Before I share Olive’s birth story, I thought I would share my birth story, or rather the story of how my mom gave birth to me.  I’m constantly amazed when I hear birth stories from my mom’s generation because they were just so much tougher back then.  There were no such things as ultrasounds, or epidurals, or pitocin, but somehow everyone gave birth naturally.  This is my mom’s story…

October 29, 1978, 5pm

My mom’s water breaks at home, but her contractions have yet to start.   She walks to the local clinic about half a mile away, and another big gush of water breaks on the clinic floor.  A doctor yells at her, complaining that amniotic fluid smells, throws rags on the floor and tells her and a couple of nurses to clean it up.  She’s told to go to the local hospital to give birth because they’re not equipped to admit her.

My mom goes back home, packs cloth diapers and baby clothes, and heads to the local hospital around 7pm. They admit her because her water has already broken.  Around midnight her contractions finally start, but they are mild so she’s able to sleep until 5am when they become painful.  The doctors make her walk around to speed up labor, even though her contractions are extremely painful at this point.

She is in a very large room with lots of other laboring women, separated by curtains.  Each woman is given an oxygen mask and told to breathe into it continuously, or their baby will die due to lack of oxygen.  As much as every woman in active labor wants to scream, no one lets out a peep for fear of killing their unborn babies.  My mom didn’t know it at the time, but in retrospect she thinks the doctors told the moms this so they wouldn’t have to deal with lots of screaming women in labor.

Finally it’s time to start pushing.  She gets an episiotomy, which was standard for every woman then.  She doesn’t remember the pushing that much, but I was born 3 weeks late at 11am on October 30, 1978, and weighed 5.9 pounds.  She does remember how painful the stitches were (no anesthesia), but she didn’t let out a single sound.  Because she’s tough like that.

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January 21, 1980

When my mom had my brother, her contractions started at 5pm, but she decided to tough it out at home as long as possible because it was the middle of winter in January.  She prepared my bottles, packed diapers and clothes for my soon to be born brother, and did chores around the house.  Around 10pm, all of a sudden her contractions became unbearable, so she decided to head to the local clinic — the same one where her water broke when she was in labor with me.

It was a half mile walk and though she had my dad helping her, the contractions were so painful she couldn’t walk and started crawling.  My dad was so ridiculously skinny that he couldn’t even carry her.  When my mom finally arrived at the clinic around 11pm, she found the midwives laughing and hanging out.  There were no doctors on staff. They checked to see how far she was dilated, and were shocked when they could see the baby’s head!  They told her not to push because they weren’t ready and proceeded to run around gathering all the things they’d need.  My mom got a second episiotomy, and 2 pushes later my brother was born.  My dad was there beside her and remarked that labor was so easy (he didn’t see my birth at the hospital since husbands were not allowed in the labor and delivery room)!

My brother was born just before midnight on January 21, 1980 and weighed exactly 7 pounds.  When my mom asked to see the baby, a midwife carried him over dangling upside down by his feet!  My mom tore even worse this second time around, and she needed a lot of stitches.  The pain was unbelievable, but my mom closed her eyes and remained completely silent while they were stitching her up.  In fact they kept waking her up because she couldn’t possibly endure so many stitches quietly, so they thought she was dead!  Many years later when my mom went to an ob in the States, she was told her stitches were really botched up, so my mom has been prone to kidney infections ever since she had my brother.

The next morning after giving birth, my mom walked home the half mile distance carrying my brother.  After a couple of days rest, my mom was up and about taking care of me, a 14 month old, and my brother.  She remembers that there were no such things as pads back then, so women used cloth diapers that they washed by hand, boiled, and hung to dry in the sun.  And of course she had to wash all the cloth diapers the same way as well.

When I think about how much tougher my mom’s generation was, it makes me feel so lucky/spoiled/fortunate.  I have a washer and dryer.  My mom is doing all the cooking and cleaning, and helping out with Charlie and Olive.  All I have to do is feed Olive and work from home, but I’m still exhausted.  She had to do it all alone and so much more, and she did it without complaining.

Do you know the story of how your mom gave birth to you?  Is your mom tougher than you could ever hope to be?

Natural Birth Stories part 1 of 12

1. My Mom's Birth Story by Mrs. Bee
2. Emma's Birth Story Part 1 by Mrs. Marbles
3. Sam's Birth Story by Birth Stories
4. Baby H's Birth Story by Mrs. Hopscotch
5. Wonder Baby's Birth Story by Mrs. Superhero
6. Toddler Girl's Birth Story by Mrs. Superhero
7. How Baby HH Came to Be... by Mrs. High Heels
8. Baby J's Birth Story by Mrs. Pen
9. Susie's Birth Stories by Birth Stories
10. Baby Confetti's Birth Story by Mrs. Confetti
11. Baby Boy Heels' Birth Story by Mrs. High Heels
12. My Birth Story and Giving Birth Again by Mrs. Chocolate