by Casey Bradburn

When I found out I was pregnant I was excited but also a little shocked and scared. We had barely even been trying for a few weeks. And we weren’t even really trying; we were just finally to the point where we figured if it happened it would be great and we wouldn’t try to inhibit it anymore. My immediate family members have had numerous issues with pregnancies so I thought it would take quite a while to get pregnant. I guess I thought wrong. My husband, Cole, and I now joke that we are probably so fertile that all Cole has to do is wink at me from across the room and I’ll likely get pregnant again.

 

With the good news I called my parents, brother, and sister. They all live 15 hours away so telling them in person wasn’t really an option. I was nervous to tell my sister, who is ten years my senior, and had been having trouble getting pregnant. After a long pause she finally told me that she had just found out that she, too, was pregnant and due the day after I was. Our mother had been begging for grandbabies for well over a decade and my sister and I talked about how crazy it would be for our kids to possibly be born in the same week. My sister didn’t want to tell anyone else about her pregnancy yet and get their hopes up too soon. I also thought this would be best because our mother’s name is Joy and she certainly lives up to it with her excessively jovial tendencies. The sheer thought of how chipper she would be to hear that she had her first two grandchildren on the way at the same time sort of gave me a headache.

 

Now that the immediate family had been informed the next step was to figure out how and where we wanted to give birth. The biggest decision was to figure out whether I wanted to go with a hospital birth, home birth, or birthing center. I did a lot of self searching as to what I wanted the birth to be like. Cole and I try to avoid all medicines and interventions when possible so we knew we would like the birth of our child to be natural. Also, the last thing I wanted to do was to be lying on my back in a hospital with my feet in those horrendous stirrups and with a ton of devices hooked up all over my body. No thanks. After doing our due diligence researching the safety and philosophy of going with a traditional hospital birth versus using a midwife, we decided that a midwife would be a better fit for us.  The birth center had great reviews and I liked the thought that they were close to and had privileges at the nearby UNC hospital in case any major complications did arise.

 

We took a tour of the birth center when I was around seven weeks pregnant. On the way back to work I nearly freaked out by myself in the car thinking that this was real. And it was probably going to hurt pretty badly. That was not a fun realization to have sneak up on me when I wasn’t expecting it to get so real so quickly. Then I decided that I just wasn’t going to be pregnant anymore. I would somehow wish it away and we’d try again later when I was more prepared. My mind went back and forth and I finally somehow calmed myself down by telling myself that a.) pregnant ladies sometimes go straight crazy and often can’t think sensibly and b.) some of my ridiculous friends have competently given birth so it really was something I could manage (sometimes I’m a jerk). But seriously, if 20 bazillion ladies had given birth in the past then I certainly could too. I am strong-willed and stubborn and I was suddenly determined to absolutely dominate this birth.  Actually, this determination didn’t come until much later on, but thankfully it did or else my birth story would likely be very different.

 


Cole and I spent the next months enjoying our last days as non-parents. Our friend Wes basically moved in with us to design and paint our son’s very detailed Zelda nursery (which is awesome, went viral, and became very popular in the video gaming community). When we weren’t working or spending time at home with Wes we were staying busy. We were taking a 12 week Bradley Method birthing class, reading a lot of pregnancy books, buying all the baby essentials, trying to agree on what kind of parents we wanted to be, and making promises to each other that our relationship would remain a top priority. And, of course, we were spending an increasing amount of time at the birth center as the months went on. I enjoyed the appointments with the different midwives and always looked forward the most to hearing my little man’s heartbeat—fast and strong. We seemed to have the most appointments with three midwives: Emily, Maureen, and Kate. After having a couple of appointments in a row with Kate, Cole had a feeling early on that she would be the one on call when I went into labor. I dismissed his feeling, figuring that there was a one in six chance for any of the midwives and that our son would ultimately choose.  It all just depended upon which day he decided to grace us with his arrival. 

 

Around 38 weeks I finally went through the nesting phase which Cole was pretty sure would never happen because in the 11 or 12 years we’ve been together he has never seen me become Suzy Homemaker. I also wanted to go through all my pregnancy books again and mentally prepare for what seemed like it was going to be a marathon when I sometimes didn’t even feel ready for a 5k. At the 39 week appointment, on June 29, I told Emily that I was pretty sure my son was going to come soon. Cole and I left the birth center and I texted my sister to see how her 39 week appointment went, which was also that morning. She immediately called me and said that her water just broke at her appointment and she was waiting for contractions to start and was heading to the hospital.

 

 I was concerned about her and my future niece, so I woke up at 5am the next day, Saturday June 30, and started a text conversation with my sister-in-law since she was at the hospital, too. I tried to wake up Cole, who had promised to make breakfast, but he was exhausted and said he would make it in a couple of hours. We both easily went back to sleep.

 

Then just before 9am I got up and my water immediately broke with a gush. Holy ish! My sister and I were going to possibly have our babies on the same day. I started walking around the neighborhood until there was too much liquid and it was dripping down my leg (labor is super sexy like that sometimes). Cole called the birth center and Kate was indeed on call that day, just as he suspected. My contractions hadn’t started quite yet but Kate said they generally do soon after the water breaks. We had planned that as soon as the contractions started being consistently between 2-3 minutes apart we should head over. Considering the fact that my mom and sister both had very long first labors, I figured that I’d be the same way and it would probably be much later that night before it was time to go to the birth center.
       
Contractions started sometime around 10:30a.m. Cole and I were excited and spent a lot of time trying to compile a music playlist for the labor. I soon decided I’d had enough with the playlist since my contractions were getting stronger and closer together. Then my body decided it needed to suddenly rid itself of everything I had eaten that day. Uh-oh, I remembered hearing something in our birthing class about that meaning labor was progressing. I had always heard how long labors usually lasted with a first child so I was surprised at how fast everything was moving along.  One good thing that I had going for myself was that I was getting adjusted by a chiropractor, which generally makes labor go more quickly, but this still seemed to be moving almost too quickly.

 

By 3:30pm my contractions were very strong and more painful. They had been around 3 minutes apart for close to an hour and had just started getting closer together. That week broke heat records and each day was between 102 and 108 degrees. That was certainly fun while nine months pregnant. Of course, as luck would have it, my company car for that time was a black car with black leather. Cole loaded the car and started the engine so it could cool off.  We figured we’d call the birth center and head in. We called and talked to Kate again and she advised getting in the bathtub for a while to see if that slowed everything down. I was just ready to have my child but I got in the tub to see what happened. In the bathtub the contractions were still painful but they felt a little more manageable. I’ve always had the ability to fall asleep in really awkward places so in the few moments between the contractions I was so calm and at peace with everything that I was falling asleep in my bathtub. Then I realized that I had no idea where my husband was.  I remember screaming at him to come time my contractions for me. He came in and sat on the toilet beside me and I would hit his leg to inform him when to start and stop the timer (you remember the part about labor being super sexy, right?). The first few contractions slowed down but then they quickly sped back up. The last one was under two minutes and we thought it was time to call back and get ourselves to the birth center. I called Kate back and after she asked a few questions she told us to head in.

 

 Cole repacked and restarted the car then realized that our dog probably needed to eat and go out right then or else we’d have to ask one or two friends who had keys to our house if they were available and could take him out later. I remember half-yelling at Cole, “You can take him out but I’m not kidding when I say that you need to hurry your @$$ up about it.”

 

Finally, everything was taken care of and we were on the way for the 50 minute drive to the birth center. New parents are never the smartest and for some reason we had put the car seat in the base behind me which made the front seat completely vertical. I couldn’t imagine being any more uncomfortable. In the car was the first time I really had the thought that maybe I didn’t want to go through this naturally and drug-free. I somehow had the peace of mind to realize that I must be close to second stage labor if that was how I was feeling and I intrinsically knew I could accomplish this feat.




We arrived at the birth center just before 6pm where Kate and Lydia were waiting for us. Kate checked me and I was already at 9cm dilated. No wonder I was miserable on the car ride; I was going through transition during the drive. I definitely don’t recommend that! Soon my body was starting to push on its own which was quite a strange feeling. Kate asked how I felt in the bathtub at home and I said that I was relaxed and kept falling asleep. We figured maybe I’d be most comfortable in the bathtub so I tried to move to it. I remember being past the point of caring about anything other than having my baby. I had a sports bra and a really cute bikini top in my bag, but didn’t even think about grabbing them. I just stripped down and got in the tub. Jeez, what a sight to see.  I was a completely naked and fat pregnant lady with a few light tan lines and a lot of large, reddish-purple stretch marks. Let me just tell you that I have the utmost respect for anyone who can deal with that mess all day.

 

Once I was in the bathtub, just like that, it was time to start pushing. To me, pushing didn’t hurt nearly as badly; it was more of a relief and gave a purpose to the contractions and something to focus on. I pushed for less than an hour and only the last few pushes, when the baby’s head was crowning, were really painful for me. But then guess what happened at 7:21pm– my son, Cillian Luke Bradburn, was born and that pain was gone. It was replaced with my son in my arms and an exciting new world ahead of me. I got to hold my amazing baby boy and watch my proud husband shed a few tears of amazement.  Within an hour after Cillian was born I was back to my normal jokester self.  Within a few weeks I wondered what I ever did before the little man was a part of my life.


 

I certainly don’t feel like I could have gone through the labor and delivery as easily without the support and encouragement from Cole and Kate. I’m telling you, though, once you’ve accomplished that—once you’ve been coherently aware of and physically in charge of your birthing process—the whole world is suddenly within your grasp and you’re empowered enough to realize that absolutely anything is possible.

 

          To sum it up with a quote, “Labor is hard work. It hurts. And you can do it.”