I gave birth where I live – in Iceland. In Iceland, you can give birth in a small, home-like room created by midwives, in a hospital, or at home.
After reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, I realized just one thing (apart from the fact that a woman can experience an orgasm during childbirth!): you need to dream and manifest your ideal birth scenario, but at the same time, understand that unforeseen situations can arise. So, it’s very important and necessary to remain open.
I dreamed of giving birth in a small environment supervised by a few midwives (in Icelandic, ljósmóður, which literally means “mother of light”). I had already met them a few times for conversations, but in the end, I gave birth in a hospital. My blood pressure had risen, raising concerns about preeclampsia, so I needed medical supervision.
After a long discussion with the doctors (which was needed to dispel my doubts and uncertainties), we decided to start labor induction. A couple of days of taking pills yielded no results. The next step was the insertion of a balloon, but while a young resident was practicing, my cervix dilated to 3 cm, and my water was broken manually. I just heard the doctor say, “Well, we saved 12 hours.”
Oh my gosh, I completely forgot to mention that the night before, I didn’t sleep at all, as if on purpose. I was already exhausted, and the whole childbirth was still ahead!
With the first midwife who took care of me on the day of delivery, we just chatted and giggled, and time flew by unnoticed. The contractions were manageable; I controlled the pain with breathing. I imagined the pain as waves that come and go. But when her shift ended and stronger contractions began, a darker moment set in. With the new midwife, we couldn’t connect – she suggested I try gas, which only annoyed me and made me nauseous. I tried joking, but she stubbornly didn’t laugh. We were like mismatched puzzle pieces, and there was nothing to be done.
But then my beloved partner's support shone through. He found ways to give me strength. And, honestly, all I wanted was sleep! And.just.sleep!
During the relentless contractions, I saw a new face. If an angel took human form, her name would be Hjördís. In the first few seconds, I felt trust and love. “With her, I just want to give birth,” I thought.
The pain felt like menstruation times a hundred (I don’t know if induced contractions really hurt more than natural ones). I kept my eyes closed the whole time. I requested an epidural, although I wanted as few interventions as possible. The pain was so frequent and exhausting that I wanted some relief. The morphine given earlier had only a brief effect. I remember being told not to move before the epidural, and I couldn’t imagine how I could comply because my body was so worn out. My partner was a huge support, encouraging me and believing I could do it. And I did.
And now the pushing! Very soon after, I felt the head clearly and knew exactly where it was. I changed position and imagined I was a birthing mammal. At first, I felt like a cow, then a whale, and later a gorilla. It all went very slowly because the epidural dulled the sensation of contractions. I couldn’t tell when it was time to push. A new midwife arrived with a light piece of fabric, and we began what I consider one of the most fun (don't get me wrong, also one of the hardest) parts: I grabbed one end, she held the other. While I pushed, we pulled the fabric in opposite directions. The adrenaline rush felt like a competition: whoever pulled more would win. The process moved. After a while, the head came out, and with one more push, the entire body followed (phew, compared to the head, it was nothing!). One of the most wonderful moments was when my angel – midwife Hjördís – said: “Monika, catch, the baby is coming.” And I caught him with my bare hands!
And so, at 3:17 a.m., my little pea was born. He arrived on the same day as Jesus, so I had been unwrapping my Christmas gift for the past nine months.
