This Is Not An Orgasmic Birth Story

It has been two weeks since the birth of Raven Starr Rockwell.  Two weeks seems like 2 hours, seems like 2 years, seems like I never lived before.  I can’t hardly remember being pregnant and I figured I better write my birth story before I am tempted to sanitize it.  I had all the best intentions.  I listened to hypnosis CD’s, I had a midwife and a water birth plan.  I had tackled huge life issues and surrendered over and over again.  I listened to the women in my family tell me that transition was the hardest part, that it doesn’t last that long, and that after about 10 minutes of pushing, the baby would be born. I visualized easy.  I visualized smooth.

There were some signs I refused to pay attention too.  My anxiety for one.  The anxiety that had been with me since the moment I found out I was pregnant.  The anxiety I pushed down, pushed away, and told myself I was too strong to make that real.  There are many things that are too detailed to explain here, as this is a blog not a book.  I will say however, that there was not a day that went by in my pregnancy where something did not come up for me to examine, question or heal.  My Aunt Nancy, a wise and wonderful midwife, sent me a message stating “your pregnancy prepares you for your birth, and your birth prepares you for the mother you will be”.  I should have know right then that it wasn’t going to be easy.

I thought I was due on the tenth of December.  There were signs, and then there weren’t.  There was panic and question and worry about inducing.  I really couldn’t believe that my baby would ever come.  On December 31st at 2:30 am, she finally signaled her arrival.  From the start, my contractions were one minute apart.  The intensity was tolerable, but I was well aware I was not easing into this.  The only position I could manage was on my hands and knees.  I needed Myles by 3:30.  He started timing.  Some of my contractions were already longer than a minute.  We called my midwife not long after.  It seemed like forever until she arrived. By that time I was in the bathtub.  Soon after she arrived I puked for the first time in many.  She remarked that I was fully in labor.  I had to agree.  I think it was 7 am.  All I can say is that time stands still….it doesn’t seem fast and it doesn’t seem slow.  It is just the only thing there is.  For the first time in my life, my thoughts did not exist.  Breath, convulse, puke, shit, cry, 50 second break.  Repeat.  For 11 hours.

I was stuck between 6 and 7 centimeters for most of my labor.  Transition is meant to be transitioned through.  I was in purgatory.  Myles would say later that it was like watching an exorcism.  At around 1pm I demanded that I be taken to the hospital. I could not imagine any more hours stuck at 7 centimeters, heaving up my insides and getting nowhere.  I wanted to be done.  I wanted an epidural.  I wanted to end the crawling on the bathroom floor unable to make it to the toilet.  I had given up.  My midwife broke my water in the attempt to speed things alone.  I wasn’t waiting to find out.  Myles picked up some dirty clothes from my closet floor and my toothbrush.  I hadn’t bothered to pack a bag.

My midwife called the hospital and they had one birthing room left. Room number 7.  Not that funny at the time.  I had to ride facing the passenger seat so I could stay in my hands and knees position.  That ride did seem like an eternity.  It was :15 minutes.  We pulled up to the emergency entrance of the birthing center and I fell out of the car straight to my hands and knees.  I started crawling to the door.  I shook my head “no” when someone offered a wheelchair.  I tried to stand up at the desk but immediately fell back to the floor.  Crying and begging for an epidural.  Myles and two nurses dragged me off the floor and put me screaming into a wheelchair.  Soon I was in room number 7, still demanding an epidural.  I was leaning over Myles’ back on the bed.  The nurse looked at me and said “sweetie, do you feel like you have to push?”  I looked at her like she was fucking crazy.  She checked me. I was at 10 centimeters.  No epidural needed, it was time to push.

At first I thought I was almost done.  Very soon I realized that the finish line was nowhere near.  Two liters of saline was inserted into my veins and an oxygen mask was handed to me.  I was in for  the long haul.  The birthing bar was inserted above my bed and I alternated hanging on for dear life and pushing against it like I was squatting 1000 pounds.  With every push I turned completely blue.  Blood vessels were popping in my eyes but my baby was getting nowhere.  I thought this was meant to be the easy part. I no longer cared about tearing or hurting or even dying.  I had to get my baby OUT.  No one knew until 2.5 hours later that Raven was in the ROP position.  That means she came out face up, with her head turned toward my left thigh.  She was stuck on my public bone for most of the pushing.  The nurse who had my fingers inside me for 2.5 hours, telling me where to push, saved me.  She was my only focus.  Raven Starr was born at 4:04 pm.  I couldn’t stop shaking for an hour.

My heart is blown open.  She is the biggest little thing I have ever done.  She needs me every second.  I am amazed by humanity.  The way we all get here….this is my birth story, but it is also my daughter’s.  We are healthy, we are tired, we are healing.  I told Myles that after that, I never need to train again.  I just need to go on a few fun bike rides.  With my daughters birth, I also gave birth to myself.  I am a newborn.  I feel shaky but strong.  My old life seems like it was never mine.  How lucky I am to begin again.

Little angel Raven Starr