Solomon's birth story

There are few stories that seem to carry the weight of a birth story. I so appreciate the light, honest, breezy tone of this blog when I wrote about Eliana's birth. It allowed me to spill easily and without capital letters.

I've evolved a bit since then but know that my best writing comes when all is raw and fresh. With that in mind, I'd better get the details of this man's passage from my body into the world out. He turned two weeks old yesterday and with each new day, the birth feels further away. So here we go.

Early labor hit me hard this go around. Contractions came for weeks with two distinct experiences of what felt like "real" labor. All signs were pointing towards a baby that would arrive early. He lay low in my body, I was dilated and effaced and the surges continued to gain momentum. But after another Friday of contractions, I was ready to surrender. As my friend Casey said when her daughter was overdue, I was sure I'd be the first person to be pregnant forever. With her words ringing true in my busy, muddled pregnant brain, on Sunday, May 2nd, I was ready to give it my all. Jeff told me that my job for the day should be to hike to the, "Sacred Tree." The Sacred Tree is a hell of a hike for a massive pregnant machine, but it seemed like a good goal. That tree is my special place, the walk my meditative time. With all of Solomon's birth tunes busting in my ears, I set out on Jumbo. The day was beautiful, green, full of spring promise and unpredictability. A few times I almost turned around, wondering what sort of gluestick does a hike like that at 41 weeks. But I wanted to see my tree.

I made it there, focused on the image of that tree, that tree that just pops out of nowhere on a treeless mountainside. A little treat after long switchbacks. A sign of life and all it's unpredictability. After a few deep breaths, I headed back down. Jeff's mom had given me the tremendous gift of a massage and I had an appointment for later that afternoon. It was my day to indulge.

My calm and tuckered self relaxed contentedly on the massage table. I had asked Erin, the beautiful masseuse, about her knowledge of acupressure points known to induce labor. She said she'd apply her knowledge and we'd see what happened. After weeks of walking and spicy food, I figured acupressure couldn't hurt but wasn't a believer in any of these tricks to actually induce a whole lot of anything. Solomon was coming when he was ready.

I left Erin feeling totally full. Totally ready. I don't remember what we did Sunday night. I think by that point, I was ready to embrace a new week, ready to be pregnant for as long as my little man had in mind. I was done with false hopes. Ready to just settle into my big self for a bit longer.

Monday was a normal work day. I was able to finish a Mother's Day project with the kids that I had been stressing about. I enjoyed their energy and humor and creativity, taking in all the special moments we enjoy together, knowing that my time with them was fleeting. I had an appointment with Jeannie over my lunch break. She basically said she didn't want to touch me, because she had stripped another woman's membranes and she would probably go into labor later that day. Okay, I told myself. Stay in there little buddy, there's a line-up and we're still not at the top of the list.

I left feeling fairly light about it all. I called Casey to see if she wanted to meet me at Bernice's for a quick bite before I had to return to work. We sat together, I watched beautiful Ophelia, watched my girlfriend navigate through the world with this beautiful new creature strapped to her chest. I was so happy to be with them, so happy to steal a few minutes with my girl before I went back to work.

Before I went back to school, I remembered some gift credit I had at Betty's. I suddenly wanted something new and special. Something I could wear now, something that would make my round self feel a bit more lovely. Aimee picked these perfect, light silver circle earrings. They were just the thing. We talked about the end of pregnancy and feeling beautiful. We laughed and I thought, like I always do, about how I love where I live. Love frequenting places where the owners are my friends. It makes spending money feel a bit like helping someone else out.

The energy back at school felt a bit hectic, a bit chaotic. I moved through my afternoon lessons but was very happy to head home at the end of the day. Around 4:30 Jeff and Els made it home. I was feeling sort of crampy and nauseous, a bit like I was about to get my period. I told Jeff I need to take a little time out in the tub.

The contractions were the same as they had been for weeks. Light, mellow, consistent. I lay in the tub and read my magazine, sort of paying attention to the intervals, sort of not wanting to because I didn't want to get my hopes up. Jeff's buddy was over and they were hanging out in the other room while Eliana ran around and entertained them. It was a normal Monday afternoon except I was in the tub a few hours early.

I had no appetite and figured it was because of my special Bernice's sandwich that afternoon. I put Jeff on dinner and he promptly began making Annie's mac and cheese for he and Elie. The pungent, disgusting smell of mac and cheese cooking was my first sign that this could be real labor. I abhorred all weird smells when I was in labor with Els and this was the first time I'd smelled something so repulsive since her birth.

I got out of the tub and decided to change my activities. Often a change in routine makes the contractions stop. I shuffled about the house tidying up. The contractions kept coming. I found myself gravitating towards the end of the sofa during a contraction. My arms straight, hands pushing down onto the sturdy end, standing on tip-toe. A weird gravity thing now that I think about it. I was pushing down with my upper body, but elevating with my lower body. Weird.


Jeff was afraid to jump the gun. He didn't want to call Jeannie too early. His mama was on deck to take Eliana, but he also didn't want her to come over too soon, worried that we'd end up in another false labor situation. I wanted more of his attention during contractions, but Eliana and the mac and cheese seemed to be dominating. I called Casey.

Hey. I may or may not be in labor but I need you. I need someone to get on my birthing wave length over here. I'm also out of gatorade. I need you and I need gatorade.

She said she'd be right over. Things were definitely heating up by the time she got here. I convinced Jeff to call Roseann who, like a swift and sturdy angel, swept her into her arms and headed up the hill. Thank God. One of my biggest anxieties involved Eliana and what we'd do with her during the whole home birth thang. Her safe and secure with her Nana and PopPop was perfect. I was full of gratitude that they had decided to postpone their time with their new granddaughter in Portland to be here for our little man's birth. Thank you both!

With Happy Sad out of the house, the mood shifted. I lit some candles and laid out my yoga mat. I put on my, "Birth or Bust" mix that I'd finally completed on Sunday night. It's full of soulful songs. The songs that I play during the end of my yoga class when things get a bit slower, a bit deeper. All my ladies with their beautiful voices that carry me up mountains, that move me with their depth and talent.


In between contractions I'd move a bit on the mat, talk about a particular song and how awesome I thought it was. Jeff began to take position on my back during contractions, his hands pushing deep into me. Casey gathered the rhythm and was ready if Jeff was out of the room. She cut up melon and put grapes on a plate for me. I ate the fruit, drank the gatorade, tried to fuel myself for whatever lay ahead.

At some point Jeff called Jeannie. She said she'd get her things ready, but didn't give us a definitive arrival time. Casey checked in with Richard and Ophelia was up and ready to eat. This is when things shifted in our little home. Casey left around nine and the new crew quickly arrived. Jeannie was first with her gear and focus. Perhaps her midwife sixth sense kicked in and told her that it was time. Thank god she didn't wait for another phone call because she might have not made it in time. Tina, her nurse came. Jody, my doula and friend came (bringing, thank goodness, the doppler that Jeannie had forgotten). Joellen, my girlfriend and our official birth photographer, came. And things started to really move.



This is the point in the story where things lose focus. The contractions began to get more painful. I stayed in my special spot on the sofa, pushing down and elevating with Jeff pounding on my lower back. I don't remember talking too much between contractions. Maybe I was stretching. I wasn't scared, but I wasn't calm. It was kind of like that feeling of being on a giant roller coaster. You know when the cart is clicking up the big hill that shit's about to get wild. It's scary in that exciting, totally of the moment, way. I guess I kinda felt like that.

At some point I tried to walk across the room (which, incidentally, is quite small). I couldn't make it and stopped at this leather chair. I told Jody I was feeling pushy and I remember her voice, Jeannie, she says she's feeling pushy! It was that word, "pushy" that brought a new intensity to the scene. I think I transitioned leaning on that leather chair. Jeff's old leather chair from his room in New Jersey. How these weird inanimate household objects made their mark on this Monday evening.

We all navigated to my bedroom. Now if my living room is small, my bedroom is tiny. One of the things I continue to marvel at is that so many adults actually managed to work together to bring a child out of my body in that tiny room! I was now on the bed, trying to settle into contractions on my back. My bed has this awesome, wooden carved headboard that I've never appreciated more than during those big contractions. I gripped the board behind me and writhed and growled through the pain.

This part is harder and harder to write about. The contractions increased. My body pushed and contracted at the same time. I pooped, perhaps once, perhaps twice. Jody, bless her huge heart, wiped my bum. I apologized to my posse for the smell, but I didn't really care. This was not a glamorous moment. It was hardcore. Warrior-like. Humble. Raw and real. We kept on rocking.

Jeannie wanted me to hold my legs apart. I hated this. Apparently they are pretty strong because I had Jody on one trying like hell with her little frame to hold it open. Tina was on the other. I was not being too compliant. Jeannie's voice was what kept me going. Gillian I see his head. Just a few more pushes. So calm, so in the zone. If there was anyone I was going to listen to it was her.


Eliana shot out like the spritely, skinny little thing she is. Homeboy weighed in at birth a whopping two whole pounds more and I certainly felt it when I was pushing. With Eliana the pushes were involuntary, a sort of bearing down with my body. With Solomon, I pushed. I pushed hard. I say now that any woman who has had to push for any length of time is absolutely amazing. I am extremely blessed because after about fifteen minutes of pushing, with a good five minute or so break in between when I thought for sure he wouldn't actually come out, my body bore down once again and out he slid.


His little arm was out by his head, a fist pump, a glorious victory stance. I didn't cry when he came out. I beamed. I was so relieved. I said something like, thank god I don't have to do that ever again! I felt victorious. I felt so, so very happy.


And that was it. A Monday evening in my house turned to wild birth mania, turned back to sort of normal. I held him. I took in his perfection. His big lips, his little fingers and toes. His perfect head. Jeannie and Tina did all their nurse-y, midwife-y things with measurements and numbers. We were all pretty shocked at his hefty weight, which added to the feeling of badass victoriousness that inhabited me.



And from there, it all gets real again. We called Jeff's mama Roseann and asked her to come down and meet her grandson. Everyone huddled around and watched Solomon's first movements out in the big bad world. They then celebrated, Jeff, Jody, Joellen and Roseann popping beers in the kitchen, toasting to the new man.


I lingered in the birth haze. I bled a lot. I bled a lot on my hard wood floors, which was kinda surreal. I took a shower. Tina stayed and watched my bleeding while Jeannie headed out to catch some Z's because another lucky woman was in labor. I thanked the universe for my lucky timing, for the fact that I had my midwife with me, my daughter with her grandma, my BFF's clocked in at various points, my doula available, my husband ready. But mainly I thanked my little man. For being so compliant. For arriving with such grace. For being so perfect.

The bleeding subsided, the floors were cleaned, the bed re-made. We lay together, the three of us, in quiet, perfect bliss. Our Solomon. Our man of peace. He had finally arrived. And every single minute of wait was so absolutely necessary. We were complete.