It was a Sunday. Just after midnight- 12:45 AM, August 7th, her 'due date'.
The week leading up to it proved more challenging than I imagined it ever could be. The entire duration of my pregnancy (post first trimester) I felt great in my body, more comfortable in my skin than ever before, totally blissed out in pregnancy with the presence of such a miracle within me, but those final days - wow. I didn't expect such discomfort - primarily emotionally, but physically and mentally as well. You'd think as a practitioner of yoga I'd manage the heightened discomfort well. It's what I live and breathe after all. Humbling to say the least, those last few days taught me many lessons about how much I don't know.
It was an amalgamation of my own stories being created and the unsolicited advice/comments from friends and strangers alike. 'When is that baby coming?!' People would ask. If I knew the answer it would save me much of the inner turmoil bombarding my mind and my heart at present! 'You must be well beyond your due date.' Well thanks, but no, I'm not - and you just made me feel like a million bucks. Insert eye roll. 'You aren't even that big!' Is that supposed to make me feel good?! The comments - oh my Goddess the comments. And I'd been working so hard at appearing as though I had it all together that the efforts of seeming 'in tact' created more upheaval and rigidity in those final days and led to my eventual, inevitable unraveling. Beautifully necessary unraveling I might add, for the ability to bring my daughter into this world. I had told myself so many times she was going to come early that by the time I actually reached my said due date I didn't think she would ever come. In hindsight signs of her arrival were there all along. The crystal clear image of her sleeping in her bassinet the evening before my water broke, the blue jay feathers placed perfectly on my path, the heightened sensations in my body, the breakdown (or perhaps breakthrough), an earth angel working at the co-op gifting her prayers the eve of her birthday and the number 7 delivered to me by a well trusted psychic many months prior. It all makes so much sense now. Of course she came when she did. And she was right on time.
Oh, My Mama - a song offered to me two nights before the big event by my beautiful Samantha Jo - gave me permission to break down so I could break open. To release whatever it was I was gripping so tightly - the stories, the comments, the anxiety and fear - so I could simply surrender to the experience of giving birth to my daughter and, in turn, giving birth to myself as a mother. The night this song was bestowed upon me I sat in the bath tub (my sanctuary) and cried until I couldn't cry any more. I understood that the reason I resisted allowing such feelings was the barrier of guilt. I felt that if I gave into any kind of negativity it might appear as though I was ungrateful for this experience I'd been waiting years for. I hadn't yet figured out how to honor the discomfort of the past few days in a way that felt authentic and pure and still illustrate my unparalleled bursting heart. A life-long lesson I've been learning is this: multiple emotions can and do co-exist and just because one is present doesn't dismiss or devalue another. This song, Oh, My Mama, these sacred lyrics, have held such meaning since that Friday before it all happened.
Saturday night Eric and I lay side by side. He asked me how I was feeling and I said I was scared. I had already opened the doors and welcomed the company of fierce vulnerability - something I've resisted sharing with others for most of my life. There was nothing I was in control of - this partially liberated me and equally terrified me. I cried. He held me. Such a necessary and powerful moment to be seen in my rawest, truest place of uncertainty and discomfort within the uncertainty without the burning desire appear perfect - to uphold some idea of perfection for myself, my husband, my friends and everyone else around me. An idea I had created. An illusion that I had to release in order to relax and give in to what was happening within me. It was one of the most liberating moments of my life.
Rewind several months to my journey back to NY after living in Maine for 3 years. Having tread some tumultuous water over the previous 2 years with 2 miscarriages (and PTSD from them) and trouble in my relatively new marriage I made one of the bravest decisions of my life. I left Maine, my husband and my work to venture back to my home, my family, my friends and my safe haven where I knew I could pursue the utmost health, where I would be surrounded by nurturing and nourishment and where myself and my baby would be in the reverent midwife hands of the one woman in this world who I trust with every fiber of my mind, body and heart - Kelly McDermott.
I was introduced to Kelly nearly 5 years ago when my soul sister's daughter was caught by her loving hands in the intimate, safe, sacred and intentionally created space of her home. Something about her was magnetic - her wisdom timeless - her dedication limitless. She embodied passion, she was the essence of mother and clearly demonstrated her expertise with humility and grace. The way she cared for my friend and her child struck such a profound chord with me. I knew from that moment when my time came to embark on the path toward motherhood and actualize this life long dream that I wanted to do it with Kelly by my side. There was simply no other way.
After moving to Maine and falling in love my dream of being in close proximity to Kelly seemed unrealistic, but somewhere deep within myself I knew she would always be an integral piece of my story. My journey into motherhood has been one filled with the greatest joy and the most heart wrenching pain over the last two years - and Kelly has stood by me in trust and faith from day one - it mattered not that we were separated by miles. She held my hand and walked me through two miscarriages - never doubting me or my body - helping me fall into a space of surrender and trust in my weakest moments.
Funny the way the universe works, right? Divine and perfect all the time. Even when we can't see it. Kelly and I had many exchanges over the first several weeks of my pregnancy. She anchored me in the midst of my unquenchable fears and post traumatic stress anxiety from my previous experiences of loss. She was there. Always. And she guided me, perhaps without even knowing, to be courageous enough to take the leap of faith necessary to transition back to NY.
And because every story needs a twist ... Kelly let me know early on of her intention to be on vacation in Brazil to support her daughter at the olympics on and around my due date. My prayer every day, multiple times a day, was for this miracle baby to be birthed healthfully, safely, easily and gracefully at home with Kelly present to guide, support and love us. Somehow I knew that she would be with us. The connection was too strong for it to be any other way. Over the course of my pregnancy when Kelly would talk about potentially not being there for our time I would dodge the conversation and rely on the power of prayer.
After the devastating loss of her own daughter, Celeste, and the heavy impact such loss has on a family things began to change shape. Plans shifted from Brazil to Florida to the realm of uncertainty. It was about 3 weeks before my due date that Kelly informed me she would be staying local - that indeed she would be with us. Oh my goddess!!! Words have no capacity to capture the extent of my gratitude. It seems silly to even try. And truthfully the only 3 people who will ever understand how meaningful all of this was and will continue to be throughout time and space are myself, Kelly and my sweet Ruby.
As my due date was approaching Kelly shared that she would be placing her daughter's ashes on August 7th from 4-9 PM. I believe in her message to me the exact words in regards to Ruby were, 'she is a polite young miss... she will accommodate'. I had very little concern about this day and time because statistically 5% of women go on their due date and I had just wrapped myself around the idea that I could be pregnant for another couple of weeks. There was no way the 7th was going to be the day it all went down.
Returning to the evening of August 6th, in my bedroom with Eric, offering myself the space for enormous release, I finally settled on the faith that everything was happening on time. I allowed myself to surrender and to trust my baby, my body, God and the unraveling of it all. I fell asleep feeling supported and at ease.
At 12:45 AM, just after midnight, I awoke from an intimate dream with a friend to a gush of warm fluid between my legs. I remember thinking to myself 'this doesn't feel like pee.' When I stood up it poured out of me. Slippery, warm, uncontrollable fluid. And I realized, in utter disbelief, that my water had broken. Disbelief because not many of my friends' water had broken. My mother's water didn't break with her 3 babies. I was under the impression that my water was not going to break because whose water actually breaks to begin their process?!?! But holy fucking shit! My water broke! I stayed as calm as anyone could knowing there was a good chance that this could be an all day affair. I gently woke Eric to let him know, opened my parents bedroom door to let them know and then sat on the toilet and watched in amazement as this thing overcame my body.
When I called Kelly she suggested I get some rest and keep her posted. I knew rest was best. My contractions hadn't yet begun, but every time I attempted laying down more and more fluid would waterfall out of me. My uneducated and inexperienced idea of water breaking was a one time expulsion. A trickle. Maybe a big gush. But a one time deal. Not a continuous fire hydrant style leakage requiring the majority of the towels in the house. Seriously. So although I gave rest a chance it wasn't in the cards for me that night. I was in an out of bed several times attempting to close my eyes and then fetching more towels trying to keep things clean for the big event.
By 1:30 AM I started feeling it. The waves of sensation were mild and manageable and I actually enjoyed feeling them rise and witnessing them dissolve. This lasted only a short time before the intensity started rising at what seemed like lightning fast speed. Eventually I made my way downstairs so as to not disturb Eric's sleep. I would lean over the kitchen counter, bow my head and sway my hips side to side to for relief. I was in an out of the bathroom releasing my bowels multiple times. At one point I thought to myself, 'I want to remember all of this,' so I took a picture in the mirror. I was amazed at how different my belly looked after contractions started. I'm so glad I have that moment captured.
Soon when contractions would come the only thing I could do was move to the floor and assume somewhat of a fetal position. I couldn't speak. Every ounce of my attention and energy was on moving through each wave. Eric had made his way downstairs by now and suggested I call Kelly to let her know how things were advancing. It was about 3:30 AM when I phoned Kelly again. I remember being so concerned about interrupting her sleep and even thought to myself, 'what if I'm just not handling this well?'. She stayed on the phone with me through a couple of contractions and I tried SO hard not to let her hear how shaky my voice was, how intense the pain and how scared I was. These sensations were all too familiar from my previous miscarriages, but I wasn't ready yet to let Kelly really SEE me. She said it still sounded early, recommended getting in the tub and asked if I wanted her support in person. I said no when I meant yes, but boy oh boy do I struggle sometimes with asking for what I need.
I went upstairs and got myself into a warm bath, didn't stay in long, my mom wrapped me in a towel and I got on my bed. Alternating between hands and knees and sitting on my knees with my hands behind me leaning back into them worked for a while. Suddenly I had the urge to vomit and ran to the toilet aggressively throwing up while simultaneously releasing down below. (I didn't think I'd share this part, but let's throw modesty out the window from this point forward). I remember getting cleaned up and moving into my sisters room where I could be alone. I was making low pitched moaning sounds that helped me navigate each wave.
(Looking back I can't believe how vocal my labor and birth were. I always imagined I'd be super zenned out, blissed out, meditative and prayerful. Labor does something to a woman. There is no room for expectation or inhibition, insecurity or shame. Literally no space for that shit.)
By now my mother asked me several times to call Kelly and have her come, but I couldn't. I was too nervous to admit that I needed her. Finally my mom said she was making the call and when my mom reaches a certain point nothing stands in her way. Something I've come to love and admire.
At this point some of my labor becomes blurry.
I retreated to the bath tub. I had no concept of time, no idea whether it was still morning or maybe even afternoon by now. And I didn't care. All I knew was the enormity of what I was experiencing. I've never been more relieved in my life as I was when I heard Kelly's voice and a knock on the bathroom door. My first words to her upon entrance were this: 'I'm fucking dying'. And I meant it. At this point I gave zero shits about being SEEN. I was naked (I envisioned being in a cute bra and panties). I was raw. I was in it. It was happening to me and there was no way around it. Surrender was the only choice. ITS ALWAYS THE ONLY CHOICE.
Kelly is a miracle worker. Her presence alone is so powerful, so comforting, so encouraging and wildly empowering. Early on when she showed up - after getting out of the tub - she and I were on my bed. I was hyperventilating and dehydrated. She looked at me and she told me to breathe. Our eyes locked and I followed her breath. She said, 'Lauren, I know these sensations are familiar and scary, but you and your baby and safe and healthy and you have to breathe.' This was all I needed. She told me to send my breath down to my baby, that every contraction was progression and to work with my body to move my baby down. I would look into her eyes and gain the strength to surpass each contraction. Her eyes let you know that you can. Her eyes let me know that I could. Every time I doubted it - and she could see that doubt in my face - she brought me back to center. 'This isn't bigger than you,' she would say. It wasn't bigger than me. But I would have never known that if she weren't there allowing me to allow my body to do what it was designed to do.
By now Kristen and Amanda (Kelly's assistants) had come. Kristen would check Ruby's heart rate every so often during contractions. Each time I'd ask if she was okay. Each time she was.
We were all over the place. The shower, the tub, the bed, the side of the bed, different positions on the bed, the toilet. The flexibility to move around and try different things was everything. I made a comment to Kelly at one point that I was so happy we were at home and not in the hospital. A powerful moment for me to realize as early in the pregnancy I was uncertain about home birth because of my previous experiences. It took many weeks to gain the confidence that home was where I needed to be.
Since time doesn't exist in labor I can't recall when I realized it was August 7th and made the connection not only to my due date, but remembering that Kelly was to place her daughters ashes that day. I had no idea how long I had been in labor or how much headway we'd made, but I vividly remember sitting on the toilet with Kelly on a stool in front of me, my feet on her knees for leverage and looking at her with such seriousness asking if she was going to be with us when Ruby came. I'll never forget the look on Kelly's face when I asked her that question. Kelly has a way of dodging certain things in the most eloquent and poised way, but there was no way around my inquiry. I needed an answer. And I could tell it meant as much to her as it did to me. She simply said in a low voice, 'I don't know.' Well - that was that.
I was praying - making deals with God, I was screaming- shamelessly, unapologetically screaming, and it came time to start pushing. What I thought was going to be a quick one or two pushes ended up being nearly 2 hours of the most extreme, magnified, intense moments of my life. There were many times I didn't think I could continue, many times I doubted myself, many times I was ready to give up - but I didn't.
There were these magical moments when I would have a little longer between contractions that I would drift into something like a dreamworld. Half asleep, half aware. Coming to on the precipice of another contraction I would see Kelly, Kristen, Amanda, Eric and my mom. Everything would be so silent - just as I needed. Everything would be so still and so focused and so ready for the next climb. Everyone held the most perfect space for me to birth my baby. I'm grateful.
And then the time came. We were getting closer. I felt her hairy little head with my hand. She was coming. We were ready. I was ready. I had gone from timid and shy and unsure to a fierce lioness completely uninhibited. We were on my bed. Eric held one of my legs back. Kristen supported the other foot. Kelly was working with my body and my baby, Amanda was photographing and maybe Kristen too (I'm not really sure), my mom was praying and I was pushing. My goddess I was pushing and screaming and feeling everything in the most intense way.
And then Kelly's voice, 'Lauren, reach down for your daughter'. That moment. There has never been anything like it. Kelly's hands receiving my daughter, my hands on her body, her body on my chest, her voice being made known to this world. It was and is everything.
And like that she was here.
I've come to know that through birthing a child you give birth to yourself in an entirely new and different way. When a child is born so too is a mother. Stepping into this role has been a lifelong dream - one that I will treasure all the days of my life. 17 days in and I've already seen and felt the nectar and the unraveling. The sweetness and the challenge. And I'm so ready for it all.
The magnitude of labor and birth is incomparable. When I think of that day I couldn't imagine it moving in any other direction. It was perfect and beautiful and messy and so possible even in its near impossibility. I've never felt more powerful in my life. I love that each woman is born with the same equipment, yet each of our stories are so unique and they are all inherently connected. We are all inherently connected.
I pray that all women can experience the level of support, trust, love, care and commitment that we experienced in the presence of Kelly. She is the sweetest gift. And I have to believe that somehow, someway Ruby and Celeste are connected and Celeste was with us that day. That Sunday. Her due date. It was all happening on time. It's always happening on time.
With love,
Lauren and Ruby
