A Birth Story

Leo Macarius, March 16, 2014

I have been wanting to put Leo's birth story in writing for some time now. With December fast approaching I thought I should hustle before the details of two children's births blur in my memory.

So here goes, and apologies for any oversharing.

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I always expected Leo to arrive past his due date, not only because first babies often do, but because it was in my family history. My older brother was 13 days over due and I was 10, so you can see my reasoning. Leo's due date was March 7 and I remember the number of well-meaning messages I received that day from family and friends telling me to "hang in there," and "any day now," despite my spending the better part of 40 weeks telling them he'd be late. Fortunately I wasn't in any particular discomfort and was happily spending my days doing little other than walking the neighbourhood, reading, praying and watching movies.

As Leo's due date drew to a close, there was a great hope that he would make his début on the 12th, the feast day of St Gregory the Great, Joel's Patron Saint. Alas, that wasn't to be either and as the week wore on I began to feel impatient. People kept asking if there was any news (I directed them here), or offering their own stories of over due babes. As ridiculous as it sounds, I felt like I was letting the team down, everyone was waiting and nothing was happening and eventually people get tired of waiting.

At my 41 week check up I had a strip and stretch done in an effort to help bring on natural labour. If it worked I was to expect to be in labour within 24 hours, if not, my induction was booked for the following Tuesday. Needless to say, I didn't have the best nights' sleep with all the anticipation and uncertainty, but I certainly made up for it with a huge morning nap on the Saturday. At around 2pm that afternoon (just on 24 hours after my strip and stretch) I had what can only be described as a menstrual cramp. It was brief and while I didn't have another cramp until 4, I knew we were close.

By 7 that night Joel and I were pretty sure I was in the early stages of labour. Since my contractions were irregular and not particularly painful, we continued our night as usual. We went to bed but were unable to sleep and my contractions were slowly demanding more of my attention. The next few hours are a blur of assuming various positions in the lounge room in an effort to find some relief, taking a hot bath and watching the final episode of the BBC's Pride and Prejudice. Yep, I was sitting on the couch having contractions while Elizabeth Bennet assured Lady Catherine de Bourgh she was not engaged to Mr Darcy. I didn't make it to the double wedding though as I brought up my dinner. A sure sign my body had more important things than digestion to contend with.

We called the hospital and the midwife on call told us to come in when/if I needed pain medication or when my contractions were consistently drawing closer together. From the outset I had envisioned a drug-and-gas-free natural birth but was fully aware I would be entering an unknown and my plans might have to change accordingly. It wasn't long after we got off the phone with the midwife that my contractions started coming closer together and we decided it was time to head to the hospital. Joel sent a message to our family and priest letting them know. We had mentioned to our family that we would send a message when I was going to hospital and then again after I'd given birth and things had settled. We told them that if they called or messaged we wouldn't answer and to not be offended.

We checked in at 2am on Sunday morning, quietly excited that by the days' end, we'd be holding our precious boy. Next door was another mother in the middle of labour and I remember Joel and I looking at each other and saying that it sounded painful and we hoped she would deliver soon.* I couldn't help wondering while we listened though, if I'd be making those same intense groaning sounds. I was soon to find out.

One thing I really appreciated about our hospital experience was that it was largely run by the midwives and they adopted an attitude of 'leave well enough alone.' So for most of my labour, it was just Joel and I in the birthing suite and I really liked that. At various stages a midwife would check in and ask how I was doing. There was talk of using the gas. I was tempted but kept insisting (to myself more than anyone else) that that last contraction wasn't so bad, I can go another one, if the next one's really bad then I might have some gas. For a good while I was sitting in a chair, hot pack on my back and Joel beside me holding my hand. With each contraction I squeezed his hand and he would gently remind me to relax my grip which would in turn help me to relax my whole body. That's the thing about pain, if you allow yourself to feel its full effect, it can leave your body quicker, whereas if you tense up it takes longer to subside. Think about it the next time you stub your toe. Joel was amazing at helping me to do this and I honestly think I would have reached for the gas and drugs if he hadn't been there telling me again and again and again that I could do it.

Eventually the hot pack brought little relief so I moved into the shower and spent the next few hours leaning on an exercise ball while hot water hit my back. This is when those animal-like groans started. If you ask Joel it was probably the most helpless he felt the entire labour. I was in my own world by this point, each contraction taking my full attention. It was during this time I felt my waters break and my midwife, Janet, said that if I wanted to I could deliver in the shower. There was no way I wanted to do that, it was small and poky and the thought of delivering in that space made me feel claustrophobic, so we decided it was best I come out. It was about 7am.

I have no idea how dilated I was at this point, only that it felt like no progress was being made. Leo was taking his sweet time. Eventually though, it was time to push and that's what I did. Joel fed me ice chips and placed damp paper towels on my forehead and chest as directed. I can't sing his praises enough. He was incredible and never stopped telling me I could do it or how he proud he was of me. He put on our playlist and I remember hearing Bon Iver, Joshua Radin, Powderfinger and Silverchair playing. I think I asked for Silverchair's song to be skipped, it wasn't labour-appropriate.

I was then told some happy news, we could see the head! Janet passed me a mirror. Biggest anticlimax ever. Leo's head was a slither, practically indiscernible unless you knew what you were looking for. Janet laughed at my lack of enthusiasm. I remember looking at the clock as the morning progressed. I thought about where we usually are on a Sunday morning- in Liturgy. I noticed the time was 10:30, Orthos would be starting. Father would have told everyone before he began that I was in labour and to keep us in their prayers. How precious to know that that Sunday, not only did we have the prayers and well-wishes of our family, but that of our Church family too. We weren't far from anyone's thoughts that morning and it still brings tears to my eyes to remember just how loved we were that day (and are still, of course). Even if it meant some people did some silly things that day. Like phoning the hospital.

Another midwife, Melissa, came in in between a contraction and told me my Dad was on the phone and asked if I wanted to speak to him. I think I laughed at the absurdity of receiving a phone call whilst in labour, but was a little frustrated because I asked Melissa as politely as possible to relay the following: Tell him that we will call once I've had the baby. I can laugh now and I know it came from a place of love and excitement, but in the moment I was just shaking my head. If you knew my Dad, this is fairly typical behaviour.

I was starting to tire and Janet knew I wasn't making the most of my contractions. I would push for as long as I could then need to stop and catch my breath but my contraction was still going and I needed to keep pushing. She kept telling me to use my contractions and somehow, I managed to without passing out like I was sure I would. When I saw Melissa come back and stay, setting up a little tray of medical equipment, my spirits lifted. I was nearly there. She wouldn't be here if it wasn't nearly over. After a few more pushes and perhaps the most intense burning sensation, Leo Macarius was born. It was 10:54. I was holding my son while he wriggled his perfect little head and Janet and Melissa did their midwife thing and helped me lay down on the bed. All I can remember thinking and saying to Joel was "wow." I thought I would cry when Leo was born but I didn't, I was euphoric and kept introducing myself to him. Joel cut the cord and had tears in his eyes as he looked at me and then to Leo. He was finally here, in my arms. So tiny and so perfect and ours.

Unbeknownst to me I had a couple of minor tears that needed stitches. At the Doctor's recommendation I took the gas and was told to keep breathing it in. Joel left the room at this stage to call our family while Janet helped Leo to latch and feed since I was so high on the gas I was useless. I apologised to Leo and assured him I wouldn't always be so hopeless.

In what felt like minutes, I was stitched up, in the shower and can remember hearing Joel's step-Dad outside. Isn't it a 2 hour drive from Brisbane? Wasn't Leo just born? Had they already been on their way? These were the thoughts I had while I was getting dressed and listening to Joel talking with his Mum, step-Dad and sister. My parents and brother arrived soon after and I don't think I've ever been happier to see them. I was on cloud nine, so completely proud and in love with my son. That afternoon was one of the happiest of my life. We all took turns gazing in awe at Leo, holding him and breathing him in. The joy in that room was palpable and I will never ever forget it.

First family photo 

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With just as much excitement, love and healthy fear, I approach the delivery of Littlest. I realise it will be it's own unique experience, but remembering Leo's birth story and reading the birth stories of others (I always return to Joanna's, Wendy's and Erin's) fills me with courage that I can walk this road again and participate in one of the most profound gifts I can experience as a woman.

Thanks for reading xx


*The woman giving birth next door? C from our antenatal class. She delivered a beautiful baby girl. We ended up sharing a hospital room, were in the same mother's group and now catch up a few times a week.