The Birth of Eliza Jane: Part Four

To catch up: Pregnancy. Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

I had made up my mind and was ready to head to the hospital. The midwife said she had a few things to do before we could go.

Erik sat on the couch and knelt on the floor and draped myself over him as the contractions came wave upon wave upon wave. Mandi valiantly tried to relieve some of the pain in my back, but nothing seemed to be helping. I could not cope.

I could not cope.

I feel ashamed even writing that. And I felt ashamed feeling it at the time, too. I was not the pillar of strength I had hoped I would be and it was a humbling experience.

I held onto Erik for dear life and shuddered and whimpered as the contractions assaulted me. I moaned. I cried. I was unable to control the octave or volume of my sounds. I desperately struggled to maintain any semblance of composure. I was defeated and I knew it.

I felt anger toward my midwife and told Erik so. Hugging his waist, I said I wanted to go to the hospital now, but the midwife was taking her sweet time. I felt it would have been disrespectful to leave when she wasn't ready, but she was just charting and packing up her home birth supplies so she wouldn't have to come back and get them.

For some reason she felt it necessary to start an IV before we left for the hospital.  She started an 18 gauge in my right hand at 23:00. It was a terrible start -- she got blood all over (me and her) and my hand was sore for days after. She started infusing normal saline and then, again, discussed the transfer. I held the IV bag while it infused into me, which was ridiculous. She made me wait until the bag had almost fully infused before giving me the go ahead to leave for the hospital. It was 23:30. I don't know why we listened to her. I would have transferred immediately from the tub to the car if I'd had my way. I didn't want to be disrespectful or rude.

We spent a couple minutes gathering things for the hospital (while I carried the IV bag around with me). We weren't prepared for a transfer so we just grabbed what we thought the baby would need and my sandals. The midwife finally locked my IV so I wouldn't have to carry the bag into the hospital with me.

I thankfully had only three contractions en route to the hospital. They lifted me out of my seat and had me squirming, but they were slightly more manageable than the debilitating ones I was experiencing at home.

We arrived at the hospital at 00:20 on Christmas morning.

I could feel that the baby had moved down again and I was determined to get that baby out so I walked  the few hundred meters to the elevators and then to the maternity ward. I work on the same floor as the maternity ward (opposite wing) so I prayed we wouldn't run into any coworkers on our way. We only had two contractions between the car and the ward. The contractions were still causing my back to seize and the stinging, twinging, deep stabbing, searing back pain made me feel as though I would crumple.

We arrived at the maternity ward at 00:30. I was wearing my yellow housecoat, a diaper, and my Birkenstock sandals. I must have looked like a hot mess.

I don't know when it was decided that I would get an epidural, but that decision was made between getting out of the tub, trying to not bark at my midwife, and arriving at the hospital. The anesthesiologist was at the hospital when we arrived (praise the Lord!) waiting to do an epidural on another labouring mom. I needed blood drawn and the results to come back before she would be able to administer mine.

I felt slightly panicked for two reasons. The first being that I was terrified of epidurals (I've seen many put in and they're not pretty). The second was that I knew how slow the hospital can be in getting blood drawn and lab results back and a labouring woman is hardly an emergency. I knew it could be hours before the much dreaded procedure could be done.

I waited with bated breath for every contraction to overtake me. I remember myself being wimpy and whiny though I am told this was a false perception. I thought I was being loud, but have been corrected as I remained quiet even when I did cry out.

My midwife continued to be my primary caregiver and the nurse was quiet and forgettable. That isn't meant to sound cruel, she just didn't have much of a presence.

Erik and I had driven alone and Mandi and Abbie stayed back to tidy up a bit (the birth tub had a hole and was deflating). When Mandi arrived I was so relieved to have her cold hands readily available to soothe and center me.

The anesthesiologist arrived around 01:30 to give me the epidural. I told her they terrified me and she was calm, confident, encouraging and just what I needed at the moment. She told Erik to help me stay still and I wouldn't let him. I needed to do it alone for some reason. The anesthesiologist was efficient and I did my best not to cringe as I knew exactly what was going on behind me.

I only had two more full sensation contractions before the epidural started to kick in. By the fifth or sixth contraction I no longer felt back pain.

My birth team was exhausted. I had hormones and endorphins surging through me, but they were all beat. Looking around the room was almost comical as I was met with tired, glazed over eyes with dark circles round them. Everyone was running on empty.

I tried resting like everyone else was doing, but my legs were bothering me too much (a gnawing, aching, exhausted sensation) so I just rubbed my belly, listened to my baby's heartbeat, and flipped from side to side.

My sisters came by at 02:30 after Erik texted them asking for sustenance. They brought some much needed snacks in the wee hours of the morning. I was told it would be best to stick to liquids for the time being, but I wasn't hungry anyway.

When my sisters left we went back to resting. Abbie and Erik tried to sleep and Mandi sat with me and rubbed my head.

The midwife did another internal exam at 02:50 because of increased rectal pressure and informed me that I was now fully dilated, though I had no urge to push yet. I wasn't sure I would feel the urge to push with the epidural, but wanted to give it time in case I would.

Just before 03:30 my dislike of the rectal pressure began to outweigh my desire to wait for the pushing urge.  I asked if I would feel an urge with the epidural and the midwife fumbled through some answer and said I could give pushing a try.

I was thankful that I could still feel my contractions so I waited for one to build and when it reached the peak I started pushing.

If I could do it over I wouldn't have started pushing so soon. I know I had been dilated to 10cm for at least 3/4 of an hour, but... I don't know. I don't know what the baby was doing in there and I don't know what I could have done differently to get her out in a more timely fashion and without wasting so much energy. 

Mandi unfortunately had to leave soon after the pushing began. She had an eight-month-old who she hadn't been with for far too long and he was mighty unhappy about that.

We tried multiple positions for pushing to see which would be most effective. The babe didn't seem too eager to move.  I was surprised that I felt strongest and it seemed my pushing was most effective when I was on my back. I was able to hold my own heels and do a sit-up-push while curled over my belly. In hindsight I would have like to try pushing on my hands and knees over the back of the bed. No one suggested this and I didn’t think of it in the moment.

I didn't anticipate pushing taking so long. I was happy to be pushing and looked forward to meeting our baby soon. But I pushed. And I pushed. And I pushed.

I peed all over with the effort of pushing, for which I laughed and apologized. My poor baby was stuck in the birth canal and being showered with urine.

The midwife pushed/pulled my pelvic/pubic bones (I'm not really sure what she was doing, but it looked like it took a lot of effort) apart to make more room for the babe and I bore down and pushed with all my might.

I don’t know how many times the midwife said she was going to consult the obstetrician on-call. She kept saying, “I’ll give you 30 minutes, if I don’t see any progression by such-and-such a time, then I’m going to call the obstetrician.” The first two times she said this I took up the challenge and felt motivated to move my babe. Every time the allotted time passed she would say I wasn’t quite where she hoped I would be but that she’d let me keep trying. I eventually tuned the midwife out as I found her less than helpful.

I needed a bit of encouragement so at around 05:00 Erik took a video to show me how much progression we’d made — feeling my baby’s head with my fingers wasn’t enough for me. Seeing the video was helpful. The baby was so close! Much of the head was visible and the babe was staying put between pushes instead of receding back into my womb.

Erik and Abbie both tried to nap while I continued my attempts to bring our baby earthside. I wasn’t bothered by this as I knew they would wake up and come when the baby was about to be born. I thought this moment wasn’t too far off so I smiled as my husband curled up on a stretcher.

So I pushed. And I pushed. And I pushed.

My excitement gave way to doubt. My energy gave way to exhaustion. And my courage gave way to defeat.

For the second time in my labour, I was defeated.

We were all exhausted. And I had a baby stuck in my vagina. My internal resources were zapped and I needed external motivation, encouragement, and energy. I needed the people around me to lift me up and carry me on.

I pathetically asked Erik why our baby wasn’t coming, “Why won’t this baby just. come. out?” I said things like, “It’s been too long. I’m too tired. Four hours is too long to push.” Erik tried his best, but he too looked defeated. He looked confused and exhausted as he held my hand and forced an encouraging smile.

For hours the midwife had been saying same thing over and over and over. “That’s it! Good job, Ashley. You’re doing it. You’re so strong.” I’d lost faith in her long before the baby arrived. Before we left home, actually. Her empty encouragement only annoyed me and was counterproductive as I just wished her away.

The midwife eventually did call the obstetrician and I was told she was on her way. At this point I didn’t care how the baby came out. I even would have welcomed a cesarean section because I clearly wasn’t making progress and I felt that everyone in the room was hopeless and just waiting for nothing to happen. I felt as though no one expected me to push the baby out anymore and that no one believed it was actually going to happen. I don’t think I would have been able to voice this at the time — I don’t think I had the words or could even identify the feeling, but I felt like I was pushing with all my might and I was the only one who believed that baby would come out. And even I began to doubt that.

I remember reaching down to touch our baby’s head and trying to figure out how I could grasp it enough to pull him/her out myself. Or if I could push my skin out of the way so that little head could pop out. Or if someone could give a little slice so there was more room for the baby to come out. Or if maybe that baby could just stay put forever.

Shift change occurred at 07:30. What a gift that was! A new nurse came into the room. She was lovely, encouraging, and calm. She brought life into my weary bones.

Right at the end of a push when I was about to let up and breathe she told me to give one last grunty push to hold the baby where she had progressed to. This little piece of advice made all the difference in the world. Seriously.

I started making a bit of noise for the first time since starting to push. I had wanted my energy to be focused downward, but now I used my voice to quietly keep my baby progressing.

The obstetrician arrived and introduced herself. I’m fairly certain she was mumbling and staring at my baby, but I probably just wasn’t paying attention because I was focused on pushing and grunting. She put one glove on and said, “that baby is coming out of that vagina.” That was all the encouragement I needed to hear. I’d expected to be told that we were going for a c-section.

That baby is coming out of that vagina.

After a couple quiet grunty-ended pushes I started grunting through the entire push. I thought I was being loud, but Erik assures me I wasn’t.  I didn’t feel as though I was doing anything different (aside from making noise) but I started feeling the baby move. It was surreal when she started to finally make her way out. I couldn’t stop pushing even though I needed to breathe — I finally felt like my body was actually helping my efforts.

Once her head was delivered I asked if I could catch the baby. The midwife informed me that I still needed to push the body out… Why she thought I wouldn’t know that is beyond me. I promised to do so as I reached down to feel my baby’s head.

I said “Hi, Baby!” and I was flooded with relief that progress was finally being made.

I felt another contraction building and pushed to deliver the body. I was surprised by how much work it took to get the body out. I wanted to pull the baby out myself, but would have been unable to do so in the position I was in. My eyes were closed and I desperately pushed. My hands were still near the baby, but I don’t recall exactly what I was doing with them or what they were feeling. The midwife pulled the babe side to side as she freed her from my womb. She commented on how hard this baby was making me work.

My hands found the babe as I felt her body begin to slide out and helped to pull her up to my chest. She was born at 07:54 on December 25. On Christmas Day in the mor-ning.

My very first thought as I pulled the babe up to my chest was, “where is the other half of him?” I caught a look at the babe’s privates and thought I saw labia, but didn’t believe it. I was certain there was a little boy growing inside of me.
 

I welcomed our babe saying, “Hello, my sweet.” And then I put my head back and breathed a grateful sigh of relief.

Well, I actually bumbled like an idiot. At first the babe looked angry, and who wouldn’t be? She didn’t cry immediately, but looked around searching with a purple scowl on her face. I asked “What are you?” as I lifted the babe’s leg and announced that we had a girl! She finally cried shortly thereafter.

I remember the warm stickiness of her. Her bleating cries. Her flailing body. She sounded a bit like a little lamb. Her left ear was folded over and stuck to itself. Her head was side-coned and long.

The midwife showed us that there was a true knot in the cord and told us that she’s a lucky girl. The possible complications with the knot thankfully didn’t hit me hard until later, but in that moment I was again grateful that she was here and she was safe.

The babe was clearly distressed on her way out because she pooped en route and meconium covered my legs and abdomen.

We were unable to delay cutting the cord because the baby was having decelerations. Erik cut it 2.5 minutes after delivery while I was busy rubbing the baby and encouraging her to breathe for me. The nurse put an oxygen monitor on the baby’s foot and listened to her heart as we snuggled and I continued my exhausted, whimpering monologue.

Our doula left soon after the delivery and the other midwife, the one I adore, showed up at 08:00. I was so happy to see her. I was especially thankful because the first midwife's hands were trembling from the effort of pushing my bones apart for hours. I needed stitches and I was glad to have some fresh hands in there putting me back together.

We both had some time to cuddle our tiny human before the midwife took her to check her over with Erik. She was tiny -- only 6lbs 15oz. And a wee 19.69 inches long. The midwife wrapped the baby up and Erik brought her back to me. We admired her for a bit longer before calling our families after 10:00.

Next: Part Five

The Birth of Eliza Jane: Part Three

Need to catch up?
Pregnancy. 
Part One.
Part Two.

December 24. 
When asked, I consider "labour" starting at 10:30 am on Christmas Eve. Contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and lasted 45-90 seconds. I didn't call anyone right away as I didn't really believe things were happening. It was much more manageable than I anticipated and I didn't want to cry wolf and have everyone leave their families and their celebrations. Erik turned on the electric fireplace and I sat in front of it as we rocked our way through the surges.

My belly band and back pain were what hurt the most. Well, they were the only things that were uncomfortable. It didn't hurt as in typical "pain" but it was... clenching, maybe.

At some point I started singing/exhaling a low continuous note with each surge. I would sit forward as the contraction started and relax my body as I took a slow, peaceful breath. I remained relaxed as the contraction intensified and started singing/exhaling the low continuous note when the contraction was close to peaking. I continued the low note as the intensity tapered off and until I felt ready to take a slow, cleansing breath. I also started rocking my upper body in a circle with the extra intense contractions.

The heat of the ire on my back worked wonders to relieve some of the back pain I was experiencing. I sat inches away from it and Erik sat in front of me, on the birth ball, ready to support me in any way I needed. We would rock together or he would support me as I sank into the intensity of the contraction, relaxing completely and allowing my body to do its work.

We didn't call the midwife until closer to 13:00. I didn't feel like things were happening quickly and I was enjoying the peaceful quiet of the two of us working together. I would have waited longer to call her, but she thought things were going to go quickly and I wasn't intending on having an unassisted home birth.

The midwife arrived around 13:30. She let herself in and began setting up. She came to say hello and commented on how wonderfully we were working together. She sat down on the floor in the corner of the room and observed us for a while.

Mandi (my dear friend) arrived as the midwife was doing another internal exam. We were fully effaced and 6cm dilated. I remember being happy that things were changing and being relieved that they weren't changing too quickly.

I was so glad Mandi was there. She is one of the strongest women I know and she is quietly reassuring. I was there when her two oldest children were born so it was special to have her there to support me while I laboured and delivered mine. She also lives in Fort St. John so I was lucky she was in town.

Mandi immediately got to work rubbing my lower back, which felt amazing! I soon realized that it wasn't the rubbing that I loved, but the pressure. Lots of pressure! In two specific spots on either side of my spine, at the small of my back. As much pressure as anyone could muster.

Our doula arrived soon after Mandi. She had a kind smile on he face and she settled in quickly and quietly without interrupting our rhythm. She lit the beeswax candles I had stored up for labour and delivery and placed them around the room.

Once everyone arrived Erik suddenly left me and busied himself in other rooms of the house. I don't know if he was helping the midwife set up or find things, checking on food, doing some housekeeping he thought needed to get done or what, but I felt his absence and remember feeling frustrated that he wasn't supporting me. I told myself that he would be back and I had to make do without him. I was annoyed, though, and had to talk myself out of expressing said annoyance upon his return.

It was lovely to have my people surrounding me in the coziness of our living room. When I found out we were pregnant and expecting to deliver in December I was excited about the prospect of labouring in the comfort of my cozy, festive home. I love the soft glow of Christmas lights, the warmth of the fire, the smell of the tree, and the overall loveliness of it all. It's gezellig. Who doesn't want that comfort when they're labouring? And I wasn't disappointed when the time came -- it was lovely.

It was wonderful to labour in our living room. I spent time catching up with Mandi. I asked Abbie (my doula) how she was and heard a bit about both of their Christmas celebrations. When I felt a surge starting I would focus inward, prepare myself by taking a calming breath, and relax my body to allow the surge to take over. I would "get into position" (whatever position that was at the time) and my team would surround me and support me until the contraction subsided, at which point I would take another cleansing breath and we would continue whatever conversation we were having.

There was lots of swaying. And singing.

The intensity of the contraction was evident to others in the intensity, volume, length, or pitch of my vocalizations. If the contraction was "getting away from me" my pitch would rise as I tensed up and Erik would gently encourage me to bring it back down.

We laboured for a while before the midwife did another internal exam. I think she did them every four hours unless I declined, but I could be mistaken. I was 7cm dilated this time and, again, felt relieved that things weren't going too quickly. I had been worried about fast and furious and instead was getting slow and steady which was much more acceptable.

The midwife seemed a little perplexed by the slow progression. She had me hang off the handles of our open door and squat down during a few contractions to try position the baby better. I tried for a while, but preferred draping myself over Erik and swaying with him.

Mandi was champ at pushing into my back -- she leaned all her weight into her elbows that were on the small of my back. She apologized for pushing so hard at one point and I explained that there was no such thing as too hard. I told her that sticking knives in would possibly make it feel better.

I never felt the urge to go into the birth tub (which was set up in the dining room) and I knew I wanted to wait until near delivery to get into it anyway. I didn't really crave relief from the contractions. I felt I was handling them really well and was actually surprised by how aware I felt. I had expected that when I hit transition I would be in the zone and just stay internally focused. I didn't. I was chatty through it all. And completely aware of my surroundings, which wasn't the greatest because I noticed where I could have tidied more.

According to the midwives records I got into the tub at 19:30. The midwife suggested I get in as she was hoping it would help me reach full dilation.

I was most comfortable belly down with my arms resting on the edge of the tub. Erik was sitting on a chair in front of me and he put his forehead to mine, rubbed my neck, held my hands, and made me feel loved. Abbie was doing counter-pressure and Mandi was pouring water down my back with contractions.

I could not believe how soothing it was to have water poured down my back. It was lovely. I think it may be because it was distracting and because it gave me another, more pleasant, sensation to focus on. It was warm and fluid and wonderful.

This is where things start to become less clear in my memory.

I sang my way through most contractions, but for some I just breathed in and out. When singing/droning I would hold my note for an impressively long time. Erik would often remind me to breathe, which I sometimes appreciated and sometimes ignored. At one point, he gently reminded me to breathe and I responded saying, "I don't want to breathe, I need to sing!" and continued singing. It made everyone else chuckle, myself included.

I had no desire to eat or drink, but Mandi and Abbie would put the straw to my lips and I would dutifully take a few sips between contractions. I was fed pieces of clementines throughout labour as well.

I found the tub to be quite warm, but the midwife said that when I was nearing delivery she would actually have to make it a bit warmer for the baby's arrival.

My membranes spontaneously ruptured at 20:15. I was leaning over the side of the tub during a contraction and felt a little pop followed by a warm trickle of liquid. It felt like I was peeing from my vagina. I announced that I was fairly certain my water broke and sure enough there was a bit of vernix floating alongside me in the tub. The midwife offered to do another vaginal exam, but I declined as things were clearly progressing and I wanted to allow my body to continue doing its work. 

At some point someone said something about food — not for me, but for my lovely people. I had no sense of time so it didn’t make sense to me that they’d be hungry. I looked at the clock, though I don’t remember what time it was, and realized that we’d been at it for quite some time so they were inevitably hungry. We’d planned on just ordering in while in labour because it was a lot of work to keep food prepped at all times just in case. Abbie called around and, because it was Christmas Eve, nothing was open. I think they ended up having soup and bread… I just remember asking that whatever they made didn’t smell too strongly as I had no desire to eat. I wasn’t nauseated, but I had absolutely no interest in food at this point. I remember feeling like I was being selfish and wondering how they could be hungry, then laughing to myself.

Labour continued as it had, quietly in the kitchen surrounded by people who loved and cared for me and the baby we were bringing into the world. Candles were lit, hands were rubbing, water was pouring, I was singing, and we were rhythmically rocking the baby down. I felt supported and uplifted. I was able to meet contractions relaxed and grounded.

I had another internal exam at 21:00 to see what kind of progress was being made. My cervix was 9.5cm dilated and anterior and the babe was at +1 station. The midwife attempted to reduce the cervical lip. She said it was easy to push up over the baby's head, but it wouldn't stay there.

I got out of the tub to go to the bathroom, hoping that an empty bladder would help me reach full dilation. I tried my hardest to pee in the tub, but I just couldn't. I had a contraction just before and just after sitting down to pee. I was surprised that being out of the water didn't increase the intensity of the contractions. I had assumed there was no going back once you were in the tub because things would feel much worse out of it.

While I was up, I lunged up and down the hall trying to get the baby to move into a better position. I also tried squatting with one foot on the fireplace ledge. I think I did each for around 5 contractions, but I can't be too sure about that.

I returned to the tub to labour some more.

I felt the baby move up, away from the exit, so the midwife did another vaginal exam at 22:30 and my cervix was now 7.5cm dilated and the babe was now at 0 station. I felt confused and discouraged and my midwife didn't have any encouragement for me. She seemed as confused as I was, which didn't help me.

The midwife offered to "reduce the lip". Yeeeeeeeooooouuuuuccccchhh! That was, undoubtedly, the most painful thing. I tried to my best to relax my body, but I couldn't handle it.

Finding out that the baby had, in fact, climbed back into my body and having the shocking pain of the attempted lip reduction did not help my coping abilities. I don't know if it was a coincidence or if this disappointment played into it, but my back started seizing after hours of counter-pressure. The counter-pressure, that had previously brought relief, now added to my discomfort.

I was confused and the midwife's lack of encouragement and confidence only added to my confusion. The midwife actually said the words, "I don't know what is happening." She said it as a quiet, off-hand comment, but it spoke deep into me. I was feeling raw, exposed, vulnerable, confused, and in great need of encouragement and those words deflated me. And made me mad. I can assure you those aren't the words a labouring woman wants to hear. Especially when she already doesn't particularly like you and you're in her home preparing to bring her child earthside.

Everything that had previously helped relieve the labour pains now added to them. I confessed that I didn't know what would help me cope with them anymore and I moaned and cried into Erik's shoulder as I felt some of my strength and poise leave my body. I needed encouragement. I needed comfort. I needed to feel safe. I needed my midwife to tell me that things were going to be okay, but I felt my baby moving further away from... out... and I was bewildered.

I knew the baby was poorly positioned and I knew that he/she was trying to find a better angle for delivery, but I seemed to be the only one who knew this or felt confident of this. And being the only one made me question it.

Erik was a champ. He tried to encourage me, but I was no longer hearing him.  I was fighting to relax my body, but was not doing a very good job of it. I wonder if I felt Erik's unease because he was no longer getting through to me. I felt out of control, but I fought hard to keep myself together.

Mandi, who had been manning my back through most of my labour came around beside Erik. She was a God-send in that moment. I felt her cool hands gently brush my furrowed brow and I heard her soft voice speak to my trembling spirit. She told me to relax and breathe. And sweetly cheered me on saying, “That’s it. You’re doing great.”. She was able to center me when I felt like I was crumpling.

The midwife no longer seemed confident. She even said, "This is very confusing. I'm not sure why you're going backwards." I was unimpressed with her so I told Erik that I wanted to go to the hospital. I whispered it into his ear as I held onto him as though he were a life-line. I never imagined I would utter those words, but in that moment I knew that was where I needed to be. I no longer trusted my midwife and I needed encouragement and direction that I was not receiving from her. I felt anger toward her and this made me unable to relax. I no longer felt safe in her care.

My goal from the start was to stay home as long as possible. We'd intended to have this be through delivery, but I was open to a hospital transfer if necessary. I had not anticipated my lack of trust in my midwife would be the catalyst for such a transfer, but I felt unsafe and it was time to go.

At 22:45 I got out of the tub having made up my mind to go to the hospital. I just wanted to feel safe and supported so I could get my groove back.

The midwife clearly didn't realize this was my intent because she timidly gave us our options. She said that we could continue labouring at home, but the baby didn’t seem to be cooperating. We were told we could transfer to the hospital and get an epidural to allow my body to rest and hopefully allow the baby to make his/her way down again.

I said I wanted to go the hospital. Now.

Next: Part Four.

The Birth of Eliza Jane: Part Two

If you need catching up you can read a brief pregnancy post and part one.

December 23.
Tuesday was uneventful as far as labour progression went. We spent the day at my parents house as family was in town for Christmas and I didn't want to miss out.

Contractions started at 16:00, which was earlier than the last few days, but they were easy to handle and I only had to stop conversation occasionally to prepare myself as the surge began and to breathe quietly and rock or sway. We went home shortly after dinner as I wanted to rest and hydrate, as was my goal every day.

Erik was starting to get sick so he went to bed early and I did my best not to disturb him -- there was no point in both of us losing out on sleep.

I couldn't sit down through the night and contractions were 6 minutes apart from 21:00-06:30. At first I tried to labour on my hands and knees in bed and I'd lay down between each contraction. Oy vey! that was miserable. Hoisting myself onto all fours mid-contraction, which was no small feat, wore on me and added to the belly pain. I ended up moving to the birthing ball with my body draped over the bed.

The pain of my contractions were felt most severely in two places:
1. In a band right along my underwear line/lower abdomen. It felt like it was just over an inch thick and constant, strong, and breath-taking (literally). It was almost like a searing. I couldn't adjust my position once a contraction started because it felt like I was going to rip along that line.  (I was later told this was from my dilating cervix)
2. My back. Yowza!

What was worse than contractions was the feeling of the baby moving. That was unbearable! I think she was trying to find a better position for delivery, but this caused the most disconcerting sensation. It felt like grinding and searing, and nails on a chalkboard, and unpredictable, and agonizing. Thinking about it makes my hair stand on end even now, almost ten months later.

I did an internal exam at one point in the night and the babe had actually moved up and away.

I needed to walk around the house when the baby was moving to try help her into a better position. I tried many positions to try manage the discomfort of labour and the excruciating pain of the baby repositioning herself.

At some point during the night I started moaning through a few of the contractions when I could feel myself starting to lose control. It was a low moan of varying volumes, but it allowed me to focus on vocalizing rather than the uncontrollable shaking or quaking my body was partaking in. Especially when that dear babe was twisting inside of me.

I drew a bath in desperation hoping for some warmth, some relief, and possibly some sleep. I loved the feeling of the water pouring over my belly, but as the baby started acting up again I shot out of that tub as quickly as pregnantly possible.

December 24.
Poor Erik woke up to me sitting on the side of the bed at 05:30 quietly sobbing. I was just tired. So tired. So so so tired. And I didn't know what to do. And the baby had moved up instead of down. I felt weak and discouraged and things "hadn't even started". I had been working so hard for days and this baby was no where near being born.

I took some Tylenol and Gravol at 06:00 and managed to get 45 minutes of sleep before being woken up by an intense contraction. I didn't know what was happening and was caught off guard and I was not happy about it. I was trying to heave myself out of bed while trying to communicate to my sleepy husband. I said, "things are not good" as I clamored out of bed. In my sleepy state I was unable to tell where the intensity was coming from.

As it was the Christmas season, I was hesitant to bother the midwives. I knew I wasn't in active labour so aside from my regular appointment on Monday morning, I hadn't communicated with them. We were planning for a home birth so I wasn't concerned about calling them too late or getting to the hospital before labour was too intense. And it was my first baby so I assumed I had a long way to go.

Erik sweetly called the midwife at 08:30 because I needed some encouragement, advice, or wisdom. I knew my least favourite midwife was on call until 08:00 Christmas morning so I was torn between wanting to have this baby now and waiting until Boxing Day to deliver (because who wants a Christmas baby?) so I could have my preferred midwife.

The surges seemed to be subsiding after Erik's call to the midwife, but I still wanted her to come so we could talk about what was happening. I made the difficult decision to skip family festivities for the day so I could possibly get some sleep.

Christmas Eve happens to be when we do “Christmas” because my mom’s birthday is Christmas Day. I knew that participating in the festivities would be a little too much for me. I fully intended for Erik to still go and I would call him if I needed him to come home. I wasn’t interested in all the watchful eyes or in having others analyze every twinge or noise I made.

I have to admit that having a baby during the Christmas season presents unique challenges. I felt conflicted because I wanted support, but I didn’t want to pull my friends (Mandi and Abbie) away from their families on Christmas Eve. I needed a little TLC though so Erik decided to stay home with me. I was thankful for his company, but disappointed that he would be missing out on the family Christmas too. I felt a bit defeated because I wasn’t up for visiting with the family. I also didn't want to "ruin" Christmas by drawing attention to myself.

One last pregnancy photo. After calling the midwife and before she arrived on Christmas Eve.

The midwife arrived around 10:00am. She said we were having 'Monkey Labour' - labouring at night, as primates do, when they're safe from predators. Things were active at night, but stopped as the sun rose.

When planning for my labour I thought I didn't want any vaginal exams. That changed (as things often do). The midwife did a vaginal exam and determined that the baby was low again (at -1 or 0 station), I was an easy 5cm dilated (and she could stretch me to 7/8cm without much resistance), and my membranes were bulging. She said things were going to go quickly once they started. The midwife did another membrane sweep hoping to agitate things and left after giving strict instructions to call her as soon as things heated up.

I texted Mandi (a friend) and Abbie (our doula) to give them a heads up. They were both coming from Vernon so they would need a little bit more time to make their way over. I told them nothing was happening at the moment, but that things may progress quickly once they start.

Then Erik and I hunkered down to relax, nourish, and hydrate. I was a little worried about how I would handle a fast labour, but I pushed any negative thoughts from my mind and focused on resting. I knew it would be what it was and I would go along with it.

We started watching a show (something about nature, I think) but it didn’t last long because surges started again around 10:30.

Next: Part Three.

The Birth of Eliza Jane: Part One

Sit down, get comfortable and brew a cup of tea because this could take a while. Some preamble can be found in this post.

I am so glad I have email correspondence with my sister-in-law from this week and notes scrawled all over for this. And I have written the story in detail for myself (up until our first visitors, my sisters, arrived to meet the baby). It's interesting how memory of the experience is quite different from the facts I recorded during and shortly after the actual event.

Our baby was due December 18, 2014. I was more than happy to go overdue and was hoping to deliver sometime after Christmas and before New Years. My ideal date of delivery would have been December 27-29. My baby had other plans, as they usually do.

December 19.
The first twinges of changes started on Friday night as this was the first night in my entire pregnancy that I slept poorly. I woke up having some lower abdominal and lower back cramping accompanied by a few weak Braxton Hicks. I also felt slightly nauseated through the night. It felt a lot like getting my period, which can only be described as tolerably unpleasant. I ended up getting out of bed at 03:00 to drink a giant glass of water, hoping it would help. I slept fitfully until 06:00 and then decided to get up for good so as not to disturb Erik.

December 20.
Throughout the day I did have a few irregular contractions and continuous menstrual-like cramping. The contractions required little more than acknowledgment and sometimes a position adjustment. I didn't feel they were doing any work though I hoped they were encouraging cervical changes. Clearly they were doing something because I started losing my mucous plug. I did an internal exam as I was curious to see where the baby was and I could feel a nice hard head with my finger only an inch inside.

We had friends come visit in the evening and I started having a few mild contractions while they were over, but nothing that required my undivided attention. They left around 21:30 and we made our way to bed.

I started having regular contractions almost immediately. Again, they weren't super uncomfortable, but I was unable to fall asleep and I would break out in a sweat with each one. I did not want labour to start at night, but it occurred to me that it may be shaping up that way. I stayed in bed and timed the contractions -- they were lasting 45-60 seconds and coming 6.5-7 minutes apart.

Surges continued this way through the night and I tried my best to ignore them and rest between them.  I was surprised by how much focus they actually required. I wouldn't say they were painful, necessarily, but they were mighty uncomfortable and I did have to remind myself to breathe and relax through them. I remember needing to calm myself as I wondered how in the world I was going to handle what was coming if this was just "warm up".

I tried my best to not bother Erik. I didn't need his help at this point and I figured that one of us should get some sleep, if possible. I managed to doze between a few of the contractions, but it seemed they would hit me harder if they woke me.

I contemplated getting out of bed, but resisted the urge because I didn't want the baby to drop further and for labour to start up for real. I wasn't prepared to have a baby this early and definitely didn't want to start my labour in the middle of the night with no sleep.

Unfortunately, I was unable to sleep so I got out of bed at 02:00 and hoped things would either slow down or speed up. At this point I was having diarrhea after each contraction so I focused on keeping hydrated. The change in position helped and the contractions decreased in intensity. They were closer together (5.5 minutes), but were easier to manage.


I tried sleeping sitting up on the couch, but I was exhausted so I eventually crawled back into bed. I didn't last long because I found contractions much more manageable when I met them head on rather than being woken by them. I needed to focus and prepare myself to meet them -- being woken by them made it feel like they "got away from me" and I had to fight my body.

December 21.
By 06:00 contractions were less regular. They were anywhere from 30-60 seconds long and coming 5-12 minutes apart.

I finally admitted that I may be in pre-labor and that things were progressing. I knew it was still early and we had a long way to go (maybe even days), but I was already tired and this filled me with dread as I knew labour wouldn't wait until I was rested.

At around 09:00 the contractions stopped. I had a handful on Sunday, but they didn't amount to anything and didn't have any sort of intensity. We didn't end up going to church because I wanted to rest, but we carried on.

Sunday night was a bit better than the night before. I went to bed at 19:30 because I wanted to try get some sleep before my night labour started again. I managed to actually sleep from 20:00-20:30 before surges started again. They thankfully weren't as intense as the night before and they were 20-30 minutes apart.

I got out of bed and went to spend some time with Erik in the living room. When we eventually went to bed I decided to snuggle with Erik and deal with the contractions while laying down. I stayed in bed through them for most of the night, often breathing loudly to keep myself focused and to prevent myself from wriggling right out of bed. After each contraction I would get up to pee (and often have a bit of diarrhea) and then drink some water on my way back to bed.

I started feeling lower back pain with the contractions, which was miserable. I felt like the belly pain was manageable, but my back would have me fumbling out of bed mid-contraction in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.

December 22.
I was feeling pretty positive on Monday morning when I got out of bed (having not slept, again). I felt like I was getting some work done and that these contractions were getting the babe into a better position for delivery, if nothing else. Something was happening, even if it wasn't happening quickly. I started preparing myself for a holiday delivery thinking the babe would arrive at some point during the Jansen Family Christmas festivities. I was curious about how we were going to navigate a brand new baby and Christmas when I had been operating on the assumption that the babe wouldn't arrive until everyone had gone.


I had a chiropractor appointment followed by a midwife appointment. The midwife offered to do a vaginal exam and I was more curious than anticipated to see where we were at. I know labours all progress differently and dilation isn’t representative of how far you are or how close delivery is (until you’re there there), but I wanted to know if things were happening at all and how much more work I had cut out for me.

The midwife laughed and exclaimed, "there it is!" when her fingers were barely inside me. She was happy to inform us that I was already 3.5cm dilated and that my cervix was only 1cm long and thin. The midwife did a membrane sweep, which I hadn't anticipated wanting either, but things felt like they were progressing slowly and I was hoping some irritation would help it along.

I didn't have a single contraction all day and they came every 20-30 minutes through the night as they had the night before. I could tell my body was getting tired and I felt exhausted. I desperately tried to sleep on the exercise ball while leaning over the bed, but I couldn't find the right combination of pillows to make myself comfortable -- I felt like I was scrunching or stretching my belly and neither felt good.

I hardly slept that night despite my greatest efforts. I don't know what I thought about because I specifically noted being surprised by how nonchalant I was about my impending labour. I thought I would be excited or fixated on it, but I wasn't. At this point I thought I still had a week or so in me if need be. 

Next: Part Two.

Good Morning!

And hello, I suppose, as it's been a long while.

My break from blogging lasted a lot longer than I anticipated. And I can't really say that I'm "back", but I'm here for now and that has to count for something. I've been sitting here for a while thinking about what to start with.  As most of you know, I have a daughter named Eliza Jane. She is the sweetest thing even though she thinks she doesn't need naps at present.

I thought about writing about my pregnancy. I thought about skipping the last year and a half and starting with the present. I thought about writing about catching up on the highlights of my time away.

I'm a sucker for birth stories. I love them. Love them. So I thought I would start there and we'll see where I get. I will try keep the story as condensed as possible though I fear it will be much too long anyway. I don't know anyone who enjoys hearing birth stories as much as me so I won't bore you with my preferred depth of detail. However, consider this an open invitation to share every detail of your birth with me if you're ever interested or needing to debrief or you just want to make me happy.

Unfortunately, I feel the need to share a brief synopsis of my pregnancy as it plays into my labour and delivery.

When I miscarried in early 2014 it was a long process. I spent six weeks being told I was pregnant and likely miscarrying, but they could not confirm it because my hormone levels continued to rise, just not nearly fast enough. I spent six weeks having blood work multiple times a week and praying for a healthy child while hoping for confirmation of that tiny child's demise. I spent six weeks feeling conflicted and unworthy. My heart ached because I both wanted the child to live and thrive, but I also knew this outcome was highly unlikely so I just wanted certainty -- I wanted it to be over. It was a difficult time and the relief I experienced when my hormone levels finally started dropping left me feeling waves of guilt and more heart ache.

I found out I was pregnant for the second time on April 10, 2014. Again I felt conflicted.  I was hopeful, excited, hesitant, and terrified. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with a freshly baked pie and crying a bit, but mainly staring. Just staring. I grieved for the baby we lost, felt hope for the baby in my womb, but felt largely disconnected. I wanted joy and naive excitement, which I didn't get with either pregnancy.

I made the decision then and there that my motto for this pregnancy would be "consider it a blessing". All of it. I was determined to consider whatever time I had with that child a blessing whether it was a week, a month, or a long life. I was determined to love that baby for as long as it was entrusted to me.

I didn't tell Erik I was pregnant for a few days. I needed it to be my secret and needed time to process. We only told a few people in the beginning (8-10 weeks) and then shared the news with my family at 18 weeks. I couldn't hide it any longer at work at 22 weeks, but we didn't really "spread the news" until we were in the third trimester. It certainly wasn't how I envisioned things, but I needed time.

My pregnancy was an easy one physically, but there were a few bumps along the way. I started bleeding at five weeks and had two early ultrasounds (6 and 8 weeks) to keep an eye on things. My thyroid acted up requiring more blood work and an ultrasound of my neck.

The biggest issue was that my baby was breech. I'm pretty sure she sat herself down one day early on and liked it there. I only ever felt movement in my bowels and when she kicked it felt like her foot was going to come out of my cervix. They first mentioned that the babe was breech at my 20 week ultrasound, but then it wasn't a concern. Babe was still breech at 35 weeks so I started doing everything I could to encourage flipping. I tried moxibustion, spinning baby techniques, accupuncture, and visualization. Every time my baby moved I would jump up and put my knees on the couch and my face on the floor. I spent hours on all fours trying to encourage proper orientation, but had no luck.

Vaginal breech deliveries aren't offered in Kelowna, a breech baby is an automatic cesarean, so I started exploring my options. I called the Vernon Hospital because I'd heard of an Obstetrician who is known to deliver breech babes on occasion. I called his office and tried to figure out a way to stay in the Okanagan. My best bet was to transfer to Vancouver though, as the likelihood of being allowed to deliver vaginal breech there was greater. I called a doula in Vancouver and began preparing to transfer my care to midwives in that area.

The doula knew of a woman who rents out her basement to families in town for deliveries so we were considering that an option. I was hoping to stay with family until closer to delivery, but the plan was for Erik to drop me off on the coast at 38 weeks and to join me closer to 40. I researched breech deliveries and informed myself of best practices surrounding that situation.

I worked my last shift at 37+2 weeks (I was so happy that I saved my vacation time for December) and had a lengthy ultrasound that day which determined that our perfectly healthy cherub was still breech.

At 37+5 weeks (Tuesday) I started going to a chiropractor who specialized in the Webster Chiropractic Technique in hopes that would create enough room to encourage reorientation of the babe.

On Wednesday (37+6 weeks) I met with an Obstetrician in Kelowna. He did a bedside ultrasound and the stinker remained breech so he booked me in for an External Cephalic Version that Friday.

On Thursday (38 weeks) I had another midwife appointment where the babe continued to be breech and my last appointment with the chiropractor as she would only try the maneuver three times. That night I was no longer able to eat or drink in preparation for the procedure the next day.

I arrived at the hospital on Friday (38+1 weeks) and sent Erik to the coffee shop while I went for my ultrasound (they don't allow husbands in for the procedure). Before performing an External Cephalic Version they do an in depth ultrasound because of the risks involved in the procedure. The procedure is done in an operating room that is fully prepped for a stat cesarean section (though when I watched the procedure on youtube this wasn't the case). I was given a 25% chance of the procedure being successful and warned that it would be extremely painful.

So Erik left and I got up on the table. The ultrasound tech began the ultrasound just above my pubic bone and the first words out of her mouth were, "Well, there's your baby's head." I stared at her blankly and said, "You mean butt." She said, "No, look! Your baby is head down!" She knew I was booked for the version and she said she'd never been able to give a mama this news. She quickly finished a bare bone ultrasound as the in depth one was no longer required and sent me on my way, telling me to check in on the maternity ward anyway to talk to the obstetrician before leaving.

I went to find Erik at the coffee shop. I told him the baby had flipped and he smiled and told me he felt it happen the night before, but wasn't positive so he didn't want to get my hopes up. We made our way to Labour and Delivery and the Obstetrician looked as surprised and relieved as I was that the baby had decided to cooperate. He knew we were hoping for a home birth and the babe was in an unstable lie and not yet engaged so he recommended we come to the hospital at some point in early labour to check in and ensure the cord didn't get compressed under the head. And he sent us on our way.

We had one more ultrasound at 39+4 to ensure babe was still head down. She was happy, healthy, and properly oriented so we started looking toward delivery.

Next: Part One