~~~some assembly required~~~

*some assembly required

Sprout's Birth, Part 2
assembled @ 7:44 p.m. on 2004-10-23

The continued story of Sprout's birth, in honor of the first anniversary of the blessed event. The first part can be read here.

By the time Hero got home, the contractions were pretty close together, about 3 minutes. I spent a lot of time on my hands and knees, Hero rubbing my back. As labor progressed, it got more intense than I remember Pearl's birth being. I had to crawl to the bathroom on my hands and knees to use the toilet; even the thought of walking was just too much for me. I started to feel panic during contractions, this horrible, overwhelming feeling of being completely lost and out of control. I was convinced that I was going to die. The only thing that got me through those contractions was my mental mantra, "Open, open, open, open...." and Hero. Keeping eye contact with him somehow kept me anchored. The man didn't even blink. He sat with me through every contraction, either holding my hand or touching my leg so that I could stay grounded. When I said that I would die, he reassured me that I wouldn't. When I felt that overwhelming urge to push or explode, but I couldn't because I had a cervical lip, Hero got me through it. He missed one contraction due to having to use the bathroom, and my mom took his place. She did wonderfully, but she wasn't Hero, she wasn't my foundation and rock. It's hard to explain how I surrendered my well-being, my whole life to him during that labor, but it was a beautiful thing. Mom got a great picture of us, during a contraction, and you can see it on our faces: my fear and my trust, and my complete belief in him, and his steadiness and love and strength. I really should have that picture framed.

Just like with Pearl, I fell asleep just before the pushing stage, and the contractions spaced way out. I remember hearing vague conversations of concern during both births, but I know it was just my body giving me a much-needed break, and getting me ready for the next part. Looking back on the births, I am so glad I wasn't in a hospital either time. That break would have been construed as something harmful, and I'm sure I would have ended up with Pitocin at the very least, a cesarean section at worst, when I was too exhausted to push my baby out. But things turned out perfectly, so there's no need to dwell on that.

When I was finally pushing Seth out, I got mad. Really mad. To the point where I screamed, in front of the midwife, her assistant, and my own mother, "I HATE these fucking contractions!" Then I pushed way harder than I should have and tore. I heard Charlotte and my mother telling me not to push for a moment, the cord was around the baby's neck. I held on as best I could, and I'm sure I was squeezing Hero's hand the whole time, but then I could push again, and the moment of birth had arrived. My mom had wanted to catch Sprout, but Charlotte couldn't get her attention, my mother was so busy snapping pictures. So Charlotte said, "Carrie, reach down and catch your baby," and I did. What an amazing moment. I picked up my little boy, only halfway born, and pulled him up to my chest, cuddled him close, crying with happiness, and my husband by my side. Mom went into the next room and got Pearl, who was concerned about the blood at first, but quickly overcame that to look at her new brother. It was so... beautiful seems to flat of a word to use. There's nothing like it. A new person was in the room, someone who wasn't in our world only moments before. That moment passed and now we had our son. Our little Sprout.

One of my favorite moments after the birth (which took 8 hours, half the time of Pearl's birth), was watching Hero with his new son, holding him close and rocking him while I was stitched up. I mentioned something about dressing him, and Hero said, "Do I have to?" When I said no, he took his shirt off and held the baby against him, skin to skin, for over an hour, sitting in the other room with his two children, all of them getting to know one another.

Overall, this birth seemed easier to recover from than the first, and it was hard to stay in bed for three days. Sometimes, in those first days, I would just hold him on my bent knees and watch him sleep, in awe of this new little person, of his tiny, wrinkled, ears and his surreally long fingers and toes. My son. I am so immensely in love with this child, my heart hurts to think about it. He first smiled at me on Christmas day. He's full of smiles now.

--N

then || now