
My daughter Karuna was born on April 5th, 2016. She made me a mother.
A week later, I jotted down a collection of notes titled ‘Labor Impressions.’ I always wanted to remember her birth story.
Today, nearly nine years later, I am revisiting those notes and turning them into a cohesive piece of writing.
Enjoy~
The spring of 2016 came early in Seattle, and was dazzling in its abundance and beauty. By early April, the temperatures were already in the seventies. Lush pink blossoms hung from generous cherry trees, and the skies were an immaculate blue.
My due date was April 5th.
On the morning of April 4th, I checked my cervix in the shower. I had been in the practice of doing so for years because it helped me know where I was in my cycle.
Years before, as a student at the University of Washington, I had taken a class called ‘The Psychobiology of Women.’ On the first day, the female professor stepped up to the podium, cleared her throat, and said into the microphone, ‘It is totally normal for women to have discharge in their underwear at every stage of their cycle.’
Eyes widened and people froze. The large lecture hall (including some blessed young men) became completely silent.
‘Good, now that we have that out of the way, let’s get down to business,’ she said.
That was the beginning of one of the best classes I ever took. For the rest of the quarter, we learned about hormone cycles, fertility, and the ever-changing nature of the cervix. That is when I began checking my own cervix in the shower every morning.
Years later, on April 4th, 2016, I checked my cervix and felt a tiny hole. I had never experienced that before. I got out of the shower and called my midwife. She invited me to come in for an exam.
That evening, I drove across the West Seattle Bridge to Madison Valley, a posh neighborhood overlooking Lake Washington. Emi’s office was perched on the hillside.
Upon arrival, I disrobed and climbed onto her table. In addition to performing a basic exam, Emi asked me if I wanted to have my membranes swept. A membrane sweep is a standard in-office procedure that can help induce labor. It involves the practitioner inserting a finger into the pregnant woman’s cervix and swirling it in a circular motion to separate the membranes from the lower uterine segment.
It was painful. I felt a deep cramping in my womb and instinctively tensed against it. Then I reminded myself to relax, and began to take long, slow breaths.
When Emi finished the exam, she confirmed that my cervix had begun to dilate. ‘You are in early labor, my dear,’ she said. ‘Your body is opening beautifully.’
I was simultaneously excited and nervous. She told me that I may experience cramps as a result of the membrane sweep. ‘If you do, give me a call,’ she said.
I agreed, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door. Driving up Madison Avenue, I was in a state of suspended wonder. It was happening. My baby girl was close.
As I crested the hill, a brilliant Seattle sunset revealed itself against the high spring sky. Rich yellows, reds and oranges illuminated the West as I drove home.
Within minutes, the cramping began. It was mild but steady. I returned to our house on the beach, and as I climbed out of the car, a familiar face appeared on the sidewalk. Danny was one of my regulars at West 5, the retro cocktail lounge where I poured drinks. He was a kind man who always left generous tips.
He looked into my eyes and down at my belly and said, ‘How are you? Almost there, right?’
I smiled and said, ‘I’ve begun to dilate. That means the baby is close!’
His eyes widened and he said, ‘Whoa! I feel lucky to have seen you now! I’ll tell everyone at West 5 so we can send you good vibes.’
I smiled and we shared a hug. Then I walked in the front door and climbed the long set up stairs up to our home. I called Emi from the tub to report on the cramping.
‘Do you think it’s just cramps, or actual contractions?!’ I asked her.
‘It could be either,’ she said. ‘We’ll know if you go into labor.’