Birth Story: Chana M.
Baby’s Birth Date: December 27, 2004
Birthplace: Israel
In spite of all of my reading and research into birth and pregnancy, I neglected to notice the fact that contractions feel like (excuse me) GAS. I figured I would share that for those of you who have yet to experience or share the experience of labor. I share this because over half of my labor was spent with my thinking I simply had gas. From 6pm Saturday to 9am Sunday I was complaining to Dave that I must have eaten something that did not agree with me.
Finally, Dave says to me, “are you sure it’s gas?” I pick up “The Birth Book” by Dr. and RN Sears and throw it at Dave. He reads off the list of symptoms of labor and I’m nodding at each one, especially the first one which says “may feel like gas.” He jumps up and says, I think this is it! I tell him not to get so excited, “It’s just gas!”
We call my labor coach, an incredible, strong and mothering woman who happens to live around the corner. She asks me what I am feeling and tells me she is coming over. Dave is now really convinced that the time has come. He knows that it’s his job to boil water. He is driven by a power beyond him and leaps up the stairs to turn on the boiler.
The labor coach arrives and has me do this hula-hoop dance to help the contractions along. Contractions? So I’m in labor? It wasn’t gas? Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! She gives me a special acupressure massage to really get the labor going. She tells me to keep doing the hula-hoop dance and make sure I get food and rest.
It’s now 10am. My oldest friend arrives. “Chana’s in labor,” Dave shares with her as though he were telling her, “nice weather, eh?” My friend the dental student has now become my friend the labor assistant! It was fun. We get to chat it up with little breaks in between to do the hula. My midwife comes over (did I mention we planned a home birth with a midwife, who also did all my prenatal care AT HOME?) and checks me out. “We’re going to have a lot of work to do at 3am,” she says. She is the best. Perfect mix of Eastern medical wisdom mixed with Western precision tools. She tells me to have a couple of glasses of wine and get some rest because it’s going to be a long night and I haven’t slept in days between insomnia, back pain and oh yeah… GAS.
At 1pm we go out and get lunch. (I realize that the hula might look strange in public, so we bring it home). Lunch with a couple of glasses of wine on a Sunday afternoon. What could be better? So there I am doing the hula and feeling pretty good let me tell you. This is like a little birth party.
At 4pm I get to bed and sleep for a few hours. Every time a contraction comes I breathe through it and go back to sleep. I know I’m going to need this sleep. By 7pm the contractions have become intense enough that sleep is no longer an option. I call my labor coach and midwife. Time for the real work to begin.
8pm - I’m taking a bath and my labor coach is massaging my back to help relieve the pain. My midwife comes in the door with 4 suitcases worth of medical gear. This is no bunky, hippy home birth. This is professional stuff! Like a drill sergeant, she puts Dave and my friend to work. I’m taking my bath by candlelight as Yanni plays in the background. Our bedroom is filled with necessary gear, but also lots of yummy vanilla-scented candles (the same candles that my mom used to decorate the bridal suite during our wedding - I had saved them). Yanni and the candles set the tone for the next 8 hours.
At 9pm another friend comes over. She’s studying to be a birthing coach and wanted to know if I would let her observe her first birth. Sure! She joins the corps and is ready for duty. The rest of the night I’m coached to make different sounds as my back is getting massaged. I’m on all fours with my arms elevated above my waist to help gravity do its thing. My labor coach gives me this homeopathic powder to take every 30 seconds. I keep calling it cocaine. It’s white and powdery so why not have fun. I have that right. I’m a Colombian after all! My midwife gives me some shots (not the needle kind, the alcoholic kind) of some chinese herbal something or other she’s put together into a tincture that helps the birthing process move along. Who needs an epidural? Never even crossed my mind. Other than listening to the baby’s heartbeat by placing an ultrasound thingie on my belly, no funky tools are used during the process. Not during my birth!
Everyone is taking breaks to pray and even my midwife breaks off for a while to read psalms. Gotta love giving birth in Israel, a truly holy experience.
By 3am I’m at 8cm and, just as my midwife predicted, we’re approaching the finish line. At this point I’m standing with each arm around a friend’s shoulders. Each contraction I squat and literally sit on their knees. They are my birthing stones. It is a miraculously feminine experience. I am brought back to the times of my foremothers and know that birth is meant to be an experience welcomed by a community of women. And I feel blessed.
The rest is history. Thank G-d, only 15 minutes of pushing. Head, shoulders, knees, toes. The little baby is placed on my body to keep warm. It’s a boy! I had a dream the day we conceived that we were going to have a boy… that’s how we knew we were pregnant. Two weeks later I took the test and the little blue plus confirmed it. This little life on my belly is a confirmation on a whole other level!
He breastfeeds and Dave cuts the umbilical cord. I take a shower and the midwife checks to make sure I’m okay. My body is definitely in shock… birth does a job on a woman. But, thank G-d, I’m okay. Everyone is cleaning up and dressing the baby. He is weighed - 6 pounds. Our adorable, tiny little tyke. Love him already.
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