WARNING: This post is very long and contains graphic details about childbirth. If you are squeamish, do not continue to read this post.
I promised in my last post that I would write up Edgar's birth story. So, with DH's help, here it is!
Edgar’s Birth Story
Around my due date, I started to develop a nasty case of pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy, or PUPPP. I had never heard of the rash before I had contracted it. While completely benign to both myself and Edgar, it was extremely itchy and causing me even more discomfort than would normally be expected when going overdue. The rash had spread to every single stretchmark on my body by November 2, and on the morning of November 3, I had woken up with the rash on the backs of my hands and fingers. That was the last straw for me. I emailed my midwife, N, that day. She responded, asking me to call her. After a short discussion, she suggested I come in to the clinic for another (my third) membrane sweep and a verbena and castor oil induction. I agreed, as the only way to end the rash would be to give birth.
The morning of November 4, DH and I drove to the midwife clinic for the “natural induction”. N, upon seeing my rash, said that it was the worst case she had seen yet. She even took pictures for her colleagues! N performed my third membrane sweep since 39 weeks and gave me the lemon verbena and castor oil with which I would be mixing up an “induction cocktail”. I was to mix the oils with juice and almond butter. I’ll be honest; it was one of the more disgusting things I’d ever had to drink. Imagine drinking the scent of lemon Pledge mixed with oil, mango juice, and almond butter. Yeah. I drank the first dose at 1:30PM and the second dose at 4:30PM. N called around 8:00PM to check if anything was happening yet; she would need to sleep early just in case anything started happening later in the night. So far, I was only having mild contractions every 7-10 minutes. By 10:00PM, nothing had really changed. I figured that nothing was going to happen that night, so I decided to lie down, albeit uncomfortably, and get some sleep.
Little did I know…
At 10:57PM, I felt Edgar head-butt my cervix, followed immediately afterward by a “POP” and a gush. My water had broken! It was such a strange and new sensation to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh in excitement. The moment was tinged with a little bit of disappointment. After N’s call earlier that evening, I had told my mother, who was planning on flying out for the labour, that nothing was happening. She had decided to call it a night. The last flight that night would have left Vancouver at 11:00PM. There was no way she would make it, and the next flight would not arrive in Calgary until around 7:30AM.
At about 11:00PM, I called N again and let her know that my water had broken. She asked me what colour my water was and if I was having any contractions. So far, my water was clear, which meant that we could proceed with our plans to give birth at the Arbour Birth Centre. N instructed me to call her back if I had minute-long contractions every four minutes for an hour, or 4-1-1. As I was still leaking fluid (such a strange sensation!), I went to the washroom and was in the process of putting on a Tena pad while having a conversation with DH across the apartment when my first contraction hit, interrupting me mid-sentence with an outburst of “Son of a b*tch!”. My first real contraction and what ended up being the only outburst in the entire course of labour.
From that point, the rest of the labour is a bit fuzzy for me. This is likely due to all the hormones and endorphins running through my body the entire time. To help out, DH is describing his experience in italics alongside my own from this point onward.
Hello.
After that first contraction, we began to time contractions using an app on my phone. Right off the bat, the contractions were coming every 2.5 to 4.5 minutes. While each one felt just as strong as the first, I held myself back from any more outbursts. I had another couple of contractions and then threw up my dinner, most likely because of the pain. I was so afraid that I would lose control and not be able to stop myself from going down the “pain spiral” – fear of pain makes one more aware of the pain, which causes panic, which makes the pain even worse and so on and so forth. Because of this, I went into an extremely focused state. Even though DH wanted to help, I didn’t want him to touch me at all; it was too distracting. All I did was lean on my yoga ball and breathe through contractions for the next hour.
This was actually a pretty awkward time for me. I wanted to be helpful like the “good husband” you see in birth stories, but ultimately the best thing I could do was stay out of her way. I tried napping. I was also the waterboy, keeping that water bottle always in reach and topped up with cool water. Aside from Vanessa calling her mom to tell her she’d gone into labour, that’s how we passed the next hour. At 12:05am Vanessa called N back and they talked for the next 20-30 minutes, during which time N assessed and timed Vanessa’s contractions over the phone. After it was established that Vanessa’s contractions were stable and regular, N made the drive over to our place.
N arrived shortly before 1am and after a quick check determined that Vanessa was 3-4 cm dilated. Since we had some time before it was necessary to head to the birth centre, we were advised to try to get some rest. Popping a couple of Gravol which we were told to have prepared ahead of time (the proper stuff, not just the ginger extract) as well as some Tylenol, Vanessa was able to get some sleep even in the midst of contractions while I was having some trouble falling asleep. During this time, N had set up camp at our dining room table and was filling out a considerable stack of paperwork (some forms were charting current progress, others were being prepared for us to fill out the next day). Around 1:45AM, Vanessa came out of the bedroom to rest on the yoga ball, and N decided it was time to start packing things up and make the trip out to the birth centre.
At this point, I was still focused on breathing through contractions and not really aware of much else going on. I do remember that at the time that we decided to head out to the birth centre, my contractions were about 2 minutes apart. Getting into the car was one of my least favourite parts of the labour; when I was on the yoga ball, I could at least move my hips around and get some of the pressure of Edgar’s head off of my pelvic bones. This isn’t exactly possible in a moving car with the seatbelt on. The drive to the birth centre was, what felt like, a very long 20 minutes. I am so thankful that it was the middle of the night and that there was next to no traffic!
When we pulled up to the birth centre, DH and N helped me waddle up the steps and into one of the suites. This is where things really start to get fuzzy for me. I remember N doing another check on me and finding out that I was now 5 cm dilated, which meant that I was officially in active labour. Now that I was in active labour, I was allowed to get into the birth tub. N asked DH to run a warm bath for me while I undressed. I had initially planned to have my mother there, and, as such, had packed a swimsuit top for decency’s sake. Since it was only DH and N in attendance now, I threw “decency” to the wind and went without the top. I really didn’t care about nakedness at this point; I had more important things occupying my mind.
It was approximately 2:30AM when we arrived at the birth centre, which is essentially a large converted house. The top floor consists of a kitchen, dining room, living room, and three bedrooms. Each bedroom has its own ensuite with a large spa-style soaker tub and supply closet with everything needed for birth, as well as everything necessary to stabilize an emergency situation for a trip to the nearby hospital. Needless to say it is a fairly large house, and with us being the only people (in the middle of the night) there was an air of serenity and importance to the setting. This atmosphere was further reinforced by our decision to forego the birthing music playlist Vanessa had prepared, and by the fact Vanessa’s focus was so strong that the only way one would know she was in labour was from the change in her breathing.
At about 3:00AM according to N’s notes, I entered the birth tub. The water was a nice temperature and the water took a bit of the weight off of my pelvis. One problem, though, was that I could not find a position to get comfortable. I kept on changing position and not feeling quite able to relax like I thought I would be able to in the water. It was a little distracting, but I was still able to maintain my focus. The contractions really didn’t feel any different to me at this point. DH kept on trying to help somehow, by offering to bring me food or drink, which I really didn’t want at this point. I really felt bad rejecting each effort he made to help. I also felt bad that every single time he moved around I kept on wishing bad things upon him for making noise.
This was probably the hardest time for me. I could tell that Vanessa was having a rough time finding a comfortable position in the tub, and, at the same time, whenever I asked if she would like anything it was met with a stern dismissal. Earlier in the day I had made the poor decision of playing on my computer rather than nap, so by this point I was fighting to stay awake. After forty minutes or so of reading on my phone to kill time and snacking on a couple of granola bars, I subtly suggested I pop over to the bed to catch a few winks… Word of advice guys out there with pregnant wives: Don’t even think of trying to take a nap while your wife is in active labour. Plan B was to head over to the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee from the can in the freezer with vague measuring instructions and an unfamiliar coffee-maker. This ended in both miserable failure and resounding success; it tasted as one would expect from freezer-burnt triple-strength coffee with too much sugar and no cream, but boy was I raring to go! This would have been around 4:00AM.
At some point (about 5:00AM) when I was in the tub, I began to feel like I had to have a bowel movement. I called N over and DH helped me over to the toilet. Despite feeling like there was the pressure of a bowel movement there, I just couldn’t go. Just in case, N checked me again to see if I was possibly fully dilated. Much to my disappointment, I was not. I was only 8-9 cm dilated, and was not allowed to attempt to push. N told me to avoid pushing at all costs at this point, as pushing without being fully dilated would have caused my cervix to become swollen and would have ruined any progress I had made. This was really frustrating to me, as I kept on feeling like I had to push. DH and N helped me back into the tub.
The only lights on at this point were the bathroom lights, dimmed to roughly 20%, and a table lamp over in the bedroom. The checks N were performing were done with a flashlight.
Again, I felt the urge to have a bowel movement. And again, DH and N helped me out of the tub and onto the toilet. And yet again, nothing came. This was repeated another one or two times, much to my annoyance. It was getting more and more difficult to focus on not pushing. N suggested getting out onto the bed to check me again. There was still a lip of cervix left that was sitting at 8-9 cm. Frustrated, I stayed out on the bed, labouring on all fours for a while. Finally, at around 5:30AM, my body started making me involuntarily push. I couldn’t fight it anymore, even with all of my concentration and focus. I called N over between contractions and let her know what was happening. She suggested we try moving over to the toilet again to see if maybe I needed to have a bowel movement.
On the toilet, I still could not fight the urge to push, even though there was no bowel movement to be found. N asked me to try a test push while she checked/held my cervix. As I pushed, that 8-9 cm lip of cervix just popped out of the way! I had sailed through transition and was ready to push. N called the secondary midwife, R, to make her way over to the birth centre (all births by midwife must have two registered midwives in attendance). I think it was at this point we moved back to the bed for me to push for a little while before R arrived. R arrived while I was pushing on the bed. My focus was still stable, and Edgar’s heart rate was doing fantastic.
It was shortly after R’s arrival, as the two midwives were delightfully chattering back and forth getting R up to speed, when one of them said something that really put Vanessa’s performance into perspective: “It’s just so quiet in here. You wouldn’t even know there’s a woman in labour!”
I really have no sense of the passage of time from this point onward; all I remember is pushing with everything I had in me, and then a little more, every time I had a contraction. In between contractions, I allowed myself to totally relax, and I felt almost like I was in a trance.
It was after roughly 40 minutes of pushing that all progress slowed to a stop. At the end of the birth canal, if a woman is on her back, the baby is forced to make a slight upward turn in order to exit. No matter how hard Vanessa pushed, she could not get Edgar up past that final turn. We decided to try and use gravity to our advantage rather than fight it.
R and N told me that we needed to move me to the toilet to push there. I didn’t question the instruction or say no; it felt right. DH and N helped me into the washroom and R followed. Pushing on the toilet felt much more natural and gravity was helping me with each push. The lights were dimmed and it was completely silent other than my breathing, the occasional hushed conversation or joke between contractions, or the sound of the doppler each time R or N checked Edgar’s heart rate after each session of pushing. One memory snippet I have from this time is holding the safety bar beside the toilet and Cy’s hand being over mine as I pushed.
It was rather surreal to me at the time that between contractions, with Edgar firmly wedged 90% of the way down her birth canal, Vanessa was laughing along with the silly conversations we were having. Three people sitting on the floor in a darkened bathroom, gathered around a pregnant lady on a toilet. Having a great time.
At one point, N held my hand and told me to reach down. I could feel Edgar’s head beneath my hand. It was exhilarating to know that my baby was right there and was so close to crowning. This motivated me to keep on going.
Except for when N needed to get in a better position to shine her light and see, I was positioned right in front and watching every millimeter of progress. With every contraction, I could see Edgar’s head come down and reach the point of progress from the previous push. Just when I thought Vanessa had run out of energy for that push, she’d give it two or three more seconds, and Edgar would make it the tiniest bit further than he had previously. Then the contraction would end and he would move back in a centimetre or two. This was how it continued until it was clear he had made it past the turn and wasn’t slipping back.
Finally, N told me that we needed to move to either the bed or the tub; Edgar was about to crown. DH and N helped me very awkwardly waddle to the bed. If you’ve never tried to walk around with a baby about to crown, I wouldn’t really recommend it. It was truly the strangest and most uncomfortable sensation I’d ever experienced. As Forrest Gump so eloquently put it, “That’s all I have to say about that”.
N and R told me to lie on the bed partially on my back and partially on my side. DH was beside me holding my left foot and R was on my right holding the other foot up in the air. I was able to push my legs against them with every contraction to gain some leverage for each push. Once I was in position on the bed, it was full steam ahead.
It was another bout of progress made up of millimetres. As before, it was a constant back and forth, with only the tiniest bit of progress for every incredible push. Each time he would slip back a centimetre or two, then get pushed back to that same point… then a tiny bit more- and then back a centimetre or two again. I was right there, this time the lights were on nice and bright in the bedroom, and I was in prime viewing position. It was all so intense to watch, each time a little bit closer to crowning before falling back. There were a few times I caught myself crushing Vanessa’s hand in my own once the contraction ended. My apologies went as unnoticed as the hand-crushing itself; Vanessa’s attention was otherwise occupied.
All throughout this, N was doing her best to hold hot compresses to Vanessa’s perineum. The warmer it was, the more it could stretch, and the less likely it would be to tear. It was a lost cause. I’ll never forget the look on her face when our eyes met and she knew there was nothing she could do, and it just ever-so-gradually tore right in front of her.
I continued to keep up the same pace I had before with pushing until N told me all of a sudden to stop. She sounded very serious, so I did as she said.
It is astounding that Vanessa was able to stop in that instant. It really was the exact moment that Edgar’s head crowned, and then everything and everyone in the room froze at once.
N told me to cough a couple times. Again, I did as she said. After a few coughs and some gentle pushes, Edgar’s head popped out. Again, I was told to stop. After what I assume was N checking for a cord, I was told to just go ahead and push, not even waiting for contractions at this point. With a few big pushes, Edgar’s shoulders and the rest of his body came out. Suddenly, at 7:27AM on November 5, Edgar was born! Edgar was placed, wet and screaming, onto my chest right away. My first thoughts were, “You’re finally here!”, followed by “Oh my god you’re huge!”. I could see the folds of chub on his arms and that’s what clued me in on just how big he was… that, and DH and the midwives exclaiming how big he was. He scored a 9 and then a 10 on his APGAR.
It would almost seem as though Vanessa’s recollections of this moment are clearer than my own. I was awash with different thoughts and emotions. I was overwhelmed. As a result, to this day I am at a complete loss when it comes to describing this moment. What were my first thoughts when I watched him being born? Nothing. Everything.
I was given a shot of oxytocin to help deliver the placenta, something that we had decided on ahead of time due to the risks associated with bleeding and my borderline low iron. This ended up being entirely uneventful and the placenta was delivered with no problems. Before delivering the placenta, N helped me get Edgar latched to breastfeed. Edgar ended up breastfeeding for a good hour while I was checked and stitched up. It was an inch-long 2nd degree tear that ended up healing up wonderfully. Even now, just a month later, I barely feel like I had even torn at all.
N and R did not want to separate Edgar from me until he had sufficient time to breastfeed, even though we were feeling impatient and wanting to find out how much Edgar weighed. Finally, after my tear was stitched up, N took Edgar over to the heated table to do the post-birth checks. We were curious to find out just how much this big little guy weighed. We all were amazed; Edgar weighed 4850 grams, or 10 lbs 11 oz, and was 52 cm, or 20.5 inches, long. He was apparently the first 10+ lbs baby N had delivered.
I was helped up and got dressed in my going-home outfit while N held Edgar and filled out more paperwork. After a short and unproductive visit to the bathroom, I sat down in a rocking chair in the bedroom. DH brought me tea and toast and loaded Edgar into the carseat. My mother’s flight from Vancouver landed as Edgar was born, so we made our way out and picked her up from the airport on the way home, just 2 hours after giving birth.
Then, we went home.
We were home for the first time as our own little family.
