Invitation to ICAN of North Florida's Inaugural Cookie Swap

Do you have a tried and true favorite cookie recipe? Do you love to bake? Then this is the event for you!

Do your baking skills begin and end with Publix or Pillsbury? Do you despise baking, but love to taste yummy cookies? Then this is the event for you, too!!

This is the event for all of you!! We'd like to gather everyone together for a fun Cookie Swap just in time for the holidays. Put your talents or your local bakery to the test and bring a few dozen cookies to our swap, along with a container to take home a sampling of every cookie. Print out plenty of recipe cards, too.

Once everyone has gone around and gathered cookies and recipes to take home, we will all sit and enjoy tasting everyone's creations and getting to know one another.

*** Cookie Swapping will start around 3pm to give plenty of time for all arrivals and set ups to take place ***

Come join us at 2:00pm until 5:00pm at the South Mandarin Library at 12125 San Jose Boulevard in Jacksonville, Florida 32223.  You can show up at any time and hang out as long as you like.  However many cookies you bring is how many cookies you will be taking home.  ICAN will be providing milk, water, and coffee/teas.  We're looking forward to having you join us and making our Inaugural Cookie Swap a sweet success.

Please check out and rsvp at our event page here.

#GivingTuesday and Why I Donate to ICAN

The International Cesarean Awareness Network is happy to announce our new challenge for #GivingTuesday. On Tuesday, December 2, ICAN will begin its first ever 24 hour challenge to raise $10,000 to expand our community outreach and to offer more resources to our U.S. and International chapters.

At midnight, EST, the challenge will begin. Donations of $10 or more will receive an ICAN bumper sticker. Everyone who donates will be entered in a giveaway, with one (1) winner being announced daily throughout December in our 30 Days of Giveaways. Available prizes will be announced on the ICAN website and through social media as they are awarded.

Donors can also upload selfies with a message of “I give to ICAN because…” other options can be: “In honor of…” “In memory of…” “A brighter future for…” Images can be uploaded to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest and other social media channels. Please use the hashtags #givingtuesday, #givebackbirth, #peaceonearth, and #ICAN.

I give to ICAN to make a better future for my children's children.

For more information, please visit our website at http://www.ican-online.org/giving-tuesday.

Black Friday Special on "Peace on Earth Begins with Birth" t-shirts!

I'm excited to announce that from Black Friday through Cyber Monday, we will be offering 10% off everything in our chapter's t-shirt store! This sale will expire after 11:59 PM on Cyber Monday.

Be sure to click and visit ICAN of North Florida's On-line Shirt Store.

These shirts are great quality t-shirts and hoodies.  They would make great Christmas gifts for the birth enthusiast in your life!  Don't forget, we have a coffee mug, too!

CANCELED November Playdate Meeting at Chick Fil A Tinseltown on 11/26/2014

Our image focal point for discussion for this meeting.

https://www.facebook.com/events/822920881084057/

Please join us for our playdate meeting - kids are welcome, and can play while we chat :-) Refreshments will be provided.

Our meetings will follow a basic outline, with nothing ever set in stone:
10:30 - Arrivals, chat, and play
11:00 - Birth story sharing*
11:45 - Discussion of the monthly image or quote**


*At all times the safety and happiness of our children is of utmost importance. Don't feel rude if you have to run off to rescue a child:-)

**The header of each event is the image or quote that we will discuss at the meeting (plus whatever any mom needs to talk about). How does it make you feel? What is your gut reaction? What do you think about it?

Member of the Month November Spotlight: Katie's Cesarean Birth Story of Lucas

It all started May 31 around 5 in the evening (3 days after my estimated due date). Will and I had attempted some labor-inducing activities earlier in the day, and were taking a nap. I woke up to my water breaking EVERYWHERE... I was kind of in disbelief-- Is this really happening?!?! I got out of bed and waddled around in a few circles, and finally realized I should wake Will. "Babe, my water broke!" He FLEW out of bed and immediately started throwing things into our hospital bags. Our fear was that with the amount of fluid I was carrying, I was at an increased risk of the umbilical cord slipping out before Luke did, and creating an emergency situation. I'd done my research, though, and I knew what to do if I felt that telltale pulsating... so I stopped for a moment to concentrate, and when I realized all was okay, the contractions began. They weren't uncomfortable, but were definitely THERE, about 6-7 minutes apart. We called Will's sister, Tricia (who is a certified nurse midwife), my parents, and my sister and everyone started making preparations to come to our house.

A few hours later I was still contracting, but they were not getting stronger or closer together. I was bouncing on my yoga ball, walking around the house, and snacking and drinking gatorade. Around 11 that night I laid down to take a nap (and I believe a few other people did, too). Tricia had been listening to Luke with a doppler and taking my temperature every so often, so that we could make sure he was still doing great. She woke me up a couple hours later, and was concerned that I had been able to sleep through contractions. At this point, they had pretty much stopped, but I figured I was just lucky and wasn't in too much pain yet. She said she would like to check for dilation, and I said okay. A few minutes later she said I was still hardly a fingertip (what I had been for the past 2 weeks) and she thought we should head to the hospital because it had been almost 12 hours and I had not made ANY progress whatsoever. She knew of our plans to go as intervention free as humanly possible, and we talked with her about possibly needing just a "whiff of pit" to get my body started. She assured me that it could be turned off once my body actually began labor.

So we trekked up to the hospital, almost an hour away. When we got there, I told the nurses my water had broken at home, contractions had started and then stopped, and hadn't really come back to any pattern since then. The nurse wanted to swab me to see if my water had indeed broken. Three swabs and a fern test later, they said my water had not broken. They also said they could feel my bag still intact. I was so confused-- I KNEW that what had happened at home had been my water and Tricia agreed with me. The general consensus ended up being that I had two bags and one of them had ruptured. The way I understood it is that most women have two bags that fuse together at some point during the pregnancy. In my case, mine did not fuse and it was like a water balloon inside a water balloon. Luke's balloon didn't pop, but the outer one did, resulting in what I believed to have been my water breaking at home.

Around 7 or 8 in the morning, they decided to send me home. I did not want to get labor started with Pitocin if I didn't NEED to, and as long as neither Luke nor I were in any danger, I wanted to go home. We all went home and crashed-- everyone had been awake all night anticipating a baby being born.

Fast forward to June 2. We went to a baby shower and then a going away party up in St. Marys. At the baby shower, my friend suggested eating BBQ and macaroni and cheese (not together, just at the same meal)-- it had worked for her TWICE to get contractions started. While we were up in Georgia, we went to dinner with Will's parents at Sonny's BBQ. In the middle of dinner (around 5:30ish) I realized I was contracting pretty regularly (again). I didn't say anything to anyone because my body had been doing this for WEEKS- regular contractions that disappear in a few hours. When we got home I told Will I was going to go lay down-- this was the part where they were going to either go away when I went to sleep or get stronger and wake me up in a few hours. A little while later, I found myself unable to sleep because I was contracting so strongly. I got out of bed and found Will watching TV-- I told him my contractions were now 5-6 minutes apart and lasting about a minute, minute and a half. We tried not to get too excited, but I made sure to start eating and drinking regularly-- just in case. An hour or two later (I am kind of fuzzy on exact times over this whole story) Will decided he was going to go lay down-- if this was IT, he was going to need energy, too. I sat down to watch some TV and started doing hip circles on my yoga ball to help Luke get into a great position for birth. Almost immediately I felt my contractions intensify and stay that way. I knew this was definitely the beginning of labor, and suddenly I didn't want to be alone. I went and woke Will up and told him he needed to be awake with me. He timed a few contractions and they were even closer together now- 4-5 minutes. We called my parents and they and my sister Kelly made their way over. My dad slept on the couch while Mom and Kelly put counter pressure on my back (back labor had begun already). Will stood in front of me and let me drape my entire upper body over him... it was the only thing that felt good. I was having to concentrate and breathe through every contraction at this point.

When my contractions got down to 2-3 minutes apart, lasting 45-60 seconds, for an entire solid hour, my mom said she thought it was time to go to the hospital. I asked over and over again if she was sure, because I was terrified of going all the way up there AGAIN, only to have them tell me this wasn't the real thing. With my risk factors, though, I knew I needed to err on the side of caution. We packed up the vehicles and went on our way. I was mentally preparing myself for labor to stall a little, because I knew a change in location can do that. However, labor only intensified in the car on the way there. I'm pretty sure my mom broke a few traffic laws on our way to the hospital. I began to panic we weren't going to make it in time because contractions were double peaking and required SO MUCH concentration.

When we FINALLY got upstairs, labor stopped in its tracks. Completely STOPPED. When the nurse checked my dilation, I was only 2 cm. ONLY TWO FREAKIN' CENTIMETERS. I wanted to punch her and tell her to find someone else to check me, I was sure she was wrong. I got out of the bed to walk the halls, do some squats, anything to get things going again. Keep in mind, at this point I was HUGENIC, so walking even to the bathroom was a huge feat for me. Every so often, labor would pick up again, and then disappear. I knew this meant he was probably not in the best position for birth, but nothing was comfortable any more. I remembered that my body was instinctually supposed to tell me what to do, what position to get in, to make things happen, but I could not figure anything out. It only complicated things that they made me lay in the bed attached to the monitors for 20 minutes out of every hour. Sure, it doesn't seem like that long, but when you have a massive belly squishing EVERYTHING, the only semi-comfortable position is sitting up... and they couldn't find his heart beat that way. So I had to lay back. Even though he was JUST FINE, even though I was JUST FINE, they refused to check me with just the doppler. "Hospital policy!" Grr.

Throughout the course of the day, labor continued to start and stop, start and stop. Dr. M came in a few times, and said she did not want to augment with Pitocin (which I was totally fine with). She said my chance of successfully, vaginally delivering this big baby was best as long as we let my body take its time. I like that she was so supportive of our wishes, but I was starting to get VERY TIRED. It was taking me an average of 4 hours to dilate one centimeter. At this point I had gotten far enough along to be considered in "active labor," and was completely effaced, we were just waiting for stronger contractions and more dilation. Part of the problem was that since I had so much fluid he was sitting so high up, and his head wasn't pressing down on my cervix to help me dilate. We discussed with Dr. M the possibility of breaking my water, in order to make sure he descended in the proper position for birth, to prevent a prolapsed cord, and to help me dilate without the use of drugs. She said she absolutely did not feel comfortable doing that until I was at 6 cm, and to just be patient.

A couple hours later I was getting exhausted. I was approaching 24 hours of labor and had not slept Friday night (it was now Sunday evening). The contractions, when I was having them, were incredibly strong and were taking a lot of concentration and relaxation (but I was doing it!!). We talked over the possibility of me taking something to help me get a couple hours of sleep, and settled on a shot of morphine and phenergen. It did nothing for the pain but within 20 minutes I was getting soooo sleepy. I laid back and slept for a couple hours while my family got some much needed food.

When I woke up I was energized and READY. Dr. M came in to check me and I was 7 cm and contracting strong. The conversation about AROM happened again, and I was torn. I knew that breaking my water would put me on a timeline, it would make labor harder, but on the other hand, I was STUCK and was worried that without it, labor was going nowhere. We decided that she would break my water once I got to 8 cm... that was transition and was going to be hard anyways, but is the shortest part of labor.

I got out of bed and walked the halls for awhile, then labored with Will in the room. A few hours (I believe it was just before midnight) and a few tears later, we decided to go ahead and let her break my water (I was finally at 8 cm). I knew the actual process wouldn't hurt, but I was terrified of what was going to come after. When she actually did it, I immediately felt a huge rush of fluid and could almost feel him descend even further down. My contractions picked up immediately and were sooooo hard. I was in terrible back labor and nothing I did relieved the pain. I had been in back labor this entire time but it was nothing like THIS. Our room became filled with the encouragement of Will, my mom, and my sister, who were all desperately trying to make me as comfortable as possible. They seemed to instinctually know when to encourage me, when to stay quiet, when to press on my back, and when to leave me alone. I had never been in so much pain before in my life. I started begging for some pain medicine and Will and my mom kept reminding me that this means I'm almost there... I remember Mom saying, "Remember, when you think you absolutely cannot handle any more, you're almost finished." And Will, who was standing in front of me while I leaned over him, whispering, "You're doing fantastic, babe. You're doing this for Luke. You can do it." For awhile, they would watch the monitors and tell me when my contraction had peaked. That is, until they started double, triple, and quadruple peaking... I would have 7-8 minutes of straight contractions, and then maybe 20-30 seconds of rest before they would begin again.

Three hours of this madness made me start to lose it. I was becoming desperate for pain relief. Absolutely desperate. I begged for a shot, for a pill, something. The nurse (who happened to be a lady from my church, go figure!) said at this point, my only pain relief option was the epidural. I KNEW I didn't want that and I didn't know what to do. I remember sitting there on the edge of the bed trying to figure out HOW I could get out of this situation. "Maybe I can make a run for it." "Can I tear my stomach open and get him out NOW?" All kinds of crazy thoughts started going through my mind as I became even more desperate and hysterical. I was sobbing at this point, seriously convinced my body was breaking in half. Nothing I did (or anyone else did) helped and I was miserable. I knew that if I couldn't relax, my body was not going to be able to dilate those final 2 centimeters. I told my mom and Will that I WANTED THAT EPIDURAL NOW! They kept reminding me of all the reasons I'd said I didn't want it, that I was better off without it. I knew in my heart there was NO WAY I was going to have this baby anytime soon and I could.not.do.it.any.more. I turned to my nurse and told her to go get the anesthesiologist. She asked me over and over again if I was sure, and I remember begging her to PLEASE JUST HURRY UP. I had been under the impression that I'd get it pretty quickly, but noooooooo, I first had to get a full bag of fluids (I didn't have an IV up until this point... I wanted nothing extra!). But before they could give me the fluids, she had to redo my hep-lock! My first nurse had put it in wrong, but no one had noticed because they didn't need it. So after a few needle sticks and an entire bag of fluids later (read: a whole other hour!) here comes the anesthesiologist. He starts telling me all about everything that can go wrong and the process he'd follow to get the needle in my back... I told him I knew all that already, I'd done my research and just DO IT ALREADY. "Okay, Mrs. Wood, I need you to sit on the edge of the bed and curl your back over. Roll your shoulders forward." I couldn't do it, my stomach was tooooooo big. He kept telling me over and over again to roll forward, and finally my nurse stepped in- "Dr. So-and-so, LOOK at her belly. You're going to have to figure out a way to make this work because this poor girl cannot bend over any more." Will watched as he stuck me multiple times to try and get the needle in the right spot. I hardly felt the needle because I was still trying to survive my contractions.

Within minutes, I could feel the drugs taking effect, and this is where I start not remembering what's happening. They helped me lay back into the bed and I'm sure there's more that happened, but I fell asleep. Fast forward to 7:30 in the morning, on Monday, June 4. I woke up and felt sooooo hungover, it was crazy. I asked Will if I was still having contractions because I couldn't feel a thing below my neck. He said yes, that they were just as intense as they had been a few hours before. The nurse came in to check me... I was hoping I was at a 10 and they were going to tell me to push soon, but NOPE, I was only at 9. ONLY 9 CENTIMETERS! Instantly, I was even more glad I had the epidural, because it had been another 3-4 hours and I'd only gone 1 centimeter. I think I set the record for being in transition the longest. A few hours later, I was 9.5. Then I was 10, but with a small lip. They gave me a little while longer at 10 to make the lip go away, and then the nurse said that Luke was still high up in the birth canal and she wanted my contractions to bring him down more before I pushed. That was fine by me, because I didn't have the urge yet, anyways. About half an hour later she came back in and said she wanted me to do some "practice pushes" so that I could learn what I was supposed to do. Within 2-3 pushes I suddenly started feeling that urge to push, that undeniable OMG I HAVE TO PUSH NOW feeling. This was it!! I was going to finally hold my baby!! She looked down and said, "I can see his hair! He has a head full of hair! Do you want to see?!" UM, YES! She set up a mirror and I almost burst into tears-- here was my tiny (cough, ahem, LARGE) baby's head! It was grayish pinkish whitish, but it was MY BABY'S HEAD AND HAIR! Suddenly I wanted to get him out even more... I put all my effort in over and over and over...for 3 solid hours. Luke wouldn't budge. They started losing his heart beat on the external fetal monitors, and they asked me if they could put an internal monitor in. I was terrified since he'd been going through labor for so long and they couldn't find his heartbeat, so I consented to them screwing that monitor into his scalp. They had to do it twice since the first time it didn't stay in his head 

Dr. M, even though she was technically off at 7 that morning, had said she would stay through delivery because it was sure to be an exciting/potentially difficult one, seeing as how he was projected to be 11 pounds. I was secretly happy because she was very supportive of all my wishes and the doctor who was coming on, Dr. F, seemed terrified of my big baby and my not wanting a c-section. One of the doctors (I don't remember which one) came in to check on how things were going, and said that I appeared to have enough room around his head where he could still fit through. However, they weren't sure if it was his head or fluid built up at the top of his head from being stuck in the birth canal for so long. They said I could still have another 3-4 hours of pushing left, and then there was no guarantee that he would fit all the way out- his shoulders could still get stuck and I was looking at an emergency situation.

I was tired, I was desperate, and I just wanted to hold my baby. So I told them I was done, just get him out NOW. I signed the papers for consent for cesarean and Will got dressed in scrubs as they prepped me for surgery. I cried, because I knew I was not getting the birth I'd wanted. But at that moment, I was so overwhelmed and so scared and I just wanted to hold him SO BAD. They wheeled me into the OR and told Will they'd get him in a little bit. They strapped me to the table crucifixion style and the anesthesiologist tested my epidural to be sure it was enough for surgery. It seemed to be, so they were ready to begin. "Wait! Somebody get my husband!" I yelled, convinced they'd forgotten to get him. He came in a few seconds later, and sat up by my head. We talked for a few minutes while the surgery began. Suddenly, I could feel a searing pain in my right hip... I told everyone in the room (i.e., I screamed) that I could feel pain and they tried to tell me I couldn't, that it was just pressure I was feeling. But no, I was in PAIN. It felt like someone had taken a drill to my right hip socket and was going to town. I looked up and saw a nurse sitting on my chest... What? Why? I didn't want to know, I just turned my head back to Will and prayed it would be over soon. They pushed more drugs into my IV and I got verrrry groggy. Then I heard him cry! I looked up at Will and we both said at the same time, over and over, "That's our baby! That's our Luke!" Dr. F said, "Oh my goodness, he's a toddler!" and everyone in the room laughed!

They brought him over to the french fry warmer to clean him up and suction his lungs-- there was meconium in my water when it broke. Will got up to go look at him, and then brought him over to snuggle against my cheek. He had to wake me up because I was falling asleep over and over again. I only saw Luke for about a minute before he left with Will and the nurses to go to the nursery while my surgery was finished up. I let myself fall back asleep at that point, glancing up at the clock to see what time it was-- about 1:20. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in recovery, and it's 3:30... I'm all by myself, and my nurse was sitting at the desk in front of me. I asked her if my baby was okay, and where he was, and she said they'd bring him to me when they brought me up to my post-partum room. I cried and begged for them to let me hold him, but she said that I would have to wait. Will came to see me and said that Luke was doing great and that the family was looking at him through the nursery windows. WHAT? The rest of our family is getting to look at him and talk about how precious he is and I CAN'T?! How is this fair?!

A nurse from the nursery came in and told me that Luke's blood sugar was dangerously low, so they needed to give him formula, and which brand would I like them to use. "No formula! I'm going to breastfeed him!" I said. So they finally brought him to me to try and nurse him. I was covered in blankets and had my IV, heart monitors, and epidural still hooked up. He was swaddled so tightly that the only part of him I could touch was his face... Neither he nor I had ever nursed before (obviously) so neither of us knew what we were doing. We had missed that "golden hour" after birth where his instincts take over and he figures it out on his own. Five minutes after trying and without attempting to give me any support or guidance, the nurse took him from me to go feed him some formula. I was in labor for almost 2 days so of COURSE my nearly 12 pound baby was going to have low blood sugar. When they FINALLY got me up to my post-partum room and I was FINALLY able to hold my little boy, I was the happiest mama on the planet--suddenly nothing else mattered and all my pain was gone- I had MY baby in MY arms and I was going to get to snuggle him however and whenever I wanted! I couldn't believe how big he was- I did not understand how he could have possibly fit inside of me!

The beginning of our breastfeeding journey was difficult, but we powered through and nursed for 14.5 months before Luke decided he was too busy to be bothered with mama milk anymore. Although my incision has healed, those emotional scars are there forever. I still feel betrayed by my body and my mind at times, but try to tell myself that what happened has happened, and all I can do is better in the future.

Member of the Month October Spotlight: Candice's Cesarean Birth of Gavin

Candice is our wonderful chapter co-leader and she came up with the brilliant idea of a Member of the Month spotlight on our facebook group. If you'd like YOUR story to be featured on our facebook group cover, please email your story and image to cyoung2110@gmail.com or PM Candice through facebook. You can choose to keep it on the private facebook group, or share it on the blog as well.  Here's her story of the birth of her firstborn. 

My son, I have been trying to come about and write an account of your birth. I have to admit, I harbored a lot of ill feelings about the recollection of it all, and sometimes it still haunts me how you came into this world. I feel guilty for a number of reasons, and I feel angry for a number more. However, I must preface all of this by saying that I am overwhelmingly happy that you are here, healthy, and adorable as can be.

Your "due date" was estimated at the very beginning at December 17. I say estimated because that was what I was told to call it at the time. That nothing was for sure, really. Of course, I told them, and on about we went. It was the perfect pregnancy. One hundred percent drug free. I didn't even bother with a Tylenol on the two occasions I was under the weather. You were healthy and forming just as you should be. I was eating as well as I could, and every test was coming back normal as could be.

As I continued to grow with you, December 17 came and went. Christmas came and went. I finally stopped showing up for work because I was cramping and feeling generally icky for the last two weeks of December. It was then that it was apparent that our due date was etched in stone, and the powers that be had had enough waiting. They considered me two weeks late, and wanted to induce on the 31st if I didn't go into labor naturally. We had a couple of false alarms, but for the most part, I was cramping on and off for a week and a half straight.

December 31st arrived, and so you were supposed to be arriving as well. Matt and I packed up the Jeep, and made a quick stop at a minute mart for orange juice, something to eat, and water. I knew this was going to be a long process. We arrived on time, and were told to stick around in a waiting room because every single bed was taken at the moment. I felt a pang of guilt right then, figuring, maybe you weren't late. Perhaps you were just right on time and we shouldn't be rushing this along. Too little too late. They pulled us back after waiting to get a hep lock put in, vitals taken, and paperwork filled out. After all of that, I met my family back in the waiting room to yet again wait for a room to open up. About forty five minutes later, one did, and so we were escorted back. When I say "we", I mean, you, me, your father, your aunt, and all three sets of grandparents. I had quite an audience to keep me company.

I was issued a hospital gown, and put on some monitors to see what your baseline stats looked like. All was well and getting ready to get underway. Dr. VanScriver came in, and we shooed everyone out except your father. My water was broken, and mysoprostal was applied to induce labor. Everyone was ushered back in, and we all hung out while contractions started to build. I laid my head to the side and tried to let everything fall away while I closed my eyes through each one. I could hear everyone talking, and every now and again I was asked how I was doing, but after a while, I didn't want to talk. Once the machine started cranking out the numbers that the powers that be wanted to see, I was allowed up and out of bed for a while. Everyone was ushered out into the waiting room since I wanted to get up and to the bathroom, and get down to business. We started at 2cm. I labored with you on the potty for a bit since the pressure was too great to sit on the hard surface of the shower, and I wasn't prepared to stand up. But I finally got my feet under me and decided to labor in the hot water for a bit. During the past few weeks, hot water had become my friend. I stood in the shower, holding the shower head at my back, and swayed and moaned with you while we worked together for an hour. I was interrupted and sent back to bed to be strapped with monitors once again.

We were now at 5cm. I had been laboring for a few hours now. Back in bed, things got uncomfortable. Your grandmother and your father were both there to help with things. Your grandfather brought in gatorade earlier in the morning and some rice cakes. They both came up after laboring in the bed for an hour or so. The powers that be didn't like the numbers that were being put up, and came in with an IV and oxygen mask for me. Your father was scared. I was scared, but confident that we might still be able to have the birth we wanted for you. Contractions were getting so intense. I was falling asleep between each wave, trying to catch a break where I could. Those were becoming shorter and shorter. I snapped at your father after he asked me, once again during a contraction, how I was doing. I felt guilty, but was in too much pain to do much about it. I was put on all fours to see if I could not only get more oxygen to you, but labor more effectively. It turned out that the IV line wasn't working, and they had to get another one in. They blew out my vein on the first one, but manged to get a second line in. I wanted to push, and at that announcement, at only 9cm, a FLOOD of people entered the room.

The lights shined bright as they turned me over onto my back, and pulled my knees up to my ears. This was not how things were supposed to go. You were still sunny side up and refused to turn around. You were in the birth canal already. I was pushing for only half an hour, and pushing very well by the lead nurse's account. Your heart rate kept decelerating after every contraction. Too low. In the 90's, then the 70's. Just too much work for such a small body to handle. Seven hours of labor. That's a lot of work. Pushing hurt. You still had a little bit of lip left over you, and Dr. Slade said she had let this go further than she wanted to. They were prepping the OR without even telling me they were prepping. Matt and I urged her to let me work a little longer with you. My gut kept telling me you were alright. I was terrified. They wanted to cut me open and take you away from me. They didn't want to wait. They threatened that I would have to work as hard as I ever had for 20+ more minutes, but they weren't willing to let me do it.

And so the call was made.

Your father was put in scrubs, tears filled my eyes as I watched my mother cry for us, and was wheeled out of our room and into an opertating room to "deliver" you.

My heart was wrentching. This was not how I envisioned it.

They were talking above me as if I wasn't there. In one moment, the process of spinal anethesia was being described as I was going through yet another contraction, then performed, and in the next, Matt was next to my face looking above the curtain as the procedure to "rescue you" was being performed. In the middle of a sentence, you were born. I was completely unaware that they were bringing you out, then all the sudden, your cry was heard. I didn't get to see anything. My heart broke and rejoiced all at once. You were okay. You were here. Except... it wasn't me that birthed you.

They stated that nothing was abnormal. Your cord was not around your neck, you were in no distress. And as it turns out, you looked like a 39-40 week old baby. Not a 42 week old.

As they stitched me up and put me back together again, they cleaned you up, took all the measurements, and handed the 8 pound, 20 1/2" long bundle to your father. He brought you next to my face so that I could meet you for the first time. You were the most beautiful little boy I had ever seen. With the biggest feet I had ever seen!

It took longer than normal to get you out as you were already wedged into the canal. The family was on pins and needles expecting the worst news because of that, as your father went out to tell them that everything was okay. I breastfed you within an hour of your birth. You were amazing and took to it right away. It was a wonderful moment to share with you. To know that I could at least do something. You were a very calm baby. Just a sleepy and hungry newborn with a penchant for being so adorably cute.

Time seems to blur in and out, but the next thing I remember, all of our family came in to meet you.... and the rest, as they say, is history.

Three days later, you were home, and we both recovered. Together.

Thus, this is the story of how you were brought into this world.

To read Candice's HBAC story of Mary, click here: 

http://icanofnorthflorida.blogspot.com/2012/11/marys-birth-story.html.

Mistie's VBAC Birth Story

They said I couldn’t, and it wasn’t allowed. I said I darn well could, I would, and I darn well DID!
My name is Mistie and I was due with my second child on August 21, 2012. My first child was born via cesarean 18 months before due to an immediate drop in heart rate and blood pressure that wouldn’t change with changing of positions. He had to come out immediately or we could have lost him. My experience with having a cesarean wasn’t a bad one except I didn’t like the pain and recovery time that came with it. 
.When I got pregnant with my second child 10 months after having my first baby, I didn’t know how much of a fight it would be to have him naturally the way nature intended. I live in Kingsland, Georgia thanks to the military. I have lived all over the country and have experienced many things, and never once would I have thought that I would have been told that I wasn’t allowed to have my baby naturally at the local hospital. Every person I spoke to at the hospital or doctor offices said the same thing: scheduled c-section.  I can honestly say that at the beginning of my second pregnancy I was very ignorant about child birth in America, and so were a lot of people I talked to.  I had always assumed that if you had a cesarean you could still have a vaginal birth the next time. Apparently I was mistaken according to the nurses at the hospital, some friends, and the worse part, family. 

For the first 12 weeks I had the hardest time emotionally and was to the point of giving up until I found what I needed.  I found a Dr who was willing to support me in my birth choice and be encouraging about it! I had called three different hospitals and at least 5 OB/GYN offices and was either told no, hung up on, or had someone who didn’t know what I was asking before I had someone say yes. I was frustrated, upset and scared. I kept thinking “is it really this hard to have a baby naturally?” Having a homebirth wasn’t an option for me because of my first pregnancy, I wasn’t willing to take a chance on something happening to my baby and not getting to a hospital in time. My only problem was that she and the hospital were at least 45 minutes away in Jacksonville, but I was willing to make that drive. It seemed like in person, she was the only one who said I could and would have my baby naturally. Some friends were supportive, but a little skeptical considering where I lived and whether the doctor would actually follow through with the promises she made. My family was the worst, and the reason I fought the hardest to have my baby naturally. To have the women of my family tell me that once I had a c-section that I would always have a c-section because that’s what my cousins and other members of the family were told and experienced. I was hurt, offended, and most of all angry. I was hurt that the women I look to for support and advice weren’t supportive and said I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to have my baby naturally. I was offended by how ignorant they were, and how easily their doctors and others used that to their advantage. But most of all I was angry! Who were they to say that I couldn’t do it? How could they sit there 2000 miles away in Idaho and tell me that I was wrong and to expect to have a repeat c-section. The words they said not only made me angry but filled me with determination and resolve. I was going to have my baby naturally and I was going to show them that it can happen. I wanted the members of my family to remember me if/when they ever came to this type of situation. It became the driving force that kept me going when I nearly gave in. 

My second pregnancy went better than the first, I didn’t gain as much weight, I kept the blood pressure down and thankfully wasn’t as sick as I was with the first.  Once a month I drove the 45 minutes down I-95 from Kingsland, Georgia to Baptist medical downtown, most of the time I took my child with me. The office staff always looked forward to seeing me and my son, in fact someone was always willing to play peek a boo while I had to stand on the scale or get blood drawn. I had an amazing doctor who listened to everything I had to say, even if it was just to complain about something small in life. I told her that I wanted to have my child naturally and if that meant no epidural and coming in pushing I would do it. She laughed and agreed with me, I could and would have a VBAC and I could have the crazy juice if I wanted it. She gave me some limitations, I had until 41 weeks before we considered induction if I was favorable, or a repeat c-section or if something went seriously wrong with the pregnancy. After giving me those two rules, she never mentioned having a repeat c-section. I didn’t actually believe that it would be that easy so I would bring it up at ever meeting, and each time she would tell me the same thing: that I’m going to have the baby naturally. At one point when I asked about birth plans she told me not to make one, and if I felt the need to have one, don’t show it to her because she’s superstitious about birth plans and VBACs. Having a birth plan would jinx the birth and I’d end up with another C-section so she didn’t want to even know about it. Who would have thought I managed to find a superstitious doctor?

The last weeks of pregnancy were hard on me emotionally and physically. My body went into early labor sooner than I did with my first and my body decided to be evil and play games with my head. I had constant contractions at 37 weeks, lost my mucus plug and bloody show at 38, and harder contractions at 39. At 39 weeks I was only 1cm dilated compared to 3 with my first. I was impatient to say the least! I didn’t like the end of this pregnancy, with the first I was excited, happy and my husband had just gotten home from deployment. This pregnancy, I was worried about actually getting to the labor part, worried about my toddler and other day to day things on top of having contractions. I was an all around stressful mess, but I was a determined stressful mess. At my 39 week appointment my doctor told me that she was going out of town the next week on my due date, she said she honestly thought the baby would come out sooner than my due date because of all the signs I’ve been having. If I didn’t give birth by my due date I would have to see one of her associates at the appointment and maybe the birth if I went into labor while she was gone. I had never met any of the other doctors in the practice, so I was worried about how supportive they would be. My doctor made sure that my plan for a VBAC was plastered all over my file and that her associates knew our plans. At 40 weeks I met with another doctor after having fetal monitoring and an ultrasound done. He had me worried because he wasn’t very talkative. He came in the door, grabbed a glove, and went for my goods before even mentioning his name! I had to make him stop and talk to me for a minute before I allowed him to examine me. It was little funny afterwards since my husband was with me. He made jokes about it the whole drive home.  Even at my 40 week appointment there was no mention of induction or scheduling a c-section, all I was told was that I was going to go into labor soon. Soon was a word I hated by the end of my pregnancy, along with “how are you feeling?” But the thing I hated the most was when people would ask when they were going to schedule me for a repeat c-section. My answer would always be the same: “they’re not” and I hoped each time I said it that I was right. 

Finally, at 40 weeks and 5 days my water broke at 2 o’clock in the morning and it was a gush! It was Hollywood movie worthy, in my opinion. I woke up to a pop in my pelvic area and the sudden urge to pee. I clinched the urge to get up and go to the bathroom and as I stood up I got a gush of water down my legs. It was scary and confusing because I knew I was still holding it, but I was giving Niagara Falls a run for its money on gallons per minute over the side. It took me a second to fully wake up and realize what had happened. I was still gushing when my husband came running with a pile of towels and clothes. I had to still pee so I walked to the bathroom and went all the while still leaking water. My husband thought it was funny. Within ten minutes we were out the door on our way to the hospital after calling the doctor and my doula. My contractions started in the car 45 seconds long 3 minutes apart each time. My husband managed to get us to the hospital just under 30 minutes when it always takes me 45 minutes to drive there, but I never drove at 2 am. Within a few minutes I was in my room getting hooked up to a monitor. The attending nurse was amazingly nice and understanding. She made sure my doula could get upstairs without any problems and helped me stand every time I needed to work through a contraction. It took them about 2 hours to get me fully admitted and hooked up to an IV. It took three nurses and 5 tries to get the IV started much to my annoyance. Apparently the most experience nurse was attending a cesarean and the other nurses weren’t as competent about starting an IV in a hand with difficult veins. 

I managed to go five hours before asking for an epidural, and even then I was scared of getting one. I had a horrible experience with my first pregnancy and I was worried that people would think me a wuss for only managing 5 hours of labor before asking for an epidural. My husband and Doula were there for me the whole time helping me stand through contractions or anything else I needed, even sneaking me a drink of water when I really needed it. The doctor administering the epidural finally came in and did a fantastic job. He made me so happy and not scared any more, it just proved to me that the last doctor to administer one on my back was an idiot. Another 4 hours went by easily, with me dilating at a good rate. The doctor who was filling in for my doctor would come in and check on me. He never once mentioned me needing to be prepared for a c-section. As far as they were concerned, I was just a woman giving birth naturally. How I had my first child didn’t matter, I was having this baby naturally! Finally, 10 hours after arriving at the hospital, I was almost ready to push. Unfortunately, with every contraction the baby’s heart rate would decrease and each time took longer to go back to normal. The doctor came in and told me this was happening and gave me two options: too push for hours with the possibility that the baby will be able to handle it or to use a vacuum extractor and push for 30 minutes. There was a very real possibility that I could end up going in for another c-section if the baby couldn’t handle the hours of pushing with the way his heart rate was decreasing. I agreed to use the vacuum, after my doula explained all the pros and cons and possibilities. I didn’t want to take a chance of something happening to my baby and having to go in for a repeat c-section. The c-section wasn’t my concern, I’d do it if I needed to, and it was the baby I was worried about. 

The doctor and the nurses chit chatted away as I’m trying not to panic. I honestly didn’t believe that I would ever make it to the point of pushing. They had a hold of my legs, my husband on my left and a nurse on my right with my doula next to my husband and they had me pushing. I was focusing so hard on the nurse that I didn’t even hear what was going on anywhere else. The doctor was pointing out the baby’s head to my husband and telling him to get ready to cut the cord. My husband took it all in stride, even when the doctor cut me a couple times to help the baby’s head through. I was still trying to push when the doctor put my baby on my chest and had my husband cut the cord. I was so surprised I was frozen. My doula told me to touch him and finally put my hands on him when I didn’t move. I was shocked, overwhelmed and didn’t completely believe that I had just given birth. When they took him across the room to get cleaned I started crying and saying I did it. I got to watch them clean my baby and weigh him then I immediately got to hold him. There was no taking him away or me going to recovery somewhere else. Everyone congratulated me and the doctor said “see nothing to worry about you had him the way you wanted, congratulations.” 

Recovery was fast and completely different from having a c-section. We went home after 48 hours and everything seemed so much easier, except that I did end up with stitches. Walking and sitting were nearly unbearable when I got a hemorrhoid. I was so scared to have my first bowel movement; I actually tried to avoid it for as long as possible. I had a small case of depression in those first days, I became anxious to nurse my baby because of the pain, I cried when he did because I knew he wanted to eat. I finally talked with his pediatrician and had my first bowel movement, that was almost as painful as labor itself, okay not really but it was scary. I was so sure I was going to reopen the stitches, but afterwards my depression went away and I was able to enjoy my little one when he wasn’t nursing, I was still having some pain. 

The best part besides having my son was being able to tell people that I successfully had him VBAC style. I sent a picture via text on my phone to all of the women of my family who told me I can’t with the words “I DID it.” It was kind of an “I told you so” moment but I never meant it in a mean way. It makes me so happy to be able to tell them that just because you had a cesarean the first time doesn’t mean you will always have to have one. With my son’s birth I was able to educate the people around me. Not a whole lot, but enough to show them that I did it and they could to. I want them to be able to say “I can” when they are told no, or at least know that they have the option. It may not be easy but, the option is still there. Even my husband tells people that we had our son “VBAC style” and will always tell them that it’s possible they just have to find the way.

Candice's HBAC Birth Story of Mary

“The whole point of woman-centered birth is the knowledge that a woman is the birth power source. She may need, and deserve, help, but in essence, she always had, currently has, and will have the power.” ~Heather McCue

Birthing Story of Mary Ayn Rae Young

The night you were born changed my entire life.  Yes, we had planned the birth, planned to have you at home, practiced relaxation techniques – me more than your daddy, but nothing could prepare me for how I was going to feel about this entire experience.

It all started at around 4:00 on the morning of July 31, 2011.  My son came into my room, crying, and as I sent him back, I realized that I was having a very mild contraction; more than Braxton Hicks, but nothing that registered in my consciousness as labor, or even something to be noticed.

As I went back to sleep, I had about two more contractions over the span of the hours prior to the dawn breaking that were enough to rouse me.  I knew then.  It was like a quiet secret all to myself.  I had a very comfortable feeling we were going to have a baby that very day.

Little did I know that 8:00 would come complete with a very uncomfortable little boy throwing up.  The day found our feet hitting the floor in a hurry.  As I softly moaned through another contraction, Matt helped get Gavin settled and was trying to figure out where Gavin “drank too much water” from.  Turns out, his only experience with throwing up came from swimming lessons.  Matt took him, with a bowl, to the living room and turned on a long movie, Cool Hand Luke, that they could watch together while riding out his nausea.  No matter what we gave him, it came back up.  Poor soul fell asleep in his arms partway through the movie.

I got up and right away got a load of maternity laundry started in case we needed to transport and I needed clothing to go with me, got a shower and vainly dried my hair to look nice for later, ate breakfast, and kept moving.  I got the huge stack of dishes on the counter washed and in the machine for drying, then started picking up clutter, and vacuuming the floors.

All of that in the span of a couple hours, and I swayed through the couple of contractions I had, moving my hips to help get the babe in position.  I smiled at the thought that this felt so different from my first labor.  This was all to keep me upright and distracted while doing so.  I called my best friend, because I could no longer keep this secret to myself.  She offered to bring over dinner to ensure I wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and asked if anyone was taking care of Gavin.  I told her we had it handled, and not to worry, as it was still very early first stage, this may well take either hours, days, or a week.  I was still easily talking through them, and able to stay upright, so I did.  I texted the midwife to just give her a gentle heads up to keep her phone handy.

It was around noon, the house was clean and ready, and I was able to sit and relax with my boys.  I had been drinking to stay hydrated, and eating when hungry to stay fueled.  (Tuna fish and crackers for lunch?  It was the easiest option without cooking.)  I simply knew that we were having a baby, and wanted to stay in front of labor while I still could.  I laid down for a nap on the couch to keep my rest up.  I had three contractions wake me up that required stretching and a bit more focus.  Deeper relaxed, I kept saying to myself, reminding myself that my uterus was doing much work to help make room to bring my baby here.  Slowly the process took over.

Around 3:00, I woke up from the nap, well aware that I was in full blown labor.  Every time I sat up or moved, another contraction would follow, and they were getting to be more intense.  We had moved from officially 40 minutes apart to about 10 minutes apart in that seemingly short span.  I sat on the ball for a while, and Matt was making plans to run out to get food for the house and dinner, as well as supplies for Gavin.

I took Gavin to the bathroom with me while Matt had a surprise from our neighbor saying our dogs had gotten loose before he was able to leave.  Gavin hung with her for a few minutes while I sat on hands and knees in the bathroom floor, waiting for the dogs to be secured, and Gavin to return to me, and Matt to hurry to the store so he could come home.  My world became very small.  The tiniest details of our bathroom.  The text on the spines of the books on the back of the toilet.  The way the fibers looked on the bath mat.

Gavin sat with me in my own little universe while we got through both of our ailments together.  He rubbed my back, saying “it’s okay Mommy, it’s okay”.  Sweetest of little boys.  Larissa made it with baked ziti to my house, took one look at me, took action to get Gavin fed, and then made me eat a few bites of food as well.  Thankfully, since I was not in my right head to feed the hunger that had been plaguing me for a while before.

She heard me deal with more contractions than she was comfortable with, tried a couple of different techniques for help with coping, then softly demanded that I call my mother; that it was time, and Gavin is going to need more care than she and I could provide.  I agreed.  One more contraction, and I was able to call her, and did so quickly, so she would not have to hear me deal with one.  I told her things were picking up and getting serious, and I needed her to come and care for Gavin while I labored.  She did so, cheerfully, and I hung up and moaned through another wave.  Larissa, bless her heart, would have stayed, but my boy being sick was making her sick, so she had to make a quick exit the second Matt came home.

Things were rockin’ and rollin’ and this is where my memory gets a bit fuzzy.  Tara, the midwife, called and listened to me for a few minutes.  She had been calling all day in intervals to check and make sure I was coping well, eating, drinking, also to check on my body processing labor and not producing bad things like excess blood and the like.  I had had no bloody show, no waters breaking, no mucus.  The only thing I was relying on was my emotional sign posts, and the intensity of contractions.  No, I had not been timing them, just guessing how far apart.  I purposely stopped looking at clocks very early on in labor just so I didn’t stress the numbers.  Once she listened to me handle a couple of contractions, she concluded that I was far enough along to need assistance, and instructed me to call Cecilia, the Doula, and get her on the way as soon as I could.

I hung up with her, called my photographer who heard me simply speak and told me she was on the way (apparently, I was appearing very ready to have a baby, while I was thinking I might have a long time left to go).  I called Cecilia, but from a text we shared earlier, I knew she was teaching class and couldn’t be free until 9 pm, but I left her a voicemail anyway.  I had not looked up in what felt like a very long time, and I was vocalizing through every wave.  I found myself standing in the door frame of the bathroom, utilizing my fist at the small of my back, pushing against one side of the frame with my full back, the other with my feet, counter pressuring my way through.  They were coming on top of each other.  I was not freaking out, but I knew birth was going to be imminent.

Matt was listening to me, and asked if he should fill the pool, I could only nod.  He left and got started.  I got through a few more, and he returned to tell me that the pump would not work to get air into the pool.  I could only shake my head, while inside I was not wanting any bad news, but couldn’t find the words to tell him so.  He left again to finangle a solution to our problem, and called my mom to ask how far away she was, and to inform her that the pump she loaned us wouldn’t work.  She was about 20 minutes out, but heard me in the background and, in a very worried tone, asked how far apart I was.  I growled at Matt upon the asking that I thought I was about 3 to 5 minutes apart.  Mom hurried.

Once she got here, she immediately broke out a watch and started timing.  She quickly found out that I was 2 minutes apart with 30 seconds in between waves.  She proceeded to ask where the midwife was and freak out a bit since we were alone; all she could see was us catching a baby by ourselves.  I don’t think she could have ran a marathon to get the nervous energy out of her.  She physically supported me through a couple of waves, and I hung my body onto hers for one; it was nice to not have to hold myself up.

My universe was still very small, and I had long since closed my eyes to all the light and energy going on around me.  I needed to be alone.  I needed to have people support me.  I needed to not be touched.  I needed to have someone to hold me.  I needed to have silence.  I needed to have someone tell me I was doing well.  I told Matt that I was pretty sure this was not my greatest idea, and that this was really painful.  He did what men do best and told me that we were in the thick of it now, and it was a tad late to back out of laboring.  I agreed, and turned back inwards as another (another) wave came crashing through.

I kept thinking that my uterus works.  My cervix is working.  I felt everything up front and in my thighs as well as my abdomen.  It was the most intense thing I have ever gone through.  I somehow still thought that we had a while to go.  I also knew with my self doubt that transition was coming, and with that thought, up came dinner.  Bingo.  My tell tale sign that pushing was coming up on the horizon quickly.

The pool was announced to be ready, and with that, I somehow hauled my body into my bedroom to change from my nightgown into my tankini top that I bought especially for the occasion.  I clipped my hair up, and hauled my body back down the hallway to climb into the warm waters.  Off went the overhead light, and I finally caught a small break as my body adjusted to the therapeutic heat of the birthing waters.  I was able to grasp the handles and allow my body to float a bit.

I, at this point, had no idea how many people were outside on my porch…turned waiting room.  All I knew was as soon as my mom arrived, Gavin was whisked out to be watched by caring hands.  People were coming in and out.  Matt sat across from me in his chair.  My body adjusted and the waves were back to one on top of the other.  Stephanie came through the door and with a caring smile and soothing voice came down and said hello on my level.  I remember looking in her eyes and feeling a bit of relief that at least all of this will be captured in a beautiful way, and she was just in time.  She made her own introductions to those in the room, and with that, I was back into laborland.

I was constantly announcing start and stop to my mom, as she was still timing.  I couldn’t get comfortable.  I wanted to run away from my body.  I was writhing when all the sudden, at the peak of another, my mom took my hands, and held her head close.  I so needed that.  I needed anchoring.  I needed to re-center, and I needed the hands of support at just that level to hang onto; I needed a piece of something outside myself to help keep me out of my own way.  My head needed to be reminded to relax, that my contractions are not stronger than me, because they are me.  My mom’s hands did that.

‘This woman’s work’.

With that realization tucked into my head and heart, the next thing I remember was the midwife’s assistant, Tonya, arrived.  She made her introduction, but I never looked up, I just weakly waved.  Late labor sounding; low, but getting louder.  I kept trying to keep my tones low in my gut this whole time.  The lower the tones, no matter the volume, the more relaxed the body gets during each wave.  Thankfully, my consciousness kept that nugget of wisdom handy.

Tara came through the door not much later.  More introductions and hellos.  She got down to business and got the doppler out for the first check in my labor.  Heart tones were great.  She took my temperature and blood pressure, and upon satisfaction of those numbers, proceeded to set up her equipment.  I pointed her to the direction of the Birth Kit in my bedroom, as Matt had already brought out her other items in the big bin.  The next thing I remember, Cecilia walked through the door, and immediately took place right next to Matt’s chair on the stool he had set up in front of me for his seat.  He happily sat in his recliner instead.  During each wave, I reached out and asked for hands.  That simple touch was so healing.  I got Matt’s fingers and Cee’s hands.  I squeezed the dickens out of Matt, and tried to hold Cee’s as gently as my hands would allow during the moment.  The baby’s hearttones were being checked every couple minutes; it was only mildly distracting since nobody was asking me to move out of my little world to accommodate them.

I was fully aware of every conversation going on around me, yet I could not contribute, nor did I want to.  It was rather nice , in between waves, to just lay there and be.  Be supported, be taken care of, be looked after, be cheered on.  Cee mentioned my “perfect Bradley relaxation”, then rubbed her finger over the one wrinkle I had in my forehead.  Having had it made known to me, I melted it away, and relaxed further.  Deeper relaxed.

Another wave came through, and I toned my way through it, but this time, I had to tone differently; my mouth needed to change shape, my throat needed to sound out.  My mom cracked the joke that I sounded like Dori doing whale impressions; while funny to the rest of the room, I could only glare at being disturbed.  This went on for a few more waves, my varied toning, hands anchoring me, upper body hanging over the side of the pool, knees supporting my working body, sweat starting to bead on my face.

Then it happened.

At the peak of a wave, I grunted out loud.  This caused a knowing look between the midwives and doula.  “Candice, can I check you, please?”  The one and only check during my labor of my cervix.   Tara was having a time trying to get in there under the water and in my current position, I finally just declared that checking in general is not fun, and to go ahead with however it had to be done.  Surprisingly, I felt nothing while she checked.  It was then declared that I was complete, and effaced.  Baby was nice and low.  Pushing could commence at my leisure.

Low and slow, that was what I kept repeating in my head.  Each wave brought about the uncontrollable urge to push with it, and for once, my body felt like it was working with me instead of me working against it.  I visualized in my head, and arc, and at the start of every wave, I was at the bottom of this arc, as I continued up, I would start to push, doing my most effective pushing at the top of it.  Slow.  Effective.  Slow.

I regained consciousness for a moment and looked straight up in front of me.  I was greeted by a warm smile from Cee.  She proclaimed, “you’re doing it, Candice!”  Indeed, I was.  I sunk back into my world pretty quickly.  But I was doing it.  Female hands holding mine, guiding me through.  Female hands reaching into the waters for measurements, confirming life is coming.  It was really wonderful to not hear people yelling at me to push, or counting to 10.

Somewhere along the way, during a push, I felt my membranes release.  “Something broke” I said, even though I knew immediately what “something” was.  I seem to remember more waves in between, but my memory jumps to as Tara was providing perineal support, she was noting the position of the baby, and gently guiding my pushing to slow down to avoid a tear.  Slowly, at her direction, I started to puh-puh-puh my way through with shorter, gentler, but controlled pushes, to help me stretch evenly.  While this was going on, Matt had a lot of different questions about the baby, including her hair color, but never once got up to check.  Cee happily gave him a play by play of what I was going through, as he kept telling me to breathe at the top of a pushing contraction.

I worked quietly.  It was intense work, but good work, and I knew this, even in the thick of the fog.

I was asked if I could turn over for heart tone readings, but I could not.  I could not move my body from the position that was working.  They had me move my leg out, and maneuvered to get low enough to hear, moved away when I was pushing, then came back when it was over; this was the one heart tone I could not hear right away, but Matt, and everyone else, heard the faint heart tone that was good and strong.  From having two babies, Matt had learned to tell the difference between maternal and fetal heart tones.

I could feel myself stretching with each small push.  Stinging, stretching, burning, but once the muscle stretched initially, it did not sting nearly as much on the next push.  I could feel her head stretching and coming down.  I felt her brow present, and all the fears of having an arm present with it went away.  I knew she was textbook perfect at that point.  I felt her brow come through, then her face, her chin, then I felt her rotate.  I knew I’d have her out soon.  Upon rotation, the neck came through, then one shoulder, another rotation back, and the other shoulder.  She easily slid into the warm birthing waters.

One hour after the birthing team walked into my home.  Eighteen hours after labor had begun.

10:28pm

I was overwhelmed and wanted to touch her, to hold her.  As Tara brought her up, I was trying to turn around and catch a glimpse of my prize.  She came out of the waters with healthy, strong cries; the sound that will bring tears to any new mama’s eyes.  I had to pull my leg up and over the cord, once thick and pulsing with life, now empty and white as it put what was left into my daughter.  I held her.  In the warm waters, we connected, and I drank in her scent from the top of her head.  I marveled at her beauty, and her small size.

She was wrapped into a fresh pink towel and a little white hat put on her head, as I was hoping to deliver the placenta shortly after her, so I wanted her connected.  The special bowl for catching the placenta was retrieved, and we waited while I adored the newest creation to come earthside.  More hot water was added to the pool, and as the warmth flooded around us, my heart poured over in elation.  I couldn’t believe that I was finally face to face with the one that I had dreamed over for so many nights before.

Time was ticking by, and after half an hour and only cramping to show for waiting, I made the call to cut and clamp her cord to get her to warmer, and drier, settings.  Matt was not all that interested in cutting, but my mom was all about it.  Two hemostats were placed, scissors passed, and with a loud “clack”, we were now two instead of one.

Gavin was briefly brought in to see her, but like any two and a half year old, all he saw was this really awesome pool in his living room and wanted in it right then.  Because he couldn’t, and he was feverishly sick still, he was ushered back out to be taken care of by family outside.  Thankfully it was a nice, warm summer night.

Now to get back down to business, and get this organ delivered.  One full glass of gatorade later, I was regaining strength and endurance.  While I leaned over the side of the tub once again, I started to sweat as the water was now hot again, and all I could feel was cramps again as my uterus did its work of detaching, and expelling it.  Mary made her way next door to my elderly neighbor’s house to make her debut with them.  It was quick, but it felt like an eternity that she was gone.  15 more minutes passed, and no placenta to be seen yet.  So we decided to come out of the water, with a plan of moving me to my bed, and giving it a bit more time before we give it a shot of pitocin.

Getting out of the pool was about as graceful as getting in.  After gathering myself around a chux pad, I waddled my way down the hallway to my bedroom to finally lay down and get out of my wet top.  This also provided prime opportunity for skin to skin with her, and to see if we could get her to latch to get the oxytocin flowing and my uterus to clamp down.  Then, with one giant push, and a sloosh, out it came into the bowl.  One hour and twenty one minutes after she was born.  It never felt so good to be done before.

My abdomen now soft and fleshy, an empty vessel that carried her.  It was time for a warm shower and to get cleaned up.  It took a bit of help to get me neatly into the shower, but once in, water flowing over me felt so nice, however, I was in a hurry to get back to my little pea pod.  I’m pretty sure that was the fastest shower I have ever taken.  Tara was giving me instructions as I was showering for care during this time and afterwards for my body.  Once out, I was asked to urinate.  That was the hardest part of this whole thing.  To control that muscle and make it work was an almost impossible task.  Tara turned her back and turned on the water in the sink in an effort to help my mind over matter.  I finally was able to dribble, and thus was able to get up and get back to my kiddo.  I was so happy and proud that I was up and moving within moments of giving birth.  I was not broken.  I was not beaten up.  I was a mother, a woman, and capable.

I was swimming in a sea of pink with all the towels around us.  My mom found a brush and brushed my long, wet hair.  I finally got her to nurse; her latch was perfect, both lips flanged out.  Time seemed to stand still as everyone waited and watched, making conversation.  Her newborn check was about to take place as a hot plate of ziti from Larissa was brought in to me and I handed her over.  I chowed down, not realizing how ravenous I was!

Tara checked over every single detail of Mary; nothing escaped her notice.  She observed, and made note of everything to Tonya, who was writing it all down.  She was so gentle with her.  Matt stepped forward to help weigh her; the one question everyone had burning in their back pockets.  Gently, she was placed into the sling, and held up in the air.

6 pounds, 9 ounces.  19 and 3/4 inches long.

One vitamin K shot, and a lot of pictures later, everyone was making their way out and saying their goodbyes.  It was around 1 a.m.  I was completely over the moon and swimming in a birth high.  It was a wonderful place to be.

I spent many hours in the night, next to my mom, simply beholding the wonder of what just took place.  She stayed the night with me, in the same bed, all three generations in the same space.

The warm July night in which you were born, we all rejoiced.

To see more pictures, you can view the slideshow.