By: Jamie Thompson
My youngest child recently celebrated his fourth birthday. He is a vibrant bundle of energy—intelligent, affectionate, and, at times, quite the handful.
However, my experience during his pregnancy was anything but pleasant. I don’t just mean typical discomforts like swollen ankles or back pain; my body felt as if it was literally unraveling. At one point, I found myself crawling around my home to pick up toys, a necessity when confined to the sofa.
He was expected to arrive on March 24, which meant I would either be planting my garden on my hands and knees or with a newborn strapped to my back. From 14 weeks onward, I endured daily contractions, as my uterus acted like an unruly child.
The final week of my pregnancy felt like an extended labor. I faced contractions every eight to ten minutes—consistently persistent, sometimes close enough together to seem like real labor, but mostly just a source of frustration.
On March 26, amid a night filled with relentless contractions, my water broke. While it wasn’t a dramatic event, it was enough to require a change of clothes and sheets. Having already experienced what felt like an eternity of contractions, these post-water-break ones were just another phase of discomfort.
I woke my partner, Alex, and informed him of the situation, asking him to fill the birthing pool in our kitchen. I called my midwife, a remarkable 70-year-old woman with waist-length gray hair neatly tied in a bun. While I assured her that things were not progressing quickly, she promised to arrive in the early morning.
My doula arrived promptly, and I called my eldest daughter, Mia, who was 17 at the time, to watch my youngest, Lily, who was not yet two. I even baked a chocolate cake—because that’s just how I roll—and whipped up some buttercream frosting.
As the hours passed, nothing much changed. My midwife suggested tinctures of black and blue cohosh, which were as unpleasant as they sound. I nursed my 17-month-old to stimulate contractions (yes, I’m that committed), while my midwife made a quick trip to the store.
Suddenly, the room felt much smaller as I became increasingly aware of the people surrounding me. Afternoon turned to evening, with the birthing pool now encircled by those enjoying the chicken noodle soup I had prepared earlier.
Yet, my situation didn’t improve. There was more blood, more fluid, and more contractions, all while my baby seemed content to remain high above my pelvis. The evening wore on, and Alex tucked Lily into bed as chatter filled the house.
Approaching the 24-hour mark since my water had broken, I remained stuck at 7 to 8 centimeters, my baby still stubbornly high, and exhaustion was setting in. The anxiety I felt was compounded by a past experience of shoulder dystocia, which left me with lingering trauma.
After a brief shower with Alex, where he provided much-needed support, we took a moment to rest and reflect. Upon waking, we came to the difficult decision to leave the comfort of our home and head to the hospital.
It’s at this juncture that some may say, “Oh, thank goodness you transferred,” or “Isn’t a healthy baby what really matters?” But I want to emphasize that I cried while getting dressed, while packing my bag, and while saying goodbye to my children. I sobbed during the 25-minute drive to the hospital, through intake, and while donning the hospital gown and receiving an IV.
I was fortunate to have a supportive team of healthcare professionals advocating for my desire for a natural birth. My midwife stayed by my side for an additional seven hours, helping my stubborn son find his way. Despite my fortune, I continued to cry.
Though I didn’t require a C-section, and he was born healthy at over ten pounds with just two significant pushes, I still felt a profound sense of loss. This wasn’t the birth experience I had envisioned. I had hoped for a serene moment, welcoming my child into the world in our kitchen, surrounded by family, with cake and champagne to celebrate.
I do not wish to hear, “Well, at least he’s healthy.”
For further insights into home insemination options, consider exploring the impregnator at home insemination kit. Additionally, if you’re looking for ways to boost fertility, check out this fertility booster for men. For a comprehensive understanding of pregnancy week by week, the March of Dimes offers excellent resources.
In summary, the experience of giving birth to a healthy child can still be accompanied by feelings of loss and disappointment. It’s essential to acknowledge the emotional journey, even when the outcome is positive.
Keyphrase: Birth experience and emotional loss
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]