As is fitting with my own little tradition, I’m sharing Isaac’s birth story now that he’s 2. Elyas and Miriam I made it by their birthdays, but Isaac is at least in his birth month, if barely. Happy Second birthday, baby boy. I’ve enjoyed these past 2 years immensely, and cannot wait to continue to enjoy being your mama for the next many, Lord willing!

It was December and the days were ever getting darker, colder, with snow blanketing the landscape. The desire to stay home, stay warm, and nest had already been strong for awhile. Exhaustion crept in, this third pregnancy was not my easiest, fatigue was persistent, but also fairly understandable given I was chasing around a 1year old and a recently turned 3 year old. Stress was also high after a particularly brutal autumn, but that’s another story for another time, that I will not allow to darken the story of my greatest blessing of 2023.

Isaac was due on December 10. I loved that I got to have a baby during the festivity. Given his due date and the general good advice to not go more than 2 weeks past the due date, I knew he would be here by December 24, no Christmas baby here! I so enjoyed having my first two going into the fall and winter months, hunkering down to cuddle and nurse babies during the cold months feels perfect. I couldn’t wait to have my new baby in my arms, sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree, rocking and treasuring these moments in my heart. The huge event of birth stood between me and that moment, however.

December 15

Now 5 days late, and with an official induction date for the 18th, I was still fully hoping to go into labor spontaneously as I did with my first two. I had a chiropractor appointment in the early afternoon, in the hopes to get that final “crack” (that may or may not have been that last something to get labor started with my second.) A couple hours after the chiro appointment I had a midwife appointment, where she offered to check to see if there was any dilation and effacement and possibly do a membrane sweep. A membrane sweep was a new experience for me, but the midwife could only do a partial sweep as I was only 1cm dilated.

I went home for another cozy evening by the Christmas tree and fire, making dinner and working on a Christmas puzzle. The entire evening after the membrane sweep I felt a low belly cramp. While not strong, it was almost constant, and left me feeling restless. We watched a movie, then I went to bed. Every night at term I always hope and pray for a full and good night’s sleep, as labor can be brutal without enough rest going into it. Around 2am I was awoken with some real contractions. I started to time some, still trying to rest, breathe, maybe go back to sleep. I slept on and off, but things kept getting stronger. By 5am they were getting strong enough that I felt I wanted some emotional support, so I let my mom know that I was having somewhat regular and strong contractions. Darkness doesn’t usually bother me, but experiencing labor in the dark when everyone else is asleep feels very lonely and isolating. I do not like it. Once the sun breaks everything feels manageable, but for whatever reason, the darkness gets to me in labor.

My mom got up with me and helped to time the contractions. She saw with my second labor that I can stay very calm and controlled, even through transition and beyond, resulting in getting to the hospital later than would be ideal. We had a plan to get to the hospital not so late this time.

She encouraged me to lay down and rest while I could. I slept during the in between moments, having regular and strong contractions. Around 7:30 the sun was up, I felt I couldn’t sleep anymore, and got up. Now being more upright and moving, naturally the contractions started getting stronger. My first two were waking up, and I was helping them as much as I could.

Contractions were ever getting harder, and it felt harder to work through them. The dreaded back labor started to kick in, a horrible dejavu to my first labor. Around 10:30am we decided it would be best to head into the hospital. My oldest two stayed with grandpa while we got in the car as quickly as we could. The hospital is only 10 minutes away. I stepped out of the car and a strong contraction took me, and I threw up right there on the sidewalk. I was humiliated but also, you really only half care at that point, you know? In the absence of my husband my brother had driven us in, and he heroically ignored the gore, fetched a wheelchair, and pushed me in with my mom grabbing my bag. Into the familiar maternity ward we went, except this time I got to experience actual American triage. My first was born in Italy, and my second was basically ready to come out when I arrived at the hospital so we got to skip a good bit of the triage. Now that I’ve been through it, can I say I am absolutely not a fan? I want to say it took an hour, and no woman wants to spend an hour in a small room on an uncomfortable bed in positions that are not comfortable to labor in while filling out paperwork that feels like it could wait for more opportune times. Thanks for listening to my TED talk.

Baby’s vital signs were all great, and I was dilated to 5/6cm. Finally, they said I could move to my room. The bad news was, something was wrong with the heat and the room was not even 60 degrees. The nurses were very kind and brought multiple heated sheets to cover me in while I swayed on a birthing ball at the end of the bed.

It was time to put a line in, but the nurse was having the hardest time finding my vein. They had to call in a specialist with a little ultrasound machine to be able to locate my vein while inserting the needle. Even the specialist had difficulties and took several tries. My arm was sore, and I just wanted it back so I could use it to support myself. Another dejavu of my first labor, where my drip line was too short to reach where I was laboring on a clean blanket on the floor. My arm just had to stay suspended in air. Finally the specialist got the line in. I was already tired from it all and plopped on the bed.

Laying down didn’t seem to help much, and my brain decided now was my chance to finally labor in water, something else I had never been able to do. My body decided it was too tired, and each time I decided, “ok after this contraction I’ll get up and get in the tub”, it didn’t happen. I was frozen with fatigue, every bit of energy being put into mentally preparing for and getting through the next contraction. I was discouraged that this labor was so much harder than my second. It felt like my first labor all over again, and I hadn’t wanted to repeat that one. But here I was, back labor making me want to jump out of my body. Finally, after I don’t know how long, I got up the gumption to get int the tub. My mom helped my run some water and get in. It wasn’t nearly as helpful as I had always thought and hoped. Partly because the tub was a normal tub, and I felt I didn’t have enough room to get comfortable. Partly the grout was moldy and I could smell it. Heightened pregnancy scent meant I was done after just 20 minutes or so. I got out and plopped back on the bed. After a while I got up on my hands and knees, anything to keep the back labor at bay. The sweet nurse came to check on me, and asked if I would like some counter pressure on my hips. I agreed and she started to show my mom how to do it. On the second contraction with counter pressure I suddenly got extremely uncomfortable and my water broke.

The contractions kept charging on, and I was so ready to be done. I almost felt mad at labor, mad at the contractions, for being so relentless and not yielding my baby yet. My nephew had been born on this same day 8 years before, and we were waiting to see how close the timing would be. My nephew was born at 2:31pm. 2:30pm came and went. Just when I was starting to think this was going to go on forever and why don’t they just put my name on a plaque above the bed since I’ll be there for so long, I started to feel pushy so the nurse checked me. I was 9.5cm, or 10cm with a lip, and just about ready to push. Wait, what? Already? But I was just picking out my curtain colors since I was going to be in this room so long! She went to get the doctor on call, and he came in shortly. He checked me again and I was complete, ready to push. I opted to lay on my side to push. I started pushing at 3pm and at 3:11pm after 3-4 pushes, Isaac was out! He was posterior, sunny side up, facing the wrong way, as I had suspected for several months now, even though my third trimester ultrasound showed him in the correct anterior facing position.

The doctor was very impressed, and said in the over 5,000 births he had assisted, that was one of the most controlled births he had ever witnessed. And all the more challenging because Isaac was posterior! Sweet baby boy weighed 8lbs 3oz, a nice healthy boy, but I admit I rather thought/hoped he might be a 9 pounder for how I felt and how big my basketball belly was!

Sweet relief set in. The golden hour was here. I was smitten, and so thankful. Family came to visit, big brother and sister got to meet Isaac. The baby snuggles and long hours nursing now commenced, and I have loved every second of it. As the doctor was telling me, those third children are something special. Often forgotten and no one remembers their name, but there’s just something about those third children that steals your heart all over again in a special way.

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