Kathleen arrived around midnight, and let me go through a couple of contractions while she unpacked her equipment. She monitored Milo's heart rate, which was great, and then checked me during a break. I was dilated to 3cms, but still had a little lip and my cervix was still hard, too hard for her to even try to force me open any more. She drew a bath for me and had me labor in the bathtub for a half hour to an hour, hoping I might dilate more while relaxed in the tub. While the temperature of the bath was nice, not being able to move around during contractions was not my favorite. I got out of the tub, she let me have a few more contractions and checked me again....No progress. By this time it was around 2am. Kathleen said I had a couple options: she could give me an injection with a strong herbal pain killer to help me sleep for a while or I could take some phenergan to help me sleep. While taking anything wasn't ideal - I had gone the entire pregnancy without taking anything but three other phenergans - I had been through all of this before, and the thought of being awake for hours before "real" labor kicked in was totally unappealing. And at this point the back labor was in full force, and I knew that when it really kicked into gear I would be needing all the rest I could get. I had phenergan but, of course, couldn't find it at the time, so we ended up opting for the injection of wolf's...something. I know I should remember what it was, but I was already in enough pain to not remember well.
So I got the shot and laid down. I wasn't convinced that it would work, but it was the best chance I had at sleep. Contractions sucked at this point, but were still manageable. Kathleen packed back up her equipment and gave me the now well-known "call me if your contractions get stronger, if your water breaks" or if I hit 4cms. She had been convinced the whole pregnancy that once I hit 4cms, that baby would basically come shooting out. (See: Sam's birth story for explanation.) She left and at 3am David and I closed our eyes and fell asleep.
Two and a half hours later I was woken from a dead sleep to wide awake with a crazy contraction. This was the real thing. When it abated, I woke David and told him it was definitely Go Time. We waited through one more contraction to be sure, I got up and peed and checked myself. 3.5cms. Progress. I need progress. David called my parents and told them it was time to come and Mom and Dad Franklin were put on high alert. Sam woke around 6:30 and found Daddy cleaning the kitchen and Mommy on all fours draped over a yoga ball. My folks arrived around 8am and found me sitting on the yoga ball bouncing and swaying between contractions, trying to get that little sucker's head all the way down and out. I checked myself again. 3.5cms. I need progress. Please.
It was decided a walk was in order. David, my dad, Sam and I went for a walk around the apartment complex. With each contraction, now coming about 3 minutes apart steadily, I would squat down, and David would push his fists into my lower back to help the pain. I would take a deep breath, moan softly through the pain, and then take another deep breath to signal to David that the contraction was over. He, or my dad, would help me up and we would walk for another couple minutes. We paused after a while at the tiny playground so that I could rest on the bench. I was able to soak up a very sweet moment: Sammy running around with his Daddy and Papa, climbing steps and going down the slide. These were the last hours of my firstborn being my only baby. It was precious to see and be in that moment.
We walked some more, squatted some more, sat some more. After a while - an hour? Five? - we went back inside, where I promptly draped myself over the yoga ball again for a couple contractions.
I think it's very important to mention at this point that Milo was spinning on his head this whole time. I mean this whole time. Spinning on his head. Hence the back labor. The crazy intense back labor at this point. Spinning.
Contractions were intense, gaining speed and strength, and I took a deep breath and checked myself again. 4cms! Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Time to call Kathleen. I told her it was time to come, that the contractions were stronger, longer, and I was finally really dilating. She asked if I was sure. I was actually exaggerating slightly the amount of pain I was in, willing it to be the truth, willing myself to be in transition even though I wasn't wanting to cry yet. She said she was on her way, and we hung up. And then, oh, then! The willing worked. Labor kicked in. Transition hit me, immediately. Like a freight train.
All of a sudden, I had to lie down and just breathe, just breathe through the contractions. I moaned to let David know when to shove his fists as hard as he could into my low back because, oh! the pain was intense. I told David to call Natalie, our dear sweet friend who was going to photograph the birth. Time to call the Franklins.
Kathleen arrived around 11:00, and everyone else shortly after (I'm told). Sam was having a good time being the center of everyone not in my room's attention, eating donuts, and watching Curious George (I'm told). Kathleen checked me and agreed that I was, indeed, finally at 4cms, and we should be having our baby soon. Natalie arrived and my mom tried to convince me to put back on the nightgown I'd been wearing because she was "sure I would want it for pictures." I calmly told her that no, I had specifically chosen the very pretty sports bra I was wearing to be decent for pictures, Natalie and I had discussed angles, and I really, really didn't want to put my nightgown back on. (Oh, the things that stick out in labor.)
Kathleen watched my progress for a while. Her assistant, Lisa, arrived. Time became a very fluid and fuzzy concept for me. I sat on one corner of the bed, legs apart, hips open, as encouraged by Lisa. I focused on each contraction, on breathing through it, on staying loose, on visualizing my cervix opening like a blossom (something we had been coached to do with Sam and something I completely forgot in the sprint that was Sam's transition). I moaned. I prayed. I tuned in and out of conversation around me. I remember at one point something being joked about between my mom and Kathleen, and one of them said that maybe they shouldn't be talking like that around me. I replied that it was fine, I was tuning them out. Worship music played softly. Bless the Lord, Oh my soul. Oils diffused near me. I reminded myself, over and over, that I would not repeat my mistakes with Sam's labor. I would do whatever the midwives told me to do to progress this labor. You're Beautiful. Daylight streaming in. Milo spinning on his head. Waiting. Please, sweet boy, come out.
So I got the shot and laid down. I wasn't convinced that it would work, but it was the best chance I had at sleep. Contractions sucked at this point, but were still manageable. Kathleen packed back up her equipment and gave me the now well-known "call me if your contractions get stronger, if your water breaks" or if I hit 4cms. She had been convinced the whole pregnancy that once I hit 4cms, that baby would basically come shooting out. (See: Sam's birth story for explanation.) She left and at 3am David and I closed our eyes and fell asleep.
Two and a half hours later I was woken from a dead sleep to wide awake with a crazy contraction. This was the real thing. When it abated, I woke David and told him it was definitely Go Time. We waited through one more contraction to be sure, I got up and peed and checked myself. 3.5cms. Progress. I need progress. David called my parents and told them it was time to come and Mom and Dad Franklin were put on high alert. Sam woke around 6:30 and found Daddy cleaning the kitchen and Mommy on all fours draped over a yoga ball. My folks arrived around 8am and found me sitting on the yoga ball bouncing and swaying between contractions, trying to get that little sucker's head all the way down and out. I checked myself again. 3.5cms. I need progress. Please.
It was decided a walk was in order. David, my dad, Sam and I went for a walk around the apartment complex. With each contraction, now coming about 3 minutes apart steadily, I would squat down, and David would push his fists into my lower back to help the pain. I would take a deep breath, moan softly through the pain, and then take another deep breath to signal to David that the contraction was over. He, or my dad, would help me up and we would walk for another couple minutes. We paused after a while at the tiny playground so that I could rest on the bench. I was able to soak up a very sweet moment: Sammy running around with his Daddy and Papa, climbing steps and going down the slide. These were the last hours of my firstborn being my only baby. It was precious to see and be in that moment.
We walked some more, squatted some more, sat some more. After a while - an hour? Five? - we went back inside, where I promptly draped myself over the yoga ball again for a couple contractions.
I think it's very important to mention at this point that Milo was spinning on his head this whole time. I mean this whole time. Spinning on his head. Hence the back labor. The crazy intense back labor at this point. Spinning.
Contractions were intense, gaining speed and strength, and I took a deep breath and checked myself again. 4cms! Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Time to call Kathleen. I told her it was time to come, that the contractions were stronger, longer, and I was finally really dilating. She asked if I was sure. I was actually exaggerating slightly the amount of pain I was in, willing it to be the truth, willing myself to be in transition even though I wasn't wanting to cry yet. She said she was on her way, and we hung up. And then, oh, then! The willing worked. Labor kicked in. Transition hit me, immediately. Like a freight train.
All of a sudden, I had to lie down and just breathe, just breathe through the contractions. I moaned to let David know when to shove his fists as hard as he could into my low back because, oh! the pain was intense. I told David to call Natalie, our dear sweet friend who was going to photograph the birth. Time to call the Franklins.
Kathleen arrived around 11:00, and everyone else shortly after (I'm told). Sam was having a good time being the center of everyone not in my room's attention, eating donuts, and watching Curious George (I'm told). Kathleen checked me and agreed that I was, indeed, finally at 4cms, and we should be having our baby soon. Natalie arrived and my mom tried to convince me to put back on the nightgown I'd been wearing because she was "sure I would want it for pictures." I calmly told her that no, I had specifically chosen the very pretty sports bra I was wearing to be decent for pictures, Natalie and I had discussed angles, and I really, really didn't want to put my nightgown back on. (Oh, the things that stick out in labor.)
Kathleen watched my progress for a while. Her assistant, Lisa, arrived. Time became a very fluid and fuzzy concept for me. I sat on one corner of the bed, legs apart, hips open, as encouraged by Lisa. I focused on each contraction, on breathing through it, on staying loose, on visualizing my cervix opening like a blossom (something we had been coached to do with Sam and something I completely forgot in the sprint that was Sam's transition). I moaned. I prayed. I tuned in and out of conversation around me. I remember at one point something being joked about between my mom and Kathleen, and one of them said that maybe they shouldn't be talking like that around me. I replied that it was fine, I was tuning them out. Worship music played softly. Bless the Lord, Oh my soul. Oils diffused near me. I reminded myself, over and over, that I would not repeat my mistakes with Sam's labor. I would do whatever the midwives told me to do to progress this labor. You're Beautiful. Daylight streaming in. Milo spinning on his head. Waiting. Please, sweet boy, come out.
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