My son, Dylon Jacob (DJ), was born late on a rainy evening in September, 2006. He slid out of me vaginally, even after two doctors told me to plan a c-section. You see, our first, Samantha, was born by cesarean after along labor. Ultimately the surgeon told me that my pelvis was not the right shape to birth vaginally. Well, a mere 1 ½ years later, I did it!

I had to ask myself, why was the second labor and birth so different? Ultimately, my dear friend, midwife, labor coach, and, really, DJ’s birthing spirit, Constance, assured me, guiding me into what she knows so well, vaginally birthing. Once again, I labored a good 25 hours, but what a beautiful 25 hours it was. Long walks, resting next to my sweetie, more long walks, movement of energy through crying, watching my family cook and play, and some more walking. The whole time we were doing this, Constance would check me, give mea big smile of progress, press on my back just right to relieve the back pressure. I truly knew I would be having a VBAC, not a cesarean, this time. So I trusted: I ate as Constance reminded me to do and belly danced through transition, until Constance told me I was about 8 ½ centimeters dilated and we were almost there. I transferred to the hospital, because of our first birthing experience. When we got there, my water broke and it took me a couple of hours of pushing with DJ. There was a moment, while pushing on all fours, that I just did not feel all that comfortable to really give the pushes necessary to birth. Intuitively, at the same time, Constance touched me and said, you can lean all the way back if you need to. It was exactly what it took for DJ to make his entrance. So, with two amazing women (my mom and Constance) as well as my beautiful man at my side, DJ slid out of me. I smiled with relief, saying, “I did it!” The miracle of life and birth is truly that. I know that having Constance, an experienced, loving midwife, present truly brought the belief, energy and trust of the birthing process out of me.

Lael's Birth

Born May 7, 2005
9 pounds, 21 inches

My son, Izzy, was born at the hospital after a long and highly managed labor. Without the help of a staff midwife, my chances for a c-section would have been very high. I labored without sleeping for 2 ½ days at home, supported by my husband and a doula. I went to the hospital, which was a forty minute drive, and was sent home because I was not dilated enough. They offered me morphine for pain, which I refused, asking if a glass of wine would produce the same results. They said yes, so I went home and had a warm bath and a fabulous glass of white burgundy. This gave me the welcomed break that I so needed. I slept for approximately 3 hours and woke up feeling refreshed.

The next morning I was readmitted to the hospital, 4 centimeters dilated.. Fortunately, we were well educated, persistent, and a bit stubborn. I was committed to doing everything in my power to have a vaginal birth. Once we arrived I was put on the ‘clock’ and immediately felt like I better make things happen quickly. My labor progressed steadily, but then stalled for some hours during transition. Izzy was posterior and was not moving down. My time on their ‘clock’ was running out. I was told that I would need a c-section. My husband and I wept at the thought of this after all of the work I had done. Yet we would do whatever was necessary to bring our baby safely into the world. However, I felt like a HUGE failure and I felt as though my body had let me down. We convinced the doctor to allow me to sleep for a bit, Then we could move forward once I woke up.

When I awoke, the wonderful midwife, Kerry, was back on duty standing by the bed. She looked at me and I felt immediate relief because I knew she would help me birth my baby vaginally. She got up on the bed and asked me to move into various positions and helped to move Izzy. My labor quickly started up again. She looked me in the eye and simply said, “you can do this – are you ready?” I pushed for approximately 5 hours and was threatened with vacuum and forceps a number of times. Because Izzy’s heart rate was steady, I was able to avoid both options and delivered him after a great deal of pushing.

So even before our next baby was conceived, I knew that I would not have another hospital birth. I needed to have a very different birth experience, but I wasn’t sure how. Our second baby was conceived a little over 2 ½ years later. Aside from extreme morning sickness for the first 17 weeks, the pregnancy was fabulous. I was seeing a midwife through my insurance who no longer attended home births. I spoke with her about my previous birth experience and my fears of being at a hospital again. She encouraged me to explore the possibility of having a home birth and said that I was a perfect candidate. At first I was on the fence, feeling stuck. Because of my experience at the hospital, I initially felt that my body had failed me and feared this happening again. After visiting the local hospital, I knew that I could not go there, yet felt fearful of homebirth. After some research, I came to realized that with a more experienced group of people around me, things probably would have been different. I can best relate my hospital experience to what it might feel like if you were stuck on an island and there were a lot of people around, just watching you be stuck, without helping you.

My husband and I met with a midwife who was concerned about my age (39) and the fact that I had had 2 miscarriages in the past. She said that she would take me on as a client, but that she had reservations about me having a home birth. After that meeting I was spinning out. I was not willing to go into the birth of my second baby with someone helping me who had reservations about my ability to do it successfully. I became quiet for days. I spoke to some dear friends and a few days later I called a woman who is a midwife and doula but lived far from me. She listened, helped absorbed the anxiety that I was feeling, and encouraged me to keep looking. She assured me that I would find the ‘right’ person for me. She gave me Constance’s name and number, confident that we would hit it off. She was so right. I felt an immediate sense of relief upon hearing Constance’s voice. I told her my story and she listened and simply said that she would be happy to take me on as a client. I remember being shocked that she felt this way after a phone conversation. I made an appointment for my family and I to go and meet with her.

We met a few days later and I felt at ease once again. Years of wisdom, birthing her own babies and helping women to birth their babies sits in her space so magically. I felt a part of me heal when I left her office that day. I was still fearful, but I felt confident and clear that having a home birth with Constance assisting me was the only way. Because I was seeing a midwife through my insurance for all of my required tests, I began meeting with Constance immediately to develop a deeper relationship. She did a lot of work with me envisioning the birth I would like to have and worked through the fears that I had about the upcoming birth. Our relationship grew easily, I looked forward to our time together and we soon developed a wonderful friendship.

My due date was May 8th and at 39 weeks I began having a lot of contractions in the middle of the night and there were several nights where I was up from 2:00 – 5:00 am and then went back to sleep. On May 5th, I was having a lot of pink discharge and I called Constance to let her know that things were warming up. I spent the day just hanging around and when Izzy got home from school we did puzzles and read books. On Friday, May 6th, I had a lot of contractions in the morning which mellowed out about noon. Constance called at 1:00 pm to say she was at a birth and would keep me posted. My husband, Frank, went out to pick up some catnip tea to slow things down. Constance called back around 5 pm to say that her client had had a baby girl and that she would be there for a few hours. She offered to come by afterwards, if I wanted her to. My contractions had mellowed out, so I didn’t think it was necessary, but would call her if it changed. I did not drink the catnip tea.

My contractions picked up again through dinner, getting stronger as the evening progressed. At about 9:00 pm I decided to call Constance and give her an update, before I went to bed. I told her that the contractions were stronger, and that I wasn’t sure if it was more pre-labor. I was going to take a bath and see what happens. She recommended I drink a glass of wine to help me sleep, which I did happily.

I got in the bath, had a glass of wine and felt much more comfortable. I got out about 9:45 pm and got ready for bed. Frank went to bed about 10:30 p.m. and I tried to lie down as well. Once I lay down, the contractions were even stronger. I tried to lie on each hip and then sat in our rocking chair with pillows around me, but I couldn’t sit either. I began timing my contractions: they were approximately every 10-12 minutes and about 1 minute long. I continued to time the contractions knowing things were different and I was having a harder time getting through them. I timed them for two hours and by 12:30 they were anywhere from 5-10 minutes apart. It was clear to me that things were moving along and I remember feeling very calm about it.

I went and woke up Frank and told him that we needed to call Constance. My son, Izzy was sound asleep in his bed. Constance and her two assistants arrived at approximately 1:30 am. I spent some time by myself laboring in the kitchen just moving from side to side while holding on to a chair. Constance asked if I might want to get into the tub and that sounded like a wonderful idea. I was in the tub for a while but as the contractions got stronger, I found it difficult to support my body and stay comfortable. She then asked if I might like to sit on the toilet for a while and I was hesitant to sit because sitting caused me excruciating pain during my first labor. However, sitting on the toilet was wonderful and it helped me relax a bit. Constance continually helped me with my breathing, helped lower my shoulders and held the space I was in with a gentle strength. She offered me time by myself when I wanted to be alone or just with Frank and was there for me right by my side when I needed her.

Constance then asked if I wanted to sit in the birthing chair and then things really started to speed up. The contractions were big and I was in transition. It then occurred to me for the first time really, that I was having a home birth. I was in it and I had made the choice to do it. I remember sitting on the birthing chair thinking and asking, “is there a baby coming? Are you sure?” Constance then guided me to the bedroom and thought a new position might be a good idea. I climbed up on the bed with assistance and this is when things become a bit blurry. I was on all fours and I could feel my baby moving through me and I could not believe the noises coming out of me as my mouth opened. I felt as though my hips were moving apart. However, I felt safe and I felt held and I just kept trying to let go and let my body do what it was doing.

After being on all fours for a bit, Constance asked if I wanted to sit on the bed and push my legs against her for support. Once again, I was terrified to sit because of my last labor but she gently convinced me to give it a try. I did not feel any pain in my back and was able to sit and push my baby out. Frank caught Lael at 6:45 am. She nursed immediately and Frank and I stared at her with blissful amazement. Izzy woke up a couple of hours later and met his baby sister.

It was a beautiful birth – everything that I had hoped for. There were no machines, no bright lights in fact only candle light and a flash light here and there, no internal exams and we got to stay put while our son slept in the next room. Lael did not have a bath or have her skin wiped down. Her first bath was when she was 3 days old and Constance returned to our home to check on me and on Lael in the days following. It was an experience that has changed me forever and has reaffirmed my ability to listen to my instincts and know my power.

I am Devorah, a mother of three sons, ages 19, 15, and 13. All my babies were born at home. The first one was born in water after a seven hour labor, spent mostly on my own, as my husband prepared the tub and my midwife traveled up to Santa Rosa from Santa Cruz on a rainy January night. The birth was both the most difficult and painful journey I had ever gone through, but at the same time, I was the happiest I had ever remembered, and Adam was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. I was grateful for the opportunity to experience a natural birth at home with only my husband and two midwives present.

My second birth was four years later. I had gone through a divorce with Adam’s Dad, and I had remarried. Not long before I became pregnant, I met Constance. I knew from our immediate connection that I wanted her to help me with my subsequent births. Her ability to be present, her sense of humor and her gentle nature were qualities I instantly noticed and loved.

Jasper was born on Christmas day. What an awesome gift. The labor was quicker this time. When I began to feel contractions, my husband Phil and I took a walk in the nearby park. It was a beautiful winter day. After a short while, I was ready to turn around and return home. I called Constance. She came quickly, which was a relief. Things were moving along at a good pace, and after a total of four hours, I was holding my sweet new baby, Jasper, in my arms.

Django was born two years later in the spring. Although I wanted to use Constance as my primary midwife again, she was unable to accept my insurance at the time. So I decided to have Carolyn as my main midwife and Constance as my second midwife. I was very happy with the combination. Django’s birth was the fastest yet. When I began to have contractions, I called the midwives and a friend, Lisa, who was going to take photos. The midwives arrived quickly. Lisa showed up in the nick of time. Django was already crowning. He was in a hurry to meet our family and was born in two hours total! Although it was very difficult to have such a fast labor, I had fallen in love once more, this time with my youngest son, Django.

My decision to have my babies at home was based on my belief that birth is a natural event, and I did not want any interventions if possible. I had been practicing yoga for over twelve years (since I was sixteen), and I felt physically and emotionally prepared for birth and motherhood. My body was strong and flexible, and I was able to breathe through pain. Also, I had always wanted to have children, so I was very happy. I am forever grateful to my yoga teachers for my initial preparation for birth, and to the midwives who were present for me and helped me have the natural births I wanted.

Rachel Dolgin born 10/15/71
5lb 4oz , a high altitude baby

I was thrilled to discover I was pregnant. At 25, childbirth was a vast new continent to explore, but I had no family map to follow. My Russian nana was a doctor in America in the early 1900’s, a pioneer in her day. She attended a few thousand births, but we never discussed them. My mother, an only child, had two hospital deliveries, complete with an amnesiac drug which erased her memories of childbirth. She was unable to tell me about them. I wanted to know more about their experiences. But I lived thousands of miles away and we couldn’t just sit down and discuss this.

My partner, Robert, and I lived quite remote from “civilization” in the mountains with our friends. We loved the way we lived, but, without electricity and running water, we had to work hard to survive. Our pregnancy inspired everyone within our community. Together we began to build a log cabin, hoping that it would be done in time for the baby. Robert and I were married in the seventh month of pregnancy.

In preparation for the birth, we took childbirth classes, studied the mechanics of labor and delivery, and spent time with other pregnant couples. I eagerly read every birth book available, and cherished the feeling of new life within. I planned to stay at home for the birth. “Birth is a natural process,” I thought, “and should happen in a relaxed, familiar and comfortable place.” I wanted to be among friends and to squat to deliver, like the Native American women did (or so I imagined). Robert would catch our baby and I would be able to nurse right away.

October nights were brisk in the Rockies. We slept in a small tent waiting to finish the cabin. My days were full, with hauling water from the well, chopping wood and tending the garden. Every day I drank raspberry leaf tea, a uterine tonic. One day, as I was carrying ten gallons of water up the hill, a 5-gallon bucket in each hand, I felt some contractions. “This might be labor,” I thought. “And, then again, maybe not.” The contractions were about twenty minutes apart. My day was normal, until several of us decided to go into town, almost an hour’s drive away. We planned to spend the night with friends and buy some wood to finish building the cabin loft in the morning. Soon after we arrived at our friends’ house in town, the cramping sensations were occurring every five minutes. I felt an urgency to go home. The intensity of labor made me want to be in my own nest. I turned to a friend and said, “It hurts!” (Robert was in the bathtub). Hopeing to encourage me, my friend said, “Think of God.” But I wasn’t very ethereal in that moment – all I could think of were dogs and cats I seen giving birth. Soon afterwards we all left to return to our mountain home, our plans for spending the night abandoned.

Our van was old, the kind you had to push to start. We all piled in and rode slowly away, the driver trying to avoid the jarring of potholes in the road. Stronger contractions were coming every two minutes . During contractions we went even slower. Everyone breathed with me until we finally made it home. The walk from the van to the cabin seemed to take forever, slowed by my needing to stop frequently. Someone had lit a fire in the woodstove and was stapling plastic over the empty window holes. Our mattress lay before the stove, in the center of the empty room, like an island in the ocean.

My body had never worked so hard. I was soaked with the sweat of the effort, my shirt sticking to me like a second skin. Women friends on either side of me suggested different types of breathing. Neither had given birth or even witnessed birth before. None of us had. I couldn’t think of the breathing we’d been taught in childbirth classes, not now. I waved these women away. I asked for a washcloth for my face, for water to drink, and for someone to sit behind me to support my body. My husband, flushed and proud, waited by my feet. One friend took photos while another played guitar to relax us all. But how could I relax? I wished that there was some way to jump outside my body and to watch it all happen from across the room. “How did I end up here?” I thought, forgetting why I ever wanted a baby.

There was incredible pressure, intense bearing down. I felt my bottom turning inside-out. Someone held a mirror so that I could see – a bubble coming out, and then, a pop, warm and wet. Relief. I trembled. Now it was time to squat. Friends were holding me up on either side. With a few hearty bellows and all the strength I could muster, Rachel slipped out onto the mattress, too fast for her father’s waiting hands to receive her, and she cried her welcome.

How incredible! Such strength! How wonderful was this woman’s body that new life could pass through it. I felt a new sense of accomplishment, a new sense of self, new courage and power. I discovered my strength as a woman.

And the pain wasn’t so unbearable. I could even do it again. And I did. Again and again and again.

(written for a publication by American women to share with our sisters in the former Soviet Union, a magazine called Zenshini, April 1985)