Begin at the beginning. The beginning of Juniper’s birth story was not water breaking or pressure waves tightening. It was Rebeca listening intently to me. At 41 weeks and 3 days, I shared with her some of my past traumatic experiences. This was my first baby to make it this far, so I did not know what to expect from labor. Beyond that, my fears involved being left alone in a hospital and feeling out of control of my body. Rebeca listened patiently and compassionately. She talked through my options and answered my questions. By the end of our conversation, I felt, as I often do at WBWC, heard and safe.
At 41 weeks and 5 days, my husband and I headed back to the birth center for a midwife induction. That afternoon in the Blue Room, at Lydia’s expert direction, I swilled cohosh, bounced on the birthing ball, and pumped, for hours. Lydia bound my stomach, and she and Bonnie attended to us all afternoon. Still, the baby would not budge.
Before my husband and I could head home, a 20 minute NST test was needed. After a while of trying to track the always-moving baby, the results of the monitoring became concerning to Lydia and Bonnie. Joe and I were impatient to return home and did not immediately understand their concern.
When Joe had stepped out for a moment, Rebeca materialized in the Blue Room. She approached the bed, where I was hooked up to monitors. She gently told me that she knew the hopes I had had for a birth center birth, but that it was important that we go to the hospital for more monitoring and an induction. Rebeca understood how scary this news was to me. Just as before, she addressed my fears and answered my questions. She managed to be deeply comforting, even while speaking through a face mask.
Joe and I followed Rebeca to UNC Hospital. The nighttime drive through Chapel Hill was surreal. Once at the hospital, Rebeca led us through layers of security, temperature checks, and health screenings. We met with ob-gyns, who agreed with the midwives’ assessment. My husband, confused at the sudden change of plans, had questions, which Rebeca fielded with the same patience she had shown me. Ultimately, my husband was persuaded by my trust in Rebeca. He sensed that I would have followed her anywhere.
I was admitted to the hospital for a medical induction. Rebeca held my head while I underwent a COVID-19 nasal swab. She stayed with us while an IV was inserted in my arm (with the assistance of an ultrasound). And, she placed a Foley bulb, to dilate my cervix overnight. She continued fielding my questions, which I think got more difficult to answer as the night dragged on. What will labor feel like? Will I be okay? Can I do this?
To prepare for birth, I had been listening to Hypnobabies audio tracks for months. But Rebeca gave me my mantra, during one of her answers. My husband repeated it to me over and over the next day, during labor: Dive under it.
My husband and I spent a restless night, signing forms and trying to fall asleep. Early in the morning, Rebeca removed the Foley bulb, which meant I was dilated 3 centimeters. After that, my preference was not to know the dilation. Everyone honored my wish.
As Rebeca’s shift ended at 8 am, she told me that her friend Belinda was the incoming midwife, that one nurse (Helen) was a doula, and that the other nurse (Annemarie) had been a midwife in England. Rebeca left me feeling reassured that these were highly experienced birth professionals I could also trust.
At some point that morning, I was started on pitocin and began “diving under” early labor waves by going limp and focusing on breathing. I bounced on a ball and dropped in and out of conversations with Joe and the nurses. Birthing affirmations played on my headphones over and over. We thought my water had broken when I noticed some fluid.
Transformation (transition) was quick. I got shaky and emotional, but the tears came out of excitement that I was actually in labor. If this was transformation, then active labor was next, and I wasn’t going to be pregnant forever! (By 41 weeks and 6 days, a permanent pregnancy seemed possible.)
During active labor, I moved to the bed and continued changing positions. Belinda, Helen, and Annemarie all had good suggestions. I tried them all. Left side, right side, holding the headboard, tugging on a sheet wrapped over the bar, kneeling on all fours. Annemarie and Helen were a great help, maneuvering me to new positions. Since early labor, I had been moaning and vocalizing through the waves. Even though Belinda cautioned against expending too much energy on vocalizing, I don’t think I could stop. Sound had to come out.
Helen applied counterpressure to my back and hips. I will never forget how relieving her counterpressure was. She held me together. Among the many fears I held about the hospital was laboring without in-person support. Helen was a blessing.
When Belinda announced that I was at ten centimeters, I remember being charmed by the celebratory air in the room. It seemed that my team loved supporting birth. But we were not done. During active labor, I had thought: This is a lot of work, and I’m running out of energy, so I believe I have about 15 minutes worth of pushing in me. Ha!
Two hours of pushing later, it was 7 p.m., shift change time for the nurses. I remember feeling apologetic that this baby was so tardy that Helen and Annemarie would miss the finale.
The breaks between waves gave me just enough time to summon energy for the next set of pushes. Still, pushing became exhausting. Joe worked tirelessly to keep me hydrated, to cheer me on, to update family via phone, and to just be near me, as I had requested. Belinda was a force of quiet and calm power. She taught me how to push; she encouraged me to pursue the birth she knew I wanted; and she talked me through the process. Advice Belinda gave me will stay with me forever.
Joe later told me that my water broke in a spectacular fashion during pushing. Somehow, I have no memory of this. Sorry, Belinda! I finally pushed the baby out at 7:50 pm. Belinda enforced my request for immediate skin to skin and for delayed cord clamping. When the baby was placed on me, a warm sensation spread all over. The baby had pooped and made an even bigger mess of the bed than I had made. The baby wriggled and cried, and I just tried to hold on to her. Someone asked what her name was, and I asked Joe if she looked like a Juniper. We agreed that she did. Belinda looked up from her stitching (there had been tearing) and shared that she had recently been crafting with juniper plants. Serendipity.
The next morning, Jessica showed us how to swaddle our squirming baby. Since birth, Juniper has been surprising everyone with how alert and active she is. I am deeply grateful to each of my midwives and nurses who cared for us at the birth center and the hospital. I felt empowered and lucky. Juniper’s birth was a joy.