Monday morning was the first morning in at least a week I woke up without cramps. I mentioned to a friend that maybe this was a sign - maybe my body was taking a break in preparation for the "real thing." By that afternoon the baby seemed particularly low and I complained a bit about it as I was waddling out of the living room to the bathroom. Claire, our 2.5 year old, said to me, "Don't worry Mommy, baby come out soon." I guess somehow she just knew.

At about 5:30 pm I had a contraction... a real one. I had been having pretty strong braxton hicks contractions for quite some time now, but this one was somehow different and I knew it. I was on the phone with a friend and I grumbled to her, "I can hear what you're saying, but I can't talk right now." Next thing I knew I was having another and another... and another. By 6:30 I mentioned to Paul that we should probably start timing them because I could focus on nothing but the contractions and I had already had a ton of them. I also called my parents to let them know that this might be "it" because they would be coming out here to watch Claire for us. The contractions were about 6 minutes apart and getting stronger. At about 7:00 Paul and Claire went out to pick up something for us to eat for dinner. I continued to time the contractions - looking back, they were coming every 3-4 minutes, but I was convinced they were 5-6 minutes apart, so anything that strayed from that pattern didn't "count" in my book! The contractions were varying in intensity, but basically getting stronger. By the time Paul and Claire got back, timing contractions was far too much of a distraction for me, so I stopped. We quickly ate our dinner and Paul set out to get everything ready to go before we left for the birth center.

This wasn't the easiest task for him because each time he'd walk (or should I say run!) away to do something (like find my shoes) I'd call for him to come help me through a contraction. (It can't be easy taking care of a 2 year old, getting things together and helping your wife through labor!) After one contraction I noticed Paul was panting. I very calmly said to him, "Relax a little. I don't want to you to wear yourself out!" At this point in my mind the contractions were still spaced pretty well apart - Paul claims though that they were more like 2-3 minutes apart.

At around 8 pm I called my midwife (I had talked to my doula a few times up until now letting her know how things were progressing). The midwife said that it sounded like we should come in based on the timing and that I couldn't talk through them. I mentioned to him that I was *fine* between contractions, smiling & laughing even - so I thought maybe I should wait a while longer. I called my parents anyway and asked them to come out now since it was sleeting outside and might take them longer than usual to get here. I mentioned to them that my plan was for them to care for Claire downstairs while Paul and I went upstairs to labor in peace.

Pretty suddenly, at around 8:30 things changed. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally. I felt different. I wasn't doing so well between contractions. I could still smile, but I couldn't really get up or move around. It was taking me much longer to recover between the contractions and I had a lot of pelvic pressure and some low back pain. I couldn't sit down at all because the pressure was so intense and had to spend the rest of the time on my hands and knees or on my side.

When my parents walked in the door I called my midwife and said we were on our way in. I positioned myself in the car as best I could and put a heating pad on my back. The contractions were really getting a lot worse and I was moaning pretty loudly through them. For the first time since I had timed the contractions I was seeing a clock (on the radio) and was able to get a feel for the time between them. 2 minutes. WHAT? I thought, "2 minutes??? That's not possible - I'm not far enough along for them to be this close together." Paul was an amazing help in the car, reminding me to relax before the contractions hit, and encouraging me to vocalize as much as I wanted. I probably wasn't the best help to him telling him "Don't speed, we have plenty of time," meanwhile complaining of the intense LOW pressure I was feeling! I'm pretty sure he was terrified that the baby was on its way out!.

We got to the birth center at about 9:30 and from that point on time was a blur. I got inside and was feeling a bit inhibited because there was another woman in labor in another room and she was playing music, trying to relax I imagine. I felt a bit uncomfortable about all of the moaning I had been doing, almost worried that I would bother her so I tried to breathe through contractions instead. That didn't last long!

Our doula arrived just a few minutes later and encouraged me to moan. I was really thankful for that encouragement since that's what I wanted to do anyway. At this point (and since I had gotten there) I had been kneeling on the floor with my head and arms on the bed. Someone suggested trying the birth ball but there was no way I could have sat on it. The pressure in my bottom was so intense I couldn't sit on anything. I did use the birth ball though to lean on during contractions and so I could rock, and that helped somewhat, particularly taking the strain off of my (very tired) arms.

After a few contractions I actually felt well enough to quickly climb up to the bed and have the midwife check my cervix. I was truly shocked to find out that I was 100% effaced and 8 cm dilated with a bulging bag of water. He offered to break it and at first I declined, but then decided to do it anyway in hopes that it would apply more pressure to my cervix and help me dilate as quickly as possible. The amniotic fluid was lightly stained with meconium.

I spent a while in bed on my side and managed a number of contractions this way. I think I had another cervical check at this point. (I definitely had one, I just don't remember when). There was "just a lip" left, and the midwife offered to help move it aside while I pushed. I tried that once and it just hurt way too badly to try again.

Soon after, I started feeling more and more hot. I mean REALLY hot. I had ice on my back, was drinking ice water and had a wet washcloth on my forehead, but nothing was cooling me down. (So much for those warm socks I packed!) Our doula offered me more water and I shouted, "Only if you pour it on me!" It was at about this point that something changed, and I went into a panic mode. I got out of bed. I couldn't find anything that worked. I couldn't find anything that made me feel better. I couldn't even tell when one contraction was beginning and the next was ending. All the while I was complaining loudly about the heat. I went to the bathroom and tried to sit down, but that was even worse. The pressure was intense. I started hyperventilating and mentioned I thought I was going to pass out. The nurse took charge and told me I had to leave the bathroom. I guess they didn't want me passing out on the bathroom floor. They opened the windows in the room and the cool air from the very cold night was pretty helpful, but I was still in a sort of panic mode...

... until I basically gave up. I laid down on the bed on my right hip (I couldn't put my bottom on the bed because it hurt too much) and gave in. With some of the contractions I gave a few small grunty pushes and eventually started pushing in earnest. Paul said I kept telling everyone "IT HURTS!" like they didn't know that - I guess I just needed to make it known.

Someone suggested I use a mirror - what a great suggestion! This is when I really got "down to business" so to speak. I could really focus on getting the baby out. I kept my hand on his head the whole time and did finally get that head out.

The amniotic fluid was stained with meconium, so they suctioned him while he was on my perineum. It was *really* hard not to push at this point, but of course I managed. A few minutes and an easy push later Owen was born.

weight: 10 pounds 14.5 ounces
length: 21 inches
head circumference: 38 cm (about 15 inches)

Following the birth, the nurse continued to check on my uterus which wouldn't stay contracted. I was also bleeding pretty heavily. The midwife removed several clots from my cervix which may have been preventing my uterus from staying contracted - boy did that hurt! Eventually I was given a shot of pitocin to keep it the uterus contracted and to stop the heavy bleeding.

Despite his enormous size, I only had one small tear (and perhaps a small skid-mark that they couldn't see, but I could feel). Even with a local anesthetic, the stitching was probably the most painful part of the whole experience, but thankfully it didn't last too long.

I must say that I'm amazed with his birth and with my body :) I'm really proud of Paul who was a rock through this. (Though I think I scared him a bit during what was probably transition). And to be honest, I'm pretty darn proud of myself too. :)