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Introduction
Bringing Bella Into the World
As I contemplate this stage of my labour I am again struck by the difference between my experience and the mainstream medical births I saw portrayed in movies and on television shows like “A Baby Story”. It took some time to figure out exactly how to push, but I absolutely loved this stage of labour after I got the hang of things. For the first little while Robin used her hand to show me how and where to focus my pushing efforts; I found it extremely helpful to have something concrete to push against. However, aside from this gentle help, nobody told me how to push, when to push, or for how long. Nobody counted in my ear, instructed me when to stop and start, or told me to hold my breath. I was given help when I needed it to push correctly, but the only other advice I was given was to listen to my body, that inside I already instinctively knew exactly what I needed to do. I have never felt more in tune with myself, more aware of my body's signals. When the urge hit, I would push as long and hard as felt right at the time. Nobody was “delivering” my baby, she was simply and gently being born. I felt as if Sam, the baby and I were working in unison, already a team, already a family. The baby’s powerful life force rushed through me with each contraction, and it was stronger than anything I had ever experienced. Now was the time to let go of all preconceived ideas and notions and give myself up to the awe and wonder of the event. This stage was at once incredibly empowering and completely humbling. My role in this event was so vitally important, yet in the grand scheme of things, so incredibly minor.
Sam was right there with me the entire time; he was such a wonderful support and gave me strength when I needed it most. The midwives gave me the encouragement I needed to trust in myself and in my ability to deliver my baby. My body worked beautifully in conjunction with the baby, doing the hard work of labour just as nature had intended. The room was filled with warmth, love, and an air of quiet anticipation. Our baby, so long awaited, would soon be here with us. I could hardly believe I would soon be able to hold the baby that had consumed my thoughts and dreams for so many months. We already knew each other so intimately, yet we had never really met. We talked and laughed; it felt wonderful to be actively working toward bringing my baby into the world surrounded by an atmosphere of total love and trust in the process of childbirth.
At one point, as Pam was checking to see how far the baby had descended during the latest contraction, I suddenly wondered if I would also be able to feel her head. I reached down and to my surprise and amazement I was able to touch my darling baby for the first time. It is yet another part of this amazing experience I cannot find the words to explain. After carrying this little person within me for nine whole months and I was finally touch her before she was born, what an incredible and awesome gift. A huge wave of love passed through my body, it was almost electrifying. I invited Sam over to feel the baby as well, as he touched her head he looked up in amazement and said, “That’s our baby”! I will never forget the look of wonder and awe that crossed his face at that moment. As beautiful as the moment was, I started to feel the beginnings of another contraction and was anxious to get back down to business. I made everyone laugh by looking at Sam and saying, “Now don’t push it back in!” Once I felt my sweet baby’s head (and all that hair) I again felt much more focused and connected and pushed with renewed strength.
During this stage of labour I was expending a huge amount of energy, and as each contraction subsided I would take well-deserved rest. I would take a drink of water or something to eat and then just drift off in my own little world to conserve strength. I felt as if I was retreating into the oldest and most instinctive part of my brain; the part that had been helping women give birth for thousands and thousands of years. I was at once aware that the instinctive memories that would guide me to my baby were within me, indeed are within all women, if we only have the strength to discover them. Logic had no place now, only feelings and instincts were necessary to finish what had begun nine months ago. After all my reading and research, questioning the status quo, and playing an active roll in every part of my pregnancy, it was a relief to completely surrender to the sensations and let my body do what it was made to do. I laid my head back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes while Sam wiped my face, neck and upper body with a cold cloth. At times I think I was just barely awake and felt as if I was floating in my own private space, all extraneous distractions vanished like dust on the wind, until once again my body signaled that it was time to help guide our baby into the world.
At this point I was still in the pool, leaning back against the side. Pam had me draw my knees as far back as I could between contractions, but each time the contraction receded my legs would slowly drift together again as if pulled by magnetic force. Time and again Pam would remind me to keep my legs apart in order to give the baby room to descend. Despite my good intentions, I continued to close my legs between each contraction. Finally she looked at me and jokingly asked, “Are you trying to keep this baby inside”? Of course my answer was a resounding no, I wanted to meet my baby as soon as possible! That was the last reminder I needed!
After I had been pushing for a little while, Pam suggested I try a few contractions in a squatting position, as being upright would help move the baby down the birth canal faster. I was so comfortable it was hard to imagine moving, but during my many visualizations of labour I had often envisioned labouring in a squat, and was eager to try this position. Movement of any kind seems awkward when you are nine months pregnant, but during labour it feels near impossible. It must have been quite a picture, me with my huge pregnant belly, trying in vain to swing around in the pool and get myself upright. In the end I needed both Pam and my dear husband to hold me up in order to remain squatting – I just didn’t have the balance or coordination to do it on my own. To my surprise, pushing in this position felt very strange to me, and not nearly as natural as lying down. I did feel as if I was really making progress, but also as if I was using an extraordinary amount of energy to maintain the position. After a few contractions Pam had me lie down so she could check the baby’s heart rate with the Doppler. I had made a great deal of progress, but due to the rapid compression of the head during descent she felt that the baby was not tolerating it very well – and to my relief suggested I return to my semi-lying position.
Time was irrelevant to me, I had no concept of how much time had passed or what time of day it was. It could have been minutes or hours that had passed while I pushed, the only cue I had was that the room had slowly darkened and at one point the lights were turned on. It was as if we were all suspended in time; nothing was moving around me, all my energies were focused on the job at hand. We were not operating on any kind of deadline or timetable; nobody had a schedule to meet or other places to be. My body and the baby were the only factors determining the pace of the birth; it felt to right and natural that it should be this way. Occasionally during a break between contractions my curiosity would be piqued and I would ask Pam how long she thought I had left, but as soon as I started pushing again her answer would be erased from my mind.
As time passed I could feel the baby’s head moving further and further down my birth canal, and would occasionally reach down myself to feel the progress I had made. The birth record shows that at 6pm the contractions were coming every minute and that the baby was at +2 station, meaning her head was now below my two pelvic bones. As her head moved further down I began to feel immense pressure against my tailbone, and soon could actually feel it moving outward as I pushed and the baby’s head moved passed it. After the contraction subsided I could feel the baby’s head slip back past and my tailbone return to its position. At this point I began to understand how to maintain the baby’s position as I inhaled between pushes, not letting the baby slip back. Before this point it had been two steps forward, one step back – now I realized that I needed to maintain a minimum pressure in order to prevent the baby from moving back during breaks in the pushing. It is quite hard to explain, but it felt as if things moved faster once I made this connection.
As thing continued I began to feel more and more pressure. Pam periodically asked if I was experiencing pressure or burning and if so how much. I was excited when I started to feel burning in my perineum with each push because I knew that meant the baby’s head was close to crowning – my baby was going to be born soon. When I told Pam that I had begun to feel the burning sensation I had so often heard described she gave an instruction that made complete sense. It was such a small piece of advice, but to me it made all the difference in the world. She told me that there was a difference between burning, and burning too much, and that my body already knew the difference. For some reason these few words of wisdom completely integrated themselves into my subconscious and allowed me to control my pushing efforts in response to the signals from my body. When a contraction began I would push with full effort, but as the burning started I would slow down, giving small pushes and making quiet grunting exhalations with each push. This allowed my body to stretch gently to accommodate the baby’s head as it descended. I felt an awesome amount of power and control, I knew I was doing exactly what my body needed and was so close to meeting my child. Again, my awe at the incredible design of the female body was strengthened. We have been made so absolutely perfectly, that we are able to safely contain a baby inside us for nine months and with the same body, stretch to allow the baby passage into the world – it never ceases to leave me with a feeling of respect for the wonder of creation. I disagree with anyone who says the design of childbirth could be improved upon, having experienced pregnancy and childbirth I simply can’t imagine anything more perfect.
The stretching and expansion of my body was so incredible as to almost defy description. Now I could feel her head moving down with each contraction. With every small push, I could feel my body stretch even more as my baby approached the outside world. The room was quiet, the water was warm, my loving husband was by my side and baby would be born in the most wonderful atmosphere imaginable. I hoped with all my heart that this gentle loving birth would be followed by many, many gentle and loving years on earth.
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