Community Birth Story: Alexander Miles

Community Birth Story: Alexander Miles

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As told by Carin:

My labor with my first son, Jasper, was less than ideal. I had an induction (unnecessarily) for possible growth restriction at 39 weeks. My OB ignored my entire birth plan, and I ended up with an epidural and epsiotomy, when I had hoped for a natural birth. So this time I got pregnant, I was determined to do it the way I wanted.

My pregnancy went very well and easy. I met with midwives instead of OBs. I hired a doula, Bergen, in February, which I had wanted with Jasper, but Guy refused. This time he realized how helpful one would be and agreed. I really liked her after our first meeting and was sure she would help me achieve my natural birth.

I continued working up until a few days before I went into labor. At around 36 weeks, I was having contractions if I walked too much. So monday, I called out of work and stayed home to relax. I still had a few minor ones, but nothing serious.

On Tuesday, I lost my mucus plug. I text Bergen and she said that meant we were having a baby sometime but who knew when. Guy and I decided to go for a walk downtown. We walked a few miles, with contractions getting worse and more painful. The last mile back to the car was the worst. I kept telling my husband to just go get the car and come back for me. Once we got back home, the contractions more or less, stopped again. They went back to minor, sporadic occurrences.

I went to my chiropractor appointment that afternoon. I told her that I wouldn’t be back for awhile. For some reason, I knew I was going to go into labor that day. I just knew it. After my appointment, I took a small nap and made dinner. My husband kept telling me that I needed to relax and I wasn’t in labor. So we went to our birth class that evening. I had several contractions each hour during class. Our instructor and my friend, Lindsey was very excited. She thought I was in labor and was so excited about it. She kept saying I was going to have a baby. Finally someone who agreed with me. Bergen had brought her birth bag to class, just in case, but as I clearly was not in full labor yet, we all went to our homes. She told me to relax and that we were going to have a baby some day soon. Apparently she and my husband thought it may be another week or two of this “prodromal” labor.

We got home at 9:30ish that night and I went up to bed, while Guy got on the computer. I was too awake. I still felt like that was the day labor would start, but it was getting late. Jasper woke up and wanted to nurse. So I brought him into our bed to nurse, while playing on my phone. He fell back asleep quickly. All of a sudden I felt my water break. I text Guy and told him to come upstairs. I text Bergen. Guy didn’t respond, so I called him. He answered, saying he would be upstairs for Jasper in a minute, thinking Jasper had just woken up. So I told him my water broke. He was surprised. I told him to call his mom and tell her, in case we needed her soon. Bergen asked about my contractions, which didn’t change. And said to call her when they did. I felt relieved. I had known I was going to go into labor that day, and I was right. I was giddy and awake. But contractions never came, at least not noticeably. I put a towel on the couch and slept in the livingroom.

The next morning, I woke up about 6am. We ate breakfast and went to the grocery store. I hadn’t even gotten a single labor snack that I planned. We got some trail mix to snack on during labor and some things for dinner. Contractions came, but were minor and random. We got home and Guy put together our dinner in the crock pot. Then we called Bergen and I told her I wanted her here, since none of us knew how this labor would go. She got here at 9 and we went to the park again. Walking when leaking water is not a fun experience. At first, I had wanted to stay near the near and not walk too far. But, my contractions were still minor so we decided to walk downtown. We stopped and got some pastries and walked back to the car. Labor was still eluding me.

My contractions were a bit stronger by the time we got to the car, but still minor. We got back to the house and ate, while Bergen had her son dropped off for a bit to nurse. We then decided to do laps around the neighborhood. We also began timing. They were around 6 minutes apart and still getting more intense during walking. We walked around for an hour or two. Contractions were more intense but still not active labor and slowed when I stopped walking.

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Around 7, I called my midwife and told her I was in labor. We had to go in for me to receive antibiotics, since I hadn’t been tested for group b strep yet. We got to the hospital around 8. We were taken back to triage and I was checked. I was scared of having no progress in the past 24 hours. I shouldn’t have let the nurse tell me how dilated I was. I was only 2.5 centimeters. I felt very discouraged and tired. I knew if I didn’t kick start labor soon, they would want to intervene. But I wanted a nap so badly.

They started our first monitoring and antibiotics around 9:15. After they were finished, we went for a walk. All of a sudden, things changed. I had to go to the restroom and my contractions were different. I had to stop walking to breathe through them. I was cold. I didn’t realize it but I was finally in active labor.

Around 10:30ish, we had to go back to the room for more monitoring. I stayed on the birth ball, doing wind motions during contractions. I was finally progressing! We finished monitoring around 11. During my contractions, I began to kneel over the birth ball to get through them. I was in the corner, in the dark and in my own little world. My husband went to get a sandwich and my midwife, April, came to check on me and said I was definitely progressing and she would come back later. I started getting very nauseous. I remember telling Bergen that it felt a bit better when I pushed, which scared me. I didn’t think I could be that close to birth already.

My husband came back and I had to go to the bathroom. A contraction hit and I jumped up from the toliet. I held onto my husband and began vomiting. I went back to my corner, while my husband went to tell them I had puked. He came back and immediately left again to tell them I felt like pushing. He came back to me pushing uncontrollably and ran to tell them. I didn’t see anyone come into my room, but I remember them turning the lights on.

I had contractions very close together, pushing each time. April told me I needed to wait to push until they checked me, which wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t stop. She checked me and I was a 10. Then April asked if I wanted to get on the bed and I said no. So she started pushing things under me, ready to deliver on the floor. They had to call a neonatalogist, since he was preterm. I just remember everyone kept saying “second baby” over and over. I reached down and felt his head, and said that he was coming. I didn’t really feel the “ring of fire” that I had heard about. I had felt a very mild stinging during pushing but it went away before he crowned. I pushed a few more times and felt his head pop out. Another push or two, and his body came out. They counted 30 seconds before clamping his cord and letting my husband cut it.

He was then taken to the neonatalogist and checked over for a little while. I got onto the bed for April to check me for tears. I only had two minor lacerations, much better than an epsiotomy! When I finally got to hold him, I was so overcome with happiness. He was tiny and perfect. He latched on easily.

This birth was everything I had wanted. It was completely natural, from start to finish, save for the antibiotics. My baby got to pick his own birthday, two minutes before midnight! I had an amazingly supportive birth team. Between them and my birth class teachings, I was able to control the pain and remain calm. I loved this birth and hope all to come go as well.

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Click HERE to learn more about the Community Birth Stories Project or to submit your own birth story.

Community Birth Story: Ada Violet

Community Birth Story: Ada Violet

Ada’s Birth Story

My lovely daughter Ada Violet was born on November 15, 2013. She came six days later than her due date, which was fine by me as I had final exams the weekend of her due date and was praying that she’d hold on a little longer! My husband and I had decided before she was even conceived that we would like to have a home birth if possible, so that was the plan. We couldn’t have been happier with the whole process. I’ve never liked going to the doctor, and here was an entire pregnancy where I wouldn’t have to see one doctor or go anywhere further than my living room for prenatal care!

My labor started slowly and gradually. Over the last few weeks I could feel my body preparing for the big event, and a few days before the birth I started having lots of Braxton Hicks contractions, some quite lengthy and uncomfortable. The evening before Ada was born, I could tell there was a change, as the contractions started to become more painful and deliberate. I went to sleep as usual but woke up around midnight to contractions that I couldn’t sleep through. I figured this was probably the early stages of labor, but knew that it might last a while, even days, so I tried my best to rest. I managed to sleep a little between contractions, but by 5 am or so it wasn’t really working anymore. I got up and went downstairs. I didn’t want to wake my husband up because I knew he had work to do that day and also knew that I could manage things by myself at that time but might really need his support later on and wanted him to be well-rested just in case!

I emailed my mother-in-law and texted my mom to let them know I thought labor had started. My mom was planning on being with us for the birth and she and my stepdad were in the car on their way down from Connecticut within what seemed like a few minutes! I just hoped they weren’t going to arrive several days early…

At that point the contractions were still manageable. They weren’t very far apart (every 2 minutes or so), but they would only last 10-20 seconds (where I really had to stop everything and focus). I decided to try to keep myself busy while I could so I made some muffins for breakfast. Fortunately, I managed to eat a couple muffins that morning, as that was the last time I was able to eat until many hours later.

I texted my midwife to give her an update. I told her not to come yet as I was still OK. By mid-morning the contractions were more intense and I was having a hard time doing anything else but focusing on getting through them and resting during the breaks. I went up to the bed and tried to rest while doing my best to time the contractions with the clock (and having a really hard time – later on I learned that they have apps for that!). I was a bit stressed out because my husband had a work deadline that morning and we still hadn’t set up the birth pool yet, and by then I couldn’t do it by myself. Fortunately, he managed to finish his work and set it up before I needed it, but of course you never know what is going to happen until it happens!

By early afternoon I was really focused on getting through the contractions and everything else became a bit fuzzy. My midwife arrived and checked on me, then retreated to a chair and quietly let me labor on my own, which was really nice for me (I think being constantly checked on would have stressed me out and that’s one of the main reasons why I wanted a homebirth). My husband was with me quite a bit in the afternoon, helping me, holding my hand, playing peaceful music on the piano and generally taking care things. I labored in the tub for a while but got out after an hour or so because the contractions were getting really intense with not much space in between and I was started to get tired. At some point my mom and stepdad arrived. I couldn’t greet them properly. It was hurting so bad. I was so happy my mom could be there though. Sometimes you just want your mom, and this was one of those times. She was so great, doing whatever she could to help and putting my mind at ease.

The midwife’s assistant and partner also came at some point, although I have to admit it was all a bit blurry by then. I remember my midwife asking me now and again if I wanted her to check me internally, but I kept refusing. The contractions hurt a lot, but I never felt like I was “making progress” or “opening up” or whatever other terminology they use. I was so afraid I was barely dilated and didn’t want to get hung up on the numbers. At some point she suggested that I drink a small glass of wine and go lie down on the bed to try to rest a bit. I couldn’t accept the wine – I could barely even drink water, I was so nauseated. I did go upstairs to lie down though, and my husband came with me. I was getting so very tired…

The contractions were a bit further apart for a while, so I would start to drift off, only to be brutally awoken by the most intense back pain I’ve ever felt. After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went back downstairs and tried various positions while people took turns pressing on my back during contractions. During the pauses, I sometimes heard the birth team talking quietly together and was afraid they were saying things weren’t going well and that I’d have to go to the hospital. I started getting scared, as our insurance wouldn’t cover the birth and I was starting to think there was no other way but hospitalization, which would leave me traumatized and indebted for life (of course, I’m exaggerating, but this is how I felt!). At the same time, I’m pretty sure at that point that if drugs had been offered, I would have seized the opportunity, despite all prior decisions and thoughts on the matter. I just didn’t know how I was going to go on like this.

I remember seeing the sun set and thinking to myself, “there goes the day.” One whole day gone and I hadn’t even been outside or done anything! At one point I went to the bathroom and I felt some pressure, a new sensation. I decided that my midwife should probably check me. They helped me upstairs to the bed. I’m so glad she only checked me once because it was terribly uncomfortable. She announced “I don’t feel any cervix at all.” “Oh no,” I thought. “I haven’t even started dilating yet and my cervix is so high she can’t even feel it!!” Of course, that’s not at all what she meant. She actually meant that I was fully dilated and could start pushing the baby out. Yay! I wasn’t sure if I had it in me, but at the same time I was so very ready for it to be over.

They helped me into the tub. I tried pushing during contractions but didn’t really know what I was doing. My midwife coached me a bit and at some point I let go of whatever was holding me back and understood what to do. Soon thereafter, my body completely took over and pushed all by itself. It was incredible. I knew I was using the very last of my strength, but I was so close, I just kept going. I pushed until the midwife said she could feel the baby’s head. She told me to feel it too. Then I pushed so hard that I could feel the burning and the sudden relief as the baby’s head came through. Once I knew the head was through my motivation skyrocketed. I didn’t like the thought of the baby’s head in the water for very long (even though I knew there was no risk). With the next push the body popped out and floated up through a cloud of blood and then there she was, my darling baby girl, as beautiful and bright-eyed as could be. I was in shock. It took me several minutes to process what had just happened. After working so hard for so many hours (months really, as the pregnancy wasn’t exactly a cup of tea!), it was all over.

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My entourage helped me and Ada out of the pool and onto the couch, where she breastfed for the first time and I held her for half an hour or so until the cord stopped pulsing. I was really uncomfortable because my uterus was cramping and contracting. I went to the bathroom to deliver the placenta over the toilet. I was so surprised when my midwife said I had to push again. I thought I was done! But no, here we go again, and out came the huge placenta and what seemed like gallons of blood (of course it wasn’t really).

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After the birth, it took my body a couple of weeks to recover (something I wasn’t expecting), and it took me a couple of months to get used to breastfeeding and living on very little sleep. However, in that time I went from being stunned over the birth of my daughter to totally head-over-heels in love with this little baby girl. Now I can’t imagine my life without her and of course it was all completely worth it. I never knew how much love my heart could contain until Miss Ada was born. I love her to pieces and love being a mom!

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Click HERE to learn more about the Community Birth Stories Project or to submit your own birth story.

Community Birth Story: Aubrey’s Stillbirthday

Community Birth Story: Aubrey’s Stillbirthday

Aubrey’s birth story

It feels morbid to write a birth story for a stillbirth, but between our happiness and tragedy, there was still a birth with a story to be recorded:

This was our second child and the pregnancy had been uneventful, much like my first. All tests and measurements indicated the pregnancy was progressing normally and that we were good candidates for our birth plan. Eight months along, we had our birth team selected, equipment collected, a last-minute “baby sprinkle” on the calendar to celebrate this new baby.

Our plans changed the night the baby didn’t have hiccups before bedtime. This baby always had hiccups before bedtime. Maybe they went to sleep early. The next day, still feeling no movement, we called our midwife to come over. I drank juice, ate ice cream, candy, sugar straight from the jar, and laid on my back on the couch, tears pooling in my ears as I feared the worst. Please move, baby. Please move.

It was a beautiful Spring day, sun shining and birds chirping, when our midwife arrived to check for a heartbeat with her doppler. I put my fingers to my neck to feel my pulse as she scanned my rounded abdomen. We listened and listened. The only heart beating was my own. We went for an ultrasound, my heart breaking a little more with every confirmation. The report read:

“No fetal heart tones. No spontaneous movement. Consistent with intra-uterine fetal demise.”

Next came a series of impossible decisions that no parent wants to make. Cremate or bury? Autopsy or not? Actually, back-up — do we induce or wait for labor to start spontaneously? Should I consent to a C-section or endure a heart-wrenching labor? If we wait, how will I go to work or the grocery store and hear peoples’ “Congratulations!” “When are you due?” comments and not burst into tears? How long can we wait until the baby’s body starts to deteriorate? Do we even want to see this baby? Hold them? Take pictures? Do we smile for the pictures?
I didn’t realize how difficult these decisions would be until they were actually about my body, my baby, and my pain. These would be our memories and nightmares – our regrets.

The week that followed was surreal; I walked around with a beautiful belly and a horrible secret. We gathered as much information as we could, but our problems weren’t the sort where we could elicit the helpful feedback of our social media networks. Mercifully, friends of friends who have had pregnancy losses contacted us out of nowhere, like a secret army of angels, already grieving with us, praying for us, ready to answer the questions you can’t ask anyone else. Thank you, God.

Braxton-Hicks contractions adjusted the baby’s position frequently. When I watched knees and shoulders sweep under my belly button, it ruined me. Slowly, my body recognized that labor needed to begin. At 35 weeks along, we packed the car to go to the hospital. No car seat needed.

There were no excited texts or statuses to post, “In labor! Baby will be here soon!” There were no words of encouragement to be shared by friends, “You’re gonna ROCK THIS! I can’t wait to meet your baby!” The only things left to do were blast the Christian radio station and pray for a compassionate birth team and a quick labor.

I remember feeling bad for the lady who checked us in at the hospital’s front desk — we were going to Labor & Delivery, so why was I crying? Upstairs, we learned the doctor on-call was a Christian midwife who had been through a pregnancy loss herself many years ago. Thank you, God. The L & D unit was otherwise completely empty – no distractions, no crying babies. Thank you, God.

All the usual things you tell yourself during labor that are, at worst, believable lies, were unavailable to me. You’re so close to meeting your baby! Imagine looking into those sweet eyes. Labor was every bit as physically painful as my previous one, but even that was overpowered by the emotional pain. This baby already left me, now it’s just leaving me again. We were all relatively quiet as the hours went by. There was little to say. This just had to happen.

My husband read bible verses in my ear while the midwife rubbed my back. We prayed, I shook, I cried. I knew there were few acts of motherhood I would have the opportunity to perform as this baby’s mother – birthing their body was one of them, so I resolved to be as brave as I could be.

I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord is my strength. – Isa 12:2

When the baby was born, I didn’t immediately look. The nurse told us it was a girl. Aubrey was the name we chose. I asked the nurse to describe her to me. She said she looked pink and beautiful, just like she was sleeping. She wrapped her in a blanket and hat and gave her to us. She was warm; I could almost imagine she was alive. I memorized her face and the weight of her body in my arms.

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I held it together pretty well at first. As if on autopilot, we smiled for pictures when my parents came to visit and we ate food. There was apparently a sign on our door to alert the kitchen staff to be appropriately somber when delivering our food. That was nice. My husband and I took turns reading our favorite bible stories to her, we told her jokes, and sang songs. Talking to her body was awkward, but we were cherishing, we were pretending, we were procrastinating.

As the hours passed, she got colder and the reality of having to let her go set in. I didn’t know I was capable of making the sounds I would make as my guttural wail filled the hallways of that unit. It could only be the sound of a mother who lost her child. My husband held me as sweet nurses came in, one by one, to hold my hand and kiss my head. Thank you, God. It was obvious they had been crying too.

I cannot describe the agony of pressing the call button to have the nurse take her body to the cooler. Never to be seen again.

In the weeks that followed, friends and even strangers from church brought meals and mowed our lawn. They bought groceries so I didn’t have to go out in public. Coworkers babysat our toddler so my husband and I could grieve or go on a date. Some said prayers, sent keepsakes, books, or flowers. Others wrote letters, texts, and emails. Thank you, God. I wrote down every act of love and saved every card as a beautiful part of Aubrey’s story; these are some of my favorite memories of her.

This outpouring of thoughtfulness helped me through the places that would come next. It would be a place with an empty nursery, returned baby gifts, a funeral home, and dying flowers. There would be a deflated abdomen, breasts aching for the babe that would never come, nightmares, and blood that returned every month to remind me of my loss. There would be bitterness that everyone can forget about her but me.

Within a week, there was no physical evidence that Aubrey existed — no evidence that other people could see, at least. I wondered how many other “normal-looking” women around me – at the grocery store, driving in traffic – had a similar sore heart. It made me want to write to my friends who have lost loved ones and tell them I still remember; I still hurt with them even when life looks normal.

God has certainly used Aubrey to make me more sensitive. For example, I hear conversations about pregnancy differently, like “What do you want – a boy or girl?” “I don’t care as long as it’s healthy!” When I see pregnancy announcements, I hurt for the infertile couple reading it. I now realize how painful the question, “How many kids do you have?” can be. I grieve for moms who have had early miscarriages who don’t have pictures to take or their baby’s body to hold. There is so much silent suffering that I desire to acknowledge.

Having Aubrey has also made me more thankful for my faith. We visited a new low and confirmed that God can be found even there. Not even the death of a child can bring me to a place where I’m not able to receive His comfort.

You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong and sound as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn’t you then discover how much you really trusted it?
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Now, a year later, we’re holding on to that faith through a third pregnancy. My husband takes no day for granted and never misses an opportunity to feel a kick. We look at my expanding belly and tell God, “If we must, we will walk that path again, as long as You go with us.”

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. – Joshua 1:9

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(Read the rainbow birth story of Aubrey’s little sister here)

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Click HERE to learn more about the Community Birth Stories Project or to submit your own birth story.