I had always assumed I would do the traditional thing when I got pregnant.  Continue on with my ob/gyn practice that I had a great relationship with, give birth to our baby in the hospital, and go on my merry way. Alas...it wasn't meant to be. Thankfully!! :)

I had gone to see my gyn for what I knew was yet another urinary tract infection. And I was about to be put on yet another round of antibiotics and pain medication. I had minor surgery years earlier meant to alleviate the problem, but it hadn't. Nor had the medication. I had finally decided to try nurtional therapy. It had managed to work when all else failed. I had been infection free for nearly over a year. Now it was back - seeming more painful than ever.

So, there I sat in the examination room. The nurse came back in to ask if I knew I was pregnant??? And then asked if I was happy about that??? (Still don't get where that was coming from...) And then she asked if I still wanted the medication meant for pain relief. Well, let's see..."No, I didn't know I was pregnant," "And yes, I'm thrilled!" and "No, I don't want any medication."

Considering I was nearly doubled over in pain when I arrived, she didn't seem to believe I wouldn't want the drugs. And even if I denied the pain meds, the antibiotics were not negotiable, she said. REALLY??? But, I am the client, right? This is my body and my child, right? I just shrugged, took the prescription for the antibiotics and tried to not look so doubled over as I left the office.

I went to the pharmacy and I got the prescription filled. And I looked at the bottle. And it felt so wrong. I had relied on this medication to *cure* me for years. It occassionally masked the symptoms, but never cured anything. The only relief I had truly found was when I relied on my body to heal itself.

I was in pain, alot of pain. But it felt akin to that darkest of night you get right before the dawn. I knew there was another way. I drove to a wooded park. I climbed to the top of this darn hill (yeah, still massive pain) and I sat down. I talked to myself, I talked to that baby, I talked to God or whatever, and then I was quiet. When I walked down the hill, I was in pain, but it had already begun to lessen. Within a few days, my infection was gone.. It had taken me my entire life and a new soul inside of me to set me on this path...once there, I never looked back.

So, I'm pregnant. And I begin to read and read and read. I return for a prenatal appointment with my ob/gyn. I was going to a large and reputable practice. I knew they had several doctors, but I had always been able to schedule my annual exams with my favorite female doctor. Now they were telling me this was not how a pregnant *patient* was handled. I would rotate among the six of them and then the one on call would *deliver* my baby. This felt so wrong.

I am saved from having a huge falling out with them when I relocate with my husband to Canada. Ahhh, I think, socialized medicine, surely these people have a minimalist view of care. Surely I will get my intervention free pregnancy and birth. Not exactly. I see two more ob's. The first has a major issue with the revalation that I don't drink cow's milk. She is unable to be convinced I can receive calcium - or make breastmilk of my own - if I continue to deny my body cow's milk. The next ob seems fine enough...until I show up with a birth plan at four months pregnant. She began our meeting by smiling -and by the end was barely able to keep the offended look from her face. She ended the meeting by telling me there were no guarantees about anything we discussed, and our birth plan wasn't necessary.

So, I'm in Canada sitting by the pool (can't work, I'm illegal in Canada) reading _Childbirth Without Fear_ by Grantley Dick-Read. It all begins to come together. I'm not having a doctor attend this birth, I'm not going to a hospital. This is not a pathological event needing medical management. I'm having a homebirth. And yet another shift of consciousness takes us further down that path.

My husband is so completely agreeable to the homebirth and midwife decision. I often meet women who need to do some convincing of their partners. For us, the homebirth decision was such an extension of our natural course of life, it seemed the only way to go.

I began researching homebirth only to find it is often surrounded by misinformation or no information at all. I called hospitals - only to be told homebirth was illegal, or midwives were illegal, or that they had never heard of such a thing. I tried contacting midwives, but found nurse-midwives often don't attend homebirths. Sheesh, this had all seemed so simple at first.

By five months pregnant, I'm getting prenatal care, but have no idea who will attend this birth. We move back to the states. Geoff has met a man who suggests taking a Bradley childbirth class. What a coincidence, I had just been reading about that very class. We decide to begin the class and worry about our midwife after that. So, I call the instructor of the class. She informs me that direct entry midwives who attend homebirths are doing so alegally in our state. That translates to *we - as a family - can have a homebirth; however, there is no law giving our midwife permission to attend that birth.* Yes, she could be arrested. This does not deter us from our decision, just convinces us all the more that legislation is not always a good thing for one's health.

The instructor gives me the name of a midwife. (For it seems, despite the grey area, there are many midwives in our state willing to jeapordize their legal well being for the sake of providing homebirth support. Thank goodness for these women.) I leave a message for the midwife at about 7:00pm. I get a call from her at 9:00pm. She is on her way home from a birth - calling from her car. We talk for an hour. That phone call made our decision. I heard what I needed to hear when she talked of the birth she had just been at. I heard what I needed to hear when she talked to me about our upcoming birth. Arranging to meet with her was just a formality. I knew we had our homebirth! :)

So, we meet with Maread (yeah, I changed the names to protect the innocent and bold) and the connection is completed for the three (four) of us. We are convinced we want her to attend our homebirth, but she won't let us commit that evening. She urges us to go home and talk, and think, and let her know later. The only thing we talk about on the ride home is how we will never get so radical that we homeschool, like she does. Ahh, but that was to come in time. ha-ha.

Our prenatals are just a delight. We go to her office/home and we talk. She rubs my belly and we talk. I pee in the cup and we talk. She takes my blood pressure and we talk. The appointments are at the most brief, an hour - and at their longest, over two hours.

Okay, so I'll try to speed this along here...

My estimated due date was somewhere around February 4th. Like so many 9 mo pregnant women, I am convinced I will be *early.* When I arrive for my prenatal a little less than two weeks before my date, I am anxious. I insist on being *checked.* (Though I had managed to get to a mental place where I trusted my body and the baby's to birth, I suppose I was not yet above giving pop quiz's to test that security.) Maread didn't think it was necessary, with a calm smile on her face she tried to explain how little the condition of my cervix really indicated an exact birth day. I must have been driving her crazy, because she finally agreed to give me an internal exam. It was Monday...and I was 1 centimeter dialated. I was certain I would have the baby that night. ;-)

Do I need to tell you I didn't give birth that night? Didn't think so. During the next couple of days, I began to give way to the thought that it could be awhile. My 26th birthday was on Friday - Geoff and I made plans to have one last dinner as a twosome for that night.

I woke up Wednesday evening with sensations. It was 11:00pm. We called Maread. After asking some questions and talking to us for a bit, she told us to get some sleep. We were to call her in the morning if nothing had changed.. I should have slept...I should have slept...I should have slept...I didn't.

I lie in bed all night thinking about my *contractions.* They seem so strong to me. In the morning, I really think I am going to have this baby any moment. We call Maread and she tells us to come in and she will check me. What??? No, I can't move, I tell Geoff. She's insane, I tell Geoff. (Little did I know at the time, but her asking us to come in was her way of judging where I really was with the labor. She had a hunch it was early labor, but that I was taking it pretty hard mentally.)

I feel every bump in the road on the way to Maread's. By the time we get there, I am weepy. When she checks me and tells me I am 3, I begin to cry. There is no way I can make it all the way through this. I already feel like a failure. Maread hugs me and gives me a homeopathic remedy for my anxiety. By the time we are half-way home, I am better. I guess it doesn't matter if it was the remedy or the hugs that helped.

I arrive home and call my Bradley teacher, Chloe, who is coming to the birth.. I tell her it's going to be any time. She says I sure don't sound like it. My mother in law brings groceries over for us. She is scared. She is sitting in our living room looking at me, and I can see the fear. The room is filled with all of this negative energy. I love her to death, but I have to ask Geoff to send her home.

At 7:30pm, I lose my mucos plug. The contractions seem to be getting stronger. Geoff has rented movies and I'm trying to concentrate while "Grumpy Old Men" plays in the background. It's more than I can take, I tell him it's got to go off.

We call my the mw and her apprentice, Julie, answers the phone. Julie is coming over - it's around 10:00pm on Thursday night, I think. We call my brother in law who is going to be video taping and he comes over and camps out on the couch.

I only want to be alone at this point. I really want Maread, but she's not there, yet. Julie and I don't have the same relationship...she's got everything set up mechanically, but I don't want her for labor support. We call Chloe and she comes over - big help to me. It's nearly 1:00am and I need Maread. I tell Geoff and he goes to find out what's keeping her. Julie tells him she didn't tell Maread we called earlier - she wanted to let her sleep. Since Julie had been checking me and I was still at 6, she hadn't thought calling Maread was necessary. She says we can call now - gee, thanks. (I didn't find out about any of this until the next day.)

By the time Geoff calls Maread, she is on her way out the door. She had felt *something* and had been unable to sleep all night. She had decided not to call and wake us, but to come over and wait outside the house until morning.

Julie checks me again right before Maread arrives. I am still at 6. Crap! Maread walks in the door to the bedroom, I don't think I've ever felt such a wave of calm come over me. She talks to me a bit - tells me about the crescent moon she saw on the way over - and then checks me. I'm at 10. :)

I don't want to push. For the entire pregnancy, I've been able to visualize labor, but not pushing. I retreat to the bathroom - which has been my haven for labor - to sit on the toilet again. I am feeling so much like I am on drugs. I can see everyone, but it's as if I'm looking through a tunnel. I can hear everyone, but it's as if their voices are muffled. I feel like they can't hear me talking, or maybe I can't even get the words from my head to my mouth. I am leaning on Chloe and squatting. Since neither Geoff nor I slept the night before, he's getting tired. I am managing to sleep between contractions. Then Maread asks how I'm doing, and do I want to push? Actually, I'm done, I say. I'm leaving - or they all have to. I'll finish tomorrow, I promise. I'm not kidding. Maread tells me she knows I'm not kidding, and maybe we'll try a couple of pushes before stopping.

I should note my brother in law comes in at this point. You know, we didn't even think to show this single young guy a birth video before this. Years later, he will admit he thought he would walk in, I would be covered in a sheet, they would lift the baby out from under the sheet, and that would be that. Well, that's not how it happened - and he says we changed his life forever. Poor guy!! I'll always love him in a special way for being there for us.

Chloe is taking picutures now. Julie is on one side of me, Geoff on the other, and Maread is applying compresses of warm water and olive oil. In the midst of wave after wave of intensity that my contractions are bringing on, I am soothed beyond description by those compresses. I don't recall any burning ring, just the comfort of the compresses.

At one point, Geoff asks if he can go to the bathroom. I manage a pretty assertive, "NO." He goes anyway...hhhmmm...Chloe takes over at my right side..

This is all so new to Geoff. Though he trusts in the inherent wisdom of our bodies, there has been little to prepare him for the awesome and yet simplistic event of the birth of his own child. He gives me what I need most from him at this time...his love. He is not my coach, but my best friend and my partner. I am forever grateful he allows the women we have trusted to be here, to take the lead.

Geoff returns and I push and then retreat from the pushing. I'm not convinced I will not split in two. I am trying to summon the images of women birthing en masse to draw strength from. It's not working. I can only focus on Maread.. I look in her eyes and then I see the women. I feel her mother me as I am on the verge of becoming a mother myself. I feel the path and the connection to the mothers in the room with me. They lead me down the path they've walked so many times. Not carrying me, just steadying my steps as we go.

Alexander was born at 7:08am, still in the sac, as the sun rose and the snow began to fall. A birthday for him, a rebirth-day for me.

~ Traci (Bbynosbst)

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