I
wrote this several weeks ago but never shared it because I haven't been
happy with it. I think I've realised that is because I am trying to
draw conclusions. I want to say, "This and this happened, this is what I
believe and feel about it and as usual, God had his way." It's not
working though. Because I actually don't know. I always like to know the
answer and have everything figured out but this time I don't. I haven't
thought through it much because it is big and tricky and emotional and I
am about ready to lay it at God's feet as something I just have to
trust him with. Perhaps. So now I edit and re-write again... Here is my account.
A loud popping sound momentarily rouses me from sleep. I doze back off.
Gush!
Gosh, my waters just broke! It's 2:30am. I am excited and overwhelmed.
Contractions
start straight away, intense in my back. My baby is posterior. They are
nothing like Braxton hicks or a miscarriage. It isn't the dreamy,
peaceful waiting time in bed with my husband that I expected, as things
gradually got stronger. This is strong now.
By
the way I've written this all before. About a month ago. I didn't save
it, my phone went flat and all the words are gone (don't you hate
that!?).
I
had written about the early labour. In bed, thinking I should squat
& W sit like I did during my miscarriage. How I tried lying down
instead and it was worse. How I could barely feel the contractions, all I
could feel was the pain in my lower back. How I kept saying I wanted my
midwife to come but then would talk myself out of it. How we finally
called her in at 7:30am and she found me sitting beside my husband on
the floor mattress, head leaning against him trying to relax through the
pain.
The back pain. Not uterus pain, just back pain.
I
shared how she got me to stand up, leaning forward, hands on the table
and how much better that was! How I wouldn't let them stop pushing hard
on my back during every contraction.... My amusement at flooding the bed
simultaneously with amniotic fluid and the soup I had eaten because
everyone said to eat in early labour.
I tried so hard to eat all day but managed only a few tiny mouthfuls.
I
loved labour. Not the first part. I loved the middle part. When they
let me get into the pool. The birth pool was in my lounge room in front
of the heat pump. I couldn't stay under the water because I had to kneel
or stand up for contractions but the water was lovely on my lower half.
They wrapped warm towels around my shoulders. I hated them talking
during contractions but I could hardly talk to tell them to stop
talking!
That's about where I got up to the first time I wrote this. Now for the rest...
At
some point I suddenly went quiet. I remember the midwife saying to the
other midwife "She's gone quiet." I didn't need to talk or make noise
anymore. I focused in.
The
midwife gave me a job to do. She told me to try not to push. I loved
having something to do rather than swimming in what my body was doing to
me.
I
don't remember pain. The back pain eased. I had no sense of time. I was
unaware of what was going on in my house. I was so totally drugged on
hormones.
A
few times I said "I can't do this anymore." "Tell me it will be over
soon!" I pleaded but they wouldn't say that. They just said "it will
take as long as it takes." It made me mad but then I would forget about
the whole thing and go off into the contractions again. The best feeling was finally being allowed to let the contractions push.
Before long she said "I can see the head!" I was thrilled that it had come so fast.
I
needed to get out of the pool to try to get the baby to descend more.
We tried the floor, we tried the toilet, but I was feeling uptight
because of a vision God had showed me days ago. I had seen a vision of
me birthing on a birth stool in my kitchen. I was shocked by the
location. I was thinking "I'm sure I need the stool," so I was so
relieved when someone suggested the birth stool. One of the midwifes drove to get it.
We
put it in the kitchen. I stood and leaned on the oven. The contractions
were sometimes more intense and sometimes less. Sometimes I let go more
and let the hormones work. The
baby was having trouble coming down. I had to push past the force of
the contractions. Three massive pushes to one contraction. I had to
start doing hard work. That's when it got exhausting.
His
heart beat sounded fine. He moved down a little. He still wasn't coming
out. We changed rooms again. We did other things to try to help.
"It might be time to start thinking about getting some help to get this baby out," said the midwife.
But
God had promised me a home birth. He had said "believe and fight for
the birth you want." And I had seen myself on the stool in the kitchen.
"I'm going back to the kitchen."
"Baby
come out! Please! God please make him come out!" I begged. My husband
and I were in the kitchen pleading with God and believing for his
promise.
I've
been pushing for hours by now. This is where I could leave out a few
details and make it all seem 'okay'. But I won't. My baby went into
distress and he wasn't really okay. We saw meconium. We quickly put
pyjamas on me and I got into the front seat of the car. We went to the
hospital. It was a five minute drive. I was wheeled to the birthing
room. "We need to act fast!" Said the doctors. His heart rate was very
low. There were half a dozen people in the room. They said it might be a cesarean but they wanted to feel my pushing strength first. They said
it was great pushing and they got the suction onto his head. One
contraction with a small suction and his head was out. I didn't feel
it. Another suction and his body slid out. I felt the slippery body. His
shoulders had been a bit stuck too. He came out completely posterior
- face up. They wouldn't let us leave the cord attached. They took him
to the table. He was healthy and doing well. They put him on my chest a
few minutes later. He was an unfamiliar face but I loved him. I never
got to see his cord attached or my placenta. I am very disappointed
about that.
He
was ten pound five ounces, 4.68 kilos and approximately 56 centimetres
long. He was too long for the measuring strip. He was born at 7:18pm,
half an hour after we decided to head to the hospital.
So many thoughts.
Was
my home birth dangerous? Yes. If you mean my baby was on the brink of
harm. Or death. It took me weeks to admit that to myself.
Did I ever think he would die? No. Never. Because God had promised him to me. Alive and in my arms.
Did
I not get the home birth God promised? I never actually saw my baby in
my vision of me in the kitchen. He actually never promised I would have
him born at home. I always make assumptions, I always want to know too
much. God never let me down.
Should
I have gone to the hospital sooner? Maybe. Maybe not. We were waiting
for God's leading. I was also being stubborn based on my own version of
the promise.
Should I have had a planned home birth? Yes. God told me to fight for it.
Should I have had a planned hospital birth? No. God never led me to the hospital.
Should I have had an induction before he got so big? No. God clearly told me to wait.
Was he ever really in danger? God was holding him.
Would I go back and change anything? I don't know.
That is because I don't know if I was following God in the end or if my stubbornness was in the way.
I
affected the pregnancy and birth in a million ways. My fear,
stubbornness, reluctance, striving, perfectionism, lack of surrender.
Honestly, it could have gone so much better if I had gotten out of the
way. But I did my best. Oh I tried. I
couldn't have tried harder and God's miraculous hand was obvious so
Micahs birth just was what it was and I want to be at peace with it.
People
would say to me after Micah's birth, "I'm sorry you didn't get the
birth you wanted." That always surprised me because I felt like I had
gotten the birth I wanted. It hadn't ended the way I would have liked
but almost the whole thing was great. I was at home, I was in the zone
and my body was working beautifully. Mostly I couldn't shake the feeling
that it had gone the way it was supposed to go. It was the best it
could be.
God
told me weeks before labour, "It will be hard but you can do it." I
wanted to do a course or read birthing method books, to do exercises or
learn techniques, I really really wanted to and was so stressed when I
hadn't started yet! But He
didn't want me to. I asked him what I should do for the labour and he
said "Be like a child." He didn't want my wisdom or my knowledge or my
ability. He
wanted me to fully lean on him. I did. Micah's birth was described as a
miracle by some, a risky emergency by others. I have a video from the
moments after birth and the midwife says "It's amazing the way you got
that baby out!" Micah was so big and so back to front but I still pushed
him out. I think it truly was a miracle.
