I started having signs of impending labor and irregular contractions on Saturday night (the 8th). They continued through the day, and strengthened Saturday night. We stayed home from church on Sunday and I tried to get the apartment cleaned up, as well as sleep whenever I could, as my midwife kept reminding me that being sleep-deprived during labor was a lot worse that going into labor with a messy apartment (”What’s done is done! Eat something and go take a nap!”) Contractions were stronger Sunday night, and so I had a second night of almost no sleep as I paced through the apartment. From the beginning of labor until birth, I could NOT sit or lie down during contractions, but had to be upright and preferably walking. I basically spent three days and nights on my feet.

Due to a couple of random high blood pressure readings, my midwife asked us to go to Montgomery Hospital (about an hour away) on Monday for another non-stress test (where they hook you up to monitors and watch the reactivity of the baby’s heart) and an amniotic fluid test. Both tests were perfect, so we were cleared to go home and expect a homebirth. I was contracting hard enough that afternoon that I had to stop and wait a few out on the way back to the car. After returning home, we got things ready at the apartment, not knowing how long it could be. My contractions continued to get stronger, but never got regular enough to call the midwives. They had said to call them when the contractions were four minutes apart, lasting a minute each, for an hour. Sometime in the middle of the night, Paul started timing some of them (thankfully, without keeping me apprised) and they would be two minutes apart . . . and then ten minutes apart . . . and then four minutes apart . . . and then fifteen . . . and so on. This went on all night, as I paced around the apartment. Paul got up with me most of the time, rubbing my back or letting me hang on him, but I eventually told him to try and sleep, since I would need him later.

We had our birth pool inflated and ready, but hadn’t filled it, as my midwife didn’t want me getting in the pool too early. At about 3:30 am, Paul called her to tell her my contractions weren’t regular yet, but asked if I could get in the pool because it was getting too hard for me to deal with and I was getting really tired. She said that she and Kadie, her student midwife, would come by and see how I was doing, but they might not stay if I wasn’t far enough along. We also called our friend Rebecca, also a student midwife and doula, who was planning on being with us for labor and birth. They all showed up soon after (Janet lives four blocks away, and Rebecca, three) lugging their giant suitcases full of birth supplies. Really, I could not believe how much stuff they brought in! They have entire oxygen tanks in there.

They asked if I wanted to be checked (I had not had a single cervical check during my pregnancy, which is one thing I love about my midwives) and decided to see how far along I was. Kadie checked me and her eyes got wide as she said, “I think she’s complete.” Janet, surprised, check me too and said I was indeed close to complete, but had a slight anterior lip that had to go before I could push. Soon after, Janet’s partner midwife Kathy showed up and checked me as well, and said I had a bit more lip than the others had thought, and pushing against it would swell it and could cause damage. The baby’s head was very low, and my water bag intact. I had to be catheterized twice, unfortunately, to make sure their wasn’t anything blocking the baby’s descent, although it wasn’t as bad as I thought. The worst part was having to lay on my back for it - I will never know how women labor on their backs. It just KILLED me to have to lay down for a minute!

I continued to labor, in the pool and out of it, for most of the day. The pool made everything so much better! Also, Rebecca has weightlifter muscles that could do this awesome hip squeeze during contractions, which made the contractions much more bearable and makes more room for the baby to descend. Later Kadie, an Ashtanga yoga teacher, and Janet would push at the same time, one on each side. Rebecca and Paul also pushed on pressure points on my hands during contractions in the pool, which helped a lot.

But by noon, my contractions were starting to slow and became weaker. Another check showed that all those hours of labor hadn’t gotten rid of a smidge of that anterior lip. And I was exhausted. I had gone three nights and days with almost no sleep, and my midwife pointed out that a tired mother makes for a tired uterus that doesn’t contract well. I was falling asleep between contractions, in the pool, in the shower, even laying on the bed getting checked. Everyone was pushing fluids on me, mixing straight honey with an electrolyte drink to try and give me more energy, but nothing was helping.

My midwives sat down to talk about my options. I really appreciate that they always discuss everything with me fully, and tell me all the potential benefits and consequences of every decision. Kathy said one option was to go to the hospital and get a low dose of Pitocin to kick start contractions again, in the hopes that a small amount would be enough to get the baby born before I totally gave out or the baby began to not tolerate labor well any longer. Another option was to break my water. She explained the risks involved in an artificial rupture of membranes; the most serious is a cord prolapse, where the cord comes out with the water, getting pinned between the baby’s head and my pelvic bones. This is a potentially fatal situation for the baby, requiring an immediate emergency cesarean. However, she could tell the baby’s head was very low, with a bulging bag of water, so she thought the actual risk of prolapse was very tiny, since there was no room left for the cord to prolapse. Another risk is simply that it wouldn’t work, and instead would leave me open to the risk of infection and put me on a timeline to delivery. Hospitals usually do an automatic c-section if your water has been broken for 24 hours. I might have been able to wait longer than this if I had no signs of infection, but it wasn’t a risk I really wanted to take. Neither option was something we wanted at all, but we also knew that we had to do something about the fact that I had basically been at ten centimeters all day with no progress. The midwives left Paul and I to talk it over and decide what, if anything, we wanted to do.

To be continued . . .