Beautiful Birth Stories

Eleanor's Birth Story

2011-06-13T13:02:00.000+12:00

Pop on over to Erin's blog to read the beautiful story of the birth of her daughter Eleanor. Totally gorgeous, and lots of beautiful pics too!

Gordon's birth story

2011-06-06T21:10:00.003+12:00

Gordon Cedar Campanelli's homebirth story:

Amber started having rushes on Thursday night, April 21st 2011 at about 36 weeks gestation. They were very mild and not timeable, yet stronger than her usual Braxton-Hicks. They eased off a bit by Friday morning but regained strength around 11 am. At this point I called Amber to check on things and she informed me that we should pack up and start driving to New York, where we had made plans for a homebirth at my mom and Stan's home on Cayuga Lake. We had planned to leave on April 30th when Amber was 37 weeks along and I had arranged to telecommute to NIST until the baby arrived. We arrived in Ovid, NY after 6 hours on the road and countless jokes about where we could have the baby on the way. Soon after we arrived, we finally got in touch with our midwife, Monica, who informed us she was visiting her sister in DC for the Easter holiday! Had we known, we could have stayed in Gaithersburg and had her come to us. Fortunately, her wonderful backup midwife, Linda, was able to meet us Saturday morning. When Amber lost her mucus plug Saturday morning we were all relieved to be settling in at the lake house. Amber tried various tinctures to try to stop or slow labor to no avail. We decided to run some errands and pay a visit to our friends up the road at Cayuga Ridge Winery. As suggested by our midwives, Amber enjoyed a half of glass of red wine as a last ditch effort to slow the labor. We arrived back home around 2:30 pm, and decided that this would be a great time to do the plaster cast of Amber's belly. Ella played in the bathtub as I scrambled to put the plaster strips in all the right places in between Amber's rushes. By the end of this process, the rushes were strong and regularly spaced at 3 minutes. After cleaning up a bit, Amber decided it was time to call Linda and our photographer. The clock read 4:46 pm. Linda was happy to hear that Amber's water was still intact, because she was sure that the baby would be right behind when her waters broke... she was correct! Linda arrived at 5:06! pm while we were walking along Elm Beach Road with Ella now asleep in her stroller. Returning home, Linda and I set up the birthing area while Amber rocked through strengthening rushes on the birthing ball. At 5:30, Amber lay down to try to conserve her energy, thinking the labor could last some time. Ella woke up in her stroller 10 minutes later needing her momma, so she cuddled up next to Amber on the bed and promptly fell back to sleep in the middle of everything! About this time our photographer Hillary arrived, and Linda's birth assistant Denise a short time later. Linda suggested that Amber try to pee to relax her perineum. Now on the toilet, Amber finally felt the urge to push when her waters broke. At 6:29 pm, Linda suggested Amber move off the toilet so that the baby could be born into air, not water! Amber knelt on the floor next to the bed, with her arms and head resting on the bed. By this point I was behind Amber, placing constant pressure on her lower back to relieve some of her back labor, while my mom held her hand. From my vantage point, I was able to see the baby's head move further down the birth canal with each successive rush. Nine minutes after Amber moved to the kneeling position, I reached down to receive baby Gordon. His beautifully wrinkled and vernix-covered head came out with one rush, and his body followed immediately afterwards. As I moved him underneath Amber so that she could see him, I announced "It's a boy!", and Amber was already tearing her shirt off and reaching for the baby. We quickly moved into the bed just as Ella opened her sleepy eyes to welcome her new baby brother. Ella had fallen asleep before everyone had gathered in the room, and I had to calm her down for quite some time as Amber tended to Gordon. Six minutes later the placenta was birthed and stored in a freezer bag for placenta encapsulation for Amber to ingest postpartum. At 7:25 pm Gordon nursed for the first time. Gordon had a healthy pink complexion when I cut the cord well after the cord had stopped pulsating. Little Gordon will remain intact (we are opposed to genital mutilation). Finally, Gordon was weighed and measured:

Weight: 5 lbs., 7 oz.
Length: 17.5 inches
Head Circumference: 13 inches

Richie's birth story

2011-03-23T12:15:00.000+13:00

The beautiful Ash has just given birth to her second baby, and has written her story complete with some beautiful images. Head over to her blog Go Mumma and check out her birth story post. Richie is so sweet!

Thoughts from Cath

2010-09-06T20:03:00.000+12:00

UM, WHERE ARE MY ANKLES?
I woke up this morning feeling good. I really haven't been sleeping well lately, so I revel in the joys of a good night's sleep. I lie in bed, have a stretch, and slide onto the carpet with all the grace I can muster at 36 weeks pregnant. I brew my cup of tea and tomato on toast (still feeling great) and take great delight sharing it with my friends on the Sunrise breakfast program. My morning routine continues as usual as I make my way (well, maybe I waddle a bit) to the shower. Upon my undress, I notice all the usual bits I've become accustomed to during pregnancy – some wonderfully beautiful, others more grotesque, but as I bend over (and cut off my air supply whilst doing so) to remove my socks I get a monstrous shock at what stands before me. Gasp! Where are my ankles?

Where'd they go? Where are they? I poke at the skin that used to house the neat circular little bone, but all I get is fleshy, fluidy softness. Eek! This can't be right – for 36 weeks I've had a textbook, faultless pregnancy; no morning sickness, no bleeding, no heartburn, only the occasional back ache, some mild
dizziness once or twice but definitely no swelling. I tell myself that I surely must be imagining this misshapen anatomy. I sigh deeply; let me start again. Ok, here I go… hip, leg, leg, leg, knee (so far so good), leg, leg, leg, leg, foot! What? Arrghhh!

Right, what to do….? I resolve that my cankles and I are in this together and optimistically select the‘feet-above-heart’position for half an hour. Nope. Alright, all is not lost, what about the ‘cold-bucket-of-water’ solution? Nope (and holy crap, I do not recommend this unless it's an antidote for your legs actually being on fire). ‘Ah ha’ I exclaim in my light bulb moment; compression socks….! Nope. Nothing I do is making any difference to the tree trunks that have formed off my knee caps. It's now lunch time and my entire day so far has been consumed by my new obsession to rediscover my ankles. In a moment of panic I check my hands, almost expecting to see plump little manicured savaloys, but thankfully they've been spared.

Then, after half a day of panic, I stop for a moment of rare insight and perspective. It's not so bad, is it? I don't have the awful, retching heartburn that many women suffer, I didn't have any morning sickness, and it's not like my cankles are causing me discomfort or pain. Actually my normally cold feet feel as though they've taken a hiatus in the Bahamas. I shouldn't complain, really, because if this is the worst of my pregnancy disorders, I'm still escaping it quite easily. I opt for a pair of long pants and decide that as long as people don't point and shriek at my Elephantitis, then I can handle this. I'll wear my cankles as a badge of honour, in fact, I'll proudly commit myself to this pregnancy ailment – for the greater good, or something…

So, as I rest on the couch marveling at the new found empowerment of pregnancy martyrdom, I think about the billions of women who have gone before me and experienced extraordinary lows during their gestation periods. I tell myself that one day when I'm holding my baby, these cankles were a small – albeit hideous – price to pay for the joyful phenomenon of motherhood.

Now, how to get my shoes on…?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

DON’T LET ME GO OVER…!
Induced. It's just a word. It's not hard to pronounce or even difficult tounderstand, we all know what it means, and can even insert into sentences with varying contexts in varied conversation. But, no other word can ‘induce’the same horrors in the minds of mothers-to-be as that one little word. In. Duc. Ed. Shudder.

A friend of mine is, like me, pregnant with her first baby. She was due a week and half ago. She's irritable, uncomfortable, aching, over it, and most of all, just desperate to meet her little one (and probably get her body back, though she's not admitting to that). Her last check-up suggested that if she hasn't ‘gone’ by the end of the week she'll be induced [insert sharp intake of breath here].

For me, induction conjures images of days of frustration at home, heaving around a massive belly, with swollen face, hands and feet to match. I imagine being short-breathed, huffing and struggling to get up off the couch, wrestling with my own legs to get a pair of socks on, pointing my fat accusing finger
at the next person who suggests a bath, a walk, a curry, a dose of castor oil, or God forbid, a romp… I'll acquire glances of a pained mix of sympathy and dread from unknowing strangers, scare the poor dog with my thumping waddle on the back patio, and need help getting off the toilet seat. Then I'll arrive at the hospital, where, in my mind, a miniature doctor whom I've never met cowers beneath my enormous frame, and politely attempts to insert a probe resembling a crochet hook into my vagina ‘to get things started.’ I visualise an almighty gush as my waters emerge, knocking mini Doc off his feet at the end of the bed, and immediately being overcome with a contraction so intense I could operate a small power station. At this point, I grip my poor husband by the collar and scream like a wild banshee; “get me drugs!” From there, I endure 37 hours of agonising labour before my 11lb baby tears it's way out, leaving me with 43 stiches, haemorrhoids and a hoarse voice. Oh, but it was all worth it, of course…

Hmm, drama queen much?

Ok, so obviously not all labour inductions are like that, maybe none are like that, but, and some of you mothers reading this can probably take some accountability here; I didn't simply imagine that story. Somewhere, at some point, more than one lady has relived an experience, centred around how
hideous her labour and birth was. Why was it hideous? Not because, as you might suspect, she squeezed a 7lb baby out of a small hole, no, it was because she was induced. Because for her, it all happened too fast, or not fast enough, or she wasn't prepared, or it felt out of control, or, or, or…

What is it about our psyche that commits us to sharing these stories? Is it a subconscious need to feel connected? To attempt educate, or warn? Maybe we want to know that there are others worse than us, and are desperate for our story to ‘topped.’ No doubt for some of us it comes from a deep seeded
martyrdom fixation, and we’re probably not even aware that we're committing that most dreadful of sins – instilling fear in others. The lesson I urge here is; when recounting your story, invoke the waiver; “but of course, it's different for everyone.” Needless to say, this won’t end the panic that can surround this
most wonderful and frightening phenomenon, but it just might help us first timers put it into some greater perspective.

Having said that, I can still employ my rational mind (sometimes) and have no reason to believe it will be outrageously awful. I am visualising a serene, natural, relaxed labour and birth experience. I'm prepared that it might not go as hoped, and realise I may need to re-assess my birth plan at some stage. Just
please, please, don't let me go over…!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

NO, ACTUALLY, I'M NOT HAVING TWINS!
“Yes, yes, I'm sure there's just one baby in there!” I say with a polite, intentionally dismissive laugh. “Wow,” she exclaims, “are you sure? My cousin's neighbour's sister's best friend had twins, one was hiding behind the other the whole time.” She says it so matter-of-factly and it's clear she's in complete belief of such a bogus theory. “Ha ha, well, there's only one in here.” I'm impressed with the level of courtesy I'm maintaining here, but silently willing her to bugger off. “How long do you have to go then? A week?”“Um, no… [awkward pause] Six weeks actually.” Ooh, the iciness in that response completely demolishes any pride I had in my previously steady demeanour.
“Goodness me! Still six weeks of growing… You're quite big, aren't you?!”

What does she expect me to say to that? The vengeful pregnancy hormones are screaming; “Yes, actually youre' right, I'm huge. I'm an enormous cow, I'm a massive, overgrown elephant. In fact, I'm so gigantic that my poor, tiny little husband has had to retreat to the spare bed. But it's ok, I'm aware of my size and I'll try really hard not to bowl you over!” My dramatic side wants to feign horror and nervously whisper, “Am I? Am I really? I had no idea. Oh my God, what do you think I should do about it? Do you think I could die? Do think the baby will be able to come out? Am I going to need a ceasar? Do think I'll
be ok?” The remnants of my insecure, defensive sixteen year old self wants to blurt “Um, well I am growing a baby. I should look pregnant, shouldn't I? How did you look when you were pregnant? Were you smaller than me?” My nasty side is hurling insults back; “well, I'm pregnant, what's your excuse?!” But, the
normal, strong, capable, intelligent woman in me wants to explain “what you just said sort of hurts my feelings. You might not be aware of how what you say could affect a pregnant woman whose hormone charged mind is already starved of rational thinking. It's lovely that you're showing an interest in my
pregnancy, but it's not nice to hear that you think I'm big. Maybe use this rule of thumb; if it's not ok to say when she's not pregnant, it's not ok to say when she is.”

In all fairness to ‘her’, I do need to acknowledge that I did have my own tummy before the baby took up space, and I'm certainly not sporting a gorgeous basketball from my front. Mine's more generously spread like a luxuriously delicious marshmallow, soft and cuddly, and somewhere I'd want to sleep if I was a baby (yep, just keep telling yourself that!).

Worst thing is, I know I'm not alone here, and the ‘she’ I refer to is any number of probing strangers who have commented on a woman's size during her pregnancy (it might even be our own wonderful mothers in law!) It shocked me to realise, when I first fell pregnant that I'm now public property. People think it's ok to rub my stomach (I'm not a bloody Buddha for pete's sake!), talk about me like I'm not there (“she's dropped, hasn't she!”), make assumptions about me (“she's all out front, that's a girl…”) and, comment
on my size/weight/physicality (“geez, you're big!”). Boundaries ‘they’ would never have crossed if I wasn't obviously pregnant.

So, what is it about being pregnant that blurs those otherwise transparent social margins? And what happened to the old rule; ‘if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all’? Perhaps, all this time, I've only known the shortened version. Maybe it's really ‘if you don't have anything nice to
say, don't say anything at all, unless you're directing your insult at a pregnant woman – they don't mind!’ We know that most humans have a need to feel connected, part of a community. We also know that the limited skill sets of individuals we meet on the street should be nurtured, not condemned and that their seemingly innocent jabs of opinion are just their way of sharing their excitement, and feeling a part of it. But, in our own minds, there are lines that can be crossed and emotions that can be summoned from the deepest recesses of our psyche, and when we're already struggling against nature's gestational cocktail of crazy chemicals, we can burst into tears over the smallest, unassuming things.

Of course I don't loathe every minute of it, some of the attention is quite well placed and genuine and really makes me realise I'm doing something special. But, then there's the occasional intrusion that leaves me angry, upset and full of self doubt. Gasp. Sob. I'm not that big, am I?

My lesson for the day, one I've learnt and implore you to share with me; next time you cross a pregnant woman on the street, comment on your excitement for her and her journey to motherhood, tell her she's gorgeous, tell her she's doing a great job (unless perhaps she's drunk and smoking a joint), just don't
ask her if she's having bloody twins!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oh, the guilt!
Darling husband arrived home not a minute too soon; I was merely seconds away from sneaking out to the car and carefully backing away from the most challenging little baby on the planet; it had been a tough day. In fact, if I had enough clarity to distinguish one day from the next I'm sure I'd tell you it had been a tough week. That's another story though.

I hear his car pull into the driveway. Then I hear the door close. Then I hear the back gate open. Then I hear him pat the dog. The back door opens. The kettle is on. He's in the ensuite. The tap is on. Off. This leisurely little process seems to have taken a little over three hours so far, so I walk over the monitor in the nursery, and say, very politely, although possibly a bit like a whispering psycho; “if you can hear me, get in here now!” Another two hours and 37 minutes pass…

In waltzes darling husband, fresh from a day at work. I vaguely remember the days when ‘fresh from a day at work’ meant lugging my handbag through the door and throwing myself at the couch. Now though, that same term translates to ‘fresh from a day spent with adults, glorious adults; my favourite
kind of people.’

Anyway, Father of the Year bounds into the nursery with so much energy that I'm immediately insulted, he's earned himself an upgrade from ‘hard working husband’ to ‘patronising SOB.’ He calmly approaches my not quite showered self, and with a sickly sweet delivery says; “give me the baby, you go for a walk.” A seemingly supportive gesture, however when passed through my oestrogen filter it actually sounds like; “I'm a saint. You're fat. Go for a walk.”

I storm out of the house and what's this… silence? Can that be right? The little weetheart who disliked everything I did today is quietly cooing at Daddy, making a liar out of me. I can see him now, regretting his earlier sympathy for my desperate, tear filled phone call. He's no doubt wondering why his fat, hopeless wife complains so much, because evidently, ‘it's not that hard.’

Then, from my patio haven, and over that deafening silence comes a faint whisper that I hear all too often. If I concentrate, it sounds a bit like ‘bad mother’ and feels a bit like ‘guilt.’ Why is it that on the good days I feel like Mother of the Year, and on bad I feel that I'd have more success relocating to
Yemen and breeding endangered mountain goats (are there even mountains in Yemen?).

Patience is a strange beast; a difficult day can be hard enough, but for some reason, as soon as someone's there to share the load, difficult escalates to desperate and the incredible patience and endurance I've exhibited during the day quickly dissolves until I'm seconds away from resigning altogether.
It must be the marvelling phenomenon of having an audience who simply watches without participating. Or even clapping!

Anyhoo, I'm on the patio, listening to the silence of a sweet baby and besotted father. And then, my moment of triumph arrives. The wailing, howling, distraught infant returns, and in my irrational, psychopathic, hormone crazed head, I take delight in the evidence that; “HE CAN'T DO IT EITHER!”

Finally, from nowhere a completely unexpected, fresh wave of patience, love, infatuation and happiness settles over me and I'm immediately revived to go back in for round 73…

Better hide the car keys!

Molly's birth

2010-09-06T19:34:00.000+12:00

I got induced because I had Gestational Diabetes and Polyhydramnios (too much fluid around the baby)

Started induction on Tuesday 11th May at 8.30am. First lot of gel was put in and we had to wait 6 hours, then have a internal - was having v bad gel pains/cramps in this time, thought they must've been doing something. 2.30pm - internal done, nothing really had changed. Cervix was still posterior, 1cm long but was soft. This gel/internal crap kept going till Thursday Morn 7am when they decided OOOO we can finally break the waters. Cervix was only 2cm dilated.

After they broke my waters, i gushed for an hour (Sorry severe TMI) i used about 10 towels and they were all soaking wet. I had a lot of fluid!!!! once i had finished gushing and was only trickling, they took me to the delivery suite where they started me on the Syntocin Drip. 5ish mins later i started having contractions. MW turned up the drip then i started having very intense contractions - 5ish in 10 mins - couldn't handle them, they were soooo bad - we find out why they were so bad in a minute. I started gas. Got sooooo high, had next contraction and Molly's heart rate dropped. I didn't know wtf was going on and every time i had a contraction, her HR would drop to like 40. I had to keep taking the gas for the pain, but i couldn't understand what everyone was telling me LOL. At like 4pm ish they decided to do the emergency c-sect because she was so distressed and she was face presentation - her face was smashing into my pelvis every time i had a contraction, which is why it hurt so much.

C-sect went perfect, Molly was born at 4.47pm - weighed 6lb 4oz. Her face looked like she had been in the boxing ring with Mike Tyson because of all the banging into my bones. Poor little mite, even her tongue was bruised.

(She's perfect and beautiful and 6 months old now!)

Ezra's birth

2010-05-20T09:10:00.000+12:00

Easter weekend, I had loads of Braxton-Hicks contractions, so I was pleasantly surprised when I woke Tuesday morning, 4-14-09, to a different kind of contraction. Starting around 5 a.m. the contractions felt a bit more painful, lingering in the small of my back and across my entire belly, lasting for around 30-40 seconds and coming every 10-12 minutes. I went ahead and started getting the kids ready for school.
My husband called the midwife at 7 a.m. since the contractions were staying pretty regular. So the pressure was on. With him missing work and the midwife in the loop, I was determined to have a baby before the day's end. I sat on the birthing ball rocked my hips in circles and watched a movie. My husband got the birthing pool and supplies together and set the water heater up higher. We were going to need a lot of hot water.
Around 10 a.m., my sister and her boyfriend arrived to assist with the birth and take pictures. I began to get more vocal during my contractions, a low moan, and tried balling up my fists in the small of my back to help with the pressure. My husband started filling the pool at this time. The midwife called a few times, but always in between contractions, so she never heard how the contractions sounded through me. They were coming 8-9 minutes apart and lasting around 40 seconds. She kept telling me to let her know if they got to lasting 1 minute coming 5 minutes apart, so in my mind, that was my goal.
To get things moving, my husband and I went for a short walk. Then we all walked to my mom’s (a full 500 foot walk) to eat lunch. As she was cooking, Mom casually mentioned, “You know what today is, don't you? Today's your shower. We're having a surprise baby shower for you.” I laughed and said, “It figures! You guys get to wait a few hours.”
In the meantime, the contractions were about 7 minutes apart and still 45 seconds long, but seemed to grow in intensity. My mom knew from my moans that it wouldn't be too long before the baby was born. The midwife called again for an update and I reported that they were still not 5 minutes apart. We agreed that she'd wait a bit before coming out. The drive between us was about one and a half hours, but she didn't want to stall my labor by arriving too early.
My husband and I took another walk, taking pictures of the wisteria and dogwood in full bloom. We got some awesome photos, especially with the sun shining bright through the dogwood flowers, casting shadows over my pregnant belly. In between contractions, my husband sucked on my nipples to stimulate the contractions. That did the trick. Right after taking photos of the dogwood, I felt a pop and a little gush. I was sure that my water had broken. That was at 3:30 p.m. So as we started back to the house, I stopped for another contraction, looked down and found a very tiny four leaf clover.
When we got back, we called to make sure the midwife was on the way. She'd just left. I went to the bathroom, removed my underwear, then got into the birthing pool, skirt and sports bra still on. My contractions really picked up then. I was on my hands and knees in the water and my husband put his hand on the small of my back to push against the contractions. My sister's boyfriend timed the contractions while my sister took pictures. I wasn't completely aware of more than how fast the contractions seemed to pile one on top of each other. I simply knew that with each one, I could feel the baby come further and further down. I kept saying, “The midwife isn't going to make it. She isn't going to make it.” My husband just stuck with me, saying, “That's alright, we can do this.”
My main coping methods became my husband's hand on the small of my back and my face stuck in the water making motor boat bubbles and nearly drowning myself in the process. The kids came home from school and my youngest daughter declared that she wanted to get into the pool with me. I laughed and told her, “I really don't think you do, Sweetie.” My oldest girl took one look at me and headed out to the treehouse to stay out of the way.
At some point, I said,“I just want to drown.” My mom seemed to think that was transition talking and the baby was definitely almost out. She decided to go check on my nephews who'd also just gotten off the bus. So she stepped out for a bit.
Apparently, that was enough for her to miss it all. Soon enough, the baby decided to crown. I was in the middle of a contraction and my motor boat sound immediately went high pitched with the ring of fire. I struggled to bring it back down to a low moan and gasped, “Baby, Baby!” My husband lifted my skirt in time to see his face begin to emerge. I tried hard to simply relax and let the contractions do the work. He began to press against my back side and I was afraid, so I told him,“Don't push him back in!” He said he wasn't pushing him back, just trying to support him to keep me from tearing. With just a few contractions, the baby was out. My husband lifted him out of the water. It was 4:20 p.m. when Ezra Shea was born.
My sister got on the phone to check where the midwife was. She was still 40 minutes away. She informed her that I'd just had the baby. The midwife said, “You're kidding!” But then she heard the baby cry through the phone as my sister said,“Um, no, she's holding him in her arms.”
I could go on and on, because Ezra's birth was just the beginning. Lots of family arrived (even before the midwives). Everyone got to see the brand new baby. And we still had the baby shower!
No internal exams, no IVs, no tearing. And active labor was only one hour long. I didn't even push!
7 lbs. 12 oz., 20.5 inches long. I am in so much awe of him. Such a beautiful miracle. I'm so thrilled. It was the most beautiful day I could have dreamed of.

Unassisted birth story

2010-05-19T20:25:00.002+12:00

Here is a beautiful unassisted birth story that I was given permission to post today - it's lovely. How empowering!

Jericho's birth

2010-05-19T13:22:00.000+12:00

Here's a new birth story that Jericho's Mama has kindly shared with us - read it here.

Hi ladies

2010-05-18T13:31:00.000+12:00

Hi there,

Just thought I'd pop in and say hi to everyone who reads this. Does anyone else want to submit a story to be on the blog? Or know anyone who might? Any birth stories welcome no matter where or how you birthed, you still have a story to tell!

I've just rearranged the blog and changed the look. I am now also designing invitations, scrapbooking pages, birth announcements, posters, business logos, and blog headers / blog wear if anyone is interested.

Check out my blog here, or like my page on Facebook. If you mention you found me through this blog I will give you a $5 discount on any order!

Cheers,
Kate

Tom's birth

2010-04-22T10:38:00.000+12:00

My birth story.

Before my due date, I was NOT ready to think about labour. In fact, it wasn't something that I wanted to think too much or too long about until my MW Kathy made the ‘if you go over your due date’ plan which ultimately culminated in an induction and delivery that she wouldn't be able to attend because of a family wedding. This thought horrified me and I started hoping for the slightest sign that things were happening… and therefore preparing myself as best I could. I watched some labour/birthing DVDs, read what I could, but could not get my head around the fact that this would be soon something that I would be facing. I worried about how I would cope, and whether I would be able to ‘surrender’ myself to the experience in the way that the women in the DVDs had.

Two days after my due date, I thought maybe something was happening. I was cramping and suddenly couldn't cope with the idea of moving off the sofa. I didn't want a bar of the outside world. MW came around and checked me out, said it was early days but a start of things to come. I was quite excited! The pain got a bit worse in the evening, but I slept well and when I woke up, it had all stopped. I was disappointed, I felt like the boy who cried wolf, and was not consoled by the news that this was normal. It felt like nothing was going to happen now and I was in a cranky, irritable mood all day. I had some cramps again at bedtime but barely paid attention to them.

At 2am I woke with unusual and new pain in my hips, upper thighs and butt. I was vaguely aware that I was getting stronger pains but was unwilling to commit to them being possible contractions after the earlier disappointment. At around 3am something told me to get out of bed and rush to the toilet- I just made it before my waters broke. I was cautiously excited again, however my intense literature review of the preceding days had warned me that this was not a sign that the baby was going to pop out immediately or anything, so I settled back in bed and spent the next few hours timing contractions (I was prepared to call them contractions now) and bolting for the loo every time another dramatic gush of water appeared. Once it got to an hour that I thought it was safe to contact people without waking them, I texted Kathy and Darlene (birth support partner). Soon enough I had plans for a visit from Kathy and had spoken to Darlene, and said that there was no reason to rush up and that I was just going to stay quiet. Kathy came – there was less progress than I had thought there would be, but she gave me another stretch and sweep so I thought maybe things would happen faster. We made plans for me to go down to North Shore hospital for IV antibiotics that night. I spent the day quietly pottering around. I wasn't worried about the fact that I was going to the hospital – I assumed that things would stay slow and the plan to birth at Warkworth Birthing Centre would go ahead. Contractions were 5 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute each – it had gotten to the point where I couldn't talk during them, but a bit of quiet breathing got me through it. Comments that it was going to get ‘more intense’ were difficult for me to grasp as the discomfort had become ‘pain’ and I didn't have a frame of reference. Soon, it was time to go down to the hospital. I was to take my bag, ‘just in case’. I was relaxed, prepared that perhaps I'd be sent home again, but at least confident that something was going to happen that weekend, at least, and it wasn't going to get to induction stage.

In the car park at the hospital, Darlene drove over a speed bump and kicked the contractions into a bit more intensity – not so intense that we couldn't laugh about it though! Once up in the birthing unit it was great to see Kathy's calm face and efficient demeanour – the small spike of nerves I had walking into the unit calmed again. Another stretch and sweep – I was starting to think I had offended karma in some way – the insertion of the hated lure and what seemed to me a truck load of injections, and I was given the news that I was staying overnight for more antibiotics. Once again, I envisaged a night's sleep then maybe trucking up to Warkworth the following day, especially when Kathy gave me a pethidine injection for me to sleep. Before long, I was alone in quite a sterile, isolated room in the unit. I felt a little scared but soon enough the drugs calmed me, but did not seem to dull the pain of the contractions. My thoughts weren't coherent enough to realise that the contractions were getting stronger, even when I had to get out of the bed shortly after and pace around. Finally, I pressed the button for the nurse. Someone arrived very fast, I just told her that the pain was getting worse and was surprised when her response was “oh you could be in active labour now lets have a look”. This hadn't occurred to me! She checked me out, I was apparently 5cm dilated and she wandered off to call Kathy and arrange a birthing suite for me. I was taken into the birthing suite and left alone again – someone may have popped in to check on me before Kathy and Darlene got back but I don't remember. All I remember is leaning up against the door frame and trying to remember the advice about breathing and going inside myself that Kathy had told me that had been more difficult to imagine applying. Baby was clearly still posterior as I felt each contraction as searing, grinding pain in my lower back. I had been reading about what to expect with a posterior baby so the back pain wasn't a surprise to me, but how quickly it ramped up into a total inability to talk did take me by surprise.

I remember that Darlene was instantly amazing and seemed to know just what I needed – hot flannels on my lower back, sips of water… and it didn't take long before I felt comfortable doing, saying or groaning whatever I felt I needed to. I was kneeling up on a big comfy lazy boy chair, hanging over the back. I know that Kathy arrived. A few hours passed, all I remember is staring at the wall and breathing as deeply as I could. I remember that pushing the breath out as hard as I could felt good, and I remember that taking each breath in took strength and resolve each time. I remember working out that once a contraction started that a ten slow breath repetitions would usually count through the contraction. I remember how good that felt when I got down to ‘four more’, and how much of a mountain to climb each countdown felt at the start. I remember the seemingly impossible moments when all I could think was “I can't do this, I can't cope”… but then thinking at the same time that I WAS doing it and I WAS coping. It was a strangely ‘timeless’ process for me, I wasn't thinking about it being over, or ‘how much longer’ or anything like that, it was 100% being in the moment and tapping into whatever I could find to get me through it. Darlene and Kathy were perfect in this time, encouraging me without distracting me and literally holding me up when I needed it.

It was getting harder to battle gravity, so when Kathy said I could get in the pool after she had done an exam I was relieved. That examination was something I found extremely difficult – it was so painful, and I was also starting to feel quite panicked about the pain and how when I was up on the bed I couldn't do anything to control it. I remember sobbing from the pain and emotion at that point and gripping Darlene's hand for dear life and really not making Kathy's job very easy at all…and then what a change in atmosphere when we went into the pool room. It was warm and quiet and the water seemed to both caress and hold me up. In the respite between contractions it was relaxing to look up at the little twinkling stars they had there. It was very peaceful, the lighting was dim and warm. Hearing Kathy say “good breathing” reminded me to KEEP breathing like that. I never thought it would take so much focus and determination to do something as simple as breathe!!!

When things were starting to feel really overwhelming, Kathy quietly told me that I was starting to enter the transition phase and this was going to be the hardest part. Yep, it was! The words ‘searing’ and ‘unrelenting’ spring to mind at this point… I wanted to say “I can't do this anymore” but I couldn't get the words out – not that it would have made a difference!

I clearly remember Kathy saying “You look beautiful…the goddess”. This was such a strengthening, profound thing for her to say to me at that point… it tapped into all my ‘mists of avalon’ tendencies and boosted my emotional stamina at a point where I really needed for that to happen.

The break came – I felt a slow energy washing over me, I remember holding onto the edge and leaning backwards. The lack of pain for that short time was something to savour and I remember thinking that I should never take for granted lack of pain again! The contractions that soon started up again bought me back to earth with a thud – well, actually, it sent me shooting upwards, away from gravity and from the feeling that the baby was pushing DOWN. It was at this point that Kathy was finding it difficult to pick up the baby's heart rate anymore so I had to get out of the pool so that she could get a good reading. Once back in the birthing room everything gets a bit hazy…suddenly everything hurt like hell again and lying on the bed was agony…Kathy telling me that after all that, I was only 6cm dilated and she was pretty sure he was still posterior… I was so deflated and disappointed and scared…more people in the room, holding Darlene's hand and sobbing that I couldn't do it anymore – sobbing because I knew how futile those words were! Kathy, I think, leaned over and kissed my forehead and consoled me…being told that it was the best idea for me to have an epidural so that I could have a break – relief, but disappointment that I hadn't been able to do it. A scalp electrode, more people in the room…I was trying to calm myself by listening to the beep of the baby’s heart rate – I remember the beeping slowing or stopping or something and Darlene looking worriedly at the screen… more people and just concentrating on breathing in the oxygen mask…getting the epidural and feeling that lovely cold sensation… then just letting myself check out…

When I woke, I don't know how long later, the room was calm again. The day passed calmly and restfully – well, for me at least. Later in the afternoon the news came that it looked like he was turning (finally) and that I was dilating as I should. Everyone was so pleased – I was just scared! My calm peaceful day wasn’t going to stay that way and I didn't know what to expect. It was one thing to comprehend pushing that baby out when you are in the ‘labour zone’… it was quite another to have a day of dozing in a bed and then think about firing up that energy and drive again.

The obstetrician had come in and told Kathy when I needed to start pushing, and Kathy explained to me what was going to happen.When Kathy and Darlene stood on either side of me, and grabbed my numb legs and got them against their hips and Kathy explained how and where to push, it seemed ridiculously impossible. I could feel the contractions in a section of my stomach that had been letting the pain through for the past hour or so – not unbearable however and at least let me know what was going on. I was really struggling with pushing hard enough, and with getting my lungs full enough to feel that I could actually do a good hard push. In some ways it was harder than the labour – it wasn't painful, I just felt so frustrated that I couldn't do what I needed to do. As the room started filling with people after about half an hour of pushing, the obstetrician took a sample of his scalp to see how he was coping, when she came back she said that we had ten minutes to get him out otherwise I would have to have an emergency c-section. She said she was going to use a ventouse to assist me – I had no idea what this was but I was more than slightly panicked regardless. Once they started setting up these leg stirrup things and taking the bed apart and wheeling in a large machine, I was even more scared and worried. Kathy must have noticed, she put her hand on me and told me not to be scared, that it was the right decision. Darlene was by my side holding my hand and I think I was gripping it pretty tight! I still didn't know what to expect and was thanking God for the epidural as the obstetrician fiddling around getting this contraption inside me. It is all a bit of a blur – I could feel him being pulled and I pushed as hard as I could… vaguely aware of the cries of encouragement from everyone and then Darlene said that his head had been born! I was asked if I wanted to put my hand down and feel it, but I was in shock and didn't want to break my concentration until he was really out. One more push and I felt his whole body slither out and sense of elated energy filled the room with exclamations and a bustle of activity. I couldn't believe it, I didn't know what I was feeling. I know they put him up on my chest for a moment, then had to take him to check him over, I know that my eyes filled with tears but I was still too overwhelmed and shocked to even know what I was feeling. As they checked him out and I heard him cry and wail, and then as he was placed back on my chest I felt more confused and panicked and happy than I have ever been in my life. I felt inadequate and responsible and more than a little sorry for this tiny squirming little creature who was going to depend on me for everything. I remember taking a deep breath, and looked at my little baby, Tom, in amazement.

Amazing elephant birth

2009-10-07T22:27:00.000+13:00

This was totally incredible to watch. WARNING - is quite graphic! So amazing to watch & fascinating. Incredible to see such powerful instincts at work!
(Plus, elephants are my favourite animals, especially babies!).

Eliana's birth

2009-07-26T20:24:00.001+12:00

Eliana's Birth Story- a Christian Perspective

Some women know exactly what time their labor began. At the beginning of Dustri’s labor, I knew: 11:30 a.m. This one was different. I had been having uncomfortable contractions for weeks and other pre-labor signs, but nothing that said labor was really imminent. On Thursday, May 7, two days before our sweet Eliana breathed her first breath, my contraction patterns shifted. It is hard to explain because it was so gradual and so subtle. I found myself at the park with Dustri and my mom, climbing downright awkwardly up and down slides with Dustri and doing side lunges with the help of the picnic tables. I had a sense as if this baby was trying to work its head into my pelvis, much like a key fits a lock. Later that day, the low aching that I had felt in my back for the last few months ebbed away and I wondered if my baby had finally turned to the preferred anterior position. Contractions continued slowly and irregularly throughout the evening and woke me a few times on Thursday night.

On Friday, I had an appointment with my midwife, Candie, and debated whether I should finally get checked for dilation. Besides, I thought my fore waters may have ruptured so I decided it was worth the quick procedure. No PROM, but I was 3 cm. dilated and 50% effaced with the baby at -1 station. What did this tell us? Not much, except that my body had done a fair amount of work and I could get into active labor at any time…or I could wait a little while too. I was satisfied to hear that the images of the lock-in-key imagery I had been having all of yesterday were true. I was informed the baby was “lined up and ready for take off.” Thank goodness, I had prayed that I would not have to labor with a posterior baby. Candie reminded me again that she had family affairs to attend throughout the day and throughout Saturday afternoon. “If you have the baby from about midnight to noon or so, I can be there, but if not, the doctor on-call will be there,” she said. Well, I wasn’t sure whether this baby would born that soon, but I decided to keep it in mind and said a prayer since I really wanted Candie at the birth.

On the way home from the appointment, I had several more contractions and I continued to have contractions somewhat regularly throughout the rest of the day. I don’t really remember the day all that well. My mom and I took Dustri and drove around Paducah. I also remember that prime rib sounded absolutely delicious, but by the time we got to Outback it was seven in the evening with an hour and a half wait time (that’s what you get on a Friday night), so we went home and ate pizza instead. At some point my contractions picked up in intensity and I began to question if tonight might be the night. I lay down in bed to rest and my mom came in to massage my back and to keep me company. This set the mood of active labor off to such a wonderful beginning. My mother, knowing me so well, knew exactly how to massage me, which I find to be an immense comfort anytime, but especially during labor. I was also able to discuss more fully my desires to have a God-centered birth along with numerous fears and thoughts. We began praying and speaking to each other through Bible verses and through prayer to God, which I found to be so relaxing. I was able to be vulnerable with the one being who knew me best and had the most power over this labor: God. And my mother, who was my physical support, was able to hear my vulnerability and thereby know better how to help me during labor. This served us very well throughout labor and allowed me to cast aside tension and fear and to relax into the arms of my Maker while mom became a companion of spiritual, emotional, and physical encouragement.

After a while, mom went off to bed and I kneeled rocking on my birth ball. Between eleven p.m. and midnight active labor was really kicking in, although I was having a hard time accepting it. I called Kirstin at around 12:30, since mom had gone to sleep (she knew better than I that it would be a long night). Since Kirstin is my sister and a fellow birth doula, I figured she might be able to help me make some decisions: “Do I call Carrie to come watch Dustri?” “Am I really in labor?” After all, the last thing I seem to like to do is jump the gun and get too excited too quickly. Kirstin assured me that from the sounds of my voice, my breathing patterns and my pauses for contractions that I should probably stop denying the fact that labor had begun, accept it, and get Carrie to watch Dustri so I would stop worrying about childcare. Well, it took me another hour or so to decide she was right, but I finally called Carrie and she came over to watch Dustri.

After Carrie came over, I became calmer, as if my mind said, “Ok, your daughter will be fine; you can focus on the labor now.” I felt so blessed to have Carrie watching Dustri at our house, especially considering how short noticed our childcare arrangements were. Her presence was so calm and enlivening; I found myself wishing that she could be at the birth too. I had begun referring back to the prayer and bible verse portions of Christ Centered Childbirth, a book I had not read since pregnant with Dustri, but has now become my favorite book on the subject of childbirth. Carrie was interested in it as she was pregnant with her third and we began to discuss spiritual issues. I told her my frustration at “losing” my Clarksville home church and not feeling very comfortable in a large institutionalized church setting. She then went on to inform me that she went to a small church that had, at its heart a family-center and house church history. At that moment, I knew that if for no other reason God had allowed Carrie to come over to our house and watch Dustri so that we would have that discussion. One of many answers to prayers.

As I transitioned closer to going to the hospital, I found myself in some ways mourning the loss of a homebirth. What an annoying decision to make! “When should I leave; when do I upset my patterns of labor (mentally and probably physically), leave my comfy nest, get into the car, and drive to another location where I am not nearly as familiar and probably not as comfortable?” I found myself wishing I didn’t have to make that decision, but thanks be to God, bitterness did not enter my heart at my homebirth loss—just a little frustration. I was able to maintain a good mood, even a chatty happy mood while I rocked on the birth ball and mom prayed over me and rubbed my back during contractions and I talked with her and Carrie between contractions. It was so cozy: It was night, there were people close by who supported me and cared for me—I thank God for those moments.

I was surprised to find that my contractions were coming every three to four minutes lasting for at least 60 seconds. What! It can’t be time to leave yet, can it? Knowing my previous labor history, I couldn’t depend upon all the emotional signposts like the phrase “Don’t leave for the hospital unless you cannot smile for a camera” to help guide my departure for the birthplace. Historically, I had been a very polite birther. But, with the hospital a half hour from our house, I figured I did not want to wait until it looked like transition was upon us, or like I had (quite by accident) done for Dustri: waited for the slight urge to push. Besides, unlike Dustri’s birth, I trusted this birth place. I trusted the providers and the nurses to respect my wishes and did not fear the unnecessary use of intervention because of such subjective things as a hurried provider or a lack of trust in the birth process. So, although I would rather have stayed home, I decided the anxieties caused by waiting to go the birth place outweighed the benefits of staying home and I woke Richie to tell him it was time to go. By the time the bags and pillows were in the car and we were ready to go, I was mentally ready too and was eager to move on to the next phase.

The drive to the hospital was uneventful and I found that my contractions lessened and were fairly easy to cope with. When we arrived at the entrance, I hesitated. I prayed out loud expressing my fears of hospital policy, my mistrust of the iatrogenic-based birthing system, and asked God to make my way smooth. I prayed out loud much as I had earlier in labor with mom: to express my vulnerability to the one I could trust most, to verbalize my fears as they seem easier to let go of if you speak them away, and also to let those who would be integral in giving me support know what my fears were so that we would all be on the same page.

I entered the hospital tentatively yet excitedly. It was quiet as it was around 3:45in the morning. I was glad to go in my bathrobe without having to think about other people like I would have if it was during business hours. I liked the calm of walking in and, of course, they obviously knew I was in labor because who else walks into a birthing unit in their bathrobe? From the beginning, the nurses were gentle and unassuming and I found myself knowing that God had answered another prayer. I would feel uninhibited and would be able to labor and birth as my body dictated without worrying about people’s stares or opinions.

The nurses did a wonderful job of respecting my birth plan and keeping me informed about procedures. I felt like a birthing woman not a patient, which is something I had greatly desired. Like during the car ride, my contractions had lessened in intensity, and it was not uncomfortable to get my blood drawn and not that uncomfortable to be semi-reclined in bed while we did an initial monitoring of the baby’s heart rate and my contractions. I was glad when they told me that everything looked fine and that I could move around again. I was checked and found to be a soft 6 cm. 90% effaced. This was another answer to prayer because I had had it my mind that I really may not be inclined to stay if I was less than 6 cm. I am glad God made it apparent that I was making progress so I was content to settle in at the hospital.

I was informed that Candie would be unable to make it until around 6 or 7 in the morning since she had slipped and severely hurt her foot a few hours previously and was on some strong pain medications. At this point, I almost laughed because I thought “Well, God, you are definitely making me lean on you. My initial homebirth midwife died, I got sick and couldn’t do a homebirth, I’m giving birth on the four days that Jenna is not able to be here, you know I would rather not have a back-up doc catching my baby or making decisions about my care and here I show up during the 10-12 hour window that Candie is available to be my midwife and now she is not available for another 3 hours. Your will be done because it doesn’t matter; you are in charge, God.”

So, I labored for another 5 hours. I had asked for the hot tub to be filled, but knew in the back of my mind that I probably wouldn’t get in it since I couldn’t give birth in it. “What’s the point of being nearly fully dilated and getting in only having to get out to push, maybe before I am even really comfortable in the water,” I thought. (I’ve never labored in water before.) Sure enough, I was 8 cm. dilated and fully effaced when the tub was filled and as I was doing well coping with my contractions as a land lubber, I opted to stay out of the tub. Looking back it surprised me about some of the things I was not comfortable with. I had planned on using the tub, yet didn’t feel like it. I had planned on using the video camera, but nah; it was not worth the hassle. Oh well, maybe next time.

It may seem strange to some, but I really enjoyed my labor. My memories are filled with moments of laughter and giggles, of stupid little jokes, and of funny actions. Ina May is right when she says that birthing mothers do best when they allow for some lightness and humor. At least it worked for me. Three occasions rise up distinctly in my mind. One was when mom and I had wandered into the community snack area to find some water. Of course, I had several contractions during the process. Another woman, who was visiting a new mom, came in while I was having a contraction. I was leaning on the counter and mom had me in a full embrace from behind while we swayed back and forth together. Even in a hospital birthing center, this is a strange sight to see, I suppose, and the woman backed out quickly muttering apologies and looking quite embarrassed at walking in on us in such an apparently intimate moment. I didn’t mind as I was the one who chosen to venture into public areas. Somehow it seemed very funny and my mom and I busted up laughing. For me, my stomach was so large that it turned into a true belly laugh which made me laugh harder…which kind of hurt when another contraction came on, but the laughter definitely seemed to take the edge off. Another time, Richie, mom, and I were standing around listening to a cd I had recently picked up called Spirit Flutes. I had never listened to the whole thing before and there were portions in there of wolves howling, which I found very amusing (this after many hours of no sleep, mind you). So, I decided since mooing and low vocals worked to open the cervix maybe howling would too. So I stood there howling through several contractions and between just to help my spirits. Apparently, it lifted everyone’s spirits including the nurses who could hear me at the nurse’s station across the hallway. As birth got closer, the nurses came in. As I finished a contraction, I looked up and sardonically said, “I can’t believe my baby is going to be born to Spirit Flutes,” which apparently was very funny coming from a laboring mom because they both cracked up laughing. It made me feel good to know that I was historically in the most intense parts of labor and was still making people laugh. There again an answer to prayer: God allowed me to “soar on wings like eagles; to run and not grow weary.”

I spent a lot of time on the “birth throne,” the toilet. I would sit backwards and relax into the contractions while my mother or Richie would rub my back or pray and speak to me. I found many sayings like “good job,” “wonderful,” “you’re doing great,” or “relax your shoulders” annoying. I much preferred prayers and Bible verses than such seemingly powerless phrases like “good.” I don’t necessarily find anything wrong with the other phrases and have used them myself, but in my situation God’s presence was so there that it just didn’t feel connected or in tune with the “vibes” in the room to use to such secular or material phrasings.

Well, without much willful effort I hung on and at around 7 a.m., Candie came hobbling into the room and found that I was nearly dilated with only a small anterior lip that I could push through. Then I had the best feeling vomit of my life and new for sure that I just had to be dilated for sure. Ok, I could have my baby now. Or so I thought. It would be another two hours before birth actually occurred. As with Dustri’s labor, my contractions lost a lot of tangible intensity and the urge to push was fleeting (or fleeing). I walked around and semi-squatted during contractions, doing what felt good and might bring baby farther into the pelvis so that I would get an urge to push. I remember Ronii, my old homebirth midwife, telling me that women with ample birthing hips needed a lot of gravity and many did not feel an urge to push until the baby was at a very low station. I guess this may just be the way my body labors—slowly and not too intensely.

I did have several fears that were not addressed. For starters, I had not really bonded with this baby before birth and until I felt the baby’s head with my hand, I really don’t think I even fully accepted and realized that there was a baby in there to push out. The pushing stage has been unknown to me as I did not get an urge to push with Dustri either and had been given direction in prolonged pushing during 2nd stage. This was in sharp contrast to the enjoyable 1st stage where I felt very confident in relaxing, in having patience and letting my body work. 2nd stage during both labors was much more intense for me and I have preferred the work of 1st stage labor to 2nd stage.

And so we waited. Being my second child, the nurses and Candie stayed right beside me and I felt as if everyone was waiting for me to do something. I felt like an actor on stage that had forgotten his lines. Where was the urge to push? As I rested on Richie, he finally told me that it was time. “Let the baby out,” he said. I think he knew better than anyone that in many ways that’s what I was holding onto the baby because of my uncertainties of second stage and of being a mom for the second time. I still wonder how much of the delays in second stage are physiology and how much are psychology. Whereas after Dustri’s birth, I bitterly attributed much of it to psychology and birth environment, I now feel inclined to think that, yes, my anatomy and physiology is also a significant variable in my second stage behavior.

Candie suggested that Richie support me on the birth ball while I squatted during pushing. There she was with a potentially broken foot tailor sitting on the floor with her gleaming instruments off to her side. I was very glad to have a chance to squat, on the floor no less, but found that it was not very comfortable and chose to move up to the bed where I could try to feel where to push instead of thinking of which position I was pushing in. At this point, the intensity of the baby’s head was mounting, but Candie helped guide my hand so I could feel the baby’s head at a +2 station. It didn’t feel like I thought it would. It felt like a membrane not a head; it felt gelatinous, not like bone (apparently, this was the caput I was feeling). But it did give me some bearing on where to push. Unlike with Dustri, I was not hooked up to the external fetal monitor (EFM) so only I knew when my contractions were coming. They had checked me with doptone intermittently throughout this labor and while they kept a close eye on the baby’s heart rate they did not strap me to EFM. Only then, as Eliana was moving down the birth canal, did I wish to have someone tell me when my contractions were so I could push with my body. I felt so much so intensely, but I did not feel the pressure of contractions, other than a small feeling about every 6 or so minutes that I thought might be telling me to do something different. And so, I would breathe and then push for a few seconds and breathe and push again as I felt comfortable. I was appreciative that everyone was giving me every effort to be autonomous in my birth, but I still felt slightly overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations as well my lack of instinctively knowing how to deal with them.

And so our baby came closer to the outside world and finally the baby was crowning. My hands were placed firmly at my side for support (too much tension, I know), but Candie insisted I feel my child’s head as it was coming out. I didn’t want to, but looking back it made a huge difference in my perceptions and possibly my actions during this last portion of the birth process. I don’t know how long it took, but I finally knew my child. There she was, her hair was there and she was a real head, not a penny of squishy fluid. The intensity was really beyond words and I kept praying to God in my mind that this baby would keep coming and not stay there for several minutes while another contraction took effect. But God was gracious and gave me what I had missed during the second stage: Instinctual movements that brought my baby into this world. With my hand firmly placed on her head, I grunted gently yet earnestly through the ring of fire as I felt her move closer and closer to her first breath, her first views of this world. Looking back, I chuckle because in my birth plan I had quoted Leboyer about birth as ephemeral event and one that demanded quietness. Well, I birthed that baby with a loud yell, one that dropped Richie’s blood pressure and I’m sure everyone down the hall heard as well. Little did Richie know that that yell was not one of sorrow or even pain, but of triumph and of relief—for our little baby’s head was out. Even as I echoed my inward relief, I heard Candie say that the baby was trying to breathe and that there were two tight loops around her neck so not to push. This wasn’t that hard to do as most all the pressure was off and I just raised my neck and panted until she eventually cut the cord and then her shoulders slipped through. Now she was truly here. It was for her a quiet entrance. Dustri had come in crying and Eliana made nary a peep. She was taken to the warmer a few feet from where I was as she was rather limp but I felt she was fine. In fact, although none of us had seen, I knew “it” was a she. All through labor, this child had been a he, but as I birthed her my language turned from he to she. My connection had been made. I knew this child…and I loved her. Another answer to prayer.

Natalie's birth

2009-06-21T09:18:00.003+12:00

My name is Heather Brownlee, and here is my birth story.
Natalie Kay was born on May 18, 2009. We live in Tonasket, WA.

I thought I'd start by sharing the story of Natalie's arrival.

We decided pretty early on that we wanted a home birth. There are several reasons, but to sum it up: we didn't want any unnecessary interventions and I wanted to be comfortable and in control. I'm not a big fan of doctors and modern medicine, except when needed. Around Christmas, I found my midwife, Laurel, after asking around. I appreciated all of the knowledge she shared at each appointment and her gentle nature. Towards the end of the pregnancy, my blood pressure started creeping up and my feet and legs started to swell. I had to be on modified bed rest starting at 37 weeks. It was time for me to focus on the baby.

I had a few "false starts" and even though I enjoyed pregnancy, by 40 weeks I was ready to meet the baby (who wasn't?). At my appointment, Laurel stripped my membranes and gave me a tincture and some other ideas to try to get things going (after giving her fair warning, of course). We waited until the next day to try the tincture. Oh, let me not forget, Lucas must have known something was going to happen because before we had even discussed trying to get labor started, he insisted on sleeping until noon. I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 8 am. So at 12:30 I started the tincture, which gave me some stronger contractions, but nothing significant. Later that afternoon, my vision was messed up, and I couldn't think straight. My blood pressure had jumped up. Laurel said to get in the tub with epsom salts and relax. She also warned us that if we got another high reading, I'd be diagnosed with preeclampsia. Not good!

Luckily, my BP went down and we just hung out and watched some movies. Around 9 that evening the contractions started getting strong and were about 5 minutes apart, so after about an hour we called Laurel and let her know. She told me to call in a few hours and update her on the progress, and not to call if I was able to go to sleep. I had to tell Lucas to call her back after only about an hour, as the contractions were only two minutes apart, and some where back to back. She told Lucas to get me in the tub and she'd be here shortly.

And so it began. When Laurel got here, I was in the tub, enjoying how it was helping with the pain. She observed me for a while, timed my contractions and decided after a litte bit that she'd call her assistant. I was already becoming so focused on my labor that I wasn't very talkative or aware of anything or anyone around me. The contractions were back to back with a little break (about two minutes) in between each one. Lucas tried turning on some music (I thought it would help-I love listening to music) but that didn't last long. I also had the illusion that I would be nice and quiet during labor, after watching birthing videos, some women were so vocal, I just didn't think I would be. That thought flew out the window too. As time went by, I quit being quiet. I remember one thing I said was "Owww!" and Laurel said, "Just add a T to that." After I thought about it, and thinking "yeah, that makes sense," I started saying "OUT" instead. The hours went by, I was unaware of times, but I know I remember certain things. One is that I absolutely hated laying on the bed. I loved the water, it helped so much with the back pain. Lucas wasn't allowed out of my sight (okay, maybe twice). I leaned on him, listened to his instructions, had him hold my barf pail, held his hand, and I even beat him up a little (he didn't deserve it at the time). I remember throwing up several times, which bummed me out because I couldn't hold any fluids down and was getting dehydrated. I remember Lucas telling me when the sun was starting to come up, and we all listened to the birds as they started singing. I know Laurel checked me at one point and I was at 5 cm. I think it was around 3 or 4 in the morning. Progress! Every time she checked my blood pressure we were amazed it was staying at a good level, and the baby was doing great. More contractions, more breathing, and I know at some point I called myself a wimp, and Laurel and Lainy (her assistant) totally disagreed with me. They both were so great at encouraging me and I know everyone took turns putting pressure on my back and hips to relieve the back labor. Lainy gave me sips of water through a straw as well as spoonfuls of honey for energy. I remember after Laurel checked me again, after hours had passed, I think it was afternoon, I was at 9 cm. I worked through more contractions and took "naps" in between contractions - two minutes at a time. At some point after that, I was back in the tub, and I couldn't help but cry. Yes, I cried, and it felt good. I also said "I can't," which is a phrase I don't allow myself to say otherwise. I started to feel pressure, and I didn't like the way it felt. This is when I ended up beating on Lucas, and I know I was not nice. In reading all those birth stories, I was lead to believe this would be a great feeling, but it wasn't. Laurel wanted to check me again, and it took a while for them to get me to move. After Laurel made it possible for me to push, I gave it a try in the squatting position. I was horrible at pushing. I made several attempts, and even when Laurel told me I was doing it right, I wasn't able to do it long enough. I was so tired and hot and thirsty. Thank goodness Laurel had instructed Lainy to make me some concentrated lemonade out of fresh-squeezed lemon juice, salt, and sugar. I wasn't even able to recognize how close we were getting to having the baby. I must have said something like "I give up" because I remember Laurel saying "okay, Lainy and I will pack up and go home," and it helped me realize this was it. The point of no return and the end of the road. I realized I could see light at the end of the tunnel. She gave me oxygen because I was getting a little light-headed at the end of pushing, and this was partially why I wasn't holding it long enough. Once I started really pushing, I could feel my body take over and I got back in the tub on my hands and knees. It wasn't very long before she told me to reach down and feel the head. Wow, it's there! I was still in some other place, focused on this task, but it was only a matter of minutes and her head was born. I thought her body would slide out after that, but apparently her shoulders were wider, so Laurel had to work her out. And then she was here! It was 2:38 p.m.

I turned around and Lucas was holding her. He looked to see if she was a boy or girl, then I got to hold her. I could feel myself starting to "wake up." We moved to the bedroom and Natalie started nursing. Still, the placenta wouldn't come out. After a while, Laurel told me we needed to focus on getting it out. She had a serious tone in her voice. I handed Natalie to Lainy and I got out of bed. In a matter of moments I was dizzy. It's all a blur, but I remember Laurel saying "you're not going to like this, but we have to go to the hospital." She called the ambulance. Apparently some numb-skull answered. After Laurel went back and forth with them for a minute, she said, "Nevermind, we're just going to drive." Fine with me, we're only a few blocks away. She gave me a shot of pitocin and Lucas swept me up in his arms. He carried me down the stairs and into the car. I talked to him the whole way, not sure what I said, but I was in the back seat and we wanted to make sure I was awake. We got to the hospital and they put me on a stretcher. They stuck IV's in me and gave me more pitocin. I had to be flat on my back and the pitocin made the contractions come back. My back labor was as bad as it was during labor, but I couldn't do anything to relieve it. I wasn't very happy, because I felt like I had gone back to transition, when I was tired, thirsty, and in a bunch of pain. I looked up at those cold ER lights, cried, screamed and said "I thought I was done with this!" and "why can't it be over!" Looking around, there was a flurry of people. Two doctors, several nurses, Lucas, and others. Lucas had a terrified look on his face. I could hear the baby crying in the hall. Dr. Wilson told me he was going to try to pull the placenta out and if he couldn't get it, I'd have to go in for surgery. My mom showed up. With her on one side and Lucas on the other, they worked on me and were able to get the placenta out. The pain started to go away. I realized then that I was sitting in a pool of blood (Dr. Jaffri says I lost half my blood). They started cleaning up and they weighed and measured Natalie. She was 8 pounds 10 ounces, 21 inches long. Her head was 34 inches around and her shoulders 36. We got moved upstairs and spent the night in the hospital. We enjoyed showing our new bundle of joy to all our visitors.

We are both very happy we had a home birth, even though it didn't all turn out as planned. We are so blessed!

Kate Abby's birth

2009-06-02T10:13:00.001+12:00

I was 7 days overdue and had been waking every morning dissappointed when nothing had happened because I was sure I would go into labour during the night. Sure enough..... at 2am on Monday 9th February I felt my first contraction. I even started timing them from 3am to make sure I wasn't imagioning it. They were every 3 minutes but not lasting all that long.
I had an appointment for monitoring of baby at 9:30am so I went along to that to find I was 1cm dialated. wooo hooo. My MW thought I'd be back in by that night having the baby. So I went home and relaxed for the rest of the day, it was stinking hot and I attempted to sleep and watch a dvd. By that evening nothing was really happening I had been having contractions all day but no real drama. By 10pm I wasn't sure whether to go to bed because they were becoming stronger. My MW txt to say 'call me if you need to go to hospital' so we arranged for me to go in and meet her at 11:30pm.
When I arrived she thought I was 7-8cms diallated and then changed her mind to 3-4cms. GRRR.
I was given pethadine and told to try and get some sleep. (yeah right!) The contractions were pretty strong, and the pethadine wasn't working so I got into the birthing pool (but it was far too cold), and when I got out the contractions had all but stopped. I dozed on a plastic chair for the next few hours as I didn't want to move incase the contractions started again.
At about 5am my MW finally came back, she had, had a great sleep and was supprised that I hadn't. I was hooked up to the monitor again and the contractions came back but not all that strong. This continued through to daylight. I think it was about 9am when things went slightly down hill. I was 8cms diallated and had stayed that way since 5am. My body must have hit the transition stage and it really started to shut down I was frozen and couldn't stop shaking. That was when the MW decided we needed to get things going, so all of a sudden I was having a drip put in and being given Oxytocian. Well that really got things moving contractions came back much stronger. The gas was taking too much effort to concentrate on, so I just had to breath through it. I think the babies heart rate must have dropped as well, as things were made to happen rather quickly. The baby was hooked up to the monitor continuiously and things began to progress.
Finally less than an hour after being given the drip I felt the need to push. 30minutes of pushing later and little Kate Abby arrived into this world. 10:51am after a very long time in labour. I would have to say the pushing stage was so quick it almost seemed easy.
Did I say that outloud?

Selah's home birth

2009-05-17T08:17:00.002+12:00

I have a beautiful new birth story to share with you today. Here is the link to Joy's blog where you will find the story of Selah's birth, and once you've finished reading, you may want to check out Dad's version too!

Thanks for sharing Joy!

Baylee's birth

2009-02-19T10:01:00.005+13:00

Baylee Grace’s beautiful birth story…

The Beginning -

Without having anything to compare with, I’d say we had a pretty good pregnancy. Sure, I had bad morning sickness (I vomited at least once a day from weeks 6 to 26, and it restarted again near the end!), back pain, lots of tiredness and all that jazz, but really, it was nothing I wouldn’t face again. I think my biggest worry with being pregnant was actually becoming pregnant, and even that was nothing too exciting! We started trying in about August or September 2007, and I was holding a positive pregnancy test in May 2008, and our due date was predicted to be the 7th of January 2009.

Approximately 36 weeks pregnant.

Baylee had other ideas, and decided to come into the world a little early. Luckily I had already started my maternity leave and we were pretty much “ready” for her.

Sunday 7th December - Morning - I went to the toilet to discover my mucous plug had passed, which basically meant I was greeted by a glob of clear, snot-like stuff. I was due to go to my Dad’s family Christmas party that afternoon, but rang the midwives to check and see what I should do next - I‘d been seeing a private GP-Obstetrician but was booked in to give birth at a local hospital. The midwife I spoke to was lovely and very reassuring that the plug was normal and labour could still be weeks away. I rang Mum and Dad (who insisted on picking me up, lest I go into labour while driving to my Aunty and Uncle’s house!) and we still went to the Christmas party, although my parents kept whispering to me to see if I was okay and not in labour yet!!

Monday 8th December - Morning - I started getting a very wet, clear, unfamiliar discharge which I began to assume must have been my broken waters. I rang the midwives again who (to my shock!) said I should come in to the hospital ASAP so they could have a look. I started getting mild period-pain cramps, so I quickly rang Anthony and my Mum, who met us at the hospital.

Afternoon - After a LOOONG day at the hospital (and Anthony leaving work to drive me there) it was established (after literally having a torch shone up my va-jay-jay!) that my waters were very much un-broken, and my cervix was very very closed. I felt pretty dumb, like the girl who cried labour or something, but everyone was very understanding!

Tuesday 9th December - I had my 36 week appointment with Dr Charry (my GP-Obstetrician) and I mentioned the plug to her. She asked if there was any blood in it. Nope. “That’s boring!” she replied. I told her abut my “broken waters” and hospital visit, and she said if I suspect my waters have broken to put on a pad - if it is soaked within an hour then you can be pretty sure that the waters are broken.

Thursday 11th December - from memory it was quite a warm day - Yes! I know it was because I struggled like hell to shave my legs. I was so over being pregnant by this point, which was made so much worse by spending nearly five hours shopping that afternoon (about 3 hours with Vanessa - one of my best friends and Baylee’s God Mother - and then another couple with Anthony) and evening.

I had to stop by my parents’ house on my way home and I remember nearly crying as I walked through their door, so tired, so sore and so ready to just have the baby NOW to get it out of me, meet her and stop being pregnant! I was also a bit teary thinking that I potentially still had about 6 weeks to go, if I went over my due date. My Mum later told me that it was weird, that night when she saw me she said I suddenly looked VERY pregnant, it was as if she hadn’t seen me for ages and it was very obvious now, where to her I hadn’t looked too different yet.

I fell into bed that night, un-aware that it would be my last good sleep for quite some time!!

Friday 12th December - I woke up kind of early for me, at 7:25 I rolled up to get up and go to the toilet. As I sat up I felt what HAD to be my waters flood out of me. Anthony was outside, and I staggered out to find him, with the warm waters trickling down my leg with every step. I told him and he ended up grabbing me a towel to shove between my legs so the amniotic fluid wouldn‘t drip all over the carpet. I remembered Dr Charry’s advice and put a pad on. It was soaked in less than ten minutes.

By this time it was about 8am, and Anthony had to decide whether to go to work or to stay home with me and see what happened.

For the third time, I rang the midwives who said I had better get to the hospital again, as now the baby was at risk of infection if I didn’t go into labour soon.

I remember feeling oddly calm. I made myself breakfast and ate it slowly while pretending to watch whatever was on TV. Anthony decided to ring his boss so he could have another day off and we drove to the hospital, giddy that it was happening - our baby was going to be here, soon! I rang my Mum (who was my second support person for labour) and she and my Dad (who happened to be home sick that day) met us there.

-- I should now explain that Anthony had only just transferred to a new job within his company, with a new boss and store etc, so it really wasn’t a great first impression to be having lots of days off work! --

Once we were at the hospital I was hooked up to a monitor which checked the baby’s heartbeat, and also told if I was having contractions. Baylee’s heartbeat was fantastic, but I wasn’t having any contractions yet.

It turned out I’d picked a bad day to have my waters break - they were very busy, so I ended up being asked to wait in the visitor’s waiting room until a room was ready for me. It was all good though, with my family there to keep me company and occupied. I started to get some more light period-pain like cramping, which my Dad ended up timing and we kept track of for a while (at this stage they were light and only lasting anywhere from ten seconds to one minute, but coming about every five minutes.)

By that afternoon I was admitted to hospital and on antibiotics, after they confirmed (once again with the torch!) that my waters had definitely broken. The room I was in could only be described as a “holding pen” for patients who aren’t quite ready for the delivery rooms - it was down the end of a very long hallway, as far away from the nurses station as possible, and from the new mums and their new babies. I was hooked up to a monitor which denied that I was having contractions, and it was “rest time” in the ward so Anthony, my Mum and Dad were all sent home by a VERY rude nurse (the first of many), which resulted in me bursting into tears. I ended up being comforted by another nurse who assured me that she was there for me seconds before she left the room and I can’t remember if I saw her again!

After I calmed down a bit I spent some time unpacking my stuff and sent some text messages to friends to spread the word that something was happening. I also messaged Melanie, a student-midwife who had been coming to various appointments and was hopefully going to deliver our little one. She was the daughter of a lady I work with, and almost finished her second year of Uni. At first I was a little apprehensive about the idea of her being there, being “just a student” but after meeting her and hearing her talk about midwifery and stuff, it was pretty clear she knew and was very passionate about her stuff!

Anthony, Mum and Dad returned that night (hospital visiting hours were 2:30-4:30 and 7-8pm) and Anthony had spent the afternoon uploading songs onto my ipod (a device which I will always be grateful to, for the fact that it helped me stay sane during these few days).

They left at 8pm and I was left to watch TV, read and try and get some sleep in this unfamiliar environment. I had a roommate who I learned (by listening in to conversations, we hardly spoke to each other) had pre-eclampsia and was being induced the following afternoon. I could have been more friendly to her, but I wasn’t really in the mood to try and make friends so I simply kept the curtains drawn around my bed and tried to make it feel like I had some privacy.

Sleep wasn’t happening, so I found some escape and solitude in my ipod. I’ll never forget listening to music that night, some of the songs became a soundtrack for my labour. I want to write a letter of thanks to Brooke Fraser (a New Zealand born artist, maybe comparable to Delta Goodrem - but way better!) for some of her songs and their lyrics which just seemed to fit and sum up how I was feeling in those hours.

Arithmetic - Brooke Fraser

I've been staring at the sky tonight
Marvelling and passing time
Wondering what to do with daylight
Until I can make you mine
You are the one I want, you are the one I want

I've been thinking of changing my mind
It never stays the same for long
But of all the things I know for sure
You're the only certain one

You are the one I want, you are the one I want

When the years are showing on my face
And my strongest days are gone
When my heart and flesh depart this place
From a life that sung your song

You'll still be the one I want

You'll still be the one I want

You'll still be the one I want

You'll still be the one I want

Seeds - Brooke Fraser

Night
Field of stars above us
You pick one
We frame it with our fingers intertwined

Seeds of every generation
Between our hands
And the promise to teach you the little I have learned
So far

Child
What will you live to do?
What have I left for you?
What will we leave behind?

You
Learning as you're growing
Not yet knowing
The world isn't always quite as beautiful
As it is now

Night
Field of stars above us
I pick one and name it for you
And all who are to come

Saturday 13th December - Saturday started early, as hospital life tends to. I was woken at about 6am (after finding sleep just hours before) to take my antibiotics, and it seemed easier to stay awake and be tired than try and go back to sleep. I rang Anthony and updated him on my night, and he headed off to work promising to be at the hospital by 7pm.

Mid morning I was visited by two doctors, one named Andy who was quite young and now holds the title of The Hottest Guy I Have Ever Met. He asked me what had been happening and why I was in hospital (I’m sure there’s a reason why they seem to ask you the same things a hundred times!), and they left saying that I needed to stay in hospital on antibiotics until I either went into labour or I would be induced on Tuesday. I had mentioned the pains I was getting, that they were now starting to “peak“, and mentioned the intervals I was having them. On a scale of one to ten, ten being high, these were rated as about a 9 or 10 of “the worst period pain I‘d ever had“. “It doesn’t sound like contractions” one of them replied, contradicting everything I knew about contractions, “If you were in labour you’d know it and be in much more pain.”

That afternoon my parents and Alicia (my older sister) came to visit me, and the “not labour pains” were at the point that I couldn’t talk through them - I had to stop and breathe through them, or at least pay attention to them!

I also kept having the sensation of really needing to go to the toilet, and when I did either absolutely nothing would happen, or I’d have diarrhoea, or I’d do the tiniest drop of wee.

Mum, Dad and Alicia left just as they where wheeling my roommate off to be induced, and I got a few hours of total privacy, accept for the occasional nurse coming to check my obs.

When Anthony arrived that evening he helped me through some of the pains by rubbing my back, “I can feel it pulsating!” he declared through one of them. I’d been writing down the time and duration of each contraction-that-wasn’t for a good two hours by now, and when a nurse next came to check up on me I told her about the pains getting worse, that they built up and then went down and they were definitely regular. By this stage I described them as being the WORST period pain I’d ever had, and then some, at least fifteen out of ten. She sat through me through one of the pains and put her finger-tips on the top of my bump as if she were reading a crystal ball. “Are you getting one now?” she asked just as the pain began to start. I nodded, unable to talk. It peaked and I breathed through it. Once it was over I showed her my records of when I’d had the pains. “Oh don’t bother writing them down!” she practically laughed, “If you do that then you’ll focus too much on them! I don’t think you’re in labour, they aren’t intense enough.”

Anthony broke the hospital rules that night and managed to stay with me until about 10pm, when a ditzy older nurse came into my room and gave me a cocktail of pills to take, which included two Panadeine Forte (I’m not supposed to take Codeine mind you) and two sleeping pills which the nurse claimed would knock me out in ten or twenty minutes.

Anthony left, thinking I’d be asleep soon, and I read a little until my eyes got too blurry and I thought sleep was coming.

Sunday 14th December -

At midnight I was still wide awake, and now listening to my new roommate being set up next to me (my curtains were still drawn). She sounded about my age and was pregnant for the first time, about 30 weeks into it, and suffering from severe dizziness.

I’d started to need to moan through my contractions which were still coming at least every five minutes. I flagged down my nurse when she came in to check on my roommate and told her how bad the pains were. “Get some sleep.” was her response as she walked away.

At 2am, I’d been moaning and crying for what felt like an eternity. The Panadeine had done nothing, and I was still no closer to sleep. I buzzed the nurse determined to get some kind of response from her, or at least get her to listen to me. She huffed into my room and sat through me through yet another pain which I breathed and moaned through as I had been. I told her that now, compared to any period pain I‘d ever had - and I‘ve had some pretty ferocious period pain in my life - this was now about a hundred times stronger. “I hate to tell you this but it’s going to get a lot worse than what it is now - you aren’t even in a fraction of the amount of pain you will be when you go into labour. I suggest you get up and go for a walk to tire yourself out and get to sleep.”

Stupidly, even though I knew how much agony I was in when I walked (as I learned from staggering back and forth to the toilet), I forced myself out of bed - the pressure inside my pelvis was now simular to how you feel when you are DESPERATE to do a poo! I made my way into the dimly lit hallway, and I slowly stumbled along it a few times, stopping regularly to breathe through the pains and to lean on and grip onto the wooden handle bar as the pains peaked and eventually subsided enough for me to take some more steps. I heard the cries of the newborn babies and wondered if I was really going to have to wait until Tuesday to hear my own little one.

After maybe three more contractions I waddled slowly back into my room and apologised to my new roommate for groaning and making noise. “That’s okay, I couldn’t sleep now anyway. You must be in so much pain.” she replied sympathetically. We exchanged a few details (names - she was called Hannah - and why we were in hospital, that it was both our first babies etc) and she ended up basically coaching me through many of the contractions which followed - I can still hear her voice calmly saying “It‘s okay, you are doing so well, just keep breathing, it will be over soon.” She was an absolute angel, so sweet and caring, and she really helped me get through one of the worst, loneliest times of my life. By about 4am Hannah fell asleep, and I listened to my ipod some more, prayed a lot and kept trying to breathe and get myself through it.

You are the one I want, you are the one I want…

At 6am Anthony rang me and he listened to me groaning through a few contractions as we spoke. “Why haven’t they done any internals to see if you’re dilated?” Anthony asked, mirroring my own thoughts and frustrations. I had no idea.

At 7:30am a doctor came and checked up on me. She sat through some contractions and did the same crystal ball hand thing as the nurses had been doing. “I’m not going to do an internal because the risk of infection is now too great. However, my colleagues will be around some time later on, and they may choose to do one.”

I rang Anthony who was now getting ready for work. He ended up ringing the nurse that was looking after me and got “permission” to come and see me outside their visiting hours so I didn’t have to be alone. I was hanging to see him and have his support, but seeing as I “wasn’t in labour yet” I convinced him to go to work, and I got my parents to come in instead. I promised to call him as soon as I had any news or the other doctors had seen me.

I then rang my parents and spoke to my Dad. I didn’t need to ask twice but I pretty much begged them to come in and just be with me and help me through the pain if nothing else. He promised to wake my mother and they would be there as soon as they could.

They arrived at about 9am, and I gripped my Mum’s hand through a few contractions before Dr Andy, The Hottest Guy I Have Ever Met, stuck his head through my curtain and asked me how I’d been. I told him about the night, the pains, the groaning and as my parents left the cubicle he sat down next to me and felt my belly. He checked the baby’s position (her head had been in the “right spot” for weeks and he said she was getting ready) and sat through a couple of contractions, timed them and then stood up.

“I think you’re in early labour, I’m going to get you set up for an internal.” These were the words I’d been hanging for.

Within five minutes a nurse had set me up for Andy to “have a look”. He and the nurse - who was now a nice, older lady - whispered a little between themselves as I lay there in all my glory waiting for answers. I couldn’t read their faces, though golly, did I try!

“Well,” Andy began looking me in the eyes as I held my breath. “You’re about four centimetres dilated and I can see the head.”

I think I squealed a bit before asking “Does she have hair?!” (In our last ultrasound the sonographer could see hair - no idea why but this was so exciting for me!) Andy looked at me as if I was nuts, but smiled and replied, “Yeah, I can see a little bit of dark hair.”

I lost it, “Oh my God, you have no idea, that is the best news I’ve ever had, I want to marry you, you have no idea how happy I am now!” I blubbered on like that to Andy for what felt like five minutes, he and the nurse laughed and said I would now - FINALLY - be taken to a delivery room.

My parents heard all this from behind the curtain and came back in as Andy left, I rang Anthony and the nurse quickly helped us pack up my things. She then got a wheelchair and I said goodbye and wished Hannah all the best. “You too, how exciting, you get to meet your baby soon!” she replied.

Within what felt like five minutes - but was probably closer to forty - Anthony was at the hospital, I had left a voicemail message for Melanie to come to the hospital ASAP if she was able to help us deliver and I was being set up in a delivery room. I got changed into an old nightie and Anthony took a couple of photos of me and the last of my bump. We were then introduced to my first Midwife - a beautiful lady named Anika, who wore a head scarf.

Andy came and did a “proper” internal (the earlier one he had just looked, this time he had a feel) and said I was actually 5cms dilated.

At this point I began asking Anika about pain relief - the nurses that thought my pain would get much worse has scared me into wanting an epidural, but Anika calmly convinced me to try out the gas first. “The first seven centimetres are the worst, you have done the first five all by yourself, I think if you want a natural birth you will do it on your own.”

“How much longer do you think I’ll be in labour?” I asked as she examined me.

“Honestly, I think you will have your baby by 4pm, and it will happen quickly.” She replied, exciting and terrifying me at the same time - this was IT!

It was about 11am when I decided I wanted to try the gas, so Anika set me up with a mouthpiece and explained to me how to use it. I had naturally started breathing in long and very deep through my nose and out through my mouth - and had been since 2pm the previous afternoon. After just three puffs of the gas I decided it was messing up my breathing too much and was more of an annoyance than a help.

I remember feeling very thirsty, and Anthony and my parents getting me water to sip, and me holding whoever’s hands were closest and breathing and moaning louder with each wave that hit me.

After the gas I felt very sleepy all of a sudden, and I remember suddenly understanding how people reported sleeping through part of their labour. I had no such luck, but tried to cat-nap as best as I could.

By about midday I started to feel a bit delirious - I remember suddenly moaning to Anika that I needed to poo and BAD! She and Anthony helped me to the toilet where Lord, did I have a dilemma. I had the sensation of wanting to poo, yet I was then so scared I would accidentally have my baby in the toilet.

I remember Anika waiting at the door for me and asking how I was going (no dignity at this point whatsoever!) and me crying that I wanted to push but didn’t want to be the lady who had her baby in the toilet. “Just try sweetheart, you won’t push the baby out, I promise.” She tried to reassure me.

Try I did, and absolutely nothing happened.

I waddled back out of the toilet in agony and Anthony helped me back onto the bed.

Within one minute I was crying to Anika that I needed to poo, and all I remember for the next hour was getting up and down off the bed and going to the bathroom but not wanting to push but wanting nothing but to be able to push. “Not yet sweetie,” Anika told me when I begged her to let me get the baby out NOW.

At around 1pm I was on the bed and I grabbed Anika’s hand and looked her square in the eye, “It’s taking every fibre of my being not to push.” I told her.

She did another examination and told me again that it was not far away - my baby would be here soon. “I need to push,” I kept saying.

“Okay,” Anika said at about 1:15pm, “give us a tiny little push.”

“Really?” I replied, stunned.

“Just a little one, and when I say so, stop.”
My mind boggled - how do you define a tiny push, when all you want to do is push for your life? I gave the littlest push I could, feeling like I was trying to stop a an overflowing damn from busting.

“Okay, stop. Does that feel a bit better?”
“I want to keep pushing.”

“Not just yet, it won’t be long.”

“I need to go to the toilet again.” This was, no kidding, about the 30th time I “had to go”.

“Ok, but I’m going to stay by the door in case you need me.”

As I sat I felt another immense wave of a contraction, after I got through it I opened my eyes and there was another midwife standing talking to Anika - she was maybe forty years old and had blond hair.

She introduced herself to me (while I was still on the toilet mind you!) as Theresa - it was 1:30, time for Anika to go home and she would now be my Midwife.

I forced myself off the toilet and within seconds another contraction hit as I collapsed onto Anthony. He caught me and held me, talked me through it. As it was ending Theresa came over to us and put her hand on my arm and helped me to breathe.

I remember wearily looking into her eyes and murmuring “I need to do a poo.”

She cracked up laughing, “Oh honey, you don’t need to poo, you need to have a baby! It’s time.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, scared she would change her mind.

“I am very sure. I’ve been doing this for over twenty years. I just need you to give me a few minutes to set up.”

A few minutes sounded like a few hours, but soon enough she had wheeled in the baby resuscitation trolley (standard, nothing to worry about I had learnt during a hospital tour) and was getting whatever she needed organised.

In the nick of time Melanie arrived - I remember smiling and saying to her I didn’t know she wore glasses; I remember seeing her in her Kmart uniform and Theresa telling her to put on an apron. I then heard Theresa asking Melanie a series of questions, I guess sizing up her experience - I was relieved when I heard Melanie answer everything with ease and confidence.

The next forty or so minutes are a bit of a blur, but also a time I will never forget.

I remember Theresa asking who was staying in the room. I didn’t want anyone to leave - I felt safe having both my parents there, as well as Anthony, so they all stayed. Anthony was on my right hand side, his hand gripped mine throughout it all, and he whispered words of encouragement to me like an angel, and seemed to just know when I needed another sip of water.

Mum was on my left, holding my other hand, and Dad was sitting to Mum’s side.

Melanie was at my right leg, and Theresa was at the left. Theresa instructed me to lift both my legs up, bent at the knee so she and Melanie could each brace one as I was allowed to push, small at first.

I remember the relief sweeping over me as finally I could push like my instincts had wanted me to for what felt like hours. The relief was then overtaken by the unbelievable feeling of the baby slowly, slowly starting to emerge. “Push with the contractions” I remember Theresa instructing me. “I don’t know when they are,” I wailed. Melanie took the incentive to place her hand on my belly and tell me when to push. I remember focusing on her eyes and her calm voice telling me to push and breathe and relax.

I remember the burning feeling as my body began to stretch as the baby’s head came down.

I remember Theresa grabbing mine and Anthony’s hands and letting us feel the crowning, it was all wet and felt surreal to think I had our babies head right there. She then grabbed a mirror and told me to have a look - I opened my eyes for a few seconds and I remember feeling crushed that I could only just see the head starting to show - I felt like I had been pushing so hard and for so long that the baby must be at least halfway out by now (hehe how naïve I was I soon discovered!).

I remember being told to really push, long and hard, and I can hear myself grunting and making noises, animal-like that I couldn’t make again now if I tried.

I remember my Mum bursting into tears and my Dad and everyone coaching me, keeping me focused and talking me through it all.

I remember begging for someone to count as I was pushing - I had suddenly got a flash of when I used to use the cross-trainer at the gym, and how I used to get through it was to tell myself “there’s only x amount of seconds” - and I needed a goal like this to keep me focused and feel like I knew what I was doing.

I remember everyone laughed and said that was very “American” of me, to need the counting, but whatever worked!

I remember the incredible feeling of empowerment I got when the baby’s head was out, and gearing up to do just a few more pushes before we could meet her.

At 2:17pm as I grunted through the final few pushes I felt an incredible gush of a baby coming out, and fluid, and noise of cheers and happiness.

I threw my head forward with relief and my eyes opened; I caught a glimpse of this purple little body between my legs, naked and wet and covered in its inside world.

As I blinked Theresa scooped the baby up and I held her to me, I remember cradling her little wet bum in my hand and babbling to everyone it was all squishy, and feeling the white vernix on her skin and being terrified that she was so purple.

“Is she a girl?” I asked in my delirium.

“Larissa, why don’t you tell us?” Melanie smiled at me as I moved the thick, twisted umbilical cord out between the baby’s legs.

“Oh my god, it IS a girl!” I cried, being hit with another wave of relief - we had so many pink clothes!

Anthony cut the cord, and Theresa then had to take her and she was examined by the waiting doctor. Theresa brought our little girl back to us, and told me to give her a quick kiss, as she needed to go to the Special Care Nursery - a standard procedure for babies born before 37 weeks (we were 36 weeks and 4 days). The baby’s measurements were: 2.390kgs, 45cms long and her head circumference was 32cms.

Baylee in the Special Care Nursery - about 10 minutes old.

Afterwards…

Baylee Grace (as we named her later that day) was kept in the Special Care Nursery for two weeks. She needed help learning to feed and had to put on a bit of weight before she was allowed home. I had a second degree tear which needed four stitches, but other than that I was up and bouncing, on such a high after the birth.

Anthony & I, the day after Baylee was born.

I would describe birth as like trying to poo a St Bernard out of your vagina - but in all honesty I would do it all again in a heartbeat. It was easily the most incredible thing I have ever done.

Baylee is now nearly ten weeks old, and is getting more beautiful every time I look at her. She has so much character and personality, I cannot wait to see what she will be like as she grows up. I’m addicted to my little girl and in love with our new family.

Baylee - 8 weeks old and thriving

Ainslie's birth

2008-11-24T11:10:00.017+13:00

Our baby was due on the 20th of October. I was kind of hoping to go a little early this time as my first baby was 8 days overdue and my second came right on her due date. I figured it was time for an early baby! But I was wrong - babies only come when they are ready.

I had a really good pregnancy, and felt really well right the way through. I was so lucky not to suffer with symphysis pubis and nerve pain in my leg like I did the last two times, which is apparently unusual - it's supposed to get worse each time! What a difference it made though.. I mainly felt like myself with a big bump out the front!

My baby was sitting posterior the whole way through the pregnancy, just like my first two, so a week before my due date I had some acupuncture with one of the midwives who works with my midwife. I'd never had it before, but it was fine. I had trouble relaxing because I'd been having really restless legs during the last part of my pregnancy and really struggled to stay still! The baby turned though! Two days later at my midwife check up the baby was anterior for the first time ever - I was so happy!

I had niggly period pains every day, lasting for most of the day for the last 2-3 weeks of this pregnancy, but I'd had that with my second baby too so I knew to just ignore them the best I could.

Our two daughters had been sick on and off for a good month with a D&V bug and a cold each. My husband had also been sick so I was starting to feel quite distraught at keeping / getting everyone well so that I could relax and surrender to my labour whenever it started. None of us had had much sleep in the past few weeks either. I was still feeling happy though, and we were all excited to meet our new baby.

My due date was a Monday and my husband was really hoping to not go back to work! Over the weekend I developed a sore throat! Ugh! I was so annoyed!
We had a fantastic weekend anyway and did lots of family things. We drove to our favourite beach, went for a bushwalk, and drove around and around the bumpiest car park (just like we did the day I went into labour with #2!), much to the amusement of a group of people in the carpark! I was so crampy and hopeful things would start that night.. but no. I woke up on the Monday feeling rotten with the beginnings of a cold and tearful. DH decided to stay home from work anyway, which was great. I had another acupuncture appointment with Carly, and this time I managed to last a whole hour, and I really relaxed and focused on letting the acupuncture do it's trick. I spent the whole time imagining my labour, and imagining holding my baby. I said my birth affirmations over and over and also found I had a song going over and over in my head. "I'm ready" by Tracy Chapman. I had a lovely relaxing hour, covered in warm towels. It was exactly what I needed.

Monday afternoon and Tuesday we decided to spend as family days. We took the kids out, went for walks, went for long drives, went to the zoo, tram rides, ice blocks, fish and chips on the beach, playgrounds etc. We had a fabulous time, and it was almost like a holiday at home.

On Wednesday my midwife came for our antenatal appointment (isn't she great coming to our house?!). Baby was great. STILL in anterior position! She asked if I wanted a stretch and sweep, and I accepted because although I was keen to follow my body and let things happen, I knew the stretch and sweep wouldn't do anything if things weren't ready.

At this stage I was about 2cm dilated and everything was really soft and well effaced. I had a little bit of a show afterwards but nothing much. I sent DH back to work because I was really feeling by this stage that this baby was never going to be born! We took our eldest to kindy, and everyone was so nice and sympathetic about me being overdue.. I just felt like crying, and then I felt stupid because I knew I was only 2 days over! My friend (who is just the SWEETEST) invited me over for lunch, and it was too nice an offer to refuse. I spent the afternoon there while she fed all our kids (my two, her two and my neice), gave me some delicious homemade lasagne and made me sit there. I had a great afternoon just chatting away, and she made me leave Miss 4 there to play. We arranged for DH to pick her up on his way home from work. I hope I can return the favour one day because it was exactly what I needed!

Wednesday night I got on the trampoline and had a bounce (as suggested by the midwife, lol) - and when I say bounce, I mean that my feet never left the mat, I just gently rocked up and down. It was quite fun actually! We bundled the girls in the car and took another bumpy ride into the city to our favourite South Indian restaurant and got the hottest takeaways. Such a treat!
That night I finally lost my mucous plug, and continued having a show all night, every time I got up to the toilet.

Thursday arrived and I felt rotten. Sick, grumpy, tearful, FED UP! It wasn't so much the pregnancy, I still felt ok except for the cold, but it was the waiting, and people ringing me several times a day to check if anything was happening! My Mum offered to pick up Miss 4 from kindy which was great because I was starting to feel like I couldn't really cope anymore. I should have rung DH to come home, but I didn't want him to use another day of leave if he didn't have to. I kept losing my mucous plug all day, and was still crampy, but nothing more than usual. When DH got home he took over everything and made me just relax. We had a lovely, relaxing evening, and then both of us had a great sleep that night. I still had to get up lots of times to pee though and each time I felt this huge pressure, like I had to pee urgently! I thought to myself "my waters are going to break soon" (just like my last 2 labours).

I woke up at 6.55am and looked at my phone to see the time. Said good morning to DH, and I think we had a quick conversation about how it was a shame he had to go to work (can you tell we were hanging out for his 4 weeks of leave?!). I remember saying "I need to pee SO bad", and as I went to move out of bed I felt a big gush and started laughing. I leapt out of bed as fast as I could and stood at the side of the bed as my waters broke in a spectacular fashion.. LOL. DH was laughing too - I didn't need to tell him what the noise meant - it was his third labour cleaning up a puddle of amniotic fluid from beside our bed!

I felt SO excited - finally things were starting! I remember saying to DH "YAY! You don't have to go to work now!!" I went and had a shower. I had contractions straight away, but the were mild and only just stronger than I'd been having for the past few weeks. When I got out of the shower DH had made our bed (with the plastic sheet underneath, lol), and was getting the girls all ready for the day. I set myself up in my room with my birth affirmations (which my lovely friend K had given me), my iPod, some nice moisturiser, my water bottle and some toast. I had some nice quiet time in my bedroom while the girls got ready to go out for the day. DH kept coming in and seeing if I was ok, and I was fine. The contractions were getting stronger, and I was having to breathe through them. I was feeling really nice and relaxed, really excited that things were happening, and I was focusing on my affirmations, on breathing nice and deep like I learnt at yoga, and keeping my body nice and soft and relaxed. I sent a few text messages to my sister, my Mum and my midwife, just to let them know what was going on.

DH and the girls left to take Miss 4 to kindy, and I had about 20 minutes of really focusing on relaxing. I even stood up and danced and rocked to my iPod. When they got back from kindy my midwife rang (about 9.30am), and I spoke to her about what was happening. I had two contractions whilst I talked to her and had to stop talking so I could focus on breathing through them. We agreed I would ring back when I wanted to be checked out. My contractions were still coming frequently - they were never more than 3 minutes apart, and still lasting 30-50 seconds each time.

DH's Mum arrived to take Miss 2 out for the morning, which is the usual Friday routine anyway. My sister A arrived at our house (she is training to be a midwife so my plan was always that she would be there). I was still listening to my iPod and was getting frustrated that it seemed to be playing the same 10 songs over and over. I heard Miss 2 and my mother in law leave the house, and DH came and fixed my iPod for me (I'd loaded it wrong the night before, lol). It was funny because I'd filled it with music that I enjoyed listening and singing to - and I'd included lots of yoga music. When it came down to it the yoga music was completely irritating, too slow! I was enjoying listening to all sorts of things, like Cat Stevens, Tool, Paul Simon, all sorts of things. When DH handed it back to me and pressed play, you know what song was playing? "I'm ready" by Tracy Chapman!! It was exactly the right song to hear. I felt myself go deeper into my labour, and I let the contractions really wash over me. Just like the song says.

"I want to wake up and know where I'm going
Say I'm ready
Say I'm ready

I want to go where the rivers are overflowing and
I'll be ready
I'll be ready

I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me

If it's love flowing freely
I'm ready
I'm ready

If the waters can redeem me
I'm ready
I'm ready

I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me

Oooooh, Oooooh

I want to wake up
I want to know where I'm going
I want to go where the rivers are over-flowing

I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm ready"

You can listen to the song here. (I can't listen to it without getting chills and feeling teary now!)

I think it helped knowing that the girls weren't home too, and I could really relax and start moaning through the contractions without them hearing.

They were getting nice and intense now, and stronger. I was really trying to focus on going with them and feeling myself open up, rather than feel tense and fight against them. It wasn't easy, but the affirmations helped so much.

I had specifically asked that I be left alone as much as possible, so that I could focus. I really found in my last labours when people came and talked to me, I had to stop focusing on my contractions and start focusing on what they were saying and I had a feeling that it had really interrupted the flow of things. This time I was determined that I would just get on with the job, and allow myself to go into 'la la land' - that space labouring women go into where you are really off in another place. It worked really well for me this time. By this time I was finding that I was the most comfortable perched on the end of our bed, and in this position I could feel myself opening up nicely.

My Mum arrived around this time, and was surprised to hear me moaning so much. She came and talked to me, and my sister had just told her that I wanted to be left alone, so after a quick chat she asked when I was going to call the midwife back, and I remember saying I didn't want to ring her back and then find out I was 3 cm again (that happened last time!) - and she suggested to me that I might be further along than I thought. To be honest, I suspected I wasn't 3cm, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I decided to leave it till I was sure. Mum left the room and I got back to my own little world.

It was about half an hour later that I decided that YES I did want my midwife to come back. I was thinking that if she came and said I was 3cm then I was going to cry!!

DH came and told me our midwife would be here soon. I found out afterwards she had said she would be 40 minutes, but could come ASAP if needed. I was blissfully oblivious to this, and could really feel things heating up. I knew I was dilating up nicely, and I was reassurred by knowing G (midwife) was coming soon. It seemed to take ages for her to get here, and during this time my contractions were really long. They would roll one after another, washing over me, with no gaps in between. I focused on breathing through them, on moaning louder and louder. I had my eyes closed and really concentrated on relaxing as much as I could.

It was about this stage that I started thinking I might need to call out to my sister and tell her she might have to deliver the baby. I was wondering where G was, and thought I could feel that I wasn't far away from pushing, even though I didn't really have the urge to yet. Little did I know, A (my sister) was sensing the baby was very close and had formulated a plan of what she needed to do if G didn't make it!

G finally arrived and organised another space on the bed for me so I could recline back so she could check my progress. It was such an effort to get up and change position but once I lay back I knew I wasn't going to move again. She checked me, and the look on her face was priceless. She gave me a huge grin, and rushed over to give me a hug and kiss, and exclaimed "It's all going to be ok this time Kate, you're 9cm and the baby's head is right there!!". That's exactly what I needed to hear. I remember grinning and relaxing into the feelings even more.

The contractions continued nice and strong. G rang her back up midwife, and while she was getting all the emergency equipment and delivery equipment ready, T (back up) arrived. I remember feeling really relaxed, like I was in good hands, and things were happening as they should. They tried to encourage me to get out of bed to go to the toilet, as I needed to pee, but there was just no way I could. I tried so hard, but it felt impossible! I started feeling quite grunty and pushy around this stage. DH had left the room for something and I remember saying to G "I want DH!". She called him quickly back, and then I asked for A to come in too.

This bit is a bit blurry because the pain was intense and it was taking all my concentration to listen to what people were saying to me, and to concentrate on doing my job. I could feel my baby moving down as I gave small involuntary pushes. My sister was holding my hand, and I still had my eyes closed, trying to concentrate. DH was ready to catch the baby. G was really encouraging and talked me through all of this next bit because I was past it really.. I just did what I was told! We had talked in our antenatal appointments about trying to slow the birth down, because both my previous births had gone so fast (the birthing stage), and it was really important to me that this time, the baby had time to clear the mucus from it's lungs.

G got me to pant and breathe the baby out, and not push. It took all my concentration to focus on doing this. I'd really lost sight of the fact that a baby was coming, and I remember feeling like my whole body was splitting in two. Everyone kept saying they could see the head, and the baby was coming, but I could hardly believe it really. I just kept breathing and panting and kept my eyes closed. G said to me 'Give a little push, and then we'll be able to see the nose' - I thought to myself "What?!" - I had really lost sight of the fact there was a baby coming, and I really didn't think we were that far through with the birth!

There was intense pressure and burning as her head was born, and then the rest of her just slipped out, into DH's hands. He handed her to me, and she was all warm and wet and just lovely! I had no idea if we'd had a boy or girl. DH came and gave me a kiss and I was just in complete shock that there really was a baby!
I just thought she was the tiniest little thing!! I asked Joseph if we had a boy or girl, and he said girl. Another beautiful daughter! How wonderful!

I was just so delighted that she was here, and I'd done it! I was all smiles and feeling fantastic. I did feel a big gush of liquid about now, and looked up at G to see if it was what I thought it was... and yes, it was a bleed. She asked me if I was ok with an injection of syntometrine, and I agreed, knowing it was important now to get the placenta out. I didn't feel the injection, and we quite quickly got the placenta pushed out, and the midwives had a quick check of my perenium at the same time and I was completely intact. (Woohoo!).

I got the baby latched on to the breast, and she was quite happy there. I remember holding her little bottom and saying to my sister 'Feel this!' - because it fit in my hand exactly the same was as it did when she was in my belly and I could feel it! My sister had spent lots of time palpating my belly too so she recognised it as well, so funny.

Miss 4 had arrived home from kindy with my Mum just minutes before the baby was born, so she came in to meet her little sister, and was delighted!

About 5 minutes after that, Miss 2 arrived home with my mother in law and she was a bit bewildered and said 'What's Mummy got that for?" - hehe!

After everyone had met our little baby, the midwives did the newborn exam and found everything was just right. Someone said that we'd had a big baby, and I seriously didn't believe it.. she seemed so tiny! But when they weighed her.. yes, she was 10lb 11oz (4.8kg) and 57cm long.

DH and I had a quick conversation about her name and we decided to go with the name we had ready for a girl 'Ainslie Theia'.

So here we are, parents of three beautiful daughters!

Welcome to the world and welcome to our family, sweet girl!

It's a girl!!

2008-10-24T21:02:00.002+13:00

We are delighted to announce the birth of our lovely new daughter... Ainslie. Born at 1.12 pm, Friday 24the Oct, into her Daddy's hands, at home, after a fast 6 hour labour. All is well, she's absolutely lovely! Weighs in at 10lb 11oz (!! - I thought she was going to be smaller than the others!!). No tears or grazes etc. I love home birth! Photos and birth story to follow.

Overdue!

2008-10-23T16:49:00.002+13:00

3 days overdue, but it's not all bad.. baby just isn't ready yet. I'm trying all the natural induction stuff of course, but kinda happy to wait too. It's Labour Weekend here in NZ this weekend.. will I be in labour? LOL.
Fingers crossed I can come back with some good news soon. :)

39 weeks

2008-10-13T19:20:00.002+13:00

One week to go, officially, but who knows what this baby will decide!

Feeling good, nice and peaceful, ready to birth. Very much looking forward to meeting our baby and having a cuddle, but not too impatient (although today would be good, lol). Feeling well.

Just had some accupuncture this morning to try and get baby moved out of posterior position, that was interesting.

Will try and get more bump photos soon, and will update here if I have any news!

35 weeks now.. counting down

2008-09-14T08:06:00.002+12:00

Taken last week.

Home Birth for a Healthy Baby

2008-09-06T10:27:00.001+12:00

Fantastic post over at 'Birth is Good' by Rebecca. I agree 100% whole heartedly.. YES, this is why we home birth!!

Click here to read

p.s.

2008-08-02T23:06:00.002+12:00

For anyone playing along at home, I'm 29 weeks now, feeling great, just a little tired at times. We are planning our third home birth (not sure in #2 really counts as a home birth.. let's just call it an out of hospital or any medical setting birth! LOL). I'll keep this updated closer to the time with any news!

Georgia's Birth Story

2008-08-02T23:02:00.003+12:00

Some of you may remember this birth story. It is the story of Jacob's birth, and I've linked to it before. I found it an incredibly inspiring story of a woman who was absolutely determined and hung in there during a hard labour, like I've never heard of before. I was in absolute awe reading it, and it stayed with me for a long time.

It is with absolute delight that I get to share his little sister's birth story link with you today. Here is is: Georgia's Birth Story. Rebecca, you ROCK! Another amazing story. This one's had me teary for the last few days because it's just so beautiful.

Thanks for sharing!!

Birth videos

2008-07-31T12:50:00.002+12:00

Here is a great post from Bellies and Babies - it's full of birth video links. I know I love a good birth video... my husband is always looking over at me saying "Are you ok love?" as I wipe away tears.. all I have to say is "Birth video" and he just smiles and blows me a kiss. Hehe.

BIRTH VIDEOS

Another good reason I home birth!

2008-06-12T07:57:00.001+12:00

Check out this article, I've worked in hospitals and I don't care what anyone says.. they AREN'T clean! I'd rather my newborn baby be surrounded by our family bugs at home!

Surprise twin birth!

2008-05-12T08:30:00.002+12:00

About now 33 years ago I was on my way to the hospital to have a baby! We had dropped of our 17 month old at DH's brothers and sister in laws house. No real labour pains at this stage, they had eased but I had been having contractions on and of since late morning the previous day! As our first was born by an emergency C section they wanted to monitor me this time and I was told to come into hospital as soon as I had contractions. I had been awake most of the night, a couple of times thinking I had better get on my way. But the pains kept easing and stopping. I wasn't sure if this was the real thing! So of I went, really quite sure it was a false alarm and I would be sent home again.

As we left the house, I remember DH saying it would be great if it was twins! Don't be silly I told him, this is my due date and I would have gone in ages ago if it was two! His comment was made because of all the twin jokes that people had been making. I ended the pregnancy lighter than I started (due to severe morning sickness - almost 9 months of it) but I was huge!!!

We got to the hospital and there was no doubt I was in labour, the pains kept going constantly. No description is needed but I thought I was in hell! The specialist who delivered our daughter appeared on the scene. Somewhere during the day, they mentioned I may need another C section, but you know me, determined! If I could have this baby naturally that was what I wanted. So they let me.

About 32 hours after the first contraction, I was on my way to theatre to have our baby. In those days they didn't tell you anything. But there was mention of something been done to help me? I couldn't have given a toss, I don't even think I was on this planet. As they thought the baby was going to be around 9 - 10 lbs they opted for a Ventouse delivery as opposed to forceps. I was the first woman in this hospital to have this delivery (or so they said) so they asked if some student nurses could watch. Bring them all in - I couldn't care!!! I was drugged up to the eyeballs. Soon I heard a baby cry. I tried to move to see and was asking 'is that my baby?" La la land!! No-one would answer. The dread feeling went over me, so I was firing questions, still no answers but this was a bit of panic going on and despite been dopey I clearly remember the doctors words. "Jesus Christ there is another one!" I seriously thought he meant there was another woman needing to come into theatre.

I looked up at the nurse who was holding my hand, and she said "you are having another baby, they're twins." I was so out of it, I just though "oh ok" and lay back down. The student nurses who had watched the delivery had all left the room, if they had waited another 4 minutes they would have seen the second baby being born! It seemed like ages before they would tell me if the babies were ok, or even what they were. I'm convinced when they showed me the babies they showed me the same one twice because they looked so much alike, yet the following day they weren't alike at all. I had the briefest hold before they were whipped away. So we had a 5lb 4oz son, and a 6lb 9oz daughter. Not bad weights considering no-one knew! Really unbelievable as the twelve or so hours I was in hospital they were monitoring the heart beat (s)!

Where was DH when this was going on? Out in the waiting room eating a toasted sandwich!!. Some lovely nurse had offered him one as I was wheeled away. Husbands and partners could watch in those days if it was a simple natural birth. It wasn't an option for him to be with me. A nurse rushed out to tell DH the news, he told her "wrong man I'm Mr R".

The babies even though been good sizes were sent to neo natal unit. The nightmare started - both ended up very jaundiced and were under lights. One was been fed every 2 hours and one every 3. As I wasn't successful breast feeding our daughter, I was adviced not to try with two. So while all the other woman in the ward would have their babies delivered to them every 4 hours to be fed, I would be drudging down to neo natal to fed, it seemed and endless task. Then one nurse told me I was favouring one baby over the other. The reason - I had missed some feeds for the baby that was been fed every two hours! 10 days later I was sent home with one baby, they other had to stay in the unit for what was another 10 days!

In our typical way - we had lots going on!

Home - we didn't quite have one, we were due to move into a new home 20 minutes from the hospital, that the builders were rushing to finish. Can't remember the sequence or timing, but we got in the house while it was still being worked on.

So we had one baby at home, one baby in hospital, along with our first daughter who went into hospital the day after I got out with a severe gastro bug!

I couldn't drive.

The doctor wrote a letter to DH's work requesting he be given time of to help - they said no!

DH was doing electrical fault work and was working huge hours.

They wouldn't let us visit the neo natal unit if we had been to visit our eldest daughter who was in the infectious ward! We worked around this by going to the neo natal unit first. It was heart breaking. I can't remember how we made the daily trip to the hospital. It's a blur.

About a three weeks after the birth, we had our babies home along with their big sister.

The first five months I didn't leave the house with them, I couldn't drive and we couldn't afford a twin pram! We had a lovely single one! As we had just moved there, I didn't know any neighbours and the only visitor I had during the day was the odd visit from the plunket nurse.

PND? Well I was never diagnosed, but looking back I can remember spending a fair bit of time in tears. I did cope well though and it took no time at all until having two babies was a breeze. They were sleeping through the night by six weeks and really quite good babies. I loved having the kids close in age. They had a lot of fun growing up.

The doctor who looked after me during the pregnancy? Well he was our family doctor, he was elderly. I and others suspected two babies, but he laughed it of. I felt I had a head up under my ribs but he assured me the head was in the right place!

LOL - we originally thought five would be a good number of children to have. There was no way I was going back for another!

Breast Crawl

2008-05-08T14:15:00.001+12:00

Just had to share this beautiful video my sister put me onto, it's about how babies can actually initiate breast feeding them selves, and how they are encouraging & promoting this method in developing countries.

Tytus's birth

2008-04-30T12:18:00.003+12:00

Tytus Jamie born July 18, 2007:

Went to bed as normal - couldn’t get to sleep so went and slept on the couch. 2:30AM up from ‘gas’ which was really contractions. I just didn’t feel well. I got up and did some little tasks like wiped counters, checked email, etc. Realizing it was probably labor and not gas or ‘sickness’ I started timing contractions at 3ish. They were about 3 minutes apart and 15-20 seconds long but not too strong. The doctor said to call when the contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour. I hopped in the shower hoping to lul the pain and thinking I better enjoy 1 more shower before birth. I got out, with no success lulling the pain the contractions were only stronger, but still 3 minutes apart for 20 secondsish. Around 3:30 I called the doctor (an hour finally passed!) and he said we should probably mozy on in as Alexia’s labor wasn’t extremely long and my contractions were pretty close together. I got the OK from the Dr. so I woke Mark up (yes he was sleeping through this). I called Mom W. and told her the news and that she should head over. I packed up some stuff and we headed to the hospital - arriving at 4am. They checked me and I was dialated to 5cm (I thought this was disappointing as I was dialated to 7cm when we arrived with Alexia). I prepared myself mentally for a long labor. They asked about ‘drugs’ and I was sure I wanted Staedol ASAP and Mark insisted on an epidural but I was not too sure about that. It took FOREVER for them to get me the Staedol - I didn’t get it until 6AM!! I decided to try the epidural so they called the anesthesiologist and once again it took what seemed like forever and I got the epidural around 7am (at which time the Staedol was about worn off so I was ready for more pain relief!). OK I am convinced, Mark was right, epidurals are AMAZING! Soon after I dozed off and Mark attempted to rest also. 9:30am the nurse came in for a routine check and I had fully dialated (what! already! I didn’t feel a thing!) so it was time to have a baby. They called the doctor and he headed over. He arrived around 9:45 and he broke my water. The nurses came back in and had me start pushing. I gave a couple pushes and then they said STOP! (what?! stop!?) they almost had to deliver! Doctor came back in and a little baby BOY was born at 9:57am! I had pushed for about 7 minutes total and didn’t rip or tear at all (that is so great!) We enjoyed lokking at and holding our new son while the doctor and nurses scurried around doing who knows what (we didn’t pay attention to them we had an amazing son to pay attention too!) I felt amazing after giving birth - a completely different experience then Alexia.

Welcome to the world Tytus Jamie!

Alexia's birth

2008-04-30T12:16:00.001+12:00

Alexia Rae born June 10, 2005:

June 10, 2005 5:07am you arrived! It was a Friday. I went in to work on June 9 at 8am and worked until about 4:30. When I went into work I was already having contractions, but since I had never had Braxton hicks I just assumed that’s what the cramping was. When I got home from work I realized the “Braxton hicks” seemed to be somewhat regular, so I decided to take it easy for an hour and time them while I read quotes. The contractions were between 4 and 6 minutes apart, but didn’t seem very strong – so I just hung out for a while. At 8:00ish I called Mark at work to ask him how things were going and tell him I thought we had some “action” going on. He came home soon after. He said “I thought we were supposed to call the doctor when they were five minutes apart-I think you should call.” So I did. Dr. Geerlings said – “Try and wait till midnight, plus then you don’t have to pay for the extra day” (Yes he’s Dutch). So at 9:30ish Mark and I decided to go for a walk to the Soft Spot – an ice cream parlor in Borculo. I got a small chocolate twist and mark got a small deer tracks. The contractions started getting worse on the walk back home. When we got home Mark decided to try and get a quick nap before we left. The contractions definitely were getting worse. At 11:30 I woke him and said – lets get ready to go – it’s getting more painful. He got up and packed the car. The ride to the hospital was painful but short (thankfully the doctor had called ahead so they knew we were coming around midnight.) They brought us right to a labor delivery room at Zeeland Community Hospital. I asked for drugs immediately as things were getting VERY painful. They checked your and my vitals and everything looked well so out they gave me some drugs. I got my first dose around 12:40am June 10 and that made things a bit better. When I got to the hospital and they checked me I was already dilated to 7cm and the nurse said “You did some work before you came in.” I thought ‘good, because it sure felt like it!’ I started pushing around 3:30 and my water broke just after I started pushing (yes I pushed for 1 ½ hours). The doctor barely made it – you almost came before the doctor arrived. Man did it feel good once you were out! You sure were a surprise to me as a little girl ~ but either gender I was very in love. The doctor and most of our friends and family thought you were going to be a boy, but boy were they wrong! You had so much dark hair! You immediately pooped and then as they wiped you off it was smeared all over you! You let out a good scream when you were born too. Mark cut the cord – what a proud new daddy! Mommy was proud too.

Welcome Alexia Rae Vander Pol

Niklas's Birth Story

2008-04-21T08:09:00.002+12:00

I was four days overdue when going to bed on Monday night. DH had been at work and said he could not really concentrate since he was anxious to meet the baby and to start three weeks parental leave. We fell asleep and I soon woke up with a weird sensation. It felt like something was happening, but I thought I was being over sensitive and just went to bathroom thinking I should pee (happened like five - six times a night in my third trimester). I had asked my mother and friends what contractions feel like, and everyone was like "Oh, you'll know, you can't stand straight, you can't talk, and when the labour starts you've never been so uncomfortable in your life". It was not like that at all. I was awake for about an hour, feeling the new sensation, and then DH woke up. I guess I had started to breathe heavily. I said I think there's something going on, and DH wanted to start timing. I said I was not sure if I had contractions, but the urge to breathe heavily came every 4 minutes. We called the number they had given us to the hospital, and they told me to wait for an hour, take a shower, and then call again. After an hour I was already leaning to the wall and contractions were 3 minutes apart. We did call to announce we were on our way. It was 5 a.m. when we took the 10 minute drive to hospital - I was very excited and could not wait to finally get into business! When DH was driving I remember seeing everything very clearly, it was very dark and very quiet. We were talking with excitement, and wondering what was ahead.

We arrived at hospital at approx 5:30 a.m. A nurse measured my cervix, and I was already 4 cm dilated. I was enlightened to learn this having heard horror stories of moms being in horrible pain and labor not proceeding. We were guided directly to delivery room. A morning shift had just started, and I was lucky to have the same midwife from start until the baby was born. She was young, in her mid-20´s, and 5 months pregnant :) I put the hospital gown on, and wanted to try welcoming contractions sitting on a huge gym ball. It felt good, contractions were still 2-3 min apart, I was rolling my hips from side to side and DH was rubbing my lower back. I was holding a laughing gas mask on my other hand, and took a deep breath of the gas with every contraction. I can't say if it helped - I felt really good in any case, and was thinking that if it was going to be like this all the way, the pain was bearable and I would be able to make it! Then the midwife suggested I'd take a shower, and I rose up to notice my waters had started to leak. The midwife examined the fluid and confirmed it was the water. I never made it to shower when contractions suddenly got A LOT more painful and there was only a very short break in between - I kind of a have a memory gap here, the next thing I remember is lying on my side on a hospital bed holding the gas mask like it's my last straw.

It was approx 9 a.m. when doctors had their round, and I was told to lie down on my back so that they could examine me. It was awful. I felt like I was no longer connected to my body, and when I was lying on my back there was no gap between contractions. The doctor examined me and said I was still 4 cm dilated - the same than three hours earlier! They finally said I could turn on my side again, I tried to get comfortable, but still there was just one huge contraction with no gap in between, and I felt like my whole body was cramping, and I was not able to move along with contractions anymore. When we visited the hospital and met the midwife three weeks before giving birth they asked if I wanted any medication. I said I wanted to try without, but if I felt like the pain was unbearable, I wanted the epidural immediately. When I learned there was no progress in three hours I was thinking "Ok I think I'm going to be in this delivery room for some time, this is one of those horror labours that lasts for 48 hours, I need some rest". I thought I could rest for two hours while the medication lasts, and then have new energy and be readier to push. I managed to gasp from behind the mask "canIpleasehaveanepiduralplease". Luckily the anaesthatic doctor was available, and he came right away. I got the epidural at 09:45, and was almost asleep by ten. It was a funny sensation - I was still able to feel the waves of contractions, but the pain was completely gone. I was half asleep, and DH was reading a book on a bed by the window (I think it was very thoughtful from the hospital to provide a bed for dad too!)

Soon I felt like I had to poop. I had heard that's what it feels like when you're fully dilated and ready to start pushing. I said to the midwife that I think I should start pushing- She examined me, and confirmed I was fully dilated. It was 11:00 by then. At this point I was a little bummed I took the epidural - if I had known I'd be ready to push in one hour, I totally would've gone without! The midwife told me to turn face down on my knees and start to push gently whenever I felt the urge. At this point things started to get serious. There was a heart rate monitor attached to baby's head, and his heart rate started to drop when I started to push. Midwife told me to stop pushing and go into "prayer position", face down and bum up - this gives the baby most space to breathe. The heart rate corrected, but dropped immediately when I started to push again. Midwife paged a delivery doctor, and suddenly the room was full of people. There were two midwives, two delivery doctors and one pediatric doctor. A beautiful young lady doctor was guiding me, and said she's here to help the baby and we need to co-operate seamlessly. She was very professional and I had no fear, I felt like we were in good hands. She attached a ventouse onto baby's head, made eye contact, called my first name with a demanding tone and said "PUSH NOW!" The cup de-attached, and the doctors panicked a little. They attached the ventouse quickly again, and within the next push the baby was on doctor's arms.

DH looked really worried. Doctor's rushed my baby to be examined - he cried with a small voice, and I was at complete peace. I felt wonderfully happy - in spite of all the drama I knew my baby was well, and I had taken a huge leap into world of motherhood.

2008-04-17T07:54:00.003+12:00

The Birth of Miette Grace Hamilton
Sunday 22nd July, 2007
Sunshine Hospital, Melbourne, Victoria.

Due to my Dr going overseas 9 days past my due date he was in a hurry to induce me. I was booked to be induced on Monday 23rd July but we never made it that far.

Friday 20th July - 40w6d
It was my brothers 21st Birthday so we had a very busy day. We went into the Casino for breakfast and also out for dinner. Once we got home at about 9pm i realised that i hadn't felt baby move more than 4 times all day. My baby had been VERY active since 22w so it was very strange not to feel any movement. I rang the hospital and they suggested to come in, so we did. I packed my bags just incase hoping they would keep me in and i'd have a baby sooner rather than later.

10pm: We were hooked up to the monitors and all was fine. Baby was kicking but i just couldn't feel it. The midwife convinced the powers that be to let me stay overnight and be induced, i can't tell you how excited i was but little did i know that was the begining of the longest 30hrs of my life! The jell was inserted at midnight and we stayed the night in the birthing suite.

Saturday 21st July - 41w
7am: My Dr came in and broke my waters, this was rather painful, as were the internals which i hated!! He left pretty much straight away and i was left in the care of the midwives who were fantastic. Contractions started pretty much straight away and i used the gas which didn't do much other than give me something to focus on for a while.

I'm not sure what time it happened, but i was given a shot of pethadine which took the edge of the contractions, however it wore of very quickly. I was getting 3 and 4 30+ second contractions one after the other with no break, then i'd have 5 minutes where i had nothing. I think it was about lunch time when they gave me more pethadine, it was a big dose this time and worked really well. Although the same thing happened with the contractions. To get through them i used the gas and rubbed by belly with the other hand, this helped me focus on something other than the pain.

Time gets away from me here, i'm not sure exactly what time the rest of this stuff all happened. By about 2 or 3pm i was desperate for more pain relief so i asked for an epidural which is something i really didn't want. My dr was due to be back by 4pm so they asked me to wait for him and he wanted to do an internal. I wait for him and he didn't arrive until 6.30pm. By this stage i'd had no pain relief since lunch time and i was having contraction after contraction - i was in hell. I had an internal and they realised i was only about 5 cm dilated, i was absolutely guttered and just cried. All that pain and i was only half way... What crap! At this point we'd been at it for about 11 to 12 hours and i couldn't imagine going through another 12 hours in all that pain so we agreed an epi was the way to go.

After the epi i was in paradise, but unfortunately this slowed the contractions down a lot. My husband and cousin went home at midnight since my dr said it would be about breakfast time (on the sunday) before we'd have a baby.

Sunday 22nd July - 41w1d
2am: I woke up with the urge to poo, the midwife checked me out and said i was 9cm dilated. YAY! I rang Adam who had just gone to sleep (poor thing) and he and my cousin came back by 3am.

4 to 5am: I started pushing and OMG the pain! I felt like i had an orange bulging out my butt... I was crying again as the epidural did nothing for the pain in the butt, i could feel everything. I had pushed for almost 2 hours when my dr finally arrived. When he got there he said something like 'You've had a rough time love, i'm going to help you get this baby out'. I was very happy but i had no idea what he meant, it all happened so quickly.

6.45ish am: Apparently my little baby was sideways so i was never going to push her out myself. My dr started with the forceps (sp?) and i would also need a Kellans (sp?) delivery (which is when they turn her). This was so very painful. I just remember crying and begging for the dr to 'get it out'. I also had an episiotomy at some stage too. Then my cousin said 'the heads out' and about 5 seconds later she started saying 'Hayley, it's a girl... OMG, hayley it's a girl!' I had thought i was having a boy, i got my student midwife to look at my ultrasound video and she said she thought it was about 80% a boy. I hadn't told anyone but my cousin that it was a boy and i'd secretly been buying boys clothes and even a name plaque with LUCAS on it! All along we desperately wanted a little girl, so it was the most amazing surprise in the world!

6.55am: My little girl, Miette Grace was born. Weighing 7lb 14oz. They put her on my chest for half a second and then took her away. She wasn't breathing and was very blue. Her AGPAR score was 2 :( It took them 2 minutes to revive her (none of this i was aware of at the time) and all i kept saying was 'Are you sure it's a girl?' lol...

All up, my labour went for 24hrs and was NOT what i wanted. However, i now have my gorgeous little girl and i dont care how she got here. She had to spend 6 hours in the special care nursery but then she was fine and got to come to the room with us.

Writing this she is almost 4 weeks old and it the highlight of my life. It just amazes me how much you can love someone you've only just met, she's such a blessing to us and our family. Thanks for reading.

Amazing underwater birth photo

2008-04-01T19:49:00.002+13:00

Hehe, I thought this was so cute! My Dad sent it to me in an email today!

Brielle's Birth

2008-03-29T08:37:00.001+13:00

Brielle's Birth Story

Before I begin the story of our baby's birth, I feel it is important to share a little background information first. I am 31 years old, and have been married for 12 years. My husband and I have two boys, who just turned 12 and 9 years old. We were never planning on having more children; we had never even considered it. We were using a form of family planning birth control and it had worked well: for 8 years. I had returned to college after a 7 year lapse, and was just finishing my sophomore year. I was also working part time at a preschool, where I had been for four years. Obviously, we had a huge SHOCK!!!

My first two experiences with birth were very medical. With both I had epidurals and with my 2nd I was induced, given pitocin, and pretty much spent the entire 6 hours watching a machine print out what my contractions would have felt like, had I felt them. After having my 2nd (I was clueless about birth with my first) I felt weird. I felt like I had just gotten jipped. Shorted. I couldn't put my finger on it, and I sort of felt guilty because everything had went so well, and my fear of a cesarean had not come true. He was normal and healthy and fine, it seemed. But something had been missing. So, as time passed and I reflected and talked to other women about birth and the medical aspect of it, and how some women longed to reclaim it by promoting midwifery, I made up my mind as soon as I found out I was pregnant. I was going to have a my baby at home. I felt confident. Unfortunately, my husband wasn't as confident in that idea. So…I searched for birthing centers. None. I kept searching. I found a place called "The Farm" and learned everything I could about them. I called them and set up an appointment. I spoke to the midwife there several times over the phone, and she answered so many of my questions with a strong, encouraging voice. She understood what I wanted. I wanted to go there and give birth. We drove the 2 ½ hours there and had our first prenatal exam. My husband and our boys heard the baby's heartbeat at the same time I did for the first time. We discussed our desires. My husband's fears were eased quite a bit after meeting our midwife, and I felt good that this was going to work. The biggest concern was the length of the drive there. BUT I planned to have my baby late remember? So I would plan to be there before my due date. I was getting excited. Then we had a financial fall out. We were unable to get the loan for the cost of the birth, and we were qualified for state insurance. I resisted and tried to figure out how to work around this. But nothing seemed to fall into place. I started searching for midwives who took state insurance. I found one group. One. In all of middle Tennessee. (Note: The cost of a homebirth including prenatal care is now 1/3 of an OB/GYN visit and hospital birth). I set up an appointment because I knew that I needed to get my lab work done regardless of where I went. Fortunately, I found a wonderful group of midwives that were working from a branch of Vanderbilt in a little clinic called Vinehill. They were so amazing, and I couldn't believe that I was actually coming around to the idea of them, because I really didn't want a hospital birth. I was still in denial. In fact, when I finally called Sharon (my midwife) to tell her, I was crying so hard and she was working so hard to help me understand and encouraging me to pray for peace over this. I did. And I realized that it didn't matter where I had my baby: in my home, at The Farm, or in the hospital. My baby would come. And that was all that mattered.

So…I continued to research, to learn, and to ask my new midwives (a team of five) a million questions. I declined almost all of my tests, including the ultrasound. (I had to sign waivers of refusal). I prayed a lot. I drew up an extensive birth plan. I revised and shortened it. I printed it, along with directions to the hospital and contact phone numbers, and passed them out to the three other women who would be involved (my sister, my doula, and my very close friend). Every new midwife I saw I liked, and each had been informed about my desires by the other. I drove myself to the prenatal visits, which were an hour away. The last one I went to was on a Monday. I met a new midwife that day and she said that I either had a small baby, or I still had a few weeks to go. On Tuesday I should have worked, but I had decided to stop working a week earlier than planned. I tried to do a lot that day, but my body kept telling me to stop, I felt so tired. Everyone had kept reminding me to "rest while I could." And so on that day I did actually listen to my body and laid down to rest several times when I wouldn't have normally done that.

But I still felt some hesitation in me, something that I was afraid of that kept bugging me. I felt I could have it all planned out, and still, nothing would be in my control. I feared hospital medical interventions and cesarean section rates. I feared not being able to bear the pain. I feared not fully releasing all of this fear to God. But I knew that it was necessary. At one point during that particular day, I remember thoughts of labor/birth really gnawing at my brain in a negative way, and I knew that they would just continue to get worse as time went on. I felt like the enemy was finding a way into what should be a wonderful experience. I knew that I had to give up everything fully to God and trust Him and know that His plans never fail, they are always good and He will sustain me. I decided that whatever His plans were, they would have to be totally fine with me. Whenever baby was due to come would be the perfect time, and the circumstances surrounding the event (here I was releasing my hospital fear mostly) would glorify God, and that was all I wanted all along. I felt so much peace settle around and within me. I didn't think much more about it, I just felt better. I fell asleep on the couch (a rarity for me) around 8:30pm that night, then got up and went to bed at some point.

Sometime in the late morning hours of the next day I began to feel these small waves of what felt like cramps in my lower abdomen. They barely woke me, and I wondered about them, but I would just fall right back to sleep after they were gone, and I think they were about fifteen minutes apart. At 5:41am however, one woke me up for good. It didn't hurt or feel very strong (they actually felt kind of good and I remember smiling about them). It was definitely "something" and so I began praying. More came, about every ten minutes for the next hour and I just lay there experiencing them, thinking "what an interesting sensation!" I mostly expected them to go away. Honestly! Here I was eleven full days before my due date, having expected to go right past it! But when my husband got up to go to work, I heard myself say, "better keep your cell phone close by today, it might be the day." He said, "Noooooo, it's not until December 9th. Remember?" And he got up and got ready for work. The contractions didn't cease, and I wasn't really aware that they were intensifying, only that they were consistent. I sent our older son to school with the warning that he may get picked up early. He laughed when I told him why. He said, "No….it's not even December yet Mommy." I assured my husband that he could go on to work, that this would probably take hours to progress, if it was even the real thing. He was hard to convince, but he finally left. That left just our younger son who I walked to the bus stop, walking and praying right through two contractions. He had seen a couple at home just before we left and he said "I just might think you are going to have a baby today now that I see how you are." I walked back from the bus through a much stronger contraction, while praying, then called my really close friend. She decided to come over, saying I didn't need to be alone right now. I said, okay if you insist, but take your time….

I tried to do some strange things at that point. I attempted to record a little video for our video journal (?) Then I began rocking in a circular motion through contractions. This was not strange of course, it really helped and felt good. But surely I would have realized this was real labor at this point. I thought I would just take a shower. I started throwing everything on my bed that I would be taking with me to the hospital, and called my doula and my sister. Neither of them answered, so I left messages to call me back. For some strange reason I was still in partial denial and didn't want to tell them that this was it, so I didn't leave that particular message in their voice mail box. I got into the shower, which felt nice I think, because I don't remember much of it, only that I thought I should be getting out soon. My doula called me back and said she would be getting ready to come over, then I called my sister back at work and told her it was time. When she called back a few contractions later, I told her it would be a good idea for her to go ahead and pick up the boys from school (as we were planning on them attending the birth). I couldn't imagine trying to check them out of school in my current state! I heard the doorbell ring, and still only partially dressed, tried to make my way down the stairs, but I just had to stop and kneel on the stairs going backwards, trying to take each step one at a time. After the rush passed, I opened the front door but there was no one there. Then I heard someone come in through the backdoor. It was my very close friend. She began gathering stuff from upstairs for me. I was crawling on all fours in my living room, holding my pants (trying to put them on) and my hair pic (trying to brush my hair) very frustrated that of all days I didn't think to use conditioner! I never could get my pants on. I was on my knees for almost every contraction, and my hands were either on the floor or the couch. I tried to do stuff in between contractions, but they were so intense and close together that I felt like all I could do was rest in between them. She helped me get dressed and I told her I felt like it would be best if we could start moving the stuff out from the house and into the Durango. I felt that would help me to know that we were progressing. All the while, the contractions were increasing in speed and intensity. I felt like I could not focus, I tried to relax, but mostly all I could do was pray. And I felt pretty incompetent at that too. I had planned on praying scripture and had even preplanned prayers for certain stages of this labor. All I could do was cry out, "God, Father, Please, I cry out to You. Please help me." Earlier, while I had been gathering stuff onto my bed prior to my shower, I had laid my pocket bible onto the bed, then picked it right back up, thinking I would need something from the Word to take with me for the upcoming moment (thinking I'd be reading a lot more along the journey of the labor). I opened to Psalm 17 and read this:

I am praying to you because I know you will

answer, O God.

Bend down and listen as I pray.

Show me your unfailing love in wonderful

ways.

By your mighty power you rescue

those who seek refuge from their enemies.

Guard me as you would your own eyes.

Hide me in the shadow of your wings.

I began to reach for that verse and parts of it would just come to me while I was praying. The best was that during a contraction, or even between, I could envision God coming near to me to listen to my prayer and rescuing me through His mighty power. I am so glad I opened my Bible at the moment I did, because I never got another chance.

I grabbed a jacket and put my summer shoes on, despite that it was chilly outside, and we started out of the house and into the truck. My husband had been calling off and on for the past hour checking on me. The last time I talked to him was right before I got into the shower, and he knew that my close friend was on her way over. I told him to just go onto his job site, which was on the way to Nashville anyway, at Exit 24 (about halfway from Clarksville to Nashville) I told him we would pick him up on the way down. My sister arrived at the house with the boys. I remember wanting so badly to hug them. They got out of her car and were walking so very normally towards the house, where I had just come out from. They had their backpacks on, and Josh asked if the door was already locked. He wanted to go inside and change into shorts. I remember thinking that was incredulous, but at that moment another rush hit me and I turned and knelt onto the concrete porch steps for another contraction. I decided then that the boys should probably not ride with me in the Durango on the way over to Nashville. We were in completely different states of mind, and I wasn't quite sure what I would do. So they got in with their aunt, and I climbed (on all fours) into the backseat of the Durango. My left knee was on the hump on the floor in the middle and my right knee was up on the seat. My left hand was on the seat behind the passenger's and my right hand held the back of that seat. This is the position I maintained for most of the journey.

The worst part of the entire trip was the back up out of the driveway and the drive down my short street, a left onto the next short street and down that street. It was during a contraction and though it was probably ½ mile total, it felt like the bumpiest ½ mile of my life! Then we were on the parkway and my close friend who was driving my vehicle asked if my doula knew we had left. I said, "Oh no! Call her!" She did, and we were passing her at that time on the parkway. They debated on where to leave her car, at the nearest gas station or back at my house. I remember thinking I'd be willing to go back over that nightmarish ½ mile if it was the only way she would get into the vehicle with me. I yelled, "I need her in the car with me!" She met us at the nearest gas station and climbed in the front seat. She immediately turned around and began to see how I was doing. She stayed turned around for the entire rest of the ride, I think. I was still having contractions that were closer and closer together and this part of the ride (to get to the Interstate) took forever. I would pray, moan, attempt to relax through the rushes, and try to rest in between them. My doula would rub my lower back, pray out loud and encourage me through each contraction. Very early in the morning I had been so hungry and thirsty that I had drank a small cup of orange juice and a few bites of bananas, all of which came back up now. Thank goodness my friend had grabbed the plastic bag I had almost used in the house and my doula was there to hand it to me! The midwives were aware that I was on my way to the hospital. I had contacted one of them, who was working at the clinic that day and she had let me know who was on call for deliveries and would meet me at the hospital.

On the Interstate I began to feel more intensity and frequency with each contraction. I realized later that a lot of what I had read and had learned about how to work through contractions I had been doing, which had been obviously working to both ease and progress my labor. The best book I read was entitled "Christ Centered Childbirth" by Kelly Townsend and I had just finished it recently. I was really aware of my need to depend on Christ to carry me through each rushing wave. I knew I had to release myself to Him in order for Him to hold me, and I would pray "Lord, be my strength for me." There were times in the middle of a contraction that I would remember this, pray this (or my doula would), and release myself to Him, and it was totally amazing what would happen. I could feel (and she can testify to this too) the tension and fear releasing its hold on my body and myself surrendering to the Almighty. How amazing He was! He was carrying this for me, every moment I that I would surrender to Him. I could hear my doula praying at the most intense moments when I was unable to speak or even think and I felt God's touch, both strong and soothing at the same time. We were experiencing and witnessing amazing things happening!

At one point I began to get very hot in the jacket I was wearing and I thought there'd be no way I could take it off, so I just cracked the back window and the fresh air smelled so good. I focused on the sound of it and the coolness of it. I wanted it get closer to the crack in the window and I probably even would've put my face out of the window if I could have reached it.

In between two specific contractions I straightened up my body to rest and felt a very strong sensation come upon me. I could feel (and see) the baby on the left side of my belly almost like clench up and push itself out away from my body and I said, "Oh no! Baby don't move! No, no, no, no…" because baby moving during the contraction was extremely more intense. I didn't realize that at that time the baby, submitting to gravity and by extreme will, was moving itself down into the birth canal. I'm not sure at what point the girls called the midwives at the Vinehill Clinic, but my doula was talking to them sometime around here. I was aware of the passing vehicles, sometimes they were passing us, sometimes us passing them, and I wondered if they could see me and what I looked like to them. But I didn't really care, I mean, why would I? I just thought it was interesting.

The contractions that followed the baby's decent were much different than the ones that preceded it. I felt a burning sensation and thought about the "ring of fire" I'd read about. I thought that was crazy because I didn't think that would be happening yet, did this mean I was close? The next contraction I felt the urge to push. Now that was really crazy to me, because I couldn't really believe this was the stage of labor that we'd reached! The girls up front asked me if I wanted to pull over or drive on as I informed them that I thought the baby was coming now, or at least very soon. I kept saying, "the baby's coming" immediately after a few of those kinds of contractions. My doula said later that my eyes were huge when I told her it was time. She was relaying this to the midwife and her and my close friend were conversing while we were moving. I couldn't hear any of it, which was a good thing, because of the wind noise. I just wanted to make it to Exit 24 for my husband, sister, and the boys to be there for the birth! But we drove past Exit 24. But when we did I was okay with it. My sister & boys were going to pick up my husband and meet us at the hospital.

The urge to push was getting stronger and sometimes uncontrollable. I asked my doula why my water hadn't yet broken if we were this far along in labor. She said, "it's because you have strong membranes." I thought that was a good reason. I'd always had my water broken by someone before. The very next contraction my waters broke and I said, "okay, there it is." I was relieved and I remember being glad because I'd always wanted to know what that would feel like! I felt the vehicle speed along faster (I found out later she started going about 90-100mph at this point). She was doing a great job though, speeding in and out through traffic, I felt like it was all under control and I didn't worry about that part of it. I knew she would be praying like crazy and that God would protect us to all the way to our destination. We did pull over along side the Interstate and I had to take off my pants (good thing, because I did envision trying to have the baby with them on, having no idea how I would take them off by myself). My doula ran to the back and grabbed some wet wipes as I was soiling every thing (my favorite blanket was under me L ). But I was glad to have my favorite pillows and blanket surrounding me, even if we did have to trash them afterwards. They had slept with me every night for my whole pregnancy. It was homey and comforting (as could be given the circumstances).

I thought we were going to deliver right there alongside I-24, and I wondered why we didn't pull more off away from the traffic and onto the on ramp that was visible from where we were parked, so I said so. So we got back in to move the vehicle and surprisingly just kept driving down the interstate. My doula had me switch positions so that in case the baby did come she could see and catch it. I put my pillow behind my back and was mostly sitting up, but kind of reclining against the back seat door behind the driver's side. She was still in the front seat, turned around, on the phone with the midwife. They told us to drive on and to have me pant through contractions and to resist the urge to push. I had no idea how that was going to work out, since I now felt very ready to have my baby. I remember thinking, "I'm actually going to give birth naturally! I really am!" And I was so glad. I had been singing the same line of the same song through most of this labor. It was Shawn McDonalds' "Open Me," asking God to open me. And He had!

When I saw the Nashville skyline on the horizon I felt hope at reaching the hospital. I began to feel so different. I felt more aware of everything going on around me and much more relaxed between these contractions. I was able to resist the urge to push on most of them, though I could feel the head crowning on a few (and I could hear Kelly telling Bess on the phone that she could see the baby's head emerging) but I was closing up between contractions with all my best efforts. I laid my head back and rested against the window pane. As we neared I-65 and I felt the sun on my face as the road turned South. It felt so wonderful, so warm, so bright and brilliant. I just basked in it, very aware of each breath I inhaled. We had reached the part of the road that I didn't think I'd be able to handle because it is extremely rough where the interstates meet. I'd actually thought about this while traveling to my prenatal appointments. But we flew over it and I felt as if we barely touched the bumps. We had closed the window in case the baby came so it would be warmer inside, but since it was apparent we were probably going to make it and I was burning up, we cracked it again. I remember my lips and mouth being so dry that I could not even close them together, as I tried to moisten them. I got one contraction here that I was attempting to pant through but on the tail end of it the pressure to bear down was too intense and I felt a groan escape me that was totally involuntary and I bore down. I felt the head crown big time that time. But we were almost there. The city was on our left and my friend was doing a great job of whipping through traffic while my doula was still praying and panting with me through contractions, keeping me focused on what I was trying to remember to do. I honestly think if she hadn't been there reminding me, I would've just pushed the baby out. She did remind me that people have birthed unassisted plenty of times over the course of history which did help to alleviate any fears I might have of just simply having my baby. I was okay either way. I looked up and we were in the lane heading down I-40 at the split and I yelled, "get to the right!" She looked back over her right shoulder and whipped it right over onto I-65 in just the nick of time. She had been so busy maneuvering through traffic and skillfully weaving in and out of it, that the split had come upon her quickly. I can't believe I had even noticed what was about to happen, but it felt like something right out of a movie! Right afterwards we were off of the Interstate and on Charlotte Ave, which presented it's own set of challenges and traffic. She just drove right around and through it, she honked through stoplights and drove the SUV like it was an Emergency vehicle.

When we reached the hospital's ER drive-up I saw my midwife walking out in her blue scrubs. She looked like an angel to me! She was carrying something in her hands, and I remember thinking, "That's not who I expected." I had just seen this particular midwife at my prenatal appointment two days prior. She came in through the passenger side back door and assessed the situation. I couldn't get out because I was having an intense contraction. I think that actually having arrived and seeing my midwife was like permission for me to give birth and I felt the head crown and not go back in this time. She asked me if I could scoot myself back onto the stretcher that someone had wheeled up behind me. I was still having the contraction and was shaking my head and asked, "Like this?" incredulously. That would just be too weird with the baby partially out of me. She said very calmly and confidently, "Okay, we'll have the baby right here then." She got something set up and Emergency medical personal came out of nowhere. Every door on the SUV was open, but there were people in and surrounding the vehicle so it didn't feel cold at all. Someone said something about what to do with the baby after it came out and my eyes must've looked stricken. I said, "Oh no. Please don't take my baby from me!" I felt like I would close up and put the head back in where it came from if they were planning on taking the baby, as that had been one of my greatest desires, to hold baby directly after having it. My midwife knew this was a great desire of mine and said, "Baby goes directly onto Mom. That's the warmest place for him to go. Get blankets ready to cover them up after he comes." I relaxed immensely. Then she looked at me and said, "Okay, you can push your baby out now." I said, "Now? I don't feel the urge until the next contraction." She said, "You won't tear right now. Baby's head is almost out. Go ahead and push your baby out." So I pushed a little. Not much. And out came the rest of the head. I was a little scared that the rest of the body would hurt coming out (I thought this was where I was supposed to feel the "ring of fire." I should have read this part over better, obviously. I remembered though that I had a "small baby: 6-7lbs" (this is what everyone had told me) so I thought that would make it easier.) Then I felt the shoulders and chest come out, then the bottom, legs and feet. It didn't hurt at all! It felt incredible! So, baby came out in three parts kind of, but I don't remember actually pushing the last two out. Baby just sort of emerged out of me. Which was an awesome feeling to have something come out of your body like that and to be aware and able to feel every movement on the inside and the outside! Baby came straight up onto my stomach and chest area and was immediately covered up with heated blankets. Someone from the ER said something about cutting and clamping the umbilical cord and my midwife said, "I'm not going to." They told me to hold baby and back up onto the stretcher behind me so they could wheel us into the hospital. I did back up, but all I could think of or focus on was this incredible life that was now on top of me, that had just been inside of me for the past nine months! Baby was so warm and wet and I could feel so much strength in its little body as it squirmed around on me. It felt absolutely wonderful as baby lay directly on my skin. Someone said to keep rubbing his back. I think they wanted to hear that he was breathing and okay, but I could see very clearly that baby was fine. I wondered why they had said "he" though. Had they seen something that I hadn't? I had no idea what the sex of the baby was, and as far as I knew neither did anyone else. It didn't matter. Baby was healthy, born beautifully, and felt like a miracle lying on top of me. I was fascinated and mesmerized. I couldn't keep from looking at that beautiful face and black hair. I had no idea what was going on around me. I don't know where I went when I came into the ER, who I passed, whether they looked at us or not, and I didn't care. We were moving along in our own little world, baby and I. It felt like a dream.

We finally reached the room that they put us in. I had no idea if it was even in the labor & delivery ward. It didn't feel like it was. It felt like an "extra room." But I didn't care. My midwife took a look at the baby and cleaned her up a little with a towel, saying we both looked good. She put the baby to my breast and it began to somewhat nurse. I don't think it really was, but it seemed to be trying to figure out what to do there. Then she delivered the placenta, which was a weird sensation. I was surprised at how big it felt like it was. I began exploring the little body all over under the warm blankets: arms, hands, fingers, back, legs, feet…and then discovered that this baby was a girl. I had to check again. A girl. I had to look to be sure. A girl. Will & the boys arrived about this time and I told them. It's a girl. They all three smiled. A girl.

When the umbilical cord eventually stopped pulsing she clamped it. She offered for Daddy to cut the umbilical cord, but he declined (as he had twice before as well). Our younger son would like to do it though, and so he did, making Daddy nervous that he would cut me, and me nervous that he would cut the baby. But of course he didn't cut anything but the umbilical cord and when it bled a little he said, "See Mommy, that doesn't even bother me." Our older son pointed my husband to the bowl where the placenta was and where they were trying to get the baby's blood out to determine her blood type. He said, "that's nothing compared to that over there! Look Daddy." Will looked and is still to this day haunted by that image (I never saw it, though I meant to look at it, but according to the boys it was "cool" and was called the "meat looking thingy.") The other girls that were supposed to have been there for the birth came in.

All the while the baby stayed on top of me. I was afraid to move her or let anyone else hold her because I thought that as soon as I did they would whisk her away to the nursery to be measure & weighed. So we just stayed there like that, me on the stretcher bed, baby girl on me, our family and friends surrounding us. I was able to maintain skin to skin contact with my baby for 2 ½ hours! Then they put some other laboring mom into the bed next to ours, after closing the divider curtain of course. Everyone said that I looked really good, and Will said I looked better than I had after having the boys. I felt wonderful. Exhilarated. (I never even went to sleep until midnight that night.) We finally moved to a postpartum room and baby went to the nursery, where daddy stood for two hours and watched her lay under the warmer and get her first "bath." Then she came back to me in the room and stayed with us the entire rest of our hospital stay there. I think they thought we weren't very compliant patients and maybe took offense to the fact we didn't let the baby go back to the nursery. With seven babies on in the postpartum ward she was the only baby who didn't go to the nursery. They all asked us if we were first time parents when they came to our room to check on me or the baby. We just smiled and said, "No. She's our third child." We even had to debate with them to be allowed leave the next day, and even then they didn't release us until the late evening. I'm not sure why they wanted to keep us there longer, but despite it all most everyone was still nice to us.

We named her Brielle Jenae. She was 8lbs 5ozs and 21 inches long. Brielle comes from the name Gabrielle which means "God is my strength." How so appropriate for this girl. God was certainly my strength during my pregnancy with her and especially during my labor and delivery of her. It is my prayer that God is her strength throughout the entire journey of her life. I've truly witnessed the strength that He has already given her, as she moved so much while in my womb, and the strength she exhibited while she was on her way into this world.

We are so glad that everything turned out the way that it did. I could not have contrived a better Birth Plan than this wonderful story that God choose to be ours. His timing is perfect and His Hand was on it all. It remains to be so this day as we enjoy our beautiful blessing, and experience His gracious giving through this joy He lights for us through our daughter. The boys are wonderful big brothers, of course. When they stop to look at her, kiss her, or let her wrap her fingers around their finger they say, "I just love her." We love each of our children so much and know that they are unique gifts from God. We are so blessed and amazed at the goodness of His Love.

So, even though I was unable to have a home birth I was close enough to home in the back seat of our 5 ½ year old vehicle surrounded by my own comforts from home. I was a little sad that not everyone was surrounding Brielle and I as she came into the world. But as my good friend said, "It happened as it was supposed to happen. God was there." And though I had really set my heart on having the baby at The Farm (a community in Southern Tennessee), there was no way that would've happened even if I would've went ahead with the plan for that. God knew that. He knew exactly when baby would be born,. He knew I would never have been at The Farm 11 days prior to my due date (I was planning on going there to stay for a week starting on two days prior to my due date - back when we had decided to do have the baby there last July--), nor would I have made it for the 2 ½ hour drive with only 4 hours of waking labor. But, how beneficial it was to have considered having our baby there, and meeting such a wonderful midwife, who gave me priceless wisdom and confidence in myself that I continued to hear throughout it all, and even now still. How much better it is when we surrender our dreams to our Father! He knows everything, and works out everything in order to His perfect will. I'm so glad that I relinquished control to Him, something He allowed me to experience quite a bit while I was pregnant also. He is the Creator and Designer of birth, who else better to depend on through its amazing process?

While my story still amazes me to read and recall it, I know that I have been given it in one way as a gift to share with you. There are many choices that women have in birthing decisions and also through prenatal and postpartum care of themselves and their babies. It is really knowing those choices and knowing that how making those decisions will effect the outcomes both physically, emotionally, and psychologically of mother and child. No one really tells women about their options or the risks. The information and the answers must be sought out by inquisitive women who desire something more profound for their birthing experience. Our birthing experiences impact us,and we tell our stories of them again and again. Seeking information requires us to no longer act in innocence and be reliant upon doctors. We become responsible for ourselves, for our babies, and we take part in a higher way of deciding, instead of allowing another to choose for us. We take our birth experiences back that way. And even though the most detailed birth plan may totally never work out (I laugh when I reread mine) it doesn't matter. Have one anyway. Know why you choose what you choose and what the consequences of those choices may be. Then, in wisdom, trust your body as a woman, to believe that it knows exactly what to do. Because I am testifying to that truth. It does. And it's an amazing experience just waiting to happen.

Front seat of the car birth

2008-03-04T08:11:00.002+13:00

I thought this article was a pretty cool thing to read this morning, good on her. Despite not having maternity care through out her pregnancy, sounds like she managed the birth pretty well (in my opinion, not that it's a medical one.. LOL).

Read it here.
Not sure how long the links stay active on this site.. so if you click and it's gone can you let me know and I'll remove this post.

Hugh's birth

2008-02-29T11:20:00.002+13:00

This is a wonderful birth story.. and we are lucky enough to be able to read two versions:

Hugh's Dad's version

AND

Hugh's Mum's version

Visit the links and leave some love :-)

Visual story

2008-02-18T22:06:00.003+13:00

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm into scrapping, especially digital scrapping, in fact.. here's my other passion : My scrapping blog.

I've met so many wonderful ladies in the digital scrapping world, and one of them is this sweet girl, Brittney. A few days ago Britt posted a layout on her blog of HER birth, and I thought it would be a fun thing to post here.

Click on the image to enlarge. And thanks for sharing Britt!

Ben Julian's birth

2008-02-08T12:53:00.000+13:00

I was 12 days overdue and was booked in to be induced 2 weeks past my due date. I’d been to the hospital twice for foetal monitoring to ensure that the heart beat was strong and everything was ok with baby. I’d had the foetal monitoring the day before and hadn’t been sleeping very well for a few days. I was so uncomfortable and my heartburn was making it nearly impossible to sleep with no less than 3 pillows propping me up.

The night before I’d had about 5 hours sleep which was considered a good nights sleep so I felt well rested. I was awake at 5am and started to get period pains at 7am. I’d had this before but they has always gone away, however this time they continued and by 9am I was pretty sure that I was experiencing the beginnings of labour. My husband was ready for work but I suggested he wait and see what was happening and if it ended up not being anything then he could go to work late rather than go to work and then have to leave, especially as it was an hour each way. At 9.30am I rang my Mum at work and told her I believed I was in the early stages of labour. We started timing the contractions and they were lasting about 30 seconds and coming every 7 minutes or so.

I finished packing my bag and tidying the house and preparing for the possibility that I wouldn’t be home for a few days. When I had a contraction I would walk around and chant encouraging words which I’d read in Birth Skills by Juju Sundin & Sarah Murdoch, like ‘baby down, baby down’ or ‘baby’s coming, baby’s coming’. It was helpful to remind me of what the end result was going to be. For someone who never really gets bad period pain, I couldn’t imagine it would get worse than that although I knew it would get worse.

I rang the hospital at 1pm, 6 hrs after the first pain and they advised I stay home for as long as possible as it was my first baby and that I would be a very long way off. They would listen to me have a contraction while I was on the phone and judge from there as to how far along they thought I was. As I could talk through it (with a bit of heavy breathing) the midwife suggested I leave before peak hour as it was about a half hour drive away to the hospital so suggested in another 3 hrs to leave and to call them if anything had changed or if my waters broke in the meantime. They kept asking me if my waters had broke and I kept replying that I wasn’t sure as I was always going to the toilet to wee anyway….little did I know that when they did break there would be no mistaking it for a little trickly wee!!!

About an hour later I rang the hospital again. This time I wanted a change of scenery, I wanted to get out of the house and have some professionals look at me and tell me how far I had progressed. I was scared of the car trip and peak hour. This time I had a different midwife and again she suggested I stay home for as long as possible and that I would be a long time before having the baby. She suggested I try the bath, shower and wheat bag for relief. I’d already had a fairly long shower so then jumped into the bath for about an hour before I had had enough of that. I then lay on the couch while my husband and I watched TV with the wheat bag on my abdomen for about another hour. It was about 3pm at this stage so it was 8 hours after the first pain and my husband made the decision that we were going to go to the hospital. My contractions were about 4 minutes apart by this stage so we packed up the car and headed off around 4pm getting to the hospital at about 5pm by the time we ‘checked in’ etc. The car trip was pretty bad. I remember punching the roof of the car to distract myself from the pain and when we went down the main road from my house to the highway I had 3 contractions and I remember looking at the drivers of the cars next to me thinking there is a woman in labour in this car and you have no idea. Looking back now (nearly 4 months later) it is all very surreal. That was the worst part of the drive apart from one moment when I thought I wanted to get out of the car and walk around during a contraction.

The midwife (the 2nd one I spoke to on the phone from home) came to collect me from reception and she said to me “couldn’t you handle it anymore” and the way she looked at me was as though I wasn’t really far along and was wasting her time coming to the hospital so early. That was just the feeling I got from her. The midwives contacted my obstetrician and said he would be in to see me at about 8pm which was about 3 hrs away. That was ok but that meant that the midwives wouldn’t examine me to see how far I was along so I was still a bit in the dark as to if I had got anywhere. When I had been to see my doctor for the last time he did a stretch and sweep and estimated that I was about 3 cm dilated so I was thinking I would be at least 7cm or so by the time I got to the hospital. We turned the TV on and paced around when I was offered gas. Because I was so far overdue I hadn’t really read up on pain relief and drugs. I’d gone in to labour with the attitude that I would have whatever I needed to get through it and to even be prepared to have a caesarean as I believed that this was something that I would not be able to control and who knew what would happen and how I would cope or manage with the pain. To me it was totally the unknown so I was prepared to do and have whatever it took to get me through.

I decided to use the gas and the midwife established that I was a good candidate for pethidine which I wasn’t immediately administered with. The midwife came in and said I should lie down and that I would not be able to handle the pace of walking around and standing as I had been for the duration. She put me lying on my side with 2 pillows in between my knees and 2 pillows between my ankles. I felt this was very restrictive but I went along with it. Not long after that I heard a loud ‘pop’ and just felt this huge and magnificent release of fluid gush out. “My waters just broke” I just screamed out to my husband. “Go and tell them”. I knew this was big…this was what they wanted from me. The midwife came back and they completely stripped me of my clothes then and said that they might now examine me before my doctor arrived. Finally I thought!!!! All of this work since seven o’clock this morning, now I would finally know where I was at. The midwife estimated me to be at 7 cm dilated which I was very happy with and not long after that my doctor arrived. “Finally my doctor is here” I was thinking, but again I was so far gone by this stage that I didn’t even care when he arrived. He told me later that he thought he would be back at 1 or 2 in the morning but that once he’d seen me he knew he’d be staying to deliver my baby. He then examined me and said I was about 6 cm. I didn’t understand how the midwife could say I was 7 but he thought I was 6, was it possible to go backwards?

Now it’s about 8.30pm and my doctor administered me with pethidine and something for nausea that can be a side effect of the pethidine. I never once felt ‘sick’ during my labour…never queasy or nauseous which was good. I didn’t think that the pethidine did much but my husband said that I was a bit more sleepy during contractions after the injection so who knows. I was obviously too far gone to notice any difference in pain by this stage. I’m not sure how long had passed by this time but it didn’t feel like it was very long but I felt a strong feeling of pressure in my bowel. I had had this feeling for quite a lot of the later labour and when I mentioned it to the midwife earlier she said that was the baby’s head and that was it. This time when I said it she said that I needed to push. I still thought I was only 7 cm and that it would be a few more hours before I needed to push and I sort of felt that mentally I wasn’t ready to push and I didn’t know how. They told me to push but without really giving me any instructions how to do it…it was a strange sensation. They kept telling me to stop using my energy through my voice on the push which was just so absurd to me as the pain I was in required me to verbalise and I didn’t understand what they meant about me using energy through screaming when I needed to use it on the push. After about half an hour of pushing they asked if I would like a mirror. I remembered a friend saying how much that helped her so I said to go for it. It was such a big help as I could see my baby’s head and the opening stretching with each push. I could put more energy into the actual push, it was great. After about 45 minutes the head was completely out and everyone was yelling at me to look at it in the mirror but I had nothing left. I couldn’t lift my head to see and I didn’t really want to either. It was nearly a feeling of nothing else when the whole body came out and they put my baby boy on my chest. All I could do was look at him and think “Thank God that’s over” when I asked my husband what did we have and he told me a boy. I had 3 stitches from a tear and my baby boy weighed 4 kilos or 8 pounds and 13 ounces and he was 52 cm in length with a head of black hair.

We named him Ben Julian and he is now 4 months old. He is the image of his Dad, nothing at all like me and he is a wonderful baby. He was sleeping through the night at 4 weeks old and he’s the best thing I have ever done. I look at him and I feel so proud of myself. I’m proud that my body made such a perfect thing and so proud of myself of the birth.

Epidurals

2008-02-02T20:38:00.000+13:00

Great post over at The Human Pacifier today. I urge you to go and have a read. I agree that epidurals do have their place in the birthing world, but this article outlines a number of the reasons I had for vehemently chosing NO for any analgesia during birth.

I don't judge people for choosing pain relief.. birth IS painful. Seriously, your birth.. your choice. I do however, believe that birth works best WITHOUT drugs. And that's what I chose for my births so far. It makes me sad when people say 'go for the drugs!' and make a big joke out of it.. because most of them do not have enough knowledge in this area to make a truly informed decision / advice.

Yes the drugs may help with the pain, but what about the intervention that often follows... did you want that too? That episiostomy, forceps, ventouse, c-section, sick baby? Did you realise that you were increasing your chances of a birth like that with accepting pain drugs? I just worry that people don't know this. I worry that the side effects are skimmed over in birth education classes.

Yeah it hurt, but it also felt powerful, amazing.. it felt like birth! I felt my babies being born, and I'm so happy about that!

(Of course I know there are exceptions to the drugs = interventions, etc).

And this is why I birth at home!

2008-02-01T08:33:00.000+13:00

I just read the most anger inspiring piece of writing, it made me feel sick to my stomach. Thanks to Mama midwife madness for posting the link.

Read it and weep, here (literally!).

This just makes me stand stronger in my home birth shoes.

Award..

2008-01-31T08:49:00.000+13:00

I just saw this on Corin's birth blog The Human Pacifier.. an award for excellence. Thank you so much Corin, you're very sweet! I'm glad there are people appreciating a collection of birth stories :-)

Nevaeh's birth story

2008-01-31T08:28:00.000+13:00

...Nevaeh Rose
27 February 2007..
by Mum Hannah

Nevaeh was born at home on Tuesday 27 February 2007. She is my 2nd child, but 1st home birth and in comparison to my son’s birth, this one was so much better.

My pregnancy went mostly well, I didn't enjoy the physical demands of it, but certainly seen it as a blessing. I was eating well and I felt absolutely fine, just a little tired now and then. After the 28 week bloods, we discovered I was anaemic. My midwife did not feel too comfortable to provide birth care at home and she mentioned risks associated with low iron levels. I started straight away on a liquid iron supplement, taking double the recommended dose, and went out and bought lots of iron and vitamin C rich foods. I thought I felt better and had a bit more energy, but after the 36 week blood test, the result was still exactly the same! My body obviously didn't take to this particular supplement. I was absolutely gutted. And I now only had a couple of weeks to get the levels up. So I tried another supplement, this time a tablet form, and again doubled the dose. I also started taking molasses. I had the final blood test at 39 weeks. In just 3 weeks it had gone up 10 units… "HOORAY!"

Just a few days later, I went to bed as usual and got a couple of hours sleep. At about midnight I got up to go to the toilet. I went back to bed and started getting quite sore and uncomfortable deep in my pelvis. It’s hard to explain because it felt kind of crampy, and was coming and going, but it wasn't contractions. If this were my 1st baby I probably would've thought it was contractions. At the last ante natal visit, baby still had not engaged, so I was pretty sure that’s what was happening, she was moving down. I couldn’t sleep, but stayed in bed and tried to. The most comfortable position I could find was being crouched over on my knees and forearms with lots of pillows. Eventually I dozed off.

In the morning, Jim went off to work quite early as usual, and I took Kian to school. I'd just got home and.. "wow, what was that? Was that a contraction?" hmmm…? So I stood around, by myself, waiting to see if another one came... and it did, about 10 minutes later. And then another. "Well maybe today’s the day," I thought.

We needed a few things from the supermarket, so off I went, stopping in at Community Birth Services to see if a pool was ready yet and to tell Aileen that I thought I was in early labour as she was my support person. We were planning to have my Mum at the birth too, (she lives in Taupo – 3 hours away) so I was texting her whilst browsing around in the supermarket. The contractions were still about 10 minutes apart, lasting about 10-20 seconds and were quite mild. But by the time I got half way round Pak n Save, I was having to pause, lean on the trolley and breathe. Mum called me back while I was heading back to the car... "Hurry up and get home! Hurry up and ring Jim and your midwife! I've gotta get the brakes fixed before I can come down."

Well I didn't go straight home, I needed decent batteries for the camera. So I stopped in at Dick Smiths and had a contraction there too. I think the retail guy (who is one of Jims mates!) was freaking out a little.

I got home and rang Jim, he was 20 minutes out of town. Then I lay on the couch and rang my midwife. I said I didn't need her yet but I just wanted to let her know what was going on. I was finding it hard to relax, when the contractions came I just seemed to tense up. When Jim arrived home, we went straight down to get the pool. We then went to pick Kian up from school as having him there was really important to me too. It was getting quite intense now, and I couldn't make it all the way to Kians classroom, so Jim went ahead and I leaned on the trees. That was really nice.

Once we got home I took some rescue remedy, and lay on the couch again to watch Jim and Kian set up the pool. Lying on the couch was no good, so I tried a few different positions. I realised this labour was going quite quickly. I was still tensing up during a contraction, like I was trying to resist it, knowing full well that I just needed go with it. I rang Aileen and asked her to come over. I also rang my midwife back and asked her to come. I thought the contractions were only lasting a few seconds but apparently they were about a minute long. I couldn't wait for the pool so I went and ran myself a bath.

Being in the bath felt really good, the warmth of the water took the edge off the contractions, it just wasn't big enough. Aileen arrived soon after, and massaged my shoulders which was bliss. I think Jim felt a lot better having someone else there too. Mum rang while I was in the bath and she was on her way. Kian kept coming in and asking if I was OK, and Jim was still sorting out the pool. He was rushing because he knew I wanted a water birth. I felt sorry for him as he'd never seen the pools before and had had no time to read over the instructions or practice setting it up. I'm not sure when, but my waters must've broke while in the bath. It was getting hard and twice I said "I can't do it!"

My midwife arrived and I asked her to check my cervix, despite saying a few weeks ago that I really didn't want any V.E's. I just needed to know that all this work wasn't for nothing and I felt like I was almost ready to push. The second midwife arrived too. There was a lull with the contractions for a while - they weren't lasting as long and they weren't as strong as before. By now the water was getting cold and I was fed up not being able to move enough in the bath. "I'm going to my room now," I announced, "and I'm going to start pushing soon too."

I got to my room and my midwife checked me. I was so relieved when she said I was fully dilated. Jim gave up on the pool and came into our bedroom. I got into a kneeling position over our bed and asked Aileen to show Jim how to press on my sacrum. Once I started pushing I really needed to concentrate. I had Jim on one side, Aileen on the other and the two midwives behind me, all of them encouraging me. I asked if Kian was in the room and someone said he was. I was feeling baby move down with each push, then slip back up once I stopped. I was getting frustrated with this and tried to push for as long as I could. The midwives said the slipping back is a good thing as it allows the birth canal and perineum to stretch slowly.

I asked for a hot flannel for my perineum and a hot water bottle for my lower abdomen. A few pushes later and my midwife asked if I'd like to feel babys head. It felt weird and I didn't like it but I'm glad I did reach down to feel. Jim didn't want to catch our baby, he just wanted to hold my hand. Her head was soon born, and then her body. And there was a lot of blood. She was passed to me and I was trying to see if she was a girl or boy. I was pretty overwhelmed! I had wanted a physiological third stage but blood kept gushing so my midwife clamped the cord, the second midwife gave me an injection into my thigh and Aileen was feeding me some homeopathic remedies. I felt fine, so happy to be holding my baby girl.

The placenta came out and I was still bleeding heavily, so I was given another injection into my thigh. I really don't like needles but these are really little, just a tiny prick, so I handled them fine. My midwife was rubbing up my uterus and I think they were nearly ready to call the ambulance. The bleeding must've slowed pretty soon after that because they didn't ring the ambulance. Kian had watched the whole thing. I think he was so brave and calm. He watched more than Jim who was apparently looking at the wall most of the time.

I hadn't been to the toilet during the labour and the midwives said I really needed to empty my bladder so my uterus could contract down properly. I sat on the toilet and rang my Mum to tell her the news. She was still an hour away. I couldn't pee so a catheter was suggested and after trying for a little longer, I accepted.

Afterwards I got to crawl into my own bed, with my lovely new girl and her Daddy. And being at home meant her big brother was free to do as he pleased. My mum arrived soon (with the video camera – too late to use it!)

So a few things didn’t go as planned but we still all had a great day. We had great midwives who intervened only when they needed to and our brilliant birthkeeper Aileen whose support was absolutely amazing.

Singing your baby down

2008-01-15T09:22:00.001+13:00

I just saw this beautiful video linked on another birth blog I read, it is probably the most beautiful thing I've seen so far this year in cyber-land.

The Business of Being Born

2008-01-07T18:49:00.000+13:00

The birth community is all abuzz about this movie : The Business of Being Born - check out the trailer.. it looks great!

Anyway, they are now making a book to be a companion for the movie and are asking for submissions. If anyone is interested here is the link.

I've submitted mine :-)

Mia-Rose's birth

2007-12-27T21:42:00.000+13:00

“There is a secret in our culture. It’s not that childbirth is painful, it’s that women are strong.”

It starts out as a chuckle. I am sitting up in bed, awake. Moments before this my sleep was deep and still, a rarity these days. The chuckle turns to laughter. The image of my friend Amy, buck naked in her new boyfriend’s kitchen, sleepwalking, is in my mind. My laughter increases to a level of uncontrollable as I imagine her yelling, “Come and get it everyone! Time to eat”! Her hands and boobs covered in sticky sweet BBQ sauce, her long brown strands of her hair stuck to the rib she is eating. Amy told me this true story the other day. Her boyfriend Barry woke up to find her sleep walking, in the kitchen, her body half in the refrigerator, stuffing her face with leftover ribs. The image grows in my head and I am near hysterical laughter—laughter much deeper than the story warranted. Sure, a funny vision, but not this funny. I fight the laughter, I try to make it stop, but it only deepens, leaving me gasping for air. Bill moans and rolls over in bed next to me. I look at the clock. 4 Am. I am laughing so hard my stomach aches and hardens. Laughter leaves my body in exploded bursts, like elephants on a mating call. I am being too loud and it’s too late at night. I want it to stop now. Stop now, I say aloud. I take huge breathes in, relax and then calmly bathe in a moment of silence. The silence passes like a fast car and laughter begins again. It’s reckless laughter. At this point I realize it is not mine. I don’t own this emotion.
I am not even happy. I am tired. I am achy and have spent all night tossing and turning my 186 pound body trying desperately to find a comfortable spot on the six pillows I use as props. I reach over and smack Bill. He groans again, turns to me and this time says, “What is going on? Are you crazy? What’s so funny? I gotta get up in 2 hours”. I smack him again. Tears are coming from my eyes and laughter is shaking my whole body. Thoughts of being committed arise if this laughing doesn’t subside. I bring my feet to the floor and shift my weight to standing. I have to stop fighting it. I have to just let it go. Then it stops. Just like that, except for a couple of little bursts here and there, I am back to my old self. I instantly begin to cry. What a relief. I feel like I lost weight or something. I go into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal and warm milk, my sedative of choice. I cuddle back into bed, belly full, spooning Bill. He curls his feet around mine. I begin to dream. I dream I am at a bottom of an enormous rocky mountain, covered in green moss. I look up and the mountain seems to go on forever. The peaks are gray, stone and jagged. I think about turning and walking away, to head somewhere else. Instead, I climb it. I am even more pregnant in the dream, my belly as large as a boulder. I am barefoot. Rain is pouring down and soaking the moss and I am slipping and sliding all over the place, but I never fall. I get on my hands and knees and dig my nails deep into the earth in order to climb higher and higher. The rain pours over my face, sops my hair and fills my eyes. The rain drops continue to swell and widen. I leap over a crevasse and jump over a cliff. I land on both feet. I climb toward a large brown bear. She’s on all fours and eating some ground, but her eyes are on me, staring. They are large and black and kind. She looks at me knowingly. I ask her if she would do this for me, this journey, this trek. She just continues eating and waves me off with an oversized paw. I move on. Fear fuels me up this mount, higher and higher, and I start to feel like I am falling and immediately I slip and smash my face on a rock but get right up and continue. The earth is slick and feels greased. I struggle. Stopping is not an option. Something was waiting for me at the top. I am high in the sky and the ground below me is gone, there is only a spread of blackness. Somewhere from above me, Bill calls out. Finally I am near the apex, jagged like a saw’s tooth. I hook my bare feet into small hole and grunt up to the final plateau. My arms ach, my fingers broken, yet I am exhilarated. I see only one thing. Standing high into the clouds where the air is pure mist, I see the moon. It’s two feet way from me, large and pregnant with a pale yellow hue. I stand and stare. I am awestruck and in love and am given the insight that mountain tops are subtle. Bill and I wake up early this morning. I gulp down a smoothie and head out to our last visit with the midwives. We’re driving the winding roads up to the top of Mount Washington where she lives and Bill flies over bumps and speeds around curves. I snap at him, ‘watch out and start driving like a human being.’ He looks at me and sighs. Each moment I become testier, nastier. Shelley’s home sits at the hill’s crest and overlooks downtown Los Angeles. I lay on a bed that’s against a wall-length picture window. Outside a hawk flies in circles. Crows travel from treetop to treetop. My midwife puts her hand up me and feels around. Her fingers come out bloody, “Nope. Not quite a centimeter. A bit effaced. You need to go home and drink a glass of wine. Relax. Let this baby come out. Give her a couple days.”* We stop at the store to buy wine on the way home. I climb out of my small red Honda grunting as I lift my weight through the door. I notice my feet. They look like a cave man’s feet. They are huge and puffy and the nails are chipped with a desperate need of a pedicure. They look like my mothers feet. I wore a pair cheap plastic flip-flops in black. It’s so damn hot and sticky feet mixed with the low quality of the shoe had turned my foot a dingy blackish gray color. My stretchy yoga pants are sticking to my inner thighs and crotch. I’m wet with pregnancy and sweat. My shirt is a few inches short of my navel and I exposed the world with a bubble of my child’s form, one perfectly pink stretch mark.

“You look like you’re gonna pop!” A woman in the store says as I pass her. She is obviously too old to remember childbearing days or has never been pregnant, therefore knows not the psychological implications of her comment.
“Twins?” she asks. She obviously does not know the twins etiquette, either. Asking one if they are carrying twins is like asking a woman her age.
“No,” I growl. I’d like to pop her one, I think as my hand reaches back and picks my pants from the crack of my ass. Everything is sticky. My mind is turning evil. I hate people, all of them. This isn’t how I always was. I remember a few weeks ago, a month ago, when I was like a swollen case of walking, talking sunshine. Then I strutted with confidence, ease, grace a smile on my bloated face, glowing with that pregnant thing. The past few days I have felt very, very bad. My neighbor, Elka, a native of India and mother of two boys gave me little advice during this pregnancy. What she did say was, ‘never sit with your legs cross while pregnant’ and when the baby was ‘coming soon, you will feel very, very bad, very angry. Not like all the other time when you felt happy.” This baby must be coming soon. I grab a bottle of wine, making sure it’s more expensive than five dollars and that it’s white. It is well above 100 degrees in the city and just the thought of red wine coated my tongue and throat in fur. In line the check-out person jokes with me. “I can’t sell this to you! You aren’t allowed to drink!” He points to my naked belly. I just stare at him, long and hard, like a cat does when a leashed dog passes them. Ten months earlier I would have smiled big and bright, batted my eyes, sucked in my stomach and flirted. He’s young and pretty hot, tattooed with that scraggly Hollywood hair-do. Today I hate him. He quickly bags my wine and greets the man behind me in line. I waddle out, holding on to my husband, feeling like horrible bitch, like a small monster has taken over my body.
At home I put on my old gray nightgown. I had this one since college days. Almost seven years. It’s worn and comes to my knees with thinning spaghetti straps and a few moth holes. I pour myself a glass of white wine. I fix up my birthing altar. Setting my gray stone statue of Quan Yin on the center of my dresser, I am reminded of my wedding day. Bill and I married in front of that statue just about one year earlier. I am suddenly filled with a cool tingle of love. I am instantly injected with pure euphoria remembering our love has created a person, someone who we will hold very soon, someone to carry on for us. I surround Quan Yin, Great Goddess Mother of Compassion, with candles and some stones I have been collecting– a Rose Quartz for love, a smooth obsidian for fearlessness and Lapis for intuition.
We order in that night. I was done with cooking. I was saving my clean kitchen. I wouldn’t let Bill use it either. Poor guy’s starving. I plan on making a cake during early labor, I read about people who do that. They bake something or have a project, something crafty to do while the contractions start to come. Though I can’t imagine myself calmly going through beginning contractions humming along with the egg beater, I have all the ingredients ready and the kitchen is clean and organized. Tonight we get dinner from Michelangelo’s, the restaurant across the street from us. I order their special chicken, topped with spinach and mozzarella which I will later see floating in the toilet after puking at 5 centimeters dilated. Bill runs out and rent’s some old Soap episodes and the movie, Dog Day Afternoon. We spread out on the futon that’s placed in the living room–an optional birthing site for me. I have one more small glass of wine with some special dark chocolate. About half way through Dog Day Afternoon, although intrigued and entertained by the story-line, I begin to doze off. Somewhere in between sleep and wake I hear Pacino’s character come out of the closet and I wake up again for a few minutes, aware of something, but not sure what. I curl myself up in a ball; my knees are up to my chest and my back against Bill front side. I am totally comfortable for the first time in months. I don’t feel that nagging ache in my hip. My body feels light and easy. I jump up. My mouth falls open.
Bill looks at me, waiting for me to say something. “What time is it?” I ask. “Almost midnight.” “I just felt something. It’s not like before, it different.” “A real contraction?” “I think so.” And then again, like my lower back and lower belly were being squeezed from all direction, it takes over. “Wow. It’s starting. It’s here. Let’s go for a walk.” I get up to my feet and begin looking for my sneakers, a bit frantically. Is this it? Shit, there is no turning back. I stop. It takes over my body again and I shudder. I feel queasy and excited. It is, without a doubt, the start of something big. Bill is still sitting on the floor watching me. “Come on! Let’s go!” He jumps up and turns off the movie. You’re sure?” He asks. I tell him to please make that the last time he asks a question like that. He gets my shoes, puts them on me and ties up my laces.

Walking is good to me. My body is cruising down the sidewalk like riding waves, up and down, smooth and steady. It has a job to do and it’s starting to take over. The thinking straps on my mind loosen and I let go of any unnecessary brain work. I have walked for months now, everyday, it is so familiar. I walked about twenty miles a week during this pregnancy. Even in the summer heat, when I would be sweating down there and my inner-thighs would rub together painfully, chaffing my flesh, I walked as though it were my religion. And now, in labor, I can feel it loosen my hips. It’s keeping my mind still. I walk by Raj’s Liquor store. He has already closed up. I walk by Netty’s, the restaurant on the corner of Silver Lake Boulevard and Effie. It’s that pricey place that makes some really good bread pudding and their pumpkin ravioli is to die for. We walk up the hill to the dog park. I double over with a contraction so strong I get down like a dog to breath through it. I am totally unaware that anybody else besides Bill, who stands guard above me, exists. I hear cars pass and the buzz of distant city voices. They aren’t from my world now. In this moment I am living elsewhere. In the next moment, I get up and complain. I whine. I let my mind judge the pain. I remind myself not to do that. I say out loud that complaining is not invited. The time span in between my contractions is short, too short. It is unlike what they tell you all about early labor in those classes. This was no cake baking time. They are coming on top of one another yet I still am able to have mini-conversations with Bill.

“It’s back labor. It’s like my back is trapped under a dinosaur foot. I don’t know if I can do this,” I doubt out loud and Bill quickly and firmly reminds me that I most definitely can. From this point on I am a believer.

We are walking and walking. I want my contractions stronger and faster. I want my baby now. I walk as fast as I can and let the surges come to me—-strong and filling me up with the most unusual and grateful force. I am on all fours. I’m leaning against Bill. I’m squatting. I am pressing my face into the earth’s dirt of someone’s front yard. I beg out loud for strength. Each time I choose to relax, I open just that much more. I am beginning to understand the process. To take this passage the key is to move freely and then completely relax. And when each contraction is over, I walk, walk, and walk. After an hour we head towards home. I am in the shower. How long have I been in here? Are my socks on? Is this me in this body? I lean into the cold tile and dig my nails into the old grout then catching this tense act, I immediately shake my hands by my side, loosening each finger and my wrists. I open up some almond oil castile Soap. It smells horrible now, thick and sweet. I squirt it against this concrete-hard belly of mine and rub it in. I feel the baby kick and I wince in pain. I get out of the shower, Bill holds my hand. I throw up in the toilet. I puke up dinner. I puke up fear. I puke a bigger opening for my baby to come out of. I go back in the shower. The sound of the water hitting my rock hard stomach was like a tropical storm on sand. I want it to crash against my back, to crack open my flesh and let relief ooze out like warm jelly. I want pressure. I want some pleasure. I am angry, scared shitless, completely fearless. I am excited. I feel full of a warrior’s passion and joy. “There Bill, right there, press hard,” I beg his hand. “No! Not there! Here!” He moves his hand somewhere else. “No! There! There! To the right!” I grab his hand with mine and move it. Not there either. Why does my back feel like it’s splitting in half? I moan loudly. I try to remind myself, as soon as the feeling starts to roll down the hill, to find balance in the pain, to let it pull my lower half down and to allow it to lift my upper half higher up. I somehow find a rather large space of peace and safety right in the middle. I get out of the shower for good and crawl into my bed. “Rest.” Bill instructs. “You need to rest.” My world enters into stillness for a moment. And when the next contraction comes I accept it without sound or movement. I let it move through me while I am motionless. It is by far the strongest, longest and deepest one that I have. “Call my midwife. Please.” I surprisingly remember and desire to be polite. I begin to feel thanks and devotion for his presence. He feeds me carrot soup. A cracker. Some Gator-Aid. “Are you sure?” He asks. I ignore this.
“Call Shelley. Please. Now.” He comes back with the phone and Shelley is at the other end. “Let me hear you breath”, her voice was a reassuring song that hope may live. “Breath through a few contractions for me and let me just listen to you.” I get out of bed, walk into the kitchen and straddle on a wooden chair. The lights from the busy street project against my dark kitchen wall. A cool breeze from the window envelopes my body. The feeling that my baby is squeezing out of me starts right in my center. It moves up and down all at the same time until it is the owner of me and I am just a renter watching this event. I breathe. A few more pass through like a hurricane and I use my breath like the wind to spiral it through. Then there is peace. There is silence. I wait to hear Shelley speak. “You’re doing well. You’re working too hard, though. Your breath is too strong. You’re early yet, save the energy.” “I am not early Shelley.” I am blunt and direct. “This baby is coming soon.”

She sends her assistant over to our apartment. Seannie is petite and Irish with soft, watery blue eyes that match the scrub pants she’s wearing. Seannie birthed three children, the last baby she caught herself with Shelley watching from a distance. Seannie told me she loved child birth, she loved the feeling of her child squeezing and sliding down and opening up her flesh. As she walks into my bedroom, her commuter mug fills the air with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I have a big, bad, heavy contraction, on all fours on my bed as soon as I see Seannie. When it’s over she lifts my nightgown up over my backside, rubs my back a bit with chilly hands. I noticed it was morning as the grayness begins to peek through our rice paper shades. Seannie slides her hand in between my legs and checks me out.
“You’re ten centimeter! You’re there. Do you feel like you have to push?” I don’t feel like it at all. I feel like I have at least a couple more hours. But as soon as I hear her say the word ‘ten’ I yell “Yes! Yes! I want to push!” Of course I want to push this Carlos Rossi wine jug sized human out of my yoni. I want her out and I am ready to bear down this baby. I’ve only been in labor six hours and am feeling very impressed with myself. “I want you to give me some short and consistent breaths while I call Shelley.” She looks at Bill and says she hopes Shelley would make it over for the birth. I hear her on the phone telling Shelley I was open and ready. She jokes about how they should always work with yoga teachers—they labor so quickly. Shelley is in my bedroom in fifteen minutes which means the 110 Freeway was clear, that she caught all green lights on San Fernando Road or she ran the red ones. She checks me. She sighs. I am not fully dilated. I am only half way there. I am five. I can’t let this mess with me. “I’m only half way?” I weakly say, to myself and to everyone else. Bill takes me hand and kisses it in sympathy and encouragement. Seannie apologizes over and over. Shelley gives Seannie a sharp look, a teacher scolding her pupil, and directs her to take me on a long walk. I moan through another contraction and moan at the thought of having to walk. Bill puts on my sneakers for me. Seannie finds some loose pants to put on under my now blood stained–thanks to the mucus plug– nightgown We live in a hill community of Los Angeles. Silver Lake is made up of winding streets with public staircases that go from level to level. It is a botanical covered neighborhood and the air is alive with the smell of ocean and jasmine. I walked these stairs nine months of pregnancy. I lifted my knees high and hiked the city steps as my stomach got bigger and heavy and each step got harder and higher. That morning, Bill, Seannie and I begin our ascent out my back door and up those stairs for a couple levels. We take a right turn when I can’t go any higher and head down Occidental Boulevard. It’s about 6:30 or 7am, I am told, just in time to catch the commuters heading to work. We get some strange looks, to say the least. I guess I can’t blame people. It must be a sight unusual to them. I am large and swaying between a man and women, all three of us linked by arms. I stop every few seconds to moan like a jungle animal, groan and then smile, thanking myself and my baby, knowing my body is doing a good job. One women gives the thumbs up at me and tells me to keep breathing. Seannie glances at her in thanks. Another woman looks horrified and as we stop in front of her driveway and all do an ‘OM” together so loud and long it may have vibrated the ground. Seannie begins to talk about the real estate prices in the neighborhood in between my contractions. This seems totally rude at first, and I am about to ask her to stop, but then I start to hear her like a master- in –training; she is using technique. Her conversation is keeping me focused on the reality of things, the real life of things in between contractions. I am not allowed to judge myself or the pain or take the time to fear the next sensation. And as soon as I need her, she is there, silently guiding me, kneading my back, sending me love. But when it is over, we are back to strolling in an over-priced neighborhood. Bill is a pillar of support, a solid stone in my pocket, the soon to be father of our child. I radiate all four of us some love, as I am filled with a presence of something so grand, as majestic and eruptive as a mountain, something I have never been graced with before, at least not to my recollection. Despite this being out and out painful, or let’s say the hardest job I have ever endured, the first thing on my mind is love and gratitude. Never before has pure pain carried me to such a high ground. There is something that is happening in these contractions that chips away the leftover emotional junk I carry. It’s molding me into a much finer sculpture, lighter with less baggage. It’s forming me into a Mother.

After an hour of walking, it is time to head home. “Let’s see how much magic that walk did.” Shelley says to us as we walk inside. Shelley must have just finished meditating. She’s sitting in zazen on my bathroom floor. She looks lovely to me, a golden master whom I trust. I think how happy I am my baby will be born looking into her face, into Seannie’s face, into mine and Bill’s faces…all faces of sincerity and peace. She looks up to us. “Let’s check you out.”

I am nine centimeter open. I am beginning to spin. I’m tired to say the least, yet I am filling up with an awesome sort of energy; ready and waiting to finish this part of the journey.

I eat a bit, I drink some juice. And then I begin to squat. It’s funny, no matter how many times I glued my feet to the floor, bent my knees, and dropped my hips down into a squat for frog pose while I was pregnant, it did not completely prepare me for this moment. My legs buckle and ache from weakness and fatigue, my feel slide around under my body. I begin the practice of pushing. One belly breath in, deep. Hold. Push. Exhale. Pop. My water breaks all over my bedroom floor. Seannie mops it up quickly. Shelley notices we have the same toe-nail polish one. “Look,” she says to me, “the same color as mine”. Our eyes meet and she smiles. She has the ability to keep things light. “Time to be really powerful, honey,” she whispers as she places a gentle hand on my cheek. I nod. I look at both of our feet. Our toes are practically touching as she is down on the floor, facing me. My polish is chipped, hers are perfectly painted.

I move to the bed and continue what will be the hardest and heaviest journey in my life. My head is pressing up against my headboard. Bill has one leg lifted and wrapped up behind me, Seannie has the other. My feet are almost wrapped behind my head. My arm extends out past my leg and my hand is pressing hard against the wall next to me for some power, some leverage. I push so hard I cry out loud a profanity. I push so hard I begin to feel angry and regret. I push so hard I feel years of childhood fear come up to my throat. I push so hard I feel anger rise up from my organs, anger that has been stored away for decades. I taste all my mistakes and regrets in my mouth and I grunt them out. My chest aches. I have never felt so lonely or cold. I begin to see red and I push even harder. I did not expect this. I didn’t know I would be releasing thousands of years of bodily and emotional oppression. It is somewhat like the first time I tried to stand in Warrior pose for several minutes and I cried as my heart bled out toxins. Pushing is like that, but one million more times difficult. “I am too tired. No more”, I moan. Shelley runs out of the room and is back in a flash with my framed black and white photo of Paramahansa Yogananda. She holds it up for me to see. She gives me a gentle lecture. “Marybeth, look at him. He says there is abundant energy in the Universe. You believe that. Ask for it. Take it in. There is plenty of energy for you. Find it within.” I focus for a moment on that. I feel a surge of light come into my body through my head and I am shocked to find another push in me. “Feel Marybeth! Reach your hand down, feel your babies head. I want you to feel,” Shelley says. I half-heartedly reach my arm down between my legs. My efforts are on pushing, not feeling a head, and I am annoyed at being distracted. But I feel her. My fingers move up through my open yoni and land on squishy, warm, fuzzy flesh. A warm peach, that’s what her head feels like. A baby. A baby human was emerging from me.
My next push is like lightening surging through me. I look down to see a bulge framed by my flesh. I push again and the bulge gets bigger. Seannie rubs my perineum with clothes soaked in warm chamomile infused oils. Another push and a small head squeezes through my skin. One large dark baby eye is opens and looks around the room. Her head resembles a shift in the earth’s plates, uneven and rather square. She is a transparent color of periwinkle blue. She is stunningly beautiful. Her shoulders are broad and stuck. Shelley reaches inside me, what feels like up to her elbows, and helps the baby come down and I gently push. Slipping and slithering and wet, a child is born. A child is born in the same bed she was conceived. This child is upon my chest. I am over myself with joy and exhaustion— and quite honestly—- the promise to myself to never go through anything like that again. We cover the baby in soft blankets and Bill and I lean in and touch heads and wrap ourselves around our new family. We massage her back, waiting for her to cough or cry. We speak to her in small mommy and daddy voices. We say how much we love, how long we have waited. I repeat the word ‘Baby’ over and over again. Shelley lifts up the covers for a split second and Bill says, “It’s a girl!” We always knew she was a girl. I put by nose into her head and smell her mixture of life and the powerful presence of fresh blood. In this gray morning, a misty and mystical marine layer coats the air and naturally dims our room. A small yellow candles flicker and burn the scents of sage and cedar. I can see she has a pink face, the face of a Buddha. Her light hair is fine and her lips are the shape of a rosebud. She still has not cried or taken a big gulp-like breath. I imagine it to be like in the films, where the baby screams instantly. She is wheezing quietly, slightly gasping for air. She doesn’t seem to want to latch on to my breast. Shelley gently lifts her from my arms. She is suctioned some more. No response. She is aspirated. No fluids are coming up, which means her lungs are clear, yet no response. They give her oxygen. My baby’s small hand which is attached to a tiny muscular arm reaches up to the oxygen mask and pushes it away. She does not like it. Shelley laughs. “Give her time. She is fine. Her nail beds are pink and her heartbeat is perfect. She is so strong she is pushing this mask away. Can we give her to daddy for a bit while I take care of you?” Shelley asks me. I am shaking and whimper a yes. I am scared. Is Shelley telling me the truth? Is she okay? Why isn’t she crying? Breathing? Bill takes our swaddled daughter and walks out of the room. I hear him introducing her to the dogs. I hear him bring her into the backyard, introducing her to the world. I birth the placenta. Shelley stitches me up. She assures me my baby would be okay. “She just needs some time.” I remember a teaching of Yogananda’s regarding choosing life. He says when we are born, we consciously choose to take our first breath, acknowledging and accepting that we are leaving the heavenly place we came from and entering an earthly plane where we will live. My daughter is just taking her time, contemplating, making sure here with us is were she is needed.
What seems like hours pass and Shelley is still stitching me. I am aching to nurse my baby and be close with her and just then Bill walks in with her. “She’s doing better. She’s breathing a bit here and there. I think she’s just fine,” he says. The entire pregnancy Bill said that he knew labor would be an intense spiritual lesson for him. I always thought he meant in the usual way labor is. Later I find out that the time he spent with our daughter those moments after her birth were unlike no other for him. He experienced complete selflessness for the first time in his life. He left himself, he says, and gave everything he had to his daughter, in hopes for her to breathe. While he was in deep meditation, holding her, she began taking her first breaths Bill lays her in my arms. Her face is that of an angel. I can see yellow light around her head. Her nose is smushed to one side from the birth canal. Her eyes are open, dark blue and observing me, her mother. I begin to nurse. She still has hard time, but she’s trying—her lips are searching and feeling for me. Her breathing is still irregular, but it exists. “Name her. She wants a name.” Shelley says. Bill and I had debated names for awhile. We just couldn’t agree. She came to me in a dream while I was pregnant and told me her name was Rose. “How about Mia Rose?” Mia was a name we spoke of briefly months before. But it was the first one to come to my head now. We both look at her. Her wide eyes were of a Libras. Libra is ruled by Venus, whose symbol is the five-petaled rose. She smells so sweet. I breathe her in. Bill repeats the name, “Mia Rose.” She takes another breath. She latches on my breast. She begins to suckle. Mia Rose it is.

We sit on the bed and basked in the sun of our creation. It is a godly feeling to make a human. It is even more so to birth one. But to hold one, so new and pure, is beyond godly: it is God. My oldest sister, a first born daughter walks into our room with my mother, a first born daughter as well, to meet Mia Rose, another first born daughter. I look at my mom and tell her I never knew until this moment how much she loved me.
That night Mia slept between Bill and me. Despite being up for twenty-four hours laboring, I stay awake for most of this night as well and just stare at her, watching her chest rise and fall, her eyelids flutter, her small hand tightly squeezing my finger. “Welcome to your first night on Earth, Mia. Thank you so much for coming.” I whisper in her ear. It wouldn’t be the first time I thank her for coming to me. It wouldn’t be the first I stay up all night to stare at my daughter’s miraculous face.

Notes *In no way did my midwife ever encourage me to drink alcohol during my pregnancy. She knew that particular day that I was stressed and really wanted to labor to begin. She thought one glass of wine would do just the trick to relax me and let labor begin. I was about 4 days overdue and getting bigger by the second….and wine is a lot gentler than castor oil!

Visit this story at it's original post here!

Bumper stickers

2007-12-21T08:47:00.000+13:00

So I decided recently that since we have the apple sticker on the car, and the darwin fish sticker, that I'd like a homebirth sticker to go with them. The older my kids get, the more proud I am of my home birth & my ambulance birth (lol - but was just like a home birth... no intervention, no drugs).

So I'm trying to find a good one. I found this one which nearly made me cry. If midwifery wasn't the norm in New Zealand, I'd totally buy one.

The search continues..

Julian's Birth

2007-11-30T20:57:00.000+13:00

Julian Emerson’s birth story

Recorded on Nov. 29 and Dec. 11, 2006

My labor began around 1:30 a.m. Thursday, Nov. 23, 2006, (41 weeks to the day) when I woke up to a real contraction, not the typical toning contractions I’d been having for the past several months. This was the night after I went in for some serious acupuncture (with electronic stimulation) at the acupuncture college to bring on labor. I was excited when I had another and yet another contraction and it started to sink in that I was in early labor.

I mentioned that I thought I was in early labor to Jody when he came to bed around 2 a.m. He got me my HypnoBirthing Rainbow Relaxation c.d. sometime during the night and I listened to it with my headphones on to help me stay focused and relaxed. I went through most of the night sleeping in between contractions. When I did have one, I breathed through it and reflected on something I’d read on a Mothering.com message board. One mama said that each time she had a contraction, she thought of her body giving the baby a big hug. That thought made me smile when I read it and so I focused on all the hugs my body was giving my baby for the last time while he was in utero.

I woke up a bit before 9 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day (Nov. 23). Jody and Ava were still sleeping. I continued to have contractions though they weren’t really regularly spaced. I decided to go have some breakfast and watch TV. I had some yogurt, peanut butter toast and Pregnancy Tea and watched a bit of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade while I breathed through contractions. I found the TV to be a bit distracting so I turned it off and mostly lay on the couch. When I got up and moved around, my contractions picked up, but while I laid on the couch, they slowed down a bit. I was feeling pretty tired so I decided that hanging out on the couch was a good thing for now, to save up my energy for when I really needed it.

I called K, my midwife, around 10 a.m. and told her that I was in labor and what was going on with me. She said to check in every few hours – like around 1 p.m. – and let her know how I was doing. She also said she would probably come by to check on me later in the day and take my blood pressure and draw my blood so she could make sure that all was going well with me and there were no signs of HELLP syndrome (which I developed when in labor with Ava). In the meantime, she said I should go eat a big breakfast.

Jody came downstairs (and Ava soon after) and made eggs, turkey bacon and toast. I didn’t feel much like eating, but it tasted good and I slowly ate it all.

After breakfast and watching some of the parade on TV with Ava, I was still feeling really tired, so I decided to go back up to the bedroom and take a nap. That was around noon.

Before I went to sleep, I briefly talked to my sister Carrie on the phone and told her I was in early labor, but I had no idea if the baby would be born that day or when. I just wanted to give her a heads-up since she was planning on being here during the labor (once we needed her) and birth to watch Ava.

Again, I slept between contractions while I napped, but somewhere in that hour or so that I lay in bed, my contractions shifted significantly. They started to get very intense and I had to start vocalizing (or moaning) to get through them. I called out to Jody and told him that things were getting really intense and right around then the phone rang and Jody answered it. It was K (midwife) saying she was on her way by to see how things were going with me. Jody mentioned that it was good she was coming because I had just said that things were getting intense. (I later figured out that I must have been in “transition” during that time.)

I don’t recall if I asked Jody to apply counter-pressure to my back around that time or if he just instinctively did it, but it helped a lot to relieve the back labor I was experiencing.

K arrived around 1:10 p.m. She took my blood pressure, which was normal. (She never got a chance to draw my blood, but it turned out not to matter.) Then I had another contraction which I vocalized through and told her that it really hurt. She wanted to check me then to see how dilated I was. I was thinking that I hoped I was at least 5 cm dilated so that I could get into the birthing pool (which hadn’t been set up yet) or this was going to be a very, very long labor. I can’t remember if she said I was fully dilated when she checked me (though she later told me that I was complete), but she commented that the head was still really high. She felt around a bit more and then excused herself. (I found out later that that was when she discovered what she was feeling was limbs and that the baby was now breech. She excused herself so she could call A, the assisting midwife, and tell her to get to my house ASAP.)

K came back in the room and whispered to Jody that she had felt feet while she was checking my dilation. He didn’t quite realize what that meant at the time. At some point he said something aloud about the baby’s feet, which I heard and replied “feet??” (although I don’t remember this). And K said yes, the baby is breech, which I remember. I didn’t have any weird reaction to this news. I thought I remembered reading stories of babies being born vaginally in the breech position in “Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth,” so I knew it could be done. I wasn’t fearful at all. It was all just very matter of fact in my mind – the baby is breech and I’m going to have to get him out.

Somewhere in there, Jody called Carrie (three times) to come to the house. The last time he talked to her, she said she would be here in 20 minutes, but Jody said at the rate things were going that might be too late. So in the meantime, Ava hung out with me, K and Jody in the bedroom. She never seemed scared or worried for me and I think it helped a LOT that we had watched birth videos and read the “Welcome With Love” book (about a home birth) many times in preparation for the birth. In the book they mention that sometimes moms have to yell and scream and make a lot of noise when babies are born and I am thankful that it said that since I ended up making a LOT of noise myself – something I didn’t expect because I never got vocal while giving birth to Ava. At one point, K asked Ava if she could go downstairs and get her purse for her. Ava did it without missing a beat. She was a great helper.

Anyway, I think it was after K left the room to call A that I felt the first urge to push. It was a completely involuntary urge and I yelled out “I need to push!” I remember K yelling back to go with whatever my body was telling me to do. I think it was on the next contraction or the one after that that my water broke – all over the bed. I had not planned on giving birth in bed, and because things had progressed so quickly at the end, we hadn’t even put a waterproof cover down. I remember thinking – Oh no! I’m soaking our new mattress! (Our mattress was only six months old. Thankfully, it cleaned up and dried out nicely.)

The baby’s feet were born first without too much pushing on my part. Jody left the room during that time and I yelled to K, “Where is he going?!” furious because he was no longer applying counter-pressure to my back. She said, “He’s getting the camera.” And I yelled, “I don’t care about pictures!” He did snap a few of the baby’s feet coming out, but only one turned out because K’s hand was in the way of the others.

Jody called the professional photographer we hired to photograph the birth around the time I started pushing, but got her voicemail. By the time she called back, the baby had been born. (We opted to have her take family pictures a few weeks later instead.)

Carrie arrived after his feet were born and took Ava downstairs since things were very intense in the bedroom.

After his feet and legs came out, K said I needed to move to the end of the bed, so that gravity would be on our side. I said, “No” emphatically, not wanting to move a muscle. K said I *had* to move, so she and Jody picked me up and scooted me to the foot of the bed. She then told Jody that we needed to get into a supported squat position, so he held me under my arms while I began to bear down with everything I had.

I started out pushing with contractions, but it didn’t take long for K to say she wanted me to push whether I was having a contraction or not. I’ve heard enough birth stories to know this meant that I needed to get the baby out ASAP, so I pushed and pushed, taking breaks just long enough to catch my breath.

While his body was being born, A (the assisting midwife) arrived.

I don’t remember birthing him as being painful per se, but it was really, really intense work. I vocalized through every push and couldn’t imagine doing it without making noise. I think I opened my eyes once and then closed them again so I could focus on pushing. I also remember moving my right hand to the top of my belly. It helped me feel more connected with the baby and the job we both were working on.

Once his body was born (but his head still inside me), at K’s urging I pushed with everything I had to get his head to come out. I remember wondering if I was pushing enough or if I would be able to do it, but his head emerged with one really hard push.

Our son, Julian Emerson, fully entered the world at 2:14 p.m. Thursday, Nov. 23, 2006, after about 13 hours of labor, only one of which was really intense, and about 45 minutes of pushing. It was approximately 1 hour after K had arrived to our house.

It turned out that Julian’s umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck three times. It is for that reason, my midwife and I believe, that he ended up turning into a breech position in the days or hours before he was born. It was as if he “knew” he couldn’t safely be born head-down with the cord as it was, so he flipped to a safer position – in an act of self-preservation.

Also, I later learned that his right arm was tucked back behind his head and K had to reach inside me and pull it down so that he could be born without damaging it or getting stuck. She also reached in while his feet were being born to make sure they both came out together and one didn’t get wedged in.

Julian scored a measly 3 on his first Apgar, then an 8 on the second one done 5 minutes later. A gave him a few puffs of air mouth-to-mouth to help get him breathing, while they encouraged us to talk to our baby. It didn’t take long for him to start breathing, and in the meantime, he was still getting oxygen from the umbilical cord that was left attached to the placenta until it stopped pulsing. Jody and Ava cut the umbilical cord together a little over an hour after he was born.

Julian weighed in at 9 lbs., 8 oz., was 22 inches long, and had a 15 inch head. What a big boy!

After the intensity of that birth and such a large baby, I ended up with only a first-degree tear, requiring four stitches. Not bad at all.

Giving birth to a baby in the breech position felt so different from birthing a head-down baby (as Ava was). With Ava, once her head was out, it felt like the rest of her just slid right out. With Julian, I felt like I had to work for every ounce of him to be born – saving the hardest part – his head – for last.

It was an amazing, incredible and very intense experience, but, if you ask me, it could not have turned out more perfectly. We have so much to be thankful for. We have a healthy baby boy and I had a great home birth with our amazing midwife. It is a Thanksgiving Day our family will never forget!

Click here to visit the story, as originally posted, with beautiful photos!

Home Birth Awareness slogans

2007-11-30T08:23:00.000+13:00

I just found this great post through Corin's birth blog. I love it!

Shamelessly, copied and pasted from the above blog:

Birth - every home should have one

Save hospital beds for sick people - have a homebirth

Home Made, Home Birthed, Home Grown

HOMEBIRTH - Sacred and Safe

For Safety Choose a Midwife

Better Birth begins at Home

Conceive at home? Birth at home!

Stay-at-home birther

Drugs in birth? Just Say No!

Induction? Just Say No!

Birth pool hire $50.00, scented candle $10.00, new roll of film $6.00, homebirth PRICELESS

Vaginas, they're not just painted on

Birth is not a Disease

Midwives for Birth! Doctors for Disease!

women give birth, pizzas are delivered

homebirth IS the safe option

I was born to birth.

Birthing Goddess

Homebirth. Just do it.

Home Sweet Homebirth

Homebirth. The Thinking Woman's choice.

Made with Love at Home, Arrived with Love at Home

Home is Where My Birth Is

James' birth

2007-11-09T10:12:00.000+13:00

Due to being 2 weeks overdue, I was admitted to hospital for
an induction on the 2nd of October - the postnatal ward was
so busy the Midwife had to check they could go ahead. eek I
so didnt want to go home. But all was fine, and the Midwife
and oncall OB came in and administerd the gel at 8.35, Carlo
and I wandered around the hospital a bit in the hopes things
would get moving, I started feeling mild contractions, and
when they put me on the CTG at 2pm I was having mild
contractions every 2 mins. They decided I was contracting
too often to give me more gel and I would have to wait till
morning to recieve any more... and they couldnt break my
waters because my cervix was still closed.
When we realised things werent speeding up I sent Carlo home
for the telly - I so didnt
want to miss Outrageous fortune when I wasnt even in proper
labour!
At 6.15 I had a show - and from there my contractions became
stronger. I had another VE at 7.45 and my cervix was still
closed. She said she would see me in the morning..
I had a bath at 8pm but that seemed to stop the
contractions, so I got out again, After outrageous fortune I
decided to have a nap and we decided DH would stay a bit
longer, cos I didnt want to call him back again (and he had
a comfy laZboy)
I woke at 12.00 with a proper contraction! at last something
was happening the contractions were finally lasting a minute
and were definately painful. DH ran the bath for me again
and I hung out in there for an hour or so, I tried to get
out of the bath a few times, but wasnt coping with the gap
between contractions, so back I went. DH was worried about
me and found the hospital midwife who told me nothing was
happening and to get back in the bath. I was able to rest
really well in between contractions in the bath, and even
fell asleep a few times!
AT 3am I asked Carlo to get the Midwife but again the
hospital midwife arrived, felt my tummy during a contraction
and told me I was hours away - I was so disappointed and
quite scared at this point.
I stayed in the bath till 5am when I told Carlo to go and
ring my Midwife and I wasnt taking no for an answer - I
wanted an EPI!! Midwfie arrived about 6am, and I was really
scared she would tell me nothing was happening - but instead
I was 5-6cm dilated. I decided to try the gas first and she
broke my waters. They were full of meconium (old stuff she
thought) which meant I needed to stay attached to the CTG
and the bed. I was offered an EPI at this point but the gas
was SOOO good I declined.
At 8.30 the OB checked me and suggested syntocnin because
although I was having good contractions, there were quite
large gaps between them,and the baby's heartrate kept
dropping (although it kept recovering very well also!) at
9am I was ready to push! finally.
At 10.30 I was still pushing, and although we were making
progress, they were getting concerned about bubs heartrate
which continued to drop and recover so they set up the
ventouse equipment and then bubs recovered and they decided
to wait and see.I continued pushing and things were going ok
- time flew really and about 12.00 they again thought they
would need to do the ventouse and again decided to wait and
see! in the end I almost begged them to do it - the OB asked
me how I was feeling - EXHAUSTED - 3 hours of pushing!! and
all on 1 hours sleep. so off they went - it involved an
episiotomy and was bloody painful. I threw the gas away at
this point - just couldnt concentrate on breathing it in,
kept exhaling instead, so at this point I screamed instead!
that felt good.
At 12.32 on the 3rd of October, out he came - little James
Anthony weighing in at 9lb2oz, 54 cm long and with a 39cm
head. I was on cloud 9 the second they passed him to me!
then they took him to check agpars 9,10,10 so all good and
time to celebrate! James was really alert straight away and
was lifting his head up to look around.

oh and the best bits - the gas, the lemonade popsicle
between pushes and the baby in my arms! And the worst -
stirrups! yuk.

Beautiful, beautiful! Made me cry..

2007-09-10T19:13:00.000+12:00

The Birth of Grey Forest Walt

2007-09-08T17:11:00.000+12:00

This is a beautiful story of a baby birthed naturally, outdoors. Just gorgeous!

Click here to read.

Kysen's birth - A Surrogacy Story

2007-08-21T08:50:00.000+12:00

This is Kylee's story of the birth of her surrogate son, who she carried, incubated, grew, and birthed for her friends who could not have another child together for medical reasons. Such an amazing thing to do for a couple!

Had a normal day - sunday at mum's for lunch altho thinking back now i guess it was quite unusual that i wasnt very hungry and i was really quite lethargic not to mention short on temper actually i spent all of sunday afternoon screeching at the kids like i was a mad woman (sorry kids mummy does love you).Went to bed early to put my feet up to watch TV and turned off everything and slept at 10.30.Woke up at 11.30 with a shocking lower back ache and the worst heartburn you could imagine!! so i got up for a wee and noticed the tiniest streak of blood on the paper but didnt get my hopes up and went back to bed.Was so excited thinking maybe this was really it (keep in mind ive never spontaniously gone into labour,had a show or had my waters rupture) i couldnt sleep and was having niggles and needing to wee every 20 mins or so.Finally at 2 i went and woke ben and said i felt unwell and maybe the baby was coming and he made me a cup of tea and we watched some stupid haunted house thing in my room till 3 but as i had no regular contractions i told him to go back to bed as i didnt think the baby would ever come.3.30 i got up yet again for a wee and YAYYYYYYY i had a small show so back to tell ben that yes baby was coming today and we needed to finish packing my bag and that we would wake the children and drive to stratford birthing centre when my contractions regulated as i didnt want to wake all the familys involved (how considerate of me) .By 4 my contractions were regular and 8-10 mins apart so i woke the kids and loaded everyone up the van for our drive and got ben to ring mum to tell her it was happening.Got to mums and the contractions were still regular but not at all painfull but yippeeee my waters broke lol just a little gush with every contraction so at ten to five mum rung the babys parents to tell them to come on in they would have a new son by the end of the day.Mum rung the midwife and told her i was now 5 mins apart and she suggested we move over to the unit due to my usually very quick births,of course we couldnt go there tho untill i had a chocolate bar and mum bought smokes so off to the all night garage first lol what a sight we must have looked all crammed in mums rav4.Got to the birthing unit and contractions were still easy.Babys parents arrived and slowly my contractions got steadily stronger and by 6.30ish i was really feeling them so with mum and babys mums assistance i had a shower (quite funny really as we were laughing at the fact i had to remove my fanny piercing before birthing),the shower helped put me into a good established labour and i felt the urge to get onto the bed.After what felt like forever those contractions hit me hard,i was so scared as the pain was like nothing i had felt before and i wanted to stay calm for my childrens sake but OMG i couldnt as i was pushing my little heart out and that baby just wasnt budging,i remember screaming that he was stuck and everybody telling me to push harder but i was just so bloody tired and seriously it was breakfast time and i couldnt understand why the midwife wouldnt let me stop and have some LOL.Finally after what seems like forever i felt the baby crowning and i felt him jam on my wee hips and pelvis and to make it worse i crapped myself (oh the shame of it) i kept pushing but his head just wasnt moving and the pain got so bad i saw my life flash before my eyes.With some assistance from my midwife finally his head was out but i was tired now and honestly didnt understand why the midwife wouldnt just pull him out (i asked her nicely) but with all my might i got his shoulders out and it was welcome to the world baby!!!!! his mum caught him but then he was chucked onto my tummy by the midwife and a sheet put over him i was sitting there thinking hang on this wasnt the plan,i dont want him.I lifted the sheet and saw he was blue and purple and i was thinking OMFG hes dead,after close to a minute and alot of slaps finally he cried and i was so relieved.His dad cut his cord and baby was given to me and i was told *here kylee give your baby to his mum* ,I must say handing that screaming huge bundle of baby to his mum was the most surreal thing you could imagine,she was crying and shaking so much she could barely take him from me she kept repeating thankyou over and over and the look of love and understanding she gave me will forever be imprinted on my mind.Our stay at the unit was nice,day 1 was great and the parents friends and family spoilt me rotten,day 2 i had a few tears but nothing major.Day 3 saw me standing outside at 3.20am in the cold sobbing where nobody could hear me,erratic thoughts running through my mind and the urge to go and get that baby out of his crib and run away with him was so strong that i went inside and sought out the company of the night nurse,all i wanted was to hold my baby and tell him that i love him.Day 4 was goodbye day and i woke feeling blue knowing i was saying goodbye not goodbye forever but i knew from that day on i would no longer be his mum,i avoided holding him and just watched him till mum arrived to collect me.I packed my stuff and told mum ok its time to go now and stood in my room looking thru to his room where he was sleeping and realised i just couldnt say goodbye and then i broke down infront of everybody and that was the last thing i wanted to do,i knew when i was carrying him it would be hard but this was torture i was leaving the unit without my 4th child,my 4 day old son!.Walking out those doors is the hardest thing i have ever done.Everyday his parents thank me for giving them the child that they would never have had but everyday i thank them for trusting me to grow and nurture their child in my womb.This has been an amazing experience for myself and my family and friends and yes i would do it again in a heartbeat,it was a hard birth and has been hard on me mentally but thats 2 small negatives out of the billions of positives i have gained,my family has extended greatly and hey ive got a baby i dont have to get up with in the night or change crappy nappies lol.

Kellie's birth

2007-08-06T19:08:00.000+12:00

I was booked in to have some professional photos taken of my 38 week pregnant belly at 7.30pm on Thursday 26th July 2007, so I started getting ready at 6.00pm. I did my make-up and was in the middle of blow-drying my hair in the bathroom when I felt a warm gush in my pants and knew that it was my waters breaking. It was about 6.15pm, and I was 38 weeks 1 day pregnant. I moved quickly towards the toilet and called out excitedly to Jonny and we stood staring at each other in disbelief that this was actually going to happen. I also had my bloody show whilst on the loo, and started to have a bit of diarrhoea. Jonny called to cancel the photography session, and also the plumber who was booked in for the following morning.

I quickly realised that all my toiletries and overnight things that I would need for the hospital were at my parents place because I had been staying there during Jonny’s graveyard shifts, as I was nervous about going into labour while he wasn’t there. So we decided to go and get some takeaways for dinner and pop into mum and dads to pick up my overnight gear. They were surprised and excited to see us, and we sat together watching the final of Greys Anatomy and I finished knitting the final three rows of my baby-blanket. Contractions started while we were at mum and dads but were only very minor, and the diarrhoea continued. We started writing the times down anyway, and I lost my mucous plug just before 9pm.

When we arrived home I took two Panadol and hopped into bed, thinking I might as well try and get some sleep before we needed to go to the hospital. Because I had previously tested positive for group b strep, we knew that no matter where I was at with contractions, I would need to be at the hospital by 6am to have IV antibiotics.

By 11.15pm I started writing down the timings of the contractions again as I could feel things really picking up pace. By 11.33 I was on my hands and knees rocking my hips through the contractions, which were lasting 40-45 seconds and coming between three and six minutes apart. Not long after midnight Jonny decided to ring the hospital to find out when I should consider coming in for the IV antibiotics, even though I wasn't quite at the point the midwife had indicated (3-5 mins apart and lasting for a minute). It turned out that my midwife was already there for another delivery, so we went straight in. The time was 12.32am. I only had a couple of contractions in the car, and was beginning to wonder if the labour had stopped. At one stage I noticed Jonny was driving in a 50km zone at about 80km an hour and I thought that we would have a good excuse if we were stopped by the Police.

On arrival at the Te Henga ward at Waitakere Hospital, I was admitted and put on the CTG monitor for 20 minutes and told I was only in early labour and to expect a long night. I had to stay flat on my back for the CTG monitoring and I found this much more uncomfortable than being able to go on my hands and knees. I did try to turn over whilst still on the monitor but it stopped picking up the baby’s heartbeat so I had to go back on my back. I threw up at 1.30am.

My midwife, Frann, was attending another delivery so it seemed to take forever before she came in to see me. She put the antibiotic in at 3am after 2 failed attempts at finding a vein, and then she went home to try and get some rest. The student midwife, Kylie, popped in a couple of times as well, but she also went home to get some sleep. The hospital midwife, Denise, took over my care and pretty much left me to it, only popping in once or twice to give me a heat pack and check how things were going. At some stage she also told me how to breathe properly through the contractions which was a great help. Before she left Frann had said I could have some pethidine if I wanted it and I remember asking Jonny at one stage when they were going to offer me gas, but no-one ever did.

By 4am I was incredibly uncomfortable and felt a lot of pressure to push, so I called for the hospital midwife, Denise, who told me not to push yet as I wasn’t ready and could actually slow things down. I had to persuade to do an internal examination to check my progress - she was reluctant and still thought I wasn't contracting hard enough (I have NO IDEA where she got this idea!!!). Anyway she did the internal and discovered I was 9cm dilated so she rushed off to prepare the delivery equipment and call Frann back in. Jonny called my mum, and they both arrived at about 4.30-4.45am. If the internal had revealed I was only a few centimetres dilated, I might have considered other options for pain-relief as the pain of the contractions was very bad and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it.

I started pushing at 4.40am and Frann was very encouraging and told me how to push. During this stage I couldn’t feel the contractions as strongly, but found that pushing was actually much harder work physically. Frann and Jonny were at the business end and could both see the babys hair and commented how dark it was. Mum was at my head administering a cold flannel, and at some point asked if I wanted a mirror so I could see as well, and I agreed. I actually found this really helpful with the pushing, as I could see my progress. Mum was encouraging me to have the baby at 5.19am as that is the same time that I was born, and we joked that I was inefficient with my pushing when 5.19 passed.

Kellie Grace was born at 5.23am on Friday 27th July, weighing 3250g, a little under 7lb3oz. Jonny caught her head as it came out, with Frann’s hands on the outside of his, and he pulled her body out by himself. I had asked mum to have the camera ready to take photos as soon as she arrived, and I found myself grabbing the camera out of her hands and taking the first photos myself. I couldn’t believe how small she was and how much dark hair she had. Her umbilical cord was HUGE.

After only a couple of minutes Frann told me to push again as the placenta was coming. Mum at this stage phoned my sister in London and broke the news to her that her niece had been born. She was on the phone when Jonny cut the umbilical cord, and she heard Kellie crying and cried herself.

Kellie was placed on my chest straight away, and I gave her her first cuddles. She was tiny and all covered in vernix and blood but I didn’t care. After a few minutes Frann told me I had to give her to Jonny while she stitched up my ripped perinium. The stitches hurt like heck and I don’t know if the local anaesthetic actually had any effect. At 6.00am we gave her her first feed, and she had her check-up, a clean-up and vitamin k injection.

I do remember feeling strangely empowered and elated that I had given birth WITHOUT DRUGS and without intervention. It is hugely satisfying to know that you have accomplished giving birth to another human being and you’ve done it in the most natural way possible. I was also so proud of Jonny for his support and love he showed during the whole labour, he was just fantastic and I only had to tell him off once for offering me food when I clearly had other things to think about!

Kellie wasn’t given a name until 9am, as we had to narrow it down from four or five choices that we had. I had a shower and got into a hospital gown, and at some stage my dad arrived to meet his granddaughter, and he walked into the room and burst into tears.

The midwives told us that the maternity ward was fully booked so we would have to stay in the delivery room until we were ready to transfer to the birthing unit at Helensville. This suited us fine, as we were able to spend the whole morning with our new daughter without having to move around. Jonny’s parents and niece also arrived to visit, and so did our friend and her 8 week old son.

Getting Kellie into her capsule turned into a bit of a drama (we couldn’t figure out how to adjust the straps), and even though we were allowed to leave Waitakere at midday, it was closer to 2pm when we finally left. We stayed at Helensville for 3 nights and they were fabulous, providing round-the-clock care and help with feeding. Jonny was allowed to stay for the first two nights, although their policy is usually only the first night for partners.

We came home on Monday 30th July and are settling nicely into a routine with our new addition. Welcome Kellie Grace, we can’t imagine life without you!

“Before you were conceived, I wanted you,
Before you were born, I loved you,
Before you were here an hour, I would die for you.
This is the miracle of life”

The Birth of Aidan Michael

2007-07-31T20:39:00.000+12:00

The Birth of Aidan Michael

Having already had 3 Cesareans, the last one being a homebirth transport, I was at a loss for what to do in the way of birth plans with this pregnancy. What I really was hoping for was to find someone who could take a look at my medical records with me (including mention of my ‘markedly thin lower uterine segment’, my ‘narrow pubic arch’, my ‘single-sutured uterine closure’, my ‘incisional hernia’ and whatever else labels I had worried myself about) and talk with me about the risks and the benefits of having another Cesarean vs. having a homebirth. I spent a lot of hours praying and asking God to please instill in me the wisdom to know what His will was for this birth and this baby. I quickly ruled out a hospital vbac, knowing that it wasn’t an environment where I could labor effectively or feel comfortable in; therefore, I really wasn’t interested in pursuing it as an option. This left me with the options of having another Cesarean or birthing my baby at home. I called around, talked to various midwives, and got a referral to a DEM who had gone back to osteopathic school to become a doctor, opened her own birth center, and still did home births as well (along with having a family practice). She was in a very rural community 3 hours away and I decided to make the trek down to see her. The minute I met her, it was an instant “click” and I knew that I wanted her involved in my birth in some capacity. As she listened to the stories of my previous Cesareans, she said to me with tears in her eyes, "There is nothing wrong with your pelvis, your uterus, or any other part of your body. What you need is to be left alone while you labor. You need to feel free to do whatever you need to do without anyone watching you. Your assignment is to figure out what you need in order to feel uninhibited and to birth this baby." I thought a lot about that in the subsequent months, and came to realize that she had hit the nail on the head, and what I needed in order to feel safe was to be left alone to do the work of labor, to not feel watched, or timed, or scrutinized in any way. I also knew that I definitely wanted Sarita to be a part of this journey, so I hired her, knowing that she could only come if it was on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday. I interviewed several other midwives in the area. I ended up hiring another midwife, Donna, as my primary attendant. The thing that most attracted me to her was that her philosophy could really be summed up in two words: Birth Works. I don’t think I have ever met another person who believes this as wholly and adamantly as Donna does. Funny thing is, from the time I hired them, I always had a feeling that neither of them would be there for the actual birth, but was hiring them for what they might be able to provide me along the way.

I woke up around 3:40am on April 3 to use the bathroom and found that my pajama pants were soaked and so was the bed. “Hmmm… that’s strange,” I thought. I wondered if my water had broken or if I was maybe having some weird dream about going to the bathroom and peed on myself. “But that is a LOT of liquid; I really don’t think I would pee my pants.” So I got up and walked to the bathroom and nothing was leaking out, and after all it was still another 5 days before my due date. I was expecting to go somewhere between 41-42 weeks like last time. So I changed my pants, laid a towel down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep. But I was soon hit with a pretty big contraction. I glanced at the clock and 5-6 minutes later, another one hit. They continued coming fairly regularly but were only lasting about 30 seconds. “Oh NO! Just like last time!” I thought and I started to cry, thinking this was surely the result of another malpositioned baby, even though I had worked so hard, and tried so hard to get this baby into the right position. I decided to go downstairs and read a couple of my most inspirational birth stories that I had saved for such an occasion. As I got up, a huge gush of fluid came out. Okay, now I knew I didn’t pee my pants that time. So I went to the computer room, and instead of reading birth stories, I decided I’d better finish the assignments I had due for school that week. I started typing term papers, breathing through contractions, and doing laundry all at once (such is the life of a mom I suppose). The contractions continued on for another 2 hours or so and when Steve got up for work, I told him that “today is the day” and he began setting up the birthing tub and cancelling meetings and such. Shortly thereafter, my contractions completely stopped. They didn’t just space out or become less intense. They were totally GONE! But I was actually thankful for the break, as it would allow me time to get the kids to school, get my assignments dropped off, and get some last minute errands done before labor geared up.

I called Donna and also Sarita (knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it since it was a Tuesday, but still wanted to let her know what was going on). Donna advised me to try to get some rest and eat well for what was to come. Nothing. Not another contraction all day long!! So I went to bed that night a bit discouraged and disappointed. I prayed that God would give me patience and faith to make it through this time of uncertainty. If there was one thing I didn’t prepare for it was PROM. I had worked on issues in my mind, such as going postdates, posterior baby, back labor, etc. etc. But never PROM; it just never entered my mind. I thought as long as I had maintained excellent nutrition, which I had, then my amniotic sac would be super strong, and my labor would surely not start with ROM. Wrong! So what could I do? I went on about my day as usual, then settled into bed early that night. Around 3am, I was awakened by a contraction, followed 5 minutes later by another, and another. They weren’t the kind that you can just ignore or sleep through. These required all of my attention and so I got up, got onto the birth ball and breathed and moaned. Steve heard me and woke up, asking what he could do. I told him I wanted him to get some sleep because we may have a long road ahead of us (little did I know). The contractions continued on for about 3 hours. And as the sun came up, they stopped, not another one.

I was still leaking fluid and it was filled with white substance, which I couldn’t figure out what it was, worried that perhaps I had a yeast infection or something. Donna came that afternoon and when I showed her the pad, she told me “That’s vernix.” “Vernix? From my baby?” Somehow this notion was just so exciting to me!! It meant there was really a baby in there. S/he seemed so close now that I was seeing his/her vernix. Wow!! Donna checked my vital signs, fetal heart tones, etc. and everything looked perfect. “Well, it certainly won’t be long now.” she said as she left. I look online to find that 90% or something like that of women go into active labor within 72hours of their water breaking, if left alone. That was so exciting and I began to wonder if it would be this afternoon, or tonight, or maybe even tomorrow. I asked my friend Clare & her husband to come stay in our basement until the birth, as she was my chiropractor / acupuncturist / photographer / moral support for the birth and I didn’t plan on doing it without her there! So the 72 hours passed and I was faced with what to do. Do I attempt to nudge things to get started? Sex is out, swimming is out, warm baths are out…ugh! Donna showed up on Thursday with a big bottle of castor oil, “just in case” I wanted to get things going. Was she starting to worry? Starting to doubt? It didn’t sound like it by her words, but why then, did she bring that castor oil with her? I decided that she just must not be used to patient women, and wanted me to have options. So I sat it up on top of the refrigerator, where I would take it down and look it over from time to time, but I knew that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was monitoring my pulse, temperature, and blood pressure every few hours during the day, as well as monitoring the baby’s heart rate and everything was perfect, solid as a rock. As I would pray for guidance, I would realize that I truly was okay with waiting, and Donna was okay too.

I continued to trudge along, day after day, wishing I had told NO ONE about my broken water, not even Donna or Steve or Clare. If I hadn’t, they would just be looking at me like a normal 40 weeks pregnant woman, but instead I felt like they were looking at me like a “watched pot” all of a sudden (which they all swear was my perception, not their feelings). Each night I would have regular contractions and each morning they would disappear. . On Friday afternoon I had my first (and only) bout of “daylight contractions” and they were incredibly strong, and all in the front around my scar area. This did worry me a bit at first, but soon I began to welcome them and to be thankful that at least it wasn’t all back labor like last time. Sarita came to spend the weekend with me that weekend, and she seemed okay with everything. I really think she thought I was going to have a baby that weekend; I was hopeful that I would too. It was Easter weekend. We had fun, pretending to be on a mountain vacation, talked a lot about my hopes and fears and worries and it was incredibly therapeutic. But…she left and still no baby. I still felt okay with waiting for this baby to emerge when the time was right.

I figured that Monday’s middle of the night labor episode would be the one that turned out to be the “real thing”, since the kids would be back in school from their spring break and I could concentrate on laboring. I was going on a week now with ruptured membranes, and had moments of complete panic and worry, but when I would stop and really sit with things for awhile and ask what I was being called to believe, I would have a real sense of peace that all was okay. It was a strange peace that I have never had about anything before. In the moments when I felt weak and was ready to take herbs, or drink the castor oil, or do the nipple stimulation, I would stop and ask myself if it was really the right path for me, and get a resounding NO. So I wouldn’t do it. The waiting was SO hard though, but still I was okay with waiting. At the times that I would be ready to give up and go sign in at the local hospital for a c/section, I would get a kind word or email, or showing of support from someone that would keep me going and remind me of what I was waiting for. The greatest gift from this experience was that I was able to see a hint of my strength even before “real” labor began. I was able to really get in touch with my body and what my needs and wishes were during all of this. I did do a lot of acupuncture in those days to get the baby lined up optimally, to keep me calm and in a good space, and to get my body prepared for a smoother, gentler labor when it did kick in.

The days went by slowly, each one longer than the one before. I was vigilant about monitoring my wellbeing, and the baby’s. I began to take antibiotics as a preventative measure, going into the second week. I haven’t ever been a big fan of antibiotics, but their use seemed prudent to me as the days wore on. I think this was the only hint of “intervention” I had during the process. I was beginning to grow impatient, but still I knew that waiting was better than any of the alternatives.

Saturday, April 14 rolled around, and while it seemed to be much like the previous 11 days, there was also something distinctly different about it, about me that day. The peace I’d been feeling for the previous weeks seemed to have dissipated; I was CRANKY! I was irrational, unreasonable, and just beside myself. I was thoroughly finished with being pregnant, was certain that this baby was just not going to come out without being cut out, and that I was surely broken. As Clare tried to convince me otherwise, and coax me onto the treadmill, or into some other sort of movement or motion to elevate my mood, I lost it. I told her how “I have done everything within my power to get this baby into a good position and try to get it to want to be born. I have done chiropractic and acupuncture every week for the past 9 months. I have meditated, I have visualized, I’ve talked to the baby, I’ve exercised faithfully, I’ve done OFP so much my knees are bruised, I just can’t to anymore. I can’t listen to you blaming me for not doing enough! I have had it. I am DONE! I am just DONE!! Why can’t you just admit that I am BROKEN? It is time for me to just throw in the towel and admit that my body is broken! My pelvis is messed up and I can’t birth this baby!” and with that I stomped off in a rage. All the while, she is going on about how that is not the truth and that she is NOT going to accept it, how I *know* it is not the truth and for me to stop sulking, snap out of it, and get back to focusing on truth.

After taking the afternoon off from everyone and spending the great majority of it sobbing and wailing and lamenting of how I was tired of being pregnant, I managed to pull it together that evening and went to church with the family. It was a nice service with songs that seemed to be chosen especially for me. I was able to ground myself once again and start to capture some of the peace that I felt was trying to elude me. By the end of the service around 8:00, I had made amends with my body, and had decided once again that everything was okay, that things were happening on the timetable they needed to be on and that I was okay to be pregnant for another few days, at least until after Tuesday, the new moon, and then I would re-evaluate (for some reason, it helps me to just take things a few days at a time). About 2 ½ hours later, around 10:30 while I was sitting in the living room talking with Steve and Clare, I was nailed with a contraction. “Oh boy, here we go again,” I thought, as it seemed that my stop-start labor was going to start again tonight, albeit earlier than usual. The contractions were coming every six minutes or so apart and were requiring my attention. They continued on as they had over the previous “labor episodes” in their pattern of 5-6 minutes apart, yet only lasting about 30 seconds each.

Around 1:00am, everyone decided to go to bed and I thought it would probably be best if I got some sleep too “just in case” this ended up lasting awhile. As soon as I lay down, however, the contractions became almost unbearable. I needed to be up on my feet and moving my hips to cope with them. So I got up and put on my MP3 player, already loaded with all of the music I had chosen for this labor. I started walking around the bedroom, lying over the birth ball between contractions. After a few more, I went downstairs and spent the next hour or so “dancing” through the contractions. At one point, I decided that I felt nauseous and it seemed like a good idea to force myself to throw up (ugh!). It actually did make me feel better, for whatever reason and I went back to the work of laboring. It was a beautiful spring night, so I decided to go out on the front porch and I wrapped up in a blanket on the wicker furniture. I would stand up during a contraction and move my hips around in large circles or figure 8’s, and turn up the “labor music” and breathe and moan as I felt the surge overtake me. Then between the contractions, I would turn the music off and sit quietly, enjoying the sound of the crickets and the brightness of the moon. I think it was at some point during my time outside that I realized “I think I might actually be in labor this time. It’s been over four hours now, and things do not seem to be going away, but getting more intense.” As soon as that thought entered my mind, an instant excitement filled the air, and I was almost giddy with anticipation. Here I was in the stillness of the night, laboring alone in peace and working beautifully through each of these contractions! It was as if I was dreaming and I started to cry & think to myself, “I have waited for so many years for this moment and it’s finally here!!”

As I stepped up the step to go back inside, I could literally feel the baby’s head moving down lower into my pelvis and feel my pelvic bones slowly stretching apart. The contractions became even more intense and immediately went to about 3 minutes apart. I started to feel a little panic rain over me, as I attempted to work through the contractions by holding on to a ledge in our kitchen that is about chest high and then letting my body just kind of “hang” from my arms. I was thinking back to how, in my last labor I wanted to be constantly leaning forward, whereas this time leaning forward was painful. I had to be upright, or almost leaning back, moving my hips around the entire time in order for the contractions to feel “right” (albeit VERY intense), rather than painful. I was thinking how some support would probably feel really nice right now, but I didn’t think I could make it up the stairs to wake Steve. So I continued on like this for…no idea how long…I’m guessing another hour or so, with thoughts of how thankful I was that the contractions were so much more in my front than in my back. I was certain now that this was the real deal and that sometime today I would meet my baby, although I was figuring it would probably be somewhere around dinner time.

Finally, at the end of a contraction (which now had gotten to be about 2 minutes apart), I literally bolted up the stairs as fast as my hugely pregnant self could carry me before another contraction hit. I burst into my bedroom and yelled “Steve, I’m in labor! Get up NOW!” Poor guy, a bit of a rude awakening for 3:45 in the morning!! I told him, “I think you’d better call Donna and let her know the contractions are 2 minutes apart, but only lasting about 45 seconds.” So he did, as I focused on a contraction and making it through, telling myself that it was the last one I would have to do without his support. “Donna wants to know if you are ready for her to come now.” “No, I just wanted her to be aware,” I said, surprising myself a bit by this response. So he hung up the phone and said, “She said okay, but please call back whenever they start lasting longer, or you feel like you are ready for her. She will come whenever you need her.” He then got to work filling up the birth tub, and I ordered him over to put pressure on my sacrum. “Harder…lower…2 hands…” I bark, as the contraction begins to feel as though it will consume me. After the contraction, he goes back to his work with the birthing pool, but no sooner does he get started that another contraction hits. “Steve, my back, please!” (Much to my (& everyone else’s) surprise, I was a very polite laborer). “LOWER! 2 HANDS! Horizontal, not vertical!” (direction of his hands). It was all I could do to eek out little 1-2 word phrases to express my needs at this point. This became our routine, he would press on my back, I would rotate my hips & do this strange thing with my arms, where I would shake them really fast through the contraction. Then it would end, he would go back to his ‘birth tub’ work and I would rest for a minute or so until the next contraction hit and we would slip back into our routine again. My state of mind seemed to be sort of hypnotic, where I became unaware of nearly everything around me, other than the powerful sensations coming through my body.

We continued on with the routine for probably 15-20? contractions, at which point I announce, “Uh oh!! I really am going to be sick!” and I rushed to the bathroom and started throwing up WHILE having a contraction. This was the only time during labor that I worried my uterus might rupture. There was such an incredibly strong, painful force seemingly going in 2 different directions in my body, with the vomiting and the contraction. It was almost more than I could take. After the contraction ended, I told Steve “I think you’d better call Donna back and tell her I’m throwing up. They say that can mean transition, but I’m sure I’m not in transition yet.” So he called her back and she said she would leave right away and be there in an hour. I then asked Steve to go down to the basement and wake Clare to come up. While he was gone, I had 2 more contractions that I had to find a way to cope with on my own, without our routine. I decided to sit on the toilet through those contractions and do the arm shaking thing (still no idea why I did this, but it felt right at the time). Those 2 contractions felt very ‘forced’ to me because I wasn’t able to swivel my hips the way I needed to. I was so relieved when he came back into the room and Clare too, and quickly got back into the routine over in the corner by my side of the bed, in a space so small that Steve could barely fit in there with me. But that is where I felt comfortable and secure. I would look around to make sure Clare was still in sight, grab hold of Steve, place my right leg up on this stool, keep my left knee on the ground, swivel my hips, shake my arms, and have Steve pressing firmly on my sacrum. My mind was just filled with such a feeling of strength and triumph and anticipation already, interspersed with moments of fear and doubt. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am doing this work of birthing my baby!” I would think, followed by “There is no way I can do this for much longer. The intensity of this is just ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do this?” As soon as I would begin to entertain such thoughts, I could feel Steve’s strong, protective hands back on my body in just the right way to re-center me and re-affirm that all is well.

Around an hour or 2 after we made the 4:30am call to Donna, the doorbell rang and a few moments after that, Ruth (the back up midwife) appeared at my bedroom door. “Why is she here? Where is Donna? What is going on?” were thoughts all running through my mind, but I wasn’t coherent enough to verbalize anything or really even to care much. I continued to stay deep, deep inside myself, deeper than I had ever gone before, doing this incredibly intense, difficult work. I later found out that Donna’s road had been flooded and she was having a hard time getting out of her driveway. Ruth asked how I was feeling and I gave her a look and a grunt. She started talking with Clare about what had been going on, how long, etc. etc. and I just pointed at them both and screamed, to which my loving husband translates into, “If you two want to talk, you need to step outside the door. She doesn’t want you talking right now.” I nod my head “yes that is right. Thank you.” and we got back to business.

It was strange really, looking back. Before Ruth arrived, I had no conscious awareness of anyone else in the room, or even the world. I had this concentrated belief that this was all within me, I was the ONLY one who could do this job. But then when she arrived, I began to get sidetracked and a bit panicky. I started looking to her to save me or something, asking her “Am I okay? Is everything alright?” to which she would reply, “Do you think you’re okay? Do you feel like everything’s alright?” and when I would ask, “What if I need to go to the hospital?”, she would reply “Do you feel like you need to go to the hospital?” and unfailingly turn all of my doubts and fears back onto me, and force me to go even deeper within myself and trust my instincts, to which I would immediately get an answer, “Of course I’m okay. I am birthing my baby” or “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Drugs sound mighty nice right now, but I am doing just fine without them.” At some point, Steve made the crazy suggestion that I might be more comfortable up on my bed for a few contractions (I think *he* would be more comfortable with me on my bed LOL). Up I went for one horrendous, terrifying, excruciating contraction. I started just SCREAMING! (up to this point, I had been moaning and making beautiful birth sounds during the contractions). After it ended, I couldn’t get off of that bed and back into my corner quickly enough. Then Ruth started blathering something about a blood pressure cuff, to which I snapped “Don’t know where it is. DON’T CARE!!”

At one point during my laboring, I could hear some rattling sounds over top of my music…the sound of a sterile glove being unwrapped. My body clinched up, I turned off the music, and I started crying like a big baby, “Oh please PLEASE no! I don’t WANT a vaginal exam. If it shows that I’m not making any progress, I will be SO disappointed. Please no!” Ruth answered, “Teresa, I’m not doing a vaginal exam. You sound very ‘pushy’ and I just want to place my hand down there underneath you to make sure there’s not a baby about to fall out onto the ground.” Uh…did she say “pushy”? Did she mean…does this mean…nah, can’t be…I don’t get to pushing. My body is broken and I give in way before any pushing starts. Fast forward another, probably 5? minutes or so (I had/have no concept of time whatsoever in this birth…I only know what time the first contraction came, what time everyone went to bed, and the times that I woke Steve up and had him call Donna, thanks to the phone bill). So 5 or so minutes later, I heard the crinkly sound again overtop of my music, “What are you doing? No! No exams! I am probably not dilating at all and I can’t hear that news. Please!! Please!!” I say, figuring I will only be setting myself up for huge disappointment. Again, she assured me that “Of course you’re dilating, you are pushing!” and she placed her hand underneath me to see if there is a baby head hanging halfway out because I sound like I’m pushing at the end of each contraction & it is impossible for another person to get back into this tiny space I’m in, particularly in this peculiar position with one leg up on the stool, one knee on the ground.

After that contraction, she asked if I would be willing to move out to the middle of the room, or into the birthing tub, or somewhere else (she is seeing that birth is imminent; I am not seeing it). “No, I like it here. I want to stay here.” Steve then picked up the stool I’d been leaning on and said “Come on, T. We’ll go to my side of the bed. There’s more room over there.” And so up I go. As I got halfway around the bed, I have a contraction in the middle of the room. It’s terrible, painful, scary! I feel so exposed and vulnerable! As soon as it ends, I rushed back into a corner on his side of the bed (which does have more space, but not much), “assume the position” that I have become so fond of, and turned my back to everyone else in the room. About that time, this unbelievable, out-of-nowhere, extraterrestrial-feeling compulsion invades every cell of my body and I feel every single inch of myself start to push and heave and thrust and work and groan. What on earth? And then a small voice inside my head says “Hey, I wonder if I’m pushing?” (Okay…so I’m a bit slow to figure things out).

I put my hand down and reach inside my and I feel the most indescribable, inexpressible, utterly beyond words sensation that my fingertips have ever felt. There it was, no more than an inch or 2 inside my body, my baby’s head. My. baby’s head. It was at that moment that I believed, wholly believed, for the first time since the scalpel made its first cut eleven years earlier, that I was going to give birth to my baby. I was capable, my body was perfectly made, my pelvis was adequate, my uterus was strong, and my baby was about to be born. I was suspended in this hazy, quasi-reality…the moment froze and a flood of emotions just rolled over me. I was caught between wanting to just stop everything right there and savor this most miraculous experience that I have ever been a part of and wanting to push with everything I had in me to get this baby out here and kiss his/her beautiful face and touch that squishy head with my chin and my lips and hold him/her close to me.

Eventually the latter won out and I started pushing with another contraction, all the while thinking “Well, I am almost 100% sure this baby is going to come out my butt. But there is not a thing I can do about it, but get it out.” I was remembering other women’s similar experiences on the ICAN list about pushing being “shockingly rectal” or something like that, and that gave me some comfort, but mostly I just felt like I didn’t really care if it did decide to come out my butt. Again, I put my hand down there and felt that amazing baby head, and someone asks “What are you doing? Why are you putting your hand down there?” “Because, there is a baby right there. It’s about to be born.” At this proclamation, the scurrying began, grabbing cameras and blankets and getting in position to hopefully get a hand on this baby, although as the midwife said, this had to have been the most difficult position for her to get in there and catch the baby, and to which I replied, “I really was unconcerned with your comfort or ease at that point.”

I laid my head down and rested and maybe even dozed for a few minutes while waiting for the next contraction. It was so quiet and so surreal to me right then. There was nowhere else in the world I would want to be, nowhere in the world was anything as important going on as this undertaking right here. As the contraction began to build, I raised my head, gathered up every ounce of anything I had and gave a huge push and felt this incredible sensation of the slippery, squishy head sliding through and out of my body, followed by the body. I looked up in my foggy haze and asked “What do I do now?” to which my darling husband quickly replies, “DON’T SIT DOWN!” LOL…the baby was right under me. Ruth calmly unwrapped the cord from his neck and handed him to me. “6:56a.m.” Clare announced. So he was born after about 8 ½ hours of active labor, 20 or so total hours of some intense prodromal labor, and nearly 2 weeks of ruptured membranes. I am SO thankful that it happened the way that it did and I got a lot of the ‘work’ out of the way as I went along. And also so thankful that I never had a vaginal exam so I never knew whether to be excited, frustrated, discouraged, etc. other than what my body told me to be.

I took him in my arms and the first thing I did was to thank him, “Thank you, thank you so much for doing this with me baby.” Then I turned to my husband and I have never seen such a look of awe and admiration and love in anyone’s eyes as I did in his at that moment, which probably mirrored what he say in mine. We just sat there for a moment and looked into each other’s eyes as I proclaimed, “We DID IT!!!! I did it!! I just pushed a baby out of my vagina. I really did it! I just can’t believe I did it!” I looked up and noticed another midwife, Martha, sitting by us. I didn’t even know she was there. Apparently she had arrived about 5-10 minutes before the birth. I continue to just ooh and aah and kiss and squeeze my baby and then it occurred to me that I had been calling the baby, “Baby Boy”. I didn’t even look to see if it was a boy. Oh no, what if it’s a girl, will she be traumatized? I quickly unwrapped the blanket and took a quick peek, “Oh, I KNEW you were a boy!!” and I started sobbing and just praising God with sheer joy and disbelief in my heart.

Someone helped me up onto the bed and I just laid there staring at my baby, all nestled up against my skin. I felt so warm and so full, so complete. Someone woke up the older kids, and my second son Evan came in and hopped up on the bed with us, meeting his new baby brother and having an image of ‘normal birth’ forever etched into his mind. About 20-30 minutes after the birth, Donna arrived and I got up and pushed out the placenta, got cleaned up a bit and hopped back into bed, where Clare soon served me the most delicious breakfast I have ever eaten in my entire life, of eggs, bacon, French toast, orange juice, etc. and I devoured every morsel of it. We chatted a bit with the midwives, to which one of my first questions to all of them was “What made you guys decide to take a chance on me? Why did you ever think I could do it?” and to which they each gave a variation of the same reply, “Of course you could do it. Why WOULDN’T we think you could do it?” Simple as that.

Please click here for a slideshow.. and to see the beautiful little boy himself.

ststire@aol.com (email address if you would like to email Teresa directly).

Nathaniel's birth

2007-07-16T08:12:00.000+12:00

Nathaniel Shaun
Was born in the early hours; 1.18 am on Friday 13th April 2007 at 36 Weeks & 2 Days gestation.
He weighed 8lb 6&1/2oz or 3805grams was 53.5cm long with a head circumference of 36cm. My midwife mentioned it was a 3 hour labour.
Nate was admitted to the Special Care Nursery after birth with Low Blood Sugar & a day later he presented with Jaundice. He was under lights for 48 hours.
He was finally released from the Special Care Nursery 1 week later on Friday the 20th April 2007.
Nate's original Estimated Due Date was 07.05.07.
My emotions during my pregnancy were very up and down but generally I loved being pregnant. I had always known I would love it as I feel it is the most amazing thing on earth – the creation of life. My only distress was actually having to look after the baby at the other end of it. But I have found the man I wanted as the father of my children and was 100% looking forward to meeting my beautiful Bubba knowing he or she was going to be well loved and very cherished and looked after. Being with my partner Shaun, my fears about motherhood had faded away. Even before we had “hooked up” Shaun and I had talked about what we wanted to name our children. We talked about our favourite names. We made a game of it – I could choose the girls name and he had the choice of the boys name. Surprisingly we actually came to an agreement! For a girl I had chosen Ella-T'e and Shaun had chosen Nathaniel. Ella was my Grandmother's sisters' name and my mothers' second name, and Nathaniel is from Shaun's favourite book/movie, “The last of the Mohicans”. Shaun thought it was quite fitting as I have American Cherokee Indian ancestry in my blood!
Shaun and I had been officially together for a year and a half when we moved from my 2 bedroom, 3rd floor flat into a 3 bedroom house with a huge backyard. Shaun felt he needed some space and a garden to look after and mow. We also had talked about trying to conceive in the upcoming months.
Just after we had moved I went on a small holiday to QLD to visit my mum for a few days and to NSW to visit my best friend and her family for her hubbie's 30th birthday. I had been feeling “strange” coming up to the holiday but I didn't really take much notice. The first thing I can remember feeling was a bit queezy when Shaun had breathed chicken chip flavouring on me whilst we were having a cuddle. I laughed saying I was probably pregnant – one of the first signs is going off smells! I had also been feeling queezy just before dinner time, but once I ate I was fine, so I shrugged that off too. Although when I visited my mum, I mentioned the queezy feeling to her and her response was; “Oh I felt just like that when I was pregnant with your older brother”. GULP!! Then, onto my best friends place in NSW where we were having a 30th birthday cocktail party. I voiced my concerns to her, asking if she thought I should take a pregnancy test. It was still a week or so away from my “Due Date” so we agreed nothing would show up so early, so I tried to forget about it and enjoy my cocktails! All the mums there were reminiscing about how much they had accidentally drank just before they had found out they where pregnant! Suffice to say I didn't really get drunk that night – I just had too much on my mind!
I returned home and day 29 of my usual 28 – 29 day cycle, my period had not shown up and we did a test, first thing, Wednesday morning, the 30th of August.
It was positive!
http://waitingformypopett.blogspot.com/2006/08/look-what-i-got-this-morning.html#comments

I was so scared I was going to miscarry. I honestly didn't believe it was true!
The day after I got back from holidays I also weighed myself. I was 75.0kgs.
Before I left, I was bouncing between 71 and 74. One day I was 73.6, the next I was 72.4, the next I was somehow 71.0. Then I bounced back up to 74.2. So I didn’t know what was going on!! I had guessed I might have been pregnant from the 'Opps moment' we had earlier in the month. We had fooled around the morning before moving out of our flat and it wasn’t till I checked my ovulation chart - that I had already moved to the new house - that I realised - Opps! I was on CD12 (Cycle Day) and would most likely be ovulating on CD14 so it was a very close call to be having unprotected sex……but it was already done.

I was pregnant with the best house warming gift ever!

Friday 1st September 2006 – Positive! The doctors blood test was positive! I was about 5 weeks pregnant.
By 7 weeks I had already bought the cot and change table/bath off Ebay!
By 9 weeks I had two cot quilt sets.
At 10 weeks I had my first bleed. My GP booked me in for an emergency scan – but everything showed OK.
My next scan was the scheduled one at 12 weeks and again everything was OK. Yet I was still sooooo stressed something was wrong. All I kept thinking was, when I can feel the baby move, I'll know everything is alright.
At 14 weeks I thought I felt the baby kick my hip bone – I was so happy!
My blood tests were all perfect: going by my age and 12 week scan alone, my results where 1 in 796 chance (of having a baby with Downs Syndrome) and included with my 10 week blood test it was 1 in 14,700! My GP said they were the best results he had ever seen. They also tested for a little known disease called Edwards Syndrome and my results were 1 in 2,400 and 1 in 100,000. So, very lucky!
At 19 weeks I had another emergency scan due to bleeding – but again everything was OK.
My final scan at around 19 – 20 weeks was perfect too.
By Christmas and week 21 I was feeling Bubba move and was beginning to relax and finally enjoy the pregnancy!
At 22 weeks Shaun felt our Bubba kick for the first time!
At 24 weeks (6 months) we had our last bleed scare. That was about the time we gave up sex. I tell you, I still cant wait for this 6 week wait after the birth to be over!! LOL
At 26 weeks I discovered I had milk! This delighted me to no end as I was so excited that meant I would have more of a chance to breastfeed. Shaun was not impressed. In fact it totally grossed him out. LOL
My glucose test at 27 weeks (start of 3rd trimester) was passable at 7.7. It was under 8 so I wasn't re-tested.
I worked anywhere up to 13 – 14 hour days, standing up, plus the 2 hour drive to and from work, up until I was 29 weeks. Then I refused to do it anymore and was moved back to the office to start training a replacement, once we eventually found one to stay.
By 30 weeks my hemorrhoids had flared up – JOY.
We bought a digital camera to take with us on our last holiday before Bubba.
At 31 weeks I had my long lusted after 4D ultrasound. I had wanted one since I saw it on beyond 2000 or a similar TV show when I was younger. I was so excited. Looking back on the pictures – they are perfectly accurate! I said it looked like a 'he' and 'he' had a pout. I was right!
By 32 weeks my Braxton Hicks contractions that I had been getting for most of the pregnancy had kicked up a notch and were starting to be regular enough to be timed the same as contractions, only with no pain. But boy were they annoying! Even to the point I contacted the hospital just to make sure I was OK.
By 33 weeks I was finding it harder to breathe.
My days were starting off like this:
*Sleep in half an hour by sacrificing my morning shower.
*Get up - go to the toilet.
*Rub moisturiser on my belly - go to the toilet.
*Brush my teeth, blew my nose, put on deodorant - go to the toilet.
*Put on some undies and a pad - Curse myself for needing to go to the toilet again and ignore it.
*Finish getting ready for work, drive to work, roll out of the car at work, turn on the lights, check the answering machine, turn on the computer, feed the fish, turn on the kettle - go to the toilet.
I had also developed some form of Carpel Tunnel in my wrists towards the last few weeks of my pregnancy and was having to bandage them up at night to stop my thumbs from cramping.
At 34 weeks I was highly spoilt at my joint baby shower with my Best Friend Mel. We had a blast! The day before I had been so close to being in a head on collision with a P plate driver. Thankfully they missed me but hit my next door neighbour who happened to be driving home behind me.
I also had very bad fluid retention to the point I could produce a huge hollow in the top of my foot just by pressing down into it. I was feeling fat, fat , fat!
At 35 weeks I maxed out our credit card shopping for baby stuff and getting my car serviced and new tires so Shaun could drive it safely and I could take over driving the Magna without feeling so guilty about having the better car. Once the tires where changed my little hatch felt like it had power steering! (Too bad it dosen't).

Week 36: Thursday the 12th of April was an uncomfortable day. I was at work and no matter where I sat or stood, I felt – uncomfortable. I would need to stand every so often and rock my hips, as my back was a bit sore and tight. My fluid retention, known as edema, was at it's peak and the skin on my feet, ankles and lower calf, felt stretched and sore. My fingers were puffy and I generally felt fat! My weight had peaked at 105.4 kilograms that morning.
I had been having “signs” that I felt labour was on its way. Even though I had guesstimated I would be overdue.
An increase in watery Cervical Mucous (I know - Gross)
Needing to pee more times during the night.
My Braxton Hicks were actually getting painful! I totally thought I was in labour for about 2 hours on Easter Monday night!
The week previous I had lost some Mucous Plug. But no more since.
I woke that morning with Heart burn for the first time ever.
Bubba's movements had really slowed down.
I felt as if there was no room left in my belly. Like there was no way it could grow any more.

I was honestly starting to think I was going to go early even though I had been born 2 and a half weeks overdue and my mother had been induced with all three of us kids. I was also certain I was going to have a big baby. I was 9lb 10&½ oz and one of my nephews was over 10lb! So big babies are in the family.
I wasn't dying for Bubba to be out. I was still really enjoying the pregnancy. I also would have been happy to have been 27 weeks pregnant for ever! I loved the kicks, I loved still being able to sleep well and on my back and I loved my baby belly! But at 36 weeks I was tired from all the late night trips to the toilet and having to wake up just to roll over and the pains in my wrists and the stretched skin aching on my feet.....I was getting very anxious to meet our Bubba.
I also wanted Bubba to come while my favourite person, my cousin, was visiting from the UK. She was leaving Melbourne on the 22nd April, only 15 days before my due date.
I was still working and I had 9 days left to go. I had the following day (Friday) off work for my midwife visit and I had a salon booking for a triple X wax and a leg wax. It was really needed! I was planning to finish work the day after Anzac day, Thursday 27th April, I had already scammed the next day (Friday again) off work for one of my final midwife appointments.

So I had been swaying myself all around the office most of the afternoon, and was clock watching from before 3pm. I couldn't wait to get home and relax. Finally 5pm came round and on the drive home I called Shaun. I mentioned to him I was going to stop by the hospital on the way home for a check up as I was starting to feel quite uncomfortable from the Braxton Hicks. I had a midwife appointment the next day but I was really feeling unsettled enough to get a check up. I had a small sore spot on my belly since my baby shower and that was playing on my mind too. I still don't know what it could have been.
So I gave the maternity ward a call and they said I was OK to stop by. I was put into a room on a machine for monitoring. I was told the numbers on the screen didn't mean anything so not to take any notice of them. The fat little midwife then left me there, on my back for half an hour while the machine monitored Bubba's heart rate, movements and possible contractions. I laid there beginning to writhe in pain from being on my back and Bubba lodging its foot into my right rib bones. I watched the machine vary from 0 – 25 in rhythmic motions. Eventually the fat little midwife came in and showed me the print out. “See – this is the baby's heart rate – its healthy. This is it's movements and here is where it would show if you are having contractions – there is nothing there!” Now to me, I was sure something was wrong with the machine, but she felt my tummy with her hand and still couldn't feel anything happening. When I said I had pain in my ribs she put it down to my gall bladder. Then she left to find a doctor. When she came back to the room, I was standing and swaying with the pain I had in my lower back and hip bones but all she did was laugh at me and say the doctor would be in shortly. She LAUGHED AT ME! I was so ready to cry! A lady doctor then eventually came in and did my first internal. She also did my Group B Strep Swab as I was scheduled to have it the next day at my midwife appointment anyway. She said my cervix was still firm but was facing forward. “Just as we expected” the fat little nurse said. The doctor then suggested I go home and take some panadol! “Would you like some sleeping pills?” She said. Huh! Thanks but no thanks!
I drove home in pain and cried on Shaun's shoulder about the fat little nurse not believing my pain and laughing at me. I then took some panadol. Shaun went down the street to buy us some dinner as it was going on 9pm by that time and I was in no state to cook tea. I was tired, sad and uncomfortable. I was sitting on the couch waiting for Shaun to return with the Red Rooster (Can you believe KFC was out of chicken?!) (Even though I didn't feel like eating). I heard him pull up the driveway and.....Oh ohhh! I felt like my bladder had given way and I could feel my pad filling up! I ran for the toilet. I sat down and water gushed a bit. Shaun walked in the door and I called out “Hunny, I think my waters just broke! His response was. “F*ck! I just bought dinner!” LOL. I called the maternity labour line, as I was sitting on the toilet – as everytime I tried to stand up I would gush again,. The same nurse answered my call... “Hi my name is Shawn....... and I think my waters just broke”. She replied by laughing. AGAIN! Grrrrrrr. “Oh well, I think you'd better have a shower and come in then”. She said. “It seems you knew better!”
Too right I knew something was happening you biatch LOL.
So Shaun and I jumped in the car as iI really didn't feel like a shower at that moment and drove to the hospital. Shaun started to freak out a little as I started to get stronger contractions. Then about 10 minutes from the hospital I heard and felt an elastic band snap! I actually jumped a little and it was like Bubba kicking me right on an internal bone with no water padding it! At that stage I had no idea what it was. I said, “Holy cr*p, what was that!!” Then - GUSH! It was my forewaters! The previous leak must have been my hindwaters. And I'd forgotten to put the towel i grabbed on my way out the door, on my car seat! Lucky the pad was a monstrous one and it lasted till I tried to clime out of the car in the emergency 10 minute parking at the hospital. Shaun walked me up to maternity ward. Well, he walked behind me as I didn't want anyone staring at the huge wet patch and the dribbles that where running down my leg and onto my thongs! Meanwhile I'm getting so damn excited! This was really going to happen!
In the same room as before they hooked me up to the same machine and then realised it was broken. Hell, I could have told them that.
Shaun went to move the car and called my two Best Friends then came back in and watched the screen with me. What was only reatching 25 before was now hitting 35 plus. My best friend Ed then arrived. She lives quite close to the hospital and we watched as my contractions went from 3 minutes apart to two minutes apart. They listened to me moan with each contraction about how gross it was, as with each one my waters would gush again! A nice midwife had just come on shift and advised me it was going to contine to do that until after the baby was born. JOY.
Eventually about 10 pm I was moved to a labour ward where I was able to take off my heavily soaked pumpkin patch yoga tracksuit pants and take a shower! It was here I discovered the pleasure of hot waster on my hip bones and lower back. Then I thought about the day's date. Tomorrow was Friday the 13th! What an awesome day to have Bubba! Shaun and Ed thought I was joking at first but then realised I was serious and we all made a joke about how long Bubba had to stay in there to make it till tonorrow. Only 2 hours to go!

I tried sitting on the bed with a heat pack. That hurt more. I decided to go back into the shower. I felt so bloody guilty abouth the water restrictions but the hot water felt so freaking good. My lovely midwife heard me starting to moan more with each contraction and got me the gas. Honestly it didn't do much apart from regulating my breathing. At first I was holding my breath through the pain, but as it progressed, I felt better monaing as I sucked in the gas. It made me a bit dizzy but as I hadn't had dinner and it was close to 11 – 12 pm, I was feeling dizzy and light headed with each contraction any way. About 11.30 my legs gave way and I had to kneel on the shower floor with the head of the shower nozzle rammed up under my belly being supported by it and my hipbones while I held myself up with one hand and beat the floor with the palm of the other hand while groaning and sucking in the gas. Ihad asked to take a bath but they wouldn't let me due to the progress I was making and my weight. I was too heavy for anyone to lift me out in an emergency – I guess.
Meanwhile Shaun and Ed are relaying to me how the nurse is running round like a chicken with its head cut off. “They think you are going too fast” Shaun and Ed kept saying. I was so happy to hear that! The pain was getting worse and worse and I could hear myself getting louder and louder! I must have sounded so funny going “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouuuuuuuch!” LOL
So they were planning to put me on an antibiotic drip as my swab hadn't had time to be processed yet, but again the midwife didn't get time.
So again we clock watched waiting for 12am to arrive. It did and so did the midwife to do my first internal, as both the doctors where still busy with a Caesar. She had a quick look and a feel; said, “Hmm, can't feel any cervix and here is Bubby's head, you can start pushing if you want!”

Wow!
I was so stoked with that! My first internal and I was fully dilated and ready to push! I hadn't had a crazy mad feeling to push but I had gotten to the point where I was kinda bearing down as it hurt too much not to! So I got into the typical lying on back position, hands up under my knees pulling my legs back. The midwife is telling me to push into my bum and all I could think was “Hell no! My hemorrhoids are going to kill me after this!!” .But thats what she kept telling me to do! She also said she gives first time mums 2 hours to push the baby out. I still have no idea why its only 2 hours but I was going to give it my best shot. Two hours of that intense pain in my hips was just too much to consider. So I pushed into my bum. It seemed to me like it wasn't working but she kept saying it was. Another midwife was in the room at some stages of the labour too and she tried holding up a mirror for me to see – but she was freaking hopeless! So that didn't last long. An hour later I'm still pushing and getting fairly tired by this stage. My midwife Martina is explaining to me that Bubby is starting to crown and soon it's going to feel very intense. “Like a really bad Chinese burn!” I said – “Only not on your arm!” That got a few giggles from the room! Poor Shaun and Ed where quite distressed feeling like they weren't helping me – so I was constantly reassuring them they where doing a great job just by being there for me! Shaun was wiping my face with a cool cloth and that was delightful! At one stage he gave me his hand to hold and I think he really regretted that! I kinda saw him dying from the corner of my eye, mid push, and I let go but he grabbed my hand back trying to be a tough man! LOL.

My midwife was constantly checking Bubba's heart rate on the monitor and that kept scaring me a bit – so eventually I got sick of her saying – “No everythings fine keep pushing”, that I really gave it my best go. I was totally BUGGERED by this stage, arms, legs, head, neck, body was all shaking from lack of energy but I did my best to get the three pushes per contraction that she was asking for! And I only really swore once as Bubba's head was slipping out cause it burnt like F**K! Then I had to pant....“ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouuuuuuuch!” while she turned Bubba's head, then I got to push the rest out! YAY!
He popped out, then I scored this real life baby on my belly. I was so freaking shocked he was real! I just could not believe the moment was happening to me!

That was the same moment Martina jabbed me in the leg with the injection (I think to stop you bleeding and help birth the placenta) but I didn't feel a thing – I was still burning from that hideous Chinese Burn Bubba had just given me!
Everyone forgot to check what sex bubba was! There was a sheet over him that they were using to rub him down, I lifted it up and had a peak and IT'S A BOY!
I knew it! I knew it ! I was right! LOL!

Ed then cut his cord while Shaun took the picture!! Shaun was too queezy to do it!

The other midwife took Bubba aside for the Dr to check him over, while I birthed the placenta. Martina was tugging on the cord and asking me questions that I don't remember. I was bleeding a bit too. But then out it popped. And Martina was pressing on my stomach to stop the bleeding – OUCH! Then that calmed down and I was able to hold Bubba and have a go at getting him to latch on which he did fantastically and another photo opportunity! Then because he was premmie they took him to the nursery. Ed stayed with my but Shaun went with Nathaniel. Ed and I were guessing what he weighed. Ed said 6 – 7 lb and I said 7 & ½ lb. Shaun eventually came back saying he was 3.8 kilos or something and he wasn't sure in pounds so we sent him back to find out. Poor Shaun he was so worn out and kind of in shock I think. He was like a walking zombie! He came back and we finally found out Nathaniel was 8lb 6 & ½ oz. That was the first time I heard - “Imagine if he had gone full term”! LOL.
I'm SO OVER that comment! I'm so GLAD he wasn't full term!
See – I knew there was no more room in there for him!!

So he had to then stay in the Special Care Nursery cause he had a Low Blood Sugar level, So I was able to sit for a while until I could move my shakey legs enough to stand and have a shower. I'm telling you that was the best shower of my life! I then got dressed in my awesome new “Little Miss Naughty” PJ's (I had major PINK mode happening in hope for a girl! LOL) and headed off to the SCN to see my little man again.

I got one hours sleep that morning. I dozed off at 6am and awoke at 7 am when I began texting everyone I knew! (Sorry I missed you Jadey! Forgive me on one hours sleep??!! ;) Then the responses came think and fast, but I was too keen on seeing my little man again so I headed back to the nursery straight after breakie! I was STARVING! I eventually came back to my room and my poor room mate mentioned the hospital phone beside my bed had been ringing off the hook, poor lady – I didnt even realise there was a phone there! LOL. And I had 12 txt messages! Suffice to say I ran out of credit fairly fast and started using my work mobile which I hadn't had a chance to give back seeing I was still at work the day before!
Then my visitors started. My favouritest cousin in the world showed up at 8am! She snuck in saying I had called her! LOL I was so stoked she was my first visitor! She got to see my baby before she left to back to the UK!! I was so so happy. Then one after the other for the next two days I had visitors and flowers coming out my ears! It was the time of my life! I have been spoilt rotten with all our gifts and flowers and I even got flowers from my work's main head office, the International Head Office in Sydney! I was so stoked by that!
So Friday night (13th) Bubba ended up under the lights for Jaundice, he also had a high temperature. They tested him for possible infection but he came back OK. He had eye swabs for a gunky eye but that came back OK. I started getting some milk in and on top of his formula feed, his blood sugar picked up and they stopped pricking his poor baby heals for that. He was finally retested for jaundice on Sunday arvo after I was released from the hospital and he was out of the humidi crib the next day. Of course I cried seeing my boy finally released.

My hormones were still going crazy. I could feel I could cry at the drop of a hat so I'm really glad at how i held myself together in that SCN. I got different advice 3 times a day – every time the nurses changed over – I even had a girl who wasn't even a midwife – she just helped out in the SCN trying to tell me what to do. So towards the end of our weeks stay there I was at my wits end! I was in there from 7am till 9 – 10 pm each day.

Then I'd get home to a tonne of people wanting me to call them and I just wasn't mentally capable of talking to them. So of course my Grandma was pissed I hadn't called her! Grrrrr. (I have now and all is ok! LOL) But when I was finally told I would be rooming in with him in the children's ward, I didn't believe it! I still didn't believe it would happen until they where wheeling him into the ward! I was so happy. But I wouldn't let myself believe he was going home. Everyone kept asking when he was coming home, but all I could say was; fingers crossed he will be able to come home soon. I kept thinking he wouldn't gain weight and they would keep him in again. But we coped OK and I heard in the morning the nurses changing over and telling the new nurse how I changed his nappy every feed and how good and confident and loving a mum I was and I would be going home with him today. I was so freaking happy! I couldn't wait for Shaun to turn up and take us home. Then they stuffed around with my paperwork for a while so I had to hang around while I fed him, then we finally left. What a great but shit scary feeling it is to be handed over your baby! I really felt like he wasn't really mine. That he belonged to the hospital! We then got him into the car seat. Thats a new challenge! And took him to Big W where we bought a few last minute things. He got grumpy for his next feed and started crying in the store – in his new pram!!! and we had to come home. I heard some lady saying to her child – “Hear that? Thats a real little baby somewhere crying. A brand new one!” Then I had to take him out of the pram in line to calm him down and I realised he still had his name tags on and everyoe was having a gawk. It was kinda cool! Even the sales lady congratulated us as we left the store! LOL.
So Friday the 20th April; Nathaniel came home!

That night I took him to the local La Porchetta to say goodbye to my cousin before she left to go back to the UK the next day. He was so well behaved. Sleept soundly in his pram until he needed a feed. I chickened out breastfeeding him in front of most of my family! But my cousin got to feed him and all the ladies had a hold... and still he was sound asleep apart from drinking his bottle. He was even quiet on the way home which is almost disturbing! I keep thinking I'm suffocating him in his car seat cause the straps might be too tight – but I check him every chance I get in the traffic and he is fine! I really need one of those mirrors so I can see him in the rear view mirror! But when I eventually got him home he ate then he wouldn't sleep due to wind pains then he wanted to eat again and this progressed every 2 hours or so until about 4 or 5 in the morning when we eventually both got some sleep! Nathaniel's half brother was also spending the weekend with us – and he LOVES his little brother! He even wanted to hold him and touch him and pat him I was so surprised, I seriously thought he would be jealous. But he loved his Spiderman outfit gift from his new little brother. Although he didn't want to go back to his mummy when Shaun dropped him off on Sunday night. He understands Shaun is both their daddies and I am Nate's mummy but I don't think he understood why he had to go home and Nate didnt. So he was fairly upset! Oh well, I just hope that means one day he will prefer to come live with us! That would seriously make Shaun's day, week, life! Fingers crossed – one day!So we have been to the park and to the shops. He had a little bit of day night confusion at first but we try to keep him as awake as we can during the day so he will sleep better at night. Anyway – my little man is stirring for some boob, so I best leave it here! Hope you liked our story!

Visit Mum's blog here.

This is so funny, but a birth story none the less

2007-07-11T20:12:00.000+12:00

Harrison's birth story

2007-05-08T13:33:00.000+12:00

I was booked in for a stretch and sweep at 8am at the hospital on
Wednesday 11th. I met the midwife there and got hooked up on the baby
monitor for a while. She said we would do the stretch and sweep and
see how things went and if nothing happened I would be induced on the
Monday (16th april) because of the strikes.
She did the stretch and sweep and managed to get to 3cms dilated which
was good. She went away and spoke to the doctor and came back and said
that they would induce me that day since all went well.
I had the gel to start inducing at about 11.30 and my midwife left and
said that she would come back at 5 and do another stetch and sweep and
break my waters. Not what I was expecting and I couldn't believe that
I would finally get to meet my baby.
At about 2.30 I started to feel twinges and they were picked up on the
monitor. My the time my midwife got back at 5 I knew that it was all
starting to happen. She said that they would break my waters and then
at about 7 they would put me on the drip to get things moving along.
She broke the waters and unfortunatley there was meconium
and I was a little panicked. We had to go straight to the birthing
suite to get me put on the drip.
I'm not even sure if I really even needed the drip by about 7 I was
having really strong contractions and they weren't even really pumping
that much into me. The contractions got stronger and stronger and by
9pm I was having strong contactions every couple of minutes and I
thought it would be all over soon. I was really starting to struggle
but i thought it would be ok. They asked me if I wanted pain relief
and I asked if the pain would get any worse and the hospital midwife
said I had a long night ahead of me and it would be at least another 3
hours. By this stage I knew that there was no way that I could take
the pain for that long, with every contraction I was shaking so badly.
It was hard just lying there hooked up to the drip and the monitor not
really being able to move around. I said that I wanted an epidural and
they went and organised this for me. The lady only took 20 mins which
i was really pleased about. They administered that and the pain went
away really quickly and I could calm myself down. She did say that it
may not block all the pain and sure enough I could still feel the
contractions on my right hip and butt which was weird but managable.
Slowly I could feel the contactions again and they gave me another
dose and the pain got worse and worse. They checked me again and it
was time to start pushing yay! I think it was just after midnight. My
midwife had to get the doctor in because the babies heart rate had
started to drop which freaked me out. I started pushing which was
really weird at first because it was like pushing nothing and was
really hard to focus on. As the baby moved down a bit and I could
actually able to feel where he was at I was able to focus and push
much better.
I think he had a bit of the cord wrapped around him and that was why
his heart rate dropped they got someone in to check him out when he
was born and he got a little bit of oxygen because his breathing was
rapid. Apart from that he was fine.
They gave me a quick gab to pass the placenta which didn't take long
at all that goodness.
I don't think I will ever forget what it was like when they fist
placed my baby on my chest I still can't believe that he is mine :)

Evie’s Birth Story

2007-05-08T13:09:00.000+12:00

Like most of the stages and milestones of pregnancy, I was initially unsure if what I was experiencing leading up to Evie’s birth was in fact pre- labour symptoms. All week, in the evening, when I dragged myself to bed, I would feel cramps or discomfort down low in my tummy. Several times, I got a clock, pen and paper, and timed the ‘contractions’. They never got stronger or regulated, and though I was disenheartened by this, I also knew that rationally, things were happening and that within three weeks at the most, our baby would be with us.

Every time I went to the toilet from around 37 weeks, I would be extremely disappointed to see that there was no pinkish tinge to my discharge or blood on my undies. I wanted to see my ‘show’ so I could know that things were happening and that my cervix was thinning. So you can imagine my delight when on Friday the 9th of March, after feeling mild cramps from around 7am, I went to the toilet and wiped away a smear of blood. I was convinced that this was it- two days before her due date!

I excitedly ran down the hall to Dean. ‘I think we might have a baby today!’ I said cryptically. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked in reply. I don’t think he actually believed me. All week I had been making jokes about the baby coming, but I had also been complaining about cramps and they hadn’t eventuated into anything, so I suppose he just thought it was another case of wishful thinking on my behalf. Also, the due date was another two days away and I had been saying that I thought I would go later than that.
‘I’ve been getting cramps and they’re regular. See’. I gave him my list of times and he saw that they were around 10 minutes apart. ‘I’ve lost a bit of blood, too’. A smile appeared on his face, and he gave me a cuddle and a back rub. ‘Let’s hope so’, he said excitedly.

I had a shower and continued to lose more blood. I showed Dean and when he actually saw that, I think he really realised that we were in business. ‘I’ll just ring school and tell them that I don’t think I will be in for a full day today’, he said, and went to make the call. We agreed that he should go into work for 1st period and prepare work for the rest of the day, then come home to be with me. We didn’t think that the baby would come that day, but we knew it would be soon.

After he left I rested in bed, watching the clock to ensure that the contractions were still coming and were still regular. At 9.30am I rang a girlfriend to tell her the exciting news. Surprisingly, just as I was about to leave a message on her machine, there was a knock at the door. ‘Rach, are you asleep?’, she called out, knowing that my bedroom was the first room and that I was usually resting at that time of the morning.

‘No, I’m timing contractions,’ I yelled out, realising it was Jess, and jumped up to answer the door. She couldn’t believe it. ‘Do you want me to go?’ she asked. ‘No, no no, come in and have a cuppa’. We sat and chatted for around an hour, with me stopping conversation to breath through the pains, which still came regularly. Jess has had three kids and observed that it was promising that the contractions hadn’t stopped after she came. She thought that they might have eased off, as I wasn’t lying in bed concentrating on them. She also said that she thought it was the ‘very’ early stage and that I would have the baby much later that night, even early the next day. That was fine with me! Just to know that it was happening, after spending so long thinking about it was an overwhelmingly exciting felling. Soon we would have our baby. It was amazing!

Jess left around 10.30 and I rang the hospital. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have, but I had tested positive for Group Strep B and was anxious about getting the cannular in for the antibiotics I needed. I didn’t want to leave it too late. The midwife said to come in around 1pm if my waters didn’t break beforehand.

I also rang mum. She was asleep from working night-duty the night before. ‘Mama, I think today’s the day’, I said reluctantly, knowing that she would be upset to miss the birth. She was due to arrive in Broken Hill in 2 days time. I filled her in on the nature of my contractions then went back to bed to rest.

Dean arrived home and hopped into bed with me, writing down the time and duration of the contractions. We stopped after an hour or so, knowing they were very regular, around 6-10 minutes apart and lasting for around 45-60 seconds. Then I got a few things organised and at 12.30 we headed up to the hospital. ‘Should we take the bags?’ I asked Dean.
‘Na, I’m sure they’ll just put the cannular in and send us home’. I agreed, thinking we were way too early to be up at the hospital.

It’s hard to remember how painful the contractions were, but when we were walking from the car into the hospital, I did have to stop walking to concentrate on breathing through them, so they were definitely obvious contractions that were more than period like cramps.

I wasn’t feeling any apprehensiveness or fear. I was really, really excited. So I suppose my relaxed state deceived the midwife into thinking I wasn’t far along. She organised for the cannular to be put in and told us we had to stay now that it was in. Dean went home to get the bags, some food, the chess set, a deck of cards and some books and I got comfortable on the bed. She put me on the ECG for ½ an hour to see that the baby was coping with the contractions. She said that the contractions should go up to around 30 on the monitor, and mine only went to 25-26, (not that I know what the numbers meant) so I guess they weren’t too strong. Also, she kept asking me if I was still getting the pains, so I think she might have thought I was in the very early stages. After it was confirmed that the baby was fine, they moved me into another room to settle in for the afternoon. I rang mum and dad to let them know I was at the hospital and staying there from then on.

From 1pm to 3.30pm, the contractions got fairly strong. I remember being irritable and a little bit scared. I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to do this for another 10 hours or so. I shed a few tears and expressed my fear to Dean. ‘If they hurt this much now, how will I cope with them later?’ I asked fearfully.
“You’ll do it, babe. You’ll be fine’. I reiterated my plans for a drug-free birth and continued to breath through the contractions. We tried the birthing ball, walking around outside, lying down and kneeling on the bed. I was finding it hard to get comfortable. ‘Surely they shouldn’t be coming this close together and hurting this much’ I asked him.
‘No, I think this is right’, he said.
‘Why hasn’t anyone been to see me yet?’ I asked angrily. I felt like I had been shoved into a room and forgotten about. ‘I’m ringing the bell’ I said stubbornly, and did just that.

A midwife named Faye came in. I was up on the bed on my knees, resting forward on a pile of pillows. ‘How are we going here?’ she asked.
‘I think they are getting a lot stronger and closer together’, I said. ‘Can you check to see how I am going?’

‘Hasn’t anyone checked you yet?’ she asked, surprised. ‘Have you had any pethidine?’

‘No, but that’s OK. I don’t want any. They put us in here at around 1pm and no-one has been in since.’

Faye went to get some things to do an internal. While she was gone I thought about what I would do if she found I was only a couple of centimetres. I was so nervous that she would say I was only 2 or 3 cm. I desperately wanted to be 4cm or more. If I was, I would be happy and I felt I could maintain control if I was that far along.

‘Well, you are doing well’, Faye exclaimed. I noticed the surprise in her voice. ‘You’ve got a nice bulge of membrane and you’re about…’. She pulled her hand out and showed me the length I was dilated.

‘Four?’ I asked hopefully. Both her and Dean laughed.

‘You’re a least five, and when you contract, it moves out to about 7cm’. We need to get you into the delivery room.’

I can’t describe how happy I was. It was really empowering to know that I had progressed that far on my own, but more than that, I felt completely in control. I was coping very well and I just felt like I could do it. I was really going to do it!

I was eventually wheel-chaired around to the delivery room, after they had moved a few patients around to make room for me. As we were going down the corridor, Faye said to another nurse, ‘Almost 7 cm!’. The nurse raised her eyebrows and smiled. We were in action!
I got in to the delivery room and Faye asked if I wanted my membranes broken. At that point I said no. She also set up the gas and encouraged me to try it. She said it took around ½ and hour for the machine to really work well, so thought I should start using it now. I also said I didn’t want that, but she left it by my bed in case. I put it out of my mind that it was there, completely convinced that I wouldn’t have it. Once I had made the decision, the thought of pain relief medication did not even enter my mind.

Faye said she would check on me in another hour, so from 4.10-5.30 we worked through the contractions. I found that rhythmically pushing Dean’s arms away from me and pulling them towards me helped work through the contractions. I really needed to hold both of his hands, and having this routine really helped.

Faye checked me again at 5.30pm and found I was 8-9cm. We decided to break my waters to help things along, so with a little pressure from her in the middle of a contraction, my waters broke. Oh my god! What a relief! It was an amazingly relieving sensation and completely changed the nature of the contractions. The felt more powerful, but in a good way. They became more purposeful. Rather than just pain, it really felt like they were doing something more.

Not long after that, I just wanted to push. And poo. It was an overwhelming feeling. Faye said that I wasn’t fully ready but that a few little pushes might help to finally dilate that last bit. Also, I had a lip left on one side so I rolled onto that side to put pressure on it to move it away.

Things were getting painful. I wanted to push so much, but also feared I wasn’t ready. I kind of grunted my way through a few contractions, then said I couldn’t fight it anymore. I was pushing. Sometimes the contractions came upon me and I felt like I was possessed. I grunted and growled- a deep, guttural sound- completely primitive. It was so hard to get that second breath during the contraction to continue pushing. I was exhausted. I barely had the energy to hold my legs back as I was pushing.

I didn’t feel like I was being very productive. I wasn’t directing the push in the right spot and I wasn’t pushing for long enough. On three separate occasions, the pain was so great that I almost took myself away from it, away from my body. It’s hard to explain, but it is as if my mind took me somewhere else to cope with the pain. Faye’s voice went into the distance and I got a wave of clamminess all over my body. I expressed this to Faye and Dean after it happened and she said I really needed to listen to her. I needed to let her guide me. Up until that point I don’t think I had been listening to her, but I knew that I wasn’t in control. I worked really hard through the next contractions, getting my second breath and directing my push right to where I should have, but again the pain got so great and half-way through the next contraction, I went to take my second breath, but it was like the contraction disappeared. I knew I was ruining it. I was talking myself out of it. Lots of people say that the urge to birth the baby becomes so great that it overwhelms everything else, but at that point, I didn’t care when the baby came. I was soooo tired. I was almost asleep in the breaks between contractions. Faye suggested to the nursing student that my body was really trying to help me rest and regain strength.

‘Right Rachael, up you get’, Faye instructed, realising that she needed to take action then and there. She made me stand at the end of the bed and I had 2 more contractions there, but I felt I needed to kneel. I hated standing. My legs felt so weak and I just wasn’t comfortable. I clambered up onto the bed and had a really, really strong contraction. I pushed for what felt like ages and really moved the baby down. I could feel the baby- it was almost crowning but moved back up after the contraction. Faye said she could see it and Dean had a look too. I remember being surprised that we were that close. I really didn’t expect to be there so soon.

In the next contraction I crowned. The stinging was definitely there, but again, that fact that that meant the baby was coming out was an amazing feeling. I panted through that contraction, slowly birthing the head. Faye encouraged me by letting me know that the forehead was out, the eyebrows, the eyes, the nose, and the whole head! The other midwife commented on what a cute face the baby had and what a massive crop of hair. This was all so encouraging. Faye instructed me not to push and I assured her that there was no way I was going to- I was too bloody tired! After a minute or two, she said I needed to push slowly. I could really feel her stretching my skin around the baby. The baby didn’t turn as it should have, as it’s arm was up near it’s shoulder, so Faye had to help it out. With the baby came a big gush of fluid and another relieving sensation. Then, the sound I have dreamt about a million times; a big, lusty cry from our little baby!

Evelyn Grace Richardson 09.03.07. 7lbs 15oz. 7.10pm