homebirth | Two Rivers Childbirth

Community Birth Story: Cora Maeve (Pt. 1)

By Two Rivers Childbirth
August 12, 2015
Birth Stories Project

As told by Kaylah:

I desperately wanted to stay pregnant until at least 39 weeks. Certainly because it was best for my baby, but more specifically because that was when my midwife would return from her summer vacation and be available to attend the birth. We had hired her only a handful of weeks prior to my due date after wrestling with my apprehension around delivering in a hospital for the majority of my pregnancy. My primary prenatal care had been with the CNM’s at Midwifery Care Associates and my original plan was to deliver with them at Frederick Memorial Hospital. However, a tour of the Labor and Delivery unit early into my third trimester triggered me deeply, resurrecting feelings of powerlessness and fear from a previous birth in which I had experienced emotional trauma. It didn’t occur to me then that I needed to face those feelings, I just thought it was a sign that I really needed to pursue the home birth I had been secretly wishing for all along. Nathan and I loved Zaina when we interviewed her. Something about her quiet, gentle presence made me feel safe and comfortable, and her willingness to take me on so late in the game was a blessing. A lot of my prayerful and meditative energy went towards the intention of “stay in there, baby”.

39 weeks came and went, as did a full moon, a meteor shower, an acupuncture session on my “due” date, and lots and lots of contractions, but not much in the way of labor action. The end of my pregnancy was a psychological paradox. On the one hand, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. My ankles were enormous, my sacrum moaned with every trip up and down the stairs, my bladder was no help at all. And yet, when faced with the idea of an actual conclusion to the ride, I found I kept wanting to go hide. There were some big unknowns that created a low level anxiety in me as my due date approached; an ultrasound that had pointed to the high likelihood that our daughter would be born with clubfoot – a common congenital birth defect, our four older children were all in the throes of different stages of teenage development with accompanying challenges, and our landlord wanted to sell the house we were living in (and we weren’t exactly in a good financial position to buy). To say that I felt tempted to put my head in the sand on a daily basis would be an understatement.

Three days past my due date, while sitting on the birth ball and reading a brochure for a college my eldest daughter was considering applying to, the Braxton Hicks contractions that had been like a constant companion for weeks began to feel a bit more insistent. I circled my hips in one direction for a while and felt the next contraction intensify considerably. It commanded a kind of noticing that felt familiar to me. Three of my four previous labors had all begun slowly with that exact same kind of noticing. I kept the initial sensations to myself, just paying attention and staying with the circular movement that seemed to both elicit the intensity and simultaneously feel good. I couldn’t help but feel excited. Even more exciting, I was texting back and forth with my younger sister who was also pregnant and past her due date – and she was feeling the same. Her prodromal labor of days and days was ramping up that very afternoon and I began to hold hope that the end of the day would bring babies for us both. Cousin Twins, we’d call them. Both babies had Taurus due dates but were clearly Geminis through and through.

At some point, the regularity and continued intensity of the surges lead me to tell Nathan that I really felt like things were under way. My previous labors all had a long drawn out early stage, followed by a fast paced, relatively short active labor. I knew that once things kicked into high gear, we were mere hours away from meeting our little girl. We went on a walk in the park in the early evening hours to see if the activity would hasten things along. It worked. My contractions jumped from 8-10 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart. I was finding it necessary to stop and sway with Nathan to get through each one. After a loop of the park, I wanted to go home and get in the shower and be loud. We called the midwife and our birth photographer. My best friend, Victoria, alerted the women who had attended my Blessingway. Candles were lit. Prayers and good energy sent. Someone filled the birth pool. I felt as though I was being swept forward into the tunnel of my labor. I got into the shower and sighed with relief. The hot water felt so good. After a few minutes of swaying under the stream, I had the jarring sensation of stepping off of a roller coaster. I felt a little wobbly on my feet, but no more contractions. That’s really weird, I thought to myself. And then after many more minutes without another contraction – the anxiety set in. Wait, what just happened? What did I do wrong? And – Oh crap, we called the midwife too soon! Zaina lived over an hour away but was nearly to our house at that point. Lindsey, our birth photographer, was already downstairs readying her cameras. The true dread that accompanies performance anxiety flooded my body. I got out of the shower and got dressed and had another contraction, but it was a wimpy little thing. When I emerged from my bathroom, I found my bedroom filled with people; the midwife setting up her supplies, Lindsey with her camera, Victoria in the rocking chair telling funny stories about her dogs a little too loudly. The lights were dim and the room was clean, but I began to feel claustrophobic and my impulse was to run away from that space. I don’t remember what I said or if I even spoke, but I managed to leave the house with Nathan to go on another walk. I had an enormous welling of emotion and cried as we walked, feeling both broken and embarrassed. We stayed out for a long time and eventually the contractions returned, irregular but painful. I wanted to get into the birth tub but we needed to check in with Zaina. Before we returned to the house I asked Nathan to makes sure no one was in my bedroom. I needed privacy and quiet – the exact opposite of what I had envisioned before labor started – but I didn’t know how to ask for it myself. I needed to enter my birth space vulnerable, open and ready to work, but my head space was still fixated on fulfilling perceived expectations about how things would unfold, including my own. Zaina was concerned that if I wasn’t quite in active labor yet, getting into the tub might stall things again. I asked her to check me to find out where things were. At that point I was sitting at 3-4 cm and not completely effaced. The contractions had spaced way out again after returning to the house. We agreed that I would stay out of the tub and try to get some rest. The rest of the night I tossed and turned, flopping my enormous belly from one side to the other, trying to get comfortable, still experiencing incredibly uncomfortable contractions every so often. By morning they were completely gone. It was like waking up from a dream about being in labor. I got up and found Zaina in the living room. Nathan made us breakfast and coffee. We talked for a bit about my fears and the other emotional components that had come up the night before. I voiced that I felt embarrassed. Like the “Little Girl Who Cried Labor”. As she packed to leave she assured me that it was okay. I really wanted to believe her. I felt frustrated with my body but worked to let it go. My one joy that morning was the news that my sister had given birth to a beautiful baby girl the night before. Welcome to the world, Scarlett Stone Collins!

I had to avoid Facebook after that. The concerned friends and family and their unanswerable questions only mounted my anxiety. After a bit of messaging back and forth with a friend, I tried to really do some digging into my fears in a concrete way. Something big and emotional was holding me back but the list of possible contenders to choose from was crowded and complicated. I decided to address one of the most potent and pressing of my stressors head on. My eldest daughter, Madeleine, was finishing her junior year of high school and had expressed her own anxiety about the baby entering our world many times. She feared being replaced and our very established family routines and rhythms becoming mangled. She feared losing my presence in her life during her last year at home. This mirrored my own fear of there not being enough of me to go around, which is really an echo of one of my oldest and most persistent fears; that I am not enough. I sat down to write her a loving letter, expressing every single thing that my heart needed to say to her before the baby came and shifted our shared landscape. Something in me softened as I hit send on the email. Shortly after, the cramping in my low back returned in earnest. The sensations mirrored the false start from three days earlier. I tried not to get excited. Stay calm, stay open, stay relaxed. Nathan and I moved to cover our bases…dogs were sent to a friend’s house so they wouldn’t be under foot, Victoria took off to NoVA to fetch my big kids from their father’s house, midwife called (again) just to touch base and report on action. I tried not to rush to judge the sensations but just be present with them. The kids arrived home. Nathan cooked dinner. I had been looking forward to eating it but lost my appetite before I was able to ingest much. Everyone wanted to stay up and party in preparation for baby, but I insisted that we would wake them all up when it was really go time so they could be present. When I could no longer talk through contractions we called Zaina to come. Lindsey also got the heads up and Nathan and I took a walk. I loved being outside. The air was heavy and warm. Nathan helped me hold up my enormous belly with each surge, taking some of the pressure off my pubic bone and lower back. We kissed a LOT. I could have spent my entire labor in the arms of my husband, lips locked, surrounded by dark, warm night. I marveled at the analgesic effect that making out had on the pain of my contractions. I have no idea how long we were out. Probably hours.

When we returned home we found our extra guests sleeping on couches and we retreated upstairs to the quiet of our bedroom. Zaina came in to check my vitals and listen to our baby. It was then that I noticed a drastic decrease in the intensity of my contractions. Baby was doing fine and Zaina suggested I sleep if at all possible, in case I woke up to active labor. Nathan fell asleep and I stayed up a while longer to meditate and talk to my baby. I told her that I was ready, that she could come when she was ready, that so many people loved her already. I must’ve dozed during my meditation because when I opened my eyes, my birth music playlist had completed a full 120 minute cycle and was beginning again. I went to bed only lightly cramping, feeling resigned.

The next morning I said goodbye to Zaina who left to attend a few appointments nearby, Lindsey had departed before we all woke. I was starting to feel like a really bad birth joke. My mood wasn’t great. Later that afternoon, my mom arrived. She had come up from my sister’s house in Durham where she attended the birth of Scarlett and was excited to learn she just might be present for the birth of our baby as well. Mom is a retired labor and delivery nurse and attended the births of two of my other children. I was grateful for her presence. We tried to enjoy her visit without focusing too much on the possibility that the baby might not come during her stay. She was scheduled to fly on to Maine about a week later. Meanwhile, the midwives at MCA, who I continued to see for co-care (just in case) had asked me to come in weekly for a non-stress test (NST) since I was already past my due date and in the “advanced maternal age” camp. My mom accompanied Nathan and I for our appointment the next day where we encountered an office nurse with a truly unpleasant bedside manner.

“Bottoms off and get on the table!” she snapped, kind of the way I imagine I’d be spoken to if I were spending the night in jail. I raised an eyebrow and questioned the necessity of removing my pants for a NST and she looked at me like I had asked the dumbest question she had ever heard. “Don’t you want to be checked?”

“Um, no, actually I don’t.” She held my gaze and then shrugged, her irritation with my lack of obedience was apparent.
When she took my blood pressure, no surprise – it was elevated. The whole exchange triggered me. I sat in stony silence while we waited for the midwife to come in. Baby passed the NST beautifully but the midwife was concerned about my BP, combined with being 41+1 and 35 years old. She told me it was her duty to advise me to go straight to the hospital. I shared with her privately that I felt sure my elevated BP was due to the interaction I had with her nurse and requested that we retake it at the end of the day before deciding on a trip to the hospital. She agreed. After a grounding meal of pizza at Pistarros and some processing with my mom and Nathan, I returned to the office just before it closed. I felt calm and relaxed when I walked in only to become triggered moments later when the same rude nurse from earlier came out to call me back for my BP recheck. I couldn’t believe it. Again my BP was high and there was nothing to do but go to the hospital for monitoring. I sort of expected the trip to exacerbate my anxiety, remembering back to the tour of L&D earlier in my pregnancy, not to mention the implications of elevated BP late in pregnancy. In fact, it did just the opposite. We were cared for by incredibly compassionate nurses at FMH who were both funny and kind and the two hour monitoring was a breeze. My BP was only slightly elevated when we arrived and had completely normalized by the time the monitoring was complete. It was a relief to know everything was fine and that we could go back home. We met with the midwife again before leaving and she suggested scheduling induction of labor for the following Wednesday, which was the date I would be 42 weeks exactly. She joked – “If we put it on the calendar, we won’t end up needing to do it!” She told me to go home, eat a spicy meal and have sex, and with any luck I’d go into labor over the weekend. I hadn’t shared with her my plans for a home birth. I figured it was my business where my baby was born and I had covered all of my bases for various potential outcomes. I understood that the policy of Simmonds, Martin and Helmbrecht, the OB practice that served as an umbrella for the midwives of MCA, would not “allow” me to go beyond 42 weeks without intervention, but that wasn’t a battle I was interested in taking on in that moment, as I fully envisioned having my baby at home. I set my intentions on that outcome as we went into the weekend.

(Continued in part 2, here)

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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: Emory Vail

By Two Rivers Childbirth
May 9, 2015
Birth Stories Project

As told by Brittany:

Despite the fact that my first 2 children decided to come post-due date, I was still really hoping that my 3rdwould come earlier. I think pregnancy is such an amazing journey, and one to be cherished and appreciated… but once I hit those last few weeks, a switch is “flipped” in my head where I start to become a crazy/anxious/depressed woman. With this pregnancy, we found out at 20 weeks that we were expecting our 3rd little girl and were ecstatic. As my due date approached, the house had been organized and labeled to oblivion, and I. Was. Ready. After witnessing my friend Beth’s home birth 2 years prior, and then doing a lot of research and soul-searching, I found myself craving the same serene, love-rich environment. Bob and I took the Bradley Method class series from a local instructor, and I also did the Hypnobabies home study course. I was determined to enjoy the process to the fullest extent.

As my due date approached and passed, I became focused on making relaxation my #1 commitment. I saw my chiropractor and acupuncturist often. I listened to my Hypnobabies tracks multiple times a day. I bounced on the birth ball, drank raspberry leaf tea, had sex, ate curry, took baths, ate spicy Mexican food, drank a glass of wine, and tried to listen to my body. On Sunday, March 4th 2012, we awoke with the intent of going to church, getting a bite to eat in town, and then running several errands. I started having pressure waves (contractions) in church, and almost felt annoyed at their presence. I had been having them on and off for a week or more and they never seemed to amount to anything other than continued exhaustion. I mentioned to my friend Ashley in church that I had a few during the service and her excited reaction made me feel loved, but I wasn’t hopeful. The waves weren’t enough to distract me too much, and I could barely tell when they were really starting and stopping. After the service we asked our girls where they wanted to eat lunch, and they requested Red Robin (“they give out BALLOONS, Mom!”). By the time we took our seats at the restaurant and ordered our food, I was noticing the pressure waves more and more. I was surprised that even though I felt relaxed, that they were now staying consistent. I ordered a turkey burger and broke out my cell phone to start keeping track of the waves. As time passed, things started to get more serious and I felt like I needed to get my (normally very comfortable and elastic) skirt off. I inhaled the middle portion of my burger and told Bob it was time to get the check. By the time we got to the car I was ripping off my skirt out of discomfort. We got home around 1:30pm, and I sent our midwives a text to let them know that things were picking up. I was still unsure if they would continue, so I didn’t request them to start driving yet (they live just over an hour away). Bob went into high gear- straightening the house like a tidying madman. He filled up the birth tub with super hot water, assuming it would be a while before I needed it. I sat on my birth ball and tried to welcome the waves, concentrating on the word OPEN. By 3pm I knew we were in business and I figured we might have a baby by morning. The pressure waves were demanding my focus now, so I had Bob call the midwives to tell them to head over. I texted a few friends and let them know to come over. Quickly I lost the ability to concentrate on anything else during the waves and then suddenly I yearned for the tub. I remember thinking that I wanted to wait as long as possible before getting in, afraid it would slow down my labor… but when the time came, there was no stopping me. By 4pm our house was an excited bustle of loving support- we had our family of 4 (almost 5!), our dog Koda, our 3 midwives, 4 friends (Ashley, Maya, Beth, and Kristin), and my mother and stepfather. My pressure waves were demanding so much of my attention that my early labor period (where I thought I would be chatting between waves and baking with company) was nonexistent.

Brielle and Finley, who are 6 and 4 years old, kept busy with the loved ones around, checking in on mommy every so often. They had prepared for the birth by watching many birth videos, reading homebirth-centered books, and had lots of long chats. I was so relieved to see that they didn’t seem scared in the slightest- they went straight to work as I labored; excitedly pouring water on my back or patting my arm as the waves overcame me.

At this point in my head I was making all kinds of sad noises, but those around me said I labored silently. One thing I made quite clear, however- I needed Bob to give counter-pressure to my back labor during EVERY pressure wave. If he rubbed or pressed incorrectly or started 1 second too late, the back pain was unbearable. He has since told me that the amount of pressure I was requesting made him worry that he would rub my skin off, bruise me badly, or both. But it was what I desperately needed and without his patience and stamina, I don’t know how I would have made it through. His concentration on me became my ability to concentrate in labor. If he focused on the girls, or answering someone’s question while I was in a pressure wave it hurt so much worse…. and I let him know it!

At some point during labor one of the midwives whom I had grown very close to came over to check on me and told me, “Brittany, its time to go inside”. From that point on, I got to work. Each pressure wave demanded all of my attention and overall, I really wasn’t “present” at all. I now resided completely in laborland, unable to hear anyone around me unless I purposefully focused (for example, during the times the midwives came to check baby’s heartbeat). Our girls bustled about, chatting with friends or eating dinner downstairs, and the midwives were nearby in the bedroom knitting and listening with stunning wisdom. As long as Bobby was focused on me, I felt in control and focused on letting the waves work their magic. Back labor is no joke, people. I tried to work on my hands and knees as much as possible to move baby into a better position. One of the midwives suggested early on that I roll my hips between the pressure waves and that I squat during them. All of my being was focused on the task of trying not to fight each pressure wave, but to rather let it dilate me more and more.

At times the waves seem short and intense, and after some time, they got longer and sometimes they wouldn’t “let go”. I opened up my hips, lunging on one leg during a pressure wave, and put pressure on the inside of my groin for focus. During the next wave, I placed two fingers inside my vagina to see if baby’s station was progressing (I still had never requested a cervical check by the midwives), and I could feel that baby’s head was really far down. I felt my cervix as the pressure wave continued- a particularly difficult one. This moment I will ever forget. As the pain increased and my body became tense, I felt my cervix hold steady. I was so tired, yet so centered on meeting my baby girl. So I concentrated on relaxing myself (thinking “OPEN”, “RELAX”, “BREATHE”) through the pain, and as I did this, I felt my cervix thin and melt further underneath my fingertips. It was the craziest feeling- I was relaxing myself into dilating! My bag of waters felt smooth like rubber, unbroken.

After a few more pressure waves, I felt some rectal pressure and wondered if I would need to push soon. As the next one started, I realized it wasn’t her head that I needed to push out… it was poop. I motioned towards the bathroom door (only 2 feet away from the tub), climbed out quickly with some assistance, and closed myself into the tiny room. Outside of the bathroom I heard the room erupt in excited chatter, as everyone who had been trying so desperately to respect our quiet space broke concentration with anxious (and loud!) anticipation. I filled the toilet with poop during my next pressure wave; so very happy that I wasn’t in the tub. I made a mental note that I needed to RACE back to my husband’s massaging hands and the warmth of the water because HOLY COW it was so much more painful without them. I quickly wiped, flushed, and flew back to the tub, surprising everyone in the room. My next wave began, and one of the midwives asked me if I had a bowel movement in the bathroom. I nodded yes and got into position again. I felt Bobby touch my butt and I scolded him saying, “stop touching my butt!”. I later found out that I hadn’t quite emptied my colon… and what I thought was hubby’s hands was actually a fishnet taking care of a rogue terd, ha!

On all fours now, despite being relatively silent previously, I started making a deep, guttural sound deep in my chest. I said, “I’m pushing”. This caught everyone by surprise and they all sprung into action, grabbing cameras and yelling for my daughters to come into the room. During that wave, I felt my bag of waters burst into my hand, and her head bulged out right behind it. There was actually no “pushing” on my part- my body was in charge! Her head seemed to pop out suddenly, and my mind was racing.

The next wave came and I squeezed her body out of me, right into my husbands waiting hands. In one smooth movement, I turned over and she was passed under my leg, and then placed on my fast beating heart at 6:51pm.

I held her there in complete shock of the speed at which she was just born. Then I looked and saw her face- pink, alert, and perfect. Intensely beautiful.

Welcome to our world, Emory Vail.

Brielle and Finley somehow were immediately in the pool, and the look on their faces cannot be explained in words. Daddy’s first words were, “She is beautiful, honey!” We all held her, kissed her, and stared at her for quite a while. After about 15 minutes or so, I birthed her placenta. The girls were particularly interested in knowing all about it- the midwife took her time to show them every detail and explained things in depth. Brielle gladly took on the task of cutting the cord. One interesting side note- baby girl had a perfect “true” knot in her cord.

We hung out in the tub and Emory nursed vigorously. She continued to nurse frequently the rest of the evening too. Afterwards, I passed her out of the tub and into the arms of some very eager friends, family, and midwives who continued the lovefest. I showered, got dressed, and got into my very comfortable bed where we nursed and cuddled some more. She weighed in at 8lbs, 4oz and was 19.5inches in length. I felt amazing. My husband looked blissfully content. My older girls were fascinated. And my baby was alert, chubby, and calm. I feel immense gratitude to have experienced Emory’s birth in the comfort of my home with such wise, experienced midwives at hand.

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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

By Two Rivers Childbirth
May 9, 2015
Birth Stories Project

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