Birth Stories
Rishi's birth of Ruvi
I thought I was so smart. I thought I always had a high tolerance for pain. Therefore, I was able to so confidently repel anything unnatural, any intervention. My poor obstetrician literally begged me to be more open minded.
No induction because I was happy to allow the baby to decide when it was ready to enter this world. It can also lead to a prolonged and extra painful labor. No epidural because of the very small chance of it causing irreversible damage to my back. Many times the epidural can lose its effect as well. Why risk it? No vacuum or forceps. I could not do that to my poor baby. No gas because they say it causes nausea. I have a phobia against vomiting. And the list goes on. All of which I made very clear to my obstetrician.
As well, I did not want anybody aside from the hospital staff in the room with me whilst I labored or gave birth. I could not bear the thought of anyone seeing me in such a state. According to Jewish law, my husband was not allowed in the room at childbirth. My mother was not happy that she could not be there to support me. Thankfully she understood. I invited her and my father to roam the hospital corridors; I wanted them there as soon as the baby was born. However, my mother did insist on getting me a doula and managed to persuade me to find one myself. It was the best advice she has ever given me.
And so began my game of broken telephone until I found Jo. I met Jo a number of times before the birth to make sure we were on the same page. Luckily we clicked straight away. Jo was just so normal and down to earth. I was worried I would not find someone because of my preconception that doulas are hippie earthy crunchy. I am not like that at all. So we discussed the no's I mentioned above, as well as me wanting to labor at home for as long as possible.
Thank G-d I was blessed with a relatively easy pregnancy. I only complain about having needed to pass urine every two minutes. At the most inconvenient times too: the second I stepped out my front door, and during the night.
During the last couple of weeks of my pregnancy I felt signs of labor and was desperately waiting to pop. Waiting for the mucus plug; waiting for a show. Anything to tell me that today would be the day.
It was approximately 10:15pm on a Tuesday night. I was resting and trying to read a little when I got up to use the bathroom. I suddenly felt a pop and gushes. Thank G-d I was wearing a nice big pad. I ran to the bathroom. My waters were red. I freaked out. I quickly called my obstetrician. He told me he would like me to come in so he could check if it was just a show. Uh hello! A show? I knew my waters had broken. I updated Jo. I called my mom to tell her the news. She insisted on driving us to the hospital. About ten minutes later my labor pangs came crashing in. I was beyond irritable. My mother was still not there. We debated calling a taxi. We got to the hospital at 11pm. I was up on my knees leaning over the back of the seat and moaning the whole way there. My husband was telling me to sit properly and put my seat belt on.
They strapped me to the CTG. We called Jo again and asked her to come. It was becoming unbearable. I was ready to burst out of the bed. What were they thinking? I am not sure how I was able to stay on it for as long as I did.
The obstetrician arrived, but I could not talk.
Once I was unchained I could not stay in one spot. I walked into the bathroom. My irritability was reaching new heights. I lost all shame. I could no longer tolerate my clothing. I felt major urges to pass bowel. No one mentioned that it may have been THE urge to push. I was too scared to push anyhow. I was losing my breath. Labor takes your breath away, in the other way. Jo the angel reminded me to breath. Don't know how I could have survived without her.
The midwife came in to ask if I wanted the obstetrician to check me. I said no, just because I could. And he listened. In hindsight I wish he had not. Perhaps I had been ready to push.
Intense was not the word, nor intolerable. There is no way to describe the pain. I cried out for an epidural, all the while knowing I had pre-warned my doula not to listen to me, and knowing that made it much harder. I vowed never to forget the strength of my pain. I thought I would die. I settled in the bath thinking that it would give me the most relief, though the word relief did not exist in that bathroom. I could not move.
Eventually I succumbed and let the waves hit me. They had no pity.
All the while, no one ever knew what stage of labor I was at. It never established itself.
I then decided to check how things were doing and kind of gave myself an internal examination, I guess. It felt soft. I asked Jo if the top of the babies head felt soft. By then I was barely talking. I could not say much after that. Without warning Jo I started pushing. I could not stop myself. It was amazing. I did not care how painful it would be. I just wanted the baby out. It was a good pain. I was groaning. Jo realized something was amiss. She quickly checked it out and realized birth was imminent; Jo buzzed the midwives "baby in bath."
They came running. I remember my smile was literally ear to ear. I felt it. I knew it would all be over soon and I was about to meet my baby. They told me to get that smile off my face and start pushing. The head was out, but the baby was not turning. The midwives decided to do the turning for the baby with their hands. Apparently that was when I tore. Third degree tear. Not fun. Then finally he was placed on me; relief, exhilaration, joy, elation. The cutest little being I had ever beheld. The nine months of growth within me, perfection, the greatest gift.
No induction because I was happy to allow the baby to decide when it was ready to enter this world. It can also lead to a prolonged and extra painful labor. No epidural because of the very small chance of it causing irreversible damage to my back. Many times the epidural can lose its effect as well. Why risk it? No vacuum or forceps. I could not do that to my poor baby. No gas because they say it causes nausea. I have a phobia against vomiting. And the list goes on. All of which I made very clear to my obstetrician.
As well, I did not want anybody aside from the hospital staff in the room with me whilst I labored or gave birth. I could not bear the thought of anyone seeing me in such a state. According to Jewish law, my husband was not allowed in the room at childbirth. My mother was not happy that she could not be there to support me. Thankfully she understood. I invited her and my father to roam the hospital corridors; I wanted them there as soon as the baby was born. However, my mother did insist on getting me a doula and managed to persuade me to find one myself. It was the best advice she has ever given me.
And so began my game of broken telephone until I found Jo. I met Jo a number of times before the birth to make sure we were on the same page. Luckily we clicked straight away. Jo was just so normal and down to earth. I was worried I would not find someone because of my preconception that doulas are hippie earthy crunchy. I am not like that at all. So we discussed the no's I mentioned above, as well as me wanting to labor at home for as long as possible.
Thank G-d I was blessed with a relatively easy pregnancy. I only complain about having needed to pass urine every two minutes. At the most inconvenient times too: the second I stepped out my front door, and during the night.
During the last couple of weeks of my pregnancy I felt signs of labor and was desperately waiting to pop. Waiting for the mucus plug; waiting for a show. Anything to tell me that today would be the day.
It was approximately 10:15pm on a Tuesday night. I was resting and trying to read a little when I got up to use the bathroom. I suddenly felt a pop and gushes. Thank G-d I was wearing a nice big pad. I ran to the bathroom. My waters were red. I freaked out. I quickly called my obstetrician. He told me he would like me to come in so he could check if it was just a show. Uh hello! A show? I knew my waters had broken. I updated Jo. I called my mom to tell her the news. She insisted on driving us to the hospital. About ten minutes later my labor pangs came crashing in. I was beyond irritable. My mother was still not there. We debated calling a taxi. We got to the hospital at 11pm. I was up on my knees leaning over the back of the seat and moaning the whole way there. My husband was telling me to sit properly and put my seat belt on.
They strapped me to the CTG. We called Jo again and asked her to come. It was becoming unbearable. I was ready to burst out of the bed. What were they thinking? I am not sure how I was able to stay on it for as long as I did.
The obstetrician arrived, but I could not talk.
Once I was unchained I could not stay in one spot. I walked into the bathroom. My irritability was reaching new heights. I lost all shame. I could no longer tolerate my clothing. I felt major urges to pass bowel. No one mentioned that it may have been THE urge to push. I was too scared to push anyhow. I was losing my breath. Labor takes your breath away, in the other way. Jo the angel reminded me to breath. Don't know how I could have survived without her.
The midwife came in to ask if I wanted the obstetrician to check me. I said no, just because I could. And he listened. In hindsight I wish he had not. Perhaps I had been ready to push.
Intense was not the word, nor intolerable. There is no way to describe the pain. I cried out for an epidural, all the while knowing I had pre-warned my doula not to listen to me, and knowing that made it much harder. I vowed never to forget the strength of my pain. I thought I would die. I settled in the bath thinking that it would give me the most relief, though the word relief did not exist in that bathroom. I could not move.
Eventually I succumbed and let the waves hit me. They had no pity.
All the while, no one ever knew what stage of labor I was at. It never established itself.
I then decided to check how things were doing and kind of gave myself an internal examination, I guess. It felt soft. I asked Jo if the top of the babies head felt soft. By then I was barely talking. I could not say much after that. Without warning Jo I started pushing. I could not stop myself. It was amazing. I did not care how painful it would be. I just wanted the baby out. It was a good pain. I was groaning. Jo realized something was amiss. She quickly checked it out and realized birth was imminent; Jo buzzed the midwives "baby in bath."
They came running. I remember my smile was literally ear to ear. I felt it. I knew it would all be over soon and I was about to meet my baby. They told me to get that smile off my face and start pushing. The head was out, but the baby was not turning. The midwives decided to do the turning for the baby with their hands. Apparently that was when I tore. Third degree tear. Not fun. Then finally he was placed on me; relief, exhilaration, joy, elation. The cutest little being I had ever beheld. The nine months of growth within me, perfection, the greatest gift.
My birth of Temma
It started with a smile. It was 6am and I had been awake for an hour. I had actually had a good nights sleep. The first contraction was like a little flame being set alight, that just warmed the bottom of my belly...
I lay there for a couple of hours contemplating what the day would bring, interrupted occasionally (every 5-10 min) with the re-ignition of, and the constantly warming flame. By 8am I really had to concentrate to blow through it, to blow the flame out.
When Michael woke up I told him it was happening, but he should probably go to work anyway, at least just for the morning. After he had gotten himself and Kian ready to go, I changed my mind and decided I would keep him at home to run errands for me. (Little did I know what a good decision that was)
Before Michael took Kian to creche I explained to Kian that the baby might be coming today and he was ecstatic. It has been a long wait for him.
My idea of what I wanted my early labour to be like was just to be me by myself, without feeling any pressure from any onlookers and maybe getting a few things finished around the house. It was of course where I intended to give birth.
After Michael left to take Kian to school, I hopped out of bed and started sorting out and cleaning the bedroom. The contractions seemed to stop for a while, well for about half an hour, and then they came back. By the time I was cleaning the bathroom they seemed to be coming every few minutes and I had to stop and concentrate and breath through them. (My Pot-belly stove was starting to cook)
Michael got back about the time I had almost finished cleaning upstairs and I decided it was time to chill out and start keeping track of these contractions. Over the course of the next hour, Michael really had a hard time. He was trying to organise stuff between 30-40 sec contractions that were a little over 2 minutes apart. I had no idea they were so concentrated, but still quite short. I tried to lie down and rest a while, but that was no good, so uncomfortable and extremely painful. I had to pretty much stay standing the whole time and leaning on the wall or sofa for support during the contractions. I needed Michael there for every one of them, which surprised me. I didn't want anyone touching me for Kian's labour.
Michael rubbed my lower back and relaxed my shoulders. During this hour I also 'chatted' with Charlotte, my sister in the US, but realised that after I had to put the phone down for a dozen contractions, that it might prove to be a very expensive phone call for her. I also tried to eat some toast, but I could not seem to finish a mouthful before the next fire was upon me. I found some comfort for my legs by sitting on the yoga ball and leaning against the back of the sofa, but the smell of the new sheepskin I had bought and was leaning on, soon turned my stomach and I threw up the banana I had just managed to get down.
After the hour we called Kristy-Rae, my student midwife to give her some time to organise her family before having to come over. We also rang Annie, my primary midwife. She was just about to go into a meeting, so she said she would call back. We thought it was still early.
In the hour to follow, things got more and more intense. By the time Annie rang back I was urgent to have her there. When Annie arrived I was kneeling on the floor over the sofa, sweating hot and unable to move from that spot. I sat back with each contraction and leaned against Michael. I started needing some counter pressure on my lower back and tail bone. Up until then I was , with much effort, dealing with the contractions by going 'inside myself' and pushing the pain down and away. It was no longer a little flame to blow out, but a huge fireball not wanting smothering.
I was having trouble. (Time for the Fireman). Annie asked me if I wanted to push, which made me actually evaluated what I was feeling and I was feeling a lot of pressure. In a very short space of time my waters broke with what sounded like a pop and felt like a crack and I was hobbled to the half filled, semi-cold pool. Oh what a relief. (What better way to control a fire than with water). I really went into my own world in the pool. I groaned through each contraction and involuntarily pushed every now and then.
During this time Aimee, Kristy-Rae & Cary, my second midwife arrived. They were all roped into helping fill and warm the pool while they took turns to rub my back and occasionally give me a drink.
The involuntarily pushes were coming more frequently and for much longer. I still did not feel comfortable pushing with them. I tried my hardest to breath through them. Once Annie told me to relax my bum a little, that I would not rip apart and helped me try a few positions, I started helping it along. She (Temma) seemed happier with me squatting or kneeling leaning backwards.
Before I knew it she was crowning. As I put my hand between my legs, I could feel the softest flowing silky hair, and it was not mine. I imagined seaweed waving in the water. It was the best feeling and brought a big smile to my face. It gave me the incentive to go on and to help push her out to finally see her.
With a little bit of extra encouragement from Annie and a lot of yelling and groaning and yelling, this beautiful round head emerged. I could not stop touching that wonderful hair and then the small bumps of her face and those tiny ears. It seemed an eternity until my next contraction, but with another BIG push and Annie performing some fancy finger flip work, my gorgeous baby girl was born.
She came out of the water and into my arms and we looked at each other in awe.
She did not breath straight away, but I felt her cord still pulsing and I held her low. There was no hurry. In her time she took her first breath.
Welcome to the world baby Temma Joyce.
Post Natal Notes:
After having such a wanted and wonderful birth experience at home I was amazed to realise that a home birth is not just about the birth. My recovery after birth was just priceless. I was so relaxed, comfortable and 'at-home'. Family and friends were invaluable (especially the ones that cleaned out the pool) and I had no-where to move, except where I wanted to go.
I also found out that the intense feeling on my tail bone when my waters broke, did some damage that needed some recovery.
After worrying so much and having a previous episiotomy I was happy that my perineum remained intact even after a biggish (9lbs 8) baby, and it gave me little discomfort post-natally.
The 'Fancy finger flipwork' Annie performed was to unravel the cord from around her neck and arm. She said Temma came out with a 'handbag and necklace'.
I lay there for a couple of hours contemplating what the day would bring, interrupted occasionally (every 5-10 min) with the re-ignition of, and the constantly warming flame. By 8am I really had to concentrate to blow through it, to blow the flame out.
When Michael woke up I told him it was happening, but he should probably go to work anyway, at least just for the morning. After he had gotten himself and Kian ready to go, I changed my mind and decided I would keep him at home to run errands for me. (Little did I know what a good decision that was)
Before Michael took Kian to creche I explained to Kian that the baby might be coming today and he was ecstatic. It has been a long wait for him.
My idea of what I wanted my early labour to be like was just to be me by myself, without feeling any pressure from any onlookers and maybe getting a few things finished around the house. It was of course where I intended to give birth.
After Michael left to take Kian to school, I hopped out of bed and started sorting out and cleaning the bedroom. The contractions seemed to stop for a while, well for about half an hour, and then they came back. By the time I was cleaning the bathroom they seemed to be coming every few minutes and I had to stop and concentrate and breath through them. (My Pot-belly stove was starting to cook)
Michael got back about the time I had almost finished cleaning upstairs and I decided it was time to chill out and start keeping track of these contractions. Over the course of the next hour, Michael really had a hard time. He was trying to organise stuff between 30-40 sec contractions that were a little over 2 minutes apart. I had no idea they were so concentrated, but still quite short. I tried to lie down and rest a while, but that was no good, so uncomfortable and extremely painful. I had to pretty much stay standing the whole time and leaning on the wall or sofa for support during the contractions. I needed Michael there for every one of them, which surprised me. I didn't want anyone touching me for Kian's labour.
Michael rubbed my lower back and relaxed my shoulders. During this hour I also 'chatted' with Charlotte, my sister in the US, but realised that after I had to put the phone down for a dozen contractions, that it might prove to be a very expensive phone call for her. I also tried to eat some toast, but I could not seem to finish a mouthful before the next fire was upon me. I found some comfort for my legs by sitting on the yoga ball and leaning against the back of the sofa, but the smell of the new sheepskin I had bought and was leaning on, soon turned my stomach and I threw up the banana I had just managed to get down.
After the hour we called Kristy-Rae, my student midwife to give her some time to organise her family before having to come over. We also rang Annie, my primary midwife. She was just about to go into a meeting, so she said she would call back. We thought it was still early.
In the hour to follow, things got more and more intense. By the time Annie rang back I was urgent to have her there. When Annie arrived I was kneeling on the floor over the sofa, sweating hot and unable to move from that spot. I sat back with each contraction and leaned against Michael. I started needing some counter pressure on my lower back and tail bone. Up until then I was , with much effort, dealing with the contractions by going 'inside myself' and pushing the pain down and away. It was no longer a little flame to blow out, but a huge fireball not wanting smothering.
I was having trouble. (Time for the Fireman). Annie asked me if I wanted to push, which made me actually evaluated what I was feeling and I was feeling a lot of pressure. In a very short space of time my waters broke with what sounded like a pop and felt like a crack and I was hobbled to the half filled, semi-cold pool. Oh what a relief. (What better way to control a fire than with water). I really went into my own world in the pool. I groaned through each contraction and involuntarily pushed every now and then.
During this time Aimee, Kristy-Rae & Cary, my second midwife arrived. They were all roped into helping fill and warm the pool while they took turns to rub my back and occasionally give me a drink.
The involuntarily pushes were coming more frequently and for much longer. I still did not feel comfortable pushing with them. I tried my hardest to breath through them. Once Annie told me to relax my bum a little, that I would not rip apart and helped me try a few positions, I started helping it along. She (Temma) seemed happier with me squatting or kneeling leaning backwards.
Before I knew it she was crowning. As I put my hand between my legs, I could feel the softest flowing silky hair, and it was not mine. I imagined seaweed waving in the water. It was the best feeling and brought a big smile to my face. It gave me the incentive to go on and to help push her out to finally see her.
With a little bit of extra encouragement from Annie and a lot of yelling and groaning and yelling, this beautiful round head emerged. I could not stop touching that wonderful hair and then the small bumps of her face and those tiny ears. It seemed an eternity until my next contraction, but with another BIG push and Annie performing some fancy finger flip work, my gorgeous baby girl was born.
She came out of the water and into my arms and we looked at each other in awe.
She did not breath straight away, but I felt her cord still pulsing and I held her low. There was no hurry. In her time she took her first breath.
Welcome to the world baby Temma Joyce.
Post Natal Notes:
After having such a wanted and wonderful birth experience at home I was amazed to realise that a home birth is not just about the birth. My recovery after birth was just priceless. I was so relaxed, comfortable and 'at-home'. Family and friends were invaluable (especially the ones that cleaned out the pool) and I had no-where to move, except where I wanted to go.
I also found out that the intense feeling on my tail bone when my waters broke, did some damage that needed some recovery.
After worrying so much and having a previous episiotomy I was happy that my perineum remained intact even after a biggish (9lbs 8) baby, and it gave me little discomfort post-natally.
The 'Fancy finger flipwork' Annie performed was to unravel the cord from around her neck and arm. She said Temma came out with a 'handbag and necklace'.