Welcoming Noall Baby Boy #2--Luke's Birth Story

Luke has arrived! We've met our boy, been spit up on, are sleep-deprived, and I have my body back to myself!

So here's how it happened.

I woke up on Friday March 23, remembered I was nine+ months pregnant (I was due Monday the 19th) and waiting to go into labor, and rather glumly figured it probably wouldn't happen that day, either. After all, I didn't know what it was like to go into labor naturally, since I was induced the day after my due date with Jamie. Maybe I would always need intervention to get things started, like my mom? I did have contractions throughout the day, but that wasn't so out of the ordinary.

I don't really remember what we did all day; probably just sat around, because by this time we were tired of nesting and just wanting to get on with acquiring the little bird. In the early afternoon, we decided we really wanted to go see The Hunger Games, which had opened that day. (Both Jason and I love the first book and had said that if the baby was overdue, at least a silver lining would be that we could go see the movie.) We called a couple people, found a sweet friend willing to baby-sit in just a little while, and headed out for a last hurrah while Jamie took his nap.

During the movie, I found myself having more contractions, and even got a little nauseous for awhile. I was really glad we hadn't gotten any popcorn. Bleh.

When it was over (yes, we got to see all of it--yay!), walking to the car definitely made the contractions stronger. On the way home, I kept saying, "Maybe it's nothing, but it feels different..." We laughed at how cliche we felt, trying to time contractions, and with Jason driving fast trying to get me home, and me going "ahh...ooh...ow..."

When we got there I immediately went to the bathroom and found that I had bloody show. Since the contractions seemed to be coming about five minutes apart, I called the midwife on call (and I was happy when it turned out to be one of the two I especially wanted--Belinda, the Brit). She said to hang out at home for awhile until things got more intense, and then call her again. I thanked her, hung up, and stood up.

Then I felt the gush, and ran back into the bathroom.

FYI: Water breaking is supposed to usually just be a trickle, but that's definitely not always the case! I'm really glad that didn't happen at the theater!

There was meconium (baby's first BM) in my underwear, and since the same thing happened with Jamie, I called Belinda right back and let her know. She said she'd meet us at the hospital. Jason was downstairs starting to make himself something to eat; I called down, "We need to go! My water just broke!"

Now things were really in a whirlwind. I called my good friend, Deanna, who had agreed weeks before to take Jamie when I went into labor, and let her know this was it. We quickly got the last-minute stuff together along with bags that had already been packed. I took one last look at our room and tried to picture the new baby that would soon be sleeping in the bassinet that was waiting in a corner, thinking that in a short time our lives would be different forever. (I'm sentimental like that.)

We dropped off Jamie, but discovered while giving his bag a last check that I'd forgotten to put any diapers in it! Urgh. Poor Jason was also starving, so after I'd gotten through the hospital's maternity triage (you go through the ER and then they make sure you really are in labor) and settled in a L&D room, he went out to get himself some food and to get Deanna the diapers. I was fine with this since the labor wasn't too intense yet.

It was definitely a different experience, having a midwife and doing natural labor. I was almost never hooked up to monitors; the sweet nurse would come over to where I was and listen to the baby's heart rate with the doppler. I spent a lot of time in the shower at first, just letting the hot water hit my stomach and help with the pain. I also tried the birthing ball, and did some laboring in a birthing tub. That was supposed to cut the pain in half, and at first it was amazing; after awhile, though, it wasn't enough and I didn't like sitting down in there anymore. For the first few hours, we watched The Wonder Years on our laptop to pass the time. Eventually, I couldn't take the noise of it and just focused on getting through each contraction.

One thing that both Jason and I liked was how quiet Belinda and the nurse were. They would encourage me as I tried to breathe through each contraction, but other than that, they were just there, watching, helping where needed. They didn't chatter to each other much, or try to joke around with us. The lights were low, and they kept telling me to just do what felt right to me.

Actually feeling everything was SO different than having an epidural--obviously, it was very painful, but I felt like I was fully participating in this miraculous process of bringing my baby into the world. Last time, so much of it was covered up, so I barely knew my body was doing anything.

At one point, after I'd been too hot, too cold with chills, and thrown up the Sun Chips I'd eaten earlier--making this whole natural childbirth thing sound like a picnic, aren't I?--Aly (the nurse) said, "your baby must have read the textbook, because this is going exactly how it's supposed to go." "Really?" I weakly said. "Yep, right down the list--chills, vomiting, everything. Don't worry, you're doing great." That made me feel better.

It also felt more liberating, in a way; I guess that's how I would describe it. As the pain got worse, I moaned more with each contraction, which is not like me. I'm a baby and am probably too quick to let people know when I'm in pain, but I'm inhibited and at least fairly proper most of the time about how I express myself, including pain. This was the same stuff that has made me uncomfortable when I've watched a childbirth on TV and heard the woman moaning and wailing. When the time came to push, I outright screamed, and that still surprises me--not so much that I did, but that it wasn't a conscious decision. It hurt so badly, there was such tremendous pressure I'd never felt before, I just found myself screaming. (For anyone wondering, it's like having to poop really, really badly--times about a million. It's crazy.) Some corner of my mind was watching in awe, and I'm still astonished at how it just came out, like I'd lost control. I'm still fighting embarrassment over it, though I know that's silly.

Well, anyway, my water broke at around 6:15, and Luke was born at 12:32 a.m. the next morning. After the first big push, I reached down and felt his little head, and it was so amazing. One more big push, and he was out! Afterward, I asked how long I'd pushed for, and Belinda and Aly said something like, "Psh, I don't know, two minutes? You got him out in two pushes."

When the baby was out, they put him right on my bare chest, and he stayed there for I think at least an hour. When I was told beforehand that was how it would work--that he could stay on my chest for a couple hours if I wanted--I wasn't sure I would want him there that long. Wouldn't he have a lot of icky stuff on him? Wouldn't I want to move on, get cleaned up? Would it really be that enjoyable? Jamie was taken away and bathed and given his shots and stuff after only a few minutes on me.

I'm happy to say that I LOVED it, and so did Jason. I just cuddled the baby and felt his amazing newborn softness; I kissed his sweet little head without caring if there was still vernix on him. The thought occurred to me that he might pee or poop on me; then I immediately thought, "Who cares? If he does, they'll wipe it up." Luke calmed right down after just a minute of being on me, and I felt such immediate affection and love for him, and for Jason, as well. (In case you're wondering, I never got mad at him or blamed him for the pain or anything. I was just glad he was there with me, supporting me.)

And really, that was exactly the reason that I decided to try to do natural childbirth in the first place: so I could feel more bonded with my baby, sooner. I don't know how much of it has to do with the fact that I was already a mom and so was more ready and able to bond with a second baby, but I do believe that a big part of it was not having drugs in my system, and experiencing the process more fully. I don't regret it a bit, even though it hurt more than I could believe.

Jason has told me many times that he was so impressed with how well I did. That means a lot. We both also agree that my recovery has been much easier, and that Luke was way more alert and content than Jamie was. Jason also tells me I was much more coherent afterward than I was at Jamie's birth.

So, that's the story. And here's the really good stuff. :)

Welcome to our family, precious boy!