Whoa. Birth.

I am inspired tonight to write about this thing called birth...

Perhaps I will start with a little synopsis of Adah's birth story (apologies to those of you who have heard the whole shebang already). When I was pregnant, I read several birthing books, Paul and I took the classes, I asked everyone and their sister to share their birth stories with me, and I wondered in intrepidation what this little babe's story would be. There is really nothing more daunting than learning about this enormous plethora of "what ifs" without any idea of what your specific story will be. When people asked if I had a birth plan, I would say "to have a healthy baby." I knew that I hoped for a natural birth, but if not natural I at least hoped to avoid a c-section. I also know that I am pretty pathetic about not setting expectations and then being thoroughly upset when those expectations are not met, so I tried to avoid images of "the perfect birth" in order to avoid disappointment later on. But I did have a birth plan, and I did have expectations, whether I would admit it or not (pretty much the story of how I operate...). Natural birth made inherent sense to my dance therapy self, always reminding myself and others to listen to the cues of their body.

I went into labor three weeks and one day before Adah's due date, and assuming that I was simply experiencing increasing pelvic pressure (more intense in 5 minute increments, duh), by the time I went to my clinic I was 5 centimeters dilated. Oops. They sent me to the hospital in an ambulance, not sure how fast I was moving, where Paul and my dear friend-doula Betsy met me in a surprised panic. From there, things slowed down and I wasn't experiencing contractions often and strong enough, so around 7 p.m. I started on a small amount of pitocin. And I cried, remembering all that I read and certain that pitocin was my highway to an epidural. But it wasn't. Two hours and plenty of loud screams and profanity later (no silent birth for you, sorry child), I was ready to push, and one very long hour of pushing after that, the doctor allowed me to pull Adah onto my chest myself, which was possibly the coolest moment ever. And there you be. We had our Adah Sophia.

And now, like every other new mother I know, I have a slight obsession with birth stories. Birth is truly a real life, every day miracle and I love hearing about the strength of amazing women as they usher new life into this world, whatever course their birth takes. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm proud - that there's a part of me that feels like a total badass because I had my little girl without pain meds, because I felt every moment of her birth, and because it hurt like hell and I made it anyway.

So, I was beyond stoked when the December issue of Sojourners showed up in our mailbox yesterday, with a cover story on The Politics of Birth. Favorite magazine and new favorite subject meet, yahoo! In a world where my granola hippie mama self works constantly to integrate with my Christ follower married to a man who works for a church self, this was totally amazing.

And now that I've read the articles (yes, there is a whole spread, not just one article!), I can say that I'm still pleased. But there are a few pieces I'd like to extrapolate on a bit, some reactions and thoughts and general musings...

First, a pet peeve. In many ways, the article was implicitly reinforcing the notion that in order to have a natural and/or spiritual birth, one must have a home birth. This assumption definitely exists - one cannot work within the medical model, and must be totally outside of it, no grey area, in order to have the natural, drug-free birth they hope for. Well, I disagree. I chose a hospital birth. Home births scare the crap out of me. If you want to have one, boy do I respect your choice and more power to you. But I am an anxious person who likes to keep my house obsessively clean and I want to know that should I need immediately medical intervention, it is down the hall. And having a hospital birth did not mean that I was doomed for a c-section, especially because I was clear with the doctors in my practice about what I hoped for in the birth experience. Granted, Madison is Madison and the hospitals here have birthing balls and tubs, but my doctor was amazing and respected all of my wishes while involving both Paul and me in every step. I didn't ever feel blindsided by the medical machine. So it's possible. And it's not fair to assume that someone who wants a hospital birth is ordering their epidural on the car ride in.

Second, I was so very interested in the comments around the socioeconomic implications of the natural birth movement. The author notes that the trend is growing primarily among the white upper middle class. Take one quick peek into our mom and baby group and you'll see the obvious truth to this statement. As the author wrote, "the birth movement must expand its political agenda to ensure that every woman's birth story and tradition is honored, and that every baby has the best start possible."

But if we're thinking on a global level, the birth movement is yet another example of how our "modernization" is in many ways stifling us and ironically setting us back here in the U.S. As we try to "undo" and return to less invasive birth models, women in third world countries know nothing other than natural birth models. I thought of those women in moments of pain, as well as the pioneer women who delivered not only without drugs, but alone with husbands plowing fields. I thought of this so very much as Paul and I watched the charming documentary Babies, where this ironic dichotomy was so very clear. In one scene, the baby in San Francisco is singing "The Earth is Our Mother" in a sterile, carpeted room in a San Francisco office building, and then the scene changes over to the baby in Africa, playing in the dirt and water and literally living what it means to know the earth as his mother. I feel this image in many ways depicts the current politics of birth - we're striving to return to that which just naturally "was" before we tried to make everything "easier" and "better" with our systems and interventions.

Lastly, I so appreciated author Susan Windley-Daousts thoughts on the parallels between natural births and Christianity, specifically the need to be in relationship (and rely on those relationships to thrive, instead of on things), and the order from the gospels to "be not afraid." She writes of this, "but oh, the temptation to fear. Fear, I am convinced, is the psychological root of all sin; we make so many decisions for ill in the name of being afraid - of what my friends will say, of how that country will react, of the unknown future, of speaking out. While having a painful childbirth is not sinful (there is a certain amount of luck here, involving baby positions and more), any childbirth is a wonderful gift to practice letting go and trusting God." (Can I get an amen?!?)

These are my random musings on birth. Please don't read them as judgments, because I believe we all have our own paths and stories and there are loved children who come from all types of birth stories and are thriving just the same. But I do find it interesting, to say the least, to consider. And I'm so glad that Sojourners has chosen to bring this subject to light in their magazine, another wonderful example of how indeed we can build bridges between our bodily and spiritual experiences.