Our Birth Story

Most birth stories start the day that labor kicks into gear. How the contractions started. The rush to the hospital. Maybe a blizzard or rush hour traffick that ensued. Or the many methods attempted to induce labor, resulting in a  final water break. Our story does not start like that. Instead it starts nearly a month earlier at childbirth class.

We had been taking childbirth classes through a nonprofit in the cities for the past 7 weeks. The classes were once-a-week for 8 weeks, discussing all topics from how to have a healthy pregnancy to what post partum should look like. They were set up on a rotation, and you could join any time.  This was our last class: The Nuts and Bolts of Labor. This class was  supposed to tell us everything we could expect when the big day arrived. We sat, patiently waiting with 3 other couples and a handful of nursing students. The class was supposed to start at 6pm and it was already 6:15. The teacher was yet to arrive. So we all sat there, discussing how long we should wait before we decide she's probably not coming. The classes run for 2 hours. So we decided to give her an hour.
6:30...6:45...7. Still, no maestra. One at a time we all gathered up our purses and waddled (because that's what pregnant women do) out to the parking lot, into our cars, and drove home.

The next day we recieved an e-mail from the organization saying how profusely sorry they were for the mistake, how they were handling the situation, and how they hoped to see us at the next class. All this was great. Except it was 3 weeks until our guess date and the next time the class would be offered was 8 weeks away. I was definitely having this baby before I'd have a chance to take this class again. I emailed the organization back, explaining the situation, and asking if I could get the class notes or if they had any other resources available. No reply. So that left me to the Internet, more specifically, You Tube. And everyone knows how clear and accurate the Internet is.

3 weeks later and 3 days, I was 3 days overdue. So armed with my You Tube knowledge of labor and delivery, I decided to go walk the mall. We live about 5 minutes from the Mall of America, and they have mile markers, letting mall walkers know how many miles they've gone. I read (again on the Internet) that 6 miles was the magic number to kick-start labor. So I walked....and I walked...and I walked...and I walked, until I had reached 6 miles, and after that I had errands to run. So all in all I probably walked about 8 miles, all with no signs of labor. One of my errands was an appointment at the Birth Center where the midwife let me know it was normal for first-timers to be about a week and a half late. Once optimistic to not be a statistic, I was now losing hope.

I went home, ready to embrace another week of pregnancy. However, the next day I woke up to "period cramps" and blood in the toilet. My first thoughts? "Dear God, all that walking hurt my baby!"
So I called the midwife on call, terrified that something was wrong. I explained the situation and they reassured me, that I'd simply lost my "mucus plug," (if you don't know what that is, don't Google it. Just don't).  They also advised that I should go to work, because labor could still be 2 weeks away. I drove to work, again embracing another week of labor.

5:45 am the next morning, I woke with unfamiliar cramps in my back and pelvis. Exhausted, but figuring I just needed to pee, I got up, used the bathroom and went back to bed, but the cramps persisted. As 7 am rolled around, the thought finally occurred to me, "are these real contractions?" The cramps came and went. How close were they together?
5-1-1. Every 5 minutes-1 minute long -for 1 hour. This was the real deal!...or so I assumed.

We weren't supposed to actually head towards the birth center until contractions were 3-1-1, but I was told to call and give the midwife a heads up.
I dialed the number, waited, and finally the phone picked up "Hello," our midwife's voice chimed. I explained to her about the contractuons, and as expected, she recommended to relax, take a bath, and try to sleep. If it was real labor I'd need my energy, if not the contractions would subside in a few hours of R&R (rest and relaxation).

So I did just that, a little hopefule, but not too optimistic. After all, if these weren't real contractions, labor could still be about a week away. I had accepted this. However, thr contractions persisted.  I texted our doula and she let me know to call her when I needed her. This may be just the beginning, but she'd be there when I needed.

Now let me tell you a little bit about our doula. And for those of you, who are not familiar with that term, a doula is basically a birth advocate. They're a person who's there for you throughout the birth, speaking up for your birth plan, and making sure your voice is heard throughout contractions. As any woman whose had a natural birth knows, when you have a strong contraction, you literally don't have a voice, and a doula can be a tool of success. Our doula was very special and exactly who we needed. I truly believe the Lord sent her to us. She is a tall, blonde, military-trained woman who loves Jesus. When you you get into the natural health realm that can be a little difficult to find. Someone who loves Jesus, that tis. With a lot of natural health coming from Eastern Philosophy, there tends to be a crossing into the Eastern Spirituality, just because of the nature of Eastern Cultures. In the West we really like to segregate our spiritual life from our physical life. In Eastern philosophy it's intertwined, which I love, and it's why I love natural medicine. However, I also chose to be mindful of where that Spirituality is rooted (for me, it all has to be founded in Jesus). So when I met our doula, and not only learned that she loved Jesus, was going on a missions trip to Latin America just weeks after our guess date, and felt the Lord had called her to be a doula, I knew that the Lord had placed her in our lives. And she was really there for us, especially when contractions began to pick-up their pace. 

Contractions didn't pick up until the minute Fabian walked through the door. And that's when things really began to take off.

4-1-1.I called my mom and asked if she could order us some Chinese take-out, so at least Fabian would have something to eat. More than happily, she did, she even ordered us cheesecake for dessert. The food arrived, and I could barely eat. Which meant Fabian couldn't eat, because he was by my side every minute. Every four minutes I would drop to the floor, hands and knees, trying to remember what they said about breathing. I couldn't think, but new it was time to call our doula. I called and she was there in minutes, hair in a long braid, dinosaur shirt to lighten the mood, and ready for anything. I really don't think I would have survived without her. She was also the one who suggested we head to the birthcenter.

3-1-1. We called the midwife-on-call, to let her know we were on our way. She said there was another birth taking place, so when we got there we may have to wait for someone to come to the door. At this point, I didn't care. I just needed to leave the house. I also thought I had another 12-18 hours to go. Remember, I was armed with Internet knowledge, so the best I knew was that active labor didn't start until you reached the birth center. Little did I know, I had probably been in active labor most of the day (our doula would clue me into that after the fact).
Quickly, or as quick as we could when you have a charlie horse in your uterus every 3 minutes, we grabbed our labor bag and headed to the car.
5 contractions and a not-so-scrupulous car

ride later, we were pulling into the only open parking spot. Thank God it was right by the front door. Also, the nurse was ready to let us in as soon as we rang the door bell. We walked in the room, put all our bags down, and the nurse encouraged us to relax and get comfortable. Plan A was to have a waterbirth. So at this point I could have got in the labor tub. Plan B...well, we didn't really have a Plan B until this point where I realized I was too exhausted to do anything, but curl up on the bed and sleep between contractions. Needless to say, we used plan B.  All the while, our awesome doula prayed through every contraction (which was such a soothing sound and incredible blessing) and Fabian curled up on the bed next to me.

Sleeping, crying, and being coached on how to breathe. Suddenly the contractions changed.  A shudder went through my body. What was that? The next contraction hit... the same different. I told our doula, and she asked me what I meant. Suddenly, the realization hit me "I think I need to push." All the nurses and the midwife  were in the other room, assisting the other mama bring life into the world.
"OK, just stay calm," our doula coached, and started explaining what the next faze may look like. More contractions came, still feeling the sensation. Suddenly little baby cries erupted from the other room. And they must have been cutting the umbilcal cord as our baby girl was getting ready to crown.
Our doula went to grab the birth team.
As they came in, they seemed amazed. My water still hadn't broke, but was being born along with our baby.
The midwife described "it kind of looks like a water balloon." She paused. "Do you want to touch it?"
Are you kidding me? As calm as could be "Just get it out."
Baby's head began to crown.
Pop.
Water broke. 
Baby being born.
2 steps forward. 1 step back.
Final push.
Cries erupted in our room as a tiny wet baby girl was placed on my belly. Her head snuggle against my chest and crying ceased as my heart beat entered her tiny ears once again. "Hola," I whispered.
Her big black eyes popped open wide to greet me, and I knew I had never loved anything or anyone more in my entire life. My heart was full as Papí (as Fabian was now officially a Papí) cut the umbilical cord. Big black eyes, curly dark hair, a little wet mess. Our baby girl was finally here, born perfect.