The Lesson of a Bodhisattva: Part One

Giving birth to Bodhi was a HUGE lesson in Buddhism without a doubt.  After a tremendously busy day where I had more energy than a room full of monkeys on speed, my water broke with two mighty gushes around midnight.  I stood for a few moments in the giant puddle, not moving, in complete denial. Then I felt a wave of anxiety and got a little light headed as the realization washed over me that OH SHIT, THIS WAS REALLY HAPPENING! 

I woke up Jimmy to show him my lovely puddle and after getting the ok from our doula and midwife, I lay down in bed, naively thinking I could get at least a couple of hours in before contractions started. 20 minutes later, I started feeling a radiating band of pressure across my lower back on par with first day’s menstrual cramps every few minutes.  I tried to ignore them and focus on getting to sleep, but who were we kidding? Even if the contractions hadn’t started, my mind was racing like crazy with thoughts of what the next few hours would bring! 

I tossed and turned until about 3:00 a.m. when the pain was an intensity that was more than uncomfortable. I woke Jimmy up again (how could he be SLEEPING at a time like this?) and asked him to time the pain.  3 minutes apart.  Hmmm….That couldn’t be right.  We thought we’d have hours and hours to hang out and labor in the comfort of our home, play some games, cook some food, etc. But, things were happening quickly and the pains were getting mighty intense.  So, we called the midwife and doula again and they said, “3 minutes apart?  Better head on out.”

It was pitch black and the roads were so clear and quiet at 4 a.m.  I felt nervous, but excited too, like how I feel when I leave for the airport early in the morning for a trip, but this time the excitement was mixed with a lot of anxiety and a healthy dose of fear.  The whole ride there, I moaned quiet “oooohhhhhs” with each radiating band of pain.  So far I was feeling them almost entirely in my back, not my abdomen.

Upon arriving, the birthing room was MAGNIFICENT!  And I was just so thankful we had a room, period.  (We’d heard more than our share of “no room at the inn” stories). Our room felt like a fancy hotel with a huge bed and big ol’ Jacuzzi hot tub.  I didn’t feel like a patient, but like I was away at a posh hotel for a weekend, granted, a hotel which I was going to bring a human being into the world in, but a hotel nonetheless.

Sharon, my doula (bless her!) met us around 4:00 a.m. when we arrived and immediately I felt at ease, any anxiety melting away.  With her and Jimmy there, I felt ready to DO THIS!  I began using the birthing ball (sitting on it, leaning on it, moaning on it).   The contractions were steadily becoming more painful, still almost entirely across my back.  As I moaned and rocked my hips, we watched the sun rise. Everything was very quiet and I could feel us creating a sacred space, just like I had wanted.  Even though I was tired, I was feeling pretty good overall, like I could handle this.  The contractions definitely were hurting a lot but I was able to moan through them and lean into them.   We ordered breakfast and Jimmy put on my first labor mix CD – a relaxing one that really set the atmosphere and clicked something in my brain that said, Here we go!

Around 8 a.m. my best friend Emily arrived – the third and final member of my wonderful birth team.  The contractions were starting to become really intense by now, so I started using the TENS unit (a sticky patch you put on your skin that sends little electric volts) which helps counteract pain.  At this point, my yoga really kicked in and I began evolving my general “Oohs” and “Aaahs” into chants. 

I started with “Lokaah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu.”  May the world be filled with peace and joy, love and light, may my positive actions affect the positive actions of others.  This was perfect at this stage of labor, because of its meaning and also because it had a lot of vowels (At our first meeting, Sharon had said, “The more you open your mouth, the more you open your hooey.”)  This statement, of course, was the deciding factor in me hiring her. I focused on filling the room with that peace and joy and light and a natural and mindful labor process that would influence the baby to come out in the same way.

Around 11 a.m. or so, the midwife showed up.  A different midwife had checked us in, one I liked.  But shifts had changed and when this midwife walked in the room, I was really disappointed.  I adored six of the seven midwives in the practice, but there was one (there’s always one, isn’t there?) who had made me cry the whole way home after our appointment.  She had been condescending, rude, and really rough with her physical examination. I was really worked up about it, but figured what were the chances that I’d get her?  One in seven? No reason to worry.

But here she was and I immediately thought, God certainly has a sense of humor.  I wondered if there must be some reason for her of all people to be the one on call, but I couldn’t spend much time thinking about it because another contraction hit and I realized quickly that this was no joke – it was much sharper than all the ones before.

My doula asked the midwife (we’ll call her Liz) to check me.  They had me lay on the bed, which was a super uncomfortable position at this point and then I felt a raw, ripping sharp pain inside me as Liz did the examination, causing me to scream out in pain.  It felt like she had punched through to my spleen.  With no reaction, she uttered plainly, “6 or 7 cm.”   I caught my breath and said, “No shit?!?”  Emily, Sharon and Jimmy all laughed.  I was surprised I was that far along.  I had said ahead of time I didn’t want to get attached to numbers, especially if they were still low – I didn’t want to get psyched out as I heard many women do.  But a 6 or 7?  Rock on!  I was on my way!

They started filling the tub, since I was “water worthy” according to Sharon.  It took about 45 minutes for the large tub to fill so while we waited, I labored more on the ball and then some with me standing and leaning against Jimmy in what we called “Junior High Dance” position.  My CD continued playing and one of our favorite songs came on and both Jimmy and I started tearing up.  I just felt so much love, so much beauty, so grateful to be with him and that he was with me so fully and completely during all of this.  I sank into him, feeling more love for him than ever.

Eventually the tub was filled and just in time as the contractions were getting REALLY freaking painful.  They were longer, sharper and right on the edge of being unbearable. As Jimmy and Emily helped me into the tub, I sank down into the warm water, submerging and feeling the sweet relief of the heated water enveloping my body.  Ahhhhhhh!  It felt SO good, such healing relief.

Jimmy had set up all our focal points, our icons, along the back of the tub – we had a wooden Ganesh (to remove obstacles), a beautiful wooden Jesus crucifix with huge hands, an African Madonna and child, a Kwan Yin, a beautiful and calming picture of my grandmother when she was young, a rosary from my trip to Rome and mala beads (made from Bodhi tree seeds!) from my trip to India.   Jimmy had lined these with our little battery operated candles and I have to say, with the dim lights and water and candles, it was a gorgeous display and really set the atmosphere.  It was everything I had envisioned.  Even in the immense pain, I was really grateful to have things happening the way they were. 

Sharon kept saying how “textbook” my labor was and how everything was going so great.  I felt so encouraged!  Then, Liz, the midwife, brought in another person – a midwife in training.  I had met her once before at one of the appointments, but I had specifically stated in my typed birth plan that I wanted no interns, students, assistants, or family members – only Jimmy, Emily, the doula, a nurse and the midwife – I didn’t want an audience or any extra people.  I wanted an intimate and quiet environment.  I thought about saying something immediately and was annoyed that Liz hadn’t paid attention to this very first thing on my birth plan, but the contractions were getting so intense and Nancy (the trainee) had already started spraying my back with the hot water hose hooked to the tub and I was in too much pain to protest.

The midwife and doula had me do a bunch of different positions, some comforting and some absolutely excruciating, but was told they’d help move the baby down and turn her over (they concluded I was indeed having back labor).  The hands and knees position in the water and leaning into Jimmy was the most effective in helping bear the pain.  But they kept having me switch positions and lay on my side with my leg up in the air.  It felt really awkward and was extremely painful during the contractions.   The lovely chants had become full out bellows at the top of my lungs during each contraction now with them getting so intense.  I really used my voice, like never before, moaning out each syllable with the pain.

At some point, I heard Nancy, the trainee, say something about all our icons and taking a picture.  Not really fully comprehending what she even said, I think I vaguely nodded and all of a sudden the dim room filled with a flash.  Then another.  Then another.  When yet another flash went off, with barely any energy after my contraction, I raised my hand and waved it towards her in the most pathetic way, like a sick puppy pawing at the air, in attempt to convey, “I can’t speak, but knock it the fuck off.”  Emily turned to her and said, “Yeah, enough already.”

A few minutes later during another contraction, Nancy said, “Serenity, turn over on your side again.”  Weird.  Maybe she thought she was being cute by giving me a nickname because of all the icons and relaxing music?  A few minutes later, she did it again; “Serenity” and I realized she didn’t know my name.  During a contraction, I said through clenched teeth, “My…name…is…Amanda!!!”  I knew then this chick was going to get on my nerves.  Not a few minutes later, Nancy mentioned getting “him” out referring to our daughter.  Both Emily and Jimmy shouted at the same time, “It’s a GIRL!”  

By this time the contractions were so wildly painful that I couldn’t focus on anything, not even the fact that she couldn’t get my name or the gender of my child right.  I had a hard time keeping up with the chanting or catching my breath now. I had switched to the Gayatri Mantra, what I call the “Big Guns” for chanting because it’s long, it’s ancient (from the Rig Veda) and it’s powerful (and only recently has it been taught to women).  Being in transition with the contractions being on top of each other, the Gayatri was perfect because I knew each time I’d get through the whole thing, the elongated contraction would be over – at least for a few seconds.

The real Buddhist practice was trying to stay in the moment as much as I could and not think about what was next.  I didn’t ask if I was dilated any more or when I would push or “how much longer?”  I didn’t ask any of this and tried not to think about anything else except the moment I was in.  I tried so hard to just ride each contraction and the pain as best as I could and then collapsed in exhaustion in between, though these between moments were becoming fewer and fewer.

The pain was becoming so sharp and electrifying that is difficult to even put into words.  It felt as if my spine was being snapped in half and electrocuted each time the contraction ripped through, as if electrified butcher knives were chopping hibachi style down my vertebrae.  This was the first contraction of many where I began to lose any sense of yogic calmness.  I couldn’t finish the chants and ended up just screaming through the contractions, my voice coming from outside of me, but somewhere deep within me in a primal, tribal abyss.  And this would pretty much be the way it was the rest of the labor. 

All the breathing, yoga, chanting and visualizations had been absolutely wonderful and very effective the first 14 hours.  But at this degree of indescribable pain, I have to sadly say I lost all control of them.  I was in a whole new realm of excruciating torture I hadn’t known was humanely possible.  I sobbed, repeating over and over, “I was naïve.  I didn’t know…I didn’t know.”  Because while I had prepared and expected intense pain, I had no conception of the degree to which it would go.  No book, no doctor, nothing can prepare you for this kind of pain. 

I screamed through another contraction and heard Nancy say, “Sssshhhhhh.”  I immediately yelled at her, “DON’T TELL ME TO SSSHHH!!!!”   The one thing my doula and I were passionate about was using my voice as much as possible during labor. It was my lifeline.  I looked at my Sharon and with one look she knew I was done with Nancy.  Sharon nodded, fully understanding and a few minutes later Nancy was gone.  Ah, the power of a doula!