First Person: In a difficult childbirth, a mother finds peace

May 20, 2023

Carrying this mysterious being felt super pivotal in my inner journey. The beginning of pregnancy had me dealing with more morning sickness than with my previous three babies. It was too intense to be ignored, and I took the cue that I need to chill out from my full life of open-door policy, facilitating red tents, hosting sweat lodges, family potlucks, and homeschooling.

This baby and my body wanted me to close the gate, let the land settle, guard our energy, and focus on my priorities. My children and my home.

Directly before finding out I was pregnant, I was feeling a heaviness, an overwhelming need to start truly integrating more of my self. Almost an egoic pull that I had not had in years to get out and do "something." I wasn't sure if it was natural, or a side effect perhaps from not guarding my energy field enough.

Or, from certain family dynamics that hadn't been around for years, that now were here in physical proximity that made me have to deal with my own mirrors. Whatever it was would eventually be purged and cleansed, thanks to baby Sabian's perfect timing and lessons.

Once I knew I was carrying this baby, I wasn't willing to allow in more darkness. We were in this cave together now, and safe. It was very uncomfortable for my social nature to be so inward. However, once the months went on it proved to be the most intense winter here in northern Arizona.

More:Sarah Connell Sanders: Tot time at Newport Folk Festival

More:Listen Up: Singer-songwriter Gracie Day finds beauty, loss on emotional 'Read the Room'

More:Central Mass Jazz Fest returns in September with three new venues and great lineup

Tons of snow and cold cloudy days. My own family tribe lost our patriarch and matriarch shortly after. All this deep diving was not in vain. I was reminded of the enormous importance of these souls coming in to create the new Earth, and the absolute honor it is to be the bearer of this life. A new cycle was being generated within my womb as the bones of my grandparents were being returned to the Earth. This baby was the ray of light rising in the winter.

In 40 or 41 weeks (I've learned by now to generalize my due date), the Full Flower Moon of June rose over the desert hills across from my property. The Farmer's Almanac, and some indigenous peoples, refer to this moon as flower or strawberry moon, in reference to the harvesting season for these plants at this time of year.

My children ran outside like the wildlings they are, howling as it was rising bright and pink. My neighbor walked over, and asked if all that noise was me having my baby. Which would be rude if she wasn't an 85-year old-Sicilian. But I knew she's right to think tonight. I could feel the pull of that moon. Begging me to visit it in the hills. My husband and I took a moonlight stroll, smelling the creosote bushes. Shortly after, the full moon pulled my waters forward like the very tide of time.

My waters opened twice before without contractions. I knew it could still be days. This is an uncomfortable but familiar position for me to be in. I knew the drill on how to self-care. I let my sweet friend, midwife Valarie, know. This time, the waters weren't a slow trickle but a bit heavier. Heavy enough to interrupt our birthday plans for my husband. I didn't feel like being social or hanging out at the creek with friends when I need to wear and keep changing big thick Kotex pads. So, we had a very nice day. Wayne and kids floating in the pool, I baked a pistachio cake, and we celebrated Daddy while I waited for contractions.

This baby definitely did not want to be born on the same day as Daddy. So clear at 11:52 p.m, when I'm getting my first semi contraction and even more clear when they came piling on. By about 12:30 a.m., I had Wayne call Valarie, Knowing my labors are generally pretty quick and being an hour away, she headed here immediately.

My contractions kept building without a break in between. I had only experienced that with my first child who ended up born C-section. And in came all the self doubt. I vomited abruptly. Something literally left my body at that time other than my last meal. I felt an entity that had been tugging lifted out. Even more obvious with the phenomenon of our electricity going out within that next second. No storm. no winds. It was only off long enough for Valarie to get here and witness. I heard Wayne talking about it and stating the time which is 1:30 a.m and before he can tell her he's not sure why it's out it's back on.

My brain intruded a lot during the quickish labor. Last year, I was blessed to attend quite a few births, and witnessing had a new effect on this moment. I was not willing to believe it could be so fast.

Thoughts like, "there's not enough bloody show to be close." Or "don't take a bath it'll slow it down." Or "wait now I'm in the bath and it feels good — I should not feel good! I need to push a baby out!"

My thoughts were closing off my intuition. Until of course, my body took over. My animal instincts moved me to my other bathroom. The bathroom I labored my son in and birthed my daughter in. My comfort spot in the way back of the house where there's only one tiny window. It's further from the sleeping kids. Things were getting louder. I wasn't sure time line but I knew Valarie really hadn't been there long but she said, "You're sounding pushy. Are you feeling pushy?" And sure enough, by the next contraction, I was pushing. But the pushing phase felt like it went on and on. I really thought I was never going to do it, and this baby was not going to be born ever. My legs were tired, but I only wanted to stand.

I was leaning heavily on my husband using the rebozo, a long-flat, shawl-like garment. Which was a first for me, because usually he's caring for kids while I'm in it. I could feel I was finally getting somewhere. Then sure enough, my 3-year-old daughter woke up. She came running in screaming for me, while I was certain I must be crowning -- the moment in birth when a baby's head begins to appear — and feeling the ring of fire.

I tried holding tightly against the threshold of my bathroom door, and then I got down in a low squat, when Wayne left to care for her. But I could hear her needing me and in a way that was what I needed for me to pull it together. I harnessed all my strength back. She needs me.

And that's when baby's head came out. I could feel it was much different than usual and not completely out which usually brings a little relief. Valarie right away could see him "turtling," a birth term suggesting that the baby is not turning as a baby usually does for easy delivery, and he was not turning all the way for birth. I could feel the stagnation. I tried to open my hips more. It hurt more than I've ever experienced and for longer than I've previously experienced. (My daughter had shoulder dystocia as well, in which when the baby's shoulder is wedged and hitting the pelvis, resulting in manual assistance sometimes extremely invasive.)

That's when my trusted midwife said, "On the next contraction, I'm going to help baby out, you need to give a nice strong push." In that moment, I heard the return of my daughters voice still wanting me, and running towards me from the other room. I bore down as hard as I could, and it hurt horribly but the sweet relief was shortly followed with "now grab your baby". I reached for this squirmy wet being and i noticed right away how much he looked like my boys. I knew he was a boy. The time was 4:44 a.m. Really, only after about three hours of active labor — all mostly in the pushing phase — our fourth child, third son, born on the fifth was brought earthside.

The one who waited his turn. His eyes were already wide open, and we looked at each other both telepathically saying "now what was all that fuss about?!" And I mean it. The entire pregnancy to labor and birth. I honestly was carrying some kind of denial or fear. Another child, how can I manage? I was just getting my independence back a bit from my third. I had such resistance. And in his moment at birth was precious clarity. There is nothing-nothing more rewarding, or better than carrying these babies and nourishing them into this world. My husband and daughter made it right in time to view his entrance. I was thrilled for my daughter to witness birth. Even in intervals even if in the moment of intensity, I didn't want her there she was a part of his birth circle.

The boys woke shortly after I delivered the placenta. My oldest couldn't believe he slept through it all. My second more introverted a little afraid to touch him. We all cuddled up and pretty much have been in our sacred home birth bubble since.

I missed Maryn, who I have walked with twice before and consider my deep soul sister. But she was there, after all. As were my grandparents, ancestors and angels when it's all open and raw. I am blessed to have these amazing birth experiences thanks to wise women such as Valarie and everyone else out there not just waiting or wishing but actually living in the new earth. Thankful for the death of the old and those letting go. Thankful to the great Creator, for honoring me as goddess with this divine brilliant body for growing a healthy tribe of light that I get to be matriarch of. And most thankful to Sabian Jade, for coming in when the gate was open, assisting me in clearing unwanted energies, and reminding me of my path without my ego. To be a mother, on the new beautiful Earth.

Christina Maria Butler is a trained body worker and structural integration coach. She lives in Camp Verde, Arizona, where she and her husband have been building community in such services as holding space for teaching, prayer, and gardening. Sabian Jade Butler is the newest grandchild to Mauro DePasquale, executive director of WCCA TV 13 in Worcester.