~Baby~

Baby number two was born two nights ago, at 8:40 on August 16, 2012. It
has taken me a while to begin writing this reflection. In part because
procrastination is a big part of my life, but mostly because this night was
filled with too many emotions for me to compose all at once- I am still lost
where to begin writing and want to encompass every moment.
I have decided never to compare births in terms of normalcy, every one will
be different, and will bring new experiences into my world. Nevertheless, this
past birth was the exact opposite of the first experience. With mama number
one, I spent 14 hours just on the labor itself- this time, mama and I breathed
together for only 5. Despite the time difference, there is not a single doubt in
my mind that this birth was just as tumultuous, painful, exhausting,
frightening, and beautiful for the mother in an entirely different way. Mama
number one held out, with no pain medication and no interventions,
delivering her little boy after a long time withstanding contractions. Yet for
mama number two, the birth was not merely about the delivery of her son.
For starters, she was a VBAC, which means that attempting a vaginal birth is
nerve-racking all on its own. The weeks nearing her due date were consumed
with thoughts about rupture, and not beginning labor in time to progress
naturally. Mama and I met to practice some comforting techniques about a
week before the baby knew he was ready.
I was worried for this mama, much more than for Mama number 1. Mama 2
had fears of her own, she hadnt truly felt birth with her first son as she was
victim to the typical domino chain reaction of interventions leading up to a
cesarean. More than anything, my goal with her was to make sure that this
time, she would be happy. I wanted her experience to be one of light and
freedom, power and pride. Despite her anxieties, and the anticipation of pain
that she was determined to avoid, somehow I trusted everything would be
okay. Mama number 2 was very well-read, educated on breathing, and we
had a chemistry that made me feel very close to her. Our relationship was
more compassionate- from the very beginning I wanted to protect her.
The prenatal visit in her home was not just because. We really worked
together, cooperating with her husband and establishing a union that I feel
only a Doula and mother can have. My doula bag felt essential now, with its
lavender patchouli spray, heating pads, candles, oils and creams. This birth
would be an opportunity of greater intimacy and interaction.
So the due date passed, and I knew Mama was worried that baby wouldnt
begin his journey in time, that she would have to go through surgery once
again. Thursday morning, I woke up to take once of my favorite yoga classes
and came home to eat some lunch, maybe head to the pool. As my electric
water boiler began whistling, Mama called; She was in the hospital now, and
her water had broken several hours prior in her OB office during a final
dilation exam. Baby was coming!
I rushed for a second time, all of these feelings of excitement, happiness,

relief, and anticipation exhilarating me all at once. Luckily, I had just refilled
on gas and was on the way in about twenty minutes.
About forty minutes later, I found Mamas room. Her composure was so
commendable. She looked beautiful and happy, calmly sitting in bed. Her
husband was still with us at this point (I was not expecting to be her only
support quite yet) and we felt our way through a few contractions together.
These ones were strong, but little ones and Mama could still talk during themurging us to rest or eat something while she was still feeling alright. Who can
eat at a time like this one!!
In the rush to get to the hospital from the OB office, Mama forgot her birthing
ball at home, and Papa went home to bring it for us. In the meantime (this
was around 3:30-5) Mamas contractions intensified by an unexpected
magnitude. Within minutes, they became a steady 50 seconds long every 5
minutes apart and Mama was about 5 centimeters dilated already. It felt like
there was no chance to get into rhythm, to find a metronome or balance that
we had created with Mama number one. One can never have expectations
with these things I suppose, especially because every baby, body, and mama
is different.
Here was when the going got rough. When Papa left, we made a plan just to
meet at the lobby, so he wouldnt have to come all the way back upstairs and
could simply proceed to pick up their little older brother, who was in camp at
the time. Yet when he had made his way back to the hospital, I could not
leave Mamas side. Every surge took the breath away from her.
I played Jack Johnson, sprayed scents between contractions to help her relax,
but ultimately, I was contracting with her every time. The first two hours were
laborious physically. We were trying everything- yoga positions, on hands and
knees, the shower, laying on the side, sitting on the toileteverything. Soon
enough, really soon after, her body could no longer permit movement.
Between contractions all she could manage was to breathe several breaths,
in any way that served her trying to forget the pain. Eventually, we took out
the chair from the shower and worked from there in the bathroom. She sat
with her knees wide apart, and during the contractions all I did was push two
fists into the middle of her lower back with all of my might. It was exhausting.
The chair had sharp edges that were ramming into my upper arms and when
the wave would simmer, I would exhale low deep rumbles and try to relax
with Mama.
The labor ward was not the same as the Birth Center. There were no
midwives or nurses checking on us. Nurses walking in would measure the
heartbeat every once in a while but not offer the same helping hand. Mama
became sleepy. I guess drained would be a more appropriate word. She would
yawn while screaming, tears rolling down her face. Her baby wasnt giving
her time to rest, or to accommodate to these blistering sensations. Around six
o clock I heard those dreaded words I am so sorry Roni, I cannot do this any
more.
Immediately I explained that there is nothing NOTHING to ever apologize for.

This pain was painful even for me. My hands shook as I knew a contraction
was approaching and Mama screamed, begging for more time. I wanted to
hug her, to tell her that it was okay. I was so proud of her. She was 7
centimeters dilated, her cervix was enlarging at bullet speed and it was
completely out of anyones control. So again, we breathed together. I would
exhale with her when she shuddered, a sign that a contraction was
beginning, and then we would start deep breaths. At first, they were
manageable in the sense that I could groan with her, getting her to lower her
pitch by massaging her legs, her back, telling her thats the way. There you
go. Let baby come down. Its going to be okay.
But then everything seemed impossible. Mama was yelping, screaming in
fear because she knew another one was under way. She trembled but I did
not give up. I sat with her in the bathroom still, telling her that no matter
what happens, she was amazing and I am here to support her. I was there to
make sure she was happy, and that she was comfortable. It panged me when
she apologized- how can she think I am remotely feeling shame in her effort?
I told her this. Assuring her that I am so proud, so amazed at her
accomplishment. To bring down baby so far. I wanted to cry here, because it
was miserable seeing her upset, beginning to feel given up. Her pain was
unbearable- I could feel it beneath my skin, and she asked for an epidural. Of
course the nurses were absolutely elated that finally Mama would end this
screaming, but I was too. I am not here to encourage a natural birth, I am
here solely for Mama, and at this point- Mama needed to help herself so that
she could happily bring baby into our world.
So Mama layed in bed as they gave her fluids, prepping the body for
anesthesia, every few minutes she would ask about the fluid. No longer
capable of concentrating on the contractions themselves so much as when
their pain would subside with the epidural. Even this, I believed was okay. As
she lay in bed, we continued the fist pushing into her back. I had to get some
water and she screamed for me to press into her back- it was her only refuge
now. I cannot believe my fists didnt leave bruises because I was ramming
them with every force left in me. Those four hours were probably the most
exhilarating and emotional of my entire life. Finally, a kind Indian gentleman
came to perform the epidural. I had to leave for a minute now. I was torn. On
the one hand, when Mama looked at me, gripping my hand, I wanted to stay
and protect her. Her eyes had transformed from a bright blue just hours
before to wet grey helplessnessI still feel guilty for leaving, but I was afraid
to see the needle. I think that I could have closed my eyes, kneeling beside
her, but I was also so tired, thirsty, and needing to urinate.
As I walked to the bathroom, my fingers were trembling. From what? Fear,
relief, exhaustion, all three? For the first time ever I believe, my urine was so
bright yellow that it scared me. I gulped down my entire green Nalgene bottle
and stuffed two boiled eggs into my mouth before returning to the room.
When I came in just 8 minutes later, it was around six oclock and everything
was complete. Mama had the tube in her back, and a catheter connected to
her bladder as well. We were now not able to move from the bed. Seeing her
now, I didnt know what to expect. Her entire body was shaking, shaking very

vigorously and she complained of being itchy and scratchy. Since she was
laying on her back now, and slightly tilted to the right, I stood beside her
scratching all over her body. I itched her breasts, belly, legs, neck, everything
that made her feel good. She began to talk to me about her life in Paris, how
she loved to drink wine with her husband in a park while eating delicious
baguette. Life returned to her eyes, she could breathe easefully now, calmly
once again. I kept thinking, thank god for the epidural. No matter what I
would have been proud of Mama, but I am so much more proud that she
accepted having to get an epidural for it was time. Watching her shake like
this was really scary though, but she told me anything was better than the
pain.
She took my hand in hers off of her body and looked at me, thanking me and
telling me she couldnt have come so far if it wasnt for me. I had tears
welling in my eyes. She made me feel so special. And then she called her
husband to tell him that the pain was subsiding. She spoke to her son now, in
Russian, she trembled and had tears as she told him that his little brother
would hatch soon, that it would all be okay. I cried now. I was overwhelmed
with how beautiful people can be, how their love can overcome any pain, and
support unconditionally one another.
Mama number two finally could be calm. It really frightened her not be able
to breathe through, not to be able to find peace. I walked her through a
guided meditation itching her upper body as the lower half went numb. I
think I spoke of a sunset, her feet in the sand. We could hear Jack Johnsons
voice in the background, and I sprayed more lavender. Our setting became
welcoming and warm. As we envisioned warm sand tickling her feet, I
glanced at her wiggling toes. It reminded me of the meditation I used to lead
with little ones at yoga classes, she was just as sweet, innocent, and
vulnerable now.
Just like with Mama number one, I started to move the hair away from her
face. She too responded positively. It must feel so loving and motherly for a
woman in her most instinctive of times. When the doctor finally arrived to the
hospital, we heard fantastic news- Mama was fully dilated and technically
ready to push. It was 7 o clock or so now I believe, and Papa had to drop off
their son at a neighbors before he could make it. He said he would try and
make it by 8 oclock, the time Doctor suggested we begin pushing. It was
bizarre that the exact same contractions, even stronger ones were still
surging through Mamas body but now they were a calm river wave, not like
the ones raging prior.
An hour went by of itching, massaging, breathing, and gathering energy. At
8:15 Doctor came in to demonstrate how to push. Inhaling and holding breath
for ten seconds. Mama used her yogic abdominal techniques shocking both
myself and the obstetrician. This time was very different. As opposed to the
first birth, when I was next to Mamas face breathing with her, this time Mama
was lying on her back, with her legs in a squat position. One leg was propped
up against the OB and the other leg against me. A mirror was brought so that
Mama could watch her baby descend. After one push, his head was visible. I

remember hearing my heart pounding within me. It was so exciting, I was

massaging her leg, and counting with the doctor, calmly saying yes, thats
the way, there you go! In only two more pushes, the head crowned, and
then the body came out and then he was here. Baby was here. I was so
happy!! I felt a hanger in my mouth and the doctor was beaming at me and
Mama, the baby was beautiful and healthy. Immediately we placed him skin
to skin, allowing Mama a few moments with her son.
Papa wasnt here yet though, he had missed the delivery and Mama offered
for me to cut the cord. At first I felt out of place, it was too much of a step to
do so, but then she encouraged me and the doctor said Roni, you can do it!
Blood squirted onto my shirt and face as I severed the union of growth that
had been so fruitful for nine months. Baby boy number two was his own man
now.
The placenta was smoothly delivered, in just under 4 minutes. Again, the
organ amused me- I dont think it will ever stop doing so. Soon enough, Papa
came in with their younger boy who was so loving and jumped on mama
exclaiming that now she can finally play tag once again! He held his little
brother and Papa did as well. The feelings of warmth in that room were unlike
any other; the respect I had for the doctor, her kindness and nature, the pride
I had in Mama, the joy I felt for the family, everything was just perfect! Not to
mention that baby was born to a Jack Johnson song.
I actually held baby this time. He was so cute and small, just minutes after
being inside his Mama and already prepared to nourish himself - quickly
learning a proper latch and then gently suckling away. Papa had to leave once
again to pick up his mother so I remained with Mama for another 4 hours
after the delivery. She experienced a lot of numbness in her legs that I
massaged, her feet especially. Then we moved into the postpartum ward
where she got nice and settled in. Her nurse and doctor hugged me as we
left. Never have I felt like my presence was so valued, ever
Finally acclimated, a familiar habit ran through me. I felt like a candy striper
once again. I got drinks, water, food for Mama and checked the pillows and
blankets. It was just like at the Sibley Hospital last summer. Only this time, it
felt alright not to be inside where the mommies are actually delivering. It felt
alright just to be where I was, with Mama, getting her food and holding space
for any emotions she felt at this moment. I could now be in the delivery ward,
but my place was wherever it serves Mama and no matter what that is, I will
always be okay with it.