Jasper's Birth Story

Yea! Finally! I've had this goal for 8 full weeks and I finally finished writing Jasper's birth story! Hooray!!

For those of you who'll take the time to read this, please keep in mind that this is a birth story and for my own personal-history purposes, I have attempted to be as accurate, detailed, and honest in my account as possible. Some, especially those that have not given birth yet, may be sensitive to some of the details I've included. I found reading these VERY helpful when I was facing my first birth, so my sharing this is for educational purposes as much as anything. But enough with the disclaimers! I hope you'll enjoy the happy recounting of Jasper's arrival!

Jasper Dylan Moffat’s Birth Story

On Tuesday, June 21, 2011, after having gotten together with friends the night before to watch our weekly Bachelorette, I woke up at 6:30 AM with wet pajama bottoms. I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant. I went to the restroom and informed Jacob who was getting ready for work: "Honey, my pants are wet"-- just like that. I thought that this could mean my water had broken, but I wasn't soaked, just wet enough to be confused. I didn't feel a "gush," and there wasn't a “constant trickle” either, which were the only two ways I’d heard breaking water described.

I looked up “how to tell if your water has broken” on Google to see if I could find out any more. The website I found suggested you lie down and wait for half an hour to see if there’s more leaking and if so, your water has probably broken. But it also said that usually the water breaks in the middle or very end of labor and only about 13% experience their water breaking before the onset of labor. Well, I changed my pants and nothing happened for an hour and a half. Then at 8 AM, my pants got wet again. Okay, I was awake for that one! That was not something I could control—that was a genuine leak! By this time, I called my sister. (I always called to update her of any progress or news with my pregnancy. I had called her on Friday, June 17th to tell her that the new midwife I saw that day, Elizabeth Keit, determined I was 1 cm dilated and 50% effaced. I had also texted her on Sunday, June 19th, Father’s Day, to tell her that I passed my mucous plug, which is just like it sounds.) So, I called to update her on my “wet pants” situation and asked for her insight. She was excited. I was experiencing very mild cramping that morning as well, identical cramping to what I experience monthly with my period, just more frequent. Turns out they were contractions but I NEVER would have thought so had I not had the additional tip off that my water might’ve broken. I was calling my contractions “cramps” basically until we were admitted to the hospital.

At 8:30 AM, I wet my third pair of pants. I texted Rachel, and I called my mom to update her on what “might” be progress. She was really excited, too. At this point, everyone was pretty convinced this was “it” except me. I didn’t want to count my chickens too early, AND these “cramps” did not feel like contractions to me, they just felt like cramps.

I continued to go about my morning. Since waking, I watched some House Hunters and A Baby Story. I showered, ate breakfast, did my hair and make-up. Then at 9:30, I mustered up the courage to call Labor and Delivery. I was scared because if indeed my water had broken, I knew I was on the clock and the hospital staff would probably want me to deliver within 24 hours. At this point, I didn’t recognize any other signs of labor, so I was nervous I’d have to be induced if other stuff didn’t start happening. I spoke with a nurse and told her I was 39 weeks and I’d wet three pairs of pants that morning and sure enough, she told me I should come in. I started crying and told her my concerns. She said, “Well, I can’t make you come in.” For some reason, that made me feel better, knowing it was still a choice of mine. I told her I’d start getting ready.


I called Jacob and told him to come home as soon as he was able, that I thought we should head to the hospital. I packed up the remainder of what we’d need for the hospital, got the car seat in the car (not installed yet, but in the car,) and packed some snacks and sandwiches for Jacob and me (for the long haul, just in case.) I noticed on my trips to and from the car what a gorgeous day it was. The second I stepped outside I thought, “Oh, I hope he comes today, this is such a beautiful day. This would be an awesome day to be born.”

When Jacob came home, we were able to pretty much turn around and head out. We were driving in the middle of the day, so there was no traffic. Amazingly, we had a clear shot to the hospital, something else that came as a surprise to me that day.


We checked in at 12:05 PM. Jacob took a little video before we left and in the car on the way to the hospital, just in case this was the real thing. Jacob was more out of sorts than I was. He had put my info up on the whiteboard, and under patient’s name he put “Moffat.” I was like, “I think they mean first name, honey. I don’t want them calling me Moffat all day.” He was, however, really great to hang my bold-printed birth plan in plain sight and notify the changing staff throughout the day that our goal was a natural birth. We waited in the early labor room for them to examine me and see if I could officially be admitted. In the meantime I kept leaking and there was blood leaking, too. The nurse said that was a good sign, that it was a sign of dilation. I think the staff was pretty confident that I wasn’t going to be leaving, but I was anxious to get the official word. I had my whole family hanging on a breath waiting for the news, including my sister who was waiting to book a flight out to meet us to try and be there for the birth. To pass the time, Jake and I played Ticket to Ride on the iPad, watched a little tv, Let’s Make a Deal hosted by Wayne Brady. I wasn’t that interested in watching television, but there was a Pampers commercial I had seen before several times that I loved. It had the sweetest music and all these newborn babies and it came on for the short time the tv was on and it made me cry. It was finally my time. I was having a baby OF MY OWN! I was so happy and feeling just surreal.


We were FINALLY checked in at 2:30 PM, after 2 and a half hours of waiting Pat Donnelly, a CNM I knew and loved from a previous visit, determined I was dilated 4 cm. The staff all seemed surprised and happy with this news because it meant that I was in active labor and they could move me to the active labor room, where Jasper would be born.

Up until this time I was able to cope with the labor pains by moving around, swaying back and forth. I felt like movement distracted me from pain or discomfort. Our first nurse’s assistant was awesome, we loved her. By the way I was moving during contractions she said, “ I think you’re gonna be a ball girl.” And sure enough, she arranged to have a birthing ball there in the room waiting for us when we got there. We moved rooms, and by this point I was still fairly comfortable. I was totally fine in-between contractions, but they were getting increasingly strong. Jacob and I started playing Phase 10. When I had a contraction I would roll back on the ball, which provided counter-pressure and put my head down. Then when the contraction was over, I’d roll right back and continue playing. I had prepped Jake with coping strategies I had read that might help: words of encouragement, massaging my back, reading to me, and then when I was actually in labor, I didn’t want any of it. No stimulation aside from the contraction. I didn’t want him to touch me or talk to me at all, not because I didn’t want him there, but because it was all I could do to process the pain. Any other stimulus made it harder to cope. I know it was hard for him to see me in pain and a caring person's instinct in that situation is to reach out and comfort. If he forgot and touched me or talked to me, I would shush him or swat away his hand impatiently. I told him to comfort me in-between contractions with those measures, and I really appreciated it then, but only in-between.


We were only able to play about 3 phases or so before it got too difficult for me to focus. I wasn’t interested in playing games anymore at that point. A number of the staff had mentioned the shower as a good pain-coping tool and I finally took them up on it. By this point the contractions were getting pretty intense. The shower was a nice change, but I still wanted Jake’s company. I would shut the door during contractions and open it in-between and talk to him. The only thing I would have added to my room that wasn’t available was a jetted birthing tub. The water was a nice distraction from the pain, but it would have been better to wade in it than having it rain down on me. Where the pain was most intense, the water wasn’t reaching.

I got out of the shower after maybe 20 minutes or so and labored on the toilet for the next phase. I think it was somewhere between 4-5 PM. The contractions were really intense by this point, very, very painful and I was starting to feel physically very tired. I was afraid I was losing stamina, and even if I could handle the pain, I didn’t feel by the end I would have the strength to deliver a baby. I started telling Jacob, “I’m reaching my limit, I would like some relief.” I asked Jake to have the staff check me to see how far dilated I was. I was hoping for an 8. She checked: I was at a 6. When I expressed my frustration, she said, “Well, 6-7.” I was not even at the point of transition, which was typically the most painful part. I told the staff I was feeling tired, they said that was normal, which was comforting to me. I got to the point I really wanted an epidural. I told Jacob I felt really proud of myself for making it so far, I felt my offering was enough, and now I wanted some relief. I still had 3-4 centimeters to go. I had only progressed 2 cm since being admitted and to go through twice what I already had to see this thing through seemed unbearable. Jake said, “Let’s give it 30 more minutes,” and I gave him what I’m sure was a look of death and said, “One more contraction.” Then I just kept going through one more contraction, one more contraction. When I had one that was really, really painful and wanted the medicine, the next one or few usually eased up a bit. I was really lucky to have very gradual increase in the pain of my contractions. By the time I mentioned the word “epidural” three times, Jacob went and talked to the new CNM who’d been assigned to me, Elizabeth Keit, (who was luckily a kind, familiar face as I’d met her a few days before when my regular midwife had to cancel all her appointments that day.) I was still laboring on the toilet. She came in and I told her I wanted relief and she said calmly, “Why don’t we wait and see a little bit longer, you’re progressing really well.” I remember thinking, “Is she not hearing me?!” It was then she told me the first of many profound things that day, she said, “This is the point where most people self-doubt.” This statement brought to me a surprising degree of comfort. “Really? I was at that point? Other people feel this way here, too, even though I was only at a 6?” Jacob told me later that I would only ask for pain relief during a contraction and he was waiting for me to ask for it in-between contractions, when I was more myself, before taking the request seriously. I remember thinking a number of things at this point: 1. that I really had reached my pain threshold and if it got worse I mentally could not cope with it anymore, 2. that once you were getting nauseated and feeling like you were going to throw up you were almost done, which I was (my mom had told me this that morning), 3. that once you think you can’t take it anymore, it gets better, 4. that I would have to wait for the epidural for up to 45 minutes and it would take another 15 or so to feel any relief, 5. that an epidural was not a guaranteed relief from the pain, sometimes they don’t take, and it would also possibly slow things down and I was progressing really well, I knew the labor was going well even though I was in so much pain, 6. that I would have to hold still for them to administer the epidural and my only comfort during contractions was the freedom to move. 7. that once they administered the epidural there was no more freedom to move, no more trips to the bathroom (I must’ve peed 50 times that day), no more getting out of bed for anything, even in the event the epidural didn’t take--I’d be stuck to the bed with a catheter unable to get out and seek another measure of comfort. The biggest thing for me at this point was that I was already in so much pain, waiting an hour or even 15 minutes for relief from the epidural was already too late for me. The pain was already too much. I stopped seeking relief at that point, I was mentally checking out.

(Laboring on the porcelain throne, wearing the slipper socks my sister had given me. Such a great gift. Wore them all day long.)

The memories get much more sparse from here on out for the remainder of my phase 1 labor. I remember Jacob suggesting I go back on the birthing ball because I loved the relief it provided earlier. I remember thinking it sounded nice but that there was no way I could stand and walk to it. He helped me and I was able to make it back out to the room where it was. I sat on that ball and held him during contractions and he would rub my back in-between contractions. Jacob said later that it was as if I fell asleep in-between contractions, which is just how I felt. I remember waking up, as it were, for contractions, then relaxing in between. That’s what the staff told me to do, to totally relax in between and that’s exactly what I did. It’s like my body knew I had to put every last drop of my energy into those contractions. I remember I did it, but I don’t remember much of what it felt like at that point or what I was thinking, all I can say is that my body did the work. My mind was checked out, but my body kept going. There was no other option anyway. I was having this baby.

I remember asking them to check me again and I was at an 8. Wow! I was excited because I knew I’d reached transition, which was the most painful part of labor and I was there, I was doing it, I was surviving. I remember at one point during this telling the staff I had to make a bowel movement and they said that was the baby and I didn’t believe them. Then sure enough, the feeling would subside when the contraction ended. I remember it getting to a point where I felt like I had to pee, poop, and vomit with each contraction. I continued laboring on the birthing ball with Jacob’s aid until I asked them to check me again. I was at a 10 and ready to push. I could not believe it. I just could not believe I’d made it all the way and that I was going to be having my baby soon! They asked me to get on the table, and I was happy to lay down because the downward pressure was so intense standing and it was too exhausting to bear weight. Laying down allowed me to rest completely as my body needed so that I could put all my energy into pushing.

It was about 7:50 PM at this point. I was really excited we were at the pushing stage. Very happy. I knew for some people pushing only took a few minutes. This could all be over soon.

I managed my pushing in much the same way as the end of my labor: pushing super hard with each contraction and then resting completely, nearly sleeping in-between, only with each push, I wailed. It was this loud, low, primal grunt-bellow I had never made before and did not know I was capable of making. The staff encouraged me to try to spare my voice, but I honestly couldn’t help it. It came with the pushing. I remember telling them, “If I lose my voice and gain a baby, I’m in the black.” (And I was VERY hoarse for a few days after that. I’m a singer, I knew I was thrashing my voice, but like I say, for a good portion of the pushing, I could not control it.)

I pushed about three times with each contraction. The staff let me manage my own pushing, they were so calm and peaceful, and totally silent in-between so I could rest. They were perfectly supportive, encouraging me during the pushing when I needed it and totally hands-off in-between when I didn’t. They complimented me on my breathing, which was much like my breathing during really intense workouts, big exhales, breathing in through my nose, etc. I remember telling them that I felt like I was out of my body, and they said that was common. I was very mentally alert at this point, I knew what was happening but I couldn’t believe it. It felt so surreal. How do you wrap your head around the fact that you’re having a baby? Especially when you’ve never done it before.

I felt like I was pushing forever with no sensation it was doing anything to progress the birth. They all said I was doing a good job, but I couldn’t tell it was making a difference. I was so tired, I was in so much pain. I remember trying to describe the pain, that it felt like there was a 500-pound piece of machinery bearing down on my entire pelvis. That was the kind of pressure it was. Just enormous. I remember telling the staff at one point, “I don’t know if you guys believe in prayer, but I could really use some right now.”

I kept pushing and I remember looking at the clock at 8:17 PM. They told me when I was admitted: “don’t look at the clock, just focus on one contraction at a time,” which was great advice, but by this point, I had no idea where I was in the pushing. Was I getting anywhere? I asked them, “Will my baby be born by 9:00?” knowing they couldn’t make any guarantees about anything. They said, “Yes.” Then I asked them, “How about 8:30?” and they said, “If you keep pushing like this, he might be.” From there on out I was pumped. Thirteen more minutes of this pain—I could do it. I could handle that. It was right at the end here, when he started crowning that the pain was the greatest. Up until that point I had had relief in-between each contraction, but since his head was coming out, there was no relief and I couldn’t push again until the next contraction. I was in so much pain, I cried out this deep, gutteral cry and I heard my midwife say calmly, “Why don’t you turn your cry into a push?” I don’t know where I drew the strength from, from deep in the earth, from the heavens above, I felt like I was drawing from every source of power I knew in the universe to help me, but I pushed. I pushed as if my life depended on it, and I was surprised, so surprised even in that moment that I found, from somewhere, the reserves to push. It was amazing. Her wise words to “turn your cry into a push” continues to be a sort of mantra for me now.

I remember the nurse asking me if I wanted to do skin-to-skin and I said yes, so she prepped my gown so they could put him right up on my chest. This excited me, too, that we were to that point. I kept pushing and the next thing I remember was my midwife telling me that the baby’s head was born, and then she asked if I wanted to touch my baby’s head. By that point he was halfway out and I could see him. I yelled, “Oh my gosh!” and reached for him, not realizing I had to still push the rest of him out. I paused mid-reach, pushed again, and grabbed my baby. That was it. 8:34 PM. He was out and they helped him onto me and I was holding my baby. I couldn’t believe it. I just said that over and over, probably 10 or 20 times, as I was looking at and holding my baby: “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it.”


And I couldn’t believe it. Not only did I have a baby, I had given birth! And I gave birth without medication! I was overwhelmed with this all-consuming joy and pride, not only in this wonderful, beautiful, healthy baby boy in my arms, but for doing something I really didn’t think I had the strength to do. The truth is, no one has the strength to do it. I felt a power beyond myself aiding me in my giving birth and I believe that is the only way it was possible. In that moment, I was extremely grateful I was able to experience that birth to its full measure. I had almost given up on that goal, but holding him afterward, I was incredibly grateful I didn’t, that I had the support there in Jacob and the staff to see it through, because I would have missed how triumphant it felt to cross the finish line. As great as that pain and suffering was, SO MUCH GREATER was my joy in overcoming it, in giving my everything for that baby. That is, of course, as every mother knows, the impression that is lasting in all of this. As much as I SWORE I would NOT forget that pain, that all-consuming, out of this world pain, I did. Didn’t even take me 48 hours. But I have not, and will not ever forget, that incredible joy.






My sister showed up 10 minutes after the birth. She took the earliest flight into Burbank and that was the soonest she could get there. And it ended up perfectly. She was able to help me with my first feeding, as the staff there allows one hour of uninterrupted, private family time after the birth of a healthy baby. It was just the four of us: me, Jacob, my sister, and this beautiful, perfect little baby boy. He cried for just a little bit when he came out, peed on me about 2 minutes after he was born, (I was delighted by this, actually—he was healthy!), and then just lay peacefully on my chest like a little angel.


Jacob was amazing through all of this. He did not leave my side, except, as he reminded me as I was writing this, early on when I told him to find me some chapstick. He was there through every contraction. He gave me water during the pushing stage and kissed me and whispered in my ear what a great job I was doing. He was literally my strength when I had no more. And even though I had told him I didn’t want cameras capturing the birth, he knew better and we have almost the entire pushing stage recorded from beginning to end, at two different angles on our phones thanks to his awesome skills. It is PRECIOUS, precious footage to me. He captured us meeting our son for the first time! And we can watch it over and over! It’s awesome! And he still managed to be present during all of it. That was the biggest thing to me, his presence. His just being there was the best support of all.


I was on such a high all that night, I could hardly sleep. I remember hearing the cries of many other little babies all night long (they were especially full in the labor and delivery and post-partum ward that day, I hypothesize, because it was the summer solstice,) and thinking to myself, that is the sound of a happy ending.

June 22, Jasper: one day old.

June 23, just before leaving the hospital.

And though it hasn’t all been a fairy tale since then in terms of new parenthood, as those closest to me will attest, Jasper’s birth story is certainly a happy one, with the very happiest of endings. Or should I say, beginnings!