Day 166: Ainsley, Part 7 and Conclusion

I'm not sure how it sunk in, for the Spouse, that he was going to be the one delivering a baby. I know that it only dawned on me, slowly, that we didn't even have time for the paramedics. But at no point did I feel panic, and at no point did I see panic on my husband's face. I think we both knew that it was up to us, and we would do it. He simply set the phone aside, on speaker, and did what the 911 dispatch told him to do.

"Sir--can you see the baby's head?"
"No... yes. Yes. I can see it."
"Alright, now sir, I want you to guide it out slowly... Don't drop it! It will be slippery!... Is the head out?"
"Almost.... yes."
"Okay. Now guide the shoulders..."
"The shoulders are already out."
"Is the baby out?"
"Yes! Yes--the baby's out!"

And there it was. Our baby. Caught by his father's own hands and handed right into my arms. I remember my first look at my baby's face. All wrinkled and tiny.

At that moment, a knock came at the door and the Spouse yelled "Come in!" There was the slightest note of excitement in his voice. I heard my friend, Lisa's, voice answer back "How we doin'?" I remembered then--we had called her to stay with the kids while we went to the hospital. The Spouse answered her by saying "Well, we have a baby!" She gasped and hurried in, grabbed a towel and started rubbing the baby vigorously. I wanted to hear a vibrant, furious cry, but we were getting only baby squawks that worried me a little. Lisa and my husband both assured me that the baby was breathing. Then Lisa realized we were all referring to the baby as "he" and said "Oh wait! Did we look?!?... It's a Girl!!!"

I looked up at my husband and he looked down at me in utter surprise. A girl! We had both been secretly expecting a boy. In all the surprises of that night, we hadn't even thought to check if it was a boy or a girl.

And then the party started, my doula rushed in leading the firemen who had come to our rescue. They knelt down beside the couch and suctioned the baby, cut the cord, and started looking her over and making notes. About 5 minutes later, the ambulance finally arrived with the paramedics. They got right in there with the firemen and began shooting off questions, "What time was she born?" "Uuuuuh... 3:30?" "We'll say 3:28." In all the quiet commotion, I looked up from the couch at my husband, holding our baby girl in his arms--wrapped in one of the bath towels we'd gotten for our wedding, and my eyes met his. In that moment, we both smiled. I was so happy that I cried. It was like we had the greatest secret on earth. We had just brought a child to this planet--just us. We were the only ones present when she was born, in our calm and quiet home. He was my hero in that moment, and reflected in his eyes I saw all the love and strength that I possessed. I wouldn't have traded that experience for anything in the world.

Several minutes later, they wrapped our baby girl up in my arms and loaded us on to a gurney for the ride to the hospital. Dave stayed behind to clean up a little bit and to send a skype message to my friends Tori and Rob in New Zealand that our baby had arrived, at home, and it was a girl. I asked Lisa to please tell them the story, if she had time.

And then we were out the door, in the warm night that was full of stars. They loaded us into the ambulance and I remember my precious baby girl clutching my finger in her fist with a death grip as her eyes looked up into mine. I'd never had a baby quite that strong before.

When we arrived at the Emergency Room they wheeled us through a crush of nurses who had been on alert for us, and all of them wanted to see the baby. We reached Labor and Delivery and met another huge group of nurses who were chattering and excited. It felt like the biggest, happiest birthday party ever. We finally got a weight, however inaccurate, and guessed at an Apgar score. And I marvelled at the whole experience. I had given birth and never been hooked up to a single monitor or I.V. I was amazed at how much I had loved it.

Eventually, we hugged our paramedics goodbye and settled into the night. It was just our little family again--a baby and her parents. I held Ainsley in my arms, with her little pink hat, and I can honestly say: I have never known happiness like that.

Day 165: Ainsley, Part 6

People tend to raise their eyebrows at me and look skeptical when I say the following sentence, but I want to assure you that I mean it as much as I can mean anything: I absolutely love doing the whole labor and delivery thing with my husband.

Go ahead and scoff, but I think it is one of the funnest, coolest things we've ever gotten to do as a couple, and--since we've gone through this a few times now--it just gets better each time. We are a perfect match in this aspect of our marriage. An ideal team. If Labor was a sport, we could go for the gold. My Spouse knows exactly how to support and comfort me in a way that helps things to move forward and help me keep my cool. He knows when to gently remind me to open my eyes, and when to get in my face and mirror breathe with me. He knows just where to push on my back during a contraction, and when to make me laugh. And every time I look at him, I can see it in his eyes: he knows I can do this, and he is right there with me. I.love.it.

So. I was in the shower, full blast, and the Spouse was there with me (in his swimsuit, thanks) and we were doing just great. He would help me during contractions and then we'd joke and laugh in between. That's something that I love especially--laughing together and being so excited to meet this new little person. Whoever they are.

I remember, at one point, the Spouse saying "Becca--I think these contractions are closer than 5 minutes apart" and I said "No. They're erratic. Wayne said not to call back until they were consistently less than 5 minutes apart or my water broke."

The hot water held out for an entire hour, and then I stepped out of the shower and said that I thought it was time to call my doula and see where she was, and then to call our neighbor and tell her to come over and watch our other kids. The Spouse got dressed and called my doula while he pulled a few last minute things together.

I was in the family room, draped over my exercise ball and feeling very relaxed. I knew things were going great so far, and was absolutely thrilled at the way this birth was going. Then, suddenly, I heard a little "pop!"... and my water broke. I couldn't contain a huge grin--this was a sure fire ticket to Labor and Delivery! There would be no sending me home, now!! I called out that we should call Wayne and tell him we were on our way.

Then, as the next contraction descended, I heard a faint echo of my the obstetrician's voice at my last exam saying "Wow. Your water is never going to break on it's own." But it just had. And at that moment, I looked up at the Spouse, who was waiting for Wayne to pick up, and he looked down at me. And I swore. Because, in that instant I knew--we had missed our window. We had waited too long.

Wayne picked up and the phone was passed to me. I stood up to speak and, in a moment that struck me as too sitcom to be real, I said "I need to push." The voice that came back, calmly, said "Now, ma'am. These things take time." Shaking a bit, "No, sir. I need to hang up so I can call 911. I need to push." Irritated now, Wayne said "Okay. Call 911. But don't get off the phone with me." At which point, with my teeth clenched I said "I.only.have.one.phone. I need to HANG UP so I can CALL 9.1.1." I threw the phone back to my sweetheart and said "Call 911." He held the phone in his hand and looked at me blankely. "9.1.1. CALL.IT." I ordered as I clutched the back of the couch and slowly moved around to lay on it.

I wasn't even sure where to lay. The couch? Should I get my feet up? Was this going to be messy? Maybe the tub would be better. I could hear that we had 911 dispatch on the phone. I remember my Spouse asking if he should get towels, and an affirmative answer.

As he left the room to go get the towels and I lay there on the couch, it began to truly dawn on me. I wasn't going to make it to Presbyterian Hospital. I wasn't going to give birth in a big suite with nurses and a warming bed. I was going to give birth right here. On my couch. And it was all so "Evening News" that I laughed out loud. But at least the paramedics would be there. Maybe they liked delivering babies. I'll bet they didn't get that many chances to do it. I clenched my eyes and muttered the most fervent prayer of my life: "Oh, Heavenly Father, it's You and me now. Stay with me." That was all I could think to pray.

The Spouse came back into the room and I could here him giving dispatch our information. Again. At this point, I was simply riding each contraction like a wave. I could feel the rise and fall. And I knew that the paramedics better hurry up a bit so, in between contractions, I gasped "We need an ambulance!" He relayed that information to the dispatch and then she spoke these words: "Oh, sir, an ambulance is on the way. I'm here to help you deliver this baby."

Day 73: She Came with the Couch

So, the Wee One is almost five months old. I've been reflecting on that this week a lot because one of my sister-in-laws and a really good friend both gave birth to Bouncing Baby Boys on Thursday. This brings up happy remembrances of labor and deliveries past, and a slight smug gladness that I'm not the one about to be grabbed by the ears and spun about by life with a newborn until I'm chucked on to a couch with no energy left for joy. But I digress. Because I have a great birth story, and I want to tell it as I've been reflecting on it.

My youngest daughter, you see, was born on the couch in our living room. And this experience has taught me a few things:
1. When people find out you had a baby on the couch they always ask "Did you plan it?" with a slight tilt of their eyebrow. My response is always "Oh, heavens no!" and then they laugh and we can get on with the joke. Sometimes I wonder what their response would be if I said "Yup! Only way to go!" I have a hunch they'd then shift me to "Flower Child Tree Hugger" status in their minds.
2. Always, always the next question is "Do you still have the couch?" I find this to be a bit puzzling because I wonder, honestly, if other people have some sort of disposable couch, that I don't know about? Should I have chucked it to the curb with the garbage that Thursday? Should I have received a new one, in lieu of the free diaper bag provided at the hospital? (Really, with the refund that should've been coming from my OB, I could've bought a new couch.) So, to answer this question: Yes, we still have the couch.
3. When people ask if we still have the couch, they are implying that said birth on said couch must've been a horribly nasty, bloody affair. Some even ask if there was blood everywhere. Some of the people who ask this have had more children than I have. That's why I have to scratch my head a bit. So, to answer this one: No, my whole living room didn't look like a CSI crime scene. (We did throw away a few towels.)
4. People always want to know if you freaked out, or if your husband freaked out. Honestly? I think he was too busy trying to yell into the speaker phone with the lovely 911 people, get his shoelace off his shoes, pray to all that was holy that our other kids wouldn't wake up, and catch a child to freak out. As for me? I think I was already wondering about that OB refund.
5. Best advice from 911 dispatch: "Don't drop it! It's going to be slippery!"
6. Worst advice from Labor and Delivery triage nurse Wayne: "It's probably gas cramps. Call me back when your water breaks." (Oh--time from water breakage to delivery? 8 minutes.)
7. Apparently, according to 911, when you're about to have a baby you need a shoelace and a safety pin. The shoelace is to tie off the cord. We had no safety pin, so I never got to find out what it was for. I'm still curious.
7. Here's something I'd never known before: those labor and delivery nurses are hoping for a chance to deliver a baby on their own. They were all so bummed that I'd already had her when I got there, because they'd gotten a heads-up from my lovely friend Wayne that things were going along mighty quick. They hoped they'd get to catch her, before the doctor had a chance. Sorry, nurses. Maybe next time.
8. In my mind, that tiny newborn will always be named Bonnie. Because even though we ended up going with a different name, for just a couple hours, she was named Bonnie and everyone thought it was darling.
9. Okay, last one. It's this: home birth isn't just for Flower Child Tree Huggers. I grew up knowing that "Home delivery is for pizza." (A direct quote of my parents.) I have heard many lectures on The Things That Can Go Wrong. I would never have intentionally planned a home birth. But, you know what? I loved it. I loved welcoming my daughter into my husband's and my waiting arms. I loved that she was born into a quiet, dark room with no one rushing in and out. I loved the she was mine, all mine, and no one rushed to take her away for weights or measures or eye drops. I am not, at all, knocking hospital births. I am grateful for good obstetricians who are good at what they do. But would I do it again? Absolutely.

I'm still waiting on that refund.