The birth story, part II

Flashing back to the night of the 15th...

Once we got back from our initial meeting with the midwife, we went home to wait it out. We got burritos from Robertito's and watched the A's game. They were beating the Red Sox - final score 6-3. Given my early penchant for narrating the games to Péle (our nickname for Aria in utero, since she kicked like a soccer player), this seemed like a good sign.

Hosanna's contractions were getting stronger as the night went on. By about 8:00 p.m. they were strong enough that she couldn't speak through them anymore. By the time we went in to the birth center, about 11:30 p.m., she was fully in active labor.

A few people accompanied us during the labor: Hosanna's mom, her best friend Keri, and another good family friend, Nancy. In addition, there was the midwife and the doula. All in all this was a tremendous group of women, and we couldn't think of a better group to help Aria come out into the world.

Hosanna did the whole birth drug-free, and it was quite an experience. It seemed to take forever for her to dilate, so she couldn't push for the longest time - she could only breathe through the contractions. Somewhere at about 2:00 in the morning she threw up. I've never seen anyone throw up so much. The doula said "I know that wasn't very fun, but it was actually a good sign."

We had funk music playing for nearly the whole night - it was what Hosanna most wanted to hear. It seemed to take some of the load off for her to focus on the music, at least between contractions. And it gave me something to focus on as well. With so many women around, and with so much energy deservedly focused on my wife, whenever I got scared (which happened many times) there wasn't much for me to hold on to. I would look around the room, hoping to catch someone's eyes and get some kind of a look that said "don't worry, everything will be OK", but all eyes were on Hosanna. As they should have been.

At around 5:00 a.m. the midwife decided Hosanna could finally push - but after about a half an hour she saw her cervix start to swell up, and she told her she had to stop. That was probably the hardest part, because she wanted to push so badly. The midwife at this point counselled Hosanna that she should consider going to the hospital if this was getting too hard for her. Hosanna got this look of determination on her face that took me aback. "No epidural," she said to me. "No pitocin." She got up and started to walk around the room, jiggling her hips, bouncing on the yoga ball, doing everything she could think of to get the baby to drop down further.

It worked.

At about 7:00 a.m. the midwife once again examined her, and declared that the baby's head had moved further down, and she could push again. She was so tired, and in between nearly every push, she would say "I don't think I can do this. I'm so tired." But she did it.

Aria's head came out while "Velvet Pants" by the Propellerheads was playing. Usually, the midwife allows the mom to relax a bit before pushing the baby out completely. But Aria's nose and mouth were completely covered in meconium. Apparently, sometime earlier in the pregnancy she had become distressed and pooped in her amniotic fluid. The midwife and the doula were both completely shocked to see her like that, because there had been no warning at all: her vital signs had been totally normal during the whole labor, and there had never been even a trace of meconium in the amniotic fluid that came out.

What followed was a scene of urgency such as I have never before experienced. The midwife and the doula were urging Hosanna to push the baby out quickly. "Velvet Pants" segued into "Roll it Up" by the Crystal Method, and Aria practically squirted out in (I'm guessing here) less than five minutes. Hosanna was on a birthing stool, and after the midwife caught Aria, she immediately placed her on the floor in a big bundle of blankets. I remember thinking she looked rubbery. Her skin was somewhere between blue and pink, and there were meconium stains all over her face, nails, and umbilical cord. The midwife, the doula, and Hosanna all began rubbing her vigorously, talking to her, telling her that we don't spank, but she needed to cry for us. They were suctioning out her nose and mouth with a rubber ball with a point on the end. I was in total shock and could barely speak. All I could think was, when do they pick her up and hand her to Mom?

After just a minute or so, the midwife told the doula to call the paramedics. They asked a lot of questions over the phone, and our midwife was getting irritated: after a while, the answers became a form of "just send the @#$(!!#$$ ambulance!!!" Aria's skin was getting pinker, meaning she was getting enough oxygen, but she wasn't crying to the midwife's satisfaction. She could only manage little peeps, not the big scream they wanted. So when the paramedics arrived, the midwife was satisfied that Aria would survive, and told us she wanted to send her off to the hospital as a precaution.

...to be continued...