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Gaia Midwifery P.C.

"Childbirth with Choice"

Discover the difference a Midwife Makes!

Birth Stories:

Stories shared with permission of our very special families!

A Fathers Story - by Nick Raio

A new member of the tribe arrived last night at 9:14pm but not without a fight. Apparently, Calder liked his mommy's womb so much, he was hesitant to leave it. Can't say as I blame him. Karin labored for nearly 40 hours. She did not take any drugs for the pain, which was, at times excruciating. Karin took control at 9pm and taught Calder his first lesson - about who was in charge. She simply insisted he come out and meet his parents. Despite repeated attempts to scurry back up into the safety of the womb, Calder came out with his mouth open, screaming his presence to the world. He does not yet have the power of words, but I'm pretty sure he was saying HERE I AM.

Karin was simply amazing. She is the strongest person I have ever known. You have never in your life seen anyone so calm, so brave, so focused, so dedicated to her child. Karin was a hero last night, to me, to our baby, and truly to anyone who saw her struggle. It was the hardest thing she has ever done, and she stepped into it with power, with grace and with unfathomable courage.

In the last 30 or so years, Motherhood has taken a hit in some quarters, by some feminists, as something less than befitting a strong modern woman. While surely that attitude has resulted from the years of patriarchial oppression of women in modern western society, nothing - nothing- could be further from the truth.

Any woman who ever doubts the nobility, the beauty or the honor of motherhood, should have been in that room with us to witness what I saw - a woman in complete control of her body and her life, fully conscious and capable of ferocious, irrepressible love. And any man who ever doubts a woman's ability to accomplish anything, anything, in this life has certainly never seen one in her finest moment. I was fortunate enough to bear witness to one such woman, in one such moment, and it was something to see. I plan on telling my son this as soon as he is able to understand the words. And he will understand.

He will understand that his mother is a warrior of peace. A warrior of love. Karin suffered pain and mental exhaustion to ensure that her son, my son, our son, would be born into his life fully conscious without any drugs coursing through his veins, and subsequently fully aware of his entry into the world. She fought for his health. She fought for his spirit. She fought for his life. And he appreciated it. Calder took to his mothers breast immediately. He hugged her tight in his first minute of life while the umbilical cord, still attached to his mother, pulsed gently between his skin and hers.

So Calder is born unto this world with a crushing, all encompassing love and respect for the woman in his life. Many men forget this. I will make sure this young man never does.

I have never had more faith in the human race than I do right now. I am joyful and hopeful for this world because of this baby, the woman I married, and the lesson I learned last night about how truly powerful human beings can be.

My Birth Story

Mark and Jessica Hemmerdinger

In my 35th week of pregnancy I decided to switch from my doctor to a midwife. I decided that I wanted to have a waterbirth and from there I met Dale Cook. From the first visit with her I knew that I had made a life altering change. I felt so much more comfortable than I ever did with my doctor.

Mark and I began preparing for the labor. We got our labor and hospital bags ready by the middle of November. We felt so informed and ready! I rented a bath tub (Aquadoula) from “9 months and beyond” and it was all set up in my kitchen by the third week in November. I hired Tina as my doula. I was all set! Now it was just a waiting game.

At 1pm on December 11th I began having regular Braxton Hicks contractions. They were 15 minutes apart for a couple of hours. I decided to go for a swim to see if they kept coming consistently. In the pool I felt weightless. I began feeling really excited!

Mark came home from work at 5:45pm. The contractions were now harder to handle and I needed to focus to get through them. Getting on my hands and knees was the most comfortable position for me. I swayed my hips and let out a low moan to get through them. I tried picturing myself running up a hill as I was having a contraction. That was really helpful. When Tina arrived at my house at 9:30 pm I got into the tub. Phew! I love the weightless feeling. It took so much pressure off of my back and the heat was soothing. Mark set up an amazing atmosphere in our home. All of the lights were low. We had candles burning and our favorite music playing. The contractions were getting harder and harder to handle. By 1am we decided to head over to the hospital.

The drive over to NUMC wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be. I was in the backseat, slumped over the back of the backseat. Tina would put pressure on my hips through each contraction. They were painful. It was as if I would enter into a different world as the contraction came on. My mind would check out and go numb until it was over. The time in-between them was blissful!

Dale was at the hospital when we got there. So soothing, and calming! Triage wasn’t that bad. I had worked myself up to dread the 25 minutes I had to be in there. I was 5 centimeters dilated (well, really 4 ½). Dale noticed that the baby was acynclitic. She suggested I walk around and step up on the side of the tub until the tub was filled. After many, many contractions dancing with Mark and sitting on the toilet, the tub was filled. I was so happy to finally get in! It was so soothing and warm! It really mellowed me out in-between the contractions; however, the contractions became much more powerful by that time. I was having a really hard time getting through them. I had to have either Mark or my mom in my face talking me through them.

Dale suggested I get out of the tub and go through some contractions on the toilet. I started seeing blood as I urinated, which excited me. It made me believe we were progressing! Dale checked me and noticed that I hadn’t made much progress. Big bummer! It was decided that my bag of waters be broken. I really wanted everything to happen naturally. What a crazy feeling that was. Hot gushing water spewing out of me! It felt kind of nice…until I saw the look on EVERYONE’s face. The fluid was filled with Meconium. That was the end of the tub and my personalized birth plan. The birth was now in the hands of Dale and the hospital staff. The baby’s heart rate now had to be monitored continuously and I couldn’t be far from the bed. I felt defeated and frustrated. The tub was three feet away and I couldn’t get in! Dale checked my dilation again and she said I lost a centimeter. Ugh! I could not handle the contractions anymore. Lying on my back was awful. I tried leaning over the back of the bed…that was worse. The pain in my lower back was like nothing I can explain or would have ever imagined!

Dale saw that I was losing it. After 17 hours of labor, my eyes were rolling back in my head and I could barely focus. I started to cry when I said that I wanted the Epidural. It made me feel weak. I had come this far, and now I was giving in to the pain. The pain was controlling me now. I had to be wheeled in to another, much less friendly room. Dale lost the “please let her walk” battle. Some walking would have done me and the baby some good, but the hospital staff wouldn’t hear of it. “No dripping on the floors!”

Once in the “Epidural” room, a nurse came in to give me an IV. Yuck! I hate needles…but I didn’t seem to care. Just take the pain away! The IV barely bothered me. The pain from the needle didn’t compare to the pain from the contractions! They kept saying, the anesthesiologist is on his way! Looking back, it’s hard to believe that after all of my preparation and soul-searching, I was about to get the Epidural without flinching. It is amazing what a lack of sleep and a loss of confidence can do to a person. On top of all of this, the baby’s heart rate started to drop and I had to wear an oxygen mask. Everyone was scurrying around and demanding that I change my positions. I was so scared!!! Mark looked petrified!

Once the heart rate was stable, Dale decided to check me one more time. The look on her face was priceless and will be etched in my mind forever. “She’s fully dilated!”

It was time to push and there would be no Epidural. Ok. I heard Dale say “I hope she likes pushing!” With my first push everyone seemed impressed with my pushing ability. It was rejuvenating to feel good about something! Dale put her fingers exactly where she wanted me to focus the pushing. I pulled against two bars and pushed against the bed with my feet. I could feel her twisting out of me. What a painful, but exhilarating feeling! I pushed for an hour and a half. I prayed that each push would be the last. It felt nice to put the pain to good use with the pushes. I just wish I had the energy to keep pushing through the entire contraction. The pain after the push was the worst pain of all!

I was wheeled into the delivery room where a pediatrician was waiting to aspirate the baby when she was born. I still wasn’t crowning and Dale said that I NEED to get her out now quickly. Phew…such pressure! I wish I had a video of Mark’s face when the head came out. It was ultra motivating. He told me later that Dale had her fingers in me to my throat…trying to pull her out. The pain from the “ring of fire” didn’t really faze me. When the body came out, it just felt warm and smooth.

I couldn’t see any of it. I wanted to see it all! I wanted her to come swimming out of me into the tub. I wanted her to lie on my body with the umbilical cord still attached. I wanted to start breast feeding right away. None of this became a reality. None of it mattered.

Lena Rose Hemmerdinger was born at 10:26 am on December 12th, 2007. She needed to be whisked away to the NICU where she would be on antibiotics for a week. After spending a week in the Neonatal ward I realized how lucky we were. There were so many sick babies in there with so many sad, worried parents. Mark and I felt so lucky that Lena was going to be fine.

My laboring experience is so precious to me now. Looking back, it was my support team that gave me the encouragement I needed to get through. I was able to open my heart and embrace the experience. I was truly inspired by the experience. I can’t wait to do it all over again!

Ethan's Homebirth

For the first 7 months of my pregnancy, I was going to give birth with an OBGYN at Long Island Jewish Hospital. That was until I saw "The Business of Being Born" at a special screening in Huntington, Long Island a few months ago. I think I cried for most of the movie, especially when natural child birth was depicted with midwives either at home or at birthing centers. The difference between the hospital and home birth was so severe, and I knew at that moment, that I did not want my little boy to be born in a hospital. Strangely enough, I had just taken the tour of the hospital the previous night, and cried all the way home, because it didn't meet my expectations of child birth. Abby Epstein, the film's director was there to answer our questions after the movie, and I raised my hand and thanked her for having made the movie and asked her if it was too late to change my birth plan. She said that it was never too late, and so the next day I started my research into the

possibilities of a home birth for me and my babe. I ended up finding a fabulous midwife and hired my Bradley Class Teacher as my Doula. What is best is that I figured out that this homebirth can be paid for by my insurance company. And, Voila! I was all set.

My baby Ethan decided to arrive on his due date, April 28th, 2008. I actually went into early labor on the 27th. Had about 24 hours of light to moderate contractions, during which I went on with the normal course of my life. My water broke at 9pm on Sunday, the 27th of April just as my Doula, Celeste Rachelle, arrived. What timing, Celeste!! Once the water broke, things got serious. The contractions came on with a fury. My Doula called my midwife, Dale Cook, and told her to get here as soon as possible as the contractions were growing much stronger and closer together. I did some laboring on my bed during which my dog Lucky eased my pain by licking my entire face. They say that there is no therapist like a puppyy licking your face....they are right!! When the Midwife arrived with her assistant, she checked me and told me that I was 5cm dilated. She told me to walk up and down the stairs once or twice to help move things along. I wondered if I would make a flight of stairs

without having a serious contraction right in the middle an fall down. But, I'm strong and did as asked, which helped the whole process along as predicted. I felt ready to get into the birth pool set up in my yoga studio. I desperately needed the comfort of the water. When I got in the water, the pain was somewhat eased. I played around with different positions in the water, but the best one for me was on all fours, which eventually tired out my arms and knees. I needed something or somebody in the water to support me or to hang on to, so I asked my husband Moshe to get in the water with me. As the pushing phase started, I ended up on my back leaning against my husband's embrace. I soaked in the silence and comfort between the contractions, patiently waiting for the next contraction so I could push. I pushed and pushed for two hours, and was beginning to feel so exhausted. I thought I can't keep working this hard forever, I'll die right here. My midwife told me that the

problem is that my perenium is a very strong and tight muscle and she was having a hard time getting it to stretch. She said that although she would like to avoid it, she might have to give me an episiotomy. She said that I needed to give it one more good push, sort of like a last chance effort before getting cut. And, so I braced myself, took the deepest breath I have ever taken, and puuuuuushed the hardest I have ever pushed. And, all of a sudden, just like that, and in one fell swoop the entire baby shot out of me. I was so surprised, because after all that, I didn't think it would end so quickly. And, I was so utterly relieved. The pain and the intense pressure and burning had finally ended. And, of course, my little boy was in my arms, and I was in daddy's arms, and we enjoyed this amazing family hug in our little birth pool in our little yoga studio at home. Ethan was born at 2:25am on April 28th, 2008, only 5.5 hours after my water broke. They were the longest hours

of my life, but I would do it all over again in the same way, at home, in the water, no drugs, same midwife and doula and husband, of course!! What a team!

Yosaif's Homebirth

Little Yosaif was born April 11th, a week after Rosh Chodesh Nissan. I had some flu-like symptoms on that Thursday and thought maybe this was a precursor to real labor. I had been three centimeters dilated for about three weeks, so I didn't want to assume that I was in labor. Who knew when I was going to actually be in real labor! I'd been having contractions off and on for months, it seemed.

On Friday morning at 8am I started to feel some pains that hurt and I said, "Oh yeah, this is what real contractions feel like." When you feel them- you know. They are different from the preparatory Braxton Hicks contractions. If you're not sure, it's not them.

So I was quite sure I was in early labor. Every 20-30 minutes, I would have to kind of focus a bit on the wave in my womb. I ate a big breakfast of oatmeal and cottage cheese with fruit and packed lunches for Chana and Dasi. Chana was going to stay late at preschool and Dasi was going to be at the daycare in Chana's preschool for the day, until Aunt Esty came to watch them. The girls were really excited to be bringing their lunches to school--we told them that MAYBE today the baby was coming (we still were afraid that the labor would stall, having had a lot of false alarms already.)

I started washing the kitchen floor so it would be clean for Shabbat and cleaned up the house for this, our third homebirth. I called Dina, my doula and said I didn't need her yet, but she decided to take the next train so she wouldn't miss it. I called my midwife Dale and she said she'd come check me when the pains were 10 min. apart, and that I should call back back soon to report any changes.

Fred and I were busy-he ran to the store to buy me juice and some things for Shabbat. I put the plastic down on the bed downstairs and made sure the tub was properly inflated for this, our second waterbirth.

I told my sweetie I wanted to take a walk so the pains would get closer and stronger--I was so ready to have this baby!--Yosi, I had waited so long to meet you. I could hardly wait. I thought that it would be great to give birth before Shabbat, which Hashem kingly granted us. (Yosi was born at 5:38pm and candle lighting was around 7pm.)

I washed part of the kitchen floor and then had a nice salad with cheese and tuna for lunch with Fred. Fred finished the floor for me cause I didn't want to tire myself out before I hit active labor. But I did belly dance through quite a few contractions--I am not like my mom or many other women, who have to sit and concentrate when they have surges--I HAVE to move to cope, to distract myself from the powerful rush of energy moving down through me. After lunch I took a shower so I would have clean hair for the labor and birth; I didn't want to be a dirty hostess for this homebirth! We also defrosted the spinach lasagna for the attendees. Homebirth is the way to go, but it takes a lot of preparation.

After my shower, I dressed in a loose cotton dress. The water had felt so nice on my back during contractions and I prayed that Yosi was in a good position. Dale had thought that he might be slightly posterior, but he wasn't and I had no back labor, thank the good Lord.

So Fred and I labored on....around noon, we took a walk up the cul de sac. I squeezed my husband's hand during contractions. We walked along and when we ambled back, Bonnie, the synagogue secretary, was at our house. Fred had asked her to pick up the girls from school. He ended up doing it though cause they were worried the girls would be scared and not remember Bonnie. Dina, my doula extraordinaire, and cousin Esty arrived then in a cab from the train station. Esty watched our kids when I was in labor and stayed that first Shabbat with us. I really don't know how we could have gotten through without either of them. Hashem does send you help when you need it -- in so many forms.

At one point, Dasi wanted to get in the tub with me and Chana looked like she was about to burst into tears cause I was yelling or something, so Esty took them upstairs so I wouldn't be distracted. I felt like a star, having all these people rush around to help me on my big day. Too bad I didn't get my hair and make-up done, with a personal massage to boot!

I think every woman in labor should be treated like a Queen and after the birth too! Labor changes you and women need to work through their experience by talking or crying or praying or just thinking. I feel that I am a different person each time I give birth---that I have to sacrifice myself to have my baby. The pain of labor and pushing out a child from the inner depths of my body is so mind-altering that every time I feel that I am going to die, but, thank G-d, I didn't die and my babies are alive and well.

When Dina came, I took a walk outside with her too down the street and in the backyard. Then we went upstairs to bellydance a bit. It was getting crowded downstairs. I needed some space so I had some nice talks with Dina--about things I've been thinking about the whole pregnancy, like how I don't want to be a Rebbetzin at a conservative synagogue, and why G-d punished women with labor pain. No doubt about it--my womb was flexing and my cervix was stretching and all this energy was rushing around in my body and in my head. I remember seeing a cardinal flying past in the backyard--I was sitting on the birth ball--and it felt like a sign straight from G-d. Dina lent me her tehillim book (of Psalms) and I said one or two. I was so grateful not to be doing this alone--grateful that if I had to do labor again, then at least I could do it with other women helping me. Dina held my hand as we walked around the backyard through contractions.

In a way, labor transforms us into little children again. We are all children of G-d but I think we feel it most intently when we are in pain and in need of G-d's help!

For one contraction, I asked Fred to rub my lower back while I went on all fours. The tub was filling up slowly and was looking too hot, so Dale or Jennifer dumped some buckets of cold water in to get it to the right temp. quickly. I was so ready to hop in and hopefully not feel the surges with my "aquadural."

Dale checked how open I was -- it was 7 or 8 cm I believe. Woo hoo! Not bad. I clambered into the inflated birth pool and it felt really good. The contractions immediately got more intense, however, and I really needed Dina. (thank you Dina for being there!) The candles on the wall were lit (Dale's idea) and I asked for the shades to be drawn. I did my angel meditation--Michael on my right " the messenger angel. Gavriel on my left "angel of Justice." Rafael behind me "healing angel" and Uriel before me "angel of light."

Dina told me later that I asked her what the light was in front of my eyes. I don't remember this, cause I felt like I might be leaving this world during those last pushes, but it is interesting. Pushing was difficult, yet oddly satisfying. At least I was doing something now, instead of swimming around the tub trying to flee this pain, trying to center myself. Still, when Yosi was crowning, it was not comfortable, to say the least. I was yowling like a kitten. Maybe if I had done perineal massage or eaten less refined sugar to grow a smaller baby it would've hurt less?? Yosi was eight pounds, nine ounces, which I was happy about. And, thank G-d, he has nice big healthy shoulders.

Anyway, before pushing, the few contractions of transition were pretty much awful...I asked for essential oils to smell. Frankincense transported me to another place where the pain did not exist.

I also was tired, but didn't feel like more smoothie drink. I drank Ninxia Red from Young Living, an energy supplement, and it did the trick. I was also cramping a bit in one leg and was scared that I wouldn't be able to push in the squatting position that I was in in the tub. But the drink and some stretching of my foot helped smooth that out, thank G-d!

I reached down and felt the head about an inch inside me-so close! This is what I had been so waiting for the past ten months. I pushed, those there were no contractions, and said "What do I do now?" I had forgotten how to push a baby out. Dale said, wait for a contraction and push. So I did, and it hurt a lot, but thankfully I don't remember exactly how it felt anymore. I pushed for all i was worth, and moaned and groaned. I felt the hair on the baby's head inside. Finally, the head was out. And then the shoulders came out and whew, I was done! Dale lifted the baby to the surface and put him on my chest. I leaned back and looked at this amazing baby-with so much hair and the sweetest most wondering little look on his face. He still has the little look sometimes now at a month old. I felt so blessed to finally meet this little stranger who I'd been having conversations with for the past nine months (rather one-sided conversations, though). It was a holy moment--newborns are holy--it is like they come straight from the Source and if they could only speak, they could tell us amazing stories about Hashem and the angels and everything in the Torah. I really need some of that holiness now, to be a good mother to my girls and to little Yossi. It's so hard to be patient and kind all the time. Even as I write this, over two weeks later, I've been trying to not lose my temper with Chana and Dasi as they interrupt my writing over and over. Labor is hard work, some parts, but so is being a mommy, sometimes. For me, transition and pushing were tough this time, but it was so worth it. And I was blessed with my Neshamaleh (little soul) who we named Yosaif at his bris two weeks ago.

We were shocked when we saw that Yosaif was a boy--we really couldn't believe it, as I had been quite certain it was a girl all along. But then, I had also been certain that Dasi was a boy, so who can know these things? We were glad to have a little boy, and I hope to be a good mother to him, with G-d's help.

And I am happy to report that Chana and Dasi have been happily playing this whole time I've been typing and Yossi has been sleeping soundly like a good boy in his car seat.

"Birth Blessings"

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Prepare mind, body, and soul for a satisfying birth experience.

Esther Meira's Birth Story

One Thursday during the sixth month of my fifth pregnancy, I was reviewing chumash (bible) with my eldest daughter. She was studying parashas Shemos and had just learned the pasuk (verse) which relates Shifrah and Puah’s response to Paraoh’s (Pharoah’s) instructions to kill every Jewish-born male. “The Jewish women are not like the Egyptian women,” they say, “For they are lively. Before the midwives reach them, they give birth.” The verse struck a chord with me, as I would be using midwives for my upcoming birth, not the obstetricians I had used for my previous four pregnancies. I wondered aloud why I had never heard this pasuk quoted as one worthwhile reciting for a pregnant woman.

Later that month, however, I opened up the women’s siddur (prayer book) which my in-laws had purchased for me to the collection of miscellaneous prayers recommended for various points during the life cycle. Nestled among the prayers for a pregnant woman, and noted as an auspicious verse to recite, was the above quoted passuk. Needless to say, I began chanting it regularly.

This pregnancy, which would b’ezras Hashem produce my sixth child, felt to me more like a first. My previous four pregnancies and their requisite doctor visits, had all followed more or less the same pattern. Each month I would go to the doctor’s office where I would spend an hour in the waiting room with several other patients. Eventually, I would be taken to an examination room. There a nurse would take my weight, check my blood pressure, and tell me the doctor would “be right in.” After at least another quarter hour, the doctor would come in, listen to the baby‘s heart, check my dilation if it were the ninth month, and then dismiss me. All in all, it was generally a one and a half to two hour visit which yielded a maximum three or four minutes with the doctor.

Though the doctors were mostly nice enough, I can’t say I ever felt like I had a relationship with them. I certainly never felt comfortable discussing any problems. The issues I did muster up the courage to mention were mostly brushed aside as “normal” or “insignificant.” As if, so long as there was no mortal danger to the fetus, issues that affected my emotional well being were irrelevant. But at the time, I didn’t know of any other option in prenatal care.

My first five births were likewise “textbook” experiences. I would decide I was in labor because contractions were more or less five minutes apart, and go to the hospital. Once there, I would be strapped to two monitors - one for contractions and one for the baby. Before long, the anesthesiologist would come and suggest that I have an epidural “before it got too hard”, so I would get an epidural and an IV. Of course, my blood pressure was monitored every five to fifteen minutes, and the cuff was automated, so that stayed on, too. After a while, pitocin would be indicated because my contractions had slowed down or were not effecting dilation “quickly enough.”

Eventually, it would be time to push. I would have no way of knowing that, of course, because of the epidural. Instead, the doctors would tell me to push and I would half sit up, push so hard I burst blood vessels, and after dozens of pushes, the baby would finally be out.

After my fourth child was born, my blood pressure shot up inexplicably. She was born Motzai Tisha b’av so I had basically been fasting for 30 hours. I was famished, but the nurses would not let me eat until I went up to my room, and they would not let me up to my room until my blood pressure dropped. They kept me in “recovery” for several hours while they panicked over my blood pressure and my bleeding. One nurse insisted on taking my blood pressure while I was in the middle of nursing my brand new baby. I got very upset, but she insisted that it had to be every fifteen minutes and could not wait a few more. Of course, my blood pressure shot up, and she took the baby away and instructed me to lie on my left side to bring the pressure down. Eventually, the nurses were persuaded to bring me to a room where I had something to eat and lo and behold, my blood pressure went right down to normal.

Exactly four years later, when I gave birth to my fifth child, it was two days after tish’a b’av. Again, my blood pressure shot up. Again the nurses insisted on keeping me in “recovery.” I tried to explain to them that this had happened the previous time and that if they would just let me have something to eat, I would be just fine. They refused. The scenario of four years previous played itself out again.

After this experience I told Avi that from then on I would bring food in a brown bag to the hospital. I would tell the nurses that it was a religious object that I must have with me at all times. Then, when they weren’t looking, I would eat it. Luckily, that never became necessary.

I have a hard time pinpointing exactly when my view of birth, and how it should be, changed. I do know that several months before I became pregnant again, a friend who is a doula began to encourage me to take a course and become one myself. I did actually register for the course, and attended the first phase of it. There my eyes were opened to the possibilities in birth. What I heard about natural childbirth, trusting one’s body and the process of birth, and the downfalls of interventions resonated with me.

A few months later, I attended a friend’s birth as a doula in training. There I watched everything happen just as it had been described at the course. My friend is a very strong woman. She arrived at the hospital handling her contractions just fine. She did not even need massaging or the birthing ball I had schlepped along. A short time later, the nurses had her in a bed. Within seconds she was complaining of the discomfort. She told the nurse she was much more uncomfortable lying on the bed. “Don’t kid yourself and think it would be better if you were standing up.” the nurse said. “There’s a reason they call it ’labor’.” I went to ask one of the nurses if she could have an extra hospital gown to wear backwards so she could more comfortably walk around. “You can have the gown,” the nurse told me, “but she’s not walking around. She’s going to be in the bed.”

In almost no time at all, my friend was asking for an epidural (which the nurses had suggested about 8 times.) Sure enough, her contractions slowed down so she was given pitocin. She was also hooked up to an IV and had a blood pressure cuff and a pulse monitor on as well. After several hours she also needed a catheter. Eventually, she did dilate to 10 centimeters, but the baby never descended. He was still at -1 station when the doctor ordered her to push. She narrowly escaped a C-section, but only with the help of a fundal press, an episiotomy, and a vacuum extraction. I was positively horrified.

Because my life with five young children did not allow for it just then, I chose not to finish the course at that time. But that one day, plus my experience with my friend, had been enough of an education. “Next time,” I told my husband, “we go with a midwife!”

Next time came along soon enough. Only a few weeks after the course, I found out I was pregnant. After visiting my old OB once, (“so you think you’re pregnant?” a nurse asked condescendingly. “Listen lady,” I thought, “I have five kids. I know what pregnant feels like, and I KNOW I’m pregnant! But if you want to use your little dipstick because you think I’m too stupid to read the results on a First Response test, go right ahead.”) I knew I wasn’t going back. I was ready for a change.

It took me a while to decide whom I was going to use as a midwife. The first decision I had to make was, would this be a home birth or would I use a hospital? Early in the pregnancy, home birth sounded enticing. But discussions with my parents and in-laws induced panic and horror. So I decided to keep my options open and use a midwife who did both home and hospital birth.

I met Dale and Susan when I was about 8 weeks pregnant. What a difference! It wasn’t like going to a doctor at all; it was more like meeting new friends. Our first meeting, and almost all of our subsequent ones, lasted a full hour. Dale and Susan just let me talk - about what my other births had been like, what I was doing well with and where I still needed some work (like nutrition!), even my emotional state and what brought on my ups and downs. Eventually, they took my weight and blood pressure, but it was almost like an afterthought. It certainly wasn’t the whole focus of the time we spent together.

After the first meeting, I mostly saw Susan rather than Dale because I had temporarily decided on a hospital birth, though I kept saying I might change my mind. However, Dale was still available for me if I had questions or concerns. Whenever I called either of them, their warmth and genuine concern put me at ease and helped me feel good about my decision.

The months passed by uneventfully, until finally, when I was at about 36 weeks, my husband Avi and I went for a tour of the hospital where Susan delivers. Now I’m sure the hospital is a fine one, and I knew Susan to be competent and caring, but something about the hospital made both Avi and myself uneasy. I think it was only a matter of hours before I decided that I was ready to commit to a home birth.

Dale and Susan were wonderful. My old doctors would have chided me for making a change so late in my pregnancy, but Dale and Susan were perfectly accommodating. They came to see my home, and agreed that it would work. Dale said she had a few other mothers due at the same time and so might have to be at another birth, but otherwise, she’d gladly attend me. So it was decided that if Dale could make it, I’d stay home, and if not, I’d go to the hospital with Susan.

Once the decision was made, I was perfectly comfortable with it. Actually, I was relieved! I ordered my birth kit immediately, and worried only that it would not arrive in time. What a laugh! By the time I gave birth I had had the kit for almost a month! I stocked up on old towels, plastic sheets, and everything I was told I needed. My big mistake? I neglected to tell Avi where all these carefully hoarded things were!

The next few weeks passed more slowly than any others I can remember. Nothing slows time down like a baby who refuses to come. My kids would come home from school each day, see me home in the same condition, and burst into tears, saying, “You’re STILL here?” (“Well, I’m thrilled to see you too!” I would say.) Earlier in the pregnancy, my in-laws, who generally go to Israel for Sukkos, had wanted me to ascertain the gender of my baby so they could figure out their plans, wanting to be around for what we were sure would be a Sukkos bris should the baby have turned out to be a boy. At the time I joked that Murphy’s law would have it that I would have the baby so late that, even if it turned out to be a boy, the bris would be after they would have already returned from their trip. Little did I know that it was no joke! Rosh hashana came and went. Shabbos Shuva, Yom Kippur, and then even the first days of Sukkos went by with no perceptible change. I spent the first day of chol hamoed Sukkos in Teaneck because I had started to feel like this baby would never come! I even told people “apparently this baby is not coming until Chanukah.” (Miri, my six-year-old, later said, “you were joking about that Chanukah thing, right?)

The second day of chol hamoed Sukkos that year was a Tuesday. It would be fully two weeks after my due date, and I was scheduled for a visit with my midwife and then a stress test to make sure everything was ok. Avi and I sent the four big kids with my mother-in-law to an amusement park for the day, and took our two-year-old Chavi with us, thinking she’d be too much for Bubby to handle.

Susan checked me and said I was already 3 centimeters dilated. What a relief to know that, at the very least, some progress was being made. I had been having contractions for weeks! She recommended I take some castor oil and assured me I’d be in labor in no time. Avi thought we could skip the stress test in that case, but I didn’t want to take any chances, so off we went. We stopped for castor oil on the way, planning to take some when we got home.

During the stress test, at bout 4:00 PM, I started having “real” contractions. They were becoming somewhat painful, and I could tell I was really in labor. When I was finished I told Avi, “This is it. We’d better get moving.” He kept laughing that, “My wife is in labor so I’m rushing HOME!” While we were in the car, we received a call from the doctor who had read the results of my stress test saying that he recommended “immediate delivery.” I responded that it seemed to be a moot point because I was in active labor.

We arrived home at precisely 5:00. Chavi was hungry so I gave her some left over lasagna. I went up to my room to find my bed covered with the laundry that the cleaning girl had folded. It needed sorting and putting away, so I started doing it. Avi laughed at me, wondering why, seeing as I had to stop every two minutes for a contraction, I didn’t just put the whole lot of it into baskets and forget about it, but in the throes of labor, it didn’t occur to me! During contractions I leaned on my exercise ball. Chavi kept saying, “it’s MY turn for the ball!” Funny, in retrospect.

Soon, the contractions became too strong to handle. I told Avi to call my mother in New Jersey and let her know I was in labor. He said, “I thought you did not want her here for the birth?” “Honey,” I responded, “She ain’t gonna make it for the birth. Call her!” Meanwhile, I got into the bathtub, though nothing else was really ready. I had thought I would have more time!

Chavi followed me into the bathroom, and I couldn’t deal with trying to get her out. I tried to instruct Avi, telling him where to find towels, sheets, etc, but I could hardly talk anymore. Meanwhile, Susan and Dale were both stuck in traffic, as was my doula, Tania. Avi had images of delivering the baby himself! Finally, at 5:45, Tania came. Susan arrived at about 6:00. They could both see that I was in transition, but I didn’t know it myself. I asked Susan to check me, and she said, “I promise, you, you’re almost there. It would just make you uncomfortable to check you now.” So she didn‘t. Meanwhile, I yelled at Avi to get Chavi OUT of there! He realized it was getting very close to shkiah, so he went downstairs to daven mincha and took her with him.

I had thought I would get out of the bathtub and squat when it came time to push, but, trying to find a comfortable position in the bathtub, I had gotten on my hands and knees and could not comfortably move out of that position, so I stayed that way through the birth. I soon felt the “urge to push,” (a feeling I had heard so much about, but never experienced through five other children.) Just a few minutes and a few pushes later, Esther Meira was born.It was 6:36 PM. It took some clever maneuvering on Tania’s part to get me turned around and holding the baby. She swung my leg over Esther Meira’s head because the cord was still attached and I was still on hands and knees. I held Esther Meira on my chest for a while, but the cord was quite short, so I couldn’t get her as high as I would have liked. She was so still and quiet, I was afraid something was wrong. But Susan laughed and assured me that she was fine, just content and comfortable as opposed to traumatized. Wow! You spend your whole life thinking that first cry is essential to life, obligatory! What a difference to see a quiet, alert, peaceful baby!

Just then, Avi brought Chavi, who had chosen that moment to say “I have to make!!!” up to the bathroom where her potty was. When she walked through the door to see a baby on my chest, she exclaimed, “The baby come out Mommy’s tummy!!!” and then, “Mommy, you all better now?” It was the cutest, sweetest thing.

It took a full 45 minutes and some painful contractions to get the placenta out. In the meantime, Dale had arrived, and she slipped me some concoction which I was only half aware of drinking. When I finally delivered the placenta, I showered, and then my team of three helped me dry off and get robed and into bed. Tania brought up the lasagna that chavi had left over and fed me, and I ate a good amount of kokosh cake, too.

Not surprisingly, all the issues I had had with previous births did not materialize. Dale had had me on Alfalfa and Raspberry leaf tea and they certainly seemed to have worked! No high blood pressure, no excessive bleeding. I started to believe that what everyone had told me was true: that the hospital creates as many problems as it solves. Staying at home helped me avoid problems in the first place. Everything was just perfect and peaceful and I was able to fully relax. It was truly wonderful.

It was only once I was resting that I regained enough presence of mind to notice Dale’s T-shirt. It was silk-screened with a colorful watercolor sketch of two woman, and emblazoned with the verse which precedes the one I had been reciting: “But the midwives feared G-d and did not as the king of Egypt commanded them, but saved the men children alive.”

When I tell people that I had my baby at home, many say, “I could never do that because I always have so many complications.” What they fail to understand is that using a midwife and birthing at home helps prevent the complications in the first place. Birth is a natural process that, barring pre-existing complications, generally proceeds well when left well enough alone. That rarely happens in hospital births though, and intervention of all sorts becomes the norm. Now when people ask me “would you do it again?” I say the question is whether I would use an OB and a hospital again. The answer to that is an emphatic, “NO WAY!”