It was dark and oxytocin flooded my body.
Candles lit the space and, later, my partner would thoughtfully turn on my favorite music - a non-traditional Christmas album by Josh Garrels - about the joyous birth of Jesus even though it was only mid-September.
I swayed on my trusty birth ball as my contractions intensified. First, inviting my sweet baby to be born, then later, bargaining with my body, my baby, and this birth. My heart flooded with insecurities.
Would I have enough love in my heart to embrace a baby? Much less a FOUTH baby? Would I have enough time, energy, money, etc to show up for him?
Would I truly BE enough?
.The midwife was called but I still wasn't sure - for fear of being wrong - and I told her so. There had been prodromal labor for almost a month prior. She assured me that she was on her way but I was still not sure she would make it. Despite being scared I could be wrong, I could also feel that my baby was coming quickly, just as my other babies had in the past.
Following my instinct, I slid into the birth pool. I felt like a caged and wild animal. I knew at this point there was no way out except through... I wanted to push but the midwife hadn't yet arrived so I held back.
Hanging over the edge of the pool, the urge became so strong, I couldn't prevent it any longer. With my first push, the midwife emerged through my bedroom door.
My other babies came easily with just two or three pushes so when my sweet little baby wasn't born after a few, I started to worry. Moving in the tub, I could not find a position that brought baby down. I didn't feel him getting any lower with each push.
I could feel the muscular tension building in my hips, especially the left piriformis seizing up, the energy being wasted on FEAR - an emotional tension pattern I've long recognized and thought I had completely resolved. But, there it was, rearing is ugly head.
From hanging over the edge of the pool, on my knees, I lifted my left leg to make more space for my baby to come through and very intentionally released the spasms. The pushes were becoming more and more intense.
“Once your water breaks, baby will be born quick. Would you like me to break you water?” she asked. NO! Don't touch me. I need to do this alone. I think we were both scared.
Pushing, pushing, pushing. Howling like a wolf. With each contraction, I optimized my energy. It took almost two hours.
Suddenly, a gush of water. I felt my baby's head drop dramatically into the birth canal.
One push, his head emerged. I reached down to guide him because I felt the stretching of my perineum and didn't want to have any tearing. Next push, for his shoulders and he slid out between my legs and into his father's arms.
Later, examining the placenta, it was discovered that my baby's membranes were very thick, strong. It took a lot of strength, courage, and mental energy to break his waters.
And, I did that.
It was a relief to me that even if it wasn't gentle on my end, it only took HIM two pushes to come into the world.
Great story, you might say. But, what's the point?
Good question. My birth story is textured and layered. This is but one layer I'm offering to you.
Yours will be textured and layered, too, naturally.
I offer you this story to illustrate what being deeply aware of your body can offer during labor and birth.
In my practice as a prenatal massage therapist, I have the privilege of helping birthing clients discover the awesome power of their own bodies.
Tapping into the primal intelligence of your body is the meaningful work I facilitate.
Purchasing a package of sessions or massage membership helps you to save money, energy, and pain while giving you the freedom to prepare to bring new life into being.