a different kind of marathon

Some people train for and run marathons.*  I gave birth (the fourth time around) drug-free.

It was a decision I came to after much prayer, preparation, and experience with medicated births.  I am, in a way, reticent to bring it up, but compelled to do so today, the raven-haired lass's half birthday, both to preserve my memory of it and to serve as an encouragement to other mothers.

By divulging this, I'm not looking for adulation or trying to make any mother who gave birth medicated feel like she worked any less than I did to bring her child(ren) into the world.  I am not.  It's not meant to be a publicity maneuver.   I've thought about posting this story on each month-iversary since the raven-haired lass was born, but I'm still not sure I have the chutzpah to do it.   But here goes...

When I learned our fourth child was on the way, I thought long and hard about his or her birth and how I wanted it to transpire.  The fourth time around, I did *not* want an epidural with its attendant medical interventions and after-effects.  That was the jumping-off point for me reading The Birth Book by Dr. William Sears and his wife Martha, a nurse, and Dr. Robert Bradley's Husband-Coached Childbirth (he being the namesake of the Bradley Birth method), as well as reading accounts online of and conversing in real life with women who'd given birth drug-free.  I thought through the entire labor process, reconciling myself with the idea of "pain with a purpose," an idea that the pain of childbirth has a very real and noble purpose, *and* that it does have an end.   

I still hadn't decided to commit to a drug-free childbirth, however, because I just wasn't convinced I could handle it.  Of course I knew women had done so for the entire course of history, but I wasn't confident I was up to the mental and physical challenge.

As the day of my due date approached and then passed, the prospect of induction became more and more probable.  I knew I would likely not be up to the challenge of an induced labor without pain relief (as I reasoned here), so I'd already arranged to have an epidural if I needed it but could forego it as well at my discretion.

The night before I was scheduled to be induced, the contractions I'd been having for over a week finally organized into a consistent, progressive fashion.  By the time my beloved and I arrived at the hospital for our induction appointment, I was far enough along on my own to do without interventions.  I decided then to go for the drug-free birth.

I took it one contraction at a time.  During each one, I'd only allow myself to think about breathing in and out.  As the contractions each built in intensity, I focused on relaxing everything except that which was contracting, and visualized the contraction building like a wave, cresting, then dissipating.  I repeated to myself something I'd read in reference to the girl I knew undergoing treatment for a malignant brain tumor whose motto for the physical fitness classes she taught was "I can do anything for one minute." That's about the length of each contraction -- a minute or so.  Then I'd have a few minutes to regroup before the next one.  I prayed for God's mercy upon the pain I was experiencing, and tried to offer it to him for the sake of my unborn child.  My beloved was with me as I labored both at home and in the hospital.

I did reach a point, as I'd read I likely would, when I'd had enough.  I knew that meant it was nearly over, and I prayed even more fervently for mercy and a speedy (yet safe) delivery.  There were moments when I felt I was about to lose my cool, but with the help of my beloved, my obstetrician, and the nurses gathered 'round, I hung in there.

As soon as the lass made her entrance, it was just as I'd read and heard it would be.  The pain was gone.  In its place was jubilation.  I was so thrilled to meet our lass, to check her out from tip to toe.  I felt a rush of endorphins (though I was worn out!), and, more so than when I'd been medicated, I was able to soak up everything happening around me.  I bonded with the lass instantly, and my physical recovery was overall much speedier than from those births for which I'd had epidurals.  I was up and around not too long after she was born.

Every birth is a miracle -- and a tremendous accomplishment for the mother who brings to birth the child she has carried in her womb for ordinarily somewhere in the vicinity of 40 weeks.  Whatever the circumstances surrounding the birth of a child are, each child is a gift from God; each mother is given the grace of God to be that child's mother and bring it to birth; and each child is his or her own unique person to be treasured and respected as one of God's own children.

Having said all that, when an expectant mother considers the impending and inevitable birth of her child, she has a lot to think about and many choices to make as to how she wishes the miraculous event to transpire.  Babies will come on their own terms, so the plans a mother makes may very well go out the window should medical necessity warrant, but she should still make a plan for her baby's birth and prepare herself for it to both go according to plan or not.

Deciding to deliver our raven-haired lass drug-free was a long time coming for me.  I wasn't mentally prepared to undertake such a challenge until this pregnancy.  I know it was God's grace that provided the "mental toughness" (as my dad calls it) to see me through the experience.

Our darling clementine has been a jolly, peaceful little lass from the beginning, and I can't help but wonder if part of that is owing to the manner in which she made her entrance into this world.

Mothers are designed to bring their babies to birth naturally.  There are many factors influencing each delivery, and each woman is different.  I pray each expectant mother receives the attentive and skilled pre-natal care she and her unborn baby deserve.  May each pair be surrounded by the love and care of family, friends, and care givers, enabling them to bring about safe, healthy deliveries each and every time, in whatever setting and manner deemed best for that particular mother and child.

*As for running marathons -- not me, no thank you.  I could never do that.