If someone deserves a little happiness today, I think it’s Niki Taylor. The 33 year-old (to be 34 on Thursday!) American supermodel and enterpeneur has had her share of mishaps and misfortunes. But on Wednesday morning, she delivered a healthy baby girl. Things are looking up.

Ciel Taylor Lamar joins older brothers, 14 year old twins Jake and Hunter (born to Taylor and her first husband, Matt Martinez). Born in Nashville, little Ciel weighs 7 and a half pounds.

“Everyone is doing amazing,” says Niki’s friend and long-time manager, Lou Taylor. (Despite the last name, the two are not related.) As yet, not many details have been released, including whether the baby was delivered naturally or c-section. However, in a recent interview, Taylor was hopeful. “I had the worst pain I could imagine after [a 2001 car] accident and surgeries,” she said. “I can do natural childbirth!” She would not have been able to have an epidural due to rods placed in her spine following the accident, which nearly took her life, but luckily, spared her face–and career.

Taylor and husband Burney Lamar (a Nascar driver) were married in 2006 after a whirlwind courtship of 3 months. The two celebrities met while signing autographs. They shared three dates and were engaged! But while the two were eager to have a child together, it took a little longer than the supermodel hoped. “Every month it wasn’t happening I was feeling more frantic,” she said. When she confirmed the pregnancy finally, she said, “I am so happy and ready…I am in such a wonderful place in my life that I can really enjoy it all.”

Despite astounding success as a model (she signed her first contract at age 13, and 400 covers later, it’s been uphill from there!), her life hasn’t always been as wonderful as it is right now. Beginning with the demise of her first marriage at the age of 20, Taylor has shouldered a lot of burdens in her adult life, including the death of her younger sister Krissy, a life-threatening car crash, and a struggle against prescription painkillers.

Her May 2001 car accident caused severe internal injuries including a collapsed lung and liver damage. She awoke six weeks later, underwent 56 surgeries as well as extensive physical therapy. The ordeal, however, jump started her faith. Taylor was featured in the May 2006 issue of Guideposts Magazine as she vowed never to miss another Mother’s Day and fought to survive in order to raise her twins.

The model, the driver, the twins, and the baby-in-belly can be seen in magazines this month in advertisements for Sketchers shoes. I’m happy to see that she is back in the game of life. I hope this baby, this birthday are the start of a great year with great things ahead.

Congratulations, Niki and Burney! Happy Birthday, Ciel! And Happy Birthday, Niki!

A new documentary titled Orgasmic Birth made the rounds of worldwide film festivals in 2008 and now the concept is getting mainstream coverage in a report on ABC’s 20/20 news show. The same show also featured segments on breastfeeding and the trend of home births with little or no medical intervention.

In the 20/20 segment, one midwife reported that, in an informal, non-scientific survey, 21 percent of the women had orgasms during labor. Even taking into account that women using a midwife rather than a conventional obstetrician are more likely to have the type of birth that would encourage an orgasm, this number seems high.

Then again, it is called “childbirth’s best-kept secret.”

The film was produced by Debra Pascali-Bonaro, a childbirth expert, 26-year speaker in childbirth education, and a Lamaze-certified veteran in maternity care, as well as the mother of three sons. The film won the Audience Choice Award at the 2008 Motherbaby International Film Festival in Bermuda.

The film, available for sale now, chronicles the birth stories of 11 different women. Births include home births, water births, and all-natural, mid-wife assisted births in hospital-affiliated birthing centers. The film features commentary from renowned experts in the field of midwifery, obstetrics and natural childbirth, including Christiane Northrup, MD, Ina May Gaskin and Elizabeth Davis. In spite of the title, the film is not pornographic, but is explicit and intimate.

Orgasmic childbirth is not a new idea but the film is the first truly intimate exploration of the feat. In her book In Labor, author Barbara K. Rothman writes, “Birth has much in common with orgasm; the hormone oxytocin is released, there are uterine contractions, nipple erection, and under the best circumstances for birth, an orgasmic feeling.”

Every mother has experienced the euphoria after her child is born, the great feeling of accomplishment, the surge of hormones, an exhausted, exhilarated state. But it’s possible to achieve those emotions during the birthing process, as well.

The filmmaker says the natural childbirth methods used to achieve an orgasmic birth are statistically safer than the standard delivery methods involving drugs and that often result in emergency c-sections, practiced today in many parts of the world.

The film’s Web site publishes reader-submitted ecstatic or orgasmic childbirths, and each has something in common—the mother is permitted to labor in a relaxing, calm environment with the physical and emotional support she needs to allow her body to do what it is designed to do.
To me, an orgasmic childbirth is merely the ultimate experience of a natural, non-medical childbirth experience.

Many people, including women who have experienced a painful, rather than sensuous, natural childbirth may pooh-pooh the concept, while others classify it as incestuous or somehow “dirty.” But, Pascali-Bonaro asserts that childbirth is an integral part of a woman’s sexuality and sensuality. Additionally, she states that the quality of the birth experience “makes a profound difference on how the woman feels, how the family feels and, ultimately, how the baby feels.”

An orgasmic birth may not be for everyone. Some women may shy away from that level of intimacy or in some way, feel that it is dirty. But if you can take something that the media and millions of women view as “painful,” and turn it into the most pleasurable experience possible, why not strive for that?

More information

20/20 segment

While I was pregnant, I read a lot of birth stories. Each story is beautiful and unique, but some are more compelling, from a literary standpoint, than others. After a two-month hiatus from this blog during my maternity (semi) leave, I thought the most logical way to come back is with Ashley Lyn’s birth story. I don’t know if my story is worth telling, but I’ll try. Would it catch your attention if I told you that, after 45 hours of labor, my daughter was nearly born in an elevator?

When people ask how long I was in labor, the answer varies.

- 45 hours of labor in Stony Brook University Hospital’s antenatal unit;
- Three weeks of painful but unproductive Braxton-Hicks contractions;
- Six-and-a-half minutes of hard labor in the delivery room.

My husband reminds me that I spent another five minutes or so of hard labor in the elevator, trying not to push. But the story begins at 1 AM on Saturday, October 11, 2008.

Because of my gestational diabetes, the doctors advised inducing labor as early as 38 weeks. For two weeks and 10 days, I fought for my right to a natural childbirth, all the while fielding endless questions from well-meaning family, friends and associates. “You haven’t had that baby yet?”

I didn’t want Pitocin because I’d heard about causal links to post-partum depression, and I also heard that most people who use Pitocin need an epidural because of the intensity of the contractions. Pitocin also increases the odds of an emergency c-section birth. I felt very strongly about a 100 percent natural, drug-free childbirth. But this baby was not cooperating.

By October 5, my away message for the various chat platforms had a profane message letting people know there was NO BABY YET. Tired of the questions and the painful false labor, I made an appointment on Thursday, October 9 to be induced, but canceled at the last minute with a bad feeling.

On Saturday morning, my water broke. The midwife didn’t want to see us until Saturday at 1 PM. They would have sent me home to labor in comfort at that point, but the baby failed the “breathing” test during the ultrasound. Babies don’t actually breathe in the womb, but they practice. During the ultrasound, the doctor looked for this and other activities to gauge the baby’s well-being. As a precaution, they checked me into the hospital and began the first dose of Cervadil to jumpstart labor, because I wasn’t showing any dilation.

The next 12 hours went by slowly, with frequent but sporadic contractions that were no more painful than those I’d been feeling for the past three weeks. I read a book, wrote thank you cards, tried to nap, watched the Baby Channel…and talked to my daughter.

I offered a tear-filled soliloquy as I sat in a chair and stared out the window to the hospital parking garage below. I promised her we were ready for her, and asked her to please come now. I remember saying that I had no idea what to do with a baby, but that we would learn together.

I told her I couldn’t promise we’d do everything right. The only thing we could promise was to love her very, very much. I told her how long we had been waiting for her and that we couldn’t wait to meet her.

I watched shift after shift of nurses come and go. One of my favorites wrote a to-do list on the whiteboard in front of my bed. It contained only one item: “Meet Ashley Lyn!”

After the first dose, I had a four-hour break. I didn’t have any contractions during this time, which meant labor hadn’t kicked in naturally. At the end of four hours, the midwife checked my progress to decide if we needed another dose of Cervadil or if we could move on to Pitocin. She reported with great disappointment that I was “maybe half a centimeter dilated…really nothing to speak of.”

She inserted the second dose of Cervadil and I napped for an hour until I could eat my liquid meal. After three cups of tea, some beef bouillon and strawberry Jello, I had an intense contraction. Leaning forward in bed, I squeezed my husband’s hand and screamed.

Subsequent contractions went back to the mild variety, and there was still no consistent pattern. Even after all the reading I’d done and my childbirth classes, I didn’t recognize that this was the transition phase. After all, just an hour ago I was at zero centimeters!

The contractions gradually worsened, but they never reached an unbearable point. I was more impatient and exhausted than in pain. I requested a c-section because I felt like I was going to be in this early labor state forever. The midwife told me I couldn’t have a c-section unless I ran a fever or the baby showed distress. I didn’t want it to get to that point, but it seemed I had no choice but to endure endless waiting..

You know how they say you’ll recognize real labor when it happens? That wasn’t the case at all for me. Around 9 PM on Sunday, mid-way through the second dose of Cervadil, I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. I learned in childbirth class that this feeling means you are ready to push. But that couldn’t be it. After all, I wasn’t in real labor and I was nowhere near fully dilated. Right?

I told the nurse “I won’t be able to concentrate on having this baby until I can go to the bathroom…” and I requested a stool softener. It didn’t work, but I still felt intense, uncomfortable pressure.

The nurse didn’t immediately relate the feeling I was describing to hard labor, either, but after a few minutes, she said she was going to get the midwife to check me, “just to make sure.” No one was in any hurry. I couldn’t possibly have dilated that much, that quickly. Right?

It was quite a while before the midwife walked in, smiling. She apologized for the delay and said she was with another patient. Neither of us imagined I was ready to have the baby. The midwife put a gloved hand inside me and her eyes got wide. “Oh. My. Goodness! You’re fully dilated!” she said. “Let’s go!”

Orderlies grabbed the bed and jetted me into the hallway, my IV trailing behind like a poorly-trained puppy on a leash. It was like a hospital TV drama, everything moving rapidly, but events unfolding as if in slow motion.

The nurse stayed near the head of the bed imploring me NOT to push. I didn’t remember learning that in childbirth class and asked, “How?” The nurse told me to exhale in short, quick puffs. I remember thinking the IV was going to get ripped from my hand.  My husband grabbed all our important belongings and followed behind the bed, but I lost sight of him in the confusion. I remember yelling, “Watch my IV! Where’s my husband?” over and over again.

Crammed in the elevator, my husband found a spot by my side. After 45 hours of trying to get this baby out of me, I was now trying desperately to keep her inside for just a few more minutes!

The four-floor trip to the delivery room seemed to last forever. As they pushed the bed through the door I asked the midwife, “Now can I push??” I sighed when she requested that I move over to the delivery bed, but I did it and then began pushing immediately. In less than two minutes the baby’s head crowned, and after several more pushes, we had a beautiful baby girl. It was 10:04 PM on October 12, 2008.

The midwife laid Ashley on my chest right away, but my hospital gown prevented skin-to-skin contact. We tried to pull the gown off, with no success. The midwife wanted to cut the gown off and asked around for a scissor. My husband offered up his Leatherman multi-tool. “It’s not sterile,” he said.

“That’s fine,” the midwife said, cutting away the gown to lay my daughter on my chest. I remember laughing and telling Ashley, “See? Daddy’s got his Leatherman already. He can fix anything with that!”

My reaction to finally meeting my daughter, who weighed 6 lbs. 4 oz. and was 19.5” long, was not as I imagined. I did not cry, which I always thought I would. I think I was simply overwhelmed that she was finally here and yes, I fell in love immediately.

The next few days were marked by lots and lots of diapers, crying, breastfeeding struggles and more crying. I will chronicle these stories, and more, for you over the next few months, as I share Ashley’s life with Babies Online readers.

Two-time Oscar winning actress, Emma Thompson is very proud of ?giving birth without painkillers?. In fact she sees it as her biggest achievement in life. She says she is more proud of giving birth naturally than she is about her successful career. According to reports online, the British actress resorted to in vitro fertilization to get pregnant. Her daughter, Gaia is now nine.

Emma Thompson, the reports claim, regrets only that she wasn?t able to have more children. She also informally adopted a then 16-year-old Rwandan refugee, Tindyebwa Agaba in 2003. Since this year, Agaba is facing the threat of deportation from the UK since his 5-year permit to remain in the country while he seeks asylum has ran out. She admits to still having thoughts about expanding her family.

Many women are now refusing drugs and other pain reducing methods in favor of natural births. Non-traditional birthing methods are also gaining popularity as well. Lamaze for example is said to lessen the pain experienced during labor. The Bradley method is also popular, and is said to help lessen birthing pains with a series of relaxation techniques.

The important thing to remember is that whether to opt for natural birth or use epidurals is a personal decision. No woman who opts for a spinal tap or pain reducing drugs should feel like less of a woman. Ultimately, what is important is that the entire birthing process goes well, and that the baby is ok. Whichever birthing method a woman decides on, she should be guided by her doctor, or an experienced midwife.

Ms. Thompson is married to actor, Greg Wise. American audiences may recognize her from Love Actually and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. She has also appeared in Sense and Sensibility, and made an uncredited appearance in I am Legend. She won a best actress Oscar for Howard?s End, and one for writing the screenplay for Sense and Sensibility.

Communication alleviates fear.

I believe in this philosophy wholeheartedly. After all, nothing seems as bad when you know what to expect.

When I first discovered I was pregnant and began blogging for Babies Online, I confessed to a fear of doctors — an intense, panic-attack-inducing, tears and trembling phobia of the entire medical establishment.

After several visits with my group practice OB/Gyn, in which I sat in the waiting room for two hours only to spend five minutes with the doctor and have her tell me, ‘Well, don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,’ I switched to a midwife.

My visits with my midwife actually last longer than the time I spend in the waiting room. She even introduced herself to my husband when he came along on my last visit. My husband always felt slightly uncomfortable at my doctor’s office, as they treated him as an intrusion rather than the father of my baby.

Today I’m sitting in a lab for my one-hour glucose tolerance and have been told nothing. This made me extremely anxious about the test. I’m wishing I had asked the midwife all the questions on my mind, but I didn’t. Instead, I put the test off for three weeks and gave myself needless stress all morning before the test.

Sitting in the lab, I remembered my credo: ‘Communication alleviates fear.’ That’s why I have no trepidation visiting my midwife. It’s not the absence of a white lab coat or different letters after her name. It’s the way she communicates.

So this morning, in an effort to put my fears to rest, I’ve made a nuisance of myself, asking questions and demanding more than curt, one-word answers. I think the lab tech thinks I’m a pain in the neck. So I explained, ‘I guess I’m a bit spoiled by my midwife. She’s very good at communicating with me. I just want to know what to expect across the board.’

When I arrived the lab tech told me it was supposed to be a fasting test, which was not what two separate midwives told me. In fact, we spent quite a bit of time discussing what I should or shouldn’t eat on the morning of the test. I whipped out the paper given to me by my midwife, and said, ‘Um, no, actually, I’m allowed to eat as a normally would. Feel free to call my midwife if you’re not sure.’

The lab tech backed down with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. For the first time in my life, I feel empowered as a ‘patient.’ I use that word in quotes because pregnancy is not a disease, but a natural condition. I urge pregnant women to not think of themselves as “sick,” or to place themselves–intentionally or not–in the role of “patient,” at the mercy of doctors.

Although I don’t fault women who do feel intimidated by the entire ordeal. I never knew it could be like this, either. I never realized that medical personnel will actually listen and answer your questions. Sometimes it requires persistence and sometimes it happens naturally. If, after repeated attempts, your doctor still refuses to communicate with you (and this goes for obstetricians, pediatricians or even general practitioners) it is your right and responsibility as a patient to find one who will. And I have my midwives to thank for teaching me this important lesson.

My next question this morning may very well be, ‘What’s the password to connect to your wireless?’ so I can post this blog. As I’ve learned, it never hurts to ask.