Unassisted Birth: A Father's Experience

Today is my son's fifth birthday.

He had an amazing birth, picture-perfect. We had an unassisted homebirth, a "free-birth", and it was a transformative experience for us. As I thought about that experience today, I realized that I had written a couple of pages in my journal about it, and felt that by sharing it here, perhaps it would be inspiring to others. This is a condensed version. I won't subject you to the full rambling entry.

As I fell asleep on the night of the 23rd, I was feeling grateful, very blessed. We had just made a big leap in our lives, from living in a house to living in a tiny camper-trailer, trying to live simpler and save some cash. It was hard, but it was good. We hauled all of our own drinking water and had access to a frost-free valve and hose about 50 feet away. One extension cord (50 feet long) gave us power to run the tiny fridge and 4 light bulbs, and we had gas stove for heating water and cooking. Solar showers kept us clean, and we used a sawdust toilet (see the Humanure book) instead of the trailer toilet tank.

We knew we wanted to give birth without a doula or midwife and that felt right to us, so we were fully prepared with knowledge and we had faith that this was the way it ought to be. No outside people, no monitors or artificial lights, no dogma, and no fear.

We set up the birth tub (an Aqua Doula) outside and waited anxiously for the water temperature to get up to comfort level. You're supposed to fill it with warm water, but we had no way of heating that much water other than by the sun, so we filled it with the hose and plugged it in and hoped for the best. It takes a long time for that much water to warm up...

I wasn't even thinking about the possibility of the birth happening anytime soon, so when I went to sleep, I was just wishing that I didn't have to get up so early for work. When my wife woke me up at about 2:30 am, I felt that what she was feeling was only the beginning of a long birth process, and that I should just sleep until things got a little heavier. I did doze off for a while, and then my wife woke me again by saying, "I really think we'll get to meet our baby soon..."

Wow! So I make us some tea and try to wake up. I'm having a hard time accepting the fact that this is really happening. Right now. I run out and check the water temperature and it's perfect. I feel aware and alert, excited, yet cautious. It seems now to have passed quickly, but at the time there was no time. Everything else ceased to exist.

My wife had made me a list of things to do or say to her during the birth, so I read it over again and tried to reassure myself that I was as ready as she was. We hung out inside at first, but then she wanted to be outside to walk and move freely. The pre-dawn mist was breathtaking, and as I looked towards the glow of the sun over the horizon, I knew that I was empty of fear about this birth, that something miraculous was about to happen.

Mama feels sick and needs a bowl. As she throws up, I remember that nausea and transition kind of go together. How could we be that far along already? It's time to get in the tub.

I bring out towels and robe, water and tea. The warm water felt soothing, and a nice contrast to the cool foggy morning. A couple more contractions (rushes) came and went and Mama started to get vocal. I attempted to talk lovingly to her, but she just needed me to shut up and let her do her thing without words or logic or focusing outside of herself.

At one point she calls out to God, and that moment was so perfect, so divine. The water, the air, the mist, the sunrise, a man and a woman, a baby, and the Creator. I heard her cry throughout the universe and knew it was sacred.

I go inside and wake up our 5 year old and dress her and try to prepare her for what's happening outside. She started chattering excitedly, asking tons of questions, but soon it clicked that this was it, and she settled down and focused on Mama.

All of sudden the head comes down, and I reach down to feel my child's head. It's really happening! Mama was peaking, having intense sensations, almost over the top, and then the head is out. A pause, and then the body seems to shoot out into the water and Mama's hands are lifting the baby to the surface. As soon as his face was out of the water, he drew a breath, and our son was here.

We go inside and light some candles and stare at him. He's so mellow and patient and pink. We hadn't actually checked for gender yet, so I peeked and then told the girls that a little man was here. We oiled his buns so the meconium wouldn't stick, and put a tiny cloth diaper on. He wasn't really into nursing right away, so we just held him and waited for the placenta to come. It seemed to take forever, then something shifted and it slid the rest of the way out. We put it in a bowl next to us until the umbilical cord was cold, then I bound and cut the cord. I coiled it on a piece of paper to dry, turned around, and saw my wife and daughter and infant son on the bed. How can we be done already? Less than 4 hours after it began, we're holding our baby.

Amazing. Perfect. Divine.

We stare at him for hours. I don't know how we lived without him. It's as if a long-lost family member returned at last. He latches on and nurses like a seasoned pro, and all is right with our world.

Happy Birthday, Topaz.