homebirth | Two Rivers Childbirth

Community Birth Story: Charlotte Elise

By Two Rivers Childbirth
May 3, 2015
Birth Stories Project

As told by April:

This is the story of my homebirth after two cesareans. The reason for my first cesarean was “suspected big baby” at 39 weeks after my OB told me that he could “induce and you can labor for 24 hours and end up with a cesarean anyway or just have a cesarean.” After my cesarean, he informed me that I had made the right call because “no baby bigger than 6 pounds will ever go through you.” The reason for my second cesarean was reaching 42 weeks with no signs of labor and an unfavorable Bishop score for induction. She ended up in the NICU despite being a 42 week baby and we both said we were never doing that again. In fact, for many months, my husband Stephen wanted to be done having children altogether.

Fast forward to right before my second daughter’s second birthday, I got my big fat positive. Although we had been talking homebirth and planning it, the second I saw that second line, I admit to having second thoughts. I just didn’t believe I could do it. After all, my body just doesn’t work. It doesn’t go into labor.

My pregnancy was mostly uneventful and yet full of one God thing after another. We had a limited ultrasound around 22 weeks to determine the placenta’s location. I was so anxious for this ultrasound as the placenta’s location could very well determine whether or not I could have this baby at home. I went to the ultrasound by myself and just prayed the whole way there for peace and wonderful results. I asked the tech to check the location first as I really didn’t care about anything else. And my placenta was as far away from my scar as it almost possibly could be. What a huge relief and what an answer to prayer. I also managed to remain firm in my resolve not to find out the sex of the baby although I was positively convinced that I was having a boy.

I kind of suspected (although I was really hoping that I was wrong) that I would go post dates. 40 week appointment came and went. 41 week appointment came and went. 42 week appointment came and went. It’s hard to believe how long 2 weeks can be, but those last couple of weeks were longer than the entire pregnancy. I could just feel my baby getting bigger and my doubt growing. My body was meant to do this. Except maybe it wasn’t. Maybe my body is in the 3% of women that actually need a cesarean. The constant questions of “Aren’t you afraid of what might happen to your baby?” and “When are THEY going to induce you?” and “When does this get dangerous?” wore on me and I just wanted to be done. At my 42 week appointment, I asked to be checked. I was so convinced that this was never going to end and that my body wasn’t working and I just needed encouragement. 3-4 cm?! I had never been that dilated before! I asked to do a membrane stretch and sweep. My midwife gave me some castor oil to take home. And then I waited. Nothing still.

I kept feeling like maybe my baby just needed a little kick in the rear to get out of there and I had really really hoped that the membrane sweep would have done it. But no. Stubborn little one remained firm. I decided to take 1/2 ounce of castor oil (which is 1/4 of the recommended dose) and then take a nap. Most lovely nap followed by the most rude awakening.

Labor hit me like a truck (or that’s what it felt like). From the time I woke up to a contraction to when I started pushing, my contractions were 60 seconds long and 60 seconds apart. There was no early labor for me, it was just hard. I texted my mom to come pick up my older two girls (we had initially planned for them to stay with me but my instincts told me that they needed to go) and texted Nannette that I thought I was in labor. She told me that she would come in an hour because “sometimes castor oil can cause false labor.” I remember thinking that there was NO way this was false labor and that she better get there sooner than an hour. Stephen asked if he should fill the tub and I said “no, it’s not time yet.” He, being the man that he is, got right on that and started filling the tub. Nannette checked me soon after she got there and I was already at 7cm. She showed Stephen how to do the hip squeeze and instantly labor got more bearable. I got into the pool on my hands and knees and although slightly better, I still felt so out of control. I started praying for control and asking Nannette and Stephen to pray out loud. The pain didn’t go away, but the peace was there. Grace, our birth assistant, came in sometime during this time and was a rockstar. There’s a reason she’s such a fabulous doula. She got right in my ear and just talked me through it.

And then all of a sudden, I HAD to push. I’ve never ever felt a sensation quite like that. I remember looking at the clock and thinking “It’s only 9pm! It’s only been 5.5 hours There’s no way it’s time for me to push!” and telling Nannette that it was too soon. And that I couldn’t do it. She told me, “but you already are! You are already past the point!” I reached down and felt the baby’s head RIGHT there. Sack still intact. I tried to break it thinking that it would help things be over sooner. No dice. It was strong! But feeling the baby’s hair beneath that strong sac. I will never ever forget that. Nannette moved away to do something and Stephen got behind me to rub my back and then my water broke in the water. Stephen sounding a bit stunned told me, “Um, I think that was your water.”

And then the head was out. We rushed to get out of the pool as it wasn’t done filling (try getting out of a tub with a head between your legs) and I put my hands on the side of the bed and out came the baby. I pulled baby up to me. And then looked to find a penis. Except there was no penis. Holy moly, we have a third girl! She was so slippery and slimy and yet so delicious and amazing and beautiful. I was in so much shock that I had actually done it. She latched on right away and we just laid skin to skin and I stared at this amazing amazing new baby. I couldn’t believe how much I loved her. I couldn’t believe that I had done it. That my body DOES labor. That it DOES birth. This amazing new BIG baby. Grace weighed her and as I saw her strain to pull her into the air in the scale, I knew she was big. And then this: “Ten pounds, fourteen ounces.” My first labor, about 5.5 hours long, and out came an almost eleven pound baby girl: Charlotte Elise.

I did end up transferring to the hospital to be treated for blood loss and a tear caused by Charlotte’s hand being by her head when she came out, a decision that I do not regret one bit. We were home in less than twenty four hours and then Stephen kept me in bed for over a week while he cooked and cleaned and took care of our older two girls. The recovery was an absolute breeze compared to the surgeries with the girls.

It’s weird to me that so much of my labor felt like a blur. I don’t remember how badly it hurt but I do remember Nannette reading a Bible verse out loud to me from the cards I had on the dresser. I don’t remember how much I wanted it to be over, but I do remember Grace telling me “You wouldn’t let your girls say I can’t, so I’m not going to let you say it!” after I kept saying over and over again “I can’t do this.” I cannot thank Nannette enough for giving me a chance when no one else would. I gained an amazing friend in her through my pregnancy and birth. And in her words, “a part of me that I didn’t even know was broken became unbroken when I did this.”

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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: Winfield

By Two Rivers Childbirth
December 9, 2014
Birth Stories Project

Waiting for Winfield

As told by Lauren:

In mid December 2013, much to our surprise, we found out we were pregnant with babe #2. We had no clue of the conception date so had a dating ultrasound done a few weeks later which suggested we were about 11 weeks along with a due date of July 31, 2014. Our 20 week anatomy scan had a due date of August 1, 2014, so we felt fairly comfortable that these dates were potentially accurate within the 5 week window that an estimated due date gives you (37-42 weeks).

I have to admit this pregnancy wasn’t easy. I was in pain every day. I had intense sciatic pain on my right side early on in the pregnancy. I saw a chiropractor with no relief. In February it switched to the left side, and I had this pain daily. It was significant, and became more so in late April/early May. I would almost say debilitating pain. I cried every morning in the shower and had a routine of hot shower, cold compress, kneel on the birth ball for 20 minutes before I could even function. With trying to catch a train at 5:50am, adding in this 30-40 minute routine was draining, so was the pain. On non-work days, I couldn’t pick my toddler up in the mornings until after the ice part of the routine, which she would assist with. My personal practice of conscious dance and movement was something I couldn’t do with ease. My love of babywearing my toddler strangely provided just the right amount of pressure to make me able to wear her, but this too wasn’t easy. It was a very very difficult time, there were lots of tears and fear, specifically fear about what this might mean for my labor. I cried at work daily too. I started looking for relief through a variety of modalities – chiropractor, acupuncture, cranial sacral, massage, other body work that was stretching/pressure points, essential oils, and emotional processing.

The commute to work was taking its toll on my ability to function as well. I reached a point when I couldn’t actually lean back in the seat at all because of the pain. With being 7 months pregnant and unable to sit comfortably for the hour commute, this was a problem. I was a mess. Fortunately my work provided a medical telework option for me, which allowed me to work from home almost exclusively until I went on maternity leave. This allowed me to schedule my pain management appointments with more flexibility and while the pain didn’t go away during this time, taking out the strain of the commute did help. But standing and/or sitting to work 8 hours a day was still very uncomfortable. Walking and movement seemed to help the most at times, and so I decided to go on maternity leave a few weeks early.

By our ultrasound calculations, I was 36 weeks pregnant when I went on maternity leave. I had 4 weeks of being off before Emily arrived and knew I wanted time to prepare for this birth in the same way. Aaron was traveling for two weeks and so I took the opportunity to have some friends and family come and help me clean/organize and nest a bit while he was away. The lazy days of naps and toddler playing provided the relief my body needed and the change in babe’s position helped too, such that in my 8th month, the sciatic pain was no longer debilitating, there were no more tears or even the routine to function. I actually was ENJOYING this pregnancy and was so so thrilled to feel different about it.

Several folks who seemed to have an intuitive vibe about them sensed that this baby was going to come early, either before or right at 40 weeks. Emily was born at 41 weeks 6 days, so to have a few people sense he might come early was interesting. My sense was that he was going to come super fast and this scared me. Emily was a 40+ hour labor, so thinking that a baby could come in less than 3 hours seemed super crazy to me, but every single birth story I heard was about these crazy fast births. Some of which the midwife arrived after the baby. I realized I needed to let go of my fear around a fast birth and embrace it. I share all this to say that I was preparing for a fast labor that would occur prior to 40 weeks.

Aaron got back from his trip while I was 38.5 weeks pregnant. The whole birth team was ready for our call. Babe was low low low in the pelvis, and I was waking up to a strong beat of a song every day. We were all ready. I had some major, what I like to call energetic contractions, where I would feel all of this energy come over me that I was really hard to handle, it would make me jittery and restless. We were ready… Every day I was prepared for labor to start at any minute.

Weeks 39 and 40 – things felt very close to starting.

Weeks 41 and 42 – things felt far away.

We are talking over five weeks of thinking today is the day! We were waiting on Winfield, some days more patiently than others for sure. There were lots of tears, loads of walks at all hours, tons of dances. Two full moons!!! I came to the conclusion I just must gestate a long time.

Week 43 Braxton Hicks contractions started each evening and people who knew about our initial estimated due date of 7/31 – well they were getting a bit nervous for us. I definitely had to let go of some fear as the pregnancy continued. I knew the statistics on still birth after 42 weeks gestation (still low risk but it increases with gestation time) and I was fearful, but I also trusted body wisdom more than fear. My midwife made me voice my fears out loud instead of holding them in, which was powerful. However, the waiting was honestly pushing my limits of trusting, which admitting is both honest and humbling. We got a late stage ultrasound just to check the placenta and fluid and make sure everything was okay, which it was. While I hated to admit it, I needed the reassurance and knowing that all was well gave me the confidence to continue waiting on Winfield. Each day was a battle between trust and fear. Trust won and I felt confident and sure in our decisions on waiting.

We did develop a plan with our midwife on possible interventions to consider. We were now seeing her twice a week to check the heartbeat and heartbeat accelerations (which checks in on how the placenta is doing). I saw her Tuesday morning and we discussed that if Winfield hadn’t come by Thursday, we would do a cervical check and possible sweeping of the membranes. If he hadn’t come by the weekend, we would then consider castor oil. That afternoon I scheduled an acupuncture appointment as well.

The acupuncture appointment was set for 4:45pm. I saw our midwife at noon. I got home and was napping with Emily and around 2:30pm very mild contractions began. This continued for the better part of an hour before I texted Aaron and told him what was happening. I didn’t want to jinx it. I little bit later I called and cancelled the acupuncture appointment – it wasn’t needed. This baby made it clear he was not interested in any interventions. I told Aaron to get the birth pool ready and I alerted our birth team. Our doula, Shawna, was at another birth, and our midwife assistant, Amy, was out of town. The back-up for both of them, Andrea was available (and I had wanted her at the birth even if both Shawna and Amy were in town) so all was well. Our midwife, Nannette, was also available as was our birth photographer, Lindsey, and everyone was excited! Finally!!!

I labored alone to Winfield’s playlist into the late afternoon and early evening. It had some serious strong beats to keep me moving and grooving. Some friends stopped by and chatted with Aaron as he was getting the pool set up. The contractions were still mild but regular, fluctuating between 4 and 7 minutes apart. I was able to breath through them and still hadn’t had any bloody show at all. Earlier Andrea had texted to let me know she was home and just hanging out and to let her know when to come. I didn’t want her to come too early, but I knew I would appreciate the support and her company, so I told her that and she came over around 7:30 or so. Lindsey had a birth education class that evening that was over at 9pm and I told her to go ahead and teach it, as it seemed she would have time to come after. Nannette was able to do dinner and bedtime with her family before heading over as well. The contractions were getting longer and a bit closer, but they were manageable.

Andrea asked if I wanted to labor in the pool and I did, so I got in there and it was divine. I so wish I had labored in water with Emily’s birth. The contractions were still regular and I loved being in the water. Emily got in the pool with me and would pour water on my back during contractions – she is an amazing child and I love the fact that she was so much a part of the birth process of her brother.

The toilet was my safe place. It was where I would go during labor when the contractions would slow way down. At some point during one of my breaks to rest, I was sitting on the toilet and Andrea was stroking my hair or back or something that felt lovely and Winfield came to me. He was an older child with blondish curls standing before me. I had read not too many days earlier that sometimes during labor, the mama would have visions and/or visits of the child coming forth and it was amazing to see him and know he was on his way. I was in such a deep place, a deep trance of breath and body and spirit. It was truly amazing.

Even with everything going on, Emily got to sleep and slept through the night with grandma.

I got back in the water and then Nannette and Lindsey both arrived, sometime after 10pm I think. I had long since stopped tracking the timing of the contractions or their frequency. I was aware that I still hadn’t had any bloody show though. Around midnight or after or sometime Shawna arrived. It was so great to see her and have her be a part of the birth journey. I was thankful the timing worked that she could join us.

As I got out of the pool to labor elsewhere, there was suddenly a lot of bloody show. I was very excited because I knew this meant things were happening and moving and shifting. I labored on the back porch some and then was encouraged to do the stairs, twice, so up and down and up and down I went. I had told myself that I was going to do whatever my doulas suggested because doulas are awesome and know their stuff. I didn’t even complain, that I remember :)

I labored on the toilet some more, in bed some to get some rest in between contractions, and also back in the pool. I’m not certain of the time, but at some point Nannette asked if she could check the position of Winfield’s head. I was aware that my labor was slow and peaceful. The contractions were not gaining in speed or frequency it seemed, although they remained regular and intense. I utilized my hypnobirthing breathing as well as some low tones and was able to go deep inside with each contraction. I agreed to a cervical check at this point so up the stairs we went. I was dilated to an 8 and Winfield’s head was slightly off center, so Nannette asked Shawna and Andrea to to the side lying release with me, 3 contractions on one side, then for me to get on all fours and then 3 contractions on the other side. We did this for what seemed like hours. I slept in between contractions. Aaron napped on the porch while we had a lovely slumber party upstairs.

As dawn came, she checked his position again. I was fully dilated and he was in good position. At this point my contractions were still not gaining in frequency or length. Aaron and I had some time upstairs where I napped between contractions and Nannette was able to see her kiddos and go for a walk with them and Lindsey was able to go home and see her oldest off to his first day of school. As I woke up with Aaron, I wanted to do the stairs again and he let me know where everyone was. We headed back downstairs and into the water again (because laboring in water is awesome). Nannette and Lindsey both got back soon after. I was in transition, shaking from the sacred tremors. This transition was quite long, about 3 hours. The contractions remained far apart and intense, but things didn’t seems to speeding up like I had happen with Emily or had read about in so many other births. During the time the option of having my waters broken was discussed. I was losing steam and hadn’t eaten anything in a while, mostly because every time I ate something I then had to poop and pooping while in labor isn’t much fun. So I just stopped eating much food because I was annoyed at the pooping. Part of me thought that having my waters broken might not be a bad thing, it would more than likely speed things along. However, when I went inside and sought an answer, I knew that this was Winfield’s journey and I didn’t want to take an experience away from him. It wasn’t what he wanted.

In between contractions Lindsey asked if there was anything I was afraid of, that might be stalling labor. I had an image come up from Emily’s birth, holding on to Aaron for dear life as I was completely overwhelmed from the contractions and the feeling of needing to throw up but not wanting to throw up and just utter and complete chaos without being grounded. This labor was so different and this transition was so different and yet I was afraid that I was headed to that place again and I was scared. We talked about this and about that if I felt the urge to throw up to allow my body to go with that urge, to even move as if I were going to throw up and that this would help.

Aaron and I talked about the breaking the waters option and I shared where I was, part of me wanted it because I was tired but I knew that I needed to continue to trust the body wisdom and I knew it wasn’t what Winfield wanted. I decided to give it an hour and reevaluate. I agreed to eat something, took a whiff of peppermint oil and Aaron and I headed upstairs to rest some more. I was lying down with him and the very next contraction there was a pop and water. We all shouted “Water, Water!” It was all very exciting. The next contraction was intense and I felt the urge to push, baby was bearing down and on his way. I also felt the urge to vomit, so I went with that body urge and sure enough, vomit! A very talented Lindsey caught the vomit in a drinking glass as she was taking pictures. No joke – she is amazing!

Throughout the labor Shawna had been saying “Lauren, isn’t birth beautiful, isn’t this process amazing.” I was always like yes, sure, yes. After my water breaking and vomit and who knows what else, I looked at Shawna and said, “Shawna, isn’t birth beautiful?” We all were cracking up just as Winfield was on his way. 30 minutes and 6 pushes later, he was earthside. Feeling the urge to push was remarkable. Feeling his head was remarkable. Having the opportunity to look at him face to face before bringing him to my chest was remarkable. The entire labor was so lovely and peaceful and beautiful. My contractions never were on top of each other, they came in slow and easy intervals that allowed me to go deep with each one and not be overwhelmed with them. For that, I am incredibly thankful.

As Winfield entered he took in a huge gulp of mucous into his airway, so he had to be suctioned quite a bit to get everything out of his lungs. He was also a meconium baby – both of my kids entered the world covered in meconium. While the team was working on getting Winfield’s airway clear, I apparently hemorrhaged. So there was a bit of concern and attention then directed at me. I was given a shot of pitocin and proceeded to push the placenta out. Upon examining the placenta a huge chunk of it had decided to stay inside the uterus, so we were told what to look for related to possible infection but we were also hopeful the body would be able to get the rest of the placenta out over the next few days, without a trip to the hospital. (Fortunately, it did come out on its own, thank goodness.)

Winfield latched right away, eyes open checking us out and enjoying mama’s boob.

Emily met her new brother with wide eyes and wonder and wanted the boob too. So my journey with tandem nursing began right away.

So while I was expecting a short intense birth prior to 40 weeks, Winfield was born after 22.5 hours of a peaceful labor at 43 weeks and 6 days. Trusting the body wisdom.

I’m sure I’ve left out something good, beautiful, important or got some of the details in the wrong order or mixed up. What I do know is that Winfield’s birth was amazing. It was beautiful. I learned things in Emily’s birth that I was able to use in his birth. In the places I needed healing, I was healed. Aaron, my love, was the best birth partner, and I had the most amazing birth team ever! seriously! The team came into our sacred space with a shared sacred presence and intention and trust in birth. I felt supported and loved and safe. I used the tools I’ve learned throughout life the last few years – breath, dance/movement, laughter, stillness. I looked inside for answers and sought support and guidance outside from the team. It was beautiful and our boy is amazing and beautiful and the sweetest of souls. I’m again so honored that these precious and amazing souls chose me to be their mama.

For more stunning photographs of Winfield’s birth visit Lindsey Welch Photography’s blog.

(Read the birth story of Winfield’s big sister 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| Flick

By Two Rivers Childbirth
September 6, 2014
Birth Stories Project

As told by Bergen:

It had been a long, hard pregnancy. That morning I woke up on the early side. I felt awful. And cranky. About as cranky as a woman hours from 40 weeks pregnant in the throws of Early September’s desperate cling to summer’s heat. Let me tell you, that’s pretty cranky. I missed the last step on my way downstairs and flat-footed too hard on the floor. My uterus made it breathtakingly clear that this kind of careless behavior was not appreciated.

I had been enjoying prodromal labor for a few weeks, once even rushing home from an appointment in DC just in case. I had been checking my own cervix every few days so I knew I was well effaced and chilling at a 3 or 4. Everyone was concerned that the birth could move fast. Third babies, man. I texted the midwife: “My uterus is being a bitch. Wanna come over?” It was just after 8 AM. “Sure. We’ll stay for brunch.” was the reply.

Evan had hurt his back just days prior and he had an appointment with the chiropractor — a skilled doc, nice office, lotta kids, I call her Mom. As a goodwill gesture he took Pip (20 mo) with him. Belle (4.5) kept me company as I wandered around the quiet house filling the time between contractions with toast and timers. She stayed close. The midwives arrived. We chatted for a while in the kitchen. There was more toast and some tea. I kept trying to crack jokes but it mostly came out snarky. The contractions were annoying the crap out of me and I wasn’t making any sense. They were manageable and not very painful, but so very distracting.

I called Evan to come home. He didn’t make his appointment. I was glad I asked the midwives to come when I did. Not because things moved precipitously fast after that, but because I very quickly lost track of chronology. I had every intention of calling my best friend to come — and I just…forgot. I was absorbed and utterly internal.

Brunch was unceremoniously cancelled so I waddled upstairs to my tub. My glorious tub. Evan and his dad designed and built our house about a year before. I had some input on the features but my only sticking point was a deep soaking tub. None of this 9″ to the overflow nonsense. I wanted a tub deep enough that my ears would get wet. No jets, bubbles, bells or whistles, just a big water-holder and a hot water heater to match. We use it every single day. I labored there for a while. Maybe an hour. I’m not sure. I could squat deep, deep and hold on to the edge of the tub for support and push my back against the other side, anchored. The metal of the faucet felt cool and smooth on my forehead. I don’t remember anyone with me for a long time. Just me in the tub. Hot and cool.

After a while I was overly hot and needed to stretch my legs. I wandered into our bedroom. The midwives, Shanna and Zellene, my mom, and Evan were there. I went straight to the foot of the bed, which has been my sacred labor zone for all three labors, knees on the floor, chest supported by the bed. The baby sounded good. The contractions hurt — always in my back. I tend to labor in my back, anyway, but this pregnancy I suffered from sciatica and a rib that just wouldn’t stay put. A third pregnancy and a, um, robust 32lb toddler meant my back had hurt this way for months. My mom brought a crock pot full of smooth black basalt stones. She and Evan took turns rubbing the hot rocks, slick and shiny with oil, over my back and hips. It felt so good. The rhythmic and ritualistic massage was the perfect focus. I’d suck my breath in at the start of a wave, the sign for a new hot rock, and together we would ooooooooh and circle our way through. We did that for what felt like years, but was probably just a few hours.

Suddenly my attitude changed. I got…bored? I was tired of working so hard. I was restless, annoyed, the rocks were irritating me. Everyone was irritating me. I felt stuck. I got up and tried a few different positions. Standing? No. Hands on bed? Nope. Leaning on Evan? No. Laying down? Oh, dear God, no. This sucks. I wanted a nap and to be left alone. Finally I settled for a deep lunge back at the foot of the bed. Deep, deeper lunge and then a little tiny pop, maybe felt, maybe imagined. A crossing of a threshold. “I can feel the baby in the birth canal.” I announced and I hoped I was right. I felt stupid, saying that. Birth canal. I waited for someone to correct me; “Let’s just make sure. No, it isn’t time yet.” But it never came. I was the authority here.

I wanted to want to push. That’s the best way I could describe it. I wanted to push this baby out. I tried. But it was like my muscles couldn’t remember what to do, like they couldn’t find traction. Ok. It isn’t time yet. Just be patient. More lunging, one knee up high, then the other. I could feel the pressure moving lower. I kept trying to try to push with every contraction. Nada. Finally I broke down and asked Shanna to check me. Like a good midwife she said only encouraging vagueness, lest her answer influence me one way or another. But, alas, the influence is in the observation and I thought for sure I had made it all up. I was still dialiating. The baby hadn’t moved down. It was all in my head. Shanna would have told me otherwise. Screw this.

I wandered out of the bedroom and figured I’d go pee while I was up. Some angelic soul (probably Zellene) had refilled the tub with fresh water. Steam curled from the surface. It looked scrumptious. I hadn’t planned a water birth. With Pippi’s labor the thought had been unappealing. I assumed I was solidly a land birther and if the baby was still high I might as well get back in for a while. I resumed my deep squat sandwiched between the walls of the tub when suddenly the whole house shook. I looked at Evan. “What was THAT?” “Your water just broke. I could feel it through the tub!” Immediately there was the baby. I panicked. “Shanna, the baby’s coming!” Everyone filled into the bathroom. “The baby’s coming!” I repeated, trying to convey my panic. “Now.” “That’s good.” Someone reassured. Didn’t they understand that there was a baby coming out, NOW?! With the girls I worked so hard to push them out. I didn’t have the self control to sink into the Ring of Fire and let them ease out; I was brute force and impatience. Now, I was simply so startled that all I could think of was keeping the baby in. I wasn’t ready. I even reached down as if to block the exit.

He was born nonetheless, into the water only a handful of eternal minutes after my water broke. I never did push. Felix, though here names don’t come until later, was born healthy and whole at home in the water at 3:28 PM. A boy — well that was something new. I scooped him up from between my legs with only a little untangling. We sat in the water. We nursed a bit. We said “Hi.” Then it was the long walk to the bed for the placenta. We didn’t make it. The midwives caught most of it, but I’m afraid that pile of books will never, ever be the same again.

Everything was going well. The girls came home from Grandma’s and Belle cut the cord. We admired the placenta.

And now we are five.

Two hours after birth I started to bleed again. More and more. A trip to the bathroom resulted in a scene typical of a sitcom, the kind I always assumed was hyperbole, where everything turned gray and wavy and sounds became very distant, though only for a moment. The bleeding wouldn’t stop despite our collective bag of tricks, so we called it in.

The ambulance arrived just in time to worry my friends and neighbors. My sister herded the girls upstairs to the attic to play and they were never the wiser. The EMTs carried me down strapped into their stretcher-chair. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have made it down gracefully on my own, but it was still mortifying. Said a cordial Hello from my lofty position to my neighbor who had come by with congratulations (so awkward).

They sat the chair in front of the ambulance and waited. “Think you could climb into the ambulance?” “Sure.” I said. They waited. “But you’ll have to unstrap me first…” “Oh yeah. Sorry. Just a test!” “Did I pass? Can I go back upstairs to bed?” At least my snark remained unaffected. I didn’t want to go to the hospital, I didn’t feel that bad, but I was still bleeding. It was the responsible thing to do, though — go to the hospital before we tipped the scales from concerning to troublesome.

We spent a lot of time in triage, waiting. We hammed it up with the nurses. We waited. The bleeding slowed. When we finally went upstairs they hung a bag of Pit. It sucked, but it worked. Or, more likely, given just how very, very long we waited in triage, and that I had almost stopped bleeding before we were sent upstairs — the extra time gave my body a chance to catch up. I checked out physically and my blood work came back surprisingly reassuring. By 10 PM I was released and we headed for home. The trip to the hospital was a good decision, even if it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my evening. My gratitude to my midwives for making sure I was well cared for at all stages.

After pains tend to be worse with each baby, so by number three I had it coming, I knew it. But these were killer. I wasn’t bleeding much any more. My uterus was a nice hard grapefruit. No fever. But the cramps would knock me down and never really went away. On day three my mom came back to give Evan the adjustment he had missed. I got one, too, and suddenly, without a baby in the way, something in my back released that had been locked up for a very long time. I think a nerve, pinched for much of the third trimester, kept me from being able to push. We never did pin point the cause of the hemorrhage, though my diet-controlled anemic tendency was the most likely culprit.

We’re so happy to have you, little Flick. You make our family so joyful!

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