My birth story
People often ask me what led me to birth work. If I go right the way back, maybe it started with my own birth story. I grew up knowing the challenges my parents had faced to have my Mam’s birth choices supported, but also what an amazing, life changing experience it had been for her to birth me at home, on her own terms, surrounded by people she loved and trusted.
About a year after I started birth work, shortly before my birthday, my Mam sent me some photos of my birth account, which she had typed out all those years ago and long since forgotten. At the time it had been published in the Irish Home Birth Association newsletter. How charmed I was that she had come across it in a pile of old paperwork. It felt so special to read it and connect with my parents, with that time of our lives.
I'm in awe of how well Mam knew herself then, how she carved out a birth experience for us that was so unique for the time (and indeed for now). I still can't read it without welling up. Thanks, Mam. By birthing me on your own terms, you gave me a very special gift that has stayed with me for life. I share my Mam’s account below, with notes from me in italics.
Lydia's birth: June 1985
Long before I became pregnant I decided that, if possible, I wanted a home birth. The fact that this was my first pregnancy was regarded as a major hurdle, but fortunately Dr. O'Cleirigh was open to my ideas and took me on – provided I had a midwife. It took a wearying 6 months to find Dolores Staunton (an independent midwife) by which stage we'd of course been regaled with innumerable horror stories. The kindest reaction was "You're very brave .....", but quite honestly I wouldn't have had the courage to take on hospital procedure as well as the unknown experience of labour.
Labour started six days before my due date, at 4.30 a.m. I awoke to a sensation resembling a strong electric shock, lived with it for a while before realising that it was coming every five minutes. When I phoned Dolores at 8 a.m. she checked over my symptoms but cautioned that the labour might stop at any stage. When she'd seen me a couple of days beforehand she'd thought the head quite high.
We had masses of things to do anyway so we kept going. Des convinced me I needed a swim at ten o' clock so I waddled six lengths, stopping every few minutes with a dart of pain. I had to interview a woman in Monkstown that day following an ad I'd put in the paper about an au-pair. She, a doctor's wife, fairly sent me packing when she realised my full condition.
The next few hours were whiled away as I paced up and down stairs, tormenting Des with urgent tasks like cleaning the bedroom windows. I felt very withdrawn and turned in on myself, but so relieved that I hadn't to cope with all the distractions of hospital. Dolores kept me in touch with reality by phoning regularly and insisted on coming over at 2.30. I was surprised to be about 4cm dilated, but she warned that the baby might not be born till next morning. She suggested I find something definite to do – some baking perhaps, or could I visit a friend? I found my knitting and succeeded in casting on about ten stitches!
The whole thing began to get a bit rough at this stage. The pains seemed so big, as though I was being thrown slow-motion-style at a wall: a great bang, then the shuddering after effects. I'd been savouring the thought of a bath for ages and could wait no longer by five o' clock. Leboyer has talked about women being "out of their heads" at certain times during labour. I was certainly far gone at this stage. I focussed on images of my opening pelvis, of my poor baby making its way down the birth canal. I felt very agitated, got out of the bath and was no sooner propped up on the bed when the waters broke.
What blessed relief! After this the labour seemed calm and controlled. Dolores reckoned that I must have had a lot of water in front of the head and we were surprised that I was dilated so quickly. This was about seven thirty and baby Lydia came shooting into the world two hours later. By some strange chance she was born with her hand underneath her cheek, as though the two were attached. This gave Des and Dolores cause for anxiety in the last few minutes as they watched her emerge. I was squatting with my back against the wall and sensed that concern but decided to let them worry about it. Fortunately the only outcome was a small tear.
I'll never forget the sort of spiritual feeling in our bedroom during the days that followed. When friends came over the next day they wondered why we were still whispering. It was an amazing time for us, as wonderful and miraculous as birth should be.
To be practical, and in case it's of any help to someone else, I found the Balaskas' Active Birth and Ina May Gaskins Spiritual Midwifery invaluable for a "first-timer" like myself. Judith Crowes yoga classes and Ann Cox's Childbirth Trust classes gave me a lot of reassurance. I think that Sheena's oft. repeated recommendation that you ask friends to bring you a cake or a stew instead of flowers, is very sound advice. Dolores's daily visits for the week after the birth were fantastic – she gave us so much information and support.
Geraldine Leech-West.
