Mama's Stomach Broke: Wyatt Che's Birth Story

Photo Credit: Joanne Scott

The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.  --Robert Burns

I bought a delicate, tissue-thin kaftan (okay, a glorified muumuu) specifically for the day of the birth.  I had an idea of what the birth would look like:



Floating about the house in my kaftan, I would stop every now and then to breathe in and out the contractions. Once the contractions got more visceral, Levi's grandparents would come to pick him up along with my mother.  Before sending him off, I would hug my only child of two years and give him one long meaningful look--the next time I saw him, he would be one of two children.  Then cue the midwife--dressed in her scrubs, calm and collected.  Then as the time got closer, Doug would hunker down with me and help me navigate the baby underworld to meet the baby.

I thought it would take an entire day and night, perhaps.

Nope, nope, nope.  My plan was way off track.  The kaftan remains unworn in my closet.  I did not float around the house--I rolled around.  Levi never left.  I didn't hug him; he hugged me and looked at me with a kind smile.  My midwife, still in her jammies, came about 25 minutes before the baby arrived.  She ran from the door to me.  Levi and my mother guided me through that no-man's-land while Doug did his doula duties.

Wyatt was born in a New York minute, which is what three hours felt like.  Not an entire day and night.

At 3am my water broke and the silliest thing was while the water gushed out, I impulsively tried to hold it in by squeezing my legs shut.  I texted my midwife who was just about to retire for the night and advised me to do the same--sleep and get as much rest as possible.  I went back to bed but at 3:20 am the first contraction hit.  And it felt quite like active labor, not the every-ten-minutes-sigh-and-smile-gee-can-you-believe-it? kind of labor.

Sleeping became futile so I went upstairs so Doug could get some shuteye.  The rushes kept on coming. I rocked on all fours.  I swayed a bit on the birthing ball.  Turned on some lights in the living room, thinking it would help slow down the contractions, but soon enough I realized I was running out of tricks and needed my Doug.  At about 4:30 am I went downstairs (stopping once on the steps to roll through a rush) to tell Doug it was time.

He nodded and went back to sleep.

I shook his feet with urgency.  Doug was up in a flash, adrenaline coursing through his body.  As we went back upstairs, Doug held my hips together, a maneuver the doula showed him last time.  He blew up the birthing pool, waking my mother up.  My contractions were one minute apart, one minute long but it felt as if they were piling upon each other, giving me very little time to rest.

I collected some pillows and placed them between my knees, under my belly and under my head while lying on my side.  Alternating between that and rocking on all fours helped me ride the rushes.  I told Doug to text the babysitter not to come--it was obviously not going to be a regular day for Levi.

At around 5:30 Levi woke up unbeknownst to me.  Someone made toast with butter and honey.  After I took a bite and couldn't swallow, I knew birth was imminent.  I saw Levi looking down at me inquisitively, munching on toast.  Baby soon born, he said.  I didn't think; I only felt.  I felt mildly concerned that Levi was still here and then I just did not care--my insides were squeezed compact.

Photo Credit: Douglas Ridloff

I wanted to labor calmly and peacefully so Levi could see that this was not a traumatic experience--this was his baby brother coming.  My mother, on the phone with Kimm, asked me if I felt pressure.  This question was overdue.  Way.  I answered with a very zealous YES!  Tell the midwife to get here!  No room for niceties.  Later on my mother told me that Kimm was a bit confused because I was smiling when answering questions.

At one point I found myself hugging the birthing pool from the outside.  Levi had his face up close to me, smiling gently.  His hand hugged my cheek just as gently.  Mama, he said.

I tore my jammies off, clambered into the warm pool and slipped into that murky soft mama underworld.  The lights were gentle.  My eyelids became heavy and I felt as if my pupils were dilated.   My body took over, kicking in a natural self-made brew of feel-good hormones.

At 6 am the midwife swooped in just when my body switched to ejection mode.  I was trying not to push, but when I looked down I could see the upper part of my stomach caving in.  Kimm listened to the baby's heartbeat.  Then she told me to push and checked the heartbeat again.  Push, listened.  Push, listened.  Then she told me to get out of the pool in a way that shook me wide awake.

It was outside the pool where, in Levi's words later on, Mama's stomach broke and baby born.

Wyatt Che ushered into a dark February morning at 6:25 am.

Photo Credit: Douglas Ridloff

Our beautiful boy Wyatt Che was suddenly here with us.  We were all stunned.  That's it?  Doug blew up the air bed in the living room and I was escorted by Kimm and her assistant Michelle to the bed with our new son.

Photo Credit: Joanne Scott

Levi climbed into bed with us to watch the midwife do her usual duties--weighing, measuring and checking. Levi watched and Wyatt scored a 9/10 on the Apgar score.

Photo Credit: Joanne Scott

Levi watched and fed me some felt sandwiches while Wyatt nursed under the covers.

Photo Credit: Joanne Scott

My mother in law shared with me one of her mother's favorite sayings in Yiddish: Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht.  Translation: Man plans while God laughs.  On this cold February morning, He laughed and planned something even better.

Photo Credit: Douglas Ridloff