And then, there was Simon
It's 4:58 am and I'm in the birth center bed where just 6 hours earlier I pushed out my second son. I actually haven't heard him cry much, and he's already a better sleeper than either his brother or sister were at his ripe age of 6 hours. I didn't write out their birth stories till a few months after they were born. But my brain feels broken so much of the time now, and I want to remember (almost) everything from my magical last birth.
It all started Friday afternoon when the kids woke up from their nap. I laid down on the couch and contractions began and continued every 7-10 minutes till 4 the next morning. But when Matt asked if he should come home from work early that night, I knew deep down that the contractions I was having were not ones that would get me very far. Never the less, the midwife wanted someone to come sleep at the house in case they got stronger so we could leave straight away. Thankfully our beautiful friend Martha braved the rain and snow and drove to our house around 2 or 3. Shortly after she arrived the contractions stopped. They picked up again around 7 for a bit, and the midwife asked to see us. I was heart broken when she said I was at 2 cm. I cried the whole way home. Mostly because of the stress of finding a caregiver for our other babies and the thought of having to trouble someone else at some other point down the road.
Saturday was pretty awesome. My contractions were harder, more painful, and coming every 30 minutes. It was actually a bit freeing to have had false labor the day before, because I just felt like- well, these probably aren't labor either, so I'm going to lay here in bed, watch British crime shows and eat ice cream. Then around 11 that night they stopped. I was sad for one second then proceeded to fall promptly asleep and had a beautiful 12 hour rest.
The moment I started moving around Sunday morning little contractions began. Matt had already called out of work, so we packed up the children and went to the mall for some walking. The forecast called for a foot of snow between that night and the next day, so we figured we might as well give these practice contractions a shot at getting serious. We walked and walked, and as we did, contractions started coming harder and every 7 minutes. We headed home around nap time and as we got home, they stopped again! I ate a nice lunch, sat on the birth ball and watched more of Poirot. And so they began again every 5-6 minutes. Our beloved friend and neighbor Amanda came over, we packed up our already very prepared bags, and left for the birth center. For the second time.
When we arrived it was about 2 pm and I was 3 cm. THREE CENTIMETERS. My heart dropped. But God bless that beautiful saint of a midwife who decided my contractions were hard enough that she wasn't sending us home. She did a quick membranes sweep, and taught me an AMAZING trick for third time mamas. Since muscles get so stretched and weak after carrying three 9 lb babies in four years, she told me to hold my belly up with each contraction, allowing his head to push more directly onto my cervix. It made contractions INSANE. But at that point I was like- bring it on. So Matt and I went for another nice long walk. It was cool and grey, and you could feel the storm was close. At one point on our walk we saw a huge hawk! I had a nice little contraction under his perch, and we took it as a good omen. We walked into Wawa for Matt to get a hoagie. It was around this point that I thought- ok. This is happening. I couldn't walk through contractions any more, and I had to hold onto Matt and moan through them. Which is a bit awkward in the middle of a Wawa.
On the way back to the Birth Center they started coming 2 minutes apart. It was about 4 pm. I was so shocked and appalled when she next checked me. "Not much different... But something is definitely happening!" After that I paced the room and supported my belly with every contraction, hard and painful every 2 minutes. I was getting so tired, so I tried sitting on the birth ball. The contractions got harder, but farther apart. Which was amazing. And on the birth ball I stayed for the next probably four hours! Both Danielle and Lindsey came during this time and we had a few good hours of chatting and laughing between contractions before transition. At some point I decided to lay down on my left side. I think this is when I stopped talking. I remember thinking- why on earth had I wanted labor to start?? This is madness! Then I got up to pee and did a few contractions while sitting on the toilet. POP!!! My warm, clean waters broke conveniently into the bowl! Ahhhhhh! Wait, I'm really in labor! They aren't sending me home?? This is happening? Oh god... This is happening!
I returned to the bed and laid on my right side for a few minutes. As soon as the midwife and nurse went outside with instructions to let them know when I was ready to push, I felt ready to push. I somehow transitioned to all fours, apparently my favorite way to push out babies... And one contraction passed, "Hoooooooooommmmmeee!" No pushing. Then with the swelling of the next contraction, I felt my pushing roar coming on and sure enough that overwhelming, overpowering pushing urge took over and despite my fear and resistance towards this part, I was in full throttle pushing mode before I knew it. "GUUUUUURRRRRAAAAHHHHHRR!!!!!!" The ring of fire overwhelmed me. The contraction stopped. Waiting for the next one was unbearable and I began my next push before the wave even began to swell again. But when that next contraction hit- it swept me away. I was overwhelmed with burning and strain when I heard- "Bess- stop! squeeze a bit." WHAT?? Squeeze?! Are you crazy? "Here's his eyebrows! Here's his nose! Head is out!" Laughter and chatter from everyone in the room... "Ok, Bess give me one more huge push!" PLOP! "Oh my god, oh my god! He's out, he's out!" They handed him through my legs into my shaking, anxiously awaiting arms. The relief was other-worldly. I started kissing his slimy little head instinctively. He was dark purple and not crying, but no one seemed worried. I rubbed him all over and sure enough after a bit of encouragement he let out the sweetest little cry. His cord had been around his neck, but he pinked up in no time. We somehow rolled over and began cuddling immediately. He started nursing as soon as Matt cut the cord. Like a little champion. My beautiful boy. "Does he have a name?" "Simon. His name is Simon Michael Ebenezer."
Simon was born at 11:00 pm on Sunday January 25. Two weeks and one hour away from his due date. (Which I actually only found out was Feb 9th on Friday. I always thought it was the 7th!) Despite being two weeks early he was 9 lbs even, 19 3/4 inches long and he had long finger nails. Matt calls him our little runt since our other two were 9 lbs 3 oz and 21 inches. (But as my friend Holly so wisely said- 3 oz doesn't make much difference in labor...)
Simon means- "he hears", or "the listener". Matt and I both carry such an immense gratitude for this surprise baby. The memory of my bleeding and truly thinking we were losing him has stayed with us in a very deep way. When I started bleeding at 12 weeks I just called out to God, to the baby, to the universe, whoever would listen. Not that I think it works that way. Not at all, actually. But when I read the meaning, it felt right.
Michael is Matt's dad's name. Our beloved "Bompa". I can't tell you how meaningful it is for us to have two little boys, carrying around the names of both of our dads. Both such special and deeply loved grandpas.
Ebenezer has been with us since Veda. We have loved it, and tried it, and packed it away with each child. Then, this time, it fit. Our little "stone of remembrance". From his unexpected creation to his, at times, difficult gestation, this baby has been such a source of light for Matt and I. By it we have seen just how much we have to be grateful for- in one another, in our family, in ourselves. We have been shown great love and help through out this season and hope to carry these memories with us always.
It all started Friday afternoon when the kids woke up from their nap. I laid down on the couch and contractions began and continued every 7-10 minutes till 4 the next morning. But when Matt asked if he should come home from work early that night, I knew deep down that the contractions I was having were not ones that would get me very far. Never the less, the midwife wanted someone to come sleep at the house in case they got stronger so we could leave straight away. Thankfully our beautiful friend Martha braved the rain and snow and drove to our house around 2 or 3. Shortly after she arrived the contractions stopped. They picked up again around 7 for a bit, and the midwife asked to see us. I was heart broken when she said I was at 2 cm. I cried the whole way home. Mostly because of the stress of finding a caregiver for our other babies and the thought of having to trouble someone else at some other point down the road.
Saturday was pretty awesome. My contractions were harder, more painful, and coming every 30 minutes. It was actually a bit freeing to have had false labor the day before, because I just felt like- well, these probably aren't labor either, so I'm going to lay here in bed, watch British crime shows and eat ice cream. Then around 11 that night they stopped. I was sad for one second then proceeded to fall promptly asleep and had a beautiful 12 hour rest.
The moment I started moving around Sunday morning little contractions began. Matt had already called out of work, so we packed up the children and went to the mall for some walking. The forecast called for a foot of snow between that night and the next day, so we figured we might as well give these practice contractions a shot at getting serious. We walked and walked, and as we did, contractions started coming harder and every 7 minutes. We headed home around nap time and as we got home, they stopped again! I ate a nice lunch, sat on the birth ball and watched more of Poirot. And so they began again every 5-6 minutes. Our beloved friend and neighbor Amanda came over, we packed up our already very prepared bags, and left for the birth center. For the second time.
When we arrived it was about 2 pm and I was 3 cm. THREE CENTIMETERS. My heart dropped. But God bless that beautiful saint of a midwife who decided my contractions were hard enough that she wasn't sending us home. She did a quick membranes sweep, and taught me an AMAZING trick for third time mamas. Since muscles get so stretched and weak after carrying three 9 lb babies in four years, she told me to hold my belly up with each contraction, allowing his head to push more directly onto my cervix. It made contractions INSANE. But at that point I was like- bring it on. So Matt and I went for another nice long walk. It was cool and grey, and you could feel the storm was close. At one point on our walk we saw a huge hawk! I had a nice little contraction under his perch, and we took it as a good omen. We walked into Wawa for Matt to get a hoagie. It was around this point that I thought- ok. This is happening. I couldn't walk through contractions any more, and I had to hold onto Matt and moan through them. Which is a bit awkward in the middle of a Wawa.
On the way back to the Birth Center they started coming 2 minutes apart. It was about 4 pm. I was so shocked and appalled when she next checked me. "Not much different... But something is definitely happening!" After that I paced the room and supported my belly with every contraction, hard and painful every 2 minutes. I was getting so tired, so I tried sitting on the birth ball. The contractions got harder, but farther apart. Which was amazing. And on the birth ball I stayed for the next probably four hours! Both Danielle and Lindsey came during this time and we had a few good hours of chatting and laughing between contractions before transition. At some point I decided to lay down on my left side. I think this is when I stopped talking. I remember thinking- why on earth had I wanted labor to start?? This is madness! Then I got up to pee and did a few contractions while sitting on the toilet. POP!!! My warm, clean waters broke conveniently into the bowl! Ahhhhhh! Wait, I'm really in labor! They aren't sending me home?? This is happening? Oh god... This is happening!
I returned to the bed and laid on my right side for a few minutes. As soon as the midwife and nurse went outside with instructions to let them know when I was ready to push, I felt ready to push. I somehow transitioned to all fours, apparently my favorite way to push out babies... And one contraction passed, "Hoooooooooommmmmeee!" No pushing. Then with the swelling of the next contraction, I felt my pushing roar coming on and sure enough that overwhelming, overpowering pushing urge took over and despite my fear and resistance towards this part, I was in full throttle pushing mode before I knew it. "GUUUUUURRRRRAAAAHHHHHRR!!!!!!" The ring of fire overwhelmed me. The contraction stopped. Waiting for the next one was unbearable and I began my next push before the wave even began to swell again. But when that next contraction hit- it swept me away. I was overwhelmed with burning and strain when I heard- "Bess- stop! squeeze a bit." WHAT?? Squeeze?! Are you crazy? "Here's his eyebrows! Here's his nose! Head is out!" Laughter and chatter from everyone in the room... "Ok, Bess give me one more huge push!" PLOP! "Oh my god, oh my god! He's out, he's out!" They handed him through my legs into my shaking, anxiously awaiting arms. The relief was other-worldly. I started kissing his slimy little head instinctively. He was dark purple and not crying, but no one seemed worried. I rubbed him all over and sure enough after a bit of encouragement he let out the sweetest little cry. His cord had been around his neck, but he pinked up in no time. We somehow rolled over and began cuddling immediately. He started nursing as soon as Matt cut the cord. Like a little champion. My beautiful boy. "Does he have a name?" "Simon. His name is Simon Michael Ebenezer."
Simon was born at 11:00 pm on Sunday January 25. Two weeks and one hour away from his due date. (Which I actually only found out was Feb 9th on Friday. I always thought it was the 7th!) Despite being two weeks early he was 9 lbs even, 19 3/4 inches long and he had long finger nails. Matt calls him our little runt since our other two were 9 lbs 3 oz and 21 inches. (But as my friend Holly so wisely said- 3 oz doesn't make much difference in labor...)
Simon means- "he hears", or "the listener". Matt and I both carry such an immense gratitude for this surprise baby. The memory of my bleeding and truly thinking we were losing him has stayed with us in a very deep way. When I started bleeding at 12 weeks I just called out to God, to the baby, to the universe, whoever would listen. Not that I think it works that way. Not at all, actually. But when I read the meaning, it felt right.
Michael is Matt's dad's name. Our beloved "Bompa". I can't tell you how meaningful it is for us to have two little boys, carrying around the names of both of our dads. Both such special and deeply loved grandpas.
Ebenezer has been with us since Veda. We have loved it, and tried it, and packed it away with each child. Then, this time, it fit. Our little "stone of remembrance". From his unexpected creation to his, at times, difficult gestation, this baby has been such a source of light for Matt and I. By it we have seen just how much we have to be grateful for- in one another, in our family, in ourselves. We have been shown great love and help through out this season and hope to carry these memories with us always.
Welcome to earth magical little Simon Michael Ebenezer!
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