It was 2:30am when I was woken by an incredibly loud pop sound, so loud that I thought my two year old (sleeping next to me) had broken a bone. I quietly looked her up and down, but nothing was wrong. I realized, oh… this is happening, my water must have broken, and stood up slowly….. but nothing happened, so I decided to lay back down. Seconds later a trickle ran through my legs and before I soaked my daughters bed, I ran to my husband who was asleep in our bedroom. Then, gush… that gush gave me a surge of endorphins and I yelled “my water broke!” in the giddiest voice I remember so very well. I let him go back to sleep, and I called my midwife. I was 39 + 3 and even being my second child, I had many false alarms, for once this wasn’t one of them. She told me to rest before contractions began, so I went downstairs to labor alone in the quiet of the night. I called my photographer, she didn’t pick up, So I messaged her a few times. Nothing.
The boy I had always dreamed of having was finally on his way. To this day, he is the only living male in both sides of my family in over 50 years… he is incredibly special…and I was ready.
The contractions picked up quickly, and for a while I kept myself in a calm, peaceful state… by 4:00am it became much more intense and I called my husband to come to me. He held me tight through those early contractions, I needed him. Then something changed, it was too much. I yelled, I screamed, I tried to breathe but I was stuck in the pain. My husband called my midwife to come. He tried the photographer again, nothing, (in the end she never showed).
We decided to go back upstairs to my bathroom, and we filled the tub that when we bought the house, I dreamed of giving birth in.
I had forgotten how hard it was, I screamed and cried and begged it to stop. I didn’t know it then but looking back I know I was stuck in fight or flight mode due to trauma of my past, and I was so scared. The contractions never ended, I never got a break. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t let myself let go.
My daughter slept through the night for the first time that night. She woke up at 6am that morning and came to find me laboring intensely in the tub. She didn’t stay long, and that was okay, she wanted to play instead.
I had my midwife kick my husband out a while earlier, I felt primal. I needed only women in my sacred space. Around 6:30am, I Finally I felt the urge to push, and my midwife called my husband back thinking my son would be there quickly. But he wasn’t coming quickly. After 45 minutes of body splitting pain, and after my midwife untangled my baby boy from a tight wrap in his cord, he was finally born. All 9.1lbs of him born from my little petite body, and not a tear in sight.
I will never forget that moment, holding my big sweet boy after everything we went through and all I could say was “I did it, I really did it”. I had never felt so strong, I was so much stronger than I had ever realized.
My daughter finally decided to come in the room about an hour after he was born. At that point in her 2 years of life, she didn’t talk much, if at all. But, she changed the moment he was born. It was like her candle had been lit, and she finally began speaking, she just needed him.
That was 4 years ago, today, and the strength I saw in myself from that birth has changed my life, and everything in it.
My dear son, you showed me my power.