MALI'S BIRTH STORY

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday, laying back down after a bathroom break I heard a "pop" and suddenly there was water. And a lot of it. Not just a trickle. Like waddling around our room and loft with a soaked bath towel between my legs. Is that too graphic? I texted my sister (she's a midwife), I texted my parents (it's happening, can you bring me toilet paper tomorrow, and text my boss that I won't be working today), and I woke up Bryan to let him know it was happening. It wasn't supposed to be happening today... at least in my mind I had convinced myself that I was going to be over my "due date" which was three days away. It was my last day of work before my leave for one of my jobs. Turns out, I wasn't going to make it.

After looking through my pre-natal paperwork for "When to call your midwife", I decided to give her a call. She picked up right away. She happened to be awake. She told me to try to get some rest, it could be a while. But contractions started shortly after, around 3 a.m., and I couldn't get myself to sleep. I put on my noise cancelling headphones and played my "Birth (calm & soothing)" playlist (turns out my "Birth (upbeat)" playlist would be useless after all), and tried to lay down beside Bryan who I had told to get some sleep while he still could. But laying down wasn't cutting it so I got up and swayed, just me, my headphones, and a comb in hand.

Bryan woke up around 6:15 a.m., I guess he wasn't going into work either. Forty-five minutes later, I decided to call my midwife to give her an update: contractions ranged from 30 seconds to 1 minute, every 2 to 4 minutes. She joined us at home a couple of hours later. I was surprised and encouraged to hear that I was already at 5 cm. It was going faster and smoother than I had expected. I continued to sway to the music in the loft, my midwife sipping her coffee below, the first rain in ages dripping on the window, Bryan nearby or getting the birth pool ready.

My midwife, hearing things intensify, suggested I get in the pool. Shortly after, the second midwife arrived. 12:47 p.m. : 6-7 cm. 2:03 p.m. : 8 cm, 9 cm with contractions. 2:15 p.m. urge to push began. Around 3 p.m. my sister arrived. I had wanted her there since the moment I knew I was pregnant but we didn't know if it was going to be possible with the pandemic, child care, etc. But she made it and my heart could have exploded. We touched for the first time in 9 months (thanks COVID).

Despite being in fairly good spirits (I remember cracking jokes in between urges... at least I thought I was pretty funny), I was stuck at 9 cm pushing on and off with my body standing in the way. It felt like we tried everything: the midwife giving me a hand (literally), different positions, out of the water, on the bed, upside down... but baby wasn't liking any of it. So my midwives suggested that we take a ride in the ambulance and they made the call.

Defeated. That's how I felt. My sister broke the news that the doctor on call was already scheduling my c-section. Without seeing me. Angry. That's how I felt. Expletive words. That's what I said. I didn't feel like I was at the point of needing a c-section. My sister told me that I would have to advocate for myself and trust my midwife. Her first birth had also needed an ambulance ride. 6:28 p.m. : I began my pant-less (hi neighbours!) walk to the ambulance pausing for a contraction or two. Entering the ambulance, without Bryan, afraid he would miss the birth of our child. It felt like the bumpiest and longest ride to Boundary Trails (did I mention it was the day with the highest COVID case counts yet in one of the most unvaccinated regions?) with the contractions more and more spaced out. Bryan following us. Me, hoping he packed my pants.

Through the doors at the hospital, I was begging them to give me my COVID swab knowing Bryan couldn't join me until the results came in (estimated 40? minutes). Nurse swabs. "Oh no" - me. "I know" - nurse thinking I hated the swab. "No, a contraction" - me. Think a COVID swab is bad? Try doing it at the same time as a contraction. We get in the room, I go onto the bed, nurses and midwives flying around setting up the room, the doctor checking me and letting my midwife know that what was standing in the way was no longer there. This is it, it was happening. "Get Bryan f*ing in here" - me to whoever was listening. So the paramedic went to get Bryan (this baby didn't want to wait 40 minutes for my results). My midwife told the nurse to grab my camera. And just like that, Mali was born, and my heart exploded again. Relief, immeasurable overwhelming love, grateful. It hadn't been 30 minutes since we arrived.

I look back on Mali's birth story and I don't feel the chaos. I feel empowered, and capable, and supported by people who understood my values and believed in me. And, of course, the indescribable, overwhelming, life-changing love and joy of welcoming Mali. These pictures were taken by Bryan, my midwives, my sister, and myself and are a testament to being surrounded by people who took the time to understand me. And for that, and so much more, I am forever grateful.

Birthing pool: The Prairie Dragonfly