About 6 months into trying to get pregnant, I decided that I wanted to have an "out-of-hospital" birth at a birthing center, or possibly a home birth. Eric wasn't sold on the idea, but luckily over the next year and a half of our journey to get pregnant, he came around to the idea. A few days after getting a positive pregnancy test I went to see my OB/gyn, they confirmed the pregnancy with blood tests, and I few days later I called the two local midwives we have to set up consultations.
The day of my first consult I was ridiculously excited. I had dreamed of this for a year and a half. I had several friends and acquaintances that had used these midwives and loved them and I just knew I would too! That unfortunately was not the case. To make a long story short, I was told by the midwife that I met with that my BMI was too high to give birth naturally. She told me that I could "try" for a natural birth but that more than likely I would end up at least needing pitocin to help progress my labor since my body wouldn't be able to make enough due to my high BMI. She then went on to say that almost every client she's taken with a BMI as high as mine NEEDED a c-section because their bodies just couldn't give birth. I left that consult defeated. I didn't speak for 30 mins after, and when I finally did speak, I started crying. For the past 2 years I had believed that my body was broken, and when I was finally starting to have a little confidence in it, I was told by a "professional" that it in fact, probably was. A week later I nervously went to the other consult that we had scheduled. I honestly thought I'd be told the same thing as before, and any hope of an out-of-hospital birth would be gone. However, that was not the case, and to make another long story short, both Eric and I LOVED this midwife. We ended the consult with a hug and I told her I'd let her know our decision soon, though I already knew what my decision was as I walked out of the birth center. When we got in the truck, Eric looked at me and asked "we just found our midwife, didn't we?". We had.
Thanks in large part to great prenatal care, I had a healthy and wonderful pregnancy.Yes, I had normal worries but for the most part I really enjoyed being pregnant. I spent a lot of time day dreaming about the birth of our baby girl. I also had the honor of attending 6 home/birth center births during my pregnancy, each of them inspiring and picturesque (or maybe it's just the photographer in me that sees them as picturesque). I imagined laboring in the birth pool with soft music playing in the background, incense burning, and candles flickering. I imagined breathing through contractions with ease on my birth ball while my doula rubbed my back and "slow dancing" with my head buried in Eric's chest during intense ones. (yes, that's a real thing people do). I pictured Eric pulling our baby out of the water and placing her on my chest, then after a few minutes I would move to the bed and nurse her with ease.Several times Becca, my midwife, asked me about any fears or concerns I had. She urged me to open up and talk about anything that was worrying me, so I didn't bring it into the birth with me. We discussed a few things, but for the most part I brushed her off, I had seen birth nearly a dozen times. I had this.
A few days before my due date, I started having a lot of anxiety. I started thinking about what I was told by the first midwife. What if she was right? What if this beautiful home birth that I've been planning for and imagining didn't happen because my body wasn't made for it? What if my body is broken? Becca assured me that my body had conceived and grown a healthy baby and that it was more than capable of giving birth. I wasn't buying it.
The next morning I woke up about 6am feeling pretty good and not having contractions. Becca had warned me that if we chose to try to sedate labor there was a chance that it could take several days, or even a week to start back up, which was okay with me. I started going about my day, and with in a few minutes contractions started up full force. The pain seemed to start in my back and radiate down my hips into my thighs. I tried a few different positions on the bed before I had to have some sort of relief. I got in the shower and let the hot water run down my back and legs. This seemed to help through most of the contraction, but at the peak I felt like my hips and legs were on fire. I had woke Eric up by this point and he was timing my contractions. They were about every 2-3 minutes apart but I couldn't seem to compose myself in the time between them. I just kept hoping for a longer break and when another contraction would start to build, I would try my hardest to stop it from coming so I could have some more time to catch my breath and relax. By the way, you can't stop a contraction ;) After about 30 mins I yelled for Eric to call Becca. I figured surely with contractions this close together, this baby is going to go be here soon. While still in the shower I heard Eric on the phone telling her "yeah, that's her you hear", so I guess that this point I was pretty loud. Between contractions I decided to get out of the shower. It didn't seem to be helping much anymore and I didn't want to use up all the hot water before filling the birth pool. I moved to the bed, and got fairly comfortable on my hands and knees. I don't remember much else until my birth team started showing up. First was Jessica (my friend and photographer), who I didn't even realize had been called. She came in and checked on me and brought me something to eat. A few bites in,I had another contraction. It was very strong, with all the pain in my back and legs but was more manageable in this position than they had been while I was in the shower. After that contraction I turned to see Becca squatting down at the end of the bed . Without me saying a word to her, she looked me in the eye as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and said "I know". I was able to relax some after that. My birth team was there and I felt safe and loved.
The next several hours are a blur, honestly. The contractions had slowed down a little bit but were still very intense.I labored in the bed, I labored in the bathroom, I labored in the birth pool. I said "Fuck", A LOT(just being honest), and Becca and I had a much needed "get your shit together, forget what you've been told, you can and are doing this and you're about to meet you baby" talk (which sounds harsh, but I was exactly what I needed to hear).Though water in the birth pool felt nice, the pool was hard to labor in. I couldn't find a position where I felt comfortable and grounded. Rachel suggested some positions and tried to help me into somewhat of a squatting position with her rebozo, but my legs burned too much to do that for long. I cried out for Becca at one point, hoping that she could magically get the baby out of me. Which, of course, she couldn't. My contractions slowed even more, so I got out of the pool and moved to the room, and then to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and my birth team piled in. I had never noticed how small our bathroom was until that very moment. It was crowded, I was sweating, and felt a little nauseated. I'm not sure if I said I wanted everyone out, but I did, and luckily Becca cleared everyone except herself and Eric out. She checked on me and listed to Lennon's heart rate and then left for a bit. It was just me and Eric for while. During contractions I would lean on to him, between contractions I would rest on the toilet. Becca then suggested we go to Lennon's nursery for a few contractions. I made the short walk down the hall and a contraction hit as soon as I got into her room. Another came shortly after and grabbed on to Eric as the wave hit. It was then I realized that the baby we had been waiting for and preparing for was soon going to be here. The clothes hanging in the closet and the diapers on the changing table were for a little body that I was about to give birth to, the blankets folded careful in a basket would soon swaddle a real baby. (I have a sneaking suspicion that's exactly why she had us go into the nursery)
When we made it back to the bathroom, Becca told me to reach down to see if I could feel my baby. I had done this a few times before with no luck. I told her I wouldn't be able to but she encouraged me to try anyway. I reached down not expecting to feel anything, but I did. I could feel a hard little head, I could feel a little bit of hair, I could feel my baby. She was real and right there, with not much further to go before she out and and in my arms. As the next contraction came I left my hand on the top of her tiny head and pushed. I could feel her move down with each push, getting closer to being born. Becca then asked me if I wanted to go back to the birth pool or bed. I didn't. I had figured out how to effectively push to get my baby out, and I did not want to move. A few minutes later she asked me again, I still didn't. I was focused and wanted my baby out , I didn't care that she was going to be born in our pink bathroom with the horrible wallpaper that I SWORE that I would not give birth in, I just wanted her out! With my hand still on the top of her head, I continued to push her down. As her head began to come out I stood up (after, for some reason, asking Becca's permission and her responding "yes, please do") After another push or two her head was born. Less than a minute later and with a few more pushes I heard the words that I had been longing to hear for nearly 3 years, words that I dreamed about hearing when I would imagine our baby's birth. Her birth my not have been filled with incense smoke, slow dances, and picture perfect moments. But the one moment that really mattered, the moment she entered the world, was perfect.
At 5:25 I heard Becca say "Eric, reach down and catch your baby"and her body slipped out of mine into my husband's hands. At 5:25 my husband handed me my perfect 7lb 8oz baby. At 5:25 the sunlight shone through the window perfectly on to her face and the first words out of my mouth were "Oh my god, she has red hair".
Shortly after Eric placed her in my arms and I admired her beautiful face and red hair, I realized that she was not crying and her lips her blue. The minutes that followed were intense as she struggled to take her first breath. I tried to stay calm, I knew she was in good hands, she had a heartbeat, and her cord was still pulsing so she was still getting oxygen. What seemed like an hour was really about 5 minutes. In that time I watched as our midwife suctioned her and tried a few different things to get her to breath, finally mouth to mouth did the trick. Becca handed her back to me, she was still pretty limp as a carried her to our room. For the next hour or so I kept her skin to skin as she was watched very closely, and little by little her breathing, color, and tone improved. Once it was clear that she was stable, I got up and showered while Eric briefly brought her out into the living room to introduce her to our families. Over the next few hours family members came in to see Lennon, the midwives examined, measured, and weighed her, and I ate. We were given postpartum and newborn care instructions, as well as instructions to call with any concerns, & the midwives helped us settle in for the night. We tried several times to get her to nurse with no luck, finally around 10:30 pm, about 5 hours after birth, she nursed for the first time. By 11:30 everyone was gone, it was over, she was here, and we were a family of 3.
On October 14, 2013 at 5:25 pm, my baby was born. At 5:25 we became parents, something both of us had been told may never happen. At 5:25, my body birthed my baby that it had conceived naturally, and grown without issue. At 5:25, I discovered that my body is not broken or defective. Lennon's birth was not the birth I imagined, but I was the birth I needed. It was an intense labor and a triumphant birth. It showed me that I am strong and capable of just about anything. It taught me to trust my body & it healed the wounds left by infertility. When asked if I would do it again, my answer is simply "All of it, in a heartbeat.". I'd relive every day of our infertility journey, every failed cycle and every tear shed. I'd redo the entire 40 weeks and 5 days of pregnancy and all 37 hours of labor. I'd redo all of it for that one minute when my baby girl entered the world and I became her mom, because the way I felt and what I accomplished in that that one single minute has influenced every single minute since.
