Relaxed, Natural, Birth Center Birth

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As printed in True North Parenting Magazine 10/2009

My alarm clock was glaring at me: 1:30 a.m. I had to pee. Again. I sighed as I rolled my very pregnant belly out of bed and began the fifteen-foot waddle to the bathroom.

My third trimester had not been very comfortable. I?d suffered a couple cases of severe hives that left me sleepless, blotchy, and generally not a very nice person to be around. My husband, a former United States Marine, began treating me like one would treat a roadside I.E.D in Iraq?ready to explode at any moment. But he would bring me flowers and tell our friends I was craving ice cream, although we both knew the ice cream he bought was for him. However, no matter how terrible I felt, I was deeply thankful to be pregnant. We had experienced a devastatingly painful late miscarriage a year and a half earlier, and we knew God had promised us this son. He was a gift and a blessing.

As I began my trek back to bed, I rubbed my belly, then stopped suddenly as I felt a gush of fluid. I held my breath, waiting in the dark. Had my water just broken? I was rather wary, having experienced a rather embarrassing false alarm only a few days prior.

I waited a few more minutes, but nothing happened, so I changed my clothes and crawled back into bed. As I arranged my vast collection of pillows, trying to take into consideration the six inches of mattress space I?d allotted my husband, I became aware of the need to use the restroom?immediately.

I tumbled back out of bed and waddled back to the bathroom. I was vaguely aware of McKibben mumbling something that sounded like, ?Are you okay?? But I couldn?t answer.

He went back to sleep, and I stayed in the bathroom?for two hours. I thought I was going to die. It was like I?d been in a third-world country and drunk the water and eaten raw meat.

I emerged from the bathroom at 3:30, convinced I was beginning labor. My body was following the same pattern it had when I?d miscarried. Due to the stomach cramps, I hadn?t been able to tell if I was having contractions. I lay on the couch hoping to get some rest before the action began.

I hadn?t been there long when an all-too-familiar feeling from my first trimester came over me. I was going to throw up. I faintly called out my husband?s name as I struggled off the couch. I dashed towards the bathroom, but didn?t quite make it. I projectile-vomited down the hallway, just in time for McKibben to come racing out the bedroom door and do a slip-n-slide. I was horrified, but my hero-hubby sucked it up and followed me into the bathroom and dutifully held back my hair as I finished throwing up.

After that involuntary cleansing was finished, McKibben helped me back into bed. I was now experiencing what I assumed were contractions. They were very low and seemed to be very close together. McKibben began timing them, and we looked up at each other with wide eyes. They were only two to three minutes apart.

It was now 4 a.m. My husband asked if he should phone our midwife, Janette. I shook my head no. I?d been awake only two and a half hours; I couldn?t be very far along, and it didn?t make sense to wake up Janette so early in labor. Besides, the contractions were so low that I didn?t think my whole uterus was contracting.

I settled into bed, and McKibben brought me a small snack and some red Gatorade, which I proceeded to throw up in a trash can next to the bed.

I spent the next hour and a half alternately reclining on pillows, then leaning forward to blow through contractions. At one point I tried to lie down; it was so painful I couldn?t even pull myself back up. So I stayed in a sitting position.

At 5:30, my contractions were from one to three minutes apart. They were still very low, but I felt it was time to call Janette.

During our first pregnancy, after our doctor told us the baby had died, we were told to go home and expect something similar to a very heavy period within a couple of weeks. No one prepared us for the two hours I spent on the toilet crying and yelling in pain as I brought forth our little one-inch child, nor the six blood clots the size of the palm of my hand. Our doctor told us the child would be so small we wouldn?t see it, but we did; we held the baby in the palm of our hands, named it Jordan, and buried it at a place where we both had many happy memories.

For this second pregnancy, we needed something different, something natural and personal. And God gave us Janette at the Bend Birth Center. Janette had the soothing personality I needed. She was compassionate and understanding when I refused the first chance to hear the heartbeat, for fear of it not being there. She especially won me over when she herself had to wipe away tears on the day we found our son?s heartbeat.

McKibben came back into the bedroom after calling Janette. She?d given us the option to come into the Birth Center, but I didn?t feel quite ready for that; I just wanted her to know we were in labor. But by 6:30, we were calling her again to say we were ready. We agreed to meet at the Bend Birth Center at 7:45. McKibben gathered our things as I dictated between contractions, which by now seemed to be on top of each other.

When we arrived at the Birth Center, it was quiet and peaceful. Janette had lit a few candles and had begun to run water into the Jacuzzi tub where I planned to give birth. I don?t remember her even saying anything; she just observed me as I sat on the bed breathing through each contraction. I felt so peaceful that it almost seemed as if I were in a trance.

Janette gently broke the silence by asking if I wanted to get in the tub. I shook my head. I didn?t want to move. But I realized that if I didn?t get in the tub now, I probably would never make it there, and I desperately wanted to feel the warm soothing water.

McKibben and Janette helped me prepare for and get into the tub. The beauty of the room and the warmth of the water made me feel as though I was laboring at a spa. For the next hour or so I stayed in my meditative state as I leaned onto all fours and blew through each contraction. Janette?s assistants, Merka and Aria, gently greeted me as they entered the room. McKibben stayed by my side, applying cool washcloths to my forehead, brushing my hair out of my face, offering me sips of water and Gatorade, and enduring my painful grip.

I began to feel my body change pace, and my focused breathing turned to grunts. I looked at Janette and asked what it was that my body was doing. When she said she thought my body was beginning to push, I asked her to check me. I wanted to know my progress for sure, as well as inform our families?who were excitedly chatting in the next room?so they could know how long to plan on camping out there.

?You?re complete,? Janette informed me.

I think this gave me even more confidence, and I bore down and quickly progressed from grunts to crying out and yelling. Vocalizing seemed to give me power behind each push, like a weight lifter in a gym.

I asked Janette if I could attempt to feel the baby?s head, and she encouraged me to do so. I?ll never forget touching my son?s head as he made his way down the birth canal! It was a very emotional moment. I motioned for McKibben to also touch his head, and I watched as his eyes lit up. For the first time he was touching his son, and he wasn?t even born yet!

After a while, Janette encouraged me to push between contractions. I followed her advice, and it seemed to work well?the next thing I remembered was calling out ?ring of fire!? Then Janette told me to go from the squatting position to leaning back against the side of the tub so they could have access to the baby as he came out. Janette gave McKibben instructions on what to do so he could bring the baby up and out of the water and onto my chest, after she checked to make sure the cord wasn?t around the neck.

I felt my son?s head emerge, and Janette checked for a cord. As she did, the baby?s body slipped out, so she and McKibben together brought the baby up to me.

Broderick Ryan offered up a few small squeaks as he nestled against my chest, and within minutes he had latched on and tried to nurse.

I couldn?t believe he was here! I just kept looking at him, touching him, trying to convince myself it was for real. I cuddled him as we waited for the cord to stop pulsing, while Broderick received all the goodness he could through it. Then McKibben cut the cord.

We marveled at the goodness of God?s creation before us?Broderick, our own little miracle!

Broderick Ryan Womack was born at 10:25 a.m., on November 13, 2008, weighing in at 9.03 pounds, and measuring 20.5 inches long.