Inspirational Stories
Birth Story 1
Maya Elizabeth Laing
By Jessica Laing
By Jessica Laing
|
Maya Elizabeth Laing – born peacefully at home January 27, 2007.
The story of your birth… Labor came in stops and starts all week long. Every evening as the sun went down, the contractions got strong. I slept less and less each night, using a hot rice pack to keep the low back pain down. My crampy low back would spread across my full pregnant belly, tightening it like a drum. These night contractions were enough to send me walking the floor. As the sun came up each day it slowed way down, and I spent the day doing a little of this and a little of that. I finished knitting my blue sweater, several baby hats, and made pretty thank you’s for my blessing way. |
About a week and a half before you were born the midwife said you had settled in my pelvis. It made it hard for me to walk and move, but with more space for my stomach, I was hungry to eat and be strong for your birth.
Inside, you tucked your chin and pressed your head against my cervix, starting to open me up for your birth. (At my prenatal check up on Wednesday January 24th I was dilated to 3 cm. On Thursday morning I began leaking amniotic fluid). We worked hard together to help you be born.
On Friday the 26th, the day just before the night you were born, Justin and I woke up early, before the sun was even up. It was a thick foggy morning. We had our breakfast and I had a castor oil milk shake to nudge you along your way. Then when the chickens were just hopping out of their house to meet the day, we bundled up in our warm coats (I could just barely zip up over you), got Chai’s leash and went walking. My body was so full of you, we walked very slowly down to the water – January wind blew hard in our faces and we wondered if today was the day you would be born.
When we got back to the house Denise the acupuncturist came and gave you another nudge along the way. I laid on the couch with the OM-OM-OM sounding in the back ground. I chanted along, opening my throat to help my body open for you. Then Carolee (your midwife) and Olivia came to visit. They checked on you and sent us out walking again. Your Daddy and I went walking up the street (5th Avenue) and talked about houses-what a lovely home we had made for you and how we had all that we needed to be ready for your arrival. We were thankful for:
Our hearts were open for you. As we walked down Legion Way, towards home, the trees were bare overheard, and the sun was shining in the blue sky. We passed by some bulbs shooting up to meet the spring, a Rhododendron with pink buds opening. We talked about how long we had been wanting and waiting for you. We remembered the first day we knew you’d be coming to be with us. On that day in May, we took a walk bursting with excitement and full of wondering about our new life.
I loved everyday carrying your life inside my body, up until the end when we were so eager to meet you. We remembered that at first you were our own sweet secret. Slowly we learned to share you with the world a little at a time. We had been thinking about this day, your birthday for a long time.
After this walk, we had some food and rested, thinking that there was much hard work ahead. (At 6pm I had dilated to 4cm)
As the sun went down that day, the work started to get a little harder. Carolee checked on you and sent us out walking one more time. We went two blocks over and hurried back. Then we ventured out one more time. It was starting to feel strong, and I was going SLOW-stopping to squat and breathe in the dark on the sidewalk. You were opening my body more and more. We were getting so much closer to meeting our sweet girl.
We only made it half way around the block this time, and had to cut back through the ally on the way back. I came back in active labor and knew that sooner than later you would be born. I traveled around the house trying to find the right spot to be. I felt sick and knew there was no turning back. This is what we had been waiting for.
Your Daddy called Nana and Auntie Kathy and started to fill the birth tub. Soon I didn’t want him away from me. We were all doing this work together. (7pm)
At 9pm Nana and Kathy showed up while I was on the bed. I was opening my throat and finding my labor noises-low and powerful. Your Daddy stayed strong and right there with us through each contractions. You were being squeezed tight now and had your mama working hard to get you down and out. You were a strong baby and also working hard to be born.
Now the tub was ready. It was such sweet relief to get down in the warm water. The contractions were working on us hard and fast now. Your Daddy put the chanting back on and I worked hard to keep my body and my sounds OPEN! And relax a little with each break.
Soon the feelings were changing and so were my sounds, I was pushing.
Pushing was hard and strong and felt good!
“I’m working hard to birth my baby” “I want to meet my baby”
I thought it was too soon to push-oh no how to stop when it felt so good.
Carolee had me feel inside for you and you were right there about an inch from my opening. It was time to be pushing out my baby.
The candles were burning on the window in your room. Sweet beeswax for my almost Candlemas baby. My pushing sounds were strong and they worked.
“I’m working hard for my baby” “I want to meet my baby”
Your papa was right there with us- your heart stayed beating strong and we were not afraid.
I asked how many more and Carolee said “The right amount.”
Now it was time to get out of the tub. You would be here soon.
Papa and Auntie Kathy helped me out. I had to stop and push along the way.
They held me like a chair, and you kept working you way down.
Did you know it would be soon?
On the bed, the pushing and working took over. I closed my eyes and roared. I felt your sweet head and rubbed your hair. "I want to push this baby out." I felt my body open more and more to let you out. It burned and Carolee held ginger tea to your head. It felt warm and opening.
Soon your whole head was born, your Daddy looked into your face for the first time and so did Nana and Grandma Karen. I touched you and knew I would really meet you soon. You made a sweet little noise, but you were still asleep to this world.
Did you say goodbye to the other realm?
Next your shoulders and then you were here suddenly on my belly-wet and wonderful. Your eyes were open and looking for mine. We met again in a new way. This was one of the happiest moments of my life.
They covered you with blankets and I wanted you closer, but your cord was short. After a few minutes when you got all the blood, then Daddy cut the cord and I brought you all to way up to me. Your head smelled like ginger. You were here and we were all together. You were a familiar stranger at first. I don't think I expected you to be so unknown at first, After a while I checked and you were a girl. We covered your head with a hat, and started to care for you out here.
We didn't wash my fluids from you for three days. I loved the scent of you from me, and wanted soak it all up. You found a finger right away to suck, I think you had been practicing. You also sucked at my breast and had your first meal.
Everything is brand new, and you feel just right.
Inside, you tucked your chin and pressed your head against my cervix, starting to open me up for your birth. (At my prenatal check up on Wednesday January 24th I was dilated to 3 cm. On Thursday morning I began leaking amniotic fluid). We worked hard together to help you be born.
On Friday the 26th, the day just before the night you were born, Justin and I woke up early, before the sun was even up. It was a thick foggy morning. We had our breakfast and I had a castor oil milk shake to nudge you along your way. Then when the chickens were just hopping out of their house to meet the day, we bundled up in our warm coats (I could just barely zip up over you), got Chai’s leash and went walking. My body was so full of you, we walked very slowly down to the water – January wind blew hard in our faces and we wondered if today was the day you would be born.
When we got back to the house Denise the acupuncturist came and gave you another nudge along the way. I laid on the couch with the OM-OM-OM sounding in the back ground. I chanted along, opening my throat to help my body open for you. Then Carolee (your midwife) and Olivia came to visit. They checked on you and sent us out walking again. Your Daddy and I went walking up the street (5th Avenue) and talked about houses-what a lovely home we had made for you and how we had all that we needed to be ready for your arrival. We were thankful for:
- Our loving families
- Our love for each other
- Our community of Olympia
- Our supportive friends and neighbors
Our hearts were open for you. As we walked down Legion Way, towards home, the trees were bare overheard, and the sun was shining in the blue sky. We passed by some bulbs shooting up to meet the spring, a Rhododendron with pink buds opening. We talked about how long we had been wanting and waiting for you. We remembered the first day we knew you’d be coming to be with us. On that day in May, we took a walk bursting with excitement and full of wondering about our new life.
I loved everyday carrying your life inside my body, up until the end when we were so eager to meet you. We remembered that at first you were our own sweet secret. Slowly we learned to share you with the world a little at a time. We had been thinking about this day, your birthday for a long time.
After this walk, we had some food and rested, thinking that there was much hard work ahead. (At 6pm I had dilated to 4cm)
As the sun went down that day, the work started to get a little harder. Carolee checked on you and sent us out walking one more time. We went two blocks over and hurried back. Then we ventured out one more time. It was starting to feel strong, and I was going SLOW-stopping to squat and breathe in the dark on the sidewalk. You were opening my body more and more. We were getting so much closer to meeting our sweet girl.
We only made it half way around the block this time, and had to cut back through the ally on the way back. I came back in active labor and knew that sooner than later you would be born. I traveled around the house trying to find the right spot to be. I felt sick and knew there was no turning back. This is what we had been waiting for.
Your Daddy called Nana and Auntie Kathy and started to fill the birth tub. Soon I didn’t want him away from me. We were all doing this work together. (7pm)
At 9pm Nana and Kathy showed up while I was on the bed. I was opening my throat and finding my labor noises-low and powerful. Your Daddy stayed strong and right there with us through each contractions. You were being squeezed tight now and had your mama working hard to get you down and out. You were a strong baby and also working hard to be born.
Now the tub was ready. It was such sweet relief to get down in the warm water. The contractions were working on us hard and fast now. Your Daddy put the chanting back on and I worked hard to keep my body and my sounds OPEN! And relax a little with each break.
Soon the feelings were changing and so were my sounds, I was pushing.
Pushing was hard and strong and felt good!
“I’m working hard to birth my baby” “I want to meet my baby”
I thought it was too soon to push-oh no how to stop when it felt so good.
Carolee had me feel inside for you and you were right there about an inch from my opening. It was time to be pushing out my baby.
The candles were burning on the window in your room. Sweet beeswax for my almost Candlemas baby. My pushing sounds were strong and they worked.
“I’m working hard for my baby” “I want to meet my baby”
Your papa was right there with us- your heart stayed beating strong and we were not afraid.
I asked how many more and Carolee said “The right amount.”
Now it was time to get out of the tub. You would be here soon.
Papa and Auntie Kathy helped me out. I had to stop and push along the way.
They held me like a chair, and you kept working you way down.
Did you know it would be soon?
On the bed, the pushing and working took over. I closed my eyes and roared. I felt your sweet head and rubbed your hair. "I want to push this baby out." I felt my body open more and more to let you out. It burned and Carolee held ginger tea to your head. It felt warm and opening.
Soon your whole head was born, your Daddy looked into your face for the first time and so did Nana and Grandma Karen. I touched you and knew I would really meet you soon. You made a sweet little noise, but you were still asleep to this world.
Did you say goodbye to the other realm?
Next your shoulders and then you were here suddenly on my belly-wet and wonderful. Your eyes were open and looking for mine. We met again in a new way. This was one of the happiest moments of my life.
They covered you with blankets and I wanted you closer, but your cord was short. After a few minutes when you got all the blood, then Daddy cut the cord and I brought you all to way up to me. Your head smelled like ginger. You were here and we were all together. You were a familiar stranger at first. I don't think I expected you to be so unknown at first, After a while I checked and you were a girl. We covered your head with a hat, and started to care for you out here.
We didn't wash my fluids from you for three days. I loved the scent of you from me, and wanted soak it all up. You found a finger right away to suck, I think you had been practicing. You also sucked at my breast and had your first meal.
Everything is brand new, and you feel just right.
Carolee believes in the sacredness of birth. It is her hope to partner with women and their families throughout the passage to parenthood in order to support their birth journey. She believes this is best done by building a close and respectful relationship that honors the family's inherent knowledge of birth while providing information and encouragement.
Carolee shares her life with Jay, her husband of over thirty years and together they are enjoying the empty nest life while cheering for their four adult children through the adventures of life. Their loving support and births have made her the midwife she is today.
Carolee shares her life with Jay, her husband of over thirty years and together they are enjoying the empty nest life while cheering for their four adult children through the adventures of life. Their loving support and births have made her the midwife she is today.
Birth Story 2
Felicity Addisyn Carys Stanley-Hutchinson's Birth Story
By Andrea Stanley
Let me start by saying that this birth experience was made so fabulous by the midwives, that I wish I could be pregnant and/or giving birth at all times! I’m not exaggerating.
The actual day I went into labor, I had an appointment where Lora performed a cervical massage (I was a week past due). I walked out of the office with some mild cramping, which continued to grow stronger as time passed. There was some paperwork I had to complete at the office, so I went in, talked with my co-workers, all while the pain was growing more and more intense. I even convinced my mom to go to lunch with me, but as soon as we got to the freeway, she turned around and headed back to the office, telling me that I needed to go home and get some rest.
I barely made it home, I was in so much pain.
The instant I got home, I waddled up the stairs and fell into bed. I curled up into the tightest ball I could and called my husband. I needed someone to be with me, not because I was in labor, just because I didn’t feel good. Little did I know….
After Aaron got home, I reluctantly settled in for a nap, which lasted until about 4:30pm. We had made plans to celebrate his birthday early at Racha Thai. I kept having these “waves of pain”, which Aaron dubbed contractions. I was obviously in denial, and cried when he suggested we stay home. The crying won him over, and we headed to the restaurant, where we ate a full meal of green curry and pad thai. I kept having to stop, put my fork down, relax through a contraction, then eat. It took longer than a normal meal. By this point, I accepted the fact that I was in labor, but still had a few errands I wanted to run – Target, Top Foods, Borders, the list goes on. We went to Target first, and I doubled over in an aisle during a contraction. Aaron decided that was the end of our shopping excursion!
We got home around 8 pm, I called Constance, and she confirmed that I was in early labor. The contractions were coming about every 5 minutes or so. I waddled around, setting up the food downstairs, putting away laundry, tidying up. My parents came over, and my dad was shocked to see me walking around. “You’re in labor!” he exclaimed, “What are you doing walking around? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He works for a hospital, so the concept of me hanging out and chatting with my mom around the dining room table while I was in labor was a very foreign concept to him!
Not too long after that, the contractions got more intense. Aaron and my mom made the bed, rubbed my back, and helped me find a comfortable position to labor in. I had really intense back labor for some reason, so I’d pretty much kneel into Aaron, and my mom would put pressure on my back. This continued for a couple hours, until Constance and Lora showed up around midnight. To be honest, I noticed their presence and felt relaxed. They were so warm and flexible to my needs. They truly worked with me.
At some point Constance checked me and said I was 7cm dilated. I remember being so bummed out, but everything moved very quickly from that point. The contractions became more intense, and it was getting increasingly difficult to focus. This is when I had my “fantasy of a c-section.” It sounds so silly now, but I think I was in transition at that point, and all I wanted was for the contractions to be over!
Constance suggested I move to the shower, and that’s when the pushing started. It was so involuntary, a little scary – this sensation that my body had just taken over and I was just going along for the ride. No one can prepare you for the sensation of pushing. Aaron was a trooper and got all wet rubbing my back while I was in the shower. The baby started to crown, and I was just ready to have her right there in the shower, but Constance convinced me to move back to the bed.
I got on my hands and knees, which seemed to be the only comfortable position for me to labor in, and pushed for what seemed like 5 minutes. I know it was short. All of a sudden, Felicity was born - crying, beautiful. It was an amazing experience. I’ve never felt so in tune with my body or so not in control yet so empowered. I’m thankful to the midwives for their expertise that allowed me to have this powerful experience at home. I wouldn’t choose to have a child in any other manner, and I honestly can’t wait until I’m pregnant again, so I can experience the joy of giving birth all over again!
By Andrea Stanley
Let me start by saying that this birth experience was made so fabulous by the midwives, that I wish I could be pregnant and/or giving birth at all times! I’m not exaggerating.
The actual day I went into labor, I had an appointment where Lora performed a cervical massage (I was a week past due). I walked out of the office with some mild cramping, which continued to grow stronger as time passed. There was some paperwork I had to complete at the office, so I went in, talked with my co-workers, all while the pain was growing more and more intense. I even convinced my mom to go to lunch with me, but as soon as we got to the freeway, she turned around and headed back to the office, telling me that I needed to go home and get some rest.
I barely made it home, I was in so much pain.
The instant I got home, I waddled up the stairs and fell into bed. I curled up into the tightest ball I could and called my husband. I needed someone to be with me, not because I was in labor, just because I didn’t feel good. Little did I know….
After Aaron got home, I reluctantly settled in for a nap, which lasted until about 4:30pm. We had made plans to celebrate his birthday early at Racha Thai. I kept having these “waves of pain”, which Aaron dubbed contractions. I was obviously in denial, and cried when he suggested we stay home. The crying won him over, and we headed to the restaurant, where we ate a full meal of green curry and pad thai. I kept having to stop, put my fork down, relax through a contraction, then eat. It took longer than a normal meal. By this point, I accepted the fact that I was in labor, but still had a few errands I wanted to run – Target, Top Foods, Borders, the list goes on. We went to Target first, and I doubled over in an aisle during a contraction. Aaron decided that was the end of our shopping excursion!
We got home around 8 pm, I called Constance, and she confirmed that I was in early labor. The contractions were coming about every 5 minutes or so. I waddled around, setting up the food downstairs, putting away laundry, tidying up. My parents came over, and my dad was shocked to see me walking around. “You’re in labor!” he exclaimed, “What are you doing walking around? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He works for a hospital, so the concept of me hanging out and chatting with my mom around the dining room table while I was in labor was a very foreign concept to him!
Not too long after that, the contractions got more intense. Aaron and my mom made the bed, rubbed my back, and helped me find a comfortable position to labor in. I had really intense back labor for some reason, so I’d pretty much kneel into Aaron, and my mom would put pressure on my back. This continued for a couple hours, until Constance and Lora showed up around midnight. To be honest, I noticed their presence and felt relaxed. They were so warm and flexible to my needs. They truly worked with me.
At some point Constance checked me and said I was 7cm dilated. I remember being so bummed out, but everything moved very quickly from that point. The contractions became more intense, and it was getting increasingly difficult to focus. This is when I had my “fantasy of a c-section.” It sounds so silly now, but I think I was in transition at that point, and all I wanted was for the contractions to be over!
Constance suggested I move to the shower, and that’s when the pushing started. It was so involuntary, a little scary – this sensation that my body had just taken over and I was just going along for the ride. No one can prepare you for the sensation of pushing. Aaron was a trooper and got all wet rubbing my back while I was in the shower. The baby started to crown, and I was just ready to have her right there in the shower, but Constance convinced me to move back to the bed.
I got on my hands and knees, which seemed to be the only comfortable position for me to labor in, and pushed for what seemed like 5 minutes. I know it was short. All of a sudden, Felicity was born - crying, beautiful. It was an amazing experience. I’ve never felt so in tune with my body or so not in control yet so empowered. I’m thankful to the midwives for their expertise that allowed me to have this powerful experience at home. I wouldn’t choose to have a child in any other manner, and I honestly can’t wait until I’m pregnant again, so I can experience the joy of giving birth all over again!
Birth Story 3
The Amazing Homebirth of Eleanor Paige
By Jesse Michener
And baby makes…five.
My third child, a beautiful daughter, was born into the world last Tuesday morning. In the wee dark hours of a rainy October night, little Eleanor Paige safely made her way into this world in the attic of our schoolhouse home.
Her story begins last March. In the midst of a harried deadline forMothering magazine, I frantically searched for items I needed. My office was in our basement and things frequently got lost amid the unpacked boxes and general disorganization. In one such box, I found a home pregnancy test unused from when we were trying to conceive Zoe. I sat down and thought about when my period was due—always a tricky figure with my irregular cycles and doubly so because I had only had one flow since Zoe’s birth, nearly a year earlier. I decided that if I were a person with regular periods, I would be two weeks late. With no symptoms and no real belief I was pregnant, I took the test for fun. I decided it was good distraction from my chaotic day and when it was negative I could at least know I wasn’t pregnant.
The pregnancy line showed before the control line.
I am not a person for surprises. I can hardly keep my mouth shut when it comes to the holidays and birthdays. I don’t plan them well, I don’t keep them well. I like to know what is coming. A surprise pregnancy was not in the plan,thankyouverymuch. Zoe was just over a year old! My hands started to shake, my stomach immediately churned with nerves and the very idea of telling Mike about the pregnancy made me feel faint. My husband is a reasonable man, but he isn’t the type to deal with surprises well, either.
I called Jenny, my best friend, in England. “You don’t have to have the baby, you know.” Yes, I knew that. It wasn’t an option for me. She listened to me cry and relate my fears about Mike’s reaction and offered her love and support. I told her I was sure I’d get used to the idea and be happy, but that I didn’t know when that would be.
For some reason, I was terrified of telling Mike. I don’t really know why, but somehow I felt as if it were my fault. I realize it takes two people to make a pregnancy happen, but in my heightened emotional state, I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. I imagined him mad at me. My husband rarely even raises his voice, the fear I had was more that he would hold me solely accountable for this pregnancy—it was unrealistic and unfair. I’m sure I was projecting my fears and feelings onto him.
I decided to try and make the actual telling a little humorous. I taped the positive test to the door with yellow tape. I wrote the word, “Caution” on the tape. I saw him walk up to the door. He opened it without noticing the test but then did a double-take. “What does this mean?” He said very sternly. “What does this mean? Are you pregnant?”
All I could do was sob, “Yes.”
He rushed over to me and said, “Oh, that is wonderful! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I told him I thought he’d be mad at me and he looked at me with that “you’re-such-a-wacky-dame” look. “What a beautiful day to find out we’re having another baby!” He hugged me and said, “But we have to stop at three, okay?”
After I was sure my marriage was intact, I realized how unprepared we were to welcome another life into this world. Our cars were crappy and our house was too small. I believe that you can put your needs out to the universe and most of the time the universe responds. Sometimes it’s not what you expect, but it is often what you need. On a photo shoot later that spring, I found the house we were to move into—a remodeled turn-of-the-century schoolhouse. It was located 22 miles from the city, which was both good and bad. Mike would be commuting to Seattle each day and I would have to navigate transportation across the bridge to the Waldorf school in Tacoma. The schoolhouse was beautiful and serene, it seemed like an equal exchange.
The pregnancy was fairly uneventful. I didn’t get terrible morning sickness and had more energy than I had with my others. My weight gain was slow and steady and things were generally easy until September. September was a hard, hard month. All of the sudden my body turned on me. My pelvis began to ache with every movement, a condition known as Pubic Symphsis Disorder. The ligament that holds the two halves of the pubic bone together starts to soften in preparation for the baby’s decent. The only problem is that the bones tend to scat and jive during the process resulting in movement = pain.
Had it not been for my trance-like obsession with getting and keeping the house clean, things might have been okay. I was a like a woman possessed, though, and my to-do list for the house was never ending. My children seemed to be in a war against me: making messes, taking off diapers and peeing (or worse) on the floor, cutting and pasting things where things that should not be cut and pasted—it was enough to drive a hugely-pregnant woman mad. And it did, at times. My body was so tired, in so much constant pain, that I felt beaten and worn as I approached 36 weeks.
And then, all of the sudden, I didn’t. One day I woke up and felt a little better. The next day I felt even better. By the end of my 37th week, I was feeling like a new woman. The house was clean, the labor preparations were done and I was more and more ready to have our wee surprise girl.
Mike’s contract at Seattle’s Intiman theatre ended in my 38th week. He found work the following week. That left one week work-free because his new job started on November 1st. This was all during my 39th-40th week of pregnancy. After trying all of the low-intervention home induction techniques (walking, sex, spicy food), I decided I was ready for some big guns. Like my labor with Zoe, I wanted to kick-start this labor with castor oil. I’m not one for interventions and knew that if my body wasn’t ready, it wouldn’t start labor. This was the only week Mike was home and I was going to do everything I could to have her then.
On Monday the 25th, we went to my midwife appointment. My midwife, a beautiful woman named Constance, asked me what I had in mind for jump-starting labor. When I said castor oil, we both knew how serious I was. She got on her game face and the tenor of the appointment changed. She remarked that I looked ready, that I seemed really clear and centered. I felt that way, too.
“Do you want me to strip your membranes?” she asked. “Yup. Do it all. Let’s get this show on the road.” She reached in to feel my cervix. I was at a 1 and very soft. She massaged the cervix a bit and worked her fingers slowly between the bag of waters and my uterine wall. By the time she was finished, I was dilated to a 2. It was not a pain-free experience, but it was well worth it if it would get labor started. My orders were to go home, blend 3 oz of castor oil with 1 pint of ice cream and one cup milk. After I had chugged that, I was to take a hot shower, then a long walk and then have sex. At the end of four hours, I was to call Constance with an update.
The ice cream of choice this go-around was plain chocolate. At 1:00 p.m., I mixed the shake in the blender as Mike got busy doing various last-minute house hold things. The house was pretty messy, so after my shower, I got busy cleaning. Zoe napped and Violet drifted from me to Mike, helping when she could. The castor oil cleaned my bowels fairly quickly and painlessly. The contractions I had been having for days seemed to regulate a bit and pick up—ever so slightly—in intensity. At the end of four hours I was disheartened because the contractions I was having seemed very mild. With Zoe, my water broke after the mandated sex portion of the instructions. No such luck this time. I figured I’d have to repeat the castor oil—which I didn’t know that I was capable of because it was so disgusting the thought of retaking it made me want to vomit.
At 5:00 p.m. I called Constance. I related that, yes, I was contracting about every 4 - 6 minutes. They were really mild and I was to keep busy, talk, etc. though them. Although they were regular and more intense, I was not convinced was is labor. She advised me not to retake the castor oil—if I was in early labor, the contractions were doing the job of further effacing me and the big guns would come out later. If not, I could retake the castor oil the next day after a good night’s rest. I told her I’d call her before I went to bed.
Almost immediately, things started to get interesting. Not convincing, but interesting. At 8:30 p.m. we called Constance because, wouldn’t you know it, my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart. They were close but they were not impressive, not “knock-your-socks-off contractions.” I did feel good making vocalizations through them. Constance found it very interesting I was vocalizing and said they would come right away—which meant they’d be there in 1-2 hours because of our location. We called Jenny and asked her to come out. I needed a distraction and knew that the girls would love having her there if we wanted to go for a walk.
When Jenny arrived, we all danced to Dar Williams, “The Christians and the Pagans” and Jenny massaged my hands and feet. Zoe snuggled with me on the couch, nursing now and then. Violet watched with concern when I had a contraction, held my hand and said, “It’s okay, Mama.” When she knew I was okay, she smiled big and said, “Baby coming! Baby coming out of mama’s yoni!”
Mike and I walked. We walked down to Glen Cove and looked at the water. The night was black, slightly foggy and it was sprinkling. I held our huge umbrella. Mike went hatless. I was worried about his head. My contractions were regular and strong but not overwhelming at all. I felt good. I did not feel as if I was in labor, though, and figured it would all go away once I stopped moving.
Constance, Carolee and Melanie (the two assistants) arrived around 10:00 p.m. Everyone was in good spirits. I found that if I stood up, my contractions continued in intensity. I leaned against our large sofa and relaxed my lower body. I paced and paced, fearing sitting and the end of contractions. The midwives took my vitals and I asked Constance to check me. Earlier I told Jenny I would be disappointed if I was only at a 4, but I figured I was at a 4. “You’re at a 4, oh wait…make that a 5…and mostly effaced!” Okay, okay, I thought. Progress.
For an hour I chatted and paced behind the couch. I was getting bored of it all. My contractions were great but so unimpressive to me that I was just sure I was going to stall out. Constance told us that I had a lot of fluid; so much fluid, in fact, that the baby wasn’t really putting any pressure on my cervix. I decided that being a watched pot was not doing me any good. “I’m going to go upstairs go to bed.” Constance thought it was a great idea. Everyone marched upstairs with me and tucked me in. “Am I really in labor? Are you sure it’s not going to stop?” I asked Constance, like a kid asking if tomorrow was really Christmas. Constance looked at me and said I was really in labor. I believed her.
Everyone left the room.
11:00 p.m. and I relaxed into the bed, beginning my familiar meditation with my baby. Being the mother of two, often the only time I had for the baby within was at night. I would envision my labor, quick and easy, through meditation. I retreated into my mind and connected with my child. I told her it was okay to come down further in my pelvis. I envisioned her head lowering, and I told her it was time to be born. I saw my baby move into my pelvis and didn’t notice the rising contraction within my belly. I told her it was okay for my water to break and as I envisioned my water breaking…
My water broke.
No really, it did. It was amazing. My body jolted when it broke, surprised by the force behind it. I yelled, “Hey! Hello! HELLO!” But no one heard me. I yelled again. This time the whole gang heard. “I’m coming, honey!” Constance said with urgency. They arrived to me recounting what had just happened. Constance said I was amazing, that I had such a special connection with body and with my baby. I felt excited and overwhelmed with love. Love for my birth team and love for my special heart-child.
What I do know about the next two and a half hours is that I entered labor-land very quickly. I hardly remember details—it comes to me in waves of images, snippets of conversation and sense memory. I took a bath, I labored in the big brown chair, I tried laying down but it was terrible, I tried leaning against Mike and that didn’t do much for me. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop walking, moving, pacing. My body and mind wouldn’t rest. The contractions were intense but manageable. It seemed like things were dragging on. I sensed the room was tired and I yawned between nearly every contraction. When I entered transition, the time of biggest trepidation on my part, I was standing by my bed with one foot on the bed and one on the ground.
Transition is the time to face the greatest fear, look it in the eye and move through it. In my life I struggle with facing and simply being with pain or hurt. In the moments of a transition contraction, I see/sense/feel/be the pain and it takes all I have as a woman to face it and not let it consume me. Constance’s voice, her steady, strong voice often reminded me that I would be able to get to the other side in once piece, I would remain whole. Like a great shaman, she walked the path with me, supporting me with her love and strength.
I can’t do this. I’m going to die. “Maaaaaaaa mmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa.” Even hearing myself echo the sound, “ma-ma,” startled me. Was I calling for my own mother? Was I calling on all mothers? I don’t know. Anyone who knows me knows that my mother does not fulfill the role of mother in my life in a traditional sense and would also know that I would not call on her in my greatest time of need. I don’t know where those words came from, but I found myself saying them over and over. I think those words were my cry to be mothered. My need to be mothered. I don’t let anyone do this because most of the time I’ll resent them. I’m strong. I’m powerful. I don’t need anyone, especially another woman, helping me.But the truth is, I do. I fear so much: rejection, judgment, abandonment that I find it safer to simply rely on myself. Constance in her role as my midwife is really the only woman I’ve let fill this role without me resenting her later. The relationship is one that burns so bright for such a short time, perhaps I feel safer in it than in my day-to-day. Regardless, she is a kindrid, special woman whom I hold in the highest regard.
I’m going to die. Constance assured me I was not going to die. “Jesse, look at me.” I could not open my eyes. “Jesse, you have to face it to move through it. You can do this. Stay on top of it.” I do. And it’s time.
I move to the bed on all fours. Instinctively, I knew this is the best way for my baby to be born. I feel the urge to push as she slips past my tailbone. She felt so big, the urge to push is coupled with pain I didn’t remember having with Zoe. Constance tells me the baby is probably bigger, that it’s okay and I can do it. Ipushhhhhhhhhhh again and reach inside of myself to feel her head. She’s half way down. “She’s coming,” I say. She’s almost here. They ask me if I wanted to watch and I say I can’t move from this spot. “Someone wake up Violet.” No, no. We’ll wake her after. “Get the camera.”
Pushhhhhhhh! I feel her head against my perineum. I’m ripping. Help me. “You’re stretching beautifully.” Pushhhhhhh! Her head is born. I hear the assistants say, “Head!” to mark the time. “Come on baby, which way are you going to turn?” Constance asks. Pushhhhhhhh! The baby had so much room, she didn’t rotate her shoulders, coming straight out. I feel her body slide from mine in one motion. There is a rush of fluid. I feel immediate relief. It took just six minutes.
She cried straight away. My other girls didn’t—they were slow to start. I hear Constance say, “Jesse, hold your baby…” but I can’t move from my hands and knees position. They help me roll over, but her cord is short. They have to cut it before I can move. Jenny cut the cord this time. Finally, I am able to lie on my back and they give her to me. Oh, baby, baby. You’re here. We did it.
The time was 1:28 a.m., October 26, 2004. She weighed 7 lbs., 15 oz. and was 20.5 inches long. We named her Eleanor Paige. She had blonde hair like her sister, Violet. Because I had so much fluid, she hardly showed any signs of labor (cone head, bruises). When we wake Violet (we decided not to wake Zoe because she is harder to put back to sleep), she is elated. She especially loves the placenta lesson the midwife’s assistants give her. She comes and tells me about the “tree” in the bowl (the veins of the placenta look like a tree).
By 3:30 a.m. the midwives leave us and we all fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. A thankful sleep. Sweet, sweet…
By Jesse Michener
And baby makes…five.
My third child, a beautiful daughter, was born into the world last Tuesday morning. In the wee dark hours of a rainy October night, little Eleanor Paige safely made her way into this world in the attic of our schoolhouse home.
Her story begins last March. In the midst of a harried deadline forMothering magazine, I frantically searched for items I needed. My office was in our basement and things frequently got lost amid the unpacked boxes and general disorganization. In one such box, I found a home pregnancy test unused from when we were trying to conceive Zoe. I sat down and thought about when my period was due—always a tricky figure with my irregular cycles and doubly so because I had only had one flow since Zoe’s birth, nearly a year earlier. I decided that if I were a person with regular periods, I would be two weeks late. With no symptoms and no real belief I was pregnant, I took the test for fun. I decided it was good distraction from my chaotic day and when it was negative I could at least know I wasn’t pregnant.
The pregnancy line showed before the control line.
I am not a person for surprises. I can hardly keep my mouth shut when it comes to the holidays and birthdays. I don’t plan them well, I don’t keep them well. I like to know what is coming. A surprise pregnancy was not in the plan,thankyouverymuch. Zoe was just over a year old! My hands started to shake, my stomach immediately churned with nerves and the very idea of telling Mike about the pregnancy made me feel faint. My husband is a reasonable man, but he isn’t the type to deal with surprises well, either.
I called Jenny, my best friend, in England. “You don’t have to have the baby, you know.” Yes, I knew that. It wasn’t an option for me. She listened to me cry and relate my fears about Mike’s reaction and offered her love and support. I told her I was sure I’d get used to the idea and be happy, but that I didn’t know when that would be.
For some reason, I was terrified of telling Mike. I don’t really know why, but somehow I felt as if it were my fault. I realize it takes two people to make a pregnancy happen, but in my heightened emotional state, I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. I imagined him mad at me. My husband rarely even raises his voice, the fear I had was more that he would hold me solely accountable for this pregnancy—it was unrealistic and unfair. I’m sure I was projecting my fears and feelings onto him.
I decided to try and make the actual telling a little humorous. I taped the positive test to the door with yellow tape. I wrote the word, “Caution” on the tape. I saw him walk up to the door. He opened it without noticing the test but then did a double-take. “What does this mean?” He said very sternly. “What does this mean? Are you pregnant?”
All I could do was sob, “Yes.”
He rushed over to me and said, “Oh, that is wonderful! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I told him I thought he’d be mad at me and he looked at me with that “you’re-such-a-wacky-dame” look. “What a beautiful day to find out we’re having another baby!” He hugged me and said, “But we have to stop at three, okay?”
After I was sure my marriage was intact, I realized how unprepared we were to welcome another life into this world. Our cars were crappy and our house was too small. I believe that you can put your needs out to the universe and most of the time the universe responds. Sometimes it’s not what you expect, but it is often what you need. On a photo shoot later that spring, I found the house we were to move into—a remodeled turn-of-the-century schoolhouse. It was located 22 miles from the city, which was both good and bad. Mike would be commuting to Seattle each day and I would have to navigate transportation across the bridge to the Waldorf school in Tacoma. The schoolhouse was beautiful and serene, it seemed like an equal exchange.
The pregnancy was fairly uneventful. I didn’t get terrible morning sickness and had more energy than I had with my others. My weight gain was slow and steady and things were generally easy until September. September was a hard, hard month. All of the sudden my body turned on me. My pelvis began to ache with every movement, a condition known as Pubic Symphsis Disorder. The ligament that holds the two halves of the pubic bone together starts to soften in preparation for the baby’s decent. The only problem is that the bones tend to scat and jive during the process resulting in movement = pain.
Had it not been for my trance-like obsession with getting and keeping the house clean, things might have been okay. I was a like a woman possessed, though, and my to-do list for the house was never ending. My children seemed to be in a war against me: making messes, taking off diapers and peeing (or worse) on the floor, cutting and pasting things where things that should not be cut and pasted—it was enough to drive a hugely-pregnant woman mad. And it did, at times. My body was so tired, in so much constant pain, that I felt beaten and worn as I approached 36 weeks.
And then, all of the sudden, I didn’t. One day I woke up and felt a little better. The next day I felt even better. By the end of my 37th week, I was feeling like a new woman. The house was clean, the labor preparations were done and I was more and more ready to have our wee surprise girl.
Mike’s contract at Seattle’s Intiman theatre ended in my 38th week. He found work the following week. That left one week work-free because his new job started on November 1st. This was all during my 39th-40th week of pregnancy. After trying all of the low-intervention home induction techniques (walking, sex, spicy food), I decided I was ready for some big guns. Like my labor with Zoe, I wanted to kick-start this labor with castor oil. I’m not one for interventions and knew that if my body wasn’t ready, it wouldn’t start labor. This was the only week Mike was home and I was going to do everything I could to have her then.
On Monday the 25th, we went to my midwife appointment. My midwife, a beautiful woman named Constance, asked me what I had in mind for jump-starting labor. When I said castor oil, we both knew how serious I was. She got on her game face and the tenor of the appointment changed. She remarked that I looked ready, that I seemed really clear and centered. I felt that way, too.
“Do you want me to strip your membranes?” she asked. “Yup. Do it all. Let’s get this show on the road.” She reached in to feel my cervix. I was at a 1 and very soft. She massaged the cervix a bit and worked her fingers slowly between the bag of waters and my uterine wall. By the time she was finished, I was dilated to a 2. It was not a pain-free experience, but it was well worth it if it would get labor started. My orders were to go home, blend 3 oz of castor oil with 1 pint of ice cream and one cup milk. After I had chugged that, I was to take a hot shower, then a long walk and then have sex. At the end of four hours, I was to call Constance with an update.
The ice cream of choice this go-around was plain chocolate. At 1:00 p.m., I mixed the shake in the blender as Mike got busy doing various last-minute house hold things. The house was pretty messy, so after my shower, I got busy cleaning. Zoe napped and Violet drifted from me to Mike, helping when she could. The castor oil cleaned my bowels fairly quickly and painlessly. The contractions I had been having for days seemed to regulate a bit and pick up—ever so slightly—in intensity. At the end of four hours I was disheartened because the contractions I was having seemed very mild. With Zoe, my water broke after the mandated sex portion of the instructions. No such luck this time. I figured I’d have to repeat the castor oil—which I didn’t know that I was capable of because it was so disgusting the thought of retaking it made me want to vomit.
At 5:00 p.m. I called Constance. I related that, yes, I was contracting about every 4 - 6 minutes. They were really mild and I was to keep busy, talk, etc. though them. Although they were regular and more intense, I was not convinced was is labor. She advised me not to retake the castor oil—if I was in early labor, the contractions were doing the job of further effacing me and the big guns would come out later. If not, I could retake the castor oil the next day after a good night’s rest. I told her I’d call her before I went to bed.
Almost immediately, things started to get interesting. Not convincing, but interesting. At 8:30 p.m. we called Constance because, wouldn’t you know it, my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart. They were close but they were not impressive, not “knock-your-socks-off contractions.” I did feel good making vocalizations through them. Constance found it very interesting I was vocalizing and said they would come right away—which meant they’d be there in 1-2 hours because of our location. We called Jenny and asked her to come out. I needed a distraction and knew that the girls would love having her there if we wanted to go for a walk.
When Jenny arrived, we all danced to Dar Williams, “The Christians and the Pagans” and Jenny massaged my hands and feet. Zoe snuggled with me on the couch, nursing now and then. Violet watched with concern when I had a contraction, held my hand and said, “It’s okay, Mama.” When she knew I was okay, she smiled big and said, “Baby coming! Baby coming out of mama’s yoni!”
Mike and I walked. We walked down to Glen Cove and looked at the water. The night was black, slightly foggy and it was sprinkling. I held our huge umbrella. Mike went hatless. I was worried about his head. My contractions were regular and strong but not overwhelming at all. I felt good. I did not feel as if I was in labor, though, and figured it would all go away once I stopped moving.
Constance, Carolee and Melanie (the two assistants) arrived around 10:00 p.m. Everyone was in good spirits. I found that if I stood up, my contractions continued in intensity. I leaned against our large sofa and relaxed my lower body. I paced and paced, fearing sitting and the end of contractions. The midwives took my vitals and I asked Constance to check me. Earlier I told Jenny I would be disappointed if I was only at a 4, but I figured I was at a 4. “You’re at a 4, oh wait…make that a 5…and mostly effaced!” Okay, okay, I thought. Progress.
For an hour I chatted and paced behind the couch. I was getting bored of it all. My contractions were great but so unimpressive to me that I was just sure I was going to stall out. Constance told us that I had a lot of fluid; so much fluid, in fact, that the baby wasn’t really putting any pressure on my cervix. I decided that being a watched pot was not doing me any good. “I’m going to go upstairs go to bed.” Constance thought it was a great idea. Everyone marched upstairs with me and tucked me in. “Am I really in labor? Are you sure it’s not going to stop?” I asked Constance, like a kid asking if tomorrow was really Christmas. Constance looked at me and said I was really in labor. I believed her.
Everyone left the room.
11:00 p.m. and I relaxed into the bed, beginning my familiar meditation with my baby. Being the mother of two, often the only time I had for the baby within was at night. I would envision my labor, quick and easy, through meditation. I retreated into my mind and connected with my child. I told her it was okay to come down further in my pelvis. I envisioned her head lowering, and I told her it was time to be born. I saw my baby move into my pelvis and didn’t notice the rising contraction within my belly. I told her it was okay for my water to break and as I envisioned my water breaking…
My water broke.
No really, it did. It was amazing. My body jolted when it broke, surprised by the force behind it. I yelled, “Hey! Hello! HELLO!” But no one heard me. I yelled again. This time the whole gang heard. “I’m coming, honey!” Constance said with urgency. They arrived to me recounting what had just happened. Constance said I was amazing, that I had such a special connection with body and with my baby. I felt excited and overwhelmed with love. Love for my birth team and love for my special heart-child.
What I do know about the next two and a half hours is that I entered labor-land very quickly. I hardly remember details—it comes to me in waves of images, snippets of conversation and sense memory. I took a bath, I labored in the big brown chair, I tried laying down but it was terrible, I tried leaning against Mike and that didn’t do much for me. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop walking, moving, pacing. My body and mind wouldn’t rest. The contractions were intense but manageable. It seemed like things were dragging on. I sensed the room was tired and I yawned between nearly every contraction. When I entered transition, the time of biggest trepidation on my part, I was standing by my bed with one foot on the bed and one on the ground.
Transition is the time to face the greatest fear, look it in the eye and move through it. In my life I struggle with facing and simply being with pain or hurt. In the moments of a transition contraction, I see/sense/feel/be the pain and it takes all I have as a woman to face it and not let it consume me. Constance’s voice, her steady, strong voice often reminded me that I would be able to get to the other side in once piece, I would remain whole. Like a great shaman, she walked the path with me, supporting me with her love and strength.
I can’t do this. I’m going to die. “Maaaaaaaa mmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa.” Even hearing myself echo the sound, “ma-ma,” startled me. Was I calling for my own mother? Was I calling on all mothers? I don’t know. Anyone who knows me knows that my mother does not fulfill the role of mother in my life in a traditional sense and would also know that I would not call on her in my greatest time of need. I don’t know where those words came from, but I found myself saying them over and over. I think those words were my cry to be mothered. My need to be mothered. I don’t let anyone do this because most of the time I’ll resent them. I’m strong. I’m powerful. I don’t need anyone, especially another woman, helping me.But the truth is, I do. I fear so much: rejection, judgment, abandonment that I find it safer to simply rely on myself. Constance in her role as my midwife is really the only woman I’ve let fill this role without me resenting her later. The relationship is one that burns so bright for such a short time, perhaps I feel safer in it than in my day-to-day. Regardless, she is a kindrid, special woman whom I hold in the highest regard.
I’m going to die. Constance assured me I was not going to die. “Jesse, look at me.” I could not open my eyes. “Jesse, you have to face it to move through it. You can do this. Stay on top of it.” I do. And it’s time.
I move to the bed on all fours. Instinctively, I knew this is the best way for my baby to be born. I feel the urge to push as she slips past my tailbone. She felt so big, the urge to push is coupled with pain I didn’t remember having with Zoe. Constance tells me the baby is probably bigger, that it’s okay and I can do it. Ipushhhhhhhhhhh again and reach inside of myself to feel her head. She’s half way down. “She’s coming,” I say. She’s almost here. They ask me if I wanted to watch and I say I can’t move from this spot. “Someone wake up Violet.” No, no. We’ll wake her after. “Get the camera.”
Pushhhhhhhh! I feel her head against my perineum. I’m ripping. Help me. “You’re stretching beautifully.” Pushhhhhhh! Her head is born. I hear the assistants say, “Head!” to mark the time. “Come on baby, which way are you going to turn?” Constance asks. Pushhhhhhhh! The baby had so much room, she didn’t rotate her shoulders, coming straight out. I feel her body slide from mine in one motion. There is a rush of fluid. I feel immediate relief. It took just six minutes.
She cried straight away. My other girls didn’t—they were slow to start. I hear Constance say, “Jesse, hold your baby…” but I can’t move from my hands and knees position. They help me roll over, but her cord is short. They have to cut it before I can move. Jenny cut the cord this time. Finally, I am able to lie on my back and they give her to me. Oh, baby, baby. You’re here. We did it.
The time was 1:28 a.m., October 26, 2004. She weighed 7 lbs., 15 oz. and was 20.5 inches long. We named her Eleanor Paige. She had blonde hair like her sister, Violet. Because I had so much fluid, she hardly showed any signs of labor (cone head, bruises). When we wake Violet (we decided not to wake Zoe because she is harder to put back to sleep), she is elated. She especially loves the placenta lesson the midwife’s assistants give her. She comes and tells me about the “tree” in the bowl (the veins of the placenta look like a tree).
By 3:30 a.m. the midwives leave us and we all fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. A thankful sleep. Sweet, sweet…
Birth Story 4
Amelia's Birth Story
By Rachel Cook
By Rachel Cook
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As a doula, birth assistant and student midwife I had experienced birth many times. At 40w6d and 6cm dilated with baby number three, I decided to let my midwife break my water as a method of induction. I was planning my first out of hospital birth; both of my sons were born with an epidural (the first was a planned epidural and the second was from exhaustion after 36 hours of labor). I went home and walked and walked, but no contractions. My photographer came over “just to make sure” I wasn't in labor, as everyone (including myself, husband, midwife and doula) couldn't believe that nothing was happening. At about 11PM (13 hours after my water broke) I decided to go to bed, with plans for castor oil in the morning.
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I woke up at 2:18am, to a wonderful contraction. My plan was to “ignore the contractions” as long as possible, so I went back to sleep. At 2:41am, I had another one - the intensity much worse, but I figured that was only because I was lying down. I notified my husband , then dozed off again. 20 minutes later - one more. I was starting to get annoyed. 20 minute intervals...to start? Oh, this is going to take a long time. A good friend of mine had told me she took a shower when she first went into labor and it seemed to speed things up. So, I rolled myself out of bed and BAM had another contraction. My husband said, “Let's call the midwife!” “No, no...they are twenty minutes apart; let's wait,” I replied. Then BAM, six minutes later, then THREE minutes later – I found myself curled over a birth ball on the ground next to my bed, dialing my birth team- hoping they would answer before another contraction hit.
I got myself to the living room, requesting hip squeezes from my husband during each contraction, STILL curled on my hands and knees over the birth ball. My photographer got there first; she said she could hear me outside before she came in. I remember thinking “My pain tolerance must be extremely low” because I was needing to work so hard during each contraction. They were three minutes apart lasting about 90 seconds, something HAD to be wrong-I didn't know how much longer I could do this for. My husband turned on some music and I immediately asked him to turn it off; I couldn't focus with it on.
My doula got there next and helped finish setting up the tub. I asked her to put on the TENS unit and she smiled and said “I don't think it's going to help at this point.” I didn't care, I wanted it on and I wanted my husband to keep doing hip squeezes. When my midwife arrived, I was so relieved! For some reason I thought that her presence was going to make the contractions hurt less...like the relief one feels when the anesthesiologist walks into the room. Well that didn't happen. In fact, I feel like my body said “GREAT! The midwife is here-let's release the contraction flood gates!”
I got into the tub hoping for some relief and, at first, that's what I felt, until I had another contraction, then another, then another. I wasn't getting a break and it was frustrating me! How was I supposed to “take it one contraction at a time” if I couldn't recognize the end of one and the beginning of another? My husband climbed in the tub with me and kept doing hip squeezes until the midwife asked me to change positions. I replied with “No...uhh, okay.” Moving to a semi-reclined position against my husband was agonizing. I thought about all the people I'd seen give birth in this position---what were they THINKING!? It was terrible, my butt kept floating up and my husband couldn't apply pressure on my pelvis-but I followed directions.
My midwife asked to check my cervix and I told her “okay” but I didn't want to know what I was dilated to. (I had experienced getting stuck at 7cm with my second son and couldn't bear the thought of it again) She checked me and I immediately changed my mind, “okay, what am I at?”
“A really soft 7.” She said. Seven! NOOOOOO! The dreaded seven (realistically, anything other than “you're complete, time to push her out!” would have upset me)! I couldn't do this for another 5 hours! (why I had 5 hours in my head, I don't know) Slowly my contractions drifted farther apart and got less and less intense. I was planning my escape in my head, estimating how much time it would take to get from here to the car, then to the hospital, and how much time it would take for them to ask their annoying admitting questions and get my blood work done then FINALLY get my epidural. Three hours was what I figured- THREE HOURS!? No option sounded good; leaving was going to hurt way worse and take way too long, but staying meant I was doing nothing to escape from the pain.
My obsessive thoughts were interrupted with my midwife asking, “what are you thinking about? Your contractions are more than 10 minutes apart now, you're letting your mind take over. It's time to stop thinking and let your body have this baby.” After noticing my doula, birth assistant and photographer had left the room, my response was, “I'm done. I want to go to the hospital.” I wasn't apologetic, I didn't care, I was stuck and needed an epidural to have this baby. I did not want to do this anymore. She responded with something like “Rachael, you can do this, you've come so far, but if you want to go to the hospital, we can do that.” At that point, however, I couldn't imagine actually getting OUT of the tub. Defeated, I then asked her to make the contractions stop. I explained that if I got a little rest, I could finish, but I wanted her to just make them stop. I genuinely believed that she had some sort of midwife trick to make these contractions go away, even for a little bit. When she replied, “I can't make them stop,” my husband let out a quiet giggle and I yelled “DON'T LAUGH AT ME!”
Then a HUGE contraction started building. I tried to keep my voice low as I threw myself back into the hands and knees position. I felt myself getting louder and louder and louder. As long as my voice was louder than this contraction, I felt like I could get through it. Immediately I heard my birth team scurry into the room. Another contraction came a minute or so later, just as huge and intense. The third one came and I subconsciously decided that I was going to push her out, regardless of if my uncooperative cervix was ready. Bearing down at the end of the contraction made it hurt a lot less. I was trying to mask my voice, so no one could tell I was pushing. I was so scared my midwife was going to say, “Rachael, you need to stop pushing, your body isn't ready.” But she never did. So I pushed again. I thought, “OK body, do what you need to do. Just hurry up will you?”
I had a friend that said she checked her own cervix toward the end of labor and it encouraged her to go on. Thinking about that, I reached down hoping to feel a more dilated cervix than before and to my astonishment I was fully dilated and I could feel her head! I yelled, “Oh my God, I can feel her head! I can do this!” It was time. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't care. An encouraged and calm feeling fell over me. I worked so hard to push and it hurt (a lot), but I knew my baby girl was going to be in my arms soon! My husband, still working as hard as he could doing hip squeezes, pushed back against me during each contraction. I felt like we were pushing this baby out together. His hands did not leave my body the entire time I was in labor, we were completely connected.
We had been keeping our daughter's name a secret, but I felt that everyone should know her name so they could greet her by name “Her name is Amelia!” I felt the atmosphere of the room lift. Everyone knew I could do it and that my little angel would be here soon. Two big contractions later, I felt her head come out. I pushed with all my might and felt one shoulder, then the other and in less than a second I reached down, leaned back and pulled my baby on my chest. I started sobbing, “She's here, oh my God, she's here!” Everyone in the room was teary as I wrapped my arms around my little girl that I had waited 41 weeks to meet.
I felt so strong, so empowered, I DID it! I didn't need drugs to have my baby, my body was strong enough to do it all along! I felt her cord pulse while she was still getting oxygen and nutrients from my body. I looked at her body and said “wow, she's so small...ish.” Noticing her chubby cheeks and dimpled elbows and knees. I looked up and noticed it was light outside. “What time is it?” “Just after seven” the birth assistant responded. “In the morning!?” I couldn't believe I had only been in labor for four hours! Turns out it was only 30 minutes from the time I said I wanted to go to the hospital, to the time she was was born!
My Amelia was 9lbs 3oz, 21 ½ inches long and the most beautiful birth experience I have ever had.
I got myself to the living room, requesting hip squeezes from my husband during each contraction, STILL curled on my hands and knees over the birth ball. My photographer got there first; she said she could hear me outside before she came in. I remember thinking “My pain tolerance must be extremely low” because I was needing to work so hard during each contraction. They were three minutes apart lasting about 90 seconds, something HAD to be wrong-I didn't know how much longer I could do this for. My husband turned on some music and I immediately asked him to turn it off; I couldn't focus with it on.
My doula got there next and helped finish setting up the tub. I asked her to put on the TENS unit and she smiled and said “I don't think it's going to help at this point.” I didn't care, I wanted it on and I wanted my husband to keep doing hip squeezes. When my midwife arrived, I was so relieved! For some reason I thought that her presence was going to make the contractions hurt less...like the relief one feels when the anesthesiologist walks into the room. Well that didn't happen. In fact, I feel like my body said “GREAT! The midwife is here-let's release the contraction flood gates!”
I got into the tub hoping for some relief and, at first, that's what I felt, until I had another contraction, then another, then another. I wasn't getting a break and it was frustrating me! How was I supposed to “take it one contraction at a time” if I couldn't recognize the end of one and the beginning of another? My husband climbed in the tub with me and kept doing hip squeezes until the midwife asked me to change positions. I replied with “No...uhh, okay.” Moving to a semi-reclined position against my husband was agonizing. I thought about all the people I'd seen give birth in this position---what were they THINKING!? It was terrible, my butt kept floating up and my husband couldn't apply pressure on my pelvis-but I followed directions.
My midwife asked to check my cervix and I told her “okay” but I didn't want to know what I was dilated to. (I had experienced getting stuck at 7cm with my second son and couldn't bear the thought of it again) She checked me and I immediately changed my mind, “okay, what am I at?”
“A really soft 7.” She said. Seven! NOOOOOO! The dreaded seven (realistically, anything other than “you're complete, time to push her out!” would have upset me)! I couldn't do this for another 5 hours! (why I had 5 hours in my head, I don't know) Slowly my contractions drifted farther apart and got less and less intense. I was planning my escape in my head, estimating how much time it would take to get from here to the car, then to the hospital, and how much time it would take for them to ask their annoying admitting questions and get my blood work done then FINALLY get my epidural. Three hours was what I figured- THREE HOURS!? No option sounded good; leaving was going to hurt way worse and take way too long, but staying meant I was doing nothing to escape from the pain.
My obsessive thoughts were interrupted with my midwife asking, “what are you thinking about? Your contractions are more than 10 minutes apart now, you're letting your mind take over. It's time to stop thinking and let your body have this baby.” After noticing my doula, birth assistant and photographer had left the room, my response was, “I'm done. I want to go to the hospital.” I wasn't apologetic, I didn't care, I was stuck and needed an epidural to have this baby. I did not want to do this anymore. She responded with something like “Rachael, you can do this, you've come so far, but if you want to go to the hospital, we can do that.” At that point, however, I couldn't imagine actually getting OUT of the tub. Defeated, I then asked her to make the contractions stop. I explained that if I got a little rest, I could finish, but I wanted her to just make them stop. I genuinely believed that she had some sort of midwife trick to make these contractions go away, even for a little bit. When she replied, “I can't make them stop,” my husband let out a quiet giggle and I yelled “DON'T LAUGH AT ME!”
Then a HUGE contraction started building. I tried to keep my voice low as I threw myself back into the hands and knees position. I felt myself getting louder and louder and louder. As long as my voice was louder than this contraction, I felt like I could get through it. Immediately I heard my birth team scurry into the room. Another contraction came a minute or so later, just as huge and intense. The third one came and I subconsciously decided that I was going to push her out, regardless of if my uncooperative cervix was ready. Bearing down at the end of the contraction made it hurt a lot less. I was trying to mask my voice, so no one could tell I was pushing. I was so scared my midwife was going to say, “Rachael, you need to stop pushing, your body isn't ready.” But she never did. So I pushed again. I thought, “OK body, do what you need to do. Just hurry up will you?”
I had a friend that said she checked her own cervix toward the end of labor and it encouraged her to go on. Thinking about that, I reached down hoping to feel a more dilated cervix than before and to my astonishment I was fully dilated and I could feel her head! I yelled, “Oh my God, I can feel her head! I can do this!” It was time. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't care. An encouraged and calm feeling fell over me. I worked so hard to push and it hurt (a lot), but I knew my baby girl was going to be in my arms soon! My husband, still working as hard as he could doing hip squeezes, pushed back against me during each contraction. I felt like we were pushing this baby out together. His hands did not leave my body the entire time I was in labor, we were completely connected.
We had been keeping our daughter's name a secret, but I felt that everyone should know her name so they could greet her by name “Her name is Amelia!” I felt the atmosphere of the room lift. Everyone knew I could do it and that my little angel would be here soon. Two big contractions later, I felt her head come out. I pushed with all my might and felt one shoulder, then the other and in less than a second I reached down, leaned back and pulled my baby on my chest. I started sobbing, “She's here, oh my God, she's here!” Everyone in the room was teary as I wrapped my arms around my little girl that I had waited 41 weeks to meet.
I felt so strong, so empowered, I DID it! I didn't need drugs to have my baby, my body was strong enough to do it all along! I felt her cord pulse while she was still getting oxygen and nutrients from my body. I looked at her body and said “wow, she's so small...ish.” Noticing her chubby cheeks and dimpled elbows and knees. I looked up and noticed it was light outside. “What time is it?” “Just after seven” the birth assistant responded. “In the morning!?” I couldn't believe I had only been in labor for four hours! Turns out it was only 30 minutes from the time I said I wanted to go to the hospital, to the time she was was born!
My Amelia was 9lbs 3oz, 21 ½ inches long and the most beautiful birth experience I have ever had.
Birth Story 5
Around the Circle
By Stephanie Nance
Well, it’s been slightly over a year since our birth story began and I’m now sitting down to fill out this purple questionnaire about our experience with Around the Circle Midwifery. Go figure. “Oh wait ‘till the baby comes and then I’ll have a lot of downtime to do things at home, and projects and such while he/she sleeps.” Said every new mom ever. It’s okay to admit if you were disillusioned as I was.
Our story began pre-conception (How much time ya got?). As long as I can remember I’ve had an irrational fear of needles, knives, slicing (and therefore episiotomies), the unknown (and therefore contractions) and, well, giving birth in general. But when open enrollment came along for my husband’s insurance, we thought we’d shop around for local places we thought we might want to maybe consider possibly delivering a baby if we were to potentially discuss thinking about trying to entertain the idea about conceiving said baby oh I don’t know sometime in the next six months. Knowing my medicinal druthers, my husband recommended we check out one of the tours of the Birth House and Around the Circle. We ended up taking a tour late May and, as we were the only potential family on the tour, chatted with Carolee a great deal. By the end of the tour I end up spilling my guts and babbling to Carolee about how we aren’t sure when we’ll be ready for kids, and by the way I’m terrified for when we are and she so wisely and reassuringly said something to the effect of, “Yes, but when you do, scary as it may seem, you’ll have a sweet, beautiful little baby in the end.” And, decidedly unplanned, our son was born just shy of 10 months later in that very room.
Choosing to partner with Around the Circle for our pregnancy provided us with exactly the experience we wanted to have. The midwives took their time with us at each appointment to ask questions about how I was feeling, how was everything going, remind us of things we should start to think about at various milestones, and always had plenty of time to answer any questions we had as new parents, silly or not silly as they may have been. We were very fortunate to have a smooth sailing pregnancy, nothing difficult or unusual that we had to face. Until the time came was I was pushing two weeks post-due date. Carolee handled my emotional breakdown, “What am I doing wrooooooonnnngggg?!” with grace and love. Constance, knowing how much I wanted to let things happen naturally but also knowing how much I wanted to deliver there at the Birth House prescribed various things we could do to nudge the process along as we neared the two-weeks-late mark, meaning I was required by law to have my care transferred to a hospital. Thanks to the nudging we made it just in the nick of time.
Laborland was …well, long. Things moved very slowly, but I could never have imagined – or expected – I’d get the respect, support, patience, love and care that I received during our boy’s birth. Lisa, who was interning at the time, was incredibly attentive and encouraging – my cheerleader the whole way. Her bedside manner is impeccable; she will make a fantastic midwife. Constance was nothing short of inspiring. I was facing labor spiritually, and she was absolutely respectful of my beliefs and boundaries. When she became uncomfortable with the lack of progress, she was both delicate and assertive with her recommendations and I never felt like a bystander in my own labor. She did recommend a potential hospital transfer at a couple of points, but each time she would provide an option 2 that was more aligned with our aim. I trusted 100% that the safe delivery of our baby was her priority one and if a trip to St. Pete’s was the only way she could see us getting there, I know she would have insisted. But we took option 2 every time. And thankfully, option 2 continued to take us where we needed to be in order to get back on track. Repeat process several more times.
Also impressive was that, although I was slightly unaware at the amount of time passing, the day and a half it took for that baby to come out – plus the four other babies delivered that weekend – never showed on the faces of those women. My husband didn’t have the physical effects of labor keeping him awake and both ladies took turns to step in for him as my partner while he rested a little. Although I wasn’t conscious of actual clock time, I did eventually hit a breaking point when I thought I couldn’t possibly labor a minute longer. And just as quickly as that moment hit me, Constance actually turned into a super hero sans cape. Literally. She was heroic. I’m fairly certain that few midwives and fewer MD’s would have gone to the lengths that she did to accommodate what needed to be done to take me to the next phase of labor (Thank you for that Constance).
If I look back on the last couple hours of delivery and describe it in a word, it’s teamwork. I was NOT the only one working in there by any stretch of the imagination. Along with Lisa, Constance and my husband, add the infallible Rhonda, the birth assistant, to the equation. We’re all five in there on that small bed and I’m being lifted and moved and held various ways in order to accomplish the right position for pushing combined with the best position for the baby’s heartbeat. My favorite memory of labor was during the last several pushes. Over my right shoulder is my husband reminding me to breath at the right times (breathing, not something I ever thought I’d need help with.), on my left is Rhonda holding my position, down and center is Constance ready for the catch and above Constance’s head holding my hands and bracing me for the push is Lisa. In. CREDIBLE. I won’t go on and on (any more) about the thrilling hours post-labor, but if I could have one wish it would be to have the same exact experience for baby #2 when the time comes…shaving a day or so off of the duration.
It took months for my husband and me to be able to share our birth story with friends or family without welling up with tears of gratitude, humbleness, awe, and joy. And we were sad when the 8 weeks post-labor care came to an end, knowing we would no longer see these people we considered family on a regular basis.
I recently was out on a mom-date and chatting with a friend who shared her experience with the Around the Circle midwives. Within a vastly different birth story that did ultimately end in the hospital, her life was altered by the same women. The care and support they give in earnest while at the Birth House followed and stayed with her until her son was delivered at St. Pete’s. It was actually hilarious, with her experiencing similar overwhelming emotions in recounting her story to me, here we were in the restaurant booth practically sobbing about how remarkable these women are. Our kids have moved beyond tiny, new infant and are toddling around saying uh-oh and uhh? But, each time the topic has come up we can’t help but agree about the midwives of Around the Circle, “Aren’t they amazing?” and “Oh they are so…just…magical” and “…the most incredible women” and “They are beautiful” followed quickly by my favorite one that recently came from my dear, wise friend, “They are beautiful teachers of motherhood.” Well said indeed.
By Stephanie Nance
Well, it’s been slightly over a year since our birth story began and I’m now sitting down to fill out this purple questionnaire about our experience with Around the Circle Midwifery. Go figure. “Oh wait ‘till the baby comes and then I’ll have a lot of downtime to do things at home, and projects and such while he/she sleeps.” Said every new mom ever. It’s okay to admit if you were disillusioned as I was.
Our story began pre-conception (How much time ya got?). As long as I can remember I’ve had an irrational fear of needles, knives, slicing (and therefore episiotomies), the unknown (and therefore contractions) and, well, giving birth in general. But when open enrollment came along for my husband’s insurance, we thought we’d shop around for local places we thought we might want to maybe consider possibly delivering a baby if we were to potentially discuss thinking about trying to entertain the idea about conceiving said baby oh I don’t know sometime in the next six months. Knowing my medicinal druthers, my husband recommended we check out one of the tours of the Birth House and Around the Circle. We ended up taking a tour late May and, as we were the only potential family on the tour, chatted with Carolee a great deal. By the end of the tour I end up spilling my guts and babbling to Carolee about how we aren’t sure when we’ll be ready for kids, and by the way I’m terrified for when we are and she so wisely and reassuringly said something to the effect of, “Yes, but when you do, scary as it may seem, you’ll have a sweet, beautiful little baby in the end.” And, decidedly unplanned, our son was born just shy of 10 months later in that very room.
Choosing to partner with Around the Circle for our pregnancy provided us with exactly the experience we wanted to have. The midwives took their time with us at each appointment to ask questions about how I was feeling, how was everything going, remind us of things we should start to think about at various milestones, and always had plenty of time to answer any questions we had as new parents, silly or not silly as they may have been. We were very fortunate to have a smooth sailing pregnancy, nothing difficult or unusual that we had to face. Until the time came was I was pushing two weeks post-due date. Carolee handled my emotional breakdown, “What am I doing wrooooooonnnngggg?!” with grace and love. Constance, knowing how much I wanted to let things happen naturally but also knowing how much I wanted to deliver there at the Birth House prescribed various things we could do to nudge the process along as we neared the two-weeks-late mark, meaning I was required by law to have my care transferred to a hospital. Thanks to the nudging we made it just in the nick of time.
Laborland was …well, long. Things moved very slowly, but I could never have imagined – or expected – I’d get the respect, support, patience, love and care that I received during our boy’s birth. Lisa, who was interning at the time, was incredibly attentive and encouraging – my cheerleader the whole way. Her bedside manner is impeccable; she will make a fantastic midwife. Constance was nothing short of inspiring. I was facing labor spiritually, and she was absolutely respectful of my beliefs and boundaries. When she became uncomfortable with the lack of progress, she was both delicate and assertive with her recommendations and I never felt like a bystander in my own labor. She did recommend a potential hospital transfer at a couple of points, but each time she would provide an option 2 that was more aligned with our aim. I trusted 100% that the safe delivery of our baby was her priority one and if a trip to St. Pete’s was the only way she could see us getting there, I know she would have insisted. But we took option 2 every time. And thankfully, option 2 continued to take us where we needed to be in order to get back on track. Repeat process several more times.
Also impressive was that, although I was slightly unaware at the amount of time passing, the day and a half it took for that baby to come out – plus the four other babies delivered that weekend – never showed on the faces of those women. My husband didn’t have the physical effects of labor keeping him awake and both ladies took turns to step in for him as my partner while he rested a little. Although I wasn’t conscious of actual clock time, I did eventually hit a breaking point when I thought I couldn’t possibly labor a minute longer. And just as quickly as that moment hit me, Constance actually turned into a super hero sans cape. Literally. She was heroic. I’m fairly certain that few midwives and fewer MD’s would have gone to the lengths that she did to accommodate what needed to be done to take me to the next phase of labor (Thank you for that Constance).
If I look back on the last couple hours of delivery and describe it in a word, it’s teamwork. I was NOT the only one working in there by any stretch of the imagination. Along with Lisa, Constance and my husband, add the infallible Rhonda, the birth assistant, to the equation. We’re all five in there on that small bed and I’m being lifted and moved and held various ways in order to accomplish the right position for pushing combined with the best position for the baby’s heartbeat. My favorite memory of labor was during the last several pushes. Over my right shoulder is my husband reminding me to breath at the right times (breathing, not something I ever thought I’d need help with.), on my left is Rhonda holding my position, down and center is Constance ready for the catch and above Constance’s head holding my hands and bracing me for the push is Lisa. In. CREDIBLE. I won’t go on and on (any more) about the thrilling hours post-labor, but if I could have one wish it would be to have the same exact experience for baby #2 when the time comes…shaving a day or so off of the duration.
It took months for my husband and me to be able to share our birth story with friends or family without welling up with tears of gratitude, humbleness, awe, and joy. And we were sad when the 8 weeks post-labor care came to an end, knowing we would no longer see these people we considered family on a regular basis.
I recently was out on a mom-date and chatting with a friend who shared her experience with the Around the Circle midwives. Within a vastly different birth story that did ultimately end in the hospital, her life was altered by the same women. The care and support they give in earnest while at the Birth House followed and stayed with her until her son was delivered at St. Pete’s. It was actually hilarious, with her experiencing similar overwhelming emotions in recounting her story to me, here we were in the restaurant booth practically sobbing about how remarkable these women are. Our kids have moved beyond tiny, new infant and are toddling around saying uh-oh and uhh? But, each time the topic has come up we can’t help but agree about the midwives of Around the Circle, “Aren’t they amazing?” and “Oh they are so…just…magical” and “…the most incredible women” and “They are beautiful” followed quickly by my favorite one that recently came from my dear, wise friend, “They are beautiful teachers of motherhood.” Well said indeed.
