You think you have a good birth story, right? We all think our own birth stories* are the most magical, fascinating stories ever told. Well, we’re here to tell you, Marco Rogers and Aniyia Williams have you beat. Birth plan out the window? Check. Atypical first birth? Check? Gripping plot twists? Check. And oh yea, the whole story is told by Marco in a series of 70+ tweets. Check ’em out, below:
She was born in our house. In our bed. Just me and @operaqueenie. With my father in law also there in the house.
No, this was NOT planned.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So let me start by saying Aniyia was pretty apprehensive about labor. Understandable of course. But she was looking for ways to prepare.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She was open to getting the drugs if things got too bad, but she really wanted to have a natural birth.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Kaiser is totally down with supporting that. And they recommend that you labor at home for most of the process.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Aniyia learned about hypnobirthing. Essentially meditation and relaxation techniques for managing pain and anxiety of natural birth.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
We asked her OB and she was on board. "Giving birth is the only thing you don't have to learn how to do. Your body already knows."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So early Saturday morning, my wife wakes up with contractions. This is about 5 days early. But that wasn't entirely unexpected.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
We had this app called Full Term. It lets you time your contractions and keeps track of their intensity and the time in between.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The app asks you to rate your contractions.
1 Very mild
2 Mild
3 Moderate
4 Strong
5 Very strong
This is relevant. So keep it in mind.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Let me fast forward a little, because she labored normally for about 9 hours. We went from very mild to mostly moderate contractions.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
All this time she's handling it like a champ. Breathing through it. Using her birthing ball. I'm massaging and encouraging.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I want to stress that this follows everything we've been told by Kaiser up to this point. We're not worried about heading to the hospital.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
They said first child labor could be up to 24 hours. We called them once and they said "you're doing great. Stay at home".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Then Strong contractions. Number 4 on the scale. I remember because it was the first time a sound involuntarily escaped my wife's mouth.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
It was scary. But @operaqueenie is a trooper. She just grunted and breathed and said. "I'm fine."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
We had a system. I was timing the contractions. So when one would start, she would say the keyword "banana".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The contractions were lasting about 1 to 1.5 minutes. And they were about 5-6 minutes apart.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Eventually the system broke down. "Look, unless I say otherwise, they are ALL strong contractions."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So let me back up. My father in law came into town that same day around noon. Not to witness the birth, but to work on @tinselwear with her.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
That startup life is real. My wife was grinding right up until she went into labor. Anyway, he's hanging out for most of this labor ordeal.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
When the strong contractions started coming, he was pretty freaked out. I don't know what it's like to hear your daughter like that.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Okay, so we've done some solid laboring. We're all proud of ourselves. But things are getting hectic. Time to go in to the hospital right?
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
"We usually like to wait until they're 2-3 minutes apart. That signals active labor is approaching."
Oh? Do tell.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I'm a little worried. But we still think we have time. It's only been about 10-11 hours. Plus my wife is still hanging in there.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
This is where I might recommend the hypnobirthing book. It's little new agey. Okay maybe a lot. But my wife is handling things so well.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So Kaiser says give it an hour or 2. But @operaqueenie is looking for ways to actively manage the pain. So we decide to put her in the bath.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Water is supposed to help labor a lot. Even Kaiser has a tub they will put you in if you come in to the hospital. Cool, let's do this.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Okay this has been a lot of build up. But things start to go pretty fast at this point. Strap in y'all.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So the contractions are legit now. I remember the last one she had before the tub was the first time she actually exclaimed. "Jesus Christ".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
But we get her in the tub. And for the first few minutes, it seems to be helping. She's leaning back and breathing a little easier.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
And then it happened. All of a sudden my wife says she felt "a pop and a gush". Her water had broken.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
At that exact moment another contraction hit. Category 5. And a sound came out of my wife that scared the shit out of me.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Let me tell y'all something. Most of us only know late stage labor from what we see in movies. Some of it is accurate, but not the sound.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
It's not a scream, it's not a brave grunt, it's not tense teeth gritting. My father in law described it as a wail. Low and heart-wrenching.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I never want to hear that sound again from someone I love. Not ever.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So at this point, we know it's going down. Kaiser says if the water breaks, call immediately. We need to get the hospital STAT.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I start gathering the stuff. We've got the "go bag" ready. I tell my father in law who had tried to lay down and rest. "We're going. Now."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I have him put the stuff in the car (ProTip: we should've done this earlier in the day). I head back to collect the love of my life.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She is totally out of it. Fuck breathing. Fuck counting. Mind you it has been 5-7 minutes since first getting her into the bath.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Me: "We gotta go babe"
Her: "I can't make it."
Me: "Yes we will. We have to. Let's do this."
Her: "Oh my god. I'm getting the urge to push."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
...
...
...
"You can't do that. Don't push. We have to get to the hospital."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I have to get her dried off, dressed, and into the car. And then a 20 minute drive to Kaiser across town. OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Everything is moving in slow motion. She's out of the tub. I'm pulling a dress over her head. I'm walking her down to the garage.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
We are still about 10-12 minutes from the time we first got into the tub. "Give it another hour or 2". Man, listen.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
We're at the garage. I'm mentally preparing for the wild drive across town with her screaming in the back. Like the movies right y'all?
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
My wife stops. She's wailing.
"I can't. I'm gonna have this baby right now. I can feel the head."
She starts to *sit down in our foyer*.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
OH MY GOD YOU CAN'T DO THAT STOP PUSHING WE CAN MAKE IT WHAT DO I DO?
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
So I can't really process the head coming out situation. My father and law and I are still thinking we can get her into the car.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
My wife is the only one with clarity. "Call 911. Get the What to Expect book. There's a section on emergency delivery."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Where's this book?
*Fuck. This is happening.*
Where did I put the book?
*Fuck. I don't know if I can do this.*
WHERE THE HELL IS THIS BOOK?!
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I finally lay my hands on What to Expect When You're Expecting. It's been a godsend through pregnancy. I think it's about to save me again.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
In a word. Nope.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I go back upstairs. I've got the book in hand. I'm flipping through finding the section on emergency delivery.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I walk into our bedroom.
My wife is on all fours.
I can see the top of my baby's head.
I don't have time to read shit.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I rush over. No idea what to do. She says "it's happening". I don't even have the mental capacity to think "no shit".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
At the same time, I'm hyper focused. Tunnel vision. She wails again and my baby girl's head comes out. I see her face for the first time.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's blue.
She's covered in goo.
She's blue.
She's beautiful.
Oh fuck, she's blue. She can't breathe!
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Now I'm talking my wife through it. "I can see her head babe. But she's gotta come out. You gotta push."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
"I can't. I can't push. Can you grab her? Can you reach in and get her?"
OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Y'all. I can't really describe what it's like to try to do that. To try to reach in with your hands and pull a baby out of a vagina.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I can't do it. I was so afraid that I would hurt her or my wife. Probably both. She feels so fragile. I can't. But I have to. What do I do?
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Then it became a moot point. A fresh contraction starts. Wailing. Pushing. And Noemi Rose Rogers pops right out into my hands.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I've got her. She's in my hands. My baby was just born. In our bed. In our house.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Right then is when my tunnel vision broke. I realized my father in law was on speaker phone with 911. They were "talking me through it".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The only thing I actually remembered this woman say was right at that moment. "You have to hold her tight. She's going to be slippery."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
For the record, that is indeed true. Brand new humans are very slippery.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's still in my hands. Still. Eyes closed.
Flashback: "Oh fuck, she's blue. She can't breathe!"
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The 911 dispatcher is still talking to me. I realize she's asking "is she crying?".
She is not.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's still in my hands. She's still attached to my wife. I have used up all of my heroics. I have no idea what to do.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I shift her a little. Move her into my harms. I bouncer her a little. I try to pat her back. I need her to cry, yell, burp, spit, SOMETHING.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She spits out some fluid.
She wriggles just a little.
And then she lets out one sharp, clear yelp.
And breathes.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
My southern baptist upbringing comes through. I can hear my late grandmother in my head saying "Thank you Jesus. Thank you Lord. Amen Lord."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Y'all let me tell you about my baby girl. Other than 2-3 yelps like that, she doesn't cry at all. Her eyes are open and she's looking at me.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She has just been through the most intense ordeal. And she's just like her momma. A trooper. Breathing. Handling it.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I wanna catch the Holy Ghost and pass out. But I can't,... cause, you know, I'm holding a baby.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
And that's when the EMTs decide to show up. Yeah come on in I guess. But we good here.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
One last thing. The What To Expect book did sort of come in handy. The EMTs assisted me in cutting the cord. And we used it as the surface.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I walk into our bedroom.
My wife is on all fours.
I can see the top of my baby's head.
I don't have time to read shit.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I rush over. No idea what to do. She says "it's happening". I don't even have the mental capacity to think "no shit".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
At the same time, I'm hyper focused. Tunnel vision. She wails again and my baby girl's head comes out. I see her face for the first time.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's blue.
She's covered in goo.
She's blue.
She's beautiful.
Oh fuck, she's blue. She can't breathe!
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Now I'm talking my wife through it. "I can see her head babe. But she's gotta come out. You gotta push."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
"I can't. I can't push. Can you grab her? Can you reach in and get her?"
OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Y'all. I can't really describe what it's like to try to do that. To try to reach in with your hands and pull a baby out of a vagina.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I can't do it. I was so afraid that I would hurt her or my wife. Probably both. She feels so fragile. I can't. But I have to. What do I do?
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Then it became a moot point. A fresh contraction starts. Wailing. Pushing. And Noemi Rose Rogers pops right out into my hands.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I've got her. She's in my hands. My baby was just born. In our bed. In our house.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Right then is when my tunnel vision broke. I realized my father in law was on speaker phone with 911. They were "talking me through it".
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The only thing I actually remembered this woman say was right at that moment. "You have to hold her tight. She's going to be slippery."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
For the record, that is indeed true. Brand new humans are very slippery.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's still in my hands. Still. Eyes closed.
Flashback: "Oh fuck, she's blue. She can't breathe!"
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
The 911 dispatcher is still talking to me. I realize she's asking "is she crying?".
She is not.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She's still in my hands. She's still attached to my wife. I have used up all of my heroics. I have no idea what to do.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I shift her a little. Move her into my harms. I bouncer her a little. I try to pat her back. I need her to cry, yell, burp, spit, SOMETHING.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She spits out some fluid.
She wriggles just a little.
And then she lets out one sharp, clear yelp.
And breathes.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
My southern baptist upbringing comes through. I can hear my late grandmother in my head saying "Thank you Jesus. Thank you Lord. Amen Lord."
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Y'all let me tell you about my baby girl. Other than 2-3 yelps like that, she doesn't cry at all. Her eyes are open and she's looking at me.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
She has just been through the most intense ordeal. And she's just like her momma. A trooper. Breathing. Handling it.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
I wanna catch the Holy Ghost and pass out. But I can't,... cause, you know, I'm holding a baby.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
And that's when the EMTs decide to show up. Yeah come on in I guess. But we good here.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
One last thing. The What To Expect book did sort of come in handy. The EMTs assisted me in cutting the cord. And we used it as the surface.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
One last thing. The What To Expect book did sort of come in handy. The EMTs assisted me in cutting the cord. And we used it as the surface.
— Marco Rogers (@polotek) January 8, 2016
Big congratulations to Aniyia Williams, CEO + Founder of Tinsel (who apparently was working right up until baby arrived) and Marco Rogers, a web developer and story teller extraordinaire, and of course, baby Noemi.
* We recognize that not all families have ‘birth stories’, that some have adoption stories, some have surrogate stories, some have step-family stories, some have foster stories. We embrace all family stories.