I wrote it out formally about a year ago but it never got onto the blog. So below is the story. I'll post a comment on
Jonathan's first post with a link to this one.
Jonathan's
Gentle Birth
by Heather
Daley
This is Jonathan's
birth story, but to really appreciate it, the reader needs to know a
little about his big brother. Isaac was a surprise footling breech
at a planned homebirth. He did not breathe and was transported to
the hospital, where he died two days later.
When I got pregnant
three months after that, the big question was, "Where will this
baby be born?" Most family and friends assumed we had "learned
our lesson" and would go to the hospital. After much soul
searching, prayer, and continued research, we came to the same
conclusion we had before - homebirth is safest. What we really
wanted was another homebirth with our dear midwife. Sadly, that was
not to be. Our midwife was counseled not to contact us because the
county was investigating her involvement in Isaac's birth.
My family practitioner
agreed to do the initial prenatal visits while we decided what to do.
She was supportive of our choices, though of course wished we would
go to a hospital.
We consulted with
another direct entry midwife, whom I will call Mary. She would not
come to Allegheny County for a homebirth because the legal atmosphere
scared her, and no wonder. She has a lovely birth center which is an
hour and a half away from our house. She was happy to assist us if
we would come to her. We decided that is what we wanted to do.
We had people from all
over the world praying for Jonathan's birth. After our decisions had
been made, I was at peace about them. I trusted God to take care of
us and our baby, and I placed myself in His hands. Whenever I was
tempted to worry, I gave it to Him.
After much emotional
debating with my family, my mother did her own research and
understood why we felt as we did. She wrote an amazing essay as the culmination
of her discoveries.
Her change of
heart/understanding prompted me to invite her to the birth. She was
thrilled! She flew in a week before the due date. My Dad came
later, after the due date had passed. He had been laid off and was
looking for a job. When it was clear that he would not find one
before the birth, we told him he was welcome to come up whenever he
wanted. He thought he might as well hang around with us than stay at
home by himself. One advantage of having him come before the birth,
instead of after which was the original plan, was that he could take
over as driver. That was supposed to be Mom's job, but she was
relieved to move to navigator instead. When it comes to driving
under pressure, Dad excels.
Where appropriate, I
include my mother's reflections and observations about the labor and
birth, in italics.
On the morning of
November 18, 2003, about 1:45, I got up to go to the bathroom with a
rather gassy/crampy feeling. I wondered if it might be labor, but
decided it wasn't because I did not see any bloody show. When I went
back to bed, however, I really couldn't sleep because the hurting in
my abdomen kept me awake. Just before 3am, I went to the bathroom
again - this time there was bloody show.
So I woke Jon up, and
he called Mary, then I woke Mom and Dad up. The three of them got
the last-minute stuff together, while I concentrated on labor. I sat
on the toilet most of the time waiting, but not too much happened
there. I was a little shaky from nervousness and excitement.
We had prepared our
minivan ahead of time. We took out the middle seat so there would be
room to move around and for Jon to be able to take care of me. We
had a trashbag lined bucket for me to use as a toilet so we wouldn't
have to stop on the way and most importantly so I would not have to
think about holding it.
Time to go - I lay
down on the back seat and Jon buckled me in. He sat on the floor of
the car in front of me. Dad drove, Mom was navigator.
Mom tried to strike up
conversation, but I was too into it to respond very much. So most of
the ride was quiet.
When a contraction
came, I would breathe deeply, sort of hissing with the exhale, but
more like a "whoo" than a hiss.
Dad was driving really
fast. It's a good thing we aren't travelling on I-95, because it
seems that by the time we get to I-79, Porter is mis-reading the
route signs as speed limit signs... The landmarks on the way
(getting to 79, the rest area, taking the exit) came really soon -
sooner than I was expecting, so the ride seemed short to me.
At some point, the
contractions got where I had to add soft, low vocalizations to my
exhaling. (Mom said that scared her that we'd have the baby in the
car.)
Twice I had to get up
to pee in the bucket. Jon helped me get up and down, and the handle
on the back of the front passenger seat was handy for balance.
When we arrived at
the birth center, I headed straight for the toilet, and sat there a
while. The first thing I notice is how quiet and peaceful the
place is. I asked Mary to fill the tub for me. When it was
mostly ready, I climbed in. It was hard to find a good way to be in
the tub. The floaty thing that was supposed to pad the bottom
floated too much and was awkward. The hot and cold water came from
separate faucets so the hot was burning. Then I stepped on the drain
and the water drained all out. Jon covered the hot water with a
towel while it was refilling, but then the hot water heater emptied -
there was not enough hot water for filling the tub twice.
I never really got
comfortable in there, and then I felt a little pushy. So I got out,
and once again tried a bunch of positions, not liking any of them.
I could really feel
his head putting tons of pressure down there. I never had that with
Isaac and I wondered how in the world that big head was going to come
out. At that point I must have been in transition. I sympathized
with women who wanted c-sections - just get it out! ...by now she
is in transition, and decides she'd like to lie down. She tries
first one position, then another: back, side, hands-and-knees.
Eventually I lay sideways on the bed, which enabled me to completely
relax between contractions. I was tired, and I needed that rest.
Jon was always there,
doing things for me mostly without my asking, being the perfect labor
guy.
Mom held my leg up
because I felt when it was down it wouldn't let the head come out.
This gives me the best "seat" in the house.
It is all wonderful
to watch: Mary gently making suggestions, encouraging, supporting,
letting Heather take the lead; Heather working hard, concentrating,
following the suggestions, handling herself so well; Jon everywhere
just at the right time, holding her hand, supporting her back,
adjusting towels and pillows, knowing just what suggestion to speak
softly to her. Heather is in such good control.
I have only vague
recollection of the assistant, whom I'll call Anne, being there until
after he was born. Jon says she was helping Mary when she needed
things, getting washcloths, supplies, being always available.
Dad was in the
waiting/living room of the birth center, reading and praying.
Pushing was hard
again. I really had a handle on contractions, but pushing - I didn't
know what to do. Mary helped by saying breathe twice, then count to
7 while you push. Also, she pressed on my perineum and said "push
down here" and it helped me focus. I did not know exactly what
"push down here" meant, but I tried something and it
worked.
All through pushing
Mary had her hand in me, and it was quite annoying until the very
last. The only thing Dad heard from the waiting room was, "Do
you have to be in there?!" She said there was a lip that she
had to hold out of the way. When his head was really coming down, I
could feel that it helped to have her stretch my perineum.
It was a lot of work
pushing and I wasn't sure I could do it. When he was almost there, I
could feel his head coming back after the push and it was
discouraging. I complained about that and sent Jon worrying that the
cord was around the neck and not letting the baby come out.
Once again, the front
part hurt a lot (is that what they mean by the "ring of fire"?
But it wasn't a ring, just the front part by the pubic bone), but
this time I only said "it hurts" once.
Finally his head came
out, and that was a relief. His body came out pretty soon after, I
think, but it's hard to remember the details. At that point, it was
Mom doing the worrying about shoulder dystocia. None of these
worries were transferred to me, I did not know they were thinking
them until afterwards. For a second time, I had no tearing, praise
God! It was 6:20am. That's about 4 hours of labor. Pretty quick!
But just right.
They brought him right
to my chest and it was glorious! ...received into the most
welcoming arms and grateful faces you could ever imagine. He
took a little while to breathe (probably only a few seconds) but then
he did and all was fine. I touched him all over and kissed him and
exclaimed over him. It was a miracle to hold a squirming, live,
breathing baby in my arms.
He had hair - about
one inch long and dark! That was surprising. He didn't look like
Isaac at all.
All of our prayers
regarding his birth were answered with a "yes." Short but
not too short labor, not during rush hour, safe, healthy, beautiful
baby, perfectly formed. Praise God!
I reminded Mary that I
wanted to wait until the placenta was out before cutting the cord.
Somehow she didn't really understand the principle, because she
clamped it down near me after it stopped pulsating. She told me to
push one more time, it was annoying to have to think about the
placenta. She said "it's right at the door" and one more
push got it out. Gross stuff... But I didn't really pay attention.
At Heather's
signal, I open the door and shout triumphantly, "Come see your
grandson!" Porter appears in an instant.
Then everyone left the
three of us alone for an hour so we could have some family bonding
time.
The sun has arisen
in a glorious dawn over the farmland, and an Amish buggy clops along
down the road. The air is fresh and the wind soft and the
temperature unbelievably warm for the end of November.
I brought my baby
close to nurse. He was only interested in licking, but I knew we had
time to figure it out. Jon was concerned about it and that made our
bonding time a little stressful. I did not know how to say it would
be ok and he kept on insisting that we try some more. I just wanted
to hold my baby and enjoy him and not stress about breastfeeding. I
knew we'd get it sometime, and I wanted to be happy and not
technical. But other than that we had a nice time together enjoying
each other and thanking God. Anne makes us all breakfast, good
Amish eggs with ham and peaches and orange juice and toast. We
rejoin the happy family in open admiration of the beautiful boy.
Heather recovers amazingly quickly, due in part to a gentle,
uncomplicated, unmedicated delivery - and in large measure to the
remarkable healing power of joy.
They weighed and
measured him – 8 lbs 13 oz, 20.5 in. I think I went to the
bathroom while they did that.
I was happy just
sitting in bed with my baby, but we made preparations to go home,
because as Jon said, "might as well lie in bed at home than
here.” So we headed home about 11:30 am.
We did not name
Jonathan until that evening. We had been thinking (not too hard)
about Daniel or David, but nothing was sounding right. On the ride
home, I kept looking at him, wondering, "Who are you, my son?
What is your name?"
I had liked Jonathan
before, it means "gift from God" but I had dismissed it
because Jon had not wanted a Junior. Then Jon said to me "What
about Jonathan David?" I expressed surprise at that while
giving my affirmation, and he said, well the name just seemed right
and it would not be a Junior anyway because the middle names are
different. David means "beloved" or "dear one."
Then Jon dedicated him
to God, giving his fatherly blessing, "Jonathan David Daley, may
you seek God always and be a true friend."
Posted by
Heather Daley on
March 24, 2006, 11:39 am
| Read 5444 times
Category
Jonathan:
[
first]
[
previous]
[
next]
[
newest]