Jude's Birth Story

Jude was due on Christmas Day. Yes, December 25th. I didn't think I would get pregnant the instant we started trying, so I didn't really do the math; I'm not that great at math. And so there it was, a big fat digital yes on the pregnancy test, and a big old Merry Christmas on the due date. Naturally, I tried to get him out a little early. My mom and I walked miles and miles and miles. When Christmas Eve arrived without a baby, I decided to put myself on bed rest. For the next two days, I relaxed as much as possible, in the hopes that my son wouldn't have to share his birthday with Jesus. It worked. He got to have his own day.

Photo by Meg Messina Photography

When I went into labor, I did what I'm told a lot of first timers do: I went to the hospital too early. Even though I was 4 centimeters and vomiting, it just wasn't really happening. So home I went to get some "sleep."

Thankfully, Jason was able to rest while I labored quietly in the dark, sitting on the edge of the couch with my kitty doula circling me, rubbing my back and belly. Those few hours of active labor were actually wonderful. It wasn't that it didn't hurt, but it was totally manageable, and my sweet purring cat really helped me feel relaxed and comfortable.

Then I had to pee, but it wasn't pee. My water broke in a huge gush (I was so grateful I'd made it to the bathroom) and IT WAS ON! I woke Jason, he called the midwife, and off we went to the hospital; this time, no one was sending me home, and I could get that epidural I planned on.

We arrived (through the ER) and I yelled at someone for suggesting that I fill out more paperwork. I got checked in, but just as I got settled in the room, there was a nurse shift change that happened to coincide with a major shift in my labor. I was in serious transition, but I didn't know it and neither did my new nurse because other than continually ripping of the monitor straps, I was just totally within myself, quietly enduring some serious "I'm pretty sure I'm being ripped apart" pain. I wanted that epidural YESTERDAY. So the anaesthesiologist came in and did her thing before anyone checked me and my midwife was nowhere in sight. A mere 15 minutes after I went numb, I declared that I had to push. No one believed me. I had gone from 5 centimeters to 10 in 30 minutes.

When I was checked, I was told not to push because no one was there to deliver and no one was ready. Not pushing when you want to push is not fun; I'm pretty sure it would have been totally impossible without the epidural. Finally, everyone arrived, and in just a few strong pushes my 9 lb 6 oz baby boy was placed in my arms.

Photo by Meg Messina Photography

The happiness I felt in that moment is impossible to describe. It was awe, love, relief, and joy all wrapped into one. The whole thing just felt so miraculous. I know women do it everyday, but one can't help but feel as though growing a life inside you and bringing it into the world is extremely special, no matter how commonplace.

My sweet Jude River, how lucky I was to become your mother that day.