All the tests came back as normal but there were indications that she was quite dehydrated. They suggested she stay long enough to have an IV and she agreed. She felt 100% better after that and promised to drink lots more water than she had been drinking. I was glad that it wasn’t early labor. Her baby needed to gain more weight before he arrived. I waited for her taxi home and hugged her goodbye when it came.
Back home I climbed into bed after checking that I had set a clean set of clothes on a chair should The Call come. It did at 10:00 p.m. At last, it was Alegra! Contractions were five minutes apart and she had called her midwife, who agreed it was time to go to the hospital.
I had not had a mom so well prepared for a long time. She had done her homework. She had even presented me with her birth plan at our first appointment.
We were settled into a large room and the midwife met us there. I suggested hanging out in the tub in the bathroom while the birth tub was set up and filled, which would take awhile. The room didn’t have a built-in tub but the midwife and nurse hauled in a huge assemble-your-own-tub kit which was rather nifty, with a disposable liner. I brought in my battery-operated “candles,” placed them around the edges of the tub, turned off the overhead light, got Alegra’s jug of juice, and settled in for however long we’d be here. Her partner, Fernando, wasn’t here yet. He would get off of work in an hour and Alegra assured him she would wait at least that long.
When the tub was ready we moved back into the room. Alegra was so relaxed that I was surprised when her midwife checked her and said she was already eight centimeters. Fernando arrived and was more than excited. Alegra was very quiet at that point, slowly breathing and not answering his questions. After one contraction she tried to tell him that it was getting too intense to talk. He didn’t exactly “get it” and tried to bring up the subject of the baby’s name, which they still had not agreed upon. He playfully tried to smooth back some of her hair and she smacked him square in the chest. He got the message that time. I suggested he take my place by the edge of the pool and just hold her hands. We switched places and they got into an easy rhythm, breathing, resting, breathing, resting . . .
He moved over at one point and Alegra grabbed his belt with both hands. He tried to pry her fingers off the belt and hold her hands but she had decided that that was what she needed at that moment. His jeans were creeping earthward, but he was the only one who was at all concerned.
I was telling her how well she was doing, that it wouldn’t get harder than this, that she was really doing an awesome job when, with the next rush, I heard the universal “Grrrrrrrrr!”
Midwives and doulas the world over recognize the sound, at least wherever women are allowed to birth naturally, instinctually, and are not rushed into the second stage and pushing.
I whispered, “Uh huh” to confirm that this was it, that she was doing it right. After the next couple of rushes I thought I saw the head crowning, though with Alegra in a squatting position, I was not positive. I silently slid over and whispered to her midwife, “I think you want to be here.” She took the cue as the baby’s head became visible and told Alegra to pick up her baby.
That moment, at that time, was the most magical span of time in the entire universe. I watched in slow motion as Alegra reached for her baby as the rest of him slid out, face down. She brought him out of the water to her chest, dripping water the only sound.
Fernando was totally blown away. It was the most amazing thing happening in the whole world at that very moment and we were allowed to witness it.
Little Xavier started to cry on his own and then his daddy did, too. Alegra was still in shock. She told me later that she kept waiting for it to get worse, to hurt more. She was prepared for labor to be harder to navigate, but perhaps because she expected it to be harder, she was able to integrate each stage as well as she did.
We congratulated her and helped her to the bed when she was ready. We didn’t have to do anything for Xavier. He was pink and breathing and thinking about rooting already, lifting his head to look around. She thanked her midwife and me, though I told her it was she who did all the work. We didn’t do anything, really. She was brilliant.
In Alegra’s words:
“The story of Xavier’s birth began on a Saturday morning almost a week after his due date. At 5:00 a.m. I woke up with some spotting. Nothing happened after that, except that I couldn’t really get back to sleep again. Mom and I went out shopping all afternoon. Around 3:45 p.m. I noticed that it seemed like I had some pressure that came and went; nothing serious.
“When we got home, dinner was spaghetti—our family Saturday night tradition. We must have gotten home a bit later, because we didn’t eat until almost 8:00 p.m. Around 9:25 p.m. I called the midwives through my nurse helpline to leave a message. After a midwife called me back, I called my doula and told her what the midwife had said. I told her I’d take a bath and then let her know how I was doing. So I made a warm bath and hopped in, and it was so relaxing and wonderful, the contractions (which by now I had figured out that’s what they were, even though there still was no ‘whole-belly-squeeze’) dissipated and I figured my labor was slowing down again. It’ll be another day, I thought.
“But, when I got out of the bath around 10:45 p.m., wham! The contractions started up again and came quickly—every three to four minutes. Actually that was with the minute-long contractions, so it felt like every two to three minutes. After awhile I called my doula and she said it sounded like it was about time that I went in and that she would meet me there on the maternity floor. My mom was driving and by this time, though, I had to pause so frequently that it took us awhile to get out of the house with my hospital bags.
“‘What department?’ the security guard asked. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been in the middle of a contraction.
“‘Maternity!’
“‘Oh, do you want transportation?’ (Did I look like I needed a bus? Then it registered—a wheelchair.) Of course I chose to walk, which took more time. We had to buzz in through the secured doors of the maternity unit, and as they slowly opened, I saw my doula at the end of the hall in front of the check-in desk, waiting for me. Relief! She had gotten there first because it took me so long to get out of the house and then through the hospital once the contractions were coming more frequently. Heather, my midwife, checked my dilation and said, ‘Good news. You’re already a six.’ They filled a warm bathtub for me to sit in until the big water-birth tub was ready.
“I kept waiting for Fernando to arrive, but he was at work and didn’t come until after 2:00 a.m. When he did, I relaxed more and with a couple of heaves, revisited my spaghetti dinner. Actually, even though things were getting more intense, I remember almost laughing that the first thing I did was practically vomit all over him. I said something like, ‘You came just at the right time,’ but Stephanie was encouraging.
“‘You know what Ina May says, “Every time you throw up, you dilate another centimeter!’” And even though I hadn’t been nauseous, throwing up actually helped me feel a lot better.
“Not long after Fernando arrived (later I learned it was between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m.), the birth tub was ready and it was time to move in there. By then the midwife told me I was at ten centimeters, but the water bag was still intact.
“She asked if she could break it. I said yes, and after that, the pressure got a lot stronger. The lights were still low, except for a light over the bed by the monitor where the nurse was charting. The best part was that I was so grateful for everyone’s help, yet even though I had no emotional energy to tell them, or even to say thank you, they were very present and continued pouring it out.
“After it seemed like the pushing contractions were slowing down, finally with a change of position, the intensity of the pressure got heavier and heavier. At some point I remember thinking, This is why women ask for epidurals, but it was a passing thought, e
specially with Stephanie and Heather’s encouragement. I didn’t realize I was tensing up instead of relaxing. Then I started making real progress (or rather, the baby did) and with each contraction, I felt a strong and repeated urge to push. Along with the pushing, I was grunting from deep down, primal sounds. I had a fleeting thought—My vocal cords are gonna hurt (and later they did), but in the moment I didn’t feel anything except the pressure down under.
“Then Heather reached down and said, ‘You can feel the baby’s head. Reach down and feel it.’ And I did—it was unbelievable. It was at that point that labor actually began to feel like pain—I felt the ‘ring of fire,’ the stretching around the baby’s head, and I started panicking and felt myself closing up and was afraid that his head was going to go back up inside. Stephanie and Heather kept pouring out encouraging words for me to relax and not panic. Later I realized it hurt so much at that very end because I had both first- and second-degree tears. But I also reflected on the fact that I didn’t register actual pain until the last fifteen minutes or so. Everything before that was increasingly intense, but not painful.
“I felt so desperate and to the point of no return that I just pushed as hard as I could. I started to feel his head push past the intense pain, then on a second push, his body. Heather’s hands were there to help adjust his body as he came out, and then she held his head down in the water as he slid out. She kept him there for a second, then without thinking I reached down and drew him up out of the water and immediately he turned bright red and started screaming. His lungs were clearly working. I was in shock. I had expected to cry. Once again, I was surprised by my own reaction. I had no urge to cry at all. I just stared, gaping at the screaming creature in my hands. Later I learned he got an Apgar score of ten both at one and at five minutes. Yay for Xavier!
“The nurses and Stephanie and maybe Fernando (I was so not focused on them at that moment) helped me out of the birthing tub onto the hospital bed. The baby was still attached by the umbilical cord. I was holding my baby; they were holding me. We didn’t cut the cord for at least ten minutes, and then Fernando cut the cord after it turned white—’like cutting chicken,’ the nurse said, as she clamped it. The nurse and Stephanie encouraged me to place him on my chest and allow him to spontaneously breastfeed, which he did. From the middle of my chest he wiggled to the right spot and started to latch on. Amazing!
“Heather and Stephanie both examined the placenta and Heather explained what she was looking for to gauge its age, the attachment of the cord to the placenta, and how to know it was all there. She even remarked that it was asymmetrical and that the cord was bifurcated, meaning that it split at the base as it connected to the placenta. The fact that I remember that is incredible, since I had been up since 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning and it was by then at least 5:00 a.m. Sunday morning, but I was wide awake. Tired for sure, but on an adrenaline high. It was still dark outside and the room was peaceful.
“A little while after I was stitched up, Stephanie told me it was time for her to go. She had only been up all night. I was so grateful for her calming presence the entire time. My mom came back in from the waiting room, and she got to meet her grandson for the first time. I rested as they weighed and measured him, and my mom took the first pictures of him in my arms. Then a nurse came in and, as the first rays of morning light came up, I signed my admittance papers. Heather was going off-shift, but I was so grateful to her, my doula, the nurse, and Fernando for an amazing birth experience. Most of all, I was so thankful that I had had a natural birth in which I was free to move about freely and comfortably. I loved the calming and warming feeling of the water. I am sure this helped me to not have pain and to really appreciate and embrace Xavier’s peaceful entrance into the world.”
Two weeks later I got a call early one morning from Fernando. He wanted to pick me up at noon to go to a Salvadorian restaurant. I have never had their food and I told him I would be delighted. Lunch was amazing, but it was just as much fun to see how big Xavier had grown. Alegra was a pro at breastfeeding. Then Fernando’s ulterior motive was revealed: he wanted my opinion about whether I thought Alegra had enough milk and if their baby was growing fast enough.
I assured him that she was doing better than ninety-nine percent of the moms I see and that his baby was perfect. Their doctor had told them as much, but he just wanted another opinion and wanted to be sure. I told him that he was such a good daddy for being concerned, and that he should continue to have skin-to-skin time with his son.
I added Xavier’s picture to my collection of baby photos when they sent one. I now had one more baby. I stopped counting years ago after baby number 200. He may have been my first Salvadorian baby. There have been Mexican babies, Hmong, Thai, Kenyan, Somali, Ethiopian, Nigerian, a native of the Cameroons (Cameroonian?), Vietnamese, Lao, Togolese, Native American, African American, Liberian, Cambodian, Asian, and a melting pot of American babies.
I love each one. I worry about some. I pray for all of them. Each one has blessed me. Each is a perfectly unique little soul.
Xavier at ten months old.
“The traditional midwife believes that birth proceeds in a spiral fashion: labor starts, stops and starts, while the baby goes down, up and down, and the cervix opens, closes and opens. Nature has no design for failure; she holds her own meaning for success.”
~Sher Willis
Doula
A Poem
~For Wyatt, November 4, 2012
We dance when all the world is asleep
Down long corridors,
Hallways lit by moonlight.
The full moon our only witness
To this soundless dance.
The waves the metronome we dance to,
Calling him to come
To be with us here.
We love you so
Come dance with us little one.
Come see moon and stars
Waiting, too
Silently waiting
For this Night of nights
This Night chosen from all eternity for your birth.
~sss
Ina May Gaskin
How would I describe Ina May? Fearless, discerning, intuitive, wise, and honest to a fault. By stepping outside of the mold of modern medicine and being free to ask the hard questions, like, “Why have we been doing birth this way, when it is clear it isn’t working as well as we know it could?” she has led a brilliant movement of women (and men) toward the truth that the Creator has given us, a power to know and act as we were meant to, from birth onward.
What follows are some of my favorite quotes by Ina May Gaskin, many from the 2013 movie, Birth Story: Ina May Gaskin and The Farm Midwives. The movie spotlights a spirited group of women who taught themselves to deliver babies in the 1970s while living on what some would call a hippie commune. Through research and trying different approaches to birthing, they learned and have been teaching others to respect the natural ability of women to birth without drugs that can harm the mother and the baby and other interventions. Today, even though C-section rates continue to be too high, Ina May and midwives everywhere are slowly getting through to the medical community.
· “Remember this, for it is as true as true gets: Your body is not a lemon. You are not a machine. The Creator is not a careless mechanic. Human female bodies have the same potential to give birth as well as aardvarks, lions, rhinoceri, elephants, moose, and water buffalo. Even if it has not been your habit throughout your life so far, I recommend that you learn to think positively about your body.”
· “It is important to keep in mind that our bodies must work pretty well, or there wouldn’t be so many humans on the planet.”
· “Many of our problems in U.S. maternity care stem from the fact that we leave no room for recognizing when nature is smarter than we are.”
· “Whenever and however you gi
ve birth, your experience will impact your emotions, your mind, your body, and your spirit for the rest of your life.”
· “If a woman doesn’t look like a goddess during labor, then someone isn’t treating her right.”
· “Good beginnings make a positive difference in the world, so it is worth our while to provide the best possible care for mothers and babies throughout this extraordinarily influential part of life.”
· “Asking a woman to give birth while hooked up to a bunch of machines is like asking a man to have an erection on command while strapped to a hospital gurney.”
Release (By Liz Abbene)
From the moment you see that first positive pregnancy test, the release begins. Every moment, every joy, and every challenge of parenthood, from beginning to end, it’s all about releasing and letting go. Pregnancy begins, and seemingly in an instant, you begin to let go of your former life. Things that were once savored, like sushi and red wine, now are off-limits, replaced with soda crackers and ginger ale. Naps are favored over late nights. As the months go by, you release your body to the incredible process, your belly grows, your breasts change, your skin and hair take on lives of their own (for better or worse) and you release your body image to that of the amazing work of pregnancy. For some, this process is awe-inspiring, for others it’s frustrating. Either way, it’s preparation for the next release: birth.
The journey of birth begins with the last days of pregnancy and the final release of your current, pre-baby, life. The entire labor and birth process is the most incredible release a woman will ever experience in her life. Everything about birth is out and down, which means every sensation, every sound and every emotion is centered around letting go and succumbing to the power of the body. The release that is felt when a baby exits the body is like none other. The exhilarating feeling is the culmination of months—maybe years, days, hours, hormones, stretching, opening, laughter, tears, highs, and lows. Regardless of how the baby emerges, vaginally or surgically, intervention-free or intervention-full, the process of birth is amazing preparation for the next release: parenthood.
Ma Doula Page 24