It's hard to tell where to begin this birth story, since it seems that Baby Girl's birth was forever in coming. I think I will start the morning of her birth and then go from there. It has been so long since I composed a blog post; my writing has been in the microblog (Facebook posts!) format for so long. We'll see if I can get this done. :)
Sunday, December 27th started a little after midnight when Thomas woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Matt snuggled him for awhile, and they both fell asleep in the rocking chair. I had been having mild contractions but nothing regular and nothing painful, though they were more persistent than previously. I was sleeping basically well for someone 42 weeks pregnant. At some point (around 3am I think), I heard a thud and then a cry. Thomas had have crawled, half fallen out of the rocking chair. I went to the bathroom and then grabbed him to snuggle him to sleep in my bed. He fell asleep pretty easily basically right on my face and next to me. I was able to wake Matt up at some point to help me scootch out from under him. This was around 5am, and I went out to the couch to try for some more sleep. I fell back asleep and started waking up again in the 6:00 hour to my kiddos getting up for the day. Then at about 6:55 I felt it: my first painful contraction. I had been having frequent, mild, irregular contractions all week, and it was such a blessing to feel that pain. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much; I had dealt with kind of a lot of despair and anxiety that this baby might not come on her own. And we were dealing with somewhat of a time crunch as I had reached 42 weeks. Anyway, 30 minutes after the first painful contraction, I felt another one. I decided to text my midwife and let my mom know she probably needed to come get the four littles. It was an interesting sensation to feel so absolutely glad and thankful about the pain I was beginning to feel. I was embracing the heck out of it after days and days of feeling like labor was imminent but then... not. I began having regular contractions, and about every other one or so was painful. Even though it's just the next day, the details are kind of blurry, and the time frame is a little foggy, but I'm fine with that. I'll blog what I remember and maybe add some more details when I get pictures up.
Sallie (my midwife) came over as well as my friend Katie, who was assisting her with the birth. Before that my mom showed up and grabbed the kiddos. I actually went in and woke Thomas up from my bed about 8:20 -- I needed my labor space!
I'm pretty sure I started looking very labor-y; I know I was feeling it. Finally!! I actually texted a good friend that I was pretty sure we had real labor, even though I was still half-expecting things to fizzle out again. Sallie and Katie were laying things out and getting things ready. I was changing positions and visiting the bathroom and trying to get comfortable (ha!). The contractions kept getting stronger and closer together, but unlike my last labor (with pitocin!), I didn't feel completely unable to keep up. (Matt would like to insert here that this didn't go as quickly as it seems. It took a long time.) So, somewhere in the 11:00 hour I started feeling pushy. Sallie could hear it in my voice/moans that I was involuntarily pushing. I think it was a little before noon that I became a whiny, cursing, crying, hot mess. And I'm pretty sure it's because I needed to switch over to pushing mode but I was scared! I remember basically the same feeling from James' birth. The difference here was that I was so supported by my people; they helped me get through the transition so much more successfully. I love them. :)
Matt was very busy putting pressure on my back with every contraction. He is actually pretty sore today from how hard he worked yesterday. When I finally was ready to assume a more formal pushing position, we tried it with Matt behind me supporting me. I liked that, but I was too straight up or bent or whatever that the baby didn't have a clear shot out. I did push her down some and was able to reach down and feel her head. That helped clear some of the mania away. For the last couple of pushes I was laying flat with Matt and Katie helping pull my legs back and me putting my chin to my chest. It was actually a really effective position, and Margaret Edith was born at 12:45pm. Sallie put her right up on my chest and I rubbed and snuggled and kissed her over and over. I delivered the placenta at some point and got Margaret latched to start nursing. She was born ready for that! She wanted to nurse and nurse and nurse, and I let her. I got somewhat cleaned up and propped up for a better position for nursing. Also, I think Joanna (who was there for all this!) wandered in with some food for me. I was hungry!
Margaret had a big ol poo on me, and after we got her cleaned up, Sallie took the opportunity to weigh her. I knew she was pretty big, but I was most surprised to discover she was 10lbs 1oz! That's large!! She was not my hardest birth though. I'd put her right in the middle -- harder than the girls but easier than the boys. That definitely has to do with my awesome labor support and being able to have her at home.
Some misc stats:
gestation: 42 weeks 1 day (ya'll... that's "term" plus FIFTEEN days)
due date: December 12, 2015
birthday: December 27, 2015
weight: 10lbs 1oz
length: 20.75 inches
Side Note: A couple or more weeks ago, Thomas started saying the name Emma out of nowhere. We have a good friend named Emma, but she lives far away, and I don't think he remembers her. We also occasionally watch a program where Emma is a character, but I don't think he usually watches it. He would say it all the time though, asking about her. I have now decided that he knew exactly when his baby sister was going to be born, and this was how he was telling us. Because yesterday was my cousin Emma's birthday. And Thomas hasn't mentioned her since.
Prequel: There were several things happening at the end of this pregnancy that I was preparing for but not certain I'd get to attend or be a part of. One was my big girls' children's choir musical on the 13th. Also, the preschool choir that I direct were singing in church on the 13th. AND the women's choir I sing with was preparing a HUGE Christmas concert for the afternoon of the 13th. I was prepared to watch a video of the girls' musical; I had back-up directors for my cherubs; and I was just enjoying the heck out of rehearsing the amazingly wonderful music with my choir, even knowing I might not get to sing it.
Then the 12th came and went, as did the 13th. I was very happy to be able to sing in the concert; it was sooooo lovely and a wonderful Christmas experience. I kind of expected to go into labor on the 14th. But I didn't. And I didn't on my dad's birthday, the 15th. Then the 16th came and Matt was able to stay home for the rest of the month because we had saved his days, and they weren't rollable into 2016. So it was actually pretty nice to catch up on some chores and errands and rest with Matt there to help. Then I hit 41 weeks. And I was still doing okayish, but I'd basically stopped leaving the house since I just couldn't talk to people anymore. :) At the end of 40 weeks the rest of my family got sick so I was pretty glad I didn't also have a newborn baby to take care of. Then at 41 weeks my midwife and her family got sick so I was happy I wasn't in labor. On the 22nd Sallie came over and checked me, and we all really thought I was beginning to labor, that she would be born that evening or the next day. But she wasn't. My contractions were mild and just fizzled out. My cervix was very dilated and thinned, but nothing else was happening. I had a good day on the 23rd though, I felt festive and happy and pretty eagerly put my house in order for the holiday. Then as I steadily approached Christmas day and 42 weeks I began to worry and be anxious. I was too tired to do anything; I was short with my family. I was wondering if every pang, every mild contraction could be it. I worried what would happen after 42 weeks -- would I have to check into the hospital for an induction I didn't want and couldn't afford? Why wasn't she coming?!! I checked and rechecked my dates -- was I as far along as I thought? (Yes!) I spent much of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (two of my most favorite days of the whole year) crying and miserable. I managed to get to the Christmas Eve service and sneak in to experience it. I also enjoyed getting to watch my children open presents and play with their new toys. I visited with family and got to hold my one month old great-nephew. In fact, if I'd been alone, I probably would have cried a little over that. I so enjoyed those snuggles. I woke up the morning of the 26th and had a good cry about reaching 42 weeks. That's when I pulled out all the math about my pregnancy dates and did a bunch of reading on the web about "past due" babies. I hid in my room and actually had Matt set up a television in there for me to watch. Then as the morning wore on I realized a peace was coming over me. I knew we would need to have the placenta and fluid checked via ultrasound on Monday, but because of the holiday and weekend, there wasn't anything to do before then. Plus, both Baby and I looked/sounded/checked out great at every check up. There weren't any signs to be worried. Then Sallie texted me and offered a massage which I eagerly accepted. I had the massage around 3:30 or 4:00, then an exam and Sallie and I talked about plans for if the pregnancy continued longer. All the while I felt peaceful. I began having regular contractions but they were still mild and I wasn't anxious. I was trying not to think about going into labor; I just wanted to rest and get a good night of sleep. There was still one more day of the weekend, and I had a plan for what to do when the week came.
But then she was born.
