Arabella's Story
Arabella's Story
by Kiera K.
Friday morning I woke at 6:30 when my 3 year old fell out of bed trying to escape a giant spider (Harry Potter dream- bad Mommy!).
I began having contractions soon after; regular, but not painful. Although I had experienced this same pattern twice in the previous week, I was certain this episode was actual labor. Anevay went back to sleep and I walked around the house, wondering if this child would be born before everyone woke up. Strange as it seemed to everyone I told, I had envisioned a solitary birth in my mind. Even the people who are already accustomed to my consistent deviation from ‘normal’ were a bit surprised by this revelation.
By 9 am, the contractions were very close and strong. I was unable to relax or even stop moving. I tried listening to a George Winston CD, but it did nothing to relieve the monumental contractions, and in fact was just irritating. I was moving around my room in a way that, in my minds eye, resembled a tribal war dance at best, or more picturesquely, a drunken run through a cow pasture, much more than anything having to do with sacred childbirth. I imagined 'expansions' instead of contractions, I told myself I did not have to interpret these sensations as pain, and I visualized the universal power flowing through my womb. Despite attempts to alter my experience, the truth relentlessly persisted: this was PAINFUL. I resigned myself rather quickly, albeit reluctantly, to not having that elegant orgasmic birth.
I got through each contraction by counting. I knew that it would end somewhere between 15 and 30, and I kept reminding myself that soon I would be holding this new baby. I consoled myself with the knowledge that while both my previous labors had been painful, they were also fairly short. I looked at the clock at 10, and decided that this child would be out by noon.
I alternated between a hot shower, the hopping run, standing next to the bed leaning on a pile of pillows, and on my hands and knees on the floor with more pillows. Everyone had woken up by this time, but I was somehow managing to keep them away from me, and fortunately, no one had witnessed my 'dance'. I finally got my husband out of the house, Anevay was occupied with cartoons, and my older daughter had retreated to her dungeon.
My sister-in-law Kelly arrived around noon with her 6-year-old son. Kevin had called her, thinking, I suppose, that she'd be more useful (and welcome) than he was, not being the type of person to panic if a crisis arose (Kevin being of the type that panics and becomes the crisis). We had discussed previously the possibility of her being present at the birth, but I hadn't called her when labor began. Several people had expressed an interest in attending, but I had been noncommittal.
At any rate, when Kelly arrived, she did all the right things. She gave me ice and applied cold washcloths to my face and back, kept the kids from complete mayhem, and didn't say too much. It was uncomfortable, even without labor; June in Texas with a freon-depleted A/C at midday is fairly hot. I did appreciate the irony. "The bastards can't freeze me this time," I thought with satisfaction. Climate control was yet another benefit of birthing at home.
I declined to share any information with Kelly about my progress, but honestly, I was in strange territory. I had been pushing for several minutes, although I didn't have a clue as to exactly how dilated my cervix was. It felt soft, not swollen, and I was as sure as I could be without a professional opinion that this baby was head down, facing my left.
However, what I was feeling did not immediately register as a head.
In fact, it didn't feel like any part of a baby that I was familiar with.
I refused to panic. I knew that the membranes were there, but I didn't know what they felt like. Fortunately, before I had long to ponder exactly what was on it's way out of my uterus, I felt, (and heard, as well), an explosive pop, and then lots of warm fluid rushing out. Then I felt hair, and I knew we were within the realm of human, and, we were also nearing what I hoped would be a long nap. I was exhausted, and 2 months of uncomfortable migration from sofa to kitchen to bed to bathroom had not left me in peak physical condition.
I had, until this time, simply followed my instincts, but now I wondered briefly if I should try to slow things down a bit, since... well, never mind, I couldn't stop; I pushed the head out, and finally alerted Kelly. Then, the urge to push (this is not an accurate description; urge is not nearly strong enough terminology) simply ceased to exist. Kelly reminded me 3 times that this child needed to come out, and I pushed as hard as I could, but nothing happened. The seconds seemed interminable. I moved to a standing position, then to a squat, then back to hands and knees. Was this shoulder dystocia? I waited for the baby to rotate, but I never felt it happen. Kelly saw it, and then I pushed with all the strength I could manage, and finally, daughter number three emerged into the world at 12:37 pm.
She began breathing without any suctioning, and Kelly helped us into bed. Everyone came in to see the new baby (who never cried, but looked around alertly before beginning to nurse), Dad arrived (and I believe was glad he had been spared the ordeal), and after about 2 hours, we cut the umbilical cord so that she could be weighed. Nine pounds! She was bigger than I expected. Her sisters had been 6 lbs.8 oz, and 7 lbs., respectively. And I wondered why it hurt!
After some prodding, I went to take a shower and get the placenta out. I was having fairly strong contractions, although I had to exert myself to push it out. Another surprise; I had never seen a placenta before, and I was not expecting it to be so large.
That's my story, but there are some observations I would like to add. I would have benefited greatly from seeing someone else give birth prior to my own experience. Having children in a hospital or birth center or other attended setting is not the same as being on your own. Instinct notwithstanding, we are too far removed from a natural life. It is no easy task to forget everything and surrender to Nature. Also, I had never been more acutely aware of my own responsibility, and I knew without a doubt that any complication or disaster that might have occurred would have been solely and undeniably my burden, ironically because I had chosen the circumstances that seemed safest to me. And then there were several things I was not prepared for, which of course, in other cultures are common knowledge.
Still, my choice was the best for me; I had one hospital birth 16 years ago that I was fortunate to come out of relatively unscathed. It was a battle for a 19-year old first time mother to get any consideration. I was subjected to ‘standard’ procedures without my consent, and chastised for not accepting the epidural. The doctor actually complained that he was unable to reach into my body to his satisfaction! My amniotic sac was ruptured without my permission, and I received a routine episiotomy. Afterward, I had to remind the medical personnel repeatedly that I did not want their injection to suppress lactation, I didn't see my daughter for several hours, and when they did briefly bring her to my room, she had been fed and wasn't interested in nursing.
My second birth was with midwives in a birthing center attached to a hospital. It was quite an improvement, and yet, still without choice in many areas. The mandatory prophylactic IV and continuous fetal monitoring effectively immobilized me, and I was never out of the shadow of that Supreme Timetable. I was in constant fear of failure to progress and it's possible consequences, including the ‘delayed’ (25 minutes) third stage when my placenta was yanked out and whisked away as though it required immediate medical attention. I was allowed to keep my baby for maybe half an hour, and then she was carried away with promises of a quick return (which never materialized). I led our group down to the nursery after 2 hours to find her swaddled and crying in a crib. The nurses seemed surprised, but at least not offended that I had come to find her. She was brought to me a few times, but returned each time to the nursery. Fortunately, we went home after 24 hours.
I considered myself lucky on each occasion, but I wanted something better.
These experiences led me to plan an unassisted birth. I skipped the usual homebirth with a midwife because I knew by this time that I didn't want to birth according to some other person’s ideas and requirements. I didn't want to be 'allowed' to do anything.
Well, I got what I wanted. And this single autonomous act is one of the most important events of my life.
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