A Birth Story: Heather and Baby Athena

That space around a woman, child, and their attendants around the time of birth is sacred, whether you see it as a miracle of divine, spiritual, or natural origin. Anyone working in this space who doesn't understand or respect it is going to do more harm than good in the long run. So you're getting the story of exactly what my experience meant to me. What an unbelievable blessing!

 

The word that keeps going through my head is perfect'. Born on the eve of a scheduled semi-induction at 41 weeks and 6 days. A puddle at 5:00 pm was Athena by 11:30. The only round of antibiotics went in four hours before delivery, to the minute. It was ridiculously precise and all natural', as they say. I got my wish for a rainy day, and there was a rainbow just outside my window.

 

I was whining to my mother on the phone about the plan in place to break my water the next day. Not sure why I'd agreed in the first place, I was contemplating not showing up if Preston would let me. It was hard to know what to do at this point. Pressure was mounting, we were anxious and impatient, going in for monitoring twice a week was getting old&sigh.

 

Mom tells me she hung up and began to pray that this would work out on its own. Not more than half an hour after that conversation, still kneeling over the couch and agonizing, I felt a sudden, suspicious trickle. It was too good to be true. I went to the bathroom, came back, and knelt again. And it returned! I didn't dare get too excited, but we picked up, got ready and left for the hospital to check if my water had truly broken. At the least, it was something interesting to do.

 

We were in luck! Confirmed, admitted, and getting settled. The news was spreading through the family. I worried a bit that I still felt only a few mild contractions. BenNi, our doula was asking if we thought she should come yet, and I didn't want everyone to be stuck there for hours with nothing happening. But quickly they began, and increased. We'd been given a smaller, cozier room, back away from most of the outside noise. Alone for a moment, I rocked in the chair, looked out from the quiet at the lifting storm and rainbow and smiled. How could this all be going so right? I felt God reminding me that He was a Father just as I was going to be a mother, that He had the same sweet thoughts and wishes for me as I did for my daughter, and that we were all working together to make this the best possible experience.

 

As special as it was, my own sacred space was very clean, free of the things usually associated with that word. After all my preparation and study, there was very little art to it, no candles, no music, no aromatherapy, no rebozo work or position changes. Still, it felt true to who I am. The first 15 minutes were a bit unsettled as I tried to find where I might be comfortable, and then everything took off and left no time to think. I knew it would be fast from the beginning; earlier in the week contractions had started in at every two minutes and quickly gone to one before they stopped.

 

The first half was the most uncomfortable. The pain was one thing, but anticipation of the unknown made it that much more awful. Once I realized it wasn't going to get much worse I knew I could do it, but only a little at a time. Many people have called the sensations of labor indescribable. While hard to communicate to someone who's never been there, for me it was pretty clear: take the worst possible period cramps and case of constipation short of a serious condition, add them together, and multiply by 10. I was scared at first, as I said, of the unknown. I was relieved to find there was a limit to it, and it wasn't as high as I feared. Mentally, my awareness changed. I was clearly conscious of what my body felt, my thoughts, but these were strong enough to be like a wall between me and everything else.

 

I learned that the relationship between dilation and pushing isn't as linear as it's usually explained. When the urge first hit, what seems like no more than an hour in, I asked to be checked (I get very curious and love to know that kind of thing). 6 cm and about +1. I guess she was just low enough that the reflex kicked in, and I went with it, thinking if I didn't force it, there wasn't much chance of swelling anything. I was not about to start fighting myself.

 

Up to this point, I'd been managing alright while kneeling at the foot of the bed and breathing deeply. No more. I need water, I said. I'd already had the speech about using the shower but not the tub. I looked at the hard plastic chair in there and thought about complying. Then I noticed Preston had changed and was ready to go right in with me! He never did, but we tossed out the chair, pulled out the moveable shower head, and I knelt in the tub while it filled, demanding he aim the water here!' and higher!', lower!' We'll call it a shower with the drain plugged. I'd already had antibiotics, right? I just wish the water had been deeper, and the tub not so narrow. I couldn't turn how I wanted to.

 

I did not embrace my contractions'. Oh, no, I definitely fought them. I curled my toes and tensed, while having an unexpected inner dialogue. I never want to be near this place again. Forget a larger family. Forget the doula work. This is horrible. I hate it. Never again. This is when I decided medication sounded like the best idea ever. I was totally justified, since I only got a few breaths in between contractions. I would feel guilty when I had to admit it after all my ranting, but better a needle in my spine than a case of PTSD. Maybe three days of slow labor would be better, after all. Was it too late to try that instead? I'm not ashamed of those thoughts. I didn't know what it would be like beforehand. My body was saying I was in pain, something bad must be happening, and needed to make it go away. I wasn't going to waste time arguing with myself, and I wasn't going to be weighed down by guilt or regret at any point, if I could help it. Pretty soon I realized it was not going to be much longer or much worse, and decided I could do it on my own.

 

What I tried to do that helped:

 

Going limp between contractions, and letting go of all the pain and tension. I felt just enough refreshed for the next one every time.

 

Focusing on my breath, getting enough, keeping it loose, etc. Doulas are great at reminding you to do this, even if it seems really annoying after the first half-dozen times. Do it anyway. It helps.

 

Vocalizing. I wasn't sure if I would, but it just happened. I am usually very quiet. I guess after watching enough videos of other women doing the same thing, I assumed that's what I would do? Eventually, though, it became a way of holding on to tension. I got into a pattern where my voice would be high and strained, and I was holding the sound out long enough that I wasn't taking in much air. So I had to go back to deep breathing for the rest.

 

Finally, I had to get out of the bathtub. I don't know when we told anyone, but when I checked I could feel her head about an inch inside. We held out as long as we could. I was mad, but knew they'd fight me on it. With seconds to make the switch between contractions, I jumped out of the water and marched to the bed, painfully climbed up and knelt with my arms over the top of it.

 

Time passed. I kept pushing. I tried to guess what was happening by others' comments and what I felt, guess where her head was at, and when it would come out, but I wasn't very good at it. Someone kept pushing a monitor into place, and that was absolutely the worst of the pain, that and having to keep telling Preston to get his hand off of my back. When would I hit that scary ring of fire thing? It was never unbearable. There was some pain as her head suddenly came free, and then the rest. I think that's when I tore. Luckily, I was told that kneeling kept it from being too bad, and not all of it needed stitching.

 

The moment wasn't particularly emotional. When I heard her voice, I felt oddly surprised. By the time I turned around and she was there, the cord was pale and limp already. She had big eyes. It felt like any other introduction under unique circumstances. Well, hello, good to meet you. That was something, wasn't it? Glad it's over. Are you well? We're both a little dazed, I'm sure.' I watched to see if she would crawl and latch herself, as I'd been told. The stitching was uncomfortable, and I was shaking enough that I decided to pass her to Preston, who took his shirt off to keep her warm.

 

BenNi went and got me a snack. My family came in for a moment. I'd thought only my mother would be there. Baby stopped and turned her head when she heard her grandma's voice. Grandma, of course, was absolutely delighted. We made introductions, then everyone had gone and it was quiet again.

 

What can I say after that? The blood. It was like a horror film. I left a giant path of it as I went back to try and use the bathroom. Whatever. I had to get out of the bed. I stood on a towel as we talked and took pictures. After we moved and settled in a room upstairs, it was hard to sleep and hurt less to be standing. I sat on the couch and talked to Preston; I cheated and used the bathroom unsupervised. I felt energized the nurse pointed out that I was probably burning adrenaline. I also still felt threatened at the prospect of a long, hard labor. It ended so fast, my body was a bit confused.

 

Then we started into life as a new family. It wasn't until weeks after that I started to look back and be curious about the things I had missed. Were the nurses shocked that I was naked and on my hands and knees? That I made so much noise? I had been so nervous about interacting with them, but I never talked to anyone until it was done. Afterward, everyone was very kind. They kept complimenting me on my control'. They had all read my birth plan, and followed it. But what were they thinking as they did?

 

On asking Preston's thoughts, I learned there were a few things he hadn't shared with me before, like the depth of his fear for my pain and Baby's health, how much he enjoyed working with a doula, and how he still found it all exhausting. He wrote: I am grateful for my wife's more naturally minded perspective. We did have to openly talk through some of the specifics and come to decisions together. It can be hard as the father since you feel like you have a say but the mother definitely has a great deal more of a say in most areas regarding the actual birth. My advice to fathers when discussing these options with their wives is to be extremely pleasant and tread very gently. It is important for you to have your say, but above all your wife is the one that really needs to feel comfortable with things. Her emotions and worries are going to be in a delicate balance. Then once you have decided together, help her stay strong as you face the reality of your plan together.

 

BenNi said it was the closest thing to a homebirth she's ever seen in a hospital. It makes me sad to hear that all the other mothers she worked with had been in stirrups, or had continuous IV and similar things (unless, of course, they all wanted it that way). Why is this? Did I just get away with it all and no fuss because it happened so fast, then? We decided the two biggest reasons this birth was such a success was because I had a great, supportive doctor, and because I had been taught the first rule of giving birth is doing whatever you feel like. Preston found my short, precise instructions amusing. I knew that was normal. I knew I could be loud, and naked, irritable and demanding, and feel confident it was exactly what was best. And it was. It was perfect.

 

I have to say thank you, to God, to Athena, who's been so sweet and delightful, to Preston and my family, BenNi, Dr. Clark, all the kind people who worked with us at Logan Regional Hospital, and you, for sharing the fun with me. I feel like I'm giving an award acceptance speech, in which case I'm sure I've gone far over time. Cue the music. Not a bad way to end, at all.