I am so lucky to have three sweet boys, each one arriving in such different ways. My first son was induced at 42 weeks. I decided to get an epidural and was required to lay on my back for the rest of labor, which I hated. Eight hours of pushing that 9lb-4oz guy out, only to have him rushed away to the NICU, and even though his stay in the NICU was short and he came home with us, my most vivid memory of his birth is when the doctor yelled, “We need the NICU team here NOW!”.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy. We were new to Minnesota, and I was searching for a provider that would support me in my desire for a natural birth. After I interviewed a few that I didn’t click with, my friend mentioned that her midwife, Cheryl, had opened a clinic and birth center of her own. “THE Cheryl?”, I asked, “The one you were talking about when you said, ‘Cheryl for President!’ for months after your birth?” Yes, this was THE Cheryl, and I knew I needed to visit.
She asked about my previous birth at our initial appointment, and then, she became the very first person ever to say, “That must have been hard for you”. It was the first of many times that I cried in that Willow office and was met with nothing but support. I was sold; this was our spot. My second son decided to throw us a curveball (which is very fitting for his personality) and be breech until 39 weeks when an ECV turned him around. We ended up with a hospital induction, but with Cheryl’s support I had an intervention-free birth and got to be the first to hold him. We snuggled for hours and it was so healing.
There was no question that we would be going to Willow again for our third pregnancy. My husband, Chris, really encouraged me to consider the birth center this time. I thought I’d need an induction and worried about pain management, but he reminded me how relaxing it would be there, and truly, I couldn’t ignore the wonderful prospect of going home soon after birth and sleeping in my own bed. So we decided to go for a birth center birth, assuming there were no complications.
Throughout my third pregnancy I was supported at every turn. When the genetic test showed some potential complications, we were kindly walked through the next steps; when I was concerned about my PPD/A showing up again, I was encouraged to come up with a solid care plan to ensure my postpartum needs were met; when I was paranoid about his position, I was met with understanding (and a position check) at each visit.
I was 36 weeks into my pregnancy when I finally started to relax. We had a solid postpartum plan, a head-down baby, and we were ready to go. I assumed I would have another late baby, but then at 36 weeks and one day, I started having regular contractions at home. That first night I stayed up tracking them until they slowly stopped, and the next night I had none. These strange contractions got my hopes up. Maybe this would be my early baby? Perhaps I had paid my “overdue dues”? Each midwife I saw in the coming weeks encouraged me to continue meeting my daily needs, to eat, drink, sleep. Without that encouragement I would have been tired and depleted by the time he decided to make his debut...
...Because he arrived at 41 weeks on the nose, after five weeks of consistent contractions that never turned into labor. I had another prenatal appointment scheduled for the day he was born, where we were going to make the all-too-familiar induction plan. It was fine, I told myself; I’d had an awesome induction last time, and this one would be no different.
Instead I woke up at 3am to a “popping” feeling and a contraction. I went back to bed thinking it was just another false start, but then for the next three hours I woke up every ten minutes on the dot with a contraction. I didn’t let myself get my hopes up, but called the midwives just in case. Ashley answered and we decided that I would still come in for my 11 am appointment, sooner if things seemed to be progressing. Chris and I headed in around 10:30 while I lamented that this was probably just a false alarm, but he pointed out that I seemed to be breathing through contractions every five minutes now.
We entered the clinic and were welcomed by faces of pure delight: Kara at the front, Diane in the office, Illiana taking us back, all with a look of, “we’re so excited for you, today is your day!”. Ashley came in and we discussed what was happening, and while she was checking me she looked up and said “well there’s no doubt you are in labor, you’re at six centimeters.” The relief I felt was palpable! No induction this time, this guy was coming on his own.
She had begun the appointment by saying we could take a walk and get some lunch if we wanted, but after we discovered I was at six she said we could still go, but that we shouldn’t walk too far! We went down to the lake, and for a while I would stop and breathe during each contraction, but soon we knew it was time to head back because I needed Chris’s support at each one.
We moved into the birth suite and Grace got my Group B IV started. I decided to have it “pushed” rather than be hooked up to an IV rack, and being allowed to make this choice (along with many others) made me feel so empowered. Then we were left alone to get comfortable in the room. At some point the tub was prepared and they asked if I wanted to get in, and I said yes, since my contractions were starting to feel uncomfortable at this point. As I progressed in the tub, Chris sat next to me holding my hand. I kept my eyes closed for a while and tried to relax into the laboring, but I do remember opening my eyes at one point to see Ashley in front of me, with Grace and Nina behind and Chris still holding my hand. They were so content to watch labor unfold at its own pace. I had read the term “holding the space” before, and now I understood: they were all holding the space for me, letting it be what it was and staying available for when I needed them.
Eventually I wasn’t loving the tub, so I got out and headed to the bathroom. My typical transition symptom of throwing up happened, and so I thought we were getting close. I needed my next dose of antibiotics, so Grace came to push it into my IV again. I had a contraction as she was doing this and I remember putting my arms around her neck and leaning against her. She supported me as I swayed through it. Another moment of meeting me where I was at; the medicine could wait until I was ready.
After a bit I started to feel tired, and little or no need to begin pushing. Internally I felt frustrated and defeated, because this was taking longer than last time … I wondered if I could really keep going. I remember saying, “I can’t do this,” to a chorus of calm and sure replies, “you can and you are.” Ashley asked if I wanted to have my water broken, to which I replied an enthusiastic yes, and once that was done I was at nine centimeters. So close. I’m sure Ashley sensed my frustration and exhaustion, so she gave me some positions to help move him down. First we squatted in a runner’s lunge at each contraction, then we moved to the Rebozo scarf in the back hallway and she described how at the next contraction I should squat on my tip toes. Chris was supporting me through all of this. After the first squat I remember laying my head against the wall and in my head saying, “Watson, we can do this, we’ve got this.” During the next squat I pushed with everything I had and finally started to feel him coming down. “He’s coming,” I said. Ashley was already there, but everyone else quickly moved to action. Grace brought a light, Nina was right behind her. It was another cool moment of them meeting me where I was at, because pushing while squatting was perfect for me and they were fine with that. No moving to the bed required, let’s have this baby in the hallway.
When Watson came out he had the cord around his neck. Ashley had me lean back on Chris (who was leaning against the wall) so she could unwrap it, then my sweet boy came out and onto my chest. He cried the sweetest cry as I held him close and said, “I did it!” I delivered the placenta and then we moved to the bed. After assessing that I didn’t need stitches, everyone left the room and gave us an hour to bond. It was so wonderful to hold my little guy and rest.
We got around to weighing and measuring him: 8 pounds, 14 ounces, 21 inches, born at 5:30pm. Then after we were all checked out and deemed healthy, we were discharged, and that night we got an amazing amount of sleep in our own bed. Grace came to visit us 24 hours later and it was so great to just stay in bed while she checked us out. I never knew that birth and postpartum could be so calm and relaxing. I felt so supported at every turn, and I am so grateful that we chose Willow.
Laura Larson lives in Arden Hills with her husband and three boys (ages 6, 4, and 5 months), a 10-year-old Weimaraner, and a gecko. She works full time negotiating contracts for a local bank. When she’s not busy with work or family, she loves to read, bake, and garden.