My darling son is six months old. How ol’ Time has taken our little family on her swings and flown since Duke was born! Duke is a gift. An absolute, complete, total gift. I adore him. We all do. I’m honored to be his mother and to have his birth story here to forever have and to hold. Duke is my fifth baby, and if delivering five babies has taught me anything, it’s that there is no “right” way to have a baby, and every rodeo is its own perfect adventure. I love how Duke’s birth played out. The entire experience was a gift, just as he is.
September 5, 2022. Labor Day. Yes, it was Labor Day. I woke up early, per usual, and headed out on a walk. Like every other pregnant woman on the planet in the last weeks of her third trimester, I was worn out. The weariness that sets into your body during that very final stretch is hard to describe. Tight? Taut? Stretched and yet still stretching? Painful? Yes to it all — so much so that the thought of pushing an 8 pound bowling ball out of your body sounds appealing. I was in that most unhappy physical place waddling down the road when my two aunts came upon me on their morning walk. “Oh Jeni, you look tired!” They could tell right away that I was spent and that this baby was coming. “Yes he’s coming,” I told them, “but then again, I’m not sure if he is? I’m 39 weeks today and I’ve been 100% effaced and dilated to a 3 since week 37. My doctor keeps telling me to be ready to rush to the hospital when my water breaks (not if but when my water breaks) because this baby is ‘so ready’ that he’s going to fall out of me.”
“100% effaced?! Are you having contractions???”
“Totally. Feel my stomach – I’m contracting right now. They’re just not hard enough to stop me in my tracks. You know how they need to be when you’re really going to have a baby…” And then, defeated, I teared up and started to cry. Then I laughed at how I was crying, which made them laugh and cry, all of us knowing the rollercoaster of emotions you feel when your baby is coming-but-not-coming. My Aunt Megan said that a prolonged labor happened to her with her fifth baby, that that she finally just went into the hospital to get induced, and that within no time at all, her baby was born. My Aunt Heather then encouraged me to “just go in and get checked. I think you need that — just for peace of mind as to where you’re at today, at least.” We said goodbye and I chewed on their idea of heading to the hospital as I walked back home.
I had never been induced before. I had naturally gone into labor four times prior, having natural labors and deliveries for three of those four babies. I knew how to run this race. Why wasn’t my body kicking it into gear this time? Should I really just go in and get checked, and then possibly induced? Right then, I remembered that only an hour earlier, I had asked Heavenly Father in my morning prayer what I needed to do to help my baby boy come. Sitting at 100% effacement and having contractions for the last two weeks was starting to get to me mentally. I was willing to put in some effort at that point to make the magic happen; I just wanted some direction as to where to start. Should I take castor oil? Eat pasta? Curb walk? Coming up on my house, I felt that my aunts’ lived experience and advice was my answer. I walked in the door and told Ryan, “Let’s go to the hospital to get checked.”
With the girls dropped off at my sister’s and a small bag packed, we headed to the hospital as casually as could be. I texted my nurse friend, Heidi, and asked for advice as to what to even say when I walked in to the hospital since I was healthy and okay and was just…there to get checked?? I felt so vulnerable and nervous. Heidi sweetly reassured me that what I was doing was normal, she gave me small prompt to say, and then told me to not worry. Heidi’s confidence and prompt worked, and within a few minutes, I was in the triage room hooked up to monitors to check the progress of my sweet baby and body.
Sure enough, my contractions were coming in at 3-5 minutes apart, and creating a pronounced peak on the little seismic graph and yet? After an hour, I was still dilated to a 3. Again, I cried. And then I laughed, again. The kind Triage nurse then took pity on the emotional rollercoaster in front of her and called my doctor, and he gave me permission to stay and have my baby. The condition for staying was, as I knew, taking Pitocin to induce my labor which I knew had the potential to make a natural delivery more difficult than normal. My doctor knew that I had planned on a natural devilry with Duke, so he asked the Triage nurse to then give me ample time to make my decision. Ryan and I thoroughly thought out both scenarios — the induction and having Duke that day or going home and waiting for my labor to fully start — and having done this five times, we chose to stay. We chose to walk a road that we hadn’t yet – an induced labor! – and we felt excited.
Fast forward a few hours, and even on the Pitocin, I was just dilated to a 5 and my contractions were still coming every 3 minutes. Strangely, just as I had been for the last two weeks, I was in no pain. It was then that I remembered reading my older sister’s birth story just the night before – she, too, had had a slow labor until she received an epidural – then her baby came within an hour. Comparison is the thief of joy, I know, but sometimes the life stories of others are just what we need in order to know what to do for ourselves. Thinking of Annie, I asked for an epidural right then with a few contingencies (no spinal block, and I only wanted to receive one dose of medicine), and I got the perfect epidural. Barely numb and totally relaxed, I laid on my back, then on my left side, and then I turned to my right. I slowly breathed and waited for my baby. In high contrast from the long, agonizing prior two weeks of wondering when I would have my baby, within 40 minutes of having the epidural, Duke was on his way.
I felt Duke – heavy and low. Sure enough, I was dilated to a 9.5. My nurse called my doctor. “Dr. Brown is 10 minutes away.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I’m going to stay here on my right side. I’m not going to move – I”ll deliver the baby just like this.”
“Perfect,” was her reply.
If having delivering four prior babies taught me anything, it was to speak up and say what I want and need as the delivering mother. Baby by baby taught me that a lot of the medical industry is a little backwards regarding labor and birth — the comfort of the medical staff and doctors often come first, so long as they’re allowed to get first dibs. As working professionals with schedules and demands and protocols, they like to participate in very convenient, efficient deliveries And I mean – I can put myself in their busy shoes – I get it. With my final labor and delivery, though, I was okay to respectfully push their preferences aside and put my own first. I told them how I was going to deliver. To the great credit of my doctor and my nurses that day, they listened.
Because I had sat at a 9.5 while waiting 10 minutes for Dr. Brown to arrive, Duke’s perfect little head pushed gently on my perineum until the muscle had relaxed so much, it turned soft as mush. This state is a gift! The perineum can only reach that point via a process called “rest and descend” (the baby descends and rests on the muscles, completely relaxing them). I was never able to let my babies rest and descend when unmedicated (sitting at a 9.5 is tough), but the epidural had numbed me just enough that Duke rested there, my perineum was as soft as can be, and when Dr. Brown entered the room he sat right down and said, “Oh I see his hair! I’m going to break your water, and then give one good push.”
My breath was deep, my push was low and long. Duke’s head was delivered.
“Amazing! Can you do that one more time?”
My breath was deep, my push was low and long. Duke was delivered.
The best part there? My water bag had been broken, but the water stayed behind Duke until my second push as I delivered him, which is when it rushed out of me. “Oh my gosh,” the doctor said as he caught Duke on top of the water. “He just surfed out of you! That water was a wave!”
Duke, our surfer boy! My body was overwhelmed with its own wave of endorphins. I cried tears of total joy. My baby! My boy. He was here. Heaven was here.
Even before we reached 24 hours at the hospital, we were discharged and headed home with our precious son. His sisters greeted him with the grandest party, and honestly, the celebrating hasn’t stopped since. When you’re an only boy, and when you have the most precious, sweetest, calmest, funniest, happiest demeanor, the world around can’t help but rejoice at everything you do, which is exactly what we all do. On the daily! Oh how we love our Duke! He has perfectly made our family complete. I thank my Heavenly Father for his perfect birth and for His goodness in giving me the chance to mother one of His precious sons. Duke I am honored to be yours. Welcome to our family, my sweet son.
All photos are by my incredible friend, Cachet B. Photography. What treasures they are to me!
