Birth.

I could write a dissertation on the differences between the birth of my two daughters.  But today I won't.  What I will write is this: my first experience of pregnancy and birth was riddled with fear, from the posters and pamphlets on the walls of the office I visited monthly, to the horror stories and warnings given to me by my nurse practitioner.  Through my second pregnancy, the midwives taught me to trust.  They taught me to trust my body, my senses, my abilities, and my intuitions.  They taught me to believe that women are strong.  They empowered me, and I felt radiant and confident every single day.

I had the feeling, and the hope that Miss Amelia would arrive slightly earlier than her sister, who was born at 40 weeks and 5 days.  I had this feeling, because I was experiencing such regular Braxton Hicks contractions as early as three months into the pregnancy.  These contractions would come so regularly that I actually had fear in my heart that I would have a premature baby.  The midwives told me to drink some tea, and take a bath.  What simple advice!  And each time the contractions would come, some tea and a bath would take them away.  This is only one of the many ways the midwives won me over.

Fast-forward to the 36th week of my pregnancy, and you would find me having tons of Braxton Hicks again, excitedly wondering when they would graduate into the real thing.  And somehow, just like her sister, as soon as I reached 37 weeks, Amelia completely changed her mind.  Contractions completely ceased, and my uterus lead to be entirely uneventful all the way to 40 weeks!

At 40 weeks and 4 days I was 3 centimeters dilated, and very well effaced, yet still no contractions.  I decided to have my membranes swept, went to the mall with my mom, and then spent the rest of the day feeling like a 13 year old girl, cramping, crying my eyes out, and texting my mommy begging her to bring me chocolate, ice cream, cookies, and any other kind of sugary snack I could think of.  My midwife that day told me (with a knowing smile), "We are going to have this baby before you risk out on Friday, definitely."

The next morning Juliet and I awoke, and began our regular routine.  My misery continued, and I decided it would have to be a movie day.  At 11 am I was putting in a dvd for Juliet (I have no idea what movies we ended up watching), when the most powerful contractions I had yet felt began to hit me every five minutes.  I always had the idea that labor starts gradually and then grows, but at this moment I completely freaked!  They came out of nowhere, and were already five minutes apart?!  I began making plans, sent texts to our aunt, that she may have to come and watch Juliet at any moment, and then I called the midwives to see what they thought.  I stalled about texting Michael, because I didn't want to freak him out while he was at work!  The midwives advised me to continue timing them for an hour, and if they continued regularly to call back.

Then the weirdest thing happened.  I would have four or five contractions five minutes apart, and then I would experience a long break, at which time I would get majorly depressed, thinking it was just false labor again.  Then after about 10 or 15 minutes the contractions would return, five minutes apart, I'd have four or five, and then I'd have another break.  Throughout this time, I was texting Michael, 

"This is intense.  Come home now."

"Nevermind, it's gone."

"Nope, this is definitely it.  Get home fast!"

"Seriously?! False alarm."

He was so flustered at work, that he was confusing everyone.  He told me this, and I said, "I'm confused!"

Finally at one point the break between contractions went on so long, that I got angry, depressed, and was about to flip, when I decided to make a cup of red raspberry leaf tea, and chugged the whole thing.  Within two minutes I was in full on labor, grasping my husband's computer chair so hard I'm pretty sure there's dents in the frame.  I finally texted him, "Come home. Now."  He asked, "Really?" And I said, "Yes."  All texting conversation was over.  I was continuing the time the contractions, but I had no idea what the results were.

Through this time I was laboring without my husband beside me, I had the best little doula a woman could ask for!  Between contractions I would rest on my knees and lay my face on the couch and breath, and when a contraction came, I would move to the computer (folding) chair, and grasp the seat, and breathe, and squat.  The entire time Juliet stayed by my side.  She held my skirt, and said, "Help you? Help you?"  At one point I didn't make it to the computer chair in time, and suffered a contraction on the floor.  Juliet grabbed my clothes, and tried to help me up, saying, "Mama! Up! Help you!"  At this moment I realized that these were literally our last moments as the dynamic duo we've been for 21 months, and I was overwhelmed with emotion.  I explained to Juliet that I was okay, but it was time for me to have her baby sister.  I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I threw myself on the floor, grabbed my child and held her so tight, and just sobbed.  She hugged me, patted my back, then ran away, and returned with her stuffed frog, whom she knew that if I hugged him I would feel better.  Best birth coach ever.

Finally Michael arrived home at 1:30pm, and then it was time to find out where our babysitter was! She thought she had more time, and we said, "Nope.  Not really."  She arrived shortly after, to find me laying on my side on the couch, and I would hold Michael's hands and press outward against him.  When I finally sat up I got super nauseous, and told Michael, "I am going to vomit right now."  He got flustered, and asked what I needed and all I could say was, "I am going to vomit right now."  He grabbed the closest thing, our new mini-cooler.  I threw up, and then punched my fist in the air and shouted, "One centimeter! Oh yeah!"

We walked out to the car, and like a blessing from Heaven, I had another break between contractions, and got to breathe the entire drive to the birthing center (we only live five minutes away).  We made it in, and as they were asking me which room I wanted, I was grasping my husbands hands, breathing and contracting, and thinking, "Seriously?! Just put me in one!"  I chose the room I liked the most, the southwest room.  It reminded me of home, so I was cozy there.  They began filling the tub for me, and asked if I wanted a water birth.  I told them, "Water birth grosses me out.  I just want a spa day."  Those tubs look amazing.

The midwifery student then preceded to check my cervix, which she found to already be 7 cm, meaning that I had already gone through the majority of my labor on my own, while making lunch for my toddler.  As she was checking the 7cm, she said, "Oh no. Wait.  Now you're 8."  Things were moving faster than I could have imagined.  After this point, the midwife went away, and Michael and I were in this room alone together with no idea what to expect.  

I laid down during a few contractions, and then they returned and asked to check me again.  I had a hard time getting onto my back, but when I did they told me I should be ready to push.  I had a woman holding each leg, and the midwife was trying to coach me on what to do.  "Pull on your leg, don't push your leg, push your baby, pull your leg." I had no idea what she was trying to make me do.  The entire thing felt so unnatural, and there was no urge to push.  I asked, "Can I stand?"  No questions asked, they helped me get off the bed, onto my feet, and then the midwives just stood back, while my husband and I worked together.  I held his biceps, and he held my elbows.  He supported me through the contractions as I would squat and breathe, and I would rest my head on his chest in between.  It was intimate, and beautiful, while we labored together as a team.  

The contractions eventually took over completely and I did not need to wonder what to do.  I could breathe when I needed, and push when it felt right.  The midwifery student crouched on the floor and kept her eye on Amelia.  Sometimes I don't even know if my eyes were open or closed.  Every bit of my senses were turned so internally that all I remember was the sensation of my hips and pelvis, and eventually the crowning of my child.  I remember seeing my blood splatter the floor, and being so full of pure motivation that I didn't waste a moment being scared or worried.  Shortly after I saw blood, there was a pop, and my waters broke and splashed across my feet.  It was awesome!  (I'm pretty sure that was Michael's favorite part).  

Soon I felt Amelia's head coming through the birth canal.  I had wondered what it would feel like.  Pain, yet the pain was so masked by the excitement of her impending arrival, that it was not a burden to shy away from, but a motivation which I yearned to bear into.  And so I did.  She entered the canal and then receded, and that's when I thought, "We are so close, girl, you are not doing that again! It's time!"  And I bore down with everything that I had, only taking short enough breaks to renew my oxygen, and strait back to business.  

I don't know how long I pushed, but it felt like no time at all.  I remember my leg shaking with the pain, rising up on my tip toes, and reminding myself that it was time to stand strong as a mountain, and not to let my body give into the pain.  When I could feel that it was time I stepped my feet wide, and gave it all I had.  I had no reservations vocally.  I did not scream like they do in movies, but created a more guttural sound that helped me bear through the effort.  I was loud.  Everything is more fun when you choose to be loud.  I gasped for breath between pushes.  Then the midwife said, "Okay, you're going to reach down and catch your baby."  I thought, "What?! Don't you see what I'm going through?!"  I told her, "I don't think I can." And she said, "You can."  And suddenly massive pressure turned to motion moving fluidly through me, and my hands were hot, and heavy, and I hugged that purple little body to mine with no intention of letting go, ever.  I was so relieved and elated, I felt completed.  I was so engulfed in the feeling of that hot little body against mine that the midwives had to snap me out of my elation and get me to lay down.

I was still wearing the clothing I had no intention of laboring in.  It all happened so fast.  The midwife was very gingerly asking if she could help me get my shirt off, and I told her, "Take it all off!" I wanted my skin to be touching my baby's skin more than anything at that moment.  My hands still bloody, her cord uncut, she urinated on me, so many sensations of fluid and heat; it was raw, it was real, and it was beautiful.  There was nothing that could distract me from the pure joy that was my healthy child.  I remember feeling the umbilical cord still attached to the placenta inside of me.  The midwife was tugging it, and my placenta was stubborn.  I looked at my baby and could not stop speaking her praises even through the slight struggled and discomfort of delivering the placenta.

Michael was concerned about my health, and in my trust in the midwives care, I urged him to come see his child.  He sat in the bed beside me and wore the smile of a man who held his wife through the entire creation of his child.  He was my physical and emotional support from the very start.  I was suffering from shingles when this beautiful child was conceived.  It was not a romantic moment.  Even then, as I bit through the excruciating pain I experienced from the illness I thought of how badly I wanted this child.  I thought of how worth it the discomfort, the pain, every ache, every tear was, and would be, for the creation of a beautiful body, in which would harness a precious soul.  A beautiful daughter of God, wrapped in a gift created from ourselves.

That is Amelia River.