By far the most difficult and rewarding thing I’ve ever done was giving birth to A. Like most women in the U.S., I’d heard how painful birth is all my life, I’d seen on countless television shows women screaming through labor (and ultimately intervention,) and I’d been conditioned by just about every woman I knew who had given birth to embrace the epidural as an inevitable (and even desirable) part of the experience. When I gave birth to my first daughter, N, I went into the process largely uneducated on the subject, and while ideally I wanted to “go natural,” it was tucked away in the back of my mind as more of a lofty goal – a decision I’d make when I came to that point. Needless to say, after twenty-three hours of hard labor I caved out of sheer exhaustion when I was offered relief.
However… my experience was less than gratifying. I don’t know that I really had any definite expectations for my birthing experience (again, I was uneducated,) but I knew the experience I’d had wasn’t what I wanted. First was the issue of back pain I had as a result of my epidural. (I haven’t been able to have it medically confirmed, but when I sit for long periods of time I still get excruciating shocks of pain that emanate from the site where they inserted the needle in my back.) Second was the fact that I felt so far removed from the experience (I literally felt nothing from the waist down, and when it came time to push I wasn’t even sure I was doing anything) that when it was all over I felt almost apathetic towards my baby. So, when I found out I was pregnant with my second, I started to re-evaluate my choices.
Inevitably, I chose to give birth at a birthing center with a midwife. My husband, D, was unconvinced (he harbored the typical daddy fears of “what if something happens in labor and we’re not at a hospital?”) It was important to me that we were both on the same page, so we went through genetic counseling (we both come from families where there could be some concern over birth defects, so we wanted to clear that hurdle before meeting with the midwife) and then took a tour of the birthing center. The center was beautiful, peaceful, and homey, with a spectacular lakeside view. Nancy, our midwife, was the paragon of strength and serenity; she inspired confidence with every word she spoke. D was a converted man after that first meeting – so much so that when we returned to the hospital (where N was born) for his emergency appendectomy last October, he kept repeating, “I’m so glad we’re not having our baby here.”
Choosing to go with a midwife in itself was an adventure; turns out that even though I live in an area that has one of the highest midwife-per-capita ratios in the nation it was still quite an unorthodox choice. One afternoon, just days before A’s birth, as D and I were in the checkout line of our local Target store with some last minute baby items, the cashier noted my (very pregnant) state and asked, “When are you due?” When I told her it could be any day, she asked, “Oh, are you delivering at (insert name of local hospital here) ?” When I answered that I would be using a midwife and delivering at a birthing center, the conversation abruptly fell flat. When I added that I would have chosen to birth at home were we not moving just 8 weeks later and currently living amid a sea of boxes, the cashier stared at me as if I’d just grown another head. As we walked to the parking lot D chuckled, “I just don’t think people know what to do with that information…”
Having one person attend to me all throughout labor and delivery (as opposed to a constantly changing staff of nurses and a 15-minute meet-and-greet with the doctor during the actual birth) was a refreshing change and an invaluable asset. I had the confidence of knowing that she knew exactly what was happening at every moment because she’d been there through it all, and had the experience of over 4,000 other births to rely on. I had the comfort of a familiar face to answer my questions and give advice when I wasn’t sure what to do, and I felt total freedom to move around however and whenever I wanted without feeling like I had to lie down to be monitored at every turn.
The ultimate payoff, however, was the birth itself. I will be honest and admit there was a (brief) moment during transition where I thought “I can’t do this!” and a rush of panic raced through my mind as I grappled with whether there’d still be time for me to get an epidural if I had D take me to the hospital. Interestingly enough though, just as quickly as that panic was there, it was gone. In that dark, panicky place, I found the strength to keep moving forward without fear, and when it came time to push, there was clarity and focus like I’ve never experienced before. I felt, undeniably and profoundly, that I was doing something incredibly important in partnership with the baby I was about to meet. I knew that as hard as I was working to birth her, and as difficult as the process had been for me, she was working just as hard to be born and had experienced the same challenges. We were working toward one of the most important goals either of us had ever experienced, and in the intensity of the moment, I felt elated and euphoric.
When I look at pictures of the births of both my girls now, there is a marked difference to me. I’m not exaggerating when I say that in the pictures of N I look pale – sickly, even. In the pictures of A’s birth, I am flushed, alive, glowing. To me, they represent the vastly different experience I had with each. Strangely, I wouldn’t change anything about either one – I know that the first experience was vital in my own personal journey; it raised questions in my mind that compelled me to research and educate myself (first about birth, then about many other issues surrounding parenting and health care.) I can state with assurance that I would be in a much different place today if my first experience hadn’t been what it was.
Inspiring Birth Stories 