My Pain-Free Birth

by Erika Domeij

I’ve always wondered about the power of the mind. Do we really control our brain and body or does it control us? Now I think I’ve got an answer. It came to me with the birth of my second daughter, Sara.

Six years had passed since the birth of my first child when I found out I was pregnant again, this time by my second husband. Our blended family was eagerly awaiting the baby’s arrival and feeling lucky that my previous midwife, Gill, was available for this birth. Gill was returning from maternity leave and was as lovely and energetic as I remembered.

When the midwives asked about our plans for prenatal classes, my husband and I mentioned that we’d been thinking about something called Hypnobirthing. I’d seen it mentioned online and we were trying to contact an instructor. Gill remembered that I’d had a natural, straightforward though somewhat painful eight-hour labour with my first baby. I told her that I was looking forward to another natural birth, this time at home. If I could eliminate the painful part, so much the better. Gill was supportive, though somewhat doubtful of the latter. She reassured me that if my labour turned out to be painful, I wouldn’t have failed. I, on the other hand was blindly confident that if other women could have pain-free labour, then so could I. Hypnosis, after all, is now an alternative to surgical anesthesia. Did I think childbirth was more painful than being cut open and operated on? I hoped not.

The first thing we encountered when we began taking Hypnobirthing classes was that our excitement was met with skepticism and sometimes downright derision. Who did I think I was saying that childbirth didn’t have to be painful? I was even accused of being insensitive to some mothers’ painful birthing experiences by suggesting there was such an alternative. It became increasingly obvious to me that I would have to keep my excitement and feelings of empowerment to myself. My conversations with people usually went something like this:

“So how is your pregnancy going?”

“I feel great! I’m healthy and excited.”

“Do you have a good doctor?”

“Actually I have a good midwife. We’ve decided on a homebirth.”

“Wow. Isn’t that dangerous? What if something goes wrong?”

“Actually, I’m really looking forward to it. We’ve been taking Hypnobirthing classes.”

“Hypnobirthing? What’s that?”

“I’m learning to relax and picture my ideal labour and birth in the same way an athlete pictures winning a competition. I visualize and listen to CDs. I’m actually preparing to have a pain-free labour. Hypnobirthing teaches that labour pain is more about fear and tension than actual physical pain.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“I’m working pretty hard at not listening to any negativity. It’s all about trusting birth.”

“Whatever. I’ve been through it twice and both were excruciating! Don’t you think you’d better be prepared to deal with pain? Don’t tell me you really believe this stuff!”

And so on.

Now, I’m all for freedom of expression. And I personally understand why women can be quick to take offense when they believe someone is judging them or their birthing experience, but that just wasn’t the case. I was trying to follow the path that felt right to me. I was really excited to try this “Hypnobirthing” and was a little sad that no one was willing to share my excitement with me. So my husband and daughter and I became a close little triad in our seemingly singular belief that a peaceful and pain-free birth was mine if I wanted it. I did find some camaraderie in a couple of great and graphic YouTube videos showing average women giving birth, seemingly without discomfort or intervention. And there were our Hypnobirthing classes. I practiced and I believed and I waited to find out… would it really work?

Well here I am, less than a year after Sara’s birth. I’ve gone over and over everything that happened last October 23, the day I finally went into labour and was able to put my learning into practice. No matter how I look at it, I wouldn’t go back and change anything. Not just because my daughter arrived safely and we had the homebirth we’d wanted, but because the birth happened without pain. It really did. I’m not joking. And I’m going to say it again: I felt no pain! There was definitely some pressure and intensity. I felt my baby coming. But no pain. In fact, my midwife almost didn’t make it to the birth. After labouring comfortably for about seven and a half hours (during which time I read most of The Secret Life of Bees and listened to my birthing CD about 500 times), I agreed to have Gill come by for a visit. She herself felt sure that I hadn’t begun active labour. She came in and I chatted between contractions when all of a sudden I said I felt like pushing. Then I could feel the head and then that fuzzy intensity that lets you know in hindsight that all sorts of good chemicals are being produced by and pumped through your body. And then Sara was born at 4:20 p.m. into my own arms, without a whimper or a curse or a prayer. I can still scarcely believe it myself. But it was beautiful and I am grateful.

Of course I now have a birth story that almost no one wants to hear. But I’m okay with that. Because I have discovered that I am in control. And as the mother of two young daughters, that’s not something to take for granted.
Blessings to all mothers!

Erika Domeij is a writer, wife and proud mother of 2 girls, Anna, 7, and Sara, 7 months.