The Free Birth of Metzli Jo ☾ Part IV

Read Part III

THE AFTERWARD

Metzli was SO slippery, and not one spot of vernix remained on her skin. After looking her over and assessing her state (which was perfect), I tried to sit down so I could hold her more easily and begin to nurse her. My tailbone, however, did NOT want me to sit down, so I tried to lean back against the bed in an uncomfortable upright position, suddenly remembering that we needed to get Lorelei and Isla in the room to meet their sister! I told Ryan to call to them as I looked into Metzli’s eyes, her beautiful face pressed against my breast as she stared right through me and into my soul. It truly felt like (and still does feel like) I am her and she is me. I also know this to be true. She was an extension of my being, and I had known her for a lifetime.

I cannot quite recall the first thing I said to her, as badly as I want to. I believe it was, “Hi Metzli, you’re here! Welcome to our family,” but I really can’t be sure. I remember Lorelei and Isla running in and sitting to my right, in between me and their dad. They put a Beanie Baby on me and gave me a blanket for Metzli. I will cherish this blanket forever - I’m sentimental like that. We all looked at Metzli in awe. She was so happy, and she immediately latched on to my nipple - perfectly too. It was so nice to already have experienced breastfeeding so that this part was mostly a breeze. I was surprised at how strong and ferocious her nursing was, though. Just minutes old and already so full of life and instinct. My nipples could tell that she was more than ready to be here. She was ready to THRIVE.

I told Ryan to take pictures, so he did, and then my parents arrived. They couldn’t believe how fast Metzli was born (four hours of active labor!), and they were so excited that everyone was healthy and happy (but of course!). As much as they supported me and my plan to free birth, they were still fucking terrified that something awful would happen. I couldn’t have been happier to ease those fears by proudly showing them my beaming smile and my beautiful baby, on my bedroom floor, my body covered in blood, amniotic fluid and meconium. I felt the most natural, wild, and HUMAN that I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

Eventually I was ready to get horizontal in bed, eat a snack and drink some water. Someone (my mom, Ryan?) helped me up from the floor and guided me into bed, placing a sheet over me for warmth. I kept Metzli latched and close the entire time. It felt good to lay back and rest. As happy as I was to have finished the immediate birth process, I missed having her inside of me, safe and warm and contained.

A few moments later I felt a renewed sensation of pressure and discomfort and warmth with my continuing contractions. It was my placenta waiting to be released. Ryan went and grabbed a bowl, then came to catch my placenta as I encouraged its release. He then placed it in a container in the fridge - we were going to have it made into capsules later, and also use a portion for placenta smoothies. He said it was crazy to hold a placenta in his hands, and that it felt heavier than the baby. I do regret not holding it myself, but I was so enthralled with my child, with all of my children, that no part of me cared about sentimental curiosities outside of their magical existence in that moment. Holding Metzli as I continued to feel into my body and monitor my bleeding was first and foremost anyway.

My dad went with Lorelei and Isla to get me a snack and some water. I asked them to go to the lemon tree and pick the birth lemon that had accompanied me through my pregnancy journey. This lemon was giving birth to another lemon, and it grew and grew as I grew and grew. This was the perfect moment to join together and celebrate LIFE. This lemon was squeezed into my water and presented to me with some crackers as I had requested. This was followed by a “Happy Birthday” serenade and homemade Frozen-themed ice-blue cupcakes to celebrate Isla’s birthday, as it had passed midnight and she was now five! I stayed away from the cupcakes so as to help my body adjust a bit easier to not being pregnant, but everyone else really enjoyed them. I kind of regret this now because they seriously looked so good. 

And, oh, how beautiful my newborn child was. Her features were so tiny, yet prominent, her hands so small and yet strong, her hair so dark and soft, her feet as precious as could be. Her skin was pink and flakey, taking on the appearance of dryness. She was definitely ready to be born; she chose the perfect time. Holding her in those first moments felt like my life’s purpose had been handed to me, and it was made of the most delicate crystal. This is how I felt with all of my babies. It felt like holding literal angels in my hands, angels that I created a physical form for. Angels that I was tasked with being a spiritual guide for. With Lorelei and Isla, I did not know that I could live up to that task. But with Metzli, I knew that I could. Her sisters showed me that truth. It was evident in her beautiful baby body that she was made for this world and would be an integral part of its rebirthing.

After some time in bed I felt a strong desire to rinse off in the shower and get warm and dressed. I wanted to be cozy in bed with my family, and the cold, limp umbilical cord kept sticking to my leg and bothering Metzli while she was trying to settle and nurse without distraction. Lorelei remembered that I wanted to ask Metzli if she was ready to have her umbilical cord cut, and make sure she knew what was going to happen. So we spoke to Metzli and felt it was clear that she was ready to have her umbilical cord severed, just as I was. After boiling the metallic rainbow scissors in water for about ten minutes, I clamped and cut Metzli’s cord, and she didn’t seem to mind at all. She was peacefully nursing in her sleep, happy to be on my body. I didn’t mind either; I was ready to be unbothered by its stickiness. 

When I got up to shower, there was a decent amount of blood in the bed (we had prepped for this with layers of extra sheets and shower curtains). Isla remembers it still and my mom was worried, but I knew from my studies that blood always looks like more than it actually is, and to base any concern primarily on the mother's behavior and ability to stand. I remember dripping blood on the carpet, bathroom floor and toilet as I moved my way to the shower. There was a big blood stain on the carpet where I had birthed Metzli - in spite of the chucks pads and towels that had been laid down.  We had to drain the water from the unused bath so that I could get in, and while I waited I prepared for my first post-birth urination. The anticipation of a potential burning sensation was intense.

I sat on the toilet to pee and felt that it was the moment of truth. If there was no burn, then it was pretty much a guarantee that there was no tear. I held my breath and peed, and it didn’t hurt at all. Not one fucking bit. Yes! I was so happy. One less thing on the checklist of things to look out for, plus I felt validated in the choice to trust my body and let it open in the way it desired so as to birth my baby. My trust that I would stretch and open was not misplaced. After this win, I thoroughly enjoyed my shower, and then felt an urgency to get dressed and hold my baby.

Those initial moments of separation felt very to the point, and then very strange. I did not want to be disconnected from my baby at all, though I did want her sisters to have a chance to hold her and meet her and look into the eyes of a newborn baby. They each took a turn with their dad’s help, and I got to see the photos afterward. Everyone was so happy and radiant. The energy in the room after a blissful birth is like NOTHING I have ever experienced before. It is otherworldly.

The pad process took a bit of time. It involved an adult diaper and extra large menstrual pads placed just so. My mom helped me by retrieving the clothes I wanted to wear and making sure I stayed standing in the bathroom. I felt alert and well, and I knew that there was no concern to be had. I once again took hold of my new baby, and Ryan got to work on laundry and stripping/making the bed anew. He cleaned the entire house within an hour or so while my parents helped with Lorelei and Isla. We were very grateful this was the case when the morning came. There is nothing like waking up to your beautiful, brand new baby in a spotless house cleaned by someone other than you!

While all of this was going on, I sat with Metzli in the glider that we had set up in the living room and began nursing her. There was immediate nipple pain. I knew then that I was really in it for it with this baby, and five months later at the time of writing this, I’m still proven right. Her latch was and is stellar, but her suck remains to be very intense. There was no eliminating such a strong, innate desire to commit to life via drawing in the gift of her mother’s milk. Coping with this intensity has only made me stronger.

In those moments sitting with Metzli in the glider, there was a lot of noise surrounding us. The were still awake and very excited, asking a lot of questions and exuding an intense energy. It made me tired. I was ready to be quiet and to sleep, as by now it was somewhere around 2 or 3 a.m. Trying to recall how I got into bed and at what point the girls themselves were taken to bed and who did it is impossible. I think I asked my parents to help, but I don’t remember. My only memory is that Metzli never detached from my breast. She nursed through the night and we both remained in a half sleep of sorts.

When the next morning arrived, the girls came and climbed into bed with us and admired their sleeping baby sister. I snapped a few photos and wished Isla a happy birthday once again. We decided to still have her party that day since the baby had been born, and Ryan would have just enough time to get everything together and make it to the park to celebrate. We gave Isla her present while I nursed Metzli in bed.

My sister asked if she could come to my house with our grandma and parents to meet Metzli and make lunch. There was no pressure, but I thought their company and pre-party help would be really nice to have, so I said yes. I stayed in bed nursing until they arrived. Then I ate what my sister prepared for me - my favorite Thai food - while my grandma held Metzli and told me how proud she was of Ryan and I. It was a special moment, as it should be. Everyone was so amped on the fact that the birth went well, and we were all riding that oxytocin wave with Metzli’s every sleepy exhale. I shared the story of the birth with them and we admired how precious this baby was. She was so tiny. We had weighed her that morning and she was 7lbs 6 oz, just like her oldest sister was at birth. Holding her felt like holding the tiniest, most delicate gift from Spirit, as though I had been entrusted with a delicate baby angel who was sent to help us change the world.

After Isla, Lorelei and their dad left for Isla’s birthday party that was being thrown at our neighborhood park, I wanted my baby back, and I wanted to lay down in bed with her and take a nap. I was TIRED. So I did just that! Nicely, but unapologetically. My sister, mom and grandma cleaned everything up from lunch and quietly left for home while I slept and nursed Metzli. I remember everyone returning home from the party a few hours later right after Metzli woke up. There were so many presents and bags to go through, and it was all a bit hectic. Lorelei and Isla wanted to show and tell me everything, and Isla was so exhausted and a bit grumpy.

That night, Ryan and his three daughters read their first bedtime story together post-birth. Metzli fell asleep in Lorelei’s arms, and Lorelei fell asleep leaning back against some pillows. The book was a collection of Frozen stories that Isla got for her birthday. She was so happy and stoked on remembering her birthday fun that she managed to stay awake. It was a sweet ending to our first full day as a family of five. My body was very ready for rest, and my bed felt like such a safe haven. Sleeping only a few feet away from where Metzli was born felt like sleeping on sacred ground. I loved being in the energy the space was holding for us.

Birth is a family event, not a medical event. One must only open their mind, their heart and their arms to receive this knowing. Together, through allowing birth to unfold undisturbed, on its own terms and in an environment of love, we will create a New Earth for this and all future generations.

The Free Birth of Metzli Jo ☽ Part I

THE PREPARATION

In the days leading up to Metzli’s birth, I was forced to rest by the conjuring of a low-grade fever. My older two daughters were affected first, and me last. I remember feeling stressed about potentially laboring with a raised temperature, as well as potentially infecting my baby with whatever illness I had in her first days of life. I obsessively washed sheets and clothing and surfaces to try and keep the virus at bay, but I was essentially the virus embodied, and my baby was in my body receiving the necessary antibodies already. Funnily enough, I’ve since learned enough about germ theory to see that my actions were a huge waste of time. Regardless, my heart was in the right place.

Another questionable possibility for me was giving birth to her on her older sister, Isla's birthday, which was only days away. I wasn’t sure how that would make Isla feel, nor was I sure we would be able to have the party we planned for her. Should I cancel? I kept the party scheduled, and constantly debated how to tell Isla it would have to be rescheduled should I go into labor that very day. 

On Monday the 10th, my parents graciously offered to take both girls home after school to have some quality grandparent time and a delicious dinner. I spent that day napping, feeling existentially tired, yet calm and present as I prepared mentally and spiritually for what was to come. The house was in a state of perfection - perfectly organized, perfectly cleaned. I did what I could to channel my perfect birth scenario by writing it out, pulling oracle and tarot cards, setting intentions, journaling to baby Metzli and sitting in silence with my thoughts, fears, wishes and dreams.

To be honest, my memory of those pre-labor days were a blur. I know there was contracting happening, and there was love-making to be sure. My husband, Ryan, and I had avoided doing so for days because we weren’t quite ready to encourage labor along. I wanted to be well and he wanted to finish his workweek. But for some reason, on the morning of Monday the 10th, we knew it was a good time to send some love to my cervix and enjoy each other’s bodies before the postpartum time put a halt on our ability to physically connect in such a way.

That night, after receiving Lorelei and Isla from my parents and putting them to bed, I began contracting in a new way. It was a way I had felt once before about a week earlier, but it didn’t last then, so I prepared for this to end in a few hours as well. I remember the contractions waking me up because they always made me have to pee. They continued into the next morning, and so, after the girls went to school and Ryan returned home, we made love again, knowing that doing so was working and giving my body the message that we were ready for baby Metzli to begin her journey to our arms. I still had a low fever, but I felt okay in some strange way, and Ryan’s workweek was over, so he too was ready to begin this next phase of our life together as the stewards of our family. 

I remember the contractions intensifying as the hours passed, but staying very far apart. They were merely pauses in my daily routine, helping me connect to Metzli and prepare myself mentally for the work that lay ahead. My sister came over with my niece, who is about ten months old and pure joy to be around. She brought me nettle tea and delicious gluten free bread loaves. We walked around the backyard as I contracted here and there and my niece played on the grass.

I remember Ryan holding her and tearing up, saying he was finally feeling excited to have a baby of our own. In this moment I knew Metzli would be here VERY soon. The power of the mind should never be discounted when considering why labor has yet to start. We both needed to be ready, not just me. Finally that time was here. I really loved that morning with my sister. She and Elia were supposed to be at the birth (spoiler alert, it happened too quickly for them to make it) and it felt really good to spend that quiet time together beforehand. 

As the day continued, I noticed that my mucus plug, which had been slowly passing for a few days, was turning into more of a bloody show. Considering all of the factors presenting themselves, I knew deep down labor was going to start, but I kept myself in a state of denial so that I didn’t get too excited or anxious. I love seeing how things unfold when left alone. I am never one to interfere.

Ryan began the school pickup routine that afternoon. He took Isla shopping for birthday party snacks (she had her fifth birthday party scheduled for the following day) while I stayed home and rested as much as I could in preparation for what very well could begin at any moment. That afternoon has already slipped away from memory, becoming a part of the oxytocin blur that has combined everything into one giant cloud of bliss. I remember a lot of laying down and resting while the girls were gone. I vaguely remember them eating dinner without me since I was laying down. Ryan handled dinner, dishes and the bedtime stories and snuggles, I handled the potential early labor and unborn child in my womb. My binge show of choice at the time was The Good Place. Perfectly funny and also intelligent, it was exactly the mind-numbing medicine I needed in order to transition from day to night on what would soon become my baby’s birthday. 

Read Part II

Strength and Sacrifice

Last week I traveled by boat to Santa Barbara, past the many missing people buried in the Montecito mudslide, up and over a big and endless swell, vomiting repeatedly and shaking and shaking and shaking. It was a gnarly two hours. And then I soaked in my sister's tub in a bath of various salts to warm my body and ground myself. After all, the reason I made the trip was to support a client in labor, and she was deep in its throes by the time I arrived.  

The first thing I witnessed upon entering the birth space was my client, Lilly, being so lovingly supported by her fiance. He exuded excitement and awe toward what he was witnessing. It was beautiful. Because of his confidence, I sat on the sidelines until I was needed. They were a perfect team, so excited to meet their baby and so fully connected in that moment. 

After a drawn out transition due to a bag of waters that never broke, Lilly birthed her beautiful baby en caul, and dad announced that it was a girl - Baby Cleo. I totally cried. 

Baby Cleo's mama is an amazing photographer. View her work at lillyrosenthal.com.

The strength I've seen within my clients (some of whom nearly lost their homes in the fire), our community and the many care providers that keep us safe in an area that has experienced so much devastation is oddly in endless supply. I personally am working the hardest I've ever worked. I've pushed past almost all of my comfort zones and I'm still here, thriving and serving and learning and doing my best. And still, I feel so small.

Mother Nature is a force that no one could ever compare themselves to. She will always be the one whose mercy we are at. But it is my belief that the more we care for and respect her, the more she will care for and respect us back. She too has endless strength, but we cannot control how she chooses to use it, especially when triggered by the misgivings of manmade creations. 

All of this said, don't doubt yourself. Don't doubt what you're capable of, whether it is an unmedicated birth or making it through the coming days as you grieve all you have lost. You are surrounded by support and love and the undeniable determination of many to guide you through these times in life that seem to be the most impossible to get through. 

Though I made it to this Santa Barbara birth, I missed another birth in Ventura and had to reschedule with many people over the following days. Some understood, others didn't. Nothing is ever perfect or easy. Going above and beyond in one area means sacrifices in another. This season has taught me this repeatedly, as has motherhood. It seems to be a never-ending lesson. I embrace the fact that "perfect" doesn't exist, but so long as I do what feels right in my bones, all will be well in the long run. 

For now, I pray for my community, for all the lives lost and all those yet to come Earth side during such a tumultuous time. It isn't a perfect world to become a part of. No. It is very, very far from it. These little babies being born right now have a heavy weight on their shoulders, and it is up to us to draw on our endless strength to guide them through this new unknown. We must teach them how to care for the Earth, how to care for their neighbors, how to care for themselves and how to be a helper in times of duress. We must teach them by example - and that's the hardest part. 

I also wish the best of luck to us all as we take on the role of parent, mentor, teacher and guide. These babies deserve all of the goodness we could possibly help them find. Cheers to a better tomorrow, which is a fitting way to end this post since the 20th was my 29th birthday, a special day I share with my own mother. Even more fitting was the fact that I was blessed to attend the birth of my neighbor and friend's son, Fisher, that night. It was one of the best birthdays I've ever had, gluten-free cake and all.