After 25 hours of
labor, Beatrice Popin was born on Sunday July 7th, 2013 at 6:56PM,
weighing 7 pounds 5 ounces.
Note: a “J” {James} at the top of a paragraph indicates a
side note, an “inside scoop” or a comment from James about the Birth Story. Otherwise,
this story is as told by me, Margaret.
*Deep breath—Here we go…
It is the evening of July 3rd in Provo,
Utah. The streets are alive with the
sounds of poppers, fireworks and whistles as people celebrate and wait for the
big Independence Day parade that is to happen the next morning.
I love holidays and enjoy dressing up and going out for
them. My blue hair fits in perfectly for Independence Day! Somewhat of a side
note: speaking of blue hair {to answer the many people who ask about it},
blue/green was Beatrice’s birthing color, the color I saw and used for my
birthing visualizations. Dying a part of me blue helped me embrace and
celebrate bringing my baby here, and it still holds deep meaning to me. It will
be difficult getting rid of it when the time comes.
James, some friends and me decide to take a walk to check
out the festivities and purchase some poppers for our enjoyment. Some kids are playing
soccer on the sidewalk. I watch as {as if in slow motion} the soccer ball makes
it’s way towards me. I step on it, trip and fall on my right knee. I feel a
large jolt in my stomach as the impact takes over the rest of my body. The
supposed adult supervisor apologizes and then makes the comment, “well, you may
get to see your baby sooner now, eh?” Yeah…eh. Thanks, lady. I brush it off and
continue to enjoy the rest of my evening {although I am now aching and scared
to look at the damage on my knee}.
It’s 7:00AM in the morning and I wake up to some tightening in
my lower back. It goes away and I doze off again only to wake to another
tightening {probably about fifteen minutes later}. Next time it’s in ten
minutes. Next, in five. By this point my heart is racing with excitement and some
fear. I text James at work at 9:18AM,
“So, I’ve been having waves consistently since 7…{they’ve been} sporadic though
I haven’t gone ten min without having one. I try to go back to sleep but they
wake me up. But I keep trying cause I tired. Love you. The journey begins.”
Around 1:00PM James comes home from work and we take it easy
until our midwife arrives to check on me {my waves were still no longer then
ten minutes apart}. She arrives and asks if she can “check” me for progress. As
part of my birthing plan, I really don’t want any vaginal exams for the
entirety of my labor, but sometimes I’m a pushover, so I comply. So, she tries,
but it’s too painful and eventually she just gives up {thankfully for me}.
Apparently baby’s head is sitting so low that one would have to work around the
head to reach the cervix. Yeah. No thanks. But now I begin to really worry for
what lies ahead because of how poorly I had handled the exam, but words from
other natural-birthing mothers comforted me in this regard. The midwife
recommends I get a chiropractic adjustment to fix what might have been screwed
up by last night’s fall.
The feeling of the waves {felt only in my lower back and
legs the whole time} grows slowly more and more intense and sharp so that by
nightfall, I worry about how I am to handle the intensity. James and I enjoy
the Stadium of Fire fireworks and try to enjoy the holiday. I pray for sleep this
night so I can feel more prepared, but it doesn’t come. Lying down through a
wave, for me, is SIGNIFICANTLY more powerful then when standing or sitting, so
I resort to rocking on the birth ball.
Friday morning {the 5th} comes around and things
are still in motion. However, throughout the afternoon, the waves become more
separated {about a ½ hour apart}. I become hopeful that things will stop until
next week {the 13th is her guess date} so that my mom can be with
me. I really want her there because, well, she’s my mom, but also because she
had her seven children naturally. My mom and I are similar in many respects,
so, on top of everything else, her words of advice and comfort would have been
invaluable to me {or a hug, or the touch of her healing hands, at that}.
It is just James and I today. Nobody else. No visitors. Just
a day for us to bond, be reflective and be best friends. I cannot find the
right words to express how gentle, loving and courageous James was throughout
this whole experience. He really is the hero of this story. I would not have
made it without his persistent display of love and selflessness. We also hit
the chiropractor’s office to get my much-needed adjustment {halleluiah}. The
night comes and my waves come back in full force and close together, and
another sleepless night goes by...
Saturday morning {the 6th} rolls around, and I am
SO VERY TIRED. I now start to understand the “running a marathon” analogy.
WOOF. And I’m not even close to the finish line. James is at work today, and I
am left alone for a little while to handle my waves. Around one in the
afternoon, my brother stops by, and stays with me until the midwife arrives
with the birthing tub. He helps her clean and set it up for me. Midwife then
leaves until later that night.
James brings home my favorite Thai dish for dinner,
pad-kee-mau. My waves are getting greater. The midwife sends one of her assistants
over to hang out with us, and she arrives around 8:00 PM {or, whenever it got
dark}. We hang out and talk and she helps James out with pressure points {it
feels really good to have someone pressing on my knees to relieve back pressure,
though, because of my badly cut-up and bruised knee, they have to work around
it…darned knee!!!}. Midwife had told her assistant to try checking my progress.
The assistant is of a more gentle nature, so, I’m thinking I might be a little
more comfortable, and therefore less clenched. She is able to perform the exam
somewhat successfully {she is new, so she isn’t quite sure about the accuracy
of her judgment} and thinks I am close to 5 centimeters. This news pleases me
immensely {for I am expecting the worst} and I have James and the assistant
fill up the tub so I can labor in it. It is now around 10:00PM. Mother Popin
comes with snacks shortly after they begin getting the tub ready, and midwife
follows shortly after her. The first thing midwife says upon entering our apartment
is “bless you for smiling during this time!” {I had said “hello!” with a smile
on my face}. We now have our completed birthing party.
I get in the tub around 11:00PM. The feeling of the water is
soothing. I’ve been in active labor since approximately 6:00PM. Concentration
and someone pressing on my knees are an absolute must. The assistant and mother
Popin convince James to take a well-deserved nap. I am sad to let him go but
know he needs the rest so he can be prepared for what lay ahead of him. Around
2:00AM I ask from the assistant to wake James. James and I are a team once
again and I feel a lot better with him there.
J. At
some point in the early morning hours (3 or 4?) the other assistant showed up.
From the tub, Margaret’s reaction to the knock on the door was, “no visitors,
please.”
Around 4:00AM midwife asks to
check me. I let her perform the oh-so-painful exam, and we find out I am only
barely at a 6. The mood drops at this news. I am disappointed, but too tired
and focused to really care. I feel badly for everyone else, mostly {especially
the baby}. Midwife tells everyone to rest up, and at this point I am being very
vocal as each wave passes through me.
A thunderstorm welcomes the rising, Sunday sun,
appropriately accompanying my loud cries. The bright, golden sunlight slowly
creeps into the room and I imagine a dewy, white-golden rose blossoming. These
real and imagined visuals are changing me, as well as the labor. I am feeling
my body change quickly now. Mother Popin relays some gathered words of
encouragement from Grandparents and my family, and hearing these words comforts
me greatly.
Around 10:00AM I know my body is ready to bring my Baby girl
out. But, sadly that’s not what happens in this moment.
After about an hour of fruitless “pushing” we discover I am
keeping my pelvic floor clenched. Melody starts massaging my perineum in hopes
that I loosen up. I cry out and beg her to stop. She has James replace her and
he takes over the massage. This is where I lost it:
Me: JAMES STOP. PLEASE STOP!!
Midwife: {to James} She needs to soften down there if she
wants to deliver this baby gently.
Me: PLEASE OH PLEASE STOP!!!
James: {fighting tears} Margaret, I love you! This will help
you! I love you, Margaret!
Me: STOP STOP STOP!!!
Midwife: Margaret—has someone hurt you?
Me: …no…I just feel so helpless and not in charge!
Midwife: I will not force you to do anything you don’t want
to do {she had a hurt look on her face}.
“What is WRONG with me?” I think to myself. Is there
something hidden deep inside me that has yet to be resolved? Get a grip, lady!
The midwife sends James and I to our room to talk it out.
But we are both too fatigued to come up with any good answers, so we kiss and I
tell him I’m ready to try to let baby out again.
We go back out to the living room and I ask to get back into
the tub {I had gotten out to push and get the perineum massage}. By now the
water is cold and I start shivering violently. Levels of discomfort are insane
by now, and I am delirious. People start dumping pots of hot water in the pool.
Before we start actively pushing, I ask James to get into the tub with me to
help me work through some waves. We are alone in the living room. I have him breathe and cry-out with me during the surges
and I build momentum and more familiarity with my body through this practice.
J. As
we faced each other in the tub I applied counter pressure on her knees.
Eventually I noticed my hands were stuck in the knee-holding position. As I
tried some hand stretches they would jump back to their old position. Despite
this I think we both felt invigorated. There was plenty of energy and the labor
was intense. We screamed in the tub and kept going. Eventually the midwife brought
in some pear flavored coconut water. As I sipped it I exclaimed that it was the
sweetest nectar I had ever tasted.
We
now start trying many pushing positions, and the one where I feel the most
progress {besides the birthing stool} involves me putting one leg up on the
side of the pool, wrapping my arms around James’ neck and having him guide me down
as I bear-down with each wave. This was quite the workout for both of us.
J. This position is intimate and we felt like it
helped. The first time it felt great for me. The second time was also good but
I found myself asking in my head, “I wonder how many times I will have to lower
us like this.” I gave it my all. I decided to have faith and just give all my
power to these aqua squats. I thought to myself, Margaret is giving all she
has—and now I can too. This was the hardest I worked during our birth
experience. And it was hard. I thought, this is not just Margaret having a baby, it
is US having a baby and I felt for a second that I understood her pain and her work.
I felt empathetic. I screamed just like she did during her most intense moments
as I tried not to collapse down into the my-yeem. Upon reflection I think my
attempts at empathy were not only sincere, but inflamed. They
represent but a small taste of the feminine experience.
It is now roughly 4:00PM and we are out of the pool again to
regroup as a couple. It is too uncomfortable to do anything else but bend over
the couch on my knees {darn my bruised knee!!!!} so that’s what we do. We are
still alone in the room.
Me: {panting in between each word, and much too tired to
cry} I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
James: I love you, Margaret. You are doing amazingly.
Me: I just don’t want to get an episiotomy. I’d almost
rather go to the hospital than get cut. Should we do it? Maybe we should do
that… I don’t know. I don’t know.
James: Whatever you want.
Me: I just don’t know how I’m going to get passed this, and
I’m worried about baby.
James: Baby has been strong this entire time. She is strong.
Me: I just want her here!
James: …
J. In my mind I questioned if our dreams of a home birth would actually come to fruition. I
remembered a large group of people in California fasting for us.
Me: K. I’m going to try again.
And I MEAN IT. I am on the brink of what feels like death,
and I have had enough. Whatever it is that needs processing and/or healing can
wait to be figured out later, because Baby has waited long enough! IT.IS.TIME.
With a mighty fire in my bosom and a sudden BURST of adrenaline, I start
pushing with all my might with each and every wave. I am moved from bending
over the couch to the birthing stool. Midwife sat behind me so I could use her
as a boost, and James and the assistant sat in front of me to speak words of
encouragement.
J. We
kept going for some time. I really hoped that it would just happen already. It
did not seem like it would, because it was just more of the same pushing that
we had been doing since early in the morning. Then, just when we were not sure
how it would end, the head came into view.
Midwife places a mirror in front of me so I can watch the
progress and therefore feel encouraged. But I don’t look because I feel it
would distract me. Instead, I look up at the heavens and plead with God to hold
my hand. That, he does. Every push is definitely bringing Baby closer and
closer, I feel her! “I LOVE YOU BABYYYY,” I am crying out with each wave.
J. The midwife gave me instructions that when she comes out to keep any fluid from
getting in her nose and to mind the cord. More of the head came into view and
the assistant said, “she is coming.”
Then, the moment I feared the most is happening. The widest
part of Baby’s head is passing through {ring of fire}. I cry out, “ahhhggh that
HURTS!” to which my midwife replies, “It doesn’t matter! You’re about to see
your baby!” That response quickly shuts up my complaining as I realize that in
this moment it truly is all about the health of Baby. I’m going to be FINE.
After Baby’s head comes out {with both her hands covering
her ears} the rest of her flies out with it! She had been crying when James
catches her and she is placed immediately into my arms. She immediately stops
crying, and a new wave of belonging and commitment rushes over the both of us.
This is the most powerful and literal sensation felt yet. I look down and she
is staring at me. I lose my breath as I see the galaxies, a family of spirits,
patience, perseverance and the most guileless form of love I ever did see.
J. Before the birth I felt I needed practice at being a doula. I meant to practice the last week but as we have seen, the baby had other plans. Once labor started and I was thrown into an active role I no longer felt unprepared. Contrary, I felt comfortable and confident, as if I had done this sort of thing before. At the beginning of our pregnancy it was whispered to us that this change in our lives was timely and heaven sent.
A week later she is given the name Beatrice, which is latin name meaning “saintly voyager”. And that she was and continues to be, and we love her with
all that we have and much more.
Details about after birth/recovery:
I required stitches for my 1st degree tears and
grazes, and didn’t need a catheter. I hemorrhaged {lost about 4 cups of blood} and
suffered through a bimanual uterine compression massage to stop the bleeding. I
also had some retained placenta that has since expelled itself. I am now doing MARVELOUSLY! This experience was the most beautiful, spiritual and empowering experience in my life, and i definitely plan on doing it again.
