My mom, Theresa, died in 2013 from brain cancer at the age of 58. She was the best mom and I miss her every day. Grace Theresa’s due date happened to be on my mother’s birthday, November 12th.
Throughout my pregnancy, I never imagined that I would actually make it to November 12th because I had my first child, Ridge Michael, exactly a month early for reasons unknown. Thankfully, he didn’t spend any time in the NICU, however, he did need to spend about five days in a biliblanket at home due to concerning jaundice levels and breastfeeding a preterm baby came with some extra challenges.
When I became pregnant with Grace, I didn’t even consider that her birth would be pre-term or come with complications associated with being pre-term. However, after my first ultrasound, the doctor recommended I take weekly progesterone injections to help prevent pre-term labor from happening again. This surprised me and launched me into a deep investigation regarding the safety and effectiveness of the drug they were offering, Mekena. After much contemplation and hesitation, I agreed to the shots. And though I was now doing something to help avoid an early delivery, I was more paranoid than ever that I would end up with a baby in the NICU this time around.
All that said, I fully expected to deliver early or at least shortly after the last shot at 36 weeks, no where close to November 12th.
So when November 5th rolled around and I realized I only needed my baby girl to cook for one more week to make it to my mom’s birthday, I started fantasizing about the possibility of actually making it to my due date. I even wrote down an intention for how I wanted labor to go:
“In my ideal fantasy, I start contracting heavily around 8pm on November 11th, right after we put Ridge to bed. My dad and Evelyn get to our house by 10pm, we go to the hospital and I’m 7cm dilated and have a baby shortly after midnight on November 12th.”
I shared this intention with my doula, my husband, and a few others, hoping that putting it out into the universe would make it a reality. I also considered some super non-invasive, natural induction techniques that I could do the weekend before Monday the 12th to help get things going. I had declined cervical checks at every weekly OB appointment so I had no idea if I was dilated or not.
So on Saturday the 10th, I walked around the block in the morning, did a shortened version of the Miles Circuit to help with Grace’s positioning, did a few squats in the afternoon and took another short walk in the evening.
My husband and I watched a movie in bed with our 3.5 year old that finished around 9:30pm. We put him to bed and even though the plan was to have sex the following night, knowing that it could help with dilation, we were both in the mood and didn’t feel like waiting.
So at 9:45pm we had sex, and let me just say, that shit worked.
At 10pm, super mild cramps began. By 10:15pm, I thought maybe I was just having gas pains. At 10:30pm, sitting on the toilet, I summoned Chris to start making calls because I was finally accepting the fact that the pain I was feeling was not gas, but in fact moderately unpleasant, rather frequent contractions.
I rinsed off in the shower and while attempting to get dressed in our bedroom in between contractions, my water broke at 10:35pm. I quickly stuffed a towel between my legs, leaking, naked, while our roommate Victoria and Chris put fresh sheets on the bed.
My doula, Sally, texted me at 10:40pm with simply, “I’m here.” So I called her and realized I couldn’t talk through contractions!
By 11:05pm, Chris and I began the five minute drive to the hospital. About half way there, Chris didn’t know where his keys were. My keys were in the ignition and he thought his were in his pocket, but they were no where to be found. In the 15 years I’ve spent with Chris, he has NEVER misplaced his keys and never leaves the house without them. This is not an exaggeration. So at 11:10pm, he stopped the car on corner of High St & Church St to look for his keys! I promptly got out of car to endure the craziest contraction yet, aware of the fact that cars were driving around us. I convinced Chris that his keys were not a priority and getting me to the hospital was definitely a priority (incidentally, Victoria confirmed his keys were on his nightstand safe & sound) and we continued on our way.
We arrived at the hospital entrance at 11:15pm, just 45 minutes after I had determined the fact that labor had begun, and as soon as I exited the car, I saw Sally standing there (thank God!) and then immediately dropped down to the pavement on hands and knees for a contraction that literally floored me. Was I actually feeling the urge to push? In that contraction, I could hear my own moans starting to shift from low groans to long grunts.
Chris entered the building to get me checked in while the hospital staff offered me a wheel chair. Initially, I refused and said I wanted to walk. I figured things were going well and I didn’t want to stall now that I was at the hospital, so walking would probably do me good! They told me they didn’t want me to have a baby outside on the sidewalk. I finished up a contraction, laughed and said, “Oh that’s definitely not going to happen,” and then another contraction immediately began. At this point, I agreed to the wheel chair.
My ID bracelet says I was admitted to hospital at 11:20am. In the ten minutes from arrival to triage, Sally and Chris started working their magic, providing back massages and hip squeezes wherever I found myself in a contraction (at the front desk and a few times during the walk down the hall).
At 11:30pm in triage, I clocked in at 7cm dilated, 80% effaced. They couldn’t determine station, likely due to me being checked on hands and knees.
At this point, I simply could not open my eyes anymore. It was one contraction after another with perhaps a 10 second break in between, each more intense than the last. They wheeled me into a delivery room and after only a few minutes, I couldn’t catch my breath. I had eaten a banana just before leaving the house, thinking I could be in labor for a while and needed nourishment for the long marathon ahead, and now as a result I was experiencing such intense heartburn during contractions that I was having trouble breathing and finally started vomiting.
Not only that, I also distinctly remember announcing, “Well, I just want everyone to know I’m about to shit on the floor in front of 15 people.” Which I then proceeded to do.
I vaguely remember one problem medical provider who seemed to want to run things her way in the delivery room. As soon as I entered, just moments after being checked in triage, she wanted to check me again, which I refused. I remember hearing Chris speaking up for me about not wanting a hep lock or post-birth shot of pitocin. He was so on and the perfect advocate for our desires. He thanked the staff repeatedly and was so positive and kind.
After only 15 minutes in the delivery room, I was fully dilated and fully effaced. Her heart rate was low, and the same problem medical provider threatened the use of a vacuum to get her out if I couldn’t push her out soon. I changed positions onto my back which seemed to solve the heart rate problem and after only 10 minutes of excruciatingly intense pushing (I burst blood vessels in my neck!), Grace Theresa Morris was born at 12:03am on 11/11 (Ridge was born on 5/5!), weighing in at 7 lbs 2 oz, 20 inches long.
When she came out and up onto my chest, I started weeping. But they weren’t tears of joy. They were tears of terror! I couldn’t believe what had just happened and I finally had a moment to catch my breath. With Ridge on my chest, I remember feeling absolutely euphoric, high and accomplished, like I could take on anything in the world and no one could stop me. This time, I was shaking like crazy, in shock, disoriented, my rectum felt like it was now external from my body and I was left with the overwhelming feeling that this wasn’t something I had done, it was something that was done to me. It wasn’t particularly empowering. And it was humbling.
I finally had a chance to look around the room and really see the faces of the people that were present. I didn’t even know that the on call doctor, Taverna-Miller, who delivered Ridge, wasn’t there! A resident whose name I never learned delivered Grace and Taverna-Miller didn’t show up until the resident started stitching my tear.
On a more positive note, Grace breastfed immediately, like a total champion!
Now that I’ve had time to process my precipitous birth, I think I kind of always knew it would be fast. My little girl had been giving me signals from the very beginning that she would have things her way. As soon as I could feel her move in my belly around 16 weeks, she pushed, kicked, punched and flipped unlike anything I had ever experienced with my first. My body did not respond well to this pregnancy in general. It’s like she moved in and took over. Toward the end of my pregnancy, I even found myself googling “fastest labor in history” and listening to birth stories focused on rapid labors. My curious intuition knew that my little Scorpio was going to make a bold, fierce entrance.
I believe my rational mind was in a bit of denial about how fast this labor was going simply because my first took about 9 hours door-to-door. The first time around, my water broke first thing and contractions didn’t pick up for about an hour. It took me about 5 hours to fully dilate and 3 hours to push. It was fast-ish for a first time labor, and I figured it was reasonable to say I could cut that time in half (like maybe a 5 hour labor next time?) but never in my wildest imagination did I think a 2 hour labor was in my future.
Bringing Gracie into the world was definitely the most intense thing I’ve ever gone through physically and maybe mentally too. Everyone says a quick birth is ideal and in some ways it is, but it can definitely wreck your body more than a longer birth. That said, I’m still recovering very well. My tear was the same degree and same place as it was with my first so I know what to expect there. And my uterus is shrinking faster than it did the first time around which is good in the grand scheme of things, just more painful. However, when I reflect on the events of the evening, I don’t always have a super positive feeling about it. If I were a first time mom, I wonder if I would be struggling more with the way things went since it is not typical or expected in any way. I can see why they say precipitous births can be traumatic.
I requested early discharge from the hospital since she was born three minutes after midnight (just like my ideal fantasy— everything happened pretty close to what I had asked for. Just 2 hours shorter and exactly 24 hours earlier!) so I was back home just 36 hours after giving birth, settling into our new life as a family of four on what would have been my mom’s 64th birthday.
I am totally OK with these two powerful women in my life having their own, separate, though consecutive, birth dates. I’m sure neither of them would have it any other way. I am also intrigued by Grace’s numbers: 11/11/2018. Adding up 2 + 0 + 1 + 8 also equals 11. The time “11:11” has always had special significance to me, and I have heard that 11-11-11 signifies a time of strength, unity and peace. Perhaps Grace is here to move this planet along in a better direction.
I am excited to see who she will be. I feel honored that she chose me to be her mother. I am grateful for the experience.
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