Maggie’s Story
August 4, 2013
Submitted by Jessica Spencer
Originally published on August 10, 2013 at The Average Jess
Informational links added by Born in Bellingham
Born at PeaceHealth St. Joseph’s Medical Center

My very first post on this blog is the story of Lyla’s birth. I wrote it out because I know how quickly memories fade and change and I wanted to remember as much as possible about that amazing, terrifying day. Now, more than two years (and a lot more blog readers — hi everyone) later, it feels a little different writing out something so personal on such a public forum. But, if you know me well you know I tend to overshare. Plus, I want to remember the details about welcoming Maggie to our family, and this is my little space for documenting those memories. So, here it is, the story of Maggie’s arrival — feel free to skip over it if you are squeamish or are here just looking for how to make DIY towel hooks for your bathroom.

Side note: this is my side of the story which, in the midst of it all, isn’t likely as accurate as Joe’s account.

My water broke at around 11:20 pm Saturday August 3, just about 5 minutes after Joe and I had both went to sleep for the night. It woke me up and my “ohmygod, my water just broke” in turn woke Joe up.

We quickly called my mom to come over and started gathering our things. I was feeling contractions but they were bearable enough to walk through. I even had Joe snap this probablymylastbellyshotever photo.

We arrived at the hospital right before midnight — in fact on half of the admittance paperwork, I signed and dated 8/3/13, the other half I dated 8/4/13, as the clocked turned.

By the time we were checked in and were admitted to the delivery room, my contractions began to get more intense. I ended up on hands and knees on the bed, desperately trying to breathe through each one. After that, the contractions came quickly without much rest in between. Too quickly. Too intense. My breathing turned quickly to a mix of sobbing and swearing (sorry nurses, I promise I don’t drop f-bombs every 30 seconds in normal life…except maybe when I’m driving through the Costco parking lot). I could not calm down enough to breathe, despite the best efforts and encouragement of Joe and the sweet nurses. So, in came an oxygen mask for me and a fetal monitor on baby’s scalp — her heart rate was all fluctuating all over the place — later we’d find out that was because the cord was wrapped around her neck.

Long story short, I went from 4 cm to complete in just under 90 minutes. About halfway through I had requested an epidural. (Can I just note the power fear can have on the mind is amazing? Nothing but simple fear convinced me to get the epidural. Not pain, not the doctors, not Joe. Just fear.) In any event, they started the process of putting in the epidural when I was about 8 cm. By the time it took effect, I was 10 cm and ready to push.

But, in the end, even though it wasn’t something I intended to have, I was glad for the pain relief. It allowed me a short break to rest, recharge, and most importantly, take some slow, deep breaths.

And those slow, deep breaths helped bring Margaret Jo Spencer into the world at 3:50 am, after just 8 minutes of pushing, and less than 4 intense hours after we’d arrived at the hospital.

Our 7lb, 4 ounce Maggie, free from the cord that was wrapped all around her, was placed right on my tummy. There she stayed, wrapped in my arms for more than an hour. Surreal.

Welcome to the world, sweet baby sister.

Lyla’s Story
April 16, 2011
Submitted by Jessica Spencer
Originally published on June 23, 2011 at The Average Jess
Informational links added by Born in Bellingham
Born at PeaceHealth St. Joseph’s Medical Center with Dr. Mallory

Editors note: This story contains description of a vacuum assisted delivery.  Please proceed with that knowledge.

Can you say procrastination? I’ve been meaning to write this all out now for almost three months. For a while I was preoccupied with getting it perfect. I was, after all, a journalism major. It needs to be poetic, eloquent, verbose, right? For another while, I was just darn busy learning to be a mama. Now, on the brink of going back to work, I can put it off no longer. So, here it is. Nothing fancy, no big words. Just a quick little story (full of poor grammar – I plead mommy-brain) about the scariest and most exciting day in my life so far.

Friday, April 15, 2011: My water broke at about 5:30 am, just as I was finishing my morning shower. It was just like you see on television – a gush and splash on the shower floor (probably too much information but it’s my blog and I’ll be graphic if I want to). The first words of my mouth: “JOE!!! JOE!!! JOE!!!”(I’m sure that was much appreciated as he was sound asleep).

Rewind to few days earlier: I had a great week at work with most of my time spent prepping for my upcoming maternity leave. Even though I was positive I was going work up to (and I thought well-past) my due date, I completed a spreadsheet Wednesday showing a status and notes related to all the tasks for my upcoming events. Let’s call it work-nesting. I went to my 37-week appointment at Bellingham OB/GYN Wednesday afternoon. After checking me, my doctor forecasted (literally – he said: “I’m the weatherman and I predict…”) that I’d deliver right around my due date of May 5th. That evening I headed to a business dinner at Anthony’s Hearthfire which turned out to be a surprise baby shower thrown by my co-workers.

Thursday was uneventful. Oh, except that it snowed. Hard. In mid-April.

Back to Friday morning: I called the Childbirth Center and they suggested that we start making our way to the hospital. So, I did what anyone in labor would do: got back in the shower to shave my legs. We took our time getting ready, doing some of the things that probably should have been done weeks beforehand: packing an overnight bag, putting the carseat in the car, dusting, vacuuming, washing the dishes, walking the dog (you think I’m kidding but I’m not). I wasn’t having any pain at this point so we took our time getting to the hospital and arrived there around 7:30 am. I was checked and they quickly determined that yes, I was indeed in labor. At this point, I burst into tears. On our drive in, I was in complete denial that this was actually happening. The realization that I was going to give birth sometime that day was a little too much to handle. Since I still wasn’t in any pain, they gave us the option to leave the hospital, with instructions to be back by 1 pm.

We didn’t feel right driving all the way back home, so we headed to Boulevard Park for a stroll on Taylor Dock. Did I mention that it had snowed Thursday? Well, Friday it was warm and sunny. Our walk was brief. I began to feel the contractions and soon got to the point of needing to stop at every bench to take a breather. After a quick stop at The Bagelry to pick up some food (priorities, right?!), we returned to the Childbirth Center around 12:30 pm and were admitted to a room.

We had taken a six-session Hypnobirthing course as I intended to have a natural, drug-free childbirth. We (well, I) had written a simple, straightforward birth plan that requested that we not be offered pain medication. If I wanted it, I would ask…

…it didn’t take me long to ask. (I feel obliged to add a side note that the Hypnobirthing course was completely worthwhile – the relaxation, visualization and breathing techniques we learned were extremely helpful throughout the entire birthing process and helped me remain calm when things did not go as planned.)

Something in me knew that I wasn’t going to make it without the epidural. As I described to Joe as we discussed the epidural versus no-epidural decision, if I knew exactly when my labor would end, I may have been able to handle it. In a marathon, you know you’re going to be in pain but you also know how long the pain will last. Once you hit 26.2 miles you can stop, you can lay down, you can drink a beer. If you could have told me where the finish line was and exactly how long it was going to take to get there, we may have had a deal.

I was a bit of a pincushion for the nurses who apologized up and down about having to stick me so many times. I guess I have some pretty hard-to-find veins. All that heroin during my college years really did a number on me (I kid, I kid). After six pokes, they finally were able to put in my IV.

What a difference the epidural makes. I wonder how many women profess their love to the anesthesiologist. I bet he receives a lot of thank you cards and fancy gift baskets.

Fast forward through a few pain-free hours: I was slowly starting to feel the contractions again, but this time only in my back. The nurse checked me and told us she thought baby was turned posterior, meaning her face was towards my front when it should be towards my back, but she wasn’t sure. My doctor also came in, consulted my chart and began to hint at augmenting my labor with Pitocin. I forgot to mention that I was matched with quite possibly the best labor and delivery nurse on the planet. I think she could see the look on my face when the doctor mentioned Pitocin and from then on we tried every trick in the book to hurry my labor along. I switched positions every half-hour and soon I reached the magic 10 centimeter mark. At some point, the anesthesiologist came back in to increase my epidural. That worked for oh, about 10 minutes. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.
And so the pushing began at about 9 pm. Joe counted, I pushed. Joe counted, I pushed. Joe counted, I pushed. This went on for oh, a long time. Each time the doctor came in he would say: “I think she’ll be here soon…I think you’re going to have a tax-day baby…I think it’ll only be a little bit more now.”

At around 11:30 pm, the doctor’s tune changed. While the baby was not showing any signs of distress, I had been pushing for just under three hours without much progress. My energy level was still okay (thank you running and swimming), however we were all getting concerned since baby girl seemed to be in an awkward position. He said he’d give us a little more time and then would return to discuss our options.
Can you say motivation? Joe and I worked hard over the next 20 minutes to move that baby – him counting, me pushing (at this point, I was quite sure I had burst just about every blood vessel in my face pushing so hard).

We were much closer once the doctor returned, but not close enough. He laid out the options and detailed the pros and cons of each one: forceps, vacuum extraction or cesarean section. After a quick discussion, we agreed to go with his recommendation. He would give the vacuum extraction three tries and if it did not work, I would be rushed to an emergency c-section. (By the way, I really had no clue about what a vacuum extraction involved prior to the doctor’s discussion with us. I’m thankful I didn’t have access to Google while in the delivery room.)

The funny thing is that, in that moment, I would have done anything to make sure baby arrived safely. Quite honestly, if the doctor had told me he needed to chop off my right hand in order to get her out, it I would have agreed. Whatever it would take to make sure she was okay.

The next bit was a bit of a blur. I remember faces, lots of faces, all staring at me with looks of both encouragement and concern. Joe’s face. Dr. Mallory’s face. Dr. Mallory singing “Happy Birthday.” Bright lights. Shiny tools. The baby bassinet corner of the room. Lots of people. People to help with the baby. People to help take me to surgery. The nurse who had been with us all day, changed into plain clothes because her shift had ended, checking in with us before she left.

Tries number one and two with the vacuum did not work. Finally, with try number three, a little tearing and a lot of screaming, Lyla Rose Spencer came into the world. There aren’t words to describe the instant wave of relief that washed over me when it was over.

They quickly took her over to the bassinett for an examination. Her poor little shoulder had been stuck and her left arm below her elbow was unresponsive. She also had quite the gash and swelling on her scalp from the vacuum. They wrapped her up and handed her to Joe who took her over to me so I could hold her for a couple of minutes.

I have to say that I was pretty nonchalant about my pregnancy. I was, of course, happy to be expecting but my thoughts leaned mostly towards feelings of insecurity about my ability to be a good mommy, worry about how my life and relationship with Joe would change, and, of course, anxiety about money. I can only describe the first time I laid eyes on Lyla as love at first sight. I never knew how quickly and how deeply I would fall in love with this tiny little creature.

Lyla was taken to the nursery for observation and to be checked by the on-call pediatrician. Do you know one of the scariest feelings ever? To have given birth with all of the noise, the lights and commotion and then, just one short hour later, to be sitting in silence without a baby in the room with you. Luckily, my family was there. While Joe stayed with Lyla in the nursery, my mom, mother-in-law, and sister sat with me in the room and kept me company.

It was soon determined that she needed to stay in the nursery overnight. So both sets of grandparents-to-be headed home to get some sleep and Beth stayed with me in the room. A couple hours later, her condition improved and she was brought in to room with us and stayed with us for the remainder of our time in the hospital.

They monitored the swelling on Lyla’s scalp and determined that her arm was the result of a condition called Erb’s Palsy (basically due to trauma in childbirth) and it would likely heal on its own (it did).

I cannot say enough good things about the nurses and physicians at the Childbirth Center. Our experience there was wonderful and everyone went above and beyond to make us feel comfortable.

Fast forward to almost three months later: Lyla is a wiggly, smiley, happy little baby. She is the love of my life.

That’s right our family welcomed a sweet baby boy yesterday. Below is his birth story. All images are by the lovely and amazing Anne Lord Photography!

Monday afternoon we went to the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle. I was 41 weeks pregnant, had just been to the chiropractor and had been having contractions off and on all week. Autumn was especially excited to visit the zoo because they had jaguar cubs there. Our friend Anne was with us and my the time we were leaving I was having contractions that I was having to stop walking through.

On the way home we stopped for pizza for everyone, but I was not wanting to eat and had a grape soda instead. By the time we got back home around 8:15PM I was starting to really think this time the labor was really for real this time.

Josiah and Autumn went to bed and I called the midwife around 10 PM to let her know my contractions were between 7 and 10 minutes apart. At 11:45 PM I called her back when my contractions were 3 to 5 minutes apart and after laboring upstairs for a while with Brian, I decided to come downstairs. My contractions were serious and I had to focus through them and felt I needed Brian to be fully present with me for each one. He comforted me a lot and put on music and helped me stay calm and focused when I struggled with the pain or felt worn out.

The midwives arrived separately between 1 and 2 am and around 3:30 AM when contractions had been pretty intense for a while, they suggested breaking my water to move things along. After doing some contractions in the birthing pool and then some on the stool I agreed.

Brian added some new hot water the the pool and I got back in and started having really intense and difficult contractions. As I felt the baby moving down I became intensely aware that he was much bigger than Josiah and Autumn had been! I began to bear down during contractions to ease the pain. As I moved his head down I got really worried that I was not going to be able to push him out, feeling the resistance of him against my body. I started to panic a couple of times and was afraid and Brian reminded me that I was strong and could do it. Many times I didn’t think that I could do it and then a contraction would come and I would push down and feel him moving down each time. Once his head came out I could feel his shoulders were stuck and tried to push them out and felt them not moving. I turned over quickly to my hands and knees and then at my midwife Jesse’s suggestion stood, with Brian’s help and gave a push as his shoulders came free and he was born at 4:27 AM into midwives Ann and Jesse’s hands and as he came out his cord tore and broke. I turned around and took him as Ann clamped his cord and remarked at it being shorter than average. I looked down at first to see if he was a boy or a girl and announced to Brian that he was a boy! Brian’s eyes had been full of tears for several minutes now since I had pushed out his head and I was glad to meet his gaze and rejoice at the birth of another son together.

I held our baby boy in the pool for a couple of minutes, rubbing his head and feeling his soft skin and taking it all in. I thought about how much he resembled Josiah when he was born, except chunkier. The kids were now awake having hear me pushing him out rather loudly and hearing him cry. They were standing across our hallway in their doorway. I handed the baby off to Brian and invited them in while I got up into bed to deliver the placenta and get inspected. Josiah and Autumn were so excited to meet their new brother. Soon I had our brand new baby boy in bed nursing and Josiah and Autumn sitting bedside me smiling and taking it all in.

When the midwife weighed and measured him, baby boy was 8 pounds 15 ounces, 21 and a half inches long and had a head circumference of 38 cm! (Average head circumference is 35 cm!) Brian kissed me and our son and then went upstairs and made me something to eat and drink. After eating and nursing for a while I handed the baby off to Brian while I went to the bathroom and rinsed off my lower half in the shower.

Soon Autumn went back to bed, as did our friend and photographer Anne, and Josiah went upstairs to play quietly as the midwife Ann gave me and the baby one last inspection before leaving us alone for the night. Brian and I then called out parents to tell them we had a son and then went to sleep for a while. I was feeling great after about a 30 minute nap and was too excited to look at my new baby to sleep much more and dozed in and out while laying in bed with Brian and the new baby. Later in the day we decided to give him the first name Silas, which means “third.”

Thanks to everyone who supported us during this birth, especially Anne Lord (www.annelordblog.com) my amazing friend and photographer who interrupted her life in the middle of moving to be here for me and this birth and made my 41st week of pregnancy much funner by being around and just being herself-not to mention for taking spectacular pictures during our birth and being a calm and quiet presence throughout my labor and birth.

Jadon’s Story
August 10, 2012
Submitted by Corrina
Born at PeaceHealth St. Joseph’s Medical Center

On July 7, 2012 at 36 weeks along, I was at the Mount Vernon Walmart with my husband and my parents, doing some shopping. While walking through, I started to gush blood, lots of blood. That was my second pregnancy, but the first to make it to 36 weeks. I didn’t know what to think, except that I need to go to the hospital/birth center.

I went to the Skagit Valley hospital, got admitted at 4 pm, and an hour later I started having strong and painful contractions every 2 minutes lasting 30-60 seconds each! The doctor that was there called my doctor, Dr. Mallory, and asked what he wanted to do, send me home or send me to the birth center at St. Joseph’s Hospital.

They did an ultrasound to see what caused all the bleeding. They couldn’t see anything wrong so they thought it was just a blood vessel that broke when I started dilating. They gave me meds through an IV to stop my contractions. But the contractions didn’t stop, the meds did break  the pattern of every 2 minutes, but I had contractions randomly throughout the day every day up until I gave birth.

Anywho, on July 28, 2012, at 39 weeks, I got patterned contractions again that got longer, closer together, and more painful. We went to the birth center after 5 hours of waiting to see if they would go away.  They checked me and I was only 2 cm dilated so they sent me home and told me to come back in when they were 2-3 minutes apart. The next day the contractions got to 2-3 minutes apart, I went back in only to be sent home again!

On August 4, 2012, I went to the birth center for my scheduled induction. For 26 hours, I had random and painful contractions. After the 26 hours, the on-call doctor came into my room and sent me home and said he would be disappointed in me if I had a c-section. Anyways, I went home again. At this point I’d been having contractions since July 7, for nearly a month. I went to my regular appointment and scheduled another induction for August 10, 2012.

At 5 AM on August 9, 2012, my contractions were back to 4 minutes apart. My husband kept asking later that morning if I needed to go in. I kept saying no because I didn’t want to be sent home again. When I started crying through contractions, he took me in, and they admitted me. At 6:30 AM on August 10, 2012, I got an epidural.

At 7:30 AM, they came in and said my baby’s heart rate dropped, and the on-call doctor broke my water and saw that it was full of meconium. She gave me the choice of laboring for 2 more hours or having a c-section. I chose to have an emergency c-section. When the doctor got my baby out, she said there was internal bleeding from the placenta tearing off the uterine wall, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his forehead, he had swallowed some meconium, he was head down but poorly positioned, and he was too big for me to birth vaginally.

My baby boy Jadon Josiah was born at 8:39 AM on August 10, 2012, weighing 9 lbs 13 oz and was 21.5 inches long.

It is that time of year again. FREE PREGNANCY MASSAGE.

Traci Soriano is teaching the pregnancy massage class at Whatcom Community College’s Massage Practitioner program and we need pregnant mamas to work on. The pregnancy clinic will be on Thursday, 10/10, and the times will be 5:30pm and 7pm. Just email her and let her know how many weeks pregnant you are, if you have any complications or conditions of pregnancy, and what your preferred time would be. There are only 12 spots, so they can fill up very fast.

Email her at wellness@VeritasMassage.com.

Thank you! Traci Soriano, LMP Veritas Massage Studio, Instructor WCC.

Peregrine’s Story
August 10, 2011
Submitted by Rachel Nelson
Originally published on October 2, 2012 at Learning Mothering
Born at the Bellingham Birth Center with midwife Eloisa Carey of Gentle Hands Midwifery and doula Sarah Day

Editors note: This story contains description and words about the mother’s feelings regarding second degree tears sustained during crowning and their repair after baby was born.  Please proceed with that knowledge.

I have this written down in much, much greater detail, so that I can remember every tiny thing. But I’ve been wanting to write the more public, less painfully detailed story for awhile. So here it is. It will be long. I have very few pictures of the event; it was very fast. But I will include what I have.

I had an easy pregnancy overall. Morning sickness (also known as all-day-all-night-from week-three-to-week-fifteen sickness) was unpleasant and gross and miserable, but not unbearable at all. I had a cough for virtually my entire pregnancy, and I fractured a rib during a particularly violent coughing episode. Other than that, though, I had no complications. I was healthy and strong, and taught music and dance up until a few weeks before I gave birth.

I had planned to give birth at Bellingham Birth Center with a midwife. I had been present at the home births of two of my younger sisters, and that was how I had always imagined giving birth. But, in the case of complications, our home was over half an hour away from the hospital, and that made me nervous. So the Birth Center was a nice compromise.

Peregrine was due August 9th, and I felt beautiful and glowing and alive up until a few days before his due date. Then I just started feeling tired and bloated and huge. My feet were so swollen, and it hurt so much to walk, and I felt so out of shape. I walked constantly, though, because I really, really didn’t want to go overdue to the point where I would have to be induced. I felt mentally prepared for any number of birth complications. But if I needed to be medically induced, I felt like it would automatically cancel my plans to have a natural birth. So I walked for miles every day, breathing hard the whole time. Walking also helped keep my mind off waiting. Waiting was slowly driving me crazy.

The morning of Peregrine’s due date, I started noticing a pattern to my contractions. I had been having contractions since 32 weeks, even though I couldn’t feel them. As I neared my due date, though, they began to make themselves known, though they weren’t painful at all, just a barely-perceptible tightening. I got all excited to see a pattern, but then it stopped. So I decided to ignore them and start my daily regimen of eating fresh raspberries and taking multiple walks. (The raspberries had nothing to do with labor. We just had a ton of them, and I liked eating them).

I took a walk with my mom, who came up for the birth. It was a short walk, but it was hard. My contractions became uncomfortable when I was walking, and I had one I couldn’t walk through. We came back home, and ate dinner, and cleaned up, and by about 8 in the evening, I was noticing my contractions were coming pretty consistently at every seven minutes. They still didn’t hurt at all, they were just like small, mild muscle cramps. We put on a movie, and I used the DVD timer to time my contractions. They were still coming at every seven minutes, but if I got up to pee (which I did a lot), I always had one, regardless of when the last one had been.

It was about 11 when the movie ended, and we decided to go to bed. We were fairly certain I was in early labor, but if we learned anything in our birth class, it was this: When in early labor, sleep. So we went to sleep. Or rather, Andrew went to sleep. I tried to go to sleep, but found out it takes about six minutes to get almost there. And then I would have a contraction, and wake up. My contractions were much more bothersome when I was lying down, so I would usually get up and go to the bathroom when they started. I tried all sorts of positions, but I couldn’t sleep, and my contractions were starting to hurt, so I gave up. For awhile, I tried sleeping on my knees on the couch, leaning over the side, but that didn’t work either. I tried not to make any noise, because I didn’t think I was that far along, and I didn’t want to wake anyone up. But finally, my mom couldn’t stand not helping me, so she came out and started rubbing my back.

I was annoyed at not having slept, but when I checked the clock, I found out I’d been laboring for several hours already. By 2:30, I was most definitely in real, painful labor, and my mom woke Andrew up and we called the midwife, Eloisa. She said I should wait to come in until I was sure my contractions were lasting a full minute apiece. She said she thought active labor was just beginning, so I should stay comfortable and take it slow. My mom wasn’t so sure; she thought I was nearing the end (it should be noted here that my mom had extremely fast labors; she delivered me, her first, in two hours, and woke up in transition with my youngest sister and had her 15 minutes later). Either way, we decided to leave for Bellingham. We had already made arrangements with my friend and doula, Sarah, to have me labor at her house if I wanted to be in Bellingham but wasn’t quite ready to go to the birth center.

The car ride wasn’t that bad. It was dark and peaceful, and hardly anyone else was on the road. Whenever I had a contraction, I would press my head into the ceiling of the car (which, oddly, really helped), and hum “What Wondrous Love is This” to myself. I could pretty much count on my contractions lasting the length of a verse of “What Wondrous Love” and it was nice, having something like that to concentrate on. My mom timed my contractions, and they were lasting at least a minute apiece, more often a minute and a half, but we decided just to go to Sarah’s. We arrived, and Sarah was very (very, very) excited to see us, and helped settle me in on the futon, sitting on the edge and leaning forward.

The next few hours were by far the most peaceful and enjoyable of my whole labor. Sarah was there, and my mom, and Andrew, and they were brushing my hair and rubbing my back and putting massage oil on my feet. My contractions were hard and painful, but there was space between them, and I concentrated on enjoying those spaces. I thought I had a long way to go, so I decided to just rest as much as I could. I wanted to sleep really badly, so my mom made a nest out of pillows for me and had me lie on my side, since it wasn’t as painful as my back. Contractions hurt so much worse lying down at all, but I was so, so tired. Oddly enough, that’s the one thing I remember the strongest about being in labor–wanting to sleep with everything in me, and thinking it was so unfair that I hadn’t gotten to sleep at all that night. I had never pulled an all-nighter in my life before. I kept telling myself, just get through this, and then you can sleep as long as you want. This line got me through many late-night study sessions in college, but it didn’t occur to me at the time that when I got through this, I would have a newborn, and would not sleep as long as I wanted possibly ever again. It was a very reassuring thought at the time, though, so I suppose it’s just as well my rational self never kicked in.

Three things were very strange about my labor. The first is that I could always control my contractions. I couldn’t stop them, but I could start them. If I ever got up, or changed positions, I would have one. The second is that the pain was always in my back, never anywhere else. I expected this at first, and expected it to change. But it never did. Peregrine was positioned just fine, but I had back labor all the way through. And the third was that my contractions always began at full intensity. I had always imagined contractions on a sort of curve-graph, where the pain would build and build, and peak, and then subside. But mine just came on very suddenly, at their peak from the very start, and then would taper off at the end.

At about 5, we called my dad and Andrew’s parents, and told them I was officially in labor. Shortly after that, my labor became very, very intense. My contractions started back to back, with no blissful break in between. My legs started shaking, my nausea got much worse, and I was hot, after being very cold through most of my labor. I was so tired, and it hurt so bad. My contractions felt like they were ripping my spine apart. Andrew decided to call the birth center, but I didn’t want to go in and get checked and find out I was only a few centimeters dilated. I could focus through the pain if I just concentrated on the moment I was in. I didn’t want to think I had hours ahead. Andrew talked with Eloisa for awhile, and then asked me if meeting at the birth center in an hour sounded good. I said yes, as long as I’m not in transition. Apparently Eloisa had some misgivings when she heard that I had said that. But I didn’t really think I was in transition, since no one else seemed to.

Looking back, of course I was in transition. But I didn’t feel angry, or scared, or despairing, like I had heard women do during transition. I was just tired. Reflecting on it though, there was a definite change in my emotions. I had stopped feeling gentle and strong and capable. I was ready for labor to be over. I just wanted one of my peaceful breaks-between-contractions again. I didn’t want to make low noises, I wanted to scream. And I told Sarah and my mom that I didn’t think I could do this for much longer. They wisely refrained from telling me I would probably have to. Andrew came by to comfort me and I almost threw up because there was coffee on his breath. He helped me sit up again, and put a little table in front of me with a pillow on it so I could lay my head down, but the pillow smelled bad. Peregrine was so low, it felt like he was breaking my pelvis open. I kept crying, “He’s so low! He’s so low!” And everyone kept telling me that was good, he was moving down like he was supposed to. But I wanted to go to bed and sleep.

And then it came, a sweet, blissful break, and suddenly there was no pain. My first thought was, so that wasn’t transition, which is too bad, because that means transition is worse, and I can’t really imagine worse. My second thought was, I don’t care, I’m not in pain, and it feels absolutely wonderful not to be in pain. I rested for probably five minutes, and then another contraction came, harder than ever. I was groaning and bearing down with the intensity of the contraction, and then it stopped, and it suddenly occurred to me.

I was pushing.

That was an unexpected turn of events.

So I announced to the room, in shock, “I’m pushing! He’s coming out!”

And thereupon there was a flurry of activity. I was a bit preoccupied with my second pushing contraction, so I’m not sure who was doing what, but Eloisa was called again, and plans were made to get all the necessary people to the birth center. I again announced to the room, “What if I’m not ready to push?” They all hastened to reassure me, but I realized they thought I had meant, what if I’m emotionally unready to push, when I was actually wondering if my cervix was fully dilated yet. I wasn’t even worried about this, I just thought I should throw the question out there. I was in a very odd frame of mind.

I didn’t want to move, and I seriously considered calling Eloisa and having her just come to Sarah’s house. But for some reason, I was fixated on the idea of giving birth in the water. I’m not sure exactly why. But the thought of the wonderful warm tub of water kept me going. Eventually Andrew came over to me and said, “You’re pushing the baby out. We’re going to the birth center.” I was glad he was so decisive. I was willing to do what people told me to do, but I didn’t have any energy to waste on making my own decisions.

It wasn’t until I had made it out of the apartment and into the hall that the reality of where I was sunk in. I remember a few things running through my mind at the moment. I felt inordinately sorry for leaving amniotic fluid on Sarah’s futon, and I felt bad for all the neighbors, being so rudely awakened by the sounds of a woman (loudly) giving birth (actually, someone did come out to see if everything was okay; she seemed satisfied with Sarah’s explanation). But mostly, I just thought about the fact that I was at the top of 27 stairs. At the time, I wasn’t sure I would ever make it down them all. I was pushing, actively, and couldn’t think about doing anything else. So Andrew picked me up on one side, and Sarah’s husband picked me up on the other, and they basically dragged me down the stairs. It was kind of awful. Actually, it was really awful.

They put me in Sarah’s car, and I lay in the back with my head in my mom’s lap while Sarah floored the accelerator and drove the few miles to the birth center. I was wholly prepared at that moment to give birth in the car, and the prospect didn’t bother me, or even faze me that much. I wasn’t in control of the situation at all. Things would happen the way they happened, and I was okay with that. I was in a really altered consciousness at the time. I felt almost drugged. My overarching memory of that car ride is of just how beautiful the early-morning was. The light was gray and cool and sleepy and the sun was just beginning to come up. I felt oddly at peace with everything then. At one point I asked where Andrew was, and Sarah said he was right behind us. Actually, she couldn’t see him at all.

We arrived at the birth center and had to wait a few minutes for Eloisa to get there and unlock the door. Finally, she arrived, and Andrew came out with a wheelchair for me. I have rarely ever been so glad to see anything in my life. I was dreading walking again. They got me inside, where Eloisa was filling up the tub. Someone made some comment about there maybe not being enough time to fill it up, and I remember thinking that was the most pointless thing I’d ever heard. I had waited long and hard, and braved 27 stairs, for that water. Who cares if it was filled up all the way or not.

Right before I got in, my water broke for real (though it had been trickling on and off), and another intense pushing contraction came on. I was glad it happened then, so Eloisa could see I had been serious about having the baby right then, and so she wouldn’t feel like I had dragged her out of bed for a false alarm. I got in the water, and she went through the necessary procedures of checking my blood pressure (which was apparently sky-high, due to my almost-crowning baby), and charting what time I had arrived. She tried to check me, to see how far down Peregrine’s head was, but my body would have none of it, and so she gave up.

Peregrine crowned a couple of minutes after I got in the water. I felt it starting, and I felt the pain, and I dreaded what I knew had to happen. I told Eloisa it hurt, and she told me (in her perfect, gentle, monotone voice) to go slow, and be gentle on my body; and I didn’t know how to tell her I had no control at all. I rested for awhile, and then his head came through, and my world exploded in pain.

I don’t know what exactly made that moment so awful, but I do know it is easily the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life, and that nothing in labor compared to it at all. His head crowned, and then just stayed there, and I had no power either to pull back or to push him out. I know it isn’t typical to feel tearing, but I very much did. I felt ripped and split and torn apart, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was the only moment in labor I truly panicked. For all I knew, he would be stuck there, in that terrible burning place, forever, and I would be trapped. I’m not even sure I was fully conscious at the time. I remember Eloisa telling me again to be gentle. I remember her saying his hand was coming out, and I needed to keep going. I remember her saying she was going to check for a cord around his neck, and feeling her hands going in, and thinking, well, it won’t really make a difference, nothing can hurt worse than this hurts now. And I remember my mom saying his head was coming and thinking, well, that’s obvious.

And then all of a sudden it was over and Eloisa had put a baby on my chest. I wasn’t honestly sure how he had gotten there, and I don’t really remember pushing the rest of him out, or the relief you’re supposed to feel at that moment, much less the exhilaration and the forgetting-it-all that I’d heard of. No elation. Just shock. And the sudden realization that I was holding a baby. He was just–there–and I didn’t know him yet, but he was there. I grabbed him instinctively, and my fleeting fear that I was too weak to hold him was soon replaced by the assurance that I might be too weak to do anything else, but come what may, I was going to hold him. I heard his tiny little gurgling cry, and then a stronger cry, and I said, “Don’t cry, baby,” and Eloisa told me crying is good, he should be crying, and I didn’t know how to tell her I was just saying hello to him.

We stayed that way for a long time. Along the way, I pushed out the placenta. I was shocked when it happened, because I had kind of forgotten it was in there. It hurt coming out, furthering my conviction that I had torn, badly. Eventually Peregrine’s cord stopped pulsing, and we cut it, and Andrew got to hold him for the first time.

He made the rounds, and even met some friends of ours who were there for a prenatal appointment. He had his newborn exam, and weighed in at 7 lbs 7 oz, and 20 1/2 inches long. Meanwhile, I waited for the rest of the amniotic sac to decide to emerge, though I had no strength left to push. I felt literally paralyzed from about the waist down. Eventually, it became imperative that Peregrine start nursing, whether or not I had to go to the hospital to finish the placenta removal. But when I stood up, it all came out. By that time, I was glad to be rid of the gross bloody water.

Peregrine latched on like a pro, and nursing him felt completely natural. I had wondered a lot how that moment would feel, but it didn’t really feel like anything. I spent my childhood imitating my mom and pretending to nurse baby dolls and stuffed animals (and pine branches and wood blocks), and I remember thinking it felt like that. No huge surge of hormones, no pain. Just a baby, sucking away.

Eloisa examined me for tears, which I knew I had. I had felt them happen, and I felt them still stinging away. I was right, I had torn up and down, and although the tears were only second-degree, they went deep, deep inside me. It took a long time to stitch me up, and it was kind of a terrible experience. I kept berating myself for thinking it was so bad; after all, I had just pushed out a baby. But there was no getting around the fact that it was awful. For one thing, my muscles weren’t functioning right, so every time one would flinch, there would be a ripple effect in all the surrounding muscles. And for another, I had just pushed out a baby. In a way, it was like scratching a sunburn. It didn’t put the pain into proper perspective, it made it worse. I kept asking Eloisa, hopefully, if she was almost done, and she kept telling me (in her calm, gentle, perfect voice) that she wasn’t actually, there was a lot more to go, and I should just focus on my baby. I appreciated her honestly, if not her message, so I gritted my teeth and focused on my baby for all I was worth. I don’t know the final stitch count, only that one time when Eloisa told me she wasn’t done she mentioned having already put in a dozen stitches.

The rest of the protocol was attended to. I drank blue gatorade and peed successfully, but then I just about fainted on the way back to the bed. Sarah caught me in time and laid me on the bed, and Eloisa told me I should take a nap before I left. So I took a nap, and then Andrew and my mom got Peregrine dressed in tiny little clothes and put him in his carseat. The seatbelt was too big, and we had to pad the empty space with diapers. Then they wheeled me outside and got me into the car, and half an hour later (maybe a bit more, Andrew drove way below the speed limit in light of his precious new cargo), we were home, and I was in bed, with my tiny new creature snuggled up beside me.

It was days before I felt elation. The first few days were blurry and strange; I was sleep deprived and every bone and muscle and nerve in my body throbbed and ached and stung. Everything hurt, and I was still covered in sweat and blood because I couldn’t stand long enough to take a shower. But when those days were over, and I was beginning to get some strength, then I would stare at him in wonder. Some of it was a kind of horrified wonder (How on earth did that giant head fit through me? How?), but most of it was awestruck wonder. I lived it all over in my mind, hardly able to believe the power, the sacredness, the beauty of it all. And then the elation came, and sometimes it floored me with its intensity.

So that’s Peregrine’s story. The beginning of it, at least. He came like a storm and lives like one. It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done, and it was kind of wonderful. A part of me was born, I think, when I gave birth to him. I don’t really understand it all. But if increased pain in childbearing is part of the curse of sin, I think childbearing itself is part of the image of God.

This week, I am excited to feature a post from local Birth Educator Colleen Van Pelt!  Colleen runs Bellingham Beginnings, where she teaches independent, evidence based natural childbirth classes.  She has been teaching in Bellingham for 7 years, and spends the rest of her time wrangling her two daughters!  Today she shares with us what she has learned through her time educating other women in pregnancy and childbirth.

The Grace of Childbirth

The day I became a mother transformed me in many ways. My childbirth experience caused a true metamorphosis, and I emerged a stronger, more confident, more empowered person. I felt a kinship with all the women who had trod the path of childbirth before me, and I wanted to shout my experience to every woman who would follow after me. As I reflected on my birth, I recognized that my preparation and education beforehand played a crucial role in how my birth unfolded. It seemed fairly obvious to me that my role in the childbirth field would best be served in teaching other families how to navigate their own pregnancy and childbirth experiences.

Following my passion, I trained to become a childbirth instructor and threw myself into it, heart and soul. I embarked on my teaching career full of grand ideals and preconceptions of what constituted a “good” birth. I teach natural childbirth classes. Therefore, I started teaching with the mindset that a “good” birth was a “natural” birth, free of medications, interventions, and interference. I believed that I provided my students with all the tools they needed to achieve this outcome. Consequently, when some students opted for medications, inductions, and/or surgical births, I internalized these experiences, and I felt like I had failed them. Yes, I judged their experiences. Looking back, I deeply regret how easily I dismissed them and put a label on their birth.

I am eternally grateful for the many lessons I have learned in my years of teaching. I am grateful to each and every student who has sat in my class and then returned to share their birth story. I learn from every one. Every hospital birth. Every home birth. Every vaginal birth. Every cesarean. Every agonizingly long labor. Every quickfire labor. Each experience expands my knowledge, my compassion, and my grace.

A dear friend introduced me to the word “grace,” and I feel a strong connection with it. A quick peek in the thesaurus and we can find the following synonyms: balance…dignity…agility…beauty. Childbirth encompass all of these elements. A balance between the desires of the laboring mother and the interventions that may be necessary to result in a healthy mother and baby. The dignity that every laboring mother radiates as she works to bring her baby into the world. The agility required when labor deviates from the preferred path. And lastly, but most importantly, the beauty that emanates from every new mother, regardless of how her baby entered the world.

What I have happily learned over the years is that each birth is full of grace. Every parent makes the best decisions for their own family and their own circumstances. I celebrate each baby and I honor every mother. I remain grateful that the years have tempered my zeal with humility, acceptance, and love for all women who travel this path…however their path appears before them.

Xena’s Story
April 12, 2013
Submitted by Anastasiya
Born at PeaceHealth St Josephs Hospital with Dr. Welsh
You can read the story of Anastasiya’s first birth here.

My second pregnancy had no complications. I craved crushed ice cubes, I would eat everyday a lot, and as much as I can. After my pregnancy I found out that its because of my low iron. I was 225 before pregnancy then the morning sickness came and I lost 21 lbs plus some stress. I drank lots of milk, and had bad heartburn.

Xena’s due date was on the 5th of April, but she decided she wasn’t ready for another week. I was dilated at 5 cm but nothing, went to the chidlbirth center twice but got sent home because it wasn’t my water that was leaking.

I did everything to induce the labor and break my water, I jumped on the trampoline, I walked everyday, I ran, I was active but nothing seemed to work. I gave up and decided to have sex to induce labor, so we did even though it was very uncomfortable. I went to bed around 1 am, at this time I was apparently having contractions which I thought were Braxton Hicks because my water didn’t break, and 3 hours later, before my scheduled induction, my water broke! I woke up, I felt a really big cramp, I told my husband to help me get up (I thought I needed to go pee), I ran to the bathroom, what I thought was me peeing was actually my water that broke.

I told my husband that my water broke, and he got up from bed all freaked out, and lost, and rushing things, I was having HARD contractions, one after the other. On the way to the hospital I had to stop on the side of the freeway because I thought I was going to vomit.. We got to the childbirth center at 4:40 am. We were given a room and I changed, I couldn’t sit down, my contractions were coming harder, at this time I was 6 cm dilated. During almost all the contractions, I was standing because it was more comfortable, went to the bathroom, came out, stood some more, then I said that I felt like I am wanting to push. The nurse was gunna check me.

It was now 5 am, she checked and said oh the head is right there! I was 10 cm. My husband kept telling her the whole time that with the first was fast and said it will probably be the same. The nurse got on the phone and tried to get a doctor, one doctor was next door assisting with another birth so we got another one, took 4 min for them to come but it felt like an eternity! Then the pushing began, 1 push, 2 push, “Okay, now try NOT to push, the head is right there, if you push you will tear, let your body push the baby out slowly” said the Doctor. So I tried my hardest not to push, and the head came out, then it was time to push again to get the shoulders out. 3 push, 4 push and OUT came this lovely beautiful baby girl!!

I didn’t tear, labor was 4 hours total from when the contractions started. This labor was so fast, so much more easier than my first, it was unbelievable. Not even 6 hours later, I am up, dressed, makeup on, and as if I haven’t just given birth to my second child! Nothing hurt, except for cramping. After the whole thing was over, my husband surprised me that he recorded everything on the laptop. He did really good this time as well, the only part that was close to fainting for him was when I accidently pulled out my IV out of my arm again. No painkiller nothing, all NATURAL!!!

Xena
5:16am
9lbs 1oz
22.5 inches

Sydney’s Story
July 14, 2010
Submitted by Laura
Born at PeaceHealth St. Joseph’s Hospital with Dr. Cook

It was early in the morning on Tuesday July 13, 2010 and I was getting ready to see my OB. Why oh why had I scheduled all of my last month of pregnancy appointments at 8am?

I was sitting at the end of my bed getting dressed and as I stood up to pull on my pants my underwear felt squishy. I pulled off the undies I had just put on and there was a little wet spot. I’ve never had pee problems during pregnancy so I thought it was weird. I put on new undies and finished dressing for my appointment.

At my appointment, Dr. Cook checked me. I was 50% effaced and dilated to 1 cm. He said I’d likely give birth around my due date, which was 2 weeks away. I told him about the squishy undies and he put the test paper up by my cervix and had me cough. It didn’t indicate amniotic fluid. (However, I was on my back, and in retrospect, every time I leaked, I was either lying down, or bending over.)

I went home and tried to go about my day. By afternoon I was leaking little squirts like crazy, and also, doubting myself. You can tell what it feels like when you’re peeing, even if you aren’t doing it on purpose. There was no way I’d gone from never leaking urine, to a naughty kitty, peeing all over the place.

I had hubby stop on the way home from work and buy me some Depends. I figured with 2 weeks to go, if I was leaking like this, I’d probably never be able to leave the house without them. I called my sister to touch base and told her I didn’t think I was leaking pee, and be aware I might be calling her to come watch our 2 year old when we went to the hospital.

We got to bed late that night. Hubby slept and I tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep. Around 2:30 I got up to pee and could tell there was lots of liquid in my Depends. I got to the bathroom, pulled it down and it looked like cookie dough pieces were in there.

“VERNIX!” I immediately thought, and felt very validated. I KNEW I WASN’T PEEING! (This has since become the theme of my birth story.) I woke up hubby and we called Dr. Cook. He said to come in to St. Joe’s and have them check me.

I called my sister to have her come over. Hubby took a shower. We left for the hospital and arrived right at 4am. They took me to a triage room because they were super full. As soon as I pulled down my soggy Depends, the nurse laughed and said she could tell my water had broken and this time, the test papers indicated amniotic fluid was present. They checked me and I was dilated to 4cm.

After a short wait they got me into a room. Dr. Cook came in all bright eyed and bushy tailed and checked on me. He said he knew I’d been leaking for about 24 hours but they were going to let me labor and see how it went.

So I labored. I sat on my birth ball. I walked around. I leaned on the counter and hubby massaged my back. I had lots and lots of contractions. Hubby and I talked about how much we missed our 2 year old and how we kind of wished she could be there with us.

Eight hours after entering the hospital, I was still at 4 cm. They checked with Dr. Cook and he said he wanted to give me a little more time. 90 minutes later nothing had changed so they gave me the smallest amount of Pitocin. This was about 1:30 pm.

Rather quickly, I started dilating. At the time it seemed slow, but I was exhausted and weary and emotionally drained from no progress, despite “working thru” contractions for hours.

They checked me a while later and I was at 6, then 7.5 and then I asked for pain meds (I was at 9 and should have known that once I want pain meds I’m ready to give birth since that’s exactly how my first birth went). They went and got the anesthesiologist and he came right away. He got my needle in pretty quickly and spent the short time between poking me and me pushing out the baby trying to figure out why the heck it wasn’t really working. Every other contraction was 100% and in between I felt slightly muted relief. He seemed completely shocked that it would work and then not work. (And by the way you still have to pay 100% of his bill even if you only get 20% of the pain relief).

So within minutes of getting this thing in my back I told them I was ready to push. Again, this is exactly how my first birth went. They checked me and my body was right – I was ready to go. They told me not to push and they furiously paged Dr. Cook. I pretended not to push as I gently pushed. Dr. Cook soon arrived and almost immediately the room sprang to life. My uncomfortable mattress of stone transformed into a birth bed and a whole group of people arrived to stare at my genitals while the good Lord and I brought another life into this world.

Everything was so weird. My contractions weren’t coming steadily at all. They’d wait to have me push during a contraction but sometimes they’d be back to back and other times we’d wait a while. I pushed thru 3 or 4 contractions and suddenly there was her head. The next contraction her body came out. She was covered in vernix. They took her over to the table to check her over (she was two weeks early but not stressed during labor at all) and hubby went and took pics while she wailed. After a few minutes I was actually getting angry. She was fine, healthy and screaming and there they are keeping her on the warming bed. I was about ready to go off on them when hubby brings her over to me, all bundled up. She was beautiful and all I could think was how much she looked like her big sister.

Sydney
7-14-10
6 lbs. 2 oz
19.5 “