She's here!

Olive Christianne Starks
January 18, 2012
1:22 in the morning
7 bs, 9 oz
20" long

Olive's Birth Story

(As I wrote about before, I tested positive for Group B Strep while pregnant with Olive so we made a last minute switch from our planned home-birth with our naturopathic doctor/midwife to a nurse midwife who would deliver in a birth center so that I could receive IV antibiotics (a standard for GBS positive moms but something my ND wasn't comfortable administering at home). Connie Garcia and her staff at Babymoon Inn took me in as family and turned a nightmare into a real dream come true.)

The story of Olive Christianne's birth begins with her papa and me learning just exactly what her name means: "peaceful bearer of Christ." And she has not only shown to behave true to that name (she is a very peaceful baby), but also that she would be entering the world in that same fashion. But of course, I can say that now in retrospect.

For those that don't know, homebirths and birth center births are only recomended for low risk women. One of the criteria for low risk is that you deliver before 42 weeks. As I was 41 weeks and three days pregnant, however, I knew my days were numbered. As the days of my pregnancy kept climbing, I began to feel anxious not only about that, but also about the size of this late baby. India (our first) was 9 lbs. I wondered if little Olive would soon be approaching 10 plus! Either way, I could see my new dream ending in my less than ideal plans and had no idea what to do. Except pray...

My husband came home on Monday (January 16) and we spent the evening deep in prayer and sharing our thoughts and (my) fears about this baby and birth. The Lord began preparing us for little Olive right then and there--our little peaceful bringing in of the Lord. I woke up the next morning with contractions. Feeling those contractions was so freeing! It meant I could still deliver my Olive as I wanted: naturally and in the birth center with Connie. But when those contractions came to a sudden stop about three hours later, I was devastated. I began to feel slightly angry with the little one in my tummy. I knew the clock was ticking and there is something inside every mom who knows she sometimes has to fight for what she knows is best for her baby. I knew that a Babymoon birth was just that for us. And while I was open to whatever the Lord had for us, I knew He had directly led us here for a reason.

That afternoon we had an appointment with Connie and I knew that we would be going there to discuss how to get things moving (castor oil and other less than ideal methods). I very much wanted this baby to come on her own (as I had with Dia) but I knew that if I waited too long, it might be too late. Oh the anxiety and pressure! As I showered and dressed, though, the contractions started again. I knew Olive was telling me she was coming...I just didn't know when and how to explain that to the midwives. I also didn't want to get my hopes up in case these contractions stopped again. When my contractions started with my first baby, India, they had begun in the evening and ended in the morning with her birth. I was not prepared for this starting and stopping. I was aware, however, that this child is her own person and that each birth is different.

And even though I had to stop talking for each contraction in the car ride to Connie's office, I still couldn't let myself believe that I was in labor. If the contractions were to stop again like they had that morning, I worried that the stress, anxiety and disappointment would simply be too much to handle. So when we walked into the office for the checkup and I could hardly talk and was in obvious discomfort, I vehemently denied that I was in labor but rather was just "in pain." And yes, they all looked at me as though I was crazy woman I am. Upon checking me, I was 2 centimeters dilated but that hadn't changed from my appointment three days earlier. This slow movement only confirmed in my mind that I should not get my hopes up. Rory and I planned to head home but I knew the midwives were thinking otherwise. They ever so brilliantly stalled me by suggesting that I at least get a round of antibiotics in before leaving, that way if the contractions continued, I would be covered--you know, "just in case."

As contractions kept coming about every ten minutes, it took a bit for me to waddle across the street from Connie's office to the actual center where they would administer the IV and where I would also soon be delivering. I had a hard time sitting comfortably, but before long I had received the full dose and planned on heading out to dinner. Connie kept telling me that I looked "an awful lot like a woman in labor," but I couldn't let myself believe such good news. I denied it and promised that once I ate, the contractions would dissipate. But it took nearly an hour for me to get up and make it outside to the car because of how painful the contractions were and just my general sense of discomfort. Connie said she wouldn't head home until I called after dinner, so once we finally made it outside, drove to a hamburger spot (it sounded SO GOOD!) and ate it in the car (yep, too uncomfortable to go inside to sit and eat but still I denied any sign of labor), I called Connie to tell her we were going home. We thought we still had plenty of time (if it even was the real thing). She suggested I at least get checked since I was still nearby, so we drove back. I had gone from 2 centimeters to 4 in that time and they knew I was indeed in labor. I, however, insisted that I could be 4 centimeters for days still and wanted to go home. They suggested I wait for the second round of antibiotics. (Connie is one brilliant woman, as I am sure you can tell. She never argued with me. Just outsmarted me.) By that time the contractions were still regular, painful and increasing. They knew (and said as much) that if I went home, I likely would be in too much pain to come back. And an unassisted home birth was not in anyone's plan, so I acquiesced and we began to settle in. I called my mom to tell her I was staying the night but that I wasn't sure I was in labor (Connie's midwife assistant looked at me incredulously--I ignored that.). That was at 8:30pm Tuesday, January 17th. When she checked me again I was at 5 and she said the rest would probably go fast, but I, of course, didn't believe her.

We puttered around the birth center (it's basically a house with all of the comforts of home and the amenities and accreditation of a birth center), watched tv, bounced on the birth ball and then Rory took Dia home to stay the night with his mom. I had to text him around 9:30 or so because it was really beginning to hurt my back. I needed him and his strong hands to help me through the contractions at this point. Connie prayed over me and I remember saying that I couldn't believe I was about to have two (babies). Joy and pain mingled there in that sacred space right before you are changed forever by the birth of your child. I also remember asking her if it was worth it to have a natural birth. It may have been two years, but I still knew exactly what was about to happen as I delivered my daughter. And I knew it was going to hurt.

Rory got there around 10 or so but by 11pm, I was tired and just wanted to rest. Connie had gone in to rest and I felt the tediousness of labor and just wanted to lie down. Connie's assistant, Kylie, felt I should keep things going but as you can probably guess, I didn't believe it would help. She offered to break my water, but I knew then that we'd be on a time clock (if Olive didn't come 18 hours after that I would be high risk again and forced to transfer to the hospital). She then suggested (and I apologize for the "graphic" nature of this) nipple stimulation. We opted, although less than enthusiastically, for the second suggestion. We gave it maybe ten minutes (with lots of joking and teasing). I certainly didn't think it would have any effect. And then it hit: hard labor. Contraction on top of contraction. I couldn't sit. I couldn't stand. I couldn't do anything but focus on the tremendous waves that were overtaking me.

I had warned the midwives that I while I have no respect or place for profanity in my life, I had colored India's birth with the ugliest of words. I screamed them at the top of my lungs, in fact. I had been vocal and out of control. I began pushing before I had the natural urge and I ended up with a good size tear. While it had been a great experience overall, I hoped those things would be different this time around. And as hard labor started, instead of screaming and crying, I went silent. I disappeared somewhere deep inside my head and as the praise music played in the background, I did my best to just endure. They asked if I was having a contraction but even as the contractions were nearly on top of one another, I couldn't reply. I walked into the shower and had Rory hold the sprayer on my back as I bent over the stool, gripped with pain. I had somehow lost my clothes in the process and after some time in the shower I walked back to the bedroom to crawl into the huge whirlpool tub. I moved all around in various positions all while having Rory hold the sprayer on my back. And all the while, totally silent. Until I decided I couldn't take it anymore and informed them (Connie had come in at this point), that I would be transferring to the hospital and that I would not be delivering at the Inn. This got everyone moving as they knew the baby would be here soon. Connie called the two assistants thinking we had about an hour or so until Olive would be here. But then I stood in the bath, squatted low and let out the "gutteral" scream (Rory does a great impression of this, by the way, just so you know). They asked if I had to push and as I squatted again, I screamed, "I think so!"

There are some brilliant opportunities in life where we get to see who it is exactly that we have married. Right then and there I knew I had married a very good man. As I began to push, Rory instinctively jumped into the bath (it was maybe two inches full) fully clothed and threw his arms under mine. I fell back into him completely and my feet found two spots to rest on in the tub (although I was out of the water). I began breathing fast and pushing without any rhyme or reason when he stopped me, reminded me to breathe slowly and talked me through the pushing. (The midwives later said that they wished they could have recorded this part because it was just perfect!) He helped me get control of myself and the pushing, and unlike the first time, I found myself completely aware of what I was doing and what my body needed me to do. 12 minutes of pushing later, and Olive was in my arms! It was the most surreal moment. Having spent the last few hours denying my labor, I certainly wasn't prepared to be holding her that early Wednesday morning.

I find it hard to say just exactly how long I was in labor, mostly because I denied it for so long, I imagine. But I do know that Kylie's suggestion turned things around instantly and the hard labor wasn't more than three hours. I tore only slightly (mostly along where I had before, though not as deep or far) and never once uttered a word of profanity. It was soundtracked by praise music and ended with Olive in my arms as I lay in my husband's. I felt in control and fully supported. Although, it did take a while for reality to set in. I had my Olive! I had been in labor after all!

Rory and I have to thank the wonderful people at Babymoon Inn. Not only has every single person been kind and welcoming, but their expertise is what has inspired our confidence in them the most. If they hadn't insisted we stay that night or insisted we "get things going," I don't know what would have happened. I do know, though, that beginning and continuing this child's life with prayer is perhaps the best thing we've ever done. Thank You, Lord, for our miracle and the gentle ways she is already pointing us closer to You.