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Center for pregnancy, natural birth, waterbirth & holistic care |
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| A Letter to My Baby: The Story of Your Birth
Hello Angel, You have just announced that you are on your way very soon. My water broke two-and-a-half hours ago, so now I am just trying to stay calm and understand what this all means. Actually, you are not due to arrive for another two weeks - the doctors thought you would be here on or around August 23rd. I suspected you would be early... I have been warning people that I myself was two weeks early. I also remember looking at a moon calendar many months ago, and taking notice of this particularly powerful August 9th full moon. It marks Raksha Bandhan here in India (a Hindu festival that celebrates the relationship between brothers and sisters - a girl ties a rakhi or holy thread on the wrist of her brother or another boy close to her family; the boy in return offers a gift to his sister and vows to look after her). On August 9th this year, a great Goan festival will also occur, during which fishermen give their thanks to the sea with the offering of a small coconut. I remember clearly suspecting that this magic moon certainly had the power to influence your birth. The thing that makes me sad and scared is that your Papa might miss your amazing arrival into this world, and that I won't have anyone who loves me to share the most incredible moment of my life with. You see, he is in a far away land right now, in Switzerland, and he is due to arrive back in New Delhi on Friday morning. I've been trying to reach him for the past couple of hours, but so far he is not answering his telephone, so still he doesn't realize that you have decided to come NOW. I was also hoping your Nana would have been here in time... she's still got another eight days before her plane lands from Canada. So, I am alone here in a Goan guesthouse, where I have been for the past 16 days preparing for your arrival. Anyway, I am going to try to keep contacting them and who knows, maybe they can arrive a little sooner. I don't know how much control I have over this whole process, but maybe you will wait for your Papa?
Midwife Corinna really is exactly the person we need right now: totally practical, but so very caring at the same time. She's got a spiritual self but she's no new-age fluffy type, and she's got a set of strong hands with which I am sure she will catch you. I was just with her for a prenatal class this morning, thinking that we still had at least a week to go. Anyway, I had a little lunch here, then was enjoying one of the afternoon power naps you have been lulling me into lately, when suddenly your warm little Jacuzzi tub decided to empty itself with a sploosh! I woke up in this swimming pool in a state of shock, disbelief and denial. I thought, "No! This can't be happening now. I can't go through this alone! It must be something else that is causing all this water!" I paced between the bed and the bathroom and the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, sobbing with tears, before I finally had to conclude that you have just had enough in there. By 2:50pm I called Corinna. The moment my number flashed on her mobile, she knew something was up... she had only just said good-bye to me a little over an hour before, and there was no logical reason for me to call her now. I told her what was happening, still half hoping she would tell me it was something else. Instead, she confirmed that yes, to her it sounded like this meant show time. I should try to stay calm, and she would come over. Somehow in the span of that 40 minutes I managed to pack my birthing bag. Only yesterday did I finally get around to purchasing the last of your necessities. Actually, come to think of it, I had felt a bit strange all day long yesterday. I was extremely tired, with big dark circles under my eyes. When I had returned home from my shopping mission, I sat on the bed surrounded by cloth nappies and miniature pairs of socks, and suddenly felt like I was having a nervous breakdown. I panicked. How on earth was I going to manage as a mother? With a beating heart I started sending frantic text messages to your Papa's mother. Her advice? Breathe. Now today, I realise why I have been feeling so emotional - I suppose my inner self was preparing us and knew that your big event was about to happen.
I have decided to stay here in my room and see how I feel, and how things progress, even though I am alone, I have never done this before, and I wonder very seriously if I will even know when I really should make a move. I asked the spirits to guide me and to give me strength enough to know when the time was right. Tuesday, August 8 2006 Time sure is moving itself along here quickly, it seems. I've finally managed to speak to your Papa, and both of your grandmothers (Nana in Canada and Mamu in Switzerland). I think we're all in a state of shock that you've decided to come so soon. Your Papa was at work in Switzerland when I finally reached him. I know the news threw him for quite the loop and I am sure he is chain smoking like crazy to try to calm himself. He somehow lost his ability to logically determine what to do... I had to talk him through contacting airlines, etc., between these waves of contractions! It was quite funny. He told me I sounded pretty good considering what I was going through; it was as though some sort of adrenaline was pumping through my body and making me full of laughter and giggles. Tuesday, August 8 2006 I have sent out some text messages to a few friends and family that this show has begun, so we are getting a lot of support from many corners of the globe. It is so wonderful to have that love and support to help me through, as it as been somewhat of a lonely ride so far. Tuesday, August 8 2006 I am just sitting on the bed in my room amidst a big circle of crystals and having some light contractions, trying to stay calm. I'm listening to some beautiful, shanti Indian music, I've lit some candles, and am burning stick after stick of Sai Flora, my favourite incense. I am breathing.
I think these contractions must feel terrible for you, suddenly having the walls of your nice little house closing in around your beautiful little self like that. I hope it is not too scary for you. It's before midnight and these light contractions are coming every five minutes or so. They don't hurt much, they are just like little waves, coming in, going out. Every time, I just close my eyes and try to focus on my breath, breathing deeply and slowly through them. I understand that with every wave you are coming closer to this world. I just realised I have not eaten anything since lunchtime, so made some three-minute vermicelli with tofu and all that was left in the fridge, after spooning down half a jar of peanut butter. Somehow, I felt I would need the protein. So now I am here alone with all these thoughts I have about you, and the life we are about to embark upon together. I have to tell you that I have an immense amount of respect for you, and that I already know you are a very, very brave little soul. You have chosen what I think will be an amazing but somewhat out of the ordinary life for yourself. Your parents are not so typical... they are quite nomadic and keep wandering around and around and around the globe, trying to find their place in this big world. I hope you will (wow... stronger contractions coming every ten minutes or so now) be open to this life, exploring and learning about the world less through textbooks and more through your own eyes. I hope we can give you an education that is more about understanding and becoming inspired and moved by the world's wonders, people, cultures, history, religions, geography and languages, than what most of us had, which was just from textbooks and so very boring. You, our little angel, deserve so much more. And I suppose that's part of the reason you have chosen us... it might be difficult for you to really appreciate sometimes why your life is a bit different than some of the other children your age. I hope you know we are always just trying to do the very, very best with everything, at every moment, that we can. And I hope you will also understand that for all of us, learning continues for our whole lives. That means we still are learning every day, even though we are already adults. In fact, even though you still have not arrived, I know very strongly that you are coming to teach us as much, or far more, than we are here to teach you.
And you should know you already have people all over the world who love you so much, and who are very excited to see you arrive and to meet you. There are people in Canada, Switzerland, England, France, Australia, Japan, India, Germany, the U.S., and many other places, who have been sending you notes of love for a safe and warm arrival into this world. You, unlike most babies, will be born in a place with very dim lighting, so we make sure not to harm your tender and sensitive eyes. In quietness, as to not shock your sensitive ears. Very possibly into a warm bath of water that is very much like the pool you've already been swimming in. We won't hold you upside down by the feet, we won't slap your little bottom, and we won't be cutting your umbilical cord right away like doctors do. I won't be taking any pain medication or having any other terrible drugs administered that could harm us, and most of all, you won't be taken away from me and put in a metal tray, or in some awful room full of other people's babies far away from me. You will come directly to my chest, so that you can feel my warmth and my love, so you can hear the same heartbeat you've been hearing for the last nine months, so you can feel the touch of my hands on your back and hear the whisper of my voice in your ear, welcoming the world's newest little arrival. I don't know if you are here to change the world, but you are certainly here to change MY world, and I can only imagine the adventures we will embark upon in this life together. Sometime between 2 and 3am, I fell asleep briefly. At 4:30am I finally had one wave of a contraction that somehow felt quite different. My thoughts, "Woahhhhh. It's time to make a move." I called my trusted taxi driver (I had warned him in the afternoon to be ready), and thankfully he was on the ball and awake. I gave Corinna a wake-up call, packed the last of my things and had some help down the stairs from the guesthouse owners. Wednesday, August 9, 2006 I arrived at the birthing centre in the darkness of the morning, 14 hours after my water had broken and after a night full of contractions. The morning was calm and quiet. I laid on the birthing bed, snacked, folded laundry and talked to Corinna between contractions, which got steadily more intense over the next four hours. Wednesday, August 9, 2006 I have just completely lost it... I burst into tears and released a lot of what was boiling up. It was perhaps an acknowledgement of THE SOMETHING really major and unknown I would need to get through, between that instant and the time you will arrive. With those tears I let out all my fear, nervousness, and sadness, and replaced them with strength and a knowing that actually, I am not alone at all: we - Corinna, you, and I - would do this together, and that everything would be fine. Corinna started filling the tub with warm water (triple filtered water!), flowing into her big luxurious birthing bathtub. The thought of soaking in a tub again was actually quite appealing (most Indian households and hotels have showers, not tubs). Wednesday, August 9, 2006 Just as my body had taken yet another BIG step and contractions started to sweep me away from this world as we know it, my phone rang. I thought maybe it was your Papa calling, and that I would be able to speak with him one more time before you arrived. Instead, it was your Aunties Michelle, Caro and Sally, and Uncle Pete, all around one microphone in Vancouver. In the state of mind I was in at the time, I actually wasn't even completely sure who it was, but all I heard in unison was, "We're breathing with you!" Even though I was having so much trouble focusing my mind at that moment, it was a wonderful surprise and gave me an extra cupful of strength to get through. At that point, I was ordered to turn off my phone and get in the tub. My brain had begun turning half to mush, signalling the beginning of the transition stage, which is by far the most intense and unbelievable part of this marathon. With you, my dear, this stage lasted about three full hours. Looking back, it seemed as though my whole body, mind, and soul had been overtaken by some remarkable drug. Some powerful, overwhelming drug that slowly but surely had gripped my whole body, with no chance of either escape or maintaining control. The tub was warm, my crystals were right there along the edge (some magical midwife had snuck them there beside us), and wave after surging wave started coming in stronger and faster to pound me against the shore. My eyes were closed throughout most of the experience, to help me to focus my energy on doing all that I needed to do to get you out here safe and sound.
This stage seemed unending. I wondered if I would ever be released from the cycle. With each wave I was only focusing on the moment it might subside, and on that deep and vital prana, breath of life force, to feed you with the oxygen you needed to compete your journey. I felt you coming closer down the channel, and then your head was about to arrive. I can't remember exactly, but I believe it took three or four big explosive pushes for your head and one more big one for your little tiny body to slip out. For some reason, during these moments, I couldn't open my eyes... not until Corinna was just about to lift your head out of the water do I remember opening my eyes in the dim, afternoon-lit room where candles burned and Indian fusion music was playing softly in the background. It was the most surreal moment of my existence. You were so tiny, so frail like a little bird, but your bright blue eyes were wide open and your arms unfolded out to your sides like a flower blooming, and you swam out of me. You looked so tiny and unbelievable to me, like a little miracle. For so many months I had imagined this moment: what it would feel like, what you would look like. And to be honest, up until the moment I saw your sweet little face, a part of me couldn't imagine or really believe that there was a real baby inside me, or how we made this little miracle that would have all the right bits in all the right places. But it was 1:35pm and there you were, two weeks early and completely coated with a very thick layer of varnix (the thick cream cheese-like layer of nature's skin care) that is usually gone by full term. The big thick umbilical cord was still attached and pumping away like crazy, and it was blocking my view of part of you. I asked Corinna if you were a boy or a girl and she guided my hand to give me the answer. A boy! A boy! It was a real surprise for me, and for many people (including Corinna) who thought by the way I was carrying that you were a girl. Then Corinna calmly pointed out to me, at some point in those first few precious moments, "He's not breathing... " Somehow, I was not the slightest bit alarmed by this news, because I knew your cord was still attached and pumping so strongly that you didn't have any need to switch over to your lungs yet. She calmly sucked the mucus from your mouth and nostrils and let you breathe with both systems for several minutes. Then, she gently placed you in my arms for the first time. I held you, wrapped in a small towel against my chest and was floating in a state of shock. I whispered a welcome to you, back into this world, and just couldn't stop staring into your little eyes that were peaking out at me. Your little hand slowly reached out to touch my lips, and some magical connection occurred between two beings who had just completed an amazing journey together. We did it, little one, you and me. Actually, we did it, we three together. Corinna asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord myself, but I knew between the state of my brain and my weak stomach that this was not the moment I could consider such a task. Then, you were gently wrapped and washed a bit and tucked onto the bed. And all this time, you were completely silent, other than some little squeaking noises. No screaming whatsoever. I had one big task on my hands and that was the last big push to get that giant unbelievable placenta out. I would never have imagined what a huge organ this is - so big with thick plasmic walls and a very long thick rubbery cord. It was like a cross between a brain and a giant squid. Then it was all over, and I was instructed to step out of the pool of bloody water. My brain was still floating out there in another galaxy; I really had to tell myself to step up with the right foot and to follow with the left. I felt weak and powerful in the same moment. I stood shocked in the shower, Corinna spraying me down, until she asked me if I wanted to wash my hair and I just said yes and stood there like a helpless idiot. "You have two hands!" she reminded me, snapping me back into reality. I hobbled to lie down beside you in the bed and have our first little cuddle. You looked so sweet and tiny, like a little baby robin. You got a gentle examination, all coming out perfect. Then into the very soft, cloth 'stork-sac' hanging scale: 2.81kg and 48cm - quite long and thin, and to me exactly the right size. I had estimated you would be between 3-3.5kg, and for my sake I am very happy you arrived on the smaller end of this range. From the time you announced that you were on your way (when my water broke on Tuesday afternoon, during my nap), to the moment I first saw your little face and eyes wide open, took a full 23 hours. Someone told me that in Indian hospitals, if women are not experiencing strong contractions within six hours of their water breaking, most doctors will order an induction. Not half an hour after you were born, you had your first little meal; you are an absolute natural at breastfeeding. I feel as though I have been hit by a bus. From my chest to my thighs feels completely bruised inside. But none of that matters, because here you are, a real boy, here on the outside world, and you are all healthy and beautiful and perfect. Born two hours and 45 minutes before the moon became completely full. Some short time later, Corinna's wonderful husband Peter brought me some soup and brown bread and cheese. I was still completely floating in another realm, and I just couldn't tear my eyes away from your sweet little self. We just stared into each other's eyes until you drifted off for a well-deserved nap. Only then could I come back to this earth enough to consider sharing the news. Today, August 9th, is that very auspicious full moon which peaked at 4:23pm. By coincidence or fate, it was at that very minute that I finally came around to my senses enough to call your Papa and tell him you have arrived safe and sound. You are our little miracle, our little Leo – the Sun God. We have no name for you yet... we have decided to wait until your Papa arrives and we can spend some days getting to know you a little, to see what name emerges. I mustered the energy to send out a dozen or so text messages, to let our support team know you have arrived, then switched of my phone and fell into a deep sleep. I vaguely recall dinner, some more gazing at you, then we both fell asleep with you snuggled on my chest. We woke a couple of times quietly in the night, and at sunrise I opened my eyes to your tiny beautiful self by my side. It has been a truly incredible two days in our lives. Thursday, August 10, 2006 Corinna has well and truly done her part for us, and normally we would have been sent home by now. But there is the little matter of our support team (your father and my mother) being stuck on the other sides of the planet. Peter and Corinna have very generously invited us to stay in their garden house until your Papa arrives from Switzerland. He is on his way, but has been caught up in a huge terrorist drama that is unfolding at Heathrow airport, where chemical explosives have been found, destined for ten US-bound planes. They say 400,000 people's flights will be affected today. What timing! What will happen to your Papa's flight is still a mystery, so I am sending a lot of energy out there to pray he arrives soon. Our little love hut behind the birthing centre (aka Corinna's house) is absolutely beautiful, and Corinna and Peter are taking extremely good care of us. Peter is a great chef! We spent almost all the day lying in bed together gazing into each other's eyes, I suppose falling in love with each other. You still haven't really cried more than once or twice, and even those cries are more like louder squeaks. I think I already understand your word for 'hungry' - it is just a special sort of ascending squeak. You eat for ten minutes and then sleep for three hours. You are all bundled up and I haven't really had the chance or nerve to fully inspect you yet, but I thought I should give you a bit of time. I cannot believe how sore my body feels, as though I have severe internal bruising. My belly is still huge and I can barely walk. Sitting is an even more painful topic. I don't know how long it will take for me to heal, but right now it is impossible to imagine that I ever will. We had our first visitors today. Two women from my prenatal class, Einav of Israel, and Tina from England, and Tina's husband Papai. They couldn't believe their eyes to see you out here so soon. There were other women in my class who were due to go through this before I was! Tina is due in November and seemed quite petrified that someone so big like you could have come out of someone like me (i.e. like her). The phone rang many times - your Mamu and Garffy in Switzerland are thrilled and Auntie Aruna is over the moon. They have been great support for me over these months and are gagging to see you. You have the ability to captivate all of us. We can just watch and watch you, lying here with me. You are so calm, so peaceful, so shanti. It seems you have no fear. Every time you wake, you just open your little eyes and look fuzzily around until you find me always there by your side. Friday, August 11, 2006 I am so enjoying these peaceful first few days with you. I think it will be an important part of your development that we are having such a quiet and beautiful place to bond. This room has big glass doors that open onto Corinna's lovely jungly garden. Once your Papa and Nana arrive, I hope we can plant a tree over your placenta in this garden. The cutest thing is your special little "I'm hungry" noise... it's not a cry at all but rather this ascending little squeak. I suppose you don't have too much chance to cry, as I am here to attend to your every need instantly. We are falling asleep side by side with your little fist wrapped tightly around my finger. This is a wonderful time I am having falling in love with you. The one big challenge is my own pain. My body still feels incredibly tender and bruised inside, and walking is difficult. I find it hard to find a comfortable sitting position that also gives me the strength and leverage to pick you up. At this moment it is difficult to imagine I might ever heal, but I suppose a lot of patience is necessary in this regard. We finally got word that your Papa arrived in Delhi this morning. He plans to catch the express train tomorrow morning and meet us here on Sunday. Sunday, August 13, 2006 Today was the big day to take you "home", which for us means the guesthouse at which we are staying in Goa for the post natal recovery period. Corinna gave me some strength this morning and reminded me that I've been doing it all here with you on my own, so not to worry. Her whole family is amazing. They have be so generous to let us stay here for almost four whole days after your arrival, because they knew I could not and should not be alone in this time. Finding Corinna and the natural birthing centre in Goa made it possible for me to consider having you in India, in the country both your father and I love so very much. As long as everything was going fine with the delivery, having you in a hospital, in any country, was out of the question for me to begin with, and the thought of delivering in an Indian hospital was inconceivable. In this country, where 19-million babies are born every year, I think it would be rare to find a doctor who thinks of these moments as particularly special for the mother, or who puts themselves in the woman's shoes. From what I gather from Indian women, there is an assembly line mentality and extremely high rates of both induction and caesarean. One woman I know was blindfolded and strapped down to the delivery bed, her baby taken out of her by C-section, then shown to her on a metal tray for a split second (with the nurse peeling back a corner of the blindfold) before the baby was whisked away into another room for hours. Any doctors I had seen during my pregnancy thought I was mad to want a natural birth. My gynaecologist in north India had said to me, "Oh, dear, midwifes and home deliveries are for the peasant women in the rural villages." tsk tsk. I hadn't taken any of the antibiotics these doctors had prescribed to me during my pregnancy, and only Corinna calmed my nerves about the 'low-lying placenta' drama they had incited by week 12; doctors said I would not be able to have a natural birth. Corinna was the only one who told me that a low-lying placenta was a completely normal situation, that the placenta rises as the baby grows, and that only by week 32 or so we should actually start to care about such details. In my situation, I was in India already, and was blessed by the Gods that there is a wonderful German Corinna who one day decided to work against all odds and establish a beautiful, natural place for babies to make their grand entrances in this country. By finding her, I got a midwife, a travel agent, a pre-natal teacher, a laundry woman, a photographer, a lactation expert, a chef (her husband!), a post-natal advisor, a psychologist, and a friend, all wrapped in one. Now that I have had this brilliant experience with her, I can say in truth that Corinna is even giving women in all corners of the world a wonderful reason to come to India, If only to have their babies here with her. The most uplifting trend I see is that Indian women themselves are now discovering Corinna, and embracing her philosophy and gentle methods, which are entirely unique in the Indian context. Babies are not born with their eyes closed; they seal their eyes shut when they are blinded by harsh lights in uncaring hospitals. And, contrary to popular belief, babies do not have to scream at birth; it is our duty to not give them any reason to scream at all. - from the diary of Crystal Sawyer, to her son, Tristan Avanindra, born August 9th, 2006, Assagao |
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We are in a safe place, you and I. I took a lot of care to decide where you would arrive, because I knew it would be very important to you that we are in the right kind of environment. I've always been scared and uncomfortable in the coldness and sterility of hospitals, and in truth I don't feel like this event has anything to do with being sick. So about two weeks ago, I took a very long train journey, 2040 km south from northern India (quite a mission at eight months pregnant, alone, and with quite a lot of luggage!), here to Goa, because I was very lucky to discover an amazing midwife here and her beautiful peaceful natural birthing centre. 
Corinna arrived with her bright eyes and knowing smile, and found me on the bed clinging to your teddy bear for comfort. She just jumped up there and sat right beside me like my best friend in the world. She did an examination, and told me it would still be awhile. She said I had the choice to stay at the guesthouse for as long as I wanted, and that I could come to her place whenever I felt ready. She knows it is not nice to go through all of this alone. "But what if I don't know when to come? How will I know when the time is right?" She assured me that I would most definitely know. Corinna left my place with all of your new clothes and diapers in hand, bound for her washing machine and dryer because you are coming too soon for me to have them all pre-washed. She really is amazing. Just before she departed, she witnessed my first contraction that came with a little pain... different than all the Braxton-Hicks contractions that have been preparing us for quite some time now. 
I am not really sure how long I should stay here alone. I just had another slightly stronger contraction and I can feel you are awake now and moving around a bit. I know there is a part of me that will miss the feeling of having you inside me - it is quite something impossible to describe. I have tried to make things as comfy as possible for you in there during this long journey we've already had together, and I must say knowing you are dancing around, or feeling all the times you've had the hiccups, has been quite amazing. So often as soon as I lay down at night to rest, you would wake up and then we could spend an hour or so talking together. I tried to give you a nice massage through my belly every night with some wonderful warm apricot oil... wow, another contraction... I am just trying to breathe through them as calmly as possible. 
I will always, always love you with every ounce of my soul, no matter what, and I will do my very best to guide you, and provide you with every opportunity I can, to help you grow and explore and develop the confidence to make the best decisions you can for your life. I know they won't always be good decisions - all of us has made many mistakes in our lives, but they will be the right decisions because the most important thing will be to learn from your mistakes. So, I hope I can provide you with some good values, and the tools you need to make those decisions, and the freedom and respect for you to choose what is right for you. Because already I know you are a very wise and special little soul, and you have already made many decisions while you have been growing inside me and preparing for this big world. 
In my ears, I could hear Corinna's voice giving me, over and over, the same instructions. To me, it seemed at these moments so very much to concentrate on all at the same time. "Hold yourself up (I kept slipping too low into the tub), breathe deeper, in through the nose, out through the mouth, deeply from your belly, use your voice to get through each contraction, keep your pelvis curved roundly to let the baby through, hold the position to give the baby enough space." By the time each contraction had subsided, I had again slipped down into the water (this would have been the best job for your Papa... to have been behind me holding me up; for days afterward my arms and shoulders would burn with the pain of supporting myself for so many hours). Some moments, I felt quite frustrated with all that had to be done, because the whole experience had become so intense, and the instructions kept arriving as though I wasn't doing enough right.