Eugene's Birth

By: Katy Carlson

I went to bed on March 25th feeling excited but also nervous, as my official “due date” was the next day. That day, I had heard from a priest that the number 40 in the Bible was the number of “trial.” He was making a joke to a couple who had been married for almost 40 years, telling them their years of trial were almost over. I thought, maybe my 40 weeks of trial are almost at an end too.

That night, my son, Chance Jr., who was 11 months old at the time, woke up coughing with a runny nose. I held and rocked him while my husband, Chance, helped wipe his nose and fed him a bottle. I looked at the clock—2 a.m. It was already the next day. My due date. We put Chance Jr. back in his crib and went back to sleep. I felt a small cramp but ignored it.

I woke again at 4 a.m. and 6 a.m. with some Braxton Hicks contractions, but since I had experienced previous nights of prodromal (false) labor, I chose to ignore them and sleep through them. At 7:30 a.m., I woke to my daughter, Laura, and Chance Jr.’s cries. When I got up, I felt more Braxton Hicks contractions. I felt a little irritated, knowing that today was my due date and I still had no baby—just more false labor.

I grabbed my iPad, put on Winnie the Pooh, and gave it to Laura to watch with her brother so I could shower and try to feel better. After my shower, I got ready for the day and took the kids to eat breakfast. We had oatmeal together, and as I was cleaning up, I felt something different—but familiar. I immediately texted Chance:

“Just had a contraction that made me go ‘oh wow.’”

But I chose to ignore it. I figured it was nothing, but I assured him I’d call if more contractions started.

Around 11 a.m., I put Chance Jr. down for a nap. I still felt crampy, like I had to go to the bathroom, so I sat down and tried—but nothing happened. When I wiped, I noticed a large chunk of what I thought was my mucus plug. I texted Chance and my mom. My mom asked if she needed to come yet, but I assured her that although I had lost part of my mucus plug, it could be nothing.

Chance Jr. woke from his nap, and he and Laura played with me. I decided it was a good time to make some lunch, but I felt another cramp and went to the bathroom again. When I sat down, I suddenly felt intense cramping. When I wiped, I saw more of my mucus plug—this time tinged with pink blood. As I wiped again, more and more came out, with red-tinged blood. The intense cramping told me this was it.

I immediately called the birth center and spoke to the midwife on call. I told her I would call my husband and my mother and that once my mom arrived, she would drive me to the birth center. I assured her I was not in imminent labor and that I would have plenty of time, as my contractions had only just started.

I called Chance, who had a two-hour drive to the birth center, and my mom, who had a 40-minute drive from the hospital where she worked. The plan was for my mom to pick me and the kids up, drop me off at the birth center, and then head back home while I waited for Chance.

Next, I called my doula. She asked me a series of questions about how I was feeling. While we were on the phone, I had a contraction. She told me it sounded intense because my voice changed, and I had to stop to breathe. She said she would meet me at the birth center.

I told her my contractions had only been happening for 30 minutes and were still 10-15 minutes apart. Then I called my friend Jessa, who was also planning to attend the birth. We were both energetic and excited on the phone! I told her my contractions were still pretty far apart but getting closer so she could be ready. We talked for about an hour. Without my knowledge, she had been timing my contractions and told me they were every 6-8 minutes—not 15 like I thought. I realized I should probably get changed and grab my bag.

My mom arrived, and shortly after, Chance’s mom arrived to watch the kids. I ended up calling Chance’s mom because I wanted my mom to leave my van with the car seat at the birth center and drive Chance’s truck home once he arrived. At first, I was reluctant to call her because I didn’t want to bother anyone, especially since I still wasn’t completely sure if this was labor or just pain from needing to go to the bathroom.

Thank GOODNESS I called her.

No more than five minutes after my mom and I pulled out of the driveway, the contractions began. One after another after another. I could not sit still. I climbed into the back of the van as the contractions overcame me. They forced me onto my hands and knees, clutching my toddler’s car seat and pounding my fist on the hard backing. Every once in a while, I made low, deep groaning sounds in agony.

My mother reminded me to breathe deeply.

I apologized for my outbursts, and she laughed.

“Katy, I’ve been where you are before. Do not apologize!”

She drove as quickly as she could, though construction slowed us down a bit. She called my doula, Jessa, and Chance to update them.

I looked up after one contraction ended, and behind us was a hearse.

Isn’t that ironic?

As we approached the city where the birth center was located, I asked how many minutes until we arrived.

“Seven minutes,” my mom said.

A few more painful contractions, and we were there. Relief washed over me.

We made it. Now the hard work continues.

⸻

My doula met us in the parking lot, and she could tell by the tears streaked on my cheeks and the strained smile when greeting her that I was far along in my labor. When we got inside, I was told to go into Room 3. I said, “I need to go to the bathroom now,” and the nurse reminded me that there was a toilet in the birthing room. Oh yes, duh, I thought.

The nurse asked if I wanted privacy, but before I could answer, I ran in, took my pants off, and sat on the toilet. Right then, an intense contraction took over, and I couldn’t sit still. I yelled and said I felt like I needed to poop, but it was hurting. My doula reassured me that it was my baby coming down and that I needed to trust it. I was in denial and still felt like I just needed to poop.

I went to the bed and leaned on the birth ball my doula propped on the bed for me. My midwife knelt next to me to check the baby’s heart rate during a contraction. My blood pressure was also taken. I did not have a cervical check, as it wasn’t needed—anyone with eyes could tell I was in active labor.

The nurse began filling the tub. That’s kind of quick, I thought. Maybe people get in the tub during early labor? I still had no idea what phase I was in or if it would get worse. I dreaded it getting worse because I wondered how my body could inflict much more pain than this onto itself. After all, your contractions are you.

I went back to the toilet, still thinking that was the cause behind all this discomfort. I asked my mom about my friend Jessa and when she’d be here, and the nurse said that she was already there. Jessa then walked into the room, and I looked over at her and smiled. I still can’t believe I was able to smile in that moment, but that’s exactly what I needed.

The tub was ready to go, and I was escorted over. The water felt nice and warm and comforting. I had many contractions in the tub, but I can’t remember them exactly. I remember hearing background voices. It was like I was in a dream, floating in space. I heard things between contractions like, “Do you want music?” “I like this song.” “She’s so strong.” “The guest of honor has arrived,” when my husband walked in, etc. I smiled at him when he walked in with my eyes closed, and I heard my mother’s voice: “I think she just took a little nap.” Then I snapped back into reality.

My eyes opened wide with each contraction, and I would sometimes grip the tub, grab for my mother, or make low noises. I wondered again how my body could create a force stronger than this. I waited for contractions to become stronger because I was always told they would gradually intensify, but I didn’t realize at the time that I was already in transition.

I felt the contractions in my back and low in my pelvis. They were sharp, reminding me of the birth with my son—those sharp contractions during the induction with him had started when I was only 4-5 cm. I was convinced I had only gotten that far and that all this pressure was just the need to poop. My doula reassured me a few times that this was the worst part, that I was indeed in transition, and that I was very close to meeting my baby. She said something along the lines of, “If I’m wrong, you can fire me,” which made me chuckle a bit. I’m still amazed that I could find the slightest bit of humor in a moment like this.

Several other pain relief methods helped me get through this fast and furious labor—my doula rubbing oil on my back, my mother and Jessa with the cold cloths on my arms, my husband showing me pictures of our kids in the bath. I loved seeing their little faces in the bath while I was in a tub too. It made me realize that the world was still going on as usual outside of this.

I had a few more contractions in the tub until I felt a sudden change in mindset. I began to feel scared and like I couldn’t do this anymore. My doula told me, “You’re safe, and your baby is safe.” Chance said, “It’s okay to be scared. You can do this scared. You can do hard things while scared.” Those words have stuck with me to this day.

I started to stand and said, “I really need to use the bathroom.” I was escorted to the toilet, and when I sat down, the pressure was so intense that I had to immediately stand back up. I paced around. I felt strong and amazing. I felt like I could see, hear, and feel everything. My senses were extremely heightened, and I remembered from a course I took that this is what some women feel before pushing. It’s natural because, after all, we are mammals, and before mammals have their young, they get a burst of adrenaline that allows them to check their surroundings to make sure their baby can be born safely.

I sat on the toilet again and said, “It’s too intense!” Then I felt a pop and a gush—my water had broken. My doula escorted me back into the tub. It was time to push.

I asked the midwife to help me feel for my baby’s head, and she said it was about two inches in. I felt inside and touched something hard, which I knew was his head. I knew I could get him out. I had a contraction and tried pushing, but I felt exhausted. I had another contraction and tried to push again, but my efforts weren’t making the progress I had hoped. I said aloud, “Please come out!”

With the third contraction, I pushed so extremely hard that, according to everyone, my body turned completely red from my face to my lower back. Chance said, “Katy! Katy!” right in my face to get me to look at him. He looked in my eyes and took a deep, exaggerated breath, as if to tell me to breathe. I breathed with him, deeply in and out.

With the next contraction, I took a breath in and pushed as I felt my baby’s head emerge. I kept pushing with that contraction and helped myself open further by pushing my perineum over my baby’s head with my fingers. By the end of that contraction, I took a breath, and my baby’s head was partially out. I leaned back and held my hand under my baby’s emerging head so I wouldn’t accidentally sit on him. I laid back in the tub and listened to my midwife’s instructions.

She advised me to keep breathing and do slow pushes. I pushed a few times, more slowly and easily than the pushes on my knees, and my baby’s head slowly stretched out and was born. I was told to wait for the next contraction to push the body out. I let her know when I was ready, and with one more push, my baby was born.

I cried joyfully with relief and immediately grabbed my baby, hugging him to my chest. “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” I said.

I fell in love in an instant.