Uriah Blaine's Birth Story

[Preface: This isn't just a chronological order of events leading up to a baby being born. No, this is our story of how the strength of a family, and the will of a mother gave birth to a baby.]

Although I enjoyed my pregnancy with my child I'm not about to tell you it was easy. It was preparing me though, in the most delightful of ways, for motherhood. Pregnancy was beautiful, even through the struggles, and it should be no surprise that separating from my baby for the first time wouldn't be easy.

(All pictures done by Jessica Kirkland Photography)

Every Wednesday for about 36 weeks I counted 7 days closer to my due date, even though I knew he'd be late, after all, he is a Gilbert. I hoped he would come early, but I knew deep down he wouldn't be. My uterus was just that incredible. So at 40 weeks pregnant the morning rose, and the evening faded, and I rolled my big pregnant belly back to bed for another night of 30-point turn rollovers, 4 trips to the bathroom, and countless braxton hicks.
It wasn't until 3 more nights of this had passed that I woke up on Saturday the 11th at 4 am, with a real-deal, undeniable, no messing around, contraction. It was very exciting, but I was very tired still, and desperately needed a shower. So I took a shower, and did what I had done every morning of the last month: I went back to bed. I knew I was going to need the rest. So I laid back down and thought, "Well, this is how my story begins, 'Big ol' pregnant lady goes back to sleep' How exciting." Are you hooked yet?
I woke back up around 7 am. Since it was a Saturday I thought I'd let my late-riser husband sleep in for what would probably be the last morning to do so for the next 18 years. That lasted all of 30 minutes when I decided I was HUNGRY. My appetite proved to be a driving force behind much of my labor. I woke up my man and told him the good news. My contractions were about 6 minutes apart from the get-go, but my husband wasn't convinced because he didn't want to get his hopes up.
 He arose and made me breakfast. Suddenly, all of the nesting that I never really got hit him hard. He was running around scrubbing the apartment top to bottom while I was rolling around on the yoga ball ohh-ing and ahh-ing through contractions. He also had time to run to Starbucks for me (what a man) and get in a round of Battlefields all before 3 pm.
All morning and into the afternoon my contractions stayed about 6 minutes apart. Then they started to get a little more "intense" as people like to describe them. They were starting to captivate me. It was no longer something that was happening to my body, but something that I was actively participating in. A wave would roll in, and together we would go deep within where my baby was hidden and protected. I would feel all my muscles focusing, pulling here and there and reaching around my baby. Although it felt painful to me, my muscles knew just where to tighten to bring my baby out ever so slowly, and ever so gently, exactly how he needed to come out.
I got in the shower so I could continue to roll with my body's waves. They started coming quicker, and the water turned bitter cold against my skin. It was then that I knew I needed to gather my team because our journey was getting rocky, and my husband and I needed support from my sister, mother, and my beautiful birth team at Bella Vie to walk with us through this part. Looking back on my labor, I see my birth team as my sherpas. A group of strong individuals guiding me on such a special on momentous journey up my mountain. They weren't forceful or controlling, just there to guide and support me however I needed.
My sister burst through the door of our apartment as I was trying to figure out how to get dressed while contracting. I had never been happier to see her. Although she's been there for me for literally my whole life, I've never felt more connected to her than in that moment. She rushed to my side and helped me through the rough transition from pregnancy to motherhood. I felt empathy in her touch, I felt that she had been there, and she met me right where I was. She felt those waves, that tightening. She's walked down that road twice already and she was wholly and completely present with me through every contraction. It was beautiful, and desperately needed. While my husband was my rock, grounding me, my sister floated with me, both were just what I needed.
Off we flew to Bella Vie because although the last thing I wanted to do was get in the car, my midwife, Lenore, was waiting at the place that had become our home away from home, and they had a tub there. A big, beautiful tub, full of warm water that was beckoning me.
Laboring in the car wasn't the most serene or graceful thing I've ever done, but I survived and we found ourselves at Bella Vie. I knew walking up those steps on the front porch I was about to meet my game-changer. He was a "few" contractions away and I'd meet him, in a beautiful room, full of warm hearts. The car ride seemed long, but there was no place I'd rather be.

I slipped into the glorious tub and the water felt blissful. I labored there for awhile. My husband kept me steady and sang my birthing song with me, helping me keep it low and mellow. The song should probably never be recorded, but the low moans helped me relax my face, and helped me to breath. Relaxing my face helped me relax my body.

After about an hour of laboring here and there I felt myself slipping away from my contractions. I wasn't participating with them, I just wanted to escape them. I asked for a cervical check. It would be the first one of my entire pregnancy. I told my midwives at my last appointment that I didn't want to know the numbers if they thought it would give me a mental block. So I was checked, and I was simply told I needed to make more progress. Progressing at that time was rough. My contractions were on top of me, and I was fighting them. I wanted to go to the hospital to escape the pain. At the hospital there were women sleeping through contractions, or laughing and watching TV as their uterus' silently brought their babies down. "That could be me." I thought. But that was never what I wanted. Hospitals have always scared me. I hated the idea of someone I didn't know in my very very personal space.

My team talked me down from my desires of an epidural with the crushing reality that an epidural means another dreadful car ride, scrubs, strange people, AND a big fat needle. I had several pep talks with my sherpas. They had all been there too, and they had the right words to stop my heart and my head from running away. They trusted my body when I was trying to run from it.

Later in the evening I smelled dinner coming from the kitchen. I was starving. Although I could have eaten whatever I wanted, I was nauseous and I had horrendous heartburn. I knew I had to get the baby out before I could enjoy a meal. Baby by dinner was my goal!

Five, six, and seven o'clock slipped on by like a stream over pebbles. I watched the sun fade away as the truth sunk in: our journey was far from over.
Knowing that Uriah and I still had a long road ahead of us before we could see each other, I let myself slip off into "labor land." I let loose, and let go. I gave up trying to put myself on a time schedule  and just got lost in the waves. I occasionally was brought back to earth to either go to the bathroom or drink water, my two very least favorite things to do.

At some point when the night was dark, and time held no meaning to me anymore, I had another cervical exam. Lenore told me I was at an 8 which was considerable progress since when I arrived I was only a 2, which isn't even considered active labor. I couldn't believe I was only a 2 when I got there. Thank goodness they never told me. When I learned I was at 8 it was just fine for me because I was coasting. That's not to say that my contractions were less painful, but I was letting them come and letting them go without thinking and obsessing over them.

Soon after my check I felt my body give a little push while I was in the tub. I knew it was too soon to be pushing, so I crawled back to bed to rest for awhile. The nausea that had followed me throughout labor finally climaxed, and I puked hard. Finally! I felt so much better.
My body gave another push and warm water flowed out of me. I had forgotten all about my bag of waters till they broke. The progress I had been making was becoming obvious. We were getting there.
My body was itching to get back in the water. Back into the tub, I wouldn't be leaving without holding my sweet baby in my arms. I felt my body start laboring my body down. My contractions turned from waves, to pressure, pushing baby down. I could feel how high my son was in the birth canal, so I just let my body do the work without baring down. It was then that I felt the insane, unbridled power of my body. No one had to tell me how, it wasn't something I read in a book, or learned in school. My body was pushing out this baby that it had grown and nourished for 9 months. The power was incredible, and I wasn't even doing anything. I was merely hosting the power that had overtaken my body. To only say that contractions "hurt" is a gross disservice of describing what the female body is capable of. When you hear the tale of a runner winning his race, or a hiker defeating a summit, the pain in training is a source of pride. How much more of a miracle is a baby being born, and yet the pain is viewed as a symptom, not a passage to victory.

Lenore checked my cervix, and I was at 10, but I had a small cervical lip. She encouraged me to let my body work, but try not to push with it. My body worked and worked to bring down my baby. It seemed like eternity. I found comfort from my work by keeping eye contact with my sherpas. I saw strength in their eyes, and I knew everyone believed I could make it over this mountain of a task.
After hours of laboring my baby down I finally felt like I should help my body push. I didn't really know what that meant exactly, but I felt like I wanted to bare down with the waves. I was checked again, and the lip was gone.

I talked to my baby and told him I couldn't wait to meet him. I was so ready.
Mustering up the furthest reaches of my strength, will and determination I pushed HARD. Though he felt so far away from crowning, I pushed. With my fingers, arms, legs, toes, and every inch of me, I pushed. There was a remarkable amount of power and strength radiating through my body. Each wave would roll in and I'd wait and wait till I got to the top, and we would come crashing down with force.

It was the biggest, hardest task of my life, but my baby and I were doing it perfectly. I could feel him twisting and turning his way down. I found myself moving in and out of different positions. I finally found myself in the corner of the tub, the perfect place. I held myself up on the edge and let my legs and hips float, free of pressure. My husband sat in front of me, just outside the tub.

"I'm gonna shoot this baby out at you!" I warned him. And although he didn't exactly "shoot out" he did start coming out. I felt the ring of fire. I felt the head slowly, so very slowly, come out. His head felt a mile long. I watched everyone in the room watch me. Their faces willed with awe, and stacked with anticipation. The mood was calm and quiet though all of our lives were about to change. It might have been due to the sleepiness of being awake all night, or the sense that something big and powerful was happening, or maybe both.

 This was it. This was really it. I felt my son's face slide out of me, and finally, his head was out.
After I got over the disappointment that the rest of his body didn't come out with his head, and I would have to wait for another contraction, I realized, at long last I could see my baby! I looked down and my jaw dropped. Firstly, there was a head coming out of me. Secondly, it was covered in hair! I don't know why, but I was convinced I'd have a bald baby.

Apparently they couldn't just pull him out, so I waited and waited for what seemed like a lifetime. I couldn't push without a contraction. It finally came though. I felt it coming from a mile away, and I let it build I knew I only needed one epic final push to meet my son. At the peak of the wave I pushed with my whole being. My whole body shook as I gave up everything in one last push.
A perfect baby slid into the water, and into his daddy's eager hands. Uriah Blaine Gilbert was handed to me, and I clutched him to my chest. Just like that I had become a mother, and suddenly my whole heart was captivated by this tiny baby on my chest. I kissed his head, and called his name, and he let out a tiny cry.

I did it. I brought my baby into the world, in an incredible display of my strength as a mother. I'll never be the same and neither will my husband. Our lives were changed by the journey, and this destination of parenthood is the ultimate reward.

I held my son in my arms as I looked him over. A perfect butt chin, just like his daddy's, a a cute little nose, perfect lips, and two ears that are to die for. He had big strong hands that had blisters on them from him sucking on them in my belly, my silly baby.
I cried. The tears slipped from my eyes as I found every inch of perfection that his daddy and I created together, and my body sustained. My husband cried too as he held the two of us. A family of three at long last.

We spent time bonding with our baby, and about 45 minutes after birth Uriah's placenta was delivered. An incredible heart-shaped organ that my body made to grow my child. We sat staring at our son for what seemed like an eternity, I brought my son to my chest and he latched on like he had done it a million times. I cried some more. Such a wonderful way to bond with him.

 Soon after he was done, my husband cut the cord. He was surprised how strong it was. They weighed and measured our son, 9 pounds 2 ounces, and 21.5 inches long. A little moose baby! I was examined for tears and I only needed one small stitch.

Next my husband got to hold him, and my heart just ran over with love and admiration. Nothing has ever been so perfect. We turned off our phones so we could focus on resting and bonding with our child. Laying there with our son was the only thing we felt we needed to do... Oh and eat. The food was incredible, the service was even better. We had a 24 hour postpartum midwife stay with us for help with anything we needed, including making us homemade meals. We were able to co-sleep the first night in a comfy queen sized bed. The next day we had a peaceful herbal bath to speed healing. We went home that afternoon after checkout.

We couldn't have imagined a better birth, or a better story. I've never been more in awe, or more thankful for God's gift of his creations. I never in my life felt perfect, but now I have a small glimpse of how He sees me, because I look at my son, and I've never seen anything more perfect.

We are so thankful for our sherpas.. err I mean midwives at Bella Vie for their love, guidance, and trust. We are thankful for my sister and mother for their help. Also for Jessica Kirkland for capturing the best moments of our lives in pictures.