belated, but beautiful

It's been nearly nineteen months since the event that permanently sealed the raging individuals in this house into a solid family unit. In a moment, we went from being a group that was learning to love and live together to a family, bonded by blood and a mutual goal and concern. That moment was the (beautiful, perfect, magical) birth of the Tyrannosaurus.

I have put off writing his birth story for several reasons. One is a lack of time. Two is not wanting to be "that woman," who seems to be saying something about doctors and hospitals and women who use them. In spite of being some loony, hippy nut-job, I'm not really :)

When I found out I was pregnant, I was a bit shocked. The timing was... awkward at best. But it was okay and the problems could be worked around. I hoped.

As I saw it, there was one problem: I did not want to go back to a hospital unless there was a real need. But I didn't know how pesimst would feel about that. We had never discussed birthing options, as we each had had one child and figured our family was complete. So I was hesitant about bringing up a homebirth. I decided to ease him into it. First I said "midwife," which, since he's not big on doctors, he was cool with. Then I said "not at a hospital." And he was fine. But then he asked me where.

"Wait, WHAT?!" he said. "Like in this house?"

Yeah. That part didn't go too well. But he listened. He did his own reading. It was at our first midwife appointment that he first told me he was not just okay with the idea, but quite in favor of it. Whew. One obstacle down.

The second battle came over hypnobirthing classes. He was fine with them, until he found out he had to go, too. And then our first real fight ensued. He considered it "hippy bullshit." I was so mad, I threw the only thing close at hand: I was sitting in the bathtub, so I flung a handful of water. Yeah. It was that bad.

I screamed at him, finally admitting that I was afraid of labor. Homebirth was not my first perfect option, but there are no birth centers nearby, so it was hospital or home. I wasn't afraid of some catastrophic emergency, as my midwives are all very skilled and there's a hospital minutes away. I was afraid of not being able to handle labor and birth with no out. This was the straw I was grasping to try to avoid the fear and the pain and the fear of the pain that could land me in the hospital. And he was angry at getting wet and at my shouting, but he listened, and he began to understand how important it was. And he agreed to go.

By the end of the first class, he began to see the point. He found that it wasn't not quite as "loopy" as he had feared, and I was very soothed.

Flash forward a few months to April, a week or so before my due date. I was in labor. The surges were coming steadily, about 12 minutes apart. Getting a bit stronger. There was some last-minute catbox scooping by pesimst and some dishwasher filling by me. I picked up the phone and carried it with me to the bathroom, where I curled on the fluffy bathmat and waited to time a few surges.

And they stopped. Completely. Not faded. Just stopped. Drat.

It happened a few days later, with only four or five STRONG surges. And then it stopped.

My edd crawled around. I labored that day, too! For about three hours. And it stopped. Again.

That week, pesimst and I had our last "new baby battle." He called home while driving to work to say he had just thought to ask, if this was a boy, who was going to circumcize him. To which I replied with a snap:

My son? No one.

He had just heard that bunk study saying that circumcision prevented AIDS. So I went online and researched and sent him links and an email stating my opinions and a few more links. He sort of agreed, but mostly he just dropped it.

My 41 week appointment rolled around. I was starting to get nervous. Would they keep me past 42 weeks? My first pregnancy went to nearly 44 weeks. Would I end up in the hospital for having a slow-cooker instead of an oven?

My heart sang when I found out that all my midwives needed was a post-date ultrasound and a non-stress test. It was also suggested that I start pumping. So I bought a new hand pump on the way home and used it that afternoon.

I had twitchy little surges all evening, but nothing "real." My sister called to see if I'd be at a meeting the next morning, and I told her "sure, unless I'm in active labor" hahaha

At 4 the next morning, I woke up in labor. Remember, I'd been there before. Three times. So I didn't get my hopes up. I sent pesimst on to work and rested until the big kids got up. I got Van off to school and settled in to wait. I called my sister, finally, and told her I wouldn't be coming, but not to get her hopes up. She squealed :)

About 10 am, they surges died down a bit, and I curled in the recliner to take a nap. At 11, I woke up, got lunch for DC and myself, and then, minutes after I finished eating, it started up again!

I called the school to tell them DC wouldn't be there, as I couldn't drive, owing to being in labor. Then I called Van's school to have him put on the bus in the afternoon.

pesimst got home a bit before Van, and my surges tapered off again, so I went back to bed to nap. When I woke up, I fixed supper for the others, but didn't feel much like eating. When the kids came to kiss me goodnight (pesimst had kept them out of my hair all evening), I told them they'd probably have a new baby brother or sister before long, and I promised we'd let them know, quickly, which it was. They both actually went to bed and went right to sleep.

Which was good, because things got a bit more intense after that. The baby's head was so low, I couldn't empty my bladder. Not a drop. And I HAD TO GO!!!

I called my midwife to let her know it was getting close, but not there yet. I managed to lift the baby's head enough to "go." And then I tried to get the bed ready.

Moments later, I was curled on the floor, crying, because I could not do this. It hurt, and I was scared, and I COULD NOT DO THIS THING!!!

I called my wonderful CM back and told her to send her assistant, and perhaps to hurry.

The asst, Y, arrived, got me off the toilet and onto a comfortable nest she had made on the bed to check me. Her phone rang, and it was G, the midwife. Y advised her to hurry a bit more...

Y and pesimst got the birthpool filled with Y stopping to soothe me through each surge. I relaxed and calmed, and it didn't hurt. pesimst put in my thunderstorm cd, and I went to sleep, only vaguely aware of waking enough to relax further through each surge.

My labor slowed, but kept moving forward. Before G arrived, I started to feel "pushy," but I kept relaxing, waiting. pesimst curled onto the bed behind me, holding one hand above my head and resting his other hand on my shoulder. We both dozed, although I squeezed his hand after each surge and received his squeeze back to tell me he was there with me. G noticed and commented on how we were truly laboring together.

I dreamed while I was in labor. I dreampt I was in the swamps of Florida, riding a fan-driven swampboat, looking for a flower. Moments before each surge, I would stop the boat to examine a flicker of color, and, when the surge was over, I would sadly conclude that was not my rare flower. But I knew I would find it.

Then, in one moment, I woke up and was ready. Pushing felt GOOD! I breathed down the baby, literally feeling it slide lower, deeper. The surges were powerful. They no longer caused pain, because they were working for me, and I wasn't working against them at all.

I roared. I growled. I shouted down the baby. There was a moment, and only a moment that lasted an eternity and was still gone before I knew it that burned and ripped a scream from my throat. And I knew. I knew it was over, and I knew I HAD made it. The pain disappeared, but, instead of numbness, I felt energy. I reached down to pat the small, damp head. That moment, feeling the scalp and the delicate skull is carved in the nerves of my palm. I will feel the sweetness of that head for the rest of my life.

There was no pain as the baby turned and slipped out.

My arms were already reaching, clutching, desperate to hold this one who had been held so close for so long. I hugged the wet little form to my stomach (very short cord) and turned to scream over my shoulder to pesimst, who was grinning and weeping and reaching to stroke the baby and me, "I DID IT!!!"

Then, when asked what the baby was (by G who could see quite well), I clapped my glasses on my face... and went even more blind: my lenses had fogged from the heat of my face! LOL

So my first discovery of gender happened as a grabbed handful of boy bits. A son! I had another son, this time a baby, and this time, mine all mine.

By the time the kids came in to see the baby, I had been to the bathroom, Y had made the bed, Tyrannosaurus had nursed to full and happy, and I was starting to get sleepy.

Van and DC crawled up with me to touch nose and toes. They each hd their pictures taken with the wee one, and they both had the stuffing hugged out of them by me. DC got past her disappointment of not having a girl as soon as she kissed his peach-fuzzed head. Van was in heaven! And I? I was thrilled. My children were all connected by blood and love, and they were all mine all mine.