MY BIRTH STORIES

or, why I support home birth

Part I: Jesse's birth

I used to believe that babies should be born in hospitals. I thought that having a baby at home was dangerous and foolish. But not any more.

When I had Jesse in 1992, I didn't consider a home-birth for one second. He was born in a hospital. I was induced with prostaglandin cervical gel 3 days after my due date. I went into labor immediately, had 4 hours of back-to-back excruciating contractions, vomited non-stop throughout the whole labor, and begged for an IV because I was so thirsty I couldn't stand it. After three-and-a-half hours, I was 4 cm dilated and pleaded for painkillers (even though I had promised myself beforehand that I would not accept anything for pain), and I got a shot of demerol. Less than half an hour later, my son was delivered by a nurse -- the doctor didn't make it in time. I tore so badly that it took the doctor an hour to sew me up and it was two months before I could sit down comfortably. Jesse was too groggy to nurse, and I was too groggy to appreciate that miraculous moment when I first held him, tightly swaddled, in my arms about an hour after he had emerged from my body.

Despite the induced labor, the vomiting, the demerol, the perineal tearing and all those stitches, the manual extraction of my placenta and pitocin shot, and the Staphylococcus aureus infection that Jesse picked up in the hospital (a deadly hospital-borne strain which required a 6-day course of intravenous antibiotics – see the pic of the IV contraption on his hand – that led to a yeast infection and nine weeks of round-the-clock pain and screaming for the poor baby), I had never considered the birth of Jesse to be anything short of wonderful! I was so thrilled to have this little person in my life that the birth experience was filed under "glorious moments" in my memory! Then, seven years later, I became pregnant with Liam, and I looked back at the birth of Jesse through different lenses – I wanted Liam's birth to be different.

Jesse three days old in hospital with IV

and skin infection

Part II: Liam's Birth

Early in my pregnancy with Liam, a friend gave me a copy of the Sears' "The Birth Book". I read it cover to cover and, for the first time, wondered if perhaps a homebirth might be for me.

I surfed the internet and read homebirth web sites and visited homebirth forums. I read about hospital births vs homebirths in medical journals and midwifery magazines, I talked to doctors, I talked to midwives, I talked to moms who’d had home births, and over a period of a few months, I came to look at birth in a whole new way.

One birth story -- Angelica's Birth on the Alternamoms Unite! site -- listed all the routine hospital procedures that had NOT happened at her home birth, and I kept going back to that story. Finally, I made up my mind that I was going to have a home waterbirth with a midwife. I bought an inflatable pool, told everyone what I was doing, and defended my position against an onslaught of criticism. I was so excited at the prospect of having a natural birth, free of routine and not-so-routine medical interventions.

But, when I received a package of information in the mail from the area midwife, I realized that there was no way that I would be able to afford her fee. She earns every penny and I would have gladly paid her double what she charged, but there was no way I could come up with the money, and I didn't feel right asking her to reduce her rates for me. I was devastated, and angry that medicare covers hospital births but not home births.

Forced to change my plans, I managed to find a wonderful, young, female doctor who seemed to be very respectful of my wishes, and I set about finding ways to ensure that my hospital birth would be as rewarding an experience as possible. I made a birth plan and made sure that my doctor was aware of my wants and don't-wants, visited the hospital and talked to the L & D nurses, and so on. And although I thought it was possible have a satisfying hospital birth, I kept finding myself being drawn back to the homebirth websites, reading the birth stories that were so far removed from my experience having Jesse in a hospital. I constantly found myself fantasizing about having my baby at home. I knew I could have a relatively intervention-free birth in the hospital here, although I might have to fight for it, but the whole idea just didn’t *feel* right. I felt so connected with my body and my baby throughout this pregnancy, and I felt compelled to not give up on the home birth idea… every speck of intuition told me that everything would be fine… and I wanted so badly to trust my intuition.

Being a single mother, I'd never really considered an unassisted birth (i.e., no midwife or doctor present) an option. Jesse's father had agreed to help me conceive Liam, but that's all, and he lived in another city. My close friends, at least the ones who lived near enough to help with the birth, were career women who didn't have children and their views on childbirth were very mainstream (i.e., babies should be born in hospitals where they have the technology to intervene when things go wrong… with zero consideration of the fact that hospital interventions are sometimes the *reason* things go wrong, as in Jesse’s case!). But, I couldn't get the unassisted birth fantasy out of my head. I told a few of my friends who support home birth, and I received lots of encouragement and offers to help as much as was possible from a distance. I began to seriously consider the idea and read everything I could about unassisted childbirth. For the record, whether you agree with home birth or not, I believe *everyone* should do that… sometimes babies come quickly and it’s important to know what to do!

For a week (i.e., since my ‘due date’), I had been having contractions every afternoon and evening, but they were irregular and usually stopped as soon as I went to bed. But that Sunday afternoon, one week past my due date, they were quite a bit stronger than usual. I was brimming with excitement and anticipation. I still wasn't sure where I was going to have this baby though! I spent the afternoon gathering more information off the various homebirth websites, re-reading about possible birth complications and what to do in the event that something goes wrong, what supplies are needed for a homebirth, and so on. And I made a decision -- I decided I would prepare for an unassisted homebirth in case that’s the path I chose when it was clear that I was in labour, while allowing myself the freedom to go to the hospital if I changed my mind. I had made prior arrangements to call my friend when I went into labor and she would come over and stay with me and take me to the hospital and be there for the birth. I cannot describe the load that was lifted off me once I made up my mind that I would allow myself the option of having my baby at home. It was such an empowering moment!

I want to take a minute here for those of you who are reading this in horror and thinking, “How could she put her baby’s life at risk like that… it’s so selfish! There are so many things that can go wrong!” I know that this way of thinking is extremely well-engrained in us through the media, and by doctors, nurses, and all those people who are certain that their babies would have died if they had not been born in a hospital… that *their* c-section was necessary…etc. I know how hard it is to undo all that indoctrination over the years, but there are a few things worth considering.

First, until approximately the 1930s – 1940s, the large majority of babies were born at home, and the human race survived – in fact, the infant mortality rate sky-rocketed when hospital deliveries became popular. The statistics now show that hospital and home births have the same morbidity and mortality rates, but many studies showing that satisfaction with the birth process is significantly higher among home-birthing women. In some western countries, the majority of women still have their babies at home (70% of deliveries in the Netherlands occurred at home, for example, in the 1980s… probably still do, but I’m not up on the latest stats). There, they don’t see birth as a medical emergency waiting to happen, the way we tend to.

Second, many so called ‘necessary’ medical interventions are done for the convenience of the medical staff, although they would have parents believe they are done for the safety and well-being of the baby and/or mother. For example, I was only three days over-due with Jesse when the doctor recommended that I be induced, citing vague medical risks. I saw the doctor on a Thursday morning and he said I should go to the hospital that evening to start the induction procedure (I was sooo naïve then when I look back now!). I dutifully followed “doctor’s orders”. I later learned that the majority of inductions are started on Thursday evenings… mom has her baby in her arms some time on Friday in most cases. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out why that is! In addition, studies show that only 5% of c-sections are medically necessary – the rest are done for various other reasons, one being, at the risk of sounding incredibly cynical, that doctors get paid 10x as much money for doing a c-section as a vaginal delivery (and I honestly don’t believe that money is the motivating factor in most cases, but doctors do have to pay those exhorbitant malpractice insurance premiums somehow – and the premiums are *much* higher for doctors who choose to deliver babies than those who don’t). On a related note, if a doctor does a c-section and something goes wrong, or a baby is born with problems, s/he is at a much lower risk of malpractice litigation than if the delivery was done vaginally. For example, it used to be thought that cerebral palsy was caused by lack of oxygen to the baby during birth, and many doctors were sued for not doing c-sections by the parents of babies born with CP. We now know that CP often begins in the womb long before delivery, so no c-section could prevent it!

Third, remember that hospitals are full of sick people with germs… foreign germs that are dangerous for newborns because they don’t have antibodies against them (Jesse could have died from the infection he got in the hospital because someone did not wash their hands properly or something was not properly disinfected!). The mother’s house may be full of germs too, but they are familiar germs… the baby will have antibodies against them.

There are many other arguments against hospital births too, but instead of writing a book on them, I’ll direct you to some that have already been written (all can be found at stores like Chapters : (a) Immaculate Deception II by S Arms, (b) Silent Knife by Lois J. Estner, (c) Unassisted Homebirth: An Act of Love by Lynn M. Griesemer, (d) The Power of Pleasurable Childbirth: Safety, Simplicity, and Satisfaction Are All Within Our Reach by Laurie Annis Morgan (and there are many, many more).

Okay…back to the events of that Sunday in March, 1999… So I drove to the drugstore and bought the things I needed for a home birth. Then I called my home-birth supportive friends (unfortunately, they all lived in very far away places) and told them that I was definitely in labor! It was such an exciting time. I was so thrilled that I was finally going to meet my baby! I felt so strong in my intuition and instincts about the birth… I just *knew* everything was going to be fine… I felt like a cat must feel when she wants to hide away from the world and have her babies in peace.

The contractions continued throughout the day, and by about 11 p.m. that night, they were starting to get painful. I filled the bathtub with warm water and moved between my bedroom and the bathtub for the next several hours. I carried the cordless phone with me, and friends called regularly to check on me. I turned off the lights and lit every candle I could find. The atmosphere was nothing short of mystical and despite the pain, I was ecstatic. Around 4 a.m., my contractions began to get very painful so I yelled my head off through each one and it felt soooo great to yell! After all, there was no-one but my very puzzled-looking dog to hear me (Jesse was sleeping over at his friend's house). I was brimming with anticipation at the thought of meeting my baby. I decided that I would call my friend (the one who was going to take me to the hospital) and tell her it was time to come over. It was hard to talk because the contractions were so intense. I could not have imagined getting in a car and going to the hospital at that point !

The next few hours flew past. I went back and forth between my bed and the bathtub. I was on my hands and knees on my bed (a great labour position) when I felt the baby coming down the birth canal. I was wondering where my friend was – it seemed like hours since I’d called her and she only lived 45 min away! I had enjoyed being alone during the first half of my labour, but I didn’t want to be alone for the birth (although I was prepared in case that happened). Then, just as I was overwhelmed by a very strong contraction, I heard knocking and banging on the front door. My friend had arrived! ... but it seems that when, in the throes of labor, I had "unlocked" the door, I must have actually locked it instead! When the contraction subsided momentarily, I ran, stark naked with a towel between my legs (a comical sight, I'm sure!) to the front door and unlocked it -- but I was too late. Thinking that I must have gone to the hospital without her (the doors were locked and the house looked dark because I had only candles burning), she had gone back to her car. I was immediately consumed by another contraction that forced me to my knees and I crawled off to the bathroom to grab some towels hoping she would try the door again.

A minute later I felt myself give a big involuntary push and realized that my baby was almost here! I reached down and felt his head crowning! It was such a glorious moment! I squatted, piled towels under me, and my

baby's head emerged. I reached down and I could feel his head, but couldn't tell which way he was facing and I couldn't see anything, I could only feel him. A minute later, he slid out into my arms. I lowered him gently onto the towels, unwrapped the cord around his neck, and he let out a strong cry… the feeling that rushed over me at that moment is just indescribable. It was pure joy!

I held him against my skin and laid back against the side of the tub in awe. I tried to put my slippery newborn to my breast, but realized that I was shaking from head to toe so hard that there was no way he could possibly latch on! I had nothing to wrap around me because the towels were all wet and bloody on the floor… I would have much preferred to give birth in my bedroom! Then as I sat there, marveling at my new baby, a gush of blood ran out of me onto the bathroom floor… I knew that was normal, but it was at then that I realized how much I wanted my friend there… but all I could do was sit back and listen to her car pulling out of the driveway. It was about the happiest and saddest moment of my life!

I sat there holding my baby for what seemed like about 10 minutes (although later I found out that it was actually about 45 minutes!), trying to nurse him and waiting for the placenta. It didn't come out, and I was eventually able to get up. I made my way to my bedroom holding my baby who was still attached to me via his umbilical cord and called my neighbor – not because anything was wrong, but because I just really wanted someone to share this amazing moment with! Then I tied off the cord and cut it.

Once I had given birth, I should have just crawled into bed with my baby and waited for my friend to call or come back. Calling my neighbor was a big mistake -- she took one look at the blood on the bathroom floor and called 911. They insisted on taking me to the nearest ER and when I protested, they made me feel like I didn’t have a choice (plus I’d been up all night having a baby and just wasn’t up to arguing!), although physically, I felt fine once I had a blanket around me and got warmed up.

When I arrived at the ER, I was immediately labeled a "difficult" patient because I questioned and refused every one of their interventions. They didn't get to do anything to me or the baby in the end… and there was no need to! I hadn’t been hit by a truck… I’d had a baby… something women have been doing for thousands of years!

Within seconds of being wheeled in the door, someone was sticking a thermometer in my mouth, trying to tie a tourniquette around my arm, and another one had a pen and clipboard and was firing questions at me. They tried to stick an IV in me "in case I was dehydrated" -- I told them I was quite capable of drinking and they could bring me a glass of water if they were worried about that (guess that was too much trouble b/c I kept asking for one for the next hour!). Then the doctor tried to pull out the placenta (this is routine in the hospital because it can take as long as a couple of hours to come out naturally, and no-one wants to wait around that long – but pulling the placenta out can cause hemorrhaging, so they have to give the mom a pitocin shot to prevent that! I told them I wanted to nurse my baby instead (nursing causes the release of oxytocin which helps to expel the placenta and prevent hemorrhaging); this time he latched on like a pro and the placenta came out right away. I heard the doctor ask the nurse to go get a shot of pitocin for me -- I told them that I didn't need pitocin since I wasn't hemmorhaging (so I didn't get the shot, but it was a battle!). Then I had a major argument over the eye ointment (given to the baby routinely just in case the mom has syphilis) -- my own doctor was fine with the baby not having the eye ointment, but this doctor was a real jerk about it! It was annoying having to fight them off, but I did it and by that afternoon we were happily back at home. Phew!

I never did feel like I'd just had a baby. I had no tearing, no pain, and I had tons of energy following Liam's birth (this was a good thing because I arrived home from the hospital in the pouring rain to find that my basement was flooded and there was a huge mess to clean up)! It was soooo different from my postpartum experience with Jesse (two days after his birth I was still confined to bed with a catheter and an IV, and it was two months before I could sit down again without being in pain!). I went to get groceries when Liam was less than 24 hours old and people marvelled at how good I looked. And I couldn't believe how great I felt!

Having my baby at home was the most incredible, instinctual, spiritual and empowering experience of my life! Isn’t that what giving birth should be like?!?!

Brothers!

EPILOGUE

So, you may be wondering, what happened to my friend that she took so long to get there? She was the victim of a chain of events that makes me think that maybe she was not supposed to get there until moments before the baby was to be born!

I woke her up at 4:30 a.m. – she got dressed, reheated some coffee that was left in the pot, and was out the door in about ten minutes. But this was the middle of March, it was dark, and pouring rain. She got in her car only to discover that her windshield wiper motor was broken. She decided to try driving without any wipers… and, as you might expect, she didn’t get very far before she had to turn around and go back because she couldn’t see (she described hanging out her driver’s door window, trying to wipe the windshield with a towel while she was driving!). But she had a plan – she would take a cab to her parent’s place (about a twenty minute drive) and borrow their car. So she called a cab, and told them it was an emergency. Maybe the first cab driver misunderstood and thought it was SHE who was about to give birth any minute and didn’t want to chance having to play widwife in the back of his cab, but for whatever reason, he didn’t show up. After waiting what she thought was an unreasonable amount of time, she called another cab company. Again, she waited and waited… something happened to the cab on its way to her place (flat tire or something… never did get the exact story) and that cab didn’t show up either. She said she tried to call me, but I had the phone with me the whole time and it didn’t ring, so I expect that in her panic, she dialed the wrong number! Eventually, the cab company sent another car over and she made it to her parents’ house. But the house was locked, the “hidden” key wasn’t there, and it took her ages, banging on the door to wake them up. It was 7:30 by the time she got to my place (which is how I know what time Liam was born… because by that point, I had lost all track of time and had no clue what time it was! She said the 7:30 news was coming on the car radio as she turned into my driveway!).

When she tried my door and found it locked, she walked around the house to see if the back door was open, and given that the house looked dark (and that there was no answer earlier when she tried to call me), she assumed that I must have called someone else or maybe an ambulance to take me to the hospital. So she went to the hospital and when I wasn’t there, she was almost beside herself! The nurses called my doctor, and my friend and my doctor sat at the hospital together waiting for me. Meanwhile, probably right around the time she was arriving at the hospital, I was being wheeled into the back of an ambulance on a gurney… and for some reason that I will never understand, despite my protests, they took me to a *different* hospital!!! In the end, it was a week before I finally saw my friend!