The Birth of Maria Alexia
The truth is there were signs - lots of them and for a long time. Even in theory, we always wanted more than two children though we never put a definitive number on it. In my mind three kids always sounded like a good idea. Even four - if parenthood turned out to be a total heaven on Earth. Two children down, however, I felt completely spent and done with the whole baby-having thing. My firstborn was hard and my second-born was harder yet. In retrospect, it’s sad and somewhat heart-wrenching how clumsy of a mother I was the first and second time around. I wasn’t raised for motherhood or for homemaking, I was raised for higher goals. Only now, the third time around, I feel like mothering has become natural. Just to think I may have never made it to this point. Because the other truth is - right before our little girl appeared as a speck in my uterus - I decided I was done with specks in my uterus. Alas, the Universe had other plans for me.
It really started with a vision. There was one ordinary and unmemorable evening, shortly after our family was reunited from the seven months long separation. We were playing on the bedroom floor - all four of us. The kids were running amok, papa was trying to run the kids and I was just sitting there taking in the beautiful chaos. Suddenly, I thought that it wouldn’t be so crazy if at that very moment I had a tiny nursing baby in my arms. Suddenly, it seemed like something I would manage. That same evening Alex brought up the idea of a third baby too - we were on the same wavelength. As soon as we started talking about it, however, we stopped ourselves - our youngest had just turned one two months before. It was crazy to think of another baby - we still had one on our hands. Plus, I hadn’t even had a period since G was born anyway. Literally, days later my period came.
There were other “signs” too - mostly involving people around us having third babies and me swooning at their sight with half-envy and half-relief that it wasn’t mine. It was confusing. Until one day early Fall I felt sure - no more kids. I realized I was never going to be that great at the mothering thing and to bring a third baby into this lack of skill and competence would not be fair to the child and to the rest of us. As soon as I realized that I was firm in my decision, I found out the decision had actually been made for me - she was already here. God found a way to put an end to my confusing back-and-forth and whether it was a faulty condom or the miscalculations on my part regarding my cycle (probably, the latter) it was done and too late to change anything.
Thus came the pregnancy. I never cease to be amazed at how different all three pregnancies had been. My first pregnancy was a walk in the park. I was so fit I never felt “heavy with the child” - it was more like feeling the wings behind my back. The night before I went into my first labor I packed my gym bag for the advanced step class I still took several times a week. I was very strong and I needed to be to endure my very first and very long labor and birth. The second time my fitness level declined considerably, but I was still doing alright. I could still proclaim things like “Pregnancy is not a handicap!” Though I gained much more weight and was slower and the nights were much worse, it was nothing like my third time. This third time around I stopped believing that pregnancy was not a handicap. Now I believe firmly that it is - it’s just that I got kind of lucky the first two times thanks to being of above average fitness level. Many women don’t run or do step, however, and I now feel bad for all womankind. Because this last pregnancy kicked my ass from its beginning to its end. I have yet to fit into any of my normal clothes when last two times it took maybe a week. But that’s not even important. I felt like an invalid my entire third pregnancy. I don’t even know how I made it through. I had to lie down almost every morning and definitely every afternoon, because most of the time I either couldn’t breathe or felt like my heart would jump out of my chest if I didn’t get horizontal immediately. And there was the constant unbearable fatigue. I am still thankful for the fact that my kids can play well on their own for exactly the amount of time I needed to close my eyes and come back out a living breathing creature of a somewhat human kind.
Then the last month of the pregnancy came. With it came The Fear. When I used to think about birth during my first pregnancy I felt what I would describe as a general nervousness. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into and it really helped that some women compared birth to running a marathon. I calmed myself by saying if I did one I could certainly do another. And I did it and it was in many ways like the last dreadful miles of a marathon. The Fear came the second time around. It was manageable throughout the pregnancy, but it completely consumed me at the moment of my second birth. Beside the fact that the birth itself was hard, painful, intense and very fast, all I think about now when I think of that experience is how scared I was then. I left that birth feeling extremely dissatisfied with myself and with the whole experience. It overwhelmed and made me feel like I was a total coward. In some ways I looked to this third birth to help me get my self-confidence back, to cure me in some way. I didn’t believe in myself anymore and I needed to believe again. The Fear hit me hard towards the end this time and I didn’t know what to do with it. I had two amazing natural births. I never once thought of or sought pain relief - I managed each time. But in anticipation of the third birth, I developed panic attacks. Second time around killed my faith in birth being safe and enjoyable. Okay, so safe maybe I could still believe, but enjoyable? Empowering? Maybe for someone else, but not for me. Even remembering my first birth - a very empowering experience - wasn’t helping.
I brought these thoughts up with my midwife. Before I say anything else, I have to say that the midwife, Natasha, had a very laissez-faire approach to care during pregnancy. She is the only professionally-trained home-birth midwife in the country of Belarus (trained with an American lay-midwife in Moscow) and who has years of practice as a hospital midwife at one of Minsk’s leading birth centers. My first issue with her was that logistically she would probably not make it to my birth. But it sort of became the least of my concern after I’ve gotten to know her. She turned out to be a bit disorganized, I had to chase her down in the beginning to get her to give me prenatal care, since I wasn’t getting it anywhere else (by choice). I was a bit nervous about her lackadaisical attitude.
On the other hand, there were things I liked about her too. One big thing was that Natasha was only five years older than me - I felt like we were peers in some ways. I didn’t look up to her or felt the need to treat her as a mother figure like I did with my midwife Pam the second time I was pregnant. I didn’t get attached to her emotionally, but toward the end of the pregnancy we did settle into a sort of an easy friendship. So when I brought up The Fear, Natasha knew what to say to me to give me perspective and most importantly strength. One thing the four midwives I have encountered in my journey into motherhood had in common was this amazing knowledge of women and what to say to give the peace of mind back that could get lost from time to time. Countless times I would go into appointments my head full of crazy, and leave with my head set straight and secure on my shoulders. Till this day I feel blessed for being led to midwives as my caregivers in pregnancies.
The last month of this pregnancy unexpectedly turned out to be the best month. I was no longer wrought with regrets, fears and doubts. I even stopped feeling “heavy with the child” - the baby engaged and I could suddenly breathe again. I no longer felt run down and heavy all day and all night long. There was another reason I could breathe again - our wonderful new nanny, who was a godsend to me. I no longer have trouble admitting I don’t have what it takes to be a domestic goddess and it is fine with me. I need help and thank God I can have this help now. The most peaceful month of this pregnancy reminded me of the last trimester of my second pregnancy - full of walks around our sweet neighborhood, daily swims in the pool, wonderful peace in our home. There’s something about the finish line - like the calm before the storm - right before baby comes and wreaks havoc onto your wonderful life.
Not all worries were magically alleviated, however. There were still questions on my mind. Like what to do with the kids during the birth. I didn’t have a desire so common for most home-birthers to have kids witness the birth. I couldn’t even picture it. Alex and I never seemed to find a moment to discuss and figure out what to do about all that. We would get as far as Alex saying “I am sure you’ll give birth at night like the last two times” (one was born at 6am, the other 5:45am) and then we would get interrupted and the conversation would be over for a while. It would have been easiest to involve my parents of course, except we didn’t want them to know that we were birthing at home again. My mother acted as though we were heading to the birth center and she would come over to take care of the kids. I didn’t contradict her, but I hoped there would be time for us to take the kids to her house instead (an hour round-trip, which also made me nervous, since I expected another very fast birth). Just in case, I talked to my mom’s cousin, my good friend Inna, who happens to adore my kids and she promised that if she didn’t have to work she’d be there to help with the kids. Another friend Oxana made the same promise. So it didn’t look too hopeless, but it still worried me.
The other worry was having a witness. We had thought that to get a birth certificate for a home birth (it’s done through courts here) we would need to present a witness. Shortly before the birth, I found out that it would be sufficient to have a “spravka” - a document that states that I was pregnant - in place of a witness. I went to a private clinic at almost 40 weeks pregnant and got the needed “spravka”. (That was my only visit to an ob/gyn and a very unpleasant one at that. In the 15 minutes of the visit she tried very hard to get me to freak out over various things from swollen ankles to not having done any ultrasounds. I am once again thankful for midwifery care I’ve always had.) So the witness thing seemed to be taken care of barely in time for the birth.
There were other worries too, like getting paperwork done for my Nicholas for his first school year, his passing of the entrance exams to the music school, etc. One more unpleasant worry raised its ugly head two weeks before the due date… We were to have our hot water shut off due to the repairs that needed to be done to our water tanks for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. Right through the due date. I actually sobbed when I read the announcement. No shower for my labor?! Are you kidding? I felt devastated. Natasha once again found words to help me deal. She looked at me and said “Women gave birth in concentration camps. Don’t let these things take away from your experience.” Her words worked magic. I accepted the hot water (or lack of thereof) fate.
Finally, one not-so-unpleasant worry was that the new baby was due on its big brother’s sixth birthday. Alex was all about saving on birthday cakes for years to come, but I thought everyone should have a birthday of their own. My second-born convinced me of that when he chose not to be born on his mama’s 30th birthday, but three days later. It wouldn’t be the worst thing of course, but I knew Nicholas worried that he wouldn’t be the first to have a birthday and I didn’t want him to feel any disdain towards his sister for that. And the chances of the baby being born on N’s birthday were pretty high - Nicholas was born two days before his due date, Gregory - one day before the due date. So if that pattern were to continue, this baby could be born right on its due date.
This baby seemed to be very considerate of his family’s needs and feelings, however. June 8th came and we got our hot water back! My smart baby had waited to make sure mama would get some nice labor relief in the shower. Now we just had to get through June 9th - her brother’s birthday and, incidentally, her due date - and we’d be good as gold. Not so likely, I realized, as I lay there at 6 in the morning on June 9th feeling contractions coming on due to what seemed like an upset stomach. I had those every night along with an upset stomach for weeks, leading me to believe I’d have another fast labor, but to have them in the morning? - That was a first! I knew something was brewing.
I was determined, however, to give Nicholas a small one but a birthday celebration nevertheless. My mom had already started her teaching vacation and she had been coming every day for a few days to play with the kids (frankly, making me worry that I’d go into labor right when she was there and what then?). Mom and dad were supposed to come over in the evening on N’s birthday, so my morning contractions at first reassured me that there was plenty of time to have a nice and fast birth *before* my parents would get there, except I didn’t want to have the baby on N’s birthday! Therefore I decided I would rather have the birth that *night* after the celebration and shortly or any time after midnight and THAT would do it. After I made this plan, I felt at ease. Contractions kept coming on and kept forcing me to the toilet, but I didn’t give them any mind. Nanny came at 9 am, we worked on some things around our home. Later in the morning I took the kids and we went outside to go to the children’s clinic to pick up N’s paperwork for school, then to the store to buy some candy, and then to N’s kindergarten to distribute the candy to his friends in honor of his birthday. While I was on this long walk around all these places in our neighborhood, the contractions completely stopped. We came home, ate lunch and went for our daily nap. I snoozed for about two hours without being bothered with anything - no tummy troubles of any sort. I really wondered about the power of mind over body.
Except in the evening the contractions returned. Together with my parents - making me quite nervous once again. But we celebrated in style. My parents left. We cleaned up and turned in for the night. I knew the baby would come that night. The birthday boy was happy and it was the last evening when little G glanced at my enormous belly and asked “Mama, when’s our baby gonna come out?”
Imagine my utter amazement to find out that for the first night in my entire pregnancy I actually slept through without trotting to the potty or suffering from bursts of insomnia. I slept like a dead woman not cracking a lid till 6 am. My body was storing up energy for birth and I knew it as soon as I woke. Shortly after 6 am by the time I completely came to a contraction hit. It was very noticeable and unmistakable. I went to the bathroom, checked the dishwasher in the kitchen and went to lie back down. I wasn’t completely sure that it was labor, after all it could be another day like the day before. I lied down and another one hit. And so they were coming and coming. The breaks in between were quite long, so I didn’t have any sense of urgency. By the time we made and ate breakfast, shortly after 8am I had no more doubts that it was labor and I knew I couldn’t focus on contractions and the kids at the same time. I called my mom and asked if we could bring the kids for the day. Alex had been sick and working from home for a couple of days, so I used that as an excuse to get the kids over to her and to alleviate any suspicion my mom might have had. I packed the kids’ bag and off they went. Before Alex left I called Natasha the midwife and told her what was happening. I texted her the night before describing the lazy contractions of N’s birthday and the upset stomach (I said I wasn’t sure which was causing which), so she was on an alert. But that particular morning of my call she had an exam at 10am, so she told me to hang in there and that she would get there as soon as she was done.
Alex left with the kids and I was all alone. I cleaned up the kitchen and whatever else was there to do - not much since the day before we did pretty much everything there was to do as far as house chores. I was sort of wondering around aimlessly until Alex came back. While he was gone I tried to time the contractions kind of reluctantly, I almost didn’t care to know. They were coming exactly 10 minutes apart and I couldn’t make myself time how long they were. Alex was back probably around 10 am. And about half hour later the door bell rang again! I thought “Oh no, this couldn’t be my dad coming to see what was going on, could it?” Ha. No, it was Natasha! She managed to pass her exam and get to our house in 45 minutes which isn’t short of a small miracle for a city the size of Mink.
I updated her on contractions. By then they were quite unpleasant, but rare enough that I didn’t mind them. In other words, I didn’t look like I was in labor and I was very relaxed mostly because I didn’t have anything to do - an unusual thing for me! We chatted and had tea. Then I remembered that I was never able to open the file Natasha sent me that listed all the medical/birth supplies I would need. Alex wasn’t thrilled that I literally waited till the last moment to address such an important issue… well, he went off to the pharmacy and to the store to buy everything. I remember feeling really annoyed that he was totally dawdling like nothing unusual was happening, like it was just another day (he’s a great dawdler) so after he finally left and dared to tell me he would be taking a trolley to the pharmacy instead of driving - making me quite angry - I announced to Natasha that I was going to have this baby while he was gone just to spite him. She rolled her eyes at me and laughed. Clearly my labor wasn’t labor enough for that pronouncement to come true.
We sat on the floor and chatted about something insignificant like furniture. I felt kind of bored, I was so not used to being at home with nothing to do. I realized it was the first time I sat down since breakfast and it showed - the contractions slowed, but were still unpleasant. I sorted some baby clothes to relieve the boredom. Natasha looked at our furniture catalogues, then Alex was back. We looked at all the stuff he brought and didn’t bring. He didn’t feel like going to any other stores and I was too distracted to insist that he go get the rest of the supplies. My contractions were really far apart by then. Alex asked Natasha if she was planning to stay the day in a kind of a tone that made him sound like he was worried that we were keeping her from something. She said she wasn’t going anywhere and then told us that her third baby was coming via a very slow labor when suddenly the labor sped up and he was born within an hour. I liked hearing that, but I still didn’t like that labor wasn’t changing to anything more significant.
So I suggested Alex and I go for a walk. Natasha looked a bit surprised, but didn’t say anything. I got dressed and we decided to go to N’s kindergarten to pick up his graduation DVD and some paperwork. It was probably just after 2 pm. The kindergarten is about a 10 minute walk from our house. The contractions definitely picked up during the walk. I found it funny that all the people we met had no idea I was in labor - I was just a huge pregnant woman to them. I keep wondering what would N’s teachers say if they knew our baby was so close to being born when I was talking to them that day. Probably less than an hour later we were home - I had wanted to walk longer but it started to rain. Natasha was asleep on the couch.
The contractions became more intense during the walk and also more frequent. The whole day I found it the best to sit on the toilet during the contractions and I headed for the toilet as soon as we were home. Except this time our upstairs neighbors started drilling the floor in their bathroom right above my head! It was quite annoying and I had to leave the toilet. Finally, I knew it was time for The Shower. After making sure my birth team had something to eat (it’s been a while since our mid-morning tea and by then it was after 3pm), without further delay I got into the tub, pulled the curtain and turned the shower on. The thought that the hot water wouldn’t run out like it did in our house at the time of G’s birth was heavenly.
The contractions, however, didn’t let any heavenly thoughts linger. They were making me work and concentrate. I plugged the tub drain to fill it with water as the contractions were quite intense when I was standing up. I thought maybe sitting in a tub full of water would help a bit. The only problem was that our tub was narrow and it was challenging to tailor-sit which is what I wanted to do. I knew that if I reclined and just stretched my legs forward it would be worse. So I tailor-sat sideways for a while. It was becoming painful, but I figured out a trick. When a contraction hit I would take the showerhead into my hand, turn the water hot and aim it at the top of my stomach thus creating two sources of pain to concentrate on and making it somehow easier to deal. Alex came in checking on me. I don’t know what I was thinking but I told him that in order to entertain Natasha while she waited he might want to show her the movie “Babies”. He didn’t say anything about that and eventually left. Perhaps I was talking crazy. Then Natasha came in to check on me. She said kind of hypothetically “Are you in that much pain that you need the water already?” It made me wonder whether I was making too much of it and resorting to the shower relief too soon in my labor, but then I decided it didn’t matter - it was working and I wasn’t getting out. I asked Natasha how women in Minsk possibly gave birth in these narrow tubs (and ours was actually much bigger than the typical size ones) and she showed me how - by reclining back and throwing one leg over the side of the tub. That seemed like a horrifying position to me and I wrote it off immediately. The idea of birthing in the water never appealed to me anyway.
Natasha offered to check me. She had mentioned that she would check me earlier and I didn’t like the idea. In my previous two pregnancies I was never checked, not till the baby’s head was crowning if you want to call that “checking.” So I said I didn’t want to have her check. She left. Not sure what she made of that, but once again it didn’t matter at that point.
After spending a while in a tailor-sit in my narrow bathtub I started worrying that my legs would fall asleep. By that point my labor became the exact intense labor I had with Gregory. One thing was missing, however, - The Fear. Yes! I was in pain, it sucked, the contractions were total bitches, but I had no fear and no panic. It was amazing! I was working through them, focusing and concentrating - I was LABORING. I didn’t feel like my body was in control and doing something evil to me - *I* was in charge! I knew that if I got up from tailor sit, contractions would become killer, but I also knew that I needed to get up. Just in case the baby crowned (which I didn’t expect to happen for a while, but just in case!) I didn’t want my legs to be incapacitated. So I got up. The contraction that came immediately as I started moving really was killer, but I managed to put myself into a different sitting position with my trusty shower head in hand. This time I sat with my legs forward and my body leaned forward and belly squished in between my legs. I kept turning up the hot water when the contractions would come. I also remembered to let water out of the tub once in a while in order not to flood the bathroom. Pretty soon hot water wasn’t enough. That’s when I started doing my favorite Ina May’s horse-lips. I don’t think I did horse-lips in my first labor, but second time and this last time - I don’t know how I could have managed without them. With every new contraction I horse-lipped myself through. What a great technique it turned out to be for me.
After some time sitting like that (maybe a handful of contractions) I knew it was time to get the show on the road. It was time to get up. To get out. I knew it would totally suck, but I knew that sitting there in the tub was only delaying the culmination. Last time as soon as I left the shower the baby started being born. This time I knew it would be the same. I was afraid it would be the same. It was. I barely managed to wipe myself more or less between the now-awful contractions and then I realized that I was terribly hungry. Silly me. I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of bread with yummy liver spread my mom made. Did I really think I would eat it? I actually did manage to take a bite before another killer one hit and I somehow made it to the bedroom with a piece of bread still in my hand and my mouth full. I was determined to eat it. My body, however, had other plans. I lied down and the contraction that came confused the heck out of me. It felt exactly like the last contractions before G was born, but it didn’t feel “pushy” per se. “Already?!” I thought. But I needed to eat my bread! I thought of calling Natasha to help her clarify my doubts, but then changed my mind. Two more came just like that. I had no fear but I also knew it was time to call Natasha. Hesitantly, I did. When she came in and saw me on our spotless white sheets the first thing she said was “You’re going to birth HERE?!” I knew that there was a plastic table cloth under the sheet (we don’t own any other color sheets but white), but before I could explain these things to her, she ran out to grab her suitcase. By the time she came back into the room, I had turned onto my fours and leaned on a pile of pillows I myself managed to stack.
The next contraction was spent with me horse-lipping loudly into the pillows and moaning in between and with Natasha trying to spread some soak-pads underneath me to protect the bed. The contraction after that brought out the head. I hated doing it but this time I knew it had to be done and didn’t try asking anyone to “put the baby back” like the last time. Deep in my moans I half-heard Natasha telling me to take a deep breath on the next one and push out my baby. I felt Alex rubbing my back and telling me the worst part was over. Not really: birthing the body was just as hard as birthing the head for some reason. And just like that I was DONE. The first two times I had to be reminded to turn over and look at my babies. This time I started turning immediately after I pushed her out and heard her cries - Natasha had to slow me down to help me since I happened to forget there was also a cord involved in between me, the baby and my legs. In the midst of my slow and painful turning Natasha exclaimed “It’s a GIRL!” and laughed. She always found it funny that I wanted a third boy so much. For a second I felt annoyed that she didn’t let Alex announce the sex, but then it didn’t make any difference. I HAD A DAUGHTER.
I grabbed my baby, put her on my chest with the two pairs of helping hands surrounding us. She was blue though she had cried immediately after the birth (Alex later told me Natasha suctioned her right away). I forgot it took time for them to pink up. And she pooped on me right away. The only thing I didn’t like about that was that we would never know her exact weight at birth. She was born at 4:48pm, less than two hours after we came back from the walk. Just minutes after the birth we were all chatting and laughing. I felt so happy and fulfilled with the whole experience. I couldn’t believe we had done - my daughter and I we were quite a team. I knew Mother of God was there with us, I knew every prayer had been answered. Every one. I was cured from my second birth. I was a mother of a daughter. It was a new beautiful life with no more doubts and no more regrets. I could move forward as a mother, as a woman.
We had to wait a while for my placenta to be born this time. After sitting there and waiting for a while, I had to get on my fours again to get it to move out of me once and for all. Our girl was weighed and came in at 3970 though I claim 4 kilos (8 lbs 13 oz) considering the poop. I always wanted a big baby and though she wasn’t that big, she was bigger than both her brothers. She was also longer - 56 cm.
Natasha hung out with us for a long while. By the time she was ready to leave it was well after 7pm. Alex drove her home and then went to pick up the boys. In the meantime, I called my mother. She cried and said she knew it was happening when Alex brought the boys with the giant bag (I really should learn to pack small some day). I texted my friend Amy with the good news - I texted her earlier in the day to let her know of labor beginning in the morning and she was praying for me all day. After a couple more texts I decided to put all that aside and enjoy my new daughter. I didn’t need to fall in love - I had been for a long time already. She came and made my life complete. I - we - were now whole.
The boys all came home shortly. They were both excited, though there was a sense of bewilderment to Gregory’s excitement and a sense of this new genuine love to Nicholas’s. Immediately after birth I called her Masha. Nicholas came calling her Arina. The girl would remain nameless for quite a while I read the boys a bedtime story and we went to sleep with a new person in my bed instead of my belly. Yes, we were whole.
It really started with a vision. There was one ordinary and unmemorable evening, shortly after our family was reunited from the seven months long separation. We were playing on the bedroom floor - all four of us. The kids were running amok, papa was trying to run the kids and I was just sitting there taking in the beautiful chaos. Suddenly, I thought that it wouldn’t be so crazy if at that very moment I had a tiny nursing baby in my arms. Suddenly, it seemed like something I would manage. That same evening Alex brought up the idea of a third baby too - we were on the same wavelength. As soon as we started talking about it, however, we stopped ourselves - our youngest had just turned one two months before. It was crazy to think of another baby - we still had one on our hands. Plus, I hadn’t even had a period since G was born anyway. Literally, days later my period came.
There were other “signs” too - mostly involving people around us having third babies and me swooning at their sight with half-envy and half-relief that it wasn’t mine. It was confusing. Until one day early Fall I felt sure - no more kids. I realized I was never going to be that great at the mothering thing and to bring a third baby into this lack of skill and competence would not be fair to the child and to the rest of us. As soon as I realized that I was firm in my decision, I found out the decision had actually been made for me - she was already here. God found a way to put an end to my confusing back-and-forth and whether it was a faulty condom or the miscalculations on my part regarding my cycle (probably, the latter) it was done and too late to change anything.
Thus came the pregnancy. I never cease to be amazed at how different all three pregnancies had been. My first pregnancy was a walk in the park. I was so fit I never felt “heavy with the child” - it was more like feeling the wings behind my back. The night before I went into my first labor I packed my gym bag for the advanced step class I still took several times a week. I was very strong and I needed to be to endure my very first and very long labor and birth. The second time my fitness level declined considerably, but I was still doing alright. I could still proclaim things like “Pregnancy is not a handicap!” Though I gained much more weight and was slower and the nights were much worse, it was nothing like my third time. This third time around I stopped believing that pregnancy was not a handicap. Now I believe firmly that it is - it’s just that I got kind of lucky the first two times thanks to being of above average fitness level. Many women don’t run or do step, however, and I now feel bad for all womankind. Because this last pregnancy kicked my ass from its beginning to its end. I have yet to fit into any of my normal clothes when last two times it took maybe a week. But that’s not even important. I felt like an invalid my entire third pregnancy. I don’t even know how I made it through. I had to lie down almost every morning and definitely every afternoon, because most of the time I either couldn’t breathe or felt like my heart would jump out of my chest if I didn’t get horizontal immediately. And there was the constant unbearable fatigue. I am still thankful for the fact that my kids can play well on their own for exactly the amount of time I needed to close my eyes and come back out a living breathing creature of a somewhat human kind.
Then the last month of the pregnancy came. With it came The Fear. When I used to think about birth during my first pregnancy I felt what I would describe as a general nervousness. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into and it really helped that some women compared birth to running a marathon. I calmed myself by saying if I did one I could certainly do another. And I did it and it was in many ways like the last dreadful miles of a marathon. The Fear came the second time around. It was manageable throughout the pregnancy, but it completely consumed me at the moment of my second birth. Beside the fact that the birth itself was hard, painful, intense and very fast, all I think about now when I think of that experience is how scared I was then. I left that birth feeling extremely dissatisfied with myself and with the whole experience. It overwhelmed and made me feel like I was a total coward. In some ways I looked to this third birth to help me get my self-confidence back, to cure me in some way. I didn’t believe in myself anymore and I needed to believe again. The Fear hit me hard towards the end this time and I didn’t know what to do with it. I had two amazing natural births. I never once thought of or sought pain relief - I managed each time. But in anticipation of the third birth, I developed panic attacks. Second time around killed my faith in birth being safe and enjoyable. Okay, so safe maybe I could still believe, but enjoyable? Empowering? Maybe for someone else, but not for me. Even remembering my first birth - a very empowering experience - wasn’t helping.
I brought these thoughts up with my midwife. Before I say anything else, I have to say that the midwife, Natasha, had a very laissez-faire approach to care during pregnancy. She is the only professionally-trained home-birth midwife in the country of Belarus (trained with an American lay-midwife in Moscow) and who has years of practice as a hospital midwife at one of Minsk’s leading birth centers. My first issue with her was that logistically she would probably not make it to my birth. But it sort of became the least of my concern after I’ve gotten to know her. She turned out to be a bit disorganized, I had to chase her down in the beginning to get her to give me prenatal care, since I wasn’t getting it anywhere else (by choice). I was a bit nervous about her lackadaisical attitude.
On the other hand, there were things I liked about her too. One big thing was that Natasha was only five years older than me - I felt like we were peers in some ways. I didn’t look up to her or felt the need to treat her as a mother figure like I did with my midwife Pam the second time I was pregnant. I didn’t get attached to her emotionally, but toward the end of the pregnancy we did settle into a sort of an easy friendship. So when I brought up The Fear, Natasha knew what to say to me to give me perspective and most importantly strength. One thing the four midwives I have encountered in my journey into motherhood had in common was this amazing knowledge of women and what to say to give the peace of mind back that could get lost from time to time. Countless times I would go into appointments my head full of crazy, and leave with my head set straight and secure on my shoulders. Till this day I feel blessed for being led to midwives as my caregivers in pregnancies.
The last month of this pregnancy unexpectedly turned out to be the best month. I was no longer wrought with regrets, fears and doubts. I even stopped feeling “heavy with the child” - the baby engaged and I could suddenly breathe again. I no longer felt run down and heavy all day and all night long. There was another reason I could breathe again - our wonderful new nanny, who was a godsend to me. I no longer have trouble admitting I don’t have what it takes to be a domestic goddess and it is fine with me. I need help and thank God I can have this help now. The most peaceful month of this pregnancy reminded me of the last trimester of my second pregnancy - full of walks around our sweet neighborhood, daily swims in the pool, wonderful peace in our home. There’s something about the finish line - like the calm before the storm - right before baby comes and wreaks havoc onto your wonderful life.
Not all worries were magically alleviated, however. There were still questions on my mind. Like what to do with the kids during the birth. I didn’t have a desire so common for most home-birthers to have kids witness the birth. I couldn’t even picture it. Alex and I never seemed to find a moment to discuss and figure out what to do about all that. We would get as far as Alex saying “I am sure you’ll give birth at night like the last two times” (one was born at 6am, the other 5:45am) and then we would get interrupted and the conversation would be over for a while. It would have been easiest to involve my parents of course, except we didn’t want them to know that we were birthing at home again. My mother acted as though we were heading to the birth center and she would come over to take care of the kids. I didn’t contradict her, but I hoped there would be time for us to take the kids to her house instead (an hour round-trip, which also made me nervous, since I expected another very fast birth). Just in case, I talked to my mom’s cousin, my good friend Inna, who happens to adore my kids and she promised that if she didn’t have to work she’d be there to help with the kids. Another friend Oxana made the same promise. So it didn’t look too hopeless, but it still worried me.
The other worry was having a witness. We had thought that to get a birth certificate for a home birth (it’s done through courts here) we would need to present a witness. Shortly before the birth, I found out that it would be sufficient to have a “spravka” - a document that states that I was pregnant - in place of a witness. I went to a private clinic at almost 40 weeks pregnant and got the needed “spravka”. (That was my only visit to an ob/gyn and a very unpleasant one at that. In the 15 minutes of the visit she tried very hard to get me to freak out over various things from swollen ankles to not having done any ultrasounds. I am once again thankful for midwifery care I’ve always had.) So the witness thing seemed to be taken care of barely in time for the birth.
There were other worries too, like getting paperwork done for my Nicholas for his first school year, his passing of the entrance exams to the music school, etc. One more unpleasant worry raised its ugly head two weeks before the due date… We were to have our hot water shut off due to the repairs that needed to be done to our water tanks for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. Right through the due date. I actually sobbed when I read the announcement. No shower for my labor?! Are you kidding? I felt devastated. Natasha once again found words to help me deal. She looked at me and said “Women gave birth in concentration camps. Don’t let these things take away from your experience.” Her words worked magic. I accepted the hot water (or lack of thereof) fate.
Finally, one not-so-unpleasant worry was that the new baby was due on its big brother’s sixth birthday. Alex was all about saving on birthday cakes for years to come, but I thought everyone should have a birthday of their own. My second-born convinced me of that when he chose not to be born on his mama’s 30th birthday, but three days later. It wouldn’t be the worst thing of course, but I knew Nicholas worried that he wouldn’t be the first to have a birthday and I didn’t want him to feel any disdain towards his sister for that. And the chances of the baby being born on N’s birthday were pretty high - Nicholas was born two days before his due date, Gregory - one day before the due date. So if that pattern were to continue, this baby could be born right on its due date.
This baby seemed to be very considerate of his family’s needs and feelings, however. June 8th came and we got our hot water back! My smart baby had waited to make sure mama would get some nice labor relief in the shower. Now we just had to get through June 9th - her brother’s birthday and, incidentally, her due date - and we’d be good as gold. Not so likely, I realized, as I lay there at 6 in the morning on June 9th feeling contractions coming on due to what seemed like an upset stomach. I had those every night along with an upset stomach for weeks, leading me to believe I’d have another fast labor, but to have them in the morning? - That was a first! I knew something was brewing.
I was determined, however, to give Nicholas a small one but a birthday celebration nevertheless. My mom had already started her teaching vacation and she had been coming every day for a few days to play with the kids (frankly, making me worry that I’d go into labor right when she was there and what then?). Mom and dad were supposed to come over in the evening on N’s birthday, so my morning contractions at first reassured me that there was plenty of time to have a nice and fast birth *before* my parents would get there, except I didn’t want to have the baby on N’s birthday! Therefore I decided I would rather have the birth that *night* after the celebration and shortly or any time after midnight and THAT would do it. After I made this plan, I felt at ease. Contractions kept coming on and kept forcing me to the toilet, but I didn’t give them any mind. Nanny came at 9 am, we worked on some things around our home. Later in the morning I took the kids and we went outside to go to the children’s clinic to pick up N’s paperwork for school, then to the store to buy some candy, and then to N’s kindergarten to distribute the candy to his friends in honor of his birthday. While I was on this long walk around all these places in our neighborhood, the contractions completely stopped. We came home, ate lunch and went for our daily nap. I snoozed for about two hours without being bothered with anything - no tummy troubles of any sort. I really wondered about the power of mind over body.
Except in the evening the contractions returned. Together with my parents - making me quite nervous once again. But we celebrated in style. My parents left. We cleaned up and turned in for the night. I knew the baby would come that night. The birthday boy was happy and it was the last evening when little G glanced at my enormous belly and asked “Mama, when’s our baby gonna come out?”
Imagine my utter amazement to find out that for the first night in my entire pregnancy I actually slept through without trotting to the potty or suffering from bursts of insomnia. I slept like a dead woman not cracking a lid till 6 am. My body was storing up energy for birth and I knew it as soon as I woke. Shortly after 6 am by the time I completely came to a contraction hit. It was very noticeable and unmistakable. I went to the bathroom, checked the dishwasher in the kitchen and went to lie back down. I wasn’t completely sure that it was labor, after all it could be another day like the day before. I lied down and another one hit. And so they were coming and coming. The breaks in between were quite long, so I didn’t have any sense of urgency. By the time we made and ate breakfast, shortly after 8am I had no more doubts that it was labor and I knew I couldn’t focus on contractions and the kids at the same time. I called my mom and asked if we could bring the kids for the day. Alex had been sick and working from home for a couple of days, so I used that as an excuse to get the kids over to her and to alleviate any suspicion my mom might have had. I packed the kids’ bag and off they went. Before Alex left I called Natasha the midwife and told her what was happening. I texted her the night before describing the lazy contractions of N’s birthday and the upset stomach (I said I wasn’t sure which was causing which), so she was on an alert. But that particular morning of my call she had an exam at 10am, so she told me to hang in there and that she would get there as soon as she was done.
Alex left with the kids and I was all alone. I cleaned up the kitchen and whatever else was there to do - not much since the day before we did pretty much everything there was to do as far as house chores. I was sort of wondering around aimlessly until Alex came back. While he was gone I tried to time the contractions kind of reluctantly, I almost didn’t care to know. They were coming exactly 10 minutes apart and I couldn’t make myself time how long they were. Alex was back probably around 10 am. And about half hour later the door bell rang again! I thought “Oh no, this couldn’t be my dad coming to see what was going on, could it?” Ha. No, it was Natasha! She managed to pass her exam and get to our house in 45 minutes which isn’t short of a small miracle for a city the size of Mink.
I updated her on contractions. By then they were quite unpleasant, but rare enough that I didn’t mind them. In other words, I didn’t look like I was in labor and I was very relaxed mostly because I didn’t have anything to do - an unusual thing for me! We chatted and had tea. Then I remembered that I was never able to open the file Natasha sent me that listed all the medical/birth supplies I would need. Alex wasn’t thrilled that I literally waited till the last moment to address such an important issue… well, he went off to the pharmacy and to the store to buy everything. I remember feeling really annoyed that he was totally dawdling like nothing unusual was happening, like it was just another day (he’s a great dawdler) so after he finally left and dared to tell me he would be taking a trolley to the pharmacy instead of driving - making me quite angry - I announced to Natasha that I was going to have this baby while he was gone just to spite him. She rolled her eyes at me and laughed. Clearly my labor wasn’t labor enough for that pronouncement to come true.
We sat on the floor and chatted about something insignificant like furniture. I felt kind of bored, I was so not used to being at home with nothing to do. I realized it was the first time I sat down since breakfast and it showed - the contractions slowed, but were still unpleasant. I sorted some baby clothes to relieve the boredom. Natasha looked at our furniture catalogues, then Alex was back. We looked at all the stuff he brought and didn’t bring. He didn’t feel like going to any other stores and I was too distracted to insist that he go get the rest of the supplies. My contractions were really far apart by then. Alex asked Natasha if she was planning to stay the day in a kind of a tone that made him sound like he was worried that we were keeping her from something. She said she wasn’t going anywhere and then told us that her third baby was coming via a very slow labor when suddenly the labor sped up and he was born within an hour. I liked hearing that, but I still didn’t like that labor wasn’t changing to anything more significant.
So I suggested Alex and I go for a walk. Natasha looked a bit surprised, but didn’t say anything. I got dressed and we decided to go to N’s kindergarten to pick up his graduation DVD and some paperwork. It was probably just after 2 pm. The kindergarten is about a 10 minute walk from our house. The contractions definitely picked up during the walk. I found it funny that all the people we met had no idea I was in labor - I was just a huge pregnant woman to them. I keep wondering what would N’s teachers say if they knew our baby was so close to being born when I was talking to them that day. Probably less than an hour later we were home - I had wanted to walk longer but it started to rain. Natasha was asleep on the couch.
The contractions became more intense during the walk and also more frequent. The whole day I found it the best to sit on the toilet during the contractions and I headed for the toilet as soon as we were home. Except this time our upstairs neighbors started drilling the floor in their bathroom right above my head! It was quite annoying and I had to leave the toilet. Finally, I knew it was time for The Shower. After making sure my birth team had something to eat (it’s been a while since our mid-morning tea and by then it was after 3pm), without further delay I got into the tub, pulled the curtain and turned the shower on. The thought that the hot water wouldn’t run out like it did in our house at the time of G’s birth was heavenly.
The contractions, however, didn’t let any heavenly thoughts linger. They were making me work and concentrate. I plugged the tub drain to fill it with water as the contractions were quite intense when I was standing up. I thought maybe sitting in a tub full of water would help a bit. The only problem was that our tub was narrow and it was challenging to tailor-sit which is what I wanted to do. I knew that if I reclined and just stretched my legs forward it would be worse. So I tailor-sat sideways for a while. It was becoming painful, but I figured out a trick. When a contraction hit I would take the showerhead into my hand, turn the water hot and aim it at the top of my stomach thus creating two sources of pain to concentrate on and making it somehow easier to deal. Alex came in checking on me. I don’t know what I was thinking but I told him that in order to entertain Natasha while she waited he might want to show her the movie “Babies”. He didn’t say anything about that and eventually left. Perhaps I was talking crazy. Then Natasha came in to check on me. She said kind of hypothetically “Are you in that much pain that you need the water already?” It made me wonder whether I was making too much of it and resorting to the shower relief too soon in my labor, but then I decided it didn’t matter - it was working and I wasn’t getting out. I asked Natasha how women in Minsk possibly gave birth in these narrow tubs (and ours was actually much bigger than the typical size ones) and she showed me how - by reclining back and throwing one leg over the side of the tub. That seemed like a horrifying position to me and I wrote it off immediately. The idea of birthing in the water never appealed to me anyway.
Natasha offered to check me. She had mentioned that she would check me earlier and I didn’t like the idea. In my previous two pregnancies I was never checked, not till the baby’s head was crowning if you want to call that “checking.” So I said I didn’t want to have her check. She left. Not sure what she made of that, but once again it didn’t matter at that point.
After spending a while in a tailor-sit in my narrow bathtub I started worrying that my legs would fall asleep. By that point my labor became the exact intense labor I had with Gregory. One thing was missing, however, - The Fear. Yes! I was in pain, it sucked, the contractions were total bitches, but I had no fear and no panic. It was amazing! I was working through them, focusing and concentrating - I was LABORING. I didn’t feel like my body was in control and doing something evil to me - *I* was in charge! I knew that if I got up from tailor sit, contractions would become killer, but I also knew that I needed to get up. Just in case the baby crowned (which I didn’t expect to happen for a while, but just in case!) I didn’t want my legs to be incapacitated. So I got up. The contraction that came immediately as I started moving really was killer, but I managed to put myself into a different sitting position with my trusty shower head in hand. This time I sat with my legs forward and my body leaned forward and belly squished in between my legs. I kept turning up the hot water when the contractions would come. I also remembered to let water out of the tub once in a while in order not to flood the bathroom. Pretty soon hot water wasn’t enough. That’s when I started doing my favorite Ina May’s horse-lips. I don’t think I did horse-lips in my first labor, but second time and this last time - I don’t know how I could have managed without them. With every new contraction I horse-lipped myself through. What a great technique it turned out to be for me.
After some time sitting like that (maybe a handful of contractions) I knew it was time to get the show on the road. It was time to get up. To get out. I knew it would totally suck, but I knew that sitting there in the tub was only delaying the culmination. Last time as soon as I left the shower the baby started being born. This time I knew it would be the same. I was afraid it would be the same. It was. I barely managed to wipe myself more or less between the now-awful contractions and then I realized that I was terribly hungry. Silly me. I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of bread with yummy liver spread my mom made. Did I really think I would eat it? I actually did manage to take a bite before another killer one hit and I somehow made it to the bedroom with a piece of bread still in my hand and my mouth full. I was determined to eat it. My body, however, had other plans. I lied down and the contraction that came confused the heck out of me. It felt exactly like the last contractions before G was born, but it didn’t feel “pushy” per se. “Already?!” I thought. But I needed to eat my bread! I thought of calling Natasha to help her clarify my doubts, but then changed my mind. Two more came just like that. I had no fear but I also knew it was time to call Natasha. Hesitantly, I did. When she came in and saw me on our spotless white sheets the first thing she said was “You’re going to birth HERE?!” I knew that there was a plastic table cloth under the sheet (we don’t own any other color sheets but white), but before I could explain these things to her, she ran out to grab her suitcase. By the time she came back into the room, I had turned onto my fours and leaned on a pile of pillows I myself managed to stack.
The next contraction was spent with me horse-lipping loudly into the pillows and moaning in between and with Natasha trying to spread some soak-pads underneath me to protect the bed. The contraction after that brought out the head. I hated doing it but this time I knew it had to be done and didn’t try asking anyone to “put the baby back” like the last time. Deep in my moans I half-heard Natasha telling me to take a deep breath on the next one and push out my baby. I felt Alex rubbing my back and telling me the worst part was over. Not really: birthing the body was just as hard as birthing the head for some reason. And just like that I was DONE. The first two times I had to be reminded to turn over and look at my babies. This time I started turning immediately after I pushed her out and heard her cries - Natasha had to slow me down to help me since I happened to forget there was also a cord involved in between me, the baby and my legs. In the midst of my slow and painful turning Natasha exclaimed “It’s a GIRL!” and laughed. She always found it funny that I wanted a third boy so much. For a second I felt annoyed that she didn’t let Alex announce the sex, but then it didn’t make any difference. I HAD A DAUGHTER.
I grabbed my baby, put her on my chest with the two pairs of helping hands surrounding us. She was blue though she had cried immediately after the birth (Alex later told me Natasha suctioned her right away). I forgot it took time for them to pink up. And she pooped on me right away. The only thing I didn’t like about that was that we would never know her exact weight at birth. She was born at 4:48pm, less than two hours after we came back from the walk. Just minutes after the birth we were all chatting and laughing. I felt so happy and fulfilled with the whole experience. I couldn’t believe we had done - my daughter and I we were quite a team. I knew Mother of God was there with us, I knew every prayer had been answered. Every one. I was cured from my second birth. I was a mother of a daughter. It was a new beautiful life with no more doubts and no more regrets. I could move forward as a mother, as a woman.
We had to wait a while for my placenta to be born this time. After sitting there and waiting for a while, I had to get on my fours again to get it to move out of me once and for all. Our girl was weighed and came in at 3970 though I claim 4 kilos (8 lbs 13 oz) considering the poop. I always wanted a big baby and though she wasn’t that big, she was bigger than both her brothers. She was also longer - 56 cm.
Natasha hung out with us for a long while. By the time she was ready to leave it was well after 7pm. Alex drove her home and then went to pick up the boys. In the meantime, I called my mother. She cried and said she knew it was happening when Alex brought the boys with the giant bag (I really should learn to pack small some day). I texted my friend Amy with the good news - I texted her earlier in the day to let her know of labor beginning in the morning and she was praying for me all day. After a couple more texts I decided to put all that aside and enjoy my new daughter. I didn’t need to fall in love - I had been for a long time already. She came and made my life complete. I - we - were now whole.
The boys all came home shortly. They were both excited, though there was a sense of bewilderment to Gregory’s excitement and a sense of this new genuine love to Nicholas’s. Immediately after birth I called her Masha. Nicholas came calling her Arina. The girl would remain nameless for quite a while I read the boys a bedtime story and we went to sleep with a new person in my bed instead of my belly. Yes, we were whole.