Ephraim's Birth Story

Ephraim Charles Affleck

February 5, 2017

8 lbs 1 oz

20 inches

Brief recap of the last  2.5 years since Henry's birth. I've gotten birth fever. Bad. Not that I was super eager to have another baby right away, but my first (accidentally unassisted) home birth impacted me a lot, and I realized that my life needed rearranging. One night as I was putting little Henry to sleep, I had the most distinct impression that I should become a doula. So distinct that I said it out loud, and thoroughly shocked myself. 

And then the rug was pulled out from under us and we moved across the country from North Carolina back to Utah (land of snow and unbreathable air and a culture I've never been able to fit myself into) and I did the whole thing kicking and screaming. I started looking for a reason to like this place and came across a local doula training that looked promising. I chatted with one of the refreshingly genuine trainers (hi Saph!) and signed up. At the doula training I found a room full of fantastically non-Utah-standard ladies who didn't look at me like I had three heads if I said I encapsulated my placenta. Thank you, God for finding me some people!

What I didn't know was that I was a teeny tiny bit pregnant the weekend of the training. Actually, I guessed because I couldn't stay out of the bathroom. The other thing I didn't know was that 3 other doulas in this fantastic little group were also a teeny tiny bit pregnant. One thing led to another, we all chose the same over-worked and so, so awesome midwife (hi Dee!), and had 4 perfect home births within a few weeks of each other. I couldn't be more grateful for such a for such great support. 

All of our boys had been born a few days before their due date, which was great. This time, everything kind of fell apart the week before baby was due. The boys got sick. James got sick and missed 3 days of work. Henry flushed a washcloth and magnet down one toilet, and a toy leopard down the other one. Our car broke down, and then broke down again (in a big way). The list goes on. I absolutely willed this baby to stay in, at least until we had a toilet and the family was healthy. He did! My due date came and went uneventfully. James and the boys got better. James took apart the toilet and got that leopard out with the help of a blowtorch. All was well, except the car which was undergoing major surgery at the mechanic's, so we just prayed not to have to transfer to a hospital and made due.

Saturday night, at 40 weeks 3 days, I went grocery shopping. James joked before I left that this ought to put me into labor by the next morning. 3 stores later, I was super uncomfortable. I actually pulled into the gas station, sat there a minute, and decided 1/4 tank was more than enough, and drove away. The last thing we talked about before going to sleep was how on earth we were going to get the 5 of us to church in the morning in James's tiny little commuter car. 

I woke up at 6:30 in the morning knowing that I wouldn't be going to church that day. Thanks baby, for solving the transportation problem. I was having mild contractions that felt real but not painful. We called my parents to come take the boys, and texted Dee and Sariah, our midwife and doula, to give them the heads up. My mom ran around packing everything that the kids could possibly need for a couple of hours. I mean, everything. Mattresses, comforters, high chairs, cups and bowls. She's so funny when she's excited and nervous. They left, and I tried to sleep. James watched me and tried to time contractions, but it was so annoying that I made him stop. Poor guy gets yelled at with every baby for trying to do his job.

James was nervous that this would be a repeat of Henry's birth, where the midwife arrives after the baby, so he made sure our birth team got here early. They arrived sometime in the early afternoon. I was feeling like I had to use the bathroom during every contraction, and I did actually go every time. It was weird, but pretty comfortable. 

Sariah and Dee were diligent about counterpressure and massage, when I didn't have myself shut in the bathroom. It helped a lot, but for some reason I had to be moving quite a bit or things slowed down. I took a shower and did laps around the family room, squatting or leaning on things during contractions. 

At a certain point I went into our bedroom and knew I wouldn't be coming out without a baby. Contractions got more intense, but not necessarily painful. (I attribute the difference to the herbs I took this time around.) I vocalized through them because it helped me focus and relax, but I never had that transition feeling of wanting to be out of my skin and feeling like I couldn't do it. My waters didn't burst, but trickled a little. I spent some time in the tiny bathroom squatting and holding onto the sink during contractions and standing and swaying between them. I started to feel a little pushy and decided to move into the bedroom where there was more space for James to catch the baby. I knelt on the floor, leaning my upper body on an inflatable birth stool. Sariah stayed at my head, keeping me supplied with drinks and a cold rag and reminding me to relax my face. I'm not too sure who did what behind me, but James and Dee were on the counterpressure game, and it was amazing. Mollee (Dee's assistant) took some incredible pictures of him being born (and wedged her knee against mine so I wouldn't fall over during each contraction). Best birth team ever!

I never had the uncontrollable urge to push, probably because my waters were still largely intact. I pushed anyway and it felt good, but controlled. I could feel baby's head getting low and thought he was crowning, but it was actually just the bulging bag of waters coming out. It would fill up between contractions and trickle out, then refill. I guess the sack did eventually break, but I didn't feel it. I had Dee check to make sure there wasn't a cervical lip. There wasn't, but baby's head was stuck behind my pubic bone. She had me assume the "Captain Moroni stance" with one foot flat to change the dynamic of my pelvis. It worked, and I felt downward motion within a couple of contractions. I was feeling pressure on my sacrum, so I put that knee back down and leaned forward. Baby's head came down slowly and I was grateful for a less freight-train-like pushing experience so I could take it slowly and stretch. There was a cord that needed to be pushed aside, and then the shoulders were born easily. James caught him, and dropped him, but whatever because he was about an inch from the floor. 

Baby had a little trouble getting started, but after a little rub and a few breaths with the bag he breathed and cried and pinked right up. I was kind of relieved to find that he was a boy! I can do boys, and I don't have to shop for clothes!

The placenta came almost immediately. It was right there when I turned over. I pushed it right out comfortably since nothing had time to shrink back down. James delivered it. (He also cleaned, dried and encapsulated it before 24 hours had passed. If that's not love, what is?) 

The ladies helped me shower while James did skin to skin with our son and got him adequately covered in chest hair. Dee checked me out. No tears! And I got to go to bed with my sweet baby. There's nothing better!