Desmond's Birth Story

They say each childbirth is different for a mom. So true. Marlie's birth was stressful thanks to a cold midwife and last minute transport from the birthing center to the hospital. I still delivered her naturally, but the labor was traumatic in many ways I wouldn't process until later. I didn't know what to expect with my second as I prepared for the challenge of having a natural childbirth in a hospital again. It could not have gone more beautifully if I had scripted it myself. I'm thinking of writing a separate post on how I achieved a drug-free birth in a hospital, but for now, I'll focus on his birth story. I want to thank my birth coaches (Damon, Jenni, and Val) for their support and filling in the blanks...

It all started at 1:48 am on Sunday, April 1st. I was awakened by a contraction and immediately knew it wasn't of the Braxton Hicks variety. It wasn't painful, but it was definitely more than just pressure. I laid in bed to see what would happen. Two more contractions followed within the hour. I tapped Damon's shoulder and let him know that this could be it. He asked me what we should do. I told him we should probably go back to sleep because it could be awhile before things pick up. But I couldn't go back to sleep, so I went downstairs and watched TV while timing the contractions. By 5:00 am they were closer, about 10 minutes apart, but only lasting for 20 seconds. Marlie woke up to use the bathroom around this time, and I went up to help her then put her back to bed. She came downstairs an hour later and we snuggled on the couch. The contractions stopped. Just like that. I must have unconsciously sent a signal to my body that I had to take care of my little girl first.

Damon joined us downstairs shortly thereafter and started working on breakfast. I decided to go for a walk to see if I could get things moving. I wasn't crazy about the idea of delivering on April Fool's Day, but I knew better than to waste precious contractions. I didn't want to be in labor for days! I grabbed my iPod and headed out the door. On the way back I ran into my natural childbirth counselor. I told her I started having contractions earlier that morning, but they had stopped and I was trying to kick-start them again. She commented on how beautiful I looked walking. I really did feel beautiful and peaceful and confident, like I knew everything was going to work out. I arrived back home around 8:00 am, had breakfast and then this sudden urge to clean. I stripped the beds and washed the linens. I cleaned the bathroom. By noon the contractions started again. They were about 30 minutes apart and didn't interfere with my activities. They started getting closer around three in the afternoon, but weren't longer than 15-20 seconds. I remember getting annoyed at this point. I tried to take a nap, but was too riled up. As dinnertime approached, they started to feel more intense, closer, longer. I was sure we were cooking this time! I called my volunteer birth coaches Jenni and Val and told them to be on standby. Damon began getting Marlie ready for bed. I tried to remain calm and time the contractions. I willed each one to come quicker and last longer than 30 seconds. Jenni called around 8:00 pm to see what was going on. I was so disappointed to tell her that they were holding steady at 15 minutes apart and 30 seconds long and not going anywhere. She asked if I wanted them to come over and go for a walk. I declined. I was tired and fed up. I told her we should all go to bed and see if anything happened in the night.

I watched some TV, then headed upstairs. I took a shower and climbed into bed. The second I put my head to the pillow...BAM! The most powerful contraction I felt all day hit me. I told Damon to start timing and twelve minutes later another intense one. I told him I was going to call Jenni and Val if I had two more just like those and, sure enough, they came on strong at 30 seconds long about seven minutes apart. I placed the call to my birth coaches. They rushed over. I was bouncing on my birth ball watching Family Guy when they arrived. They immediately took charge. We sent Damon back to sleep and they got me started on walking laps around the ground floor, squatting through each contraction to open up my pelvic floor, breathing deeply and staying hydrated. The next two hours seemed to sweep by. Thanks to the workout, my contractions leaped forward. I was at 4-1-1 (contractions four minutes apart, lasting one minute each for at least an hour) in the blink of an eye. I said it was time to grab my birth bag and head out. We woke up Damon and I threw some last minute items into my bag. I called my OB who thankfully was on-call at Dallas Methodist Medical Center and said she'd meet me there. Jenni was staying to watch Marlie while Val followed behind our car. The drive over was less than five minutes, we arrived 10-15 minutes before midnight. I had two more contractions on the way to labor and delivery, one in the car and one on the elevator. I was taken from admitting by a sweet nurse who examined me (Damon and Val had to wait in the admitting area). I was 5 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced with a bulging bag! She said she had read my birth plan and was impressed. She also said she thought it was a great idea to labor at home as long as I did so I wouldn't be twiddling my thumbs at the hospital. I thanked her for being so supportive.

Damon and Val rejoined me, and I was transferred to a room in the Labor and Delivery wing. My labor nurse was equally kind and had also read my birth plan. She recited the top three: informed consent to all procedures, absolutely no drugs, and immediate skin-to-skin contact and nursing after my baby is born. It was my turn to be impressed! She said I had to take a shower with Hibiclens. I was not prepared for this. What is it with hospitals wanting to kill off all the germs? Some germs are good! I started to argue that I had already taken a shower than evening, but decided that some hot water on my back would actually feel nice. I jumped in the shower and used one of the packets of antibacterial soap to wash my body and nether regions being careful not to use too much to protect some of the flora. Then I removed the shower head and let the jet stream soothe my lower back. Suddenly, I felt a pop. I turned off the water, toweled off and stood still. Yep, my water broke and I was leaking. I quickly put on the hospital gown and came out of the bathroom announcing that my water broke. The nurse helped me into bed where I was nearly knocked over by a contraction. I could see the immediacy in her eyes. She grabbed her clipboard and started quizzing me on my medical history while another nurse ran my IV. At this point, the contractions are on top of each other and they want to know if I have diabetes?! Don't they have my records from my OB on file? Thankfully, my OB appeared at that moment. After some quick introductions and greetings, she checks me and I am 7 centimeters. Everyone continues to prep like it's going to be a little while longer, but the next contraction tells me otherwise. I could feel the baby drop into the birth canal. I tell all in the room that I am going to have to push soon, but my OB replies that I'm not even crowning yet. The next contraction sends me up on my hands and knees yelling, "I have to push!" I felt this urge to go to the bathroom. I tell them I have to make a bowel movement (what happens next is TMI so I'll move on). The next thing that happens is my OB gets behind me and exclaims that I am fully dilated (I had jumped from 7  to 10 cm in under five minutes). She asks if I am comfortable pushing in my current position and I shake my head yes. I stretch out like a cat and give one good push, then I collect my breath and push again. I hear my OB say, "the head is already out." That's my cue. I felt the "ring of fire" and pushed one more time. I felt a big release!

The next thing I hear is mewing. It was not like the great wails that Marlie cried. Then my baby is in my arms. "Here is your son," my OB says. It's 12: 47 am. Everything else fades to gray. It's just me and him. I am told later that there was lots of suctioning and massaging because he was a little limp. I don't remember that part. I just remember holding him to my bosom and getting him to latch. I was also told later that the umbilical cord was wrapped around my left leg and the nurse had to untangle it. I don't remember this either. The next thing I remember is my OB announcing that the cord had stopped pulsating and she clamped it and asked Damon if he wanted to cut it. He did. After that, my OB examined me. The placenta was sitting there, so I had to push it out. I also had a tear (again!) that needed repairing.  I refused Pitocin in my IV to help stop the bleeding so there was lots of uterine massaging and fundal pressure applied. I had to let go of Desmond so all this could get done. He went across the room to get measured and weighed (6 lbs and 11 oz, 20 inches. Bigger than Marlie, but not the 8-pounder I was anticipating). I sat in stirrups to get stitched up and drank some Red Raspberry Leaf Tea to help staunch the bleeding. My doctor gets paged for another delivery. I hug and thank her before she goes. After a couple of hours we are moved to a private room on the maternity ward.

The super awesome volunteer birth coaches.

Val had gone home by this time and it was just me, Damon and Desmond, for like a minute, then the endless parade of hospital staff started marching in. The nurse tells me that she will check on me and Desmond every two hours. She didn't say anything about the people in between...the lactation consultant, the photographer, the patient tech, housekeeping, food service, other administrative staff dropping off paperwork. They were all lovely people and very professional, but the interruptions were driving me batty. I wanted some sleep! So I started working on getting released that day. I was asked why the rush multiple times. Did I really have to explain the constant intrusions and no rest? After much lobbying and a sworn vow to the pediatrician that I would bring Desmond in first thing in the morning, we left the hospital that night and slept fitfully in our own beds.

My Childbirth Influences and Experience: From my Foremothers to Erykah Badu #blackbirth

Welcome to the First Edition of the Black Birth Carnival. Hosted by Darcel of The Mahogany Way Birth Cafe and Nicole of Musings From The Mind of Sista Midwife. Our first topic is Birthing While Black: A Historical Perspective. At the end of this post you will find a list of links to the other participants. Some of these posts may contain Emotional Triggers and will be labeled at the beginning of the post.

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My mother and her mother are from a small Caribbean island called Jamaica. Maybe you’ve heard of it. My grandmother gave birth to six live children at home in rural St. Elizabeth Parish. Her own mother or the village midwife assisted with each delivery. Doctors were expensive, far away, and only fetched for in cases of emergency. A woman in labor was not considered a medical condition in need of doctor care. My grandmother birthed six healthy children who grew up and had kids of their own. My mother was her fourth child. Mommy also gave birth to six live children, but in the United States. 
I am the oldest, born in the defunct Fordham Hospital in Bronx, NY. My sister after me was born in a Manhattan hospital and the rest of my siblings were all born in hospitals in Miami. 

I am more than a little curious to know how a family goes from midwife-assisted home birth to doctor-administered hospital birth in one generation. Immigration and assimilation are two obvious answers, but I think it goes deeper. In rural, impoverished Jamaica my grandmother had no choice. In America, where doctors are plentiful and easily accessible, even for the poor, I cannot imagine my grandmother encouraging my mother to deliver at home under the supervision of a midwife. It was a symbol of “moving on up” to give birth in a hospital, especially a private one. It’s what any old-school Jamaican woman from “de yard” would want for her daughter. 

Even in a hospital setting with all its medical technology and procedures available to her, my mother maintained an old-fashioned outlook on birth, particularly that it was a natural process that women’s body were built to perform. She eschewed epidurals and other medical interventions during all her births. All six of us were born naturally, promptly breastfed (for varying lengths of time), and raised with a natural parenting style. Growing up, I remember our meals were always home-cooked and heavy with fresh vegetables. There was never junk food in our cupboards and we didn’t eat fast food except on rare occasions. My mom kept an arsenal of homeopathic remedies to treat every childhood ailment from whooping cough to ringworm. We only went to the doctor for our annual check-up and received the minimum required vaccines to attend school. Chickenpox was considered a childhood rite of passage. 

When I became pregnant with my first child, I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my foremothers and continue the tradition of natural birth and parenting. So I was beyond surprised by mommy’s and grandma’s reaction to my birth choices. On my decision to give birth naturally at a birthing center with a midwife…“Is that going to be safe? What happens if something goes wrong?” On my decision to breastfeed past six months…“you should add formula so you can get a break.” On my decision to cloth diaper…“why do you want to create more work for yourself?” 

I chalked up the rude questions and comments to maternal concern. No mother wants to see her daughter in pain or suffering. I forged ahead with my birth plan, which wasn’t executed according to my vision but achieved the desired outcome. During the first 10 hours I was in labor I kept picturing my grandmother squatting in her bedroom and pushing out six babies. Surely, I could do it at least once! When it was time to push I wanted to squat too, but my midwife, a former nurse, insisted I lie on my back and lean forward. She didn’t respect my instincts and she certainly didn’t understand my need to spiritually connect with my roots. After several attempts to do it her way, I was transported to a hospital at the 11th hour because my baby girl was in distress. When I arrived I was greeted by a black, female obstetrician who took my hand and said, “let’s go get your baby.” A sense of peace washed over me as she led me to the labor and delivery room. Inside, a squadron of nurses were busily preparing trays of medical tools and the feeling of dread returned. The OB examined me, said my baby needed to be turned, and politely asked if I would like an epidural.” I honestly wavered for a minute, bust said no. The OB reached in and gave my baby a quarter turn, and my daughter arrived two pushes later. It hurt like hell, but I’d do it all over again to bring her into this world 100% au natural. The pain quickly evaporated in the euphoria of holding my daughter and nursing her for the first time. 

I have never discussed my first birth experience from a racial perspective. I’m not saying that the white midwife was incapable of delivering black babies, but she was culturally incompetent. For example, when she asked to touch my natural hair during an appointment or when she chastised my pregnancy smallness with the comment that, “black women usually don’t have a problem gaining weight,” it put a divide in our relationship and hung a cloud of suspicion in my mind. I think I carried these misgivings into my labor on a subconscious level. Could I have said something? Yes, but it’s not my job to point out her racial insensitivity or reprogram her ignorance. A more aware professional would have recognized what a huge milestone natural childbirth was for a black woman in today’s society. She would have embraced my color by recommending books for me to read or sharing copies of articles by black midwives. After all, among the small percentage of women who are opting for natural childbirth in this country, black women are an even smaller, um, minority. 

Overall, I am filled with pride when I recall my birth story. I feel like I have drawn another notch on my maternal lineage and brought my heritage full circle. I can’t help but think about the black women during slavery who gave birth in cotton fields without pain meds, slung their newborns on their backs and kept picking or the mammies who nursed their master’s children. I wholeheartedly believe their spirit and strength is in the blood of every modern black woman. Natural childbirth and breastfeeding is a part of our history that we should embrace. Too many of us are surrendering our bodies and babies to modern science (formula), miseducation (a hospital is the only safe place to give birth), and myths (breastfeeding spoils babies). I am all for a woman choosing to give birth and raise her child the way she sees fit as long as she is making an informed decision. I applaud midwives and doulas like Erykah Badu who are reaching out to the African-American community and providing real birth education and offering alternative birth options.

I am currently preparing for the birth of my second child any day now and my first prayer is to deliver a healthy baby, but a close second prayer is for another natural birth.
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Please take time to read the other submissions for the Black Birth Carnival. These are very touching, thought-provoking posts

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Nicole - Musings From The Mind of Sista Midwife: Our History Does Not Have To Be Our Future Darcel - The Mahogany Way Birth Cafe: What Happened To Our Strength? Takiema - Connect Formation Consulting: Black & Still Birthing - A Deeply Personal Post Teresha - Marlie and Me: My Childbirth Influences and Experiences: From my Foremothers to Erykah Badu Denene - My Brown Baby: Birthing While Black In The Jim Crow South Stole My Grandmother: Thankfully, Things Change Olivia - The Student Midwife: Birthing While Black: A Historical Perspective of Black Midwives Chante - My Natural Motherhood Journey: Homebirth Stories

Labor Day: Marlie's Birth Story Part II

...continued from Labor Day: Marlie's Birth Story Part I

I get in the birthing pool to ease the pain and pressure, but the water also has the affect of stalling my contractions. I get out after an hour in the pool. No water birth for me, but it's okay. I knew better than to have my heart set on any one delivery method. I get in the bed to finish laboring, but I am dehydrated. The midwife and Damon offer me Gatorade, which I hate. I drink it at their insistence and proceed to throw up. On the plus side, the spasms get labor going again. I also get an IV. The next few hours are blurry, but this is what I recall:

• Around 9 pm the midwife examines me and announces I am almost fully dilated...just a little more
• Around 11: 30 pm it's time to push. Seriously?! I am exhausted!!! For the next two hours I try to push Marlie out, but she won't budge. Something is wrong! Every time I push hard, her heart rate drops precipitously low. The midwife and birthing assistant try to get her into position by massaging my womb. It doesn't work. The midwife tells Damon that the baby is in distress and we need to be transported to the hospital. My heart sinks.
• We pack up and head to the hospital, which is only a block away. I ride with the midwife while Damon follows behind in the car. On the way, the midwife is consoling me. She tells me that the OB will try to perform a vaginal birth, that she might offer me an epidural, that I should take it because I am exhausted and it will help me. I start to cry. I feel defeated because I believe an epidural will lead to a Cesarean and end my dreams of a natural birth.
• We arrive at the hospital a round 1:30 am and the staff, already alerted to the situation, takes me into the delivery room where Dr. L performs a vaginal exam and says that the baby is mal-positioned and has the cord wrapped around her neck. She will have to reach in and rotate her, but it's going to hurt a lot. She asks me if I want an epidural or do I want to tough it out. I lean back to think, but Dr. L takes my hesitation as a sign to start turning the baby. I scream bloody murder! She asks again if I want an epidural or if I can handle more of that kind of pain. I respond that I need to push. She tells me to go for it and, with two nurses holding each arm, I push hard. Damon yells that he can see her head crowning. My midwife grabs my hand and has me touch the top of my baby girl's head. This gives me a second wind. Someone asks if I can push again. I close my eyes, ask God for strength, brace myself and push with all my might...
• My daughter is born at 1:46 am on August 15th. She comes out kicking and crying...6 lbs, 1 oz. and 19 inches of God's amazing grace! She is handed to me for skin-to-skin contact and she latched on right away. She nurses while Dr. L sutures me (yep, I tore...right down the middle).

Things didn't go exactly according to plan, but we got our happy ending...a healthy baby and a natural birth! Later than morning, I awoke to Damon playing Marlie's Mix, a playlist of songs that we compiled to celebrate her birth. I sat up in the bed, took my daughter in my arms, and listened to each song. I remembered why I chose each song and was amazed how they all fit so perfectly. I added the playlist to the blog under the About Us section. Take a listen!

Labor Day: Marlie's Birth Story Part I

This post is overdue, but I hope you agree it is wort the wait. I spent a lot of time tweaking it as my memories of that day came back. You'd be surprised how much you forget when you are nearly passed out from labor pains. When I finally finished the narrative, I realized it was way too long for a blog post. So I have divided it into two parts. Be sure to subscribe to the blog to get the rest of the story. It's a doozie! Without further adieu, here is Marlie's birth story. It starts with dancing and ends in music...

It's the morning of August 14, and I am tired. Marlie kept me up the night before doing acrobatics in the womb. As I sat at the dining table with my mother-in-law, I remember thinking today would be a bad day to go into labor because I was so tired. My MIL suggests I go take a nap and I agree, but first I have an urge to dance! I go into the family room and turn on the Hip Hop channel on the TV. Eve's I Gotta Man is playing and I start droppin' it like it's hot! Afterward, I turn to go upstairs when I feel a wetness, then a trickle run down my left leg. I call out to my MIL, "I think my water is breaking!" She feels my leg and confirms it. I go into project management mode. I call the birth center and I am told to get ready and call in an hour with an update. I tell my MIL to call her son while I go shower and get ready. Today is labor day!
I shower and dress in the nightgown that I bought especially for today. It is lime green and looks like a summer dress. I go back downstairs and ask my MIL if she reached Damon. "No," is her reply. No?! "I called him ten times and he's not answering his cell phone," she says. I don't panic because I remember that we agreed that I would text him when it was time in case he was in a meeting and couldn't have his ringer on or answer his phone. I send a text. We sit and wait for him to call. Minutes creep by with no response so I call his desk...no answer. Okay, I am getting pissed. I go into the next room so my MIL doesn't see my frustration (she is a worrier like me). She follows me into the room and I can tell something isn't right when I look at her. Her right eye is all red and watery. She got so anxious that her blood pressure elevated, and she blew a blood vessel in her eye! I realize that the two us could wind up and the hospital if I don't act fast. I call the operator at my husband's company and explain the situation. They transfer me to security. I tell the nice man that my husband works there, I am in labor, and I can't reach him. He laughs and tells me he is on the case. I feel better already. Ten minutes later Damon calls. He is already in the car. I hold back the blue streak of curse words I had prepared to shout and just tell to drive safely. This is my first birth, so I know we have time, plus I need to stay calm and relaxed.


By the time Damon gets home, it's been and hour and a half since my water started to break. It continues to come in squirts and my contractions are far apart and mild. I call the birthing center to give an update. The midwife can tell that I am still in the very early stages of labor because I am so perky. She suggests I go walk for an hour and call back. Meanwhile, Damon is running around the house. I ask him what he is doing. He is searching for his cell phone, which he finally finds in the car! I also let this blunder slide because I am in the zone. We go outside to walk around the block, but come back after a few minutes due to the intense Texas heat. We decide to drive to Target near the birthing center to walk. After an hour, I am bored and even more tired. We head to Whole Foods hoping to benefit from air conditioning and free samples. Thirty minutes later I am ready to get this show on the road. We call the midwife who tells us to come in for me to get examined. We arrive a little after 4 pm and I am just 4 cm dilated. We must get labor progressing, so I start walking a circuit around the first floor and do pelvic squats every five laps for the next hour and a half. It works! The contractions are stronger and closer together. I have reached active labor!

To be continued...