Accepting the Unexpected

I prepared for my first birth (and am preparing for my second) with the help of Hypnobirthing, the Mongan Method.  Part of the practice “regimen” is listening to a 25-minute track of Marie Mongan reading birth affirmations–positive statements about birth–over and over again.  The idea of affirmations is that the more you hear something, the more you tend to believe it and the less resistance you have to its message.  Pregnant women are exposed to a plethora of negative messages about what their births will be like, and the positive affirmation track is there to counter that.

I suppose every woman has a few affirmations that speak to her more than the others.  For me, the crux of the collection was this:

I am prepared to calmly meet whatever turn my birthing may take.

I didn’t have a lot of expectations for my birth.  I wasn’t expecting it to be short or easy.  I kept an open mind about Mongan’s claim about birth not needing to be painful, and knew that I would deal with the birth beautifully whether it was painful or not.  But I really, really, really wanted my homebirth.  I was terrified of needing a hospital transfer.  I was terrified of needing a C-section.  I was terrified of letting go of my dream.

I am prepared to calmly meet whatever turn my birthing may take.

I just  couldn’t hear it enough.

But a few weeks before my birth, I came across a very unusual birth story.  It goes as follows.

Sivan was pregnant with her fourth child and preparing for a homebirth.  She was diagnosed with gestational diabetes in the middle of her pregnancy, but she did not let that worry her.  Her 39-week ultrasound estimated the baby’s size at an impressive 4.4 kg (9.7 lbs).  This did not bother her either; she knew how notorious ultrasounds are for being inaccurate.

But her midwife was concerned.  She took a good look at all the factors involved, and told her that with all the data she had, she did not feel safe accepting this birth at home, and with great sympathy told her that in her professional opinion, a C-section would be the safest course for this particular baby.

Sivan was shocked.  She trusted her midwife and knew that she would never recommend a planned C-section without a really good reason, but she couldn’t grasp the idea that her midwife would tell her such a thing.  What about the inaccuracy of ultrasounds?  What about the inaccuracy of the glucose tolerance test?  What about the idea that women’s bodies have been doing this for millenia and know how to birth big babies too?

Eventually she began to accept that her midwife was not just being over-cautious.  In the case of gestational diabetes, it is the shoulders of the baby that put on a lot of weight, and the risk of true shoulder dystocia in this case was too high to ignore.  She did not want to put her baby at risk.

But a C-section?  After all her hopes for a perfect homebirth?

Sivan described going to the beach and watching the waves and wanting to just give birth there, alone, trusting her body to do what it knew how to do, proving to everyone how wrong they were.  She cried for the loss of her dream birth, feeling helpless, hopeless and disempowered.

As she sat there, she got a call from her midwife.  “Just wanted to check in on you.  I know you will be okay.  You’re not the type of person who gets stuck in the past, I got that feeling from you long ago.  Just remember one thing: at the surgery, despite all the disappointment, you are still going to meet your baby.  Remember?  It’s a celebration!  Go in celebration!”

From that moment, something changed.

Sivan went home and informed the hospital that she would not be coming that day, but on Sunday.  And that her surgery would not be on Sunday, but on Tuesday.  Why?  Because that’s what she wanted.  She was taking this birth into her hands.  Who said a C-section couldn’t be an active birth?!

She and her husband arrived at the hospital like a pair of celebrities arriving for their premiere, all dressed up and full of joy.  They asked every staff member for his or her name and chatted with them.  Sivan insisted on sitting, not lying down, on the bed as she was wheeled into the OR.  As the surgeon prepared for the incision, she asked him to tell her exactly what he was doing.  She described the moments of joy as her son was born, and when he was brought to her from across the curtain and put next to her cheek; how she wriggled her arm out of the restraint and stroked him.  Her husband waited with the baby carrier, took the baby and never left his side as the operation was completed.  Sivan insisted on giving the surgeon a hug before she was wheeled to recovery.  Determined to recover and see her baby, as soon as she felt some sensation in her legs she tried to move them, and she expressed some colostrum to prepare her breasts for nursing.  She refused morphium for the pain and had them give her Ibuprofin instead.  The staff was in shock at her quick recovery and determination to function.  When her beautiful, 9.8-pound boy was finally brought to her, she didn’t wait even one minute before attaching him to her breast.  “Don’t you want to wait until we reach the ward?”  The orderly asked in amazement.  No.  Not a chance.

She turned one of the worst nightmares of any homebirther into a positive, happy experience.  A celebration.  After all, a birth is a birth.

I am prepared to calmly meet whatever turn my birthing may take.

After I read that story, something changed in me as well.  I realized that the lack of control I had over my birth did not mean I was helpless.  There is always a choice, and the choice is in your response to the situation you are in.  You can choose to see a C-section as a failure, a nightmare.  Or you can choose to see it as a birth; not what you wanted, not ideal, but a birth nonetheless.

Suddenly, I was able to let go.

And my birth was amazing.