Arabelle: another accidental freebirth story

Saturday morning, 6:30am.

Sliced strawberries fan out and prosciutto rolls lay delicately on the bamboo charcuterie board I’ve been arranging for the last hour. I kind of feel like I need to go to the bathroom. Well, better now than when I’m pushing a baby out, I shrug, and head down the hall. No sooner than I sit down do I realize that this pressure is hard, and round, and…baby shaped. Hmm. That is not what I thought was happening here. Just half an hour ago I told the midwife to make her way over slowly!

Ah, dang.

I’m freebirthing this baby again.

While this might have been the beginning of the end, this was far from the beginning.

Sometime in July I stood in the park with my best friends on a very hot Wednesday morning and told them that I felt really strange. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, I just felt something was different.

The jammed middle fingers told me what that something was. I only wake up arbitrarily in the morning with the feeling of jammed fingers for one reason–it’s my body’s earliest, and most random, pregnancy symptom. My best friend gave me a bunch of extra pregnancy tests and I stared at that test, willing there to only be one line.

At two and a half years of age, the twins had finally settled into a phase we could manage. Everyone slept through the night and we could see the light at the end of the diapering tunnel. Also, my husband, due to my hard pregnancies, had adamantly cut me off from having more babies, and with five little ones underfoot, I understood.

The control line showed faintly and slowly darkened as the test began to read results.

Please be negative, I willed it. I’m not ready to do this again. I don’t want to do this again.

But that second pink line appeared ever so faintly, and the door to wanting more babies that I had shut in my heart exploded back open with a force.

I wanted this baby desperately.

The story starts far before this point, actually.

From the time my oldest daughter learned to pray, she began asking God for a sister. She prayed and prayed and prayed. For years, she prayed. We considered a sixth baby, but what if she ended up with five brothers? Adoption also weighed heavily on our hearts, and we begun to start the process. Still, the question remained–what if God gave us a boy? How could we be sensitive to a matter so precious to our daughter when that last thing we wanted to do was choose a child based on their gender? We didn’t have a better plan than to pray God gave us a girl when a child was placed with us.

Oh, but our daughter had been praying too, and that girl prays powerful prayers.

My heart caught in my throat at the sight of that second pink line, and all the willing for it not to be so disappeared instantly. This is what I wanted.

As soon as I told my husband, he knew another baby is what he wanted too. I had been hesitant, but he hadn’t felt a moment of doubt. We all wanted this.

My midwife from the twins’ birth, Emily (@Ohio Midwife), held a spot for us as I debated whether or not I wanted to freebirth (birth with no medical professional present). We had already accidentally freebirthed the twins and after having five babies, I felt confident, plus a midwife wasn’t exactly in our budget. Still, we absolutely loved Emily–that was one of our favorite things about my pregnancy with the twins! We went back and forth and then one day someone handed me a card containing $2000. Their generosity allowed us to hire Emily with confidence. Thank you. I hope you know how much you blessed us.

Fairly quickly, the symptoms pointed towards a girl. They say being pregnant with a girl sucks the beauty out of you which you should never, ever say to anyone, but they don’t entirely say it for no reason. Pregnancy glow? Nuh-uh, I had none of that. I felt exceptionally tired. My hair started falling out and my skin was a mess.

We found out the gender at 12 weeks and until that point I had consistent conversations with our daughter–you understand that you might have a brother, right? A baby boy would be wonderful too! We will be so happy about a brother or a sister.

No, Mom, she assured me. I’ve been praying for a sister. God will give me a sister.

And she was right. God gave her a sister.

My pregnancy, unsurprisingly, left me entirely enervated. The sickness and exhaustion debilitated me for the first half, and nerve damage in my leg from a motorcycle accident as a teenager debilitated me for the second half. But it was okay–eventually, we made it to the final month.

Then the real waiting began. After a 34 minute labor with the twins, I needed to prepare to give birth literally at any time, but I also needed to prepare mentally to possibly be pregnant for weeks more. Will I have a baby before the clock strikes midnight? Will I be pregnant until Jesus comes back? No one knew.

When the contractions started around 38 and a half weeks, I knew we’d have a few more days of prodromal labor. Four days passed, then five, then six. A week passed. Then 10 days.

I have these mental blocks–I won’t go into labor until my kids are in bed or down for a nap. If I’m looking forward to something, I’ll wait until that thing happens before I go into labor. These mental blocks serve an important purpose because if I went into labor at the grocery store with my five kids, my history of quick labors could lead to a clean up on aisle 9.

I knew I had mental blocks and prepared to go into labor as soon as those blocks were gone. The blocks came, the blocks went, and the baby stayed comfy inside me. Try as we might to hold it at bay, the impatience set in. My husband had to go back to work on Monday, our kids were emotionally breaking down waiting for their sister, and I really just wanted to lean over without being hindered by the watermelon in my belly.

On Friday morning I woke up nauseous. This was a sign of early labor, hallelujah! Then I started throwing up, another sign of labor. The contractions were coming often but irregularly. I threw up again, and again, and again. At this point we all started wondering if I had a stomach bug, because usually a mother will throw up once or twice during transition, not over and over again during early labor. The contractions continued but I wasn’t in active labor. I was, however, miserable. What an excellent reminder of how I don’t want to be pregnant again!

Then, as quickly as it began, it was gone. Definitely labor related–it was just a matter of time! We headed to Ikea to distract us, plus we figured all the walking would help. The contractions continued and I felt confident active labor would begin as soon as we reached either nap time or bed time.

Nap time came and went, the contractions persisted.

We put the kids to bed and settled down in preparation to have a baby.

And the contractions immediately stopped.

Are you kidding me?!?

I had a good cry, and then together my midwife and I devised a plan. Wake up at midnight, take a tbsp of castor oil with twice as much peanut butter and an apple, go back to sleep and wait for active labor to do it’s thing.

Have you ever tried to force down a quarter cup of peanut butter at midnight? I highly don’t recommend it, but our time was limited before Richard had to be at work on Monday and once he was at work he couldn’t come home unless I was in active labor…and my active labors are extremely quick and he works 35 minutes from our house. Baby girl needed to make her appearance post haste.

Saturday morning, 2:00am – The first contraction woke me up. Mild, but definitely a real labor contraction. It came and went without fanfare and I fell back asleep immediately.

4:35am – I texted my two best friends, Ashley and Audrey, who would be supporting us during labor to let them know contractions were moderately intense and every 30 minutes apart with lots of cramping in between. At this point, baby was posterior so I was expecting the consistent back ache. Not active labor, but moving that way.

4:45am – Finally, I gave up trying to sleep and got up to see if walking around would help labor pick up. I turned on my worship playlist and the string lights. I set up the birth kit, a change of clothes, and things for the baby. For a magical half hour, it was just me and Jesus and my baby.

5:00am – I tried to wake up Richard but he was unresponsive. Do you need more sleep? I whispered, and he mumbled yes and rolled back over. I was happy to let him sleep, although he clearly hadn’t processed why I had woken him up or he would have vaulted out of bed. Ashley couldn’t sleep so we decided she should head over. After being up and about, contractions were every 10 minutes apart but the strength was inconsistent. No intense pain, but my back was definitely achy, as expected with a posterior baby.

5:15am- A knock, and Ashley quietly opened the screen door as to not disturb everyone else sleeping upstairs. We sliced strawberries and fancy cheese and arranged pickles and salami and caramels on a charcuterie board–it is, after all, always a great time for charcuterie. I didn’t want to call anyone else because I still didn’t feel like I was in established labor even though my contractions were every few minutes and lasting a minute because I knew that once people starting arriving, everything could slow down.

5:45am- I call Emily, my midwife, to tell her to slowly start making her way. We agreed she would wait for her assistant to arrive at her house instead of her driving straight over. She lives 40 minutes away but posterior babies tend to make their way earthside a little more slowly and baby wasn’t so low she was about to fall out like the twins were, plus I was still concerned that if my midwives showed up too early labor might slow down. Contractions came and went during our call and I could hold a conversation like nothing was happening. I was walking and talking and laughing normally–they say when contractions start to take your attention instead of just getting it, labor is here. I felt fine. Surely, I had enough time.

6:00am- Hmm, I am definitely in active labor. Contractions still felt fine but as intensity and frequency built, it was clear things had started moving.

6:18am- Audrey arrived and as she stepped through the door, the first contraction that took my attention hit. I called Emily back and told her that she needed to come quickly. It was time to wake Richard, and the four of us prepped and laughed and waited in the kitchen, bathed in the glowing string lights.

6:30am- I felt like I had to go to the bathroom, but as soon as I sat down on the toilet I realized the pressure felt, in fact, large and round, suspiciously similar to a baby’s head.

6:31am- Oh, poop. Simultaneously, not poop; it was a baby. I call my friend Gaby, a doula who mercifully lives only five minutes away, and tell her to get here fast. Ashley and Audrey head upstairs to wake the five older kids. I guess the bathroom is where we are going, as there are no wool and silk rugs to ruin. We move bath mats, lay chux pads, and I actually remember to take off my shorts more than a couple seconds in advance this time. Instinctively I move to the exact same location I ejected the twins and get on my hands and knees, which, if you recall the twin’s birth story at all, is my body’s way of telling me I am about to have this baby right now.

6:40am- Another contraction hits, and I look up in the glow of the string lights and see my village. Five small shining faces peak in through the bathroom door, sleepy and disheveled and beaming. I leaned against Richard, burying my face his shirt, clutching his hands for support. Gaby sat behind me providing the most relieving counter pressure, Audrey sat with the kids, and I didn’t see Ashley because as it turns out, she was standing above me on the toilet video taping the entire thing.

I’m not one of those quiet, softspoken women in day to day life, and I am also not in labor. I don’t breathe my babies down, I holler them down, and holler I did. I am unapologetic about this fact. I did not know why until after she was born, but getting her out hurt like the dickens and hollering my way through it helped. I felt totally in control, my voice just helped relieve some of the pressure I felt as my baby made her way earthside.

About three minutes before she was born, I distinctly remember yelling, why isn’t she coming? The last five or six minutes were one incredibly long contraction that just would not stop. Come on, where was my break between contractions?!

Baby’s hand emerged alongside her only partially rotated head. Ahh, the good ol’ nuchal hand. It explained the never ending contraction and the hurting-like-the-dickens.

Deep and down, Gaby recited over and over. She’s getting closer, she’s getting closer. You’re doing great, she’s right there, she’s so beautiful.

6:51am- Gaby told me to reach down and I couldn’t. Richard was properly trapped beneath me and I was not letting him go so Gaby caught baby and tried to help me pick her up. I reached for her and stopped. I just needed a minute. It’s called the birth pause–sometimes immediately after baby is born, mothers need a few seconds or even moments before they come out of labor land and are ready to actively engage with their baby.

I felt this, and it was a moment or two before I was ready to pick up my baby. Immediately, I turned her over to confirm she was, in fact, a girl. We made sure to note time of birth and then Audrey and Ashley took the kids to get them breakfast while Gaby, Richard, and I waited for the placenta and the midwife, who was still about 20 minutes away.

We noticed a true knot in the extremely long umbilical cord, and a ridiculous amount of Wharton’s Jelly, the jelly like substance inside the umbilical cord–surely God’s design to keep the true knot slippery and to stop it from tightening, which would have cut off baby’s oxygen and blood supply. The knot slid freely back and forth along the cord, without friction or tightening. Imagine the gymnastics this sweet babe must have done to tie her cord in a true knot.

7:00am- Another contraction came and the placenta was born easily. Liquid started to trickle down my leg and then I felt it gushing–lots of it. It was blood, a lot of blood. Enough for me to know I needed to save the chux pads because Emily would want to see them. Gaby reassuringly told me everything was fine and I didn’t worry about it again.

I didn’t know until later that I had severely hemorrhaged, losing about 1,225cc of blood, which is a quarter of what a normal adult has in their body, although pregnant women typically have 30-50% more. This was likely a result of a low lying placenta. After giving birth, a woman’s uterus contracts–these contractions of the blood vessels are what stop bleeding. The top of the uterus contracts tightly while the bottom remains floppy and loose, so if your placenta is low then the wound it detaches from is low, meaning your uterus can’t contract tightly around the wound and stop the bleeding.

Despite the severe hemorrhaging, I felt completely fine apart from getting dizzy in the shower. Hemorrhaging can be a medical emergency but it can also be managed with care and knowledge at home. Don’t let clots develop inside you, empty your bladder often, move like an old lady with a broken hip at an ice skating rink, supplement chlorophyll and iron and red meat. Midwives can administer Pitocin or there are herbs you can take but Emily recommended a tablet that would help stop the bleeding.

7:10am- Emily and her assistant arrived and I moved to the couch. Baby began nursing immediately, and all was well. Alia, my sweet girl who had prayed for a sister her entire life, got to hold her newest obsession for the first time. The answer to her prayers. I don’t know why my eyes keep getting wet, Alia told me. I’m just so happy.

One by one, the kids trickled in to take turns holding their new baby sister. The twins had been practicing nurturing their stuffed animals and they held her so carefully, their eyes filled with pride. Sweetie Bear, I love you, Gideon will whisper to his stuffed bear, snuggling it close and giving it a kiss before chucking it down the stairs. Mercifully, he’s a little less impulsive with his baby sister, who is hot commodity over here now. Everyone wants to love on her, and I often have to fight my kids to get her back.

Strangely, everyone was more interested in my fresh new baby than me. In the moment, I didn’t think much of it, but in hindsight I realize I was disassociating after another precipitous labor. I was expecting an extremely fast labor with the twins so I didn’t have any issues processing the speed of their birth, but I had spent a decent amount of type hyping myself up for a longer labor with my singleton, and I think the speed in which it happened threw me off. I hadn’t really processed that my baby had been born. She was here, waiting for me to mentally catch up. It’s not like I didn’t care, I just wasn’t quite enamored.

That didn’t last long.

Within a few hours, I was absolutely, positively smitten.

Her tiny feet, the way her hand curled tight around my finger, the soft rise and fall of her chest, her fuzzy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She was perfect. The tiny girl we had been patient so long for.

Arabelle Patience Brake.
Born on her due date. 7lbs 12oz, 20.5 inches

Arabelle means answered prayers in Latin, and beautiful in French and Hebrew. Patience, an ode to our journey, a testament to her sister’s years of faithful prayers.

Seven weeks with her has passed in a flash, and every moment of the snuggles and sleepy smiles and scrunchy stretches has been precious. I’d do this a million times if I didn’t have to be pregnant and if that didn’t mean I would end up with a million toddlers. A half dozen will do, at least until we adopt.

If you told me at 14 that I’d end up with a half dozen children with my then-boyfriend (although not technically, as we weren’t allowed to date until we were 16), I probably would have believed you…but my now-husband would have thought he was insane. Are we insane? A little bit. Part of it is in our blood and part of it is because of our lovely, super calm and chill children.

So, they may not be calm… but they are full of joy and life and passion.

I couldn’t imagine our lives any other way.

Welcome to our wild little corner of the world, Arabelle. We’re really glad you’re here.