and then there were four

Some of you may remember that having a baby takes time for me... lots, and lots, of time.  So, when I felt a few easy contractions start up this time, I disciplined myself to stay relaxed and try to rest early.  It was a little before midnight on Friday evening and realistically, and I knew we'd be lucky to meet our little girl before the end of the weekend.  Still, I text-messaged my midwife to let her know that maybe, just maybe, this was really the beginning of labor.  She wisely reminded me to get some rest and keep her posted.  I settled next to my slumbering husband and tried to go to sleep.

A bit over an hour later, my mind was filling with "to do's" - things I wanted to make sure were wrapped up around the house before we left have a baby.  In spite of wisdom calling me to stay in bed, I got up, convinced that I could settle my mind in a warm, steamy shower.  Contractions continued, seemingly "organizing" a bit into an evenly spaced, hardly noticeable rhythm of labor.  Still over 15 minutes apart, I knew this was (at best) very early labor, and so I enjoyed a leisurely shower.  Long, hot showers are a bit of a luxury when your "career" is full-time mama of little boys.  So, wee hours of morning or not, I really enjoyed it.

As I left the downstairs bathroom, I noticed a few large containers of blueberries.  We had just picked about 25 lbs the day before, and I had not gotten them into bags (and the freezer).  Realizing that if labor actually progressed overnight, I wouldn't be able to finish that project, I stopped and began bagging blueberries.  (Yes, it was a little before 2 AM.  Yes, this made sense to me at the time.  Rest, schmest.)  As I began organizing ziploc bags, however, I noticed that the contractions felt a little uncomfortable and seemed a little closer together.  

I headed upstairs to time things, and found contractions, though still mild were now around 10 minutes apart and maybe - just maybe - this labor would not take all weekend.  I decided that I should have Mr. Kenobi call his mom, who lives about an hour & a half away, to let her know we could need her to come stay with the boys before they got up in the morning.  When I woke him, I also asked him to send a message to the midwife to let her know I was predicting we'd want to head to the birth center within the next few hours, as I didn't want to labor too long at home and have to get in the car when things were difficult.

He called both his mom and the midwife.  Everyone would be ready for us within an hour or so, and we could speed up the timeline if I wanted.  At this point, I noticed that stacked in neat piles, around the border of our bedroom, were stacks of clean laundry.  I had spent much of the prior day purging  maternity clothes and larger-sized diapers from their places, making space for the infant-sized diapers in the changing station and (hopefully) smaller-sized, normal clothes for me.  Since it was still over a week to my due date, I had not packed much into the small bag I planned to take to the birth center.  I decided to find the baby's "going home" outfit and a few things for myself.  In the process, contractions actually started to get uncomfortable, a good sign that things were moving along.

Before I had found my shampoo and a couple blankets for the bag, however, I decided that I'd rather get to the birth center than stay around the house much longer.  The contractions seemed closer together and I was certain this was progressing into "real" labor.  I asked Mr. Kenobi to call the midwife back and ask her to meet us earlier, and call our neighbor to stay with the boys until his mom arrived.  While he felt I was probably overly excited, he obliged.  My midwife asked if he'd prefer she come to us, in case we felt labor was really progressing quickly.  He asked me, and we both assured her that we really wanted (and were able) to get to the birth center for the more difficult stages of labor.  Our neighbor said he'd be there within 10 minutes, and Mr. Kenobi told him it would take us at least that long to get the car loaded and ready to leave.  This was around 2:45 am.  Our three Obis slept soundly in their room down the short hallway from our bedroom.

I headed to the bathroom while Mr. Kenobi tried to help finish my bag-packing task.  As I rounded the doorway back into our room, I told him that this was starting to get hard to handle.  Labor was progressing faster than I'd ever experienced - after all, it was only a couple hours from the first sign of contractions, and I was feeling like these were coming quite quickly and getting painful.  He calmly reassured me, and softly advised me to breathe deeply and relax; we'd get to the birth center soon and I'd have a wonderful, beautiful birth.  He also dialed our midwife to give an update.  "Let's go downstairs and get in the car, honey.  We're not far and Mr. L (our neighbor) will be her in a minute."  He took my hand to help steady me and I was reminded how much I can rely on his wise, strong, calm presence at all times, but especially in moments like this.

As he spoke, my heart and mind calmed but my body launched into a massive contraction.  I stood by my bed, and tried to remain focused through it.  Suddenly, I looked at my husband in surprise and said, "I think this baby is coming quickly!  I can't go get in the car!  I don't want to ride anywhere."  

My husband spoke calmly and deliberately: "it's okay, sweetie.  You're doing great and you've got time.  Just take a breath in - nice, deep breath."  He had my cell phone cradled on his shoulder and dialing.

Another contraction followed quickly as I hissed my reply to his "breathe in" advice: "I CANNOT SUCK HER BACK IN!!"

"Oh my gosh!  There's a head!"  Mr. Kenobi, ever calm but obviously shocked, held out his hands to help me as the phone dropped on the ground.  I could faintly hear our midwife's voice from the speaker.  With little more than a single, difficult contraction, our daughter was emerging into this world.  Mr. Kenobi began grabbing from the pile of clean, large cloth diapers behind me, and said something about me being tall and distance to the floor.  I lowered myself a little closer to our bedroom carpet as I felt another contraction, and found my husband "catching" our daughter and quickly (expertly, even) checking her umbilical cord to make sure it wasn't wrapped around her.  A small cry and snarfly breath later from our baby, and we looked at each other in shock.

Our child was beautiful, breathing, and very much here.  Time was spinning fast.  I held her and began trying to rub her skin with blankets and keep her close to me for warmth.  Mr. Kenobi picked up the phone to hear the midwife say she was around the corner and offer some instructions for the next few minutes.  Our neighbor knocked on the door, and my husband let him in, saying, "The baby is here.  Could you stick around and keep the dog downstairs?"  Bless Mr. L, he did stay - even offering to help if we needed anything.  He was an amazing sport, though I'm pretty sure we may have traumatized him forever.  The boys, meanwhile, were still sleeping.

Our midwife arrived within a few minutes, and hustled upstairs to check out me and our little "Princess Leia." The umbilical cord had started to cease pulsing, offering the last surge of oxygen-rich nourishment to our baby.  Mr. Kenobi was offered the chance to "cut the cord."  Since he'd already delivered the baby, I suppose that was a little anti-climatic, but still a special privilege.  The midwifery team helped me complete delivery of the placenta and began newborn checks, and both of us proved healthy and well.  Ever practical, I looked at my midwife and quipped, "I suppose I'm going to have to replace this carpeting."  Birth is, after all, a notoriously messy endeavor, and I'd just had an unplanned home birth in my bedroom.  She laughed and just congratulated us on a "very natural" childbirth.

Within a half hour or so, I went to take a quick shower while the midwives cleaned up my room.  Thanks to my lack of task-completion (leaving piles of cloth diapers on the floor), everything had actually been completely contained on washable linens.  Before I returned to my room they had put everything into the wash.  There was literally no evidence that anything unusual had happened in my room.  My girl is speedy AND tidy.  Sweet!  

While I showered, Mr. Kenobi sat nearby in case I needed anything.  The adrenalin of the past two hours (an endorphin rush that is supposed to help a woman naturally labor through transition and final stages of labor) was beginning to hit me now, and I felt a burst of energy.  "Well," I said, "I guess I can check 'have a baby' off my to-do list for today.  What do I do now?  I'm awake - maybe I could finish those blueberries!  Or, I could put on makeup.  We are going to take some pictures, right?" I think Mr. Kenobi nearly fell off his seat as he laughed out loud. My husband and I are nothing if not a really good team with a common sense of humor.

I returned to my room, held my baby, and looked to the midwives as they laid out the next options.  "Well, you're both doing great.  If you'd like we can keep monitoring everyone and you can get ready to head to the birth center."  YES!  I may have had a home birth, but I was headed to the most wonderful B&B-like experience anyway.  Every mama should get to have a baby in that sort of space and nurturing environment, really.  A complete team of midwives, post-partum doulas, lactation experts, and massage therapists would care for me and our daughter during the next three days.  My husband would hang out with us, our boys and family would get to visit, all in a homey and beautiful sanctuary of baby bliss.  Andaluz Birth Center, I *heart* you and your people.

While incredibly weird to load a newborn into her "going home" outfit and car seat to take her TO the birth center, we went anyway.  And three days later, we put her back in that outfit and car seat to head back to the place of her birth. 

In the end, all that really matters in this long story are these four words: We. Had. A. Baby.  A beautiful baby girl is now part of our family.  Mama and daughter are doing well, older Obi's love her to pieces, and Dada will forever get to tell the story of catching her in his protective, loving arms - the first act in a lifetime of care for his girl.  Two parents, four kids, a dog, a fish, four chickens, awesome neighbors, and incredible extended family.  Our life overflows with blessings. Welcome home, little one.