Oliver's (almost) Birth Story

I tend to worry. I get it from my mother. Each new week in my pregnancy I tracked the development of my growing baby and discovered new things to worry about. Those nine months were a constant challenge to practice trust in my body and to steer my thoughts from fear in order to manifest health and safety. It was a practice in the biology of belief.

I knew I wanted a homebirth before I was pregnant. Oddly enough, I had decided almost exactly a year before I gave birth, that I wanted to become a midwife. This decision came after reading Ina May Gaskin’s Spiritual Midwifery when I was trying to discover my next steps, post undergraduate degree. Midwifery seems to me a beautiful combination of human relationships and the science of medicine. And, of course, there has to be an opportunity for activism and creating positive change to keep my attention.

Andy and I had been living on the Frost Valley Farm for a little over two months when we found out I was pregnant in July. We weren’t sure where to find good prenatal care or midwives that would travel out to our country home. I was unsure we were good candidates for homebirth with the closest hospital 45 minutes away in perfect driving conditions (which are uncommon in our valley in early March). Even after we found our midwives and began preparing for our homebirth I struggled with the concern that we were too far from a hospital.

By some awesome stroke of luck (oh you universe, always putting us in the right place at the right time), two other Frost Valley families living in our one-road valley were also pregnant. It is now known as the “fertile valley.” Both women were planning homebirths with the same midwives and sang their praises of “the Susans.” These neighbors reassured me we were not too rural for a safe homebirth and that these midwives were the best ladies for the job.

A couple of weeks after the summer camp season ended on the farm I was lucky enough to encounter one of my neighbors in labor. We usually had chats in my front yard when she was out on walks with her two year old. This time her daughter wasn’t with her, and she was stopping for breaks with her hands on her knees. It was my first time seeing a woman in labor. I was excited for her and extremely curious how she was feeling. It was shocking how calm and happy she was; there were no signs of fear or unbearable pain. She acted as if it was any usual, late summer day we were meeting in our yard, only with pauses where she would stare at the ground and breath. Her husband was the only one showing nervousness.

Andy and I left them to it, but couldn’t stop wondering aloud how the birth was going next door. The next morning we found out that the baby was born soon after we saw them in our yard. Labor was only 6 hours long. We brought food over and caught a glimpse of a beautiful, brand new baby girl and glowing mother. After that I was totally psyched for my homebirth and wanted to do whatever I could to help it be a speedy and enjoyable birth. However my midwives were quick to remind me that that was a second birth, and that first time births usually go a lot longer.

From the first laid-back meeting with one of “the Susans” on our porch I felt at ease, and confident we were in good hands. I loved appointments with my midwives. They would talk to my baby as they measured my growing belly. I was emotionally supported and meticulously checked for physical health, all the while being invited and expected to participate in my own prenatal care. It was the most empowering health care I've ever experienced. 

My other pregnant neighbor quickly became a good friend as we carpooled to midwife appointments, chatting about pregnancy, birth, and parenting on the long drive. Knowing I want to be a midwife, she was kind enough to invite me to the birth of her third baby. That is a whole other incredible birth story in itself, but I will say here that it amazed me to watch the midwives care so peacefully for Jennie as she brought her baby boy into the world with such grace. Being at that birth not only made me fall deeply in love with the magic of natural birth, it also reaffirmed my decision to birth my baby surrounded by the same peace of home and the resolve of a mother easing her child forth with her own power.

Even with such great care, it was a challenge not to let worries get the best of me. I read and prepared the best I knew how- focusing on eating well, exercising, relaxing and visualizing a good birth. There were times I felt so scared my baby would be sick or that something would go terribly wrong at the birth and we wouldn’t get to the hospital in time. Worry seems to be common for a first time mother, but it doesn’t help that everyone loves telling a pregnant woman their birth horror stories and giving unfounded advice. Thank Goddess for my midwives! With each visit I developed more of a relationship with them and gained more confidence in the road ahead. This was especially crucial as my pregnancy shifted from healthy and easy, to a bit complicated in the last trimester.

My blood pressure had been rising until it reached the point at which it was time to start intervening. The midwives took a welcomed approach to managing my blood pressure involving herbal and homeopathic remedies that seemed to be helping.

The last few weeks of my pregnancy were, by far, the hardest part. A week before my due date my mom was admitted to the hospital to get a stint in her heart. Not surprisingly my blood pressure went up at the midwife visit the next day. The intensity of my prenatal care increased accordingly- this also correlated with the arrival of my long time friend and doula, David and his seven year old son who stayed at the farm to support our birth. What I had pictured as a relaxing and rejoicing time with friends, leading up to the big event, was instead stressful, swollen, uncomfortable, and worrisome. 

Andy and I had to drive an hour and a half to get ultrasounds every couple of days in the last week. They had discovered that my amniotic fluid was low and I was put on modified bed rest and told to drink 2 gallons of water a day. At this point I was a few days past my estimated due date- something I knew was a distinct possibility, but had not fully emotionally prepared. It seemed like the longer the pregnancy went the more complicated my health became. The saving grace was that the baby was doing well, regardless of my body’s malfunctions.