Inspiration

Birth Stories

Max Wilson

Max Wilson M. was born April 11, at 2:38 am. That's a Friday, and the day before I opted not to go to my prenatal yoga class because I "wasn't feeling well."

Actually, I had started having contractions sometime shortly after lunch. I didn't think it might be the real thing, because I had been having sporadic painful contractions for the preceding two weeks, and these felt exactly the same (at least initially). I finished work, came home, walked the dog. Talked to my husband and encouraged him to go biking (he went 70 miles/ 3 hours), even though I wasn't feeling that great, because, again, I was oblivious. I finished my book I was reading, watched some tv. By the time Patrick got home at 8pm (requiring bandaging, I might add, from a bike wreck), the contractions were coming close enough and strong enough that we figured out something serious was happening... but still, they were not regular, either in time or severity. I would have one pair ten minutes apart, then the next one minute apart-- The midwife had warned me that labor contractions are not always as neatly timed as the books lead you to believe, but she said what they use to determine real labor from "false labor" was that they increased in severity. Again, my contractions chose not to be consistent in any way for quite a while.

Around nine we talked to the midwife. She determined yes, I was in labor, but I still did not go into the hospital, because I figured I'd be more comfortable at home than at the hospital. By the end of the night, we basically had a labor station set up in the middle of our living room floor, where I spent most of the night on my hands and knees. Our dog was quite confused at our break from our usual routine, but she slept companionably next to us. Finally, at midnight, we called the midwife again and said we'd meet her at the hospital. After feeding the animals, packing the car, we finally rolled out of the house thirty minutes later. By this point, I was urging Patrick to drive faster and run the red lights. We got to the hospital, (with me contracting quite vocally in the emergency room while we checked in) and got to our room. As the nurse tried to take my blood pressure and the midwife was monitoring the baby's heart beat, I informed her I was ready to push. The midwife asked me to wait while she quickly checked my cervix, then said, "Yep, you're dialated 10 centimeters, go right ahead!" An hour and a half passed-- which felt like both a fleeting moment and an agonizing eternity-- and we met our baby boy for the first time.

I surprised myself by making it through labor without any drugs. In the last months of pregnancy, I was not altogether confident regarding my ability to tolerate pain, and did not have a specific agenda on whether I would try to go drug-free or not. What will happen will happen, was my general mode of thinking. Above all else, I credit that aspect of the event to the fact I got to the hospital so far into the labor. I largely credit my ability to manage the contractions at home for so long with being prepared mentally by learning all that I did about labor and hearing birth stories from others, primarily through our prenatal yoga class.

The entire experience was amazing, utterly surreal, and ultimately indescribable. The feeling of surrealness lasted, as I kept looking at Max and saying, "I can't believe just yesterday you were in my belly." Then, "I can't believe you were in my belly just a few days ago . . ." And now, "I can't believe only five weeks ago you were still in my belly . . ." As momentous and incredible as Max's birth was, it was just the first chapter of our adventure together as a family, and I look forward to meeting the person the little guy grows up to be.

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