Fable's Story.

I finally got around to writing this last week but before I could post it, I got distracted by life...and a toddler with hand, foot and mouth disease...and mastitis...and a UTI...and forgot my login info for this blog (because, as you can see, I only log in once every 20ish months to write a birth story apparently). I think these are the types of things that the hip moms are calling #momlife. Without further ado, I bring you an unedited, non-spell checked , copy/pasted instagram photos version of Fable's story. It's a little bit messy, a little bit rushed but seeped in so much grace and beauty. Sort of like life lately. I wouldn't trade it.

Fable Grace Schallert

12 June 2016

7:49pm

9lbs 4oz 20in

Sitting here trying to recall every detail of the past eleven days since Fable’s arrival I am stopped in my tracks with gratitude for her life and the privilege of raising her. And for raising sisters. And for raising siblings. From the first time they met it was as if they were just waiting for each other, as if they had always belonged to each other. I expected toddler tantrums and a learning curve and hints of jealousy but so far, it’s been joy and adoration and the occasional fight about whose turn it is to snuggle her.

Piling peace offerings for baby sister high. And he's convinced that he is pushing this electric swing.

Sister love.

The plan this time was to give birth at a hospital attended by the midwives who were present for Margot’s delivery. Because Vera and Desmond were born at home and we had grandparents in town to care for our other children during labor and delivery, the plan this time around came with a tiny bit of anxiety. Our incredible friend, Alissa, had volunteered to be “on call” to watch our kids. Because Desmond’s labor was only about two hours long and because the hospital is about an hour drive from where we live, I spent the week before Fable arrived counting prodromal contractions all night long so that I would be sure to have time to call Alissa (who has two kids of her own!) and make it to the hospital in time. I have heard stories of women giving birth in their cars on the way to this particular hospital and I didn’t want to be one of those women (even though a friend who has eight kids gave me a pep talk about how a car birth could be “cozy”). 

I was convinced that the stop and go contractions were because the baby’s head wasn’t yet engaged. I went to the chiropractor and got adjusted. On the day after my “due date” I had some bloody show in the morning and some more intense contractions that didn’t have a consistent pattern. The closest ones were about 15 minutes apart. I told Steve that I wanted to rest and then changed my mind and decided to go for a walk with the whole family. We got coffee and walked around downtown by the pier. I still wasn’t feeling consistent contractions but was really uncomfortable and tired. At this point I was wondering if everything was OK with the baby. Probably because of my experience with a negative OB on the day that Desmond was born, but I sort of had it in my mind that there may be some complications. One of my friends texted me that she had contractions 15 minutes apart with her fourth baby. I decided to call my midwife just to talk to her. She said that it sounded to her like I was in labor and that I should come in.

It was around 3pm. We called Alissa and I did some cleaning, threw some last minute stuff into a bag for the hospital, played a bit with the kids…all while sweating profusely. “Sweating is a good sign!” Steve encouraged. He’s a good one. 

As we drove to the hospital, I still felt really normal. My mind was clear. My body felt fine. I was having occasional contractions but wasn’t convinced it was real labor. Steve and I talked about how it kind of felt like we were going on a date. When we arrived at the hospital it was starting to rain and I remember feeling so happy that I had the opportunity to wear a sweater I had brought. 

As we walked down the hallway to the birthing unit I had a contraction that felt “real”. I said to Steve jokingly, “I’m not leaving here until I have this baby, even if it takes a week”. We arrived at the birthing unit and were greeted by Akiko, an amazing nurse who was present at Margot’s delivery, and two other nurses. They didn’t have a lot of patients at the time so were all eager to help us. Around 4pm they started out with a non-stress test. Steve and I sort of expected them to do the NST and then send us home but as they were doing it, I soon was handed a hospital gown and a patient bracelet was put on my wrist. “Wait, are we staying here?” I asked Akiko. “Yeah, you’re gonna have a baby” she replied. Obviously it was going to be a long haul since I wasn’t even feeling laborish yet so I sent Steve out to get dinner for himself. In the 15 minutes he was gone I had a few contractions but they weren’t very intense so during the last two I did some squats to try to speed things up. On the third contraction while I was sumo squatting, I thought I peed on the floor. I wiped it up with a chucks pad and just keep walking around. Then I realized, oh, I’m in labor so maybe my water broke. I called the nurse and sure enough my water had broken. I texted Steve and he came back to the hospital. I was a little bit caught off guard because I still felt so clear-minded and even though I was having more contractions, they seemed slow and steady instead of getting closer together and increasing in intensity. I wanted to go home. Even though the birthing unit at the hospital is set up to feel “homey”, I wasn’t as relaxed as I wanted to be because of the monitors and the hospital bed and the fact that the sun was still shining. I wanted it dark and cozy. So, I basically just walked around twiddling my thumbs for a while. I told Steve I was bored. A few days later he told me that he was convinced (and a little scared) that it might be a few days before the baby was born because of how calm I was. Because I was squatting through contractions to try to move things along, Akiko asked if I would like to use a birthing stool. I had never used one but decided to give it a try. For those who aren’t familiar with a birthing stool, imagine sitting on a toilet without the bowl. The intensity of the contractions was increasing. Pat, the midwife who had also attended Margot’s delivery, showed up and that confused me also. It seemed a bit early for her to be there. As with all of my labors, I wanted to be standing, or upright on the birthing stool, not laying down. But because of the position that the baby was in, Pat had me lie on my left side through a few contractions so that the baby could spin into position for birth. As I was laying there, Pat said, “wow these contractions aren’t coming very quickly, huh?’ I started to feel like it was time to push exactly one minute before shift change. I apologized to the nurses for getting so active at shift change and they laughed at me. As the new nurses came in, Steve later told me that everyone thought I was dozing in and out of sleep but I really was just closing my eyes because I didn’t feel like meeting new people right then. After a little while the baby had turned into position and I got out of bed. I sat back on the birthing stool and was telling Pat a story about South Africa. I took a breath, put up a “wait a minute finger” and bore down and made a primal noise somewhere between a groan and a yell and pushed once. ONCE. Here’s my shock and denial moment. Pat said, “the baby’s head is born, exhale” I exhaled and reached down to catch Fable. As I brought her to my chest, I gave Steve the “what the heck” look, got up and walked over to the bed. Delivered the placenta with one more push and that was it. It was an incredible birth experience that I am so grateful for. Getting to know her has been a dream. And just like we prayed and friends assured me would happen, it's felt like she was here all along. It feels like our hearts have always known each other and our bodies and minds are just catching up. 

A bit shocked immediately after she was born.

Falling in love with his littlest daughter.

It was always you, little Fable Grace.

One week old.

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Desmond's Story.

I kept starting and re-starting as I tried to tell this story. I wasn’t sure where to begin because there is so much wrapped up into it- a year of struggle and searching and figuring out who I am as a mother. A year that could have been smooth sailing but when fear crept in felt stormy. Desmond’s birth feels like the culmination of one of the most challenging seasons of my life. He came so peacefully and quelled my fears.

Like my previous pregnancies, I was convinced that I would go into labor before 40 weeks. And like my previous pregnancies, my due date came and went. I was planning another home birth with the midwives who delivered Vera. Their group works closely with the doctors at a private (as opposed to government) hospital here in South Africa and the patients are required to choose a backup Obstetrician in the event that a hospital birth is necessary. Routinely, I saw the backup OB around 30 weeks and at the time, the baby’s heart was skipping beats so I ended up seeing her several more times. Anxiety crept in and I began to worry. She sent us to see a specialist and a neonatal cardiologist who both confirmed with confidence that the baby’s heart was perfect and functioning as it should. 

At the next routine OB appointment (36 weeks) she did an ultrasound where she raised some red flags about the size of the baby. She had said said similar things about Vera when I was about 36 weeks pregnant with her and V ended up being almost a pound smaller than her big sister. So, I brushed it off. Ultrasound measurements aren’t usually accurate that late in a pregnancy anyway. I expected to have the baby before I would have to see her again at 41 weeks…but 41 weeks rolled around and I was still pregnant. I got desperate- The OB had mentioned that if I went overdue she would not be able to recommend a home birth. I was feeling vulnerable and a bit fearful of giving birth in the hospital here. So, I decided to try the only natural labor inducing remedy that I hadn’t tried before- castor oil. I should have done more research before slugging it back because after two days of consistent (painless but intense) contractions my midwife informed me that I would have to have taken the whole bottle (500ml) for the castor oil to have enough of a shock to my body to put me into labor. 

Because I was past due, I needed to see my midwives for a CGT (fetal assessment) and the backup OB again for another checkup and ultrasound. During the CGT the baby’s heart sounded perfect and I was having some contractions. The next day I saw the backup OB again. My appointment was at 12:30 and we expected it to be fairly quick. As the OB did the ultrasound, the measurements were calculating that the baby was over 5KG (11lb). I was trying not to freak out despite the anxiety and stress in the tone of the OB. Because I was eager to deliver at home and it was my third baby, instead of jumping the gun and saying I needed to be induced or deliver in hospital right away, she decided to call a colleague for a second ultrasound and opinion. She sent us down to the hospital’s coffee shop to wait until her colleague could see us. While we were in the coffee shop we ran into Glynnis, one of my midwives, who was at the hospital to deliver another baby. She had a few minutes to sit and chat with us about our stressful meeting with the OB. She spoke with the OB and they came up with a plan that if I didn’t go into labor that evening (Friday) that I would come to the hospital first thing Saturday morning for my midwives to break my water and deliver the baby at the hospital. We also discussed that if I did go into labor that night and was having a long second stage that we would go to the hospital to deliver there. Glynnis told us to come and see her in labor and delivery after our second ultrasound before we left the hospital.  Of course we didn't want to risk shoulder dystocia or putting our baby at risk in any way. We trusted our midwife and were happy with the plan. As we walked the grounds of the hospital (and ended up at a strange park that we later found out was a walking trail for horses) I was having contractions that I was trying to ignore. I was feeling a bit disempowered and was convinced that I wouldn’t go into labor before they broke my water in the morning. We went back up to the OB offices to have the second ultrasound with another OB. He too said the baby was measuring quite big and advised against a home birth. We went back down to labor and delivery to see Glynnis and were making a plan to get the kids settled in at Omi and Opa’s (Steve’s parents who were visiting and helping us look after Margot and Vera)  and for what to pack in a hospital bag. Glynnis said that she wanted to check to see if I was dilated at all before we left and when she checked, to my surprise, I was dilated to 7cm. I was still in a really strange headspace after the appointments and 5 hours at the hospital so when she said, “rush home to have this baby!” I half thought that she was joking. By the time we pulled out of the hospital parking lot and were sitting in stop and go rush hour traffic, I was having intense contractions. When Steve went over a speed bump I looked him in the eyes and said, “don’t ever do that again”. He fist pumped the air and said, “yes! we are in the zone!”, celebrating that fact that I was in labor. As we got close to home another midwife, Susan, called me and asked if we had arrived at home yet. I told her that we were still in traffic and she asked that I call her when we arrived at home so that she could come over. I hung up the phone a bit bewildered and said to Steve, “um, I think Susan thinks that I am actually in labor”. He called me crazy, told me that I WAS in labor and that everyone except me believed it. As we pulled into Muizenberg (the town where we live) we decided to park our van a few blocks from home at the flat where Steve’s parents were staying so that they would have it (we had another smaller car at home). We walked home pulling our “just in case we need to stay at the hospital bag” (which was more of a security blanket to help me feel prepared that day since it didn’t actually have anything that we really needed for a hospital birth in it) behind us. We ran into some YWAM friends, one of whom said, “still pregnant!” I told her, “I think we are going to have the baby now” and kept walking. We arrived home and called Susan. Steve left to go over to his parents flat and tuck the kids into bed. As Susan set up everything for the birth I was in complete denial. I remember sitting on the couch hiding behind my phone thinking, “Susan is just going to have to pack all of this stuff back up”. and even though I felt totally comfortable with Susan, I was avoiding her-unconvinced that “this” was actually happening. Susan asked when Steve would be coming back home and because we thought that we had more time, I said “about 45 minutes”. Susan checked my dilation, said, “I think we should break your water so that you can have your baby now.” (it had broken spontaneously with my other two labors) because I was still at 7cm and the baby’s head wasn’t engaged yet. After she broke my water she said, “tell Steve to come home right now” (about 6:45PM). She spoke with urgency but I was still thinking we had a long while to go. In my previous labors I wanted to be completely alone, to pace and contract in peace. This time, still so unsure and lacking confidence, I wanted Steve right by my side the whole time. I stood at the island in the kitchen and rocked my hips back and forth as Steve put a cold washcloth on my neck. I felt like that sturdy kitchen island was keeping me grounded. A second midwife, Juliet, arrived (standard practice as it gets close to the time that baby will be born) and I started to believe I was actually going to have the baby. To my surprise (yes, still in shock), very shortly after Juliet arrived I felt the urge to “bear down” and we moved to the bedroom. The baby’s head was still high and so I squatted as I pushed, Steve supporting me with his arms. It took me a while to “remember” how to push and even as I did it, I could feel myself shrinking away from the process. I was asking Susan questions like, “Am I doing this right? Am I actually pushing?” I was holding back, still afraid of being rushed to the hospital mid-labor and needing a c-section. Susan’s phone rang in the other room and Juliet went to answer it. t was Glynnis and I heard Juliet say, “she is pushing- baby will be here very soon!” I remember thinking, “if Juliet is telling Glynnis then it must be true!” As my thoughts drifted, Susan called me back and said that the baby was crowning. As with all three of my deliveries I had a “What the hell?!?!” moment when I realized that I was actually giving birth. My confidence arrived (finally!) and one push later the baby was in my arms. Steve and I both immediately said, “he looks like Vera!” Our baby boy, nine days past due (but covered in more vernix than either midwife had seen on an overdue baby) arrived with ease and peace. And just like that, we are five. Desmond Reverie has only been in our lives for eleven days but I can’t remember life without him.

le petite prince.

Desmond: gracious defender (and a nod to Tutu, social peace activist and retired archbishop of the Anglican church of South Africa)

Reverie: an instrumental piece suggesting a dreamy or musing state

wynken, blynken and nod.

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Vera's Story.

I was sure she would come early. Everyone was. My midwife bet on it. And then, 37 weeks...38...39...40. On my due date we decided to have a family day. Just the three of us while there was still only three of us. We went to the aquarium. We played at the park. We got frozen yogurt. No signs of labor. Nothin’. But I needed that day. I needed to intentionally take the time to be “just three” and I think Margot needed it to say goodbye to being the only “one”. Vera let us have our special day and then...

The next morning around 4am I started having consistent contractions. They weren’t painful or bothersome, just 5 minutes apart and lasting about a minute. I had contractions like these when my labor started with Margot, which landed me at the birthing center at 4am only to be told I wasn’t in labor and sent home. So, I tried to pretend that they weren’t so regular. I tried to sleep (yeah right).  A few hours later I lost my mucous plug (there is no eloquent way to phrase that. I tried ten times. But, this is a story about childbirth so I will just tell it like it is). I didn’t think much of it (still trying not to get my hopes up that this could be “the day”) since I had heard of people losing it and then not going into labor for a week. Since I was scheduled for a 40 week checkup that day, I called my midwife and told her about my contractions. She told me not to come in and that she was sure she would see my later that day. I wasn’t so sure. When Steve woke up I told him about my contractions and that if I didn’t go into “real” labor that day that I wanted to go for a pedicure. A few hours later I changed my mind and decided that I just wanted to stay home. He made me go. He said I should get out of the house, get my mind off of “things”. My mother-in-law and I went to get pedicures. The nail technicians asked when I was due. I told them I was in labor. They were astonished and told everyone who walked by that I was in labor. We came home and I tried to rest. I couldn’t rest. All I could think about was how this could be the last time that I had to have a tea party in Margot’s room while she was my only little girl. So, we had tea. She served me fake toast from her little wooden toaster and then she came and sat on my lap and put her hands on my belly and prayed the way that she prays. “praypraypray AMEN!”. Amen.

Around 6:30 I was having contractions that I couldn’t sit still for. I was pacing. So familiar. Steve looked at me and knew. He told me to call the midwife. Steve got Margot ready to have her first sleep over at Omi and Opa’s house (his parents) who were visiting us in South Africa and staying about 5 minutes away. Margot was stoked. She gave me a kiss, shouted “bye Mama!!!” and walked out the door. It was like she went from baby to “big kid” in a matter of moments.

My midwife, Ciska, came over and I walked down our huge flight of stairs to answer the door. On my way back up the stairs I thought, “there is NO way I am in actual labor right now doing these stairs so fast”. Ciska made a joke about how her husband told her she had a 2am curfew and we laughed. She checked my dilation and I was at 4cm. I didn’t really know what to think about this since I wasn’t checked with Margot until right before I started pushing. Steve came home and went into baby mode. Ciska went out to get dinner. I was glad she did. I was so grateful to have time with just Steve. A moment to connect and realize “THIS is happening”. He set up the room for the birth (oh yeah, did I mention that we were planning a home birth?). I tried to rest. No way. I tried to sit. No way. I tried to lay down. No way. I paced and paced. So familiar. After a while I started to feel like I was actually in labor. The contractions were more intense that I remembered with Margot’s labor. I wasn’t sure that I could do it this time, my legs were so shaky. I kept asking Steve to breathe with me. (That man can breathe. He can exhale for ages. I think it’s why he is such a good singer). Ciska checked my dilation again and I was at 7cm. I took the hottest shower of my life and when I got out, things changed. “Transition” I think they call it. Another midwife, Lydia, showed up to assist. She introduced herself and I shook her hand and thought, “what a strange way to meet someone”. I was hot. I was cold. I was shaky. I wanted Steve to rub my back and then when he did I wanted him to stop. I felt out of my mind and present at the same time. This controlled madness is what happens before I have babies. I started to “bear down” and I couldn’t believe it was happening. I thought it was too soon to push. A few minutes later Ciska said something about breaking my waters and then they broke on their own. I was so shaky that I had to sit. With Steve by my side, in the same place that he was when Margot was born, I started to push. About a minute later I saw an entire head and yelled, “OH MY GOD, I am having a baby RIGHT NOW!”. I pushed for a total of ten minutes and the baby was born! Steve cut the cord and we just stared at each other and at our baby girl. It felt like she had always been part of us. I didn’t cry, I actually didn’t have much emotion at all. It felt so natural, so right. This little baby girl who slipped into our world in the quiet sanctuary of our bedroom. My heart had never felt so full. I took a bath with Vera and then nursed for a while. Ciska packed up her things and I jokingly told her to thank her husband for giving me a deadline, I work well under pressure. An hour later I was making myself food in the kitchen and then Vera slept almost the whole night. So many people prayed that this would be a labor and delivery marked by peace and it undoubtedly was.

The next morning Margot came home to meet her sister and couldn’t stop giggling. She knew it was baby Vera (or Wewa as she says).
And then, we were four.

 Vera means "faith". We wanted to continue the tradition of our kids middle names passing on a legacy and we chose "Lizz" after Steve's sister (Elizabeth meaning "God's promise") who is a feisty, hopeful woman in the midst of writing a powerful legacy into the world.

Welcome to the world, sweet Vera Lizz.

[Eight Days Old]

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Margot's Story.

Her due date came...and then it went. And the days kept on going. Every few hours I would Google “natural ways to induce labor”  and then I’d be walking up stairs, eating fresh pineapple until I no longer had taste buds, scrubbing floors...If there was a tip online that one day it had maybe helped someone go into labor, I tried it. Two days late. Acupressure. Three days. More pineapple. Lots of walking up and down hills. Squatting. Four days. Five days. Six days. Let’s just say, we tried everything.

And then finally! I had some “bloody show” and the contractions started. I waited a few hours to begin timing them so that I wouldn’t be disappointed if they were just Braxton Hicks. They were mild, but consistent. About 10 minutes apart and they just kept coming. They came all night long and began to get closer together. I was a bit disheartened at the fact that I was still in a great mood, talking, breathing normally. More pineapple. More walking. They were still mild but I was unable to sleep through them. Around 4am they had been consistently about 5-6 minutes apart and lasting over a minute in length. I began to think that I might actually be in labor. I told Steve (who was awake just long enough to move from our bed to the couch because I was in and out of bed every 5 minutes and had been keeping him awake) that I thought it might be time to call the midwife. He asked if I wanted to start timing the contractions first and I showed him on our “Baby Bump” app that I had been for hours. I called the midwife and was excited to find that one of my favorites from the birthing center was on call that night. She said that it sounded like I was in active labor and that I should come in. The birthing center is about 45 minutes from our home and on the way there the contractions were coming every 4 minutes. I was having to consciously breathe through them.

We arrived at the birthing center and I got admitted for a “non-stress test” to monitor the baby’s heart rate and the contractions. As soon as I was hooked up to the monitor the contractions stopped completely. The baby was not in any distress, which was a great sign, but it also looked like she wasn’t going to come anytime soon, which was disheartening. To top it off, the nurse told me, “you’re not in labor, you’ve just been having some irritations”. To call my contractions “irritations” was well, irritating to say the least. By this point I had not slept for 2 nights in a row. I was physically exhausted and had no words for the nurse. Steve later told me that I gave her a pretty mean glare when she acted like my contractions/irritations were no big deal. After a minute long sob-sesh in the hospital bathroom we were on our way back home where I was able to sleep for about 3 hours.


I was officially 1 week late and had a routinely scheduled “non-stress test” and amniotic fluid check at 1:45 that afternoon. Even though I had an NST earlier that morning, we were advised to keep the appointment. So, we headed back to Waimea. On the drive to Waimea, I started having contractions again but decided not to time them since I was convinced it was false labor anyway after the events of the morning. We arrived back at the birthing center and once again I got hooked up for the NST. The midwife informed me that she would be back to check on me in 20-30 minutes. As I lay on the exam table for the NST I could not stop telling Steve how badly I had to pee. I was hooked up to the monitor so I couldn’t get up. My biggest concern was that I was actually going to pee my pants on the table. And then....it happened. I had a really strong contraction and I peed my pants. At least that’s what I thought. And I was mortified. I told Steve and we laughed about it and then panic set in- and just as I was asking myself a million questions in my head, “how am I going to walk out of here?”, “why did I wear leggings???” (note: if you are going to pee your pants in public, leggings are probably the worst garment that you can do it in). “what am I going to tell the midwife?” the midwife came back in. She asked how I was doing and I responded sheepishly, “well, I am so sorry, but I peed on your table.” and then to lighten the awkward mood, I added, “or maybe my water broke!” She checked me out, informed me that my water did in fact break and that my contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart. Contractions? I had been so focused on walking through the waiting room with pee pants that I hadn’t even noticed the contractions. The midwife told me I could go on over to labor and delivery and asked if I wanted a wheel chair. “Nope, I’ll walk” I responded, because suddenly I did not care about my wet pants (Steve assured me that you couldn’t see that they were wet anyway, phew!)

After a quick-ish trip to admitting (where they had lost our pre-registration information), I was given a room and a gown in Labor and Delivery and told to “go for it”. By this time it was 4pm and since the contractions were still not extreme, I assumed and mentally prepared myself to be in labor for a really, really long time. When the hospital dinner came and it was a plate of heartburn (onions and peppers) I sent Steve out to get  avocado cucumber sushi rolls (my favorite food during pregnancy) and told him to take his time. I was, after all, going to be in labor for DAYS. By the time he returned, I was pacing the room and having intense contractions about every 2 minutes. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to smell food. I just wanted to pace. When a contraction would come, I would go into the dark bathroom until it was over and then come back out and pace again. I remember thinking, “I should moan through these” to take the advice of the doula who taught the natural childbirth class that we had taken months before. I consciously moaned through the next few and something about it just felt better than trying to stay quiet. From that point on I was in my own world. Labor land. When I would have a contraction, I would ask for Steve to come over and rub my lower back. When he would rub it, without the energy to ask him politely to stop, I would just signal for him to stop. Between each contraction I would think, “oh I should get some rest, I have a long night ahead of me” and so Steve would get the bed all ready for me to rest comfortably. As soon as I would sit down on the bed, another contraction would come and I would be out of the bed. pacing, asking Steve to raise it up as high as it would go so that I could lean forward on it. This pattern repeated about every 2 minutes for the next few hours. The contractions continued to intensify, but they were never to the point where I considered asking for pain medication.

Around 8pm the night shift nurse, Akiko, came in and introduced herself. She told me that if I felt the need to “bear down” like I was going to the bathroom to notify her. A little while later when I felt like pushing, I thought something was wrong. I asked Steve to get the nurse immediately and when she came in she checked my dilation (until this point, because my water broke, I hadn’t been checked at all). I was 8cm dilated and she told me that I could begin pushing. I was thinking, “pushing?! it can’t be time to push, I haven’t even had painful enough contractions for that yet!” and so, yet again, I prepared myself to be pushing for hours. DAYS, even. With this mindset, I sat down on the bed. My body seemingly went into autopilot and I just had to push.  Apparently L&D nurses and midwives can judge by a women’s moaning and groaning when she is ready to give birth because they all came into the room and before I knew it, the midwife, Patricia, and Steve were saying things that led me to believe that there was ACTUALLY a baby being born. Still a bit in denial, when the midwife told me to reach down and feel the baby’s head, I did so and then exclaimed, “Oh.My.God.” in disbelief. I remember the midwife saying, “wow, we hardly ever see haole babies with hair!” (Oh, Hawaii).  In between pushes, I asked Steve to put a cold washcloth on my head. He didn't hear me at first and I just remember thinking about how Michael Jackon named his son "Blanket" and pondered what life would be like if we named our baby "Washcloth". Back to reality. The midwife had been telling me things to help focus my pushing, like for me to imagine that I was pushing the baby up toward the ceiling. So, when she told me to put my hands out and catch my baby, I thought that she was meaning for me to imagine that as well. With my eyes closed, I leaned forward with my arms out and MUCH to my surprise, I suddenly had a baby in my arms. MY baby. I brought her to my chest, looked at Steve and exclaimed, “That was IT?!?!” in shock. The baby lifted her head and stared at Steve and just like that, we were three.

We said hello to our little Margot and told her that we loved her. The placenta was out a few minutes later with one push. The midwife congratulated me on “doing it just the way that I wanted to-with no drugs, no tearing and no episiotomy”. After the cord stopped pulsating, Steve cut it and then the baby breastfed for 45 minutes. She latched on and nursed like a champ. Still in shock, I felt like I needed to tell someone about what had just happened. Maybe then it would seem real. I called my parents and told them that she had arrived! I held up the phone to the baby so that they could hear her cry. After our phone call, Akiko and Steve weighed the baby and bathed her in the room. She was born at 11:15pm and weighed 8lbs 12oz, 20 inches. She was absolutely perfect.

Proud Daddy with Margot. (cell phone photo)

I was feeling great for a few hours after I delivered, but then started to feel really weak. Akiko informed me that I was losing an abnormal amount of blood and that she could not figure out why. She didn't want me to go far from the bed, so when I had to pee she brought over a bedside commode. As soon as I had shifted from bed to the commode I told her that I felt really dizzy. A few minutes later, I woke up surrounded by nurses and Patricia. "I think I passed out", I told them. I had indeed passed out and was still losing a concerning amount of blood for no apparent reason. I was a bit delirious at this point and there was talk of the possibility that my cervix had torn, which would require immediate surgery under anesthesia. An OB/GYN was called in to check me. As I lay in bed, delirious, I called to Steve who was across the room holding Margot and told him that "if I die, it's OK to give the baby a pacifier". Just as they were prepping me for surgery, the OB found the culprit of the bleeding- two tiny blood vessels had broken. They required one stitch each and the bleeding stopped immediately. By this point I had lost more than 3 pints of blood- more than a C-Section patient and was told that I would probably need a transfusion. Amazingly, my blood count results came back just above the level where I would need a blood transfusion. I was weak, but so relieved that I did not have to have surgery.

Steve was super-dad the whole time. For the few hours that I was passed out/delirious he held and rocked and sang to our baby girl. They needed each other during those few long and scary hours.

Despite the complications postpartum (which I don't remember clearly, anyway), my labor and delivery experience was an amazing one. God was so obviously in that delivery room with us and I am so thankful.

Margot- "precious pearl"
Day- For Dorothy Day, co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement

Margot Day- 1 Week Old

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