It was Tuesday, June 2, 2009 at around 5:00 pm. Robert was gardening, and I started to get some strong, consistent pressure waves (contractions). Robert came in the house, but I told him not to call the midwife or doula yet, since I had been having pressure waves on and off for about 2 weeks, and was not sure that this was “it.” But these were different. They came about every 1.5 minutes, were pretty intense, but only lasted about 40 seconds. At around 6:00 pm, he called our doula, Jennifer, and told her about the waves. I got on the phone with her, told her that I was not sure that this was the real thing, and that I was going to try to sleep and get some rest. Robert told her he’d call her in an hour.
Just 20 minutes later, it was apparent that this definitely the real thing, so Robert called Jennifer and asked her to come right away. I was ready to have the baby! The waves were every 2 minutes, right on top of each other, and were extremely strong, with no chance to catch my breath in between.
Despite having been to our home before, Jennifer (after braving rush hour traffic) got a little lost, as most people do even after being to our home many times! I tried to stay calm, and take each wave as it came and not think too far into the future. My Buddhist mindfulness training had finally come to a necessary use!
Robert had to go outside to the street to flag Jennifer down, which left me alone with the most intense waves. He was gone for about 10 minutes, and Jennifer arrived around 7:00 pm.
I was upstairs in the rocking chair, going totally limp every 1.5 minutes with each wave. When a wave hit, the thing that felt most natural was to stand with my legs giving out, or to squat, with my arms draped around either Jennifer’s or Robert’s shoulders. I remembered in our Bradley Method childbirth class learning about the different stages of labor and what to expect. Transition was the stage most difficult to most moms, and was the stage most everyone asks for drugs and feels like they cannot go on—it is the steepest part of the mountain. I told Jennifer (also our Bradley instructor), “I think I’m in transition.” She replied, “You could be,” and later told me that she thought, “…but you probably aren’t!”
We went downstairs, and I went to the bathroom and saw that I had lost my mucus plug.
She suggested that we go for a walk so that my pelvis would open and the baby would descend. This sounded like the worst suggestion in the world, but after a little complaining, I ventured outside. I only made it about 20 feet from the house, and was having wave after wave, with no break in between.
Right before I went into labor, we ordered a pizza (which came during labor). Robert decided to grab a piece on the way out for our walk. As I would lean into and onto him, I would smell the pizza, which (despite being one of my favorite foods) smelled SO incredibly disgusting at that moment. To see him eat while I was in such intense and bone-crushing pain made me angry. I yelled at him to get the pizza away from my face. I would lean on Jennifer’s shoulders, bearing down on her with all my weight. I remember thinking, “She’s so tiny, and I’m going to break her.” After a little while outside, I told her I wanted to push.
Once inside, I sat down on the recliner in the living room, as Robert turned on our bath for pain relief. I told Jennifer, “I can’t do this. I need drugs, and I need to go to the hospital.” Jennifer said, “You CAN do this; you ARE doing this.” It was at that moment that I made the decision that I was going to listen to my body, trust it, and stay at home. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
While waiting for the bath to fill up, I complained of back labor. Jennifer had me get on all fours and do some pelvic rocks for relief (it did not work). I sat on the birth ball, and felt like I was going to split in two. The thought of lying down was spine-chillingly scary to me. Thankfully, I got some relief when I got in the warm tub of water around 8:00 pm. As an aside, I do not remember anything between getting upstairs and getting in the bath. Jennifer and Robert told me this.
Robert had paged our midwife, Angela (but accidentally paged the not-on-call Lorri before getting it correct). Angela, who was coming from Long Beach, was on her way, as was a NICU nurse from CHOC, Brianna, who was training to become a midwife. Of course, Angela got lost too (note to self—next time make signs in advance, and put them up when in early labor), as she had never been to our home before, and by this time it was almost dark.
I told Robert and Jennifer that I wanted to push. At first, Jennifer said to go ahead, but then, while on the phone with Angela receiving instructions, told me to stop pushing. Now, when the birthing mother’s body feels the need to push, it is akin to having violent stomach flu, and telling mom to stop pushing is like saying to the person with flu to stop throwing up. You just can’t stop it. The body pushes, and mom just goes along with it—it is yet another amazing thing our wise body does for us.
So I told them I would stop pushing. I tried not to push along with my body pushing.
Angela and Brianna arrived around 8:30 pm. I was finally given the “ok” to push. And I did with all my might. With each pressure wave, Jennifer would tell me to take two cleansing breaths to give my body oxygen, and then on the third breath to push. She’d remind me to relax my face, and chanted, “Down, down, down, push that baby down!” This was all so helpful. I was basically in a trance. I became one with my body and my waves, and closed my eyes most of the time. I did let out a few curses and a few bellowing screams, but for the most part, was pretty quiet (for me). My dad later told me that he and my mom had come over to turn the lights on our walkway on for the birth attendants, and at the moment of switching it on (on the side of the house, where the bathroom is), heard me let out a blood-curdling scream that he will never forget.
When I say that pushing was painful, I mean painful! I said a few times that I couldn’t believe people actually had babies! I think that breaking a few bones would have hurt less. But this was for a reason; this was finite pain, a good pain. It was also extra painful due to a couple of complications (I’ll get to that soon). Also, would I do it again naturally? In a heartbeat!
I never planned a water birth, nor did I plan birth positions. When my midwife asked me if I was planning a water birth, I told her, “I just want to see what feels most comfortable for me at the time of birth and do that—be it the bath or bed, laying or standing or squatting.” Well, the bath is what felt the most comfortable. In fact, I cannot imagine laboring or birthing anywhere else.
The entire time I was in the bath, I was squatting. A few times between waves, I would stretch my legs and body, but then would go back to squatting. That is what felt the best and most natural.
After maybe 20 minutes of pushing, I reached down and felt the baby crowning. Amazingly, I could also feel the bag of waters around his head—my water hadn’t broken! Finally, the “ring of fire” appeared and stayed for a little longer than I had hoped—basically until his entire body was out. Then James’ head was born under water. Angela checked him and found that his hand was out by his face, which can cause dangerous complications for mom and baby, including shoulder dysplasia and broken collarbones. I did not know that he was born with a nuchal hand until after birth. His cord was also wrapped around his neck. She immediately told me to turn over on all fours. I said that I would rather stay squatting, and she repeated herself. So I turned over, my body still under water. His head was out for at least 3 minutes until his body followed (I believe the bag of waters broke when his head came out).
With a nuchal hand, they want the baby to be birthed quickly but by mom alone (no tugging by midwife). It was VERY difficult to birth his body, since he had such a difficult presentation. Everyone was telling me to push, push, push. I kept thinking, “I thought that with homebirths, they just let you push when you want to!” I didn’t realize this was a medically-necessitated demand. I kept telling them I couldn’t do it, and to just “PULL HIM OUT!” They assured me that I could do it, and I just kept pushing, for what seemed like forever. Finally, just when I thought I would never be able to get him out, James Benford Fair made his way into the world. It was 9:27 pm. My father was born at 9:27 am.
The midwife immediately passed James to Robert, who passed him to me, and I held him in my arms, totally forgetting the pain and the intense work I had just gone through. I had eyes only for him, and said, “My baby! My baby! He's beautiful! He's beautiful! It’s nice to finally meet you!” He was just beautiful, perfect, and so peaceful. His eyes were wide open, and he carefully surveyed each person in the room. I got out of the bath, and fed James right away on the bed and birthed the placenta. We allowed the cord to stay attached to the placenta for about 1.5 hours after his birth. After about an hour, the nurse helped me to the shower. James stayed up for 4 hours, just studying his new world calmly and peacefully. He weighed 8 lbs 12 ounces, but probably weighed more like 9 lbs, since he "got rid of" a little weight soon after he was born.
Robert and I couldn’t sleep that night- we were on a “birth high!” It was the most magical, loving and powerful night of my life.
That night, there was a rainless thunderstorm (in June!), and an orchid that had been dead for many months outside our bedroom window started to bloom again.
