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Powered by LifeTypeJonathan'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."