The Real Story of Espen's Birth

I had discovered the concept of orgasmic childbirth two years before getting pregnant.  It was through a book I reviewed on The Independent Author’s Review, a website I had started to provide a forum for critiquing independently published books.  The book was by a man named Dave Markowitz, whom I later became friends with and it briefly mentioned that childbirth need not be the horrific, painful, screaming exhibition that our society paints it to be.  I was fascinated at the thought of working with my body in such harmony that ecstacy was the result.  I became an instant convert; who wouldn’t be at least curious about painless childbirth?  That is where my intentional childbirth path began, though I had no specific plans to get pregnant at the time. I simply knew that if I did, it would be with an intention of empowerment and remembering-women have done this for thousands of years-it would be a rite of passage that I co-created with my partner and child. 

When Tobias and I discovered that we were indeed with child, I was pointed in a direction;  ecstatic, orgasmic childbirth.  I figured it was similar to the “Aim for the moon” saying…I might not hit the Oh Baby Button, but at least I’d be among the stars, so to speak. Nevermind the fact that stars are way further away than the moon. Perhaps space was really the aim.  To feel like I had an area carved out for me and this most powerful of bodily experiences, instead of being poked, prodded and monitored without thought to the spirituality and instinctual wisdom of bringing another life into the world through my body. 

The 41 weeks leading up to Espen’s birth were filled with reading, meditating, walking through Danish forests, Mexican jungles and American mountains.  It was extremely important to become comfortable and tuned into my body and walking through nature has always been one of my greatest meditative techniques.  Using my body and senses to maneuver through my surroundings gave me time and space to start conversing with Espen about my thoughts and dreams for his arrival. 

In conjunction with educating my body, I sought out and read titles like Unassisted Childbirth, Painless Childbirth, Ina Mae’s Guide To Childbirth, Home Birth, Orgasmic Childbirth and more.  Anything I could get my hands on to reprogram the societal messages of contraction, pain, fear and anxiety to that of expansion, natural, waves, profound, wisdom, and listening. 

Tobias and I shifted our language around childbirth to support the desired reality.  We talked about expansions or surges instead of contractions, practice surges instead of Braxton-hicks, birth instead of labour, sensation instead of pain.  I come from a background laced with earthy no-nonsense people, creatives, and religious worriers so my propensity for anxious thoughts, particularly around my physical self, is quite high.  I wanted to head things off at the pass so I could stay as calm and centered as possible during the actual birth.  The best way to do that for me was to set a course of what I DID want and stick to it, having the grace to accept the deviations that might occur along the way.

Pregnancy itself was low key.  I gained about 35-40 lbs, maintained normal blood pressure, occasionally felt woosy, but never threw up once…just napped a lot and had some health anxiety about my heart…it’s funny in hindsight how things you reject originally can find a place in your psyche if you have unhealed contracts with coping mechanisms like fear and control.  

Back in my mid-twenties, a cardiologist had told me that I would automatically be placed in a high risk category should I become pregnant and that they very possibly would need to deliver me at the beginning of the third tri-mester if my heart couldn’t tolerate the increased blood volume.  He also said nice things like, “You could have your Congestive Heart Failure relapse permanently.”  Despite the fact that I have had consistently normal echoes over the years AND the fact that I turned up my nose at his prediction, in the face of the unknown of pregnancy, I quickly recalled his dire prophecies despite the fact that I was healthy and showing normal in all of my tests.

Feeding the fire of fear was the last thing I wanted to do, so I opted for minimal testing during pregnancy and only had one blood test around seven months and blood pressure checks.  No ultrasounds, no amniocentisis, no continual poking and prodding.  Tobias and I compromised on who would be involved with the actual birth.  I was for going into the woods myself and having Espen and coming back with a new baby.  Tobias was for the traditional hospital and full compliment of staff on hand, though he was open to relaxing that. Our half-way point was to have a midwife who would be willing to be hands off and act as an accessible expert should we have questions or concerns during the birth itself.

Joy Jech of Blossom Midwifery was our perfect fit.  I had written to her while still in Denmark because I loved her website.  It was full of photos of pregnant women painted like flowers with babies inside and spoke of her own ecstatic birth.  “Yep,” I thought, “I want someone with me who has lived the dream.” 

We knew we wanted to give birth at home, on the farm in Oregon City.  I wanted to infuse that place with some positive energy that would permeate all the way down to its roots.  I wanted Espen to have a deep sense of being connected to the earth and elements right from the get go. After watching numerous videos about waterbirths, particularly during our Hypnobirthing class, we we sold on having a tub available during Espen’s birth.  Of course, we had no idea if he was to be a boy or a girl since we opted out of ultrasounds, we were going on the predictions of the Mayan shaman who had married us and our various acupuncturists and family members who were weighing in with their intuition. 

The tub was set up a week before birth began and we had a test run to see if our RV hose would be long enough to reach from the bathroom to the bedroom.  It did, so we just sealed around in the pool pretending to be mermaids for a good long while.  I didn’t know how much I would use the tub, I figured the Hypnobirthing would make me so peaceful I might not want to move.

Hypnobirthing was a technique I discovered in my research which allows you to self-hypnotize during the birth process and thereby relax and let the baby come down and out with minimal resistance.  I was keen because I wanted to be as gentle with my body and heart as possible and I knew that relaxation was key.   Thus, Tobias and I attended our classes and practiced our mantras, found our anchoring scents, and effleurage for weeks.  I think we could have implemented it even more if we had focused more intently but the work we did do came in very handy.

I painted a mandala a day or two before Espen’s birth.  It was exactly 9cm in diameter, the size of full dilation, to help me focus on the objective in a colorful and harmonious picture.  I wrote the words “Trust” “Body” “Open” and “Relax” on the four sides to hone my energy.

The day of the birth we cast my belly in plaster and frisked around in the unseasonably warm March sunshine.  We had gone on a walk and I had the feeling of opening, but that had been happening for a couple weeks…kind of like I’d been kicked in the groin, that dull ache that you know means something.

That’s how it all started, just longer and closer moments of the body compressing and pushing itself open.  There was nothing shocking or lightening like about it, just an inexorable movement that I knew was going to make a pathway for Espen to come topside.

As time progressed and the Waning Gibbous moon rose, exactly the opposite of his conception, I started locking into a deep awareness of my breathing…in through the nose, deeply, slowly, then out through the nose or mouth depending on the surge and its needs. 

The water was a wonderful sanctuary to live in during the progression.  Warmth and buoyancy let me develop a rhythm to meet the surges. Breathe in through the nose and drop the body down, exhale through the mouth and ride the wave back to the surface.  Amazing.  It was utterly undeniable.  I realize early that the choices were two fold.  Resist or surrender.  Either way, the outcome would be the same.  I was curious what surrender would yield as we westerners already hold a societal paradigm of resistance around birth.

During the whole process I was able to maintain a space in the corner of my brain where I could observe and marvel at the power of my body and Espen’s working together towards birth.  Marvel is the necessary word because nothing compares with the experience of giving birth.  If I had been drugged or surrounded by people and machines and noise, I would not have been able to witness birth so fully.  I felt like I was awake and THERE for the whole thing from start to finish, firmly in the seat of honor while The Bear made his way into the world.

I simply could not have imagined anything well enough to give me a visceral sense of how the body roars and stretches, how it continues and soars with a surety that is completely innate.  I could not have guessed how capable and calm my body would be while attending to its work. 

Espen and I communicated during the birth. I talked to him and told him that I absolutely agreed to being his mother and that it was good and safe for him to arrive.  He knew.  He kept advancing slowly and certainly, the midwife confirming that things were going well.  I wanted him to be born into a peaceful environment with no scary sounds of mom screaming bloody murder if I could help it.  Instead of yelling, I channeled the intensity into these deep earth mother sounds that felt like sound waves rolling out through the water carrying the surges to light.

Near the end, the surges seemed to be calming down a bit but we knew it had to be soon.  That was the only moment where I thought for a second, “Oh don’t stop! Let’s finish what we started!”  I had sung to Espen through surges, bounced on the exercise ball, stood in the shower, leaned over the bed and walked up and down the floor.  Every one was different and wanted to be greeted in its own unique way.  It was up to me to decide how to meet it.  The only time I failed to come up with a greeting was the only surge that got away from me and I understood how women can be shocked by the ferocity of birth.  It is a wild horse that knows how to run and buck and rely on pure instinct.  If you chose to run from it, you will be trampled.  If you meet it head on and let your body meld with it, you’ll find a way to ride it home.

Around the moments of bodily exhaustion and that breaking point of knowing how close you are to expiration, I reached down to see if anything was actually happening and I felt Espen’s hair.  His HAIR.  It didn’t occur to me until the midwife brought a mirror and I could see his dark mop just starting to peek out. All I could think was that we were touching on the outside as well as the inside.  We were as close and engaged physically as we ever could or would be again.  The awe completely possessed me, it does still when I remember the sense of being completely wrapped up and around another spirit. 

The next five surges almost felt incidental once I knew Espen was real and he was coming to stay.  Tobias was there every step of the way, rubbing my back, getting water, just letting me rest on him and staying incredibly present to my constantly shifting needs as I followed my body towards Espen’s birth. 

One aspect I do recall was in the final surges, my body felt as though it was stretching to the point of eruption.  Somewhere in my head the Johnny Cash song Ring of Fire was playing faintly and I had to giggle.  With another surge, he head came free and we all rested for a moment, all of us with eyes closed.  When his body followed on the next surge it was like heaving a huge sigh.  The endorphines are there making everything just flow.  It all seems so completely obvious. Take the baby in your hands, let it uncurl in the water, bring it up to your chest.  Stare.

Espen lay peacefully on my chest just breathing, pinking up from his lovely blueberry color and looking at us.  My body did this. Our bodies. Incredible. 

Sorry guys, I know birth has been made out to be a woman's curse and all, but it's a lie.  You've been lied to by a bunch of women who want to keep the utter power and magic of childbirth to themselves. Being fully conscious and aware during the whole ride from conception to birth was the most impressive thing I can imagine doing with my body and spirit and will.  There's just no way anything could be more possessing and complete for me and I'd imagine that any woman who has gone through the process, assisted or not, drugged or not, in the woods or the hospital can attest to the fact that it is unlike any other rite on earth. It is pure feminine awesomeness and absolute co-creation.