My name is Rebecca; I am 24 years old and I’m married to Donny who is 25 years old. I gave birth to my first child, Logan, at home on February 27th, 2003.

When I tell folks that I gave birth to Logan at home they always ask if we meant to do it that way, or if it was an accident. Of course we planned it! I chose to have a homebirth because I felt most comfortable at home. I knew that by having a homebirth with midwives I lowered my chances of having a C-Section, episiotomy and the use of instruments to deliver my baby. Also, I would not have to worry about nurses and doctors tempting me with an epidural or other pain medication. I liked the idea of being in my own space, with all my familiar things at my fingertips. I knew that I would have the opportunity to labor any way that I wanted and not be hooked to an IV drip. After my baby was born I would also have help with breastfeeding from experienced breastfeeding mothers, my midwives. I did not want to go to the hospital unless there was an emergency. The “home-like” labor and delivery rooms at the hospital did not fool me; there’s no substitute for the real thing.

When I was 12 weeks pregnant we had our first visit with one of our midwives, at her home office. I was so excited! Her apprentice taught me how do the urine test and told me which levels were normal. Our midwife took my blood pressure and weight. She also listened to the baby’s heartbeat with a doppler. That was the first time Donny heard Logan’s heartbeat and it was an emotional event for me. She showed us color posters of the complications that, if I had, would send me to the hospital. She discussed the complications in detail with us. We talked about all aspects of pregnancy, labor and birth and any questions that Donny and I had were answered. In addition to the technical aspects of our impending birth we talked about our lives. We told her about our families and what we were doing from day to day. We were there well over an hour. We left that visit feeling exhilarated and Donny felt even more comfortable with the idea of a homebirth.

Our next prenatal visit was with our other midwife at her office. We alternated our visits between the two midwives for the rest of the pregnancy and at the end of the pregnancy they came to our home to do the prenatal visits! We thoroughly enjoyed every visit and the care that I received was remarkable. They took so much time with us; it was uncommon to have a visit under an hour. We learned something about birth at every visit. They empowered us and gave us the opportunity to make decisions about what prenatal tests and procedures that we wanted after discussing the pros and cons with us. They were able to do many of the prenatal tests themselves and some were much less invasive than if we had gone to the doctor’s office.

On February 5th I had an appointment with Ann a midwife at our backup doctor’s office. Donny decided to go to the appointment at the last minute. Before we left we decided that we might want to get an ultrasound. We had decided so far not to have one, but the idea now seemed so exciting. We told Ann that we did not want to know the gender of the baby, so she did the ultrasound and we learned that Logan was face up. I figured this because I felt his knees on both sides of my stomach. We saw his hand wave at us and learned that he had a “beautiful cord.”

Because he was “sunny side up,” at a home visit on February 15th, one of our midwives advised me to sit up straight at all times, do pelvic rock exercises, and sleep on my left side to encourage the baby to turn into the proper position. If the baby did not turn I would more than likely experience back labor and my transition time would be longer than usual. I started right away doing what she suggested.

Throughout the week of February 17th, I had mild menstrual cramps. Although it was a little more than two weeks before my due date I thought that something might be happening because I had never had feelings like this during my pregnancy. I felt an urgency to get the remaining items for the birth together and to get the house in order. Saturday, February 22nd we went to Sam's Club to pick up food for the birth and other items on our supplies list. We did not have much luck there and I planned to go on Monday to get the rest.

Monday morning the phone rang at about 8am. I jumped out of bed to answer it and as I talked on the phone with my mother I felt a gushy feeling in my pants. A little later I realized that I had lost my mucus plug. I was so excited! I called Donny at work to let him know. I told him that I would keep him posted if anything changed, so he worked the rest of the day.

Tuesday we did not know what to expect, so Donny stayed home from work. Although we knew that losing the mucous plug was no guarantee that I would go into labor soon, we decided to do all we could to get the labor going. We went out for an early morning walk at Sandhills Horticulture Gardens. The air was cold and the students were out on a plant walk; it was nice to be there. I heard that eggplant eaten by women close to their due date puts them into labor within 48 hours. So of course we made a stop at the grocery store on our way home. When we got home I crawled around on the floor on my hands and knees and did pelvic rock exercises. Then we spent the remainder of the day putting together a puzzle and playing Trivial Pursuit.

Cramps would come and go. When I got my hopes up that something was happening, the cramps would stop. We decided that we were not going to have the baby anytime soon and did not want to miss any more days at work and planned to return to our jobs on Wednesday.

That night was bitter cold. An ice storm was coming in that was rumored to be one of the worst of the year. We went to bed at 10pm on Tuesday, February 25th. I could not sleep because the cramps had come back and they did not stop this time. My head was also spinning as to what they could mean.

At 12:15 Wednesday morning I felt my stomach “pop.” I wondered if my water had broken. Nothing came out, so I dismissed it. Then a minute or so later, there was another “pop,” followed by water! It was happening; we were on our way to becoming parents. Luckily Donny had placed some towels beside the bed. I got out of bed and went downstairs, pouring water the whole way. I was as giddy as the day that I found out I was pregnant. Talking to myself, I could not believe that it was happening. I went back upstairs to tell Donny who was fast asleep. He was groggy and it took him a minute to understand what I was saying. He got up and I called the midwife who was just 30 minutes away. She wanted us to call her back when the contractions, (yes those menstrual cramps were contractions!) were countable. Although I had read many pregnancy books, I had not learned how to count contractions. I went to the Internet to find out how while Donny cleared away our puzzle from the card table and started to put the birth pool together. I counted and got 3-5 minutes apart. Donny said that could not be right, that they should be around 20 minutes apart to begin with. So I asked him to count, and he got the same thing. I told him to continue counting so we could see that they were really there to stay, and we called her back at 2am to let her know. She left her house soon after. She called the other midwife, who called our doula. One midwife arrived about an hour later. She laid the supplies from our birth kit on the card table and she put the crock-pot to warming water (for hot compresses) and she and Donny put new sheets and plastic on the bed. Donny filled the tub. That took a while because it holds 150 gallons and several times our hot water heater ran out of water and we had to wait for it to heat again. The water was not hot enough so Donny crawled under the house to turn up the temperature.

Our other midwife, her 5 month old daughter and our doula arrived around 4 or 4:30am. We talked with them between my contractions, and at around 7:30am, I decided to get into the pool. Our doula helped me to breathe through the contractions and to relax. Donny was there as well, holding my hand when the pain got unbearable and talking to me. There were times when I was sure that I would break his hand and once I bit his leg. We kept our spirits high and had quite a few laughs throughout the early part of labor. Our doula said that the baby might be laughed into the world.

A midwife checked me at 8:40am and announced that my cervix was 100% effaced +1 and 3 centimeters. She said, “All you have to do now, is dilate.” I was excited by the good news and was sure that it would not be long before I could get my cervix to 10 centimeters. She said, “Say open, and imagine a flower bud opening.” That imagery did not work for me. I asked Donny to talk to me and I did not care about what. So he talked to me through the contractions; in a soft monotone voice he said, “Imagine the baby moving down.” I told him that I could not imagine that. It was too heavy; I said to “say something light, like a feather.” So he said, “Imagine bubbles, blowing up a bubble”. It worked! It was light and it expanded. So he repeated, “bubbles, blow up the bubbles” over and over to me as I labored.

A wonderful advantage to homebirth is that you can labor anywhere you like. I labored leaning on the washing machine while Donny pushed on the back of my pelvic bone. I also labored on the toilet while he pushed my knees toward me, as well as on the birth stool. I squatted without assistance, as well as with the door between my legs while pulling on the bathroom doorknobs. I also let my body relax while Donny held me under the arms. I labored in the pool on my hands and knees, sitting, on my side, and laying back against the side of the pool. I learned from our doula that I could rub the inside of my thigh to bring on a contraction. I gladly brought this pain upon myself because I knew that the more contractions that I had, the sooner that I would dilate.

My contractions were coming one right after the other, the pain was powerful and I wanted to vomit; I said that I did not think I could take much more and I thought that I needed to push. I was experiencing many of the “symptoms” of transition, the intense stage right before pushing. I was encouraged to push if I felt like it. I did, but it did not seem to help and they wanted to check me. I got out of the pool and lay on the sofa. It was 3:30 in the evening. I heard her glove snap off her hand as she said, “5 to 6”. I could have died. All that work, all that work and I only dilated 5-6 centimeters? I realized how much more work I had ahead of me, a lot harder work. I looked over my left shoulder at Donny standing by the pool. He had the most disappointed look on his face and he left the room to keep his emotions together. I went to Donny and cried into his chest, I cried hard and long. Through the sniffles I said, “I have to get it together.” From that point on I was serious, with one mission, to get the baby out as fast as possible.

I labored in and out of the tub. It was nice and hot, I shut my eyes and zoned out as much as possible. It seems like I went through most of the birth with my eyes shut. But I think we all did. Many times I opened mine and Donny, our doula and both our midwives all had theirs closed. It was a perpetual sleep walk. I often glanced at the clock on the television and it seemed to be running backward.

I sat up against the side of the pool near the heater. The heat was nice against my lower back, but it made me hot all over. Donny had a hard time keeping cold rags for my forehead; our doula finally had an idea to fill a bowl with water and ice cubes. I got a bit impatient wanting my cold cloths. They also made sure that I drank water regularly. It was hard to drink water. My throat would not allow me to swallow very much at a lime, I felt as though I would drown. I could drink white grape juice though and fast.

The pool thermometer floated around me, I pulled it down and released it away from my body, and it always seemed to come back. I was tempted to use it to grasp when a contraction hit me. I said, “Do you think I can break this?” I remembered a plastic labor tool that our doula had that women had cracked with their hands. A midwife wisely took the thermometer out.

At 7:35 in the evening a midwife checked me while I was in the pool, I was 8-9 centimeters! She put plastic on the sofa and chucks on the floor; that’s about all I remember. I don’t remember making a conscious decision to push. But I can remember pushing and pushing and pushing. It seemed as though I was in a time warp. I felt like I would never be able to live my life like normal. The clock on the television was still running backward. I would never go out to eat, I would never watch TV again, I would never do anything that I had done just days before and I felt as though “these people” would never leave my house. I was bound to live the rest of my life pushing. I pushed in the pool and on the birthing stool and finally, I lay on the sofa while Donny and one of the midwives lifted my legs while I push. I thought that position was not wise. I had lain down before thinking that would make the contractions better and it caused me severe pain. But I did it anyway, and this time it was wonderfully effective. I don’t know how long I pushed in that position. Then I pushed on the birth stool, but I was not pushing effectively in that position.

I yelled for a Popsicle and our doula came back holding a pink one. I thought, “That’s another sign that this baby’s going to be a girl.” (Who would have known a Popsicle could lie?) Although I ate it so fast that I got a headache, it seemed like it was in slow motion. I saw everyone looking at me, waiting. They were waiting for me to finish and announce that another contraction had started and get on with the pushing.

One midwife checked me and said that the baby was hung up; she exchanged glances with the other midwife and sighed. She was calm, but there was something in her voice that told me something was not right. I asked if I would have to go to the hospital and she did not say no. She tried to brush it off and said that she was not sure what it was and she hoped it was the cervix. She asked to check me again to try to figure out what was going on. She found that Logan was hung on a little piece of my cervix. She worked the baby past it. Then she announced that the baby was not coming under, or maybe she said through my pelvic bone. She put her hands inside me putting pressure on the ischial spines of the pelvis, the narrowest part of the birth canal, to create a little space in front of the baby's head for the baby to descend a little further and kept them there while I pushed. She would say “Push, push, push, push, push one more time, keep going, just a little bit more” and “You’re doing good, the baby’s coming down each time you push.” And I tried so hard, many times pushing three times in one contraction.

It’s funny the imagery of past trails you recall to get you through tough times. I kept thinking about when my brother and I were on the speed skating team and we skated laps until our legs were so wobbly we could hardly stand. I reminded myself of the intense pain of pushing my body to the limit. I reminded myself that I was not a wimp. And so I said, “I am strong, feel the burn, don’t be a wimp” over and over in my head and I pushed some more. But Logan refused to come through the bones. He would almost get through and then I would lose the energy to push him a little further and he would sink back in. Again and again I pushed. I think this may have been when Donny started counting for me. The counting was so helpful and I could not concentrate if he stopped or lost count. He had no idea at that point how many hours he would say, “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…. 15” I was so relieved when she said that the baby was through the bones! I could not believe it.

They suggested that I grab my legs, pull them toward me, and bury my head in my chest and push. One midwife said “Push the baby up to heaven.” That was such a nice visualization. The other had the idea to put her hands back inside me, which helped me focus on exactly where to push. She said, “Push my hand out.” And, “Push past the pressure. When you feel the pressure, don’t stop, push past it.” I was thinking of the many Baby Story shows that I had seen where the doctor said, “She’s not pushing effectively.” I was trying my best to push effectively and tried to take in, visualize and do everything the midwives suggested me to do.

I looked at the clock on the television, thinking that I had to get the baby out in a few minutes or it would be another day. Then I rationalized the baby a day “late” as the next day was the 27th, the day I was born on in August. I asked Donny several times what time it was in Saipan, where my brother lives. The thought of letting him know that he was an uncle for the 10th time gave me encouragement to push.

I thought I would never hear them say, “I see the head” like they do on TV. But then they did! I was so excited. I can’t remember who it was who put her thumb and index finger together and said “This much.” It was the size of a quarter! Now, I’d really studied this part of birth. When you are planning on delivering a human being out your you know what, you start to figure on the average lengths and circumferences of those baby body parts and I knew good and well that a baby’s head is well over the size of a 25 cent piece. I could have died to say the least. Well, I pushed on and Donny counted. They checked the baby’s heart rate throughout the pushing phase and he was such a hard worker too, his heart rate remained pretty normal, 130-150. However, it did dip at one point. I saw the midwife with a needle. I said, “What is that?” She said that it was to numb me. I said, “You’re not going to cut me are you?” She said, “In case we have to get the baby out fast.” I did not know that the baby’s heart rate had dropped; Donny saw the glances between our two midwives and knew what was up. She gave me the Lidacane and went back to work. I could feel her moving her hands, I thought I heard scissors cut me, I did not ask, I knew she would tell me the truth. It was better not to know. She was working hard to keep me from tearing.

I guess our midwives saw that I was exhausted; maybe I was no longer pushing effectively. One came to me and told me to open my mouth. She sprinkled a homeopathic energy booster under my tongue. I’m not sure if it was the energy booster, or just the fact that I made up my mind to get Logan out, but it was not long after that I had our baby. Donny had been counting to 15 for hours; at this point he said, “Every time I see the baby’s head, I lose count.” I pushed again and I unexpectedly experienced the “ring of fire.” The feeling was very intense and I stopped and did not want to push anymore. They said “You can’t stop, the baby’s almost here.” I pushed two more times and the baby’s head was out. Someone said, “Reach down and feel your baby’s head.” I remember looking, but I did not want to touch it. Seeing the head did give me hope to push him out. I pushed, I don’t know how many times; it seemed longer than it really was. I only remember the midwife at my feetlaying him on my chest and looking down at his wailing face covered in white. I was so happy, so very, very happy. It was over, all over!

Our midwife asked Donny what it was. He said, “It’s a boy.” Logan lay on my chest until his cord was ready to be cut. She asked Donny if he wanted to cut the cord. He had not planned on it before, but eagerly said yes. She clamped it and Donny freed him, to be forever detached from me and be a part of the outside world. They did this on my belly while I lay on the sofa. Soon I was ready to deliver the placenta. I pushed a few times lying down, and then she said she thought I was strong enough to stand and push. She held the bucket beneath me, I pushed and it hit with a splat. All done! They wrapped Logan up tight and put his little pastel striped hat on his head. I lay with him for a while admiring him, then Donny held him while I took a shower. After the midwives and doula left; Donny and I gave him a sponge bath together then went to bed.

Homebirth was the best choice for me. I was relaxed as a laboring mother could be. This was because I was in my own space and because of this I know that my labor was easier. Our midwives noticed that Donny and I liked to labor alone or with our doula. They told us they would be nearby if we needed them. I ate and drank whenever I felt like it. I was comfortable to labor naked. If I wanted to scream I could without feeling guilty for upsetting someone else’s space. If I wanted quiet all I had to do was shut up. The bond between Donny, the midwives and myself was excellent. I knew that they knew exactly what I wanted out of the birth, what my concerns and fears were, I was not just another patient. I also knew what their limitations were and trusted them fully in case there were complications in the birth. I knew that if they said we needed to go to the hospital, I would not argue and would prepare myself for the ride.

Donny was right by my side through it all. He felt comfortable to take charge, and make decisions because he was in his own environment. The support and trust that he had from our birth attendants allowed him to help me to the fullest extent. Our relationship grew during those three days in ways it never has in the eight years that we have been together. There’s no responsibility like the responsibility that we took when we decided to have a home birth. We stepped out the circle of “normal” and said we want to be in charge of what happens to us during the pregnancy as well as what happens to us and our baby at the birth. We knew we had to work together to make our birth the way we had dreamed. The birth made our relationship so much stronger and the connection that we have with our baby is like no other.

Like most babies, Logan came into the world cold and naked. But he was not just another nameless baby from a nameless mother delivered by a nameless staff on a 12-hour shift. He was as anticipated by our midwives and doula, as he was by Donny and me. He was treated with respect and they made his transition into the world as pleasant as possible. He was not transferred to an incubator, but laid on my chest as soon as he was born and covered with a blanket that was warming on a heating pad. They did not rush to cut his cord, but first let him gather the precious blood, full of oxygen, vital nutrients and immune-enhancing antibodies. They did not whisk him off to weigh and measure him. When they did weigh and measure him, it was by my side in a warm cloth scale. The house was warm and there were no bright lights to frighten him. Donny and I gave him his first bath, washing away the remaining evidence of his previous home in my womb. We did not want any medications or shots so he was not pricked and prodded. He did receive some Vitamin K drops for light bruising but only after our midwife asked if it was okay. The first thing to hit his stomach was my warm breast milk, not routine hospital sugar water. Of course children survive everyday the cold sterile rituals of hospitals, but I’m happy to have spared him the experience.

The care that we received from our midwives and doula did not stop the morning Logan was born. We called our doula that night for advice on breastfeeding and she was a lifesaver. Our midwives came to our home for several days after the birth to make sure that I was recovering well and that Logan was also well. They helped me learn the techniques of nursing Logan, they answered our “new parents” questions, and they comforted family members on issues about Logan.

The only regret that we have is that we don’t have a family doctor, dentist, or pediatrician that is like our midwives. If all our health care were as good as our midwives’ the world would be a much better place!