I’ve heard of these magical fairy unicorn pregnant women, the ones who wake up one morning having no idea their baby will be in their arms at the end of the day; the ones who go into labor without much forewarning and barely have time to call their midwives or make it to the hospital before the baby is born; the ones who want a natural birth and get to adhere to their birth plan and feel every beautiful and difficult part of labor and birth. I knew these women existed, and I never expected that I would have such an experience. Harrison’s birth, beautiful in its own way, was far from the magical unicorn experience mapped out above. He was born in the hospital, after I labored naturally for 48 hours at home and 13 hours in the hospital with an epidural and Pitocin and antibiotics and who knows what else. I had his birth to go off of and visualize as I made my way through 40 weeks of pregnancy with our little Kozling #2. I was fully aware that most second-time (and onward) pregnancies can result in shorter and more efficient labors, since the body has already done it once and so in essence already has everything figured out. And so with that knowledge, I would mention to people that I was holding space for a six hour labor- partially joking, as six hours just felt so short to me and I didn’t truly know if my body would handle labor that way. I figured anything shorter than 2.5 days would be great, or any length of time at all if I my baby could just be born at home. I did have trust in my body, but I was also trying to be realistic.
So when Christmas Day came and Braxton Hicks contractions started to become more frequent in their occurrences that morning and afternoon, I thought nothing of it. We opened presents with Harrison that morning and FaceTimed with both sides of the family- naturally fielding questions about how I was feeling, and not mentioning the Braxton Hicks because I didn't think they needed mentioning- and decided to go to the beach in the early afternoon. It was cold and windy in Playa del Rey, but we had a lovely time with Harrison, digging in the sand and making tunnels for his new toys, and appreciating the beauty of being outside.
And so there I was at the beach, on the day of my baby’s birth, having no idea what was in store in just a few hours.
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| This was 5.5 hours before baby was in my arms. Look how unassuming I am! |
We walked home from the park around 4:30 and chatted about ordering takeout when we got back home. On that short walk I began to realize that I needed to start focusing on breathing through the cramp-like sensations, Once we got home I decided something *might* be happening, and as Jeremy was headed out the door around 5pm to pick up our dinner, I offhandedly mentioned that he should park on the street when he got home, so that our parking spot would be open for someone from our birth team, on the off chance I went in to labor that night. I kept Harrison busy for the 30 minutes that Jer was gone, and at the same time those crampy sensations started turning in to something I couldn't talk through. I remember sitting on the couch with Harrison reading him "One Fish, Two Fish" and needing to pause and stand up and work through each contraction while trying to make it through the book.
And then Jeremy came home and I couldn't sit down and eat the take out that had sounded so good just an hour previous, and I couldn't have a two minute conversation with Jer without pausing to work through a contraction. He told me I needed to call our midwives (5:30pm at this point), and he emailed his work to let them know he wouldn't be in for the week ahead. And then I told him he was jumping the gun and shouldn't have emailed work so soon. I mean come on you guys, baby was literally born two hours later and I still wasn't convinced I was in labor.
I chatted with one of our midwives at 5:50pm and let her know the specifics of the events of the day and our parting words had to do with keeping in touch with her over the next few hours and we'd decide whether or not she needed to come over that night.
Fast forward to ten minutes later when I called my Mom to let her know that perhaps I *might* be in early labor but I wasn't sure yet. And I mentioned the realization that if baby was born in under six hours, it would be a Christmas baby. And in that two minute conversation with her I had to stop talking and work through two separate contractions, and then my waters broke. What?!
Let's just stop and consider the fact that I had to push for HOURS during Harrison's birth before my waters broke, and here I was standing in my bedroom, casually chatting on the phone with my Mom, and there it happened out of the blue, just like in the movies (except not just like, aside from the seeming spontaneity of it all).
Jeremy was trying to finish giving Harrison a bath, and went back and forth between the two of us to help me whenever I went through a contraction. My waters were a funky color and my midwife decided she needed to be there sooner than later so she started making her way over. The last text I sent my doula, after we determined she'd come between 7:00-7:30 (to help me while Jeremy got Harrison down for bedtime), was that she could take her time since our midwife was on the way. So yes I finally realized I was in labor, but all of this planning- Harrison's bedtime, not needing to rush anyone over- is kind of comical to look at in hindsight.
Our first midwife arrived around 6:45pm and a few things happened very quickly:
1. It was determined that I was 10cm already.
2. She had come into the apartment in a rush and without her birthing supplies, and I vaguely remember her going back to her car to get the supplies and telling Jeremy to call her if he saw baby's head crowning.
3. The color of my waters meant that I needed to go to the hospital, as home-birth midwives are not equipped to deal with the potential ramifications of waters not being clear. (AKA, baby had a bowel movement in utero and if baby aspirated meconium while I was in labor there could be very detrimental effects.)
The only coherent words I could get out in between contractions at that point were "There's no way I can get in a car right now," and "I'm so flabbergasted!"
Birth was imminent, which meant that more than likely our baby would have been born in an ambulance if we decided to go to the hospital. In the end, no decision was actually made concerning whether or not to stay home or call 911. Labor just kept on happening. I dug deep and told my baby that we were going to be just fine. It really could have gone either way, but that baby was coming out FAST and we just kept on keeping on.
My doula arrived around 7pm, having no idea that things had progressed so quickly. She came not a moment too soon, and I then clung to her for the next half hour in what was likely a death grip. She was such a light, such a calm presence, by my side for the rest of labor. Jeremy continued to alternate between me and Harrison (lol on the idea of Harrison going to bed by 7:30 that night!), and he stayed by my side for the end of it. Harrison came in and out of the room, giving me kisses and hugs and was unfazed by everything that was going on.
And then, just like that, at 7:39pm, my baby was born. And with baby's arrival was the most earth-shattering, BEAUTIFUL cry that I have ever heard. The loudest healthy cry. Clear lungs. A healthy baby, placed into my arms immediately while I sat in a wave of happy hormones, Jeremy's arms around the two of us, and Harrison wandering in to the bedroom, looking at us, and adorably voicing "Baby!" Oh, my heart, in those moments.
I then was able to lay down in the comfort of my own bed with my baby in my arms and relish in the moments that had just happened, with the two other people I love most in this world right by my side.
1. It was determined that I was 10cm already.
2. She had come into the apartment in a rush and without her birthing supplies, and I vaguely remember her going back to her car to get the supplies and telling Jeremy to call her if he saw baby's head crowning.
3. The color of my waters meant that I needed to go to the hospital, as home-birth midwives are not equipped to deal with the potential ramifications of waters not being clear. (AKA, baby had a bowel movement in utero and if baby aspirated meconium while I was in labor there could be very detrimental effects.)
The only coherent words I could get out in between contractions at that point were "There's no way I can get in a car right now," and "I'm so flabbergasted!"
Birth was imminent, which meant that more than likely our baby would have been born in an ambulance if we decided to go to the hospital. In the end, no decision was actually made concerning whether or not to stay home or call 911. Labor just kept on happening. I dug deep and told my baby that we were going to be just fine. It really could have gone either way, but that baby was coming out FAST and we just kept on keeping on.
My doula arrived around 7pm, having no idea that things had progressed so quickly. She came not a moment too soon, and I then clung to her for the next half hour in what was likely a death grip. She was such a light, such a calm presence, by my side for the rest of labor. Jeremy continued to alternate between me and Harrison (lol on the idea of Harrison going to bed by 7:30 that night!), and he stayed by my side for the end of it. Harrison came in and out of the room, giving me kisses and hugs and was unfazed by everything that was going on.
And then, just like that, at 7:39pm, my baby was born. And with baby's arrival was the most earth-shattering, BEAUTIFUL cry that I have ever heard. The loudest healthy cry. Clear lungs. A healthy baby, placed into my arms immediately while I sat in a wave of happy hormones, Jeremy's arms around the two of us, and Harrison wandering in to the bedroom, looking at us, and adorably voicing "Baby!" Oh, my heart, in those moments.
I then was able to lay down in the comfort of my own bed with my baby in my arms and relish in the moments that had just happened, with the two other people I love most in this world right by my side.
Baby came into this world the evening of December 25th, after three short hours of labor (mentally I didn't even realize I was in labor for the first 1.5 hours. It was quite the whirlwind.) It's been a month, and while naturally there have been ups and downs, I am still relishing in the beauty of our family of four.
In true Jeremy and Bekah fashion, we had still not agreed on a boy's name by the time I gave birth. We took a few minutes to get to know our little one before checking to see if we had a boy or girl, and when Jer finally checked, his laughter said it all. Another boy. Another precious little boy.
In true Jeremy and Bekah fashion, we had still not agreed on a boy's name by the time I gave birth. We took a few minutes to get to know our little one before checking to see if we had a boy or girl, and when Jer finally checked, his laughter said it all. Another boy. Another precious little boy.
We finally decided on a name a few days later. So, world, meet Dylan Asher, one of the most laid-back babies I've ever met. He was born at 7lbs even and measured 19.5 inches long.
He will wear all of Harrison's hand-me-downs but is already very uniquely his own person.
Harrison loves him like no other, and we do too. Our hearts doubled in size the moment Dylan was born, and it's hard to remember our family feeling complete without him.
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You need to post a tissue alert at the beginning of this - it is not lost on the reader that this might be the story told 2000 years ago on the night that is celebrated on December 25th - Welcome to the world baby Dylan - you hit the parent lottery!!!
ReplyDeleteOh man I need a tissue for every birth story I read!
DeleteWhile at church a few weeks before Dylan was born we were singing Silent Night and in that moment was the first time I correlated Mary giving birth to Jesus at the “same” time of year. I needed tissues then, too :)