My entire life I knew that mothering would be my primary purpose. As a young girl I would stuff pillows under my shirt, bemoaning the burdens of pregnancy. As a teenager, I wore handmade maternity clothes and I could feel that beautiful, yet still elusive, round belly that I carried with my heart. When my friends hung images of rock idols Like Curt Cobain and Bono in their lockers, I had a cut out from a natural health magazine of a lovely goddess pregnant woman, adorn in flowing silk in a field of wildflowers. I waited patiently through my formative years for the day I too would carry a life inside my body.
My first two pregnancies were indeed planted by fate, but still I was waiting. Waiting unknowingly and still wandering patiently. My logical mind warned me that my family was complete. Babies cost money and time and energy. I was sure another child would overdraft me on all accounts. So when I realized I was pregnant with my third child, my heart skipped a beat. It didn't quite sink, but simply fluttered about with doubt and disbelief. How could I possibly create and care for yet another person? My husband threw up the moment he found out and although he did not know it, and probably didn't even mean it, his confidence and conviction that followed gave me strength to be courageous.
My pregnancy was taxing to say the least. Not physically, as I seem to be given a gift to carry my babies with the grace of the mother goddess herself. But emotionally I carried a burden that I was certain would crush my child and I together until there was nothing left but a few glowing embers and 2 forgotten souls. Still, everyday I woke up and every day that life inside of me prompted me to just keep going. Just keep moving forward, just keep breathing, just keep walking, and I promise you mama, we'll make it together. And I listened. Silent and sullen, still I carried on.
The "holiday season" which for us begins in September, approached and tasks of celebration occupied my mind. Pregnant and tired to my core I had to continue providing jubilant comforts to my two boys. I inhaled and breathed out birthday wishes. I threw together Halloween costumes, I roasted the turkey, I gave to the poor, I tended to family … and everyday I thanked God for the inspiration inside of me. Christmas grew closer and so did my due date. Although technically I was not "due" until January, everything told me to be ready as the year came to its close. My boys were born early and this baby would be as well. People warned me not to get my hopes up - I could go overdue. I sheepishly replied that I would be happy to get to the New Year. Inside I begged my baby to wait until after Santa came.
Around the solstice I felt my body getting ready. Contractions would interrupt my day and I would frantically wrap presents between them. Irrational I know, but I did not want my boys first memories of their sibling to be the one where he/she stole the glory of childhood Christmas magic. And it wasn't. We celebrated that holy Sunday with the usual extravagance as the typical bombardment of retail splendor was rained upon them. Not by me or Kris Kringle, of course - the kids know we are both far too frugal to engage in that insanity. But so are the woes of two small boys cursed with the fate of being the FIRST. The first children, the first grandchildren, the first nephews … the first and most important all around. Yes, Christmas past and I spent the next few days wading through the aftermath and cursing myself for my delay. Now how in the world would I ever get the house back in order enough to give birth?!
But each day passed and each contraction prompted me slowly to fluff up the fillers in my nest. My bathroom was, for all intents and purposes, immaculate! A simple victory in the grand scheme of things, but important none the less.
Wednesday night was my husband's last show of the season and a milestone we needed to surpass. So on that evening when the contractions started piling on top of one another, I sat back and drank a few sips of wine. When I tried to reach him on his cell phone but couldn't, I firmly told this baby to wait a little longer. Many things I may have thought of that man over the years, but in my heart I knew that birthing without him was simply not an option. I went to bed and woke with the sun a little bit surprised that the baby listened.
Thursday morning I traveled to Kate's for what would be my last prenatal visit. I told her and Merle of all the activity and although excited and reassuring, they were slightly preoccupied. Another mom was in labor and so they already had an impending birth that day. Wait baby wait, just a little while longer. Such a good baby I had because it did listen. The day carried on without much excitement. I did some chores, checked and double checked my birth supplies, and I took an unusually long nap.
Around dinner time I started to feel some activity and haphazardly timed the contractions as I had for so many weeks before. 12 minutes … 10 minutes … 18 minutes … no big deal. So I continued with my obligations. I cooked, I did some laundry, I milled about. My husband stopped in to eat and I told him what was happening. He looked at me sideways with a half smile and asked "Is this it?" "It could be" I replied and continued with my business. The contractions had basically subsided and I assured him that it would be fine for him to continue the rest of the lessons he had scheduled for the evening.
I had one last project on my list of "things to do before baby comes". My friend Kristie in California had commissioned me to design a bag with the most wonderful Frida Khalo fabric. While he was gone I lovingly stitched the last seams and tied on the perfect beads for the zipper pull. At that, he walked in the door proclaiming his lessons cancelled (in fact he cancelled because he did not want to be away from me). I sat back, relaxed and proclaimed to myself, "I'm done. I finished everything. I can have a baby now."
Almost momentarily the contractions came back with more regularity. They did not hurt, not in the least, but they were building for certain. They skipped closer together with long breaks in between. I decided to call the midwives to give them a heads up. It was around 8:30 when I spoke to Merle. They were finishing up the birth of a baby boy and assured me they were ready if I needed them.
I decided to sit back in a bath and collect myself for the night ahead. I was relaxed and excited. The baby danced quietly in my belly and I relished that these would probably be the last moments we would have alone, together as one. My oldest son came home from an evening of ice skating with his uncle and was beaming from the possibilities. He didn't want to go to bed for fear that he might miss the birth. Dad assured him that we would wake him when the time came and tucked him in.
My indifference to the world at that time should have been a sure sign of things to come, but I was still caught up in the fact that this had gone on for weeks and could continue for some time to come. I got out of the tub and instead of reaching for a glorified patchwork dress that I painstakingly created (as I had envisioned myself birthing in), I pulled on a simple faded maternity dress that was comfortable and familiar. My husband buzzed about, asking me if I wanted him to steam clean the rugs and other such things. None of that really mattered anymore though. I had everything I needed. I was safe and warm and was ready for whatever the universe had to give me.
I called Tyler and assured her that things were slow and surely I would make it until morning when she got off of work. I was happy and patient. Kate called to check in around 11. They were home and ready to jump when I said go. I told her that although I was still having contractions, they were peaceful and I was going to sleep for a while. I crawled into bed and sunk into the comfort of my soft pillows. I snuggled up to my younger son and already began to apologize for the uneasiness I was about to unleash upon his little life. I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of trickling waterfalls and tall oak trees. The water nymph was knocking on the door to my heart and I silently, gracefully let her in.
Around 1 am I awoke to stronger and closer contractions. Still I felt no pain and into my mind came one simple verse … I WILL BIRTH IN PEACE … my mind sang and I held onto it as my mantra. I lit some candles and with each single flame I repeated it to myself reassuringly … I WILL BIRTH IN PEACE.
I called Kate and she quickly replied "Ok, we are on our way." I put on a cd and quietly swayed to the soft rhythms. My husband woke up and peered across the room. Little words needed to be spoken. He smiled brightly and told me he was going to try and catch just a little more sleep. The midwives arrived in the blink of an eye. It was a balmy night, not too bitterly cold with a hint of fog. I was thrilled to see them and felt protected, loved and secure. They set up their gear and chatted softly. They put on a pot of water to boil, which consequently set off the smoke alarm. Kate, being a woman of quick action, yanked it from the ceiling and continued with her business.
The waves began coming more quickly and soon I was breathing through each surge. I rocked on the birth ball and held tight to my mantra I WILL BIRTH IN PEACE. My husband came and rocked with me and held me as I surrendered in his strong knowing arms. We had done this before I assured myself, and surely we could make it through again, together. The contractions continued to rush over me and I made my way to the bathroom. I clung to the sink as one, two, three, four contractions slammed down on me. I felt doubt as I pondered the notion of continuing on for several more hours. It seemed that active labor had just begun. Surely birth could not be so close as to be able to reach out and touch it.
I stumbled back to the bedroom and dropped on my hands and knees as another one came. I rocked and moaned and with a burst my waters broke. In the light of the bathroom again I realized that it was dark and green and thick. I looked up at him with terror in my eyes. He tried to reassure me and I muttered "No. Meconium. Its not ok." At that Kate entered the room. She quickly, yet tenderly grabbed the Doppler and I felt such relief to hear the strong, solid blipblipblip of my baby's heartbeat. She reassured me that everything was ok and I remember specifically feeling such pride in her. How she had grown as a woman, a midwife and my friend since our last birth together 2 years earlier. Not an ounce of nervousness, not a single step missed. Kate went to scrub the green from the carpet and Merle came in to check on me. Unable to articulate, I simply nodded to the green. I was still scared and Merle gingerly looked into my eyes. "Is it ok?" I asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer. She smiled "yes. It's fine. The baby is right here. It's ok." and I believed her.
Kate stood up and announced, "If you son wants to be present for the birth we need to wake him NOW." and Dad went off to rouse him. I sat on the toilet and moaned and was afraid I might scare my little boy. He appeared in the doorway, half sleeping but glowing. I looked at him and gained courage from his certainty. His ear to ear grin was enough to know that I could do this.
Kate asked me to scoot forward off the toilet as the baby continued to descend. My husband came and sat behind me and held me up in a high squat. I leaned back into his might and surrendered. I WILL BIRTH IN PEACE. I yelled owowowowow and Kate took my hand. She locked eyes and gently commiserated. She affirmed my pain and it was nice to be acknowledged and supported. I felt the baby in the birth canal and pushed tentatively. The head emerged and I looked up to my oldest son, still beaming in the light. Everyone smiled as the baby turned to corkscrew its way down the passage. I pushed again, this time hard and strong. I pushed and out she slid, into loving hands.
I released my body back into dad's arms and he held me up as we all let out a collective sigh of joy. My baby was blue, but vibrant! Her cord was still short and Kate cradled her onto my belly. I gazed upon the round face and took the time to just relax and breathe. My son still stood proudly at the door, nearly bursting out if his skin. He grabbed the camera and took the first pictures of his new sibling.
Several minutes had passed and we didn't know if we had a boy baby or a girl baby, so my son came closer to make the announcement. Kate pulled back the blanket and much to my surprise … there was a YONI! Dad prompted son to check and he was excited to proclaim it was a girl. A BABY GIRL!
I made my way to the bed and pulled her close. She nuzzled at my breast but didn't latch on. She wasn't like her brothers in that regard. She was patient and gentle. I birthed the placenta and laid back with an energy buzzing through me. I had a girl baby! I watched her as she slowly made her transition to the earth side. She took her time and slowly unfolded her personality.
Everyone gathered around to examine her placenta home. Merle proudly held it up and Rachael came over to see it up close. It was brilliant and healthy. When the cord stopped pulsing, my son was ready to release her to the world. The cord was thick and rubbery and it took effort for his little hands to make the cut, yet he proudly proceeded. I laid with her by my side and soon she latched on tight for her first meal. I felt energetic and raw. This little tiny life was no longer mine, but all of ours. Before long I got up to shower and, petty as it may be, I felt ecstatic pride in my pearly clean bathroom! My bathtub! My home! My homebirth! A wondrous thing from such simple pleasures!
After I was cleaned up and cozy in my new flannel pjs, we came together once again to weigh her. A big girl she was - 8 lbs 1 oz. My tiny body had grown a healthy, hearty baby girl and birthed her without so much as a tiny tear. Everything was winding down and my younger son came stumbling into the room, blurry eyed and sleepy. He fell hopelessly into Rachael's arms (who was largely pregnant with her own baby girl) and looked up in confused horror when he realized it wasn't mama. Dad picked him up and carried him to me and we introduced him to his baby sister. He was disenchanted and unimpressed. He really just wanted to go back to bed. The midwives packed up and left as effortlessly as they had come. My family snuggled down together and went to sleep with smiles …
And so it was, the birth of my water nymph. A moment so simple and primitive, yet utterly complete. In that flash of time, that instance I had waited my entire life for, everything was perfect. My husband was with me holding me up. My first born son was smiling and full of love and admiration. My second born child was peaceful and serene. I was surrounded by a circle of loving, tender mother goddess women. I was strong and dazzling. And I had a daughter. A little girl to cherish and to teach all the wonders of the mother goddess ways. If only for that fleeting moment … I was whole … I was happy … I was blessed.
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