Ronan Michael Flood’s Birth Story
Our son, Ronan Michael Flood, was born May 8, 2022 at 2:31 am — the absolute best Mother’s Day gift that we could ever have asked for. This punctual guy made his arrival on his due date, but did so on his terms, flying into the world with a whirlwind precipitous labour, caught by his amazing dad on the floor of the Airbnb in Whitehorse! There are so many details of his birth that we don’t want to forget, so I’m writing them all here both for posterity and because, when I was pregnant (and still now), I couldn’t get enough of other people’s birth stories. I hope that by sharing my experience in detail, it may help other expectant birthing persons out there. If birthing prep has taught me anything, it’s that there is no such thing as TMI, so I’m including everything — the good, the bad, the gross, and the ugly — in case it is helpful for others.
Over the course of my pregnancy and throughout all of our preparation for birth, Jonathan and I were told that, while it is great to prepare for the big day, you can never really plan for it. This was probably the best piece of advice that we received, because, boy, was it true! Ronan’s birth was nothing like we expected; yet it was beautiful, empowering, and positive in a way that I could never have imagined.
Before getting to the start of labour, I should explain the unique situations of birthing families in our small Alaskan town. In a town of no more than 1000 residents, Skagway, Alaska has a medical clinic but no hospital or physician. Since it doesn’t have the resources to accommodate safe childbirth, expectant parents cannot deliver in town and must make alternative arrangements for birth. Most travel to Juneau to deliver, a six-hour ferry ride or 45-minute seaplane flight away, and the norm is to stay in Juneau for four weeks prior to baby’s due date, in case the baby arrives early or any complications arise. But while Juneau is the closest American hospital, Whitehorse is the closest hospital, and because I am a Canadian citizen, the Whitehorse hospital and doctors allowed us to make the much more convenient two-hour drive to the Yukon for my prenatal care and delivery.
My labour started the night before our baby’s due date, around 8:30 pm on Saturday, May 7th. Of course, at this point, I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was labour. I should note that I had had a membrane sweep on Thursday, May 5th, and had started to lose parts of the mucous plug on Friday, May 6th, but aside from that, I had had no other signs of labour starting. I hadn’t even really felt Braxton Hicks contractions, and only knew that I was having them because, at my 38 week appointment, the doctor could feel my uterus tightening in places — a sign that Braxton Hicks were happening, but that I couldn’t feel them internally.
On Saturday evening, Jonathan and I had finished dinner and were on the couch watching tv (The Dropout, in case anyone else would like to see if Amanda Seyfried’s representation of Elizabeth Holmes puts them into labour as well!). I started feeling some slight cramps that would come and go periodically, but I honestly wasn’t sure if they were the early signs of labour or just gas or indigestion after eating. Out of curiosity, I eventually started glancing at my watch every time I felt something, to try to see if the cramps came in any type of pattern. After about 45 minutes, I noticed that they were roughly 5–7 minutes apart, but I still wasn’t uncomfortable enough to be convinced that I was experiencing early labour.
An hour went by, and I eventually lay down on the couch and put a pillow between my legs. 15 minutes later, somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00 pm, I felt a slight popping sensation in my lower abdomen and some liquid trickle out. I was pretty sure that my water hadn’t broken, since I’ve heard that when that happens, the gush of liquid is very substantial, but I also knew that this wasn’t a sensation I had ever felt before. I jumped up and told Jonathan that I needed to get to the bathroom — I wasn’t sure what was happening, but this could be the start of something. Sure enough, I lost even more of my mucous plug and had bloody show and discharge. Very quickly, my maternity tights felt too restrictive. Our Airbnb had an unusual layout, with the bedrooms and bathroom downstairs, so I told Jonathan that I was heading down to put on my sweatpants.
From that point on, things progressed really quickly. I never did get my sweatpants on because the cramps soon turned into no-doubt-about-it contractions and I asked Jonathan to start timing them with the contraction timing app that he had downloaded. In between the surges, I changed into the clothes that I had planned to wear to the hospital and made sure that our hospital bag was fully ready. But each time that a contraction hit, I couldn’t do much other than breath… The surges were growing in intensity and the timing app showed that each one lasted for 30-something seconds and were 3 minutes apart. 3 minutes apart?! Where were the 10 or 15 minute intervals that I had been told could last hours before labour really progressed?? By 11:30 pm, they had ramped up, lasting 50-something seconds every two and a half minutes. Somehow, my body didn’t give me time to follow the 5–1–1 or 4–1–1 rule (for those who are unfamiliar, this rule suggests that you only go to the hospital once you have had one-minute long contractions, 4 or 5 minutes apart for one hour) — it had jumped right into it and everything was full steam ahead.
At 11:30, I called the Whitehorse Regional Hospital’s maternity ward and explained. The nurse said that I was welcome to come in and get checked, but that the longer I laboured at home, the less likely medical interventions would be. Since I was hoping for an unmedicated birth with very few interventions, I knew that this was the truth, but the speed and intensity of the contractions worried me, even though I should still be in early stages… So Jonathan loaded the car, I continued to labour and think about whether or not it was time to go, and our dog, Myra, paced nervously, constantly checking on me and acting like my personal labour partner.
Just 20 minutes later, I decided we should go. Not only could I not talk through contractions, but I was vocalizing through them, and from all of my research, especially others’ birth stories, I knew that this was a good sign that things were moving along. I waited for a break between the surges and walked out to the car. As I sat there and waited for Jonathan, I started shivering and shaking in a way I have never experienced! My teeth were chattering uncontrollably and I just could not get warm. This whole reaction really surprised me, and continued through much of my labour — I was constantly chilled and my body would shake involuntarily. I had heard that women often shake in transition or after delivery, but experiencing this so early in labour was unnerving! I could breath through the pain of contractions, but shaking was a whole other thing.
Fortunately, we were a 3 minute drive from the hospital, so we quickly pulled into the parking lot. After checking in at the admissions desk in the emergency room, we were told to head upstairs to the maternity ward where the nurses were expecting us and had a room ready. One of the first things that our nurse said when we arrived was that everyone on duty had read our birth plan and were ready to support our wishes of an unmedicated birth with as few interventions as possible. I appreciated this so much! She then proceeded to fill out paperwork, ask me some questions, and check my vitals. During one contraction, she felt my stomach and said that it was very strong. She then went on to explain that she would like to do a cervical check to see where I’m at; hospital policy only allowed patients to be admitted if they were dilated 4 cm or more. Given the duration and frequency of my contractions, I was really hoping that I had already hit the 4 cm mark, even though I hadn’t been labouring for very long. But, once again, my body was doing the unexpected… The nurse told me that I was only 2 cm and that my cervix was still posterior, meaning that it had not yet moved forward into the anterior position for birth. She told us to go home and labour there for as long as possible. My husband asked how long we might expect to stay there, how we might know when to come back to the hospital, especially if the typical 5–1–1 (or, in my case, less than 3–1–1) rule was not applicable! The nurse said that, on average, a first-time mom dilates 1 cm every 2 hours, so we could probably expect to be at home for another 4 hours or so. In that time, if I was not coping well, contractions ramped up to one on top of the other, there was a lot of blood, or I was extremely uncomfortable, I should come back in. All of this was pretty discouraging, but, honestly, the most disappointing part to me in that moment was the idea of walking through the hospital and out to the freezing car again… Walking anywhere took me a long time as contractions were hitting me so frequently, and I was dreading the shivering that would inevitably start as soon as I walked outside. But there didn’t seem to be anything we could do, so back we went to the Airbnb…
I had always thought that l would probably enjoy labouring in the tub, and now, given the cold, it was all I could think about… I kept shaking until I was finally in the bath, Jonathan wrapped a big wet towel around my back, and poured cups of warm water over me as I moaned through contractions. I had four different birth playlists ready to go on Spotify, and Jonathan asked if I wanted to try one. I said sure, but after a few songs, I remember wondering what people meant when they told me that birth playlists were amazingly helpful in getting them through labour… I guess it was nice to have music, but I was pretty zoned out from it most of the time, just coping with the intense surges.
It was around this time that I made a mental note to try to remember the feeling of a contraction, so that I could describe it to other people. I had found it difficult to come across any kind of description when I was pregnant, so wanted to try my best to explain it to others after I had gone through labour myself. Jonathan even asked me what it felt like when I was in the bath (it doesn’t look pretty, that’s for sure!) and I thought about the best way to put the feeling into words. Yes, contractions are painful, but it’s a constricting pain, like your abdominal muscles are tightening around the middle of your body (which they are! So it physiologically all makes sense…) and you have no control over any of it. That’s one bizarre part of the whole experience: that your body is doing things — a lot of things! — but you have no control over any of them. One podcast episode that I had listened to during pregnancy described a contraction as a charley horse in your uterus — I have to say, pretty accurate!
Although time was certainly a vortex and I didn’t really have any idea how long I had been in the bath for, I continued in there for about an hour. By that time, contractions were getting even stronger and closer together. As each one came, I gripped the tub and had half my body draped over the side. Suddenly the tub felt too small for my writhing body, and I told Jonathan that I might be better moving to the bed. As he got up to prepare the bedroom, my next contraction was markedly more intense and a pushing sensation came over my body. I can’t really say that I felt the need to push, because it wasn’t like I had any control over it — those same abdominal muscles that had been squeezing me so intensely for the past few hours were suddenly pushing down and out. It felt, in all honesty, very much like I needed to poop. And I knew from my research, including the countless birth stories that I had watched, read, and listened to, that feeling the need to poop was a sign that baby was coming… But it was too early! We had only been back from the hospital for a little over an hour! In between breaths, I told Jonathan what I was feeling and he agreed that it was too early… So I waited for the next contraction. It was even more intense… I was back to full-body shakes, and was vocalizing in a totally new way. Maybe I really did need to poop?? I had read that some women experience an increase in bowel movements or even diarrhea during labour as the body gets ready to push, so I decided to climb out of the tub and onto the toilet. As I did, another powerful contraction hit me and I knew that this was not normal… So I reached down and there it was: “I can feel the head!!” As I tried to stand and take a step, Jonathan came running in: “No no no no no!” Another contraction hit me and I was on all fours in the hallway just outside the bathroom. Somehow, in the midst of all this, Jonathan ushered our very concerned dog, Myra, into the guest room and shut the door, then grabbed his phone and called 911. He put the dispatcher on speaker phone, threw his phone on the floor beside me, and yelled “My wife is having a baby in our Airbnb — right now!!” After that, I didn’t hear a thing, though I was vaguely aware that the dispatcher could hear me yelling like an animal, and that our neighbour on the other side of the duplex wall was probably wondering what kind of crime was taking place next door at 2:00 am!
In the whirlwind of it all, I was still thinking that maybe I could resist the powerful contractions, not push, and somehow make it to the car to get to the hospital… I even crossed my ankles! Like that would have done anything… I had felt a slight burning sensation when getting off the toilet, and I assume that it was the so-called “ring of fire,” but the next contraction was so powerful that I really didn’t feel it in the moment. That intense surge birthed the baby’s head, then his body slipped out after it, all in a matter of seconds. Fortunately, Jonathan was there to catch our baby! And the wildest part was that I had not pushed at all! In fact, I was actively trying not to push. But my body knew what it was doing and completely took over… To the point that I did not even know that the baby had come out. I remember looking behind me at one point and seeing a gush of blood and water, so I thought that the final contraction may have pushed out more of this fluid. But when Jonathan yelled, “We have a baby!,” I tried to turn to look behind me. “What?!? Are they ok??” Then I heard a little cry and Jonathan shouted, “It’s a boy!”
I really couldn’t believe it… For months, I had looked forward to this moment, when the hard work of labour is over and your baby is laid on your chest, but the reality of our birth was so completely different from anything I had ever imagined… There was shock, tears, confusion, and concern. But also elation and so, so much joy!! Somewhere amidst the chaos, I heard the 911 dispatcher say “Congratulations!” which struck me as a funny thing to remember to say in the middle of this emergency. But also, very kind! Thanks, 911 guy.
I have since read more on what is known as the “fetal ejection reflex” (FEP) or the “Ferguson reflex,” in which the body takes over and pushes out the baby with little or no active pushing on the mother’s part. This is most certainly what happened to me! Some research shows that FEP is more likely to occur when the birthing person is permitted to labour in a calm, peaceful environment, free of interventions, dangers, or stresses. If this is true and our accidental home birth is what contributed to this very fast, complication-free birth, well then, I guess I am grateful to the hospital policy and the nurse who turned us away at 2 cm!
Later, Jonathan described his perspective, and explained that the initial few moments were pretty terrifying… When he first came out, our son was a bluish-grey colour and the cord was wrapped around his neck; but Jonathan was calm and amazing, unravelling the cord and watching as our baby pinked up and let out his first few cries. It turns out, for a guy who is terrified of needles and avoids all medical activity whenever possible, my husband is fantastic in a medical emergency! He credits his calm action with his feeling of preparedness surrounding birth; together, we had gone through many of the birth lessons provided by my pelvic floor physiotherapist, Sophie Villeneuve of Beyond Birthing, had watched many of Bridget Teyler’s “Built to Birth” videos on YouTube, read parts of The Birth Partner book, and Jonathan had seen a few of the birth videos and vlogs that I consumed insatiably throughout my pregnancy. For him, understanding what was happening during labour and knowing that home births are possible, with partners catching their rag-doll-like babies on kitchen floors around the world, helped him to stay calm and confident. I truly could not have done this without him, and am so grateful and proud to have had the absolute best birth partner. But, no, he assures me that he will not be opening a midwifery practice anytime soon…
Of course, the birth of your baby isn’t the end of delivery, as the placenta needs to come out and the baby is still attached via the umbilical cord. Because I was on all fours, I somehow (I honestly don’t remember this part) flipped over onto my back and the dispatcher walked Jonathan through the positioning of the cord, laying our son on my chest but making sure that the cord went straight up along my torso. The dispatcher then asked, “Do you have a string or shoelace that you could use to clamp the cord?” As I lay on the floor with our baby, wiping his nose and mouth to clear them of fluids as the dispatcher instructed, Jonathan bolted upstairs and grabbed the first string he could find: the shoelace from my old pair of Nike Turbo running shoes. The dispatcher timed a 3 minute delay to ensure that we had a proper delayed cord clamping, before telling Jonathan to tie off the cord close to the baby’s bellybutton. As a runner, I love that a teal shoelace became an important part of our son’s unique birth story. I’m not saying that he HAS to be a runner, but I think the universe might just be pushing things that way…
As I lay on the ground, I felt incredibly cold again, so Jonathan brought me a big blanket and I hugged the baby to my chest. Soon, the paramedics showed up, bringing not just one, but two ambulances and pairs of first responders. The first to arrive on the scene had recently been trained as the head of a new neonatal paramedic program in the Yukon, so she jumped to work. We were so grateful for her calm, caring expertise throughout the whole thing! She focused on massaging my stomach to get the placenta out and monitored my bleeding while instructing the others to check the baby’s vitals, clear the way out, and figure out logistics.
As all of this was going on, Jonathan called my parents to fill them because we didn’t want them waking up in the middle of the night to frantic texts that said I was in labour — labour had come and gone and they already had a grandson! Fortunately, my dad answered and Jonathan quickly explained the whirlwind birth, told him that he had a grandson, and looked at me with a shrug. “His name…his name is…” In the flurry of activity, we hadn’t actually named our little one! We had chosen to keep the sex of our baby a surprise until the birth, so instead of settling on a particular name, we had come to Whitehorse with a few to choose from. “Ronan” was our top boy’s name, but we had agreed to wait to see if it suited our baby if we had a boy. “His name is…” I nodded, “Ronan Michael. It suits him.”
The paramedic was a bit concerned that I was still bleeding a little and that the placenta had not yet come out, so after a while (about 30 minutes…? It’s hard to know, time was still such a vortex), she suggested that we get to the hospital. Before moving us, she asked and I consented to a shot of oxytocin to help stop the bleeding, then Jonathan and the paramedic helped me to get underwear on, put on a sweater, and wrap me in a blanket. It was near impossible to get the stretcher down the stairs of the small hallway, so the paramedics asked if I could walk. Adrenaline is an amazing thing because, aside from the ongoing cold, I felt fine, and got up to climb the stairs to the front door. Before heading outside to the stretcher, I pulled on my Blundstone boots and prayed that our neighbours weren’t outside their houses watching… Decked out in the warmest North Face sweater that I own, a plaid blanket, Blundstone boots, and no pants, just the umbilical cord dangling out of granny panties, this was far from my finest moment… But it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Ronan and I were safe and healthy.
Jonathan followed behind me and climbed into the ambulance with Ronan in his arms. I was worried about Myra, our dog, but Jonathan assured me that he and another paramedic had checked on her in the guest room and left her food and water. We thought my parents might be able to go check on her in a few hours, but Jonathan ended up going back to the Airbnb later that day, both to see Myra and take her for a walk, and to clean up the mess that we had left in the hallway… That’s a whole story in and of itself, but two main points: 1) Jonathan is amazing and Oxyclean is magical (I’ll let you imagine his trip to Canadian Tire to buy the Oxyclean, where he stood in front of the carpet cleaner products, asking for guidance on which one would best remove blood from carpets…). After hours of scrubbing and cleaning, the carpet did not stain! 2) Yes, we told the Airbnb host and had her come check the area before we left. Turns out, she’s a nurse! She was really not concerned, thought the story was awesome, and, because everyone asks, no, she did not keep the cleaning deposit — Jonathan’s cleaning job was that thorough.
Inside the ambulance, the paramedics gave Ronan a shot of Vitamin K, as per Yukon recommendations, and me an IV of oxytocin to try to stop the bleeding even more. I tried to avoid extra medical interventions, but this made sense to me, especially because I was a bit nervous that the placenta had not yet come out, and was aware that excessive bleeding afterwards could be dangerous. Thankfully, we were on the way to the hospital, but I wanted to be smart about post-delivery complications.
Once we docked at the hospital and I was wheeled through the hallways into the maternity ward with Ronan on my chest, the nurses couldn’t believe it. Just two hours ago, they had witnessed a very pregnant, labouring Rachel and a wide-eyed, bag-carrying Jonathan walk in; now there was a parade of paramedics accompanying a slightly-stunned family of three! The attending doctor stood at the end of the maternity hallway and I was thrilled to see it was her — she had been one of our favourites in the maternity practice we attended. I told her I was sorry that we had done her work for her, and she laughed that she had been doing paperwork in her office and could have used a break! She did, however, deliver the placenta in a matter of minutes by pressing on my stomach, and then gave me stitches in two places where she said there were two small first-degree surface tears. She was surprised that I hadn’t torn more considering the speed of the delivery — so was I! Everything I had read advised mothers to slow their pushing in order to stretch and avoid tearing, but obviously, that had been impossible in my case… I thought that I would have major tears as a result, but was grateful to have such minor injuries and to have had an incredibly comfortable recovery.
The nurses who helped us and continued to check on us throughout our hospital stay were great. They helped me with breastfeeding, though this didn’t come super easily to us. Ronan has a shallow latch that made it excruciatingly painful, and we are still working on breastfeeding and latching. Fortunately, I could pump colostrum in the hospital and at home, and have continued to have a large milk supply. So, despite the struggles, Ronan is growing and thriving.
Finally left alone in our room at 4:00 am, Jonathan and I caught our breath for the first time in hours. We all cuddled skin to skin and stared at our baby with so much love and joy, shocked that he was here already. This was certainly not the way that we had envisioned our birth story, but everyone was happy and healthy, so what an amazing story it is! To be honest, there’s a part of me that’s not really surprised that it happened this way… We love that our life together has been one adventure after another, and this was certainly an adventure. I like to think that Ronan knew what an exciting life he had waiting for him earthside, that he simply could not wait to join us and to start years of family adventures together.
Thank you for choosing us, Ronan. You are so loved. ❤