The Birth Report

Above: Beth McAllister, Doula, helps Megan through a contraction en route the hospital.

This is the birth report, not to be confused with the birth story, which I will leave to my wife Megan to tell for herself. As the days are passing quickly since 11:31pm, Monday the 28th, and my time is at a premium, I wanted to get the basic facts of Maeva’s birth down before I forget them in the flurry of diaper changes and feeding documentations.

Monday: Early Labor

6am-2pm: Over breakfast, Meg mentions that at 2:30am this morning, she awoke with “something different going on down there.” When pressed to explain, she says “It was definitely stronger contractions. A little bit painful, like I had to breathe through them.” She doesn’t think much of it, so I don’t either.

When we say goodbye to one another on our way out the door, we have absolutely no idea that we will have a daughter in our arms later that night.

Meg and I work a full day. Later she explains that during lunch, co-workers timed her contractions. They are stronger than the Braxton Hicks she has been having for the past few weeks.

3pm: Meg goes for an appointment with our midwife, Kathrine. She checks Meg’s dilation and finds that she is at 4cm. “So go home” she says “and get ready to have a baby.”

On the way home, Meg has to pull over the car a couple times to let the contractions pass.

Monday Evening: Active Labor

4:30pm: Meg gets home and explains her visit with Kathrine. We both think, alright, we’re going to have a baby in the next day or two. We should probably get the bags together, and print out the final birth plan. Meg requests pasta and red sauce for dinner. I drink a beer and make dinner.

5pm: Meg is on the couch breathing through her contractions. They are getting stronger, so we begin to time them. They average every 5 min 15 seconds. Meg sits at the kitchen table and devours her pasta, stopping to cradle her belly when a contraction takes hold. I clean up the house, take out the garbage, and prep our hospital bags. Camera? Check. Flip flops? Check. Powerbars? Check. It looks like one of us is running a marathon.

5:30pm: Meg calls her doula, Beth. “When were you planning on calling me?!” she says after Meg explains the situation. The situation seems surreal. Neither of us can believe we are on the verge of parenthood. Beth says she will come over at 6:30. Meg continues to labor, and relaxes when she can on the couch.

6pm: Contractions are coming in like a squall now, and the seas look rough. It dawns on us that we will have a child tonight or tomorrow morning early. Meg’s contractions are much more intense, lasting longer, and coming more quickly. Her whole demeanor changes and she is much more serious, focusing inward. I hear seagulls. A little thought creeps up the back of my head. I wonder if Meg is going to have this baby on the living room carpet. Soon. I dim the lights and turn off the music. Our boat feels adrift.

Meg continues to work it out on the floor, doing yoga moves and using the exercise ball to lean against when a strong one takes hold.

6:30pm: Beth arrives with her cool, calm demeanor, and steers us in the right direction. Thank god. I never finished even the 2nd Chapter of Birth Partner. Beth takes immediate action as she sets down her purse, instructing me in the proper placement of my hand on Meg’s sacrum, which eases Meg’s discomfort immediately. “It takes the edge off” Meg says. I see a look of concern in Beth’s eyes that says she is wondering if we are going to have the baby on the living room floor.

6:45pm: Beth and I finally talk Meg into getting up and walking out the door to the hospital. I carry our bags and the camera, taking photos as we slowly make the two blocks to the hospital. Meg stops several times to contract, once on a garbage can, another time on a retaining wall, another in the hospital before we can get her a wheel chair. We put the hammer down and get her up to 3rd floor Labor Assessment.

7:15pm: Kathrine shows up and everyone relaxes a bit. She is excited and energized in her element. Meg is dilated to a 6. We gather up our goods again and walk to the delivery room, as Meg doesn’t want any of that wheel chair business. We make it half way when Meg says she is going to be sick. She proceeds to unload most of the angel hair pasta with red sauce on the hospital carpeting. I regret that I do not get a photo.

Monday Night: Full Blown Labor

7:30pm-10:30pm: Various positions, baths, rubs and implements used to make Meg more comfortable and to help position the baby. Kathrine works with Meg like a coach to help her focus on her labor, all the while giving our team updates on her progress. Beth works tirelessly to comfort Meg. I try to be useful. Everything progresses pretty much textbook. Another contraction takes hold. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe into it. Ride the wave. Breathe. Ok, relax. Relax. Completely relax. Relax.

It’s just us in the delivery room, and a pretty nurse named Gracia. She is matter of fact and pleasant. She monitors the vitals of mother and child. I wonder what it’s like to see these events unfold every evening at work.

Monday Night Late: The Pushing

11pm: Meg is contracted to nearly 10 and Kathrine tells her it’s time to push. A couple contractions go by and Meg begins to work with them, using them to help push the baby down and out. She keeps working at it, making facial expressions, grunting and groaning. During contractions the mood is like a wild animal. Between contractions we are quiet and intense. The baby drops and things progress but then the head gets hung up on something. It’s a hump Meg has to push through.

11:20pm: Kathrine tells Meg that it’s time to get serious, that she doesn’t have another hour to push. She has to get the job done. I can see the thought of C-section move through Meg’s mind. In her next contraction Meg is more intense than a cornered badger. Her arms flex and the muscles in her neck stand out. She howls. The baby is crowning. Then the contraction passes.

11:25pm: Meg asks everyone in the room to focus on the baby. She asks everyone to repeat after her, “the baby is coming.” Everyone stops what they are doing and repeats after Meg, “the baby is coming.”

11:28pm: At the next contraction, Meg digs deep and lets out a terrific scream. Our baby daughter shoots out in one swift movement.

11:31pm: Welcome to the world, Maeva Francine. Born April 28, 2008; 5lbs, 14 ozs; 19 ¾ inches long. She looks like her papa. A lot. At least for now. What an honor. She came out with a strong neck, and she pulled her head up at the sound of papa’s voice. (All that tummy talk paid off!) We share tears and great relief at having a healthy baby. Megan announces almost immediately that we are doing this again.

Footnote: About The Names

Maeva: Pronounced “May-vah.” Papa came up with this. He heard it somewhere. It just came up one night when Meg and Jeremy were discussing names. It stuck. We found out later it means “welcome” in Tahitian, and was a popular name in France in the 40’s. It seems to be somewhat common in Spain as well. There are derivations on the name found in Scandinavia.

Francine: Papa also came up with this one. It complimented the sound of Maeva, and gave it a classic, timeless feel. Neither of the names are family names. It happens to mean “from France” and was also a popular name in the mid 1900s.

I guess we’ll have to take the little one to France. On y va ma petite!