Ainsley’s Birth Story
as told by her mother, Cindy
January 28, 2007
Our due date was February 5, 2007. Our son, Ambrose, had been born at the Greenhouse Birth Center in November of 2004 (see his birth story). There was no question about where we would deliver Expectant Joy #2. Our experience at the birth center had been wonderful, and we looked forward to bringing our second child into the world in the same peaceful surroundings.
38 weeks: One Week Before Birth
Ambrose was born 9 days before his due date and, since he was my first, we were sort of anticipating our second baby at or before that time. Sure enough, labor started kicking in at nearly the exact same length of pregnancy as last time. The other key factor in getting this baby to come, I believe, was to have my husband, Brett, dismantle the kitchen faucet. This involved cutting off the water supply to the kitchen, thus leaving dirty dishes all over the table and counters, and removing all of the contents from the under-sink area to be spread around the kitchen floor. It wasn’t the Martha Stewart home we had hoped to bring our baby home to, but nature had taken over so what were we to do?
My contractions began at around 11 o’clock or so on the night of January 27, 2007. Although I’d been having toning contractions for months, I immediately recognized the difference in location and intensity of these. I knew this was the real deal, but I’d labored for 48 hours last time so I wasn’t feeling rushed. I was too uncomfortable to sleep and Brett had gone in to sleep with Ambrose. Throughout the night I had refused to time my contractions, convinced it didn’t mean anything anyway. Plus there hadn’t been any bloody show or any sign of my mucus plug to indicate that my cervix was dilating. When early Sunday morning cartoons failed to entertain me sufficiently, I gave in and timed my contractions. They were regular at 5-7 minutes apart and were lasting 30-45 seconds.
At 7:45 A.M. on January 28th I went in and woke up Brett, telling him that I didn’t want to be alone anymore. The plan was for his parents to come from Farmington Hills to take care of Ambrose when D-day arrived, so we called them and left a message at around 8 A.M. (Where were they on a Sunday morning? It was too early for their church service.) I then went into the bathroom to pee and there it went: my mucus plug. Cool, I was dilating. All this work hadn’t been for nothing. So we paged the answering service and Shelie responded. I told her my status and she patiently waited while I breathed through a contraction on the phone. She said she was already at the birth center because they’d had another mom come in and then leave because she was only dilated to one. Shelie asked if I wanted to come in then, but I said I wanted to stick it out at home until Brett’s parents arrived. She gave me the phone number to the kitchen area of the birth center so that I wouldn’t have to go through the answering service again. She said she planned to stick around there so I could go right in if I felt the need.
An hour later we still hadn’t heard back from Brett’s parents. I called them again and my father-in-law answered. I’m sure he heard the tension in my voice when I inquired whether he had received my previous message. He had not, as he had just walked in the door. “Mom’s swimming right now. I’ll call her and we’ll be there in an hour and a half,” he said with excitement.
Now it was nearing 9:30. For at least an hour I had been making vocalizations during my contractions and had been leaning on a birthing ball. I announced that we could not wait for Brett’s parents to arrive. I was starting to feel “pushy” and the contractions were extremely intense. Brett called our neighbors and arranged for Ambrose to go over there until his parents arrived. Then he called his parents and set everything up for the Ambrose transfer.
Okay, so now we were ready to go to the birth center. Where was that phone number Shelie gave me? I couldn’t find it anywhere! “She said she was going to be there. Let’s go!” I ordered. Our bag had already been packed except for nourishments, which Brett grabbed on the way out the door. I was still wearing my not-fit-for-public-viewing stretch pants, but it simply didn’t matter to me at that point. Brett had the Grand Prix up to 60 mph on Marsh Road until I demanded that he slow down. My rationale was that it would take too long for the cops to run the plates before approaching the vehicle to explain our situation. He valiantly offered to run a red light for me because traffic was dead at 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning, but that didn’t seem like a good idea since we were right next to the police station.
On the way to the birth center, it occurred to me to wonder who was on call with Shelie. If it was Kip, she had a bit of a drive ahead of her and I was afraid she wouldn’t make it in time. This concern was contrasted with the fear that I would find out I was only slightly dilated and that I still had a great deal of laboring left to do.
Relief swept over me as we pulled into the GBC parking lot and I saw two cars, Shelie’s and Clarice’s. Brett honked the horn to alert them to our arrival. We walked in and Clarice said, “We didn’t know you were coming!” I immediately began to apologize for not calling and tried to explain about the lost phone number but both midwives assured us that it was no problem. “We just like to have the tub ready for you is all,” said Clarice. I replied, “I thought I might just come in and push the baby out.” They both snapped into gear and Shelie began filling the tub. At my request, Clarice checked my cervix. “My dear, you are almost fully dilated. The ring of cervix that’s left is inconsequential.” Those words were music to my ears after the hours and hours of waiting for those last 1-2 centimeters during my labor with Ambrose.
Things kept moving along during the next hour. I remember asking, “Is this really happening?” several times because it felt so unreal. There was also some discussion, brought up by Brett I believe, but I don’t recall why or how, about whether Clarice’s dog tries to sample the tootsie rolls that her cats leave in the litter box. (You’ll have to ask her if you want the answer.)
The tub was full and warm and I happily moved into it. My aspirations to be a calm, cool, and collected laboring mom went the way of my aspirations to have a Martha Stewart home. I’m not very pleasant to watch in labor, I’m sure, as I make lots of horrible noises and facial expressions. (The latter I know because I’m making one in nearly every picture Shelie took during my labor.) My body was telling me to push, so that’s what I was doing.
Laboring in the Tub
Clarice did an exam another time or two while I labored in the tub and kept saying, “The baby’s moving down.” I figured she was probably just saying that to make me feel like progress was being made, but I expected to still have a long time to go. At one point, Brett commented on a small iridescent droplet floating on the surface of the water. “That looks like oil,” he said. “It is,” Clarice replied and no further discussion ensued. I couldn’t believe it when they told me to reach down and feel Baby’s head. The baby really was moving down! Then, yikes!, I’d forgotten the intensity of the ring of fire when the baby’s head was crowning. I heard Clarice give Brett some advice about where to be in order to catch the baby. This was encouraging to me. We were getting close! A few pushes later someone announced that the head was out. I had been leaning up against the side of the tub until this point at which Clarice issued two orders to me in a no-nonsense voice that got me moving. The first was to squat and then, a moment later, the second was to stand. It wasn’t until I stood up that Baby’s shoulders and body came out into Daddy’s loving arms at 11:28 A.M.
I tried to turn around to see my baby, the fruit of my labor, and when I did I saw blood everywhere. It was on the wall, on Clarice’s clothes and arms, and had completely discolored the water. This was confusing to me, as birth isn’t typically so bloody, but I didn’t give it too much thought in my excitement to see my baby. Brett or somebody had placed Baby in my arms and I quickly looked to see what model we had. “Oh my gosh, Brett, it’s a girl!” I said. Oops, I had intended to let him make the announcement as he did with Ambrose but I’d forgotten in my amazement to see that we had a baby girl.
Ainsley Arrives
Then I got the explanation for all of the blood. Clarice calmly explained that the cord had ripped somehow during the manipulations involved in birthing the baby but that they had clamped it and that everything was fine. She was careful not to assign blame for what happened but both Brett and I speculated that one of us may have been responsible for the rip. Perhaps I turned around too quickly in my haste to see the baby; perhaps he pulled her away from me too forcefully when she came out. We don’t know, and we made the joint decision not to ask for more details about this in our postpartum visits as we felt disappointed that Ainsley’s cord had to be clamped prematurely rather than waiting for it to finish pulsating as Ambrose’s had.
Soon I was ready to get out of the tub. That’s when the next weird thing happened. My left leg wasn’t working properly and I got a severe shot of pain through my hip when I tried to stand up. It was like there was some communication problem with my leg. It simply wasn’t following commands. With a great deal of help, my left leg was lifted over the side of the tub and I half walked, was half dragged over onto the bed. None of us know for sure what happened or what the source of the injury was but assumed that I must have pulled a ligament or something when I was moving around quickly to get Ainsley out. Just as her big brother had, Ainsley had shoulder dystocia (hence the reason for Clarice’s commands for me to squat and stand), so that may have contributed to my injury in some way.
Once on the bed, Ainsley got right down to the business of taking her first meal while Clarice debriefed us a bit on some details of which we hadn’t been aware. The oil that Brett had noticed floating on the water was evening primrose oil. Just as with Ambrose’s birth, Clarice had used it to coax away the last bit of cervix, which hadn’t ended up being as inconsequential as she had expected. In an effort not to discourage me, she used the oil while I was in the tub rather than giving me the bad news about the fact that I hadn’t finished dilating. And as with Ambrose, it worked! Also like my first delivery, Clarice’s exam revealed that I was fortunate to not have sustained any lacerations.
Once we were ready, Shelie did Ainsley’s exam and I was surprised to learn that she weighed in at 9 lbs 2 oz. We also discovered some bruising on Ainsley’s left arm, so she had endured some battle wounds just as I had. With her head full of dark hair, she looked very much like a feminine version of what Ambrose had looked like as a newborn.
My leg injury was very debilitating and we had to get creative when it came to helping me ambulate. Shelie had the idea to use an office chair on wheels to get me to the bathroom. That worked well and we used the same idea once we got home. (Incidentally, my leg recovered remarkably quickly. I used an office chair for the first couple of days, then a walker on loan from Shelie for the next day and then I was able to walk independently after that. Hooray for Arnica!)
Brett called our house and asked to speak to Ambrose so that he may be the first to hear the news. Ambrose was too busy eating pizza to bother with us, so my mother-in-law relayed the message to him that the baby was a girl. Upon hearing that Baby had “no penis,” she reported that his mouth fell open! My in-laws brought Ambrose to meet his baby sister once he was done with his lunch. He adoringly cooed at her and kissed her without prompting. It was love at first sight if ever there was.
A Big Brother is Born
We are so grateful for the loving care we received and continue to receive from the Greenhouse Birth Center midwives and staff. It is such a blessing to have been able to bring both of our children into the world in that peaceful, nurturing environment. The birth center has become more than a place to birth our babies; it has become a community of friends and an invaluable network of support. If God blesses us with another child, we’ll most definitely be back again!