Brower’s birth story began on a weak note. After two weeks of labor contractions that would never become regular, my nerves were shot. Consequently, Steve and my kids were also edgy and cranky. It all came to a head on the evening of Thursday November 11th. Steve and Riley got into a huge fight and I jumped right into the middle of it yelling at both of them and finally breaking down and crying. Lovely picture, isn’t it? It was not exactly how I pictured my labor beginning. Maybe the crying spell was a good release though because shortly after my meltdown I noticed that my crazy irregular contractions were becoming less crazy and more regular. I went to bed that night angry with my husband and sad because I knew I was in labor and this was not the storybook beginning to the “perfect birth” I had visualized. I managed to sleep until about 3 a.m. I woke Steve telling him that I needed to get up because I wasn’t able to sleep through the contractions anymore. I was crying because we had quarreled. We kissed; I held him for a long time, thankful for the unconditional love we share. I made a little nest of blankets for myself in front of the little electric “woodstove” in our living room and used our ottoman to support myself while I labored on my hands and knees. I called M around 6:30 a.m. Shortly after I got off the phone with M, L called. I talked to her for awhile but after an intense contraction caused me to drop the phone and scream for Steve; she told me they would be on their way soon. As the contractions became more intense, I would arch myself backwards as far as I could with them which helped take the edge off of the pain. I was hoping that I could last until it was time for the girls to go to school. Riley came in and talked to me for a while. Steve would come in and breathe through the contractions with me. Trapolin cuddled next to me on the blankets murmuring, “Just breathe mommy.” At that point I became a little emotional and asked Steve to take the kids down to Clay’s because I didn’t want for them to be scared. When he returned, I tried to get in the water but it was too soon, it didn’t feel comfortable to me. I was just getting out of the tub when M arrived, a strong contraction stopped me and as I stood leaning up against the sink. I began to rotate my hips in a circular motion during the contractions It was a slow rhythmic dancing sort of movement, I don’t know why I did this; it just felt right at the moment. Steve seemed confused, we hadn’t talked about this. M didn’t seem surprised; she nodded approvingly at Steve. L arrived shortly after M carrying baby T in a Maya pouch. At this point I moved my "nest" over to the sofa and was kneeling next to the sofa, resting my upper body on the cushions in between contractions. When a contraction hit, I would push up with my arms and stretch my body as far as I could, continuing my crazy little labor dance. M & L filled our crock pot with hot water and towels and for the longest time they took turns holding these against my back and applying counter pressure during the contractions. They would slowly move with me as I rotated my hips. I recall hearing L say “welcome your baby” as I was doing this. Steve tried also but he couldn’t quite find the right spot and I screamed M’s name. For the most part he just held my hand, told me he loved me, and brushed the hair from my eyes reassuringly. I had had so little sleep that I kept saying “I can’t do this I am too tired.” I tried to lie down and rest but the contractions were too intense in that position. M would patiently tell me I was doing fine. I focused on baby T, L’s newborn son, thinking to myself “soon I will be holding my baby” I thought about the fact that our home used to be hospital run by a woman doctor. Surely I was not the first woman to give birth here? Were those other women here in spirit blessing the way for my baby? Everyone seemed to be calm and enjoying the birth at one point I remember M saying “I love you L” and L replying, “I love you too,” It was all very warm and surreal. The contractions started to feel funny. When M was out of the room, I checked myself. I felt the bulging bag of waters and I was pretty sure I fully dilated but it didn’t seem as though my labor had been long enough or intense enough so I asked M to check me. She told me I was ready and asked me to try to push during the next contraction. She asked me “How did that feel?” “Different” I told her,” bigger”. My water still hadn’t broken. I asked her to break it. She told me to wait a few more minutes that she thought it would break on its own. If it didn’t she said she would break it. I could tell she didn’t want to but she fished around in her bag for the tool when suddenly I heard a little “pop” and my water broke. It was my own little bit of labor magic. For a while, I tried the birthing stool but I didn’t care for that I looked at L with tears welling up in my eyes and told her that I really had planned on having the baby in the water. She went to run more warm water. As we were walking towards the bathroom, M told me what a great job I was doing and I was surprised by this, I didn’t find walking uncomfortable at all. I think perhaps that my endorphins had kicked in at this point because the intensity of the contraction pains seemed to subside. Once I was settled in to the tub I tried to push with the next contraction but I didn’t want to do that again. M looked at me and said, “Then don’t…why don’t you just relax for awhile.” So I sat there in the tub babbling some sort of nonsense at everyone. I never have remembered much about what I said but I am sure it was a constant stream of chatter. Those who know me would tell you that is fairly typical of me. I remember being amazed that my body was just pushing the baby down all on its own. I think I said something to that effect. Eventually the moment came when I actually felt an overwhelming urge to push and with just a few short pushes and some seriously animalistic grunting sounds, I delivered Brower’s head into my hands. M stood back and watched. I was mildly panicked and I remember telling her, I don’t know what to do. She came over for just a moment and held Brower’s head while I delivered the shoulders and then I grabbed his little shoulders and pulled him out of the water to my stomach. The first thing I noticed about him was how broad his shoulders were and how he seemed more solid than my other babies. It wasn’t until later when M was weighing him in my room that we discovered he was 10 pounds. I sat in the bath tub for awhile nursing my baby and whispering “hellos” and “I love you”. I never even looked to see if he was a boy or a girl. I knew he was Brower because of a dream I had the night Steve and I watched the Northern Lights before bed, a rare occurrence here in Iowa. I probably should have been kind enough to let my husband know. A few moments had passed before he finally figured out that he had his second son. M brought me the fruit and pooh butter she had been trying to feed me for awhile and I gobbled it. Eventually L came over and helped me while I cut the cord and then I moved to the toilet where I delivered my placenta into a bowl. We all examined it closely looking to make sure it was complete. I cleaned myself up a little and we went to my room. Steve and I cuddled the baby for a bit and then I felt an overwhelming urge to have all of my family back so he went to get Trapolin from Clay’s and the girls from school. I was vaguely aware of L and M moving around in the other rooms, putting things back in order. When the rest of the family returned they left promising to return the next day.