It’s hard to believe that this time a year ago I was holding
my newborn son in my arms. I wanted to share his birth story because when I was
pregnant with him I searched and searched for positive birth stories…and ya
know what? They’re hard to find. However,
the first two moms that I shared this story with said “I hate you” to my face. Ouch.
So, I’ve taken my time to share it and I
only share it with the disclaimer that I don’t think I’m a super birthing machine
or that a natural, unmedicated birth is the end-all be-all of birth. That being
said I’ve found that I have some really strong believes about what birth can be…it
can be powerful, beautiful, calm, peaceful, and one of the most defining moments
of your life. This is where I found
myself a year ago, putting my birth where my beliefs are.
I had been having contractions since 37 weeks to the point where
I would stop, breathe through them and say “just let me know when you’re serious
about this”. The fact that I was talking
to my contractions should tell you a little bit about my state of mind-ha! An accomplished day included keeping water
down, maybe some food, and caring for my 3 year old son, Zeke. Ian was super low and at “zero station” from
the end of the second trimester on. So I
felt like he could arrive at any moment and that’s what I thought was happing
at 38 weeks. As it turns out I was
having a kidney stone! Now that is a horror story I will not share and I would
actually rather give birth than have another kidney stone! But gratefully my
contractions remained constant and though I was dilated at 4cm throughout the
whole experience the Doctors, as I ended up having to go to the hospital, felt
that Ian wasn’t stressed. We were able to avoid a c-section and go home
again. So, I walked around for another 2
weeks like this. I got so use to strong contractions that I would just breathe
for a little bit, get on all fours, whatever, and then get back up and finish dishes,
laundry, or whatever I was doing with Zeke. Then my due date came and went. I’m grateful that I’ve had several friend who
have gone past their due date, some to 42 weeks, that passed along some wisdom on
patience in that time of waiting. So, we
went out for a “Happy Due Date” dinner.
The next day I went in for my regular chiropractor visit, which had been
a huge help to me throughout pregnancy, as I struggle with my hips randomly dislocating,
pregnant or not. As I was driving home I
started to have what I would call “a good one”.
The kind where you can’t think about anything else but what’s
happening. This happened several times
during the 15 minute drive home. I
called my midwife when I got home and let her know that I thought I’d have the
baby sometime that night. Since I already had a 4pm appointment scheduled for
that day I cancelled it. She said she
would leave it open for me just in case. I went about my day, doing the normal
farm and family routine, stopping to breathe here and there. Whenever it came time for Zeke’s nap at 1:30
I put in one of my favorite movies and sat on a balance ball. Any time I thought I was having a contraction,
because I still wasn’t sure I knew what they were, I would say “this doesn’t
have to hurt”. Contractions to me are
your body doing what it’s supposed to so you can meet your baby. I had also read several accounts of ecstatic
birth and painless birth, which I was going to claim for myself if I could. Many of these stories were written by
non-Christians and I felt like if I claim to know the Prince of Peace as a Christian,
then at least I could move forward without fear or fear of pain. It’s all temporary. Also, I knew that physically, the more you
fight contractions the more painful they are going to be and I thought I must
have about 8+ hours of this to go. Sometime around 2:30pm I called David, my
husband, because I started to feel like I didn’t want to be by myself anymore. When David got home we called the midwives and
let them know we were going to come in to at least have them check my progress. We called our friends that had offered to
watch Zeke and went to drop him off. Then
David forgot the directions to our friend’s house! I sat in the front pointing right or left as I
breathed through contractions that were now about 2 minutes apart and feeling
more meaningful each time. Zeke didn’t
even have shoes on when David threw him through the door at our friend’s house.
We arrived at the Birth Center at 4pm,
my original appointment time and were welcomed by a lot of happy, laughing
midwives and nurses. It was the biggest relief
to be there. It was like having a guaranteed
knowledgeable, caring, pep-squad ready to cheer you on through the one of the hardest
and best events of your life! I went upstairs to the birthing room I had chosen
and the deep tub was already full-yes! This is when David went into action. He brought
up our bags, set up my essential oil diffuser with lavender, whipped out my padded
yoga map and grabbed a balance ball. He was pretty awesome. My midwife checked me and said, “You’re at
9cm, want to stay and have a baby?” I
just started laughing! I couldn’t believe that this was finally happening! I
was so excited I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. I had been able to talk, walk around, function
normally, and I hadn’t experienced any pain at all throughout this whole experience. This just hadn’t been hard enough to be labor. I got in the tub and just talked to David
until I had to breathe. He held my hand
and would look at me. I don’t remember
what he said to me, but I know it was sweet and it was good. He was there and that was all I needed in that
time. Then things got intense at about
4:30pm and for the first time I felt afraid.
I had this rush of memories from my first birth and every terrible birth
story I had ever heard or anyone had ever told me came to life in my mind. Friends, your words and how you use them are
powerful. Remember that when you talk to
pregnant ladies. So, I started talking to
my baby, louder, and louder, and LOUDER. “Please get out, baby!” It was the
only thing I could think to say. It just had to be over soon. Then my midwife
said that his head had been born. But
then there was a pause and it seemed too long. So they had me get out of the tub. Sorry for the mental image here, but I literally
climbed out of the deep birthing tub and walked across the room to get on the
bed. David still says, “I don’t know how
you did that”. All I knew is that if
that was the best thing for my baby then I was going to do it, no matter what. It was just a few moments of what felt like
rest and then I knew I had come to my end. I felt done.
It was in that moment that my body did exactly what it was supposed to
and Ian was born. And he was just fine. I don’t even remember pushing. It was just the best relief and it was
surreal. There he was all 9lbs, 21.5
inches of him! His head at 14.5 inches was over an inch bigger in diameter than
the average newborn head size, yet I hadn’t torn or needed an episiotomy. The first thing that I did was apologize for
yelling at him. Then I told him how glad
I was that he was here and that I loved him.
Those moments made every bit of suffering during pregnancy worth it. Birth wasn’t something that had happened to me
this time. Birth was something that I
had DONE, with my baby and with my husband.
He was born at 4:45pm and the last 15 minutes was the hardest work I
have ever done in my life. But let’s be
honest, 15 minutes??? Yep, all to bring an eternal soul into the world, a soul
that will potentially live and impact the world for the next 80-90 years. I’d say that’s one heck of a tradeoff. Some could say I had been in labor since 37
weeks, some for 30 minutes. Either way,
I never would have had time for an epidural if I had wanted one. I’m so glad that I hadn’t relied on trying to
have one. I felt amazing in my soul and
in my body, like I could go run a few miles or go rock climbing. Don’t worry, I
didn’t. We left the birth center before
5:30pm and went home with our new little (big) bundle. It’s taken longer to have pizzas delivered to
our house than it took to delivery our baby. This birth was one of the most intense, powerful,
and redeeming events of my life and I am GRATEFUL that I was able to experience
it and was given the precious gift that is my second son, Ian. For you pregnant ladies out there, I hope that
this encourages you. For those that have
had a traumatic birth, it can be redeemed.
Nothing is beyond the healing and love of God. As someone who had 3 miscarriages in one year
and was told I wouldn’t be able to have children, I absolutely believe that. And to myself, remember what is true about
birth, because you’re about to do it all over again in about 5 months J
