Jill's Birth of Marble Ann
Sunday, January 15, 2012 at 4:47PM I’ve been trying to think about how to write Marble’s birth story for a couple of months. It’s so hard to put into words an experience that seems to defy description. I’m the only person I know who chose this kind of birth experience. And I didn’t even really choose it. We were already 36 weeks pregnant when I was suddenly without a midwife. But I need to back up… her story doesn’t begin with her birth.
A year ago this month I was getting ready to have surgery for a second time, with a second doctor for the same problem. I was the lucky 1% of cervical cancer patients for whom the disease does not behave in the typical slow growing way. My original doctor had walked into the room following my first surgery and said “I’m not happy. You need a radical hysterectomy. I want to remove your uterus, your ovaries, fallopian tubes, and at least half of your vagina.” I was devastated. I couldn’t even really begin to process what he was telling me. He kept talking but I was no longer really hearing anything he was saying. Drew was in the waiting room and I was trying to remember why in the world I had told him to wait there instead of coming back with me. I was just not expecting anything other than to be told that I was good to go and to make an appointment to come back in six months. The idea that they had failed to remove all the cancer cells, or that the cancer cells were especially fast growing never entered my mind. But I just couldn’t accept what I was being told and I made an appointment for a second opinion.
A few weeks later I was sitting in Dr. A__’s office with tears running down my face. I told him that if I had to have a hysterectomy they would need to admit me into a psych ward following the surgery. I knew, absolutely knew that having everything that made me female removed would throw me into such a severe depression that I wouldn’t be able to function. I wanted to marry Drew. I wanted to be able to have a baby with him. He deserved to have kids of his own. And even though he kept telling me that he loved me much more than some fictional future baby, I couldn’t stand the idea of him never having kids. I had to at least try. So I sat there while the Dr. read through my medical history, surgical notes, and felt like my life was in his hands. Finally, he put down the papers and told me that while a hysterectomy was not unwarranted in my case, he understood my feelings and would be willing to try a slightly more radical version of the surgery I’d just had. He told me he would consult with a gynecological oncologist and make sure what he was planning would be effective.
We talked about my future fertility. He made clear to me that if nothing else he felt sure that this surgery would at least buy me time to get pregnant again and have a baby. He said that cervical cancer is a strange animal and that while mine had progressed past the pre-cancerous/dysplasia phase it was still early enough that the treatments could still be the same and that pregnancy might be enough to cure it completely. We scheduled my surgery for approximately midway through my menstrual cycle. He wanted to remove as much uterine lining as possible. He would be removing my IUD during the surgery and I told him to leave it out. I would likely have only a small window of time to be able to conceive before I finally had to relent to a hysterectomy, so our plan was to get pregnant in October. That would give my body four months to heal from the surgery- the minimum amount of time that my doctor said would be safe. Ideally I would have 6 months to heal, but 4 months would be adequate.
By this point Drew and I were married but still living in separate states. He was planning to move to FL after the summer was over. So I was anxiously waiting for my husband to arrive the night before my surgery. I needed him to calm me down as I was a nervous wreck. We had to be at the hospital really early and my best friend Julie was going with us. We knew romance would be out of the question for most of the summer so we had one last “hurrah” the night before. Then it was off to the hospital!
I remember almost nothing about the day of my surgery. I remember reminding them over and over that I’m allergic to latex and iodine. I’m told that I woke up immediately asking for Drew and that I was dropping F bombs really loud. We had to go back to TN right after my surgery. So while I was still out of it, we loaded up the car and the dog and made the eight hour trip. I don’t remember any of it except that periodically Drew kept waking me up to yell at me for something. In my drugged up incoherent sleep I apparently kept unplugging the gps.
I started to finally wake up when we were getting close to Drew’s house in TN and I was starting to be in a LOT of pain. Somehow Drew got my pitiful self into the house and into bed and knocked me out with some morphine. The next couple weeks pretty much involved me laying around being treated like a princess. But I really was feeling extremely well. After being in so much pain for so long, and being sick for more than a year, it was amazing to feel just a little achy and sore. I told Drew that I could just tell a difference. I just felt like my body was already healthier.
However, emotionally and mentally I felt like I was coming unglued. I was having what I can only describe as anxiety attacks. I was afraid of being alone. I was over reacting to the slightest thing. I was jittery and my mood swings were all over the place. I felt on edge and I couldn’t easily explain what was bothering me. I talked to a friend who pointed out that I had just been through a lot. A WHOLE lot. Being sick can really mess with your head. I likely was just needing time to process everything that had happened and needed to be gentle with myself. That made sense and so I tried to just calm down and let Drew take over everything while I just tried to feel better.
I was feeling physically better than I had in more than a year. I was feeling so good that we disregarded the doctor’s orders of bedrest and went to a baseball game on the fourth of July. And since we’re terrible rule followers, we had sex too. I wasn’t worried about getting pregnant and actually thought that I’d already had my period. They had told me not to expect a normal period… that it would be more like minimal spotting. Which is exactly what it was- although I felt sort of nauseated and crampy too.
A week or so later I was still feeling strange and emotional. I was standing in the living room when it suddenly hit me that I wasn’t feeling panic attacks or symptoms of depression. I was feeling… pregnant. And then once I realized that I was absolutely, positively certain of it. I was pregnant. When Drew came home I told him that I was pregnant and he laughed. I laughed too but over the next few days kept making comments about “the baby”. We went to Chattanooga and decided to do a ropes course with zip lines. There were signs saying that if you were pregnant not to participate. I pointed them out to Drew and told him I shouldn’t do it. That it would be bad for the baby. He just kept laughing and telling me that I was crazy and of course I wasn’t pregnant and that I’d just had my period and to just put on the harness and knock it off with all the crazy baby talk already!!
The next day we were at the store and I picked up a pregnancy test. Drew was laughing at me and telling me I was wasting my money. I knew I was pregnant, there was no doubt in my mind that I was. I figured that I got pregnant on the 4th of July. However it was only July 13th. Everything that I have ever known or taught to people about pregnancy testing is that the absolute earliest you can test and get an accurate response was 10 days past ovulation. So, even though I was certain that I was pregnant, I wasn’t expecting the test to be positive. If I had not ovulated until the 5th or 6th of July, the test wouldn’t be accurate for a couple more days. But of course It’s impossible to resist peeing on the stick immediately so I bought a double pack. I knew I would want to test as soon as we got home.
Drew was doing some homework and I went into the bathroom. He’d already completely forgotten that we bought pregnancy tests. I peed on the stick and it instantly showed up two dark unmistakably POSITIVE lines!! Then I was completely confused because it really should have been too early for the test to be accurate. The only other time we’d had sex was the night before my surgery. I still had an IUD at that time. And of course there was NO WAY a pregnancy could have survived all the lasering and cutting and scraping I’d just endured. They had removed a third of my cervix and scraped my entire uterus to remove all the lining.
I walked into the room and tossed the pregnancy test on the table. Drew distractedly moved it to the side. I said “aren’t you going to look at it??”. He thought we had to wait several minutes but I told him to go ahead and look. The look on his face was absolutely priceless!! Then I, of course, started to cry and said “I TOLD you I was pregnant!!” So Drew went to the store to buy 47 more pregnancy tests… all of which were positive.
My post-op appointment was still a couple weeks away but I called the doctor’s office to inform them of these recent developments. We were still assuming that I had conceived somewhere around the 4th of July and they immediately reprimanded me for not following the bedrest rules. I promised to behave and went back to bed and stayed there until we returned to FL a couple weeks later.
I went to my post-op appointment alone as Drew had already returned to TN. We didn’t know if the surgery had been successful or not. We didn’t know if my body was healthy enough to sustain a pregnancy or, if I should even try. We discussed terminating if it was going to be too difficult or dangerous for me to be pregnant. I hated that thought but I also had four children that were already here and needed me. So I was a nervous wreck and hoping the doctor would give me some good news.
As he prepped me for a vaginal ultrasound he warned that there wouldn’t be a whole lot to see. I was so early pregnant that anything there would just be a gestational sack. He performed the ultra-sound and said “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re almost 8 weeks pregnant. Look…. You can see the heartbeat!” He stared at the screen and said “Well my dear, you got your wish. You’re pregnant. I can’t even begin to calculate the odds of this happening.” Somehow in spite of the IUD, the surgery, the medicines, the illness, the scraping/lasering/cutting… somehow I had conceived and my body had protected my baby. And there she was… like a tiny pulsating jelly bean.
Once I was back in FL my main concern was finding a midwife and planning a homebirth. Although I was considered high risk and would have to be seen by a perinatologist throughout the pregnancy I still was hoping that I would ultimately be able to have a homebirth. The main concerns were that my cervix would hang in there and I would sustatin the pregnancy. Ideally I would have had 4-6 months to heal before getting pregnant. As it was, my body was conceiving as they were operating. I had NO time to heal before my cervix had to keep my baby inside.
I was sad that the midwife I had worked with for so many years had moved away. She was sad too but assured me that I would still have a beautiful birth. We quickly found a midwife in a town about an hour away. We emailed back and forth and she seemed very kind. I couldn’t wait to meet her and scheduled my first prenatal appointment with her for when Drew would be her so we could go together. I have a lot of experience with midwifery in my own right so while I wanted to just play the part of the average pregnant mom, I had to accept the fact that I’m not. So I wanted a midwife who would really empower me to trust my skills and experience. I had been through so much that my faith in my body and in the process ofbirth was very shaken. I needed to be with someone who believed in me and trusted my body when I couldn’t. Drew of course had been hearing all kinds of stories about midwives and births and was totally on board with a homebirth. He trusted me implicitly.
We arrived at our first prenatal and I was slightly surprised to see that the midwife was wearing a white coat. It surprised me because it was just so very medical. We went into her office and discussed my birth history, my medical history, and why we wanted a homebirth. It turned out that she had done part of her training up in the DC area and her supervising midwife , Alice, was the same midwife I used with my son Aidan. I was very excited about that coincidence and told her how much I had loved that birth and how close my relationship with Alice had been. Oddly she didn’t seem very interested or excited by this. She also was not interested in hearing about my past homebirth experiences- either my own or ones I had attended. She struck me as a lot more clinical as I was used too. I told myself that she was nice and that she didn’t need to be my best friend. She just needed to be there to guard my birth. I knew I could surround myself with plenty of friends who would give me whatever warm fuzzies I might need to get through it.
Sadly, as the months went by our relationship never seemed to get better. She was always very formal in dealing with us. We felt like she just plain didn’t like us. She was not supportive when I told her that I wanted a lot of my birth junky friends at my birth. She said that she “had very strong feelings” about that. It turned out that she had “very strong feelings” about a lot of things. She told us horror stories about babies who had died when we questioned whether or not to be tested for group beta strep. She constantly reminded me that my cervix might prove to be incompetent (even after the perinatologist declared me to be low risk and wasn’t worried about my cervix at all) and to be prepared for a hospital transfer. Since I have a history of prodromal labor she declared that since she was so far away, when I started up with early labor signs she would just come out and break my water “to get things started.”
She told us she had done that with her sister… at only 36 weeks pregnant.
I wanted a certain person to be present at my birth as a birth assistant but she refused to allow that. When I tried to discuss it she told me that she would not use this person as a birth assistant and would not attend a birth that this person was present at. So I suggested someone else... she said that person was only a secondary birth assistant and not qualified to be a primary. Even though I found out later it was who she had used at her own sister’s birth. She told me that I could not choose my own birth assistant. This bothered me since I have had homebirths in three states, have worked as a birth assistant, and the parents have ALWAYS had a say in who is prsent. That kind of control and say so is a HUGE part of why people choose homebirths to begin with.
My anxiety over this birth was mounting and I was just terrified. My midwife was not helping to empower me at all. Every time I left her office I felt more scared and more upset. Drew and I had actually even had arguments over things when we left her office. Instead of leaving our prenatal appointments feeling excited, we were leaving them feeling stressed out and frustrated. She would explain things to me and refused to listen to my opinion on them. She discounted all of my personal experience. I talked it over with people who had worked with her, and at our childbirth classes, we brought it up too. We were told that while she has a reputation for being hard to read, that she is wonderful in labor. Still, I was not happy and wished that I had a midwife that I felt truly cared for me and wanted what was best. She just didn’t seem that interested in my personal feelings.
I finally decided that we needed to have a heart to heart. I went to my next prenatal alone and told her that I was concerned. I said that I was getting ready to invite her into my home, to feel around inside my body, and to help me bring my baby into this world. I told her that I didn’t feel like we developed that trusting relationship that is so important and I really wanted to talk it out and try and get on the same page. I said “C___, I’m getting ready to invite you to be part of the most intimate moment in our lives, and I’m not even sure you know my husband’s name!” She stared at me and then said “well how many appointments has he been too??” I told her that he’d been to all but two. I reminded her that she had just emailed the night before and that his name is in my email address. Then I said “his name is right there on my chart that is in your hand!” She gave me a hostile look and said “it’s not important if I know his name or not.” I stared at her in shock and said that it was VERY important to me that my midwife know my husband’s name! He’s the father of the baby! Of course she should know his name!
She stood up and told me that she had wasted enough time with me. She told me that she had a “business to run” that she had other clients coming and since we were obviously not a good fit there was no sense wasting more time. She told me she had already lost money with me (we were bartering for services) and she could have given my slot on her calendar to someone with a lot more money. I was stunned. I was completely taken aback. At one point I asked her to please sit down and stop raising her voice at me. I told her that I still felt like we could salvage our relationship and that my goal had been to discuss things civilly and hopefully get to a place where we felt good about working together. She said she was not interested and that she would be sending me a form that I could sign and have my records sent. At this point I realized I could not trust this woman. I did not feel safe with her and she was not a good fit for us. I didn’t feel empowered or strong. I felt terrified. I was 36 weeks pregnant.
Once we made the decision (or the decision was made for us) not to use this particular midwife, all my anxiety and fear about the birth disappeared. I told a friend that apparently it wasn’t the birth that had me so worried… it was the midwife. She was just not a good fit for us. I couldn’t get what I desperately needed from her. I needed someone who had total confidence and faith in me. I needed someone that loved birth, who loved the art of midwifery, who didn’t have a “business to run” but a calling to answer. I needed a midwife like all the other midwives I’ve known and used. A midwife like me.
Drew immediately suggested that we just do the birth ourselves. He had total confidence and faith in us. I was still very worried about “what if ____ ?” We considered traveling out of state. We considered driving to a birth center hours away. When my forms arrived from the ex-midwife she referred me to three area obstetricians. She never mentioned a midwife that I didn’t discover until after my baby was born. A nurse midwife in Panama City who is absolutely everything a midwife should be. The panama city midwife didn’t understand why we weren’t referred to her either. We feel like this is just another example of how C___ just really didn’t care about us at all. When we have another baby we will use Suzy Martincak in Panama City for sure!
I slowly began to realize that what I had been wanting and needing throughout this birth was something relatively simple. I needed someone that I trusted and I needed to borrow strength from that person when I ran out of my own. Drew is my perfectly designed other half. He is the epitome of soul mate. He loves me like no one has ever loved me before and I know he would never allow anything bad to happen to me. I decided to trust my husband even if I didn’t fully trust myself. We would have this baby on our own. We’d do it together… like we do everything.
I had a lot of midwifery supplies and tools just from having worked on that side of the belly for so long. But I went ahead and bought absolutely everything we could possibly need. I could have outfitted a small birth center with my purchases! But it made me feel better to know that we had all the proper instruments, tools, herbs, bells whistles… even contraband drugs ;). Drew started reading my midwifery textbooks and I gave him lessons on a few things like how to count the heartbeat with the Doppler, and how to perform a cervical exam. I was feeling more and more confident by the day. And oddly…. hardly anyone we told our plans too thought we were nuts. Most people thought it made perfect sense that I would be my own midwife.
I had invited pretty much everyone I knew who was interested in birth. But the driving force behind that was the need to feel like I had plenty of people on my side and cheering me on. I didn’t have that need anymore once the midwife was out of the picture. I still wanted people around me, but I scaled it back to people who were skilled and experienced in attending births. In case there was a problem I wanted there to be people there who could assess and make quick decisions. So the guest list was narrowed down to my mother, my daughter, and two friends who are doulas and childbirth assistants.
I was really hoping that I would follow my pattern of going early and would have the baby in February. But that was not the case. March was half over by the time labor signs finally started showing up. The morning of the 15th I had some bloody show. I showed Drew and started to cry. I told him it was a good sign that we’d be having a baby sometime in the next 24-72 hours. His brother and sister in law (Danny and Ashley) were town so of course we were hoping we’d have the baby while they were here. I had periodic contractions throughout the day. We hung out with Danny and Ashley, ate thai food, picked up some last minute supplies and pretty much just waited. I made a million phone calls to my midwife friend "D" and put the rest of my birth team on notice. Unfortunately one of my friends who was supposed to come ended up not being able to because her daughter had a terrible stomach bug.
I had more contractions throughout the night and the next morning I called Julie and told her she might want to think about calling out of work that day and heading down to Navarre. I was very afraid of being a “watched pot” so I didn’t want everyone assembling at my house too soon. So I told Julie to go to my mom’s house. By the time she got to my mom’s house I was ready for her to be here. So she came on over.
My biggest concern about this labor was whether or not I would be able to self assess. Typically when I’m in labor I’m completely out of touch with reality. I don’t know what’s going on around me and I’m completely inward. If something was going wrong I would have had no idea. I can’t answer questions, can’t tell people what’s going on… I’m just this animalistic being incapable of rational thought. Every other birth, by the time I’m handed the baby I’m so shocked and amazed that I don’t think I’d react differently if I’d been handed a puppy. I just become so completely out of touch with my body.
So knowing that the responsibility for guarding this birth was almost entirely on me was pretty nerve wracking. Although I trusted everyone else, I was the only one in the room who had been to lots and lots of homebirths, the only one who had ever caught a baby at a homebirth, the only one who routinely assisted at births and had had to make quick decisions. I was the only MIDWIFE there. I knew I was a good midwife, I knew I was a good birther. I just wasn’t sure if I could be BOTH. I think that inability to be able to completely let go is part of the reason my labor was so long. There was part of my mind that had to stay present and rational.
A few days prior I had been listening to the baby and heard cord sounds below her heart tones. I was pretty sure that the cord was around her neck at least once but I didn’t mention it to Drew because I didn’t want to scare him. I figured we would deal with it at the time if that was the case. My body was laboring along but never really settled into a pattern. My contractions were all over the map. I would have one that lasted 30 seconds and then 2 minutes later I would have one that was over a minute. Then I might not have another one for 20 minutes. But then would have 3 that were five minutes apart lasting around 90 seconds. This is one of the great things about being at home. We could just be mildly interested in my labor pattern: “oh look I’m having another one. That’s nice.” We weren’t obsessively monitoring or charting or worrying about it. My body was doing what it needed to do and my baby sounded just fine.
After several hours of intermittent labor I wanted to get in the tub. I wasn’t too worried about it being too soon but I had Drew check me anyway. I was around 5 cm. I loved being in the tub. The tub had been my happy place all throughout my pregnancy and it was my favorite spot during labor. I’ve never wanted or desired a water birth. But there really is just something truly magical about water in labor. Julie and Drew had told me that I could have the baby anywhere I wanted but not in the bathtub. It was just too dark and cramped an area and they couldn’t get to me to help out very easily. I also had an old crib mattress on the floor. It was great because I had somewhere cushy enough to kneel, or get into a hands and knees position on, but firm enough that the baby could be born on it, and people could assist if they needed too. I highly recommend that to anyone else planning a homebirth. I had actually planned on trying to end up on that crib mattress when I gave birth.
I’m not always the nicest person in labor. At one point Julie was texting someone on her phone and I asked her if she was almost done. She said yes and I said something like “ok good. And just so you know I’m about two contractions away from taking your phone and throwing it at the wall. Don’t text anymore.” Julie is a veteran doula so she said ok and put her phone away. It also was irritating me when they Drew and Julie would try to time my contractions. They weren’t really coming in any kind of pattern and as far as I was concerned it didn’t really matter whether they were 30 seconds or 90 seconds or 5 minutes apart or 20 minutes apart. By the time I was in active labor I had rediscovered my instincts and I knew, I just knew that everything was fine. I told them that really the labor couldn’t be getting any better. I was able to talk and explain things. I was self assessing just fine. So when I saw them trying to sneakily time contractions with their phones, it just amused me.
After awhile I was ready to try and do something to kick labor into a higher gear. So Drew and I went for a walk up and down my street. Julie and Aubrey also left for awhile so Drew and I could be alone. I said to Julie that I REALLY didn’t want to have sex… but it might come to that! Ha! I had Drew check me again… he thought I was still somewhere around 5 but he still wasn’t sure. He was so amazing through this labor. I don’t know many other first time dads that are that confident and willing to participate to the level that Drew did. He held me through every contraction and told me I was beautiful, strong, amazing and doing a great job. Around 9:30pm I started to get worried. Each contraction was requiring so much concentration that I felt like I was losing the ability to stay present and in control and aware. I couldn’t count her hearttones, I couldn’t listen through a contraction because I couldn’t hold the Doppler and cope at the same time. Julie and Drew could do it but it was faster and easier for me to find her heart tones myself. We called D so she could listen over the phone. She told me everything was fine and I guess that was all I needed to hear because at 9:40 my water broke and I realized I had to just get through this birth. She was fine. My baby was fine. It was going to be wonderful.
My daughter had done an amazing job of taking pictures and being in the background. I was hardly aware she was there but so glad that she was. At one point she made herself a little nest in my closet where she retreated to when things became a little too overwhelming. Unfortunately, I decided I needed to be on hands and knees on the side of my bed so poor Aubrey ended up with a front row seat to the business end of what was happening. I think that might have scarred her for life lol.
After my water broke I remember thinking to myself that this was really and truly it. I needed to pull myself together. I needed to reserve all my energy. I needed… to get back in the tub! So I got back in the tub and I stayed there. My contractions were so hard. They hurt more than I had ever remembered them hurting. While all along I had been sounding out and talking… suddenly I was in a realm of pain I never knew existed outside of hell itself.
I just couldn’t talk. I couldn’t communicate. I felt like there was this tiny little thread inside of myself and if I opened my mouth that thread would unravel and I would be completely ripped apart. If I started to moan, or scream, or even opened my mouth… I would never stop screaming. I would die. It occurred to me that I was dying. Right there in my tub, surrounded by my family I was going to die. My mother had returned… how sad… she was going to watch her daughter die. And then I thought about how I was trying to raise Aubrey to see birth as beautiful and natural. And she would never think that because all she would remember was that her mother died in front of her.
Drew was putting cold rags on my neck and I remembered my friend Mandy saying how she had a rag on her face throughout labor. I covered up my face and thought..”ohhh….I have to tell Mandy she was right.” I thought about how much I loved Drew and how sad it was that I was dying and leaving them. I was being completely, utterly silent. Every contraction moved through my body and all I did was raise myself up in the tub a little bit because for some strange reason that I couldn’t comprehend … there was all this incredible pressure in my bottom. Why was there so much pressure? Wasn’t it enough that I was dying? Did it have to hurt so badly too? Would they even notice that I was dead? Or would they think I had fallen asleep? And WHY weren’t they helping me?? Can’t they SEE THAT I’M DYING?!?!
Drew was trying to write Aubrey a note… the scratching of the pencil on the paper was horrible. I opened my eyes and told her to go to my jewelry box and get his grandfather’s ring. I guessed that was what he wanted and I was right. He wanted to wear that when his baby was born. My mother was whispering something to Aubrey…. I told her she had to stop talking or leave. She apologized and I felt so bad for snapping at her. I felt bad that the last words I would say before I died were to tell her to be quiet.
I remember this feeling of total despair and sadness washing over me. Would they get the baby out after I was dead? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I didn’t want to die. It just hurt so much and it was so sad. I decided I needed a break. The contractions were just more than I could cope with. I’d been trying to reach inside and feel for her head but I felt nothing. She was still so high up. Maybe my cervix wasn’t healed enough. Maybe it was stuck and not going to dilate any more.
I had said almost nothing in over an hour. I was utterly still and silent and so to everyone else it looked as though maybe labor had hit a plateau and I was just resting. They had no idea that my contractions were non-stop and harder than they had ever been. For some reason my mom, Julie, and Aubrey left the bathroom for a minute. I was all alone with Drew and I looked at him and said “You have to save me. Please, please save me. I want to go to sleep. I want morphine and Dramamine and I want to sleep. Ask D if I can have some and go to sleep. Please.”
I was so calm. But then Drew got up to go ask and I was alone in the bathroom. Why was all alone? So I got mad and then suddenly that thread that I’d been clinging too just evaporated and this scream erupted out of me with some kind of primal fury. And my hands instinctively went to catch my baby’s head as she moved out of me and into the water. I had been trying to feel for her head. Just seconds prior I had been reaching inside desperately trying to find her head and nothing was there. I never had a pushing urge… I’ve never had the urge to push with any of my babies. But somehow my hands knew she was coming and caught her all on their own. And then I was flooded with relief and looked up… and I was STILL all alone! Where WERE they?!
My scream brought them all rushing back into the bathroom. But since I was in that cramped tub and leaning over it they couldn’t see. So they talked to each other: “I think I see some more blood. Can you see anything?” And then I said “Her head is in my hand!!” So Julie jumped in and crouched behind me and told me not to push. She unwrapped the cord from around Marble’s arm, off her chest, and off her neck two times… and then my baby slithered into the world and screamed her head off.
I had everything set up and ready. Aubrey’s only job was to make sure the blankets stayed warm and that the heating pad never shut off. So I was highly frustrated that as soon as the baby was born I wasn’t immediately handed her nice clean warm blankets. My mother brought in some sort of quilt and I remember thinking that I was surrounded by amateurs!! It really is all very funny but at the time I just wanted someone else to be in charge for a minute.
We finally got the baby wrapped how I wanted her wrapped. I walked Drew through cutting the cord, assessed my bleeding and decided I was fine. I coached Julie through delivering the placenta, told my mom to pat NOT wipe the blood and dosed myself with herbs. A little later I listened to my baby’s lungs and decided she had a slight rub that nursing would fix and that she was fine. I walked Drew through the newborn exam, and made sure my baby girl was perfect. She was. She is. I didn’t die.
I’m not sure I would want to have another unassisted birth. It was incredibly empowering. It has totally healed my shaken faith in my body. My friends and family were rock stars. Everybody did exactly what I wanted and what I asked. But part of me would like to just push the baby out and then not have to do anymore work. So I think next time I want a midwife who will just show up at the end. Or maybe next time we’ll just do it exactly the same way. But there WILL be a next time… because I am just too much of a rock star birthing goddess not to do this again. I make it look easy.
Tags: birth-stories-on-demand,birth-stories,free-birth,unassisted-birth,birth-stories-with-pictures,cancer,natural-birth,home-birth,water-birth,graphic-birth-pictures,miracle-birth-stories,positive-birth-stories
Reader Comments (6)
The story seems to show that the midwife, or lacktherof has no compassion or understanding and very little interest. The author of the statement above has listed their name as "midwife" and seems to have no compassion or understanding as well. Hmmm....
Birth is the greatest, most dramatic experience that one will ever have. I know for a fact that this story is 100% true simply because it is about a miracle baby and a miracle birth. Any of the details in this story that the midwife above thinks should be excluded would be wrongful to Marble Ann and her miracle birth story.
This post is 100% true and was one of the most empowering and difficult experiences of my life. The midwife that we started out with has a thriving practice and has helped many, many families in my community to have beautiful births. She should feel very proud of her success and I wish her no ill will whatsoever. She was not a good fit for us. We are very much in the minority as most people have no complaints about her. I have never, and would never try to ruin her reputation. I am simply sharing my birth story. I wish very much that our experience with her had been a good one. But it wasn't and sometimes that just happens. It doesn't mean either of is a bad person, it doesn't mean she was a bad midwife. It just means we were not a good fit for each other. I believe we will all have the births we are meant to have if we remain open to them. I learned so much from this experience and the difficult situation with the midwife is part of my story. And my story is wonderful. I wouldn't change a thing.
If indeed the "midwife" commenting above is the one who figured into the story leading up to Marble Ann's birth, then she should understand something: She has no voice in this story. She gave up the right to have a voice when she abandoned the family as her clients. And now she is apparently abandoning any pretense of professionalism. It makes me very curious.....if it is the same midwife, why is she clearly so obsessed with this family, this birth which she turned her back on? She has not had charges brought against her. Nor has she been identified by name in a public forum. The parents--the ones who do have a voice, and a right to tell Marble Ann's story--have been utterly decent and far more respectful than this "midwife's" treatment of them warrants. Why does she refuse to do the same thing, simply leave them alone and move on?
Every woman deserves the right to tell her birth story. Every detail is important. No one has a right to try to censor her experience.
Too bad you never mentioned who the midwife was, especially after the comment. She must not be a very busy midwife if she has time to harass people.
Jill: I'm sorry your birth story was marred by an antagonistic comment from a troll.
Anonymous midwife: This story isn't about you. It doesn't name you. This is Jill's story, and Marble's story. Piss off.
Lovely story. And unfreakingbelievable that somebody would set it upon themselves to tell you if it were true or not. To the anonymous "midwife" upthread? Get a hobby.