3/21/12: An Eventful Day

Both our midwifes and those at the childbirth class emphasized that what you see in movies in regards to water breaking amounts to little more than lies. It's not a sign that you need to panic and run around like a fool collecting your overnight bags and driving recklessly to the hospital. Many women don't even experience it until they are well into active labor. It just means that, yeah, you'll probably be giving birth in the next 24 hours or so. Water breaking isn't necessarily revealed with a splash like the term suggests (I tend to picture a damn bursting). In Andrea's case, she sprung a leak.

Andrea woke up on Tuesday morning with a light trickle dripping down her leg. Because the baby rests much of its weigh atop the bladder, she wasn't sure if it was amniotic fluid or a little pee that'd been pushed out (pregnancy really helps both parties getter over their embarrassment/squeamishness in regards to bodily fluids. Good prep for the baby). Fortunately, we had an appointment with the midwife's that day anyway, so the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

The midwifes did a little cotton swab test and, sure enough, amniotic fluid. Nothing too serious. We knew we still had a fair amount of time since their weren't any huge contractions along with the rupture, but if we wanted a home birth (as we did), we'd have be a little more active in getting labor to start. The risk being that with the amniotic sac leaking, the baby (and mother) are more susceptible to infections and the need of hospital care (with their superior resources and technology). For Andrea, this meant drinking castor oil (mixed in a root beer float!) Wednesday morning and starting a regimen of herbs that encourage cramping. All of this would get her muscles contracting and moving things along. For me, this meant that we had a few more errands to run before we could get home to watch Parks and Recreation on Netflix. And calling my coworker to let him know that he'd have to cover for me on Wednesday.

The night passed with little to note. I stayed up until 1 AM reading believing with bravado and bluster that Oliver would be born the next day at a reasonable hour. Andrea's water had already broken, so it was only a matter of time. Andrea woke up before me to eat some food so she could start her inducement procedures. When I finally ("finally" meaning at 9 AM) got out of bed, she told me the deluge came. Being the old pro at this that I am, I just go ahead and assume that that means the sac had still mostly been protected and the risk of infection up until that point was minimal, so even though it had already been 24 hours since the first signs of amniotic fluid, I wasn't very concerned.

Andrea and I decided it would be best to take Shasta (our dog) to a friend's house given how excited she was (and for how long) the last time the midwifes were over. I spent a little longer talking to the friend than I intended, but the friend rules and we had lots to talk about. I left Shasta with another dog's chew toy in her mouth and returned to Andrea walking around timing contractions. My how much things changed! She said that she talked to our midwife, Laura, who asked about contractions. Andrea said that they weren't that bad or frequent. Ten minutes after hanging up, they were. Fortunately, the midwife was on the way. At some point, I put the cat, Roxy, outside so she wouldn't try to lay on Andrea during a contraction (may have happened after the midwife showed up).

Most of the time spent waiting for the midwife was in deep concentration for Andrea, who was coping with contractions. I was kind of milling around feeling slightly bad about not being in pain and not knowing exactly what I can do for her (our classes stressed that the birth partner shouldn't ask a lot of questions during the process, which can be frustrating since I want to make sure I get her exactly what she wants. Alas...). Eventually, Laura gets there, but mostly fills out paperwork and observes. She lets me know a few things I could do, which helps me for the rest of the night, though my primary worry is when to fill up the birth pool. Laura also checks some vital signs and takes a blood sample to make sure Andrea's white blood cells are up to snuff. There's little concern of Andrea going into active labor any time soon and there are warnings that if she doesn't have the child by 8 PM, we should go to the hospital. Laura leaves to take the blood to the lab and says she'll be back in two to three hours, telling me that sometimes women progress better without the watchful of a midwife on her.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later (mistyped initially as "labor"), having moved Andrea to the bed, the contractions became so intense that Andrea told me she needs to start pushing. The thought of this terrifies me because I'm alone, unqualified, and childbirth is icky (I should note that less than one week earlier, I had a dream in which the midwifes didn't arrive in time and I had to deliver Oliver. I was successful, but his umbilical cord went into the back of his head). I call Laura and tell her that Andrea feels the need to push (in my head I'm thinking that Andrea doesn't really know what she's talking about because she's never done this before and obviously Laura wouldn't have said two or three hours if it wasn't going to be at least that long for the baby to start coming) and I can sense a hesitation in Laura's voice when she says she's turning around now (later, I ask if she had even made it to the lab and Laura said she was four minutes away and trying to figure out if she should make the delivery or turn around immediately. She made the delivery. The labs came back fine). Roxy takes her recurring place outside of our bedroom window, head visible from the nose up, meowing incessantly to come inside.Meanwhile, Andrea's grunts of agony are getting more intense and I'm simply getting more tense. I don't want to do this alone. And should I fill up the tub now?

Laura returned after about twenty to thirty minutes and I was relieved that I wasn't going to have to look at the baby crowning. I took my place as Andrea's primary water giver and marveled at the apparent nonchalance of Laura walking around the house during Andrea's contractions. Surely these were signs that the baby was going to shoot out at any moment. Laura told me that it would be a good time to fill the tub (YES!) and I go about showing off my prowess at turning on the shower (there was a hose attached [by ME!] from where the shower head goes to the tub) and maintaining a nice temperature in the tub. I now had two jobs: comfort Andrea and monitor the tub.

Of course, we ran out of hot water (that tub is big) and the water temperature dropped to something slightly higher than temperate. I asked if I should put some big pots on the boil to which Laura replied something life, "brilliant! It's clear to me now why Andrea loves you so." The unfortunate flip-side to this lightning bolt of genius is that now my mind is thinking of the pots boiling over while I'm in with Andrea. But it's for her comfort, so I'm certain she'll appreciate it. And if you're wondering what Andrea is doing during this time, it's basically the same thing she was doing while we were alone together: grunting, groaning, intense pain, and mild relaxation between.

Eventually two more midwife's, Linda and Lisa (a student), showed up and we crowd around Andrea. They monitor the baby's heart rate during and after contractions. Everything is going fine. The head starts to crown. Lisa calls me back. Inside, I reject the offer without hesitation. In reality, I accept because there's an audience and I don't want them to think me uncaring about the birth of my child. Peer pressure is rough...

I go back to look and a head starts poking it's way out. Much as I suspect (and remember from some videos from the childbirth class) it's weird. Shockingly, though, from then on I secretly want to watch the baby push his way out. Instead of focusing entirely on Andrea's face, I try to peer down to check the status of the head and get mildly frustrated when there's a midwife arm in my way. Top-side, Andrea is doing well, but struggling a little (it turns out, Oliver had a hand next to his face during the process). Even in light of the effort, she is the most polite person I've ever encountered. She says "thank you" (unnecessarily) to encouragement and refuses to swear (even using some old-timey curse substitutes that I've been kicking myself for forgetting). Aside from wanting to watch the head pop out, the other thing I wasn't prepared for was how much I enjoyed watching Andrea's reactions. I never wanted to record the childbirth, but if I could've just focus the camera on her face, that would've be amazing (the only other photo I really wanted to take was from the wall's perspective with the three midwifes watching Andrea push and Roxy's head peering through the window in the background. That image will stick with me forever). Prior to the labor, I always assumed that seeing her in pain was going to make me feel sad for her. But it didn't. Because she rocked it out.

Oliver was born at 5:45 PM on March 21, 2012. He weighed 8 lbs 13 oz (beating my birthweight by 5 oz) and was 20.5 inches long. The entire labor lasted about 5.5 hours. Unfortunately, Andrea had more bleeding than normal and she was hooked up to IV drips two separate times to rehydrate and I quickly thawed some beef and cooked burgers and chard to get her iron back up. Linda ran around for about an hour collecting supplies from various places around town to avoid having to go to the hospital for what might have been a torn cervix. Fortunately, with the aid of better lighting, everything looked good. The aftermath of the birth took nearly as long as the labor, which seems like it was due since Andrea will admit that her pregnancy had been pretty easy up to that point. Andrea never used the birth pool.

So, I was right to be cocky. I went to bed around the same time I normally do. The day was just spent a little differently. I can't express how nice it was to be home instead of having to come home. And it wouldn't be life with a baby if I wasn't immediately annoyed at it's incessant 4 AM crying fit (if only my reaction could have been more like Shasta's, which was out of curiosity instead of sleep deprivation). Fortunately, we wound up getting plenty of sleep. It'd just been a long day (bonus: so far the baby doesn't cry when I hold him!).

(One thing that surprised me was how many household utilities we used. Hot water to fill the tub, stove on to heat the water, we frequently needed more lights turned on, washers and dryers running routinely,
everyone cooking food to avoid starvation. I'd love to see a day-to-day breakdown on my bills to see if things spiked.)