Losing Control

I am an organizer. A planner. OK, ok, a type-A control freak. We have spreadsheets that map out the next 15 years of our lives. So far, we’ve pretty much gotten everything we planned for out of life. The same can be said for this pregnancy … and yes, even this delivery.

We planned Eli’s conception so my maternity leave would end just in time for my summer break to start.

Somehow, we conceived the first month our first month of trying. OK – not “somehow.” I charted my cycle for over a year and went through a lot of work to maximize our fertility.

For some reason, I LOVED pregnancy. I planned a healthy, happy pregnancy.

It wasn’t entirely luck because I did a lot of preparing for that healthy pregnancy. I took prenatal vitamins for 2 years before getting pregnant. I completely overhauled my diet and exercise routine a year before getting pregnant so I could make the best home for our growing child. I made major life changes to reduce my stress levels. Don’t get me wrong, I know that I could have done all these things and still had complications, but apparently God decided to let me have this one my way.

I planned a beautiful natural labor.

Somehow, I had the labor of my dreams.

OK, again, not “somehow.” We took three DIFFERENT birthing classes which, now that I add it up, resulted in over 24 hours of childbirth preparation. I had been doing exercises to maximize birth efficiency years before getting pregnant. We discovered New Birth Company, where our birth plan was the norm, not an exception. I married the kind of man who is a supportive partner not only in life, but in birth. We found a doula that brought all of these pieces together. My body obliged, did exactly what it was designed to do, and I just followed its lead.

I had my very first contraction after dinner on my birthday. I had told Eli not to come on my birthday, and unless my labor was scarily fast, he listened.

The first few contractions were about 15 minutes apart and didn’t feel like I expected at all. Really, I just felt like I had to pee but had held it in for half a day or so. You’ve never seen two people so excited about contractions! We were shopping at the time, and my husband later told me that one of the reasons he had me walk around the store for almost an hour was that he really wanted my water to break so they would have to announce “clean up, clean up in aisle …”

Not wanting to jump the gun on declaring this real labor, we went home to get some sleep. The contractions kept up, but I took 15 minute cat naps in-between. My husband, in an effort to play it cool, went down to his man cave and watched sports. Contractions got closer together and stronger while I was upstairs. By 1 a.m., we were pretty sure this was the big show. We stayed calm, the most excited calm I’ve ever been. We took showers, packed the bag, and got prepared between contractions. We called our doula, and she agreed that we were in our first stage of labor. She recommended that Erik make me a nice breakfast and gave us encouragement that we were doing all the right things. During each contraction, I rolled on a ball. I loved that ball.

I also found myself covering up in blankets – an odd desire when you’re in labor.

These first hours of contractions revealed one of the biggest surprises of labor (for me, at least): I make sex noises when I have contractions. There is no other way to say it. My husband coached me beautifully, recognizing my emotional signposts, timing my contractions, helping me both physically and emotionally along the way.

Once Erik noticed the signs that I was entering transition (or dilating the last few centimeters), he called the midwife on call at New Birth Company. We got the green light to come in, meaning I had to face the harsh reality of 30 minutes of having contractions in a car – without my beloved birth ball.

It was still dark when we got to the Birth Center. The midwife met us at the door, walked us back, and checked me during a contraction. I did NOT like that process, mainly because I had to lie on an exam table instead of on a ball. She asked if we still preferred the suite we had previously picked out and my husband’s response was, ”so we get to stay?” He had been so very worried that we would go too early and he’d have to deal with the guilt of making me labor away from home only to be sent back.

We walked down to the room and were finally alone. It was a perfect moment of solitude for us to kiss and take in the fact that we were going to get to meet our son.

I immediately went for their birth ball and contracted on it until our doula arrived and suggested that we walk on the trails around the birth center. We took my two comforts: my ball, and my blanket. At one point I was rolling on my ball (making sex noises, no less) on the sidewalk in front of an office building. Thank goodness it was a Saturday!

When we got back, my friend and birth photographer, Katie, arrived.

After a few more contractions, they asked if I was ready for the tub. I felt like they were giving me the best present in the world – and once I got in, I saw what all the water hype was about.

By this time, my mind was in what my doula called “labor land.” My thoughts were blank except to think about my body and what it needed in the moment. I had no idea what was going on around me, and I didn’t care. I didn’t need to. My husband, the nurse, the midwife, and my doula were there to do the thinking for me, and I trusted them to do just that. I was relaxed, calm, and confident. Our doula poured water over my belly for hours. It may seem small and silly, but the sensation was almost perfection.

She whispered with the nurse, midwives, and Erik, quietly orchestrating my perfect labor and allowing me to focus on my baby. My husband was by my side the entire time – stroking my hair, whispering encouragement, and keeping me in my calm little world.

He was the only person I really sensed. In retrospect, I know everyone else was there, but they could feel the calm in the room and they kept quiet and helped Erik to lead me. It was the most amazingly controlled out of control  feeling I have ever experienced.

This went on for hours, but I didn’t sense time. You could have told me it had been half an hour and I would have believed you. I got out of the tub once to go to the bathroom, and when I got back in they started preparing for a water delivery. I had found a rhythm in my contractions, but pushing would require that I find a new sense of balance.

Pushing was hard.

Understatement of the year, I know. After having such confidence in my ability to master contractions, I felt pretty useless when I struggled with contractions. Thankfully, my midwife and doula offered me suggestions to help me push more efficiently. I squeezed the hands of Erik and my doula as I pushed, working with my body through each contraction, and falling back into the warmth of the tub in-between.

They kept an eye on Eli’s heartbeat; one of the few things I remember hearing while I labored were those numbers. They were slowly going down, so the midwife had me try a few options. Finally, she firmly said, “Alli, get out of the tub.” I am nothing if not a rule follower, so I popped right on up and got out. I don’t think anyone expected me to move with that kind of speed, and later my midwife said that it was certainly the fastest she had ever seen anyone get out of the tub.

Then, it happened – my favorite part of labor. As I walked to the bed, I felt Eli’s head between my legs.

When I got to the bed, the midwife had me lean on a peanut-shaped birthing ball, putting me in what was essentially a more comfortable hands and knees position.

I felt Eli’s head come out. It felt exactly like I would have expected. I felt his shoulder with the next contraction, and then his little body. The midwife said, “Alli, pick up your baby!” and there he was, in my arms – all 8 pounds, 13 ounces of him. It was like someone switched on the lights: I left labor land and my senses all came back at once.

I expected to goo, but what I didn’t expect was all that hair!

Our new family of three did what we have done throughout this entire process: we stared at each other and smiled. Scratch that – Erik and I stared and smiled, Eli screamed. Eventually, after the cord blood stopped pulsing, Erik cut Eli’s cord.

Eli continued to cry until we got him latched on to breast feed – a foreshadowing of the coming weeks of my life. I spent a lot of time smelling him. He didn’t “smell like a baby,” he smelled like MY baby. It was intoxicating, really. We took in all his tiny features, from his bright blue eyes and dimples down to his tiny toes.

He was finally here. All these months, even years, of planning … and here he was. I look back now with gratitude: thankful for a birthing center that empowers women through the birth process and sees it as a normal, healthy, happy process. Thankful for a doula who acted almost like a puppeteer, quietly making sure that I got the labor I wanted by taking care of all the things I wasn’t able to, all while praising and encouraging me. Thankful for a midwife who kept my birthing space calm and peaceful, even when complications arose. Thankful for a talented friend who was able to capture our labor with such dignity, artistry, and love. Thankful for a husband that is my safe place: who was able to show me how much he loved me through his words, his touch, and presence. And now, thankful for our Eli, the little man who is teaching me that love allows you to let go of control … almost forces you to, really. There’s a freedom and a power in losing control, and I hope that my birth story can remind me of that. Always.

Photo credit: Joyful Beginnings

Note: This is the final post in our Belly Diaries series. To follow Alli and Allison’s journeys from conception to childbirth, you can read every post in this series by clicking here.

About the author: I’m Alli Brown, a twenty-seven year old high school family and consumer sciences teacher. I’m married to the man I was lucky enough to fall for before we could even drive. After graduating from Kansas State, we got married and moved to Kansas City. Five years later, we are now expecting our first child. That’s right – this parenting teacher is finally going to be a parent! You can follow along with more of our journey on my personal blog.