As I sat with my doula, Kerry, and husband, Norman, in the living room on Tuesday, January 18, discussing how I might be in pre-labor, I couldn’t believe it. In the past few days, I’d had lots of digestive disturbances, and most recently bloody show and light contractions 10 minutes apart.
We planned the rest of the day. I would eat some protein-laden food, and take a nap that afternoon. “Labor often intensifies in the evening,” Kerry said before leaving.
Norman and I went out to eat with some friends at a Thai restaurant, and I made sure to eat tofu for protein. (I was still having contractions.) After that, Norman and I discussed whether to get a hospital tour since we hadn’t earlier, but decided against it. I decided a nap was more important.
We both napped. Or more accurately, I dozed between contractions. Around 6 p.m., I ate a carton of strawberry Silk soy yogurt, crackers, and red raspberry leaf tea to see if that might encourage the contractions a bit. That was all I could eat. My contractions intensified.
Around 8 p.m., the family decided to have worship. My dad opened the Bible and started reading the commentary on the book of Ezekiel. I became impatient. Couldn’t he just read a few verses? The contractions were getting stronger, and I was spending time on hands and knees. In my mind, this is when the hard, active labor started.
Norman called his brother after worship to tell him that I might be in labor. I snapped at him, “Take the conversation elsewhere!” I wanted peace and quiet, and asked that the lights be dimmed. Norman knew that things must be getting serious!
I decided it might help to take a hot shower. Because standing in the shower was too painful, I opted to labor on all fours on the floor of the shower until the water got cold.
Then I got out of the shower and resumed laboring on my knees, leaning over the exercise ball. At some point, I threw up my supper. I recalled reading in Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth how vomiting seems to help with dilation, and encouraged myself with the positive thought that perhaps that was helping me to dilate! (At my only internal exam at 36 weeks, the midwife said I was not dilated. I was 38.5 weeks at this point.)
By this time, I was vocalizing during contractions. Thor, the family dog who lived outside, began barking concernedly.
At some point, we decided to call Kerry, the doula. We also called the midwife to ask when we should go to the hospital. My contractions weren’t any closer than 3-5 minutes apart, but some of them were getting longer and double-peaking. Unfortunately, the hospital answering service didn’t relay our phone number to the midwife.
When Kerry arrived, she helped me find another position to labor in — straddling the back of a chair. She helped with putting counter pressure on my lower back by squeezing my hips together. It gave me so much relief!
At this point, Norman called the answering service again, and this time they took the phone number down. The midwife called right away. When she heard me vocalizing during a contraction, she said it was time to go to the hospital.
My mom loaded the car with the hospital bag. Kerry suggested that since I felt the most comfort leaning on the exercise ball, that I should labor that way in the back seat of the car on the way to the hospital. Norman sat in the back with me.
I began feeling pressure about this time, and I prayed that my water would not break all over Norman en route to the hospital. My mom, the driver, sped to the hospital (normally 20 minutes away) with Kerry following.
Somebody came with a wheelchair to the emergency entrance for me, and wheeled me directly to labor and delivery. All the paperwork had been filled out in advance. My nurse, Torey, had the suite with the birth tub all ready for me.
After changing into the hospital gown, I lay on my side on the bed for the required 20 minutes of fetal monitoring. The baby was doing well. Then Torey checked me and I was 8 cm dilated and hanging on by a rim!
We were all praising the Lord that we had arrived at the hospital when we did. About then, Leslie, the midwife arrived and I got into the birth tub. She said I could begin pushing any time.
The warm water felt wonderful! I started pushing, and my water broke (at the perfect time and place). The contractions slowed down to about 10 minutes apart, and Leslie advised me about pushing. I pushed with the knees-up chin-tuck position. Norman sat on the edge of the tub at the other end, and I put my feet on his shins to brace myself. I also looked at him while I pushed. He was smiling at me, so I gritted my teeth through the pain and pressure and smiled back! Kerry put cool wash cloths to my head, and offered me sips of water and juice in between contractions. She was such an encouragement! She had been a doula at hundreds of births, and she knew how I was progressing. Whenever she said “That’s the way, Joelle!” or “You are doing so well!” or even better yet, “You’re getting so close!” it gave me tremendous encouragement.
Eventually, the pressure in pushing was so strong I just decided to keep on pushing and the contraction kept on going, and all of a sudden, “Oh, her head is out! Here come the shoulders!” and Leslie and Norman lifted the little baby out of the water. Leslie put her right on my chest. She started crying immediately, and pinked up beautifully.
“Oh, sweetheart! Good morning, honey!” I said. It was 2:50 on January 19. Her cute little eyes looked up at me, and she seemed to recognize my voice and stopped crying. Saralyn was just taking in all the sights and sounds of her new world. Norman announced Saralyn’s name to everyone.
“Oh look, Joelle, she has curly hair!” My mom exclaimed. She had been so helpful and took some amazing pictures and videos for us.
Norman clamped the cord, and carried Saralyn over to the table to be measured, weighed, and bathed. Leslie and Kerry helped me back to the bed to deliver the placenta, which was also delivered naturally. Truthfully, the placenta delivery was the worst part of childbirth for me. I know it isn’t that way for most people, but because it was a low-lying anterior placenta, it gave me more trouble and pain.
After the placenta was delivered and I received a stitch or two, I got to breastfeed little Saralyn for the first time. She was wide awake and alert and rooting for food while she was being weighed and cleaned up. She latched right on, and although it took some adjustment to get her latched correctly, she did so well!
I was very thankful I could give birth naturally. I’ll never forget that experience. I compare it with climbing a mountain or some other major physical exercise challenge. Like climbing a mountain, it was a lot of work, but once I got to the top, the view was definitely worth it! I’ll never forget holding my precious baby girl for the first time and feeling the adrenaline rush after my birth experience.
