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Week by Week

Angelica's Birth Story

          I started having regular contractions the night before
Angelica was born.  They were coming five minutes apart for half an
hour, so around midnight I called my mom and my girlfriend Bridgette, to
let them know that the big event might be soon.  I was thirteen days
past due, so I was really ready.  When labor stopped immediately after I
hung up the phone, I decided to go to bed.  I wasn't having contractions
when my husband John got up in the morning, so I let him go to work. 
Late in the morning, my 22-month-old daughter Christiana and I started
the day as usual, getting breakfast and watching a little TV. 
Contractions started again, and although they weren't painful, they were
definitely strong, so I called John to wrap things up at work and get
home as soon as possible.  I looked forward to having his loving
attention.  While waiting, Christiana and I showered and got dressed. 
That really helped me to loosen up, because  I remembered how yucky I
had felt after my first child was born, not having had the chance to
wash up beforehand.  
        When John got home around 12:30, we relaxed together on the
couch.  Johnny breathed with me through contractions and gave
encouragement.  We prayed together and called family for more prayer and
emotional support.  I ate lunch, brushed my teeth and generally made
myself comfortable.  I also began  getting supplies ready, like plastic
sheeting and linens.  I even set up the video camera, which in the
excitement we ended up forgetting to use.  When contractions got really
strong, I made myself a little nest of pillows to lean on at the end of
our spare bed, and told John that it was time to call Bridgette to
come.  When she arrived about an hour later, I was in the living room,
concentrating on opening up and relaxing my pelvic muscles.  I had an
overwhelming feeling that if I relaxed enough, the baby would come out
too fast.  My feeling was confirmed every time I stood up, because
gravity would cause the downward pressure to increase unbearably.   
        While Bridgette set to preparing homemade chicken soup in the
kitchen, I went to my bedroom to spend some time alone.  Christiana
entertained herself and visited off and on throughout this stage of
labor, tenderly lavishing hugs and kisses on me.  When transition
started, I began to have painful contractions, so I had Bridgette rub my
lower back while John occupied Christiana's attention.  After a few
minutes, I became fearful that I wouldn't be able to handle the
intensity of the contractions if this labor continued for as many hours
as my first had.  What I didn't realize was that the baby was about to
be born, and that the painless contractions I had been experiencing
earlier were those hours of labor.  Bridgette expressed her confidence
in me, however, helping me to remember that I could regain control of
the pain once I started the "pushing phase".  After she suggested a few
times that it would take the edge off the contractions, I gratefully
crawled into the warm bath she prepared.  As she vigorously swished
water over my belly, labor immediately became bearable and I refocused
on my goal--a gentle and painless birth.  
        A few contractions later, I told Bridgette that I wanted a break
in the intensity of labor, and miraculously, it came.  My prayers were
answered with a long, contraction-free moment in which I was able to
regroup and rest.   Soon my body spoke again, now clearly telling me
that it was time to push the baby out.  Bridgette wondered aloud how far
along I was, so I checked inside and was able to feel the head.  A few
seconds later, there was a gush as my water broke.  While pushing with
an irresistible urge, I instinctively turned onto my hands and knees in
the tub.  An instant later, Bridgette could see the baby's head, so she
called John and Christiana to come into the bathroom, and I savored the
feel of the emerging new person's head pressing on my fingers.  
        John came and cupped the baby's head in his hands, so I relaxed
knowing she was safe.  With one more contraction and three pushes,
Angelica Marie Morgan was born into her father's hands!  She was a bit
purple, having birthed through the cord that had been around her neck,
but after I turned over and she was resting on my tummy, she quickly
developed a healthy color.  We all felt euphoric.  After wrapping mom
and baby in a towel, John suddenly remembered the video camera and began
taping.  When we announced that the baby was a girl, Christiana, who had
been standing by quietly, now exclaimed, "Baby sister! Baby sister!"  I
was triumphant!  "Pop a cork," I said, "I feel like having a party!", as
Christiana reached into the tub to gently touch her sister for the first
time.  Then Bridgette went to stir the chicken soup, leaving us to have
some family time.
        We had begun making plans to get us out of the tub when Angelica
began to root around for her first meal, so I settled back in to nurse
my four-minute-old daughter.  When she was done, John and Bridgette
helped us out of the tub and dried us off.  Still connected to my
daughter by her umbilical cord, I walked over and settled us into our
family bed.  Once there, Angelica and Christiana nursed together.  
        A few minutes later, I felt another irresistible urge to push,
and out came Angelica's placenta into the disposable underpad I had been
sitting on.  Bridgette wrapped it and gently set it alongside us. 
Later, I cut the cord when the babies were contented, having finished
nursing.  John started making phone calls soon after, while I snuggled
with my two little girls.  By that time the delicious smell of chicken
soup had spread throughout the house, so we all happily devoured our
dinners while recalling and celebrating the day's fantastic events. 
Christiana and I ended the day by sharing an herbal bath while Angelica
acquainted herself with her father.  I laughed with Bridgette over the
irony, that she had so carefully prepared the herbs to aid in healing my
perineum, and I hadn't even torn. We chose not to disturb Angelica until
she was well settled, so it was not until that night that we found out
that she weighed 8lbs. 14oz. and a few days later that she measured 23
inches.
        You may note that there are a few things missing from this birth
story.  No one told me when I was in labor.  No one checked or recorded
my dilation, effacement or station.  No one told me when or where to sit
up, lie down, eat, drink, or pee.  No one screwed wires into my baby's
scalp.  No one ruptured her membranes.  Angelica was not touched by
anyone outside of her family as she entered the world.  No one shoved a
bulb syringe into her tiny newborn nose.  She began to breathe in her
own time, while still receiving oxygen from her placenta. She was not
taken from me to be swaddled and isolated in a plastic warmer with a
pacifier in her mouth.  She was warmed under a towel by her skin
touching mine, and comforted by a warm breast and her mother's milk. 
Angelica was not exposed to the germ-filled atmosphere of a hospital. 
In fact, the first other place she rested outside of my arms was on her
Father's chest, instead of in an isolette or carseat.  
        The absence of intervention in my daughter's birth was fully
intentional.  I believe in birth, and I trust life.  Healthy babies come
out when they are ready.  I know that babies are meant to be born
without anyone putting their hands inside their mothers.  Cervixes
dilate (or not) even when no one knows how dilated they are.  Monitoring
heart-rates, obsessing over dates, poking with needles, etc. do not make
babies healthy or happy.  Good genes, adequate maternal nutrition, high
quality prenatal care, and education do that.  In truth, most
interventions cause stress, inhibit nature, and dangerously increase the
need for more interventions.  Even the relatively interference-free care
given by most midwives often crosses nature's boundaries.  I was quite
blessed to have the help of a friend who is truly trusting and aware of
these things despite having been trained in midwifery.
        It is shameful when technology meant for life-saving is used
when it is completely unnecessary. The subtle, unkind interventions that
go unnoticed because they are accepted as necessary are just as
inexcusable.  The violent suctioning of newborns serves as one good
example.  It is well documented that mucous is expelled from the lungs
during birth, and that the rest will drain gently when the newborn is
placed on its mother's tummy.  Even when suctioning is necessary, there
is still no excuse for treating the newborn roughly.
        The impact birth has on the rest of our children's life requires
that we as parents take full responsibility for our caregivers'
actions.   Many people go about choosing their caregiver with the very
intention of relinquishing their parental responsibility of ensuring
their child a safe birth.   Instead, parents should take time to gain
the education needed to make their own decisions, and insist that birth
attendants honor their wishes.  Even if that necessitates questioning
caregivers' actions, refusing to allow certain procedures, or actually
firing attendants.  
        You might also think, as a lot of people have, that I was lucky
to have only thirty minutes of painful labor.  But I know that it wasn't
luck.  I planned to birth this way from the start.  Before I was even
pregnant, I prepared myself by reading about, praying for, and believing
in the kind of birth I wanted.  I learned about the fear/pain cycle, and
through prayer, allowed myself to be freed of anxiety about labor pain. 
Without involuntary muscular opposition brought on by fear, my body was
able to work as it should--quickly and painlessly.  I also attribute the
speed and ease of my labor to the lack of outside influences.  I didn't
have internal exams because I believe that this unnatural act causes the
pelvic muscles to reflexively tense up, lengthening labor and increasing
discomfort.    I also know that the signs of labor's stages (dilation,
for instance) can change radically in a short amount of time. 
Therefore, I believe that when an "expert" assesses  where a woman is in
labor, and that assessment conflicts with what her body tells her, the
news becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, and the woman becomes
disheartened and exhausted unnecessarily.   This helps explain why women
in hospitals often give up on having a "natural" birth.  They are having
longer, harder labors because of their environment.  Anyone who could
refuse drugs in that situation deserves a medal!  
        Women's bodies were made to be able to birth without assistance
of any kind.  I shudder when I hear glowing accounts of birth that
include statements like "the doctor had to...", or "my midwife needed
to...," because I know that a lot more of those labors were labeled and
treated as high risk than truly were.  So many women are convinced that
their baby's birth would have been a tragedy without intervention that,
were women being told the truth, it's statistically impossible for the
human race to have survived before the invention of these procedures. 
The odds that the majority of American women really aren't physically
able to birth the way I did are slim.  Of the many reasons why so few
actually do, acceptance of status quo, lack of education, and lack of
desire are all within our power to change.  Therefore, it is our duty to
do so.  
        I have been incredibly empowered and spiritually moved by my
birth experience.  Too many families are missing the same opportunity
because of the over-acceptance and over-application of intervention in
labor and delivery.  I hope that the story of my daughter's birth is
encouraging to other families, and influences them to seek out the
information necessary for them to have the births they want.  Don't
settle for less!

Laurie Annis Morgan