The Homebirth of Lucky No. 3
“FUCK.” It was Good Friday and we were having an early Easter dinner at our house with family. I was 37 weeks and 7 days pregnant with our third baby and had just gotten one of those tell-tale signs that birth was starting. Unlike many (most?) other pregnant women who are at the end of their pregnancies, I was in no hurry to have this baby out. In fact, I’d been strategizing for months, with my Naturopath, how to stay pregnant passed my due date. Carter was just over three. Lily almost 18 months. And I wanted all the extra time I could get to have the “big two” grow up just a smidgen more before the new baby came. “Nana Angel” (Derek’s mom’s) birthday was just 5 short days past my due date. I would have loved for this baby to share her birthday or, at the very least, her birthday month. With that being said, being Easter weekend, I had a feeling this baby was coming. I’d said as much to the midwife at, what ended up being, our last prenatal appointment. Carter was born on Halloween, Lily was due on Thanksgiving and, despite my best efforts, it seemed fitting that this baby would come on another notable day
37 weeks 7 days with baby #3. He was born 15 hours later (right in that shower behind me!).
I made my way to the bathroom with my sister-in-law close behind me. She brought me clean clothes, which I changed into. Then, I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine and, as all three of the other adults in the room stared at me inquisitively, drank it. I was daring the labour to start but hoping the wine would relax me enough to stop whatever was happening (I know it sounds crazy but this was advice given to me by a midwife when I was pregnant with Lily. She said if you’re wondering whether it’s the real deal, try to “stop it” by taking a Tylenol, having a bath and drinking a small glass of wine - if you’re still feeling sensations once you get out, it’s happening. Maybe run this strategy by your own midwife before trying it yourself).
While I had been feeling little crampy sensations all through dinner, they all but disappeared as we put Carter and Lily to bed and got into bed ourselves. I was feeling more and more optimistic that this was just primordial labour. Primordial labour is like false labour. It starts and stops over a period of days or weeks, usually happening at night, and is quite common with subsequent babies (and something no sane pregnant person actually hopes for!). We turned off the light. I tried to go to sleep.
…Aaaaaand was woken up about an hour later. I was still in denial. Still clinging onto the hope that by morning the sensations would ease up. I woke Derek up and told him I was going downstairs and made my way to the birth ball. It didn’t take me long to figure out there was no denying it. This baby was picking their own date for their own birthday.
A couple hours later, my mom had arrived to sleep in the spare room and be on big kid duty. The midwife I’d hoped would be on call was and she was on route after I, hesitantly, told her I thought she should start heading over. I was hesitant because I really wasn’t sure. I was managing through contractions quite well, yet something told me I still wanted her there (side note: this is ALWAYS the right time to ask your support team to join you). She slipped inside from the darkness of the night and joined us in our dimly light room, watching as midwives do, to try and get a feel of where I was. After a few contractions, she asked if I wanted to be checked to have an idea about where things were at. We were all shocked when she pegged me at around 8 centimeters (“You can hardly tell you’re in labour!” was her response). Using my crockpot trick (that you can read about on my blog), I was aware that I was managing the sensations quite well but even I was surprised to hear things were that far along. I thought this last little stretch would be just that – little – and that I was nearly done. Now that I know where I was, dilation-wise, I felt comfortable moving into the shower. The shower was my was my last-resort coping tool. And once I got in, I wasn’t getting out, so it was really important to time that transfer well.
Of course, sometimes it happens that you have one plan and Birth has another. That was the case here. It took me awhile – way longer than I expected – to finish dilating. The sun was up and I remember wondering why on earth this was taking so long – it was my THIRD baby and I’d, easily, been labouring longer than I had with Lily. At this point, this thing should just fall out!
A little bit of background here: I did not use a doula with this birth as I had with Carter and Lily. Why? Because Derek had a false understanding about the intensity of birth. I attributed this to a doula doing most of the support with my first two births (which, at the time, I’d wanted). This time, I wanted him to get a really good idea about all the work that birth entailed – so I made him my doula. You should also know that this decision was a questionable one because Derek doesn’t handle birth well. In fact, if you birth with a certain group of midwives, there’s a chance you’ve heard about the husband who rocked, head-in-hands, in the corner of the bathroom during his wife’s first homebirth. So, now you understand why one midwife openly laughed during our prenatal visit when I shared my plan to have Derek be my doula… before asking if I really thought it was a good idea!
Anyways, in this moment – as the sun is coming up and I’m wondering why this is taking so long and losing steam – is when I really missed having my doula. I needed someone to remind me that time was not the enemy here. Time was my friend. Without my doula there to remind me that birth has no timeline, I was in a hurry to have this end. I was ready to move on to the next stage and I wasn’t ready to wait for my body to catch up. So, I fibbed and said the magic words that no one can resist getting excited over: “I feel like I need to push.” The midwife checked me and said there was still a little bit of lip (cervical) there but I could start pushing if I felt like that was what I needed to do. So, I did. And an hour later – longer than both my first and second births – I was still pushing.
The reality is it had not been time for me to start pushing – I jumped the gun because I was tired. And I was not relaxed in this moment. Derek’s exhaustion and desire to wrap this little up was written all over his face. I felt the same. I knew Carter and Lily were awake downstairs and was worried about what they might be hearing. By now, I’d been in the shower longer than I had while in labour with Lily and I was TERRIFIED that the hot water would run out. This decision to start pushing, when I probably would have been better served to hold off until my body was pushing on its own, was a lesson that I pass along to anyone who will listen! By starting to push early and while tense I (in my opinion) prolonged the pushing stage which exhausted me… which then made the pushing less effective… and so on.
The moment that makes it all worth it
He did join us, that baby of ours. Just Derek and I in the shower as he came into the world. We finally got to hear what we’d been dying to know for the last ten months – that he was a he! The moment I’d been waiting for (besides baby being born, of course) was when I got to hand off the baby so I could stand up, shower everything off and climb into bed. Anyone who’s birthed at home will tell you this is THE best part – and it really is!
If they’re being honest, I think each time a parent welcomes a second or third or fourth baby, there is a little bit of apprehension about whether they will love the new baby as much as the love the older ones. And this was true for me, as well. But when I was settled in bed and able to hold him and just look at him – it was instantaneous. I was just completely enamored with him. I remember Derek commenting: “Wow, you REALLY like him, don’t you?!” And I did. I felt the bond with him – third baby and all – immediately. And not at a cost of my affection of the first two, which is really the true beauty of it, isn’t it? There was absolutely a sense of completeness that hadn’t been there following my first two births. It was like the room was filled with wholeness and unity.
This had been my third birth. My second homebirth. And the first birth where I hadn’t used a doula. Where I’d pushed the longest. Where I didn’t feel like I’d conquered the world. In all honesty, in the days that followed, I felt a little defeated. When I told my former doula about this, she suggested I talk to the attending midwife and get her perspective. When I did this, her feelings about the birth, namely the pushing stage, was the same as mine: “You were tired, and you weren’t into it. You weren’t as relaxed.” Bang on. I hadn’t been into it from the moment it had started - remember, I’d tried to “stop it.” We’d been up for over 24 hours and were, rightfully, tired. My mind was in other places (Derek’s needs, the big kids’ needs, the hot water supply) and it made me tense. It just goes to show how important the environment and mental component of birth is.
Ultimately, the experience from this birth has significantly shaped how I approach birth as a doula – maybe more so than my first two. With respect for the process and with a better understanding that birth is an entity distinct to that individual experience. With the recognition that all births are unique, they don’t necessarily follow a pattern. And with, guess what, I know nothing about the specifics of this particular birth besides the fact that the baby will eventually come out!.
This birth humbled me and, sometimes, the greatest lessons are ones learned from humility. In hindsight, this birth was exactly what I needed it to be and, by recognizing this, there are no more feelings of defeat - only appreciation and peace. Now, what life would be like with three kids three and under? Well, that’s a whole different story!