If I had to associate one word with Tom's pregnancy, it would be guilt. And fear. And exhaustion. So, three words. Just being honest for the sake of truth in journalism. In hindsight, I'm pretty sure I must have had antepartum depression. Oh, I'm going to add the word "despair." And also "craziness" because I was definitely intermiddently crazy. So, we're up to five words to describe the pregnancy: guilt, fear, exhaustion, despair, and craziness. As this paragraph indicates, this pregnancy was not a fun or uplifting experience for anyone involved. But, at this point I'm going to fastforward to the end for a bit and say that the moment I pushed out the placenta, I raised my fist up over my head like a champion boxer and yelled, "It's over! I did it!" and since that moment I have been back to myself, which is really quite miraculous.
At this point, you're probably thinking, 'Holly! That doesn't sound like you! What were you so upset about?" Well, I couldn't really tell you at this point. Maybe I couldn't have even told you then. The thing that sticks out in my mind most is that I believe that a baby in utero feels what the mother feels, so I felt so guilt about feeling so awful all the time and that I was programming the baby to feel sad and crazy. Also, I was afraid that the baby wouldn't feel wanted and that I was programming his precious little baby mind to feel like he wasn't wanted. I was worried he wouldn't be bonded to me. Again, for the sake of honesty (and since it won't be a surprise to anyone who I spoke to during that time), I was really struggling with Matt and I being on such different pages regarding his career and if he was going to use his degree. It was a haaaaaard time for me.
I'm also going to add here that the reason I didn't think I was depressed at the time was because I also had moments of bliss very regularly. I was like, "depressed people can't even feel happy, right?" I guess I still don't know the answer to that, and I'm not really into labels anyways, so let's just move forward with the story.
Long story short: I survived the first 36 weeks of my pregnancy. Even managed a super fun trip to California at week 34.
(all three kids at the beach)
Just as a little "slice of history" here are a few journal excerpt from this period:
6/25/17 " A lady at church asked me if I was in labor. I said, 'I don't think so'"
6/17/17 "As I was rushing to clean [a spilled tincture], my pelvis/groin started hurting so bad I could hardly walk. That lasted all day"
7/1/17 "I made breakfast and it wore me out so much I had to lie down afterward. I fell asleep and woke up in time to give the kids a bath, but Matt had to do it because I waas too tired."
7/1/17 "I don't remember the end of pregnancy being so hard before."
7/7/17 Ivar threw up at Red Robin after his birthday dinner there. (Just FYI)
7/11/17 "Horrible weeping and wailing and emotional breakdown this morning"
At my 36 week check up the midwife said the baby was in a great position and already engaged. She is a wise and experienced midwife and I know she didn't want to get my hopes up, but she did finally confess that she thought the baby might be ready to come anytime. In fact, she said this baby seemed more ready to be born then either of the overdue babies she was taking care of. I also tried not to get my hopes up, but that did shift me into "any day now" thinking. Luckily, after a few days of that, the Spirit told me that my second baby was five days overdue and my third baby would be at least that far overdue, so not to even plan on it until five days after the due date. Which I tried to do, but, of course, hope still popped up every now and then.
At 38 weeks, I had an hour and a half of weak but steady and constant contractions at 2am. Remembering that my last labor only last 51 minutes, and not wanting to get caught off guard again, I called the midwife and together we decided to get the birthing tub ready, just in case, and then try to go to sleep and see what happened. I woke up Matt and we set up the tub and we all went right to sleep and nothing happened. The midwife had to come the next day with her special pump to empty the tub.
The due date came and went. The five-days-after-the-due-date goal came and went.
To understand the next part of the story, I need to explain that for the last 3.5 months of the pregnancy I had a very bad yeast and bacterial infection that no rememdy (prescription or hippy dippy) helped in the least. I tried everything. Nothing helped. A hippy dippy friend told me that if the holistic rememdies weren't helping, then it must have an emotional cause that needed to be addressed. I looked it up in my book and the underlying emotional cause for yeast infections is "Denying your own needs. Not supporting yourself." Yep, that sounds accurate.
Then, six days after my due date, I got chills twice. (you know, like "fever and chills" but without the fever) To me, it didn't seem like a big deal, but I decided to tell my midwife out of an abundance of caution. She actually DID think it was a big deal. Her concern was that the infection might have spread up to my uterus, and if that was the case it was a big deal and straight to the hospital for me.
Obviously, as a home birther, the hospital option was not my ideal. But, at this point, I was caring less than usual. And, obviously, I saw the danger of a uterine infection, if that's what it was. This being my third birth, I was feeling pretty prepared and confident, but the idea of possibly going to the hospital really threw me for a loop. How does one prepare for that? The only thing I could think of was packing a hospital bag. So I went to Pinterest and researched that, and it was completely overwhelming. Luckily, before I packed my bag I went for a check up with my midwife and we decided that we could wait a bit since everything looked fine and I didn't have a fever and had only had two little chills. I just had to take my temperature all the time and being super mindful of other possible symptoms.
The next morning I woke up and said to myself (as I had every morning for the last five weeks): "Well, I didn't have a baby in the night, so I guess not today." I realized, logically, that some babies are born during the day, but somehow I still felt like once the morning came, your chance for the day was over. (I shared this with my midwife and she said that after more than thirty years of delivering babies, she actually still finds herself thinking the same thing every morning.)
At four o'clock that afternoon, Matt and I were lying in bed watching TV. I was pondering on how my uterus hurt even more than usual (which was really saying something), when I rolled over in such a way that made it hurt even more. It was pretty intense. Then I felt and heard a "pop" in my abdomen. It was like a rubber band snapping. A very odd sensation. It surprised me so much that I said something like "Woah!" and Matt asked what had happened. I said, "It seems like maybe my water broke, except for there's no wa..... there it is."
I quick like a bunny got up and got into the shower to try to assess the deluge. I told Matt to fill up the tub. (Luckily, due to our false alarm a few weeks earlier, the tub was not only aired up, but the liner was in and all the plumbing stuff was already in the bathroom. So he got it ready super quick, which turned out to be a very good thing.)
Then I sat on the toilet and started calling people. I called the midwife first. Someone who I didn't know answered her cellphone (turns out it was her brand new student) so I left a message. I texted my co-leader for Activity Day Girls (it's like cub scouts for Mormon girls) and told her my water had broke, so I couldn't go to the activity that evening. Then I called Pat (my mother-in-law who lives right next door) and told her "Thundercats are go" and that the kids would be over shortly. Then, serendipitiously, my wonderful friend Jamie called me. She said I'd been on her mind all day and she had a thought she wanted to share. She said that she thinks Satan was trying to make me fearful (because my pattern up to that point had been lose pregnancy, have a baby, lose a pregnancy, have a baby, so if we kept this pattern something was bound to happen to this baby). She said it was Satan making me afraid and I should trust Jesus. I thought that was beautiful and true, and the timing was perfect. We only talked like 90 seconds, but it was lovely and perfect.
The tub was filling with water, and I told Matt to put the plastic sheet protector and clean sheet on the bed because I wanted to lay down for a few contractions. Things were getting intense and I wasn't comfortable in the bathroom anymore, but wasn't ready to get in the tub.
Melissa the midwife called back while I was in bed. I found out later that she had been doing a get-to-know you meeting a potential client, so she'd left her cell phone with her student Ashley. When they came out (but the couple was still there) she asked Ashley who had called. "It was Holly Harker. She wanted you to know that her water has broken, and she'll keep you updated." Melissa responded, "HOLLY HARKER?!?! THAT'S THE 50 MINUTE LADY. WE'VE GOTTA GOOOOOO!!" They quickly said their goodbyes to the new couple, locked up the office, got in the midwifemobile, and decided to head out ("head out" get it? because she was coming to deliver a baby?!). And luckily her office is only like ten minutes away. At this point, I will add that I totally did not expect another 50 minute delivery, but wise, experience Melissa knew.
I didn't last very long on the bed and got into the birthing tub after like three contractions, which was probably like three minutes. By the time Matt got back from dropping off the kids (which probably took about 90 seconds), I was far enough along that he I think he sort of started to panic (but just a bit). Luckily, for the second time in a row, my hero of a husband reminded me to do low moaning to get through the pain. This blessed technique is a real life saver to me. He asked me if Melissa was on her way and I thought that I had clearly communicated "yes" via nodding, but I learned later that he hadn't picked that up and so he called Melissa. I don't know what they were talking about, but I remember yelling out, "tell her they're double peaking" so she would know that things were progressing faster than I was expecting when we spoke on the phone. I remember her asking if we wanted her to stay on the line, but I was like, "no, just get here as quick as you can."
They got there pretty quick and it's a blurr for a bit. I remember Ashley walked in and I told her she was in charge of videoing the birth. And I feel like I was calm, so maybe transition was over at this point? I don't know. I remember Melissa was going to do a cervical check and she told me I needed to move and I though "really? you can't just walk over to the other side of the tub were my bottom is?" but what she meant was I needed to flip over to be belly up in order for her to check. I remember reaching down to feel the baby's head and telling Melissa that something was in the way (I was thinking maybe some cervical lip) but she said there wasn't anything and we were all clear. I remember telling them I was going to push out a poop and then I few minutes later, I was like, "why is this poop so hard to get out?!!!" and someone told me the poop had already come out and I was working on the baby now.
Now this is where my memory clears up again. I heard Matt say, "We are recording" and I said, "Oh, I don't think we're quite ready for that yet." (we have a five second video of that exchange) and then I heard the midwife quietly tell someone, "Yes, we ARE ready for that now." By the time the next video started, the head was already out. And because of the videos, I can tell you the baby was in my arms four minutes after I said that it wasn't quite time to start filming.
Come to find out, the thing I thought was some cervical lip was actually the ambilical cord. That could have been an obstetric emergency, but luckily he head was never positioned in a way that cut off the circulation. And luckily he was born super quick.
I told Melissa during a follow-up appointment, "It seems like one fifty-minute delivery is a fluke, but two is a pattern." She said that was about right. And the crazy thing is, some babies will be born that quickly is they're in the perfect position, but both of my boys were not only in subpar positions, each of them had his hand up by his face when he was born. So, for we to give birth so quickly twice under such circumstances is really quite something.
But, back to the birth. Out came this beautiful, skinny, vernix-y baby with a full head of dark hair, just like his daddy. He started nursing right away, and knowing what I know now, I could tell immediately that he was tongue-tied. (the midwife took a little snip off before she left and we got it all the way fixed on his third day of life). We moved tothe bed and started working on delivering the placenta (which in some ways is worse than delivering the baby). I knew that if I stood up and squatted during a contraction, it would come right out. But, he was nursing and I didn't want to interupt him (especially due to my fear mentioned above that he wouldn't feel bonded to me). Eventually he finished nursing, and Dad took the baby and I had a contradaction and stood up by the side of my bed where the midwives had prepared a little area and I pushed out the placenta. And seriously, in that moment, I felt the weight of the world come off of my shoulders "It's finished! I did it!!!" Oh my gosh, I was so happy.
With one thing and the other, it was 9:00 before the midwives left and the kids came over with Grandma and Grandpa to see the baby.
(this photo is actually from a few days later)
The next day was delightful. This was my first baby where Matt didn't have to start going to classes and working on homework the very day that the baby was born. I got spoiled all day long and just sat in bed with the baby. I don't think I left our master suite all day. The kids came once to visit, and then went home with Grandma.
The next day was appointment day. Melissa came for a follow-up at noon. We went to see the pediatrican at 2:00 and then to see the pediatric dentist to fix the tongue tie. Tom and I were both worn out, but Matt took good care of us.
Tom, we are so glad you were born!!!!
