My Secret :

Or the birth of Jeremy Rowan Clark

June 23, 2002

I had a baby.  Now anyone who knows me realizes that this isn’t the secret.  We have proudly told everyone we know about our son.  He is amazing!  We all adore him.  As well, pretty much everyone knows by now that he was born at home, his birth attended by his daddy.

The secret is his birth story.  I have been asked many times about his birth and various people know tidbits of our shared experience, but I have yet to tell anyone the whole thing.  I have sat down several times to write about his birth, but haven’t been able to bring myself to committing it to paper…  I finally understood this morning that this is because his birth experience was so personal and so intimate that to share it feels invasive.  Then I realized that I don’t have to share it with anyone simply because it has been written.  I can hold the secret as long as I need to and when the time feels right – then I can tell the whole world.

On Friday June 21, I began to suspect that perhaps I wouldn’t be pregnant forever.  I had been having BH contractions for months, so the sensation wasn’t completely new to me.  It did feel a bit “different” though.  I mentioned to my mom that day that I thought my body was beginning ever so slowly to prepare itself for birth.

Saturday morning about 6:30 I got up to pee.  I noticed that I was still having the usual tightenings in my uterus. They were more frequent although they were still quite spaced apart. I stood and walked back to the bedroom and when I got there I began to leak.  I momentarily wondered if I was peeing again, although I didn’t see how that could be the case…  Of course it was my waters leaking.  I got dried off and climbed back into bed.  Something was definitely happening!  I drifted off to sleep again, happy but determined not to get too excited too early with this birth.  I was going to sleep because it was early and I would need my strength later.  We got up around 10:30 and began a fairly normal day.  I told Dan that something was happening and that I was in early labor.  I spent the day napping and reading, eating when I felt like it and relaxing.  Dan was great for making sure my glass of fluids followed me around the house – and I drank quite a bit RRL tea with chlorophyll.  I spoke to Jolene on the phone a few times and managed even through contractions not to let on that anything was different than usual.  For some reason I did not want anyone to know.  I didn’t want anyone clock watching for me or worrying if it took a long time.  I just wanted this birth to happen.

We ate supper that night and eventually Elaya went to bed.  Andree was away camping for the weekend – he would be home on Sunday evening.  It was the perfect time to have a baby if we wanted it to be just Dan and me.  I found myself struggling somewhat with what “should” I be doing.  Was it appropriate to be watching tv when perhaps I should be going out for a walk?  Maybe I should go to bed and get some sleep if I could.  If I actually ate supper that evening could I really be in labor?  Questions flooded my mind.  I had an insatiable need to know how far along I was and when would this baby be born.  Was I in early labor or was something actually happening?  Could I get into the pool any time soon?  Was this going to be another 3-day birth? 

Dan gave me a dose of Sulfur, the homeopathic remedy that seems to be able to make my life better, at about 11 p.m.  He doesn’t ask anymore.  He just prepares it and I take it.  It was nice to have someone else thinking at a time when that would have just been one more question for me to obsess about.  Should I take Sulfur – or do I need another remedy this time?

Dan and I spent some deliciously intimate moments together during the evening.  It was so nice to be close to him and to feel his support.  It was great to spend time with him and not have anyone observing us.  We snuggled and talked.  He was so positive that things were happening – that I the labor was progressing, as it should.

Some time after midnight we went upstairs.  I didn’t have a recollection of time by this point.  It was all just floating by us at a “Twilight Zone” pace.  I labored in our darkened room for a while in various positions depending on what felt right at the time, the midwife in my mind warring with the mother giving birth in my body.   Sometimes I was on my hands and knees, sometimes standing.  I spent time on the toilet.  We set up the birthing pool (a plastic children’s pool) and filled it.  Eventually I allowed myself to get into it.  The water felt great.  It was so much easier to get comfortable.  I had finally found a position that eased the ever-present ache in my back.  I spent quite a bit of time in the water.  After a while I started to feel “pushy.”  Part of my mind was saying, “This is way too early to be pushing!”  The other part realized that if it was time to push and I did, the baby would be born soon.

After a few pushes in the water Dan suggested a change of position.  Perhaps getting up and out of the water would move things along.  I think he realized instinctively that something needed to change.  When I was upright the contractions intensified.  I went through several on the bed on hands and knees, rushing to the toilet regularly to pee (thanks to the RRL tea and watermelon I had no problem keeping my bladder empty!)  Before long the contractions were getting the better of me.  I was beginning to hear the blathering in my mind, “I attend birth very well – but I don’t give birth well at all!” being the most prevalent sound track.  I realized that I was comparing myself in birth with others who I knew, women I had attended and the unassisted birth stories I had heard.  The midwife within was holding up a measuring stick and I was seeing myself falling short.  It took some work to come to the conclusion that no one else’s birth had anything to do with me.  No other birth I had ever attended had anything to do with this birth.  My previous two births were irrelevant right here right now. 

That was one hurdle cleared.  I naively thought I was now on my way to birthing this baby.  I got up to go to the bathroom once more and was hit with a succession of nasty contractions.  I was pushing, had been for some time now but the baby wasn’t moving down.  I began to panic.  I remember sitting on the toilet wondering what on earth I was going to do.  I needed someone to save me.  I really needed someone there who could make it all better and help me through it.  Could I transport to the hospital for another Cesarean Birth?  Was that an option for me?  Not really, although I can completely understand the epidural rage in hospitals today.  If I had been somewhere where someone could have offered me that kind of release, a way out of the pain, I would have taken it in a heartbeat.  I did think about it – quite seriously, very quickly perhaps, but seriously.  I decided that I couldn’t transport again.  I knew that the only way through this for me was through it, but how was I realistically going to get there?  I was intermittently crying and calling for help.  I didn’t know where to go…

At about 4:30 a.m., I asked Dan to phone Darlene.  She is one of the most amazing women I know.  She has attended many births and has been the inspiration for numerous UC births.  She is a traditional midwife.  Dan talked to Darlene for a bit and then handed the phone to me.  I was still in the “someone needs to save me” mindset.  What I wanted to hear her say was that she was on her way over to make it all better.  She lives over 2 hours from me!  She very quietly asked where I was feeling the pressure/contraction.  I told her it was largely in my back.  She listened to me as another wave rocked my body and then suggested that it sounded like the baby was very low applying a lot of pressure to the cervix, but that I was not fully dilated.  Therefore, I was having the urge to push without any progress.  This resonated with what I “knew.”  The midwife within stood back, arms crossed nodding her head.  The mother in labor groaned and whined in disbelief at the suggestion that she could try blowing off the contractions for a time.  As the next swell hit I met it head on with a breath.  While I was blowing out it was barely manageable.  When I had to break to inhale, I felt myself drowning.  Right there beside me I heard Darlene praising me, supporting me, validating what I was doing.  She listened to me blow through two contractions and said that I should probably aim for an hour at least.  As I heard her I wondered how on earth I could do that?  How could anyone ever ask a woman in labor to blow away that kind of intensity?  I told her I would try and hung up feeling still somewhat lost because she wasn’t coming to my aid. Dan lit the candles on my birth alter which represented the most amazing group of women I know.  He knew that I needed support and saw that this was a way to help me.

For a time – 20 mins – 3 hours who knows – I laid on my side in bed beside Dan as he tried to get some much-needed sleep – blowing off contractions.  I would look at the candle lit wall and the flickering lights.  It was helpful to have the women represented by the candles present with me and to connect with other women birthing in the world.  I was thankful for my experience with toning because I would moan/tone through each contraction and rock back and forth frantically until it was over.  At the end of each one I would blow it away and remind myself that I needn’t go there ever again.  I got up to pee one more time and was bowled over by the intensity.  I sat on the toilet crying wondering how Dan could possibly ignore my plea for help.

When I came back into the bedroom I told him that I wanted to get back into the pool.  Something in me made a connection with the water and I understood that I needed whatever it was the water had to offer.  I got in and Dan turned on the hot water to warm up the pool.  It felt wonderful.  The warm water rushing toward my belly as I leaned back helped immensely.  The pain in my back was beginning to subside.

For the next hour and a half or so I found my zone.  It was an amazing place to be.  For the first time I fully understood what Pam England meant by the term “Birthing From Within.”  It was the strangest place to be.  Today I get only a soft edged glimpse of that place and it continues to fade with time.  It was quiet and warm and ever so calm.  During contractions I would tone or blow (breath awareness being another HUGE blessing to me during this birth.)  Between contractions, I floated away.  It was almost like during those times in between I didn’t exist.  Time was completely irrelevant and one sensation was in no way related to the next.  Occasionally I would look up and see Dan sitting at the edge of the pool.  I think he was napping on and off – although not soundly I’m sure.  At one point I looked up and he looked a bit concerned – but he simply smiled and said nothing.  His trust and belief in me were overwhelming.  When I failed to see the strength in myself he never lost that sight.

Some part of me was vaguely aware that after a time my uterus was pushing without my conscious effort.  I continued to blow through contractions for a time and observed my body doing it’s own work.  It was an interesting place to be.

Suddenly something within me shifted.  Laying and blowing off contractions was no longer the right thing to do.  There was a slight catch in my breath/tone during the contraction and that ever present midwife smiled within me.  I thought perhaps I would get up to pee again.  I got as far as an upright on my knees position when another one came over me.  After that contraction I checked within and the baby’s head was right there.  I could feel it less than one inch inside me.  I told Dan and he was hit with a burst of energy.  It was fun to watch because the tension he was feeling lifted as we were once again in a moving forward kind of place.

I was on my knees leaning forward against the back of the birth pool which we had supported with two bean bag chairs.  I could feel the baby move down during contractions and slide back up between.  After a couple contractions, I began to plead with him.  “Come on baby!  Come on baby!”  That wise woman within understood what the baby was doing – gently preparing his path into the world, but the mother bear within had had enough.  She wanted a baby to hold and to nurse and she had been waiting long enough!  When I began to understand that the fullness in my bowels was causing the delay I experienced a moment of embarrassment.  I made some mention to Dan about needing to have a poop.  He thought I’d said the baby pooped.  I said, “No, I am going to!”  In his most complete moment of assistance he said to me “You do what you need to do.”  It was in that instant I understood the perfection of unassisted birth.  There was no one present who would judge me.  There was no one wondering what I was doing or why.  No once was concerned about the well being of the baby because I knew he was fine.  No one suggested that perhaps I should do this or that.  The only other person present loved me and believed in me and trusted me.  He knew that I knew what I needed to do!

I pushed and pushed and pushed!  I wasn’t waiting much longer to see this wee one.  I could feel him wiggling within me – squirming his way out.  After a momentary “Is this a head?  What is this?  This feels weird!” I determined that yes he was coming head first.  The head moved down steadily ever feeling larger and larger.  My hands were over his head supporting myself from the outside.  I could feel his hair waving in the water, tickling my palm.  It began to burn and for an instant I thought, “I will NEVER give birth unassisted again!  I will NEVER recommend unassisted birth again!  I don’t think I will EVER do this again!!”  And then as I breathed, his head slipped through into my hands.  I saw and felt him turning.  Taking that last curve in the path to this world.  With the next push his body was coming. His cord was looped around his neck and under one arm.  I lifted it off and he swam out and grabbed hold of my leg.  Dan and I both reached down for him and as he was brought to my body Dan said quietly “Whatcha got mama?”  I looked although we both already knew, and confirmed that yes indeed we had a boy!

Crying I marveled at how adorable he was and how incredibly much he looked like his sister.  I was overwhelmed with pure joy.  He was here and I was cuddling him and all was right with the world.  He cried quietly for a few seconds and then snuggled into my body.

Dan phoned his mom almost instantly.  He was excited and needed to share the news.  Gramma got to hear the first wee cries of her grandson.  This served another purpose as it turned out; it gave us the birth time for our wee babe on our phone bill.  He was born at 6:49 a.m.

Dan woke Elaya up.  She came in looking a bit bleary but happy and excited.  She marveled at the wee babe in my arms and asked questions about the baby and the blood in the water.  We discussed again how women bleed after giving birth.  How fortunate to begin to have an understanding of normal at 3!

While still in the birthing pool he latched onto the breast and nursed like a pro.  Dan gave me some Arnica and I relaxed for a time with my baby in arms.  The placenta detached and delivered about 20 minutes after the birth, although there were still membranes holding it in close to my body.  After Jeremy nursed for a while I was starting to feel restless and wanted to get out of the water.  I handed him to Dan and got more upright – pushing slightly while gently pulling the membranes.  They released and I realized that they had only been held in place by a large blood clot inside a  pocket of membrane.

I got up to pee and climbed into bed.  Within an hour after the birth Dan, Elaya and I were nestled into bed together with the baby in awe of this new being in our lives.

Andree came home later in the evening.  When he came in he seemed to know that the baby had been born.  He asked Dan not to tell him if it was a boy or a girl and came up to our bedroom.  When he came in he said to me “Don’t tell me, I want to see if I can tell.”  He looked at the baby and his face lit up as he exclaimed, “It’s a boy!!  Right??”  He was thrilled, having already decided that little sisters are brats he desperately wanted a brother.  He climbed into bed beside him and lay looking at his brother for some time.

That’s my secret.  I finished writing about it this morning.  I held it secure for almost 6 weeks and now feel ready to share it.  There was a real advantage to waiting.  Jeremy Rowan’s birth was so intensely private and intimate that to share it sooner would have disrupted something for me.  It has also taken this time to simply find the words to describe the birth.  I acknowledge now that I could write about his birth daily for the rest of my life and the mere words would still fall desperately short of really sharing the experience.  That knowledge is something for my heart and my soul and cannot be shared in any real way, but I hope this tale may spark that passion in others who have their own stories.  

Elaya's Birth

July 21, 1998

I thought I was prepared for the birth of Elaya Quinn Clark. I had been studying midwifery for several years, attended close to 100 births and she would be my second child. My son had been born at home almost 8 years before and although I could pick his birth apart and find fault with the experience, everything went quite well.

Elaya’s birth started out normally.  About 3:00 am I got up to pee and realized that I was having contractions.  Knowing it could still be awhile I didn’t tell anyone and went back to bed.  I wanted to relish in the experience by myself for awhile.  Around 10:30 am I told Dan I thought things were progressing but that it could still be many hours.  My water broke at 5:00 p.m.  There was some meconium in the water and I had a fleeting twinge of panic.  Heart tones were good and she was moving so I decided that we were safe to continue as planned.  Because the baby had not been engaged the last time that the midwife checked me, I asked Dan to phone and ask her to come over.  This was Dan’s first birth.  In his enthusiasm he misunderstood me and phoned everyone.  Within a fairly short time my midwife, the second, a close friend who was taking pictures and doing video and my sister arrived.  It was time to party!

Things weren’t happening as fast as I expected them to.  I wasn’t noticing the shifts that I had with my son’s birth.  I kept waiting for that sensation of needing to push.  Secretly I wished everyone would go away and leave me alone.  I was in and out of the pool, in and out of the shower and in and out of bed.  Everyone was alternately trying to give me space and renew my enthusiasm for the birth of this baby.

It was determined that the baby was a kneeling breech.  This explained why this labor didn’t feel at all the same as my first.  It also gave us information as to how much longer this birth might be and how patient we were going to have to be during the dilation phase. 

After many hours of attempting to encourage contractions to become more regular and effective with every means known to us I hit an emotional breaking point.  For the first time in my pregnancy I told someone about my deep fears for the baby.  I was afraid that there was something really wrong.  It was pointed out that if there had indeed been something the matter – it would have shown up on the ultrasound I had early in pregnancy.  Immediately my focus shifted, something needed to be done to get the baby out soon.  I was exhausted.  We were about 45 hours into labor. Although most of it had been quite easy, during the last few hours of pushing as hard as I could in many different positions without the baby moving down I had reached the end of my physical and emotional stamina.

With many tears and a deep-seated guilt I made the decision to transport.  We all knew that moving to the hospital at that time would guarantee a Cesarean Section, but it seemed the best decision.  I arrived at the hospital shortly before 1:00 am and was treated with open hostility by the doctor.  I was informed that due to the pediatrician shortages and strikes – he couldn’t guarantee that my baby would survive.  I knew that the heart rate had been good throughout labor, so I ignored him as best I could.

The sensation of being put out under general anesthetic was pure bliss.  I was no longer the one in control and responsible for the life of my child.  The pain had ended and I had been absolved. 

I awoke afterward shaking uncontrollably.  I was informed that this was a “natural reaction to the drugs” and was offered pain medication to help quell the trembling.  After a time I was told that I had a daughter, the pediatrician was with her and they thought she would be fine.  A girl?  As much as I dared hope for a daughter – I had prepared myself for another boy because I had thought my first one was a girl – and he most definitely was not!  A girl…

I was wheeled up to the nursery room window to see my baby.  A tiny little face in a bundle.  A girl?  Not that I could tell.  Mine?  Not as far as I knew.

Later I phoned friends and family.  It was a difficult task compounded by my feelings of inadequacy and shame.  I started with those closest to me – the ones I knew wouldn’t judge me because they loved me.  One of my friends said to me” You may be feeling fine about your decision to transport – to have the CS now – but eventually you probably won’t feel as positive about it and that’s okay.”  I dismissed this thinking “maybe if the CS had been thrust upon me I would feel this way – but I had made the decision – I was in control.  She’s wrong.”

There were unforeseen complications.  My daughter was diagnosed with an infection that they never cultured anything from.  She became very jaundiced due to a blood incompatibility.  She was required to stay in an isolette for several days.  We could put our hands in through the tiny little portals and touch her – but until she was three days old – no one could pick her up and hold her.  I will never forget the first time we held her.  We were told we had about 10 minutes.  My son and my partner were both there and I battled with the knowledge that they both needed to hold her also and the desire to keep her for myself and never let her go.  On day four I was given permission to nurse my baby for the first time.  I had been pumping and she received nothing but breast milk, but not directly from me.  She was amazing.  She latched on immediately and never looked back.  It was like she knew that as long as she was nursing they wouldn’t take her back to the nursery.  I had her lying in bed with me at night – and we would both be sound asleep until a nurse approached our room and she would begin to nurse again with vigor.

One day when she was about 6 months I was sitting on the bed writing in my journal as my wee one slept beside me.  I recall looking down at her and realizing that part of me wasn’t yet prepared to mother her.  In fact there was some part of me still waiting to give birth to her.  How could I possibly be the mother she deserved when I had failed her in her first stages of life? Was this what my friend had tried to warn me about?  Obviously. 

 A couple of weeks later 3 people asked me if I would be willing to help them work through their birth experiences. They were hoping to deal with the trauma they were battling with before bringing more babies into their lives.  I agreed quite readily.  As I began reading and formulating a plan of action I realized that I would have to deal with my own ordeal first. 

Almost 2 years later…

In stages I grieved the loss of the birth I had planned and accepted the birth that I had. I identified the many lessons buried within my experience and tried to find ways to implement changes into my life.

Elaya's birth was:

From her birth I learned:

I have witnessed Elaya’s strength, courage, beauty, and sweet acceptance from the beginning.  From her earliest days I knew I was privileged to know her.  I would go through much more than a Cesarean Section to be her mother.  Next time I shall birth her body as easily as I birthed her soul.  Tomorrow I shall release her again.  And again.  And again.  With love.  

Andree's Birth

August 19, 1990

Andree's story will be posted very soon!