Lincoln James: Birth Story

One year ago today at 38 weeks pregnant I awoke to what I thought would be a normal Saturday. Husband was working until that evening and I, having left work the previous week, had been busy painting and attempting to clean our entire apartment in some primal unspoken attempt to prepare our world to receive a baby in a couple of weeks (or longer). Or so I thought. I began noticing contractions for the first time that morning. I had been working rather hard on the apartment and was sure they were Braxton Hicks contractions. I spent most of that day cleaning in between irregular contractions. I spoke with my mom and my doula and they both told me it was probably nothing. My contractions continued through the night and I slept as much as I could. They were still so irregular, I wasn't sure if they would abruptly stop as I had heard false labor can do and I didn't feel like having a bunch of people fawning over me. (I mean, I was just having a baby.  All you can do is ride the ride. ) So, Sunday I sent husband off to work assuring him all would be fine. The more work he missed before baby cut into the time he could be home after baby. I kept my phone close and texted and checked in with my doula regularly. She began to indicate that this might be it, but I felt a need to be private. I didn't want anyone around. I wasn't afraid really. I think I would have felt less able to fully succumb and experience my body going through the changes of birth with an audience. I walked up and down the stairs, attempted to eat and sleep, swayed, and tried as hard as I could to keep my tone low low loooowwww. I did some exercises for optimally positioning the baby as my doula feared my irregular contractions indicted a posterior baby. I just kept visualizing a healthy baby in the right position and let my body do it's thing. While I was still having contractions, my water had yet to break so I wasn't sure if labor would last days more or if things were going to move more quickly. Husband got home around five thirty and immediately began trying to get me food/ figure out what to do/ get our dogs squared away/ freaking out about his birthing wife. My water broke not long after, although not completely, so I wasn't sure about it. But after that things went into overdrive. I finally asked my doula to come and by the time she got there 30 minutes later she could tell it was go time. She kept trying to get me to go to the car to go to the birth center, but my contractions were coming so fast and strong and I just NEEDED to poop. (Uh oh.) That transition seemed like the looongest 20 minutes of my life. Once I was finally in the car I remember barreling down Broadway with my head out of the window of our old Volvo yelling with contractions (because our car would overheat if we didn't keep the heater on full blast at all times.) Looking over at a brief stop I remember seeing a young guy gawking. It was only seven thirty or eight in the evening and I was certain I was going to "poop" in the car. When we got to the birth center I was met by my nurse and midwife. They heard me coming.  I kept asking to go potty first but they knew better. I was ushered to the Blue Room, climbed on a birthing ball, and was immediately given the go ahead to push. He was definitely not posterior and he was ready to come! Everything was a blur from there, I remember vividly the "ring of fire" and I did have some tearing. I remember Aubrey asking if I wanted to touch his head, but mostly I just wanted to push. All that seems clear is seeing my son's face for the first time. My water broke at 6:30 pm and by 9:20 pm I was holding my perfect little peanut of a boy to my chest. Then all of a sudden it was 2 am and time for our little family to go home. But not without a stop for some dinner! I was so hungry! I ended up calling my mom from the McDonald's parking lot to tell her I was sitting next to her grandson. Then we went home and the real fun began. My birth was nothing like the gentle water birth I imagined where you labor at the birth center between snacks of apples and cheese with crackers. My birth (as with all birth) was so intensely personal. It has taken me a year to really be able to write about it.  It was something that my son and I shared. I wouldn't change a thing. Except that in hindsight, knowing that I had an uncomplicated birth, I wish I had given birth at home. To avoid that awful car ride. But that is neither here nor there. And here we are, one year down, still breast feeding, and learning from each other every day. Simultaneously the quickest and longest year of my life. But that is another story all together...

Yours is the first face that I saw. I think I was blind before I met you.