Benjamin's Birth Story

    BENJAMIN OAK DA SILVA CASTRO

March 21, 2022 (first day of spring!)

4:42 a.m.

7 lbs. 4 oz., 21.5 inches

Born at home

I had a difficult time sitting down to write Benjamin’s birth story because I did not know where to start or how to include all of the details leading up to his birth. From the decisions I made right after James was born that led me on this HBAC (homebirth after cesarean) trajectory, to the gifted necklace I held in my hands days before delivery that was made of unique beads representing each of the women in my life who supported and loved me. I attempted a few times to include it all, but it just wasn’t coming together. So I wrote this birth story directly to Benjamin instead. It may be vague or too figurative in some ways, but it has captured it all for me. Just come and talk about the details with me in person. :) Benjamin’s actual birth isn’t a long complicated story. It was a true culmination of what I had learned from the previous three births and how that became a stepping stone to a deeper learning. I hope I can express the redemptive experience his birth was for me. It was unforgettable–which is very on theme for a Castro birth story. 

My dear baby boy,

Your name is Benjamin Oak. I gave you the name Oak as a reminder of so many things—nature’s own “trees of life” that first connected your body to mine in the womb and that now nurtures you with mother’s milk through infancy, a reminder of the divine privilege and stewardship I hold as a gatekeeper to this world that is symbolized by one of the two trees in Eden, the image of a tree I drew with pastels that came to my mind as I healed and prepared for your birth, nature’s way of teaching me about the seasons in my own life and that your arrival would bring back spring and signs of living again, and the lesson I’ve learned that “in trees and [mothers] good timbers grow” for “good timber doesn’t grow with ease, the stronger the wind the stronger the trees.” My pregnancy with you made me trust in my roots, and not feel weakened by my scarred and weathered trunk. It made me more aware than ever before of the sacred nature of motherhood, pregnancy and childbirth. I could feel my strength and was keenly aware of yours. I know you will stand tall and steady one day, my Benjamin Oak, and I will look up to you. Here is your birth story:

It was Sunday, almost a week after your due date, and that evening we went to our good friends, the Merkley’s house for dinner. We had cheeseburgers with all of the best toppings, and I was so disappointed when I felt my appetite leave me and I couldn’t finish my food. It was such a shame. While we were there, I started to feel some sporadic contractions. After dinner I was chatting with Bianca in the kitchen when a contraction hit me hard enough that I had to breathe through it. I realized then that true labor had probably begun. This was it! 

We went home and, while Papai put the kids to bed, I stayed downstairs to sit on my birthing ball and relax. Immediately after I sat down on the ball a huge contraction came and I couldn’t move. I tried to stand up and my whole lower body felt frozen in place. I knew then that if I stayed downstairs much longer then I probably wouldn’t make it upstairs to where everything was set up for the birth. I called Grandma who was in her room upstairs and asked for her help. I held onto her shoulders and shuffled/waddled my way up the stairs. Of course, after watching me and Grandma awkwardly form a conga line up the stairs, the big kids came running to us and asked if you were coming. I told them no, and to get back to bed. There was no way they’d go to sleep if I had told them the truth. I didn’t mind if they were there to witness your birth, but I had no idea how long labor would be. I told them I would let them know when it was time.

I got to my room, laid down in bed and texted my midwife, Gengi. It was around 8 p.m. I was reluctant to tell her this was “it” but I thought it would be a good idea to give her a heads up before it got too late. She said to text her if I felt a shift in my emotions. I felt fairly calm and like I could get some rest before things ramped up. A strange and funny thing happened—I was laying down, checking Instagram as one does these days, and a video came up of someone deep-cleaning a car. It was so soothing and satisfying and it kept my mind off of the contractions, so I went on to watch video after video of people deep-cleaning cars, rugs, etc. I haven’t watched one of those videos since, but apparently it was just what I needed during early labor. 

At midnight the intensity of the contractions started to pick up and I started to panic. I felt fear wash over me. Oh no, I remember this pain, I thought to myself. There is no turning back now. This was the shift in my emotions Gengi was referring to. I sent her a text and she said she would start heading my way. Her ETA was about 2:45 a.m. because she lived far away. Papai began filling up the birthing tub, knowing I was going to need that soon enough to manage the pain. At some point James had crawled into our bed. I looked at his wild, blonde head of hair and his round, sleepy face. Soon he was no longer going to be my baby boy. It’s always shocking how quickly they seem to grow up when a new baby joins the family. I always grieve that change.

The birthing tub was filled with warm water, the room was lit only by candlelight and I had my labor playlist playing softly in the background. Papai took James into Grandma’s room to sleep. From that moment until I held you in my arms, my eyes were mostly closed. I had officially entered “Labor Land.” The next thing I knew I felt a gentle hand rubbing my foot. Gengi had arrived. She spoke softly and worked quietly around me as she laid out her supplies around the room. Her assistant midwife, Jenna was with her. They helped me into the birthing tub and the warm water dulled the pain and instantly relaxed my muscles for a moment. The pain from the contractions was intense and I tried my best to breathe through them. The midwives helped me move into different positions, rubbed and pressed on my lower back and hips through the contractions and whispered affirmations. There were no cervical checks, no unwanted interventions, no “policies'' or demands—just support. I felt encircled and buoyed up by the Divine feminine. Papai knelt next to the tub, held my hand and pressed a cold washcloth against my forehead. Although they were all quietly cheering me on, I felt like I was fighting against the pain and losing. The contractions kept coming, closer and closer together and I dreaded each one. Gengi suggested I get onto my knees and lay my arms over the side of the tub. My hips ached so badly. I really wanted to move but I couldn't. I didn’t think I could take one more contraction. I felt the urge to push, so I would, but it didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere. Suddenly I was hit by a wave of nausea, warned everyone that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I did so into a bowl Gengi had quickly handed to Papai. I knew that was a good sign. I was in transition! Gengi put a few drops of flower essence into my mouth. It made the awful taste of vomit dissipate and invigorated me. Just minutes after, I felt my waters break and that was another sign this labor was coming to an end. If it hadn’t been such a struggle for me to manage the pain, I wouldn’t have believed labor was almost over. I continued to push, quite vocally and with an intense desire to get my baby out. My other two babies that were born vaginally came out very quickly—just 2 or 3 pushes—so I expected that to be the same or faster with you. But it seemed like you were taking your sweet time. Pushing was still relatively fast, but I had never felt a baby's head crowning for more than a few pushes and it was very painful and frustrating. Later, Gengi told me that one of your shoulders was stuck and she had to help it out. Finally, one last push and you were out. Gengi placed you in my arms, she rubbed your back vigorously and I watched your body and spirit unite as you took your first breath. 

There is nothing like the flood of relief when my baby is finally in my arms. Papai happened to start filming right before the last push and he caught all of it on camera. Watching it over again, the instant jump from being on the edge of despair to total elation is palpable. Papai said he felt it, too. He said it felt like triumph—a victory over all that had come before. It was all worth it. I stared at you as I held you with me in the birthing tub for a while, with the placenta floating beside us in a bowl (our regular popcorn bowl, that I now called “the placenta bowl”). When it was time to get out, my midwives helped me and you out and wrapped us in warm towels. They walked us over and laid us down into my bed. It was absolutely glorious to be in my own bed. Even though I was shaking uncontrollably—probably because of the post-labor shakes and the change in temperature coming out of the water—I felt so happy and comfortable. I was riding that post-labor high. We then proceeded to cut the cord (I can’t remember who cut it! Maybe me?), Gengi stamped the placenta onto a large piece of paper to keep as a print, and then she held it up and explained the different parts. (That placenta is still in our freezer, waiting to be planted under an oak tree for you wherever our new home will be.) Then, for the next couple of hours, I laid in bed holding you on my chest with our beloved Papai beside us. We chatted with Gengi and Jenna while they cleaned up the room. We watched the sunrise through the tall maple trees outside the windows. It reminded me of a line from a song in my labor playlist, “all will be well in the morning.” All was well. One by one, each of the children woke up and wandered up to our room to find a delightful surprise waiting for them. When all of my chickadees were piled into our bed at last, Gengi weighed and measured you while I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Gengi and Jenna got the room into better shape than before the birth, made sure I was well and comfortable, left herbal tinctures and homeopathic remedies next to my bed for recovery, and loved on you and me just a little bit more before they left. Every day for the next few days and then weekly, Gengi came back and sat at the foot of my bed to take care of us. She is an angel and I will treasure her forever and ever. 

I do believe it matters to God how children come into this world and I did everything I could to hold reverence for your journey to life on earth.

James's Birth Story

Unlike the birth stories of my first two, this third one was a long time coming. I’ve just never really felt comfortable sharing it until now. There was a lot for me to process after James was born and even now, a year later, I still haven’t quite digested it yet. The wake of his birth, moving into our first home, the emergency appendectomy two months later, the drawn-out healing, the year of sleepless nights and the echoes of trauma, fear, mistrust, and postpartum-depression have really done a number on me. It’s been the most difficult year of my life, so far, and I am amazed we all made it through. I’ve never once felt that holding James in my arms has been anything less than a privilege and a blessing—I have truly enjoyed him and feel more deeply attached to him than any baby before—yet everything else seemed to consume me. It was such an exhausting dichotomy to live in. This birthday is not only a celebration of an absolutely beloved baby boy who exudes sunshine and joy, but also a triumph of the human will, and testament to the power of a village. It feels like such a feat to get here and I am grateful to be moving on toward brighter days.

James’s birth story echoes some of Liam’s birth story, and I had a feeling that it would. You see, if you don’t know already, I have a uterine abnormality called a “uterus didelphys” which means my reproductive system formed two separate uteruses with their own cervixes. So far, I’ve had three pregnancies (only two full term) in my right uterus and James is the first pregnancy in my left uterus. Throughout my pregnancy my midwives referred to James’s pregnancy as “primigravida” which means “first pregnancy” because it technically was for that uterus. We didn’t know whether James would come quickly like Lily or slowly like Liam, but I guessed it would be the latter. Labor with James did end up being just like my first labor—very late and very long. And it also began on a Thursday. 

I woke up Thursday morning, August 30th, to the familiar feeling of a contraction. I lay in bed feeling them come and go about every ten minutes. I was so relieved labor was finally beginning and on its own. I was 41 weeks and 6 days along in my pregnancy and had been begging for contractions for days. I didn’t tell anyone what I was feeling because I didn’t want to feel any more pressure or give anyone false hope. 

I went to my appointment that afternoon at the midwives’ office for my third NST (non-stress test) and second biophysical profile. The baby was absolutely fine, as I figured, since women in my family usually go late and it has never negatively affected the baby. Our babies just need a little extra time to cook and we should not be held so strictly to the arbitrary “due date” calculations. Just don’t even get me started on that…

I had consistently been feeling contractions every ten minutes but realized if they hadn’t picked up by now then I would not be experiencing a short labor like Lily’s. So I just prayed I was dilating. The midwife checked my cervix and announced, “You’re dilated to 3 cm!” I was over-the-moon. After about 30 hours of labor with Liam I was only dilated to 1 cm. My left cervix may be new to this, but it was dilating on its own—hooray!

 Later that day I told Joel and my mom the good news. Contractions were still ten minutes apart, but we figured that once they picked up then it wouldn’t take too long to fully dilate. I went to bed that night hoping to get as much rest as possible, but as soon as I lay down the contractions felt more intense and closer together. I slept between contractions for a couple of hours, but jumped out of bed after a contraction that made me feel like I was going to throw up. I ran to the bathroom in a cold-sweat feeling nauseous and panicked and thought, “Uh oh…I felt just like this right before Lily was born…did I wait too long? Did I underestimate things again?” I felt an intense contraction and then quickly yelled to Joel, “It’s time to go!” He and my mom quickly pulled things together, called our friends over to watch the kids and we were out the door in about twenty minutes. We left our apartment around 11pm and got the birth center in about 45 minutes. By the time we got there my contractions were back to ten minutes apart. I wanted to cry. I felt so dumb for rushing out the door when I was probably about to be sent right back home. The first mistake of many, but this one was entirely my own.

 The midwife on call, Jenna, met us at the door of the birth center. I explained the situation to her. She said she would check my cervix and and go from there. I was now 4 cm dilated, but obviously not progressing very quickly. She said that with my history (Lily) she didn’t feel comfortable sending me home, but she also didn’t want to admit me and put a time limit on my labor (the birth center usually gives you 12 hours to get into active labor, otherwise you are admitted to the hospital). She graciously asked if we wanted to make ourselves at home in the lobby and see if contractions picked up. I just wanted to have my baby so going back home felt like a huge step backwards. I should have gone home, but I was thrilled to be able to stay and relax. The lobby had a few comfortable couches for us to sleep on so we spent the night there. As soon as I lay down on the couch, contractions picked up again. They were every five minutes. I ate and slept for the next several hours until about 5 am when my contractions slowed down again. I got up and walked up and down the stairs of the birth center for about an hour. I skipped a step as I walked up the stairs and did squats when I got to the bottom of the stairs. I was so determined to will myself back into labor. An hour later Jenna checked me again and I was dilated to 6 cm. It was slow progress, but it was progress! Unfortunately, time was against me. I had until midnight that night (which would officially put me over 42 weeks) to give birth at the birth center or I would have to give birth in the hospital. Jenna sent us outside to walk around until shift change at 8pm. We walked and walked and walked around the cemetery across the street. It was a cool, beautiful morning and the fresh air felt good…too good, though. My contractions stopped. I had maybe two during our walk. 

When we got back to the birth center Jenna and I sat down to talk. We discussed breaking my water to get things moving and give me a better chance of staying at the birth center. I figured that breaking my water at 6 cm seemed like a good idea, so I told her to go for it. After several very painful attempts, Jenna vaguely said, “I can’t seem to do it. Let me get the next midwife on-call. She’s here now.” Lindsey came into the room with Jenna and she attempted to break my waters, too. But she couldn’t seem to do it either. Her attempt was terribly painful for me, too. At one point I told her it was enough. Although she was respectful, I felt injured and almost violated. She suggested we go across the street to the hospital and have one of the OBs they work with try to break it. We walked over to triage and met with the OB, Dr. Miller. I wasn’t happy to be there because I really do not like hospitals, but if Dr. Miller was successful then I could go right on back to the birth center. 

Dr. Miller checked me and then said to Lindsay, “Yeah, I feel it too.” She turned to me and said, “We are feeling some sort of thin membrane that seems to be covering the opening of your cervix. The baby might not be able to even get out that way.” They double-checked their findings by doing a transvaginal ultrasound and then gave me two options: a c-section or an epidural so they could cut out the membrane. Awesome. They said that they might be able to push the membrane out of the way if I got to the point of pushing. It was then that I proposed a third option: put me on pitocin in hopes that I fully dilate and can push. If I was fully dilated then the baby’s head might apply enough pressure to break the membrane or push it to the side. I didn’t want to jump straight to a c-section nor slow down labor even more with an epidural. They were on board with pitocin. They cant administer pitocin during labor at the birth center which meant I would be admitted to the hospital after all. Joel and I went up to Labor & Delivery while my mom grabbed our stuff from the birth center. I asked them to start me “low and slow” on the pitocin and they got me hooked up and ready to go. This was at about 11:30 AM. I was tired, but felt like I had enough energy in me to make it through a few hours of pitocin. After only about 4ish hours of pitocin during Liam’s labor my body dilated from 1 cm to 10 cm, so I was hoping to dilate quickly. 

The next six hours on pitocin were awful. The nurse kept coming in and turning up the dosage. She didn’t say a word to me—she just walked in, pressed a few buttons and walked out. I was annoyed but not in my right mind to talk to her about it. I felt the most intense pressure in my back on the left side. I figured the baby was posterior and had my mom and Joel alternate applying pressure to my back through each contraction. I don’t think I could have handled the contractions without the counter pressure. They were about 1-3 minutes apart and extremely intense back labor. I had specifically told the midwife, Lindsay, when they admitted me to the hospital that I needed her there to help with pain management, but she was nowhere to be found while I was on pitocin. She didn’t help with pain or try to get the baby in the right position. Looking back on this, it really bothers me. Changing the baby’s position could have made all of the difference, as you’ll see later on. She seemed to just check out and let the OB take over even though the midwives are supposed to be the primary care givers whether you are at the hospital or birth center. I’m disappointed in how that turned out. After six hours of laboring through pitocin—walking around, sitting in the bath tub, and laying in bed—I couldn’t take it anymore. It was the most unnatural, unnerving pain. While I was laying in bed I felt my water break. I needed someone to check my progress and tell me the baby was crowning—now! But he wasn’t. I was checked and had not progressed at all. I felt defeated. I told Dr. Miller that I was ready to move onto option #2: administer the epidural and cut out the membrane.

The anesthesiologist came in to give me the epidural and I pretty much wanted to punch everyone in the room. I was still on pitocin, the contractions were too much and it seemed impossible to “hold completely still” as they kept telling me to do. When I was all numbed up, Dr. Miller came in to cut the membrane. She checked me and then said, with surprise in her voice, “Well, I have good news and bad news. Good news is that there isn’t actually a membrane covering your cervix. The bad news is, we have been checking the wrong cervix this whole time.” Did your jaw just drop reading that? Yep, over 30 hours of labor and they had been checking the wrong cervix. Remember how they even double-checked with an ultrasound? The membrane they “saw” did not exist!

I  felt a mix of emotions—shocked, relieved and on the verge of crying. It turns out that my right (non-pregnant side) cervix had been dilating this whole time and that’s what they were feeling. They would reach up through my right cervix and feel the baby’s head against the uterine wall, which they thought was the mysterious membrane. When the midwives were trying to break my water, they were essentially trying to rupture a uterine wall. No wonder it was so painful and, praise the Lord, they weren’t successful. 

 So my right cervix (non-pregnant) was dilated to about 6/7cm and the left cervix (pregnant side) was only dilated to 3 cm at this point. Dr. Miller said this was fine, we will treat it like a first labor and just give it time to dilate completely. With time, she was sure I would deliver this baby vaginally. 

Now, Dr. Miller is a fine doctor and I am grateful I had her there. I don’t blame her for not knowing her way around my unique reproductive system. This was the day we met! She was great at explaining everything to me, showed respect by offering options and listening to my concerns. She was motherly, but not condescending. She felt very familiar to me and I’ve learned over time that strangers who feel familiar to me have been specifically placed in my life by God. My midwife on-call, on the other hand, I am extremely disappointed with. It’s interesting because in my experience that has usually been the other way around. I digress…moving on…

At this point I had been in labor for 36 hours. I was off of pitocin because my cervix was dilating and I was contracting regularly on my own. I lay in bed feeling exhausted and unwell. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was nauseous and my body was weak. I was happy to wait for my body to dilate but it felt like it would never happen. I would never see my baby. I would never be on the other side of this. Unfortunately, the baby seemed to be feeling similarly. During the next couple of hours his heart rate kept dropping. He had always been a strong, happy baby with a steady heart rate. About a month before this I was hospitalized due to abdominal pain “attacks” I’ve been having over the past ten years. This specific “attack” ended up putting me into the hospital and early labor. Throughout my stay the nurses kept commenting on how happy the baby was and how much he was moving through everything. So when his heart rate started to drop at this point I knew it wasn’t good. His heart rate would drop and the doctor and nurses had me rolling around, up on my hands and knees, and hanging over the head of the bed. Each time it took longer to get his heart rate back to normal. They screwed an internal monitor into the baby’s head (which really upset me—like if I were in my right mind that would not have happened). I was dilated to 6 cm now, but he was posterior and his face was presenting which really slowed down the progress. He needed help getting into the right position, but nobody did anything about it. I was so out of it that I didn’t even know how to communicate the need. After about the sixth time his heart rate dropped Dr. Miller sat down and calmly discussed our options. We could wait it out or go in for a c-section. It was so clear to me, Joel and my mom what my next step would be. It was the right decision but a decision I never thought I would have to make. We agreed to go ahead with the c-section. I made it very clear how much I wanted to avoid it, why I wanted to avoid it and the anxiety I felt about the surgery. Dr. Miller talked me through every thing and promised me a few things to make me feel more comfortable throughout the surgery. They wheeled me into the blindingly bright operating room and I felt at peace, anxious, relieved and terrified all at once. 

 We were told the surgery would take about an hour—including prep time. After they prepped me they brought Joel into the room. He held my hand and kept me calm. He also held the cup I kept vomiting into. Poor guy. Dr. Miller did the “pinch test” where she would pinch parts of my abdomen to see if I was numbed completely. She pinched above my belly button and I said, “Yep, I felt that one,” to which she replied, “Well…I’m really sorry Sara but I have to start because the baby has been off of the monitor for too long.” It totally freaked me out that I was about to be cut open and possibly feel it. I didn’t, thank goodness. Although c-sections are actually pretty intense. I was surprised at how much I did feel. I even cried out in pain a few times at the end. You’re not just feeling “pressure”.  

At 11:34pm on Friday August 31st, 2018, ten minutes after they began surgery, I felt them pull the baby out of me. I looked up and saw my healthy, crying baby. He looked very familiar to me and I said to Joel, “Yeah, that is definitely our baby!” They announced we had a boy and we both cried. I didn’t cry when my other babies came out, but the relief in this moment was palpable and we were so grateful for our healthy baby to be OUTSIDE of my body. And it was a boy! How wonderful! He had swallowed some meconium so he had to be suctioned and put on CPAP, but he was fine otherwise. James was born weighing 7 lbs. 7 oz. and measuring 20 inches long. Joel followed him to the nursery about 45 minutes later, but not before he saw that things with me were taking a turn for the worse.

 I had asked for someone to be talking me through the surgery. I just wanted updates to help keep me calm, but after the baby was taken care of things got quiet. Joel said he would look over the curtain at Dr. Miller’s face and she kept shaking her head. Dr. Miller eventually said, “Sara, I’m very sorry but I cut your bladder. I’m stitching it up now.” And that was it. She told the anesthesiologist to give me shots of something in my arm a few times. I spent the next hour and 45 minutes on the operating table unsure what was going on and calling out over the curtain, “Am I going to be okay?” I was exhausted and out of it and couldn’t keep my eyes open with the bright lights above me. Nobody was telling me anything so my thoughts went wild. Joel was in the Nursery with the baby during that hour and 45 minutes planning my funeral. It all felt very dramatic. The midwife, Lindsey, had taken Joel’s place holding my hand by my side. Now I can’t remember if this happened while she was next to me or while Joel was next to me, but at one point I felt someone else holding my hand on the opposite side. The anesthesiologist was over there and I thought, “Oh that’s nice of him to do that.” I turned my head to see him and there was no one there. It was crystal clear that someone on the other side was watching over and comforting me. In fact, before I could even imagine who it could be I immediately thought of Joel’s dad. I believe it was him, and I was so grateful for that tender moment.

Once they took me out to the recovery area, Dr. Miller came in to talk to me. She explained that due to my uterine abnormality my bladder isn’t in the normal spot. It’s higher than usual, kind of peeking out between my two uteruses. She said that at one point during surgery my bladder and my two uteruses were completely outside of my body. I sincerely hope they made it back to their usual place. I was told later that the surgery was much longer than anticipated because the bladder was difficult to repair. I wish that would’ve been communicated at the time because Joel and I were very shaken up by the unknown. The thoughts we had then still haunt us now. 

 Due to the incision on my bladder, I would have to have a catheter in for ten days. Let me tell you, those ten days drove me absolutely crazy. An infection, a 6 hour trip to the ER with my newborn in tow, and four rounds of antibiotics later and I was finally done with the bladder ordeal (two months later I had an emergency appendectomy and two more rounds of antibiotics…but that is another story).

Out of this long, complicated labor came a perfect, beautiful baby boy. When Joel brought him to me in recovery James latched on right away and started nursing like a pro. In that first month, he ate well, slept well, was so sweet and happy and glowed just like an angel. I couldn’t be more grateful for and in love with him. He was my pal and my source of joy throughout a painful recovery. And even after all we’ve been through—when I look at him it makes me want a million more babies. 

I’ve accepted that labor will never be “normal” for me (I mean c’mon, my three labors have been VASTLY different), but he is proof that it is all worth it in the end. After all is said and done, I feel a much deeper sense of pride and honor to be a mother. Thank you, and happy birthday, my sweet baby James.

Lily's Birth Story

My pregnancy with Lily began just like the old wives would predict: a miserable amount of nausea and vomiting because I was now growing a sweet, little girl inside of me. Once that tapered off, the pregnancy was smooth and easy. My intuition (which I believed would reveal so much about my pregnancy with Liam but absolutely disappeared the moment the stick read positive) was clear that she would be a strong woman born with a full head of black hair. One evening I sat in the temple with the intent of just meditating on her. I felt she would be a powerful influence in the world and that her personality would be all her own. I felt I was carrying someone very special inside of me.

Lily’s birth story begins at 34 weeks. That is when we found out she was breech. 34 weeks is too early to worry about the breech position, but my midwives wanted me to prepare. While I did start trying right away to get her to turn, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that she wasn’t going to comply.

During the next few weeks I diligently did all of the “spinning babies” exercises, went to a chiropractor certified in The Webster Technique, did handstands in the pool, put ice packs on top of my belly, and even tried to will her head down with meditation. All the while, I also prepared myself for what would happen if she didn’t turn. After a lot of prayer, study and putting my faith in the Lord I came to a final thought: a c-section would be the last resort. I’m not anti-cesarean, but the Spirit has testified to me several times throughout the years that because of my uterine abnormality I want to avoid a c-section. Since the uterine abnormality was discovered, several doctors told me I would only be able to give birth by cesarean. Two years ago, I put my faith in the Lord and in my body and had an uncomplicated, vaginal birth with Liam. Now the Lord was telling me to do it again. It was frightening because there is a stigma around breech birth, but the more I researched it the more comfortable I felt. The only problem was finding an option that didn’t seem to exist anymore: a vaginal breech birth. Cue my angel-of-a-midwife, Kirsten.

The midwives I see aren’t allowed to deliver a breech baby, so my only option with them was a c-section with one of the OBGYNs they work with at the hospital. During one of my visits, Kirsten expressed her support for my decision and had confidence in my reasoning and research. She referred me to Dr. Morosky, an OBGYN who delivered breech babies. It was the only OBGYN she knew of in Connecticut who delivered breech babies. I called Dr. Morosky later that day and we talked over the phone for 45 minutes (yes, 45 minutes—unheard of!). He is in his sixties and has delivered breech babies all throughout his career (he does so because he was a breech baby). He is incredibly skilled and experienced. I could go on and on about his history as an OBGYN; suffice it to say, I would be in the hands of one of the best. When I met him in person I felt peace and comfort. He seemed so familiar to me. The Lord was lovingly guiding me along and answering my prayers. I scheduled an external cephalic version—my final hope for turning the baby— with Dr. Morosky and hoped for the best.

Dr. Morosky delivers at a hospital northeast of Hartford. That is about 2 hours away from where we live. We drove to the hospital early Saturday morning (exactly a week before Lily was born) and I was admitted for the procedure. The risks of external cephalic version are low, and Dr. Morosky has an exceptionally high success rate of 70%, so I was willing to take this last attempt at turning the baby. Honestly, I knew it wouldn’t work because that feeling was still there, but I had to know I tried every thing I could. After three extremely, awfully, terribly painful tries, the baby was still breech. They monitored her heart rate throughout the procedure and she wasn’t even fazed by the doctor trying to manually turn her. But, after the third try, the pain was so bad that my blood pressure plummeted to less than half the normal measure and I passed out on the table. The room flooded with nurses and the anesthesiologist rushed in. I, thankfully, came to and was stable in just a few minutes. We were both fine, but I was ready to go home and just let us both be. I felt relieved, knowing we had done all we could and that we had safe options for the baby to be delivered. The plan was to stop by the birth center as soon as I went into labor, double-check that she was still breech and, if she was, then we would continue the drive up to the hospital and Dr. Morosky would deliver her there. Now all I had to do was relax and enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy.

On Saturday morning, October 10^th, after the best night’s sleep I had in a while, a contraction woke me up around 6:30 a.m. I lay in bed for a little while feeling a few more come and go and thinking, There is no way this is real labor. I woke up Joel by saying, “Guess what I’ve been feeling? Contractions!” We both just laughed it off. I was 11 days late with Liam, and the women in my family have a history of going late—like 2 weeks to a month late—with all of their babies, so the last thing I expect is to have a baby before my due date. With Liam, the doctors kept telling me he would be early and had me prepared to have a baby by 37 weeks. It wasn’t until an entire month later that Liam arrived. This time around, I spaced the baby prep out and had only partially packed my hospital bag and washed some baby clothes by this point.

We went ahead with our morning, making breakfast and laughing over remarks like, “We could have a baby today!” or “How shocked would our families be!” and “We are totally unprepared!” My jokes started turning into nervous laughter when I felt the contractions coming regularly. At around 7:00 a.m. I told Joel that we should probably get what we can finished this morning just in case we do have the baby today. We made a list: finish packing the hospital bag, wash the car seat cover, install the car seat, pack a bag for Liam, change the sheets and throw a meal in the crockpot. Labor with Liam lasted 36 hours, so we were expecting to not even leave the house until later that day. The baby’s position felt exactly the same as it had been for the last few weeks. I could feel her head up by my rib cage. I knew she was still breech, so we decided to drive straight to the hospital instead of stopping by the birth center. Around 7:45 a.m. I called a friend and asked her to pick up Liam and Joel threw in a load of laundry. The next hour felt like 10 minutes.

I felt frustrated because I could barely move into the next room without another contraction coming along and stopping me in my tracks. I was no help in getting anything done. Liam was toddling around, trying to take the birthing ball I was practically bouncing on from one room to the next because I couldn’t walk very well. I kept telling Joel that I could feel the weight of the contractions in my bottom and, after hearing that, Liam repeatedly asked me if I needed him to check my diaper. He also brought me one of his binkies because I was in pain. He is a sweet and funny little boy. Around that time I told Joel to call Dr. Morosky and finish what we could because we needed to get in the car soon. Dr. Morosky said it might be false labor but we were welcome to come to the hospital. I knew it wasn’t false labor and even if we ended up being at the hospital for a while I just wanted to get myself settled there. We had a 2-hour car ride ahead of us and it sounded more miserable the more time went by.  

I felt like such a wimp---how would I make it through any more labor if I could barely handle these first couple of hours? The contractions were intense and they came practically on top of each other. I remembered parts of my labor with Liam being just like this and I was only dilated to one centimeter at that point, so the intensity didn’t make me think I was progressing quickly. It took me so long to just put on a shirt and pants because I couldn’t find a break between contractions. I felt nauseous and a cold sweat came on. I started to think, “I can’t do this. I’m not going to make it. Just let me stay here. I don’t want to move!” Those were all symptoms of transition I felt with Liam, but that didn’t register at all. I kept brushing off the pain because I did not think for a second that I was in the final stage of labor. It was 8:40-ish and our friend picked up Liam. I said a quick prayer in my head, asking the Lord for comfort, relief and guidance. I told Joel I would use the bathroom one last time and then we would get in the car. As soon as I sat down I felt a HUGE contraction. It felt like my whole body went into it. I yelled, without even knowing what I was saying, “I think the baby is coming!” Then I felt another HUGE contraction and heard a loud POP. “Uhh…my water just broke!” That’s when I knew the baby was on her way out. I was completely shocked. Joel said, “That’s okay, we will just go to Norwalk hospital instead. Let’s go!” My water didn’t break on its own with Liam, so Joel thought we still had at least enough time to make it to the nearest hospital. “I felt another huge contraction and this time my entire body PUSHED. I felt like someone had taken over and I was just a bystander. I reached down and felt the baby’s bottom coming out. It was soft and squishy. I yelled, “NO, the baby is coming out NOW!” I told Joel to call 911. The phone call to 911 lasted 8 minutes and the following happened in just that short time.

There was no stopping my body, so I started to work with it. Lily’s bottom and right leg came out. Then came her left leg, and torso. I tried to keep my hands off (which some say is best in a breech birth so as not to stimulate the baby) but I gently held her feet up so they weren’t dangling in the cold water. Next came her shoulders and arms. While I was delivering her body, Joel was on the phone with 911 relaying instructions and updates. While he was giving them our information I yelled “The baby is out!” He then put 911 on speakerphone, set the phone down and ran into the bathroom. When he saw Lily’s entire body dangling out of me, he panicked and rushed forward to pull her out. He said that for a split second he forgot she was breech and thought her head was in the water.  At that exact moment (thank goodness) my body pushed her head out and she practically glided into Joel’s hands. Joel held her and screamed, “Her neck! The cord is wrapped around her neck!” He tried to take the cord off of her neck but there was no slack. He started to cry, handed me the baby and stepped backward out of the bathroom. I could see him pacing back and forth in the hallway crying, “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do!”

First, a breech birth is a strange thing to see. The first video I had watched of a breech birth made me feel queasy and I love birth videos. I warned him that he should watch a breech birth before the baby came because I knew it would scare him. Second, he still wasn’t used to what a baby looks like when it is born. When Liam was born Joel thought he was dead because he didn’t know that some babies come out kind of limp and grey-ish. So to not only see our baby girl come out bottom first, he also saw her limp and grey with the cord wrapped tightly around her neck.

I told him that she was okay and took the baby from him. I held her head with one hand and unwound it from the cord instead of trying to unwrap the cord itself. The cord was wrapped around her neck maybe 3 or 4 times. I asked Joel to find a bulb syringe—which he found and brought it to me extremely fast. Then I laid her in my lap and rubbed her back and torso trying to stimulate her. Joel said he could hear me saying, “Come on baby…Come on baby.” I wiped off her mouth and nose. In a matter of seconds she turned a beautiful shade of pink and slowly opened her eyes. She looked straight at me. That connection made everything feel calm and quiet. She cried. I took off my shirt, held her to my chest and wrapped a towel around us. She was fine. I was fine. We were all fine.

And she is here! Elizabeth “Lily” Magaly da Silva Castro. Born at 8:51 a.m. 5 pounds 12 ounces. 20 inches.

I had the feeling of stepping back into my body—the cold toilet underneath me (yes, she was born on a toilet!) and a wet, squirmy baby in my arms—as the room flooded with police officers and paramedics. They tied the cord with some shoelaces and a few minutes later I delivered the placenta. The paramedics and police officers arrived a few minutes after she was born. 

I was in our teeny, tiny bathroom, inside of our tiny apartment, but I felt as happy and peaceful as I do sitting inside the holiest of temples. I smiled as I cut the cord with the paramedic at my feet, smiled as they wheeled us out on the stretcher, and smiled all the way to the hospital. Later, during my hospital stay, my nurse said she watched me come in “just beaming from ear to ear looking like a queen being carried in on her throne!” 

Lily’s birth wasn’t scary or traumatic for me. It was incredible to witness the miracle of the human body working so perfectly and to work alongside it to deliver my baby. God blessed me with calmness, He guided me, and He prepared me. The years of reading, studying and just being fascinated by childbirth prepared me for that moment. Lily coming five days early, being so little, and coming so quickly were not just coincidences. The last month, from finding out she was breech to holding her in my arms, played out like a symphony. Every note in its place, delivered perfectly. It was beautiful to be a part of. 

 

Joel and I could not decide on a name during my pregnancy. We had the hardest time even coming up with a list of possibilities. After Lily was born, we sat in the NICU (she was fine, they just brought her there because she was born outside of the hospital and breech) and looked up the meanings of the names on our list. Elizabeth means “pledged to God” which reminded us of how we owe everything to Him—especially this strong and healthy baby. Her nickname “Lily” (less common than others, but still a derivative of Elizabeth) comes from the New Testament verse, “And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin.” Our Lily is a tiny, delicate thing, but her strength runs deep as roots in the soil. Before she was even born, and especially during her birth, she taught us to trust in the Lord and she will always be a symbol of faith. Her middle name “Magaly” (mah-gah-LEE) is after Joel’s mother who was also breech, born at home and delivered by her mother. Fitting, yes?

  

That day in the temple I knew she would be a powerful influence; I just never expected it to start so early in her life. We are blessed to have Lily in our family, and her birth story is one for the books.

My new definition of "busy"

Someday my baby will nap in his crib (not in my arms) and I will have a moment to write again...but for now I will enjoy snuggling him and staring at his peaceful, sleepy face. 

I can't get enough of his silly face either. 

Awake or asleep, this baby has my full attention.

A Baby Blessing

Since my mom and Joel's mom overlapped their visit, we decided last minute to have his blessing the next week. It was special to have family there and we wish we could've had all of our family attend. Liam was still so teeny tiny, and we were a bit frazzled, but it turned out to be just fine.

The morning of, I stared at him for a while in awe that I had a baby and he was going to receive a name and a blessing. How was I at this point in my life already? Liam looked like an angel and he was so small.

It was a special day not only for Liam but for Joel, as well. It was Joel's turn to do something for Liam that I could not do. To commemorate, I bought him a new tie and had Liam's monogram and the date of his blessing embroidered on the inside. I plan to give one to Joel for each child. His part as a father and priesthood leader is so important to our family.

After the blessing we went to my aunt Sarah's house for lunch. Sarah (we actually call her Bear) nicknamed Liam "Yum Yum" when I was pregnant with him. Now the family calls him that and we love it. He's delicious, so it fits.

Ryan & Joel

Maggie & Patricia

We love that we live so close to my mom's side of the family. It was great to be able to celebrate this day with them. We appreciate their love and support.

Ella & AJ giving him love pats & kisses

My cousin Elizabeth & Aunt Buffy

Aunt Sarah & Uncle Michael

We never got a chance to catch the details of Liam in his blessing outfit before he spit up all over it, so a week later I took the following pictures. It was fun to dress him up again. The blanket he was wrapped in on his blessing day is the one behind him in these pictures. My sister, Rachael, crocheted it. It's beautiful and so soft. It is so special to me that I don't want to use it for anything else!

Liam's Birth Story (Part 2)

When she told me I hadn’t progressed at all I, surprisingly, felt much less discouraged than the first time I heard it. I was disappointed, but by this point I felt like I had done everything I could possibly do. I wasn’t angry or embarrassed. My body was run ragged, but my mind was clear and I was ready to start making some choices. I had prayed for the gift of discernment so that I could make difficult decisions during labor if I had to and do what was best in my situation. I didn’t want someone else making those decisions for me and I didn’t want unnecessary intervention. Cathy said I had two options from this point: I could keep laboring on through a second night, or I could check into the hospital and be put on Pitocin (a drug that intensifies labor to help you dilate more quickly). She left it at that and exited the room so Joel, my mom and I could discuss what to do next. It was sort of funny because I looked at the two of them and they were completely deadpan and silent. Finally I said, "I think it's best to go to the hospital now," and I could see them both relax with relief. They knew how much I did not want to go to the hospital (hospitals make me so anxious) so they didn't want to pressure me into it, but they thought it was the right choice. Cathy came back in and I told her my decision. She had the same reaction as Joel and my mom. Cathy and I both agreed that a vaginal delivery was our ultimate goal (besides mine & baby’s health, of course). I knew there was a high possibility that if I continued to labor on my own that I would never dilate. Having two cervixes can stop the cervix of the pregnant uterus from pushing forward and dilating. Cathy said that one of the women with a didelphic uterus that she assisted never dilated on her own.  This option increased my chance of an emergency cesarean birth and I wanted to avoid that at all cost. So we discussed the dosage of Pitocin she would put me on and how she would be my caregiver at the hospital. The birthing center is directly across the street from the hospital and the midwives have a great relationship with the staff. They deliver babies there all of the time. She highly recommended I get an epidural because of the combination of Pitocin and already having been through 28 hours of labor. While epidurals can start a snowball effect of complications, they can also help by relaxing the mother. I still didn’t want an epidural, but I knew she was right. We then headed over to the hospital, Cathy close behind, and as I hobbled into Labor & Delivery (oh was I a sight to see!) I knew this was the right step. We were going to have a baby soon.

I expected my time in the hospital to be more pleasant. (No pain thanks to the epidural—this should be the easy part, right?) But the next 6 hours were much worse than the last 28 hours. I had an I.V. in one arm and the other was being poked for multiple vials of blood. Monitors were strapped tightly around my belly and I was lying awkwardly in bed because of the numbness of the epidural. I hated it. I felt confined and claustrophobic. I felt like a sick patient. It was a whole different world than the last day and a half. My heart rate monitor kept going off because I could not get my anxiety under control. A few hours into it, half of my body was so numb I felt like I couldn’t breathe and the other half was barely numb at all so I could still feel the contractions. I had an amazing Nurse—she was an ANGEL!—that was motherly and empathetic but tough. I really appreciated how she listened to me. She convinced the anesthesiologist that something was wrong with the epidural. Eventually he came in and redid the epidural and discovered the tube had slipped out. When he was redoing the epidural, I know now that I was going through transition. I was doing everything I could not to throw up but I vomited anyway. They wouldn’t let me drink water because I would throw it back up but I felt like I was about to pass out. I felt like I was outside of my body and dreaming. I was so exhausted but, because of the pain and my anxiety, I still hadn’t been able to sleep. Once the second epidural was administered, I got about a half an hour of sleep until Cathy came in to check me and said, “You’re a 10. Let’s start pushing!” We were all shocked. It had only been 6 hours since I was admitted to the hospital and they expected it to take double that time. Joel jumped up from the couch (he had fallen asleep) and came to my side. My mom came to my other side to help me with the oxygen mask between pushes (those deep breaths felt like I was being pumped with extra strength). Pushing was awesome. 34 hours of having no control over my progress and finally, I did! That, plus Cathy’s very specific coaching, is probably why it went so quickly. After less than 20 minutes of pushing, Liam was born at 2:10am. I remember I kept thinking Finally! Finally!

William da Silva Castro
7 lbs. 2 oz., 20 inches

I got a good look at Liam’s face and he looked exactly like Joel. I looked up at Joel to tell him and I caught him wiping away tears from his eyes. It was a sweet moment. It had all happened so quickly that we were both caught of guard. We cried and hugged each other. We both couldn’t believe that Liam was actually here. He was covered in meconium so they had to suction him off to the side, but they kept him in the room because he was doing fine in a matter of seconds. 

Thanks to Cathy, the SuperMidwife, I only had a tiny tear and was cleaned up pretty quickly. I held my sweet, baby boy in my arms and nursed him. Then we all just stared at the little miracle. It’s amazing how calm and happy everyone was after the tumult of labor. We ate, laughed and adored our newborn. They are magical, those babies. From that moment on he had changed everything. Our present and future had been changed and even the way we thought about our past. We’ve never loved anything so much. 

Remember how two days earlier I did my hair so they would look good in these pictures?? HA!

Once the exhaustion hit me again, the Nurse wrapped Liam and placed him in Joel’s arms without asking him if he wanted to hold him. She said she never asks dads that question, she just hands them the baby. For a couple of hours, as I slept, Joel held Liam. That was a very important time for the both of them.

As difficult as some moments were, Joel and I both feel blessed that everything turned out the way it did. It wasn’t ideal but, under the circumstances, it was the best way things could have gone. I’m grateful for my past experiences of “mind over matter” when it came to pain and anxiety. I didn’t realize it, but it was the best training for labor. Hypnobabies is a great resource that works wonders for some women, and I used a few of their visualizations, but in the end I already had an ingrained way of dealing with pain and Hypnobabies mostly got in the way. I think I’m going to read more about The Bradley Method for next time around though. I’m also grateful for modern medicine and trained professionals that helped when my body couldn’t do what it needed to. I’m happy that I got to see what labor was like for me outside and inside of a hospital, with and without medication. It wasn’t a traumatic experience and I actually look forward to next time. This article I read a week after Liam was born could not have captured my feelings about childbirth any better. It is my extreme sport. Cathy gave me her word that with the next baby I will only labor for 4 hours and the baby will pop right out. I’m holding her to it! ;)

Grandma Ann & Liam

Showing us his tricks--he could lift his head and turn from side to side

Going home outfit. I remember thinking there was no way he would fit into this tiny outfit. 

Now we are a family of three.