Written Monday May 18th, 2020
From the living room on your first day home

My dearest Alicia,

Welcome to the world!

I am so incredibly honoured to be your mommy and to begin the next part of our journey together.

For 9 months you grew in my belly and had me fascinated everyday and at 10:49pm on Saturday May 16th you completely changed my world.

As you rest peacefully in the beautiful hand-crafted wooden bassinet, I want to share with you your birth story from my point of view.

 

THIS IS “IT”

 

On Friday afternoon, I felt tired. Not physically, but rather because my mind was racing. Little did I know you were simply awakening my senses to what was about to begin.

A little after midnight I started feeling contractions. I stayed in bed as I evaluated whether or not these were “it” and whether I could remain comfortable without waking up your dad.

I soon realized that these were coming at regular intervals. I went upstairs to grab my phone and start tracking the time between each contraction. I came back to bed temporarily only to find myself back upstairs moments later to spend the rest of the night on the couch—tossing from side to side and resting between contractions which were about 10minutes apart.

At 4:41am I started timing them again. They were now just over 5minutes apart. These were “it”. I was in the first stage of labour.  You would soon be coming!

Contd May 22nd

 

I ran myself a hot bath around 6am. It felt amazing to relax and to connect to what the day would bring.

Afterward, I called the birthing unit at the Laurentian Hospital in Sainte-Agathe to let them know that my contractions were 5minutes apart. They told me to stay home until they were 2-3minutes apart for an hour.

Your brother came upstairs around 7am and I told him that his little sister was most likely arriving today. Your dad would also soon be up. I could feel the excitement rising as I anticipated telling him that today would be one of the most important of our lives. I waited until he had the time to go to the bathroom and prepare his coffee before getting into his arms slowly and telling him that his daughter was on her way.

 

 

I prepared smoothie bowls for the three of us and breathed slowly as contractions came on. I was feeling good and letting each of these flow through me like sets of waves. I pictured sets at North Chesterman beach in Tofino that often challenged me to be strong, brave, and patient in order to get passed the break to be in a position to surf. This visual stayed with me for the entirety of labour.

 

 

There was a particular day at North Chesterman when something clicked for me. I had listened to a surf coach talk about remaining calm when caught under a wave. Although it often feels like we are under water forever, in reality, it only takes 10-30secs before the ocean pops us back up to the surface. I remember that moment: when I was hit by a huge set yet felt calm as each wave swallowed me under, only to bring me back up again.

That experience motivated me to remain calm and to surf through contractions. Or rather, to get passed the break so that YOU could surf your wave into our world. And that, you did!

 

 

After breakfast, we took a short walk on the loop of Domaine Guindon. I was moving slowly, breathing deeply, preparing calmly.

Around 11am I started counting the duration between contractions for an hour. They were now just under 3min. It was time to ask Mathéo’s mom to come get him as I knew we were getting closer to go-time! I called the birthing unit once again and they told us to make our way when we were ready.

We gathered our things: the black carry-on with your first pieces and our clothes, the tote bag filled with snacks, water, and disinfectant wipes, the backpack with my camera and important documents, and a pillow for your dad.

 

 

HOSPITAL BOUND

 

I poured myself another hot bath and connected all the more deeply.

Just a little after 1pm we were on our way! Excited and overflowing with anticipation and gratitude.

We were warmly greeted by the staff of the birthing unit and led to the room where I’d continue working through labour before delivery.

The nurse, Geneviève, was kind and friendly. She immediately made us feel safe and taken care of. She shared her love for her work and was genuinely excited for what was about to happen for us. She shared stories about her kids and the joys of being a mom. She checked my vitals and yours. We were both doing great—your heart was beating healthfully and mine joyously.

To our luck, Dre Adam, one of the obstetricians that I had the pleasure of meeting during the week 37+ appointments was on duty. Petite with short brown hair and dark rimmed eyeglasses. She is gentle and warm. During our first meeting she went the extra mile to make sure I was comfortable: giving me her hand so that she could help me up, explaining her every move, speaking softly and clearly.

When she checked to see how dilated my cervix was she was dumbfounded: “How are you this calm? You’re already at 7cm!”

I was surprised! I was hoping to at least be at 3cm but had no idea I was that far along!

The ride was officially on!

Geneviève prepared a hot bath for me in the room across the hall to ease the work through each contraction.

It was hot.

Really fucking hot.

Spa hot.

Dripping sweat hot.

And I loved it!

I spent at least an hour in that tub while your dad gave me ice cold compresses to keep from overheating! The hot-cold combo was so nice and I kept saying it: “Ah. C’est bon.”

It’s amazing how being in the water transforms the sensations of labour. Contractions felt all the more manageable and had it not been for the heat, I probably could have stayed in there even longer. Or better, have a water birth were it allowed in a hospital setting.

 

THE TRANSITION PHASE

 

Geneviève left us at 4pm and Valérie—who was taking over—came to introduce herself. Her youthful energy and enthusiasm were an instant hit! We immediately clicked and were happy that she’d be with us for the rest of the ride. Little did we know that on top of her great personality we were getting access to the best nurse we could have asked for!

I started running low on fuel. It had been hours since I digested the smoothie bowl I had for breakfast and the couple bags of Welsch’s® Fruit Snacks and one chocolate chip oatmeal cookie I had at the hospital were no longer sustaining me. Wanting to keep it light yet get an instant boost before coming out of the bath, I had another cookie. On top of being hungry, I was also definitely overheated. Within minutes of being back in the delivery room, I felt nauseous—something many women in labour experience. Unfortunately the cookie who’s energy I very much needed, didn’t stay down. It felt nice to be relieved of the nausea but looking back I wish I had eaten as a runner would for an ultra marathon. But I was certain we would be running a sprint and that you’d be out into the world in no time. I was wrong about that one!

This marked an important transition in the intensity of labour. I guess that’s why they call it the Transition Phase!

Dre Adam came to check how dilation had progressed. I was now at 9cm. Your head was in the posterior position. Meaning, that although your head was down, your nose was turned towards the sky and your skull against my lower back. It’s possible to deliver this way, however is known to be more painful and explained why I was feeling intense pressure in my back.

Valérie offered to guide us through different positions and techniques to try to get you to turn. I was all in—I knew we could do it! I also wanted to do whatever we could to try as your grandma had delivered Tania this way. The birth was difficult and she stayed in the hospital for 9 days to recuperate from the tear. *Lest not forget the progress that has been made in supporting moms through tough labours in the last 40 years, so fret not little one, grandma’s experience isn’t commonplace nowadays.*

For a few hours I was on the bed, on my hands and knees with either a pillow or peanut shaped ball between my legs. As each contraction came on, Valérie or your dad positioned themselves behind me as they placed their hands on each side of my pelvis squeezing them towards the centre with force. It was hard work for them yet they did it wholeheartedly. It really helped in getting you to turn and enhanced my ability to breathe through the sensations—which were now all the more intense.

By 7pm I was dilated at +2, in other words, 12cm. You had successfully turned and I would soon feel the urge to start pushing. Dre Adam was leaving us and Dre Chalifoux would take over for the delivery.

Having Dre Chalifoux was another sign of just how lucky we are. She was the doctor I met a few days earlier during my week 40 appointment and my favourite of all the doctors I met through pregnancy. She has a captivating presence, takes her time in explaining, listens attentively, and has a motivating essence about her that fit perfectly with me. She wasn’t even supposed to be on duty that night. I don’t think her being there was a coincidence. I am grateful for whatever forces made this happen for us.

 

THE PUSHING MARATHON

 

The feeling to push came on strongly, just like those sets of waves I had been visualizing through each contraction. They were now flowing through me and guiding you down the birth canal. It was time to paddle hard and catch your first wave!

I gave myself the goal to push you out by 8pm. Having a time gave me something manageable to work with. But just as only 4% of women give birth on their due date—and seeing that I was 6 days post—this goal had its own timing in mind.

Valérie, again, was extremely helpful in guiding me to push. Both by letting me know if I was directing the energy in the right way and choosing positions that would make it easy for you to come into this world.

I spent most of the time on my back or on either side as your dad and Valérie would raise my legs to the sky as I pushed for 1…2…3 with each contraction. I didn’t have the strength to pull my legs up by that time. Remember that cookie I threw up? I could have seriously used its energy. So, I was very lucky to have their support!

By 8pm, it felt like you were no where close to making your arrival despite Dre Chalifoux saying that I was getting closer. I reset the goal to 9pm—I was motivated by the notion that your grandparents would be popping a bottle champagne once I’d announce your arrival!

 

 

9pm rolled around.

I kept pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing!!!

Soaking in the words of encouragement provided by my birth team and staying connected to affirmations and mindset tools from surfing, Vipassana meditation, and other mommas helped through each push.

I looked at the picture on the wall straight in front of my spread out legs of a trail in a beautiful forest. I pictured myself making my way to you.

 

 

I reminded myself that my body was made for this. That I could do this. That Mother Nature had designed it to be this way.

I had S.N. Goenka’s voice in my head reminding me to “maintain perfect equanimity” and that “a sensation is a sensation”. I didn’t feel equanimous, but the ephemeral nature of life did help me stay grounded. Knowing that after each set of pushes I’d have a few moments of rest brought some comfort—or rather, hope! With each contraction these moments became shorter, yet they they still provided some reprieve.

I thought of Nadia’s advise to envision the birth canal as a very short road. In an email with a list of her favourite things for babies she added before signing off these words of wisdom:

 

“Keep me posted and also one last trick. When you’re gonna be pushing think of your vag as a small mini length trail for the babe to travel down. Not a 1 km tunnel. Short short tunnel;)”

 

I thought of how badass women are and at times also drifted to thoughts of understanding why women opt for epidurals despite having intended going down the natural route.

Most of all, I thought of YOU. My long-awaited beautiful baby girl. If it was intense for me, I can only imagine what it was like for you to make your journey down the canal to take your first breath. I wanted to stay strong. To make sure that you could flow through me. There was no way I would let you down or give up on you—even if, admittedly, I sometimes thought that I couldn’t push anymore.

At some point I reached another level of struggle. My legs were shaking from the fact that labour was taking a long time and my energy levels were so low. Each series of pushes challenged me.

I asked if we could do something to make it easier. Pardon my french, but I just wanted to get you the fuck out of me at that point! Despite being quite polite in my self-talk, I did let out a few “Mother Fuckers!” and other profanities that seemed to help a little.

I accepted to try Pitocin to intensify the contractions. Pitocin is a synthetic version of the Oxytocin hormone which is responsible for inducing contractions and known as the “love” hormone.

Near the end of the marathon, Dre Chalifoux did a Bloc du nerf honteux—Pudendal Block in english. This injection froze my perineum—a feeling similar to how your gums will feel once they get frozen at the dentist for the first time! They numbed the pain I was feeling down there. It was a godsend!

Shortly after the injection, we—or rather, you— were almost there. Your head was coming out all the more. I dug deep, deeper than I have ever had too and pushed for 1…2…3…4!!!

We arrived at the final stretch. Your head came out and I continued pushing for your shoulders. And then, in a blink of an eye, you were on my chest. That moment has me tearing up just thinking about it. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life, if not the most. I immediately thought “Worth it! Let’s do it again!”

I was overcome with emotion and love. Gratitude. Tears. Your father too. He captured the moment on video and I am so grateful.

These are the first words you heard me speak as you arrived in your new world:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Oh baby girl. Oh my God.”

“Oh my baby. Oh my God.”

“Oh ma belle. Oh hi baby girl. Oh ma belle. WOW. WOW.”

“Es-tu belle mon amour?!”

“Oh WOW.”

“Allo.”

“Ah ma belle.”

“Hi.”

You had arrived.

It was 10:49pm. The perfect time for you to make your grand entrance.

We were in awe of you.

 

***A SPECIAL NOTE ABOUT YOUR DAD***

I can’t say enough about how amazing he was. Not only during delivery but throughout our pregnancy journey. He was by my side every step of the way. During labour, he offered me such a calm and strong presence. He made me feel safe, loved, beautiful, and powerful. He worked hard making sure I had what I needed to thrive. Not even taking a minute to go to the bathroom and barely eating anything himself—good thing Dre Chalifoux reminded him to!

 

 

You came out with vigour. Crying and spreading your limbs. As I held you for the first time, my body continued working: pushing out the placenta and contracting my uterus.

Dre Chalifoux sowed me up as I had a partial 3rd degree tear. I didn’t care what that meant and was grateful for being taken care of.

Within minutes you were taken away from my chest by the nurse. You were having trouble breathing normally as you had swallowed liquid on your way out. For about 45min you were a trooper as three people—a respiratory therapist and two nurses—worked on taking care of you.

Dre Chalifoux was preparing for you to be taken to the nursery so that they could put a more adaptable inhaler on you. As she was explaining this to your father and I, she asked the nurses to put you on my chest for a few minutes before doing so. This is exactly what you needed. Your breath calmed down and soon you were all good! Thank goodness! It would have been harder than labour letting you go without the ability to accompany you due to the COVID-19 rules.

 

 

It was midnight by that point and Valérie had completed her time with us. I don’t know how many times we thanked her and we were sad to see her go then ecstatic to know that we’d see her again during her next shift.

Megan, a young nurse new to the field, was taking over. She was the nurse who administered the Winrho vaccine I needed back in February due to my blood type: A-.

Megan was such a breath of fresh air. Jovial and energetic, she was exactly what we needed to get a boost as she moved us from the delivery room to the room where we would stay for the next few days.

She took care of you and I: carefully checking our vitals, pushing me in a wheel chair to the room, helping Alex bring our bags, guiding me through my first pee. It felt like the biggest pee I’ve ever had! After months of frequent mini-pees due to you growing in my belly it felt like a dam had been opened! She also set us up for your first feed on my breast. She was wonderful to say the least!

 

IN OUR ROOM

 

We were sharing a room with a couple who had welcomed their baby boy a few hours earlier. The proud mom was nursing on her bed and she smiled through the crack in the curtain as Megan rolled me in.

I had a comfortable bed where the headboard is adjustable and you can create an incline at the knees—which is amazing after pushing a baby for 3.5hours!

Your father had a couch that converted into a single cot. Not what you’d consider comfortable yet he quickly fell asleep and I was glad to hear his snores. He had worked hard and I can only imagine the emotions that had been flowing through him as he saw me struggle. (He’s taking a nap on the couch at the moment—as you are in your bassinet. I love you both so so much!)

Once Megan showed me how to get you latched onto my boob, you nursed your little heart out! She had said to aim for 15min, however I think you were on there for at least an hour! I had closed my eyes and lost track of time.

It was after 3am by the time you and I were both asleep.

What a day!

I’m so proud of you! The adventure had officially begun…