A Birth Story, Part 1 of 2.

{Written on April 14, 2010.}

Jen has been asking me to write my version of Blake's birth story.  I actually think there is much value in having my version down anyway, as I wasn’t the one wincing in pain, and I was more in tune with the timing, progression, and perceptions of things throughout the day anyway.

First of all, I should note a few things about our previous child-acquisition strategy.  When Ian was born, we 

12 Days Prior to Go-time. Concord, MA.

 had spent the weeks prior studying adoption protocol, newborn care, parenting strategies, and devising ways to handle the sudden jolt to parenthood smoothly.  We knew we would be getting a baby around the 19^th of February, though we weren’t experiencing the discomforts, anxieties, and warning signs that come in advance of labor and delivery.  On the due date, we called Valerie and asked how she was feeling, to which she told us that the day had arrived.  (She had been contracting all through church that morning)   We packed up the car and headed down to Cedar City amid a blinding snowstorm which covered the traffic lanes and slowed traffic down to 20-25 mph down I-15.   But the real point is that we were just going down for the show.  We were to be beneficiaries, essentially playing supporting roles to Valerie who was the lead.  She had been psyching herself up, and we had been pumping her up along the way, knowing that she had the hardest part of it all, that we were there to help HER transition into a birth-mother role.

Supplies gathering.  Our House.

Fast forward four years.  In January we enrolled in an all-day childbirth class at the hospital.  Never mind that we already had a child at home.  We didn’t really know anything about birth apart what Jen had seen on that TLC Birth Story show, what I had learned around the farm, and the little tid-bits that we had picked up from people “in the know” through the past several years.  When framed like that, it sounds like our parents never gave us the talk.  Well, parents seem to neglect the part of the talk that describes all the details of the weeks at the tail end of the 9 months, compared to the details they try to give about what happens during the lead-up to the 9 months.

So we took the birthing class and hit the high points about how the baby’s body is conducive to being shoved through a keyhole by contorting, twisting, turning at just the right times.  We talked about pain management techniques through focusing, relaxing, breathing, moving, and having a support person touch in helpful ways.  It was a quite informational class, and well-worth the investment of a Saturday and a couple hundred dollars.  We felt like we knew what was going to happen and how it was going to happen. 

Ian, our astute midwife.  Not really, but we took turns with the
fetoscope to listen to Blake make noises, as evidenced by all
the dimples we made on the cocoon.  Jen was not feeling well
this day, but she still looked good!

About a month prior to the birth, we made a decision to try for a home birth.  And when I say “try for,” what I mean is “prepare for” as in hire a midwife, gather the supplies, alienate our obstetrician, feel the highs and lows of going rogue.  We were basically turning off our transmitters to THE SYSTEM and doing the delivery off-radar.  To ME at least, that was a very enlivening feeling.  I LOVE trailblazing, doing things my own way, answering to only myself.  Under those circumstances, I always come away feeling a rush of adrenaline knowing that I have done something spectacular.  The idea of home birth seemed very individualistic, wholistic, and free-form.  (Not to mention I have always had a bit of distrust for doctors, knowing that ulterior motives of legal safety, income, and ego can sway a doctor into recommending things that are good and decent, but not necessarily the best.)  Perhaps a healthy dose of my skepticism formed when medical science proved to really be a medical experiment in terms of my tumor, Jen’s hospitalization, our infertility, and many other illnesses that we’ve encountered in the past.  Doctors gather information, process it against their experience, and make their best guess as to what is going on.  When experience fails to provide a solution, back to ground zero.  So what happens when  a couple of newly fertile lovebugs decide to do their own experiment-- rather than following a procedure that had been proscribed according to repeated case studies that developed protocols that seemed to serve the masses?  Well, you get a homebirth opportunity!  Jen has a host of other reasons and motivations regarding safety rate, bonding, pace and so forth, which I think she has enumerated before.

Test run with the birthing tub.  It fit fairly well in the
front room, and Ian and Chester gave it thumbs up!

Okay, so back to the weeks just prior to the birth.  We didn’t have to pack any bags, because we weren’t planning on a hospital trip.  Occasionally at night we ran my stopwatch function on my cell phone to get an idea of what kind of contractions Jen was feeling.  Most of the time, I’d time one, and by the time the next one came, I’d be asleep, or Jen would have lost interest in the timing.  These contractions were perhaps 20 minutes apart.  That is, until that fated Wednesday night when Jen sat up in bed all night long contracting on and off.  She said they came about every 10 minutes, were severe enough that she couldn’t sleep through them, and they felt like wrenching, cramping pains.  I appreciated the progress, especially since our official due date was to be that Sunday.  And Jen was told that she was measuring big at each of the ultrasound visits.  And we had finished all of the chores that Jen said HAD to get done before she could have a baby.  I don’t even remember what they were but I know we have moved furniture, hung pictures, cleaned out cabinets, done crafty projects like cross-stitching and silhouettes and crocheting buddy quilts.  I honestly don’t know what most of these projects had to do with the pregnancy, but Jen claimed that these things had to get done before she’d be confident giving birth.

After such a powerful night contracting, the regular contractions disbanded on Thursday, I went to work, and tried to think about contributing to various work projects.  The only problem was that I couldn’t focus.  I remember that basically Tuesday through Thursday that week I got only marginal amounts of work done.  I don’t know that anyone really expected much of me during those days.  I was soon to have my first-born second child!

Thursday night, I teased Jen that we needed to go for Mexican food to trigger the real deal.  I also asked her if she wanted to go to the gym, to the temple, to run up and down our stairs.  I was just feeling like she had had a rough enough night the previous night, and I didn’t want her to have a repeat of that.  (Now I realize, WHAT WAS I THINKING?  Those were GREAT nights of sleep!)  Jen said that we were supposed to have Pizza, according to Michaelis tradition.  

Turns out, Jen had a great night of sleep Thursday night without needing these extra things to tucker her out… that is, until about 4:30 in the morning!

...stay tuned for tomorrow's rest of the story.

Deborah and Joe embrace as the day has arrived.
Jen breathes through a contraction as the day has arrived.