Lucille Marie slid into the world one month ago today, at 8:05 p.m., in
Southfield, Michigan, at Providence Hospital’s Alternative Birth Center,
welcomed by Mom, Dad, doula Erin, nurse Heather and midwife Mary. Compared to
the first, it was a very different, but just as amazing, labor and birth.
Although Lucy arrived six days prior to her due date, unlike
her sister, I was ready. In fact, I’d been ready for nearly two weeks. Will and
I, the midwives, and doula Erin were all expecting an early arrival. And
because of the tendency for second births to speed along compared to first
births, there was an urgency for preparedness.
Instead of a panicked waking to water breaking, I spent two
weeks waking and wondering… Instead of spending the “birth morning” packing a
bag, installing a car seat and scrambling to get last minute work tasks taken
care of, I spent the weeks prior driving around with my birth bag in the trunk,
the car seat installed and taking care of secondary office tasks, including laying
out ads due in February.
Little Lucy was lying low, however. Both figuratively and
literally. Despite weeks of Braxton Hicks contractions, there was no imminent
sign of her arrival. And she, literally, was crazy-low in my pelvis; so low
that the midwives couldn’t get a good measurement and sent me for a last minute
ultrasound, worried Baby Spurgeon wasn’t growing. (Instead, the ultrasound
showed she was right on track, just SUPER low – and seemingly ready to go. A
week and a half before she came. Sigh.)
What happened to hasten her arrival? Well, something
definitely hastened it, but it was a long day in coming… But, I’ll get to that.
A big concern of mine, besides the prospect of giving birth
on I-96 East’s shoulder, was having Maizey taken care of. So, when our go-to,
Uncle Paul, left for a NYC wedding, I requested Grandma Betty come down and
play on-call-nanny from Wednesday, Sept. 18 – Monday, Sept. 23. She was fabulous to have around, and gave me
a chance to rest… However, I would be fibbing if I said there wasn’t pressure
to push this baby out during her sojourn. Otherwise, I felt she’d have come
down for naught. From Escanaba, a long way to travel.
Oh – I have to insert a sidebar – though it’s not the
midwive’s practice to check for dilation or effacement, since it isn’t
definitive of anything and can dampen spirits, at my appointment on Friday,
Sept. 20, I asked midwife Sarah H to take a look. To her surprise (and my
relief – I mean, I’d thought this baby was on the way for the last two weeks),
I was 4 cm dilated, 80% effaced and Baby was in a Stage +1. Although many women
walk around like this for up to a week, Sarah explained it was a good
indication that we’d be meeting her/him sooner rather than later, and that
labor would be faster rather than slower.
Anyhow, toward the end of her time with us, Grandma Betty
suggested Will and I go out on a date, something we hadn’t done in months. On
Saturday we left Maizey with Grandma and headed to a matinee, “The Prisoner”
(not so great – but I got to eat a huge tub of popcorn), and an early dinner.
We dined at a new BBQ place in Wolverine Lake and wondered
about Baby Spurgeon’s arrival. Namely, the “when.” While waiting for our
entrees I received a text from doula Erin, asking how things were going and
reminding me to drink a lot of water and eat healthy in these “last days/hours”
before birth. I’d just ordered a fat Coke and poutine tator tots. What are
poutine tator tots? Well, tator tots, obviously, covered in brown gravy and
cheese curds. (And remember, this was post-popcorn.)
I got my obligatory evening Grandma Betty foot rub and
headed to bed around 9, hopeful but doubtful.
Per usual, I slept fitfully, waking at 3 a.m. Will headed
downstairs so I could get some more rest and I slept until 7:30. Upon rising, I
felt a little off and was having some contractions, but really felt they were more
of the same – damn Braxtons. Will suggested a walk, since that would either
help stop them (fake) or encourage them (real) and Betty agreed to be on Maizey
wake-up duty.
At 8 a.m., we took to the Milford streets, watching the
classic cars line up and assemble for the Annual Milford Car Show. We laughed –
as I stared at the cars, the drivers stared back at me – an obviously pregnant
woman huffing and puffing, waddling down Main Street.
Will used an app on my phone to time the contractions, which
were decently far apart and not very intense. But, there was a pattern = probably
not Braxton Hicks. YAY! So as not to tire myself out, instead of another lap, we
returned home, greeted by a smiling Maizey and breakfast prepped by Grandma
Betty.
Still unsure how long I had until “active labor,” we made
plans to walk downtown, look at the cars, and take in the pre-Duck Race
festivities. Around 10 a.m., I went upstairs to shower and started having more
regular, slightly more intense contractions. Wary of birthing a babe on I-96, I called Will
upstairs and told him that instead of the Duck Race, we should probably head to
the hospital. Wahoo.
As Grandma and Maizey played in the living room, I called
the midwife emergency number and was connected to the midwife on-call, Mary.
She was the midwife that Will and I met originally, before having Maizey, and
who convinced us to go the ABC route. Of course, during this pregnancy, I hadn’t
seen her once during an office visit. She remembered us, though, and we
candidly discussed my I-96 fears.
My plans to rush out the door screeched to a halt when Mary
told me that there were no rooms available at the ABC. Other ladies were
birthing babies. (The nerve?!)
I had three options. I could report to Providence Southfield
and check into the regular Labor and Delivery unit (not a good option), I could
hang out at home and wait for a room to open up (also not a super option), or I
could travel to Southfield and wait near the hospital for a vacant bed. (Best
option, but talk about feeling like Mary and Joseph.)
Maizey and Betty headed downtown.
We said our goodbyes.
We packed up the car and headed out around noon. I was
having regular, but not intense, contractions. Ten miles from Milford I suspected
I’d forgotten my $50 homeopathic birth supplies. After pulling into the Wixom
Veterinary parking lot and doing a trunk sweep, I made Will turn the car
around. At 12:30 p.m., homeopaths in hand, we headed out again.
No traffic and no baby born on I-96, we arrived at
Providence Southfield at 1:30 p.m. Unlike Maizey’s birth, there was no need to
valet, so we leisurely parked the car and I called to see if a bed had opened
up.
There hadn’t.
Damn.
Mary suggested Will and I walk around outside, or go to a
Panera to relax, and call back in an hour. Doula Erin, via phone, suggested the
same. (Panera? Really?) Being a beautiful day, the walk sounded better, and although
the surroundings left something to be desired (Southfield isn’t really the
mecca of parks and recreation), it was nice to be outside. After four laps past
an Art Van, Coney Island and vacant parking structure, and a laughing fit which
left me with wet pants, I called back.
Still no room.
Damn. Damn.
Spying what looked like a mall within walking distance, and
hoping to purchase some new, dry drawers, I requested that be our new
destination. It was around 3 p.m.
Northland Mall is unlike any shopping establishment I have
ever had the pleasure of perusing. Anchor stores are Macy’s and Target. The
rest of the directory reads something like this: Razzle Dazzle, Rice Art, Smoke
N More, Perfect Eyebrow Threading, Beautiful Eyebrows, (yes – two eyebrow
stores), Stepping out Salon, Detroit Gator, Tony’s Europerfumes, Tony’s Europerfumes
2, and Unique Perfumes (no – this mall is not excessively large, IMO, to warrant
three perfumeries), and my personal favorite, Hello Gor’Jess.
Suffice to say that the excursion was distracting enough to
halt my contractions completely.
After purchasing a new pair of pants and some popcorn at
Target, and an “I just want to go home” breakdown, around 4 p.m. we left the mall
and headed back toward the ABC. In the parking lot, I phoned the third floor.
Still no room.
Screw damn. How about F*&%?
More promises made - a room would be ready at 5:30 p.m.
Will and I got in the X3, me in tears and pleading to just
go home, or for a milkshake, and drove toward Berkley to acquire the latter.
Mission accomplished, we took my milkshake to the Berkley High School track and
attempted to get the contractions going again.
Via the phone, doula Erin suggested nipple stimulation. We
decided it wasn’t quite appropriate for a high school track on a Sunday
evening.
After an hour, we went to the car, I put on my “elemental”
playlist (think rainforest, ocean, rain background noise) and Will drove. And
drove. And drove. Hallelujah - contractions were back. Around 6 p.m., upon
arriving back at the ABC, I received the new Mary and Joseph never got.
There was a room available.
Kinder words were never spoken.
Dee, ABC nurse extraordinaire, greeted us. “Well, come onnnn
in!” she bellowed, and pointed to room 329, the same room in which Maizey was
born.
I dumped my gear in a corner (much less gear than the first
time), and hopped on the double bed, eager to learn my labor stage. Midwife
Mary appeared, and welcomed us like old friends, offering hugs. “Let’s see what’s
going on…”
The news after a “vigorous” exam? Seven centimeters.
I redressed while Mary explained that a (gross terminology
ahead) “bulgy bag of waters” was slowing things down. My options were for her
to break the bag of waters, which would hasten things along, or to just let labor
progress naturally. I opted for the natural route and accompanied Will to the
lobby to check in. We returned to the ABC via the stairs, where no fewer than 3
people asked if I needed help. Exasperated, I decided returning to our room was
a better option wandering the hallways, instigating panic.
In our room I got in the shower and weathered some strong
contractions. After about 30 minutes, around 7:40, I felt the need to push.
Will got Mary and her advice was “Well, unless you want to have a shower birth,
why don’t you come outta there.” Aye Aye!
Another exam. Eight centimeters.
Once again, Mary provided the “water breaking” option.
My response? “Do it.”
“Things will go really fast, then.” She explained.
“Great.”
Now, it may not seem like I’d been laboring too long.
Granted, I’d only been at the hospital for an hour and a half. BUT, I had been
waiting for this baby for two weeks, and after the stress of the “no room at
the inn” day, was just ready to get the show on the road.
“Are you sure?” Mary asked.
“Yes.”
I rolled onto my back and 30 seconds later, a semi-truck slammed
into my lower abdomen.
Tears.
Maizey’s birth was intense, but in a low-grade, slow-moving
train sort of way (I pushed for about an hour). This was a high speed
locomotive with a cattle guard on front birthing experience.
I took to my side and started howling. This breaking water
stuff was no joke.
“Okay Maggie, you need to push.”
I pushed.
In my subconscious I heard Will welcome doula Erin – she arrived
just in time to watch the action.
“Doing great Maggie.”
They took the baby’s heart rate. It was dropping.
“Okay Maggie. You need to get Baby out on this push. Will –
come down here to catch.”
And PUSHHHHHHHH!
Now, about this time I was in some serious pain and wasn’t
keen on the fact that Baby Spurgeon wasn’t out yet. Apparently, for a minute,
her shoulder was stuck. Awesome. But, I just kept pushing. Longest. Push. Ever.
“Baby’s here! Great job, Maggie!”
Will placed my slimy, pooping (yes – pooping) baby on my
chest.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We don’t know – you need to check,” smiled Mary.
I moved the cord aside.
“It’s a girl.”
More tears.
Happy ones.
Baby Spurgeon was born at 8:05 p.m.; seven and a half hours after leaving home, two hours after checking into the hospital, five minutes after breaking
my water and two pushes later.
At 11:30 p.m., Will named her. Lucille Marie Spurgeon.
Happy one month birthday, to my precious blonde babe.
