Dashel Richard Hudiburgh

I've thought about writing Dashel's birth story a hundred times. I've tried, knocked out a few sentences and stopped. Distracted as always...

My third and final baby is 6 months old today. A half a year! My heart is breaking and bursting. That's possible right? It's breaking at how quickly time passes. Milestones are coming quicker than I remember. All things baby are lasts. Maybe that's why I've avoided writing. Maybe. My heart is bursting because I have a thriving, happy, chill little dude. Seriously he's so happy and his smiles...the best. He is so desperate to do everything he sees big brother and sister do that I think he's hitting his milestones in lightning speed just to catch up to them.

Dashel...where do I begin. I wrote my last post the day before he was born. Literally less than 24 hours before he was born. It's like the minute I let go of mentally pushing to go into labor, I went into labor. No joke, I wrote my post, and then went out and cleaned our chicken coop. I feel like I was thinking...well labor isn't happening so I mine as well get off my ass and distract my mind. Cleaning chicken coops do just that.

That night I was laying in bed with Lola and felt the familiar braxton-hicks that had been plaguing me for weeks. It was around 8:30. I remember not wanting to get out of Lola's bed. It's inevitable, towards the end of pregnancy, to look at your youngest, to really soak them in, because you know any day they won't be the youngest anymore. I tickled her back, her arms. I let her talk endlessly, all the while feeling my uterus contacting, becoming more consistent. I thought the longer I lay with her the longer I could avoid wanting to time them.

I did though, start timing them. By 10:30 I knew. They were consistent and growing stronger. I could feel excitement and nervousness tremor through my body. We texted both of our parents. I started to put last minute items in our hospital bags. I brushed my teeth, washed my face. Those random things you start doing before you go to the hospital. I was going through the motions of a normal night, all the while knowing this would not, in fact, be a normal night. Around midnight, things intensified.  I was on the phone with my mom and I would have to stop talking during contractions so I could breathe my way through them. I told Jeff we needed to leave, that things were really picking up. Now, if you talk to my husband I am sure he will say differently, but to me he was taking his sweet time. We had a good 30 minute drive ahead of us between taking the kids to his parents house and getting to the hospital, and yet, he was preparing a pot of coffee!! I kept telling him we needed to go, we needed to load the kids up. "I am not having our baby in the car" I am pretty sure I said that about 10 times.

I remember being in extreme discomfort during the car ride. I remember fear creeping in as the contractions intensified. I'd birthed Brody and Lola naturally, and remembered all to well the excruciating pain that accompanies natural birthing. Mine were not euphoric, barely-any-pain-at-all natural labors. So with each contraction I began anticipating the next one being even worse. We checked into the hospital at 10 minutes to two. The nurses and midwife who joined us for my birth were amazing. The let us lead the way. We set up a diffuser, got oils out and set up the Bose. All the thing I had with Lola's birth. Shortly after, my parents arrived. Initially, I had thought I wanted it to be Jeff and I, but in hindsight, I'm so grateful they stayed in the room. I think Jeff is too.

A part of me hates recalling the moments leading to Dashel's birth because it makes me feel weak. Weak because I had expected more of myself. I had expected to have better control. During Lola's birth I know there was a point where I told Jeff I didn't think I could do it. I knew I would probably feel that way this time too. The emotions this time were out of control. I was in so much pain and the contractions were coming so fast and so strong. Again, anticipation was getting the best of me. I knew in the back of my mind that everything would get stronger, the pain indescribable, unless, of course, you are a mother and have gone through it too. I remember most of the time, I'd get through contractions by standing beside the bed, resting my head on my arms that were folded on the bed. Does that make sense? I'd stay on my legs while my upper body rested on the bed. It got to the point though, where it felt like there was never relief. Not even for a second.

My mom and Jeff were standing with me, taking turns rubbing my back and telling me to breathe,  to try to relax my body. My dad sat quietly in the corner. Later, he told me it hurt him to see me in so much pain; unable to do anything to help. His silent, solid presence was help enough. "I can't do this anymore" escaped from my lips. Quiet at first, but growing louder as I began to repeat it over and over until I was yelling, my voice ragged. Reassurances were washed over me, yes, yes you can, you've done it before, you can do it again. you are strong, you can do this. I felt so weak. So exhausted, I could barely hold myself up, but I refused to move from my position. Afraid. Afraid the pain would increase if I moved. "I want an epidural, I can't do this anymore." I felt like I had broke. I had never asked for one before, and then on my third time, the time I thought I would be the most relaxed, the most in control, I felt like I had lost it all. No, you don't my husband said. You know you don't want one. You know you can do this without one. Rage took over and I yelled at them, Yes I want one. This is my body, this is my labor, I am not a failure for wanting one! My mom had tears in her eyes, not because I wanted an epidural, but because she knew my pain.

My midwife said  I had to be checked and in order to be checked I had to lie down. I did it, I moved onto the bed, thinking if I did, I'd get relief from all the pain. She checked me and I was completely dilated, it was too late. The only thing keeping my baby from being born was the amniotic sac. She could see the baby right on the other side. She asked me if I wanted her to break the water, telling me yes, things would intensify, but the baby would come. I said yes. Five minutes later, Jeff was holding our sweet baby boy. They felt like the longest five minutes of my life. I got on my hands and knees, getting a birthing ball to rest my upper body on. I remember them saying he was coming, just keep pushing. And I kept pushing, and pushing, groans and yells escaping my mouth. My mom, right by my head talking me along, reassuring me, hugging me. My husband, right there ready to deliver our boy, and then the relief, our boy entering the world at 3:40 AM. My body went limp from exhaustion. I remember being kind of stuck on my hands and knees feeling desperate to see my baby to hold him.  It felt like it took forever to get rolled over onto my back and him placed in my arms. And just like that, with my baby boy finally in my arms, everything, all the pain, the feelings of weakness and defeat were gone, and my heart was full.