My Two Births-Part II
So I had my first baby, right? She’s awesome, she’s wild. She’s like what everyone feels on the inside but has learned to suppress, but she’s doing it on the outside. She just let’s it all hang out. I love it, and I’m completely exhausted by it.
At this point my obsession with birth had reached a breaking point, and once I learned what a doula was, my husband was like “girl, just go do it already. We all know it’s the thing you were made to do.” So I started.
And then like 8 seconds after I finished my training, I found myself pregnant again. This time I was experiencing pregnancy from a VERY informed place. My life transformed by passion for birth, support, advocacy, etc, etc, I knew exactly what I wanted from this birth. I wanted a do over. I wanted that cozy postpartum in a big bed, after an unmedicated birth. Not just any bed, MY bed. I was ready to try for a homebirth. My initial fears in the first pregnancy of dripping amniotic fluid on the hardwoods were replaced by a strong desire to have complete control of my environment.
Of course with any previous birth complications, it’s very prudent to get a variety of opinions on the safety of a homebirth. I sought the opinion of the doctor who repaired my complex tear from my first birth. She wasn’t an OB, but she worked with many who helped her evaluate my case. After her assessment where she positively marveled at the skill with which she put me back together only 18 months before, she assured me that not only was a vaginal birth safe, but much safer than opting for a cesarean. And furthermore, it was much more likely to tear again if I was medicated because I’d have less control in the pushing stage. So her recommendations were to birth on my side unmedicated and NOT TO PUSH. Like, almost at all. And she fully supported my choice of a homebirth.
So homebirth it was. I knew that even if I tore again, the last time I tore, I wasn’t in life threatening danger. I lived close to a hospital and I had very competent midwives who completely supported me. And if I were to successfully deliver another whole person from me unmedicated, not having the option of an epidural was vital. I felt confident I’d take that epidural every day of the week, and twice on Sundays, if it were within reach.
The pregnancy was long and difficult. I had so many weird and unusual things pop up. Like the one time when I was on my babymoon with my husband where my body forgot how to pee, so my urine was trapped inside of me for 12+ hours till we went to the ER and they drained over 2 liters of lemonade from my bladder. Oh, and since it was the weekend, they’d just have to leave the catheter in till Monday when I could follow up with a urologist to figure out why it happened in the first place. But don’t worry, I had a handy little leg strap device, so I could “discreetly” carry my pee around with me the whole Babymoon. #hawt. On Monday the Urologist had no explanation for why it occured, but taught me how to catheterize MYSELF in case it ever happened again. I go to sleep every night thanking the Lord that was not necessary.
I had so much swelling everywhere and back pain that I had to wear not only a back brace that wrapped around my huge belly with like 8 straps, but a pelvic girdle to reduce the said-everywhere-swelling. But don’t feel too bad for me. The pelvic girdle had this sweet little rose sewn on the front, so it was stylish and sexy. Because I’d been diagnosed with The Dia-bee-tus in my previous pregnancy, they tested me for it much earlier this time around. And Ding, ding, ding. Winner again! So I was huge, swollen, bum bladder-ed, and couldn’t eat a single gram of carbs or sugar. Plus I was biggest pregnant in the heat of summer. I was so whiny. I pity the fool who was married to me that summer. I managed my very stubborn gestational diabetes with the strictest diet and exercise. I struggled so hard to keep my fasting numbers low, but through the close care of my maternal fetal medicine providers, I was able to stay off all medications and safely monitor my sugars. Again, I was fueled to manage without medication because if I needed even one dose of meds for the GD, I’d be risked out of a home birth. And remember, my whole plan: was homebirth, no epidural, no tear, big cozy bed.
A few weeks before delivery my brother was getting married to this sweet southern girl. When her family came to town for the wedding, word had spread that I was going to give birth soon, and at home. They approached me curiously, one at a time. Imagine in their sweetest southern drawls saying, “now, I heard you’re planning on giving birth to that baby, at HOME? Is that right? Now how exactly does that work?” I could just hear that line from the Jim Gaffigan bit where he’s telling his friends that his wife was going to deliver their baby at home, and their friends respond with, “oh we were going to do that, but we wanted our baby to live.”
About 5 weeks from my due date I began to have what is called prodromal labor. It’s this super fun thing where it feels exactly like true labor, except it doesn’t do anything except gaslight you for weeks or months. Every night I was positively convinced that I was in labor. I KNEW what labor felt like. I wasn’t some character in a TV show rushing into the hospital only to be told it was Braxton Hicks. But alas, true labor never came. I was so convinced that labor would never actually come, that when it did finally start, I continued the trend of self-gaslighting until nearly everyone around me at Trader Joe’s was panicking I’d give birth right in front of them. “I’m not in labor!” I told them, while breathing through back to back contractions. “I’ll NEVER be in labor.” Plus, I was still two weeks away from my due date.
I drove home, for sure in labor, but pretending I wasn’t. Until I got home and all of the sudden I couldn’t pretend anymore. It was happening. Fast! All my people came to me. But this time, instead of escaping to labor land, I kind of just stayed put. Like I could take little trips into the land as needed, but I didn’t really need to be there the whole time. This labor was totally different. It wasn’t happening TO me, as much as I was just riding on top of each wave as they came. I felt it, it was painful. But I wasn’t suffering, I wasn’t panicking. I was safe, supported, and excited. I could tell this was moving faster, I had started labor after lunch time, it was light, a warm summer day. I remember thinking about how I would need to call my chiropractor after this and tell him I wasn’t coming in the next day. That’s how present I stayed throughout labor.
I labored in the birth pool until my midwives (yes, there were several) noticed those signs of early pushing. “OUT! NOW!” And my husband pulled me out of the tub and brought me to the bed where I’d NOT push out my baby. They all knew the plan so well, that while I was just riding the waves, they made it all happen for me, as a good care team should do. They rolled me to my side, my leg was held up and supported, and I was instructed on exactly how to give birth without pushing. I trusted them all so much, there was no fear. The pain of the ring of fire was real. And while so intense, so much, it was all okay. I delivered her only with a couple gentle pushes, and my midwife burst into tears as she told me I hadn’t torn at all. There was so much healing for the both of us in that moment. Just because I had been the one to tear, she also went through that birth with me last time, and it was a lot for her too. Your care providers and birth support people experience the highs and lows right along with you. This goopey, screamy, beautiful creature brought everyone in that room so much healing. And she was born just before dinner time.
Shortly after birth I took a shower and got tucked into bed. It was quite literally everything I had every wanted. My friends brought me all the food I couldn’t eat while monitoring my blood sugar so closely. I breastfed this little alien easily. I slept soundly and welcomed my big girl back into our home the next morning. For me, this was exactly what I wanted, and needed. It helped heal the parts of my previous story that felt unfinished. And I was so thankful and proud. I love that I got to choose that for myself.
Within a few short weeks after her birth, I started attending births in my role as a doula. It was unreal the joy of being able to bring women the comfort, advocacy, and empowerment that I had been given. I fell in love with the feelings that courses through the room when a baby is being born. I love what it felt like to make that memory a good one for families as they went through labor. I attended all different kinds of birth, with all different kinds of providers and partners and choices made. I carry such a deep level of respect and honor for each different kind of couple and birth.
