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.

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