Birth Story: Mom's POV

Dear Cole,

You turned four months last week, and I am amazed by how fast the time has flown. On one hand, you have changed so much in a few short months. On the other hand, it seems like you have been part of our family for a very long time, much longer than just four months. Before any more time passes, I wanted to write down your birth story from my point of view—probably much more for my benefit than yours. My memory is so notoriously poor, and while I know I will never forget the day you were born, I may forget some details, and I really don’t want to. I want those memories to remain fresh since it was such an amazing day.

At some point during my third trimester, I asked one of the midwives about when I should head to the hospital when labor begins. She said to give them a call when contractions became regular. “You’ve been through this before,” she remarked, “so you remember what real contractions feel like.” I nodded because I thought I did.

On Friday, October 26, I had stomach cramps most of the day, nasty gas cramps. Constipation has been a major problem for me throughout this pregnancy, so having gas cramps was nothing new. I did note to myself that they were stronger and more uncomfortable than usual. But I went on doing things that I needed to do

These cramps woke me up around 1 a.m. I was starting to get a back ache, too. At 4:30, I woke up again. As I tossed and turned, trying to get back to sleep, I kept glancing at my clock radio and soon realized that these “gas cramps” had a certain pattern to them. It was then that it occurred to me that perhaps these were not gas cramps after all but real contractions. I tried timing the duration of them, but that was not easy to do with the digital clock. I finally got up and went downstairs, turning on my computer and feverishly trying to finish up some last-minute work. I tracked my contractions on my computer, too.
4:49 – 30 sec
4:55 – 60 sec.
5:02 – 60 sec.
5:09 – 45 sec.
5:15 – 60 sec.

At 5:30, I woke up your dad and called the hospital. The contractions were uncomfortable, but I could still talk through them. The doctor on call told me to take a shower and call back when the contractions got to be 5 minutes apart. Both daddy and I took showers and started getting ready. At that point, Babushka and Seriozha got up to find out why we were up so early on a Saturday. I have to tell you, having company when you are dealing with contractions is not a helpful thing. They kept talking, perhaps trying to take my mind off, but I could not maintain the conversation. Both Babushka and Seriozha would have the look of fear come across their faces every time I had to stop talking and breathe through the pain. The contractions started spacing out—my body was not liking all of this attention. So I went to the bedroom and lied down. The contractions were not getting much closer, but they were getting stronger and longer. I was ready.

At 7 a.m., we were on our way to the hospital. My back was killing me, and I remarked to daddy that I didn’t remember having this much pain with Jon. At 7:40, Margie, the midwife, checked me and happily announced, “You are at 7 cm!” No wonder the pain was so much stronger—I got epidural when I was 4 cm with Jon. “I need epidural now,” I said (screamed?). Another midwife, Patrice, piped in, “You are so close, you can do it without the drugs.” “I know I can,” I said (snapped back?), “but I don’t want to.” They were happy to oblige, but they warned me that if my water broke or if I dilated much further, it would be too late for the epidural. That sent me into a bit of a panic mode: having to give birth without drugs was one of my biggest fears about labor this time around. It felt like it took forever for the anesthesiologist to show up, and the pain was intense. Patrice showed daddy how to apply pressure to my back to help with back labor. L&D nurse, Kate, was amazing too—what a wonderful, calming influence. While we were waiting for the anesthesiologist, I got hooked up to antibiotics for group B strep, a very common infections that’s harmless to the mother but dangerous to the baby. Margie mentioned she was glad I was asking for epidural because they needed to stall my labor—I needed at least four hours (or ideally eight) of antibiotics before delivery.

Finally, around 9 a.m., anesthesiologist showed up, and epidural brought sweet relief.

At 11:20, Margie checked me. “We better set up for delivery now.” It was still not quite four hours for antibiotics, but it was close. She broke my bag of water. I thought about how odd it was that with Jon, having my water break was the first sign of labor, but with you, the water never broke, even though I was fully dilated and effaced.

I pushed once. “I can see his head,” your daddy said. “Whoa, hold on, stop pushing,” Margie said. “Dad, do you want to deliver your son?” Your daddy looked stunned and a little uncomfortable. “I won’t be offended if you don’t want to do it,” I said. But he hesitated only for a moment, and then rushed to the bathroom to wash his hands.

A minute later I pushed again. And the most amazing thing happened. My husband, the love of my life, with his own hands pulled out our son, the newest love of my life, from my body and placed him on my belly. It was 11:38 a.m.

I can not find words right now (doubt if I ever will) to describe what a miraculous moment it was. I don’t remember much after that. You are here. You are perfect. You are ours. You are my miracle.