This blog post was drafted this past June, just days before we sold our little Minneapolis house where our boys were both born. The birth photos were taken by my amazing doula Anna Botz and the close up picture of Alder’s face was taken by Rob Morgan, friend and photographer extraordinaire.
He was born over two years ago, but I just haven’t been able to sit down and write out this story. However, I told myself that I couldn’t move out of this house where I birthed my two boys without first getting these words into written form. Our little Alder Chapman, he’s a wild one and he came into the world in exactly the way you would expect a wild one to do. It was fast and furious, beautiful and traumatic all at the same time. That’s partly why I’ve never been able to sit down to write it. There’s processing that is needed to type out these words, but it’s processing that needs to be done as I sit at the very table you see in these pictures, and look into that same living room where I labored. This story is a part of this house. It always will be and because of that, it needs to be told from within it. So, here we go.
Monday, March 11, 2019.
It was a normal Monday with our regular chiropractor visit and food co-op grocery run. Yet, I knew that morning that it didn’t feel quite normal. Something was different. I felt a little strange and our very observant chiropractor knew it too. I could feel my body and mind gearing up. Was today the day?? No. He’s not due until the 23rd. That’s still 12 days away. At the co-op I found myself throwing food into the cart as “just in case food” - just in case this baby is coming. Just in case I won’t be back here myself for weeks. Just in case. Once home I started cleaning like a madwoman. Groceries away. Check. Floors swept. Check. Bathroom scrubbed. Check. My body knew, but my mind was denying it. It can’t be today. It’s still too early. The day went on and I did my normal Monday things, but as I did I was preparing too. Preparing to have others run my home for a week. Preparing to rush Oak out the door to Grandma’s. Preparing all of the lists, food, and supplies that I had prepped for weeks. You see, Oak came early too, but I was not quite ready. His was a marathon birth, but I didn’t have the food on hand that is necessary to sustain a marathon birth. By the grace and strength of the Father, I made it through, but once he was born, I was completely and utterly spent. That was not going to happen this time, so for that, I was prepared. I was ready for a marathon birth - yet, there was a still small voice that spoke to me often throughout my weeks of marathon preparation that I should also prepare for the sprint. And if I’ve learned anything over the past few years, when the Lord says, “Get ready,” it’s wise to listen and do just that. So, as the day went on, I got ready, not knowing if/when our sweet baby would arrive that day.
I don’t remember the exact timing of the first contraction (one of the reasons I should have written this two years ago!), but I do believe it was around 5:15. I was at the kitchen sink and Dan walked into the kitchen and saw me standing there breathing intentionally. He said, “what are you doing?” “I don’t know. Just breathing, I guess.” “You’re having a contraction!” “Maybe?” I said. I was still in denial. “Yes!” He said, “I’m calling the midwives.” Our birth team was called and shortly after our doula/birth photographer Anna arrived. My mom came to pick up Oak and while I tried to encourage everyone to take their time and not rush, they all quickly picked up on the fact that there may not be time available for the taking this time around. As my contractions intensified, Oak got a little nervous, so we said our goodbyes and he left for Grandma’s for the night.
By 7:35 both of our midwives had arrived and they checked me and baby as I labored in the living room. I’m not sure how long we were there, but I eventually made my way up the stairs to go to the bathroom. I had the thought as I did so that I probably wouldn’t be back downstairs for at least the next week as I recovered in bed. That was not to be so, but we’ll get to that.
The next hour and a half included some of the most intense pain I’ve ever experienced. With Oak’s birth, contractions were intense back labor and they lasted for hour upon hour upon hour. This was different. This was like my body hit the turbo button to get this baby out. While homebirth midwives often don’t check for cervix dilation, I think my body must have done most of the dilation in about an hour of time. It was like I could feel my cervix widening with each contraction. It did not feel good and I do believe I used the F word to describe the pain, which is not at all a normal word in my vocabulary. By 9:21 I told my midwives that I felt kind of pushy. By 9:32 our sweet baby had arrived. And he was a boy!! Another boy born in exactly the same place on the floor of our bedroom. Perfectly primal. This mama does not birth in a bed, no. The squat it how I roll.
What a difference to birth a baby in just 4 short hours! The elation on my face shows exactly how I felt - so proud, so capable, so strong. Birth is amazing. Our bodies can do so much and can tolerate so much. I love how homebirth has allowed me to birth in the ways that my body needed to do so - in the comfort of our home, surrounded only by those I love and trust, in the quiet dimness of our room - the room in which our sweet babies first came to be. I’m so thankful for the ability to birth at home and also for the experienced and wise birth team we had. And while I wish I could say the story ended here with a simple placenta delivery, a delayed cord clamping, a first latch, and a deep, long sleep - it did not. No. Things got a bit hairy from this point forward.
You see, I had had spotting throughout my pregnancy. It was random and irregular and slightly worrisome, but not too concerning to risk me out of homebirth. An ultrasound in my third trimester found no evidence or source of bleeding and since it had stopped at that point, we moved forward with our homebirth plan. However, once I delivered the placenta, it seemed to reveal the source of the bleeding - likely the placenta was putting pressure on the troublesome blood vessel and once it released the pressure, my body was unable to make the bleeding stop. My midwifes were incredible, though. They administered herbal tinctures and pitocin to help stop the bleeding and they monitored me very closely. At one point they talked to me about the possibility of needed to transfer to the hospital. I told them it would be fine. Ha. It was not fine and they knew it. Thirteen minutes later they called 911. I remember the next 12 minutes very vividly - which is one of the reasons I’ve had a hard time writing this story. In some ways, I remember those 12 minutes better than the actual birth, which makes me sad. Alder’s birth was beautiful and so many times I have wished that we could have just curled up in that bed and begun our week of postpartum/newborn convalescent bliss together. Instead, I had paramedics abruptly enter our sacred birth space, awkwardly figure out how to move me down our narrow 100 year old staircase, and ineptly put me into the ambulance while I laid on a stretcher hardly clothed in freezing weather. While I am incredibly thankful for the paramedic team, they had some less than shining moments during the 5 minutes that they were there. Thankfully, my doula had told Dan that he had to go with me in the ambulance. So, with a 45 minute old baby in his arms, he and his 6’3” self followed the stretcher right on into the ambulance, sat down, and said, “Ok, let’s go.” The paramedic was taken by surprise, but she didn’t argue and so away we went. We were transferred easily and quickly into the Fairview Riverside labor and delivery ward, but the hours after that dragged on. There as a lot of waiting while I laid in that bed bleeding. I don’t know what I would have done had my birth team not been there with me. The resident attending to me was pushing me to approve a manual sweeping of my uterus two hours after I had given birth, rather than a D&C. This would have been incredibly painful as my cervix had already closed most of the way. My midwives and doula were able to explain more fully what the difference between the procedures would be so that I could make an educated decision in the care I received. After I had been there for almost 2 hours, my midwives took my vitals as it had been quite awhile since the hospital staff had done so. I was finally taken back to the OR at 1:16 am. An hour later, they asked Dan for permission to give me a blood transfusion and use a ballon to stop the bleeding. After another hour passed, they let them know that they were finishing up and that I was stable. Dan held Alder through all of this.
The transfer and time at the hospital was traumatic for all of us. As I have thought back over it all over the past two years I have often reflected on the differences in care that I received from my birth team opposed to the paramedic and hospital staff. My reflections are simply that - reflections of the interactions I experience on the night of March 11th, 2019 - they are by no means a reflection on paramedic/hospital staff as a whole, so please read them as such. My birth team was attentive to my every need, to my baby’s needs, and to my husband’s needs. They were present every moment physically and emotionally. They were there to care for us, to support us, and to educate us. They knew us. My birth team could read the expressions on my face - on my husband’s face - because they knew us as individuals. We had walked the past 9 months together. We had birthed before together. They knew us and they were there for us. The paramedics and the hospital staff were there to do a job. I’m so thankful for them because the job they did likely saved my life. However, I did not feel supported by them. I did not feel known. In fact, the morning after my D&C, I was alone in the room with Alder as Dan had gone back home to get the car to pick us up, and even though I mentioned to the nurse that I needed to use the bathroom for the first time, she did not offer to help me. As I attempted to get up, I had to ask for help. This surprised me so much because my midwives would never have let me leave the bed for the first time - even without blood loss - without someone walking beside me supporting me. The contrast of care was stark to me. Midwives are amazing humans, especially homebirth midwives. I’m so very thankful for them.
Anyways, to wrap up this story. Alder, Dan, and I were able to return home by mid afternoon on March 12, the day after Alder was born. I walked up our stairs, apologizing to my pelvic floor the whole way, and got cozy in bed with my sweet baby boy. Our midwives met us there shortly after and got us settled. And Oak came home to meet his brother, which was a very special moment! It was not the easy recovery that could have followed the easy birth, but I recovered and eventually got my hemoglobin back into normal range (thanks to beef liver capsules and nourishing food!). I believe Alder has had a tighter bond with Dan since that first night because he was held by his daddy for so many hours directly following his birth. He also has a very strong love for the tree-brown blanket I had knit for him that he was wrapped in during those first few hours as well. The kid sleeps with that wool blanket cuddled up by his head whether it’s 10 degrees or 95. Those first moments and hours of life outside the womb matter so much and while I wish ours would have been smoother, I’m so thankful for the loving team that surrounded us and walked us through those early hours and beyond.
