My eyes popped open at 2 AM. "My
water has broken," I thought incoherently as I rushed upstairs.
When I got to the bathroom, my pulse pounded but I realized, duh, my
water had clearly not broken since... I wasn't wet anywhere. But I
could feel a few mild contractions, real ones, not just Braxton/Hicks tightenings. After I
settled down a bit, I got myself some warm milk and went downstairs
to rest. As for the past few days, sleep felt impossible because I
felt like I had to dang pee every five minutes. I laid there awake,
feeling contractions come and go.
Just the night before, at my Primary Presidency
meeting, I had announced that this baby was in no rush and I didn't
plan to have it any time soon. Too much to do! With Jed, birth had
been a violent, immediate whirlwind. But with Zoe Ann I had been
through weeks and weeks of early labor ("False" labor my
foot! It's the same as the real thing, it just doesn't go
anywhere...) before she came all at once. So far, in this pregnancy,
I'd had no early labor at all to speak of. I was still 9 days before
my due date, and the pattern for my kids seemed to be later and
later.
So I lay there for a while, and tried
to sleep through the contractions. When I laid down, they slowed, so
I assumed they were doing nowhere. 14 minutes between contractions
doesn't impress me much. But I was still getting up every five
minutes to pee, so there was plenty of time to think about it. For
kicks, I downloaded a contractions timing app on M's cell phone (Hey!
There's an app for that!) I finally got about an hour of sleep.
At 5:20 or so,I woke up, the
contractions resumed but were a little stronger. Hmmm. This could
be it, I thought. As I lay there, I felt a little movement. I sat
up. The baby started to move. I've never felt movement like that --
wiggling, turning, twisting, churning, arranging -- and at that
moment I felt my baby communicate with me. I caught my breath. That
moving felt like talking, from child to mother, telling me that baby
was getting in position because it was time. The night before, I'd
been reading about pelvis structures and how the baby turns position
during labor, and when the baby moved I could clearly feel it turning
into position, settling into the pelvis, ready for birth. (Looking
back, I think also it was baby moving his nuchal hand, since when he
was born and still 6 weeks later, he always rests with his hand up
next to his cheek. Thanks for moving that sucker, Zane, because I
really don't ever want to birth a hand. I also think the nuchal hand
is why the baby never really dropped or had any early labor, he was
caught up too high.)
I went upstairs to take a shower.
Taking a hot shower is my own personal birthing ritual, I don't know
why I like it so much, but I do. I felt calm, and a little excited.
When I got out, the contractions were starting to rock and roll. But
they were still much too short to be "real" labor (or so my
textbooks tell me) so I took my time. I went downstairs and sat next to Michael. it was about 5:50.
He turned over groggily. "What are you doing up?" I
smiled a goofy grin. "I think it's baby time!" He jumped
out of bed, a giant smile on his face. "REALLY!? How far along
are you?" "Ummm, I 'm not sure exactly but it's movin'
along."
He rushed upstairs. He knew as well as
I did that we were totally unprepared for this. I'd done an excellent
job of making myself and everyone else sure that this baby was going
to come late. I had packed my bags a couple days before, but only in
ritual, not in actual anticipation. We still didn't have our new
carseats we ordered online (skinny ones to fit three across the back.) We hadn't set
up anything. No idea where the crib was.
Good thing Granny had sent us a huge box of diapers or we wouldn't
have any of those either. Laughing at ourselves, we started
gathering this and that. "Should I call my mom?" he asked.
"Ummmm, I don't know." "Well, are you getting
close?" "I don't know." At this point, Michael
became alarmed. He knows from experience and training that when I
start saying "I don't know" that I am heading into
transition. He called his mom. A few hard contractions later I went
in to him and said "I think you should call your mom."
Giving me his sweetest "No DUH!" look he gave me a hug.
"She's on her way."
I started moaning. Then I started
roaring. Michael became even more alarmed as I hung on him for each
contraction. "Get out in the car!" he said. "No! I
hate the car!" There was no way I was having one of these
contractions in the car. We went out in the driveway where I started
scaring the neighbors. They aren't used to a half-dressed roaring
fat lady, even if we are a little redneck out here.
Michael called his mom. "Where
are you?" She was five minutes away, on I-164. "Michael,
we HAVE TO GO I AM FEELING PUSHY!" He called her again, "We
are leaving the kids. We'll see you on the way!"
So I climbed in the car and we left Jed and Zoe sleeping in their beds. We wave to Grandma as she screams in
from the opposite direction. On the way there, as I'm howling away
in the passenger seat, Michael says "Well, are we going fast
enough!?" I looked at the speedometer. 50 in a 30 zone. "NO
GO FASTER!!!" He got it up to 70. This is why we go to the
close hospital. We screeched into the hospital labor entrance and I
run inside. The lady asks for my name. I lean over and put my head
on her desk, roaring like a mad woman, and I'm pretty sure at that
point she said "Oh, my." Nurses started rushing in from
the other rooms, hearing a familiar sound, and half carried, half
pulled me into triage. In the back of my mind I giggled. "Hey,
I guess we CAN skip registration!"
Who is your doctor? Blanke. Get up on
the bed, we need to check you! I don't want a check. I want to squat
because this baby is coming now. We ask for a squat bar. They
refrain from laughing in our faces and point out there really isn't
time. She checks me, doesn't say a thing, mutters something to the
other nurse and the room goes from busy to absolute chaos. It's
precisely 6:30 AM, right at shift change for the nurses, and later
our nurse told me she came running in from the parking lot straight
into my room. Two minutes and two pushes later, my water breaks.
one push later, and four minutes after arrival and "check in,"
Baby Zane Ephraim Stanfill comes rushing into the world. Crying,
shouting for joy, at the same time Michael and I proclaimed, "It's
a baby boy! Our own baby boy!"
Ten minutes later my panting doctor
shows up. He didn't even know which patient I was, because at the
time of birth nobody knew my name.
By then, baby is happily nursing, I'm
beaming, the nurses are all giggling, and the sun is rising. What a
great day. Happy Birthday, Baby Zane!
Postscript: A few technical notes
about the birth. One of the best parts was thanks to an awesome
nurse and plenty of craziness, I got to pull the baby right onto my
chest after the birth and they let me keep him there, nursing dozily
and adoring him, for almost two hours, at which point the nurse said
that administration had called her three times screaming for some
statistics so they can legally say the baby had been born and know
who we were... so when we were done nursing would we mind letting her
weigh and measure him? She had wanted to give us as much time as possible. I love that lady!
This birth I tested Group B Strep
positive which had honestly been stressing me to the max. I had an
inch thick sheaf of research ready to go to my Drs appointment later that
day (maybe the early birth was an act of mercy for Dr. Blanke,
hahaha..) I knew there was no way I'd get the required four hour
dose of antibiotics during labor, since I've never had a labor four
hours long. That puts me in the murky and unpleasant world of a)
baby health uncertainty, and b) tortuous "hospital policy"
that requires an expensive 48 hour stay, extensive testing, and if
the baby so much as sneezes a possible 5 day NICU stay. Blessedly,
though, since the birth was so fast and my water broke just as he was
born, there was almost literally no exposure to the baby, so GBS was
no concern and we got to go home 12 hours after the birth.
My other concern was the glucose prick
test, which had been slightly nightmarish with Zoe since she was a
stubborn sleepy nurser. I'd done quite a bit of research on this,
too, so I'd know when to refuse the 29 heel pricks and when to know
they were necessary. Fortunately, again, in the madness, the nurses
forgot to give him the test. Four hours later, one meekly came in
and said, "Um, we kind of forgot this test... do you still want
it?" I laughed. No, he was nursing like a champ and red as a
beet. But thanks anyway!
And lastly, though a precipitous birth
is exciting and makes for a great story, Michael has strongly
suggested that we NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. Next time I have to wake him
up earlier. I agree.
