What is Physiologic Birth?

What is physiological birth?

We all know that women's bodies were designed to birth the children they grow. We see this evidenced in not just humans, but in other mammals too. From growing bellies that spread hip spans, to swelling breasts that come to drip milk: birth is a part of nature, and our bodies know exactly what to do. There's a hormonal matrix that forms when a mother becomes pregnant with her baby. The two (or three or four ) bodies are constantly in conversation, ebbing and flowing. They are sending signals to each other: "eat more food", "grow another eyeball", "go to the bathroom for the 18th time this hour", etc. So it comes as no surprise that mother and baby co-create the birth experience, too. In a physiologic birth, together without hindrance oxytocin (the feel good, love hormone) flows freely, encouraging the contracting of the uterus, the dilation and effacement of the cervix, and ultimately the birth of the baby. In an undisturbed birth, free from interference of people attempting to manage or control the situation, a mother is the sole authority. She's turning inward, listening to her body, being in tune with her baby. With her body's innate knowledge of how to bring her baby earthside, she works with (or surrenders to) her surges. There's no need for someone to check her dilation, for it doesn't give a time stamp for baby's arrival. Synthetic oxytocin (pitocin) is unnecessary, because there is no rush and her body is already creating the perfect amount for her unique birth. Physiologic birth is, in a nutshell, the original birth. It's the birth we see animals partake in without interference. It is the way our bodies were designed to bring forth the next generation.

With that, I'd like to talk a bit about the birth of my third baby-- at home, undisturbed. After having had a whirlwind last trimester (complete with slowly leaking waters, a lot of pelvic pain, and a huge amount of preparation contractions), Gwenna and I had finally started our birth dance at around 5pm on Thursday night, at 40+6. This was the earliest I'd ever gone into labor, and because of this even though I knew it was going to happen in the next few days (first two labors were 36 and 52 hrs), I hadn't really allowed myself to believe it was happening. I was excited and relieved, but apprehensive. Having had consistent contractions before that prepared my body but didn't bring forth my baby, I was trying not to get my hopes up. I felt the contractions; I timed them for a few hours. By 11pm, they were 4 minutes apart, 1 minute long, and had been that way for 1 hour. Ahh, the good old 4-1-1. If I had chosen to deliver in the hospital again, I'd have been headed in to the maternity ward. But I wasn't. I was staying home. I was excited, but tired. So we decided to play dice, ate some yummy cheese and crackers, some fruit, and enjoyed the quiet anticipation before choosing to turn in for the night.

The best advice I can give any birthing woman: if you think you're in labor-- go to sleep! If you're not quite there yet, then you'll be sleeping, which is lovely for a pregnant woman. But if you're right, then you'll be more rested for when it gears up, if you can manage to get to sleep.

I slept until about 3am, when my almost 4 year old came into our bed. It was the first time he'd done that in over a year! I figured I'd snuggle with him, settle him from the bad dreams he'd had, and then let him stay in our bed for the night. We'd planned for the kids to go to relatives for the birth, so I thought I'd soak this in. But.. then I remembered I was in labor. This was evidenced by my now a bit further apart contractions, which to me validated what I had intuited: this is definitely labor. Usually my preparation contractions did not keep up if I slept. This made me a bit excited, albeit uncomfortable by having an a preschooler velcroed to my side. So I took EJ to bed, went back to my bed, watched my best friend give birth on her live stream in between surges, and realized there was no way I was going to go back to sleep.

Over the next few hours, I did all the exciting nesting things. I was full of energy and joy. The contractions were uncomfortable, but not unbearable, and I had already made a list. I had written my birth vision where I wrote out my ideal birth. So I had a plan. I showered, put on make up, comfortable clothes, packed up the kids, dropped them off with the relatives they were staying with, went to the chiropractor, came home, and cleaned my whole house. The car ride was not comfortable at all, let me tell you. 10/10 do not recommend. I set up the twinkle lights, got out the votive candles, set up the birth pool.. The whole time realizing that meeting my baby was imminent. She kept kicking and reminding me she was there, and I kept breathing through the sensations, blissfully aware of the work my body was doing so well.

Well, I didn't technically do all the cleaning.. By 2pm, I was feeling the burn, and all of my attention was being directed to my surges. There wasn't a need to time them, I could tell they were close together. I mostly just steam mopped the floor and told Brian (my husband) what to do, where to put things, what to make me. He hung the twinkle lights perfectly around the room and filled the birth pool. I had planned everything, so it was all in one place and clearly labeled, he knew where I wanted everything because I'd been talking about it for weeks now. While I started to drift further and further out of the cerebral part of my being and into the intuitive part, Brian prepared the house and asked me if I wanted to call my mom or maybe Kathleen. I'd hired Kathleen earlier on in my pregnancy as a witness. Someone to be with me who knew birth and who I was, to support me, and to hold the container of energy for my birth. I had envisioned a wise woman, knowledgeable about birth, who could hold the mirror for me. Reflect my intuition back to me like an echo to hear, not once but twice. Brian had wanted the comfort of someone well-versed in birth to look to when he needed to know what was going on without disturbing me. For me, I needed to know that there were extra hands for helping and holding. I continued to text Kathleen, but by this point I had decided I'd do it alone. In my labor, I became increasingly more aware of my internal power and ability. While I loved the energy that Kathleen brought with her, it became an almost primal desire to be in solitude, to dig deep within the wells of myself and do this: without anyone else there. Mom was coming from an hour away, I was using my coping mechanisms for my contractions, I couldn't ignore them, it was time to call her. In fact, Brian had to remind me that I wanted my mom there, because I'd debated not calling her either (sorry, mom!). Though I maintained that while Mom could come, I thought that she could just hang out in the other room and be there for the aftermath. I felt quite strongly that I wanted to be alone.

And I labored everywhere. It's a blur now, almost 10 months later, but I know I spent time doing the miles circuit on my comfortable bed (because I found it sooo relaxing); I did hip rotations and light bouncing on my yoga ball; I stood, sat, and cried in the shower; eventually I waddled over to the pool and got in. "Labor will decimate you, you must die to be reborn." These two affirmations repeated over and over in my head. On the outside it doesn't sound so comforting. But to me, it felt like I was a phoenix. The mythological birds who are lit aflame and then when the fire goes out, rise from the ashes anew. I was ready for the rebirth. I knew that I would reach the point where my current self, who I was as a mother of three, wife, woman-- that Sydney would cease to be and alongside my newest baby, I would rise from the ashes as something new entirely. I was excited to meet her, just as much as my new baby.

But, oh sweet the relief of the birth pool. I stayed nourished, drank tea, and kept the lights low. I relaxed. I welcomed the break from the increasingly more intense sensations. While in the pool they did spread out. If I'm totally honest, I'd come upon hour 28 of contractions. So after a while of 5-7 minute apart surges, I was not happy with it slowing down. I was ready to get out of the pool, back on my feet. So I did.

Out of the pool water and into the shower, my chosen place of comfort in all uncomfortable situations. The surges were getting so close they were on top of each other. Water soothes me. I shut the door, told everyone to leave me be. It was just my baby and I. Co-creating her emergence, in beautiful dim lights, the comfort of my home, and in relative silence. I repeated my affirmations in my head. I hummed. I swayed. I threw up just a bit and cried a whole lot. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and an outpouring of sadness, joy, anxiety, overwhelm, bliss, and everything in between was just what I needed. It felt like the floodgates had opened and my soul was pouring out. Quietly, in the peace of my cozy shower, without anyone around: this was that sense of solitude I knew I had wanted. Looking back now, I can confidently say that the hour or two I spent in the shower during my labor at this point was my favorite part of my labor (apart from the birth of my baby, of course). While the relative silence was beautiful, I then began to get vocal.

I realized I was roaring with my contractions. It was then that everything had hit me: how much pain I was in. After having a relatively painless birth with my second, I was shocked by the amount it hurt this time. All of my breathing exercises and calming meditations seemed to slip away from my mind (to be fair, I totally didn't practice them much this time around ). This was about 11pm. I was exhausted, and through that lens, I had decided that this much pain must mean it's not labor (I know, ridiculous ). I knew how to check my cervix, and I did. 3cm. This just confirmed to me that I wasn't in labor. The fact that the surges we're on top of each other, 45 seconds to a minute apart, in excruciating pain, and just unbearable--- that didn't equal labor to me at the time. My waters were mostly intact, I wasn't dilating, therefore this wasn't labor. In hindsight, I now know that this was transition. The period of time where the body switches from early labor to active labor. Pushing and calling baby earthside tends to be imminent. This is the decimation piece of birth. It looks different for every mother. In some cases, this is the "I can't do it" time, or the "let's go to the hospital" time for home birthing planned mamas, or the "GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME" time. For me, this was where I decided I wasn't in labor. Another variation of normal, of course.

I called Kathleen at 11:25. I think the only thing i said was "is it too late?" And then she said no. I don't remember much else about that conversation. I got in my bed and was screaming at the top of my lungs. On my knees I felt like I was being torn into two pieces. I brought my baby earthside (waters bursting as her head emerged) at 11:58pm. I didn't push, which was odd for me. I experienced something called "Fetal Ejection Reflex" (FER), where my body and the baby's body worked together to bring her out. Her head, then moments later the rest of her body slid out onto my bed. She was gurgly, and so instinctively I used my mouth to suction her. She breathed clearly and nursed right after. Most of my placenta followed within minutes. But the lining of it remained inside of me until a while after. I got up, baby attached to placenta, part of the placenta in a strainer in a bowl, part of it inside still, and hobbled into my living room, and with the assistance of Kathleen giving me suggestions on positions (who had arrived a bit after the baby came) successfully birthed the rest of this beautiful life giving organ my body had created. Gwenna's cord was so long, I was able to hold her for most of this.

Afterwards though, I remember having so much energy. Gwennie was tired, so she had a skin to skin nap with dad, while Kathleen helped me to the shower. The most glorious shower of my life, it felt like at the time. While I showered, Kathleen prepared an herbal sitz bath, made tea, cleaned up my bedroom (which.. let's just say, there was a lot of blood), washed my sheets.. oh my goodness what didn't she do? Let's put it this way, my husband says we'll never have another birth without Kathleen there for afterwards. She knew exactly what I needed to have prepared to nestle in bed with my baby, how to talk to my husband and direct him to certain clean up related tasks, and she knew exactly when to leave. When we were all snuggled up to bed with our newest addition, she said good night and we all went to bed.

In the days and weeks following birth, Kathleen stayed in touch regularly. She visited, and bought me things that I needed. We talked about the birth, which was almost surreal to me. Someone was sitting with me, almost as if in ceremony, hearing me speak about this transformation I'd just underwent: the firewalk that was my birth. I had so many questions as I struggled with diastasis recti and prolapse. Since I'd never had difficulty recovering physically from birth, I was lost with how to handle it. Kathleen was so helpful, of course. She brought me herbs, gave me recommendations for what to do physically (hint, 90% of the time it was rest more, because I totally struggled with that), put me in touch with another wise woman to answer deeper questions that she knew could be further expanded upon with the council of an elder midwife. But of course, the most important piece of what Kathleen helped me with? Holding the container for my postpartum. She offered her wisdom in her integrity, encouraged me to rest, reminded me that I was worth the space and centering that I needed.

The reason my birth was physiologic was because of how much my body led experience. Contractions happened spontaneously, her emergence was without even the conscious assistance of me, the way I reacted to her upon her arrival was with initiative, and there was zero outside management of my placenta birth. The benefits of physiologic birth are endless, but to name a few: the ability to stay in that birth land mindset (not needing to answer questions or be observed for possible issues), the requirement of staying in tune with your body (as the ultimate authority, it was on me to recognize if all was well and alert my family if it wasn't), and the ability to only have to recover from birth, not trauma or medications. Above all, I was always in charge. There was no one convincing me to do something else, pulling me away from the process, denying me my autonomy, questioning my authority. In physiologic birth, there is only one authority: the birthing woman. - Sydney