Wren’s Birth Story
It’s been four and a half years since the birth of my fourth baby. For the good part of those four years, I’ve spent my time as a Birth Doula. I’ve educated, I’ve witnessed, I’ve held hands and whispered words of encouragement. I’ve taught ways to help prepare for birth, yet reminded women that even with the best preparations, birth can be unpredictable. Much like motherhood, it breaks us and wears us down, just to teach us the lessons we maybe weren’t ready to learn. I’ve come to learn that even the most beautiful births are the ones that have brought even the strongest mamas to their knees.
This story of Wren’s birth is definitely one of brokenness and beauty, of preparation and patience, and of intuition and support. Our birth story is also a testament to what wise, trusting and supportive midwifery care should look like.
For most of my pregnancy with Wren, I was determined to do the work. To prepare my mind, body and soul for the marathon that would be my birth. My last birth(fourth baby and first homebirth) I describe much of an undoing. An unraveling of all I had known and experienced about birth previously. A coming-into myself, testing the waters. I gained more depth, trust and knowledge in the power of well-supported, physiological birth. I got back my autonomy and felt a reclaiming of my power as a mom and in birth. It was such a pivotal point in my journey.
This time I knew what and how I wanted to prepare. I supported my body by seeing a pelvic floor therapist, a chiropractor, even getting some cranioscaral and body work. For many months of my pregnancy I worked on specific stretches and movements to prepare my body. I practiced new regimens of meditation, breathing and prayer to help ground and connect myself to my body, my baby, as well as feeling connected to God.
I created a space in which I could feel myself birthing in. Twinkle lights and candles have warmed my room. Affirmations and art have adorned the shelves and walls. And for many weeks leading up to birth (I say many because I really sort of thought she might come early) I spent evenings cultivating an atmosphere of serenity as I practiced my breath and movements and worked through potential emotional blocks I may have for birth.
I did the work. Because when you put in the work, you’re hoping to secure a more desirable outcome…right? Through all the practice of savoring and surrendering, it’s easy to hope all your practice will make it easier. But birth teaches us so much more than we can ever expect…
On the morning of Thursday November 2nd ( at 41 weeks and 6 days) I was awoken in the early hours with some contractions. A mild intensity but enough to wake an excited mother out of bed when they showed no signs of diminishing. From 4-6am I alternated trying to rest in bed with some gentle movements and breath around my bed. My contractions would get as close as 5 minutes apart and one minute long and continued for a few hours. Of course I had hoped this meant the start of early labor but also felt skeptical as a part of me had begun to feel like I would be pregnant forever. After 6:30 am I thought “maybe today is the day!” I decided to get up and nourish myself with some food. Around that time I woke my husband up and asked if he wanted breakfast not alluding yet to having contractions. After 8 am I had texted my Midwife and Doula to let them know we might actually have some progress happening. I also decided to incorporate some homeopathics my midwife and I had discussed the day before. I told her my intent was not to push my body into something it wasn’t ready for but to perhaps just give some additional support.
After 10am the contractions seem to have lost any speed or consistency. So I encouraged my family to go on a walk with me. We took a long walk on our dirt road as a whole family. Although the contractions had become completely sporadic by then I was really grateful to be out enjoying the sunshine and the time with my husband and kids. I remember watching my husband and kids try and make snowballs from the last remaining bit of snow and just feeling so immensely grateful that this was how I was spending my time. Even if today wasn’t the day, that we were so ready to welcome this babe onto this mix of chaos and love.
After a lot of fresh air and walking and being up since 4 am, I was feeling pretty wiped out. I had my husband assist me with some more inversions and rebozo shifting. Then I went and cozied up in my bedroom with the lights off, lit some Palo Santo and did some hip opening movements and more focused breathing, then laid down for a nap.
I was actually able to fall asleep which felt amazing. But upon waking I still felt a little discouraged that so much of the day had passed and still, there was no more progress or signs up labor. I texted my midwife my update, and she of course sent me just the right sentiments of encouragement. I remember saying how grateful I was for the support of her and my Doula. Both sharing wisdom, assurance and laughter when needed.
I knew I couldn’t spend my time waiting and being still so I decided to get up and do some baking. Something I love and that would pass the time. My kids gathered in the kitchen as we baked cookies together and played cards. It really was a great day of intentional family time.
As the evening approached I still felt some sporadic contractions and at times they increased in intensity. I could tell they were becoming stronger again because as I worked to move and breath through them, the ruckus of my two youngest boys was becoming a bit frustrating. Our plan was always to have my two youngest boys head to grandma’s while my older son and daughter would stay for the birth. We decided on this because honestly, my two younger boys are just too rowdy and I needed peace and to be able to turn inward and not have to mother or referee them.
After my little boys left, and I tucked my older two kids into bed, I retreated to my bedroom to continue to work through my moderate contractions. I laid down and tried to sleep but found the sensations becoming more prominent. I alternated rest with gentle breathing and movement throughout the late evening. It was only after 10pm, that lying down now felt impossible. I sat on the birthing ball with pillows on my bed trying to provide comfort for my body but allow rest between the contractions because I knew how important rest and melatonin was on this journey that seemed to finally be progressing.
It was this time in the evening I truly felt in my heart that this was the real deal, I was in early labor. My mind was finally trusting the signs my body was giving me and I was leaning into it. Working through motions, breathing deeply and intentionally and allowing myself to retreat deeply into the sacred labyrinth that was birth.
I labored on the ball and alternating moving around my room for about two hours, until after midnight, when I decided to wake my husband. He is such an incredible support but I knew he needed those two hours to sleep, even if I couldn’t. He had taken care of our four kids all day and I knew he would be meeting all my needs the moment he woke up. I also really enjoyed those two hours of quiet prayer alone and connecting with my body and my baby.
After midnight I felt a shift in intensity of the contractions and noticed my breathing become more instinctual and I began vocalizing a lot more. I remember asking Toffer, my husband, if I should call our Doula, Amanda, but feeling like I didn’t want to bother her if it was still going to be a while. (Now I know how my clients feel still, even I wasn’t sure when to call the Doula!) However, given that at some of my appointments, our sweet baby had felt very low and I had been doing so much preparation, there was some thought she could possibly come swiftly…ahh how we think we can predict birth. But after some deliberation, I knew Amanda’s presence and touch would be helpful and welcoming. We called her at 1am and she assured me, even if it was a while, she had no problem resting on a couch or in our spare room. We also agreed it was a good time to just inform my midwife, Alisha, that things were progressing and Amanda was on her way.
At this point I was getting contractions 2-3 minutes apart, gripping onto the corner of the wall in my room or my bathroom counter as I continually reminded myself to “breathe down into my baby” and “remember to stay loose.” With Grey’s birth I distinctly remember myself tightening amidst contractions and feeling like I was tensing rather then opening and releasing and I really wanted to avoid that this time.
No more than 20 minutes after reaching out to Amanda, our Doula, I really felt a shift in pressure and remember asking my husband to make sure Alisha was on her way with her team. I didn’t think our baby was coming just yet, but my body and mind felt a shift in the laboring process and the intensity and pressure building. Shortly after 2am our birth team consisting of our midwife, Alisha, her two amazing apprentices, Rosalyn and Kiana, and our Doula Amanda arrived together. I was still camped out in my room despite the lovely ambiance my husband had created around the house. They all quietly and peacefully made their presence known and Rosalyn and Alisha asked to listen to baby.
The next few hours that passed were that time in labor where things seem to blur together. The movements and moments collide and spread apart…the moments where the intensity builds and you can catch your breath and you think you are starting to break, but you get a pause and find a moment for conversation and laughter. A few moments stick out in my mind, one of which I was laboring in my bedroom, finding places to pause and lean into when the waves and sensations seem to come crashing at me. There was a contraction that came with great intensity but full awareness of the space and sounds around me, and I noticed one of the songs playing on my birth playlist; Rescue, by Lauren Daigle. I tuned out the world and the people and just let the song roll off me, singing quietly like a silent prayer….
“I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear you SOS
I will send out an army to find you in the middle of the darkest night,
It's true, I will rescue you..
..I will never stop marching to reach you
In the middle of the hardest fight it’s true,
I will rescue you
I hear the whisper underneath your breath.
I hear you whisper, you have nothing left…”
It was in that moment I felt covered. I felt vulnerable but seen and held, I felt like all the moments of preparation and prayer, of breathing and bending had brought me to this place. The place where you hope not to break but where the brokenness lets in the light. And I quietly sang those words as I gripped my walls and remembered I had more left.
After a few hours of active labor the pain in my lower abdomen/pubic area felt so sharp and intense. It wasn’t like the surge of a contraction, the rise and fall I had experienced and prepared for. The moments I had practiced and prepared to tell myself, “I can do anything for only a minute”. But it wasn’t just a minute, the contraction would come and go and I would long for a breath of reprieve. A moment of looseness in my body. But the pain still lingered, edging me to the verge of exhaustion and weakness.
There was no position I could get in, that wasn’t completely upright that would allow my body and lower abdomen reprieve. So many times I ran through the possible motions in my head, wondering what I should try next. Or my sweet Doula would gently ask if I would consider the toilet, the floor, a firmer mattress to rest on. I would push myself along, but knowing in my head they weren’t going to provide relief.
I took a bath twice, because even in the rest of the intense contractions I could still feel the ache in my lower abdomen that I needed relief from. The first bath brought warm relaxing relief and I remember trying to rest and then telling Amanda, “I don’t think it’s time to push but bearing down WITH these contractions feel good right now, rather then just moving through them.” That was about 4 am. After I got out I remember the searing sensation in my lower abdomen and pubic area returning. I felt like I had the strength to work through my contractions, but as the sensations of those would subside and I would be hopeful for a breath of rest and relief, that pinching, nagging pain, still persisted.
At this point I was feeling exhausted because I had been up from the morning before and just needed a bit of rest. But despite our creative efforts for positioning, nothing allowed me to get into a restful position to catch a nap. The bed, the ball, the toilet, anything where my body was remotely bent, felt incredibly more painful with each contraction.
The second attempt at a bath was miserable and brought no relief. Alisha and Rosalyn and checked in on baby and I when needed but at this point I reached out to ask for some wisdom and suggestions on if I could take any homeopathics that would be helpful. I thought I had progressed so far, but the pain in my lower abdomen made me wonder if my contractions were only lower and not properly causing change.
After some thoughtful deliberation with Alisha, I actually asked if she would check me, not to see if I had progressed, because we agreed there were many other indications I in fact HAD made progress…but to see if she could get a better indication of babies positioning. Upon checking she was able to indicate to me that our baby girl seemed to be hung up on my pubic bone and would require some creative movement to get her down. Time for some lift and tucks. The same movements I had to do to help ease my fourth baby, out of a slightly stuck position. I knew this move. I knew it had worked to bring Grey down into the right space. But I also remember the intensity and vigor it required to do those movements.
My mind flashed to some of the birth photos I had before Grey was born. The look of seriousness and angst on my face as I worked to fight the discomfort and bring him down. I remember thinking this birth would be different, how much I wanted to curate this birth to feel more peaceful. I am so fortunate to have birth those photos from my homebirth with Grey, but I often look through them and think of how intense they look. Nearing the end, when I had to lift and tuck my pelvis to help get him out, I could barely stand on my own. Leaning on my husband for support and gritting through intense pain…so intense.
I remember thinking this time, I wanted to look soft and peaceful. I wanted a presence of tranquility. Partially because I thought if I looked calm, then it would mean I had mastered it better. The pain, the emotions, the breathing…if I mastered it, I would feel and look at peace. And honestly, because even though we continue to shed light on the raw and real that is birth….it’s often times the peaceful and pleasantly looking ones that garner the honor of being “beautiful births”.
For me again this time though, there was peace and beauty. And hardship and trust. All mixed in but displayed with that same raw, intensity I vividly remember from the last time. In fact I would say Wren’s birth held even more intensity because her journey…our journey…pushed my limits and my trust even more this time.
So there I was, faced with the grueling task of not only helping my body work through the powerful waves of contractions but now I had to bring myself to a deeper level of pain and hold it there. And repeat it over and over until I could get this beautiful baby girl into an ideal position for her final decent. It was now a little before 7am and I positioned myself in front of my wall that had been adorned with lights and affirmations, I tried to look at the words and dig deep. I tried to lift up my pelvis and hold my belly, I tried to move in the way that was needed. And I cried, and I wailed, and I begged for another option because this time it seemed far harder then it did before. I tried to will my body to do what was necessary but I was fighting against the urge to create more discomfort within myself. Alisha told me there was the option of trying Walcher’s pose (eek! I have only done that with one client but knew how uncomfortable that was too) but she asked me to at least try for 20 lift and tucks. It’s like trying to pick yourself up off the ground when you’ve collapsed after the most intense workout of your life. It’s like trying to rally when you have nothing left to give. I could hear the words of my incredible husband and my Doula and remember thinking “I’ve said these things to so many people before but it’s not working right now.” But instead I remembered the song, “I hear you whisper you have nothing left…”
Amanda gave me some more specific suggestions for making my lift and tucks more effective. At which point I remember us conversing and her saying “Have you ever seen people do these a few times and then their baby is just here shortly after.” To which my body responded with my water breaking and splashing up onto the wall. (Hilariously, later on I would find out Amanda didn’t realize it was my water but thought I just peed myself).
This was at least the progress I needed. When my water broke with Grey, he was born shortly after. So I had hoped this would be the same and asked for someone to wake up my two older kids. I continued with a few more lift and tucks and I felt a shift in pressure and was so grateful to know she was moving down into position and would hopefully soon be here. I remember dropping down to my knees as the pressure filled me. Still lifting my belly to make sure she had the space she needed. Occasionally on all fours or leaning over the ball as I let the feeling of her head slowly fill the space and stretch me in a way that’s fiery and yet relieving. It’s the pain that you yearn for. The moment all the others have prepared you for. Built on. It’s the sensation that perhaps burns the most but brings the most insane and rewarding relief and release.
My kids had crept into the room a little before this. Hearing they had been at the bottom of the stairs but waiting for the ok to come up. They had slept most of the night but said they had set alarms to check in and say prayers over me. I was so glad to see them enter the space and reminded them it may be loud and intense but mom and baby were both safe and she was going to be here soon. They sat patiently on the bed and I tried to position myself so I could look at them and let them know I was ok.
As it was time for her head to emerge I remember letting out an incredibly primitive roar. It was a release of all the energy and power built inside of me to get to this moment. I reached down and felt her head. Burning. Intensity. Gratitude. I was finally going to meet her. Pause. Another contraction came and I bore down to push the rest of her body out but didn’t feel her rotate or come down anymore. Time slowed. I remember saying “I think she needs help.” Another contraction came and it still seemed that only her head was out with no change. It felt like the longest waiting and I seemed to be giving it my all. Alisha asked ifI wanted help and I said yes. Instinctually I was not worried but I just remember saying “I think she needs some help, she feels stuck.” I remember hearing quietly but calmly from Alisha for her apprentice to grab the resuscitation cart. My heart never worried. I was never afraid. We had worked and prayed and gotten to this point and we just needed a hand. I never feared for my baby, I never cried out in worry. I allowed Alisha to assist her entrance into the world with a calm and steady hand. Her shoulder had been hung up and Alisha needed to carefully tuck it and let her arm come out. After that, she was out. There in my arms. I leaned back into my husband, gently rubbing her and waiting for her to come into herself, I decided to give her a few breaths myself. After about the third breath, I could see the movement in her chest and heard her start to cry. Such an incredible relief. We settled in on the floor and my two kids came to sit beside me. Looking down to indeed confirm she was a girl, we melted into the stillness of the space. Taking a collective breath about the magnitude of all that had just happened. How incredibly trying, and rough and challenging that was. And yet how exceptionally beautiful those moments to follow were. My kids admired the beauty of her cord, commented on the size and color of her placenta once it had arrived. They said such wise words of appreciation for my strength and what a miracle the gift of birth was. They didn’t flinch at the blood, they didn’t shy away from kissing the vernix on her head, they weren’t fearful of my screams and roars. They were proud, they were prayerful, they were grateful. And in those moments I knew I had not only changed myself again. But I had also changed them and the way they viewed birth and mothers with love and reverence. I knew then my daughter would never doubt the power of her body, and my son would always respect the women in his life.
After I had birthed the placenta and cleaned off in the shower, we all snuggled into my bed where we ate, recapped what had transpired and had the surprising moment of weighing our sweet baby girl, who took a group effort to bring her so lovingly into this space. You can imagine the shock on my face to see our delicate little love weighing in at 10 pounds 8 ounces. So much sweet baby to love. It’s no wonder she needed a little help. Help I was so grateful to have from the calm and skilled presence of our midwife, Alisha.
Holding my new baby, on a high of oxytocin and gratitude, I was humbled at the fact that my journey of birth had not gone in the direction I had imagined. This last travel through the labyrinth of birth had me filled with reflections. I had ingrained in my mind the perfect picture I would share from this experience…the rewards of preparation and the beauty of tranquility and surrender. However challenging and unpredictable this journey for Wren and I was, it still depicted the beauty of birth.
Because birth is beautiful. It isn’t because there’s twinkling lights or music playing softly. It isn’t beautiful because it went fast or slow or easy. Birth is beautiful because of its ability to break you. To push you to your limits, to send you to your knees. To bring you to a place where you have to see and feel things you maybe didn’t plan for. Or maybe you hoped wouldn’t happen. Sometimes we have to push the limits of what breaks us to see what is on the other side. We have to succumb to what we didn’t plan for to find our grit and our strength. We have to find the part of us…as mothers…to have a willingness to be broken open to see what lessons await us on other side.
There are very few challenges in life that will take us to the physical and emotional depths that labor will. It reminds me of the redemption story. We have to be broken to be made whole again.
For some of us that brokenness may be emotional, some spiritual or physical. Or maybe a little bit of it all. Maybe you walked in willing to be changed. Maybe you came in prepared to not have to change. Prepared that things would go your way.
…and sometimes it does. But for me this lesson was one I had to have. The lesson shown light on my weaknesses. My desire to prepare for a specific outcome. My desire for control. But in laying my weaknesses down… in declaring I knew I would be broken….I opened myself up for so much more
The support of the people around me. The wisdom, patience, encouragement, skill and pure love and faith from the team around me. I opened myself up to have my children watch me wail and roar and curse and cry and come out with them telling me how strong they thought I was.
In my experience being a Doula, I’ve seen so many births. So many times I’ve walked away and thought, what could I have done differently…what can I learn from this experience? How can I better serve the people whom I have the honor of attending in birth. And some times, I walk away and think…it’s still out of my hands.
We can prep and we can move, we can breathe and pray and meditate, we can eat and learn and dance and sway…and of course that helps set the stage to help our journey. But each journey is still in it’s own way, unique and unpredictable at times. But most of the time, if you can open yourself to some of the lessons our bodies, our babies and our journeys are meant to teach us, there is still beauty in the lessons to be learned.
I’m forever grateful for the team that was in my corner. The people that were a part of this story. My first midwife, Margo for shaping my views of birth with Grey and accompanying me on the beginning of this pregnancy journey, taking me to a level of wisdom and intuition I needed to pull from. And for Alisha and her team…for creating space for me in their schedule, for being placed on my path when I needed her prayerful wisdom and skilled hands. My Doula, Amanda. Though I may have had the knowledge and tools, her ability to intercede when I needed to turn my Doula brain off and lean into myself. For her hands that brought comfort and her words that encouraged. Birth is private and undisturbed and instinctual. But the power of being held, respected and ushered into birth by the sacred counsel of women was a gift. My husband was, as always, my rock, my encouragement, my safe habor. Find a partner who believes in the power of physiological birth and supports your path to get there.
With Love and Light,
Amanda
