Gareth Teancum was born on the first of January 2009. It was perhaps not the peaceful experiance that I would have wished, but it did teach me something about my own strength.

To start off, Gareth spent most of his time in the womb fully transverse. This was one of my fears in regards to birthing. My mother's seventh child was taken c-section because of being transverse, and I guess I grew up with the knowledge that any transverse baby had to be taken by c-sec. As I feared c-sections, and as the baby was very wiggly, it occurred to me that the baby might be more than one. I even thought I felt three lumps instead of just two at one point in time. I held on to that hope, because it protected my from my fears. I knew logically that it was most likely a transverse baby. Hiding behind the other didn't help at all.

Well, skip forward to the morning of the 31st of December. Around 10 a.m. I realized that I was having contractions even when sitting. I started walking during the contractions, and around 11:30 I started timing things. My contractions were coming in clusters. I would have a contraction, and then another that started maybe half a minute after the first stopped, then a five minute break before another cluster started. By 1 p.m. the clusters were three contractions with only a three minute rest. After my girls finished their naps, my husband brought them to my sister's house.

By 10 p.m. I was wanting some distractions, so I lay down in the Bradley position, and watched a movie, focusing on relaxing through the contractions. They slowed a bit, but continued. I fell asleep in exhaustion waking only for the contractions, and even then not much. By 1 a.m. I had to tell myself to relax through the contractions, so we moved down to the hot tub. Not long after getting in the hot tub, I threw up-- a sure sign of transition.

I waited and waited to feel the urge to push, but nothing. The contractions became ever more intense, and I started to have the feeling that nothing was happening. It was intensely frustrating. At the time I did notice that it was more comfortable to labor lying on my stomach in the water. However I didn't do it much as I was still worried about positioning. I thought I had things in a good position before and I didn't want things to change. (Hmm, not trusting my body much?)

By 4 a.m. I was panicking. Transition was impossible to relax through, and I still wasn't feeling at all pushy. Kevin suggested that I might want to go to the bathroom. (I was still falling asleep between contractions. At this point he had just caught me as I fell asleep and stopped me from falling face first into the water.) I started insisting that something wasn't right. I knew inside that things were not proceeding how they should.

I went up to the bathroom, and noticed that I was starting to bleed. I about lost it. I started screaming for Kevin. He came and put his hand on my belly to feel if the baby's head was engaged. He could tell that it wasn't when he pushed. I think at this time he dislodged the baby's back from my pelvis.

I insisted that when I started bleeding it was time to go to the hospital. He said ok, but I could tell that he was still reluctant. He came back and gave me a blessing. By this time I was screaming through contractions. I lay down on the bed in the Bradley position, and immediately I started to push. Just like my contractions came in clusters, the pushes also came in clusters of three. I screamed for Kevin, saying that I was pushing and I couldn't stop. I think I was in full war with my body. I could feel something moving down the birth canal and I knew it wasn't the head. I was still afraid of a transverse baby. I kept remembering how my sister was supposed to have stuck her hand out.

Kevin came and put panties and a chemise on me, wrestled me into my bathrobe and started helping me towards the car. A few steps out of my bedroom and I hit the floor on my knees as the second cluster of pushes hit. With the first my water broke (hmm, maybe that was what was in the birth canal?!) I said "My water broke," and Kevin turned around just in time to see a head bulging out of my panties. He helped me rip the panties off one leg while I caught my baby's body as it slid smoothly out of mine. We both stared in a kind of shock at the baby still slick with vernix in my hands. Kevin asked with a kind of wonder in his voice, "Is he alive?" I rubbed his back (yes I did check to see if he was a he, though we thought he was) and he gave a kind of choking cough clearing his lungs. I handed him to Kevin while I ripped off my bathrobe and chemise. Then I held my new baby to my breast. Kevin ran and grabbed a receiving blanket and I covered him and climbed into the bathtub.

After sitting a while in the bathtub, I told Kevin that he was Gareth. Kevin agreed. After a bit more I handed the baby to Kevin while I shifted positions to push the placenta out.

It took some time, but I realized in this birth I faced and conquered my worst fear of homebirth. I will still need to process some of the fear, but just knowing that I did it, that I did something that they say is impossible, that my body was capable of turning the baby when I did listen (lying down after Kevin pushed the baby out of its stuck position) and then it moved fast. I did tear badly. There was no time spent in the birth canal, no gentle stretching, but better that than a c-sec.

Next time I will pay more attention to the baby's position before transition hits. Next time I will work through a few more fears before labor starts. I did learn that. Next time will also be at home.

A few things that I noticed were very different from last time at the hospital. Gareth is a much better sleeper. I do not believe we do our babies a service putting them in a strange place for their first experiance with life. Nor do we do them a service to keep them in the hands of people they will never see again for their first bonding. Gareth is very alert, very attentive. I can see him learn and watch his world. They say baby's don't notice or see. He does. He is very aware.

He is not jaundiced. We did a lotus birth. The cord severed itself three and a half days after birth. He is a beautiful ruddy color. Tatiana was very jaundiced for days. Gareth has all his blood.

Though he did not eat immediately, he is a very good eater. In addition, the birth without all the garbage they pump into you at the hospital, my milk came in three days sooner. THREE DAYS.

Gareth is a beautiful baby. Even those who have had their own babies admit that he is abnormally beautiful. I think it is because he doesn't have the grumpy old man expression on his face that most newborns have. He is serene and happy. Yes, lotus born babies can cry, if they are provoked by extreme cruelty like diaper changes. However he is very confident even with strangers holding him. He has never been forced from me. I think that makes a difference.

Kevin once said that I love Christmas-- it is the best half of the year. I spend months making ornaments and garlands each year. I love the preparation and the thrill. I have many trees and decorations. I love turning my house into a Christmas tree forest.

As for my trees, instead of waiting until after Thanksgiving as usual, and putting up a tree a day for a week or so, I started the first of November. It was a long slow process. I get tired easily, but my house is getting ready, both for Christmas and for baby. Then I put out my nativity scenes, 21 this year I think. That comes after all the trees and garlands are up.

OK, want the list?
Front porch/sun room- Family tree, the tree with all the ornaments that we get over the years, each year. Also for the ornaments my children make. This is right beside the front door. (colored lights)
Across the room on the edge of the couch is the bead tree. This is our first tree and decorated all in beads. I spent half of the first two years of our marriage making the ornaments for it. (white and colored lights mixed.)
Around the seven outer and two inner windows of the front porch is a garland decorated with ball ornaments and colored lights. Over the two doors (one to the outside and one to the living room) are garlands made with holly and burgundy poinsettias. (white lights and purple lights) The front door has two wreaths with nativity scenes, one on the inside and one on the outside. (white lights)

Next the living room- Over the two windows (one to the outside and one to the front porch) are garlands decorated with silver poinsettias and sprays of jingle bells. (colored lights)
By the window is a mini fiber optic disney tree.
On the piano, aside from a huge assortment of nativities is a mini white tree decorated with pastel fairies and snowflakes. (white lights and star lights)
There is a garland across the front of the piano with purple ribbon, white and purple lights and sprays of aurora borealis beads.
There is also a twelve days of Christmas mini tree that will go on the piano.
Next to that is a full size tree that is done all in fairies and dragons. Fantasy is my personal love! That has also some aurora borealis balls on it. (colored lights, in small ball shapes)
Next is a full size disney tree. (colored lights)
Over the door to the hall is a garland with burgundy poinsettias and aurora borealis sprays of beads, and silver sprays and ribbon as well as pinecones. (white lights)

The archway between the living and dining rooms is done in a garland with thick red ribbon, pine cones, red bead sprays and ivy clusters. It has lights that alternate between colored and white.
Under the archway between the two doors to the hall (one from the living room and one from the dining room) is a Victorian themed tree that is done in all cream and gold. Most ornaments are stars or angels, but there are also several cream poinsettias. (white lights)
On the opposite side of the archway, closer to the front porch, but in the dining room is the Nativitree. It is done entirely in nativities and balls with Hebrew names of God. Red ribbon garland. (small ball shaped white lights)
On the other side of the dining room is a tree done in ornaments from the lands of our heritage. Each style of ornament represents a different land. The lights are candles.
The garlands over the windows and closet doors are old fashioned style garlands with many kinds of greenery, pine cones and apples.

In the hall way we have swags with laurel, pearls, roses and aurora borealis beads.

In the kitchen we have swags with pine cones, orange, lemon lime slices, apples, and cookie cutters.

In the hall (used to be bedroom until it fell over from lack of room) I have a tree, my baby tree. It is decorated in tiny baby angels. It has one red crystal heart and one crystal tear for each miscarriage, and one heart and one star for each living child. The garland has silver, pearls (for the pearl of great price Christ talks about) green crystals (for eternal life) and hearts and tears. This is the tree that for me has the most sentiment. (white lights)

Upstairs my girls want me to put a tree decorated entirely in stuffed animals. (colored lights) We will see if they can handle it. -- Note, we actually loaned this tree to a friend now. I decided there was no way they could do a full sized tree with out making a full sized mess.

Also a silver colored mini fiber optic tree decorated in rainbow ornaments.

Ok, there is my Christmas house. Notice, there are not any decorations outside. We have no outside outlets, and though I wouldn't mind gingerbreading the house, I do the decorations for myself, not for the neighbors, so I don't mind not being the most overtly decorated house on the block.

It was slow getting it all up. I am now finished with the trees, except for rearranging some ornaments on the Disney tree that the cats knocked over. It used to take me a day to get a tree up, but this year it took way more. I had to take more frequent breaks. I was almost all done before Thanksgiving, so I can focus on getting the house ready for the baby. I have lots of clothes to sort into girl and boy. I have already pulled out the winter stuff for this year. Unfortunately the girls make messes way faster than I can clean, and I still have to finish getting the hot tub ready. I would like to get one more nativity up, but that might not happen. Oh well, I have my lights and it is beautiful. Now to afford some presents for my girls.

For the past few summers we have noticed that some raccoons have been getting on to our back porch via the cat door and sampling the cats' food. This year to avoid that, we put the cat food inside. Our girls have fortunately outgrown the cats' water mixed with the cat food stage. A few weeks ago, we heard a loud disturbance in the dining room early in the morning. Assuming that cats had just brought in another not-quite-dead prey we ignored the crashes and went back to sleep. What a disaster in the morning! The bread was ripped out of its bag and mauled. The bowl of flowers from Kendall's and Maia's wedding reception was missing half the water (don't worry, we found it all over the table and floor) and the flowers had had all their petals plucked off and scattered. There was more chaos, which we thought weird. Since when do cats maul the bread? Why would they take the cereal out of our church bag on the front porch?

Well, about 5 a.m. the next day, I heard a racket in the kitchen. I went in, and saw a large raccoon trying hard to get at our fruit. Great. The raccoon wasn't happy being denied it's winter food source and had decided to come into our house. Sigh. I grabbed a broom and chased it out. Next morning, we hear a sound at 4 a.m. I told Kevin it was his turn this time. He went in, chased the coon out of the kitchen, but found not just one, but two coons in the house. Really lovely. Now, this time they weren't content to stay chased out. Poor Kevin spent the next few hours chasing one coon after another out of the house.

Well, this time he figured out how to block the cat doors to prevent ingress at night. Several more nights passed coon free, until Sunday night Kevin fell into an exhausted stupor at 6 p.m. following a night of writing a web site. I went to bed at my usual bedtime, and lo and behold, about 5 a.m. here comes a sound from the front porch. I got up, and there was a raccoon, on the monster's aquarium, trying to catch himself an oscar. I grabbed the nearest thing (in this case a fish net) and tried to chase him out. No can do, he ran UNDER the aquarium. Arglefraster! I called Kevin, and he came in, and tried to chase out the coon, hit the coon or anything else. He got several good blows in, and the coon started crying. I didn't know they could cry, but it sounds a lot like a laughing dove. Finally the coon got enough sense to run out the back door.

I hope it was hurt enough that it decided that this isn't the best surf 'n' turf restaurant on the block. So that was our adventure for (hopefully) some time.

Isn't it interesting how our greatest pains are connected to our greatest potential for joy? My greatest trials have been connected to children and family my whole life. I think we see the potential joy (in a way) and so the pain is so much more because of that. I have struggled to have children, struggled to keep the children I have conceived alive, and struggled to adopt and raise my special needs daughter.

I think at one point in time I would have swapped with anyone, but since coming here, I have gotten to know one of my sisters better. As with most of my sibs, she is a fertile myrtle. No problem getting pregnant-- except for the fact that she is married to a monster. She has held her family together for the sake of her children and has worked to try and give them as good a home life as she can.

Me, I have a wonderful husband. He is sweet, kind, caring, just wonderful, but my body doesn't function the way I want it to. Yet, though our trials are so different, they are so much the same.

Another sister of mine wants so much to be married. She would be a wonderful mother, and I don't know why all the men have been blind for so many years. There again, I have found so many similarities in our trials. Both of us struggle with circumstances not completely in our control, and both of us are judged for it, sometimes condemned for it.

If I have learned anything in my years of being here, it is to truly take to heart the words of the hymn "Who am I to judge another/ When I walk imperfectly,/ In the quiet heart is hidden/ Sorrows that the eye can't see."

I hope I have become a better person, less quick to judge. I have learned that circumstances are not always what they seem. Before getting angry and judging someone I try to see if I can figure out a reason for their actions in which they make sense. Maybe that jerk swerving between cars on the highway is trying to make it to his child's school program, or his sick wife. Maybe that woman yelling at her child is dealing with a special needs child who doesn't listen until she is yelled at (heaven knows mine is that way!) Maybe that woman who seems so obsessed with her career, and forgetful of her family is just fearful of them not being supported. There is so much we cannot know about others feelings and motivations. I now try (ok, I am human too) to find more charitable motives for their actions. In the past few years I have been too often on the receiving end of the stares and glares. I have felt the sting of cruel and harsh words from those who could not or would not understand.

Tonight, looking at pictures of family on the web, searching for the right shots of my brothers in law for a scrapbook, my husband (love him dearly) said, "Hey, you really have lost weight!" He was looking at pictures of his brother's wedding around a year ago, and suddenly, the changes were blatantly obvious even to him. You see, my hormones were so out of whack that every pregnancy I would gain weight, but I couldn't lose it. I do not eat fast food, drink soda, or do any of the things that would make you think of an obese person. Yes, my thyroid was tested (not that thyroid tests are accurate, but that is a different story all together.) I could do nothing to get the weight off. Now, I was not stick figured when I married. I have always been busty to put it mildly, lets just say that DDD cups need not apply. Way too small. However, my band size was always 36. Not fat, just full figured, top heavy. My face was slender and my hips and legs were also.

Well, with each miscarriage I gained weight. Not much. Usually a pound or two. It just wouldn't come off. Ever. No matter what. The different fertility drugs packed it on. I remember one experiment they tried when I gained ten pounds in two weeks. Depressing. By the time I got pregnant with Tatiana, I was more than 20 pounds over my marriage weight. I didn't gain much weight with her. Actually I lost a bit early on with all the vomiting. As my mother never gained more than 10-15 pounds with each of us, I figured genetics, and had a healthy baby. I ate good food when I wanted it, always what I wanted and as much as I wanted. I am not a big eater, and this has always worked to keep me going. Well, I didn't lose the weight. Anyone who has given birth knows that you keep the belly for a bit, nice squishy, jello fat. Sigh. It just usually comes off eventually, especially if you breastfeed. I also walked daily. No dice.

With each subsequent miscarriage, the weight added, but as I was getting more nutritionally fit, the duration of the pregnancy lengthened, and the amount of weight I gained increased. It was horrendously depressing. After my year long pregnancy with all the superfetation and how each time I got pregnant, I lost the previous babies, but I just kept growing, well I was now 50 pounds over my marriage weight. My sweet husband never noticed (it pays to marry someone who doesn't notice your hair and clothes etc. There are times you would pay gold for a little unobservance.)

Well, last December I started a cleanse and hormonal balancing. I wrote about all the effects with pregnancy, but what I didn't mention was that I dropped more than 20 pounds in a month. In March I did a bit more hormone balancing, and dropped another few. Meanwhile, the weight starts coming off. I got back to my pre-birth weight. I was so happy. In June when I did the short stint of hormone and brain balancing I dropped 20 pounds in 3 weeks. This is pregnant. I am still eating good food and all I want. I am not dumb enough to go on a diet when pregnant, even if I didn't think it would last. I would NEVER do anything to harm one of my babies. NEVER.

The long and the short is, now, at 4 1/2 months pregnant I am at my marriage weight. My face is slender again, no longer pudgy. My belly is round, but in my loose dresses, no one yet has realized that I am pregnant. I am zaftig enough to hope to go for a few more months before anyone realizes that I am not just gaining weight as long as I stick to the loose clothing. If I were to put on anything with an empire waistline it would be instantly clear that my belly is round not flobby. I hope to have a baby in arms about the time it dawns on people that maybe it is more than fat.

So there is the weightloss secret. No formulas. No dieting. Just healthy eating, and getting your body in balance. My body is picking the weight it wants to be. I don't even get good exercise. I chase my children and then drop from exhaustion. (Lots of that in pregnancy.) I would love to start a more regular walking program, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe when my eldest is in kindergarten on the days that her sister is in pre-school I will be able to walk. Pushing a stroller and stopping every few feet for them to smell flowers or chase a dog isn't great aerobic exercise.

I am feeling great. I know I look better, and that is wonderful. I also feel good. And with all those wiggles in there, it feels like a marching band. Some kicks are even hard enough to make my shirt jump!

Life is interesting. Wow, the understatement! It makes it sound like a stroll through a museum with an academic curiosity, seeing curios and items of value or scientific interest. Life is nothing so tame as a stroll. It is a whirlwind, and, in my case, usually a distressing tornado or events that catipults you from event to event with never a breath or rest. It is emotional and often quite traumatic, intersperced with dabs of joy to allow survival.

Since my last miscarriage, I have been waiting to miscarry this time. I know it is a bad habit, and I have come to expect it. Each pregnancy I spend my time thinking, "How can I improve next time?" It is the only thing that keeps me sane. The thought that I can move forward, and that even though I will lose another baby (or more) next time, next time, next time. My mantra.

It's sad really. I really don't enjoy the moment. Oh, that isn't to say that I never have. I do remember a delicious day in December of '02 that I just reveled in the feeling of the otherness inside of me. It was a wonderful day. I knew I would miscarry, but the miscarriage before I had railed at my child telling it to leave sooner rather than later, screaming mentally about the pain that the loss would cause me. When I lost that baby at 10 weeks I felt so incredibly guilty that I couldn't stand it. I realized then that each time was a gift and I needed to treasure it. Too bad I didn't remember it after all the pain of the past few years.

As I started to say, I miscarried in March. The miscarriage in February was the one that gave me the proof of the superfetation with the two distinct placentas of different ages. In March I took a female formula that I realize now can actually act as birth control (which can cause miscarriages.) Well, in April I conceived. No surprises there. I rather enjoy the physical side of my relationship with my husband. What is more, I think he enjoys me too.

Well, in late April I started having pregnancy symptoms. They were a tad spotty. Not as solid as I would have liked, and faded much more quickly than they did with Tatiana. (Of course with her, I had so many drugs and hormones in my system that I threw up the entire nine months.) Well, I figured that this time, like so many others, I would miscarry. I waited. Each day I expected the bleeding to start. In early June I felt impressed to do a minor cleanse with some more female formula and brain formula. Again, I waited.

In late June I felt some odd cramps. No, actually they felt more like contractions. Ok, that was fine with me. I have had more than one miscarriage that felt like full transitional labor. I could go forward. I continued to check. I wondered if things had gone far enough that I would actually have a water break like happened in February. More contractions on occasion in July. I started taking raspberry. Hey it is good for everything female, so why not?

I waited. Meanwhile, starting in June, every aspect of my life started falling apart. The leader of our congregation said some cruel things to me that sounded like he was condemning me (and in the name of GOD!) I think I understand better why this happened, and what I can learn from it, but for a couple of weeks I turned my face to the wall. I have never felt so completely like I wanted to die. I think if it had continued, I might have. I didn't eat. No desire. I couldn't walk without getting dizzy and bumping into walls. I know my husband was worried, and it put an unbelievable strain on our marriage. Things that I thought solid were falling apart.

Actually it was his weakness that rallied me. I can do something if I have a reason, so I did pull myself back together, but the strain was incredible. Alayna started acting out in intollerable ways. She became so cruel to her sister that we had to keep them separated. We got sued. You name it, my life was falling apart. Everything, and all at the same time. I had nightmares of going into court and starting to miscarry there in front of the judge.

I started to pray harder, we figured out a solution for our daughters, and they are again together, though not yet at bedtime. Our marriage is stronger, though we are still rebuilding, I hope to make it stronger than it was the first time. The suit is still up in the air, but, after all that has happened, I have to say the people are more important than the money, so whatever happens, we will survive.

Well, as we started to prepare things for Alayna to go to kindergarten, I noticed some very odd feelings in my stomach. It took me a few days. Any movement before I had written off to gas, as I was sure I had lost the baby. Well, no longer. There is no denying the movements, strong, healthy definate baby movements. Each week of complete exhaustion corresponds to a week of extreme growth. I am now almost 22 weeks by my best estimate. The baby is due in the winter. I am hoping for this year, but the baby might decide on next.

I am still in shock. I don't think I will tell anyone. I have told one sister, the only one that really knows about the superfetation and understands and believes. I haven't told my daughters, they have asked, but I have said to not say anything to anyone, and they drop it and forget. I can see the difference in my shape. I wear big dresses (bought before I lost all the weight this year through the cleanses (hey I am down to my marriage weight, even with the pregnancy!!!!) so I don't really show. I just don't tie them in back, leaving them loose and baggy, and I think I can go another couple of months before even my sisters start to suspect.

With all the negativity that I have had, all the abuse, suspicion and cruelty, I don't want to tell people. I don't wan the hope and the disappointment. I don't want the doctors telling me that homebirth is evil and dangerous. I still like doing the research for myself. I still like to make my own choices. I still want a homebirth. Waterbirth. Just me and my husband, together to welcome our child, alone as we were when my baby, our baby was created.

Today the girls were playing outside, came in wet from the rain, and asked to take a bath. I went in to draw the bath and realized that I hadn't cleaned the tub since I dyed the curtains in it a few days ago. I started cleaning the tub and my girls stripped in anticipation of a bath. Well, about the time that I am rinsing out the tub, the doorbell rings, and out runs Alayna, naked as a jaybird. I ushered her back in the bathroom and told her to close the door. It was just the meter reader, but it definitely makes me laugh.

It also puts me in mind of another time when I wasn't so fast. One Sunday morning, my dh and I were still lying in bed, kinda fuzzy and not quite wanting to get out of bed. We heard the girls get up, heard them go to the bathroom and start their mornings with giggles. Just then, the doorbell rang. I scrambled to get on clothes as fast as I could while I heard Alayna throw open the door and burst into our bedroom-- naked. I ran out and found at the door a middle aged woman, looking thunderstruck. She told me she was a Jehovah's witness, thrust a tract into my hands, and practically sprinted away. I was torn between laughter at her reaction and a necessary scolding for Alayna. I wish it were safe in this world for a naked child to run free, but unfortunately, it isn't even safe for a child to open the door.

Last Tuesday I started bleeding. Just a few spots, but I knew from the cramps that I had been having that a miscarriage was immanent. Let me back up. I got pregnant in November. Did a cleanse in December with stuff to help balance hormones. Got pregnant just after the cleanse in December, but started having definite pregnancy symptoms, breast tenderness, nausea, the works. I thought that maybe because of the cleanse and the balancing this time superfetation (I knew the November babies were gone) wouldn't cause me to lose all my children. I hoped-- right up until I ovulated again at the end of January.

That crushed me. I was so upset for days. I prayed that this time if I needed to miscarry, I would miscarry cleanly and have a new start. I didn't want to deal with the superfetation and the constand flux of hormones. Imagine always being 4-8 weeks pregnant! BLAH!!! It is miserable.

Well, on Wednesday afternoon, just after I had picked my girls up from preschool, the pain got bad. I put them with Disney and prepared to take a hot bath to sooth the aches and cramps. Just as I was about to climb into the tub, the doorbell rang. GO FIGURE. It was my sister looking to borrow some craft item. I ran to look for it, and while I was looking and running around, my water broke. I couldn't believe it. I have never had a water break with a miscarriage before. It wasn't a huge amount of water, not like when a baby is born, but it was more than enough to soak my pad and my pants.

I told my sister that I couldn't find it and ran to the bathroom. Thankfully she left quickly. I love my sister, but this was one time that I wanted NO company. I started to get into the tub, and noticed that I was gushing blood. No little bit, it was coming fast.

I had only been in the tub a few minutes when the water was already dark red. (A note, contrary to what you may think, water turns greenish first when bleeding into it, or at least with menstrual blood.) It takes a lot to turn it red. I could see the streams of red coming from between my legs. I got the phone, dripping all the way, and quickly called my husband. I told him that I was bleeding too much, and that I needed him home just in case.

I got my glass of raspberry tea that I had just made and added some drops of false unicorn and lobelia, the miscarriage herbs. I sank back into the bath, occasionally adding a bit of hot water.

In the bath I was comfortable, and fine. I rested until suddenly I had an urge to stand. I just wanted to lean against the walls of the tub. I stood and leaned and felt a placenta slide out of me. Dizzy and weak, I sank back down into the tub, and fished around for the placenta (the water was so dark that there was no way for me to see it.) I found it, and it was consistent with a two month old pregnancy, a beautiful placenta.

I held it for a minute, looked at it to see if it was complete, and found places where two babies had been implanted. I suddenly had the urge to taste the placenta. (A known aid for hemorrhaging, but I was not cognoscente of that at the time.)

About that time my husband walked in the door. All desire to taste the placenta left, and I again wanted chlorella. I had wanted it just before I gave birth to the placenta, but I felt like I was too weak to risk standing and walking around. He quickly got a heavy mixture in grape juice for me, and I started sipping it. I am amazed at how fast my energy started to return. Chlorella is one of the best blood builders out there. Also, my bleeding started slowing about that time.

Tired of sitting in a pool of blood, I rinsed off and moved to the bedroom. The pain was horrendous. It was labor pain, full labor (transition) but without the comfort of knowing a baby was coming into the world. I couldn't find a position to be comfortable in. I wreathed and moaned. I also asked my dh for a blessing.

Immediately after the blessing, I took my chlorella juice (very tastey by the way) and moved back to a fresh tub of water. The difference was instantaneous. As soon as I was in hot water, the pain was gone. However if I allowed the water to cool off too much (our house is old and always is cool in the winter, so the water cools off fast) the cramps made themselves manifest again.

After sitting in the tub for a while, I felt a weird pressure and thought I might have to have a bowl movement. I moved to the toilet and gave birth to a second placenta. This one, instead of being new and red was older, larger and a dark purple. It was webbed with white membranes. It looked as if it had been dead for a while. This is the clearest demonstration that I have ever had, a real validation for me that the superfetation has happened.

Also, this is a testimony for me that water birth is absolutely the way that I want to go. It was so clear to me when I had to move, and what position my body wanted to be in. How can anyone doubt that a woman's body is capable of birth on its own?!