The Fourth Anniversary of My First Homebirth

My Masterpiece’s fourth birthday is upon us. I can’t believe it. On one hand, I’m glad she’s getting a little older and more independent; on the other hand, she’s hardly independent of me. She is the most attached of all five, including the one who nurses and sits in an Ergo all day. My Masterpiece is sweet. She has always had a glass-half-full-of-sunshine-and-rainbows outlook on life. For her birthday, she wants to go see a movie. I said, “Do you want to get popcorn too?” She replied, “No I just want water.” My Masterpiece!

My Masterpiece’s birth is special to me because she was my first homebirth. Homebirths are hardcore, because, like, you’re at home so YOU DON’T GET ANYTHING FOR THE PAIN, which kind of sucks because in my experience, labor and birth is painful. My uterus did not hug me. Waves did not build up slowly then crest. It wasn’t menstrual-like cramps. It hurt. I take tylenol for a paper cut. I drink alcohol when My Chemical Romance works nights. I do not endure discomfort with anything resembling stoicism.

Until the moment that My Masterpiece appeared, I literally did not know if I could do it. Ironically, I’d been a doula for five years before My Masterpiece was born, and nearly all the women I’d worked with had had unmedicated vaginal deliveries. I saw it two weeks before she was born. I saw it several months before. Over the years I was a doula, I saw all kinds of women do it: women who were sure they could do it, women who weren’t sure but wanted to try, women who seemed totally uninterested in it but it was “too late.” For some reason, I didn’t count myself among their ranks. They could do it — whether they wanted to or not. I wasn’t sure I could.

My Masterpiece’s birth made me realize that I could do things I wasn’t sure about. I could prove myself wrong about myself. I could SURPRISE myself. Up until then, I thought I knew myself pretty well. I thought I knew my limits. Not after that. It was then that I began to realize my awesomeness.

Also, although my experience with birth is that it’s a painful kind of suck-fest, I wouldn’t give birth anywhere BUT home again (unless I was pregnant with triplets, or had some serious complication). With Porcelain, there was never any question of where I’d give birth, although I did not have a waterbirth with her. There was never any question of my awesomeness either.

 

 

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2 Responses

  1. LOVE. I got risked out of homebirth, so I like to live vicariously. I can relate to the learning about my own awesomeness and ability to do more than I thought possible through giving birth. I had one cesarean for breech. I adopted one. And then I had two hospital VBACs (not why I got risked out; that was for diabetes), which were gorgeous and powerful. In fact the first one was so kick ass awesome, it was a large part of why I did it again. =)

    Your masterpiece really sounds like a masterpiece; I just want water? So cute.

    Rock on, you, for your awesome home birth!

  2. Thanks! I’m working on a blog about why I chose homebirth — mostly because I could not have had an unmedicated birth at a hospital. You and other women who do that are the REAL rockstars. If someone were offering me drugs all the time I’d wimp out and say YES PLEASE. At home at least there’s no choice.

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