Birth Story: Reilly

Welcoming Reilly I didn't want kids. So when the two separate pee sticks showed positive, I cried so hard I gave myself a bloody nose. Two weeks of bed rest due to a threatened miscarriage four weeks later changed my mind real quick. I wanted this baby. Badly. I was 30 weeks pregnant when I watched a birthing video with a couple of girlfriends just for the heck of it. What kind of video is called "The Orgasmic Birth?!" While I couldn't imagine getting so in touch with my labor experience to orgasm, this video shot such an electric bolt of realization through me that I felt like an idiot.

I had OPTIONS. I could CHOOSE my birthing experience; I didn't have to labor in that cold, bland, impersonal hospital room I recently toured just because I had insurance. Wow. I went home late that night only to fire up the Google search engine, researching my options, pouring over reviews, typing several emails to midwives…on and on 'till my eyes glazed over with too much grit.

By 32 weeks (8 months) I was a patient and guest at Alma Midwifery. The environment there was immediately welcoming, the atmosphere there reaching into me and smoothing away any doubts for a natural childbirth. This is exactly what I wanted, what I had been craving without even knowing it. I was set up with a birthing team of two midwives and an apprentice: Kori, Stephanie, Courtney, and later Kate. I liked these women from the very start, and to this day believe I got the best care from them. I loved having an apprentice there at the few visits I had. Courtney would ask questions I wouldn't think to ask. She'd feel my belly to learn which way he was laying, trying to identify body parts. I loved it because I got to learn right along with her; I couldn't tell my growth's face from his butt before Alma!

My due-date was September 10, 2009, due to be a summer baby and a Virgo.

September 10th comes.
September 10th goes.
September 17th passes…

8:00am, September 23rd, I wake up, waddle into my bathroom, and there it is – The Bloody Show – my first sign that I may not be pregnant for the rest of my life. Not five minutes later I experience my first contraction… Will today finally be the day?

I giddily made myself breakfast then drove to my dad and step-mom's house where my sisters were waiting for me. I had called and encouraged my mom to finish her shift at work and to come over to Dad's for dinner after; Gabby was going to make Mexican food. I had also sent a text message to Dad and Dana, who had landed in Colorado that very morning and wouldn't make the birth.

The contractions slowly increased between 15 and 20 minutes apart. I tried to follow my midwives advice to rest and go through my day as normal as possible. We walked the Clackamas mall sucking down Jamba Juice. We played speed card games. We talked and drank tea. Evening descended and I 'hammocked' my son, knees on the ground, my head pillowed in my arms resting on the sofa, gently rocking my belly from side to side, trying to promote a good position. I remember Glee being on TV, the dancing football team episode. By this time I was calling Stephanie every two hours; all I wanted was to get into the relaxing atmosphere of my chosen birthing room. Not yet. She kept saying not yet. I wanted to cry. My sisters took turns sleeping and timing how long my contractions lasted and how far apart, while my mother sat next to me and tried to ease the back labor

I tried to sleep between contractions. I vaguely remember something being on about a seven-year-old body builder.
Finally, at 4:00am Stephanie said to come on in. They'd been about five minutes apart, but were now lasting about a minute and half. I could tell she hadn't liked telling me to wait. We piled into Dad and Dana's 4-Runner, myself taking a backseat so I could lean over the back, clenching Sami's hand. I remember Gabby swearing at some other motorist on the way for almost hitting us.
Arriving at Alma and being allowed to make the trek up the stairs to the Chloe room was such a relief. My son was coming! The lovely tub with the beautiful pregnant woman mosaic overlooking it was filled for my comfort. This was the plan, to birth my son in the water.
Of course that didn't work.
While I slept between contractions, they didn't progress. Courtney was always there to offer me something to drink or take down our vitals. Kate was now a part of my birthing team as Kori had gone to Haiti to teach midwifery there. Kate and Stephanie suggested I go walking. I got up, had a contraction standing, and said no way, I don't want to. So, to the birthing stool we went. This was probably the best thing for me; though I was on it a long time, Stephanie taught me how to push and how to get the most out of them. She sat there on the ground, her fingers helping to keep the cervix lip out of the way, encouraging and complimenting always. She tried to doze as I tried to doze. My water finally broke. I remember feeling such an endless amount of admiration and gratitude towards this midwife at my feet, so patient and so encouraging. I felt so much love for my mother, too, as she sat behind me, exhausted, still trying to ease my back labor. I don't know how long we sat there. It was suggested that we move to the bed. I hated the thought of the bed. I had the awful feeling that if I labored on a bed that it wouldn't be much different than doing so in a hospital.

I was wrong. Once on the bed things went very quickly. My mother stood to the side holding one leg, Gabby on the bed with me holding the other. Sami was shining a flashlight on my son's crowning head, while Shayna took pictures. Stephanie was there in the middle of it all, with Courtney observing over her shoulder. Stephanie gave a quiet laugh and told me that she could see his head wiggling, trying to help get himself out; she hadn't seen that before. Contractions were no longer five minutes apart as they had been this whole time, but they weren't right on top of each other either. When his head came out there was a brief resting period, where I heard everyone exclaim with "Awww!".

I was told his little hand had come out with his head, the back of it resting against the opposite cheek and ear. I couldn't wait for this to be over! I wanted to see him! Finally it came, and I rode those contractions out until I felt him slip from my body and into Stephanie's waiting arms, which quickly transferred him into mine. I just cried. He was here. Exactly two weeks later from his due date, but HERE. My son was in my arms, and perfect. Completely and utterly perfect. He peed on me.

Someone eventually had to take him from me so I could deliver the placenta, but there were no more contractions. None. I couldn't push it out, and it couldn't be pulled out, so I had to stand. Poor Stephanie. As I tried to stand on the bed I fell into her, not having much strength in my legs to get up. I couldn't stop laughing. I finally got up with some help, and a large metal bowl was placed under me to catch the placenta. It came out with a plop, showering everyone too close with drops of blood. I just kept laughing.

After that, I bonded with my son. He had no troubles latching onto my breast, and when I burped him he could already lift his little head. Our vitals were taken. I touched my placenta and declined to keep it. My little boy's stat's were taken: Reilly Galen made his debut on September 24, 2009 at 11:43am, 8lbs 9oz, 20 inches long, now an autumn baby and a Libra. I learned later that Dad and Dana were 9,500 on a mountain somewhere in Colorado when he was born; very cool.

I stayed 2 days at Alma, cared for by lovely doulas, eating wonderful food brought to me that I chose from nearby restaurants. On my last day I had a massage. I enjoyed it and took that time to really rest and relax. I wasn't sleeping well, trying to listen for sounds from Reilly as he had been choking on gunk coming from his lungs. I was scared to death that he would drown in his own mucus. But we made it, and I was loving every minute of my son's existence.

I cried when it was time to go home. I didn't want to leave this bubble of comfort and serenity. I didn't want to rejoin reality. I had grown very fond of Alma and the people there, and I just wanted to keep them close. I still miss them. But we're thriving. My son is growing rapidly, and strangers stop me to exclaim what a beautiful boy I have, how jealous they are of his long, LONG lashes. My son is my world and he fills me with pride, and I believe I had the best possible labor and birth experience. I highly doubt I would have been allowed to labor so long or get such caring advice on how to really push in a hospital setting. I am truly, truly grateful to my birthing team and Alma Midwifery for having such a positive and loving role in my memories.

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