by Jaya Damaru
April 16
Dustin’s day of coming into the world—wow! What an unforgettable day that was. I had been feeling contractions for two weeks, but only one at a time. Then on Sunday the sixteenth at 6 a.m., the contractions came every half hour until 8 a.m. I wasn’t sure if it was happening or not, so I got up out of bed. I couldn’t sleep with all the excitement, so I cleaned the house, did the dishes, folded clothes, and gardened. By 9 a.m., the contractions were ten minutes apart. No pain, just pressure. I woke your father and decided to go to the hospital—thanking God it was Sunday because it was your father’s only day off. I was admitted into the hospital at 10 a.m. We stood at the front desk for half an hour, then the nurse came to take us upstairs. Mrs. Crouder was the nurse’s name. I’ll never forget that, because I must have stared at her nametag for hours. Once upstairs, we sat in the waiting room because they had had two births earlier and had to clean in order for us to have a bed. Finally at 11 a.m., we had a birthing bed. I still wasn’t sure if labor was happening or not because the contractions slowed and my water hadn’t broken. Crouder checked my cervix. I was at one centimeter and there was a small amount of water. She strapped us to a machine—one part of it monitored your heart rate and the other part monitored the contractions. It was neat because I could see a contraction coming on the machine before I felt it, and your heart rate would speed up. The machine could tell if you were OK, and you were doing great. Your grandma came and your dad went home to change, eat, and get the camera. Auntie Stacey came by and then went to tell everyone you were coming. The hospital staff only let one person in the room at a time. At 1 p.m., hard labor began. I felt scared and alone. You were coming fast. The doctor gave me a shot of Demerol. I wish I could have dealt with it differently. I began to push, but that slowed things down because I wasn’t fully dilated. I had fear that I couldn’t do it and they gave me another shot of Demerol. At one point, I was alone and it felt very intense—then I began to focus on a white light that was on my forehead. This had never happened before but it gave me courage. Time seemed to be suspended, then the most incredible urge to push shot through me. There was no stopping either one of us. I bore down and made the most animalistic noises I had ever heard. Then there was nothing, as we both took a break. The nurse said, “No pushing, wait for the doctor.” They wheeled us into a sterile white bright room. The doctor gave me an episiotomy, without my knowing what that meant. Ten minutes later contractions began again and there was no pain. I’ve never worked so hard and felt so good. Pushing you out into this world was one of the most beautiful, wonderful, loving experiences I’ve ever known. I want whatever makes you happy. When you were born, the doctor passed you to the nurse. They spanked your bum, suctioned you, cleaned and wrapped you, and then I was able to hold you. We tried breastfeeding, but mainly we just looked into each other’s eyes. You were born at 5:16 p.m.
June 8
Today I gave birth—gave life—to my second child, Lakota. What an absolutely glorious day. My dreams of having a homebirth were realized in a matter of hours. I began contractions at 10:30 p.m. the night before. Contractions came every ten minutes until 12:30 a.m. When we noticed the mucus plug, your father, Laz, said, “Come back to bed and let’s have a baby.” Everything was calm and relaxed. We practiced breathing together, then set out things we might need for the birth. At 1:30 a.m., we called our mothers, our midwife, and our doula. As people arrived, I made tea, Laz did the dishes, and we all visited. There was my mother; Laz’s mother Bonnie and her partner Joe; Laz’s sister, Anna; Lidia, our midwife; and our doula Dominique. Dustin was asleep upstairs along with my best friend Shaman. At 3 a.m., I was fully dilated. Laz and I spent the next few hours lying on the bed talking, laughing, breathing, and hugging as the contractions increased in strength and grew closer together. Being at home made labor easy—hearing my family snoring in the next room, watching the room light up with morning sun, listening to the birds wake up, and seeing the hummingbirds come to the window to check things out. I moaned as the pain increased. Laz moaned too, as though he could feel everything. Ten minutes to five (4:50 a.m.), I become restless like a caged tiger. I didn’t know where to go or what to do (transition). On my hands and knees, I was filled with a new burst of energy. I was excited. The next hour of contractions I spent in Laz’s arms, putting my full weight on his shoulders and letting out deep screams of release. Our voices were tuned to each other and they sounded somehow magical. Lidia asked me to move to the bed and Laz sat behind me. A couple of pushes, and I felt a very intense pain. I had torn in three places and I stopped. At that point, I realized that it was time. I wanted to see this child NOW! No holding back—one more push with intense force, strength and courage. I felt the pressure on my bones and I felt your head about to be presented—this feeling of you so ready to be a part of the world. Aaaaaagh—the pressure disappeared and your head was out. Lidia checked you and cleaned you. Yes, one more push—slow and easy, oh—time is nowhere . . . I am one . . . you are here. Lidia placed you immediately on my belly. The cord was cut. Everyone breathed. I brought you to my breast and you suckled a bit. Your brother arrived to meet his new brother. It was 6:08 a.m.
My children are now older, yet still while rewriting their birth stories, the memories are as present as the day they were born. The birth of my first son and opening of my third eye marked the beginning of my spiritual journey. Although at the time, that was all new. My life, and how I perceived the world, changed. My hospital birth felt lonely, isolated, and sterile. With the lack of emotional support, I drew upon strength I didn’t know I had. And because of this, I was determined with my second birth to have my child in my own bed with my family present. This was a big decision because I lived and live remotely, yet I learned to trust my instincts and intuition. Having my family there was precious and created an environment where I could relax and feel safe. In the hospital, the unfamiliar environment and lack of family gave room for my fears and insecurity. Therefore, I was given drugs to cope. No drugs were used at my homebirth. The aftereffects of the drugs left Dustin and me in a daze and therefore breastfeeding was more difficult. Also, having a midwife with my second child, I felt more informed, and safer, and my partner and I shared much more of the birthing experience. The magic and power of being a woman giving birth is a great gift I shall never forget and that has given me more of myself in so many ways.
I have also attended two other births. One was a homebirth with a friend and her partner. Midwives arrived ten minutes before the baby was born. The other was a hospital birth with my sister. She was induced three weeks early due to a liver condition. At both births, I was truly amazed to watch women in their ultimate power and the natural instinct and wisdom that arise from our bodies. I understood from my own births when different stages of birthing appeared. It made sense to me that women need a woman’s support and guidance at this most precious time in our lives.
My first birth was entering the great unknown. The second time, I entered the unknown with more knowledge—but it will always be a great mystery of womanhood for me.
Jaya balances a life as a bodyworker, dancer, visual artist, and musician. She works at a local bakery and is a doula.