Connor's Birth Story

I have some time right now to jot down my thoughts and experiences on Connor's birth. I'm in awe at how well everything went and how great it all turned out to be. Birth is truly a miraculous thing, and there's so much beauty and power in the intensity of it all. If medical stuff makes you squeamish, you may want to skip this post. It's also going to include more details than you probably want to know, so be warned of the length.

To set the scene, my due date was May 18th, but because I was measuring large and had excess fluids, my midwives recommended I consider induction measures closer to 39 weeks rather than the traditional 40. I started taking evening primrose oil around 36 to help my body prepare for labor, though the oil itself wouldn't actually start labor. About a week ago, I pulled out my breast pump I used with Paige and used that to stimulate my body, which encourages the uterus to contract. I could tell my body responded when I used the pump, but nothing beyond cramping.

Saturday night, I started getting some pretty strong contractions. I could tell they were more than Braxton Hicks because of their intensity and location (I felt them a lot in my back, which I didn't with other false labor). I spent the evening trying to tell if my body was really going into labor or if things would settle down. I decided to spend that evening sewing the quilt I was making for my son. I had been making him a blanket and been working on it for a few weeks, but it wasn't quite finished yet, so between contractions, I sewed. I tried to time my contractions, and while they were frequent, they never stayed consistent. I could also talk through them, which made me think labor wasn't kicking in just yet. I ultimately took a shower and that made the contractions subside enough that I could sleep for the night.

Sunday, I finished my quilt, not wanting that to be a mental roadblock for this baby to come. I knew I was only 38 and a half weeks along, but I also felt that this baby was coming sooner than that. At my last midwife appointment on the 3rd of May, I asked to be checked to know how far dilated I was, if any. They said I was about a one, but part of me thinks they were being nice and generous with that number. I was also a little effaced, but again, not by much. However, when I finished and scheduled my next appointment for May 10th, I had a thought that I wouldn't make it that long. I figured it was wishful thinking. 

I'm not sure when the idea of May 9th popped into my head. I think it was after May 4th came and went and he wasn't born on Star Wars day. But for the past little while, I kept thinking he might be born on May 9th. I had no reason for this other than a small impression, and I wouldn't have been surprised if that day passed without progress. My mom called me Monday evening (May 8th), and I mentioned to her my impression but told her that so far, things felt normal. During the phone call, I started getting some contractions I would label as Braxton Hicks, which of course got my hopes up, as well as my mom's. 

I spent some time with Stephen playing games, and for a while my body settled. Around 11:30, things had picked up slightly again, and I decided I would try to pump and see what happened. The pumping again caused my body to react, and the contractions strengthened. I could still walk and talk through them, though. Stephen and I decided we would just have to wait and see, so we went to bed. I'm grateful Stephen was able to get some sleep, but my body wasn't so relaxed. I used an app to time the length and spacing of the contractions, and while I don't think I was all that accurate at pushing the buttons at the right time, my phone was saying they were three to five minutes apart and each lasted a minute to a minute and a half. 

At 1:45, I decided I better shower and see if the contractions lasted through it or not, because either I needed to begin making arrangements or get some sleep. While the shower helped to cope through the contractions, they didn't stop. At two, I sat down on the bed, which was enough to rouse Stephen awake. We talked about what was happening a bit, trying to decide if it was go time. 

While talking, the contractions became stronger, and we decided to call the midwives. Through the phone call, I had several more contractions, which was enough to convince all of us that this indeed was real labor, and we agreed to meet soon at the birthing center. Stephen gathered our things and loaded the car while I called Denise, Stephen's Aunt, who had agreed to take Paige while I was in labor. I then went and woke up Paige, who was confused but complied. We left the house shortly after three and dropped Paige off, then went to the birthing center, where I arrived at 3:30.

It was as if my body had been as uncertain as I was whether or not this was real labor, but once I decided it was, my body shifted into labor mode. My contractions were consistent and intense. Up until after the shower, I had been able to cope with them by breathing or walking. After the shower, I needed some more counter-pressure, so Stephen would push on my hips while I pretended to hula hoop. 

In the car, I used my voice to make low tones, remembering that from last time, and tried my best to relax and allow my body to do what it needed to. I feel like I handled my contractions a lot better this time around than with Paige, mostly because I knew what to expect. I had a lot of little mantras I repeated to myself, like "my body is doing what it should" and "I am capable" and other positive affirmations. 

At the birthing center, I was trying to keep things lighthearted, but I was really afraid they would send me home. That mostly why I tried laboring at home as much as possible before calling my midwives. I knew less than a week ago, I was hardly dilated. I begged my midwife to reassure me that I was more dilated than that, and that my body was indeed making progress enough to consider this the real deal. When she told me I was at a seven, I gave Stephen a high five. It was such a relief to realize how much progress I had already made and know I was 3/4th of the way done. 

I got in the tub, knowing I wanted a water birth and remembering how much relief that brought me last time. Stephen sat next to me and held my hand, helping to repeat some of my mantras and encourage me that I was doing a good job. There was a moment of excitement when I looked at him and realized we were really having this baby now.

My midwife team consisted of Trinette, the lead midwife, and three student midwives whose names I can't remember. They helped me get situated in the tub, brought me water and juice, and set up the nixtrous oxide for me, which was my saving grace last time. I sure appreciated having it again, though I wasn't nearly as out of it like I was last time. I felt mentally present and aware, which I think was what had gotten me to that point in the first place.

One of the midwives sat above my head and put a cool cloth on my forehead and spoke me through each contraction like it was a meditation, reminding me to relax different parts of my body to help me focus. I also asked Stephen to play Geronimo by Sheppard on repeat, and that helped me to track the passing of time. The last coping mechanism I had was the jets in the tub, which helped the water to stir, giving me a lot of relief. 

The urge to push sneaked up on me. Halfway through a contraction, I felt the desire to push and tried a bit, but not enough that I consider it a full push. I wanted someone to come check to make sure I was fully dilated. The next contraction, the urge was much stronger, and I couldn't hold still through it nearly like I could with the other contractions.

I think it was then that I gave a good grunting yell while I pushed, alerting everyone in the building it was time. The other midwives rushed to my side, slightly surprised at how quickly I was ready. The second time I gave a real push, I could tell he was close. One of the student midwives was checking me while that second contraction started and declared I was crowning. I reached down and felt the top of his head, which gave me enough courage to push through one more contraction, and out he came at 4:31.

They placed him on my chest and he began breathing. He never outright cried like they do on tv, but he was wiggling and grunting and breathing great from the get go. I was feeling slightly delirious at that point, but I was really grateful to be done. I still had to deliver the placenta and requested more laughing gas for that, mostly because I was scared, but that came just fine as well. Connor was in perfect position for birth and the cord was down low and not in the way at all. We did a delayed cord clamping to give him all the blood we could from it. He was very content and just snuggled up to me through it all. 

Once I felt able to stand, I moved across the hall to the bedroom and rested. They checked me and said I had torn a little internally, and that I had the option to either use stitches or just be careful for the next week. I opted for the second. I was feeling especially sore, more so than I remembered with Paige, but otherwise, I was fine. They gave us some food and let us rest for a bit. 

I did a lot of skin-to-skin with Connor while Stephen and I discussed his name. Connor had been the front runner as far as names were concerned for a while. I was hesitant to commit, but for months Stephen had been referring to him as Connor, which caused me to do the same. I began telling Paige that baby brother's name was Connor, even though I hadn't quite felt settled. With Paige, I had such a neat spiritual experience with her name, but never had the same sensation with Connor. As we laid in bed and looked at him though, other names we had considered just didn't seem right. We both felt good about Connor though, and decided to go with that. Bruce is Stephen's middle name, and the family tradition is to pass that on, so we had that chosen for a long time. 

Eventually, the midwives did their routine examinations for Connor while I ate some food with two hands. He didn't cry at all while they checked him out, but rather just looked around and grunted a bit. Oh, that's one thing I've noticed--he's loud. Not in a crying way, but rather just noisy. He'd be grunting or cooing almost constantly. Even in his sleep, each sigh out sounded like a cute little snore, which helped me know he was alive. He also kept blowing a lot of bubbles from his mouth due to clearing out his lungs still, and it was really cute.

He checked out in every area just fine. Ten toes and ten fingers. He measured 20 inches long. When they were going to weigh him, everyone gave their guesses, and I guessed on the dot at 8 pounds and 6 ounces. For still having another week and a half before his due date, his size was impressive, just like the ultrasound had said. I'm grateful I gave birth when I did as far as his size is concerned. Once he and I were both declared stable, we tried a bit of nursing. He latched pretty well at the first go and soon fell asleep at the breast. I laid him down and tried to get some rest myself. Stephen was able to sleep some more, but said he was feeling alright and would help however he was needed to. It was good to relax but I never feel asleep at the birthing center. 

Connor didn't sleep long before I held him some more. I tried latching him again, but he either wasn't getting it or not interested. I'm not too worried though, knowing that he had already latched earlier. Stephen held him for a while too as we just sat and enjoyed our new family addition. Eventually, I showered and got myself cleaned up and dressed. Stephen and I both ate some more (giving birth can make a person hungry) and Connor eventually fell back asleep in my arms. 

At this point, it was about 8:30, and we decided to not use our additional stay time and just head home. We were home by nine this morning. I was understandably tired and took a nap. Connor was also sleeping, and for a while, I tried having him in the room with me, but since he's such a noisy sleeper, I couldn't mentally relax enough, so Stephen moved him to his room upstairs. He's currently still asleep, recovering from the eventful night he had. I napped for a while and then got up to eat and figured I would write this story out while it was all still fresh in my head. 

One of my biggest take away from last night was how powerful I am. Birth can be a scary, daunting task, but it doesn't have to be. I was scared with Paige because I had no idea what my body was doing. I resisted the contractions and clenched up during them. I didn't want to push so I stalled. I panicked at the pain. 

This time, however, I felt much more mentally prepared because I knew what to expect from my body. I recognized my contractions as such and was able to roll with them rather than fight them. I could talk myself through each wave and had coping mechanisms I could rely on. I really felt empowered and brave. I was mentally present and used that to encourage my body forward. When it was time to push, I admittedly was scared, but at the same time, I knew what was on the other side of the tunnel, and I just wanted to get there as quick as I could. I knew I could do it, and so I did it. 

I rocked labor and delivery, if I do say so myself. I really was a champion through it all and did everything right. It was such a beautiful, empowering, and quick experience for which I'm grateful. I also know I couldn't have done it without great support from both sides of heaven. It was not painless, but I did it anyway, and I feel really proud of myself for that. All that being said, I don't judge anyone for the way they choose to give birth (or sometimes, don't choose but have to do anyway). However, I loved my experience of natural birth and truly felt it was a better experience for me without interventions. I'm so grateful for my amazing body and what it's capable of.

I also can't end this without a shout out to Stephen, Paige, and Connor. Stephen is my rock, and he handles situations so well. I know I can count on him to be level headed and do what needs to be done. I also am so grateful for the bond we share and the trust I have in him. There are plenty of parts about pregnancy, birth, and recovery that are straight up embarrassing, but he never holds them against me. He just loves me unconditionally, and I'm so blessed for that. 

Paige has also been very cooperative through my difficult pregnancy. She obviously wasn't a part of the birth much, but I'm excited to watch her meet Connor and for her to be a big sister. I know she'll do well. She's been excited for baby brother, though I'm not sure how much she comprehends what it all means. But I look forward to watching their bond grow.

I'm also super grateful Connor cooperated with this delivery. He came into this world with such ease. I'm glad he chose to come to us sooner rather than later, and that he positioned himself correctly. He worked with the contractions just as well as I did, and since he's been born, he's been so peaceful. I don't know all of his quirks or personality yet, but I know he's going to be a blessing to our family.

I am so blessed to have the family I have. I'm so humbled by the love that is around me, and I'm honored to love these special people for eternity. I'm grateful for my birthing experience with Connor, and I'm glad I can share my joy with you all. Thank you for the support and encouragement you've offered to me and my family. Ultimately, I'm grateful I have happy, healthy, eternal family.