This little birth story starts at 10:30pm on the evening of June 2nd when I started having regular contractions that went on for three hours, getting closer and closer together as well as more intense. This was it! Just a few more minutes and then I'd get up and get ready to go to the hospital. That was the plan, at least, until I woke up and realized it was the next morning and all signs of labor were gone. Womp woooomp...
Nothing happened the day of the 3rd other than the usual achy joints and muscles and maybe a contraction here or there. Same thing that night and the next morning, which was the day of my routine 39 week appointment. After telling my midwife about the false start, she checked for dilation and found that I was 4 (close to 5) centimeters, and that Silas' head was very very low. So those false labor contractions must not have been for nothing! Since she would only be available to attend the delivery for two more days (before her weekend off), she offered to do a quick membrane sweep to encourage things to continue moving along. I somewhat hesitantly accepted in order to avoid the possibility of a delivery with a doctor I'd never met. But she was confident that it wouldn't be much longer either way, and sure enough, very mild and sporadic contractions started again a couple of hours after the appointment.
I didn't want to get excited too soon after my night of being sure I was in labor when I wasn't. But Thane was pretty certain that Silas wasn't going to linger in the womb much longer so he came home from work and started prepping things for the hospital. When I asked him a couple of hours later if the two of us should take Asher up to the park for a little while, his reply was "woman, you are on your deathbed. You should be ordering your last meal, not taking Asher to the park." I preferred a less urgent frame of mind for the matters at hand, but as usual, his urgency wasn't misplaced.
By 4pm, contractions became regular. By 6pm, Thane was ready to drop Asher off at our neighbor's house and get me to the hospital. I still wasn't convinced that we needed to rush, but I followed his lead, called my midwife, and we pulled into the hospital parking lot by 6:30pm. At this point, I had to occasionally stop and brace myself but I was still walking and in good spirits. By 7pm, I was getting settled into a room, having blood drawn for lab work, and answering all of the questions that I'd already filled out in my per-admission labor and delivery packet (don't you just love that?).
Nothing happened the day of the 3rd other than the usual achy joints and muscles and maybe a contraction here or there. Same thing that night and the next morning, which was the day of my routine 39 week appointment. After telling my midwife about the false start, she checked for dilation and found that I was 4 (close to 5) centimeters, and that Silas' head was very very low. So those false labor contractions must not have been for nothing! Since she would only be available to attend the delivery for two more days (before her weekend off), she offered to do a quick membrane sweep to encourage things to continue moving along. I somewhat hesitantly accepted in order to avoid the possibility of a delivery with a doctor I'd never met. But she was confident that it wouldn't be much longer either way, and sure enough, very mild and sporadic contractions started again a couple of hours after the appointment.
I didn't want to get excited too soon after my night of being sure I was in labor when I wasn't. But Thane was pretty certain that Silas wasn't going to linger in the womb much longer so he came home from work and started prepping things for the hospital. When I asked him a couple of hours later if the two of us should take Asher up to the park for a little while, his reply was "woman, you are on your deathbed. You should be ordering your last meal, not taking Asher to the park." I preferred a less urgent frame of mind for the matters at hand, but as usual, his urgency wasn't misplaced.
By 4pm, contractions became regular. By 6pm, Thane was ready to drop Asher off at our neighbor's house and get me to the hospital. I still wasn't convinced that we needed to rush, but I followed his lead, called my midwife, and we pulled into the hospital parking lot by 6:30pm. At this point, I had to occasionally stop and brace myself but I was still walking and in good spirits. By 7pm, I was getting settled into a room, having blood drawn for lab work, and answering all of the questions that I'd already filled out in my per-admission labor and delivery packet (don't you just love that?).
When my midwife arrived I was 6 centimeters dilated. The frequency of my contractions slowed down and the longer breaks in between were much
appreciated! I laid in the bed while they monitored Silas' movements for
about twenty minutes, and since he was asleep- of all times!- they had
me drink juice to wake him up. That did the trick pretty much
immediately, so then I was free to move about. After a few extremely intense
contractions in the bed, I decided to employ one of the more classy
laboring positions- sitting upright on the toilet. My first midwife
suggested doing this while I was in labor with Asher and it proved to be very helpful with Silas, too, since the contractions got shorter and a little easier to bear through. {See Asher's birth story here}.
Meanwhile, Thane brought me a cup of ice water with the yummy, crunchy ice to munch on between gripping the sink ledge and the side of the tub, praying to Jesus to get me through this and wondering why I ever, ever thought giving birth without an epidural- again!- was a good idea. After what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, I could feel myself starting to do the somewhat involuntary/impossible-to-resist pushing that many of you ladies know all too well. So I had Thane go get the midwife (who'd been out of the room for a while), and I high-tailed it back to the bed.
Meanwhile, Thane brought me a cup of ice water with the yummy, crunchy ice to munch on between gripping the sink ledge and the side of the tub, praying to Jesus to get me through this and wondering why I ever, ever thought giving birth without an epidural- again!- was a good idea. After what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, I could feel myself starting to do the somewhat involuntary/impossible-to-resist pushing that many of you ladies know all too well. So I had Thane go get the midwife (who'd been out of the room for a while), and I high-tailed it back to the bed.
In the midst of this, I remember the beautiful natural
light of the setting sun streaming through the delivery room window. Despite being in the thick of childbirth, God reminded me of His peace and I'm so thankful for that.
My midwife came in quickly and determined that I was definitely ready to push. She had me lay on my back and pull on my thighs through each contraction. This seemed to make them even more painful, but it was affective. After getting splashed when my water broke during the pushing phase of Asher's delivery, Thane stood as far back as he could this time to avoid being a repeat victim. And very smart of him, because not long after I had my second projectile-water-breaking experience (my apologies to the poor midwife and assistants.) And after pushing through three or four contractions for what seemed like ten minutes or so, Silas was born!
He came out just as lively as he normally was in the womb, kicking and squirming and with a good, hearty cry. He was
healthy and vivacious and it was so, so wonderful to see his face for the first time! After a few minutes of taking him in and attempting to wrap my mind around the fact that he was here {it all happened so fast!}, he was able to latch on perfectly and start nursing. Once he had his bath and the rest of the routine checks a little later, I got up and pushed him in his little cart to the recovery room where he and Daddy and I had a wonderful, relaxed first night together. {Thankfully, Asher's first sleepover at his friend's house right down the street was going great too.}
The recovery was a little different this time around. I felt sick and nauseous right after the birth from drinking that juice during labor on an empty stomach and then not eating anything for a couple of hours. So I won't be making that mistake again! I had no need for stitches this time, praise God. But I did have terrible, awful, long, almost-like-contractions cramping every time I nursed for the first week, accompanied by the same extremely painful tenderness from nursing that I had with Asher. But all in all, I'm so thankful for a fast, smooth delivery and for the pure blessing that Silas is!
It was so nice that this labor & delivery experience was a few hours shorter (four compared to seven) and a little less intense than the first time. I think that's what allowed me the mental capacity to not only have sane thoughts during it (ha!) but to pray. To remember Jesus and to thank Him for suffering for me in a way that was much more painful and heinous than this. To do it willingly and sinlessly, and in turn for giving me the strength and grace to endure the little bit of suffering I'm called to in this life for the sake of my own sin. Not to mention for blessing me with yet another perfect little boy at the end of it! So, I praise Jesus and lift His name up! He remains my most faithful Lord and friend.
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." {Psalm 46:1}
The recovery was a little different this time around. I felt sick and nauseous right after the birth from drinking that juice during labor on an empty stomach and then not eating anything for a couple of hours. So I won't be making that mistake again! I had no need for stitches this time, praise God. But I did have terrible, awful, long, almost-like-contractions cramping every time I nursed for the first week, accompanied by the same extremely painful tenderness from nursing that I had with Asher. But all in all, I'm so thankful for a fast, smooth delivery and for the pure blessing that Silas is!
It was so nice that this labor & delivery experience was a few hours shorter (four compared to seven) and a little less intense than the first time. I think that's what allowed me the mental capacity to not only have sane thoughts during it (ha!) but to pray. To remember Jesus and to thank Him for suffering for me in a way that was much more painful and heinous than this. To do it willingly and sinlessly, and in turn for giving me the strength and grace to endure the little bit of suffering I'm called to in this life for the sake of my own sin. Not to mention for blessing me with yet another perfect little boy at the end of it! So, I praise Jesus and lift His name up! He remains my most faithful Lord and friend.
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." {Psalm 46:1}
