I woke up in tremendous discomfort at 4:45 a.m. by the bedroom clock, on Monday, September 5th (Labor Day!). I immediately connected the intense pressure I was feeling with the undercooked chicken wings I had eaten several hours earlier. It looked like I was going to have my first experience with food poisoning-type sickness; or so I thought!

I noticed I was having contractions, but that was nothing new. I had stopped being excited about contractions after weeks of expecting a preterm baby! They did feel quite intense, but I had experienced a similar feeling many times before when I had contractions and also had to go to the bathroom. The pressure always went away after I used the toilet. So I went to the bathroom.

No relief seemed in sight. I kept having to change positions – standing up, sitting back down. At one point I got up and walked around the baby's room, thinking how unfair it was to have contractions and diarrhea at the same time. If only one or the other would go away, I could cope with it just fine! I stopped myself from feeling too much self-pity by reminding myself that real labor would be harder than this, so I had just better deal with the pain.

I went back to the bathroom, resuming my little stand-up-sit-down dance. I felt kind of clammy and shaky, and it popped into my head that these were symptoms of transition, but I quickly dismissed that thought. Of course I couldn't be in transition! I wasn't even in labor.

I soon saw blood on my toilet paper. Bright red blood, with some dark clots. I then noticed I had also dripped some blood on the floor. This was terrifying. "Placenta previa" and "placental abruption" flashed through my mind. I tried not to panic. I wiped the blood off the floor, got a maxi pad on and went to wake Richard.

It was about 5 a.m. now. I knew it would be hard to wake Richard up. I turned on the light and said loudly, "Richard, I'm bleeding bright red blood and I don't think it's normal!" He half-opened his eyes and said, "Oh, that's good," and rolled over. "NO! It's not good!" I said. "We have to call the midwife!" He woke up fully at this point, and went downstairs to get the cordless phone, which had the midwives' numbers stored in it.

I followed him down the stairs, telling him that I was feeling sick on the toilet and then noticed blood. He found the phone, and I told him to call Joanna, because although Kerstin was closer, I didn't think she was home from her trip yet. Then I felt an increase of pressure, and I gasped/groaned, "I have to go back to the toilet." Richard followed me back upstairs, sleepily trying to figure out how to call Joanna.

He talked to her in the bathroom doorway while I was on the toilet moaning and panting. He told her I was bleeding, and she asked if I was having contractions. "Are you having contractions?" Richard asked me. "Yes!," I said, right in the middle of one. Next he asked if I was bleeding very much. "No, not a lot," I said, having noticed there wasn't any blood in my maxi pad.

Richard was soon off the phone, and he relayed Joanna's reassuring words to me. She had said that the bleeding was probably because my cervix was dilated so much already. There was no need to worry, unless I started bleeding more heavily. This made me feel better, although I was listening to Richard speak through a fog of very uncomfortable sensations, which took up most of my consciousness.

I got him to rub my lower back for me while I was still on the toilet. It felt very good. I had been trying to rub my back myself, but he did a much better job! I hazily thought of calling my family, who were to be around for my labor, but thought that if this was really early labor, I would like to enjoy it with my husband before calling them. (I would enjoy it after I got rid of my diarrhea, of course, which was strangely not progressing at all!) Besides, my mom and dad had already come for two false alarms, once even staying the night. This thought was not consciously in my head at this point, but I'm sure it's a big part of why I did not really believe I was in labor.

Richard went back to bed after rubbing my back, which kind of irritated me, but I didn't say anything. Really, I chided myself, why did I want my husband to be with me when I was just having some bad diarrhea? Good question!

Finally, finally, I was going to feel some relief. I could feel the pressure building, and I pushed, trying to have a bowel movement. Instead, I felt a gush of something warm coming out of my vagina. My first thought was that I had felt a gush of blood. "My placenta has separated; my baby is going to die," I thought – not in words, but just in a brief mental picture.

Scared, I looked into the toilet, to find everything was clear. It took me a couple seconds to process the fact that it was all OK, my water had broken – I was in labor! I'm not sure how Richard knew something had happened. Perhaps I gasped, but the bedroom door was shut. Anyway, he called to me, "Are you OK?" "My water broke!" I called back excitedly.

Now he was truly awake. He got out of bed again and called Joanna back. She asked what color the waters were, and I told Richard confidently that they were clear. I was excited. I was really in labor! Maybe I wasn't going to have diarrhea after all. I'm not sure what time it was; I'm guessing it was about 5:30.

Richard got the phone and told me Joanna said he should get me something to eat or drink. She also said Kerstin was back and she would come to check on me a little later. I told Richard I didn't want anything to eat or drink! I needed him to rub my back some more. I also asked him to call my family. "Hi," he said, "do you want to come over? The midwife is coming over." As I recall, that was about the extent of the conversation. "They're all coming over," Richard told me.

The contractions after my water broke were more intense and more on top of each other. (I remember saying, "bloody hell" soon into these contractions. That was the worst thing I said during labor.) I didn't really feel much relief between the contractions before, but now it was worse. The pressure was really constant. Richard was brushing his teeth and getting dressed in between rubbing my back. I felt really hot, and I was shaking a little bit.

"I must be dilating," I thought. I pulled my nightshirt over my head and threw it on the bathroom floor. I was still on the toilet. I tried standing up, but everything felt so much more intense when I did, so I stayed where it felt best. At one point I said to Richard, "This had better not be early labor!" I was finding it hard to cope and couldn't bear the thought of hours of this, and it getting even worse! Oh my.

But it did get worse. I think it was only one contraction's worth, but it was enough to make me feel, in retrospect, that I really did experience labor. Richard was in the bedroom, and I called him over. My hands were kind of clawing at him as he stood there, rubbing my back but unable to help me through this one. I never expected myself to yell during labor, but that's exactly what I found myself doing. There was no way I couldn't! I felt my voice climbing higher into a scream, but I knew that was the wrong type of sound, so I consciously brought my pitch down lower, until I was actually roaring – a sound I probably had never ever made until that moment.

I don't know if I closed my eyes, but I have no visual memory from that contraction except a kind of blinding orange light, like a fire. I think my vision actually blanked out during the contraction.

Whew! That one was incredibly intense. I felt mildly foolish for yelling like that, because I had pictured myself dealing with contractions silently, inside myself, like my mother. Oh well. You do what you have to do.

Richard went back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. And I stayed where I never thought I would be during labor: on the toilet. I realized on a deeper level what I had already known and been telling myself for months – labor never goes as you had imagined!

I believe Richard was putting on his socks at the moment that I felt a new, breathtaking sensation. Although I had never felt anything like it before, and hadn't been doing too well today at recognizing things for what they really were, I instantly knew what I was feeling. My body was starting to push the baby down. A few thoughts flashed through my mind in just an instant, the foremost being: "The midwives aren't going to make it," and "I have to get off the toilet!"

I looked into the bedroom at Richard, and called out shakily, "Richard, I'm pushing!" I was a little distressed, but I am proud of myself and of Richard that we did not panic. "Do you want me to call the midwife again?" he asked me. "No!" I said.

In all the stories I had read of precipitate, unassisted births, the father was on the phone with the midwife or the doctor or the paramedics while the mother was giving birth. To me there always seemed to be something lacking, something unsatisfactory in these experiences, and I didn't want ours to be the same type of experience. I am so grateful that Richard did not feel the need to be talking to the midwife for his own reassurance. He was totally there for me, doing what I wanted him to do. He could not have done a better job of helping me through such an overwhelming labor.

"Lay out one of those big pads on the floor at the foot of the bed," I instructed him. I told him where to find them, and directed him where to put it: "Farther. Farther. Farther. That's good." What a time for me to be picky! But I was. Next, "Come help me off the toilet," I ordered him. He helped me make it from the toilet to the foot of the bed, which was where I had been envisioning myself giving birth. I also got myself set up in the position I had been envisioning, which was squatting in front of the bed, supporting myself with my elbows on the bed.

I stayed there for a few moments, dripping blood and waiting for the next pushing urge. I noticed that I was dripping blood right near the edge of the pad, and asked Richard to get another one to lay down so I wouldn't stain the carpet. When the next push came, I quickly realized that the squatting position was not going to work for me. I dropped to the floor and turned in a few circles on my hands and knees, like an animal trying to find the right position to lie down or something. I knew that I had to be in a good position for Richard to catch the baby, so I ended up with my back to him, hanging onto the bed with my hands.

Sometime after I got to the foot of the bed, Richard called my parents again. "Are you coming?" he asked. They were just heading out the door right then. Richard called Kerstin to tell her she'd better hurry, but there was no answer so we guessed she was on her way. Then Richard said he wanted to go unlock the door and turn on the lights for the midwife and for my family. "Don't leave me," I wailed. He looked a little uncertain, and I realized I was feeling sorry for myself again. Of course he needed to unlock the door, and I also wanted the lights set up the way I had planned, so it wasn't too bright for our little baby. I quickly amended my words. "No, go unlock the door," I told Richard. "And turn off the bedroom light, and turn on the lamp over there." He quickly fixed the lights and ran to unlock the door, then came back in time to see the baby's head beginning to crown.

The pushing feeling was amazing. This part was very much as I imagined; my body was doing all the work. I had no part in the actual pushing whatsoever. I just had to surrender to this incredible feeling. It was much better than the contractions before, because I actually got a little break in between each contraction. The diarrhea feeling was gone!

I had read that many women say pushing out a baby is just like having a bowel movement. I have to disagree. I admit, the whole labor was very much related in sensation to bowel movements, but the pushing felt more like the convulsion of throwing up than of going to the bathroom. Really, the feeling of my muscles pushing the baby down was unmistakably different from anything I have ever experienced. It was actually quite a rush! I almost enjoyed it. Almost. It was still quite painful, and too fast.

I'm not sure if there were four or five pushing contractions, but I'm pretty certain there were no more than five. I could feel everything swelling down between my legs, and when I looked, I could actually see myself bulging out. The pressure was very strong, but it was unmistakably from the birth canal and not my bum. Then I realized I was panting. I hadn't meant to, but it was instinctive.

I knew that women are told to pant when they are crowning to ease the pressure, so I thought, "Am I crowning?" I focused on the feelings down below, and felt a stretching and slightly burning sensation. So I knew I was crowning.

I reached down between my legs to see if I could feel the baby's head, something I really wanted to do during the pushing stage. But I just got guck all over my hand. I decided to forget it for now. Richard was behind me, lovingly touching me and assuring me, "I see the baby's head. Everything is OK. You're doing a great job. I'm going to catch our baby."

Afterwards, I thought I was on my hands and knees when the baby came out, but Richard showed me what position I was actually in – standing up, feet wide apart, bent over hanging onto the bed. Something else I had never imagined being part of my labor!

Bloop – the head was out, along with some spurts of amniotic fluid and blood, just like in the video we watched. I looked down between my legs and saw a little purplish head with lots of dark hair. I reached down and touched it, and it was soft and wet, like I was touching the brains.

It seemed to take forever for the next push to come. I briefly thought of trying to push myself, but instantly felt horrified by my own suggestion. I knew it was wrong to try and push. But the baby was so motionless, half in and half out of me – what if it was dead? "Are the eyes open? Is it breathing?" I asked Richard. The answer was no to both. "I'm sorry, I can't push yet," I told him.

Soon my body did push again, the last push. It was very painful. This time the colors I was seeing were red and purple, and they exploded. I knew that I was tearing as I felt the little body being hurled out of me, but I almost immediately forgot that I tore. I heard Richard say with awe, "We have a son!" and I turned around to see my husband holding a pink little baby who was unmistakably a boy!

He started to cry pretty much right away, a raspy sort of unhappy cry, like we had just woken him up from a nice nap. The raspiness made me think he had mucous, so I asked Richard to turn him over to see if he spit some out, but he didn't.

"Do you want to hold your son?" Richard asked, his voice full of emotion. Of course I did. I stepped over the umbilical cord and sat down on the floor, holding him. "Hello, baby," I said. "Hello, Isaiah." I felt bad that he was crying, and his eyes were still shut tight. I asked Richard to adjust the lighting again, but he didn't open his eyes until he was calmed down a bit. We wrapped him in the soft yellow towel we had ready for him.

"Can I get the camera?" Richard asked. I said yes, and he ran and got the camera and took several pictures of Isaiah's first minutes of life. Richard also called Joanna again and told her we had a son! She said we didn't need to do much of anything until Kerstin arrived, and she told him to tell me that if I felt cramps, to give a little push to push the placenta out. I, of course, was much more concerned with my baby than the placenta! After a few minutes, he stopped crying and squinted his eyes open a little. What beautiful dark eyes!

Richard heard a vehicle pull up and ran outside to meet my family. Through the window, I heard my mom's voice saying, "Yeah, right!" in a teasing tone of voice. I smiled to myself as I realized they thought Richard was joking, as he has a habit of doing.

Soon they were all in the bedroom, seeing me naked, cross-legged on the floor holding a tiny little boy. My dad did some reflexology to help the placenta out, and it slid right out. I didn't have to push once through my entire labor!

Kerstin arrived just as the placenta was coming out. She seemed kind of amused at the scene before her – the last thing she had heard was that my water broke, so she must have been expecting me to be in early labor.

She helped Richard cut the cord, weighed Isaiah and checked his heartbeat and temperature. Then Richard called his parents and told them to come over to meet our son. They arrived very soon after. Kerstin got Richard to warm towels in the dryer and wrap Isaiah in them to get his temperature up. She also stitched me up, which was worse than the labor, as far as I'm concerned!

Kerstin was very sweet and sympathetic while she was stitching me, though. She kept apologizing and saying, "I know it hurts." My mom held my hand for moral support. I decided to use visualization, which I had never had a chance to do during my labor! I tried to use floating in water – I kept saying to myself, "Me and my baby, floating, floating in the water," but it was extremely hard to focus on that picture.

Eventually it was over. I had torn in the birth canal, but the outer skin didn't tear, which Kerstin said was very impressive considering how fast he came out.

We didn't look at the time at the exact moment Isaiah was born, but we guess he was born at about 6:05 a.m., just an hour and twenty minutes after I woke up, and after about 15 minutes of pushing! He weighed 6 pounds, 10 ounces and was 19 1/2 inches long.

I wouldn't choose such a short labor again, because it was very overwhelming, and it is taking me a while to recover. At the same time, Isaiah's birth was a wonderful experience, shared between just the three of us, which is a very special thing. And then he got to meet the rest of our families right away. I'm sure the birth was overwhelming for our little guy, but all in all, I don't think it was a bad way to come into the world!