Before we tried to conceive, my husband and I started researching pregnancy, labour and birth. We decided on a homebirth attended by a licensed midwife as the safest course. (My family has a history of very short labours). At my third visit, we found out that midwife's partner was moving and there would be a new partner. I considered a hospital birth in light of this but my doctor of all people talked us out of that by telling us how experienced Carol Anne (our midwife) was compared with the area's doctors.

The pregnancy was fun and rather easy. We were very natural about it all -- no tests (well, one iron count), no ultrasound or doppler. One week before my due date, Carol Anne called and told us that she had a funeral to attend for a close family member that following Saturday and that she'd be there if I needed her, but that she believed in the power of the mind and hoped the timing would allow her to go. My water broke at just after 1:30 a.m. that night. I wouldn't let my husband call her just yet because labour hadn't started. A few hours later he called and they told us to get some sleep and call when contractions were happening. I wrote in my journal about it, then at about 2:15 a.m. felt my first contraction. Five minutes later a second one. Now he could call -- this was no picnic!

While he was on the phone he had to leave twice to help me because they were now VERY strong and only about two minutes apart. I got into the tub and refused to get out or even let them warm the water. I would only let my husband touch me, and he had to press on my back constantly -- I had pain even between contractions. He couldn't move his arm freely for days after that. He also said that I got quieter for a while after the midwives arrived. I eventually let the pushy partner check me (I knew I hadn't hit transition, I didn't want that confirmed!). I was at 6.5 centimeters. Transition was actually easier for me as the contractions got shorter.

In less than five hours I was ready to push. I got out of the tub (five contractions to do so) and they grabbed a T-shirt to warm me up. The baby was at station -1 still, and posterior. Three hours later on a beautiful spring morning he was born as the birds outside our window sang their morning songs. Even as he was crowning he was kicking up a storm. He even popped out his hand to say hello. Carol Anne caught it, tucked it in and saved me lots of pain. I looked into those round saucer eyes at the little stranger I knew so well and thought, It can't get any better than this. We then noticed the T-shirt I was wearing was a triathlon shirt that said, Addicted to the rush, muscles screaming, heart about to jump out of your chest, lungs about to burst, primitive urges telling you to go to the limits! His daddy then whispered his name into his ear and then told us that he was Isaac. Isaac was 6 pounds 12 ounces and his mom was able to negotiate the stairs right away because she had no cuts or tears.

This was also the longest labour in my family's recent past at about eight hours in length.