The Friday that she died, I was worn out emotionally. Certain family members were rude, religious barriers caused hurtful remarks and isolation. There were times of complete regression on my part-confidence that took six years for me to have in myself dwindled. It was a terrible week.

As I held my grandmother’s hand when she was dying, I looked around the room. Everyone in that room was holding on to someone or being held by someone-while the only one’s hand I held~ laid dying. As she breathed her last breath, I crumpled. I remember thinking the only person in that room that has loved me unconditionally has just left me.  It was in that moment I felt the baby move and kick. The baby moved so much for the next five minutes that it occurred to me: This little one was letting me know that I wasn’t alone.

I like to think she was comforting me.

Though the months after were hard emotionally, I gained a newfound appreciation towards my husband and children. I eagerly awaited the arrival of my new baby. I can’t even begin to describe the bond that had already been established long before her arrival.

The Long Wait

My Midwife, Shirley, is a small lady with a voice that is soothing and calm. Over the last seven months I enjoyed my visits and looked forward to her being at the birth. It was quite easy to express my concerns and fears to her and I knew that the experience of this birth would be enhanced with her attending.

On June 27,2003 I began what I had thought was early labor. I made the call to Shirley’s apprentice, Leslie to let her know what I was feeling. I told her that the ‘contractions’ were painful but very different from what I known contractions to be. I knew that each labor was different, but this pain just was just something all together different. Though I kept being told by Leslie that it was contractions, I dismissed my own feelings. This was the beginning of a lot of self-doubt about my body and what was happening and also the start of a very long week.

During this week, people started to know that I was ‘in labor.’ The countless emails from friends all over the country and the daily ‘check in’ calls were appreciated in more ways than I can express. My husband was put on ‘phone duty’ as I tried to just relax and not feel the physical and emotional pressure of delivering. Five friends who I mentally call “The Fab Five” were amazing. Three of them came and got our children to give us a break. The kids had a blast with each of them and this generous gift was something our children needed. They needed a break from their parents as well! The other two were our birth attendants. Each coming over giving their support, helping out and most of all being encouraging. They have no idea how their friendly smiles and easygoing attitude decreased the mounting stress I was feeling. Each acted as if this was just another activity in their lives, not a crisis. That was a true gift.

It was Saturday and still no baby. Leslie came over to check me to see if I made any progress. She told me I was 5cm. YES! Halfway there and I was elated. I gave my husband a look of triumph since he was telling me over and over that I wasn’t in labor. Later, when Shirley’s partner, Shine checked me (it was later that night) she corrected Leslie’s  mistake.

I wasn’t 5cm- but 2cm!  Since Shirley’s husband was having a triple by-pass that week, I knew I had to rely on Shine and Leslie until Monday when Shirley would be available. Even though she told me to call her anyway- I couldn’t~ knowing what she was going through with her husband. Despite these reservations, she came to our house on Sunday and she and I took a very long walk. She made it clear to call her if I started to progress. After feeling the baby, Shirley told me the baby had most likely been turning. That would explain the ‘different’ pain I was experiencing.

Sunday turns to Monday and then it was Tuesday. My husband’s impatience and lack of comfort was annoying and frustrating. I understood that he only had a week off from work, and he wanted that time to be with the baby as well, but his attitude was making me feel rushed. I wanted to have this baby when she was ready, but the stress of ‘time’ was getting to me. It was later that evening, I felt a leak- like a period. I called Shine (Shirley’s husband had made a turn for the worse and she was with him that day) and she came over. She said it was my water- but she wasn’t worried. She thought it was my back waters. Growing tired and frustrated, I finally just asked her to break my water! I knew that once my waters broke I’d have this baby.  She said they would try ‘inducing’ first.

Ugh. Wednesday was a day of tastebud torture. Every thirty minutes I was putting black cohosh (which has the lovely taste of warm dirt) under my tongue and then swallowing. This kept the contractions going. Later that night, I was given a nice concoction of dieter’s tea, recharge, and  castor oil.

I would later regret my decision of agreeing to the castor oil.

That night, I slept- though restless, and still no progress. I knew time was an issue, since they believed my waters were leaking and regulations stated that I had to be in ‘active’ labor within 24 hours. Around 10 am Thursday morning, Leslie came over and asked how I was feeling. Visions of the castor oil appeared in my mind and I retorted, “Crappy.”

A few hours later, Shine came over to give me my options. I was facing hospital transfer because I wasn’t progressing. This annoyed me. Finally, I just said, “If you’d just break my waters I’d have this baby and we all could just go on with our lives!”

Shine agreed to break my waters and by then I was 4cm. Then they left! Shine’s last words to me were that if my contractions were 5 minutes apart then to call her and if they were 3 minutes apart call Shirley.

I called my friend Erika who was going to take pictures and coach to tell her to try to be at my house around 4:30 or so. I knew Cheree was going out of town (our other coach, friend, massage therapist) and was disappointed that she was going to miss it. She’d been one of the Fab Five who was over at our house helping out. Ian took the kids to McDonald’s and I told him to fill up the tub. “Oh, we got plenty of time.” He said. I knew we didn’t and filled it up myself.

I was alone for about 30-45 minutes which was indeed a good thing. The contractions were getting stronger and closer together. It was during this time that I was finding ‘my groove’ and dealing with the contractions my way. I also started to get a little nervous and immediately started to pray for God to remove the fear and give me strength. I could deal with the contractions-just not the fear. With each contraction, I would hum softly. I don’t know why, but with my eyes closed and humming-it seemed to work.

Natural endorphins were kicking in and I could feel myself opening.

I realized I hadn’t been timing the contractions but they were indeed coming closer together. I called Shine and told her she better get here and to please call Shirley for me. By her tone, I don’t think she was taking me too seriously. I had a feeling she wasn’t in a rush to get to my house.

Leslie arrived first.  I asked if anyone had called Shirley. “Shine called her,” she said.

I was leaning over the couch when I felt that unspeakable urge to push. My immediate thought was “NOT YET!” It was too soon. I waited till the next contraction and sure enough- the same urge to push was stronger.

“Leslie, I have to push.” I said this in the same tone as “It looks like rain.” The look on Leslie’s face hysterical. “Don’t push!” She shrieked.

I don’t know exactly when Shine and Erika got there but it was shortly after because I remember Leslie saying to Shine, “She says she has to push!” and Shine yelled, ”DON’T PUSH!” Leslie was calling Ian and for the third time I asked if anyone called Shirley. Someone (not sure who) said yes.

“I’ve got to get in that tub,” I told Shine. Finally, I got in. The warm water was calming and eased the intensity of the contraction-but not the urge to push. Shine checked me and as if it were her idea said, “Why don’t you push? Go ahead and push if you want to!”

I squatted and along side the tub and with Shine’s fingers still inside me I started to push. It was very uncomfortable with her ‘intruding my space” and told her to get her hands out! She started saying  how this was where I would want to rush and I didn’t want to tear…… all of it falling on deaf ears. “Just get your hands out!” I said loudly.

“Okay, you do it then” she responded.

I felt inside me and could feel the baby’s head. This allowed me to push gently because I could feel the baby move downwards. She was still pretty high, but with each push she was moving lower. I couldn’t believe it! This little baby and I were working together. I could feel she had hair! I remember thinking soon I’d be holding her.

Ian and the kids came in. I remember Ian taking his place behind me outside the tub and kissing my forehead.

The baby’s head was crowning.

I pushed and then her shoulders came out-and it was at that moment I lost my bearing and grabbed my ankle letting her go and said, “Get this baby out!”

 Shine yelled out a scolding, but I ignored her~ giving one last push and seeing my baby float up to the surface.

I reached out and grabbed my baby.

Lots of commotion afterwards… but I was oblivious to the noise. I held my baby in my arms and could feel the tears brimming in my eyes. Unlike my other births, the shock of this childbirth was only seconds. I was able to feel my emotions, not be numb to them. My little one opened her eyes and I kissed her. There isn’t anything compariable to the warmth of a newborn baby.

“Welcome, Little One,” I whispered.

Ian was touching her head and kissed me. “Wow!” he said.

We both laughed and gazed at our baby.

“She’s finally here,” Ian said.

“Was there ever any doubt?” 

It was Maw-Maw that taught me the true nature of a mother’s bond with her child. I lost her in March, but on July 3, 2003, I gained this special person who I know will teach me many more lessons in the years to come.

Over dinner, my eleven year old daughter Angelin, proclaimed that everyone in her class has a cell phone except for her.

EVERYONE.

“Wow,” I said taking a huge sip of my water, “That’s a lot of cell phones.”

“I really want a cell phone!” She said this in the way one might ask for a kidney because their life depended on it.

“You’re not getting a cell phone.”

“Why?”

“Angelin. Seriously. Who are you going to call on the cell phone that you can’t call on the home phone?”

Silence.

Knowing I just ended the conversation because of my overwhelming wit, I smiled and took a bite of my food. “Exactly.”

“Well, how about when I’m thirteen and have babysitting jobs and need my own number because my clients need to call me?”

“Then, we’ll talk about it. You’ll have money to pay for it. Might be a possibility.”

She grinned.

Fast forward to a few days later when the same eleven year old was begging to see a PG-13 movie, one I hadn’t seen yet.

“BUT MOM!!! I’m ALMOST THIRTEEN!!!!”

“Angelin. You’re not even twelve yet. Get real.”

A few hours later, because I was a bored, or perhaps because I had a long day and in much need of a glass of wine, I decided to tease Angelin a bit.  Angelin hadn’t done one of her chores, a chore she somehow forgets to do DAILY.  I called her on it and listened to the many excuses that ranged from the rising gas prices to global warming.

Finally, after using the excuse that Hillary isn’t the presidential candidate,  I stopped her and shook my head. Clicking my tongue to show disappointment, I sighed, “Wow, Ang, you were getting a cell phone for your birthday too.”

“REALLY!”

“Yes, because you’ll be thirteen…” I slapped my forehead, “Oops. I’m sorry! You’ll only be twelve your next birthday. My bad!”

There was the stomping of the feet, a couple of “Mom, you’re not funny” and  one  “You’re so mean. I’m going to search for a family that really loves me” but Ian and I gave each other a high five anyway.

Because sometimes? It’s hard to resist acting like a preteen.

Especially when you live with one.