We were immensely blessed by the arrival of John Luke on September 9th. He arrived peacefully at home, surrounded in love. Many friends, and even a few strangers, have had questions about our plans for home birth. This isn’t surprising since less than 1% of birthing women in America give birth at home, which means I am officially part of the 1%–GASP! Home birth is, unfortunately, not the norm and therefore there is a lot of misunderstanding and misinformation. Let’s get two things out of the way right now–I am not a hippy—not even that “crunchy” really and we don’t plan to do anything weird with the placenta. (Okay, so it is in our freezer, which is probably a little weird but I plan to use it later in my midwifery studies.)
I love birth stories. I love reading them and I love writing them. I’m sharing Luke’s story because I think it is important, imperative even, that the birth paradigm in the United States shifts for the protection of mamas and babies. One of the ways this will happen is by allowing women to hear stories of normal, unhindered birth. Birth is meant to be raw, transforming--a natural physiological process. Birth matters!
When babies are born matters–are they forced out or allowed to gestate, as long they need based on biological and physiological design? Pregnant bellies do not actually have those handy little pop-up timers like a Thanksgiving turkey. The timing and start of labor is a delicate process and the more I learn about it, the more I am convinced that interfering with a perfectly healthy pregnancy simply because we think baby is “overdue” or because mom is tired of being pregnant is downright dangerous. The most widely accepted theory about what exactly triggers the start of labor is that baby releases a protein into the amniotic fluid at the point in which his lungs are developed and ready to breathe air. This protein then triggers the hormones in mom that control labor. Of course, the implication of messing with this delicate process for no apparent medical reason is that baby is not actually ready for the ardent process of labor and birth nor is he 100% ready for life outside the womb, all of which can lead to breathing difficulties for baby. This is why the March of Dimes has become an outspoken critic of the high elective induction rates in the US. Not so many years ago 38-42 weeks was the normal length of pregnancy and 40 weeks was simply seen as the average.
How babies are handled and treated after birth matters–are they taken from mom, their source of nourishment, warmth, and protection? Poked, prodded, scrubbed, etc. at the expense of crucial bonding time? I will never understand why things like weighing and measuring the baby or baby’s first bath is such an urgent matter in American hospitals. Ben was born in the midwife led unit of a hospital in England; shortly after he was born the 2 midwives who were in the room (the only people in the room other than me and Abe) left. They turned the lights down, they made sure Ben and I were skin to skin and doing well, and then left us alone to bond, breastfeed, and cuddle. He wasn’t weighed until nearly an hour after he was born and that was only after I was ready to do so. Abe and I also gave him his first bath several hours later. There is nothing…nothing…more important than ensuring that mom and baby are bonding and falling in love with each other and baby is breastfeeding during the first few hours after birth. Everything else can and should wait.
Birth matters for moms, too. Postpartum depression is reaching epidemic proportions. And according to Amnesty International it is now more dangerous for a woman in America to give birth than it is for women in 49 other countries in the world. She is also at a greater risk of complications, injury, and even death than her mother was decades ago. A woman’s birth experience will directly affect her feeding choice. Breastfeeding rates are dismally low in the United States despite the plethora of scientific evidence (makes me laugh that as a society we would even need to study the benefits of breastfeeding….millions of babies not only surviving but thriving on it as their only source of food for millions or thousands of years depending on your theology apparently isn’t evidence enough…) that says it is best for babies. The benefits include lower rates of obesity, diabetes, cancer, and asthma (just to name a few), higher IQ, fewer ear infections and digestive issues, etc. I experienced the breakdown of a breastfeeding relationship with my first due to a very intervention riddled birth and postpartum experience. It was emotionally heart wrenching to have to give up that desire to breastfeed because of things that had happened during labor and immediately after his birth. Yet hospital policy continues to persist in undermining that initial bonding period which is so critical to the establishment of a breastfeeding relationship.
Luke’s birth story was really being written over the course of the last 11 years and the birth experiences I had with his 4 brothers. The first three medicated hospital births with all of the interventions that private insurance could buy left me feeling disempowered and empty. I felt like the whole process had been so medical and phony as if I wasn’t even a necessary participant in the process, just a bystander doing what everyone in the room told me to do. “Put your legs here.” “Push until I get to 10.” “Keep it coming.” “Chin to your chest.” And then suddenly a baby appears and I am expected to know exactly what to do, all on my own with no one coaching or directing me. This was especially distressing with my first baby. If I can’t give birth without help, then surely you can’t expect me to care for and keep this baby alive without your help. Isn’t that task also potentially dangerous like the birth, with the possibility of a medical emergency looming at any given moment?! With the 2nd and 3rd I just accepted that this is how things are done so let’s get it over with and get back home as soon as we possibly can.
And then we moved to England where I encountered the midwifery model of care. “What do you mean you don’t “deliver” babies only “catch” them? Who is going to deliver this child from my body then?” I began to devour books, research articles, blogs, birth stories because I was so convinced that the backward, archaic National Health Service of England couldn’t possibly be better at birth than the best healthcare system in the world—the US. Wellllll. Turns out I was in less danger giving birth under the NHS than I was in an American institution. That was a humbling discovery. And the more I read and researched and learned the more I was convinced that God surely knows what He is doing when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth. I learned about the incredible anatomy and physiology of a woman’s body, how it works to create, grow, birth and then nourish another human being. I studied the amazing mechanics of birth, how a mom’s body and her baby work together in this beautiful dance called labor. I began to trust God’s design for birth– my body, my baby, and the process itself was designed to work! (That’s Gensis 3 and Psalm 127 if you need some Biblical evidence.) Would it hurt? Of course, there’s a baby coming out of my body! But I had experienced 3 painless labors and births thanks to stellar epidurals and I was more than happy to exchange a few hours of physical pain for the days, weeks, and even months of emotional and psychological pain that I had felt, particularly after Connor’s birth.
Ben was born after an intense 2-hour labor. I was 5 days past my “due” date, but when he decided to come he decided to come. Contractions were immediately 2 minutes apart and serious. I labored upright, leaning on Abe for support. I had read about the fetal ejection reflex and was fascinated by it since my other births required someone to tell me to push because I was completely numb. Well after experiencing it, I am not just fascinated by it I am completely awed by it. Forty-five minutes after arriving at the hospital my body took over and began pushing. Five minutes later Benjamin was in my arms. Abe and I joke that Ben arrived fast and furious and hasn’t really slowed down since. I’m not going lie, I felt like I could do anything in that moment. For the first time I loved and appreciated my body—it did not need any help or outside influence to birth my baby. It just needed to be left alone to accomplish what the Creator intended for it to do—grow and birth babies.
Discovering that I was pregnant with Luke about 18 months after Ben was born was an unexpected blessing. At the time we were still living in England but it was looking like we would probably be repatriating in a few months. I knew right away that I could never give birth in a US hospital again if my pregnancy was low-risk after my wonderful experience with Ben’s birth. It would be very, very difficult to get the birth experience that I wanted in a hospital in the US, so right away I knew that I wanted a home birth. Abe was very supportive of my desire to birth at home once he was assured that the midwife and her assistant would take care of all of the “mess”. J
My pregnancy was entirely uneventful. We had made the decision not to have the typical 20 weeks ultrasound or any of the fancy 4D scans after reading some studies on the uncertainty surrounding the safety of shooting sound waves at a developing baby (see Dr. Sarah Buckley’s articles). I am so glad we did not opt to “peek” at our baby, it made bonding so much sweeter as it felt much more like meeting him for the first time. My estimated due date based on my cycle and conception date was September 11th. I was fully expecting to go past this date.
Early labor began around the 38 weeks mark. I would have periods of regular, but not painful contractions that would last for several hours. Prodromal labor often makes for a much quicker, easier “real” labor but it sure messes with your head! On multiple occasions I thought this could be “it” only for the contractions to stop. Around this time I had flu like symptoms, bloody show, and persistent backache.
And then on September 8th they just stopped. I felt great that day, both physically and emotionally, and all signs of impending labor disappeared which made me even more certain that our baby would not be arriving for several more days. We enjoyed a lazy Saturday with the boys, enjoyed a yummy dinner, and played a fun guessing game with baby’s arrival date, gender, weight and length. After putting the boys to bed Abe and I went upstairs intending to help things along (wink, wink) but within a few minutes of getting into bed I felt this strange sensation—almost like a tearing rather than popping—and a warm trickle. I instinctively looked at the clock—10:30 p.m. In disbelief I announce, “um, I think my water just broke”. I scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood up still not believing my water had actually broken. As soon as I am upright a decent amount of clear fluid started running down my legs. Abe, in the way that only Abe can, remarked, “Man, I’m good!”
After saying “Oh. My. Gosh.” several times I had the clarity of mind to ask for a towel and my bathrobe. I would never have guessed that my water would break before labor started. In my hospital births it was always broken artificially by the doctor and with Ben it broke seconds before he was born so I had just assumed that as long as it wasn’t messed with it would probably stay intact for the duration of labor this time around, too.
We went downstairs so that I could call the midwife and let her know what was happening. (Another Abe moment—upon reaching the kitchen he put the kettle on the stove to boil and remarked about how English he is, “Oh, something is happening, put the kettle on!” It made me laugh and wish that our English friends were closer to share in the joy of welcoming another precious blessing. ) Our lovely midwife encouraged us to rest and call her when contractions started. So we turned the kettle off and tried to get some rest. I’m pretty sure Abe fell asleep in like 10 seconds flat, but I was still in disbelief and my back was aching so I got up and sat on my birth ball to see if that helped. Not long after getting up I felt the first slightest little twinge. Abe got up with me to keep me company. Ironically, I had just installed the free contraction monitor app on my iPod about an hour before we had gone to bed the first time so I got it out just for grins still not thinking labor would start right away. The first contraction we timed was at 11:36 and it lasted only 30 seconds. I had 2 more contractions of similar length and intensity at about 2 minutes apart. The next one was different. It lasted just over a minute and required my attention. From this point on the contractions were 1-2 minutes apart and lasting over a minute. Abe gently suggested we go ahead and call the midwife back since she has young children and a 30-minute drive to our house, but I was reluctant at that point. I was afraid they would stop and we would have gotten her out of bed for nothing. After a few more contractions he again suggested that we call her and at least let her know what is going on. I knew he was right, but for some reason I needed a little bit longer before I was ready to acknowledge that we were having a baby that night. After some quiet affirmations to myself (Isaiah 41:10) I called the midwife and explained my contraction pattern to her and she said they would come right over.
I continued to labor gently and peacefully in between many trips to the bathroom. I found that the toilet was my favorite place to labor—another surprise since I could do nothing but stand during Ben’s labor—so I wasn’t upset about my bladders frequent insistence that I go there. Around 12:15 a.m. there was a clear change in my contractions and I had my first really intense one. I felt the baby move down substantially during that contraction and the absolute power of it made me cry out for Abe who was busy getting our birth supplies out and turning his kettle back on (ha!). He came running in and I sobbed, “It’s happening too fast, I can’t do this.” Um, transition, anyone? I totally recognized the emotional markers of the transition phase and felt excited and strengthened by the knowledge that I was already in the latter stages of dilation and soon I would have my baby in my arms.
At this point I lost all sense of time. I just had to go inward and really focus on breathing and relaxing through each surge. I do know from my midwife’s notes that her assistant arrived around 12:30 a.m. and she arrived around 12:40 a.m.
I had a hard time finding a comfortable laboring position. I tried hands and knees, side lying, squatting, standing, sitting on my ball, but the only position that brought any sort of relief was sitting on the toilet when I had to use the bathroom. For some reason it never occurred to me to just stay there. Maybe it was pride? Knowing that I would want to share the birth story and deep down I didn’t want to have to admit that I had labored on the toilet. Little did I know…
So I kept trying to get comfortable in our bedroom. At some point I mumbled “Thank God for breaks between contractions.” And then later “So much pressure with a broken bag of water.” The room was dark and quiet and other than agreeing with whatever I said and intermittently listening to baby’s heart tones no one bothered me, they just let me work with my body. I’m not sure of the time but after laboring for a little while the pressure became intense. I assumed this meant time to push even though I wasn’t feeling the same powerful, involuntary urge that I had felt during Ben’s labor. But I started bearing down anyway. And nothing happened. Nothing. Baby wasn’t budging and I was getting super frustrated and starting to wonder if something was wrong. I am good at pushing, even my first only took 45 minutes and that was with an epidural and the stupid lithotomy position! So why was this baby not moving? I began to panic a bit. Was baby stuck? In a bad position?
I needed some reassurance so I asked the midwife to check me. I was completely dilated but had an anterior lip on my cervix that was preventing baby from entering the birth canal. I tried pushing while she held the lip back but that hurt far too much. It was time for me to mentally regroup. I reminded myself that my body will know when to push and it will do most of the work for me so I refocused my attention on breathing and relaxing through the contractions. Then I remembered the toilet. “Can I try sitting on the toilet to get rid of the lip?” Everyone agreed it was a GREAT idea so off I waddled. Abe decided this would be a good opportunity to run downstairs quickly. (Sigh.)
I sat down, had a contraction, and felt baby move down. I must have said, “Baby is coming!” because the midwife’s assistant begins calling to Abe to come back quickly. And then that fetal ejection reflex showed up. As soon as I felt my body take over I stood up, intending to try and get back down the hallway to the bedroom. The plan was for Abe to catch his baby but he was missing and I was standing over the toilet—NOT how things happened in ANY of my birth fantasies!
Right away it became clear that baby was not waiting for Daddy to catch or for me to get to a more “dignified” place of birth so I gave into the overwhelming power and began to push with my body. Pushing is by far the most intense part of labor for me. I handle everything pretty well but when that baby starts down the birth canal I always temporarily lose my wits (mild understatement right there). I managed to hear the midwife say something along the lines of “Slow down, stretch, stretch” so I tried to just breathe for a minute. “Is the head out?!” Please, please tell me the head is out. “Yes” she tells me with a smile (loved her calm presence). And then my body pushes again and out comes a beautiful pink baby with lots of gorgeous dark hair. The midwife immediately handed baby to me and as I am lifting baby up to my chest I glance and see that we have another son. I laugh and announce, “it’s a BOY!” Thankfully Abe had made it upstairs just in time to see his fifth son enter the world, but unfortunately not in time to catch him. Maybe next time, Abe? 
John Luke was born at exactly 2:00 a.m. After a few minutes of admiring him we made our way back to the bedroom where he immediately started nursing. We let his cord stop pulsating before cutting it. My babies always have short cords so I didn’t want to wait for the placenta before cutting it, but he got all of his cord blood. Time was still a blur since I had a precious baby boy to love on but I think it only took 15-20 minutes for the placenta to come. I love the placenta; it is an amazing organ! The midwife showed it to us and pointed out some of the features of my complete and very healthy looking placenta.
I had the least amount of bleeding this time around than with any of my other births. Within an hour of having Luke I was in the shower washing off a bit. I had no dizziness or vomiting as I had had with my first 3 births. I felt good.
The midwife and her assistant stayed for 2 hours after the birth, during which we weighed and measured the little guy (8 pounds 12 ounces/ 2o inches long/14.5 in. head circumference) and he had his newborn exam. They also cleaned up the “mess” (much to Abe’s relief), helped me shower and get settled into bed with a big glass of orange juice and my nursing babe, and monitored my vital signs as well as Luke’s.
We didn’t really sleep much after they had gone. I was so excited for the boys to wake up and surprise them with their new baby brother. Around 6:30 a.m. we heard stirring in Eli and Ben’s room, which is right across the hall from our bedroom. Luke started crying and suddenly the door to their bedroom burst open and two blonde headed boys come running into our room. I really can’t even begin to describe how precious this moment was—Ben was thoroughly amazed and slightly bewildered. I had to show him my flatter tummy and attempt to explain that the baby came out of my tummy. Eli was just thrilled—thrilled to have another brother, thrilled to have won the guessing game, thrilled to be able to go wake up Connor and Isaac and tell them the news, thrilled to cuddle up in bed with me and baby Luke, and thrilled to get celebratory donuts! Connor and Isaac were equally as thrilled. Connor couldn’t believe that I had had a baby and he never heard anything. Isaac just said “Oh my gosh, you had a baby!” Yep, that is pretty much what I was thinking, too.
Our home birth experience was so wonderful. It exceeded all of our expectations. It was healing for me; I feel like I have come full circle with my birth experiences. And while I wish that natural birth and home birth had been on my radar much sooner, I also realize that this journey has been one of learning and growth. Each experience taught me something about myself and drove me to keep searching for a different, better experience. I have witnessed the full spectrum of birth and my prayer is that one day that makes me a better, more compassionate birth attendant.
The result of all five of my births has been a beautiful, healthy baby boy and for that I am so very thankful. However, I can see a striking difference in my physical and emotional recovery as well as the bonding and attachment process with my last two births. It was hard, there was pain involved, but I did it. I’ve never run a marathon, but I’m guessing natural childbirth has some parallels with running a marathon. Both push your body and mind to the upper limit, both require a lot of determination and preparation, and when finished both provide an enormous sense of accomplishment and awe at the pure strength and capability of the human body. The best news for me is that there is now no reason for me to ever feel inclined to run a marathon. I’ve given birth without drugs; I’m good, thanks.
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