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I went to my 38 week appointment and had no significant contractions to report and no other signs that a baby was coming soon. Still, based on the fact that DS came at 39 weeks and my mom had all her babies at 39 weeks, the midwife said she wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t make my next appointment.

That following week, I did start having short episodes of pre-labor contractions. Stronger, semi-regular for a little while, and then gone. They felt like early labor, not braxton hicks. Until Wednesday, December 14. Two days shy of my due-date. Starting around 6pm I had contractions that were 6-9 minutes apart. They progressively got a little stronger and hung around til noon the next day. With that 18 hour episode, I learned what “prodromal labor” means. Over the next week I had a number of shorter (1-3 hour) episode of prodromal labor pretty much daily. I felt exhausted, frustrated, and like I wouldn’t know when it was real. However I did read that prodromal labor can make active labor shorter. That was nice to read as my labor with DS was very long and extremely painful. But then I also worried I wouldn’t know it was labor until too late. I didn’t tell DH about any of these episodes because I didn’t want to keep crying wolf. So I just continued on. Increasingly grumpy with the world. 

On Monday, December 19 (3 days past due date), the familiar, uncomfortable prelabor contractions began around 6pm. I didn’t tell DH. Around 10pm they became more intense. I was still able to get little intervals of sleep. At 1am I was no longer able to sleep but stayed in bed and still figured they’d die off. At 3pm I was just up. I couldn’t lay down through them anymore. I got up, watched a movie, got on the birth ball, and labored through them. At that point I still felt it was like a 50:50 chance these would end in a baby. By 4am I decided to call the on-call midwife. She said come on in and get checked for progress. That 2nd babies can come quickly and it sounded like labor. I told her I’d like to wait a little bit to get DS off for the day and she said that sounded fine unless things got more intense. I paced around downstairs not knowing what to do for a while. All that prodromal labor had me questioning myself. I felt lost about the whole thing. I wanted DH’s help but wanted him to get as much sleep as possible and didn't know if I was over reacting. I wanted to call Liz (our doula) for help but also wanted her to sleep. Finally at 5am I woke DH up. The contractions were strong (I couldn’t do anything through them) and rhythmic (every 5-6 minutes). I told him that I thought this could be it and I’d like him to get moving slowly, no rush.

Then I got a little panicky. I felt like it was it but felt so frustrated because I was insecure about knowing whether or not it would quit on me again. But the contractions were strong and close. It made me nervous. I was packing up and cleaning and directing DH with nervous energy. “Take a short shower” (he took a long one). “Eat breakfast.” “Load the car.” “Call Liz. Have her come.” “Call the neighbors, send DS over.” I'll admit it. I was panicked. Is it labor?! Is it prodromal?! Am I getting everyone amped for nothing? Am I waiting too long and going to have to deliver my own baby!??!?!! I told DH we need to go. This was about 6am. He called Liz to redirect her and she said she was a couple minutes away. I decided to wait for her and talk with her and then we’d go.

The moment she arrived and we sat down, with a shaky voice told her how I was feeling. I described my contractions and my frustrations about not feeling like I could know if this was it or not. This whole time I was pausing and coping with the contractions through each one. She immediately helped me 180 my attitude. This is normal, she reassured me. Everything is going well, she said. Let’s head on in when you are ready. Her vibe was so calm and loving.

I calmed down instantly. The contractions chilled out a bit. I felt I really needed to walk. The sun wasn’t quite up but it was a mild morning - about 30F. DH and I took our dog for a walk on the paths behind the house. High winds had driven the recent snow into drifts and I sank into the crust, making the walk a little challenging but nice as it helped loosen my hips. DH suggested we turn around but I just gave him a look like “why would we do that?” and kept going. I was becoming less and less vocal the longer I was in labor. I would stop and sway through each contraction.

It was so beautiful out. The snow and the mountains surrounded by the dark sky. A nearby hawk sprang from the ground and glided over our heads while we watched. I felt like it was almost ridiculous how majestic the setting was and how beautiful it all felt. It made me smile in between contractions. Our dog pooped. Good girl.

As we headed through the field, the sun started to rise, casting the drifted snow in a rosey light before illuminating the sky in a brilliant flaming pink. I would turn around periodically and see DH with his phone - I knew he was timing my contractions as he saw them with my swaying. I felt nervous to go back. Nervous to go to the hospital. This all felt so right. I wanted to keep doing just that. I didn’t want the fluorescent lights. I didn’t want the sterile halls. I totally understood why people have home births.

We made it back to the neighborhood sidewalk and I got a particularly good break between contractions and asked DH how far apart they were. I would have guessed 7-10 minutes. He said they were right about 4 minutes apart, lasting about 45 seconds (which was a little short as I didn’t sway through the start of the contractions). Then I knew we needed to head in. I felt a little panicked about it as I didn’t realize they were so close. And I still didn’t want to leave that setting. And I didn’t know how long I had - what if I was screwing this timing all up and had my baby in the car? I had my music in my ears and the Pat Metheny song “Last Train Home” came on as we pulled out of the driveway. This pulled me out of my what-ifs and back to my body as I chuckled between contractions. This was it. After all the starts and stops, May’s last train home.

The ride took about 20 minutes - wasn’t that bad - and I walked in. We checked in and my contractions picked up and became much closer. That made me a little nervous but turned out to be the change in setting. I was checked into a room around 8am and the nurse tried to place my IV buff cap. She failed twice and got someone else in there. All the while the contractions were strong (as they had been) and coping through this was tough.

The midwife came in - it was Pam! The midwife who delivered DS! We really liked her and this was a welcome, familiar surprise. She brought a wonderful presence to the room. She checked me and said “AWESOME. You’ve done some serious laboring at home I see.” I was 6cm, baby was at -2. I was SO RELIEVED. With DS, I did not progress quickly at all. I was worried I would find something similar to be true. I hadn’t even puked yet! There wasn’t any shaking! I was working with it all!

I went to the tub. This whole time I was trying a different approach than with DS. With DS I was focused on the “truth” that labor is painful. I thought I could brace myself for the contractions, release my mind, breath through them. This time I embraced the contractions. I didn’t allow myself to think of it as pain, but as progress. I found the mantra “down baby down” and rather than focusing on what the contractions were doing to me, I thought about what May and I were doing with the contractions. I imagined her little head rounding through my pelvis, sneaking downward toward as my body opened around her. I felt proud of her for (FINALLY) being ready to be born into the world. I exhaled through my body.

Being in the tub, the contractions were milder. I had heard about the tub stalling labor for some. I wondered if this was happening. I decided I didn’t believe it. The contractions felt productive. While part of me wanted to lean into them, to grip it and rip it, no pain - no gain, a more commanding voice said that pain isn’t the same as progress. You can do this gracefully and with time. Flowing through these contractions is right for right now and you don’t need to rush the process. So I continued on. DH was with me the whole time. Providing perfect relief in massage and pressure in exactly the right places. Giving me loving looks of adoration and encouragement. Holding my hand. We had soft candle light (thanks to Liz). Lavender oil in the bath. My labor playlist wrapping the room in peaceful, soulful music. The song that played as I was giving birth to DS came on and I started whimpering and crying. Not from pain (as I think DH assumed) but from feeling so grateful we would soon have our family of four. Full of love for my amazing little boy who came into the world so strong. I labored on for a while - little nagging thoughts in the back of my mind (when will my water break? When will I have the labor poops? When will things get unbearable?)

I felt like I needed to poop. I was nervous to get out of the tub. I knew things would be more harsh when I left the cushioning warm water. I was right.

I went to the toilet but didn’t poop. Instead, my uterus started contracting in a different, more intense way. It was surging down hard. I started moaning through the contractions. This whole labor experience I didn’t trust myself in gauging pain. First, I didn’t allow myself to think about the pain as I wanted to think about the contractions as uncomfortable but productive. Second, the prodromal labor made me start to doubt myself on what a strong contraction actually felt like. Well, I’d been feeling strong contractions for the whole pre-labor experience I can now say in retrospect.

Labor this time was both a very in-body and out-of-body experience at the same time. I was observing myself based on what I had heard and read about labor while at the same time, really trusting and feeling what my body was doing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before. It doesn’t even make sense in any other context. So, there I was, on the toilet. Not pooping but surging through contractions and hearing my moans. “This is it” I thought. I was so unsure of myself but decided to call out based on the sounds I heard myself making. “I think the baby’s coming” I called. And then continued to surge on as Liz got the nurse and midwife in. My brain didn’t believe that delivery was close but my body was saying, "we’re doing this". Evidently my birth team was reading my body because no one doubted me - they were all there and ready. They helped me on the bed and I was on my back. It felt awful but Pam checked my cervix - 8cm. I figured I had a lot more work to do til time to push but my uterus was really surging that baby down with each contraction. Pam offered to break my water as it was bulging. I said yes. I wanted to be done. I wondered if that was the right response or not but didn't say anything else. I felt I was close to being overwhelmed by labor. She broke my water. Everything felt the same. Nothing got more intense - maybe it was already at maximum intensity. But I needed off my back and roared that. They helped me drape myself over the back of the bed which was upright now and so I was on my knees. I was confused as to whether I was “allowed” to push or not but I was doing it to some degree with shrieks as my uterus was surging so powerfully down. I thought back to the lack of labor poops and felt bad for the mess to come.

Pam coached me to lower my voice when pushing and I realized I was “allowed” to push. It felt so right. It was really hard to lower my voice but when I did, it helped so much. Pam and Liz coached me to breath fully. Cleansing breaths reminded Liz. Get oxygen to that baby. I knew they were right but it was hard. I breathed as well as I could. I involuntarily roared out through a surge. My voice got so loud I was shocked. After hearing that, the out-of-body me noted something was definitely happening. It was definitely baby time. Pam coached me to push without noise. Transfer that power to the push. It took so much effort but I did and felt myself nearing the ring of fire. She told me you have to confront that. You know it will be painful but you have to just go there. And I did. And it wasn’t NEARLY as bad as I was expecting. Some more pushing and I felt the head come out. She told me to hold off on the pushes, back off back off. I tried. Not totally successful but somewhat. Then she told me another couple of big pushes. Baby was out.

I felt relief. Disbelief. Pride. I had just done it! The work was over!!! I was helped around to receive my baby but saw her as they were putting her in the baby bin under the lights and oxygen rather than on my chest. They immediately started explaining that her cord was wrapped twice around her neck very tightly and she came out very blue in the head and pale in the body. That was why Pam asked me to pause - to cut the cord off to release it. By the time I turned around she was already wildly flailing her hands and screaming so I never once felt she wasn’t okay. But she needed to get pink for us to know she was recovering and getting that oxygen flowing through. I delivered my placenta with an extra push and some final birthing discomfort I said “I need my baby” and they brought her to me and put her on my chest. They agitated her to get her to cry and breathe but ultimately wanted to take her to the NICU to check her levels. I was shaking and crying as they took her but grateful that they'd get her oxygen if she needed it (she didn't). I stayed to get a few stitches (no tear in the perineum but a little bit of tearing by my urethra - very minor - very easy recovery). Getting the stitches was very painful. Wait, I should be done with pain now! I thought. I have DONE the work. Now I get relief! (No. Not yet.) 

DH and May were off in the NICU where she was doing very well all on her own, needed no help, but they were able to confirm her levels were very healthy and she was totally fine. A welcome confirmation. They brought her back to me and she immediately latched. She felt completely familiar. There is no “getting to know you phase” with this one.

If you had asked me how long it had taken for May to be born after we’d gotten to the hospital, I would have said “oh… maybe 5 hours.” It was only a little over 2 hours. I got in the tub around 8:30am. I got out around 9:30am. She was born at 10:03am. Everyone else thought my labor had gone incredibly fast. I had been laboring on and off for about a week and a half and did not have that same impression. However, I did feel that everything had progressed much more expeditiously once I had gotten out of the tub than I had expected. It all just felt fluid. Right. Natural. Powerful. Incredible.

This experience was so different than my first birth. I did trust myself. It felt amazing. It's like no other experience in the world. However, I will say, it doesn't actually feel important anymore. It hasn't taken much time at all to get to the place where it feels so wonderful having my healthy little baby and how she got here seems like a minor detail. That hawk though...