Morning—
It was Sunday, August 28th and only two days past my “due date.” The day started slow with all of us watching our church’s morning service on their livestream. What followed was a slow afternoon of tidying up and spending time together as a family.
4pm—
Around 4pm I started to feel some pains that I thought were contractions. At the time I wasn’t confident it was labor beginning, so I went into our office to be alone and focus on what my body was doing. For about an hour I used a contraction timer app to record the “sensations.” Each one was about 8-10 minutes apart, lasting for about 30 seconds with very mild intensity. Each one was manageable and I was having no issues talking through and between them.
6pm—
Near 6pm I texted my mom and my mother-in-law. “I think I’m in labor, but it might be too soon to be sure,” each message read. My mom called me immediately and we agreed that it was more than likely early labor. She was on her way over to pick up our older kids. My husband and I sat together packing up their bags while he reminisced on being in my children’s shoes; excited and incredibly eager to meet their newest sibling. Watching them parade down the hallway with smiles plastered to their face is one of my favorite memories from the day.
Not long after my mom arrived, my mother-in-law and sisters showed up at our house. They brought me dinner and we chatted for about an hour. After enjoying my “last supper” before giving birth, I retreated again to our office to be alone and focus on the sensations. They were undoubtedly contractions now, but they were still bearable. At this time, it was around 7:30pm. I spent the evening working on some office work and blog posts, figuring this was the last chance I would have to get anything done.
10pm—
For two hours or so I rocked back and forth in the swivel chair and hammered away at some work things. By now, the contractions were starting to grow in intensity, but they weren’t much closer together. Still about 7-10 minutes apart on average, still no trouble speaking through them even with the pain growing. Since it was getting late I was starting to get tired. I knew my best shot at delivering our son the way I dreamed would require me to get some rest. Around 10:30 I got into bed and I decided to wait another half-hour before I called the birth center.
At 11pm or so, I made the phone call to notify the on-call midwife that I was in labor. I was pleasantly surprised when MY midwife answered. Our relationship was very developed even in the short time we met with each other (I switched to the birth center at 30 weeks— just barely making the cutoff). Knowing she would be apart of my support team calmed any nerves I was feeling in the moment of that phone call.
After telling her about the timing and intensity of my contractions, we both agreed it was still far too soon for me to come to the birth center. She recommended that I get some rest while I continued to labor at home; and also that I could stop recording my contractions for a bit. Which is just what I did as I laid down in bed with The Office playing in the background.
12am—
There was no doubt that I was in the second stage of labor at this point. Between rocking and moaning (more like muffled hollering, actually), I struggled to get comfortable. I laid in bed with a pillow between my legs and did my best to calmly breathe through each contraction. I wanted to tense up, but I knew doing so wouldn’t help labor progress. Any sudden twinge would bring on another contraction and by now, they were tingling through my entire abdomen to the upper portion of my thighs. I was now afraid to go to the bathroom and pee (which if you weren’t aware, is something pregnant women do a lot in their third trimester) because sitting on the toilet brought on powerful, painful surges.
During one particularly brutal contraction I was having while lying in bed, my husband laid hands on me to pray. Asking God to be with me and us during this incredible event, as soon as he starting uttering the words, the intensity of the contraction subsided. Instead of a sharp, gnawing pain, it switched instantaneously to a dull, mild pain. Almost as if someone was heavily applying pressure to my abdomen from the outside, and then they eased up. We continued to welcome God into each moment, and we knew that He was with us. At this point we decided it was time to call the midwife again.
12:55am—
Through tears and strained breathing I called my midwife again and let her know things had really picked up. During the phone call, I had to focus on a contraction and knew I was getting close to delivery. I was losing all sense of the world around me. Since I had stopped timing my contractions hours ago, I thought they were further apart than they were. I said they were about 5 minutes…and soon realized, I had no business trying to gauge their duration on my own. My midwife urged me to stay home for a bit longer, and had a feeling we wouldn’t be heading to the facility until daybreak. Thankfully, my husband had been paying close attention.
I hung up the phone and went back to my room. There I relayed the message to him that according to what I had told the midwife, we still didn’t need to start packing up. He wasn’t convinced and instead of “taking my word for it”, he began to load our bags into the truck and get himself ready.
1:20am—
Several contractions hit during this time. As I laid there writhing in pain, deeply focused he asked, “was that the end of a contraction?” I nodded because speaking seemed too difficult at this point. He took out his phone and started a timer. About 90 seconds later I was screaming and howling again. Lovingly, but sternly, he asked for my phone (this part still makes me laugh because he was SO DONE with me and my “lack of judgment” LOL). When he tells the story, he often says, “I’ve seen Morgan give birth several times, and this didn’t sound like labor. It sounded a lot like BIRTH” (he was right, by the way).
While he called my midwife, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law carefully tended to me. They rubbed my back and got me a hot rice pack. Not long after Luke had left the room, I was asking for a bucket. I felt like I was going to explode from the nausea, and then, I puked. Transition had started and if we had waited any longer, we may have been delivering this baby in the truck or on the side of the highway. Somehow I managed to not only walk myself to the truck, but also texted our birth photographer (I know, I know…why Morgan? Lol).
1:35am—
The drive over was awful. Laboring in the car is one thing, but I could tell birth was imminent and every single bump that jostled me sent me into a contraction spiral. My husband was worried we wouldn’t make it to the birth center in time. That didn’t end up being the case.
We pulled in around 1:50 or so and started to hurry inside. My midwife asked to check the baby’s heart tones and we heard the strong heartbeat of my baby boy. Contractions were hard and heavy now and I was eager to get into the birth tub. Due to how long we waited to get in touch with our birth team though, the tub was not ready yet. “I want to be on the other side of this” I remember saying.
I waited in the bathroom and between sitting on the toilet and standing in the shower, I made it through a few more contractions while the tub was being filled. My husband, standing in front of me while I worked through a contraction in the shower looked visibly worried. “Are you okay?” he asked. To which I replied, “I kind of feel like I’m going to pass out. Just keep standing there in case I can’t hold myself up anymore.” I was so close to meeting my baby and my body was exhausted. It was moments after this that we were told the tub was ready.
2:05am —
Immediately upon entering the tub I felt relaxed, at ease, and fully suspended. The feeling of “passing out” was gone and I was fully in tune with everything happening within my body. I allowed myself to feel the surges, and to breathe deeply through them. This was a moment of sweet relief, just minutes before my baby would be in my arms.
Suddenly my water broke and another contraction came on. I was encouraged to get into a new position as I started to feel the urge to push. Moving from leaning back onto my husband to my hands and knees, I began pushing while hollering out my baby. Intensity I have a difficulty describing overcame me, but I felt so strong and capable at the same time.
After two pushes his head came out under the water. My husband said he looked as though he was asleep and unaware that he was even born yet. This moment of being in limbo between my baby being in the womb and being in my arms seemed to last a lifetime. Trying to focus on my contractions and my breathing, I pushed again and out his body came.
He was born into the water at 2:17am, and weighed 8 lbs, 4 oz (which was actually very surprising because at 39 weeks I was told to be measuring 3 weeks behind).
Enjoy these shots from my birth story, captured by Janet Catherine Photo!
