warning... long post

So our daughter is now only 4 days old, and has already provided Beth and I with the most unique experiences of our lives. Sometimes it has been hard- I mean, really hard; other times it has been completely natural and easy. There has been excruciating pain, absolute elation, exhaustion, exhilaration, laughter, tears, tedious work, and a whole lot of fun. All in the past 4 days (well actually the past 9 or so). No wonder we’re tired.

I don’t have to go much into the early labor stage because I already wrote about it every couple of hours while it was happening. But I will say that the sheer length of it prepared Beth (and I) for a long, arduous labor. On Monday, after her ultrasound, we went to the birth center for another non-stress test and evaluation. The doulas, Tara and Lisa, met us there and Patty, a nurse, set us up in a room. The NST was picture perfect, but by then Beth’s contractions were not as regular as they had been that morning. This was bad because if she wasn’t having contractions at least somewhat regularly, she wouldn’t have been able to have her bag of waters broken, which we were hoping would bring on labor.

The midwife, Peggy, decided to check Beth anyway and discovered that she was between 4 and 5 centimeters, far enough along to break her water, which she did with what looked like a long, plastic knitting needle. That was at 3:30 on Monday afternoon. That was when the fun really started.

What followed was literally hour after hour after hour of contraction after contraction. They got closer and closer, more and more painful. We developed a ritual for Beth to cope with the pain: Beth and I would stand face to face holding each other’s hands and rocking back and forth. Beth would groan with low tones, which actually helped to open her cervix further. (It sounds hokey, I know, but there actually is a physiological reason for it.) Tara and Lisa offered much encouragement, sometimes a massage, and sometimes information. Actually just them being in the room was incredibly helpful. They made Beth and I both feel sane. Occasionally they even took my place in the ritual we had developed.

Every few hours (!) Peggy would come check Beth to determine her current state of dilation. It seemed like she gained a centimeter every time Peggy came, but again that was only every few hours. So we kept on with our ritual, going out to the garden for a while, coming back in and using the birth ball, and going in the Jacuzzi for an hour or so. This was especially helpful for Beth although she didn’t like the jets on. (Later she remarked, “its weird, I thought I would have wanted the jets.”) Both mine and Beth’s parents arrived at the birth center around 9:00 Monday night and brought some dinner, which by then was much appreciated (by me, not Beth; she didn’t want to eat anymore).

When she finally reached 8 centimeters at about 2am, she went back in the Jacuzzi, where she started having a weird sensation during her contractions. When I say weird, I mean it was bizarre for everyone there. Beth didn’t know what was happening to her- she just felt strange, like she had to use the bathroom. The look of confusion on her face confirmed that she didn’t know it was an urge to push that she was feeling. Lisa went to tell Peggy (the midwife) about this turn of events, but Peggy said it wasn’t quite time, she’s only 8 1/2 centimeters. More waiting, more ritual for another hour.

Peggy came back, checked her and said, “push as much as you like.” And Beth did. She pushed non-stop from 4:00am until Willow was born at 9:45. She pushed during contractions, and in between them (in between it wasn;t so effective, but she coudn;t help it.) She barely stopped to rest. We all tried to support her as much as we could, holding up her arms or her legs, giving her water, putting a cold washcloth on her forehead. But it was all Beth now. I couldn’t believe how much determination and drive she had to birth this baby. It made me tired just to watch, but Beth said she felt little pain at this point, just pressure. This was despite the fact that Beth received no anesthesia to get her through labor.

Beth pushed in every position possible: on her back, on a birth stool, on her hands and knees on the bed. The midwife even had us slow-dance through a few contractions while Beth pushed. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but the baby moved further down the birth canal in those three contractions than the previous two hours of pushing on the bed. Eventually a portion of the head became visible, bearing a small tuft of hair. That tuft of hair became the battle cry for the nurses, midwife, and doulas, who used it to encourage Beth along. “I can see the tuft! It’s getting closer!”

The pushing was endless, at least I thought it would be. But finally at 9:45, Peggy said “that’s it, we’ve got to have this baby. The next contraction is it.” And after a small episiotomy, some coaxing from all present, and some serious pulling from the midwife, Beth pushed one more time and out came Willow. They put here immediately on Beth’s chest, skin to skin, and she cried and cried. They put a hat on her and wiped her with a towel. She had a grey cone head and a yellowy-white body. There was so much confusion. Was this really happening? At some point a placenta was born. I cut the cord, took a picture of the baby. Beth was weeping from joy, from relief, from exhaustion. When I looked around, I realized everyone else was crying too. Tara, Lisa, the nurses, myself. There was so much emotion in the room, it was hard to think.

Then I realized that every single person there carried a portion of the burden of birthing our baby. Of course they were crying. They were completely invested in this birth. They put forward every last thread of energy to make sure that Beth felt supported. One nurse stayed three hours late because she “wanted to see the baby,” see the fruits of her labor. In a way, we all gave birth to Willow. I know Beth bore the physical burden, but even Beth says the physical pain was only a small part of the overall struggle. It was the emotional endurance, the persistence, the determination to finish the marathon that we were all a part of. And in the end we all enjoyed the prize.

The rest of the day was a blur. Parents, nurses coming in and out. Willow was cold so we wrapped her in blankets. I took a nap, but it was more like going off to a strange land. When I returned we ate pizza and had milkshakes- a healthy celebration meal. Beth tried to breastfeed. Eventually the nurse weighed Willow, took footprints, and gave a few shots. A few hours later, she got a bath. We had visitors who brought us dinner and Rita’s. We had some final instructions from the nurse a few hours later. And then we went home