Community Birth Story: Saoirse

Community Birth Story: Saoirse

As told by Nannette:   12642790_10205936114948161_8485059573286676699_n

I have to tell some back story first. I never wrote my birth stories for my first two children, which I plan to rectify starting here.

Jonah was my firstborn. I had just finished my nurse-midwife training program and taken my board exams. That was a long grueling 3 years, during which I got pregnant and miscarried. I discovered I was pregnant with Jonah just weeks after I passed my midwifery boards. The news arrived the same day our miscarried baby would have been due. Bittersweet. I was a young midwife just starting her homebirth practice, and I knew immediately I would have a homebirth with my son. My mother had cesareans for all 3 of us. But it was for a known problem related to an auto accident messing up her pelvis. I never doubted that these strong Irish hips could handle childbirth. There were not many choices of midwives in my area, but we settled on a very nice midwife and started the journey. I convinced my husband, who had just started his first full time job, to invest the time in Bradley classes (along with my best friend who was going to be at my birth as support and photographer). Things bumped along, I was having a healthy pregnancy and was busy with side jobs while I started my little homebirth practice. My due date came and went, but no biggie, I was a primip. Weekly visits with the midwife became concerning, though, as my son did not engage in my pelvis as he should have. When I passed the 42 week mark, and he was still not engaged despite regular bouts of prodromal labor, I went to see my “backup” hospital midwife on a Wednesday afternoon at 4pm. We had a BPP done, and it wasn’t great. And they told me Jonah (I found out he was a boy at this point) was 12.5 lbs, which frankly scared me as a first timer. And he was still not engaged. And my hospital midwife, who had been my preceptor in midwifery training, looked at me and bluntly said, ” you know the answer, Nannette. You just need to make up your mind.” I cried and asked to be induced (which wasn’t a good idea because he was so high in my pelvis and showing signs of stress), and then I accepted that my son was going to be born by cesarean. I looked at the doctor and asked to have it done right away. “If I go home, I don’t know if I can make myself come back.” So Jonah Graham was born at 7:21pm on June 29th by cesarean section weighing 10lbs8oz. It was a surreal experience. I was on automatic pilot for a lot of it. One thing I remember the most was how I panicked and almost cancelled the plan when I was getting the spinal anesthesia (they stuck me several times and kept hitting a nerve, which was excruciating and nearly sent me into a panic attack). The spinal finally took, I got draped and swabbed, the docs did their thing, and when I heard them lift him out of my stomach I didn’t breath again until he cried. And then I let myself break down. That was the start of a long, dark slide into postpartum depression. A story for another day.

Fast forward 10 months. I am in the middle of getting help for the PPD when I become pregnant again. We had treated Jonah for torticullis and we linked his malposition to an injury that I had had around 36 weeks that apparently had really torqued my pelvis. So with regular chiropractic care I was confident this was a problem that would not repeat itself. I was working with a midwife that was confident in VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), and I decided to plan a homebirth for my second baby. I worked through the PPD and the emotional issues that surround having a VBAC, and reached 36 weeks with our baby girl. She turned breech at that point, and it forced me to stop working and pay attention to her. We did 2 weeks of alternative/complementary techniques and successfully turned her back to head down. I then got extremely ill from the flu about a week before her due date. Not cool. In hindsight, I should have been hospitalized. On Easter Sunday, my 40 week mark, we were eating dinner with my husband’s mother, and contractions began. They felt like the prodromal ones I’d had with Jonah, which was encouraging! They slowly intensified through the night, and at 7am the next morning I was dealing with them in the living room and prayed for a clear sign because I wasn’t sure if I was being a wuss about them or if I was really in labor. Than, hallelujah, my water broke! It was on! My labor had started spontaneously at 40 weeks and 1 day! Major VBAC milestone! I was in active labor by late morning, but it was a really rough day. I constantly vomited and became dehydrated, and also had some terrible pelvic pain which even the chiropractor could not resolve with a visit while I was in labor. I reached 8 cm and the contractions started to wane. I nearly fell asleep in the pool. And it wasn’t the good sleep that midwives are thankful for, a pause to gather yourself. It was an exhaustion borne of utter depletion. I called my birth team and said, “I know I can do this. But I don’t think I can do it here.” And with that we called the hospital, praised God that Dr. Baltierra was on, and I counted in my head the 4 contractions I would endure in the car for the ride to the hospital. I got to JMH, checked in, got an epidural, eventually got an IUPC and pitocin to get contractions going again, and about 5 hours after I arrived at the hospital I woke up in a panic because the epidural WASN’T WORKING ANYMORE!!! And lo and behold I was complete and ready to push! They hiked me up and got out the mirror and at 5:39am on April 2nd, 2013, I pushed my beautiful 10 lb daughter out in 20 minutes! I did it! I birthed vaginally! And then I blacked out when I sat up to nurse and we discovered I had been severely anemic, probably an effect of the severe flu I should have been hospitalized for, and I had to get blood transfusions even though I had hardly bled with the birth. I also suffered some SPD damage and couldn’t walk normally for several weeks. But it was worth it for my VBAC!!

So fast forward 2 years. I was a very busy homebirth midwife at the time. I had recently gone through some very stressful transitions in my business partnership, and was praying for a year without change, just some stability so I could heal from the pretty bad emotional trauma. My daughter was weaning, and I knew that a pregnancy was possible soon. I am lucky enough to not ovulate until my babies stop nursing altogether. My cycle started, and repeated, and as the third round was finishing I looked at my husband and said, “all bets are off, you know.” We didn’t attempt to prevent, and sure enough, there was a positive. As stressful as it was, I was also thankful for the gift of another baby. I knew I would not be able to keep up the pace I was at with another child, and made the decision at that point, after a lot of prayer and counsel, to grow my homebirth practice instead of close it. God was watching out, and at the same time I decided I would hire one or two midwives, I was contacted by 2 midwives who were just what I wanted for Riverside. So I entered the second trimester with a good plan for work/family balance and the knowledge that this time I was going to get a proper maternity leave. I was so thankful for a healthy pregnancy. It was the best of all of them. I had good help, I was getting good sleep and exercise, I didn’t gain weight until the last few weeks. My belly measurements were consistently on track, which was better than my first two pregnancies which had always measured ahead, so my midwives thought this baby was going to be smaller which was nice to think of having had 10+lb’rs. I had amazing community support and was shown so much love by truly incredible women I am blessed to know and work with! I even got a surprise mother blessing! Jonah and Tabi were in love with the baby and so interested and involved in the pregnancy. I had an ultrasound but the baby wouldn’t play the gender reveal game, so it was really a surprise! We had a boy name and a girl name, Jonah and Tabi were excited to be there for the birth, and my midwife was really wonderful for me, a great pregnancy all around. I was “due” December 29th, so Jonah was expecting a Christmas time baby which just blew his 4 year old mind with anticipation. Christmas came, and went. New Year’s came as well, and went. The week after came. And went. And the mind games that accompany going overdue began. Thankfully, this was not my first VBAC, I knew my body was quite capable. And I thought this was a boy baby, so I figured maybe my boy babies just go late. I was encouraged and supported, and got wonderful help from friends and my fellow birthworkers during this time. I didn’t do anything really aggressive to start labor as I wasn’t worried over anything. I was fine, baby was fine, it was just taking a bit. I had a cervical exam at 41 weeks or so, and it was favorable, and I got a BPP done at 42 weeks, and it was just fine. But going overdue is emotionally taxing, and I cried on more than one morning when I woke up still pregnant. I worked on a labor music list. I crowd sourced some suggestions for music with a heavy bass line that would just carry you along without thinking. I didn’t to think too much. I’m a midwife, and know a lot, and I didn’t need to go down certain lines of thought. I was fine, baby was fine, my midwives were relaxed, I was just gestating a while.

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On a Wednesday evening April 13th, 42 weeks and 1 day, I had some regular almost-contractions, and we inflated the pool just in case. But Thursday morning, I woke up well slept and still pregnant. On Friday evening, some good friends took my kids to the local Backyard Inflatables while I got acupuncture. I was relaxed, and we made plans to get some Glory Doughnuts for breakfast the next morning. You should definitely get doughnuts from them some time. Ah-mazing. So Saturday morning, January 16th, I woke up around 6am. The house was quiet, and I felt like getting up and just hanging out by myself. I had a few of the usual braxton hicks as I was sitting in my rocker petting one of the cats. I noticed they had some good pelvic floor pressure to them, which was an encouraging thought as that meant baby’s head was where it should be. But they were just BH as usual. My husband got up around 8:00, kids were sleeping in from getting worn out playing the evening before. We did a few chores, and I mentioned the doughnuts plan. So he left at 9:00 to get some. I took a picture of my sweet sleeping kids, climbing up on the bunk bed (timestamp 9:26am). No contractions. Just a nice, quiet Saturday morning. My midwives texted to check in. One midwife mentioned coming by to do some things to maybe encourage labor. I let her know I’d had some braxton hicks that had a little pressure to them, but that my kids weren’t awake yet so I didn’t think labor would start knowing they were about to get up. Then, I had one. A painful contraction. Not too long, but definitely different. Jonah woke up at 9:40, came downstairs. I had another one. I sent him to watch some cartoons and realized I had been a little short tempered with him. I had another one. I decided to go upstairs, and couldn’t get up the stairs before another hit. Well, well! I made it to my bathroom and texted my husband, “on your way back?” (timestamp 9:57am). My midwife texted a two part question, and I barely had time to text back “yeah”. (she later said she immediately knew it was time to come, that was not a usual texting style for me). Within 20 minutes of the first contraction I was in full blown labor. I could only stand, I had the sudden fear of my water breaking in my pants and undressed. I started vocalizing. I remember thinking vaguely “if it feels better to make noise then I must be in active labor?” The contractions hurt. A lot. And were fast. I couldn’t time them. I couldn’t text or call anyone. I couldn’t do anything. I tried to kneel, and couldn’t handle being bent and stood right back up. I paced around the bathroom, and kept saying in an attempt to keep myself grounded “this is how babies are born, this is how babies are born, oh God, this is how babies are born” as I experienced huge amounts of pressure with seemingly eternal contractions with hardly time to breath twice between them (later the chart said they were 90 seconds long and 30 seconds apart, so I wasn’t imagining it). My husband got up there, got the pool filling, got the babysitter and photographer on the way, texted the midwives (or called) to make sure they were enroute. In short he did a great job getting things in place and rolling. I starting feeling lightheaded and a little panicky, the contractions were even stronger. Chris, one of my midwives, arrived at 10:40. I started to cry and kept saying they hurt. She was very calm, listened to baby with the doppler, and started getting things out. She encouraged me to try to get in the pool. I felt locked in standing mode, afraid to move lest the contractions get EVEN stronger. But I managed to scoot over to the pool and climb in (at 11:00 per the chart). As I sunk into the water the next contraction crested. That was kind of awful. The feeling of my belly getting buoyant but then getting driven down in the contraction. The next one was better though, and I settled into the pool. The contractions got a little more spaced, maybe a minute apart, but then I started feeling them in my legs. Thankfully I was in the water, the pain in my thighs wouldn’t have been great with standing up. I complained. A lot. And cried, and repeated that things hurt and that I couldn’t do this forever. But I mostly had my eyes closed and my face down making lots of noise. A little after 11:00 I looked up and Lindsey, my photographer, had arrived. Grace arrived at that point, too. Grace has been with me a long time. My first birth assistant when I started catching babies while pregnant with Jonah. My doula for Tabi’s birth. My friend. And planning to catch this baby as my student midwife.

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Bradley was there (I made a point to clock his presence as I had actually blanked out his presence at Tabi’s birth).

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I looked up at some point and saw Jonah sitting on the side of the bed watching me labor. Mary was there, my good friend and my children’s nanny, I never worried about Jonah and Tabi being cared for.

At this point I feel like I was being dramatic but just needed to be allowed to not have my s*%^ together for once. This labor felt like a tsunami and I was just rolling around in the water underneath. I think I repeated that I couldn’t do this for 6 more hours and Grace assured me it wasn’t going to be that long. After what seemed like FOREVER my water broke (timestamp 11:10). My midwife voice automatically asked if the water was clear, which it was.

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I had some urge to push with that contraction. And then I had a blessed, blessed, 2 minute pause. I came up for air. My head cleared. I thought, and I think I said, “I can do this part. I know how to push.” Because I did. I revisited how I had pushed Tabi out in 20 minutes, my first vaginal birth. And how proud I had been (and am) of that. I had no idea how long I had been in labor for, but now it was time to push and I came back to center. Everyone was quiet. My ears were kind of ringing. I don’t know how loud I was on the outside, but there had been a whole lot going on in my head and it had all stopped. That long, blessed, 2 minute break. And then the contraction came and the deep, throat/abdomen/pelvic “HUHHHH” started. My body was pushing. A couple of contractions, and I clearly felt the round head of my baby descend. It did not feel like pooping. It felt like a large round hard thing moving down in my pelvis. That was my baby’s head! I hadn’t felt this with Tabi, being on the epidural. It was AMAZING to be aware of it. I felt some burning and said something like “am I crowning?! Please tell me I’m crowning!”, to which there was no reply. Crickets. “Crap, I’m not crowning…” Next contraction. There was some burning, which I clearly identified to be at the place I had had a minor tear with Tabi’s birth. I was ok with that. I was breathing through these. Not really on purpose. I was just trying to ride these suddenly close again contractions that were pushing my baby out. All of my energy was focused, I had to stay stretched out, one hand out on the side of the pool, body extended back. A straight path for the baby. Nothing in the way. My body doing its thing like I’d know from my first pregnancy that it could. I breathed and grunted and didn’t add any pushing effort and the baby came down and around and I felt the head birth. So amazing. I heard Jonah and Tabi’s voices, they were there at the pool side and saw the baby’s head and face. I had really hoped they would have that experience of seeing their sibling enter the world.

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A minute passed, and another. I felt midwives’ hands back there. No one was worried, though I wasn’t really looking at faces, and I wasn’t worried. I did have the sudden thought that this had been long enough and it was time to push baby out. So I did push to finish the birth. And then I heard those words, “grab your baby!” I reached down, and glimpsed cord around the baby’s neck as Grace did, we turned baby in the water to unwind the cord and bring baby up.Saoirse2016-35

And there she was. My baby girl. Born at 11:27am, less than 2 hours from the first recognizable contraction. “It’s done!” She took a minute to breath. It had, after all, been a fast birth. I gave her some puffs and stimulation to her back and feet she drew in her first air. Grace helped her with some postural drainage. I cried and thanked God it was over.

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Tabi was absolutely thrilled that it was a girl!! “It’s a girl, it’s Saoirse!”

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And she lifted her sweet little hand up and my baby was with me. Oh lordy. The tears <3

She weighed 9lbs 4 oz, nearly a pound less than my others. My postpartum experience was worlds away better. Resting in my own bed, being well taken care of, my children coming to see their baby sister. Normal, unhurried, quiet. As a midwife, I work hard to provide this experience to families. And I had finally had it myself. It was truly my best birth. And one of the best times of my life.

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Something came up the week after the birth that I want to include here. There is a blog that I follow, Birth Without Fear, by a woman name Jan. Last year she had described being pregnant again; she had had cesareans, than a VBAC, than another baby, and was planning a homebirth again. She went overdue, and one morning woke up and knew it was time to have her baby and had a walk in cesarean. She felt empowered, she owned her decision and experience. But she described having an emotional breakdown just before the surgery, and how she had realized based on her past birth experiences that she was transitioning emotionally at that moment as she was getting ready to meet her baby. It was an incredibly healing read for me. I had experienced labor in all its raw, unmediated strength. I had “lost it” for a bit, felt panicky, cried, let out a lot of emotion. And I realized that I had done that before with Tabi’s birth, when I woke up panicky and ready to push. And I realized that the moment when I almost broke down while preparing for Jonah’s surgical birth HAD BEEN MY TRANSITION MOMENT. Realizing that connected all my births. It healed something I thought I had been over in my experience with Jonah. I did birth him. I went through the depths emotionally, though not necessarily physically. I realized I had carried some shame about how I almost had a panic attack with the spinal being inserted at Jonah’s birth. And with waking up all freaking out at Tabi’s birth. But those were my transition moments. It’s just what I do. I have to let go for a minute. And just let things happen. And just birth my babies.

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Birth photos credit: Lindsey Welch Photography

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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: Cypress Zofia

Community Birth Story: Cypress Zofia

cypress1 As told by Amanda:

For many women contractions start at the onset of early labor and within a day or two a beautiful baby arrives earth-side. For others contractions start weeks away from our child’s birth day, and it can become exhausting and frustrating. I had experience prodromal labor with my first, but wasn’t prepared for how much I would endure with our second.

First I’ll back up and give a bit of history on how we came about our providers. Initially we discussed a home birth, but the house we lived in was dirty with mold and mildew. The thought of being pregnant there worried me, and the thought of birthing a child into that house was revolting. So I talked to many local women and decided on an OB who had the reputation of being quite natural. But a few short weeks after starting care with him we were able to get out of our lease and purchase a beautiful home.

So Eric and I started discussing a home birth and looking into options. The pickings here are slim and I knew right away one provider wasn’t for us. That left one practice about 45 minutes away. I met with the 3 midwives (New Moon Midwifery), who worked seamlessly together, and loved them from the start. However, with the distance and notoriously bad Ohio winters we were hesitant. At around 25 weeks I just didn’t feel comfortable discussing my birth plan with my OB, and he didn’t seem receptive. So I transferred care to a midwife group that would deliver in the hospital. By my second appointment I knew that wasn’t right either. So we hoped for good weather, and that New Moon would take me at such a late time. To our relief they did!

At 30 weeks I started with consistent evening contractions. Every 7 minutes, always 45 seconds apart. At first they lasted only an hour, two at the most. So we (myself and my midwives) weren’t terribly concerned. But around 32 weeks, despite proper hydration and rest I had several hours of contractions. Since I was still early I was advised to go to the hospital. After a few hours there I was released with no reason as to why I was contracting so much, and by about the second hour I was no longer having them. Fast forward to 35 weeks and it was the same. This time I was able to go to a much closer hospital that was a bit more thorough. After some insistence on my part, they tested my electrolytes. My sodium was low, and after some lactated ringers they stopped. Now that sodium was on my radar I was able to avoid anymore hospital visits, but I still had plenty of prodromal labor.

It was becoming worrisome to me at this point that I wouldn’t get a clear line as to when I was actually in labor. With Halley my water never broke – and I was worried I’d be conservative when needing to call. My midwives, however, reassured me that even if it were a false alarm there was no burden on them for the drive. So I paid very close attention to my contractions, noting how they were moving and how my body was responding. At nearly 38 weeks I made the call to have them come down. Jamie and my doula, Martha, headed down. My contractions had been closer than usual and felt slightly different so we felt it was time for them to come. I was also feeling anxious which I hadn’t previously. After about 2 hours there was no change, and by 3 they fizzled out. They left and I was feeling even more upset. I kept asking myself, “How will I ever know when it’s time, and will I make that call in enough time for someone to get here?”

Then, on the morning of February 22nd, I woke up and started having contractions. I had yet to have contractions in the morning, so either my body was gearing up for baby time or I was in for several more days/weeks of all-day prodromal. At around 9am I called Anna, the midwife on call, and explained to her what was going on. They were every

10 minutes, 45 seconds long and felt slightly different than my usual contractions. She was glad I called and told me to keep her updated if anything changed. At this point I had no other big shift. I had been loosing my mucous plug for weeks, and my water hadn’t broken either.

At around 2:30 Eric left with Halley, and around 4:30 my contractions had shifted to 7 minutes apart. I called Anna, and she said she would come down to be with me after she had finished a few things in Ann Arbor. It was around 6:30/7 PM that she arrived. At this point Eric had come home, but we decided to leave Halley at his parent’s house. Anna checked me and I was at 4cm, but we both knew that didn’t really mean anything. I was 3cm with Halley for over a week – so it wasn’t a reliable indicator. She didn’t want to leave yet because the baby was so low, if there was a shift she felt labor would progress quickly.

So Anna got busy with some work, and I sat down and watched “Wildest Africa”. Why I picked this I have NOOOO idea. But the narrators voice was so soothing. I don’t’ really remember any of the actual content. Just his voice. I still find that comical today. My contractions felt stronger, but not strong enough. For several hours we hung out like this. Anna recommended I try lying down, but I couldn’t get comfortable. At one point I got up from lying down and could feel the baby move down. I told her such, and we decided to check again. I had only progressed about ½ a cm, but the baby had moved down even more. Halley was not willing to stay at my in-laws, so Eric went and got her.

At this point she felt I should try to sleep. That could either speed up contractions or stop them. Either way, she was staying the night. She lived 1.5 hours away, and didn’t want to get on the road, only to turn back. So I went to bed, and she chose the couch to lay on. This was around 10:30pm. By 11:00 my contractions had really picked up in intensity, and I had stopped timing them at this point as well. Intense back pain accompanied as well. I came out to the play room and woke Anna. We headed into the bedroom, as she wanted to see me have a contraction. I laid in bed, and she watched. But apparently I have some sort of performance anxiety and several minutes went on without a contraction. She decided to get up and grab something and the moment she left the room I had another. This happened several times, and then finally she was able to witness a contraction. She could see how much pain I was in and offered to rub my back and apply counter pressure. After a few contractions we decided I should call my doula, and she the other midwife (2 attend each birth) since they both lived 30-45 minutes away). I got up and went to the bathroom and she put plastic down on the bed.

(At this point Halley kept waking and crying, so Eric stayed in her room to help keep her calm and asleep. )

As soon as I laid down another contraction came, and this was stronger. Anna applied counter pressure and I felt a POP inside of me. Moments later water gushed from me, and we knew this was the real thing. I started having one contraction after another. Each one getting stronger. Unfortunately it would seem there was no time to set up and fill/cool the birth pool. Anna applied pressure and massage during contractions, and then ran around setting up needed supplies. At this point neither Martha or Amanda had arrived yet. I’m not sure how long it was before either of them got there. I don’t remember Martha coming into our room, all I remember is that the massage felt different. So I knew she had arrived. When Amanda arrived I recall her telling me she was there. And that’s pretty much all I remember. I was deep in my birth space, breathing slowly and purposefully through each contraction. Between contractions I think I slept…because I honestly don’t remember anything other than the contractions themselves.

Then I had a huge, long contraction. I recall asking Anna, “How much longer of this?” To which she replied, “We don’t know, but I don’t think it will be long now.”

The next contraction I felt the head move down and indicated as much. They could now see her head. The next contraction was one I will never forget. It consumed my entire body. My lungs felt squeezed so tightly that I couldn’t breath. At this point I had kept a nice breathing pattern down, and let my body go with the ebb and flow. But this contraction took me by surprise. I recall thinking to myself, “will this ever stop…will I ever breath again?” And when it let up I began gasping for air. Someone reassured me I was OK, and to breath deep again. At which point I found my calm again.

There were a few pushes for her head, and some light burning. But once her head birthed her entire body just slithered out effortlessly.

At 1:36am Cypress Zofia was born and promptly placed on my chest. Eric was able to be by my side for the birth, and we loved on her as we waited for the placenta to deliver. Since her cord was so short she stayed on my belly for about 15 minutes, at which time the placenta was delivered. Once it stopped pulsing they cut the cord and we started to establish breastfeeding. She cried and fussed at the breast for an hour, and Anna said in her experience babies that come quickly have a lot to say at first. But once she settled in she was quite content. Eric and I lay in bed together enjoying the sight of our new baby girl, while the midwives and Martha cleaned up, prepared an herbal bath and food for me. After about three hours, and making sure Cypress and I were healthy, they left and we all drifted off to sleep.

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Emily Anne Photography

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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: Ivy

Community Birth Story: Ivy

Ivy’s birth story
(Homebirth after a stillbirth)

After the late-term loss of our 2nd pregnancy last year, my dreams of any “normal” future pregnancy experience were shattered. I knew even if we got pregnant again, there would not be another baby shower nor blissfully ignorant jokes or conversations about what to expect.

When we found out I was pregnant for the 3rd time, indeed it was a different journey. There was more crying, fewer announcements, more gratitude, and fewer purchases made ahead-of-time. Honoring our stillborn daughter during this pregnancy was important to me. I discovered that the people who weren’t able to be with us through the heartache of a stillbirth were not the people I wanted to keep close in this new joy; I knew they wouldn’t be sensitive to the impossible mix of emotions I was experiencing. I was mourning one baby while (hopefully) preparing for another child – a child who would not have existed had our previous baby lived.

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The well-intentioned yet hurtful comments we received about how we should be feeling caused us to prune many long-held relationships. “It’s time to move on. Focus on the positives.” “You’re just being cynical; this one is going to be fine.” It was devastating for my overly-sensitive heart. In our suffering, though, we also made new friends who knew grief, who understood the volatility of plans, and were not afraid to talk about this life in terms of what it is…unpredictable.

“No one really knows what is going to happen;
no one can predict the future.” – Ecclesiastes 10:14

My heart felt safe around a precious few women who weren’t afraid of my tears, and I was so relieved when three of them agreed to serve us for a planned homebirth.

My first two labors had each progressed quickly, so when I was full-term and had my first several, regular, painful contractions for an hour, our team decided to come over. They were all coming from a distance and a concern had been that if we didn’t call soon enough, we would have an unattended birth.

It hadn’t really occurred to me that the opposite could happen. Sure enough, by the time our team arrived in the wee hours past midnight, my contractions had become completely irregular. Our midwife made the assessment that it was time for everyone to get some rest while we still could. She and her assistant found empty beds upstairs.

Unfortunately, I was far too energized to sleep; I also felt pressure to keep trying to get labor to progress since our birth team came from so far away. Our doula stayed awake a bit longer with me and my husband downstairs. We ended up watching World Cup soccer re-runs until I finally conceded to sleep.

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As the sun was rising, I woke up to a contraction that broke my water. My husband and our doula woke up, too, and we decided to go outside. The temperature was perfect and the first of the birds were singing their morning songs. I supposed an outside stroll might be leisurely while labor ramped up, but I immediately needed support for every contraction and I didn’t have much time between them.

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We quickly came back inside when I had the immediate and unfortunate urge to evacuate everything from my body. The sound of my vomiting alerted the ladies upstairs that I was progressing. They came downstairs and checked the baby’s heart rate in between my urgent trips to the bathroom.

Someone suggested that I could just stay on the toilet for a while, facing backwards. That sounded great, so I conveniently picked the smallest bathroom in the house, the foyer half-bath. (It’s also directly under our toddler’s bedroom upstairs, but he amazingly slept through everything.) Our precious doula stood behind me and I held her hands with each all-consuming contraction as I closed my eyes and visualized the baby descending.

I was surprised when my body started to push only about 30 minutes into my toilet time. I made a panicked announcement to our midwife that I was pushing. She made the sweetest suggestion that I come off the toilet, but I couldn’t fathom how I would move.
Fortunately, after one more pushing contraction, I found a brief moment of motivation to flop off the toilet onto my hands and knees on the wooden floor in the foyer hall. The 3ft wide hallway wasn’t much of an improvement in location, but this would have to do because the head was delivered with the next contraction. In my mind, there was calm in the moment that followed as I patiently waited for the next contraction that would deliver the shoulders. I appreciated the fact that I had been sleeping just over an hour ago, and now I was having a baby.

Our midwife guided the baby onto the towels underneath me, but I couldn’t make myself look. Now, I was re-living the birth of our dead daughter’s body a year ago; I remembered her paleness, lack of muscle tone, and the silence of that delivery room.

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For many minutes, I didn’t want to hold this baby — not even touch them or know the gender. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to push out the placenta. I didn’t want to do anything. So, I knelt there in the hallway with my head buried in my husband’s shoulder as sweet women reached around and under me to tend to my baby in a way that I could not. They felt like angels to me.

As I lingered, hovered over my child who I couldn’t touch, feeling like a failure as a mother, this babe reached out from under the towels and their fingers wrapped around my thumb. I sobbed while I soaked up God’s forgiveness and love in my sorrow and weakness. It was a healing, quiet, prayerful experience allowing this to be the birth that I dared to hope it would be.

My husband cut the cord and revealed the gender. Oh, how my heart broke as I simultaneously rejoiced to know I had another daughter. Ivy is the name we would choose. Tears flowed readily.
I still ache for heaven (and that’s a good thing), but I surely will be grateful for the days God gives me to hold our rainbow baby down here.

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Certainly, she is something beautiful right now.

(The stillbirth story of Ivy’s big sister can be found here)

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