The Push to 8:45
If you had told me back in 2010 that Justin Leavitt and I would share a high-five over my sister’s cervix feeling like butter, I probably would have broken your nose. But as soon as the midwife told us Alisha had dilated 3cm and had a cervix ready to deliver a baby, the sharp smack of our hands together rung through the WNC Birth Center. Not much longer, and I’d be an aunt. I had timed my visit back to the mountains from Austin perfectly.
Now let me back up and explain why I was even with them at their midwife appointment. Because that’s a little weird, I know. I got a text from Alisha on October 2nd that said:
So, really good chance our little dude will come while you’re here. I know we had talked a bit about it before, but are you still planning on helping with the birth/being there? The only people we will have there is a midwife, nurse, and hopefully our photographer. You’re the only other person we are allowing!! If you do want to, it would be great to have you there for encouragement/support, phone pics and videos, and maybe just a helping hand for Justin. If you don’t want to, we totally understand. :Heart Emoji:
To which I replied:
YES. I WANT TO. Thank you!! Oh my goodness. :Sob Emoji:
I really didn’t know what I was getting into. Just that I was honored to be asked to be part of such a huge life moment. So when I got to Asheville, I made myself available to do everything they needed. And I went to the appointments leading up to the birth so I could gain a better understanding of what this natural birth thing was all about. No amount of sitting in on appointments can prepare you for go-time, though. And as labor support, you have to be at 100% there for mama and baby.
Good thing Oliver took us all into consideration when he decided it was time to make moves around midnight. Alisha did as much home labor as possible, and when it was time to go, Justin woke me up. We were on our way to the birth center by 2:30 AM. As soon as we got there, Angie, the midwife, checked Alisha’s dilation. She was at 9.5cm. I’m sorry, but that’s insane. You don’t just wait to seek attention until you’re half a centimeter away from popping a baby out! Women are incredible, and my sister is no exception here.
The birth room is set up as follows: A bed like you’d see in any bedroom, not a sterile hospital one, a small pool for water birth, a recliner, and a bathroom with a shower. Because all women are different, and their bodies tell them different ways to push a baby out, the goal of a birth center is to provide multiple options for laboring. And yeah, we used every option.
When I walked into the room (after being sent to whatever store happened to be open so we could have nourishment) Alisha was having intense contractions. She couldn’t talk through them, and Justin was holding her as she stood, clinging onto his shoulders and letting out a deep moan. It was immediately a rush of adrenaline. The kind of adrenaline you get when you know you have to be available and you can’t break your focus — no matter what. Her standing contractions quickly turned into pool contractions. This is where I entered the scene. Justin was in the pool with her, applying counter-pressure to her hips between each painful cycle. I was squatting or kneeling by the pool, her hands gripping mine each time a contraction began. At one point, I thought she was going to break my wrist.
What was truly amazing to me at this point was how infrequently the nurse and midwife were interfering with her labor. They just let her do what she needed to do. And I know she couldn’t have listened to her body so intently had she been given an epidural. Also during this time, Justin and I were reading Alisha’s affirmations she hand-wrote to keep up her confidence during labor. These are the things you don’t see at a hospital birth. It’s such a different atmosphere of care.
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After a few dozen heightened contractions and Alisha feeling like she needed to start pushing, but with no sign of baby, we moved to the shower. Using two shower heads and a birthing ball, we tried a few other positions to get baby Oliver moving down. This didn’t last long, though; Alisha preferred the pool. So back to the underwater contractions we went. This time she was grabbing my arms and most certainly creating bruises that would show up later and remind me of the excruciating, beautiful pain.
Between each contraction, an affirmation and a sip of water. Sometimes Alisha would speak up, and these are the times my heart broke. She said:
I’m so tired. I can’t do this.
This is so scary.
How close is he?
I’m so tired.
I’m so tired.
Affirmation. Heartbreak. Affirmation. Heartbreak. Affirmation. Affirmation. Affirmation.
Can you imagine how scary it is, knowing you’re pushing a human through your body? Alisha was feeling every emotion, and with good reason. The fact that she pushed through all of it proves just how strong she is. The moments of fear didn’t show weakness; they showed a real, vulnerable human moment, and made Oliver’s birth that much sweeter.
To get us closer to his birth, the midwife decided it was time to step in and do a cervix check. I think this was around 6AM, but I can’t be sure. Everything became a blur.
The check went well; there were no problems with the cervix or the amniotic sac. But while they had her on the bed, on her back, they figured she should get a few pushes in. Ya know, just to see if that’d encourage Oliver to come out. So I sat on the right of Alisha, Justin on the left. The midwife and nurse were by her feet, monitoring the pushes, applying pressure, and watching for any sign of baby. Every time she had a contraction, she was told to hold her legs back, take a cleansing breath, take a deep breath in, hold it and puuuuuuuuush. Angie told Justin and I to hold her feet back so her hips could stay as open as possible. We obliged.
This was the most intense part of labor. Every contraction, three huge pushes. Then rest. Every contraction, three primal movements, then Alisha breaking my heart.
Am I not pushing hard enough?
Is he almost here?
I’m so tired.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Sorry.
Sorry for being sorry.
I’m so tired.
Every contraction, I did three huge pushes with her. I cried over her. I held her head and wiped her down with a cool cloth. I made knowing eye contact with Justin. We were not doing well watching her in this much pain.
But then we started to see his head poke out more and more. The tiny bits of hair first. “So much we could make a man bun,” said Lisa, the second midwife to come in. His head was getting through, no matter how impossible it looked to me and Justin. I mean, I’m going to be honest here, vaginas shouldn’t stretch that much. It was surreal. All we could do was tell her to push and start to understand why people say childbirth is a miracle.
He’s close. He’s really close.
Every push brings you closer to Oliver.
Clary Sage was rubbed on her belly to make the contractions stronger. Balance essential oil on her feet to give her strength and clarity. Lavender wafted throughout the room to calm her. Olive oil and more olive oil. Sips of water.
I don’t know if mine and Justin’s tears helped at all, but she was getting those, too. I was crying for a few reasons: I have NEVER wanted to see my little sister in that much pain, I was frustrated that he wasn’t just coming out like so many of them did in the birthing videos we watched, and I was exhausted. So many times I thought I was doing the wrong thing. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I was helping or being annoying. I didn’t have a rulebook. As important as preparation is when you’re asked to be labor support, it’s still something you don’t really know how to do until you do it. Especially since every birth is different.
Finally, at 8:45AM, Oliver’s head popped out. I still don’t know how he fit through without ripping every piece of her, but he did. Although it’s hazy, I remember looking at his face, prepping to let out those first wails of life, looking at Justin as he burst into tears, and feeling the saltwater run down my face and into my smile. They put Alisha’s hands where he would come out so she could catch him, and she immediately put him to her chest and, I’m sure, felt the biggest wave of relief she’d ever experienced. Oliver was finally here.
Some serious cleanup, hand-fed Biscuit Head, and lots of baby tears later, Alisha was smiling and snuggling with her beautiful son. You may be wondering why anyone would choose to go through that kind of pain, especially when we have modern medicine. It seems like the term “midwife” is almost archaic, despite it being a thriving field. Well, I took Alisha to All Good Coffee (the best place on the planet) and asked her why she chose this path.
The one recurring thought from her was one I hadn’t had: People go to hospitals when they’re sick. Having a baby isn’t a problem. It isn’t a sickness. It doesn’t require a sterile, metal room. The mother should be comfortable and able to listen to her body. There shouldn’t be beeping machines and the negative energy surrounding hospitals penetrating the first breaths of new life.
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Now, before I go on, I want to say I’m not shaming anyone for choosing a hospital birth. Every woman listens to her body in her own way, and if a hospital birth is what you’re most comfortable with, then you should absolutely follow that path. There are many reasons and factors that go into choosing how you birth your child, and every birthing cycle is noble and beautiful and should be full of pride and joy.
But the primal approach is worth considering. For one, drugs can make the birth fuzzy. There is value in the clear, raw, unfiltered emotion of birth. There is value in feeling every bit of pressure, every sting of pain, every push, and every breath. Epidurals can cause confusion as to when to push. Narcotics make it harder for you to listen to your body. The conversation you will be having with your child can be muffled by numbness. If you’re able to forgo the pain medication and really listen to baby, it’ll create a memory that’ll never be dulled. And recovery is so much faster! Alisha was home six hours after Oliver made his big entrance into the world. That’s a big difference from the 24-48 hours, or longer, that hospitals keep you post-baby. And to have the care of a midwife and doula is without a doubt one of the biggest benefits. They are as involved as you want them to be, and their care is much more maternal in nature. The support I felt in that room had me sobbing. You simply can’t put a price on that kind of care.
At the end of the day, it is ultimately up to you to decide how you bring life into the world. There are many things to consider, and I truly believe women know what’s best in each particular instance. But if I can make just one person consider a natural birth, I’ll be happy. I haven’t been through pregnancy, but let me say, I was adamantly against the thought of having children until I witnessed Alisha’s birthing cycle. It’s such a unique moment women have the honor of experiencing.
If you gained anything from this blog post, I implore you to take a few moments to get to know the women in your life on a deeper level, whether they have children, are planning to, or are happy being childless.
And never underestimate the strength we hold.
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Some links to learn more about natural birth:
