Okay, first off--I'm nonbinary trans, specifically agender, and I use they/them pronouns...but I still like to call myself a mama, haha. My midwife was genderqueer and also uses they/them pronouns. And, finally, I'm not assigning my baby a gender, so I'm using they/them pronouns for them.

Oh, one more note--I have a boyfriend of ten years and a girlfriend of four years. All three of us are living together and raising my LO.

Confused yet? I promise I'll try to keep the story as simple as possible!

I was due August 17, 2017, but I started to have painful contractions on July 23. However, they weren't consistent, and, although they lasted for a few hours at a time, they always fizzled eventually. I had contractions daily for the rest of my pregnancy, sometimes 10-15 times an hour for 6+ hours at a time.

Well, how long was that? Uh. ANOTHER TWENTY-FIVE DAYS.

That's right. I was in prodromal labor on and off for 25 days before I actually went into real labor. I googled around (a mistake) and found out that at least most people with serious prodromal labor of the kind I was experiencing had very short active labors. It seemed like a tiny consolation prize, but it gave me some (false) hope as I doubled over and breathed through contractions for the better part of a month.

In fact, I spent August 11 having extremely painful contractions consistently every four minutes, each lasting a minute (so a three minute breathing gap between them) for twenty hours. They eventually tapered off to mild nuisance cramps that came once every 10-15 minutes, though, and my only comfort was knowing I was totally right about not actually being in labor yet.

Unfortunately, they didn't let up. By my sister's birthday on August 15, I'd been having contractions nonstop for over a hundred hours.

Timeline:

Afternoon of 7/23 - evening of 8/10: contractions for 1-6 hours a day

Just before midnight of 8/11 - early morning of 8/16: at least a few contractions each hour

I thought that the pain was at least getting me dilated and effaced, but when my midwife checked me out on the morning of 8/16, I wasn't dilated at all--just 90% effaced after twenty-five days of labor.

Fortunately, though, my midwife said that I was finally--FINALLY--in early labor instead of prodromal labor. And it did feel different--instead of feeling contractions in my uterus, I was feeling them in my thighs!

Honestly, most of my day is a blur--I remember my boyfriend's mom coming over to pick me up for a lunch we'd planned to do, but she just said, "Oh, you poor thing. You poor thing." I think she went and picked up lunch for my boyfriend and girlfriend, who were taking turns helping me time contractions and massaging my thighs to help with the pain.

I labored at home for several hours and finally went to the birth center at about 11pm, when my contractions were at 4-1-1 (which is the standard the center uses).

My water still hadn't broken by that point. I remember that much. But beyond that, I really only remember fragments.

I remember that I tried to take a nice bath in their amazing tub to relax but couldn't get comfortable. I remember switching positions almost constantly to try to get my baby to drop down into position. I used a birthing chair, a balance ball, the bed, the tub, everything.

But what I remember most of all is how I got myself through my contractions. It's kinda ridiculous, admittedly, but what I did was mentally sing the ABCs while pounding my fist on a nearby surface. Why the ABCs? Well, I sang the version where the line at the end goes, "Next time won't you sing with me," and I pictured my baby singing them with me someday, and all the pain felt bearable. I mean, I'd been having contractions for almost a month--I had practice breathing, and I have a super high pain tolerance anyway.

So I breathed. And I sang. And dear God, I wanted to meet my baby.

My water broke while my midwife was off getting something to break my water, which was hilarious. I was at 9.5 at the time.

The morning of August 17--my due date!--my midwife asked me to get into Child's Pose to reposition my baby, and I swear that was the only time I said I couldn't do it. It was excruciating. It was UNBEARABLE. But my midwife held me down when I instinctively lurched out of the position, and it finally worked. My baby finally got into position to push.

I have no idea how long I pushed. I know my midwife had their hand up inside me, pulling my cervix open that final .5 so my baby could get out. They kept their hand in me the whole time I pushed. I did most of my pushing on the delivery chair, the midwife's assistant massaging one thigh while my boyfriend and girlfriend took turns massaging the other (their hands were so sore after more than 24 hours of this!) and I tapped out the frickin' ABCs on the shoulder of whatever poor soul was nearest to me. Every other push, I begged, "Please, can I meet my baby now? I want to meet my baby. Please."

Finally, my midwife directed me to move to the bed for the final round of pushing. It felt like I had a bowling ball between my legs, but onlookers commented that they'd never seen me move so fast in my life!

My midwife wanted me to pause at the Ring Of Fire to give myself time to stretch, but it was absolutely impossible. My baby didn't even crown--they went from having a half-dollar-sized circle of head visible when I pushed to absolutely ROCKETING out of me in one massive push.

My girlfriend was crying as she passed me my perfect little baby. I held them and bawled. "My perfect little angel. Look at my perfect baby! Look at my perfect baby!!"

In fact, I was so preoccupied counting toes that I barely noticed my midwife and their assistant panicking. They both hurriedly gave me two shots of pitocin, a shot of something that started with an 'm', and then my midwife reached into my uterus--yes, my uterus!--to manually extract my placenta because I was bleeding out. It took two sweeps.

Everybody thought it was the funniest thing when all I said about it was, "Oh that feels wEIRd," when apparently it usually requires serious anesthetic? I was too busy crying over the fact that my LO inherited my crooked ring toes to notice any pain, though, hahaha.

They hooked me up to an IV, and my precious little baby got measured and weighed. My baby was born at 3:13pm on 8/17/17 after 25 days of prodromal labor, 12 hours of early labor, and then 18 hours of active labor. They were 7lbs. 10oz. and 18" and I popped them out without any pain medications or interventions. I had some small tears, but nothing bad enough to stitch up.

It's been two months and six days since then. I can't believe it. But my little one is happy and healthy, so I'm happy, too. :)

(and one last photo of the next evening, when we went home!)