My First Birth as a Doula

I've had two babies the all natural, old school way. And when I say old school, I mean like in my home, with a midwife, doing my own thing however the hell I wanted to old school. But I had never watched another women give birth before. Until Friday.

S's labor was atypical. She is a first time mom and so didn't really know what to expect from labor, but hers started weird and just never settled into something she could recognize from all her study and preparation as labor. She had contacted me around 8:45 am on Wednesday saying she thought her water was leaking since the night before and that she was having what she thought were contractions. But they weren't in her belly, they were deep below, her thighs were shaking and tingling and they were lasting for "no more than five minutes, about once an hour". Five minutes? Once an hour? I didn't really know what to think of it, but said that it sounded like she was feeling her pain as pressure on the cervix (that is where all the action is, after all). I told her to try to rest and that her midwife could tell her if it was amniotic fluid or not. They went into the birth center, were told the baby had dropped and that was why she was in such discomfort. She got no information on dilation or effacement, so assumed there was none. They sent her home.

Besides an email expressing some doubts as to whether she could handle a natural birth, given that the pain she was now experiencing was apparently not labor, that was the last I heard from her until 3:38 am on Friday morning.

You would think this little scare would have prompted me to get my doula bag together, get a pair of clothes set out and ready. Alas...

I heard the phone ring through the veil of a dream. I had turned the ringer down earlier that day (thank GOD I hadn't accidentally turned it off!) so it was barely loud enough to wake me. As soon as it registered what I was hearing, and seeing S's husband's name on the missed call screen, I was immediately awake, adrenaline pumping, blood whooshing in my ears. I called A back and he said they had thought it was a false alarm, but definitely not. I asked if they were on the way to the center, and he said they had just arrived. Holy cow! At the birth center! This is it!

I pretty much flew out of bed. As I brushed my teeth and put my contacts in, I mentally gathered all my stuff. Rebozo in the office, honey sticks on the shelf in the living room, toiletries on the kitchen table, tennis balls by the front door, birth ball in the basement. And crap. If I wanted this birth to count towards certification, I needed the midwife evaluation form with me, which was somewhere on my computer. I gave myself three minutes to try to find it before giving up and getting in the car. The damn computer is so damn slow, so I after two and a half minutes I shook my head and said "What are you DOING?!?!? Get out the door!" I left the house at 3:49 am and headed to the birth center.

My mantra in the car: don't get lost, don't get in an accident.

I pulled into Special Beginnings at about 4:25 am and went to the back door. They were the only family there that night, and I was met by the nurse who told me S was in the tub, and the midwife who told me that she was 9+ when she arrived an hour earlier and there was just a small anterior lip left.

The lights were low. S was laying on her side in the tub, eyes closed, holding A's hand. A was sitting on a stool by the tub. Each contraction came and went, and S breathed slow and deep, moaning through each one. When she tried to run from the contraction, the nurse gently reminded her to slow her breathing and focus on her breath. I felt slightly superfluous at first. Clearly this was a place where the mother is honored and supported, doula or not, and they had been laboring for an hour here together, getting their rhythm. I was coming in late to the party. But S wanted me there, so there I was. I had to find my rhythm, too. I put a cool rag on her head. I gave her a drink of water. I reminded her to breathe slowly and deeply. Keep her sounds low and deep. Rest between. Quietly, somewhat tentatively, reverently, I melted into her labor dance as best as I could, reminding myself this was not about me.

An hour floated by in labor land. The nurse checked her, the midwife encouraged her to push. She did. The baby's heart rate began dropping. Without making it too much of a deal, they quickly got her out of the tub and into the bed to better be able to monitor the baby and make sure he was safe if he needed extra help when he was born. After several more contractions, the heart rate was much better and the air of tension lifted from the midwife and nurse. S said she doesn't want to push so hard because it feel like she has to poop. Me, the midwife and the nurse all say pretty much the same thing using different words, all at once, "Perfect! That's exactly what you should be feeling! The baby's right there!"

S was exhausted. She'd barely slept since Tuesday night and it was now Friday morning. Each push is a battle for her. A and I have to hold her legs, put her hands on her knees, remind her to work her hardest. She needs the midwife to tell her when a contraction is building and tell her it is time. She is so tired. I massage her hand between each contraction. S asks us to shake her hips between contractions to relieve some of the pressure. I gently pressed my hand on her forehead and whisper "relax...rest...breathe...that one is done, you never have to do it again." And another one rolls around, builds, peaks, disappears. Relax, breathe, rest, let it go. A started to tell me about the last two days and nights. S said "Baby, please stop talking. I just want to get this done." A smiled at me and stopped talking. She pushed through another contraction and another and another. The baby starts to move down, decisively. He stays down, we see the hair, the head...and more head and more head. This baby's head is a perfect, long cylinder! S says "the pressure...there is just so much pressure". One more push, the midwife says, almost there. I can actually see the baby rotate as he comes out. He was trying to get out sideways, but turned at the last possible second to come out the right way. I am in awe. There is a picture of S in the throes of a contraction, the baby's beautiful little cone head 90% out, me, holding her leg, smiling like a complete dope. I am amazed by this woman, this baby, this birth.

The head comes out. The baby seems to be stuck. The midwives seems to be yanking, pulling, twisting to get this child out. S is pushing with all her might. The contraction is over, she says "I can't, I just need to rest. Can I wait for the next one?" She does, the baby is still not out. She pushes, the midwife pulls, the baby is born. He is purple and silent.

Oxygen, rubbing, oxygen. Closed eyes. Silent. The nurse is telling S to talk to her baby, let him hear her voice, as the midwife resuscitates the tiny boy. She's looking at her watch, getting his heart rate. It feels like an eternity, though it may have only been one or possibly two minutes. And angry cry, a pink baby. All is well!

S holds her son. A sits by his wife. Kisses her head. They admire their boy. He latches on and nurses like a champ. I take pictures.

Amazing.

I was only with them for a little over two hours before the baby was born, so the form I was searching for frantically at 3:30 am was completely unnecessary anyway. They were almost as unprepared as I was and have no food for breakfast. I offered to go to Safeway to buy some yogurt and bananas for a snack. I do...and them in the parking lot at the birth center, I somehow manage to lock my bag, keys, phone and the food in my car. Nice.

I called Kevin at 7:30 am. He found my spare key by some merciful act of God, packed up both kids and drove the 40 minutes out the Arnold to rescue me. While I waited for him I had a cup of coffee, chatted with a remarkably chipper new mama, helped a little with breastfeeding, talked a bit about the birth and held the tiny boy after his newborn exam (6 lbs, 11 oz - so much smaller than either of mine!). They were a little at odds on the name, with A telling family one name and S smiling as she rolled her eyes and saying they would discuss it in the car.

When Kevin got there at around 8:45, I passed the bananas and yogurt on to the nurse to give to S (since now I had a hungry toddler in tow) and headed out to the car. Malcolm was groggy from an almost-nap, so I nursed him in the car and then headed home. I haven't stopped thinking of them since. I can't wait to hear the whole story of what transpired between Wednesday morning and Thursday night.

I think I could do a lot of this.

 

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