…And ah! less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl,
And never a flake
Their lustre can make
Of the vapor and gold and pearl
Can vie with the sweet young Eulalie’s most unregarded curl —
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless curl.
Now Doubt — now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shines bright and strong
Astarté within the sky,
And ever to it dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye —
And ever to it young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
– Edgar Allan Poe
Meet Eulalie. Lula, Lalie, Lou. Eulalie Willa Ludwikowski. Simply, our Eula. A lilting French rendition of a Greek name, Eulalie means eloquent. Sweetly spoken. It’s also the name of a Spanish saint and the title of the E. A. Poe poem the above excerpt is from. She was born a healthy 7.2 pounds at home after 12 hours of active labor on August, 15 2016 at 2:52 PM—on the day of the Feast of Assumption, the day in Catholicism on which the Queen of Heaven ascended. But in our case, a little girl descended. She entered the world the extraordinary ordinary way: in blood and sweat and tears to the rhythm of banging fists and the pitch of writhing screams. As I write this, she is a week old, an ancient being as far as I’m concerned. Our time, these precious liminal days, are slipping like so many cliché grains of sand right through my fingers, fingers which look more like my own mother’s now than ever.
A long home birth story & too many baby photos (thanks to Eric Peterson for the ones of her in my lap!) after the jump…
I’d planned a hospital birth with a doula & my OB, planned it in great detail so as to avoid every routine intervention we might face. We poured over research. Our birth plan was typed up, printed, and titled “birth preferences” so that the nursing staff wouldn’t misunderstand us and think we had the naive notion that birth was something you could “plan”. My desire was simple. No medically unnecessary interventions, no drugs, no IVs. Just me, my body, and birth. The hospital was a mere contingency plan. I felt I’d be safer there. It took me all the way to two weeks before the birth for it to hit me full force that everything I hoped my birth would be was against the hospital grain. I realized that the experience I was comfortable with, the place I’d feel safe, was not there. It was home.
The hospital would have been, for me, an experience of swimming upstream, and birth is upstream enough without trying to navigate hospital politics and policy. So I called our doula and asked for a short list of midwives. Within 48 hours I’d decided to have a home birth, something I never thought I’d do.
I had no identity or pride wrapped up in how I would birth. Her life & mine were the only bottom line, the only non-negotiable. I was always very willing to meet myself wherever I ended up. I set the intention of a natural birth but gave myself the grace to recognize the limits of my own body and use pain medication if that’s what I needed. In the end, it wasn’t ideology or identity that made me choose home. I was just less afraid of it, pain and all. I felt my baby & I, in our very particular to us situation, were safer not just physically but also emotionally at home so long as there was an excellent transfer plan in the event of an unlikely emergency. I also was comforted by the idea of taking pain medication off the table. I didn’t want to be in a battle of wills with myself. Rather, I just wanted to accept the reality of the pain, no matter how bleak it felt at the time. Though I held on to a hope that it wouldn’t be so rough. I knew different women experienced very different levels of pain, so maybe I’d be fortunate.
The statistics were on my side. I’m young(ish) at 33. Low risk. Ideal pregnancy. And, very importantly for a decision like this, I live in an area with excellent midwives. That isn’t the case everywhere in our country and had I not had access to that care, I likely wouldn’t have made the same decision. I also live 5 minutes from the hospital. Could something happen? Of course. Something could happen every day, and “somethings” happen in hospitals too. There is no such thing as a risk free life, no matter how risk averse you are. That said, I gathered that there was no significant statistical risk to our decision given our specific context (healthy mom, uncomplicated pregnancy, excellent midwifery care, and great transfer plan and proximity to a hospital), and so, with that, the decision was made.
And now is the part where I talk about the birth. If you’re pregnant and avoiding birth stories, now is the time to stop reading. Or if you simply don’t want to read that sort of thing. I’m going to be honest about my experience. But please remember this is only my experience. The range of possibility is so, so very wide. I don’t want anyone to walk away thinking this “is what’s it’s like”. It’s just what it was like for me—both the good and difficult.
I went into early labor on Sunday night. I awoke to stomach cramps, which I ignored. I didn’t assume it was labor. The next day the cramps continued. Regular intervals. Contractions. I realized I was having contractions, the thing I’d wondered so much about. It was exciting, which is hilarious considering what they would become. Matt & I took a long bath together, went to the grocery store, walked around down town, timed contractions eagerly. I knew early labor could last for days, so I kept telling myself she likely wouldn’t come any time soon. The anticipation was palpable, despite my having no real concept of what, exactly, I was anticipating.
That day remains etched in my mind—in retrospect it was a golden fog, a nether world between our life before and the one we inhabit now. We were already on our way here, even if we didn’t fully register it yet. It was such a peaceful day with a quiet hum of excitement. We had fun. I cry thinking about it. It was just us for the last time.
When we went to bed Sunday night, and the contractions picked up. There was no bloody show, no water breaking. But they became more and more intense until, at 3 AM Monday morning, I wasn’t able to speak through them and found myself crying out in pain instead. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t call the midwife & doula far too soon and have them rush to my house only to go home. No good reason I promised myself that. I just have an innate tendency to want to “do it right” even in situations where there is no right way to do it other than just doing it (i.e. childbirth). Personality flaw.
From what I’d heard, when it was time, I would be in another place. A birthing trance. The pain, hormones, instinct…something would send me away. So I waited for that. I got in the bath. I couldn’t text or speak on the phone any longer, so I had Matt interface with the midwife & doula. When the midwife text us “no doubt, we’re having a baby today”, it began to sink in. This thing had momentum. I was powerless to stop it. It was a tsunami. There was no turning back. And so I labored through the night. It was a blur of pain as I dilated to 7 cm by morning. At some point after sunrise, once the doula was there, the bloody show happened. It was such a relief. We were getting somewhere.
For me, contractions were a surreal landscape of pain I couldn’t have previously imagined. And I’ve known some pretty intense physical pain. From what I hear, that isn’t so for everyone. It’s always different. But for me, I felt like I was being tortured. Game of Thrones style. I felt like someone was holding me down and carving my insides out. Time disappeared. Self-awareness along with it. All I knew was the pain, and it seemed to have no beginning or end. It was worst when I was lying down, better when I was standing & leaning over, and best with my husband holding me in the shower. While still excruciating, the shower was a godsend. Being able to get up and move around and go from shower to bath to bed and back again was one of the biggest factors in my being able to endure my labor pains naturally. If I’d been confined to bed, I don’t know if I would have been able.
I would try to relax into each wave, succeed for 2 or 3 contractions, and then another wave would hit and I’d be back to screaming, tears streaming down my face. By the time transition hit, I couldn’t cry anymore. I could barely “scream right”. Low, guttural moans help you relax. The higher pitched screaming I was doing, not as much. But each time I’d try to moan, I’d feel like I was going to throw up.
The entire time, from the giddy first contractions to the writhing last, my husband was by my side. He never left me. He held me in the shower. Held me wherever it was I happen to be doubled over and near collapsing. Rubbed my back. Never stopped encouraging me. Cried with me watching my pain. Stayed awake for every second of it. Applied counter pressure to my back when her descent was killing me. I was so far gone he was like a loving ghost abiding in my periphery, warm arms and gentle touch and kind words disembodied but there. I couldn’t have done it without him. He was my constant comfort even in that searing pain. My heart swells up when I think about it. Another thing that makes me cry. I cry a lot these days. I mean a lot. For me, pregnancy hormones have nothing on postpartum hormones.
I’d always heard you’d feel an uncontrollable urge to push. But for me that never seemed to come. I was pushing simply to alleviate the pain, and at some point my water broke. I felt more relief. I took it as a sign that everything was moving along, that this wouldn’t be interminable. I had the midwife check me. I was fully dilated but there was a small cervical lip that stubbornly wouldn’t recede. I very likely could have ended up being labeled “failure to progress” in a hospital and ended up with interventions or a c-section, but what she proceeded to do helped me birth my child at home, naturally. And was also another gauntlet of pain. She manually lifted the tiny bit of my cervix that was impeding the baby’s descent. I screamed. It worked.
I still never really felt a strong urge to push, but I did because I knew I had to get her out to keep her safe. That’s all I knew. I was sobbing dry tears, too tired & in too much pain to really cry. On oxygen for the last hour. They were rotating me from side to front to side again to keep her heart rate stable because in certain positions it would dip. I was terrified for her. I was sweating. My hair was matted. I kept apologizing to the baby. I was so, so scared.
I felt, for the first time in my life, that my best might not be enough. I dug as deep as I could. Focused as hard as I could. And it felt like it would just never happen. That I just wouldn’t get her out. Thoughts of being cut open started to sound like a relief. I felt so defeated yet never stopped trying. I felt her life depended on me, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. I knew I wouldn’t stop trying until I collapsed or they told me it wasn’t working. But they never said that.
They kept telling me how great I was doing, how normal everything was–a chorus of encouragement. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to let her down. And so I kept on. Finally the midwife grabbed my hand and placed it on her head. It was warm and wet and soft. A disturbing sensation out of context, but in this context that sense of progress, her on the verge of this world, was what I needed to keep on. Within minutes she was born. The relief was stronger than anything I’ve felt in my entire life. She was on my chest, alive: she was here. It had actually happened. I was sobbing, relieved yet still scared. I kept asking “is my baby okay? is my baby okay?” and they just smiled and said “she’s wonderful”. Everything was perfect. My Eula was there. Matt was crying tears of joy. I was crying but mostly from exhaustion and pain mixed with relief and protective panic. I pushed for about two and a half hours.
The aftermath: I was still in pain after she was on my chest; I didn’t find it magically disappeared. But I wasn’t in labor, and that’s something. And now, just a week later, the memory of that pain is fading beneath the force of remembering her on my chest. I was scared to birth the placenta because I was so spent, but it turned out to not be as harrowing as I feared in the moment. I didn’t tear at all (despite my OB having told me that “10 out of 10 first time moms tear”) though it felt like I was being ripped in half. The swelling and bleeding are gone just over a week in. My recovery has been wonderful. I have, save the odd short walk or milling around the house, stayed off my feet for the first week and half. I feel like that time invested now will buy me a quicker recovery over all & has allowed me to focus exclusively on breastfeeding.
As soon as it was over, I couldn’t have imagined doing it any other way. The pain, even nightmarish pain, was a small price to pay to have a natural birth at home. I did it. There are no words for the strength I felt when it was done. Unbearable pain turned out to be bearable, and I never once wavered or wished for medication to get me out. I was just in it. I would do the exact same thing with the exact same team next time. For us, home birth was the right choice. It may seem strange to describe such a crucible as ideal, perfect, exactly what you wanted. But it was. Being at home was serene—to simply settle in with my husband after a long, hard birth was a dream. No monitors, no checks, no beeps and wires and needles. Just peace in bed. No drive there or drive home. Our midwife taught us everything we needed to know, and they stayed with us for four hours after she was born. She was back the very next day for a follow-up and has remained available for every little question we’ve had. And as first time parents, yeah, that’s a lot.
And that’s how I became a mother to Eulalie. I, in the corner of my eye, feared my sense of self just might fracture into unrecoverable shards leaving me an amorphous what instead of a who upon entering motherhood. And it has fractured me. But it scattered me into an exquisitely painful stardust. I don’t need to be whole. To be broken into pieces is somehow a pure experience of love. To be completely atomized. Self became, in a moment, irrelevant and overrated.
I naively thought that the pain would have a human face, that it would be something that you could negotiate with, but it was like the side of a glacier. I don’t think it’s like that for everyone. I hope that next time it will be easier.
I couldn’t have put it better myself. Exactly times a million.
It’s not like that for everyone, I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m bragging.. my partner birthed my son 8 weeks ago at home when our midwife didn’t show up. I was very lucky in that my contractions only felt like very minor period pains (I think this is completely down to hypnobirthing- I was cynical at first but it worked wonders). It’s so different for everyone, thank you for sharing your story.
Your honesty is beautiful to read . Thank you x
Beth,
What an absolutely beautiful story! Your daughter is beautiful. Thanks for sharing with us. At times, I actually felt I was there. Congratulations!!!!
Thanks for your story, Beth. It’s beautiful. Inspiring to me as a non-Mom that always assumed she would have a home birth when the time comes. ; )
Congratulations to you and your husband, Beth! Thank you for sharing your birth story (as well as all of your other stories) in your beautiful, sensitive way. I am a big fan of your writing and photography. With friends who are becoming mothers, it is great to read carefully recounted experiences as yours. All the best to you and your little daughter.
Wow. I’m 31, due with my first little girl Oct. 5. Just had my last childbirth education class today. Going to the local Birth Center with midwives. I have LOVED seeing your Instagram stories of your precious little girl and my sister and I are always updating each other when you have a new one up so we can watch asap! She’s so precious and perfect! Thank you for sharing your birth story!
Such beautiful writing.
you are 100% correct.
Child birth is like torture.
(Three rounds, not out yet!)
Beautiful, harrowing, real. Your writing is exquisite and so is your daughter. Thank you for sharing it all xx
What a beautiful write up… A perfect choice of words explaining the innocent yet scary emotions.. You have give a face to the process of birth..Thank you for sharing with us. Love to Eula from India! 🙂
Love your detailed story! I also love the pictures with natural Colors, so relaxing. Nice to actually see her instead of huge bows on her head and over whelming colors. Beautiful , and natural 🙂
Beth that was such a beautiful thing to read. I am so thrilled for you guys and you have me all weepy and nostalgic for that intense, magical time that is like nothing else. Lots and lots of love to you.
Thank you for sharing . I posted something earlier .. Not seeing it.. So… I love the pictures as well as the details, it’s not all roses, it’s hard mind numbing, labor .. But look at the miracle .. The pictures are natural , relaxing, not big bows that cover her entire head or bright clothing that over whelms her beauty. Love simple and beautiful!
You are a freaking lady boss!!!! Loved reading this, thank you for sharing so honestly, was absolutely beautiful ready.
Beth, I am crying reading this. You almost exactly described my experience with birth and specifically home birth. And I was never adequately able to describe the pain to those that have not been through it. But like you I wouldn’t take it back for anything…in fact I endured it again to bring a second baby girl into the world. Welcome to the motherhood club, it is a fierce tribe despite differences. I had heard someone say before that if men had to go through labor there would be no war. I couldn’t agree more. Once you experience what it takes to bring life forth in the world every child becomes your own and life so utterly precious. Many blessings to you and your sweet family.
what a story.. Welcome to world Eula. Wish you a healthy and happy life little girl <3
So wonderful you could have this beautiful transition into motherhood. Thank you for sharing your story.
I’d love to know what factors you feel affected you not tearing. I have always been an “always in the hospital” kind of person) and I still probably am but when the time comes I want to be able to evaluate all the factors like you did that will make birth easiest for me. I really liked what you said about being able to move from shower to tub to bed. That stuck a chord for me, and has me thinking. I loved reading your experience. And she is beautiful.
This is amazing! I had a very different experience – severe pre-eclampsia at 33 weeks, put on in-hospital strict bed rest for 2.5 days, injected with steroids to develop the baby’s lungs, then induced on Christmas Day. I couldn’t handle the pain in my back once I was induced (and confined to lying on my back) and got an epidural, which thankfully, at least made me dilate several centimeters immediately. My labor escalated really fast, but his heart rate dropped as I was pushing (just like your sweet girl) and they suctioned him out a little bit. It was so crazy, and so the opposite of what my midwives and my husband and I had planned, but the end reward of meeting your baby is amazing! Your story is just beautiful. I would love to give birth again without complications! I also love your words about the selflessness of motherhood, I somehow feel like I am more of who I am supposed to be now that I am a mom.
Congratulations! What a beautiful story.
She is absolutely gorgeous. Congratulations to you and your husband. I have loved seeing all your Instagrams all week.
I am so, so proud of you, Beth. I cried myself through this wonderful post, realized a lot, and feel pure happiness for you and your little family. Thank you so much for sharing it all with us. You give me so many good things with your words. All my love.
I was 35 – nearly 36 – when I gave birth to my first child. I say gave birth but it wasn’t so, I had a C section, which was from the start of my pregnancy supposed to happen. In my country, getting pregnant at 35 will immediately make it a high risk pregnancy in the eyes of OB’s, dunno why, but I came from history of miscarriages despite being quite healthy myself. The baby was also huge – and I do mean huge, he was 4,500kg and so big! – and he simply wouldn’t come, he was born a few weeks after his due date, which was early August, he came out near the end of the month. C section was what Iwas told I would be having from the moment the doctor saw his size. I didn’t dilate, at all, but went through pain pretty much as you described it – I can still remember how horrid it was, how torturing it felt! – for twelve hours. I wasn’t allowed out of bed and all I wanted was to get up and walk, my body begged me to get up and walk to eas the pain and I wasn’t allowed. There was a mix up in the paper work and after forcing me into labour the young doctor who did it never jotted down I was to have a C section, so everyone kept expecting me to dilate, and I was refused drugs and my husband kept insistig I was supposed to have a C section as my pregnancy had been considered high risk. NO one would listen to us, and the doctor following me was off that day. Finally, and when the baby was already in such distress his heart rate was beggining to fail, I was allowed a C section. He came out healthy and I forgot the bad and the painful for a while. But in the end, to have the privilege of a home birth is something I would have loved, actually, although I knew he would never have come out on a natural birth and a C section was necessary. BUt the thing about not letting one out of bed, that sounds and felt so horrible, so vicious, so mean!! I could feel my body and my baby begging me to walk, to move, and the nurses were downright rude and awful. THe days after having the baby were also bad, at hospital, I longed for our home, the comfort and the serenity of just the three of us getting used to each other and doing it by ourselves, at our rythm… I have to say, home births may not be in the books for everyone but they are so much more humane than hospitals!! Your little girl is very beautyful, and you three are one lovely family. All the best and thank you for sharing this, I have always wanted to know how it was.
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She’s beautiful. May she have a long and happy life. Congratulations. You are family. D
The screaming, yes that was how my first was too. But the second and third were much easier. No screaming, lots of deep breathing. I think I just knew what to expect after going through it once. Thank you for sharing so eloquently and allowing me to reminisce. I am so thankful to have been able to birth my boys at home.
thank you for sharing your exquisite birth story of Eula.
it was wonderfully written and I just love all of the pix.
she is a treasure! congratulations to you and your new family!
What a beautiful, honest telling of Eulalie’s birth, it made me weep a little! My first is 13 this year but I attempted a home birth with him, like you, feeling that was where I wanted to be. He also got stuck behind a cervical lip and by the time my skilled midwife had released him we were both too exhausted for the final push so were tansferred for a ventouse delivery. But I don’t regret trying, if I’d been in hospital all along I would have had a ceasarian and my fantastic midwifes ‘sprung’ me from hospital immediately so at least I got to recover at home under their care.
Good advice to stay bedbound for a week or more if you can, it helped me recover quickly and luckily we both took yo breastfeeding relatively easily. She’s beautiful, Beth, enjoy this precious time!
PS – more #babyaulait Instagram stories and videos pleaaaaaaaaaaase! Your baby is made out of sweet potatoes and butter. 🙂 Getting me excited for my first Baby Girl who will be joining us in a few weeks.
Everything about pregnancy, birthing and parenting has momentum and this does feel daunting at times. But sometimes it is good to feel you have no choice but to face something because when we yield, we can find strength we never knew we had.
The pain of labour can be hellish. It can feel like you are being tortured, despite positive spin and being told to use words like ‘waves’ and ‘tightenings’. I wanted to slap my midwife when she told me not to think of it as pain. But I got through it and so did you.
Congratulations!
Congratulations, such delightful news….may your little girl be blessed with love that surrounds her for all of the days of her life.
Yes, you are right, Self becomes irrelevant & overrated, once you have held your little one in your arms.
What an exquisite and beautiful story, and particularly so because you have shared what much of the mainstream needs to hear, that birth is a natural (albeit painful!) experience. Best wishes to all of you.
Congratulations on your healthy, beautiful little lady. I love the name Eulalie. Your candor, reasonableness and understanding in revealing the ups and downs of motherhood are refreshing, even though it is new territory for you. I wish I had had that confidence my first time. I wish you happiness and peace in the coming weeks and months.
Beth! Congratulations, you gentle warrior. Not being a cook, nor a Mother, I peek in on you from time to time via blog, this morning happily finding your sweet little girl amongst us! I took a breath, I read your birthing experience, and thought about how the tide brings us in and out of ourselves…to the edges of the universe. I’m very proud to observe. You are a beautiful family. Sweet thoughts.
Loved reading this. It is so important to have like minded medical professionals around you. I think this can be found in hospitals too, if you make sure to choose a midwife or OB who shares your values and respects your wishes. I have had two intervention free hospital births in two states; during the first I had the same cervical lip issue as you, and for the second I labored 2 days at home before going to the hospital and having him 2 hours later. I just want to say that if a home birth isn’t possible or desirable for some people, it is more than possible to have the birth you want in a hospital, and doesn’t necessarily involve fighting the system.
Thank-you for this beautiful story of the gorgeous Eulalie’s birth and the magnificent photos!! You and your husband made the perfect team, united by love and respect- how lovely a memory for both of you! You were fortunate to have the great support of an excellent midwife and emergency medical care nearby if warranted, and thank goodness it wasn’t. You were so brave, as was your husband. Bless all of you and what a perfect day to give birth! P.S. I LOVE her name!
Thank you for your presence in our world…your words reach out and touch the depths of my being…tears arise in suspended breath…awaiting the next word filled with expression beyond almost anything I have ever read (and I read continuously!) Your ability to navigate the subleties of language never ceases to daze me. Congratulations to you and your beloved on realizing such a beautiful being…your baby, Eulalie! May she find peace in your arms and pieces of self blown as a dandelion to the wind…for our world has such need of these young yet old beings…allowing and inviting us to remember…
So sweet!!! Congrats Beth – she is perfect.
Thank you for sharing your story so honestly. I had a home birth after two hospital births and it was a beautiful experience. I still remember the late November sunshine streaning in the window twenty eight years on. My pain sounds very similar to yours -nothing before or since to compare. I was also plagued with several days afterbirth contractions that were almost as bad as the labor pains and I remember thinking how unfair that was ! But all in all I have no regrets and three beautiful daughters to show for it. Congratulations and love-your husband sounds amazing !!!!!
She’s so incredibly gorgeous and I adore her name! The name Eulalie is one of my favorites and was on my baby name lists for both of my pregnancies. We ended up going with Éowyn for our first daughter and Aurélie for our second. I loved reading your beautiful birth story. Thank you for sharing it.
What a beautiful angel!
You are so brave. I wish I had the nerve. People are fast to scare you about home birth but I truely believe you are safer at home. What’s best for the mom & baby sometimes takes a backseat to what’s best for the hospital & doctor.
It’s like nothing you could have ever imagined, isn’t it?
She’s absolutely beautiful Beth. Love that dark head of hair! Your story telling is also so engaging, as always.
Beautiful, just beautiful!
beautiful story and beautiful images, thank you so much for sharing such an intimate moment. you are so spot on with your words and explanations, I felt like you were talking about my own birth story and had me reliving mine while reading yours (granted, mine was completely different, but the feelings all the same). congratulations
Reading this brought tears to my eyes as an expecting mama. Thank you for sharing in this honest way, and for the gentle reminder to slow down and savour all the moments that are so easily overlooked and may seem insignificant.
Congratulations to you both, she is so lovely. Welcome to the mama-hood 🙂
Everything about this is beautiful! I was certain that your lives would descend into complete chaos once Eulalie was born and that it would be a long time before we would relish in your beautiful writing or photographs again…. You proved me wrong and with an unrivaled gusto! Congratulations to you and Matt! Can’t wait to share this post with as many people as possible!!!
So real and raw and deeply beautiful, I am awaiting the birth of my son and am so grateful to have had the privilege of reading this. I can’t fathom the pain you describe but your strength has given me courage, thank you so much for sharing this in such intimate detail.
Congratulations to all and thank you for sharing your honest and mesmerizing tale. Welcome to the world, Eulalie Willa! You have chosen wonderful parents who will love you and learn from you all of their days. Enjoy this very special time as a new family, safe and warm in your cozy home.
Over-the-moon thrilled for the three of you. Congratulations, mama! You did it. <3
she’s beautiful – well done mamma!
Amazing. She is a gift. Be proud of yourself and your families journey. Remember to let your friends and family continue to take care of you for the next little while.
I had been a midwife for several years before having my own daughter and was taken aback at the depth of my love for my daughter the moment I saw her. It was the most incredible moment to birth her and shocking at the same time.
Be gentle to yourself and enjoy your new family of three
Congratulations to you and your husband on the birth of your lovely little girl. Way to go MOM! You’re on tough cookie!
thank you for the beautiful story, for sharing this moment, so personal.
i love the power of birth…
3 years ago, my daughter Anna was born on the same day that you had Eulalie. I was at a South African government hospital. All natural, no epidural. 12 hours in labor… I have forgotten the pain (mostly) – but do remember that a it’s peak, I was unable to cry or scream. But that faded, and was left with my beautiful little red haired girl. I would love to have a home birth with my next one. Much love from Africa.
So many emotions reading this, Beth (that I don’t have your capacity for language to express, so I won’t try!) Thank you for sharing your thoughts and these photos of your beautiful baby girl, whom I just can’t get enough of. She is just too perfect. All the congrats in the world to you and your wondrous new family of three.
Welcome Eula (what a lovely name). I had “natural childbirth” in a hospital with both my girls in 1984 and 1989. No one forced me to have an IV, an enema, wires, probes, etc. I discussed what we wanted before the birth and our wishes were respected. No drugs, six hours of labor. An hour of pushing (yes, I was one lucky woman!) Have hospitals changed so much since the 80’s? My experience was wonderful. Clean sheets, warm blankets, kind and knowlegable nurses who encouraged me to walk and be comfortable, even when a varicose vein had me spotting all over the floor, my great nurse Just brought in a mop! A hospital birth CAN be womdrful and intimate. I labored and delivered in the same room. And stayed there with my baby and hubby until we went home. Awesome.
And so glad your birth was great too. Hope it’s a lot easier next time!
Such an amazing heart felt story. You put it so eloquently even through the tough times. Made me tear up. Thanks for sharing!
I’ve been a long time follower of your account and was so excited to see your newest blog post. Such a powerful and positive birth story Beth! Your descriptive words and honesty were very moving. Eula is beautiful! Congrats to you both!
Oh Beth,
I’ve never commented before, but… this. Oh so beautiful and true. I felt like you were writing my first child’s birth story, right down to the lip of the cervix! You are so so strong. And yes, it’s easier the second time! I pushed for over two hours with my first and really at some points thought I might die. But the second was thirty minutes and I felt confident I could ride the waves of pain and survive. Your darling girl is just beautiful!
Nikki
Where is your grey baby bed from?
It’s by Nesta’s Nest…I’ll be posting about it in the next couple of months! I love it so much.
Thank you!
When I saw that you had her at home, I smiled, because of course. Your story is so beautiful; I am so glad you shared it here. You inspire me every day. You make me remember the important things that get lost as I try to live slow with three little kids and a business and a cross-country move.
All three of mine were born at home, and I wouldn’t change it. My mom told me after my first baby was born that I wouldn’t ever experience a birth like that again, my mom who had eight, whose body I expanded and opened first as Eula opened yours. And she was right, and each succeeding birth was more joyful, more powerful and less painful than I could have imagined. You become someone else after you have borne a child. You grow a woman where a girl once lived. You have not only birthed your baby; you have birthed yourself as a mother. It is the most beautiful thing in the world. I love how you see this. Congratulations, Mama. Welcome to the world.
Beth~
Congratulations on your beautiful baby girl.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful and honest journey into motherhood. Your writing is so lovely to read. I’m in tears over here! Wishing all three of you the absolute best.
Kat
Welcome, Eula! Congratulations to you, Beth, and your husband. Thanks for sharing your birthing story. Beautiful pictures. Looking forward to more family photos. R
tout le bonheur du monde pour cette merveilleuse petite Eulalie
Félicitations aux parents
Anne
Congrats. Loved reading this and such lovely photos. I enjoyed a similar home birth and, as challenging as it was, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Enjoy every newborn minute, they are hard to beat.
I’ve been enjoying your blog for awhile now, but have never commented on a post. Just wanted to send my heartfelt high-fives for such a wonderful birth story and a lovely babe. My dear Zelda was born at home in April (delivered by my sister), joining her older brother Athos (who turned four on 8/12). Huzzahs for love and food and life! All the best to you and your family.
Thank you so much for telling your story in detail. The pain of my birth in December was excruciating as well and I have honestly felt shame about it. I wanted a natural birth in the hospital like you had planned and I ended up crying to my husband that I had to have the epidural. I haven’t felt shame about that, just shame about the fact that the labor and delivery were so intensely and horrifically painful and it seems like that shouldn’t be allowed from all the books. articles and blogs I read about natural birth. Thank you for showing that even though you didn’t do it “right”, you did it! I also have the exact same fault of thinking there’s a “right” way to do everything which I have to remind myself frequently just isn’t the truth. Eulalie is stunning and so are you.
You said what I felt about my choice to birth at home. The experience is so unlike anything else. This next child will be my 3rd home birth and I’m so excited. She is beautiful. Congratulations dear.
I’m no where near ready to have a child at 22 but I follow your instagram and have to say your writing and story really hit hard – thank you for sharing.
Just absolutely beautifully written. I’m not yet a mother and I have never felt such a strong understanding and connection to a birth story. Thank you for being so raw.
Wow, what an enthralling story. I was very convinced I would never get pregnant and would just adopt kids when I got older, but your storytelling of your experience is making me rethink that choice just a bit. Also, your baby and writing are both incredibly beautiful. Congratulations on having a healthy and adorable baby girl!
This just has to be the most beautiful array of words I have ever read. My eyes are filled with tears and I am reminded what love is, not the sort that you read about in the classics but something so much more raw and wholesome, something so real. Congratulations on entering the surreal world of motherhood and may your journey be one filled with warmth and radiance. xxx
Your story reminds me of why I became a Midwife, why I continue to do the work in the world today. This is an important tale and my heartstrings are brighter today, my hardwires softened, and knowing you are in great hands as you age into motherhood. You sucked me back in, because I know those moments so intimately. Breath taken.
I look forward to watching your journey from afar, Beth. Eula and Matt.
All love surround,
Rebecca
Congratulations on your new baby girl! Your beautifully written story brought me to tears as I remembered all 3 of my children’s births. Three. Best. Days of my life. Now they are 36, 34, & 33-yes, three in 37 months! My husband (the love of my life, my support for their births) and I still look back in wonder on those days. Welcome to the world, little Eulalie! You are fresh from God.
I must admit that I didn’t head your advice when you said not to continue reading if we were about to give birth, ha! I first read it a few weeks before I was due with my fourth baby. (Sorry it’s taken me so long to finally comment!) Anyway, I’d had three natural, un-medicated births, but the third was horrifically worse than I expected, traumatic even, (especially after the second was “somewhat bearable” compared to the first, and so I hoped the third would be slightly easier than the second). And so I was admittedly nervous about doing it yet again. BUT, I really appreciated your raw honesty here. It’s sort of trendy to talk about “natural, gentle, beautiful birthing”, without much or any mention of the onslaught of pain that often comes with it. So, reading this sort of gave me courage, and helped me to remember that it’s okay to suffer in childbirth. Actually, it’s what’s supposed to happen. So, thank you! And my fourth birth actually went pretty well. Our little Lilah Juniper arrived September 10th, about thirty minutes after pulling up to the hospital. It was nuts…but in a good way. I had to have my pants removed in the check-in room, my water broke on the bed as I was being wheeled down the hall half naked, we barely made it into the delivery room in time to push, and I was screaming my head off like a maniac, hahaha. Oh, birth.
“I felt like I was being tortured. Game of Thrones style.” – vow, you explained it precisely. I think a new word for such pain should be created. Because it is not a pain. It is something much much more different. Like something sent from outer space 🙂
I had my first baby almost exactly four months before you did, a silky soft dark haired daughter we named Wrenna Lorelai. Our experience was different from yours. It was bad, and many of my worst fears came about. After so many months of yoga, and kale smoothies, and meditation, and getting to know my wonderful midwives through so many healthy check ups… I was strapped to a hospital bed for four days of labor and agony, induced after being two weeks overdue. The most potent agony was my feeling of powerlessness. In fact, the first two weeks after, memories of my labor placed me on the floor of the hospital room. It took me two weeks to realize that I was remembering it from a perspective that was false. Surely, I was in a bed, right? I was, but the oppressiveness of the cords, wires, and people on top of me, pummeled my subconscious self into the ground. Anyway, though our experiences were different, I intensely related to much that you had to say in the beautiful narrative above. The strange cocktail of pain, otherworldliness, fear that it wasn’t going to happen, gratitude, crying, … and most of all, the support of a husband so steadfast, I wept for weeks afterwards thinking about him and the way he tenderly administered ten thousand sips of water to my cracked lips for four days straight. I just discovered your blog, and I can’t get enough. Please keep sharing! – – – Thanks – Amy, owner, http://www.wildstems.com
A very interesting story. Thank you for sharing. This reminds me of the time when I gave birth to a baby. Difficult but full of pride
I’m almost a year late to this post, but just wanted to say thank you for sharing.
Sharing birth stories can be quite controversial/competitive (- it really shouldn’t be). From my own experience everyone seems to think that the duration of labour equates to how much pain was experienced. That’s definitely not the case, and it’s sad that these details are the focal points for some people.
I like that you preferenced your post with the comment that this was YOUR experience. Your story was beautiful. Congratulations!
Beautiful story! Thank you for sharing! I was crying when i read it.
My dear after two home births and one transport to the hospital for a cesarian your story is a normal birth. Don’t tell women who are pregnant to stop reading. This is a wonderful story and the truth. Women must know that when they feel like giving up, 99% of us do, and we think death would be better, then the baby must be almost born. We travel to some other place entirely to retrieve them. this is absolutely shamanic. I would ask that you edit your story to encourage those that have not yet crossed the birth threshold to keep reading and that there is a wonderful ending!
Some women feel very strongly about not coloring their expectation with the subjective experience of another…I don’t want pregnant women to stop reading! I only want them to have a choice and know that birth story follows. I know a lot of women that choose to not read them for personal reason. : )
Dearest Beth – What an absolutely beautiful birth story. I have written the story of my son’s birth only in journals and, gosh, this took my breath away. A home birth felt right for us, too. I labored at home for 22 hours with my husband, midwife, and doula (most of the time in the tub) before being transferred to the hospital as my water had broken right when labor began (in cinema fashion). I also had a cervical lip – oh the frustration of coming so far! And, I pushed with that lip there for two hours at home. The pain you describe – that so vividly describes mine, too. Even at 6.5 months postpartum, I can still remember very clearly. Luckily, while at the hospital, the doctors and midwives let me labor and I delivered him after a few more hours of pushing. Your Eula is beautiful! Thank you for sharing your story. <3
chills & tears. I resonate with so much of your story, myself in same. Pain with beauty. transmuted I guess. All worthwhile. <3 Thank you for sharing. These moments to come back to when necessary because all the love is here. Thank you, thank you Beth. xo.
What a beautiful story! It made me tear up a couple of times. Thank you so much for sharing.