THE BIRTH
With every contraction, I buried my face in the pillow I had asked Ryan for and made the loudest, wildest, most full-bodied guttural sounds that have ever emerged from my throat. I did not recognize myself, but I loved myself. I was happy to meet the Kaitlin that had been waiting so patiently within my bones and muscles. I welcomed her with open arms, and we became one. The sounds continued to pour forth and I moved my body relentlessly in ways I could not picture, but felt intuitively to be necessary. With every 10-second break I removed an item of clothing and took a deep, focused breath of air. I was in it, and I was deeply connected to my baby and my purpose. As the contractions would build, I would dive back down to the ground, my face in the pillow, my chest and arms pressed against the ground, my bottom half sometimes up in the air with knees on the ground, sometimes in more of a downward dog position. Whatever my body wanted to do I allowed it to do. I followed its lead, for I trusted that it was guiding Metzli into the portal. In fact, Metzli was all that I could think about.
With all of my clothing removed and my long wild hair pulled into a bun so that I could focus, I remember moving my body in circles and chanting her name: “Oh Metzli, Metzli, Metzli... Oh Metzli, Metzli, Metzli.” I spoke with such focused sincerity, and I remember Ryan joining in at one point as well. I screamed, “I want her out!” to let it be known that yes, this is what I wanted, and this is what I am here to do.
The more Metzli descended, the more I was ready for her to emerge. The urge to push was like a necessary function. If I didn’t push, the force of the contractions could be felt in my lungs and chest more than my pelvis and portal - a sensation that carried carried the energy of resistance, which I absolutely did not resonate with. Perhaps this is because I have a short torso, perhaps it was because of how Metzli was positioned. Either way the answer to the question presented by my body was to push downward with all of my power. It was as though my body was asking, “Can I actually do this?” Each push was an emphatic, “Yes, you can.” I also felt very supported by a maternal, wise energy that had surrounded my body. I have no doubts that this energy was another kind of an answer, an answer to my bedside prayer for help from my grandmothers and aunties.
When my eyes closed and I vocalized with each and every wave of pressure that pushed Metzli downward, I visualized a lava-like presence within me, waiting to erupt. Rather than feeling afraid of it or intimidated by it, I became one with it. I had the realization that what I was feeling was OF me. It was not outside of me doing anything to me, it was something being facilitated by my own body. No part of that scared me or made me want to leave this experience. I wanted to accept it as truth, and I wanted to assimilate this power into my being. In so doing, I knew I would birth my baby. I felt focused and determined, albeit no longer part of this three-dimensional world. I was evolving past the limits and boundaries I had lived within prior. I was doing the bravest thing imaginable. I was paving the way for Life.
Because I became so loud at this point (Ryan even somehow allowed himself to shush me so that I didn’t wake our older daughters, but quickly realized he shouldn’t shush a birthing woman), Lorelei, my then-seven-year-old firstborn, woke up. Throughout my pregnancy I envisioned what it might be like to have my daughters by my side as I worked to bring their sister forth. The agreement was that no matter what time it was we would make sure they were there to see her when she was born. Because everything moved so quickly, there wasn’t really space to think about whether or not I wanted to wake them so they could see birth in all its glory, or if I wanted to just call them in once Metzli had officially arrived. This didn’t bother me because I trusted the unfolding, and I knew that their witnessing would be facilitated in whichever way was best for them, for me and for birth.
Seeing Lorelei’s face straight ahead of me in the doorway moments before I birthed her sister was so perfect. To see my oldest daughter and experience together something we had been through once before, though numbed and muted, was powerful. I am glad that this was the moment she woke up. Before her arrival in the doorway, I noticed that there was something deeply sexual about birth when it was taking place in the presence of my husband and me only. His witnessing of me in my truest and most vulnerable, yet powerful, form did something that I can’t quite explain. It felt like we suddenly were able to see each other so clearly. I knew I was safe in his presence, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me or our children, and that he was also going to give me the space I needed to do what I needed to do. If our children were there in the room, his attention would have been pulled. I’m glad that they were peacefully sleeping as those few hours passed and Metzli descended to the point of crowning.
Lorelei said that when she heard my screaming she thought I was fighting with Ryan, (which says a lot about how the pregnancy went! - no shame, surprise pregnancies can take a toll on any sane person), so she came to see what was going on, saw me in labor, and then went to climb in bed with Isla and wait for Metzli to be here. I remember her looking at me and asking, “Mom, are you in labor?” and I told her "yes" as a contraction began and I started howling once again. She said she was going to get her sister and I told her to wait, but she didn’t hear me. I didn’t want to have to explain anything to them or answer any questions. I could feel Metzli and I on the very edge of birth, and I needed to be present in my body, not outside of it. Lorelei told me later that in that moment she decided she would rather wait in the other room with her sister, not be in the room with me in that state. I think she picked up on my needs and followed suit. The vision of them lying together snuggled close as their dad held space for me to labor in the other room sends shivers through my body. It is the epitome of being a family to me, and the epitome of being a child - pure wonder, inner knowing and a deep connection to life.
After Lorelei had left the doorway and I completed the contraction that had started, I told Ryan, who had been grabbing towels and underpads at my one-worded requests, to text my parents: “Girls are up. Baby is coming.” They had agreed to come over and watch the older two daughters during the active labor part of birth. I dove into the ground once again and Ryan ran behind me. He said he could see Metzli’s head starting to crown, and I sure as fuck could feel the burn of this, so I moved into a bed-leaning lunge and felt between my legs. It was her warm, wet, soft, squishy little head that I felt with my own hands. I remember what this did to my breathing. It was as though I was choking on the holiness of that connection - I held my breath so as not to change a thing. Feeling the top of my baby’s head while the rest of her body was still safe within my own was pure fucking magic, and I knew that I could birth her in minutes.
My vagina was so stretched and the burn of it was so intense that I was convinced I was tearing. I tried to feel the top of my yoni to see if it was in fact tearing. I couldn’t tell and there was no stopping what was happening and another contraction was coming on regardless, so I moved out of the lunge back to my hands and knees, and pushed with the strength of a hundred mothers to help Metzli’s head pass through. I didn’t push hard because she needed me to. I pushed her hard because that is how intense the moment felt; it was what was being called for. Ryan told me to keep pushing even though my contraction was over. He later said this is because Metzli’s face looked really squished and he was worried something was wrong. I tried to push as soon as he spoke these words but I was not contracting, so nothing happened. I then realized what he was probably seeing based on the many births I had seen, and was instantly reassured. Babies always look like they’re being choked by the birth canal when only their head has emerged. My intuition sensed perfection, and I allowed myself to pause and hold space with Metzli, for in just a matter of moments she would be in my arms. These were our last moments physically connected as one, and so I prepared my heart.
“You need to catch her,” I told Ryan. He readied his hands, and I stabilized my body on the ground.
The next contraction came and I pushed again. I felt her shoulders stretch me wide and then the intensity of it all released, some time around 11:47 p.m. Life force had moved through me to carry my daughter into her father’s hands. Ryan said there was a flood of amniotic fluid and blood as she flew out. We think that my waters released after she had engaged in the birth canal and therefore all of the fluid was held in like a dam until her body was completely released as well. Metzli contained all of that vibrant energy that moved her down and out of my body. I turned around, very conscious of the cord between my legs, and saw her wriggly, wet, bright pink body fully stretched out, and her wide open eyes staring up at the ceiling. I was in such awe of all that was happening that I couldn’t quite navigate the motions needed to get me up and over the cord so I could hold her to my chest. Within a few seconds, however, I did figure it out. Taking a lunge position again, I held her first away from me to tune into anything I might need to do to help her breathe. She looked pretty surprised and I could tell she was trying to breathe through her nose with slight difficulty (like, truly negligibly “slight” but noticeable to one looking closely). I wasn’t worried, but I sucked the fluid out of her nostrils just in case she needed me to. It tasted like the ocean.
Sneak peek of future Metzli, playing in the ocean.