The birth of Zacharias

Zacharias’ birth began several weeks before he finally landed in my arms. It was a spiritual journey into myself and a very intense inner work before my body, mind and spirit could fully open, let him go and guide him earthside.

I had actually thought, and felt guided, that I would give birth right around week 37. So when I started getting the first pre-labour contractions at that point, I was convinced I was right. But it took almost 3 more weeks before the birth finally came.

The night of November 16th, I wake up as many nights before this one, around 4 am and feel a contraction. I get up and go to the bathroom. I try to dismiss it because I can't bear the disappointment once again of thinking there's a birth underway, only for it to just fade away again and again.

But when, an hour later, I have to admit that the few contractions I’ve had actually pinch quite a bit more than they usually do, I get up and go into the living room, where I sit down with my knitting, a cup of tea and candlelight. 

I start timing the contractions and recording how intense they are. I’ve never been in the latent phase before, as the other two births started with my waters breaking and then straight into active labour, so it feels really strange and a bit surreal to experience these strong contractions but with 12–15–20 minutes between them.

Around 6 a.m. the house starts to wake up, and I can feel the interval between contractions getting longer. I tell my husband that something might be happening, but that I really don’t have the energy to think about an actual birth yet. We decide to run the morning as usual and send the kids off to kindergarten and school. During breakfast I don’t have a single contraction, and I think yet again that it was a false alarm.

At a quarter to 8, I kiss the children and husband goodbye and start tidying up. Just 5 minutes after they've left, I have a contraction. A strong one. And then another. And another. I go to the bathroom and when I wipe, I see bloody show. YES! I shout! I look at myself in the mirror and say "game on".

I send a text to my husband telling him to just come home when the kids are dropped off, because now I'm sure.

It’s a good hour before he’s home and in the meantime the contractions have almost become regular, though still 10 minutes apart. I boil lots of water and pour it into thermos flasks and mugs because our hot water tank isn’t very big.

At 9:30, when my husband has come home, the contractions increase in strength and frequency. He tries to fill the pool as fast as he can, because now the contractions really hurt and are coming regularly. At 9:45 I get into the water. Oh, what a relief. 

We call the photographer, who says she can be there by 11:30. I hope she makes it because last time I only had contractions for 3.5 hours.

We had originally planned for a Free Birth (birth without a midwife) (ed. Eyajohanne is herself a trained midwife), where my mum and my doula friend were supposed to be there. My mum to help and be there for the children, and my doula friend to support and help me and my husband. But of all days, they are both unavailable.

My mum is on a plane on her way to London to celebrate my niece’s 2nd birthday, and my friend’s husband can’t look after their children because of the local elections, as he works in TV. So all of a sudden we have no helpers. We consider leaving the kids at school/daycare, even though they have both clearly said they would like to be here for the birth. And then we consider whether we should call a midwife after all. I can feel that this birth is different and more intense than the other two, so we decide to call Hillerød at 10 a.m. All these practical considerations make my contractions ease off a bit again...

At the same time, I feel a great longing for the children to be here. I cry and feel it's completely wrong if they're not here when little brother is born. My husband calls the school and asks them to send big brother Valdemar home on foot. He calls the kindergarten and asks if the head of the institution can/will drive August home - it's a 25-minute trip each way. She agrees. I cry with joy and feel the contractions rising again.

At 10:30, my big son walks through the door. A huge smile greets me and a kiss on the forehead. He has been looking forward to it SO much. He was also there when August was born 3 years ago.

The contractions wash over me and I have to cling to my husband several times. I examine myself internally and feel that I’m only 3–4 cm dilated, a bit tight and rigid at the edge of the cervix. A large, tense membrane full of water and a baby’s head that is positioned high in BI.

At 11:05 AM, the photographer and my little big August arrive at the same time. I'll never forget the joy and anticipation in his bright eyes.

Shortly after, I feel a powerful restlessness come over me and I can feel that I need to get out of the pool. The experience from my two previous births tells me that this is the stage where I suddenly dilate quickly and will probably give birth soon.

I’m practically dancing around, stomping, jumping and twisting my hips. It’s super intense and insanely painful, but because I’ve experienced it with the two other births I don’t get scared. I feel a calm and confidence that the birth is nearing its end.

At 11:40 the midwife from the hospital arrives. Really sweet and respectful. She has read my wishes in the notes and asks permission or checks in with me about what I want or need.

At 12:30 p.m. the contractions change character and I can breathe in a completely different way now. I jump into the pool and feel how the interval gets longer while the contractions grow stronger. In my midwife brain, and with the experience from my previous births, I think, “Perfect – I’m in transition now.” I even say it to my husband. That I expect the pushing stage is getting close. I feel a light pressure at the back during a contraction and I’m just happy at the thought.

I examine myself again and can indeed feel that I’m now almost fully dilated. There’s only a small rim at the front behind the pubic bone. His head is still at the brim, but the water bag is almost down on the pelvic floor. That’s what’s giving me the slight urge to push. In my head I’m thinking that we’re just waiting for the waters to break and then he’ll probably come flying out.

At 12:45, I examine myself again. No change internally. I start to doubt what I've felt inside because the contractions become more painful again. I'm afraid he won't be able to come out or that this pain will last for hours yet. So I ask the midwife to examine me properly - on land. So I get out of the tub and lie down on the sofa.

She confirms what I’ve felt myself. Almost fully dilated, a rim at the front, taut membranes and a baby’s head at the brim of the pelvis.

While the midwife is examining me, my waters break in the middle of a contraction. Clear fluid. Good heart tones. She tries to push the rim at the front during a contraction, but it won’t move.

I get back up on my feet. Next to the pool. It’s 1:16 p.m., the pain is unbearable and I panic. I shout that it feels wrong. As if he can’t be there. My hips feel like they’re going to shatter into a thousand pieces and it’s tearing in the front over the pubic bone. I think we have to go to the hospital because he’s not coming.

I get on all fours on the floor leaning over the edge of the tub while my husband holds me upright from behind and the midwife presses hard around my hips.

The midwife tries to calm me and reassure me that it will be okay. She suggests that we try to push the lip away again. I agree with her but physically I cannot move from the position I’m in. I feel trapped. After 3–4 contractions like this I decide to try to push the lip away myself.

At 1:28 PM, I insert two fingers and manage to keep the edge away for the next two contractions. I feel his head rotate and at the same moment push forward and down. I have a strong urge to push. I just need to get into that pool now.

At 1:32 p.m. I get into the pool while roaring “he’s coming now!!!!” 

My eldest son comes running, tries to get his little brother to come too, but he won’t.

I gasp as much as I can because I can feel little brother just flying out. The head is born and there’s a brief break between contractions. I can feel him rotating his shoulder behind my pubic bone and I say to him, “come out – you can do it”. I ease him free and he swims out calmly into the water.

I am completely shocked and can hardly focus, for the first minute, on the fact that he has actually arrived. The only thing filling my mind right then is the pain and the feeling that I shattered into a thousand pieces down below.

After a few breaths, I land and can suddenly connect with the little body and soul I have in my arms. The finest, most beautiful little creature.

At the examination a little later it turns out that I didn’t tear at all. Not a single graze. I am amazed and grateful.

On the couch, little brother gets his first sip, and when the placenta is out, I take a piece from it and blend it into a smoothie that I drink.

My husband helps me salt the placenta and get it into my little homemade bag. But unfortunately I don’t have the strength to make prints of her or separate the mother’s part to have capsules made with placenta powder. My dear friend was supposed to help me with all of that. It was the wildest and most intense birth of all 3 I’ve had. Throughout the pregnancy Zacharias has been telling me that everything would be/turn out different. He has a very strong and insistent energy that grounds and connects.

He is the strong silent type