That same younger self would have been completely appalled and offended at the suggestion that the level of pain and suffering a woman feels while giving birth is all in her head. How cruel and demeaning! How sexist! Pain in birth is like, a medical FACT! ....right?
Well...I'm no doctor or scientist but after doing it a time or two I have to say NO. The feeling of pain in birth is much too subjective to be factual. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced it myself but the state of my mind made a HUGE difference, and I'm not alone. Many, many MANY other women report the same thing. Hypnobirthing and Hypnobabies are two hugely successful techniques to help your mind take control of your matter. I have not taken formal classes of either method but it was reading Marie Mongan's Hypnobirthing book while expecting my second baby that had a profound influence in changing my perspective of the birth process and perception of pain. However, I also had the experience of my first birth to draw on.
Even though I had once said all those silly things and been completely afraid of the prospect of giving birth, for some reason the second I knew I was pregnant with my first baby I had a desire to 'do it naturally', though I honestly had little idea what that actually meant. A friend gave me a copy of Henci Goer's 'The Thinking Woman's Guide To A Better Birth' and that sealed the deal for me, I wanted to do whatever I had to in order to give my baby the best chance at being born healthy and myself the best chance of getting through the process with minimal injury. In exchange for that good outcome I saw myself as the sacrificial lamb who would have to face the fire. All through my pregnancy I wondered and worried 'How bad would it hurt?? Could I handle it? Would I be able to do it??' I expected excruciating pain, and as the Law of Expectancy promises, I got what I knew was coming. It sucked six ways from Sunday. I changed my mind and asked for an epidural the second I got to the hospital. An epidural and wheelchair actually is what I asked for. The wheelchair I got, the epidural I was told I had to wait for until an anesthesiologist was paged. EIGHT hours I laid there, hooked up to the heparin lock and tied to the delivery bed in torment that I made worse as each minute passed by. Tensing up and fighting every contraction that came, thinking of nothing but wanting it to stop, to be over. Actually I was thinking about more than that. Indulging in the depths of self-pity I focused on the pain, trying to decide what it felt like.....being torn apart and eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs? No, no....it definitely hurt more than that. Being engulfed by an internal fire, my organs burning and melting inside? Nope. Worse than that. A freight train running at full speed through my body, tearing my lower half away at the ribs? Yep, I'd say that's pretty much accurate. And honestly that's still a pretty good description of what strong contractions feel like to me, an unstoppable train with incredible force running right through me. I have found it amazing though, the difference in the exact same sensation when I stopped trying to do the impossible and stop it in it's tracks and instead decided to let that train run.
I never got the epidural I had wanted and after my daughter was finally born my sister in law asked me what it felt like. I replied 'IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!!' Under my breath I muttered 'And Ina May is totally full of shit.' I even wondered if next time I should just schedule a c-section.
But.....time passed. I healed quickly, was falling more in love with my daughter every second and heard the recovery challenges of friends who had cesareans and came back to reality to be grateful for the healthy vaginal birth I had. And I picked up Ina May again. And Childbirth Without Fear, and Active Birth, and the Hypnobirthing book. I planned to give birth to my next baby in a birthing center, far away from access to pain meds but I figured that what I experienced with my daughter hadn't killed me and there was no way it could possibly be worse. Pain schmain. Whatever. And I was going to have a beautiful new BABY at the end of it! That was all that really mattered to me now that I knew first-hand the overwhelming joy of motherhood.
My perspective was much bigger than myself the second time around. Everything was so much different at the birthing center than it had been at the hospital, I had access to a shower and bathtub to labor in and was able to lie down on a big comfortable bed any way I wanted when I needed rest. I had written inspiring thoughts and funny things and taped pictures of my daughter to note cards to reference when things got hard. I also had my husband to lean on. During labor being close to him, able to freely hug and kiss and laugh together was calming and kept my confidence high. But long before contractions started, talking out the challenge of mind over matter with my trusted partner is what prepared me the most.
When we were expecting our daughter we took a childbirth education class where the instructor was teaching 'pain avoidance techniques' like holding ice in your hand and finding your happy place while the freezing cold burned your skin. My husband said 'That's terrible advice, trying to escape is the LAST thing you should do. You gotta RIDE it, embrace it babe!' 'Oh please what could you possibly know about it?' I ignored him with an eyeroll. After what happened with my daughter, I realized that just maybe he had been right. 'Umm.....so babe what was that again about embracing it? Let's talk that through a bit, thanks.' So, with our son I made that conscious decision to ride it, to embrace it, to react softly, to allow the heat to permeate my every cell. When I decided to submit to the sensations and let that train run.....it felt a lot less like pain. It felt more like POWER! I was amazed at the strength of my body, proud of the incredible pressure of my internal muscles pushing my baby down and out. It all progressed so quickly, and felt completley manageable and peaceful. And then there he was, my boy! I saw the amazing power of the Law of Non-Resistance manifest physically. Doing more than facing my problem and choosing to full-on embrace it caused the challenge to fall away of it's own weight.
My friend Laura gave birth to her daughter in that same room at the birthing center. Her story is beautifully honest, and to me the poshest part is where she talks about making that conscious decision. Things change physically, and her baby is born soon after she makes that purposeful mental switch.
Laura & Sawyer
About three weeks ago, I attempted to add an entry to our Grubbito blog, when I was at 34 weeks. It was to be titled “The Final Countdown”. I was advised by the midwives to cease my exercise regiment until I reached 36 weeks, as the Birthing Center does not birth babies under 36 weeks. After the pre-natal visit, the baby was discovered to be extremely low and in birthing position, so they wanted me to kick up my heels, and fatten up me and the baby. That was music to my ears!! I took it easy and tried to eat heartily yet healthily.
I kept intending to update our blog so I could document how I was feeling and how the baby was doing, but I just kept getting busy at work, or Scott and I would go out, or I just plain forgot, and it never got updated.
So after making it to 36 weeks, which landed on a Wednesday, we felt like we were in the clear to have a healthy baby. The one thing I was stressed about was the state of our new house. We still had so many things in boxes sitting in our living room, every room disorganized, and the over-whelming sensation of the clock winding down. The Thursday into week 36, Kris and Amanda came over and miraculously transformed our house into a warm, charming home. With their artistic eye, they hung our photos and personalized art, and added their magic touch to bring life to our new nest.
The following Friday I woke up under the weather with a cold and called in sick to work. Coughing my head off, I did not want to disturb Scott from his rest, so I waddled into the living room to look upon our newly decorated living room. I turned on the TV and settled in to nap. Suddenly, around 8:00 am, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen that felt very similar to a strong menstrual cramp. A few seconds later, I felt fluid and was instantly concerned. I went to the restroom and found pink-tinged fluid. I think at that moment, I knew my water had broken. I alerted Scott, who was getting ready to go out of town for a meeting. He told me to call the birthing center, which wasn’t open yet. After leaving a message, a midwife, Joan, called me shortly after. I explained my “symptoms” and she said it did sound like signs of early labor. She advised Scott and I to come in when we could, but there was no need to rush. I think we both felt excited yet completely unprepared. We hadn’t opened any baby furniture or necessary items for traveling with a baby, like a car seat, an overnight bag with clothes for the baby, or a bag for he and I for our birthing center stay. This baby, if I truly was in labor, was going to be almost a month early!
I was having mild contractions, but only every hour or so. I wanted to get sustenance, so we stopped at Taco Cabana, and I felt a large gush in the drive thru. We had called our mothers to let them know, and my mother came to meet us. When we arrived at the BC, and found the room we wanted, the Santa Fe room, wasn’t ready, we were put into the Victorian birthing room. Joan and a midwife assistant, Nicole, checked me to look for Amniotic fluid. Under a microscope, amniotic fluid looks like a fern, so they told me they were “looking for my fern”. I was certain my “fern” would be loud and clear, but to my surprise, they came back in and said there was no fern. I was surprised and disappointed. What could it be, then? We were sent home and Scott was going to leave for his out of town meetings.
At home, I was still leaking and feeling cramps every hour, when the midwives called us back. They both wanted to double check me, and Joan said she just “had a feeling”. My mother and I went back to the birthing center, and I told Scott I would call him with an update, Luckily, his out of town client re-scheduled with him so he was on his way home. Joan and Natalie checked me again, and sure enough, there was my fern! I asked them what that meant and she responded, “that means you are going to have a baby this weekend!” They did have some concerns regarding my labor, because I was so early, and because I had not had the required strep test to determine if I was carrying strep that could be passed into the baby during his/her delivery. Had I been in a hospital, they would have immediately put an IV into me with antibiotics for “preventative measures”. Joan told me the BC was required to inform me of the risk I carried by not having the strep test (passing it onto the baby during the delivery which, if left untreated, could lead to pneumonia). If I felt it was necessary to have the antibiotics, I would have had to go to the hospital as the BC did not administer them. Based on how healthy I had felt throughout the entire pregnancy, and how strong our little sprout had been in utero, I felt confidant that he/she would be delivered without any unnecessary medicine. I politely declined.
Because my surges were still an hour apart, I was sent home with several herbal tinctures to help kick start labor. They wanted me to be around five minutes apart before I returned, which is called “active labor”. I was told to go on walks, drink my tinctures and to have Scott “stimulate” my nipples, as this aides in boosting labor. It was around 5PM and Scott and I were determined to get labor going into high gear. Our good friends and neighbors, Allen and Shannon Cable were having a party at their house. We decided to take our boys, Toby and Yeager, for a walk to their house for the party. In true Scott and Laura fashion, we partied to the end! Everyone was surprised we were there and so supportive. I only had one contraction while there, and it was when we were saying goodbye to Shannon. I grasped onto her and had to breathe during the contraction. She hugged me through it and sent us on our way.
Scott and I nestled into the couch, with him behind me, stimulating, and me drinking my potions every half hour. Scott diligently kept record of when each surge came. We went to bed around 11PM, with the contractions around 45 minutes apart. Throughout the night, the surges woke me up with their intensity. I would have to get out of bed and lean over the side, all while trying to breathe through the pain. At this point, the pain was tolerable and felt much like a strong menstrual cramp that resounded in my abdomen and lower back. At around 6:30 in the morning, Joan called to check on us. My contractions at one point had gotten as close as seven minutes, but had gone back up to around every 40 minutes. She was getting off duty soon and would have the next midwife contact us in a few hours. I was beginning to feel a little nervous that I wasn’t progressing quickly enough. The BC needed me to be in active labor within 24 hours of my water bag rupturing. We were nearing that marker very quickly without much progress in the surges.
Around 8:30am on Saturday, we get a phone call from the new on-call midwife, Mary. I immediately recognized her voice and demeanor as the midwife I liked the least. Throughout my pregnancy, each prenatal visit was attended by a different midwife so we would have the chance to meet each one. During my appointment with Mary, she seemed to chastise me constantly for my active life. It made me uncomfortable and I remember saying to my Mother, who had been with me during the appointment, “I hope it’s not her I get”. So when she called, I was immediately disappointed. She asked for us to come in around 10:30am, and said “Be prepared to go to the hospital”, since I still hadn’t progressed to 5 minute contractions. Looking back, I wish Mary hadn’t said those discouraging words, as labor is extremely mental. As a midwife, I would have hoped that Mary would have known that her words could have been detrimental to my state of mind. As Scott and I were getting ready to leave, I burst into tears. “Everything is going wrong!” Scott calmed my by saying, “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt and let’s have faith everything will work for us as we’ve planned”. That wouldn’t be the only time he was my soothing voice of reason and encouragement that day.
When we arrived to the BC, the room we had originally wanted, the Santa Fe room, was open and newly decorated. Now it was called the Barcelona room, which seemed fitting considering my hispanic lineage. I also took it as a first good sign. Mary checked my cervix and discovered I had dilated through the night to 3 cm. That was also good news! She gave us another deadline of dilating to at least 6 or 7 by 3:30pm. Though I was having consistent contractions, Mary indicated I was not in active labor because I was “engaging in conversation and making eye contact”. I thought this statement odd and slightly foreboding of what was to come. The room had a large bed, a big bath in the middle, it’s own bathroom and shower, and a table with chairs to sit at. We began to make ourselves comfortable and had invited both our moms to keep us company. I had prepared a playlist with my favorite soothing songs, and we listened to the music and visited, while Scott took pictures. I was still drinking my potions to get labor into full gear. Mary upped my dosage and suggested I drink castor oil. The castor oil lubricates you from the inside and is an old labor booster. We had asked the moms to leave to the waiting room so Scott could continue his stimulations. Scott asked me if he could leave to pick up something, and I gave him the green light. After drinking the disgusting mixture of castor oil and root beer, I began to feel nauseous. I was still concerned about being transferred to the hospital, so I was intent on keeping the castor oil down so it could aide in the labor effects. Scott returned form his errand and saw my demeanor had changed from nervous excitement to draining nausea. He said I looked green. Throughout the time we were there, Mary was coming and going infrequently because another woman was having a baby and Mary and her assistant, Natalie, were the only ones on duty. Not long after Scott returned to me in my nauseous state, he attempted to feed me some fresh fruit and crackers, but sadly, I was unable to keep them down. Like a volcano erupting, and maybe 45 minutes after drinking the concoction, I could not keep anything down. I threw up as hard and heartily as I ever have in my life. I immediately felt better in my stomach, but again, I was scared this would lead to my “deportation” to the hospital. Mary reappeared in the room about fifteen minutes of me losing the castor oil, and I felt like I was confessing a wrongdoing. She wanted to check my cervix to see how far I had dilated, if at all. When she was checking, we are were all delighted to hear I had progressed to about four centimeters. While she was still checking me, she told us she could “help” me get to five centimeters by manually stretching me. Without knowing what I was in for, I told her to go ahead.
OH. MY.
With Scott behind me on the bed, he had to hold me down while I screamed in pain. It felt unlike any pain I had ever experienced. It was as if she was ripping me apart from the inside. Thankfully it only lasted for a minute or so, and she was finished. “Let’s just hope it stays at a five”, is what she said. The best part of that whole experience was when Mary said, “You are going to have that baby here”! I finally felt confident that I was going to be delivering at the BC. Mary suggested we go for a walk around the parking lot of the BC. It was a beautifully sunny and somewhat brisk February day. I felt ok at this time, if not a little sore and traumatized from Mary’s “assistance”. On the way out, we saw Renee (Scott’s mom) in the waiting room and she gave us a hug of encouragement. Once outside, about ten feet from the front entrance, I had a very powerful surge. I had to grasp onto Scott, stop walking, and breathe through it. It lasted maybe a minute and was the most powerful one yet. After it stopped, we continued walking. Every few steps, I had to stop and lean against Scott while mentally trying to keep my breathing slow and even through the sensation. It was beginning to get difficult. At one point, I had to get onto all fours, with poor Scott behind me rubbing my back and saying sweet encouraging words. Unfortunately, we happened to be right next to the busy road with motorists driving by, probably wondering what the heck they were seeing! It took us about half an hour to do one loop around the BC building. I was now having contractions every few minutes. Walking back through the waiting room, I couldn’t muster one word to Renee, but managed to give her a reassuring pat. As soon as we walked into the room, I had another violent wave of nausea. I didn’t quite make it to the trash bin and ended up losing my lunch all over the floor and bed. Poor Scott had to just stand there helpless. He helped me into the clean side of the bed where I could curl into a ball and moan. I kept fluctuating between being hot and cold. Whenever a contraction came over me, I wanted no clothing touching me, but once it was over, I would be cold and want my robe back on. Scott was so great about always being there to put on or remove my robe with each surge. I would get onto all fours on the bed and squirm around trying to escape the pain. I was able to move off the bed to try to stand at the edge of the bed. I was hoping to be able to lean over the side of the bed to help alleviate some of the pain. Mary happened to be in the room while I was struggling between leaning on the side of the bed, or attempting to lay on all fours on the bed, none of which seemed to be working. During one particular strong contraction, I was standing at the edge of the bed. I immediately felt my legs want to curl under me and had the strong sensation to lay on the floor. “Squat into the contraction” Mary instructed. Scott supported me by my arms as I tried squatting during the surge. This, too, did not bring any relief.
I thought it was time to try something new. I asked Scott to fill the bathtub located right in the room. I got into the tub and immediately felt relief. Everything seemed to just get quieter. I could feel myself entering into an internal cave, withdrawing from my surroundings and left alone to focus on the long journey ahead. I was now in full blown active labor. From the cloud surrounding me, I would often hear Scott ask me questions about my well being, but I could not surface to answer, I had no concept of time or space, only of the constant surges that kept washing over me, like waves in an ocean. In the move from the bed and floor to the water, I made a conscience decision. I had earlier attempted to run away from the pain, but while in the tub, I decided to embrace it. It had not slackened in it’s intensity, yet I seemed better able to handle it while in the water. Instead of trying to move away, I decided to lie perfectly still while the surges came and simply “be”. I had read many books about natural birthing and remembered many women describing breathing low to help breathe the baby down through the diaphragm. I began moaning in a low voice with each surge that actually resembled mooing. Again, having no concept of time, I had no idea how long I was in the tub. (I later found out from Scott that I sat in the tub for about an hour and a half).
From the outside, I was calmly sitting in the tub, semi-squatting with my head tucked into the nook of my elbow. From the inside, I was concentrating on staying on top of the surges and not letting the pain overtake me. I did hear Mary come back into the room and ask Scott about my progress. I think she was concerned I had fallen asleep and was slowing down labor. She checked the water and found it had cooled considerably. She suggested to Scott to take me out of the tub. Mary wanted to check my dilation progress as well, so we moved to the bed. We discovered I had dilated to around 6 centimeters, which was promising, but still seemed like I had a marathon ahead of me.
According to Scott, I was on the bed for another hour, maybe hour and a half, mooing and moaning low through every surge, which were coming every few minutes. The pain would begin low and deep in my uterus, and spread to my back, as if I was being twisted and wrung powerfully from the inside. The next time Mary entered the room, I asked if there was a way to help alleviate the back labor I was experiencing. She suggested getting onto all fours, which I did while on the bed, all the while focusing on breathing and moaning low through each contraction. Sometimes the pain would only be in my front, other times it would spread to my back, or it would be both places at once. I just kept telling myself to not give in and to not start that downward spiral of self-doubt, fear and pain. I had survived thus far, and was succeeding!
The back pain was intensifying, so I asked Scott to start the shower for me. He set up a chair facing the wall so the water could rain down on my back. I leaned against the back of the chair and simply sat in the shower. The only thing I could do was sit and focus. Again, time did not exist for me, but I was told I was in the shower for an hour. During this time, I overheard a conversation between Mary and Scott about labor. The first thing she said was she thought I would give birth around midnight and that it was six hours away. Six more hours!?! The next thing she said could have negatively altered my focused path. Scott asked about the stages of labor and I heard Mary say that most women throw in the towel during “transition” (the dilation from 7 to 10 centimeters). She alluded that this was the most painful and that this was the point where women said they couldn’t bear it any longer. Upon hearing that, after all I felt I had already gone through and how much pain I felt I had endured and had to continue to endure, doubt crept in. If it was this hard already, what was I in for with my own transition? Her words scared me. I felt utterly alone, even with my sweet Scott constantly checking on me and giving me an encouraging caress. Not only did I have to battle the pain, I now had to battle that sly cunning enemy, doubt. The only thing I could do was just continue to breath and moan and fight for the power and control. I was able to defeat what her words almost conjured, and continue my battle with strength and resolve.
One resounding thought was the baby inside me. I knew he/she was going through their own struggle. I silently spoke to my baby and told him/her we were doing this together, and that I was right on the other side. I kept telling him/her to be strong, and I would be strong for them. It brought me comfort to know that our little one would soon be in my arms. I also envisioned myself opening wide for the baby to easily come out. With each moan, I mewed low and ended the breath with an ‘ooooooopen’ mantra. Visualizing myself opening also gave me something else to focus on other than the intense surges radiating from within.
After some time, I realized that I was shivering. Because the water was only focused on my back, I was cold from the front. (It was February and still cold outside). I knew I wanted to be moved back to the tub, but I had to swim up from my intense reverie to let Scott know. It did take a few moments for me to be able to surface and say one word “tub”. Scott immediately jumped from his shower-side vigil and began filling the tub. I felt his strong hands gently help me stand, and supported me as I waddled back towards the tub. We were alone together.
Scott lowered me into the warm water where I took my familiar position of sitting on my knees. Not five minutes after my tub immersion, I felt the most powerful and over-whelming sensation I have ever felt. I had to PUSH! I have never felt something as intense and demanding from my body. It was an order! I looked up at Scott and said “I have to push! I have to push! We were alone in the room so Scott ran out to find Mary. In those few seconds he was gone, I had an internal battle with my body. I was scared to push with no assistance, yet my body was screaming at me to bear down. Thankfully Mary, her assistant Natalie and Scott rushed into the room. Mary felt for the baby and exclaimed she could feel the top of the baby’s head. She did say she could feel a small part of my cervix still over the head, but not to worry and that I was ready to birth this baby. “Next time you feel that urge Laura, I want you to push!” Scott came behind me to hold me up by my arms so I wouldn’t go under the water. ’ The feeling came over me again to push, and I tried squeezing down. The immediate sensation was that I was pushing out of my rear end and that it was too big. I stopped pushing out of fear. Mary looked at me and said rather sternly, “put your chin into your chest, and bear down!”. I did as she instructed; put my chin in to my chest, and pushed. Without being aware I was doing it, I was making a guttural noise. I was bearing down, bearing down,bearing doooooowwwwwwn, and out came our baby’s head!! The pushing feeling subsided and there was our baby’s head hanging out in the water. He/she had so much hair!! We were all waiting for another contraction to come so I could push into it and push the rest of the baby out. Still in a dreamy haze, I wasn’t fully aware of all that was going on around me. I heard Scott ask if the baby was ok being underwater for that amount of time, and Mary told him the baby was still getting oxygen from the umbilical cord. Again, that strong powerful urge came over me to push….Scott grasped me under the arms, I put my chin down, and with a loud, primal scream that erupted out of me….I pushed our baby out into the world. It was 6:47PM, February 12th 2011.
Mary quickly grabbed the baby and placed him/her on my chest. Everything went peacefully quiet. Nothing else existed in those first few wonderful seconds.
Here I was, holding our beautiful new baby, still in the tub, legs still spread…I could feel the umbilical cord (still attached inside me) resting along my thigh. The baby whined slightly, but seemed to be calm. Time seemed to stop. “Boy that was fast, that happened so fast” Scott said. I wasn’t thinking anything except “hello there, hello my baby”. After a few minutes, Natalie asked if we wanted to see what we got….I hadn’t even thought about finding out the sex. All that mattered was this perfect, small creature resting against me. Scott helped unravel the baby from the towels the midwives had quickly wrapped around, and Natalie gently positioned the baby so Scott could see. A little girl!! All this time, all those punches, kicks, hiccups, internal caresses, all this time it was you, my sweet Baby Girl.
As for my body, I was still having strong surges, but I could tell they were lessening in intensity. We wanted to save the cord blood, so Mary and Scott gently lifted us out of the tub; me holding our baby girl, them helping me. I got onto the bed again, and Mary quickly began doing whatever she needed to do to capture the cord blood. Natalie gave me some quick tips about nursing, so I instantly put the baby’s mouth on me to nurse. Within two minutes, our new miracle was suckling away. She had latched! I felt another surge come, and was instructed by Mary to bear down once more. She assisted me by pressing into my abdomen with her hand. I felt the goopy mass gloop out me, and there was that beautiful home-organ that housed, fed and protected our baby. The wondrous placenta. I was encapsulating the placenta for my consumption, so Natalie packaged it up to be sent home with us. Mary let me know I had slightly torn and would be needing two stitches. Our baby only weighed 5lbs 11 oz, but I was still going to need to be mended. The birthing center did have lidocaine that Mary had to inject into me with a needle. Ouch. I felt that, much like you do at the dentist, only in my no-longer private areas. Even with the lidocaine, I felt every bit of those two stitches, but I was assured by Mary my husband would thank me later. ;)
While Mary was attending to me, Scott held the baby for the first time. I could see his awe and instantaneous love. It solidified for me in that moment what a wonderful father he would always be to her. He also took this moment to tell me why he had had to leave at the beginning of our labor journey. He had gone to pick up my “Push Gift” which was a beautiful Gucci diaper bag. He is always so thoughtful.
The midwives finished attending to me, so Scott came to the bed with our daughter. We all three laid there together and just cuddled. Those first few moments as a family will stay with me as one of the happiest and most complete moments of my life. After some time, we allowed our family into the room to meet the baby. We told everyone her sweet name, Sawyer Estela. After four hours of visitations, a slow and gentle shower for me and some family rest, we were told we could go home with our new baby. It was 11:45PM, February 12th, 2011.
The most powerful and most effective tool to birth a healthy baby is the mind of it's mother.
