I am a little unsure as to where to really start with Aidan's birth story, because I believe I was in labor for several weeks!

I chose my midwife through the recommendation of a friend, and though I spoke to her on the phone several times, I didn't actually have my first prenatal appointment until around 14 weeks into my pregnancy. Since I was still nursing my firstborn, I had only had my period back for six weeks before I got pregnant, and so I was unsure as to when I ovulated. We guessed according to my LMP, though, which gave me the due date of November 13. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that November 2 was more accurate. In the end, that made waiting that much more intense, especially when my LMP due date came and went.

I had contractions -- real ones -- irregularly for weeks, though there was never anything worth timing. I'd have about one an hour, and often times less, but they were usually not very painful. At around 38 weeks (November 6), I began losing quite a bit of mucus; so much so, I thought that I had lost my plug and was certain labor was imminent, or at least coming soon. I also had quite a bit of menstrual-type cramping and very loose bowels, but the weekend came and went, and I was still very pregnant. I wasn't unhappy to be so, though... not quite yet.

Then Saturday, the 19th, I definitely lost my mucus plug; I definitely had loose bowels. I thought for sure this was it, seeing as how my due date was the 13th. But, no dice again. I was now starting to get really frustrated with being pregnant and waiting and waiting for my body to do its thing. I was beginning to wonder if I *could* go fully into labor on my own, even though I was so convinced that pregnancy and delivery was such a natural thing to be left to its own design. But still I waited -- what else was there to do?

Then Thanksgiving came, and a real depression hit me that morning. We had assumed that we would have a newborn to take care of on Thanksgiving, so we declined family invitations. My husband had to work that day, as well. If Aidan had been here like we had planned, Alan would have his FMLA leave, and we'd spend the holiday together with our new family addition. So when I woke up that morning STILL pregnant eleven days past my due date, I was pouty. I couldn't go spend the holiday with my mom because she went out of town to see family who had traveled up from Texas. I seriously contemplated going, though, but I knew that I'd probably go into labor as soon as I was more than 100 miles away.

I quickly got over myself and decided that I would learn to make home made pie crust and make us a pie or two. And the more I thought, the more creative I got. Since it was the end of the month and I also was no longer working, money was non-existent and the pantry was thin. But I called Alan at work and told him what the dinner menu would be: Chicken breasts with sage and thyme gravy, home made cornbread dressing, green beans, pumpkin streusel pie and a pecan pie. I couldn't believe I had nearly everything needed to make such a feast, and what I didn't have I could improvise. I began cooking around 11:00 a.m.

It wasn't that much food to prepare, but learning to make a pie crust from an old, old cookbook took some time. Our two-year-old was pretty good that day, and my mood improved greatly by the time Alan got home from work around 3:00.

I was finishing up cooking supper when the first MAJOR contraction hit, and that was at 5:30. It was different from the others I had been experiencing in that it literally put me on the floor in the kitchen. Alan found me there on my hands and knees and asked what was going on. I told him it was just a contraction and that I hadn't been having any all day, so no worries. I told a friend online about it, and she commented that it might be the night for a baby. I said I wasn't getting my hopes up... again.

I had a few mild contractions here and there and a couple of big ones. They were totally irregular and were not building in intensity. By 9:00 p.m., I decided to call my midwife and let her know that I had been having a few more contractions, just to give her the heads up that I may be calling her later that night. She wanted to go ahead and come out and crash on the couch just to be there if and when things did pick up. She does live about 100 miles away, but I felt silly because I just didn't have any symptoms of this being for real -- No bloody show; no loose bowels; no regular, time-able contractions, nothing building in intensity. Just a few painful contractions and a few not so painful ones spread out over the course of three or four hours. I told her not to come, that I didn't think this was it. She asked me to call her back in an hour and give her an update before I went to bed.

In that hour, my husband and I got roped into a heated discussion with my mother-in-law about all kinds of hot-button topics, starting with circumcision. I had a total of two mild contractions during that time, so I called Dotti, my midwife, back and told her just that. She reluctantly agreed not to come out, but made me promise to call her if anything changed.

The conversation with my mother-in-law lasted until MIDNIGHT! Luckily, my husband manned the call from 10:00 p.m. on, but it was still stressful, and I had one contraction near midnight. However, after we got off of the phone, I started having some doozies. I started writing down the contractions and noting whether they were tough or not, and from midnight to one, I had eight or ten, with three big ones. I didn't know whether to call Dotti or not because they were still irregular. She had always told me to call her if they were even ten minutes apart, but evenly spaced, so I just didn't know. I was debating whether to call or not with my husband, and I had another MAJOR contraction that made me drop to my hands and knees immediately. Alan told me that I'd better call her.

So a little after 1:00 a.m., I gave my midwife, Dotti, a call. I read to her the timing of the last hour's contractions, and I told her how many *big* ones I had had (four). Although there was no pattern yet, she immediately told me that she was on her way. In fact, she just knew that tonight was the night and had been sleeping uneasily ever since I called her at 10:00 and told her not to come. She had just sat bolt upright in her bed and thought of me right before the phone rang. Talk about intuition, huh?

So I talked to her and answered her questions -- no bloody show, no ruptured membranes, no urge to push or have a BM. She still felt it would be necessary to get out here quickly. She had to wait for her assistant, but told me she was giving her 15 minutes to meet her, otherwise she'd have to drive herself.

I then called my mom around 1:30 and told her just what I had told Dotti, but still told her that I thought it would be a while. My contractions, though some were pretty painful, were still completely manageable. I didn't have to make noise through them, just sit back and breathe. I told mom she was welcome to come over, but I understood if she wanted to wait until things picked up a bit. She decided to head out; she was home alone, anyway, with my sister and step-dad still in Kansas.

Dotti had told me not to get into the pool until she got here, but I was dying for a shower. I wanted to be clean and fresh, and refreshed since I had gotten no sleep. I told Alan what I wanted to do, and he thought it would be a good idea, but I decided to run it by Dotti just in case. She told me absolutely not! She didn't tell me then, but after the delivery, she told me that the warm water and standing would have probably relaxed me just enough to start the pushing part of labor, all before she even left Colorado Springs! Probably not a good idea if I'm not comfortable catching my own baby.

So Alan jumped in the shower (after calling in to work), and what do you know? Zela woke up. I waited a few minutes, but the energy in the house must have been high enough where she couldn't relax. So I went in to try to rock her, but she wouldn't go for that. I didn't think I should nurse her, since nursing tended to bring on harder contractions, but she was insistent and I wanted her to go back to bed. So I tried nursing her, and a HUGE contraction hit me, and I had to ask her to let go. During the contraction, I couldn't sit still or be quiet, and that frightened Zela a bit. So I hollered for Alan to come and get her NOW! He came in pretty quickly and scooped her up. She cried for me for a little while, but it was quiet in her room pretty quickly.

I retreated to the upstairs living room couch to lie on my left side and try to relax some. My mom got there around 2:00, and I had her start writing my contractions down again. And within about 10 minutes of my mom being there with me, Zela came running down the hall calling, "Momma? Grandma!!" And my 21-month-old was wide awake and suddenly the entertainer. It was nice to have some comic relief, though.

Mom had been timing my contractions, and they were about six minutes apart, regularly, starting right around 2:00. Right around 2:30, I had to start moaning my way through the contractions, and they were now two minutes apart. I was saying at the end of the contractions, "I hope Dotti hurries," or, "I hope she gets here soon." I could tell that my mom was a bit nervous, too, hoping for the same thing. Alan was keeping himself busy, but I'm not real sure what exactly he was doing. I was still waiting for contractions and labor, in general, to get worse. I was ready to hit transition any minute now. I really wanted Dotti there for when the tough times rolled on around.

Dotti walked in just before 3:00 a.m., with her assistant right behind her. They got busy carrying supplies and such in, and went right to work getting set up. Dotti talked to my mom about the contractions, asked me how I was feeling, and watched for the emotional signposts. Alan helped them round up a few last minute things, all the while I was oooohing and aaahhhing (concentrated moaning, really) through contractions. I was still smiling, chuckling, and talking in between them, though, so I figured I still had a long night/morning ahead of me.

Dotti wanted to check me before letting me get in the pool, and I agreed. So we all went downstairs, and Dotti had some Chux laid out on the couch. I undressed the bottom part of me and Dotti found that I was complete.

So I was a full 10 cm dilated around 3:00 a.m., and who knows how long I had been that way. I was honestly very surprised. I was expecting 7, maaaaybe 8 cm, but not 10! So I got into the pool, wondering how long until the pushing sensation would hit me. I was honestly a little afraid of pushing, and I let Dotti know.

She told me that the fear was normal, but that the pushing part, though the most intense, was the fastest part of labor, too. It would be over soon, I'd be holding my little boy, and forget all about it. So I just got back to business of concentrating my way through my contractions. I was in a modified squat facing the pool's wall, supporting myself that way. I was actually kneeling, but squatting at the same time. It's hard to describe, but it was the only thing that felt comfortable. Carissa, Dotti's assistant, commented on how relaxed I was. I kind of laughed, but figured that the ooooohs, aaaaahs, moans, and a loose jaw were helping. I wasn't sure why I was relaxing, though, since my body had already opened up. I was just listening to what it was telling me to do, and that was relax through more contractions.

I didn't feel him descending into the birth canal for a while. I didn't feel the urge to push for a while, either. I was kind of surprised by this, but continued just to listen to what my body was telling me. Looking back, though, I was a little afraid that I might not get the urge to push and just have to do it anyway. I was fearful of that because I was a little fearful of pushing and the pain that would accompany it, and I wanted my body to force me to do it through the pain, not me choosing to do it in spite of the pain.

Zela was still awake and still silly. What surprised me is her not wanting to get into the pool. She and I had spent several evenings in the pool together and she loved it! The only thing she really insisted on was putting her baby in the pool. We were telling her no and trying to distract her, and instead, she made a running attempt at throwing her in. We all laughed a bit, and then another contraction hit.

Another thing that surprised me was my ability to converse and laugh and feel completely normal in between contractions. I appreciated it, but certainly didn't expect that -- especially after my labor with Zela.

I remember exclaiming during one contraction, "It's pushing. I'm not doing it." Dotti told me that it was my uterus doing it, but the feeling didn't return with the next few contractions. Carissa told me that I *could* push, if I wanted to, and explained how to do it. I didn't want to, so I didn't. No one chastised me or encouraged me to push if I didn't want to, which was nice. But then my body started telling me to push, and I couldn't help it. I worked with my body, and not against it, though, and pushed with all my might whenever I got that feeling.

It hurt. My moans got real deep and guttural, and through the last three contractions, pretty loud. My mom took Zela upstairs as soon as my vocalizations changed, because she was a little disturbed by my noises. Mom said that after they turned on the TV, they could still hear me now and then and that Zela would say, "Mommy cry?" My mom would answer her, and she'd be fine and continue watching cartoons. What cartoons are on at 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning, I don't know.

I remember asking Dotti, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!" while I was pushing. Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable as heck and I wanted her to let go. I later found out that she was trying to rupture my bag of waters; it never broke! The bag bulged forever, and it actually was born with Aidan, only breaking as he completely emerged from me. She had to remove the membranes from him quickly so that he could take his first breath. I never saw that, because I birthed him in that modified squatting position... kneeling on one knee, the other leg was propped up on my flat foot. I was leaning over the tub, so when he was delivered, it all happened behind me. I reached down once, as his head was about to emerge and I felt the bag of waters. It honestly frightened me because I didn't know what I was feeling and I was in a lot of pain. I knew that if I kept my hands down there, my fear might hinder things, so I let go and just let my body do its thing.

Carissa kept reminding me to push through the pain. I hollered and groaned through the pain of pushing, and I felt his head emerge. I never felt the ring of fire or anything similar to that; I think it happened too quickly. He was here in three contractions and seven minutes of pushing. His shoulders were born one minute after his head was.
And immediately after his body emerged, the pain was gone completely. I remember meeting eyes with Alan, and we shared an unbelievable moment as soon as he was born.

So we had our baby boy. Apgar scores of 8 and 9.

The two things that I was prepared for, but yet still surprised me, were how blue he was, being a water birth, and how it took a few seconds or so for him to take his first breath. He didn't cry for a little bit, too. I wouldn't say that I was ever scared, but it was far different from the hospital experience that I had with Zela. He was in my arms immediately, and didn't leave them for quite a while. Alan got to carry him (and the placenta) upstairs while Dotti helped me wrap myself in towels and Chux for my venture to my bed as well.

Carissa had already prepared the bed with plastic, sheets, and Chux. We made it up there and nursed for a while. It was beautiful. I would totally choose to have another home birth, regardless of our future financial situation.