Transitioning from this...
to this...
Here are some true things:
Evan sat with me in a 103 degree poop soup for around five and a half hours.
As I flopped around like a seal, I left nearly ever surface in our house covered in bodily fluids.
At one point it felt like I vomited out of my vagina. Mucous plug? My water breaking? No idea.
It felt better when Evan compressed my upper pelvis with his knees, so he basically did Thigh Master exercises for ten and a half hours straight.
I lost my voice bellowing in an attempt to drown out the pain.
My butthole turned inside out from the pressure and resembled a sea anemone-- a sight that I, unfortunately, can never unsee thanks to photo documentation.
We got a gravity assist from an uber full moon called the Snow Moon, one of only three supermoons in 2017.
I thought I would feel relief after the baby was born, but instead I was completely unaware that he had been delivered.
My first words upon seeing our child were, "Is he dead?" because he was so blue, limp, and quiet. This was purely information gathering on my part as exhaustion had drowned out other feelings at that point. Spoiler: he wasn't.
Our child was born at home with a doula (Anna Hulme) and two midwives (his aunt, Heather, and Heidi Stearns). Heather coached me, Evan held me, Heidi took medical lead, Anna held down the fort, and the baby under-excelled in all the right places (99th percentile in height; 90th percentile in weight; 7th percentile in head diameter). Throw in a whole lotta luck and the end result was no tearing, no hemorrhoids, minimal bleeding, a healthy baby, and two exhausted parents. Teamwork makes the dream work.
Many of the meals kind friends have brought us in the wake of our child's birth have included game meat, proving that this is after all a Wyoming birth story.
So all that happened. And we have an amazing little human to show for it.
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