the birth story of Ari // a peaceful waterbirth

From Georgia: If you’ve checked out my new business website you might have seen the photographs of Ari’s birth. I had the honour of being present to document the peaceful waterbirth of little Ari Elliot. Today I have the honour of sharing with you the birth story of Ari, beautifully written by his mama Bianca. I hope you enjoy reading the story of his birth and are as touched as I am by Bianca’s story and her inspiring grace and strength bringing forth her third baby, Ari Elliott. 

My midwife warned me that third births are often stop start. And sure enough I had about 4 or 5 false starts in the weeks leading up to Ari’s birth. It was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting. On Saturday August 20^th I had another 2 hours of contractions in the wee hours of the morning.  When I woke I found my underwear damp, and smelled the distinct scent of amniotic fluid. When I smelt this scent at the breaking of my daughter’s waters, (hours before her labour began), my stomach flip flopped with excitement. The memory of my first born son, warm, soft, floppy and drenched in the foreign scent, had rushed to mind. But this time, the smell sent a screech of silent panic through me – labour, again. I had already been through 2 natural births, and the 2 and a half weeks of false labour had more than reacquainted me with the somewhat lost memory of contraction pain – I remembered clearly how hot and sharp they were now, and I felt afraid.

I got up and started moving around, hoping that this time would be for real. I made a cup of raspberry leaf tea and stood sipping it at the kitchen counter, timing contractions. To my utter disappointment they petered out. I was 7 days overdue and utterly discouraged. I called my midwife and decided to just head back to bed to rest, see how the day panned out, and call her back later in the day. It must have been about 8:30am. After 2 hours of sleep I woke feeling less tired, but still had no contractions. I pottered around the house, trying to keep occupied. Eventually my husband and I decided to head into the Birth Centre and get things assessed. I needed a sense of action to keep from despairing as I felt I would never go into labour.

We dropped our 4 and 2 year olds off to my Mum, and arrived at the Birth Centre around 4pm.  My midwife told me, after checking, that my waters didn’t appear to have broken. I didn’t seem to be losing anymore fluid. She said I was already 4cms dilated and the baby 3 fifths engaged. At least all that pre-labour had been doing something! She then performed a stretch and sweep as I was desperate to establish contractions and finally end my pregnancy!As we were leaving I began to feel the familiar rumblings of early contractions. Walking was almost impossible as I was tender and so very heavy.  We drove in towards the city, rather than back towards home, as I didn’t fancy the thought of a long car ride in active labour if we had to get back to the Birth Centre.

We pulled up to a nice restaurant, me wearing a cheap, old, yellow sundress, over black pj pants (that I had pulled out of my hospital bag in the boot), finished off with a large, knitted, purple cardigan and thongs! I felt like the slobbiest person on the face of the Earth, as though my baby would pop out between my legs at any moment, but could only laugh about being in a fancy eating precinct in such a fashion. Before we got out of the car a big, hot contraction rushed through me and I yelped, “There is no way I am going to go eat dinner in that restaurant!” Caleb suggested we go to the Japanese restaurant across the way and grab sushi instead, nice and easy, ready in a hurry, should we need to leave in a hurry. I agreed reluctantly and waddled in.

For 45 minutes we sat eating our last meal together as parents of 2. I sipped green tea, dipped dumplings into sauce and sampled black sesame seed ice cream, all the while contracting. I rocked on my stool when needed, breathed through the waves and thought, ‘this is it’.  We got ready to head back to the Birth Centre. I waddled ever so slowly to the toilet, and while in there my contractions began to subside. They continued to get more sporadic as we took the drive back to the Centre. Instead of parking in the car park we pulled into a side street as my contractions were all but gone. I had no idea what to do. Was this labour? Or should we just bite the bullet and head home? “Maybe I need to walk?” I asked Caleb. So off we headed to a nearby park. When we arrived I realised walking round an empty city park in the dark of night was actually a pretty stupid idea, and so, at a loss, we headed to a nearby bar for coffee instead.

All the 20-somethings were dressed to the nines enjoying their glasses of wine and bottles of cold beer as I sat in my daggy ensemble and sipped my coffee. Caleb and I chatted and listened to Massive Attack and my contractions begin to regulate again. At one point I stood, swaying gently to the music, laughing at the predicament we were in. And once again, to my horror, as we walked to the car to drive back to the Centre they stalled, again.  It’s a strange thing to find your body seemingly unable to get into established labour. When Caleb asked me what I wanted to do I told him all I wanted was to set up at the Birth Centre. To wheel my hospital bag in knowing I would need it. To settle into a steamy, cleansing shower, get out of my hideous ensemble and wait for my baby to join us. But was there any point of heading in, when we could very soon be heading back out?

Caleb decided to call Nicole and explained that I had been having sporadic contractions for 2 hours but thought if I could settle into a room, they would establish. Though she was back at home she was happy to meet us in there.  So we drove towards the Birth Centre again.Once there it felt very necessary to take my shoes off; I wanted to feel the floor with my feet. I paced in the waiting room and waited for Nicole to arrive. I felt nervous as though I shouldn’t really be there but tried to just relax.  The contractions started to ease back into my body.  I texted various friends and family to keep them updated. And when Nicole arrived we entered Room 1, the same one we had laboured in with the birth of our first.

In there I was a little uncertain what to do. It was obvious, though she sat inconspicuously in the corner, that Nicole was observing me and the contractions. I didn’t want her to have driven all the way in unnecessarily. I decided to bounce gently on an exercise ball, facing Caleb while he read out loud to me, Bill Bryson’s Notes From a Small Island. We had Lior playing on the CD player and I could hear Nicole singing along gently to it; I liked that.  I stretched my arms over my head, took breaths in and out, rolled my head, stretched my neck and straightened my legs – trying to relax.After a while Nicole left the room, and I told Caleb I wanted a shower. And as anticipated the shower was divine. The pain greatly diminished by concentrating the hot water right at the site where it hurt, on my stomach and back, and I was able to really relax. The contractions finally started to develop a consistent pattern.

After the shower I felt like a new woman. I popped on my bra and found I didn’t know what to wear on the bottom half and so ended up wrapping one of the small, scratchy hospital towels around my waist. The contractions very quickly became strong and powerful but I was more than ready for them and greeted each one with a deep breath and relaxed swaying; movement and motion to help the baby progress through the body and out quickly – labour, finally, time to work. It must have been around 9:30pm at this point.

I stayed on my feet the whole time, aware that gravity can help shorten the length of a labour. There were times when I wanted to sit or lie, but instead I leaned over the edge of the bed and rested my forehead on the mattress, closing my eyes and taking rest.I had already decided beforehand that I wanted to include Caleb much more actively in this birth. With my other 2 births I had been really internal. I had focused inward in order to deal with the pain of contractions without medication and so hadn’t really drawn on him for his strength and support. I wanted to do it differently this time. And as this was more than likely our last baby, our last labour experience, I wanted us to really unite and cherish the moment.

 I spent most of the contractions standing facing towards Caleb. When one approached I would talk to him about what I felt I needed. At one point it was enough just to nuzzle my face into his neck as the pain soared inside me, him sitting on the edge of the bed. The smoothness and warmth of his neck was a divine distraction, as was the texture of his t-shirt.

Once the contractions got stronger and more overpowering I felt I needed him to stand, to be level with me. Leaning down into him wasn’t going to work anymore. We grasped hands and wrists, and I steadied myself against him, throwing my head back and riding out the pains as they continued to roll.

For the most part, I think I was rather silent. I was aware that it’s important to not tense as a new contraction approaches. It’s best to exhale, relax your body and allow the process to unfold, rather than tensing your muscles against it, which can actually hinder the process and make a labour longer and more painful. So with each new contraction I would breathe out, sway, roll my head back, groan, draw traces across the floor with my feet, rock and pull against Caleb’s weight – any movement to help keep my body supple and relenting to the process, in spite of the pain. It has surprised me at each of my births what a transcendent mind space I have entered; hormones are an amazing thing! Each time I have paced with such a sense of restlessness. Small things have become heightened, tiny sounds, the temperature in the room, the feel of lip balm on my lips. I was acutely aware of the patterned bumps in the lino, the feel of them bumping along the soles of my feet as I traced along the floor was fantastic, as were the coarse fibres in the hospital towel that I rung back and forth over the towel rack. These small things became so very large in my mind and concentrating on them was a diversion away from the pain.

Eventually I decided to get in the tub. I was longing to submerge in the hot water and was really interested to see how it would affect the pain. With my second birth, I had hopped in the tub with very little thought to the process and after the event couldn’t actually recall if it had helped with the pain or not. This time I sunk in slowly, and decided to recline up against the side, with Caleb facing me. I tipped my head over the back of the tub and again breathed in and out. The pain relief was instant and quite amazing! I went from writhing in extreme pain out on the lino, to reclining silently through the next 3 contractions or so, my whole body letting go. Labouring in the tub was so comforting.

I decided I would attempt to squat in between contractions to allow my pelvis to open up to its maximum, (2 extra centimetres are gained in that position!). And I also wanted to let baby’s head push down onto the cervix. As I hadn’t had any internals I didn’t know how dilated I was and wanted to aid the process by using the pressure from baby’s skull.As each contraction began I would slowly recline against the side of the tub. Caleb helped me up and down each time, his strength a fantastic aid. After a while I decided though I didn’t feel the urge to push I would start gently pushing to see what it produced. At first I did it silently. After a couple of silent pushes things began to happen, much to my surprise. 3 births and never once did I get the all consuming desire to bear down and push that everyone speaks of!

Once the pushing began in earnest, Nicole and Caleb started to communicate with me about the process. They told me it wouldn’t take long if I continued to push ‘like that’, which again surprised me.  After a little while they could see baby’s head and Nicole encouraged me to touch it. After waiting so very long, 41 weeks and 1 day, enduring 20 weeks of morning sickness, even being admitted into hospital for re-hydration due to the endless vomiting, after waiting and dreaming and trying to conjure up just who this little person could be, I finally felt him. He was so real, firm and so not me. So…other. The relationship I had with bubs while he was in utero was one based on his movements within me. I would feel him knead me from inside. I would feel him drag limbs from inside my skin and I would press my hand against my own skin in an attempt to get to him. But here he was, so individual and real, and almost out. It was a wonderful feeling that only encouraged me to continue working hard, and to not give in to the feelings of ‘isn’t this over yet?!’

With my other 2 births I had pushed with every single ounce of strength I had in me and then some. I had so desperately wanted each labour over but for some reason now, each time I bore down and prepared to absolutely let loose with the force behind the push, I felt I should hold back a bit. This happened again and again, until I decided to ask Nicole whether I should be pushing like crazy or just taking it slow. She said there was no harm in taking it slow, and so that’s what I continued to do.

A contraction would begin, I would prepare and push – feeling the intensity of bone, full, bearing down inside me, propelling slowly out, and then I would just sustain the push, instead of reaching a fevered peak. With my next push I would use less intensity, rather than more, taking it slowly, slowly.

When his head finally crowned, the feeling was just as I remembered, stretching so great and so vast it’s almost incomprehensible. I tried to simply endure the sensation, rather than feel threatened. I focused on the little person that was almost here, instead of the feeling, letting the stretching take place. Nicole said, ‘the perineum is peeling back over the head’, or something to that effect. She said it in the gentlest tone, her voice so comforting, and at once I knew it to be true. Even though it felt like a tearing, like something bad, something to escape, I knew my body was just doing what it was created to do and all I had to do was trust and wait.

Once his head crowned (that most glorious of feelings) I had to wait for the next contraction to birth his body. And while half-birthed, he moved. It was the strangest of sensations, akin to a fish darting in the water. “He’s moving!” I yelped to Nicole. When she assured me he was just moving to get into the right position to be birthed with the next contraction, I knew she was right. I knew that babies turn so one shoulder and then the other can be birthed. And so I relaxed, and he turned that little bit more, and when the next contraction began I pushed him out into the water where he propelled and spun, all new limbs moving beneath the reflections on the water in torchlight.

Nicole unravelled the cord from around his neck, counting aloud, “1, 2, 3.” And I had wondered all along as he was growing inside me. And I had prayed silently time and time again that if the cord was around his neck it wouldn’t be a problem, that he would be delivered to me alright, that he would grow hidden and safe.

While I cradled his new body against mine, we worked at getting him to breathe deep, steady breaths. I rubbed his floppy back and smeared the vernix between my fingers and thumb. I am sure he was taking gentle, quiet breaths, his eyes closed, no crying. But as the cord had been around his neck Nicole wanted to see evidence of big steady breaths. So we kept rubbing and she told me to blow gently, and I did. I blew into his sweet little face, face with eyes closed and cheeks so soft. Eventually I decided to lift him slightly out of the water, so the cold air would touch his torso and encourage him to suck in deep breaths of air. And it did, and he began to roar.

The arrival of a new babe fresh into your arms, so warm and wet, so sweet and soft, has got to be one of the most divine experiences we get here on this Earth. I swear if it wasn’t for the endless months of painful pregnancy I would be tempted do it again and again, just to savour another moment when a new soul is handed to me and I get to meet them and love them for the first time. Their eyes bleary and dark, limbs floppy, the smell of amniotic fluid drenched all over their perfect little body.

Images of women screaming in pain and fear during labour is the most common portrayal of birth we see, usually in films or TV shows but birth doesn’t have to be terrifying. On my ‘quest’ for unmedicated, gentle births, I have searched out positive birth stories to bolster my nerves. I’ve read book after book to educate myself on the physiological process so as to understand what causes the pain and learn ways to help alleviate it. And consequently I have been able to enter into all 3 of my births with trust, trust both in the process and my body.

I remembered to look into Caleb’s eyes soon after Ari was born. I wanted to drink in the interaction between the 2 of us and savour the exchange, to file away the look on his face in my memory. He looked so proud, he made me feel proud. And he looked at Ari and I with such love.

 Ari Elliot

21st August 2011

12:08 am

8lbs 8oz

 (more birth photos here)