by Emily Malpass

     Before I started making lovely little people, I made lovely little pottery. Two years ago, at the height of optimism/naïveté when I was expecting my first child, I agreed to an exhibition just a month after she was born. I had a wonderful pregnancy and impeccable care from WBWC, took an in-depth birth class with my supportive, involved husband, hired a doula, wrote and rewrote our birth plan, ate my 100 grams of protein every day, did everything from yoga to perineal massage. In my mind, I was completely prepared for birth, doing everything “right.” So how did that labor go? One of my pieces from that exhibition tells the story best: it’s a fragile, unfired, handmade clay vessel with thin red sewing thread sewn around it like a crazed cocoon, stuffed with dryer lint and strips of my birth plan, which I had shredded.


     Yikes, I know. Don’t worry. I called the Birth Center when my days turned dark, and Nancy referred me to a therapist specializing with postpartum women (who has dealt with these issues herself). I also met with one of the WBWC midwives who attended our birth. She reviewed the events of my birth and why we had transferred to the hospital, listened compassionately to my concerns, and validated my physical and emotional state as appropriate to what I’d gone through. This extended support from WBWC was critical in my emotional healing process.  As my body eventually came (completely! miraculously!) back together from birth, my mind became clearer and my anxieties calmed. Then the longest shortest year ever had passed, and a few months later, we were expecting Ruby’s baby brother!




   This time, a trusted friend recommended Hypnobabies as a different way to prepare for birth, and I worked through the home course. I listened to the meditations and relaxation tracks during naps with my toddler, and played the affirmations aloud on my drive home from work and while I did housework or fiddled around in my clay studio at night. I immediately latched onto the mantra, “this is a new birth and a new baby, unique unto itself,” but I scoffed when I heard things like, “my body knows how to give birth, nice and easy.” One night several weeks into the daily affirmation practice, I had an “aha.” The body that was going to give birth to Sebastian was a totally different body than the one I had labored with before! I began to accept that perhaps this was true, that this kind of birth was possible for me. “I believe my baby’s birth will come quickly, quietly, and without complications.” I began to internalize these thoughts and clear my fears. I soaked up the time with my daughter while she was still the only child. I napped when I could, stocked the freezer and purged our closets, and thought back wistfully on the quiet simplicity of being pregnant the first time!


     The weeks tumbled along and I found myself getting the BPP and NST at 41 weeks just like before, eating fistfuls of dates and whole pineapples and climbing stairs and dousing myself with clary sage and hammering on my pressure points, trying everything short of castor oil. And there I was, getting my membranes swept (again) at 41 weeks and 5 days, hoping the next bout of contractions wouldn’t fade away like so many in the weeks before. I ate a huge lunch and sent Matt back to work after our uneventful appointment that day, then laid down in the guest room to “nap” with my two-year-old and my mom, who had been staying with us since a few days after I was due, just in case. I turned on the Hypnobabies relaxation music, and Ruby tumbled around and giggled and chatted, and my mom kept working on my acupressure points. I laid there trying not to pout, and some light contractions began around 2pm. I didn’t say anything and just ignored them, sure they’d just go away. My mom took Ruby out of the room to let me rest by myself, and soon I was getting restless. I moved to my own bed and started playing the Birthing Day Affirmations just for good measure, and the contractions didn’t relent. I started timing them and realized they were ten minutes apart exactly, lasting a full minute, and had been that way almost an hour! I texted my husband and he immediately replied, “I’M COMING HOME,” and I sent back, “ok, if you think so, no rush.” In my mind I was still thinking it would all just go away!


As soon as I’d hit send, the waves were 6 minutes apart, then 5, and I decided I’d better see if they went away (!) when I walked around. Um, no. I found my mom and Ruby snacking on the back porch; one of them knew exactly what was going on when she saw me, and the other was focused on her yogurt. Matt was home soon, and found me on my hands and knees with my head against the wall in the hallway! I told him not to rush, but that we’d probably better pack our cooler of food.  My mom asked if we had called the Birth Center! Whoops. Needless to say, we didn’t wait for the “ok” to pack up, since we live in North Raleigh and had a 40 minute drive ahead of us! My contractions never slowed while we were on our way, and around the exit for 15-501 I actually said out loud, in my “mom” voice, “Sebastian, you need to SETTLE DOWN. Mommy needs about twenty more minutes!” I vocalized loudly through my waves, gripped Matt’s arm, stared at a spot on the ceiling, and lamented the enormous car seat behind me for making me sit upright. It was about 4 PM when we pulled into WBWC. I had three contractions on my way into the building, and we were whisked into the peach room (where, before transferring to UNC, I had labored for 36 hours with Ruby two years before).


Maureen came into the room with Kristen, the student midwife who I’d met that morning during my sweep, and I hugged Maureen and shouted, “It’s really happening!” Someone asked me if I wanted music playing and I couldn’t even articulate an answer. I realize now that as soon as I was in my safe birthing place, my body got the message and the pace picked up like wildfire. My friend and doula Kacy arrived minutes after us and held me up when a contraction kept me from walking to the bed. Kristen checked me and I was at 7 cm, and I tried not to flail around while I was given the fastest ever dose of IV antibiotics due to being GBS+. Our nurse, Kerry, had to scramble all the way up onto the bed to reach me, and said “I feel like I’m in a pit crew!”


As soon as the IV was out, I was fully in transformation. I ping-ponged around on the bed, pushing my feet and head into the nearest person at each contraction. I can remember completely physically relying on every person in the room at some point, my body weight and grip and force being supported by each of them. I will never, ever forget the next contraction taking over my whole body, kneeling at the edge of the bed, trying to bury myself in my husband’s chest, thinking the words “I don’t know what to do!” but being totally unable to speak. Kacy and Matt prompted me to make low moans (what, was I screaming or something!?), and Maureen started to fill the tub. Then my loud caterwauling was suddenly replaced by near silence in the room as I curled over my belly and started to push. After birthing with an epidural the last time, I kept expecting someone to stop me, check me and tell me it was “okay to push!” but I just kept inching toward the tub in the minute or so between contractions, getting help from the whole birth team to go from all fours on the bath mat and get down fully into the water.


Just a few contractions later, Sebastian’s head was crowning, and I reached down to feel him coming Earthside. Kristen and Maureen swept him up and onto my chest and the tears and laughter and crying ensued! (I think Sebastian was the only one not doing all three!) I couldn’t believe how big he seemed, with his warm, wet, squishy cheek on my chest and his toes past my belly button. Sebastian Christopher Malpass was born on May 11, 2016 at 5:17 PM, 9 pounds 5.5 ounces, and 22 ¼ inches long. He arrived just over 3 hours after the start of my contractions. My mom brought Ruby to meet her baby brother just over an hour later, and Matt and I were carrying our (sleeping!) newborn son into our quiet house exactly 12 hours after my labor had begun.


Two months later, I’m still reeling when I think about this birth experience. In fact, I had a little trouble falling asleep whenever I would lay down in bed for the week or so after Sebastian was born; vivid moments from the birth would replay themselves, and I’d be filled with an excited, electrified feeling. The pace of everything was so quick, but never felt out of control. My birth team supported and attended to me, allowing for a totally mother-directed birth experience. This birth changed the way I think about myself and what is possible for me, and even the way I think about and remember Ruby’s birth. This is what Barbara Katz Rothman is talking about when she says, “Birth is not only about making babies. Birth is about making mothers–strong, competent, capable mothers who trust themselves and know their inner strength.” Ruby and Sebastian’s wildly different births tell one story: of me becoming the mother I am, and all of us becoming the family we are. I’ll never be able to thank WBWC enough for their role in every chapter of our story, and I hope every woman and family experiences this level of care as theirs unfolds.