Ok, so where to start? I suppose it all started Tuesday, the 28th. By this point I’m 4 days overdue and desperate to go into labor. I’m really not that uncomfortable, moreso just impatient. But also I’m cognizant of the fact that I have a designated return date to work. So, the later I am before giving birth, the less time I have with my baby (outside my belly) before starting back. I had also spent so much time and effort imagining the inconveniences of having her early (while I was still working, potentially disrupting Solomon’s birthday party, the possibility of having her on Solomon’s actual birthday, etc etc), that it really hadn’t occurred to me that I may go past my due date. So each moment was dragging by. Anyway, back to Tuesday. I woke up following a dream that my water had broken. Hollywood style. I was in line in some store and had the dramatic gush of water, plain as day. This possibility was so fascinating to me. One of my biggest regrets (though regret isn’t a perfect word, as it wasn’t in my control) about being induced with Solomon’s labor was that I never had a natural onset of labor. I had no story of my water breaking, timing contractions, etc, and I was deeply curious what my body would have naturally done. So, this dream was fascinating and vivid. But, almost as curious was the fact that the very same night, Gerard had dreamed my water broke! I texted my sister that morning, wondering if it was a sign. After taking Solomon to school, I went about my normal attempting-to-induce-labor day. By this time, I had solidified a routine of walking 2 or 3 miles, climbing stairs, doing squats, eating spicy food, eating pineapple, bouncing on a yoga ball, doing acupressure points, and any other wives tale I could find online. I could definitely work up some contractions, but nothing ever came of it. I wondered if I was even helping things along at all, or just giving myself uncomfortable contractions for no reason whatsoever.
So, all of Tuesday went along with contractions. Braxton Hicks? Early labor? Who knows. Nothing was consistent, nothing was super painful. Just there. I had tried timing them, but they were relatively painless, so after the peak of the contraction, it tapered off significantly, so it was difficult to know when to stop timing. My best guesses were about 45 seconds long, anywhere from 5-10 minutes apart. They were inconsistent enough for me to believe it was false labor. My sister thought otherwise, and teasingly said ‘good luck with that,’ when I told her I was going to bed that night.
I woke up around 3am with contractions that were strong enough to not be able to sleep anymore. They were still varying between 5-7 minutes apart. By about 7:30am I was still afraid that it was false labor, but convinced enough it could be real to start to make accommodations. Gerard took the day off work and drove Solomon to school for me. I spoke with our on-call babysitter, Danielle, to arrange for her to pick Solly up from preschool later that day, and potentially stay the night with him. I had had an acupuncture appointment scheduled for 9 that morning, but canceled it, thinking I wouldn’t need their induction attempts afterall. Once he had dropped off Solly, Gerard and I walked several blocks together. At this point, I could still walk and talk through the contractions, but was getting notably difficult. By 11:30, nothing exciting was happening, and I was starting to feel embarrassed that I had made a big to-do over nothing. Gerard was getting crap at work about taking off that day. Danielle had had to convince the mom in another family she works for to arrange to come home from work early to relieve her in time to pick up Solly. And I was afraid it was all for nothing. At 12:30 I asked Danielle if it was too late to cancel plans in order to save the other mom the inconvenience. But, what was done was done, so we agreed she’d pick Solly up and stay until bedtime anyway, and we’d just consider it a dress rehearsal.
By 2pm I was pretty disappointed. My contractions had slowed down to every ten minutes or so. Sometimes a bit longer. They were just strong enough to not be able to nap through, but I was getting tired. I had a regularly scheduled OB appointment at 2:30 that I kept. Gerard took me there, but I could still walk around and manage without drawing much attention to myself. I told my doctor about my contractions, and she agreed I was probably not yet in true labor, as the contractions were still so inconsistent. I did agree to my first cervical check, however. Thank goodness I got encouraging news! 4cm dialated, 75% effaced, and -2 station. I couldn’t believe I was walking around like a relatively normal person at 4cm dialated- when it took me to hell and back to dialate to 3 on pitocin with Solomon’s labor. Ugh. Another essay in and of itself, but this is long enough already and things haven’t even gotten juicy yet. The nurse made predictions I would go into real labor by that weekend. We made a follow-up appointment the following week just in case.
So, I make Gerard take me out for a late lunch to celebrate that at least something was happening. But I’m also going back and forth on wondering if cancelling my acupuncture appointment was a good idea. I called and they were able to squeeze me in for 4pm. At 3:45 I was still really confused on what to do. I called and spoke with my acupuncturist directly, asking if I should come in or not. Part of me definitely wanted to get a move on things, but the other part of me was holding onto fear of things picking up too strongly, and what that might be like. She told me to come in, and worked on points to both help me relax, but also help regulate the crazy contractions. By the time I left they were 7 minutes apart and more consistent than they had been.
I was exhausted by this point, after almost 2 full days of contractions and only a handful of hours of sleep. Danielle was coming home with Solomon about this time. I worked up enough energy to speak with him about his day at school, and that baby sister may actually, finally be coming that night. He was excited, but also concerned, as he could tell I was starting to get into some pain. I hung out in the bedroom with the lights dimmed while Solomon, Gerard and Danielle ate dinner. I lay down in between contractions, just trying to get a moment’s rest. The second I felt something coming, I jumped up, as I found the sensations of the contractions to be incredibly stronger and more uncomfortable while lying down. I tried a variety of positions, but mostly defaulted to standing up and leaning over on my nightstand, rocking my hips back and forth. By 6:30 or so, things had picked up significantly enough that I was finally 100% sure this was the real deal. Gerard came to check in and I told him very seriously that we should head to the hospital. With our hospital, you need to call ahead before going into Labor and Delivery. 1) So the nurse can attempt to track your progress and assess if you should really come in then, or wait. and 2) to determine if there was room, or if you’d need to go to a less busy Kaiser facility. I was concerned for both of these conditions. I had finally convinced myself this was the real deal, but I was worried a random nurse would see things differently, being as my contractions were still not consistent, and still sometimes up to 7 or 8 minutes apart. I was also afraid my preferred hospital would be full. Despite it being 25 miles away, and nowhere near as nice or new as our local hospital (where I also work), it was definitely where we wanted to be. It’s a much smaller hospital, and presumably able to give more individual attention. But mostly our preference was due to the presence of midwives at the Redwood City location, whereas our local hospital only had OBs. Attempting a natural childbirth, I definitely wanted an accommodating atmosphere accustomed to something that sometimes seems so rare and unheard of these days. Anyway, my worries were unfounded, and by 7pm or so we were walking out the door. I live in a huge complex, and regularly see people I don’t recognize, but this night saw exactly 4 people on the walk to the car- each of whom I knew somewhat. They all appeared rather shocked and concerned, but I managed to convince them I was ok (Gerard was never with me during these encounters. I had started the trek before he had gathered all the bags and could leave the apartment, which is when I passed the first couple. I separately saw the other two as I was walking to a pickup spot after Gerard had veered off to get the car).
The contractions definitely picked up in frequency and intensity during the car ride, but the trip wasn’t as bad as I feared it might be. Luckily it was all highway, so not a lot of stopping or turning or anything crazy. And luckily we weren’t attempting the drive during rush hour, which had been another fear of mine. We get to the hospital drop-off and Gerard and the parking attendant bring by the wheelchair. Perfect. I sit down only to realize there were no foot pedals. For real. The parking guy was just like “It’s ok, it’s ok.” He didn’t seem to realize that at 6 feet tall, my feet were dragging on the floor. And it was way more effortful to use the abdominal strength to lift up my legs to be pushed in this wheelchair than it would to just walk. So, I abandon the wheelchair before we even make it through the doorway of the hospital and I start walking in. We take breaks during contractions, but I’m managing ok. We make it up to Labor and Delivery and they escort us to the best room on the floor- which is also the room I gave birth to Solomon in! I’m feeling positive, but also very very tired. I really want a nap more than anything else at this point. The nurse then begins with the longest set of questions I had ever heard of in my life. They had just started this new protocol the night before. It was really, really ridiculous. I can’t remember if it was before, during, or after the questions, but at some point I was checked and was not quite a 6. My contractions had slowed down from what they had worked up to at the car ride, and weren’t feeling as intense. The nurse seemed confused at my refusal of the IV. She didm’t understand why I’d want to possibly be poked more than once if I need medication or fluid or pitocin or what have you. I tried to convince her that I didn’t want any of that nonsense to begin with, and if for some reason it became absolutely mandatory, multiple brief pokes far outweighed the continued discomfort of a needle in me at all times. She finally relented and stopped bugging me, but insisted I’d still need a blood draw. Whatever. I sat down and allowed her to draw my blood, but after one or two pokes, she said she couldn’t find a vein and that she’d have to send someone from the Lab to come do it. I’m pretty sure this was all just out of spite. We did agree to intermittent (as opposed to continuous) fetal monitoring. She had tried to get me to lie on the bed for this, but was not too resistant when I refused. Everything looked good. My contractions were still 2-5 minutes apart, but thankfully they didn’t seem concerned with this inconsistency.
Anyway, around this time, I really, really, really wanted a nap. The contractions were getting strong and uncomfortable, but mostly I just wanted to sleep. I began fantasizing about how when I received the epidural with Solomon I then just lay in bed and napped peacefully. I stared longingly at that bed, wanting a nap. I was really, really considering an epidural at this point. Not because of the contraction pain. Because I wanted to sleep. I was starting to worry I wouldn’t have any energy to push when the time came. I weighed my options with the midwife, who suggested breaking my waters to get things moving quicker. That way, we could just get the show on the road, be done with it, and then I could sleep. This seemed promising, but again I was afraid. Of what, I’m not entirely sure. But this option scared me. She also said that she should check me, as I might be far enough along where an epidural wouldn’t even be an option, anyway. I agreed, and was a 7. She again suggested to break my water and get things over with. She said if I really, really wanted an epidural, I better say so right now, because by the time everything was said and done, I’d barely be feeling it by the time to push. It seemed rather ridiculous to go through all of this, and let go of my dream of a natural childbirth to only benefit from the pain relief during the pushing phase. But moreso, it was ridiculous because I wasn’t thinking about the pain at this point, I was thinking about my nap! And I couldn’t nap through pushing, epidural or no epidural. About this time the Lab guy finally came to draw my blood. I was so confused by all of these options, and knew I’d need an IV if I did opt for the epidural anyway, and I just said something to the effect of ‘Can you just make him go away?’ The midwife informed me I could just refuse the blood draw. I thought after all this drama it was quite obvious I didn’t want the damn blood draw, so emphatically declined more formally. I’m not sure why it hadn’t occurred to me I could refuse the silly blood draw, after I had already refused the IV and continual monitoring so easily.
That whole ordeal is all kind of blurry, but I eventually was rooted in the fact I did not want to epidural nor the membrane rupture, and I found myself seated on the edge of a chair leaning into Gerard through some very strong contractions. At some point it occurred to me that I should use the TENS unit I had rented to help with pain management. Gerard set this up, and placebo effect or not, I felt some relief and control by being able to turn up the strength of the TENS with each contraction. I was able to talk a little bit in between contractions, but when I felt one coming on, I resigned to a wave or hit or groan or something to signal to Gerard to lean forward more and allow me to collapse into him. The nurse, whom I’d found extremely annoying throughout the process, kept popping in the put the heartrate monitor on my belly. I kinda felt that she could hear the heartrate for a couple seconds and should be done, but each time she stayed on for what I interpreted as an excessive amount of time. Keep in mind, I’m totally falling into Gerard during these contractions, so she’s all up in our business to hold the monitor up to me. I remember Gerard kept saying he could just hold it there, and her being perplexed why he’d want to do that.
At this point, during contractions my mind was solely focused on visualizations encouraged by the Bradley Method (we didn’t do a birthing class this time around, just read this book). I was definitely moaning, but didn’t feel out of control or overwhelmed. In between contractions, however, I was back to fearing the pushing stage. I kept wondering if I’d really recognize the ‘urge to push’ that everyone talks about. And wondering where I was going to come up with the energy to actually finish the job. Another contraction came, and I kind of jumped out of my chair with discomfort. I thought I was feeling the urge to push, but wasn’t sure. The next contraction, I knew I had the urge to push, but was really afraid to admit it because I really didn’t want to push. The next contraction I shouted ‘I gotta push!’ and Gerard yelled out ‘We’re ready!’ to everyone in the hallway (we were by ourselves, but the door was open, just a privacy curtain in the doorway.
The midwife asked me what position I wanted to get in. My decision making skills weren’t really up to par at this point, so she started giving me some options. I kind of contorted into my own weird half side-lying, half squatting position and we started the fun part. This is when I started feeling like I was going to die. Really and truly wanted to whole thing over. I don’t know how people say they push for like 2 hours or more. There’s no way I could have done that. During this part, I mostly only remember bits and pieces. Like photographic stills I’m trying to sequence together to form a story. I remember wanting to die. And screaming. And the midwife saying she could see the head. And holding onto Gerard’s hand for dear life. And the midwife taking away Gerard’s hand to help deliver Theodora and I again thought I would die all over again without Gerard’s hand for support. And then, finally, the relief of actually pushing her out. The midwife told me later she was in some weird position (I don’t remember exactly now. That her fist was by her chin?) that usually lengthens the pushing time. She also suspected I would have tore because of this position. Nope. And I’m glad as hell I didn’t know that it should have been even harder at the time. It was already the longest ten minutes of my life, and had I felt any pessimism on the difficulty or length it should be, I just don’t know what I would have done. Anyway, she finally finally came out right before midnight and was perfect in every way. She was given directly to me for skin-to-skin, and Gerard and I fawned over her for several minutes before he cut her cord or wiped her off at all. I then held and nursed her for probably an hour or so before anyone attempted to weigh her or anything. It was beautiful. And exactly what I wanted. I even forgot a bit about my desperation for sleep. Not entirely. But a bit.
I can’t help but to compare Thea’s birth with Solomon’s. With Solomon, despite the fact I did get that elusive nap, and I avoided those awful pushing moments, I had to deal with fear the entire time. With Theodora, I feared my own pain. Which was nothing in comparison to the fear I had after being induced with Solomon- for the potential onset of further interventions, the possibility of a C-section, the health of my baby. With Solomon, toward the end I was having the Oxygen mask thrown on me. The OB was staring at the monitor. They were calling for a pediatrician. I had no idea what was going on. I felt powerless, with no control. And I was terrified of Solomon’s safety. This was all far worse than any pain I felt with Theodora. Not to mention the fact that Solomon’s pitocin contractions were extremely painful, whereas Theodora’s felt… strong. But not necessarily super painful. The pain definitely kicked in for pushing, no doubt. But those ten minutes can’t overpower everything else good about her labor and delivery, or everything scary about Solomon’s. I never felt out of control with Thea’s labor. I could make decisions and do what I felt was best. After Solomon’s birth, I had disappointment. After Thea’s, only strength. I did what I felt my body should do, as a woman, and never again have to wonder what it would have been like, or if I could have done it. I worried about bonding with Solomon, for fear the epidural would have effected one or both of us. I worried about bonding with Thea, wondering how could I really love another like I did with Solly. Graciously, both fears were unfounded, and I was graced with two incredibly healthy, beautiful children who I instantly loved unconditionally from the moment I saw each of them, despite their drastically different paths to get here.
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Understandably, people have been asking about Theodora’s name. Theodora, being of Greek origin, plays into Gerard’s fascination with Greek mythology, but also pays a bit of tribute to the role Gerard’s trip to Greece played in our early relationship. In my eyes, that trip, and events following and related to that trip, helped me see the side of Gerard, and our mutual investment in the relationship, that helped me know this was for the long haul. Theodora also means ‘God’s gift,’ which perfectly summarizes our feelings about this little girl, after a year and a half of infertility and early miscarriages. We were waiting for her, and she is worth it. She is our light at the end of a very long tunnel. Interestingly though, had Thea arrived on time, she would not have been Theodora at all. Although it was always my favorite name, Gerard had nixed it, in favor of Althea, or simply Thea. We had strongly considered these possibilities, but had actually settled on Leona for weeks preceding her due date. 2 days overdue, completely out of the blue Gerard said he wanted Theodora. And it was done.Lark, her middle name, plays obvious harmony to Solomon’s simple, but slightly eccentric one-syllable animal middle name, Wolf. It pays tribute to the outdoors and animals, both of which I value deeply. But it was the following description of this bird that rooted it in firm contention of needing to be part of my daughter’s name:
Larks are known for their melodious singing. They also sing while they are flying, unlike most other birds, who only sing when perched. This indicates cheerfulness and reminds us to find joy in our own lives. Larks are also very good mimics of other birds’ songs. Perhaps this tunefulness is the reason that larks are messengers in religion and mythology. In Lakota/Dakota myth, larks were the messengers of the god Itokaga (Okaga). Itokaga was the representation of the south wind. South is the direction of the sun and the bringer of warmth, light, and life. Therefore the meadowlark is associated with all of these things, in addition to women’s medicine, which encompasses beauty, fidelity, happy marriage, and fertility. Seeing a meadowlark is good news for the viewer, because the lark brings abundance and impending harvest.
Larks have a crescent shape across their breasts. The crescent shape often signifies lunar qualities, and the moon is often linked with the concept of self. Therefore the lark reflects the inward journey that’s often associated with self-discovery. This goes hand in hand with their singing, something that, for humans, is often considered a private activity and a deep reflection of inner self. Lark encourages us to explore our inner selves and sing out loud.
All of these aspects- cheerfulness, fertility, impending good news, self-reflection- are values and ideals I would love to instill Thea with. They reflect where we’ve been, where we’re going, and what we see in our future.
