Part I: Cian's Birth

      I used to believe that babies should be born in hospitals. I thought that having a baby at home was dangerous and foolish. But not any more. When I had Cian in 1992, I didn't consider a home-birth for one second. He was born in a hospital. I was induced with prostaglandin cervical gel 3 days after my due date. I went into labor immediately, had 4 hours of back-to-back excruciating contractions, vomited non-stop throughout the whole labor, and begged for an IV because I was so thirsty I couldn't stand it. After three-and-a-half hours, I was 4 cm dilated and pleaded for painkillers (even though I had promised myself beforehand that I would not accept anything for pain), and I got a shot of demerol. Less than half an hour later, my son was delivered by a nurse -- the doctor didn't make it in time. I tore so badly that it took the doctor an hour to sew me up. Cian was too groggy to nurse, and I was too groggy to appreciate that miraculous moment when I first held him, tightly swaddled, in my arms about an hour after he had emerged from my body.

     Despite the induced labor, the vomiting, the demerol, the perineal tearing and all those stitches, the manual extraction of my placenta and pitocin shot, and the Staphylococcus aureus infection that Cian picked up in the hospital (which required a 6-day course of intravenous antibiotics), I had never considered the birth of Cian to be anything short of wonderful! I was so thrilled to have this little person in my life that the birth experience was filed under "glorious moments" in my memory! Then, seven years later, I became pregnant with Jacob, and I looked back at the birth of Cian through different lenses and decided that I wanted Jacob's birth to be different.

Cian at 3 days old with IV.

 

Part II: Jacob's Birth

      Early in my pregnancy with Jacob, a friend gave me a copy of the Sears' "The Birth Book". I read it cover to cover and, for the first time, wondered if perhaps a homebirth might be for me. I surfed the internet and read homebirth web sites and visited homebirth forums. I read about hospital births vs homebirths and over a period of a few months, I came to look at birth in a whole new way. One story -- I think it was Angelica's Birth -- listed all the routine hospital procedures that had not happened at her home birth, and I kept going back to that story. Finally, I made up my mind that I was going to have a home waterbirth. I bought an inflatable pool, told everyone what I was doing, and defended my position against an onslaught of criticism. I was so excited at the prospect of having a spiritual birth, free of interventions.

       But, when I received a package of information in the mail from the area midwife, I realized that there was no way that I would be able to afford her fee. She earns every penny and I would have gladly paid her double what she charged, but there was no way I could come up with the money, and I didn't feel right asking her to reduce her rates for me. I was devastated, and angry that medicare covers hospital births but not home births. But, I managed to find a wonderful, young, female doctor who seemed to be very respectful of my wishes and I set about finding ways to ensure that my hospital birth would be as rewarding an experience as possible. I made a birth plan and made sure that my doctor was aware of my wants and don't-wants, visited the hospital and talked to the L & D nurses, and so on. And although I was quite sure that I could have a satisfying hospital birth, I kept finding myself being drawn back to the homebirth websites, reading unassisted birth stories, and fantasizing about having my baby at home. I knew I could have an intervention-free birth in the hospital here, but that spiritual component would be missing.

        Deep down I think I wanted an unassisted birth, but being a single mother, I'd never really considered an unassisted birth an option. Cian's father agreed to help me conceive Jacob, but that's all, and he lives in another city. My close friends, at least the ones who lived near enough to help with the birth, are career women who don't have children and their views on childbirth are very mainstream (i.e., babies should be born in hospitals where they have the technology to intervene when things go wrong!). But, I couldn't get the unassisted birth fantasy out of my head. I posted on Charity's Unassisted Childbirth Forum a few days after my due date asking if anyone had given birth at home all alone. A few people knew someone who had, and I received lots of encouragement. I began to seriously consider the idea and read everything I could about unassisted childbirth.

       For a week, I had been having contractions every afternoon and evening, but they were irregular and usually stopped as soon as I went to bed. But that Sunday afternoon, one week past my due date, they were quite a bit stronger than usual. I was brimming with excitement and anticipation. I still wasn't sure where I was going to have this baby though! I spent the afternoon gathering information off the various homebirth websites, reading about possible birth complications and what to do in the event that something goes wrong, what supplies are needed for a homebirth, and so on. And I made a decision -- I decided to try for an unassisted homebirth while allowing myself the freedom to go to the hospital if I changed my mind. I had made prior arrangements to call my friend when I went into labor and she would come over and stay with me and take me to the hospital and be there for the birth. But now, I decided that I would call her to come and be with me only when my labor was well under way. At the same time, I was prepared to go it alone if I decided when I was in labor that I'd prefer to be alone.

      I cannot describe the load that was lifted off me once I made up my mind to try for an unassisted homebirth. I felt so calm and empowered and overall elated! I drove to the drugstore and bought some chux pads, a plastic sheet, a white shoelace (to tie off the cord), some sharp scissors (for cutting the cord), and a nasal aspirator (just in case!). I went home and boiled the shoelace, scissors and nasal aspirator to sterilize them, and dug out my old crock-pot so I could have hot oil compresses for my perineum available (whoever thought up the crock pot idea is a genius!). Then I called my friend on the other side of the country (a home birth advocate) and told her what I was going to do, and told her that I was definitely in labor. It was such an exciting time. I did not waver in my decision for one minute.

        The contractions continued throughout the day, accompanied by bloody show, and by about 11 p.m. that night, they were averaging 10 minutes apart and were starting to get painful. I filled the bathtub with warm water and moved between my bedroom and the bathtub for the next several hours. I turned off the lights and lit every candle I could find. The atmosphere was nothing short or mystical and despite the pain, I was ecstatic. Around 2 a.m., my contractions began to get very painful and it seemed that as soon as one ended, the next one began. I yelled and cried through each contraction and wondered what I was doing wrong since most of the homebirth stories I'd read were filled with peace and very little in the way of pain -- pain, they said, was due to fear, but I didn't feel the slightest bit of fear. I decided to let go of the idea that I was doing something wrong and allow myself to feel the pain and yell if I wanted. And it was great to yell! After all, there was no-one but my very puzzled-looking dog to hear me (Cian was sleeping over at his friend's house). I let myself be consumed by each contraction, brimming with anticipation at the thought of meeting my baby. I thought for sure that I must be in transition. But the contractions just kept coming! Around 5 a.m., I decided that I would call my friend and tell her that I was definitely in labor. It was hard to talk because the contractions were right on top of each other. I could not have imagined getting in a car and going to the hospital at that point under any circumstances!

      The next few hours flew past. I went back and forth between my bed and the bathtub. I moaned and yelled and panted with each contraction. I remember at one point, just before my friend arrived, being on my hands and knees on my bed feeling really glad that no-one was around to watch because I had to poop so bad, and I couldn't move! Little did I know that I was also pushing the baby down the birth canal.

      Just at that moment, as I was overwhelmed with the strength of the contractions, I heard knocking and banging on the front door. My friend had arrived... but it seems that when, in the throes of labor, I had "unlocked" the door, I must have actually locked it instead! When the contraction subsided momentarily, I ran, stark naked with a towel between my legs (a comical sight, I'm sure!) to the front door and unlocked it -- but I was too late. Thinking that I must have gone to the hospital without her (the doors were locked and to her the house looked dark because I had only candles burning, and only in the back rooms), she had gone back to her car. I was immediately consumed by another contraction that forced me to my knees and I could feel another BM coming on, so I crawled off to the bathroom.

        I sat on the toilet, gave a big push and realized that this was the baby coming! I reached down and felt his head crowning! It was such a glorious moment! I squatted on the bathroom floor, pulled the towels down off the rails, put them under me, and my baby's head emerged. I reached down and I could feel my baby's head, but couldn't tell which way he was facing and I couldn't see anything, I could only feel him. I felt to see if the cord was around his neck. It was wrapped twice around his neck, and it was too tight for me to get a finger under to loosen it. My thought was that I had to get him out right away, so I pushed as hard as I could even though I wasn't having a contraction, and he slid right out onto my arm and hand. I lowered him gently onto the towels. I had the cord unwrapped in a flash and he immediately started to holler. The feeling that rushed over me at that moment is just indescribable. It was pure joy! I picked him up and laid back against the side of the tub in awe. I tried to put my slippery newborn to my breast, but realized that I was shaking from head to toe so hard that there was no way he could possibly latch on! I had nothing to wrap around us because the towels were all wet and bloody on the floor. Then a great gush of blood ran out of me onto the bathroom floor and I had no idea if it was normal or if I was hemmorhaging. It was at that moment that I realized how much I wanted my friend there, but all I could do was sit back and listen to her car pulling out of the driveway. It was about the happiest and saddest moment of my life!

      I sat there holding my baby for what seemed like about 10 minutes (although later I found out that it was actually about 45 minutes!), stimulating my nipples and waiting for the placenta. I had found a couple of cloth diapers which I had wrapped haphazardly around the baby to try to keep him warm, but I was freezing cold and still shaking too hard to nurse him or to stand up. Fortunately, there was only that one gush of blood and I decided that it was probably normal. The placenta didn't come out, and I was eventually able to get up. I made my way to my bedroom holding my baby who was still attached to me via his umbilical cord and called my neighbor -- I really wanted someone there at that moment. Then I tied off the cord and cut it.

       Once I had given birth, I should have just crawled into bed with my baby and waited for my friend to call or come back. Calling my neighbor was a big mistake -- she took one look at the blood on the bathroom floor and called 911. They insisted on taking me to the nearest ER and I went along with it just in case I'd lost too much blood. When I arrived at the ER, I was immediately labeled a "difficult" patient because I questioned and refused every one of their interventions and they didn't get to do anything to me or the baby in the end :) They tried to stick an IV in me "in case I was dehydrated" -- I told them I was quite capable of drinking and they could bring me a glass of water. Then the doctor tried to pull out the placenta -- I told them I would try nursing my baby again since I had finally stopped shaking; this time he latched on like a pro and the placenta came out right away. I heard the doctor ask the nurse to go get a shot of pitocin for me -- I told them that I didn't need pitocin since I wasn't hemmorhaging (so I didn't get the shot). Then I had a major argument over the eye ointment -- my own doctor was fine with the baby not having the eye ointment, but this doctor was a real jerk about it! It was annoying having to fight them off, but I did it and by that afternoon we were happily back at home.

       I never did feel like I'd just had a baby. I had no tearing, no pain, and I had tons of energy following Jacob's birth (this was a good thing because I arrived home from the hospital in the pouring rain to find that my basement was flooded and there was a huge mess to clean up)! It was soooo different from my postpartum experience with Cian (two days after his birth I was still confined to bed with a catheter and an IV!). I went to get groceries when Jacob was less than 24 hours old and people marvelled at how good I looked. And I couldn't believe how great I felt!

       Having my baby at home was the most incredibly spiritual and empowering experience of my life and I would definitely do it again!

Cian, 7 yrs old, and Jacob, 3 days old.

 

--Madelyne

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