It was my third time. My hardest pregnancy. I begged and pleaded and prayed for another baby, my third within three years, a girl. We decided not to find out the baby’s sex, mostly because I selfishly wanted a daughter so badly that I was embarrassed of the guilt I’d likely feel if they told me anything different than what I wanted. It was the longest 30 weeks of my life. Yes…30. I didn’t deliver until 39, but I ended up caving and found out we were having a boy right around the 4th of July. Betcha all didn’t think I knew all that time that our mystery baby was HE, but it was super fun for us to keep it a surprise for everyone else up until his birthday! 😋 The truth is that I cried errr sobbed for about 24 full hours. And then I didn’t. This was also precisely when I stopped feeling around-the-clock nauseous. I felt light. And prepared. And all of a sudden, thankful. He was Atlas. And when I knew, he changed everything. My head space was yearning for a daughter badly. My heart needed HIM. Once I knew, there was so much more space. More space for truth. More space for loving him, my sweet son.
Around 37.5 weeks my physical body began to beg for the end. Three pregnancies in three years is a lot. In the past, I had rushed my healing to get back on my mat, back to my life, ready to keep growing my family. I didn’t have a plan. I never returned to my pre-pregnancy weight. I didn’t get super stoked to enjoy the vodka soda or things I’d given up in order to grow my babies. I never returned to feeling good and healthy, and my body resented me for it this time around. I delivered my other two boys late at 41 weeks, but when my midwives offered to induce me early at 39, I took the bait.
It was my plan this time around to get the pitocin & if my contractions progressed labor with no big issues, they could ween me off and I could hop in the tub and spend the rest of my labor in the water. I had planned to deliver in the tub, too. The reality: I ended up with a balloon catheter to help with dilation and pitocin on top of that. Things took a big turn when back labor took over. For awhile, I muscled through the pain. I wanted to be able to freely move around the room, but I could tell that my body was tightening and tense with each contraction; I wasn’t riding the waves, and my mind was holding me back. I felt best standing beside my bed with my palms pushing into the mattress and Matt standing behind me putting pressure on my hips and low back with his hands. In the breathing space between contractions, Matt would hold my hips and we would sway back and forth and it felt amazing. Then another contraction. A back labor contraction. Has anyone experienced back labor before? At one point I screamed out, “I swear to god this baby is going to come out of my butthole this time. Do you hear me?! MY BUTTHOLE! Why does it feeeeeeeeel like this?!” But we kept at it and danced on with hopes that the balloon would fall out of me and I’d be able to get in the tub. But it never did.
After awhile of this, my mind betrayed me. The balloon came out, they broke my waters, and I asked for an epidural. And after that, it was a happy walk in the park of quick labor, 15 minutes of pushing, and the arrival of the best thing that’s happened for our family: my three boys. I did lose some blood at delivery and ended up fainting in the bathroom not long after he was born, but the scare quickly faded away and newborn bliss awaited. The creamy vernix coating his teeny body. The little white dots on his nose. The way he nestled up into my neck like he was made for that spot exactly. Atlas, you are love & we are forever grateful that you’re here and you’re you and you chose us!
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