The deepest surrender - a birth story
This is the birth story of Dhyana’s second baby, her daughter. A story of true surrender to God’s will, and the reclamation of a mothers destiny to be the authority over the birth of her child. When mothers truly and deeply trust their body’s primal intuition, God’s beauty can unfold. Follow Dhyana’s inner journey as she dreamed of a freebirth, surrendered to the idea of a hospital birth as pregnancy complications arose, and then reclaimed her power as birthing mother and followed her intuition to birth her baby alone with her husband, hands and knees on the Earth, under the Oak tree in their backyard, with her birthkeeper watching over them from a distance.
*Possible Trigger Warning* This story discusses birth trauma and the medical condition VCI and the potential of baby loss that is associated with that diagnosis.
Midwife sits aside and observes this beautiful moment as mama and papa soak in the sweet first moments with their newborn daughter.
“You’ve got me, God?!” I cried. “Let me know that whatever happens... You’ve got me. That this is Your divine will. All of it.”
The Birth of My Daughter - by Dhyana Masla
When I became pregnant with my little girl, I felt excited to start care with the same homebirth midwives who supported me in birthing my son. At the same time, I felt mysteriously drawn to the idea of “free birthing” my baby — giving birth at home with only my husband present. My plan was to attend my monthly appointments with my midwives to develop a loving and trusting relationship, and then to see how I felt as labor neared.
gaining clarity
As the months went on, I became internally clear that these midwives were not meant to support me in birthing my little girl. There were a lot of memories that were arising around the birth of my son and a lot of healing that needed to happen around the dynamics of his birth before giving birth to my daughter. I felt anger towards my midwives around how the final stage of my labor felt suddenly medicalized. One midwife asked for me to lay on my back so that she could check my dilation, as labor seemed to be slowing down. I now understand that I was in the sacred moments of transition, right before he was to come. I didn’t want to lay on my back, as my body was asking to be on hands and knees for every single contraction over the last 18 hours. I gave my power to her as the “authority” of my birth… because I assumed she knew better than I did, as it was only my first birth, after all. I also now understand that there is no need to know how dilated a cervix is, as labor unfolds outside of the realm of time: mama can be 2cm dilated and give birth within the hour or 10cm dilated and it still take hours before baby comes.
Once I was on my back, she saw that baby’s head was right there and suggested I stay on my back as I pushed. So I pushed. Hard (and then tore, and hurt for the next two weeks because of it). Everyone took their place just watching me (so weird and unnatural in retrospect) - the main midwife with her sterile gloves on, and all sorts of instruments laid out on a towel. She was in the place where my husband should have been as my son crowned and was birthed into the world. The midwives spoke in the sacred moments right after his birth, and rubbed his body with a cotton blanket as I held him.
These things may not seem “wrong” or “bad”, though in my second pregnancy, as I began to understand the dynamics of an undisturbed birth and really dropped into the space of knowing that my body was made to birth - I was able to see how the midwives’ presence at my first birth seemed unnatural and it got in the way of me being able to trust my body and my baby.
I truly believe that a midwife or care provider’s place in birth, if present at all, should be to witness and hold the sacred space for mama to birth, interfering only if mama asks for her or if actually needed. To trust mamas ability to birth and to recognize and honor mothers as the sole authority of their bodies, their babies, and their birth processes. I feel that care providers need to understand the subtleties, and thus the sacredness of labor and the moments following birth and not interfere in those moments unless absolutely needed.
An Unexpected turn of fate
I scheduled an anatomy scan during my second pregnancy to assure that all of baby’s organs were developing optimally. This is the only ultrasound I opt in for while growing my baby. At that ultrasound, the doctors diagnosed me with Marginal Cord Insertion, possibly Velementous (VCI) which would make it “extremely dangerous” to birth at home. My heart sunk. VCI is when baby’s umbilical cord inserts off of the margins of the placenta, so the exposed membranes not covered by Wharton’s jelly could easily be compressed during labor contractions - causing baby to suffocate and die. Or, the weaker bond of the umbilical cord to the placenta could cause the cord to detach during labor, causing baby to be cut off from their supply of blood and oxygen and also for mama to hemorrhage... and die. Wow.
In the following months I got the opinions of two other doctors and they both confirmed it was VCI. The two doctors and my midwives affirmed that the only safe place to birth my babe would be the hospital - where they could monitor me throughout labor and assure that the umbilical cord (and thus my baby) were fine - as well as assure that the placenta came out with minimal bleeding (likely with the help of pitocin).
It was two weeks before my due date. My midwives told me they would no longer attend my home birth. I was in the process of surrendering to and preparing for a hospital birth. A hospital birth is the safest place for some mothers to birth. If it was truly the safest place for me to birth my baby, then it was what I was going to do. But I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t imagine being in the most primal act of my life, getting into a car and driving to an unfamiliar environment and being surrounded by people I didn’t know and love.
I wrote and then re-wrote a hospital birth plan, and just couldn’t believe I was having to write all of these things to protect myself from other people interfering with of one of the most natural processes there is.
I asked and the re-asked what the consequences might be of denying procedures or leaving before being discharged; if I could be in the birthing positions I wanted to be in; if daddy was “allowed” to catch his baby.
I couldn’t believe that I was going to birth in a place where they aren’t trained in the dynamics of real, natural birth, and are instead trained to interfere. Where when patients make decisions during labor and delivery that diverge from what some doctors or nurses feel is best, some hospitals threaten to report the parent to child protective services or issue court orders to coerce compliance.
I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t be able to go home to be with my 3 year old son until a minimum of 24 hours after the birth without signing a “Failure to Comply” agreement.
I couldn’t believe I was about to birth somewhere where it was actually impossible to be the authority of my birth.
And although in some cases it may be actually medically necessary to birth in the hospital (and it be an ease filled, beautiful and supportive experience)— I couldn’t believe that my birth were one of them.
I more and more believed that there was nothing natural about even an un-medicated hospital birth, as my body is wise and will only birth naturally - as in, how nature intended - in the most natural of environments.
For me, that was in my home. And as I was to discover, it was actually outside in nature - with my body on the earth beneath an oak tree.
I prayed. Was a hospital birth the only safe option?
Seeing GOd’s Hand in Everything
A series of profound synchronicities - coming one after the other - began giving me strength in my intuitive knowing that my baby would be birthed at home. It started with a doctor at the hospital giving me confidence that this birth would be no different than other births; then directly after, running into a mama who’s baby’s cord detached during birth and everything was totally fine; speaking to a handful of midwives who felt fully confident in a VCI homebirth; connecting with a midwife in Colorado (a woman my massage therapist suggested I speak to) who worked in the hospital and witnessed 100’s of VCI births which were all normal births. She told me “your body will know if and when you have to go to the hospital. As a culture, we have lost touch with our body’s knowing. Especially as a mother - you will always know what is best for your baby.” When I talked to one of my dearest girlfriends later that week, we couldn’t believe that - out of all midwives - that same midwife was the one who supported her during the birth of her son.
I felt that I was part of a tapestry being woven that would reveal, in time, the already destined place that my baby would be born. In my desire to do what was truly best for my little one, I was showing up and doing my part. I was surrendered, open to the signs (there are always signs), and following my knowing.
Home.
I wanted a midwife there so that if I did become nervous during labor, I could lean on her wisdom and experience. I called every midwife within a 3 hour radius of my home. All of them were comfortable with a VCI home birth- though with only a week before my due date, no one was available to take me on as a client.
It looked as though we were going to have the unassisted home birth that I had envisioned since the beginning of this pregnancy. I started to experience anxiety on the Tuesday before she was born. Anxiety is a rare and unfamiliar experience for me. Was a romanticized desire to have a wild and natural birth at home getting in the way of me actually understanding the severity of the situation? Would birthing at home be a decision that I would forever regret, because perhaps my child wouldn’t make it? ... or me?
“You’ve got me, God?!” I cried. “Let me know that whatever happens... You’ve got me. That this is Your divine will. All of it.”
“We stayed outside beneath the oak tree for two or three hours. The midwife never touched my baby. My baby never left my arms.”
An angel to my Rescue
Three days before my due date I texted a midwife who came highly recommended by trustworthy women in my community:
“I was working with midwives who are no longer willing to do a homebirth because of VCI. If I go into labor tonight, our plan is free birth - though I would feel more grounded having an experienced midwife here who could monitor and hold space as needed, who knows variations of normal, and who ultimately supports me in trusting the process of birth. I've heard wonderful things regarding the space that you hold. I would love to connect about the potential of you coming to our birth.”
“If you go into labor tonight or overnight, call me,” she responded. “I'll be there.”
I fell to my knees in gratitude. Even now, writing this, tears roll down my cheeks. I had never met or even spoken to her on the phone. She didn’t ask for my insurance policy or how I would pay. She simply said “I’ll be there,” in devotion to mother and the sacred process of birth.
She came over the next day - and I felt such profound shelter. A wise woman, a sister, a friend who was fully aligned with the sacred and empowering vision of birth that I held.
All was right. All was okay. I trusted that in a deep, deep way now.
I was ready to birth my baby.
Birthing Day
August 8th was my mother’s birthday - and a day beyond my expected “due date”. I started to feel more heavy and tired and suspected that baby was coming soon. Braxton Hicks contractions seemed to be getting stronger, and that evening, as we were having a dinner party for my mama, they seemed to come more often.
I went to sleep that night though was awakened every 10 minutes or so by stronger and stronger waves lasting for just under a minute - never too strong to get me out of bed, though always strong enough to wake me up.
When I got out of bed in the morning I was pretty sure that I was in early labor, though knew it could still be days before she came, as some labors come and go. I did an abhyanga (self oil massage) and basti (oil enema) as my little boy and husband had breakfast. Around 8am I called my mom to let her know that I thought today was the day and asked her to come over to be with my son so that I could be absorbed in my process. I took an outdoor herbal bath as they drew with chalk on the back porch. It was a beautiful morning.
My husband made rice kanji and I sat on the couch to eat. Around 10am the waves were getting strong enough that I had to focus on them entirely when they came. They were spaced about 7-8 minutes apart, though each lasting more than a minute. I told my mom that it was time to take my little boy out and about so that I could be at home with just my husband. My husband prepared the beds and birthing tub, bathed and did puja (the act of worship) in front of our altar.
By 11:30am, the intensity of each wave was becoming stronger and stronger. I assumed I was still at the beginning of a long labor - considering my first experience of labor - and couldn’t believe how painful these contractions were. With my son’s birth, it was long and intense - though I wouldn’t ever describe it as painful. Though with this one, I couldn’t find any position that would lessen the pain. I wanted my husbands full presence now, and wanted him to be touching me. I think I needed the warmth.
Around noon, the contractions were less than 5 minutes apart and lasting for over a minute - active labor.
“Help!” I cried, to my husband or to God - to whoever might hear me. “Help!”. I tried hands and knees leaning against our bed, I went onto the toilet. A wave would come and bring me onto my tippy toes holding on to the counter, and then down onto all fours. I crawled into my son’s playroom. “This is too intense. Something needs to change,” I thought. Between contractions, which were now just minutes apart, I walked around the house looking for somewhere or something else that might support me. I opened our back door and went outside. I dropped onto all fours beneath our kumquat tree. The earth felt like a sanctuary beneath me, the sun’s warmth like a soothing balm on my back.
“I want to be near our fire pit,” I told my husband as I got up between waves and walked there. I knew I wouldn’t have long before the next wave came. My husband went inside to get blankets and pillows and our oil diffuser with cardamom essential oil. I told him I wanted to sleep, and I lay down beneath the oak tree and actually fell asleep - the sacred space of transition - until another wave brought me to my hands and knees. It was just after 1pm.
These contractions felt different though. They felt bearable. And suddenly my vulva was opening. It literally felt like I was blossoming, like a rose unfurling.
“Baby’s coming,” I said to my husband. He texted our midwife who said she would be there in 10 minutes. He put the phone away and told me “I’m fully here with you.”
I instinctively started breathing fast through my mouth with each wave to slow down the force of baby’s head moving through me. She would pulse out, then back in after each contraction. I was in no rush. My body was opening in the most beautiful way. It was truly unbelievable.
Her head came out, facing the sky.
Her eyes were closed and her face was blue. She was completely silent. We suddenly hear a voice behind my husband: “Good,” was all she said. I turned around and smiled. Our birth-guardian arrived at the perfect moment- and simply watched. She knew we didn’t need her - and she held the most profound and sacred space for us to feel fully confident in bringing our baby earth side. With the next contraction, baby slipped out. Daddy passed her to me between my legs. I leaned against our picnic table with her on my belly. In total awe.
“She’s a little girl,” daddy said.
My little girl. She’s here.
My placenta plopped out effortlessly after some minutes. My midwife confirmed that it was a perfectly fine placenta (no VCI! All this time, it had been a false diagnosis!)
We stayed outside beneath the oak tree for two or three hours. The midwife never touched my baby. My baby never left my arms.
She asked if I wanted to do the standard procedures like APGAR testing, weight and length measuring, etc. I said “do I have to?”, as I didn’t feel ready to put her down. She said “it’s your baby! You don’t have to do anything.” An angel. “No need then,” I said.
She left. I bathed. My husband went to pick up our little boy who was sleeping in his arms when they got home.
Everything was perfect. So peaceful. Beyond what I could have envisioned for the birth of my dreams.
