First, we are all doing well here. J had a visit with our ped today (our practice doesn’t go to the hospital where we delivered) and he’s fine, though they want to test his bilirubin again tomorrow morning. He’s also lost right at 10% of his birth weight, which is as much as they really like. Thankfully the milk delivery arrived earlier today, and he’s an enthusiastic nurser (though not demanding it as frequently as the girls did), so I think we have nowhere to go but up.

He is a very chilled-out baby at this point. A little spitty, which apparently is normal for a baby who was born as quickly as he was and without being suctioned. That seems to have calmed down, though we’re also not letting him sleep flat.

His coloring is very pink. His thumbs and big toes are proportionally huge. His eyes are hard to figure out. I think they’re blue, but they look like they will change. I hope they turn the color of his grandpa’s, the one for whom he is named (first name).

Mamala is here; she’s been commuting downtown for work, then coming back here in the evenings. She’s basically on girl detail, which is actually the harder job, I think. Tomorrow the girls will sleepover at her place. Sunday we put up Christmas decorations, and G-mommy comes on Tuesday. I am enjoying maternity leave. R and I have been napping each afternoon.

The girls are enamored of their brother. M walks in from daycare saying, “Baby J! Where Baby J!” When we’re burping him she will offer her services, pointing to her shoulder and say “my doh-duh?”

(She also wants to sit in his car seat and to nurse. As R put it, it’s not just that she wants to do all grown-up things. She wants to experience everything. “A scary quality in a teenager,” he said, and I said, “Yes, but a lovely quality in a mature adult.” BTW, I politely declined on the nursing.)

C has been saying things like, “I just can’t take my eyes off him” and “He’s so cute!” Which he is. We’re definitely in the babymoon period.

My birth story is below. I wrote this up for my own memory and for another venue, but here it is…

sweet baby J, born 3:35 a.m.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
9 lbs 1 ounce, 20.5 inches

So two days before the birth, at Monday’s prenatal visit, I was 3-4 cm, 50% effaced. Tuesday morning at 4 a.m. I began having strongish but irregular contractions, which continued all day. These would peter out when lying down, kicking in again when up and about. I ran a few errands in the morning and spent the afternoon watching Parenthood, which I watched while in labor with C, and dozing. That evening I took a shower, intending to lie down and get some rest, but they picked up to every 3-4 minutes. So I decided to go in to the hospital, and called the doula to meet us there. Contractions continued every 3-4 minutes in the car. I had a quick snack in the parking lot when we arrived because I was starving and didn’t know how much of a hassle they would give me if I wanted to eat something later.

I got checked in and monitored for 20-30 minutes, during which time the contractions petered out. Damn. The midwife was one I’d never worked with, but she turned out to be just perfectly suited for me. More on that as we go along, but when she checked me, I was depressed to discover I was still at 4 cm. 70% effaced, however. So the midwife said well, this is early labor. Problem is, these contractions were much stronger than any early labor I’d had!

That felt a little ominous.

My doula and I had a good talk. After M’s 2 1/2 hour labor I had been fearful about waiting too long to go to the hospital this time. Yet philosophically I didn’t want to be hanging out at the hospital longer than I really needed to. I was feeling a bit of a crisis of confidence after getting to the hospital having made so little progress.

I realized that I needed to stop comparing labors and just focus on birthing *this* child, not the previous one. So I decided to walk for 45 minutes or so, and if things didn’t pick up, to go home. The midwife thought this sounded good. While walking, the contractions picked up to every 3 or 4 minutes and were pretty painful. I would grab around R’s neck or go on hands and knees, but was laboring pretty silently, just breathing. We went back to the room, I rocked in the rocking chair and after a while got checked. About two hours after my first check I was 6 cm, and the contractions were coming more steadily and ramping up. These were not the silent kind! I tried to focus on “oooooopen” rather than “For the love of God! Make it stop!” And I will admit that I had the fleeting thought more than once: “Why did I want to do this unmedicated?” Though I never made the leap to “I want an epidural.” Mainly my anxiety was that this might be a really drawn out affair, and I wasn’t sure I had the stamina for it. Things were getting much more intense, but with (what felt like) lots of space between contractions. Incidentally, my water had still not broken at this point.

Both with C and with this labor, our doula happened to have an apprentice along with her. For anyone contemplating a doula, if you ever get asked about this option say YES! Another set of hands to hand you your water between contractions, rub your back, heat up the rice sock, whatever is needed. I was very supported by the two of them and R, and really felt like I was working through this labor. (The last labor was so fast it felt more like it was happening *to* me!) The contractions seemed to come at a steady pace the whole time, getting only slightly closer together, though they got much more intense. I was actually able to doze, and in some strange positions, like sitting on a birth ball leaning with my head and arms on the bed.

I was monitored throughout, 20 minutes at a time, every 75-90 minutes. The nurse was pretty no nonsense and by-the-book in the beginning (WHY do they ask you stuff WHILE you’re having contractions?!), but by the end she was just using the Doppler on me for very short periods.

About 2:45, almost 4 hours after entering the hospital, I was on the bed on my side, because I felt too tired even to sit up by now. Thankfully my broken toe/foot was not bothered by this, even though it was the lower foot. I started to feel a little pushy during contractions at this point. My doula said jokingly, “Of course! It’s almost 3 a.m.!” (C was born at 3:25 and M at 3:20.) Then she sent her apprentice to get the nurse and midwife. The midwife did a quick check and said, “You’re 8 cm, but your cervix is plenty stretchy. Go ahead and go with the urge. If you’re not ready, it won’t feel right, but if you are…” I liked that second option. The midwife was just so relaxed about the whole thing, relaxed in a way that instilled a lot of confidence, I should say. The doula had thought the midwife would come in and break my water but instead she wanted to see what my body had in mind.

So I pushed a little with the pushy contractions. Then I’d get another one or two that didn’t feel pushy. It was all very measured and unhurried, though intense, of course. The pushy contractions got more frequent and urgent, and pretty soon, SPLOOSH! Water broke, or I guess I should say I busted it. It was clear.

Then he was born. Yeah, it was pretty much that fast. At last check he’d been at zero station but he pretty much rocketed down. I don’t know, three or four contractions were it to get him out. We had a short pause to let the tissue stretch as he crowned, which was AGONY. The midwife and doula were reminding me to breathe and wait and to take things slowly. There was a sheet in the way (not that I was looking, I was too focused and also on my side) but someone pulled it away and said “Look!” just in time for me to see his slippery body as he came out, and I reached down and pulled him onto my chest. He cried for a moment or two and then got very peaceful and quiet. What a wonderful moment. My last labor and my last child. (Really! I mean it this time!)

He came out rather blue and stayed that way for “a while,” in the words of R, though his Apgars were 8 and 9 and was crying plenty loud; he was clearly OK.

The other interesting thing is that there was a knot in the cord. It was a loose knot, but the midwife took note of it. At first I didn’t have the stomach to find out how much of a bullet we dodged, but curiosity won out. According to the March of Dimes, a knot occurs in 1% of births, and anywhere from 5-10% of those can result in stillbirth when the knot gets pulled tight.

Needless to say, we’re very grateful he’s here.