Honoring Prodromal Labor.

On December 16, 1999, my second daughter, Chloe Emma Wright, was born at home after ten days of prodromal labor. It was such an incredible experience.

I was able to give birth unmedicated, which was vastly different than the birth of our first daughter, Amelia Clare. Her entry into the conscious world was not "timely" enough for our midwifery practice and was rushed along with pitocin. This resulted in an epidural, stadol, electronic fetal monitoring, and a second-degree perineal tear from a supine birthing position.

Not only have these experiences benefited me as a mother, but they have given me great respect for a woman's body and power as a labor assistant. Because of them I have been given an opportunity to help others.

Amelia's birth, although a loving experience, was not what we had planned and was what prompted me to become a labor assistant. I wanted to help women through childbirth so that they would not feel as I had--afraid of their bodies and what was happening to them. It infuriated me that women had to feel "alone" during labor.

About a year after Amelia's birth I attended the ALACE workshop in New York City and began attending births. It is amazing what those workshops can do to a person. I found out about three weeks after the workshop that we were expecting another baby. I vowed this time would be different. I became a very active consumer, interviewing several practices and finally decided on a homebirth.

We found a midwife, Cara, with whom we felt we connected, and arranged for her to attend the birth. Additionally, we had two of my dear friends, Rachel and Julia--who happened to be labor assistants--ready and waiting for December to roll around.

Well, December finally arrived and, with it, very strong Braxton-Hicks contractions. This was very exciting for me as I knew the time was near. With each day more and more signs that labor was imminent appeared. I had lost my mucous plug and was having bloody show. Contractions were stronger and longer each day.

As the days progressed, we prepared for the holidays, experienced more symptoms of labor, and got more anxious and more frustrated that "nothing was happening." The contractions were painful and anywhere from four to seven minutes apart. They would only occur at night and dissipate with the rising of the sun and my 22-month-old daughter. It was difficult to sleep through them and I was getting more exhausted with every day that passed. Each evening at around 10 PM was the here-we-go-again-maybe-this-is-really-it routine. After a few days of this, I decided that the baby wasn't ever coming.

There was always a question of whether or not my husband should go to work the following day. Each morning by 9:30 the contractions would end. This went on for five days or more. Four days before Chloe's birth, we experienced 30 hours of labor that dilated my cervix to three centimeters. A good dose of vodka finally knocked out the contractions to a certain degree. My midwife went home. My grumbling turned to giggling as the vodka kicked in and Rachel departed with sage advice, "Get in bed you drunken, old wretch." Naturally, this provoked more giggling on everyone's part.

We also brought Amelia back from her friend's house, filled with guilt that we had no baby to show her. We were all getting frustrated and I shed many tears over the fact that my body was "failing" me again. At one point I called my midwife and wanted to go to the hospital and "get it over with." Thankfully, she is a wise woman and she gave me a good dose of reality: The baby was fine. I was fine. There was no reason to rush anything. If I went to the hospital for a reason like this could I live with that after the fact? Anyone else would have admitted me that day and told me I'd been through enough and I "deserved" my epidural and pitocin.

My doulas called each day to see how I was feeling and offer words of encouragement. I received many phone calls from members of Metropolitan Doula Group, to which I belong, all offering good wishes and support for this thing we were doing.

No one asked the ever annoying "any baby yet?" question. No one suggested any methods of hurrying things along and controlling or managing my labor. Everyone gave me the gift of encouragement and reassuring reminders that this, while tedious, was normal. They all showed great respect for the process of birth and the power of a woman's body. They all knew how important it was for me to just give birth.

After a few more days of the nocturnal labor, things really began happening. I happened to have a prenatal appointment that day so Cara just checked in and came back later in the day. Rachel and Julia arrived and the two of them were marvelous. I felt so supported and safe as they massaged my back and pulled my wet hair back off my face. My husband was at my side the entire time and with each contraction we locked eyes and went someplace else.

With each contraction I cried. Rachel said, "You're just going to weep this baby out." The tears were not of pain, but of joy and gratitude that I had such caring and loving spirits to help me and welcome my baby, and a certain amount of disbelief that my body was doing its job and doing it well.

At six centimeters I asked my midwife to break my waters. She reluctantly did so and labor got fierce. Two hours later as I leaned over the birth ball on top of my bed Chloe was born after a pushing stage that lasted all of two contractions. I had the smallest of tears despite the fact she entered the world "thinking" with her hand up on her face. She was eight pounds, three ounces--a half pound bigger than Amelia. She nursed immediately and we all rejoiced.

After everyone went home we sat in front of the Christmas tree, ate cake, and made phone calls to tell family about our new addition. It was all we dreamed it would be.

How lucky I am that I had the support around me that is necessary for honoring prodromal labor. How terrible and wrong it is that most women simply "time out" based on arbitrary limits--that is taking away their soul. My experience was empowering beyond belief. I have newfound respect for my body and a sense of awe for the mysteries of the birth process. I am connected with the lineage of women who are warriors and nurturers. It is my goal as a labor assistant to help more women feel fids way--important, strong, proud, and powerful. Prodromal labor is a not uncommon test of wills, a lesson in how little control we have over nature, and an opportunity to prove to those who set limits that far more valuable than pitocin is time, respect, and honor.

--Erin Wright is a labor assistant currently working on her certification with ALACE, as well as a childbirth educator and reiki practitioner. She lives in Cold Spring, New York with her husband John, and her joy babies, daughters Amelia, 2, and Chloe, 5 months.