Baby Boo (or, Ben) was born two months ago. I was SO done with that pregnancy. I gained 15lbs more than I did with Hannah (which I still have, so it hasn't gone to waste, even if it HAS gone to waist.) My body creaked every time I stood up, it took a few seconds for my pelvis to get into position for walking. My back hurt. I peed every hour. Baby liked to kick for the first hour I was in bed every night. I was very uncomfortable. I felt HUGE. I was huge. I saw a photo of my cousin carrying twins at 8 months, and she looked like me at 7 months with just one baby. Cripes. It just didn't end.
And then it did. I was up until 2:30am the night before, after a long day. Church event in the morning, mall in the afternoon, a missed connection where I completely blanked on my dad and stepmother coming to visit, and we didn't end up meeting. Once Hannah was down for the night, snug in her owl bed, I headed downstairs to my sewing room and started finishing Brown Baby Quilt in earnest. I had been working on it for nearly two months, since I bought the delicious 1001 Peeps fabric at the fabric store's boxing day sale. LOVE love love the fabric. Didn't realize for a few weeks that I had just invested in fabric full of camels, turbans, and harem pants, for a baby Hannah had dubbed 'brown baby'. It's her favourite colour, that's all. And I laughed too hard the first time she called the baby that.
We still call him that.
So after a charming two hour nap, I wake up wet at 4:45am. I go to the bathroom, and I am so relieved. It's like something has changed, I don't feel nearly as uncomfortable any more. There's clear liquid that has come out, which is a good sign. I go back to bed, try to fall back asleep, but contractions start every 12 minutes or so. Plus I'm excited, as it's finally happening. I go over in my head, when do I call the midwife? When do I call the doula to come, and my mother-in-law to pick up and take care of Hannah? I doze on and off for a bit, finally text my doula at 8am. She still goes to church, teaches Sunday school, and we reconnect in the afternoon. By the time she gets here at 2pm, Hannah is already with her Nanny. The doula hooks up her TENS machine and gives me my button to push with each contraction. She leaves, and I bake a loaf of bread. We text back and forth, she encourages me to nap. I go to Hannah's bed and nap for a bit, then get up and make some ginger molasses cookie dough. I know I won't have time or ability in the coming week, all postpartum and newborn jazz, so I get it done.
I keep track of contractions over 7 hours time. They stay pretty steady at 8 minutes apart, close in to 6 or 4 at times. By evening I tell my doula she should come now. Andrew and I have a lovely dinner alone, just the two of us. It's lovely. I know I need to eat, as one never knows how long labour will be, or how much energy we'll need to complete it. The doula arrives, and starts doing her job to get labour moving faster. I'm doing lunges across the living room, not knowing the neighbour across the street is watching through her window, knowing what's going on. My legs still hurt in the days afterward. I walked up and down the stairs, I paced in circles through the living room and kitchen. The midwife came and checked me, things were progressing well. Between contractions, I was cheerfully chatting with my very upbeat and happy doula. Contractions even seemed more bearable this time around. If my first labour was the ocean, this one was a backyard swimming pool.
The contractions didn't get too much closer together, but progress was made significantly by the next time the midwife checked. Andrew comes in the room and supposedly I was to tell him about the extra centimetres in dilation my cervix had gained. But I didn't really feel any different, I didn't think it was such miraculous gossip. The midwife had me get on all fours and do some cat-cows to move the baby's head down. I got all over that one, come on down baby! And it worked.
The second midwife arrived. The midwives went to my bedroom to set up all their birth supplies. I was oblivious to much of it, and the chatter from the other room wasn't much different than two ladies making perogies in the kitchen. I made more progress over the toilet, with more liquids and eventually a big boogery mucous plug sliding out. Every advancement was just so awesome, I was so happy to become unpregnant minute by minute. By 11pm, I felt it was time to move to the bedroom.
We set up the towels and chux pads on my bed (incontinence pads, very important for a home birth). I'd have some contractions, and in between take water and pee breaks. They were still far enough apart and I was still capable enough to walk to the toilet. But not much pee came. Until eventually, a WHOLE lot of pee came. I made it back to the bed after, and it was just a few minutes before I felt the urge to push. It was 10 past midnight, and it only took about 4-5 sets of pushes to get him out.
I admit it, I cheated. Just a little. The midwife was saying, only push when you feel the urge, but ohhhh I wanted that baby out. I'd give it a little extra as the urge subsided. By the third round, I felt her hands going up there. I knew the baby must be close. When I asked about it, my husband said "You're REEEEALLY close". I don't even know what any of this looked like, I had my eyes closed. The midwife instructed me, as she had to for my first birth as well, to "unghhhh" instead of screaming. Oh right! Use that energy wisely. So I Unnnnnghhhhhed. Then she said we'd do push and stops. So my doula coached me through it. I'd Unnnghhhh when she told me to, then pah!pah!pah!pah!pah! with my eyes wide open looking into her face as she pah!pah!'d with me. It certainly felt like a baby was coming out of me. And pah!pah! pop! Out slithered a big baby. He looked big. They put his slimy body on me, not all towelled off like Hannah had been. I didn't quite have the energy to pick him up and peek at his parts, so I just accepted for the moment that it was a baby, and looked into his scrunchy little face.
Andrew verified that it was indeed a boy. The midwife was saying, "I knew it! My guess was correct!" He was just too big to be a girl, apparently. When she weighed him, I couldn't believe it. "4..." she started, "whaaat?" I said, remembering that Hannah had only been 3700. "4380g" was the final verdict, that's 9lb10.5oz.
My doula told me later that I said something around the lines of "I can't believe there was a tiny penis in me the whole time". Or maybe it was tiny person. Heh.
She also noted, during the birth, how my stomach so visibly dropped as labour progressed, baby got into position and liquids all leaked out. It did certainly change shape, but it can be hard to marvel at little things like that when you're giving birth.
Right, so now he's almost 10 weeks, and it's 1:30am and I'm knitting while watching Julie & Julia, and Hannah's been asleep since 10:15, baby since 11:30 or so, and next up is me.
