Penelope Jean Hunter

*warning: talk of blood and placenta*

This entire pregnancy seemed surreal - from the very beginning when I saw the two pink lines until the end when I realized that no amount of denial or lack of preparation was going to stop this thing from happening and I better wrap my brain around it. While we were living in New York, we talked a lot about where the baby would be born. I must have bounced back and forth from midwife-attended homebirth to OB-attended hospital birth a MILLION times. It wasn't until I was approaching 7 and a half months pregnant that I dared to seriously mention the possibility of a home-cooked birth (aka unassisted childbirth, do-it-yourself birth, or crazy - whatever you want to call it). Kyle was extremely reluctant to say the least. I never pushed it (at least I don't think I did - but I guess you can ask him). I did, however, have a lot of anxiety over moving to Wisconsin at 34 weeks pregnant and not having insurance for a hospital birth until over 38 weeks pregnant. I tried to put it out of my mind and just focus on how I was going to take care of 5 kids with a husband starting residency. Thankfully, my mom made arrangements to work from Wisconsin for an entire month - so I didn't have to stress about the first few weeks at least.

Finally at 38 weeks pregnant, after a lot of discussion, textbook reading, fear-releasing and reassurance, Kyle and I felt okay about planning for the birth at home on our own. We went over our list of possible complications that would lead us to transfer to the hospital (a few minutes away) and then tried to focus our energy on having a normal, easy delivery.

Amazingly, I felt pretty good at the end of the pregnancy. I had been suffering from some pretty intense pelvic pain for the majority of the pregnancy, but once we finished moving into the house and I was able to take it easy, I found that even the pelvic pain lessened.

My parents arrived on Sunday, July 11th. When I saw their car pull up to the curb, I felt physically uplifted and the stress just melted away. I hoped that their arrival would be the magical trigger to put me into labor, but instead we waited a grueling 4 more days. Each day brought with it more contractions, some rhythmic and some even slightly intense. I would question each contraction, "Is this it?" Then my mom would chuckle at me and remind me that if I have to ask, then it probably isn't, which I already knew but somehow the game continued.

We walked as much as our schedules and my energy would allow, and I was pretty discouraged each morning when I woke up pregnant. On Wednesday night, the contractions seemed to gain a new peak of intensity, but stayed spaced so widely apart and so sporadic that I still questioned labor or not. I woke often that night with each contraction - not sure how far apart they were. On Thursday morning, the contractions were still there. When we finally started timing them, they seemed to be consistently around 20 minutes apart. Just far enough apart that I doubted this was baby day - yet just consistent enough that I couldn't help but question it. Throughout the morning they did seem to come at closer intervals, but still not so regular or intense that I knew for sure this was it. I do remember at some point around the middle of the day experiencing such a pull in my back that the dreaded "back labor" thought entered my mind. It was around then that I told someone (mom? dad?), "I don't feel like I'm in labor, but if this goes on much longer I'm going to go to the hospital." I told them right then and there that this labor would be much more like Sullivan's (pain all in my back) than Truman's (very little pain in back until the end). It was right at the point that I told my mom I didn't know if I should go take a nap because I was feeling so tired - or if I should go for a walk and try to get the show on the road. I decided to ponder this a little while I changed my clothes and went to the bathroom. I had a few decent contractions while I did this - decent enough that I questioned whether I would be able to sleep at all - and decided to dedicate ONE hour to the mall and see where we were at after that. I had my choice of walking partners, Kyle or my mom, and chose my mom. I hope Kyle didn't feel slighted, but my logic was really sensible in that I knew Kyle had the equipment and experience to set up the birth pool and supplies - and I didn't want to ask my dad to do it and have to explain everything. We left for the mall and Kyle got to work setting things up for the birth. At this point I felt confident that a baby would be born on this calendar day, though I predicted some time before midnight.

I think we got to the mall around noon. We did a quick jaunt to one end and back up the other side. The Gap was having an excellent T-shirt sale, which meant that Mom wanted to browse the racks and stock up. I had a contraction so intense that it took a lot of willpower to not cry out and cause a scene. I put my arms up on top of the rack and attempted to look normal in that position until the contraction ended. Another contraction hit as we were paying at the counter - and another before we could even get out the door and into the mall again. My mom didn't seem quite aware of my exact headspace at this point and asked if I wanted to stop at Bath and Body Works. I tried to keep my head from rolling and asked to go home. I *still* thought birth would come some time before midnight - and the thought did enter my mind that if I wanted pain relief, we needed to get to the hospital soon. We got into the car and I asked my mom to call home and tell Kyle to fill the pool. I wanted to get into it as soon as we got home. I looked at the time and it was 1:07 p.m.

I walked into the house with a feeling of relief. Upstairs to change, pee, mentally gather courage, and then downstairs to the pool, which was NOT ready for me. Tears are falling inside my head, yet outwardly I had no choice but to focus on each contraction - the peak in my back was an intensity that I cannot even describe. I had been managing without pressure on my sacrum, but no more. I climbed into a birth pool that was only a few inches deep and now no longer actively filling because we were out of hot water. My mom put a few pots on the stove to boil. Kyle brought our supplies downstairs and laid out the plastic sheets, towels, and baby stuff. I'm sure it had to be about 15 minutes later when I cried (like tears cried) that I needed more water. The relief wasn't there and I was feeling extremely tense - nothing at all like I had envisioned for this birth. I knew from a little self-examination that I was advanced in dilation (8+ cm) and the birth was going to happen soon. Visions of the hospital and an epidural and nurses taking care of my every need - these slipped away from me as a possibility. It was the first time that I realized I was getting exactly what I asked for - a home delivery with only my husband and family for support. I had a little built up fear that started to leak out right then.

Kyle turned on the hot water from the shower at almost the exact time my mom brought some water from the stove. The sudden rush of warm water was very relaxing and helped me ease through another few contractions. I did request that Kyle change and get into the pool with me (something we hadn't really decided on at any point). I wanted his counterpressure on my back, and I think I also wanted the familiarity of delivering the baby in a position and circumstance that I already knew (same way Truman was born). I stayed kneeling in the pool with my head rested on the edge. I kept my eyes closed and forehead on the rim. When I finally lifted my head and saw my mom standing there, I started to sputter and tear up. She gave me a hug and it was as though my held back emotions exploded. I told her I was scared, that it hurt, that I didn't want to do it, that I couldn't do it. I felt a lot of comfort as she hugged me back and fed me strength. When she pulled away I felt a new resolve - and I also knew the baby would be born within a few contractions.

I experienced that semi-peaceful feeling that comes when the contractions have ended their dilation work and are getting ready to push the baby out. I could feel the complete relaxation of my uterus. I asked her to get the kids. She and Kyle both questioned my timing - they didn't want the kids to in the room too long or to see me in pain through contractions. I yelled out to them that the baby *was* coming and with the next contraction I would be pushing. I still doubted they believed me, but sure enough with the next contraction I felt the baby move past my dilated cervix and I swear I even heard a *thud* sound and felt her head drop down. I tried everything in my power to NOT push and managed to get through the next contraction without adding too much extra pressure. I told my mom the baby was crowning and she brought the kids down quickly. They lined up, leaning over the back of the couch to await their little sister - all except Truman who wandered over to the side of the pool. He had the most confused and intense expression on his face. When I see the way he looks in the pictures it pulls on my heart a little to know that was the exact moment he lost his place as the "baby" - at only 16 months old. It just didn't seem right.

The kids were lined up to avoid seeing too much of the graphic stuff - and just enough of the baby. When the next contraction peaked, I delivered her head. I expected a pause at that point - but there was no real pause. She turned on her own to line up her shoulders and then her whole body slipped out without much help from me. Without even looking at her, I knew she was smaller than my last 2 babies. The actual delivery was so much easier - no pushing for the body at all.

Kyle caught her under the water and lifted her right out. I turned over as gracefully as one can without abdominal muscles and rested against the side of the pool with my new baby in my arms. I can honestly say I have never seen a newborn baby so pink and vigorous immediately after birth. It was as though she wanted to make sure we knew she was healthy and strong and that her portion of the delivery went well - a reassurance that we didn't take for granted. She cried out a little and calmed quickly. She breathed easily and calmly. We thought to look at the clock and decided that she was born at 2:18 p.m., barely an hour from the time we left the mall - and only a few hours from the time that I finally believed I was in labor.

I held her and examined her every wrinkle. She had virtually no vernix on her body and her feet and hands had dry, scaly skin - identical to Sullivan's skin at birth. Of course I thought she was the smallest baby I had every held - but I also admitted that I am a terrible guesser at that point - all of my babies felt like the smallest baby I had ever held, even the 9+ pounders. It took only a glance to see that her feet and hands were a direct gift from my genes. I have kind of always hated my ginormous hands - but I absolutely love them on her. She also seems to have my feet, though hers are so long and bony that I sure hope she gets some fat on her calves to balance things out down there. Her arms are endless and long, also like mine - and frankly I just think her whole body, face, and internal organs take after me exactly. Hehe.

After adoring her for about 20 minutes I felt the oh-so-unwelcome contractions begin again. Her cord was so short (seems to be a trend in my babies) that I could barely hold her to my breast to nurse - I checked to see if it had lengthened at all (sign that the placenta had detached and was ready to be expelled), but it hadn't seemed to gain any length. I decided to move to the bathroom at that point and with some tricky handling of a still-attached baby, I stood up and carried her into the bathroom where I sat on the toilet hoping to keep things as clean as possible. I felt the urge to pee at that point, hesitated, wondering if I had any tears, but went ahead. Surprisingly I felt no stinging and hoped that meant things were intact. After a few more minutes of holding the baby wrapped in a towel in the bathroom, I asked Kyle to clamp the cord. I've never had such an up close view of the process and it was not what I expected at all - so firm and rubbery looking. We used a hemostat to clamp the placental side and a cord ring for baby's side. I started to feel impatient for the placenta and was feeling chilly sitting naked and wet in the bathroom, so I asked Kyle to hold a bowl (so unromantic, right?) and I bore down slightly. To my relief, the placenta slid right out. Overall, I bled very little. Whether this was just luck or because I took a birth prep formula, I guess I'll never know. I rinsed off and my mom helped me into pajamas. Kyle was so attentive and helpful, though I do wonder if his medical mind was having a hard time coping with everything that was going on. He asked me multiple times about my bleeding - and each time I reminded him that if I felt fine and looked fine, I was most likely fine. He did check my pulse at one point (it was great) - and after a few more reassurances he seemed to relax about it.

I just loved the hour or so that passed next. Food in my stomach, baby wrapped in soft blanket, kids admiring and wanting their turn to hold her and cuddle (all except Tru who still seemed a little confused), more food in my stomach, nursing baby, calling family and friends, and finally the time to nap and rest with my sweet newborn.

As I reflected on the birth, I felt so much peace. I know most people won't understand why we decided to have our baby this way, but I felt so protected during the process, so close to my family. I feel blessed to have been able to offer my baby an entrance into this life completely void of pain, strangers, procedures, disturbances - I could go on and on. She has the most peaceful half-smile expression on her face almost all the time, even now a month later. I find it hard to believe that she isn't already smiling at us - giving us love. She has been absolutely spoiled in her first month of life - passed from my arms to her dad's arm to her grandmother's arm to her grandfather's arms and to any and all of her siblings' arms - over and over again.

Welcome Home, Penelope Jean Hunter.

8 lb. 2 oz.

19.5 inches

07/15/10

2:18 p.m.

Perfect.