As always, it was all in the Lord's hands.
I woke up on Saturday, September 12th, still pregnant. A few days prior I had made a list of things to look forward to each day since I was now past my due date. The 'thing to look forward to' for Saturday was treating myself to Dutch Bros with a free coupon I had. Originally I planned to use that coupon after the baby was born, but that's not how it worked out.
The drink was delicious and went along like any other Saturday. As we drove to Mass Anthony, my husband, remarked that he had been very productive during the day. I said, "I've read 65 pages of my book and had zero babies, but the day is not over yet!"
We got to Mass and, as usual, our pastor told me not to have the baby at Mass. I, like every week before, told him that if the baby started coming that I wasn't stopping her, no matter where I was. He told me that he wasn't actually saying Mass that night so if I went into labor it wouldn't be his problem.
Go figure that during the homily I had three contractions fairly close together. I'd been having contractions off and on for a month but none so close as those. My husband asked me if we should leave and, in no uncertain terms, I told him that I wanted to receive the Eucharist.
After Mass we went out to dinner as a family and I had a few more contractions. There was one particularly strong one as we stood in the buffet line and everything in my being wanted to leave. It passed and I was able to eat and we got the kids fed while they intently watched me.
Thankfully my mother in law was already in town and able to help get the kids fed and finish up dinner. I began texting my midwife but still wasn't sure I was ready to head to the birth center - the last thing I wanted was to get there and have these contractions fizzle out and be sent home. Anthony, on the other hand, was eager to drop the kids at home so we could head straight to the birth center.
We finished eating and drove home. The contractions were getting longer but there was more time between them so I wasn't sure what would happen, even though Anthony was more convinced than ever that we needed to get to the birth center (and if you've read any of my other birth stories then you know that this is quite typical!).
I told him that I needed a few minutes to transition my mind from Mass to dinner to giving birth before I was ready to leave. We grabbed the birth bag and left the kids at home with my mother in law.
On the way to the birth center I listened to "Old Pickup" by Dierks Bentley on repeat - it was calming and just what I needed as Anthony navigated traffic and intense rain. We arrived just after 7:30pm. Like my fourth birth (at the same birth center!) I wanted to walk around in laps.
My midwife asked me if I'd like her to check my dilation but I declined - I didn't want to be disappointed, I just wanted to keep laboring. So Anthony and I walked, I'd stop and lean on him as the contractions got stronger.
It didn't seem to take long before I asked for the birth ball so I could labor on all fours on the bed. I clung to the idea that I needed to be a rag doll, loose and relaxed, letting the contractions wash over me like waves in the ocean.
As is our usual, Anthony began praying Hail Marys through each contraction - the cadence of the prayer becomes my rhythm for breathing through the contractions.
After laboring like this for a little while (seriously, don't ask me times, I stopped looking at the clock!), I told Anthony that I was ready to have the midwife help me into other positions to move labor along.
Before I knew my midwife came in with the peanut birthing ball and I (internally? externally?) groaned. I have a love/hate relationship with the peanut but got into position to move baby further down. I endured two contractions like that and told myself I could do one more before I wanted to be back on all fours.
That third contraction with the peanut was intense and I was ready to be back on all fours - the peanut had done its job. I remember being frustrated and worried about how much harder things would get because I knew my water hadn't even broken yet. I also remember telling Anthony that I didn't want to do this. Not that I couldn't do it, but that I just didn't want to. I also knew that reaching that place likely meant I was in/near transition.
Then I started to shake. I'd have a contraction and get really hot, then it would end and I'd be cold and shaking - not something I'd experienced in any of my other labors.
The pain got worse and I started to make more audible noises. After half of a higher pitched moan I caught myself and remembered that lower tones help, so I lowered my register and did my best to make it through just one more contraction at a time.
Still knowing my water hadn't broken, I wondered how much longer this would go on. My midwife said I'd feel a splash and then her head would be out.
I honestly don't remember the splash at all. My water broke on its own at 10:05pm and I began to push. I was expecting her to come out easier than she did (with my second and fourth births pushing was quick or the result of the fetal ejection reflex!), which is why I frustratingly asked, "IS SHE STUCK!?"
The midwife replied that she wasn't stuck, she was coming out perfectly I just needed to keep pushing. Silly me, I was focusing on enduring the next contraction, not pushing, so once I remembered that I had to push she came out. Two contractions worth of pushing and Eden was born at 10:08pm, 7lbs, 15ozs, 20 inches long and a full head of hair, yet another first!
Labor, as always, was a wild ride, but after she was born I couldn't stop saying, "I did it!!" I think this time, even more that my four other labors, I felt ridiculously accomplished at having given birth.
Bring on the baby snuggles!
