The Home Waterbirth Story of Edythe Rose

Every woman's birth story is different, and for me, having given birth to 6 babies, I can say the same of each of my births. I've experienced everything from a cesarean section to a beautiful home waterbirth, to a stillborn delivery of my 20 week gestation son. And I've even gone through the equally difficult labour of bringing a child home through adoption.

I suppose it was foolish of me to think that the birth of my sweet Edythe Rose would be any less eventful than any other.  Still, leading up to her due date, February 11, I gave little thought to the birth process, or even to the logistics of a homebirth - after all, I'd done it all before, right? To be honest though, it was probably more of a mind block than anything - because despite some wonderful birth experiences, the traumatic ones certainly leave a more lasting impression. Her pregnancy had been relatively uneventful - from a clinical standpoint.  But, from an emotional place, it had been pretty terrible. I spent the first 20 weeks worried at every moment that my baby was going to die. Every twinge of pain, or reminder of Israel, sent me running for my doppler to check the heart beat.  After about 20 weeks I was blessed to be able to feel her move consistently, so the doppler was used less, but still, always by my side.

On the evening of January 25th I had no expectation of having the baby any time soon.  In fact, I completely assumed that I would go at least to my due date, if not beyond, and I was totally okay with that.  That day my dad had offered to drive my kids into the city for a full day Forest School program they participate in, and my plan was to be totally productive at home - but I ended up just sitting around knitting and relaxing, which turned out to be exactly what I needed.  The kids and Jared all came home and we had dinner together and got ready for bed as usual.  Because of the severe hip pain I'd been having, I had been sleeping on the couch for several weeks, so at about 11 pm Jared kissed me goodnight and headed up to our bedroom, and I hunkered down on the couch.

I wasn't quite asleep yet, just in the place between wake and sleep, when I suddenly felt the unmistakable pop and gush that was my water breaking.  I started quiet yelling for Jared - you know the one you do when you don't want to really yell, but you need to be heard?  "Jared. Jared!  JARED!!!"  Finally he woke and groggily got up.  I yelled, "Bring me a towel!"  I had quickly tucked a blanket under me, but didn't want to stand up without a towel to absorb the certain gush that would follow. Once Jared realized the reason I'd so abruptly awoken him, and we sat in shock that we did not have 2 1/2 more weeks to prepare for a baby, he sprang to action fairly quickly.

The first thing we did was call our midwives.  During the homebirths of Atticus and Machen I'd refused to call them until I was basically ready to push the boys out, but this time two things were different:
1. We now live out in the country, 45 minutes from the city. I knew I had to give them a little heads up if I wanted them to get there.
2. Even though my water had only just broken, the only other experiences I'd had with my water breaking before labour had begun were Eli's birth, which ended up in a c-section at 35 weeks, and Israel's stillbirth.  With these experiences replaying in my mind, I needed the reassurance of my midwives that this time would not be like those times, which, of course, they gave me.

So, with that being done, Jared headed over to my parents' house, who live next door, and whose house we were actually planning on delivering the baby at, to set up the birth tub and such, while I tried to calm my nerves at our house and get some rest while I waited for contractions to start (oh, and frantically texting all my sisters to tell them that I was in labour!) I was excited to finally meet the little one I'd been carrying for 38 weeks, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit the amount of fear I felt: at one end of the scale, just the regular fear of labour and the pain that accompanies it, and at the other end, fear that my baby would die, like Israel did, just a year before. Sleep, therefore, did not come easily, as I lay there sorting through all those emotions, and constantly taking note of every kick and movement I felt within.

After a fitful sleep, with inconsistent and not very strong contractions all night long,but thankfully all sorts of movement from the baby, I woke up discouraged, and a little worried that I was going to do a do-over of Eli's birth. I texted this to my midwife, Wendy:
"Inconsistent contractions. Not terribly strong, but stronger that BHs. Baby's moving lots, still. A little blood in my fluid. Still leaking lots, but the gushers seem to have subsided."

I spent the morning with my family, taking walks and eating good food, but by noon what little contractions I'd been having had stopped completely, and I didn't have another before 4 pm when we decided to go to the hospital to check things out. The kids all went to my sister Alice's house for the night. At the hospital they monitored baby - who was doing just fine - and did a quick ultrasound to check the baby's position - also fine. And so, we went home, hoping once again that labour would begin before too long (after we stopped at Wendy's for a Spicy Chicken dinner!)  We made a date to meet at the hospital the next morning at 9 am for an induction if nothing happened over night, and to try harder to get things going naturally.

At home at 9 pm, with an electric pump in hand, I got to work.  Almost immediately upon starting to pump, contractions picked up.  And they were strong!  So, I'd pump, pump, pump, and then sit there and contract for an hour or so. But, slowly they would slow down, and get less intense, so I'd hook up to the pump again, and they would pick up. It was exhausting, and it was in the middle of the night, and I hadn't really slept the night before either, and all I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew that I had to keep going. At one point contractions were strong enough, and I was vocalizing loud enough, that I woke Jared up. He came down to me, contracting, and frustrated with my body, and he said, "Well, I think we should just go to sleep and deal with it in the morning."  Wouldn't that be nice if you could just go to bed and deal with labour in the morning...

By about 3:30 am, with constant pumping to keep contractions going we called the midwives, and they agreed it was time for them to come out.  We gathered what we needed from my house and headed up to my mom's.  My sister, Chloe, came over to take pictures, and my dad left to take care of her kids. By 4 am we were there with my 2 midwives, Wendy and Carol, my mom and sister, and I was already totally exhausted.

As things do in labour, the timing is all messed up in my head. At some point they checked me, and I was only 6 cm.  I was pissed (really, that's the only way to describe it.) I had been contracting HARD for HOURS, and I was only 6 cm!  As long as I was pumping, the contractions would keep up, but the contractions were so hard, like transition hard, and I hated every minute of it.  What I really wanted was to go to the hospital and have an epidural and sleep and just get the whole thing over with - except for the fact that I hate hopsitals, and doctors, and 40 minute drives to hospitals when I'm in labour.  So, at home I stayed, but not without lots of complaint, and a few expletives to boot.

I so desperately wanted to be in the birth pool, but when I'd get in, while it felt like heaven, the contractions would stop.  And so the midwives would pull me out, I'd hook up again to the pump, get contractions going strong, only to get back in the pool and have them stop again.  It was so frustrating, and I honestly just kept thinking, "If this is going to end up with me in the OR with a cesarean, lets just cut to the chase and go to the hospital right now. Why am I suffering through this?!"  But, the midwives remained optimistic (annoyingly so, if you would have asked me in the moment) that all was fine, and that if we could just keep things going that we would have the baby soon.  They suggested I get dressed and go for a walk - outside - something I had no interest, whatsoever in doing (it was -14 degrees Celsius out!)  So, instead, I walked the stairs, and around the house.  While I moved, contractions kept coming, and while I pumped, they came even harder.  But still, I was not progressing as fast as I felt like I should.  I was sure I'd gone through transition twice already, but I really hadn't, and I just needed a nap!

At some point the discussion was had that if we were going to go to the hospital we needed to make a decision, considering the 45 minute drive. It was after 9, because earlier I heard Wendy call the hospital to tell them we wouldn't be coming in for the induction at 9, but I don't know exactly what time it was.  I was convinced to try one more time to get things moving, to pump consistently, to stay out of the pool, and to have this baby soon.  So, that's what we did. I lay on my side on the couch and pumped. I hated every minute of it, and every time a contraction would start I'd pull the darn thing off, only to have the Carol pass it to me again immediately after.  I begged to get back in the pool, but was told no because we needed to keep things moving.  It felt like forever, but it mustn't have been too long.  Finally my Carol said I could get into the pool if I'd go have a few contractions on the toilet.  I HATE having contractions on the toilet. I think with both Tuck and Mac's labours I went through transition on the toilet. Well, that remained consistent. I went to the bathroom, had three MAJOR contractions right on top of each other that almost ripped me in half, and that was that.  I got in the pool, and it was go time - no more pumping, no more stalling, no more hope of an epidural and a nap.

In the pool the contractions were strong, but so much better than on the couch or the toilet.  Jared held me under my arms while falling asleep himself.  I was so, so tired.  Between contractions I just cried that I wanted to sleep.  At some point I was so frantic that I started hyperventilating, which caused my hands to cramp up really strange, and shake, which freaked me out and made me even more frantic.  Here I was, supposed to push out a baby, and I couldn't control my own hands. At some point Carol checked me in the water to see if there was a lip there that she could push away, but all was fine.  She told me that it would all be over, and all I needed to do was to push the baby out. But, I was waiting for the urge to push: the primal feeling that would take over my body and expel the baby itself.  I was too tired to do it myself.  Many contractions went by, with me crying that I couldn't do it, and Carol telling me I could. I could feel the top of her head easily in me, but just couldn't find the energy to push her our. Finally it occurred to me, that just like everything else in this labour, my body wasn't going to do it on it's own, and I was just going to have to help it along, or be in labour FOREVER, which wasn't really a viable option. So I pushed.  I think it only took two or three contractions to get her out once I decided to do it, but it felt like the hardest thing I'd ever done.  I was just so tired, and my hands were still cramped and shaking, and I was still a little disappointed that I couldn't have that epidural. But I pushed, and out she came. It was 11:40 am. So, while it had been a very long 36 hours, I really had only been in active, hard labour for about 2 - the rest was spent trying hard to get there. 

We didn't have an ultrasound during our pregnancy, and didn't know what we were having. After already having 5 boys, I was pretty sure we were having another.  As the baby came out, I yelled, "Here he comes!" But, I pulled the baby up, and to everyone's surprise, HE was actually a SHE!!!  Everyone was so excited - my mom was crying, Jared was giddy -  but to be honest, I was so tired, all I could think about was taking a nap, and that I was relieved that we didn't have to come up with another boy name (we'd had Edythe picked out since we were pregnant with our first).

It didn't take long for the cord to stop pulsing.  We all just sat and admired her while we waited.  The midwives gave me a dose of oxytocin to help along the placenta delivery and uterine contractions, something I didn't take after my other homebirths, but was willing to do considering the distance to the hospital in the case that something might have happened. I think, due to that, I delivered my placenta much faster and easier than I had in the past.  We collected it in a bowl so that I could have it encapsulated.

I got out of the pool as soon as the placenta was delivered and went with the baby into the bedroom. Very shortly after we got in there Alice brought my kids over to meet their new baby sister. They were all surprised, and very excited. 

It was Silas's turn to cut the cord (Eli had cut Atticus's, and Evy had cut Machen's), but he didn't want to, and neither did Atticus, so Jared cut it. Carol then checked the baby and me, to make sure all was well. I didn't tear a bit. Then she examined the placenta, showing it to the kids and explaining how amazing it is. Then the kids helped weight and measure Edythe.  She weighed in at only 6 lbs 12 oz and was 21 inches long.

She wasn't (and still isn't) the strongest nurser, I think because she was so tiny compared to me, but she did latch on and get some milk right away in the pool, and again on the bed. After all that pumping, I was primed and ready to go, so even with a weak latch, she got lots of colostrum right off the bat.

 At some point someone brought me something to eat, and a big glass of orange juice to drink, and once all the business had been taken care of Edythe was passed around for everyone to admire.  It was obvious that she was the star of the show! And finally, once everyone had gotten enough, they left the room, and I finally got to sleep!

 

The Birth Story of Machen Thomas Wiebe

            While Machen’s pregnancy was very much wanted, it also came during one of the most stressful years of our lives. It was the same year that we were waiting to have our sweet Evelyn home with us and was filled with Social Service visits, adoption training, and endless waiting. We got pregnant in July 2013, and lost that baby in September, on the same day that we were told that Evy had to move back to her foster home after living with us for 4 months, to await official approval. When we got pregnant again in November, we couldn’t have been more thrilled. We were still dealing with the work involved with bringing Evy home, but the prospect of another addition to our family was such a joy.

            The pregnancy was hard: both physically and emotionally. I was sick for the first part, and my hips and pelvis hurt terribly through the latter part. I felt that with everything else going on, I didn’t have time to prepare for the actual birth, and hoped that all the previous experiences I had would get me through.

            Then, when I was 38 weeks pregnant, I got into an accident. I went out for a horseback ride, and my horse, who normally didn’t give me any trouble, bucked me off. I landed on my bum, and so the baby was fine, but I broke my tailbone and was in severe pain. While before the accident I had been hoping that the baby would come sooner than later, after the fall I started praying that he would just stay put for a few more weeks, so that I could heal. I couldn’t lie on my back or sit up at all, in fact, I could barely walk, and I didn’t want to go into labour while I was so immobile.

            On July 27, a Sunday evening, just 10 days after the accident, I knew labour would be starting soon. My water hadn’t “broke,” but I was leaking a little, and I just knew that my body was ready. While we were sitting outside with the kids in the evening enjoying the warm summer night, I told Jared I thought that that night would be the night.

            We went to bed early, and slept well. I woke up at 5 am, before Jared woke up to go to work, with mild contractions. They were very gentle, but they were consistently about 10 minutes apart, so I knew I had been right and that I would soon meet my baby. When Jared woke up I told him that I didn’t want him to go into work, and that we should probably get the birth stuff ready.

            Because I was leaking amniotic fluid, but was not actually in labour, I did have a fear that it would be a replay of Eli’s birth – days of waiting, followed by a caesarean. Thankfully, after Atticus’s birth I knew my body could do it, and so I hoped things would move along quickly. I was very apprehensive though because of the pain I was still in due to my fall.

            By 10 am I was confident that labour had begun, and I called the appropriate people to let them know. Chloe and Joan, who were going to come over to take pictures and help with the big kids, and the midwives. I told them all that I was doing fine and would let them know when I need them.

            I spent most of the morning and early afternoon in bed. I napped with Atticus, cuddling with my “baby” one last time. I listened to my hypnobabies tracks. At 2:30 things still hadn’t really picked up, but were remaining consistent. I was definitely in labour, just not very strong labour. At this point the whole family gathered together for a family prayer – just the kind of strength and support that I needed at the time.

            After Tuck’s nap I decided to go downstairs to knit and watch TV. Jared continued to watch the kids upstairs and in the backyard. I finished two little hats, and began another while I was in labour. About ½ way through the third hat I’d had enough of the TV show I was watching (Downton Abby, for those who are interested), and was finally having contractions that I couldn’t just sit through. I think things were more painful than they otherwise would have been because my movement was so limited due to my broken tailbone.

            I lost track of time through here, but at some point Chloe and Joan showed up. My mom brought dinner for everyone, and I was mildly aware that while I was labouring downstairs, my entire family was having a party in my backyard. My dad, two brother-in-laws and my nephews were even out back!  

I finally got into the tub. I did not want to slow contractions down by getting in to the water, but I knew how good it would feel to be in there. I laboured for a while in the tub. At some point each of the kids came down to check on me. Silas was especially interested. I didn’t mind them there, and looking back feel that I managed contractions better when they were there because I had to not scream.

            Things started to get to a point where I felt I couldn’t manage contractions any more. At 7:37 pm I told Jared to call the midwives, hoping that they could help. In the pool things were so much better, but I could really only be in two positions: on my knees with my arms over the side, or kind of propped on one side, not on my bum, but up on one knee. On both knees seemed to work best.

            I’m not sure when the midwives got there. It must have been shortly after 8. Carol, Wendy, and the student, Janelle, all came. I was not thrilled to see Janelle there, but was so consumed that I didn’t really care. They worked me through a few contractions, and then I felt the baby descend. I told them I wanted my kids down, and so someone ran upstairs to get them. Once they got down there I actually didn’t want them right there, so I sent them back to one of the bedrooms. I didn’t want them to see me like that; I was really not dealing very well, and didn’t want the kids to see that part of it.   Later Jared said that I was being pretty funny, but I felt dead serious as I demanded to go to the hospital, an epidural, to adopt next time. I yelled at Janelle to not talk, because every time she opened her mouth I was annoyed. (The funny thing is, I really like Janelle. She was at all of my prenatal appointments and was really nice. I just didn’t want her to tell me what to do!)

            Right after the kids went back to the room, my water actually broke with a POP!  Immediately after that my body started to push. It was the same as with Atticus’s birth where I didn’t really push, my body just did it. I pushed once and his head was out, and another and his body was out. The kids came out immediately and met their new brother.

            Although we didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl, when I looked to find he was another boy, I was not at all surprised. It was as if I had known all along. He was so sweet. When he first came out the midwives said, “Jenny, here’s your baby, reach down and get your baby.” And I just stayed there on my hands and knees and ignored them for a minute. Even though if felt like it went on forever, I had gone from totally manageable pain, through transition, to baby out, it one hour. Machen was born at 8:37 pm, exactly an hour after we called the midwives.

            We waited for the cord to stop pulsing and then Evy got to cut it. I waited for my placenta to deliver, but ended up having to stand up and squat in order to push it out. The midwives were very hands off for that part – they didn’t try to pull on the cord, but told me how to, and just told me different things to try to get the placenta out.

            Looking back on the events of the labour I see that it really wasn’t that bad, and that it actually was very similar to Tuck’s birth, except that early labour was longer. But, it really felt so much worse. I was a little shell shocked after the fact. I think it was partly because of the accident, and me not ready to go into labour, but it was also because I went into it emotionally unprepared. I had spent all of my energy on Evy’s adoption throughout the pregnancy, and had little left for the intensity of the labour. Also, I think with Tuck I had something to prove – I had to know if my body could deliver a baby or not. This time I had nothing to prove, and I really just wanted it to be over. I feel bad that I felt that way, but that’s how it went.

            Machen’s Apgar scores were 9 and 9. He was exactly 8 lbs at 19 ½ inches long. When he first came out of the water he just snuggled into my chest. After a bit he let out a little wail but really didn’t cry that much. He nursed on my left breast like champ, while we were still in the pool, and lying down in the bed (because I couldn’t sit up) when we got up to my bedroom.  Right from the start he was a star nurser. Heavenly Father blessed me with a good nurser, because he must have known that with my injury I wouldn’t have been able to handle it otherwise.