My Planned Home Birth

Lifestyle

My Planned Home Birth

Reading time: 7 minutes

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My unmedicated, planned home birth as a first-time mom

 

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Saturday, June 29, 2024. It’s 5 a.m. The surges are more intense now than they were yesterday. Yesterday, they felt more like period cramps, and I could easily ignore them. Now, I have to use the breathing technique I’ve practiced over the last few months to get through them. My husband, Ola, wakes up and wraps his arms around me. We breathe together. Deep, slow breathing. Relief. We drift back to sleep.

 

Not long after (I’m not sure if it was 15 or 45 minutes), they’re back. Intense. We do the same. Deep, slow breathing together. Ola squeezes my hips, just like our midwife Maria showed us. Relief. We continue like this for a few hours. His calmness makes me feel safe. He doesn’t ask if we should call the midwife. We both know, without saying a word, that we still have some way to go.

 

We get up around 10 a.m. I have plans to meet my dear friend, Lene, in a few hours. Damn, I want to meet up, but this is uncharted territory. Probably not the best idea to head to a café if I end up going into labor today. But what if I’m stuck like this for three days? Everyone says it takes ages for first-time moms. Yes, I decide to keep the appointment. No, wait. Here they come again. Like waves through my body. Breathe. Deep. Slow.

 

I have to cancel my appointment.

 

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The surges intensify between 10 and 12 a.m. They’re stronger and more frequent. Ola starts inflating the birthing pool, which takes up half the living room floor. The hose we’re supposed to use to fill the pool from the shower doesn’t fit. “It’s okay,” he says, “we’ll just have to hold it in place while the water runs.” He stays calm, so I don’t get worked up about it. I’m so glad I married this wonderful man.

 

Text from my little sister. Don’t say labor has started. It could take days. “It seems like she’s on her way,” I manage to write. Do I believe that? Or is this a false alarm? No idea. All I know is that the surges are getting stronger and more frequent. Stay focused. Be in the moment.

 

I manage to eat half a smoothie bowl around noon. It feels good. A bit of energy. Damn, should I not have canceled with Lene? Oh yes, there they are again. Forget about it, Maroa. I grab my AirPods and the fitness ball, leaning forward with my arms on the ball while kneeling, and play the “Active Labor” episode from Built to Birth.

 

The surges come in powerful waves. Tears are streaming down my face. I drift in and out of consciousness. I can’t form a coherent sentence. After a while, I manage to say, “I think you should call the midwife.” Ola lifts my hair and looks at me, a bit of worry in his eyes: “Are you sure?”

 

Yes.

 

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I head to the bathroom. I want to try hot water on my lower back. I’m bent over at a 90-degree angle, while Ola holds the showerhead, letting the hot water run down my lower back. It feels good. Later, I learned that we stood there for nearly an hour. It felt like ten minutes.

 

Midwife Elisabeth arrives. My regular midwife, Maria, had to go to the hospital with her daughter. I’m glad I’ve met and spoken with Elisabeth before. Shortly after, midwife Petra and student midwife Helle arrive as well. While I’m lying in bed, the pool in the living room is being filled. Apparently, the hose didn’t work, so they’re using buckets and pots to fill it. (I was told that afterward).

 

Without warning, my breakfast comes back up again. I don’t manage to do anything. Ola cleans it up and changes the sheets. I feel calm and secure, even though I don’t feel I have control over my body. For a moment, I feel a deep sense of gratitude before drifting off again.

 

I notice a text from my mom: “How are you doing today, sweetheart? Dad and I were thinking of stopping by around 2 p.m.” I need to get Ola to reply. I need to get it off my mind so I can focus. He replies. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

 

“I’ve read in your birth plan that you don’t want unnecessary vaginal exams. We don’t need to do one if you don’t want to, but it could give us an indication of how far along you are.” It’s reassuring that Elisabeth has read my preferences and is checking in with me (even though I’m pretty out of it at this point). She tells me I’m around 6–7 cm dilated. After the birth, she told me it was closer to 8 cm, and she was surprised at how far along I was. She didn’t think it seemed like I was having such intense and frequent surges.

“I think you should get in the pool now, Maroa.”

 

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What should I wear during labor? Too much clothing will just get in the way if I’m giving birth in water. But being completely naked feels uncomfortable, doesn’t it? The thoughts that had been simmering before labor have vanished. The short top I had planned to wear in the pool is no longer an option after my breakfast incident. I can’t think of anything else at this point. So, I go with nothing.

 

The warm water is soothing. It feels good. Safe. Soft music plays in the background, the lights are dim, and the atmosphere is relaxed. The surges are intense, but they’re less frequent now that I’m in the pool. I’d read that can happen. It’s a relief to get a little break. If only for a moment.

 

Elisabeth suggests I try to eat something, maybe a cookie, to get a bit of energy for the final stage. Ola gives me a small bite of the raw cake I had baked for the birth. No, no, no. It crumbles in my mouth. Give me water—anything but that. I point to the Ritz cracker. That’s better, but one is enough. I manage two before another wave hits.

 

I’m on all fours. The water covers parts of my belly and lower body. Ola sits on a chair in front of me, holding me. I hold my hands around his arms. When a surge comes, I squeeze. He guides me: “Deep breath, slowly, slowly.” At the same time, Elisabeth squeezes my hips.

 

It eases. Slowly, but surely.

* * *

 

Elisabeth stays calm. She’s been checking the baby’s heartbeat regularly: Our daughter is doing well. “If it feels right to push, you can, Maroa.” At one point, I look up from the pool. Midwife Petra is sitting by the window, smiling: “You’re doing so amazing, Maroa.” Midwifery student Helle is right next to Ola, smiling too. Is this what true maternal care (with emphasis on care) feels like? It gives me confidence. Security. I can do this. A wave of gratitude fills me with energy.

 

Oh. Now it feels like she’s ready to come. I push. The first scream. Ring of fire.

 

I wasn’t sure if I’d know what the “ring of fire” would feel like, but I definitely did. The body’s natural way of telling you to wait. Don’t push more now. Give it time. Listen to your body. Trust it.

 

Three pushes and three screams later. “You can sit back now and take your baby, Maroa.” Elisabeth holds my hips and gently guides me back. It’s 5:25 p.m. I lift up our daughter and lean back against the pool edge. A moment I’ll never forget.

 

My water never broke, and our daughter is born with an intact amniotic sac. Elisabeth and Petra tell us that this is said to bring good fortune, as the baby carries all the nutrients from the amniotic fluid out. Elisabeth removes the sac, and our daughter opens her eyes for the first time and looks right at me.

 

Surreal. Magical.

 

Ola is sitting behind me, holding us both. Elisabeth, Petra, and Helle stand around the pool. Everyone is smiling. There’s so much joy. So much love.

 

We have just experienced a miracle.

 

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