Amani's Birth Story

I've been meaning to post this here for quite some time. . . 

So, Amani Clinton Jackson was born Monday, May 7, 2007 at 1:55 am. I woke up Sunday morning cramping, but not really worried, since I had been cramping in the mornings for the past couple days. My mom was driving into town that day, and so I spent the day waiting on her, and getting baby stuff together.

At about 2:30, I realized that I had been cramping and having Braxton-Hicks contractions pretty consistently. I called my midwife, and she told me to try drinking lots of water and sitting in the tub; if the contractions stopped, then I simply needed more fluids, but if they didn't the baby would come that night. My mom was not that far away, so I decided to wait for her to find the house.

My mom got to our house at about 3, at which point I started drinking my water. I drank a half gallon in an hour, and then got in the birthing pool for an hour. When I got out of the water at 5, I was still having contractions. About an hour or two later, I went into active labor.

I decided to wait it out before asking the midwife to come over. I figured I would try to take a nap, since I knew that I would be laboring late into the night. Unfortunately, sleep and contractions don't go so well together. I finally broke down and called the midwife.

When the midwife arrived about an hour later and checked me out, I was completely dilated and Amani's head was was ready to come out. The only thing standing between active labor and transition was my bag of waters, which did not seem to want to break. First my midwife tried to break it, but couldn't get a grip, so we decided to try to make the contractions stronger so that it would break on its own. I sat on the toilet to see if that would help. That definitely made the contractions stronger, but my bag of waters wasn't breaking, and the pain was really intense.

Demetrius tried rubbing my back, and he let me hold onto him really tightly, but eventually I decided that the toilet wasn't working. I hopped in the shower for a while like I had planned to, but the water wasn't strong enough to have the effect that I wanted. Demetrius ran a bath for me, and poured warm water directly onto my belly, which helped A LOT. Finally I decided that we should try to manually break the bag of waters again. This time it worked.

After we broke the bag, I lied on my side in the bed for a few minutes. Suddenly I became extremely nauseous and my mom helped me to the bathroom. The midwives heard me vomiting and announced that I had reached transition and it wouldn't be much longer.

At that point, Demetrius and I got in the birthing pool where I would finish laboring. The contractions became stronger and closer together. After a few minutes, I began to get the urge to push. I leaned into Demetrius and held tight as I pushed the baby out. I pushed and pushed, and Demetrius and I constantly checked for the baby. Feeling his little head for the first time was amazing!! I continued to push until he was crowning.

This is where things became the most difficult. Trust me, they don't call it the ring of fire for nothing! He was what is called a compound presentation, meaning he was born with his hand beside his head. Of course this made him a little more difficult to push out. I had to readjust my whole point of view to make it through this part. Rather than concentrating on the pain, I spoke to my son, telling him that he and I had to work together to get him out. I changed positions to make myself more comfortable as Demetrius coached me the rest of the way. Finally Demetrius was holding his head and guiding him out.

Demetrius lifted Amani out of the water and laid him on my chest. This was all the most beautiful thing ever. We got out of the water, we both held him for a while, he nursed, and finally at about 2:30 I delivered my placenta. I continued to breastfeed, and when it stopped pulsating, Demetrius cut Amani's umbilical cord.
After he ate, our midwife checked him out and weighed him. At birth, Amani was 7 lbs, 1.5 oz, and 19 inches long. He was (and still is) the most precious little person I've ever seen.

I feel sooooo fortunate to have given birth to my little angel child. And, even better, I got to have the birth that I wanted. I am eternally grateful to my love, Demetrius, my mom, my midwives, and, of course, to Amani, for supporting me through the pregnancy and throughout the birthing process. Birthing Amani was such a sacred experience, and I will cherish every part of it, every memory, every picture, every stretch mark.

Don't let anyone tell you that home births are not safe, and that you have to subscribe to the medical model and put your pregnancy and birth in the hands of a doctor or a hospital. Don't believe that birth is not possible without drugs, surgeries, and IVs. With the right support, any healthy person can have a natural birth in the environment that suits them the most. You can take charge of your own care and determine what you want your birthing experience to be. I heard so many negative comments when people heard that I was having a home birth. But I put it all out of my mind, knowing that people had been laboring without hospitals for centuries, and continued to do so. And I am beyond pleased with the outcome.

Spend more time, less money

Life is good.  The ancestors always provide.  We didn't know if we would be able to make it two whole weeks on the money we had.  But guess what.  We did!  I think it was an exercise in what we need vs.  what we want.  We spend a lot of extra money on things that we don't need.  You really don't need to make a billion dollars to live.  The key is prioritizing and cutting down on consumption.  Do less needless driving, spend less on gas.  Cook, spend less eating out.  It seems simple enough, but we live in such a convenience culture.  Right now, right now.  Everything must be done right now, and it must be done for me.  But you know what?  When we spend a little more time, inconvenience ourselves a little, not only do we spend less money, but we find we have more time.  More time to do the things that honor us, our families, our communities.  Less time to do the things that do not serve us or the world.  More time in quiet solitude, less time in front of the TV.  More time cooking good food, less time eating fast food-like substances.  More time loving each other, less time bickering and fighting.  More time, I think, is the key (or at least one of them) to healing this world.  But in a society consumed by capitalism, nobody has enough time (or so we think).  Nobody has enough money (or so they tell us with this news that we are in a recession).  People don't even have enough food (as ridiculous as that is).  The Creator is brilliant and magnificent.  She did not put is in a world where time, food, and love would be in short supply.  These are concepts of human invention.  We created it, we can destroy it.  Time is on our side.

Be well!

Responsibility

Yesterday, my family had a gathering that began with a memorial to our ancestors, and ended with a conversation discussing commercial hip hop and it's effect on youth. This was a very telling series of events. It brought me to the statement that so many hip hop artists make to defend themselves when this topic arises: "It is not my responsibility to raise your kids." I hate this statement. It is a cop-out, a way to not take responsibility for one's art. And truly, it's just not true. Because see, no matter how much we might support artistic license, here's the rub: It is the responsibility of every adult, every Black man and woman, to raise this community. It is not a responsibility that one can accept or reject. It is not one that a person can choose or not choose. It simply is. Our ancestors did not choose the responsibility of ensuring a people's survival through the Middle Passage. They did not choose the responsibility of keeping a people's head held high through enslavement and Jim Crow. But had they not lived up to it, where would we be? These are the ones on whose shoulders we stand. If we would only take a moment to look up (look up! look up!), we would realize that, whether or not we like it, there is a generation or more of beautiful African brilliance, standing on our own shoulders. It is when we do not live up to our responsibility to them that the sky falls. Look up!

Odabo!