Squeezing out a baby, Part 2

(Disclaimer - if you are pregnant and soon to birth a little babe (as many people I know reading this are) don't read this story right now. But, if you are anything like me you will anyways, so just remember this is not and will not be your birthing experience. I love love love the birthing center and would love to return there to have a baby.  I cannot say enough about how wonderful the people are...more on that in a future post).

December 9th, 2011. Contractions all night.  What I would now, looking back after experiencing labor, call mild to moderately painful contractions with some nausea...duped by the mysterious world of birthing, the contractions dissapeared by the morning.

By now McDaddy had already attended one of Nana Bear's celebrations of life sans the wife and babe.  A decision made based on a fear of being cut open in some random hospital far away from home.  I still feel sad thinking about how McDaddy went through all the funeral shenanigans without me.  I feel sad I never got to experience the closure that comes with being surrounded by a group of people who have one thing in common, they loved the Nana Bear.  They loved the Nana Bear and wanted to talk about how she rocked at Wii frisbee golf, ate yogurt off a plate, and surprised her 27 year-old son and his wife with a trip the Chuck E. Cheese's for Christmas so she could play what would be her last game of "whack a mole."

Uneventful Weekend. McDaddy in Fort Myers at second Nana Bear service.  Sunday woke up nauseas with diarrhea (sorry).  Started having contractions. Ignoring contractions.  Sunday night at church, barely made it, so uncomfortable, almost squeezed a hole in McDaddy's arm.  Contractions all night, at one point they were 3-5 minutes apart lasting (I won't pretend to remember) for a couple of hours. Called the midwife, was told to wait until things sped up.  Duped again....morning came and contractions were sporadic and less intense.

Made appointment to get checked at birthing center.  Detour chiropractor to turn a baby.  Butt adjusted and one hour of walking like a pigeon nine months pregnant and the never ending hope that Charlie Belle wanted to flip.  More contractions.  Birthing Center - 5cm dilated!!! and a little "mucking around" to get things moving even more.  Went to Publix to pick up some things (waited outside for McDaddy because every few minutes I thought my insides would fall out), worst car ride ever, probably looked obscene as I rode on my hands a knees back to the birthing center. Few hours later 7-8cm.  Few hours later 8-9cm.  Few hours later 8-9cm.  Few hours later 8-9cm. Mixed in those few hours that kept passing were the most intense physical and emotional moments of McDaddy and I's life.

Those intense hours included vomiting a castor oil smoothie (that's a texture I will never forget), climbing in and out of a birthing tub, squatting on a stool with a baby hole, doing lunges and squats in the birthing center yard, and relying on God, the orchestrator of our lives, to protect our baby and bring her into the world safely. Some one-liners spoken to McDaddy included "I'm so tired," "I can't do this," "how much longer," "I think I'm dying," and the most commonly yelled phrase "my back, my back, my back" as I felt my coccyx was being split with an ice pick. I went from being in the birthing tub with a sports bra, t-shirt, and underwear to running to the tub when given permission, all modesty lost.  All composure gone, I begged any and all passer-by's to push on my back as I anticipated my next contraction and would panic and say "not again, please Lord, not another one."

30 more minutes. Then 30 more minutes. Then 30 more minutes.  The response to my never ending question "how much longer." The midwife pulled McDaddy aside and said we needed to think about transferring to the hospital. McDaddy said he had his first moments of being angry with God.  Nana Bear dying and all the craziness of the year and in this moment he was finally pissed off. One more check- almost 10cm, just a "lip of cervix."  Now 10cm and allowed to push, what a wonderful thing to be able to push.  McDaddy later told me the anger melted away and he felt a renewed sense of "we can do this" and as I cried and grabbed onto him for the millionth time he reassured me and tearfully told me that Jesus has our back (in so many words).

Stop pushing. Lip of cervix. Butts just don't have the impact on a cervix that a head does, and being 10cm was a requirement for me to push. To resist the urge to push is like trying to hold a watermelon sized motorboat doused in tabasco sauce in your rectum (sorry again).



Tuesday Afternoon. Charlie Belle's birthday.  To be continued....