Birth Blog 2/4: Active Labor

Memories of active labor are dim and dreamlike. Here's what I can tell you:

- Room was too bright and I asked for the eye mask from my hospital bag.

- I would wear the eye mask for the end of early labor, all of active labor, and all of pushing. In the movie adaptation of my labor, the eye mask will be billed and compensated just below the actor playing me.

- I labored on the bed on a hospital yoga ball: on my knees, forearms on the ball, rocking back and forth. Gabe rolled the ball with me and kept it from rolling off the end of the bed.

- Cassidy started filling the room's labor pool. It seemed like the hospital staff didn't know when or how to do it? There was discussion between Gabe and Cass about how to get the temperature right or how to fill it or something, and Cass told me the other day that apparently I said to her and Gabe, "Stop talking about the tub." I don't remember 😂 

- Laboring in the tub felt better...but it was still bad. Really intense. Really, really intense. The contractions started to scare me. I started to dread each one. I told Gabe I was scared, and he continued to talk to me and tell me that my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to do, to listen to my body, to surrender and breathe, that I was doing an amazing job, that I was strong, that God designed my body for this.

- I asked for water. I needed it through a straw. Funnily enough, Mom had given me a little portable straw in a keychain for Christmas, so Gabe whipped that out and stuck it in my water bottle. But pretty soon I was drinking ice water from a hospital cup. I would just say, "Water" and Gabe or Cassidy would stick a straw in front of my eye-masked face and I'd sip.

- My moaning and humming were crazy loud and desperate sounding. I was surprised that I didn't care who heard me.

- I know I said I couldn't do it anymore a few (quite a few?) times. Gabe assured me that I could.

- The hospital staff did a ton of SUPER annoying things to me (taking the baby's vitals via some kind of band wrapped around my stomach, drawing my blood?!), some of which required me to be out of the tub, which I did NOT want to do, so everyone figured out how to get me out of the water enough to make it work. I hiked my right leg up and put it on the rim of the tub and fully leaned over the side while Gabe supported my whole body. I remember the immense relief I felt when I could just flop all my weight back and have him take it.

The anesthesiologist stopped by to talk about epidurals, but we (Gabe, maybe?) asked him to come back later, basically as a stalling tactic because we knew we didn't want that. He did not come back XD

- I was surprised at how easy it was for me to stay in my "labor flow." Prep classes talked about how if a laboring woman is disturbed (startled, embarrassed, asked to make rational choices when she needs to be all up in her instincts) it can slow or reverse labor progress. Well, that did not happen to me. I was in my labor flow and would not be coming out.

- I remember the transition into proper active labor. Instead of intense period cramps, a contraction actually felt like me and my uterus were throwing up in unison. You know the feeling of throwing up, that involuntary heaving pressure in your chest and throat? That happened to me (sans vomit), but it also happened in my lower abdomen. My uterus was trying to throw up a baby.

- At first, those throwing up contractions were every once in a while. Then they were consistently every other contraction. I HATED them. I hate the uncontrollable feeling of throwing up, and having it in my uterus was no different.

- All through this, Gabe was talking to me. He was the voice in my head. I had nothing else. I let him be my thoughts, and I focused on being my body. When he would tell me he loved me, I would feel my heart squeeze and my shoulders relax and the contractions' intensity literally receded like an ocean wave being drawn back into the sea.

- A nurse asked me if I was feeling pressure during contractions, similar to having to poop. I said yes. She asked if the pressure stayed between contractions or if it was only during. It was only during, but the nurse still thought I was close to the pushing stage. She wanted me to get out of the labor tub and into the bed. I remember resisting because I didn't believe I was that close to pushing. I didn't think the baby was really down there. I guess I thought I'd be able to feel her coming down, like toothpaste getting squeezed out of a tube. So far, she felt like she was in the same place and I just had some pressure down there for...some reason. But I got (well, was walked with HEAVY help from Gabe) to the bed.

- I was cold because I was wet. And pantsless (when had I taken my shorts off?). And maybe also getting some labor shakes. They brought me a warm blanket or something.



- Pretty soon, ALL the contractions were the the throwing up kind. No more period cramps. Only CONTRACTING and not contracting. And even the not contracting was, like...intense. All of it was intense, all the time, but a contraction was on another level that took me to another plane of existence.

- I was making ANIMAL sounds. Or really, my body was. I was a helpless passenger in the mech of my body. I could hear myself grunting, groaning, sounding like a gorilla or a boar or something, but I was not choosing to make those sounds. All I could do was choose to keep my jaw and shoulders as relaxed as possible and wait for my uterus to stop throwing up and my mouth to stop bellowing like a beast.

- Eventually the "pressure like you have to poop" wasn't just with contractions, it was all the time. They called in the doctor. Someone (Cass? Gabe? Nurse? Doctor?) said they could see the baby's head. I did not believe them.

- I consented to a cervical check to confirm that it was time to push. I didn't want to push before my body was ready, because I really didn't want to tear. The cervical check was hands down the most painful part of the entire experience. I was not able to keep my moans low in my body, my jaw open, or my shoulders relaxed. I heard myself actually SCREAM.

- But it was time to push.

~Stephanie

Birth Blog 1/4: Early Labor

Water Breaking
My water broke at 6:30 while I was in bed, 36 weeks 6 days pregnant.

I felt a little moisture between my legs, stuck a finger down there to see what was up, and went, "Huh." I mean yeah, there was moisture, but pregnancy has been one type of discharge after another so I didn't think a ton of it at first.

But then I rolled over and it felt like someone had popped a water balloon between my legs.

"Oh."

The bathroom door to my left was shut, meaning that Gabe was in there getting ready for work.

"Gabe." Nothing. "Gabe. Gabe!" He opened the door. "My water broke."

"Are you s—" His gaze dropped to the giant spot on the sheets, the drips making their way down to soak the carpet.

"Yes." I got up and hobbled to the bathroom. When I sat on the toilet, gushes more surged out. It sounded like I was peeing, which I called to Gabe. "That's not pee! That's my water!"

I was not nervous or scared. I hadn't had any signs of early labor or anything, but she didn't feel early to me.

"I guess we're having a baby," I said.

Gabe stared at me. "...yep."

Early Labor


The next few hours were mostly pretty chill.

I texted our doula, Jocelyn, who lives in Florida. She'd been planning to fly up May 18, but on short notice the earliest she could get to NC was 10pm, so Gabe and I decided to switch the plan to virtual care with her, via texting and video chat if need be.

Since I was feeling good and my water (which was continuing to gush out in random bursts as I went about the house) was clear, I felt good about laboring at home—despite what the obgyn on-call nurse seemed to assume. I called the office to let them know what was going on, and the nurse said to go to the hospital if I didn't start contracting within in the next hour. Fortunately after a couple of laps up and down our street, I thought I could feel some tiny baby period cramps and called them contractions.

There were two small scares that morning: 1) I suddenly realized about 7:30 that I couldn't remember the last time the baby had moved. You can imagine the games my head played until she finally nudged me again. 2) Some of the water coming out of me was very slightly pink tinged, so Jocelyn suggested we go to the obgyn and see if everything was good. Some blood is normal, but the way it was very mixed in with the amniotic fluid was questionable.

However, at the 10:30am obgyn appointment, the baby's heartbeat was great, it was so obvious that my water had broken that they didn't even test it, and Dr. D'Angelo seemed shocked and vaguely impressed that I declined a cervical check. As far as I'd learned in birth prep, the baby was gonna come on her own time and at her own pace, so knowing how dilated I was at the time would mean nothing.

We stopped at Biscuitville on the way home and got sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits for ourselves and my best friend Cassidy, who I'd called in. I thought about calling Sarah, my sister, and her kids to come over, knowing that toddlers would be the BEST distraction from uncomfortable-but-non-urgent early labor. However, I wanted to see how things progressed.

At home, between bites of biscuit, Gabe finished packing and loaded the hospital bags into the car while Cassidy and I meal prepped some frozen breakfast burritos that I'd meant to make the week before. It came up in conversation that the red raspberry leaf tea I'd been drinking to prepare my uterus might've worked a little too well, and then it occurred to me that maybe drinking it would speed up my labor too. I started chugging, and uh.

It worked.

The tiny baby contractions moved quickly into full-blown period cramps that were very distracting. Whenever they got so intense that I couldn't talk through them, we would start timing.

At some point, Gabe and Cass got the labor pool ready: an inflatable thing from Target that we set up on the back patio and began filling with the hose, adding boiling water to it to try to get the temperature more comfortable.

There are a couple of characters in the TV show Friends who get pregnant, and we'd saved all those episodes to watch during my early labor to get my mind off things, so we started the first of four episodes while the pool filled and water boiled. Cass and Gabe sat on couches, I sat on a big yoga ball, bouncing and rolling through contractions—which Gabe had started timing with an app. Apparently they were close and consistent enough that the app was telling us to go to the hospital, but I could still talk through them so I felt like we should wait. Well, I insisted we wait.

Two-thirds of the way through the first Friends episode I paused it to go to the bathroom, and when the next contraction hit on the toilet, I realized that they were a LOT worse when I couldn't be on the yoga ball. I finished my business and called Gabe in. I only wanted him during this phase. I moved into our closet (attached to the bathroom) and started laboring on all fours on the floor. When I would drop onto my forearms, my t-shirt rode up and got in and mouth, which pissed me off, so I took it off.

As the contractions got more and more intense, Gabe gently began suggesting we listen to the app (we were on its sixth or seventh nudge to go to the hospital). I resisted.

"I can talk through them," I said, rocking on my hands and knees. "The birth course said to wait until you can't talk through them, and even the in-between time is tough. That's not happening yet."

But it was real uncomfortable XD Through each contraction, I hummed and moaned deep in my throat, careful to keep my sounds low and my jaw and shoulders relaxed. I told Gabe that I either wanted to get in the labor pool or use my labor combs. He brought me the combs, and they made a HUGE difference. I would grip them during contractions and the teeth pressed into my palms, doing something scientific pressure-point-wise.

Around 3:45pm Gabe convinced me that it was time to go to the hospital. I still didn't believe that it was and I was convinced the staff would laugh at me for coming in so early, but I told Gabe that I trusted him and that if he really wanted me to go, we could go.

We got in the car and Cass followed. Laboring in the car was super, super uncomfortable. I don't remember much about the drive, and my memories get dimmer from here on out. I remember Gabe taking a curve in the road too sharply for my taste and me loudly demanding that he NOT do ANYTHING like that AGAIN because it made me feel like I was going to throw up. I also told him to talk to me during contractions. "Talk about how they're not pain, they're power." I was surprised at how breathless I sounded. "Tell me I'm strong and my body was made for this." And he did. "LOUDER" I snapped at one point, because my moaning and humming had escalated. "You've gotta be louder than I am."

We arrived at the hospital and there was some parking drama because I couldn't walk the length of the garage, but I also didn't want Gabe to drop me off and leave me to go park. In the end, that was what happened though, and a security guard (?) wheeled me into the labor and delivery department.

I remember the breeze on my face as he wheeled me felt really nice. The contractions really did not.

The journey to the check-in counter is a blur of fluorescent lights and disembodied voices. Gabe caught up to us as I was checking in with...some female behind a counter. She was asking me questions (we had preregistered at the hospital) and I was answering them with my eyes closed, fists clenching the labor combs for dear life even between contractions, which were like really intense period cramps...I think? I don't remember filing away a different way to describe them.

When Gabe arrived he took over answering questions, and I thanked God for the bazillionth time that I have a husband who loves me and pays attention to me and whom I can trust to speak for me when I can't.

Got to a triage room, was put onto a hospital bed. More disembodied voices, annoying questions. Cassidy caught up with us at this point. I agreed to a cervical check and was told that I was 4cm dilated, and that usually the first four take the longest.

Next, a labor room.

~ Stephanie

This Might Might Be Completely and Utterly a "Me" Problem

As happens a lot, I had a revelation about three quarters of the way through this post, which resulted in a totally unexpected worldview shift. Come along for the journey below 😂

I've been procrastinating a blog topic for a while now because...well, for two reasons. 1) It's a big topic. It's going to require a lot of thinking/processing/wrestling, and I haven't felt like doing that. 2) People are going to have Opinions, and I don't need them. It'd be too harsh to say I don't care about people's opinions, it's just that they won't factor into what I decide to do. In a way it feels misleading to blog about this (especially if I'm going to share the link to Facebook) and also be disinterested in conversation about the topic.

Okay, so what is the topic? My postpartum philosophy/plans.

There are two extremes and a million happy mediums in between. The two extremes: Bounce Back Boss Babe, and Healing Hibernating Hippie.

Bounce Back Boss Babe
You birth your baby and as quickly and seamlessly as possible get back on your feet cooking, cleaning, running errands, and taking your trendily dressed baby with you on light jogs.

- Very appealing from a pride standpoint—people will comment on how you have it all together, you can fake making motherhood look easy
- Required to some degree by American society. Even my company—which I LOVE working for and relies on family culture—only provides two weeks of paid maternity leave.
- What I saw growing up—especially from my dance teachers. They danced until they went into labor, and then sometimes performed in the recital like a week or two postpartum. Talk about #goals...right?

Healing Hibernating Hippie
Postpartum is treated as a sacred transitional time, where the mother is shielded from all strain and responsibility for weeks, fed in a way that prioritizes her healing, and cautioned against hosting visitors.

- Very appealing from a holistic, body-respectful standpoint—the first forty days of postpartum can allegedly make or break your entire experience of new motherhood
- Unquestionably accepted, nearly enforced, in many Eastern and Native American cultures.
- Radically different from anything I've ever seen anyone do. Granted, most women's postpartum experiences are pretty private (another Western thing), so I don't really know their approaches, but I'm guessing they didn't have a team making every single meal or keeping them warm around the clock.

I just started reading a book called The First Forty Days. I registered for it thinking that it was a cookbook on how to nourish a new mother, and it is...but around the first 55% is actually more philosophical. It's sparked a lot of feelings for me, most of which are summed up in this text to Cassidy:

It's probably that last sentence that really gets me. As a child, I was often told that I was lazy and selfish, which I've blogged about before. Although everyone in my life now tries to reassure me that that isn't true, internalized beliefs are hard to shift. Plus, both sides of my personality would like me to choose the Boss Babe approach to postpartum, albeit for different reasons.

The ENFJ in me desperately wants to behave in the most socially appropriate, commendable way. She doesn't want to be labeled as demanding or inconsiderate; she doesn't want people to talk about her behind her back; she doesn't want to ask more of her village than she has done for others. Yes, I've brought friends a meal or two—but I've also held the baby and watched the new mother do dishes or fold laundry, which is a huge No No in the Hibernating Hippie approach.

The Eight in me desperately wants to show the world how tough and capable I am. Due to sheer luck and the grace of God, I've had an extremely healthy, easy pregnancy. The Eight wants to carry that into postpartum and motherhood, proving that my mind and body are exceptionally strong. Not only does she shirk asking for help (something in common with the ENFJ), she shirks the idea of even needing it.

To be honest, I think I could get the Eight on board easier than the ENFJ. The Eight understands that the body keeps the score. Nourish the body and everything else becomes easier. I also really WANT to embrace the Hibernating Hippie approach, and the Eight thrives on fighting for what I want, even when it might make people annoyed or gossipy.

But I know that community is a powerful factor in motherhood, and community is the ENFJ's domain. She's the one who maintains and repairs relationship, and monitors when I'm being too "extra."

Obviously there are a million shades of medium between the Boss Babe and the Hibernating Hippie, and I'm sure I'll color myself accordingly when the time comes. It's just...modern American culture kinda sucks. I've been thinking so when it comes to religion for a long time, and now I'm learning that the suck extends to postpartum expectations too.

Gabe and I have an INCREDIBLE village, people who have already told us that they want to help in whatever way is most helpful and that they never want us to feel alone.

So...I am just now realizing that this might be completely and utterly a Me problem. No one has told me that I'm "extra." I've already said that people insist that I'm not lazy or selfish.

Wait, is the problem with postpartum that moms often can't make themselves ASK for help, not that their villages wouldn't show up?

*stares out the window for several seconds*

Is my real problem the vulnerability element? I don't want to appear weak or look disheveled in front of people? I don't want to be the first mom in my millennial circle to embrace a more traditional postpartum philosophy?

Well damn, now the Eight is really perking up. She might even be ready to take on the ENFJ.

I guess get ready for me to ask you for meals and help with chores cuz...we might be doing this.

~Stephanie

Marriage Miracles

~ drafted June 14, 2024 but never published ~

Last night at dinner, Gabe pulled out his phone and said, "Okay, I have a few things to talk to you about, if that's okay?"

I nodded. "Go for it."

Gabe proceeded to give a rundown of where he is in the process of all the house-buying minutiae: when our internet here will end and start at the new house, when our power will end here and start at the new house, when we can turn on water at the new house, which security systems he's looked into and what their costs and processes are, how the pest control works, the fact that he's confirmed the date and time of the movers, the fact that he's on top of getting our trashcans.

"You don't need to do anything about this," he said, peering at me over his glasses. "I'm just keeping you in the loop. What?" He smiled hesitantly at whatever look was on my face.

"I'm just...kind of in awe," I said. I grinned. "Can you imagine twenty-two-year-old you doing this? He would've probably looked at the note in your phone and cried."

Gabe laughed, "Yeah, that's true." He glanced back at his phone to continue.

"No, seriously," I said. "This is WILD."

When we first got married, Gabe couldn't even remember to pay the power bill. He couldn't do homework and go to church and hang out with me in the same day. Now he takes ALL of the initiative, does ALL the research, handles ALL of the scary administrative stuff, and all he asks of me is to pay attention when he updates me over some dinners. And even that is for my benefit: he just doesn't want there to be any unpleasant surprises for me or for me to worry about anything.

I have a lot of life goals, but if my number one accomplishment in the end is being a good wife to Gabe, I will be honored. I will feel like my life was well-spent. He's obviously not perfect and there are days when Cassidy gets an earful, but I see God working through Gabe every day. Gabe leads from a place of love. He empowers me and I am comfortable submitting to him.

I don't think this post has a point except to brag on my husband and maybe to encourage people who are worried that they or their partner can't make it XD It can get better—not magically and not overnight, but it can get better.

As I type this, Gabe is in the kitchen making dinner after spending an hour and a half making cupcakes from scratch for a birthday party tomorrow.

If you'd had a backstage pass to the early days of our marriage, you'd believe in miracles right along with me.

~Stephanie

Third Trimester Blog: Part 1

photo credits: Haleigh Nicole Photography

We are in the home stretch. Do I feel ready? No. Do I have lots of thoughts that need to be processed via blog? Yes. Will I make time to do that? We shall see. But for now...

Week 29





- Not gonna lie, I hate having to take iron three times a day. It's annoying and it tastes gross.

Week 30








Haleigh Nicole Photography took the most beautiful maternity photos ever. The entire experience was absolute DREAM, and her work is stunning!! I will be recommending her to everyone forever.

- Felt dismayed at my weight at the doctor for the first time. It's just weird to see a number I've never approached before.
- Almost could not put on my socks.
- Eyesight is getting worse?
- Woke up and the bump was noticeably much smaller, and I didn't feel her all up in my right ribs. Turning/head down?
- First bump size comment: cashier lady at Food Lion asked my due date and said I don't look very big for that. I did not mind this comment 😂
- Back to being cripplingly sleepy, especially in the afternoons.
- Hold the roof handle in the car when I'm a passenger in the Civic so I can lift my ribs out of my uterus.

Week 31



- Lots of heartburn this week!

Week 32






I was craving a GIANT salad (that is a casserole dish), but I didn't want to make it in any part. So Gabe graciously made the entire thing while I sat at the bar and gave extremely specific instructions. I am the luckiest girl in the world.



- The only time my right ribs stop hurting is when I'm lying down or doing my stretch routine. I do not like this.
- Yep, in pain 24/7.

Week 33



- Belly skin tans weirdly? Or could be the sunscreen?
- Ribs hurt much less this week.

Week 34




Assembling Tot's dresser!



- I have to pee every time I stand up.
- My bellybutton finally popped.
- I feel noticeably "big." Riding in the backseat of the Civic on Easter was kinda tough.
- Craving: miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilk so much milk

Week 35





- Okay yes, I am finally uncomfortable on the whole XD
- Bro...I feel so pregnant. Moving is slow and difficult, I get full instantly but I'm supposed to be upping my protein.
- Although at least some of the slowness is from the first legit leg day back at the gym in a while.

I hope this won't be the last blog I post until Tot arrives, but it MIGHT be the last "trimester" blog, which is wild enough!

~ Stephanie