We have a secret in our culture...
and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong. - Laura Stavoe Harm
When you have come to the edge
of all the light you know
And are about to step off
Into the darkness of the unknown,
Faith is knowing that
One of two things will happen:
There will be something solid to stand on
Or you will be taught how to fly.
Patrick Overter
Wonderful and you are the best. I will never forget what you did for us during Angie's birth. Thank you.
~Kathy Jo Peterson
Sam Sam’s Birth Story
At about
Franklin Moses' birth...
Our labor started out fairly normal, it was our first pregnancy, we were 37 1/2 weeks along, and ready any time Baby was. It was Sunday night just before 10:00. My contractions were steady, about 5 minutes apart, and not terribly painful. Shortly after midnight, my husband Jeff and I decided we would try to get some sleep. Jeff fell asleep almost instantly; I however, with an eye on the clock--timing, and an ear on the storm--listening, was wide-awake.
By 3AM our contractions were down to 3-4 minutes apart, and becoming progressively more painful. I crawled out of bed and went to pack my suitcase. We headed for Woodwinds Health Campus. Upon arrival, my contractions started to spread out to 5-6 minutes but were still coming regularly. We were checked by the on call midwife who advised us that I was about 2 centimeters dilated, almost fully effaced, and Baby's head was "really, really low". We couldn't believe this was really it! We put in a call to our doula Sarah, who we had seen nearly weekly throughout our entire pregnancy, we told her we would call her when we were ready for her to join us at the hospital. After spending the next 2 hours wandering the halls of labor and delivery, we were rechecked, only to find out that we hadn't progressed at all. We were sent home disappointed, with 2 Visteril, to try and get some sleep.
I spent the entire day Monday snoring in between contractions, which were 4-6 minutes apart. Our doula Sarah showed up at our home at about 6:00pm with a lasagna and a promise that our baby would eventually be born. After dinner we were given a refresher course in breathing and relaxation technique, and some much needed encouragement.
By 2:30 Tuesday morning, with our contractions still about 5 minutes apart and me more tired than I could have ever imagined, something seemed to change. My contractions started coming every 2-3 minutes and were shockingly much more painful. We got out of bed and called Sarah, she was at our house almost immediately. Between contractions we discussed heading for Woodwinds, we had originally planned on laboring at home for as long as possible, but at the same time didn't want to be in the car on our way to the hospital while in transition. We decided to stick it out for little while longer. Sarah called our photographer Angela to come over. About 45 minutes after she arrived we all gathered our gear and headed out the door.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital my contractions once again started to weaken. I was becoming convinced Baby wanted to be born at home, NOT at the hospital. We were checked by a different midwife and told we were only about 3 centimeters, 99% effaced and "really, really, REALLY low". By Sarah's recommendation I spent some time in the shower on the birthing ball. Things really seemed to be slowing down, so we sent our photographer home to get some rest and Sarah dragged us out of our room to walk the familiar halls. After about 2 hours of walking we headed back to our room to be rechecked. Once again we were told there had not been sufficient progression. We were given the option to walk more or go home with more Visteril. Given I hadn't really slept for over 48 hours and still had to deliver a baby at some point, we were encouraged to take the Visteril to get some rest during what I was shocked to hear the midwife call "the EARLY stages of labor". I left the hospital heartbroken, and certain that I would be in labor with my first child until what would have been his 18th birthday.
Once we got home and settled in, my contractions started to pick up again. Sarah mentioned that she had a hunch that Baby may be posterior, and if his head was slightly tilted to one side or another, might be caught up on my pelvic bone, which would explain lengthy labor, the immense amount of pressure, and back labor we were experiencing. She vowed to find a solution that didn't include a scalpel, and was off on the hunt.
Sarah arrived back at our home at about 6:00pm with more ideas than I seemed to have energy for. We worked for a number of hours to running through different exercises to reposition Baby. We started with a sheet under my back while I lay on the floor, and Sarah rolled me from side to side, which wasn't half bad, but then came the dreaded lunges. By about 9:30, I was so exhausted Sarah and Jeff gave me a break to try and get some rest.
We trudged through yet another restless night. By about 3:00 in the morning on Wednesday, I could no longer tolerate lying down during or even in between contractions, which were still running between 2-4 minutes apart. By 3:30am we were headed back to Woodwinds.
We were checked by yet another midwife named Julie Ann. We were just over 6 centimeters, and for the first time offered an amniotomy. We gratefully took her up on her offer and called Sarah and Angela to join us at the hospital.
We had originally planned a water birth, but were told that it would take so long to set up the tub, we probably wouldn't have time. Instead I climbed into the massive tub in the bathroom of our room. I was ready to start pushing almost immediately. I pushed and pushed and pushed, so exhausted I was actually dozing off between contractions. Getting through each one on Jeff's support, with encouragement and direction from Sarah and Julie Ann . After about an hour, I began refusing the sips of water I was being offered every couple of minutes by Jeff and Sarah, although I knew the consequences of becoming dehydrated during labor, my irrational fear of vomiting was overtaking me. Like most pregnant women, I had paid my dues in morning sickness and was not willing to start throwing up again. My contractions were becoming shorter and more spread out. I was eventually given IV fluids, Pitocin, and a renewed energy to push. Because I couldn't have the Pitocin in the tub, we moved back to the bed, and shortly there after a baby was born. By combining Sarah and JulieAnn's expertise in keeping me calm, and encouraging me to remain in control of my pushing, we were able to avoid any tears. I take full credit myself for the restraint I used to avoid strangling the nurse who commended me for an "8 hour labor".
Franklin Moses Pfoser, 7.5 pounds, 19 inches long, was born at 10:58am Wednesday June 5th, 2002.
Although I had a wonderful support team, who I feel as though I couldn't have done it without, during the birth of my son I swore I would never do it again. I've been told many times that nature has a way of making you forget the pain of labor, therefore no matter how painful, women will put themselves through it over and over again. It’s a pain that I will never forget for as long as I live, but it is a pain that I will again endure because of it's reward.
Cecelia Louise...
“A baby has already passed through there once,
it has to be faster and easier this time!”
-Sarah Beirmeier (my doula)
She was right, after a four day labor, including 4 hours of pushing time, and a does of pitocin with my firstborn, the second time around was a lot easier! Don’t get me wrong, the words “easy” and “labor” clash like the words “toddler” and “manners”. But, needless to say, comparatively, Celia’s labor was a lot easier!!!
It started at about midnight, April 19th; I had gone to bed about an hour earlier. Celia wasn’t due to show her face for another two weeks. I went to bed wondering how I could possibly survive another 14 days or more, of getting up every half hour to use the bathroom, while working 40 hours a week, and chasing a toddler in my free time. I awoke feeling nauseous, suddenly so sick I could barely walk. I made my way to the bathroom, where I would spend the majority of my labor.
After spending a miserable hour vomiting into the toilet, I thought it was finally over, now I could get some sleep, after all, Frankie would be waking up in a few hours, I would get him out the door to preschool, drop my husband off at work, and get to the office by nine. Boy, was I ever mistaken! I brushed my teeth, refilled my water glass, and climbed back into bed. But my “gas pains” and “indigestion” were getting progressively more painful and frequent. I finally gave into the idea that there would be no sleep for me tonight; I might even have to call in sick to work tomorrow!
I got out of bed, lit a candle in the bathroom, started running a bath, and popped a couple of eggos in the toaster. As I sat on the couch eating my eggos, I started to become suspicious; maybe it wasn’t just that I was sick; I might actually be in labor. For some reason I just wasn’t quite ready to admit it to myself, After, I finished eating I went back and crawled into the tub, as my “gas pains” came and went, I couldn’t help but counting the seconds, and minutes as they ticked by. It sounds so perfect… A woman, in all her glory, laboring at home in her own bath tub by candlelight, while her loving husband and dear son sleep peacefully in the next room.
And it was perfect, for a while….
That is until the eggos decided to resurface.
Then it becomes a 38-week pregnant woman, sitting naked in a rapidly cooling tub, throwing up into a mop bucket. Not a pretty sight. I spent the next few hours in the tub, with my glass of cold water, watch, pencil, paper, and of course trusty mop bucket by my side. Timing my contractions was tricky to say the least, they were coming regularly, about every 4 minutes, but every time I would vomit, they would get a lot closer together. I still wasn’t completely convinced I was in labor. I kept telling myself that I was only contracting due to the vomiting. Every time I would throw up, they would drop down to about 1 minute (or less) apart, then slowly spread back out to 3-4. Having been turned away at the hospital 2 times while laboring with my first child, I was leery to call my midwife, and go in. Although the intensity of my contractions were becoming progressively more painful and I had been told at my last appointment (a few days earlier) that I was about 3 centimeters dilated, the idea of leaving the warm comfy den that I had made for myself in my bathroom just didn’t do it for me. At about 5:30, I finally got up the courage to call my midwife. I left a message with her answering service and was told the on-call midwife would contact me shortly.
“NO!” was all I could think. I want Julianne, She had delivered Frankie, and I had seen her faithfully throughout my pregnancy never even a couple minutes late for my appointment. And now in the heat of labor, I would have to deal with a stranger. It may have been that I was so tired, and weak, and sick, or just the hormones, but I was absolutely devastated. I started sobbing and wondering how on earth I was going to get in touch with Julianne in the middle of the night and somehow convince her to come to my home and deliver my baby.
Pausing every two minutes for my contractions, I scrambled through the white pages searching for Julianne’s listing, while concocting a plan for what I would have to say if, for some reason, I couldn’t find her home number and would be forced to call the answering service back to get her it out of them… bomb threat? No. Family emergency? No. I was snapped back from my moment of complete madness by the phone ringing.
“This is Phyllis, the on-call midwife, how are you doing Julie?”
“Great!” came my response running on autopilot. “That was stupid,” I thought.
After running through the details with her, she asked how far from the hospital I was, and suggested I get there quickly. Still worried that I might be turned away, I dreaded calling my doula to get her out of bed, and my mother to come and pick up my son. What if this wasn’t the real thing? I decided we would go it alone. We wouldn’t wake Sarah or my mother up, we would just bring Frankie with us to the hospital, get checked and be sent home with some Vistaril so that I could get some sleep over the next few days, you know, before the baby was born. Right?
Not quite. I woke up my husband and told him what the plan was. He quickly packed our things, pausing only to slow dance with me every two minutes. We arrived at the hospital around 6:30. Still sick to my stomach, and laboring hard, I was certain that I would never survive. Feeling so sick, and tired, and laboring so hard I briefly considered an epidural, anything-- even a bullet to the head, anything to just give me a break. But, I was told by the nurse, that the midwife, Melanie, who was on her way had said, “No, if she really needs something, give her a little Nubian instead.” At the time I was furious, but of course, I would be thankful later.
I was checked by the nurse and told I was 9 centimeters. “Get the fuck out!” was what I thought, but “Oh really, Gosh, I’m surprised!” was what I said. Sarah appeared out of nowhere, and my mother was suddenly whisking Frankie away.
The children’s show “Arthur” was no longer blaring from the television, and all seemed eerily calm in the hospital room. I had thought when the Nubain was injected I would be so ashamed to tell my doula, Sarah, I had taken it. But I wasn’t. At all.
I quickly realized that it was just the break I needed. It by no means relieved any of the pain, but it took the edge off, just as the nurse said it would. Everything was moving so fast; it helped calm me. I know I would have made it through without it; I had survived without any pain relief with my first. But the small does given, got me through. I started feeling the urge to push around 8:00. The Nubian had obviously worn off by then. The crisp reality of it all had returned to the pain and my brain. I pushed little by little. Took my time, I kept telling myself to let my body do the work.
I guess I was in the “the zone”
You hear about it.
But I don’t remember it from Frankie’s birth.
Maybe I was too tired, maybe I just never got there, and maybe I’m just starting to get the hang of this birthing business. But I got there with Celia. It’s a place no man will ever experience, a place where nothing else matters, a place, where you let go of everything, EVERYTHING, everything you have ever thought or felt, seen or heard, everything. There is no one else in the world but you and your unborn child. A child you know is struggling as hard as you are. To show her the world she will be a part of, to learn in, to live in, to eventually birth her own children into.
It’s primal; it’s an amazing place.
I pushed slowly, allowing myself as much time as I needed. Throughout my pregnancy my biggest fears of labor were first that it would again last for days and days, second, but equally as scary that I would tear. The first was now out the window; I knew my dear daughter would be in my arms shortly, the second however was a different story. Not having torn with my first, I had credited the great accomplishment to having labored and pushed for so long in the tub. But this time I had only spent a few hours laboring in the bath and had been out of it for a couple of hours already.
I struggled with the urge to just bear down and get her out, and with my fear for the godforsaken tear. But it didn’t take me long to realize that this one last fear was the only thing standing between my first daughter and me. Not only that but, the realization that it was a fairly minor obstacle. Any mother, especially one experiencing the unbelievable miracle of childbirth, will do what needs to be done, if that means moving heaven and earth to hold her dear babe than so be it.
I guess that has kind of become my mantra since my first child was born…
“I will do what needs to be done”
I will make it work. God help me…I don’t know how, but I just have to let it happen. It will all work out.
And it did.
(Cecelia Louise Pfoser was born happy and healthy at 8:45am, April 19th, 2004. 6lbs 1oz, 19in long)
Avery's Birth
I was 37 ½ weeks pregnant. The day before I went into labor, I had a pregnancy massage. The salon had a pregnancy pillow which allowed you to lay face down, and that's how I started. But after a few minutes, I started to feel pressure building in my abdomen, after a few more minutes it was so painful I couldn’t ignore it and I told the masseuse I had to flip over. After about 10 minutes the pressure had fully subsided. I think that the massage triggered the labor process, but she must have been ready…
Later that night after my manicure & pedicure (yes I scheduled a day of beauty) I was sitting on the birth ball pelvic rocking, and I started to feel sore for a couple of minutes…then I noticed it went away. I thought nothing of it except that about 5 minutes later it came back, and then it happened two more times. I mentioned it to Dave and decided to go take a bath. Dave and I were having a really nice night together, relaxing and snuggling reading books on the couch. I was reading about swaddling in “The Happiest Baby on the Block,” and after I got out of the tub I felt like practicing so I practiced on a doll. The tub made the soreness go away, and I went to sleep unconcerned.
I got up to pee at 1:45 and although I usually felt a tightening afterwards, this was more intense. I went back to bed, only to open my eyes and hear/feel a loud “pop” and then a gush of water came out. I said, “Oh my God, my water broke…my dad was right!” ( he predicted I would go before the end of the year, it was December 31st!) I woke Dave up and he changed the sheets so we could attempt to go back to sleep. But soon after we laid back down, I felt the same soreness I felt earlier that night. 5 minutes before the next, 4 minutes, 3 minutes…
We called Rebecca and I talked to her briefly, then we decided to call her back in about 20 minutes after we got a feel for what was happening. We got out of bed and I started worrying that nothing was ready for the hospital, so Dave and I started getting things together from my list. I started getting frustrated when he had to ask me where things were! My contractions were still pretty mild but they were 3 minutes or so apart, which I felt was pretty fast and it worried me. I had Dave start the tub and after we got the hospital stuff together we moved to the bathroom.
I pooped like 3 or 4 times, and I felt a little nauseous after that but didn’t vomit. We had attended Bradley classes, and so Dave was rubbing my back and trying other pain relief techniques but it wasn’t really helping. I wasn’t relaxing very well during the contractions, and I was getting frustrated. I told Dave to call Sarah and Rebecca and have them come now. Contractions were about 2 minutes apart and each one was a little more intense.
Dave had put on some music, my favorite Bach violin concerto, but it was annoying to me. When Sarah and Rebecca arrived, they started helping to relax me with cool compresses and massage. However, each contraction was more intense and the pace was going very fast, not allowing me to adjust…I was getting more frustrated that relaxation efforts were not working. I kept thinking about the 4-1-1- rule and how we were WAY past that, and I remember saying “we need to go NOW.”
So we got out of the tub, dried off and dressed—taking a while because we had to stop for contractions. We went downstairs to wait for Dave to bring the car around and pack everything in. I was mad that he was taking a long time (my contractions were very intense, I was in transition at this point). I draped myself over the loveseat and thrashed my legs.
During the car ride I was again annoyed because it was so bumpy. At the end of a contraction I felt my body push a little. I wasn’t expecting this new feeling, and it felt good. Sarah heard me and asked, “was that a push?” She told me to try and wait because we were almost to the hospital, but it was impossible to resist the urge.
I remember being snappy and crabby with the hospital staff when we got there, especially the triage nurse who said, “This is your first baby? Oh, we have PLENTY of time.” I was like, “No we don’t!!!” I had a contraction while waiting for them and was pushing again. Finally they checked me and said I was 9 cm dilated. I just kept thinking, say what you want, but I’m pushing this baby out like NOW!
When we got to the delivery room they said something about monitoring and I remember snapping “No! I’m pushing!” (it was pretty easy to stick to our birth plan and refuse interventions at this point in the game.) I got on the bed, they set up the squat bar, and I pushed using that. Dave had left to find our birth plan (we left it in the car) and I was NOT happy he had left. Finally he came back. Rebecca got a birth ball for me to rest on between pushes, and it just worked better than the squat bar, so that’s where I stayed (kneeling on the bed with my arms on the ball). The nurse said the doctor preferred his patients to be lying down or on their side to give birth, to which I replied, “No, I’m not moving!” She said, “OK, I’ll check with him.” Anyways, he came in about 5 minutes later, and I wasn’t moved. It was about 3 pushes later that I really felt her head come down and almost out…I looked at Dave and asked him what was happening, and he told me that he did see her head. Then with the next push I felt her hear being born, and I felt it finally come out, but still felt her body, so I gave a little extra push (or maybe she did!) and she came out at 6:10 AM.
I heard her crying and I was still on my hands and knees…so my first meeting came as I looked down and they placed her under my legs. I stared at her in shock as they helped me sit down and then placed her on my chest. I couldn’t believe it was over so quickly. I was so happy I did it and was so proud of my new healthy, happy baby girl.
F I O N A ' S * B I R T H * S T O R Y (oct 2nd, 2003)
Our home seems very full all of a sudden. A few feet away, our nearly two day old daughter, Fiona Eileen, slumbers next to her father (a tummy full of mama milk). Downstairs, our nearly two and a half year old daughter, Ella Kathleen, slumbers next to her grandmother. And here I am, now the mother of two red headed daughters, awake with new mother adrenaline. I will type this story as quickly as I can and then return to bed in this very full home.
From the beginning of this pregnancy, we have been preparing for this birth. Our doula commented last night that the same day I told her of our new pregnancy, I also started listing the tea blends I was drinking, the organic foods I would be eating, the ways in which I was trying to be the healthiest mama possible. Bill and I also started to prepare Ella for her new role in the family - as she would call herself, she was soon to be the big sister butterfly.
The first signs of labor came last weekend on my 31st birthday. We went for a day hike at Frontenac State Park, and before we left I went to the bathroom and saw that I had lost some of my mucus plug. The following Monday, we had a prenatal. I was already 1+ cm dilated and 50-60% effaced. This was music to our ears since my body had never had the chance to progress like this naturally with Ella's birth.
Thursday we had another prenatal. In just a few days, I had dilated to 2+ cm and 75-80% effaced. When on the monitor, we saw that I was having strong contractions about 6 minutes apart. I couldn't feel them - just a flushed sort of feeling before each one appeared on the monitor - but they were happening. We knew labor would be soon. Since soon could mean a few hours to a few more days, I set my mind ahead a week so that I wouldn't be too impatient for labor to start.
On Saturday, we took another hike - this time around Pike Island at Fort Snelling State Park. That night I had new contractions - these hurt and were a few minutes apart. I got into the tub and tried to relax. Soon, the contractions slowed and I was able to get back to sleep. I was secretly hoping the baby would be born on Saturday, my Grandmother Davis' birthday, but the sun rose the next day and still no baby. So, Sunday morning we went out to breakfast, ran a couple errands, then spent the rest of the day trying to relax.
Sunday night I woke with stronger contractions. At 11pm, I could no longer stand being in bed. I needed to get up, so I got on the birth ball while Bill timed the contractions and pressed herbal heat packs against my back. By 2am, the contractions were stronger and closer together - about 4-6 minutes apart. We called our doula, Sarah, who advised getting in the tub. If it was the real thing, they would get stronger and closer together; if it was early labor, they would calm down and we could get some much needed rest. Almost as soon as I got in the water, the contractions intensified and clustered closer together. We called Sarah back and she was on her way. We also alerted Uncle Mike and Grandma Kathy too so that someone would be with Ella when we needed to leave for the hospital.
By the time Sarah arrived, I wanted to go. She advised relaxing as much as we could at home, working through the contractions in our own space, and heading to the hospital later. I rested as much as I could, with Bill and Sarah close by. At about 4:30am, Ella woke up and came into our room. I sat on the birth ball, resting against the bed with a pile of pillows. Ella curled up on the bed with her head next to mine. Ella touched my hair and gave me hugs and kisses during contractions. No anesthesia could be more effective than the loving touch of a child.
A little before 5am, I needed to go to the bathroom. Emptying my bladder made new space for the baby to descend. My "want" to go to the hospital quickly changed to a NEED to go. Uncle Mike, who had been resting downstairs, stayed with Ella as we headed off to Fairview Riverside. The ride in the car was no fun at all, but soon we were there and settled into our birthing room. The nurse checked my cervix and I was already at 6 cm.
We were happy to learn that the midwife on call was one of our favorites - John (the one male midwife in the practice). He was happy to see us, since he knew how badly we had wanted a completely natural labor and to avoid interventions this time around. Here we were in labor and progressing well. They did a non-stress test to see how the baby was doing. Everything looked great, so the nurses and John gave us some privacy in which to labor for a while. We set up the bedroom lamp from home, turned off all the other lights, and put on some relaxing native flute music. I got in the shower on the birth ball, a stream of water running over my belly, warm blankets over my shoulders. Bill sat with me, rubbing my back and shoulders. Sarah brought us some clary sage essential oil (which smells wonderful, and also helps stimulate contractions).
The contractions intensified. I tried to accept each contraction as a gift and rejoiced as each one ended...knowing it was one less I would have to experience. As I would inhale, I imagined that I was pulling the pain out of my body with each breath, wrapping it up in white tissue paper, and then blowing it away with each exhalation.
When I got out of the shower, the bed was raised so that I could lean against it during the contractions. I did this for a few minutes, and before I knew it, I had an uncontrollable urge to PUSH. We lowered the bed so I could lay down. I wanted to push, but I also wanted a nap! I kept thinking "I'm only at 6cm" but it had been over an hour already and when John came into check on us, I was past 9cm. I could push when I felt ready. It was just a few minutes before 7am. I had somehow skipped over *transition*, the most painful part of labor. I was very ready to push!
I tried on my side for a while, but felt I needed to move. The head of the bed was raised as far up as it could go so that I could kneel on the bed, resting my head against some pillows. Bill and Sarah sat on each side of the bed, holding my hands and caressing my hair. Sarah gave me some amazing advice - wait through the first part of the push, breathe, then give in and push as long and as hard as possible through the rest of the contraction. I growled through the pushes, making noises I didn't know I could make. With each push I would squat back and could feel the baby move lower. I changed positions again to semi-seated squat. After a few pushes, the bag of waters broke (a baby born with the waters is supposed to have good luck throughout life).
How could it be going so fast? I had pushed for nearly 4 hours with Ella...but this time, in just a few pushes, I could already feel the stinging heat of the baby's head crowning. We had brought a ginger compress to use on my perineum to avoid tearing, but there was no time. Luckily, my contractions were such that the baby crowned for a good minute or two, stretching everything out. When the next urge to push came, the head came through. The rest of the waters gushed out, the baby did a little twist, and then...
At 7:19am, Monday, September 29th, Fiona Eileen was born. Our daughter remained nameless for her first day in arms, just like as her sister did. As with Ella, in my heart this new little person was beyond having an earthly name. Finally though, we decided on Fiona which is Gaelic for fair, and Eileen (after my aunt), which is Gaelic for sunlight. We welcome our little ray of fair sunlight - Fiona Eileen.
(She was 8 lbs, 14.5 oz; 20 1/4 inches - just an ounce lighter and 3/4 inch shorter than her older sister. She has lots of strawberry blonde hair...and might have brown eyes. They are still newborn blue, but very dark with what looks like flecks of brown).
