Before I had a natural birth, I was a natural birth. Back in the 80’s, when epidurals were the cool new thing and very few moms were going the natural route, my mom did. She told me her birth stories,and my dad told me how proud he was of her. I grew up knowing that when I had babies of my own, I wanted to birth them naturally.

However, that’s not how it happened with my first baby. As soon as I made it to 40 weeks, my doctor pressured me to schedule an induction. I reluctantly agreed, feeling that I didn’t really have an option. So, early on the third day past my due date, my doctor broke my water and started Pitocin. It got very intense very quickly, and I took an epidural as soon as I could just to save my strength. My sweet boy was born safely that afternoon, and I was thrilled.

For several months, I was content with my first birth. But occasionally I would meet someone who’d had a natural birth, and I still felt tingles in my spine as they talked about it. I had a deep need to fully experience the birth of a child, in all its challenge and for all its glory. I knew I would never be content if I didn’t. Three years later, when we were pregnant with our second baby, I was determined that it would be different this time. I found a new doctor, I hired Kelly as my doula, and I took a childbirth class taught by Fredia.

Apparently I bake my babies a long time. My due date came and went again, with only erratic contractions. Finally, on the fifth day past 40 weeks, I woke up at 1 AM with crampy contractions! I got up and ate a little bit while I timed my contractions. They kept coming, and I coped easily using deep breathing and relaxation techniques. I got my husband up when I was sure this was the real thing. I moved from a sitting position to lying on my side, and eventually I settled into an all-fours position. That’s where I was when Kelly got to my house. I was so excited to see her; it was really time!

Then the contractions really started getting intense. Standing or sitting upright during a contraction was almost unbearable because of the downward pressure. When deep breathing was no longer enough to help me relax, I started vocalizing a deep moan. This helped me continue to cope through those stronger contractions. After several of those, Kelly started encouraging us to get ready to move to the hospital. I was well past the stage when the doctor tells you to call, but we knew I wanted to labor at home as long as possible in order to streamline my admission to the hospital. We left the house around 6 AM. We drove fast down I-59, with our flashers on, me on my knees in the reclined front seat, facing the back. Once we got there, I had a deep urge to get settled in my room, to be on my knees in a bed again and stay there until this baby came out. I hustled inside, stopping to lean on something during contractions. I remember people kept asking if I wanted a wheelchair (as if I could have sat down!). When I got in my room, I got back on all fours in the bed. The contractions were really intense by then, and some of them were doubling up on the previous one. I remember thinking I couldn’t do this much longer. Those 5 minutes were evidently my transition phase. About that time, I was rather curtly telling the nurse that she couldn’t check my cervix until I was ready to push. She was a good sport and left me to it while she gathered her equipment. Not long after she left the room, my body kicked into a whole different gear. I was in the middle of a contraction, and all of a sudden, completely involuntarily, my back curled up like a cat and I was bearing down. I managed to tell Kelly, “Urge to push! Urge to push!” We had no idea what my cervix was like since I had so tactfully dismissed the nurse’s requests to check it. So to be on the safe side, I really needed to resist that urge to push until she came back. When you’re in childbirth class and they tell you to “blow out the candle” when you’re trying not push, I just don’t think it’s possible to convey what a monumental a task that is. It’s like trying not to sneeze with a feather in your face, only 10 times stronger. But for the most part, we managed. We finally got the nurse back to the room, and I still don’t think she really checked me because my baby’s head was already in the birth canal. That’s usually a good sign that your cervix is open. Wow, the relief! I got to push through the second half of that contraction, and then I got a break. Everyone around me was scrambling, I think; I had only been in the room about 30 minutes, and they were trying frantically to get my doctor in the room. But I was in another place. I was vaguely aware of all that going on around me, but my task was inside my own body. I knew it was doing its job, everything was going to be fine, and wow, it was already almost over. I was tired and ready to have a break, but I was not afraid.

My doctor made it just in time. The baby was crowning. My body pushed her head out with very little active effort from me. One more contraction and we had her shoulders out – she was born! Praise God! I had done it! I cannot describe what an amazing, exhilarating feeling I had right then. Up until that very moment, I still felt just a bit of nagging uncertainty. What if something went wrong? What if I needed an emergency C-section? What if I just got tired and discouraged, or I didn’t stand up for the kind of birth I wanted, and I accepted unnecessary interventions? What if it went like last time? But in that moment when she was born, when I gave birth to my baby, all those little what-ifs popped like bubbles all around me and I was left with exceeding joy and accomplishment. And then, as if that weren’t enough, I turned over and they handed me my baby. I held her close against my chest, skin to skin. She was sooooo soft. I nuzzled my mouth and cheek against the top of her fuzzy little head, and she snuggled into me. She started rooting, so I helped her find my breast. She latched on easily, and we were nursing! Soon I had another contraction, and I gently pushed my placenta out. Dr. Stone stitched up a small laceration while my baby and I cuddled. For several hours I just felt warm and fuzzy and wonderfully happy.

Altogether, my labor was about six and a half hours. I stayed in the bed afterwards and rested with my baby, ate a big breakfast, and took a shower. By the time all the family arrived, I was fresh and clean and moving around. My recovery was so much easier the second time – no swelling from IV fluids, far fewer stitches, no narcotic pain medication (or its side effects), and less muscle stiffness thanks to my mobility. But by far the best thing about my recovery was the emotional high. My body created its own pain relief with oxytocin and endorphins (and no medicine interfered with that process), I was in a natural state of euphoria that carried me all the way through the postpartum period. I was emotionally healthier after my second birth, in large part due to its being a totally natural labor. I had done it. I carried the art of natural birth through to another generation. And I was finally content.
~Jennifer

Gentle Childbirth Services