Tane's Birth Story: The Healing Beauty of
Unassisted Homebirth
-by Micklyn
Le Feuvre-Smith
I live in South Africa, where the c-section rate
in private practice is over 50%. I think we are
second only to Brazil.
With my first child I had a bout of false labor
at 37 weeks, and, thinking it was the real thing,
went into the hospital. The doctor told me I would
have my baby in the morning. When it became obvious
(to her) that I was not really in labor, she didn't
tell me, instead she began to induce me, through
my IV, without my knowledge or consent.
I ended up having a c-section after a long and
unproductive labour. I thought the reason was
failure to progress- I only found out after wards
when I checked my chart that it was actually a
failed induction. I firmly believe that if they
had just sent me home to wait it out, I would
have been able to have a normal birth.
The memory of my first birth brings back in me
such feelings of intense degradation, humiliation
and violation. I have a memory of seeing my daughter's
screaming face, when they stuck her in front of
me as I lay crucified on the table, cut open,
naked, helpless. I didn't see her again for hours.
I don't know where she went, how long she cried,
what they fed her, who held her, or washed her
or dressed her.
People surrounded me on all sides- poking me
with fingers, needles, knives. Then abruptly I
was abandoned, sentenced to solitary confinement
until I was able to wriggle my toes.
Breastfeeding was a nightmare, I wads unable
to sit up and struggled to get my baby latched
on. By day 3 my nipples were bleeding, and each
feed was agony. As she latched on, tears would
roll down my face. But I was determined to feed
her and persevered.
On day 4 a nurse came to see why my baby cried
so much- she yanked open my gown and roughly tugged
on my nipple. "That's why she's crying, you
have no milk". I couldn't decide which was
worse- the humiliation of having someone treat
my breast with such rough disrespect or the pain
caused by her brutal fingers.
After that they gave me medication, Eglynol,
to help me produce milk. As a result, for the
entire 13 months that I breastfed my baby, I was
dependent on this medicine for my milk. If I ever
stopped taking it, my milk would dry up within
a day. Nobody told me it would have side-effects-
such as loss of sexual desire, weight gain or
that once I started taking it I wouldn't be able
to stop. Nobody told me. That was the worst part
of everything... throughout my birth, I was kept
in the dark about what was happening to my body,
what they were doing to my body. I was given no
choices, I knew of no alternatives.
When my husband Greg said he wanted another child,
I knew I didn't. He wouldn't quit going on about
it, and now I'm glad he didn't. I gave in eventually
and fell pregnant immediately. Only then did I
realize how my previous birth had affected me-
I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.
I forbade my husband to even mention birth- because
if he did, I would start shaking or crying...
I would want to throw up and I would go into a
panic. I couldn't talk about it- all the feelings
of humiliation, violation, helplessness and anger
came back. At work, to torture myself, I would
read birth stories on the Internet. Doing so would
make me feel incredibly nauseous, but it was as
if I couldn't help myself- I kept on reading and
reading.
One day I came across an unassisted birth story.
I couldn't believe it. This was what I longed
for. In fact, shortly after I fell pregnant, I
said to Greg, "if it was up to me I'd have
this baby by myself in the kitchen." I had
never realized that unassisted birth was an option.
I had never heard of it. I began to read more
avidly than ever, devouring every unassisted birth
birth story I could get my hands on, and reading
every article or essay on unassisted birth on
the net. I didn't tell my husband anything. By
this time I was determined to have a unassisted
birth, even if it meant a solo unassisted birth.
I was too scared to tell him, in case he tried
to stop me.
Because of that, and because of my previous cesarean,
we were seeing an OB/GYN- I chose a woman, because
I thought I'd feel more comfortable with her.
What a mistake! To start with, she insisted on
an internal exam at every visit. She forbade me
to attempt a VBAC insisting that I would have
a cesarean 10 days early, and she picked up on
my nervousness and claimed I made it stressful
for her! Needless to say, we changed doctors.
Our new doctor was supportive of our plans for
a VBAC- in the beginning. Towards the end of the
pregnancy, however, he had completely changed
his tune. I think he would have upset me a lot
more if I hadn't secretly already decided on a
unassisted VBAC. He used to say things like, "they
can't prove a natural birth is more safe for the
baby than a c-section." And- "what if
you tear?" And- "it's the safety of
your baby I'm worried about." And- "at
the very first sign of something going wrong,
I'm going to cut!" When I told him I'd been
reading up on the Internet about birth, he actually
said, "the Internet is all just lies!"
Another time he admitted that a c-section would
be more convenient for him; with a natural birth
I would phone him at three in the morning and
wake him up, and he'd be grumpy.
I could see his growing frustration with me,
and I started to really enjoy my visits- just
because it was so fun to stand up to him! For
the first time in my life, I felt I had authority
over the doctor, rather than the other way around.
There is a real culture of doctor worship in this
country, people are very afraid to contradict
or disagree with their doctors. We're not very
good at standing up for ourselves. (I'm generalizing,
of course.) At my thirty-nine week checkup, he
said he had to do an internal examination. I refused.
He got really angry and said to me, "You
don't even know why I want to do one! I need to
check if your pelvis is big enough!" I wanted
to burst out laughing.
I'd been talking to Greg about the things I'd
been learning on the Internet, about the complications
caused by various interventions and the problems
with hospital or medically-managed births. I hadn't
mentioned unassisted birth, not yet. It was only
when I saw his growing impatience with the doctor
(my husband was very supportive of my wish for
a VBAC) that I finally felt safe enough to tell
him my plans. This was a week before the baby
was due! His response was amazing, he said, "I'm
right behind you, my love. Why didn't you tell
me before? I trust you would not put our child
in danger, I know what kind of a mother you are
and I support you one hundred percent." Finally
I was ready to have my unassisted birth. I was
at peace, knowing I had his support and that he
would be there for me.
I was woken up by a fairly painful contraction
at about three in the morning of the 6th of March.
I was at 41 weeks and 2 days. (Of course the doctor
had been going on about post-dates complications
and stillborn babies- in fact, he wanted me to
have a c-section at 10 days overdue to avoid complications.
When I said that I personally viewed a c-section
as a serious complication, he said: "well
I don't!")
I had been having lots of strong prodromal labor
for the last four days. I read that one remedy
for prodromal or false labor is to drink a glass
of wine and have a warm bath before bed, so that
it doesn't keep you up and exhaust you before
the real thing starts. So on Sunday night, I had
had a glass of wine, and it worked. On Monday
night I had another glass, but it didn't help
the way it did the night before. I knew something
was happening. Also because my Dad had phoned
and told me they were coming a day earlier than
planned (and I so badly wanted to have the baby
before they arrived- they didn't know about my
plans for a unassisted birth), I was convinced
that something would start in the night.
It did. At about 3:30 a.m., I woke Greg up to
keep me company, although he dozed on and off
and kept on asking me, "is this really it?
Are you sure?" Eventually I said that I would
NOT wake him up unless I was convinced that this
was it, so would he please stop asking and start
being supportive? I went downstairs and made him
a cup of tea to help him wake up, then we chatted
while I paced our bedroom, dealing with each contraction.
They were coming between 5 and 10 minutes apart.
At 6:00 a.m. my two older kids woke up (we have
a blended family) and I told them that when they
got home from school, the baby might be here.
Greg took them to school, all excited about the
prospect of meeting their little sister. While
he was gone my labor took a pause- it's the only
way I can describe it- it was as if my body didn't
want to continue until he returned. Sure enough,
when he came back from dropping them off the contractions
picked up again immediately.
I could tell he was fidgety, with not enough
to occupy him, so I suggested he get a video,
so he did- “Arlington Road”. I remember
saying towards the end of the video when it gets
all violent and I was heading into transition
(I think) that I was supposed to be in a darkened
room with candles and gentle music, not witnessing
terror and explosions- this was ridiculous!
Anyway, throughout the morning and the movie,
I found that the contractions came quicker if
I was standing. If I sat down there would be as
much as 10 to 15 minutes between them, although
then they were much more intense. So I forced
myself to stand, only sitting for 2 minutes after
each contraction passed, and then standing up
again- which would immediately bring on the next
one. It took a lot of willpower to stand up each
time, knowing the pain would hit when I did! Some
of the time I leaned against the wall, pushing
the small of my back against the cool plaster.
At the height of the contractions I would yell
to Greg to put pressure on my back- and yell even
harder if he wasn't quick about it. The baby had
been lying posterior all along, so I'd been expecting
back labor. In a way I'm glad because it gave
him something to do.
I was dying to get in the bath, but thought that
I better wait as long as possible. I'd had no
show and was too scared to check for dilation-
if nothing was happening, I didn't want to know!
I held out until the video was over and then got
in the bath. I plugged up the overflow outlet
so we could fill the bath to the top, and told
Greg that I didn't care if it did overflow. He
was so patient with me all day, I'd been ordering
him around since the early morning and it was
1:30 p.m. now and I wasn't getting any easier
to deal with. I was shaking a bit by this time
and I'm not sure how much the water is supposed
to help but I think it did help a little, if only
to relax into between contractions. I screwed
up my courage to check myself at this stage and
I think I must have been around 6 or 7 centimeters
dilated, I could feel the membranes bulging- it
was so encouraging.
The next 2 hours sped by, I remember telling
Greg in the morning that I thought the baby would
come around 2:30; she came at 3:00. I was starting
to yell a little and after every contraction would
say "wait wait, I'm not ready, let me have
a break before the next one!" God answered
my prayer, because the contractions never came
one on top of the other... right until the very
end, I felt just able enough to cope. Just before
the end, for the first time I said, "I can't
do this, what am I going to do" and really
meant it, but then it was nearly over.
I checked myself again around then and the membranes
were right down. I was just dying for the waters
to break. I was on my knees and Greg kept urging
me to try squatting, but during a contraction
I couldn't move, and in between I didn't want
to. (Because I knew that the second I moved another
contraction would hit. If I kept as still as possible
then there was a little gap to breathe.) Eventually,
as one was starting I squatted and my waters broke.
I yelled, "The waters broke!" Greg said,
"did they?" And I (in agony) said, "NO
NO NO NO NO!" so he thought they hadn't and
didn't realize that they had until I said, "I
can feel her head, it's right there!" Up
until then I hadn't pushed at all. In fact, I
never experienced an urge to push, I pushed voluntarily
when I felt her head with my hand, because I just
wanted the pain to be over. Also I had heard that
pushing eased the pain. Well, that certainly didn't
seem to be my experience!
I had expected the requisite twenty minutes to
an hour and a half of pushing, but things went
very fast after that, and I remember screaming-
"I have never been in such pain in my life!"
And, "No no go back, go back!" -but
mostly I was saying, "God help me God help
me God help me" and then I felt like I was
splitting in half. I felt myself tear, and then
the head was out, then half of her body. I was
checking for the umbilical cord, and didn't at
first realize I was checking around her ribcage!
The rest of her emerged seconds later. I picked
her up, and Greg was saying, "that's amazing,
that's so amazing, I have never seen anything
so amazing in my life!" I remember thinking,
"what did you expect?" He just sounded
so surprised!
She was pinky-lilac and went red really quickly.
She was breathing fine, but her cord was very
short and wasn't pulsing like I expected it to
be. I couldn't get her to latch on- mostly because
it was awkward and I couldn't pull her up high
enough. So I held her like that for about 45 minutes,
just sitting in the bath while we marveled. Then
Greg had to cut the cord so I could move- I was
very uncomfortable, and didn't feel I could deliver
the placenta in the position I was in (sitting
upright in the tub). He took her for a while and
wrapped her in a warm towel. I moved back onto
my knees, and the placenta came after about ten
minutes. The placenta was intact and everything
seemed fine, so we set about cleaning up. Then
we went upstairs with her after I washed off (I
needed to sit on a bed).
Greg phoned his parents and then we phoned mine,
only to find out they'd be arriving in about two
hours- just in time to help us with the older
kids and give them supper. Talk about perfect
timing! When they found out we were at home and
had given birth unassisted, I couldn't believe
my mom's reaction. She said, "that's brilliant,
that's so amazing, you wonderful wonderful girl,
I'm so proud of you!" And this was before
she knew anything about unassisted birth or why
hospital births are unsafe. I was so happy.
We weighed Tane and found she weighed 9 pounds,
which was kind of what I was expecting. Greg fetched
the kids, my parents arrived, and we all had supper.
It was so good to be home. Later I checked my
tear and decided to do without stitches, because
I really couldn't face going to the hospital.
I was happy where I was. Five weeks later, my
three to four centimeter tear had healed perfectly,
all by itself. (About the tear- it was pretty
painful for the first ten days, but that forced
me to take it easy, which was a good thing, and
I suspect part of the plan. Also, I have a bidet,
which was wonderful, and I used salt water to
cleanse and heal- but that was about it.)
Tane didn't sleep at all the first night, but
since then she's been an angel and is sooo good.
I am so thrilled with our unassisted birth, and
Greg is too- he delights in telling people just
to see their reaction. And he's wonderful, whenever
they congratulate him on delivering the baby he
says- "no, I didn't do anything- Micklyn
delivered the baby, I was just there!" We
think it's funny how the first thing everyone
says is, "what about the cord?" As if
this is the most difficult and dangerous problem-
How Do You Tie The Cord?
This birth has made up for so much for me, I
am so relaxed this time and I've found breastfeeding
a breeze, unlike last time after an induction,
epidural and c-section. I truly believe that God
was with us throughout, and that just as babies
are created in intimate and private places, they
can be born in the same protected spaces. I have
no regrets. I know I would do it again.
Also by Micklyn:
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