Part II- Preparation for Homebirth
So now it was time to prepare: physically, emotionally, spiritually. I was halfway hesitant to tell people about my decision. I feared their immediate reaction was to think that I was trying to be a hero, or weird, or some “one with the world and all my feelings and thoughts” mother. I also have come to realize that with motherhood, opinions are like buttholes, everyone has one, and it’s all best if we keep ours to ourselves. (Not sure if that is the best analogy, but it feels right right now). Nonetheless, it was kind of fun to see everyone’s reaction when I told them about my decision to birth at home. Other people looked at me as if I had two heads when I told them my decision and some practically did back flips. Still some were curious. My husband was supportive but hesitant. After all, I had decided to be induced with an epidural last go round and wanted all natural this time--a complete switch. His words: “I’m going with you, but if it turns out badly I get to choose next time.” He also informed me that if I was doing this, he wasn’t going to let me back out if it got tough. He was in my corner though, and that is what mattered.
One of my biggest fears in preparation was wondering if I would be strong enough to handle labor. There’s this (mostly) joke among family members that I complain to everyone around if I get a bug bite. Maybe it’s mostly (ok all the way) true. The first go round with Jackson I was in labor for several hours. It was brought on with petocin (hello 0-60 mph contractions in about 10 minutes!), and with very little break in between intense contractions, I quickly asked for an epidural. Shortly thereafter I needed a C-section due to my son’s dropping heart rate, and then I had surgery and the recovery thereafter. Side note: I never known about the high correlation between induction and C-sections. My husband swears he mentioned it to me. I have no memory of this. I digress.
I was curious how this whole natural labor thing would go. Deciding that research and knowledge were one of the best ways to prepare, I asked for book recommendations. One of the most forefront midwives and proponents of natural birth is a lady by the name of Ina May Gaskin. She is gifted with knowledge from her many years delivering babies on “The Farm”-- oh you know, a hippie commune her and her husband started in the 70’s. The first half of her book Ina May’s Guide to Natural Childbirth was a collection of birth stories designed to inspire, while the second half included the more scientific descriptions of how it can and will all go down. Some of the stories inspired me, some scared me and some not going to lie, weirded me out (If you’ve read Gaskin you probably understand). Nonetheless, over time I was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe I could push a baby out of my vagina and live to tell the tale.
I asked friends about their birth experiences. I asked my Mom, an awesome woman who had six natural births--three of them with babies 10 pounds and above, how she did it. They were all so very encouraging. “Natural birth is gradual, there are breaks between contractions, when you think you can’t go on you’re almost done”-- I heard these words time and time again. If women all throughout the course of history have given birth, I could probably too.
The visits to the midwife were so wonderful. Melissa and the rest of her staff were a world away from the impersonal doctors office appointments I had experienced with Jackson. I looked forward to these appointment, the measurements and the heartbeats, the talks and the encouragements. More than one appointment I sat with Melissa and Michelle and cried--sad tears and happy tears. They at times cried with me. It was better than visiting a therapist. The level of prenatal care I received with them was superb.
The time came for a sonogram. My sisters Lindsay and Rachael came to visit for the occasion. It felt like Christmas, having family around and finding out good news-- we definintely wanted to know the sex of the baby. After the technician initially being hesitant to announce, she eventually confirmed: we were having a girl. I was ecstatic-- ribbons, and pink and painted toenails were all in my future! I loved my boy. I was so excited to love my girl--soon agreed to be named Kate.
During the middle part of my pregnancy I experienced awful hip and lower back pain. The kind that would leave me knocked out on the couch halfway through the day just wanting to lay horizontal. With several months to go, and a very active three year old boy to wrangle, this was not looking to be much of an option. Enter in the wonderful practice of chiropractic in addition to yoga at my local gym. Between those two I started to feel close to normal again. I fell in love with yoga and remained a faithful participant several times a week until the last couple weeks of my pregnancy. I’m sure the instructors at the end were worried that my water was going to break in the middle of downward dog, but hey, it didn’t. Bonus: I was able to keep up with some of the 60 year old ladies in the room! For someone who wasn’t very active to begin with, along with the fact that I had a bowling ball strapped around my middle, I considered this quite the accomplishment.
Toward the end of my pregnancy I had a couple of hiccups in the road to my home VBAC. One was at a checkup my midwife Melissa checked for the baby’s positioning. At this point I only had a couple of weeks to go and the baby was supposed to be head down. It seems like she might have flipped according to “feeling around.” After putting it out to the good ol’ facebook prayer chain and waiting a couple of days, I headed to one of the clinics that my midwife worked at for a sonogram. Praise God, Kate was head down, locked and loaded and ready to go.
The other hiccup I experienced was that I had to visit a hospital to have a doctor sign off that I was a candidate for VBAC. I headed to Winnie Palmer in Orlando with a friend at week 38 to the high risk clinic. I was angry because for wanting to push a baby out of my vagina I was considered high risk. Ridiculous. At the visit the doctor got all my medical information, along with previous birth experience, and Kate’s medical records so far. All indicators that I was a perfect candidate for a Trial of Labor (TOL). The doctor told me that she would “let” me try for a VBAC. She would “let” me go until my due date until they cut me open. Or they would induce me on that day if I would like (nothing like a scarred uterus getting some petocin!). I thanked her for signing my trial of labor paper and then informed her I was not planning on birthing there. She thought I was going to be her patient! I’m sure she would have “let” me be her patient. She informed me she could not endorse a home VBAC, and I told her that I was not asking for that, I was simply asking her if I was a candidate for a trial of labor. I was. And I thanked her for her time, left, and promptly called up my midwife with the good news that my paperwork had been approved. I also thanked her for believing in the whole process of birth and “allowing” my baby to pick her own birthday.
As time went on, I consolidated my birthing team which consisted of my mother in law, my midwife, the midwife in training, the birthing assistant from the practice, my friend/birth photographer, my Mom, and my husband. I was thinking about putting out an “open house” sign whenever I was in labor for whoever else wanted to come but decided against it. On a side note, I asked my Mom to work alongside my husband Josh to function as a birth coach/doula. I figured after six natural births she probably knew what she was doing. I was nervous though. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle the pain. Would I scream? Would I cry? Would I curse like a sailor? I wanted to make sure that no matter what I was free to birth however my body felt comfortable. My Mom joked that she would only make small tally marks each time I yelled an off-color word.
On the emotional/spiritual side I took one morning about two weeks before I was due to sit down and prepare. I looked up blogs of other mothers who used Scripture verses to meditate on. I wrote down and prayed through Scripture verses about endurance and pain and childbirth. One in particular stood out to me: Romans 8:11-- “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” I would come back to that verse again and again during the hard stages of labor.
The time was running out. We ran through a trial run of birthing tub in the living room, birth supplies were purchased and laid out, and we were read and prayed up. All we needed now was a baby. I tried putting on a weightlifting belt around my belly and doing lunges to no avail. Kate was coming in her time, and like anything of lofty value, she was worth waiting for. 
We all had our own ways of preparing
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