Sage was the first child I carried, but she is my second daughter. My first child was carried by my wife. Labouring and pushing Sage into this work did not make me a mother. I was already a mother without doing these things. Nor was Sage's my first birth. Though I didn't carry and labour Zo into this world physically, I did in many other ways - and she will always be my first birth. I feel strongly that my wife and I both birthed Sage into this world. One of us more physically, but together undoubtedly.
Birthing Sage was epic. I was fascinated, still am, by the experience.
I was fascinated by the clarity I experienced of knowing what I needed while labouring. I don't mean that I knew what was coming or how things would progress - but I did seem to know clearly what I needed in the moment. Dark, quiet, warm, cold, encouragement, solitude...
I was fascinated by how what I wanted changed through labour. In early active labour I wanted darkness, to be completely alone, silence. I was not surprised by this - I am introverted and I open up more when I have my own little space to figure things out. But it was strange in how strongly I felt this need. Moving into a lit room where others were caused instant change in how I felt contractions. Over time I moved away from being alone to wanting to be held and supported by my wife. From silence to soft words of encouragement. From no assistance, to very rhythmic needs of sips of juice, hands held, reminders given.
I was fascinated by my posterior Sage, and how our bodies somehow worked together through 3 days of early labour to turn and prepare. I was in awe of my body. In awe of my mind. By how I clung to bits of knowledge I'd read and how those few words ran through me repeatedly. Open. Waves. Surrender.
There were a number of times in labouring Sage that I learned I was not progressing well. When I found I had not dilated the expected amount. When I learned that hours or labour work had 'produced' very little. And I was fascinated by how I met most of this news - I felt discouraged, but was able to quickly get back into things without losing it. This is not me in normal, everyday times. I love control, predictability - being rewarded my dues for my hard work. But somehow I was able to tuck away my doubts and fears until transition came along.
I was fascinated by the surprise I felt when, after coming through transition, it was time to push. I had been feeling the urge to push for a time. When I first felt the urge to push I was still 3cm shy of full dilation, and had a swelling cervix. So I was strongly advised not to push despite the very strong urges. This was the hardest time of labour - because I couldn't do what my body was trying so hard to do. I was surprised to be fully dialated only 30 minutes afterwards. Those 30 minutes were the most challenging. The feeling ot finally being able to do what I felt so strongly I needed to do was so awesome. I felt calmness again, mixed with a fear. The end was here. How do I push anyways?
The best part of birthing Sage, the part I will treasure forever - was pushing. In the birth pool I was the only one to note how she was descending. I felt the top of her head. I remember the surprise and delight. My midwife's knowing gentle smile. The loving encouragement in the room. The hands of my wife holding and supporting me. I remember holding the top of her sweet little head as she was being born.
Then she was in our arms. And I was fascinated a million times over.
Birthing Sage in this way was so powerful and positive. It is a treasure I hold on to. For days afterwards I felt disappointed to be back into the normal ryythm of things. I longed for the journey of labour again. It was other-worldly.
My experience of Sage's birth is different than my wife's. My experience of Zo's birth is also different than my wife's. I will write more about experiencing birth as a NGP (non-gestational partner) as we move towards Zo's birthday in the next month.
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