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3-2-10- Part 4 – Dignity and Pain
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
Given that since we’ve moved to a small cabin in the woods, I haven’t had a bath to enjoy, this laboring in the tub was an experience I had actually been looking forward to. The hospital doesn’t allow you to push in
the tub for liability silliness, but you can labor for as long as you want.
Proserpine began filling it up and in a few moments (it felt like seconds since each contraction sort of took me outside of time) I stepped in.
Linda asked what kind of lighting I wanted as she scrolled through pink, green, blue.
“Blue,” I said. The periwinkle color transformed the water into something ephemeral, which made me feel like I was floating in a pure, clean ocean.
I began a two hour process of laboring in the tub which I now know was transition, my body moving from 5 to 10 cm, the most painful part of labor where your breaks between contractions shrink down to fractions of a minute and your contractions grow in intensity and length.
I rocked my body back and forth and prayed silently. I heard Dale whisper encouragements, phrases and ideas that I will always remember,
“You are working as Mary the mother of Jesus worked to birth her baby.”
And
“This is how the Son of God came into the world,”
And
“You look so relaxed, Jonalyn, you’re making this look easy,” to which I responded between contractions with a wry, weak grin.
And
“You’re dancing with the pain.” This was a phrase I repeated over and over to myself, it gave me more freedom and dignity.
Of all the things I treasured about that day, my husband’s comfort and nearness will always live vibrantly in my memory. There was no shame in his eyes, no disgust or distaste. He was for me in a way no man has ever been for me. I’ve never felt large or unlovely to him. And in labor, he continued to find me beautiful.
I treasured his being “FOR” me.
He and Linda held my hands through every contraction as I moved and shifted my weight. It felt like those gas cramps were getting stronger and stronger. I pushed my breath into them and asked God for a picture.
God gave me a vivid picture, a lush, green hill, all soft and peaceful. Sitting on the side of the hill was a little white lamb. The image of serenity would be a vision I revisited again and again as the pain climbed. As I entered the tightening vise, I would ask, “God, give me that green hill.”
I found this picture that looked remarkably like what was in my mind.
Something I want to note here is that I did not scream; I never yelled out; I never shouted.
I never really felt the need to yell. This was NOT because the labor was a piece of cake. It hurt, but I knew how to welcome my pain. My labor was shorter than most first time mothers, but it was still intense and gave me little time to rest.
I remember whimpering between two particularly hard contractions, “Where’s my rest? What’s happened to the resting times between?”
Linda responded, “You’re getting closer, your body is working to move your baby down. Let it do its work. You’re breathing beautifully, Jonalyn.”
The one word I kept hearing (and believing) was that what I was doing was beautiful, beautiful to Linda, beautiful to Dale, beautiful to my baby, beautiful to God.
I want to broadcast this possibility of not yelling to those who joke that labor is a time of losing control or screaming. People, mostly men, would make comments before we had our baby. They’d say things like, “When you’re in the hospital screaming, you won’t be thinking about anything else.” Or “Can you imagine meeting your labor doctor at the grocery store, later. How embarrassing!”
But I didn’t find labor to be embarrassing or a time of losing control. Labor was intense, much more like the hard work of moving a piano across a room, than slamming my thumb into a door (though that sensation would come later).
Labor doesn’t have to be a time of screaming. It can be a beautifully courageous time where you own the opportunity to work with your body and move your baby down, down, down into the world and light and air.
In spite of doomsday sentiments that labor is a time when you lose all your dignity, I found it more like a time when I showed myself and others how strong I was. Labor can be a time where you choose to step with dignity into pain. And I was floored by how much endurance my frame could stand. In the surreal world where you dance with pain, I felt both in and out of my body. I felt like I was watching something 
similar to the Olympics (fitting as we just had watched the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics the week prior). It was grueling and amazing and delightful all at the same time.
Jules Adolphe Breton’s painting, The Song of the Lark, especially the expression in the eyes of the laborer, harnesses the feeling I’m trying to communicate. She’s struck silent with the beauty (and fatigue in her body?) she feels. I felt that way as I witnessed my body in labor.
After it was all over, Dale dubbed me his Olympian gold medalist. Read his story of Finn’s birth at his blog.
If other mothers are reading this, I would be interested to know your thoughts about pain, labor and dignity.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
April 4th, 2010 at 12:18 pm
Jonalyn, I love reading your birth story…it only makes me more excited to experience bringing a child into the world again in about another month. I never felt that my pain was unmanageable with the coaching of Gary through EVERY contraction during my labor which lasted 28 hours from start to finish. Relaxing to the sound of your husband’s supportive voice is SO crucial to a natural birth and it is quite empowering to have a child in this manner. I know more women could also do it if they took classes like the Bradley Method (bradleybirth.com) and got more educated that childbirth is nothing to be ashamed of, requires no screaming or yelling, and can be accomplished in a dignified manner like you say.
April 4th, 2010 at 2:33 pm
Jonalyn, I so agree with you. Labor was difficult and challenging, but giving birth was the greatest rush ever. I felt as though I could accomplish ANYTHING when I had done that. I felt like Superwoman to my husband; he was in awe of what I did. I would not exchange those memories of aware, drug-free labor for anything in the world.
April 4th, 2010 at 3:30 pm
Yes I agree- screaming actually makes you more tense in labor- Glad things went so well for you. I just wrote an article for a local magazine that has some similar views here
http://www.northstateparent.com/component/content/article/37-articles/450-doulas-offer-compassionate-continuous-support-during-pregnancy-birth-and-postpartum.html
I think many women who choose upfront to have pain meds are missing out on a hugely powerful and empowering experiance. I am thankful for modern mediine when there are complications, but for a normal birth, natural is best:)
April 4th, 2010 at 3:44 pm
I am wondering why screaming has to be in contrast to a “beautifully courageous” labor. Can someone express with their voice and still have that experience. Does screaming automatically mean you are no longer in control? Is it less dignified?
Lots of people make noise in labor, me included. I would not think that my 31 1/2 hours of noise making with my first was not dignified because I used my voice when I needed to or any less courageous than when I birthed my second and didn’t make any noise.
April 4th, 2010 at 4:49 pm
I do agree with your main points. (Eric thinks I need to temper my comment a little.) Labor does not have to be an experience that is thought of as torturous. My first comment is trying to understand and seek clarification when you contrast screaming with courage and dignity.
April 4th, 2010 at 5:02 pm
I love how you made labor an act of worship before God….oh, Jonalyn, your faith inspires me. Thanks for this wonderful post and happy Easter!
April 4th, 2010 at 5:26 pm
Oh Jonalyn this is a stunning profile of the birthing process. I felt very much the same about the whole thing. I didn’t speak a word during my labor. Just breathing…getting out of the way so my body could do what God had designed it to do… what women have been doing for thousands of years. I felt like a super hero at the end of it all. No drugs, no outbursts, no screaming. I have the most incredible pictures my mother took from behind the doctor when I was pushing the baby out. It’s like a visual documentation of a miracle happening in slow motion right before you very eyes. They are “messy” and “adult content” but looking back on the experience they are something I would publish in a book titled… Glorious!
April 4th, 2010 at 6:40 pm
I like this Jonalyn! There is great dignity in the pain of labor. I remember with Evelyn (my second) That the nurses were laughing at me because they had never had someone be so pleasant and thank them while in labor! I will admit that at the end things happened very quickly and I did lose that focus and asked my sister-in-law (she is a nurse and was my extra labor coach) quite loudly and urgently to get the doctor because I was sure it was time to push!!!! ( I was quite right to!!) Isn’t it the most incredible feeling in the world when the hard part is over and you feel such peace, and you think, “wow, I just did that!!!” Your birthing story was very sweet, honest, and beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
April 4th, 2010 at 7:54 pm
Thanks so much for sharing your story..
both of my labors were more about welcoming pain as something constructive– and accepting my responses to them– the first labor was a time of intense connection to my husband– who supported me during the induction, labor and birth– and maintaining an environment that was comforting to me despite toting an IV poll around with pitocin
I hadn’t really considered felt dignified during labor– i felt a loss of control more than anything else– almost like I was on a roller coaster along for the ride– and I could choose to accept the ride or fight it–
the second labor began naturally and was more quiet and inward and less noisy.. we were at home– so I felt very supported by the people there– and very safe–so that contributed to my actions– although I did feel during both labors there was a definite time that I had to “let go” of control– and go very deep into the pain– usually right before I started pushing– so for me labor has been more about loss of control– and acceptance..
April 5th, 2010 at 7:25 pm
I have enjoyed reading your birth story and look forward to the conclusions as you post.
Brock and I started our family 3 years ago (this week!) as we welcomed our sweet Emma Kate into the world. I prepared for birthing Emma Kate by reading books, attending Bradley birthing classes, watching videos of other women birth (making note of how they physically worked with their bodies, the positions, the noises, the movements, etc.). I knew I wanted to labor and deliver without any modern day interventions. . . I too wanted to know what it was like for a woman to give birth and experience the whole process for what God had cursed it to be (sounds aweful). I knew what my body was capable of after disciplining it and completing a marathon, pushing myself to what I felt was the most rigorous event I had ever put my body through. Because I knew the mental and physical discipline of crossing the finish line, I chose to mentally equate labor to the same imagery.
This doesn’t sound so serene does it! I think next time I will try the picture of a meadow filled with flowers or something!
It was helpful to stay mentally strong and to trust my body that I could do it. Running a race and passing each mile marker, I knew I was that much closer to the finish line. Dealing with the pain and working with my body came much more natural than I thought it would. Pulling the images of other women birthing and how they positioned themselves in dealing with the pain was very helpful to me. I was afraid that I would be forced by hospital standards to be in only 1 position (on my back) or that I would be held captive to my assigned room. Thankfully I had an incredible labor and delivery nurse that was agreeable to what I had asked. I didn’t want the full belly monitors and she agreed to only 20 mins every hour, I was free to walk around my room and in the hallways, etc. The most comfort was standing and holding onto my husband. I felt “carried” and that he was in this with me. Unlike running a marathon, there’s no trial runs, no working yourself up to the full race. In my laboring room was a clock that hung right above my bed. I wish I could have taken that clock and thrown it out the door! All that clock did for me was tax me mentally. . . how much longer. . .its been 12 hours, 13 hours, 14 hours. . .well, 18 hours later, I was “stuck” at 8 cm and the doctor advised me to accept some “help”. Help came in the form of Pitocine. I started to cry. . . I felt like a failure, I felt like I had ran this race and with the finish line in sight, I had to be carried.
Looking back I knew this was a grace of God’s. Women died in childbirth all the time. I may have been one of those women if I lived back in the “olden days”. I had my cheerleaders beside me, mainly my husband affirming me that I had handled it so beautifully. Like you, I never felt the need to scream. ..it wasn’t that kind of pain. The occasion didn’t merit itself to screaming. Every contraction was a step closer to seeing my babies face.
Pitocine gave me what I needed to allow my body to push.
Another imagery for me that became so real and seen in a whole new light was how Scripture equates the imagery of Christ’s Second Coming to birth pangs. I really felt the sense of anticipation and excpectancy that Christ must be communicating to us as he encourages the church to Look, Watch and Be Ready for His return. I knew the signs that my body was communicating as Emmas birth day approached but I didn’t know when labor would start, I didn’t know what would be asked of me in the process, was I ready? Labor came on immediately and in full force. There was no going back, there was no more time to prepare. The culmination of 9 ½ months of preparing, anticipating, waiting. . .now is all I had to do was walk through the doors of meeting my baby.
This comment is much longer than I had meant to write! I’ll end with this! Looking forward to reading more!
Heidi
April 5th, 2010 at 7:31 pm
I just read Catherines comment about labor being a loss of control and acceptance I couldn’t have said it better! that was exactly what I had discovered and learned in my own birthing experience. I didnt’ comment about it but would love to hear more if Catherine or Jonalyn end up sharing!
Heidi
April 5th, 2010 at 9:47 pm
I’m loving hearing all the details of your birth story! Can’t wait to hear the rest of it! I birthed my second child naturally, and it was a super short and intense labor, too. (3 hours start to finish) I share similar feelings about maintaining control and being proud of the way I handled the pain. (esp. since in general I tend to not do well with pain!)
I did have a different experience, however, when it comes to the “yelling and screaming.” I was LOUD. Granted, most of this was in my own bathroom (my son came out 20 minutes after arriving at the birth center) and that’s one reason I was so glad I wasn’t at a hospital, I don’t know if I’d feel enough freedom to vocalize with strangers around. But it was a very different experience than uncontrollably screaming from pain… describing it as vocalizing feels more accurate… as the contractions came (and they were like you said, hardly any break between them, practically one long contraction) my voice rose and fell with the pain, mostly I was yelling one LOUD “ahhh!!” or “ohh!!” sound. I really thought I would be very quiet in labor, I wasn’t expecting to be loud or planning on it in any way, but it was SOO helpful! It felt as though I was able to release the energy from my body through my voice, and once I got into a rhythm of vocalizing, it helped me feel more in control of the situation and gave me something else to think about than the pain. Actually, it seems like from the people I’ve talked to and what my doula said, some women in labor need to focus inward, like you with your picture, and concentrate on something very specific outside of their body in order to help control the pain. For me, it was the exact opposite. I couldn’t focus on anything, there was no way I could’ve even tried to stare at an image or focus on anything outside of my body. I was so IN my body, experiencing every little feeling, and vocalizing was a big piece of me tuning-in to the contractions. It was painful, but I’ve never been so brave and welcoming of pain, and since then it has really changed the way I view myself and my strength. Anyway, sorry this is so long, I love labor stories and LOVED my labor and birth. But I did just want to present another perspective of how you can be quite loud with your voice yet in a controlled kind of way (my husband said that although I was super expressive of my pain he never thought I was losing control). Can’t wait to hear the rest of your story, hope you’re enjoying the first few weeks of motherhood!
April 6th, 2010 at 2:20 pm
Julie – I’m thankful you’re continuing to help women participate more fully in labor. The Bradley method has so much to offer both partners! While Dale did not coach me as actively as it sounds like Gary did, I know having him so present and physically near helped me tremendously
Mari and Ruth – I know what you mean about being a super hero. I felt like I could give ElastiGirl a run for her money
Mari – It’s amazing what our bodies can do, isn’t it?! Those pictures sounds wonderful. I know wish I had someone taking similar shots, but didn’t think of it at the time.
Amy – thank you for reminding me how even labor is worship.
Lorene – great article of the value of a doula! Thanks for sharing it. I agree with you on screaming being a means to losing focus.
Randi – a very good point. Perhaps I should (as a good philosopher
) define my terms. I think making noise in labor is a GREAT idea, for instance moaning, toning, even crying or yelling… all of which can be a wonder- ful expression of moving the pain beyond your body. When I write screaming I meant a noise that is a result of losing control as in “a loud, sharp, piercing cry” one that I associate with noises made in fear or despair, like when you’re startled as a young child. I can see how this was confusing however as you can (and women often do) utter loud, sharp cries in labor and they are still very courageous.
I don’t want to pit noises, yelling or otherwise as enemies of courage in labor.
My main concern was that most men I spoke with prior to birth made it sound like screaming uncontrollably or even embarrassment were unavoidable consequences of labor. I disagree with that now.
Thanks for clarifying. I’m glad you brought up the importance for many women of making many (loud) noises!
Danielle – thanks for your story and encouragement!
Catherine – a good picture on stepping into a roller coaster and accepting. I resonate with that as well as letting go. If you had a 3rd would you have them at home or hospital?
A quote that you and Ruth might enjoy is sitting in my bedroom (and has sustained me as I carried and now mother Finn) “for to create is precisely not to control.”
April 6th, 2010 at 6:30 pm
Thanks for clarifying, Jonalyn. I wholeheartedly agree.
May 18th, 2010 at 10:54 am
Reading this post reminds me that I am not alone! I birthed both of my children (from using the Bradley Method) naturally. I was 21 years old with my first, and I was in a stage of life where I was still subconsciously searching for healing in my confidence and ownership of my identity as a woman. I went through labor, making choices. I made the choice before each contraction to risk the pain again, to find the strength to let the pain control my body, to hope for the joy of meeting my son, and to persevere through the multitude of self-doubts in my head. When he was finally lifted up onto my chest, I felt a confidence in myself as a female that healed a myriad of the warped messages about sexuality that I was wading through. So many of the female authors I enjoy describe a moment of really finding and owning their voice. My labor and delivery made me actually believe God’s voice in my life–that he had created me as beautiful and strong and courageous and tender.
May 20th, 2010 at 7:10 pm
Thanks, Randi!
Meredith – I love what you wrote, particularly how you “risked the pain”. An apt work picture. Very encouraging to me to hear of another woman who learned the beauty, vulnerability and strength in the gift of her female body.
May 24th, 2010 at 10:30 am
Emily – I don’t know how I missed your great comment.
I love what you shared, great example of how being noisy is good in labor. I think you’re totally right, loud but controlled, vocalizing as a means to tune in to your body.
THREE HOURS! Holy cow…
Thanks for writing in your experience. It helps me and I’m sure many others who read here to understand the kaleidoscope of labor not just between women, but between births.
May 24th, 2010 at 10:37 am
Heidi – I wish the picture of that serene little meadow was something I could claim credit for… honestly, though, it just appeared and for too brief moments, too. I remember wanting to stay there when pain would sometimes overshadow me. Then it took all I had to breathe.
I think your running (a marathon! kudos, girl!) gave you such an excellent picture of what you could do, what pacing looked like.
Your image of running and then being carried across the finish line sounds like a beautiful moment of community for you to share interdependence with your husband… he was leaning on you to birth.. you leaning on him to finish.
I love it.
I like what you said about the unknowns of birth pangs, especially for 1st time laboring mothers… there’s lots of meat to chew on there. I felt so much anticipation as to what MY labor experience would be like, much like I wonder what I will do when Jesus is standing in flesh before me.
Thank you for sharing!!