My youngest child recently celebrated his 4th birthday. He’s a lively bundle of energy, sharp-witted, adorable, and, at times, a bit of a handful. However, my experience of carrying him was anything but joyful. It wasn’t just the typical discomforts like swollen ankles or nausea; it felt like my very body was falling apart.
At one point, I was crawling around my house, picking up toys as I struggled to manage my pain. When you’re confined to the couch, you learn to adapt. He was due on March 24, and it appeared I would either be gardening on my hands and knees or juggling a baby on my back. I experienced daily contractions starting at just 14 weeks, as if my uterus was throwing a tantrum.
The final week of my pregnancy was like a drawn-out labor. I endured consistent contractions every eight to ten minutes—sometimes intensifying to almost feel like active labor, but mostly just a constant annoyance.
On March 26, amidst an exhausting night of persistent contractions, my water broke. While it wasn’t a dramatic event, it prompted me to change clothes and freshen up the sheets. Having been in labor for what felt like eternity, the post-water-break contractions were merely an extension of my ordeal.
I woke my husband, Jake, to let him know I had wet the bed and to fill the birthing pool in our kitchen. I contacted my midwife, a remarkable woman in her seventies known for her wisdom and trademark gray bun. When I told her the situation, she assured me she’d be there in the early morning hours.
Next, I called my doula, who arrived promptly, and reached out to my eldest daughter, Mia, who was 17, to watch over my youngest, Ava, who was barely 2. In the meantime, I baked a chocolate cake (because that’s just how I roll) and whipped up some buttercream frosting.
As time went on, not much changed. In the early afternoon, my midwife suggested I try some black and blue cohosh tinctures—foul-tasting but reportedly effective. I used my breast pump to nurse my 17-month-old to stimulate contractions (yes, I’m that kind of mom), while my midwife made a quick trip to Costco, presumably for paper towels.
The atmosphere shifted as more friends and family gathered, filling the room with chatter as I labored. Hours turned into evening, and while everyone enjoyed the chicken noodle soup I had prepared, I remained in my own world of discomfort.
The night wore on, and despite the presence of loved ones, I felt increasingly isolated. I was stuck at 7 to 8 centimeters with my baby’s head refusing to descend. My anxiety mounted, compounded by the trauma of a previous shoulder dystocia.
Jake and I attempted to find solace in the shower, where he rubbed my back while I vocalized through contractions. We managed a few minutes of rest in bed, but when we awakened, it was clear that I was losing steam.
As we contemplated our next steps, we made the painful decision to leave the comfort of our home and head to the hospital. This is where people often exclaim, “Thank goodness you transferred,” or “All that matters is a healthy baby, right?”
But as I dressed, packed my bag, and hugged my children goodbye, I couldn’t control my tears. I sobbed during the 25-minute drive to the hospital, through the intake process, and while donning the hospital gown.
Despite having a supportive team advocating for a natural birth, the tears kept flowing. I was grateful for the midwife who stayed by my side for seven hours, helping my stubborn son, but I still cried.
Eventually, with a small amount of pitocin, my body finally responded, leading to the birth of my healthy, 10-plus-pound son. I was relieved, but still grieving.
My envisioned birth was supposed to be tranquil—immersing in water in my kitchen, surrounded by family and celebrating with cake and champagne. Instead, it turned into a scenario I hadn’t anticipated.
I don’t want to hear anyone say, “At least he’s healthy.”
If you’re navigating pregnancy and considering your options, check out this excellent resource on family building. And if you’re interested in home insemination, discover the Cryobaby at Home Insemination Kit for a seamless experience. You might also want to explore the 18-piece At Home Insemination Kit for all your needs.
In summary, my experience surrounding my son’s birth was filled with unexpected emotions, and while I am grateful for his health, it was a journey marked by grief and unfulfilled expectations.
Leave a Reply