Birth Story of Thomas Matteo

"Son, carrying you has been one of the most unexpected joys of my life, and I know I'll probably miss it, but it's time for you to come out now." As I addressed unborn Thomas, I ran my hands over my huge taut belly and sighed heavily through pursed lips. This is how pregnancy has always been for me -- the best time of my life until it's not. Between those first few weeks and the last long ones were several months of feeling happy, energetic (relatively -- I still need those naps!), and pleased with my changing shape. Then, by the end of April, my body was too cumbersome and achy, I was always out of breath and needing to pee, and just feeling done.

I was an elderly grand multipara, a "seasoned mama" as my midwife calls it. Thus as an expert in childbearing, I knew exactly what to expect. My labor with Thomas would begin as all four other labors had. I would wake up with contractions at some point in the wee hours of the morning, and give birth at some point that day. On mornings I woke up with no change, I would know that wasn't the day. And so I would wait again, go about my day, and wonder if that next time I went to bed would be the last time I went to bed pregnant. For many days this was fun, not knowing what night would be the last. Kind of surreal, as I told my sister Grace, but fun. I would lie down for a nap in the afternoon and say, "How many more naps are we going to have like this, Thomas, with you still in my belly?"

Then, as had happened with Joey, I reached 40 weeks and passed it. The days seemed to stretch on. I'd think, 'I just dropped kids off at school again. Still pregnant.' 'I just picked up kids from school again. Still pregnant. Not even a twinge.' 'Tim has left for work again and I am still pregnant.' And that weird thing happened where even though I was getting closer than ever, actually having a baby began to feel impossible. Time just kept ticking by. 

Then in the wee hours of Friday the 13th I found myself wide awake looking at the clock. I was having contractions that were regular but not painful. It was 3 a.m.! This was going to go exactly like the others had. When I had bloody show, I was positive today was the day. I had never NOT held a baby within a few hours of bloody show.

Buuuuttt the contractions fizzled out and I let Tim go to work. No point in wasting time off. I updated Sherry in a text, and she reassured me that my body knows what it's doing. But those silly contractions would start back up time and time again over the next day or two, getting my hopes up every time. I went to the chiropractor on Saturday for an adjustment I hoped would help things along. I asked Sherry what she thought about me taking castor oil the next morning, and she replied that she thought that was a good plan.

We went to Mass that night, and afterward finalized plans with Sherry for a natural induction the next morning. She had a special recipe for a castor oil concoction, which prompted Tim to run out to the store again. I went to bed that night sure this was the last time.

Sunday bright and early, I texted Sherry as soon as I woke up. She came over, examined me (I was at 2-3 cm), and swept my membranes. That was the first time I've had that done. It was not terribly unpleasant. Then she and Tim made the concoction and I drank it. Having never tried castor oil, I was a little daunted by the prospect, but it ended up being a lot tamer than colonoscopy prep. I had several hours of contractions that seemed promising, but then died down again. I was so let down and frustrated I cried. I cried a bunch of times. Here came another Monday, when I had been so positive he'd come over the weekend.

On Monday the 16th I was 41 weeks, a new milestone. Sherry offered either to come over and take a walk with me or to have me come over and work in her garden with her. It was a hot and sunny day. I opted for the walk. It was pleasant enough, although I was pretty hot and sweaty by the end. Back in the house we talked some more and I cried, and she was very compassionate and kind. After she left, I took a shower, ate lunch and had a nap. Yet another afternoon and another night went by.

On Tuesday the 17th, I dropped the kids off at school once again. Back home I cleaned the kitchen and did some laundry. I was a laundry machine. The loads had been getting smaller all the time because I kept getting more obsessive about it. Then, because I was sick to death of waiting around the house to have a baby, I went on some errands. First to the mall, to TJ Maxx; then walked to the other end of the mall, to Belk. I didn't buy much, mostly looked around. I remembered why I hate going to stores. There's so much crap I have no use for, and anything I need or want is online. But I did find pretty thank you notes at TJ Maxx. Then a quick drive to Ollie's, which is right next to the Dollar Tree. I went to both. I was hoping maybe Ollie's had one of those jute pouf ottomans for me to put on the back porch. It's the one thing my back porch is missing. No poufs or ottomans, just lots and lots of planters. It was a long shot anyway. At the dollar store I got a couple cards, then waited in line a really long time behind a lady whose coupons weren't working. I didn't feel annoyed though; more like sorry for her because she was in a lot worse shape than I was. She was old and overweight, leaning heavily against the counter; and if she needed the coupons at the dollar store to work that badly, I was prepared to wait as long as it took. Times are tough. Compassion may have been what I was feeling, but my resting grumpy face must have been in full effect because one of the women behind me asked me when I was due and said, "I bet you're miserable." Another woman let me know that when she was pregnant, she had covered her belly button with a band-aid. As I finally headed out the door, I thought, was she trying to subtly let me know that the sight of my belly button sticking out under my clothes was offensive? Huh. Weird.

At around noon, Sherry texted to let me know she had scheduled an ultrasound and nonstress test for the following Friday morning. She asked if that day and time worked, and offered to go with me. I answered saying that it worked. We both hoped we would not be making it to that appointment. I asked my mom and siblings to pray I didn't need to. Sherry asked me how I was doing, and I told her, "Hanging in there. No change." For me, "no change" just meant annoying contractions off and on, but no news. 

I ate lunch and went to lie down, dozing for maybe 20 minutes, but then one of those dumb contractions woke me up. I had long since learned to ignore them. My mom and Anna and Grace checked in with me via text -- all separately, which was kind of funny. It gave me something to do, replying to all of them in turn. It is funny to look at them and see where my tone changed abruptly.

I literally went from making beach plans to holy crap, these contractions are not playing. (Never underestimate the power of an emergency novena!) Then I became aware of a wet feeling, which was what propelled me out of bed to the bathroom. Water was trickling down my legs as soon as I stood up, and it was continuous to the point I needed a pad. I felt a mix of excitement and terror, and told myself, a la Kevin McAllister, This is it. Don't get scared now. But was it really? A couple more contractions came hard and fast, leaving no doubt. I began pacing around the house, sending another flurry of texts I knew would be my last for awhile: updating my mom and sisters, making sure the boys had a ride home from school, and summoning Tim and Sherry. Then I grabbed one of my laborade popsicles out of the freezer, put on the birth affirmations playlist on Hallow, sat down on my exercise ball, and did what I'd been doing every 10 minutes for the last several days: I cried. (What a weepy few days this was!)  And so it began.

Sherry arrived along with Lou, who is a "doulatog" (doula and photographer) by trade. She was there as an assistant midwife also, just serving in whatever capacity she was needed at any given time. Upon her arrival, I was very much in need of a doula. Tim helped Sherry with setting things up and starting to fill the pool; he also snapped some pictures as you can see. Lou sat down beside me and said, "I'm here for whatever you need me for. If you need space I can give you that, or I can stay beside you, just let me know." I said I wanted her to stay with me. She had the perfect touch on my lower back during contractions. It actually seemed like she could just absorb some of the pain into her hands, but I know that it was just effective counterpressure taking the edge off. She was like an angel. I had never had a doula at any of my other births, but this time she was a package deal with Sherry. I 10/10 would recommend hiring a birth doula if they are all anything like Lou.

From the timestamps on the photos, I see that I had about 45 minutes to wait while the pool filled up and got warm enough for me to get in. I couldn't wait. During this time, I changed into my bathing suit top, crawled across the floor for a few contractions, and knelt against the foot of my bed for awhile. My water broke at 2:45, according to Sherry's notes. I heard the pop, and fortunately they had positioned a blanket under me in case.

I got in the tub a few minutes later. Sherry examined me and said, "The cervix is out of the way." That was good because I was beginning to bear down a little. It hurt so much, but there was relief in finally being able to do something besides endure contractions. My face was so hot I needed lots of cold wet towels on my forehead and neck. I sucked down another laborade popsicle, absently tossing the plastic stick to the side when I was done. 

They told me later that I didn't start pushing in earnest until around 3:30. It was around that time that I had contractions that were particularly excruciating, but also encouraging because I could actually feel him moving into the birth canal. He was getting closer and closer. Lou put on her photographer hat around this time and started taking these wonderful pictures that I will treasure forever.

Finally he was right there and I could reach down and feel his head. I thought, all I have to do is push out his head, the rest is easy! But many more contractions came and went without this happening. About a third of his head would make it out, and then once the contraction was over, it would retreat. I thought to myself, He must have the biggest head of all time. I started getting frustrated and at one point I told him, "You've got to come out now, buddy, give your poor old mama a break." Sherry encouraged me to keep moving around, maybe kneeling on one knee, then the other, which I did, as well as stretching into one hip and then the other. She reminded me that birth is kind of a dance. 

Sherry suggested I sit back and rest against, if not sit on, the pool's seat, thinking that might give him the room he needs. I did that, and it wasn't very long after that his head made it all the way out. At last! In no time at all, the rest of him followed and Sherry lifted him up to my chest. Just like that his little body was in my arms and the pain was over. Sherry recorded 3:57. What profound relief and gratitude I felt in that moment!

I'd waited so long to get a good look at him!

It turned out that the reason his average-sized head took so long to come out was that he had it tilted to one side and had his right arm next to it as well--what Sherry called a "nuchal arm." His head was molded into a lopsided cone that you can see in one of the pictures. It was very strange looking, but resolved itself within hours. As a result of his positioning, I wound up with a first degree tear that needed stitches. It was definitely something I'd been hoping to avoid, having needed stitches after three of four other births, but this time it went better and was much easier to heal from, I'm happy to say.

Of course I was completely unaware of any of that in those first minutes as I sat in the pool just staring at him and soaking him in. It was like heaven, that first hour of marveling at him together. It was no less amazing the fifth time around than the first, to see him finally in my arms and kiss his little face.

Soon after I delivered the placenta, they helped me out of the pool and into bed. It is always such a strange feeling, standing up and walking after giving birth. It's like trying out a new body for the first time. When I had to get out of bed again to go to the bathroom, Sherry cautioned me to go slowly. I thought I was, but then Tim said, "Whoa, slow down--you're off to the races!" I didn't feel like I was moving fast; it's just that I felt so much lighter and moving was so effortless compared to moving while nine months pregnant. I was practically floating. Sherry and Lou watched me like a hawk as I made my way from the toilet to the shower, then as I luxuriated under the hot water, always vigilant lest I go floating down fast to meet those tiles.

8 lbs 10 oz and 21.5 inches long. A keeper!

Our firstborn had gotten off the bus around 3:30, then I assume she'd gone straight to her room on the other side of the house and put her earbuds in. Tim brought her her new baby brother to meet, and look at her body language! It's like he's holding a giant booger in his arms.

The boys finally came home around 8. Timmy had had to stay after school, along with all the students in 3rd grade and up, for a play rehearsal till 5. Joey stayed in aftercare during this time, which for him is a real treat (he asks me all the time if he can go to aftercare, but aside from messing up the carpool plan, it's $5/hour, so sorry buddy, that's a no). They went home with friends and had dinner and swam in a neighbor's pool. They were excited and happy to meet Thomas. Timmy exclaimed, "Look at how tiny his toes are!" and "He has the softest skin!" I don't remember where Annie was or what she was doing during this time. That's what happens when you have this many kids, and in this range of ages.

Three + weeks later, I can't even remember anymore how it felt to be overdue and ready to pop, waiting to meet my belly's tenant and wondering what he'll look like. His birth already feels like forever ago, the agony of labor a distant memory. Now I often nap with with him in my arms. He's a beautiful little sleeper (and somewhat of a grumpypants when he's awake, if truth be told).

Here are some pictures from then to now. Welcome to our crazy family, Thomas Matteo!

They were almost birthday buddies; Annie turned 13 two days later.

Joey's Birth Story

Warning: Lots of TMI in this Post!

On Sunday, December 13 I spent the entire day feeling sorry for myself. Actually, I had spent the past 12 days feeling sorry for myself. I loved every minute of this pregnancy up until 39 weeks, but from that point on I felt like I was waiting for Joey to be born at any time. Then when the 40 week mark came and went, I started to avoid coming out of the house, not wanting to have any conversations with neighbors about how I was still pregnant. I did not like being asked when my midwife would induce me (she would not), what's the latest I can still be pregnant and still have a homebirth (so discouraging! And it's 42 weeks.), if the midwife had swept my membranes (no, she doesn't do that and I don't believe in it either). I knew that they all meant well and were just curious, but those kind of conversations were not helping me. Physically I was so exhausted. Everything I did took maximum effort. I did a lot of cleaning around the house, but I felt so wiped out afterward. It wasn't a happy nesting, more like angry, impatient nesting.

So on that day I woke up, as I had so many mornings before, in disbelief. I was still pregnant and not feeling a twinge. In fact I felt rested with nary an ache anywhere in my body. My mother-in-law Carolyn would be leaving the next day at noon. I would be going to church again still pregnant. I was 40 weeks and 4 days with no end in sight.

That night at around 8 I got a text from my friend Kim down the street. "Mind if I stop over for a bit?" It was just Carolyn and I in the living room at that point. Tim had gone back to our room to wind down with the iPad, and the kids were in bed. I said, "Sure." A few minutes later she came to the door accompanied by our other friend Jesse. To my complete surprise, Kim told me she wanted to pray over me, and had been meaning to since the day of my shower. She told me she wanted to pray for this baby to come soon, in fact to get here tomorrow before Carolyn left. She had been staying with us since the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and we'd all expected Joey to arrive long before now. She could not stay here any longer this close to Christmas. Kim said, "Let's go big (with our prayers)! God is big, right?" I had to agree. I sat down in the recliner, and Kim and Jesse perched on either side of me and each placed a hand on my belly. 

Kim began to pray. Carolyn, nonplussed I'm sure, turned down the TV. Kim started with "Dear Heavenly Father," and then I don't even remember the words. I just remember her voice and their hands, and feeling loved. 

By the time they left I felt comforted but I didn't have any expectation of having the baby in the next 16 hours. It's not that I lacked faith. It's just I knew that whatever was God's will was what was going to happen. He had to come out eventually. I felt more at peace about it than I had in a long time.

Buut.. just in case it would work, and as I had been doing for weeks, I/we had tried just about every natural labor-inducing technique we had at our disposal. I had walked that day, sat on the exercise ball, practiced yoga, taken my evening primrose oil a few times, drunk my red raspberry leaf tea, and done the thing that had gotten me in this trouble in the first place. As a last resort I had decided to try castor oil first thing in the morning, and that little bottle was waiting for me on the kitchen counter. I did not want to have another prenatal appointment with my far-away midwife. I wanted to have a baby.

I headed back to bed soon after, and Tim and I watched an episode of Breaking Bad before going to sleep. I drifted off easily enough, but I found myself waking up suddenly at times, not knowing what had caused me to. A strange feeling? A dream? I remember the wind blowing through our open window and one of the annoyingly bright spotlights on the little access road behind our house winking at me through the swaying tree branches.

2:00 a.m. or thereabouts

I became aware that I was having contractions, and that I could no longer sleep. They were not painful, just a little achey. They made me feel excited and hopeful. I wanted to get out of bed, but I had read that when a woman wakes up in early labor in the middle of the night, she needs to keep resting instead of jumping out of bed. Otherwise, she can interrupt her body's labor process. The dark quiet hours of early labor are important. Or something like that. But I started timing the contractions anyway, and they were consistently five to seven minutes apart.

I was wide awake, my mind racing. What to do? When to call Joanne? When to wake up Tim? Joanne had an hour-and-forty-minute drive and I wanted Tim to sleep, especially since I could end up being in labor all day. But at the same time I was worried about being late to notify Joanne, with my history of quick labors. Or slow labors that suddenly pick up. When Tim got up to use the bathroom I couldn't help but tell him. He said, "Are you serious?" No, I joke about these things all the time! He asked me what he should do and I told him that we should try to go back to sleep. But neither of us could because I was becoming increasingly restless and the contractions were now about four minutes apart.

2:40 a.m.

I needed to use the bathroom at that point and it turned out I wasn't going to need castor oil that day. (Don't say I didn't warn you about TMI.) When I saw bloody show on the toilet paper, I knew it was time to at least give Joanne a heads-up. I was hesitant and apologetic when she answered on about the fifth ring. She didn't sound sleepy, though. It must be a gift that doctors and midwives have, not sounding sleepy in the middle of the night. "I don't really know if it's time to call you, but.." I told her what had been going on. Then I told her I didn't know if she ought to come yet. I was handling the contractions so easily even though they were keeping me awake. I said that maybe I really ought to try just going back to sleep. She said to just call her when I needed her.

The contractions continued to be about four minutes apart, and I needed the bathroom two more times in the next hour. More bloody show.

3:18 a.m. 

I called Joanne again and told her that I'd had no luck getting back to sleep and I thought she should start heading here. She could always find something else to do around here or take a nap if labor slowed down. I really hoped that would not happen. I did not want to be wasting her time and making her do the long drive in the wee hours, but I knew that if I waited longer I risked her not making it in time. I had known all along this would be a tricky call to make with her being so far away! But now I'd made the call and she and her apprentice Stephanie were on the way.

I don't remember why I went to the kitchen then -- maybe to get water? -- but I suddenly felt so cold while I was walking to the kitchen and back. I shivered and my teeth chattered. That had happened when I had woken up in labor with Annie too, and I had been fully dilated when I got to the hospital a little while later. I thought it was a good thing Joanne was on the way. I have no idea what I spent the next several minutes doing, just probably flitting around our room, going to the bathroom now and then, and talking with Tim.

3:50 a.m.

I sat in the glider rocker and prayed a rosary as I rocked back and forth. The Joyful Mysteries, how perfect. Tim began setting up the birth pool. The noise must have woken Carolyn up, as the guest room is right next to ours. I heard Tim's quiet murmurs in the hallway as he must have been updating her. I sat there for a long time after I was done with the rosary, and just closed my eyes and kept rocking. Tim started to fill the pool once he was done setting it up because the instructions said it could take three hours to fill. He had some trouble with the attachment to the faucet, and I remember him saying it was leaking under the sink. 

5-something a.m.

I decided to try again to rest on the bed. This could be a really long day with me up since 2. Tim joined me once he was done filling the pool. It was only partly filled because all the hot water was gone. I didn't need it yet anyway. I remember hearing my 5:30 alarm go off while I lay there. Soon it would be time to get the kids up for school, and the midwives would be getting here any minute. I figured it was taking an extra-long time because Joanne had known there had been no need to rush based on the way I sounded on the phone. Tim called the gate at some point to notify them that we would be having visitors.

5:45 a.m. 

Joanne and Stephanie arrived and I was so embarrassed to be answering the door myself, realizing that I was walking and talking like a person NOT in active labor. I told them I thought maybe things had slowed down. I no longer felt shivery and the contractions seemed to be spacing out too. I worried that I was wasting their time, but they did not seem concerned. They just brought their stuff in and sat down at the kitchen table. I felt ridiculous as I cooked my breakfast of three eggs-over-medium. I guessed I'd better eat. I was apologetic and they were like, "Don't worry about it." 

Meanwhile, Tim and Carolyn oversaw the kids getting ready for school. When they all came out for breakfast Joanne and Stephanie moved to the living room so as not to be in the way. I felt like a bad hostess. When I was done eating I went to the living room and told them I'd like them to check me, and then if they wanted to go somewhere else or take a nap they could do that. We had talked about this scenario many times during prenatal visits since it was a big concern of mine. I felt bad that, despite my best efforts, I had gotten them all the way over here for nothing.

6:30 a.m. 

Joanne and Stephanie followed me back to the bedroom for the requested cervical check. Stephanie did it. She felt around with a very thoughtful look on her face and it was a long time before she said anything. Please say something, I thought. "Well, you're 80% effaced, and ...." What? The longest time went by before she said anything else. "You're not going to believe this, Rachael, but.." Ohmygosh, spit it out, lady! "..You're 8 cm and very stretchy." She looked up at Joanne and said, "I could easily stretch her to 9." Looking at me again, she said, "Once this baby decides to come, it's probably going to be very quick." Joanne asked her what station she thought the baby's head was at. She thought and said, "I could feel the ischial spines, so I guess +1?" They decided not to go anywhere.

I went out to the kitchen and announced to Tim who was talking with his mom at the table, "8 cm." He asked what that means. "Two to go!" I felt so much better, not like I was wasting everybody's time after all. There would be a baby soon!

6:55 a.m. 

Tim and Carolyn and the kids left for the bus stop. I hugged each of the kids on their way out. It seemed like a big deal, sending them to school for the last time before their baby brother was born. Besides being a little more wound up and rambunctious than usual, they did not seem affected.

I received a text from Kim a few minutes later, once all the kids had left. She asked me if I'd like her to come over and take pictures of the birth, or if I'd rather just have her take newborn pictures. I replied that she could come now and hang out, but nothing much was happening yet. I would want her there when things did start to happen, right?

7:10 a.m.

Kim arrived and remarked that she did not expect to see me looking so normal, as she'd been updated at the bus stop that her prayers last night had been answered. But here I sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Joanne joked, "OK, the whole team is in place. You can have a baby now!" I laughed but inwardly I felt like a watched pot. No one but me could even tell I was having contractions. I texted my mom an update: "In labor. 8 cm but contractions are still mild. Strangest labor ever. Midwives are just hanging around and I've been drinking coffee." The photo below, along with all the black-and-white ones, were taken by Kim.

Everyone sat around the table talking about this and that, and it was very pleasant, but it felt like I was entertaining. Only there was a twist -- everyone was waiting on me to have a baby. Joanne threw out the suggestion at some point that I might want to take a walk. A little while later I thought to myself that that was a great idea.

7:40 a.m. 

Tim and I stepped outside and into the fresh morning air and I immediately felt better. The best part of that walk was that the two of us were alone again, and I no longer felt self-conscious. Joanne would later mark in her notes the start of active labor being when we came in the door after the walk. Tim told me he thinks that active labor started as soon as we walked out of the house. Right away, he said I started to breathe loudly during contractions. I remember him asking me how far apart my contractions had been, and me telling him, "Four minutes." He said, "That was two minutes. Math is not your strong suit." We walked up to the corner, turned and walked two streets over, and then I said, "I'm going to have to cut this walk short." He said, "I'm surprised we've gone this far." We turned and started working our way back, talking and laughing and me mouth-breathing through contractions as we went. I remember saying after some of them, "That was a good one." This walk was just what I needed.

As we headed back toward home, I said, "If I want to have this baby anytime soon, I'd better have some alone time when I get home. As soon as I sit back down at that table, this comes to a grinding halt." He said something like, "I'll need some alone time too. This is my day. It's all about me." It was so nice to relax and laugh. I don't even think Tim ate much of anything for breakfast because he had felt so awkward. When we were in sight of our house, I had a couple contractions that I could feel radiating into my thighs. I remembered from the other times that when I start feeling it in my thighs, I'm getting close.

8:00 a.m. or thereabouts 

Back at home we updated Joanne and she noted the start of active labor. I got a laborade popsicle out of the freezer and headed back to our room, telling everyone I needed quiet time. I bounced and rolled on the ball and ate the popsicle, which dripped on me. I looked up and noticed Kim lurking in the doorway with the camera. She started to back away but then I talked to her and she talked to me. We chatted for a little bit and I enjoyed her company. I felt a little bit less like I was in labor. Then she said she'd leave me alone now. She hadn't meant to bother me in the first place. 

Very soon after she left the room -- within minutes -- my lighthearted mood changed. I cried for a little while. The contractions began to hurt. The tears and the intensifying contractions let me know I was in transition. Joanne and Stephanie must have come back because there's a record of the baby's heartrate at around 8:15. That would also be the reason my top was pushed up too. And Kim must have come back because there's a picture.

Everyone left the room again (I think because I'm pretty sure I was alone again for a little while), but they all came in a short time later when I said I was ready for the pool. They would need to drain out cold water and add buckets of hot. I didn't care what they were doing. I had turned a corner and was now deep in Laborland. I no longer wanted to be alone. I needed support and encouragement. I felt overwhelmed and I told Tim, "I don't know if I can do this." (Those words sound familiar. I think I use the same script every time I'm going through the hardest part of labor.) The task ahead of me just felt impossible.

8:45 a.m.

I changed into my bathing suit top and skirt and got into the pool. The water felt so good. I knelt and hung onto the side.

The contractions got harder. I started to make "sad sounds, loud sounds," like in the book . Tim rubbed my neck and told me I was doing awesome. I looked at him and said, "It really hurts!" Stephanie was close by, reminding me sometimes after a contraction, "Let that one go. That one's over." There must have been panic in my face after them, because as soon as one was over, I'd wonder how I could possibly handle another. Joanne watched from the glider rocker, taking notes and sometimes reminding me to keep my face loose or giving me some other encouragement.

I tried moving around and changing positions. I remember trying a contraction while floating on my back. I didn't like it. I moved around a bit and said, "I don't know what to do with myself in here." I was told to just do whatever felt best. I ended up on my knees hanging onto the side. I rocked back and forth and swayed from side to side. I also decided to take off the skirt at some point, saying I didn't think it was serving any purpose. Joanne readily agreed and added that the umbilical cord would get tangled in it anyway.

9:10 a.m. 

I had a couple(?) of rock-my-world contractions -- the kind that peak more than once. I distinctly felt his head descending in my pelvis. I remember crying out, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, help me!" Then as the contraction wound down I half-sighed, half-moaned, "I can't do this alone." "You're not," Tim said. 

I also said things between contractions like, "I'm crazy. I can't handle pain," and "I don't like pushing." Joanne chuckled and said, "I like pushing." I think by then I was just bearing down, not really pushing. I really do hate pushing. I probably could have had this baby out by now if I didn't hate pushing so much. Words don't describe the agony that is pushing. To push means to feel the pain, and then to push right into the pain and make it worse. But to push also means to have a baby born sometime today.. 

This bottom picture is one of my favorites. People want to know why I'd do something as crazy as having a baby at home with no drugs. THIS is why. Here I am surrounded only by the husband I love, the two attendants who are familiar to me and confident in the birth process, in an atmosphere of peace and tranquility. There is no pressure, no bright lights, no people in scrubs, no beeping monitors, nobody "checking my progress." Just love. 

9:28 a.m. 

I began to push in earnest. There was no getting around this. Every push felt like eternity. It was shocking to look at Joanne's notes and see that what happened next took place only in a matter of minutes. It felt like hours.

9:32 a.m. 

I complained that I wished my water would break (again, same script!). Joanne told me that if I wanted to I could reach in and feel it and break it on my own if I wanted. What? She urged me to at least try to feel it during a contraction. I did, and felt the bulging bag of waters right there, not even a knuckle deep. How did she know that it would be right there? I later wondered. She couldn't see it. I halfheartedly poked at it but nothing happened. "I can't break it," I said. Stephanie explained that the amniotic sac is like a cushion for my pelvis, which was a good thing. They both assured me that this baby would be coming out soon no matter what.

9:36 a.m. 

My water broke and I told them although they probably already knew. Everybody cheered and Joanne said, "The water's clear."

I kept my hand there to feel what was happening because I knew he'd be coming soon. It helped me stay focused. But again, it felt like an eternity of pushing. If I didn't have Joanne's notes, this story would just read, "This happened for FOREVER, and then this other thing happened FOREVER." I held onto Tim's hand for those last pushes, pulling on it as if he were helping me out of the pool. I felt Joey's head crowning, and it burned. Then his head came out and just stuck out of me. I felt relief at first, and I touched his face and ears. Then I freaked out. It seems that I forgot in that moment that it's normal for a baby's head to come out first, and then for there to be a pause before the next contraction comes and the rest of the baby comes out. I called out, "He needs to come out now! Someone help me get him out!" Stephanie, smiling into my eyes, said, "It's OK, Rachael. He's just rotating into the perfect position and he's going to come out on the next contraction." I calmed down and waited for it.

It came, I pushed, and the rest of him slid out easily into my waiting hands. I brought him up to my chest and sat back against the other side of the pool. The time Joanne recorded is 9:41. 9:41, a mere nine minutes after I felt the bag of water, 13 minutes after I started pushing.

I was saying, "It's Delaney Jr!" We thought he looked just like her when he first came out, but after a couple days we no longer thought he looked like anyone. No two of our kids look alike.

I was full of wonder and gratitude as I held him and looked at him at long last. He started to cry right away. Joanne and Stephanie said he looked like a big baby. I would expect nothing less since I'd already had big babies and I'd carried this one for so much longer than the others. 

A few minutes later I pushed the placenta out, which was followed by a gush of blood that had them a little concerned. Then they helped me out of the pool and into bed, and gave me some shepherd's purse tincture for the bleeding. Stephanie squeezed it out of a dropper and told me to hold it under my tongue for as long as I could before swallowing. She warned me that it would taste horrible but it wasn't too bad.

As I lay there with Joey on my chest underneath a towel, he had a massive meconium poo all over my belly. Tim took a picture, but I will not be sharing it (you're welcome). Joanne and Stephanie sponged us off, but it wasn't long before he did it again! A huge amount both times. 

The next couple hours were a happy blur. I spent about an hour on the bed with Joey on my chest, and about the last 15 minutes of that I began to nurse him for the first time. Timmy got home from school and was brought in to see his baby brother. 

My little buddy -- a big brother!

It was time for Tim to bring Joey out to meet his grandma, but first the cord needed to be cut. When they offered Tim to do the honors he was like, "Sure, I guess. The most climactic part of this has already happened as far as I'm concerned." He really doesn't get the whole 'dad cuts the cord' thing. Still, he dutifully severed Joey's connection to the placenta. Unfortunately, I can't share the picture of that momentous occasion because my boob is in it, but I don't think Tim will be disappointed. I think he was much happier once the cord was cut because he got to do this:

Oh, this reminds me -- at some point Joanne suggested that Tim take off his shirt and do skin-to-skin with the baby. I said, "Yeah, maybe he'd like that." But when Tim heard he said, "No. I'm not taking off my shirt." Going into this he'd already told me he wouldn't be getting into the pool. He'd seen the picture of the husband and wife in the birth pool together in the instruction manual and cringed. He was not going to do anything "weird" like get in the pool or take off any of his clothes.

Then he put on Joey's first diaper. To this day that has been the extent of his involvement with this kid's diapers. He put a clean diaper on his clean butt and he was done. It's a good thing we have a picture.

I love this!

Meanwhile I went to take a shower because the bleeding had slowed and I felt strong enough. Joanne was fine with me taking a shower but she had real reservations about me washing my hair. She asked me how long it had been since I washed my hair, and I told her it was due for a washing today. She warned me that if I took too long to wash it I would pass out. I assured her I wouldn't take too long, and I would sit down if I needed to. I literally only spent a couple seconds at a time with my hands in my hair. She called out to me about every 10 seconds, "You OK?" "Yes!" I enjoyed my shower, but I didn't want to spend too much time in there since I was making her a nervous wreck.  

During this time the midwives also checked me for damage. I waited with bated breath to find out if I would be needing stitches again. I was so grateful when they told me that I had only the smallest of tears and it would not be needing a single stitch. Hooray! The fourth time was the charm.

Tim brought Joey back in for his weighing and newborn exam so that Kim could capture those moments too, before she had to take Carolyn and her parents to the airport. Yes, our birth photographer was also airport transportation that day.

8 pounds 8 ounces. My guess was closest, only an ounce more! Annie remains my biggest baby at 9 pounds even.

A little before noon, Kim and Carolyn came in to say goodbye. Carolyn seemed close to tears as she said, "Thank you." I said, "It wasn't my doing." Looking at Kim she said, "I think it was YOUR doing." Kim said, "It was His doing," pointing upward. Soon afterward they left. A half hour later Joanne and Stephanie left, and we were on our own. I had lunch in bed and just rested the next few hours. A few hours later I heard the pitter-patter of feet running down the hall as two little girls who'd just gotten home came to meet their new baby brother. What a day. Welcome to the world, Joseph Daniel. You came in your own good time and in the most perfect way.