part 2

I remember planning that when the contractions started I would run and put makeup on and do my hair (hello, we wanted pictures!). I figured if they were seven minutes apart I had five in between to put some lipstick on. But....then the contractions started.

I remember spending most of my labor in child’s pose, and wondering why the heck I did all this prenatal yoga if it wasn’t going to make this part easy.

I remember when mom and T showed up. It was around 12:30 AM Sunday and my contractions were consistently 4 minutes apart. I felt guilty they were, for the third night in a row, not getting any sleep. These women are super-human, I’m convinced of it.

Tiffany immediately went to work on my yoga training. She would put her hand on my back and ask me to concentrate during each contraction on breathing and filling up that part of my back with oxygen. Breathe deep all the way in, exhale all the way out. Don’t hold your breath. Even though I repeated this over and over in my head, T would have to keep reminding me to breathe out.

Every once and a while, i would take in my surroundings. Tiffany knelt on the floor next to my bed, mom was in the other room making food, it was still dark outside, and Cole was lying next to me, timing contractions. One time I looked over and saw his eyes closed and without missing a beat said "don’t you DARE fall asleep on me Stoneman." I didn’t say it because I didn’t want him to sleep if I couldn’t, I said it because I didn’t know if I could do it without him. Just having Cole right next to me was the most comfort I felt all night. He was a champ. He was strong for me.

When they were about 2 minutes apart we called our midwife, and let her know we could be on our way to the hospital in the next few hours.

I remember making a joke during a contraction. T told Cole they would know it was closer when I stopped conversing. I would get in the zone, she said. I remember making a mental note not to tell any more jokes. Jokes = not being taken seriously. I ended up cracking jokes until I started pushing. I labored there on my bed next to Cole with contractions every two minutes for about 4 more hours, until about 4AM, when T told me that if I needed to change positions, if it was getting to be too much for me, I could try the shower. I told her I was fine until the next one hit, when I practically ran to the shower with Cole and T in tow.

I remember the shower. Oh do I remember the shower. It was amazing, and I remember thinking, I can do this! The water pressure and the hot water were perfect, and I stood up and swayed back and forth, with the shower head directly on my stomach until the water got cold. I tried to hum. I think it turned out more like a moan. I considered just birthing right there, right in that shower, until the hot water ran out and never came back. I regretfully went back to the bed in child’s pose, but needless to say, the contractions changed a bit and they weren’t as comfortable as they once were, so Tiffany gave me the option to head to the hospital for some guaranteed hot water.

Cole had a talk in church on Sunday, so I remember thinking earlier that if contractions were slow in coming I could just go to sacrament meeting, listen to his talk, go to Sunday School and enjoy his lesson, then we could skip out and run to the hospital. When we hopped in the car to head to the hospital, I remember looking at the time for the first time since it started. 7 AM. Sorry Cole.

Since it was a Sunday morning, the entrance we had been told to use was closed, as was the front entrance…which left the emergency room entrance. Awesome. They sent my mom and T into another room immediately, but I needed them right there with me. The lady that helped me was a large woman that decided as she got ready for work to bathe in her grandmother's perfume. Every time she walked by I had to fully focus on not throwing up. Then she started asking me questions. Maybe she forgot I was in labor? Then she asked me my weight. I tried to tell her I haven’t weighed myself in 2.5 years, but she insisted that we guess. When Cole guessed, she looked at him, looked over at me, and laughed, saying, “honey, she’s carrying two. There’s no way that’s right”. Thanks lady. Then she sent us both into the hallway waiting room and insisted I wait there for a wheelchair. The hospital entrance was my least favorite part of Smith’s birth.

Once they wheeled me to my room, Lylaine walked in.

Lylaine is running a marathon in Antarctica soon. Yeah, she's THAT cool. She has piercing ice blue eyes and white spiky hair and the most beautiful skin you've ever seen. She exudes peace and tranquility, just like T, and all tension that came during the entrance immediately disappeared. I love Lylaine.

She checked me immediately as I was strapped up to the fetal monitor by the nurse. To ensure THAT wouldn't happen again (I wanted free movement), Cole and my mom distributed my birth plan. I arrived in my room at 8 cm dialated. Perfect. Lylaine said at any moment I would feel the urge to push. The complications only came because I had NO IDEA what that meant.