Trying to psyche people out about the arrival of your baby can backfire. Well, backfire isn't a great term since I got an 8lb 10oz bundle of unbelievable cuteness (if I do say so myself) in the end, but the path to get that bundle, isn't a lot of fun. I apologize for the million types, rambling, run on sentences...yanno, birth.
Anyhow, if you're not one of my forced friends reading this, I delivered Desmond this morning, making last night's post very relevant. I felt the first pangs of labour at around 5:15am, but having been fooled before, I decided to take the wait and see approach. At around 6am, I knew it was the real deal and told Dearest to rouse inlaws and kids from bed, Baby D was on his way. We called the doula at around 6:30, thankfully she lives down the street. The midwife didn't get called til about 7, and by that time I have the lovely experience of back labour, something I don't recommend. Nothing really worked short of standing and holding onto the door, but that gets old very fast first thing in the morning. In retrospect, I should have known something was up, I had a great freaking sleep last night. My body was prepping me for the brutal task ahead. Anyhow, we called the midwife, she got started on her way, and of course, great big traffic jam. However by 8, she arrived with her secondary. She checked me to see how dialated I was and that was when I knew I was having a homebirth.
Well there wasn't much choice in the matter, which made my decision all the more easier. You simply don't up and go to the hospital that easily at 8cms, not that you'd get any relief anyhow. If the midwife had have said I was at 3-4cms, I think I would have gone and gotten an epidural, but I was not moving from my beautiful bed.
So 8am, and he was born at 8:39am, so you can imagine how that 40 minutes went. Thankfully, fast and furious. The midwives ripping everything out of their bags at lightning speed, Dearest and my awesome doula finding every blanket and towel in the house, and me dreaming of vasectomies and hanging up my uterus. Thankfully that awesome moment of pushing came and while I felt completely in control of what was going to happen to me in terms of being handled by my awesome caregivers, my body and I were having words until the pushing point came. I remember yelling/screaming, everyone assures me that it was just some primitive gutteral noise that still has me sucking Halls because my throat feels like I've been trying to swallow a microplane. However it felt soooo much better to be pushing and if I was going to have any say in this, 40 weeks was coming to an end pronto!
Anyhow, it didn't feel long before Baby D was born and gave the world a look at what a cute little fella he is. I survived with a small tear, and for all my bravery and gusto during labour, I nearly shit myself when it came to put in the ONE stitch and had to be held down my my doula and Dearest...seriously. I guess when you're done, you're done.
Shortly after, I was cuddling and nursing Baby D, who pooped on me, TWICE! He;s risking a nickname he wouldn't want me to repeat to future girlfriends.After lunch, because we were done so early, (Thank you, by the way Baby D, your timing was absolutely perfect, you're well on your way to a puppy) my monkeys came to visit their brother and sang him a tune of happy birthday. They're so freaking cute when they're not swinging from the chandeliers.
Would I recommend homebirth? For me, yes! thankfully my births are fast and furious, because I don't have the will for a long one. My two previous kids have broken me, and I'm low risk. I loved staying in my nice peaceful house, I love the fact that other than running to the washroom, my washroom, I don't have to move anywhere. There's no place like home. My birth was managed in that we were well taken care of, but not controlled. I pushed on my own accord save for a brief moment to allow some necessary stretching to happen. We're warm, cozy and comfortable...well as comfortable as one can be with a stitch where no stitches should ever go...and yes, I'm going to moan about that for days, you've been duly warned. Baby D is awesome, healthy, cute, nursing well, sleeping, cuddling, all those sweet newborn things. My MIL asked if we were taking him to the hospital, but everything has already been done, in our home and he will be visited tomorrow by our midwife for further spoilage and checking up, but by my Mommy Spidey Sense, he's just in great as shape as the two big ones, even a little more peaceful. The Parental Units have the two big guys for the night, which is making this a wonderfully peaceful night at home. I would do it again... if I were to have another baby, which at this moment, other than adoption, the answer is emphatically NO! Maybe in a few years, or five I might forget back labour.
For anyone else, it's a call you have to make, ultimately as a mom 3x over, my one piece of standing advice regarding birth is to be flexible (no pun intended). Babies and bodies have their agendas and you might be able to coax them to follow the party line, but you never know. If you're interested though, definitely look it up, get a midwife who supports you. Hire a doula...cannot stress enough! Get Dearest on board, he was reluctant, but was a champion when push came to shove (yuk yuk) and even brought up tea and snacks when it was all said and done. For me, it was a great experience and I am very very very thankful I did it. I'm still in awe that I could do it and very happy that I'm in my fortress of solitude with my baby and dearest.
The downside, well, a mountain of laundry, but that's Dearest's problem. Midwives have forbid me from doing any housework for a week. I'm crushed...really.