8 months with Soren

Yesterday Soren turned 8 months old...a fact that absolutely blows my mind. It honestly feels like a few days ago that I birthed him into this world, but our lives have been so wrapped up in him for the past 8 months that it's hard to imagine life without him. I have wanted to write a blog about my birth experience and I figure that there's no time like 8 months after the fact to do it! So here goes (in a nutshell - it was 21 hours long!)...

On June 6, two days after my "due date", my water broke at 10:00am while I was on the phone with my friend Sarah. I had no contractions at that point, so I called my midwife to let her know and then I carried on with my day. I remember walking Violet over to the bank that day and the teller asked me when I was due, I told her that my water had broken that morning and she all but called 911 to have them take me to the hospital. I assured her that I did not need to be at the hospital and that walking was actually one of the best things I could be doing at that time.

Karl went to school and work that day while I prepared our house for the birth. After he got home from school we went out to eat at Cabo San Luis (I had a good excuse to not make dinner that night.) I wouldn't know until later that the contractions actually started as I was eating those scrumptious fish tacos. The sensation was much different than what I had anticipated, just an intense pressure in my pelvis - a menstrual period times ten.

At around 9pm, I called my family and those who were planning to be at the birth to let them know that I thought I was probably going into labor soon. Everyone was on standby until things picked up. Karl and I got ready for bed around 10, knowing that we would have a long day ahead of us in the morning. We got in bed and it quickly became obvious to me that we would not be sleeping that night. I finally realized that the strange pressures I had been feeling in my pelvis were the contractions I had been waiting for. I then labored on the toilet and in the shower until midnight and then we called our midwife when the contractions got close together and I was not able to talk through them.

The birth team slowly trickled in our house as I labored in bed, with my birth playlist on the computer and my Aveda candles burning to calm me. I was so proud of myself for handling the pain with complete relaxation, just like we had learned to do in 10 weeks of Bradley classes. The pain was completely localized in my pelvis and lower back, I had no pain whatsoever in my abdominal area like I had planned for. (I would later come to realize that I was experiencing "back labor.")

My midwife let me labor for a few more hours before she checked me, but I was convinced, because of the intensity of the pressure in my pelvis, that this baby was coming soon. The assistants started to fill up the tub in our dining room in preparation for my planned waterbirth. I started labor already being 1 centimeter dilated, so it came as a huge shock when my midwife announced that I was only 3 centimeters dilated. I tried not to get discouraged, because I knew things like this happened and I was prepared to let Soren come on his own terms. My midwife, however, was not thrilled about the lack of progress especially because I started running a low-grade fever and Soren's heart rate was becoming a little erratic. She gave me 2 hours to progress significantly, so I quickly got out of my relaxing "den" and started to walk around the apartment complex to speed things along. Karl, my best friend Flo and my doula came along for the stroll, each taking turns holding my IV bag or me as I walked/contracted.


After watching the sun come up while I diligently walked my way through labor, I was checked again, this time positive that I would almost be ready to push. "Oh honey", were the next words I heard out of my midwife's mouth. I could tell by her tone of voice and the look on her face that she was about to announce bad news. I was only 5 centimeters and my fever was not going down. I knew at that moment that I would not be having the home birth I wanted and planned for. I had a meltdown on my bed while Flo talked to me about how I was feeling. Her words were so encouraging to me and she helped me think straight through the pain and disappointment. She knew that I wanted the safest possible outcome for Soren, so I didn't have to worry about sounding selfish for mourning the loss of the birth I had hoped for.

At approximately 7 am we all drove to the hospital for what has now been deemed in my memory as "the longest 10 minutes ever spent in the car." When we arrived at French Hospital I was greeted by the nicest nurses who encouraged me birth however I felt comfortable. So I refused the ugly hospital gown and tried all of the tricks they had on hand to help me labor effectively - birthing ball, squatting bar, toilet, long hallways, etc.


At 12 noon, 26 hours after my water broke, I started to get the urge to push. I felt so relieved that I would be over the pain and finally be able to meet my little one soon. Well, soon was not as soon as I thought. After the first 2 hours of pushing, I was starting to get a little discouraged. The on-call midwife consulted with my midwife and told her that she would prefer I get an epidural and start on Pitocin to help things progress faster. She made sure to inform her that this was a conservative treatment plan, as the on-call OB would have preferred to start prepping the OR for a C-Section. Karl and I discussed it, and after finding out that both the baby and I were doing just fine (albeit exhausted) we refused both options and continued what we had been doing. After probably a hundred announcements from my encouraging birth team (all of whom had birthed without drugs) that I had "one more push" to go, I started to give up hope that I would ever see this so-called baby.

After 3 hours and 15 minutes of using every ounce of my strength to get Soren out, he slid out into the hands of the on-call midwife and Karl. He was immediately placed on my chest, like we had requested but I was too exhausted to lift my head up to look at him. When my mom helped me lift my head up, my eyes could not focus on his face. It was as if everything went into shut-down mode as soon as he was out. No feelings of elation, no adrenalin rush, no shouting or tears of joy - just sheer exhaustion and relief that it was over. It didn't take long for me to fall more in love with that little bundle than I had been before. There is nothing like looking at the face of your own child for the first time and the love that you feel for them compares to nothing else.


We spent the night in the hospital that night so they could keep an eye on me after a very exhausting labor and pretty significant blood loss after the birth. After how hesitant I was going to the hospital, it was strangely bittersweet leaving. I had been through something pretty traumatic (as much as I hate to admit that, it was) and I liked the feeling of having people devoted to taking care of me around the clock. Once we got home, I felt relaxed and excited although the reminders of my planned home birth put an ache in my heart that would not go away until several weeks later.

I am thankful for how the story of Soren's birth played out, although it couldn't have been further from what I had hoped and planned for. I guess this is what happens when you are patient enough and willing to let birth unfold how it may, instead of forcing it to happen how someone else thinks it should.

Well, I finished this post in the exact time Soren needed for his afternoon nap and now he is squealing in his crib for me to come pick him up. I am so overwhelmed by how special this little guy is and just how much I love him. There is no other task on earth that can humble a person as much as being a parent, and I am thankful for the chance to do it.