One day my children will grow up, read this, and wonder why I shared this story in print form. But here goes…
The baby was “due” on April 28th, 2008. We were so excited to be welcoming her to our family. With each passing day after May 1st, though, I became less and less pleasant. On May 5th I informed my child that she had overstayed her welcome, and that quite frankly I used to love her very much, but was considering my options. Walking around each day over 5 centimeters dialated, up most nights with contractions and then working during the day was putting me over the edge. On May 6th, at around ten am in the morning I had my amniotic sac broken. This is where many of you probably just felt your jaw drop a little. Yes, I had my bag of water broken for me.
There is one thing I know more than anything else in this world, and it is that as a mother, you know more about your baby and your body than anyone. I knew, without a doubt, that if I was still pregnant on May 8th I would not have the ideal birth for me. I began going through the paces of labor almost immediately, walking, swaying, leaning, listening to music. At one point, when I was in the tub, I remember thinking to myself, “Why did you think this would be a good idea to do again?” Soon after, my midwife asked me to get into bed so she could check my cervix. She declared that I was “7″ and went about her crossword puzzle. Within a few minutes the midwife looked over to me and said, “Do you promise to tell me before you start pushing?”
I never answered.
My body began pushing immediately. My memory of the next few moments still makes me laugh. I could hear the midwife shouting for me to stop pushing, she even told Shannon to tell me to stop. The midwife got gloves on and positioned herself just right before the bed that I was squatting on and caught The Baby. Mr. Guertin was going to catch her, but she came so quickly he couldn’t even get his hands there in time. We guessed that she was born at 3:18 in the afternoon that day, but truth be told, we have no idea. It was shift change for the nurses, and there wasn’t a nurse in the room at the time.
Shannon kept a log of times and activities for laboring day, something that was important to me to have for my children and myself as they get older. I have photos of the birth as well, but those are things I revisit only once a year or so. My greatest memory was grabbing her and holding her, that amazing, immediate love. With The Boy, the birth was long and defeating. With The Girl, it was about power and control and intense work. The Baby’s birth was what it needed to be. I trusted that the labor would be manageable, the baby was healthy and that my body knew what it was doing.