Peaceful Mountain
December 2020
Maya shakes me from my slumber to reveal that she is engulfed in a mysterious, dark pink substance. To my untrained eye, her water has broken and Taishan’s birth is imminent. I enthusiastically change the sheets and attempt in vain to return to sleep. It’s an impossible task as I contemplate holding my son for the first time. As the sun peeks over the Vaca Mountains to the east, we anxiously await the arrival of our new family member. The afternoon and evening pass without so much as a hiccup.
The following day is identical, full of eager anticipation of contractions that never come. We walk. We play board games. We pray at our birth altar. Nothing happens. Precisely when the sun dips behind the Mayacamas mountains to the west, we finally enter the liminal realm of labor. As if it had been waiting for the cover of darkness, Maya’s cervix begins to separate. Based on the sounds and facial expressions she’s making, it’s clear this is the moment we have been waiting for! We resist the temptation to call our midwife Paula and distract ourselves by watching The Last Dance. Our need to press pause increases exponentially throughout the evening as Maya’s contractions become excruciatingly stronger and more frequent. By the time Michael Jordan drains the game winning shot over Bryan Russell in game 6 of the 1998 NBA Finals, Maya is no longer able to stay present to the interpersonal drama of the NBA. We migrate into the bedroom, certain that Taishan will arrive by the end of the night.
Under the red glow of a himalayan pink salt lamp, we cuddle in bed, riding waves of increasingly painful contractions. I call Paula several times and give her updates which always end in her instructions to be patient and call again later. Midnight comes and goes. Everyone who’s rooting for us to get a break on our 2020 tax return is officially disappointed. By 4am, we’re convinced that birth is looming and talk Paula into doing a cervical exam. To our dismay, Maya is only 1cm dilated after 10 hours of consistent contractions. She reports that Maya’s water hasn’t actually broken, so there’s no need to rush. She returns home to sleep, and Maya continues to endure the dreadfully slow opening of her cervix throughout the night and following day.
The evening of new year’s day Paula returns and finds Maya to be 3-4cm dilated, estimating that Taishan will be born within the next 48 hours. She suggests that we should have named him fast river instead of peaceful mountain. My logical mind implodes. Before this moment, I never heard of labor lasting more than 30 hours. It was incomprehensible that Maya could continue for two more days without collapsing in exhaustion. Paula does not appear concerned.
The contractions proceed like clockwork through the night and the following day. Our home is filled with the reverberating echoes of Maya screaming. She has no appetite and has not eaten or slept in several days. I’m certain she will run out of steam and be taken to the hospital. She appears to be in immense pain and running out of patience.
“Take me to the hospital. I want to give up. I can’t do this anymore!” She blurts out hourly.
We’ve made an agreement that we will only go to the hospital if it is medically required. I am eager to relieve her suffering, but I know that if I do, we will both regret it for the rest of our lives.
On the third evening of labor, Paula returns along with Emma and Carly who will support the birthing process. The team confirms that Maya is 6cm dilated, giving us the green light to prepare for active labor. I am relieved to hear that progress has been made. I am baffled by the fact that 48 hours into labor, Maya’s cervix is only 60 percent open. In the time that it has taken her cervix to open 6 centimeters, an airplane could have circumnavigated the globe. My sleep deprived brain attempts to extrapolate how much longer it will take to get to ten centimeters.
My statistical analysis is interrupted by a tangible and exciting project; filling the birth tub! Maya and I have been fantasizing about having a water birth since we found out she was pregnant, and one of our primary reasons for choosing a home birth was to fulfill this fantasy. We naively inflated the tub with air as soon as her contractions began and were surprised to learn that it takes up nearly every available square inch of floor space in the room. I’ve been awkwardly stepping over it every time I travel between the bed and the bathroom, and I feel overjoyed that it will finally serve its purpose.
While we fill the bath, Maya undergoes a process that will forever scar her memory of this night. Do not say the words “side lying position” to my wife. She will burn a hole through your forehead with a bitter scowl.
In order to get to the destination of a fully opened cervix, Maya is instructed to lay on her side, while strong force is exerted downwards upon her exposed hip. I watch in horror as Emma applies the pressure and Maya screams like she is being stabbed with an ice pick.
Sensing that I am eager to participate, Emma teaches me a different maneuver to help open Maya’s pelvis. As Maya crouches on all fours, I straddle her from behind and use my palms to push the top of her hip bones inward, as if I were trying to crush a watermelon with my bare hands. Despite having zero previous experience with this motion, pelvic opening support is now my main job for the remainder of the night. I have not slept or eaten a proper meal in over 48 hours. I need frequent breaks to hydrate and swallow handfuls of beef jerky to fuel my fatigued arms. Maya is not happy with my performance.
“Get Emma! You don't know how to do it!” she frequently barks over her shoulder at me.
I want to defend myself and feel acknowledged for how hard I am trying. Meanwhile, Maya’s body is being ripped apart. I check my ego and remain silent, knowing there is nothing I can ever do to equitably share the cost of birthing our son. So, I squeeze as hard as I can and take a deep breath whenever she screams at me.
By the wee hours of the night, I enter an altered state. In the birthing tub, I am pressing as firmly as possible into Maya’s hips. Our three midwives sit on the bed providing encouragement. Maya’s mother Irit and sister Tamar stand behind us, offering sips of coconut water and words of affirmation. I think of all the women throughout history who have given birth, and how historically rare it is for a man to be present. I feel I’ve been granted entry into a secret society of magic and alchemy.
My transcendent moment is interrupted by biological needs. Maya requires constant trips to the toilet, which entail her doing an acrobatic kick over the unusually high wall of the birthing tub while I support most of her body weight. On perhaps our fifth trip to the toilet, I stand in front of her as she fiercely grabs my wrists during a contraction. I hear a splash, followed by a river gushing over my legs and onto the bathroom floor. Maya’s water has broken! A chorus of applause and “woohoo” congratulates us from the other room. I'm convinced that it will now be a matter of minutes before I see my son’s face, but the process continues to unfold at a pace that makes a snail seem speedy.
My energy has completely evaporated, and I doubt my ability to remain useful. The midwives are all asleep on the bed like 3 sardines. Maya tries to accelerate the timeline through pure will power. She taps into her animal instincts and begins screaming like a rabid hyena. Despite successfully exorcizing any demons in the room, we do not appear to be making progress in birthing Taishan. I fear she will collapse before she gets the chance to push the baby out. Irit sits in front of her chanting words of affirmations and encouragement.
“Go Inward,” she says.
“Fuck going inward!” Maya responds.
No energy remains for being polite.
Maya continues to scream like every large land mammal I can conjure until Paula attempts to redirect her energy from her throat to her pelvis.
“When you make high pitched screams, you're wasting your energy. Just pretend you’re going poop and focus your energy down there,” she explains.
Maya’s ability to comprehend and follow instructions is rapidly deteriorating, and she has a tough time translating Paula’s guidance into action. I slowly coax her out of the screaming animal approach and into calm, constipated pooping mode. Paula sticks her finger in Maya’s vagina while she pushes, seeking confirmation that she has learned the technique. Maya goes “within” and begins pushing with the focused determination of a zen monk. Her squawking Toucan sounds have morphed into a blender at low speed. The energy in the room shifts, and all three midwives now circle the tub, sensing Taishan’s arrival. Paula reaches her hand between Maya’s legs.
“I can feel his head.” She reports with a sense of calm that could only be achieved by supporting the birth of hundreds of babies.
Maya feels she’s been given permission to sprint to the finish line. We are entering the moment which has been described as the ring of fire. This is when the head of the baby must pass through the birth canal, which apparently feels like an inferno engulfing the entire vaginal opening. Maya has been instructed to push as slowly as possible to avoid tearing. But, there is nothing she wants more at this moment than getting the baby out. She reaches between her legs and confirms she can feel Taishan’s head. Not even the threat of stitches between her vagina and anus can stop this train. She now looks more like a feral cat than a human and begins pushing with all her might.
As I sit behind Maya in the tub, Paula hands me a waterproof flashlight to illuminate the miracle unfolding underwater. I have a Luke Skywalker moment as I press the button and watch a beam of light extend below. I am staring close range at Maya’s anus, which expands enormously with every contraction. I believe I am looking at her vagina, and I’m confused why I don't see any sign of a baby’s head - please understand that I haven't slept in 3 days, and I am in a dark room, halfway submerged in murky water. I wonder if Maya is delusional, and I begin to fear that we aren’t as close to the finish line as we thought.
Then, the top half of Taishan’s hairy head pops into view, revealing 2 closed eyes that remain peacefully shut.
“I see the head!” I shout.
With Maya’s next push, his round nose emerges. Another push and his mouth appears. Before I can take a breath, his whole body shoots out of Maya like a cannonball. This is when I am supposed to catch the baby, but he slips right through my hands into an abyss of poop, urine and blood.
Paula calmly reaches in and supports me in guiding Taishan up into Maya’s arms. We cradle his tiny head in our arms just at water level, and gaze into his eyes.
“He’s out! Taishan, you did it! You made it.” I exclaim, feeling the greatest sense of relief I’ve ever known.
Irit, Tamar, Paula, Emma and Carly stand in a circle around us and behold this new being. Time stops. Taishan is the embodiment of peace. He doesn't make a peep.
He just stares at us, seeming to say “I don't know why you were so worried. I left the womb when I was ready.”
“Oh my god. My baby. You’re my baby.” are the first delicate words Maya speaks to him, as we both instantly fall in love.
My heart bursts open as I examine each exquisite feature of his tiny body. Fingernails like grains of rice. For a few minutes that feel like an eternity, Maya and I hold him in the tub, looking deeply into his eyes, surrounded by angels, gently welcoming him into the world. We are oblivious to the ways in which our world has just been turned upside down.
~
For a musical tribute to Taishan, click the image below.
“This is nothing short of miraculous
I never knew this level of happiness
I am certain that you have these gifts
when we unwrap all the packages the world will be more fabulous”