Natural childbirth: the verdict

For those who don't know, Leigh and I opted for a homebirth, mostly because the thought of going to a hospital filled me with anxiety, and I really wanted to bring my baby into the world in the most natural way possible. We were successful - even after a nearly 30-hour labor, I was able to stay at home, and he was delivered in our bedroom with the help of a midwife and her assistant.

Would I do it again?

I honestly don't know. My midwife says it's too soon for me, the pain too fresh in my mind. But I can say this:

1. Don't bother thinking that you can have a natural childbirth in a hospital. If I'd been in a hospital, I would have had the epidural, I'm sure of it.

2. Likewise, if you're really set on having a labor without pain medication, do it at home. Being in a familiar place with the ability to eat, move around, take a shower, etc. made it a lot easier.

We took a hypnobirthing class to prepare, and I think it really helped. We didn't use all of the techniques, but enough of them. And Leigh was an amazing birth companion - for all his bitching about the fruity hypnobirthing class, he provided what I needed, making sure I ate, rested and drank lots of fluids, holding me up when I thought my knees would buckle ...



So here's the play by play:

Friday, Oct. 16

5 p.m. Left my friend Johanna's house with mildly uncomfortable contractions about every 10 minutes apart. It's showtime.

10 p.m. My mom calls from a cab - she's on her way from LAX. I tell her it's official, I'm in labor. By this time, the contractions are getting more intense, about every 7 minutes apart but no real consistency. I never had any of those delicious sounding 15- to 30-second contractions; they were at least 1 minute long right from the get-go. I listen to "Rainbow Relaxation" and use 20-count slow breathing to get through them.

Saturday, Oct. 17

Midnight - 4 a.m. Yowza. How bad are these going to get? I'm thinking I must be dilated to at least 5 or 6 cm. I really want to call my midwife, but it's the middle of the night, so I watch the clock and tell myself to just make it until 5:30 a.m. It's a decent enough hour to wake a household.

5:30 a.m. I call Mary Lou, the midwife, and tell her I'm having pretty intense contractions, but they're still not in a regular pattern. Some come every 5 minutes, then 2 minutes, then 7 minutes, and then sometimes, they seemed to back off entirely. I ask her how I can get them going again, and she tells me to relax and look at the slow periods as an opportunity to rest, eat and gear up for the next phase. Not what I wanted to hear.

5:30 a.m.-8 a.m. Amazingly, I discover, your body will let you sleep between contractions. It seems crazy, but I was able to breathe through a minute of the worst pain in my life, then immediately fall asleep for 3 or 5 minutes, before gearing up for another pain interval. Now I understand what Mary Lou was talking about.

9 a.m. Mary Lou comes by to check me. Everyone's rooting for a big number. She smiles and tells me I'm 100% effaced (good, good), he's at a +2 station (excellent, give me more...) and I'm about 3 cm. Whoa. Letdown. But Mary Lou is encouraging, she tells me I'm making great progress and to call her if something changes.

12:30 p.m. The Gator game comes on. Between contractions, I bitch about how shitty we're playing. Honestly, it's the first time I don't care if the Gators win. A 4-hour game goes by in 10 minutes.

4 p.m. My mother calls Mary Lou and tells her I'm getting very intense contractions. It feels like they're coming right on top of one another, but when we time them, they're still not consistent, at best 2 minutes apart. Mary Lou talks to me, I sound too relaxed (mental note: next time, throw in a few moans). She tells me to keep it up, keep laboring and call back if my water breaks or the pressure changes.

8:30 p.m. I call Mary Lou and tell her: "I need you to come check me. And if you tell me I'm 4 cm, I'm going to the hospital."

9 p.m. Mary Lou arrives. She checks me and pronounces me almost 9 cm. I cry with relief, and Mary Lou gives me a big hug. She calls her assistant to get the room ready for a birth. There's an end in sight, and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes.

10 p.m. Mary Lou advises that I walk around to get that last centimeter and to bring the baby down. Standing through contractions is ridiculously painful, but I'm motivated to get this whole process over and done with. I walk. During contractions, I lean on Leigh for support.

10:40 p.m. Mary Lou checks me again and says I'm ready to push. I have no idea what I'm doing, and the whole thing is rather awkward, but everyone is shouting encouragement, so I keep at it. In hypnobirthing, you're supposed to "breathe your baby down," but I say fuck it and go into workout mode, using pure brute strength to push him out.

11:29 p.m. Welcome, Grant.