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We were on our way home after a typical Saturday. The day had been filled with bookstores and college football. The only thing different with this particular Saturday is that undetected early labor had also been thrown into the mix. That night as we drove home after dropping off movies at the movie store, I felt a pop inside as I was coughing. I was a little alarmed, but said nothing to my husband since my due date was still almost three weeks away. When we got home, I carried my sleeping toddler in and laid her down. When I stood up I realized the inside of my pants leg was soaked and started wobbling to the bathroom. As I had suspected my water indeed had broken, and my husband was sent into a short-lived tizzy. Once all had calmed down and we realized the baby was coming then instead of giving us three weeks to get ready. My mom and dad came to help me clean house, run errands, and take my daughter in the middle of the night while my midwife and her assistant were en route.

My contractions started very quickly after my water broke. At first they were so mild I barely even noticed them. My doula had come to sit with me and it wasn’t too long before my midwife arrived. She checked my cervix and I was three centimeters. My contractions were coming every few minutes, but were very mild. We all knew the labor wasn’t stopping though, since my water had broken. I decided to take a warm bath while my husband cooked food for everyone. (Sidenote: husbands, do NOT try to fry food while your wife is in labor, she will not enjoy the experience!) During the bath, my contractions began to pick up.

The next few hours, I alternated between sitting on the birth ball, being in the bath, and sleeping. Yes, I said sleeping. I spent probably about 3 hours of my eleven and a half hour labor sleeping. Eventually, during one of the warm baths, I noticed a drastic change in my contractions. So much so, that I had to begin vocalizing through them. Since I was in the bathroom alone, it took me a few minutes to make my way out of the bathtub to tell the midwife I felt different. Upon checking me, she discovered I was 8 centimeters. Everyone set about moving everything to the living room since it looked like I would be birthing there, and soon after being checked I said I was feeling pressure.

I began to try some pushing in a sitting position with my feet propped up, simulating a squat. At the same time, transition hit pretty hard and I started throwing up. The pushing was painful in that position, so I stood up and hung off of my husband to push. When I was pushing I began to doubt myself. I questioned whether or not I could finish it. I realized though that I wasn’t doing it alone – we, my son and I, were doing it together. Pushing was really intense for me. So much so that I describe it as an out of body experience. I recall the sensations and exactly how it felt – but it was like I watched it all in third person. As he came out without tearing my body in any way my midwife guided him to the towel beneath me. Immediately I fell forward in a fog thinking to myself the whole thing seemed so surreal. I heard voices from what seemed like another room calling my son’s name telling him to wake up and I realized that my son was outside of my body and he needed me as much as ever. I called his name and with tears streaming turned over to pull him up to me. As soon as he heard my voice he began to wake up I held him close rubbing his back. Soon he was pink and beautiful.

Every time I look at him I recall that day – that moment. As a nursling, he would tell me in his way he needed nourishment and I would pull him close to me. From the second he was close to my breast he began to search for it. His little mouth would open up and he would take my nipple like it was the last time he would ever nurse again. He sucked hard and fast at first, then as his milk came to him it was slow and steady. Immediately his face softened and his body melted into mine. I could feel my entire body relax whether I was trying to or not. We’d lay there together - euphoric, content…my son and I. I could never imagine these days ending.

When my son was born I never knew have thought I would be so enthralled by him as I was. I had been a mother before; my daughter was almost three. When she was born I held her and looked at her and promised to always protect her and never abandon her. I felt the mother bear instinct soar in me and it has been that way with her ever since. With my son it was different though. He was like an extension of me. I felt completed by him – by his existence and his birth.

I hoped for almost three years after having my daughter that my second birth would heal me from my first. That I would forget being yelled at in my birth, that I would forget having my vagina cut open without my knowledge or consent only to be re-sewn painfully incorrect, that I would forget the feeling of loss and rape of control her birth had been. The contrast for me is dramatic. I struggled to feel attached to my daughter, only feeling incredibly protective came natural. Then there was my son. His pregnancy was even different for me. I felt so intuitive knowing when my body was changing and knowing him so well while he was inside. When labor started I was at peace. With each sensation I knew what was happening. People I knew thought I was crazy for choosing to give birth at home. After it happened they all asked me how it was. My response every time was – ‘It was wonderful. We did beautifully – worked so well together. It was amazing.’ I’m not sure they understood.

I have realized something. My son’s birth – my second – did heal me. No I did not forget my first birth…but I do not want to anymore. I have peace about it. I have realized that my daughter did not choose her birthing and she does not share my pain and resentment over it. She was not what was taken – her birth was. I will teach my daughter to teach her daughters to stand up for birth. It is truly the most important experience a woman will ever have. And it matters so much.