Vegan Birth Stories

Please read our collection of birth stories. If you'd like to submit your own, please submit your story here. Vegan or vegetarian birth stories are welcome.

Indigo's Birth Story

Indigo Quinn Crockett was born on June 17, 2003 at 9:37am at home near Gardner, CO. She weighed 7 pounds, 3 ounces and was 21 ľ inches. As long as she shows all the signs of being normal and healthy, my husband and I trust that there is no reason to treat her as if she might be abnormal or unhealthy. We believe that hospitals are for sick people, not pregnant women and babies. Many women have told me they think I am brave to have my baby at home, but I think they are brave to go to a hospital – to assume that nurses who spend every day giving people drugs will be able to resist the urge to insist she take drugs, to trust that a doctor who is trained to do surgery will be able to resist the urge to do surgery on her, to imagine that for thousands of years women helping other women give birth in their homes were wrong, unsafe, or ignorant? Sure, some women can’t give birth naturally, but those women are few and far between – much fewer than medical statistics would like us to believe. It is high time our society as a whole stops and reconsiders why cesarean rates are rising so dramatically, why are women scared of their bodies, why is it brave to perform a normal bodily function – a function that our bodies are perfectly designed for? I feel sorry for those disenchanted women who allow the medical system to use them and abuse them – they will never know what it feels like for their child to slip through their bones, limp and wet and warm… as I will never forget.

Sunday was Father’s Day. I was three days shy of the 40 week mark. It was pretty typical for a Sunday, our family and friends came over for a BBQ. We all sat out in the yard, enjoying the warm weather and good food (Lluvia made chile rellenos). Everyone went their separate ways that evening, leaving my husband, Zack and I the house to ourselves. Some time that night, around 3:00am I felt a distinct tightening in my belly. It was faint and I barely woke up to glance at the clock, and then fell back to sleep. Twenty minutes later, I was disturbed by another tightening. That time I sat up in bed, which woke up Zack who is a very light sleeper. I told him I thought I was having contractions, but I also thought it was false labor and to go back to sleep. The surges continued without increasing, but greatly disturbing my sleep. Finally, around sunrise, Zack decided to call Paula to let her know what was happening. She had been scheduled to work that day, and we wanted to catch her before she left home for the day.

We had asked Paula early on in the pregnancy to help us with the birth when it happened. She is a very dear and trusted friend; the only person I could imagine helping me through this sacred process. She had birthed six kids of her own at home, on top of being a nurse, and being in the middle of a midwifery certification program. She had guided us through the prenatal checkups; listening to the heart beat, measuring the height of the fundus, etc.

Early on in the pregnancy I had gotten my blood tests done with a Certified Professional Midwife, but had decided to take my care into my own hands. My pregnancy had been completely normal – so much so that none of us ever even felt the need to get an ultrasound. My husband and I both have attended births and studied midwifery in the past, plus we have a personal library of pregnancy and childbirth information to support our theories and strategies. I am very health conscious, and have no known history of birth related problems in my family. There was no cause for concern (probably many more pregnancies are similar to mine than the medical community will admit; they need us to need them). We were confident that between the three of us, any problems could be detected early. Like I believe most pregnancies to be, there were no problems.

As it turned out, Paula had taken Monday off in order to get some work done on her van, and she would be free by the afternoon to come down and check on my progression.

Throughout the day, the surges continued every 20 minutes or so, becoming slightly stronger, but in general progressing slowly. I took a long warm bath which was soothing, but not speeding anything up. Then Zack and I took a walk around our ranch. The walking definitely helped the surges get stronger. I had to stop and breathe into them more regularly, which is a sure sign of progressing labor. When we got back home, I lay down on the couch, and they started slowing down again. The effect of gravity was obvious, so I stood up as much as I could. This is an important point that I do not think many hospital personnel understand – gravity is one of the most important forces of nature at work during birth. Encouraging women to lie down on their backs during labor slows everything down; in fact the Lithotomy position (lying on the back with the feet up in stirrups) has been proven to increase the need for cesarean section!

Paula was also scheduled to work on Tuesday and she needed to figure out if she should get a substitute to work for her. I asked her to try to find someone – I wasn’t sure if I was going to have the baby within a day, but I wasn’t willing to chance not having her there.

We all ate dinner, although I had very little appetite and I went to bed to concentrate on the surges. I began to have some extreme lower back pain, and asked Zack to press hard and steady on the bottom of my spine. That pressure felt so relieving that I didn’t let him stop doing it until the baby was crowning.

Paula and Zack continued timing my contractions, and she checked my dilation early in the night. I wasn’t dilated very much as I remember, but the surges were slowly strengthening and requiring more concentrated breathing. I remember puking three times between 1 and 2am Tuesday. After that the labor was really happening.

It was all very passive, or I was very passive at least. We knew that what needed to happen would happen, so we didn’t worry too much about the time, or dilation. I think that was important in making this birth a gentle birth. Letting the events flow as they may, not putting any kind of stress energy into the event. I have witnessed that stress energy at a birth can multiply itself and just compound the situation. That is why I was insistent on having a quiet, calm atmosphere. I didn’t invite friends or family, although I knew their intentions were to be supportive. I created the ideal atmosphere for myself to be completely calm, relaxed and focused.

Paula came and went, leaving Zack and I alone to love each other and experience the labor together. I recall sitting cradled in Zack’s arms, my back against his chest. I felt prepared and protected, warmed by his love, assured that these phenomenally painful surges were productive. Everything began to flow, minute after minute; my consciousness was unaware of anything beyond him and me. I was only superficially aware of what was going on around me. To call it feeling “high” would be appropriate; however “ecstasy” is more accurate. I believe that at this point, I truly went into myself. I channeled my chi, and my entire focus was inside my womb.

We were all very exhausted and slept as much as possible between contractions, which were progressively getting closer. I remember that Paula had gone to the guest room, not far away, to try to rest some and on one contraction, I suddenly had the urge to push. I was thinking to myself “get Paula” and wanted to yell for her to come, but she heard the tell-tale pushing grunt and came running.

“Are you pushing!” she asked, “Why didn’t you get me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to say before the next surge swallowed me.

She instructed me to grunt from the belly, low and guttural, instead of squealing like I had done. This whole time, Zack was still pressing on my spine, supporting my head and helping me to sip water in between surges.

I remember feeling the great tidal wave of water rush out of me, and saying “water” rather blandly, but with all the energy I could muster. Within a second I could feel they both jumped on the job of cleaning up the mess from the embryonic fluid.

At some point, Paula checked my dilation again and said she could feel the baby’s head, but was having some trouble determining if her position was posterior or anterior (facing back “normal” or facing front “back labor”). They set up a pile of pillows and blankets for me to lean on while on my knees. So far I had been pushing while resting on my side and we all knew that I needed the help of gravity to really get things moving.

As soon as I was up on my knees, I could feel the baby bearing down on my bones. It seemed unbearable, but I harnessed the pain and visualized my bones opening up and her head passing through. Using these spontaneous visualizations was what guided the birth process. I needed no prior training…nor am I a person that meditates. It was what I needed to give birth, and so it was. I began to whisper inside my head “c’mon baby,” encouraging her to get moving down. This communication is yet another example of the power of a woman’s creative ability. I didn’t need to verbalize it, but the message traveled through our energy systems, and the baby knew I was ready – she was ready too.

I am not a superwoman. The pain was so extreme that I began to have thoughts that if I had been in a hospital, and a doctor offered me drugs I would have agreed to it no question. That is in spite of my very strong opinions about the futility and danger of using artificial methods of labor and birth. If that had been the case, with no doubt I would have been disappointed with the experience as a whole, as well as disappointed with myself. By the time that I was having those thoughts, I was just minutes away from holding my healthy, sober little girl; my daughter in my arms. What a blessing to have been at home!

Soon Paula announced that she could see the head; the baby was crowning. I could hear Zack weeping; he continued holding pressure on my back. She told me to reach down to touch my baby’s head, but I was using so much energy at that moment, I really thought she was crazy for thinking I could possibly do that.

I could feel the baby’s head pass limply through my bones. They both were anxiously encouraging me to keep pushing, so I held on to the urge and squeezed her out. I could totally feel her body pass through the birth canal. She felt limp, and wet and warm as she slid out into the world.

I was on my knees with my ass in the air, and the baby emerged in the typical position, with her head facing my back. Therefore her head was facing up and the surge of water that flowed out (after the giant plug of her head had emerged) flowed right over her face as she was trying to take her first breath – even before the rest of her body emerged. She was choking on her first breath. They were a bit panicky it seemed to me, but I felt that everything was just fine. I sat up on my shins, with total control of myself for the first time in many, many hours. Paula handed me my baby to hold as she suctioned fluid out of her airway with a bulb syringe. She instructed me to hold her with her head tipped down, and with Zack leaning over my shoulder, weeping with joy, I whispered to her, “c’mon little baby, breathe.” And she did.

Someone realized that they hadn’t checked the sex, so I peeked under the blanket she had been bundled up in and with great sobbing proclaimed her to be a girl (I had figured as much all along). Zack said he had glanced at the time when she was emerging, 9:37am. I was surprised to see that the sun had risen during the events. I could hear the farm equipment running out the window (they were cutting the season’s first hay harvest). I lied down on my back - for the first time in six months - and lay her on my chest. She was so amazing and beautiful – correction: the most amazing and beautiful thing ever to happen in my world. She was sucking on my breast within a few minutes. The only word I could possibly muster as I looked into my daughters eyes was “Wow.”

There is a place that I went to in those first few moments with my newly born daughter that probably only a mother knows. This place was outside my head, outside my body, total awareness of joy and love; it was purity and perfection incarnate. She lay on my chest and toyed with the idea of suckling on my breast – newborn babies do not need nutrition for the first couple days.

After a few minutes, the contractions came back – it was time to birth the placenta. Zack rewrapped her and held her, and I resumed the position on my knees. After a few contractions, the placenta was birthed, however not completely. Paula did the best she could coaxing the last strands out, however it wasn’t until the following day that every last bit was birthed, in the toilet.

We waited until the cord stopped throbbing, and Zack cut it. Here is another important detail that is often missed at the hospital. I myself have witnessed when a baby was born and the cord was immediately cut, before the placenta was even birthed. The baby immediately went into what I would call shock, and began turning blue. The hospital personnel gave the baby oxygen and she was briskly whisked away in a cart to the nursery, across the hall. The mother was left in a panic on the bed, naked and raped-looking, asking desperately, “where are they taking my baby?” After nine months of receiving oxygen through their blood, a baby needs to be able to transition slowly to breathing with her lungs. It is a complete change of bodily function, and should be respected as a right of life not to be taken lightly.

So my little girl was easily transitioned to breathing, and given the proper time to detach from her twin, her life giver, her placenta. We later buried the placenta on a hill on our land, in a sunny spot were the deer like to lay in the sun, and listen to the river flowing, feel the breeze on their face, and can see all around, safe, warm and bellies full – how I want my daughter to spend her life.

As it turned out, when she was coming out, the baby’s elbow had torn through a bit of the perineum. The tear was small, but to insure the best care, we drove an hour away to visit a midwife friend who had more experience with stitching, as well as all the right needles. Paula could have done it if necessary, but she was uncomfortable using the needles she had in her med bag. They were ok, but not the perfect ones…so we went to Maria’s house. We were lucky; Maria was waiting for a woman who was in labor to progress, so she had some time to see us before taking off for another birth. I felt so blessed lying on her bed with these two beautiful women ensuring that I receive the best care. I had heard the story of a woman who had birthed at home, and then needed to go to the emergency room for stitches, and was treated like a criminal. This woman did not receive the best care, and after having a beautiful, gentle, home birth, was abused by the medical system that exists to support her.

Quinn’s birth was wonderful. She is so blessed to have such a gentle beginning. I can’t guarantee that it will make her life any easier, but I wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way. I had the best care-givers imaginable. They were attentive, loving, knowledgeable and flexible. They were right there with me every step of the way – able to predict what I needed, and prepared to give to me and support me by any means necessary. And when we were in the heart of the game, barely a word was spoken; the four of us flowed – mom, dad, midwife and baby – like a pure mountain stream. I hope more births can be like Quinn’s.

Sponsors:

Got Recipes? We Want Them!
Submit yours today to win a prize!