When I first wrote my birth story, it looked more like a page of timestamped notes than a story. I recorded every minute that I could remember leading up to E’s birth, because I knew I’d forget the details later. And, as I sit here re-reading it, I realize that I did forget those details. What really stuck in my mind were the feelings; the sensations.
Before I get into the details of the birth, I must first comment on the incredible timing of the whole thing. It was almost three weeks before my due date. TJ spent the summer in California, and he had just arrived home. On our calendar that week, we had plans to move into a new apartment, attend my baby shower, prepare cloth diapers, meet with our doula to learn comfort measures for birth, and attend my first breastfeeding class. Busy, busy week! But on Sunday morning–the day before our big move–I felt a trickle of water run down my leg. I brushed it off as normal, but the leaking continued into the evening, when TJ finally convinced me to call my midwife. We met her at the birth center, where she held up a red test stick and said, “Yep. It’s amniotic fluid. We’ve got to get you ready to have this baby as soon as possible.“