I was becoming a watched pot that wouldn't boil, and knowing I needed to deliver by 42 weeks, I began to make plans to nudge my body toward labor. We spent Wednesday making plans for Thursday: doctor's appointment for a NST and sonogram followed by an induction massage and induction acupuncture. I was willing to try everything we could do naturally before agreeing to a hospital induction the following week.
And planning apparently did the trick. I didn't make any of those appointments the following day.
I spent Wednesday afternoon on the sunny deck cleaning Georgia's pool with my mom sitting nearby. It was a perfect fall afternoon. My mom was surely thinking I was nuts for cleaning every inch of the pool with a toothbrush, but it just felt good to do one of the last things I had on my to do list so thoroughly. Unfortunately, later this meant I hadn't napped and wouldn't get sleep for 24+ hours.
That evening I was having contractions, but I had been having contractions in the days earlier, so nothing to notice. My table mom from my church mom's group came over with her husband to bring us food and visit. We got Georgia to bed with some strife of will and then I insisted we watch NCIS online since we'd missed it the night before and it is our only show we watch on primetime tv.
I was trying to maintain normal because I'm no stranger to stop and start labor. And it stopping after paying it too much attention is emotionally difficult . I knew if we kept going and it didn't stop, it was something to pay attention to.
My contractions were beginning to hurt. Hurt in a way that contractions hadn't hurt me ever before. I knew the baby was still back to my back and that I could be heading into back labor if I didn't get him turned around. I was concerned. The day we got home from the hospital, Noah picked up our laptop and laughed. We had a 'get your baby turned' website pulled up from two days earlier. He said, "Don't think we need that now!"
As the evening progressed, we talked with our doula, Heidi, multiple times by phone and she was helping us determine our next steps. I got into the big bathtub and was relieved (even excited) to have three normal-for-me contractions. They were strong and effective.
But the hurts-strangely contractions came back. About 11 pm I knew something wasn't right. When I started showing signs of going into transition we all agreed we needed to get to the hospital and Heidi would meet us there.
As we were heading down the Plaza, Noah was trying to drive quickly but we hit every light. EVERY ONE! It took us longer to get there in the middle of the night than during the day the week before! He was hurrying and I kept telling him to slow down. I knew we had time and it hurt more the quicker he drove.
At the hospital we sorted out that I was having pain and contractions. Pain from a UTI and contractions close together meant doozy pain. I had progressed toward labor from my appointment the week before, but wasn't in active labor and the snapshot statistics of dilation and station of the baby were not favorable for birth.
We all agreed I should go home. Yet something was nagging me that we didn't have time to go home and come back. I contemplated getting a hotel room right there on the Plaza and prayed God would show us what to do. Then my water broke and everything changed. We all agreed I would stay.
From triage we went to one of the new Labor & Delivery suites. They are big and look like hotel rooms, but honestly, I couldn't have cared less what the room looked like. I wanted the lights off and to be left to labor on my yoga ball with Heidi and Noah guarding my efforts.
Our experience was much more "hospital" than with Georgia. I had an IV, I was on a monitor for twenty looooong minutes an hour, I was wearing a gown, I had a hospital bracelet, I was interrupted several times to sign paperwork. None of that happened with Georgia because I arrived while in transition and our providers were at the hospital and overrode such protocols since they could observe me as I labored as naturally as possible. I would say this baby's birth a non-medicated birth with mother nature overriding protocols in the end!
Labor progressed steadily and mightily. The nurse encouraged walking, but I would not get off the ball because contractions were coming every two minutes. Heidi encouraged me to lean back during contractions to allow the baby to descend into a more favorable station. This was difficult but it worked.
After I had a round of antibiotics I was able to get into the shower to use the water to help me cope. It was really more of a distraction but nevertheless, a welcome one. It was dark except for a flameless candle Heidi brought to give the room a glow. And I was still on the ball. Noah later commented, "I forgot how much you love that ball during labor." Indeed I do.
Birthing is such an amazing experience. Very instinctual, very animalistic, very feminine. At one point in the shower I heard humming. Then I realized it was me. I was humming the song Hail, Hail Line of Judah. It was such an out of body experience to realize I was comforting myself subconciously and calling forth my son at the same time.
As I came to a little more, God started reminding me that He had already answered several of my prayers...that we'd know when to go to the hospital...that Georgia would be peaceful while I labored (two times before I had been having contractions in the night when she awoke from bad dreams...making my labor stop cold)...that the baby would have one dose of antibiotics before birth since I was Group B Strep positive.
It gave me a welling of faith and filled my heart with gratefulness. I remembering praying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm getting tired. Can I ask that contractions be effective and birth soon?"
I remember looking at the clock a bit later...about 3:15...thinking how tired I was not having slept since Tuesday night and unsure how much further I had to dilate. At 3:30 I decided to lay down on my side in the bed to see if I could stall labor for a while and rest.
Instead, it made things progress even quicker. The contractions were incredibly intense. I figured out that breathing in and blowing out multiple times during a contraction brought much more relief than one or two big breaths. It helped so much to hear Heidi's voice reminding me to breathe or telling me I was doing a great job or congratulating me for doing so well through the last contraction.
At some point I told Noah that I was having bathtub contractions and I heard him explaining to Heidi that he thought that meant like I had earlier at home. I wasn't in a place to correct him but I was thankful when he thought about it more and said, "Oh wait, I think she means contractions like when she was in the tub birthing Georgia." BINGO! Transition contractions. When I caught myself coming to when a contraction started, I knew for sure things were progressing well.
I remember having five contractions back to back without a break. When they passed, I rolled over and said these famous and now quite funny last words"...things are getting pretty serious."
Serious might have been the wrong word. Urgent. Imminent. Those probably would have been a little better.
Heidi could tell from my breathing what was happening and asked if I thought I should be checked. I said I didn't really want to be, but I'd better.
Before the nurse could get to the room, I was breathing baby is coming now breaths.
I was checked and declared complete with baby descending. Heidi said everyone in the room knew the doctor wasn't going to make it.
The baby was coming NOW. A senior resident was called in. The room filled with people. Noah had to help get equipment out. I didn't see anything because I hated that the lights were on and blinding me, so I covered my eyes and listened to the flurry of activity while trying my best to breathe and not push until they were ready.
But he wasn't waiting for them to get ready. I yelled that he was crowning and I heard a quick "He is." not as confirmation to me but direction to the medical people in the room.
Like a roaring lion, Baby Judah was born!
He was so fair! Blonde eye lashes and barely any hair. I was expecting another black haired babe! I knew immediately he was smaller than Georgia, not the ten pound baby I thought he'd be. I was so surprised!
To have this boy in my arms felt like holding a part of heaven. Worth every minute of bedrest. Worth every prayer for faith to believe he would live. Worth every ache and pain of pregnancy. Worth every moment of pain to birth him.
Thank you, God, for our son!
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