Baby, Baby - I'm taken with the notion...

Just when you thought I'd tapped out the market on hideous ear worms...

When last we were discussing the process, I'd just lost a certain something that begins with M and ends with Plug - around 3 or 4 in the morning of the 19th. That's usually a good indicator of some amount of dilation beginning in the cervix, but a woman can walk around for days or weeks after losing her plug. So I was trying not to get excited. And although I did have some stronger Braxton Hicks' contractions that morning, they didn't seem like anything to write home to mom about.

By the late afternoon of the 19th, I'd changed my tune. These suckers HURT. They were starting in my lower back, wrapping around to the front and radiating down into my thighs. Clearly, something was going on. But I could tell they weren't close enough together - nowadays the hospital doesn't want to see you until your contractions are five minutes apart, last a minute each, and have been at that frequency for 1 hour.

I also knew that someone could go into labor, and then stall or have labor stop, only to have it start up again a day later. So - I was still telling myself that it could be a while.

But I ran around getting everything ready, just in case this WAS it. Sandy got home from work, and I told him I was having contractions. We timed them for a bit - they weren't regular enough to be encouraging. But I had a feeling...so I had Sandy call our dog sitter and ask her to keep her cell phone on her overnight - just in case. Around 9 o'clock he suggested we watch some TV but I was exhausted and a little stressed out about the whole thing, and I decided I just wanted to go to bed.

Here's the thing. I was petrified to give birth to this baby. And for a horribly shallow reason - I was afraid I was giving birth to a very ugly antichrist.

Hear me out.

At our 34 week ultrasound, the ultrasound tech sneakily switched paddles on us, and the next thing Sandy and I knew, we were looking at a 3D ultrasound of what appeared to be a squashed, demonic Chris Farley.

I'm not kidding. I vowed never to show this to a living soul, but in light of Rhys' obvious physical perfection I no longer feel insecure about sharing this photograph with you guys. THIS is what I thought I was giving birth to.

Note the terrifying devil horn.

So yeah - while I was anxious as anything to NOT be pregnant any longer, I can't deny that I was terrified of the damage that devil horn would do on the way out. And also that my baby would be born looking like a deformed John Belushi, and I wouldn't be able to love him. Yes. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to love my demonic obese baby. I admit it.

Anyway, all of those things were going through my mind, and I just couldn't stand to be awake and thinking about it anymore. So I said, "let's go to bed," and we did. But unfortunately sleeping proved impossible. I couldn't lie on either side - the contractions that were wrapping around from my back into my thighs made my hips hurt so badly in the prone position that I scrambled upright immediately, shrieking. I propped myself up on pillows in the seated position, but worried that semi-reclining as I was the baby might roll into a bad (posterior) position for delivery. So then I piled the pillows up in FRONT of myself, in a big stack, folded my arms on top, and rested my head on my arms - so I was leaning forward. It felt more comfortable than anything else, but it was still almost impossible to sleep. I'd nod off like the recalcitrant student in class, and then another contraction would come along and wake me. I was breathing through the contractions very deeply, and on the exhale I'd whisper, "ooooo-open" and try and visualize parts of my body that needed to cooperate doing so.

I timed my contractions for four hours. They were getting much closer together, and lasting a good long time. And they were DEFINITELY getting stronger and more painful.

Meanwhile, my beloved husband was lying next to me in bed, snoring. I considered killing him, (as I had at so very many points in this pregnancy...), But I figured if this WAS labor, better for him to get the sleeping out of the way so at least one of us was well rested for the event. Around 4 a.m. I couldn't take it any more. I got up and went down to the kitchen and started baking scones for the labor and delivery nurses at the hospital. At that point, I knew we were going in - my contractions had been steadily worsening all night.

At five a.m., with baked goods stowed in a basket along with a bunch of chocolate bars from Norway, I called our pet sitter, Amy. I told her I thought we'd be leaving in about a half hour, and asked if she could be at the house by then. She said sure. Then I went upstairs and woke Sandy. "We're going," I said. "I can't take waiting any more." He got out of bed and started packing up the car while I called my OB's office to let them know. I changed my clothes and let the dogs out. The phone rang - it was the hospital checking to see that I was really in labor. I gave them the latest stats from my timing, and they told me they'd see us soon. Amy arrived while we were still packing up the car. She wished us luck and told us not to worry about the bears, and then we were in the car and driving toward the hospital. The sun was just rising. Sandy asked if I wanted to stop on the bridge into Sea Bright and take a picture - but at that moment I was contracting and I declined. I took a photo as we drove instead.

It was a very pretty morning - a perfect day to deliver the antichrist.

Arrived at the hospital around 5:30. The parking garage had just reopened, (at our hospital if you arrive between 12 and 5 you have to go through the ER), and we got an excellent spot right by the doors. Sandy was pleased about that. We walked in, told the guy at the front desk we were headed to L&D, and made our way there. When we walked in, the nurses at the nurses' station all looked at us. They looked tired and cranky. One of them said, "Can we HELP you?" I moved forward so that my belly was visible around the desk, and said, "well. I'm in labor. I think. Also," and I hefted the basket, "I made you breakfast."

The nurses stared. "Of COURSE you're in labor!" one cried, enthusiastically. They crowded around the basket. "They're scones," I said, modestly. "I baked them this morning." "You baked them? While in LABOR?" One of the nurses asked. "Well they're REALLY easy to make," I mumbled, while holding onto the edge of the desk through a contraction. "Let's get you into triage and get some monitors on you," said the nurse who evidently was on shift to take the next customer. I did the usual things one does when one is admitted to a hospital. I peed in a cup. I had my clothes stolen, and was given two hospital gowns to wear. They took my blood. They hooked me up to a heart rate monitor, (for the baby), and the toco, (to measure my contractions). I watched it, fascinated, while another contraction hit me and the little print out showed sudden spikes, one long big spike, and then receding spikes. "Look honey," I said to Sandy, "I made you a pretty mountain range..."

My OB was there. He checked me. "Two centimeters," he announced. Crap. Usually they don't admit you until three or so. He suggested I go walk the hallways to try and intensify things and he'd check me again in a half hour. So Sandy and I went walkies. After a half hour, Dr. G came to find us and brought us back to the triage area to check me again. He said, "well...I'll call it a three. I don't think you'll be any more comfortable at home so let's get you admitted." That process taken care of, we were brought to our room in Labor and Delivery - a HUGE room at the very end of the hallway - because we were using a birthing tub and needed the elbow space for my own little slice of Sea World.

And Sandy went to the car to grab our birthing paraphernalia, snacks, drinks, birthing ball, massage oils, etc etc. I sat in the room and felt bewildered and scared. This was happening. Nothing I could do would stop it. And although it's uncommon, women still die in childbirth - even in this country. Oh god. Oh god. And for some ridiculous reason here I was insisting I was going to do this thing naturally, like I had something to prove. Oh god. And those thoughts explain the expression on my face, below.

By 8 a.m. I was bouncing on my birthing ball, and on the phone with my doula. She'd be along a little later - urged me to drink water, and keep moving.

(Note the lack of cankles. Pregnancy - I defeat you!)

By 9 o'clock, I'd traded my flip flops for a pair of incredibly sexy hospital socks...but the "oh god I'm giving birth to a soul-sucking demon who will eventually bring about Armageddon" expression is pretty much the same.

I may have beat the cankles, but there was no keeping the double-chin away.

By 10 o'clock, the smile was starting to fray a bit. I was sitting on the bed draped over the birthing ball because my back was killing me. My nurse for the morning hooked me up to the monitors to check on the baby and my contractions.

And then, thank all that is holy, my doula Roe arrived. I immediately felt less tense and worried. There was now one person in the room who knew what the heck she was doing, and I was more than happy to turn the birth over to her and take orders.

Yay! Roe!

Feeling much more confident with Roe in the room, the smile came back. She tried to get me to rest a little bit, since I hadn't slept the night before. But that just wasn't happening.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room...

My own private otter sanctuary was being constructed and filled.

And soon I was in it.

It did help, to sit in the hot water and try and relax a bit. Whenever a contraction hit I would have to bolt up onto my hands and knees, though - so about every 3 to 4 minutes I'd suddenly yell "pillow!" and then dive forward, and Sandy would have to grab the pillow to keep it from plopping into the pool with me. At the time, I wasn't able to appreciate the humor of this little ballet, but now it strikes me as unspeakably funny.

It was 1 o'clock, and I wasn't progressing as quickly as any of us would have liked. The midwife from Dr. G's practice who was on duty came and checked me, and I was dilated to about a 5, I think. So since I was already in the bed, Roe said, "why don't you stay there, and I'll give you a foot rub?"

This seemed like a wonderful idea. What I didn't know was that Roe knew all about the pressure points in the bottoms of feet that can stimulate contractions. Evil woman. She gave me a soothing foot rub and then I realized she was just sitting there, holding onto my pinky toes in a disturbingly meaningful way. I looked at her, and then my next contraction hit and it practically ripped me apart.

Holy cow you guys, pressure points are insane.

I should add at this point, that my nurse had left for the day and I'd gotten another one - this one younger and considerably more hip. I gave her my birth plan. Exactly as I had originally written it. I had meant to rewrite it as Roe suggested but never got around to it. I told the nurse, "I process stress through humor so...anyway - enjoy." She took it out to the nurses' station. She came back 10 minutes later. "That was the funniest thing I've ever read," she said. Then she added, "by the way, all the other nurses want to meet you - they may be popping in to say hello."

Sure enough, soon I had a procession of nurses coming by to tell me that in 25 years of nursing, they'd never read a better birth plan...or that they were thinking of blacking out my name and handing it out to every pregnant woman to come into L&D, telling them "THIS is how you should be thinking!"

Two o'clock. I'm pretty sure Roe had me squatting on the toilet during this photo. She sent me in there and said, "why don't you labor on the toilet for a bit - it's a supported squat and it will help speed your contractions. Spread your cheeks before you sit down, it'll help things relax."

Birth. Not for the squeamish or missish.

We did a bunch of walking, up and down a hallway. Lots of high-stepping walking, where I lifted my legs up and to the sides as high as I could, and squatting during contractions, and leaning forward so Roe or Sandy could push on my lower back, which helped a bit during the peak. Then back to the room, and back into the tub.

Please excuse the graphic nature of this next photo. At some point, I looked down into the tub, and recoiled in horror. "OH MY GOD! WHAT IS THAT?!" I said. Roe looked. "That's you, dear," she said. Meaning that it was a clot or similar that I had passed, and it was perfectly normal. But you guys, it wasn't. It wasn't perfectly normal. I stared at it.

"It...it looks just like a baby attached to a placenta by an umbilical cord!" I said, totally freaking out. Sandy popped up to take a picture, (why?! So I could share it with you guys, that's why), and Roe rolled her eyes and went to get her little fishy-straining net, to remove it.

Tell me I'm wrong you guys. Tell me I'm wrong.

You'd have freaked out too.

Around 3:30, shit got real.

Shamu is unhappy in her exhibit...

(perhaps she needs enrichment toys)

And you can tell that things intensified very quickly after that point, because that's the last picture Sandy took. Ho ho hoooooly transition. What can I say about transition? I would have done anything, given ANYTHING, to not be in my body any longer. When a contraction hit I practically climbed the side of my tank trying to find some way to get away from my body. Sandy lovingly leaned down to say, "do whatever makes it feel better, sweetheart" and I, on my hands and knees in a tub of water, and convinced I was dying, replied, "NOTHING makes it feel better, you FUCK HEAD."

I heard my nurse, over by the bed, quickly suppress a bray of laughter.

Nothing brings a couple together, and closer, than the miracle of birth you guys. Romance.

Transition lasted for a while. Roe had me get out of the tub and go sit on the toilet again, where I proceeded to give birth to the most horrifying bowel movement of my 31 year experience. Evidently as the baby moves down the birth canal the head scrapes along anything in its path. So he was pushing this BM ahead of him. It was indescribably awful. I was SCREAMING. I was convinced, in fact, that I was giving birth to the baby. When I realized that I was actually just delivering a poop, I started losing it. Sandy said, "you can do this! you can do this!" and I said, "I CAN'T do this. I just went through all that to give birth to a CRAP!" Again. Romance.

And then I started to feel the urge to push. They set me up with the squat bar on the bed so I could be upright, and I tried my hand at pushing for the first time - and immediately broke my water. That was exciting. One minute - fledgling pushing - next minute, giant puddle around ankles. No one else could see that it had happened though, because I had a sheet over my hips and thighs because I was cold. (Still damp from being in tub). So when it happened I must have looked totally shocked, and then I said, "Um. You guys, I think my water just broke..." and they were all, "oh good...good..." and I said, "Yeah. Uh - aren't we supposed to check it for meconium?" Roe moved the sheet aside, and we all looked at the water around my feet. Clear. Good news.

The midwife who had been pinch-hitting for Dr. G all day came in to say goodbye to me as she was going off duty, and found me pushing. A quick pelvic exam and she realized if Dr. G didn't hurry up he was going to miss this birth - so she opted to stay on just in case. I had progressed a lot faster than anyone had expected me to.

(Dr. G later told me that he hadn't wanted to say anything but Rhys had still been at zero station the last time they checked my cervix, and he figured we had a good long time of labor ahead of us, and three hours of pushing, easy. But Rhys had other plans...)

They had me breathe through a bunch of contractions to try and buy Dr. G time, but I had had enough of that after a bit and said I needed to push. The midwife set up the foot stirrups to give me traction. Then I looked up and said, "I don't know what to do..." and she said, "I'll show you what to do. Take my hands." I took them. She said, "the next time you feel a contraction, you're going to take a deep breath in, you're going to tuck your chin into your chest, you're going to HOLD your breath, and you're going to do the world's biggest ab crunch. Pull on my hands..."

I did what she said, though I kept forgetting to tuck my chin into my chest and they had to remind me. I did a push or two that way, but it didn't feel like anything much was happening. Then someone female, (not sure who - might have been the midwife, might have been Roe, might have been the nurse), said: "come on Vanessa. I know you can spread your legs wider than that..." Which in retrospect is maybe not the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. But it was true. For what else had I being doing yoga for the past nine months, and sitting for large stretches of time in the Tailor pose? I spread 'em as wide as I possibly could, and suddenly I felt Rhys just shoot downward. The group of people gathered around my pelvis cheered. "LIKE THAT! Exactly like that! Keep it up!" But as the contraction eased I could feel him sliding back. I tried to hold him in place, and they told me to relax and let go. "But he's moving back up! I don't want him to move back up!" I yelled. "He's not moving as far as you think he is. It's okay. Relax. Wait for the next one."

Things went on like that for about 6 pushes. Then he was crowning, which is a whole other order of unpleasantness...it burns, y'all, and you're lying there thinking he's never going to make it out, that he's going to get stuck there, and in spite of all your vows to the contrary, you will do anything, including begging for an episiotomy, in order to get him out into the world where he belongs. But as it happened it wasn't necessary. Dr. G suddenly started barking orders. "Vanessa when I say push I want you to push as hard as you can. When I say stop, I want you to stop pushing, and when I say half strength I want you to only push half as hard as you can." I tried to internalize this through all the pain. The next contraction came, and I pushed. The nurse was yelling, "add to it! add to it!" and Sandy came back up to my shoulder with tears in his eyes, "he's almost here. You're doing it. You can do it." And one more push and I could feel his head clear. The rest of his body followed very very easily. If the head is painful, the body is not - it feels like...um...the physical approximation of "flblblbflblblfblblbflblbflblflb..."

And then you have a baby. They put him on your tummy to dry him off, and you're shaking and in shock and staring down at this creature that you absolutely cannot believe you created.

And if you're me, you have a double chin while you're doing that.

Dr. G was collecting the cord blood from the umbilical cord so we could have it stored in case Rhys, Sandy or I ever need stem cells. He also, unfortunately, hauled my placenta out instead of letting it come down on its own. That hurt. But we were donating that to science so he needed it for the collection kit.

Then he had to stitch me. I'd torn a little bit. He said, "it's just a first-degree tear. I'll put a stitch in." He did so. Then he said, "it only needed one stitch but I looped it a few times." I thought to myself, "doesn't that mean it needed more than one stitch?" but I decided ignorance was bliss and I really didn't want to know if I had a more serious tear than he was telling me.

He also said, "you have a very superficial tear up top here, but it's hardly anything, I'm not going to stitch it it will heal just fine on its own." And I, completely loopy with everything I'd just been through, said, "oh sure. I've probably done worse to myself shaving."

I shouldn't be allowed out in public, you guys.

The nurse took Rhys off to the side to evaluate him - he scored a 9/9 on his Apgar.

And after a time spent together in the room staring in total shock, a nurse arrived to wheelchair Rhys and I up to the nursery, and then to our new room in post-partum. As she wheeled me by the nurses' station, the nurses spotted me coming. Even the ones I hadn't met knew who I was. And you guys...one of them yelled, "I loved your birth plan!" and then...they stood up and applauded. I got a standing ovation from the nurses.

**Update: When Roe came to the house to show us the slideshow she'd made of the pictures she'd taken during the birth, and to check on Rhys and Sandy and I, I asked her about the standing ovation. Because I thought, you know, maybe they applaud every new mom, (which would be so nice, right?) Or maybe they applaud everyone who rocks a natural birth. But Roe stared at me incredulously and then said, "No." Evidently the nurses don't applaud everyone. I'm special, you guys.**

And that is how we wound up with Rhys.

And thank god...he was WAY cuter than his ultrasound had led us to believe. Also - there were no devil horns to be seen.

Possibly, but probably not, the Antichrist

But a very very CUTE Antichrist, anyway.

By the time we reached the post-partum floor, all the nurses THERE had read my birth plan, also. Even the ones in the nursery. The nursery nurse who evaluated Rhys and measured him etc told me they'd already shown it to their floor supervisor. I couldn't figure out how it had traveled through the hospital so quickly. L&D is on the third floor. The nursery and Post Partum is on the 5th!! It was a great mystery. In point of fact, for the duration of my stay in the hospital, every service provider that I interacted with mentioned it. Including the pediatricians who came to inspect the babies each morning. I couldn't figure out how they were all seeing it! Then someone finally told me, the nurses had stapled it to my chart with the words, "BEST BIRTH PLAN EVER!" written across the top.

And I could tell you about recovery and two days of sleeping on a horrible hospital bed while someone came in every hour to either take my blood pressure or steal my blood or peek at the baby etc - but as it happens, Rhys is screaming bloody murder and I should probably go take care of that.

It's been real...