at 6:14 a.m., Riley was born in our home. The home we just left. A little bittersweet, yes, but so many more memories have the potential for occurring here. And I always have my memory of that morning. Below is my birth story. If you don't wish to read it, just ignore it and look at the cute pic of my son :)
Happy Birthday Riley!
Written 12.30.02As I sit trying to figure out where to begin the story of the birth of Baby Riley, I realize that I cannot begin with the first contraction. The tale of this wondrous birth begins with our decision to have our baby at home.
I always wanted to have a baby at home, in my tub (I called it a “birthing tub” when we bought our house). Rick just laughed at me. No way would we have a baby in our house, let alone our BATHTUB. After all, he is the one who has to shower in it and he doesn’t want to think of what came out of me when he does. So I resigned myself to the fact that, although it would be great, I will have babies the traditional way – in the hospital. I did it with Violet and it was a great experience. I was sure I could have another one just like it.
In October 2002, we were scheduled to take a tour of the hospital. We invited Valerie Liptak, our doula, to come with us. Valerie is actually so much more than a doula. She and I have been scrapbooking friends for a couple of years now, and she had a natural childbirth with both of her (now grown) children. I asked her to help us through the labor over the summer, since I knew she would be a wonderful advocate for me and a great help to Rick. She cheerfully accepted, and spent the next couple of months feverishly researching every aspect of being a doula she could possibly find. I knew she was the right woman for the job!! Okay, back to the hospital tour.
So here we were at MountainView Hospital, looking for our tour group. They don’t do private tours, so we had scheduled this several weeks in advance. When we got to the front of the hospital, the security guard told us the group just left and we should go upstairs. We did, and found no one. Finally Rick went looking around and found our group in a meeting room on the main floor. We joined the group and realized we missed the entire question and answer period. The tour-guide-nurse who was sharing the information was very adamant that there are certain rules and procedures that will be followed in the hospital, and there is no swaying from them. Hospital rules. As the tour wore on, I realized just how much I didn’t agree with those “hospital rules”… no alternatives to laboring in your room on the bed, mandatory continuous fetal monitoring, only two people in the room with me at any time, no lactation consultants on staff, mandatory nursery stay for the newborn (after a “whole hour” of bonding), no accommodations for the spouse to room in with mom and baby, they “frown upon” the idea of a two year old being there to watch her sibling being born, mandatory IVs and pitocin after birth, and the list goes on. Every question or concern we had was met with a “no” or “that is not our policy.”
As we left the hospital, I was devastated. There was no way I could have the baby there! Of course, it was the only hospital (other than the scary county one) that was accepted by our insurance at the time. I did not know what to do. The ride home was pretty quiet, and then Rick spoke up.
“Jess, I think we should have the baby at home.”
Both Valerie and I stared at him, mouths agape.
And he spoke again. “When we were taking the tour, and the nurse said that we would have to send our newborn baby to the nursery and I could wait outside to pick up the baby after two hours of ‘procedures’ and ‘warming lamps,’ I really felt like God spoke to me and told me we should have the baby at home.”
And Valerie and I stared at him, mouths still agape. Was he joking? Did he really mean it? Were these words coming out of the mouth of the same man who said not a month earlier that we would NEVER have our baby at home? Did God really speak to him?
There was no denying that those words that came out of his mouth were from God. I was certain they didn’t originate from Rick. I said to him, “Really?” and he said, “Yes. We should have the baby at home. There is no other option.” And so, after an emotional night of praying with Valerie about what God had revealed to Rick, we began our pursuit of a midwife, since our regular doctor would not even entertain the thought of having a baby outside the confines of a medical facility.
The next couple of weeks were spent researching and interviewing midwives. We narrowed our search down to two that were highly qualified and certified. We met with each of them and after doing so we chose the one that we loved right away. Her name was Jill Colin.
Jill is such a neat lady. She has this smile that engulfs her face and the room. You can’t help but smile when she does. She is well versed on all aspects of midwifery. We came into our interview with 3 pages worth of questions and she patiently answered each one with confidence and intellect. And she kept reiterating the fact that she wanted to make this the best birth experience for ME. Her office is actually the master bedroom in her house, and everything is very relaxed there. She even has Tinker Toys for Violet to play with – that won Violet over right away!
Each appointment with Jill lasted a minimum of one hour. She would spend time chit-chatting with us, listening to the baby’s heartbeat on the Doppler, feeling for all the baby’s “parts” on my belly, and allowing Violet to be her assistant (especially with Violet’s favorite medical instrument of all, the sphygmomanometer!). As she hugged us goodbye each time we left her house, we knew we had made the right decision.
Fast forward to late December. The due date came and went without much of anything. I had been having some contractions here and there but nothing was regular. Jill did check me at my 40 week appointment and said I had effaced 60% and had begun dilating, but my cervix was still really high so it was hard to tell without hurting me, and I told her that was fine. Just as long as I was getting started, I was happy.
Christmas Eve and Day passed with a couple of really strong contractions, but again they were gone as fast as they came. So again we waited. And then the evening of Thursday the 26th something started. We were supposed to meet the family for dinner at Buca di Beppo restaurant. I was having a few good contractions as we were getting ready to go. Then there was the contraction I had that lasted the entire car ride there (15 minutes!!). At the restaurant I was having contractions again and they were coming every 5-10 minutes. I wasn’t entirely sure this was “it,” but I thought I should call Jill and Valerie just in case to let them know. Of course as soon as I called them, things slowed down. The contractions were getting farther apart – 15, then 20 minutes, and then they stopped. It was so frustrating! All night long I was waking up to contractions, but they were few and far between (although some were pretty darn intense!!).
I met with Jill on Friday the 27th. It was supposed to be a postpartum checkup. I was so upset that I was still pregnant, and so upset that these contractions which weren’t even LABOR yet were hurting me so badly! How in the WORLD was I supposed to go through with REAL labor when the fake stuff was so painful??? Jill did not check my cervix at that appointment, but we did get to hear that baby’s heartbeat going strong. Jill reassured me that the contractions were doing SOMETHING and I would most likely have a baby by the end of the weekend. I had two decent contractions at her house and another on the way to my parents’ house. (I decided I needed the leftover Buca di Beppo pasta for dinner). At my parents’ house I had some more contractions. They lasted about a minute and were around 10 minutes apart. And then I’d go 20 minutes without having one. It was all very frustrating.
We borrowed the movie “The Thomas Crown Affair” from my parents and also their yoga ball. I figured I would try to handle some contractions on the ball to see if it helped any. We headed home and I didn’t feel a single contraction. We put Violet to bed and popped in the movie, and my contractions started up again. I sat on the ball through some of them – OUCH! What really helped is when Rick sat in front of me and I could lean my weight on him while I was on the ball, and he could wrap his arms around me and press on my lower back. After a few like that, I realized that I was more comfortable sitting on the chair watching the movie, so I just did that.
The movie ended around midnight, and I had the incredible urge to clean up. I emptied the trashcans, made Rick clean all the dishes, wiped down the countertops, dusted the living room furniture, put away all the laundry, and got out our birth plan and put it on the counter “just in case.” Then we prepared ourselves for bed. My contractions were now 7 minutes apart and had been that way for the past hour. This MUST be labor. It HAS to be. These pains really hurt too much now and if it’s not labor, there’s NO WAY I can go through it. So I called Valerie, crying, telling her that I thought I needed her here, even if it wasn’t real labor, I just needed her here. After two more pretty intense contractions, I called Jill. She said for me to get myself into a hot bath and she would be right over. I told Rick to start lighting candles. I needed some “mood lighting” in our room. He also turned on the CD player and “Mozart for Mothers-to-Be” began filling the room.
At 1 a.m. on the 28th of December Jill arrived as I was soaking in the tub. Mmmmmm… it was soooo nice to be in that water, and it really made the contractions more bearable. I stayed in for another 10 minutes, then got out and onto the bed for Jill to check me. I was 3-4 cm and 80% effaced. I was in labor!! Jill recommended that I relax as much as possible, try to sleep, and rest through the contractions with the help of Valerie and Rick. Her assistant, Kachina, arrived, and the two of them set up her stuff in the room. Jill went downstairs and heated up the oven to sterilize her instruments. Melissa got here shortly thereafter to start videotaping. I told Rick to call my parents (since I am in labor) and let them know they can come over with Melinda and Liane. I also had a list of the ladies who attended my shower that wanted me to call them so they can light a candle and pray for me during labor. Rick was really reluctant to call them (by now it was 1:30 in the morning), but I insisted, and he finally did make the calls. All my friends were very excited to hear the news that I was FINALLY in labor! Not nearly as excited as I was, however!
I was still on the bed at this time, wearing my pink terrycloth bathrobe. The contractions were getting longer and stronger, and it was becoming difficult to navigate myself through them. I found myself moving into position – on my hands and knees - and uttering a moan as they began. This was the cue for Rick and Valerie. As soon as they heard those sounds, they sprang into action like a well-oiled machine. Rick pressed his hands on my lower back as Valerie rubbed the tension from my shoulders, telling me in a quiet voice what a wonderful job I was doing. As soon as the contraction ended, Rick would lie back down on the bed and Valerie would sit on the floor next to the bed, trying desperately to rest before the next one started.
Melissa was amazed at the efficiency of my team, as was my mom. When she arrived, she could not believe how well I was being attended to. My parents, sisters, Jill, and Kachina all made their way downstairs to rest as much as they could before the “good stuff” started. Jill let me know that if I needed her she would be right downstairs.
I remember in my research of natural childbirth reading some stuff about women who have a “birth song.” I never paid much attention to what that was even about because, well, I don’t sing. A birth song was not something that even applied to me, so I usually skipped over that part. What I found during this labor, however, was that I DID have a “birth song.” It rose in my throat with each contraction, and I could not contain it inside me. I had to let it out. It began as a slow moan, and with the intensity of the contraction, it, too, intensified. The song grew louder and stronger and the tones were longer. As the contraction peaked, so did my voice, and it gradually wore down until the sound was inaudible. And the contraction was done. This was an amazing, primal thing that my body was doing without the help of me. At this point I had surrendered my body to each contraction and my body took over. I certainly would not have been singing had I been in control. Looking back on it, I can’t really call it “singing,” but my mom insists it was beautiful to hear. She was the only person who did not sleep when they went downstairs. She just lay there and listened to my birth song.
This rhythm of singing that ebbed and flowed in the candlelight went on for a few hours, until I needed to go to the bathroom. Just changing positions caused me to have an enormously intense contraction, and sitting on the toilet was fine until one hit – then it was excruciating. All I wanted to do was find a more comfortable position. We moved ourselves back into the bedroom, but I did not want to be back on the bed. I sat on the chair in front of the scrapbooking table. Rick stayed behind me and Valerie kneeled on the floor in front of me. When a contraction hit, I moaned my song and allowed the weight of my body to fall upon Valerie as I buried my face in her shoulder. Rick’s strong hands pressed on either side of my spine. I don’t remember telling him where to press, but he seemed to know just where I needed it.
In between contractions I sipped cold water and leaned back in the chair. Valerie continued to say the words I needed to hear, reminding me that I can make it through just this one contraction and then it will be over, or praying with me for strength and courage to run this race, reminding me of the incredible prize of a baby that I will have in just a few short hours. She kept telling me that it’s almost morning, and when it’s morning we will have a baby and all the pain will be over. She encouraged me to listen to the music and pay attention to the particular movement that was playing at the time – it reminded her of springtime and of the newness and wonder that comes with it, just like the wonder of a new baby. And I was able to endure the pain, one contraction at a time.
At about 4 a.m. I realized that I hadn’t felt the baby move at all for awhile. Earlier the baby would squirm and kick between contractions, letting me know all was well. But I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt any movement, so I was struck with a wave of panic. I wanted Jill to come upstairs with her Doppler so I could hear the baby’s heartbeat. Melissa offered to go downstairs and get her.
Jill and Kachina came up right away and Jill got out her Doppler. I leaned back as she pressed the transducer onto my lower belly. We heard the placenta sounds and cord sounds clearly, but I was not lying down and it was difficult to pinpoint the sounds of the baby’s heart. After what seemed like an eternity, I could hear the faintest heartbeat through the speaker. The farther I leaned back, the stronger the sound became, but the more uncomfortable I became. Jill told me I could lay on the bed and we could hear the baby much stronger, but I was not interested in being on the bed AT ALL, and just the THOUGHT of lying down was excruciating. So I decided I was content with what I had heard.
After hearing me grunt a little with the last contraction (was that pushing?), Jill wanted to check me, so it was back onto the bed. I almost made it without having a contraction, but ended up leaning on the side of the bed as a huge one hit. It seemed like the worst pains were the ones I faced when my body changed positions. I was finally able to crawl onto the bed and lie back for Jill to reach her gloved hand inside me and tell me that I was 8 centimeters and FULLY effaced. I was closer than I thought!
Jill decided it was time for me to get back into the tub, and I agreed. It sounded like a good idea, and that was how I gauged things at that time… if it sounds good, let’s do it. Kachina started the water running, and I endured a few more contractions and a little more grunting, although not really “pushing,” more of a “pushing through.” Does that make sense? It was just a little “unnnnnnhhhh” that made it that much more bearable every once in awhile. When the pain got particularly intense and I had a hard time moaning through them (my voice would rise in pitch with the rise in intensity), Kachina reminded me to “use low tones.” I would immediately change to a lower moan, and it was incredible the difference it made. I would take a deep breath and mooooaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnn, breathe and mooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn again, and so on. The moaning would get louder, but I would not change the tone of my voice.
Finally the tub was ready and Rick and Valerie led me to the water. The bathroom was also lit by candles. It took me awhile to get into the tub. The timing had to be just right – in between contractions – to allow me plenty of time to ease myself into the very very hot water. I asked Jill if the hot water would be harmful at all for the baby and she assured me it would be safe.
I was sitting in the water with my legs crossed when a contraction began. I leaned forward as Valerie attended to my upper body and Rick worked on my lower body. Rick was straddling the tub behind me, pressing firmly into my back. I was moaning and breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of lavender from the soap that was right next to my face. That lavender smell was so intense and so nice! I decided it would be a good thing to stay in this position for as long as possible.
I didn’t find that the hot water relieved my pain so much as it just felt good between the contractions. Nothing really relieved my pain during contractions at this time. But it was wonderful to lean back on my husband and have him stroke my hair and face while I awaited another wave of pain.
I don’t remember how long I was in the tub, just a few contractions I think… but then again, at this point, time did not matter. What mattered was enduring each contraction as it came. I remember thinking there was a longer wait in between contractions, though.
Jill checked the baby’s heartbeat while I was leaning back in the tub – loud and strong. What a great sound to hear! The baby was doing great. I was ready to get out of the tub. Jill and Kachina had set up the floor in front of our bed with the “birthing area”… the shower curtain was on bottom, topped with an old sheet, then the large, blue drape with a few chux pads on top. Instruments and essentials were on the floor in a neat row, ready to be used. And the baby stuff – nasal aspirator, hat, cord clamps, etc – which had been underneath the bassinet, were now at the ready. All we needed was a baby!
I stood up – Holy cow, another contraction – and leaned all my weight on poor Valerie who was holding my towel. I stepped out of the tub – EEK another contraction – and hung onto Rick while he tried to support the 200+ pounds of my weight. I took a few steps toward the birthing area and made it there just in time to kneel down as another contraction rose from the depths of my being.
And then the savior of my world arrived. Kachina! Out of her pockets she pulled her hands and pressed them on my hips. Hard. Then she pulled up with them, in effect opening my pelvis. OH THE RELIEF!!! I could NOT believe the difference in my contractions when she did that! It took the pain from unbearable to just difficult. “Rick, you NEED to do this!” I commanded. On the next contraction, he tried, but was not pressing nearly hard enough. “HARDER!!!!” I bellowed. And finally he got it.
Jill had me sit on the birthing stool and checked me again – fully dilated except for a lip around my pubic bone, which was because I had been sitting in the tub and that area did not have a chance to dilate with the rest of my cervix. Being on my hands and knees was the best way to get rid of that lip, so it was in that position I returned.
I was naked on the floor, wearing nothing but the necklace that my friends made for me at my baby shower and a ring on my left finger. Rick was on my left side and Valerie was on my right. I was on my hands and knees and pressing my head into some pillows on the floor. Jill and someone else in the room put a pillow under my knees to relieve the pressure. With each contraction, I pushed a little and breathed through it. That, accompanied with that Godsend of a pressure point Kachina taught us, made it possible to endure the pain that was quickly becoming difficult to bear.
I think it was a little after 5 a.m. at this point. I heard Violet waking up in her room. Melinda and Liane sprang from their perch on the bed and attended to her. They tried to play with her for awhile, but she wanted to see her mommy. I could hear them trying to reason with her, so between my contractions I said she could come and see me. Jill talked to her before she came into the room and prepared her for what she was going to see.
When she came in, I was still on my hands and knees. I said, “Hi Violet! I am going to have Baby Riley pretty soon here. I have a big tummy ache, so you will hear me making some noise, okay? Like now! Unnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooaaaaaahhhhhhh!” Violet was amazingly okay with the sounds I was making. She had been well prepared for what birth was like. We had talked about it a lot, and watched shows like “A Baby Story” on TV so she could see babies coming out. She also watched her own birth video. She could describe to anyone how her baby brother or sister (she was convinced it was a girl) was going to come out: “Mommy is going to have a BIG tummy ache, and then she is going to PUUUUSSSSSHHHHH the baby out of her ‘nethers’!”
The “peanut gallery” was assembled on the bed while I was on the floor. Liane, my dad, Melinda, Violet, and my mom were all watching from above. Violet was so excited that a baby was going to be born soon! She told everyone about her important job – to put the baby hat on Baby Riley so she doesn’t get too cold. I knew it might be awhile, though, so I asked “the aunties” to take her downstairs to watch a movie.
Soon afterward, Jill wanted me to go to the bathroom. Maybe pushing on the toilet (and “clearing out” my bowels) would get things going. It took a few contractions to get there (remember, I cannot measure time by the ticking of the clock on the wall, but rather the baby in my womb). Sitting on the toilet was difficult, and ensuring a contraction on the toilet was torture. I peed and pooped as much as I could (I definitely didn’t want to poop while pushing out the baby), and pushed through a couple of really good contractions. Jill asked if the pee was my water breaking, but nope. It was just my pee. However, I started to feel that pushing was doing something… there was a definite change in the pushing. It wasn’t as much me as my body now… so I knew that it would be close. Valerie reminded me, too… she told me that the sun would be coming up soon. Soon it would be morning, and I would have a new baby in my arms. Those thoughts are what kept me going at that point.
When I returned to the room, the birthing stool was set up again. Jill suggested I do a few pushes on it, but not have the baby on it, since it makes the baby come out too fast and we don’t want my perineum to tear. She checked my cervix and that darn lip was still there. Also, my water hadn’t broken yet, so she recommended breaking the bag of waters. I agreed.
Jill pulled out the water-breaking instrument, kind of a long, large “crochet-hook” looking thing made of plastic. She said she would reach it in there while I was pushing and just nick the bag (it was big and bulging, so there was no worry about it hurting the baby in any way), causing it to break. At least that was the plan. Jill draped herself with chux pads for the inevitable gush. I pushed; Jill stuck that thing inside me and fiddled for what seemed like forever trying to break the water. It wouldn’t break! “This is one tough bag of waters you have, Jessica!” Jill said, and then it finally broke. No big gush, nothing dramatic. I didn’t even know it had happened. “You broke it?” I asked. “Yep,” she replied. “The fore-waters are broken. That’s the part of the sac that is in front of the baby’s head. I can feel the head now, and it definitely has hair!”
Oh, God. The baby is there. I will soon give birth again and have another baby.
Jill asked my mom to get a large pan of hot water and the washcloths, just like in the movies! It was time for hot compresses. They felt so good and so soothing. My entire body relaxed against the heat on my nether regions.
Just then I had a pretty serious contraction and that head began its descent. I could feel the hard skull forcing itself down through my pelvis, spreading the bones as it moved. I pushed. I had no choice, really. I was just doing what my body commanded. I had to force myself to take a deep breath. I think I was supposed to breathe in through my nose, but that was too hard. I opened my mouth and gulped air, once, then twice. Then I held it and pushed. I pushed hard. It was great. No one was counting the length of my pushing; no nurses were saying “pushpushpushpush” as I was doing it. It was all me. Jill trusted me and my body and my instincts to do this. And I did it well.
My husband sat in a chair directly behind me. His strong body was perfect for me to lean against. He put his head next to mine and said, “I love you, Jessica,” and that was all I needed to hear.
Although I did not see this next part, I was told that at this time the olive oil came out. Kachina poured it over my perineum while Jill gently massaged and stretched it, still pressing the hot compresses on my body. I did not even feel any pain at all from this. Jill did such a great job of protecting the perineum, just like I wanted her to.
And another contraction came. The head was coming out. It was coming out FAST. I could not stop it. It felt HUGE! I tried to lean back, I tried to lean forward. Jill was telling me to take it easy, to stop pushing, but I wasn’t pushing! I wasn’t doing anything! I was not in control of my body at all! I tried to breathe – I tried to make the head stop coming out. Jill said I wasn’t supposed to birth on this stool, but this is exactly where it was going to happen. There was no stopping time now. This enormous head was making its way out. My baby wanted to see me! I felt the pain, the fire of birth. I could feel my vaginal opening stretching – stretching – as tight as it could possibly stretch. The flesh felt like it was aflame. All I could say was, “It burns! It BURNS!” as I desperately tried to breathe and not push. But the pushes overpowered my body. I kept telling Jill, “I am sorry! I am not trying to pussssshhhhh…. Unnnngggggghhh… Sorry Jill, I am not pushing, I am trying not toooooooo… Unnnggggggghhhh… ohhhh it hurts! It’s on FIRE! Ohhhhhhh!”
I heard Melinda, Liane, and Violet enter the room. I wanted to acknowledge my daughter, but I just couldn’t at that time. This new baby had possessed my body. I was at its mercy.
And just then, with a final push that culminated in a cry from my soul, the baby’s head was out. Oh, God. My second child was nearly born! A head had emerged from inside my body! Violet, held by her aunties, pointed excitedly at the new baby in limbo between two worlds. Jill told me to reach down and feel the baby’s head, and I did. That round, gooey, warm head was about to become my second born baby. My dad, who had been taking pictures the whole time, took a picture of my hand on my child’s head. And another contraction arose from the depths.
I asked Jill if it was okay to push, and she said, “Go for it!” So I did. I breathed deep, closed my eyes and pushed as long as I could, breathed again, and pushed even longer. I could feel the resistance of the body – the shoulders maybe? – And then the pop as the body released itself from my insides and came out. I looked down as it happened and grabbed the baby with the help of Jill. I pulled it up onto my skin as it let out the tiniest, most incredible cry just as the first rays of the morning sun filled the now silent room.
It was 6:14 a.m. on Saturday, December 28, 2002. And I was a mom again.
The baby was amazing – covered in blood and goo and wetness – little bluish-purple hands reached up and took hold of the necklace I was wearing. I looked down at the perfect body and thought to myself, “Holy cow – is that a scrotum?” just as Rick announced with high emotion to the room, “It’s a BOY!”
I have a son! I could not believe it. He was perfect. His little body was so sweet and so cute… definitely smaller than Violet was. He looked into my eyes and I immediately fell in love. Another little cry emerged from his perfect mouth.
Jill wiped down Riley while Kachina wiped me down. I had blood on my hands and arms and fingers from holding this brand new baby, but I did not ever feel unclean by it at all. It seemed like there was a lot of blood, so I was certain I tore. When Jill checked me, though, she said I looked great. Not a single evidence of any tearing on my perineum. Those hot compresses and olive oil (and the whole “don’t push” trick) really worked!
Violet cried, “I have a BROTHER!” and came over right away to do her special job – put on his baby bonnet. She kissed his brand new little head and gently touched him with her hands. Her hands were so big against his tiny body! When did she get to be so big?
Rick was still sitting behind me. Our daughter was on his lap and our son was in my arms. His umbilical cord was still attached, still pulsating. And yet he was already a part of our family. We looked at his face, kissed his wrinkled forehead, and marveled at the incredible miracle God chose us to experience for a second time. And for awhile there, time did not exist.
~ ~ ~ ~
After about 5 or 10 minutes the cord stopped pulsing. It was about time to deliver the placenta. Jill and Kachina took away the birthing stool and propped me and my new son up on pillows on the floor. Jill clamped the cord and handed Rick the scissors, and Rick severed the connection that tied our baby boy to me. He was now his own man.
My dad had to get to work. He was supposed to have left a while ago, but just couldn’t break away from the miracle he was witnessing. I was so happy he had been there and was able to take pictures.
With a small push, the placenta came out with ease. It was a beautiful, huge, purplish-blue mass. Jill was impressed at how nice it looked, and then explained to us (and the audience) all about it. She showed us the side where the cord was attached, saying that this was the part that faced the baby. It was very smooth. She invited us to feel it. It was rubbery and kind of squishy. The veins were lumpy and reminded me of the back of an old lady’s hands. The veins branched up and over the placenta just like branches on a tree. Jill told us how, in the world of midwifery, the placenta is called the “tree of life” for the baby, because the branches nourish the growing child. She then turned it over to inspect the part that was attached to my body. That side was not nearly as pretty. It was lumpy and looked kind of like a slab of ground beef. She checked for any missing parts (there were none) and calcification (minor, mainly because he was 5 days late). She gave it a clean bill of health and asked if we would like to keep it to plant in the yard. After a momentary vision of Barabbas digging it up and dragging it through the house flashed before my eyes, I said, “nope! I’m just fine with having seen it!” I have pictures to remind me what it looked like.
It was time to get me moved onto the bed. Jill asked for the Depends pads (more absorbent than just regular Maxi-pads) and an old pair of undies for me. I told Rick to go into the drawer and pull out these awful pink ones I was saving just for the occasion. They were old and even had a hole in the side. They were definitely a pair that I didn’t mind getting ruined. Well you would have thought I had just asked Rick to bring me my uterus. He grabbed the panties by the elastic with just his thumb and forefinger and flung them toward Jill. Um, hi. You were just fondling the placenta and you can’t touch my panties??
Jill and Kachina helped me get onto the bed with my newborn son, who by this time had discovered my boobies and was very fond of them. My mom and sisters were downstairs with Valerie pouring champagne into glasses for everyone to have. They brought a glass up for me and another for Jill, who downed it in one shot and let out a HUGE belch! What a gal!
It was time for Jill to check the baby. She listened to his heartbeat and lung sounds and checked all his organs. She measured his head and chest circumference and checked his cord stump for the three blood vessels. Then it was time to weigh the baby!! She brought out a fabric sling and an old-fashioned hanging scale. She placed Riley in the sling and he started pooping! It was like the Le Brea Tar Pits bubbling out of his little butt. It was sooooo gross! At least we know his system is working!! We cleaned him (and the sling) up and hung the rings on each end of the sling onto the scale as Liane lifted him up to see his weight… 8 pounds 4 ounces (Just what Melinda predicted)! They put him back down on the bed and Liane measured him – 21 ¼ inches long! He’s a tall boy!
What more could I ask for? Never once was I worried about not being in the hospital. Never once did I miss the beeping of monitors, the brisk pace of the nurses, or the uncomfortable birthing bed. Never once did I regret having a baby in a candlelit room with Mozart playing softly in the background, surrounded by family and friends, my husband and my daughter. I had a perfect, healthy baby and a beautiful birthing experience. And I would do it again.
