Why I Chose a Home Birth: Part 1

They say Rome wasn’t built in one day. 

The same is true for me and my decision to birth at home.

You see, I always say when I see stuff come to fruition, “God warned me!”

And typically, it’s true! I never feel I’m thrown into things, but instead, small acts done by others, or myself bring me to events in my life. So when it came to having a home birth, it was no different.

On my dad’s side of the family, there’s a genetic disease called Congestive Heart Failure. Somewhere in the DNA, a mutation occurs and it stops your seemingly healthy life in it’s tracks. It did this to my grandfather, my uncle, my aunt, and my 15 year old cousin. The fact that it took so long to impact my Dad is still a wonder to us all. But in 2010, 3 weeks before senior prom my mom and I would find my dad passed out with a bloody chin around 3am. 

Hospitals, doctors, and chats with nurses would become common for me and my family for the next 5 years as my dad started to become a regular after being diagnosed with CHF. It was in fact one of his ICU nurses who convinced me to go vegan after recommending I watch Forks over Knives. It was one of the cardiovascular nurses who would explain that they had to prescribe additional medicines to counteract the damage another prescription would do. It was his heart transplant doctor who told us ‘there are benefits and risks with every procedure’.

Each time, a seed was planted.

While a few of my friends started to get pregnant and have babies, I was told birth stores of joy and some with underlining trauma. I was holding babies fresh from the hospital while moms couldn’t stay still trying to complete a to do list. One of my friends spoke of events where family members crowded her hospital room, removing the babies’ blanket, which dropped the babies’ temperature. Another friend spoke of how she requested delayed cord clamping, and seconds after her baby was born,the cord was clamped. Friends spoke of how they never got rest in the hospital because of the slew of nurses coming in and out to check vitals. 

Each time, I wondered what could have been different? Is this normal?

Then one of the aforementioned friends told me about a documentary (yes, cringe, I know many don’t like this documentary) The Business of Being Born.

So, with the unlimited time I had in my ‘married-with-no-kids’ life, I watched it the very same night. Similar reactions I had with Forks over Knives came into my head. I won’t go into details, but if you’re curious, I believe you should carve out time to watch it, I believe it’s worth it, regardless of your stance. It can at the very least, be through provoking. 

Thus, more seeds were planted.

To say the following reasons, encounters none of my own, were the only reasons, would be a lie. During this time, I was getting married, trying to lock down a OB/GYN and get on birth control (because our 5 year plan was to NOT have a baby… that’s another blog post). I came into contact with a OB/GYN with great reviews, so I chose her. She was ex military and I could tell. She was kind, but probably not the right lady for me. She once told me my ovaries were “fantabulous” in a singing manner, and for that I was indeed thankful. However, she prescribed a birth control that would riddle me with depression, and each appointment I’d say it didn’t feel right, and we’d try another one, and another one, will no avail. I finally came across another documentary (don’t quote me, I don’t remember) and it spoke of women my age dying of strokes and struggling with fertility with clear lines to their hormonal birth control. I was a bit put off by my OB and why I was never told of these possible side effects, which in turn, made me stop hormonal birth control and turn to Family Planning. Remember the depression? Well one of my counselors told me a ‘joke’

“Do you know what they call Family Planning Couples?”

“What?”

“Parents.”

So yeah, that was about the bode of confidence people had in Family Planning, but for two years I did not get pregnant. I am even more thankful to say when we did try getting pregnant, it only took one month. By the way, I know that’s not normal, so if you’re in the middle of trying to conceive, please don’t think you’ll get pregnant the first month. It’s on average 3-6 months. They don’t even want you to see a fertility specialist until you’ve tried for almost a year (don’t quote me on exact time spans, but it’s a while!)

So what was the final straw in wanting to try a different way?

My very last OB/GYN. 

Once Joe and I decided we wanted to try and have a baby, I found a new OB/GYN near our house with excellent reviews and made my appointment the week of thanksgiving (#TeacherProbs). I waited in her lobby for 35 minutes. I peed in a cup, moved to the next room, and sat for another 20 minutes. The OB came in  and she looked at my chart. She did the examination and I came with a list of 16 questions. I only asked 2 because I felt belittled. I felt ashamed. I felt as if my questions weren’t relevant to either of us and that it was a waste of my time. She never looked me in my eyes. As I left, they asked me to make an appointment for a year later because they filled up quickly. I was hesitant, but I made the appointment anyways. When I reached my car, I cried. I felt stupid, I doubted everything I was doing and if my body was capable of. That night I started to search midwives in the area.

These experiences and witnessing these experiences were some of my big ‘why’ for choosing a midwife, but there are many other reason (such as being a woman of color) that motivated my decisions.

Stay tuned next week, I’ll explain my process for finding a midwife and the ultimate decision to do a home birth!

Be good, ya hear?

Sydney