It all started by . . . not starting. My due date was Dec. 8th. I know the day we got pregnant. The due date was correct. On the 8th, nothing. I was hoping to have “baby” as close to the first week of December as possible so that his/her birthday wouldn’t be consumed by the busyness of Christmas, but I was also determined not to rush baby. (At this point, I am still thinking of Katie as “the baby,” because I never had a sonogram and the gender was still a surprise.)

This child was not in a rush. It was not until Dec. 21, the final day of week number 42, that I woke Daniel early in the morning with the “I think it’s time” announcement. Of course, we were having the baby at home so there was nothing really to do. I wrapped Christmas presents and excitedly welcomed each contraction. Oh, and I put makeup on and curled my hair so I would be pretty for the pictures.

It seemed then that things started going backwards. My contractions became less strong and further apart. Later I realized that if I would’ve gotten up and walked around it probably would’ve kept things going, but my birth class has stressed the importance of staying relaxed, so it didn’t occur to me.

Eventually, things revved up again and the contractions got really strong. I started throwing up. Not a little. After every other contraction for about 12 hours straight. It was wretched. I think by this point I had been awake for over 24 hours and hadn’t been able to keep food or water down for half of that. I was weak and becoming scared that I didn’t have what it took to see this through. My midwives, Susan and Angela, were becoming concerned for the very same reason.

I was sweaty and smelled like puke. I needed some space from all the people that were looking at me with deeply concerned expressions so I took a shower. While I was in there everyone started praying intensely. They knew something had to happen or I was going to end up at the hospital with an emergency c-section. I knew it too. As I stood in the shower something changed. I went in terrified and came out ready. I threw my birth classes out the window. They were getting in the way. I started walking fast and lifting my belly with each contraction to cause myself to dialate. It hurt more than I had imagined was even possible. I wanted drugs. I wanted them bad. But I didn’t want my baby to have them and I didn’t want to have to go to the hospital so a bunch of doctors could order me around.

I was ready and willing to trust my body. My expectations of a picture-perfect birth with neatly coiffed hair and just the right shade of lip gloss were replaced by sweat and puke. But I was ready.

The midwives filled up the birthing tub in my living room. When they finally let me get in it was heaven. The water was warm and so relaxing to my tired muscles. I had been awake for about 35+ hours at this point.

When I entered transition I knew I was close to the end. It hurt like nothing I have ever felt before, but fortunately it didn’t last too long.

Pushing . . . ugh. I did most of my pushing on the toilet. It helped to be in that position for some reason. So there I was, pushing as hard as I could on the throne with two midwives watching me and cheering me on. I was so exhausted at this point that I hallucinated in was in Smurf Land. Yes, there was music. And Smurfs. And mushroom-shaped houses.

By now I had been awake almost 40 hours and my water still had not broken. My midwife told me that my nutrition had been so good throughout my pregnancy that the sac was too strong so I asked her to break it. The first midwife tried and couldn’t, but the second midwife was finally able to.

I’ll wrap this up now. When baby was finally born it didn’t hurt at all. The water was warm and I remember noticing that baby’s head was shaped perfectly as she came through my body. Such a weird thing to think, I know, but I remember it vividly. Daniel caught baby under the water and the midwives worked to clear the mouth. They laid baby on my chest with a warm blanket over. I was in awe and very scared. At this point, I had been awake for almost 42 hours. I felt totally exhausted and vulnerable. All through my pregnancy I had eaten well, exercised, etc. I had done everything I could to take care of my baby. But the moment I saw her I was totally undone. I realized in an instant that without God’s help I was totally unfit for the task ahead of me . . . parenting this tiny little person. Everyone was watching. Finally Daniel said “Well, what is it?” I had forgotten to check! We took a peek and my voice cracked with joy as I announced it was a girl.

Similar Posts:

• Micah’s Birth Story Part 2
• Micah’s Birth Story Part 1