I have this idea that we dont REALLY know normal birth because most birth processes are influenced by those present and what they and the mother believe about birth. A lovely friend of mine who lives outside the U.S. had her baby a few weeks back. She had an unhindered and freebirth (no other attendant) and shared her story about her experience. I am offering it with her permission in the hope that we can begin to trust birth more and stop interpreting birth for a mother, thus influencing outcome and so that we may see more truly normal and natural birth processes and understand more about how our own ideas do influence others births. We need to change the narrative of birth-- that is, the story-telling that we do about it. Heres the story: The Freebirth of Amira Zia Ruth March 6, 2014 at 1:35pm Amira’s Birth Story Background/Pregnancy: The story needs a little background first, to bring everything into perspective. My first child, Dylan, was born in a homebirth with a midwife in Oregon, shortly before we moved to Germany. This second one, very much wanted, took a long time to conceive and was preceded by a miscarriage 6 months prior. My first pregnancy was easy with only minor morning sickness in the first trimester, but this pregnancy was much harder with much more severe morning sickness starting at 5 weeks and progressing into Hyperemesis which lasted past 20 weeks. I had a brief time between the Hyperemesis phasing away before the pelvic pain (SPD) set in. I couldn’t do all the physical activities I normally do and had been able to continue in my first pregnancy. I had expected that this pregnancy would be no different. It was a valuable lesson in acceptance and learning that there are some things you just cannot control. With Dylan, I had weeks of prodromal labor before birth began. My water broke in the morning 3 days past my “due date” and light contractions started two hours later, progressing gradually through the day, and Dylan was born at 11:30 pm. He was a face presentation and in spite of him weighing only 7 lbs, 14 oz, I had second degree perineal tearing from the face presentation. By many standards, it was a good birth, but at the same time it was a very hard birth. I am grateful that he was born at home. My midwife was very hands-off and I enjoyed experiencing the midwifery model of care firsthand. However, I passed out when I tried to get up from the toilet, about an hour after the birth. The midwife and her assistant were there quickly to revive me and reassure us that this is, although not altogether not common, completely within the range of normal and not cause for concern. It did, however, scare my husband quite a bit. One consolation was that she told me the next birth would likely be faster and easier, and I held on to this like a small child clings to a security blanket. I had a superb postpartum - felt great and had a quick recovery. Overall, the whole experience was very empowering and gave me the courage to embrace motherhood with fierce passion. I went into this pregnancy and birth hoping to find ways to avoid the things that detracted from that birth: the unfortunate presentation, the long/hard second stage, the second-degree tears, and the passing out. I spent time researching each of these so that I could both dispel any residual fear they had left behind, as well as find out how to prevent these from recurring, if possible. Because I am a midwifery student with AAMI, I have access to conference call lectures and information that perhaps the average mom doesn’t have access to. I already had started from a viewpoint that birth was inherently not dangerous, but the more I learned, the more I understood why it was not dangerous, in spite of cultural conditioning at every turn that tells us otherwise. I spent the tail end of this pregnancy talking a lot to baby and about her birth, emphasizing that I trust she knows the best way to be born for her, but in that same vein, also requesting that she try to facilitate an easier birth for both of us with an anterior presentation, etc. I also spent a lot of time meditating, visualizing, listening to Hypnobabies (which I had to abandon a few weeks before she was born because it made me agitated, oddly enough), and exploring my deepest feelings and needs surrounding this birth via birth art. Through the whole process, I felt guided by this baby. She had her own ideas about how to go about this, and I had to stay open and receptive to her input while, at the same time, respecting my own intuition and feelings. I didn’t go into this pregnancy intending to have an unassisted birth. I had nothing against unassisted births, and I had many friends who had birthed unassisted multiple times, but I thought… I have good access to good midwives so I should make use of that. Besides, it was quite a journey to get my husband to the point where he was behind a homebirth with Dylan. I didn’t think traveling the additional distance for him to be comfortable with an unassisted birth was going to be possible. I hired a midwife, initially grateful for Germany’s wide availability and acceptance of midwifery care and intended to have her there for the birth, but as I explored more and more about what unique needs I and this baby had for this birth, it became more and more glaringly apparent that I was strongly pulled to birth this baby in seclusion and privacy. That was the underlying theme in all dreams I had, as well as any birth art I created. Through the process of my pregnancy, I became more and more disillusioned about the state of midwifery in Germany and realized that midwives (and therefore women) were sadly at the mercy of an over-regulated system which ultimately drastically limited women’s choices in childbirth. I liked my midwife a lot (we connected very well), but the sad fact is that her hands were tied in a number of circumstances and this restricted how I, as a woman, could manage my pregnancy and birth my baby. And this wasn’t okay with me. Several encounters forced me to broach the subject of unassisted birth, as a last resort option, with my husband, earlier in the pregnancy. This was a pretty radical idea to him, but he was open to its possibility, should the choice be to birth unassisted or be forced to go to the hospital. The subject was revisited with increasing frequency as we progressed through the pregnancy, and eventually I felt strongly, and with calm resolution, that this was the only path with which I felt comfortable. And for my husband, he grew increasingly more comfortable in his trust of my ability to make the best decision for me and this baby. When the ultimate decision was made to birth unassisted, the sense of peace that overcame me confirmed that this was the best decision for us. However, unassisted birth, while not outright illegal here in Germany, is at the least, in a grey area of legality, and enough people instilled in me a caution to keep our plans quiet. I never told my midwife of our plans, and all along planned to call her after the birth and claim it was precipitous. For me a huge factor was that I kept feeling that the presence of ANYONE outside of our closest family would be an intrusion. The more I studied birth physiology, the more I learned that science backed up this feeling I had and the more it validated my belief that the first “intervention” is inviting anyone else into my birthing space. This may or may not be true for someone else, but for me, it became glaringly apparent that this is what I needed to birth in peace and safety. Because I am a midwifery student, I used the time of my pregnancy to study possible complications and their remedies, but the more I studied, the more I realized that the first remedy would be prevention, and the best prevention I could do would be to not bring someone into my birthing space who would disrupt the vital and fragile flow of intuition and hormones. It became apparent to me that even having someone (even helpfully) talking to me or touching me in a way they felt was supportive but took me out of my space, suggesting a different position than the one that I had felt drawn to intuitively, or discouraging me from doing something that I was doing intuitively could possibly be dangerous. I learned that listening to and trusting our intuition is likely the most important factor in keeping birth safe, and I just did not want to risk doing anything that could interfere with that process. I should backtrack a bit… I have a very rare blood and antibody type situation which complicated the management of my first pregnancy. Until, that is, I switched from the High-Risk Perinatologist to a homebirth midwife. For the sake of brevity, I won’t go into the specifics around this, except where it impacted my decision-making process regarding this second birth. Because of this extremely rare blood type antibody, I cannot get blood transfusions. Therefore, in the event of a severe hemorrhage, I cannot get what would perhaps be a life-saving blood transfusion. It made absolute sense to me, then, to do everything possible to prevent such a situation from happening. And I went into my midwifery studies with this always in the back of my mind. I learned about physiological birth and its inherent safety mechanisms. I learned that the best way to prevent postpartum hemorrhage was to not interfere with the process and to do everything possible to protect the crucial flow of hormones inherent in the design. In the end, this corroborated my decision to birth unassisted. For me, it was the safest way to birth and the safest way to prevent postpartum hemorrhage. Starting at the full moon when I was 37 weeks, the prodromal labor descended. I had commented to a friend that I was surprised I had had no prodromal labor activity yet, and that was like the invitation it needed and what do you know… the next night I had the first of what would be 4 weeks of on and off prodromal labor. I was initially a bit worried that this would mean baby would come soon, but since the pattern showed that I would have a few days of strong prodromal activity followed by a few days of quiet, I quickly relaxed into just allowing it to do whatever it was going to do, and trusting the wisdom of the process. I know a lot of women complain about prodromal labor, either wishing it would go away completely or trying to push it into turning into real, active labor. And from the advice I received on Facebook, it appears that quite a few people view prodromal labor as something to “fix” or avoid, but I don’t share this viewpoint. I enjoyed it, the discomfort it brought oftentimes, aside. It was reassuring to me to feel my body doing work to prepare for the birth, and I welcomed each episode without any expectation or need for it to turn into more. The last few weeks of my pregnancy were my best. I was big and uncomfortable. I had trouble sleeping. My back hurt. I couldn’t move easily. But I finally felt at peace. A great reason for that, I am sure, is because we had finally made our decision to birth unassisted. And I finally felt beautiful, with my ripe as a swollen fruit, big round belly ready to birth any day. I was actually delighted when I passed the time I had given birth with Dylan, entering uncharted territory as far as length of gestation. As I approached 41 weeks, I mentioned to a few people, including my midwife, that I was fine with going even a few more weeks, to everyone’s shock and horror. And I joked that perhaps I would stay pregnant until Christmas, not even in a pessimistic, disgruntled sort of way, but in a tone and attitude of acceptance. I really did trust the process and was fine with giving baby all the time she needed to be born. Meanwhile I continued to spend time visualizing the kind of birth I wanted. It almost always was quick and was always in privacy, either by myself completely or with my husband quietly nearby. I had several friends who had had fast births, and I remember stating repeatedly that that is what I wanted. I didn’t realize that, by just wishing for it, I might get that! The Birth: A few days of my 41st week, I had a couple of days of emotional turmoil, and I suspected that was the emotional surge before the birth. The day before, which was 40 weeks + 6 days, I felt fabulous on all levels. I was overcome with a need to bake. I had been cooking freezer meals for the postpartum period, for several weeks, but none of that came out of a desire to cook/bake, more out of a known need to make food to eat later. But on this particular day, I wanted to cook, and in particular, to bake. As I was pulling cookies out of the oven, I recalled a friend who had baked furiously the day before her son was born, and wondered if this was my version of nesting. I had had prodromal contractions the previous night and all through the day, but nothing strong. Just consistently coming. Rather than get excited about them, however, I did my best to ignore them. I knew better than to waste my energy getting excited about something that may, or may not, develop into the big show. Regardless, there was little I could do (nor would I if I could) to influence that, so I just ignored them and went on with my day. As we sat down to dinner, I noticed that they were continuing on and perhaps even a little stronger, and I wondered if this was going to be it. I made a mental note to go to bed soon so I could get as much rest as possible, just in case. My son fell asleep on the couch while we were watching a show on TV, and I asked my husband to refill the air in the birth pool (it had been set up for awhile, but it was losing air) before we went to bed, just in case we needed it, before we brought him up to bed (since the air pump is rather loud). I was feeling quite crampy (which wasn’t really new) so I took a bath, and even lit the candles in my bathroom. I had been taking frequent baths to soothe the pelvic and back pain, but this was the only night I lit my candles. I brought my iPod in with me with the intention of listening to my birth music, but instead I talked quietly to the baby about her soon-to-be emergence. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be in the bathtub anymore, so I got out and went to bed, and was able to easily fall asleep. As had been normal for me for months now, I got up every 30-45 minutes to pee, but I was also being woken up by the occasional contraction. This wasn’t new. I had had many nights like that, but I did notice that the stronger ones were getting a little stronger and there were less of the milder ones. Finally I got up at 4:00am, realizing that, yes indeed… I think this might be it. I went downstairs and got on Facebook to chat with some friends, and I decided it was time to tell everyone to light their candles. But because I was still, at that point, able to type, laugh, and sit normally through contractions, I told everyone that I thought this was going to go slowly and I would update as I still felt up to it. At 5:00am, my son woke up, realizing I wasn’t in bed and cried for me, so I returned upstairs, figuring I may as well sleep a little more while I still could. As I climbed the stairs, I was gripped by a much stronger contraction, and I mentally prepared myself for what I thought would be a long road ahead. I laid back in bed with my son, but after half an hour, I determined that the new contractions were not going to let me sleep, so I got up to take a shower and do my hair and makeup. I had loose stools with each contraction, so I spent every contraction on the toilet, and then afterwards resumed what I was doing. I puttered around, cleaning a few things up, putting away laundry, etc. My husband and I were undecided on whether to send our son to Kindergarten, but at around 7:30 when he came into the bathroom and asked me if he could go, I asked him if he wanted to, and he said yes, so I told him to tell his Dad to get him ready. I had a hard time holding much of a conversation, and was glad when he left the bathroom so I could get through the next contraction without him there. Thomas came upstairs to get Dylan dressed, but Dylan was extremely uncooperative, crying that he wanted me to get him dressed. I remember working through some increasingly VERY intense contractions as I listened to them war with each other on the getting dressed issue, wishing I could go intervene, but being completely unable to. As Thomas came in the bathroom to get Dylan’s toothbrush, I remember feeling soooo unbelievably hot and telling him so. I should have realized from that how far into it I was, but I didn’t. I thought I had many hours to go at that point. The next few contractions I felt pushy at the end, and I thought, “That can’t be right. No, no… it must be the diarrhea.” It was at that point, though, that I started to realize this could happen faster than I had thought, so as they were about to leave (about 7:45), I called downstairs to Thomas and told him to hurry back and not to linger at the Kindergarten. In between contractions I was still walking and pacing around. During contractions I was either on the toilet or standing in front of the toilet, hanging onto the door with one hand and a towel on a towel rack with the other. I was completely aware and present. I consciously opened my body to the contractions, rather than bracing against them… inviting the baby down through my body. And I found that smiling at the peak of the contraction, even if it was a completely fake smile, lessened the perceived pain exponentially. Whereas I had vocalized loudly with Dylan’s birth, I stayed silent through these contractions. I had a contraction where I felt even stronger sensation to push and I decided to check myself, even though I had had NO intention of doing any cervical checks during this birth. I felt inside and could feel that I was maybe 4cm dilated and I could feel a little bit of the bag bulging through and the baby’s head right behind that. So with that, I thought, “yes, I have a lot of time to go. I need to pace myself through these,” and I walked to the bedroom to check the time. It was 7:50am. I barely made it back to the bathroom in time for the next contraction in which I sat on the toilet because I had more diarrhea. I thought, “yes, the pushiness is from the diarrhea,” but at the tail end of that contraction, my body involuntarily pushed so strong. I had no control over it whatsoever, and was completely shocked and overtaken by it. In that push, I felt the head descend past my cervix and into the birth canal. Simultaneously, I felt the baby push with her legs. She was pushing herself out. I thought, “What the hell?!” and I felt inside again, and sure enough… I felt no cervix at all and I could feel only the baby’s head. My water must have broken in that contraction, because I felt no bulging bag anymore. In probably 2 minutes, I went from about 4cm to complete. Just goes to show, numbers mean nothing. I realized then that this was happening here and now, and I thought… I need to get in the bathtub to reduce perineal tearing (I really did not want a repeat tear of my last birth if I could help it), so I got up off the toilet and took one step. Only one step. And I was overtaken with another contraction in which my body took over. I was merely a spectator as my body pushed the head all the way down and crowning. I tried to ease it, applying support with my hand. Completely overcome with adrenaline, I talked to baby, saying, “easy, easy, take it easy, not so fast, ease yourself out.” There was a significant pause between that contraction and the next one. I used that time to ease the edges where the head was pulling against my perineum. It is an amazing thing, to have your baby half inside of you and half outside in the world. I felt around the head and could feel the face towards my spine and I whispered gratitude towards the baby for being so smart to be born this way. It was like time ticked by, but it stood still at the same time. I was in the moment. Just experiencing my baby being born. No other thoughts occupied me. I had no fear and although completely filled with adrenaline, I was calm and sure of what I was doing. As I felt the next contraction come, I felt the head emerge completely, the shoulders rotate and one shoulder and arm slip through before the rest of her body slithered out into my waiting hands. There was a gush of amniotic fluid which followed her body and I slipped down onto my knees and elbows on the slippery, wet floor. I turned her over, she was already pinking up and sputtering, breathing. I pulled a towel underneath me and sat down, talking to her. The first thing I said, with absolute exhilaration and triumph was, “We did it! WE DID IT!” I felt strongly that this birth was a joint venture between the two of us and together we did this. I brought her to me, wet and slippery, and kissed her on her head. But I didn’t yet know if she was a she or a he. So I peeked down and… yes, sure enough, just as I had felt all through this pregnancy… a girl. A girl!!!!! For the next ten minutes, I marvelled at her, and talked to her and thanked her for joining us. One or two minutes after she emerged, there was a small gush of blood and I peeked down to eyeball the amount. It was minimal. I knew this was the release of the placenta and everything looked good. I was on top of the world! When I heard my husband arrive back home, I called down to him to come on up, and to bring the camera. I thought he would get the message with that because my voice was not struggling as though I was in the middle of contractions, but he didn’t. He replied, “yeah, yeah” and I could hear him taking his time as he came upstairs. As he came into the bathroom, I am sure he was shocked to see a baby in my arms. I don’t even remember what he said. I noticed he had the wrong camera. He had brought the video camera up and I told him to get the SLR. He ran downstairs and grabbed it and came back up with it, and I asked him to take a few photos which he did as we shared our joy and excitement. I asked him what time it was. It was 8:10, so I estimate the baby was born at about 8:00am. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and we marvelled at her and enjoyed these precious few moments together. Then I asked him to go downstairs and get the midwife’s phone number so we could call her. I figured we had better at least act like we had intended her to be there. I had him hand me the phone so I could tell her that it was just simply very fast and took us by surprise. She hurried over and was there in probably 10 minutes. She immediately remarked on what a big baby she was. She was thrilled for us and ecstatic that it had gone so well. She and Thomas helped transfer me to the bedroom and got me settled comfortably into bed. I squatted to birth the placenta and we checked it over. It was a healthy happy placenta, and I quietly thanked this beautiful organ for taking such good care of her even when I was so sick. The next few hours went by quietly and too fast. Before I knew it, our friend was bringing Dylan home from Kindergarten. He walked hesitatingly into the bedroom and over to the bedside, peering at her with big eyes. He asked, “that is my sister?” Yes, Dylan, meet your sister. He smiled, touched her gently, and had a big smile on his face. Proud big brother! I spent the next hours and days on the biggest birth high. I have never had a more amazing, exhilarating experience in my life. I wish the same for any woman who wants to own her birth. I kept her skin-to-skin for the first several days, and in fact didn’t even put her in a diaper for a few days. The midwife never questioned me on the specifics. I don’t know if she realized or not that I intended it that way. Perhaps she did, either consciously or subconsciously, and perhaps this is why she didn’t press me. She seemed to be sincerely happy for us that it went so beautifully, and she told all of her other moms about me. I kept thinking, “if they only knew that I planned it that way!” I spent the pregnancy willing it to be a precipitous birth. I never actually thought I would get one, just by simply wanting one. I really thought it would be 5 or so hours long, even with all the work that the prodromal labor had done. I spent a lot of time visualizing and dreaming about giving birth alone, but I never thought it would actually happen that way. I am not at all unhappy that it did. I am only a little bit sad for my husband that he missed his daughter being born, but I am at peace with it, too. We did a Partial Lotus Birth where we left the placenta attached until 7:00pm that evening, so it had been left intact for 11 hours. Our original intention had been to leave it for about 5 hours, but when 5 hours rolled around, that felt too short. As it was, even 11 hours felt short. The only downside was that keeping the placenta in a bowl next to baby made maneuvering around a little more complicated. We severed the cord via cord-burning, in which Thomas and I each held a taper candle and burnt the cord, holding it over a bowl to catch the dripping wax from the candles. It took about 15-20 minutes for the cord to burn through. I am really glad we chose this approach, because it provided me a thoughtful quiet time to reflect on what an important connection the baby had to the placenta, which sustained her for so beautifully throughout her gestation. Personally, I enjoyed the ceremonial aspect of the cord-burning. We then cut a little piece off of the placenta and placed it in a tincture bottle to be sent off and prepared as a Homeopathic preparation, which is an option offered here in Germany. The rest of the placenta went into my freezer, so I can decide at a later time whether to encapsulate it myself or plant it in my garden. I have taken several weeks to write this birth story, adding more to it every few days as more thoughts make themselves known. I feel like a different person, in some ways, than the person I was a week before. I trusted and believed in birth before, but now I know it on a deep level. Birth works. It really really works. It is an ingenious design, and if we just get out of the way and let it work, it is amazing. This is now a TRUTH I know on every level, and I only wish that all other women could *know* this and experience such an intensely profound birth as this. Thank you, Shana, for giving permission for me to share your story
Posted on: Fri, 07 Mar 2014 12:39:17 +0000
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