VBAC attempt-a birth story

I wanted to post the birth story of my latest doula client.  This is from her own blog.
http://mlruiz.blogspot.com/2011/05/maxs-birth-story.html

From my perspective, I probably would have made different choices, but I feel comfortable in knowing that I was able to be her advocate once I was there and all the decisions made were her own.  The only thing I wish I had done differently was come a lot earlier.  She went into the hospital not contracting and told me she'd call me.  She had a hard time doing that, though, so I finally just went in:)  I don't know if I would have been able to change the outcome, but I could have made her more comfortable:)  I think she did such a great job and had to make some hard decisions.  I applaud her for that.

Early Labor-One Woman's Birth Story

Labor is an interesting phenomenon.  It's really hard to tell when it really starts for one thing.  Sometimes contractions come and go, sometimes they start to get more difficult and then die off.  When I worked in L&D we sent home a good 1/3 of women who came simply because their labor at that point was not changing their cervix enough to stay.  For those who are wondering what to do during this confusing time, here's a good birth story about what one lady did who was in early labor for about 2-3 days(and this was not her first baby:)).  I think it shows how many factors go into what makes labor really start.  I thought it might also provide some ideas for those who are wondering "is this really it?"


http://mamasandbabies.blogspot.com/2011/05/pipers-birth-story.html#comment-form

Happy Traumatic birth story?!:)

I'm not sure how to describe this birth story I found, but I loved it and it was written in such an easy to read manor...it makes the experience seem funny, hard, and worth, yet it could be a very traumatic experience also.   The way this author tells it, though, it doesn't see like it is...anyways  enough of me..here's the story...

Here’s the down low on my experience.

1. Water breaks. On the couch. Which reminds me…

ONE COUCH FOR SALE…CHEAP.

2. I think that heading to the Farmer’s Market for a few last minute items=a good idea.

3. Water REALLY breaks at Farmer’s Market. Which reminds me…

ONE PAIR OF NAVY BLUE TRACK PANTS FOR SALE…REALLY CHEAP.

4. Then nothing much for four or five hours and then some huge* contractions for the next four or five hours.

A note on contractions: Holy $#(@! What the &*@#?? Seriously? &*(#^$(@#Q@#@(%!!@&$)(#%. Ok. I’m ok.

5. Enter midwife.

M: Your cervix is at a “1″.

K: Ha ha. You mean like it’s Number One?

M: No. Like 1 cm. As in, you still have 9 more to go.

K: (See note on contractions.)

6. Three hours later, I’m ready to go. That’s right. One to Ten in three hours.  I’m like, in the 99th percentile for cervix opening.

7. Push. Push. Push. (See note on contractions.)

8. Done, awesome. Lovely, perfect, most handsome boy Finn Vincent slides out at 6:55 AM, April 14th.

Stats: 7 lbs. 7 oz. 19.5 inches long. It’s the most awesomest thing I have ever done. And I’ve been to a lot of neat places, and done many awesome things. Still, it’s the Most Awesome. He is, evidently NOT in the 90-something percentile for size, but he is in the 100th percentile of being mine.

Ok, so here’s where it gets a little dicey.

9. An hour later a Freak Occurrence: I develop a hematoma (I was in the 99th percentile of hematoma size, which is two grapefruits!) because I tore an artery in the inter-pelvic space between the birth canal and my hip. Weird, right? After receiving excellent care from my home birthing team who is puzzled by my blood loss (hematoma burst) yet Perfect Blood Pressure (seriously, I had lost more than a liter of blood at still had 120/70 blood pressure…let’s hear it for health!) I was transported to the hospital. Had two surgeries, one blood transfusion, and I’m feeling SO much better now!

A lil’ note on me: I decided when I woke up in recovery, that I would NOT view my situation as anything less than as it needed to be. While in a hazy fog I decided that I would be thankful in that moment for being flat on my back — a sensation I had come to miss while prego. Also, my husband and baby were waiting for me in my room, where the hospital let them move in and stay with me. My also super-friend-lactation expert met me 5 minutes after recovery, where she had the babe latched on in less than a few minutes. He’s in the 99th percentile of eating. Come to think of it, so am I.

Another side note: I think breastfeeding is awesome. I’m playing will all the positions and all the methods used by Hunter-Gathering populations (where they nurse for 3-5 minutes every 15-20 minutes) as well as the developed nations’ methods of feeding for longer, less often. It’s fun.

They said it would be 5-7 days before I could go home.

I was healing well in 2 days, had refused all morphine and pain meds, so they let me go home on day three. (Let’s hear it for health!)

I couldn’t walk when I came home. Wow. That was a big one for me.

They said it would be 12 weeks before I would be out walking.

I took my first walk (14 minutes) on Day 3 of being home.

I can now walk 40 minutes (slower than normal) and do so every day.

Finn has been cuddled or carried every moment of his life so far. We are practicing with different techniques and apparatuses. (Why is the plural of apparatus apparatuses and not apparati? Language seriously bugs me sometimes.) I am enjoying wearing him and no, we don’t have a stroller, which freaks people out. Which is fair, cuz there are a lot of things people do that freak me out, so we’re even.

Here he is:

Moral of the story: I, despite making excellent beans and cornbread and knowing how to ride a horse, would have been the robust pioneer woman who didn’t make it through child birth. But, thanks to my fast acting team and some great surgeons, I’m typing a blog a week and a half later.

Another moral of the story: Striving for excellent physical health can not only help you have an excellent delivery, but can also significantly impact your recovery should you have an outcome you weren’t (or were) expecting.

Looking forward to getting back to it…with modifications. Wow, it’s a lot of work! Kudos to every mom and dad out there. You are in the 99th percentile of parenting. (What the HECK is all the percentile business about, anyway. If I ever use the word “percentile” seriously, you can pour a glass of water over my head. Geesh.)

*Huge contractions have been modified to “tiny” contractions after finishing the course.

http://www.katysays.com/2011/04/27/a-baby-story-and-giveaway-results/

I've also been looking at this story according to Maslow's theory.  I find it interesting that here was a lady that had a pretty traumatic experience, and yet I felt like she was able to have all her needs met and ended up feeling good about the whole thing.

June's Birth

This is actually a short story fiction I wrote.  I started writing it a while ago and I have a little bit of a rough draft on this site.   I thought I'd post the final version again. 

June ran, laughing through the warm rain. It was monsoon season in Tucson, Arizona. For a 5 year old, that meant splashing through puddles and getting soaked while running around through the much needed rain. A miracle takes place in the desert after a rain. The dry land brings forth growth, and the brown turns hues of green. The long dormant cactus, blossoms, and sometimes you can catch a glimpse of a flower that blooms every hundred years. Death becomes life in the miracle of the downpour, and laughter springs forth from lips of children as they revel in the warm drops around them.

And, as inevitably happens with a child, a slip through the mud sent June inside with tears to her mother. June's mother held her tight, dried her tears and kissed her sores. She wrapped her in her warm arms, and June felt the warmth of love emanate from them. Then her mom began a story that June had heard quite often during frightening nights and tearful sobs. June's mom began to tell her that it was when she was lost, it was love that found her and brought her back. Thus began the tale of June's birth.

Her mother told her, that at one point she looked up as the midwife turned briefly from her side and begged her not to go. The thought that her midwife might leave drove panic into her mind, and she clung to her arm and looked at her eyes as another pain pulled her into herself. Her midwife understood where she had to go, and she allowed her to go there. Lights were dimmed and voices hushed as a woman was beginning her transformation into motherhood.

It's hard to understand from the outside where a woman goes as a pain passes through her, while her new child is making their way into this world. Her eyes close. Slow moans leave her throat. The rest of the world is blotted out as the wave rolls through her, peaks, and slowly subsides. Then the hand on another's arm is noticed once more. There is gratitude for the presence of another as she prepares herself for the roll of another wave.

The midwife looked down on this young woman, bringing life for the first time, and was filled with an immense amount of love and gratitude for what she was doing. She stayed there. Just to catch her eye at the end of each contraction. She would softly listen to the rhythmic beat of the babies heart to ensure the child was safe, and then sit on the chair by the mother's side. Occasionally she would lean in with her weight on the mother's knees to relive some pressure during the peak. June's mom would say that her touch was filled with love, and that love was her balm. She then found the courage to fill her own soul with love. Then she allowed that love to flow around her child as the baby moved it's way into this world with a big belly cry. With a smile, the midwife faced the new mother and told her, “You did that so well, I think you could have 12 more of these babies”. A slow smile crept across the mothers face, as she let the love of her child soak into her soul.

June allowed that love to surround her there, sitting on her mothers knee and it slowly lulled her to sleep while the water poured on the ground, getting ready to bring the green of the monsoon rains.

An empowering c-section

It almost seems like an oxymoron to say a c-section is empowering, but check out this lady's birth story. That's how she described her attempt to VBAC. Unfortunately, she had a cord pro-lapse, but she also had some very good midwifes that helped her out. http://blog.ican-online.org/2011/04/28/cam-birth-stories-from-cesarean-to-empowering-cbac/

"I don’t feel traumatized from this birth. I got to go into labor on my own, I labored through strong contractions and felt amazing. I feel incredibly empowered by the fact that when ** hit the fan, I stayed calm. If I can focus on my breath through this, I can endure anything. And I know if you can fight back like you did, you most certainly can endure anything, too."

The elements of feeling empowered have to do with control. Here, this woman felt empowered because she was able to labor and work through contractions even though things were chaotic. I'm sure this also helped her baby get what oxygen it could because she was able to keep calm.

So how do we help women feel empowered? By allowing them to make choices and helping them to realize their own strengths no matter what the situation.

Letting go

http://www.theunnecesarean.com/blog/2010/10/20/baggage-check.html

I read this post, and it really summed up what labor is like for many women. What happens many times during labor, is that we have this perfect image of what it is supposed to be and how things will play out. But like many things in life, labor doesn't always go as planned. Even if it's just the fact that you didn't get the epidural right when you wanted it. Interestingly enough, most research shows that it's not the amount of pain a woman experiences that determines how you feel about a birth, but how much control you feel. But sometimes labor is uncontrollable.

Here's the almost almost nonsensical thing about labor and birth. Yes, you need to have as much control as you can, but you also have to learn to give up control. It's interesting, but by giving up control(to your body, to the fact that your baby really does need resuscitation help, to allowing the contractions to role through you), you are really allowing yourself more control. Does that make sense?:) Sort of.

I read in a book about different women's birthing experiences and how they perceived them. With two different women, they both were pressured to have iv's in labor. One fought it and got what she wanted but she perceived her experience as being negative. The other knew that she would have to fight and choose at that time that it wasn't worth it and let them give her an iv. She perceived her experience as being positive. So who gave up control in these situations and was it worth it or not. That's really not for me to decide, but I thought it was interesting.

Another example from my own labors: When I fight contractions, they hurt more. But there is an innate desire to be in control of them. To conquer them, to take charge of your body. So when I try and control those contractions, I have more pain. When I take a step back and allow my body to just do what it needs to do...in a sense giving up my desire to control it, it is less painful and more fulfilling. When I accept the pain as just being, that pain decreases. So by allowing myself to give up control...I become more in control? Sounds funny, but true.

This happens in so many walks of life. There are so many instances when I can say that I am more peaceful, more fulfilled and happier when I allow myself to let go. For instance, the other night I was upset with myself for something I said to my daughter. I wanted to make it better, amend my wrongs and apologize. But, it was 11pm...she was sound asleep. So I sat and stewed for a while. I couldn't let it go...I needed control and to see it through. I slept horribly that night. If I had been able to let go of what I couldn't control, I would have had a much better night, and things would have still turned out the same(I was able to talk to her the next day).

Now I would never try and judge another's situation and whether or not they should let something go...that's a very personal issue, but I do think there is a value in letting go of things. And as odd as it sounds, peace really is gained sometimes when we are able to let go of control.

Enjoying the small things

http://www.kellehampton.com/2010/01/nella-cordelia-birth-story.html

I'm on a role today, but I've found another amazing birth story. It certainly made me cry:)

Spirit Babies

Here's a story I really liked from Babycatcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife by Peggy Vincent. I think partly why I liked this was because when I had my miscarriage, I came to a similar conclusion to the little boy in this story.

"Colin, my twelve-year-old son, discovered me late one rainy afternoon sitting at the kitchen table, a damp Kleenex crumpled in my left hand, wiping my eyes as I tried to compose myself for his sake. It was the third week of January, two months after I'd miscarried a pregnancy, but I still found it impossible to get through a day without at least one meltdown into misery.

Stunned when the test came back positive, [my husband] Rog and I had stared at each other with doubt and ambivalence. At forty-one, my professional life consumed me. I'd just achieved what some had predicted was an impossibility: I'd been granted delivery privileges at Alta Bates, and as a consequence, my midwifery practice burgeoned. Some months I delivered twelve babies, and no one ever knew if or when I'd be home. Rog, too, felt stretched to his limits, keeping his business afloat while picking up the slack for my frequent unscheduled absences. Colin and Jill approached their challenging adolescent years. How could we fit an infant into our lives? But when I lost the pregnancy and all hope for resolution dissolved with my tears, I fell in love with the baby that was not to be.

Colin asked, "Are you crying about the baby?" and when I nodded tearfully, he said, "Well, you just have to have another one, Mom, because it's a Spirit Baby, and you should be its mother."

I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Don't you know about Spirit Babies? How could I know about them if you don't? I mean, you're my mom!" But he could see my perplexity.

So my first child, this not-yet-teenaged boy, pulled a wooden chair to my side and draped his thin arm across my shoulders, saying, "Well, Mom, here's how it is. See, I was one myself, so that must be how I know. Anyway, every woman has a circle of babies that goes around and around above her head, and those are all the possible babies she could have in her whole life. Every month, one of those babies is first in line. If she gets pregnant, then that's the baby that's born. If she doesn't get pregnant, the baby goes back into the circle and keeps going around with all the others. If she gets pregnant but something bad happens before the baby's born ... now listen, Mom, because here's the really cool part. It goes back into the circle, but it becomes a Spirit Baby, and all the other babies give it cuts. Each month, it's always first in line. Isn't that great?

"So you just have to get pregnant again, and you'll have the same Spirit Baby. If you don't, though, then the baby circle will just beam that little Spirit Baby over to some other woman's circle, and it'll be first in line for her. It keeps being first in line somewhere until it finally gets born.

"But it'd be a shame for you not to have it yourself, because I know how much you want it. So you just have to try again. Mom, remember that baby you lost before I was born?" I nodded wordlessly. "Well, that was me. Really. I've always known I was a Spirit Baby. I mean, I know what I'm talking about here, Mom."

In spite of Colin's certainty that our household, so often bordering on chaos, lacked only an infant to make things perfect, Rog and I demurred. But Colin didn't give up and even enlisted his sister's support. Driving with them in the car one evening, I looked at my son in the passenger seat beside me. He stared out the side window and tried to hide his tears, but I saw the flush on his face, the shaking of his shoulders, and the surreptitious swipe of hand across cheek.

Six months had passed since my miscarriage, and I had just finished yet another discussion in which I'd told my pleading son that having a third baby at my age was out of the question. I reached over the space between us and squeezed his fingers. "Colin, I don't understand this passion you have for a baby. Why do you want one so much?"

He tore his gaze from the distant hills and looked at me with swimming eyes and trembling lips. In a choking voice, he put all of his twelve-year-old passion into his reply.

"Oh, Mom! Oh. Just for the joy of it!"

Jill stretched forward from the back seat and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Yeah, Mom, just for the joy of it."

It was my turn to look out the side window and struggle with misty vision. So, at a time when most women eye the empty nest at the end of their branch on the family tree with something approaching relief, I gave consideration to laying just one more egg. Several months of discussions peppered with doubt and disbelief followed. Although Rog and I made the final decision, there's no denying that a big part of our decision to have a third child began with the insistence of our adolescent children that we "needed a baby in the house." Rog and I took a deep breath, looked at each other across the blond heads of those two wishful children, swallowed -- and made a giant leap of faith.

I conceived my Spirit Baby a week later. Just for the joy of it".

A window to the divine-my daughter's birth story

Some one actually suggested I take caster oil. I was dying to have this little baby girl, but I wasn't too sure I was that desperate. I had never taken caster oil before, but I imagined it tasted something like fish and black mold. It at least looked something like that. By the time I was almost two weeks overdue, though, caster oil was starting to sound OK. I'm sure my neighbors got a kick out of watching the big fat pregnant woman doing jumping jacks in the backyard. It wasn't to fun for me though. Try jumping with at least 35 lbs of weight around your waist and you'll understand. Walking didn't work either. Whoever said that walking will help put you into labor, were just trying to give you something to do. I know I walked about one hundred miles that last month with no signs of labor coming soon.

On the other hand, looking back now, I don't think I appreciated some of the good parts of pregnancy. In my impatience, I disregarded some of the small, seemingly inconsequential moments that connected me to something beyond myself. It was fun to watch the tiny ripple of little limbs moving across my stomach, letting me know of her presence. I still remember the first time I even felt her move. My husband and I were on a bus in Costa Rica and all of sudden small bumps were pushing their way up to the surface. Brent's hand lay on my stomach with mine on top while Emma bumped her hello to us. It was a connection I won't forget.

There were countless times, especially as I got larger, that I would lay my hand absentmindedly on my stomach and feel her presence there. It left me with a sense of love, awe, and gratitude for the opportunity to be a part of the workings of creation. Sometimes I would hold my stomach in the shower and sing to her, talk to her, and tell her how much I loved her. I would imagine what she would look like, and how she would act. In reality, it was during those 9 months that I learned what the beginning of love really was. It prepared me for the powerful impact that giving birth and becoming a mother would have in my life.

And becoming a mother definitely has had an impact. In fact, this beginning part, the beginning of motherhood, had a huge impact on me. It was during my time of pregnancy and birth that I began to grow into someone different. I was becoming something new. I was becoming a mother.

When I went in for my 41 1/2 week check up I was just barely dilated enough for the midwife to sweep my membranes. That did it though, and by 8 that night labor had commenced. Brent, and I were watching Ann of Green Gables. He would sit behind me and hold me while I had a contraction. It is sort of a sweet memory. Not just only then, but all of my memories of him holding me, rocking me, supporting me while I worked through each contraction. There were times when I would support myself on my knees and rock while he stood behind me and rubbed my back. I think it was through my labor that he learned how to give back massages. Other times we would stand together with my arms around him and I would work at welcoming the pain and the new life that each contraction brought with it.

I labored through the night at home waiting for when it would be time to go to the birth center where I was planning on giving birth. See, the midwifes had a rule. It wasn't the 5 min. apart rule. It was you are ready to come in when you can no longer talk through contractions. When it takes intense concentration to breath and relax through each one, then it is time to come in. I think I look back on that time a little more rosy now that I'm not longer experiencing it, but it was a time to work with Brent, to learn about myself, to share the excitement of a new born life moving it's way down and preparing to come into this world. I wish I had paid more attention to it.

But eventually there came a time when the midwifes, after talking to me on the phone, said it is time to come in. Now was the time to really work hard. At one point I remember looking at Brent and telling him I couldn't do this anymore. I don't remember his exact response, but I remember his eyes. They looked at me with concern and support. I can still see them now when I think back. At that point, he couldn't take that pain away. He didn't even really know what I was feeling. But I knew that he loved me. That is a knowledge I took away with me and cherish today.

Other little passing memories float around from that time. Sitting on the bed in anticipation, soaking in the tub to help relieve the pain, feeling the intensity and almost unbearable pain of transition. My midwife, Karen, is a soft shadow in these memories. Sometimes by my side, sometimes in the next room. She, of course, was monitoring baby's heart beat and attending to the safety of birth, but she did so much more. She held my hand and wiped my brow. She cleaned up after me and shared in the wonder of the moment as I began to push my daughter out. She calmed me when I felt out of control, and helped me to bring my daughter out into this world with peace and happiness.

And then she was here. As most moms can tell you, new babies really aren't that cute. Emma came out a little blue, with a funny shaped head, and ears that were bent over. After Brent went to go wash his hands he kept telling himself he would love her anyways. For me though, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. To try and use words to describe how I felt at that time would be completely inadequate. All I can say is that it was the greatest sense of love, peace and joy that I have ever felt. As a looked at her I felt a part of the divine was right there with me.

That feeling of the Divine stays with me as I am now a labor and delivery nurse. Each time I stop to think about what I am witnessing, a sense of awe washes over me and a reverence for the experience that labor and birth can bring with it. I am filled with a deep sense of love for these women as they too begin their journey into the beginning of motherhood.

Guest post-A. Marie Serapio

I remember the very first time I thought about 'giving' birth to a child. I was a 15 year old girl (barely a freshman) sitting in the hallway of my new high school with my friend and her older cousin. She was recounting her friend's birth story who graduated just last year. My mouth dropped and all I could remember from the story were 2 things: 1. vagina tearing and 2. pooping in room with your doctor, nurses and husband watching. Who knew that happened? Certainly not me. On that day, I made up my mind that drugs was the ONLY way to get through child birth.

Fast forward about twelve years later to 2008. I married my high school sweetheart, and we were pregnant just after two years from saying I DO. At 27 years old, I didn't do anything without researching books and the internet for everything and anything about pregnancy and babies. I needed to know what was going to happen to my body every step of the way from pregnancy to birth. I started with learning about the women in my family. My mom told me that she had me after 19 hours of labor and an epidural gone wrong made her back hurt more than the contractions. My aunt had her baby girl at home by accident! She didn't know she was in labor. How was I going to get through child birth? Was the epidural still my answer.

As I continued to research and read more books, I decided that the best way for me was to try a natural child birth. No, drugs was not my answer now. This was a huge decision for me because I cringe at the thought of any pain. I'm scared of bees because they could sting and cause pain. I told a few co-workers and friends about my plan, and I knew they didn't think I would be able to do it. I decided to take Bradley classes because I thought it was the best option for a natural child birth. My husband was very supportive of my decision and we started our 12 week class. I had a ton of information in my head, but I decided to go ahead and also read "Birthing From Within."

Some people still didn't understand why I wanted to go this route. It was simple to me - I trusted my body. In the beginning of my pregnancy, I had twins. Two little heart beats showed up on the sonogram, but one of the babies had only 90 bpm (beats per minute). The nurse/midwife informed me that this was really low and it was nature's call now. In next few weeks I was back in the hospital and they couldn't find the other heart beat. After some heart ache and time, I went into the ER because I had these weird pains in my abdominal. They were unsure about the pains but they found a mass that seemed to be growing along side my surviving baby (who was completely healthy). I saw a specialist and she told me the other mass was the demised twin B. The two babies were sharing another umbilical cord to each other and the live twin A was pumping blood to twin B and tissue was growing because of the blood - official name for it is Arcardic Twining Syndrome. 1 in every 30,000 twin pregnancies are diagnosed with this "problem".

There were only two options for me according to my doctor. One, have an experimental surgery to cut off the connection with a laser. Second, have an abortion. The specialist told me that this pregnancy was not healthy and hinted that abortion was best for me. I could start over again were her exact words. At that moment, all I could think of was my healthy, bouncing off the walls during my last sonogram session 16 week old baby. It took me less than a minute to decide that I wanted the surgery. Then I was off to another specialist who was going to perform my surgery three weeks later. And the most amazing thing happened during my appointment. He told me that the blood flow had significantly reduced and the problem was fixing itself. I knew that the problem wasn't fixing itself - my body was fixing the problem.

If I didn't have a high risk pregnancy, I probably would have looked into home birth, birthing centers, midwives, etc. I had my baby at 35 weeks from an induction by pitocin (PIT). I yelled and screamed through the pain. No, drugs was not on my birth plan. After 6 long hours of hard pain by PIT, I was ready to push out my baby girl. My L&D nurse was holding my right hand and my doula was holding my left hand. I could see my husband in the corner of my eye. (He was kicked out the room twice by my nurse because he was getting paler and paler.) At 6:03pm, she was born.

I never knew what it meant to be a woman until I gave birth. I pushed to give my baby life when everyone doubted she could be here. I loved my baby when I couldn't even see her face. This experience taught me that I am tougher than nails. I can trust my instincts. I can trust my body. And of course - I don't need drugs to give birth.

Accepting and embracing pain

"What an amazing feeling to experience the pains of bringing a child into the world. I am by no means saying that I was strong about it or didn't do my share of wanting it to be over. I got whiny, and whimpered at times over the 12-hour labor. Yet, through it all, I loved the fact that I could sacrifice in this way. Through experiencing the pain, I could be the life-giver! In this society we are taught to be afraid of pain and to do whatever we can to rid ourselves of it. Instead, the key is to accept and integrate it. Tim likened it to the way sun dancers give of themselves and endure great physical pain to pray for their loved ones."

I loved this woman's birth story! You can find it here: http://www.babycenter.com/100_birth-story-a-native-american-journey_5235224.bc

What I really appreciated was her idea that the key to working through labor is to accept it, and integrate it. I have found how important these two things are and that it is an on going process from the time you first decide to work on it, to after the baby is born. I have seen that labors are the most painful when women no longer do this. It's at the time that they decide they absolutely need the epidural that the pain becomes true pain. It's when they start fighting it and pushing it back, that it becomes unconquerable.

I found this to be true with my own labors. I have very vivid memories of one time in particular when I forgot to accept the pain and it hurt much worse than it had before. I pulled myself back in and refocused by allowing the pain to work through me. I was amazed at the difference between one contraction and the next.

Guest post-Athena B. Serapio

I'm going to repost this in a little bit:) Stay tuned.

Guest Post-Cherylyn Douglas:My Birth Transformation

I credit my mother for instilling in me a desire to give birth naturally, without pain medication. She was having babies in a time when women were being confined to bed and separated from their husbands, and even being knocked out with ether or chloroform during labor and having their babies delivered by doctors with forceps. Often they would wake with no memory of birth and wonder if they had a boy or a girl. My mom felt strongly that birth is a natural process and she could do this without the medical interventions of the day. She took Lamaze classes with my dad and went on to give birth to 6 healthy babies, each without pain medication other than a paracervical injection to numb the cervix for the pushing stage. She spoke openly about this with me and my sister when we were growing up, and I wanted to have that experience for myself.

When I was pregnant with my first baby my husband and I took a childbirth class at the local county health department and they taught us some basic breathing techniques and comfort measures. However, the majority of the class was dedicated to educating us about the actual function of birth, complete with diagrams and charts and explanations of the stages of labor and when to go to the hospital. I joined online birthing websites and read books and tried to educate myself as much as possible about birth. I felt if I could be well-informed then there was no need to be afraid. Unfortunately, I was still not prepared for what I would experience.

My water broke spontaneously and I had no noticeable contractions. Of course, I had been told to immediately go to the hospital if my water broke, so I did as I had been told to do. The hospital staff immediately started me on pitocin to get my labor going. It was a long, hard battle. The pitocin did indeed get my labor going, but it also made the labor so intense and difficult that I didn't know how to handle it. I forgot everything I had learned in our childbirth class about breathing and working with the contractions. I had told myself that I wanted to birth naturally, but if it got too hard then I would get the epidural, and that's exactly what happened. The epidural slowed my labor, and then the baby's heartbeat was erratic. The doctor explained that they would stop the pitocin to give the baby a break from the onslaught of contractions and give him some time to recover. They would then start the pitocin again and see if my labor would progress after that. He used the dreaded c-word and explained that if my labor did not progress at that point, they would do surgery. My greatest fear was materializing and I was terrified. I cried, and my family comforted me.

Thankfully, the plan worked and a c-section was not necessary. My epidural wore off just in time to start pushing, and I went from feeling completely numb to feeling absolutely EVERYTHING. I was not prepared for that kind of pain, and I endured it for 90 minutes while I pushed my baby out. It was traumatic. He was born in the middle of the night, healthy, after a full day of hard labor, and we were both exhausted. The nurses told me they would take the baby to the nursery so that I could rest, and I complied because I thought they knew best. I slept fitfully, and then woke up around 6am in a panic without my baby! I paged the nurses and had them bring him in immediately, and I did not calm down until he was with me. Breastfeeding was a challenge because he was so sleepy. I hadn't had the chance to establish breastfeeding immediately after birth and the baby was tired and sluggish, and I didn't know what I was doing! The lactation consultant was not helpful, but thankfully we figured it out and I went on to breastfeed my son for over a year.

Three years later I was pregnant with my second child, and I had decided that childbirth was just too much for me to handle without an epidural. When my doctor told me we could schedule an induction, I thought it was wonderful that we could plan it out and know when the baby would be born! I didn't know anything other than induction and epidural, and this was my way of taking control of the situation. It was a wonderful experience, and I remember chatting and laughing with my husband and the obstetrician while I was pushing. It was 4 ½ hours from the time they started the pitocin until my beautiful baby boy was born, compared to over 14 hours with my first. I was in a smaller community hospital this time, and the atmosphere was calmer and I felt I got more attention from the staff. I was able to hold my baby very soon after he was born, after the staff had checked him out and weighed and measured him. I had him latched on and breastfeeding before the doctor even left the room. I didn't like how long it took for my epidural wore off after he was born. I wanted to be able to move around and enjoy my baby and the birth being over, and that was an annoyance.

Two years passed and I was expecting our third baby. My husband, Matthew was in massage therapy school and he worked at the front desk of a massage clinic. He told me that one of the therapists there was a doula and she wanted to work with me and provide support for me at the baby's birth. I didn't know what a doula was, but I wanted to talk with her because I had many questions and I thought maybe she could help me. Mandy and I immediately bonded. I told her I had always wanted to give birth without medication but I didn't know how to do it! She told me she would help, and she answered all of my questions and helped me feel at ease about approaching birth in a new way. She helped me write a birth plan, outlining my wishes for childbirth. I realized that I had choices and could let the doctor and hospital staff know how I wanted to handle things rather than let them take the lead and tell me what to do. My obstetrician was very open to my wishes and willing to work with me, and I checked with hospital policies to ensure that my desires were feasible within their limitations.

I didn't know what to expect because I had never experienced my body starting labor on its own. I was sent home from the hospital three times because I wasn't progressing enough to be admitted, but I was determined not to be induced. I had early labor for about two days, and Mandy taught me how to breathe with the contractions and work with my body. The third time I was sent home from the hospital I decided to go home and sleep. My labor stopped for about a day, and I rested as much as I could. The next morning, my water broke while I was in bed, and Mandy met up with us at the hospital. It was beautiful! Because of the practice I'd had with my early labor, I knew how to breathe and focus.

Mandy and Matt worked together to provide comfort measures for me, including acupressure points and counter pressure on my hips, knees and lower back. I wasn't hooked up to an IV pole or monitors, and I could move around as I wanted to, leaning on the birth ball or walking around. I even got into the tub in my room for a little while, but it was too shallow to give me much comfort. I focused through the contractions and enjoyed the company of my husband and my doula between them. Only once during transition did I feel I couldn't do it, and Mandy told me “You ARE doing it!” She kept me focused and helped me through it all, and the hard part was relatively short. My healthy baby boy was born within a few hours of arriving at the hospital, and I felt like a super hero! I was energetic and happy, and I had never before experienced such euphoria after giving birth. I was able to breastfeed my baby immediately after his birth, and we spend some quiet time with him in our room without any interruptions from hospital staff. The nurses were very curious and asked me which birth method I preferred (epidural or no medication) and I told them I would do natural birth again without a doubt!

When I got pregnant with my fourth baby, I knew what I wanted. I had been permanently converted to unmedicated birth. My husband had a client who was a home birth midwife, and she offered her services if I wanted to have my baby at home. I politely declined, explaining that I had my OB, my doula, and my birth plan and I knew what I wanted. This time I was determined not to be sent home from the hospital, and I intentionally labored as long as possible at home. Again I had two days of early labor, and the labor stopped for a few hours while I attended my baby shower and then started up again later that night. My husband and I were watching TV, and when I got up to use the bathroom I felt a leak. I told him that either I had wet myself or my water had broken.

We called Mandy and made arrangements to meet her at the hospital. I was admitted in the middle of the night and labored for a few hours, using focused breathing and trying to rest between contractions. The doctor arrived in the morning and suggested that he could break my water to get labor going faster. It turned out the leaking I had was a forebag and not the actual bag of waters. I was ready to have a baby, so I agreed and he ruptured the bag. After that things went quickly and our beautiful baby girl was born within a few hours. Once again my husband and my doula worked together to give me the support I needed, and it was a wonderful, empowering experience. The baby latched on immediately and we bonded. My baby was beautiful, and I was thrilled to finally have a little girl, but there was a subtle nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I felt like something was missing.

When my daughter was still a newborn I decided to become a birth doula. I wanted to help other women as my doula had helped me. I felt she was indispensable in my achieving the beautiful natural birth experience I had always wanted. I started reading all the required books and took the doula training. I couldn't get enough information about birth! I watched The Business of Being Born, and learned that some women still safely give birth at home rather than at a hospital. Within a year I found I was pregnant, expecting my fifth child. I felt that I had some different choices to make, and I started thinking about planning a home birth. I researched it and thought about it and prayed about it. I felt peace, and it was a wonderful overwhelming peace. I knew I wanted to have this baby at home.

I called the midwife whose services I had declined for my daughter's birth, and started going to regular prenatal visits with her. I went to my obstetrician's office a few times during the pregnancy for certain things like an ultrasound, blood work and screenings, but the rest of my prenatal care was provided by my midwife. I trusted her and her 15 years of experience with home birth. I also met her birth attendants who were all doulas and midwives.

I had early labor, on and off, for over a week. I was anxious to meet my baby, but I had to practice more patience than ever before. I used the time to prepare things in our home for the birth. Four days past the due date, my midwife brought the birthing tub to our house and did a brief check for the baby's heartbeat, with my four children watching. Later that evening, my contractions were coming closer together and stronger. My midwife came over and set things up and we settled in to have a baby. I was focusing and breathing through the contractions and leaning on my birth ball. I labored in the bed and rested between contractions, and in the birth tub immersed in water up to my neck. The water dissolved the discomfort of the contractions and my husband pressed acupressure points while I breathed through them. We chatted with the midwife and enjoyed the quiet and peaceful atmosphere. I have never experienced such peace in the hospital.

As things progressed, a second midwife came to assist, and she cleaned my kitchen and helped get the kids settled when they started waking up in the morning. At one point while I was resting in bed, my water broke in a small leak and my midwife ruptured the bag the rest of the way. The kids went to play at grandma's house and things really picked up! We called the two oldest boys to come home and I as I was pushing we realized the baby was coming out breech! His bottom was coming out first. I was in the birth tub, and it felt really good to stretch my body out as I pushed. His bottom came out, then one leg, and then the other leg. Then his torso was delivered, followed by an arm, and then the other arm. And then, as my 6 year-old described it, “he put the hands and the feet on the bum cheeks, and he pushed his head out!” I only pushed for a few minutes, and my beautiful baby boy was here! He was healthy and perfect. I held him in the tub with me for a couple of minutes before the midwives helped me out to deliver the placenta, and then into bed. We cuddled and bonded as a family, and our oldest son cut the umbilical cord.

I've realized since my home birth that if I had planned a hospital birth for my breech baby, it would have ended in a cesarean section. If that was the only benefit of having him at home, it was definitely worth it, but there were many other blessings of having our baby at home as well.

I don't consider my home birth to have been a painful birth. I felt intense pain with my hospital births, and there were moments of discomfort during my home birth but never what I would describe as pain. I think it had to do with the peace I felt and the confidence I had gained from my previous birth experiences. I am no longer the meek woman willing to submit to whatever the doctor tells me I should do. I know exactly what I want and how to achieve my goals. I know what I am capable of, and I feel stronger than I ever have in my life.

I used to regret my earlier birth experiences, wishing I had experienced unmedicated birth from the first rather than the traumatic experience it was. Now I'm grateful for those earlier experiences for the way they've shaped me as a person and as a mother. My first birth experience was an important catalyst in motivating me to find a better way for me to give birth. I don't feel that there is one birth choice that is best for every woman, but I hope that each woman can know that birth is beautiful and empowering, and if you don't experience it that way then find out how you can.

Birth Stories

As part of these birthing classes I am putting together, I want to have a day set aside to honor the woman who is becoming a mother. During this class I would love to be able to share positive birth stories that help uplift and inspire. As such, I would love if anyone would like to contribute to this. I have a few questions that I would like for anyone to answer. They are questions that are posed by Pan England in Birthing From Within.

1. What helped you most when you gave birth?

2. What was your spiritual experience of giving birth?

3. Is there anything you would do differently?

4. What do you wish you had known before hand?

5. If you could do it over again, what do you wish you could do the same?

You could answer one of these or all.