A Labor and Delivery Nurse's Homebirth

Let me start this by informing any readers that I am a labor & delivery nurse, and am currently in my last few months of a nurse-midwifery graduate degree program. So I might get a little technical, and my perspective was a little different than the average first-time mom who has no idea what to expect. Granted, though I had an idea what to expect, I still had no idea how labor or birth would feel, how long it would last, etc etc. So I was still clueless in the most important ways! We planned a homebirth and saw exclusively a homebirth midwife. I decided when I was 18 that I was going to become a Certified Nurse-Midwife, and I knew that I would plan homebirths for my babies. Reading stories about homebirth midwives is what inspired me to become one, so it was definitely my plan long before I even became pregnant or my husband and I were even engaged. He knew from the get-go that it would be happenin' at home! (PS - if anyone is interested in discussing the research supporting the safety of homebirth feel free to contact me through CGB, I'd be happy to connect you with articles, etc!)

Prelude: I had difficulty falling asleep the night of Monday, March 29th following our appointment with our midwives, when they had discovered that my baby was still in the "sunny-side up" position, aka the dreaded "OP" (occiput-posterior) with his face facing my belly button rather than my back. This means the widest part of his head presents to the cervix and these babies, unless they rotate spontaneously in labor (or with assistance!), are very difficult (though not impossible!) to birth vaginally.

When I finally fell asleep, we were very rudely awakened at 2:25 am by the grating blare of our apartment building’s fire alarm. Of all things, and all days! We stumbled out of bed and down the stairs (against Toby’s protests and requests to ‘just stay in bed’), and waited in the pouring rain with the other tenants while the fire trucks lined up outside. After ten minutes of searching the fire fighters came back out. Evidently the building was not engulfed in flames, and we were allowed to go back to bed.

Because I was still so upset about the idea of birthing an OP baby, I lay awake until about 5 or 6 am worrying about the possibilities of birthing an OP baby. And cried some more.

I finally dozed off around 5 or 6, only to waken around 8 am with a series of what felt like rather intense gas pains and a serious case of the runs. I felt my belly harden with each pain as I raced to the bathroom, and had the inkling that these might be the start of labor. But I was mostly in denial, and really felt that the nature of them was probably just some GI thing or another, and to wait it out—they’d surely pass just like the rhythmic Braxton Hicks that were coming off and on the past week or so. But then, I noticed they kept coming…about every 10 minutes. And quickly, they become uncomfortable enough that I was running to the bathroom every few minutes to empty the rest of my colon—and though I felt all day like my bowels couldn’t possibly contain anything more, I managed to have diarrhea up until about two hours before Elijah was born. The strangest part was that they really felt like food poisoning, but more intense, and my belly became rock hard with each wave. I began to get nauseous with each one. They still were about 10-15 minutes apart, so I firmly told Toby when he awoke that he could NOT call the midwives—it was way too early! We finally agreed that at 1 pm, if they were still coming, he could call to at least let them know I might be in early labor. And I made the decision that I could definitely not go out anywhere today, so he had to call off our plans with some friends who were in town visiting from NYC—informing them that I was in labor. I kept telling him not to tell anybody, since this was our first baby and labor could last days or just fizzle completely and I didn’t want to cause any false alarms! He almost went out with the friends by himself at my insistence, since the contractions were about 10-15 minutes apart and bearable at the time he called them. But he decided to stick around, and wisely!

Nancy (our midwife) ordered me to get some rest since she said I was likely to have the baby late that night or early the next morning (I thought she was being awfully optimistic, especially since I hadn’t even had any bloody show—just lots of nausea and diarrhea, and I’d so far vomited once). Wonderfully, Elijah and God granted me an hour or so of beautifully spaced-out contractions so that I slept deeply in between each, between about 1 and 2 pm. We agreed to check in with Nancy around 5:30 pm or 6.

Around 5:30, Toby called Nancy back to tell her I was still having contractions, a bit closer together, and asked for any recommendations for comfort measures. By this point I was on the floor with each contraction. The pain was breathtaking and unrelenting—it felt like a million saws grating against my sacrum. He was definitely still OP, because all of my labor felt like absolute agony in my lower back. His skull grinded relentlessly against my backbone with each contraction and I literally just focused on surviving each one. It felt somewhat better to make low toned howls with each wave, which I began doing in earnest, especially once I jumped into the shower at Nancy’s suggestion. The water against my back felt good enough that I remained in there for about an hour, during which the contractions picked up in frequency significantly, coming about every 3-5 minutes (we were no longer timing them, but I could just tell). Toby had called to ask that perhaps Nancy send one of her student midwives to offer some support, telling her we didn’t think we were ready for her to come yet. Danielle & Tammy would be on their way in a moment, she said.

Danielle arrived shortly thereafter and offered some comfort measures that I tried but immediately declined because I could not handle any counter pressure on my back—it just felt that it dug further into the searing bone pain with each wave. I did get into polar bear position which offered some relief, especially between contractions. About 15 minutes after Danielle got here, Nancy called back to check in and heard me mooing in the background (probably asking for the Lord to help me, which is what I was shouting at this point from the shower with each wave), and told Toby “I’m getting in the car!”. I still felt it was too early at this point, that this could still fizzle, that it would last all night, and I didn’t know how I’d do it. I decided if she checked me and I was 1-2 cm, I was going to refuse to last any longer. The intensity of the back pain was too much for me—I’d made it about 10 hours at this point and was feeling nauseas, had vomited several times, was terribly thirsty from all the diarrhea and vomiting, but unable to keep anything down, and I was becoming truly weary. I dreaded each contraction and just focused on living through it, bellowing curses that I’m sure terrified the neighbors and those walking down the street past our window.

Soon, Heather, Nancy’s partner midwife, arrived and offered me some relief with rubs and affectionate pats. Her touch felt amazing, and her confidence in how well I was doing made me feel marginally better. I just remember moaning to Tammy, “Why is our baby OP? I just hope I’m not 1 cm—I haven’t even had any blood show!” And her quiet responses: “So that when you’re a midwife, you understand!” and “That’s okay!” (about the lack of bloody show).

Nancy arrived, and what a godsend. She walked in, came right to me and put a cool compress on the back of my neck. She began to talk me through each wave, looking me in the eye and holding my focus, asking me to relax deeply, to find the depths of my capacity to birth even through the pain, to tell myself that I was safe, that I was a mama lion. I managed to hold on with her through a few contractions wherein I felt like my body was being ripped apart from my sacral bones, and asked her to check me to see if she could possibly change the position of the baby.

Imagine my surprise when she laughed joyfully and exclaimed that she almost didn’t believe her fingers, because I was nearly fully dilated and my water would break any second because my bag was bulging hugely.

And break it did, in a huge splash that coated almost our entire bedroom (thank goodness I had had Toby make the bed over with the plastic fitted sheet by that point, and Nancy had hastily removed the quilts at some point after she got there and before my water broke). All I remember is the feeling of the gush, hearing the splash, and the peals of everyone’s laughter at the mess from the fluid. The room was giddy. Everyone but me—I was still in agonizing back pain with each new wave, but suddenly my body began to bear down intently with each contraction. I started to push, more by instinct than actual purposeful action. My whole body was just seized with powerful urges to push, before I even really recognized that was what I was doing. Nancy told me if the pushing felt satisfying, the cervix was likely completely gone and she didn’t need to check me again. It did feel satisfying, and also took away some of the back pain.

I switched to my back because my hands and knees were exhausted, and they helped me hold up my legs in lithotomy position—oddly enough, as this was sort of the opposite of the way I’d envisioned giving birth at home. But the relief of complete rest in between pushing was wonderful, and finally, at some point in the pushes, my back pain disappeared completely and was replaced by the burning of tissue as his head came closer and closer to being born.

It felt like forever, but was only actually about 35-45 minutes of total pushing efforts. Eventually they told me to reach down and feel the top of his head—it was wild! I almost couldn’t tell the difference between my tissue and his, except his just felt like a little ball of harder skin. It was insane. Then I began to really want to meet him, to feel the power of the fact that in mere minutes I was going to actually meet this baby we had loved for 40 weeks and 3 days, and made love to make, and who was part me and part the love of my life. I was impatient! Not to mention, it became incredibly uncomfortable. When I felt the ‘ring of fire’ (which was NOTHING compared to the pain of back labor), I decided I’d risk tearing and that I officially wanted to get this baby into the world ASAP. Once his head was remaining on the perineum between pushes, I gave one or two huge, mighty pushes and he came flying into the world—no crowning time; he jumped right out in one fell swoop, head, shoulders and body. The down side to this was a relatively large tear that required probably 6 stitches. The up side was the incredible relief of having him on my chest and absolutely no labor left! I have never experienced such utter relief at having something over. And he was so incredibly alert! A nice lusty cry and completely pink—he got Apgars of 10 and 10, and let me tell you, I have never once seen that in the hospital. But he deserved them! I didn’t even see any real acrocyanosis in those first few minutes! Elijah Erson was finally here, 7 lbs exactly, at 9:13 pm (A mere 2 hours after the midwives arrived!)

It was the biggest rush of my life. I just remember feeling in complete awe, and asking Toby to tell me whether he was a boy or girl (since I was lying flat, it was a little difficult with trying to keep his dry blankets over us for me to look for myself). Toby made the announcement and I remember saying “Elijah—and he was born on Passover!”. When we decided on Elijah, I had read that the name was often given to (Jewish) baby boys born around Passover. As I had read that statement from a naming web site, I remember feeling that this baby might be born around Passover; in any case, my ‘due date’ was near Passover, so it seemed like a good possibility. As it turns out, he was literally born the night we were supposed to attend a seder with friends.

The midwives were incredible. Nancy stitched me up, they made tea, cleaned the apartment of the birth mess, took my vital signs, weighed the baby and did his newborn exam, gave us lots of love and affection, sat me up with lots of blankets and helped me nurse, and kissed us goodnight. And then it was just us—by 11 pm, the team was gone and it was just our new family looking at each other in awe. Shortly thereafter my parents arrived with my brother in tow—I had asked specifically for my parents to bring him with them (he was a college student living across the city from us at the time Elijah was born) and we had a champagne toast and shared in our joy and excitement. Everyone was astonished it was over so soon!

editors note: Here are a couple of links to articles regarding homebirth.

http://www.understandingbirthbetter.com/index.php?ID=1&Lang=En

http://www.cfmidwifery.org/pdf/CPM2000.pdf

Birth Story: Christine's Birth of Acadia

Early on in my pregnancy I knew I wanted to have a natural birth. Sure, some friends and family thought I was crazy, but it was important for me to at least try. I took a Natural Childbirth class and had a birth plan prepared and thought that I was ready to go. I figured if I really needed some relief, medication was always there as a backup.

A week before my due date my husband and I went out with some friends. One asked me, “so do you think it’s going to happen soon?” My response, “I have plenty of time. I don’t feel any different.” We went home and I was in bed at about 11:00pm. At exactly 12:00am I woke up and said to my husband, “Either my water just broke or I wet the bed.” After we turned on the lights I knew my water had broke. I hobbled to the bathroom, leaking everywhere, and ended up just sitting on the toilet for the next 30 minutes. I heard that if your water breaks, it usually doesn’t gush and in general it doesn’t happen to most women. Well mine gushed and I couldn’t really move anywhere without a trail of fluid behind me. So I sat and relaxed thinking about what was about to happen.

After about 30 minutes my contractions started and they never let up. From this point on I had a contraction about every five minutes. This I expected because the same thing happened with my mom. We called the doctor’s office (yes, even though I wanted a natural birth, I still planned on giving birth at the hospital and they said to get some rest and if nothing progresses come in by 6:00 a.m. With my contractions already close together, I wasn’t able to sleep. I tried to rest in bed or on the couch, but it was tough. Slowly my contractions got stronger and at around 4 a.m. we left for the hospital.

Now, in the past, I’ve had numerous “female issues.” I’ve had more abnormal pap smears than I can count. I’ve also had a few biopsies of my cervix as well as a LEEP procedure. I always asked if this would affect my having children and was always told no. Soon I was going to find out what this did affect.

When I got to the hospital I went straight to triage and was seen by the midwife on staff. I immediately felt comfortable because I saw her at an earlier date when I was having early contractions. By this time my contractions were really strong, but still manageable. The midwife examined me to see how far along I was. After a very thorough exam, she still couldn’t tell (due to the scar tissue that had built up from my procedures) and called another midwife in to check. To this day I think her arm, up to the elbow was inside of me. I’ve never felt pain like this. They said they thought I was 4cm dilated, but still couldn’t be sure so they would have me rest and then do another exam. I broke down and cried. By this time I had been in labor for over eight hours and because of the extent of the exam, my contractions were now coming faster and stronger. I knew I couldn’t have another exam without a little help.

I was moved to a birthing room and was soon met with the anesthesiologist. I got an epidural and almost immediately felt better. I was able to sleep on and off but now I wasn’t able to walk around. I was okay with that since I had another exam and I was progressing nicely. Around 6:00 p.m. my nurse came in to check me and I was told it was time to push. This I was not expecting. I thought I would feel pressure, or something to indicate it was time. I didn’t get any of that so I wasn’t really sure what to do. I pushed and I pushed, and I pushed some more. Sometime in the middle of my marathon pushing, my epidural wore off. Now I felt the need to push and push hard. Unfortunately, my baby wasn’t budging. After three hours of pushing I broke down (again). I needed help. My options were an assisted forceps delivery, or a C-section. Both had risks, but, as I found out later, my baby was now in distress and had to get out. I opted for the forceps but was still taken to the OR in case that didn’t work. Luckily I was given a little more medication to numb me.

At 9:42 pm Acadia Ann Vogel was born. She was a little bruised from the forceps, but otherwise happy and healthy. I cried when I heard cry knowing that it was over and I had a healthy baby girl.

While things did not go as planned with Acadia, I’m happy that everything turned out okay. I have a healthy baby and would have done anything to ensure that. Maybe things will go more smoothly with the next one, maybe not. The most important thing for me is that I did what I had to do for me and my baby.

* Editors Note: Click to find out more about the LEEP procedure that Christine had previously had referred to.

Birth Story: Susan Kowalske

Baby Repete arrived at 12:38am on February 5, 2010, with Daddy on the speakerphone and Crunch Granola's fabulous Jennie at my side as our Doula.

After my 41 week appointment, I was feeling the same few mild contractions I'd felt after the last two appointments with membrane stripping. My husband, Ryan is in the US Coast Guard and was out to sea, so I called Meghan, a friend across the street, we had a glass of wine and sat down to watch Grey's Anatomy.

After the show, I took a shower, to see if these contractions were real, but I still hadn't timed them and I wasn't worried. My first took about 36 hours from the first noticable contractions, and these contractions were no big deal. The shower slowed them down, so I called my friend Kelly (who had promised back up to let her know we weren't having a baby tonight, told Meghan I'd see her tomorrow and started in on laundry and cleaning. Too bad the contractions came back with a vengeance!

At 11pm, I still couldn't decide if this was for real or if it could wait until the morning so I didn't disturb my sleeping toddler, Pete. I called the birth center, the midwife asked me to come in to get checked. I called Ryan (out on the boat) to let him know I was going in to get checked. He said there's nothing he could do, they were out on a search and rescue call but to give him a call if they admitted me. I called Meghan to take me and my toddler to the birth center and called Jennie.

We arrived at the birth center at 11:50pm. I called Kelly and she came to pick up Pete and took him back to her house. I was checked in at 6cm, monitored for 15 minutes. Jennie ensured all my birth plan wishes were honored, because I was in no state to think about the birth plan we had written together. I barely had time to use our planned pain management techniques, but I was able to get in the tub, and 2 pushes later arrived my fat little baby at 12:38am without so much as a Tylenol. He was 10 POUNDS 6 OUNCES! 21 inches long.

We had to wait for Ryan to return home 18 hours later to officially name our new baby BOY, but decided on Chester after Ryan's grandfather.

Thank you thank you thank you to Jennie, Kelly and Meghan for all your help. This further proves Karma's a bitch. I mean, who needs a backup plan, after all, it's not like I'm going to go into labor so fast I barely have time to get to the hospital...


I was so honored to be part of "Chet's" birth. Susan was absolutely amazing! My very first birth as a "doula in training." Thank you so much for allowing me to be part of such a very special moment! xo Jennie

Birth Stories: Isabel's Irish Birth

Ever since I can remember thinking about birth, the idea of having a natural birth always seemed like a given to me. My own mother delivered me naturally, free from intervention and medication, and I grew up hearing her talk about birth as a beautiful and fulfilling experience. I also remember her describing how important it was for her to feel every moment of labor and birth—she said she didn’t want to miss a thing, no matter how uncomfortable or even painful part of it was.

When I got pregnant in the winter of 2008, my husband and I were living in Ireland, where he is originally from. Despite my strong beliefs about natural birth, I still had a vision in my mind, from my U.S. upbringing, that birth was something that happened in hospitals with doctors. So, we went about interviewing obstetricians and decided on one who supported our wishes for a non-medicated birth. Ultimately, the obstetrician’s role in Ireland is to provide pre-natal checkups (including an ultrasound at every single appointment); however, it is generally a team of midwives who provide maternal care during labor and deliver babies in the hospital.

On the morning of the 13 October, 2008 (four days past the estimated due date), I woke up with some minor cramping, which felt a lot like menstrual cramps. I told my husband to go to work, as it didn’t seem like anything major, and my parents had flown over from the States to be with me, so I had support. As the day wore on, my mother finally convinced me that, yes, these were actual contractions, and something must be happening! I had a scheduled appointment with my doctor that day, and when I went in, he examined me and told me that I was 1.5 centimeters dilated. I called my husband to tell him to start making his way home.

That evening, my parents retreated to another part of the house, while my husband and I labored together at home, in dim lighting, with quiet music. When I look back, I wish we had just stayed there and welcomed our daughter into that warm, cozy, and peaceful setting. But, we had come to the idea of homebirth ‘too late’ and, because we didn’t know anyone who provided homebirth services, we really didn’t feel we had the resources we needed to make that decision. Finally, when my contractions were about 2 minutes apart, we decided to head into the hospital on the very bumpy back roads of rural Ireland.

In the hospital, which my parents jokingly describe as looking like a relic from the 1950s, we had a litany of both positive and negative experiences. For the first part of my labor, we were in the care of a disgraceful midwife who disparaged my husband, criticized my parents for wanting to wait all night in the waiting room, and chastised me for getting sick on the floor during a contraction (you’ll be glad to know that I wrote an extensive letter of complaint to the hospital administrator and the midwife was called out and later required to go for counseling). Thankfully, a second midwife took over during the latter part of my labor, and she was wonderful. She had given birth at home to all of her children, and showed total respect for our birth plan, which we had laminated and brought with us.

Part of my birth plan, of course, was to labor naturally, with no interventions. My husband supported me with a massage machine during each contraction, and I bounced on the labor ball and moved around. But, as things got closer, and without having prepared properly, my resolve began to wane and my mind let the pain begin to take over. The midwife offered me the use of a thing called Entonox, or gas/air (which I don’t believe is used in the States, but you can read about it here). I had read that the Entonox (50% air and 50% nitrous oxide) was the least invasive form of pain relief and that it didn’t affect the baby’s alertness or ability to breastfeed. Basically, you take a mouthpiece and breathe into it as you feel each contraction coming on.

Finally, with two hours before my daughter was born, I guiltily agreed to take it. The Entonox only barely took the edge off the pain I was experiencing, but soon I was feeling the need to bear down, and stopped taking it. Rather quickly, and with a huge rush of relief and joy, my beautiful daughter was born. My birth plan had stated that I wanted her delivered directly onto my bare chest so that we could begin our bonding immediately. Instead, they said they had found some meconium in my waters and that necessitated cutting the cord immediately (something else I didn’t want), and whisking her across the room for a check-up with the pediatrician. Those five minutes were excruciating and finally, I had my amazing child in my arms and at my breast.

Although Isabel’s birth did not happen exactly how we had planned, it was overall a very positive and beautiful experience. I don’t know what I would have done without the incredible support of my thoughtful, caring, and informed husband, and without the gentle wisdom of our wonderful midwife. After returning to the States and finding supportive community resources, such as Crunchy Granola Baby, and getting to know other parents who are aligned with attachment parenting and natural living, we will go into the birth of a second child much more prepared and with greater knowledge and a stronger sense of empowerment about our own capabilities.

Ed. Note: Thanks to Isabel's Mom for her thoughtful story! If you're a globe-trotting Mama like her, be sure to check out this helpful article from escapefromamerica.com.

Inner Strength: Kristen's story of Christos' Waterbirth

I had always planned to have a natural child birth, like I had the first time, but after my husband and I separated when I was 2 months pregnant, I had to accept what it meant to be pregnant without a partner, and what it would be like to have a baby all alone. Through it all, I learned that I am so much stronger than I ever thought, and that with faith and focus anything is possible. At the end of the day, going through the labor and delivery was an empowering experience that prepared me to take on the biggest responsibility of my life, and showed me that once we surrender to what is, the universe rewards us with a type of joy and happiness that we could never have planned on our own.

It was January 6, 2010, 3 days away from my due date. I was convinced this baby would come early, like the first one had. I had gotten coverage for my shifts at work starting at my 37th week, thinking that Baby would make a grand entrance around that time. 37 weeks came and went. Then I thought, maybe Baby will come on Christmas. Christmas came and went. Maybe New Year’s? Then New Year’s came and went and still no baby.

At around 11:30 pm that night, I was taking a shower, when I had what felt like a big contraction. Earlier that day, I had visited my chiropractor and asked him if he could "get things going". He said he couldn’t play God, then made a small adjustment in my lower spine, and sent me on my way. I did not know until much later that he had done the Webster Technique, and that it would prove to be successful!

After my seismic contraction in the shower, I felt as though my water had broken, but couldn’t be sure. Could this really be it? No, I wasn’t getting my hopes up. I dried myself off, and got dressed, still questioning if my water had broken. By now it was after midnight. I went downstairs and my brother was sitting on the couch watching TV. I told him that I thought my water had broken, but I wasn’t sure. "Shouldn’t you know if your water broke?" he asked. He asked me what he should do. I told him to go to bed and get some sleep, because if this was it, I would need him in a few hours to be there for my son, Ethan.

So, my brother went upstairs to sleep, and I lay down beside my 4 and a half year old son, who had fallen asleep in my bed. I tried to sleep too. By now I knew my water had broken, because I was soaked, so I got up and put on the clothes I had prepared for this very moment.
The contractions started to come, about 8-10 minutes apart. I remember holding my beautiful belly, talking to the baby, saying goodbye, that I would miss him inside me and that I was so happy he would be in my arms soon. I told the baby I loved him, no matter what, that we were going to do great, to not be afraid. We had been through so much together already, we were strong, and we would be ok.

Soon, the contractions became too intense, and I could no longer lay down and doze between each one. I got up and went over to my desk, sitting on my yoga ball, rocking back and forth gently with each contraction until they passed.

I sat in the darkness of my bedroom, the music from my birth play list softly in the background, listening to the chants Om Namah Shivaya, Ramana Ramana Ramana, over and over again. As the contractions quickly picked up speed, I stayed put on that yoga ball. Between each one, I folded myself forward, laying my head on my bed and resting until the next wave hit. Ethan never woke up; he was as peaceful as an angel, his sleeping breath making me feel safe and warm as I labored to bring his sibling into the world.

It was just the three of us – Ethan, me, and the baby that would soon be here on the outside. I thought about the daddy, the man I had loved so much who helped me to create this child. Things were so different now, so different than they had been when we had made our baby. He didn’t love me anymore, wasn’t there for me, and in this moment, I was ok with that. I was strong, and I could do it. I texted him, he didn’t respond for hours. By then I was in full labor and it didn’t matter anymore. He was not going to be a part of this after all. Deep down I had already known that it would be this way, and I knew it was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

At around 4 am, the contractions became so intense that I ditched the yoga ball and made my way into the bathroom, where I closed myself inside with each passing contraction. At 3-5 minutes apart, I was no longer riding waves but tsunamis, and I had to muffle my face in a towel to keep my screams from waking the entire house. Soon, I heard a little voice at the door whisper, "Mommy," and I opened the door and smiled for my angel, telling him that his brother or sister was on the way. With each contraction, I’d close the door gently, and from the other side that small, brave voice told me to "breathe Mommy, keep breathing." And I did.
Soon, it was really intense, and I knew I needed help caring for Ethan. I told my son to wake up my brother and my mom. My brother came down, finding me doubled over my bed, hardly able to move, and he let me squeeze his hand and he rubbed my back for a minute. I was so grateful. Contractions were about 2 minutes apart, and he said I should call the birth center; I argued for a second and then gave in. When the midwife called back, I was grateful to hear the voice of Susan Thomforde, the one I had felt the safest and most comforted by. She said I should come in.

My mom helped me into the car, and as we drove the 20 minutes to Beverly, it felt like an eternity. I could feel the baby’s head pushing down, and I told my mom to drive faster. I hobbled to the birth center, stopping at the door unable to go any further as a giant contraction froze me where I was standing.

After the contraction passed, I went inside, and waited for a moment in the dark living room for Susan. After a few minutes, I was allowed into the birthing room, where Susan asked if she could check to see how far along I was. I reluctantly agreed, and was shocked when she said I would be having my baby within an hour. Little did I know my baby would be born in 30 minutes!
Susan began to fill the tub as I labored by myself in the darkness. After the water had filled the tub, Susan helped me in. The water eased the pain somewhat, and I could feel my body floating through each contraction. Within a few minutes, I could feel the baby start to come. I remember thinking that I didn’t know how to do this, that logistically I could not make sense of the whole experience. I asked Susan what I was supposed to do, and she said to do what my body was telling me. So I listened.

It was the most marvelous experience, as my baby was born into the water. It only took 2 or 3 pushes before I felt his body emerge, and then everything went quiet. I was no longer in pain, no longer making any noises, and there were no sounds of crying. Just stillness. Time had stopped.
The baby floated under the water, and then Susan and I helped the baby to the surface and he was in my arms. I didn’t even think to look at the baby’s sex, all I could see and feel was a perfect, round little creature, my child. Sweet sweet joyous moment. Then, Susan asked, what do you have? And I looked and saw that it was another son, a brother. And that is how Christos arrived. It happened on January 7, 2010 at 6:35 am, on my father’s birthday.

Ed. Note: Thanks, Kristen, for this beautiful and personal story! Single women have the same rights to their childbirth choices as coupled ones; a great resource for single moms or single pregnant women is YouAndMeKid.net.

Letting go of control: Christi's story of Autumn's surprisingly Zen Birth

I went into labor at some point during my work day on Tuesday, Aug. 25, but didn't really admit to myself that I was having contractions until around 9pm, mainly because I was almost two weeks early with my first baby (and "they" all tell you that first babies are never early). My husband and I were watching TV and I finally noticed that the discomfort I had been having all day was coming at regular intervals. It wasn't until nearly 10pm that I said anything to my husband, and then it took us two hours of timing and book-reading to decide that it was "the real thing".

My plan was to have as natural, un-medicated, and non-interventionist a birth as possible. I wanted the freedom to walk and move around. But I went into labor knowing that birth is a crazy, messy thing and that you can never really plan for it. So I tried to be open-minded. I did have an OB since I had gone through fertility treatments and had wanted to stay within the same practice. However, I was lucky enough to have an OB practice that was supportive of natural births and did have a midwife on staff. And I selected a hospital that had labor tubs, labor balls and a low C-section rate.

My OB had told me that if I wanted to go natural, then I should stay at home as long as possible. From 10pm to 3am I wandered around my house, sometimes stopping to take a 3 minute nap, to eat a snack or to take a shower. We called the OB-on-call around 3am when my contractions were 5 minutes apart and left me breathless, and we got to the hospital by 3:30am. I was only 3cm.

The nurses and OB on call said I'd be happier at home if I didn't progress in a few hours. I didn't want to go home - I wanted to have my baby then! So I started walking, and walking fast. I think I logged a few miles (and lapped more than one nurse!) by 6am when my water broke. This got me a ticket to move to a labor room and the labor tub (thankfully my OB had no rules about being in the labor tub after my water broke).

One thing I was petrified about before going into labor was being stuck in a bed, attached to an IV. When it came time to get the IV I asked for a hep-lock rather than the full IV. I was prepared to ask this and had made sure that I stayed hydrated prior to going to the hospital. The staff agreed to the lock; it was the best pre-labor decision I had made.

I labored in and out of the tub from around 6am to 3pm, sometimes walking and sometimes on a labor ball. I had an amazing nurse who acted much like a doula and kept me focused on breathing, visualization and movement (and cherry popsicles!) We listened to a mix of music that I had made and I focused on my Happy Place (in a hammock on a beach in Hawaii).

At 3pm the OB wanted to check my cervix and got me out of the tub. I was only 4cm (ugh) and my contractions completely stopped. I was exhausted. I had been up since 6am Tuesday and it was now 3pm on Wednesday and my body just wasn't coping well. The OB on call and my nurse decided to let me nap for awhile. Then, around 3:30pm, it was strongly suggested that I have pitocin.

Now, I knew pitocin was something I didn't want. But at this point in labor (18+ hours) and being awake (33 hours), I was beat. Something needed to change and the only thing being suggested was pitocin, so I agreed. However, I asked for the lowest dose possible and insisted on still being able to walk around. I got hooked up to the IV and began to walk around the L&D ward with my husband and my nurse.

I only made it a quarter of the way down the hall before I started throwing up. I never throw up. The contractions were so strong and so long that I was doubled-over and gasping for breath. And they never let up - it felt like it was one continuous contraction from 3:30pm to 5pm. I ended up back in my room and in the labor bed. As much as I thought I didn't want to be in bed, it was really the only place I could find any comfort.

A little after 5pm I turned to my husband and asked, "would anyone think less of me if I got something for the pain?" He, of course, knew this meant the pain was bad. We had already agreed that if I needed anything that we would ask for a half dose of an IV pain med. My nurse, bless her, did try to talk me out of it by telling me that she'd have to check my cervix in order to give me anything. I insisted. The pitocin really had me in tremendous pain.

I was nearly 9cm! I had gone from 4cm to over 8 1/2cm in just an hour and a half. No wonder I was in so much pain! I got a half dose of Nubain at 5:30pm and immediately felt the need to push. Nobody believed me at first because they really thought it would take longer for me to get to 10cm. But the baby was coming.

My nurse called for the OB and helped me get into position. I gathered up every last bit of energy I had and pushed like my life depended on it. Five pushes, thirteen minutes (and some lateral tearing) later my daughter was here. Autumn Juliet was born on Wednesday, Aug. 26, 2009 at 6:04pm after (at least) 21 hours of labor, coming in at 6lb, 15oz and 19 inches. She had a full head of hair and big, bright eyes that took in everything. As tired as I was, after being awake for 36 hours, I was suddenly full of energy and love.

My daughter's birth wasn't exactly as I envisioned it, but in the end it didn't matter. I always felt supported and cared for by everyone around me and I ended up with a beautiful, wonderful baby.

We, as pregnant women, get really wrapped up in what we want from the birth experience and we sometimes forget that there is another person in the equation: our baby. It's good to know what you want from your birth experience and to be prepared with the language, people, and tools that will guide you toward that. But then let go of some of that control, allow for some flexibility, and let your baby have a say in how the experience unfolds.


Ed note: Thanks, Christi, for sharing Autumn's Birth Story! We encourage everyone to inform themselves of all their options, and to choose doctors or midwives who support their decisions. Go Christi!

Birth Stories: Please Welcome Jude Harvey

I’ve hesitated submitting this story because it’s deeply personal. But if it can help other women traverse the emotions of beginning mama-hood--and maybe doctors will begin to realize we want more choices--then here goes something.

There weren’t many things I wanted more in life than how much I wanted to have a natural, un-medicated, birth. I’d heard my mother speak of her two natural childbirths my entire life and I had always aspired to have one for myself and my precious baby. It was a gift I wanted to give him. However, baby Jude was head up the entire pregnancy. It was at week 36 that my midwife said we would need to schedule the c-section for week 39. She said that in the mean time I could try some maneuvers at home and make an appointment to have an External Cephalic Version.

Wait.

A C-Section?!

And so begins my grieving process. I call it a grieving process, 1) because I’m a Mental Health Counselor and I know the stages of grieving oh so well, and 2) because I began to realize the idea of a natural childbirth was slowly slipping away from me. My husband and I had taken Hypnobirthing classes and medication was not an option, whatsoever, for me. I had a deep desire to share with the gazillions of women throughout history who knew what it meant to have a natural childbirth. Eve, Sarah, Bathsheba, Hannah, Elizabeth, Mary. I wanted what they had.
So I began to mourn:

DENIAL: I had to get over the shock that I could not find a doctor or midwife skilled in delivering my breech baby. I was shocked to find out that the skill of safely delivering a breech baby had nearly become obsolete. Throughout my pregnancy I had prepared myself with the idea that my baby or I could become in serious danger during delivery and I would need a c-section or major medical intervention. But, he was breech. Neither one of us was in distress. He was simply head up, bum down. A c-section, really? Really? I was in denial.

ANGER: I became very angry at the medical profession for letting me down. I thought being in the United States of America meant I was free, that I had choices. I was angry that I found myself with no choices, no alternatives.

BARGAINING: I began to bargain with my midwife to give me one more week…okay one more week…okay one more week to get this baby to turn before scheduling a c-section. I tried everything; I mean everything to help little Jude turn. I went to the Chiropractor 3 days a week, I did the inverted “polar bear” position 5 times a day for 10-15 minute stretches, I put ice packs at the top of my belly, I played soothing music in between my legs, I played rhythmic loud music in between my legs, I shined a light in between legs, I went to an acupuncturist, I used moxibustion, I tried visualization techniques, I clipped clothes-pins to my pinky toes and to no avail we attempted the awful external cephalic version. He never budged.

DEPRESSION: I became depressed. I became deeply sad and deeply disappointed that a natural childbirth was very quickly looking really impossible.

ACCEPTANCE: It hit me. Ashamedly, I had become angry and disappointed in Jude. The emotions hit me and they hit me hard. But this realization was my freedom. Somehow all my disappointment and blaming was directed toward Jude. I decided in that moment Jude could do no wrong. I wept and asked for his forgiveness. I told him I would love him whether he was head up or head down, chess player or quarterback, Burger King cashier or President, outgoing or shy, skinny or fat, short or tall, C student or A student. I would love him unconditionally. All along I wanted a natural childbirth because I knew my body could do it. I knew my body was created to do it. I believed my body and my body’s Creator knew what they were doing. So I accepted the fact that my body, my baby, and my Creator must know something I don’t. Why go against those things and force this baby to move when perhaps he was meant to be breech all along? Ultimately I refused to schedule the c-section and decided to wait for baby Jude to come on his own terms. I thought if a c-section was going to happen it’s going to happen after we’ve got many hours worth of the God-given love hormones during contractions.

So on January 7th around 8pm my contractions began. I took a long shower at 10pm (the “back labor” as they call it was horrendous because of his breech position and the shower was just what I needed). At 3am I lost my mucous plug and called the midwife. I told her my contractions were 2 minutes apart and lasted just about 50 seconds. She told me to come on in. I woke my husband (who was oblivious that anything had been going on the last 7 hours). He took a shower and I did the last finishing touches on the hospital bag. We took our sweet time and got to the hospital by 6am. The whole time I’m thinking and believing with every contraction he could be moving head down. They did the ultrasound and sure enough he was still head up. I was 4 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced.

They had me in the cold OR by 7am. At exactly 8am on January 8th, Jude was extracted from my body out of a 4 inch incision.

I wasn’t the first to touch my precious baby. I wasn’t the first to see his face. It wasn’t my voice he heard first. He wasn’t laid on my bare chest. We weren’t able to lay in his goo for hours before nurses did their nurses thing. He was instantly clipped from me and laid in a crib where I couldn’t see him.

I could hear his precious cries.

They led my husband over to the crib where nurses were hooking him up to oxygen and rating his Apgar. After the first 10 minutes of my baby’s life they walked him over to my head. He was completely swaddled in hospital blankets and I could barely see his tiny cheeks. I said “Bring him closer” and I stretched as hard as I could to try and kiss his little face. I had barely kissed him when they walked out with him to the nursery to monitor his lungs. I laid there for another 30 minutes while they stitched up my insides--without my baby boy. Our love hormones that had been coursing through my body throughout the contractions were now interrupted with a spinal tap, morphine and antibiotics. They wheeled me to a recovery room where I got frequent text messages from my husband who never left Jude’s side. Jude was wheezing and they wanted to monitor his breathing. Of course he was wheezing. Without the birth canal to apply pressure to his lungs he’s gonna need a little more effort and time to clear his lungs.

We were separated for 4 long hours. He was brought into my room swaddled up. I couldn’t grab him fast enough. I put him on my chest, pulled off the hospital cap and began kissing him and telling him over and over “Here I am, here I am, here I am.” I immediately stripped him and myself down to begin breast feeding. In an instant I didn’t care that we’d been separated for his first 4 hours of life. The world was perfect. My life had truly begun. I had a healthy, warm, happy baby in my arms. He wouldn’t leave my side for days.

For weeks it didn’t matter in the least bit that I hadn’t had a natural birth. I was so infatuated and googily-eyed with this handsome little baby that the natural childbirth was a fleeting thought. But my baby is 5 months old now and I still can’t watch a natural childbirth. I cry. A flood of grieving emotions come over me. I realize there’s still some unfinished business with my emotions toward the loss of a natural childbirth. However, I know I’m able work through these feelings and understand these thoughts so clearly because I have a husband that in every way is my very best friend. Without his unconditional listening ear, I could not have made sense of my emotions. I know I was an emotional wreck at times, but I can’t imagine what I would have been like without him enduring my journey of becoming a mama.

JUDE means praise and thankfulness and Harvey means battle worthy. He’s managed to live up to these names very quickly. I thank God for him.

Ed. Note: We are so grateful to Jude's mom for offering the beautiful and moving story of his birth. For more information on Breech birth and our rights as Moms and babies, come see "A Breech In The System" at Cinema Salem on Saturday, June 26th.

CGB Wants Your Birth Story!

Starting this month, the CGB Blog will be featuring birth stories courtesy of you, our readers and customers! We are committed to our community, and know that by sharing our experiences with each other, we all become enriched, stronger, and better informed.












Every birth is different, and every birth has its own story. How did you imagine your birth? Did you stick to your birth plan, or did you go to plan B (or C)? Did you use a midwife, a doctor, or both? How did you feel before, during, and after your birth?

Send your birth stories to crunchygranolababy@gmail.com, and we may feature it right here on our blog! You can use your name, or send it anonymously. We want to hear from you!

For some great examples of birth stories, check these out. And remember, no matter what your experience, it is valid, and hearing it will help someone else!

Little Baby. Big Diaper.

We couldn't resist sharing this photo with you!

Heather Amon Harvey's little girl Grace is no match for her Little Beetle Little to Big Diaper from CGB!

Born only a few weeks ago (Grace was born 2.2.10), she's a peanut of a baby and so adorable in her cloth diaper!

Congrats to the whole family and keep up with those diapers - they'll fit her soon enough!

*Not familiar with the Little to Big? This diaper, which is the first and last diaper you'll ever need, keeps growing with your little one. Learn more here.

Althea's Birth Story

Althea was born on September 29th at the North Shore Birth Center. She was 6 lbs 15 oz and 19 inches long. Labor started for us at 2:30 AM on the 29th. We had breakfast out and went for a long walk on the beach followed by a picnic lunch in Marblehead. The day was beautiful and walking played a big part in our early labor coping. We went to the birth center in the evening, where we met our doula, Joy, and Amanda, the midwife who would be attending our birth. Things progressed quickly and we welcomed Althea into our family at 10:51PM. Our experience at the Birth Center was wonderful and played a big part in us having the calm, supported natural birth we were hoping for (thank you North Shore Birth Center and especially Amanda!). - Ajna Pisani