Jessica's babbling, deals, & love!: August 2013

Our Birth Story

August 29th. That was our son’s due date. Everything about the pregnancy had been going completely normal and right on track up to this point and everyone had been telling us that your first baby usually comes late. So you can imagine my surprise when my wife called to me from the bathroom with a subtle, yet unmistakable mix of excitement, terror and confusion. She was sitting on the toilet. I believe the exact words were something to the tune of “Uhh Babe?... I think my water just broke. My underwear are soaked and I KNOW I didn't pee my pants.” It was 11:15 on the evening of August 5th. “That’s 24 days early. I have to work in the morning! We aren't ready yet!! We don't have our birthing tub!!! The bed is in 5 different pieces because of the work in the bedroom!! Can you hold him in for a couple weeks?” is what I said in my head. In reality I just stared stupidly at my wife and said “Uhh...what do we do?” She stared back at me with tears and a smile and gave the universal symbol for “I have no idea, my water has never broken before, this is my first baby, I’m scared, confused, excited, and don’t have a clue what our next step is”... she shrugged her shoulders.

So we called our midwife. They had an after hours answering service for emergencies. We called, said that our water had just broken and they said either Catherine or Leslie would be calling us back shortly. Now at this point I should say that, earlier, I may have been making it sound a little more dramatic than it was. We were both actually quite calm at this point. We still weren’t even 100 % sure that her water had, in fact, broken or if it was just a leak. So we waited for a couple minutes without saying much and then the phone rang. It was Catherine. I only heard my wife’s end of the conversation. She was using her voice that she uses on the phone when she’s either excited about something, breaking news to someone, or gossiping with her mom or aunt. In this case, it was two out of the three. She was explaining what had happened, listening to Catherine's advice, a lot of “OK”s and “Uh huh”s and then I hear “Nope, it definitely broke.. I can feel it dripping down my leg right now” So now it’s for real.

Now I’m going to back up a little bit. Less then a week prior, we had started our labor and birth classes. We had some trouble finding one that wasn’t full and/or worked with our schedules. When we finally found one, the timing was going to be really tight. The last class would be 4 days before his due date. So Kathy, the birthing coach, agreed to do some privates with us to make sure that we were up to speed in case he decided to come early. She was amazing. I can’t tell you how glad I am that we used her and I’ll go into a bit more about her a little later, but the two main things that we took away from that first private session that are relevant to this part of the story are these. The first was that labor is broken into three phases. The first phase of labor is supposed to be the longest and easiest. Usually between 8 to 12 hours, with mild contractions between 5 and 30 minutes in between. The second was that Hollywood tended to over dramatize a pregnant woman’s water breaking as THE MOMENT that labor begins which is not true at all. It can sometimes happen a couple days before and does not mean that labor is starting and it’s time to run to the hospital. So you’ve got it right? Water break doesn’t necessarily mean labor is starting and even if it does you’ve got a whole work day to run final errands, rest, watch a movie... whatever. Easy peasy, right?

OK. So we’re back in the kitchen on the phone with Catherine while amniotic sac fluid is running down my wife’s legs. She finishes up the call and hangs up. She tells me that Catherine basically told her that she should get some rest cause tomorrow might be a big day and that she would call back and check in on us in the morning. She called back about 8 minutes later with a couple of extra things that had been forgotten and then we were alone. There we are standing in the kitchen, our first baby possibly starting his final descent from the womb, both surprisingly calm yet with an undertone of “holy shit, is this actually happening?” It was 11:39 PM. And so, without knowing quite what else to do, we continued with our evening as previously planned. She sat back down for some Facebook time and I sat back in the easy chair and finished my episode of 30 Rock. And then it was time for bed. It was about 12:30. I said that I was exhausted and that we should probably both get some rest. Tomorrow might be a big day. “Are you sure you don't need anything” “Please come get me if you need anything.” “Try to get some sleep.” “I love you.” She was sleeping on the couch cause she couldn't get comfortable anywhere else. Because of the belly.

Sleep eventually came. Sort of. It was fitful at best. I could hear Jessica moving around in the other room and thoughts were racing through my head about everything. Would she be able to handle the home-birth as planned with no drugs? She’s so small... is she going to need a C-Section? Am I going to be a good dad? What if I drop the baby? What if kids at school are mean to him? How am I going to pay for his college? What if he’s black?! That would be awesome! (long running joke).

It was about 3:30 when the sounds woke me up. I had sort of been hearing them through my sleep haze for a couple of hours. But this was different. “HMMMMMMMM”. “WHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWW” It was low and guttural. Animal like. Visceral. I sprung out of bed and hurried into the living room. Perhaps with a bit too much gusto because I startled the shit of my wife who was lying on the couch. She burst into tears “Jesus babe, don’t do that!!”. “Ok, sorry. sorry. everything ok?” One word answer. “NO!”. My wife is a talker. One word answer’s aren’t in her vocabulary. So now it’s REALLY for real. The next 30 minutes was spent trying to find a comfortable position. She tried lying on her side, on all fours, walking around. Nothing was helping. This was not “easy peasy”. Finally we ended up on the toilet. She had downloaded an app for measuring contractions which was doing us absolutely no good because we couldn't get a clear start or finish to the contractions. It was just an ongoing pain. I said we should call Catherine. My wife didn’t want to inconvenience her. Usually this would have turned into a debate about a plethora of issues ranging from whats expected of someone when your’e paying them for their services to being willing to ask for help, etc, etc. This was not the time for a debate. I called Catherine. I talked with her for a minute, explained the situation and then she asked to talk to Jess.

There is nothing quite like standing in the door of your bathroom, watching your wife explaining what she’s going through as she deals with multiple contractions while sitting on the toilet. I felt utterly useless. She hands the phone back to me and I take the call into the living room. “Well, she’s still pretty chatty” Catherine said to me. I would have laughed out loud had I not known what she meant.

What she meant by that was that the we still had time. If a midwife went running to the house of every pregnant woman who thought the baby was “definitely on his way” they would never get anything done. So they talk to the pregnant woman through a couple of contractions and if the woman is still able to talk, they know that they still have some time. We had learned this in our private sessions with the birthing coach. Now the other thing that we learned is that every woman goes through a moment in labor where they don't think that they can do it. And they will let you know. “I can’t do this.” “I don't want to do this”. They all say it. Every time. And what we learned is that it’s a good sign when they do. It means that they’re into the last phase of labor called transition. It’s the transition from labor into actually pushing and delivering the baby. That piece of information will be very relevant in just a minute.

So back to the phone call. “She’s still pretty chatty. Why don’t you guys time the contractions and call me back in about 30 minutes.” And so we did. We spent the next 30 minutes sitting on the toilet, while she went through a pain that no man will ever know and I tried to press “start” and “stop” when I thought the contractions were starting and stopping. Seemed like an even distribution of the workload at the time. The problem was that there was no start or stop. It was just an ongoing wave of pain. It was more intense at times but there was no rhyme or reason to it. And so when 45 minutes had passed and we hadn't called her back, Catherine called to check in. I don’t remember it word for word, but I think the conversation went something like this:

“So how’s it going?”

“I have no idea. She doesn't seem to be getting any relief from the contractions”

“Were you able to time them at all?”

“Not really. It just keeps going. I cant tell when they start or stop.”

“OK. Hmmm. Alright, well I’ll head over to the office and grab my kit and the tub and then I’ll head over and check her out.”

This was quite a relief to hear. I was staying calm with Jess like the birthing coach had taught me, but inside ... I was kinda freaking out. So the fact that someone was coming to help was really good news. Someone who knew what they were doing. I went to give Jess the good news. I told her Catherine was on the way. You’re doing great. Everything was fine. Just stay calm and help her through the pain. The cavalry was on the way. Then came a really bad one. It basically knocked her into a standing position like she was trying to run from the pain. Then I saw the blood. And that’s when I heard it. “I can’t do this. I don’t wanna do this. We need to go to the hospital” .

Now remember, that’s supposed to come at transition. It’s a little after 5 AM so she’s been having contractions for less than 4 hours. We were supposed to have a relaxing 8 to 12 hours of early labor, followed by a couple hours of active labor before she was supposed to “not wanna do this”. All my fears are being realized in that moment. She’s not going to be able to handle it. She’s going to need drugs or a C-section. We’re not going to be able to stick to our birth plan. I have failed my son before he’s even taken his first breath. Great! But there was one thing that was still sticking with me from our private session with Kathy.

My only job, if nothing else, was to keep calm for my wife. So as I’m sitting there with all my fears being realized, blood running from my wife’s insides and her telling me that we need to go to the hospital, I do the only thing I can think to do at that moment. I ignore her. I don’t tell her to relax or that we’ll get through it, no cliche speeches, no empowering one liners... I just ignore her. I stand there with her basically hanging from my neck. I brush the hair out of her face. I remain calm. And then it passes. She sits back down. “You OK?” She sort of mumbles yes. “Baby, you're doing sooo good. Everything is fine, I’m just gonna step out and see how long till Catherine get’s here. Call if you need me”

Now I’m freaking out. Nobody told me about blood. I mean they did. But not really. I wasn't expecting blood. Or if I was, I wasn't ready for it. And definitely not this early. So I called the cavalry. “Hey Catherine” trying very unsuccessfully to sound calm and relaxed “just curious if you knew about how long till you get here.” She said she was just getting the birth kit and the birthing tub from the office and that it would be about 20 minutes. “Ok, cause she doesn't seem to be doing very good. She’s saying that she wants to go to the hospital. And theres blood.” ... “Oh, that’s good” she says. Then a slight pause. “well, hmmm. OK, I don't think we’re gonna have time for the tub. Yeah, ok... I’m on my way.”

I gather myself. Back to the bathroom. I tried to draw a bath. She wasn’t interested. I tried to brush the hair out of her face. “Get your hands out of my face, I cant breath” I told her she was doing great. “You did this to me you son of a bitch!!” Ok, I made that last one up. But I seriously had no idea what else to do. Catherine couldn't get there quick enough. I’ve never been so happy to here the doorbell ring. It was Catherine. Catherine with medical supplies. Catherine with absorbent pads for the furniture and answers to questions and experience with this sort of thing. Catherine was here.

It was 5:30 when Catherine arrived. The next hour and a half was kind of a blur. Her assistant got there at about 6. She tried to do the things she normally did, but each time she did, she looked and we were already passed that point. This kid wanted out, and he wanted out now. We ended up on the living room floor, with Jess on her knees, draped onto the couch seat. The lights were low, there was music quietly playing, nobody spoke unless it was necessary. Now it was calm. The pushing was intense, but it all felt right. Colton was coming. I had told myself I wasn't going to look. But I couldn't help myself. I left her side to peek... and he was right there! I went back to her side and barely holding in tears, I told her she was doing great and that he was right there! She shushed me. And rightfully so. She was in the zone and I was being kind of a pussy. Then she stood up cause her legs were hurting.... just as a big one came. And she pushed. And then he was there. And not to ruin the moment, but I want to back up for just a second to make sure you understand the timeline here. My wife got off of work at 10:45, got home at 11, her water broke at 11:15 and without a drop of drugs, she had that kid in her arms at 7:00 the next morning. Colton was here. Colton, with a full head of hair on a cone shaped head. Colton, all covered in goo. Colton, with all the wonder in the world. Colton was here. Colton is here.