Sunday, December 02, 2007
Havelock's Freebirth
I had no intention of freebirthing when I found out I was pregnant - I'd read about it and admired women "crazy" enough to do it, but was firmly convinced it wasn't for me. I wasn't even completely convinced that I wanted to homebirth, so my first attempt at securing care was to ring the Birth Centre - two weeks after I conceived, the day I found out I was pregnant. They were already full for October, and their waiting list was so long that I never made it to the top in the whole nine months. We also missed out on our preferred midwife by a matter of hours (she was booked by a mama she'd already attended previously while I was considering). We had no idea where to turn. Freebirthing still didn't look like an option I wanted to take, but I liked the idea of hospital even less. The idea of having to book the only remaining midwife simply because she was the only remaining midwife didn't appeal. I basically stopped thinking about it for several months and went on with the business of being pregnant...
Somehow, by about the fifth month, the reading and considering and option-weighing I'd been doing while avoiding making a decision had crystallised my feelings that I reacted so strongly to the idea of freebirthing because it was something I truly was drawn to doing, if I could only clear away the layers of fear and distrust. I stopped ringing the Birth Centre and badgering them about their waiting list. I sank into myself and connected with my baby, and learned how to read my body's cues without the interpretation of a medical professional. I started reading more seriously about freebirth, and paying attention to what fears came up. Eventually, I got hold of a copy of Birthing from Within, and using the author's suggestions about birth art as a spur to exploration, began to process my feelings around my previous births, my own birth, and my relationships with my parents and children. It was the most profound spiritual exploration of my life, and it released a lot of deep emotional energy for me.
Anyway, on to the birth! By Friday afternoon, I'd spent the week with Braxton Hicks contractions getting stronger and more painful during the afternoons and dying away at night, so I wasn't all that hopeful that the ones I was having on Friday afternoon were going to lead anywhere. They started to feel less like BH and more like gradually intensifying period cramps as the day went on, leaving me feeling rather more hopeful. I was completely exhausted and intended to take advantage of my MIL yet again to keep the munchkins entertained while I had a nap, but Tiffany decided she needed cuddles, so walked home and we snuggled up in bed and had some lovely bonding time. Better than a nap, although as things turned out I could really have done with the sleep!
In the evening things had started to heat up even more, and I began timing the contractions at about 8:45 to get an idea of where I was. At that point they were roughly 8-12 minutes apart, over a minute long, and getting stronger. I stopped timing them after a while and went and tidied up my study while listening to Tiffany reading aloud. As I was now getting fairly confident that things were going to start happening this evening I persuaded her to have a shower and go to bed (she had decided that she didn't want to be at the birth). While she was in the shower, I was standing up and circling my hips to get through a contraction when my waters broke with an almost audible pop, flooding everywhere. They were straw-coloured, but there was no sign of fresh meconium, and given the fact that the baby was at nearly 42 weeks gestation at this point I figured it wasn't worth worrying about. I cleaned myself up, put on a pad (then another one immediately afterwards *g*), then some comfy PJ pants to put Tiffany to bed. I was feeling confident and excited about the upcoming birth. DH SMSed our friend and labour support person N to tell her where I was at, and they arranged for her to come round once she'd finished feeding her baby. At this point I was still expecting things to go pretty slowly, so we expected that she'd come over and have a few hours sleep while I was in early labour so that she wouldn't have to drive too late at night. But by the time she got over (about 10:30pm), my contractions had started coming a couple of minutes apart and I was definitely in active labour already.
At this point I found that I could only stand up and circle my hips through each contraction. I tried a couple of different positions but anything which put pressure on my tummy was unbearable. After processing and releasing my fears of another painful posterior labour like Susan's, I had mostly stopped paying attention to the baby's position by this point in the pregnancy, but I suspect he was still turning round to anterior in early labour (he certainly came out that way), and the hip-circling was helping him rotate. I lit my aromatherapy candle ("Bliss" ylang-ylang and rose - I knew what I wanted!), put something to lean on on the corner of the bookshelf, and rested my forehead on that while I circled. It still hurt a lot, but the feeling of opening up was incredibly sexy. Each contraction was like an exquisitely painful orgasm, and when I started having to vocalise through them my noises reflected that. I was still feeling them very low in the belly - in fact I never felt them in the top of my uterus until pushing stage, in contrast with previous births. I just wanted to be alone, so DH and N were setting up the birthpool and getting it filling while I was in my study.
As the contractions got more intense I decided I wanted to be in the shower. I can now testify that instant gas hot water is the best thing ever invented (we had it installed during the pregnancy). I was in the shower for quite a while as the birth pool was filling, and when I moved to the pool I wanted the water on my lower back the whole time, and we never ran out. While I was in the shower I was still feeling the contractions, low down in my belly, as simultaneously intensely sexy and intensely painful, but nothing unbearable. With each one during first stage labour, I could feel my cervix expanding and my vagina becoming lush and ripe and ready to birth, it was beautiful and awe-inspiring and kept me focussed through the pain.
Then I must have hit transition, because suddenly I felt disoriented and nauseous and just wanted to give it all up and run away. When I heard myself thinking "If we went to hospital now I could have an epidural!" a sensible bit of my brain was able to identify "Aha - this must be transition!" Something which later amazed me was the degree to which every level of my being was working in harmony - my bodymind was able to move and vocalise and labour instinctively with total freedom and confidence, but yet some part of my conscious mind remained completely in touch with what was going on, able to analyse and even provide a running commentary at times (I told myself off during second stage labour when I started writing my birth story in my head *g*) without disturbing the deeper balance. The overwhelming sense of physical and mental unity that I experienced as the birth progressed was a truly profound feeling.
With the nausea and disorientation, I was worried that if I stayed in the shower I might lose my balance, so I went into the living room and got into the pool. The pool was about half full by this stage, and as I wanted the water on my back, there was a minor flurry of organisation with hoses and buckets before the amount of water coming in was equalised by the amount flowing out again, and nobody needed to worry about flooding! This meant that we needed to leave the front door open, but according to my support team I never made enough noise to worry about disturbing the neighbours. The baby had obviously finished getting into the correct position now, because it no longer hurt to bend onto all-fours. I had a couple of final "opening up" contractions, then started to feel definite shifting movements in my belly of the baby making minor adjustments to his trajectory and beginning to move into the birth canal. I still couldn't quite believe that I was about to start pushing my baby out! My last two births had pushing stages which were about two hours long, so after those experiences that part of my brain still capable of rational thought was somewhat worried...fortunately I was doing a good job of not being distracted by my fears.
I think it only took something like fifteen pushes to get Havelock all the way out and I pretty much remember each one individually. The feeling of him starting to move through the cervix and down the birth canal was just amazing - I love that I was so in tune with my body that I could feel and understand those interior processes which in previous births I had needed a midwife to describe to me! I was mostly breathing through these early pushes and not overworking myself, but as he got closer and closer to freedom I started feeling the urge to really push (my diaphragm was sore for days afterwards). As I felt him getting closer to crowning my sliver of rational brain panicked about how badly I had torn with Susan - who emerged posterior and with both hands up by her chin - and I stopped pushing for one contraction and just breathed. Then I told myself that I could hardly change my mind and run away at this point, so with the next contraction I started growling "I can do it I can do it I can do it I can do it!" N and DH started encouraging me at this point (the first time they had spoken directly to me during the labour); they could see that the head was close to crowning. It took two contractions before the head actually emerged, and the second one seemed to go on for about three years and hurt like hell, but finally his whole head was out! I reached down and touched the slimy hard lump of his head as I rested between pushes, but it still didn't feel real to me. The pause between each contraction seemed to lengthen each time until my internal monologue was getting desperate for things to hurry up so I could get it all over with! I also distinctly remember thinking, "where's my foetal ejection reflex, damnit?" *g* I had a final moment of panic that he was going to get stuck at the shoulders, but psyched myself through this one as well with my mantra.
Havelock emerged in four movements: head, shoulders to tummy, butt, and then the rest of his legs. From his perspective, DH said Havelock woke up and started trying to swim when he was only halfway out, and he breathed as soon as we took him out of the water (1:18am). Finally, after so much anticipation (and, admittedly, whinging), he was here! DH went to wake Tiffany so she could meet her new brother, although we left Susan to sleep.
I wanted to get out of the pool and go somewhere more comfortable to start breastfeeding, so we got me out and into my study (originally designated as a possible birthing space, so it had plastic dropsheets next to the bed and covering the mattress). I was feeling very dazed and as I stopped tuning into my intuitive self I was much less sure of what I should be doing, so found it really hard to get into a position where Havelock could start rooting for the nipple. I felt the urge to push but as I was lying down nothing much happened. After a little while I started feeling quite shocky and couldn't figure out how to stand up while Havelock was still tethered to me with the cord, so I asked DH to cut it (not the most rational response, but I couldn't explain what I needed and it seemed simplest at the time!). The cord had stopped pulsating and only oozed a little, which was good as, given that we had intended a lotus birth, we didn't have anything available to tie it off. When I stood up and pushed the placenta basically flew out of me and there was a huge rush of blood with it. I soaked through a couple of maternity pads immediately and we started on the things we'd discussed in case of possible haemorrhage. I had a cup of raspberry leaf tea and successfully started feeding Havelock, but when I got up to go to the loo I was still gushing blood and there was blood on the bed too. I decided it was time to try eating the placenta and N went to cut me off a piece. I couldn't bring myself to actually eat it so I stashed it in my cheek instead. This trick worked almost instantaneously and the gush slowed immediately to a normal lochia flow. I didn't think I'd lost enough blood to need to transfer to hospital, so concentrated on replacing electrolytes with a sports drink and adoring my new baby instead.
Despite the fact that he was 4.76kgs (10lb 8oz for the metrically disinclined), I barely tore at all - much less than with my two previous births. At the most I had a couple of grazes which took less than a week to heal completely. Having such an easy pushing stage also gave me a new appreciation for my magical, flexible pelvis, and I even forgave it for the three months of horrible SPD pain and discomfort beforehand! Babies in his weight range have a comparatively high risk of shoulder dystocia, and I can imagine the birth going very differently had I been labouring in the hostile environment of a hospital labour and delivery room, with too many distractions to listen to my intuition, and the constant pressure from even the most benign staff to conform to their expectations and routines which made my previous births so much less instinctive. I am sure that staying home, plus the prenatal work I did in releasing my fears about birth, contributed to having such a short, joyful, safe labour and birth. This time, I listened to my instincts and stayed upright the whole time, which helped bring the baby down into my pelvis quickly and easily. I was able to relax into the contractions from the very beginning, welcoming them as a positive part of my labour, and managing them with water and my natural birthing hormones. Being in a safe, familiar environment, with lowered lighting and minimal noise and fuss, allowed me to go deep within myself, and facilitated maximum hormonal release. Having the weightlessness of a waterbirth enabled me to get into a position where my pelvis was open to its widest extent, and contributed to me not being too exhausted to push when it came to those last moments.
Freebirthing was a magical, transforming experience for me. I might not have chosen it had circumstances been otherwise, but I am incredibly grateful that it chose me...
Somehow, by about the fifth month, the reading and considering and option-weighing I'd been doing while avoiding making a decision had crystallised my feelings that I reacted so strongly to the idea of freebirthing because it was something I truly was drawn to doing, if I could only clear away the layers of fear and distrust. I stopped ringing the Birth Centre and badgering them about their waiting list. I sank into myself and connected with my baby, and learned how to read my body's cues without the interpretation of a medical professional. I started reading more seriously about freebirth, and paying attention to what fears came up. Eventually, I got hold of a copy of Birthing from Within, and using the author's suggestions about birth art as a spur to exploration, began to process my feelings around my previous births, my own birth, and my relationships with my parents and children. It was the most profound spiritual exploration of my life, and it released a lot of deep emotional energy for me.
Anyway, on to the birth! By Friday afternoon, I'd spent the week with Braxton Hicks contractions getting stronger and more painful during the afternoons and dying away at night, so I wasn't all that hopeful that the ones I was having on Friday afternoon were going to lead anywhere. They started to feel less like BH and more like gradually intensifying period cramps as the day went on, leaving me feeling rather more hopeful. I was completely exhausted and intended to take advantage of my MIL yet again to keep the munchkins entertained while I had a nap, but Tiffany decided she needed cuddles, so walked home and we snuggled up in bed and had some lovely bonding time. Better than a nap, although as things turned out I could really have done with the sleep!
In the evening things had started to heat up even more, and I began timing the contractions at about 8:45 to get an idea of where I was. At that point they were roughly 8-12 minutes apart, over a minute long, and getting stronger. I stopped timing them after a while and went and tidied up my study while listening to Tiffany reading aloud. As I was now getting fairly confident that things were going to start happening this evening I persuaded her to have a shower and go to bed (she had decided that she didn't want to be at the birth). While she was in the shower, I was standing up and circling my hips to get through a contraction when my waters broke with an almost audible pop, flooding everywhere. They were straw-coloured, but there was no sign of fresh meconium, and given the fact that the baby was at nearly 42 weeks gestation at this point I figured it wasn't worth worrying about. I cleaned myself up, put on a pad (then another one immediately afterwards *g*), then some comfy PJ pants to put Tiffany to bed. I was feeling confident and excited about the upcoming birth. DH SMSed our friend and labour support person N to tell her where I was at, and they arranged for her to come round once she'd finished feeding her baby. At this point I was still expecting things to go pretty slowly, so we expected that she'd come over and have a few hours sleep while I was in early labour so that she wouldn't have to drive too late at night. But by the time she got over (about 10:30pm), my contractions had started coming a couple of minutes apart and I was definitely in active labour already.
At this point I found that I could only stand up and circle my hips through each contraction. I tried a couple of different positions but anything which put pressure on my tummy was unbearable. After processing and releasing my fears of another painful posterior labour like Susan's, I had mostly stopped paying attention to the baby's position by this point in the pregnancy, but I suspect he was still turning round to anterior in early labour (he certainly came out that way), and the hip-circling was helping him rotate. I lit my aromatherapy candle ("Bliss" ylang-ylang and rose - I knew what I wanted!), put something to lean on on the corner of the bookshelf, and rested my forehead on that while I circled. It still hurt a lot, but the feeling of opening up was incredibly sexy. Each contraction was like an exquisitely painful orgasm, and when I started having to vocalise through them my noises reflected that. I was still feeling them very low in the belly - in fact I never felt them in the top of my uterus until pushing stage, in contrast with previous births. I just wanted to be alone, so DH and N were setting up the birthpool and getting it filling while I was in my study.
As the contractions got more intense I decided I wanted to be in the shower. I can now testify that instant gas hot water is the best thing ever invented (we had it installed during the pregnancy). I was in the shower for quite a while as the birth pool was filling, and when I moved to the pool I wanted the water on my lower back the whole time, and we never ran out. While I was in the shower I was still feeling the contractions, low down in my belly, as simultaneously intensely sexy and intensely painful, but nothing unbearable. With each one during first stage labour, I could feel my cervix expanding and my vagina becoming lush and ripe and ready to birth, it was beautiful and awe-inspiring and kept me focussed through the pain.
Then I must have hit transition, because suddenly I felt disoriented and nauseous and just wanted to give it all up and run away. When I heard myself thinking "If we went to hospital now I could have an epidural!" a sensible bit of my brain was able to identify "Aha - this must be transition!" Something which later amazed me was the degree to which every level of my being was working in harmony - my bodymind was able to move and vocalise and labour instinctively with total freedom and confidence, but yet some part of my conscious mind remained completely in touch with what was going on, able to analyse and even provide a running commentary at times (I told myself off during second stage labour when I started writing my birth story in my head *g*) without disturbing the deeper balance. The overwhelming sense of physical and mental unity that I experienced as the birth progressed was a truly profound feeling.
With the nausea and disorientation, I was worried that if I stayed in the shower I might lose my balance, so I went into the living room and got into the pool. The pool was about half full by this stage, and as I wanted the water on my back, there was a minor flurry of organisation with hoses and buckets before the amount of water coming in was equalised by the amount flowing out again, and nobody needed to worry about flooding! This meant that we needed to leave the front door open, but according to my support team I never made enough noise to worry about disturbing the neighbours. The baby had obviously finished getting into the correct position now, because it no longer hurt to bend onto all-fours. I had a couple of final "opening up" contractions, then started to feel definite shifting movements in my belly of the baby making minor adjustments to his trajectory and beginning to move into the birth canal. I still couldn't quite believe that I was about to start pushing my baby out! My last two births had pushing stages which were about two hours long, so after those experiences that part of my brain still capable of rational thought was somewhat worried...fortunately I was doing a good job of not being distracted by my fears.
I think it only took something like fifteen pushes to get Havelock all the way out and I pretty much remember each one individually. The feeling of him starting to move through the cervix and down the birth canal was just amazing - I love that I was so in tune with my body that I could feel and understand those interior processes which in previous births I had needed a midwife to describe to me! I was mostly breathing through these early pushes and not overworking myself, but as he got closer and closer to freedom I started feeling the urge to really push (my diaphragm was sore for days afterwards). As I felt him getting closer to crowning my sliver of rational brain panicked about how badly I had torn with Susan - who emerged posterior and with both hands up by her chin - and I stopped pushing for one contraction and just breathed. Then I told myself that I could hardly change my mind and run away at this point, so with the next contraction I started growling "I can do it I can do it I can do it I can do it!" N and DH started encouraging me at this point (the first time they had spoken directly to me during the labour); they could see that the head was close to crowning. It took two contractions before the head actually emerged, and the second one seemed to go on for about three years and hurt like hell, but finally his whole head was out! I reached down and touched the slimy hard lump of his head as I rested between pushes, but it still didn't feel real to me. The pause between each contraction seemed to lengthen each time until my internal monologue was getting desperate for things to hurry up so I could get it all over with! I also distinctly remember thinking, "where's my foetal ejection reflex, damnit?" *g* I had a final moment of panic that he was going to get stuck at the shoulders, but psyched myself through this one as well with my mantra.
Havelock emerged in four movements: head, shoulders to tummy, butt, and then the rest of his legs. From his perspective, DH said Havelock woke up and started trying to swim when he was only halfway out, and he breathed as soon as we took him out of the water (1:18am). Finally, after so much anticipation (and, admittedly, whinging), he was here! DH went to wake Tiffany so she could meet her new brother, although we left Susan to sleep.
I wanted to get out of the pool and go somewhere more comfortable to start breastfeeding, so we got me out and into my study (originally designated as a possible birthing space, so it had plastic dropsheets next to the bed and covering the mattress). I was feeling very dazed and as I stopped tuning into my intuitive self I was much less sure of what I should be doing, so found it really hard to get into a position where Havelock could start rooting for the nipple. I felt the urge to push but as I was lying down nothing much happened. After a little while I started feeling quite shocky and couldn't figure out how to stand up while Havelock was still tethered to me with the cord, so I asked DH to cut it (not the most rational response, but I couldn't explain what I needed and it seemed simplest at the time!). The cord had stopped pulsating and only oozed a little, which was good as, given that we had intended a lotus birth, we didn't have anything available to tie it off. When I stood up and pushed the placenta basically flew out of me and there was a huge rush of blood with it. I soaked through a couple of maternity pads immediately and we started on the things we'd discussed in case of possible haemorrhage. I had a cup of raspberry leaf tea and successfully started feeding Havelock, but when I got up to go to the loo I was still gushing blood and there was blood on the bed too. I decided it was time to try eating the placenta and N went to cut me off a piece. I couldn't bring myself to actually eat it so I stashed it in my cheek instead. This trick worked almost instantaneously and the gush slowed immediately to a normal lochia flow. I didn't think I'd lost enough blood to need to transfer to hospital, so concentrated on replacing electrolytes with a sports drink and adoring my new baby instead.
Despite the fact that he was 4.76kgs (10lb 8oz for the metrically disinclined), I barely tore at all - much less than with my two previous births. At the most I had a couple of grazes which took less than a week to heal completely. Having such an easy pushing stage also gave me a new appreciation for my magical, flexible pelvis, and I even forgave it for the three months of horrible SPD pain and discomfort beforehand! Babies in his weight range have a comparatively high risk of shoulder dystocia, and I can imagine the birth going very differently had I been labouring in the hostile environment of a hospital labour and delivery room, with too many distractions to listen to my intuition, and the constant pressure from even the most benign staff to conform to their expectations and routines which made my previous births so much less instinctive. I am sure that staying home, plus the prenatal work I did in releasing my fears about birth, contributed to having such a short, joyful, safe labour and birth. This time, I listened to my instincts and stayed upright the whole time, which helped bring the baby down into my pelvis quickly and easily. I was able to relax into the contractions from the very beginning, welcoming them as a positive part of my labour, and managing them with water and my natural birthing hormones. Being in a safe, familiar environment, with lowered lighting and minimal noise and fuss, allowed me to go deep within myself, and facilitated maximum hormonal release. Having the weightlessness of a waterbirth enabled me to get into a position where my pelvis was open to its widest extent, and contributed to me not being too exhausted to push when it came to those last moments.
Freebirthing was a magical, transforming experience for me. I might not have chosen it had circumstances been otherwise, but I am incredibly grateful that it chose me...
