***
My first birth freaked my body out. My body was trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Somewhere deep inside something knew, and was driving on deep, but the rest of me could never seem to catch my breath- literally. My husband kept telling me to breath and I kept trying to tell him I couldn’t remember how. When one contraction let me rest long enough to talk, I told him “don’t tell me to breathe- just breathe loudly next to me so I can copy you.”
It took almost the whole birth for my body to figure out how to push with the contractions and to finally get that baby out. By the time the baby was ready, I’d had contractions for 24 hours. I’d been in pain every five minutes or less for 15 hours. I was in active labor for 10 hours. I was so exhausted. But I was going to do anything I had to to get that baby out. And I pooped in front of everyone and my vagina was all over the place for like 3-6 men and women, and I didn’t care.
When my baby’s head came out, my husband was shocked because she looked just like him. I was too exhausted to care or push, and so she stayed there- head out, body in, for like 10 more minutes. When the rest of her wiggled out, I was so relieved. Not happy- relieved. Done. Finally. Thank God. The nurse actually had to pick her up out of the water (we were in a birthing pool) and put her on my chest because I forgot about that part. And then there was blood and a bit of scary stuff where my uterus wasn’t contracting and I got a shot and some things but I was too tired to worry much. And then sleep. And I think it was work paying the $5000 bucks for those couple of scary after minutes- and the fact they cleaned up that mess. It was nasty stuff. And no, I didn’t want to save/eat/see my placenta.
I wasn’t scared until we got home with this little creature and I realized I wasn’t sure if I knew how to keep her alive. Caid and I googled a lot of things. Things you don’t think of until you are home alone with a newborn. But we made it. And crazy us- we did it again.
After my first birth, I was sure I could do anything else life threw at me. My body was incredible, and for the first time of my life, I stopped criticizing the parts I didn’t like as much, and gave my body much more grace to recover, relearn, and do life.
My body had it figured out for my second birth. The last couple of months (and she wasn’t born until an hour shy of 42 weeks) of pregnancy was exhausting, and for some reason I couldn’t sleep until 2am or later, with my 2 year old waking up at 6am. But the birth? I rocked it!
When baby #2 finally decided to come, we calmly dropped off our kid at a friend's house and waited in line (we were at the free public hospital this time, not the private pay one). By the time they saw me, I was 7cm dialated, but not in much pain/contractions. But soon after being shown a bed it started, and 8 hours later she was born. I had a doula and a husband who messaged me and breathed next to me (not telling me to breathe, just breathing with me) and we were a great team. I bounced on the ball. I walked around, I showered. I progressed beautifully until the final pushing stage where we got the one birthing pool in the building (thank you Jesus!) for the last two hours.
I focused on the goal- getting baby out. I was loud, I was direct, and while it was just as much pain as the last time, when my baby was born I had enough energy to pick her up and hold her. I even smiled for the picture. I felt like I knew what was going to happen and charged in and took control. It was really powerful.
I was really blessed in both births to have a team of people who helped me succeed. It was my body that was allowed to go at its own pace, and get the job done that it was created to do. I am so grateful to have positive, healthy birth stories, and I love to share them, as birthing was an empowering experience for me, and I hope to encourage others to take charge of their own stories.
No comments:
Post a Comment