Born at Methodist Hospital with the Midwives in St. Louis Park, MN | Brooke Shares the Birth Story of Her Second Baby
Welcome to the world little one!
It feels like such a privilege to be able to sit down and write my birth story just a few days postpartum this time around. With my first, I was stuck in a time warp of anxiety and depression for months, only to then finally be able to reflect back on my daughter’s birth story on her first birthday. Every birth, every kiddo, every postpartum experience serves such a unique perspective and I cherish both of mine so dearly for the lessons they continue to teach me every day. And because of the fact that each experience can vary so much, I want to make clear that nothing in my birth story should be taken as medical advice for any other individual’s situation. It’s simply how I perceived things to happen for me and my family at this time of our lives.
I’m also going to include photos and film from our pregnancy, birth, and first moments home together as a family of four. I value these so much and I feel like they really help tell this beautiful story.
I’ll begin Finn’s story with his pregnancy. It was generally uneventful. I really prioritized self care and body work, focusing on his positioning with a combination of massage, chiropractic, physical therapy, Body Ready Method, Spinning Babies, Gilligan’s Guide, as well as my own intuition and knowing what we needed as he would twist and turn in my belly. As my pregnancy neared its end, I was mentally so done; my mind set on me going into labor before my guess date. I’ve been attending births for 10 years now. I know due dates are total guesswork - why I call it a guess date rather than due date. I know getting cervical exams prenatally tells someone very little about when they will go into labor. And yet, I still somehow got myself caught in the web of focusing on those numbers far too much and in utter disappointment when my 40 week prenatal appointment revealed that my cervix was still very posterior, firm, and baby’s head was high and not yet engaged. I left my appointment convinced I would be the one outlier of all humans and be pregnant forever. Oh, the drama a very ready, very pregnant cocktail of hormones can brew up in one’s mind.
After a good cry and a nap, I reframed this information and applied toward all the knowledge I’ve gained over the years around positioning. I spent the next day doing what I could to help baby’s head engage, and by 10pm I noticed the slightest change in my nightly contractions. These few were different than my usual Braxton Hicks. I was cramping mildly and sweating, and they seemed to come and go in waves, though a good 20 or so minutes apart. I never experienced early labor with my first, as it was a fast and furious induction, so I had no clue if I was just getting my hopes up yet again or if this could be the real deal.
I woke up at 4am or so with much more intense cramping and a memory of lots of dreams surrounding birth, so I thought I must have continued contracting through the night. When I got up to go to the bathroom, I noticed bloody show and I was so relieved, I could have yelled from the rooftops in joy. This was the real deal, indeed. But instead of jumping into action and assembling all the moving pieces to get ready for the rest of what might lay ahead, I went back to bed and rested as much as I could in between contractions. I snuggled my toddler back to sleep and soaked in the fact this could be our last time doing so with her as my only. As the sun started to beam in on a very frigid February morning, we all woke up - our last morning as a family of three. My husband made us a big Sunday-style breakfast, and I crammed in as much protein as I could. We had a family dance party and it was truly just the early labor of my dreams. I was beside myself with gratitude that my body was doing its thing, gently and easily and with no need for induction this time.
Contractions were about 5-6 minutes apart after breakfast, but still fairly mild, just requiring a bit of focused breathing. I let my in-laws and birth team know early labor was officially underway and hopped in the shower. They began to draw closer together, averaging about 3 minutes apart, requiring some vocalization to cope, yet lasting only 30-45 seconds each. I laid down and they spaced out a bit and boy did I enjoy the break. I decided I wasn’t getting up for a good long while and soaked in this rest, even if each contraction started growing with intensity.
Around 10:45am, my doulas had read the signs and actually told me they would be arriving at the hospital. I was still reluctant to get out of bed. Whenever I stood up, the contractions would instantly go back to that 2-3 minute apart pattern and it was daunting. But I took their cue and we were on our way, living just a few minutes from the hospital. I couldn’t be more thankful that they knew what my body was doing, as I started pushing the second we got into triage. I couldn’t stop if I tried, the urge so overwhelming, and yet my mind was still doubting that I could be this far this quickly. We were just dancing in the kitchen a couple hours prior. But my doulas assured me to trust my body and it was so encouraging to just let it all unfold. I was in triage for about two minutes, as the pushing caused my water to rupture with the drama of every silly movie you’ve ever seen birth portrayed in. The midwife instantly made the call to wheel me to a labor and delivery room and had a birth tub started filling with water. I hobbled into the tub the best I could, and once I was in, the midwife exclaimed they could see my baby’s head! All of this happening in my body, and my mind was still in disbelief. Our baby was born with a couple more pushes, just 30 minutes after walking through the front doors of the hospital. What. A. Wild. Ride. But the absolute birth of my dreams as I birthed him in the water, surrounded by the best support team, and brought him up to my chest with the greatest sensation of pure love. I had that oxytocin overload in the best way possible.
In the days since his birth, he’s continued to nurse successfully - something I simply never experienced with my first. His sister is over the moon to have him home and fills our house with so much joy and love alongside all the newborn weariness and weepies. We have a freezer full of food to last us the next month and a postpartum doula lined up to help us transition toward life with two children at home full time. I just could not be more grateful for our experience and the support we’ve lined up for ourselves.
