Birth Story of the Week: Fear loses its power when we learn how to trust

This week's story was sent in by Amanda, and it details her journey to giving birth to her fourth child. I love how this story illustrates the uniqueness of each pregnancy and birth and the fact that fear is a natural part of being pregnant, even for women who have given birth before. This mom decided to proactively combat those fears instead of giving in to them, and it makes for a very inspiring read. Thank you for sharing, Amanda!

--Leigh

This last pregnancy was going to be a breeze...this was my fourth baby after all, i had home birthed, i was a HypnoBirthing practitioner, was in a traditional midwifery program, and i had been working as a doula for the past few years...so i knew pregnancy and birth and i trusted the process. I remember feeling sorry for women who thought of birth as a painful event that one had to "get through" in order to meet their babies. I was above all that fearful-of-birth business ....at least until i hit the eighth month and realized that I had to do it again!

The fear crept in and stayed awhile... I remember at night, waking up to the feeling like i needed to escape my body, but i couldn't move. And sometimes it felt like i wasn't able to breathe.

The more fear i felt, the more positive (and some not so positive) birth stories i read, and the more abdominal breathing i did. I practiced my HypnoBirthing daily and listened to positive birth affirmation CDs while driving my minivan filled with MY children. Thats right, the three previous children i had already birthed quite fearlessly. Why now? I think the fear came from: 1) the thought of being out of control, and not being able to surrender, 2) I've given birth before, so i know its intensity, and 3), attending births during my pregnancy gave me a whole new perspective on the variations of how birth can go.

I had had three empowering births, and I had gotten all those lovely endorphins and oxytocin to help me feel euphoric and totally blissed out and bonded to my babies. I remembered those parts so well, and when we were planning on having a fourth, all i thought of was that highly addictive euphoria at the end!

I liken it to a druggie (hello birth junkies!) who will do anything to get that feeling from the next hit. We forget the "sensations" a little while after birth since we are totally high on LOVE!

So i continued on my journey embracing the birthing process for what it was, and practiced surrendering. I did it over and over and over again...since its easy to stop surrendering. I learned how to focus on the now, while being thankful to God for the opportunity to take part in another birth, which He made me able to do. My biofeedback sessions were amazing and gave me some incredible tools for life, not just birth. I also had chiropractic adjustments once a week, massage therapy and acupuncture. I was mostly ready.

The last day of January came and i felt prepared emotionally and physically to birth...i had faith, courage and TOOLS! At around 6:30 pm that Monday evening as i made dinner for my family, i had started to get some mild contractions ( i won't use the HypnoBirthing speak here), and i knew this was it. I got excited at the thought of meeting my baby and i was SO DONE with being so huge. The contractions came and went, not in a particular pattern for a few hours and then started to get painful around 9 ish. I called my midwife and then wrote a little letter to my baby...one of my rituals i do when i go into labour. When we tucked the kids into bed we told them they would be meeting their baby in the morning, and they found it hard to believe! (My six year old told his dad that he doubted it). My other births had gotten faster and faster, and with my last birth being about an hour and a half i thought this baby would be born in January.

We got the birthing pool up and ready, i stayed out of it as long as i could and laboured using the "lift and tuck" for my back labour, and got my husband to massage...er, punch...my lower back, which is our standard labour "system" we've done every time. One of my boys called down from his bedroom,"Mom, are you having birth?"

It was at the point when i had to use "vocal toning" (ie: yelling the 'ahhh' sound) during my contractions that i thought i was near and got into the birth pool. My midwife came and got everything set up, ...and my contractions slowed to 5-6 minutes apart. I was comfy in my pool with my Ray LaMontagne and Jack Johnson playing, and i thought that the baby would soon be out... heck, what was i worried about..I could do this!

When the second midwife arrived i asked her to check me to see how dilated i was ( i was dead against this before)...I was ONLY 3! Labour had just begun.

My husband made coffee for the midwives, our children slept and i held onto the side of the tub for dear life. They were strong and coming closer together. I took my Rescue Remedy...don't know why, i wasn't afraid, i was in freaking pain! My labour went from the dreaded back labour that i had always had, to the feeling of my hips being pulled apart like wish bones after a Thanksgiving dinner. I couldn't breathe into the pain or through it, i only felt like yelling (i mean vocal toning!).

My midwife thought that maybe i should get out to speed things up...like climb stairs or Mount Everest..sure, no prob. I got out and headed to the bathroom, frantically searching for walls to brace myself against...yelling my head off the whole time. I felt like i was going to go crazy if i had to do this much longer...and realized i needed a plan. So i yelled at my husband to stop looking at me, and holed myself up in my cave. I sat on that toilet, put my feet on the stool, and welcomed every feeling, every sensation, and just "observed" them, i didn't judge those cute little contractions as pain..not one bit. For about an hour and a half i was zen. I was SMILING. I thought i got the freakin' golden ticket...everything clicked and i "got" what surrendering through pain was, i would be the best hypnobirther ever.

Then I needed a new plan.

When I had gotten cold enough and my bottom too numb to feel, I went back to the pool. My little birth spa. HA. The sensations went rip roaring through every cell south of my belly button. I felt that I needed to bear down with every contraction. I asked to get checked again. 5 cm. I wished she had lied..nope, I wished I hadn't asked. The problem was this; my little man had part of the bag of waters in front of his head, so his head wasn't putting very much pressure on the cervix. Maybe thats why so much pressure in my hips?

Plan..plan..needed a plan! My husband got in the pool and punched my lower back harder than my midwife had ever seen someone want to be punched(counter pressure at its finest!) while I held onto the sides and bore down....yes, I pushed this early. This is how I got through the labyrinth of my labour.

Ray and Jack continued to sing, the midwives did paperwork and had a little nap, and it felt very comforting to be doing this at home. Comforting in a bittersweet sort of way.

At 4:30 am, I got out of the pool so my midwife could check to see if my cervix was swelling from all that bearing down I was doing (it wasn't) and I wanted to know if my self checks were accurate (they weren't). I was at 5 and a half cm...I'm thinking the "and a half" was just to make me believe my body had done SOMETHING in the last hour and a half. My midwife asked if I wanted her to break the water bag, and I said a big "YES!" The baby was down low enough so there was no risk of chord prolapse, and I had laboured through the night. I wanted to meet my baby.

As soon as she broke the bag he descended quickly. So quickly that they couldn't find his heartbeat for a couple of contractions. I went from side lying on my left side, to the right side to standing until they finally found those blessed heart tones. So relieved!

I was on autopilot. I got down on my knees and held onto the side of the pool..I never did get back in. I pushed for a few more contractions and when I felt the feeling of a huge rock coming out my bum, I knew it was almost over! Oh blessed be. Ezra slid out into his father's arms and I heard his loud cry belt out from his little body (little-ish, 9'3 isn't so small!) My baby was here! I remember saying, "Am I dreaming? Is this for real?"

Birth is such a surreal, ecstatic (out of body) event. Birth has taught me so much about myself, and about how pain is an important part of the birth process just as it is in life. Fear loses its power when we learn how to TRUST.

After Ezra was born I laid down and held him for the first time, drinking it all in, so excited to have these first moments with him. I stared into his sweet little eyes, and realized how much we already knew each other.

My three year old son woke up first, surprised that there really was a baby in my belly. Then the other two woke up and ran down the stairs to meet their new baby. Immediate love and acceptance for their new brother.

I am thankful.

Birth Story of the Week: Like Water from Morning Air

This wonderful birth story was sent to me by Erica, author of the blog Becoming Mama Wise, and it was written by Erica's husband. Of all the stories I have posted, I think this is the first planned unassisted home birth. Erica included this note, which illuminates the couple's attitudes about birthing without the help of a midwife or doctor:

"we're not planned unassisted childbirth missionaries (by any means!!!); the decision to birth at home alone was one we made very specific to my age, health, pregnancy stats, and 2-minute proximity to one of the best hospitals in sf. were any of those circumstances different we perhaps would have made a different choice. we had a beautiful, extraordinary, empowering birth, but i don't want anyone to feel like they can't have that at home with a midwife, or even in a hospital."

I loved reading about their incredibly personal journey to bringing their child into the world, and I think you will too. Thanks for sharing, guys!

--Leigh

AG, you were born in our hearts before you arrived to this world of joy and strife. As any two people sharing lives, we had our struggles, your mom and I, but never with you coming to our lives. We watched her belly grow, amazed at the biology, at the miracle of you in there getting ready to live a human life with us in this mad and beautiful world. Just the vision of your little face and hands, of your smell and cooing baby sounds always made us smile, and sometimes even cry... not something I do very easily. And then, when you finally arrived, well, my heart cracked open wide as I cry now and forever in sweetness for you... that which I only feel for you and your big brother, Brandon.

We really wanted to have you born in the softness of our own gentle home. I was nervous about this, to do this without experienced help, but not your mom; she knew what all women know but most forget, that we would have the collective help of all the women who have ever lived, that giving birth is what she is made for, and that you would come to us like water from morning air.

We tried to be patient as your due date arrived and passed, but as you’ll know soon enough, waiting is a lifelong treasure. We went to a museum that night, and something in the air felt different, kinda dreamy for me, and kinda constipated for your mom; We knew you were coming.

She knew it would be hard... or she thinks she knew it would be hard because people tell us this and she was reading about it for nine months; I knew she had no clue what she was in for. It started slowly and softly, around ten o’clock. We lit candles and played mellow music; I scurried around making sure everything was in easy reach, while she tried to find comfortable positions for the surging waves that would eventually build to be an earthquake in the air... really, she was making sounds that made the air shake. The most primal and true force of nature had enveloped our home through your mom. It was late at night and, though I knew the neighbors were understanding of what was happening on the other side of their wall, I hoped nobody had to get up early for work or church. At one point I was certain the police would come pounding at the door, guns drawn, demanding my surrender for murder.

In the bathroom, really? That’s where she wanted to be and nothing would be better, not the warm water tub, nor the propped pillowy bed. On the toilet, really? I just had to figure out how to maneuver her and you and me all in that small space, and I really hoped you wouldn’t land in the bowl. Our sweet puppy Oso was curious all night, seated right outside the bathroom door... trying to get a few times to see what the ruckus was all about. Between the throes of her thundering, I tried to massage her, give her water, or whatever she wanted, but of course, little I did could ease the pressure of the next swelling wave. She wanted to be alone for some of this, to focus, to surrender into this rolling ride, in and out of here and now, off into some other place you nor I will ever know. I thought it would go on for many more hours, so I laid in bed to rest and listen to this tribal superwoman scream and vibrate the walls. Around three a.m. her
contractions were very close together and very intense, and I mean out of this world.

Intense; there’s no way anybody who hasn’t done it before can be ready for this kind of intensity, no matter what people tell you or what you read. And that’s about when I saw the top of your head inside your momma’s vagina... “whoa, okay, here we go, now I can do something. First of all, it was really cool, you had dropped in for the final descent, and I could see that you had lots of dark hair. I could see the amniotic sac intact...hmmm, should I break it, how do I break it, when do I break it? Your momma kept wailing as her body pushed you closer to the world... it wouldn’t be long. I was nervous about what I didn’t know, but calm and ready to do what ever needed to be done to take care of you and your momma. The top of your head came closer, more of it showing, and your momma’s cootchie stretching unimaginably. I decided to touch the sac with my finger to feel it’s texture and thickness, and when I did this it just popped like a bubble and thankfully clear fluid poured out. I rubbed your hair... another pushing and you were closer, and then another... I could see you were facing downward, your head more than halfway out, WOW, this is amazing to watch and hear and smell, your momma, still on the toilet, pushing your small body through a yet smaller opening, like squeezing a watermelon through a garden hose, as they say. She lifted her hips with each pushing surge as I gently guided your head further and further, until suddenly your whole head was out and you turned your head to the side and I saw your face... Oh my god, your face, buddha like with eyes wide open gazing about. I slipped my finger inside to feel your neck... smooth and clear, no cord, pheeew. Here comes a shoulder, and whooops, quickly here comes the rest of you like a wet eel... I had to hold your head with one hand and catch your slippery body with the other, clutching you to my chest so you wouldn’t slip away from me... no, I did not almost drop you.

You had a blue-ish tint to your pink body, normal and healthy. You weren’t crying like I thought you should be, but I could tell that you were breathing. Your momma lay down on the bathroom floor, towels underneath, and I put you right to her chest, your lifeline cord still inside on the placenta. I could feel momma’s heart beat still pulsing through it to you. I suctioned your nose and mouth, rubbed your back and legs and feet... I really wanted you to cry, to take big gulps of air to hear your lungs open wide, but you didn’t; you just cooed and gurgled a little, gazing about the candle-lit bathroom... okay, he’s still got good color, he’s breathing, his reflexes are wiggly and strong, his face is expressive, his heart rate is strong... the cord stopped pulsing, so I clamped and cut, for you to forever have your own blood supply. Where’s the placenta... c’mon... this isn’t over yet... the baby is okay... now the momma... more painful contractions and after about 25 minutes it came out looking like a big piece of liver spilling onto blood soaked towels. The quaking noise stopped and I wondered if the world knew you were here, or at least maybe the neighbors.

We moved to the bed... everything seemed okay, though the bathroom looked like a scene from Dexter. You were perfect, relaxed and dazed. Your momma was perfect, relaxed and dazed... but I was still in there, monitoring, watching everything. At the least, for the re-assurance that you and momma were safe and healthy, I’m glad we went to the hospital. I’m really glad we went after our own home birth, by ourselves, just our family right from the start; nothing will ever change what the three of us did together.

Through the night, I was indeed focused on the business of birthing you, keeping you and momma safe, but I was also above the whole scene of us, watching from somewhere else. I’ve always been somewhat of a living contradiction, so to say I’m a “spiritual atheist” makes sense, and it feels right to say that the god-who-doesn’t-exist lifted the curtain that night... gave us a live back-stage participation in one of the greatest forces in the universe, the creation of a new life-force... You...AG, may you always take big gulps of air with wide open lungs, and gaze about the world... buddha-like.

Photo via Becoming Mama Wise.

Meeting Ina May

That's me, beaming away, just moments after meeting Ina May Gaskin and having her sign my copy of her new book at an appearance in Brooklyn on Sunday.

Ina May has been called the mother of authentic midwifery and the most important person in maternity care in North America, and I have long admired her and utilized her books equally as reference texts and spiritual guides to birth and motherhood.

It was such a thrill to hear her speak (at length, before a packed venue), such a privilege to absorb her wisdom in person (from the front row -- I got there early!), and an absolute joy to experience her down-to-earth personality and hilarious sense of humor. To top it all off, I have to say that at 70 years young she has quite the quirky-cute fashion sensibility (making her even more of my idol than she already was). My girlfriends, Jen and Nancy, and I were just plain giddy to be there.

Early on in her talk, Ina May said something that I keep thinking about: we live in such a fast-paced, mechanized world -- we inhabit vast urban and suburban environments, we rely ever more on our beloved phones, computers and electronic gadgets, we do so many things with the aid of machines and technology -- it's easy to forget a simple fact, which is that

we are Nature.

Other memorable moments:

• Hearing Ina May debunk some of the fundamental building blocks of Western thought, including Plato's ideas on the body, before going on to opine on the merits of fart jokes and Wayne's World.
• Listening to her talk about humor as an excellent anecdote to fear.
• Two words: Sphincter Law.
• She shared the story of the birth of her first child, which occurred in a hospital and involved various unnecessary and traumatic interventions, which was very fascinating and moving to hear about. She said she is now grateful for that experience because of what she learned from it.
• "Men think only their stuff can get big and then small again without being ruined." Brought the house down.

It was great. I can't wait to read the new book!

Birth Story of the Week: Nothing Compares

Today's birth story is by Rachel Swan, who has a wonderful blog dedicated to many of my favorite things, including the topic of home birth. Rachel is such a proponent of home birth that she decided to devote a solid week of her posts to answering reader's questions about the midwifery model of care and her own experiences as someone who has given birth to two children at home. So far, the series is a great read with lots of helpful, enlightening, encouraging info, so I urge you to check it out and jump in on the conversation!

--Leigh

I found out I was pregnant with Sela in August of 2006. I was 20 years old and had only been married since the beginning of June. Both Brian and I were completely shocked, to say the least, that we were going to be parents. Every evening we would sit on our small couch in our small apartment talking and planning for our future that suddenly included the tiny little person that we had created.

Up to this point in my life, I had never imagined how I would give birth. My only experience with birth was watching my little sister, Sophie, being born when I was 11. My mom gave birth in a hospital, and it was pretty quick and uneventful. I remember my dad holding her hand, rubbing her back, and speaking quietly in her ear. The doctor poked his head in a few times, checked dilation, and finally showed up right before Sophie was born. There were beeping machines, a television was on in the background, and a nurse brought me milkshakes. I remember watching in awe as Sophie's body emerged from my mother's, and wondered why the nurses took her so quickly away for weighing and measuring and washing. When they finally brought her back, all wrapped in a brand new blanket, I was the first to hold her.

My first and only experience with birth wasn't a negative one, although it is very different from what I eventually chose for myself. The doctor seemed kind, the nurses were helpful, and of course my dad was there to give support and love. When I picture my mother in labor, I see her sitting in the hospital bed in quiet discomfort, her eyes focusing intently on her round stomach. It is then that she makes an offhand comment that changes how I think and feel and envision birth for myself, a comment that I've carried with me for 14 years:

"It makes more sense to stand, I think. I feel like I'm pushing against gravity when I'm laying down here."

I doubt she even remembers saying this, but it shifted something inside of me. It made it possible for me picture a different birth.

When I found out I was pregnant with Sela I was working as a wellness counselor at Good Earth, a local health food store. I worked closely with a group of women who had recently finished their doula training and had worked with women who had given birth at home. We spent a lot of time talking about birth, all of the different ways that women support other women through the birthing process, and how important it is to have a support system in place in order to have the birth you want.

One of the women, my dear friend Vanessa, was pregnant with her first child and planning a home birth. I think I probably made her crazy with all of my questions during those first months, but she always answered my questions in such a positive and confident way. She knew the kind of birth she wanted and she was making it happen. A few weeks before she gave birth, she invited me to a birth party that was being held to honor her transition into motherhood. It was such an amazing night. I remember how much love and support and laughter filled V's home, and felt such a strong sense of sisterhood with those women who believed in a woman's ability to give birth however she chose.

When I went home that night, I had made up my mind; I wanted a home birth. I wanted to be in my own home, making decisions about my own body, and surrounded by people who believed in me.

Brian and I interviewed a few different midwives, but felt the most comfortable with Diane. We met with her at her home on a warm August afternoon, she was in the middle of a family reunion and her backyard was full of grandchildren. She asked us questions regarding our medical history, what kind of birth I wanted, and shared her credentials. She had delivered over 3,000 babies and had 30 years of experience. She started the midwifery college in Utah. She was confident and knowledgeable, answering all of our questions easily, and we knew that many midwives called Diane during long or complicated births for help and advice. She laughed easily and seemed to be more like an eccentric grandmother than a medical professional.

I started visiting with her at about 8 weeks. She lived 25 minutes from my home and I would drive to her house once a month for prenatal visits. She had a quiet room in her basement that she used as her office. When I arrived she would test my urine and I would weigh myself. Then we would go into her office + I would sit on the comfortable bed with a bright quilt while she took my blood pressure and we talked about what had happened in the past month. She would measure my growing stomach + listen to heart sounds. My visits lasted about 45 minutes and I felt comfortable talking to her about my changing body, the fears I had about labor, and the worry I had about being a young mother. I would usually leave with a list of herbs or supplements she felt would help prevent anemia, heartburn, and nervousness.

Around my 37th week of pregnancy, Diane came to my apartment for my prenatal appointments. This is common for home birth midwives, they like to know how to get to your house + become familiar with your home before you go into labor. She stayed about 2 hours and we talked about where we would put the birthing tub, how many people would be present, and where Diane could go once labor started so she wouldn't feel in the way.

On April 2, I woke up early with contractions. They were mild and erratic, but I felt that I should call Diane anyway. She told me she would be by at 2:00 to do an exam, but to call her if anything changed. I spent the morning pacing my living room, talking to my mom on the phone, and chatting anxiously with Brian. When Diane came, the contractions were coming every 5- 7 minutes, so Diane checked me and I was dilated to a 2. She said she had a few errands to run, but that she would be back at 5:00 or so, and to keep in touch with her during the next few hours.

Things continued to progress slowly, and by 5:00 I was feeling pretty uncomfortable. I had called my doula, Liz, my mom, and Briana who would be the assistant midwife. Everyone showed up around 6:00, and we spent the evening laughing together and working through contractions. I always had someone holding my hand or applying counter pressure to my hips. We all tried getting some sleep around 9:00, I curled up on the couch with a hot pad but couldn't get comfortable enough to rest. I was up and down, pacing the living room and leaning on Liz or Brian for support. At midnight, I was desperate to get into the birthing tub. So we filled it with hot water and I settled in, finally being able to fully relax my tired body. I floated in and out of sleep during those early morning hours, my body feeling weightless in the dark water. Liz was there to hold my hand and breath through each contraction with me. Diane put herbs in the bath that turned the water pink, and we joked how it almost felt like a spa. Around 6:00 AM Diane was worried that things weren't progressing and made the decision to break my water. After my water broke, things started to get serious. My contractions were getting more and more intense every minute and they were coming quickly, almost one on top of the other. I couldn't believe that my body could do anything so powerful. I remember Liz pressing on my hips and whispering gentle words to help me focus. She was breathing with me and talking to me and holding my hands when the contraction would finally pass.

It was during that time that I had a lot of thoughts about hospitals and c-sections. I just wanted the intensity to be over and I wanted it over RIGHT NOW. Brian was pressing a cold pack to my forehead and I grabbed it from his hand and threw it on the ground. I wasn't very happy and I was close to giving up. Maybe Diane could read my thoughts, because she had me get out of the tub, checked me, and said it was time to push. I was so exhausted. I pushed and pushed and pushed with Brian standing behind me, supporting me, and whispering in my ear, " Bring Sela home. You're amazing. Bring Sela home." And then with one big push and a big loud yell she was here. And just like that the pain, the intensity, everything was gone. Briana lifted her to me, and I held her slippery body close to mine. I closed my eyes and said, " I would do that again. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I would do it all again."

Everything after that moment is a little hazy. I know Brian cut the umbilical cord, and I handed Sela to my mom and sister so I could go and have Diane make sure everything was alright with me. I know there were apgar tests, and people with food, and an army of people cleaning up. I needed a few stitches and after I was all squared away, my mom brought Sela back to me. Everyone crowded in our small bedroom while Diane weighed and measured Sela. She listened to her lungs and heart, looked at her fingers and toes, and deemed her absolutely perfect. There were so many loving and excited faces watching me and my new daughter as Briana showed me how to breastfeed. I think there was actual cheering when Sela finally latched on! I spent the rest of the morning talking excitedly with family members and friends, telling them all about the amazing experience that had happened in my living room, and the wonderful, selfless women who supported me through those long, difficult hours.

There is absolutely nothing that compares to the feelings I had after giving birth to Sela. It is something that has defined me not only as a mother, but as a woman. I chose a path that taught me about the strength, power, and wisdom of women's bodies, and I will always be grateful for the opportunity I was given to bring Sela into this world surrounded and supported by women who believed not only in me, but in her too.

Miranda Kerr Images and Quotes

"On the 6th of January I gave birth to our beautiful little son Flynn. He weighed 9lb 12 ounces (a very healthy and big baby boy). I gave birth to him naturally; without any pain medication and it was a long, arduous and difficult labour, but Orlando was with me the whole time supporting and guiding me through it. I could not have done it without him."

--Quote and photo posted this week on Kerr's blog

(Photo by Orlando Bloom, Kerr's husband).

“For me, family is life....The decision to start one wasn’t complex at all....My career has been wonderful, but it’s not my life. I don’t feel pressure to get back to work....My goal involves a hammock, a vegetable patch, and a solar-powered house. And I hope to eventually get there.”

--Quoted in W Magazine, December 2010

Photographed by Patrick Demarchelier

"It's been a great experience modeling while pregnant because I'm really proud of my belly and I'm really happy about this moment in my life and I feel extremely blessed."

--Quoted in a video extra for Australian Vogue,

accompanying the cover story of the January 2011 issue of the magazine.

Photographed by Carlotta Moye

Birth Story of the Week: Keep Calm and Have a Baby

Today's birth story was sent to me by Madeline, who was determined to avoid induction with this, her second labor. This is such a wonderfully calm, confident, beautiful birth. I know you will be inspired by it!

--Leigh

Edward took after his big sister and arrived 12 days after his due date. That’s about where the similarities end with their birth stories. Lillian’s birth followed premature rupture of membranes, contractions beginning 12 hours later, induction beginning 12 hours after that (due to labour not establishing within 24hrs of membranes rupturing,) and she was born 20 hours after the induction commenced. I had drugs and lots of them. Even though I felt I had good care during Lillian’s birth, and it ended well, I knew that this time around I wanted things to be different and that meant trying to avoid another induction.

We chose to receive midwife care through the pregnancy, just as we had in Scotland. We were planning to give birth at the hospital’s birth centre, but when home birth was presented as an option the more we thought about it the more it seemed like the best choice for us.

We’re lucky that we have a public home birth program locally. Our midwife (MW) is part of a team of midwives including those based at the birth centre and the hospital. They all work together and she would be with us if the birth was at home or if we needed to go to the hospital. We were free to change our mind at any point.

So, decision made, we started to prepare for the home birth. We did a lot of reading about birth and home birth. I read a lot of birth stories and watched a lot of You Tube videos of home births. We prepared the birth space, and we attended a Calmbirth course. Calmbirth is aimed at people wanting to “take control of their own birthing experience” and teaches practical relaxation, visualisation and breathing techniques. Doing this course helped give me the confidence that we could do things differently this time.

By 37 weeks we were feeling pretty ready. We had the birth pool and had tested it out, we’d been in full nesting mode and after a trip to IKEA had new blinds, some new furniture, and new light shades. I finished work and enjoyed the first few weeks of maternity leave pottering about. The due date came and went. I began to worry that we would be heading towards another induction. I had acupuncture twice.

At 41 weeks we had a monitoring ultrasound and CTG to check bub was still ok in there. He was. A friend’s husband offered me chiropractic treatments daily and would send me off after each one saying he didn’t expect to see me again. I walked a lot. I listened to the Calmbirth visualisations (usually falling asleep during them but I’m sure my subconscious got the messages.) An appointment was made for another check-up ultrasound and CTG, we would have to discuss induction options/timeframes with an OB, an induction time was tentatively booked for 42 weeks. I could see all our home birth plans slipping away.

During dinner the night before that appointment I began to feel what I thought might be contractions. I didn’t tell Dave until after Lillian was in bed and I was feeling more sure myself. We went to bed at 8:30pm in the hopes of getting some rest if it was the real deal. I slept on and off until 2:30am when the contractions ramped up. I began to time them on my iPhone contraction app. They were about 10 minutes apart and lasting just over a minute. I managed them by kneeling on all fours in bed every time one came and tried to doze between them.

Between about 4am and 6am they spread out a bit more and I got some more sleep. Lillian woke up at 6am and Dave got us all breakfast while I had a shower and gathered last minute things together. The shower felt great during contractions but I tried not to stay in for too long because I knew we would need the hot water for the pool later. It was an unusually cool Spring morning but the day was beautiful.

We told Lil that I had pains in my tummy and asked her if she knew what that meant. She said, “The baby’s ready!” Dave called his parents who came and collected Lil at about 8am and she went off happily with them.

I was dealing with the contractions by kneeling (on Lil’s travel tent mattress) and leaning over the coffee table and concentrating on breathing in and out through my nose. At about 9am I called MW and gave her a heads up and also called our friend Xanthe who was coming to take photos. MW lives 5 mins away and after a short chat told us to call again when we felt we needed her to come round. Dave and I carried on. I put on the CD I had made of songs to labour too. This song in particular sticks in my mind because it was the first song and I noticed it every time the CD repeated.

Each time I had a contraction Dave would press and rub on my back or hold the hot water bottle there. I was feeling the contractions mostly in my back and the pressure helped. I ate some apple pieces and sipped water. I began to wonder how soon I could get into the pool. I didn’t want to get in too early in case it slowed things down. The contractions were coming less than 5 mins apart now and lasting up to 2 mins. Dave called MW back at 11:30am to ask about the pool and she said she would come around. We messaged Xanthe and told her to come when she was ready too.

MW arrived about 12 followed closely by Xanthe. MW checked the baby’s heartbeat and felt my belly to see what position the baby was in. She checked my blood pressure and all looked good. Dave began to fill the pool up and when it was ready I got in.

I lose track of time around this point. I laboured kneeling/squatting and leaning on the side of the pool. At some point Dave got in too so he could better reach my back for pressing during contractions. Xanthe took photos. MW did paperwork and checked the baby’s heartbeat every now and then. At some point Xanthe changed the CD and happened to put on the one I had made to use for Lil’s birth and never did. The contractions were getting quite strong but I was remaining almost silent through them by concentrating on the nose breathing.

All of a sudden I felt a pop and my waters broke. Dave said he heard a crack and thought he’d pressed on something too hard! MW checked the colour of the waters, which looked fine, and warned me that the contractions could get more intense now. I was no longer silent through them and it was hard to focus on breathing.

I writhed around trying to find a comfortable position. I told MW I couldn’t get comfortable and she said, “You won’t now until your baby gets here.” She suggested leaning against Dave and this was the most comfortable I could get. MW called the back-up midwife (BM) who arrived shortly after but I have no recollection of his arrival just that he was now there.

I began to feel a pushing/pressure sensation during the contractions and MW reminded me to stay open and not fight it. During each contraction she would say, “Open, open, breathe, bring the baby down.” I was pretty loud at this point and really had no idea how close I was to the end.

I was squeezing Dave’s hand with one hand and Xanthe’s with the other but I honestly didn’t know whose hand it was. It seemed pretty soon after that that they could see the head coming out and I remember Xanthe commenting on his black hair. The head came part way out during one contraction and then went back in again. I’m not sure how many times this happened and at the time wasn’t really aware that that’s what was happening. Eventually the head stayed out and MW told me I could reach down and feel it which I did briefly before the next contraction came and I pushed out the rest of his body.

MW and BM caught him, unwrapped his cord, and brought him up onto my chest. Relief! It was 3.06pm. He was making little grunting noises and MW told us to blow on his face to get him to cry. He began to cry and didn’t stop for some time.

I asked if he was a boy and we had a look and saw that he was. Lillian had been so adamant that the baby would be a boy that I would have been surprised to have a girl.

I held him in the pool while I delivered the placenta which came about 10 minutes later. Dave cut the cord. Edward had a bit of a go at breastfeeding but was still crying a lot. We were getting cool in the pool so MW and BM helped us get out. They set up the bed for us and checked to see if I would need stitches. I had a small but deep tear and MW started to get me set up for stitching. BM weighed and measured the baby and checked the placenta over.

While repositioning me on the bed for MW to stitch me, BM noticed that I was losing blood. When he massaged my stomach I haemorrhaged almost a litre of blood. He tried to get me to the bathroom to empty my bladder. I fainted halfway there and came to on the floor in the lounge room. BM gave me an injection of syntocinon to contract the uterus and MW put a canula in my hand in case I needed fluids. I lay on the floor for a while and MW stitched me while I was there and I held Edward. I then moved to the couch, ate a crumpet with jam and had some juice while holding Edward some more.

I was feeling pretty good now and attempted a trip to the bathroom with help from the midwives. I made it there and was going to take a shower when I again felt faint and had to lie down on the floor next to the birth pool. They decided to give me the saline drip and set it up right there. The pool had had the valve knocked open at some point and had begun to deflate. While I was lying next to it it was bumped and a wave of water filled the back room and bathroom all around me. Dave and Xanthe began to mop out the water and quickly emptied the pool with buckets. The midwives decided I would be better off crawling back to the bedroom in case I felt faint standing up. The drip came with us.

Things calmed down after this. I hung out on the bed with Xanthe who was holding Edward while I had the drip. The midwives bustled around doing their things and Dave made snacks and did some washing. He took it next door to ask if we could use their dryer and our neighbour gave him some biscuits she had baked when she heard me in labour at 3pm.

The drip finished, I fed Edward some more. MW and BM left and we ordered pizza to be delivered from the place just around the corner. Xanthe left after pizza and Dave and I settled in for our first (rather unsettled) night with the little man.

The labour and birth were everything I had hoped for, right down to the time of day and weather that I had visualised during the Calmbirth exercises. The haemorrhage drama was unexpected but it was handled quickly, I felt safe at all times and I recovered quickly.

I’d like to especially thank Xanthe for the amazing photos and for all her help.

Edward is 10 days old today and we’re getting used to being a family of four and getting to know this new little person.

Photos by Xanthe Roxburgh.

Guest Post: Anna from Rummey Bears on Pregnancy and Birth After Infertility

I am so honored to be guest posting on one of my favorite blogs – Marvelous Kiddo – as Leigh's birth story is what inspired me to have a home birth of my own. See those chubby little legs up there? Born in water on the living room floor.

Having an all natural birth was one of my proudest moments. Ever.

Before I fell pregnant with my daughter I had serious issues with my body. I had not had a period in over three years. Due to polycystic ovaries doctors told me I would have trouble falling pregnant. I went to see an endocrinologist and test after test could not explain why I was not menstruating. I was living in London at the time, working as a designer in a busy ad agency and although I tried to lead a healthy lifestyle my poor bones were stressed.

My partner and I decided to move back home to Australia. I felt relaxed as soon as I stepped off the plane and within 4 days we had conceived. I had no idea I was pregnant until I was almost 8 weeks. Not having periods was normal but my sudden distaste for coffee had to be questioned. Not to mention a huge love for ketchup like I have never, ever felt before.

We were over the moon but part of me was terrified that something might still go wrong. It took a while to feel relaxed about the pregnancy. My partner dropped the hint a few times about home birth, and somehow I stumbled upon Leigh's birth story on here. That was the start of me beginning to believe in my own body. I read all of Ina May. Sheila Kitzinger. Michel Odent. I surrounded myself with positive tales. I started seeing an osteopath, who believed my lower back was so rigid I would have trouble birthing. She kept this to herself and continued to treat me. There was also concern that my blood pressure was so low I may pass out. I was never afraid of pain, but I was concerned about my endurance levels.

My labour went for 7 hours. I surrendered and trusted my body would know what to do. It did. There were no complications.

P.S. (From Leigh): Anna is one of those people that, although she lives half-a-world away, I feel such a strong connection with. I adore her blog, and I hope we (and our kiddos) can meet one day! Read Rummey Bears for lovely, honest reflections on life as a new mother.

Mama Crush

Because, seriously. How. Cute. Is. She.

Also, probably in labor right now! Follow the updates on her home birth via Twitter.

About What Gisele Said...

Photo by Cedric Buchet from the September 2010 issue of Harper's Baazar UK,

via TheFashionSpot

If you've been anywhere near a computer this week, you've probably already heard about the comments made in the current issue of Harper's Bazaar UK by supermodel Gisele Bundchen. The fashion icon -- who has been speaking out for months now about her pain-free, home water birth, her strong belief in the importance of breastfeeding, and even her practice of natural infant hygiene -- did not mince words in the Harper's article:

"Some people here [in the US] think they don't have to breastfeed, and I think 'Are you going to give chemical food to your child when they are so little?' I think there should be a worldwide law, in my opinion, that mothers should breastfeed their babies for six months."

And...cue the uproar! It seems that with that one short soundbite Gisele managed to incite the rage of all womankind. When I first read about her statement, on Celebrity Baby Blog, I was shocked by the tenor of the reader's comments, which ranged from eye-popping rage to over-the-top hostility. Here is a small sampling of the negativity spewing from that one blog (countless other sites I've looked at since have comment treads running in a similar vein):

"CHILL OUT GISELE, YOU JUDGEMENTAL B!@$#"

"Never in my life have I posted on something like this before…but boy did she compel me to do so. All I can say is I do not like her or her comments. She really needs to THINK before she makes stupid remarks."

"So let me get this straight. She gave birth at home and it was pain free. She was modelling 6 weeks later and now she tells us that we should breast feed “by law” for 6 months. How full of shit is she."

"Cracks me up when women who have one infant think they are parenting experts and know just how every other mother should parent their children."

"I hope for her sake that she doesn’t have to experience what it’s like to not be able to have a natural birth or not be able to breastfeed in the future, but if she does have to go through it then maybe she’ll gain a bit more compassion for the rest of us. Until then maybe she should keep her unenlightened comments to herself."

"Gisele has had one baby for a few months and she is no expert. I find her to be very know it all and she needs to quit doing interviews."

"Why stop at six months, Gisele? Make it 12 months, at least. And put some force behind your law. Let’s take these babies from their moms. And lock the moms up. I don’t know why I read this stuff. Gisele sounds really impressed with herself and incredibly insufferable and ignorant. Breastfeeding is great, why not just leave it at that? Or find ways to support women who are able to breastfeed? Here is a better idea. How about a law against stupid celebrities."

"She’s just a pretty face that needs to keep her big fat mouth shut.... She should stick to modeling and stop giving parenting advice. It’s not like she knows what it’s like in the real world anyway!!!"

"This woman is ignorant and arrogant. New mothers around the world experience enough guilt, shame and pressure without having this nitwit preach on about something she clearly doesn’t understand well enough. Stop making it worse for new mothers!"

Then they lit into her on The View:

Meanwhile, on her personal blog, Gisele responded to the furor:

"My intention in making a comment about the importance of breastfeeding has nothing to do with the law. It comes from my passion and beliefs about children. Becoming a new mom has brought a lot of questions, I feel like I am in a constant search for answers on what might be the best for my child. It’s unfortunate that in an interview sometimes things can seem so black and white. I am sure if I would just be sitting talking about my experiences with other mothers, we would just be sharing opinions. I understand that everyone has their own experience and opinions and I am not here to judge. I believe that bringing a life into this world is the single most important thing a person can undertake and it can also be the most challenging. I think as mothers we are all just trying our best."

Melissa Whitworth, who wrote the article in Harper's Bazaar UK, got into the mix as well with a defense of Gisele that was published in The Telegraph:

"Gisele has always been extremely passionate about a variety of issues – environmental preservation, mental and physical health and motherhood. And now it seems we can add breastfeeding to that list.

The bit that outraged the mummy brigade was where she said it should be “a law” for mothers to breastfeed for at least six months. “How dare someone so beautiful and rich make us feel bad about ourselves?”, they shrieked.

I can understand why. Gisele has bounced back to her pre-motherhood weight, but that surely is just a freak of genetics. She finds breastfeeding to be easy. But we all know mothers who don’t, despite their best efforts, and thus have to rely on formula. In America, where maternity leave lasts all of five minutes and employers think they are being incredibly kind to provide office “lactation rooms”, six months is an impossible length of time. Which is exactly what Gisele is trying to highlight. Gisele knows only too well that not every mother can enjoy the freedoms she does. And she is not a politician. So hold on a sec: the Gisele Breastfeeding Rule is not waiting to be signed into law. She is just a passionate new mother with an opinion.

I found her to be warm, maternal, energetic, nurturing and passionate – quite the opposite to the steely glamour queen we see swaggering down the runway and gracing the world’s press today…

The resulting outcry shows just how passionately women feel about the issues Gisele has raised. So let’s celebrate the fact that she’s made us talk about the pros and cons of breastfeeding, and not hang the supermodel out to dry."

Whew. It was all enough to make one's head spin (I love the fact that the bruhaha was coincidentally occurring during World Breastfeeding Week)!

One of the things that really struck me about this whole controversy is how it highlighted the fact that it is so rare for a big celebrity to speak so passionately and candidly about the issues of breastfeeding and home birth. Certainly Gisele and her husband, Tom Brady, occupy a much higher echelon of mainstream fame than anyone else I can think of who speaks out about these topics. And as you can see from the backlash to her comments, Gisele's fame is actually a blessing and a curse -- although they reach a huge audience, her views are being discounted by many as the airheaded musings of a spoiled rich girl. I hope she continues to speak out, because as frustrating as it is to hear the words of the Gisele-haters, I am also sure that she is inspiring and educating multitudes of people to think about these issues for the first time. If she continues to be vocal about her passions while advocating for the rights of women and babies and raising her children on a natural, gentle path, her views will become impossible to discount.

I, for one, look forward to hearing what she has to say next.

Lady's Hands, Lion's Heart

I have been wanting to write this post for weeks, ever since I tore through a copy of Lady's Hands, Lion's Heart: A Midwife's Saga, which a friend gave me for Mother's Day. What took me so long? Mainly the fact that I LOVED the book so much that I've been waiting for a chance to write my detailed impressions and share it with you in a way that remotely does it justice. Trust me, my posts tend to be short and sweet for a reason: I have two little kids and usually I'm doing well if I have two minutes and two fingers free to hit the "post" button. And it's getting harder the older the littlest one gets (as of this week he's walking! Which is great, but dude, any hope I once had of writing deep pontifications on this blog is about to fly out the window while I spend my days chasing after my very fast, very climb-y, tiny boys).

So, here I am, my children both asleep cuddled up to Taro in the family bed, and I'm up late to quickly tell you about a book you HAVE to read.

Lady's Hands, Lion's Heart is Carol Leonard's memoir of becoming a midwife in New Hampshire in the mid-1970's, and it is as juicily, beautifully, wonderfully written as any tale I have read in recent years. The fact that it happens to incorporate tons of amazing, touching, jaw-dropping birth stories makes it all the more enjoyable for someone like me to read because I am especially interested in the topic of birth -- however, the book is so compellingly crafted that it should appeal just as much to those who have never read or cared about the relatively esoteric topic of midwifery. It is simply an amazing story, by any standard, and a seriously engaging, well-told one at that.

The book weaves together three distinct threads; the author's personal journey of becoming a foremother of the modern midwifery movement, the history of the charged political atmosphere and multitude of changes that happened during the 1970's as home birth had a bit of a renaissance, and a passionate and tragic love story for the ages.

Ms. Leonard's spirited voice propels the reader through the chapters with vibrancy and wit, never failing to convey the excitement, suspense, joy and frustration of her work. Her story brought me to tears as often as it made me laugh out loud. Leonard's words deftly maneuver between self-deprecatingly slapstick humor to deep spiritual revelations without ever skipping a beat. Her deep dedication to the women and babies she served through a profession marginalized by the medical establishment and the government is palpable on every page, and should be an inspiration to anyone who values birth freedom and the right to give birth outside of the hospital.

I could go on, but I really just want to say one more thing and go to bed: Read it. You'll be so very glad you did.

Victory!

Photos from the Free Our Midwives Photo Project.

I am beyond excited to share the news that the Midwifery Modernization Act passed in the State Assembly and Senate this week, making home birth legal in New York again! Read more about this exciting news, as well as more information about the amazing grass-roots campaign that resulted in this exciting triumph for birth rights, at FreeOurMidwives.org.

Midwifery Modernization Act

Friends, I have been remiss in posting timely updates on the situation regarding the legality of home birth in New York. I just received an email from my homebirthing friend, Nancy, alerting me that a very important piece of legislation is actually coming up for vote today at 11:30 am! The Midwifery Modernization Act, if passed, will eliminate the need for midwives to have Written Practice Agreements with MD's, therefore enabling them to freely attend to their clients without having to bow to their competitors. I am sorry to be posting this at the last minute, but if you can take a moment to call one or more of the following lawmakers to express your support of the MMA, that would be a huge help!

Thank you for supporting a woman's right to give birth where she chooses, with the care provider she prefers!

Birth Story of the Week: The Home Birth of Oskar

This birth story is one of my favorites. It was sent to me by my friend, Nancy Park, and is such a profound, spiritual, poetic telling of bringing her son, Oskar, into the world. Today is Oskar's first birthday, so it is particularly fitting that the story be posted here now, in celebration of that milestone. Happy Birthday, Oskar! And thank you, Nancy, for sharing such an inspiring story with us.

--Leigh

Oskar, you were born on the last day of May, so beautifully and powerfully at home in the water. There are so many parts to your story, to the story of us. This is the one about your incarnation. There are others about our first meeting, about how you were foretold.

I thought your coming was imminent every Saturday for three weeks before you arrived. One of those mornings, I woke up and everything seemed brighter and more beautiful. The light streaming in from the skylights. Your daddy’s face. Everything seemed to shimmer. We went out for flowers and candles and snacks to celebrate your coming. But you did not arrive that day.

We set up an altar for your birth. On it, Sappho’s wood Mother sculpture in the center, surrounded by a circle of stones for the eight directions. Also, the gold bracelet your grandparents gave you, the root chakra gemstone crown, the celestite I dedicated to you, a large rose quartz, the magical candle, and seeds blessed by Amma. The altar cloth came specially from Avalon for you.

Your halmoni came to New York for your birth. I knew I would want my mom with me when you arrived. For many weeks you hovered on the verge of being born, but you held on inside. So she tried to coax you out with some acupuncture needles. The room filled up with a new scent; she said she could smell baby. So we smelled you before we first touched you.

Then, early on an enchanted Sunday morning, bloody show and broken waters. A last hurrah for daddy and me. We waited for contractions, but at noon, everything was still quiet. Anna came over and we had more acupuncture. When she did the tree of life on my sacrum, I could feel your spirit coming in through the needles and filling my womb and your little body. It was so beautiful. I had a first, mild contraction as I was getting off the table. The three of us hung out and ate strawberries.

At four thirty, the first strong contraction overcame me, like lightening from my liver to the arch of my right foot. I had three in the next hour. Daddy went out for snacks. I found your halmoni in the garden of the River Cafe, and we waited in line for pizza at Grimaldi’s. Halmoni and I laughed and cried and held hands and hugged in line, and when a rush came through me, I just rocked back and forth and walked a little. The line was long and so was the wait, so we didn’t get very far when I decided I should go home to labor. I put on some music. Perfect Day by Lou Reed. That was around six at night. I called Anna, and she came back over. I called Therese, who we planned to have as our doula: I need to laugh, please come, I said.

With each contraction, I climbed up on the couch on all fours, and halmoni’s hands were kneading my sacrum, doing just the right thing to help with the intense rushes. Anna gave me cool cloths for my forehead (your daddy’s idea!). Daddy was making the pool. I made lots of loud, deep lows. I paced the living room in between.

I asked daddy to start filling the birth pool. Really? he said. YES! I answered. He started kettles on the stove to boil and pumping up the tub. But he was right, we expected maybe we’d be doing this for twelve or more hours, and we didn’t want to start too soon…

Kristen, our midwife, still hadn’t replied to our texts and phone messages, so we tried her again at another (the right!) number. She picked up! How far apart are the contractions? We didn’t know, so we hung up, and halmoni started keeping track.

7:15
7:20 - 2 mins
7:25 - 1 - 7:26
7:29 - 2 - 7:31
7:34 - 1 - 7:35
7:37 - 1 - 7:39
7:42 - 1 - 7:43
7:45 - 3 - 7:48
7:49 - 1 - 7:50

We called Kristen back!

Then, I felt you kick off my liver and jacknife yourself into a downward dive. You were so strong even then! So I wanted to push! But Kristen wasn’t here yet, and we weren’t ready to deliver you by ourselves. So I jumped into the pool instead, and instantly, I felt so good! Bliss.

It was getting dark, and the house felt quiet. Someone lit candles. I pushed and roared few times in the pool. The water was warm, all was perfect.

Then, Kristen came in. She was amazing. She came in quietly, like she was gliding, put her things down, came over to the pool. She did not make a sound. Everything and everyone was quiet. The whole house was hushed. She used the doppler to find your heart beat. It was so beautiful, strong, and steady in the silence. Still no words. She watched me push a couple times more. She felt for your head and she found it. Finally, I asked her how things looked. She said you would be born in a few minutes.

I panicked! I wasn’t sure! Was I ready?! A baby!

It wasn't for a few whole minutes before I realized, too late! Here you are! And you’re coming!

So I decided, and I pushed for real. Real hard. Daddy came into the pool. In between, I rested my head on his knee. It was so nice. But there was not enough space, so he got out. And then everything happened so fast. He went up to the room to dry off, but I shouted DAN! and he ran down, and so he was there when I pushed from everything I had, and still it wasn’t enough, and even though I was out of breath to push with, I kept pushing from a dark place where I found my power lives, and ROARed, and I could feel your head passing through.

Do you want to touch your baby? Kristen asked. She guided my hand down, and I felt your sweet, soft, hairy head for the first time. It was the nicest thing I have ever touched.

I pushed more and more and more, pushing myself inside out and pushing all twenty and a half inches and seven pounds of miraculous you out into the water. Kristen said, Reach down and take your baby. And I did!

I swooped you up from between my legs and sat back and suddenly there you were on my chest. I held you close, and there we were in the birth pool, soaking in a soup full of warm water, amniotic fluid, blood, saliva, a little vomit, a little poop, but no pee. You were so alive and present and vocal and sweet. Your beauty broke my heart. Daddy’s too.

You were just born, but somehow, you felt so old and powerful.

It was just after nine that night.

Birth Story of the Week: Experiencing the Universality of Birth

I was very moved by this birth story, submitted by Jesse of Perfect Calm. It is not only an exciting and inspiring home birth tale -- it also is a beautiful reflection on the universality of birth and the way that birth and death are similarly mysterious and unpredictable.

--Leigh

Everybody was born. There is not one person on this earth who did not experience birth. The hipster at Intelligentsia pouring warm, creamy milk prettily into my decaf latte. The Dy-Dee Diaper delivery guy. Dorothy Height. Ron Paul. Me. I think about this a lot.

When I was pregnant I read “Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth.” Ina May Gaskin is the quintessential midwife and she is one of my heroes. I read that book and the birth stories in it with a great hunger. How will this go for me? Will I do it well? It was a bit like wondering how I would fare if I threw myself into a raging river, having been told I’d be fine if I just relax and let the waters take me. I read about painless births, back labor (one of the most painful kind), varying descriptions of “rushes” from gentle to fierce, relief for the pushing to start, crowning and the slippery body which follows, and so much more. I enjoyed a sense of sisterhood with those women. For as many times as I opened that book, it made me cry. Well, now I have my own story to share…

On a Monday evening in January I started to feel crampy. I was 38 weeks, 6 days pregnant. I didn’t really take the feeling too seriously. But it seriously kept me awake that night. I was tossing and turning (pregnant lady style, it involved a lot of arm strength and an embarrassing array of pillows) and afraid of keeping Isaiah awake. So, at some point I moved to the living room. I managed to get some rest but not much.

The next day we happened to have an appointment with our midwives Shelly and Seannie. Although I was 1cm dilated and 50% effaced, they assured me we could yet be days even weeks away. But they did encourage me to get as much rest as I could given my sleepless night, and as we passed through the door on our way out, Seannie did say, “Maybe you’ll be calling us tonight!” I was pretty sure this baby wasn’t coming for a while. I somehow didn’t see even the intense house scrubbing sessions I had recently been engaged in as a sign.

That night, I felt the cramping again. Awake by myself on the couch, I started timing these cramps on my iPhone (is there an app for that?) They were pretty regular. Five or so minutes apart. By 2am I could no longer manage them on my own so I returned to our room and got Isaiah up. We went through them together for the next hour and by 3:30am Isaiah decided we should call Shelly. I remember feeling sort of silly. This was early labor, and here we are waking our dear midwife to tell her. But the numbers don’t lie. Five minutes apart lasting one minute, for one hour. Shelly listened to me go through a contraction and suggested we go back to bed, try and sleep through them and to check in a little later. Sleep was simply not an option for me. Lying down was hardly an option. So at 5:30 we called again and she had us go for a walk. She said walk for 30 minutes. It was raining that morning. I love the rain in Los Angeles.

Bundled up and tucked under umbrellas, we ventured out onto our street. It was hard, really hard but so peaceful to be outside in the rain, the earthy smell rising up even here. With each contraction I had to stop and just breath through it. I also had to pee, which I did. Every time. We were giddy I think, in an early morning sort of way.

By 10:30am Shelly felt it was time she come and check me. At this point I was feeling a bit troubled. If this was early labor, I was doomed. This was hard, almost unmanageable. I told Isaiah I felt like a wimp. Isaiah is an amazing birth partner. He was excited, energized, happily making me eggs, getting the camera ready, and keeping our space light. As we waited for Shelly, we sat on the edge of our bed and dutifully snipped the tiny beaded bracelets we had been wearing since our baby shower in Berkeley. Our dear friend Aleishall made them, and everyone there had held them in their hands and said a well wish to us for a good birth before she put them on us. We were to snip them off in labor, to release everyone’s good intentions for us.

Shelly arrived wearing scrub pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. This meant business (she is usually adorned in snazzy dresses and shimmery eye shadows). Immediately I felt her welcomed force. Strong, beautiful, wise woman. Catcher of thousands and thousands of babies. Kali.

Before she set up everything she wanted to check me to see where we were at. Please, please, please, I thought. Let me be at least 3 cm. To my utter delight I was 8 CENTIMETERS DILATED. This was it! This was labor! I was doing it! HAD been doing it all along! My relief gave me a surge of much needed energy. As Shelly set up in our bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for each contraction to take me. I would stand up with each one, and yes, pee. My temperature suddenly dipped. I felt very cold and shaky so Isaiah ran me a bath. It was the greatest bath of my life. I never wanted to get out. Robyn, Shelly’s assistant arrived soon after so we were all 4 in the bathroom as I continued to labor. They would take turns pouring water over my belly. Shelly checked me again and asked if it was OK with me to break my water bag. I felt a small relief of pressure, a whoosh. And from there the contractions got different. I had been very vocal going through them (I wondered if the neighbors could hear) but now I was really using my voice. Deep, guttural noises came from me. Time to push.

During my pregnancy, I managed to avoid getting attached to any expectations I had about labor and delivery. We were planning a home birth, but I well knew we could transfer to the hospital for a number of reasons and I was OK with that. And even within the home birth scenario, my mind remained fairly open to however it was my body was going to accomplish this task. There were however, two things I thought I could count on. The first was pushing…

Pushing didn’t turn out to be the great relief I was anticipating (finally I could exert some force, do something about the pain). No. Pushing was absolutely THE hardest thing I have ever done in all my life. It took going through several contractions for me to learn how to do it right. And then getting myself to do it right was another thing. I was tired. Robyn gave me spoonfuls of honey. Isaiah assured me things were progressing. Eventually when the baby started to crown a little, he would look and say, “There’s a human in there!” Shelly sat before me, calm and strong, keeping me focused. But I was exhausted and probably just hanging on. I was having a ton of back pain because of the positioning of the baby’s head which didn’t allow for any rest or relief between contractions. It took everything I had to push that baby down and it seemed to be taking awhile.

In fact it took four hours. That’s right, I was pushing for 4 hours. Finally the head crowned and after a few pushes it was out. I can do this, I can do this, I kept saying. So now for that final push where the rest of the body slips out like nothing. This was the other expectation that crept in. I couldn’t have imagined in a hundred years what would happen next.

The head was out, and the baby wasn’t budging no matter how hard I pushed. The cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck, too tight for Shelly to un-loop. I heard her say, “I have to cut the cord.” From this moment on, I went a bit numb. Robyn had the sealed bag in her hands with the clamp and the scissors inside and she was frantically trying to tear it open. But her gloved hands were slippery for all the almond oil compresses she had been applying to me (maybe one of the glorious reasons I didn’t tear). She couldn’t get it open, and Shelly was saying Just open it! OPEN IT! Then came Isaiah in a calm, even tone, “Use the scissors next to the bed.” The scissors, the little pair of scissors we had used to cut our bracelets off, saved the day. The sealed bag was opened and the cord was cut. “Now Jesse, you have to push as HARD AS YOU CAN,” Robyn demanded. All I was thinking was the baby was no longer connected to me and the oxygen supply. So push I did. But still nothing. Then I heard Shelly say, “The shoulders are stuck.”

Shoulder dystocia. I had read about this in all my books as one of those rare things that hardly ever happens but when it does it can be one of the most compromising situations. But before I could fully go there, Shelly was reaching in folding the baby’s shoulders in towards the chest, pulling him out and handing him to me.

The next minute was not frantic as I remember it. But it was essential. We all rubbed him (I had seen him and said, “He’s a boy”) telling him we loved him and that he just needed to give a good cough or a good cry. He had been purple and blue, but pinked up pretty quickly. He was limp at first, but not for long and his eyes were open the whole time. They put an oxygen mask on him (which he kept pushing away) and Shelly suctioned him first with a bulb syringe. He was breathing slightly. His heartbeat never faltered. She took him and gave him a few pumps of CPR then used a long tube down his throat to suction from her mouth.

Finally he gave some small cries. He was fine. He was beautiful. He was big. 8 lbs 4 oz. His lungs sounded clear, his clavicle was intact and his shoulders didn’t become dislocated which are the two things that usually happen with dystocia. The relief I felt is indescribable. I was overwhelmed with joy and so proud of us. I was (eternally) grateful to Shelly for her amazing abilities, to Isaiah for raging down the river with me with such ease, and to Robyn for holding me in confidence. I was also so proud of Asa. As hard as it was for me Shelly said, it was ten times harder for him. Although we had some difficulty, we had a successful home birth and our sweet, precious son was finally here. I never felt in danger, I knew we were in the best of hands. Recounting all of this has made me tremble. Birth and Death are… well, they don’t seem so different from one another anymore.