May 1, 2004

A year ago today it was Saturday. Tim was going to a PHP or PCP or some computer language sort of conference in Bloomington. Our baby's due date was April 28, but I would have been happy to be done with pregnancy by April 1 or earlier. The last part of this pregnancy was killer. I'd gained 60 pounds (I was tipping the scale at 197) and I felt like I was balancing a minivan on my pelvis. I was huge and exhausted and my bones felt like they would shatter from all the pressure. How in God's name do we women survive this?

So it was Saturday morning, and I was making phone calls to set up playtime for Maggie and Frank. Tim left early in the morning to go to his conference, and I needed a break from my kids. I'd talked to three people about taking them: David F., Kara and Rebecca. At 10:30 a.m. I was talking to Kara on the phone when my water broke. It was a shock since my water had never broken (?) until I was already to the pushing stage of labor, so I was definitely confused. I had been having painful contractions every 15 minutes for about an hour, and when the water broke these increased and got more frequent.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Frank were plopped in front of the TV, and I was writing notes and making lists for whoever would be taking care of my kids. Maggie took 21 hours to make her appearance after contractions started, and Frank took 14, so I just figured I had some time. Rebecca and Paul showed up with with their kids, and Rebecca talked me into calling the baby-line. I was in a hard place because I didn't feel ready to go to the hospital, but I didn't feel like hanging around the house with my kids either. And then there was Tim. Where the hell was he? My dad showed up to put some meals into our freezer, and offered to go find Tim. I said great, and called the nurseline. The nurse said that since my water'd broke, I needed to come in. Risk of infection, blah blah blah. I didn't feel like going and dealing with the hospital hysteria, but I didn't see a better option, so Rebecca drove me to Abbott Hospital and Paul stayed with the kids. I called my friend and doula Emily, and she said she'd meet me. I also called and left a message for Francesca, who I'd invited to come the hospital for the birth. On the way out the front door around 1:00 p.m., I noticed that the red tulips I'd planted the previous fall where finally popping. May Day!

The contractions were hard, but managable. We got to the hospital, and a nurse directed us to the triage room. The nurse had to verify that the fluid was amniotic, and that I was actually having contractions. See why I didn't look forward to going to the hospital?

I think I was dilated to 3cm, so they got me a room. Rebecca left to go check on kids, and she met up with Tim and took them all to a park. Emily and Francesa (my doulas!) met us and escorted me to my room. The nurse midwife came and checked me and said I was between 3-4 cm. and that it would be a while. I had to have an antibiotic IV because I had strep B bacteria. Again something I wasn't excited about, but I consented. How are people supposed to take these protocol seriously when they change so much from year to year? With Maggie there was no testing for Strep B, and with Frank I requested it and it was negative. Now it just seems like a big ass covering campaign by the healthcare industry as they make sure everyone is tested and hooked up to IVs if they test positive.

So I got the IV around 2:00 p.m., and started to feel the contractions more intensely. I chose not to get pain medication with any of my births because I have bad memories of getting very sick from anesthesia when I had eye surgeries and knee surgery when I was a kid. I wasn't interested in choosing something that might make me violently ill at the same time that I am trying to run the baby birthing marathon. Why risk make things harder when you are trying to do the most intense physical work of your life?

Needless to say, the next 2 hours sucked. I had never been in so much pain in my life. My only "relief" was walking from one end of the hospital room to the other, dragging the damn pole with me as I went. I tried getting into the warm shower, I tried sitting in a rocking chair, but nothing was helpful. Pacing the room was my only salvation. This pain was relentless and mind blowing and seemed much harder than my first 2 births. Considering the fact that my cervix was dilating from 4 cm to 10 cm in less than 2 hours, no wonder my body felt like it was splitting open. It really was!

The hardest contraction came as I was standing in the bathroom over the sink, crying to myself "I don't know if I can do this". I also knew that I had no choice, but I felt so weak! Emily called the midwife, who was with the patient next door who she'd expected to give birth before I would. HA! I would be the victor in this race!

I was on the bed and pushing within minutes. Oh my God did I want that baby OUT of my body! I had never had such a strong desire for something in my life. My muscles felt as powerful and smooth as a chestnut racehorse, launching herself forward to get to the end of her race. I wanted to be finished, and when the baby finally slipped out of my body I simply said, "I'm so glad that she is out!" The time was 4:12 p.m.

5 minutes later I heard Tim and Rebecca and the kids burst through the door of the hospital room. Emily looked at me, and reminded me that yes, I am now the mother of 3! No sweet virginal couple were Tim and I, cooing over a precious first child. We were a growing family, and I had to mother all of them! Insane? Absolutely. And there is nothing about the choices we've made over the past year that I would do differently.