By request ---- Mike's version of Laney's birth story

Jill, I was able to see your FB comment through email --- so here ya go (and it debuts for most everyone else!). Mike is such a great writer and I'm so glad to have this (and Laney will be too when she's older!)


My birth story


My wife and I were blessed to find out she was pregnant with our third child in the spring of 2009. Being that this was our third, I was under the impression that things would play out exactly the same as the previous two births and it would be a walk in the park (not for her of course, but as the husband your duties are quite limited during birth). Our first two were textbook cases of induction due to hypertension in which we went to the hospital and left with a baby after numerous bouts of drugs, an epidural, some very select four letter words that I did not know my wife knew, and finally a bouncing baby boy each time. Recovery afterwards was certainly difficult, and my wife felt defeated in having to take drugs to overcome the pain. After all, women were made for this right?
So long story short, two inductions, two babies, one circumcision (the parents were baffled) one breastfed baby (the other bottle fed because we knew no better), one exhausted mommy two times over and one very busy family when it was all said and done.
So one day my wife and I are driving and she asks me (or rather tells me) “I think I want to hire a doula this time.”
I said “A do-what”. My ill-fated attempt at a pun was ill-received and met with slight but noticeable disdain. I wasn’t foreign to this concept because my wife would be one you would consider, well, “crunchy”. Ok, so she’s as hippy as hippy gets. A public-nursing, sling wearing, no vaccinating, very opinionated, did I mention sling wearing, mommy-club mommy. Our kids sleep in our bed, never had to cry it out, and certainly were more content riding on my or her back rather than using their own two feet (at least until they realized they could run). So my first impression of a doula was basically a birth coach, or so that was how I thought my first impression would go. Actually, my first impression was “oh my God who is this woman taking my place during my kids birth?”
Initially the feelings of failure flooded my psyche because never before did I feel I let her down. In hiring someone to attend our birth, my wife single handedly told me I wasn’t supportive and would rather a stranger take care of her during birth than her husband of seven years.
Lets fast-forward shall we to THE MEETING. We met Angela Hathaway at our home and to say the least deep down I was not “thrilled”. After all, this was my replacement and why would anyone be excited to meet the replacement Daddy. To be honest, I can’t hardly remember a thing we talked about during the first meeting. I burned up our time together listening in and out playing on the computer. The conversation replays in my head as type type click click water birth, type type click Cesarean, type type Los Angeles, click click click mucus plug. I draw the line at the mucus plug and pretty much turn inwards at that point for the duration of the meeting.
Some of the highlights were things like HypnoBabies, induction, water-breaking, basically a run down of what she wanted for her birth. My wife having used mostly medical intrusion in coping with the pain was anxious to have a natural birth free of drugs and interventions including breaking her water. Looking back I realize that I didn’t understand the importance of her doing this on her own (especially since it is supposed to be our last child) and how it would effect her confidence as a mother and as a woman.
So numerous sessions later, more talks of “birthing time”,” pressure waves and my favorite “mucus plugs” we find ourselves on the home stretch to birth. At this point we have found out we are having a girl, have had numerous ultrasounds, and rapidly are approaching a due date that she never came close to in the past. Both of our boys being inductions were born at 37 and 38 weeks. My wife hits 40 weeks and believes she will stay pregnant forever. Each day we try everything to induce labor. Castor Oil, walking, Primrose oil, and other unmentionables are just some of the things we tried in order to make this baby come out. At the time I worked two jobs, one of which was in the evening hours (if you call 2am to 5am evening hours). I was at work and she calls to tell me she is feeling it is time, she’s uncomfortable, and she is calling the DOULA. “Great” I say reluctantly and I finish my work and head home to find our friend Tracy and Angela there tending to my wife Amanda.
“You should probably rest right now,” or something of that effect escapes Angela’s mouth and, I must admit, at 5am sleep sounds wonderful. So I went to bed.
Now as you notice a lot of time passes and not much is really said due in part to the fact that men have a difficult time equating themselves to women during times of pregnancy because of two reasons. (A) we are not the pregnant one and (B) we are not the pregnant one. Ok, so maybe only one reason but it is true. Men find it difficult to retain the little details that their counterpart holds so dear to them because in fact they don’t feel participatory in the act unless it is during conception and delivery. Now of course, during conception, life is GOOD. During delivery, life is scary; and I don’t mean scary like scary movie scary but scary as in Holy Shit there is something alive sliding towards me and I don’t have on my catcher’s mitt kind of scary.
Hours pass and my wife walks around the house in a circles which if you have ever seen my home is pretty impressive since we can stand shoulder to shoulder down one hallway and touch both walls. Tracy leaves and labor begins to progress. After a couple guesses at how dilated she was, some serious use of a breast pump, and lots of walking my wives’ contractions begin intensifying. All the while we are listening to HypnoBabies which does help during the beginning of labor; however, my wife in the midst of 40 weeks never really got into the program like she should have and coping was becoming steadily more difficult. So she wasn’t the only one to blame I probably could have been a little more supportive of the whole HypnoBabies idea but honestly I couldn’t help but fall asleep each time and wake up wondering why I had the need to push with each powerful pressure wave…anyways.
Finally after hours of listening to this same track over and over again, and a lot of coaching from Angela on methods to try and get things moving, we decide to head to the hospital…an hour away…at 6pm. We begin our voyage to Pineville, North Carolina and luckily hit no traffic on the way there. Unluckily, my wife has begun transitional contractions and amidst the void of terrifying thing coming out of her mouth I hear “Either I’m SH*TTING or she’s coming out. The entire ride she is sitting on her knees in the front seat and Angela is riding behind us while I pat her bottom thinking “holy crap is there a seat full of pooh or a seat full of baby!? Fortunately neither happen and we arrive at the hospital around 7:15pm. Of course, on the ride down I am reflecting on the fact that here we are going to the hospital to have a baby with no anesthetic, hormones, interventions and we did it on our own with the assistance of our doula. And yes, while in the car on the way down, I utter the words “Honey, in looking back, she was worth every penny”.
Thirty minutes later after more obscenities I never knew existed, a couple pissed off registration nurses, a bathtub clogged with a towel because there was no plug (and no chance in hell she would make it to the tub), being checked and discovering she was at 9.5cm, our doctor almost not making it, some very “artistic” photos taken by our friend Tracy who barely made it, one very scared Daddy and an even more scared Mommy we ended up with a beautiful baby girl delivered naturally as intended by God. My wife was so proud that her water broke on its own, and after delivering our baby girl no two people in the world would be as high as we were. As a husband, and after the scary part of delivery, it is easy to reflect on the past. Our coaching from our doula was worth every cent and should we ever be blessed with another child, I would do it again in a heartbeat.
There was no magic, no intrusion, no voodoo or anything that she did that remotely came close to replacing me. I was freed up to take a nap during the dull points, but given freedom to do what I thought necessary to support my wife during the “good parts”. Angela will even say it herself, “I sat my ass on the couch, you two did all the work.”
At 8:30pm the action is over, the nurses are gone, and there is my wife holding our daughter with the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes. This moment would soon be disturbed by the on-duty facilities worker bringing us a stopper for a tub that never got used. “We drove all the way down here so you could get in that tub and you didn’t even need it” I say with a smile. Amanda doesn’t flinch but instead is busy nursing our new baby and all is well with our story. Thank God for our friends and family who helped us, the medical staff at our hospital, and to Angela with whom we are eternally grateful for a flawless natural birth.