Birthing Emmi: An Ecstatic Birth Story

“Ring of fire!” our midwife announced. Endorphins raced through my body as I stood up from the toilet seat–where I had been pushing for the last thirty minutes. My fingers reached down and felt the head of my little one crowning between my vulva as I roared fiercely through the ecstatic push. “Ugggggh!” My baby was on his way through my vagina and the force of our bodies (and gravity) was bringing him closer. 

The Energy of Birth

Birth is sensual. From the moment you decide to bring a living creature to the world, to the surrendered sex that leads to conception, to a living body growing lavishly inside of your womb, to that moment of climax when your baby slides out of your birth canal–you are a living space of fluidity and sensuality that’s embodied throughout this journey known as birth.

I didn't come to this conclusion because I had a pain-free birth–oh Hell no! I went into labor spontaneously after dancing and singing my ass off and then, after 36 hours–yes thirty-six hours–of steady waves of contractions at home, I birthed Emmi. It was the most intense, challenging, and ecstatic experience of my life. It was the most EMBODIED experience of my life.

What do I mean by “embodied”? Simply put, I speak of embodiment in birth to describe how the experience leads us to live fully in touch within our bodies instead of existing only in our heads. This is true of dance, movement, song, and sex as well: all bridges to reconnect with our hearts and bodies, inviting us to connect with our ancestors and the most primal part within.

Childbirth is nature’s raw initiation ceremony for motherhood. The grounded energy of birth aligns us with our instincts and later serves as a reminder of what we have the power to do as mamas: anything!

Letting Go

My birth story begins in my living room: It was Friday night and my parents had come to visit our home. I’d been embedded with tension for several weeks. You see, it was almost two weeks past my due date, and some people would ask us if the baby had arrived, leveling up my stress levels each time. I also had people affirm that my baby would come at the right time, but the desire to have my baby felt too overwhelming to trust in the rhythms of nature.

I tried all the natural remedies I knew to induce my labor. I ate dates, exercised, drank special teas, received nipple stimulation, massaged my womb with special oils (just to name a few). 

But that night I stopped trying. I loosened up and danced while singing salsa, musicals, cumbia, and old rock songs. We played a game where each of us sang a solo to a tune we would make up on the spot. I was in a state of flow–lost in the singing, fully in the moment–when I felt my first contraction.

“Shhhhhhhhh!” My face focused as I exerted that sound, feeling into this sudden wave that continued for several seconds. Once that surge was over, my parents joked that this was my way of making a percussion instrument sound. “Shhhhhhh!,” they imitated my sound, taking it lightly while secretly all of us hoped that this meant that my labor was commencing. 

We laughed and laughed and then we began watching a movie until we got tired and eventually went into different rooms. Oscar and I closed the door of our bedroom and I noticed that the initial surge that led me to do that “shhhhhh” sound had continued coming every twelve minutes or so during the last hour. I breathed and made light moaning sounds as I dropped into the following surges for a couple of hours. I danced through new labor positions: the open leg position in my toilet, squatting, slow rocking with Oscar, and sensuous hip circling both standing up and sitting down on our yoga ball. 

Suddenly there was nausea and my body began to tremble. Oscar called our doula Melissa. Her voice at 3 AM felt calm and reassuring. She recommended I sniff peppermint oil for the nausea and she said this would be a good time to play a playlist that I liked while taking a warm bath. My body relaxed. Oscar filled the bathtub, dimmed the lights, and set the mood for me to ease into those early contractions. 

I soaked in the water with wonder, while warm waves went and returned rhythmically. My face sparkled with pleasure as I laid back, smiling with contentment. “This is happening,” I thought.

Eventually, I tucked myself into bed in the midst of recurring contractions. The hours continued to pass as I moaned out loud with each one of them. When the sun shined through the window that morning Oscar went to the next room to catch some rest. I spaced myself out in bed and placed multiple pillows between my legs and arms while laying on my side. I finally dozed off for a few moments and man was I grateful to get rest.

When I got out of bed I continued my day as normal, allowing myself to stop and moan each time I felt those contractions. My mom joked that my dad was castigado en el cuarto, acting as if he was in “time out” in the room since she bluntly laid out to him that I needed my space as I was in early labor.

I remember laughing deeply as he and I came face to face with each other in the hallway. He reacted by freezing and comically moon dancing back to his room. I cracked up and said to him, “Papi, you can be around, just know that I’ll be moaning through my contractions all day.” 

Saying Yes

Then evening came and something changed: my contractions were beginning to intensify to the point where I couldn't get comfortable no matter what position I was in. When is this gonna end? I’d think, feeling dreadful with fear and sadness. If only these contractions could stop for just a little bit… if only I could take a nap. My wishful thinking, of course, only created more suffering. 

I noticed at that moment how much my mind urged me to stop the pain, to run away from everything I was going through. “Run toward the intensity,” my doula texted, “the only way is through”! It was then that I decided to let go and surrender by accepting the waves.

It wasn't long till Melissa came over. I remember her walking into the house like an angel who greeted me with compassionate eyes that seemed to understand what I was going through without being in labor herself. I hugged her and cried on her shoulder, “this is hard,” I told her. 

The rest of the night I remember what seemed to be an endless dance of moving into different positions to ease the discomforts of those hard contractions. At times my full body trembled in fear.

I was now lying in bed trying to doze off though it felt nearly impossible with the strength of those surges. Melissa caressed my back and she breathed and moaned deeply with me through every contraction for hours. 

Daylight eventually came through the windows and I remember feeling the weirdness of time like I had been in a twilight zone where day and night meshed together through the ticking of my body's waves. 

That morning was incredibly challenging. I sank into different positions, and the surges' strength led me to vomit everything I ate (including ice pops). I was scared for my life. I needed to sleep and keep my food intake or how else would I have the energy to birth this baby? Oscar and Mel kept bringing cups of water for me to sip on; hydration was a must!

Melissa continuously reminded me to “sit with” each contraction despite how freaking hard it was at this point. I remember how powerful I felt as I experienced sitting in a squat as I yelled while feeling into one of the most intense waves that morning. I had accepted this contraction. “Saying yes” to this contraction made it bearable, even maybe somewhat satisfying?

As the contraction flowed away, Mel softly continued reminding me to let go of that past contraction, focusing on the present moment. “We don’t need that one anymore,” she’d add, allowing me to welcome the few minutes of rest in between the next contraction, the next one, and the next one.

At this point, my surges stretched between 5 and 7 minutes and I wasn't advised to go to the birth center until they were 4 minutes apart. It wasn't until 10:30 in the morning when I heard the gush of my water breaking that I felt some relief. Suddenly my surges came every couple of minutes until I sat into a squatted position and moaned loudly and grunted, “I'm gonna push this baby out!” 

Melissa rushed out of the room as I changed and she announced, “Priscilla is ready to go, I will follow you guys in my car in case we have to pull over!” Oscar drove me as I felt the urge to push through each contraction during that 25-minute drive. 

I arrived at the birthing center and ran to the examination room where Tammy, our midwife, checked my dilation. I spread my legs apart and laid back–” Are you sure you want to know how dilated you are?” she asked. What the hell? I had nothing to lose.

“Yes! Tell me!” I said out loud. Tammy checked me, smiled, and quickly exclaimed, “What about 10 centimeters?!” Oh My God. I looked at Melissa and cried with relief. The wait was almost over. 

Ecstasy

Aligned with my instincts, I ran to the birthing room, threw off my dress, sat on the toilet, and opened my legs through my next loud contraction. These were no longer contractions, they were pushes, and I was ready to push my baby Earthside. 

Energized and full of adrenaline, I pushed with all my might, and then some. I noticed as I pushed that there was a larger force pushing the baby downward towards my vagina as I finished pushing in my strength. It was as if I gave 30% of the push through all of my concentrated energy, and then my own body–my womb–and my baby created a higher intensified push for me.

I was a lioness. And all of my insecurities disappeared at that moment as I became the most embodied, animalistic version of myself that I had known. I was 100% in my instincts. Still, after that first push, I looked at my doula and asked her, ”I can do this, right?”. “You can do this–and you will!,” her eyes pierced into mine and I knew this was true.

My baby’s head was now visible after a couple of those primal pushes. “¡La cabecita!,” Oscar said, “I see the head!” His eyes glittered, his wide grin inspiring excitement as he watched the baby’s head crown. “I can do this!” I told myself.

I had asked my midwife to massage my perineum as I pushed to help ease the baby out, and it felt so soothing between each push. I felt her fingers and the coconut oil massaging my vagina. My doula encouraged me to touch myself and feel my baby’s head too. This felt so powerful. I had full agency over my birth and body.

I stood up and–“Uggggggggh!!!”–groaned a primal, deep roar one last time as I gave that final fervent push! Water blasted out of me and Emmanuel slid out speedily. Oscar caught him in that which felt like the quickest microsecond of our lives. He gave the baby to me in an instant and I held his naked body tightly to mine.

I walked to the bed–blood and fluids that once were in my baby’s former home oozed heavily down my thighs–as I held Emmi in my arms. Our umbilical cord still connected my body to his as I sat and then lay on the bed.

I caressed and stared at my newborn as new mothers do. Te amo, te amo, te amo, I cried. The oxytocin hormone (also known as the hormone of love) flooded through my body, providing deep relief and feelings of bliss. I felt so connected to my baby Emmi.

My wise baby quickly latched onto my breast and sucked while holding my breast with his hand. The smell of his body on mine, the smell of our birth, was heaven to me. Oscar and I sang “Las Mañanitas” to him, and I repeatedly told our baby how much I loved him as we welcomed him into this world.

My birth was an ecstatic birth and I am so grateful to have been given the blessing of issuing the beginning of my motherhood journey through my most embodied experience yet–birthing Emmi.