Susanna’s Birth Story
When I think of our second daughter’s birth, the word that forms in my mind is ordinary. I can’t quite put my finger on why. And it’s surprising, given the life-changing wild and transcendent experience of my first daughter’s birth (her birth story is here).
As I turn the word over, I remember laying in our bed, the morning light in the room, opening my eyes as one contraction slowly released. Michael was filling the birth pool just across the room. Golden ripples from sun and water floated on the walls and across his face. He was deep in thought and didn’t notice me watching him. I heard the quiet sound of the hose pouring into the pool. Water and light. Steam rising. My partner. Our bedroom. All so beautiful and so ordinary. Another surge began to build and I closed my eyes to breathe.
The day before was her "due" date. It was a Thursday so Margie spent the day at daycare and Michael and I filled the day with ordinary things. Braxton Hicks contractions had begun to organize into waves. They were still sporadic and relatively low intensity but they had a beginning, a peak and a release, that shape that becomes so familiar during labor.
Michael and Margie had salt cured salmon and I made fresh pesto from basil grown on the farm. We ate well. I took a nap and went for an afternoon walk with a good friend. That night we had dinner together and tucked Margie into her crib. It was a hot summer day. I had one last commitment on my calendar - to attend a talk on native plants and pollinators organized by a friend. Walking into the meeting hall at Immaculate Conception church, I had to stop on the sidewalk and breathe through a wave. My friend saw me, laughed and waved me into the air conditioning saying, “You’re almost there!” I joked with the speaker that if I were to leave suddenly, it had nothing to do with his presentation. Over the course of the talk I had four or five increasingly intense contractions but I enjoyed learning about the incredible partnerships between native plants and pollinators that were forged through evolution and how they support entire ecosystems.
That night, back home, I told Michael we should probably tidy up the house and get ready because the intensity and frequency were increasing. On the other hand I knew they could also slow right down when I slept. We went to bed and the waves kept coming. They were not close, 15 minutes apart, but the intensity was increasing. The warmth of Michael’s body wrapped around mine helped me relax into each surge. I texted our midwives at just before 1 a.m. to report the increasing intensity. And then I started tracking the contractions and checked in again with them just before 4 a.m. I had not slept at all but I was resting between waves, enjoying the quiet darkness and Michael’s steady breathing and marveling at the work my body was doing.
By 6:30 a.m. Michael and I were both awake. I knew I was in early labor and suspected that the frequency of the contractions would increase as soon as I started moving around. Michael’s biggest concern with home birth was that the midwives would not make it in time and he would be on his own supporting me when our baby was born. So while I described the sensations, intensity and frequency of my contractions via our group text with the midwives, his texts to the group focused on when exactly they would arrive. I laughed and told him they were professionals and would come at the right time. I called my mom to tell her about the night and ask her if she could come and help with Margie. By the time I made it downstairs, moving between contractions, she had arrived and gotten Margie dressed and ready for a fun morning. Our hope and plan was that Margie would be present for whatever part of the labor and birth she wanted to be. My mom’s role was to be really tuned into Margie to make that possible. So they went out and about to play with her cousins on the farm and gather some food for the birth team.
Meanwhile I went back upstairs and crawled into our bed, breathing through wave after wave. I had hoped that the contractions for this birth would feel different from Margie’s birth. With her, the pain was sharp and in my back. She was born posterior after a very long labor and I hoped, of course, that this baby would gently and quickly make her way through my pelvis without back labor. The sensations were, however, exactly the same. For a time, I was discouraged by this. I thought it could be another very long labor. I hadn’t had any birth show by this point, nor had I noticed my uterine seal releasing so I worried my cervix had barely begun to open, even after a long night of work. But I could also feel this baby moving down through my pelvis. I could feel her participating in this work with me and I knew she was getting lower and lower. So I released the fear and embraced this as a new birth, all its own. Michael brought a hot pad up and put it on my back, it felt so good and helped me relax and release. It was between my mom leaving with Margie and the midwives arriving that I fell completely into the rhythm and work of labor. I could no longer text the midwives or time contractions or think about anything beyond the labor. I just worked through each surge, inhaling and low moaning, breath by breath.
The midwives arrived - first Kennedy, the student midwife, then Maria and Sarafina. Kennedy gently took our vitals and then helped Michael prepare the pool. It was so good to know she was there, capable and helping Michael. When Maria arrived, her greeting “Hi friend” brought me such comfort - she has a lovely warmth about her and I didn’t even need to open my eyes to know it was her. When Sarafina joined us, I was probably entering transition because I remember feeling a jolt of fear. I hadn’t packed a bag for the hospital. What if we needed to go? What if the baby was stuck? Somehow, Sarafina offered the perfect affirmation in that moment, “You are safe,” she said. And those words covered me in comfort. I knew she was right. I was safe, the baby was safe, all was absolutely well. Maybe before then I told Sarafina I was thinking about asking her to check my cervix. She asked me whether the information would change anything I was doing. I smiled, recognizing the wisdom in that question, and said, “No, it would just be encouraging if it was encouraging or discouraging if it was discouraging.” I didn’t ask for the check.
I hadn’t emptied my bladder in what felt like hours. And I knew it would be a good idea to do that. Having a full bladder can increase the intensity of the sensations of the contractions and getting up and walking is always a good thing in labor. But getting up and walking also really increases the intensity of the sensations of the contractions, so I didn’t really want to do it. Maria and Sarafina helped me make my way to the bathroom. There was blood! I was so happy to see it, since I knew it meant cervical change. I labored in the bathroom for a few contractions and asked about the birthing pool. Was it ready? My birth team said they needed to cool it off a little bit but it would be ready shortly. So I stayed in the bathroom until I could crawl into the pool. I was really looking forward to the warmth of the water and the lightening of my body in the pool.
I stepped into the pool and felt the soft foamy floor and the plastic liner and the water. I rested my head on the side and let the warm, warm water hold my belly on hands and knees. Maria gave me the most lovely counter pressure between contractions. Her touch was so comforting. Margie came in with my mom. It was good to see her and also hard because these contractions were taking my entire being - every bit of focus, breath, strength to work through. My mom and Margie went back downstairs while I continued working in the water.
One of the midwives said she thought I was close when I felt the first urge to push. I said, “No, I felt this way with Margie and I was only 8 centimeters.” Then someone turned off the window air conditioner. I was hot in the steamy water and asked why they turned it off. Someone said, “Because you’re about to have a baby.” I think that is when I started to really believe that I could be almost done.
As I entered stage two, our birth team reminded me to work with the surges gently and to only push when I really felt the urge. I could feel my perineum stretching, making space for the baby. And I could feel something else too. The midwives told me my bag of waters, which was still intact, was bulging. I could feel that. I could feel my vagina held open by the bag. I asked if we needed to do anything and they said, no, just keep doing what you are doing. My mom, Margie and Michael were back now. Margie and my mom were right beside me next to the pool and Michael watched us all from the other side of the pool. Then her head was born into her intact amniotic sac. Our birth team encouraged me to rest there and wait for the next contraction to build and then to work with it to bring her forth. I rested there. She and I between two worlds. And my body gathered strength for the final push. She was born in the veil, life and blood surging into the water. I have always thought the blood mixing into water in water birth is so beautiful. And there it was blooming out of my body while my baby girl’s veil was lifted over her face and I took her in my arms. Relaxing back into the water. Feeling her weight, her texture, her cry, her big sister’s hands in the water next to me, on my shoulder. My mom crying. Michael. Perfect, ordinary joy.
I am caught up in the ordinary, in the exquisite rhythm of life, in motherhood. How profoundly blessed I am to be called ever more deeply into this sacred identity.
Our second daughter was born en caul or in the veil on July 16th 2021 at 11:52 a.m. An en caul birth is rare. Only one in 80,000 babies enter the outside world in intact amniotic sacs. Thinking on this little one’s story, it is fitting. Her life began in the wake of miscarriage. Salt water in tears and the womb carried us into the overwhelming joy of new life. To me one of the mysteries of motherhood is the capacity for my heart to hold exquisite grief and joy in the same moment. Neither lessened or overshadowed by the other, existing perfectly together.
Midwives: BirthMatters Midwifery (I give my highest recommendation possible for this group of midwives. The evidence-based care and partnership before, during and after birth were just amazing.)
Photography: My mom, our midwives and Kori Gallant (who I have a hilarious half-finished text to saying something like “You might want to come soon it’s getting inten…” so she made it just after the birth).
“Ordinary Time is a time for growth and maturation, a time in which the mystery of Christ is called to penetrate ever more deeply into history until all things are finally caught up in Christ.” (Reference)
