I gave birth at my parents home, in a big blue tub filled with nice warm water. The experience I planned for 9 long months had a fairy tale ending. I know most women don't enjoy the labor and birth process, but I loved mine. Don't get me wrong...there were plenty of tears and frustration on hand, but the actual process and how it took place--perfect. I can't imagine ever going back to a hospital to give birth. After the horrible miseries we all had to endure for the Bear's birth, which was essentially the fault of one very cold and callous man, I had a chance to reclaim one of my basic human rights. I was told that I could not have a baby without a hospital, without a trained medical staff, without intervention. I told myself, I can do this. Instead of going to a building full of sick and dying people, controlled by OBs (mostly men) telling me with every injection, intervention, forced starvation and IV tube that women do not know how to birth children; I chose me and believed in my natural ability as a woman.
I chose my parent's home. A place filled with magical childhood memories, familiar smells, and most importantly unrestricted access to my family and food.
When I arrived at my parents home, I was free to roam around the house as my contractions began to intensify. I could use the restroom, eat anything my heart desired, and drink plenty of water to keep my energy flowing for the tough marathon ahead. What a stark contrast to being wheeled into a cold unfamiliar room, all but strapped to an uncomfortable bed, having needles forced into my veins, denied access to a bathroom and deprived of food and water for 24 hours. In every country around the world, midwives are valued, loved, respected members of the social and medical worlds. Here in America, they are shunned, oppressed, legally cornered and abused by the majority of OBs. OBs that don't want to lose customers, insurance money, etc. Ultimately birth is a business (Check out Ricki Lake's The Business of Being Born, or for a more in depth read, "Born in the USA") and midwives cut in on that business considerably. The Bear's birth cost a whopping 50k+, that package included 6 months worth of 18 appointments that each lasted 5 minutes, extreme abuse and neglect and as you know, one very horrific and scarring hospital experience. Cubby, born at home and under the excellent care of a trained midwife, received 28 prenatal visits each lasting 30-45 minutes, one beautiful home birth and 6 WEEKS of post natal care for mommy and baby. That package cost 4k. TOTAL. Covered by insurance, we had to pay only a fraction of that. (Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Obama). Midwives are slowly beginning to see an increase in patients. My home birth cost Baptist hospital 50k+...no wonder they feed us all such drivel about home birth and midwives, they want their cut!
If you have a mind to, read up on midwives and the horrors they have battled (and continue to battle) here in the US. Read about their courage and dedication to women. Its a beautiful and inspiring legacy.
I developed a great relationship with my midwife (her assistant at the birth was also lovely!) and I felt completely loved and supported by my birth team. I handled the contractions well, they really did not hurt until the last 15 minutes of transition. Cubby was on track to be born before dawn but he refused to stop sucking his thumb, which made progress down the canal quite slow. He decided to make his grand entrance at almost 6 PM!
At the Bear's birth I had a labor nurse screaming in my ear to bear down and PUSH! At Cubby's birth I had two gentle women at the foot of the tub, speaking to me softly and encouraging me to breathe the baby down. My husband had put on his swim trunks and crawled in behind me. I curled up between his legs and proceeded to birth our son, while he held me in his arms. When Cubby crowned they told me to feel his head. Just touching that beautiful tiny head encouraged me to keep going. He came out so quickly and peacefully, submerged in water and quite cranky to have left the womb. The midwife made sure his neck was free of the chord and then she said "Reach down and pull out your baby." And I did! I pulled him up out of the water and onto my chest, where he stayed, undisturbed for 3 hours. What joy! Bringing my own baby into the world and holding him, as it should be, completely undisturbed. The Bear came over and got in the water and watched as we announced, "Its a boy!" Our little family of four huddled close together in the water and felt peace and overwhelming happiness in that precious moment. I felt no pain, no discomfort, just a tremendous wave of love.
At the Bear's birth they performed an episiotomy, though I begged them not to. After they cut me and I tore again, they wrenched him from me and separated us for hours. They wouldn't let me hold him or bond with him, I thought my heart would break. I was forced to call the nursery 6 hours later and threaten them with bodily harm before they consented to bring him to me. I had to stay hooked up to machines and remain on my back for days and was in a tremendous amount of pain. I wept uncontrollably when I came home and it took months to recover physically.
After Cubby's birth I ate a large meal, took a shower, nursed him, played with him, watched his physical exam and welcomed the entire family over to sing Happy Birthday and cut a cake for him. Approximately 4 hours after giving birth, we rode home as a family and slept comfortably in our own beds.
I will always give birth at home. Hands down. No one can tell me how to give birth. No one. Keep your drugs and your medicines and your hideous interventions. I want to feel my children come into the world. I want those precious first hours of intoxicating love and bonding without interruption from a medical health professional and without feeling paralyzed from the waist down.
Cubby is a miraculous baby. He is evidence of my dreams and hopes. He is the product of bravery in reclaiming my ability as a woman. We are knit together from the experience so tightly, I feel it tugging at me from time to time, that beautiful bond of love at first sight.
Six months old today. A sweet blue eyed boy with a smile and a giggle for everyone he sees. I love nursing him and seeing the absolute delight he takes in it. The moments we share throughout the day when he eats are precious to me. He is watching the Bear closely. Learning how to talk (Mama and various consonants are all ready distinguishable) and even trying to crawl. The next six months will go by faster than the first.
Happy Birthday, my sweet little boy. I love you with all my heart.
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