A Healer’s Geste

Jaeger’s Story

As already announced by my father and husband, as well as by picture, little Jaeger Matthias finally entered the world Friday morning. While I did undergo early labor (regular 5-minute-apart crampy contractions) for practically 3 full days, active labor through delivery was only 3 1/2 hours. I had told Matt during the long early labor that I would consider this birth better than the first if only I had to push less than 2 hours. That criterion was more than met, for I pushed for only 10 minutes! If you want to know more of the nitty-gritty, read on; if you prefer to pass over the details for which only fellow mothers suffer curiosity, by all means leave off now.

I woke up at 11pm Thursday night with extremely strong contractions coming on every 3 minutes; after confirming that it continued past half an hour (because the castor oil had given me four such contractions and then left me with only the bottle’s professed effect), I knew this was the real deal. I still assumed I would be in it for many hours before hitting transition, and thought maybe Jaeger would be born before lunchtime on Friday. So, I stuck it out as long as I could without waking Matt — the more rest he had, the better support he could provide later — but after 45 minutes I could no longer suppress restless movement and low moans. Matt rubbed my back between contractions, got me drinks, and provided counterpressure on my lower back during contractions, which relieved a significant amount of pain. I moved from contracting by curling up on the bed, to standing toward the wall pushing against it, to gripping onto the bathroom towel bar, and finally to standing toward the bed bent over and pushing against it. The stability afforded by this position enabled Matt to push hard against my back; it kept my hair over my face, blocking out everything that was going on while not being in my face; and it allowed me to sway with support between contractions, which was comforting. After an hour and forty-five minutes from the start we called Fran, the midwife. I was grateful that she didn’t question me about the length or frequency of contractions — I told her she should come, she asked if my water had broken (it had not), and she said she was on her way. Because it was 1 in the morning, we decided to wait and see how far along things were before calling our parents (Dave & Marj were planning on taking Hans). Maybe twenty minutes later she arrived, checked, and after a pause during which I thought “I must be at at least 5, maybe 6,” she announced 8! She commented later that the look on my face was evident relief and astonishment. I was practically almost done! Matt called my mom, telling her that if she wanted to be here for the birth, she better hurry, and reached the conclusion with his dad that they didn’t have time to come for Hans, and we’d have to hope that he’d sleep through it (he did, praise God, for I was certainly not quiet!). Fran at this point also called her birthing assistant, admonishing her to hurry. While all this was going on, I was moving into transition and becoming increasingly unaware of what was going on and unable to do or attend to anything but the contractions. Between a contraction (there was now hardly a minute between them, I think), I became conscious that someone entered the room — I looked up and saw that someone had — but I honestly had no idea who it was. A contraction began, and someone pushed lightly on my back. I wanted to tell Matt to push harder as he had been, but couldn’t say anything. When it was easing off I heard my mom offering praise and encouragement and realized it had been her and she was now standing beside me. I was at least whimpering if not crying while I rested on her (which is a better description of it from my side than a hug) until the next contraction began. There was bustle around me, but I was thoroughly unaware of anything that was happening. I felt towels being laid under me, but that is all I know of what “getting ready” involved. At some point the assistant arrived, but I wasn’t cognisant of her until after I was on the bed and she was laying the baby on my chest. Fran was still getting things ready when I suddenly yelled, because I realized they would probably need to know, “I’m pushing!” I heard an “ok!” from Fran that sounded distant, and though I did expect her to give me some direction or do something about it, I didn’t receive any; I simply pushed. I felt like I was on my own at this point and unsure if I could do it or was doing it right. Mom was telling me that I was doing a good job and I heard her confirm to Fran that I was certainly pushing, but no one told me what to do, so I just did what I felt like doing when I felt like it, but that was actually somewhat stressful to me. I felt quite alone. I stayed where I was at the bed, and when I pushed, I simply squatted down; Matt lifted me back up each time to stand over the bed and sway. After the second push, I thought I felt something, and reached down and said, “It’s his head!” I thought it was, and part of me thought, “Now you have to pay attention to me!” Fran checked and said it was the bag of waters, but his head was very close. At the next push the water broke, which I again yelled to announed, hoping again to get attention, and I felt more towels being thrown underneath and Fran saying that the water was clear and plentiful. My experience of pushing for 2 1/2 hours with Hans, laying on a bed with lights over me, my legs hitched up, and 5 people standing all around me having nothing to do but tell me to push while I was pushing is what made me feel this time that I was not receiving any attention. The pushing itself, this time, was actually a relief; doing something about the pain helped allieviate the consciousness of the pain. However, at this point Fran started massaging to help me open gently without tearing, and that was the most excruciating part of the whole labor. I even summoned enough strength to grunt out, “Your finger hurts!” It didn’t do any good — she didn’t stop and Mom tried to explain and comfort. That hurt so much that I didn’t feel like pushing anymore, I just wanted to stop and cry and get away. But then they started telling me that I had to push, and I exerted all my energy into complying — more energy went into making myself do it than into the pushes themselves, and I knew I had to push harder and longer if I wanted this to be over. So I did my best and finally (I know it was maybe 3-4 pushes, but it seemed a very long time) I felt not the head come through, but I felt her stop massaging. Then she said I had to push his body out and I realized that that must mean his head was out. So I pushed even though it wasn’t with a contraction and I didn’t really feel like it; I put everything I could into it, and I felt a slippery, boney body pass between my legs. I wanted to just collapse onto the floor as I realized it was over, but just as I finished a deep breath, Fran was telling me to take the baby (I was still squatting at the bed) and I could hardly comprehend what she wanted me to do as I saw something red being lifted up toward me. I think she or something helped me put my hands where they needed to go, because I wasn’t sure what I was doing. Then several people helped me onto the bed where towels and paper sheets had been piled, and I was holding the baby with the assistant’s help. The baby was on my chest and the three other women in the room were making comments but I was not conscious of what they were saying. Matt tells me that the baby’s cord was wrapped twice around his neck and they were commenting on doctors’ doubts that such births could be safely done at home. Fran had checked his heartbeat when she checked me at the beginning, but the rest of it went so quickly that she didn’t check it again — I’m glad of it, too, because I sincerely did not want to move at all. They must have gotten it untangled immediately as his head came out, for his color and vitals were all very good, though I think perhaps it took him a few seconds longer than it had taken Hans to begin crying. The assistant cleaned him up right on top of me, and as she did everything that they do with newborns, she kept pronouncing him to be a perfect baby. Fran was delivering the placenta, which took a little effort and I was vaguely conscious that she might have reached and tugged a little to finally get it, but I’m not sure. Matt cut the cord with a scalpel, received the placenta and cord into the plastic container and delivered it to the freezer. Then Fran started cleaning up, and she and the assistant helped me to the bathroom and a shower. When I came back I laid back in my own bed, received my baby who very promptly took to suckling, the assistant not needing to offer any help or advice at all. Fran was just finishing cleaning up, giving the laundry to my mom to start, and giving me a few instructions and arranging to check up on me the next day and the day after that. In a short amount of time, Matt and I were back in bed with a baby, falling asleep in the very early morning in our own bedroom which looked practically the same as it did when I had woken up at 11.