Saturday December 8th ended up being the last day of my pregnancy. Granted, my brain understood that after 37 weeks, birth really could be “at any moment” - but I had prepared myself for 41 to 42 weeks, this being a first pregnancy and all. I got up and showered, rubbing cocoa butter on my big belly for what would be the last time. I spent the day with some friends. We lit the first Hanukkah candle on my little brother’s motorcycle menorah. Husband made a quick dinner - cheeseburger macaroni. I went to bed thoroughly worn out by 9pm. At exactly 11pm, I woke up feeling like I had to go to the bathroom - not exactly a new thing for me during pregnancy. I tried to go, but couldn’t - again, not a new phenomenon during pregnancy. But this was particularly difficult, painful even. I cursed the cheeseburger macaroni and went back to bed. All of 15 minutes later, I was back in the bathroom and again, nothing. The pain came, went and I tried again to go back to bed. By the time Saturday Night Live came on, the pain came back. My husband came into the room surprised to see me awake. I groggily said that I thought I might be having my first real contractions. We watched the opening to SNL together, but I was out by the time the first skit was over. Until the next contraction. At which point, Husband hurriedly downloaded an app that would let him time the contractions. Sure enough, they were lasting for about a minute apiece.

Now, we’d taken our Bradley classes and Husband passed the test to become my doula with flying colors. I’d attended a few births in Nursing school. We “knew” that labor, especially for a first baby could be in the range of 18 to 24 hours. We also knew that false labor was a possibility and that one of the most important things to do in very early labor was to sleep. So I tried. And failed. Eventually, I could “understand” my contractions a bit better. Strangely, my brain was transported back to my undergraduate muscle physiology course. Just before a contraction, there was a “dipping” sensation and I pictured the depolarization of the muscle tissue as if on a graph. The deeper that “dipping” the stronger the contraction would be. Husband had crawled into bed next to me at this point and was annoyingly asleep (ok, he was amazingly wonderful - I was just jealous that he could sleep so well and I couldn’t). I would poke, prod, or beat on him whenever a contraction was starting so that he could start the timer. He would dutifully wake up and then go right back to sleep. I found that the worse the contraction, the longer it would take me settle enough to drift off. Of course, I would start drifting just as the next contraction got started. The longest I slept after 11pm was 20 minutes.

The duration between contractions kept getting shorter and shorter. Not once did I ever think, “I’m in labor.” I kept waiting for things to stop or plateau. They never did. I found that moaning during contractions helped. At some point, Husband woke up and insisted that I needed to get up and walk. I wanted to kick him but was too tired. I think I walked about 30 feet. He didn’t want me to lie down and suggested a shower. So I hopped in. And leaned against the wall during contractions. I’m sure I wasn’t in there long. I was stumbling around the house when he suggested we call the midwife. I was still in denial. I didn’t want to go down to the birthing center only to be told that I needed to go back home. It was about 4:30am. At around 4:40am, he made the call and paged the midwife. He told her he thought it was time and she wanted to talk to me. She was very calm. Husband was ripping open the brand new ear thermometer we bought to take my temperature. Midwife asked if I thought I needed to come in and I heard myself saying yes. Husband had become a whirl of activity. I had to give him back the phone because another contraction was coming. I’d walked out to our front room and leaned against the dining room table while one of the strongest contractions yet started to hit. Luckily, a distraction came in the form of my Husband snapping a picture. It seemed reasonable - especially if I really was going to have a baby that day. Husband grabbed all our bags around 5am and ushered me down to the car. I was clinging to the grab bar above the window during contractions and arching off my seat. I felt hot and had Husband roll down the windows while we drove. We got to the center quickly and arrived maybe 2-3 minutes before the midwife at around 5:20am. I remember the midwife being very calm - but not opening my eyes very much. We entered her main waiting area and all the furniture was gone. She mentioned something about the inevitability of there being a birth on the day they had the carpets shampooed. She offered to let me use the restroom and I accepted. While peeing, I had the first strange sensation - my body seemed to seize up at it’s center completely involuntarily and quite painfully following a contraction. I must have howled loudly enough to scare my husband but tried to reassure him that I was “okay.”

I followed the midwife into an exam room to be checked. I saw this as a necessary evil. Being on my back was the worst. I kept asking to roll over. Survived the check and midwife announced I’d made it to 8cm dilated and we were definitely having a baby today. She asked if I’d like to get in the tub. I leaped at the lifeline. She prepped the birthing tub and I transferred down the hall to it, carelessly discarding my nightgown and hopping in. Then came that strange uncontrollable seizing again - now accompanied by involuntary grunting. I was terrified by it. And there was nothing I could do about it. In between, the midwife (again, so calmly) was encouraging this - saying I just needed to “let my baby come down.” I’m thinking, “Let baby come down? How do I even begin to control this? This is happening whether I let it or not!” I couldn’t predict when these episodes (what I later learned was ‘‘pushing”) would happen. I heard the midwife tell Husband that he should go call our families. While he was gone, the midwife’s assistant brought me the best tasting cup of ice water I’ve ever had. Husband returned. After the third “pushing”, I felt a subtle “poof” between my legs and realized my water had broken.

There was maybe one more pushing seize and midwife said she could feel baby - she had me reach down and I felt hair that was soft and not mine. I was sort of transported by the pain of the next push/seize. I screamed and heard the panic & fear in Husband’s voice as he tried to comfort me. I knew that the next push was going pummel one of the most sensitive areas of my body and I couldn’t stop it. I was too busy screaming to hear the midwife calmly ask me to bring my knees up - but it didn’t matter because she and Husband did this for me. And with that push/seize, out popped a head. The Midwife asked me to try to hold on while she cleared a cord from around the baby’s neck. I really did try, and luckily my Midwife had really quick hands. A few seconds later, a second push forced the rest of the baby out. The Midwife lifted my baby from the water and handed baby to me. It was 5:55 in the morning.

The overwhelming relief combined with my assessment of my child. Baby could breathe and was crying. Baby was so tiny (5lbs, 13oz), and extremely fragile looking with wrinkled skin. I just held on. After a few seconds it seemed, the midwife asked if we wanted to know the sex. We’d completely forgotten all about this. So I lifted the baby off my chest for a minute to look - we had a girl.

TL;DR: Baby girl born drug free after less than 7 hours labor, 15 minutes pushing.