Five years ago I gave birth to my daughter Nicole.  We did as most modern couples today do and signed up for a partner coaching birth course and learned the endless ways the partner and others can assist the woman in labor.  After taking a course in graduate school called “The Sociology of Reproduction” my understanding of childbirth was revolutionized and I knew that I would someday have my baby at home (for the academic and research based reasons for this decision check out this resource).

My due date was October 14th.  Our friend Joanie arrived from California at noon on October 12th and I went into labor at 6 pm (my partner – Colleen’s birthday). What great timing! 

We labored through the night carefully keeping track of the contractions until we got confused as to how to time them correctly.  Ha! We called our midwife and described how things were going.  She told us to quit timing and get some rest. She lived around the corner and came over that evening.  My friend Mavis came over that evening (the 13th) and before we knew it there was a “village” of women tending to me.  I felt so loved and cared for.  During one period I was on the bed and for each contraction my team kicked into gear.  “Here it comes!”  One person rubbed my back, another held my right hand, the other my left hand, someone helped me vocalize, another was doing the cheerleader thing “you can do this, way to go Jeanine . . .”  Then we’d all collapse on the bed together and rest.

I was “progressing slowly and steadily” as my midwives kept telling me.  The baby was regularly monitored and all was well.

I was open and receptive to ideas.  “Sit on the ball Jeanine.”  “Sure.”

“Take a shower Jeanine.”  “Okay.”

“Walk around the living room.”  “I can do that.”

On October 14th, my partner pulled me aside.  “Jeanine, I feel like you are inhibited.  What do you need to just let go?  What would be helpful?”

Moments later one of the midwives pulled me aside and said “Jeanine, the one thing you haven’t done yet is labor alone.  Why don’t you do that for awhile.”

“Sure!”

The change was stunning for me.  Only moments earlier I couldn’t walk on my own.  I needed someone to support me – or so I thought.  Yet once everyone was downstairs and I was upstairs alone I went into the office and grabbed a chair.  Carried it into the bed room.  Put on Andrea Bocelli on the CD player and sat on the office chair.  Being alone it was as if all my inner strength and wisdom kicked in and I knew exactly what to do.  After a decade of meditation – I knew how to be present with each contraction.  I breathed in and  simply “felt” the tightness and pressure.  I breathed out and simply “felt” the tightness and pressure.  Rather than moving away from the “pain” through distraction and a focus on others – I moved directly toward the “pain” and simply embraced it with mindful presence.  And each time I did this – I felt so empowered and inspired.  “I can do this!”  “Yes!”  So I started consciously saying yes as I was breathing with each contraction.  And I imagined opening to the baby – and Nicki coming into the world.

By breathing and really connecting to the feeling of tightness I was simply experiencing the physical sensations rather than getting caught up in a story about the sensations.  In doing this the pain was bearable.  It was just tightness – nothing more.  Nothing less.

Nicki was born at 3:58 am on October 15th.  It was the most beautiful and tender moment of my life.  And I now feel like I can do anything!

If I were to extrapolate a lesson from my experience to others – especially introverts – it would be to take your space to experience your own labor.  Privacy and solitude are a good thing – they allow us to tap into our inner wisdom.