Aliya with her dad Tim.
by Julie Plotkin
Around 6:30 p.m. on Sunday, January 23, Tim said excitedly: “Babe, you’re going into labor!” While I acknowledged that I hadn’t felt very well all day, I was reluctant to admit that the lower back pain and mild cramps I’d been feeling were really the onset of labor (although I was holding some pressure points which help to induce labor just in case). Tim and I were so ready to have this baby—our boxes of “homebirth supplies” had been sitting in our spare bedroom for weeks now. The last thing I wanted was to falsely raise our expectations and hopes that yes, today might actually be the day.
However, as the cramps intensified, I finally had to admit that perhaps labor was actually starting. We started to time the contractions around 7 p.m., at which time they were still relatively mild and very erratic, while continuing to hold pressure points. The next hour or so was spent setting up the birthing tub and futon on our living room floor, and making some phone calls to family members to tell them that my labor had begun. By 9 p.m., it was apparent that labor was progressing, not slowing down, and we decided to phone our midwife and give her a “heads up” that we were in the early stages of labor and would probably be calling her sometime in the night. She spoke with me for quite a while, asking about the intensity of the contractions, and whether or not I thought she should come over immediately. Having never before experienced labor pains, I had no point of reference for judging the severity of the contractions. Susie was hoping that a contraction would come over me while we were on the phone so that she could gauge its intensity according to how I dealt with it, but no such luck. She and Tim then decided that she would make some phone calls, pack her stuff, and drop by to “check in” in about an hour.
I’m not sure what changed after that phone call, but things started to intensify dramatically after I hung up. The contractions started to rush over me stronger and stronger, leaving me unable to speak during them, and making it hard to stay grounded and calm between them. By 10:20 p.m., Susie had not yet arrived, so Tim phoned her again to say, “If you’re not on your way already, you’d better get over here soon—Julie is definitely in active labor now!” She was just around the corner.
From Susie’s arrival at 10:30 p.m., the labor progressed quickly and fiercely, without any complications. I remember not wanting anyone to touch me or speak to me during contractions. I was in my own private world of intensity—riding the waves of the contractions by toning and swaying my hips from side to side. I know that at one point I had the thought, If this is only the beginning, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it to the end. Luckily, when Susie checked my dilation at around 11 p.m., I was already approximately seven centimeters. I was hot and cold at the same time, panting during contractions and trying to rest in between, not wanting Tim to touch me, but not letting him move more than a foot away from me either. As I paced the hallway, I felt like a caged animal in a very primal state.
Suddenly, I felt like pushing. It was 1 a.m. Tim started to fill the birthing pool, and Susie told me I’d better get on the mattress in the meantime. I happened to glance up at the pool and suddenly realized that I did not want to push in the pool as it had soft sides and I knew I wanted to be better supported. So Tim started to fill the bathtub instead. He then came and knelt on all fours in front of me to create a table with his back that I draped myself over. At some point, Leslie, the second midwife, arrived, but her presence was pretty insignificant to me at the time. Pushing was hard—really hard—much harder than riding the waves of the contractions.
Susie decided to cut open my water bag, as it had not yet broken, to help create less resistance while pushing. When the water gushed out onto the mattress, she noticed some meconium* in it, which made having a waterbirth impossible—she needed to suction the baby’s lungs and nose as soon as its head emerged from my body. Disappointed as I was, I didn’t really have time to dwell on this, because the contractions were coming on hard and fast. The feeling of needing to “bear down” was so overpowering that I ended each contraction with my chest and arms on the floor, and butt sticking up in the air. That continued for what felt like ages, but the baby did not seem to be moving much. Susie kept saying, “One more strong push, Julie.” I remember thinking My God, I’m pushing as hard as I can—she wants me to push harder? Susie then had me try putting one foot flat on the floor, with my knee bent at a ninety-degree angle to try to keep me more upright and allow gravity to assist me. After several more contractions and pushes, the baby still was not moving.
Finally, Susie suggested that I change positions. She told me to lie on my side and have Tim hold up my leg. This sounded like a nightmare to me, but I assumed she knew better than I did. Begrudgingly, I rolled onto my side, and had to help Tim hold my leg in the air (while conscious of the fact that this was far from the waterbirth I had envisioned!). Finally the baby started to move. Susie grew excited as she told me she could see its head, but couldn’t yet discern the hair color—as if I cared about the color of the baby’s hair. At that point, I could only think of one thing: getting the baby OUT! After what felt like another eternity, Susie told me to switch sides. My God, move again? By this point I was getting pretty tired, and wondered how much longer I would have to endure. I was pushing with every ounce of strength I had, panting in between each push just to catch my breath. I remember actually being able to feel the baby moving through the birth canal, and I kept thinking, Can’t Susie just reach in there and pull the baby out? Eventually, Susie told me that the next push would probably get the head out. This was motivation. I pushed as hard as I could, and she said, “OK, Julie, hold it right there and pant—the head is out and I’m going to suction it now.” What a strange feeling it was to know that the head of my baby was sticking out of my vagina, while feeling the rest of the body still inside me. A few more pushes and the shoulders came out, revealing why I had such a hard time pushing: Aliya had her right arm across her neck and her hand up beside her face. This made the distance across her head wider, creating less space in the birth canal. However, once the shoulders were out, the rest of the body slid out easily.
So, at 2:15 a.m. (after only one and a quarter hours of pushing, although it felt like an eternity), on Monday, January 24, Aliya Jean Plotkin Howard was born on our living room floor (without tearing me at all, I might add). I don’t think I can describe the enormous feeling of relief and exhaustion I felt once the baby was out. I wasn’t even actually very interested in the little being I had just pushed into the world. After asking if everything was OK with the baby (which Tim had informed me was a girl), I rolled over onto my side, and basically went into shock. I was cold and shivering, and literally exhausted. This was the only point in the entire labor and delivery at which Tim and I wished there had been someone else there to assist. While Susie and Leslie were busy with paperwork, and trying to get me to expel the placenta, Tim was holding the wee one, and I was shivering on the floor. Finally someone put a blanket on me and brought me some tea, encouraging me to hold the baby and try to get her on my breast. All I wanted to do was have a hot shower.
The next few hours went by in a blur. The “baby check” was done (yup, all ten fingers and toes intact). Susie left to attend another birth, we telephoned my parents to let them know they were now proud grandparents, and Leslie (finally) helped me into the shower. We then settled into bed (after I inhaled some snacks to get my blood sugar levels back up) with our new baby girl— who remained unnamed for the first three days of her life. Leslie left us around 4:30 a.m., reveling in the miracle of life and birth, gazing at the perfect little being who had just issued forth from my body. The journey had just begun.
Aliya with her dad Tim.
Welcome Aliya Jean Plotkin!
Julie lives in Robert’s Creek. She is an elementary school teacher, registered Jin Shin Do® Acupressure practitioner, and dance instructor. Her husband Tim is a lawyer practicing Aboriginal and environmental law.
* Meconium is the earliest feces of a newborn