Olivia's Birth Story

It's been awhile, but here is Olivia's Birth Story!

We found out I was pregnant back in early March, with a due date of 11 November. I'm not one to just sit back and do nothing with any change in my life (especially one this big), so I took it upon myself to become as educated and prepared as possible. I wanted to know what my options were. Honestly, when I first found out I was pregnant, I thought I would be the "give me the drugs, I don't want to feel a thing" type woman, but the more I read and the more I learned, the more I realized how crunchy I really was.


My husband and I found a fantastic natural childbirth class that gave us the tools we needed to make the choices we wanted in a birth. Being in the military, I hadn't really put much thought into where I would deliver, but as time went on, I realized that I didn't want a hospital birth.


Unfortunately, I felt it was too late in the pregnancy (I was like 30 weeks) to figure out a different plan and be able to afford it. My husband and I went back and forth between doing an unassisted home birth and doing the hospital birth on base so often. We would talk things out. Pros, cons. Finally, we decided that we would still deliver on base, but just labor as long as possible at home with our doula. I thought I would get through early labor, start active labor, and trust my doula to let me know when a good time to go to the hospital would be for transition and pushing. It's funny how you try to plan how things will go during a birth, especially your first....

So, fast forward to 8 November, midnight. I wake up because I thought I heard my cat in the bathroom getting into something she shouldn't, but when I go in the bathroom, the cat is just sitting, watching me. Confused, I start to walk back to the bedroom, but then I feel it. Wet. Did I just pee myself? I squeeze, it stops. I jump into the shower anyways to let the rest of it go. It's clear, with some white specks in it and doesn't smell like pee. "I think my water just broke," I told my husband. After a phone call to my doula, she confirms that my water broke and told me to get some rest, as contractions would most likely follow.

Lying in bed, however, is not pleasant. These contractions feel way different from the Braxton Hicks I'd been having recently. They're lower, where I've read they should be. Wanting to try out a different position to help with the contractions, I go upstairs to the recliner and try sleeping in that. Impossible. So, I start timing them to the best of my ability. Are they really six minutes apart? Maybe I just need to rest instead of worrying about timing them. Still impossible. My mind is going crazy! If this is early labor, and it's only supposed to get worse and worse from here, there is NO way I can go through with this without drugs.

I head downstairs and call my doula. It's 2:46am. She's on the phone with me through a couple of contractions to time them for me. Two minutes apart. I bounce on the edge of the bed as it seems to help and soon find myself in the stand-up shower, letting the hot water run on my lower back. I sway my hips side to side and try to just breathe through this intensity my body is going through. My doula shows up and holds my hands as I lean half out the open shower door.


"My mind feels too clear," I tell her, "I mean, I don't want to pet my cat or anything, but I feel too clear-headed for this." She laughs. The cat-petting thing is a reference to a story she told us about a client she had who would pet her cats in between contractions, a sign that she wasn't in hard-active labor just yet. "Have you tried getting in the tub yet?" she asks. I tell her no and that if this was early labor, I knew getting in a warm, relaxing bath could slow things down and make it a bit harder to progress through labor how my body needed to. "I REALLY think you should get in the tub," she insists. (I don't know this at the time, but my body skipped early labor completely and just went straight into hard, active labor.)

I'm in the tub and things are still really intense. The warm water definitely helps to relax me, but doesn't slow anything down by any means. I'm vocal, but low and mellow instead of high-pitched and screechy. My mom says I was singing, but I was just trying to keep things under control with my vocalization. Anytime I caught myself saying something negative, I would turn right around and say something positive. I wouldn't let any negative thoughts stay in my head. 

"This is awful. This is the best. This is the best. *growl*" --a quote from the notes my husband took.

Soon, I started feeling the urge to bear down.

"What do I do?" I asked my doula. "Do whatever feels right," she replies. "Nothing feels right!"

She had me try some different birthing positions to get my hips open as wide as I could. I found one that suited me, even though my husband said I looked uncomfortably squeezed into the cramped little area by the faucet. But, it was perfect. Pushing calms me. I realize that I'm quiet, focused. My doula tells me to push with the contractions, and I do just that. I keep my hand down at the baby door to feel how things are going. I can feel her head and it's pretty close! When asked how far in she is, I hold my thumb to the area between the first and second knuckle of my index finger. As calming as it is to be pushing, I still feel like I'm holding myself back, so I start counting to ten during pushes. Soon, I feel her hair! It's flowy, downy, and soft. My husband wants to feel, but there's only a small window of opportunity where I will let him and he doesn't quite make it.

My mom is trying to keep the fragile balance between helping me and staying out of the way. I feel her love as she scurries around making sure I have everything I need. Olivia is coming and I threaten to ground her---See, I can be funny even during childbirth!

Olivia is crowning and I know that I can get her out whenever I'm ready. One or two pushes, max.

"Mom, sit down. You're about to have a granddaughter." She says something, and tries to go somewhere, but I sternly tell her again, "Mom! Sit down! You're about to have a granddaughter! Where is Michael?" "He's making tea." "Now is not the time to be making tea!!"

Michael comes into the bathroom and gets ready to catch our daughter. I push, still in this state of calm and peace. Her head comes out and daddy says he can feel her cute little face. One arm, then the other, and with one final push, the rest of her body slides out. 5:36 in the morning. Michael puts her on my chest and she's the most amazing little thing I've ever seen. I haven't been around many newborns in my life, but I can tell she's a big, healthy baby. She's not crying, but incredibly alert and active. Our doula tells us to talk to her and, though nothing's wrong, to try to get her crying so she can have that first big breath.

We're transfered to the futon in the spare bedroom and wrapped so snuggly in warm blankets. She starts to cry and it's so hard to believe that this amazing little girl is finally here with us! Best of all, we're in the comforts of our own home with people that we trust.

Now, I know people say that you immediately forget about all the pain of childbirth when you see your baby, but I think those are the people that get some kind of intervention, because shit! I'm still having those awful (err, wonderful) contractions..... My body is pushing out the placenta and it is NOT pleasant. Michael has a tupperware ready for it, and with one quick push, it lands right in. Our doula checks the placenta for any missing pieces and me for tearing, but the placenta is whole and I haven't torn, so she leaves us alone. My mom is taking pictures of our first moments together as a family of three and I could not be more proud and happy.

I'm finally ready to go downstairs to bed. Olivia will need a good, long sleep, and so will we!

After we all wake up, we decide to go to the hospital. I'm not anxious to go, but I'm definitely curious as to how much she weighs. We get her dressed, load her up in the car seat, and head to the hospital. When we walk into Labor & Delivery, they laugh when we announce that we had our baby and are here for the "business" part because they think we're joking.

Olivia is weighed, measured, and hooked up to some machine that checks her heart rate and temperature. She's 8 pounds, 14 ounces! Heck yes! 21 1/4 inches, and doing perfectly. She has her first poop in the bright green cloth diaper we put on her at home. Meconium is some serious stuff! I have to sign some paper saying that I'm refusing treatment when I don't want them to put some kind of goo on her eyes. "What is the reason you put that on her eyes?" "To prevent infection from Chlamydia and Gonorrhea." "Okay, well, I don't have either, so we don't need it." They fight me a little more on it, but when I, again, tell them that it's not necessary, seeing as how the only reason they have for using it is to prevent spreading two diseases I don't have, it's not warranted.

My heart drops when they tell us that they want to keep her at the hospital for observation---48 hours! I was not prepared for that. They say something about me not having to stay if I didn't want to. Seriously? You're delirious if you think I'm leaving my 9-hour baby alone at a hospital for two days without me. The two days go by faster than I had imagined. Forget the Kindle I brought, forget the T.V. in the room, our entertainment was caring for and watching this beautiful baby girl. They release us early, because everything is going so well and there's absolutely nothing wrong with her. Yay! Time to go back home, where we belong!

Funny how the only time our family was ever stressed or unhappy was when we were at the hospital. Definitely makes me glad that we had our home birth, as risky as it was in hindsight. Next time, though, we're going to be even more prepared and plan for the birth we want from the get-go. If I remember anything else, I'll add it in, but I just wanted to get this story finished while it's still fresh in my head.

Oh, and I've heard that some women miss being pregnant after they have their baby, but I most definitely do not! I never hit the "I don't want to be pregnant anymore" wall during pregnancy, but I definitely hit it afterwards. "Ugh, I don't want to be pregnant anymore.... Yes! I'm not!"