It came as news to some when we announced her arrival on Sunday morning, but we'd been eagerly awaiting the day since learning of her existence on June 5th last year. There were even family members who had a hard time believing that we were expecting another member of our household sometime around Valentine's Day. You see, we'd thought we might be "one and done", as they say, after Olive because, honestly, we had it pretty darn good with her. She was a delightfully easy baby and has continued to be very mellow and virtually void of challenges. I'd been able to convince myself that she was all I wanted but a little over a year ago I started experiencing a nagging of wanting one -
just one - more. As I watched Olive grow and develop, seeing the type of person she was becoming, how much she had to give, I saw that she needed a sibling; we needed another child. I just had to make Rob believe this as strongly as I did. A few weeks after approaching him with my life-changing request, the giving husband that he is, he agreed.
Last Thursday, February 7th, at my 39th week mark, I began experiencing contractions before going to bed. Since I could differentiate between those and the Braxton-Hicks I decided it was time to set up the pool. Rob inflated it and later, after he'd gone to bed, I stayed up to fill it. After making twenty trips (I was keeping a tally on the dry-erase board) to fill it with the stock pot because the adaptor for the hose wouldn't fit our faucet, I called it a night at 3:30. I woke at 7:30 with much stronger contractions so I got up to move around, hoping to alleviate them. There came a knock at the door which turned out to be our friend, Alex, arriving to assist. She fed Olive breakfast while I did morning things, then she, Olive, and I went out for a short walk. As we neared the house Warren, another friend, showed up. Rob ran out to Home Depot for another adaptor for the hose and then we commenced filling the tub (we should have learned from our last experience that filling the tub is a task best left till the last minute). Later in the morning Ellen, our newly-hired midwife, arrived and gave me some herbal remedies to expedite labor and calm my contractions. After several hours of increasingly strong contractions Ellen examined me to find that I had not dilated at all, so she went home, as did Alex and Warren. I didn't sleep at all that night and wound up calling Ellen again around midnight. I didn't want to bring her over again unnecessarily but this time it seemed that things were really transitioning into more active labor. at 3:30 am she arrived and the hours that followed were a blur. Another group of friends who planned on being present during the labor, Shauna, Maria, and Mark, were at a sustainable agriculture conference in State College, several hours away, but left on Saturday morning to get to our house. They showed up around lunchtime being coconuts (I'd expressed a desire for fresh coconut water months back), and their being there was immensely soothing. What was less than calming was Olive, so I called Kellie to see if they'd mind keeping her for a few hours. She agreed and Rob went at met her so they could go on a family outing. After talking to Kellie, who offered the suggestion her midwife had given her: to pump for 30 minutes and walk for 30 minutes and alternate, Shauna, Maria, Rob, and I set off on another of many walks around the neighborhood. It was true that this method intensified contractions, thus facilitating labor. Food was ordered from Smiling Banana Leaf, our neighborhood Thai restaurant, but my appetite was shot; I only ate a bite of broccoli from my green curry. At 6 pm Ellen checked me and I was still only 2 cm dilated but because of the thinness of my cervix she was able to stretch me to 4. Soon after I was at 6 and it was time to get into the pool. It felt heavenly and I was pleased to have made it that far (during Olive's labor I was never able to set foot in the pool we'd prepared). The warmth and weightlessness of the water was just what I needed and it allowed me to more easily breathe through my stronger contractions. Fortunately, though more painful than with Olive's birth, none of these lasted more than 90 seconds. I had a few with Olive that lasted well over ten minutes at their peak - one lasted a full twenty minutes - so this was far more manageable. Olive was brought back to us just past her bedtime, making it easy for Rob to put her straight to bed and allow me to continue to labor without worrying about her well-being. The tub was beginning to wear on me after a while. I was watching the hours tick past and soon it was ten o'clock. I'd been in the pool for nearly four hours and, despite taking breaks to pump, contractions were slowing which wasn't altogether encouraging. What I needed most was rest since it was Saturday night and I'd only had about four hours of sleep since Thursday. I climbed, water-logged, from the tub and stumbled into bed beside Rob and Olive (she'd been put to sleep in our bed so a friend could use hers if necessary). After I retired Shauna, Maria, and Mark left and Ellen curled up on our couch, but not five minutes after I went to bed the contractions ramped up again, coming in shorter intervals. I tried my best to breathe through them and not carry on like I wanted to, so as not to wake Olive, but I couldn't bear them any longer so went to her empty bed and wailed like a beaten cat. It was at that point that I sensed another trip to the hospital was in our future. I woke Ellen who offered to break my water since that would likely put things on the fast track to delivery. I was still at 6 cm and I got back in the tub to welcome Marlowe, or so I imagined. The pain was dizzying and each time a wave came over me I had to fight the overwhelming urge to bite. Rob knelt by the side of the tub holding my hand and at one point I nearly took his hand in my teeth, then considered biting the inflatable tub and wound up biting my own hand instead (something I hadn't done since I was probably five; my mom would know better than I would). Breathing calmly through the pain made no noticeable difference to me and only required more determination and effort. I told Ellen I wanted to go to the hospital. "You'll regret it," she told me, but I knew that I wouldn't. My grand plan of having a home birth, already thwarted once, was becoming less and less important to me. All I wanted at that moment was to have her out of me. Once Ellen said that she wasn't going to keep me from going, I got out of the pool and went to my room to gather some things to bring with me to the hospital (I grabbed three pairs of underwear and an extra shirt, all unnecessary items for the trip I was about to take). Rob called Alex who, at 1:30 am, had just retired so was still lucid enough to make a quick getaway to come stay with Olive. Ellen drove me over to Magee Women's Hospital in Oakland, a 15-minute drive, while Rob waited for Alex and Keith to arrive. As soon as we got there I was checked in and wheeled into a room. Never before had I been so devoid of my senses. I was on the floor when the man with the wheelchair came to get me in the lobby. I was screaming at the nurses to get me medicine to quell the pain. Whatever they finally gave me made me woozy and sleepy but didn't seem to dampen the sensations, and I begged for something stronger. The epidural was the next step and, without giving it a second thought (something that Rob and I seriously discussed together the last time), I agreed. Taking that shot is something I do really well, if I do say so; I sat calmly, still as a statue, ready to receive the promised relief and, minutes later, there it was. Shortly afterward the doctor came in to talk to me about the likelihood of me having another c-section. Admittedly, the thought of this was appealing. Cesarians, while far from ideal, don't send me screaming, either. Having had one before I can talk about them from either side, but I truly did appreciate being able to relax with Rob by my side while our daughter was being plucked from my womb. This particular doctor's approach, however, was what was so off-putting to us. When I told him that I'd prefer to wait a little longer before electing to have the procedure done, he was incredulous that I'd rather wait until the moment my baby was in danger before deciding to have surgery. He went on to chide me for not doing my research on that particular hospital's policies, then used scare tactics like a possible hysterectomy to further sway us to his way of thinking. Rob chimed in and called him on his bullying. The man wasn't hearing a bit of what I had to say and was shooting down all of my logic. We told him that we wanted to talk about it alone before reaching a decision so he left us. We agreed that he was being unreasonable, but also sensed that he knew my situation better than I did and really, who were we to gamble with the outcome of this pregnancy. Even Ellen agreed that it was probably the safest call. I was still maintaining the same 6 cm dilation and it didn't seem as though things were going to change with that, so we gave the go-ahead. Within fifteen minutes the doctor had gathered his team of surgeons, Rob was given his suit and cap to wear, and I was wheeled into the OR. I felt not a thing but the ache in my neck, shoulders, and upper back, soreness from hauling pots of water to the pool a few nights before. Then the surgeons announced the gender, which we already knew, but there was always the slight chance that we were wrong. She was out. Marlowe Magnolia Nell, born at 6:52 am on February 10th, weighing a slight 7 pounds and 2 ounces and measuring a long 21.5 inches (Olive was 7 lb 14 oz and 21 inches long by comparison). Though we requested that he be the one to cut the cord, Rob wasn't asked to come complete the task. The sewing up part took far longer than it had before - over an hour was spent piecing me back together and sticking me up. Rob held onto our tiny child while I dozed there on the table, then we were taken to our room. Alex and Keith showed up shortly afterward and then we were relocated to our permanent room. We enjoyed more visits from other friends, but most notable was Dylan, a friend who'd moved to DC to attend grad school over the summer. He'd heard the day before that I was in labor so took a MegaBus to Pittsburgh the very next morning and was able to meet Marlowe on her birthday. So special.
I spent two nights at Magee Women's Hospital with Marlowe. Rob and Olive came to stay during the day but left each night at Olive's bedtime. I really appreciated the hands-off approach they used there, allowing Marlowe to sleep in the room with me (the hospital in Machias, Maine, where Olive was born, insisted that either Rob or I be awake all night in order for her to stay in our room with us). All checkups and tests were conducted in the room right beside me. When the pediatrician came in to check on Marlowe she was concerned that she'd had only one wet diaper and strongly urged me to give her a bottle of formula. Understanding that our plan was to avoid formula, our nurse discouraged it and said that Marlowe was fine; she'd produce a wet diaper soon enough, and she was right. Though the doctor who did the c-section was pushy, I didn't find that to be the case with the rest of the staff there and left feeling pleased with my care there.
It's been nearly two weeks now since Marlowe was born. I'm still healing from the surgery and will continue to do so for the next few weeks, I imagine. It's a slow process this way, but I don't regret the way things turned out. Perhaps I jinxed myself by being so overly confident in my ability to have a home birth. It really doesn't matter, though, in the end. She's healthy, gaining weight at a steady rate, and I'm on the mend, so the route taken to get to where we are is inconsequential. Olive is assuming her role with grace and a surprising lack of outright jealously. It's clear that she's pretty enamored with the little big-eared thing we brought home and takes every chance she's given to cradle and hug her. That's what I wanted most of all - for Olive to weather the transition from being an only child to older sibling with as few bumps as possible, and so far she's amazed us. So far, so very, very good.
