Birth #4 kicked my ass. A very humbling and very educational birth. I am still recovering...
We landed in JFK on Monday evening at 6pm. Drove to Port Washington, had some dinner, and finally made it back to Southold at around 10pm. I check messages at 11 or so, and there's a call from my client, whose due date came and went when I was in Boulder (remember: due dates are mostly worthless!) She thought her water had broken, and she was having mild cramping. At about 1 am, after a few more calls, she asked me to come over to her house. So much for sleep! She was having regular contractions, every 2-3 minutes, and they were lasting about 45 seconds to a minute. Generally, that is when you'd head to the hospital (please people, strongly consider a home birth) as those kind of contractions are a sign of active labor. Anyhow, I get there, and I'm seeing these intense contractions, but mama doesn't have that sort of dreamy, other-worldly active labor way of being. And I'm a bit confused. And I want us to stay home for a little while, but mama is so ready to go to the hospital -- she really thinks she'll have a quick labor. We really are a nation of control freaks, as was discussed in Boulder.
We get to the hospital at about 2:30, the midwife checks her out, and she is very effaced, but just 1cm dilated. The mama was deflated. Perhaps present for the first time to the amount of that she had yet to do... How do you know until you're doing it? We gave her lots to drink, wondering if dehydration had something to do with the intense early labor contractions, and in doing so, increased the space between contractions to about 7 minutes or so. We walked a little, but mostly hung out in the car for a few hours. Can you imagine? We didn't want to admit her, home was an hour away and the idea of going back freaked mama out, hotel was too pricey, so car it was. At 7 or 8, we went up to see the midwife again, and mama was still at 1cm.
I hit a wall then. I had been up all night, and I just didn't think I could go on. I thought, well fuck it, I don't really want to be a doula, I think I'll just leave, and mama will hate me, and the whole small town will know I walked out, but who cares. I'm outta here! And I wasn't even having contractions.
I didn't leave, I just cried inside a bit, and I helped mama through an intense back labor until she delivered her baby at 8pm. I had always worried that I wouldn't be able to help a mama with a posterior baby, but help her I did, and my body is now dealing with that. Squeezing hips together for 16 hours? Ouch. But obviously, this mama worked her ass off, and delivered a lovely baby boy, drugless, through intense back labor contraction after contraction. She was amazing. And she did it all for her son -- if it were just her, she would have taken something for the pain. Pretty humbling.
The midwife, not so much... I just really don't get some of these people who catch babies. I really want them all to be absolutely fabulous, and they are not. I appreciate my midwife more after every birth I attend... And since I feel like such a novice, I hold back when I really want to say, "how about squatting," because expert midwife is there. But, I think this birth taught me not to hold back any more.... and yet, I am still a novice, there is much to learn. I am so grateful to all these mama's for teaching me.
And now I need a massage. Or ten.
Halloween was lovely, will write more about that another day. Suffice it to say, Albie had his first "go to more houses than the 3 old people on our block" Halloween, and we had a lovely circle with the women who have sustained me these last 3 years.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
