My interest in birth work began many years ago when I was living in San Diego. I had a conversation with some co-workers about birth and the co-worker mentioned she wanted to have a home birth. At the time I'd never heard of anyone having a home birth before. It seemed like something done a hundred years ago when the hospital wasn't an option, not in today's modern society. She recommended I look up Ina May Gaskin and learn all I could.
My friend Ashleigh was planning to have a med-free birth. I remember seeing books on positive natural birth stories in her house while visiting her and realized this idea wasn't exclusive to my rather hippy co-workers and some modern day midwifes on a farm in Tennessee. There was something here that I found very fascinating and empowering.
I was immediately interested in an "alternate" way of birth. I watched the usual documentaries, read every Ina May book I could get my hands on, checked out some Sheila Kitzinger and Goer. Pretty much anything that caught my eye on the topic. All of this before having children of my own was ever on my radar. I considered at that point being a doula, but at the time I was operating a rather successful portrait photography business and decided to utilize those skills instead. I became a birth photographer.
I remember clearly the first birth I ever attended. This mother was a seasoned expert on home birth- it was her fifth child. Her oldest, a 12 year old red-head with a face full of freckles and bright brown eyes, was as much a birth pro as most doulas by the time this youngest sister was to join the family. We had initially meant to meet ahead of her birth for maternity images but we ended up meeting for the first time when I arrived at her birth. There she was- naked from the waste down in a birthing tub in her bedroom, definitely in labor with an intense focus. No time for small talk. I did my job, she did hers, and I marveled at this moment that I was being allowed to be a part of. I remember one moment when she leaned over the tub and asked her husband why she wasn't getting relief in between contractions. With love and encouragement he told her "that means it's almost time". It was nothing like in the movies. The midwife looked and announced that it was, indeed, time. The 12 year old hopped into the tub with her mom while she pushed. No one shouted, yelled, counted, or anything besides offer her quiet encouragement. When the baby emerged the 12 year old but out her hands and caught her baby sister with guidance from the midwife. Sister held sister while the mother turned over and took over. The baby nursed, we all marveled at this beautiful new life, and the younger kids were woken up and brought in to meet their sister. It was peaceful and lovely. I was hooked. I realized there was more to birth than having a baby. It was journey, a challenge.
Many compare birth to running a marathon, and, while I have never actually ran a marathon, I can imagine this is very true. It requires training, endurance, and there are many times in the middle when you just want to give up. If you persevere the reward at the end is unlike anything you could have ever imagined until you were there yourself.
By 2012 I was pregnant myself. To prepare for my med-free delivery with my own child I took several at-home birth prep courses. Blissborn Birth Hypnosis and GentleBirth were the two I really connected with. I listened to my hypnosis CDs day and night. I did every exercise and really focused on creating the best birth experience I could. My husband was there with me 100%, even doing some of the sillier exercises with me. And he endured listening to those CDs every night even though I know they drove him crazy. When the time came, I was able to do it. At a small community hospital in Cloquet, Minnesota I gave birth to my son without so much as an IV to get me through labor. Birth actually seemed easy for me (and, yes, I realize many people hate me for saying that!). I even turned to my husband as I held my newborn son on my chest and said "That was great, can I do that again!?" It was a feeling like no other. I felt strong, empowered. Having kids was AWESOME!
Flash forward to a year and a half later and I was once again pregnant. This time we were considering a move to a very rural community in Northern Minnesota. I remember talking with a co-worker about not wanting to move to this community and be away from the hospital I had my son at. I loved everything about that hospital- from the doctors to the incredible nurses I worked with to the spacious, modern birthing suites themselves. I loved the idea of having my baby in my community. I didn't even think the new community had a hospital you could give birth at, which left mothers driving 2 hours to the nearest city with a labor and delivery hospital. The co-worker grabbed her phone and looked up the local hospital and I was thrilled to see that they did, in fact, offer labor and delivery services. I figured it my experience in one small town hospital was so positive that this one could be just as wonderful. At least I could have my baby in my own hometown.
So we moved up there. And, yes, this was a huge deciding factor in moving. Around six months pregnant a post on Facebook caught my attention. The post informed community members that the hospital's insurance company had informed the board that they would no longer insure the hospital for labor and delivery services due to the inability to get someplace with c-section services within 30 minutes. Though there was an impassioned town meeting on the topic, the board's hands were tied. Labor and delivery would no longer be offered as of July 2015. Luckily, I was due in March. But in a crazy twist of events, while all of this was happening, I went into preterm labor at 32 weeks. I was rushed 2 hours away to the larger hospital. Luckily, labor stopped, but not before this trip down to the city caught the attention of a reporter for the Star Tribune who was doing an article on the loss of birth in our rural community. Yes, I am the mother mentioned in the first paragraph.
All of this, plus the stress of a new job and house hunting in a new community, distracted me. I didn't do my hypnosis courses like I had the first time. I assumed that I was an old pro now and didn't need these added supports. Plus, my first child had come very quickly so of course my second would come quickly, too! After 32 days of contractions every 10 minutes and dilating about 1 cm a week from 32 weeks on I was also TOTALLY handling this slow-paced labor just fine. So when my water broke at 37 weeks exactly I celebrated making it to 37 weeks (the magic point where I would not be rushed to the city and could birth in my hometown) by driving myself to the hospital 4 blocks away while "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" boomed on the radio. My husband was going to wait at home with our son until my parents could arrive to take over childcare. I went to the hospital alone, but optimistic.
It quickly became clear to me that every mother needs support. She needs the support from her family, her community, and her hospital care staff. While I know the hospital staff had my best interests in mind I couldn't help but play through the dialogues that had happened during the time births were being debated in town. Many nurses expressed how uncomfortable they felt when there was a laboring mother in the hospital due to lack of training and experience since there weren't many births here (about 10 a year). I wondered if my calm, kind nurses were really panicking inside and wishing I'd decided to go to the city. It distracted me. It took my husband and mother (my doula) an hour to get to me once I got to the hospital. That also distracted me. Suddenly Ina May's sphincter theory was playing true for me. After 32 days of near-constant contractions I suddenly was contraction-free. For six hours I tried everything to get things going. I wasn't successful.
I went into a room and cried when I realized I was not going to have my ideal birth again. I needed to go to the city, away from my home, with unfamiliar doctors and nurses. With protocols I was unfamiliar with. I was exhausted and wasn't sure I could fight for my child if I needed to. Then I put on my brave face and climbed onto the stretcher and went back into the ambulance for the 2-2.5 hour drive to the hospital. Of course, labor started almost immediately and with full force.
Long story short, I ended up getting an epidural. By the time I arrived I was unfocused, unable to move since I was strapped down, and had lost my fight. I had been separated from my support team, except my amazing doctor who joined me for the ride down. But when I arrived she had to leave me. I didn't know my care providers and just didn't have the energy to go med-free.
It was fine in the end. There's nothing wrong with getting an epidural, and, in my case, it really helped speed things up. I went from 5.5 cm to pushing in about 30 minutes once the epidural was placed. In fact, I didn't even push. I laid there while everyone yelled at me to push with a grin on my face knowing I had to do nothing- my body was finally being efficient. I was relaxed and it was wonderful. I just wish I'd gotten to this point without medical intervention.
It helped me realize that women in my community face many challenges with birth that are not common in major cities. We have 115 miles of windy narrow roads and a plethora of possible weather obstacles to overcome just to get to where we can legally birth our children. This drive is done not only while in labor, but also for prenatal care later in pregnancy so we can become familiar with our caregivers in Duluth. We lack access to natural birth courses, like birth hypnosis and even lamaze-type training, in our community. Many have partners who work out of town, often where there is no cell phone service. We face early induction and scheduled c-sections in order to avoid the possibility of having a baby on the side of an isolated highway. Our doctors in town care for us, but their hands are tied by an insurance company. It's daunting and potentially even dangerous.
This is where I found my motivation to do what I had thought about so many years ago and pursue certification at a doula and begin offering my services to my community. I've had both experiences- the relaxed, calm, gentle birth of my son and the frantic, stressful birth of my daughter. I know which labor I preferred. Even for those wanting an epidural having a supportive team and plan in place is helpful for creating this positive experience. Because birth shouldn't be feared or dreaded. It's a part of a journey, the crossing of that finish line, the first moments of a child's life. It should be embraced and celebrated. That's what I want to help with.
My friend Ashleigh was planning to have a med-free birth. I remember seeing books on positive natural birth stories in her house while visiting her and realized this idea wasn't exclusive to my rather hippy co-workers and some modern day midwifes on a farm in Tennessee. There was something here that I found very fascinating and empowering.
I was immediately interested in an "alternate" way of birth. I watched the usual documentaries, read every Ina May book I could get my hands on, checked out some Sheila Kitzinger and Goer. Pretty much anything that caught my eye on the topic. All of this before having children of my own was ever on my radar. I considered at that point being a doula, but at the time I was operating a rather successful portrait photography business and decided to utilize those skills instead. I became a birth photographer.
I remember clearly the first birth I ever attended. This mother was a seasoned expert on home birth- it was her fifth child. Her oldest, a 12 year old red-head with a face full of freckles and bright brown eyes, was as much a birth pro as most doulas by the time this youngest sister was to join the family. We had initially meant to meet ahead of her birth for maternity images but we ended up meeting for the first time when I arrived at her birth. There she was- naked from the waste down in a birthing tub in her bedroom, definitely in labor with an intense focus. No time for small talk. I did my job, she did hers, and I marveled at this moment that I was being allowed to be a part of. I remember one moment when she leaned over the tub and asked her husband why she wasn't getting relief in between contractions. With love and encouragement he told her "that means it's almost time". It was nothing like in the movies. The midwife looked and announced that it was, indeed, time. The 12 year old hopped into the tub with her mom while she pushed. No one shouted, yelled, counted, or anything besides offer her quiet encouragement. When the baby emerged the 12 year old but out her hands and caught her baby sister with guidance from the midwife. Sister held sister while the mother turned over and took over. The baby nursed, we all marveled at this beautiful new life, and the younger kids were woken up and brought in to meet their sister. It was peaceful and lovely. I was hooked. I realized there was more to birth than having a baby. It was journey, a challenge.
Many compare birth to running a marathon, and, while I have never actually ran a marathon, I can imagine this is very true. It requires training, endurance, and there are many times in the middle when you just want to give up. If you persevere the reward at the end is unlike anything you could have ever imagined until you were there yourself.
By 2012 I was pregnant myself. To prepare for my med-free delivery with my own child I took several at-home birth prep courses. Blissborn Birth Hypnosis and GentleBirth were the two I really connected with. I listened to my hypnosis CDs day and night. I did every exercise and really focused on creating the best birth experience I could. My husband was there with me 100%, even doing some of the sillier exercises with me. And he endured listening to those CDs every night even though I know they drove him crazy. When the time came, I was able to do it. At a small community hospital in Cloquet, Minnesota I gave birth to my son without so much as an IV to get me through labor. Birth actually seemed easy for me (and, yes, I realize many people hate me for saying that!). I even turned to my husband as I held my newborn son on my chest and said "That was great, can I do that again!?" It was a feeling like no other. I felt strong, empowered. Having kids was AWESOME!
Flash forward to a year and a half later and I was once again pregnant. This time we were considering a move to a very rural community in Northern Minnesota. I remember talking with a co-worker about not wanting to move to this community and be away from the hospital I had my son at. I loved everything about that hospital- from the doctors to the incredible nurses I worked with to the spacious, modern birthing suites themselves. I loved the idea of having my baby in my community. I didn't even think the new community had a hospital you could give birth at, which left mothers driving 2 hours to the nearest city with a labor and delivery hospital. The co-worker grabbed her phone and looked up the local hospital and I was thrilled to see that they did, in fact, offer labor and delivery services. I figured it my experience in one small town hospital was so positive that this one could be just as wonderful. At least I could have my baby in my own hometown.
So we moved up there. And, yes, this was a huge deciding factor in moving. Around six months pregnant a post on Facebook caught my attention. The post informed community members that the hospital's insurance company had informed the board that they would no longer insure the hospital for labor and delivery services due to the inability to get someplace with c-section services within 30 minutes. Though there was an impassioned town meeting on the topic, the board's hands were tied. Labor and delivery would no longer be offered as of July 2015. Luckily, I was due in March. But in a crazy twist of events, while all of this was happening, I went into preterm labor at 32 weeks. I was rushed 2 hours away to the larger hospital. Luckily, labor stopped, but not before this trip down to the city caught the attention of a reporter for the Star Tribune who was doing an article on the loss of birth in our rural community. Yes, I am the mother mentioned in the first paragraph.
All of this, plus the stress of a new job and house hunting in a new community, distracted me. I didn't do my hypnosis courses like I had the first time. I assumed that I was an old pro now and didn't need these added supports. Plus, my first child had come very quickly so of course my second would come quickly, too! After 32 days of contractions every 10 minutes and dilating about 1 cm a week from 32 weeks on I was also TOTALLY handling this slow-paced labor just fine. So when my water broke at 37 weeks exactly I celebrated making it to 37 weeks (the magic point where I would not be rushed to the city and could birth in my hometown) by driving myself to the hospital 4 blocks away while "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" boomed on the radio. My husband was going to wait at home with our son until my parents could arrive to take over childcare. I went to the hospital alone, but optimistic.
It quickly became clear to me that every mother needs support. She needs the support from her family, her community, and her hospital care staff. While I know the hospital staff had my best interests in mind I couldn't help but play through the dialogues that had happened during the time births were being debated in town. Many nurses expressed how uncomfortable they felt when there was a laboring mother in the hospital due to lack of training and experience since there weren't many births here (about 10 a year). I wondered if my calm, kind nurses were really panicking inside and wishing I'd decided to go to the city. It distracted me. It took my husband and mother (my doula) an hour to get to me once I got to the hospital. That also distracted me. Suddenly Ina May's sphincter theory was playing true for me. After 32 days of near-constant contractions I suddenly was contraction-free. For six hours I tried everything to get things going. I wasn't successful.
I went into a room and cried when I realized I was not going to have my ideal birth again. I needed to go to the city, away from my home, with unfamiliar doctors and nurses. With protocols I was unfamiliar with. I was exhausted and wasn't sure I could fight for my child if I needed to. Then I put on my brave face and climbed onto the stretcher and went back into the ambulance for the 2-2.5 hour drive to the hospital. Of course, labor started almost immediately and with full force.
Long story short, I ended up getting an epidural. By the time I arrived I was unfocused, unable to move since I was strapped down, and had lost my fight. I had been separated from my support team, except my amazing doctor who joined me for the ride down. But when I arrived she had to leave me. I didn't know my care providers and just didn't have the energy to go med-free.
It was fine in the end. There's nothing wrong with getting an epidural, and, in my case, it really helped speed things up. I went from 5.5 cm to pushing in about 30 minutes once the epidural was placed. In fact, I didn't even push. I laid there while everyone yelled at me to push with a grin on my face knowing I had to do nothing- my body was finally being efficient. I was relaxed and it was wonderful. I just wish I'd gotten to this point without medical intervention.
It helped me realize that women in my community face many challenges with birth that are not common in major cities. We have 115 miles of windy narrow roads and a plethora of possible weather obstacles to overcome just to get to where we can legally birth our children. This drive is done not only while in labor, but also for prenatal care later in pregnancy so we can become familiar with our caregivers in Duluth. We lack access to natural birth courses, like birth hypnosis and even lamaze-type training, in our community. Many have partners who work out of town, often where there is no cell phone service. We face early induction and scheduled c-sections in order to avoid the possibility of having a baby on the side of an isolated highway. Our doctors in town care for us, but their hands are tied by an insurance company. It's daunting and potentially even dangerous.
This is where I found my motivation to do what I had thought about so many years ago and pursue certification at a doula and begin offering my services to my community. I've had both experiences- the relaxed, calm, gentle birth of my son and the frantic, stressful birth of my daughter. I know which labor I preferred. Even for those wanting an epidural having a supportive team and plan in place is helpful for creating this positive experience. Because birth shouldn't be feared or dreaded. It's a part of a journey, the crossing of that finish line, the first moments of a child's life. It should be embraced and celebrated. That's what I want to help with.