THE PREPARATION

In the days leading up to Metzli’s birth, I was forced to rest by the conjuring of a low-grade fever. My older two daughters were affected first, and me last. I remember feeling stressed about potentially laboring with a raised temperature, as well as potentially infecting my baby with whatever illness I had in her first days of life. I obsessively washed sheets and clothing and surfaces to try and keep the virus at bay, but I was essentially the virus embodied, and my baby was in my body receiving the necessary antibodies already. Funnily enough, I’ve since learned enough about germ theory to see that my actions were a huge waste of time. Regardless, my heart was in the right place.

Another questionable possibility for me was giving birth to her on her older sister, Isla's birthday, which was only days away. I wasn’t sure how that would make Isla feel, nor was I sure we would be able to have the party we planned for her. Should I cancel? I kept the party scheduled, and constantly debated how to tell Isla it would have to be rescheduled should I go into labor that very day. 

On Monday the 10th, my parents graciously offered to take both girls home after school to have some quality grandparent time and a delicious dinner. I spent that day napping, feeling existentially tired, yet calm and present as I prepared mentally and spiritually for what was to come. The house was in a state of perfection - perfectly organized, perfectly cleaned. I did what I could to channel my perfect birth scenario by writing it out, pulling oracle and tarot cards, setting intentions, journaling to baby Metzli and sitting in silence with my thoughts, fears, wishes and dreams.

To be honest, my memory of those pre-labor days were a blur. I know there was contracting happening, and there was love-making to be sure. My husband, Ryan, and I had avoided doing so for days because we weren’t quite ready to encourage labor along. I wanted to be well and he wanted to finish his workweek. But for some reason, on the morning of Monday the 10th, we knew it was a good time to send some love to my cervix and enjoy each other’s bodies before the postpartum time put a halt on our ability to physically connect in such a way.

That night, after receiving Lorelei and Isla from my parents and putting them to bed, I began contracting in a new way. It was a way I had felt once before about a week earlier, but it didn’t last then, so I prepared for this to end in a few hours as well. I remember the contractions waking me up because they always made me have to pee. They continued into the next morning, and so, after the girls went to school and Ryan returned home, we made love again, knowing that doing so was working and giving my body the message that we were ready for baby Metzli to begin her journey to our arms. I still had a low fever, but I felt okay in some strange way, and Ryan’s workweek was over, so he too was ready to begin this next phase of our life together as the stewards of our family. 

I remember the contractions intensifying as the hours passed, but staying very far apart. They were merely pauses in my daily routine, helping me connect to Metzli and prepare myself mentally for the work that lay ahead. My sister came over with my niece, who is about ten months old and pure joy to be around. She brought me nettle tea and delicious gluten free bread loaves. We walked around the backyard as I contracted here and there and my niece played on the grass.

I remember Ryan holding her and tearing up, saying he was finally feeling excited to have a baby of our own. In this moment I knew Metzli would be here VERY soon. The power of the mind should never be discounted when considering why labor has yet to start. We both needed to be ready, not just me. Finally that time was here. I really loved that morning with my sister. She and Elia were supposed to be at the birth (spoiler alert, it happened too quickly for them to make it) and it felt really good to spend that quiet time together beforehand. 

As the day continued, I noticed that my mucus plug, which had been slowly passing for a few days, was turning into more of a bloody show. Considering all of the factors presenting themselves, I knew deep down labor was going to start, but I kept myself in a state of denial so that I didn’t get too excited or anxious. I love seeing how things unfold when left alone. I am never one to interfere.

Ryan began the school pickup routine that afternoon. He took Isla shopping for birthday party snacks (she had her fifth birthday party scheduled for the following day) while I stayed home and rested as much as I could in preparation for what very well could begin at any moment. That afternoon has already slipped away from memory, becoming a part of the oxytocin blur that has combined everything into one giant cloud of bliss. I remember a lot of laying down and resting while the girls were gone. I vaguely remember them eating dinner without me since I was laying down. Ryan handled dinner, dishes and the bedtime stories and snuggles, I handled the potential early labor and unborn child in my womb. My binge show of choice at the time was The Good Place. Perfectly funny and also intelligent, it was exactly the mind-numbing medicine I needed in order to transition from day to night on what would soon become my baby’s birthday. 

Read Part II