Home Birth of Mahlon

My birth of Mahlon

#HBAC (Homebirth after Cesarean)

A pregnancy and birth that healed.

My beautiful friend just shared her U2VBA3C. For you birth muggles, that's her 5th baby: 3 cesarean births, 1 vaginal birth, then this unassisted birth. And I just loved her story so much I feel like talking #birth. My beautiful sister also gave birth this week and she and her husband did such an amazing job throughout the labor. **sigh**Aaaah birth, birthy birth. Birth. I just love it.

Birthing Delilah taught me to love birth. I was fascinated by it while pregnant. But I fell in love through a pain free birth. Yes my birth with Delilah was...pain. Free. another sigh...amazing.

I was truly looking forward to giving birth to Granville. He was my #HBC (homebirth cesarean). My birth with him showed me the vast holes in our maternal health care system. I left that birth so rattled with trauma that I do not remember his first year of life. (no seriously, I look at pictures and it's like someone else’s life. The other day I asked Ryan how Granville crawled because I Do. Not. Remember.)

So, here is my birth of Mahlon, sweet, quirky, challenging Mahlon. I love #hypnobirthing but there was definitely some cortisol present in this birth. I had so much trauma to work through.

Mahlon was my first experience with conscious conception. I cannot speak about this birth without speaking about the pregnancy. I knew I was pregnant well before a test ever told me so. I also already knew I was moving to Georgia and that the clock was ticking on me getting a plan together. I wanted to vbac and I learned quickly that the area here was not very supportive.

“You don't put your life in somebody else’s hands. You just invite somebody else to provide support if needed.” (Leiko Hidaka, guest on Evidence Based Birth Podcast, Episode 126)

This is the attitude I formed by the end of my pregnancy. So Who was I going to invite? The first provider told me that she wanted me to go into labor by 40 weeks. I went to 40 + 3 with Granville and I knew this was not evidence based or a reasonable request. The next provider I saw was well recommended for her acceptance of informed consent/refusal. She told me that the risk of rupture was 1% “but ACOG (American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists) says you can do it, so I'll let you do it.” She also told me that she was nervous the whole time her vbacs were in labor. I probably could have gotten the birth I wanted. So, I switched to a CNM (Certified Nurse Midwife) at a local hospital. They were heavily controlled by the hospital and I wasn't thrilled with them. At this point, I figured I would use them for my prenatal and freebirth, which made Ryan kind of nervous, even though it was half his idea. I also started interviewing #homebirth midwives. There is ONE in my area. She has a great relationship with the hospitals in the area, awesome for some moms, but not for me. I finally got in contact with a traditional midwife who was almost 2 states away. I decided to go with her, knowing she may not make it. The only constants in this were my #ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) Chapter and my #doula, Ashley. Both of whom I started contacting while I was still living in Maryland. My “due” date was 1/28, but I told everyone it was 2/14 because that is really when the baby would be “overdue.”

I continued seeing the CNM for prenatal care until, after being diagnosed with gestational diabetes, I learned that they would suggest additional monitoring. I could refuse these things but then why was I going there? To argue? No, thanks. I was already performing all of the prenatal care I wanted at home. I measured my weight, blood pressure and even tested for proteins and glucose, and everything else they look for at the hospital, every week.

On 2/1/2020, I practiced birth roaring with Delilah and wrote a letter to “new baby.” Before bed, I told Ryan that I felt like I was in the movie Groundhog Day. “every day, I wake up and I'm pregnant all over again” He said “isn't tomorrow Groundhog day?” and we had a good laugh. I had zero signs of labor and chose to do absolutely nothing to start it. I wanted this baby to come completely on his or her own.

On 2/2/2020, I woke up at 6 am to a surge. It was pretty obvious it was time. I went into the

bathroom, started my diffuser and my music, and I started sending texts. and I knew I didn't have much time. I Marco Polo’d my BFF, Jessica Canada. I told Brittany so that the ICAN chapter would light a candle for me during my labor. And of course I texted my Doula and my Midwife. The last text I remember sending said, “Definitely getting stronger. If you want you can head over in a couple hours Gwen Stefani is going to be here.” (Apparently that nonsense was adequate because my lovely doula Ashley showed up.) I actually looked at my phone and saw that it was around 9 and thought “okay, so not a precipitous labor, dang it” Then I put my phone down and got to the work of birth. I got into the shower. Filled the tub with hot water. I moved between those two places until one or both got cold. My midwives and doula got here around 11. Then I would sit on the toilet and complain about the water not being hot enough. (I have actually been in the shower for all of my labors.) My midwife checked the baby’s heart rate a couple of times, but mostly stayed out of the way. I was tired the whole time. My amazing doula was by my side for all of this. She squeezed my hips in the shower, poured water over me in the bath. Someone rubbed my back as I sat backwards on the toilet. (I later found out it was my midwife.)

At around 1215, I told my doula and midwife I needed to be alone. They respected my wishes and I labored in the shower. After a few contractions, I got out of the shower or the tub, I don't remember and moved to all fours. All I remember is that I had a feeling I needed to leave. Crawl away, yes that is what I would do, crawl to where labor wasn't happening. That didn't work, so I laid down to sleep, also unsuccessful. In my mind I was thinking “This is taking too long, and I have got to go” This, my friends, was transition. My midwife, her assistant, and Ashley all came to my side. I was on all fours, reeling. "I'm so scared!" But I was surrounded by 3 women telling me “you can do this. You are doing this. You have done this before.”

My midwife, at the very end, asked to check me and I cried again saying, "you think there's something wrong. I don't think you're being honest, something must be wrong." She said, “I just want to make sure there isn't anything I can do to help you be done." So I consented. She said "I feel moulding and progress, and you're pushing." It turned out to be just the reassurance I needed. And then I could feel him on my sacrum; vertebrae by vertebrae I pushed him out. I felt his head and yelled, "I'm not going to have a c section!" Then I got him the rest of the way out and my midwife helped put him directly into my arms. I looked at him, in complete awe and searched for Ryan, who had been in the room since he heard me getting upset a few minutes earlier. “Did you see it's a boy!?” He was beaming and nodding. Ryan is always the air of calm in my chaos.

I was so well taken care of, and in my moments of doubt, 3 women surrounded me and comforted me. At some point my Doula, Ashley, had climbed on the bed and held me while I sat on the birth stool. My midwife never talked about dilation or progress. THEY spoke of power instead of pain and all told me my body was doing everything right. I had invited the right women to my birth. I labored the whole time in my bathroom and birthed on a birth stool, at the edge of my bed.

Ryan told me later how much he appreciated me doing this during the day this time “So convenient.” But truthfully, it was. Ryan slept till 8 then tended to the kids while I labored. After Mahlon was born he had the energy to take the other children to the store. We ate a seven layer dip, drank champagne, and watched the super bowl. And lastly, we went to sleep in our own bed.