I want to take a moment to reflect on Oliver's birth story. When I starting writing it 7 months ago, I didn't have any intention of sharing it this publicly; I wrote it for myself and Oliver. I wanted to remember the little details, like which episode of "Friends" was on, what was said, and what was going through my mind in the process. So if you're reading it and thinking, "Too much information...," keep in mind that it wasn't originally intended for public consumption. I decided to share it on the blog after I had several people ask me about our experience of birthing at home. I have made a conscious decision to keep the blog brief so that I can keep up with it, but it seemed like this was a worthy exception to the rule. This is a bit more private than I will generally be on the blog, but with an average of 15 page views a day, I thought it would be okay (after all, ten of those page views could be my mom for all I know).
I think when one is writing a birth story with an audience in mind, it is tempting to share an abridged version, or a sugar-coated version. For me, this was especially the case given the fact that it was a natural birth and a home birth. We received a great deal of criticism for our decision (or more commonly, a lot of blank stares and cricket-chirping silence, which feels as critical as explicit criticism sometimes), so there is a temptation to make it seem as magical and ideal as possible. Don't get me wrong--it was magical, as I think all births are, but it was also a lot of hard work. I think it's important to show that a birth can look different from what is depicted on "A Baby Story" and still be very safe and normal. That's the whole point--birth is very safe and normal, as a rule.
If it had not been for the 59-minute "detour" at the end, I think I would've relayed a much more warm-and-fuzzy birth experience. In the tub, pushing the first time, I remember thinking, "That wasn't too bad!" I even said at one point, "After this is over, I'll even say it wasn't too bad." Famous last words. Unfortunately, Fran was right--I hadn't worked very hard at all yet. I would've been okay with an "easy" birth, but that wasn't in the cards. It's hard work having a baby, no matter how relatively "easy" it is!
When I talk about suffering during Oliver's birth, I'm strictly talking about psychologically suffering. It is physically demanding work to have a baby, but I have not experienced anything in a birth that I would deem physical suffering. Rather, I entered into a frame of mind that was very negative, self-defeating, and self-pitying, which made it seem impossible to cope with the physical demands of the labor. Nothing about the intensity contractions changed; the way I dealt with them changed entirely, though. Ina May Gaskin says that you can't access the feel-good hormone oxytocin when you're whining and crying, and I can vouch for that. Fran and Nadah said after the birth that I recovered remarkably quickly from the setback, but it certainly didn't feel like that (especially considering that the hour felt like 3 to me!).
My in-the-moment account of the birth does not do justice to Fran's clinical skills during the birth. I enjoyed her care every moment of my pregnancy, and I cherish her skills even more since having her attend my birth. She has a tremendous amount of experience that she draws from, has an excellent knowledge base, and trusts her intuition. Most importantly, she passionately believes in the ability of a woman and a baby to work together to achieve a healthy outcome. When I look at midwives like Fran and more famously, Ina May Gaskin, I can't help but come to that conclusion as well. The proof is in the pudding: in a country where intervention rates are sky-high and we have one of the worst infant and maternal mortality rates of any industrialized nation (Ina May would point out that this is NOT because of the half a percent of women who give birth at home), these practitioners see 2% of women giving birth via c-section. (An appendix in Ina May's book Birth Matters contains her statistics from all the births she's attended over the last 40 years. It's really remarkable.) The flip side of that is that over the last 30-40 years, they have seen thousands upon thousands of normal, healthy births. They have seen many variations to "normal" labor and births and know when events are outside of that realm. I can't imagine having a doctor I trusted any more than I trusted Fran.
As far as my annoyance with Fran during the labor, I see that as a non-issue in terms of her competence as my midwife. I would chose her again for this birth a hundred times over, and if we have another baby, I would not have any hesitation about hiring her again. It is important for a practitioner and the mother to connect on a personal level, I think, and we did. I immensely enjoyed and treasured her care during my pregnancy, and in hindsight, I am very grateful for her care during my labor. I think that I was probably going to be annoyed at someone during labor, and she was the lucky recipient. Particularly at the point when she delivered the news that Oliver had backed up, it was inevitable that I was going to be disappointed.
For me, that disappointment looked like a super-pissed mama. She said later that she quickly debated in her head if there was any way to not tell me what was going on, or to lie about it, and she decided that there was no way around the truth. I'm glad that she was so straightforward with me, even though I was mad at the time. One of the things she and I talked about as we prepared for the birth is that I did not want her to act paternalistic if she had information that I needed to know. That is, I didn't want her to withhold information because she wanted to spare me discomfort.
In the end, I'm so thankful for her care. No relationship is going to be perfect, and for me, I'd rather have someone with top-notch clinical and patient-care skills who might be annoying to me during labor than make a trade-off in favor of a more pleasant personality match. If we had clashed throughout my pregnancy, during labor, and postpartum, it would be a different story. But that wasn't the case and I'm happy with my choice.
I'm also happy with my choice to birth naturally. One of the big mysteries for many people in our culture is why anyone would choose to "go through" a natural labor and birth if there is a way to opt out and have a healthy baby in the end. For me, it has been a journey to trust my body and believe in its strength. It's been healing and redeeming. It's been empowering; I have come away from both my son's births feeling like, "If I can do that, I can do anything." There have been many times in the last three years that I've had to access that power, too. I think I will call upon that strength until the day I die.
Also, the more I educate myself and hear the stories of other women and babies, the more I am convinced that our decision was the safest for us.
Of course, I'm very fortunate that my health allowed for me to be a good candidate for a natural birth at home. There are many women whose health or circumstances are not favorable for this kind of birth, and the births of their babies are equally magical, as is the fact that they created a human being in their body. So even though I am proud of my accomplishment, I don't say that as a way to say that I'm superior to any other mother.
I could go on forever about pregnancy, birth, home birth, maternity care, babies...but I won't (you're welcome). I hope that this has shed a little light on some of the things that may have been unclear from the birth story itself. I'm pretty much an open book when it comes to these topics, and I welcome any questions or discussion. Thank you for reading, and for all the wonderful support I've received just since publishing the story last night.
I'll leave you with a few more photos from Oliver's birth day. (I can't change the order from my phone, so they're in reverse chronological order until I can get back to my computer.)
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