Ruth's birth story (only a year late!) part 2

Well, as it turned out, I said goodbye to Mom before I said hello to Ruth. They had exactly 2 weeks together, almost to the minute. Mom passed away around 2 a.m. on Wednesday January 7th and Ruth was born at 12:47 a.m. on Wednesday January 21st.

Now for Ruth's story...

The due date I was given was January 15th, so the entire pregnancy I told people my due date was January 22nd--I have a pretty good track record of going at least a week over (lucky me!). I went to my appointment with the midwife on the 20th with nothing much to report. She stripped my membranes in the hope that that would speed things up. I was also told that once my contractions started or my water broke I needed to head to the birthing center immediately. Trevor's labor/delivery was 3 1/2 hours start to finish, so they wanted to be sure I delivered at the center and not stuck in traffic in the car. :)

Around 4 that afternoon I felt the little *pop* of my water breaking, so told Stephen this was it! I got a couple of good contractions--the familiar water-breaks-everything-intensifies feeling, but then they stopped. It was nothing like the other babies--really powerful and then...nothing. However, not wanting to be needing to get to the birth center in rush hour traffic, I called my midwife and told her we were on our way. My good friend Judy Larsen came over to watch the boys (Elise came with us), and away we went!

Nothing much was happening on the way to the birth center, and nothing much happened for a couple of hours. However, we lived too far away and were too uncertain about how fast the baby would come, so we just stuck around. In retrospect, I wish we would've stayed home for 6 more hours, but we just didn't know. Contractions started picking up, but they just weren't strong enough to bring Ruth low enough for the midwife to break my amniotic sac (later we figured that there was a tear at the top of the sac--so my water did break at 4 p.m., it just didn't do any good...).

So I rested when I could, walked stairs, did lunges, squatted while Tasha held my belly with a towel, did hip rolls, cat pose, walked with a swaying motion...anything to get Ruth in the right position to put pressure on my cervix and make it dilate. I moaned and groaned and just didn't progress. It was very, very disheartening. 9 p.m. came and went, 10, 11...I was getting to the point that I didn't think I could go on with all the pain and fatigue and seemingly insignificant progress.

Then Martha talked with me about using nitrous oxide and I said YES GIVE IT TO ME NOW. I think I started it around midnight, when I was pretty certain that I would have to go to the hospital so I could get an epidural. But then I figured I was probably too far along for an epidural anyhow, so I might as well tough it out. I don't think my inner dialogue was very helpful, but Tasha and Stephen were so good in reminding me to focus and think positively and be calm. Think about your beautiful baby in your arms. You are a strong, powerful mama. You CAN do this.

(I couldn't help but think of the story my mom told of giving birth to Trevor--when she got to the hospital they asked her to rate her pain and she cheerfully said "9". She proceeded to go through all of her breathing techniques...only to be told that she was dilated to a 4. That's when she knew it wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought...)

I remember being SO tired. I couldn't focus very well because of the fatigue. I just wanted to be holding my baby with no more effort on my part. Having the nitrous was helpful, if for no other reason than it made me focus on when a contraction was coming, how long it would last and when I could feel it receding. Sometime during the last hour Ruth was finally engaged enough that they broke my water.

Towards the end of all my birthing times I lose all sense of time. I couldn't tell you how long I didn't think I could do it or how long I was in the tub or how long I was on nitrous or how long I pushed. I remember finding a comfortable position in the tub but then being told I needed to shift so that they could get to the baby. You want me to do WHAT?!?! I WILL NOT MOVE! Somehow they got me positioned so they could get to the oncoming baby and whooooosh! She was born! I rolled over in the water, a little hazy from the fatigue and wonder of the moment, and as it turns out, the loss of blood.

The next 20...30...longer? minutes are a big blur. There was something about needing to get the cord cut quickly (usually they wait until it stops pulsing), Stephen stepping away and letting the midwives get to me, him taking the baby, them having me deliver the placenta (or was that on the bed?), getting me out of the tub, but I couldn't support my weight and was wonderingly looking at all the blood in the water and Tasha saying, "Look at me, Claire. Look at my eyes. Don't look at the water. Claire: focus on me." Somehow they got me to the bed, but something was wrong.

Stephen brought Ruth over to me, but I was too weak to hold her, so he just kept her near me. Elise was there and got to witness the birth, but in all the hustle and bustle to care for me she kept out of the way. I think Stephen gave Ruth to her so he could help with me. Martha was doing something to me down below, and it HURT. The nurse and Tasha were helping her and me...they gave me more nitrous to help manage the pain of pulling and opening and scraping, and then sewing me all up from the pretty serious tearing.

I was still so loopy--I couldn't focus on anything--but remember snuggling and nuzzling and nursing Ruth. Then blessed sleep! Ruth was in the middle of the bed and we slept and slept. Every so often the nurse would check our vitals, and then brought us fresh homemade bread with butter and honey. They were very anxious for me to eat--I think I gave them a pretty good scare, but everything is hazy in my memory.

Turns out that when I delivered the placenta not all of it came out, so that was what the opening and pulling was about--they didn't want me to die, so had to get it out, which is not comfortable. Stephen said that he stepped back--he could tell something was wrong so he just stayed out of the way. He and Elise had some pretty good bonding time with Ruth while I was out of it.

I think we went home around 6:30 a.m., straight to bed for me for 24 hours. The boys were beyond excited to meet Ruth. Stephen took a week off work, then his parents flew in for a week or so. A day after they left my sister-in-law came to help out for another week. I allowed myself to be taken care of (possibly the first time in my life), and focused on taking care of Ruth and letting myself heal--both from her birth and my mom's death. Turns out Ruth's birth recovery was my best yet!

Meeting Ruth Ann, just hours old!

Ruth was a little bit jaundiced, so spent some quality time in the sun

I was really worried that I would slip into postpartum depression after having Ruth--I've experienced baby blues, and was worried that that history in addition to my mom's passing would send me to a dark place. I even visited with a therapist before Ruth was born. But Ruth has been salve to my soul. She is sunshine on my dark days. A reason to laugh and smile. Far from bringing sadness and depression she has brought joy and light. When she was so tiny I loved watching her watch...nothing--I figured that Grandma and Mom were there, cooing and loving on her. I think they are still a huge part of her life--as they are in mine.