e's birth - part two

september 2, 2011 - 8:00 AM

the midwife is in and out of the bathroom, where i've offiicially settled into the bath. she's checking the baby's heartbeat with her doppler and asking if she can check how dilated i am - 2 out of 3 times, i don't even answer. i just resume my position on all fours and let the contractions overcome me. she resumes her position of knitting quietly and respectfully on the terrace. she's letting us do our thing - yann is patiently sitting by the bath. what i don't realize is that he's in and out, too. making pot of coffee after pot of coffee and smoking just about a quazillion cigarettes. he even manages to brush his teeth after each one, about a meter away from me, without my even realizing it. i'm in the zone. i don't mind being alone at this point - i know my support system is there.  i can feel them. (also yann mentions afterward that at one point i started fixing my hair, putting bobby pins "back in place" and so he kind of took the cue that i was ok...) the only thing that snaps me out of it, is when he tells me his ass hurts from sitting on the side of the bath tub. i say nothing but in the back of my mind i'm thinking, "excuse me?! your ass hurts?!!" but i just go right back to the contractions. they're pretty close together and quite intense but i take them one at a time. no need to rush things, my body is doing exactly what it needs to be doing.

somewhere between 8:55 AM and 9:25 AM i've reached 10 cm but those numbers mean nothing to me anymore. i've been pushing since 9:00 AM and i didn't need anyone to tell me to do so... or count to 10 and tell me to stop pushing. i didn't feel the need to reach the infamous 10 cm to start pushing. i push when my body tells me so. i push when my baby needs me to. i push because it's the only thing that feels good at this point. it's the only thing that's relieving me of the pain from the contractions. i can feel my baby getting closer and closer, i can feel the top of the head starting to show. it's 9:45 AM. the midwife has gotten a small stool and she's sitting at the far end of the tub. her assistant, whom i remember very calmly greeting stark naked in the halfway an hour so before, is standing in the doorway and taking notes. she asks if she can check the baby's heartbeat. i don't even move, in fact i barely let myself hear her. i don't want to be touched. i don't want to be bothered.

i can't find a proper position anymore. i'm squatting. i'm on all fours. i'm on my knees. i can't seem to find a good grip and it's like i want to push harder than my body is allowing me to. in between urges to push, i sit back down. i'm beginning to become exhausted and i'm not seeing the end of the tunnel. i know the baby's right there but given that time no longer means anything to me, it feels like the baby's been right there for an entire day.  the midwife checks the baby's heartbeat - 120 beats per minute. i'm back on all fours and i push with all my might. i push knowing it'll bring my baby in my arms. she checks the baby's heartbeat again - 80 beats per minute. i can tell by the look on her face and the tone in her voice, she's worried. she does one more reading. at 10:05 AM, the normally very calm, soft-spoken midwife suddenly roughens up and with so much assurance she could of convinced me to eat soap, she tells me, "you need to get out of the bath. now." she rushes into the room to prepare everything - she takes out the oxygen tank, lays down the disposable medical pads on the bed, sets her dopppler on the side of the bed - while i try with all my might to get up and out of the tub. yann tries to help me in vain but my knees buckle under me. i just don't have the strength to move. he repeats those damned instructions, softly in my ear, "chérie, tu dois sortir du bain." and all i can do is look up and give him a look that ressembles an abandonned puppy dog. he takes my hand, pulls me up and reassures me that it's for the best and that in about 7 steps, i'll be in our bed.

it's now 10:14 AM. the midwife quickly explains that the baby's done its fair share, its been engaged for quite some time now (too long, but she doesn't say that) and that i need to give it my all. she tells me that even though this is exactly the opposite of what i wanted, i need to lay down on my back, put my legs up and push. what she doesn't tell us is that the last heart monitor reading she did came up empty. the baby's heartbeat can no longer be heard. she remains calm and keeps giving directions. she instructs yann to take my legs and pull them over my head, putting some pressure on my stomach - think an empty tube of toothpaste that you're trying to squeeze out the last few drops. she reassuringly tells me, "you need to push with everything you've got and don't stop." yann's holding my legs, the assistant is frantically taking notes and trying to take one more reading of the baby's heart while the midwife is gently but firmly helping the baby's head crown. 60 hearts beat per minute. i can feel it. the ring of fire. the baby's head had crowned. she encourages me to push again. it's 10:20 AM and i give up for the second time. i tell them to leave me alone. that i can't do this. the assitant manages to sneak in another heart reading - empty. the midwife instructs yann to pick up my legs again and tells me that i can. that i need to. for my baby. i just lay there. inert. exhausted.

at, 10:22 AM the monitor shows we're back at 60 heart beats per minute. the baby is alive and well, but also very exhausted. 10:24 AM i hear the midwife use a word i'm unfamiliar with: episiotomy. i feel like things are going too fast for my control. a few seconds later, i hear a word i am familiar with: scissors. i realize that they are about to cut me, in order to ease the baby out. something else i don't want. i'm not a believer but some power from above - or was it my baby or the hormones doing their thing? -  give me the strength i need, the strength i thought i no longer thought i had in me, to do what needs to be done. up my legs go, and i just start pushing like my life depends on it - little did i know, my baby's life did depend on it. i push. and push. and push. i barely stop to take my breath. all i know is the assistant now has the scissors in her hands and if i stop pushing long enough, she'll cut. i hear her tell yann, "talk to your baby, tell it to come and meet its parents". i almost burst out laughing. my eyes are closed but i can just imagine yann's dumbfounded face. that's the release i needed. one more push at 10:26 AM and the head is out. sweet deliverance. i take a breather and i know the best is yet to come. one more push and i can finally hold my baby in my arms. i can feel general relief in the room. the midwife tells me to ease the baby out, that its just right there. i push slowly but with intent and out the baby comes... from the midwife's hands to yann's.

september 2, 2011 - 10:28 AM

i've officially become a mother. there it is: my baby. barely any vernix, pink, coneheaded, breathing and as beautiful as they come. perfection, if i can say so myself. i feel like i'm in another world, high as a kite. yann gently places the baby on my abdomen - how fitting to have it lay on its home; to see my empty stomach and the product for those 9 months and 8 days laying on top of it. the midwife notes the time. yann cries. i just take it all in. one moment, one second at a time. i wish i could stretch out the time but the best i can do is observe the scene and soak in every little instant. i think to myself: this is my baby. our baby. i can't really see its face and yet i already know i love it more than life itself. that it is my life. an extension of our love. in that instant it all makes sense. every single moment has had its purpose: the nausea, the back aches, the incessant need to pee, the blocked sciatic nerve, the kicks in the ribs, the tingling, numbing sensation in my fingers, the white dots, the contractions, the pain - it was all part of my journey. each event had its role to play in my preparation for this moment. somewhere between the love i feel for this child and the hormones kicking in, i suddenly forget the 8 hours of pain i just went through. it's all behind me, yet it'll follow me forever. it was all worth it. i look into yann's eyes, and we kiss the longest, most meaningful kiss we've ever shared. everything that means anything to me in this world, in that instant, lays in this bed. the bed where we shared our first kiss. the bed where we first cuddled. the bed where we conceived this child. again, how fitting...

10 minutes have passed - or is it 10 seconds? - and i realize: we still don't know what it is. 9 months and 8 days of wondering. of betting. of arguing. we were so eager to know who was right and frankly, when i finally ask yann to tell me what it is, i don't even care anymore and i can barely remember which sex i was rooting for. "je sais pas" he answers, bends over and keeps crying and hugging us. we just lay there for another 5 minutes - or is it 5 seconds? - and i try bring the baby up higher so i can take a gander myelf. curiosity is getting the best of me, even though, no matter what it is, we already know its name... funny thing is, the umbilical cord is too short. i can't bring the baby any higher. i turn to yann for the second time, ask him to confirm what my heart already knows: it is a she. the most beautiful baby girl i've ever laid my little eyes on. almost 20 minutes have passed, the blood has stopped pumping through the cord and we are finally seperated from each other.  yann picks up the odd looking scissors (gosh, i hope that's not what they were planning on cutting me with?!) and tries in vain to cut the cord. much harder than he had anticipated. everyone kind of laughs and he shyly looks over at the midwife. she explains that he'll have to do better than that... with a shaky hand, more strength and a little help from her father, élie geo david becomes her own person at exactly 10:43 AM.


i'm so excited and nervous to finally meet her face to face. we just lay there together. skin against skin, with yann laying next to us. i appreciate the moment of tenderness we get to share. my instinct is to put her to my breast and try to feed her. i'm so into it, i barely hear the midwife tell me i need to push out the placenta... when the phrase sinks in, all i can mutter is, "will this hurt? cause i don't think i have any more energy left in me..." she assures me that on the contrary, it might actually feel nice. and she was right. the warm, gush of placenta comes out with one push and it just feels so wonderful. at 10:48 AM, i am once again alone in my body. it feels a little lonely but i know that as long as i have her by my side, i'm complete.

e's birth - part one

september 1, 2011 - 1:00 PM

8 days have passed since my "due date". and let me tell you, what a load of baloney that useless piece of information has been. i've waited patiently 9 months and like that isn't enough, i have to keep on waiting. up yours, due date. i swear to never believe a "due date" ever again. it's mid afternoon, yann is off to work, tattooing a buddy from the neighbourhood. he's taken on extra appointments here and there given that this baby ain't ready to meet us yet.  i decide to kick back, relax, take a hot bath and read a little - mind you, it's like 35 degrees outside so i have no clue why a hot bath seemed like a good idea at the time - i guess i thought i could hotbox the baby out.  i don't know but either way, it was a bad idea. i start reading and immediately realize i can't see anything. i can't even read a line without rubbing my eyes. all i see is just little white dots everywhere, like my eyes are tingling. i decide to get out of the sauna i've created asap and lay down. given that the nearest person i can warn is yann (the shop is literally situated 350 m from home) i figure the best thing to do is atleast let him know i'm not feeling well... just in case. as i'm slipping into our bed still dripping wet, i grab my hamburger phone (any juno fans in the house?!) and i call my soon-to-be-partner-in-diaper-rage. as per the movie, the hamburger phone is letting me down connection wise - yann can only hear muffled noises and i cut off morsels of phrases. i hang up, lay down to let the white spots disappear and decide that i would just call him back later - for all i know, this is what the beginning of labour is like...

the next thing i know, in comes a sweaty yann running through the door. panting, he asks me if the baby is coming. surely he must be mocking me - but, nonetheless, i appreciate the sweetness in his gesture. just like juno, i tell him, "sorry, i was on the hamburger phone..." (for those of you who don't own one, it's a nice novelty piece but let's just say that i wouldn't count on it saving me in a life and death 911 situation) "...you can go back to work, everything is ok. i'll be fine." to which he retorts, with a hint of frustration in his voice, "i can't go back to work, i just sent my client home - after having thrown the machine down, telling my colleague to wrap him up while half way out the door." not that i needed more reasons, but this is why i love him so much. anyways, i'm not going to start swooning again... back to business. so, yann's home, i'm feeling much better and i'm out of the hot tub. i get up to get dressed and feel warm liquid trickling down my legs. mind you, at this point, i'm tired, physically and mentally and my first - and only - thought is, "good job, asshole. you just peed yourself." i had always been told that when my water broke, it would feel like niagra falls and that i'd know for sure that's what it was. so, i wash up, put on a pair of panties with a liner and go into the kitchen where yann is fixing lunch. he informs me that he's got a friend coming in from france that night so we might have people over. frankly, we could have a party for all i care - obviously this baby is never coming out so i might as well resume back to my "normal" life.

it's about 4 PM and we decide - dog, belly and panty liner in tow - to make our way to the st-ambroise terrace, just a few blocks from home, for an afternoon with friends and our french visitor - they have beer and i settle on a hot dog with nachos and a ginger ale. that's right. i'm going hog wild, baby! we spend the entire afternoon there, it's so nice outside and i'm feeling perfectly fine and frankly, quite normal - minus the extra 40 some odd pound basketball i'm lugging around. even yann has a few beers - for the second time in the past 9 months and 8 days, he caves and renounces to the vow he made me to not drink at all during the pregnancy. honestly, i didn't care - i'm thinking, "clearly i'm never giving birth so get drunk for the both of us!"  anyway, nightfall comes and we decide to move the booming partay to our place. it's late enough that i'm hungry again (not that i needed an excuse) and my drinking buddies have yet to have supper - classic move when we have visitors in from france: we decide to order pizza and poutine. the concept of calling and having food delivered straight to the door seems to amaze them every single time and well, you can't come to quebec and not try poutine. i mean, come on! so, by the time the doorbell rings, it's 11:30 PM. we chow down the food like our lives depend on it, chat some more and around 12:30 AM we send our tipsy friends home - with a promise to go hiking up mont royal the next day with our little tourist. partly to show him, partly to coax the baby out.

little did we know - we'd never make it to mont royal the next day.

september 2, 2011 - 2:00 AM

it was like a scene straight out of a movie. clutching my belly with two hands, i shot up straight like a bullet. it felt like i was digesting just about the worst spicy food there is out there. i figured there was no way i was going to wake up yann for a weary bowel movement so i get up and haul my gigantic, wobbling self to the bathroom and sit there for a whole 30 minutes cursing my decision to eat that poutine and slice of pizza only a few hours earlier. i sat and sat... and pushed and pushed. and nothing. only increasing pain in my lower abdomen. after 30 minutes, i decided to stop and face reality: i wasn't about to take the biggest dump of my life... i was in labour. still half skeptic, i wake up a confused/hung over yann with a gentle, "the baby's coming." now, i don't know if he thought i meant that the baby was at the door, but he jumps up from a laying down position to fully standing and starts spining circles on himself and begins insisting that he needs to shower. sitting on the edge on the bed, going through my first contractions, i tell him that if i can't take a shower, he can't take a shower either - when i think back, what a horrible thing to say but at the time, i could care less if he was dirty and/or groggy. minutes later, i find him on his hands and knees scrubing the bath tub, getting it ready for what was to come... seconds later the shower nazi that i'd become changs her mind and succumbs to the one demand he'll make all through the day. 


with the contractions getting stronger and stronger, i'm finding myself going back and forth from the edge of the bed to the bath tub without really knowing how to properly position myself. i keep thinking of the stages of labour that the midwife had explained to us and it just doesn't seem like i'm in full-on labour. she had mentionned to wait and that it wasn't necessary to call right away - a woman's first birth lasts on average anywhere between 16 to 24 hours with the first phase of latency potentially lasting up to 8 hours - contractions being short and quite distanced. my contractions seem long and are pretty close together - for some reason i didn't put two and two together right away or maybe i didn't want to face the obvious but i was already way passed that point: my labour was going quickly.

i guess i nonetheless felt in control of the situation because for those first hours i manage to get through the pain, knowing each contraction is bringing me that much closer to meeting my baby. at around 3:30 AM i met my poutine for second time in less than 24 hours. at this point, the contractions are quite strong and i find myself a little surprised by the pain. i have just enough time to motion to yann to give me the big plastic tupperware (we found it odd when we saw it on the list of things to have prepared for the home birth... until i needed it.) at 5:25 AM, yann asks me for what seems like the 300th time if i want him to call the midwife - i finally cave, mid-contraction, and say yes. i need her. i need her here. i need her now. i need her like i would need my mother. i no longer know what to do with myself and no longer feel like i can do this on my own. for the first time since 2:00 AM, i think to myself, "i'll never be able to do this" and something inside of me pushes that thought away as soon as it comes through. i know that i can't say it out loud or else i'm just proving everyone right. i know that i can't say it out loud or else i'm taping out before i've reached my goal - unbeknownst to me, i'd be saying it out loud a few hours later.

at 6:15 AM, i've resumed by "edge of the bed" position when the midwife arrives with her sweet, nurturing, calm self. i'm relieved to see her and her presence is like a breath of fresh air but i'm in the zone and just don't have time for politeness. she carefully sits down next to me and begins rubbing my back - a pleasurable, kind gesture but in that moment, the last thing i want is someone touching me. her soft touch feels unsettling. i bluntly get up and go back to my sweet, merciful tub. an hour and a half later, she finally musters up enough courage to ask if she can check me... i'm 7 cm dilated. full effaced. and i've already begun pushing. clearly, she knows, i don't really need her. her presence is enough for me. she calmly slips out on the sunny terrace and begins knitting...





to be continued.