Laurel turns one year old tomorrow! I've been celebrating the final weeks before her first birthday with a series of posts about her birth. You are reading the fourth installment of this series, the first half of her actual birth story, and here are links to installments one, two, and three. (And if you're looking for the conclusion to the birth story, here it is: installment five.)
Laurel's official due date was January 17, 2009, but I just knew she would be born before her 40 weeks of gestation had passed. Her brother had come slightly early, and I figured she would do the same. In fact, I was pretty sure she would be born at 38 weeks and five days, which was January 8. And I was right.
Some people have asked how I knew, and I have to say that I have absolutely no idea. I'm not a New Agey or Earth-Mothery person, and I'm not comfortable attributing my knowledge to anything like a premonition or woman's intuition.
I actually chose Thursday, January 8 partly as a wish, because it was the first day I didn't have anything scheduled! On Monday the auto insurance adjuster came to our house to investigate the rodents in our car; on Tuesday Isaac had a playdate; and on Wednesday we had a photo shoot with a "maternity photographer" in the morning and Craig worked at Isaac's preschool in the afternoon. So Thursday was a good day to have a baby!
I'm joking, but my gut feeling about the 8th was strong enough that I went to some effort beforehand to ensure the photography and the school workday would be completed on the 7th, because I wanted to have a completely clear calendar starting on the 8th.
Actually, our house cleaners did come the morning of the 8th, but the baby (not named yet!) was already five or six hours old by then.
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And now we'll begin the birth story!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
For several weeks I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions (I had none when I was pregnant with Isaac!), and starting around 6:30 p.m. they even caused a prickling sensation in my lower abdomen -- not "pain," exactly, but not unlike pain. Around 7:00 p.m. I timed the mild contractions for a while, and they didn't seem like a big deal: they were happening every five to ten minutes and lasting for 45 seconds to a minute. Just in case, I called the midwife, Beah. She said she thought we'd have a baby in the next few days, and told me to eat a good dinner and go right to bed.
I called my parents to tell them this, because they were planning to come to my house for the birth. My mother was going to be part of my birth team, while my father was going to watch three-year-old Isaac. My parents live two hours away, and if for some reason they couldn't make it in time, we had a whole list of friends and neighbors on standby.
My parents were excited, but unimpressed. They said, "Well, call us before you go to bed, and of course call us when you feel like something is happening."
I said, "I am. This is that phone call." Despite the midwife's opinion to the contrary, despite the lackluster contractions, I felt like something was about to happen.
My parents still didn't sound convinced, and they asked me to call them back later with an update. But then at 8:00 p.m. they called and said they were already in the car on their way to my house! Their feeling was that maybe they'd appreciate not having to make the drive when I really did go into labor the next day, or the day after that.
Around 8:00 p.m. Craig began putting Isaac to bed, and I straightened up around the house a little bit. A few of the contractions were strong enough that I paused for a moment and leaned on something, but they still didn't really hurt. But I was certain by now that I was in pre-labor, if not actual labor, and I was glad that my parents were on their way so someone would be there for Isaac.
At 9:00 p.m. I went to bed, although I didn't really sleep. The contractions slowed way down, perhaps to every 20 or 30 minutes.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
At 1:15 a.m. I had a strong, painful contraction, so powerful that it propelled me out of bed, onto my feet, and across the room. It was like I had tried to run away from it.
My first thought was, "I don't want another one like that." I was shocked and scared. For some reason I put on my sweatpants and sandals. I went to the bathroom, where I had another equally strong contraction and an equally overwhelmed reaction to it. Then my water broke -- not a lot of fluid, but enough for me to see it was clear and pink-tinged.
I woke up Craig. Then, even though my labor had just begun, I called the midwife. I was scared and confused and having a hard time figuring things out. When she asked how far apart the contractions were, I said I thought every eight minutes. But how could that be? Did it take me eight minutes to get dressed and walk to the bathroom? And had there really only been two contractions so far? And why were they so overwhelmingly strong?
While I was trying to speak to the midwife on the phone I had a third contraction, maybe four or five minutes after the last. This contraction was only half the strength of the others, though, and not difficult to relax and breathe through -- unlike the first two.
Based on this, the midwife said she thought it was still early in my labor, but that she would send her assistant over and they would assess the situation. She also said to call her back immediately if anything changed. I still felt scared and uncertain, especially since this labor seemed so different from my first one; I wanted her to come to my house right away, but I didn't say anything. I figured I'd just wait for the assistant.
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Tune in next time for the conclusion!
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