At this point, I’m in the inflatable tub, the midwife and midwifery student flutter into the room on occasion to listen to babies heart tones and my vitals. My husband sits on the bed beside the tub, taking in all the magic that is this moment. I’m occasionally asking for water, and needing a homemade popsicle at all times, coconut water or herbal nettle and red raspberry blend. My contractions come on strong and take over my entire body. I’m channeling my breath as I’ve practiced and been taught. And at the end of each breath cycle, there is a guttural noise that sounds out of this world. To deny our animal tendencies in this moment would be absurd. I was pure lion, or bear, rumbling the floor with my bellows. They were not screeches, or yelps. There was no desperation or concern. It was pure power channeling through my vessel that I had absolutely no control over.
I want to insert some wisdom and reality by emphasizing the innate animal we each are. During labor, it is highly likely one will evacuate their bowels, aka poop. For those whom have assisted home births, part of your “duty” is to collect the doody as it finds its way into the tub, the floor, the bed. This can seem eventful as you read it, or as one relays a story, but in the moment, when you are waiting for a BABY, poop is the furthest thing from “eventful”. More often than not, this is collected, cleaned, swiped-away, more for the laboring mamas dignity. Many women feel conscious of their bowels, but if you are “holding back” even in the slightest, this is you holding back your baby. It’s important to let go of any fear of this process, and consider it simply part of the process. Your baby's head is literally swiping by the lower bowels and forcing this elimination.
Okay, that preface was for this part of my birth story. As small amounts of poo found their way in the tub and were readily collected with literally a small fish net… at one point I found myself startled as I backed into what I thought was a LARGE poo floating!, but in reality it was the end of my black theracane… (rigid plastic S-shaped massage tool). You can imagine the laughter and startle of the situation. The brevity of this moment at least allowed for an additional dusting of harmony and solace, as it lightened the unfolding story a tad further. Especially since the theracane was needing to combat a muscle spasm that would happen with each contraction. I am unsure if this was my psoas or quadrates lumborum, but it would tighten to such a degree, I felt nearly immobilized. I used visualization here, and told myself the sensation was literally my sons body pushing against my lower back. I ‘knew’ this wasn’t true, but with each surge, I would visualize the his back pressing firmly into mine, and it would allow me acceptance of the discomfort, and therefore, comfort.
It was now nearly 4:30am. My grunting had gotten even louder and more intense, and so the midwife offered to check me again to ensure babies head was past the cervix. It was as if every muscle in my core in synchrony would contract, forcing breath out of me in a deep grunt. I agreed to the check, as I have witnessed mamas pushing “too early” against a swollen cervix. I reminded her that if my water had yet to break, to please not rupture my membranes (this was very important for me).
I also informed her, that with each contraction, I could feel “something” poking my fingers. The midwife checked and without hesitation, confirmed my babies head was “right there”. I was “good to go”. This was good news since I had already been “pushing” for sometime!
I was then delivered “good” and “bad” news… the bad news was that this midwife had just been called to one of her own clients births…! This is absolutely unheard of! That would be the fourth baby that night. And on a full moon I would say we can make sense of this, but this evening was a new moon, no light to be seen. The good news, was that MY midwife had finished up with her previous birth and was able to come to me!
As I continued following my bodies lead, feeling my babies head slowwwwwwly descend, the midwives swapped places. I was so grateful to have my midwife there, as we have years of history together and for us not to get to share this moment would have broken my heart. I kept mentioning that the head would disappear after a contraction. I knew well enough this was physiologically normal, a babies head descends during the “push” and then “retreats” a bit before descending again, ‘paving the way’ if you will. Though I knew this was normal and appropriate, as the laboring mama, this was incredibly frustrating. I would feel so satisfied in my contraction/surge with how far baby would travel, only to feel like I lost what I had gained.
As with many labors, babies heart rate was decelerating during contractions. Often times a position change can remedy this, but other times, you simply want to deliver baby to prevent prolonged low oxygen supply. So here I am, trying to follow my bodies lead and in this (honestly) blissful state, but also urging baby to “come along now” to prevent oxygen deprivation, and I’m beginning to stretch…
As I felt the burning, I tried to pace myself to slow down his decent, but also encourage stretching with breath work. I circled and gently rubbed his head, and tried my best to prevent tearing.
I can honestly say, my birth was not painful up until this point. The ring of fire was an initiation beyond comprehension. It was slow, but it went fast. It was painful, but I felt so powerful. It slowly revealed its potential as I claimed several times, “oh that’s what it feels like”, only to be revealed a newer depth of my understanding. At one point, I screamed “my clitoris”, as I proclaimed it was going to tear. I was reassured that was only the sensation but not the reality. I supported myself, needing to triple check on these tissues. I slowed my breath and had faith in the process.
I had planned to catch my own baby, or perhaps Jeff would. This was the vision and the comfortable plan. But as I expanded, and stretched, and grew, and stretched some more, I no longer felt confident that I could prevent tearing on my own, and I wanted support with my perineum. I recruited the midwife to guide baby boys head out.
And eventually, “his head is out!” I was told. With both my hands occupied as I leaned back on them onto Jeff. I thought… “but I feel no relief”. And with that thought, I gave the first and only forced push the entire labor to get this baby out, and out he came!
