Berf story, part 2

The weather up until Saturday, February 22, had been all very February-like. Which is to say terrible. But that morning was sunny and warm, almost balmy.

We all kept saying: "Good day to have a birthday!" Or was it "Good day to have a baby!" ... Something like that.

And though the contractions were very irregular, they weren't ever completely stopping and there was a different quality to them that had been missing, a sensation I remembered from my last labor. Instead of just pain, there was very strong pressure, a vice-like squeezing in my lower abdomen. There was also some pink...product coming out, which had only ever happened right after the sweeps.

I started stressing over Harper being around with the pain escalating, so she and Clay headed off to their happy place (the mall) for awhile. My mom and I found a plowed street to walk on and headed out for some exercise. I was feeling well-rested and generally okay, just crampy and squeezed. A few minutes into our walk, we passed a couple walking the other way.

"Woah! Big belly there. When're you due?"

"Last week actually..."

"Ohhh yes. I know the feeling! I was very overdue with my son 20 years ago. Today is his birthday!"

"No way!"

"Yep. It's a great day to have a birthday." (They actually said this!)

Of course I took this as a great sign from the universe/God/Buddha and smiled to myself. We walked on a bit longer before turning around. I was hungry and if this thing was happening, I had to get some real food in me before the party really started.

I knew I needed something healthy and organic to fuel the baby for her big journey, so we drove the 20 minutes to McDonald's and I ordered a Big Mac, fries, and a Coke. Mmmm. As we were eating, the squeezing and cramps started noticeably picking up, but I was able to fill up and still laugh (a little) in between focusing -- it felt like my last hurrah as a mom of one. The only problem was, I really felt like I needed to go. But I couldn't. But I was obsessed with the thought that if I could just make that happen, my body could do a better job with all this. It didn't occur to me even once that that feeling was baby's head pushing down...

We got back in the car and headed home.

"Can we make a quick stop at the grocery store to grab some milk?" my mom asked.
"I actually don't think so. No."

In the past ten minutes, things had gotten real. I called both the midwife on duty and my doula and told them my status. They won't admit you to the center until you're 5 centimeters, so I was still a little confused about how I'd know when I was ready. It's a little clearer when you're probably around 3, but 5 felt like... would I wait too long or not long enough? And because it was a Saturday and the office was closed, there was the added pressure of knowing I was calling in the midwife from her home and she'd have to open the center just for me. If I wasn't really ready, she'd have to go home and so would I and then rinse/repeat.

She explained that there were notches and upticks in intensity and that it sounded like I was on my way to 3 centimeters. And then after the next uptick it would be time to come in. That sounded confusing, but by now we were home and I needed to use the bathroom (but not really) and hop in the shower, so I said sure yup makes sense.

Without thinking, I walked up to my bedroom and collapsed at the edge of the bed into the fetal position. I immediately fell into a deep sleep for 20 minutes at which point I was woken up by a very, very strong contraction. I fell to the ground and counted to 30, focusing intently on each number as I said it under my breath. When I sat back up I felt incredibly and ridiculously nauseated. Okay, one uptick complete. I was probably at 3. I looked at the clock and it was 2:30.

The next three hours I spent almost entirely in the shower and/or trying to go to the bathroom. It felt good to sit down on the toilet (I now know that helped take some of the pressure off baby's big ol head pressing down), but nothing happened and ultimately I'd feel frustrated and the pain would be too much and I'd run back into the shower. The contractions were strong and pretty regular, though I wasn't timing them (from what I remember?!). About once an hour I checked in with my doula, but I'd have to hurry off the phone within 2 minutes because life outside of the shower was intolerable.

I wasn't panicked at all through this part and felt really proud of myself for staying so focused and calm. With Harper, I was literally flapping my hands and arms, trying to find my way out of the pain. This time I went into it and just surrendered for each 30-60 second contraction. BUT. This time I didn't have back labor and I finally understood what people were talking about when they said they'd "gather their strength" or have a little break to feel pretty normal in between contractions. I literally had no break with Harper's labor. There were times I couldn't even tell what was a contraction and what wasn't! This round it felt like it was supposed to: Things were intense and building, but each contraction had a clear beginning and ending and I could use my resources to get through it and then enjoy ("enjoy") the short rest period.

Though I'd done some solid prep with Hypnobabies and also practiced with other techniques during my pregnancy, now that I was in it full swing all I wanted to do was sit in the shower and work with the counting. Because I knew that each contraction was a discrete event, it brought me comfort to live inside the numbers. You never know quite what will work ahead of time, I s'pose. I also started making low moaning noises. At first it felt unnatural because I was literally doing it just because I'd read it in a book, but once I realized how much it helped, I couldn't be stopped.

Around 5:30 things were getting very intense. I had been alone in the bathroom for a long time and had started planning the rest of my life in there. I still felt in control, but I couldn't step out of the shower for more than 30 seconds, and I could barely hold a conversation. I called my doula.

"How would you feel about getting in the car now?"
"Terrible."
"Okay. So...how do you think you might feel about getting in the car an hour from now?"
"Solid point."

It seemed crazy that after all these months and weeks and false alarms, it was really time to get in the car and do this thing. I felt almost embarrassed about announcing it. Clay and Harper were back from the mall now (with a new Build-a-Bear in tow) and everyone was chatting in the kitchen.

"I think we need to go."
"Really?" Clay looked surprised.
"Really."
"Okay. I have time to head up a quick dinner, right?"
"No. I don't think so. No." (Did he grab something before we left? No idea.)

By now, I was crouched way down low and swaying back and forth. It relieved a lot of pressure and if I could count and focus and moan while doing it, I felt like I could bear it. I couldn't believe I was about to get in the car where there was no crouching or hot shower for 20+ minutes. But my doula was right -- we had to go now, because this was only getting worse. I couldn't believe how well this timing was lining up -- I'd spent a ton of time visualizing this exact scenario: Saying goodbye to Harper right around her dinner and bedtime, so I'd have the baby late at night/early early morning and see her again when she woke up.

I said my calmest goodbye to her "I think it's time for Mommy to have the baby and for you to have dinner and go to bed! You'll have so much fun with Grammy..." But I had to scram before another contraction hit. I don't think I even felt or got teary, I just wasn't in the headspace for that. A few minutes before 6 we loaded up and pulled out of the driveway.

I immediately put on the Rent soundtrack (I know...) and started moaning/singing/counting. Clay seemed alarmed by how close the contractions were to each other (there was about 30 seconds between each one) and kept saying "Really? Another one?" I was crouched in the front seat, rubbing my fist against my forehead and singing Santa Fe. I felt like a legitimately crazy person. I guess I was.