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A Birth Story for Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms in Ojai!

A few weeks ago, I posted a story about the birth of my son, Forty Years Ago, in the Small Town of Ojai
In celebration of Mother's Day, I'd like to share with you the story of the birth of my daughter at the home of Beatrice Wood

Birth and death, the two great mysteries of life, are all but hidden from view in our modern culture. By the time I was pregnant with my second child, I was much better educated about childbirth and realized more fully what I had been up against fourteen years earlier, when I gave birth to my first child at age eighteen.

In the intervening years, while I was studying to be a yoga teacher in San Francisco, the publishers of Yoga Journal organized a conference of pioneers in the birth movement. The panel of speakers presented pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding from a natural and spiritual perspective, in line with yoga philosophy. One of the speakers was the French obstetrician, Frederick Leboyer, author of the revolutionary book, Birth Without Violence .
Leboyer was a student of BKS Iyengar and his book on prenatal yoga, Inner Beauty, Inner Light became my bible during this pregnancy.

On the conference panel with Dr. Leboyer was Suzanne Arms, author of Immaculate Deception and other groundbreaking books and films on birth. When I heard her speak I wanted to jump out of my seat with joy as she described the natural birth experience I had longed for when I was eighteen.

So well hidden is the sacred rite of birth that after thirty-two years I still had not actually witnessed a single baby being born. Talking with mothers who had their babies at home, and studying the books by Leboyer, Arms and others gave me the confidence to again try a home birth.

I obtained the names of several midwives from women who had had a home birth. I wanted to find an experienced midwife who knew how to handle emergencies, someone skilled in monitoring the labor and recognizing deviations from the norm which require hospitalization. I wanted someone who was also attuned to the psychological and spiritual aspects of birth.

I found all this and more in a woman named Ananda. She had trained for four years with a doctor and had delivered over 125 babies. Her services included frequent prenatal checkups. She took a complete medical history to determine whether or not I was a good candidate for a home birth. I only had to see a doctor once for a blood test, to make sure I was getting enough iron.

During the early part of my pregnancy my husband Lyn and I had been living at the home of our friend Beatrice Wood We returned there about two weeks before the baby was due. Beatrice was almost 90 years old and she had traveled the world, but had never seen a baby being born. This was her golden opportunity. I spent the last days of my pregnancy napping, cooking, doing prenatal yoga, taking long walks, and puttering around the house.

Every morning I promised Beatrice that, “The baby will arrive today for sure. See how much it has dropped.” After days of unfulfilled promises, Beatrice threatened me in jest with eviction if I didn't produce something within 24 hours! I finally did go into labor on the very day Beatrice had an important appointment in Los Angeles.

Labor Begins

My labor began in the late evening with mild cramps. Around 2 a.m. I took a long hot bath, then slept till six in the morning. By 8 a.m. I felt very uncomfortable and tried to convince my husband that the baby would come that day. However I was not officially due for another week, and he guaranteed me the baby wouldn't come that day. He assured Beatrice she should keep her appointment in LA, and then he took off for work.

By 9 a.m., the cramps were feeling bad and I called up Ananda. She said she'd come over about noon to check on me. “Noon!” I thought to myself. “That’s three hours away. I better get ready to have this baby on my own!”

Fortunately, the woman who was house-keeping for Beatrice that day was also a masseuse, and she periodically gave me a nice back rub. However, the cramps got worse. I finally realized that no one believed me after so many days of crying “wolf,” but this was the real thing.

These were the days before cell phones and my husband and the midwife were both out of range of a land line. I tried to vacuum the bedroom and set out the birth supplies. I kept kneeling on all fours to try to get comfortable, just as I did in my prenatal yoga classes. I finally told the house-keeper she better finish vacuuming and cleaning the room for me.

I was beginning to feel depressed and the constant cramping was wearing down my spirit. Where was my husband when I needed him? Why wasn't he around to help! I called my sister to tell her I “might” be in labor. Her second child had arrived after about two hours of labor, a week before the due date. She tracked down my husband and convinced him to head on home.

By now it was getting close to noon. Where was the midwife? I went outside and walked around the circular driveway a dozen times, trying to time the intervals in between the cramps. I could hardly believe it was all happening in broad daylight. I rested against the giant rocks near the house and gazed up at the panoramic view of the glorious Topa Topa mountains. I tried to calm down and orient myself. It felt so good to be out in nature in the warmth of the sun. With the expansive views of the mountains and the vast blue sky above, I felt a deep connection with Mother Earth.

Finally the midwife arrived around noon. An internal exam revealed that I was 4 centimeters dilated, 90 percent effaced, and at 0 station. I was progressing normally, but still had a ways to go.

By then my husband had arrived and the midwife suggested that I might go for a short walk. As I stepped outside, the next contraction was so powerful that I returned to the bedroom. There I had a full view of the majestic mountains from my window. With each contraction I hung onto my husband for dear life and concentrated on the glorious view before me.

The contractions were much more powerful then I had anticipated. I was thirty-two years old and this felt very different from what I remembered giving birth at age eighteen. It felt like my body was squeezed in a vice…very tight…tighter…and then suddenly, release.

As the contractions grew ever more powerful, I wanted the company of other women.

Two friends, who happened also to be labor and delivery nurses and wanted to witness a home-birth, had arrived by now. One massaged my back, while the other gave me a foot rub. I wanted and needed sympathy and support. Just when I began to think I had suffered all I could take, someone would bring me a cold, delicious drink of fresh apple juice spiked with two packets of EmergenC, full of vitamins and minerals.

Ananda and my husband reminded me to breathe more calmly. By now it was late afternoon and the setting sun was streaming through the window. The sunlight had a powerful, calming effect on me, as I assumed a classic seated yoga pose.

I noticed that my husband’s T-shirt had a tear in it, and I asked him to humor me by changing into a nicer new shirt. Even though by then I was down to my birthday suit, I somehow felt he should dress up for this occasion!

A few times I tried to lie down on the bed, but the midwife advised that the labor would go faster if I remained upright. At 3:30 in the afternoon I was 10 centimeters dilated-- the point when I could begin to push the baby out.

As I was walking from the window over to my bed, the bag of primordial waters broke at last. It was like a water balloon splashing all over the rug. I was amazed by the quantity of water and half expected the baby to follow right along, like a fish, swimming out of the ocean onto dry land.

A New Passenger

Before I began to push, Ananda asked all of us present to form a circle, holding hands, to share a moment of silent meditation to welcome “the new passenger.” When I heard her speak those words, I burst into quiet tears and truly felt my heart opening to the new little being about to enter my life. That moment did more to calm and center me than anything else. I felt the love and support of the people around me and the spiritual forces guiding me through this event. As the tears flowed, I was overcome with a sense of release and relief.

At about 3:45 p.m., I began to push. All those yoga squats practiced every day during my pregnancy were finally going to pay off! I tried various positions -- for a while I was on my hands and knees on the floor-- and ended up semi-squatting with my husband and a friend supporting my back. All the while the room was being transformed for the delivery. Sterile sheets and receiving blankets were laid out. I heard the tea kettle whistling. Someone brought in a stack of hot oil packs to help prevent tearing. A mirror was set up so I could see the baby’s head beginning to make brief appearances. I was overjoyed when Beatrice and another friend arrived. I could feel their love and quiet support.

I looked out the window and saw that the sun was setting behind the mountains. I was acutely aware that soon it would be night. I was communing with the sun, cooperating, not fighting the process. As the sun began to disappear, someone turned on a soft light. I felt an immense peace descend upon the room. The midwife rechecked the fetal heart tones. All was well.

Just as the contractions were much stronger than I anticipated, the pushing took longer and required greater effort than I had imagined. My body felt eerie and unreal, and I remember suddenly yelling, “Somebody do something!” I looked out the window and saw that the sun had disappeared. At 5 p.m. I gave one more mighty push.

Forever etched on my consciousness will be the utter relief of the head finally bursting forth, followed quickly by the body. Suddenly a delicious, wet, slippery and very pink little girl was on my breast. Her eyes were wide open and she nursed almost immediately. Someone gave me a cup of warm Sheppard’s Purse tea. My husband waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsating before cutting it. I expelled the placenta soon after.

Buddha Baby

We floated Monica Ellen in a warm baby bath and she looked as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep, very serene and at peace.

As I looked at this baby I was aware that her gentle, peaceful birth did not disturb her innate tranquility. She was still in the Garden of Eden, our original, unconditioned state. I could sense that she came from Source and was still deeply connected to Source. I will never forget the special feeling of divine energy she embodied, as she was now in this world but not yet of it.

Ananda quietly asked everyone to leave the room so that Lyn and I could be alone with our new baby. Everyone was attuned to the moment and understood it was time to tip-toe out.

A little while later, my two nurse friends escorted me to the shower. The hot water felt heavenly. What a long, incredible day it had been! I could hear the midwife and Beatrice laughing in the kitchen. I found out later that Beatrice talked about the birth for months afterwards!

After I put on clean clothes, I went back to bed with my new baby. I felt total happiness. Monica was gracious enough to sleep on her daddy’s chest six hours straight, her first night on Planet Earth, while I got some well-earned rest!

Adapted from Autobiography of a Yogini


Comments (4)

Just one of the many wonderful elements of this story is the way it begins..... How very odd that birth and death remain almost totally hidden from view in our strange modern culture..... both shrouded under the heavy cloak of medical authority and technology.

Thank you so much for shining the broad light of day upon this mystery and miracle of Nature.

THE PERFECT TEACHER

Being a Mother is always an adventure. You never know what pearls of wisdom your little darlings are going to come up with next. When I was about 26 years old, I divorced my first husband, which left me alone to raise my precocious 3-year-old son. Little Todd was the wise observer in the family. You could always count on him to give you expert advice.

At that time I was living in Minneapolis studying at the university. I wasn't sure what I wanted to major in, and I desperately needed to commit to something so I could establish some meaning in my life. I called up a friend, a big funny-looking guy, and we went out to an ice cream parlor. We took little Todd with us. I ordered a big massive chocolate sundae and was licking and eating away, when my friend asked me the dreaded question, "What's next in your life?"

I stopped licking and suddenly went catatonic. "I don't know," I quietly stammered. "My life seems so meaningless I just can't get a handle on my direction. I thought about it, prayed about it, even did my astrology chart. I still feel lost. I just don't know what to commit myself to!"

I started to cry. I felt so useless. My friend reached over to comfort me, when we heard my three- year-old munchkin trying to say something. I looked up to see little Todd sitting in his high chair, happily eating ice cream. As he noticed our attention, he leaned forward, spoon in hand and stated clearly, "Commit yourself to me!"
I couldn't believe what I'd actually heard. "What did you say?" I asked incredulously.

"Mom," he repeated, "commit yourself to me."

My friend and I looked at each other in silence. A perfect solution from a perfect teacher.

(from Moms Come First! Three Steps to Enlightened Parenting- Part I: Kids are the Perfect Teachers)

Happy Moms Day - the Perfect Gurus!


What a culture we live in, that has so conditioned us to believe that Birth -- the most Natural of all processes! -- has got to be mediated by teams of medical specialists, with their scalpels and forceps and needles and anaesthetics and timetables and all other tools of their peculiar trade!

bag of primordial waters? yikes!

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