In the early hours of May 7, 2019, I awoke to a gentle, but certain tightening of my abdomen, giving me the indication that I might be soon meeting our little one.
Unlike labor with Will, I didn’t race to wake anyone in the house, I didn’t make any calls or send any texts.
Since starting Bodies for Birth five years earlier, I had heard so many stories of women laboring quietly in the stillness of their homes in the early stages and it sounded so completely sacred. I wanted to be in the stillness. I wanted to keep the space dark and silent, uninterrupted to fully connect with my body, with my baby and to experience labor as it began.
Will was sleeping beside me in the family bed and I remember taking a picture of him—splayed out in his pjs, sleeping like a king—and thinking that it might be the last time he’d have that much space to sprawl out.
I rested and hydrated, I paced in the bedroom, walked through the halls listening to the sounds of sleep. I breathed and rubbed my belly. I swayed and looked out the windows as night faded to day.
May 7th, 2019 would be our baby’s birthday. I felt quite sure of that.
I timed and logged the contractions throughout the morning. By 7 AM, it was time to wake up the family and share the news. It was time to call the midwives and to get ourselves in order!
Though the contractions were becoming more intense and more frequent, I felt calm, serene and completely disinterested in rushing to the hospital.
It was a gorgeous spring morning; the type we wait for all winter long in the PNW…and, I was determined to enjoy it!
Will and Shawn were giddy with excitement! They prepared our bags, ate breakfast and tried to remain calm by watching a movie while they oh, so patiently waited for me to give them the signal that I was ready to make our way to the hospital.
I took a shower, put on a dress, did my make-up and braided my hair.
I was in the zone and I knew it. I was grateful to feel so completely steady and at peace on this big day. I wanted to maintain that feeling for as long as possible, knowing that it would only help labor to unfold naturally and with ease.
My sister, Alli and niece, Margaux, lived right down the street. In minutes they were on our doorstep, practically out of their skin with anticipation and ready for the labor walk together that we had been envisioning for months.
We walked through Edmonds and Alli made a Starbucks stop. While she and Margaux were inside, I had my first contraction that required coping. I could feel it coming, so I snuck into an alleyway for privacy. With one hand up against a mural covered wall, I closed my eyes and breathed.
It was 9:30 AM and Edmonds was hopping with people buzzing in and out of coffee shops.
As the contraction passed, I opened my eyes and noticed a woman coming toward me, “Are you okay?” “Yes, I’m good! Great. Thank you.” I replied, just slightly out of breath.
She looked at me like I was completely out. of. my. mind. Well, I couldn’t blame her…
- It was quite clear that I was in an alley and in labor.
- It was quite clear that I was alone.
- It was quite clear that I was completely fine about it all.
She didn’t believe me. She asked if I needed help. I assured her that my sister was close by and would be back from her Starbucks run momentarily.
She still didn’t believe me.
She wanted to help, but didn’t know how and I could tell, she was genuinely worried for me. I again reassured her that I was fine, saying, “Really, I’m okay. I’m coping. I’m in labor, but I’m totally okay. Thank you for your concern.”
She reluctantly walked to her car never taking her eyes off me once.
When Alli and Margaux returned, we continued on our walk, stopping to take photos, laughing and talking in between contractions. I could feel the morning sun on my face, the birds were chirping, flowers dotted the sidewalks and each step was moving me closer to meeting baby Johnny!
By the time we were making our way back home, I had the first contraction that really took my breath away. I bent over hands placed firmly on my thighs, breathing through the intensity. “That was a good one.” I said, smiling at Alli and Margaux afterward and feeling the tears welling in the corners of my eyes.
Alli suggested we head back home and that perhaps it was time to go to the hospital. In my head, I was already planning my next walk.
Shawn stood by and patiently allowed space for me to labor at home for a short while longer, suggesting several times that things were “getting more intense.” He really didn’t want to deliver a baby in the car. Finally, he cornered me in the kitchen. “I know you want to stay here, but I think it’s time to go. Please do not fight me on this.”
Sitting in the car was not what I wanted to do. But, we gathered our bags and off we went for the last time in the car as a family of three! We were 25 minutes from the hospital, during which time I tried to keep myself from putting my foot through the floorboard during contractions.
I wanted to move. I felt like a hot air balloon squished into a tin can that was being crushed over and over again.
I asked Shawn to pull over twice so I could labor outside of the car. Boeing Creek Park is now affectionally called “Contraction Creek” as I labored against the fence until I could stand to get back in the car once again.
Finally, we arrived in the parking lot of Northwest Hospital Medical Center. The contractions were coming fast and furious, making it hard to take more than a few footsteps without pausing to cope, to breathe, to work with my body and baby.
The nursing staff took one look at me and said, let’s get to you to a room now. We hustled down the hallway and within minutes, I was wearing a wristband and a cervical check was performed. 9 cm. Almost complete. We were that close. This was it.
There was no time for playlists or for ambiance.
I was given full permission to move about the room and to be in any position that helped me to cope. So, I did. I rocked, I swayed, I walked. Will and Shawn rubbed my back and hips. I smiled for pictures in between contractions. I made jokes. It was truly fun and completely joyful.
Things skyrocketed to the next level as I became fully dilated and prepared to push. I felt I was out of my skin. I asked to use the bathroom. For the first time all day, I suddenly feared I couldn’t do it. I didn’t feel I could endure the intensity. “I don’t know what to do with myself” I said.
My midwives assured me, “You’re doing it.” And, reminded me that my urge to go to the bathroom, that my feelings of fear simply indicated that we were about to meet baby. They were right.
Moments later, I was on a mat on the floor on hands and knees, I gave two pushes there and as I came to standing, I felt Johnny corkscrew his way earth-side. The midwife caught him and he was immediately placed in my arms skin-to-skin on my chest as I lowered us both slowly to the bed gasping and crying and shaking with the intensity of it all. It was 12:37 pm.
When I look back and watch videos of those first moments, I am completely delirious with joy and relief. Barely able to speak, I just gasp and cry and repeat, “Baby, my baby, my baby” as I kiss his sweet head of full hair.
The stars aligned and the preparation I did, the beliefs I held, the choices I made, the providers I chose, the practitioners who helped me throughout my entire pregnancy, my family and loved ones who were by side ALL played huge roles in helping to make this birth experience a reality. I am forever grateful for the gift and the privilege; it was affirming and transformative in every way.