Healthy Birth Around the World: Vancouver, Canada

It was 1978. I was pregnant and 25 years old. I was one of a group of health conscious young people creating a simple, natural lifestyle. We chose to birth at home. I had attended a few friends' births and they were magnificent. At that time, in Canada, doctors were attending home births and midwifery was not legalized. Shortly after my son's birth, doctors were prohibited from attending home births.

In early March 1979, a couple of weeks after my estimated due date, labor started. I had a friend visiting who would go on to study midwifery. She had to leave the next day, so that night I had a serious conversation with my unborn child saying that in no uncertain terms he/she had to come NOW. At that moment my waters burst with such force the futon I was sleeping on was soaked through. I was so excited, shouting to my friend who was sleeping soundly, My water broke, my water broke!

I called my sister at 1 a.m. to let her know what had just happened. In a sleepy voice she asked, Are you having contractions? I said no. Her response was, Go back to bed and I'll come over in the morning!

My sister was a pro at this (I thought) having had two children, one in hospital, one at home, which I also had been at. We had practiced Lamaze breathing in preparation for my birth. I had done little else and had not read any birth books. I was sure that the breathing would aid me in staying relaxed. My sister was my doula. Also involved were 2 lay midwives and my kind elderly doctor (who would show up much later and drink tea downstairs).

During the night not much happened. I was too wired to sleep so walked the hall, tried the bath, but didn't like it. Labor picked up by 7 a.m. My sister arrived with my 5 yr. old nephew. Later the midwives came to check in and stayed from that point on.

I didn't want to move very much. I likened myself to an animal that seeks to labor undisturbed in one place. Mine was my bed. My sister sat behind supporting me. She had me do the different types of breathing we had practiced for each stage of labor. I found myself focused inward, deeply in touch with the waves that flowed over and in, out of me. I needed complete focused concentration as a wave was gathering strength through me, aware of my breath, in, out, in,

out, until it subsided.

I know I must have gotten up to pee but I recall being on that bed, very still, with eyes closed, in an altered state until the birth! I was consumed, drawn into a timeless space, riding out the never ceasing ebb and flow of labor waves. Like surfing a tsunami! I rarely spoke or acknowledged those in the room, barely aware of the "outside." At the times I did open my eyes, it was like seeing a snapshot click - my nephew at the bottom of the bed staring at me, click - the midwives sitting quietly, click - my friend silently standing beside my bed.

After being fully dilated for some time my doctor appeared beside me and gently said to push as if I had a big bowel movement. I wasn't feeling strong urges. There had been a moment where I wondered what was happening as I noted the midwives looking on with some concern in their eyes.

Once my doctor gave me this instruction I went ahead and did just that mustered all my strength and pushed with everything I had. After 32 years, I still remember that sensation of my son slipping out of me. Before that was the burning searing ring of fire. In my mind the thought formed "I am ripping wide open" (I didn't have any tears). I yelled out at the moment my son entered the world. He slid out wet and bloody onto the bed.

My parents had been called earlier when we thought that the birth was imminent, but as it took longer they arrived just at the moment of birth. They stepped into the room and were overcome by the sight! My Dad proceeded to thank my doctor avoiding looking at his naked daughter. My doc, gotta love him, said, Don't thank me, thank your daughter! My mom sat down next to me and I squeezed her hand so tightly, all the while saying I am so happy, I am so happy, look at him, look at him. I was on a high. Giddy. I buzzed. I hummed!

I wanted to put him in a bath immediately after birth. He unfolded exactly the way I had seen it in Dr. Frederick Leboyer's book. His hands uncurled, his body relaxed totally and he floated peacefully just loving it.

My doctor told me that his head had been asynclitic (turned to one side) and that was why I hadn't felt strong urges to bear down. My son did have a very long "cone head."

My birth experience was not one of pain. It was intense requiring my full attention. I felt it as powerful surges, all encompassing. I know my son's birth inspired me to become a doula. I hoped that other women could enjoy their birth experience as I had. As Sheila Kitzinger says it's something we actively do and exalt in.

Post birth, my journal entry: The birth. Intense. Hard. Panic. Perseverance. Will. Strength. Tired. So total. Keep pushing. Keep going. You can't stop even if you want to. There's no place to run to, no escape. You have to use ALL of you. It seems like my whole life was brought together in 15 hours. I guess that's what it's all been for.

Debra Woods

Vancouver, Canada

Birth & Postpartum Doula, Childbirth Educator