Tayan's Kane’s Birth

My birth team consisted of Bryan, my mom, and Bryan's mom, Shelia. We planned to do most of the early labor at home, my mom being a midwife and there to help, then head to the hospital to have the baby. I had been having contractions on and off for a couple of days, Mom had come down to be there with us, and finally the night before his due date, it started.

When we went to bed around midnight, I let Bryan know that the contractions were coming closer together. We started timing them for real, and they were 5 minutes apart. I went to sleep around 1, and thank God I was able to. I woke around 3 and was pretty much unable to sleep any longer because they were getting stronger.

I went out to tell Mom around 3:30 that I was having steady contractions. She said this is probably it, and to try to get some rest wherever I was most comfortable. I snoozed on the chair for a little while, then went back to bed to try to sleep.

At around 5 we decided to call Shelia and ask her to come over. At this point I kind of felt like "what do we do now?" I didn't know if this was the point where you're supposed to want to get in the shower… sit on the toilet… on the birth ball… walk around. It was a strange feeling. It ended up that what we did now was just sit around and wait, and get through the contractions however was the most comfortable.

It started to seem like some of the worst pain I was having was in my butt, like just serious pressure right in my butt. It made it uncomfortable to sit on the birth ball, to sit on a chair, or to stand straight up. That butt pain is the most intense pain that I remember from the whole birth. And I vocalized this pain to my labor supporters frequently.

I'm not sure what things happened when, but in the next few hours at some time, Shelia went to Hardee's and got breakfast for everybody. She got me a plain biscuit, but I couldn't eat it. I was drinking a lot of laborade, but I couldn't stand to eat. She also made me a grilled cheese sandwich sometime later, but I couldn't eat that either. I felt guilty that she was making things for me and I wasn't eating them. She also made me some toast that I didn't eat.

At some point, we decided to watch Finding Nemo, and it was a great decision. I was pretty much standing the whole time, because it hurt to do anything else, and I remember actually laughing out loud at the pure silliness of that movie. It is a very fond memory, watching that movie while little Tayan worked his way further down the birth canal.

At 10 o'clock Mom checked my progress. My cervix was 5-6 centimeters dilated, and still about 80% effaced. I was satisfied. Things were moving along. She told me we'd check again at 1 o'clock, and I tried to tell myself that I could wait another 3 hours, though it seemed like an eternity.

I got in the shower for awhile, and Bryan came in and played guitar for me. It was so lovely. I think I might have even cried a little bit, I was so happy to have such a loving husband and such soothing water. I remember things hurt much less in the shower, and I sang along to the music with Bryan, which seemed an outstanding feat considering how much pain I had been in.

I remember while I was pregnant one of the things I worried about was my apprehension about being nude in front of people. It's funny, but what people say is really true. You couldn't care less about it at the time. I was naked as a jaybird in front of so many people that day, and I didn't care one bit. Not only was I naked, but people were actually checking out my crotch on a regular basis, and this didn't seem at all odd or uncomfortable to me.

Things started to get pretty intense after that, and I started the whining that would continue until the sweet release when Tayan finally popped out. I continued to stand most of the time. Mom continued to intermittently check Tayan's heartbeat, sometimes having to lie on the floor to get in the right position, because I was limited to the positions I was willing to get into. The contractions were getting intense, and I started using Bryan to hang onto through them. He was great, and braced himself for my weight each time, enduring it like a pro.

At around 12 o'clock, I started to get antsy and told Mom that we needed to check my cervix now. She complied, and said that it was 6 centimeters, stretchable to 8. That was enough for me. I felt very strongly that we had to go to the hospital pronto, because we were in the small window where I could stand to ride in the car and do the whole check-in thing, and I feared that window would close soon.

Everyone agreed that it would be fine to go to the hospital now. For some reason, I had thought there might be some fuss about this, so I made sure to whine my request urgently, but everybody seemed fine with going along with what I felt I needed to do. Bryan and I got into the car with Shelia, and Mom followed us in her car.

It was a little stressful riding in the car. At the last light right by the hospital, we had to wait through the red, and it was agony waiting that one minute. In the meantime, Bryan was calling the midwife, Lesley, to tell her the situation. He told her that the contractions were coming pretty much one on top of another, and I was 6-8 centimeters dilated. She said something like "Bryan! You need to get here NOW!" not realizing that we were in the car.

Shelia dropped Bryan and I off at the ER entrance, and we went right through without stopping, heading for the elevator to the 3rd floor. I didn't want to risk being slowed down by ER personnel, and Shelia and Mom were going to check in for us when they came in.

Bryan and I arrived on the labor and delivery floor at around 12:30, walked casually down the hall, and greeted Lesley. I mean, I was casual in a 6 centimeters dilated kind of way. She pointed us to our nurse, Becky, who showed us to our room. They had everything set up for a very fast delivery, fearing that I might be pushing as I arrived.

I think the first thing they did was get me to lie down on the bed to get the electronic fetal monitor attached, and someone came in to take my blood. Becky told me I had to be monitored for 20 minutes, so I braced myself to lie there and wait that long. During that time, she got my blood pressure and stuff, and inserted a heparin lock into my hand. It was very painful dealing with contractions while lying down. I pretty much stayed on my side, gripped the side rail with all of my might, and tried to stay calm. Lesley checked my cervix and said it was about 6 centimeters, and asked if she could break my water. I said that sounded painful, and I'd rather wait a little longer.

After the monitoring was done, I got up to move around. The first thing I did was sit on the birth ball. I quickly got the feeling that I was going to throw up, and told them I needed a trash can. I felt somewhat better afterwards.

I soon had to get off the birth ball, because it was hurting my butt too much. I must mention that this whole process wasn't all as clear and concise as it now appears on paper. I was making everybody around me put up with a great deal of whining and complaining. Everybody was nicely suggesting different things that I could do, such as get in the shower or on the birth ball, or take a walk around, and I wanted none of it. I mostly wanted this awful pain to stop, and I knew that wasn't immediately an option. I was in this for the long haul, but I was none too happy about it.

I spent most of my time on my feet, because it was still the most comfortable way to be. I would wander around the room, whining a lot about things, and when a contraction would come I would whine at Bryan, and he would know it was time to let me hang off him through the contraction. I would try to make the pain less by getting on one foot, because the straight downward pressure hurt the most, and Mom kept telling me that if I wanted to progress, I would have to put both feet flat on the floor and allow my cervix to open up. Wouldn't you know it; the excruciating pain was actually what I needed to get the show on the road. I whined, but tried to do what she said whenever I could stand to.

I did eventually agree to get in the shower, after being reminded how nice it was last time. It was just as great this second time, only maybe more so because the pain was now more intense. Bryan stayed in the bathroom with me, and talked to me in the shower. It was really nice to have that time alone with him, and I was able to be more calm being one-on-one with just him. As I was getting out of the shower, I noticed that the tape on my heparin lock had come undone, and caused it to be pulled all the way out. It was bleeding, and I was annoyed to know that I'd need another one put in.

They ended up sending in three different nurses, one after another, to try to get another heparin lock in. Each nurse came in feeling all confident, suffered my warning that they probably wouldn't be able to do it, tried their best at sticking me several times, and left frustrated.

As the last nurse was giving it her all, I was starting to get very anxious about the whole situation, and my contractions were hurting quite a lot. While she was poking at me, my water broke with an unmistakable "pop" feeling, and they noted that there was meconium in it. Lesley ended up resolving that we would go through the birth with no heparin lock because no one could get one in. This was a big thing for her to do, and I was very grateful. It was a little dangerous, because if I bled a lot after the birth, it would be difficult to get an IV into me quickly for pitocin.

I started feeling like I was getting to the pushing point, and Lesley checked me again. I was around 8 centimeters, stretchable to 10. She said I could push a little through contractions to try to get to 10. This went on for awhile, my uterus making me push a little through each contraction, but not really hard. Things started to get very painful and a little fuzzy around then, and somebody told me that this was transition, and it wouldn't last forever. Even though all my reading had told me to expect someone to say this at some point, and it would mean we were nearly there, it didn't make me feel better.

All the while, I was getting more and more whiney. I would call Mom over to look at her face, and I would try to tell her that I really didn't want to do this any more, as if this were all some big game, and Mom could just call it all off for me. Usually all I could get out was "Mom, I don't wanna…" What I was really trying to do was to see her face, and I knew that if anything was terribly wrong and hurt much more than it should, I would see it in her face. She looked very calm though, so I figured I just had to put up with it.

Finally I remember they broke the bed down, turned on the lights, suited up, and told me I could get down to the real pushing for real. The contractions hurt a lot, and they made me involuntarily push, kindof like when your stomach makes you throw up. I knew that I was supposed to push with the contractions, and I did so, but I was very afraid of the pain that it caused. I never quite pushed as hard as I could, because of course as I pushed the pain got more and more intense. The contractions would come and go, me pushing through them, and everybody else cheering me on. Becky was very helpful, because she was a bit of a slave driver, always telling me I could get another breath and push again when I thought I couldn't push anymore. Mom, Shelia, and Bryan couldn't really push me that way.

Bryan was at my right shoulder and helped with forehead rags, even though I yelled at him a lot about it being either too hot or too cold. It seemed like he was very surprised by this whole thing, and content to look on and cheer when necessary. It was so nice to know he was right there with me.

I had handles on the side of the bed, and I was pulling those and pushing my legs with all my might during contractions. It made it very hard on the leg holders, and someone eventually thought to tell me that I should probably focus my energy on my uterus, rather than the useless contracting of leg and arm muscles. That was very good advice, and made me realize that I was focusing all wrong.

Between contractions, I found it very hard to relax without being reminded by people around me. I would be all breathing very fast and tensely, and they all would remind me to slow down and use the time to rest. That advice was great, and allowed me to get renewed energy during those short breaks between.

I remember looking at the clock and being frustrated that it had been nearly an hour, and for about a half an hour people had been telling me that I could possibly get the baby out on the next contraction. I felt so guilty that I wasn't able to do as they predicted as each contraction came and went, and I felt like I was letting everybody down. It just hurt way too much to push like they were asking me to. 

I came to a realization. “This is what it is all about,” I thought. “Here I am, in awful pain, and the only way to make the pain ever be over is to make the pain become much worse.” I had to give up every inkling of trying to avoid the pain, because it was right there, and it wasn't going anywhere until I pushed it right out. I still wasn't fully able to do it though until I heard the words "get the lidocaine" come from Lesley's mouth. I knew this meant that an episiotomy was imminent, and I wasn't about to be the lady who needed to be cut because she didn't have the balls to push her own son out. Finally I started pushing with not most of, but ALL of my might. I had to stop letting my brain think, because all it wanted to think about was fear. Only one thought was allowed, and that was "push."

The next thing I knew, I felt the sting of his head coming through. It hurt so much, and I was certain that I was splitting completely apart, and blood was probably gushing from everywhere. This pain was happening while I was pushing, and I just let go of it and kept on pushing. I figured this had to be it, and there was no way I was letting this kid slip back in and have to push like this again.

I pushed with reckless abandon, and finally the stinging stopped. His head was out! Lesley told me to stop pushing, and I stopped long enough to take a big breath and push again. I'll never forget the sweet release of those kushy little shoulders sliding out. Compared to that head, they felt heavenly, especially because I knew that was the last part.

It was quite a shock to see my son out of my body. I have to admit, I started crying with joy immediately, not for him, but because I was so friggin relieved that he was finally out. That relief was more intense than the gladness I had to see him, and it stayed that way for about a minute. Lesley cut his cord right away, which startled me a bit, because I knew that she would only do that if it were absolutely necessary. They had to clear out his mouth quickly because of the meconium.

They took him over to the table, and someone was standing in the way so I couldn't see him. Bryan was hugging me and we both had our eyes glued to that person's back, waiting to see more of our baby. He was crying, and I knew he was just fine. In the meantime, Lesley got my attention and looked me in the eyes and told me I was not allowed to bleed. She was worried about the lack of a heparin lock. I understood what she meant, and hoped that it would be okay.

She got to work on me down there, which was pretty painful. She said I would need one stitch, and that they wouldn't numb me for it.  She went to getting my placenta out, and I remember giving a small push to help out. I told her I wanted to see it, and she nodded but went back to her work down there. She was very intent to keep me from bleeding, and I was so grateful for her concern.

After just a few minutes of checking him out, they brought Tayan back to me. Mom unbuttoned my gown so he could be against my skin, and they gave him to me. Oh, what a relief. Here we were, cozier than I could ever imagine being with my crotch hanging out for the world to see. Bryan was inches from my face, and our sweet, perfect little boy was cuddling against my chest in all his blankets and cap. I just wanted to look at every inch of him. I had this strange sense that this baby was mine, and I could check him out however I saw fit. I first noticed that he looked just like Bryan.

Tayan was born on a Thursday, March 3rd 2005, on his due date. He was born at 5:53pm, weighed 8 lbs 2.6 ounces, and was 20.25 inches long.

It was an interesting transition into motherhood. At first it didn't seem like he was quite mine. I remember some time after he was born when the nursery nurse came in to check him, and he was crying on the table. I had the thought "oh, there's a baby crying over there," and the thought was distinctly not "that's my baby crying over there." I quickly realized my mistake, and the attachment continued its formation.

He's now lying against me in a sling, 7 weeks old, and the attachment is fully developed. He is every bit mine, and I can almost see all of my strings attached to him. Every once in awhile a tiny string gets cut, like the first time he slept in his crib for 10 minutes without me, and the first time he got a bottle of breast milk from Shelia. I know these cuts are perfectly natural, and they're relatively small right now, but each one hurts like a whole new hurt.

Tayan is the most wonderful thing that I could've ever imagined happening to me, and I feel utterly blessed that God has chosen Bryan and I to be entrusted with this most perfect of babies. The whole experience of having babies, from the first knowledge that he's growing in there to the sheer joy of feeding him with my milk, is surely one of God's greatest gifts to women.

--Laura Cooper

Click to see pictures of Tayan's birth