Arwyn Claire’s Quick Arrival

Arwyn is almost a month old now, so it’s about time I wrote about her birth! Seriously, I have a hard time believing it’s already been 4 weeks, but when the days and nights all run together, I guess it’s not hard to see how that happens. On to the birth:

(Disclaimer: this is a birth story with real birth info. It may not be suitable for some audiences. Don’t read this if you get queasy!)

Thursday, March 5th, dawned with contractions at 5 am. I had been having braxton hicks contractions on and off for days. And really, it’s hard to tell when those end and early labor begins. But this was a week before my due date, so of course this could be the real thing. Somehow I managed to go back to sleep. Little did I know that 24 hours later I would have a baby in my arms.

When I woke with my alarm at 8, I thought, “this could be the day.” So I made sure to take a shower (and miracle of miracles, shave my legs!) instead of laying in bed looking at Facebook until it was too late and dry shampoo was required… as per the norm for a Thursday morning.

But even if this was the day, I should probably just go about life as usual. Avie and I went to yoga, only to find it cancelled due to “snow”, which has pretty much melted by 10am. (School was cancelled too, so I can’t blame her.) We thought we’d spend some time with our friends, but they were under the weather and didn’t want to share their sickness so close to my due date. Plans cancelled. The next best thing: a nap.

Avie watched a show and I napped on the couch until Ansen came home for lunch. I think I may have told him about the contractions, but I don’t remember. After lunch Avie took a nap and I had to work, 3-5pm. I did inform my supervisor that had been having contractions, but that they were probably just false labor. After all, I had 2 days of this stuff with Avie and I just knew this time baby girl would be late as well.

As 5 o’clock came and went, I decided to call the birthing center, just to let them know I *might* be in early labor. Things had definitely not slowed down. The Midwife just said to call when I thought I needed to come in and to change positions, drink some water, all the things that will often stop braxton hicks. Only they didn’t. I texted my sister-in-law to be on standby for Avie… just in case.

By dinner time, I had to stop what I was doing with each contraction. But they were still 10-15 minutes apart and not really doing much. We put Avie to bed and, being Thursday, Ansen went to play some video games online with friends. I, on the other hand, first thought about all the things I should be doing, all the nesting things… and then I decided I didn’t care, I was tired and this was getting uncomfortable. So I watched some TV. Now, they were getting a little more intense.

At this point, I probably should have warned Ansen, so he had some idea what was happening. Instead, still being in denial myself, I decided I should get some rest because I would probably actually go into labor tomorrow. (Just as a note, I never go to bed before Ansen. It just doesn’t happen. That should have been my que… and maybe his.)

At 2am, I woke up with contractions I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t lay down any more. With Avie, I didn’t want to get up, I wanted to lay. But now, with this one, I just couldn’t. I wanted to be on my hands and knees. But I was sleepy and I still wasn’t sure this was progressive labor. So I went to the living room, put a blanket over my exercise ball (since it was cold) and another over my shoulders and laid over the ball. I did a few contractions, falling asleep between them… and then… the moaning.

Low moaning was the only way I could deal with labor the first time around and when it started almost involuntarily this time, I knew, things just got real. I had been timing them and they were erratic, but they were 5, 6, 7 minutes apart. I had been holding off on waking Ansen because I knew as soon as I decided it was time to go, we had to wake a whole slew of people. Avie, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, the midwife, etc. But it was time.

At 3am, I woke Ansen and I told him it was time to go. To be fair, with little warning and immediately after waking him it wasn’t his best thinking time. BUT he was very unsure and almost didn’t believe me. He kept saying, “are you sure? Maybe we should time some. 7 minutes apart? They’re still erratic.” But I assured him, the moaning meant things were serious. I practically threw my phone at him, telling him to call the birth center, while I gathered the last few things for my bag.

He dressed. And then, changed and stumbled around. (Again, 3am, not his best thinking time.) I offered to let him put things in my bag. He said no, he didn’t need anything. Then a few contractions later, he decided to pack his own bag. At this point, with each contraction, I needed him to press on my back as I laid over the exercise ball. To his credit, he did stop everything each time to do this. Finally, after several calls to wake the in-laws (again, 3am!), and packing the vue only to move it (almost) all to the van, and grabbing last minute things, like shoes for Avie, we were in the car. It was just after 4am. Never mind that the car seat and it’s base was still in the other vehicle. But more on that later.

Ansen called our parents along the way. “So, what’s her middle name going to be?” “I’m thinking Claire?” “Me too.” Then we had to make a quick stop in Springdale to drop Avie with the in-laws in a liquor store parking lot. I had been dreading the car ride, but somehow, I managed and it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

5am we walk into the birth center in Rogers. The midwife was already there, as another woman had come in an hour before. She lead me to a room and told me to make myself comfortable. Ansen brought in our bags and I immediately had a contraction. She said, “oh, that does sound serious.” We settled in while she ran around grabbing supplies and getting things ready. She asked if I wanted checked and I said “yes please!” because I needed to know where I was starting from. Praying I was at least 4cm. After all, this is what a 4 felt like the first time… I think. Baby amnesia makes everything hard to remember.

“I think you’re a good… seven!” She said enthusiastically. “You did a lot of work at home!” SEVEN. Praise Jesus! I was so relieved to know that we were way closer than I had even dared to think. Into the warm tub I went, as soon as I was able. A couple of contractions sitting and that did not work. Since it was a free standing tub, I turned around, on my knees and leaned over the back edge.

Two contractions, maybe three and the midwife said, “let us know when you feel like you need to use the bathroom or push.” No sooner had she said that, than I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. With Ansen’s help, I made it to the toilet in the room. I immediately realize that was NOT what I needed, but that I was actually ready to push. Back into the tub, the midwife by the side and Ansen sitting behind me.

It was at this point Ansen realized his own need for the restroom. He thought he was ready to settle into some serious coaching. I told him, “You’d better hurry!!” One contraction and a push. Pop. My waters broke. (I swear, one day I may have a mermaid birth!) I turned to the midwife, “He’s going to miss it!” “No he’s not, you’re doing just fine.” Ansen rushed back in the room. A fleeting thought, as soon as I push again, she’s going to be here. This is the point of no return. Second contraction and a push. “Is that the…” “Yes, that’s the head.” Third contraction, the head was out, but she didn’t just pop right out the way Avie had. I had to push again during the contraction to get her shoulders free.

Then, the midwife was handing her to me. There she was. Just looking up at us. Arwyn Claire. “She doesn’t look anything like Avie did. Her nose is different.” Once the cord stopped pulsing, the midwife clamped it and let Ansen cut it (a thing he was not eager to do the first time). Then a couple of pushes and the placenta came. The midwife handed Arwyn to Ansen and helped me to the bed. Skin to skin. She came out hungry and latched right away.

The birth was over, she was here. We finally got a hold of Ansen’s parents. He sent a text with pictures to everyone. “Well… how did you spell Claire?” I asked. “C-L-A-I-R-E.” “Ok then.” “Is that ok?” “Sure!” But here’s where things got a little tricky. A small piece of the placenta was missing. Possibly still attached. There was extra bleeding. And clotting. Lots and lots of fundal “massages” (which is more like a punch to the gut than a massage). A friend had asked, after an episode of Call the Midwife if hemorrhaging still happens. It does.

Time to get up to go the bathroom for the first time. I can’t. I’m too dizzy. The nurse, a true saint, sat with me on the edge of the bed. She helped me to the toilet. When things started going black, she helped me to the floor.  After laying on the floor for a while, unable to stand, this tiny woman literally drug me back to the bed on a towel. There is no dignity in childbirth. I was given some kind of pills to hold against my cheek for maximum absorption. “Drink.” I drank as much water and gatorade as I could. I’m bad a drinking. The clots still kept coming.

The in-laws brought Avie by to meet her baby sister for the first time (and food. that was very important too!). It was a precious moment to watch her. She was so excited. “My baby sister is out!” she told everyone. She held her for about 5 seconds before declaring, “Maybe you should hold her.”

During this time, I started to feel worse. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like passing out while lying down. But I did. The nurse (again, I cannot say enough about this woman! She was simply amazing.) came with the midwife. They threatened the hospital and said we’d try one more thing and if this didn’t help… the hospital. I got an IV to bring my fluids back up and hopefully help me feel better enough to get up and go to the bathroom. A full bladder inhibits the ability of the uterus to shrink back down and all the water I had drank needed to come out. Since I had brought adult diapers, the nurse suggested I go in it, since I couldn’t get up. That didn’t work. Too many years of potty training, I guess. Then we attempted squatting at the side of the bed. Again, no dignity, but it worked.

We took a short nap and things started to change. Finally, I could sit up. I could go to the bathroom, assisted, of course. I ate some more. I drank some more. More fundal massages. We got a hold of my sister and made arrangements for them to bring the carseat over. They started talking about releasing me. I got dressed. I made it to the bathroom on my own. Whew, that was finally over. Healthy baby. Finally healthy mama. Car seat arrived and we got to go home. First stop, Five Guys and TCBY!