Bringing Ella

With Madeleine, I had an induced labor, with an epidural. There really was no reason to induce, other than it was my due date. All afternoon and night after Madeleine was born, nurses paraded through my room sticking my new baby and me with needles, waking us up to make sure one or the other of us had eaten, and subjecting us to a schedule that was not our own.

When I became pregnant with Ella, I told my husband, "I am not going back to the hospital." He was skeptical, but after a meeting with our dear midwives, Bonnie and Gail, Marc was more open to the idea of having a midwife provide our prenatal and post-natal care. He was cautiously accepting of the idea of a homebirth as well.

My care throughout my pregnancy with the midwives included all of the staples of a standard pre-natal visit to the OB/GYN. I took urine tests, weighed myself, had my blood pressure taken, the baby's heart tones were monitored. I had a sonogram at 24 weeks' gestation. The biggest difference between a midwife's prenatal care and my experience with the OB/GYN was the attention and education given to me. For example, in my visits to my OB/GYN when I was pregnant with Madeleine, she would ask, "Are you eating right?" I would say yes and that was it. In my visits to the midwife, special attention was paid to exactly what I was eating, how many grams of protein, how many ounces of water, how many carbohydrates. I learned that pregnant women should eat between 75-80 grams of protein a day. None of this was ever covered in my visits with my OB/GYN.

In preparation for a natural birth at home, I went into an intense training mode, of sorts. I started prenatal yoga classes and started reading natural childbirth books. I recited mantras to myself everyday. I meditated. I prayed.

In June, I had a dream that my baby would be born on Election Day. I told Bonnie at my next visit and she made a note on my chart.

By October, I was feeling very confident in my body's ability to birth at home and myself. I felt so connected to the baby growing inside me. I continued to have vivid dreams and felt spiritually connected to nature and the world around me. On Oct. 30, I started having contractions. Marc and I got Madeleine off to my in-laws house and prepared to give birth. We called the midwives, sat down to watch a football game, and waited. The contractions got as close as 10 minutes apart, lasting 45 seconds. We called and updated Bonnie. Then, out of nowhere they stopped.

We waited all afternoon for something to happen. I was frustrated. What happened? Was my body not going to work right? Was the baby okay? We left Madeleine at my in-laws that night in case contractions started again.

I had another dream that night. I was fast asleep when I felt a literal whisper in my ear. I believe it was God speaking to me. "This baby will come when it's good and ready. Today is not the day. I've already told you when this baby will come. Relax and enjoy your family." I dreamt that I had a check-up while the voice was speaking to me and at the check-up I was told the baby had changed positions, instead of it's head facing down, it was facing up, toward my belly-button.

I woke up in the morning with a renewed calm. I told Marc we could go get Madeleine, the baby would not be coming on Halloween, the official due date. We picked up Madeleine and had a wonderful day at home, making Halloween treats and trick-or-treating. (Madeleine was a bumblebee ballerina, by the way. She wore her bumblebee costume on her top half, and refused to take off the tutus she'd been playing in all day to change into her bumblebee bottoms.)

The next day, Monday, I had an appointment with Bonnie and Gail. Because of my dream, I was not surprised when Bonnie told me that the baby had turned around, it was now in a posterior position. She told me to go home and lay in a "Knees-chest" position, with my knees and chest on the floor and my butt up in the air, for 20 minutes at a time. I did this all afternoon. In between scrubbing my kitchen floors and cleaning spots out of my carpets. I went to bed that night knowing that the next day was Election Day.

On Tuesday, I woke up in a euphoric state. There is an episode of Friends, where Monica wakes up on her wedding day, runs into the living room and screams, "I'm getting married today!" Then, she slips and falls on her face. I really thought about skidding across my kitchen floor in my socks as I yelled at the top of my lungs, "I'm going to have a baby today!"

I called the midwives at 10:00, asking if I could come by to see if the baby had turned into the right position. I was going to go walk, and wanted to make sure that the baby was in position before I did so. (I didn't want the baby moving down into my pelvis further in the wrong position). Gail checked me and told me that yes, the baby was ready to go. Not only that, I was dialated to 4 centimeters. Early labor had started and I would probably go into active labor that afternoon.

I called Marc. I got Madeleine to my in-laws for round number 2. I went by Sears and picked up a few things I knew we would need. I came home and ate lunch and started watching CNN. It was Election Day, and all the commentary was a good distraction.

Around 1:00, I started having regular contractions. It was also around 1:00 that I decided I needed a project to focus my energy on. Marc would not be home until 3:30, he had a court appearance at 2:00. I called my mom and told her it was time. She was driving from Oklahoma, and it would take her about five hours to make it down. I wanted to bake my grandmother's cinnamon rolls for everyone to enjoy when the baby arrived.

I mixed the ingredients and kneaded the dough. This was an excellent birth project, I decided. Bread dough is a lot like labor. No bread dough is exactly alike. Letting the dough rise is like letting contractions take their course. Time passes. Humans wait. In dough and birth, we yield to nature.

I was kneading the dough a second time when Marc arrived home. Contractions were now about 8 minutes apart, lasting 55 seconds. About half an hour after he got home, they shortened to 5 minutes apart, lasting a minute. We called the midwives and told them to head our way.

Gail arrived at 4:30. Juanita, the apprentice came soon after, around 5:15. Bonnie came around 6:00, due to traffic. I was dialated to 6 when Gail arrived. We sat around the table and talked, and then moved into the kitchen as I continued the cinnamon roll baking process. I got the first batch in the oven and then things really started to pick up.

I sat on a birthing ball for awhile. Marc and I went to our room and had some quiet time to ourselves. Contractions were three minutes apart and lasting more than a minute. I decided I wanted to take a shower.

I was in the shower when I started to go into transition. Contractions started to come closer and closer together. I could no longer talk through them, I needed to breath and focus on my center. I rocked my hips. I prayed that God would give me strength, both mental and physical.

After the shower, I came back into the den. Marc rubbed my back with a rolling pin and I laid across a birthing ball, rocking as contractions continued to get closer and closer and last longer and longer. I moaned and tried to relax my whole body and not fight the contractions.

I had to pee. I got up and went into the bathroom when the urge to push hit me. I told Marc I needed to push. Remembering our previous birth experience, when hospital attendents TELL you what to do and when to do it, he told me, "No, not yet. It's not time. You'll hurt the baby."

I looked at him like he was crazy. I said, "Go get the midwives. It is time to push."

He went into the living room and said, "She says she needs to push."

Bonnie said, "Well, let her push." Bonnie, Gail, Juanita and Marc came into the room and helped me find a good pushing position. I pushed for awhile on my hands and knees before opting for my side.

Pushing was an intense physical experience. My thinking, analytical self took a break and my body took over. I didn't think about pushing or counting to 10. My body pushed when it needed to push. I focused on breathing. I sweat a lot. Halfway through the pushing, I realized I was covered in sweat. I tore off my shirt- the last bit of clothing remaining on my body, my attempt at clinging to modesty. To hell with modesty, I remember thinking briefly, before the inexplicable pull of pushing forced me back to a place within myself. I pushed. I heaved. I pushed.

I remember hearing the door open and my mom came into the house. I pushed. I heaved. I pushed again.

I remember feeling what must have been the so-called ring of fire, when the baby's head is crowning. I didn't realize at the time that's what it was- I thought I still had a lot of work to do. I remember thinking that if the pain got much worse, I wasn't sure if I could actually do it anymore. Right after that, a final urge to push came upon me. I felt the baby slide out of me and into Marc and Bonnie's arms. (it was a team catching effort). The baby came out screaming. There was no suctioning. No swatting. She screamed and screamed and screamed as Marc sat her on my stomach and I stroked the head of this wet, warm, pink seal-like human, seconds old.

I laughed. I cried. I did both at the same time.

"You are magic," Bonnie said to me. "You did fabulously."

The next hour passed quickly. I went to the bathroom. I was so excited to walk myself. (I couldn't do that after having Madeleine) The sheets were changed and the room cleaned up. We had to open a window, I had exerted so much energy, the room temperature went up and it was humid and hot in my bedroom.

My mom came in and brought me a plate of food. She had brought homeade pork-chops and potatoes from Oklahoma. Isn't that just like a mom? Hauling food across statelines! At somepoint, my dear in-laws came over and brough Madeleine home. She was sitting next to me, looking at her new sister.

As I ate, I held my newborn baby. My mom sat in a rocker, and my husband sat next to us. We named her Ella Danielle. She was born at 8:48 p.m.

When people ask me the difference between giving birth at home and giving birth in a hospital, I can sum it up in one word. Love. Love is the difference. My hospital birth felt sterile and numb. Madeleine emerged into a bright, cold room by way of gloved hands. Days later, I still felt like I had been to the dentist, but had the wrong end worked on.

When Ella was born, she was born into the loving hands of her father. Where I felt numb after Madeleine's birth, I felt alive and empowered after Ella's. That night, after we counted fingers and toes and kissed our sweet little Ella Bella and thanked God for our many blessings, our family snuggled into our warm bed and slept.

This is the story of her birth. I believe I have given her a wonderful gift. She was given a birth without interventions, a birth without a time clock. She will always know her mother's strength. Someday, I will tell her how we worked as a team even before she could speak. I will tell her this story. But for now, I hold her close and know that she is something special. I brought Ella to the world. Ella will bring the world something new.