Our birth before that was a hospital birth. It was, hand down, the most degrading experience I’ve ever had. The nurses were unfriendly, business-like and curt. My labor and delivery nurse had no time for questions. The only time I had her full attention was when she failed to manage the pitocin drip in my IV that set my arm on fire (sensation-wise). I left that hospital with a new beautiful new baby, but violated in body and spirit. I was mistreated by every single hospital staff. Since then, I’ve never looked back. I’ve gone on to have five successful, healthy and very smooth home births. My first born son was the beginning of it all!
Yes, I remember that day he was born, I rocked in my favorite rocking chair in immense pain, oblivious to all else, even my husband who was diligently rubbing my feet with coco butter. Yes, I was overcome with pain and intense concentration, but I was free. Free to move, free from fear, free from policies, judgment and prejudice. That freedom spurred me on and gave me that confidence. When it was time for him to arrive, I got in that tub, squatted and pushed him out! What makes its all the more memorable, was that I delivered him! Not my midwife or her assistant, me!
What a special day that was for all of us! As I sing happy birthday to him, I remember what I overcame to have him (and his siblings) at home...with freedom, surrounded by love. It’s not just his birthday, in more ways than one, it was mine too. Happy Birthday Ezra, I love you so much!