At least you get a baby for it.

During my pregnancy with Owen I was venting to my cousins on our daily e-mail chain about the aches and pains of pregnancy, which led one of them to say: "Pregnancy sounds hard - at least you get a baby for it!" And this pregnancy was most definitely hard, but, on October 6th we DID get a baby for it. Lyla Jean Prowse was born on October 6th, at 7:18 a.m., weighing 8 lbs, 10 ounces and measuring 21 1/2 inches long.

So after 5 months of worry and bed rest and freaking out that she would arrive WAY too early, she ended up arriving ON her due date (something we're told rarely ever happens). At 1 a.m. on the 6th my water broke and instantly woke me up. I'd like to attribute her punctuality to all the mother/daughter conversations I'd had with her about arriving on time (I had a serious fear of giving birth to a 10 pound baby). But in actuality I give credit to the dozens of doctors appointments that tracked her growth and due date, and possibly the Evening Primrose Oil and Red Raspberry Leaf tea I'd been consuming for the 2 weeks prior to her arrival.

I should preface this by mentioning that at my weekly appointment on the 5th, I finally had Trish check me and was THRILLED to learn that I was dilated to 4 and more than 90% effaced. Trish said that she'd be shocked if I didn't go into labor before the weekend was out. Little did we know I'd go into labor that night. She advised me to do some activities that required me to be on my hands and knees (minds out of the gutter, please), like scrubbing the kitchen floor, to try and get the baby to flip down into the right position. She was on her side on Wednesday morning, which wasn't a serious concern, but was something to try and remedy. So Wednesday afternoon I got on my hands and knees and weeded my entire front yard. I think it did the trick.

After my water broke I called the midwife on duty at Henry Ford (and was glad it was Amy, who works in the Troy office with my midwife Trish, and who was my midwife when I was in for the cerclage procedure). She advised me that, given my stats at my appointment the previous morning, that I quickly arrange for childcare for Owen and start making our way in. By the time I hung up the phone with my cousin Lauren to have her come stay with Owen, my contractions were already about 6-7 minutes apart and intensifying pretty quickly.

Eric flew to the hospital. I don't even know how long it took because I spent the car ride eyes-closed working on my deep breathing and relaxation exercises. Oh, and on trying not to throw up.

My parents were already at the hospital when we got there. I couldn't even talk to my mom on the wheelchair ride up because of the intensity of the contractions. And they weren't even that bad yet! When we checked in they put us in a triage room, only to move us 10 minutes later when it was decided that yes, I was definitely in active labor (duh).

They were kind enough to fill up the big jacuzzi tub in my room before we even got there - something I had been looking forward to with this birth. Too bad once we got to the room all I wanted to do was lay on my side on the bed and not move so I could focus on breathing through the contractions. The staff were great about giving us our space and privacy. I was able to lay in the quiet with just my mom and Eric throughout most of my labor. And I was free of all monitors and IVs. Someone would come to check on us every half-hour or so, and when they did they were SO respectful of my hypnobirthing methods and wouldn't talk to me or touch me until I signaled that the contraction was over and I opened my eyes. The majority of my labor was quiet and peaceful (note: peaceful does NOT equal free-of-pain), which was just what I had wanted.

And then, sometime around 5 a.m., I lost it. I looked at Eric and said: "I think I might want some drugs. I don't think I can do this again. Is that horrible?" I think he was surprised, but obviously told me he supported whatever I wanted to do. Except I think deep down we both knew I didn't really want any drugs, because I didn't really push it, and didn't ask again. And when Amy came in to check me and told me I was almost 8 centimeters, and that it was really too late for most kinds of drugs and that this baby would be on her way very soon, I felt relieved and excited because I knew it was getting close.

Towards the end of my labor when the contractions were at their most intense I felt Lyla start to move around (which adds a whole new level of pain to the contraction). I remember saying: "Make her stop moving! She's killing me when she squirms around!" And Amy saying that it was GREAT that she was moving, because she was moving down and out and would be here soon.

And then my midwife Trish came on duty just before 7:00! She was mad (jokingly) at me that I hadn't e-mailed or called her to tell her I was in labor (she had said all along to let her know, and that if she wasn't busy, she would come in). I explained, in the midst of giving birth, that I hadn't wanted to wake her up in the middle of the night - to which she replied: "but that's my JOB!" She's the best. And Amy, who was my coach, therapist and voice of reason for the entire labor, was gracious enough to let Trish "catch" the baby, since she also delivered Owen. The two of them made an awesome team in the final half-hour of the birth, and I feel so lucky to have both met them and chosen them to be there for the Lyla's birth.

I mentioned that I wasn't on any kind of monitor, but when the time comes for the baby to start working her way out, they start hand-holding a monitor to your belly every few minutes, just to keep track of the baby. I knew something was up when they were debating whether the heartbeat they were picking up was mine or the baby's. And I also sensed the heightened anxiety when they determined that it was, in fact, the baby's, and therefore it was way too low.

Trish informed me that I had "2 more contractions to push this baby out" otherwise she was going to have to cut me and pull her out because she was in too much distress to stay in there any longer. Uh, YIKES.

So I pushed and pushed and pushed. And after the second contraction she still wasn't out. So I had to keep pushing. Sans contraction. And there's really no way to explain this to someone who hasn't felt the sensation of a contraction causing your body to bear down and "push" out a baby. But your body needs the contractions. Its what does most of the work in getting the baby out. Without it, it's just your puny little muscles trying to force the baby out. Which is... HARD. And painful.

It was a straight-up TV/movie style birth. In that everyone was yelling (albeit very nicely) at me to "PUSH PUSH PUSH, PUSH one more time! Come on, push ONE more TIME! Keep PUSHING!" Which is definitely NOT in line with a Hypnobirthing birth, but was necessary to get Lyla out safe and sound (and fast).

And about 2 very intense minutes later, she was out.

And sweet, sweet relief followed. Not only do the pains of labor stop instantly, but there was now a wriggly, healthy, perfect little girl squirming around on my chest. I wasn't afforded that experience with Owen, as he was whisked off to the NICU minutes after his birth, and man am I glad I got to experience it with Lyla. We just laid there and cried tears of joy (well, hers were probably tears of: "Where the hell am I and why is it so COLD!?") But mine were tears of joy.

She stayed on my chest for probably 20 minutes (I think?, time became a little fuzzy at that point) before they took her to get her measurements and stats. Mind you she never actually left my room, they just curtained off half of it so that Eric and my parents and brother could be with her while I was getting stitched up and what not.

And holy lord were there some stitches (sorry to any of my guy friends or coworkers who might be reading this). But since I was basically forced to push her out probably a good 20 minutes before my body was really ready, I had some heavy-duty damage. So bad, in fact, that it required a surgeon to come down and stitch me up - something that is usually Trish's job (she handled it when Owen was born, but "the damage" was much less severe).

But, again, at least I got a baby for it.

And they let us come home the next day! Again, so different than with Owen, who was in the NICU for 8 days after arriving 6 weeks early. And with his birth I ended up getting an infection (I'm sure from the residents continually "checking" me once my water broke), so I was on IV antibiotics for a few days at the hospital before they let me go home. It felt weird to come home so quickly, but also pretty wonderful. And now, 12 days later, it feels weird to think that she everwasn't here in our home.

So. The purpose of this blog was to document our ridiculous summer of bed rest and a new (old) house. The bed rest is clearly over, and I think we're done making major improvements to our house for the season - although we have some big plans for next spring/summer when we can finally tackle the OUTSIDE of the house. I do have a few more things I want to share about both my experience with hypnobirthing as well as the experience of bringing home a new sibling for Owen (which has been... challenging). A few people have asked me to keep the blog going... I think I'll probably keep it up through the holidays - until I go back to work in January. So look for a few (probably quite sporadic) posts between now and then.

And thanks again to everyone who has been there (and continues to be here) for us during our tumultuous summer. We truly could not have survived it without the generous help and time and love of our friends and families. We love you all.