···Mama Scribble···: Sabrina's Birth: An unexpected arrival

Sabrina's pregnancy brought a tsunami of complicated emotions for me.
Since I'd had a miscarriage almost one year prior to her conception, I was nothing less than a worrier with a 'bump.' My biggest angst with her pregnancy was 'making it' to full term.
I didn't want to lose another baby.

{Pregnant in Paris}

November 2003. I was 6 months pregnant with Sabrina and very tired.
That's the Louvre behind me.

{Musée D'Orsay: Paris, France}

I loved walking the streets of Paris while being in full gestating bloom but when I visited the museums, I took 20 minute naps on any ottoman or bench I found.

Sleepy was an understatement.

On January 7th, 2004, I woke up feeling emotionally down. I don't know why because I was only tired and swollen and always hungry and did I mention, tired?

I ate a slice of cinnamon swirl toast lathered in nutella spread for breakfast (I'd pay for that later!) while listening to Norah Jones on my iMac. I was in a crabby mood, nevertheless.

Aside from being in a terrible mood that day, I was obsessed with having to go shop for baby booties and newborn hats. No idea why this was a huge 'to do' being that I was so very tired.
Regardless of all this, I ended up dragging my mother out with me to TJMaxx.

The entire time I was shopping I was having low back pain and some little cramps here and there. The baby was constantly moving about. Oddly enough, in addition to shopping for baby booties and newborn hats, I also shopped for after delivery pajama's. While shopping, I kept telling my mom that my low back hurt but I immediately blew them off as 'normal pregnancy' symptoms.

Just before we were about to pay, I mention to my mom that I needed to use the restroom. So I waddled my way to the back of the store with what I thought was the need to relieve my very full bladder.

My khaki maternity pants were way past my knees as I attempted to half squat over the toilet when I noticed a drip, drip, drip. 'Not normal', I immediately thought.

'I think I'm dripping' I told my mom.

'What? Dripping? What do you mean?' She questioned hysterically.

'Mom, yes, dripping. You need to relax.' I told her.
You'd think that the nervous one at that moment would be the very pregnant woman with her pants down to her ankles and an uncontrollable drip? Ha! Right!

'Well...what'r going to do?' She nervously asked.

'I need to call Sheila' I said.

Sheila was our midwife. We had been planning a homebirth all along. I spoke too soon because the first person I ended up call was darling hubby.

'Hello?' He said.

'Honey, I think my water broke.' I said in my calmest voice.

'What? Oh shit. Did you call Sheila?' He panicked.

'No, not yet.' I responded.

'Okay, you call her and then call me back.' He said trying to sound completely in control but I knew better.

Of course I KNEW what my midwife would say to to me once she'd learn that I was potentially leaking amniotic fluid. I was not happy. Not one bit. Since I was 3 days shy of 35 weeks, I knew that I'd HAVE to go to the hospital because in my state, a woman MUST be 37 weeks or more in order to deliver her baby at home with a midwife.

In a matter of minutes my baby had changed all of our plans. FYI, birth plans are never etched in stone. My BIG lesson here.

Since I knew that I wasn't leaking pee, I waddled my way back to the front of the store with my mother. Never mind the huge wet spot on my khaki maternity pants I was sporting while shoppers just starred at me hoping I wasn't going to plop, squat and push my baby out right THERE in front of them. Still, so embarrassing.

We made it home. I was scared. Really, really scared because I was still not due for another five + weeks. I lost my mucous plug at home after going to the bathroom and my crazy dog was trying to lick up my amniotic fluid off of the bathroom floor, "No! Miss Goldie!"

The back up OB called and asked me to go to the hospital within the next hour or so.

I cried while I laid on my side. I whimpered for the home birth I knew I wasn't going to have.
I was terrified of having a baby too vulnerable to live outside of my womb.
It was a heart wrenching feeling to go through.

My normally frenetic mother carefully packed my hospital bag and even remembered to pack my make-up and warm fuzzy socks. She'd later surprise me even more when she'd show me that she'd also brought my 'Birth Art' (from my Birthing From Within class) for me to look at during my labor.
I was so proud of her for being so helpful and quick thinking.

DH and I headed to the nearest hospital and I was given a wheelchair upon arrival. Next, my leaky fluid was tested to confirm that it was indeed my amniotic sack that had ruptured.

It was.

I was admitted and before I knew it, I was hooked up, IV'd and pinned to a bed. Yes, 'pinned' because they did not let me get up ONCE to pee in privacy, let alone the freedom to walk. Awful.

I was not having a positive hospital 'labor' experience. I ran a low grade fever and soon thereafter was put on an antibiotic drip, 'in case' of infection. (I'll save the worry and tell you now that I nor baby had an infection. It was simply 'protocol' on the hospital's part.)

The worst part for me was having the nurses randomly come in, slip on a latex glove, slather their latex'd finger tips with cold K-Y Jelly and say 'We're going to check you now, mommy.'
A feeling beyond uncomfortable. I didn't like that part either.

A few hours after I was hooked up to monitors, the back up OB ordered a 'Pitocin' (PIT) drip to be started. I refused an epidural.

The 'real' pain didn't get started until that terrible PIT got working into my system and uterus.

I. Wanted. To. Die.

But still, I refused that pesky epidural because at THAT point, I had no idea just terrible the PIT was going to make me feel. Truly. No. Clue.

The night continued on and I rode each contraction with a deep 'humming' sound that I carried from my pelvic floor up and out through my throat. My visual was 'an opening flower' and an 'open' and safe passage for my baby to come through. Visuals helped me tremendously during my labor. That, plus the instrumental music that wonderful DH remembered to bring to the hospital. Thank goodness!

January 8th around 9:30 a.m. & beyond

My contractions are so intense I cannot cry. Instead, I whimper a like a puppy needing its mother. I whimper from the harsh pain that invades my uterus, my lower back and my baby. I cannot escape the pain. I sit with it like a thrumming engine that will not cool down.

My labor music plays subtly in the background. Soft notes played by wind chimes, flutes and tibetan prayer bells. I carry myself with each individual chime whenever a deep contraction begins.

I cannot move from my bed. I cannot wriggle my baby through the birth canal into a better position because the hospital has limited my movement.

I am on my back. It hurts to lay down. My body does not want to be in this stifling position.
I resist to conform to what the nurses 'want' for me to do. I'm listening to my body and my baby, not the nurses.

The nurse continues to ask me if I want an epidural. "No, I'm sure." I say firmly. Her voice, like a distant echo I do not want to comply with. My husband is by my side, he's rubbing and soothing the pain shooting from my sacrum and breathes along with me through each intense contraction.
I squeeze his hand so tightly, I leave the imprints of my swollen fingers in his palm.

I feel like a wounded animal unable to do much but BE with the pain.

I've been given a sedative that makes me groggy. It shoots up my IV like an unstoppable force. I cannot keep my eyes open. I feel drunk. I don't like the feeling and the pain is more intense.

The OB walks in and attempts to instruct me on how to birth my baby. He is a 'man' but still, he gives me instructions. "Oh shut up you idiot!", I tell him 'in my mind' because he'll never know this kind of pain or this amount of unrelenting intensity, ever. The mind shuts off in labor. It's not an intellectual act, it's a physical force to be reckoned with.

I am in a dance with my baby. No one else will 'do' this for me. I know I am strapped to a bed but my mind and body imagines a beautiful dance with my baby. We are both working together to meet one another, a painful but most anticipated welcoming into the world. We are both very tired, still.

I'm in an out of groggy sleep and I want to meet my baby. I begin to push without instruction.
My body takes over and all of my mind shuts off.

I'm scared but I push.

I'm scared but I listen to my body.

I'm scared but I intuitively 'know' what I'm doing. This amazes and bewilders me.

I close my eyes tightly. I don't make a sound. I push with all the force I can muster down to my bottom. I'm sending love down to my baby for a safe passage through me.
I am the vessel within which is honored and blessed to carry this incredible feat forward.

Strength and love envelopes my baby and me.

I feel a powerful heat rising to my face as I push with a sort of strength that only nature and the mysteries of life has granted me. I'm incredibly exhausted but still, full of strength and elation to bring my baby forth.

My mind is not thinking, only my body working together with my baby.
I'm in blissful shock from the unimaginable strength that nature has bestowed upon my body.

As my body and my 'will' pushes with each contraction, I soon feel a burning sensation from the baby's head crowing. It's what I've heard the midwife call, 'the ring of fire' and I welcome it because I know that I'll soon meet my baby.

The room was saturated in the early morning sunlight as I danced my baby out into the world.
We danced while others watched us, breathing along, anticipating the arrival while we worked incredibly hard.

"Open your eyes, mommy", I hear the OB say to me. "Feel your baby's head!", others say.
But I cannot open my eyes because somewhere deep down inside of me I'm still scared and cannot understand what I have been able to do with my body. Nerves still exist in spite of the courage and strength I've mustered up.

"One more strong push, mommy!", the OB cheers on. Within minutes of my last strong push, I feel my baby's entire body slip out of me.

Relief overcomes me.

I've birthed my baby.

Immediately, my body releases more of the wonderful hormone 'oxytocin' in copious amounts. The 'love' hormone. The pain subsides... the physical work ends... and I cannot wait to 'see' my baby.

"Open your eyes, see your baby, it's a girl!" says the OB. I peel my eyes open and reach down to receive my seconds old baby girl. "Oh, it's my princess Sabrina! Hello, my Sabrina!" I elatedly exclaim to my new baby.

Tears fill my tired eyes. My heart is swollen with joy and love and pure bliss.
This day marks a moveable miracle in my life.

The birth of my first daughter and myself, as a new mother.
I am forever changed.

On Thursday, January 8, 2004 @ 10:56 a.m., while the brilliant sun spilled into the delivery room, my splendid daughter, Sabrina Isabella was born.
A brilliant star in our lives and a most genuine and humble soul to many.