Elijah's Birth Story
MARCH 15, 2021
The Birth of Elijah Paul
As told by Elijah’s Mom and The Birth Center client, Genevieve
I am only 23 years old, but I’ve talked to many women about their birth stories. However, it was actually fear that started my journey toward empowered birth. I was afraid of having a birth like my mom’s.
When my mother was 17 years old, she had her first child. During her labor, she was given unnecessary medication to stop her contractions at night until the doctor could get there in the morning. She was also forced to get an epidural, had a severe episiotomy and tearing, and then had to undergo multiple repair surgeries.
Since learning more about birth, I’ve realized that being afraid of one kind of birth is not going to get you the birth you desire. You have to know what you want, and I knew. I wanted an unmedicated birth with a trained midwife. When I first met with midwives, I wondered if I was too young to have this kind of birth. But when I talked with Ruth at The Birth Center, I knew it was possible. Here is my story.
Pregnancy
During the summer of 2020, I learned I was pregnant. Just a few weeks earlier, I had experienced a miscarriage, so I was surprised to conceive again so quickly. I was grieving a loss while simultaneously celebrating this new gift. In addition, there were some concerns with my health, including a history of endometriosis. I also have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), a rare condition that affects the body’s connective tissues.
About six weeks into pregnancy, I began having severe nausea called hyperemesis gravidarum (HG). Because I couldn’t stand up without vomiting, I mostly stayed in bed for several weeks. I lost 16 pounds and endured two trips to the hospital, where I got IVs and medication.
At about 13 weeks, I returned to my job as a ballet teacher in August. Because of the pandemic, I was teaching on Zoom. Although the medicine made me functional, it was still really difficult. I often felt faint, and my heart rate regularly rose to 160 — way too high for the little amount of movement I was doing. I made an appointment with a maternal-fetal medicine (MFM) specialist. During that appointment in November, they did genetic testing and ultrasounds. The baby looked great on the scans, and I thought, “I don’t feel well, but as long as the baby is healthy, I’m happy.”
In January, when I was already 35 weeks, I had a genetic consultation at the MFM specialist’s office. At that point, I was feeling much stronger, had lots of energy, and was very active. I thought I would be meeting with just one genetic counselor, but there were two counselors and an MFM doctor. They did not have any significant findings from the genetic testing, but they asked where I was planning to give birth. When I told them The Birth Center, there was a shift in the room.
They made me feel like I was making the wrong choice and cited possible risks with EDS, including that my body might not accept an epidural. I told them that I wasn’t going to have an epidural, and they just couldn’t accept that I could give birth without one. They also told me that my baby was likely too small because of the HG. When they did another ultrasound, however, they switched and said the baby was too big. They were strongly adamant that I would need to be induced by 39 weeks. To me, that didn’t feel right. I did not feel they understood what a certified nurse midwife and established birth center offer. I wanted to make choices that were best for my safety and the baby’s safety, but I also planned to fight for the birth I wanted. To be treated as though I couldn’t make those decisions for me and my baby left me feeling powerless and unsatisfied.
After a conversation with Ruth, I chose to get a second opinion from another MFM doctor. Ruth did not put any pressure on me to stay in her care or deliver at The Birth Center. I knew she wasn’t going to judge me, no matter what I decided. The specialist who provided the second opinion said there was no significant reason why I couldn’t have my baby at The Birth Center.
After that, the rest of my pregnancy was mostly calm. I could feel that the baby had descended into my pelvis and began having cervical mucus changes at 38 weeks. But then, the 39-week mark passed and so did my due date at 40 weeks. I knew that if I got to 42 weeks, I would have to be induced. I tried to remind myself that every baby is different, but I couldn’t help but feel like my body was failing me.
During that time, I really relied on Ruth to reassure me and keep a mental balance. She encouraged me not to stress and recommended all the things that might prompt labor to begin — acupuncture, homeopathy, walking, squatting, and having sex. Ruth also did cervical checks and membrane sweeps as well as a non-stress test and ultrasound to make sure the baby was doing well.
On Saturday, March 13, I had a breakdown. I started praying, “I don’t care how much it hurts. I don’t care if I tear. Please let this happen.” I was so emotional, thinking about how hard I had worked to get to that point and how supportive my husband had been. I’ve always been really passionate about birth, and I still might like to do birth work in the future. But on that day, I was discouraged. As I got closer to 42 weeks and a hospital induction scheduled for March 16 if I didn’t go into labor before then, I thought, “This might not work out.” I was trying to trust my body and trust Ruth. I asked her about castor oil, and she said to wait until Monday night.
Labor
I went to bed Saturday night and couldn’t sleep. When I woke up at 5 a.m. Sunday morning, something was different. I had been having Braxton Hicks and some crampy contractions for a while, but that morning they were stronger. At 6:45, I had a pretty good contraction. They kept coming about four to six minutes apart. I thought, “Maybe this is it,” so I took a shower and tried to relax. When the contractions continued, I texted Ruth at 9, but I let her know I was not in active labor yet.
I woke up my husband, Christian, and my mom. She made breakfast, and while we ate, the contractions started getting a little more intense. I think they noticed, but I didn’t want to say anything yet. We took a walk, and labor definitely picked up. When my mom asked me how I was feeling at about noon, I told her I might be in labor, but she had already figured that out. My husband overheard our conversation and asked, “Did you tell your mom before me?” But he knows I don’t like to tell people if I’m going through something.
Labor continued for the next few hours, and we decided to order pizza and chicken wings. I couldn’t eat pizza, but I ate chicken wings for protein. I decided to get into the bathtub, and that’s when things took a huge shift. I was trying to breathe through the contractions, but I hit a wall. I felt major panic. It was so painful. I lost it and started screaming. I didn’t want to scream during labor, but the fear overtook me. Now, looking back, I think this may have been when my water broke.
As the pain got out of hand, my mom reminded me to breathe and make low noises. I told her to shut up, but I’m so glad she said those things. My husband was amazing, although he felt so bad that he couldn’t fix the pain. Labor was strong and consistent, so Christian called Ruth at 4:30. She asked us to meet her at The Birth Center. I was so frazzled that I just grabbed something from the dirty laundry — a crop top and sweatpants. Before we left, I threw up all the chicken wings I had eaten.
On the way to The Birth Center, I was crabby. We got there about 5:30 p.m., and I tried to go to the bathroom. I was coping better, but I was still struggling mentally. There was so much fear, and I was pretty loud in the bathroom, moaning and groaning. Ruth told me, “You can make as much noise as you want, but it’s not going to help.” I thought, “If I’m not at least eight centimeters, I’m going to the hospital.” When Ruth checked me, I was only five and a half or six centimeters. I thought I would handle the pain better. I broke my back as a teenager and danced professionally on it for two years before getting treatment, so I had convinced myself that pain wasn’t going to be a big thing for me. Labor rattled me because of my pride.
I went into the birth room and sat on the ball. No one put any pressure on me to do anything, but as soon as I needed something, they were there. My husband gave me sips of apple juice and water and practiced support in the way I needed it. That feeling of being supported was amazing.
The doula, Amy, reminded me to stop running from the pain and encouraged me to lean into it. I knew the contractions were purposeful. They were my baby working his way to birth. Amy held me accountable to that. She also told me I didn’t have to passively sit through the contractions and suggested I labor in the shower for a while.
When I stood up from the ball, though, a contraction hit at the same time. I clenched every muscle in my body. I even squeezed my glutes. It was the most painful contraction of my whole labor. After tensing up like that, it really helped to be in the water of the shower. My husband sprayed my back and my belly as I squatted and swayed through the contractions. Every now and then, Ruth and Amy would check on me. It felt like I was in the shower for about 15 minutes, but Christian said it was about three hours. I got out of the shower, and when Ruth checked me again, I was nine and a half centimeters. There was a cervical lip, so Ruth recommended I lay on one side to help the baby turn and take away that lip.
Pushing and Birth
I was so uncomfortable and started to feel the urge to push. We had originally told my mom not to come in for the birth, so she was in the waiting area. But when it was time to have a baby, I wanted my mom. She came into the room about 9 p.m. I was on my back for a few pushes. After about 30-45 minutes, I could feel the baby’s head. It was shocking yet exciting to touch his hair. I said, “There’s really a baby there.”
I was really exhausted and having severe pain in the front of my hips. Ruth hadn’t seen that before. Later, we thought it was probably from my back surgery in 2015. I have screws that go through muscles that connect to the front of my hips, and I remember having that same pain when I woke up from back surgery. Ruth asked if I wanted to try sterile water injections in my back, so we did those. Amy said she couldn’t believe how I didn’t react at all. That made me feel tough and gave me a boost of confidence, which is so important in ballet culture.
Ruth and Amy suggested I take a break from pushing and sit in the rocking chair. They dimmed the lights, and I labored for a while there. I could hear rain coming down outside. It was such a helpful time to refocus. Amy taught me to blow through horse lips, which was such a great strategy. It was something I could do — something to focus on — to get through the contractions. It brought me back to the pain having a purpose and feeling more in control. I kept telling myself, “When I get through this contraction, I get a break.”
It was really hard on the rocking chair, and after a while, I couldn’t stop from pushing. I squatted down and pushed. Ruth massaged my cervix with Arnica to bring down the swelling and help the baby shift. It hurt and I hated it, but I reminded myself she was doing it to help me and my baby. Also, because I have strong muscles from dancing, I was engaging my legs with every contraction. When I did that, it pushed up on my pelvic floor, which was not good for labor. I had to start mentally picturing myself without legs every time I pushed. Amy gave me warm washcloths that are usually for the perineum, and I put them on my hips which gave me some relief. She was running back and forth, putting fresh ones in the Crockpot. She worked so hard to help me.
It took about an hour of pushing with feedback from Ruth to find the correct way to do it and I got that sense of where I needed to be. My goal had been to calmly breathe my baby out, but that was not in the cards. I was using everything I had to push. One of the ways I could tell when I was pushing well was feeling my baby’s foot press into my ribs.
I alternated between the birth stool, the bed, and sitting on the rocking chair then squatting during contractions. I walked between contractions and occasionally did figure eights and high knees. It was uncomfortable, but I rallied myself. I would say, “I can do this,” and the room would echo me: “Yes, you can do this.”
By now I had been pushing for four hours, the whole time thinking “just a few more and he’ll be out.” It was difficult and intense. I had been able to feel the baby’s head for so long; he was so low. I was on the birth stool, feeling a lot of pressure and control. However, Ruth thought I would tear less if I were on the bed. As I waddled like an old woman from the stool to the bed, I could feel his head there. I made it to the bed and got on my back. Christian supported my left leg, and I held my right. For what felt like 30-40 minutes of pushing, he was crowning. I was trying not to get discouraged as I felt that ring of fire and then him going back in between contractions. I felt so much of his head, but it still wasn’t enough.
During this time when I was crowning, Ruth applied warm cloths to my perineum between every contraction. She also massaged my perineum, helping it stretch and rubbing it with oil. Plus, she rubbed the baby's head with oil, and I think that really helped prevent tearing.
Right towards the end, my hip pain was so strong I couldn't tell when I was contracting. I would gear up to push and so would Ruth then I’d have to say false alarm. Finally, I couldn’t stop pushing. The urge was the strongest it had been and Amy had to really help me focus on my breath to stop pushing between contractions. With the next contraction, I gave two good pushes. Then, on the third push, his head finally came out. I could see his cone-shaped head full of dark hair. Ruth spun him a little bit and said I had to push. I couldn’t even really tell if I was pushing, but he came out with the cord around his neck. Ruth delivered him through it and put him right on my chest. I was in shock, flooded with relief and excitement.
Elijah Paul was born at 2:01 a.m. March 15, weighing 8 pounds, 14 ounces, and measuring 21 3/4 inches long. Having my husband there was the most amazing experience. He was so supportive of my birth goals and was with me throughout the whole journey. He was in shock, too, and stood there holding my leg looking down at us until someone in the room said, “You can let go now.”
Postpartum
I had quite a bit of bleeding afterward. We knew it was a risk with EDS, and Ruth and I had talked through what would happen if there was a hemorrhage. She had placed an IV at the beginning of labor, and she gave me some Pitocin after the birth. She was calm and thorough while delivering the placenta. There was an urgency, but it was not an emergency. Ruth’s competency and experience are amazing. I had no concerns because I knew Ruth was taking care of me.
I had a very tiny first-degree tear that did not need stitches. That felt like a huge victory because I knew that would help with my recovery. Christian, Elijah, and I relaxed on the bed for about 40 minutes. I was so excited to sit up and try breastfeeding. I’d had dreams that my baby came out and I was breastfeeding right away. With some coaching from Ruth, I was able to get Elijah to latch.
As we cuddled on the bed, I thought, “Is this real? Is this really him? I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe I did it.” Then, he pooped absolutely everywhere. We were all cracking up. It was like he announced himself: “Hello, here I am.” He was kicking his legs and moving his arms. He was so active throughout pregnancy, and it was a blessing that our baby was so healthy and strong when he was born. It was worth waiting for him to come when he was ready.
At about 6 a.m, we left The Birth Center, and I felt a little shaky after I had labored for 19 hours. As we walked outside, though, I looked up at the sky and thought, “This is a brand-new world. This is my new life as a mom. We’re a family of three.” It was the best breath of fresh air as I was leaving The Birth Center with my baby.
Reflections
I am so thankful I chose to give birth with Ruth at The Birth Center. I’m confident that if I had given birth at a hospital, a doctor would have suggested a C-section or, at the very least, an assisted vaginal delivery. It would have been hard in the moment to turn down an epidural, but I can’t imagine I could have pushed effectively with one. It took all of my physical strength and awareness to get him out. Since the EDS makes me a slow healer, I would’ve had a harder recovery if there had been more intervention. That would’ve made it harder to care for my baby.
People say all that matters is a healthy baby. Of course, I wanted my baby to be healthy, but it’s not all that matters. Maternal trauma is real, and we need to stop normalizing that women’s experiences don’t matter. Throughout pregnancy, labor, and birth, I was able to trust my body to take care of my baby. For me, that trust is rooted in the belief that I was created by God to do this. My baby told my body when it was time to be born and came at the time that was right for him.
Even though my labor was long, especially the pushing phase, there was no talk about transferring to the hospital. I knew Ruth wouldn’t suggest transferring unless there was a safety concern. She frequently checked my vitals and the baby’s heart rate, and everything was good. As long as the baby and I were healthy, I was ready to listen to Ruth and do the work of birthing my baby. I knew no one could do it for me, but Ruth and Amy helped me fight for the birth I wanted. It was so powerful to have such a strong sense of support in the birth room. I knew everyone was on my team, no matter what happened.
Finally, in the days after Elijah’s birth, I experienced huge feelings of failure and regret. I had hit more walls and struggled more than I expected or wanted to. I also remembered my birth as primarily me being loud and upset. I remember the few contractions that rattled me more clearly than the many I coped through. A few days later, I was watching Call the Midwife with my mom and my husband. During the episode, a birthing scene was completely silent while the mom pushed, and I remarked how unrealistic that was. However, they both told me that is exactly how my birth was — peaceful and calm. Talking over my birth story with them and now writing it has made me feel empowered and proud of what I accomplished. During labor, I promised I'd never let myself go through it again. Now just a few weeks postpartum, I'm already thinking about the things I’ll do a little differently next time. It was definitely harder than I expected, but it was so worth it.
For more information about our prenatal care and birth services at The Birth Center, visit https://www.sactobirth.com/prenatal andhttps://www.sactobirth.com/birth-services
#safebirth #sacramentobirthcenter #sacramentonursemidwives #sactobirth #birthcenterbirth