A Sweetness I Never Expected

This birth story was submitted by Kelley Birrell:

Several months before I got pregnant with my last child, a little girl, my then 4-year-old son asked me where babies come from. I wasn't prepared with a pat answer, so I just shot from the hip and told it to him straight. I didn't explain the nitty-gritty details of how the babies got in there, but I did tell him how they start as special seeds from the daddy, grow inside the mommy's belly, and that they eventually come out through a special hole in her bottom. I also told him that he'd be welcome to be there at the birth of our next baby.

This really got him excited, and for the next several months I kept getting questions about when I was going to get another baby in my belly so he could watch it be born. Finally, the long-awaited day came and I announced to my husband and sons, through happy tears, that I was pregnant. My son immediately asked if he could still be there when the baby came. I told him "absolutely."

This pregnancy, with what turned out to be my first and only daughter, was not a pleasant one. I was miserably sick at the beginning (for the first time in 4 pregnancies!), and in excruciating pain at the end. I was planning a homebirth, but it took me several months to find a midwife who could practice in my state, and then I found that I really didn't like her style of care. I was worried that I'd have to have my baby in the hospital, and that it wouldn't work for my son to be there for the birth.

Around my 6th month, we moved to a different state and I quickly found another midwife. I adored this one from the moment I set eyes on her, and we bonded immediately. She helped me cope through the last 3 very difficult months of my pregnancy, for which I was deeply grateful.

The best thing about finding her is that I realized that my dreams of a homebirth were very likely going to come true. By this time, the invitation to my one son to be at the birth had grown to include all three of my sons (now aged 3 1/2, nearly 6, and 8). They were excited, but I don't think they really had any idea of what was going to happen.

As I neared the end of my pregnancy, I began to worry about how I was going to handle having three little, sometimes rambunctious boys around me while I was in labor. Previously I had had only adults around me, and my kids were not there. Also, I was getting some really strange looks when I'd tell friends that my sons were going to watch the birth. It was like everyone around me thought it was extremely inappropriate for my sons to see that. On top of all this, my mom kept telling me that I should have a back-up plan for the kids in case I had to go to the hospital suddenly. The problem was that I wasn't about to tell them they couldn't come when I'd been telling them they could for over a year. I decided to brush off everybody else's opinions, and just focus on what I knew was right - that my boys needed to be there.

Finally the day we'd all been waiting for came. I started having contractions at about 3:00 in the morning, but managed to sleep through them off and on. They weren't too terribly frequent or intense by morning when everyone got up, so I took the kids to a birthday party at a local park. Lots of people were there, and the kids played while I talked to several of the moms, stopping every five minutes or so to breathe through contractions that were starting to become more consuming. I was very glad when the party was over, and we could go home (I hated to make my boys leave before all their friends did).

Next came the part I had been mildly dreading - at home, taking care of my three kids by myself for a few hours while I was in labor. However, the afternoon went much better than I could have anticipated. My boys took great naps, and then played quietly (totally out of character for them, I should add) while I labored on a birth ball in our living room. My husband came home, and all 4 of them took very good care of me. My now nearly 6-year-old son brought me water, and my boys took turns with each other and my husband rubbing my back for me. They were gentle and kind, and I was truly surprised at how sweet the experience was turning out to be.

Fast forward a few hours... the time had come for the birth. My boys were starting to get very excited, and my midwife showed up at the house about the time my husband was planning to take them to a nearby restaurant with a playland so they could burn off some energy. We all thought there were still several more hours to go. My midwife and I got comfortable, I made myself a peanut butter smoothie, and we talked for a few minutes.

After I finished, we went into the bedroom so she could check me to get an idea of where things were. What happened next was a total surprise to both of us. My cervix was positioned far enough back that she could barely reach it, however, she managed to ascertain that I was about 4 centimeters and VERY stretchy. As an experiment, she lightly tugged on the edge during a contraction (they ARE inevitable when you're getting checked) to see what would happen. What happened is that I immediately opened up to about a 10 and my baby's head came down right to her hand!

She jumped up, and started getting things ready for the birth VERY quickly! I had her call my husband and tell him to get home IMMEDIATELY while I knelt on my hands and knees and vocalized through a few more contractions. By the time they all arrived a couple minutes later, I was positioned on a birth ball at the side of my bed, and pushing with all my might. My husband and our sons stood at the door of our room getting a full view of the action, but I didn't mind a bit. At one point, I remember my youngest son (the 3 1/2-year-old) telling his brother that the baby was going to come out Mommy's special hole in her bottom. Even though I was working hard, I just had to smile at that dear little voice saying such an innocent and funny thing. A few minutes later, my beautiful daughter was born, and my husband (of course) and boys saw every bit of it.

Looking back on the experience, I will be eternally grateful that I trusted myself and my boys enough to have them at the birth. My almost 6-year-old said some every special things about the birth later, even though he did admit thinking it was just a little gross (boys WILL be boys!). All of them adore their sister, and did immediately. It was like she was every bit as much their baby as she was my baby. I was pleasantly surprised at how delightful and sweet it was having my children there, and being able to hear their thoughtful comments and charming voices in the background. It is an experience I will always cherish, a moment when we truly became a family all together at last.

Birth Story - Prayer and the Lord's Tender Mercies

This story was sent to us by Shelene Westover. I grew up with Shelene when she had a different last name and so I was surprised to hear from her. It's strange how people you knew way back when aren't allowed to age in your mind. I still thought of her as much younger than me. Then I read her story and I realized just how much we all go through in the process of "growing up." It breaks my heart for all the little ones. And yet. They chose it. We chose it. Shelene's story is a good example of where we can turn for peace.

When my husband first started having health difficulties, I was four months pregnant with our second child. At the time, it all seemed to happen so slowly, but in retrospect, it really flew past us. Before we knew it, we learned we were expecting a boy and then learned that my husband was in need of a bone marrow transplant. We felt confident and positive throughout the process and even up until the day he died, we were optimistic. Now I look back and see that may have actually been denial. I suddenly found myself a single mother of a 21 month old daughter and a soon to be born son. Never before had my prayers been so sincere as they were that summer. I couldn't understand why Heavenly Father would take a good, hard working father from a happy family, and I can't say that I understand now either. However, through this I knew that I needed my Heavenly Father more than anything and he was the only comforter I could find solace with now. People were so kind and loving, but the only one who could bring me comfort was the Lord. I knew where I could turn for peace and He was always there. It was in these trying times that I was humbled and blessed by my Heavenly Father.

I was given so much advice from caring people, but also, people who had no idea what I was going through. One person gave me a book about a woman who was in a similar situation as I was. In this woman's book, she recounted several experiences where she saw and even had conversations with her late husband. This gave me hope, and I kept waiting for my turn to have an experience like hers. I never did have an experiences like hers, but I did have an experience that my Heavenly Father knew was what I needed. In the last moments of labor and pushing, I suddenly came to a realization that my late husband was there, I could feel his hand on my arm, and I could feel his presence in the room. I knew if I turned my head to look, I wouldn't see him, but I didn't need to see him. I could feel him, and that was good enough for me. In that bittersweet time of my life, my Heavenly Father blessed me.

Availing Ourselves of the Priesthood

Avail is a great word. To avail one's self of something literally means: to use to one's advantage.

A few years ago my friend Kim told me that she had been married 8 years and had only asked for one blessing from her husband--when she was pregnant. I was shocked because I know her husband. He is a good man, and incidentally, I have had two very powerful blessings through him last year.

I thought that may be the problem was Kim. She's a beautiful return missionary who I know has a testimony of the priesthood, but she grew up with a non-member father. I thought maybe that was it--she have never learned how to ask.

But I had a realization last Sunday when I was talking to a friend at church about her week. Melissa is a professional woman who always appears to have it together, but she told me about how she felt very overwhelmed the week before. Overwhelm is often the state of a woman's existence in these times, but the look in her eyes told me it was something more. I don't know why, but I asked if she had gotten a blessing.

She said no. She was annoyed at her husband, who didn't understand all that she was going through, so she hadn't.

"Oh," I said.

Then I had this moment of clarity. I realized that because I have not had the priesthood in my home I have had to ask for blessings from other men, men I don't have to live with and be annoyed and otherwise effected by their imperfections. It is difficult for me to ask someone else's husband to come and give me a blessing--and between me and my daughter it seems like we need one every month. I always thought it would be easier when I had a priesthood holder in my home, but now I see that it might actually be harder.

The priesthood is perfect. It is God's power to men on earth. But men are not perfect, and this has kept me from asking for a blessing from certain people I judge as insensitive or who might feel put out. But it hasn't stopped me from calling someone else I judged as more perfect--like my old home teacher. (I remember being shocked one day to hear his wife say something about his annoying habits. I had forgotten that he was a real human, and a dude.)

So my questions is, how do we avail ourselves of the priesthood, knowing what we know about the men in our lives who hold it? Our husbands, fathers, brothers, friends. We may know on an intellectual level that it is not that man blessing us--it is God--but as with most things spiritual, intellect is not all that is involved. There are feelings, and if you are pregnant or postpartum, there are hormones.

One thought I have as I write this is that there is power in a routine. When I write every day at the same time, my body and mind are already getting ready before I sit down. I don't waste half an hour with false starts and procrastination. It is the same with my daily scripture study. So perhaps a monthly date with your priesthood holder is a good thing (especially while you are pregnant). It occurs to me that this is why home teachers are supposed to visit at least once a month, because the Lord wants the priesthood in every home at least once a month.

Of course, it is great to have the faith and humility to ask for a blessing when you feel you need one, but let's face it, many of us, despite great faith, won't ask--and it is those of us with this problem, who may need most to hear the words of God directly to us. A regular blessing date between you and your priesthood holder might eliminate some of the resistance to asking, give him time to prepare and be present, and bring you closer together.

I had some of the most powerful blessing while I was pregnant, and I know it was because there were two of us. I once had terrible anxiety thinking that my daughter might inherit some mental illnesses from her father's side. My home teachers came and blessed me, and in the blessing God promised that my daughter would be born "totally healthy and perfectly normal in every way." And I had no doubt after that that she would be. And she is.

Midwifery as Calling - Guest Post by HeatherLady

One of my assignments for this book has been to research the birthing history of early LDS women. It has been an incredible experience and I’ve learned so much about birth and about midwifery. One of the things that I was most impressed to discover was that in the early days of the church, midwifery was a spiritual calling. A woman was called to be a midwife by priesthood authority, often after having been nominated by the Relief Society, and set apart by the laying on of hands. She was usually set apart by a General Authority of the church, if available, and the calling was for life, much like the calling of Patriarch.

The first woman we know of who was set apart as a midwife was Patty Bartlett Sessions, who is probably the most famous of the early church midwives and who personally delivered at least 4,000 babies during her life time. As a young girl, Patty received a strong spiritual confirmation about her calling as a midwife and had been working as a midwife for many years before she joined the church. When she arrived in Nauvoo she was set apart by Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball as a “Doctor of Women” and went on to deliver thousands of babies for the LDS community. (Sessions, 1997).

During the early days of the church, hundreds of women were set apart as midwives. Some had formal training before their calls but others didn’t. My favorite story is of Josephine Catherine Chatterly Wood, of the Escalante area. When she was twenty-nine years old and the mother of several children, her Bishop called her to be the midwife of the community. At first she refused, saying, “I am green as a cucumber and I don’t know how babies are born.”

The Bishop promised to give her a blessing, and in the blessing he told her that she would be guided by the Lord and that great wisdom would be hers. Still feeling overwhelmed and inadequate, Josephine read all the books she could find and prayed and studied tirelessly. Before her first call to a mother in labor she asked her husband to give her a blessing, then, Josephine she went to the Bishop’s house and made him come with her to the birth because she was so nervous. The birth went well. Yet for several years afterward, Josephine would occasionally call the Bishop to come help her with the delivery of a baby.

Caroline Redd, one of the women who was attended by Josephine for eight of her births, said this of her: “None served more or gave more than she, and none was loved more. She loved to do the thing she was called to do. She loved her husband and family. She never complained. God gave her wisdom and power because she could translate pain into joy.” (Noall, 1942)

In general though, most LDS midwives had some sort of formal training. Later-day Saints were very unique in this respect in19^th America when few midwives had any sort of training. The reason LDS women were so highly skilled in midwifery was for several reasons. Some of the early women coverts to the church came to Salt Lake City from Europe and had studied midwifery at schools in Scotland and France. Also, Brigham Young felt deeply about properly caring for prospective mothers and was particularly impressed by the trails and tribulation that women suffered when they had to “go down to the Valley of death” to bring forth the new citizens of Zion.

Even though Brigham Young had a real mistrust of doctors, which was probably very valid considering most of them didn’t have any sort of training, he eventually changed his mind and in 1880’s he started sending women to medical school to learn obstetrics. It was around this time that germ theory was being adopted. Germ Theory had been discovered in the 1860's, and the medical profession was starting to become more research based and professionalized. Perhaps Brigham Young was inspired to hesitate about doctors until the saints could be assured that they were getting quality medical training and care.

Dr. Ellis Shipp was the first woman sent by Brigham Young to the Woman’s Medical College in Philadelphia to study medicine and obstetrics. After she returned from studying medicine she traveled all over the Mormon territories training hundreds of women as midwives and in the basics of home nursing. In fact, during the 19^th century Utah had one of the largest numbers of women doctors than almost anywhere else in the world. (Dorigatti, 2009)

The need for midwives in the newly established Zion was so great that in each Ward, the Relief Society would nominate two women to be trained and set apart as midwives for the women of the ward. These prospective midwives would usually travel to a place where Dr. Shipp, or another traveling doctor, was holding a temporary midwifery clinic. Since the time commitment was great--at least three months, and the cost very expensive (the cost the book was $20, which was a small fortune back then), the Relief Society of each ward would pay for their books and then feed and watch over their husbands and children while they were away.

One midwife who gained her training this way was Phebe Amelia Richards Peart, a midwife in Farmington. Her daughter said, “When she was on her first case, she decided that some day she would be a midwife…. Knowing how greatly midwives were needed, she looked forward to the day when she could study for this profession…. Some four years later, after she had become Mrs. Jacob Peart Jr., she laid her plans before her husband and also her mother, Mary Thompson Richards. She asked their permission and their help in taking a course of study under Dr. Shipp. It was, however, obvious, from the start that she could expect neither encouragement nor help from her family. Both her husband and her mother were bitterly opposed to the suggestion. They held to the then popular conviction that a woman’s place is in the home. To them it seemed unthinkable that Phebe should attempt such a career. The Relief Society was sympathetic to her desire and through it, even in the face of dire opposition at home, Phebe eventually complete her training and received from Dr. Shipp a certificate which made her eligible to practice nursing and obstetrics.” (Noall, 1942)

Several of the accounts I read also spoke of midwives as “presiding” at a birth. Typically when I think of “presiding,” I think of a priesthood holder presiding over a church meeting. The man presiding isn’t always the one who is in charge of conducting the meeting; commonly he doesn’t say anything, but he is there representing the priesthood authority of Heavenly Father. I like the image of a midwife not “delivering” or “catching a baby,” but “presiding over the birth.” Her job isn’t to do the work--that is in the hand of God, mother and baby--rather, she is there to oversee the process and to represent the power of the Heavenly Mother.

One midwife, Annie Bryceon Laker who served in Southern Idaho, once told her friend that, “… the strength that comes to us is from the Priesthood, and the power we receive through the Priesthood is from our Father in Heaven.” (Noall, 1942)

The experience of the early Later-day Saint women has taught me several important lessons. First, that God is very interested in the way in which His daughters birth and how His children come to this world. Second, that the Lord qualifies whom he calls. Though midwives may no longer be called and formally set apart, many of the midwives (and doulas and childbirth educators) I know, both in and outside of our faith, will tell you that they feel like God called them to do this work and that he inspires and guides them in their work.

We plan to include some of this information in the book, so I would love to hear comments or questions.

Sources:

Noall, Claire. 1942. Mormon Midwives. Utah State Quarterly, Volume 10.

Sessions, Patty Bartlett. 1997 Mormon Midwife: The 1846-1888 Diaries of Patty Bartlett Sessions. Donna Toland Smart (editor). Utah State Univeristy Press. Logan, Utah.

Dorigatti, Barbara T. Thompson. 2009. Pioneer Midwives. Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Lesson for September.

Guest Post from Natalie Willes - Giving Birth in NYC

Manhattan Temple

My mother was raised in Argentina with 14 siblings. Her mother gave birth with a real, live midwife. I don't mean to say that the midwife I used was not "real," but the woman that delivered my mother was probably not educated at the Columbia College of Nursing.

When my mother was pregnant with my sister in 1974, things (in Argentina) were as bad, or worse, than they are now. My mother was overdue with my sister and was forced to enter the hospital 9 days before she gave birth. From what my mom recalls, they pretty much also forced her to stay in her bed. When she did finally go into labor, the nurses wouldn't let her move from the bed (no epidural, just Pitocin). All my mom wanted was to use the bathroom to pee, but they wouldn't let her. She finally got so fed up she got up and waddled to the bathroom, shut the door and started to pee. My sister finally dropped into the birth canal and was born shortly thereafter.

My mom came to the US in 1982, and in 1984 gave birth to me. During her pregnancy they discovered she had a heart arrhythmia. I only learned a few weeks ago that the doctor called her each day for the 10 days before I was finally born to remind her that she had missed her inducement date. Of all the things my mom has accomplished, this is something that gives me particular pride. There's a certain gravitas necessary that, sadly, most woman lack to essentially say to their doctor, "F you, I'll come in when I'm in labor." It never ceases to amaze me that doctors can make a woman come in to be induced. I hope I'm never in that situation, because I think I'd probably say something to the effect of, "No thank you. I understand that you won't be able to attend my birth unless I come in to be induced at XYZ time. I'm sure the doctor on call will be able to take good care of me. I really appreciate your help up until now." Then, I would wait until I was in the pushing stage before I drove to the hospital.

These were the only birth stories I knew about growing up. I think I thought those were different times and that I would have a modern, medicated birth, and hey, why don't you throw in a c-section while you're at it?

I believe Felice moved into my ward when I was about 16 years old. I have always, always looked up to her. To this day she is probably the single most inspirational individual I personally know. When I learned she had successfully given birth using the hypnobirthing method (I was away at college at the time) I instantly gravitated to it, probably because she did it and I wanted to do it, too.

In October of 2006 I miscarried at 7 weeks and didn't try to become pregnant again until my husband and I moved to NYC. When I first moved to the City, I hated it. My feelings have not really warmed towards Manhattan, but they have become more bearable. I think the two major problems I have are: 1) I am so far away from my family, and 2) The entire city suffers from too many people and not enough space or resources. I became pregnant about 5 months after I moved here, and I had a close friend who had almost succeeded in having a natural child birth who was very supportive of my natural birth ideas. This friend had conceded in having a c-section after 30 hours of labor. In retrospect she felt that had she had the support of her husband and birthing companions she would've been stronger in rejecting the doctor's repeated proposals for a c-section.

Around that same time I also had lunch with a friend who had given birth the "regular" way at the hospital I was going to use. She told me that her labor was "typical" in terms of interventions, but it was her recovery that was supremely traumatic. There is not a single hospital on the entire island of Manhattan that has single recovery rooms, which means you have a roommate - and all her visitors - for your entire hospital stay. If you try to leave before the mandatory 48 hour stay for vaginal, 72 hour for c-section because of how terrible the conditions are, they will sign you out Against Medical Advice, which means if you suffer any problems related to your child's birth, your insurance will not cover your care.

Anyway, my friend gave birth and could feel nothing because of her epidural. No one is allowed to stay with you after visiting hours, so once 8:30 pm rolled around, her husband left. About an hour later her epidural wore off. That's when her problems began. Her roommate had already tried calling the nurse to no avail and her request for help were also unanswered. It was her first birth and my friend had no idea how to take care of herself. The nurse had left her a basket of the typical accouterments necessary to take care of oneself after birth, but had not explained how to use any of the items. Because no one answered her call to the nursing station, and because she still couldn't safely walk, she had to call her sister in Utah, and ask her how to use everything.

As she recalled her story, I sort of felt sick to my stomach, kind of the way I would feel if a woman recounted her sexual assault. I honestly felt she had been violated. She must have felt the same way because she said that the next time around she was giving birth at the Birthing Center. "What's The Birthing Center, I asked?"

The Birthing Center is the only traditional birthing center in the area. It is located on the 11th floor of the St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital, 59th St. Besides being physically located at the hospital, the only other connection this Center has to a traditional hospital setting is that it is extremely easy to be "risked" out of giving birth there (just about anything will get you risked out such as anemia, twins, Strep B positive, etc.) Other than that, it is as if nearly every medical professional in the region has washed their hands of the Center. There is no pain medication available. If you require an epidural you have to go to the normal labor and delivery floor.

It is extremely challenging to actually be allowed to give birth at the Center. In the first place, the Center requires your doctor or midwife be present from the moment you check in until you give birth. That fact alone removes almost every OB-GYN in NYC, because no doctor wants to be tied to one patient for their entire birth without being able to hurry it up. Ergo, there is a tiny, itty bitty handful of providers associated with the Center. Then, you have to have the type of insurance these providers take. THEN, and this is probably the biggest barrier, you have to convince them to take you. I only had one provider who accepted my insurance who worked with the Birthing Center. One.

I called when I was four weeks pregnant and was told, "sorry, we're already booked." I was flabbergasted. How could they be booked? How can there be that many women who even know they are pregnant? I ended up calling back a few days later and by the grace of Heavenly Father got through and got some uninformed front desk person to make me an appointment. I was in! It turns out that the midwife team I was using had one member on maternity leave. Anyway, every time I went to a visit I had to wait between 90-145 minutes to be seen. Just another thing about living in New York where there are too many people for too few resources.

Thankfully, the rest of my pregnancy and delivery went very much as planned. I was able to stay in the birthing center, but had to be prepared to fight ever step of the way. I had to be extremely proactive and informed, and I had to stand up for myself.

I can think of five women that I know here who would have never considered natural child birth were it not for the atrocious conditions involved in giving birth in the regular hospital setting in NYC. They have heard the story of the 1st counselor in the bishopric's wife who recovered in the hallway behind a make shift tent made out of a sheet, and of the other sister who did a majority of her labor in the waiting room with 30 other laboring women because there were no beds available for her. There was the story of the third time mom [in your ward] who felt so bad for her roommate (who had a terrible birth) that she walked her roommate's baby up and down the hall so her roommate could rest because the nurse was no where to be found.

Another woman in our ward didn't know her water had broken, so by the time she reached the hospital, she had been in labor for about 24 hours. Because she had hit the magic 24 hour number, the doctors pumped her and her baby full of antibiotics and were legally required to keep her son at the hospital for 7 days. But there was no room for her, so she had to stay in a hotel next to the hospital and have her husband wheel her back and forth in a wheel chair every three hours to nurse around the clock. (She was unable to walk because she had a c-section.) All And these are just the few stories I know from our ward. There are millions of women in this city.

It is no wonder that women who would have never even considered natural child birth are realizing that their recoveries will be much more traumatic and painful than any pain endured during child birth. I have known women who have been risked out of the birthing center move back to their home towns and stay with their parents for a month prior to their due dates so they could have a chance at the birth they wanted.

Spreading the word about the joys and benefits of natural childbirth is like a missionary effort for me. Once the door is open in someone's heart to consider natural child birth, I can tell them all the wonderful things that come with it. I can tell them that they can do it, because I did it. I can tell them how empowered I felt and how great I felt afterward. Not only that, but I had a private room with my baby, my husband stayed with me, and we checked out when we wanted, about 24 hours later.

Incidentally, I talked to that friend who first told me about the birthing center after she had her second baby there. "How was it?" I asked her. "Did you do hypnobirthing? What did you do to prepare for natural birth?"

"Nothing," said said. "I just did it."

My mom says the same thing. I have thought about this a lot since then. I think that many of us, when we chose to go against the current way of doing things, need classes and months of preparation and affirmations just to unlearn all the fears and negative thinking about birth. Don't get me wrong, preparation is not something I recommend going with out--but in her case, there was just no other option in her mind. She didn't going in saying, I'm going to try to do it naturally this time. She just did it. I think making up our minds is a bigger part of it than we know.

Natalie and Olive

Thanks for this post, Natalie. It is sad that it takes horror stories or bad experiences to motivate women to take charge of their births, but I don't judge how one gets to natural birth, so long as they do. I am so glad that your friend had a better birth the next time.

Having lived (and loved living) in New York City, I feel for the women there on a personal level. I am a huge home birth fan, but knowing the city, I also know that home births aren't always the ideal they would be elsewhere (homes are often very small, have almost no amenities, and are in extremely close proximity to everyone else). I had a fantasy last night about a dreamy, five-star LDS birthing center in Manhattan, (on the floor above the temple--wouldn't that be fantastic?) that took women of all faiths but gave preference to LDS women. Of course, it would still be booked and if you weren't a member it would be as hard to get into as the other birthing center. Thinking about this, I thought that, given the hospital conditions in NY, and how desperate pregnant women (and New Yorkers) can be, women might even investigate the church just to get a spot in the birthing center.

Hey, I don't judge how people come to natural childbirth and I certainly won't judge how they come to the gospel.

Mandi's Story

This is Busca talking: As I reflected on the infertility and adoption story submitted by Mandi, I thought of this scripture:

A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow . . . but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. (John 16:21)

Though Mandi did not physically give birth to her son, her story is filled with the travail of bringing him into her family. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that she endured far more travail and “sorrow” bringing her one son into her family than I have endured giving birth to all of my children. Then, when she finally had her child in her arms, her joy was beyond words. The Lord, in His tender mercy, always over-compensates us—either in this life or the next—for the trials we endure in faith.

Enjoy this condensed excerpt of Mandi’s tear-jerking, heart-warming story:

I received my patriarchal blessing when I was 15. At the time, there were two big questions in my heart: Would I marry, and would I have children? As the patriarch placed his hands upon my head I felt the spirit very strongly. And then he spoke these words that brought so much comfort to my soul: “Mandi, you will have the opportunity of dating. Be very selective in the young men you date, date only those young men who will be worthy to take you to the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity. For there will be children born into your home, born under the covenant, and you, along with the husband you do choose, will have a great responsibility in rearing them, and teaching them the gospel.”

After receiving that blessing at age 15, I could have told you exactly how my life was going to play out. I would graduate from high school, and go to BYU the following fall. I’d take off a couple of semesters for a mission when I turned 21, then I’d come home, graduate, and then get married. I’d have 5 or 6 kids, and, when I got older, I’d serve a mission with my husband.

Well, that was the plan. At least the first part worked out as scheduled. After my mission I did graduate from college, but I didn’t get married. At least not right away. I wouldn’t meet my husband until 5 years later, when I was almost 30. We started trying to conceive right away, but nothing happened. I started seeing a healer who helped me cleanse some allergies and get my body back on track. My headaches went away, I started having regular periods. But still no baby.

We fasted month after month. I would cry and plead with the Lord to give us a baby. We prayed and prayed and prayed. There were women in my ward that were my age--33, 34, 35. They had 15 year-old daughters. They had 3-6 kids. They were done. They looked at me and wondered why I “didn’t want children.” They thought I was wrapped up in my career or had chosen something else.

If only they knew.

We wondered if we should adopt. We wondered if the Lord would heal my body and allow me to conceive. I was so tired of waiting. I wanted a little baby to love. I wanted to change poopy diapers and get up for midnight feedings. My patriarchal blessing did say that we’d have children “born into our home, born under the covenant.” That sounded pretty straightforward, right? Should we just cling to that, with faith that it would one day come true? Or did we have to do something to get there? Is that the real test? We just didn’t know.

On New Years of 2008, Jack and I toasted the New Year with a bottle of sparkling cider and promptly crawled into bed. But I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was another year without a baby. The pillow quickly became soaked with my tears. It felt like my heart would break. I seriously considered leaving Jack so he could remarry and have a family with someone else--a real woman that could have children and make him a father. I was completely hysterical that night. I had had trials in my life before--but nothing like this. This was the hardest thing I’d ever been through.

We’re not sure when/if we ever got a concrete answer about adoption, but all of sudden we had the paperwork and were turning it in to LDS Family Services. It took several months to get all the paperwork completed, and to do the required background checks, fingerprinting, etc. It is quite a lengthy process.

Over a year and more trials later, on June 23^rd 2009, were contacted by a birthmother named Melissa. She had found our profile on LDS Family Services website, and asked if we were still working with LDSFS. (We had give up on them and gone with another agency we hoped would be faster.) We felt such a connection with her. Later, we met Melissa and were so impressed by her strength and wisdom and selflessness. She was a beautiful young woman, inside and out. We loved her immediately. Then I flew out to Utah the first week of September for Melissa’s 20 week ultrasound. It was very emotional to see that precious little baby for the first time.

That Christmas, after spending time with Jack’s parents in Utah, we were supposed to fly home, but the day before our flight we got a text message from Melissa saying that she was at her midwife appointment and that she was dilated to a 4, and 70% effaced! (She wasn’t due until January 16.) We decided to stay, and just wait it out.

About a week later, on January 8, Melissa went into labor. Melissa's mom and I held her legs while she pushed for about an hour-- and there he was! I got to cut his cord. He had big brown eyes and lots of dark hair. He was perfect. Our hearts swelled with love for our new baby boy, and we felt like the luckiest people on earth. We named him Leo Joseph.

Forty-eight hours later, we waited in another room while Melissa was signing the relinquishment papers. The case worker came in and said that Melissa wanted to talk to me, so I went in.

She was crying hysterically and said to me, "Promise me he's going to be okay. Promise me. I know that I could be a single mom, I could do this. But I know that what he needs is a mom and a dad. He needs Jack. He needs a dad. I know his birthfather just can't do that for him."

We were both bawling by that point. My heart was breaking for her. I hugged her tight and told her how much we loved her, and how much we loved Leo and that we were going to be the best parents to him that we could be. We talked for a few minutes more, and she said that she was okay and was ready to sign.

A few minutes later, we signed our paperwork with the other caseworker, and then presented Melissa with a gift--a locket, so she can carry a photo of Leo with her always. We told her how much we honor her and love her. It was very emotional for all of us. Melissa and I helped dress Leo in his little outfit and got him ready to leave. She breastfed him one more time, and then she bundled him up, and handed him to me. It was time to go.

We had tearful goodbyes with everyone, and then Jack put Leo into his car seat, and we got him buckled in. This was it. He was all ours. I couldn't believe it! He was the most beautiful, precious thing I had ever seen.

Leo is now 5 months old, and we are overjoyed to have him in our family. We thank God for him every day. One month from now, Leo will be sealed to us for time and eternity, “as though he had been born under the covenant.” That will be a joyous, happy day.

I wish I were a writer or a poet, so I could find the words to convey the joy I feel when I look at my sweet boy’s face. He is an angel. A miracle. I feel so privileged to be his mom. He was worth the wait. The pain of infertility has been washed away. I am so grateful for the Lord’s tender mercies, and I wonder why I did not trust him. Once again, the Lord has proven that he knows what is best for me. He loves me. The plan and timeline he has for my life is always right, is always best.

Meditation

“Don’t get so busy that you don’t have time to meditate. Take the time…. Christ may be nearer than we have knowledge. ‘I am in your midst, but you do not see me.’” –Harold B Lee.

Meditation is one of the most important and sacred things we must learn how to do in this life. President David O. McKay taught: “Meditation is one of the most secret, most sacred doors through which we pass into the presence of the Lord.”

Virtually every living prophet since then has said the same thing in different words. But what is meditation? How does it work? How does one meditate? And how can a practice of meditation assist us as we conceive, bear, nurture and raise children?

There are many different understandings of what meditation is, such as calming the mind, releasing ego, etc. Meditation can be all those things, but according to modern and ancient prophets, meditation is something more. Simply put, meditation is seeking and communing with the Spirit of the Lord.

Meditation is a form of prayer, but prayer is not necessarily meditation. In the Bible prayer and meditation were often written synonymously, but today most of our prayers are more like a monologue, or as President Hinkley said, like we are ordering groceries.

I believe that the reason so many prophets have had to remind us of the value of meditation is because we not desperate for Spirit. Many of us feel the Spirit somewhat regularly and spontaneously at church, and because of this, we think all is well.

Philip McLemore, a retired LDS Institute director and meditation teacher shared this in his article Mormon Mantras: “I was having periodic, if not regular, spiritual experiences, which had to mean that I was on the right path and progressing. It took a long time before I realized that having spiritual experiences often has little to do with spiritual transformation.” (p. 20)

I came to the same realization a few years ago. Despite all I knew and all my spiritual experiences, I was not becoming more Christ-like. I was not able to call forth compassion or other Christ-like behavior in difficult circumstances. However, when I was led to and started a practice of meditation that worked for me, I slowly transformed.

I believe the difference between prayer and meditation is the attachment to an end result. We are so used to praying and waiting for the answer to our problems or questions. This is because we believe and know that God answers prayers. That is right. But meditation is not about answers, per se. As Jesus taught, attachment to outcomes or goals only causes suffering. A better word is intention. Let’s say your intention is patience, or compassion or greater understanding of answer or enlightenment you have already received. If you meditate every day with openness to that intention and to whatever else may come or not come, over time you will find that you have more patience—or whatever your intention. Other benefits of meditation include: radiance, better health and happiness, increased capacity to love, increased unity with God and others, and much more.

How does it work?

Neuroscientifically speaking, every time you think a thought, or do an action, it creates a neuropathway. The more times you do it, or the more energy you attach to certain thoughts or actions, the deeper that pathway becomes. Think of a hose left one, cutting a deeper and deeper rivulet in the dirt. Let’s say that deepening rut is your negative thoughts. Pretty soon other related thoughts and feelings start to fall in that track—which means that you increasingly get into a similar state. Meditation creates new neuropathways which will eventually become new feelings and thoughts.

Hypnotically speaking, it works on the same level as hypnosis. By pondering on a loving God, regulating the breath, repeating a mantra, holding a mudra (or however you meditate), the mind accesses the Theta state and the new thoughts/intention are able to bypass the critical mind and reprogram the unconscious scripting without resistance. See last week’s post for a detailed explanation of this.

Spiritually speaking, it is the power of the Atonement. The neuroscientific and hypnotic findings are just proof of the mind/body/spirit connection.

How does one meditate?

There are many different ways to meditate. Even in the scriptures there are many different words that describe meditation (ponder, consider, study, treasure up, muse, rest upon your minds, think, pray). Elder Chauncey C. Riddle said, “meditation can not be taught, because it is something personal and private: it is the venturing of the soul into the unknown.”

Thus, you can see the challenge of writing about meditation. What works for me may not work for you. I like manta meditation, Rebecca prefers mindfulness, President Hinkley’s father used to sit on a wall in the thinker position. President Hinkley has recommended pondering the stars, or enjoying good culture. These are all good, and we might write a blog post on each different kind of meditation that we can think of at some point. No matter what you chose, however, there are several elements that meditation should include.

Desire/Faith –This seems obvious, but I still need to mention it. Faith can be as simple as a hope or a desire to believe.

Intention or Selective Focus – Remember the hose cutting a trench. It’s easier if you stick to one spot for a while. Examples of intention might be openness, patience, understanding, peace. When you meditate, continually bring your mind back to your intention. This will get easier.

“Focused attention begins to build new neuronal circuits that, once established, will automatically activate those parts of the brain that involve motivational activity. And the more that activity is repeated, the stronger those neural circuits become.” (Newberg, p. 32)

Repetition – Daily repetition is important. Think about doing exercise. I used to be able to do 3 pull ups, but I stopped practicing and now have to build back up to that. Cognitive studies show that you need to exercise your brain daily to maintain the benefits achieved. It is the same in hypnosis. The more you do it, the faster you can get there.

Regulated Breathing – Our breath is our life. In some religious metaphors, breath is equated with spirit. So when we deepen our breath, we increase our spirituality. Also, regulating your breathing decreases metabolic activity in different parts of brain—such as the brain’s center for fear and anger. Thus, but regulating our breath we can control our mental and emotional states, which is essentially the core of our spiritual pursuit.

A Sacred Grove - Joseph Smith set the pattern. President Monson taught,

“Every [person] needs a sacred grove to which he can retire to meditate and to pray for guidance. Mine was our old ward chapel. I could not begin to count the occasions when on a dark night at a late hour I would make my way to the stand of this building where I was blessed, confirmed, ordained, taught, and eventually called to preside. The chapel was dimly lighted by the streetlight in front; not a sound would be heard, no intruder to disturb. With my hand on the pulpit I would kneel and share with Him above my thoughts, my concerns, my problems.”

Does it matter how long or what time of day? - Yes and no. Most yogis rise early. And the same schedule is followed by the general authorities of the church. Elder Kikuchi recommends rising before 6:30. Scientific and behavioral studies back that up. It is a naturally hypnotic time, as is just before bed. But any time of day can work, especially if done at the same time every day. But I have been known to fit it in whenever and however. Just as long as I don’t miss a day. The longer you do it the better (I’m talking minutes here), but I would start small and gradually increase. Start with three minutes a day and add one minute every few days. Some say the magic number is 12 minutes. Some say it is 18-20. But 3 minutes of focused meditation has more value than 20 minutes of unfocused meditation. If you can't get time alone, you can even incorporate your child into it. Babies and toddlers love meditation. My daughter often lays with her head in my lap while I meditate.

How can a practice of meditation assist us in pregnancy, birth and motherhood?

I listed some of the benefits of mediation above, including an increased capacity to love and increased unity with God and others. It also lowers anxiety and depression, enhances social awareness and empathy, improves cognitive and intellectual functioning, buffers you from the effects of aging and stress and gives you better control over your emotions. I can attest to this. It has enabled me to have compassion in unlikely circumstances, which has helped me in motherhood. Meditation also helps us find answers to daily problems. Even though I said we should not get attached to finding the answers, insights often come when our minds are calm. Meditation can also heal and fill in any residual emptiness in our hearts that come from being mortal. Here is a story about a mother from an August 2009 Ensign article by Elder Kikuchi:

“I know a good member of the Church who has a successful marriage and six beautiful children. She is trying to be the best companion she can be to her husband and the best mother she can be to her children. She is an effective Young Women leader in her ward. But sometimes she feels she isn’t good enough. She becomes discouraged and feels an emptiness of soul.

She came to me one day with her husband and described the powerlessness she feels at such times. She had discussed her concern with her priesthood leaders and especially her husband but had yet to find relief. I suggested that after her husband left for work and their children were in school, she find a place in her home and there reverently and humbly visit with Heavenly Father. I suggested that she express her gratitude to God for her blessings and then wait for His holy inspiration. She committed to do this daily.

Sometime later I received a letter from her. She said that as she went to her knees in those quiet moments each day and dropped her burden at Heavenly Father’s feet, He took her concerns away. She felt of her great worth to Him and learned more of “the healer’s art”4 as He healed her soul.”

A 40 Day Challenge

Most studies on meditation and the brain have been done on long time meditators, but in a recent scientific study, researchers took people who had never meditated before and gave them a meditation to do for 12 minutes/day. They gave them baseline tests and brain scans and then scanned and tested them again after just 8 weeks. The results surprised them. They saw marked changes in the scans as well as the motor skills and memory tests of the subjects. In just 8 weeks! That is fantastic. I suspect that they would have found the changes as early as 40 days. As anyone who has read my Babymoon post knows, 40 days is a significant number. It is the number of change.

Romans 12:2 says, “Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

I challenge everyone reading this to start a 40 day meditation today. Pick a meditation—or if you are totally at a loss, email me about what’s going on in your life and I will help you come up with one. Then do it every day for 3-20 minutes per day. If you miss a day, you have to start over. Be open to what comes. I can’t tell you where it will lead you. As Nephi said, “I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.” (1 Nephi 4:6.)


Call for Stories

I would love to hear about your experiences with meditation, past, present and future. You know where to email them to me. I am especially interested in stories for the book, so if you have any that relate to conception, pregnancy, birth or mothering, please send them my way.

Kelsey's Story

Kelsey F sent me her story several weeks ago and has agreed to let me share it here. It is a great example of how preparation can melt away fear. Kelsey had her baby at home in Provo, Utah (she says it is a good thing she didn't scream because she lives in a duplex). I hope you enjoy her story as much as I did.

"Like most people in our society, I grew up with a “healthy” dose of fear surrounding birth and motherhood. It wasn’t just the television shows where a woman in an ugly hospital gown yells “you did this to me!” that perpetuated this fear. It seemed from my perspective that jokes and complaints about the difficult nature of kids, and the pain of birth, was a sort of sport among adult conversations whenever the topic came up. The beauty and joy of motherhood seemed a topic reserved for young women’s lessons that came up every couple of months or so. Even so, I found it interesting that for all the talk of the divinity of womanhood that sex, birth, and breastfeeding still were treated like embarrassingly taboo subjects.

"So it happens that when my husband and I had a pregnancy scare, I spent my time trying to decide if my need for an epidural would outweigh my fear of needles. Nobody talked about any alternative choices. That probably would have been the extent of my research if the pregnancy hadn’t turned out to just be a case of newlywed “where-is-my-period!?” paranoia. The shock of realizing I could have had a child without knowing anything about it sent me on an information hunt that eventually revealed the option of natural birth.

"The things I researched made sense to me in every way. Logically, emotionally, and spiritually I felt that there was a better way to birth than what society assumes is necessary.

"I wondered why, if we were made in the image of God, would so many women need delivery by surgery? Why would so many of us need inductions and drugs and tools just to do what we were divinely appointed to accomplish? Would God give all of us broken bodies? Of course there would always be some emergencies and some complications, but why were so many women “needing” them now when not so many years ago they didn’t even exist. Didn’t Eve, Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mary all give birth without Pitocin?

"Why do we no longer trust in God, but in the arm of flesh? We see every pregnancy and every birth as dangerous and life threatening. Our decisions are guided by fear and worry. I just don’t believe that God would make one in three women faulty to the point of being unable to birth. Yet one in three births is a cesarean.

"I felt quite drawn to natural birth, and became obsessed with it three years before I would even experience it. I feel like this was an important time for me to cleanse my feelings and emotions toward birth. I believe that being spiritually, emotionally, and mentally prepared has made all the difference than if I had given birth before this process of self-discovery.

"Our son was ready and excited to come into this world. We talked about “not trying and not preventing to see what happens.” We talked about how we’d let Heavenly Father decide when the right time was to send us a baby. We expected it to take several months at least. The very next month I got a positive pregnancy test.

"I had a wonderful pregnancy. I feel like working through my doubts and fears also helped me avoid being more physically ill than I could have been. I would attribute my lack of sickness and pain partially to being blessed with good genes, but more importantly to feeling positive about my upcoming birth and about motherhood. I always felt worse physically when I was more worried or stressed. I truly believe that the spirit and body are connected and influence each other greatly. In any case, I couldn’t credit any particular diet or exercise program as I didn’t exercise and probably ate worse than was wise.

"It was also important to me to select the right midwife. I interviewed a few midwives that just didn’t feel like a good fit emotionally or spiritually. When I found Sherri, I knew she was interested in me as a person and had the Spirit with her. We were more in-tune with each other than any one else I had interviewed. I was comfortable giving birth with her.

"When I was in my 36^th week, I decided it was time to document my pregnancy. I felt big and beautiful. I planned on making a belly cast and doing a pregnancy photo shoot. It was Thursday the 17^th of September that I went to get a new hair cut for the pictures I planned to take on Saturday. They were never taken.

"The very next morning at 1:00 AM my water broke. I called my midwife and we rechecked my dates. I was at 36 and a half weeks—barely far enough along for Sherri to feel comfortable attending a home birth. If I had gone into labor the day before we would have been in the back-up hospital instead. My son came at the earliest time possible while still allowing me to labor at home.

"My husband and I were both nervous about going into labor before term. However, as we talked it over, a feeling of calmness came over me. I told him that Sherri was willing to let me labor at home as long as the stats stayed good. I also said that even if we had to transfer I was grateful for the technology available, and I knew that everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t my preferred way to birth. I also felt like I would have a good experience regardless of where I ended up. I knew I had done my part, and trusted the Lord to do his.

"The contractions came on hard and fast. They varied between 2 minutes and 5 minutes apart and generally lasted around a minute. We asked Sherri and Melissa, my doula, to come as quickly as things seemed to be getting quite intense. Sherri later told me that as she got in her car and said a prayer that she knew she was going to be a part of something special.

"I spent most of my time in the bathtub holding my husband’s and doula’s hands and trying to cover my belly in the shallow water. I couldn’t fill it very high without using all the hot water. I had hoped for a water birth, and was waiting for Sherri to bring a birth pool. I wanted to make sure we had enough warm water to fill it.

"She came at 4:35 AM and I climbed out of the tub for a check. I was nearly complete! Because we didn’t have time for the pool, we set up a birthing stool in the living room instead. I sat down and, after only four and a half hours of labor, at 5:37 in the morning my sweet, eager little boy was born. He was 6 pounds, 13 ounces, and absolutely perfect. I am thankful to have been able to birth naturally in the comfort of our own home.

"We were blessed not to have any complications with him, even at three and a half weeks early. I know the Heavenly Father was with me, and I know that I was so very blessed. I also know that birth can be normal, simple, and even easy if it is the Lord’s will. I learned that with birth as with every other challenge, it’s important to prepare ourselves, do our part, fear not, and leave the rest up to God."

God's Timetable

This week I was thinking about God's timing and His plans for each of us. I am constantly thinking about this and trying to surrender to Him. For the last year or so--or maybe my whole life--I feel that surrendering to God's timing means that I have to be patient. Waiting for what I want, or waiting to find out what God's plan is, or waiting on other people is extremely difficult for me--or has been, until recently. Maybe it is all that meditating, but I have begun to be pretty Zen about it. So much so that I now wonder about the flip side. I realized that there have been just as many times in my life when God has asked me to do something faster than I felt ready. And I wonder if I have been as willing to jump in without fear or hesitation?

When God is operating in this mode with me, He usually gives me the inspiration about what He wants me to do at 10:30 p.m. the night before. Maybe this is so I don't have too much time to think and get nervous about it.

At times like this, this is how my discussions with God have gone: "No way. You want me to do what? Oh Man. Really? Why? I can't do it. I don't want to do it." This is usually followed by a calm feeling of "Yes you can, I will help you."

Now that I think about it, though, even at the times when the inspiration seemed sudden and I felt unready, it may have actually been the end of a long period of active waiting, and not sudden at all. Hmm. I will have to think more on this.

C.S. Lewis only sort of jokingly said in The Problem of Pain, that it's pretty easy to know when inspiration is from God because it directly contradicts what we want. I know plenty of women who wanted to serve a mission, but felt literally pushed by some force into their future husband's path. A friend of mine said that right after she had her first baby (it was a difficult pregnancy with nausea so severe she blacked out) she felt like she was supposed to have another baby right away. She didn't say anything, but when her husband said the same thing to her, she admitted that she felt it, too. Who knows why these first two souls needed to be so close in age, but I admire them for their faith.

I don't always know why the Lord tells me to do stuff until much later, but when I do get the A-ha I can't say enough about how great God is. Once I heard a guy get up and bear his testimony about how every now and then the veil lifts a little for him and he gets a glimpse of how "not random" everything is. I will never forget that testimony. It made perfect sense to me. It is in those moments that I can say to myself and to everyone with the utmost confidence that "Everything is going to be okay."

I am in the confidence of more than one friend who has, for the first time, decided to ask God about the timing of their next baby. Even though they have received their answers, they still look a little scared. So, I just thought I'd put this out there, no matter what your situation, everything is going to be okay.

He Gets It

Today I got some not-so-happy news and it spun me into an ugly depression. Spinning is really the best way to describe it--like being caught in a whirlwind and also having that same tornado in your head and stomach. I write a lot here that is meant to be happy or inspiring--but I want it to be known that I get that life is hard--that there are moments that I just don't want to go on. But I also know that if I stop swimming I will drown. There is no one else for me hold on to.

Or is there?

I have been thinking about the Atonement of Jesus Christ lately. We talk a lot about it in church and we all sort of theoretically get that he descended below all and some way, which neither chemistry or physics can explain, took upon Himself all of our sins, suffering and pain. I've used the Atonement many times in my life, for repentance, but mostly for the healing from sorrows and pain. And it amazingly works. But each time something new and painful or sorrowful comes up in my life I have to stop and think, is this something God understands and cares about? And then, each time, I wonder: How do I do this? How do I access the Atonement?

I am writing this to remind myself and anyone reading that yes, this is something God cares and he does get it. Even though we can't possibly comprehend with our mortal brains how the Atonement actually happened, somehow, it did, and Jesus Christ did actually feel all the sorrows and sins and physical pain of all the people in the all the world ever. But just thinking of all the pain in my own lifetime is enough for me to get weak at the thought of it.

There is a cool quote one of my collaborators sent me that I can't find right now, but it's about how we can't think of the Atonement generally--because it is very specific. Jesus Christ didn't just take on the "sins and suffering of all the world." He took on the pain of my abusive marriage and abandonment and divorce, so that when I think about it, it pains me no more. Jesus Christ understands more than anyone what is like to watch your mother deteriorate with cancer. He understands the anger of learning that your ex-husband molested all of your daughters, of losing all your savings in a bitter custody battle, losing your two year-old because of E coli in the spinach you were feeding her to grow healthy and strong. He knows what it's like to bleed through your white shorts on a date, to throw up 12 times in one day, the shock of your unplanned and unmarried pregnancy, the bittersweet miscarriage of that pregnancy, the stress of an overdrawn bank account, the sadness of another year without a baby, or another year without having a husband, because he died at thirty-four. He knows what it's like to watch people you love take the wrong path, to lose your house in foreclosure, to lose your dancing career because you had a baby. He gets it.

Jesus Christ has felt and knows all of this personally. I think sometimes we get wrong messages from outside or inside that tell us every sin or additional sorrow we experience is adding more to Jesus' pain. It's not true. He already went through it, and He did it so we don't have to--if we can accept and use the Atonement. So how do we access the Atonement?

My friend Sara used to say, "Just throw it on Jesus." I like that image of physically lifting the burden off my back and throwing it at Jesus' feet. But as far as how it is actually done, that is one of the most personal and difficult to describe things.

For me it involves a lot of prayer, meditation, and reading about the life of Jesus Christ. It is not instantaneous. It takes time and real faith in the Atonement. It also takes forgiveness. Of myself and others. But that is a whole other blog post. Maybe tomorrow. I am still trying to spin myself up.

The Giving - A Review

I have often struggled with some aspects of writing a book and blog of this nature because it excludes maybe people. I keenly remember how it felt to be the only childless woman in a group of moms talking about their birth stories. For many years I feared that I would never be able to have children, and I have been with many friends and relatives through the emotional roller coaster of trying and failing to conceive. I met Mary and David when I moved into my current ward 8 years ago and we were fast friends. They had one adopted daughter already, and a few years later, they were able to adopt a boy. It was the closest I had come to the adoption process, and I honestly thought it was preparing me in case I couldn't have children. As it turns out, however, my body is a great baby maker, and Mary turned out to be a great film maker.

When I put out my call to LDS filmmakers, I forgot to give a shout out to Mary Durnin Firth for the important work that she has done. As an adoptive mother, Mary always felt like people misunderstood birth mothers. She told me this many times.

Mary and her husband moved to Montana shortly after they adopted their son, and Mary started a Masters Degree in Fine Art at the University of Montana. When it came time to do her thesis, Mary tried to shoot some PSAs but nothing was working. I remember when they visited Los Angeles that summer to meet Jason's birth mother, Mary told me that what she really wanted to do was make a documentary on birth mothers, but she was afraid she couldn't do it well enough. "Whatever," I said. "Nothing else is working because this is what you need to do."

Mary's documentary, The Giving, now a four-time festival winner, is a brave and beautiful exploration of adoptive mothers and why they make the choices they make. She interviews six different women. Some were young, others were older. One women was married with two children when she decided to place her third child up for adoption. The film shatters any stereotype one might have of women who give up their babies.

The women share their feelings from the moment they found out, to the decision to place their child, signing papers (the most heart-rending chapter), and life afterward. There is one scene that I can't forget where a birth mother tells about the birth of her daughter. Her husband decided not to be there so the adoptive mother was her support person. When they put the baby girl on her chest, the adoptive mother throws her arms around both of them and the three of them are frozen there in this amazing lovely moment that I think captures what the film is really trying to say about adoption.

The Giving is an incredibly emotional documentary that shows the amount of love and selflessness and maturity it takes to be a birth mother. I recommend it not only to anyone who might be thinking of adopting, placing for adoption, or is adopted, but to all mothers and young women.

You can watch a preview and buy it here: www.thegiving.info
You can also buy it on Amazon.

My Introduction: Treasuring Life

Dear TGOGL Blog Readers,

Hello! Hello!  I get to be the first to introduce myself.  My name is Robyn Allgood. I promised Felice I would try not to be too nerdy. Ha! Actually, Felice told me I could be as nerdy as I want.  And I really am just a BIG NERD!

So how did I come upon this project?  A little over a year ago I sat pregnant with my fifth baby.  I was discussing with my sister and mother pregnancy and birth.  I told them that birth had taught me a lot about the Atonement and the Savior.  My sister said, “oh really, explain that to me.” I tried to put it into words but found myself unable to articulate what I meant.

Being the birth junkie that I am I was annoyed with myself for not having the ability to explain how personal the Savior became to me as I gave life to my little ones.  So I grabbed a notebook and my scriptures and started writing.  My first draft of “Birth in Remembrance of Him” was 5 pages but soon became many more. (Don’t worry we are editing it so that it is easier to digest.)  

I admit to being afraid to share it and afraid to not share it.  I had poured my heart out in those pages and I was nervous of having it criticized.  At the same time I wanted other women to benefit from what I felt the Lord inspired me to write.  I knew He gave me the words and that He meant for them to be shared.  I saw the call for essays on this blog and decided to ignore my fears and send it in anyway.  I’m glad I did.  Felice invited me to join the group and write more. 

As I have witnessed the “offering” that each woman (and her family) has made to bring about this project I am humbled.  The women I have come to know via the internet are “wonderfully and fearfully made”(Psalms 139:14).  I think you will laugh, cry, and change as you read from the pages of this book. I know I have.

What else should you know about me?

If someone would have told me I would be a birth junkie someday I would have laughed.  I had some serious fears about birth (and anything involving blood for that matter).  My first baby was born by cesarean which taught me a lot.  I was scared to death to have another baby after that but I knew I was supposed to have more children so I started to devour birth books. 

I was convinced I needed to take a comprehensive childbirth class when I was pregnant with baby #2.  Options were limited in my community so we traveled 5 hours round trip each weekend to attend Bradley® classes.  I know it sounds crazy but the Spirit urged me there and luckily my husband was supportive.  We were blessed with an unplanned unassisted birth (90 min labor).  That birth changed our family forever.  I have since had 3 more beautiful VBAC births. 

I have been teaching Husband-Coached Childbirth® classes and attending births as a doula for the last 7 years.  Last year I helped start the first ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) chapter in Idaho and now we have a 3^rd chapter in the works!  I am also a part of a group called DOVE-Idaho (Doulas of the Valleys of Easter Idaho).  We provide free monthly childbirth classes to the community along with other support and information.

Being a part of this project has enabled me to combine my passion for birth with the things in life I treasure most: my love of the Gospel, my testimony of the Savior, and my family.  One of my favorite scriptures reads, 

“for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” -Matt. 6:21  

Part of my “treasure” is waiting for me in heaven.  His name is Kyle (my first VBAC).  He passed away when he was only 2 years old.  Missing his physical presence motivates me to do whatever I can to have an eternal family.  The Gift of Giving Life is about treasuring life. What greater treasure is there than to take part in such a divine gift?  My hope is that you will be inspired as this book takes life.

My Birth Story

Some of you are probably wondering about me and my story, so here is the abridged version:

I found out I was pregnant a week before my 28^th birthday. It was a planned pregnancy in as much as one can plan these things, but it was still a surprise. I honestly thought I wouldn’t ever get pregnant. I had pretty awful morning sickness, so I was just sort of struggling to survive and then my husband started acting weird and unstable. I won’t go into all the details but at 10 weeks pregnant, he filed for divorce.

He had mental health issues before, but his sudden need for attention was putting me through an emotional roller coaster. My hormones were going Kablowie, and my body was in mutiny. When it came to the morning sickness, I remember mostly feeling angry. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t eaten anything bad, and yet, I was sick and there was nothing I could do about it. On top of that, my spouse’s behavior was all over the place. He filed for divorce one day, then wanted to stay together forever, then asked me if I was going to get an abortion.

He had some mental health issues in the past, but it seemed that the pregnancy turned him completely upside down. We went back and forth for a while trying to “work it out,” but when he finally moved his stuff out two weeks later, I had an overwhelming feeling of peace and calm wash over me and fill my whole house.

And that’s when I knew it was the right thing. Of course, it took another two months or so before I stopped hurting on some other emotional levels (like accepting the idea of being a single mother), but for the most part, I felt really good almost immediately—also my nausea went away at right about that same time too.

I still couldn’t use the word divorce or divorced for a really long time, because I didn’t like the stereotype I had of the bitter divorcee. I knew I didn’t want to be like that. I realized then that I had a choice, to become bitter or become better. This was such a huge revelation to me.

I realized that I had been living with an abuser, and that was a life full of fear. I decided that I wanted to conquer some of my fears. I had all of this sudden confidence. I started reading a book on public speaking and the next month I got up and spoke in testimony meeting (after 10 years of avoiding it).

People started to notice that I seemed happier and more confident. They did not know yet that I was pregnant or had been abandoned. That was sort of shock to them.

Once people found out my situation, I was surprised by the outpouring of love and support that came from all sides. I didn’t have that many close friends in my ward because I kept sort of aloof from many people. My husband always told me that people didn’t like me (I realize now that he made up these stories) and so I became withdrawn and pretty unapproachable. Once I came out of that withdrawn state, I realized that people actually loved me and gravitated toward me.

So, much of my early pregnancy was spent growing into the fact that I was lovely and loved. I also stared to fall in love with the person inside me. I knew she was a girl before I even conceived and I knew her name because she told it to me, years before, in the temple.

When a woman at church, D, that I had only recently met, found out I was pregnant and that things were rocky, she instantly took me into her confidence. She had had her second baby during the midst of some serious marital turmoil and kept telling me how satisfying it was to have a natural birth. To do something to powerful. A victory.

I still remember sitting across from her at a coffee shop and listening to her whole story and thinking, I don’t want to think about this. I had been too afraid to think about how I would birth. Honestly, I was thinking of getting an elective c-section. I didn’t really know much about my choices.

But D and I became close, and I started frequenting their house around dinner time, they'd feed me, then we'd chat for a few hours and I'd go home and take some sort of homeopathic sleep aid, or, I’ll admit it, Tylenol PM, and drug myself to sleep.

She raved about water birth and she also told me about doulas. I thought the idea sounded insane—till I met Khefri, and I instantly knew she had to be my doula. More on that in a minute.

I had been seeing the same OBGYN for years. Her office was lovely. It was in an old Victorian mansion by the ocean in Santa Monica. It had a bit of spa feeling—in fact the upstairs was a spa, and in the loft was a yoga space. Once I got pregnant, however, I wasn’t getting much time with the doctor and I had a lot of needs. I needed someone to talk to me about my fears, but she seemed uncomfortable talking on that level, and she just didn’t have the time.

I wished my mother were around (she died when I was 11). But after talking to my aunt and some other older motherly type women, I realized that they weren’t much help. They either didn’t remember giving birth, or didn’t have much information or advice on it.

I just felt unprepared and blind. I am a reader, so of course I bought books, but the 5+ I bought were not much help. Then, when I was 4 months pregnant, my doctor’s office called and said that they had a childbirth education class that would meet for one Wednesday night upstairs in their loft. Did I want to go? I said sure. So I got D and my 2 pillows and we went. I had no idea what to expect.

It turned out to be a an introductory childbirth education class that I can’t categorize under any one method—but the woman teaching it, Khefri, was a goddess. She looked a lot like my OB. She was tall, gorgeous, part African American, part Native American, part European. She was stunning. Her energy, however, was different from my OB. She had a spiritual beauty that radiated from within.

Khefri gave us a bit of a crash course. She told us all about what to expect in a hospital setting and which rules we didn’t actually have to follow. I loved that, because I am a bit of a rule questioner myself. She agreed to be my doula and I started attending her yoga class. I can’t tell you how transformative this yoga was for me. It was a lovely group of women in a beautiful, healing space. We began each class by introducing ourselves and telling a little about what was going on with us. One woman, who was nearing delivery when I first started coming, said that she was planning to birth at home. I was shocked. “What will you do if you have a problem?” I asked her.

“I’ll just transfer to the hospital,” she said.

I was sort of in awe of this. She came back to the class to visit after she had her baby and said it went well. I guess you could say, I pondered all of these things in my heart.

I kept going to yoga and for the first time in my life I learned to meditate in a way that was really effective for me and I began receiving lots of personal revelation. I also started to have a cool internal communication with my baby.

Eventually as my pregnancy progressed, I realized that my baby was telling me that she wanted to be born at home. I love the idea of water birth, so I thought, why not.

So at 32 weeks I told my doctor that I wanted a home water birth. I was surprised by her reaction. She threw a fit. She told me that I was compromising my baby and released me from her care immediately. I left her office crying. The midwife I had engaged was a wonderful, spiritual woman. She told me not to worry. She told me to meet her back up doctor so that I would know that not all doctors were that way.

Indeed, her back up was a nice doctor, and sort of cute. I could tell my baby had a crush on him, so I told her not to get any ideas.

He said, "I know that as a home birth patient, this meeting is really just a formality, just in case." He admitted that home births are safe and he had no stigma about it. I asked if he wanted a copy of my birth plan, just in case, and he said that I could give it to him, but that he already knew what I wanted--a natural vaginal birth, as gently as possible.

Through the whole pregnancy, I missed my mother intensely. I did find great peace in meditating on her and my other female ancestors, and often felt her presence. Then, out of the blue, several of the widows in the ward sent a friend of mine as their representative to let me know that they were aware of the fact that I didn’t have a mother and that they were all (seven of them) going to volunteer to be my daughter’s surrogate grandmas and my helpers. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude. Some of them ended up being very key in my transition to motherhood and my daughter still calls one of them Grandma today.

I should mention how big a part the Atonement played throughout my whole pregnancy.

I had used the Atonement before in my life for forgiveness, but I had never understood how to use it to take away my pain and sorrow. I learned how. It’s not something I can explain, but I did read every scripture about Jesus I could find and I meditated on him. I also read D&C 121:7 over and over. “Thine afflictions shall be but a small moment.”

Then, this is what happened: at first, getting a divorce after 4 years of marriage seemed horrible—how would I ever I ever be able to be normal after so much abuse? How would I ever even be able to talk about it? But the Atonement is miraculous. I can only describe it like this. I can remember things that happened in my marriage, but they pain me no more. It is truly amazing.

* * * *

As her birth neared, the situation with my ex became very difficult. As an attorney, he was trying to us the law to bully me. He tried to opposed the home birth. He also egged my car, had people crank call me, and he even tried to force me to allow him at the birth.

Some people weighed in and thought I really should let him be there. I think they thought it would make him snap out of whatever it was and get us back together, but they didn’t understand that this man had physically and emotionally abused me. (I was still too ashamed of staying with him for so long and still wasn’t public about that yet.) And if I had learned anything, it was that emotional stuff is what causes most of the complications in labor, so my attorney told him where he could go. Needless to say, things were tense.

I tried to stay calm and focused, though. I didn’t want anything to interfere with my peaceful birth.

On the day before her guess date, I went to the acupuncturist for my regular appointment (for the swelling in my legs) and tentatively asked if she would induce me. She did. She asked me if I knew what labor felt like. I said no. She said it feels like cramps at first. Then it just gets worse and worse till you can’t stand it. I didn’t listen. I was sure it wouldn’t hurt at all because of all the hypnosis I had practiced.

I left her office and went home. About an hour later I had the warm burning menstrual cramp feeling. I thought nothing of it. Then I realized that the tightening in my belly could possibly be surges. So I called D. She came over and we timed my surges. They were one minute long, 4 minutes apart for an hour. In the childbirth education classes I had taken, everyone always said that when that happened (4-1-1), it was time to go to the hospital. So we called my midwife and I called my friend Bethanie and told her to come, too. I was so sure I was going to have my baby in an hour with no pain at all. I called my doula, but she didn’t seem to be worried. She said, “Oh you’ve got hours. Check in with me in the morning.”

I put on some comfy lingerie thingy and was lying on the bed, watching the movie and chatting with D.

When Davi, my midwife, came at 11 p.m., she checked me and I wasn’t even effaced. She asked how I felt. I was using my Hypnobirthing relaxation techniques and the surges didn’t feel painful at all, so I said I was fine, but my back was a little achy. She said I should try to sleep through them and she would come back at 6 a.m.

D filled the birth tub. Bethanie got there soon after. By then, there was no sleeping through anything. The surges were coming strong and I was feeling them in my back—not where I planned to feel them. I tried to breath.

Beth put a hot wash cloth on my back and applied counter pressure. But the washcloth got cold so fast, I got annoyed and said I was getting in the shower to let the water run down my back. I got in the shower and leaned on the 5-gallon emergency water bottles I store in there (it’s a big shower). And let the water run down my back and tried to deeply relax through the surges. After what I thought was maybe 30 minutes in the shower (I was so lucky to have a never ending supply of hot water—miracle?) I decided I had to have made quite a lot of progress and told Beth I wanted to call Davi again.

“Well, she’ll be here in a just a little while,” she said. “It’s already 4:30.”

“What? You mean I have been in the shower for a couple of hours?”

She nodded.

I was amazed. I had heard that time warps in labor, but that was amazing.

When Davi came she checked me and said that I was fully effaced but not at all dilated.

I was annoyed. I had been working so hard, and not dilated? She said she’d be back in an hour or so with her assistant and that she wanted me to walk. So Bethanie took me outside and walked with me, arm in arm.

At 730 or 8 my old bishop came over to give me a blessing. I told Davi we were going to go in another room and she said, “Oh, good, Prayer is good.” She was very supportive of the whole thing. Davi is Sikh and very spiritual.

I don’t remember the blessing at all, but Beth told me later that he specifically blessed that the midwife would know what to do and that everything would go well. (He did not say according to my plan.)

I labored in the tub a bit, which felt nice on my back. I kept trying to visualize my vagina opening as wide as the Grand Canyon. I kept thinking, "She has to be here soon." I have been doing this forever.

I puked again and Davi told me to stop fighting the surges. She was right, when I fought them, I puked. So I just let go and tried to breath. Her assistant kept checking the heart tones--it seemed like 5 minutes, but I guess was every 30. She kept checking my blood pressure too. I guess they were worried about it. Which is weird because I have always had low blood pressure. I didn’t think much of it, but Davi would occasionally tell me to open up and she’d throw some homeopathic pellets in my mouth to keep my blood pressure down.

At 10 a.m. my friend Lisa showed up from the airport. She had been planning on coming and we didn’t know if I would have a baby yet, but she told me a few days before that she was praying that she could be there at the most useful time, whatever that was.

They put her to work right away on hydration. They were giving me Pedia-lite because of all the puking.

Khefri, my doula, finally showed up around 1:00 p.m. and they made me walk again. This time Davi and Khefri were both supporting me. I remember a neighbor walked by us with her dog and saw me and asked. “Do you need a ride to the hospital or something?” She said.

Davi just smiled and said in her cheerful way, “Oh, everything is fine. She’s just in labor.”

“Uh. Exactly,” said the woman.

We just kept walking. I couldn’t talk through the surges. My back was killing me. Finally, I whispered, sort of ashamed of myself even as I said it, “isn’t there anything you can give me for the pain in my back?”

“Well, there are the sterile water papules,” said Davi.

“Oh, yes! Women swear by them in London,” said Khefri.

“What are those?”

“It’s just sterile water injected into the muscles around your spine and it temporarily paralyzes the muscles so you don’t feel anything.”

“What? How come I never hear of them? Do doctors know about these? Why don’t they give these in hospitals?” I asked.

“Because they are free.”

Even in labor, I was so annoyed. That needs to change, I thought.

We went back to the house and Davi warned me that it would sting really bad for about 3 seconds and then be fine. I bit on a pillow and it did sting, but it was brief.

The injections did help with the back pain, but it didn’t go away completely. I kept saying, “Can you put one right here. It still hurts right here.”

“That’s your spine, sweety,” she said. “I can’t inject one there.”

I was sort of whiney and weepy, but for the most part just trying to breathe deeply. I sat on the birth ball and leaned over the bed and Khefri massaged my back. Different people were handling the camcorder and whoever it was did a pretty good job. I liked how they occasional swung over to the clock to show what time it was. That was about 1:30.

Then she said she wanted to break the water because I was pretty far along and it hadn’t broken yet and she didn’t want to worry about opening it if I delivered her in the sac. When she broke it she warned me that if there was more than 1+ meconeum we had to go to the hospital. It was trace. Whew.

However, later, when I stood up, we saw more meconieum on the chux pad and she said it was between trace and 1+ and we had to watch it very carefully because the baby was stressed.

She had me try pushing once, but I didn’t feel pushy. I didn’t know exactly what to do. She checked me and said that I had a little lip of cervix that hadn’t effaced and it was blocking the head from coming down. She tried to reduce it with some tool. That hurt. I screamed out in pain, but it seemed to reduce it. I tried pushing again in different positions, but my baby didn’t seem to like any of them. Her heart rate was down to 90 or something. I pushed a few more times and her heart rate recovered, but not quickly.

Finally, Davi said, Felice that is three strikes, the muconium, the cervical lip and her heart rate in distress. She said, "Your baby is not going to be born at home." It’s time to go to the hospital. This is not an emergency; we just need to go now.

I was disappointed but I was so deep in laborland that I just went with the flow. I trusted Davi, and I was just trying to breathe through the surges.

We all piled into several cars. I didn’t even bother with the seatbelt. I was wearing a robe, naked underneath except for a bra. Davi’s assistant was in the back seat with me taking the heartbeat every 2 seconds (it seemed). Her heart rate was fine.

Davi cut in front of a line of cars on La Cienega and rolled down her window to tell the guy next to her, can we go ahead, it’s an emergency. So much for “this is not an emergency.”

They kept telling me, “don’t push,” and I kept thinking, "What are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“How do I not push?” I asked.

“Just blow.”

So I filled up my cheeks and blew. I guess I was pretty spaced out, looking out the window and not really responding to them. Davi snapped her fingers and said if I didn’t perk up they were going to try to give me a section. I instantly snapped out of it and acted very perky. “Hi, how are you? I’m good.” I said. They all laughed.

When we got there, we parked and took the secret back entrance I thought I might get a wheelchair or something, but she said, "We don’t have time for that. Run.” So they pulled me, half running behind them with my robe flying open. When we go to the floor, Davi asked the first person she saw where our room was. “I called ahead. Dr. C is meeting us here.”

“Oh,” said, one of the nurses, barely looking up. “It’s the failed home birth.”

Davi didn’t hear her. She saw the room number up on a board and just started pulling me in that direction.

I don’t even remember what the nurse looked like, but her words totally crushed me and did for a long time afterward. If I had been less vulnerable I might have been able to say, I am not a failure. I am here because my midwife brought me here and that is what a good homebirth midwife is supposed to know when to do.

Dr. C showed up and Davi explained what was going on and her reasons for transferring. I was on my back and Dr. Chin asked me if I wanted to try switching positions to all fours or something else. I thought this was very nice of him to ask that, but I couldn’t move. I was crying about feeling like a failure and once on my back, it felt very painful to move. So I didn’t. I pushed a few times, with people holding my legs back.

Pushing didn’t make sense to me. Maybe it would have if I had been in a different position, but even at home, I hadn’t really gotten it.

Looking back on it, I see how the mind-body connection was at work. Though I was anxious to meet my baby and get her out, I also didn’t want her out. I knew that once she was out in the world I could no longer protect her. I knew that once she was born, I would have to deal with my ex again, who had already started to use her as a pawn. So I wasn’t really giving pushing any real effort. I was whining, crying and sort of hoping someone else would make a decision for me. I gave a few okay pushes and then Dr. C told me that my baby was having more trouble recovering after each one and that he’d give me the chance to do it myself, but if I didn’t do it soon, he’d have to use the vacuum. I didn’t do it on my own, so he used the vacuum on the next push and she was out.

It was amazing. The only way I can describe the release of pressure on my belly is like a zit popping. I never really felt the ring of fire, or much physical pain at all during pushing. (I’m not sure if this was effective hypnosis or a miracle or endorphins or all three.)

They put my baby girl on my belly and I grabbed her arms and pulled her up to my chest. The connection was instant. This was what all this work was for. They took her a way for a few minutes to check her over, but all of my birth companions were watching them like mama hawks and making sure she was okay and talking to her. Then they brought her back and Bethanie and Davi helped me latch her on so she could nurse. She was a little tired, but she nursed right away.

Right after the birth I was giddy with endorphins. Dr. Chin took about an hour to sew me up, so I was just laying there with my baby and enjoying being with my birth companions.

I remember feeling like my teeth were gross and said I wished I could brush them. Bethanie whipped out my toothbrush from my emergency bag and brushed my teeth for me while I held my baby and then gave me a cup to spit and water to drink.

I have never had anyone brush my teeth—at least not that I remember—but I will always remember it as one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. I couldn’t get up or do it myself and having clean teeth felt so nice. I still cry when I think about it. It was such a gesture of pure love.

My birth companions shielded me from a lot of the hospital nonsense that was going on around me. I didn’t find out till later that the nurse was having a hissy fit in the corner because I had refused the eye drops and the vitamin K shot.

We forgot to look at the clock for the exact time of her birth but it was about 3:19 p.m. (only about 30 minutes after we got there) on her guess date (June 16, 2006). Incidentally, I was also born on my guess date. I guess we are punctual people.

Dr. Chin told me I could go home 6 hours after I was admitted or 24 hours or 48 hours. By the time he told me this that would have meant we would leave in 3 hours. I didn’t think I would be ready to walk in 3 hours, so I opted to stay overnight.

Lisa, who had flown in from New York and was planning to stay at my house, stayed at the hospital with me. All the others went home after lots of pictures.

I got lucky and had some wonderful recovery nurses. Despite not being able to walk yet, I was full of giddy energy and talking about the birth with Lisa.

Finally, Lisa, who had also been up all night on a redeye from New York, said, “You should get some sleep while that baby is sleeping,” so I decided to settle in and try. A nurse came to check my vitals and I agreed to let her if she promised to tell the other nurses and the next shift not to bother me. I didn’t need my vitals checked every 4 hours. I was fine.

She said she’d take care of it.

I finally fell asleep and about an hour later another nurse--the next shift--came in to check my vitals. I told her that I was going to check her vitals if she didn’t get out of there.

She looked pretty shocked. I don’t think anyone had ever done that to her before. I felt bad, but not really. I was so tired after finally falling asleep and being woken up.

Phoebe slept the whole time. By 9 am I was ready to get the heck out of the hospital but they made us hang around a few more hours. I thought about just leaving, but they actually have an ankle bracelet they put on babies—so none get stolen—so if we tried to leave with her, we would have set off an alarm. Hmm. No worries about stolen babies at a homebirth.

When we left we took everything that wasn’t nailed down. I figured if I had to give birth in the hospital, I was going to get my money’s worth. Blankets, diapers, gloves, Advil, nail scrubber, underwear, pads, and pacifiers. I also asked them for my free gift, which I knew they usually gave out, but they did not offer me. Humph. It was a diaper bag filled with formula, which I threw out or gave away, but the bag came in handy.

Buckling her in to the car seat was not something I had wanted to do for 40 days, but we both survived it and we drove home.

The house was cleaned and everything was put away and laundry was done. The ladies had been busy.

I fell into my wonderful soft bed and just enjoyed being home. Davi came and checked on me and we talked. I told her about what the nurse had said and she said if she heard it she would have decked her. “You didn’t fail. You were a successful home birth transfer.

And you had a lovely birth. There was a lady down the hall who had an epidural; she was screaming her head off.” Davi told me that every one of the staff was in awe of me, and that I was very graceful.

I didn’t remember being graceful. I thought I had lost it. Later, when watching my birth video I realized that I was indeed graceful. (Another good reason to film your birth—you don’t remember it accurately).

I had also wondered, afterward, if we really needed to go to the hospital—If I could have done it at home, but in the birth video, I saw that when she came out, Dr. C unwound the cord from her neck, and she was a little blue when she first came out. So, while I could have done it at home, I know that my indecision about getting her out or keeping her in would have likely dragged things out and hurt her.

Looking back on the whole saga, I realize that what I was feeling must be how Heavenly Father feels. He knows we need a body, but once we come here, we are exposed to all the temptations and weaknesses of the flesh. He can’t protect us anymore--well, he can, but only as much as we let him.

Becoming a parent has brought me so much closer to understanding Heavenly Father and how much he loves us. I’m so grateful my little girl chose to come to me and I am so grateful that my body did everything it needed to do. It is truly divine. I am truly divine.