Bodie's Birth

Revelations from my first birth

My older son just turned 4 and I’ve been thinking a lot about his birth. What a wild ride! I learned so much from this experience in spite of, or perhaps because of, it not going the way I wanted. It feels important to share this story partly for my own catharsis and also because we can learn a lot from our mistakes. As a doula and teaching classes to prepare for birth, I’ve used this story to illustrate how to go towards what you want and how to give yourself grace when surprises arise. Looking back it’s easy to see how starkly different this medicalized birth was from my second undisturbed birth where we stayed home (you can read about that here). The way we birth affects our journey into motherhood and beyond.

Here’s the story of my birth as I remember it from 4 years ago. In my next piece I’ll unravel the mistakes I made. Many of them are common mistakes, especially for a first birth. One of the big themes I want to look at is the belief going in that I needed a lot of help; help from my parents, help from my partner, help from my midwives. Spoiler alert: I discovered that for birth I only need the innate power within my own body and the ability to go within and surrender to this power. It’s after the baby is born that we need a lot of help! And so we begin...

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I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of a midwifery immersion program in El Paso, Texas, on the border of Juarez, Mexico. While I was growing bigger with new life and going through enormous changes, I was also working at a birth center; catching babies, drawing blood, doing prenatal and postpartum visits (mostly in Spanish), and taking classes about pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. I commiserated with the pregnant women about nausea while we ate crackers together. I got out of working the 24 hour shifts when the deep exhaustion of pregnancy set in, and slogged through 12 hour shifts instead. I would fall asleep on the couch during classes.

I chose to return home to Montana 5 months later so that I could be with my partner and enjoy this pregnancy. I hired two midwives I’d met at a home birth that I’d attended as a doula. They’d also studied at the birth center in El Paso and told me I should go there. I didn’t interview anyone else (1st mistake). I thought, “I like them, they’ll be great.” I had a primary midwife and her partner to assist. The primary midwife came to our home for prenatal visits where we chatted and laughed for hours. We’ll call her Mervis.

My due date was right around Mother’s Day which came and went. Labor began about a week later in the middle of the night, slowly and gently. I woke up with each contraction and decided to get out of bed because I couldn’t sleep (2nd mistake). I laid on the couch in our living room with our dog and sat up with each contraction to pet her in the dark. I was so excited! I started timing the contractions (3rd mistake). They were about 20 minutes apart, which meant I was still at the very beginning of labor. As a doula I should have known to drink a glass of wine, take a bath, and go back to bed. But I was completely enamored with everything birth and actively studying myself. I didn’t want to miss anything. In the morning labor slowed and I called my mom to tell her things were starting but it was still early (4th mistake). Her and my dad came over. They were so excited to become grandparents!

The plan was to stay home with my husband, our dogs, my parents, and the two midwives. My mom was there for support and my dad was the chef. His job was to make birthday cake so that the house would smell delicious when the baby was born. We spent the day resting and went for a short walk to the river. My midwife came over and checked my dilation (5th mistake) and said that my cervix was ripening (softening) but I was just barely dilated. This was disappointing as I’d already been up all night with contractions. When would it get going? What was I in store for and how long was this going to take?! I tried to rest and nap but was so excited and the house was full of people and energy.

The next night labor really got going and when I started puking I thought, “This is it! I must be close!” I’d seen many women at the birth center puke during active labor and have their babies soon after. We called the midwives to come over around 2:00am (6th mistake). They showed up and checked my dilation again and said I was just a few centimeters dilated. I labored and labored. Eventually Mervis checked and said I was 6 centimeters dilated and could get in the birth tub in our living room with super hot water (7th mistake). This felt amazing! My mom was thrilled and woke up my dad to come make the birthday cake (8th mistake). There was a lot of energy and expectation that the baby would be born soon but labor just kept going slowly and gently. The water in the birth tub was so hot and I couldn’t eat anymore or barely drink anything. I had cold cloths on my forehead and ate ice chips. I’d expected to eat throughout labor but got really nauseous and kept getting in and out of the birth tub because I felt overheated.

Eventually Mervis checked me again and said I was nearly fully dilated, 9.5 centimeters, with an anterior lip of the cervix and she offered to hold back the lip while I pushed sitting on the birth stool (9th mistake). I sat on the birth stool and Mervis reached inside my vagina and held back my cervix while I pushed with all my might. This was one of the most uncomfortable parts of labor and then my water broke. It was clear, which made everyone happy as this showed that the baby was not stressed, no meconium (baby poop). We also were tracking the baby’s heart tones which sounded good, within range (not too fast or slow) but we were detecting a heart arrhythmia (not completely rhythmic- it would skip a beat every now and then). Mervis and I discussed this and agreed it was not a sign of stress, since there were no accelerations, decelerations, or meconium in the waters.

At some point the assistant midwife got really scared, we’ll call her Susan. She was not ok with the heart arrhythmia. Susan jumped in and said we needed to transfer to the hospital. I was exhausted but still felt strong and could feel that my baby was strong too. I felt Baby jumping around and kicking inside me. Susan scared everyone and once a little fear gets in to the birth space and someone says something like, “Don’t you want to do what’s best for the baby?” It’s really hard to fight back. I remember asking if I could take one more bath at home and Susan said, “No, we need to go now.”

We transferred to the hospital in 3 cars and although I knew it wasn’t a true emergency, because we hadn’t called an ambulance, there was a good dose of fear and it felt emergent. I threw on a dress, grabbed my bag and made a plan with my parents about taking care of the dogs. At this point I was 3 days into labor, fully dilated (or so they said), and had already been pushing. We transferred around 6pm of day 3. We arrived at the hospital and were met by a boisterous crew of nurses who were very excited to see us, as we were the only ones birthing there that night. This was before Covid and there were no restrictions about who could come. I showed up with my husband, parents, and 2 midwives. Then we met a crew of nurses, an OB, a pediatric cardiologist (just in case) and her whole entourage.

Once we got to the hospital everything changed. I was hooked up to an IV, a fetal heart monitor was wrapped around my belly with a contraction monitor as well. Just these 3 things hugely changed the experience of labor. Suddenly my ability to move and follow the sensations in my body was dramatically hindered. Just to go pee I had to wheel this IV pole around attached to a bunch of wires. The monitors around my belly kept slipping, so a nurse would come in every so often to move them around. There were bright lights, beeping machines, and lots of strangers.

My birth went from being quiet and peaceful, for the most part, with a house full of people I knew, to being a medicalized event that buzzed around me. It was totally overstimulating. The hospital staff didn’t seem worried about the heart arrhythmia but once I was admitted as a patient it was nearly impossible to get out. We were told they hear heart arrhythmias all the time with babies and without accelerations or decelerations there was probably nothing to worry about. More often than not, the arrhythmias disappear within the first year of the baby’s life with no adverse symptoms. (This is what happened, his heart is perfect.)

I was pumped with fluids because they said I was dehydrated, but the baby’s head was already so low that I couldn’t pee. They gave me a catheter and this was the most painful part of labor and birth for me. When they pulled the catheter out it burned and stung. My urethra hurt for months after that. I agreed to get a tiny bit of pitocin (chemical oxytocin) through the IV to see if increasing the strength of the contractions would pull back what was being called a “stubborn anterior lip.” I’ve since read that “anterior lips” of the cervix are usually not a problem and just mean that the cervix isn’t fully dilated yet, so the best solution is usually rest and time. When we don’t do a bunch of vaginal exams to check dilation, we don’t find cervical lips and somehow babies are still born just fine.

My whole entourage, other than me and my mom fell asleep. We have these great photos of the 2 midwives, my husband and my dad passed out on the uncomfortable hospital couches. The obstetrician checked my dilation again and said that I was fully dilated and ready to push. Everyone woke up and cheered, getting ready for the baby to be born. No one asked me if I had the urge to push. All the information was gathered from the monitors and from the medical professionals, not the birthing person.

I was surrounded by people yelling, “Push!” Just like you see in the movies. I was instructed to take a deep breath, hold it, and push as hard as I could, like pooping (10th mistake). I was on my back (11th mistake) with one midwife holding me up from behind, my mom holding one leg and my husband holding the other. The obstetrician and nurse stood between my legs and everyone stared at my vagina in anticipation.

The pediatric cardiologist and her whole crew stood on the side line quietly waiting. I’d wanted to birth at home in the tub surrounded by family. But instead I ended up on my back (the worst way to birth!!! Would you ever poop lying on your back?) surrounded by strangers, bright lights, yelling, and hooked up to beeping machinery.

I pushed and pushed and pushed. The obstetrician said, “Wow, you’re very strong! You have the 6-pack of vaginas!” (Too many Kegels! 12th mistake) Then she said, “If you'd like I could give you the tiniest episiotomy.” Very casually, as if she was offering me a cup of coffee. Do you know what an episiotomy is? This is a barbaric tradition where they slice part of the perineum to open up more space for the baby to be born to speed up labor (it’s very rarely necessary in true medical emergencies). I flatly replied, “No thank you.” She laughed and said, “You’re even polite while you’re pushing!” I knew that episiotomies take a long time to heal and can cause scar tissue that may cause pain for the rest of your life.

I pushed that baby out just after midnight and scooped him up to my chest. Taking a big whiff of his hair I said, “You smell like cedar.” The baby had nicked me on the way out with his hand or elbow and I had a tiny tear on the inside of my vagina. The obstetrician said she needed to do sutures before the placenta was born because Baby had hit an artery. I’d never heard of doing this and will never know what really happened as she wasn’t a trusted provider, this was the first time we’d ever met. It’s normal for there to be a lot of blood at birth, and she may have been seeing the “separation gush” meaning the placenta was about to be born. Never the less, she cut the umbilical cord and sutured about a half inch spot inside my vagina on the right side, before pulling the placenta out. I later worked with a pelvic floor physical therapist and my husband to soften and heal the scar tissue so there wasn’t pain during sex (I’ll write about this later!).

Our baby nursed right away and was big and healthy. They let him stay on my chest for a little while before whisking him away to the cart to check his heart and do a bunch of tests. He was poked and prodded. Since he weighed 2 ounces over 8 pounds, they checked his glucose levels looking for diabetes. Everything looked and sounded good so he was given back to me but they wanted us to stay so he could be monitored overnight in the NICU (neonatal intensive unit). I was too tired after 3 days of labor to sit up with him in one of the uncomfortable NICU chairs, so my mom agreed to take the first shift and hold him on her lap while he was attached to a bunch of machines monitoring his heart. I slept for 6 hours before they woke me up to come and feed him.

I waddled across the hall to the NICU and held my baby. They kept telling me that everything looked good, that he seemed to be a healthy baby but we needed to stay longer just in case. We stayed another night, ate shitty hospital food, and watched the nurses and doctors come and go as their shifts ended. They wanted to keep checking my iron levels and my blood pressure every few hours, even through the night, until I freaked out, crying and yelling for them to get out of my room and let me sleep. It felt like the worst torture to go through 3 days of labor, have a healthy normal vaginal birth and then be woken up every few hours to be checked so that I couldn’t get any rest, even while my baby slept beside me.

I finally told them that I wouldn’t stay any longer. We were starting to feel like prisoners. I signed all the paperwork and the pediatric cardiologist gave us the run down of the heart monitor they were sending home with us attached to our baby’s chest. It was stuck on with very strong stickers attached to wires, connected to a small monitor. She said, “Just treat him like a normal baby.” I remember thinking, “He is a normal baby!” I’d worked so hard for a gentle birth, a gentle entry for our baby, with soft material, organic blankets and dim lights. Yet here we were taking him home with stickers on his fragile baby skin.

From the very beginning I had to tap into my ferocious mama-bear energy that knew in my bones that my baby was strong and healthy. I’d felt him inside me for the last 10 months and then birthed him and everything seemed to point to: strong healthy baby. He looked and felt beautiful and all the tests came back fine. So we went home battered and bruised to start our life as a young family.

In the moment that he was born I was filled with joy and oxytocin and fell in love with everyone in the room. I felt grateful and relieved that both Baby and I were healthy. Returning home, once the dust settled, I was left with a sense of confusion and anger. I couldn’t figure out why we’d ended up at the hospital or what I’d missed. When had the labor gone from being long, gentle, slow, and normal to being an emergency? I asked Mervis and she said that it was all Susan’s fault. Mervis told me that she’d wanted to stay home and thought that I was doing fine but that Susan didn’t trust birth since she’d never birthed a baby herself. Mervis also shared with me that Susan has her own heart condition and that she may have been projecting her condition onto my baby. We actually ran into Susan later at the hospital picking up the same heart monitor we used for baby Bodie. I was furious.

I was exhausted and heart broken while at the same time falling madly in love with this new baby. I was filled with hormones and now healing both from the normal physical work of having a baby and with the mental and emotional trauma of feeling betrayed and victimized in my most vulnerable hour. I’d trusted Mervis to be my midwife, to hold the space for me as I birthed, to trust birth, to only intervene if medically necessary. She’d let Susan come in and take charge. I thought surely I’d missed a conversation that my midwives had without me, where they decided what was best, but I found out later that they’d never discussed how to move forward. No one had asked me how I felt. Susan, the assistant, decided what she thought was best and announced it to the group, forever changing the course of my first birth.

This baby is now 4 and I was able to have the most beautiful redemptive birth with our second son 3 months ago (you can read about it here). I know it’s possible. I also know that this first birth wasn’t “my fault”... We all co-created this experience. I hadn’t realized how hard I would have to fight, how rebellious I would have to be to advocate for the un-medicalized undisturbed un-fucked-with birth of my dreams. This is a very rare experience, even at home with midwives. The midwives for this first birth were pretty interventive, with lots of vaginal exams. They stayed with us for almost 24 hours and tried to speed up labor when it had stalled, rather than taking this time to leave and let everyone rest. They didn’t practice the “midwifery model of care,” with informed consent as a central pillar, when they pushed us to go to the hospital without any signs or symptoms of stress from me or my baby.

The way we birth is important because it’s something we remember for the rest of our lives. Birth can make us feel empowered, able to surrender and be held in trust and reverence. Or it can make us feel gross, betrayed, weak and small. Birth can teach us to step into our power and to surrender to the incredible waves of strength pulsing through us. Birth can teach us to relax into intensity, to be completely held by something greater than ourselves, the roots of life. Birth can teach us to value our own creative life force and trust the process. Birth can teach us that we are enough without adding anything extra. Birth can teach us to trust ourselves, our bodies and the life force of our babies. Birth can teach us how to live.

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*In my next piece I’ll unravel all these mistakes that were made. Stay tuned!*

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Please share a comment to let me know how this writing landed with you. Share a birth story, birth aspirations, or any questions you have. How has birth affected your life? Let’s grow this community and support each other!