It is amazing how one experience can set into motion a chain of events that ends up altering the way you view your world.  My home birth was that one monumental experience. I have been a birth & postpartum doula for years and had assisted a midwife for a number of home births, so I have been honored to experience many beautifully moving births. I chose a home birth with my third child for a number of reasons, but I never would have imagined the power behind that choice.

I had been having Braxton Hicks for weeks leading up to my actual labor, some of which had been quite convincing with regular contractions of 5 minutes apart for hours at night. Both of my two oldest boys were born healthy and ready at 37 weeks so I was mentally prepared for the possibility of laboring 3 weeks early.  My friends and family joke that I am a pressure cooker for babies. I knew that my midwife couldn’t attend the birth before 37 weeks so my husband and I had a private celebration when ‘full term‘ came and went.

Just a couple days past 37 weeks, as I was laying with my 3 year old while he was falling asleep, I began getting my normal nightly Braxton Hicks; however, these were accompanied by the telltale immanent labor lower backaches.  I fell asleep that night with a little voice in my head telling me that I was very close to meeting my child.

2am: my eyes opened peacefully and surprisingly rested. I ungracefully rolled my awkward feeling body out of bed with the intention of using the restroom; however, upon standing warm liquid began running down my leg. It was then that I had my first real contraction.  At that point my excitement had me floating down the stairs with a towel between my legs to rest by myself on the couch to time my contractions. There was something magical about being the only person, other than the baby, to know that this beautifully natural, powerful & magical event was happening.  I reveled in private anticipation for an hour until my contractions were about 3 minutes apart and getting stronger.

3am: I ascended the stairs for the last time pregnant to wake my husband and call my midwife and mother. My plan had been to meditate my way through labor in my meditation room adjacent to my bedroom. Upon calling my midwife, she was concerned that since my second child was born in only 6 hours and that my contractions were so close, I should lay on my bed and wait for her to arrive. Laying down magnified the pain but I listened and waited. She arrived within 20 minutes, at which time I thankfully climbed out of bed to labor in the manner in which I had dreamed for the last 9 months.

3:30am - 7am: I can honestly say that for the next 3 1/2-4 hours the pain was absolutely negligible. I used no standard popular method of pain management... my technique was simple and invaluable. I meditated.  There were not rainbow clouds holding me up, no musical cues or set visualizations.  I merely explored the amazing physical sensations by dropping the label of ‘pain’ and diving deep into the waves that would bring me closer to meeting my baby. I didn’t fight these sensations, I just let them wash over and engulf me while bathing in the beauty and wonder of what my body was doing naturally.  I listened carefully to my inner voice telling when I need to stand, to sway, move on the birthing ball, and when to just laugh.  I was joyful and comfortable in my favorite place, with my favorite music, books, art, beloved cat and surrounded by people who loved me.  It felt like a ceremonial celebration of life, nature and oneness with all women.

7am: I decided it was time to spend some time in the water. I chose to not have a birth pool because I wanted my space to be normal & familiar (for both me and my family). We filled the bathtub to the brim with warm water, I put my earphones in and I retreated back into my mind. I was deep in a powerful meditative state - feeling stoned and trippy from the cocktail of hormones. Time was elusive... irrelevant. I felt a beautiful connection, a dance of sorts, between my body, my mind & the baby. Every now and then I would open my eyes to see my husband or one of my boys checking on me, my mother smiling peacefully, or my midwife kneeling down to check the baby’s heart tones.

8am: I peacefully came out of my to trace to notice one of the midwives asking how I was feeling.  I told her that I didn’t think that I was progressing as I wasn’t feeling any discomfort. I had hoped to be going through transition by now but I couldn’t identity any of the signs that normally accompany transition (nausea, shaking, pain, etc.). She said that I had been laboring so peacefully that she was sure that I was past transition. I decided to have her check me so that I could ascertain whether or not to get out of the bath. To my surprise, I was fully dilated with only a small cervical lip left. I was now alert and ready to take my body’s cue to begin bringing the baby out into the world.

After 2 more strong yet painless contractions in the bathtub, I began to feel the very distinct splitting feeling and with the following contraction, the undeniable urge to push. This shift happened so fast that I became completely out of touch with my meditation and began to feel the pain. It was at this point that my self doubt was awakened by the excruciating pain of separation.

In retrospect, the next 30 minutes were a blur of hormone-drunk pushing followed by waves of welcomed quiet stillness. However, at the time, I distinctly remember being amazed at how calm and peaceful the minutes felt between contractions.  There seemed to be lifetimes to live within those moments.  I don’t believe that there has been a time in my life where I was more present - more in tune with my mental and physical state.  This was much different from my hospital births where I felt detached and out-of-control of my mind and body.

It was within these 30 minutes that, as my baby was being summoned Earthside, I was allowing a part of me to be sacrificed.  Prostrate, I willingly relinquished my grasp on life and passed it on to the being as he moved out of my body.  For the first time in my life, I truly understood what it was like to 'let go' - to have complete faith in myself and the natural process that my body was designed to accomplish.

“Come on mama... reach down to catch your baby.  You have to reach down now to catch him when he comes out.” My midwife knew how badly I wanted to be the first to touch and welcome my baby into the world.

“I can’t.” I moaned.  “I can’t... I can’t...” I felt defeated. I knew that I just needed to get this being out into the world safely whether I survived or not - that was my one and only thought.  Catching him was irrelevant at this point even though it had been my dream.  I was 100% positive that I could not do it. I absolutely wasn’t strong enough.

It was then that, from a place deep inside my womb, with the help of a tiny being who had been instilling life-lessons in me for the past 9 months, my hands reached out and shattered through that wall of self-doubt as I caught my child.

Liam Bodhi was born at 8:32am on March 22nd weighing 7lbs, 3.5oz.

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Upon reflection of this profoundly significant experience in my life, I realized that during birth there is more than just a baby being born.  At some point there is a moment when the mother surrenders herself willingly to the miraculous bearing of her child.  It is this symbolic sacrifice that then allows for the mother to be reborn amidst this birth. This is the empowerment of childbirth.

A woman may enter the realm of childbirth with a self-image tainted with doubt, weakness and selfishness; however, she will come through the experience having shed that thin, useless skin.  This life-altering journey quiets her ego and births both a mother and child.

Liam is now a very healthy 10 month old and I am now studying to become a homebirth Midwife, anxiously awaiting the day that I can assist women through this beautifully transcendent time in their lives.

Every day, animals give birth independently to wonderfully happy perfectly healthy children. In fact, we expect them to be able to do this on their own with little if any help at all and this they do. Yet human women place themselves into the care of doctors and technology on a routine basis in order to give birth and many believe that those very things are necessary to give birth safely. How have we ended up so different from our animal counterparts?

For the longest time, I thought my belief on this point was an oddity, and that I would be ridiculed if I shared it with the people around me. I was surrounded with people who believed that going to the hospital was the only way to give birth period. I wondered, though. I began to read things online about pregnancy and birth. My huge light bulb moment was when I read Laura Shanley’s “Unassisted Childbirth” and realized I was not the only person who thought the way I did.

I believe completely and without doubt, that we create our own realities. I believe that we must learn how to face up to and confront our feelings of fear/guilt/shame and overcome them all until we are steadfast and unshakable in our belief that we are designed perfectly for this labor of love, this glorious act of bringing our children Earth side. Then, and only then, I believe can we give birth as safely and with as little discomfort as our animal counterparts. Our own environments must be as safe and warm to us as theirs’ are when they labor so silently. Our own conscious minds must give way to that sweet and thoughtless primal instinct that knows so much better than our knowledge and logic what must be done to usher in our children gently. I think our birthing environments are as good a place to start as any.

The article that got me started writing this piece (Safer Birth in a Barn by Beth Barbeau) describes witnessing a horse birth her foal. The following things were done so the mare could safely birth her foal: no strangers, dimmed lights, freedom of movement, familiar environment, unlimited nourishment, respectful quiet, no disruptions, and careful observation to determine when, if at all, there was any need for technological expertise to resolve an emergency situation. On the other hand, the birthing experience women face in hospitals tends to include the following: countless strangers passing through a room unfamiliar to the mother, bright lights, noise, interruption, restriction of movement so as to tether women to an EFM and/or IV, a nothing-by-mouth or clear liquids/ice chips only “diet”, the cascade of intervention, and no careful observation. I think by placing ourselves in a “traditional” hospital environment, we put ourselves at a huge disadvantage right at the outset. I’m a huge supporter of home birth with or without assistance as a woman feels is most right for her. In our own homes, we put ourselves on a level field with our animal counterparts. We are in our own familiar environment with the people familiar to us and all the comforts and safety of being on our own turf for such a momentous occasion in our lives.

I also think that society plays a huge role in making our outcomes so much different than those of our animal counterparts. I think it’s important to note that tribal women, and women who live in less technological societies birth much more similarly to animals. Penny Armstrong notes in “A Wise Birth” that:

“Birth (in an Amish community) appeared to be just another animal out in the country. Labors were shorter than I was accustomed to. Pain appeared to be less severe. Cuts and tears fewer. Hemorrhage controllable. Babies did not need my  suctioning devices or my tubes pressed down their throats; they gurgled when they were born and began to breathe. Their mothers took them to their breasts and nursed without much complication. If problems did arise anytime during a birth most of them appeared to resolve themselves in short order.”

I think this is important to note, because here you look at women who live in communities that believe there is no need for technology, and who as a result believe that they are capable of birthing their babies with minimal assistance; I believe it is as a result of this mindset that they have as easy a time of labor as they do. Judith Goldsmith notes in “Childbirth Wisdom from the World’s Oldest Societies” that:

“There were numerous societies where women gave birth with no assistance at all. Among the Chukchee of Siberia where babies were born with little trouble, the birthing woman attended completely to her own needs and those of her newborn infant. . . . The Fulani women of Africa also birthed without expecting any assistance, catching the infant as it was born in her own hands. . . . Among the Maria Gonds of India there are no midwives. It is expected the mother will do everything for herself.”

Aside from the fact that all these women expect to birth without assistance, and subsequently do, there is also the fact that the problems you would expect to exist if it is truly necessary for women to have medical intervention do not exist among these tribal women. Goldsmith goes on to state that while infant mortality rates have been high in some of the cultures she studied the deaths generally occurred during the first year of life due to malnutrition; childbirth itself was rarely fatal to mother or child. Visitors to North America in 1641 noted there was rarely illness or death during or after birth. A physician living with Canadian Indians knew of no deaths from childbirth in the eight years he spent there. Death during childbirth was rarely observed among tribal women in Fiji, Uganda, or Argentina, either.

In fact, it has also been noted that complications with pregnancy are also exceedingly uncommon in tribal societies. Among the Arikara of North Dakota in the 1930s, there was not observed any incidences of ectopic pregnancy, placenta previa, eclampsia or premature birth (except in one case following an accident involving the mother). Ina May Gaskin notes that vomiting during pregnancy is rare among tribal women. In the same observations of all these women, it is noted that complications during pregnancy began to occur and increase if tribal women were exposed to more “progressive” cultures.

So when left to their own devices, we see that tribal women are far closer to having the success in birth that our animal counterparts enjoy which leads us to wonder why western women with medical intervention seem so far from it. Tribal women are generally in better shape and remain active until delivery, and that is certainly to their benefit. Far more important than that, in my opinion, is the fact that they have a completely different mindset. As I mentioned earlier, I believe that we create our own realities with what we expect and what we believe will happen. In animals, there is simply no doubt that they can birth their children because they live in a way that humans do not; operating within and guided solely by their instincts. Tribal women are not as instinctual as animal, but are never taught to doubt their ability to birth their children safely. Without doctors or technology, these tribal women believe beyond doubt that they are made to deliver babies without difficulty and without help and they go on to do so. With doctors and technology, western women are still taught (and choose to believe) that birth is dangerous and any number of things could go wrong in a split second and that they are incapable of delivering their babies safely without help . . . and there we create our own reality as well.

I think when women are given that calm comforting environment that animals are given, with license to do whatever we feel is right, our difficulty in childbirth will decrease significantly. When we can teach future generations, or allow ourselves to truly learn until our belief is steadfast and without doubt, that we are perfectly designed to birth our children safely and with or without assistance, we will take another huge leap forward in allowing childbirth to be the intense but joyous, empowering, life-altering event that it should be for every woman.




Sources:
Armstrong, Penny, and Sheryl Feldman. 1990. A Wise Birth. New York: William Morrow.
Barbeau, Beth. 2007. “Safer Birth in a Barn.” Midwifery Today, no. 83 (Autumn)
Gaskin, Ina May. 1987. “Childbirth the Amish Way.” Mothering, no. 43 (Summer):70-71
Goldsmith, Judith. 1990. Childbirth Wisdom from the World’s Oldest Societies. Brookline, Mass.: East West Health Books.
Shanley, Laura Kaplan. 1994. Unassisted Childbirth. Westport CT: Bergin&Garvey an imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group Inc.