The Birth of Natalia Alexis I took one of the obligatory birthing classes while pregnant with my eldest daughter. Me, my husband, and my sister classmates were made to watch a video about the potential “beauty” of birth. I use quotes to emphasize where my eyes would have rolled back into my head with an accompanying “oh, brother,” to follow. In this video, a midwife goes into labor in an idyllic rancho in Mexico. During her labor, she eats a delicious meal with her family, takes a walk by a babbling brook, and delivers in a lavishly tiled bath large enough for herself, her husband, and later, her young son to join her. She delivers her own baby there with only the loving support of her husband. It appeared as though she feels little pain, and the baby arrives very quickly and with apparent ease. Having never given birth before, I filed this picture away as a beautiful dream, not likely attainable but very inspirational.
My first birth was everything I dared hope it to be. It made me feel powerful and capable, and I was grateful for the loving help of my midwife, husband, and friend who attended to me as I naturally delivered my baby. It was, however, long, arduous, exhausting, and life threatening because of a hemorrhage after the birth. Looking back, I was much more fearful than I realized. The unknown loomed over the experience as I fought each contraction.
My second birth, while equally satisfying as a testament to my strength and capabilities, was very different in every other way. First of all, I had done it before. The unknown was replaced with a calming sense of knowing. My body remembered what to do; and I was able to quiet my mind because of this memory. Secondly, I delivered in the peaceful, secure surroundings of home. And most importantly, my hand was held by my husband and team of midwives: Michelle Fitzgerald and the “Kristens.”
The contractions began while I was in court. I am an attorney, and this day I was representing some children whose parents were having trouble protecting them. The contractions were strong but irregular. I felt very calm, partly, because I was in denial that the baby would come that day and, partly, because I felt I was doing what I needed to be doing at the time- representing these kids. So I finished the court hearing and went with the children back to their house for what I thought might be the last visit for a long while. I had more energy than I had in weeks, but I still would not let myself think that the baby was coming today. I returned home to a house full of in-laws in town visiting my nephew in college. We had a great meal and great conversation. Finally, after a particularly strong contraction, my mother-in-laws eyes met mine. Having given birth to six boys herself, she shooed everyone out of the door in her quiet way without a word about me. She knew what was coming, but I still had my room for denial. I told my husband today could be the day, and his first reaction was to panic- ordering me to go lie down. Instead, I convinced him to help me pick up around the house just enough to make me feel comfortable when the midwives came. Then my daughter, he, and I took a wonderful nap together. When we woke up, we went for a short walk on the nearby golf course along a little creek still running from the recent rains. Then I sat down to write the remaining thank you cards from a baby shower the weekend before.
These details are mundane, but they remarkably resemble the idyllic picture of the Mexican midwife. It really could have been any day in my life. I was so calm and relaxed. But this was not just any day, it was the day my daughter, Alexis, would enter this world and join our lives. Alexis, the defender, wanted to tell that judge something in court that morning. I suppose we will have to wait awhile to know exactly what she wanted to say.
I called Michelle around 6pm to let her know that the baby might be on its way. She told me that she had tickets to the Paramount Theater that evening. She hesitated to go, but I insisted there was plenty of time. So she went with the promised pager on her hip. By 7pm though, the Kristens arrived at our door to get things ready and to survey the situation. They went to get dinner at 8pm. Alex fixed us some chicken parmesan that was delicious. The Kristens returned by 9pm to find me lying quietly on the couch. The contractions were coming about 5 minutes apart, but no one could have guessed it except for their trained eyes because I was so still. What a wonderful memory! I was so comfortable on my couch with none of the writhing or yelling from my first birth. I was just not as afraid this time. The Kristens paged Michelle. Michelle never got the page. Instead, she was arguing with the valet that he needed to bring her car around right away because she had to get to a woman in labor. She just had a feeling, and her feeling was right. Around 9:30, we all went back into the bedroom, and the contractions intensified and began coming one after the other. I began to feel nervous for the first time. My mind began to overrun the calm stillness in my heart, and I heard a dialogue that went something like, “Oh, God, here it comes.” Michelle entered the room like a calm breeze. She held me and told me to relax in just the way I needed to hear it. I felt my body relax. “Oh, that is much better,” I remember my head admitting. By 10pm, she had me in a warm bath surrounded by candles and soft, beautiful music. They left Alex and I alone for a while. With Michelle’s wise words in my mind, I felt as though I was under the pain as each contraction washed over me like the bath water. I didn’t fight it; I just experienced it. By 10:20pm, I was ready to get out of the water. Things were advancing so quickly, so Michelle gave me the option of keeping the same pace or breaking my water and having the baby right away. I remember feeling so powerful and confident in my decision to break the water and go forward. She broke my water at 10:45. By 11pm, Michelle set us up beside the bed. Alex held me under my arms from behind while Michelle sat in front to guide my baby. The fog surrounded me as I pushed and surrounds my memory still. This is nature’s sweet, natural drug. The pushing is at once the most painful but also the most exquisite. My grandmother, sitting next to me and my new daughter, will later ask me later if I saw the darkness. With the absolute knowing that only experience can bring, I will say, yes, to her. The darkness must be different for each woman who experiences it. For me, it was the moment when I faced my innermost fears. “I can’t do this,” I heard my mouth say, but my body would not listen, and my heart would not be denied. In the darkness, where life begins, I faced my own death and experienced an absolute surrender to my divine purpose in that moment. My baby was born at 11:23pm on July 20, 2007. Each day is a new opportunity to capture such clarity of purpose, such exquisite perfection. Welcome to this world, Little One. Thank you for your first gift to me.