by Ellie Tricker
My two births happened three years and two months apart. My
first child was a slow-moving son, and my second child was a daughter who
seemed to be in an enormous hurry. The details of my birth experiences differ
wildly.
Thaddeus was born slowly, quietly, and
privately. Ben and I labored all night long, moaning and dancing our way
through the bedroom, great room, and bathroom. My memory is of being mothered
through the process by Rachel, who comforted and consoled me at regular
intervals. I remember the feeling of her hands on my neck as I dozed
exhaustedly in the rocking chair in the pre-dawn hours. I remember her spoon
feeding me honey. She put her hands on my hips, teaching me how to sway from
side to side, as gracefully as a walrus (or so I felt) as I hung my arms
heavily around Ben's neck. Hours after we arrived to bring forth our first
child, another mother arrived. When the sounds of her baby carried through the
wall long before I had even dilated completely, I began to despair, but Rachel
consoled me with such love and tenderness that I was able to relax and refocus.
I am the sort of woman who tends to be in charge of everything and be totally
equipped. Therefore, it was alarming to be at the mercy of my body. I felt like
I was failing somehow, and Rachel imparted the necessary grace that I needed to
accept the birth journey I was on. She gave me exactly what I needed.
Penelope, in
contrast, has had an urgency about her since the moment she felt ready to
emerge from the womb! Although I was in early labor for an entire week with
her, once she got serious, nothing could stop her. We settled in for another
long labor, but only three hours after arriving at the Birth Center, Penelope
was in my arms. And while Ben and I had relished our quiet privacy the first
time, this felt more like a birth(day) party. Two of my friends met us there to
help care for Tad (who came with us) and to help document the event. We had a
fruit tray and told funny stories. Ironically, even with the noise and
celebratory atmosphere, I was able to focus more this second time around. I finally understood
what it meant to ride the wave of each contraction and to go deeper into my
body. I accomplished my goal of not actually pushing my daughter out at all,
instead letting the contractions do the work. Even so, the amount of time
between crowning and having Penny on my chest was only three minutes. Before I
got into the tub for the final bit of labor, I stood over the toilet and
suddenly felt chilled to the bone. I had been really present for the whole
labor, but suddenly I felt a wave of panic. I began to shiver uncontrollably
and Nancy (who had arrived an hour before) put her hands on my shoulders and
told me I was probably in transition. I hadn't really felt transition with
Tad's birth because the whole labor was so intense and painful that there was
no discernible difference. This was wild and somewhat terrifying! But when I
felt Nancy's hands on my shoulders, I felt a cooling sensation pass down
through my whole body. My eyes locked on hers and I remembered that I could do
this! Somehow I found myself back in the tub and, though I wanted to birth on
my hands and knees as I did before, I was instructed to lie down on my back to
slow baby down. This was so contrary to my ideas, but it turned out to be quite
helpful! Penny practically flew out, and just like in those magical stories,
once she was on my belly she slithered up to my breast of her own accord and
latched immediately. I think I tried to force Tad to nurse for several minutes
before I relaxed and gave up pressuring him. He finally nursed in the bed an
hour or so after he was born.
My births were so
similar in some ways. I was in the same room, both provided peaceful, joyful
memories. Patty was the midwife who met us at the Birth Center both times,
leaving us with the midwife on the next shift. Both times I received the
special type of coaching I needed, though the particulars of how each birth
played out were so different. The model of trusting women and their bodies
works so beautifully, because with varying circumstances, the outcome ends up
being the same. My joy was complete for both of my births, and I felt
supported, loved, and trusted.
I feel so
immensely grateful for the Birth Center, and particularly for Rachel, who gave
me the birth I dreamed of. I transferred to Fairhaven quite late in my first
pregnancy solely because Rachel was willing to spend quite a long time with me
both on the phone and in person to determine whether we could work together for
only a few short weeks. Because of my births, I began to trust my power, my
stamina, and indeed my true femininity in a way I could never have anticipated.
My births have taught me more about my deepest strength more than any other
experience I've ever had, and have opened me in a special way to conscious,
peaceful parenting. I really believe that peace on earth can begin with birth.
My safe, conscious, peaceful births helped me realize that my children were
active participants in their earth-side emergence. Beginning my parenting
journey in this way has helped launch me on a trajectory of respect, awareness,
and reverence for the full human beings my children are. Indeed, my births have
helped me respect myself more fully and to appreciate the ways my husband and
partner contributes to our lives as well. Giving birth at Goshen Birth Center
under the supervision and care of knowledgeable, compassionate midwives has
changed my life for the better in a real and meaningful way.
