How Martha Was Born
The short story: Martha was born on Saturday, August 6, 2005 at 5:40 a.m. She was 8 lbs, 10 oz., and 22 inches long. After laboring for 3 hours at home, and the hospital a total of 30 minutes, God blessed us with a second healthy, beautiful, and altogether wonderful baby girl.
The long story: My second pregnancy was much like the first--largely uneventful. The only major difference was the fact that my final months coincided with the deep, dank, hot months of summer. Thank God for air conditioning. The hot muggy weather made it harder for me to get outside and walk as much as I did with my first pregnancy and I think that contributed to me feeling more uncomfortable in general towards the end. I also had quite a bit more swelling in my toes, feet, ankles, and calves this time around. All of which is to say that I was very ready to have this baby, but since Adeline was nine days overdue [read Addie's birth story] I tried to stay realistic in thinking baby number 2 would be at least a week late as well. It didn't really work--I was still very ready to have the baby.
For the week before Martha came I had pre-labor on and off. This included nausea and Braxton-Hicks contractions, sometimes pretty constant for over an hour. But they always went away. On Friday, August 5 I had a doctor's appointment and was 3 cm dilated, 75% effaced, and the head was in 0 or even +1 station. So she was on her way out (a reminder to all that pre-labor is labor--it is doing stuff in there!).
That night Kevin had a gig and didn't get back home until 11:00 p.m. or so. We went to bed around midnight but I couldn't get comfortable. I dozed a little on and off, but mostly alternated between shifting around in the bed and going to the bathroom. Around 2:00 a.m. I admitted that the uncomfortable sensations were indeed contractions and that they were getting more intense and not going away. Just to be sure I got up and took a walk around the block (oh what I would give for a video of me, in my nonmaternity pajamas—belly protruding—cruising the neighborhood in the middle of the night in active labor). I was definitely in labor, but could walk through the contractions. After I got back to the house I sat on the labor ball during the contractions and tried to sleep a little on the couch as the contractions were still around 10 minutes apart, although they were getting stronger. Around 3:00 a.m. I woke up Kevin and told him I thought this was it. He wanted to immediately call Suzanna (our babysitter for Adeline while we went to the hospital) but I said there was no rush, this could take awhile. So instead Kevin ran to Wal-Mart as we realized we didn't have any wristwatch in the house with a second hand with which to time contractions (yes it's true). After he left I worked on getting the final items needed for our hospital bags together. Contractions were strong but I was able to walk through them if I really made myself.
At 3:30 Kevin was back and timed my contractions—they were 3 minutes apart. He again suggested calling Suzanna. I said, "Pretty soon, but I don't want to wake her before it's necessary." I got in the shower and Kevin finished getting our bags together.
At 4:00 Kevin insisted that I call Suzanna. I did, telling her that there wasn't a great rush. She said she'd be there as quick as she could and thank God she had the foresight to hurry. By 4:30 I was sitting at the kitchen table shuddering and moaning through every contraction. Kevin wanted to leave for the hospital and so did I, but Suzanna wasn't there yet (she lives 45 minutes from our house). When Suzanna finally arrived at 5:00 I was sitting in the car.
On the way to the hospital I told Kevin I had the urge to push. You can imagine the firm, but panicked, orders Kevin gave me to not "have this baby in the car!" I didn't. We were at the hospital in about 7 minutes and Kevin dropped me off at the emergency room as I could not walk during a contraction anymore and they were coming pretty close together. As I desperately hung onto the admitting window the woman behind the desk quickly called for an orderly with a wheelchair saying "We have a woman here who is pretty obviously in labor." I liked the "pretty obvious" part. Kevin went to park the car. I moaned, grunted, and groaned all the way up to the labor and delivery. I can only imagine what the poor orderly thought of me, but they probably see it all the time.
At this point I was having a very pronounced urge to push and was really hoping that the baby wasn't born just any old where. I tried to communicate this to the various staff by saying "I'm pushing" thinking this would really speed up the process and get me whisked onto a delivery table first thing. No such luck. In response to "I'm pushing" the favorite answer seemed to be "Oh no, not yet." Like I had any choice in the matter. They wanted to get a monitor strip reading, start an IV and get a urine sample. By this time Kevin was back by my side (in record time I might add) and we were both flabbergasted when they handed me the little urine cup. Kevin started to protest, but I just lurched off toward the bathroom. My water broke on the toilet and I happily imagined handing the nurse the cup full of all that liquid and telling her to get her little reading from that. But I didn't. Actually I can't remember what happened to the cup. Sometime during this admitting time I was given hospital gowns to put on. I knew that I only had a short time between contractions in which to do anything besides pant, groan, moan, and try not to birth my baby on the floor, so I remember just ripping off my clothes as soon as the next contraction ended, regardless of the fact that two male doctors/nurses/something were entering the curtained area at that moment. When they said you lose modesty in advanced labor they weren't kidding.
Finally I was on a table (though not a delivery one) and a nurse came to start an IV. Kevin suggested that perhaps we should wait on that and someone could check my dilation status. They did and said, to no one's surprise at this point, "She's ten, let's go." I have to say that the first thing that came into my mind was "Oh no, how am I going to walk down the hall to give birth? I can't move, I can't do anything." But I didn't have to. They wheeled a bed in and just hoisted me over on it.
The next few minutes were a blur. I do remember Kevin handing out our birth plan to everyone, which I found humorous even at the time. We got to the hospital at 5:10 a.m. Martha was born at 5:40. My doctor didn't get there in time to catch the baby, but a very nice, if not slightly terrified-looking, resident did. They didn't give me Martha right away because she came so fast and they wanted to make sure her lungs were okay—or something. But when I was finally holding her (after 15 minutes or so) I couldn't believe that only six hours ago I had no idea this was her day to meet the world.
UK Hospital lets you keep the baby for up to two hours before taking them to the nursery (but then they keep them for 4 hours! I had to go hunt my baby down). I'm proud of the fact that after the 2 hours I walked Martha to the nursery myself and all the nurses said this was the first time that had happened—usually the mother isn't able to yet.
In any case, what I learned from this experience: Go to the hospital earlier than you think the second time. It all goes much faster!