This Birth Story Sunday you get TWO birth stories in one! Bonnie Cortez is a Life-Cycle Celebrant and Officiant, wedding couples and providing baby naming ceremonies to Chicagoland families. She shares with us the special births of her 16 and 18 year old boys. Enjoy.
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With HEART,  
Hillary

My boys are now 18 and 16, but their birth stories are as real as if they happened yesterday. With Jonathon, my older guy, I went in not knowing much of anything about birth. I had an amazing midwife, Carol Hirschfield, who kept me at ease throughout my pregnancy. Two weeks prior to his due date, I had a difficult time sleeping. We had gone out for Korean food that night and I was up watching Janeane Garofalo’s stand-up. She referenced the movie, Backdraft, and made a quip about how her life story would be titled Back Fat, which made me snort as I nestled comfortably into my own comfy folds. Pregnancy had inspired a softening of my body that made me all the more huggable. But I digress. I couldn’t sleep. Janeane was cracking me up. I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I had asked my massage therapist friend, Lydia, to come over and do a little massage prior to the big show. She came over early to get started. As things got more intense, I called Carol and she said I was welcome to come in. What I didn’t know then is that triage can be a very uncomfortable place for a laboring mom. You are asked to remain fairly confined for about an hour while your contractions and the baby’s heartbeat are monitored. Not fun. Just breathe and hire a doula. She’ll get all creative about how you can make the most of that hour. This, too, shall pass. 

Gary, Jonathon’s dad, and I were finally ushered to our Labor and Delivery Room, There was a wooden rocking chair that looked inviting, so I sat and rocked and rode out the contractions. Those contractions felt like some invisible, unstoppable force had overtaken my body. That force was beginning to become stronger than I felt I could bare. My friend, Lillian was crouched by my side, whispering in my ear. She was so encouraging. I had attended her home birth not long before. She made labor and delivery look natural and like something I could do, too. When her beautiful daughter was born, I was on Lillian’s bed helping her push through the last act of the big show. What I didn’t know then was that my labor and delivery were going to look a bit different. 

Though the rocking chair was comforting and Lillian’s soothing voice was the only clarity that broke through the holy-crap-this-is the-most-intense-sensation-I-have-ever-felt-in-my-life moments, I decided I wanted the Epidural. I will tell you that the way I was able to manage my labor post-Epidural was like night and day. Looking back, I know that I was experiencing the pain I was feeling because I was dehydrated. It’s amazing how a solution as simple as drinking water can make such a difference. Dehydration can significantly affect how our bodies operate and perceive pain. I discovered this dehydration was the cause of that overbearing pain upon reflecting on the sequence of events later. Prior to getting an Epidural you get a saline drip. When that started coursing through my veins, I actually felt incredible. Finally able to poke my head out from behind the pain, I asked the nurse if she had added any pain medication to the IV. She said she hadn’t and I realized that my body was screaming for hydration and I just didn’t realize it. If I had had a doula with me, she would have made that observation and she might have encouraged me to labor longer before getting an Epidural. As it was, I learned as I went. 

As labor progressed more and my friends gathered around. At final toll, we had 11 people in the delivery room. Our cheering section was comprised of my college friend, Kathleen, high school friends Lydia, and Donna, my sister, Joy, Gary’s sister, Paula, Gary’s mom, Billie, my friends, Lillian, and Sonia and my niece, Danielle. My mother-in-law, who had five children herself, had never experienced birth from this perspective. Having her there was incredible. She was able to witness her grandchild being born, her son as support person and she was able to relive her most recent birth experience. At one point Carol asked, “Do you want all of these people here?” I said I did and we labored on. When it was time to push, my sister held one leg and Gary held the the other. It took 45 minutes of listening to the cues Carol gave me to bear down and use my breath to help me gain the strength and control I needed to push and release simultaneously (not an easy trick). At 9:00 p.m. on February 20, 1998, Jonathon Dylan Cortez was born. He had an insistent tiger’s cry and a pouty lower lip. His dad shielded his newborn eyes from the light and I kept saying how surreal the experience felt to me, in between coos of “What? What, honey?” as I attempted to console my newborn baby. 

My niece, Danielle, who was 9 years old at the time, was a bit freaked out when I delivered the placenta. A baby she expected, but a bloody blob doing its best imitation of a spleen, not so much. She said, “Ew! What’s that?” Carol explained that it was the placenta and that it looked intense but that it was a really incredible thing. With that explained, Danielle went into full on caretaker mode. She was one of the first people to hold Jonathon. She saw his lower lip quiver and she said, “Look, he’s shaking!” Her compassionate observation and her front row seat to Jonathon’s birth set the stage for her own birth story years later. She is now the mother of three and I was her doula for her first. The way we participated in some of the most precious times of each other’s lives was incredible.

My birth with Van, my younger guy was much different. Intent on building on my first experience, I did more research and discovered Hypnobirthing. I was initially sceptical that my therapist, whose voice reminded my of my grandmother’s, was going to have the skills to get my resistent mind engaged. She had me drooling in no time, however, as she walked me through the first visualization. When left to my own devices, I was diligent about my practice, getting cozy in a lounge chair each day to listen to my Hypnobirthing CD. I sank deeper and deeper into relaxation as I visualized a stone sinking into a calm pond. I imagined soothing colors around my belly as I rode out contractions. This practice made sleeping much easier throughout my pregnancy and it really connected me to my body and my baby. The hardest thing for me to wrap my mind round was that my body and my baby knew what to do. I just had to sink into that.

As Van’s due date drew near, I made sure to continue to eat and drink enough. Two and a half weeks before Van’s due date, I went out for Mexican food, a cuisine I had never cared for, but had developed a taste for during my pregnancy. That has stayed with me to this day! I had a dream a few nights before I went into labor in which Van came to me in a rush of water. I felt really connected to him, and very much in touch with my body and the birthing process. The day of his birth, I woke from a full night’s sleep, had breakfast, lunch and plenty of water. I called Carol and she said it did not sound like I was in labor, so I could take my time coming in. I don’t even remember triage with Van. I was really calm and felt like I was floating. I labored in the shower, the only person present was Gary. I had hired a doula, but this labor felt so different, I didn’t call for support until much further along in labor. Ultimately, things went so quickly she didn’t even arrive until 15 minutes after Van was born.

But back to labor. Things started to get intense in the shower and I called for an Epidural. The only time I felt pain during labor was when I was asked to lay down to have my cervix checked for dilation. My last check, just 15 minutes earlier, showed that I was at 5 cm. This time, the anesthesiologist, who was prepped to get the Epidural started, instead said, “You’re 10 cm. It’s time to push. Feel free to hold my hand.” I screamed just like Michael did in that scene from The Office when he was told that Toby, his nemesis, had come back to work after being away. Then I continued screaming the way you might if you were told that a thorny watermelon was about to eke out of your vagina like a bat out of hell. I wasn’t ready, but you never are and the pressure was insane. But less than five minutes later, Van was born as my water broke and he came to me in a rush of water just like in my dream. As soon as he was born, I felt nothing but joy, nothing but wonder. 

Birth is a wild ride, and once you’re on the other side, you’ll have an incredible story to tell. The people who come through you have such an impact on your life, as you will on theirs. Happy birthing, warrior women. I can’t wait to hear your stories.

​I’m going to try really hard to do this all in order.  I was totally in my own little world for SO MUCH of this whole event that I know I’m missing huge chunks of the night and I’m sure that lots happened that I don’t even realise, but this is just my story.  The birth as I saw it.

At 12:30 on Friday morning, the twee little Tornado called for me from her room.  I went in to lay down with her, but she was making me crazy.  She wouldn’t settle down, she kept rubbing all my skin (as she always does…and it always makes me nuts) and just generally being fussy.  We both finally fell asleep, where I proceeded to have terrible nightmares.  Brutal.  I don’t even want to talk about them because they freaked me out so badly.  At about 2:30 I woke up, very quickly, and had to lay in the dark for a few moments, shaking it off and telling myself that they were just dreams.

I was feeling quite uncomfortable, so I quickly left The Tornado and crawled back into my own bed.  And immediately started having contractions. OUCH!  I had forgotten how painful they were!  I had been reading a lot of really beautiful birth stories, so I had visions of a long, rolling labour where I rode contractions like waves for hours, walking and laughing with Husbandio in between.

Not bloody likely.

I had a few contractions, and decided to go grab my phone because I had no sense of time and couldn’t tell how far apart they were or how long they were lasting.  I needed a timer.  It turns out that they were about four minutes apart, lasting for a minute.  Hmmm…sounds suspiciously like labour, I thought.  But I decided to give it a few more rounds, just in case things settled down.

Again, not bloody likely.

At 3:30, I gave Husbandio the nudge and told him it was time to page the midwives.  He did that while I texted the photographer, and we wrestled with whether or not it was time to wake up my mom.  After the next contraction, I assured him that it was, indeed, that time.  So we called her to come over so that she’d be ready to spring into action when The Tornado woke up.  In the meantime, the midwives had called back, heard one of my contractions, and were rushing over.  Things were picking up.

The midwives arrived at about 4:15.  They checked my progress (about 6-7 cm dilated) and immediately started the IV because I was GBS positive and needed a round of antibiotics.  Once that was done, everyone was madly rushing around, trying to get the bed made up and the tub filled because HELLO!  It’s GO TIME!

At one point, my midwife needed another fitted sheet so I handed her one, and she was like, “No…this is a regular sheet…I need a fitted one.”  Well, wasn’t she shocked when it WAS INDEED a fitted sheet.  I’m not kidding, you guys, I’m like the Rain Man of sheet folding.  It’s my SPECIAL SKILL.

So to catch you up – the house is in CHAOS.  I’m in the living room, screaming through contractions, Husbandio is getting everything in order, with a SUPER LOUD air compressor filling up the tub, and people are EVERYWHERE.  And The Tornado sleeps on.  How is this possible?
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With The Tornado, I had my epidural very early.  I had no idea what labour felt like.  You guys, IT FUCKING HURTS.  I’ve never, in my life, screamed due to pain before.  And here I was, SCREAMING.  The midwives were wonderful, telling me to blow through the pain (it really did help) and to keep my screams low-pitched, because mine were getting quite high and hysterical sounding which apparently makes things worse.  Ok.  So I tried that, too. My poor mother tried to breathe with me at one point and I screamed at her to go away.  After all the thought I put into a birth playlist, Husbandio asked me if I wanted the radio on and I roared, “NO!!!”  Who knew? They kept asking me if I was feeling any pressure or if I thought I needed to push, and no, no, no…it just hurts.

​Until all of a sudden, there was the pressure.

Shit.  The tub still wasn’t filled.  I thought I was dying.  And somehow in all of this they wanted me to move myself from the living room to the bedroom?  ARE THEY KIDDING?

Apparently not.

So off we went.  Midwives and Husbandio all around me, getting me to the bedroom.  I collapsed, face-down, ass-up onto the bed and stayed in that exact position.  There was no moving.  Just screaming and fear.  Screaming and fear.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.  It hurt SO SO SO much.  I must have had my eyes closed the whole time, because when I opened them, more people were there.  Two other midwives had arrived so I quickly said hello and re-closed my eyes.  I had no concept of what was going on.  Sometime around now, The Tornado woke up and I remember ROARING at them to close my door as they rushed her past it so that she wouldn’t see me and think that I was in trouble.  And then my water broke.  POP! Just like that.  OMG this is REAL.  This is going to happen.  SOON.  OMGNONONOI’MNOTREADY!  Then I heard the words that changed everything.

The tub is ready.

I wanted to cry.  There was no way I’d be able to get into the tub.  How?  It hurt too much.  I was too scared.  NO NO NO.  Enter the magical midwives to save the day.  All hands on deck yet again, and somehow they managed to get me into the tub.

Magic.

The water was like a barrier that stopped all pain and fear.  As more of me disappeared into the water, I could feel the terror lifting.  Any part of me that was in the water KNEW that I could do this.  We had this.  Husbandio and the midwives (or maybe just Husbandio?  I dunno…my eyes were still closed) were pouring water down my back and it was magical.  The window was opened so I could get a bit of a breeze, and I could feel it.  Everything was changing.  I felt superhuman.  And thank god because it was TIME.  I took a deep breath and screamed again, but this time it wasn’t terror, it was determination.  And when I reached down, there was the head.  THE HEAD WAS OUT!  OMG THE HEAD WAS OUT!  So now it was time for another deep breath.  As I inhaled, I must have risen a little bit because I IMMEDIATELY felt what seemed like 50 hands on my backside, pushing me down.  The baby HAD to stay under the surface of the water.  So I parted my legs and feet further, sank deeper into the water, and pushed again.  I reached down as I pushed and there he was.  My baby.  I CAUGHT MY BABY!  My baby my baby my baby…I pulled him out of the water, held him to my chest and just like that, it was over.

My baby.
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And everything they say is true.  NONE of the pain mattered anymore.  None of the terror.  None of it.  Because I was a superhero.  I DID THIS.  Nothing I have ever done has ever affected me so deeply.  Nothing could have prepared me for how I would feel when I caught my baby, in my bedroom, surrounded by my husband and some amazing women.  This was the real deal.

While my amazing mother in law made me bacon and eggs, I sat in bed, nursing my baby, while all the midwives surrounded me, making sure I was doing ok and going over all the details of what a perfect birth it was.  I wish I had a picture of that moment, because it was magical.  It totally appealed to my love of my tribe and my inner hippie may have been doing some crazy dancing inside my head at this point.  I thought my face would break in half from all the smiling.

Total labour – four hours.  Total time pushing – two minutes.  Yup.  I’ll take it.  It was magic.  I roared out my baby in a bath tub, caught him, and still looked fabulous.  THAT, kittens, is success.
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I’ll spare you the details of the following week, which we spent in the hospital (DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT) because everyone is FINE and it’s all just a horrible memory.  We’re home now.  We came home on Friday and spent the day celebrating.

I told Husbandio, over a glass of wine, that I feel more HUMAN again.  He turned to me and said, “Technically LESS human.  When you’re creating life, it’s the most human you can ever get.”

​Hmmm…when did I marry such a smarty pants?

(shared with permission)