Let me tell you a story of love and light, surrender and stillness: the empowering story of an amazing and redemptive birth: the birth of my 5th, Lucy.
I named her Lucy because Luz in Spanish means light. While she grew within me, I navigated a labyrinth and had just enough light to see the next few steps ahead as I changed health providers several times, debated if I'd have her in or out of the hospital, second-guessed, cried, agonized in indecision at times, but continued to press ahead.
When I was 36 weeks pregnant, through a miracle, I found the midwives who would be there at her birth. They were a perfect fit.
I didn't want to be induced this time.
So when I was 42 weeks and 1 day, and went to see the midwife for a non-stress test, I hoped it would be soon.
The test showed the baby was healthy. She stripped the membranes at my request, and I drove home, wrestling with fear and unsettled feelings.
'I'm just not ready,' I kept thinking. And then I would argue with that thought. 'How can I not be ready? I'm So ready. So done. I'm more "overdue" than I've ever been with any of my others.'
I stayed in the car, in the driveway, praying aloud. As I pondered, cried, prayed some more, I realized. I'm not ready for this to be the last time. The last birth. The last newborn. The last little kid. I felt like this would probably be my last, and I didn't even want it to begin because of the surprising grief I felt over closing this chapter. This chapter of raising tiny little ones, which has brought me so much joy and stretching, been so agonizing and yet so amazing.
And what if, this last birth, wasn't as good as I wanted it to be? What if I had to be transferred to the hospital after all that effort to find a midwife and prepare myself for an out-of-hospital birth? I didn't want to think about the cost. The "I told you so" even silent judgment from loved ones, or worse, from myself.
I took a shaky breath. I said another prayer. In it, I slowly came to a place of ultimate surrender. I had been holding so tightly to this birth. I knew what I wanted it to be like. But I had to realize that, due to circumstances I could never predict, this birth may be nothing like I was hoping. I gave it up, that precious dream, to God. And in that surrender, the contractions continued and became more real. That was when labor really began.
I knew it was getting more serious because I felt like I needed my husband to help me into the house, so I called him and he did.
After a few hours, I wanted my doula's support so I called and she came over. I labored for a while with her consistent back-presses helping the back labor. My sister came to help with my other kids, and we enjoyed looking at their baby books. The sun shining in was the only light and there was a magical kind of peace that I enjoyed between contractions.
I took a shower and struggled without my doula's help with the contractions. I had the thought that I'd need to go to the birth center soon to start the antibiotics because I had tested positive for GBS.
So when I got out, I announced it was time to go. We called and let the midwife know, and left around 8:45 in the evening. It was still light out.
The drive over (about 10 minutes) was something I had been dreading, but I was in a silly mood and only had one contraction on the way. I called my friend who was planning to take pictures and videos of the birth, to let her know we were on our way to the birth center.
When we arrived, we started to look around at what was available: the tub, the birthing stool, the bed. I noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling, meant for a laboring woman to be able to pull on to help with the pain. I jokingly got on and swung from it a bit. We laughed that I could be that silly while in labor.
The midwives prepared my IV and I was delighted to find out that I just needed to have it in my system 4-ish hours before birth, and not be hooked up during labor as I had imagined. They were considerate of my contractions and waited for minutes between them before inserting the IV.
After the IV ran its course, I moved around, and soon enjoyed putting my weight on my husband with my arms up around his neck during my contractions. My doula pushed on my back and they were present with each contraction. In between, we joked around and I truly enjoyed it - we had a lot of fun and the energy was great.
Eventually the contractions got harder and my mood in between shifted to a little more tired and discouraged. We changed positioning a few times and each time that helped a little bit.
After the IV ran its course, I moved around, and soon enjoyed putting my weight on my husband with my arms up around his neck during my contractions. My doula pushed on my back and they were present with each contraction. In between, we joked around and I truly enjoyed it - we had a lot of fun and the energy was great.
Eventually the contractions got harder and my mood in between shifted to a little more tired and discouraged. We changed positioning a few times and each time that helped a little bit.
My midwife, noticing the change in my demeanor, asked if I wanted to get in the tub. I had hoped to have a water birth and knew I was going to save this for the end. I was in denial that I could be that close, because contractions, though getting more strong, were still fairly far apart. Every 10 minutes or five, but not more frequent. Because she thought it could be close, I got into the tub which felt great. My favorite position was leaning on my forearms, with my doula still giving that amazing, helpful back pressure during contractions. Paul would pour some water onto my back and arms, and my friend was taking pictures/ videos and then came and held a fan near my face. I felt so respected, loved, honored, and supported.
At one point I tried a different position, leaning on my back, because that's how I imagined I'd be when the baby actually came out. But that was hard. I hadn't realized how much the back pressure was helping. So after just one contraction, I returned to the previous position.
One thing I felt like talking about during labor was my amazing grandmother, Leslie. She never liked her name- always wanted a more feminine one. I felt like she was there from the Spirit World with me as I labored. Even though I named the baby Lucy, she is Leslie's namesake.
As contractions got more intense, I couldn't get through one without a prayer. I prayed and prayed. Between contractions sweet words were exchange, thanks given to my team, encouragement received. During contractions I would close my eyes or sometimes just keep trying to look at Paul's eyes as he encouraged me. We made low sounds together to keep me relaxed and to help me not fight the contractions.
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My midwife noticed a complication (I was having a prolapse) and asked me to get out of the tub so they could see better what was going on. At the time, they thought the baby could be breech. I was scared that I'd have to be transferred to the hospital or have some pain as they would try to turn the baby. But I felt so safe, and in such good hands. I knew I could trust the midwives. I had some time there on the bed as they checked things, and I was able to look at my husband in the eyes and have his help grounding me while I went through contractions. We both drifted off to sleep, even as labor continued.
When they realized I was having a prolapse, they gave me some options. The easiest one was if I could urinate, because my bladder was blocking the path for the baby to come down. I tried unsuccessfully - the baby's head was having such pressure that I had no urge. Eventually they inserted a catheter which was the worst part of the whole experience. This didn't work either.
As time went on, I started to want to push. I requested returning to the tub.
When I got back in, I asked that all the staff leave me and my husband alone for a few minutes and they trusted my instinct and complied.
We prayed together and got through another contraction or two. I still was hoping for the ability to urinate but still couldn't. I was praying for that miracle to happen and felt a little frustrated, worried that this was stopping me from having the birth I wanted.
The room was dark except for some little twinkle lights. It was not long after 1 am. I asked for the birth team to come in again. Even though I still had the obstacle of the prolapse, I felt very calm. Things felt very sacred and respectful and quiet. My breaks between contractions were still long (sometimes 10 minutes, sometimes five or so), giving me ample time to prepare mentally for the next one. I was in a break between contractions and I felt the urge to sing. So, with my eyes closed, I sang. The acoustics were great and my soprano voice was strong.
"Arise, O God, and shine
In all thy saving might,
And prosper each design
To spread thy glorious light;
Let healing streams of mercy flow,
That all the earth thy truth may know."
Immediately after the song, I knew it was time to push. I went on all fours in that warm tub and felt a strong "pop". I didn't know if my water was breaking or if that bulge was getting out of the way. The birth team hurried over as I began to bear down, on my hands and knees in the water, pushing. It happened so fast. I pushed once. Her head was out. I could feel it under the water. I felt the head, the hair, an ear. Panic struck, making me scared I couldn't do the rest. It was less than a minute, but it felt like five or ten. But then, as the next contraction came, I pushed again, loudly vocalizing, and the rest of the baby was out of me. The midwife gently nudged her from behind and I picked up my sweet baby out of the water and brought her to my chest. I leaned back and in disbelief that it was really already over, started to get to know my little one.
We were all in a bit of shock at how fast it went.
After a few minutes when I was ready, I opened the towel the midwife had put around her and checked and announced a little girl. We laughed as we realized Paul was still making low noises like he had been to help me get through my contractions: I told him he didn't need to do that anymore. I had been the very first to hold my own baby, and no one took her away from me.
The birth team hadn't even been able to write "push" on the chart because that's how fast it went as soon as I announced it was time.
After about five minutes of glorious bonding, joy, and disbelief, one of the midwives asked if I was sitting on a towel, which I wasn't. I was hemorrhaging, blood and clots were in the water- enough to resemble a towel. They helped me get out of the tub, someone held the baby as we waddled over to the bed. I hadn't delivered the placenta yet and she was still connected.
The placenta proved more difficult than I've ever had with other births, but eventually I was able to push it out. My little Lucy stayed connected and stayed with me until the cord was completely drained and she got all that good blood - about 45 minutes. Then I cut the cord.
I hemorrhaged more and they were a little worried I'd have to be transferred over to the hospital to get a blood transfusion. But miraculously, and with the wisdom of my brilliant midwives knowing what to do and what medicine to give me, it stopped and I didn't have to.
It wasn't for more than an hour after birth that we finally weighed her. By looking at her, people had predicted 10 lbs. She looked like 9 to me (my other four kids ranged from 8 lbs 14 oz to 9 lbs 5 oz).
They put her in a little hammock-like cloth scale, and my husband held it up so she was up off the bed. The midwife looked at the numbers.
"Looks like 10...1...? or is that 10...2..?"
My husband looked over. "That's not 10, it's 11!"
"11!" Everyone exclaimed.
My sweet baby, who came out in 2 minutes and 2 pushes, no tearing, and the smoothest, safest, most glorious birth experience, was 11 lbs, 1 oz.
I named her Lucy, which means light bringer. We brought light together to that dark, quiet room at 1 a.m. We are bringing light together to this big, amazing world.
She wasn't ready until her mama sang.
