Change

Everything changes.  Some things change slowly, with the gradual trickle of moments into days, weeks, years.  Other things change with shattering speed.  Nothing on this earth is permanently fixed, immune to change.  Even things of eternity: love, family, faith, spiritual stature, are always changing, growing.

I woke up a little before 2 am last Friday morning feeling sharp, crampy pain in my lower belly.  Thinking it was just my full bladder pushing against all my other squashed internal organs I got up and went to the bathroom.  No blood, no signs of labor.  I’d been to the doctor Thursday morning and was at 1 - 2 cm dilated, and 50% effaced.  My cervix was very posterior, indicating labor might be days away still.  The problem with obstetric statistics is. . . . they don’t always mean anything.  

I climbed back into bed and had another crampy wave a few minutes later.  Still not convinced it was labor, my water hadn’t broken like it had with the other two, and this felt different than I remembered.  Thursday afternoon David and I ditched the kids and went walking up our “labor hill.”  The OB’s were all very concerned that I was a week overdue, they were talking about inducing, so we went walking to try to get things going.  The particular hill we climbed put me into labor for Z, and got things going for J as well.  It was worth a shot.  And it was a very nice day, and pleasant to be out in the woods just the two of us.  And it helped me to sink into readiness for baby to come.  I couldn’t stay pregnant forever, right?  But I had been so preoccupied with . . . everything. . . that I hadn’t had the time to enter that “ready” state of mind.

I kept an eye on the clock and timed the cramps, which were becoming warmer and harder.  They were coming about 5 minutes apart and once they got to the point where I couldn’t lie down through them any more I decided it must be time and got out of bed.  I had a moment of panic.  How am I supposed to keep everything in our family functioning with a newborn?  How would I be able to manage to keep everyone on an even keel through this transition, which under the best of circumstances would be hard?  But the panic passed as another wave came and I forced myself to feel it, to welcome it, to relax into it.

I told Z I had a tummy ache and she should go back to sleep.  Of course, she somehow knew something was going on and was wide awake, though she did listen and stayed in bed.  Then I walked outside onto the deck to call my midwife.  I thought I was being stealthy but somehow David sensed there was someone out there and came to investigate.  I told him I thought I was in labor but he should relax, could be a while still before things got interesting.  It was about 230 and at that point my contractions were about 2 minutes apart and just under a minute long, gaining strength all the time.  The midwife got underway and I went back inside and tried to find a comfortable place to labor.  My other two labors I was able to find a comfortable spot to be still and allow the contractions to come and go, entering a magical state of suspended time and being.  This time I was uncomfortable no matter where I was.  I thought it was my psyche still battling all the worries in my mind, and I predicted that that would make things take longer and harder.

I leaned on the kitchen counter, knelt backwards on the couch, stood upright, rested on a stack of pillows on the bed, nothing felt good.  I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet through a couple of contractions, starting to moan through them.  David came in and I told him he might want to start setting up the birth pool.  He started to blow it up and came back in to tell me Z wouldn’t go back to bed.  I told him to call his mom to come get her, things were starting to get intense.

I moved from the toilet to the shower, where I stood with the water on my back, leaning on the shelf and yelling through contractions.  At the height of one particularly hard one my waters burst under the pressure.  The fluid that came out was clear, a good sign, and I checked to make sure there was no cord prolapse.  No cord, and the presenting part felt like a head, but I thought I could also still feel some cervix around it.  At that point the thought came to me that David needed help. . . it was too much to get the tub filled, get Z out the door, get the camera set up, and get everything else ready.  So I turned the water off and got out, intending to call my doula to come help.

All of the following events happened simultaneously:  David’s mom came to pick up Z, so David was at the door handing her off.  My doula answered her phone at 4:03 am, and I just had time to say “Hey, it’s Jenne, I’m in labor.”  A massive contraction seized my whole body and all I could do was drop the phone and scream through it.  I felt baby’s head move down, too fast.  I expected the contraction to let up and allow the birth to happen gradually but it just kept going.  I was standing next to the bed, one hand on the mattress and the other hand feeling the baby’s head emerging.  I tried to slow it down, to breathe through it, to relax, but there was no rest.  I had no choice but to surrender and scream as her head pushed its way all the way out into my hand.

The contraction ended and, stunned, I called out “David!  Baby’s coming!”  He ran back into the room and supported baby’s head.  I checked for a cord around her neck and felt nothing.  I just had time to crawl onto the bed with David’s help before the next wave overtook me.  On hands and knees I yelled and pushed back gently on baby’s neck.  Her front shoulder popped out, followed by the rest of her warm body, and she landed in a gush of fluid on the bed, David guiding her and making sure she had a soft landing.  She immediately cried out, and after a moment of catching my breath I asked David to pass her through my legs up to where I could see her.  I rubbed her down with a towel to get her to breathe, but she was already fully breathing and crying.  In the dim light I could see she was a girl!

The midwife arrived as I was toweling her off.  Her assistant arrived a few minutes later, followed by my doula.  David cut baby’s cord and the placenta came out after some effort.  She was weighed and checked.  9 pounds, 22 1/2 inches long, 14 inch head.  

And so our family of 4 changed to 5.  And the slow clock of growing up began ticking for another of our babies.  I do my very best to drink in all the moments, to appreciate every good thing as it is, as it will never be again, because everything changes.  It’s difficult and glorious at the same time, and I’m learning that it is the way God intended it to be.