The birth story

My labor started on Tuesday night after my friend (and nursing student) Whitney texted me a note about inducing labor. She knew I was a couple days past my due date and was feeling ready . . . it worked. Call me if you want to know the magic ingredients. :)

As I climbed my round body into bed, Franco came and sat right next to me and stared intensely. The dog knew before we did. We thought, “Tonight might be the night.”

The first contraction came moments later. I was certain it was a contraction because it came on just like a wave, peaked, and then faded away. Fifteen minutes another one. Ten minutes another one. We called our doula, Louisa to give her a heads up. She told me to get in the bath with a glass of tea and relax. I envisioned the early labor we had learned about in birth class. You watch a movie, take a bath, take a walk and hug your husband. You don’t need to rush anywhere because there will be plenty of time. In fact, the contractions might fade away and you might sleep for awhile.

My body had different plans. Within the hour contractions were five minutes apart. Then four. I remember looking anxiously at the clock while Jason read the ferry schedule. Pretty soon we threw the suitcase into the car (and the dog, the dog bed, pillows, blankets, baby gear – basically we stuffed our station wagon full). We hopped on the 12:55 ferry – the last ferry for the night – with Louisa. I remember leaning over the rail of the boat, watching Seattle get closer as Jason and Louisa squeezed my back during contractions.

We arrived at the birth center and as I got out of the car I said outloud, “I am prepared to be a one.”

And I was. Which was a bummer because the birth center is like a luxury hotel suite and the tub was already filling with hot water. Our midwife, Mel sent us home.

We headed to my parent’s house and labored through the night. Jason slept with his hands on my back so he could give me a massage during every contraction. Soon the sun was up. It was Wednesday. The contractions were steady.

I can’t recall the exact order of the morning, I was fairly out of it, but we went on a walk and I got into a hot shower, and I paced and moaned around my parents kitchen for a few hours. My mom was always just a little ways away, offering food, massage and comfort. Louisa checked me around 9 am. I was a dilated to a two. I was 12 hours in, having regular and strong contractions and I was a two.

My spirits dropped. How would I make it to a ten and then push a baby out? While Louisa encouraged me to get into an upright position and let gravity help move the baby down, I sort of sunk into the bed and gritted my teeth through each contraction.

I turned to Jason and said, “Forget it. Take me to the hospital and get me an epidural.” I was done. He was kind and gentle and encouraged me to hang in there. He brought in Louisa and I told her I wanted to go to the hospital. Louisa reminded me that Group Health would not admit me until I was dilated to a four. Then she called Mel. Mel – wonderful Mel – had a trick up her sleeve. She knew an acupuncturist who made house calls for laboring women.

At 1:00 Jasmine showed up. The temperature in the room seemed to shift. I tearfully told her that I was worried about the contractions getting stronger. I could barely handle labor at two centimeters. She sat on the bed and promised that turning up the volume of my labor didn’t mean more pain. She was going to help my body become super efficient. So I rolled on my side while she inserted needles in my ears, lower back, and the top of my feet. She rubbed my pinky toe to help the baby tuck its chin and get into the right position. She burned moxa on my calf. In the process I began to relax and let go.

Some time later I woke from what seemed to be the deepest slumber of my life. It felt like I had been in a trance. I turned to Louisa and said, “Oh no, my labor has stalled, I have been asleep for hours.” She smiled and told me that I had been having contractions three minutes apart for two hours. The last thing I remember was Jasmine and the smell of burning sandalwood.

The contractions were strong, but they felt more mellow. Instead of feeling scared and in pain, I felt strong and confident. Each contraction was one step closer to our baby in our arms. I paced the kitchen and felt like I could say “yes” to the discomfort instead of “please stop.”

The next time Louisa checked me I was seven centimeters dilated and well on my way to eight. Mel and Cindie our midwives were en route to the birth center and so were we. For the next several hours I was “in transition” moving from contractions to pushing. I was in the tub, in the shower, on the birth stool, and finally in the bed. The urge to push was overwhelming and my body sort of took over. Everyone in the room was offering support and encouragement. Jason reminded me after each push to take a deep breath. He held my hand and never left my side. I remember Cindie saying, “You are doing it exactly right” after each push. And Louisa reminding me how close I was to the finish line.

Finally Mel told me to look down and put my hand on Baby Shutt’s head. It was right there. This gave me the final burst of energy to push the shoulders out and there he was. Wet and beautiful and perfect. Jason looked at me and with a quavering voice said, “It’s Truman Patrick.”

It was for certain the happiest moment of my life.

Introducing Truman Patrick Shutt. Born on a beautiful day (February 3rd, 2010) at 9:11 at night. 7lbs 5oz, 19 inches long.
We are indeed blessed.