Bringer of Joy

It was my third child we were expecting and for weeks I had been having contractions. They'd come and go, some stronger and more disruptive to my daily tasks and others mild but noticeable. The odd evening, they'd become regular but only linger for a few hours and then be gone. I had been warned that with each subsequent pregnancy one can expect to have more and more pre-labour action, and that was exactly what I was experiencing. It was nice to expect it, and I even went as far as deciding that I wanted to be "in denial" of labour until I was starting to push! Wouldn't that be nice? Hah. 

Well, at 5 days past my due date (which I tried not to put any hope in), and after countless nights that my husband and I said goodnight to each other thinking that we might be up a few hours later only to wake in the morning with no baby in our arms, I decided to finally get one last task done that I had been procrastinating on. I wanted to sew some cloth baby wipes, and so I got out the machine, fabric and supplies and began sewing. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I started in on that task, the contractions began. At first they seemed just like the ones I had been having over the past few weeks, but after a little while I started realizing that they were coming fairly regularly, and so while I sewed, I would glance up at the clock every so often and see how far apart they were. 8 minutes. 6 minutes. 7 minutes. 5 minutes. Hmmm....no, I wouldn't jump to conclusions. Denial, right? :)

The girls were downstairs watching TV, and hubby was puttering around the house doing a little tidying, a little organizing (this is completely normal behavior for my Dutch husband), and a little facebook perusing. I didn't bother mentioning it to him, since I didn't want him to start to jump to conclusions either. 

Then all of a sudden they were stronger, and coming 3 minutes apart. I let Ryan know that it might be time to call his mom to pick up the girls for their "baby's coming sleepover", and I called the midwife. 

As soon as I realized that it might be actually starting, I was flooded with panic and anxiety. Suddenly I was facing it again. For the third time I would be experiencing my body giving birth - no small feat. For the third time I would be heading into uncharted waters, because really, who can predict how it will go? My first two were so different - the first being long and hard and the second being a short 3 hours of intensity. What would this be like? 

I asked hubby to calm me, to pray for my peace, to be close to me while I passed through this moment. And I was met with just that - a calm, happy peace passed over me as I breathed deeply and remembered to relax my body and mind, and trust. 

I am a person of faith- one that seems to change and grow and shift as life goes by. In my mental and spiritual preparation for this labour and birth, I spent some time seeking out the paths I would need to take to find comfort and to pass through this experience without panic and fear. I have always known the God of the Bible as "He", but have also believed that God is bigger than gender, and that the male gender doesn't encompass all that God is. And in this preparation, I felt that I would need God to be a SHE. A mother. A mother who understood childbirth, who understood because she created all people. With this image I began my labour. 

I imagined myself on a wooden deck overlooking a vast field of wildflowers, sun shining and breeze blowing cotton through the air. I was holding my baby, and the Mother was with me, loving the baby as much as me. I swayed back and forth with the contractions and she swayed with me. 

Labour slowly intensified, and as it did, I moved from the bed we had set up in the living room into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, and then as things got more intense, into the bathroom and into the bath. All the while, I was on that porch, overlooking that field, swaying and holding my baby, with the Mother alongside me. 

I lay in the bath and my left brain told me I was nearing transition as the contractions intensified and I began to calmly, loudly, moan through them. They came one on top of the other. My thoughts became foggy as my right brain took over. Here's another one. If I just moan loud enough, long enough, rhythmically enough, they're manageable. Don't tense my body. Leave it limp. Moan through them. By the third moan, the contraction will peak and I'll be over the hardest part. Moan. Relax. Don't tense my hands. Moan it out and away. Breathe. Breathe. Rest. Relax. Another one coming. Moan through it. Third moan will do it. Relax. Don't tense.

The midwife and hubby were whispering. Then she asked, "are you feeling pushy?". Then I felt the baby move downwards. A new sensation. Two more contractions and my body gave way to the otherworldly urge to bear down. Baby was coming. And soon.

No amount of relaxation could have kept me calm and quiet at this point. I came back to myself. My head cleared. I began to feel panic, and was reassured by the midwife and hubby that I was doing well. The midwife told me that the baby was "right there", to which I roared, "I KNOW!", because I did. :) The second midwife arrived as I climbed out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor. They were going to bring me into the living room where the bed was set up, but I wasn't going to move from that spot. The baby was coming and I was going to have it right there!! Ten minutes later, she was lying on my chest, big, pink and perfect. She cried her eyes out at the cold and shock of light and noise. A healthy, beautiful baby girl. 

Had I at some point wanted a boy? Had I really thought that I might be disappointed if a girl came out? Those thoughts raced through my mind and seemed so foreign, so hilariously mistaken! It was she who was in my belly the whole time! It was she who we were waiting for! Not some random lottery of gender, or person, or identity. She already had her own identity - our beautiful little baby girl. Not even "number 3" or "the third daughter". No, she was herself. She was her own person, in her own right, and I am so happy she's here. She has brightened up our lives, just as her sisters did each in turn as they arrived into our family. I'm so thankful for her, and for the person she'll become as she grows, whoever that may be. Thanks be to the Mother for sustaining me, for my husband who held me up, to the midwives for their gentle support and wisdom.


Her name means "bringer of joy", and it's true!

Tasha's Story

It was wonderful being pregnant. I loved rubbing my belly and feeling his jabs and kicks in return. My husband would shout at my belly to wake up the baby so he could feel the kicks and movements. We'd talk about how exciting Christmas would be for us (and him in a year or two!) I worked as a nanny and the kids I looked after enjoyed feeling him move and reading him stories or singing songs to the baby. The youngest, 2, would still be carried once in a while and he always thanked the baby for the piggyback after riding on my bump. I loved being pregnant, but I definitely love being able to bend over to tie my shoes again!

On August 13th, almost a week before my due date, my doctor did a membrane sweep to hopefully jump start labour. She also discovered I was 2cm dilated! Sure enough that night I had contractions every 2 hours for about 5 seconds in length. And that continued. For nine days... At basically the same rate.

Four days overdue, on August 22nd, I woke up around 8am with stomach pains and some serious bathroom problems. Then I remembered the part of delivery that no one ever talks about... the diarrhea. And those stomach pains? Oh, those are actual contractions. (The ones I had before then were slightly more than Braxton Hicks but didn't hurt at all.) I went back to bed for a while. I still wasn't 100% sure if was contractions and was trying to not get my hopes up. I told my husband about the possible contractions and he started bugging me to time them. (Seriously, if you have a husband like mine, you are better off just letting them go to work and letting them know you're in labour when it's time to go to the hospital... that's my plan next time!) I timed them and they were regular. For the most part, they were every 5 minutes and about 15 seconds in length.

Around 2:30pm I called the maternity ward to talk to a nurse. My prenatal instructor and the hospital tour said to not bother coming in until you've talked with a nurse on the phone. According to the nurse I wasn't having strong enough contractions yet (they talk with you during a few of them to gauge how much they hurt) to be admitted but they were willing to do an exam to double check if I wanted to go in. My husband came and picked me up and we went to the hospital where the nurse did an internal exam and announced I was 5cm along and that yes, I would be staying. She was shocked I was in labour at all, apparently I was coping well.

My husband, mom and I walked the hospital corridors for a couple hours. I was still going to the bathroom constantly and around 5pm I made a mad dash to the bathroom and had my water break, thankfully while above the toilet... When they say you'll know when your water breaks, they mean it. It literally felt like a water balloon popped up there. I was a bit embarrassed to have to walk through the hospital to get back up to maternity after that because I was paranoid I was leaking (I kept looking behind me, I wasn't, thank goodness)

The contractions started coming on faster and stronger at that point so I stayed close to my birthing room, to my nurses relief. By about 7cm I was too tired to walk and sat in bed. Each contraction came fast and hard. I ended up going into the shower with my husband massaging me to help with the pain since I was determined to do it naturally, if possible.

At 8pm I kept feeling like I had to push. My nurse kept telling me I wasn't dilated enough. And if you're like me and heard many stories about rips and tears, you are a bit nervous about pushing too early. I kept telling her I had to push so she finally said I could. She didn't check my dilation so I was paranoid and wouldn't push until she checked to see if I was far enough dilated.

I was, so I started pushing. One nurse kept telling me to stop making so much noise when I pushed.. I wanted to smack her. She was trying to be helpful and tell me to use that energy to push not make noise but at the time, I was furious! My husband had to reassure me that I could do this after I was in tears a few times hoping that I would pass out so I wouldn't have to go through any more of that... And then the contraction would pass and I would think "Bring on the next one, that was nothing!" And then came the next one, and the doubt again.

My doctor came in around then and said she was just checking on me before she went to have dinner. She checked and excused herself... Came back in record timing in her delivery gown. So much for dinner, I guess! 

My baby boy was born about 10 minutes later at 8:36pm. He cried and fussed for a moment and within 5 minutes they had him latched on and eating while the doctor gave me one stitch. My husband held his first baby ever (he's never held a baby other than ours) and the grandmas came in from their guard posts in the hallway.
I got to shower shortly after and was thrilled to be on my feet. I was more than willing to go home that night if they would have let the baby come too, haha. We were discharged the next day but had to wait until 8:30pm for the weigh in and blood sample collection.

My son is now 7 weeks old. He is smiling back at us (and if we make a sad face, he will 'cry' but we are pretty sure that it's a fake cry!) We have been getting out of the house every day since we got home, even if it was just a walk around the garden in our complex. I've made many mommy friends and attended lots of baby drop-ins to keep us busy and active (and to keep me sane since I need adults to talk to during the day!) My husband took two weeks off work after the birth and has returned to work since. We have family evenings where we all snuggle up on the couch and watch TV.

Baby is exclusively breastfed and very demanding when it comes to feeding him, haha. We were hoping he would take a bottle (just once in the evening so I could get a solid 5+ hours of sleep) but he refuses bottles and soothers. Oh well! I enjoy snuggling him... Even at 3am. And again at 5am. And then usually around 6:30am!

I've yet to be able to detach the imaginary umbilical cord. I find it incredibly hard to leave him for any amount of time. It's not that I don't trust him with other people. it's that I can't bear to be away from him. I think that's mostly just because of his sporadic hunger (sometimes he will just eat and then decide he's starving again) and the fact he won't take a bottle so it's up to me to fill his need to eat. I have only left him once, for 20m, at the dentist. And my husband was in the waiting room with him. I was terrified he would be hungry and need to eat and I wouldn't be there for him... He slept the whole time and didn't even miss me!

During one of the last contractions before I began pushing, my husband asked me "When are we going to have a second one?" That was the only time I swore during labour/delivery. I said a great big "F__ you" (I never swear, so he found it quite funny) But thinking back to that question... I don't know. I really lucked out with this pregnancy/delivery that I don't think I would want to risk tainting the wonderful memories and ending up with one of those horror stories people tell you about! But who knows... We always thought of us only having one, but we've put the newborn clothes away in storage. Just in case.

A Story for my Daughter

You came to us on a Friday morning. We had been hoping for a week that you would come out. We went for walks, I drank strange tasting teas, we whispered sweet nothings into the skin on my belly, but nothing would rouse you.

Then on that Friday morning, so early that the sky was still black, you decided that it was time. I awoke with a slight pain in my belly, and three contractions later was wincing in pain.

"I'm going to take a bath," I whispered to your Dad. He groggily grunted an "okay" and so I poured, and dipped, and within minutes called to him to time the pains. Three more came and went, and I knew you were coming soon.

"Call the midwife." I said to your Dad.

"Already?" He asked.

"CALL THE MIDWIFE." I demanded, and surged into another wave of pain.

He called, and spoke, and I didn't need to ask him what he was asking me with his eyes.

"Tell her not to come here - we need to just meet her at the hospital. And call the others. NOW."

He did as I commanded, and within a half hour, Kay was over to sleep on the couch in case your big sister woke up, and your Auntie was on her way to the hospital to meet us.

Hardly having recovered from a wave of pain, I pulled myself out of the bathtub and got dressed. I moaned with the waves as they came, but I knew that you were coming and I was encouraged by the thought of you.

Halfway down the stairs another wave hit me. Then again in the kitchen, and again halfway into the car. I had three waves on the drive, and another in the parking lot. Another in the elevator, and another at the front desk. I knew you were coming soon.

I laid on the bed, waiting for the midwife, your Dad by my side and your Auntie standing, praying, smiling.

"I want an epidural..." I moaned as I heard the midwife's voice.

"You're 8 centimetres dilated. I think that you might have this baby within the hour. An epidural could slow it down and make it longer."

I cried, feeling helpless. I cried not knowing how it would feel without that relief. With your sister, I had gotten an epidural after two days of labour, but you were coming so fast that there was little time, and little logic to it.

I cried, and then overcame my fear. I knew that I had to be strong and not weak. Labour, after all, demands strength.

I calmed myself and accepted some gas. It helped me cope in a labour that came so quickly that I couldn't catch my breath. I moaned and breathed and twisted my body around, and within an hour was feeling that earth-shattering feeling of you coming into the world, and then you were born.

They put you on my chest and I cried and laughed at the same time. I proclaimed your name proudly to your Auntie and the nurse, and laughed and cried some more.

Your Dad cut the cord, took you and held you, and stood beside you as you were weighed - a fine 9 pounds and 7 ounces! I let out a sigh of exasperation and relief and mostly joy. You were here. You are here.

It has been four days now. You are beautiful. Your ruby lips and perfectly round head leave us all in awe every time we look at you. You are well loved, well adored. Your sister is enamored, and your parents hardly have words.

And as I sit here, milk dripping from my right boob and pain and aching in my nether region, I can't express to you how worth it all you are to me. I would do it all over again in an instant.

Teresa's birth story of her third child

When my labor started early in the morning of Jan 16th, I got up and started making the muffins I had signed up to bring to the church potluck. Haha- those never made it there. I remember my husband being outside preparing the vehicle for what seemed like a long time ;-) Then the contractions became more intense and I needed to focus. With each contraction, I would leave my 5 and 4 year old in the kitchen and circle the coffee table singing a song. The songs varied to keep them from getting annoyingly repetitive. Haha. I remember when I called my husband in and told him I needed him. I remember calling him again saying I was serious. He was my steady hand holder for each of my deliveries. The midwife student came and checked me and we decided to head to the hospital as I was 7cm dialated.

I was able to sing through a couple more contractions at admitting and in the room. Then I remember the distinct contraction where I just had to let out my primal moan. I had two or three of those and then got in the tub.

After reading to prepare for labor, I had a strong desire to feel and be aware of feeling my baby coming out. As got into that tub I felt it! I said clearly "This baby is coming now!" Then I slowly eased her out, feeling her head as it emerged. I was really a sweet experience.

I had great people around me (husband, midwife student and midwife) and a lovely delivery. Still hard, but it was all I had hoped for.

Now my 1 and a half year old is crying for me. Off I go.

You're pregnant! It's a time full of excitement and anticipation! Why is it, then, that everyone seems to have a horror story to tell you? Why the warnings and negativity?

WHY INDEED.

There are MILLIONS (yes, millions) of parents out there who have wonderful things to say about birth and babyland and how amazing it is to experience.  So here, I have created a space for parents to tell their GOOD stories.

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We're just getting set up here, so you can do one of two things:

1- Come back in a week or two and see what we've got going on.

2 - Submit your own good birth or baby story by sending an email to peacearchdoula@gmail.com