The Free Birth of Metzli Jo ☾ Part III

Read Part II

THE BIRTH

With every contraction, I buried my face in the pillow I had asked Ryan for and made the loudest, wildest, most full-bodied guttural sounds that have ever emerged from my throat. I did not recognize myself, but I loved myself. I was happy to meet the Kaitlin that had been waiting so patiently within my bones and muscles. I welcomed her with open arms, and we became one. The sounds continued to pour forth and I moved my body relentlessly in ways I could not picture, but felt intuitively to be necessary. With every 10-second break I removed an item of clothing and took a deep, focused breath of air. I was in it, and I was deeply connected to my baby and my purpose. As the contractions would build, I would dive back down to the ground, my face in the pillow, my chest and arms pressed against the ground, my bottom half sometimes up in the air with knees on the ground, sometimes in more of a downward dog position. Whatever my body wanted to do I allowed it to do. I followed its lead, for I trusted that it was guiding Metzli into the portal. In fact, Metzli was all that I could think about.

With all of my clothing removed and my long wild hair pulled into a bun so that I could focus, I remember moving my body in circles and chanting her name: “Oh Metzli, Metzli, Metzli... Oh Metzli, Metzli, Metzli.” I spoke with such focused sincerity, and I remember Ryan joining in at one point as well. I screamed, “I want her out!” to let it be known that yes, this is what I wanted, and this is what I am here to do.

The more Metzli descended, the more I was ready for her to emerge. The urge to push was like a necessary function. If I didn’t push, the force of the contractions could be felt in my lungs and chest more than my pelvis and portal - a sensation that carried carried the energy of resistance, which I absolutely did not resonate with. Perhaps this is because I have a short torso, perhaps it was because of how Metzli was positioned. Either way the answer to the question presented by my body was to push downward with all of my power. It was as though my body was asking, “Can I actually do this?” Each push was an emphatic, “Yes, you can.” I also felt very supported by a maternal, wise energy that had surrounded my body. I have no doubts that this energy was another kind of an answer, an answer to my bedside prayer for help from my grandmothers and aunties.

When my eyes closed and I vocalized with each and every wave of pressure that pushed Metzli downward, I visualized a lava-like presence within me, waiting to erupt. Rather than feeling afraid of it or intimidated by it, I became one with it. I had the realization that what I was feeling was OF me. It was not outside of me doing anything to me, it was something being facilitated by my own body. No part of that scared me or made me want to leave this experience. I wanted to accept it as truth, and I wanted to assimilate this power into my being. In so doing, I knew I would birth my baby. I felt focused and determined, albeit no longer part of this three-dimensional world. I was evolving past the limits and boundaries I had lived within prior. I was doing the bravest thing imaginable. I was paving the way for Life. 

Because I became so loud at this point (Ryan even somehow allowed himself to shush me so that I didn’t wake our older daughters, but quickly realized he shouldn’t shush a birthing woman), Lorelei, my then-seven-year-old firstborn, woke up. Throughout my pregnancy I envisioned what it might be like to have my daughters by my side as I worked to bring their sister forth. The agreement was that no matter what time it was we would make sure they were there to see her when she was born. Because everything moved so quickly, there wasn’t really space to think about whether or not I wanted to wake them so they could see birth in all its glory, or if I wanted to just call them in once Metzli had officially arrived. This didn’t bother me because I trusted the unfolding, and I knew that their witnessing would be facilitated in whichever way was best for them, for me and for birth.

Seeing Lorelei’s face straight ahead of me in the doorway moments before I birthed her sister was so perfect. To see my oldest daughter and experience together something we had been through once before, though numbed and muted, was powerful. I am glad that this was the moment she woke up. Before her arrival in the doorway, I noticed that there was something deeply sexual about birth when it was taking place in the presence of my husband and me only. His witnessing of me in my truest and most vulnerable, yet powerful, form did something that I can’t quite explain. It felt like we suddenly were able to see each other so clearly. I knew I was safe in his presence, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me or our children, and that he was also going to give me the space I needed to do what I needed to do. If our children were there in the room, his attention would have been pulled. I’m glad that they were peacefully sleeping as those few hours passed and Metzli descended to the point of crowning.

Lorelei said that when she heard my screaming she thought I was fighting with Ryan, (which says a lot about how the pregnancy went! - no shame, surprise pregnancies can take a toll on any sane person), so she came to see what was going on, saw me in labor, and then went to climb in bed with Isla and wait for Metzli to be here. I remember her looking at me and asking, “Mom, are you in labor?” and I told her "yes" as a contraction began and I started howling once again. She said she was going to get her sister and I told her to wait, but she didn’t hear me. I didn’t want to have to explain anything to them or answer any questions. I could feel Metzli and I on the very edge of birth, and I needed to be present in my body, not outside of it. Lorelei told me later that in that moment she decided she would rather wait in the other room with her sister, not be in the room with me in that state. I think she picked up on my needs and followed suit. The vision of them lying together snuggled close as their dad held space for me to labor in the other room sends shivers through my body. It is the epitome of being a family to me, and the epitome of being a child - pure wonder, inner knowing and a deep connection to life.

After Lorelei had left the doorway and I completed the contraction that had started, I told Ryan, who had been grabbing towels and underpads at my one-worded requests, to text my parents: “Girls are up. Baby is coming.” They had agreed to come over and watch the older two daughters during the active labor part of birth. I dove into the ground once again and Ryan ran behind me. He said he could see Metzli’s head starting to crown, and I sure as fuck could feel the burn of this, so I moved into a bed-leaning lunge and felt between my legs. It was her warm, wet, soft, squishy little head that I felt with my own hands. I remember what this did to my breathing. It was as though I was choking on the holiness of that connection - I held my breath so as not to change a thing. Feeling the top of my baby’s head while the rest of her body was still safe within my own was pure fucking magic, and I knew that I could birth her in minutes. 

My vagina was so stretched and the burn of it was so intense that I was convinced I was tearing. I tried to feel the top of my yoni to see if it was in fact tearing. I couldn’t tell and there was no stopping what was happening and another contraction was coming on regardless, so I moved out of the lunge back to my hands and knees, and pushed with the strength of a hundred mothers to help Metzli’s head pass through. I didn’t push hard because she needed me to. I pushed her hard because that is how intense the moment felt; it was what was being called for. Ryan told me to keep pushing even though my contraction was over. He later said this is because Metzli’s face looked really squished and he was worried something was wrong. I tried to push as soon as he spoke these words but I was not contracting, so nothing happened. I then realized what he was probably seeing based on the many births I had seen, and was instantly reassured. Babies always look like they’re being choked by the birth canal when only their head has emerged. My intuition sensed perfection, and I allowed myself to pause and hold space with Metzli, for in just a matter of moments she would be in my arms. These were our last moments physically connected as one, and so I prepared my heart.

“You need to catch her,” I told Ryan. He readied his hands, and I stabilized my body on the ground.

The next contraction came and I pushed again. I felt her shoulders stretch me wide and then the intensity of it all released, some time around 11:47 p.m. Life force had moved through me to carry my daughter into her father’s hands. Ryan said there was a flood of amniotic fluid and blood as she flew out. We think that my waters released after she had engaged in the birth canal and therefore all of the fluid was held in like a dam until her body was completely released as well. Metzli contained all of that vibrant energy that moved her down and out of my body. I turned around, very conscious of the cord between my legs, and saw her wriggly, wet, bright pink body fully stretched out, and her wide open eyes staring up at the ceiling. I was in such awe of all that was happening that I couldn’t quite navigate the motions needed to get me up and over the cord so I could hold her to my chest. Within a few seconds, however, I did figure it out. Taking a lunge position again, I held her first away from me to tune into anything I might need to do to help her breathe. She looked pretty surprised and I could tell she was trying to breathe through her nose with slight difficulty (like, truly negligibly “slight” but noticeable to one looking closely). I wasn’t worried, but I sucked the fluid out of her nostrils just in case she needed me to. It tasted like the ocean. 

Read Part IV

Sneak peek of future Metzli, playing in the ocean.

The song Metzli was born to - “Akaal” by Ajeet and Trevor Hall.

The Free Birth of Metzli Jo ☽ Part II

Read Part I

THE BEGINNING

For about an hour, I noticed the contractions getting stronger and closer together, so I decided to time them for fun - just to get some info that I could incorporate into my planning for the evening ahead. They were about 2-3 minutes apart and were lasting around a minute every time. While this information didn’t necessarily mean anything about what the future held, it did mean that in that exact moment labor was really happening.

I recalled my other two labors as I allowed my body to sink further into the process without any more denial in the way. The first came along naturally and included about a day or so of on-and-off contracting while napping - similar to what was happening this time. The second was forced upon me, literally, by my doctor forcing his hand through my cervix to irritate my baby’s amniotic sac, again - literally. There would be no male “expert” assaulting my cervix this time. This time it was MY experience to have, and it was my baby’s and my body’s choice as to when the journey began. Together, we chose now.

After the girls were asleep, Ryan made me a salad at my request. I hadn’t had dinner and wanted some food in me to draw on when I needed energy and strength during labor. The salad was so good, and consisted of spinach, olives, pistachios, avocado, shredded mozzarella cheese, sauerkraut and balsamic dressing. After finishing my meal, I joined Ryan in bed. We held each other close and watched The Good Place. As soon as I felt his body next to mine, the contractions grew in intensity. I let him know how close together they were, and I began to close my eyes and breathe through them, letting my body move in a slight rhythm while squeezing Ryan’s hand ever tighter.

I had taken a 2.5 mg cannabis mint earlier in the night, and it was finally kicking in, perfectly aligned with the progression of my labor. I remember a bigger contraction beginning and I intentionally released all tension in my body. As I did this, waves of ecstasy took hold and I lay there next to my husband, smiling uncontrollably as I felt the best body high I’d ever experienced in my entire life. As my womb exerted its power and the sensations within grew tighter, the ecstasy deepened and I connected with my baby on an entirely new level. The thoughts that crossed my mind were a mix of, orgasmic birth is real!, is this what the rest of my labor will be like?, is this because of the cannabis?, please don’t let this end and labor is really fucking happening. This contraction had to have lasted close to five minutes long, and I didn’t want it to end, but I felt that I had to return to my conscious state and declare out loud to my husband that our child’s birth was imminent, so I did. After that moment the contractions became less orgasmic and more intense - lasting longer and coming along more often.

This is what cannabis looks like before it turns into a mint. Painting by Anita Toke.

I believe that after our episode of The Good Place ended, I went to the bathroom and experienced a pretty good contraction on the toilet, and it brought about a much bigger bloody show. The next thing I remember is telling Ryan that things were definitely happening and he should probably go to bed. I wanted him to rest while I got a few things in the space ready for what was to come.

I had to hold onto the walls as I walked from room to room. I held onto the wall by my bedroom door and swayed my hips from left to right and back again, and was brought back to memories of my mushroom journeys. Mushrooms are another plant ally of mine, and microdosing with them before I grew pregnant with Metzli had been healing my anxious tendencies. In fact, the night she was conceived was a night I had dosed. It is no surprise to me that the love I made that night resulted in our surprise baby. That was definitely baby-making sex, with major thanks to the magic of mushrooms.

Feeling the same rushes of physical pleasure in this very moment of working with my baby toward birth was serendipitous in a way. As often happens with mind-bending trips, I knew exactly what I wanted and needed so as to feel comfortable and safe in my space. I cleansed our home with sacred Palo Santo. I stood outside with my feet in the grass and stared up at the nearly-full waning moon. I said some words that I can’t remember, and I held my heavy, baby-filled belly in my hands for the last time. Meeting Metzli on the outside was something I had been awaiting for so long. This was our time to engage in the experience we had been gifted. It was our time to be born.

The more I walked around my home, the less ecstatic the sensations became, likely because I was focusing on things outside of my body in preparation for the work ahead. After I filled the diffuser with fresh water and drops of my favorite earthy essential oils (DoTerra's Balance (white fir-based) and Bergamot), a contraction came on so strong that I had to hold onto the co-sleeper, make sounds and move even more rhythmically from one side to the other. I laid down in bed on my side, put on the meditative playlist I had made in the months prior and asked Ryan to massage my lower back with some cannabis balm, as it had really begun to hurt. His incredible massage lasted three or four songs, and then began the pee cycle.

I suddenly had to pee after every few contractions, and when I sat down on the toilet to pee I’d have a massive contraction every time without fail. I began to get very vocal during this time, yelling out loudly at the peak and letting my body go as limp as possible afterward. But the breaks didn’t last very long. I remember having two or three contractions in the bed in some sort of child’s pose. I remember Ryan telling me how amazing I was, and the way he sounded as he spoke these truths made me feel powerful and capable. And so, I continued. 

Frustration began to creep in the more often I had to pee. I just wanted to stay where I was, but the pressure on my bladder was not ignorable. Eventually the contractions just kept coming as I sat on the toilet. I remember Ryan looking to see what was happening near the birth portal, and he said something was coming out but didn’t know what it was. My experience seeing births for so many years told me that it was likely my bag of waters bulging since it hadn’t yet released, and so I didn’t panic. I certainly knew it wasn’t her head.

At one moment, the power of my contractions had become so all-consuming that I grabbed onto Ryan’s shirt and told him I was panicking. I couldn’t catch my breath and the contractions were relentless, akin to an endless set of massive waves that weren’t allowing me to catch a full breath of air before diving under once again. This worried Ryan, which wasn’t my intention, but he was mindful enough to offer up the bathtub as a solution instead of joining me in the panic. I said yes with a sense of relief, and then crawled out of the bathroom to get away from the loud sound of the tub filling up.

I really did feel a bit panicked though; trapped, in a way. I was trying to dissociate from the physical sensations and make them manageable, rather than accept them for what they were and move in flow with them. I grabbed the corner of our mattress and managed to utter “help me” to no one in particular. Without specifically thinking about who I was talking to at the time, I know it was my matrilineal grandmothers and aunties. My great-great-grandmother attended home births with a friend during her time, and I feel that I needed her presence and wisdom to be able to handle the next stage of birth.

Having never continued past this point without an epidural in my previous births, I wasn’t sure what to expect. There was no epidural as an option, nor did I want it or have any desire to leave my home, but I was feeling the same overwhelming sensations of panic that I felt when laboring with Lorelei and Isla as the waves crashed down continuously with nary a break to be had, and I simply didn’t like it. But, having attended so many births myself, I knew this meant I was almost finished, and all I could do was work with my body to move forward as we were meant to. 

I found myself on hands and knees on my bedroom floor right in front of the altar I had made to honor Metzli and our birth experience. The altar consisted of a plate with a poem about mothers written in its center -  a gift that was given to me by my mother, who said it originally belonged to my great-grandmother. There was also a tiny silver spoon that we once found on the beach, and placed on it was a tiny piece of a geode because it looks like a tiny sugar cube - or a magical star just waiting to be consumed. Viewer's choice. A sweet yellow puff ball sculpture with earrings created by Lorelei stood proudly next to a Himalayan salt candle holder. A statue of a pregnant mother being wrapped up in a hug from her partner and more special, tiny things like shells, rose quartz and a selenite wand gifted to me by a friend, made the altar complete.

On the shelf below this altar were all of the balms and creams a baby could need (so, three things), as well as my most treasured pregnancy, birth, postpartum, magic and astrology books. The energy that exuded from this space unsurprisingly drew me in when my labor hit its peak and Metzli was soon to arrive. Having laid in bed meditating on these shelves for months prior, I was familiar with the effect it had on me, and I let it influence me as the contractions intensified further.

Read Part III