Since it didn't result in a baby being born it wasn't true labor, but contractions began on Labor Day (Sept. 5). Strong enough and regular enough that I called my parents and was fully expecting to see our little princess that day. But she had other ideas. The contractions subsided somewhat, from every 10 min to 1 or 2 per hour for the next two weeks. Occasionally they would pick up again- every 10 min for an hour or two- and we would wonder, "Is this it?!?" But no. School started for me and life went on as normal, or as close to it as you can get when you are fully expecting your water might break at any moment.
I had my 39 week check-up on the 16th. I told the midwife I was sick and tired of pregnancy and really wanted to get things started, so she swept my membranes during the exam. I left telling her I hoped I would see her later that evening. And sure enough, contractions started again by dinnertime. We put Jonathan to bed and waited. They were getting closer and stronger and I was knew that this time was it. My mom booked a flight. Jim's parents were on red alert for coming over to watch Jonathan when we decided it was time to go. Around 9pm we went to bed, hoping to get a few hours of rest before things really got moving. Around 1:30am I woke up with enough discomfort that I wasn't able to sleep. Jim's parents came around 2:30 and we watched The Office for a few hours. At 6am we decided it was really time to go, so we headed to the hospital.
The midwife measured me at 4cm when we arrived. We did laps around L&D until 10am when they remeasured me to be at 5cm. And at that point I decided to quit; 4 hours per 1cm was not going to be an acceptable pace. I was exhausted- tired of the tease that my body had been giving me for the past two weeks. I realized that I hadn't really come to the hospital mentally prepared for what lay ahead. With Jonathan I was pumped- this was it and I was ready to take on childbirth and do it drug free. This time I was tired. Tired from being up since 1:30am, tired of being pregnant, tired of contractions, tired of waiting, tired of thinking "maybe this is it" and being wrong, tired of the anticipation.
So when Nell, the midwife, said she thought she should break my water to get labor back on track, I knew I needed to say yes. I knew that breaking my water would mean a sure path forward in this process. But it would also mean I would be facing a new level of pain and require a mental fortitude I wasn't sure I had. What I really wanted to do was say 'forget it, I quit', but quitting isn't really an option during labor. So I took a deep breath and said yes.
Nell broke my water and almost instantly I hit transition- hard. My contractions went from taking my breath away to making me scream. I had forgotten that feeling. The one that you are being pulled apart from the inside. The kind of pain that removes all capacity for rational thought and modesty. I got in the birthing tub and that helped, a little. And after about an hour, I was at 10cm and ready to push.
Because there had been meconium in the amniotic fluid, the pediatrician and nursery nurse were in the room as soon as I started pushing and wanted to get Zoe out fast (a mutual goal). With Jonathan pushing had been terrible; every push felt like horrible ripping pain. But this time it felt right; it felt like this was what my body needed to be doing. I could focus on pushing with each breath instead of the pain of each contraction. I pushed for about 20 minutes and then Nell said that since Zoe's heart rate was going down during the contractions, I needed to get her out in the next 2 pushes or she was going to do an episiotomy. That did it for me. Her head was out on the next push. And I was done. I saw Zoe laying on the bed next to me, umbilical cord still connecting us and I cried. I cried with relief that I was done. I cried for joy as I felt my heart expand. I cried with the wonderful and terrible knowledge that I loved this little one with the kind of love that will bear any pain and sacrifice everything without a second thought.
The pediatrician checked Zoe and she was great- 7lbs 15oz and 20" long. Her umbilical cord was twisted up like a telephone cord (presumably from her constant flips in utero) so that it was only 12" long instead of a typical 20" (hence the dropping heart rate). They handed her back to me and the rest of the world became a blur. This perfect little package, wrapped in the hospital receiving blanket, was finally here nothing else seemed to matter very much.
Why you makin' me cry?! Awesome story.
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