As I contemplate this stage of my labour, I am again struck by the difference
between my experience and the mainstream medical births I saw portrayed in
movies and on television shows like "A Baby Story". It took some time to figure
out exactly how to push, but I absolutely loved this stage of labour after I got
the hang of things. For the first little while R. used her hand to show me how
and where to focus my pushing efforts; I found it extremely helpful to have
something concrete to push against. However, aside from this gentle aid, nobody
told me how to push, when to push, or for how long. Nobody counted in my ear,
instructed me when to stop and start, or told me to hold my breath. I was given
help, assistance and encouragement when I need it. I was reminded to breath
during my contractions, but the only other advice I was given was to listen to
my body. Inside I already instinctively knew exactly what I needed to do. I have
never felt more in tune with myself, more aware of my body's signals. When the
urge hit, I would push as long and hard as felt right at the time. Nobody was
"delivering" my baby, she was simply and gently being born. I felt as if Sam,
the baby and I were working in unison, already a team, already a family. The
baby's powerful life force rushed through me with each contraction, and it was
stronger than anything I had ever experienced. Now was the time to let go of all
preconceived ideas and notions and give myself up to the awe and wonder of the
event. This stage was at once incredibly empowering and completely humbling. My
role in this event was so vitally important, yet in the grand scheme of things,
so completely minor.
Sam was right there with me the entire time; he was such a wonderful support and
gave me strength when I needed it most. The midwives gave me the encouragement I
needed to trust in myself and in my ability to deliver my baby. My body worked
beautifully in conjunction with the baby, doing the hard work of labour just as
nature had intended. The room was filled with warmth, love, and an air of quiet
anticipation. Our baby, so long awaited, would soon be here with us. I could
hardly believe I would soon be able to hold the baby that had consumed my
thoughts and dreams for so many months. We already knew each other so
intimately, yet we had never really met. We talked and laughed; it felt
wonderful to be actively working toward bringing my baby into the world
surrounded by an atmosphere of total love and trust in the process of
childbirth.
At one point, as P. was checking to see how far the baby had descended during
the latest contraction, I suddenly wondered if I would also be able to feel her
head. I reached down and to my surprise and amazement I was able to touch my
darling baby for the first time. I felt the top of her skull, and it’s soft
downy coating of hair. It is yet another part of this amazing experience I
cannot find the words to explain. After carrying this little person within me
for nine whole months and I was finally touch her before she was born. What an
incredible and awesome gift. A huge wave of love passed through my body, it was
almost electrifying. I invited Sam over to feel the baby as well, as he touched
her head he looked up in amazement and said, "That's our baby"! I will never
forget the look of wonder and awe that crossed his face at that moment. As
beautiful as the moment was, I started to feel the beginnings of another
contraction and was anxious to get back down to business. I made everyone laugh
by looking at Sam and saying, "Now don't push it back in!" Once I felt my sweet
baby's head I felt much more focused and connected and pushed with renewed
strength.
During this stage of labour I was expending a huge amount of energy, and as each
contraction subsided I would take well-deserved rest. I would take a drink of
water or a bite to eat and then just drift off in my own little world to
conserve strength. I felt as if I was retreating into the oldest and most
instinctive part of my brain; the part that had been helping women give birth
for thousands and thousands of years. I was at once aware that the instinctive
memories that would guide me to my baby were within me, indeed are within all
women, if we only have the strength to discover them. Logic had no place now,
only feelings and instincts were necessary to finish what had begun nine long
months ago. After all my reading and research, questioning the status quo, and
playing an active roll in every part of my pregnancy, it was a relief to
completely surrender to the sensations and let my body do what it was made to
do.
I laid my head back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes while
Sam wiped my face, neck and upper body with an ice-cold cloth. At times I think
I was just barely awake and felt as if I was floating in my own private space,
all extraneous distractions vanished like dust on the wind, until once again my
body signaled that it was time to help guide our baby into the world.
At this point I was still in the pool, leaning back against the side. P. had me
draw my knees as far back as I could between contractions, but each time the
contraction receded my legs would slowly drift together again as if pulled by
magnetic force. Time and again P. would remind me to keep my legs apart in order
to give the baby room to descend. Despite my good intentions, I continued to
close my legs between each contraction. Finally she looked at me and jokingly
asked, "Are you trying to keep this baby inside"? Of course my answer was a
resounding no, I wanted to meet my baby as soon as possible! That was the last
reminder I needed!
After I had been pushing for a little while, P. suggested I try a few
contractions in a squatting position, as being upright would help move the baby
down the birth canal faster. I was so comfortable it was hard to imagine moving,
but during my many visualizations of labour I had often envisioned labouring in
a squat, and was eager to try this position. Movement of any kind seems awkward
when you are nine months pregnant, but during labour it feels near impossible.
It must have been quite a picture, me with my huge pregnant belly, trying in
vain to swing around in the pool and get myself upright. In the end I needed
both P. and my dear husband to hold me up in order to remain squatting; I just
didn't have the balance or coordination to do it on my own. To my surprise,
pushing in this position felt very strange to me, and not nearly as natural as
lying down. I did feel as if I was really making progress, but also as if I was
using an extraordinary amount of energy to maintain the position. After a few
contractions P. had me lie down so she could check the baby's heart rate with
the Doppler. I had made a great deal of progress, but due to the rapid
compression of the head during descent she felt that the baby was not tolerating
it very well. To my immense relief suggested I return to my semi-lying position.
She continued to have me lift my body from the water between contractions to
check the heart rate; and thankfully the baby continued to do well. Each time a
contraction passed she had me sit in a more upright position and breath deeply
in order to deliver more oxygen to the baby.
Time was irrelevant to me, I had no concept of how much time had passed or what
time of day it was. It could have been minutes or hours that had passed while I
pushed, the only cue I had was that the room had slowly darkened and at one
point the lights were turned on. It was as if we were all suspended in time;
nothing was moving around me, all my energies were focused on the job at hand.
We were not operating on any kind of deadline or timetable; nobody had a
schedule to meet or other places to be. My body and the baby were the only
factors determining the pace of the birth; it felt to right and natural that it
should be this way. Occasionally during a break between contractions my
curiosity would be piqued and I would long for a finite measure of how much
longer I needed to work. I would ask P. how long she thought I had left, but as
soon as I started pushing again her answer would be erased from my mind.
As time passed I could feel the baby's head moving further and further down my
birth canal, and would occasionally reach down to feel her head and see what
progress I had made. The birth record shows that at 6pm the contractions were
coming every minute and that the baby was at +2 station, meaning her head was
now below my pelvic bones. As her head moved further down I began to feel
immense pressure against my tailbone, and soon could actually feel it moving
outward as I pushed and the baby's head moved past it. After the contraction
subsided I could feel the baby's head slip back again and my tailbone return to
its position. At this point P. held her had against my perineum and told me how
to focus my pushing down low. I began to understand how to maintain the baby's
position as I inhaled between pushes, not letting her slip back. Before this
point it had been two steps forward, one step back; now I realized that I needed
to maintain a minimum pressure in order to prevent the baby from moving back
during breaks in the pushing. It is quite hard to explain, but it felt as if
things moved faster once I made this connection.
As things continued I began to feel more and more pressure. P. periodically
asked if I was experiencing pressure or burning and if so how much. I was
excited when I started to feel burning in my perineum with each push because I
knew that meant the baby's head was close to crowning; my baby was going to be
born soon. When I told P. that I had begun to feel the burning sensation I had
so often heard described she gave a simple instruction, but one that made
complete sense. It was such a small piece of advice, but to me it made all the
difference in the world. She told me that there was a difference between burning
and burning too much, and that my body already knew the difference. For some
reason these few words of wisdom completely integrated themselves into my
subconscious and allowed me to control my pushing efforts in response to the
signals from my body. When a contraction began I would bear down with full
effort, but as the burning started I would slow down, giving small pushes and
making quiet grunting exhalations with each push. This allowed my body to
stretch gently to accommodate the baby's head as it descended. P. also had me
tell her where I felt the greatest amount of burning (top, bottom or sides).
Thus, she was she was able to apply pressure where I needed it the most,
supporting my perineum and minimizing the chances of my experiencing a tear. She
also continued to repeat the words that become like a mantra for me, "Listen To
Your Body". I felt an awesome amount of power and control, I knew I was doing
exactly what my body needed and was so close to meeting my child. Again, my awe
at the incredible design of the female body was strengthened. We have been made
so absolutely perfectly, that we are able to safely contain a baby inside us for
nine months and, with the same body, stretch to allow the baby passage into the
world. It never ceases to leave me with a feeling of respect for the wonder of
creation. I disagree with anyone who says the design of childbirth could be
improved upon, having experienced pregnancy and childbirth I simply can't
imagine anything more perfect.
The stretching and expansion of my body was so incredible now as to almost defy
description. Now I could feel her head moving down with each contraction. With
every small push, I could feel the muscles of my perineum stretch even more as
my baby approached the outside world. I felt as if we were gaining momentum and
knew that very soon my efforts would be rewarded. In between contractions I
continued to reach down and feel the baby’s head in order to gauge my progress
and to give me incentive to continue. I had to draw my legs back as far as
possible in order to give her room to descend. The sustained effort of pushing
for so long was incredibly draining, but the desire to meet my baby outweighed
the fatigue. Somehow I was able to reach within and find the energy to keep
going. The room was quiet, the water was warm, and my loving husband was by my
side. Our baby would soon be born in the most wonderful atmosphere imaginable. I
hoped, with all my heart, that her gentle, loving birth would be followed by
many, many gentle and loving years on earth.
Part VI: Welcome To The World, Baby Bella!
Finally I could feel the baby's head was partially outside of me, my body was
stretched to its limits, skin straining, as I slowly and with controlled pushes
brought my baby into the world. I was so involved that I didn't notice R. and
Sam change places so that he was at the bottom of the pool. Before I knew it
someone was announcing that our baby's head was outside of me, her father's
gentle hands touching her the whole time. I heard my dear husband exclaim with
wonder as he touched her full chubby cheeks. He tried to have me reach to feel
them as well, I gave a half hearted attempt, but was so focused on the task at
hand that I soon gave up and looked to P. for direction on when to push again. I
asked if I should continue with the slow, controlled pushes that had delivered
her head, but P. told me to push now with all my might (her actually words were
'Go for the Gusto!'). R. helped me hold my legs back as far as possible, I
tucked my chin to my chest, took a deep breath and I gave one last awesome push.
I pushed with every fiber of my being, and gave all my remaining energy to
birthing my baby. Sam sat back as P. delivered her shoulders, she was quite
tightly wedged, and you can hear P. on the video saying "Big baby! Big baby!”
With a rush that was almost anti-climactic her body slid out of mine and my
husband and midwife brought her up out of the warm water and onto my stomach. I
reached down to take her into my arms and was overcome by a wave of emotion so
powerful it left me breathless. This beautiful, perfect creature was my baby,
she had been created in love, born in love and I was determined that she be
raised and surrounded by love all her days on the earth. A wave of strong,
visceral, fierce mother-love flooded through me. I knew without a doubt that I
would lay down my life to protect this helpless little being. The journey to
this point had been so long; sometimes beautiful, others times arduous, but
always amazing. In an instant it was over. The past year flashed before my eyes
in that one moment as I held my baby for the first time. Conception. Pregnancy.
Labour. Birth….. Mother.
Sam and I were both crying tears of utter joy (Sam silently, me with complete,
utter and noisy abandon) as we gazed at our baby for the first time. She did not
immediately start to cry, but gazed intently at us with a serene and intense
look on her face, as if she had known us for years. I now understand fully why
we speak of the 'miracle of life'; there could be nothing more miraculous than
the birth of a baby. I once heard that having a baby is our one chance in life
to assist God in the creation of a miracle. That beautiful thought stayed with
me as I stared into the face that I would soon come to know better than my own.
Sam and I kissed and hugged and laughed and cried and touched our baby. How in
the world did two ordinary people like us create something so perfect? Just
moments had passed and we were already so head over heels in love. I couldn't
believe I was finally a mother. All the discomforts of pregnancy and the hard
work of labour were more than worth this moment. P. told us to talk to our baby,
but overcome with emotion all I could say was, "Hi Sweetheart, we waited a while
for you."
Someone had immediately covered her in a towel and R. checked her heart rate and
continually poured warm water from the pool over her in order to keep her warm,
while rubbing her skin to stimulate breathing. We were so overcome by emotion
that we did not immediately check to see the gender of our child, all I could
think of it that I was finally holding my precious, long awaited baby. Very soon
she gave a healthy, lusty cry, as that sound filled the room I began to cry even
harder, what a beautiful sound.
A few minutes after she was born R. instructed me to cover her bottom with the
towel. Suddenly realizing we did not yet know if we had a son or daughter I
replied, much to everyone’s amusement, "What kind of bottom is it?" I
immediately looked down and realized for the first time that I had given birth
to the beautiful little daughter of my dreams. We exclaimed, "It's a girl! It's
Isabella!" as the tears poured down our faces and we stared at our newborn
daughter, Isabella Charlotte Rose. Her middle names are in honor of my maternal
grandmother, Charlotte Rose-Brison, who means more to me than I could ever say.
I continued to gaze in awe at this incredible new person and said softly to my
brand new daughter, "Hi, beautiful girl."
It was very important to us that she remain with us in those important moments
immediately following her birth. She was not suctioned, poked or prodded but was
treated gently and with love. She was not taken from my arms for any assessments
or exams. Everything that needed to be done took place right there in the pool,
with my little Bella where she belonged, safe and warm in her mothers arms. P.
told us that she needed our touch as stimulation to keep her breathing, so we
touched her lightly, running our hands all over her body, examining each tiny
feature in detail. We stared at her, as if trying to memorize her features. I
was so surprised that she did not look like the newborns I had seen in videos;
she did not have the typical cone-head or any visible blemishes. She had full
chubby cheeks that just amazed us, full lips, long eyelashes, a soft covering of
dark brown hair, long fingers and toes (just like mom) and was perfect in every
way. At one minute after birth her Apgar score was nine (she lost one point for
colour) but at five minutes she scored a perfect 10.
After all the waiting and hard work, I could hardly believe it was over. Almost
with disbelief in my voice I said, "I had my homebirth". Perhaps on some level I
had held onto some small doubt that it could really happen. I looked up at P.,
R. and K., the three women who had become so important to us over the past nine
months, and had given us the most wonderful gift. In a voice thick with the
emotion of the moment I thanked them for everything, told them how wonderful it
was for us and that I could not imagine it any other way. I looked back down at
my peaceful baby girl and repeated softly to her, "I can't imagine it any other
way". We had been blessed beyond all expectations. The reality of holding our
daughter transcended all our dreams.
Heart and Hands : A Midwifes Guide to Pregnancy and Birth
by Elizabeth Davis
Amazon.com
Elizabeth Davis's Heart and Hands, though subtitled A
Midwife's Guide to Pregnancy and Birth, is not just for
midwives. It's an excellent and thorough resource for
parents-to-be who are thinking about delivering their child with a
midwife, or who are concerned about the medical establishment's
over-control of birth. (Two previous editions sold more than
100,000 copies and there are nowhere near 100,000 midwives or
midwifery students to buy this book, proving that parents-to-be
have looked to... read
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Revised edition (December 1997)
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More Pregnancy
I laid my head back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes while
Sam wiped my face, neck and upper body with an ice-cold cloth. At times I think
I was just barely awake and felt as if I was floating in my own private space,
all extraneous distractions vanished like dust on the wind, until once again my
body signaled that it was time to help guide our baby into the world.
