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Archive for the ‘Birth Story’ Category

One year ago today….

Tuesday, February 14th, 2012

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I got the best Valentine present ever…my son!

When I first announced my pregnancy, of course everyone asked “when are you due?” My vague reply was always “early February” as I didn’t want to give an exact due date knowing that babies arrive when they are ready to be born. My little sister said to me “Oh, maybe you will have a Valentine’s Day baby!”. “Um, probably not…that would be an awfully l-o-n-g pregnancy”.

However on February 13, when baby still had not arrived, having a Valentine’s baby suddenly became a real possibility. I was 42 weeks pregnant at that point. Yep, 42 weeks! Although I was not interested in any interventions to get labor started; I believed baby would pick the perfect day to be born! However on Febrary 13 we decided to prepare a Birth Day party for baby. It was more or less a distraction for me, but also the opportunity to send baby a message that we were ready to celebrate his/her birth. We went to the dollar store so Jeremiah and Abraham could pick out birthday decorations. We decorated the house that afternoon.

Then I wrote baby a Birth Day invitation:

Dear Baby-

I wonder when I will be able to hold you. I ask you gently and lovingly what it is you are waiting for? Is there something I can do to help ease you into our family? Please know that we are all here and ready to surround you with our love. You already have such a special place in our family and in our hearts.

I have truly cherished having you in my womb. Our time together in utero has been a blessed gift in my life. You (yes, YOU) have made me feel like a beautiful, strong, capable, vibrant woman. I am full of gratitude for the precious connection we have had throughout this pregnancy.

I believe waiting patiently for you will make our first earthside moments together a truly amazing experience. I believe waiting patiently for you will only deepen our relationship and teach me to be the mother you need.

I honor that you will arrive in your own time and in your own way. My arms, my love, my affection, and my happiness are here for you when you are ready to accept them. Know that I am ready to hold you close and nourish you with my milk. Are you ready to take that journey with me? I invite you into my arms and wait with serenity for you to accept that invitation. I trust you to decide when the time is right.

Later that evening Buzz and I were playing scrabble when active labor started. I decided to make baby a Birth Day cake…mostly as an activity to keep me busy as labor progressed.

After a total of 11 hours of labor and two hours of pushing,

baby boy #3 was born into his daddy’s loving hands.

Surrounded in love by my loves

Holding my sweet Valentine!

I never, ever expected to be pregnant for 42 weeks, especially as a third time mom. I joke that perhaps I enjoyed Isaiah’s pregnancy a little too much and that is why we spent extra time together. I also feel like his birth was an opportunity to put my beliefs into practice. I proclaim to trust nature and it’s design for pregnancy and birth…however allowing labor to start spontaneously would be a testament to that. I am glad I waited as I could not have picked a better birthday for my sweet boy than a day meant to cherish and celebrate love! Happy Birthday to my Izzy and to all the beautiful Valentine’s babies out there!!

Tags: birth, home birth, post due date babies, pregnancy, siblings at birth, starting labor spontaneoulsy, valentine s day, water birth
Posted in Birth, Birth Story, Sarah | 5 Comments »

Our Attempted Homebirth: Part 2

Thursday, January 12th, 2012

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continued from Part 1

Goodbye Homebirth

It was my decision. It was not a state of emergency. The midwife believed in trusting my instinct. If I felt the need to go to the hospital, then we should go. But was it instinct? Was it the delusional state of mind I was in from lack of sleep, a long labor, and feeling emotionally beaten? I needed to hear you CAN do this. You are STRONG. Why did I forget my birth affirmations in that moment?

Buzz hurriedly grabbed the few things he could think of that we might need/want at the hospital. We had not even fathomed going to the hospital; having a hospital bag packed was not part of our birth plan. We got in the car and drove away from our home. With our house shrinking in the distance, so did my confidence.

Goodbye homebirth. Hello hospital.

The Hospital: 36 hours into labor
Upon arriving at the hospital paperwork was thrust upon me. I did my best to complete it while crawling around the lobby floor trying to manage the pain. A wheelchair arrived to take me to the delivery room. “I want to walk…walking helps” Sorry m’am. Hospital rules, you gotta sit. So I sat. Thus begins the loss of control.

The delivery room nurses required me lay down in the bed on my back to they could administer an IV, pitocin, blood pressure monitor, antibiotics for the GBS, and a fetal monitoring device. I was bombarded with questions like an interrogation. However, I was in a poor state of mind to respond to most of these questions. I had lost all sense of time. My memory of the last few days was dulled by the more immediate need to give birth.

Chained to the bed I was stripped of all pain management techniques that had been working for me at home. I couldn’t sway back and forth, I couldn’t rock on my hands and knees, I couldn’t have Buzz poor hot water over my back. In effort to gain some way to alleviate the pain, I kept lying to the nurse that I had to use the bathroom just so I could get up and move. I would hide in the bathroom as long as I could; squatting, moaning, and rocking. This trick did not last long because the head nurse came in and told me I needed to stay in the bed so they could continuously monitor the baby. At that point, I did not know what to do. I just laid there thrashing back and forth in the bed while choking back tears. I felt delusional. HELP ME PLEASE I wanted to scream. But I just laid there: scared, confused, and alone. Funny thing, I wasn’t alone. There were various people in and out of the room, asking me questions, hooking me up to things, manipulating my body. So why did I feel so alone? Buzz, who had been my support while laboring at home, was not with me. Yes he was physically with me, but not emotionally, not spiritually like he had been at home. Our rhythm, our connectedness, our confidence had been destroyed. He was just as terrified as me and looked upon me with helplessness in his eyes. He did not know his role in this strange environment and no one helped him define it. So he was pushed away to the side as a mere observer.

Dysfunctional Labor I heard them say. Dysfunctional Labor they wrote in my medical chart. What does that mean? Why won’t they stop saying that? With every new person that walked into the room they repeated it…Dysfunctional Labor. It echoed in my mind, my heart, and my soul…my body is dysfunctional.

At that point, my spirit was broken. I gave up all hope of the peaceful, natural birth I had desired. I agreed to the epidural. I cried as the words came out of my mouth. I felt like I was saying “I am failure…I am weak…I am powerless”. I felt defeated. I had labored over 40 hours without using medication for pain. I was dilated to 9 centimeters and had been for a couple hours by the time I got the epidural. Just one more little centimeter to go…and I couldn’t do it. Some call it dysfunctional labor.

Push 10, 9, 8, ….Breathe…Repeat
This went on for a total five and a half hours. Pushing and pushing with all my might. With every ounce of my being I pushed. I wanted nothing more than to see our baby, hear our baby cry, hold our baby, and nurse our baby. So I pushed and pushed. At first everyone kept saying “oh you’re so close” “a few more pushes and you’ll meet your baby”…but then a few hours went by. They stopped saying soon and started wondering “what’s wrong?” I felt like I had been running a marathon and could see the finish line ahead, but every time I got close to it, someone would move it a few steps beyond my reach. It was an endless marathon and I was chasing the finish line. Different doctors came in to assist me. People I had never met before. I looked up and counted 16 people in the room.

One doctor came in with a vacuum extractor. I think he asked me my permission first, but I don’t recall. Had I actually been in a position to make a rationale decision, I would have declined this device. Thankfully the hospital had a 3 pop-off policy. If the extractor pops off three times they must discontinue using it. Two of the pop-offs occurred because the bed was jerked during pushing. I naively thought it was somehow part of the ejection technique; jerk the bed while I pushed and they sucked out the baby. But then the doctor starts shouting Who is moving the bed…stop moving the bed! A nurse replied It’s her, it’s her knees. They had told me to push my knees as far back as I could so I obliged which resulted in accidentally hitting the bed controls with my knees…oops!

I could hear the baby’s heartbeat; a sweet, rhythmic, beautiful, and soothing sound. It was strong. I focused on it to give me strength. It helped me feel connected to our baby. But then the heartbeat started to dip, just a little, but enough to cause concern. They put an oxygen mask over my face. I felt suffocated by it. I could not hear with it on my face. I kept trying to push it away. I didn’t understand why they insisted on putting it on my face. It’s not for you…it’s for the baby my midwife explained. Deep breaths she encouraged…she breathed with me and counted in my ear to help me establish a rhythm. She held the oxygen to my face while I pushed, but took it off between pushes so I could hear the baby’s heartbeat.

Hello Sarah, I am Dr. XXXX. You have been pushing for a long time now. I am willing to keep going for a short while longer and then we need to discuss other options. These were the kind, but firm words of the head obstetrician as he entered the room. I knew what he meant by “other options”. They were mentally preparing me for a surgical birth; a Csection. No one would actually say the word aloud to me, but there it lingered in the air as a possibility. My midwife whispered in my ear this is it Sarah…give it all you got…you can do this. I forgot about the 16 people in the room. I forgot about the last 51.5 hours. I will not have a Cesction…I WILL deliver vaginally. For the next half hour the only voice I heard was Dr. XXXX; it was as if he was narrating my birth. His words and his hands guided my baby on its final journey from my womb into the world.

IT’S A BOY!
A final push and the baby emerged. Everyone cheered. They were cheering for us. It was a celebration. They see babies born everyday and yet genuinely cheered at the birth of our son. I needed that. I needed to be surrounded with the sounds of triumph.

I stretched my arms forward to reach for our son. Dr. XXXX tried to pass me our son, but couldn’t. He cord was too short and I could not be reached. Buzz cut the cord and placed our son on my chest for a few seconds. Hi baby. I’m your mommy. You know me. You know my voice. I love you. It’s okay. You are here. We are here. You are okay. He was covered in meconium and the nurses wanted to check him. They took him from me all too quickly. Wait, bring him back…I need to hold him. He needs me to hold him. But I still had a placenta to birth and stitches to receive. Once again feeling powerless I laid there watching nurses handle our baby.

Can we go home now? I asked as Dr. XXXX stitched my episiotomy. This was a genuine question. I wanted nothing more than to spend our babymoon as we intended…in the privacy and comfort of our own home. They laughed at me. You just birthed a baby! they exclaimed. I know, but we planned on being at home I protested. Hospital policy…blah, blah, blah…monitor baby….blah, blah, blah…was their reply. I contemplated checking out Against Medical Advice, but after 52 hours of labor did not have any fight left in me. So we stayed at the hospital for the required 36 hours.

After thoughts: The fourth trimester
At my six week post partum visit to see Dr. XXXX he routinely inquired about birth control. I politely declined stating that we hoped to conceive again soon. He did not know of our struggle with infertility or our desire to have a large family. It dawned on me that he actually knew very little about me beyond what can be found in my medical chart, yet had shared one of the most precious, intimate moments of our lives with us…welcoming our son into this world. His hands were the very first to touch Jeremiah, not daddy’s. Dr. XXXX then asked if we would consider a homebirth for future pregnancies. He asked as Jeremiah laid across my chest while he conducted a routine vaginal exam. Would I consider another homebirth?

A year later I am still trying to answer that question for myself. If we should be so blessed to conceive again, I am convinced that birthing in the hospital will not allow me the birth experience I desire. I fear the spiral of medical interventions that may ensue in a hospital birth. I did not like spending the first hours, days after birth in the hospital. However I do not think I can relive the emotional vulnerability that I experienced in this birth. I could not sustain another attempted homebirth.

-Sarah

PS. This birth story was written during the first year os my son’s life in 2007. I have since had two more sons who were born at home in the water.

Tags: fetal monitoring, homebirth, hospital transfer, infertility, midwife, pain management techniques
Posted in Birth, Birth Story, Labor, New Mothers | 3 Comments »

Our Attempted Homebirth: Part One

Wednesday, January 11th, 2012

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The original title of this birth story was My Failed Homebirth…then later switched to My Unsuccessful Homebirth…to the current title of Our Attempted Homebirth. I think the title revisions reflect a process of healing. When I look at my son, how could I think anything about him was a failure, particularly his journey into our arms? It was not the journey we had hoped for him, but it is his journey nonetheless.

February 2006: Two lines, What Does That Mean?
After almost three years of trying to conceive, countless negative pregnancy test, and endless tears, we decided to pursue international adoption. This was a difficult path for me as it involved grieving the loss of carrying a child, birthing a child, and nursing a child. I shared our struggles with few others, but selectively shared with those individuals who could provide the support and strength I needed to survive infertility. A wise woman asked me, “Is your goal to become pregnant or to become a mother?” Those were the exact words I needed to hear and reflect upon. Some deep soul searching led me to redefine motherhood for myself and embrace adoption as our path to parenthood. We began to research agencies.

We selected an agency and made plans to attend an adoption information seminar they were hosting. That evening as I showered and got ready for the meeting, I decided I would take one last pregnancy test, have one last good cry over it, and then forge ahead leaving infertility behind us. After waiting two minutes, I checked the test. One dark line and a second very faint, but visible line appeared. I walked out of the bathroom leaving the test on the counter. I was in a state of shear disbelief and shock. I paced back and forth for a half hour until Buzz arrived home. When Buzz walked in I said go into the bathroom, look on the counter, and tell me what you see. A few seconds later he comes running out there is two lines…there is never two lines…what does that mean? Cautiously, quietly, as if saying it aloud might erase the second line, I whispered we’re pregnant. Then in that moment, as if a dam holding back all the emotion finally collapsed, I flooded the silence with tears… overwhelming tears of joy… We’re pregnant!

A Blissful 40 Weeks
I loved being pregnant. I loved everything about it. I loved my growing belly. I loved feeling the baby move. I loved eating everything in sight. I loved talking about the baby, thinking about the baby, and all the preparations big and small that go into getting ready for a new baby.

I could finally be in public places and not wince away in pain when a newborn in a stroller passed me by. I no longer needed to divert my wet eyes away from a pregnant woman’s belly. I did not need to choke back my tears when I saw a mother holding the hand of her toddler. I would be that woman. I am that woman. I am going to be a mommy!

October 25, 2006: The Waiting Begins…
When this day came and went with no baby, I was so sad. Throughout the pregnancy I told myself not to get attached to my due date, knowing that it was only an estimation at best. However on a subconscious level I guess I expected our baby to arrive by this day. As usual I tried to console myself through thinking logically: we had been waiting for a baby for years, so a few more days won’t hurt, right? Well every day beyond our due date felt like an eternity to me!

40 weeks

October 31, 2006: The Waiting Continues….
I went about my day as usual…okay that is a complete lie…there was no “usual” for me at this point, since all I wanted to do was birth our baby. It consumed me! Although I tried as best I could to engage in activities that kept me occupied. That afternoon I was cooking in the kitchen when the contractions began. Initially I ignored them since I had been having “false labor contractions” teasing me for weeks. Although at about 2:00pm, I decided to start timing them since they felt rather intense and seemed pretty regular. I timed them from 2:00 to 4:00 and realized they were coming every five to seven minutes lasting a minute to a minute and a half in length. At that point I called Buzz to see when he was coming home from work…soon he said…good I thought, because soon our baby will be here too…

We decided to wait a while before contacting our midwife. I wanted to be sure this was the real deal and to enjoy this special moment in private with Buzz. In the early evening the midwife came over to check me and our baby. Everything looked good. Knowing that we still had a while before the baby would make his/her arrival; we decided to have her leave. We wanted to labor for a while in private since these would the final hours that Buzz and I were a family of two.

November 1, 2006: Where is Baby?
We occupied the next several hours by getting the house ready. I was managing the contractions by stopping to squat during them. Early the next morning when the contractions were about three to five minutes apart lasting about 90 seconds in length, we called the midwife. Soon I will be pushing my baby out and holding him/her for the very first time. I couldn’t wait. My excitement overpowered any fears I had about childbirth.

The birthing team arrived which included the midwife and her two assistants. Labor continued, although progress was slow. I took a hot shower in the dark bathroom to collect my thoughts in private; just me and baby. Please come soon baby…we are all ready for you!

At the 24 hour mark, the birth team decided to leave for a while with the notion that a “watched pot never boils”. By now I was becoming tired both physically and emotionally.

early stages of labor

What happened over the next several hours is a blur to me. Buzz made me some food. He set up the birthing pool. He rubbed my back. He held my hand. He poured hot water over me. He helped me switch positions. He counted with me through each contraction as I rocked on my hands and knees. He kept me strong and focused.

Why is this taking so long? I thought I would be nursing our baby by now. I decided I was ready to intervene with some natural remedies. I drank a ¼ cup of castor oil. This helped, but also confused my senses. Several hours later I was in the tub again. I want to push…I need to push…this is the urge they talk about it…we made it! I expressed my urge to push. At first the midwife told me to follow my body’s cues, but then gently requested to do a vaginal check first. I think she was reading my behavior and wanted physical confirmation of her suspicion that I was not fully dilated. She told me not to push yet. I asked if I could push a little? She explained the risk of pushing too early. At that point, I had been in the tub for a long while…perhaps I was too relaxed? I was told I needed to get out of the tub, move around in effort to help dilate the final centimeter. So I walked around the house, stark naked…moaning softly with each contraction.

The house was dark and quiet, except for my moaning. Buzz was asleep. The midwife’s assistants were asleep. The dogs were asleep. It was just me and the midwife. She was my birth partner during this time. As I made laps around the house, I would stop next to her during contractions. She instinctively knew to rub my back. I did not express I was having back labor, but she knew. This went on for what seemed like hours. I was in a daze; circling around the house. Circling and circling. Waiting and waiting. I wanted to trust my body, but my ability to do so was slowly fading. Fear was starting to take over. Fear mangled with exhaustion. How will I ever manage to push this baby out when I am already feeling emotionally and physically drained?

I looked at the midwife and the words just came out…THE word. The word I dreaded. The word I did not want to think about or say aloud. Hospital? As the word floated from my lips, I knew it was not a question. It was a cry for help. I didn’t know what else to do. Somehow in that moment I foolishly equated going to the hospital as the answer to birthing our baby.

to be continued tomorrow….

Tags: adoption information, birth story, homebirth, hospital transfer, infertility, negative pregnancy test, positive pregnancy test
Posted in Birth, Birth Story, New Mothers, Sarah | 1 Comment »

Healing from Traumatic Birth

Wednesday, January 4th, 2012

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The past weekend as I was getting ready to run my first ultra-marathon, I shocked myself by saying to my husband “I feel fortunate to have had JJ’s birth experience; it challenged my mental and physical abilities beyond what any other experience could. And from it I know I am strong and capable. I can access that strength today“. I paused for a moment to realize I had just used the word fortunate to describe the birth of my first son. The birth that for many years left me feeling sad, hurt, angry, defeated, confused, jealous, and insecure. Oddly after the birth of my second son, which many people assumed to be a healing experience, I felt an even deeper pain about my first son’s birth. It was as though I realized to an even greater extent what I missed out on experiencing during JJ’s birth. I carried that pain with me for a long time and sometimes felt ashamed of it. Not ashamed of the experience itself but of the depth of pain I felt from it. Wasn’t I just supposed to be thankful I had a child and that he was healthy (particularly because we had experienced nearly three years of infertility before getting pregnant which added a great deal of guilt to the mix)? That’s what everyone said to ‘comfort’ me. I desperately tried to comfort myself in these words; but by not acknowledging my feelings they seem to grow bigger.

When JJ was nearing four and I was pregnant with my third baby, a dear friend and mentor of mine asked me an important question. Ultimately this simple conversation changed my perception of his birth and helped me to re-frame the experience. She asked, in a gentle, loving, non-judging, openly curious, and genuinely compassionate way, “Do you think you will always feel anger about his birth?”. My initial and impulsive reply was “Yes, I believe I will. How can I not?”. Although that question stayed with me and I asked it of myself over the next several weeks/months. It helped me realize I had a choice in how I felt about the experience. It also helped me realize that my anger was directed at myself. I was not angry with my midwife or the hospital staff or my husband or anyone else involved in JJ’s birth. I was angry at myself. I needed to forgive myself. And for some reason that can be incredibly tough to do!

Once I started to move away from the medical events of JJ’s birth and really tap into the authentic emotion of it (the emotion I tried to pacify with ‘at least I have a healthy baby’) I began to reflect upon the meaning of his birth in my life. I stopped focusing on what I didn’t get from the experience and started focusing on what I gained from it. This was incredibly freeing because it suddenly opened up so many possibilities to me. And I realized that was true empowerment. We often reserve the word empowerment to describe the beautiful, peaceful, un-medicated births that go 100% according to a birth plan. And I had fallen into that trap; putting birth on a spectrum of empowering to dis-empowering. I no longer subscribe to that linear view of birth. I now realize and appreciate that birth is far too dynamic to regard in such a way.

So my dear JJ, thank you for all you have taught me! The journey to you and the meaning I continually discover from that journey, allows me to find grace and acceptance of myself. And it encourages me to approach new challenges with both humility and courage. I don’t always find a perfect balance of the two; but their simultaneous existence within carries me through.

-Sarah

Moments after crossing the finish line

Tags: birth experience, empowered birth, infertility, traumatic birth, ultra marathon
Posted in Birth, Birth Story, Sarah | 2 Comments »

Birth Story (Part 2)

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

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…continued

While I labored alone in the bedroom, J followed hubby around as he filled up the pool, made the bed, and whatever else he did to get things ready. I laid on the bed in the dark softly humming to myself. This lasted for a while until I decided I wanted to take a shower. The water running over my body was soothing and I stayed there for quite some time, almost motionless except for my deep breaths. However I eventually started to feel overly restricted in the shower and needed to move. I returned to the bed; laying in a fetal position in between contractions and on all four during contractions. By this time the midwives had arrived (5:30ish). They eased in quietly, carefully, and respectfully. They knew this was my birthing space and they protected it, even from their own presence.

I was ready to get into the water and the water was ready for me in parallel timing. As I had suspected would be the case, J wanted to get into the water with me and I was fine with it. Actually I loved and cherished that special time we had together. It is my last memory of him as my only baby. Jack Johnson was playing softly in the background while I swayed in the water. J thought I was dancing and was saying “dancing momma, dancing”. He asked me to dance with him. We danced together for a while, until I needed him out of the tub. Hubby got J out of the pool, dried, dressed, and comfy with a snack and movie in the bedroom while I continued to labor in the water.

After a while I decided my body needed some upright movement. I got out of the tub, but still craving the soothing power of water I went into the shower again. I swayed in the shower signing lullabies to my baby. I sang loudly without any apprehensions. Eventually hubby came into the bathroom and warned me we would run out of hot water soon. I definitely did not want that to happen so I got out of the shower and back into the pool. As I walked back into the front room I noticed the midwives sitting on the couch. I thought to myself “Gee they are probably bored. There really isn’t anything for them to do except sit there. Maybe I should tell them to go home and come back when I am further along?”. That thought lasted only a second or two because the very next thought was “I don’t really care what they do or need. I’m busy”. That was when I realized birth was imminent; when I was able to let go of the propensity I have to take care of everyone else around me. I allowed my own needs to be the priority. I asked my midwife what time she thought the baby would be born. I think she understood what I needed to hear because her brilliant response was “Your baby will come at the perfect time”.

Things intensified and I become more vocal. My noises; low, deep grunts, drew J out of the bedroom full of curiosity. As he watched me he played with his Thomas train along the couch singing ‘Thomas, Thomas, Thomas”. Contrary to what one might assume, his presence was very calming to me. I believe he provided an important strength and love that was very beneficial to the birthing process. His ability to joyfully play with his beloved train while I gave birth offered an acute awareness that what was happening was perfectly natural. It was cyclical relationship. The energy in the room indicated what I was doing was fine so he accepted it as fine, thus acted normally, which in turn sent a positive message to me that everything was fine.

I asked hubby to talk to me. I just needed to hear his voice. He quietly told me a story about a perfectly beautiful snowy day in the mountains. As he spoke he lovingly stroked my back and arms. His voice, his words, and his touch were especially comforting.
I expressed feeling scared. The midwife said to me “It’s okay to feel afraid”. I repeated that to myself aloud a few times. As I entered transition I used a great deal of self-talk as I repeated the various labor/birth affirmations I had reflected upon throughout my pregnancy. I told myself aloud and internally…I CAN do this. I AM doing this. This is what I want. Everything that I am feeling is important and purposeful.

Rather suddenly, I felt the urge to push. It almost took me by surprise how powerful it was. When I felt that raging sensation, I worked with it. I pushed and grunted. No one told me what to do. No one needed to because my body knew. I stayed on my hands and knees in the water to push. Hubby was behind me ready to catch our baby. One midwife sat near him while the other sat near my head. J stayed near daddy to watch the baby ease out of my body.

In between contractions I felt ecstatic, almost euphoric. As baby crowned I looked up at the midwife with a wide smile. I felt as though laughter echoed throughout my whole body. “The baby is coming!” I exclaimed, “The baby is going to be born at home!” She smiled right back at me. Her smiling face was kind and encouraging. As I pushed my baby out, my bag of water broke open. Hubby caught our baby in his very own hands, with a little help from big brother, J.

Bonding
Immediately after baby emerged, the midwives helped me turn over and hubby passed the baby to me. Some people refer to the moments after birth as “meeting your baby”. But to me it felt like reuniting.

As I sat there in the water, holding my baby for the first time, it was as if time stood still; as though we were the only two people in the room. I was aware of the presence of my husband, my firstborn, and the midwives, but it felt like they were observing us through a glass window…peering in, with great admiration for the infinite love they witnessed unfolding before them.

There was no rush. We could stay in this moment for as long as we wanted to. No one was going to take my baby from my arms or hurry me along. I would decide when I was ready to move on. And so we stayed there for a while: the two of us, in our own private world, bonding as only a mother and newborn are capable of. I inhaled every feature of my baby’s face, scent, skin, and body. I checked and announced we had a baby boy. The midwives asked permission to check our newborn son. Ever so gently, as he laid across my chest, they took his vitals.

I started to feel cold and wanted to move into the bedroom to snuggle up in our bed. They carefully helped us out of the pool, as baby was still attached to the placenta which I had not birthed yet. In the bedroom I had a few more contractions and pushed out the placenta. The midwives wrapped it up and set it next to me and baby. I put baby to my breast to nurse him for the first time. I found his cord to be somewhat interfering with my ability to comfortably hold him to my breast and asked to cut it. Together the midwife and hubby cut the umbilical cord. It was a sensitive moment for me, as we will never again be attached in that way. Although I knew we would discover and develop a different kind of attachment throughout the journey ahead of us.

Reflecting
The shedding, the unleashing that occurs during an unmedicated, unmanaged, uninhibited birth is transformative. First I experienced an emotional release, then a mental, and then a physical. In doing so, I was able to be fully present, on all levels (mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually) for the birth of my son. The sense of empowerment that I experienced during the course of his pregnancy and birth I have carried (and will continue to) with me into motherhood. He has taught me to trust my instincts, to follow my heart, to cultivate beliefs, and to embrace life.