"Oh baby...Come closer. Eye to eye, soul to soul. Come say hello to your new-born mother."
At 6:32 AM on a bright, cold, and quite ordinary January
day- to the sound of Bethel’s
instrumental “What Does it Sound Like”- my entire world changed.
Of course, worlds don’t change in a matter of seconds.
They evolve. They adapt; typically as the result of explosions, eruptions, gravitational pulls,
errosion, or you know, the creation and birth of a tiny human.
So I guess it’s more fair to say that, at about 10:00 am on
Memorial Day, exacly 38 weeks and 1 day earlier, my world was shaken by a small,
innocent, piece of plastic that displayed two parallel blue lines.
To answer your question, no those two blue lines were not
“planned” by mine and Monte’s human imaginations, but those lines were a gift
from a more creative, and Divine imagination- none the less. The Divine
imagination is far more crafty and beautiful than our perfectly flawed human
ones, by the way, and can’t be limited by things like, “plans.” In other words,
while Henry was not planned, he was neither unwanted or unloved- Henry was
anything but an accident.
Anyway, I digress- that’s a topic for another day.
Through those 38 weeks, I was often discouraged- not just by
heartburn and popping hips- but by the fear of of having a little person
without first mentally acknowledging that having a tiny human was on my “to
do” list.
Hearing other mom’s stories about when they decided to have
children further discouraged me. I was often interrupted by thoughts that maybe
I was already a terrible mother because I was an “accidental” mother- not a
ready-prepared, cross-this-off-my-today’s-list mother. Maybe because he wasn’t
planned, I wouldn’t love him as much. Maybe…
But the weeks passed, and worrying about whether or not I
would love my tiny human was exhausting and non-productive, so like a branch
floating down a lazy river, I decided I’d let this tiny human sweep me up, and
carry me on- to wherever it was the three of us were going together.
“Did it hurt?” is what I was often asked after he was born.
To answer that question, on a scale of 1-10, it cost my body about a 15 to
bring Henry into this world, but it gave my heart endless amounts of joy,
peace, and a deep, deep love that I had never fathomed was possible.
With that said, let’s forget about the pain of birth for a
moment, and focus only on the strength, power, and intoxicating happiness of
such a happy event. That’s what birthing
Henry was like, after all.
At 1:30 AM, I had my first contraction, or surge, or wave-
whatever you’d like to think of it as. For me, it was a hot cramp.
I slid into the warm water of our tub and considered that
perhaps my cramps were those annoying Braxton Hicks that would soon dissolve in
the warmth. But those hot cramps grew into a rolling pin sensation…over my
muscles and down to my bones.
Inhale…Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Inhale…Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.…
I was visualizing every contraction as a series of taps
against the side of the tub, and a series of low groans. Monte’s words rolling,
“they’re ten minutes apart.”
So fast? I remember thinking as another rolled down my
abdomen and through my hips.
In a very short time those ten minutes became every 6
minutes. When Courtney our Doula (yes, if you’re going natural, I HIGHLY
recommend hiring a Doula) arrived, they were 4-6 minutes apart.
Laboring in our cozy apartment was not glamorous. I moved,
waddled, to the living room where my husband and Courtney had lit candles. My
hand taps changed into long stretching of arms and fingers on the sofa. My
breathing became longer, lower, and deep. My knees felt like they were sinking
into the softness of our rug. The rise and fall of contractions over me, again
and again, made me feel incredibly sick; fortunately, Courtney was resourceful
where monte was squeamish ( again, this wasn’t glamorous). But it felt like
good, intentional work. It felt like that world changing kind of gravity in my
hips- like I was doing something powerful.
They moved so hard and fast, we moved back to the tub-
candles were lit- and I let the hot water absorb some of the pressure growing
in my hips.
At 4:28 AM- just short of three hours from that initial
contraction- it was time. Definitely time. We headed to the hospital.
Transition happened in the back seat of our Tucson on the
way to Brookwood. I said things like, “I feel like I’m dying,” and “If I got an
epidural, would this all go away?” This was one of those pivotal moments I had
read about- but you just never quite remember EVERYTHING you read when you’re
having 45 second to 1 minute long contractions. With that said, transition was
the main reason why it was important for me to have Courtney. She gently
reminded me that what and how I was feeling was perfectly normal, I was likely
in transition, and my baby would be here soon. Her sweet, soft voice was all I
needed to stay focused and motivated.
To be honest, a lot of this was a blurry dream to me. It was
like my body was shedding away with each contraction, but I grounded myself in
each one, and I let myself float in them. When I was afraid, or wanted to run
from them, Courtney reminded me, “Remember, low (groans) bring your baby to
you.” Courtney was the sister I never had through the entire night, but it was this moment I loved her the most.
I paused several times once we arrived at Brookwood. In the
car, outside the car, outside the door, just inside the door, in the hallway,
In the elevator, outside the elevator, in the hallway, in the hallway, at the
door. They were coming very quickly at that point. When the nurse checked, I
was 8-9 cm dilated- but honestly, I knew he was coming, no matter what number
she gave me, my body and those steady and increasing contractions told me so.
Towards the end of about 20 minutes of really unpleasant
clinical protocols, my body was “pushing,” but it felt more like an exhale, a release of sorts. About this time, I felt my water bag, and during the next
contraction- with Monte behind me putting counter pressure on my hips- my water
broke and fell in one big splash. I apologized. Monte laughed.
All the while, during those 20 minutes, the nurses were
attempting to inflate a laboring water pool until they realized I was pushing-
which, unfortunately, in a clinical setting meant no getting into that divine
laboring pool for me. It was somewhat frustrating and comical all at the same
time. Comical because that birthing tub is all I talked about for about 6
months and I never stepped one foot into one at the hospital. Frustrating
because it was right in front of me, I was so ready to birth my baby, and here
I was standing on the side of a bed, being poked, prodded, and monitored…sigh.
(Have I mentioned our next baby will be born with a Midwife in a birthing
center? Yes, that.)
Anyway, I prayed, laughed it off, and held off any offensive
words. Not too shabby, MLA, not too shabby.
There was another point, maybe in labor, when I apologized
to the nurses for not having baked any cookies for them. Monte says it was
about five minutes before I birthed Henry. I don’t know. I just know we laughed
about it later.
At this point, my body was really pushing. Courtney directed
me to sit on a laboring stool she had set up with a Rebozo. I was floating in
and out of a weird consciousness. Aware that Courtney was helping me get into
position, but not sure exactly what she was saying. Breathing heavy into my
contractions, pulling the Rebozo tight towards me, and lying in blissful
relief in the minutes between.
After about four contractions like this, I felt Henry’s
head. And I remember feeling disbelief that I could feel his head. I. could.
Feel. My. Sons. Head. THIS WAS AMAZING!
I moved onto the bed to get more comfortable and so I could
see what I was doing. His head looked so small, so tiny, that I didn’t believe
he was real. I thought he was a doll baby.
I remember telling the air, maybe someone, that I was
crowning. I slowed down my pushing, and breathed quickly. I was never afraid. I
was never uncertain. My body just kept telling me what to do. With one push,
Henry’s head became a real baby’s head- the back of his head rotating to the
right as his face rolled upwards facing me- and leaning down, I swept him up in
my arms, every little inch of him. And while for some it seems shocking that I delivered and caught my own baby, I can't emphasize how Divine the whole experience was. How slow time moved, and how much I and Henry, moving together as one in that moment, made sense.
6:32 AM. Time stopped. And the world became the most beautiful and warm place.
It was painless, in the end. I didn’t feel a thing. I
promise that.
I held him against my skin, so small, and precious. Moments
before I felt like my hips were disintegrating with each contraction, my body
falling away from an old shell, becoming something new, and bright, and strong.
And just as I saw his face, my metamorphosis into a mother was complete.
I was complete.
I’ve never felt so elated before, never in my life. I’ve
never wanted to laugh so hard, and cry so hard, and feel so hard. I saw myself
in him, knew him, wanted him, loved him. I’d do anything for him, be anything
for him, die for him, love for him, cry for him.
I held him, and held him. I (ugly) cried, Monte cried. We were in
perfect awe of him. His nose, his lips, his long fingers and toes, the way he
looked at us. That memory of first seeing him and holding him will stay with me
forever. I wish I had a picture of the moment he was born, but Courtney was
helping me birth in that moment, not thinking of her camera, understandable.
I love the pictures we have of those moments. I’ve never
felt so overwhelmed- such a high before-in my life. I’ve never felt such a
strong surge of emotions before: I think it’s fair to say that afterbirth is
somewhat intoxicating. And powerful. Yay, oxytocin and endorphins. All I can say is I was unimaginably bound to this tiny piece of Monte and myself.
He lied against me, and after another hour or two, crawled
to my breast and nursed. And I was so proud of him. Already, proud that he was
my son.
My son.
Our son.
And that’s how two unplanned, blue lines became my heart’s
greatest treasure. That's how someone so afraid and unsure of being a mother, became a mother. It only took a split second for hands and feet as tiny as Henry's to change everything I thought I knew about this life, and I'm so thankful that God saw it fit that I should be swept down that river, despite my uncertainties and lack of plans.
Of course, becoming a mother doesn’t always look like this.
Sometimes it happens lying down, sometimes with Pitocin and an Epidural,
sometimes after a C-section, sometimes it happens when you step off a plane and
a fresh faced baby is placed in your arms and you know that, even though that
baby may not have your DNA, that baby is all yours. And as one mother in my natural
birth group described, sometimes natural birth is painless and mostly joyful (maybe
next time, maybe next time). And sometimes, being a mother is watching kids
after school, or in a Sunday School class, baby sitting for friends, or being the "baby whisperer". But no matter how you become or became a mother, once
you’re a mother, you’re always a mother.
And its beautiful. Every full second
of it.
Again, I want to say thank you to our sweet, precious Doula, Courtney. She was like my sister through the night, and I know that without her, Monte and I would have been lost on our own. And I want to thank my steady and sure husband, Monte. A man who can hold my hips for 5 hours, feed me ice, and be as much apart of Henry's birth as I was is a man I want to spend every day of my life with.
A few open words on natural birth in a hospital setting:
This is really a topic for another blog, but I don’t’ really
want to blog on this topic. It frustrates me, and there are enough pro-natural
birth movements out there that I feel I can sum this up quickly. let me just say
I had a natural birth in a clinical setting, and therefore, I did not have a
natural birth, I had an unmedicated birth- and there is a difference. The
fluorescent lights, the noise, the needles, and monitors, and urine samples (at 9
cm- WHAT!) are not natural as far as I’m concerned. I think at a hospital, you
may find staff who are supportive of natural birth in that they will allow you
to birth in their facility with “minimal” medical intervention, but it is more
rare to find a hospital that allows a truly natural birth (no 20 minutes of
heart monitoring while standing, no hep lock, no urine sample, birthing in a
birthing pool vs. just laboring, dimmed lights, silence…) or a hospital that
has true expertise in the area of natural birth. This is the only part of my
birth story I dislike. I really wanted to experience what God designed our
bodies to experience and in a comfortable, homey setting, but I missed out on
that experience in our state because birthing at home with a Midwife is illegal
and we have no natural birth clinics in our state. I am so thankful for OBGYNs as
well as delivery and labor nurses because there are instances in some women
when their skills are absolutely necessary, but while we have a very
established and clear route for birth and delivery that requires a lot of
medical intervention, we are ironically very limited in skills, education, and
practice when it comes to all natural birth and delivery in the clinical
setting (which is weird since spontaneous natural birth is the easiest route in
terms of preventing complications). So, for those women who are at low risk,
and go into labor spontaneously (without Pitocin or other augmentation methods)can
we advocate more, speak more, and work more towards creating a truly natural
birth friendly environment that does not consider us natural birthers as
hippies going against the grain, but as logical women who made a sound decision
based on a large body of evidence-based literature and the testimonies of all
those women who chose this way to birth before us? Can we support the age-old
wisdom of Midwives and their expertise in natural labor and trust that there
is more of a taboo around natural birth than any medical evidence of it’s
dangers? Can we create a truly natural environment that provides medical
intervention as the safety back up and not the natural go to? After all, having
a “natural” birth in a hospital makes as much sense as playing soccer in a
batting cage; sure, you can kick a soccer ball in a batting cage, but it’s
illogical, and completely unnatural. Baseballs belong in batting cages, soccer
balls on soccer fields. High risk pregnancies and medically augmented
pregnancies belong in hospitals, low risk pregnancies and spontaneous labors
belong, well, not in hospitals. As strange as it sounds, I’m convinced natural
birth is not a new frontier women are just now discovering, it’s rather a place
many women are rediscovering with new eyes, and without fear. Women are just
returning to something that existed for thousands, and thousands of years. Let’s give them an easier path to getting
there, huh?
Anyone interested exploring Natural Birth:
I suggest reading:
Ina May Gaskin’s A Guide to Childbirth (she’s a world renown
Midwife at The Farm in Tennessee, and their c-section, perineal tear, VBAC,
etc. statistics are what hospitals dream of accomplishing). I read her book
three times..it was my favorite.
This evidence-based collection of essays
written by Chris Kresser http://chriskresser.com/naturalchildbirth/
Gentle Birth. Gentle
Mothering: A Doctor’s Guide to Natural Childbirth and Natural Parenting Choices
by Sarah. J, Buckley, M.D (if you’re looking for a literature review of
sorts on natural birth and a lot of scientific evidence; otherwise, stick with Ina May's book- has the same information)
Childbirth Without
Fear: The Principle and Practice of Natural Childbirth, by Grantly
Dick-Read
Read the most recent evidence-based research on natural
birth at home vs. hospitals if you’re afraid of safety- spoiler alert- it’s
safer at home (but this is why a natural birthing clinic would be useful)
Documentaries, The
Business of Being Born, Orgasmic Birth, and watching natural birth videos
in general (they are crazy encouraging, and get rid of the whole fear factor
thing)
Spinningbabies.com to explore exercises to get baby is best
possible position to make every contraction count towards labor progression.
Join a support group like Natural Childbirth in Alabama on
Facebook. You’ll find tons of resources, support, and encouragement there
Ask women who have had a
natural birth questions, talk to Doulas or Midwives. They’ve all been there,
done that J
