william’s HOMEbirth

Birthing at home: ahhhhh.

Honestly, once the ball started rolling, I was not really even aware of the “strangeness” of what we were doing. It was so completely easy and natural. It was wonderful. I honestly don’t know how I could ever go to a hospital again. Really. The thought makes me want to cry, and I swear it’s not just the hormones.

As labor progressed, not having the decision of when to go to the hospital looming over me was such a relief. There was no pressure at any point to feel like I had to know. It was all so fluid, so go-with-the-flow, just waiting for nature to take its course. Emotionally, being able to just settle back into my couch and not have another thought for what the next moment would, could, or should hold was amazing.

In early labor, when I could still crack jokes between contractions, and when Ryan could still dare to ask things like, “So, does it hurt?,” my mom quietly was lighting candles, making pretty arrangements in the bathroom, on the dresser in my bedroom, in the living room. I suppose you might not actually take note of such things when in the throes of childbirth, but I did. The first time I walked into the bathroom and saw the tea lights reflecting off of crystal, I was overwhelmed by how beautiful everything was. It was my home, the place I work so hard to make lovely. There were no dimmed hospital lights (with a spotlight ready for when the pushing began), no plastic beds and metal bedrails, no clammy tile floors that scream “Industrial!” Small things, yes, things that didn’t faze me last time around, yes — but still. If you could have one or the other?…

It was my home. Ronnie, the midwife, was clearly in charge of managing the birth — but it was my birth. I felt the whole time like I could tell her what I wanted, and that would be that. I could say, “No, I don’t want to be checked, I want to wait until I can’t stand it,” and that was fine. That’s what we did. Granted, it was my second time around, so I was a little less of a rookie, but I felt so much more confident during the second stage of labor than I did with Jameson. Again, just no pressure. Awesome.

When things got intense, guess what? No one was there to strap monitors on me, insist that I change my clothes (what are they thinking???), or ask me to sign paperwork. Need I say more?

And when it was time to push, the midwife suggested what she considers the ideal position for such things, a position that would be impossible at the hospital where Jameson was born. And I have to say, it would seem that she was right. For such an uncomfortable moment in a mother’s life, it was the most comfortable I can imagine. :)

But best, best, best of all was that when little William was at last delivered and set into my arms, and we were helped onto my bed and made comfortable in a nest of my pillows, I was home. That was that!

The care that Ronnie gave me after the birth was stellar. Obviously I can’t vouch for this as an across-the-board homebirth feature, but having one person spend hours with me during lengthy, chatty prenatal visits also attend my birth, doing her best to help me succeed at what she knew my goals were AND care for me for the next hours of recovery was just grand. When Jameson was born, I had very sweet and kind nurses, but, well, I was just another patient who they had to get through their mandated procedures. That meant getting up when their chart said I should, whether or not I almost passed out from sudden loss of blood. (NOT PLEASANT memories.) Ronnie and her assistant were amazingly sensitive to my needs and ready to get as creative as possible in order for me to be comfortable. When they slipped out my front door 7 hours after William was born, I was showered and refreshed and fast asleep on clean sheets in my bed. ahhhh.

William would also like to say that his arrival into this strange, new world was as easy as he could possibly imagine. There were no goopy eye drops, no bizarre hearing tests involving electronic sensors taped to his head, and NO heel pricks that would simply be ruled invalid, anyway. In fact, William probably would say that The World is all peaches and cream, except that he was circumcised this morning. That sort of blew that idyllic illusion. Poor boy.

So, off the top of my head, those are my homebirth thoughts. Do you have any questions, things you wonder, musings to add?

william’s birth

Just the birth — I’ll share my thoughts on the “home” part in another post!

My mom arrived around midnight on the 13th. As she and Ryan walked in the back door, Ryan sighed a relieved sigh and said, “Okay. Now you can have the baby.”

Well, I didn’t. Instead, we took walks, did laundry, chatted over long breakfasts, napped (that was me!), and watched news and movies. I felt refreshed at last, after weeks of exhaustion. Mom is the best.

The 20th was my due date. For days, everywhere we went, women stopped me and asked if I was going to have that baby right there, in the store. Old wives’ tales predicted that I’d go early, since my first was born so punctually. But no. The 20th came, and I woke feeling no different than the previous day. It was Ryan’s birthday, so at the last minute, we invited friends over for dinner and a “party” and went on with our day.

Party having ended, Jameson was prepped for bed. I pulled him up next to me in our armchair, having long abandoned our nighttime tradition of sitting on Mama’s lap. We read a Little Richard story, I kissed him, and he was tucked under the covers.

And I quietly noted that the contractions I’d had while reading felt remarkably… real.

At 10:00 I went to bed, and let my thoughts drift, all the while unable to ignore that I was definitely having contractions that were doing far more than just a little toning. And they were a bit on the regular side. How regular, I wondered?, and so I watched for about 45 minutes.

Sure enough.

When Ry came to bed, I mentioned that I thought maybe this was it. I was so hesitant to say so because a.) I kinda had been hoping I’d start out with an obvious bang (or, rather, splash) and b.) I was worried everyone would get there expecting a 45 minute labor, and end up going home because it was all some cruel hoax.

So I started walking. And they kept coming. I sat on the couch, intending to watch TV and distract myself, but just like with Jameson, within minutes I couldn’t even talk during a contraction. And just like with Jameson, I had myself worried that maybe I was just a real wimp, and maybe this was the lamest contraction ever, and here I was, already closing my eyes and breathing deep and all that.

Regardless, it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Ronnie, my midwife, arrived by 11:45. Our friend Andrea, having been informed of the event, decided to come and watch. Ronnie’s assistant came, introduced herself during one of my respites, and completed the party.

We all settled into a quiet, hushed anticipation.

Mom slipped around the house, lighting candles and beautifying little corners. Ryan stayed near me and held my hand while timing contractions. Everyone else was… huh. I have no idea. All I cared about for the next 4 1/2 hours was having Ryan holding my hand and knowing where my Mom was. Always.

Ryan was phenomenal. Through the night, he kept holding my hand, talking me through every contraction. He’s a quick study, I guess, and having watched Mom once, he was ready to take a shot at it. Twice, Jameson stirred, and Ryan had to go cuddle with him; otherwise, he never left my side.

So I sat on the couch, laid on the couch, and wandered now and then to the bathroom for hours. I tried to not notice that this was clearly not going to be as speedy as labor with Jameson, and tried not to start worrying that maybe I was really in for it. At around 3am, they ushered me onto my bed, which was all prepared and surrounded by candles. Did I mention how pretty and calm everything was? Well, it was.

Soon thereafter, I had the first contraction that brought with it a pushing sensation. However, I was determined that this labor was going to involve far less pushing than Jameson’s, and that I was going to stay on top of the contractions and not go into reactionary mode. Special Delivery talked about not pushing until absolutely carried away by the need to, and I wanted to know what that was all about. So there I lay, on my side, moaning. Ryan held my hands, and my mom laid on the bed behind me, pushing on my back with every contraction. (I have no idea how she kept that up for so long. We’re not talking about a girly massage!)

It was awful. Can I say that? Well, it was. I just kept doing my best to feel what my body was doing, and concentrate on the pressure of my mother’s hands. As long as she was there, I could picture the sensation starting at my head, pushing down through my uterus, and out to where my mom was applying so much pressure. A couple of times she had to get up to help with something, and I felt lost at sea when the pain came. It rode over me, and there was no focal point, no spot for me to relax against. But when she returned, pushing and praying and soothing me, I could do it.

At long last, the midwife suggested I get up and use the bathroom. I’ll confess, these trips to the bathroom in the middle of labor can seem awfully irritating and thoughtless. But then I thought about the reasoning behind it, and knew I had to cooperate. While in the bathroom, I heard my mother and Ronnie conspiring. “She needs to stay upright. She’s ready, but we’ve gotta get her off that bed.” Apparently, my low moaning had given away the baby’s position. Ryan helped me into our bedroom, which is about 3 steps from the bathroom. In that time, I had two contractions while hanging from Ryan’s neck. I’m sure he loved that. ;)

They had arranged a pillow and the necessary floor coverings at the foot of my bed. I had one more contraction standing up, and suddenly I knew what Rahima had been describing. I quickly knelt on the pillow, flopping my upper body on the bed. One more contraction and WHOOSH! — my water broke in a huge gush. It was a strange sensation, to say the least. I rested on the bed, my body in total relaxation, and I heard my mom whisper, “It’s the calm before the storm.” Seconds later, another contraction washed over me, and the head crowned. Intense would be a good word for the following minute, while my body went into adrenaline mode, the midwife and my mother cried, “Stop pushing! Don’t push!”, and the ring of fire blew my mind. Another contraction, and (a little late, I confess) I asked, “Can I push now?”. And his head came. Another, and his whole body. And I collapsed on my knees, head on the bed, completely and utterly drained.

“It’s a boy!”, I heard Ryan jubilantly say. I knew it, I thought. And then he was passed up to me, and quivering, I gripped the slippery body of a new son.

The next morning, waking in my own bed with my new baby asleep beside me, I was flooded with thanksgiving. I’d prayed for a short and safe labor; for Jameson to sleep through it; for effective pushing; for little to no tearing; to feel less like a truck had hit me; and for a faster recovery. All of those things happened. And above all, a sweet and healthy baby (who already weighs 9 lbs! The boy nursed like a pro from the get-go!)

I am blessed, blessed, blessed.

three things.

I’m working on posts about my new sweet William, who is currently asleep on my chest. Mmm, I am loving the smell of new baby! I’ve taken some more pictures and will get them posted, too. Because you just have to see this little miracle of ours! For now, don’t mind a cut-to-the-chase post on the upcoming election. Two weeks out, it’s time to stay fervent and prayerful.

One, regarding voting for a third party in this upcoming election:

(I know you’ve all at least read snippets of this post. Humor me while I once again submit a portion for perusal.)

I sympathize with wanting to send a message to the Republican Party. I have done this both in state elections and once on the presidential level. One year I wrote in a third party candidate Alan Keyes, an African American who has boldly stood up for unborn children. There is a time to do this.

But is this the time, when failing to vote for McCain could ultimately remove hundreds of laws limiting abortion at the statewide level—informed consent and parental consent and late term abortion measures? As a physician commenting on my last blog said, prolife physicians and nurses and hospitals could find themselves with a federal mandate to perform abortions, and lose their licenses if they refuse. The Freedom of Choice Act, which Obama promised Planned Parenthood he will sign if elected president (my previous blog has this on video), could ultimately do all this and more. It may also make life very difficult for Pregnancy Resource Centers.

Two, regarding voting for Obama:

(This is a post written by my husband. It’s black and white. I’d apologize for the lack of gray, but you know, the more I think about this, the less gray I see.)

I am appalled to hear that some Christians’ are supporting Barack Obama; such behavior will be judged—this is my only consolation.

We live in the greatest nation on earth and it is great for a plethora of reasons. And no reason is more supreme than that we are a “government of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Likely human history has never witnessed another earthly institution of its kind, equipping her people with innate respect, dignity, trust, and equality, by simply allowing them the opportunity to rule themselves. Yes at its fundamental core, the right to vote holds with it the ability to secure our freedom or reap the gravest of destruction.

As such then, by citizenship, we inherit the terrible and high responsibility to lead this nation and her people, together. And while many may abdicate such an awesome burden, we will never be free from accountability to God in this regard. Make no mistake: it is God Himself who has called us to leadership within this Republic, and it is God Himself who will judge us accordingly (Romans 13:1).

As a nation, we will forever face many tough and heart wrenching issues; sadly, on this side of eternity, life will never be fair. Yet I believe no single issue will ensure God’s wrath faster than that of legalized and publicly funded abortion. And make no mistake, a vote for Barack Obama is a vote to sacrifice the lives of babies at the gain of your pet political agenda. You will be judged for this.

May God help us.

Three, a reminder to remember to see this from God’s perspective, and not just from the finite perspective of our current living status. Regardless of the wisdom of a candidate on certain areas, a man who does not align himself with God in the area of legalized bloodshed in the nation he is ruling is setting himself in opposition to God and His blessing. The people dwelling under such leadership simply cannot expect favor. Rather, they can expect judgment. There are spiritual principles at work here.