“Every birth requires a submission and a disciplining. The earth itself must undergo harrowing before it passively accepts the seed. In woman, the submission is not passive: it is sacrificial, consciously creative, and for this selflessness her whole nature has been formed.”
–Most Reverend Fulton J. Sheen
Photos by Maggie Witter Photography
The desert, God making a way, and the ark of the covenant have been themes that periodically show themselves to me and have for the past ten years. Around my thirty-eighth week of pregnancy, I had a vivid dream of two giant curtain panels, representing the veil being torn, and sensed the power of God, His place in this birth and our family’s story. I felt a nudge telling me this birth would be different, but okay. I was too fearful to indulge in seeking more through prayer and felt left with a trembling curiosity.
A cloud of fear that came and went visited me from time to time during this pregnancy. I had several, annoying intrusive thoughts like: Why should everything be well and normal when I’ve already had three, uncomplicated, unmedicated births? I’m due for something bad. Four healthy children is too good to be true.
As the end of my pregnancy stretched on I found myself feeling anxious on behalf of the baby, wondering if she was doing okay. A day before I turned forty weeks I asked my midwife Rebecca to book a scan for me. This is the standard of care at forty weeks if you’re not in labor, and it gave me immense peace of mind.
The time between that appointment and birth felt like a month. I did all the things: eating dates, curb walking, acupuncture, chiropractic care, and I even opted for multiple stretch and sweeps which I had declined in earlier pregnancies except for one during my first. I was starting to feel tired and was going to bed each night wondering “is this the night?” only to wake up with the sun, sometimes before, with a gigantic belly, hardly able to move.
At forty-one weeks I went into see Aly, my other midwife, and she reassured me that this, too, was normal. I could do nothing, opt for another stretch and sweep, and/or pursue an herbal induction with castor oil. I decided to do another sweep and took home the herbs needed for the induction. Around 2pm I started the induction series that’s essential two tablespoons of castor oil plus herbs which you take periodically on a schedule in addition to pumping. Seth sat upstairs with me for the kids’ quiet time while I got the process going. I rested for a while afterwards, feeling waves picking up but nothing too intense.
Around 7pm I went downstairs to tuck the boys into bed. Expecting our baby to already be here, my mom had planned and took Priscilla to our family reunion out of state, so she wasn’t home. At the time I was feeling sad about her and my mom missing the birth. As I was getting ready to head back upstairs my water broke. I let our midwives and birth photographer, Maggie, know. It felt so strange to call this “early,” as previously my midwives have arrived when I was in or past transition. They’ve always asked me to call earlier, so when they arrived around 7:30pm I was wanting a gold star for calling them before things got intense. My mom, aunt, and several cousins of mine Facetimed me and told me they were praying for me and this baby. I was immediately struck with a wave of emotion and had to gather my words before I hung up.
Seth started filling our tub, certain that baby was coming soon, since with the boys I delivered them mere minutes after my water breaking. With this labor and baby, though, I knew things weren’t going to go like they had and reassured him that my waves weren’t strong enough. My labor continued, but I could tell my waves weren’t as strong as they should be. My midwives suggested I pump again, and then finally that I take the rest of the castor oil. A thunderstorm moved in, waking Langston, so Seth brought him upstairs for a while. I ended up turning on Eve’s Bayou, and we watched the first half of it before I turned it off and put my tracks back on.
Typically, with birth I can stay ahead of my pain, relying on Hypnobabies, and recognizing the purpose to the process. I’m not sure if it was the induction, or baby’s position (later I learned she was slightly OP during labor, turning just before birth), but I started to really struggle with the pain as transition neared. I sat in the tub for a while, only to abruptly get out and throw up. The castor oil was making me sick and exhausting me, and all I wanted to do was lay down on the bed. I was feeling beyond tired, squeezing Seth’s hand through the pain, and feeling like this labor was getting ahead of me. At one point I was getting sick laying down and throwing up all over myself because I didn’t have a bowl. I was also so hot as our ac doesn’t often reach up into our bedroom.
In previous labors I haven’t been as aware of Seth’s presence, but this time I felt him nearer than ever. At one point we locked eyes, and I could see both compassion and some anxiety in his face as I got to a wilderness place during labor. It reminded me so much of when he had run Black Hills 100, coming up on the finish line. I felt cared for and held by him constantly during this intense process, proving to be one of the sweetest gifts of my life.
After I got cleaned up slightly my midwives told me they wanted to check and see where I was and either offer me rest or have me move around to get baby out. I just kept telling them how tired I was, and the last thing I wanted to do was move. They checked me and I was an eight. In that moment I felt briefly reassured that baby would be here soon. About ten minutes later I mustered all the strength I had and stood up. And then I could feel her moving down so I just started pushing. Holding onto the side of my bed I felt her head emerge with two pushes, her body next, and there she was—on the bed in front of me, covered in vernix, sucking on her thumb.
I felt completely out of it, totally disoriented, and couldn’t stop staring at her. It was a surreal, wild moment which I still can’t even seem to articulate well. I was relieved, but also struggling with so much after birth pain. I was able to get back on the bed and deliver my placenta. After birth there is always so much to be done, and I knew I had a few hours of “work” ahead of me and started crying because I was just so exhausted and in pain.
Seth held our baby and looked at me and said, “let’s name her Penelope Judith.” For a long time we had considered and planned on naming this baby Francesca Dagny, and calling her Fanny. At the end of my pregnancy, though, Priscilla had approached us with the name Penelope. I had a dear friend in grade school named Penelope who I adored, so when Seth suggested it I agreed right away. Our sweet Penny was here!
My memories of the time after that between her birth and when our midwives left are very hazy. With each of my births there are chunks of time I don’t recall, which is partly why I so value birth photography and have prioritized it with each baby. With this wilderness birth, I’m reflecting on how the work was hard, gritty, but that the pain has a worthwhile result and that hard doesn’t mean bad.
This was the birth that brought me to the end of myself, leaving me with just the Creator, and taking me to a depth I didn’t know existed. The other side of the chasm, the place I am in now, reminds me once again that beauty and goodness can come quickly and often does coexist with trial and Holy suffering. This was one of the most transformative experiences of my life, and in spite of the difficulty, I am so glad to have had our beautiful daughter at home, with people I knew, supported so well by my husband.
