Chantal Kreviazuk shares Salvador's birth story and new photos
Canadian chanteuse Chantal Kreviazuk, 34, and hubby Raine Maida of Our Lady Peace welcomed their third son Salvador Daniel, on Saturday, June 28th. In Chantal’s final exclusive-to-CBB pregnancy column, she shared her birth plan and hopes for delivery. Here, she relays to Celebrity Baby Blog readers the events of the birth and tells us that she did indeed stick to her original birth plan, going natural and drug-free. The LA-based singer/songwriter is also mom to Rowan Michael, 4 ½, and Lucca Jon, 3.
My husband and his band had a date booked — probably over a year ago — for a show in Prince Edward Island, on the East Coast of Canada, for the 30th of June. When we found out that we were having a baby, and that the due date was just two weeks after this show, there was a slight wave of panic that floated over us. Both of my other babies came two and three weeks early.
Continue reading for the rest of Chantal’s birth story, including Lucca’s reaction to the labor and more photos of baby Sal.
Cut to it being the 26th of June, and the baby has not arrived. Now I am PANICKED, and I am certain I am going to be in the delivery room alone. This feeling of panic is compounded by the fact, that I have this little "birth plan" going, and a lot of my fuel is coming from the given fact that Raine will be in the birthing room. Not good. I went in for my routine weekly visit to the OB, and told her that I had been having tons of cramping for a week, lost my — hate this word — mucous plug, and that it just felt like the baby was coming. But there was no baby!! I told my doctor (this is Thursday, people) that I was very stressed about my husband not being with me for the birth, and how he was scheduled to be gone on Saturday for two nights.
I was now 2 centimeters dilated, and the doctor did feel that we were getting close. So she stripped my membrane. I was not prepared for this. I thought it would be just like when they check to see if you are dilating, and sort of nose around in there and get things going. I was wrong. Holy, does that hurt. I called my friend and past OB/GYN from the same office when I got home, and asked her if I could expect that 7-10 cms would be any worse than the intense pain I felt when I got the membrane stripped. (I was unable to get any drug until about 7 cms in the past two births.) Her response — "MUCH WORSE!" So much for my understanding that if I had gone to 7, I could do it without the epidural. Now I was scared.
The doctor suggested a shortlist of activities to get my labor going, now that she had stripped the membrane. Friends of mine had said that after getting theirs stripped, the baby came within a few days. There was time! Maybe Raine and I would be together for the birth! The other advice the doctor had, in case Raine was gone and the baby had not come, was to just get in bed and relax, even have a bit of wine to relax the uterus, etc. I did everything the doctor suggested to get labor going over the next few days. Swam, walked, was active, active, active! Didn’t work! I was crying on Friday night at 10:30 p.m. Raine was leaving in the morning. I was just devastated.
I was thinking of all the soldiers who are separated from their partners for the deliveries of their babies, or just generally how this was a reality for many people who have a job that takes them away from home. I was trying to be rational, and not a spoiled brat, but I was just devastated. At 12:30 a.m., we had been asleep for an hour or so. Raine and I had stayed up for a little while talking about my birthing fears; trying to get a handle on my motivation for wanting a totally uninterrupted labor. We were also discussing his role in the labor and delivery process, and the support I felt I needed to make it happen according to the "plan."
Rowan came in the room with a very high fever — 103*. We were focusing on getting him cooled down, when suddenly … MY WATER BROKE! I went to the bathroom, and was just sitting on the toilet letting the water all come out in spurts, just like it had done when I was in labor with Rowan. Lucca came to the bathroom and said in his sweet little voice, "Mommy, I have to pee." I said "Hold on honey, mommy has to sit here, the baby is coming." He tried to look down under me, and said, "OUT? THE BABY IS COMING OUT?" I will never forget it. It was so cute.
I got on the phone with the doctor. She thought it would take about an hour or so for regular contractions to begin. She was right. We called the sitter, and let my mom know that we were leaving for the hospital once we were ready to go. When we got to the hospital, the security guard was so kind, he said congratulations and gave us directions for getting on the ward in the middle of the night. He said they were expecting us! I was so excited. Raine was with me, and it was only now 2:30 in the morning, so chances were pretty high that he’d be there the whole time until the baby came. Divine intervention? Nah, just the membrane being stripped probably, but still pretty awesome.
We got into our room, and slowly met the staff on the night shift. I liked everyone so much instantly. However, it was not really as important to them that I go without pain medication as it was to me, and I think Raine in particular was a bit miffed that they were not as supportive of this. I actually didn’t mind. I thought that they were compassionate, and had the right idea — that everyone is different, and that they would be willing to support me if I stayed on the path, but that they don’t like to see people suffer.
I realized a while ago that I had to re-form pain and suffering into something that was good and natural, and that my attitude was the one thing that would stand between me achieving my goal of going without the epidural, and not achieving it. I also knew that realistically, every birth story goes down differently, and that if it was not meant to be for me to do it totally naturally, I would submit to that reality. I knew that the safe arrival of the baby was the most important thing. Just knowing that there would be a birth ultimately was enough, and it was to be a bonus, in my mind, if I could be privileged enough to experience it naturally. It would just have meant that the stars were aligned. I was not going to lose respect for myself, or be bitter at all if I was unable for any reason (including not being able to handle the intensity) to go without drugs.
For the weeks prior to labor, I had envisioned my mindset for the labor: I would be observing the fascinating natural process, rather than being frantic inside of it. This worked well as the contractions began to intensify; however, the nurse’s first checking of my cervix proved that I was still at 2 cms, so I knew there was some work to be done. I was intimidated. There was a woman making some pretty primal sounds in the room next to me, and I was told that she was at 3 cms, but had been there all night. It was her first baby. Now she was a trooper.
I think I told Raine, "If I am in a lot of pain at 3 cms, I don’t think I will be able to do this." The labor nurse needed me on the monitor for a half hour, and then I could be free. However, I was able to stand up and walk around. I myself did not feel up for going and doing contractions in the hallway, etc. I just wanted to be in our room, in our own space. I love the intimacy that the baby coming creates. All my labors have been late at night, and there is something strangely romantic about it.
Raine had not slept yet, and I knew he had a long day of travel ahead of him, so I told him that I would awaken him when I really started needing him. He was never really sleeping, but I wanted him to just lay there and relax. I liked knowing that he was right there if I needed him, otherwise, I loved sort of being on my own, undistracted. As the contractions intensified, I discovered wonderful ways that my body had inside of it to diminish pain, transform anxiety and discomfort, and get on a path of motivation and inspiration! I realized that when the contractions came, my whole body was contracting.
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My labor was no different than the other babies’ labors. It looked and felt identical. It progressed exactly the same way. The only difference here, again, was my attitude. I was not assuming that an anesthetist was coming. And to be honest, even when people continually asked me if I was getting an epidural, I would say the words … "I AM NOT GETTING ONE, DO NOT GET ME ONE," even though I didn’t even believe me 100%. So now, the only thing that was different was the fact that I was on a path, kind of like a long distance run you decide to take, even though you don’t really think you can do it, you find yourself on that trail, running, doing what you thought was impossible. There I was. My whole body tensing up with each contraction. I didn’t like that.
I realized that I needed the rest of my body to relax and go super zen and chilled out while the contraction was happening. Just because my uterus was contracting, didn’t mean that the whole of me needed to turn into a contraction. I would take a breath, and then I would exhale through the whole contraction to a very, very deep place. I would close my eyes and imagine the ultimate surrender, realizing that this too would pass, like all things, and very soon. It was working.
As the labor progressed, I honored a little Aboriginal Canadian cultural trait in the women … my grandmother, who was Métis (one of three recognized Aboriginal peoples in Canada), just passed away in March. I am very interested in my ancestry, and I have been told by my aunts, who are nurses, that the native women are quiet during labor. Now, I understand. It is total and utter trust in nature to go into a very quiet and peaceful place. So, I did all of my contractions — up until transition — silently.
Raine did not know I was having a contraction unless I told him it went by! It was so neat. I would close my eyes, keep pushing out this long deep breath, and I would imagine going into a cool dark lake, a place very isolated from everything in the world. Another visual I had was the Downy commercials, where they show a fluffy blanket or towel landing in slow motion in the laundry basket. How it sort of reverberates as it lands super gently. That may sound so crazy to most, but it really worked for me. I imagined being beneath the contraction, and yet the contraction itself being flat and soft and not threatening rather than this big, intense, overpowering thing and that is what it became.
I noticed that when I went into a very good space, and received and embraced and submitted to the contraction, it was totally doable. THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN I HAD TO PUKE! I told Raine I was going to vomit, he hopped up and started to look for a bucket. He went and got the nurse, and he said to her, "My wife seems like she is far along. She is kind of like how she was just before getting an epidural at 7 cms on the last births." The nurse asked me to get on the bed so she could check me. She told Raine and I that I was at 7 cms, and we cried. We had "done it." My motivation went up so high when I heard that I was at 7. I could not believe how rewarding that felt. I had done the work!
By this time, it was probably about 4:35 in the morning. All of a sudden I felt the baby go down my body. It was so intense. Now he felt stuck there, and it was really intense and overwhelming. I was no longer as cool and collected. The nurse checked me again, and I was at 8-9 cms dilated. Now Raine was super excited, and I was petrified from the intensity. He was saying I had done it, and I was saying, "I haven’t done it, I cannot do it, and get me the pain meds now." I could not do it. I no longer thought this was a good idea. I said I was going to faint, and the nurse said I wouldn’t, then I said I would die now, and again she said I would not die.
The nurses said my doctor was on the way. I said I could not hold the baby in anymore, and I had an overwhelming sensation, overpowering desire to bear down. Wow, it was so intense. The nurses told me to wait, the doctor would be here in a second, and we’d push then. I said I couldn’t hold on. I heard someone run down the hall. I screamed my doctor’s name. It wasn’t her. I was now in a total state of panic wondering where the hell the doctor was.
She screamed in the room. I told her, "HE’S COMING NOW, MARIA." She put on her gloves, and said "Ok, ready?" The girls tried to get me to give them my legs, and I couldn’t imagine moving. It was so bizarre. I let them just pick up my parts and shift me, as I could not. They kept telling me I could do things that I could not — these women who had earlier told me that they did not see the point in my suffering if I didn’t need to. But now they were letting me know that I could do it, and that it was too late for an epidural, and that it would be fine. I took a huge breath, and imagined not hurting myself, and being super strong and gentle and even all in the same moment, and I pushed that baby out in ONE BIG LONG push!!!
Now, I HAD to, because I couldn’t withstand any more of the sensation of the place I was in. I figure the other women who push for a while, well, maybe they are stronger than me! I personally had,had enough!! I think I was in a state of shock when the baby came out. I didn’t really react to him right away, per se. It is so wild to be in such a crazy place, and then all of a sudden there is a baby, and it is all over. Miraculous. I really think I was in shock! We did it. I don’t know what more to say really, that is it.
I was certain during 10 cms/transition that doing it uninterrupted was a mistake, and I VOWED never to have a child again! But now that it has been 3 days — actually, about 2 minutes after — I was and have been elated that that is how it went down. People talk about a ring of fire. I didn’t experience that, so I guess everyone is different. For me it was mind over matter. The next day, a lady described how she got to 9 cms, and felt the baby coming down, and found it too much and got the drugs in the end. I thought, well, that is where I was, but I still did it. Having said that, maybe she did feel more pain, and they let her get the drugs because they felt she really couldn’t do it. It is a complicated thing.
Anyway, I will say this: Now that I have done it uninterrupted, I feel like the president of a company who knows what he is talking about and doing, because he has been the janitor, the guy who goes to get the coffee, the accounts payable dude and the highly paid executive. I really feel like I know my way around this particular office, and honestly, I TOTALLY get why people get pain meds, and I TOTALLY get why they don’t.
I have done it both ways, and I am really glad I have.
Photos exclusively for use on the Celebrity Baby Blog courtesy of Chantal Kreviazuk. Use elsewhere is prohibited without permission.
