BIRTH STORY.

I am sharing Further's birth story here for several reasons. Mainly, I wanted to write it down so I wouldn't forget it - it is amazing what happens to your brain when you are breastfeeding! Also, it was really helpful for me when I was pregnant to read other people's birth stories. I think it is important for us to hear/read stories of successful homebirths - and my midwife especially wanted me to share mine because it is a story of a successful loooong homebirth. So here it is. It is incredibly long, so if you are not interested or you dislike the details of birth or don't want to see a photo of me and my son a few seconds after he was born, just pass on by! Saturdays are my day to milk Lily, so I called Cher early to let her know I didn't think I would be able to do it that morning. The night before, I had a little mucus and bloody show and Jesse and I were feeling giddy with excitement - the baby was coming! Jesse, while doing some last minute research in one of my pregnancy books, read that passing the mucus plug can mean that labor could begin within a few hours - or a few weeks. That calmed us down a bit.We spent the day taking walks around the farm and enjoying a lovely pre-Christmas lunch with the Smiths. We had one of our turkeys, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I had contractions all day, but they were light and very similar to the Braxton-Hicks contractions I'd had throughout the pregnancy. That night, the contractions became much stronger, sort of like heavy menstrual cramps. They were't painful, but they were coming pretty regularly at five minutes apart and it was a struggle to get any sleep.The next day, Sunday, we called Tracey, our midwife, and filled her in. She told us that everything sounded great and I should try to get some rest. We took some more walks and I tried to sleep, but it was difficult when we were just so excited! We began to think the baby would be born that day, on our 3 year anniversary.Well, another sleepless night passed and I was still very pregnant. During the night (always at night, it seemed) the contractions had intensified again and I was having to really focus on riding through each one calmly. It helped to think about specific women in my life during each contraction - to picture her face and then the face of her child or children. I cycled through practically everyone I know...my mother, grandmothers, family, friends, farmwives. I felt connected to them all and truly in awe of what I was about to do.We called Tracey again, early Monday morning. She sent Renee, our other midwife, out to check on me. After talking over how I was feeling and examining me, she said everything was progressing well and I was 2 cm dilated. While offering to stay if I needed her to, Renee said it would probably make the most sense for her to leave and let me continue opening up on my own. "Things will probably get rolling later this evening." So, we thought, this baby will be born on its actual due date!Nope. Yet another night of little rest and intense contractions. By the early morning hours, I was standing and rocking back and forth through each contraction, sometimes softly humming or moaning my way through them. Jesse called the midwives and they headed our way. It was a relief to know they were coming, because at least that meant things were progressing.Tracey, Renee, and their assistant Melissa arrived and immediately settled themselves on the kitchen floor - spreading out paperwork and knitting projects to work on while they waited. It is hard for me to remember the details of this day, Tuesday: continued contractions every 5 minutes, alternating between swaying back and forth or on my hands and knees on the bed, one of the ladies checking the baby's heartbeat every 20 minutes, eating lots of soup and drinking lots of water. Eventually, at the swell of every contraction, I would feel a powerful, tightening surge. Feeling my body squeezing itself without any prodding from me was a crazy feeling. Someone brought in a birthing stool, a sort of u-shaped seat where I could sit in a squatting position with Jesse supporting me from behind. This was incredibly helpful, as squatting was very tiring but also seemed to speed the contractions along. At one point, Renee checked and found that the baby was slightly off in position - turned and not making good contact with my cervix. She had me rotate through a series of yoga-like positions, holding each one for the length of several contractions. This was really difficult - having to stay still through the contractions - especially having to lie flat on my back. All of this eventually worked, causing the baby to move back up and then into the correct position - but I remember having a good cry once it was over. Tracey called out from the other room that crying was normal and actually a good thing.As the baby began to move back down, it felt like things were beginning to progress, but I reached a low point on Tuesday evening as I watched the midwives head upstairs to go to sleep. I could NOT believe that I was going to through another night with no baby. Jesse was holding me up from behind on the birthing stool, and I knew he was on the verge of total exhaustion as well. I could feel him falling asleep between each fast-coming contraction and then jerking awake as I would crush his poor fingers with my grip. We entered into a sort of delirium state, with one of the midwives coming downstairs every 20 minutes to check the hearbeat. Every time, I would hope she would bring news that something, anything was happening. I remember Tracey saying to me at some point, surely sensing my failing confidence, "I wish there was something I could do to help you, but this part is your work to do."This was the bottom for me - I was so close to vocalizing what I had begun to feel inside - "I can't do this." But a well-timed clip from A Charlie Brown Christmas came on the radi0 - the sweet voice of Linus telling the true meaning of Christmas. And I knew I could do it. I didn't know how, but I knew I could.And somehow, we did. We just kept at it through the night - a rhythm of contactions and baby's heartbeat and Christmas carols on the radio. In the early hours of the morning, I had a tremendous urge to go to the bathroom. I was horrified at the thought of squatting over our makeshift toilet while having such strong contractiions so often - but I HAD to go. I called upstairs because there seemed to be a lot of blood when I wiped and Renee came downstairs to check, saying that sometimes the urge to poop is actually the urge to push. I stretched out on the bed so she could examine me and sure enough, she was right."Go ahead and try to push," she said. As silly as it sounds, I didn't really know what push meant - I didn't know what I was supposed to do! "I don't know how," I said. "I just really feel like I need to POOP!""Yes, that!" Renee laughed. "That is pushing!"OH! Well why didn't anyone say so!? I immediately started pushing and it was the most GLORIOUS feeling of my life. I roared as I felt the baby moving through me, and it was so satisfying. After days of sitting around and letting the contractions happen,  I was actively birthing this child. Tracey told me to try not to yell, to save my vocal chords and put that same energy into the push. She and Meliessa joined us downstaris and began spreading out equipment and I suddenly realized that it really was happening this time, Christmas Eve.I moved back down to the birthing stool and Melissa took over Jesse's position so he could watch. Bless her and her sweet, crushed hands! I pushed for about 2 1/2 hours, but it truly felt like 2 minutes to me - I was so happy to feel progress after all the waiting. Tracey asked it I wanted to push on my hands and knees, and her intuition was correct. I fell forward off the stool and propped my arms on a stack of quilts. Jesse and Renee were behind me, watching the head poke out further and further each push. This was probably the only part of the whole birth I would call painful - the stinging feeling of stretching. But having read many birth stories myself, I knew this meant the baby was almost out. There was an incredibly intense push and then a sort of POP! feeling, and the head was out! This was completely surreal, as I paused to wait for another contraction and Jesse held the screaming head of our child who was still half inside me. "One more push!" Renee said, and again, she was right. The baby slid out into Jesse's arms and I screamed "THANK YOU JESUS!" and I meant it.The baby was handed up to me from between my legs because I was still on my knees and the cord still attached. I immediately saw it was a boy and kissed his messy face, and all the exhuastion was gone and I could have run a marathon with all the energy and joy I suddenly had. It was perfect. Yes, it was long. But there is nothing inherently wrong with a long birth, especially when mama and baby are fine. There is NO WAY I would have been allowed to labor so long at a hospital. Although I can't know for sure, doctors would have most likely given me Pitocin to speed things along, which often to leads to irregular hearbeat in the baby, which often starts a chain of events that often ends with a cesarean.I am so grateful to our beautiful midwives, who had faith in me and always knew that I was fine, that the baby was never in any danger. They allowed me to do my own work, and now I have this tremendous sense of accomplishmment. Birth left me feeling so strong, so powerful, so proud...all feelings that women are sadly not often inclined to feel, especially in birth.Further Collett Frost was born at 7:49 AM on Christmas Eve, at home. And he gets more and more wonderful every day.- Hannah.

HOW FARMING PREPARED ME FOR PARENTHOOD SO FAR.

Five or ten years ago, I don't think I would have been able to catch my own baby. Or cut the umbilical chord. Or comfortably watch my wife labor for three days. Maybe, but I used to be squeamish. Who isn't when it comes to birth? Our culture pounds it into us that birth is messy and gross (when in fact it is messy and incredible), so what boy who goes through the school system I went through––through the movies and television shows––wouldn't be intimidated?But since moving to Bugtussle, I've helped with births, in cows and sheep and cats. I've dealt with blood. I've grown confidence in the way we were built––that Hannah was built to have a baby, and I was built with hands to catch it.And then came the first weeks of life.Farming is about as full time of a job as they come. It's early in the morning until late at night and sometimes, when a chicken's attacked, when a rogue storm comes through and threatens to destroy your young transplants, or when your neighbor offers you a few bottle pigs, it's the middle of the night, too.The farmer can guide the farm one way or another, but ultimately the farmer's job is to react to the farm's moods. Because every day is dictated by the farm, not the farmer. It's a job of patience, and hard work and delayed pleasure.And this is all part of why I feel this transition into parenthood has been relatively smooth so far. Of course, our baby isn't crawling yet. Or talking. It looks around a little which, so far as I can tell, is pretty harmless. But the actual activity of taking care of this new, wonderful creature has seemed––well, in a word––normal.We're used to taking care of things, making sure they are fed and well-sheltered. We're used to long days and a lack of sleep. Our strength helps us to rock him for hours. And we're definitely used to longterm projects that take weeks and sometimes years to develop––to become self-sustaining. Of course, we're in for things no farm, no life, can prepare us for––disciplining, schooling, dating––but I still feel we'll be able to draw on our education as farmers to make the best decisions as parents. Because what is a farmer really, if not a parent to one giant, constantly moving baby, full of energy and bursting with potential?- Jesse.

ALL THE FEELINGS.

We plan to share our whole birth story here someday soon, but for now, I only have the clarity of mind (and the free time!) to share a bit about this past week and our new little family.Our labor was long. It was perfect, wonderful, life-changing, empowering, otherworldly. But also long. And as we were entering our third night of labor, our third night of trying to sleep in 5 minute increments between contractions, Jesse and I were both in a sort of haze of delirium. I found myself on the edge of the end, miles past the line of exhaustion, ready to say out loud what I had started to fear: “I don’t think I can do this.”And through the blur of sounds, the voice of Linus came through on the radio station we had been listening to:"And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people... Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."And that next morning, on Christmas Eve, we had a son.I am feeling all the feelings right now, and have so many things I want to say and people I want to acknowledge and memories I don’t want to forget, so just this:I have never felt such a deep, intimate understanding of the Christmas story.I have never felt so blown away by the miracle of Creation, which is funny because Jesse and I are constantly surrounded by nature and honeybees and sprouting seeds and all the kinds of things that keep you in awe. I guess when it happens inside of you, its just a whole new sort of amazing.I have never felt so connected to so many people - as I labored, I thought of all the mothers in my life, cycling through all their faces and then the faces of their children, trying to draw out strength from them and their births. My own mother, my grandmother, Jesse’s mother, all my family and friends and farmwives and millions and millions of women before me.I have never felt so nourished and supported. In the blur of those few days, there was potato and kale soup and toast, cold blueberries and glasses of milk, daal and frozen pizzas and broth - all of these things brought to us by neighbors or pulled from the freezer that had been stocked by those same friends and neighbors.I have never felt so proud of myself, for what I accomplished, and so simultaneously humbled by all the things I cannot do. I am learning to be gracious for the help, for every offer of kindness, for each gift. Learning to say “Yes, thank you,” and relishing in the luxury of being taken care of.I have never felt so much love for my husband. He is a champion and is doing so much right now, changing all the diapers and cooking all the meals and keeping the fire going and helping me go to the bathroom and feeding the pigs and chickens and cats and dog. I can’t believe how lucky I am, that this man loves me and wanted to start this family with me.But mostly, our son. My son. I have never felt so much of anything. Like I said, I am feeling all the feelings right now. He’s really the best and he’s perfect and I can’t believe it.Thank you for all of the prayers and support that were sent our way over the past week - they were certainly felt and gratefully received. I hope your holiday season is as full of joy as ours.- Hannah.

SUPERHUMAN.

I hadn't looked at the time in a while. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to. My wife had been laboring for so long I'd grown weary of watching the hours fall off the clock, the days fall off the calendar, our sleep each night fall victim to contractions ten, then five, then three minutes apart. The labor had been strong enough we thought for sure our baby would be born by his due date, the 22nd. Now it was some ungodly hour on the morning of the 24th and there was still plenty of labor, but no baby. So I wasn't looking at the clock. The clock was too disheartening. I needed something more encouraging to look at, and that's why I looked at my wife.Hannah has always been tough—living the way we do, toughness is a prerequisite—but this night she was superhuman. Her body was challenging her in ways I will never be challenged. Not in the garden. Not in the pasture. Not in my life. And despite the seemingly endless obstacles, through an unrelenting, uphill contest, she endured. Better than endured, she conquered.We would dance through contractions together, and I would watch her face searching for signs of her well-being. But I never saw pain. I never saw hurt. Her expressions resembled some primitive combination of pleasure and control, and she looked not like she does when she is in pain, but like she does when she's at work in the garden. And it kept me going. For three days straight she kept me smiling. Her resolve and her strength and her beautiful face got me, the helpless husband, through her difficult labor.Then after what mathematically must have been 400 contractions, I got to catch our son as he fell from her body. Love rushed out of me like drool from an anesthetized dental patient. Adrenaline was dispatched liberally into my veins. And I don't cry, but by God I wept like a baby. Like our baby. I wept because I was officially a father, but I wept because of my wife, who had not only carried our baby for 40 long weeks, and labored for three long days, but also pushed it out with grace and finesse. Never did she get down on herself. Never did she show fear. She just did the work and had the baby. And when it was over I looked at her again, holding our baby and smiling widely, and that's when I realized we can totally do this parenting thing, because I've got the World's Strongest Human on my side.- Jesse