My son loves books. When we are at the library I try to preview most of what we check out, but sometimes books surprise me. Recently, I checked out a book my son asked for that I thought was a standard book about welcoming a new baby into the family. It turned out to be a very realistic and well done book (Hello Baby) about what a homebirth is like for young children. The story is honest and simple and the illustrations are beautiful and specific without being too scary or overwhelming for the very young. In fact, my son was fascinated by them. The book actually brought about one of the coolest conversations I have ever had about birth with anyone. After explaining that the illustration of the baby crowning was not the mama "pooping" out the baby, although I let him know I could understand why he would think that from the angle of the picture, I explained to him that a mother pushes a baby out of her vagina. Instead of being repulsed or shutting down when he heard that word (the way almost every male has reacted my entire life especially in a context about birth), he was awestruck. "That's why mamas have vaginas and not penises? God makes them able to grow babies AND makes a way for the babies to get out into the world? That is so AWESOME."
I forget sometimes what a new culture I am working to build for my sons, but moments like this remind me of why I am so dedicated to it. No matter what he learns from the culture at large as he gets older, no one will ever be able to take away the honest, frank wonder and respect he felt for women that first moment when he realized how a baby is really born and why women are designed differently from men. It's not because women and their reproductive organs are "yucky" or "impolite." It's not because they are just mysteriously "different" just to confuse men. It's because women have to be biologically different for us to procreate. It is what we are designed to do. My son knows from the start that women are designed to birth babies and that a woman birthing is awe inspiring. Imagine how he will feel about the woman who may one day birth his child. Imagine how he will feel about being a birth partner if his initial memory is always one of wonder and not disgust or fear. How much more prepared is he to be a good birth partner than most of our male partners were initially just starting from a place of understanding and respect rather than from ignorance and fear? One day, he can look forward to his child's birth not only to meet the child, but also to see the wonder of his child's mother as a capable birther. He doesn't need to be overwhelmed by any feelings that he does not "belong" there or that birth is scary or a secret that was never shared with him. He can know what many of us didn't know until we were preparing to birth our children: women are made to birth and birth may be powerful and life changing, but it is also beautiful.
Changing birth options and birth choices may be couched in our understanding of women's rights and we may fight for best practices for our daughters to experience birth in a supportive, understanding, and safer environment, but we are also changing things for our sons who will one day support and love our daughters. If I can teach my sons to be able to say the word "vagina" without giggling and to think of birth as natural and wonderful and I can teach my sons that breasts are made for breastfeeding first and sexuality as an additional, lovely bonus, I am normalizing birth and breastfeeding for men and women and creating a more supportive culture for women and men. That's an awesome thing in and of itself.
Thanks for Reading,
Shawna
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
The Sacredness of an Imperfect Pregnancy and Post Pregnancy Body
I hate that my body doesn't show pregnancy until I am in the third trimester AND is back to prepregnancy size in six weeks or less. Yes. You read that right. I hate what most magazines tell you that you should kill for. However, I have good reason for it.
A pregnant body and, for that matter, a newly post pregnant body is a sacred space. It is meant to be different, curvier, and fuller because your life is different, curvier, and fuller. Desiring your prepregnancy body at such times might be an attempt to feel "normal" but the changes you see are the message to the world that "this" IS the NEW normal. Why would your body not reflect the emotional and spiritual growth that is happening within? The fetishism of youth and life before children is not only ridiculous but also pointless. Your life before children transitions into something else post children; your body makes that transition, too. That doesn't mean you won't be fit again or you won't look good again, but it does mean you may not look or feel the same and that's alright.
You have earned the right to look the way you do. You are accomplishing a great thing. You have grown or are growing another perfect human being. You have kept an entire human being safe and nourished when no other could. Your body is sacred. It is a universe onto itself in which your baby will spend or has spent every second of his/her existence before birth and when the birth needed to happen, YOU did that whether by natural means or c-section. What could possibly be more beautiful than that? A size 6? A size 2? I don't think so! Who the heck can/should care whether or not you look as traditionally, culturally "sexy" as you did before you created an entirely new life? Consider this. . . Which is a healthier view of beautiful or normal? An eternal image of what you looked like in your teens and/or twenties or an ever evolving image of the rest of your sixty to eighty years on this planet? Who really wants their lives to be exactly the way it was pre-children? Why would you want your body to be that way?
You have earned the right to look the way you do. You are accomplishing a great thing. You have grown or are growing another perfect human being. You have kept an entire human being safe and nourished when no other could. Your body is sacred. It is a universe onto itself in which your baby will spend or has spent every second of his/her existence before birth and when the birth needed to happen, YOU did that whether by natural means or c-section. What could possibly be more beautiful than that? A size 6? A size 2? I don't think so! Who the heck can/should care whether or not you look as traditionally, culturally "sexy" as you did before you created an entirely new life? Consider this. . . Which is a healthier view of beautiful or normal? An eternal image of what you looked like in your teens and/or twenties or an ever evolving image of the rest of your sixty to eighty years on this planet? Who really wants their lives to be exactly the way it was pre-children? Why would you want your body to be that way?
Love yourself and your post baby body. Forget about its size and its relationship to what others may construe as attractive. Forget about getting back to "normal." Embrace the awesome abnormality and sacredness of your birthing years. That is true beauty. (In the meantime, I will try to find the beauty of looking about the same on the outside while being transformed on the inside.)
Thanks for reading,
Shawna
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Help for First Time Pregnant Mothers
As two dear friends announce their pregnancies and begin on their journeys into motherhood, I want so much to ease their transitions. I want to wrap my arms and love around them and comfort them. I want to give them words of wisdom, but I'm not sure I know how. I still feel a lot like a new mother myself. So, what I can do is say the things I wish I could hop in a time machine and tell myself five years ago, knowing that my friends are on different roads of motherhood and have different hopes, fears, and experiences ahead of them than I had and as I have transitioned into having now.
She never existed before.
The woman existed, but the mother, never.
A mother is something absolutely new." -Rajneesh
Wearing your baby is the absolute best thing you can do for both you and your baby. Your baby gets to feel the security of being curled against you and you get the benefit of smelling that sweet baby smell and kissing the softest skin in the world while you get stuff done and eat things like burritos. What's not to love? Invest in a high quality carrier that protects your baby's hips. You can learn all about them here and buy them used (Just in case your baby has other ideas about what s/he likes.). I will blog about that and the many benefits of baby wearing some other time. (Seriously, investing in a good carrier, wrap, or sling is the best baby item you can have.)
Grandparents and family members are always excited about a new baby and particularly excited about a first baby. They will want to help you as much as they can in their excitement. Take them up on it, let them throw you a shower, but don't feel you have to register for a whole lot of stuff when you can often get it used for a fraction of the cost at Mom to Mom sales, garage sales, and gently used kids stores. Instead ask for gift cards. Gift cards for your favorite department store like Target or even your grocery store are particularly useful. That way, once your baby
There is no way to be a perfect mother, but there are a million ways to he a good one.
You will mess up. You will make wrong decisions. You will have regrets in your journey as a young mother. Accept that and accept yourself at every stage. There is a wonderful quote about motherhood:
"The moment a child is born,
the mother is also born."The moment a child is born,
She never existed before.
The woman existed, but the mother, never.
A mother is something absolutely new." -Rajneesh
Remember in the early days that you are every bit as new and vulnerable as your baby. Just as life in the womb does little to prepare newborns for life outside the womb, your life before children does not really prepare you for the realities of mothering. Be patient with yourself as you discover the mother you are meant to be. Dust yourself off when you fall down and believe that with every stumble you are learning to run by learning your own boundaries and balance. Love yourself with the same compassion you give your baby.
Take your pregnancy to do two things: really connect with your partner and get as many house projects as you can done.
No matter how long you've been together and what your relationship has been and is like, having children is going to shift your relationship dramatically and sleep deprivation, stress, and finding your post baby equilibrium will all take a toll on your relationship. Build up as much romance and goodwill as you can. Snuggle up and smooch as much as you can. Make love both physically and emotionally with the things you do together. Really savor these last few months when you are "you"--a couple without kids. It will be nearly twenty years before that will be the case again. As for the house projects, you cannot conceive of how much harder it is to get things done once the baby arrives. You may not think you have any time now, but post baby you will marvel at all the time you currently have. Use it productively!
Learn about your birth options.
Educate yourself about your birth choices and know that you do have choices. You do not have to give birth in the nearest hospital with a doctor a friend, cousin, or sister used. Studies show that planned homebirth with a midwife can be just as safe and may result in a shorter labor with less interventions. If you really are not comfortable with that option after researching it, you also have the options of birth centers with Certified Nurse Midwives, and independent birth centers with midwives. You can also go to another hospital a bit further away. You can still go the doctor at your closest hospital route, but learn what else is out there before you make your decision. When you are in labor, the last thing you need to do is have things suggested to you that you know nothing about. Take a good birthing class preferably not affiliated with a particular location and its practices so you can learn as much as you can. Consider hiring a doula for your birth. They are awesome women who will support you and your husband and greatly enhance your birth experience.
Learn about babywearing.
Learn about your birth options.
Educate yourself about your birth choices and know that you do have choices. You do not have to give birth in the nearest hospital with a doctor a friend, cousin, or sister used. Studies show that planned homebirth with a midwife can be just as safe and may result in a shorter labor with less interventions. If you really are not comfortable with that option after researching it, you also have the options of birth centers with Certified Nurse Midwives, and independent birth centers with midwives. You can also go to another hospital a bit further away. You can still go the doctor at your closest hospital route, but learn what else is out there before you make your decision. When you are in labor, the last thing you need to do is have things suggested to you that you know nothing about. Take a good birthing class preferably not affiliated with a particular location and its practices so you can learn as much as you can. Consider hiring a doula for your birth. They are awesome women who will support you and your husband and greatly enhance your birth experience.
Learn about babywearing.
Wearing your baby is the absolute best thing you can do for both you and your baby. Your baby gets to feel the security of being curled against you and you get the benefit of smelling that sweet baby smell and kissing the softest skin in the world while you get stuff done and eat things like burritos. What's not to love? Invest in a high quality carrier that protects your baby's hips. You can learn all about them here and buy them used (Just in case your baby has other ideas about what s/he likes.). I will blog about that and the many benefits of baby wearing some other time. (Seriously, investing in a good carrier, wrap, or sling is the best baby item you can have.)
Buy used.
Whenever you can, buy gently used. Even the most well used baby clothes are still used for only a few months. If you want to cloth diaper, I highly recommend diaperswappers. You can find huge lots of baby clothes of all sizes on ebay and craigslist, too, for a fraction of what you would buy new. Consignment stores, donation stores, and specialty children stores are filled to the brim with gently used, like new, baby items. If you have friends who already have children, see if you can borrow items that can really only be used a few months like swings, bouncy seats, infant bathtubs, etc. Save your money as much as you can for the unexpected and for items you might use longer like high chairs, booster chairs, good car seats, and baby wearing gear.
Ask for gift cards instead of trying to register for baby items you may or may not use.
Grandparents and family members are always excited about a new baby and particularly excited about a first baby. They will want to help you as much as they can in their excitement. Take them up on it, let them throw you a shower, but don't feel you have to register for a whole lot of stuff when you can often get it used for a fraction of the cost at Mom to Mom sales, garage sales, and gently used kids stores. Instead ask for gift cards. Gift cards for your favorite department store like Target or even your grocery store are particularly useful. That way, once your baby
gets here and you learn more about what works for him/her and his/her personality, you will have the money to accommodate those things. And don't be afraid to ask for things like gift certificates to stores that sell nursing bras/tops/etc. and for websites like etsy where you can buy washable nursing pads, unique diaper bags, slings, babywearing coats and all kinds of fun baby gear.
Most of all, love yourself and be open with whatever you are feeling when you are feeling it.
Pregnancy and first time motherhood are times of great emotional tumult. Do not judge yourself too harshly for it. Sleep in, baby yourself, and be open with how you are feeling! Get into the habit now because it will only become harder as time goes on to get into the habit. When your baby comes all your doubts and fears may go away, or maybe not. You might feel instantly in love, but maybe not. None of this means you will be or are a "bad" mother. Just like babies are not born instantly knowing how to nurse, talk, walk, etc. A woman who has just birthed a baby does not know everything all at once, either.
Don't ever worry about what others "think" or even what you think you should "think," instead, go with what you "feel" is right every time.
Study all you want during your pregnancy, but be kind if the answers you find beforehand are not the ones that "feel" right once you have a baby. Mother's intuition is real and don't be afraid to listen to it. You will still make mistakes, but at least you will know that you did what you did because you were trying your best.
Most of all, love yourself and be open with whatever you are feeling when you are feeling it.
Pregnancy and first time motherhood are times of great emotional tumult. Do not judge yourself too harshly for it. Sleep in, baby yourself, and be open with how you are feeling! Get into the habit now because it will only become harder as time goes on to get into the habit. When your baby comes all your doubts and fears may go away, or maybe not. You might feel instantly in love, but maybe not. None of this means you will be or are a "bad" mother. Just like babies are not born instantly knowing how to nurse, talk, walk, etc. A woman who has just birthed a baby does not know everything all at once, either.
Don't ever worry about what others "think" or even what you think you should "think," instead, go with what you "feel" is right every time.
Study all you want during your pregnancy, but be kind if the answers you find beforehand are not the ones that "feel" right once you have a baby. Mother's intuition is real and don't be afraid to listen to it. You will still make mistakes, but at least you will know that you did what you did because you were trying your best.
I have a friend who was sure she would love bedsharing, full term nursing, cloth diapering, and a whole host of other "natural parenting" practices. She learned through experience that while she did like some of those things, she did not like to do them for as long as she had thought and she actually couldn't stand some of them. I just "knew" for all nine months I was pregnant with my first (and for years beforehand), that I would never, ever let a child sleep in my bed because I am too light of a sleeper, I would never be able to cloth diaper, I would nurse for twelve months maximum, I was too busy and lazy to worry about too much nutrition, and I would be a strict, traditional disciplinarian. Now I am a co-sleeping, cloth diapering, full term breastfeeding, mother who believes passionately in gentle parenting and consequences rather than punishment and eating whole foods whenever possible. I truly believe that this is the best course for my family and we are all better for it, but it took me a long time to get over the disconnect between what I had always "thought" was right and what I "felt" in my heart was right. Then, just when I had everything figured out with my first, I had a second and discovered different things worked for him! That's why comparing yourself to other mothers or trying to just clone what they do will never work. Every baby, every mother, every situation is different. Advice (even my advice) may be kindly offered, but don't feel you have to take it too seriously. Save yourself some pain. Go with your gut.
Finally, get your mom and your best friends, both other moms and at least one non-mom, on speed dial.
Being a mother is the toughest job you'll ever love, but no one should feel like they are doing it alone. In addition to working hard to stay open and connected with your partner, make sure to connect with other women. They will know exactly how you feel and will not judge you for your "off days." Your non-mom friend will help you remember who you were before you were a mother when you need it. You will not believe how easy it is to forget that if you get too consumed.
All my love and good wishes for you on this journey to the woman and mother you were always destined to be.
Thanks for reading!
Shawna
Finally, get your mom and your best friends, both other moms and at least one non-mom, on speed dial.
Being a mother is the toughest job you'll ever love, but no one should feel like they are doing it alone. In addition to working hard to stay open and connected with your partner, make sure to connect with other women. They will know exactly how you feel and will not judge you for your "off days." Your non-mom friend will help you remember who you were before you were a mother when you need it. You will not believe how easy it is to forget that if you get too consumed.
All my love and good wishes for you on this journey to the woman and mother you were always destined to be.
Thanks for reading!
Shawna
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
What Happens When Your Water Breaks and You Don't Deliver Within 24Hours: Part 3: Birth Story
"This birth is cursed!" I announced after hanging up the phone and then commenced sobbing dejectedly. Almost three whole days since my water had broken, and I STILL wasn't in labor. Less than twelve hours and I wouldn't have a single study to back up that my baby was not really at risk. Three days of believing in my body and that all I needed was time and good energy and thoughts and my body was still letting me down! Now, I call our doula to let her know we were going to the hospital (the drive of shame I called it nastily in my head) only to find out she had just fallen and possibly broken her ankle. (No way she could drive or be on her feet for my labor all day.) Because she's an amazing professional, she'd already arranged a back up doula to cover us, but the thought of having another stranger there to witness my possible failure (my chances for a successful vbac were about to be a bit decreased by the introduction of pit at the hospital), was too much. I just couldn't stomach having a stranger there. (Now I kind of wish we had had her there for the pushing stage, but hind site is 20/20 and who knew that alone would last over four hours?)
The hour and twenty minute drive to the birth center seemed like an eternity since I wasn't in labor like I had planned to be on the drive. For someone who had worked really hard to not be "in her head" so much this labor, having almost three whole days to do nothing but think and wait had been agony. Because my natural coctractions were so strong, I went ahead and sat in the back seat so I could kneel or squat whenever they hit, but my last minute hope that active labor would just strike like lightening during the car ride was not to be. We arrived at the hospital, went up to the birth center floor, and went directly to triage, a place I had sworn I would skip because I would be in such advanced labor before I even left the house, where I was tested to see if the fluid really was amniotic even though it had pretty much stopped flowing over twenty four hours before (we think it was a high leak and the baby moved to block it). It was positive (duh!). I was an emotional mess. I cried before the midwife and midwifery student even had a chance to get more than "hello" out. My heart rate was high because I was so upset. (Once I did some hypnotherapy on myself it dropped right down.) I felt humiliated and like a failure. Suddenly, having another c-section and a hysterectomy no longer seemed like far off possiblities. I kept most of those fears to myself and tried to dispell them as best I could.
Something I am grateful for is the completely non-plussed attitude the midwives had about how long my water had been broken. While my OB during my last birth had panicked because it had been fifteen hours since my water had broken and my contractions were steady, but I was not in completely active labor, my midwife took for granted that my body was fine. I had no signs of infection. My baby showed no signs of distress. No cervical check was done. Just the swab for the amniotic fluid and that was all. In my distress, I had even forgotten my birth plan, but my midwife had already scanned in a copy, so they just printed one out from their computer. They were also very respectful of me. They not only got me into a tub room and found me wireless monitors (I was only being monitored because of the pit) so that I could be as active as I wanted to be and get into the tub when I was ready, but they also found me a birth ball and gave me a chance to eat a meal before hooking me up to pit.Normally they encourage mothers to eat as much as they feel they need to during labor, despite hospital policies to the contrary, but when on pit, it's clear liquids only. At every turn, whenever they knew they were veering off my birth plan, they apologized and made sure that I gave the final okay for everything. It was made clear to me that although the circumstances of my birth were not as I had planned, this still was my body and my birth. I felt safer being treated with so much respect. I remember a moment when my husband left the room to check on our son and the nurses left the room to get something before finishing hooking up the pit and I could almost hear my heart beating out of my chest and the waves of shame that I was going to "need" pit to have this baby washing over me. I decided in that moment that there was no more room for shame or for fear in this birth. I actually decided to "bless" the pit and let it know what I did and did not need from it before it could enter my body. It felt a little silly, but equally important because I wanted to feel in control of my birth again. So, I said a quick prayer and then I said, "Okay, pit. I just want to let you know where we stand. I know that I cursed you as an enemy in my last birth, but you are going to help bring me stronger contractions so that my baby comes to me a little more quickly and for that I thank you. For every wave of pain you send my way, I will thank you until my baby is in my arms. You are here not because I am broken, but because my water has broken a bit early. I do not need you, but I welcome you. You will not give me contractions that are too strong for me, because I am stronger than you. My body gives you your power and it will give me my baby. God is with me. You will not over power me."
They then hooked up the pit and because I am a VBAC, they told me that they would use very minimal doses and up them every half an hour or so until I was in active labor. It took two hours and four doses before the "pit" contractions became anywhere close to my natural contractions that were still occurring randomly. My husband and I walked together around and around the circular birthing center, and as I walked the contractions got stronger and closer together. I tried to teach him how to give counter pressure on my hips during the contractions. After three hours on pit, the contractions were two minutes apart, were lasting at least a minute each, and were powerful enough that I needed to vocalize to get through them (they would continue at this pace for the rest of my labor . . . another twelve hours). The wireless monitors were also running out of juice, so we had to return to the room and I sat on the birth ball or got into different squatting or all fours positions to get through the contractions. It was at this point that the midwife shift was about to change and the midwive coming on was none other than *my* midwife. The midwife I had seen exclusively at her one day a week shift at the location closest to where I lived (about 45 min from my home). I was so glad to see her, I almost could have kissed her. She was the one thing that seemed to be exactly right. After she came on shift, I requested my first cervical check, just to see if I was far enough along to get into the tub. She checked and I was at a four. A four!?!?!? A four. I know women who get to fours without ever feeling a contraction and here I was drowning in powerful ones and I was only at a four. Not even half way there. My labor still felt so fragile at that point, so ephemeral. My VBAC in general seemed so illusive I couldn't stand it. I had wanted to feel the power of my body, to get caught up in birth, but despite the power, intensity, and regularity of the pit contractions, I still felt that at any moment it all could be over and I could find myself in surgery. The perfect trust I had had in my body all during my pregnancy had been shattered by my days of waiting after my water broke. In fact, I had received a text shortly before going into labor in which a well meaning loved one had meant to assure me that the birth that needed to happen would happen and that I should not hold myself to blame for whatever did occur, but the words that had been used were "some women are just broken and need help in birth." The word "broken" just reverberated in my soul. When I heard I was only a four; I heard that word "broken" repeating in my ears again. I started crying. My husband couldn't understand what was wrong; my midwife couldn't understand what was wrong. My doula who continually kept calling to check on us and was a nervous wreck waiting for news told us that the first four centimeters are always the hardest. Still, I pressed on, but fear had started creeping back in. It wasn't until about twenty to thirty minutes later, that something happened that forever changed the trajectory of my birth and made it possible for me to have a successful VBAC despite the obstacles and challenges that were still to come.
I was sitting on the birth ball, breathing and vocalizing through my contractions. I was using an "ahhh" sound this time to relax the back of my throat and the sound that came out actually became (through no direction of mine) a bit of a song. I would sing my way through my contractions for most of the rest of my labor. Suddenly, I felt the baby drop and shift just a tiny bit and I felt pressure in the back. I knew that I was not far enough along to push yet, but it was a sensation that I had never felt in all 29 hours of labor with my first child. Suddenly, right in the middle of a hellishly strong contraction, I found hope. I felt that bit of pressure and I thought, that's it. That's the right position. This is new. This is different. This VBAC is going to happen. That was the moment that made it all possible. Come what may.
Just an hour or so later, I started showing signs I was in transition and I moved into the large birth tub to help ease the pain. There I sang through every contraction and sniffed lavender and other essential oils my midwife prepared for me. I also drank some raspberry leaf tea. From here on out, I become pretty unsure of times, but I probably entered the tub around 9 or so and exited a little before midnight. While I felt pressure, I still did not feel it was time to push quite yet. My midwife eventually asked if I was willing to leave the tub and give another position a try. I tried laboring on all fours in the bed, but the midwife suggested maybe I should try lying on my side and rotating from side to side every other contraction. I think she wanted to get the baby in a little bit better position and it must have worked because fairly soon I did feel pressure to push. At some point, she had checked and I was at 9 1/2 centimeters which it felt awesome to hear because that was further than I had gotten in my first birth. Laying on my side had really hurt, but it seemed worth it. (I would not feel that way the next time I was on my side.) Feeling the need to stand I got up from the bed and tried leaning against my husband and the nurse, but when the next contraction hit, I found an urge to squat through the contraction. The midwife suggested making my song's notes go lower more like grunting to help power the energy downward. She suggested I go ahead and try a push if that's what I felt like doing. (I did!) Pushing felt amazing. It was such a relief to work with my body rather than against it. Because it was not yet midnight, I foolishly dreamed maybe I would only need to push a few times and the baby and I would share a birthday. Alas, that was not to be.
After a few pushes, my midwife got a little bit of a worried look on her face and said she thought I migh
t have a cervical lip, so she tried to hold it out of the way during the next push, but it was stubborn. A veteran of over twenty five years, she seemed like she knew what she was talking about so when she told me that it seemed particularly "spongy and stubborn" and that I should stop pushing and lay down, I listened to her. In my first birth, I had reached a dilation of 8.5 and then after bearing down too much, too early I had started undilating and had ended up with my ceasarean. I did not want history to repeat itself. I had come to far to do that again. So, I consented to laying on my side again this time with my legs closed and rotating some more to keep the baby in a good bithing position. I have been through a root canal, I have had two molars pulled with only partial pain relief, I have been through (a collective total of both of my births) over 30 hours of un-pain medicated pit labor, I have gone through two abdomen surgeries (a c-section and gall bladder surgery) with no pain medication after the initial surgery except ibuprofen and tyenol and I have never felt pain like the pain I felt lying on the bed after pushing. To fight to relax my body after being able to work with the pain of the contraction was incredibly painful and holding my legs together felt impossible. I felt like my body was going to shake apart from the strength of those contractions. Adding to the misery, there was absolutely no respite from the pain. In between contractions, because of the position of the baby I was in a solid block of pain that was only intensified during a contraction. The best way I can think to describe it is being stabbed by a knife and then having the knife almost slid out to relieve part of the pain, only to have it plunged back in. I shudder thinking about it now, four months later. It was at this time, I finally broke and started crying. I just wanted a short respite from that pain. I didn't think I could continue without some sort of a break, but here's the thing. I did. It was bearable. Even though, in the moment, I was afraid it wasn't. It was. I was stronger than that incredible pain.
Finally, I felt that if I didn't push I was going to die, that the contractions would simply break me in half and my baby would come out that way. I begged the midwife to let me push and she offered to check, but I could tell by her voice that she didn't think my cervical lip was gone, but to her surprise, it was. She told me on the next contraction to push. I was so relieved. I glanced at the clock and realized that it was past midnight. The baby had chosen to wait for his own birthday to be born. I had been on pit about 11 hours. The nurse and midwife installed the squat bar over my bed and with the next contraction I pulled myself up and pushed. Although it hurt, it felt much, much better to push. As the baby squeezed low under my pelvic bone, my hips began to burn like nothing I had ever felt before, but then the baby would slide back. I would push into the pain and then the baby would slide back, peek a boo. The midwife helped me learn how to direct my pushes so they could be more productive, but still the baby was not coming out. This went on for hours. I want to note that I was not panicked. I was not under the impression that I could not do it. With every push, I felt like this was the one that would get the baby's head out, but each time, it wasn't.
After awhile, I noticed my nose felt runny like it sometimes did when I went to the gym and I was a little embarrassed about that, but since nothing could be done, I just pushed through it. I noticed my husband starting to look worried, and I tried to be reassuring, but that was hard when all my real energy was on pushing. I noticed drops of blood all over the bed and thought it was from the pushing, but I learned later the blood was from my nose. It turned out that every time I squatted to push, my nose would gush blood. When the midwife (who was going between rooms because another mama was pushing as well) returned, she told me she wanted me to lay down to push for awhile, but didn't tell me that it was because my nose was bleeding so much. I would lay to push the rest of the time. (This is VERY unusual for my midwife practice, but was done simply because of the stress I seemed to be under vertically.)
I am uncertain exactly how this next part happened, but eventually I realized I was having a lot of trouble breathing. My lungs felt really tight and no matter how deeply and slowly I tried to breathe there was never enough air. I was so focused on living push to push that the sensation sort of snuck up on me. It was a little surreal because I was too focused to even panic about it. It took me a long time to even vocalize that it was happening because the two twin goals of pushing and breathing were so all encompassing that it was all I could do to keep up with them. Talking was too difficult. The midwife and the nurse could tell something was wrong, though, my heartrate was going up and my oxygen (although it stayed pretty high) became a little erratic. Eventually, I was put on oxygen, but that did little to help. I remember just feeling completely washed in the sensation of drowning; I was lost in a sea of pressure, pain, and pathetically little air. I became aware that I was becoming very foggy. Again, I did not panic, the sensation as strange and horrible as it was had something familiar about it that I couldn't put a name to with all my focus on getting the baby out. I began to wonder if I was going to be able to stay concious, fighting for every breath the way I was and struggling to stay aware. Still, the siren song of the need to push kept calling and I was powerless to resist. Even when my midwife began to tell me that I was pushing too hard and I needed to take every other contraction off from pushing, my body just could not obey. My contraction would come and my baby would call and my body would push, with or without my help, so I would take the deepest breath I could and I would push myself as hard as I could because to do otherwise would have been to waste what precious energy I had left and I, even in my foggy, dissassociated state, knew that I would run out of energy eventually. The only point where I did get a little panicky happened after what I guess was a particularly hard push in which I had a very brief break with reality and momentarily lost where I was and what I was doing. I remember looking around and thinking: where the heck am I and what in the world is going on? I think I may even have attempted to say it outloud because I remember seeing everyone look at each other really concerned. I thought at the time I might have passed out and came to quickly, but eveyone present swears I was awake the whole time. Fighting to breathe and fighting to push, I was in no position to argue with anyone if someone had said that a repeat cesarean was necessary. I was completely at the mercy of my provider. Looking back, I am very happy that I was so picky and insistant about finding a provider I believed in and who I thought would support and believe in me. As much as I wanted to be powerful, in charge, and independent during my birth, my breathing difficulties and my fatigue made it impossible. I told myself that I was going to push on and on and on and on until I had a baby in my arms or I passed out and woke up in an operating room. I could not assess which would be my outcome, but my midwife saw strength and resiliance in me that I could not see in that moment. She saw me as a powerful woman facing only seemingly insurmountable trouble and she told me I could do it. I couldn't even hear her voice, but I knew she was in my corner and had not lost faith in me. So, on I pushed and pushed and pushed. Each time amazed that I could still rise to the contraction's call even as the air seemd to grow thinner and thinner. (The baby's stats remained strong throughout no matter my distress level.)
Sometime later (an eternity? an hour? two?), the head was finally emerged enough that I could touch it and remembering I had expressed a wish to do so, my midwife encouraged me to feel my baby's head. She had what seemed like an endless supply of hot evening primrose oil and it seemed to me that she was doing everything she could to preserve every micrometer of progress I made with my pushes. A few pushes later, she told me that if I wanted it, she would perform an episiotomy just to help me get the baby out faster. She stressed that it was my choice and she was only offering it because I seemed so distressed. I told her "yes." Anything to make this eternity of airlessness and pain come closer to an end. (I learned two days later that it was only the second episiotomy she had ever performed in over 25 years of being a midwife and the only one she had performed because the mother seemed distressed.) She performed it and the very next push my son was born. Although I had always been told the shoulders were the worst part and the ring of fire was something to behold, both sensations were nothing compared to the pain of laying on my side trying to get rid of my cervical lip or the burning my hips felt as I pushed the baby out. In fact, I never felt the shoulders at all. As soon as the head was birthed, I did not need to push again. The baby fell out and was quickly placed on my chest. Although he would remain there only seconds as we both breathed raggedly, stunned to finally be there, it is a moment I will never forget.
It was at this point that we veered yet again from my birth plan and the baby was whisked to a pediatrician who had been called in because I had been in such obvious distress while pushing. His umbilical cord stopped pulsing mere moments after birth and as soon as it was cut, he was taken over and examined in the incubator. My breathing was becoming easier, but I could hear that his cry was strange and his breathing seemed "off" somehow. I birthed the placenta without even pushing and as the midwife stitched me back together, the pediatrician on call (our doctor was back in the town where we lived almost an hour and a half away) came over with my still crying baby and told me that the strange cry I was hearing was because my baby might not be "tolerating the conversion to gas oxygen well." He thought that the best course of action for the time being would be for me to give him lots of skin to skin and to suction him as much as possible. He would return in an hour to check the baby's progress unless the baby seemed to get more distressed in the mean time. He encouraged me to nurse whenever the baby seemed interested and ready and that he would not take the baby from me and into the NICU unless he got worse. It seemed that there would be no respite from worry in this birth.
However, an hour later found the baby still crying, freshly nursed, but breathing better. Another very thorough sunction from the pediatricican and I finally saw my baby at peace. We lay together, skin to skin, heart to heart, battered lungs to battered lungs, both a little shocked, amazed,and thankful that we were there, together, and still breathing. Exhaustion washed over us both and we slept.
Two days later, it hit me why the sensation was so familiar. My struggle breathing had been an asthma attack. Because of the noise of the baby's monitor and, later, the whir of the oxygen tank, no one could hear the tell tale wheezing of my lungs. Having an asthma attack while in labor is exceptionally rare; less than one percent of asthmatic women ever experience it. Yet another crazy statistic in this crazy birth. I talked to my midwife about it and she was relieved to hear what had happened had an explanation. She felt awful for not recognizing the signs for what they were, but she had never experienced any patient having an asthma attack during labor, either. "Next time, if there is a next time, I'm going to put it in your chart. Puff and then push". I couldn't agree more.
There is line from a Margaret Atwood poem that ends "I don't want this/but I want this also." In the hours and days after my second son's birth, those lines haunted me. After I looked up the poem, I realized why they haunted me, although the poem is ostensibly about the love the speaker has for her lover whose body has been broken. I realized that it perfectly encapsulated how I felt about my body after birth. I was not the birth warrior/goddess I had always thought I could and should be, but I did it anyway. I was adequate and adequate was all we needed. I don't love this story I have written for you. I wanted something different. It is not full of power and self assurance and victory the way I imagined it would be, but I love and want this also because it is the story of how my son came into this world and how I birthed him with my imperfect body that was still enough.
Thank you for reading,
Shawna
The hour and twenty minute drive to the birth center seemed like an eternity since I wasn't in labor like I had planned to be on the drive. For someone who had worked really hard to not be "in her head" so much this labor, having almost three whole days to do nothing but think and wait had been agony. Because my natural coctractions were so strong, I went ahead and sat in the back seat so I could kneel or squat whenever they hit, but my last minute hope that active labor would just strike like lightening during the car ride was not to be. We arrived at the hospital, went up to the birth center floor, and went directly to triage, a place I had sworn I would skip because I would be in such advanced labor before I even left the house, where I was tested to see if the fluid really was amniotic even though it had pretty much stopped flowing over twenty four hours before (we think it was a high leak and the baby moved to block it). It was positive (duh!). I was an emotional mess. I cried before the midwife and midwifery student even had a chance to get more than "hello" out. My heart rate was high because I was so upset. (Once I did some hypnotherapy on myself it dropped right down.) I felt humiliated and like a failure. Suddenly, having another c-section and a hysterectomy no longer seemed like far off possiblities. I kept most of those fears to myself and tried to dispell them as best I could.
Something I am grateful for is the completely non-plussed attitude the midwives had about how long my water had been broken. While my OB during my last birth had panicked because it had been fifteen hours since my water had broken and my contractions were steady, but I was not in completely active labor, my midwife took for granted that my body was fine. I had no signs of infection. My baby showed no signs of distress. No cervical check was done. Just the swab for the amniotic fluid and that was all. In my distress, I had even forgotten my birth plan, but my midwife had already scanned in a copy, so they just printed one out from their computer. They were also very respectful of me. They not only got me into a tub room and found me wireless monitors (I was only being monitored because of the pit) so that I could be as active as I wanted to be and get into the tub when I was ready, but they also found me a birth ball and gave me a chance to eat a meal before hooking me up to pit.Normally they encourage mothers to eat as much as they feel they need to during labor, despite hospital policies to the contrary, but when on pit, it's clear liquids only. At every turn, whenever they knew they were veering off my birth plan, they apologized and made sure that I gave the final okay for everything. It was made clear to me that although the circumstances of my birth were not as I had planned, this still was my body and my birth. I felt safer being treated with so much respect. I remember a moment when my husband left the room to check on our son and the nurses left the room to get something before finishing hooking up the pit and I could almost hear my heart beating out of my chest and the waves of shame that I was going to "need" pit to have this baby washing over me. I decided in that moment that there was no more room for shame or for fear in this birth. I actually decided to "bless" the pit and let it know what I did and did not need from it before it could enter my body. It felt a little silly, but equally important because I wanted to feel in control of my birth again. So, I said a quick prayer and then I said, "Okay, pit. I just want to let you know where we stand. I know that I cursed you as an enemy in my last birth, but you are going to help bring me stronger contractions so that my baby comes to me a little more quickly and for that I thank you. For every wave of pain you send my way, I will thank you until my baby is in my arms. You are here not because I am broken, but because my water has broken a bit early. I do not need you, but I welcome you. You will not give me contractions that are too strong for me, because I am stronger than you. My body gives you your power and it will give me my baby. God is with me. You will not over power me."
They then hooked up the pit and because I am a VBAC, they told me that they would use very minimal doses and up them every half an hour or so until I was in active labor. It took two hours and four doses before the "pit" contractions became anywhere close to my natural contractions that were still occurring randomly. My husband and I walked together around and around the circular birthing center, and as I walked the contractions got stronger and closer together. I tried to teach him how to give counter pressure on my hips during the contractions. After three hours on pit, the contractions were two minutes apart, were lasting at least a minute each, and were powerful enough that I needed to vocalize to get through them (they would continue at this pace for the rest of my labor . . . another twelve hours). The wireless monitors were also running out of juice, so we had to return to the room and I sat on the birth ball or got into different squatting or all fours positions to get through the contractions. It was at this point that the midwife shift was about to change and the midwive coming on was none other than *my* midwife. The midwife I had seen exclusively at her one day a week shift at the location closest to where I lived (about 45 min from my home). I was so glad to see her, I almost could have kissed her. She was the one thing that seemed to be exactly right. After she came on shift, I requested my first cervical check, just to see if I was far enough along to get into the tub. She checked and I was at a four. A four!?!?!? A four. I know women who get to fours without ever feeling a contraction and here I was drowning in powerful ones and I was only at a four. Not even half way there. My labor still felt so fragile at that point, so ephemeral. My VBAC in general seemed so illusive I couldn't stand it. I had wanted to feel the power of my body, to get caught up in birth, but despite the power, intensity, and regularity of the pit contractions, I still felt that at any moment it all could be over and I could find myself in surgery. The perfect trust I had had in my body all during my pregnancy had been shattered by my days of waiting after my water broke. In fact, I had received a text shortly before going into labor in which a well meaning loved one had meant to assure me that the birth that needed to happen would happen and that I should not hold myself to blame for whatever did occur, but the words that had been used were "some women are just broken and need help in birth." The word "broken" just reverberated in my soul. When I heard I was only a four; I heard that word "broken" repeating in my ears again. I started crying. My husband couldn't understand what was wrong; my midwife couldn't understand what was wrong. My doula who continually kept calling to check on us and was a nervous wreck waiting for news told us that the first four centimeters are always the hardest. Still, I pressed on, but fear had started creeping back in. It wasn't until about twenty to thirty minutes later, that something happened that forever changed the trajectory of my birth and made it possible for me to have a successful VBAC despite the obstacles and challenges that were still to come.
After a few pushes, my midwife got a little bit of a worried look on her face and said she thought I migh
Finally, I felt that if I didn't push I was going to die, that the contractions would simply break me in half and my baby would come out that way. I begged the midwife to let me push and she offered to check, but I could tell by her voice that she didn't think my cervical lip was gone, but to her surprise, it was. She told me on the next contraction to push. I was so relieved. I glanced at the clock and realized that it was past midnight. The baby had chosen to wait for his own birthday to be born. I had been on pit about 11 hours. The nurse and midwife installed the squat bar over my bed and with the next contraction I pulled myself up and pushed. Although it hurt, it felt much, much better to push. As the baby squeezed low under my pelvic bone, my hips began to burn like nothing I had ever felt before, but then the baby would slide back. I would push into the pain and then the baby would slide back, peek a boo. The midwife helped me learn how to direct my pushes so they could be more productive, but still the baby was not coming out. This went on for hours. I want to note that I was not panicked. I was not under the impression that I could not do it. With every push, I felt like this was the one that would get the baby's head out, but each time, it wasn't.
I am uncertain exactly how this next part happened, but eventually I realized I was having a lot of trouble breathing. My lungs felt really tight and no matter how deeply and slowly I tried to breathe there was never enough air. I was so focused on living push to push that the sensation sort of snuck up on me. It was a little surreal because I was too focused to even panic about it. It took me a long time to even vocalize that it was happening because the two twin goals of pushing and breathing were so all encompassing that it was all I could do to keep up with them. Talking was too difficult. The midwife and the nurse could tell something was wrong, though, my heartrate was going up and my oxygen (although it stayed pretty high) became a little erratic. Eventually, I was put on oxygen, but that did little to help. I remember just feeling completely washed in the sensation of drowning; I was lost in a sea of pressure, pain, and pathetically little air. I became aware that I was becoming very foggy. Again, I did not panic, the sensation as strange and horrible as it was had something familiar about it that I couldn't put a name to with all my focus on getting the baby out. I began to wonder if I was going to be able to stay concious, fighting for every breath the way I was and struggling to stay aware. Still, the siren song of the need to push kept calling and I was powerless to resist. Even when my midwife began to tell me that I was pushing too hard and I needed to take every other contraction off from pushing, my body just could not obey. My contraction would come and my baby would call and my body would push, with or without my help, so I would take the deepest breath I could and I would push myself as hard as I could because to do otherwise would have been to waste what precious energy I had left and I, even in my foggy, dissassociated state, knew that I would run out of energy eventually. The only point where I did get a little panicky happened after what I guess was a particularly hard push in which I had a very brief break with reality and momentarily lost where I was and what I was doing. I remember looking around and thinking: where the heck am I and what in the world is going on? I think I may even have attempted to say it outloud because I remember seeing everyone look at each other really concerned. I thought at the time I might have passed out and came to quickly, but eveyone present swears I was awake the whole time. Fighting to breathe and fighting to push, I was in no position to argue with anyone if someone had said that a repeat cesarean was necessary. I was completely at the mercy of my provider. Looking back, I am very happy that I was so picky and insistant about finding a provider I believed in and who I thought would support and believe in me. As much as I wanted to be powerful, in charge, and independent during my birth, my breathing difficulties and my fatigue made it impossible. I told myself that I was going to push on and on and on and on until I had a baby in my arms or I passed out and woke up in an operating room. I could not assess which would be my outcome, but my midwife saw strength and resiliance in me that I could not see in that moment. She saw me as a powerful woman facing only seemingly insurmountable trouble and she told me I could do it. I couldn't even hear her voice, but I knew she was in my corner and had not lost faith in me. So, on I pushed and pushed and pushed. Each time amazed that I could still rise to the contraction's call even as the air seemd to grow thinner and thinner. (The baby's stats remained strong throughout no matter my distress level.)
Sometime later (an eternity? an hour? two?), the head was finally emerged enough that I could touch it and remembering I had expressed a wish to do so, my midwife encouraged me to feel my baby's head. She had what seemed like an endless supply of hot evening primrose oil and it seemed to me that she was doing everything she could to preserve every micrometer of progress I made with my pushes. A few pushes later, she told me that if I wanted it, she would perform an episiotomy just to help me get the baby out faster. She stressed that it was my choice and she was only offering it because I seemed so distressed. I told her "yes." Anything to make this eternity of airlessness and pain come closer to an end. (I learned two days later that it was only the second episiotomy she had ever performed in over 25 years of being a midwife and the only one she had performed because the mother seemed distressed.) She performed it and the very next push my son was born. Although I had always been told the shoulders were the worst part and the ring of fire was something to behold, both sensations were nothing compared to the pain of laying on my side trying to get rid of my cervical lip or the burning my hips felt as I pushed the baby out. In fact, I never felt the shoulders at all. As soon as the head was birthed, I did not need to push again. The baby fell out and was quickly placed on my chest. Although he would remain there only seconds as we both breathed raggedly, stunned to finally be there, it is a moment I will never forget.
It was at this point that we veered yet again from my birth plan and the baby was whisked to a pediatrician who had been called in because I had been in such obvious distress while pushing. His umbilical cord stopped pulsing mere moments after birth and as soon as it was cut, he was taken over and examined in the incubator. My breathing was becoming easier, but I could hear that his cry was strange and his breathing seemed "off" somehow. I birthed the placenta without even pushing and as the midwife stitched me back together, the pediatrician on call (our doctor was back in the town where we lived almost an hour and a half away) came over with my still crying baby and told me that the strange cry I was hearing was because my baby might not be "tolerating the conversion to gas oxygen well." He thought that the best course of action for the time being would be for me to give him lots of skin to skin and to suction him as much as possible. He would return in an hour to check the baby's progress unless the baby seemed to get more distressed in the mean time. He encouraged me to nurse whenever the baby seemed interested and ready and that he would not take the baby from me and into the NICU unless he got worse. It seemed that there would be no respite from worry in this birth.
However, an hour later found the baby still crying, freshly nursed, but breathing better. Another very thorough sunction from the pediatricican and I finally saw my baby at peace. We lay together, skin to skin, heart to heart, battered lungs to battered lungs, both a little shocked, amazed,and thankful that we were there, together, and still breathing. Exhaustion washed over us both and we slept.
Two days later, it hit me why the sensation was so familiar. My struggle breathing had been an asthma attack. Because of the noise of the baby's monitor and, later, the whir of the oxygen tank, no one could hear the tell tale wheezing of my lungs. Having an asthma attack while in labor is exceptionally rare; less than one percent of asthmatic women ever experience it. Yet another crazy statistic in this crazy birth. I talked to my midwife about it and she was relieved to hear what had happened had an explanation. She felt awful for not recognizing the signs for what they were, but she had never experienced any patient having an asthma attack during labor, either. "Next time, if there is a next time, I'm going to put it in your chart. Puff and then push". I couldn't agree more.
There is line from a Margaret Atwood poem that ends "I don't want this/but I want this also." In the hours and days after my second son's birth, those lines haunted me. After I looked up the poem, I realized why they haunted me, although the poem is ostensibly about the love the speaker has for her lover whose body has been broken. I realized that it perfectly encapsulated how I felt about my body after birth. I was not the birth warrior/goddess I had always thought I could and should be, but I did it anyway. I was adequate and adequate was all we needed. I don't love this story I have written for you. I wanted something different. It is not full of power and self assurance and victory the way I imagined it would be, but I love and want this also because it is the story of how my son came into this world and how I birthed him with my imperfect body that was still enough.
Final Stats:
Second baby boy born 82 hours after water broke
7 lbs 8 oz
20 1/2 inches long
On his due date the day after my birthday,
5:11 am March 10,
15 hours after pitocin introduction
Thank you for reading,
Shawna
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
What Happens When Your Water Breaks and You Don't Deliver Within 24 Hours: Part 2: My Pre-birth Story
Okay, so Part One was all about the research that went into the decision I made not to go to the hospital even after my water had been broken for over 24 hours. This is my personal story.
It was Wednesday, March 6. Like all wednesdays were at the end of my pregnancy, this one was busy. In the morning, was my son's library story time (a highlight of his week), followed by a rush to make lunch and get dinner in the crockpot, than get my son down for his nap, then head out to a town 45 minutes away for my now weekly midwife appointments (there was only one midwife at that location, the closest to my home, and she is only there one day a week), than another 45 minute drive home when I would rush in to get dinner finished and on the table. This had been my routine for three weeks. As I was placing dinner on the table that night, though, something different happened. I felt a small gush of warm liquid. I'm not going to lie. My first thought was, "Crap. Not again. I don't want my water to break when I am not in labor yet!" My second thought was maybe the baby (always low in my 39th week) had put pressure on my bladder. I went to the bathroom and there was no more "leaking" so I thought maybe I could stop it with my kegels and that it wasn't really my water. However, immediately after leaving the bathroom, I started to feel squirts every time I took a step and there was no stopping them. It was my water breaking before labor. Again. I asked my husband to finish setting the dinner table, went upstairs, changed my clothes grabbed a poise pad (I had convieniently bought two large bags of them just in case) and told my family over dinner that my water had broken. My husband wanted to call everyone immediately, but I held him back knowing that labor could take awhile in coming (little did I know how long!). In the end we made four phone calls that night, one to each of our mothers as a heads up we could need child coverage that night, our doula, and our midwife practice because I wanted to make sure that a tub room would be available for me. We then double checked our labor bags, set them by the door, got out all our "birth day celebration" goodies we had bought for our son and his grandparents to decorate the house with while we were at the hospital birth center and went to bed early to rest up for the big day. Around ten, I started getting moderate contractions lasting about a minute and coming every five minutes and this lasted for about three hours, and I tried to rest through them knowing that active labor would be much harder. Gradually, they petered out and I started the next morning still not in active labor.
Thursday March 7
Still, I knew from research that something like 90% of women have their babies within 48 hours of their water breaking, so believing statitics to be on my side, I did not worry. In fact, I even felt a little proud of myself. Here was my chance to do what I thought I should have done my first labor, stay home longer! I did make a call to my chiropractor whom I had been seeing weekly and she agreed to adjust me just in case labor was slow in coming because of some positioning issue (I had been doing the daily exercises from spinning babies every day since my 31st week, and I continued to do those, but I figured chiropractic help couldn't hurt!). She came in on her day off to do it (because the doctors at Volz Chiropractic are awesome like that). I then decided to gently encourage labor by doing some walking and our family of three went to the mall to walk (or in my case, waddle) and invite our fourth member to join us. We walked for a few hours, with me staying well hydrated and making frequent stops to change my pads and to breathe through some decent contractions. We then came home for lunch and I took an after lunch nap with my son to rest up for the big show. However, by the time we hit the 24 hour mark, my natural contractions had increased in intensity, but were still very sporadic and I was no where near active labor despite bouncing on the exercise ball post nap and doing tons of labor "visioning." At my husband's insistance, I called to check in with our midwives (we'd been touching base with our doula all day) and the midwife on call told me that it was their offical recommendation that I come in for pitocin if I was not in active labor at the 24 hour mark. I spoke with her about the research I had done about pit increasing my risk as a VBAC mama for uterine rupture and the study I had read that found that women who had their babies up to 72 hours after their water had broken showed no increase of infection if they stayed at home until they were ready to deliever and had no cervical checks. She agreed that I was making the best medical decision for me and my baby, reiterated the signs of infection that I should be monitoring myself for and I agreed to check back in at 48 hours if I was not already in the birth center at that point or holding a newborn in my arms. I then went for a long walk and had a good cry because despite the fact that I was sure my research was solid and I was doing the best thing for my baby by doing nothing, I still was starting to feel like my body was letting me down by not going into active labor yet. However, I decided that either I trusted my body and God or I didn't and I would just have to trust a bit longer. That night, my contractions intensified during another three and a half hour session and were five minutes apart lasting one minute or longer, but once again, alas, they faded out.
Friday March 8
The second morning, I was feeling a little bit more panicked. I wasn't sure what the response would be if I checked in with the midwives that night and was still not in active labor. Luckily, my amazing doula came over and calmed me down. She brought with her a list of gentle, natural encouragement methods (from Susan Weed's herbal book) we could try that would be far less dangerous than pit for me. Although I am not in favor of induction at all in normal circumstances (I know there are certain medical circumstances in which it is advisable, but in general I feel it's best to let nature take its course), I figured my water breaking was a sign that my baby was ready to be born and maybe just needed a little encouragement. So, that day, I:
1. Did an intensive hypnotherapy session with my doula creating new birth goals and relaxation while having castor oil applied topically to my belly and benefitting from essential oils.
2. Did some homeopathic induction therapy
3. Walked again. A lot. While staying hydrated and taking breaks.
4. Bounced on the ball again.
5. Went to an acupuncturist for the first time. This did bring on some mild contractions, but nothing like the natural contractions I would have very randomly that were intensifying ever so slowly. It was a very strange, awkward experience and one day I will write that story because it is very funny and worth telling.
6. Did nipple stimulation three times. This brought on the best contractions, but they would always peter out after a few hours.
7. Did more aromatherapy with essential oils my doula had brought for me.
8. My usual positioning exercises only doubled.
Still at 48 hours, we were not in anything close to active labor. I called in as promised and got the midwife I had been seeing for the duration of my pregnancy. I was feeling pretty defeated and would have done anything she asked me to do, and she could hear the defeat in my voice (a first for me in the entire time I had been planning this VBAC). She told me that she did not think I was in the right mental place to face pit (a chemical I had privately labeled my nemesis in my last birth) and that she was not worried in the least that I or the baby was not okay. She knew I was monitoring myself and that my "home" bacteria were the least compromising bacteria I could be around. She told me that it was her "official recommendation as a midwife in the practice and a representative of the hospital that I come in after 24 hours of no labor after my water broke" BUT as MY midwife she thought I needed to rest, do whatever else I thought I needed to to induce labor gently and naturally and to come in the next morning or even the next evening for pit if I felt that was what was right. I agreed to do just that and asked directions to try castor oil (the only thing I had not tried yet); she gave me her recommendation and I hung up. My husband was freaking out at this point. He had been sure that we were going in that night for pit (as had I) and felt panicked at the thought of staying home even longer, but we had a long talk and I told him what I knew to be true. I was fine. The baby was fine and would remain fine and I needed rest and a new outlook if I were to have a successful VBAC in the near future.
That night, the night before my own birthday, I took castor oil shots chased with orange juice which aided in my nipple stimulation induced contractions and thoroughly cleaned me out, but did not put me into active labor although by morning my natural contractions were extremely strong, just still random. The next morning we woke up, walked the dog, I opened two birthday cards from my husband, kissed our son goodbye with many tears shed by all (this was far from the labor at home until the very end, leave only for the birth itself and then come home as soon as possible labor plan I had from the begining of my pregnancy), and headed on the road to the birth center to be put on pitocin once again. It had been about 63 hours since my water had broken. My "birth" story will be told in part 3.
Thanks for reading,
Shawna
It was Wednesday, March 6. Like all wednesdays were at the end of my pregnancy, this one was busy. In the morning, was my son's library story time (a highlight of his week), followed by a rush to make lunch and get dinner in the crockpot, than get my son down for his nap, then head out to a town 45 minutes away for my now weekly midwife appointments (there was only one midwife at that location, the closest to my home, and she is only there one day a week), than another 45 minute drive home when I would rush in to get dinner finished and on the table. This had been my routine for three weeks. As I was placing dinner on the table that night, though, something different happened. I felt a small gush of warm liquid. I'm not going to lie. My first thought was, "Crap. Not again. I don't want my water to break when I am not in labor yet!" My second thought was maybe the baby (always low in my 39th week) had put pressure on my bladder. I went to the bathroom and there was no more "leaking" so I thought maybe I could stop it with my kegels and that it wasn't really my water. However, immediately after leaving the bathroom, I started to feel squirts every time I took a step and there was no stopping them. It was my water breaking before labor. Again. I asked my husband to finish setting the dinner table, went upstairs, changed my clothes grabbed a poise pad (I had convieniently bought two large bags of them just in case) and told my family over dinner that my water had broken. My husband wanted to call everyone immediately, but I held him back knowing that labor could take awhile in coming (little did I know how long!). In the end we made four phone calls that night, one to each of our mothers as a heads up we could need child coverage that night, our doula, and our midwife practice because I wanted to make sure that a tub room would be available for me. We then double checked our labor bags, set them by the door, got out all our "birth day celebration" goodies we had bought for our son and his grandparents to decorate the house with while we were at the hospital birth center and went to bed early to rest up for the big day. Around ten, I started getting moderate contractions lasting about a minute and coming every five minutes and this lasted for about three hours, and I tried to rest through them knowing that active labor would be much harder. Gradually, they petered out and I started the next morning still not in active labor.
Thursday March 7
Friday March 8
The second morning, I was feeling a little bit more panicked. I wasn't sure what the response would be if I checked in with the midwives that night and was still not in active labor. Luckily, my amazing doula came over and calmed me down. She brought with her a list of gentle, natural encouragement methods (from Susan Weed's herbal book) we could try that would be far less dangerous than pit for me. Although I am not in favor of induction at all in normal circumstances (I know there are certain medical circumstances in which it is advisable, but in general I feel it's best to let nature take its course), I figured my water breaking was a sign that my baby was ready to be born and maybe just needed a little encouragement. So, that day, I:
1. Did an intensive hypnotherapy session with my doula creating new birth goals and relaxation while having castor oil applied topically to my belly and benefitting from essential oils.
2. Did some homeopathic induction therapy
3. Walked again. A lot. While staying hydrated and taking breaks.
4. Bounced on the ball again.
5. Went to an acupuncturist for the first time. This did bring on some mild contractions, but nothing like the natural contractions I would have very randomly that were intensifying ever so slowly. It was a very strange, awkward experience and one day I will write that story because it is very funny and worth telling.
6. Did nipple stimulation three times. This brought on the best contractions, but they would always peter out after a few hours.
7. Did more aromatherapy with essential oils my doula had brought for me.
8. My usual positioning exercises only doubled.
Still at 48 hours, we were not in anything close to active labor. I called in as promised and got the midwife I had been seeing for the duration of my pregnancy. I was feeling pretty defeated and would have done anything she asked me to do, and she could hear the defeat in my voice (a first for me in the entire time I had been planning this VBAC). She told me that she did not think I was in the right mental place to face pit (a chemical I had privately labeled my nemesis in my last birth) and that she was not worried in the least that I or the baby was not okay. She knew I was monitoring myself and that my "home" bacteria were the least compromising bacteria I could be around. She told me that it was her "official recommendation as a midwife in the practice and a representative of the hospital that I come in after 24 hours of no labor after my water broke" BUT as MY midwife she thought I needed to rest, do whatever else I thought I needed to to induce labor gently and naturally and to come in the next morning or even the next evening for pit if I felt that was what was right. I agreed to do just that and asked directions to try castor oil (the only thing I had not tried yet); she gave me her recommendation and I hung up. My husband was freaking out at this point. He had been sure that we were going in that night for pit (as had I) and felt panicked at the thought of staying home even longer, but we had a long talk and I told him what I knew to be true. I was fine. The baby was fine and would remain fine and I needed rest and a new outlook if I were to have a successful VBAC in the near future.
That night, the night before my own birthday, I took castor oil shots chased with orange juice which aided in my nipple stimulation induced contractions and thoroughly cleaned me out, but did not put me into active labor although by morning my natural contractions were extremely strong, just still random. The next morning we woke up, walked the dog, I opened two birthday cards from my husband, kissed our son goodbye with many tears shed by all (this was far from the labor at home until the very end, leave only for the birth itself and then come home as soon as possible labor plan I had from the begining of my pregnancy), and headed on the road to the birth center to be put on pitocin once again. It had been about 63 hours since my water had broken. My "birth" story will be told in part 3.
Thanks for reading,
Shawna
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Six Things to Do While You Wait to Give Birth in the Final Weeks of Your Pregnancy
1. Indulge in Your Favorite Hobbies.
Whether this is your first baby or not, it's sometimes hard to fathom the amount of "me" time that you will no longer have once you are caring for a newborn. An avid reader, pre-first child, I could not fathom that there would be days when the only time I would have available to me to read might be the two minutes in which I brushed my teeth at night while my husband held our son. There are days when a five minute shower is a luxury that must be fought for and must serve as your "alone" time for the entire day. I imagine this must be doubly true when it is not your first child you bring home, but your second (or third, fourth, fifth, etc.). So, spend these unexpected days of waiting indulging yourself a little. I've been embroidering and sewing a lot because it took me nearly a year after the birth of my first baby before I was able to embroider anything again. This time it may take longer. Might as well tackle the little projects that would ordinarily get put off!
2. Let Yourself Be a Little Lazy
This is one I'm really struggling with because I really want to have the house in good shape when the baby comes so that when I have to let it slide, it won't have as far to slide backwards. However, that said, I've been earnestly trying to let myself spend the day sitting if I feel way too tired or I've been trying to limit the amound of crazy cleaning/shopping/etc. I do on days that I have lots of pre-labor going on because I know that I have the marathon of labor in front of me and I want to be in top physical shape for it. So, when I feel I need to sleep/nap/rest I figure that I should because labor will wear me out and the more energy and strength I can bring into it, the better shape I will be in on the other side of it.
3.Eat Your Favorite Foods
I have terrible pregnancy reflux right now and am eating dairy free, so I can only do this within reason, but I've learned to look at every meal as if it is my last. I don't necessarily indulge myself by letting myself always have the fatty, sugary treats I might want, but I do make for myself my favorite protein rich, nutrient rich meals like spinach and sundried tomato omelets or homemade dairy free chicken pot pie, or even let myself eat out once in awhile. Those first few months after I have the baby, I know that we will mostly be eating the meals I have pre-frozen for us, but for now I look at each meal as my possible last meal before I go into labor. Why skimp and eat crap if I know that I could need whatever energy I get from that meal to carry me through who knows how many hours or even days of labor? My last labor I found that after the first ten hours or so, I just found it impossible to make myself eat anything, so in case that happens again, I'm trying to be very kind to myself right now. Besides, if this baby likes to nurse like my last one did (at every meal time), these may be the last warm meals I have for the next year or so!
4.Amuse Yourself by Considering Giving Honest Answers when People Ask "How are you doing?"
Okay, so maybe this is just my private hobby, but I sometimes get some good giggles by considering actually answering the cashier who notices the strange look on my face as I get a strong contraction as I'm checking out at the grocery store with an honest answer. "Ow, my uterus!" or "I'm okay. Just my cervix hurting as it ripens a little at a time." or "Everything's okay. I was just determining if I was really going into labor or not and trying to see if my water was breaking." The internal monologue of a very pregnant, "due" woman is not something that most of the world is ready to hear about, but it makes me laugh to think of telling them anyway just to see their reaction.
5.Read a Book/Watch a Movie About Climbing a Mountain or Some Other Inspiring Feat
Currently, I am reading a book about George Mallory (the climber who attempted to climb Mt. Everest three times between 1915 and 1924 and whose body was found on Mt. Everest in 1999 who may or may not have been the first to reach the peak, but there's no evidence as to whether or not he actually made it on his last attempt). Why I like doing this right before I know I'm going into labor is two-fold. One, it's entertaining and it reminds me that there is a world outside of whether or not I am going into labor today and two, I get a kick out of thinking about the challenges people put in front of themselves to conquer and the passion and the lengths they will go to in order to reach their goal. (I consider my VBAC my own, personal Everest.) This is especially true for men, in particular. I really wonder if Mallory would have been so intent to climb all those mountains if he had just been born a woman and could realize the challenge and satisfaction to be had in giving birth! Maybe he still would have needed mountains to climb, but maybe not!
6. Spend a Little Extra Time Enjoying Your Life
A new baby is a new beginning for your entire family, but it is also an ending. Something I wasn't really prepared for when I had my first baby was the way I would miss and mourn my former life. As much as I was ready to be a mother and desperately wanted that chapter of our lives to begin, life with my son irrevocably changed our life as a couple. There were growing pains on both sides and sometimes it was quite a struggle to see where "we" had gone. I am better prepared this time to understand that whatever amazingly good that may happen in the next few hours/days/weeks, I will also have to say good-bye to the life I love that consists of just my husband, my son, and me. So, I'm trying to soak up the bittersweet hours where it's easy to find time to wrap both arms around my (currently) only child and spend a little extra time looking at and talking with my husband before there are two little voices to drown him out (temporarily, but still!). I'm trying to enjoy outings that are much simpler without all the paraphenalia a newborn entails and with only one nap a day to plan around. I know that having another child is abosolutely the right thing for us and is everything we want to have happen any day now, but I also want (this time) to recognize, enjoy, and savor the final joyful days of being a family of three. I know that these days will seem like simpler times when our fourth arrives. It's a little like enjoying the last days of summer before moving on to the next grade of school. Sure, you are excited about what the next year will bring and you want to see the challenges you know that you are ready for, but it does feel good to sleep in those final days (or sleep at all in the case of impending newborn motherhood!).
Thanks for Reading!
Shawna
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
What's Sex Got to Do With It?: Learning to Appreciate Your Baby No Matter What
Recently, I overheard a family at a restaurant being asked about the sex of their newborn baby while their beautiful (and I mean GORGEOUS, curly haired, obviously very spirited) preschooler proudly stood near by. The mother sighed and said "It's another little girl. We tried for two boys and we're stuck with two girls. What can I say? We're cursed." I know that little girl heard every word her mother said and although her mother may not have meant it literally, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the first or even the last time these sweet little girls would hear such a "joke" from someone that they have the right to believe will love and protect them the most. It also made me really examine myself and some feelings I've had during this pregnancy.
You see, before I ever got pregnant the first time, I had dreams of having a little girl. I knew what to call her. I knew the talks I wanted to have with her. I daydreamed about what life would be with her. But then I got pregnant and almost from the very beginning, I had the strong feeling I had a little boy. So strong in fact, that when I was told at 23 weeks that I was pregnant with a girl, I couldn't stop crying because I felt like someone had stolen the little boy I had bonded to away from me. For five weeks, I tried to make peace with the news that I was not having a boy, but was having a girl. Then, at another ultrasound, a different technician asked me if we knew what we were having. Wishing to know her unbiased opinion, I asked her what she thought we were having and she replied, "Well, I can't tell for sure because this baby has a foot in the way, but I think these might be testicles." My husband was shocked and dismayed to find out that we may not, in fact, "know" for sure what we were having, but I was thrilled. The little boy I had bonded with was back in the picture. A little over four months later, our son was born.
After having my son, I loved him to pieces, but a part of me still dreamed of having a little girl. I'll admit many of my dreams bear the gender stereotypes of wanting to go dress shopping, bond over sewing/cooking, and just engaging in "girl talk" as well as finally getting to visit the larger half of the baby section where all the really cute baby clothes are. (Which of course, depending on the daughter might never come true or might even come true with a boy just as well as a girl. . . a son could love sewing and shopping just as much as a daughter.) When I felt overwhelmed by motherhood and worried that maybe I couldn't handle another baby, I would look at my friend's daughters and think, but if I quit now, I would never have a daughter!
This time, when we finally got pregnant, I felt for sure I knew the sex again only to go into the ultrasound once more and be told the opposite. Once again, I felt it difficult to make peace with the new information. Because the ultrasound had been wrong before and we are likely having no new ones this pregnancy, I have not made the information public in case it is wrong again, but privately, I struggled to make peace with what might prove to be a dashed expectation. The baby I thought I knew so well early on, might not be who I thought this baby would be!
Yet, hearing that mother complaining aloud about the sex of her children, made me really think about how much sex really doesn't matter in the long run. My dreams of having a little girl pre-children were quickly surpassed by the wonderful reality of life with my son. The early "knowledge" I felt I had about this baby, should it prove wrong, would do nothing to surpass the blessing I have in having another little soul entrusted in my care no matter what sex s/he turns out to be. With so many would be mothers struggling out there to have any children, how can I or any other lucky parent really complain about getting a child of a sex we were not expecting or (in case of the mother in the restaurant) maybe didn't want initially? After all, child's personality is far more important, interesting, and compelling than just whether or not s/he is declared a boy or girl at birth. We become obsessed with finding out whether or not a child is a boy or a girl because we think that gives us a shortcut into knowing what they are going to be like growing up or as grown ups, but honestly, sex is no more indicative of who our children are than their birth weight or height proves to be. It is just one piece of the information. It would be my honor at this point to birth another boy, a girl, or even a hermaphrodite because what is most important is the soul inside and the bond that we will build together. I hope that everyone who ever wants a baby is "cursed" the way that lucky mother was "cursed" in that she dreamed of having a family and now she has one. I only hope that wherever she is, she soon learns that her two little girls are just as precious and as wonderful as her two dream sons would have been, maybe even more so because they are real, they are here, and they are more than just a box marked "female" on their birth certificates.
Thanks for reading,
Shawna
You see, before I ever got pregnant the first time, I had dreams of having a little girl. I knew what to call her. I knew the talks I wanted to have with her. I daydreamed about what life would be with her. But then I got pregnant and almost from the very beginning, I had the strong feeling I had a little boy. So strong in fact, that when I was told at 23 weeks that I was pregnant with a girl, I couldn't stop crying because I felt like someone had stolen the little boy I had bonded to away from me. For five weeks, I tried to make peace with the news that I was not having a boy, but was having a girl. Then, at another ultrasound, a different technician asked me if we knew what we were having. Wishing to know her unbiased opinion, I asked her what she thought we were having and she replied, "Well, I can't tell for sure because this baby has a foot in the way, but I think these might be testicles." My husband was shocked and dismayed to find out that we may not, in fact, "know" for sure what we were having, but I was thrilled. The little boy I had bonded with was back in the picture. A little over four months later, our son was born.
After having my son, I loved him to pieces, but a part of me still dreamed of having a little girl. I'll admit many of my dreams bear the gender stereotypes of wanting to go dress shopping, bond over sewing/cooking, and just engaging in "girl talk" as well as finally getting to visit the larger half of the baby section where all the really cute baby clothes are. (Which of course, depending on the daughter might never come true or might even come true with a boy just as well as a girl. . . a son could love sewing and shopping just as much as a daughter.) When I felt overwhelmed by motherhood and worried that maybe I couldn't handle another baby, I would look at my friend's daughters and think, but if I quit now, I would never have a daughter!
This time, when we finally got pregnant, I felt for sure I knew the sex again only to go into the ultrasound once more and be told the opposite. Once again, I felt it difficult to make peace with the new information. Because the ultrasound had been wrong before and we are likely having no new ones this pregnancy, I have not made the information public in case it is wrong again, but privately, I struggled to make peace with what might prove to be a dashed expectation. The baby I thought I knew so well early on, might not be who I thought this baby would be!
Yet, hearing that mother complaining aloud about the sex of her children, made me really think about how much sex really doesn't matter in the long run. My dreams of having a little girl pre-children were quickly surpassed by the wonderful reality of life with my son. The early "knowledge" I felt I had about this baby, should it prove wrong, would do nothing to surpass the blessing I have in having another little soul entrusted in my care no matter what sex s/he turns out to be. With so many would be mothers struggling out there to have any children, how can I or any other lucky parent really complain about getting a child of a sex we were not expecting or (in case of the mother in the restaurant) maybe didn't want initially? After all, child's personality is far more important, interesting, and compelling than just whether or not s/he is declared a boy or girl at birth. We become obsessed with finding out whether or not a child is a boy or a girl because we think that gives us a shortcut into knowing what they are going to be like growing up or as grown ups, but honestly, sex is no more indicative of who our children are than their birth weight or height proves to be. It is just one piece of the information. It would be my honor at this point to birth another boy, a girl, or even a hermaphrodite because what is most important is the soul inside and the bond that we will build together. I hope that everyone who ever wants a baby is "cursed" the way that lucky mother was "cursed" in that she dreamed of having a family and now she has one. I only hope that wherever she is, she soon learns that her two little girls are just as precious and as wonderful as her two dream sons would have been, maybe even more so because they are real, they are here, and they are more than just a box marked "female" on their birth certificates.
Thanks for reading,
Shawna
Monday, December 3, 2012
one and done
My husband and I are young. I'm 30 and he's 32. So I say the following with the caveat that there is plenty of time should we change our minds. But I don't think we will.
See, before having kids I was always so sure that two would be our perfect number. Now, now I think that what we have shouldn't be messed with. I can't even fathom adding another person into the mix.
Before Gwen, there was such intense longing for a baby. Now, I feel no need for a second child, no desire to upset our balance, no longing to go through the baby stages again. I feel content with Gwen, complete as our unit.
Sure, in the back of my mind there is a little voice that whispers of the relationship I have with my brother, Ethan, and our amazing bond. A little part of me feels badly "denying" Gwen that relationship. I wonder if I'm forcing her to miss out on a great relationship and a ton of memories? Denying her future kids the pleasure of Aunts and Uncles? Making things harder for her when Trav and I get old and she has to deal with us on her own?
But who is to say that a sibling would be any of those things to her?
If we did have another, I'm positive the love would be there. I'm sure that I would take my first glances at the little one that had grown in my womb and feel nothing but amazement. I would wonder how we ever considered not doing it.
But would we be able to do less of certain things? Less of the traveling we want to do with Gwen? Less one-on-one? And its silly, but I worry what if I don't love the second one as much? Or worse, what if I love it more?
From an AP standpoint, would I be able to parent the way I wanted with a very attached little girl, and a newborn in need of much attention? Would I get touched out that much sooner? Would have have the "gas" to get me through 3 more years of breastfeeding if that's what the babe decided? I would have patience enough for Gwen and a second, when sometimes I feel I don't have enough patience for just my almost 3 year old? Would I be able to find and keep a balance in my life, between being the hands on Mama I love being while still being a wife and sometimes just Meegs? Something I'm really just getting a handle on now?
Recently, I visited with a friend and her newborn baby boy. I adore babies, I really do, and I loved every second of holding and snuggling with the grumpy little old man. But it really hit me at that moment, as much as I loved holding and snuggling this baby... I am happy not to do it again. I don't want sleepless nights and crying that I'm not sure how to fix. I don't want the helplessness. I don't.
We remind ourselves that decisions at this point don't have to be infinitely binding. That my brother and I are close as can be at 7 years apart. But at this point we've given away all the baby clothes. We've started giving away all the gear. And eventually, "not deciding" will be a decision.
How many kids do you have? If you have one, will you have more? Why or why not? If you have more then one, how did you know having number two (etc) was what was right for you?
See, before having kids I was always so sure that two would be our perfect number. Now, now I think that what we have shouldn't be messed with. I can't even fathom adding another person into the mix.
Before Gwen, there was such intense longing for a baby. Now, I feel no need for a second child, no desire to upset our balance, no longing to go through the baby stages again. I feel content with Gwen, complete as our unit.
Sure, in the back of my mind there is a little voice that whispers of the relationship I have with my brother, Ethan, and our amazing bond. A little part of me feels badly "denying" Gwen that relationship. I wonder if I'm forcing her to miss out on a great relationship and a ton of memories? Denying her future kids the pleasure of Aunts and Uncles? Making things harder for her when Trav and I get old and she has to deal with us on her own?
But who is to say that a sibling would be any of those things to her?
If we did have another, I'm positive the love would be there. I'm sure that I would take my first glances at the little one that had grown in my womb and feel nothing but amazement. I would wonder how we ever considered not doing it.
But would we be able to do less of certain things? Less of the traveling we want to do with Gwen? Less one-on-one? And its silly, but I worry what if I don't love the second one as much? Or worse, what if I love it more?
From an AP standpoint, would I be able to parent the way I wanted with a very attached little girl, and a newborn in need of much attention? Would I get touched out that much sooner? Would have have the "gas" to get me through 3 more years of breastfeeding if that's what the babe decided? I would have patience enough for Gwen and a second, when sometimes I feel I don't have enough patience for just my almost 3 year old? Would I be able to find and keep a balance in my life, between being the hands on Mama I love being while still being a wife and sometimes just Meegs? Something I'm really just getting a handle on now?
Recently, I visited with a friend and her newborn baby boy. I adore babies, I really do, and I loved every second of holding and snuggling with the grumpy little old man. But it really hit me at that moment, as much as I loved holding and snuggling this baby... I am happy not to do it again. I don't want sleepless nights and crying that I'm not sure how to fix. I don't want the helplessness. I don't.
We remind ourselves that decisions at this point don't have to be infinitely binding. That my brother and I are close as can be at 7 years apart. But at this point we've given away all the baby clothes. We've started giving away all the gear. And eventually, "not deciding" will be a decision.
How many kids do you have? If you have one, will you have more? Why or why not? If you have more then one, how did you know having number two (etc) was what was right for you?
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Pregnancy Is Hard Work
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| Me at 34 weeks with this pregnancy |
Yes, pregnancy has a glow, pregnancy is a miracle, but pregnancy is hard work. Let's face it, you're growing another human being within your own body, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses. Just like other aspects of motherhood, there are goods and bads.
Your body is going through so many changes, not to mention the flood of hormones making you feel like a crazy person. Your ligaments are all loosening for birth so you end up either in pain or walking like a turtle, unless you're lucky. Your center of balance is off so if you try to squat in front of your five year old to talk you may end up flat on your butt in front of everyone in church wondering how that happened. Sleeping is all you want to do, but if you get hit with pregnancy insomnia, which I still say is a very cruel joke, you just feel run down all the time. And then there's the peeing all the time, the bowling ball growing between your legs, the kicks and punches to your cervix, the times when baby rubs you sciatic nerve and an entire leg almost falls out from under you.
Isn't pregnancy glamorous?
And yet, I wouldn't change anything.
I'm bigger than I've been in my entire life, but I wear the extra weight and belly that does look surprisingly like a basketball when I'm wearing clothes like a badge of honor. My body may suck at a lot of things, but this time, it's growing a baby the way I've always wanted and craved. I'm sore and miserable and cranky, but when this baby rolls around and kicks inside me, I can't help but marvel at the miracle of it. I'm hungry all the time, but when I remember that my body is doing all the work for another human being, I make that next plate of spaghetti and feel so grateful that I am here.
I guess in the end, you take it all with either a smile or a growl or both, and that's okay. When people tell you not to complain, just smile, nod, and then as you walk away curse them to the bowels of hell if that's how you feel. No one knows what you've done to get to this point, no one knows how the pregnancy is wearing on your body, no one else but you can know how you feel.
So go ahead and complain. Go ahead and be happy. Go ahead and feel whatever you need to feel because pregnancy is hard work. And know that at any given time, there are probably thousands of other pregnant women around the world feeling run down, cranky, happy, and blessed with you.
Monday, October 22, 2012
a letter to my pregnant friends
I have a few friends who are pregnant right now. Seeing them in their
big bellied, glowing femininity, fills me with a bursting happiness. I
wish I could tell them, could really explain, all that they have in
store for them.
I would explain to them the distinct smell when
you press your nose into your newborn's hair. Show them milk-drunk
sleeping babies, and toddlers who snuggle into you in their sleep. I would tell them of the deep, deep glowing love that fills you when your baby stops crying simply because you hold them and talk to them.
I'd also show them exhausting late nights, hours walking in circles around a nursery or pacing a hallway to get your little one to settle. A baby who won't stop crying, or who only wants to be held. Constant nursing, difficult nursing.
Mama's to be: I tell you all this not to scare you, and not because anyone can in anyway prepare you, but because I want you to know a few things.
Most importantly, and above all else: you are enough, you will be enough, for you and your baby.
Though it may feel foreign to you at the beginning, and there may be challenges with things that you assume will come easy (natural doesn't always mean easy!), your body is strong and able.
You are not a perfect mom, but that is only because there is no such thing. Everyone is an "expert," but you, you are the one that knows your baby. There are times that you feel you don't know what you are doing, but the two of you will learn together. Accept advice, then dismiss what you know doesn't fit with your life, your baby. Listen to that fledgling Mama voice inside of you, it's there, and it gets stronger and more confident with every passing day.
It will be more frustrating, exhausting, and wonderful then you can ever imagine. The feeling the you get when you look at your baby is one that I wish I could bottle and give to everyone I love.
There will be bad days, but in the end Mama, in the end it is worth it a hundred times over. In the end you, the two of you, are enough.
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| Pregnancy Paper Cutting – By Zhang Xiaohng |
I'd also show them exhausting late nights, hours walking in circles around a nursery or pacing a hallway to get your little one to settle. A baby who won't stop crying, or who only wants to be held. Constant nursing, difficult nursing.
Mama's to be: I tell you all this not to scare you, and not because anyone can in anyway prepare you, but because I want you to know a few things.
Most importantly, and above all else: you are enough, you will be enough, for you and your baby.
Though it may feel foreign to you at the beginning, and there may be challenges with things that you assume will come easy (natural doesn't always mean easy!), your body is strong and able.
You are not a perfect mom, but that is only because there is no such thing. Everyone is an "expert," but you, you are the one that knows your baby. There are times that you feel you don't know what you are doing, but the two of you will learn together. Accept advice, then dismiss what you know doesn't fit with your life, your baby. Listen to that fledgling Mama voice inside of you, it's there, and it gets stronger and more confident with every passing day.
It will be more frustrating, exhausting, and wonderful then you can ever imagine. The feeling the you get when you look at your baby is one that I wish I could bottle and give to everyone I love.
There will be bad days, but in the end Mama, in the end it is worth it a hundred times over. In the end you, the two of you, are enough.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
10 Things I Learned from my First Labor
1. The pain is intense, but bearable as long as you only let yourself take it one contraction at a time and you do not let yourself get too far ahead of yourself. Live in the moment and don't worry about how much time you have left. Let the energy you have be all that you need.
2. Be open to whatever it is you feel you need. As much as you plan your labor ahead of time, the person you are when you labor is not who you are at any other time of your life. Give yourself whatever you need in the moment: time, a pep talk, a good cry, forgiveness, love, silence, music, a good swear, yelling, loud moaning. Don't judge yourself. Just let it be.
3. Let go of control. My first labor I was convinced that I could make my labor faster, easier, etc. as long as I did X-Y-Z. I thought only women who didn't know anything about how to have a successful, natural birth ended up with c-sections. I was wrong! That labor wasn't meant to be fast and labor is never meant to be easy. Trying to control it didn't do anything but frustrate me. This time I am much less attached to being in control.
4. The best thing a partner can do during labor is whatever it is that you like when not in labor. Before I went into labor, I had no idea what my husband would do while I was in labor. I had trouble seeing him as the "coaching type," but that's how I'd always seen fathers in movies. When the day came, my husband cracked jokes, made me laugh, and tried to be helpful. He was awkward at times, but he's like that ordinarily. Making me laugh is what I love most about him and that was the best thing he did during our labor.
5. Labor time is different. I used to wonder what the heck I would do with myself if I had a 15 hour labor. I ended up with a 27+ hour one and I can tell you that it was intense enough that I was never bored and although the hours were long, they just didn't pass the same way.
6. Turn off the outside world. I know the family members outside the state were all anxious to hear when the baby was born, but the check-in phone calls during labor were really disheartening while I was trying to make progress and more than a little distracting. This time, the ringer is being turned off! No one ever forgets to call once the baby finally arrives!
7. Bring a variety of different clothes if birthing outside the home. At times I was hot, sometimes I was freezing, I have never in my life before or since wanted to wear a bathing suit and a sweatshirt within ten minutes of one another, but man I was really sad I hadn't brought pants and a sweatshirt to my late July birth!
8. Protein is wonderful. Five hours into my labor, I cooked myself an omelet. Surreptitiously, I ate trail mix at the hospital. I wasn't all that hungry for the duration of that labor, so I tried to pack in energy food when I could.
9. Don't be too hard on yourself. Because I never gave up the illusion that I was in control, I also blamed myself when things didn't go as planned. It's important to protect your birth and its integrity, but part of that is not to judge yourself too harshly if things don't go as planned.
10. Everything will be okay eventually. I am not one of those who will ever say a healthy baby is all that's important. I think a physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy mom is equally important and that may not happen right away, but it will one day because you are strong; you are stronger than you could ever realize before you had children! Moms are the strongest people in the world.
Thanks for reading!
Shawna
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Reading List: Pregnancy and Birth
I spent more money than I care to admit on parenting how-to books as a new mom. I wanted to be sure I was doing everything "right," and, in spite of my own mother's advice ("Throw those books away and listen to your baby!") spent many a late night devouring everything I could.
I don't like parenting how-to and advice books much these days. First because every child truly is different (and I have three now, and can actually say that with some degree of certainty!) and so what works for one will not work for another. Second, because the only "expert" on my child is me. And third, and probably most important, most of those how-to books set us up to fail. Many of these well meaning advisors tell you that if you do A, you will achieve B, and when that doesn't happen, we blame ourselves, or worse, sometimes our children.
I do, however, love to read books about pregnancy, birth, parenting, and mothering, especially those written by parents and mothers who also happen to be authors. I'd like to share some titles that I've loved especially, so this is the first post in a series of three titled, Reading List: Pregnancy and Birth. I hope you will enjoy some of these books as much as I have and I'd love to hear from you if you have any titles to add.
1. A Child is Born. Just an extraordinary collection of pictures. There's a lot of information in there, too, if you're a bit of a pregnancy junkie. If you've experienced a pregnancy loss, some of the images in the book may be difficult to look at--so please keep that in mind.
2. Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth. Whether you like Jenny McCarthy or not, whether you agree with her stance on vaccines and autism or not, this book is hysterical. I laughed out loud constantly and it was a great distraction when pregnancy seemed to last forever.
3. Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. A fantastic choice if you're considering natural birth or want to learn more about it. (I cringe a bit at the word "Guide," as I don't think anyone can really guide you to give birth, but it's still chock full of important and useful information.)
4. Your Best Birth. Written by Abby Epstein and Ricki Lake, this is a great read if you're interested in knowing your choices about prenatal care and birth in the US (and who isn't?!). It sheds light on many aspects of maternity care and childirth in the US.
5. Pushed: The Painful Truth About Childbirth and Modern Maternity Care. The title sounds a little scary, but this is a good book if you're planning to give birth in a hospital and want it to be drug free and natural. Some of the wording can sound a bit alarmist, so take it with a grain of salt and remember that YOU are your best advocate, and education is key.
6. Evidence of Harm: Mercury in Vaccines and the Autism Epidemic: A Medical Controversy. A must, must, MUST read if you are questioning vaccinations. I can't say enough how much this book changed my outlook and opened my eyes to so many different aspects of the vaccination debate. I will never look at government, pharmaceutical companies, and the medical establishment the same again.
7. What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Children's Vaccinations. I wish the author would publish an updated version of this book. It's got great information but some of it is slightly outdated. That said, I learned a great deal about how vaccines are made, the ingredients, possible adverse effects, and manufacturing issues.
8. The Vaccine Book: Making the Right Decision for Your Child (Sears Parenting Library). By far the best and most comprehensive guide to vaccinations today. Dr. Sears is intelligent, objective, and remains respectful of parents' choices. There are also a few alternate vaccination schedules, one of which our family follows, which are invaluable.
2. Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth. Whether you like Jenny McCarthy or not, whether you agree with her stance on vaccines and autism or not, this book is hysterical. I laughed out loud constantly and it was a great distraction when pregnancy seemed to last forever.
3. Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. A fantastic choice if you're considering natural birth or want to learn more about it. (I cringe a bit at the word "Guide," as I don't think anyone can really guide you to give birth, but it's still chock full of important and useful information.)
4. Your Best Birth. Written by Abby Epstein and Ricki Lake, this is a great read if you're interested in knowing your choices about prenatal care and birth in the US (and who isn't?!). It sheds light on many aspects of maternity care and childirth in the US.
5. Pushed: The Painful Truth About Childbirth and Modern Maternity Care. The title sounds a little scary, but this is a good book if you're planning to give birth in a hospital and want it to be drug free and natural. Some of the wording can sound a bit alarmist, so take it with a grain of salt and remember that YOU are your best advocate, and education is key.
6. Evidence of Harm: Mercury in Vaccines and the Autism Epidemic: A Medical Controversy. A must, must, MUST read if you are questioning vaccinations. I can't say enough how much this book changed my outlook and opened my eyes to so many different aspects of the vaccination debate. I will never look at government, pharmaceutical companies, and the medical establishment the same again.
7. What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Children's Vaccinations. I wish the author would publish an updated version of this book. It's got great information but some of it is slightly outdated. That said, I learned a great deal about how vaccines are made, the ingredients, possible adverse effects, and manufacturing issues.
8. The Vaccine Book: Making the Right Decision for Your Child (Sears Parenting Library). By far the best and most comprehensive guide to vaccinations today. Dr. Sears is intelligent, objective, and remains respectful of parents' choices. There are also a few alternate vaccination schedules, one of which our family follows, which are invaluable.
All of these titles are available on Amazon.com. Happy reading!
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