I FEEL like crying when I think about my daughter's first birthday. Already so much has happened in her little life. I can hardly believe a year has passed. Having Kobra in my life is one of the most magical gifts I have ever received. Even her arrival story is quite a spectacular one…
We were living in Piracanga, an eco village in Bahia, Brazil. The air was heavy with expectancy. There were three ladies heavily pregnant, two of whom were due any day, like me. The community was also preparing for an Avatar course. Many outsiders had come to participate and just as many community members were planning on attending.
Adding to the weight of the already soupy environment was the slight discrepancy over who would be permitted to attend my birth. Allow me to digress to two months prior to Kobra's arrival for a moment to fill in some of the background details.
While we were in Piracanga there was one senior midwife who served the community. I met her briefly, shortly after our arrival to Piracanga. It was during that one encounter with her that the seed of doubt was planted in me. Could I trust this woman to be present at my birth in the way I needed her to be?
Then stories of other births that had taken place in Piracanga began to pour in - birth stories that I knew I didn't want for myself or my baby. I knew exactly what I needed in the persons attending my birth. Also, on a very deep level, I intuited (I mean I literally felt with every parcel of my being) how this birth would unfold.
Unfortunately, I don't think it is very common knowledge that those who surround a birthing woman have an enormous impact on how she will birth. So to be absolutely sure that I would not be adversely affected during my process I had to know that my midwife would be fully on board with my wishes.
There was also the minor detail of whether she would actually be in Piracanga. She was a highly experienced and sought-after midwife who travelled almost continuously. So would she really be there in the moment of need?
These weren't the thoughts I wanted swirling away in my head weeks before I was due to give birth. Faced with these impossible questions, I turned to one of my dearest friends in the UK, a natural birth and mothering advocate. She promptly posted me her book Birthkeepers. It couldn't have arrived at a better time. I devoured the book in 48 hours and felt ultra-confident with my birthing position - to go it alone without a midwife.
I am sure that must sound ludicrous, possibly irresponsible to some, but this is my story related to my body and baby. I knew my baby and body better than anyone. I also know what a woman's body is capable of given the right circumstances (I had this experience with Zenchai's birth, too).
I felt relieved that a decision had been made. I could just get on with the late days of pregnancy. Well, so I thought.
Of course word spread, as it does in small communities, about my 'lawless' decision. This for very obvious reasons raised the hairs on many peoples' backs. I held my ground firmly. The bones in my body told me how my birth would be (these are the same bones that told me when I first met Claude we would make children together). I was not afraid.
I reluctantly agreed to meet with the midwife once more (interpreter on hand as her English was limited and my Portuguese abysmal). The encounter was rather peculiar. She got out her laptop and showed us pictures and videos of births she had attended. I guess she was trying to show us examples of her work. But most of the images I found unsettling. She was the prominent focus of every photo, gloved hands reaching in and taking babies from beneath their mothers, like a heroine. The video I could hardly watch. I was feeling even more strongly that she was not the right match for me.
Then she packed her computer away and got up to leave like we had signed the agreement she would attend the birth. It was an awkward moment, but I called her back. It was not the kind of birth I wanted (by the way, I think I should mention for those that don't know me very well, that I am not anti-midwife, but I had very strict criteria that needed to be met).
After she sat back down, I did a little air-clearing. I expressed to her precisely what I wanted in a midwife. If she was willing to abide then we had a deal. But, again deep down, I wasn't sure I would need her. I knew this baby was going to come fast. Claude and I, often in semi-jest, talked about how there would be no time to get her when I went into labour and I would have my freebirth as I truly wished.
Once again with things ironed out, I relaxed into the idea of enjoying my last few weeks of carrying a baby in my womb, after all this could be the last time. Just as the dust nearly settled, I came down with two staph infections on my foot.
They started out as insect bites. I must have gone crazy scratching them, causing them to become infected. It all happened very quickly. I began properly cleaning the wounds as were the resident doctor's orders. But a week had gone by and they were getting worse, in particular the one above my ankle. It had turned into a gaping wound at least the size of an American quarter.
I was adamant that I didn't want to take antibiotics, especially so late in my pregnancy. This is when a medicine lady appeared. I began undergoing treatments with her. But it was by far the most excruciating thing I have ever felt. Each day for sometimes hours she pulled away the diseased flesh from my skin with her bare fingers. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I would wonder why all this was happening and what my poor baby must be feeling.
Everything had gone very bleak. I was at my lowest point. Would this infection heal so I could focus on giving birth?
I was laid-up almost continually, trying to recover and not feel the agonising pain of my wounds. Self-reproach was another common emotion. I desperately wanted to be playing and interacting with Zenchai before our lives changed forever, not some housebound invalid.
I was now days away from my due date. Something had to give. After very careful consideration, I decided to use very small amounts of antibiotic cream on my wounds. I was still receiving daily cleanings from our resident doctor and my midwife. Both were pleased with the progress we had started to make by using the cream. The wounds were getting smaller and less painful. As a reward for progress made, I was allowed a swim in the river (I had been dying to swim in the beautiful waters, to float and be without gravity, something I hadn't enjoyed for at least three weeks). Zenchai and I zipped merrily down to the river at low tide, our favourite time, when the water was warm and red in colour. We played and splashed. I felt like a new woman.
Returning to the beginning of the story, the air in Piracanga was feeling hot, salty and pregnant with expectation. It was three days until the full moon. The midwife had predicted that one of us with buns in the oven would be ready to pop with magnetism of the full moon upon us.
It was a normal day. I had been feeling emotional, so decided to take a nap in the hammock. The doctor came to check and clean my wounds as usual. He asked how I was and when I tried to explain I felt all fuzzy in my head. We both put it down to my body trying to fight the infection and the heat of the day. Later a friend came by to offer me a massage. Feeling blue, the timing was right. She lovingly rubbed my shoulders, head and back and ended it by giving me deeksha. After such a treat, I felt so much better.
That evening we were going to another friend's for a bonfire party. Before we went, Claude, Zenchai and I had a quick meal up on one of the top sun decks, enjoying a splendid sunset. At dusk we made our way to the fire. Everyone was there. It was buzzing (by Piracanga standards). I saw the midwife there. She was drinking a caiporienha (typical Brazialian alcoholic beverage). I whispered in a joking way that I hoped I wasn't the one going into labour that night!
Popcorn was being served and as I took a handful of it I thought "I am not sure I want to eat this. I really love popcorn, but if I go into labour I will be sure to throw this up and go off it for quite sometime." I indulged anyway. It was only a small chance that I would go into labour that night, right?
It was getting late and we needed to get Zenchai to sleep, so we began our walk along the moonlit paths back to our house. We bumped into a couple of visitors who were lost and trying to find their way back to their lodgings. As we showed them the way, the woman asked when I was due. I casually replied "Oh, any time now."
We all crawled into bed and retired for the night. It didn't feel like I was in bed long when I woke-up with that all-too-familiar late pregnancy sensation that my bladder required urgent attention. As I trundled over Zenchai, I wasn't sure if I would make it to my bucket (strategically placed near our bed so I wouldn't have to climb my way down the stairs each night to wee amongst any potential creepy crawlies).
Immediately after I got out of bed I knew things were happening. I got my sleepy head straight and woke Claude from his slumber. He needed to begin preparing my birthing space ASAP. I walked out to our balcony overlooking our garden glowing under the moon's light. I bent over the railing and had a very strong contraction. My rushes were coming thick and fast. I decided to reach down and feel my bits. The sensation was unreal. It was like I had found the baby eject button. If I didn't move my hand back to the railing then this baby was for sure going to shoot straight out of me right there and then.
I mumbled to Claude that I was going to make my way to the bathroom. I wanted to evacuate before this baby really came. I made it to the landing just in time for another powerful surge. I caught my breath and made it to the bathroom. By this point I was very vocal. Later we were told most of the village could hear my primal sounds.
I sat on the toilet. Oh, the relief to be sat there. I was having a continuous flow of rushes. Claude very meekly tried to persuade me to come off the toilet as we had an agreement that under no circumstances was I to birth on the toilet again (Zenchai was born on the toilet and I believed I had torn in that labour due to the circulation not flowing properly). I am not sure if I answered him. But he promptly began bringing the birthing mats and paraphernalia from upstairs to the bathroom floor.
Claude then gently aided me to the floor. I got on my knees and gripped the sink counter for dear life. This baby was coming and fast. My body was bearing down and at the same time the skies opened and began bearing down sheets of rain. I reached down once more to feel myself and there was the head. It felt like nothing I have ever touched. It was wet and squidgy. My thinking brain was long gone. I began to semi-panic. Calling out "what is this I am feeling?" I felt like I had been shouting for help for hours. I just couldn't connect the dots that it was my baby's head.
I felt as if I was alone in the bathroom with only faint candle light even though Claude was actually right behind me. I peered out the door of the bathroom and saw a shadow. It was not Claude's. I knew we were alone in the house. I could feel my eyes getting small. I felt like a leopard protecting her den and began shouting "Who is that? Who is here?" Claude appeared before me and told me that the midwife had gotten word that I was in labour and that she was there. (An apprentice midwife had been camping on the neighbour's land and heard my noises. She made a split-second decision to get the midwife to me in top speed.)
I relaxed and put away my claws. My focus was once more back to this baby emerging from me. Prior to labour I told Claude that I wanted to be the one to receive our baby, the first one to touch him/her, as he was the one who caught Zenchai.
But this baby was on rocket fuel. I could not let go of the counter. I needed help and pretty damn quick! Claude motioned for the midwife to come in. And within seconds of her crouching below me our baby had entered the world.
She handed our slippery baby to me. I leaned on my heels and held her close. I was in shock. Everything had happened so rapidly. It felt like an eternity before I properly looked to see if we had a girl or boy. Just as I had dreamed, we had had a healthy, plump girl. I quickly asked the assistant midwife what the time was. She checked her watch. It was 11.30pm. I noted she was born on the 15th and not the 16th.
Within 10 minutes of her arrival my afterbirth came just as speedily. And as I looked down at my baby's placenta, I was half-surprised to find it wasn't another baby. Part of me had thought that maybe there were two in my womb. The midwife took a tiny piece of the placenta and offered it to me to eat. I refused (this had been another sticky topic with her as she was adamant that women should eat a bit of their placenta for all its healing powers).
I held my bundle firmly as our midwife and her assistant checked me over for tearing and despite not birthing on the toilet I still tore. She expertly stitched me by torchlight, then helped to shower me and got me ready to bed down with my new baby girl.
Claude and I had planned to lotus birth her (allowing the umbilical cord to fall away naturally instead of cutting it), but as I got into bed that night, for the second time I had visions of ants blanketing us to get to the placenta. We spoke with her about what was going to happen and then allowed the midwife to cut the cord.
The midwife and her assistant left. Claude and I looked at each other in astonishment. Had we really just had a baby? We had already decided that if we had a girl her name would be Kobra.
That night I slept with Kobra, listening to the continual rain falling. I remember waking up once and having to remind myself that I had a baby in bed with me.
The next morning Zenchai had the surprise of meeting his new sister. He had slept through the whole affair but was rather pleased to have a new sibling.
When the midwives returned we spoke about the night's events. Apparently, the assistant midwife's watch had broken and she had told us the wrong time of birth. Our clock had stopped working, too. So she asked around the village to find out if anyone noted the time they heard me stop making sounds and Kobra's first cry. They concluded that it was around 12.30am, so she indeed was born on the 16th not the 15th. But a huge part of me really thinks she was born on the 15th. I guess we'll never know for certain.
We then deduced that Kobra's birth was between 30-45 minutes from start to finish. She really was in a hurry to meet us.
This was also the time when the midwife offered me once again to eat a piece of placenta. She was very concerned for me, especially as I still had the two staph infections. She did not want it to get worse or spread to the baby. I reluctantly agreed to have some but only if it could be blended with some acai (berries) to hide the colour and taste.
Claude was delighted to take up his place in the kitchen. He made me a placenta smoothie, which I drank without any hiccups. The coconut milk and acai totally drowned out any possible placenta taste. And, for the record, my staph infections went away almost immediately after I gave birth - no doubt due to Claude's culinary wizardry.
So in the end everything happened harmoniously. Kobra's birth was extraordinary on so many levels. And everything worked out superbly with the midwife.
Today, I give special honour to my little rocket baby, Kobra Rain Abrams. Already at one you are a reservoir of bliss, joy and happiness. I love you with all of my heart. Happy Birthday baby!
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