Green Options

Today my baby boy turns 1.  Of course, as his mama, I cannot believe he’s a year old. I still remember the gallons of Ben & Jerry’s that Daddy and I went through, the sciatica, the feet poking from the side of my belly, the worries of his pregnancy.

I’ve heard before that those who give birth naturally are just trying to make women feel more pain, when in reality we can all have painless births with the help of medicine. We don’t “have” to suffer. Really, the people who spout this nonsense are about as logical as Limbaugh.

I’ve had two quick natural labors with healthy little guys. The two pregnancies were so vastly different, however, that I’m lucky to have squeaked out Baby E without medical “help”.

Here is my birth story. Happy Birthday to Us.

Almost seven years ago, I gave birth to my daughter.  My pregnancy began with really bad “all day” sickness in the first trimester, where I would watch Dr. Zhivago between trips to the bathroom to puke. My second trimester was grand, as I was big enough to look pregnant and not just fat, and I felt really good. I had the glow. The third trimester was a challenge, as I gained 55 pounds overall and cried when I couldn’t squat long enough to plant my onions. Then, exactly on her due date, my daughter entered the world.

We live in a very remote region of Northern California.  Our closest hospital (that won’t do births) is an hour and half away.  Our midwives would not take the risk of a home birth at our off-the-grid homestead, nor did we feel entirely comfortable with the idea, so we decided rent a house in town for our birth.  A couple was going to Senegal for the summer, so it worked out perfectly that we could use their home for a month. It was about 15 minutes from the closest hospital, although no hospitals on the coast have an neo-natal intensive care unit.  I wanted a home birth, and this was the closest I could get to one.

Everyone feared I would go into labor in the mountains, so several days before my due date, we went to town to wait it out. I was restless and knew I would never go into labor in town, so we returned home.  I went for a long hike, and that night the real contractions began.  I was walking down our driveway as my husband pulled up, and I said, I think it is time to go.  My mother was here, but I feared her driving on the mountain roads, and we needed to take two cars for our dog to accompany us to town and fit everyone. So, I drove myself in labor two hours to the house we rented. My mother and I timed my contractions, but even though they were five minutes apart, I kept on driving (that’s how much I fear my mother’s driving!).