Willow Sage Lamkin
I cannot help but think of Willow’s arrival to this world as two very distinct events: one being the labor and the other the delivery.
Willow entered this world at her own time (at least two weeks late) and in her own manner. On March 15, I went to the doctor’s office to find, much to my surprise, that I was 5 cm dilated! I had had some warm up contractions the day before but did not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. I considered these 5 cm a gift!
Upon returning home from the doctor’s office around 2 pm, the contractions started to take on more substance but still bordered enjoyable. My mother, aunt and grandmother awaited eagerly with us at home while I relaxed, ate and enjoyed their company.
A few hours later, the intensity of the contractions increased, but they were easily manageable with some humming. With each surge, I pictured myself as an opening lotus flower, soon to be the passage through which my baby would travel. It was beautiful imagery for me. I used the image of the sleeping Hindu god Vishnu, from whose navel blooms a lotus. Upon this lotus sits Brahma, and from the breath of Brahma comes the world. I imagined myself as the sleeping Vishnu, and from my abdomen my child would emerge, sitting atop a blooming lotus, breathing the creation of her new world.
I soon became a bit restless and tried to relax in the tub. Surprisingly, this did not work for me. It dawned on me that, even though I had only labored a few hours, this could be “transition.” I wasn’t able to believe it since I was coherent and could actually verbalize my sentiments to Matt, but I told Matt to call the doctor anyway since this could be it.
I finally settled into a chair. My mom and aunt kept me company while Matt greeted the nurse and doctor. They examined me and, much to everyone’s amazement, I was fully dilated with a “bulging sac” of waters ready to be broken. Doctor Lo later told us that when he arrived at our house and saw how calm and coherent I was, he thought for sure we had called him too early!
He decided to break my waters to help relieve some of the pressure and to assist in moving labor along. The contractions picked up in intensity soon afterward and I found myself relying subconsciously on my yogic breathing, not allowing myself to get sucked into the intense core of the contractions. Dr. Lo told me to wait for the “uncontrollable urge” to push and that, soon afterwards, our little one would arrive. Unfortunately, the urge never came upon me. Dr. Lo checked the baby’s positioning, only to discover that her head was “flexed” and would not move down into the birth canal. I labored on in numerous positions trying to get her head to shift but this little one insisted on trying to look where she was going!
We tried pushing and, after five exhausting hours of it, Dr. Lo suggested a transfer to the hospital. At this point, I was exhausted. All I could think about was, had I had a standard 2 hours or so of pushing and birthed this baby, I would have had the birth of my dreams – an enviable labor and delivery in the comfort and privacy of my own home, surrounded by loved ones. But if birth teaches us one thing, it is that it is universally linked with death, as they coexist as one in the same. In my situation, the safe birth of my child meant the death of my homebirth ideal.
We transferred to the hospital (not an easy thing to do fully dilated after 5 hours of pushing!). Dr. Lo hoped that possibly the ride over, my movement and some more pushing at the hospital might bring the baby’s head down. We tried to no avail and the word “c-section” came to become a part of my birthing vocabulary.
We were all devastated but (as Matt refers to him) Dr./therapist/guru/angel Lo showed the utmost compassion and sincerity as he sat at my bedside, listening to me as I stated my fears in between sobs, assuring me we had tried everything and that it was ok for me to surrender to the decision. I had chosen Homefirst’s practice of doctors because I knew their commitment to natural birthing and I knew that I could trust their wisdom and judgments. Although I knew it was the right decision, I still struggled to withhold my consent but reluctantly agreed. I had been able to surrender to the ebbs and flows of pregnancy and labor, but letting go of the manner in which my baby would be delivered and the effect it would have on my body and my future births proved to be too difficult for me. I guess I will consider myself a work in progress!
So, without delving into the details of the delivery (I still need to process it myself), I will move on to welcome little Willow Sage Lamkin to this world. A willow tree has a strong trunk and is firmly rooted into the ground, yet it dances, moves and bends to the wind, providing nothing but beauty and wistfulness, welcoming others to relax in its shade and presence. Our little Willow beckons us in the same manner, to come and enjoy her company and marvel at her dance and free spirit. She’s a miracle.
I cannot help but think of Willow’s arrival to this world as two very distinct events: one being the labor and the other the delivery.
Willow entered this world at her own time (at least two weeks late) and in her own manner. On March 15, I went to the doctor’s office to find, much to my surprise, that I was 5 cm dilated! I had had some warm up contractions the day before but did not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. I considered these 5 cm a gift!
Upon returning home from the doctor’s office around 2 pm, the contractions started to take on more substance but still bordered enjoyable. My mother, aunt and grandmother awaited eagerly with us at home while I relaxed, ate and enjoyed their company.
A few hours later, the intensity of the contractions increased, but they were easily manageable with some humming. With each surge, I pictured myself as an opening lotus flower, soon to be the passage through which my baby would travel. It was beautiful imagery for me. I used the image of the sleeping Hindu god Vishnu, from whose navel blooms a lotus. Upon this lotus sits Brahma, and from the breath of Brahma comes the world. I imagined myself as the sleeping Vishnu, and from my abdomen my child would emerge, sitting atop a blooming lotus, breathing the creation of her new world.
I soon became a bit restless and tried to relax in the tub. Surprisingly, this did not work for me. It dawned on me that, even though I had only labored a few hours, this could be “transition.” I wasn’t able to believe it since I was coherent and could actually verbalize my sentiments to Matt, but I told Matt to call the doctor anyway since this could be it.
I finally settled into a chair. My mom and aunt kept me company while Matt greeted the nurse and doctor. They examined me and, much to everyone’s amazement, I was fully dilated with a “bulging sac” of waters ready to be broken. Doctor Lo later told us that when he arrived at our house and saw how calm and coherent I was, he thought for sure we had called him too early!
He decided to break my waters to help relieve some of the pressure and to assist in moving labor along. The contractions picked up in intensity soon afterward and I found myself relying subconsciously on my yogic breathing, not allowing myself to get sucked into the intense core of the contractions. Dr. Lo told me to wait for the “uncontrollable urge” to push and that, soon afterwards, our little one would arrive. Unfortunately, the urge never came upon me. Dr. Lo checked the baby’s positioning, only to discover that her head was “flexed” and would not move down into the birth canal. I labored on in numerous positions trying to get her head to shift but this little one insisted on trying to look where she was going!
We tried pushing and, after five exhausting hours of it, Dr. Lo suggested a transfer to the hospital. At this point, I was exhausted. All I could think about was, had I had a standard 2 hours or so of pushing and birthed this baby, I would have had the birth of my dreams – an enviable labor and delivery in the comfort and privacy of my own home, surrounded by loved ones. But if birth teaches us one thing, it is that it is universally linked with death, as they coexist as one in the same. In my situation, the safe birth of my child meant the death of my homebirth ideal.
We transferred to the hospital (not an easy thing to do fully dilated after 5 hours of pushing!). Dr. Lo hoped that possibly the ride over, my movement and some more pushing at the hospital might bring the baby’s head down. We tried to no avail and the word “c-section” came to become a part of my birthing vocabulary.
We were all devastated but (as Matt refers to him) Dr./therapist/guru/angel Lo showed the utmost compassion and sincerity as he sat at my bedside, listening to me as I stated my fears in between sobs, assuring me we had tried everything and that it was ok for me to surrender to the decision. I had chosen Homefirst’s practice of doctors because I knew their commitment to natural birthing and I knew that I could trust their wisdom and judgments. Although I knew it was the right decision, I still struggled to withhold my consent but reluctantly agreed. I had been able to surrender to the ebbs and flows of pregnancy and labor, but letting go of the manner in which my baby would be delivered and the effect it would have on my body and my future births proved to be too difficult for me. I guess I will consider myself a work in progress!
So, without delving into the details of the delivery (I still need to process it myself), I will move on to welcome little Willow Sage Lamkin to this world. A willow tree has a strong trunk and is firmly rooted into the ground, yet it dances, moves and bends to the wind, providing nothing but beauty and wistfulness, welcoming others to relax in its shade and presence. Our little Willow beckons us in the same manner, to come and enjoy her company and marvel at her dance and free spirit. She’s a miracle.
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