Birth of Monica at the home of Beatrice Wood

by Suza Francina on December 16, 2010

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.

Every year on December 16th, my daughter Monica’s birthday, I remember her birth at the home of Beatrice Wood in Upper Ojai. The sun was setting, birth was imminent, and the midwife, Ananda, asked everyone present to say a prayer to “welcome the new passenger to Planet Earth.” Even now, 29 years later, that moment is forever etched in my consciousness as my heart burst wide open as she said those words. Everyone in the room, including Beato, who at age 90 had never seen a baby born, was in an altered state. So today, in celebration of my daughter’s 29th birthday, I’d like to post some of my favorite memories of her birth-day. 

The Birth of Monica at the Home of Beatrice Wood

So well hidden is the sacred rite of birth in our culture that at thirty-two years of age I still had not actually witnessed a single baby being born.

During the early part of my pregnancy my husband Lyn and I had been living at the home of our friend Beatrice Wood . I first met Beato at age eight and we were part of her extended family. We returned to her home in Upper Ojai 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, doing prenatal yoga, taking long walks, and puttering around the house, helping Beato with dinner parties, making myself useful.

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 youngest sister, Paula, to tell her I “might” be in labor.  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 Beato’s 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 came home in time for the birth.

I could feel the deep love and quiet support of everyone in the room.

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 also 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!  (And, in fact, she mentions it in her autobiography, I Shock Myself.)

After I put on clean clothes, I went back to bed. 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 Suza’s  forthcoming memoir on Life in Ojai

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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }

maggie phelps December 16, 2010 at 8:30 pm

Suza, what a lovely lovely account of your daughter’s birth. Would that more of our children could arrive in this manner. Thank you for your sharing.

Reply

Suza Francina December 17, 2010 at 5:40 am

Thank you, Maggie, for reading my story and for your lovely comment, which I appreciate very much! I wrote most of the story about four months after Monica’s birth and it was published in the Ojai Valley News. The editor, Fred Volz, told me it was the best thing I had ever written. Looking back on the years that I delivered a weekly column to his desk, I realize that he was my mentor and encouraged me to keep writing, even as I collected multiple rejection slips (both from real-life publishers and figuratively speaking!).

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Candy Pope December 17, 2010 at 7:02 am

Lovely Suza! Many thanks for sharing!

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Sonia Nordenson December 17, 2010 at 10:08 am

Darling Monica is still gentle and tranquil. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story of her birth.

And happy birthday, Monica!

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Jodie Miller December 17, 2010 at 1:47 pm

I was thinking the same thing as Sonia. Monica is still so gentle and tranquil. How is it that Monica is 29, Erin is 28, and you and I have not aged any since our girls were born? They have known each other all their lives!

Jodie Miller

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Suza December 19, 2010 at 7:37 pm

Jodie, don’t you know why we have not aged since our girls were born? Could it be because we live in Shangri La, the Land of eternal youth? Ha! Ha! I think we are becoming one of those tiresome old people who claim they feel so young inside…

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DK Crawford December 19, 2010 at 1:26 pm

Suza,
J’adore. I love that you lived this experience so many will never encounter and so many others and that you are writing about them. What an incredibly beautiful and brave story! Love the truths and descriptions and sensory memories. Love being a part of your journey back. ty!

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Suza December 19, 2010 at 7:28 pm

Thank you, DK, I love your writing too and feel honored by your words. And thank you also for your message on my Facebook page. The writer in me clicked her heels and jumped to the top of the Eucalyptus tree when she read your response!

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DK Crawford December 19, 2010 at 9:21 pm

Awwww love the image of you in the eucalyptus tree! This piece made me think both that you are an amazing word weaver but also about how bravely you’ve lived with both life and death. Both of the stories you wrote on those subjects have touched me so deeply and made me consider other ways possible in a world that doesn’t talk about such things. Shhhhhhhhh… They also made me want to live so much more boldly than I currently am. I cannot wait to read your book. When is being released into the world?

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Suza December 20, 2010 at 3:38 pm

Thank you, DK, “amazing word weaver,” is a high compliment that I’ll aspire to live up to! The release date of my next book is not set, yet, and, to be honest, I’m rewriting the entire proposal …. so have miles to go. But I’ll get there! And when the time comes to send out review copies (a sure sign that birth is eminent) I’m planning to send you a copy…

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Marisol Perry December 21, 2010 at 6:29 pm

Thank you, DK, “amazing word weaver,” is a high compliment that I’ll aspire to live up to! The release date of my next book is not set, yet, and, to be honest, I’m rewriting the entire proposal …. so have miles to go. But I’ll get there! And when the time comes to send out review copies (a sure sign that birth is eminent) I’m planning to send you a copy…

Reply

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