hannah and the moon: DAX

It’s called “hypnobirth”. No, it’s not a cult, or a fad. I won’t get into the details, but if done correctly, it can change a woman’s (and her family’s) birth experience drastically. After reading phrases like “mindfulness,” “painless birth,” and “I can’t believe it went so smoothly” in the reviews, of course I was going to try it. I'm always up for a new adventure.
My midwife was all for it - in fact, she lit up when I brought it into conversation. Her excitement gave me even more confidence that hypnobirthing was the right choice. Sylyna is one of the top midwives in this area. Everyone who knows her absolutely loves her and recommends her with celebrity status admiration, and she wanted to do a hypnobirth with me.
It was my third baby. First time using the hypnobirthing method, first time with a midwife, and the first time I was pregnant and alone. There were many unbelievable circumstances that changed my life, but having this baby alone was all my own choice. As you can imagine, my emotions were usually floating between functional and depressed for most of the pregnancy. Hypnobirthing gave me something to be excited about (other than holding my baby, of course). I did my kegel exercises, practiced breathing techniques, read every book, watched tons of births and classes online, meditated (well I tried, I listened to a hypnobirth audio and passed out five minutes into it) and imagined what this birth story would look like.
On a Monday afternoon, my midwife told me I was already 4 centimeters dilated at 37 weeks. I had been in an uncomfortable blur for a few days, so hearing that was a relief, not a surprise. “At this point,” Sylyna said, “you have two options: You can wait and see what happens, or you can do a tiny bit of encouraging.”
That night I stood in my dark kitchen with both hands on the counter as a contraction took over. Obviously my body was ready, even if that wasn't full labor yet. My girls were peacefully sleeping. My mom and doula/motherly friend and I had agreed we’d be ready by 8am. The contractions were very far apart and mildly strong, as usual. If I was going to help labor with a slight induction, that was the time. I decided to encourage the process a little with castor oil and sleep through the slowest part of it. I nonchalantly poured myself a shot glass with one tablespoon of the oil and imagined drinking rum or something nice; it was disgusting. Eating a few sticks of flavorless lip balm would have the same thick, greasy affect. I have a strong stomach, but that almost made me hurl. “The things I will do just for you,” I thought and rubbed my belly where the baby’s little foot liked to kick. (Read more about castor oil for to induce labor and it's affects in this article by doula Susannah Birch of Trimester Talk here.)
I’ve always said that contractions come like waves - shallow waters that lap up higher and higher until it swallows you completely, still aware of the people around you but still submerged in labor. Then suddenly you’re out again, breathing without trouble, resting in anticipation of the next wave. It was around midnight when I felt the "change" and waves rushing in. I wasn’t completely in the deep end of labor yet, but the shallow contractions were gone. Sometime later in the night, my eldest daughter emerged from her room and watched me perch myself onto the toilet (thanks you, Castor Oil), then waddle uncomfortably back to bed. I snuggled her little lavender scented head right under my chin and explained the plans for the next few days while I was resting at the hospital. She fell asleep, unconcerned, and I began to cry quietly. It was my last night as a mommy of only two. Would they all be ok? Would the girls adjust? How were we going to make this work? The sentiments vanished when I felt another contraction wrapping over me, stronger than the last ones. I focused on sleeping.
I took these photos before my mom drove us and my doula to the hospital:

7:30am with Leila, age 3.

Abrielle, age 1, still asleep.

I knew five minutes after waking up and walking around the house that this was IT. I was submerged in each contraction and using deep breaths to get me through. I only left a few things to do, get dressed, brush my teeth and tie up my hair, little makeup, pack my bathroom things, grab my other bags, and get in the car with my mom and doula. During the drive, the contractions intensified and I needed to feel more in control. I was sprawled out in the back seat, using my hypnosis audio by Sophie Fletcher (from her book, Mindful Hypnobirthing: Hypnosis and Mindfulness Techniques for a Calm and Confident Birth) to get through the pressure, but I was amazed at how the tightening of my belly could break my focus. I changed to a technique called "deep breathing". Attempting to expand my diaphragm against the tightening completely took away the feeling of “pain” that we all associate with contractions.
We made it to the hospital 25 minutes later, right as my birth photographer/beloved friend arrived. I had NOT anticipated one very important thing: registration. The hospital I had birthed my first two babies in registered me while I labored in the delivery room. I didn't think we'd be stuck in the emergency room. Being a people pleaser, I refrained from yelling at the woman at her desk who could clearly see my contractions coming quickly. I even smiled a “thank you” as my team wheeled me frantically away. I was getting hotter, which (for me) meant I was very close to crowning. My awareness of everything was disappearing as each contraction came in faster and faster. The nurses put me into a type of waiting room, where I was hooked up to a monitor and then immediately put into a wheelchair and transferred to the delivery room. The delivery room was being cleaned. As hilarious as it sounds, I was perfectly fine. I barely remember any of this, other than saying, “No, that’s fine.” I didn’t care where I was when the baby arrived.
The baby’s head was so low, I kept my hips forward because of the pressure and pictured my water breaking all over the nurse sitting in front of me. Finally in the delivery bed and using a birthing bar, I used the deep breathing technique to the max. Sylyna sat near me with her arms wrapped around herself, comfortable and calm, while my my mom and friends stood around me with cold towels and cameras snapping. I ripped off claustrophobic hospital gown, concentrated on expanding my diaphragm against the contractions, and (apparently) told my mother to stop mimicking the deep breaths to help me because I found it annoying.
Then I had a contraction that wouldn’t let me deep breathe through it. The tightening added pressure and I couldn’t inhale any deeper to relieve it. But as I exhaled, I realized the baby was coming out. Depending on your birth, the "coming out" can be a long process. For me, it meant the baby would be born within minutes. The exhale turned into an easy "J-breath", another hypnobirthing technique I had been practicing. Someone asked excitedly, “Are you pushing??” I didn’t really know how to answer, because I wasn’t “pushing,” but Sylyna simply said, “Yes, she is.”
It felt like the baby was being squeezed out. I was not pushing AT ALL. I was “breathing” the baby out. I took in more air and exhaled into a J-breath again, breathing the baby down and out. The nurse scrambled to get underneath me and check me. “Don’t push,” she said, “Wait just a min-“ My water broke all over her hand, arm, and up her shoulder. The pressure burst into what is known as the “ring of fire”, and is the most intense part of it all for me. I recognized the feeling and let out a shriek. “Don’t scream,” Sylyna said, suddenly right in front of me, barely visible through my hazy, underwater, tunnel-vision. I knew what she meant - screaming does the opposite affect during labor, and actually constricts the progress. (Read more about that and other things to avoid during labor here.) I took in more air and exhaled quietly and long.
“He’s right there, Hannah, you can catch him now. Put your hands down.” At first I didn’t believe Sylyna. Was I allowed to catch him? Then I quickly shot my hand down and gently cupped a fuzzy little baby boy as he slipped into my grasp, first with his head into my hands, then shoulders, then a slight twist as his purply scrunchy body came right up into my arms (with Sylyna’s help, of course). The first thing I saw was his sweet little face and immediately saw his father. And he was perfect. I even did a quick mental APGAR of him myself just to make sure.

Photo credit: Patricia Forney, edited by myself.

We spent the first hour snuggling up to each other after what I consider an incredibly smooth labor.
“I can’t believe it’s already over,” I said, “I want to do it again!” Everyone laughed at me, but I was serious. I had geared up for much worse. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was PAINLESS. Of course it was uncomfortable and of course there were intense parts - it was labor. But I will always use and recommend hypnobirthing from now on. I’ll do it at home next time to get uninterrupted meditations.
Baby Boy was born at 11:26am (three and a half hours after leaving my house) on a Tuesday, weighing 7 pounds and 3 ounces, and 19 inches long. We rested in the hospital with my mom for two or three nights. He wasn’t named Dax until the second day, and even then I was still contemplating other names before writing “Dax” on his paperwork. Now, he’s my Daxie, and he’s one year old. He may not be a baby anymore, but he’ll always be my hypnobaby.