This isn't an endorsement of Pampers--I love my cloth diapers--but it is pretty darn cool to see a very large, very mainstream company include home birth.
My google reader alerts are going haywire with the news of Gisele Bundchen's home water birth last December. She had a water birth in her penthouse apartment in Boston.
And of course there's the breathless reporting of how she's already back to her pre-baby body in just six weeks. People magazine reported: "Only weeks after giving birth to baby Benjamin, Gisele Bündchen is already back to work – and looking hot as ever....the new mom looked radiant, beautiful and as 'in shape as always, six weeks after the birth of her baby.'"
When I was at the gym this morning, I paged through a recent copy of Women's Health, which featured Ashlee Simpson's and other celebrities' secrets to getting your body back after a baby. They all talk about how they love to eat, how they don't stress about losing the weight...and I'm thinking yeah right, there's no way you can go back to your impossibly slim figure without a crazy amount of exercise and food restriction! At least have the honesty to tell us how much effort goes into taming your newly postpartum body back to its former shape and size--one that most American women can't attain in the first place.
Birth stories usually begin when labor starts. With Zari’s birth, labor began fairly unmistakably (although I didn’t admit that to myself until halfway through) and 10 hours later I had a baby.
With Dio’s birth, I could say labor began at any number of points: on Saturday morning, when I began to have painful, though sporadic, contractions that felt better if I moved through them. On Saturday night at midnight, when I first saw bloody show and had labor diarrhea. On Sunday morning before church, when the contractions seemed more consistent and required that I sway my hips through them. Or on Sunday late morning while Eric and Zari were away at church, when the contractions became undeniably intense and I knew that labor was definitely happening.
I’ll start my story, though, at 7 am on Sunday morning, when I finally let myself get out of bed and stop ignoring the contractions. I rocked on the birth ball, checked my email, and wrote a blog post wondering if I was in labor or not. I called the midwife to let her know I’d been feeling something kind of like labor contractions for the past 24 hours and that I had bloody show and diarrhea at midnight. I told her not to be surprised either way; maybe things would pick up, but maybe not.
Then I got ready for church, since I was not at all convinced that I was really in labor. I was dressed from head to toe—earrings, necklace, nice shirt and skirt, and my oh-so-sexy thigh-high compression hose—and ready to head out the door. Eric looked at me circling my hips through every contraction and said, “Rixa, I really think you should stay home.” I admitted I probably would make a bit of a scene at church, because I had to move through the contractions at this point. So I sent him and Zari off at quarter to nine with the assurance that I’d call him if I needed anything. After all, he was only two minutes away.
Eric got asked a million questions when he and Zari showed up without me. I didn’t think it at all strange to send them off while I was (maybe?) in labor, but I guess some people at church did!
Since I was playing hooky from church, I figured I’d devote some time to meditating and reading about spiritual matters. So I sat at the computer, reading and rocking on my birth ball. Eric called periodically to check in with me while he was at church. After the first call around 10:15 am, I could still talk through contractions. When he called again an hour later, things were getting really intense.
For fun I timed contractions on Contraction Master—another first, since I never timed them during Zari’s labor--and they were always at least a minute long. That surprised me; they seemed much shorter than that. They became closer together during the hour or two when I was timing them. They started out at 5-6 minutes apart and were less than 4 minutes apart by 12:30 pm.
I loved having the time at home alone. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny spring morning. The house was quiet. I had time to slowly gather my supplies and put everything in order: eat snacks and drink juice, go to the bathroom multiple times, do laundry, and get things ready upstairs in the birth room.
Eric and Zari came home shortly after noon. He fed Zari lunch and put her down for a nap. At this point I was starting to lose my desire to eat, even though I was still a bit hungry. I tried eating a bite of the morel mushroom dish we had made the night before. Nope. Not interested. I’ve discovered a new way to tell if you’re in labor: when even morel mushrooms don’t taste good, you know it’s the real thing!
Like during Zari’s labor, I had to stand during contractions, leaning over a table or counter, and sway my hips. I would put much of my weight on my arms and dip my hips back and forth in a big U shape, or rock them from side to side. I breathed in and out deeply, exhaling a deep, silent haaaaaaaaa or whooooooo or yeoooow. I circled my head back and forth. I felt contractions in the same place as my first labor: low down above my pubic bone from hip to hip. They were like sharp, knifelike menstrual cramps.
Labor was really picking up. I started filling the tub when Eric came home, knowing it would take at least an hour and a half until it was ready. I also noticed that familiar endorphin rush: a dizzy, spinney, floaty feeling.
I called the midwife around 1 pm and let her know I was definitely in labor. I wasn’t quite ready for her to come over yet, but I would call when I was. I called her back at 1:30 pm and said “come over—I don’t want to think any longer about when to call you!”
By this time, labor was crazy intense, more than Zari’s labor ever was. I started feeling flushed and dizzy and shaky. I also started feeling discouraged and overwhelmed. I wanted it to stop. I didn’t want to do this any more. I really understood, for the first time, why women take drugs in labor. To know that someone or something can just make it go away is almost irresistibly seductive. That’s one of the reasons I don’t put myself in an environment where I have that option, because I know that I really don’t want it to go away and I know that I can do it. I recognized that these were all classic signs of transition. I remember thinking, if this isn’t really transition, I am screwed.
Once Zari was sleeping, Eric helped me get some last things ready: filling the birth pool the second time, bringing any last supplies upstairs, pulling off my compression hose. I was still dressed from head to toe in my church clothes at this point! I took off my necklace and earrings and my Hypnobabies mp3s, which I had been listening to on and off. He gave me a blessing, which was specific and very reassuring that my body was healthy made to do this, that I would be able to give birth to this baby. When I was pushing and wondering if I wanted to check myself for dilation/progress, I recalled the blessing and thought, nope, not necessary, I know everything is working as it should be.
Shortly before 2 pm, I had a contraction while leaning over the entryway table. I heard that familiar catch in the back of my throat and felt some rectal pressure. I had an urge to drop down on my knees. Oh great. I knew what was coming next—pushing—and I wasn’t all that excited. I don’t like pushing. Sure, it means the baby will be here soon, but for me pushing doesn’t feel better. It feels worse!
Eric suggested we head upstairs, which was really a brilliant idea. I’m not sure I would have made it up because I was still in the “I hope I am really in active labor and not deluding myself” headspace. I got dressed in my bikini, top and bottom. Not sure what I was thinking when I put the bottoms on, since I had to pull them off a few contractions later. You can see them floating behind me in the pool in several of the pictures.
The tub was full but way too hot, so we pumped out some water and added more cold until it was pleasantly lukewarm. It was warm upstairs, about 80 degrees, and the water felt heavenly. It did take the edge off the first contraction (which mas the last real labor-only contraction). I knelt in the tub, facing outward and leaning my elbows on the edge.
The midwife arrived a bit after 2 pm. I started having pushy contractions, each one more and more pushy and less and less labor-y. She took heart tones, then left us alone for a little bit. As soon as the pushy contractions hit, I needed something to grab onto. I asked Eric to kneel down on the floor facing me. I grabbed both of his forearms, like we were double arm wrestling, and held on for dear life as my body began pushing.
I had an almost irresistible urge to bite on something during the contractions. Eric was very, very lucky that I didn’t chomp down on his arms. Twilight moment averted.
More pushing, more rectal pressure, more grunting and vocalizations. The midwife came back in the room. My water broke. Another first—I never noticed it breaking during Zari’s labor (it did at some point, of course, since she didn’t come out in the caul). I said, “my water just broke!” I looked down and saw specks of vernix floating gently downward in the water. The baby’s head descended rapidly. When I felt it hit my perineum, I slapped my right hand down to support my tissues while maintaining a death grip on Eric’s arm with my left hand. As I was doing this, this passage from Gloria Lemay’s article Midwife’s Guide to an Intact Perineum flashed through my mind:
The next distinct feeling is a burning, pins-and-needles feeling at the opening of the vagina. Many women describe this as a “ring of fire” all around the vaginal opening. It is instinctive to slap your hand down on the now-bulging vulva and try to control where the baby’s head is starting to emerge. This instinct should be followed. It seems to really help to have your own hands there.
I felt something really funky—a large blob or bubble of tissue sticking out in the front. Behind it was the familiar oval slit of the vagina with a bit of wrinkly baby head. I said, “something feels funny.” The midwife asked if it felt wrinkly, assuming I was referring to the sometimes surprisingly soft folds of the baby’s scalp as it first crowns. No, I felt that, too. This was something else. I poked and pinched it gently, hoping it wasn’t some part of my anatomy that was coming out with the baby! Then I figured it out—it was a little bubble of amniotic sac. I pressed it a little harder, and it deflated. (In a video right after the birth, you can see me telling Eric and the midwife what that “funny thing” was).
With each contraction, the head emerged more and more. I applied counterpressure to the head, varying the pressure between the front and back depending on where I felt more pressure and stinging. As much as crowning, and pushing in general, was wild and crazy and painful, it was amazingly cool to once again support my baby’s head as it emerged out of my body. There’s nothing like feeling your baby’s head come out, bit by bit, into the palm of your hand. Every woman deserves that experience.
The midwife listened to heart tones once more (they were always great with lots of variability), then began taking pictures, for which I was very grateful. I had wanted to also film the birth, but things went too quickly to get the camcorder set up. I was really vocalizing: grunting, growling, panting, and lots of other sounds that don’t really have a name. All totally instinctive and spontaneous.
Then that glorious feeling of the baby’s head emerging fully. No pause between the head and body this time, just a great spiraling sensation as the baby’s body emerged. I looked down as its body was halfway out and saw a face, eyes wide open, looking up at me through the water. I grabbed the baby, its body still slipping out of mine, and lifted it gently out of the water. It was about 2:33 pm—we all forgot to look at the clock, so the time of birth is our best guess—and I had only been pushing in earnest for 15 or 20 minutes.
You can see the bottom half of his face at the very top of the photo.
The baby seemed impossibly tiny to me. I said something about it being so small. It began crying right away, and I caressed its smooth body.
By this time Eric was filming. I took a peek between its legs and found that we had a boy!
I sent Eric down to wake Zari up from her nap and meet her new brother. He came back alone, unable to wake her up.
Note: click on "HD" and maximize the screen to see the videos in high-def!
The cord was a bit on the short side and the water wasn’t overly warm, so I got out probably 5 or 10 minutes after the birth. We snuggled in bed with a towel over me and Dio. He cried for a few minutes, then calmed down and began opening up his eyes.
Eric helped me sit up a bit more so he could nurse.
The midwife left us alone, as we had discussed beforehand. I don’t remember seeing her again until we asked her to come up about an hour after the birth to help cut the cord. Eric was finally able to wake Zari up at 3:30 pm. She touched Dio, hesitantly at first. One of the first things she said was, “he has little tiny ears.”
Note: this video shows a few seconds of bare breast, so be warned!
We cut the cord and I asked if the placenta was detached. It was, so the midwife encouraged me to bear down a bit as she held onto the cord. It came out with a few pushes. The assistant took the placenta and collected some cord blood with a syringe, to check the baby’s Rh factor. I handed the baby over to Eric and Zari and took a quick shower. The midwife weighed and measured Dio and did a newborn exam. Everything was perfect. She checked me for tears. I had two periurethral tears, but they were perfectly straight and approximated, no stitches needed. No perineal tears and just a tiny skidmark inside my vagina. Yay! My bottom feels great, besides the normal after-birth tenderness and some minor stinging when I pee.
The next few hours were spent snuggling, admiring the baby, and ingesting large quantities of food and juice. I am always ravenous right after I have a baby. The midwife and her assistant were busy doing laundry, cleaning up, and heating up food for me to eat. They left around 5 pm with smiles and well-wishes. The midwife said to me laughingly, “this birth will really make you wonder why you didn’t go unassisted!” since she really didn’t do much midwifey stuff at all, except check heart tones and examine me and the baby a while after the birth. But that was exactly what I had wanted and what we had talked about beforehand, so I assured her that it was just perfect. And it was.
I have no regrets about anything, nothing I’d nit-pick over and wish I’d done differently. (Okay, except I wish I had filmed the birth, but that doesn’t really count!) The midwife's presence didn’t disturb me or interrupt my labor at all, and I was very glad she was there to take pictures. I also loved having the postpartum help with cleaning and food. The timing of everything worked out perfectly—having the quiet time alone in the morning, Zari napping during the most intense part of labor when I really needed Eric around, the midwife arriving just as I began pushing.
A few hours old
Some final comments:
Faster does not mean easier. Although this birth went more quickly than Zari’s, if you count from when labor really kicked into gear, it was not necessarily any easier. In fact, I’d say that it was much more challenging and intense, both physically and mentally, than my first birth. I skipped the classic transition phase the first time around, but during this labor it really hit me.
Posterior? I don’t think Dio was posterior during labor. Heart tones indicated he was always ROT, as he had been during the last several weeks of pregnancy. I also felt no back labor at all. What the midwife and I think happened is that he stayed ROT during the whole labor and spun posterior at the very end, as he barreled down through the pelvis. It’s a lot faster to go from ROT to OP than to spin the other way around! I didn’t look down until after his head and half his body were out, so I can’t say for sure whether the head itself came out OP, or just rotated that way after it had emerged.
Denial is your best friend in labor. I could have easily exhausted myself, both physically and psychologically, if I had paid too much attention to my contractions. I almost didn’t go to bed on Saturday night because the contractions were quite strong and painful and because I was seeing bloody show, which had signaled the start of labor when I was pregnant with Zari. Making myself stay in bed and sleep, if only fitfully between contractions, was a lifesaver. Because I did this, labor only seemed to begin some time between 10 and 11 am on Sunday. I could technically claim to have been in labor for 28+ hours, or 14+ hours from the onset of bloody show. But instead, labor lasted between 3 ½ and 4 ½ hours long in my mind. Much easier to integrate and work through!
Last night I tried out my 1000 Watt bucket heater in a 5-gallon pail to see how well it worked as a supplemental water heater. It's advertised to heat 1 gallon of 60-degree water to 130 degrees in 10 minutes. The bucket heater has an automatic shut-off if it's accidentally taken out of the water while still plugged in. It will also cycle on and off once the water level drops below 5 1/2." But if immersed in a full bucket of water, it will eventually bring the water to boiling. I filled the bucket to within 3" of the top with cold tap water, plugged the heater in, and set a timer. Here's the breakdown for heating a full 5-gallon pail:
At 10 minutes, the water was lukewarm
At 20 minutes, the water was hot and steaming--hotter than I would like for a bath, but not painful. I could keep my hand in it comfortably.
At 30 minutes, the water was so hot that I could only dip my finger in for a second. At this point I unplugged the heater, although it will bring the water to boiling if you leave it in long enough.
The verdict? I don't think I will need to use it, since it takes my 30-gallon water tank just under an hour to reheat. However, it would be a convenient alternative to boiling pots of water on the stove. You can fill the bucket (with the pool's hose) & heat the water right next to the pool. All you need is an electrical outlet.
I don't know if 5-gallon plastic buckets release chemicals when they're filled with hot water. Would a PETE (food-safe) bucket be safer than a regular one you can get at a home improvement store? I don't know, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to use one. You can ask for used frosting buckets at the cake decorating departments in grocery stores. Chinese restaurants often have 5-gallon food-safe pails, originally filled with soy sauce or vegetable oil.
It would be interesting to heat identical volumes of water on a stovetop and in a bucket heater and compare which is faster. If someone ever does that experiment, please let me know!
A common question among women planning to use a birth pool in labor is how to heat enough water to fill the pool reasonably quickly, and then maintain the water temperature once the pool is full. Most of us here in North America have 30-50 gallon tank water heaters, rather than the tankless gas heaters that much of Europe uses, so we run out of hot water before the pool is full. This is especially challenging if you're using an inflatable pool, rather than one that comes with a built-in heater.
Rather than boiling pots of water on the stove and then hauling them to the birth pool, I have come up with another solution that is portable, fast, and relatively inexpensive. You will need a 5-gallon bucket (plastic or metal), an electric outlet (preferably close to your birth pool), and a bucket heater (the kind used to heat water for livestock tanks). You can find these at a vet/livestock supply store.
These heaters are quick and powerful; they will bring the water to a boil if left in the bucket long enough. This definitely beats boiling water on the stove in relatively small pots and then hauling it to the birth room. Instead, you just put your bucket & bucket heater right near the birth pool, plug it in, and you're good to go!
You must read Jill's recent post, which was spurred by her seeing an image of a heavily draped woman, legs splayed apart in stirrups, about to give birth. She concludes her narrative with a drawing of her recent birth, a HBAC (home birth after cesarean). She writes:
I'm not just catching the baby, I'm also protecting my vagina. I'm in a sacred circle, just me, no one else. The midwives are there, but I didn't draw them, because they weren't inside my circle. My hand is there guarding the gate to this world. Nobody else interferes. In fact the only time anyone other than me touched my vagina during labor was right after I started pushing, to make sure I was fully dilated. Just one time, and permission was asked, and granted. And I knew all along that my vagina wasn't broken, but I proved it right then. I didn't need anybody's help. I didn't need drugs or monitors or scalpels to get my baby out. Just my vagina. Yup, mine.
I love this drawing. I've been searching for inspiration for a new silk painting to create during this pregnancy, and I think I've found it! (If that's okay with you Jill.)
What's better than buying or renting a birth pool? Getting one for free!
My sister-in-law had her fifth baby almost two weeks ago. Her local hospital provides La Bassine pools for laboring in (and accidental water births, which is what happened to my SIL--she got in the pool and her baby was born 4 minutes later!). When they were getting ready to leave, the midwife said something about "taking your birth pool home." It turns out they give you the birth tub and all of the accessories after your birth! So she is lending it all to me: the pool and the Deluxe accessory kit (hose, electric air pump, faucet adapter, "Y" adapter, thermometer, plastic floor cover, debris net, mirror, & instructions). How awesome is that?
When I had Zari, we had an oversized Jacuzzi tub in our master bathroom, so I didn't have to worry about buying or renting a birth pool. This time, though, we don't have a single bathtub in our whole house! So now I am faced with a huge array of choices, from a cheap fishy pool to a rented birth pool with a heater and jets. I want something big and deep enough that I can move about freely, stretch out, and be fully immersed up to my chest. But if I get one that is too big, it might take too long to fill, since our water heater is only 30 gallons.
We've been wanting to install a tankless water heater, probably a Rinnai. If we do that, then we'll have limitless hot water so the tub size will be less of an issue. I'd also love a tankless heater so that I can stay in the shower for hours and hours if I feel like it.
Here are my possible choices from cheapest to most expensive:
1) $22 fishy pool (60 x 22" exterior, 106 gallons) 2) $35 Sevylor round I-beam pool (60 x 22" exterior, 72 gallons) 3) $67 Sevylor oval I-beam pool (100 x 68 x 21" exterior, 186 gallons) I actually think this oval one would be too big--it's bigger even than the large Birth Pool in a Box (see below). It's more like a swimming pool than a tub. See how big it is with adults inside: 4) $110 La Bassine birthing pool: I-beam construction, oval rather than round, has inside handles (65 x 53 x 25" exterior, 53" x 41" x 22" interior, 100 gallons) 5) $190 Birth Pool In A Box: this is a really large inflatable pool, with a built-in seat. It's large enough to comfortably fit two adults, unlike the other pools. (76 x 65" x 28" exterior, 56 x 45 x 26" interior, 172 gallons). There's also a mini version that's roughly the same size as La Bassine--a bit shorter and deeper. (65 x 57 x 28" exterior, 45 x 37 x 26" interior, 127 gallons). Then, of course, you can get into the rental birth pools such as the AquaDoula ($250 to rent). I've attended lots of AquaDoula births and while I like that it has a heater, I don't like the narrow rim. Often women want to drape themselves over the edge or rest their head, and an inflatable pool is much more comfortable than the AquaDoula for that.
Although I love the price of the round Sevylor, I am leaning more towards La Bassine because it is a bit bigger and longer. I still wonder if even La Bassine would be big enough for me. I am 5'8"--not extraordinarily tall but not petite either. I like I-beam construction far more than stacked rings. On an aesthetic note, I love the deep transparent blue of the Sevylor and La Bassine.
So, your advice is very much needed, especially if you've actually used one of these many options (or something else I haven't thought of yet!).
Just a few waterbirth videos I've come across recently.
This first one, linked from Bellies and Babies, takes place in St. Thomas Hospital in London.
The second one is a home waterbirth/Hypnobirth. Thanks to one of my commentors for posting the link--I hope you don't mind me re-posting it here!
The last video is a home waterbirth of twins that took place in Australia with Lisa Barrett, (whom I greatly admire). Lisa is a UK-trained midwife who now practices independently in Austraila. I couldn't embed the video directly onto this post, so you'll have to go to Lisa's site to see it.
I've heard good things about the La Bassine waterbirth pool, but the price tag can be prohibitive for women on a strict budget. I found a similar inflatable pool for about half the price, the Sevylor Electra Round.
Similarities: Both have upright I-beams and an inflatable floor.
Differences. The Sevyor holds 72 gallons, La Bassine 100 gallons. The Sevyor is round, rather than slightly oval, and doesn't have handles inside.
This might be a good alternative for people wanting something a bit more sturdy than your standard fishy pool. Sometimes the horizontal rings give way under pressure, creating a lovely flood in the living room. Not fun.
For twenty plus years WBI and Barbara Harper have been guiding mothers and their providers, providing education and birth pools all over the world. Waterbirth International is facing the very difficult truth that the Gentle Birth World Congress--a fabulous success in every way for international and local attendees--drained all of our resources. We may have to close the doors permanently by January 31st. We need to raise $200,000 in donations to cover the debts from the Congress.
With such a large sum to raise, we need each of you to support this cause. When you support waterbirth, you are making a statement that you want and need options, choices and more control.
Can you help us stay open to take the next phone call?
- to convince the an obstetrician to incorporate waterbirth into his/her practice.
- to work with the nurse midwives to install pools in their facilities.
- to educate an entire hospital on the benefits of allowing women freedom of movement in the water.
We have freely given these services over the past 20 years. We want to continue to give them freely, but we need your help to keep the phones turned on and the volunteers working.
How much is it worth to see waterbirth become the norm in the US, like it is in the UK? I think we only need a few more years to make that happen.
Women really do want waterbirth to be an available choice in every hospital. They need choices now, more than ever.
If we need to call every single waterbirth parent personally, we will. We don't want 25 years of pioneering work to end and the vision of safe and beautiful waterbirth to go away. Please do the following:
~DONATE any amount you can
~Become a MEMBER of Waterbirth International
~Buy a birth pool for your local midwives
~Buy a birth pool for yourself
~Buy a birth video and donate it to your local library
~Spread the word around the world
~Post this message on other sites and blogs
I filled the bucket to within 3" of the top with cold tap water, plugged the heater in, and set a timer. Here's the breakdown for heating a full 5-gallon pail:
2) $35 Sevylor round I-beam pool (60 x 22" exterior, 72 gallons)
3) $67 Sevylor oval I-beam pool (100 x 68 x 21" exterior, 186 gallons)
I actually think this oval one would be too big--it's bigger even than the large Birth Pool in a Box (see below). It's more like a swimming pool than a tub. See how big it is with adults inside:
4) $110 La Bassine birthing pool: I-beam construction, oval rather than round, has inside handles (65 x 53 x 25" exterior, 53" x 41" x 22" interior, 100 gallons)
5) $190 Birth Pool In A Box: this is a really large inflatable pool, with a built-in seat. It's large enough to comfortably fit two adults, unlike the other pools. (76 x 65" x 28" exterior, 56 x 45 x 26" interior, 172 gallons). 
There's also a mini version that's roughly the same size as La Bassine--a bit shorter and deeper. (65 x 57 x 28" exterior, 45 x 37 x 26" interior, 127 gallons).
Then, of course, you can get into the rental birth pools such as the AquaDoula ($250 to rent). I've attended lots of AquaDoula births and while I like that it has a heater, I don't like the narrow rim. Often women want to drape themselves over the edge or rest their head, and an inflatable pool is much more comfortable than the AquaDoula for that.
