Anthony was just meant to be born at home.  His namesake, my late father, was born at home.  My due date, May 4^th, was also my father’s birthday.  Conceived in a tipi in the Fingers Lakes region of NY last August, his arrival was an exclamation point at the end of a very natural and enjoyable pregnancy. 

     I did not start out planning a homebirth; at least not out loud.  However, for 2 years since my daughter Ayla’s birth in a hospital and increased awareness about childbirth, I swore that if I had another child, he or she would be born at home.  Michael and I both knew that this baby was the last one for us.  Knowing that really made me examine every birthing option I had.  It made me connect to my body and my baby in a much deeper and more purposeful way than I did during my first pregnancy.  I was turning my hindsight forward, especially about where, how, and with whom I would give birth.   Not only was I studying the magic of natural homebirth, I was laboring over every scenario and milking every phase of my pregnancy with belly painting, prenatal yoga, belly casting, birth art, and a blessingway.  I was consumed with creating a beautiful and powerful experience, one that would sustain me and my exit out of my childbearing years.

 

     I joke that my labor started in the 6^th or 7^th month because I fiercely started nesting and paying homage to my pregnancy.  We built a giant pregnant snow-mama in late winter.   During the early spring, I could swear the nesting cardinals and catbirds in my yard were winking knowingly at me.  In addition to cleaning and decluttering, I was drawn to having my hands in the soil.  Ayla, Mikey, and I spent our days turning over the earth, planting vegetables, herbs, and a butterfly garden.  Our fruit trees were beginning to bloom and I imagined what our yard would look like in early May, when our baby was due.  The signs and symbols of fertility surrounded me.  

 

      As my due date approached, I became more and more excited about going into labor.  Where would I be?  Would Ayla witness her brother’s emergence as we hoped?  Would he come out on May 4^th?  Well, the answer to the last question was no.  Little Anthony had different plans (I’m sure my Dad’s OK with this!)

 

      Fourteen days past my due date I went into labor.  I was certainly getting anxious during those last two weeks.  It was the wisdom of my midwife Cara Muhlhahn, the calm support and empathy of my doula Kim Collins, and words of trusting my body from yoga instructor Gayle Lemke that kept me focused and smiling.  Of course, Mikey told me it was just plain silly to worry about anything.

 

    .  Michael and I were just sitting on the couch together about 10:30pm Saturday night, May 17^th when I started having small but painful contractions.   They were coming quickly but only lasting 15 seconds.  Cara suspected it was not the real thing yet, but real would be coming!  Just 20 minutes later, I felt (and heard, I swear) a massive “POP” and figured my water broke…but there was no water.  However, I was soon on my knees moaning to contractions that were less than 2 minutes apart and sustained for 50 seconds or so.  Cara listened to my voice, moans, and reactions on the phone and then said she was on her way.  Mikey also called Kim who headed over immediately.  I found that “child’s pose” was the only position I could tolerate.  But very soon I told Mikey to fill the tub…I needed to be in water…now!   I was already in the tub when Kim arrived.  She lit my favorite candles and started the music I chose to birth to, a deep and slow Buddhist chant.  Kim and Mikey also hung up lots of birth art that my friends painted for me during my Blessingway.  Our bathroom was transformed into a beautiful birthing suite. 

 

All of a sudden I told Kim I was pushing!  My body just started and I totally went with it.  I felt no fear and so I just did whatever my body told me to do; and it felt really good.  I’m not sure if I physically felt good, or the fact that I was at ease felt good.  I would have to say it was the first time I really let myself go and just be in each moment.  It all felt so perfect and my mind was absolutely sharp and focused.   I’ve heard of the rest between contractions, but didn’t really know that it can be a deep peaceful rest.  I would come close to a sleep-like state between each contraction; more restful and restorative than most massages I’ve received.  I wish more women knew about that part.  Our bodies absolutely give us the break and comfort needed to come down from the last contraction and prepare for the next.  That was really amazing!

 

By now I was squatting in the tub with my head resting on my arms on the side of the tub (we have a little seat built in that was a perfect space to rest my head on a pillow and lean into).   This forward squat was the only place I wanted to be.  I tried a few other positions, but would quickly drop back here.  It worked.  I felt wide open and supported as I rocked and swayed my hips from side to side.   Cara applied counter pressure along my back the whole time which felt great.  That was the only hands on help I received.   Kim was so encouraging and telling me my sounds were great and productive and she would give me sips of raspberry leaf tea, water, and anything else I needed.  I could’ve sworn my vocalizing could wake the neighborhood…but didn’t care at all at the time.   It felt great to have these sounds come out of me…out of somewhere I’ve never tapped into before.  They really did make me almost float over each contraction.  Instead of tensing up and holding back in pain, I used my voice to stay just ahead of each contraction like a surfer on a wave.   I loved the wildness of moaning and feeling my body push, open, and then rest.   During each pregnancy, I spent some time with wolves at a preserve so that my unborn babies could hear and feel the howls of the packs.  It’s a sound that has always penetrated deep into my body and I wanted my babies to have that primal sensory experience while cuddled in a dark, sacred place.   My uninhibited bellows during labor were perhaps a connection to the natural world which is so important to me.  And birthing in a dark, quiet place among trusted women heightened the sense that I was part of something ancient.  Our three dogs also seemed to be tuned into what was going on.  They lay quietly outside the bathroom watching with  protective eyes.  (so I’m told) 

 

All the relaxation techniques I learned in prenatal yoga really helped me to focus on each contraction and get through it fairly easily.  The pain was there, but the sensations of power and control were bigger than the pain.  I remember saying out loud at some point “I can do this.”  It just came out.  I think I realized at that point that I was in control and everything would go smoothly.

 

A whole new set of sensations appeared when I felt the baby actually descending through my birth canal.  This was really awesome.  Aside from feeling like I was passing a bowel movement the size of Texas, I felt extreme pleasure along with pain during each contraction.  There seemed to be a “spot” that felt so good under pressure that I found the rests between contractions were the hard parts, and I eagerly wanted another contraction to get that feeling back.  I was almost giddy at the same time I was bearing down in pain!

I do remember those last few pushes with the ring of fire did really hurt and while my voice climbed a few octaves I got desperate to get the baby out!

 

When he emerged I felt a total burst of euphoria and started laughing uncontrollably.  Cara placed him in my arms and on my chest and we both soaked in the warm water.  I was saying all kinds of things about how amazing and unbelievable and awesome and beautiful this experience was.  The oxytocin was surging through me at this point and I just couldn’t stop laughing.   Orgasmic birth!  There was such delight in our cozy bathroom and Anthony was so perfect. After getting myself together I realized I hadn’t looked at my baby’s face yet!  I gently lifted him and his big dark almond shaped eyes looked directly into mine in the dim candlelight.  Another surge of oxytocin pumped through me and we were bonded for life.  The whole thing, from first contraction to birth, lasted 3 hours.

 

About 15 peaceful minutes later, some contractions started again.  I pushed during the third one and my placenta slipped out into the water.  No one needed to help or coach.  My body just did this while we chatted and ogled the new baby.  We had fun inspecting the placenta and Michael cut the umbilical cord a while after.  (Yes, I saved it all for print making and tree planting)

 

What came next was also wonderful and unexpected.  Kim bathed me in the shower and wrapped me in warm towels straight out of the dryer.  Some clothes were picked out and waiting and as I was carefully led to my own bed, Cara draped me in a freshly heated sheet.  I really felt like a queen and the meaning of midwife, “with woman,” really hit me.  I was being deeply nurtured by women, those who had this experience before me.  That connection means a lot to me and is another powerful example of natural history and primal relationships.

 

The next few hours were exciting and celebratory as everyone gathered around our bed and watched Cara examine, weigh, swaddle and coddle the baby.  Kim fed me, kept the laundry going, and filmed these memorable moments.   It was 3am by now and my sister and her husband arrived as well as Michael’s mom with a huge bouquet of flowers picked from her yard.   We called my Mom and exclaimed Happy Birthday!  She actually asked if I was sure I just gave birth!  “You sound like you just came back from a shopping trip.  Aren’t you tired?”  Once we were settled in and everyone left, Michael quickly fell asleep next to me, Ayla was back in bed, dogs snuggled at our feet and Anthony and I drifted off to sleep while he nursed in my arms.

 

I love to recall, retell, and relive my birth story.  It’s a process that I think is important to all mothers.  And Anthony is now strong, robust, and usually bubbling over with laughter.   I don’t think he ever really wanted to leave the womb.  He’s now become addicted to being worn in a sling and I joke that he’s trying to get back in my belly!  Birthing my children were the two greatest moments of my life and I’m so thankful to be their mother.  Now, if only I can figure out how to make raising them a euphoric experience!