A Heart Centered Life
healing the world one heart at a time

My husband and I moved somewhat suddenly and very unexpectedly from California to Oregon in my 8th month of pregnancy.  This transition was more stressful than I care to remember but one saving grace of the move, and what tuned out to be just one blessings among many was giving birth to our son, at home.  

Through a series of rather serendipitous events I met, via email, a woman named Wendy who would become our midwife .  She was helpful, supportive, and strong.  I liked her immediately.  After meeting her in person, we were certain the choice to have a home birth was definitely for us, and that having her or someone from her practice be part of our home birth team would be an honor.

One of the other blessings that came our way was the support of Kristi, a lovely, generous woman who would become our doula.  She was just about to finish up her doula training, and we were to be her last practice delivery in order for her to get her certification.  It was a perfect match for both of us.

While we had less than two months to solidify a relationship with these women, one that would require deep trust on both our parts and a bond that most families would have started with their midwives prior to, or just after conceiving, we knew it was the right thing to do.  We met weekly and ended up creating a trusted bond, one that meant I could totally rely on them when the moment came for me to really lean on and into them, and 6 hours into my labor, I really did!

It was 930 pm on April 21st, a Monday night.  My husband and I were lying in bed chatting when the first contraction came.  It was strong and I knew it was one that meant things were starting, and our boy was on his way.  Yet my feelings were mixed because I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.  I had no previous experience with child birth and didn’t know if they might just be Braxton Hicks contractions, not the real thing.   I grabbed our Pregnancy bible, searched carefully for the section that would remind us how to time the contractions, and confirm one way or another what we were dealing with.  

Those next few moments were heightened and seemed to go slowly, as we watched the seconds tick by, but by 950, we were pretty certain they were not Braxton Hicks contractions  -  they were coming every 90 seconds or so and were lasting for almost 30 seconds, which meant, according to the book, that  we were suddenly in the first stages of active labor.  After an hour of monitoring the contractions, we knew it was time to call for help.  First, Sa’id called our Doula, Kristi, then put in a call to our Midwives, telling them he thought it would be a good idea for them to come on over.   Everyone was there by 11:45pm.

I can’t really remember all of the details of the next few hours, bec they flew by as I found and got used to the rhythm of my contractions, but I know that I could not have made it through the process without the deep holding and care each of them gave.  I remember moments, snippets of the process, and feel so blessed to have been given so much love during those long hours while waiting for our little guy to join us. 

Kristi came first, putting on a beautiful CD — one that my Sufi community had made — It was healing chants we do during our spiritual practices and my heart cried with joy as I heard those melodious tones reverberating through my being.  This was perfect.  I was overwhelmed by her deep care, and connection to my needs, having thought them through before I even knew what they would be.  I chanted, and sang, while breathing through the height of my pain.  She encouraged me to move around on the yoga ball and the floor to ease the intensity.  She kept me hydrated, put a cold cloth upon my forehead, and allowed me to squeeze her hand whenever I needed, and that turned out to be alot. 

Wendy and Alisha, the midwives, came shortly thereafter, and were a great help themselves.  They offered soothing words of comfort and helped me in and out of the bath during my transitions as labor progressed.  They talked me through my fear and my not thinking I could possibly go on any longer. They assured me my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to be doing and shared that I was progressing in a more than reasonable amount of time.  

When I thought I couldn’t take it another moment, Alisha suggested we check to see how much I had dilated.   9.5 centimeters.  I felt relieved, and excited.  My body was doing what it was supposed to be doing and we were getting closer.  I had been in and out of the bath a few times, as the water was helpful in easing the intensity of the contractions, but now, we were back in the bedroom and I was tired, certain I couldn’t take it another moment.  

Alisha, one of the midwives assured me with her strong loving voice and we all settled in for the next few hours as my body worked to move the baby down into the birth canal.  Sa’id was present, and helpful, holding me through the whole process.   After a bit of rest on the bed, I headed back to the tub.  The urge to push finally came.  Alisha and Wendy monitored the fetal heart rate periodically and I, pushed, breathed and bared down.   

At some point, we went back into the bedroom and rested in between the contractions which were much more intense at this point.  We were still waiting for my water to break and I could hear the loving encouragement of the midwives in between the peak of the contractions.  Eventually, and finally, my water burst.  Not long after, the baby’s head started crowning as he continued his journey into the world.  He came slowly, about 1-2 millimeters per contraction.  I’m not sure how long it actually took for him make his way out, but I know he wasn’t in a hurry.  I could feel myself burning and tearing as I pushed, and he made his way out.  

I remember Alisha telling me that this was it, the ring of fire, and that our boy would soon be in our arms.  I honestly didn’t know how I made it through those last hours, I was exhausted, but somehow, the mystery of nature took  ahold and  at 829, our son was lying on my chest.  Sa’id made prayers in his ear and his first taste of life was the sweetness of a date,both of which are Islamic custom.  We all marveled at his beauty and preciousness as waited for the cord to stop pulsing.  Sa’id cut the cord, and after the placenta was delivered, and our son latched on to my breast, we were left alone for an hour as a family.