Our birth story started several weeks before the due date, at Erika’s 36-week prenatal appointment. When checking her cervix, the midwife noted that she was already 3.5-4 cm dilated. Since that was a significant amount of what early labor comprises, we assumed that it was pretty likely Sylvia would be born early. We were nervous and feeling a bit overwhelmed, but we focused on getting those last preparations done quickly, so everything was ready to go at a moment’s notice.
That ended up being a false signal, as the due date of July 4th came and went with no activity. By this point we were starting to get impatient — we had been ready for at least a week already, had suspended most of our normal activities, and were having a hard time planning normal weekly activities, such as how much food to buy. Having the due date on a holiday also encouraged lots of “Happy Independence Day, and oh, how’s the baby?” resulting in reminders that yes, we indeed did not have a baby yet. The weekend passed, and Sunday evening came and went with no more signals than the days before.
So when I woke up at 4:15am Monday morning to Erika telling me her water broke, I was surprised at first, but a bit excited. We now knew that likely within 24 hours, Sylvia would finally arrive. I fully woke to help out, recording the information she would need to relay to the midwife on-call, Shana. Contractions still had not started, so we were prepared to try to go back to sleep and rest to prepare for the coming labor. I also started texting with our doula, Tiffany, to let her know that things would be starting sometime soon.
That “sometime soon” ended up being sooner than expected, as within minutes of finishing my conversation with Tiffany, Erika had a strong contraction. I relayed this to Tiffany, and Erika and I both realized we should start getting ready for the day, since we weren’t going to be going back to sleep. It was now 4:45am.
I was starting to get anxious, as I could see the pain Erika was feeling with the contractions. This was expected, but still difficult for me to see without being able to intervene beyond basic comforting measures. I also started timing contractions, and we realized they were only a few minutes apart. Erika did not make it far in getting ready, due to the intensity and frequency of the contractions. I made myself presentable enough, while texting with Tiffany more symptoms that Erika was feeling, confirming things were OK. Erika decided she needed to make it down the stairs before they became too great of a challenge, and started to vocalize more for the contractions. I was frantically communicating with Tiffany, and also paging Shana again, as it was clear things were progressing pretty quickly. Tiffany helped me stay calm by assuring us everything sounded normal so far. By 5:15am Erika was ready to leave for the hospital “right now”, Shana was heading there to meet us, and Tiffany was quickly getting over to our house.
I was feeling a bit frantic, but I was able to focus on what I had to do. We had made a list on the fridge of what to do before going to the hospital, mostly involving making sure our cats would survive for a day without us, and getting everything into the car that we needed. I finished this tasks, and then we impatiently awaited Tiffany. At this point I was still feeling OK about things. We were prepared, we were ready to head to the hospital, and I wasn’t as aware as Erika of how imminent things were. I still figured we had enough time, even though things were progressing quickly.
When Tiffany arrived about 5:30am, we helped Erika into the car and got her settled. I was able to focus on the driving, and we headed out into light early-morning traffic on the local freeway. Despite the rapid progression of labor, I was able to stay calm, and drive much more sedately than I normally do. Partly I wanted to not scare Erika or disrupt her with too much lane-shifting; and also because I wanted to make sure Tiffany was staying with us. At one point Erika seemed like she needed comforting, so I started to reach over; but she wanted me to stay focused on driving, so I did.
We pulled up to the hospital just after 6am. Tiffany was right behind us, and helped me get Erika out of the car. We both supported her as she walked to the maternity ward. When she paused at the doors, Shana came out to guide us into triage. At this point, things started getting frantic. I was focused on helping Erika, getting her water to drink, and trying to soothe her through the contractions. But as the nurses attempted to get Erika to sit on the bed and get monitoring on her, while getting the necessary paperwork signed, it was obvious that even the professionals were on alert, and trying to work quickly. Tiffany was a great help again, just providing support for me, making sure Erika’s purse and sandals were taken care of, running to get our bags with the camera in it, and even taking some pictures of the process.
Erika was obviously in pain and doing a lot of physical effort at this point. She did not want to sit, but wasn’t able to walk, either. By this point I definitely had adrenaline flowing, but by focusing on her, I didn’t feel scared or overly concerned. In a sense, things were happening too fast for me to worry overly much, so I just concentrated on what was happening with my wife.
The staff wanted to get her to a room, but Erika was not feeling like walking; and while sitting didn’t sound much better, she agreed a wheelchair would probably be best. However, by the time a nurse ran to fetch a wheelchair and return, Shana decided we would not be moving, as the baby’s head had already crowned. So for a contraction or two, I just provided support as Erika held on to me while standing. She then agreed she could probably make it back to one of the gurney beds in the triage room, and we helped her in, onto her hands and knees.
I helped her with more water, and rubbed her shoulders in between contractions. I listened to the nurses debating which room they might be able to get her to, and deciding between just keeping her in triage, or trying to make it to a room. Shana announced that if the baby wasn’t out after the next contraction, we would be running for the room. The nurses tossed a blanket over Erika, and we hurried out the door, as I kept as close as I could to Erika while her bed was wheeled out the back doors of triage, down a short corridor, around a corner, and into the closest room.
I had gotten a quick glimpse of Sylvia’s head earlier, but it was finally when we were in the room that I got a better look at the birthing process. It is not a pretty sight (as most medical-/biological-related are not, to my eyes at least), but it was also not an ugly or offensive sight. There was a bit of wonder present in it. At this point I could see a good portion of the top of Sylvia’s head, and the covering of dark hair that it already had. Shana decided it would probably help the process if we could get Erika onto her side, so several of us managed to tip her over, and I held up her leg to make delivery easier.
It was around this point that I was able to really watch during the contractions, and I could see Sylvia’s head slowly being pushed out into this world. I was suddenly struck by emotion at this new baby, my daughter, arriving. I started tearing up, but was able to hold on to Erika, and help through another couple pushes. Shana then was able to pull Sylvia the rest of the way out. It was 6:33am; we had been at the hospital for half-an-hour, and it was only a bit over two hours since we had woken up.
Sylvia was brought straight to Erika’s chest, still covered in goo and with umbilical cord attached; and not in any way disgusting. She gave her first cry, and I think that let loose the intensity and focus I had had. This new baby had arrived, and the hard work was over.
I noticed I was feeling a bit light-headed, and remembered that I hadn’t had a chance to eat that morning, due to the rush of everything. A nurse made me lie down on the floor, and brought me some crackers and juice, while Tiffany grabbed me a granola bar from our stash of healthy snacks. I was able to recover a bit, and move to sitting on the daybed in the room where I could watch the remaining work. I agreed to cut the umbilical cord after it had stopped pulsing. This was not as bad as I had feared; however, it ended up not being an emotional moment for me, either; it was just a task.
While Shana and the nurses got Erika cleaned up, patched up, and moved to the real bed in the room, I got a chance to hold Sylvia. It was strange holding this new baby: she seemed fragile, with her tiny digits and floppy head; but she also felt dense and warm in my arms. It still didn’t feel completely real, though; this little life in my arms felt special, but not yet personal.
A bit later I watched Erika nurse Sylvia, and it seemed like a significant moment, but I was unsure of the emotions I had: perhaps mostly a fondness for my wife and new baby. Throughout the rest of the day, and even several days later, I haven’t felt like a “father”, or that Sylvia is my “daughter”. I have definitely developed a relationship with her over these past few days, and I do love her very much, but it is also a quickly-changing feeling as I get to know my daughter, and learn her ways (even as those change), and slowly start to see her as a human being instead of just a helpless little creature. But when I pause to really look at her, and think about what she is, and what she will be, it is difficult not to get teary-eyed at how precious and special she is, and how significant she has already become in our lives.