unassisted: without a professional present
VBAC: Vaginal birth after c-section
A month or two ago we were all sitting around a small fire after a leisurely dinner outside at our picnic table. Somehow the topic of the similarities between drug induced highs, mania (which would be classified as an undesirable "illness" state) and spiritual highs came up. I pointed out the example of Peace Pilgrim a woman who in her sixties abruptly began walking around the country with nothing but a comb and an extra pair of socks. She claims to have not needed rest and she went long periods without food. She took risks without a second thought taking rides and sleeping space and meals from strangers she met along the way and hiking the Appalachian trail alone with no gear and only canvas flats on her feet. A doctor may have seen her as having a manic episode but she believed that a higher power gave her endless energy and protected her from harm.
VBAC: Vaginal birth after c-section
A month or two ago we were all sitting around a small fire after a leisurely dinner outside at our picnic table. Somehow the topic of the similarities between drug induced highs, mania (which would be classified as an undesirable "illness" state) and spiritual highs came up. I pointed out the example of Peace Pilgrim a woman who in her sixties abruptly began walking around the country with nothing but a comb and an extra pair of socks. She claims to have not needed rest and she went long periods without food. She took risks without a second thought taking rides and sleeping space and meals from strangers she met along the way and hiking the Appalachian trail alone with no gear and only canvas flats on her feet. A doctor may have seen her as having a manic episode but she believed that a higher power gave her endless energy and protected her from harm.
We were mostly in agreement but Josh called me out for over simplifying things; "You know," he said "you keep saying 'spiritual experiences' to describe these states but not all spiritual experiences are ecstatic. I've had important spiritual and religious experiences which were terrifying." Of course he was right. Just like not all trips are "good trips" and manic episodes aren't always a blast. I was reminded of being told once of "bad trips" that when you use a psychedelic drug you have "the trip you need to have" and sometimes it's unpleasant yet it's not bad because you are forced to face your fears or accept your smallness in the vast scheme of things and you grow as a person.
As I have written in this blog in the past, the loss of ego that occurs during pregnancy is an ecstatic experience for me and that is what I expected for Wren's birth. I saw myself as turning my body over to nature, becoming animal and losing myself mystically, orgasmically maybe even. Apparently though that wasn't the trip I needed to have.
oh...the reading.
After Josh and I decided to have our second child at home without a professional present and do our own prenatal care, I spent over a year preparing mentally and emotionally. I read probably two dozen books on natural childbirth, I read midwifery manuals, I watched birth videos, I read birth stories, I listened to hours and hours of podcasts and most importantly I wrote and made art and meditated to help dissolve my fears and distrust about my broken body (my first child was born by emergency c-section) and birth itself. By the time my due date came around I felt prepared and a half at least and I really felt I could enter labor-land without fear. I watched in joyful anticipation out of our kitchen windows as mothers raised baby bunnies, red squirrels and a cardinal couple sat on their nest.
On June 19th at 5:30am I woke up with contractions that were too heavy to sleep through. I was so excited - "Today is the day!!" I told Wren patting her affectionately. I stayed very active all day to keep them coming on strong and by late afternoon the contractions were stronger (read as: more painful) than they had ever been with Corina's labor. I figured this was an excellent sign yet then as I timed my contractions I realized they were pretty irregular. "This isn't right." I thought "This really hurts already and if my contractions aren't regular then that means I'm not even really in labor yet...plus it's not supposed to hurt." I checked my cervix and couldn't even reach it. I had read that if your cervix is unreachable you've got a long way to go before labor even begins... No. How could this be? I was already swaying and moaning in pain with each one.
Some how I kept heart as it went on the same way all night long. I was thinking "First stage of labor should be so many hours...contractions so far apart....lasting this long. Oh no. I'm not even in labor." Then the contraction would hit and I would think "I'M IN LABOR!!! THIS HURTS TOO BAD TO NOT BE LABOR!!" then it would end and once again I would think "This can't be it. This isn't what it's supposed to be like. I can't keep on like this forever if it's not leading to the baby coming out!"
I was thinking about all those damn youtube videos I had watched with the women so calmly enjoying their contractions swaying like a dancer in their beautiful plant filled home or flowery garden...wonderful five hour labors with orgasms at the end and gorgeous, quiet and affectionate friends and sisters waiting on her hand and foot and lovely children massaging her and giving her flowers and sips of juice. Here I was having a labor break all the rules, doubting my body, having real actual pain, not eating or drinking and listening to my toddler throw massive fits in the hallway.
I was thinking about all those damn youtube videos I had watched with the women so calmly enjoying their contractions swaying like a dancer in their beautiful plant filled home or flowery garden...wonderful five hour labors with orgasms at the end and gorgeous, quiet and affectionate friends and sisters waiting on her hand and foot and lovely children massaging her and giving her flowers and sips of juice. Here I was having a labor break all the rules, doubting my body, having real actual pain, not eating or drinking and listening to my toddler throw massive fits in the hallway.
The next morning I was reflecting on reading that it is very common for humans to go into labor in the evening and that in many primitive societies if the baby wasn't born by late morning they considered the child and mother to likely be approaching their doom. Doom. I had read that I needed to eat during labor or I wouldn't make it through so I forced down some toast. Contraction hit. Spit. "If I don't spit it out I'm going to choke!" I thought. Labor continued to be very painful with stupidly irregular contractions and I continued to not be able to reach my cervix. I decided then that I was through timing the contractions and that afternoon I began to accept the fact that labor was probably going to go on forever. Fuck the clock. Burn all the clocks.
I asked Josh to whisper in my ear stories about what all our friends and family members were doing at that very moment even if it was totally made up. I swayed in his arms and was comforted by the thought of Tenley watering her houseplants, Salem helping someone put wood chips in their cart at work and my sister cooking eggs for her kids. I was frightened to really feel that this moment and my baby, labor and I were all that existed even though my body was trying so hard to get me to that mental place.
I couldn't have asked for a more perfect partner through this. Josh was absolutely calm, totally patient and helpful to me without being bossy or domineering. He's a lot better than me at staying with a difficult feeling or moment without feeling a need to resist or avoid it and his presence helped me so much.
I asked Josh to whisper in my ear stories about what all our friends and family members were doing at that very moment even if it was totally made up. I swayed in his arms and was comforted by the thought of Tenley watering her houseplants, Salem helping someone put wood chips in their cart at work and my sister cooking eggs for her kids. I was frightened to really feel that this moment and my baby, labor and I were all that existed even though my body was trying so hard to get me to that mental place.
I couldn't have asked for a more perfect partner through this. Josh was absolutely calm, totally patient and helpful to me without being bossy or domineering. He's a lot better than me at staying with a difficult feeling or moment without feeling a need to resist or avoid it and his presence helped me so much.
That night it was still going on just the same. Contractions lasting anywhere from 20 seconds to 90 seconds and at intervals anywhere between a minute and 10 minutes. Josh and I decided he should get some sleep and I moved my camp to our stage in the front of our house where we used to have punk & indie bands play...I became more and more delirious. I watched our neighbor across the street sitting and drinking beer on his porch until late into the night. Time stood still and I could feel two forces battling within me. My ego, my personality, my intellect self against my spirit, wild, animal self and slowly but surely the latter one was winning out for longer and longer periods. My vocalizations became lower and lower and by 2am I was involuntarily bearing down hard with each contraction. I would sleep in an antique chair given to us by Josh Kirtley for a few minutes and then a contraction would hit and I would jump up and push hard and moan low during it even though I really really didn't want to push. "No! No! You aren't supposed to have to push. It's supposed to be gentle! She's supposed to slide out softly and easily when everything is ready! You are going to hurt yourself!" My intellect self was screaming at me that I wasn't in labor and my cervix was still closed while my wild self was going on ahead and bearing down as hard as she could. I was losing control over my body and I was scared of that.
I checked myself again and I felt a rock hard bulge. I thought that it was my cervix and that it had become so swollen from pushing with it closed that it was hardened; looking back I realize now it was probably Wren's little head starting to mold into my mostly open cervix! I figured I had a long, long way to go still and I was starting to wonder how on earth I would make it the rest of the way. I continued to sleep in the chair and jump up involuntarily pushing with each contraction. Amniotic fluid started to come out in glugs at every contraction.
My butt felt like it was exploding. My mom wisely pointed out later that my labor was so long and weird because my wonderful body was protecting my c-section scar. If I had attempted a VBAC in the hospital there is no way they would have allowed me to labor in my own way and for so long; I certainly would have wound up with another surgical birth.
My butt felt like it was exploding. My mom wisely pointed out later that my labor was so long and weird because my wonderful body was protecting my c-section scar. If I had attempted a VBAC in the hospital there is no way they would have allowed me to labor in my own way and for so long; I certainly would have wound up with another surgical birth.
Around that time I ate a couple bites and drank some coconut water. I checked myself again and to my great surprise the bag of water was hanging in my vagina! I had a split second of extreme fear that it was actually the placenta or cord coming out before Wren (which is almost certain death). It would be stupid to confuse those things but I was out of it. Josh came out of the bedroom then. My involuntary pushing became way more intense and with each contraction I called out low and loud like a cross between a growl and a moo. I wasn't trying to stop the pushing anymore and suddenly my intellectual self disappeared. I was disinterested in checking the baby's heart rate, I didn't care if the bag of water was actually the placenta or cord coming out, I was pooping, I was peeing and I lost myself completely in the work at hand. There was only one moment and whatever was supposed to happen was happening. The pain was ridiculous but I didn't care much about managing it. I felt stupid for ever checking my cervix or timing anything. All my knowledge did for me was cause fear and stress and probably held up the natural process. It was almost comical at that moment to me even though I was in a crazy amount of pain.
Josh said something about texting to cancel his massage sessions and I said "NO! You'll miss it! NOW!" my pelvis was blooming, my vagina was burning and my self as I knew it was washed away... before I realized what was happening Wren's head was born. I was on my knees, upright between our futon and coffee table with my hands holding on to those on either side. Wren's head was touching my thighs. With the next contraction and involuntary push she slid out easily and I pulled her onto my belly. Josh ran to get Corina. It was 7:30am. Her cord was short and she made some attempts at gasping a big breath. I suctioned her nose and mouth a couple times with my mouth and rubbed her back and she started breathing heartily pretty quick but it took her awhile to give a big cry. I wasn't worried though because she was nice and pink everywhere but her hands.
She looked and felt exactly as I expected. Finally something wasn't a surprise! We had three hours of snuggles and nursing before I went to the hospital to get a ragged tear stitched up. 9 1/2 pounds...for real. Due to Covid restrictions I had to leave Wren and Corina with my parents but I was still so high from the birth that I didn't feel anxious or miss them until we'd been at the hospital for a couple hours. Everyone at St. V's was so cool and supportive, curious and excited. The whole ordeal (albeit painful and difficult) had a celebratory feel. As I got mended it slowly sank in and finally the ecstasy I was expecting hit:
WE DID IT!
After reading how things went down you may think I was disappointed. No. Not even close. I think that I needed it to be challenging. Had I had a youtube worthy hippy birth experience I may have thought I just got lucky. No. We did it. The days after the birth I felt like I was returning from a vision quest or something. My face and eyes especially looked different to me in the mirror; there was a new spark and glow to me that I'd never seen before. I wrote in my last post about expecting to mourn the pregnancy but I didn't this time. I feel as close to Wren as ever (although I have mourned my changing relationships with Corina and Josh).
After Corina and I's "emergency" c-section when I got up to pee for the first time I stood (with great difficulty because the incision was extremely painful) in front of a full length mirror in the hospital bathroom a long time looking at my new body. I felt empty. I felt used up. I felt broken. I felt assaulted. I cried for a long time wishing that Corina was back inside. I hated the way I looked. After Wren's birth I stood in front of the mirror with my shoulders back nice and tall and my body looked so beautiful to me; my body that brought a baby into the world safely even though I have been wounded. To me this is even more empowering than if I'd got it on the first try.
When I got pregnant with Corina I was still filled with fear and distrust of my body after a recent miscarriage. I chose to turn all of my power and responsibility over to a few professional midwives and OB's. I got all the tests, all the ultrasounds, all the exams and throughout I felt violated and pushed into things. At the end of pregnancy a midwife tampered with Corina and I's sac during a cervical check, snagged a hole in the bag of waters and started labor before Corina was ready. She fell into a bad position as the water drained out (face presentation) and was stuck there unable to move downward into the birth canal. I was in labor for over 24 hours. The nurses kept making me lay down in the bed to get monitored every 20 minutes and laying down was scary and painful. Finally her presentation was diagnosed and the OB told me there was no choice but surgery. The anesthesiologist had been called in for a couple other c-sections (in the middle of the night no less) and there were schedules and pay checks to think of.
In both births I lost control. The first time to bureaucracy and technology and the second time to all things still wild & pure in the universe.
For a long time after Corina's birth I carried the narrative with me that the hospital saved her life. It was too painful to acknowledge that they needlessly stole the birth experience from me and put me and my daughter in danger (yes, c-section is more dangerous than vaginal birth). "Good thing I didn't have a home birth, she would have died." I thought. Then I got brave enough to do some reading. I learned that babies in face presentation can be born vaginally, it just takes longer. I learned that I wasn't truly over due when that midwife joggled my waters to start labor and realized that even if I was over due she should not have messed with it without my permission. After that I was angry and depressed about the birth. Then I got brave enough to accept responsibility. The experience wasn't something that was done to me. My fear and distrust and lack of self confidence led me to choose to put myself in a position that allowed for things to play out the way they did. Part of living what you believe is admitting when you have strayed so that you can get back on track.
This time I believed in myself. I really do feel that no one could have brought Wren into this world better than I did. I was made to do this. We were made for each other. The physical and emotional challenge of the birth has led me to feel more sure of myself than ever. The pregnancy and birth were acts of intense physical competence, strength and endurance, complete creative freedom and brilliance and determination and faith. Because my labor broke all the rules I have become a more flexible person and a person who now fully believes that an ounce of faith is more powerful and useful than a ton of knowledge and training. Everything I needed was already within me.
I had the trip that I needed to have and I'm a better human because of it. Thank you Wren.
She looked and felt exactly as I expected. Finally something wasn't a surprise! We had three hours of snuggles and nursing before I went to the hospital to get a ragged tear stitched up. 9 1/2 pounds...for real. Due to Covid restrictions I had to leave Wren and Corina with my parents but I was still so high from the birth that I didn't feel anxious or miss them until we'd been at the hospital for a couple hours. Everyone at St. V's was so cool and supportive, curious and excited. The whole ordeal (albeit painful and difficult) had a celebratory feel. As I got mended it slowly sank in and finally the ecstasy I was expecting hit:
WE DID IT!
wren's zero birthday cake, yeah I'm the lady who made a cake while in labor
hours old!
After reading how things went down you may think I was disappointed. No. Not even close. I think that I needed it to be challenging. Had I had a youtube worthy hippy birth experience I may have thought I just got lucky. No. We did it. The days after the birth I felt like I was returning from a vision quest or something. My face and eyes especially looked different to me in the mirror; there was a new spark and glow to me that I'd never seen before. I wrote in my last post about expecting to mourn the pregnancy but I didn't this time. I feel as close to Wren as ever (although I have mourned my changing relationships with Corina and Josh).
After Corina and I's "emergency" c-section when I got up to pee for the first time I stood (with great difficulty because the incision was extremely painful) in front of a full length mirror in the hospital bathroom a long time looking at my new body. I felt empty. I felt used up. I felt broken. I felt assaulted. I cried for a long time wishing that Corina was back inside. I hated the way I looked. After Wren's birth I stood in front of the mirror with my shoulders back nice and tall and my body looked so beautiful to me; my body that brought a baby into the world safely even though I have been wounded. To me this is even more empowering than if I'd got it on the first try.
weighing daniel tiger
sisters!
In both births I lost control. The first time to bureaucracy and technology and the second time to all things still wild & pure in the universe.
For a long time after Corina's birth I carried the narrative with me that the hospital saved her life. It was too painful to acknowledge that they needlessly stole the birth experience from me and put me and my daughter in danger (yes, c-section is more dangerous than vaginal birth). "Good thing I didn't have a home birth, she would have died." I thought. Then I got brave enough to do some reading. I learned that babies in face presentation can be born vaginally, it just takes longer. I learned that I wasn't truly over due when that midwife joggled my waters to start labor and realized that even if I was over due she should not have messed with it without my permission. After that I was angry and depressed about the birth. Then I got brave enough to accept responsibility. The experience wasn't something that was done to me. My fear and distrust and lack of self confidence led me to choose to put myself in a position that allowed for things to play out the way they did. Part of living what you believe is admitting when you have strayed so that you can get back on track.
This time I believed in myself. I really do feel that no one could have brought Wren into this world better than I did. I was made to do this. We were made for each other. The physical and emotional challenge of the birth has led me to feel more sure of myself than ever. The pregnancy and birth were acts of intense physical competence, strength and endurance, complete creative freedom and brilliance and determination and faith. Because my labor broke all the rules I have become a more flexible person and a person who now fully believes that an ounce of faith is more powerful and useful than a ton of knowledge and training. Everything I needed was already within me.
I had the trip that I needed to have and I'm a better human because of it. Thank you Wren.
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