would come to praying that labor would hold
off just a little while longer. The week between her passing and the funeral
was one of the most stressful our little family has experienced. We were up
well past midnight almost every night for one reason or another, and every
night when I finally did get to bed I would begin contracting. I remember one
night in particular I got into bed around 1 or 2am and not long after Evelyn
woke up and began screaming. When I went to check on her she seemed very scared
about something so I brought her into our bed, which is something that never
happens. As I laid down and she snuggled into me the contractions came and I
nearly cried. All I could think was "Please, not now. I can't do this
right now." The funeral was held on my due date, with me, thankfully,
still very much pregnant. God was faithful in sparing all of us the stress of
me laboring in the middle of all of this and of Mike possibly having to choose
between attending his mother's funeral and being with his wife and newborn
child. Admittedly, once the services were over I think we were all ready for
this little one to make an appearance.
But days continued to pass, and still no baby. I did my best
to make it to work each day that following week, and to not let the wide eyes
and the “you're STILL here!” comments get under my skin. We had withdrawn
Evelyn from daycare on October 30th and were having to find
alternate care for each day that I continued to go past due. On Thursday
morning, November 5th, I dropped her off at a friend's house and
made my way to the office. Around 9am I began feeling some discomfort that I
thought could be mild contractions, but they were no different than the
contractions I had been having nightly for the past 2 weeks so I didn't
anticipate them going anywhere. However, with it being mid-morning as opposed
to midnight I decided to try to time them and see if there was any regularity.
Between phone calls, coworkers stopping to chat, and case work there was too
much distracting me from the contractions to be able do much timing and I
eventually gave up. I did go ahead and let Mike know, and I texted Elizabeth,
the midwife who would be attending the birth, to let her know that I might
possibly be in the process of going into labor. As time passed the contractions
didn't seem to get stronger or more easily timed, but they didn't go away
either and I also began to notice what I thought might be some bloody show. I
decided I would go on home and take a nap just in case this did turn into the
real thing. I arranged for Mike to pick Evelyn up from the sitter, then grabbed
myself some lunch and headed home.
After an hour of laying in bed, it became apparent that sleep
would not be coming. I was still contracting. Still not very strong, and still
hard to time, but consistent enough to keep me awake. Since I couldn't sleep I attempted to help
things along by bouncing and rocking on my exercise ball. Around 5pm I updated
the midwife that things were pretty much the same, but that the bloody show was
continuing.
I have very scattered and fuzzy memories of the hours that
followed, and I feel a little sad about that. I wish I remembered my last
moments with Evelyn as my only baby a little more clearly. I remember having
dinner and giving her a popsicle and putting her hair up in a bun to keep it
from getting sticky. It struck me how grown up she looked. I remember putting
her to bed and talking about how our baby might be coming and that she would be
a big sister soon, and I remember sneaking back in to check on her after she
had fallen asleep just to have a moment to bask in the beauty of my first
little miracle.
Mike and I went about our usual evening activities. I turned
on a movie and tried to relax for awhile, and eventually things finally seemed
to pick up. I called the midwife and because she lives almost an hour away she
said she would go ahead and come over. She and my friend Sarah arrived within a
few minutes of each other around 11pm. I asked her to check me and was
pleasantly surprised to be at 6 centimeters.
Though my contractions were more intense, the atmosphere
remained very calm and relaxed. We all watched another movie together while I
continued to bounce away on my ball and Elizabeth checked baby's heartbeat
every now and then. During my pregnancy we had chosen not to find out the sex
of the baby, so we spent some time making guesses as to whether the baby was a
boy or a girl and what names we had picked out. It was a truly enjoyable time.
Sarah joked that I wasn't acting like a woman in labor.
A little after midnight I had a snack and laid down to try to
rest. Laying down seemed to intensify things. With each contraction I breathed
deeply and told myself that I was feeling pressure and not pain. I visualized
myself floating and that did seem to help. I was still very calm and Elizabeth
said she thought we might have several hours to go so Mike and Sarah left to
grab something to eat. Not long after they left I began needing to move and
vocalize through the contractions. Elizabeth began filling the birthing pool,
but advised me not to get in until Mike got back just in case it caused labor
to really kick into gear. I texted Mike and asked him to hurry back. I was
still handling things well, but it was clear that labor was finally moving
forward!
Over the next couple of hours I labored in and out of the
water, but I never truly found that perfect position that really relieved the
contractions. I expected the birthing pool to be this magical place of peace
and relief and it fell somewhat flat. The water did alleviate some of the
intensity, but I couldn't really tell until I was getting out and the full
force of gravity hit me. During that time I had a few moments of mild panic
thinking about the pain I felt and knowing that medical pain relief wasn't an
option. When these moments hit I tried very hard to slow my breathing, relax my
muscles, and remind myself that the pain would not last forever and if I made
it through the last contraction I could make it through the next one. I
remember hearing Elizabeth and Sarah talking about how calm and in control I
seemed. At one point Elizabeth said I was a very “graceful laborer.” I don't
know what I looked like on the outside, but inside I felt anything but
graceful!
I eventually found myself leaning back in the pool. With each
contraction I rocked my legs back and forth. During this time, at the end of
transition, I struggled the most with the pain. I felt my water break and knew
that the baby was coming. I felt my body bearing down, and I honestly just
wanted it to stop. I was fearful because I didn't remember being in this much
pain when Evelyn was born. I vocalized my fear to my birth team and was
reassured that it was almost over and that I was doing just fine, but I was so
tired and I just wanted the pain to stop and to be able to go to sleep and then
get back to pushing this baby out when I hadn't been laboring for 19 hours.
Obviously, that didn't happen. My body did what it needed to do with very
little conscious effort on my part. I pushed maybe 4 or 5 times and finally our
baby was here! Sporting a nuchal fist (her fist was up by her face), which
explained why transition and pushing felt so much more intense, and probably
why my early labor last so long with little progress.
When I pulled my baby up onto my chest Elizabeth made
reference to “she” or “her.” I asked excitedly if it was girl and tried to
check, but wasn't in a great position to see. Elizabeth said that she hadn't
even checked and had said that without thinking, but she was right! Our
beautiful Eleanor Sue was born at 4:06am on November 6th. Named in
honor of her Granny, Donna Sue, and born exactly one year to the day from the
loss of our last baby. In an extra special moment, Sarah cut the umbilical
cord. It was such a blessing to have her be a part of this time with us.
God showed me such faithfulness, grace, mercy, and healing
through Eleanor’s birth. All through my pregnancy I knew that I wanted my baby to be born at home, but I
had no way of knowing how much I would need
it. Her quiet peaceful entrance into the world was exactly what our family
needed.
