Normy's Birth Story

Writing my (our) birth story turned out to be a far more daunting task than I had anticipated. I thought I would sit down the day after Normy’s birth and whip it out. I wanted to write it as soon as he was born to preserve the freshness of my memories. Wow, the thought that so soon after his birth I would be doing anything that did not involve snuggling my son was terribly naive. I did start this account two days after he was born but I didn’t make it past the first page. The last four weeks have been an incredible time for all of us. Smoochy and I have suddenly found ourselves aged, and not in a bad way. Suddenly all the business of life seems more weighty. And Normy, well he has learned to keep both eyes open at the same time (almost) and he has mastered the art of wrapping his parents around his little finger. We are off to a good start.


Most if not all of you reading this already know the story of my son’s birth thanks to Smoochy's play by play account live from our living room (starting June 11th). I probably wouldn’t be posting my version except I want to prove to all of you out there that I HAVE been writing lately, and this is the result! :-) My version, though offering far more details, doesn’t pack the same punch. I’m not even sure how correct my details are! I won’t lie; I referred back to the blog more than once to keep the chronology straight. It is amazing how blurry my memories are from labor. Thank God, because I’m sure if I remembered it better I might not be willing to go through it again! As it is, Sonny is so precious, that I am ready to have as many more babies as we can afford!


So with out further ado, I offer up to you the story of my first child’s birth…

Normy: Born June 12, 2006

As I sit here with my two-day-old son sleeping peacefully on my lap, inhaling his delicious baby smell, it is hard to imagine there was ever life before him. But in fact, just last week everything was different. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions regularly since about 37 weeks pregnant. This odd tightening sensation would grip my enormous belly and I would glance down to see it extended in an odd shape. The moment would pass, and it would again become soft but taunt; skin and uterus stretched to the limit with a healthy sized baby.

I was so anxious for labor to begin. I had misguidedly convinced myself that my baby would come early. I could feel the baby had dropped lower in my pelvis and the constant barrage of go-nowhere Braxton Hicks contractions kept me hoping for sooner rather than later. However, weeks 38, 39, and 40 came and went finding me still pregnant. I did a good job of staying busy and positive. After all, I reminded myself regularly this was my first pregnancy and never again would I delight in exactly the same way over every kick and movement I felt my child make in the womb. I walked my dogs; cleaned my home thoroughly and fanatically; and made passionate but awkward and slightly comical love to my hubby, Jacob.

In fact, it was after such a love-making, and four days past my “due date” that finally contractions began. I had heard my midwife Judy, made wise by over thirty years of experience and God-given intuition, warn many women that if contractions begin in the middle of the night, do your best to sleep through them or at least between them. Did I follow this sage advice? No. Unfortunately I was so thrilled that THIS WAS IT that I lay awake from one o’ clock in the morning timing contractions. I marveled at the intensity of these contractions compared with the innocuous Braxton Hicks. These at last HURT! At the time this made me so happy. Looking back now, it is easy to see I had no idea what would lie ahead, or what “hurt” truly meant.

By four o’ clock a.m. the contractions were coming at regular intervals of five minutes and lasting for about a minute each. I had lay awake watching the clock for three hours and I was getting lonely and anxious to tell Jacob that we were on our way. At last I nudged him awake and said, “I’m having contractions.” He was groggy and discombobulated, so I went on. “Wake up, and be with me…this is it.” That got him moving and after laying in bed and chatting a while we started timing contractions with his stop watch and jotting down the results on a note pad. Jacob also made his first “guest post” on my blog to let our friend and family know that I had gone into labor. He read me what he had written and we chuckled together in excitement.

Soon we had my mother awake as well. She had been sleeping in the living room on an air mattress; as she was visiting with us from out of state to share in the birth. I remember waking by her in my brightly colored flower kimono on my way to the bathroom saying, “We’re going to have a baby today.” I thought surely my baby’s birthday would be June 11th.At six o’clock a.m. we decided it was time to give my midwife a call for a heads-up.

It wasn’t until well into my pregnancy that I had decided I was dissatisfied with the care I was receiving from my OB/GYN. At what turned out to be our last check-up together she said to me, “Remember one word when you are lying on that delivery table, EPIDURAL!” Wow, she and I were not on the same page. After voraciously reading everything I could get my hands on regarding natural childbirth the last thing I wanted was to be lying on a delivery table, much less an epidural. My husband and I decided that a homebirth attended by a direct-entry midwife was ideal for our family. We were committed to providing the healthiest and gentlest possible birth to our child and ourselves.

A homebirth attended by a competent care giver was the best way to take advantage of modern medicine while retaining the sanctity and spirituality of birth. A move across country to California provided us with the opportunity to live in a community where homebirth was an alternative for parents. After our first consultation with Judy we had no question that we had made the right decision and found our care taker. She exuded knowledge, compassion, and wisdom; we canceled all our other arranged consultations!

Therefore, when we spoke with Judy that morning and she told us she was going to be unable to attend our birth I was disappointed and crestfallen. Nine days earlier she had an accident that resulted in a sprained ankle, a badly broken foot, followed by surgery. By June 11th she was still bed-ridden and in debilitating pain. Of course we had arranged a back-up midwife who we were more than comfortable with. However, a midwife and her client develop a very special bond based on trust and an open dialogue, and there was no one I would have preferred to Judy to attend my baby’s birth.

Of course, the show must go on, and Judy advised us to start our day with breakfast and urged us to keep moving. Jacob and I both showered and shaved, wanting to be clean and smooth when we met the baby. After the shower and moving around the house it seemed that my contractions were spacing out. I spoke on the phone with the backup midwife, Lis, around this time and she reassured me that it was common for contractions that had been strong at night to slow during the morning and that after a walk we might find their intensity returned. She also suggested possibly trying to take a nap. I wish that I had tried for the nap.

Enthusiastic to meet our child Jacob and I geared up for our first walk. He fixed me some cinnamon toast while I dressed and after eating we hit the pavement. The heavenly cool and humidity-free day greeted us as we step out doors. I savored the California sunshine and made note of the glorious day my son would be born into. Jacob and I moved along slowly arm and arm, we paused every few steps for a wave of painful contraction to rush over me. I remember walking up to a local market for him buy a celebratory cigar for later. I sat outside on the curb waiting for him to hurry back. I was too uncomfortable to make small talk with any neighbor we might see in the local shop.

By the time we made it back to the house I was sure we were well on our way. The contractions were more intense. I found that I could increase them if I leaned in a hands and knees position resting my chest and arms on my birthing ball. I rocked and rocked urging on the contractions, willing my baby closer. My husband spoke with the midwife over the phone again to discuss our progress. She and my husband agreed that a change of position might be a good idea to see if the contractions would keep coming if I moved around. Jacob drew me a bath and I gratefully sank into the warm water. The water was soothing and relaxing and I told my hubby that for our next baby we would have to rent a full-sized birthing tub! He took a few pictures of me submerged in the water and happily went off to post an update to our blog.

I had started the web-log or blog shortly after I found out I was pregnant. I had originally meant it to be a tool to keep in touch with our far flung family and friends. However, soon I discovered a community of “Mommy-Blogers” who detailed their trials and joys as mothers on their blog sites. Jacob updated my blog throughout the entire labor with both pictures and blurbs about our progress. The outpouring of love and encouragement we received through this modern and electronic medium was incredible. I was barely aware of what Jacob was doing online during the labor, but afterwards reading everything he wrote and all the HUNDREDS of comments made by family, friends, blog-buddies, and strangers was an absolute blessing.


Anyway, Lis was on her way and I did not want to be in the bathtub when she arrived. Why I am not sure, she certainly saw all there was to see of me by the time my baby was born! I climbed out of the tub and Jacob toweled me off and got me dressed in a tee-shirt and some comfy jammy-pants. I spent a great deal of time that day sitting on the birthing ball and bouncing and rocking to get through the contractions. Jacob was a constant source of comfort to me. He was acutely aware of how I took on each contraction and whenever he would see me start to pant or tense up he would remind me to breath in my nose and out my mouth. Over and over he would bring me back to focus and lead my breath.

At some point early that afternoon Lis our midwife joined us. There was very little she could do. She could not magically make the contractions hurt less, nor could she dilate my cervix, nor bring out my baby. My body had to do it all on its own, and it seemed it was in no rush do any of these things. I can remember a blur of the rest of the evening. I know I went for several walks with Jacob around our neighborhood, I labored on the ball, I took showers, and I tried unsuccessfully to eat. I contracted. Eventually I needed affirmation that I was getting somewhere. The pain was intense and each wave of contraction left me feeling wrecked. I was tiring. Lis finally checked me. The news was devastating. Though I was mostly effaced, I was barely once centimeter dilated. It was going to be a long night.

Around six o’clock in the evening Lis decided she would leave. The baby’s heartbeat had been strong each time she had checked, beating steady like an inexhaustible drummer. Her presence with us was unnecessary at this point and perhaps even gave us false hope. I was crestfallen and a sliver of doubt started. I can’t remember how we spent the rest of the evening. It is incredible how quickly your mind looses the details of labor. When I look back now, it is all a blur with a few dream-like images and feelings standing out among the rest.

I was vaguely aware of it getting dark. I think my mom and Jacob had put in a movie. My contractions felt incredibly strong and close together. After twenty plus hours of labor and no sleep I was beat. There is a certain state your brain slips into. You strop thinking, stop being able to communicate. My family worked hard to keep me hydrated and fed. It was much easier for me to drink than eat. Food tasted like cardboard and it was almost impossible to swallow more than a bite. Thank God they simply put thinks in front of me to eat or drink or I would have been lost. It was impossible for me to make a decision. They would ask,
“Do you want water or apple juice?”
“I don’t know.” I would moan.
“Do you want to walk around or sit on the ball?”
“I don’t know!”
“Do you want to take a shower?”
“I have no idea what I want!”

All I wanted was the pain to stop. That was not going to happen until the baby was born, and there was no rushing my cervix. It was about 10:30 or 11:00 at night when Jacob decided it was time to phone Lis. When she had left he asked how he would know it was time to call her back. She said he would just know. This is not what my logical left brained hubby wanted to hear, but was probably the perfect thing to say, because it left it up to his discretion. Jacob said that he decided to call Lis at this point because I was “starting to get really loopy” and he wanted some back-up. The night and the exhaustion were starting to set in.

I can not remember Lis’ return. However, I do recall her trying to get me comfortable so I could attempt sleep between the gut-crushing contractions. My birth team helped me into the shower. I remember sitting on Lis’ birthing stool as the warm water cascaded down my back. The contractions kept coming. I remember Jacob toweling me off, my mom bringing me clean PJs. They situated me on the couch and gave me a glass of red wine. It felt funny in my stomach, and I felt warmth from it radiating through me along with the waves of contractions.

Eventually I was ready to try lying down. Jacob and I lay down together in our bed. He spoke softly to me, reminding me I was strong, that I could do this, reminding me to breathe. He could tell when a contraction started and I began to panic. My body was fighting the pain. He told me that he and Lis had observed this happen, and they thought I was holding my body back from dilating. He urged me to let go and just accept the pain. I could not get rid of it; I had to feel it; my body was working to bring our baby down. He would say: “Breathe Baby. In through your nose out your mouth…it’s almost over…blow it away.”

I lay still, breathing, contacting, and SHAKING. God, I had almost forgotten about the violent shaking. Whenever I attempted to lie still my body would writhe with convulsions. Then I would feel the beginning of a contraction, the shaking would quiet, the contraction would reach its crescendo, and start to ebb away. As soon as the contraction had left completely the shaking would once more commence.

It was maddening. Soon I was the only one awake. My mother fell asleep curled up with my little Chihuahua on one couch and Lis was asleep on the other couch. Poor Jacob: try as he did to fight it, he also succumbed to slumber. I found I could not lie still. The trembling of my body was driving me crazy. I could not integrate the shaking and the contractions. I found myself pacing our small house. I walked from our bedroom through the living room; I passed the sleeping people like I was a ghost. I walked back and forth back and forth. I remember trying so hard to be quiet so everyone could sleep, but I was so envious of them. Hours passed or was it minutes? I started panicking. The waves of pain kept coming, I could not rest. Lis woke up; or did I wake her up? She and Jacob helped me back in to the bath. It was no use. I kept shaking. Was it involuntary or was it just the cold? They ran the water hotter.

Finally, Jacob dried me again, put me back in jammies, and led me back to bed. He soothed me and reassured me, again saying all the right words, again helping me breathe. I was finally able to let go, finally able to find a groove, and allow my body to work. I was beat, there was nothing left in me to put up a fight. My body was slack on the bed; I would slip to sleep for a few minutes until I would awake at the start of the contraction. It would begin to tighten and throb and I would say to my self, “This will pass; it doesn’t hurt; this is what your body was meant to do; it’s almost over; breathe.” As the contraction washed away sleep would take me again…until the next wave started. Over and over, sleep, contraction, sleep.

After about an hour the contraction increased in intensity and frequency so that I could not sleep through them. I started pacing again. However, now I was resigned to the pain. I would take breaks from my pacing to attempt lying down. I could never stay reclined for long. This went on until six o’clock in the morning when Lis woke up and saw me pacing. Or did I wake her up? She was reassured me that even my short rest was beneficial and now that it was morning we could start our day. I remember being relieved that it was morning, the start of something new.

My house began to stir. Jacob and my mom both awoke. There was talk of breakfast. They wanted me to eat, but the thought of food made me queasy. Normal life continued around me as I moaned and contracted. Jacob prepared scrambled eggs and toast for my mom and Lis. I wanted to sit in the kitchen with everyone while they ate. I tried to get down some apple sauce and peppermint tea. Lis thought something warm on my insides might quiet the shaking that was still tormenting me. I was not very comfortable in our wooden kitchen chairs and the smell of the eggs was not agreeing with me. I would wander in and out, back and forth between the kitchen and the living room.

After everyone had eaten, we all continued waiting for my contractions to do their job and open my cervix. I remember a very comforting moment when Lis sat behind me in a big arm chair and I sat on my birthing ball between her legs. I would bounce on the ball during contractions to open my cervix, and then I would fall back into her to rest in between. I was able to doze like that off and on for only a short while, but it was refreshing and soothing.

I hardly remember the morning. I was in and out of consciousness, deep in “labor land.” I could not focus on the conversations going on around me. Jacob says my eyes would roll up into my head and that I could hardly speak. I would be talking with someone and realize that I could not remember what we had been discussing or for how long we had been conversing. Time had no meaning.

And yet that morning I was so very aware of time. I felt that the end HAD to be in sight. I remember looking at the clock around eight o’clock and thinking that surely by noon I would have this baby. I was so anxious to start pushing, and I was certain I would be doing just that soon. I had this pressing feeling like I had to poop, but the day before I had emptied myself so thoroughly that I knew that was not the case. That did not stop me from trying, but each effort was fruitless. As uncomfortable as the feeling was, it was also oddly reassuring. I knew it was a sign that the baby was low.

The contractions were relentless, and I started wondering if I had dilated any more. Jacob and I debated about asking Lis to check me again. We were both curious to see if all of this work had brought us any closer, but I was scared that if progress had not been made that I would become discouraged, and less able to handle the pain. Eventually I decided that I wanted to know, but I told myself that if there had been no change that I would not let I get me down. I asked Lis to check me, and steeled myself for the news.

Oh my God, no progress had been made. I was still barely dilated and the bag of water had bulged out in front and was keeping the baby’s head from putting enough pressure on the cervix to open it up. I tried not to let the disappointment get the best of me, but it was like trying to tread water as a tsunami pounded into me. Lis suggested a walk to try to break the bag of water. Jacob helped me dress, grabbed me by the arm, and we started out on another walk.

I did not fell as though I had the strength to walk, much less the strength to go on with labor. I felt the panic start to return. As Jacob and I walked SLOWLY through our neighborhood I moaned, “I don’t think I can do this much longer.” The night before Lis had asked me if there was anything that was bothering me that might be holding me back. I had told her then that I was scared that I would not be able to handle the pain and that I would want to go to the hospital for an epidural. I had put so much into having a natural birth, I was afraid I would disappoint myself and everyone else. That fear returned to me the next day. I told Jacob that I wanted to go to the hospital, I was exhausted, I just wanted the pain to stop. I felt the tears welling up. I admitted to him that I no longer even cared about meeting the baby; all I wanted was to sleep.


Without Jacob by my side I would have abandoned everything I had planned and prepared for; I think I would have gone to the hospital. He simply refused me; the hospital was not an option. He reminded me of how much this natural birth meant to me, to us. He assured me that I could do this; all of my research, all of my reading, everything I had done for the last ten months had been in preparation for this. And now, just because it was harder than I had anticipated, did not mean that I could not do it. My body was meant to birth this baby. He asked me who I knew that had delivered their babies naturally. I answered my mom, his mom, and his stepmother. “Yes,” he said, “and they had their babies naturally because there was no other choice, an epidural was not an option. And it’s not an option for you either. I won’t let you, you would never forgive yourself.” Of course he was right; I would have never forgiven myself. If I had gone to the hospital it would have been a major defeat, and both my self esteem and my baby’s health would have suffered.

He continued with the pep talk as we crawled our way through our neighborhood park. He told me to imagine I had set out to climb a mountain; labor was the mountain. Each contraction I had was once step up the mountain. It may not be a big step, but each step, each contraction was progress. For the rest of the day as the contractions wracked my body he would say, “You’re climbing, remember you’re climbing.” It was though I was lost, cut loose and floating out in a sea of pain and Jacob was a rope tied around my waist slowly pulling me back to shore. As we walked back towards our house he kept talking, kept reassuring me. He came up with the idea of naming my cervix so that we could properly curse it for not opening. It sounds kind of silly now but he named my cervix Sam, Sam the Cervix and we damned him all the way home.

Just before we reached our street I felt a gush of warm water flow out of me. In shock I said, “I think my water just broke, either that or I just peed myself.” When we made it home I told Lis and my mom what had happened. Everyone was a little relieved to hear about my water breaking. I had a pad on at the time luckily, and as gross as it sounds I gave the pad to Lis to inspect to see if she thought it was pee or amniotic fluid. She concluded it was the later, and it did much to lift my spirits. We were climbing the mountain.

However, there was a lot more work ahead of us. My contractions were unrelenting. They started slamming into me one after another so that there was no break in between them. I felt as though I was contracting for fifteen or twenty minutes solid without reprieve. I paced back and forth moaning, with my eyes goggling around in my head. I remember staring at Lis where she was reading in the kitchen, begging with my eyes for her to DO SOMETHING! Bless her heart; there was nothing she or anyone else could do. I paced, I took showers, I took walks outside, and I spent more time bouncing on the birthing ball. I breathed through endless contractions.

Noon came and went, and my baby still had not been born. The pressure in my pelvis and rectum was horrible; I kept saying “I really feel like I have to poop!” But nothing would happen when I tried. It was the pressure of the baby, but still not enough yet to dilate my cervix or force me to push. Yet the contractions kept on and on. Finally Lis suggested to change the atmosphere that she and my mom would take our dogs on a walk to give Jacob and I alone time. She encouraged us to smooch, to cuddle, and to dance. Even through the haze of labor land I thought, “Ahh, very Spiritual Midwifery!” However it was a fleeting thought, and if Jacob had not taken the lead I would have just continued pacing the house.

The memories of labor are so fuzzy! I can only recall bits of things as I remember the tail end of a dream right before awakening. I know we kissed and cuddled. He spoke lovingly to me of how well I was doing and how wonderful it was going to be to meet our baby. If I had a video of this time we spent together I think it would reveal some of the tenderest moments of our relationship. I know he repeated some of the same things over and over to me. He told me that I was strong, that he was proud of me, that I could do this. Because he told me repeatedly I heard him and I believed him. He danced with me, he held me, and he rocked me in his arms. He brought me through each moment of that labor.


When my mom and Lis returned we were still dancing. They had a surprise for me. Judy, my original midwife, had arrived! What a relief and a joy. I was filled with happiness at the sight of her. She had the metal pin removed from her foot the day before and was given a more mobile cast. In a way it was beneficial to have such a long labor so that she was able to participate in the birth! We updated her on my progress and settled in with renewed vigor.

I believe Judy was with us for at least a few hours before I started feeling the urge to push. Her presence lifted everyone’s mood. We gathered in our living room and chatted while my contractions chugged along. Rather everyone else chatted while my eyes rolled around the back of my head. Jacob even played some very upbeat music to motivate us. My birth team was able to get me to relax enough to dance a little to a couple of my favorite songs. It must have been quite a sight to see me disheveled and enormously pregnant shuffling and gyrating (slowly) in our living room. For the rest of my life Gnarles Barkley’s Crazy and KT Tunstall’s Black Horse and the Cherry Tree (which we call the Woo-Hoo Song) will always make me think of that day.

The urge to push came upon me gradually. The pressure and the “OH LORD, I HAVE TO POOP” feeling grew and grew. By the late afternoon I really thought I had to go #2. I sat down on the toilet to give her a go, and found my uterus slamming down into a push like nothing I had experienced before. “I’m pushing!” I hollered out to everyone just outside the door. However, there was nothing in me to poop, and I was not 100% ready to actually begin pushing out the baby. I think it was about this time (before or after) that I asked Judy to check me. I was shocked to find out that I was eight centimeters dilated, and yet the bag of water was still intact and bulging out of my cervix. THAT is what was causing all the pressure! I guess before it HAD just been pee!

This time I was not discouraged whatsoever by the findings of the internal exam. I was surprised that the water still had not broken, but the knowledge that I was so far dilated was like a breath of fresh air. For the first time in over a day I finally knew that I could birth this baby naturally. We all kept at it. I kept contracting, and everyone else kept encouraging me and offering me plenty to drink. I drank water, apple juice, and a citrus tasting vitamin C drink the midwives provided. I was also reminded to pee out all the fluid I had been taking in. It was sitting on the toilet trying to do just that when a particularly hard contraction gripped my uterus and again I felt that overwhelming sensation of it slamming downward. Jacob was standing in the doorway at the time, so can testify to the tremendous POP followed by a gush of water into the toilet. THAT was my water breaking!

Instantly labor switched over into high gear. I thought I had been having strong contractions before, but they were nothing compared to the intensity of the contractions that followed my water breaking. Jacob described them as “Exorcist meets Jerry’s Kids contractions.” I moaned and groaned through these for maybe an hour or so. Someone spread out a vinyl tablecloth upside-down on our white living room carpet to protect it. I was going to have the baby right there! Immediately after the water broke the fog of labor land cleared and I seemed to return from afar to my body. Jacob later claimed that it was at that moment that he finally got his wife back. The contractions began to slow down and spread out. We took this a sign that I was fully dilated and I was given the go ahead to push whenever I could not ignore the urge.

I was grateful for the reprieve from contractions, but I was anxious to start pushing. I was ready to hold my baby! I felt so much pressure in my pelvis and rectum, that I was desperate to start to push to relieve the intense feeling. I began with a few practice pushes on the toilet. I could feel my uterus involuntarily push when I had a strong contraction. And yet in between contractions I was fine, I could smile and joke, and engage with everyone around me. I tried pushing with each contraction in several different positions. I used the birthing ball to try some pushes on my knees, and Jacob supported me trough some squatting pushes.

While pushing I made the most incredible, loud, gut wrenching grunts. The noises coming out of me were low guttural growls. Supposedly I sounded pretty funny. Jacob had to hold back to keep from laughing each time I got going. Thankfully he restrained himself. This was serious business. I certainly did not care what I sounded like; I had a job to do! In the midst of all this noise my landlady came and knocked on our door. She had very thoughtfully prepared us an evening meal! My mom answered and thanked her profusely for the food. I continued mooing with all my strength the whole time she was standing there; I can only imagine what she thought!

Though my contractions were strong, after an hour of pushing it did not feel like I was moving anything inside of me. I was growing anxious that I was not getting any closer to the birth. I expressed to Judy that I felt like my pushes were not getting anywhere and I asked her to check me. I was worried that I had been overanxious and that I was pushing on an incompletely dilated cervix. Sure enough, that was the case. I was only dilated to nine centimeters and there was a lip of cervix holing back the baby. To remedy the situation Judy asked that I lie on my side and pant through about ten contractions in order to take pressure off my cervix so that the contractions could open it up. She warned me that this would take all of my concentration and be very painful. She was right.

The contractions were unbearable on my side. Whereas before I had been pushing with them and working with them, now I was contradicting my body’s instinct. It was torture. I managed to pant through the first two contractions, but that was it. With each contraction after that my uterus would involuntarily clamp down on its own accord and I was powerless to stop it. I would cry out “I’m pushing! Fuck! Fuck! I can’t help it.” It felt like my entire body would spasm and jerk out of my control. They told me as long as I did not push along with my body our efforts would still be beneficial. “Just a few more, just a few more contractions” they would urge me. Very quickly I had reached my limit; I could no longer passively greet each contraction. I begged Judy to check me again; I could not bear anymore of this.

She found that there was still a lip, but while she was checking her fingers had startled the baby and he moved his head in response to her touch. This was a tremendous help because his head had not been presenting at the right angle. Once he moved his position was corrected. Suddenly he was putting the correct pressure on my cervix. Judy suggested that we try pushing with the contractions while she manually maneuvered the lip of my cervix over the baby’s head. This was a tactic I could work with. I found myself on my back holding on to the backs of my knees while Judy manipulated my cervix. I pushed with desperation. This simply HAD to work, I could not return to blowing past contractions. I wanted to push! And push I did, with everything inside me. Eureka! After God only knows how many of such pushes the baby’s head cleared the cervix and I was dilated to ten centimeters! At last!

I had envisioned pushing the baby out while I squatted. However, my pushes were most effective when I was in the position we used to maneuver my cervix. Jacob sat behind me on our ottoman, and I got down to work. Looking back it seems like I pushed for maybe fifteen minutes but in fact it was over two hours! Once I was fully dilated I could really feel progress as I pushed. With each contraction I pulled my knees back and pushed with all my strength. Judy and Lis told me to push as though I was pooping, and I actually visualized taking an enormous crap. I think Judy might have even touched my anus and said, “Push right here!” It was a great was to focus my effort. Birth is not a clean business!

I could feel the baby move through me as I pushed and everyone started to see a bulging at my perineum. It was very encouraging to feel everyone’s excitement as the baby made everything in my bottom swell with pressure. I sure cold feel it! Finally they said they could see a dime size bit of his head poking through. I was so focused at that point I can not clearly remember what was said around me, but the midwives did a great job of coaching me to push at the right tempo, and helping me rest when I needed to.

After each contraction and series of pushes the baby would recede a little. I tried to keep him in place with my vaginal muscles, but it really was a two step forward one step back process. However, it was not long after the first little glimpse of his hair that he started to crown. It was an amazing feeling of stretching and fullness in my vagina. It did hurt, but I was so focused on the baby it did not over whelm me.
“What color is hi hair?” Jacob asked. We had guessed the baby would be blonde. But it was a dark head of hair peeking out us. My mom was in the kitchen getting the warm wash cloth for a perennial compress as the baby started to crown.

I shouted “Mom! Come here!” as a contraction forced me to push.

One of the midwives mentioned, “She (referring to me) wants the compress!”

“No,” I said, “I just don’t want her to miss this!”

As the baby’s head started to emerge, one of the midwives instructed me to place my hand on his head. I shook my head “No.” I was so focused on pushing with all my might I did not want to be distracted. Thankfully they forced me to place my hand there so that I could regulate the speed at which I delivered him.

What an incredible feeling! The moment my fingers touched the top of his wet little head my heart skipped a beat. My baby! Oh Lord, this was my baby! He was real! I could feel him! My heart felt like it would explode with love and excitement.

Judy and Lis urged me to go slowly. So when the next contraction swept through me I gave a gentle push. His head barely budged. Judy told me I was going to have to give it a little more than that. I gave it a little more juice, and slowly slowly my body stretched, and into my hand my baby’s precious little head emerged. Jacob later related how at first he thought by the looks of it the baby was going to have a tiny head, but then it kept coming, and coming, and coming. The poor kid had quite a cone-head from his long trip out!

I remember the charge of excitement in the room once the baby’s head was free of my body. I was to wait until the next contraction to push out his body, and yet I was not to delay because this is a critical time in birth, and must happen precipitously. I do not think I waited for the next contraction; I took a short pause the length of a deep breath and renewed my efforts. I had thought the body was supposed to be easier to deliver than the head, but my broad shouldered boy, did not come easily. Thankfully he did not get stuck, and after several grunts and the pop of a tear my baby was born onto a gauze covered pillow, on our living room floor.

A tidal wave of emotion hit me: joy, love, relief! He did not cry right away but I was never worried. I reached down to touch my purple little man who lay grunting on the pillow. There was a pause, a moment of hesitation. I think both Jacob and I thought the midwives would pick him up first. When they did not I realized this was OUR baby; it was up to us. I felt incapable of it myself because of the position I was in so said, “Jacob, puck up our baby.” My husband, nudged out of his daze, reached down and lifted our baby to my chest.

“Oh baby! Oh Baby! Hi Baby!” was all I could say. I was SO HAPPY!

“Is he OK?” Jacob asked. The baby still had not let out a good cry and he seemed to be struggling with a lot of mucus.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine. Just rub him and talk to him.” Judy assured us.

“Hello Jacob! Hello Sonny! Welcome to the world! It’s not so bad out here!” We cooed and kissed and cuddled with out new baby and before you know it he let out a whimpering little cry. Our baby was perfect, and Jacob and I had instantly fallen head over heal in love with him. Little Jacob was not immediately interested in nursing; he was tired from his long struggle through the birth canal. Big Jacob however, was immediately interested in holding his new son, so he cut the cord as soon as it stopped pulsing. Baby Jacob was on his own!


With Baby Jacob scooped up into his adoring father’s arms, the midwives turned their attention to birthing the placenta. It did not immediately fall out as they hoped it might when I first stood up. Further, contractions did not resume. Lis suggested that I try to pee in order to make room inside for the placenta to descend. However, my vagina was throbbing with an intense ache from the birth and I could not release enough to pee, even when a catheter was threatened. We decided to give nursing another go, but the baby just was not up for it yet. It was not until a little while later, after Judy massaged my uterus and coaxed the cord with gentle tugs that we finally delivered the placenta into a bowl with a healthy sounding PLOP!

After I had taken a shower, the last thing to attend to was my stitches. I had a small tear up by my clitoris and then quite a nasty tear inside along the backside of my perennial wall (I think that’s where it was anyhow). Everyone gathered into the bedroom for the stitching. Jacob sat on the bed with the baby to distract me while the midwives prepped me for the stitches. My vagina was so numb that I did not even feel the several shots of Lidocaine Judy administered. Judy and Lis discussed the virtue of different needle sizes while my husband and I stared adoringly at our baby. It was not long before I was mended and ready to completely relax with my newly expanded family.


I experienced the most blissful moment of serenity when my infant son and I snuggled together on our sofa. I had reached the top of the mountain. Natural childbirth was a goal I had set for the health and well being of my baby. And yet I had also wanted to experience complete actualization of myself as a woman. I had no idea how challenging childbirth would be. However, thanks to the love and support of my husband, mother and, two talented midwives I was able to stay true to myself and my baby. The experience has given me a new sense of pride, and a tremendous feeling of accomplishment. However, too much emphasis should not be put on the experience. The experience is fleeting; even the longest of labors will remain only as blurred memories. What lasts in the child, and I can rejoice that my baby came into the world in the healthiest and gentelest way possible.