Childbirth Testimonials

Growing up, I heard my mom talk about the “Peaceful Childbirth” course several times, but I never knew

what it meant or what it entailed. Movies, the media, and conversations with other women made

childbirth seem anything but peaceful, much less painless. Seeing these experiences and then hearing

the contrast of my mom’s experience made me wonder if childbirth could actually be a calm experience.

My mom has an uncanny pain tolerance; did she have a positive experience due to her pain tolerance or

because of training? Could I have a peaceful childbirth?

When I found out I was pregnant, I thought I might as well try the course because if there was a chance

it worked, why wouldn’t I want a good experience? I began the course around my 27th week of

pregnancy. It wasn’t quite what I thought, but the process made sense. Almost every athlete knows that

mental endurance is just as important as, if not more than, physical endurance. If people prepare

mentally for other physical tests, whether it be reviewing film before a game or visualizing the course for

a race, why not childbirth?

To me, “Peaceful Childbirth” is a mental preparation course for developing relaxation and pain

management systems for expecting mothers. The course helped me gain the confidence I needed and

helped me to visualize (and eventually have) the calm, peaceful birth I wanted. Please know that this is

my experience and by reading it, it does not mean that yours will be the same or that mine is every case.

Each experience is unique, and everyone will have their own story associated with childbirth, but in

reading this, I hope my experience helps shed a positive light on giving birth and helps to empower you

to have your own peaceful childbirth.

My contractions began around 8:00pm Tuesday, November 28th. I had some pre-labor contractions

earlier that morning lasting from 2:00am till 11:00am. These contractions were stronger than the ones I

had previously, but I had never been in labor before and since my other ones went away, I wasn’t sure if

these were the real thing. They occurred about once every hour and I was able to sleep until 11:25pm

when the pressure was stronger and harder to sleep through.

I got out of bed at 12:12am and began timing the contractions, they were now about 8-10 minutes

apart. I moved into the living room so I wouldn’t wake Brad (my husband). I figured if this was the real

thing, and the typical first-time labor lasts a while, it would be good if at least one of us was well-rested. I

went into the living room and laid on the couch to try and get some sleep—it didn’t really work because

there was more pressure on my lower back and from my belly button down. Contractions were about 7-

8 minutes apart now.

I tried a couple different strategies to help with the cramping/pressure (I wouldn’t call it pain because to

me it wasn’t really pain, it was more pressure). I would lay down for a bit (that seemed to be the least

successful strategy), I would sit on the edge of the couch, I would stand up, I would walk around in small

circles, I would squat. I was trying to see if they would go away by switching between these because

Google said Braxton Hicks would go away with change of position or movement. I still wasn’t convinced

this was the real thing. With each contraction, I would take a deep breath and breathe out, letting my

cheeks puff out, regulating the air flow and slowing down the exhale (about 5 seconds in and 10 seconds

out). I figured out each contraction took about three breaths, so I would just focus on one breath at a

time and nothing else.

My contractions varied from about 10-7 minutes apart (with a couple longer) until about 2:30am where

they became about 5-7 minutes. Those lasted until 4:30am and then turned to 4-5 minutes until 5:00am

 

when I decided to call the hospital to see if I should go in (this is about when Brad woke up and realized I

wasn’t in the bed). They asked how far apart the contractions were, if my water had broke, how I was

feeling, etc. They told me since I wasn’t sure if this was actually labor or not to wait an hour and see how

things progressed. Of course, after I ended the call, my next contraction didn’t happen for another 20

minutes making me question everything. Then the contractions picked up again about 6 minutes apart.

By 6:00am they were still about 6 minutes apart and manageable, so I decided to wait another hour.

7:00 am rolled around, and all of a sudden, they were 2-3 minutes apart. I woke Brad up and I said, “I

think we should go and at least check it out”. Never being in labor before, I still wasn’t sure if this was it.

We grabbed the hospital bag, some snacks, and got into the car. Of course, as soon as we were pulling

out of the parking lot, who rolled in but Alex and Kylie (my brother and his wife), just in time to see us

going to the hospital to have a baby. We took Main Street since it was still early and the traffic wasn’t too

bad, but I soon regretted that decision as every stoplight seemed to be red and the brake didn’t help

with the pressure.

We got to the hospital around 7:30am and went up to the third floor — “Labor and Delivery”. We walked

into the lobby and saw a plaque on the wall that read “dedicated to Stacey Turner”. Stacey was a good

friend of mine who had passed away a few years earlier. I pointed it out to Brad and smiled – I wasn’t

alone.

I picked up the phone, “Hi, my name is Aysha Gossett, and I think I’m in labor.”

“How Far along?”

“39 weeks.”

“Wait there and we will have someone out to get you.”

A lady came out and the conversation was repeated as she led me into a side room adjacent to the

lobby. I dressed in a hospital gown and had to lay on a table as they did a cervical check. I kept deep

breathing as contractions came and went. The nurse checked my dilation and looked surprised, I think

she checked it twice before telling me, “Well you are between a 6 and a 7 – sit tight and we will get you a

room.”

To which I replied, “So does this mean I’m in labor?”

She laughed a little and said, “Yes, yes you are.”

She disappeared for a couple minutes to make the arrangements – I kept breathing. Another nurse came

to bring us to our room. She said, “Wow, you’re so calm for being a 7.”

We walked to our room, pausing/walking slower as more contractions came along. We were led to a

room with a frog on the door. It had a hospital bed, a bunch of monitors, a baby scale, and a couch up

against the window. I was told there weren’t any midwives on call so I would have a doctor.

Once we were settled, I called my mom to tell her to come to the hospital because today was the day.

Brad went and got our bag from the car, and we made ourselves comfortable. They put an IV outlet into

my hand just in case and gave me a yoga ball. Monitors on my belly kept track of the baby heart rate

(which played like a low, constant drum beat in the background) as well as tracked the strength of my

contractions. My mom arrived shortly after.

 

Almost every nurse that came to help made a comment about how calm I was for being dilated at a 7.

The hours went by one contraction at a time, one breath at a time. I changed positions frequently from

bouncing/doing hip circles on the yoga ball, to walking around the room, to squats, to

standing/stretching in place, to sitting on the edge of the bed. There were moments when I would be hit

with a wave of exhaustion and have to sit/lie on the bed. Sometimes I would get lucky and get what

seemed like a 30 second nap between contractions, but whenever I rested it seemed to slow down my

progress, so I never stayed there for long.

We were alone for the most part, just the three of us. Brad and I made up a game where after each

contraction he would tell me the contraction intensity rating and we would celebrate when I got a new

high score. I brought a speaker and played peaceful instrumental music in the background. I wonder

what it was like for my mom and Brad, sitting there for hours. For me, I was completely in the moment,

living one breath at a time. “45 seconds,” I would tell myself, “I can last 45 seconds—just breathe.”

Contractions were similar to my electric therapy for my knee (I had ACL surgery the year before). The

contraction would involuntarily start and gradually ramp up, muscles contracting/tightening and then

releasing. I felt the contractions from the belly button down and in my lower back. I found that squatting

helped to take the pressure off of my lower back, so eventually, I ended up asking the nurses to convert

the hospital bed to add a squat bar. Because I was living one breath at a time and completely focusing on

my breathing, I didn’t want any distractions. Brad tried to rub my back, which was sweet, but it disrupted

my focus (and massages personally aren’t always my favorite thing in the world) so I didn’t want anyone

to touch me.

My mom offered to help walk me through some of the peaceful childbirth lessons, which I appreciated,

but I felt like I was already there. I was relaxed, it was different from what we went through in the

lessons, like what I visualized differed, but the elements and techniques were there. Occasionally, I

would try to visualize what I had been taught but I couldn’t get much farther than the beach (if you

know, you know). For the most part, I was focused on breathing and my mind was mostly blank—which

is saying a lot because most of the time my mind is moving a mile a minute.

We learned from a class at the hospital that moving helps to open the cervix, so I tried not to sit still for

too long. Around noon or so the nurse came in to check my progress and I was between an eight and a

nine. They explained that they could pop my water for me, give me some medicine to help speed the

process up, or wait an hour and see if my water would break. I decided to wait an hour. I visualized my

water breaking and splashing all over the floor each time I squatted. An hour passed and still no water.

The nurse came back, and I decided to move forward with having them pop my water (as it was the most

natural of the options). I felt a little pressure and then “pop” my water broke. They used what looked like

a crochet hook to do it.

Almost immediately my contractions started to pick up. I had them check again—nine. I had to be careful

because they didn’t want to check too often for risk of infection. I was determined to get to a ten. I

waited about another 45 minutes before I had them check—still nine, but I was effacing more on one

side and there was still some left on the right side. They suggested I lay on my right side for a bit to help

even it out. I was so tired. So tired.

The side labor was a bit rough, not that it hurt, but my body wanted to push but the nurses said it wasn’t

time yet. It was like trying to hold back throwing up – you can try to hold back the puke but the gag

 

reflex still goes through. Shudders would go through my body, and it would push without my control. The

nurse said she would come back in about 30 minutes to check on me. I looked over at the nurse and

said, “Do you have to go?”

She said, “Would you like me to stay?”

I said, “Yes please.”

I did not want to wait thirty more minutes. Luckily, I didn’t have to. At about 15 minutes she checked me

(I couldn’t hold back from pushing anymore) and said we were ready to push.

A lot happened really quickly. The doctor came back in and got dressed in some blue plastic scrubs. They

asked me what position I wanted to be in, and I replied that I wanted to squat. They converted the bed

so half of it was lower and the squat bar was right in front. They pulled up some handles on the side so I

could grip and said I could start pushing. In the midst of all this, I looked down and asked, “Do you think I

should take off my socks? Do you think they would get dirty?” They said it might be a good idea so I took

them off.

Pushing was nice because I finally got to do something to help work with my body. This was where I was

extra grateful that I chose to have a natural birth. It was instinctual, listening to my body and pushing

when I felt it was right. I started off breathing through them until the doctor said I would get more power

if I held my breath through the push. They suggested propping my legs up and having Brad hold one foot

while the nurse held the other. At some point, the speaker had died, and the music stopped, but I didn’t

notice. I could get about 2-3 pushes in per contraction.

It wasn’t long before I heard the words “I see her head!” I got excited because I thought that meant I was

one or two pushes away. A couple more than that went by, and I was getting a little impatient. Then they

said, “Do you want to feel her head?” They guided my hand down until I felt something slightly squishy

(or maybe it just felt that way because it was wet). That gave me the motivation I needed because now it

was real. Everyone was so encouraging rooting me on. One nurse said, “If anyone can breathe a baby out

it’s you” earlier in the day and I held on to that as I pushed one breath at a time, one contraction at a

time. They told me to keep doing big pushes. I did. There was pressure, pressure, and then pop! Out

came her head and a ton of water – splashing all over Brad, his shirt, his pants, and his new shoes. I

heard, “The cord is wrapped around her head.” I felt them getting it loose. Another contraction came. I

pushed, I pushed, I could feel the contraction ending but I was so close, so I gave it everything I had.

Pow. At 3:10pm, she came out. Immediately there was relief. Unbelievable relief. I did it. It was done.

And I didn’t poop or cry in the process!

They quickly brought her up for skin to skin; the cord wasn’t long enough, so she laid on my stomach. I

felt so much peace. I looked over at Brad—there was so much love in his eyes. We made a human. We’re

parents now. Crazy. They started rubbing her back to get her to breathe. She coughed a bit (she had

swallowed some fluid on the way out) and then she took a deep breath and cried, she was alive. I didn’t

realize how a cry could bring so much joy. She didn’t cry for long once she snuggled up on me.

My placenta passed shortly after. I didn’t really feel the contractions for it, it just kind of slipped out.

There was a lot going on all at once. While Brad and I were distracted by the beautiful new baby, the

nurses went to work. “She’s bleeding a lot,” I heard one say.

 

“We’re going to give you a shot to help stop some of the bleeding.”

“Ok.” They jabbed a needle into my leg.

“She has a level 2 tear.”

The doctor who had left two minutes before I delivered to deliver a baby next door (the nurse had

delivered the baby) had missed the delivery but had returned by then. She looked at me and said, “I’m

going to stitch you up now. You tore in two places but I’m only going to stitch one and let the other heal

naturally.” The stitches stung but it helped that I was distracted by the baby.

I was in a bit of shock. So much had happened all at once. I still couldn’t believe she was here. I had

given birth. I gave a silent prayer of thanks (I had prayed a couple times earlier in my head that I would

have the strength and the energy to make it). One of the nurses said later, “We wouldn’t have known

you had just given birth, it was so quiet in here!” And another who had been in the room remarked,

“That was one of the best examples of natural births that we’ve seen.”

I couldn’t have done it without all of my support—my mom, Brad, and God. In the end, it was peaceful, it

was worth it, and I am so glad it happened the way it did.