Ella's birth photos, Part 2

All photos courtesy of Amanda at A.R.T. Photography.  Check out her beautiful website or visit the Facebook page.

Ella's Birth Story

Waiting to go into labor for the sixth time, I tried to be patient...and I think overall I succeeded.  Over the years I have learned that my babies come later than they do for many women, and I've made an uneasy peace with that.  And yet as that 40 weeks mark drew near, I couldn't help but wonder if this might be the birth that would surprise us all - might this baby be a little more eager to leave my womb?

The answer to that question was "no."  And although I started having more and more regular contractions around 37 weeks, the time went on and still my baby remained comfortably tucked away.  I sighed and wished things were different, but I reminded myself regularly that our babies have always come when they were ready, and the healthy, smooth labors and births have always been worth the wait...and of course, the healthy baby.

On Friday night, when I was 41 weeks and 3 days, my husband and I turned in early.  We'd been trying to do that as often as possible, since we well remembered how difficult it could be to be labor while exhausted.  Our last two babies had been evening births after an afternoon of labor, but who could say how this one would go?

Two hours later I awoke to the sensation of a warm spurt of wetness between my legs.  I slipped out of bed and got the testing strips my midwife had given me.  Was this amniotic fluid?  The amount and the fact that my testing strip turned blue led me to believe that it was.  A few minutes later I climbed back into bed to wait.  Would contractions start soon?  They did, and with a tinge of intensity which had been missing from the previous few weeks' warm-up.  Still, they weren't too painful yet, so I tried to rest.  My husband Jeff sensed that something was afoot, and although I encouraged him to go back to sleep, he wanted to know what was going on.  Before very long we decided to call my midwife Katherine, to let her know what was going on.  After all, this was our sixth birth - and her instructions said to call her immediately if the waters broke.  We decided that I would call her back when things were more exciting.  I also called my friend Michele, who was planning to join us for the labor in the role of a doula.  She had a 2-3 hour drive to get to our house, so I wanted to give her plenty of time. Around 1:30 AM we called Jeff's parents, who would come for the birth and to watch over our children.  During all this time I continued to have contractions at 9-10 minutes apart (some a bit closer), the low, crampy variety.  I also began to experience loose bowels -- a signal that birth is in the not-too-distant future -- which was to continue through early afternoon.

Michele arrived around 3:00 AM, and my in-laws not too long after that.  And then one of my great labor-fears came true: things petered out.  My contractions grew irregular and less noteworthy, and by 6:00 AM things seemed to have pretty much stopped.  We tried a variety of different techniques to get things rolling again - massage, essential oils, lunges.  And Jeff and I rested a bit here and there.  I talked to my midwife again around 6:00 AM, and then I slipped into the bathroom to shower.  I felt so discouraged at that moment.  What was going on?  Why had my labor stalled?  Had we called everyone here for nothing?  I was horrified.  What had I done?

Katherine came over mid-morning to talk things over.  She felt confident that I was going to have the baby that day, but I wasn't so sure.  I needed to be in labor for that to happen, and at that moment I had nothing going on.  Katherine did a cervical check (I was at 3 cm) and at my request swept my membranes.  We discussed various other ways to get things going: using a breast pump, castor oil.  She ended up going by her office to pick up these things for me to have as resources, and then she left for a while, still feeling positive.  I ate lunch, did a couple of rounds with the Pump In Style, and took a few short naps.  I was having contractions again, but they felt tentative, as if any little change might startle them away.  I felt pretty low; if it was happening any time soon, it was going so slowly.  We were already operating on very little sleep and the day was passing by.  I felt desperate to do something.  

I must stop here and say that I had no pressure from those around me.  My in-laws were cheerfully taking care of the kids (and doing household chores!).  My husband, though weary, was being sweet and supportive.  My doula seemed tirelessly patient in her care for me.  My midwife was cheerful and upbeat.  

But I needed to do something.  And so I did something I have never been tempted to do, something I never imagined myself doing.

I took castor oil.

I don't know if this qualifies as impatient or brave.  Regardless, I felt sure that's what I wanted to do, and even now I don't regret it.  It wasn't horrible, and much to my surprise I had absolutely no digestive side effects.  My dose was small (1 Tablespoon), as per Katherine's instructions.  Almost immediately I began having more regular contractions.  This was encouraging...but two hours later I made the decision (sanctioned by my midwife!) to take another tablespoon.  And this was when things really perked up.  Strong contractions, although not very lengthy, were coming closer and closer together.

I was overjoyed!  I clung to my husband during the surges, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning into his masculine body.  I dropped to my knees and leaned on my birth ball.  I vocalized over and over with low tones of "ohh" and "ahh."  My children began to wander upstairs to quietly check in with me, and my 3-year-old daughter was adoringly attentive to my needs.  I called my birth photographer Amanda, and gave her a head's up...then not too long after that, I called again and asked her to come on over.  Things were happening!  My midwife was on her way again to my house, my body was back on track.  This was it.  This was it!

And it really was.  By the time my midwife arrived, the tub was filled and I was so incredibly ready to get in.  The candles were lit, Michele had something wonderful in the essential oils diffuser, and the birth affirmations I'd placed around the bathroom were ready to encourage me.  I got into the tub around 7:45 PM, immediately sinking into the warm relief of the water.  I breathed deeply, and as the power of the contractions grew stronger, I listened to the voices around encouraging me.  "Deep breaths, that's it..."  "You're doing great, you can do this." "Just imagine yourself floating over the contractions..."   Hands stroked my forehead. My husband massaged my legs.  And I floated, now firmly in labor land, the land of increasing intensity, of more and more powerful contractions and the strength women draw from within for the task at hand.  I was taking each contraction as it came, telling myself that each surge brought me closer to meeting my baby - my baby!  Because that's what this was all about: this day, this journey, this series of pains.  It was about my baby.  Bringing my baby earthside.  Closer, closer...

My sweet little doula-daughter was back at my side, fresh from a bath of her own.  She continued with her gentle ministrations; her ever-present smile inspired me to press on. 

And then it was time to push.  Pushing, that most hated part of labor.  The most intense, the most painful, the most uncontrollable.  But I was ready.

Even so, I took it slow, waiting for the undeniable cues from my body, pushing during the contraction and waiting to let the tissues stretch.    And then I heard my husband say that he could see the head, and I reached down and ...amazing.  What motivation to feel that little head, to know how close my precious one was, so close!  

A few loud pushes later, I felt her leave my body.  Her daddy caught her in the water, and I soon held her to my chest...my baby.  Here.  Together we discovered that God had sent our family a little girl, and we shared her name with those around us.  Ella Sharon.  A beautiful, perfect, healthy baby girl.  

The other children drifted into the room, and we sang our daughter her lullaby. I wept as I reveled in our happiness; we are so happy and blessed by this indescribable gift!

Ella Sharon

8 lb, 2 oz

20.5 inches

December 28, 2013

8:50 PM

the boy who made me a mama

Happy Birthday to my Benjamin, the boy who made me a mama.  It's hard to believe that he is 11 years old today, and yet he shows us more responsibility and consideration every day.  We are so thankful for this boy, and we thank God for him every single day!

If you'd like to read Ben's birth story, click HERE. 

why my kids are invited to the birth

My husband and I are planning another home waterbirth for this baby's arrival.  Our past birth experiences have been wonderful.  Four of our five children were born at home, and all five had gentle waterbirths.   We love the freedom of being in our own space, with people who trust the birth process - and yet are trained to deal with problems as they arise, too.  

(photos taken in 2010 are not an accurate reflection of how tidy my bathroom is at present)

It is so nice to be home for all of this - such a comfort to only be able to sleep in my own bed afterward, to know my children are being cared for nearby...and to not have make that horrible drive while in labor! Once we switched to homebirth, we knew we didn't want to go back.

When I first began to consider having my child/children present in the birthing room, I was unsure.  Would it be weird?  Would I scar my son for ever?  Would the things he saw and heard frighten him?  I don't remember an actual decision being made when our second child was born.  Our oldest was not yet three years old, my labor was during the night, and the baby was born in the wee small hours of the morning.   We asked Jeff's parents to wake our toddler up to meet his new brother, and that was that.  

But after that point, I'd really started to consider inviting my children to be present for our births.  When I was expecting baby #3, our oldest was five years old,  and he asked to be there - but once again it was very, very early in the morning, so we let him sleep.

The next time was a little different, though.  When I went into labor with my daughter (aka baby #4), it was the afternoon, and she ended up being born in early evening.  The timing was perfect - I hadn't been laboring all through the night, and right about the time all the excitement died down and the baby dozed off, it was bedtime.  But even better than that?  My boys got to be there.  

Yes, they were there, all lined up beside the tub like stair-steps.  They'd been floating back and forth between the birthing room and the family room, but they were summoned (by the birth team or by my sounds?  I'll never know.) at the end and they were able to see their sister enter the world.

It was beautiful.  And then they went off to bed.  

When my youngest child was born, the two oldest boys were there again (the others were already in bed).  You may remember that they were very attentive to me, and played a role in my support team.  That made a big impression on this mama.

So here are my reasons to inviting the children to attend the birth of the wee one.  In no particular order:

~I've been told that most kids do fine at a birth, as long as they want to be there.  

We would never force our kids to be present while I was laboring.  If they want to be there and it's not a problem for me or the birth team, great.  If they don't, that's completely fine too.

~We've read and talked about the process.  

They understand, even my 3-year-old daughter, that labor and childbirth are hard work.   They get that it can hurt.  I've told them that it helps the mama to make noises, sometimes strange noises.  And we've read books.  Our favorite homebirth book, pictured above, is "Hello Baby" by Jenni Overend.  Told from the youngest child's perspective, it is the story of a family welcoming their fourth child into the world, in their home, in front of a fire on a blustery night.   And it has absolutely beautiful illustrations!

~They've seen me in labor.
In addition to the boys' presence at my last two labors, we have all the kids' births on video.  They have seen them many times.   In fact, they've seen a lot of birth videos; that's what happens when mama is pregnant.  My daughter loves to cuddle up beside me and watch whatever birth videos I'm sobbing my way through.  I've even shown Gabriel a few; he views them with great interest and tenderly points out the "baby!"  That's one of the biggest factors, for me...that the kids have seen and heard what it can be like.  If the things they hear are not scary to them, they'll likely not be fazed to see their mother behaving like that during labor and childbirth.


There are no guarantees here. If it's not working for the kids to be present, or if it's in the very middle of the night, then they may not be there.  I expect to be in the bathroom again, in my tub, and although we have a nice-sized room, it could get a little crowded...so we'll see.

But if it seems like a good fit, and if they want to be there, my children are welcome to be with me when their new sibling is born.   After all, it is our family...growing.  Beautifully, astoundingly...joyously.

my birthday do-over

Yesterday I had a birthday do-over, of sorts.

It involved using the new dishes I bought with my birthday money (thanks, Mama, Daddy, Mom and Dad!)...

...a couple games with a newly-minted 8-year-old...

...a delicious Prime Rib dinner...

...and time stepping out with my beautiful family.  Priceless!

a milestone

(photo courtesy of my almost-8-year-old)

Well hello there, 3rd trimester!  So nice to see you!

we did it!

This morning, we did it.  We kicked off our first day of the homeschool year.

"To the new school year!"

There were candles and smiles...

There were homemade cinnamon donuts.

There was apple cider.

And, of course, there were children.  What would homeschool be without children, after all?

Gabriel, tot school

Elise, preschool

Owen, kindergarten

Kyle, 3rd grade

Ben, 5th grade

Of course, there were other things.  Not-quite-so happy things...there was poop on the floor and there was interrupting.  There was an assignment that needed to be re-done, and there was (just a little) whining.

And of course, there was a toddler.  'Nough said about that.

But those are not the memories I want to carry away from this day.  So here is my back-to-school post, with the happy photos (you wouldn't want a picture of poop on the floor anyway, wouldya?), along with hopes for a happy, healthy, richly fulfilling school year.

Cheers!