True stories about birth and giving birth

Day 373. It is difficult to start…(Emma’s arrival)

Day 373. It is difficult to start…(Emma’s arrival)

It is difficult to start writing about it, as I still feel there are no words to describe such a thing as birth. Emotions, feelings, scents, smells, impressions, memories – those I have.

Our first kid was born in a hospital. I have wonderful memories of that. As she was our first baby, we had been looking for her arrival and she was born healthy and in a beautiful way.

Still, when I became expectant I had and became overwhelmed by the feeling that this little newcomer wanted to have another way to be born.

I had had superficial knowledge of homebirth as such, I had seen films about women giving birth peacefully, and I had heard the stories of some friends who had also had their babies at home. I realised that was the direction I had to follow.

To convince and get involved the father of my children wasn’t as easy and unequivocal s that, though. But the lot of hours we spent talking and having sincere conversations were worth it, because we got prepared for the labour together. This was such an important step in our life that might be imagined only by few people.

The preparatory information-week at Napvilág Birthing House made our bound even stronger and verified our thoughts that we were on the right path. We had received all the information we needed about anything we had been interested in, and it had given us the feeling of security. We had experienced a lot of love and attention and it had been such a good feeling to be with other couples planning to have their babies at home. I have never heard so sincere, authentic and professional explanations about expectancy, labour and techniques as there from Ági. It was a determinative experience.

The little baby in my tummy was very well during my whole pregnancy, everything was perfect, and both of us were healthy. By the end of my term we became a little bit impatient; twice it seemed it was about to get started, there were some contractions but then they stopped.

I went to the hospital to have a CTG from week 37 on, and on week 40 I refused to get hospitalised at my own risk, however I still turned up for my CTG every day. Both of us were in perfect conditions. But mentally it was a tough period for me. Somehow I wasn’t able to accept the idea that my birth should happen in a hospital. And that I should get hospitalised before time and there would be no chance to spend at least the time of the labour at home. I am really grateful for those many that were beside me and gave me strength and faith during the last couple of weeks. I could turn to the midwives and my doulas as well any time.

We were on week 40, day 5 when I felt I needed some encouragement so we travelled to Alma Street to see Ági and have some words with her. I asked her to examine me because I had felt something that morning. And here again I experienced the same peace, tranquillity, care and love that I had during the preparatory week and it made me calm down and gave me strength. I felt secure and loved!

In the very evening the labour started and our daughter was born by the morning as we had longed for.

After getting home I was overwhelmed by the feeling of something different. I turned inwards more than I had ever felt or thought before. I had some connections to the outer world, but not too much. From time to time I felt the contractions (not to sharp ones). I didn’t really want to go into it because of the previous starts and stops. I was waiting patiently.

The afternoon passed. We were playing with Hanna, had our everyday life; I cooked dinner, put Hanna to bed and was paying attention to myself. When I started to feel there was a kind of system in what was happening I called the midwife. Later we lit some candles, listened to music and the labour started. The water broke and it was leaking, I had a shower and got more and more excited about the contractions becoming more often.

It was night. My friend arrived. Our daughter, Hanna woke up, but we decided to send her away with Granny. That was the time I called the midwife to ask them to come because it hurt so much. I needed their support and help.

By the time everyone got there there was almost no time between the contractions. I couldn’t find a way that wasn’t painful. I was hanging on my husband with my arms around his neck, swinging my hips or making it go round and round. Listening to my breath I somehow survived the pain. These were wonderful moments in spite the pain, because I felt that each contraction took me closer to the end. It was strange to face the fact that here no one wanted to tell me what to do, where we were or not to shout or they didn’t mean to examine me, etc. Everybody was there for ME, and was trying to support and help me to make it easier, more comfortable and good for me.

There were massaging hands that pressed my hip strongly, because that seemed to be the only way to lessen my pains. The compress was comforting as well but I couldn’t enjoy it for a long time because everything happened so fast and intensively. More than anything else my husband’s presence, his shoulders that I could cling to, his encouraging words and his hug were the very best!

So is this the way WOMEN give birth? That is incredible!

An idea like this might have rushed through my head after crying out that there were no more time between the contractions and they hit again and again and it hurt sooo muuuch! Later I shouted something like she wouldn’t make it to push through and that I couldn’t take it anymore. Of course I could and so could her head.

By this time I was shouting and moaning sometimes loudly, sometimes even more loudly and I felt the baby’s head pushing out painfully and I felt I could die. I think at that time I was somewhere else, almost in delirium. It was a very deep inner encounter with Power up. While I was suffering from these terrible pains I felt at the same time that it is worth to be a woman for this moment because there is nothing like this. My baby’s head was coming out and I felt all the little movements of it.

The moment when her head managed to get out finally arrived. What a relief I thought but then I could hear a voice telling me to push the baby out. I pushed and soon the little body slipped out too. The cord was around her under her armpit, and round her neck, too. Of course everything went well and little Emma signalled that she was right and had arrived.

I was on all fours sinking down on my husband’s lap, and I turned to look back at her and I could see our baby heaving in the caring arms of the midwife. My heart was full of love and gratitude.

Now, that was the time when I felt again: Girls, that’s how we should give birth! Nobody was poking at my baby, pushing a tube down through her nose, there was no neon shining into her eyes, she wasn’t taken away and given a bath, and measured. The midwife looked after her with love and devotion, silently, calmly and with a professional care. Then I was helped up, and I was still connected to her and her little warm body was put on me. It was a beautiful feeling comparable to nothing.

Just like my baby before, I was cared for with love and attention. Everyone was there to help me, to give me a drink, to put a pillow under my head.

The placenta soon detached and Dad cut the cord. The hours after the birth passed quickly, I felt better and better, the sun rose and it was morning. And we were there in the living room resting with our newborn baby in our arms. Silently, peacefully, in love!

Welcome to this world sweet Emma!

My thanks to those who do so much for home birth.

Let all midwives be blessed and loved at their work!

F. A.

Véletlenül kiválasztott mesék.

This post is also available in: Hungarian