Because most men couldn’t handle it. Period. I don’t know about you, but if I get a cold, I milk it for all it’s worth. You would think the end of the world was near. I’m betting you might know a man or two or three like this.
So I’m going to make a big statement. In this man’s humble opinion, women are the stronger sex and it’s time we acknowledge this. It’s my hope that this story serves to support this view.
But I digress. Before we dive into the labor side of this story, I’d like to give you a little background context. Due to the events of last year, (read more about them in my blog “My Trip On A Rocket Ship”), whether or not I was going to have an active role as the father of my child was very much up in the air. In fact, the chances of that were looking quite bleak.
But this story has a happy ending. It is a testament to the adage that anything is possible in life.
So back to the birth story.
Rather than going the “traditional route” of having a hospital birth, Liz chose to do an unmedicated, natural birth at a birthing center. Throughout the majority of her pregnancy, she worked with a Doula and a Midwife as opposed to an obgyn or obstetrician.
Her “estimated” due date, was set for around February 14th. However, she was now 2 weeks and a couple days overdue. And apparently at 42 weeks in California, legally a midwife is not allowed to deliver a baby without the supervision of a doctor. So we had to make a decision. Either transfer care to a doctor or to hire one to be in attendance for the birth. We chose the latter and found an amazing obstetrician who only does home and birthing center births.
The intention was for her to labor at home until her cervix had dilated to about 5-6 cm and the contractions were about 5 minutes apart. At that time, we’d drive to the birthing center. Frankly we had no idea what a wild ride we were about to get on. About 3 am Friday morning March 2nd, she began to go into pre-labor contractions.
As she tells me, at first they weren’t that intense, lasting about 1 minute and happening every 10-20 minutes. This lasted throughout all of Friday. We went about our day normally. Had dinner and watched Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. But at about 7 pm, the contractions became about 6-10 minutes apart and the level of discomfort she was experiencing went up dramatically. I’d love to say that I stayed up all night with her, but sadly that was not the case. I conked out at about midnight.
When I awoke at about 5 am on Saturday morning, she was in a lot of pain. I did what I could to help keep her calm but honestly I didn’t seem to have the right things to say.
She decided to call her doula and she came over right away. Thank goodness she was there. She was a real pro. Over the course of the next couple of hours, she talked and walked with Liz. Apparently the baby’s head was positioned on her pelvis in such a way that she was experiencing most of her contractions in her back, and the pain was excruciating. During that time, the Doula thought it would be a good idea to call our doctor to let him know what was going on. He was kind enough to make a house visit at about 7:30 am to look in on her.
As an aside, I’m quite certain that if our roles were reversed, I would have tapped out by now. But not Liz. She was doggedly determined to do this and wasn’t ready to stop until she got to the finish line. I wanted so badly to take away her pain, but I also knew it was a part of her journey. She was the picture of resilience, courage, strength and trust.
For about the next 6 and 1/2 hours, Liz weathered the storm. Finally at about 2:30 pm, a decision was made to make the drive to the birthing center. Here’s the caveat, the birthing center was about 1 hour away. At this point, she had already endured about 35 hours of labor with no sleep and only a little food. She was near the point of exhaustion. We packed our bags and were loaded up to go. Now we just had to make it there.
I did all I could during the trip to remain calm and be very present for her, but admittedly I was petrified she might give birth on the way there. She was such a goddess warrior, digging down deep and practiced her breathing techniques. As a way of release, she emitted a moan throughout her contractions that was perhaps one of the most primal sounds I’ve ever heard. It took on the tone of Om, the sound of creation. It was eerie yet profoundly beautiful to me. So much so that I actually recorded it.
We finally arrived at the birthing center at about 3:30 pm. I was tired, so I can’t even begin to imagine how Liz must have been feeling. They ushered us into the room where she would ultimately give birth to our son. It was set up like a bedroom, but with a tub in it. Over the course of the next 4 hours, they attempted myriad tactics to get the little one to come earth side.
First they had her use gravity- hanging her arms from a rung on a ladder while she squatted. It was just the two of us in the room at that point. But nothing was happening. When the midwife came in about 45 minutes to an hour later, she suggested that Liz might have a genetic mutation called MTHFR which can prolong labor by days. To help make the contractions more effective, she thought it would be a good idea if she would drink a giant water bottle of castor oil which was blended with apricot juice and almond butter to speed things up.
The next step was to attempt a water birth. Both our doctor and midwife were now present. It seems that her water had yet to break and baby boy just wasn’t ready to come out. An hour passed, but still nothing.
Lastly they moved her to the bed. I was holding back one of her legs while the doula was holding back the other.For the next 60+ minutes she pushed and pushed and pushed but to no avail. Liz got to the point where she was crying saying that she couldn’t do it anymore. The doctor told her to look at him, then he said to her very directly, “You have to. No one else can do it for you.” It was so hard to watch the one you love going through something so arduous.
Creeping up on the 40 hour mark, the doctor now felt her contractions were not strong enough to push the baby down the birth canal. Added to the mix was the fact that after each contraction and subsequent push, the baby’s heart rate would remain at a decelerated beat count for longer and longer durations. The doctor felt it was getting to a point where there could be complications if this continued too long. He made the call to do a vacuum assist rather than transport to a hospital for a c-section.
He wanted us to know that during the procedure, there was a great likelihood that the suction would pop off. But he assured us that was normal. More than anything, it would be startling if it happened. Admittedly this was the first time I began to get nervous and scared for both Liz and our baby.
The next thing we knew he was inserting the suction cup and putting on our baby’s head. He told Liz that on her next contraction, she was to push, and at the same time, he would be pulling. He attached the suction and when the next contraction came, he began to pull. Still no baby.
She rested for a few brief moments before the next effort. This time there was baby movement. It was to the point where his head began to crown. But guess what? At that exact moment, the suction cup popped off. And even though I knew it could happen, it was a seriously shocking sound and sight.
Get this, I had no idea that our baby had a whole head of hair, so when the suction came off, it looked like part of the head had come off too. I was so scared.
But in reality, all that had happened was it had ruffled his hair and it was now sticking up. Laughable right? But not in the moment. I was so relieved.
The doctor was now able to begin to bring him out.
The doc told me that I was the one who was going to deliver him now. He had me place both my hands on either side of his head and encouraged me to begin drawing him out, leading him down first to get the top shoulder out, then up so as to free the bottom shoulder. Blood was everywhere, and normally it would probably freak me out, but I was operating on auto-pilot and completely in the moment. As the babies torso began to slide out, he had Liz reach down and grab him, and bring him up to her chest. Skye gurgled, grabbing his first breath of air and began to cry gently.
Tears began to flow down my cheeks. I was filled with such immense joy and at the same time overwhelming relief that both Liz and our son were safe. But we weren’t finished yet. She still had to give birth to the placenta. That happened over the next few minutes. Once it was out, it was placed in a bowel by her side. I was then asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical chord. Without hesitation I said yes. Our baby boy was now solely living off of oxygen.
Liz was completely spent, so after a few minutes they had me hold Skye. That first moment of skin to skin was beyond words. Our little baby boy was safe and sound here on the planet and was resting in my arms
It should go without saying that the birth of our son was a gnarly experience for Liz. Shortly after they gave the baby to me, our obstetrician had to stitch up a labia tear and some internal tearing. She had lost so much blood that she was feeling dizzy and looked super pale. So they decided to give her and IV drip. The blessing that came from this (other than it brought her back to feeling better) is that for the next hour or so I got to hold Skye as we sat in a chair opposite his mother.
At about 11:30 pm we put Skye in the car seat and headed home for our first night as a family. I was exited yet tremendously scared for what was about to come…parenthood. More on this soon!
Without question, witnessing and participating in the birth of my son was the most amazingly profound experience I will ever have. From beginning to end, it was wondrously primal, deeply awe-inspiring and simply miraculous.
Thanks for reading,
Adam
