sampson's birth story

It's easy for me to say that giving birth to Sampson was the most important, most significant thing I have done thus far. The experience is bathed in a rosy glow of hindsight--the pain, the confusion, desperation of labor is a dull memory compared to my sense of accomplishment and just how perfect his birth was.

It was two weeks before his due date, and we decided to go to Albany for New Year's Eve to spend it with our friends - a tradition that is about 4 years old. We stuffed our Ikea mattress into the car next to our brand spanking new car seat & headed out on the road.

The theme of the party was "Hunters + Prey" and there were fox hunters with their foxy girlfriends, a moose, fisherman, and a mole. I was the pregnant lady in a flannel shirt barely passing for some sort of lumberjack scarfing down this huge and beautiful filet of salmon and sparkling cider.

On New Year's Day I drove to Jordanville, NY to my sister Kate's house to spend the day with her family. Their home is an emotional refuge for me and I always leave feeling like myself even if I arrive feeling uncertain or lost. It was the perfect way to spend the first day of 2015. There was an English liturgy at midnight at the monastery in the cemetery chapel and Alex drove from Albany and met me there. It was freezing inside the chapel despite two space heaters trying their best to warm the place up, but I was toasty warm with my bun in the oven and Kate's sleeping bag coat. The whole service felt really special. Right before going to sleep that night I started to lose my mucus plug.

I spent the next day with Alika at her apartment in Troy, NY. We walked to the farmer's market and shared a waffle, spanakopita, and grape leaves. We wandered the stalls and I bought Alex some stocking stuffers: pine soap, sausage, mozzarella, and honey. Before leaving I impulsively bought a $10 jar of "Adirondack Jack" peanut/almond butter with bits of dried cranberries and a bag of apples.
We stopped at Alika's favorite donut shop and shared a chocolate frosted donut just talking about being peaceful. I continued to spotting throughout the day.

We went to the mall on the way to choir practice near the church and saw Cecelia there who told me multiple times to GO HOME TO BOSTON. It was snowing outside and the weather report called for some nasty road conditions. Of course I didn't listen.

We went to church and sang a Lapaev vigil with our closest friends and Alex conducted. I started having contractions, but they were gentle & everything was quiet, peaceful, and special. I had confession and felt a lot of peace. Afterwards, Alex and I had dinner at the Chinese buffet which I remember thinking was a terrible idea at the beginning of labor, but oh-so-delicious. We decided against driving back to Boston that night--the roads were bad and the weather promised to improve overnight.

I called the midwife about the situation & she recommended a glass of wine and a good nights sleep. I obediently drank the warm Manishewitz that Paddy + Alex made me. A parade of friends one at a time came in to pay their respects with a kiss or a back rub. I couldn't wait for our baby to be born into this wonderful community of friends who love each other.

I woke up at 3 AM. I was wide awake and excited. I went for a drive through the snowy dark roads in search of some hash browns that never materialized. I drove by the church we got married in and just enjoyed being alone + listening to music.

At 6 AM I knew it was time to go. My contractions were six minutes apart and steady. I woke Alex up and we stuffed the mattress back in the car and got on the road. I drove as far as the New York/ Massachusetts border when it became obvious with each contraction and subsequent slowing down of the car that Alex should take over driving. I was drinking water, but not eating because I was hopeful that we would make it to church in Boston & communion.

I remember my sisters adamantly telling me I would not make it to church, but to go straight to the birthing center. The contractions were getting closer and closer together and more intense as we made our way back to Boston. I couldn't stand to have the seatbelt on and as each contraction would start to peak, I would crouch on the passengers seat and make some pathetic noises.

By the time we were getting close to Boston, I knew that my sisters were right. My contractions were three minutes apart and I was not making it to church. I needed to get to our apartment, get this mattress out of the car, pack a bag, and skedaddle to the birthing center. We got back to the apartment, I got into a hot shower while Alex flew around the apartment getting things ready. The shower felt wonderful, but the minute I got out to get dressed I remember walking circles in our living room and feeling my reasoning leave me. I was feeling desperate and not in control. I was wishing that Alex could be there with me and not single handedly dragging that mattress into the apartment.

We got on our way to the birthing center. Alex was driving carefully and smoothly and it was driving me insane. I needed him to hurry up/run red lights/get in front of that moving van/GO FASTER. Poor man. The whole 20 minute ride was spent with me contorting in the front seat with each contraction. The Cambridge Birth Center is an old house with exam rooms on the first floor and the birthing rooms on the second. By magnificent luck the midwife, Heidi, who I had been seeing throughout the pregnancy was the midwife on for that day and because it was a Sunday we were the only ones in the entire building. I dropped my pants, climbed up onto the exam table downstairs, and when Heidi saw the bright red blood in my underwear, she said it was marvelous show, and good for me. She pronounced me 7 cm dilated & I remember feeling elated and relieved that I had made it that far on my own. I walked up the stairs to the birthing rooms in my nuddie pants because, hey, I was the only one there! I got into the room, said hi to the nurse, and immediately puked into a trash can. I put on a sports bra, some bikini bottoms, and climbed into the tub. Heidi took one look at those bikini bottoms and said "how am I supposed to get a baby out through those??" They dutifully came off.

The water was warm, but I'm a freak that likes boiling water in my bathes, so I turned on the shower head on hot,stuck it between my legs, not caring how it looked, and tried my best to relax. Alex fed me bits of farmers market apple & that glorious peanut butter, and tried to get me to drink water. Sunlight was streaming through the windows. I felt the need to concentrate with all my might on what my body was doing to me and tried to shut everything else out. With each contraction I would get vocal and thanked my lucky stars that I was the only one in that building, although I'm sure it I wasn't that I would not have cared. We tried to put some music on, but that got in the way of my concentration, so I demanded that it be turned off. My boiling shower/bath was getting a little hot, so I told Alex I would love some ice water poured on me, which he did, and I shrieked WHY when he did it. Again, poor man. It had been important to me before going into labor that I include Alex in the birth of his son, but I couldn't seem to come out of myself to interact with him. I would get out of the water to try sitting on the labor ball, lie on my side in the bed, or have someone squeeze me hips together + pull back-- some magical trick that seemed to create more room in my pelvis and give me some relief. I couldn't stand being on my back or having an internal exam but managed to do it long enough for Heidi to break my water. Everything intensified from there but I welcomed it because I couldn't stand the thought of being plateaued without any progress.

I got back in the tub, but it wasn't really my jam. I didn't like being still. With each contraction I would get into my tried and true crouching position and wail until it was over and then fall back to wait until the next one. I started to feel very warm and lightheaded and said very calmly "I think I'm going to faint now." and everyone sprang into action to yank me out of the tub.

Every birth story I have ever read talks about feeling this irresistible and very clear urge to push. Well, let this be the first birth story you read where that did not happen. I was back in my favorite crouching position on the floor of the bathroom with my head on Alex's knees when I reached down and felt Sam's head crowning. I gave a couple test pushes while pulling on Alex who was trying without all his might to support me, but instead I was yanking him right off his stool. Heidi hung a sheet over the door to the room, shut it, and had me pull of that while pushing while she lay on the floor under me like a mechanic changing the oil of a car. At one desperate moment I asked me if she could just pull him out of me and she just laughed and said "honey, you have to push him out". I felt the progress I was making with each push and his little body sliding down. I was pulling on those sheets for dear life and remember thinking keep pushing this is the only way this baby is going to come out and how you can finally rest. His head was born and he was screaming. I pushed the rest of him out and Heidi handed him to me and told me to walk to the bed. I held that slippery new thing to my chest and walked to the bed with him still connected to me by the umbilical cord. Alex cut the cord and took him then while the nurse got me out of the sports bra and Heidi delivered the placenta and gave me a few stitches. I had been in labor for nine hours and I pushed for fifteen minutes. 

We named him Sampson. He weighed 6 lbs 14 oz and was 28 inches long. We called our families. Alex's cousins, Xenia & Nick, came & brought me a fish filet & French fries from McDonalds. We laughed, we snuggled, we took many photos. We were discharged six hours after he was born. The nurse tucked us into our car with hugs and we headed home stopping for Indian take out along the way.  There is not one thing I would have changed about his birth and I realize how blessed I am to be able to say that.