How I Came to Be
I have thought much about whether I should publish my personal birth stories here. However, I must make this website special by being as personal as I can. At the very least, my hope is that it will help or inspire someone. After all, I wouldn't be here without it. My first birth was a cesarean and my second a waterbirth at home.
Some may brush it off deciding its probably 'another negative hospital story'. What I have found is those who read it ~ are meant to. I don't feel it is a story like that. My heart is with gentle birth and treatment wherever it happens, so I am not 'anti' hospital. For me personally though, the hospital was the wrong place for me to have a healthy birth.
This story was written from a place of wisdom and understanding ~ not anger. Sure, some things happened at the hospital that caused changes in my labor and birth. Ultimately, it wasn't the hospital that interfered. My beautiful son was born there and it will forever be a special place.
This is a story about someone finding their voice. Finding confidence in herself and courage to change her life. Standing up for what she knew she needed, her baby needed, and her family needed.
The first section is devoted to my first birth, followed by my second. Then there is a section of things I have learned along the way and encouragement for others after. It has been submitted to a book (short versions will soon be sent to Midwifery Today and Mothering magazines) to help other's overcome the same obstacles.
This story is long ~ we were encouraged to be honest and tell everything, including how we coped and recovered from a first cesarean. So, settle into a cozy place, grab a cup of tea (or wine!), some chocolate, and please enjoy!
If you have had a similar experience, or wish for a more gentle birth the next time around, you may need some tissue! This story is a catalyst for change, and stories such as this one are becoming more and more common. It all starts with people like me and you. :)
Some may brush it off deciding its probably 'another negative hospital story'. What I have found is those who read it ~ are meant to. I don't feel it is a story like that. My heart is with gentle birth and treatment wherever it happens, so I am not 'anti' hospital. For me personally though, the hospital was the wrong place for me to have a healthy birth.
This story was written from a place of wisdom and understanding ~ not anger. Sure, some things happened at the hospital that caused changes in my labor and birth. Ultimately, it wasn't the hospital that interfered. My beautiful son was born there and it will forever be a special place.
This is a story about someone finding their voice. Finding confidence in herself and courage to change her life. Standing up for what she knew she needed, her baby needed, and her family needed.
The first section is devoted to my first birth, followed by my second. Then there is a section of things I have learned along the way and encouragement for others after. It has been submitted to a book (short versions will soon be sent to Midwifery Today and Mothering magazines) to help other's overcome the same obstacles.
This story is long ~ we were encouraged to be honest and tell everything, including how we coped and recovered from a first cesarean. So, settle into a cozy place, grab a cup of tea (or wine!), some chocolate, and please enjoy!
If you have had a similar experience, or wish for a more gentle birth the next time around, you may need some tissue! This story is a catalyst for change, and stories such as this one are becoming more and more common. It all starts with people like me and you. :)
A Bittersweet Peace (written September 2010)
Today is my second son’s two week birthday. My family and I are celebrating my beautiful and hard-earned Homebirth, Waterbirth, and VBAC. As I rest my sweet baby on my chest, I gaze around my room. My eyes fall on a picture taken shortly after my husband and I were married. In my heart I feel a bittersweet peace. There we were, glowing and clutching each other in pride. Little did we know, the birth of our first son weighing an average 7.5 lbs. would result in an unexpected c-section. The reason we would be given was due to ‘failure to progress’.
Here I am 3 ½ years later, sitting comfortably on my bed after a beautiful and victorious VBAC. If someone had told me on that monumental day as I was recovering from my c-section, that I would go on to have a pregnancy and birth which would encourage and support other women, I would have been in utter shock. But it happened. Just two weeks ago today, from the rise of the moon to the rise of the sun I was in labor and gave birth. Standing at only 5’ 1 ½” tall, I gave birth in the comfort of my home to a very healthy boy weighing a grand 9.5 lbs….2 whole pounds bigger than my first. I ‘progressed’ just fine - to say the least! Our lives have been changed forever. This is my story.
Baby Robert’s Birth
In many ways I suffered a massive identity crisis during my first pregnancy. I had just started to gain confidence in myself as an adult. Ever since I was a little girl, I was terrified of doing or saying anything ‘wrong’ and sought to please everyone. At age 27 you may think that this process was coming late, and I agree! However, as soon as my pregnancy started progressing, I started regressing.
Pregnancy would put my self confidence to the test, and I wasn’t ready for that! I wanted to protect my baby, but was filled with doubt that I was truly capable of forming a healthy new life. So, I relied on technology and happily accepted ultrasounds whenever I had doubts and any other test I was comfortable with that would help prove I could do it.
My relationship with my husband, Rob, was much the same. I had moved to Albuquerque from Texas for a job in Landscape Architecture right out of college. I was anxious to start my life after school and met Rob at work. We were both from other states and naturally became friends. I tried hard to make my new life successful, but was unhappy.
On a crisp September evening the pregnancy test I decided to take ‘just to be safe’ came back glowing positive. Surely the test was wrong, so I took another. I remember being surrounded by positive results in my small apartment bathroom! Rob and I were mainly friends and had no plans of commitment. He was the best guy friend I ever had; however, the news was a shock and surprise for both of us. In fact, that very week I had decided to give up on my new life and head home with my tail tucked between my legs. Instead, the next day I showed up at work. I tried to let the day pass, but could only wait quietly until lunch to tell the father of my child. With my eyes filled with tears knowing the changes I was about to cause, I eventually told him the news.
I hesitate to write the bare beginnings of my story. I know there are some that will read this and feel our future was a result of poor planning and lack of caution. Even if I had already been married and had a planned pregnancy, I still couldn’t have been much more prepared for what was to come.
The first few weeks of the pregnancy were stressful. There were times I felt I’d lose my baby Robert due to it. I had never been more scared in my life. I knew in my heart that no matter what, I was committed to keeping my baby. I didn’t know if I would be a single mom, knew very little about pregnancy, and had no idea what to expect. I was going to have to call up the courage to find out.
I found moments of calm when I ate well and took care of myself. I began pouring into books and fell rapidly in love with everything pregnancy related. I was overcome by the miracle of it all. I felt if I made it past the famous 12 week mark then it was meant to be, especially since I had half of my thyroid removed a couple months before. I had no idea if it was stable enough to hold a pregnancy. Since many symptoms associated with recovering from the surgery where similar to pregnancy symptoms, I had missed all the signs my body was giving me that would have told me I was pregnant. I was even oblivious after I had a beautiful dream of becoming pregnant that I’m certain was given to me the very night Robert was created. With every cramp, discomfort, and trip to the bathroom I found myself expecting to see something awful that would tell me I lost my baby. It was on my mind 24 hours a day, which only goes to show how badly I wanted to keep the pregnancy.
Telling our families was also stressful since I never like to disappoint or worry anyone. As expected, both sides responded with mixed emotion. This was difficult for a newly pregnant mother. I didn’t exactly get to hear, ‘What great news! Congratulations!’ like most. Their reactions were understandable though.
I found what worried me most was that I could have harmed my baby before I knew about him. This would contribute to needing whatever reassurance I could get from technology. I also worried about the stability of my relationship. These worries never went away. I am a perfectionist when it comes to things that are important to me, and forming a new life without my knowledge was hard on my mind and heart. I was about six weeks pregnant when I got the news.
Once the pregnancy settled in, it was as exciting as it was scary. My life was going to change! I had no idea of our future, but I had a living soul inside me which I was thrilled about. I loved my little Robert with all my heart. In November, Rob surprised me with a proposal and I said ‘yes’. Of course, being the person I am, I believe it sounded more like ‘Are you sure we should do this?!’ We celebrated.
We had a small Christmas Eve wedding at a cozy bed and breakfast. It was one of the first times I felt baby Robert move within me. Outside the weather had been snowy but magically cleared for two days while our families were in town and on the road. It was a warm ceremony filled with love and hope. We didn’t know what the future would hold, but we were going to do everything we could to have a happy family.
There was no honeymoon or professional photography, but my dress was a gorgeous ivory colored satin and our cake held a porcelain bride and groom which had been passed down in Rob’s family for generations. More than anything, I love looking at our pictures knowing baby Robert was there with us on that special day. Just as the ceremony commenced, the sun set and the mountains were glowing pink. It felt like it was just for us.
Here I am 3 ½ years later, sitting comfortably on my bed after a beautiful and victorious VBAC. If someone had told me on that monumental day as I was recovering from my c-section, that I would go on to have a pregnancy and birth which would encourage and support other women, I would have been in utter shock. But it happened. Just two weeks ago today, from the rise of the moon to the rise of the sun I was in labor and gave birth. Standing at only 5’ 1 ½” tall, I gave birth in the comfort of my home to a very healthy boy weighing a grand 9.5 lbs….2 whole pounds bigger than my first. I ‘progressed’ just fine - to say the least! Our lives have been changed forever. This is my story.
Baby Robert’s Birth
In many ways I suffered a massive identity crisis during my first pregnancy. I had just started to gain confidence in myself as an adult. Ever since I was a little girl, I was terrified of doing or saying anything ‘wrong’ and sought to please everyone. At age 27 you may think that this process was coming late, and I agree! However, as soon as my pregnancy started progressing, I started regressing.
Pregnancy would put my self confidence to the test, and I wasn’t ready for that! I wanted to protect my baby, but was filled with doubt that I was truly capable of forming a healthy new life. So, I relied on technology and happily accepted ultrasounds whenever I had doubts and any other test I was comfortable with that would help prove I could do it.
My relationship with my husband, Rob, was much the same. I had moved to Albuquerque from Texas for a job in Landscape Architecture right out of college. I was anxious to start my life after school and met Rob at work. We were both from other states and naturally became friends. I tried hard to make my new life successful, but was unhappy.
On a crisp September evening the pregnancy test I decided to take ‘just to be safe’ came back glowing positive. Surely the test was wrong, so I took another. I remember being surrounded by positive results in my small apartment bathroom! Rob and I were mainly friends and had no plans of commitment. He was the best guy friend I ever had; however, the news was a shock and surprise for both of us. In fact, that very week I had decided to give up on my new life and head home with my tail tucked between my legs. Instead, the next day I showed up at work. I tried to let the day pass, but could only wait quietly until lunch to tell the father of my child. With my eyes filled with tears knowing the changes I was about to cause, I eventually told him the news.
I hesitate to write the bare beginnings of my story. I know there are some that will read this and feel our future was a result of poor planning and lack of caution. Even if I had already been married and had a planned pregnancy, I still couldn’t have been much more prepared for what was to come.
The first few weeks of the pregnancy were stressful. There were times I felt I’d lose my baby Robert due to it. I had never been more scared in my life. I knew in my heart that no matter what, I was committed to keeping my baby. I didn’t know if I would be a single mom, knew very little about pregnancy, and had no idea what to expect. I was going to have to call up the courage to find out.
I found moments of calm when I ate well and took care of myself. I began pouring into books and fell rapidly in love with everything pregnancy related. I was overcome by the miracle of it all. I felt if I made it past the famous 12 week mark then it was meant to be, especially since I had half of my thyroid removed a couple months before. I had no idea if it was stable enough to hold a pregnancy. Since many symptoms associated with recovering from the surgery where similar to pregnancy symptoms, I had missed all the signs my body was giving me that would have told me I was pregnant. I was even oblivious after I had a beautiful dream of becoming pregnant that I’m certain was given to me the very night Robert was created. With every cramp, discomfort, and trip to the bathroom I found myself expecting to see something awful that would tell me I lost my baby. It was on my mind 24 hours a day, which only goes to show how badly I wanted to keep the pregnancy.
Telling our families was also stressful since I never like to disappoint or worry anyone. As expected, both sides responded with mixed emotion. This was difficult for a newly pregnant mother. I didn’t exactly get to hear, ‘What great news! Congratulations!’ like most. Their reactions were understandable though.
I found what worried me most was that I could have harmed my baby before I knew about him. This would contribute to needing whatever reassurance I could get from technology. I also worried about the stability of my relationship. These worries never went away. I am a perfectionist when it comes to things that are important to me, and forming a new life without my knowledge was hard on my mind and heart. I was about six weeks pregnant when I got the news.
Once the pregnancy settled in, it was as exciting as it was scary. My life was going to change! I had no idea of our future, but I had a living soul inside me which I was thrilled about. I loved my little Robert with all my heart. In November, Rob surprised me with a proposal and I said ‘yes’. Of course, being the person I am, I believe it sounded more like ‘Are you sure we should do this?!’ We celebrated.
We had a small Christmas Eve wedding at a cozy bed and breakfast. It was one of the first times I felt baby Robert move within me. Outside the weather had been snowy but magically cleared for two days while our families were in town and on the road. It was a warm ceremony filled with love and hope. We didn’t know what the future would hold, but we were going to do everything we could to have a happy family.
There was no honeymoon or professional photography, but my dress was a gorgeous ivory colored satin and our cake held a porcelain bride and groom which had been passed down in Rob’s family for generations. More than anything, I love looking at our pictures knowing baby Robert was there with us on that special day. Just as the ceremony commenced, the sun set and the mountains were glowing pink. It felt like it was just for us.
***
As the pregnancy progressed, I was vibrant, tender, and beautiful - like all pregnant mothers. Rob was wonderful, catering to my every need. However, I fell into common misconceptions; like expecting discomforts and discussing things about the pregnancy I now feel are private. There were times when I also felt weak and handicapped. Again, I thought you were supposed feel that way. It’s all I ever gathered from others, with the exception of my mother who thankfully radiated joy whenever she spoke of enjoying pregnancy. I heard things like pregnancy was debilitating and babies were great but drained you of all energy and life. I was told things like, “Better enjoy it now, because your body will never be the same!” And, “Just wait until you have kids- you won’t be able to wear cute clothes like that anymore because your hips will spread too much”. As for birth, it doesn’t matter what you hope for because you’ll have no control. It’s nothing short of the most dreadful and painful nightmare imaginable filled with life threatening drama.
I also had a history of sexual abuse that would wreak havoc on me, my relationship, and birth. It was hard to realize what was going on at the time though. I had no idea it would impact me the way it did. When I first became pregnant I felt alive and proud of my body, but as I moved into the second trimester those feelings slipped away. My sexuality was now on display ~ much to my horror. I used to struggle with my physical appearance around certain people, but now it was everyone! The bigger and more obvious I became, the worse it was. I couldn’t hide my growing breasts or belly if I needed to anymore. The fact that everyone knew what I had done to get pregnant was embarrassing. Instead of embracing the beautiful changes that were happening, I often wished for a place that no one could see me. I was proud of myself when I was alone, but even hid my body from my own husband. It was a very exposed and an uncomfortable time for me. Little did I know, having a c-section would triple these feelings for years after, and breastfeeding would magnify them on a daily basis. However, I was committed and happily nursed my son for almost 3 years.
All in all, it was a beautiful pregnancy and something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It was an experience that belonged to me, my husband, and beautiful Robert. My birth on the other hand, once it reached a certain point, did not.
As we approached the end of my pregnancy, my thoughts turned towards birth. I hoped for a natural birth because I knew it was best for me and my baby. However, I didn’t believe I could do it. I was scared of natural birth because of things I had heard or seen and thought others would think I was some ‘hippie’. In our birthing classes, I nearly had anxiety attacks when it was my turn to introduce myself or say what I thought. A memory that stands out most was when a mom said she wasn’t afraid of anything because she trusted her body. I remember thinking she was out of her mind and must not be aware of all that can go wrong!
One night on the phone with my mother I voiced my hopes for birth. Her words deeply impacted me when I mentioned I wanted to ‘try’ for natural. Her response, much like everyone else I knew, was ‘Why would you want to do that?!’ I didn’t have the confidence or experience in natural birth to debate. In her experience, her first birth was traumatic because pain medication ran out near the end and her second (me) was a glorious epidural. Since I needed my parent’s approval during this time to feel accepted and smart, I was crushed. It was her words that rang in my head when I finally accepted an epidural during my birth. I remember feeling relieved that I too got one. I would not be viewed strangely. Instead, I joined the most accepted group in our society which felt natural birth just wasn’t worth it.
Her response was similar earlier in my pregnancy when I chose a nurse-midwife (through the hospital) for my care. My mother was upset and worried. She didn’t understand why I would choose a midwife when I could have the ‘gold standard’ of care with an obstetrician. To her, midwives are unqualified to care appropriately for pregnant mothers. It was hard for her to accept that in Albuquerque most mothers are cared for by midwives unless they are classified as high-risk…and it’s not a reflection of a poor standard of living. In her defense, she had never been in an environment of highly skilled midwives. But, her reaction made me feel ignorant for my choice. Thankfully, I had a wonderful nurse-midwife or I just would have ended up with a c-section sooner.
After a long pregnancy working at a full time desk job, the day finally arrived and I began labor on a beautiful May morning. I was 3 days past my original due date when I awoke with gentle contractions. They continued throughout the day. Deep in my mind I felt I was in labor, but it’s hard to acknowledge after nine long months of anticipation. We had dinner that night with my husband’s family. I was asked what my birth plans were. I quietly said I’d like to ‘go natural as long as possible,’ and was again met with confused faces.
My contractions picked up later that night, so I tried to relax and sleep but couldn’t. I chose to stay up while Rob rested. There were a couple of times when I thought I should be headed to the hospital. I tried calling my doula, Jessica, but strangely couldn’t get a hold of her. I woke my husband around 6am when I couldn’t take being alone anymore. Again I tried to sleep, but lying in one place made things too intense.
I was exhausted by mid morning, and contractions slowed so I could relax. I took the opportunity to inform my family that I may be in labor, since they planned to make the long drive to see us. I didn’t want to give them a false alarm; they had work obligations and my grandma was scheduled for surgery that week. I stressed I wasn’t sure if I was in labor and asked them to wait a few hours for me to call back. I figured it would give them time to get ready. However, my grandma said they were already well on the way when I called back! Full of late pregnancy hormones I broke down in tears and got so upset my contractions stopped. When I spoke with them, I gently said I wished they would go back home until I was sure it was labor. The conversation heated and they didn’t understand why I was uncomfortable with them being there yet. The truth was I needed privacy in its purest form. This is especially since it was clear they weren’t truly understanding of my desire for natural birth and I didn’t have much confidence as it was. Their presence would have only caused more doubt. I was actually embarrassed for them to be anywhere around my attempts at natural birth complete with a doula. I really needed to focus on myself for once instead of worrying about what anyone was thinking while they were anxiously waiting nearby.
After we hung up, I felt awful. As gentle as I tried to be, I knew I’d hurt them. They didn’t give me much choice to do otherwise. Although this aggravated me, I understood that it was their only daughter’s first birth and life was happening too quickly. They hadn’t even had a chance to adjust to me being married. I knew how much they wanted to be here for us, and I wanted them there too! I just wasn’t ready yet and their actions caused me to feel disrespected. I would have been perfectly fine had they waited.
Afterwards, they wouldn’t answer my update calls throughout the rest of labor and birth. I had been misunderstood. The situation caused upset feelings, worry, and anxiety at the worst possible time for me.
I was now on a time clock since they were still on there way, whether I was ready or not. When I felt comfortable again, labor picked back up. Jessica suggested I take a walk to see if the contractions became stronger. They did. As we walked along the streets in our neighborhood on that beautiful May afternoon, I had never seen colors more clear in the flowers, sky, and trees. The sun seemed to warm my entire body and envelope the world in a soft happy glow. My birth was unfolding after nine long months, although it took Rob saying ‘Peggy, I think you’re in labor’ for me to admit it out loud. I cherished that walk; its one of my favorite memories. We walked hand in hand, stopping every so often to breathe and relax. I didn’t think of anything but my baby and husband.
Later that evening when the contractions got strong enough for me to wonder what I had gotten myself into, I started pacing. I was secretly panicking. It did ‘hurt’….I thought the Hypnobirthing training I received from Jessica would take it away! I began to get frightened and tense, which made them worse. I started seeing ‘show’, so I was dilating and making progress. If I could go back to that moment knowing what I do now, those contractions would have been a piece of cake had I voiced my feelings and relaxed. I was silently freaking out and flooding myself with adrenaline. I was in and out of the bathroom with feelings of pressure and nausea. I was tired and felt miserable.
When Jessica arrived at our house, I calmed some. However, I was losing control and afraid to be seen. When a contraction began, I would walk away from her and Rob in an attempt to figure out what to do. I soon got used to her being there and warmed to her support. I didn’t want to go to the hospital too soon so I asked if she could check to see how dilated I was. It’s against a doula’s professional guidelines, but she was also in training to be a midwife. Had I truly understood her knowledge and ability, I would have allowed her to help me much more. A pregnancy just isn’t long enough to know your birth support well enough sometimes. She determined I was 5 cm open. I wanted to jump for joy! My body filled with pride and relief as I thought “Hooray! Maybe I can have a natural birth, I CAN do this!” In my excitement, I was ready to head to the hospital. However, I made the huge mistake of not giving myself enough time to connect with my husband and get my head wrapped around labor. It was around 9pm.
When we walked onto our front porch with bags packed and ready, I had never seen a night more beautiful. The moon was glowing heavy surrounded by stars and the cool air was filled with excitement of the unknown. I felt nature begging for me to listen, but I only noticed for a moment. I was too excited to go to the place where babies are born, or where I thought they were. It was in that small space though, that I felt empowered and completely connected to everything around me in a way I had never felt before. I wondered how many babies and mother’s were also in labor around the world. I felt that I was finally joining every other mother. It gave me an immense peace, strength, and confidence. However, I broke the connection quickly and walked to the car and strapped on my seat belt. The shuffle to the hospital was ridiculous. Being in labor sitting still in a moving car is not my idea of fun! The drive felt like it took forever, even though it was only about 15 minutes.
I also had a history of sexual abuse that would wreak havoc on me, my relationship, and birth. It was hard to realize what was going on at the time though. I had no idea it would impact me the way it did. When I first became pregnant I felt alive and proud of my body, but as I moved into the second trimester those feelings slipped away. My sexuality was now on display ~ much to my horror. I used to struggle with my physical appearance around certain people, but now it was everyone! The bigger and more obvious I became, the worse it was. I couldn’t hide my growing breasts or belly if I needed to anymore. The fact that everyone knew what I had done to get pregnant was embarrassing. Instead of embracing the beautiful changes that were happening, I often wished for a place that no one could see me. I was proud of myself when I was alone, but even hid my body from my own husband. It was a very exposed and an uncomfortable time for me. Little did I know, having a c-section would triple these feelings for years after, and breastfeeding would magnify them on a daily basis. However, I was committed and happily nursed my son for almost 3 years.
All in all, it was a beautiful pregnancy and something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It was an experience that belonged to me, my husband, and beautiful Robert. My birth on the other hand, once it reached a certain point, did not.
As we approached the end of my pregnancy, my thoughts turned towards birth. I hoped for a natural birth because I knew it was best for me and my baby. However, I didn’t believe I could do it. I was scared of natural birth because of things I had heard or seen and thought others would think I was some ‘hippie’. In our birthing classes, I nearly had anxiety attacks when it was my turn to introduce myself or say what I thought. A memory that stands out most was when a mom said she wasn’t afraid of anything because she trusted her body. I remember thinking she was out of her mind and must not be aware of all that can go wrong!
One night on the phone with my mother I voiced my hopes for birth. Her words deeply impacted me when I mentioned I wanted to ‘try’ for natural. Her response, much like everyone else I knew, was ‘Why would you want to do that?!’ I didn’t have the confidence or experience in natural birth to debate. In her experience, her first birth was traumatic because pain medication ran out near the end and her second (me) was a glorious epidural. Since I needed my parent’s approval during this time to feel accepted and smart, I was crushed. It was her words that rang in my head when I finally accepted an epidural during my birth. I remember feeling relieved that I too got one. I would not be viewed strangely. Instead, I joined the most accepted group in our society which felt natural birth just wasn’t worth it.
Her response was similar earlier in my pregnancy when I chose a nurse-midwife (through the hospital) for my care. My mother was upset and worried. She didn’t understand why I would choose a midwife when I could have the ‘gold standard’ of care with an obstetrician. To her, midwives are unqualified to care appropriately for pregnant mothers. It was hard for her to accept that in Albuquerque most mothers are cared for by midwives unless they are classified as high-risk…and it’s not a reflection of a poor standard of living. In her defense, she had never been in an environment of highly skilled midwives. But, her reaction made me feel ignorant for my choice. Thankfully, I had a wonderful nurse-midwife or I just would have ended up with a c-section sooner.
After a long pregnancy working at a full time desk job, the day finally arrived and I began labor on a beautiful May morning. I was 3 days past my original due date when I awoke with gentle contractions. They continued throughout the day. Deep in my mind I felt I was in labor, but it’s hard to acknowledge after nine long months of anticipation. We had dinner that night with my husband’s family. I was asked what my birth plans were. I quietly said I’d like to ‘go natural as long as possible,’ and was again met with confused faces.
My contractions picked up later that night, so I tried to relax and sleep but couldn’t. I chose to stay up while Rob rested. There were a couple of times when I thought I should be headed to the hospital. I tried calling my doula, Jessica, but strangely couldn’t get a hold of her. I woke my husband around 6am when I couldn’t take being alone anymore. Again I tried to sleep, but lying in one place made things too intense.
I was exhausted by mid morning, and contractions slowed so I could relax. I took the opportunity to inform my family that I may be in labor, since they planned to make the long drive to see us. I didn’t want to give them a false alarm; they had work obligations and my grandma was scheduled for surgery that week. I stressed I wasn’t sure if I was in labor and asked them to wait a few hours for me to call back. I figured it would give them time to get ready. However, my grandma said they were already well on the way when I called back! Full of late pregnancy hormones I broke down in tears and got so upset my contractions stopped. When I spoke with them, I gently said I wished they would go back home until I was sure it was labor. The conversation heated and they didn’t understand why I was uncomfortable with them being there yet. The truth was I needed privacy in its purest form. This is especially since it was clear they weren’t truly understanding of my desire for natural birth and I didn’t have much confidence as it was. Their presence would have only caused more doubt. I was actually embarrassed for them to be anywhere around my attempts at natural birth complete with a doula. I really needed to focus on myself for once instead of worrying about what anyone was thinking while they were anxiously waiting nearby.
After we hung up, I felt awful. As gentle as I tried to be, I knew I’d hurt them. They didn’t give me much choice to do otherwise. Although this aggravated me, I understood that it was their only daughter’s first birth and life was happening too quickly. They hadn’t even had a chance to adjust to me being married. I knew how much they wanted to be here for us, and I wanted them there too! I just wasn’t ready yet and their actions caused me to feel disrespected. I would have been perfectly fine had they waited.
Afterwards, they wouldn’t answer my update calls throughout the rest of labor and birth. I had been misunderstood. The situation caused upset feelings, worry, and anxiety at the worst possible time for me.
I was now on a time clock since they were still on there way, whether I was ready or not. When I felt comfortable again, labor picked back up. Jessica suggested I take a walk to see if the contractions became stronger. They did. As we walked along the streets in our neighborhood on that beautiful May afternoon, I had never seen colors more clear in the flowers, sky, and trees. The sun seemed to warm my entire body and envelope the world in a soft happy glow. My birth was unfolding after nine long months, although it took Rob saying ‘Peggy, I think you’re in labor’ for me to admit it out loud. I cherished that walk; its one of my favorite memories. We walked hand in hand, stopping every so often to breathe and relax. I didn’t think of anything but my baby and husband.
Later that evening when the contractions got strong enough for me to wonder what I had gotten myself into, I started pacing. I was secretly panicking. It did ‘hurt’….I thought the Hypnobirthing training I received from Jessica would take it away! I began to get frightened and tense, which made them worse. I started seeing ‘show’, so I was dilating and making progress. If I could go back to that moment knowing what I do now, those contractions would have been a piece of cake had I voiced my feelings and relaxed. I was silently freaking out and flooding myself with adrenaline. I was in and out of the bathroom with feelings of pressure and nausea. I was tired and felt miserable.
When Jessica arrived at our house, I calmed some. However, I was losing control and afraid to be seen. When a contraction began, I would walk away from her and Rob in an attempt to figure out what to do. I soon got used to her being there and warmed to her support. I didn’t want to go to the hospital too soon so I asked if she could check to see how dilated I was. It’s against a doula’s professional guidelines, but she was also in training to be a midwife. Had I truly understood her knowledge and ability, I would have allowed her to help me much more. A pregnancy just isn’t long enough to know your birth support well enough sometimes. She determined I was 5 cm open. I wanted to jump for joy! My body filled with pride and relief as I thought “Hooray! Maybe I can have a natural birth, I CAN do this!” In my excitement, I was ready to head to the hospital. However, I made the huge mistake of not giving myself enough time to connect with my husband and get my head wrapped around labor. It was around 9pm.
When we walked onto our front porch with bags packed and ready, I had never seen a night more beautiful. The moon was glowing heavy surrounded by stars and the cool air was filled with excitement of the unknown. I felt nature begging for me to listen, but I only noticed for a moment. I was too excited to go to the place where babies are born, or where I thought they were. It was in that small space though, that I felt empowered and completely connected to everything around me in a way I had never felt before. I wondered how many babies and mother’s were also in labor around the world. I felt that I was finally joining every other mother. It gave me an immense peace, strength, and confidence. However, I broke the connection quickly and walked to the car and strapped on my seat belt. The shuffle to the hospital was ridiculous. Being in labor sitting still in a moving car is not my idea of fun! The drive felt like it took forever, even though it was only about 15 minutes.
***
Once we got checked in, I got checked out. Even as I was filling out the paperwork, I could feel my sense of security fading. I was nervous and uncomfortable in front of these people I didn’t know. If I had trouble exposing my body and feelings to my husband and doula, how was I supposed to do it in front of complete strangers? Especially those that may not understand how sexual issues affected birth and how gently a mother needs to be treated in those cases. When I got checked it was painful and cold as usual. The midwife on duty said I was barely 4cm. My heart sank into my feet. After all the hard work I had done and hardly anything to show for it! I felt like giving up. Luckily she said ‘Well, we’re keeping you, you’re going to have a baby today’. My heart soared; I smiled big, and felt wonderful again. I couldn’t believe I was hearing those words!
We dimmed the lights and tried to create a calm room to labor in. It was hard getting used to being surrounded with machines in a foreign space. Every time the door opened and someone entered I didn’t know, my focus was lost and privacy threatened. I didn’t want to be seen and didn’t want to feel on display in any way. Being in a hospital where I knew surgery and dramatic things happened also fueled my fears and doubts. Progress was hard to come by.
What soon followed was a series of interventions. The first being external monitoring. The belts were uncomfortable and the added pressure made my contractions stronger. I was tied to bed and feeling trapped. Jessica suggested we take a picture. I didn’t want one, but I remember her saying ‘Its good to have pictures’. She was right; I adored that picture. It spoke a thousand words though. My body was rigid as I was lying in bed with my arms at my sides trying hard to smile. Then there was my dear husband, sitting beside me barely able to reach my arm. We looked out of place and distant.
Baby Robert decided he didn’t like the belts and wanted them off. He began kicking at them with increasing determination. I was smiling at his strength until the nurse came in and told us they had never seen a baby react to the belts like he was. They told me something may be wrong. I had 1 hour to move about freely before they hooked us back up again. During that time we roamed the hospital inside and out. Sweet Jessica told me to face Rob and place my head on his chest during contractions. It was the first time we truly connected. We tried many things, and lastly, the bath. I thought the water would help, but I felt exposed again and the tub couldn’t hold enough water for true comfort. It was there I became overwhelmed by labor and scared of how much more intense it would be. I turned to Rob and said ‘this is a nightmare,’ and knew I would need help.
They still had trouble getting his heart rate when we returned. They didn’t consider his position (or mine) - which I now know was posterior because I could see his feet poking out of my tummy kicking the belts. They didn’t consider he was very healthy, opinionated, and strong. They didn’t consider sitting beside me with a hand held Doppler. No, they told me if they couldn’t get an acceptable heart rate, their policy was internal monitoring - period. They reiterated they had never seen a baby react to the belts that way and something may be wrong. I filled with fear and agreed. I couldn’t bare the thought of my baby being in trouble. Their behavior even shook Jessica up. They would need to break my water to place the monitor underneath Robert’s skin on his head. I remembered my mother telling me they ‘had to’ break her water for me to be born. I figured that was a good thing, nothing to worry about. What’s the bag of waters really for anyways? Everyone has their water broken in labor.
When the fluids came out they said there ‘may’ be meconium and Robert could be stressed. I was worried sick by that point. Frankly, if there isn’t enough meconium in the fluid to be certain its even there, please don’t concern a poor worried mother! Even if there had been a ‘slight staining’, I was in labor and contractions cause pressure. It happens, and it doesn’t mean its stress related. Now I wonder if they felt like they needed to redeem themselves for breaking my water.
The procedure was odd and uncomfortable. I didn’t know I had agreed to have Robert’s wonderful, warm pillow of protective fluid taken away. I didn’t know that I had just sentenced him to dropping down hard on my cervix in whatever position he was in at that moment. When the monitor was in place, it was clear there was no problem. Robert’s heart rate was beautiful. Except now we were both trapped! I was locked in bed afraid to move knowing cords were attached to my sweet baby’s head and I may hurt him. I’m unsure how much longer I fought to handle the contractions without being able to move. It seemed like a long time. I eventually asked for an epidural.
I was having gorgeous, strong contractions as they put the epidural in. I felt the cold rush into my back and then most sensation was gone. I tried to control how much medication I put into my body, but pressed the patient control button several times. I was so worn out after almost 48 hours of contractions and drama that I couldn’t handle much else. The red ‘escape’ button in my hand was too hard to resist. I slept hard and was relieved.
Early that morning, the door to our dark room cracked open and I saw a face I needed to see hours before. My midwife. I loved my midwife and didn’t realize how much I needed one on one care from her until that moment. It wasn’t her fault, that sort of thing happens when you work for a team of midwives in a hospital. Completely understandable. So, once again I felt the world was right and I could do it. I began getting very excited when she checked me and I was about 9.5cm. She said it wouldn’t be much longer. I remember calling my parents and leaving that message. I happily woke my husband to see our last sunrise before we became a new family.
Shortly after that special moment of joy, the epidural wore off on one side of my body. It had been in for a very long time (mainly laying on my side or back), and baby Robert was surely in an odd position at that point because of it. Both of these issues would affect the epidural. There was absolutely nothing left of me physically or emotionally to deal with what was happening. I was thrown into ‘transition' with pitocin cranked and roaring in my body. Since the epidural severed the connections to my beautiful birth hormones and pain-blocking endorphins long ago, there was nothing I could do. My body was being fervently told by drugs that it was still in labor. I thought something was horribly wrong and began to shake and cry with the pain. I still remember the eerie sound of my voice as I desperately said ‘I need help’.
Up until that point we didn’t see many people, mostly machines. All of the sudden the room was swarming with staff members. A c-section was ordered. It was a non-emergency, but the energy in the room felt like it was. Fortunately, the nurse thought after what seemed like forever to turn off the pitocin. I couldn’t ask for anything or respond. A nice lady OB came in and told me something I can’t remember. They held papers in my face to sign. The papers could have told me they were going to take my son away and I would have had no idea what I was signing. It was the hardest signature I have ever tried to write.
I was wheeled down the hall by a pompous and arrogant anesthesiologist. He was cold and impersonal as he prepped me for surgery. This made it feel purely routine. I had never been more uncomfortable in my entire life. I felt like I had a semi truck parked on my body. I felt helpless, caged, and ghostly. It was an out of body experience to me. People were invading my body and I didn’t have any control. My only choice was to leave myself and disconnect completely to keep my sanity. I was nauseous, shaking uncontrollably, and jerked as I was moved to the surgical table because I felt like I was falling. Everyone fussed at me for reacting like that, as if I could help it. Once they had me strapped down and sedated they let my husband in. He and my midwife must have known I was struggling because they narrated everything that was going on and kept reassuring me Robert was almost out. I was fighting with all the energy I had left in my body to breathe and keep control. I couldn’t look at anyone; I just stared straight ahead at the ceiling amidst bright lights and coldness.
I felt tugging and pressure as he was pulled out and his precious umbilical cord, still pulsating, was immediately clamped and cut. It wasn’t long before I heard Robert’s first small cry. It started out as a lonesome, slow wail that built in intensity. To this very day, he has the same cry when something really hurts him.
Robert was born strong and gorgeous Sunday, May 27th, 2007 at 12:11 pm. He was 7 lbs and 8 oz, 20 inches long. I had been in labor since that Friday morning.
Was this really my son? Did a baby really come out of me? I didn’t see it and barely felt it. I was able to smile some when he was out safely. I saw someone carrying him across the room as he was crying and waving his body around, but it was very blurry. They held him up briefly for me to see but kept going. He was carried to a bassinet and that was the last I heard or saw of him for at least 2 hours. In other words, complete strangers were the first to hold my precious baby before we were even close to touching him.
I lay helpless on the table without my baby that I had worked so hard for as parts of my body were taken out, put back in, and I was sewn up. It seemed to take an eternity and I had NEVER felt more alone in my life. People like to say no one can prepare you for the intensity of natural birth, but I say no one could prepare me for that birth and those feelings! In recovery, I was in and out of sleep and shaking, always shaking. My teeth felt like they were cracked and would fall out of my mouth at any moment. Someone told me it was normal to shake like that with labor (yeah right, I had just had major abdominal surgery and my baby and placenta were gone).
Finally, I was wheeled to my room. My first vision of my son was in the nursery being held by his daddy. He had been taken there after the birth to be poked, prodded, and roughly scrubbed down in a bath. Later Rob told me it was something that I ‘wouldn’t have wanted to see’. It still greatly disturbs me that the person that did so had won awards for her knowledge and treatment of babies!! The only skin I could see on him was his face; he was bundled up like an Eskimo. Rob brought him to our room and I had no idea what to do. I was nervous and just stared at him. Everyone had already touched him except for me.
The days in the hospital that followed barely remain in my memory. I was so loaded on pain pills and remnants from the interventions during labor and surgery it’s hard to remember much. I do remember the first meal they brought me though. It was various liquids and tasted like gourmet food. My diet had consisted of only liquids and I had been in labor for over 24 hours- I was starving! I was also told to do embarrassing things, like roll from side to side and try to pass gas or I could basically explode since I had abdominal surgery. For someone who’s shy, this was a death sentence.
My parents managed to get into Albuquerque shortly after the birth. The first words my mother spoke to me were filled with sarcasm, anxiousness, and worry. She said, ‘Why did they do a c-section?’ The emphasis was on the word ‘why’. I don’t remember getting a hug, but I remember those words. All I could manage to say was ‘He wasn’t coming out’. It was the last thing I was capable of thinking about after what we had just been through. I was in a state of shock. They stayed for a few hours and then drove all the way home.
By the time we got to our house, my mothering hormones had kicked into high gear but I had been through a traumatic experience. My baby had been taken out of my body by scalpel and scissors and taken away. Even though my husband never left Robert’s side, I didn’t personally know what they did to him while I wasn’t there. I had been robbed of the immediate and intimate after birth connection I was supposed to have with him. So, I turned into a mother bear. I retreated into my cave (bedroom) and hid myself and new baby away from any more potential harm. Everything became a threat. I wasn’t coming out until it was safe. As much as I tried to control it, I was a worried, protective, nervous wreck over my son. I couldn’t even bare the sight of someone else holding him other than my husband. He may cry. He may get hurt. I need to save him. Baby Robert needed me in the same way I needed him too. He also didn’t want anyone else to hold him. He cried as if I had been taken away any time he wasn’t in the safety of my arms or at my breast. It was his way of keeping us together. Oddly enough, even with sexual abuse issues that haunted me every time I nursed, it became a mutual method of healing. I was determined for breastfeeding to work out, despite hardships. Not realizing it at the time, I felt I failed my baby during birth and the last thing I wanted to do was fail at breastfeeding. I knew too well the benefits. My mother had also breastfed me amidst controversy from everyone she knew and I had always been very proud of that. It’s amazing how much our mothers affect our motherhood.
Two weeks after the birth I got an infection in the incision site, followed by a nasty case of mastitis and thrush. All this would be compounded by episodes of shock, trust and anxiety issues, horrid nightmares of my son dying tragically while I watched helplessly, and depression. My relationship with my husband suffered as well. I had no desire for intimacy for years. I felt embarrassed during the pregnancy and now I had a large scar across my belly to deal with. When we tried to be intimate, I found myself in tears saying my body ‘didn’t work right anymore’. I was scared our marriage would fail and it would be my fault. He did nothing to cause what we went through, but it seemed like my body was afraid and holding a grudge against him for getting me pregnant. It is true that my body has never been the same; digestion is even difficult. After all, it’s impossible even for the best doctor to put a body back how it was perfectly arranged before it was touched.
It didn’t take long before I began to analyze what had happened and how it could be better. I worried about other mother’s going through similar experiences, and greatly worried about babies going through it. Baby Robert opened my eyes to a whole new world. I had no idea how innocent, smart, and aware babies were until he came along. I had many sleepless nights thinking about what babies must go through that didn’t get the same love, understanding, and care that I was determined to give him. I started pouring over books about babies. It would take a much longer to get comfortable doing the same with birth. I became good friends with my doula, Jessica. She would eventually be at my second birth- not as a doula- but best friend and secondary midwife.
The day I got the nerve to read what happened to me and Robert during the c-section was the day that truly changed my life. Rivers of tears followed and sometimes still do. I was determined to take my experience and help others. I didn’t know at the time that it would not only help others - but me too. With dedication, financial stress, tears, and plenty more sleepless nights- I changed my entire career from landscape architecture to childbirth education. I worked hard to earn certification. Jessica helped me get a job teaching at the very hospital where I had Robert. I found that I was a great teacher. Expectant parents loved my classes because I was warm, friendly, open, and gave them tons of reasons to have confidence in themselves. I put all my energy into providing as much evidence based knowledge and support for them as I could. However, I never felt qualified because I hadn’t experienced a vaginal birth…let alone a natural birth, which I’m sure parents felt I had. In their eyes, I couldn’t have had the level of confidence in birth that I did if I hadn’t experienced it myself. They had no idea the hardships I had faced which gave me that confidence.
We dimmed the lights and tried to create a calm room to labor in. It was hard getting used to being surrounded with machines in a foreign space. Every time the door opened and someone entered I didn’t know, my focus was lost and privacy threatened. I didn’t want to be seen and didn’t want to feel on display in any way. Being in a hospital where I knew surgery and dramatic things happened also fueled my fears and doubts. Progress was hard to come by.
What soon followed was a series of interventions. The first being external monitoring. The belts were uncomfortable and the added pressure made my contractions stronger. I was tied to bed and feeling trapped. Jessica suggested we take a picture. I didn’t want one, but I remember her saying ‘Its good to have pictures’. She was right; I adored that picture. It spoke a thousand words though. My body was rigid as I was lying in bed with my arms at my sides trying hard to smile. Then there was my dear husband, sitting beside me barely able to reach my arm. We looked out of place and distant.
Baby Robert decided he didn’t like the belts and wanted them off. He began kicking at them with increasing determination. I was smiling at his strength until the nurse came in and told us they had never seen a baby react to the belts like he was. They told me something may be wrong. I had 1 hour to move about freely before they hooked us back up again. During that time we roamed the hospital inside and out. Sweet Jessica told me to face Rob and place my head on his chest during contractions. It was the first time we truly connected. We tried many things, and lastly, the bath. I thought the water would help, but I felt exposed again and the tub couldn’t hold enough water for true comfort. It was there I became overwhelmed by labor and scared of how much more intense it would be. I turned to Rob and said ‘this is a nightmare,’ and knew I would need help.
They still had trouble getting his heart rate when we returned. They didn’t consider his position (or mine) - which I now know was posterior because I could see his feet poking out of my tummy kicking the belts. They didn’t consider he was very healthy, opinionated, and strong. They didn’t consider sitting beside me with a hand held Doppler. No, they told me if they couldn’t get an acceptable heart rate, their policy was internal monitoring - period. They reiterated they had never seen a baby react to the belts that way and something may be wrong. I filled with fear and agreed. I couldn’t bare the thought of my baby being in trouble. Their behavior even shook Jessica up. They would need to break my water to place the monitor underneath Robert’s skin on his head. I remembered my mother telling me they ‘had to’ break her water for me to be born. I figured that was a good thing, nothing to worry about. What’s the bag of waters really for anyways? Everyone has their water broken in labor.
When the fluids came out they said there ‘may’ be meconium and Robert could be stressed. I was worried sick by that point. Frankly, if there isn’t enough meconium in the fluid to be certain its even there, please don’t concern a poor worried mother! Even if there had been a ‘slight staining’, I was in labor and contractions cause pressure. It happens, and it doesn’t mean its stress related. Now I wonder if they felt like they needed to redeem themselves for breaking my water.
The procedure was odd and uncomfortable. I didn’t know I had agreed to have Robert’s wonderful, warm pillow of protective fluid taken away. I didn’t know that I had just sentenced him to dropping down hard on my cervix in whatever position he was in at that moment. When the monitor was in place, it was clear there was no problem. Robert’s heart rate was beautiful. Except now we were both trapped! I was locked in bed afraid to move knowing cords were attached to my sweet baby’s head and I may hurt him. I’m unsure how much longer I fought to handle the contractions without being able to move. It seemed like a long time. I eventually asked for an epidural.
I was having gorgeous, strong contractions as they put the epidural in. I felt the cold rush into my back and then most sensation was gone. I tried to control how much medication I put into my body, but pressed the patient control button several times. I was so worn out after almost 48 hours of contractions and drama that I couldn’t handle much else. The red ‘escape’ button in my hand was too hard to resist. I slept hard and was relieved.
Early that morning, the door to our dark room cracked open and I saw a face I needed to see hours before. My midwife. I loved my midwife and didn’t realize how much I needed one on one care from her until that moment. It wasn’t her fault, that sort of thing happens when you work for a team of midwives in a hospital. Completely understandable. So, once again I felt the world was right and I could do it. I began getting very excited when she checked me and I was about 9.5cm. She said it wouldn’t be much longer. I remember calling my parents and leaving that message. I happily woke my husband to see our last sunrise before we became a new family.
Shortly after that special moment of joy, the epidural wore off on one side of my body. It had been in for a very long time (mainly laying on my side or back), and baby Robert was surely in an odd position at that point because of it. Both of these issues would affect the epidural. There was absolutely nothing left of me physically or emotionally to deal with what was happening. I was thrown into ‘transition' with pitocin cranked and roaring in my body. Since the epidural severed the connections to my beautiful birth hormones and pain-blocking endorphins long ago, there was nothing I could do. My body was being fervently told by drugs that it was still in labor. I thought something was horribly wrong and began to shake and cry with the pain. I still remember the eerie sound of my voice as I desperately said ‘I need help’.
Up until that point we didn’t see many people, mostly machines. All of the sudden the room was swarming with staff members. A c-section was ordered. It was a non-emergency, but the energy in the room felt like it was. Fortunately, the nurse thought after what seemed like forever to turn off the pitocin. I couldn’t ask for anything or respond. A nice lady OB came in and told me something I can’t remember. They held papers in my face to sign. The papers could have told me they were going to take my son away and I would have had no idea what I was signing. It was the hardest signature I have ever tried to write.
I was wheeled down the hall by a pompous and arrogant anesthesiologist. He was cold and impersonal as he prepped me for surgery. This made it feel purely routine. I had never been more uncomfortable in my entire life. I felt like I had a semi truck parked on my body. I felt helpless, caged, and ghostly. It was an out of body experience to me. People were invading my body and I didn’t have any control. My only choice was to leave myself and disconnect completely to keep my sanity. I was nauseous, shaking uncontrollably, and jerked as I was moved to the surgical table because I felt like I was falling. Everyone fussed at me for reacting like that, as if I could help it. Once they had me strapped down and sedated they let my husband in. He and my midwife must have known I was struggling because they narrated everything that was going on and kept reassuring me Robert was almost out. I was fighting with all the energy I had left in my body to breathe and keep control. I couldn’t look at anyone; I just stared straight ahead at the ceiling amidst bright lights and coldness.
I felt tugging and pressure as he was pulled out and his precious umbilical cord, still pulsating, was immediately clamped and cut. It wasn’t long before I heard Robert’s first small cry. It started out as a lonesome, slow wail that built in intensity. To this very day, he has the same cry when something really hurts him.
Robert was born strong and gorgeous Sunday, May 27th, 2007 at 12:11 pm. He was 7 lbs and 8 oz, 20 inches long. I had been in labor since that Friday morning.
Was this really my son? Did a baby really come out of me? I didn’t see it and barely felt it. I was able to smile some when he was out safely. I saw someone carrying him across the room as he was crying and waving his body around, but it was very blurry. They held him up briefly for me to see but kept going. He was carried to a bassinet and that was the last I heard or saw of him for at least 2 hours. In other words, complete strangers were the first to hold my precious baby before we were even close to touching him.
I lay helpless on the table without my baby that I had worked so hard for as parts of my body were taken out, put back in, and I was sewn up. It seemed to take an eternity and I had NEVER felt more alone in my life. People like to say no one can prepare you for the intensity of natural birth, but I say no one could prepare me for that birth and those feelings! In recovery, I was in and out of sleep and shaking, always shaking. My teeth felt like they were cracked and would fall out of my mouth at any moment. Someone told me it was normal to shake like that with labor (yeah right, I had just had major abdominal surgery and my baby and placenta were gone).
Finally, I was wheeled to my room. My first vision of my son was in the nursery being held by his daddy. He had been taken there after the birth to be poked, prodded, and roughly scrubbed down in a bath. Later Rob told me it was something that I ‘wouldn’t have wanted to see’. It still greatly disturbs me that the person that did so had won awards for her knowledge and treatment of babies!! The only skin I could see on him was his face; he was bundled up like an Eskimo. Rob brought him to our room and I had no idea what to do. I was nervous and just stared at him. Everyone had already touched him except for me.
The days in the hospital that followed barely remain in my memory. I was so loaded on pain pills and remnants from the interventions during labor and surgery it’s hard to remember much. I do remember the first meal they brought me though. It was various liquids and tasted like gourmet food. My diet had consisted of only liquids and I had been in labor for over 24 hours- I was starving! I was also told to do embarrassing things, like roll from side to side and try to pass gas or I could basically explode since I had abdominal surgery. For someone who’s shy, this was a death sentence.
My parents managed to get into Albuquerque shortly after the birth. The first words my mother spoke to me were filled with sarcasm, anxiousness, and worry. She said, ‘Why did they do a c-section?’ The emphasis was on the word ‘why’. I don’t remember getting a hug, but I remember those words. All I could manage to say was ‘He wasn’t coming out’. It was the last thing I was capable of thinking about after what we had just been through. I was in a state of shock. They stayed for a few hours and then drove all the way home.
By the time we got to our house, my mothering hormones had kicked into high gear but I had been through a traumatic experience. My baby had been taken out of my body by scalpel and scissors and taken away. Even though my husband never left Robert’s side, I didn’t personally know what they did to him while I wasn’t there. I had been robbed of the immediate and intimate after birth connection I was supposed to have with him. So, I turned into a mother bear. I retreated into my cave (bedroom) and hid myself and new baby away from any more potential harm. Everything became a threat. I wasn’t coming out until it was safe. As much as I tried to control it, I was a worried, protective, nervous wreck over my son. I couldn’t even bare the sight of someone else holding him other than my husband. He may cry. He may get hurt. I need to save him. Baby Robert needed me in the same way I needed him too. He also didn’t want anyone else to hold him. He cried as if I had been taken away any time he wasn’t in the safety of my arms or at my breast. It was his way of keeping us together. Oddly enough, even with sexual abuse issues that haunted me every time I nursed, it became a mutual method of healing. I was determined for breastfeeding to work out, despite hardships. Not realizing it at the time, I felt I failed my baby during birth and the last thing I wanted to do was fail at breastfeeding. I knew too well the benefits. My mother had also breastfed me amidst controversy from everyone she knew and I had always been very proud of that. It’s amazing how much our mothers affect our motherhood.
Two weeks after the birth I got an infection in the incision site, followed by a nasty case of mastitis and thrush. All this would be compounded by episodes of shock, trust and anxiety issues, horrid nightmares of my son dying tragically while I watched helplessly, and depression. My relationship with my husband suffered as well. I had no desire for intimacy for years. I felt embarrassed during the pregnancy and now I had a large scar across my belly to deal with. When we tried to be intimate, I found myself in tears saying my body ‘didn’t work right anymore’. I was scared our marriage would fail and it would be my fault. He did nothing to cause what we went through, but it seemed like my body was afraid and holding a grudge against him for getting me pregnant. It is true that my body has never been the same; digestion is even difficult. After all, it’s impossible even for the best doctor to put a body back how it was perfectly arranged before it was touched.
It didn’t take long before I began to analyze what had happened and how it could be better. I worried about other mother’s going through similar experiences, and greatly worried about babies going through it. Baby Robert opened my eyes to a whole new world. I had no idea how innocent, smart, and aware babies were until he came along. I had many sleepless nights thinking about what babies must go through that didn’t get the same love, understanding, and care that I was determined to give him. I started pouring over books about babies. It would take a much longer to get comfortable doing the same with birth. I became good friends with my doula, Jessica. She would eventually be at my second birth- not as a doula- but best friend and secondary midwife.
The day I got the nerve to read what happened to me and Robert during the c-section was the day that truly changed my life. Rivers of tears followed and sometimes still do. I was determined to take my experience and help others. I didn’t know at the time that it would not only help others - but me too. With dedication, financial stress, tears, and plenty more sleepless nights- I changed my entire career from landscape architecture to childbirth education. I worked hard to earn certification. Jessica helped me get a job teaching at the very hospital where I had Robert. I found that I was a great teacher. Expectant parents loved my classes because I was warm, friendly, open, and gave them tons of reasons to have confidence in themselves. I put all my energy into providing as much evidence based knowledge and support for them as I could. However, I never felt qualified because I hadn’t experienced a vaginal birth…let alone a natural birth, which I’m sure parents felt I had. In their eyes, I couldn’t have had the level of confidence in birth that I did if I hadn’t experienced it myself. They had no idea the hardships I had faced which gave me that confidence.
***
Here Comes the Sun: Baby Nate’s Birth
It was more than 2 years before I even had a glimmer in my mind of getting pregnant again. I wanted to give myself the best chance possible to have a VBAC. I also wanted to make sure that Robert would handle a sibling okay. My body needed to heal and my heart needed to heal. Most of all, my spirit needed to heal.
I found out I was pregnant on a beautiful December morning shortly after word that my husband’s beloved Grandfather passed away. He was the wonderful man my Robert was named after. News of the pregnancy was a gift to both of our families, and we told everyone right away this time. I took the timing of the pregnancy as a special sign which brought me peace.
Now that this miracle had actually happened to me again, it was time to get down to business and choose care. Earlier in the month, I had my annual checkup with my midwife. I had an odd feeling as Robert and I walked up to the hospital. I was overcome with the feeling that I didn’t belong in there, and didn’t want to go in. I hadn’t seen her in a year and was treated by staff as if I’d never existed. I spent several minutes filling out paperwork like a new patient while Robert sat impatiently beside me. When I checked the box stating I had a previous c-section, I felt as if I had been branded with a scarlet letter ‘C’ on my forehead. During the appointment, I asked my midwife if she thought I was a good candidate for a VBAC. She answered ‘absolutely’ immediately. I asked her thoughts on homebirth, even though I knew she couldn’t recommend it in the case that something went wrong. She felt I’d probably be fine; but because of that small chance the hospital would be best. I left her office quietly in tears with a very heavy heart. I reasoned with myself and thought I’d have to make it the best hospital birth I could. I better not take any chances. However, my heart wasn’t convinced knowing what that kind of birth would mean for me again.
When I tried to schedule a prenatal appointment later, I had to take a blood test to prove I was pregnant. I told the nurse my period was weeks late and I had gotten a positive home pregnancy test, but they needed proof. It was a blunt reminder of hospital policies and that every action must be documented and proven. When I went in for the appointment, I brought Rob. We sat in the waiting room for a long time as I filled out more paperwork. My feelings of not wanting to be in a hospital intensified. When we finally got to see my midwife, I was prepared with specific questions about hospital VBAC. I already knew the answers, but wanted to hear them out loud. As a potential VBAC mom, they would like to have me at the hospital in active labor and I would be monitored...a lot. This meant I would again be tied to bed, not allowed to eat, and treated as if I would need surgery at any moment. It would also be treated as a ‘trial of labor’. From the hospital’s standpoint, they were lucky to be allowed to have trial labors for mom’s that had had a previous c-section. They weren’t about to take any risks that would put that blessing in jeopardy. We understood. However, I couldn’t imagine any mother could have a peaceful and comfortable birth for herself, partner, her uterus, or baby under those conditions. I knew I wasn’t a high risk mother and did not want to be treated as such. My scar was low transverse, it had been over a year since the surgery, and I was very healthy. My chances of anything happening that would require special care were the same as any other mother without a previous c-section. I felt they were even better since I had the emotional strength and past experience to fuel my desire for vaginal birth. Additionally, I had no plans to have pitocin or anything else that would upset my uterus or baby. I’d learned my lesson and wasn’t about to go near the stuff! I felt the moment I stepped onto hospital grounds I would be prepped for surgery, just in case. Our minds were made up. Home was indeed where our hearts were, and where my birth would take place. We said a warm goodbye to our midwife and never looked back.
I needed more information about my c-section for a homebirth, so I tracked down my hospital records to prove where my scar was and that it had been a non-emergency. The papers stated that Robert never descended. With Jessica’s help and the pictures taken shortly after his birth, it was clear what had happened that day. Robert was not only posterior through most of labor, but his head was tilted dramatically to one side. It left a swelling where he had been sitting all those hours on my cervix…while pitocin was cranked! I had always wondered why he seemed so stiff and in pain after the birth. Now I knew that with every pitocin contraction his body was being crumpled and contorted at the neck. We both felt the c-section occurred for more reason than just the interventions I had. Given my past history of sexual abuse and the way I felt emotionally at the time, my body and Robert seemed to be working together to prevent a vaginal hospital birth. One in which that part of me would have been on display, and may have resulted in something even more traumatic for us than what occurred that day.
From what I gathered through research, my best chance of VBAC would be a gentle Waterbirth in the comfort and safety of home. This is where I would live and embody my birth in complete trust and surrender. Armed with knowledge, experience, and dedication, we were ready to find a homebirth midwife. We set out to interview several in town, a true luxury of living in Albuquerque. After careful consideration, we chose Jenny West. We chose her because she had the credentials we were looking for: the most experience, a low hospital transfer rate, and a background in emergency medicine. She was also sensitive and supportive to mothers and fathers playing the most active role during birth. She had more confidence in birth and knowledge than any midwife or doctor I’d ever known, besides my friend Jessica. She was even a successful author of two excellent books. I knew with Jenny, all I needed to do was relax and focus on having my baby. Should I need them, I was in the most qualified and loving hands imaginable. Most importantly, if she recommended transfer to the hospital it would be truly needed. That’s something she did not take lightly which gave me great peace.
With those elements in place, I was free to have a beautiful, calm, and private pregnancy. Time passed quickly as I was busy teaching classes and being at home with Robert. I told very few people of our plans for homebirth. I knew the potential worry, negativity, fear, and criticism would affect me too much. I also realized in order to build trust in myself again; I needed a complete break from dependence on technology. I never gave out a specific ‘due date’, except to my midwife. I thought they caused mothers and babies way more problems than they were worth anyway! I never had any reason for an ultrasound, so I didn’t get one. Plus, I wasn’t comfortable with the potential risks and didn’t want to expose another baby of mine to them. My placenta was no where near my scar, which was obvious by listening through the Doppler. I felt healthier and stronger than I ever had in my entire life. There was no doubt my baby was strong and healthy too.
I relished being pregnant during Spring and Summer. It was wonderful to be growing when everything around me was growing too. Each morning, Robert and I would go outside and work in the garden and play in the backyard under our old elm tree. I decided to give Hypnobirthing another chance determined it would help this time. When I was in my 5th month, I began listening to the relaxation scripts and positive affirmations each night. I taped the example of ‘optimal fetal position for birth’ by my bed since I worried some about posterior babies because of Robert’s labor. However, by the end of the pregnancy, I had so much faith in my baby knowing exactly what position was optimal for us, I felt silly looking at it. I would accept whatever position my baby chose.
As I neared the final weeks, I disappointed many people by telling them how wonderful I felt when they expected me to complain. My belly was beautiful, perfectly round, and I had very little swelling until the last days. I celebrated my perfect pregnant figure with a belly cast. I painted it with a simple bronze, earthy brown and some henna style flowers. The bronze had a light glittery sheen to it. It reflected exactly how I felt throughout the pregnancy: earthy, beautiful, and simple. Since I was too shy to have a belly cast made during Robert’s pregnancy, my cast is now a tribute to both of my son’s. They each played an equal and major role in my journey to VBAC, and homebirth.
I had a Blessingway ceremony/party on a beautiful starry evening a couple of weeks before my birth instead of a baby shower. The ceremony is an old and traditional way of blessing the mother and baby with well wishes and positive support for birth. Only my closest, supportive friends came or sent wishes and beads representing their hopes for me and my baby. I made a necklace from the beads to display during labor. The memories from the ceremony are something I will cherish forever.
As time neared, I had many practice runs. I also felt my baby would never come and apologized several times to him for those thoughts! I knew he would come when the time was perfect for everyone, but I began to wonder. I had consistent contractions each day, and each day their character would change. They would get stronger in a different way. These warm-up contractions had been a constant source of curiosity and amazement throughout the pregnancy. They reminded me how powerful my body was and gave me strength that I knew what I was doing. Finally, after the long wait and huge build up of years of anticipation, it was time.
Rob came home early from work and said if we didn’t have the baby during the weekend he would be in trouble for using the ‘my wife may be in labor’ excuse! It was a Friday evening on September 3rd. I had been so busy nesting that I missed being out in nature, so we all took a long walk together. It was a beautiful night and by the time we were done, it was late. I was pretty sure it was labor towards the end, as I had to slow down and breathe through the contractions. They were getting serious, but it would take more to convince me it was real. I had been silent about them throughout the walk, but when we got home I told Rob. He suggested we take little Robert to his parents house since it was already getting late. I was uncomfortable with this. I didn’t want our family to be separated for long. However, it wasn’t much longer until I was urging the boys to get ready and go. It felt like we were breaking up our family as he drove away. Tears began welling up inside me and I couldn’t watch them leave. It had been a hard decision and source of stress wondering if I should have my son at the birth. I had talked with him about birth several times and watched a few peaceful videos, but he usually got upset. He worried it would hurt me no matter how many times I told him it wouldn’t. He had also voiced negative memories of his birth during the pregnancy which told me we still had stuff to work through together. These things felt like his way of telling me he wasn’t comfortable. In the end, we made the perfect decision. If something upset him and I wasn’t able to comfort him properly, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.
I walked back into the house on a mission. My heart was breaking and I wanted my family back together ASAP. It was time to get down to business. I knew I was going into battle for my baby and my family. It was a battle for natural birth that I was determined could be relaxed and peaceful. It was a battle to save another baby of mine from being born through major surgery with drugs, scissors, and knives.
Every cell in my body was ready to run head-on into whatever labor had to offer with no fear, hesitation, or complaints. My feelings could best be described in one of my favorite songs by Tom Petty in which he writes, “You can stand me up at the gates of hell and I won’t back down”. This was exactly how I felt. There was no backing down. I knew both my baby and my uterus would need this from me. I knew I had to be strong and allow my body to do what needed to be done, gently and efficiently.
I stepped back into our house and dimmed the lights. I lit some candles given to me at my Blessingway, and turned on one of my favorite Beatles songs, ‘Here Comes the Sun’. I talked to my baby and smiled in happiness while listening to the song in our kitchen. There was something special about it that fit the moment perfectly, and I would soon find out why. Little Robert and I listened to it many times during the pregnancy and he would call it ‘our song’ when he wanted to hear it.
By the time Rob returned, I had showered and was in our bedroom. I was sitting on my birth ball breathing deeply and rocking around during contractions. In between I would fall limp and rest. I stayed in there for a long time trying to get some sleep. I was afraid of getting exhausted after what happened during Robert’s birth. Rob made me a warm quesadilla which I ate with great fervor between contractions. I knew I would need the energy.
I had a moment of weakness as my contractions began to take on an odd pattern of piggy backing together. I was afraid of baby being posterior. After a call to Jessica in which she told me to trust all that was happening, I never doubted again. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how mentally prepared and confident you are, you still need to hear those words from a trusted person.
When I emerged from our bedroom, Rob had my birthing space and pool perfectly set up with great care. Colored twinkle lights were lit and it was quiet, cool, and dark. There was a shelf filled with special items like candles and beads from my Blessingway, snacks, water, chocolate, and the blankets I had lovingly sewn for my baby. We chose everything to be in Robert’s room because I felt most protected there. I loved being surrounded by all the reasons why I was doing what I was. It’s a happy place filled with toys, books, and bright colored paintings of animals and a tree that I did as a gift for his 1st birthday. A true labor of love. Peering out the window was our strong and graceful tree that filled the back yard. Its trunk was softly glowing with white twinkle lights that reflected off the leaves above. I felt as if its branches swung around our house protecting and reminding me of wonderful summertime memories.
I was glad to see the birthing pool. I eased my heavy belly down into the warm water and it was pure heaven. My body relaxed involuntarily as gravity was lifted away. I realized that the water acted as a blanket covering my body. I had complete privacy and took comfort in the fact that no one could see any part of me unless I wanted them to. Words cannot express my gratitude for that pool! .
As labor progressed, I became ultra sensitive to light and change. There was only one position I felt most comfortable in, physically and emotionally. I got out of the water once to stretch my joints and go the bathroom. As soon as my belly rose out of the water and gravity hit, the contractions became so intense it was hard to maintain my level of calm. I sank back into the calm waters again shortly after. I returned to the same place and position that I stayed in throughout the rest of labor: on my knees curled up beside the edge of the pool.
It was more than 2 years before I even had a glimmer in my mind of getting pregnant again. I wanted to give myself the best chance possible to have a VBAC. I also wanted to make sure that Robert would handle a sibling okay. My body needed to heal and my heart needed to heal. Most of all, my spirit needed to heal.
I found out I was pregnant on a beautiful December morning shortly after word that my husband’s beloved Grandfather passed away. He was the wonderful man my Robert was named after. News of the pregnancy was a gift to both of our families, and we told everyone right away this time. I took the timing of the pregnancy as a special sign which brought me peace.
Now that this miracle had actually happened to me again, it was time to get down to business and choose care. Earlier in the month, I had my annual checkup with my midwife. I had an odd feeling as Robert and I walked up to the hospital. I was overcome with the feeling that I didn’t belong in there, and didn’t want to go in. I hadn’t seen her in a year and was treated by staff as if I’d never existed. I spent several minutes filling out paperwork like a new patient while Robert sat impatiently beside me. When I checked the box stating I had a previous c-section, I felt as if I had been branded with a scarlet letter ‘C’ on my forehead. During the appointment, I asked my midwife if she thought I was a good candidate for a VBAC. She answered ‘absolutely’ immediately. I asked her thoughts on homebirth, even though I knew she couldn’t recommend it in the case that something went wrong. She felt I’d probably be fine; but because of that small chance the hospital would be best. I left her office quietly in tears with a very heavy heart. I reasoned with myself and thought I’d have to make it the best hospital birth I could. I better not take any chances. However, my heart wasn’t convinced knowing what that kind of birth would mean for me again.
When I tried to schedule a prenatal appointment later, I had to take a blood test to prove I was pregnant. I told the nurse my period was weeks late and I had gotten a positive home pregnancy test, but they needed proof. It was a blunt reminder of hospital policies and that every action must be documented and proven. When I went in for the appointment, I brought Rob. We sat in the waiting room for a long time as I filled out more paperwork. My feelings of not wanting to be in a hospital intensified. When we finally got to see my midwife, I was prepared with specific questions about hospital VBAC. I already knew the answers, but wanted to hear them out loud. As a potential VBAC mom, they would like to have me at the hospital in active labor and I would be monitored...a lot. This meant I would again be tied to bed, not allowed to eat, and treated as if I would need surgery at any moment. It would also be treated as a ‘trial of labor’. From the hospital’s standpoint, they were lucky to be allowed to have trial labors for mom’s that had had a previous c-section. They weren’t about to take any risks that would put that blessing in jeopardy. We understood. However, I couldn’t imagine any mother could have a peaceful and comfortable birth for herself, partner, her uterus, or baby under those conditions. I knew I wasn’t a high risk mother and did not want to be treated as such. My scar was low transverse, it had been over a year since the surgery, and I was very healthy. My chances of anything happening that would require special care were the same as any other mother without a previous c-section. I felt they were even better since I had the emotional strength and past experience to fuel my desire for vaginal birth. Additionally, I had no plans to have pitocin or anything else that would upset my uterus or baby. I’d learned my lesson and wasn’t about to go near the stuff! I felt the moment I stepped onto hospital grounds I would be prepped for surgery, just in case. Our minds were made up. Home was indeed where our hearts were, and where my birth would take place. We said a warm goodbye to our midwife and never looked back.
I needed more information about my c-section for a homebirth, so I tracked down my hospital records to prove where my scar was and that it had been a non-emergency. The papers stated that Robert never descended. With Jessica’s help and the pictures taken shortly after his birth, it was clear what had happened that day. Robert was not only posterior through most of labor, but his head was tilted dramatically to one side. It left a swelling where he had been sitting all those hours on my cervix…while pitocin was cranked! I had always wondered why he seemed so stiff and in pain after the birth. Now I knew that with every pitocin contraction his body was being crumpled and contorted at the neck. We both felt the c-section occurred for more reason than just the interventions I had. Given my past history of sexual abuse and the way I felt emotionally at the time, my body and Robert seemed to be working together to prevent a vaginal hospital birth. One in which that part of me would have been on display, and may have resulted in something even more traumatic for us than what occurred that day.
From what I gathered through research, my best chance of VBAC would be a gentle Waterbirth in the comfort and safety of home. This is where I would live and embody my birth in complete trust and surrender. Armed with knowledge, experience, and dedication, we were ready to find a homebirth midwife. We set out to interview several in town, a true luxury of living in Albuquerque. After careful consideration, we chose Jenny West. We chose her because she had the credentials we were looking for: the most experience, a low hospital transfer rate, and a background in emergency medicine. She was also sensitive and supportive to mothers and fathers playing the most active role during birth. She had more confidence in birth and knowledge than any midwife or doctor I’d ever known, besides my friend Jessica. She was even a successful author of two excellent books. I knew with Jenny, all I needed to do was relax and focus on having my baby. Should I need them, I was in the most qualified and loving hands imaginable. Most importantly, if she recommended transfer to the hospital it would be truly needed. That’s something she did not take lightly which gave me great peace.
With those elements in place, I was free to have a beautiful, calm, and private pregnancy. Time passed quickly as I was busy teaching classes and being at home with Robert. I told very few people of our plans for homebirth. I knew the potential worry, negativity, fear, and criticism would affect me too much. I also realized in order to build trust in myself again; I needed a complete break from dependence on technology. I never gave out a specific ‘due date’, except to my midwife. I thought they caused mothers and babies way more problems than they were worth anyway! I never had any reason for an ultrasound, so I didn’t get one. Plus, I wasn’t comfortable with the potential risks and didn’t want to expose another baby of mine to them. My placenta was no where near my scar, which was obvious by listening through the Doppler. I felt healthier and stronger than I ever had in my entire life. There was no doubt my baby was strong and healthy too.
I relished being pregnant during Spring and Summer. It was wonderful to be growing when everything around me was growing too. Each morning, Robert and I would go outside and work in the garden and play in the backyard under our old elm tree. I decided to give Hypnobirthing another chance determined it would help this time. When I was in my 5th month, I began listening to the relaxation scripts and positive affirmations each night. I taped the example of ‘optimal fetal position for birth’ by my bed since I worried some about posterior babies because of Robert’s labor. However, by the end of the pregnancy, I had so much faith in my baby knowing exactly what position was optimal for us, I felt silly looking at it. I would accept whatever position my baby chose.
As I neared the final weeks, I disappointed many people by telling them how wonderful I felt when they expected me to complain. My belly was beautiful, perfectly round, and I had very little swelling until the last days. I celebrated my perfect pregnant figure with a belly cast. I painted it with a simple bronze, earthy brown and some henna style flowers. The bronze had a light glittery sheen to it. It reflected exactly how I felt throughout the pregnancy: earthy, beautiful, and simple. Since I was too shy to have a belly cast made during Robert’s pregnancy, my cast is now a tribute to both of my son’s. They each played an equal and major role in my journey to VBAC, and homebirth.
I had a Blessingway ceremony/party on a beautiful starry evening a couple of weeks before my birth instead of a baby shower. The ceremony is an old and traditional way of blessing the mother and baby with well wishes and positive support for birth. Only my closest, supportive friends came or sent wishes and beads representing their hopes for me and my baby. I made a necklace from the beads to display during labor. The memories from the ceremony are something I will cherish forever.
As time neared, I had many practice runs. I also felt my baby would never come and apologized several times to him for those thoughts! I knew he would come when the time was perfect for everyone, but I began to wonder. I had consistent contractions each day, and each day their character would change. They would get stronger in a different way. These warm-up contractions had been a constant source of curiosity and amazement throughout the pregnancy. They reminded me how powerful my body was and gave me strength that I knew what I was doing. Finally, after the long wait and huge build up of years of anticipation, it was time.
Rob came home early from work and said if we didn’t have the baby during the weekend he would be in trouble for using the ‘my wife may be in labor’ excuse! It was a Friday evening on September 3rd. I had been so busy nesting that I missed being out in nature, so we all took a long walk together. It was a beautiful night and by the time we were done, it was late. I was pretty sure it was labor towards the end, as I had to slow down and breathe through the contractions. They were getting serious, but it would take more to convince me it was real. I had been silent about them throughout the walk, but when we got home I told Rob. He suggested we take little Robert to his parents house since it was already getting late. I was uncomfortable with this. I didn’t want our family to be separated for long. However, it wasn’t much longer until I was urging the boys to get ready and go. It felt like we were breaking up our family as he drove away. Tears began welling up inside me and I couldn’t watch them leave. It had been a hard decision and source of stress wondering if I should have my son at the birth. I had talked with him about birth several times and watched a few peaceful videos, but he usually got upset. He worried it would hurt me no matter how many times I told him it wouldn’t. He had also voiced negative memories of his birth during the pregnancy which told me we still had stuff to work through together. These things felt like his way of telling me he wasn’t comfortable. In the end, we made the perfect decision. If something upset him and I wasn’t able to comfort him properly, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.
I walked back into the house on a mission. My heart was breaking and I wanted my family back together ASAP. It was time to get down to business. I knew I was going into battle for my baby and my family. It was a battle for natural birth that I was determined could be relaxed and peaceful. It was a battle to save another baby of mine from being born through major surgery with drugs, scissors, and knives.
Every cell in my body was ready to run head-on into whatever labor had to offer with no fear, hesitation, or complaints. My feelings could best be described in one of my favorite songs by Tom Petty in which he writes, “You can stand me up at the gates of hell and I won’t back down”. This was exactly how I felt. There was no backing down. I knew both my baby and my uterus would need this from me. I knew I had to be strong and allow my body to do what needed to be done, gently and efficiently.
I stepped back into our house and dimmed the lights. I lit some candles given to me at my Blessingway, and turned on one of my favorite Beatles songs, ‘Here Comes the Sun’. I talked to my baby and smiled in happiness while listening to the song in our kitchen. There was something special about it that fit the moment perfectly, and I would soon find out why. Little Robert and I listened to it many times during the pregnancy and he would call it ‘our song’ when he wanted to hear it.
By the time Rob returned, I had showered and was in our bedroom. I was sitting on my birth ball breathing deeply and rocking around during contractions. In between I would fall limp and rest. I stayed in there for a long time trying to get some sleep. I was afraid of getting exhausted after what happened during Robert’s birth. Rob made me a warm quesadilla which I ate with great fervor between contractions. I knew I would need the energy.
I had a moment of weakness as my contractions began to take on an odd pattern of piggy backing together. I was afraid of baby being posterior. After a call to Jessica in which she told me to trust all that was happening, I never doubted again. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how mentally prepared and confident you are, you still need to hear those words from a trusted person.
When I emerged from our bedroom, Rob had my birthing space and pool perfectly set up with great care. Colored twinkle lights were lit and it was quiet, cool, and dark. There was a shelf filled with special items like candles and beads from my Blessingway, snacks, water, chocolate, and the blankets I had lovingly sewn for my baby. We chose everything to be in Robert’s room because I felt most protected there. I loved being surrounded by all the reasons why I was doing what I was. It’s a happy place filled with toys, books, and bright colored paintings of animals and a tree that I did as a gift for his 1st birthday. A true labor of love. Peering out the window was our strong and graceful tree that filled the back yard. Its trunk was softly glowing with white twinkle lights that reflected off the leaves above. I felt as if its branches swung around our house protecting and reminding me of wonderful summertime memories.
I was glad to see the birthing pool. I eased my heavy belly down into the warm water and it was pure heaven. My body relaxed involuntarily as gravity was lifted away. I realized that the water acted as a blanket covering my body. I had complete privacy and took comfort in the fact that no one could see any part of me unless I wanted them to. Words cannot express my gratitude for that pool! .
As labor progressed, I became ultra sensitive to light and change. There was only one position I felt most comfortable in, physically and emotionally. I got out of the water once to stretch my joints and go the bathroom. As soon as my belly rose out of the water and gravity hit, the contractions became so intense it was hard to maintain my level of calm. I sank back into the calm waters again shortly after. I returned to the same place and position that I stayed in throughout the rest of labor: on my knees curled up beside the edge of the pool.
***
As alert and alive as I was, many things became a blur. Rob cuddled up in front of me from outside the pool and surrounded me with big strong arms. The room was filled with the sounds of the Hypnobirthing CD. I worked hard to keep every muscle loose, especially my jaw, forehead, hands, thighs, and shoulders. I never once thought ‘I can’t do this’. I couldn’t allow that thought anywhere near me. I knew one moment of doubt or tensing up would cause my labor to cross over to being ‘painful’. I also found if I relaxed enough to doze off on the soft rim of the pool I would struggle to manage the next contraction. So, I stayed in a state between sleep and wake. As I was snacking, Rob and I were thankful to be surrounded in the utmost intimacy and comfort together. No one bothered us and I ate freely and did what I needed to do. The most blissful part of all was Rob was finally allowed to be the great protector and supporter over his laboring wife and child!
When our energy started getting a little low, I asked for Jessica. It was early morning when she arrived, and I was entering the final stages of opening and nearing transition. My baby was feeling the same as I was; his heart tones were calm and strong.
When Jessica asked if I wanted to know how dilated I was, I refused. I didn’t want to be let down like I had been during Robert’s birth. I also knew dilation was the last thing to happen after everything else was in place and ready for a baby to come down and out. Finding out how open I was would either help or hinder me, and I didn’t want to chance it. Plus, I had seen no sign of dilation, no ‘show’ which discouraged me because labor had become so intense. I found myself worrying that I was working so hard, had many hours to go, and had not opened at all.
However, it was clear to anyone observing my body language, which was now moaning loudly during each contraction, that labor was serious and making great progress. Had I been checked to see how dilated I was, the news wouldn’t have discouraged me. I was almost 10 cm open and would be pushing soon! But, I still refused. It didn’t feel natural to me to be checked. There were higher powers at work and it would have been disrespectful to interfere.
Just before early morning approached, the darkest hour of night, I first felt the urge to push. It took me by surprise and I was filled with confusion and curiosity. I wanted to smile, but could I really be ready to push? Robert’s labor had taken days. Am I really going to have a baby this soon? It took a little while until I was pushing with every contraction. It was overwhelming and powerful all at the same time!
A primal part of me took over, and she was someone that knew exactly what she was doing. I had heard that there is a part of us all that knows exactly how to give birth, and now I was experiencing this force fully aware and first hand! I had no choice but to go with what was happening. I did the best I could to stay on ‘top’ of each pushing contraction instead of getting pulled into an undercurrent. After my first tiny push, we saw show. Finally! I was laughing with relief and joking about it.
I felt myself opening at the beginning of each contraction. My water broke during the middle of one. Other than crowning, this was the most intense experience I had! I felt a big pop and froze in silence as I realized what had happened. I actually got to feel it! That was so important to me. I wouldn’t let anyone near my bag of waters with a ten foot pole after what happened with Robert! I looked down to see the wave in the pool caused by the gush. I heard in my mind stories I had read from other women’s experience of this. I expected to feel my baby drop down with great intensity. It didn’t happen. I did feel him start to move down though, which was challenging. I was anxious for him to be born and my lower back was constantly aching as it was opening to make room for him.
My labor was intense from the beginning and didn’t change much the entire time. The contractions just picked up speed and got longer. It was wearing on me and I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to stay so calm. As I voiced these thoughts, Rob and Jessica giggled at me because they knew it would all be over in minutes and I WAS doing it! My baby would come down very far and go all the way back up during contractions. I saw the beautiful end in sight and was determined for him to come out. I began constantly talking to and asking my baby to please come out. I said not to worry, that I was right there waiting. I felt the need to be very involved with everything by touch. It kept me grounded to feel progress and know exactly how far he came and how much we had to go. So, with each contraction, my hand was on his head. I felt the slippery overlapped plates of his head as they gently molded together as he came down. It was a remarkable.
In between contractions I rested on the side of the pool and sipped cold milk with chocolate ovaltine for energy. My midwife Jenny was now in the room and I was nearing the grand finale. I struggled some as both the physical and emotional feelings I had were the strongest I have ever felt, and I was so ready for him to come out! However, no formidable worry was in my mind and I remained completely confident.
With my husband beside me anxiously watching the water, Jenny’s arm firmly around my shoulders, and everyone providing sweet words of encouragement…my beautiful baby’s head gently slid out and into my hands. I could feel him lightly flicking his tiny fingers from inside. He still does this when he gets excited! I heard and incorporated everything said around me, but was totally inside my head and body. Everyone was asking me what I felt and I was happily able to say ‘His head is out!” I didn’t know if my baby was a boy or girl, but during pushing I spontaneously began calling him a boy. I guess I knew all along in my heart. I remember the golden words spoken to my husband by Jenny, “Dad, would you like to reach down and feel your baby’s head?” It felt so good to be able to give that gift to my husband.
A few moments later, my baby turned his body so his shoulders glided out into the warm water followed by the rest of his body. Sweet relief! We did it! We really did it! I was in shock, but this time it was a good thing. He wore his cord like a seat belt around his body, which ended up draped around his neck and I needed help getting it undone. It wasn’t looped around his neck completely; it just looked like he had used the cord to rein himself back from coming out too fast. What a wonderful guy! Babies never cease to amaze me with their all-knowing intelligence. I had heard many cool stories of babies doing certain things in birth that only they would know to do. I had no idea I would have the blessing of having one of ‘those’ babies and my own story to share. I thanked him several times over the next two weeks for being so sweet to me. I now had an explanation of why he was coming down so far and going back up.
My sweet baby was now in my arms as I smiled a great smile and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was ready to nurse within minutes and latched on like a champ. I nursed him as we waited for his placenta to arrive. When it did it was beautiful and healthy. I never before had the pleasure of seeing my baby still connected by his cord to the remarkable organ that grew and protected him. Once his cord stopped pulsating and we were ready to cut it, Rob did the honors. I emerged tenderly from the water shortly after that in triumph while Rob held his new son skin-to-skin on his chest for the first time. The proud daddy of two sons!
Baby Nathaniel (Nate) was born on September 4th, 2010 at 7:54 am. We were the first ones to touch our baby. His birth announcement read: ‘Born into His Mother’s Hands’- a fact that I was particularly proud of.
It wasn’t until I heard his weight that I realized what I had just accomplished. As I held him in the water I jokingly said he looked like he was 8 lbs or so. Everyone agreed. When Jenny weighed him I saw her face light up. Turns out, he weighed a whopping 9lbs 8 oz!!! When the news registered, I broke down in uncontrollable tears. All I could say was “I can’t believe little ol’ me just had a VBAC, homebirth, AND a 9lb 8 oz baby!” His size was the cherry on the top.
In my heart I knew he was a ‘big’ baby, but my mind was afraid to accept it. If I had gotten an ultrasound or had any idea he would be that big, I know I would have struggled with doubt at least during pushing. I also knew if I had a VBAC with a baby that was an ‘average’ weight like my first son, I would surely come across people who said, “I had my c-section because my baby was 9 lbs!” or that they required drugs for the same reason. The only explanation I can give myself is that the universe knew I would take my experience and use it wisely to help encourage other’s that they can do it too. All it takes is un-wavering faith in your baby and body. I was granted everything I hoped for and so much more!
I cuddled him in shock. He was a boy, a BIG boy, with such a strong and peaceful spirit. It surprised me so much I felt as though I didn’t even know him. It would take us days of deep consideration to find the right name for him. I realized at that point that his spirit within me was an integral part of why I was so confident and relaxed during my pregnancy and birth.
The differences in my life between this birth and my last have been phenomenal. I joked immediately after he was born that the intensity of birth was a great form of birth control! However, I can excitedly say there was no pain; I have NO trauma, and ONLY joy. I have been proud for others to hold and enjoy our sweet baby Nate who’s full of chubby smiles, cuddles, and happiness. I even find myself daydreaming of another baby already. My husband and I are doing wonderful; the difference has been like night and day. I thank him dearly for giving me the most precious gifts anyone could ever ask for.
When our energy started getting a little low, I asked for Jessica. It was early morning when she arrived, and I was entering the final stages of opening and nearing transition. My baby was feeling the same as I was; his heart tones were calm and strong.
When Jessica asked if I wanted to know how dilated I was, I refused. I didn’t want to be let down like I had been during Robert’s birth. I also knew dilation was the last thing to happen after everything else was in place and ready for a baby to come down and out. Finding out how open I was would either help or hinder me, and I didn’t want to chance it. Plus, I had seen no sign of dilation, no ‘show’ which discouraged me because labor had become so intense. I found myself worrying that I was working so hard, had many hours to go, and had not opened at all.
However, it was clear to anyone observing my body language, which was now moaning loudly during each contraction, that labor was serious and making great progress. Had I been checked to see how dilated I was, the news wouldn’t have discouraged me. I was almost 10 cm open and would be pushing soon! But, I still refused. It didn’t feel natural to me to be checked. There were higher powers at work and it would have been disrespectful to interfere.
Just before early morning approached, the darkest hour of night, I first felt the urge to push. It took me by surprise and I was filled with confusion and curiosity. I wanted to smile, but could I really be ready to push? Robert’s labor had taken days. Am I really going to have a baby this soon? It took a little while until I was pushing with every contraction. It was overwhelming and powerful all at the same time!
A primal part of me took over, and she was someone that knew exactly what she was doing. I had heard that there is a part of us all that knows exactly how to give birth, and now I was experiencing this force fully aware and first hand! I had no choice but to go with what was happening. I did the best I could to stay on ‘top’ of each pushing contraction instead of getting pulled into an undercurrent. After my first tiny push, we saw show. Finally! I was laughing with relief and joking about it.
I felt myself opening at the beginning of each contraction. My water broke during the middle of one. Other than crowning, this was the most intense experience I had! I felt a big pop and froze in silence as I realized what had happened. I actually got to feel it! That was so important to me. I wouldn’t let anyone near my bag of waters with a ten foot pole after what happened with Robert! I looked down to see the wave in the pool caused by the gush. I heard in my mind stories I had read from other women’s experience of this. I expected to feel my baby drop down with great intensity. It didn’t happen. I did feel him start to move down though, which was challenging. I was anxious for him to be born and my lower back was constantly aching as it was opening to make room for him.
My labor was intense from the beginning and didn’t change much the entire time. The contractions just picked up speed and got longer. It was wearing on me and I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to stay so calm. As I voiced these thoughts, Rob and Jessica giggled at me because they knew it would all be over in minutes and I WAS doing it! My baby would come down very far and go all the way back up during contractions. I saw the beautiful end in sight and was determined for him to come out. I began constantly talking to and asking my baby to please come out. I said not to worry, that I was right there waiting. I felt the need to be very involved with everything by touch. It kept me grounded to feel progress and know exactly how far he came and how much we had to go. So, with each contraction, my hand was on his head. I felt the slippery overlapped plates of his head as they gently molded together as he came down. It was a remarkable.
In between contractions I rested on the side of the pool and sipped cold milk with chocolate ovaltine for energy. My midwife Jenny was now in the room and I was nearing the grand finale. I struggled some as both the physical and emotional feelings I had were the strongest I have ever felt, and I was so ready for him to come out! However, no formidable worry was in my mind and I remained completely confident.
With my husband beside me anxiously watching the water, Jenny’s arm firmly around my shoulders, and everyone providing sweet words of encouragement…my beautiful baby’s head gently slid out and into my hands. I could feel him lightly flicking his tiny fingers from inside. He still does this when he gets excited! I heard and incorporated everything said around me, but was totally inside my head and body. Everyone was asking me what I felt and I was happily able to say ‘His head is out!” I didn’t know if my baby was a boy or girl, but during pushing I spontaneously began calling him a boy. I guess I knew all along in my heart. I remember the golden words spoken to my husband by Jenny, “Dad, would you like to reach down and feel your baby’s head?” It felt so good to be able to give that gift to my husband.
A few moments later, my baby turned his body so his shoulders glided out into the warm water followed by the rest of his body. Sweet relief! We did it! We really did it! I was in shock, but this time it was a good thing. He wore his cord like a seat belt around his body, which ended up draped around his neck and I needed help getting it undone. It wasn’t looped around his neck completely; it just looked like he had used the cord to rein himself back from coming out too fast. What a wonderful guy! Babies never cease to amaze me with their all-knowing intelligence. I had heard many cool stories of babies doing certain things in birth that only they would know to do. I had no idea I would have the blessing of having one of ‘those’ babies and my own story to share. I thanked him several times over the next two weeks for being so sweet to me. I now had an explanation of why he was coming down so far and going back up.
My sweet baby was now in my arms as I smiled a great smile and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was ready to nurse within minutes and latched on like a champ. I nursed him as we waited for his placenta to arrive. When it did it was beautiful and healthy. I never before had the pleasure of seeing my baby still connected by his cord to the remarkable organ that grew and protected him. Once his cord stopped pulsating and we were ready to cut it, Rob did the honors. I emerged tenderly from the water shortly after that in triumph while Rob held his new son skin-to-skin on his chest for the first time. The proud daddy of two sons!
Baby Nathaniel (Nate) was born on September 4th, 2010 at 7:54 am. We were the first ones to touch our baby. His birth announcement read: ‘Born into His Mother’s Hands’- a fact that I was particularly proud of.
It wasn’t until I heard his weight that I realized what I had just accomplished. As I held him in the water I jokingly said he looked like he was 8 lbs or so. Everyone agreed. When Jenny weighed him I saw her face light up. Turns out, he weighed a whopping 9lbs 8 oz!!! When the news registered, I broke down in uncontrollable tears. All I could say was “I can’t believe little ol’ me just had a VBAC, homebirth, AND a 9lb 8 oz baby!” His size was the cherry on the top.
In my heart I knew he was a ‘big’ baby, but my mind was afraid to accept it. If I had gotten an ultrasound or had any idea he would be that big, I know I would have struggled with doubt at least during pushing. I also knew if I had a VBAC with a baby that was an ‘average’ weight like my first son, I would surely come across people who said, “I had my c-section because my baby was 9 lbs!” or that they required drugs for the same reason. The only explanation I can give myself is that the universe knew I would take my experience and use it wisely to help encourage other’s that they can do it too. All it takes is un-wavering faith in your baby and body. I was granted everything I hoped for and so much more!
I cuddled him in shock. He was a boy, a BIG boy, with such a strong and peaceful spirit. It surprised me so much I felt as though I didn’t even know him. It would take us days of deep consideration to find the right name for him. I realized at that point that his spirit within me was an integral part of why I was so confident and relaxed during my pregnancy and birth.
The differences in my life between this birth and my last have been phenomenal. I joked immediately after he was born that the intensity of birth was a great form of birth control! However, I can excitedly say there was no pain; I have NO trauma, and ONLY joy. I have been proud for others to hold and enjoy our sweet baby Nate who’s full of chubby smiles, cuddles, and happiness. I even find myself daydreaming of another baby already. My husband and I are doing wonderful; the difference has been like night and day. I thank him dearly for giving me the most precious gifts anyone could ever ask for.
***
What I’ve learned and what I hope
What I learned is that no matter how hard you work to heal from the emotional and physical hardships associated with most c-sections (needed or not), and no matter how wonderful and perfect your VBAC experience is- it may never replace hurt from a first birth by cesarean. It’s true that time heals wounds. However, some wounds aren’t meant to be completely healed, and that’s OK. My scar, for example, is an ever-present reminder and source of both hope and hurt.
What you do get from VBAC is a safer birth for you and your next baby. You also get confidence and peace knowing your body DOES work and you CAN do it. Not to mention great relief that you and your baby will not have to undergo and recover from major abdominal surgery again. There is a sore and broken place inside me that will never forgive or forget what happened to me and my family during our first birth. My heart especially aches over what my son went through. This is regardless of the fact that ‘I didn’t know then what I know now’.
There is also no such thing as a ‘trial of labor’ with VBAC. If you are healthy and low risk, you must commit to VBAC wholeheartedly and go for it. Just take one contraction at a time and never give up. It doesn’t matter if you are at home or in the hospital. Any great birth takes great determination. This is especially true for the mother with a physical and emotional scar tempting her to believe something may not be ‘right’ with her body. If you are in a hospital, you may find that you and your partner are the only ones who truly believe you can do it because VBAC has been poorly understood for many years. Just like during a homebirth, you need to be fully prepared to rely exclusively on your body and baby.
I have also learned there’s a world of difference between hospital and homebirth babies. This knowledge will make my return to teaching baby care in a hospital very difficult. If I had a dollar every time someone said how alert, calm, and happy baby Nate is, I would have a good sum of money by now. The truth is- he’s no miracle baby. He is acting exactly how a baby should act that has had a happy pregnancy, a gentle and natural Waterbirth at home, been breastfed, left uncircumcised, gotten all of his precious blood from his placenta, and has never been separated from his parents.
I would also like to address the fear associated with ‘big’ babies. They deserve the same opportunity to grow, develop, and signal to their mother when they are ready for life outside the womb as a ‘normal’ sized baby. ‘Big’ babies are just as tender and pure as any other baby, and are not a medical condition. I use quotations because I don’t believe a healthy mother will grow a baby that is too big for her to birth. This is as long as she believes she can do it and is in the right supportive environment. The way I see it, ‘bigger’ babies are a true blessing since they tend to have shorter and more straightforward births given their extra weight. This is especially a blessing for the VBAC mother. Please take pride in your body and in the baby you create.
Lastly, I will spend the rest of my life fighting for and helping mothers have the courage and right to VBAC and a birth they can be proud of. Not just any VBAC, and not just any birth though. One in which the mother-baby team are highly protected, respected, supported, empowered, in control, trusted, honored, and loved.
It is my sincere hope that this story reaches other mother’s and gives them peace that there is a better birth. It’s real and in reach. I hope it empowers mothers to take the time to learn and develop the heart within them to know exactly what they want and need, and not feel ashamed for it. My hope is that they will strive to give themselves, their baby, and their family a peaceful, gentle birth that is free of drugs, unnecessary interventions, worry, and stress. Our bodies and babies are perfectly designed to help us every step of the way. You can do it and do it well!
As the saying goes, “Birth is not a means to an end- it’s a means to a beginning”. Don’t let your past birth dictate your future births. What most moms and babies are experiencing now and have been for generations is nothing of what it can and should be. I have heard women say, ‘Its time to take back our births!’, and now I understand the power in those words. Yes, please give yourself the gift of courage and trust in your body to have the birth you are meant to have- for everyone involved!
Have the strength to break away from the fear and overuse of technology that surrounds birth in our society today. Find a caregiver that you can truly trust. Please, please, consider birth away from a hospital if at all possible. It is there where you will truly ‘give’ birth in all its glory and color. If you are in a hospital, don’t let politics and policies interfere with your gentle birth.
Lastly, know that your pregnancy and birth will be the only one you get with your baby. Take pride in this fact. Enjoy and treasure every piece of it for all that it is and will be. Break the cycle of poor expectations, ill treatment, and traumatic birth. We don’t get the opportunity to nourish and bring life into the world enough! I BROKE THE CYCLE. My baby broke the cycle. My husband broke the cycle. ~You can do it too!
Finally, and most dear to my heart- it saddens me greatly that the birth of a sweet and dearly innocent child would ever be equated with trauma, excruciating pain, and dread. Please know that your baby will be in labor too, and will have their own experience. An intense and meaningful experience, full of sensation and raw emotion. It will be intimately guided by your feelings about them and your experience. So, please do your best to blanket them with positive thoughts of love and good energy. They need your support too.
Lastly, anticipate, demand, and expect greatness from yourself, your body, and your baby because it is nothing short of what you will experience. Best of luck and warm wishes for a beautiful birth!
A Special Thanks To: My wonderful husband for always supporting and standing by me through every hardship, tear, and joyous moment; to Big Brother Robert for choosing me as his mother knowing the birth he would have; to Jessica Weed for all the support, information, long conversations and insight; to Jenny West for your knowledge, gentle hands, glittering faith and trust in my birth, and blessing me with the greatest gift: catching my own precious baby; and to Baby Nate for a beautiful and victorious VBAC. I owe my heart to each of you. Also, thank you dearly to VBAC Support, Int. for the awesome opportunity for my story to be heard.
What I learned is that no matter how hard you work to heal from the emotional and physical hardships associated with most c-sections (needed or not), and no matter how wonderful and perfect your VBAC experience is- it may never replace hurt from a first birth by cesarean. It’s true that time heals wounds. However, some wounds aren’t meant to be completely healed, and that’s OK. My scar, for example, is an ever-present reminder and source of both hope and hurt.
What you do get from VBAC is a safer birth for you and your next baby. You also get confidence and peace knowing your body DOES work and you CAN do it. Not to mention great relief that you and your baby will not have to undergo and recover from major abdominal surgery again. There is a sore and broken place inside me that will never forgive or forget what happened to me and my family during our first birth. My heart especially aches over what my son went through. This is regardless of the fact that ‘I didn’t know then what I know now’.
There is also no such thing as a ‘trial of labor’ with VBAC. If you are healthy and low risk, you must commit to VBAC wholeheartedly and go for it. Just take one contraction at a time and never give up. It doesn’t matter if you are at home or in the hospital. Any great birth takes great determination. This is especially true for the mother with a physical and emotional scar tempting her to believe something may not be ‘right’ with her body. If you are in a hospital, you may find that you and your partner are the only ones who truly believe you can do it because VBAC has been poorly understood for many years. Just like during a homebirth, you need to be fully prepared to rely exclusively on your body and baby.
I have also learned there’s a world of difference between hospital and homebirth babies. This knowledge will make my return to teaching baby care in a hospital very difficult. If I had a dollar every time someone said how alert, calm, and happy baby Nate is, I would have a good sum of money by now. The truth is- he’s no miracle baby. He is acting exactly how a baby should act that has had a happy pregnancy, a gentle and natural Waterbirth at home, been breastfed, left uncircumcised, gotten all of his precious blood from his placenta, and has never been separated from his parents.
I would also like to address the fear associated with ‘big’ babies. They deserve the same opportunity to grow, develop, and signal to their mother when they are ready for life outside the womb as a ‘normal’ sized baby. ‘Big’ babies are just as tender and pure as any other baby, and are not a medical condition. I use quotations because I don’t believe a healthy mother will grow a baby that is too big for her to birth. This is as long as she believes she can do it and is in the right supportive environment. The way I see it, ‘bigger’ babies are a true blessing since they tend to have shorter and more straightforward births given their extra weight. This is especially a blessing for the VBAC mother. Please take pride in your body and in the baby you create.
Lastly, I will spend the rest of my life fighting for and helping mothers have the courage and right to VBAC and a birth they can be proud of. Not just any VBAC, and not just any birth though. One in which the mother-baby team are highly protected, respected, supported, empowered, in control, trusted, honored, and loved.
It is my sincere hope that this story reaches other mother’s and gives them peace that there is a better birth. It’s real and in reach. I hope it empowers mothers to take the time to learn and develop the heart within them to know exactly what they want and need, and not feel ashamed for it. My hope is that they will strive to give themselves, their baby, and their family a peaceful, gentle birth that is free of drugs, unnecessary interventions, worry, and stress. Our bodies and babies are perfectly designed to help us every step of the way. You can do it and do it well!
As the saying goes, “Birth is not a means to an end- it’s a means to a beginning”. Don’t let your past birth dictate your future births. What most moms and babies are experiencing now and have been for generations is nothing of what it can and should be. I have heard women say, ‘Its time to take back our births!’, and now I understand the power in those words. Yes, please give yourself the gift of courage and trust in your body to have the birth you are meant to have- for everyone involved!
Have the strength to break away from the fear and overuse of technology that surrounds birth in our society today. Find a caregiver that you can truly trust. Please, please, consider birth away from a hospital if at all possible. It is there where you will truly ‘give’ birth in all its glory and color. If you are in a hospital, don’t let politics and policies interfere with your gentle birth.
Lastly, know that your pregnancy and birth will be the only one you get with your baby. Take pride in this fact. Enjoy and treasure every piece of it for all that it is and will be. Break the cycle of poor expectations, ill treatment, and traumatic birth. We don’t get the opportunity to nourish and bring life into the world enough! I BROKE THE CYCLE. My baby broke the cycle. My husband broke the cycle. ~You can do it too!
Finally, and most dear to my heart- it saddens me greatly that the birth of a sweet and dearly innocent child would ever be equated with trauma, excruciating pain, and dread. Please know that your baby will be in labor too, and will have their own experience. An intense and meaningful experience, full of sensation and raw emotion. It will be intimately guided by your feelings about them and your experience. So, please do your best to blanket them with positive thoughts of love and good energy. They need your support too.
Lastly, anticipate, demand, and expect greatness from yourself, your body, and your baby because it is nothing short of what you will experience. Best of luck and warm wishes for a beautiful birth!
A Special Thanks To: My wonderful husband for always supporting and standing by me through every hardship, tear, and joyous moment; to Big Brother Robert for choosing me as his mother knowing the birth he would have; to Jessica Weed for all the support, information, long conversations and insight; to Jenny West for your knowledge, gentle hands, glittering faith and trust in my birth, and blessing me with the greatest gift: catching my own precious baby; and to Baby Nate for a beautiful and victorious VBAC. I owe my heart to each of you. Also, thank you dearly to VBAC Support, Int. for the awesome opportunity for my story to be heard.
