I must tell you about the day Aris was born, because not every woman has the opportunity to write a birth story. Blessings, flow.
We had walked three blocks from our house on Quince St. when another contraction had me focused on my breathing at the corner of 10th and Spruce. The streets barren, and air warm- rain was on its way. Another two blocks and we had found Pennsylvania Hospital around 5 A. M., yoga ball in tow.
Fast forward to the previous day, a few shy of 42 weeks, and see us being crazy blessed by friends, neighbors, family, randos from the dog park, you name it- they were lovin’ on us. I was enormous, but also terrified at the thought of raising a human—didn’t mind too much that he decided to stay snuggled for eleven days past his due date.
We had walked three blocks from our house on Quince St. when another contraction had me focused on my breathing at the corner of 10th and Spruce. The streets barren, and air warm- rain was on its way. Another two blocks and we had found Pennsylvania Hospital around 5 A. M., yoga ball in tow.
Fast forward to the previous day, a few shy of 42 weeks, and see us being crazy blessed by friends, neighbors, family, randos from the dog park, you name it- they were lovin’ on us. I was enormous, but also terrified at the thought of raising a human—didn’t mind too much that he decided to stay snuggled for eleven days past his due date.
After talk of being induced with cervidil a few days prior, I requested a few more days to go into labor naturally. Bring on the red raspberry leaf tea, castor oil, wine, primrose oil, yoga sessions, dancing around like a sumo wrestler, etcetera…we tried everything. Everything.
My dear friend Lexi walked around the Midtown Fall Fest with me, poured me champagne, and rubbed my feet for an hour. Sarah Steinbok brought dinner. Sarah Calvo timed me doing squats and fierce belly rubbing—like I said, so much lovin’.
Thus, I went into full blown labor at 2:30 that morning. Praise baby Jesus.
We labored at home for three hours, contractions picking up quickly. I was comfortable in the setting of my bedroom with candles and my yoga ball- steady breathing, higher thinking. I tried to eat and drink, but could not keep anything down. My body wanted everything out. Contractions picked up to three minutes apart, and I was thankful for the time in between their coming and going. We began our walk to the hospital.
I was happiest to bring along a photo of my dad as a baby, a predictive painting of me and my child from a friend, and a hand woven blanket for the comfort of home. The pictures brought me so much encouragement, so much purpose.
My dear friend Lexi walked around the Midtown Fall Fest with me, poured me champagne, and rubbed my feet for an hour. Sarah Steinbok brought dinner. Sarah Calvo timed me doing squats and fierce belly rubbing—like I said, so much lovin’.
Thus, I went into full blown labor at 2:30 that morning. Praise baby Jesus.
We labored at home for three hours, contractions picking up quickly. I was comfortable in the setting of my bedroom with candles and my yoga ball- steady breathing, higher thinking. I tried to eat and drink, but could not keep anything down. My body wanted everything out. Contractions picked up to three minutes apart, and I was thankful for the time in between their coming and going. We began our walk to the hospital.
I was happiest to bring along a photo of my dad as a baby, a predictive painting of me and my child from a friend, and a hand woven blanket for the comfort of home. The pictures brought me so much encouragement, so much purpose.
Spenser, the greatest friend I could have, stepped away from his scrubs and acted as my coach—advocating our natural birth plan. We requested a low intervention room, not as cozy as a Birth Center, but had similar characteristics and was close in proximity to medical intervention, if needed.
Our sweet nurses checked on us every so often, but for the next seven hours it was really just Spenser and myself.
Working closely with my body, we danced, chanted, swayed and steadied our breathing through each contraction. There didn’t seem to be a break in-between their rhythmic coming and going. We learned to let each one go after it peaked instead of when it was completely gone. We labored on all fours, leaning on the wall and in a modified Child’s Pose. Standing behind or over me, Spenser applied a steady, strong force to either side of my hips. The counter pressure was needed each time a contraction hit and alleviated a portion of the pain.
I did not lie down in that bed. I walked over to where the baby’s little hat and swaddle were waiting for him, turning it over and over in my palms.
I couldn’t speak or even keep my eyes open during contractions. I couldn’t believe the nurses were even asking me questions. I vomited with every sip of water. The hormones that surged through my body caused me to shake uncontrollably. My body was opening up inside, Aris was making his way down my cervix and I could feel everything.
At some point, our midwife checked to see how baby was lined up. I knew weeks ago he was not breech, but now, even with his head down, he was in a position where it may not be possible for him to exit vaginally.
My eyes welled- “How can I move him? What can I do?”
Headed into the transition stage of labor, we began doing exercises when contractions hit- lunges and squats. I tried, but collapsed- panicking with every labor pain.
Spenser figured out that I wouldn’t be able to handle 100% of my weight while doing the exercises. I needed something to help me manage the added pressure. He took a sheet from the bed, folded it in half and wedged the top above the bathroom door. Holding the door shut with his foot, he told me to grip each end of the sheet. I wrapped it around my wrist and when the contraction hit I leaned back and down into a squatting position, holding a better portion of my weight by the sheet. My cries could not have been recognized by even the dearest of friends-- pursed lips and choked screams.
Please Lord, move his head.
We did that squatting exercise every few contractions until I could no longer handle it. But, it worked. The next time our midwife checked, she broke my water (unintentionally), and was happy with how his head was lined up, and found us at 8cm.
Those next two centimeters cranked very quickly. Any breathing, chanting, or swaying that helped me through the first 8 cm would be of no help here. I was losing my grip and panic set in.
On the floor of our room, my body trembled. I was draped in my blanket; my hair was not pulled back in a neat pony. Instead, it fell straight over the edges of my face, adding whatever comfort it could, sheltering me. There was no time in-between contractions, no time to catch our breath and re-group. Spenser held me from behind, swaying forward and back, breathing the same patterns, telling me he loved me, he was proud of me, and that baby was coming.
Our sweet nurses checked on us every so often, but for the next seven hours it was really just Spenser and myself.
Working closely with my body, we danced, chanted, swayed and steadied our breathing through each contraction. There didn’t seem to be a break in-between their rhythmic coming and going. We learned to let each one go after it peaked instead of when it was completely gone. We labored on all fours, leaning on the wall and in a modified Child’s Pose. Standing behind or over me, Spenser applied a steady, strong force to either side of my hips. The counter pressure was needed each time a contraction hit and alleviated a portion of the pain.
I did not lie down in that bed. I walked over to where the baby’s little hat and swaddle were waiting for him, turning it over and over in my palms.
I couldn’t speak or even keep my eyes open during contractions. I couldn’t believe the nurses were even asking me questions. I vomited with every sip of water. The hormones that surged through my body caused me to shake uncontrollably. My body was opening up inside, Aris was making his way down my cervix and I could feel everything.
At some point, our midwife checked to see how baby was lined up. I knew weeks ago he was not breech, but now, even with his head down, he was in a position where it may not be possible for him to exit vaginally.
My eyes welled- “How can I move him? What can I do?”
Headed into the transition stage of labor, we began doing exercises when contractions hit- lunges and squats. I tried, but collapsed- panicking with every labor pain.
Spenser figured out that I wouldn’t be able to handle 100% of my weight while doing the exercises. I needed something to help me manage the added pressure. He took a sheet from the bed, folded it in half and wedged the top above the bathroom door. Holding the door shut with his foot, he told me to grip each end of the sheet. I wrapped it around my wrist and when the contraction hit I leaned back and down into a squatting position, holding a better portion of my weight by the sheet. My cries could not have been recognized by even the dearest of friends-- pursed lips and choked screams.
Please Lord, move his head.
We did that squatting exercise every few contractions until I could no longer handle it. But, it worked. The next time our midwife checked, she broke my water (unintentionally), and was happy with how his head was lined up, and found us at 8cm.
Those next two centimeters cranked very quickly. Any breathing, chanting, or swaying that helped me through the first 8 cm would be of no help here. I was losing my grip and panic set in.
On the floor of our room, my body trembled. I was draped in my blanket; my hair was not pulled back in a neat pony. Instead, it fell straight over the edges of my face, adding whatever comfort it could, sheltering me. There was no time in-between contractions, no time to catch our breath and re-group. Spenser held me from behind, swaying forward and back, breathing the same patterns, telling me he loved me, he was proud of me, and that baby was coming.
Co-creators of this little one trying to make his way out. Spenser felt the pain pulsing through his own body.
He wept as I did.
Noon, and it was time to push. I called for my mom and sister, Allison, to be with us in the room. An hour of pushing went quickly and the moment Aris would be born was so close. The pressure of his enormous troll head (sorry, baby-love, but it was in the 100 percentile) was immense. I pushed with every contraction, 10 seconds at a time- Spenser counting for me.
Low guttural chants, tears down the sides of my swollen face, blue lips, encouraged.
Calm as any woman I have ever seen, my midwife slipped on her gloves. Spenser held back tears and I reached out to touch him. My mother watched in understanding from the side, and Allison by my head, her hands covering her face. It was so quiet before he came, but one final push and the silence was broken. His cry was the exact sound I imagined, his arms flailing to be held.
Spenser sobbed, I smiled. I reach down to hold my baby boy. Skin to skin and he takes me in with his dark eyes. Aris, my love. So wide awake and beautiful.
October 7th, 2013 @ 12:55 pm
7 lbs 15.5 oz 20.5 inches
He wept as I did.
Noon, and it was time to push. I called for my mom and sister, Allison, to be with us in the room. An hour of pushing went quickly and the moment Aris would be born was so close. The pressure of his enormous troll head (sorry, baby-love, but it was in the 100 percentile) was immense. I pushed with every contraction, 10 seconds at a time- Spenser counting for me.
Low guttural chants, tears down the sides of my swollen face, blue lips, encouraged.
Calm as any woman I have ever seen, my midwife slipped on her gloves. Spenser held back tears and I reached out to touch him. My mother watched in understanding from the side, and Allison by my head, her hands covering her face. It was so quiet before he came, but one final push and the silence was broken. His cry was the exact sound I imagined, his arms flailing to be held.
Spenser sobbed, I smiled. I reach down to hold my baby boy. Skin to skin and he takes me in with his dark eyes. Aris, my love. So wide awake and beautiful.
October 7th, 2013 @ 12:55 pm
7 lbs 15.5 oz 20.5 inches
His vision is minimal, but he is close to me and looks towards my face. My voice is familiar to him and he is incredibly alert, breathing, healthy, already loved. He hears Daddy’s voice come close and furrows his brow. His eyes are so wide. We laugh, how is he already such a person?
He nurses. I fumble, trying to remember how I am supposed to help him, but he knows what to do, so I relax. He is confident and closes his eyes to rest. I close my eyes and cry—Just like that, I’m a mom and so many of my dreams are realized. I will tap into areas of my brain that have yet to be required, facets of my being that have never been challenged.
I’m sure I will apologize over and over to A because I have zero idea what I am doing, but I do have great love. And I have a village of my people to help us grow. That, my friends, makes me (semi) fearless.
My most cherished part of this entire process was totally the people. Good, nourishing people. Our nurses were a huge part of that. They put in a good word, and we were given our own room overlooking the garden. Historic Pennsylvania Hospital, I only have the best things to say.
Aris was taken to the nursery for some quick measurements, Spenser watched from the window with tiny footprints stamped on his shirt. Alone in the hospital room, I loved on the afternoon rain falling through blurry windows. Enya playing in the background (ya know I love my Enya). I laid there in awe of the human body and spirit, in love, and thanking God fervently through my tears.
He nurses. I fumble, trying to remember how I am supposed to help him, but he knows what to do, so I relax. He is confident and closes his eyes to rest. I close my eyes and cry—Just like that, I’m a mom and so many of my dreams are realized. I will tap into areas of my brain that have yet to be required, facets of my being that have never been challenged.
I’m sure I will apologize over and over to A because I have zero idea what I am doing, but I do have great love. And I have a village of my people to help us grow. That, my friends, makes me (semi) fearless.
My most cherished part of this entire process was totally the people. Good, nourishing people. Our nurses were a huge part of that. They put in a good word, and we were given our own room overlooking the garden. Historic Pennsylvania Hospital, I only have the best things to say.
Aris was taken to the nursery for some quick measurements, Spenser watched from the window with tiny footprints stamped on his shirt. Alone in the hospital room, I loved on the afternoon rain falling through blurry windows. Enya playing in the background (ya know I love my Enya). I laid there in awe of the human body and spirit, in love, and thanking God fervently through my tears.
There were some complications with how Aris tore through my walls, and because they had trouble stopping the bleeding, I was unable to shower. Swollen and exhausted, I was thankful my sister was there. Allison brushed out my damp, tangled hair. She ran hot water over a hand towel and laid it to steam on my face. She rubbed my calves that were cramped up after pushing. She smiled and her eyes filled up as she told me about her view of the birth. Then, Paige came with roses and braided my hair. I would have died for a shower at that point, but they made me feel so beautiful. We rested and giggled and couldn’t wait until Julie and Jill could be with us.
My heart was so full watching my family pass around this eight-pound baby boy. It nearly burst as I witnessed Spenser become a dad. Holding his son and pulling him close, looking back at me with tears in his eyes. Those blue slate eyes-- the ones Aris had, too. We had imagined this day for so long, craved it, prayed for it. We met at age twelve, and began falling in love at fourteen. We grew up, and up, together- embracing our differences. Foundationally the same people from the day we met fifteen years ago, but now we looked at one another— realizing how much more there was in our future, than in our past.
My sister, Julie, put together a few moments in the short documentary below. Sisters (and babies!) are the best, yay! :)
My sister, Julie, put together a few moments in the short documentary below. Sisters (and babies!) are the best, yay! :)
xx L