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.

On Postpartum In a Pandemic

My baby was just about five weeks old when the lockdowns began and the beaches were “closed.” Forced isolation was the exact opposite of what she and I needed at that time. We were in the midst of my postpartum expansion, getting to know one another on the outside of my womb while friends and family cared for our basic needs. Suddenly the support was withdrawn, and I sat at home nursing my brand new babe while her two older sisters kept busy with art projects and make believe. Some days it rained, some days it didn't. Some days we went on walks, some days we didn't. We waited for those first two weeks to pass, and then the lockdown extensions began.

At certain points in time I couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. Because of "public health" orders, I, along with countless other mothers, newborn infants and children, was abandoned and forgotten by humanity in an instant. One of my greatest fears was being alone with my three daughters after giving birth - unable to rest or heal as I needed to. I was afraid that I would grow fragile and no longer have the will to continue on in such lonely hardship. The world was crumbling at my feet, and I knew not how to overcome the rubble that seemingly blocked my path.

I drew on what I had learned during my years as a postpartum care provider, as well as the knowledge that was refined at my Innate Traditions training just a few months prior to giving birth. I continued to connect with my placenta medicine. I drank, bathed in and steamed with herbs. I held my baby close at all times and maintained constant contact with Mother Nature, the mother that would still hold me in her arms. I slept when I could and I ate well. My daughters and I nested underneath the lemon tree in our backyard most afternoons and watched the hawks gliding above us. We heard their screes and took them to heart. We let ourselves be wild and unscheduled. We held and kissed the baby and told her how much we loved her. She gave us smiles and hugged us back. She slept in our arms and kept her ears close to our hearts.

Those days in the yard, surrounded by thriving fruit trees and many pollinators, were profound. I watched my young daughters thrive in my care. They were endless springs of love and wonder, the three of them so enamored with one another. I quickly learned that, despite the lack of other adults in our presence, I actually was not alone at all. Though my former community had seemingly vanished, my immediate family - my life blood, my children, my muses, my guides - never once left my side. I felt deeply the love that my daughters had for me. I could feel their empathy in spite of their young ages, and we held space for one another as we grieved our many losses. What had once seemed an insurmountable challenge was now my greatest blessing. I was (and still am) with my daughters 24/7, and though their strong will often exhausts me by nightfall, my cup is never empty. They fill me with love, and I exude gratitude. My biggest offering to them is a safe and love-filled home, where grace and forgiveness abound, and where love sets us free.

There are days when my love for my children overwhelms me. On these days I sense what I only know to describe as a panic attack beginning, but rather than being filled with fear, I am filled with love. Tears pour from my eyes as I vocalize gratitude to that which guided these souls to and through my body. I express gratitude for the opportunity to birth them and to be a student of their journeys, including the journeys of theirs that are intertwined with mine. In these moments I hold them close and tell them that they are everything to me. I make sure they know that, in spite of the chaos characterizing our present time on Earth, our love and devotion to one another is steady; that together we are a giant pillar of truth and light for the world at large. They always laugh and hug me in return after I say these things, and they tell me that I am the best mom ever. They wipe my tears and make the baby giggle at their antics. The baby nurses and plays with my hair as I feel into the deep magic of our present moment together. The way we lock eyes is proof that we are one.

In moments when I feel overburdened by all that is required to raise three children in the modern, grieving world, I hold my baby to my chest and make my way to our bed. I lie with her while she nurses and falls asleep. Allowing my eyes to close, I rest my body as my mind takes me to another time entirely. I go back to the night where I gave birth to her on my bedroom floor. I remember my husband handing her to me. I remember looking into her eyes. I remember the way she tasted like the ocean when I gently sucked the fluid from her nose. I remember her latch, as strong and confident as her emergence into this earthly realm. The life force that carried her body from my womb and through my sacred portal brought with it a new mother, and in those first few weeks with her I became the woman I had always sensed at my center. I was strong, capable and powerful. Finally, I was free.

When I remember my baby's freebirth I remember what I have done in my past, and what I can do in my present and future. I remember that in life's most primal human moments, I am me. That this "me" is always here. I can always tap into the strength that I had the night she was born. Because of her birth, I have evolved, and it couldn't have happened a moment sooner. Her timing transcends the concept of "perfection."

Babies born during this time of duress know why they are here. They are creating mothers and families that the earth so desperately needs. They are sustaining mothers and families by gifting us with rushes of oxytocin, strong intuitions and an urge to thrive and orient to that which sustains life. These babies are gifts. They are tiny bodies filled with love and a commitment to thriving life. They are souls perfectly suited to all that is required for this shifting of paradigms. My baby shows me this in the way she completes me and our family. Connecting with her allows me to feel this as truth. Her spirit has kept our family grounded, preventing us from spiraling into the deep abyss of fear that has been presented to us by the powers that were. She reminds us of the wonders of living and learning. She inspires us to bravely continue forward into uncharted territory. I couldn't imagine going through such a wild time without her and her sisters by my side, for she is me, they are me, they are each other, and we are one. I gave my three daughters life, and they continue to give me life in return.

May all the babies and mothers raising their young during these times be seen and heard, for while we are strong, we are not meant to be strong without being witnessed. We are wading through what feels like shark-infested waters with our children on our backs. We were forgotten and dismissed by society a long time ago, but in 2020 and beyond we were quite literally invisible to the world as we raised our children behind closed doors. True public health centers mothers; it does not force them to isolate under the instruction of false prophets. Our babies are blessings, and we will not settle for a world that does not honor their lives, or all LIFE in its entirety. Our children are the future and we are their protectors. Just as we gestated and gave birth to them, we shall gestate and give birth to the new Earth, whether the world is paying attention or not.

Rest assured, we are strong enough. Rest assured, we are wise enough. Rest assured, we are ready.

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Be The Light

These rainbows shower the very place where Metzli was born in my bedroom, on the floor right in front of her birth altar. They also dance upon the wall that holds a framed photo above the altar. The photo is of her two sisters a few years ago walking along a pathway at a hotspring we loved that was later burnt and destroyed in the Thomas Fire. Atop the frame is a selenite wand, Metzli's newborn footprint and an affirmation card that reads, "I Am The Light." I am. And so are you.

I see people saying they don't know what to do in these times. That they feel helpless and drained, especially after conversations with people they disagree with. To them and all people who want to shift the energy from fear and stress into love and gratitude but don't know where to start, I say: go help new mothers. You cannot go wrong when you are helping new mothers. It is an "essential" job, as they say, and it is the responsibility of each and every one of us to make sure that new mothers and their infants are taken care of. 

You can deliver homemade healthy food to a new mother. Ask her how she's feeling and if there's anything she needs to talk about, and then listen with an open heart and mind. Buy her groceries and drop them off. If she wants people in her home, go be in her home with her. Fold her laundry. Hold her baby while she takes a long bath. Make her an herbal tea and share a conversation in the sun. Make sure she has a good water filter and, if she doesn't, buy her one. Join her for a walk by the ocean. Lead her through a meditation. Give her a massage. Hold space for her to grieve - when caring for a newborn 24/7 there is little time at all to process all that is changing and disappearing before our eyes.

We need to hear each other crying. We need our crying to be heard.

We need to see each other's smiles. We need our smiles to be seen.

We need to witness each other's rites of passage and transformations. We need our rites of passage and transformations to be witnessed.

There is no existence in which these needs no longer are needed. They are always needed. It is time to fulfill these needs once more and continue living our beloved lives.

Please show the mothers, especially those caring for infants, young children and teens, some love. They are forgotten and not considered at this time, and they desperately need to be seen and held by the collective. Some have given up entire careers that they invested tens of thousands of dollars into because their children must stay home from school. Some can't afford to feed their children. Some are beaten. Some have had their homes blown to pieces. Some are suicidal. Some have already taken their own lives. 

Please, show the mothers real, human love.

And also, please hear this. I tried the soapbox thing and the screaming from rooftops thing. It didn't really work to affect real change. It only serves to feed the same energy monster - the one filled with righteous rage. It's just as they say, which wolf do you choose to feed? Because the one you choose, is the one that lives.

I choose the one filled with light. I am the light. The light feels amazing, and I plan to live in it always and to share it with all who are ready and willing to see for themselves what is life, and what is death.

Mothers and infants are life. Fear and isolation are death. Let us serve LIFE.

Revolutionary Motherhood

My mother and me at my sister's wedding reception.

I think the revolution that is to come will be led by mothers. Mothers of all shapes, sizes, colors and age. Mothers of all types of children, with all types of capabilities. Mothers as a whole.

It will be led by mothers because mothers don’t do anything that isn’t essential, and a revolution is absolutely essential. They make decisions based on the well being of their children before anyone else. They can sense threat and they can protect fearlessly. With a vigilance like no other, mothers always succeed at that which needs to be accomplished because the livelihood of their children depends on it. Mothers know best, and mothers do best. No matter what the circumstances are, they always do their best.

It will be led by mothers because mothers have endured pain. They have endured abuse and disrespect for centuries. They have always come last and yet always continue to put others first. They are an imperative part of nature and its cycles, and are treated as such - but this is not a good thing. Like nature, mothers are treated as property. They are torn down, mistreated and destroyed simply because they are women, women whose bodies and hobbies have changed since bearing children. Women who are sexualized while simultaneously being very undervalued in their personal lives, in their maternity wards* and in their workplaces. It is truly disastrous, for mothers and for society as a whole, that this is the way we treat our mothers.

In contrast, mothers who are revered - who are treated like queens, who are supported by their communities and upheld by the laws, who have love made to them and exude love within them - these are the mothers whose children are happy and healthy; primarily because of the amount of maternal love that is always bestowed upon them, and secondly because of their mothers’ access to the services she needs so as to care for them.

It is time to value the mother, and mothers know this. They will not stand for the current state of our world because their daughters need them to clear the path, and their sons need to know how to treat the mothers of their own children. They will do it because it is what their children need them to do, and the children come first. Please note that it is so fucking good for society that children are first in the eyes of mothers, for society’s well being** depends on it.

The future of everyone is reliant upon how children are raised, how well they develop and how much they thrive in their environments. Thus, the mothers themselves will lead the revolution because the children need them to in order to survive. A key component of the mothers’ success is that you will help them. You will help the mothers to win the revolution because you need the children. You need the children because without the children, there is no future. Without a future to strive for, what’s life? Because, eventually, the future will come and it will be the present. If that future never comes, what happens to the present it was supposed to become?

So, yes, mothers will lead the revolution. And it will be celebrated for centuries more. Until then we will all continue to fight for the rights of mothers, especially in the worlds of healthcare and business. We will work to empower them and care for them when they are in need. We will not judge them, we will assist them. We will not outcast them, we will enable them. All of them.

I help mothers by guiding them through birth and early motherhood as a doula. I do this because I believe that world peace starts with creating positive pregnancy, birth and postpartum experiences for mother and child. How do you help mothers? Together we will help them to attain all that is required to truly change the world.

* Further reading on birth trauma here.
** I do not personally practice any religion, but I am spiritually inclined and admire other spiritual thinkers. What the Pope says here about mothers is truly beautiful.