How would I write my birth experience?  As I look backward in reflection, I can lump the actions, during my months of pregnancy, into this overarching theme of a desire to take control of my labor and delivery story.  I researched natural child birthing and found a doula.  I had zero fear of physical pain.  I reasoned that there was no way that it could hurt as much as the excruciating emptiness of infertility.  My doula guided me toward a birthing course that used a variety of “outside the box” activities to find and release fears and anxieties about Nate’s upcoming birth.  Through a guided drawing meditation, with my non-dominant hand, I discovered my biggest fear was the thought of being constrained and tied down during labor.  I was taught the framework of a birth plan, and freedom of movement would be the foundation.  

Over the years, I had heard many stories from friends and family.  Most all the stories had unexpected surprises and very little control for the laboring mother and her partner.  Caesarean section surgeries seemed too common-too high of a statistic.  As I asked more questions, obstetric violence ran through many of them: doctor timed pitocin inductions, forced VBAC deliveries, episiotomies without consent, babies whisked away, and nurses who shamed mothers during their hospital stays.  

I had confidence in all my decisions and wishes before writing the plan that would require approval from my OB and Pediatrician.  My marketing background and research skills would be necessary tools for convincing their hesitancy through scientific proof.  I had to bargain with my OB that I would agree to a hospital birth – (he deemed me high risk at 38.5 years of age and a history of multiple miscarriages) – if he signed off on: no IV bag on a pole-only a line taped above my wrist; no drugs without my consent;  and, no episiotomy without my permission. He agreed to play a role as teammate, not dictator.  I knew my pediatrician socially as well as professionally and it took research studies that proved it was healthy for the baby to receive all the cord blood – for it to stop pulsating – before we cut it – to get him to sign off on my plan.  After the cord was cut, it would be my decision when he would leave me to be weighed and measured.  (I will never know if he was nervous or curious, or as a personal friend, but the pediatrician showed up and became part of the team at delivery.)

  Since no one had lived my story, I felt freedom from having to do it like anyone else. I got to finally experience the big belly baby shower from a close family friend, but then I decided to throw my own party and I named it: A Celebration of Motherhood. The guests were asked to bring a potluck dish that was a recipe that reminded them of women in their life.  No gifts were allowed, but the invitation included a white quilt square for them to decorate and bring with them. Their final ticket was to bring a bead. All of them would be strung together to create a gift of friendship. The energy that day was full of love and electricity.  The room buzzed with collective warmth and wisdom.  It was not a day to honor me, but a day to come together and rejoice in all things maternal.  All the fertility goddesses and Mother Earth were the guests of honor.  I had bloomed and grown confidence in mind and spirit as well as body.  I had immense gratitude for an “uneventful” pregnancy and the gift of the physical experience of feeling life move inside me.  Just as he did jumping jacks early in the pregnancy, he would give me continual reassurance as he constantly tumbled and somersaulted as we neared the day his upcoming due date: 02-22-2002.