Refinement through Fire

I think I will share Liam's birth story tonight. I am having flashbacks to that day, so here I go to write the story down. It is, after all, where it all began...Liam's life, the beauty and struggle of it.

I had never been so healthy as I was during my pregnancy. Even though I gained 50 pounds, I was eating all organic, taking some high quality prenatals, walking every day, and taking yoga religiously. Not only did I feel fantastic, but I looked great. Pregnancy seemed to become me.

Liam's original due date came and went. We were seeing a bit of a "quack" naturopathic doctor, but we didn't see that at the time. Brendan had just started medical school at Southwest so were were starry eyed and fancy free about the whole idea of nature cure and natural birth.

Throughout the pg, Helen never gave me an internal exam. The due date was set and the baby was big, but he was comfy in there. Halloween - the hottest on record in Phoenix for, I don't know, fifty years or something. I was getting uncomfortable and walked with Bren and Kia every night, jumping up and down to get things rolling.

Two, three nights I woke up in full-blown early labor, only to wake up still pregnant and well rested. Damn.

On the evening of November 8th, 10 days past his due date, labor started for real. Everyone says "you know when you know" but I had been jaded a few times, so we took our time in calling Helen. The contractions were not letting up but coming on strong, so we finally called her and started to set everything up.

I cry when I think of the beauty of that night. At my baby shower everyone gave me a special candle to light during labor, so I arranged them all around our little apartment, saying a special thank you to each person's gift. Brendan blew up the birthing tub, valiantly warming up water to put in there since we were so broke we couldn't afford to buy the fully electrical one.

My "doula in training" and friend Lori showed up, and she in her hippie glory helped set the stage. I remember lying on my birthing ball listening to Enya, looking at Bren's excited face through the candle light. Helen arrived and set all of her supplies up; the mood was calm and exactly as I had pictured it.

I don't remember exact times. In the tub, labor progressed beautifully to the point where I was directed to reach up and feel his head. So much long soft hair; the thrill of that first touch between myself and my child. We thought this is it - we're getting close after just a few hours.

More essential oil in the diffuser...moving into our bed. Brendan labored with me and it was one of the sweetest times we've had together: intimate and playful and extraordinary. The contractions hurt, but it was a productive hurt with the promise of infinite and imminent joy.

Then something happened. All of a sudden, it started to hurt a lot more and much more frequently. Brendan woke Helen up (she had been snoozing on the couch - this was probably around 4 in the morning) and she came into the room. His head was in the same position and the water hadn't broken, although the contractions were coming faster.

Gone was Brendan's playful tone. I sensed an urgency in his voice, and then caught a glimpse of Helen consulting her birthing book. All of a sudden this wasn't remotely magical anymore.

There is a gap in time at this point, since I forever lost a few hours. All I know is that all hell broke loose as I went into "transition" at 9 1/2 centimeters and then HE GOT STUCK.

I remember how daylight drifted in through the windows as I panted in the birthing tub - contractions hitting me every 2 minutes apart like dynamite exploding my lower back open. I had to hold onto both Bren and Lori with all of my might, one arm over each of them, fingers digging into their flesh, as I screamed in agony. It literally felt like my ribs were splitting and my low back was being ripped open. This went on for hours, with Helen checking Liam's heartrate every few minutes.

Her face awash in dread and resolve...me begging and then screaming for drugs, to go to the hospital...her voice, clear as a bell, saying "Get it together. You can do this. It is too late to go to the hospital, you are going to have this baby."

Resolve washing over me, determination and grit as I mustered everything I had. It was an out of body experience at this point, as I felt like I was going to die in this hell of pain with no end in sight.

Somehow Helen constructed her birthing chair. There is a photo of me on the Laz-e boy, right before I transferred to the wooden chair. Hanging onto Brendan listlessly, my fists clenched. A void exists in my memory of how it actually happened, but I remember Helen's voice through the haze: "His head is blocking the water - you have a lip on your cervix and you aren't able to dilate all the way - I am reaching my hand up to pull that lip back."

White pain, total agony, some godawful sounds, a flow of water, then release - blackness, white light, and before I know it there he is - a big, slightly blue baby with a red face and a ton of dark, long hair. 8'12 ounces, 21 inches long, beautiful and strong and sure. Noon, 11/9/2003. 12 hours of labor.

I only remember these first minutes from the video Lori took. Otherwise, it would be lost to me, and for this I am eternally grateful. I knew what to do - I cooed and whispered a welcome, and held him surely in my shaking and exhausted arms. I was beautiful and sweaty and SURE in my motherhood, even when I was virtually unconscious from the pain and superhuman effort.

Trauma from that birth stayed with me for weeks. I woke up a few times screaming "HE'S STUCK! HE'S STUCK!" even though he was right next to me in his co-sleeper, an alert and sweet infant. With only a little tear from labor, I recovered quickly and felt like such a warrior woman. I thought I could do anything after a natural, complicated home delivery - one that, without a doubt, would never have been allowed to go that long in the hospital. He would have been a C-section baby for sure.

This birth symbolizes so much of what was to come for Liam, for me, and for all of us. Beauty and trauma together, refinement and growth through fire, pain, and struggle. Post-trauma that I think in some ways I am still healing from - a long journey through the unknown that ends the same way. With me, knowingly or unknowingly, being a mother, and giving comfort to my child when he needs it the most.