The Birth Story

Well, here it is.  Exactly one month later.  Apologies for not updating sooner but I'm guessing most of you who follow me on here heard the news that my baby was, in fact, born.  And he's lovely.  And actually, you know what, I take back my apologies for not updating, I have been falling madly in love with my little Cash and had no time for anything else :)  Enjoy.  A special thank you to Lindsay and Tanya, my attending midwives from the Minnesota Birth Center, Angela, my amazing doula, Lisa, our dear friend and photographer, and all of our friends and family who supported our birth from near and far.

The Birth Story

I am a psychotherapist.  This means two things:  1) People inevitably ask me about their brother/sister/husband/Rabbi who is having relationship problems and want my opinion and 2) I psychoanalyze myself…a lot.  Childbirth was the first thing in my life that I could not think my way through.  In fact, during our Blooma Educators childbirth class, I remember them saying one thing that stuck with me, “There’s only room for one head in your pelvis, your baby’s”.  I latched on (Get it? Breastfeeding joke!) and even used this anecdote during some of my client sessions to try to help others overcome the fear of childbirth.  Little did I know that keeping my own head out of my pelvis during birth would be an incredibly challenging and life-changing task.

Dan and I attended a wedding of a dear friend on Saturday night, August 10^th.  As we were driving, I had a slight intuition that this would be our last date night as a duo, though a big part of me remained confident that we would get to use our gift card at the St. Paul grill on Sunday morning for their delicious brunch (seriously, it’s good).  We did get to stop at Sonic for tots and a malt before the wedding so that made me happy too.  We had a good time at the wedding but towards the end of the dinner, I just could not get comfortable in my chair, walking around, or anywhere else for that matter.  We decided to call it a night.

Here it is, the very last photo of pre-labor Carise.  No, I didn't drink Hennessey....though maybe I would have if I knew what was coming that night.

We got home and got ready to go to sleep.  The discomfort continued while I was lying in bed.  It seemed that all of my “go to” sleeping positions were failing me.  Leg over 12 pillows and lying on my side…rush of pain.  Child’s pose with pillows propped under my chest…rush of pain.  Sitting up in bed and bingeing on Tums…rush of pain and didn’t touch the heartburn.  Refusing to think I was having actual contractions, I decided to “try out” my contraction counter app (you know, for when I was going into actual labor).  You will notice a theme of disbelief throughout this story and this was the beginning. 

Dan began to notice my discomfort and unusual amount of wiggling, even for a full term pregnant lady.  I told him that I was having some pain rushes but it would probably go away if I could just fall asleep.  He popped out of bed like a hot kernel and started doing household chores and packing a birth center bag.  I continued to try to get comfortable and was mildly annoyed that Dan was getting his hopes up.  I was sure we would both be disappointed and we would chalk this up to one of the many “fake labor” experiences that everyone is supposed to have.

Well, as you may have figured out the “pain rushes” were actual contractions and they did not stop.  I sent a text to Angela, our doula, at some point in the wee hours of Saturday night to let her know what I was feeling.  I made sure to let her know that I thought this wasn’t anything significant (denial) but within the same text I mentioned that the contractions kept waking me up and that they were consistently 5-6 minutes apart.  I tentatively informed our friend Lisa, who would be photographing our birth, that she might want to clear her schedule for Sunday afternoon if this kept up.

It kept up.  Sunday was pretty much a blur.  I was tired.  We were both tired.  Our last solid sleep was Friday night and had I known that I would have slept for 16 hours.  We did everything people who labor at home are told to do.  We walked outside, I got in the bathtub, we watched movies, Dan did house chores.  It became very important that he vacuum the dog hair since I was rolling around on the floor during contractions.  I was instructed by Angela to try and get some sleep at some point.  The problem was, my contractions were as frequent and regular as reggae beat and relentlessly dedicated to keeping me awake. 

By 5pm on Sunday evening we were frustrated and tired and decided it was time for Angela to come over and help us out.  In my head, she was going to come tell me how to stop my fake labor (denial) and give Dan a much-needed break from being my only shoulder to hang on.  She showed up and began what I like to call “doula boot camp”.  I told her I either wanted the contractions to stop or hurry the hell up and get on with life.  Before I knew it, I was taking stairs two-at-a-time, squatting next to my baby’s crib, lunging sideways in the stairwell, and pushing my energy to the limit.  But this was nowhere near the limit.  The limit was still to come.

At about 7pm, Lisa showed up with her camera.  Lisa photographed our wedding three years ago, my brother’s wedding, my mom’s 50^th birthday celebration, my headshots when I opened my own business, my maternity photos a few weeks earlier…she has seen the most important moments of my life through the camera lens and supported us through it all.  When she walked in, the small part of me that believed this was real labor got a little bigger and with it came a rush of emotions.  I sobbed on Dan’s shoulder, realizing what I was expected to do and doubting whether I was ready or what it would do to our relationship.  After that emotional release, I felt ready and willing to take it to the next level.

At 9:30 we headed to the Minnesota Birth Center where Tanya and Lindsay, our midwives, would be waiting for us.  I had two contractions while driving on Chicago Avenue towards the birth center and Dan yelled at a jaywalker.  Who can jay walk at a time like this?  In my head, I thought I needed to be much more in labor than I was in order for the midwives to take me seriously so I (shamefully) embellished some of my first contractions at the birth center so they wouldn’t send me home…I really wanted to use their tub. 

With the lights dim, candles burning, my playlist playing, I settled into the marvelous birthing tub.  I labored for hours and grew more and more exhausted with each contraction.  The nagging thoughts began.  Will I have the energy to do this?  I haven’t slept since Friday night and now I’m expected to birth a child…how the hell am I going to do it?  What if my body gives up?  Will I end up at the hospital?

At some point into active labor, I was told that I was dilating within the normal curve of progression but on the lower end of normal.  I was unaware of how many centimeters I was.  I did not want any numbers in my labor experience since numbers are what drove me crazy during my pregnancy…which is a whole ‘nuther story.  The midwives asked if I would agree to them breaking my waters.  This came as a relief.  At least SOMETHING was changing. They warned me that the rhythm of labor would intensify which, although the nagging thoughts were questioning if I could do it, felt like assurance to me that it would be over soon.

Intensify is a mild term for what happened.  And I don’t mean intensify just in a physical sense of the word.  My emotions, my nagging thoughts, my self-doubt, my fears, my need for my husband, my fear about whether my baby would be healthy…everything was magnified.  The height of the physical intensity occurred when we realized baby was hanging out posterior and we needed a solution.  Angela and the midwives discussed what would work best and after some healthy debate, the solution would be to lay me on the bed in a spinal twist to endure three contractions.  The first attempt at this ended with me springing to my hands and knees and insisting that there was no way I could endure the pain.  The midwives firmly informed me that this was necessary and proceeded to hold my legs down.  I instructed Dan to kneel on the floor next to the bed and not break eye contact.  I let out my animal noises at point blank range next to my husband and he remained steady through the intensity.  It wasn’t until after the birth that I was grateful for this moment since many birth teams may have suggested interventions rather than a little “tough love” J.

I got in the tub for what would be the last time before welcoming our baby into the world.  I didn’t know this at the time and if I would have known that Cash was coming soon, I may have felt better.  I felt utterly hopeless.  I still didn’t believe this was real and more importantly, felt powerless against my fatigue.  It just didn’t make sense how I was going to get through.  I mentioned this over and over.  I asked the team how I was going to do this and they said “one contraction at a time”.  Coincidentally, during each contraction I would express that I couldn’t do it, only to be reminded that I WAS doing it.

Right before I started pushing I disappeared to somewhere else.  I fixated on a spot on the wall and took mini naps in between contractions.  I had no energy to speak or interact with my team and heard myself making noises that I didn’t know could come from a human.  I briefly noticed that everyone in the room was sitting and watching me, looking very tired.  This was frustrating since I thought I was wasting their time and would not actually be giving birth (SERIOUS denial), but in reality, everyone else in the room trusted my body besides me.  They knew I was doing what I needed and all it would take was a little more patience. 

With wisdom and confidence, Tanya then instructed me to keep from expelling all of my air and to direct it downwards towards my pelvis during each contraction.  It was time to push.  Angela looked me in the eye and said “Cash is coming, it’s time”. 

Pushing was an amazing experience.  I distinctly remember the moment where the team told me to reach down and feel my baby’s head starting to emerge.  Dan recalls that my energy shifted from exhaustion to determination at this point.  I felt baby’s hair, and lots of it!  Lisa recalled that she noticed nurses coming in with different equipment for the baby and got excited along with us.  With each pushing contraction my voice got a little more hoarse and my body more and more exhausted but my spirit was alive.  I knew I would be crowning soon and after being instructed to not push during crowning (SO difficult!), the next thing I knew I was being told to reach down and pull my baby out of the water. 

Cash Michael Beard was born at 5:25am on August 12^th, 30 hours after the first contractions started.  As I pulled him onto my chest, he wrapped his arms around my breasts, he knew who mama was!  I was elated.  Immediately the pain and exhaustion of the past two days of labor were a distant memory.  I had my son.  I sat in the tub with him on my chest for a number of blissful minutes while the whole room expressed their awe over his hair and his size!  He weighed in at a hefty 10.2lbs and I felt even more like a super human for doing it all naturally.

Dan got his chance to hold Cash while I was working on getting the placenta out and getting cleaned and sewed up (while it may be TMI, apparently only 2 stitches for a 10lb baby is pretty good…I guess there WAS some wisdom to not pushing during crowning right away).  I didn’t care what was going on down there.  I had birthed my son and felt on top of the world. 

The next few hours were some of the most sacred of my life.  We nestled into the birthing suite with our new little one while the wonderful staff at the birth center cared for us, made me bread, fixed an herbal bath for Cash and myself, and celebrated our new life with us.  Though I intend to dedicate an entire separate post to this, I will never stop singing praises of how wonderful the experience at the Minnesota Birth Center was for our family.  At no point did they show anything but unwavering confidence in me as I labored.  Initially there was some attention being paid to Cash’s glucose levels and heightened respirations because of his size and instead of approaching this from a place of fear, the nurses and staff monitored him with care, instructed me to be peaceful and keep him on my chest, and explained everything to us in a calm, rational manner.  I trusted them completely the whole time.  When my family came to meet their newest family member, the staff shared in their excitement and made the space safe and joyous for all of us. 

The weeks since have brought equal amounts of joy and challenge.  As I am navigating the world as a mama, I find myself daydreaming often about my birth experience and how I had to completely let go of the “rationale” of it all and let my body do what it was made to do.  The moment I realized I couldn’t think my way through labor was both the scariest and most rewarding moment of my life.  I was dipping into reserves of strength and confidence that I had been unaware of up until this point.  The lasting memories of labor are not of the pain or discomfort, but of the moment I pulled Cash out of the water and onto my body and the overwhelming bliss that accompanied.  In the middle of the night when my mind and body are weary yet my child demands my energy, I replay the birth and feel the joy once again.  While driving in the car with Cash, I play the birth playlist and believe that it brings both of us comfort.  Never again will I think I am incapable of something.  Never again will I believe that my body is weak and insufficient.  And I will never forget the feeling of love I had for my child from the moment I first felt his soft head against my cheek.

Happy One Month my gorgeous little human....