The Birth Story

Here it is.

Birth Story V

Rachel’s Birth

It is my belief that birth is not only a physical journey, but a spiritual one as well. Every birth experience gives the mother the opportunity to learn something about herself and the opportunity to grow and progress spiritually. For me, this birth was one that helped me to regain courage.

To my friends and family, it is no secret that for the first time in five pregnancies, I was apprehensive about labor. More specifically, I was apprehensive about the transition stage of labor… in fact, at times, I was downright fearful. There were nights during my pregnancy when I would wake up thinking about transition and not be able to fall back to sleep. I spent hours upon hours contemplating, playing out the scene, self-talking, persuading, and at times pleading for the strength to have a positive mindset about transition. Just when I thought I had the upper hand, an invasive thought would prevail and I would be back to being fearful. Something was deeply ingrained, and I knew that if I was to have the kind of labor I wanted, I would have to overcome it. I tried to give voice to my fear, but the only kind of responses I would get were, “Oh, you’ve been through this before. You know you can do it.” My husband told me I was an old pro. Despite everyone’s best intentions, none of these remarks were of any relief. In fact, on the contrary, they were the reason why I was apprehensive. I think that people mistakenly believe that labor gets easier each time around, which is definitely not the case. Labor is not something you grow accustomed to, or that eases up over time. Bringing a baby into the world is the hardest job a woman’s body will ever do, and that does not change with time or experience.

Now if anyone knows that fear has no place in the birth of a baby, it is me. Being that pregnancy and childbirth are two of my passions, I’ve done my research over the years and am well aware of the adverse effects of fear in a laboring woman. Fear causes pain, fear hampers the birth process; ultimately, fear is counterproductive. Every comfort measure taken in labor is to ensure that the woman feels safe and does not have any fear. Well, I guess I had a tired bag of tricks because this fear was not willing to budge, and my labor had not even yet begun.

Rachel’s due date was Monday March 1^st, but I knew that my body would not hold onto her for that long. I instinctively felt that she would follow suit of my last two babies and come 2-3 days early (again, interesting to note here the power of the mind.) On Thursday morning, I arose from bed and began having crampy Braxton-Hicks contractions. They were very minor, but noticeable nonetheless. I went about my usual routine, and they persisted. I took the kids to the park and out to ice-cream in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day. Later that evening I had a craving for pizza, so we brought home Round Table. The house was clean and everything was in place for the birth, so I felt that all I had to do was wait. I knew labor was imminent. I decided to give Forrest a call and tell him that he should start packing his bags and drive home from the bay area that night. I figured he might as well get a good night’s sleep and be home for the onset of labor opposed to rushing home in the middle of the night or the next day. He told me he’d see me in bed, so that is where I went.

It was about 1:00 a.m. when he came home and slipped into bed next to me. He whispered a quick goodnight and started to fall asleep. I, on the other hand, had my mind on anything but sleep. I had felt a cold coming on earlier in the day, and could now feel a burning tightness in my chest. Again, fear took hold of me. Who gets sick going into labor? I feared I would barely have the strength to muster for labor as it was, let alone while battling an illness. It couldn’t happen like this. Then, an indescribable sadness came over me at the thought of what could’ve been my last day with the kids before the business of life with a new baby took over. I think I had been bottling up so much in Forrest’s absence that when he finally came home, everything came flooding to the surface and I let it all out. I didn’t have to be brave anymore, and I didn’t have to do it alone. Forrest woke up when I started crying and asked what was wrong. “I just want one more day with the kids.” I told him. “I feel like all I do is keep them busy with chores and school work, and I just want them to know how much I love them.” His response was that I am a good mom, doing what needs to be done in order to keep the household running, and that I should not worry about things and try to get some sleep. Sounded fair enough, I thought.

The next morning (Friday) I woke up and went to the bathroom, and saw a good amount of blood-tinged show on the toilet paper. The only time I have experienced this with past pregnancies was when labor was good and active, so I was certain this was it. As I continued on with my morning, I noticed that I was having the same style of crampy Braxton-Hicks as the day before, however, they were nowhere near what I would constitute as active labor. Nonetheless, we decided to take the day easy and rest up for when labor decided to set in. I continued to tie up odds and ends around the house, while Forrest made up for lost time with the kids. I retired to the bedroom for an afternoon nap, and when I awoke Forrest brought me up some lunch. Overall, it was an easy going and enjoyable day. I was certain this would be “the” day. By the time night began to fall and I seemed to be no further along, restlessness kicked in. If I wasn’t going to be having a baby, I might as well get in the kitchen and cook dinner. Forrest went and got a couple of things from the store, and I made a big pot of our favorite soup, zuppa Toscana. It was delicious. Afterwards we put on a movie to watch with the kids, and eventually went to bed.

I awoke around 12:30 a.m. and started timing my contractions. While they were no more intense than they had been, they began to feel more regular. Sure enough, they were averaging 7 minutes apart. I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, and put on some comfy pants. Finally, at around 2:00 a.m., I woke Forrest. We came downstairs together, and I decided I wanted to listen to the Hypnobirthing c.d. I still felt like things were moving very slowly, and wanted to take the opportunity to rest. We both fell into kind of a half-sleep state, but my body was right at the point where I was not quite able to fall fully asleep. At 3:30 a.m. we decided to call the midwives, who arrived an hour later. They quietly let themselves in and began boiling water for the tea and herbs. I remained on the couch. Forrest helped them to carry the tub upstairs, but we decided not to fill it quite yet. Marlene came over to me and listened to the baby’s heartbeat, which sounded good and healthy. I told them I didn’t think things were moving along very quickly, but I wanted them there nonetheless. At about 5:30 a.m. I told Marlene I wanted her to check me. I remember thinking to myself, oh great, she’s going to see that I’m only at a 3 or 4 and they’re going to be upset that I called them here. We went upstairs and discovered that I was at a 7. In my mind I was certain that this was not accurate, and that she was only trying to give me encouragement. I know it sounds ridiculous now, but I really think my mind was trying to protect my body. I went back downstairs to Forrest, and we tried some maneuvers to get the contractions to be more intense and productive. He held my hands while I squatted to engage the baby’s head and increase the intensity, then I would lean over the couch and breathe through them. Still, this was nothing like the transition I knew. I was still waiting for active labor to start.

After a short while of this, I thought, what am I doing? I’d rather just go back to sleep. So, I laid on the couch and did just that. And apparently… so did everyone else in the house, including the midwives. Just about the time Forrest was spreading out his sleeping bag on the living room floor to fall asleep, I decided, “Wait a minute, I want to have a baby, and ya’ll aren’t going to sleep through it. Everyone up.” It was about 7:30 when I told Forrest I wanted to be checked again. I returned to the bedroom and discovered that I was still at about a 7. I thought to myself, who on earth stays at a 7 for 2 hours! Someone who has spent the last several months fearing transition, that’s who. My body was ready, but my mind wasn’t. It was me who was holding back. Marlene and Kaleem kindly suggested that we considering breaking the bag of waters, ensuring that baby would be here within 30 minutes after that. I needed some time to think about this, so I locked myself in the bathroom. I checked my cervix and found that yes, I was nearing completion. I could no longer be in denial. I knew the kids would be getting up soon, and I could either stay here all day and do it at night when I was tired, or do it now and have the rest of the day to be in bed with baby in arms. I had a few contractions on the toilet, and they were so easy. I just breathed right through them and thought, this is what I’ll do. I’ll just stay in here and not have to make the decision. However, my logical side kicked in and I knew what had to be done.

I came back into the bedroom and told Marlene I wanted her to break my water. Kaleem had already begun filling the tub. My membranes were ruptured at 8:55 a.m., and Forrest and I were left to labor alone. By this point all of the kids had woken up, and Kaitlyn was at the side of the tub giving me a kiss. I sent them all downstairs in preparation for what lie ahead of me. There was a calm for about 10-15 minutes, during which time I lay over the side of the tub with my head resting in my arms, and Forrest behind me. I knew we were in business now. The next contraction was what I had been fearing. It was a very familiar sensation, and it was intense. This was the kind of contraction it took to bring down baby, and I knew that, yet I was coping. After about 3 of these, I reclined back into Forrest’s arms in hopes that I would be able to begin pushing soon. It was that fast. Upon hearing my vocalization, Marlene and Kaleem returned to the room, along with the kids. I asked Marlene to check me again to see if I had made any progress. She reached into the water and said, “You’re complete. She’s right there. So close, in fact, that I’m going to leave my gloves on.” All the fears of the past 9 months had been realized in about 5 contractions.

With the next contraction I decided I wanted to try pushing, so I did for about half of the contraction. I could feel her head descending, and the sensation was so intense that I decided to let up and breathe her down. At one point I even began humming a tune. It was so intense, but I felt so in control. I knew I was surrendering, but it wasn’t the out-of-control surrender that I had imagined, or rather feared. It was what I knew my body was designed to do. On the break before the next contraction, I stated aloud, “Her head is coming out with this one.” I threw myself back in Forrest’s arms and yelled her out. I decided I had done this too many times to be inhibited, and it felt better to just let it out. I knew I was loud, and inwardly I was laughing, but the noises seemed to help get the job done. After her head emerged, I looked up and saw all four kids sitting at the foot of my bed. Kaitlyn was sitting in Ashlee’s lap, looking very concerned. Ashlee had tears streaming down her cheeks and a beaming grin, a sight I will never forget, and Jacob had gotten up and bolted out the door. Marlene told me to reach down and feel her little ear, which I did. Her head and hair were so soft. With the next contraction, I pushed the rest of her body out.

Noah ran out the door to retrieve Jacob, calling, “Jacob, she’s here! Come back!” I later learned that Jacob had gone in his room and fallen to the floor because he said he felt bad for me (in his words.) However, after the birth, it was all smiles. Marlene and I exchanged looks of relief, and I knew the job was done.

What I learned from this birth is that we grow stronger by facing our fears. I know that Heavenly Father blesses us with the strength we need to overcome, and He is always by our side. We have the strength within, we just have to go about our own way of finding it. I also learned that every woman’s birth is a personal journey. While Hypnobirthing is great, ultimately, I had to do whatever it took to bring my baby out. I cried, I sang, I moaned, I breathed her down and I yelled her out. Do what works for you. You will be a stronger person because of it.