Story -- A Home Birth Story
For pictures of Story's home birth click hereAt 1:30 am on April 27, 2005 my wife awoke me with these words, “Unless you want to deliver the baby yourself you better call the midwife and have her here in thirty minutes. She used rather stern words to bring me out of my sleep, but I learned later that she was in the middle of a contraction. I got up and called our midwife. It’s something of a luxury to call someone at 1:30 am with complete authority and having every moral right. Joyce picked up on the second ring sounding eager and ready. She asked some initial questions that she had to ask and then said she would be right over.
Barbara had gotten through her contraction and reminded me that I needed to get Clorinda up. Clorinda is our eight-year-old who has been present at all three births that followed hers. We never planned for her to be at these births, but she was always insistent and seemed to take them very well. Also she seemed to be a comfort to her mother in some small, but important way by being present. I had difficulty in waking her and by the time she was conscious Autumn, our six-year-old, had also woken and was determined that she was going to be a part of this also.
We filled the tub up because Barbara seems to prefer water births and got all the birthing supplies out and ready. Barbara was already in the tub and Clorinda was perched on the side of the tub, elbows on knees, chin in hands, keeping vigil with Barbara as she went through her preparatory contractions.
Joyce arrived in about 20 minutes and gently took control of the situation. She told us that her backup, Cathy, was on her way. The girls took turns keeping lookout at the front window for Cathy’s arrival which occurred about 15 minutes later. It’s always a wonderful thing for the husband (and I’m sure for the wife also) to have the midwives arrive. I’ve been involved at all four of our homebirths, and my wife’s deliveries have been relatively straight forward, but the thought of having to help my wife by myself is an unhappy thought and one to be avoided. In the homebirths I have experienced the midwives don’t only bring their experience and expertise, they bring a sisterhood with them that fills the home and birthing experience with warmth and hope.
Joyce had checked Barbara in the tub and found her to be dilated to a 3. Barb had gotten a little too warm in the tub we all went into the bedroom. For the next hour we all chatted between Barbara’s contractions. I enjoyed getting to know the midwives and Barbara found the talk a pleasant distraction to what her body was doing. During the contractions Joyce would apply pressure to various points of Barb’s body, depending on what position Barb happened to be in—on the birthing ball, on her hands and knees, leaning against the ball, standing up—as Barbara tells me, it gets to the point where you can’t find a comfortable position.
At some point, I think about an hour-and-a-half since Barb had awakened me, we moved back into the bathroom. Barbara felt she had to sit on the toilet quite often. She had chosen the standing position now with her head against the wall and her legs spread a little so she could move her pelvis. Her contractions were much harder now and lasted longer. Things were moving along as quickly as usual with Barbara. Eventually Barb replaced the wall with me and leaned against me with her head on my chest. Barbara has never been one to take pain well. The accidental bonks and kicks and elbows that occur in a family of ten (a family of ten involved heavily with taekwondo) never go over well with her, but I have always been amazed at Barbara’s calmness and courage in childbirth. Her focus and faith that she is going to get through this is inspirational to me. I felt such a heightened love for her as I held her and did what little I could to help her through the contractions.
At two hours into this birthing experience Barbara got back into the tub and finally found an acceptable position. On previous births she had squatted in the tub, but on this birth she stretched out as straight as she could. We found a nice pillow for behind her head. Little Guppy (Autumn—she was our first water birth) asked me how long it was going to take. I referred to my experience from the other births and told her maybe 30 minutes. We were right next to Barbara and she heard my answer. She gave me a brief, but unhappy look. It was clear she wanted this over long before 30 minutes was up. And it was.
Her contractions suddenly got much more serious. I moved out of the way so that Joyce could check her. She was now a 7 with a lip of the cervix still in the way. Barb told Joyce and Cathy that she had to push now, but the midwives successfully helped her focus and breathe through the contractions instead. Twice more they did the same thing. Finally, when I don’t think they could have stopped Barbara any longer, they let her push.
This time of crisis, when the veil between life and death seems to be very thin for the mother, has always intrigued me as a defining moment. As Barbara cried out in her pain I could tell that there was no emotional baggage, no outside motive, no outside thought other than her pain. I am not trying to compare my pain to that of childbirth, but the closest I have ever come to the state of mind my wife was in at that time was during my black belt test when the tester, through an endurance test, was trying to make me quit. He had come so close to making me do so that when it was over, and I hadn’t quit, I cried openly in front of the testing board and the spectators. I knew how close I had come to quitting and it was emotionally overwhelming. That experience seemed to link me to Barbara at this of her crisis.
Clorinda, even with her experience of three other births, was distraught at her mother’s pain and hid her face in my chest. Autumn wasn’t nearly as distraught and was at the edge of the tub. “I see the baby’s head!” she yelled. That was all Clorinda needed to pull herself together and she and I stepped to the edge of the tub to see. It seemed to take forever for Barbara to push the head through (it ended up being a 14” head), but finally there was Story. Compared to the head it was a simple thing for the shoulders and body to follow. The umbilical cord was wrapped twice around the neck, but it was loose and didn’t appear to have caused any problem. This was at 4:00 am, two-and-a-half hours after Barbara had woken me.
They laid Story on Barb’s chest. He was so blue. I had never seen a baby so blue and I wondered if he was okay. The midwives showed no concern and that eased my apprehension. Story cried a little and I could hear him breathing as they cleared his nose and mouth. The placenta came out soon there after along with a lot of blood. We wrapped Story in warm towels and put the placenta in a plastic sack and I took him and the sack to the other room while the midwives worked with Barbara. It took them about 30 to 40 minutes get the bleeding controlled and had them worried. I held Story during this time in the rocking chair. He was wide away and so alert. He looked around, moved his hands and bent his fingers. Every once in a while he would cry when I moved him too fast. I could tell he wanted to nurse. Cathy came and instructed me on how to cut the cord and assisted me in doing so. She then did the well baby check and weighed and measured him. He was 9 pounds 8 ounces and 21.5 inches long. Story was by far the largest baby we had ever had.
Little Glory (age 2) and Jory (age 4) had awaken during all this. Glory came in in tears, but quit crying when she saw the baby. She sat on the bed next to me while I was holding the baby and when Cathy walked by she looked up and said in a low, but determined voice, “My baby!” Jory ran and got one of his blankets and insisted I use it or the baby. I did, but Story messed it. Jory laughed at that.
Finally Barbara was able to get back to bed and I was able to hand Story back to her. She put him to her breast and he went to work letting Barb’s uterus know that it was all over. We cleaned up and Joyce gave me instructions on how to take care of Barbara (who had lost a lot of blood) and the baby. Joyce and Cathy, both nearly strangers to me except for the intimate experience, both gave me a warm hug when they left. It was about 7:00 am then.
We had the usual rush of kids (seven others) to see the baby. As usual they tried to love Story to death. Finally I was able to get the little ones to sleep on the couch while the older boys went about their business. Barb, Story, and I were able to lie down and finally get some rest. This is the eighth time we have brought a child into the world, but the wonder and beauty of it has never waned for me.
posted by PapaT @ 10:18 AM
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