Don't worry, I will spare you the blood and gore and keep it short and sweet. In fact, I wrote it in 10 steps. Enjoy!
1. Cars are Evil. I walked into the hospital at about 8:30am Tuesday March 1st. Prior to that I had been feeling contractions that were decently consistent in the early am hours of that day. My mom and I decided to go to the hospital just to see if it was time, so we called the midwife, got my bag (which had joined us in car rides many times "just in case" I had the baby at any given moment), and started the longest 45 minute car ride of my life. Contractions + cars = death. Maybe not death, but it was definitely on the top three list of "Why You Don't Deliver At a Hospital Far Away."
2. Relax, Don't Resist. When they checked me I was already 2 centimeters dilated. I had the BEST nurse, who gave me the greatest tip of advice- don't resist contractions. Whenever you feel a contraction, simply stop what you're doing, focus on your breathing, and let your body fall into a c-position. Don't resist the pain. It's going to happen anyway, so you might as well suck it up and get over it. Yelling and screaming just makes the contractions more painful, resulting in them becoming closer together quicker (which will eventually happen at the end, but you need to save your energy, so it's best to just try to relax).
3. Pack Your Own Personal Massage Therapist. Thank God my mom is one, because I had a free one with me! She literally gave me back rubs my entire labor- here's to 21 years of never getting a full massage, haha. She definitely paid for it.
4. Music is Essential. Personally, my mind has to be in the right place for me to fully relax and let go of any fears of "what ifs" that plague my mind. Making my environment suit my mood is super important for me, so I had a playlist of Bethel music flood that delivery room. It didn't only affect me, but everyone around me, which was something I had prayed for going into the hospital. That God would move and people would see his strength in me.
5. Shout out to Water births. I wanted a water birth to help manage the pain naturally (becuase I was NOT getting an epidural. Big Needle + Emma = No Way). The cool nurse explained to me that going in too early usually slows down labor. So, I went in for a little bit at 6pm, and then got bored (I know, I know, what crazy woman gets bored while about 6 centimeters dilated? Apparently me). I decided to get out of the water and continue to walk around, use the exercise ball, and sway.
6. Laugh. It'll be wonderful to look back on this moment and realize you had no idea what you were doing. I laughed my entire labor- another reason for the nurses to question my state of mind and start to think "are we sure we didn't give her an epidural?" It's better to let go of pain you can't control. Or try to convince yourself it isn't pain- I didn't do that, but I wonder if it would have been even better (or worse and more exhausting) if I thought that way.
7. Take Advantage of Popsicles. It wasn't until about 7pm that a nurse offered me a rootbeer flavored popsicle, but OH MY GOSH IS FLAVORED ICE NOT THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD IN BETWEEN CONTRACTIONS? Seriously. I've never loved a popsicle more. I actually decided to be brave and ask if they had any other flavors (they didn't, so I enjoyed a few more rootbeer ones).
8. Expect the Unexpected. My water didn't break until 9.5 centimeters at 9pm. The midwife checked me, and suddenly the Nile River entered the hospital room. Believe every woman who tells you it's a huge gush. We're 100% right. Also, once your water breaks, contractions might not actually get closer together (mine didn't) but they definitely feel like they did, because you lost your cushion that helped some of the pain.
9. Water is Your Best Friend. At some point during my labor I took a shower, which was really helpful. But after my water broke, there were more nurses in the room, someone was standing in front of the clock and I yelled at her. Then another nurse started massaging my lower back during a contraction (WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT) and I yelled at her. Then someone asked me if I wanted a drink/cold washcloth and I yelled at her. Then I gratefully accepted both of those beautiful things. After getting enraged/starting to panic during contractions because people were invading my peaceful place/ I was in pain, I then decided to go back into the tub and stay there for all eternity (or in my case, 10:49pm, the time Finley Oliviette Ricupero arrived into this crazy, beautiful world).
10. Keep Going, You're Almost There. While in the tub, I then asked "Where is the midwife?" to the nurse. She then preceded to say, "Oh I think she ran out to her car to get her coat." Many dark words flooded my mind with rage because why, when someone is basically fully dilated, did it seem like a good time to go get your coat?! SERIOUSLY?! I then managed to yell/whine/sob "someone needs to get this baby out of me! Now! Help!" When the midwife returned I made her check me in the water (because I refused to move ) and she said I was fully dilated. Disclaimer: just because you're fully dilated doesn't mean the baby is going to just pop out. Haha, I wish. The contractions, however, do go away! This was probably my favorite part, minus feeling claustrophobic in a square tub with 4 nurses, a midwife, and your mom surrounding you. Thankfully they were holding me up/encouraging me. At some point they also told me "yes, she's almost here." Liars. But with a lot of breathing, "more.water.please." gasps, and patient persistence, Finley came into the world on March 1, 2016 at 10:49pm. All 7 lbs. and 4 ounces of her.
And today she's 5 weeks old, has the most hair apparently anyone has ever seen on a baby (since every where I go it's like I'm parading around a tiny monkey), smiles, coos, makes the best faces, and has completely won my heart.
The day she was born was the first time I saw perfection, and as much as I told myself "I'm never having kids again" (I probably will because I've accepted the fact that I'm now one of "those moms who has kids and doesn't remember things), a child is a gift worth every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears. She's the reason I wake up in the morning (even if that just so happens to be 4, 2 hour interval times), she's the beginning of what could be the next generation of hope, and by her changing my life I now get the opportunity of being changed by raising her.
Emma...that was an AWESOME story! Very encouraging.
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