Why Changing Birth Culture is Important for Our Sons as well as Our Daughters

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

A Woman's Birth Deserves Respect

I've hinted at a few things people have told me about my freebirth, but one that is permanently fixed in my mind is someone giving my baby a nickname having to do with the color of the water when she was born.

Someone decided to give her the nickname "Jello baby" because the water was red when my husband sent out the announcement picture.  She had been born less than 10 minutes before, so we were still in the pool, and yes, I bled in the water (which happens in a waterbirth) so the water was red.

Now, if this nickname was because she's a chubby baby, I wouldn't care.  I never thought I would have a chubby baby and I'm loving it, so the nickname for that would be endearing to me.  But simply because you are making fun of how she was born because it's not a common choice?  That is not okay on any level.

Let's say I had a hospital birth or another cesarean, whether scheduled or not.  If our announcement of her birth had been sent out with me in the hospital holding her, or of her in the OR, or anything like that, no one would dare make a nickname based on that.  There would be no jokes about how the room looked, how she looked, what I was wearing or where I had her.  Everyone would be so supportive of our choice to have her in a setting they understand.

The thing is, it doesn't bug me as much as it did when I heard the nickname the first time.  What bugs me is that women that give birth in a situation others don't understand have to face scrutiny for it.  Sneers and jokes and comments about bravery and risks.  It doesn't stop.

Just like how we need to take control of our own births, we need to respect the births of others and not poke fun at them if they are different than the "normal" birth we imagine.

There is a huge difference between spreading information on birth choices and picking the births apart for a joke.  There is a huge difference between sharing links and resources with someone looking for change or hoping to help someone feel empowered in their own choices and hoping they don't see the underlying mean spirit.

I am not ashamed of my birth choices.  What makes me feel ashamed is how others treat those choices.  When other homebirthing mothers call me brave and roll their eyes, I wonder what I am lacking in their eyes.  When women hear about my birth and then instantly change the subject it makes me wonder what was so wrong with my choice that I can't talk about it like I could if I had chosen to have my baby in the hospital.

I hate that I feel I have to justify my choice to others.

No woman should have to justify her choice for her birth.  You may not agree, I know I don't agree with many choices others make, but that doesn't give anyone the right to make them feel less because of it.

If we want to change the way that women birth, we have to believe their birth was special.  It doesn't matter how they birth, it was special.  A mother is created, and a baby is born.  How is that not one of the most special things that anyone can do in their life?  Creating life should be treated as the sacred act that it is, regardless of how that came about.

We all deserve to take power from our births, and that starts with changing the way we treat the births of others.

Anniversary of a Freebirth

It's been a little over one year since our little miracle entered our lives.  Everyday she helps us in ways I didn't even know we needed.

Her birthday brought up so many memories.  All that happened just to get pregnant with her, all the emotions of that whirlwind pregnancy, but especially her birth.

Her pregnancy and birth were the single greatest things I've ever done.

To preface, freebirth isn't for everyone.  It isn't meant to be.  We decided before we even got pregnant that freebirth was something we were very interested in, and once we got pregnant, it felt like the best decision for our family.

The beginning of the pregnancy I felt safer seeing a provider than not.  I had some bleeding and I needed to see my baby. I had three ultrasounds from six to eleven weeks, and discovered I have a bicornuate uterus in the process, but that is for another post.

I saw a high risk OB an hour away, and once I felt safe on my own, I cut care.

From eleven weeks on, I did my own care.  Every four weeks I did an actual "prenatal", but only to satisfy my curiosity.  I loved knowing what my body was doing.  I loved being in charge of what happened to me.  I didn't use a Doppler, only a fetoscope, and that was an amazing experience.  I got to know my baby.

I was able to hear her placenta, her cord, figure out her position, what she liked and didn't like.  It was incredible to me.

At 27 weeks I was admitted to the hospital.  I got the same stomach bug that hit my oldest daughter, and when I get dehydrated, I contract.  A lot.  By the time they were able to insert my IV, I was contracting every two minutes.  Some medication, fluids, and rest and I went home.

From that point on, my baby sat very low, and I contracted all the time.  I was cranky.

The biggest issue with a bicornuate uterus is a very high chance of breech, and I was prepared (and even a little excited) for that possibility.  However, my baby was head down at 22 weeks and stayed firmly that way.  Probably for the best, I didn't need another thing for my mind to focus on.

Time went on, I stayed pregnant with no other major issues, and finally it was time for our birth.

I labored mostly on my own.  Every now and then I needed some pressure on my back, but until I started pushing I was good just being left alone.  I was laughing and talking until an hour before she was born.  Once I started pushing, I needed my husband.  He held me while I leaned onto him.  I couldn't focus, the only thing I knew was that I needed to push and that baby needed to be out of me.  Nothing could have stopped me.

In hindsight, it's probably best we chose to have a freebirth.  By the time active labor hit, I would have refused to move, and it was only about 40 minutes later she was born. 

The moment she was born was phenomenal.  Having had a cesarean, seven losses, and then my body actually did what it was supposed to do was incredible!  I couldn't believe it.  I couldn't believe we actually had a baby.

All the trials, the losses, the four years of trying to get pregnant, and here she was!

Fourteen months later I still am in awe half the time.

I haven't written much on that pregnancy, though I do have my birth story up HERE, and maybe someday I will.  That pregnancy tested my faith, my hope, my everything more than anything in my life.  Her birth healed it and so much more.

It isn't often that one simple act can change how you see past events, but her birth did that for me.  My cesarean is seen in a different light, my losses, our pain.  Everything is now different because of her.

Her birth gave me back something I lost a long time ago.  Her birth gave me back my hope.

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.

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

The Road to Healing

Every year my oldest daughter's birthday comes around and I am taken back to when she was born.  I rework her birth story, add more understanding and less anger.  Though nothing could have prepared me for how her birth would feel after having my Freebirth.

Her cesarean has always been hard for me to deal with.  I'm able to talk about it most times now without stumbling and crying, I can talk to some of the people that caused the reasons for her cesarean without wanting to run away, but now knowing that my body was never broken, that it simply needed no one to mess with it?  I now have an entirely different perspective.

I know that most women won't have the birth I did.  Unassisted Birth, or Freebirth, isn't for everyone.  It isn't meant to be.  You take an even more direct approach to your own care, and you have to reach deep down to become in tune with your intuition.  Some women need another person in charge to rely on.  Others don't want to take completely responsibility for their birth.  Even more don't care.

However, my Freebirth almost eight months ago opened my eyes.

Six years ago I was told things would end differently.  A supposedly term baby, a very "unrisky" procedure, and the possibility of a cesarean if she didn't turn from breech.  I didn't think much beyond that.

Every bad thing that could happen did.  I had a cesarean, my "term" baby couldn't breathe, and I had PPD/PTSD for months after.  I didn't bond, didn't feel much of anything for her other than responsibility.

Now having had my Freebirth, having had that instant bond, I know a few things in the shadow of six years.

The procedure before could have killed her and was completely unnecessary and even more dangerous now that I know about my bicornuate uterus, but the cesarean I despise saved her life.

That may not sound like much, but this is a huge step for me.  One that I see is a step in the way of healing.

They saved her life and inadvertently created the birth of my second.  I don't know if I would have found this path without the trauma caused, but I can now be a little bit grateful for it.

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

Six Things to Do While You Wait to Give Birth in the Final Weeks of Your Pregnancy

So, babies come on their own schedule and this baby seems to have a plan completely different than his/her brother did. You see, this baby has already been in an entire week longer than my son was. Also, this time, my body seems to have learned its lesson on having no pre-labor and just trying to do everything at once and, this time, seems content to do lots of prodromal or pre-labor. (As a matter of fact, for the last three days, my body has decided to work on labor for about an hour or two every night at about the same time and then just decides "that's enough for the night" and quits.) I know that this baby already has a birth date in mind for him/herself, and that it is very important for the health of the baby and the success of my VBAC to allow this baby to come to fruition in his/her own time, but, in the meantime, I'm left with a lot of waiting that I didn't have to do with my first child and I have to come up with ways to spend it that won't (A) overtax me because I could go into labor any day now, (B) won't cause ongoing stress if I were to go into labor any day now (so no "big projects" that would have to lay around messing up the house for months while I have a newborn and no time to finish them), and (C) still allow me to do the things I need to do to keep the house stocked and ready for that moment when the baby does come. All this is in addition to ignoring the well meaning prods from people I know about why I can't just have that baby already and trying to keep my sense of humor intact as the baby grows ever larger, my body grows ever more tired, and I become ever more uncomfortable and feel less and less like doing anything. If you are in this same boat with me, I present this list of things to do while you wait in the final weeks with both sincerity and humor. Just keep reminding yourself that all babies come out . . . eventually!

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

Time To Break The Silence

Two months ago, I had a freebirth, and it was the best experience of my life.

Since, it hasn't been the easiest transition with breastfeeding and having a five year old that is used to undivided attention, but I could always look back at my birth and remember how empowered I felt, how amazing it felt, and just remembering the moment I pulled her out of the water could make me smile.

Since having my freebirth (after having a cesarean with my first), I haven't been shy about telling anyone and everyone about it.  I was nervous the whole pregnancy about discussing our plans because of fear and worry, and honestly, I didn't want people to judge me or call me brave or discuss the risks I was taking.  Ever since?  I can't seem to shut up about it.  Which is how birth should be, in my opinion. Women should want to share their experiences.

Anywho, I have had no trouble since she was born discussing her birth, why we chose to have a freebirth, who was there, what we did to prepare, and all that jazz.  Most people would change the subject if they got uncomfortable with it, or they would say I'm "brave" (an entire issue all in itself).  Some have made fun of my baby by giving her a nickname based on the color of the pool water when my husband sent out the announcement text (probably 15 minutes after she was born so I was still in the pool and yes, it was red, but yes, to me it was the perfect announcement).  Others just talk behind my back.

Until yesterday.

I went to the CNM in my area for a diaphragm, and the nurse took my history, finding out our second daughter was born at home, but she thought it was really neat we informed ourselves and made the choice right for our family.  Then comes the CNM.

She looks through my history, sees the homebirth information and asks which midwife in the area we had at the birth.  I told her we didn't have a midwife, and so she decides to go on a rampage about how she had a dead homebirth VBAC baby come in last week and if we have more children we need to rethink the risks we are taking because they are very real, very dangerous, and it's likely one of us would die if we tried again.

Now, this was just after we finished talking about the seven babies we lost inbetween our daughters.  I know how much it hurts to have a baby die.  I've lived that over and over.  I would never take that big of a risk just to have a freebirth.  I knew my limits, I knew my baby's limits, and in the end, we rocked it.  I would have transferred in a heartbeat if I even felt something was off.

After she told me this, I couldn't even speak.  I know a lot of VBAC moms get played the "dead baby" card, but they are normally PREGNANT when it happens, not holding their 9 week old and just asking for birth control.

I left the office after so angry I was almost in tears.

I've had a lot of bad providers in the last five years.  Some that wouldn't listen, others that just patted me on the head, but this?  This was the worst.

It made me realize something though.  Providers only go as far as we let them go.  I needed to get the diaphragm, so I couldn't leave the office yet before she did the exam and ordered it for me.  So she kept talking.  Had I left or been able to leave?  The situation would have been entirely different.

How many times as women are we forced to sit through a situation where someone talks down to us and we aren't able to leave because we either need something, want something, or are just too afraid of the consequences?

Providers won't learn if we keep sitting through it.  Providers are still telling women their baby will die, and hoping they scare them enough they stay.  Providers are hoping that we sit through it, and some of it seeps into our mind and stays there.

Pregnant women are prone to worry more than others.  You're caring for two people at the same time, one of which is your growing baby.  It's easy to scare a pregnant woman.  I don't know anyone that would risk the life of their baby simply for an experience, but along the same line, providers shouldn't be downplaying that experience just so women don't walk out the door.

No, I didn't get a medal for my freebirth (though I think I totally should have ;) ), but that experience can never be taken away from me.  Instead of treating women like patients that don't know what they're doing, providers should be treating us like we are in charge of our births, because we are.

It doesn't matter where you're birthing, if you have an OB, an MFM, a Midwife, or no one at all, you should be getting the respect you deserve.

And if you're not?  Find another provider.  Interview, ask doulas in your area for recommendations, ask midwives or doctors what other providers they recommend.  The interview process is crucial to finding your fit.  You do not want to be sitting at an appointment wanting to punch your provider, but knowing you can't run away.

That is not how this system is supposed to work.

And if in the end you have no other choice, or feel like you have no choice, file a complaint.  I felt trapped listening to the CNM blather on about how my baby could have died, but that doesn't stop me from filing and hopefully helping her realize it is not okay to scare women.  We shouldn't be letting this cycle continue.  In the end, we might be the difference between a provider continuing the way they are or maybe stopping for one second before they say something.

We can't be silent any longer.  That starts for me today.

10 Things I Learned from my First Labor

Even though, ultimately, I ended up with a c-section. I did experience 26 hours of epidural free labor. As I prepare for my VBAC this early spring, I have been reflecting on what I have learned from that experience. Here is a short list!

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

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.

All of these titles are available on Amazon.com. Happy reading!

Letter to My Unborn Second Child

My Joy,
I call you "my joy" because that is what you already are to me. From the moment I knew that you were finally coming into our lives, joy is all I have felt when I think of you. It took us much longer to conceieve you than it did to conceive your older brother and so I think, maybe, I am already grateful for you because we had to fight for you more. Perhaps it is the idea that maybe we wouldn't have you that makes the knowledge that you are coming that much sweeter.

It is important for me to tell you that although you may be coming after your brother, you are no afterthought. You have been in my heart since the beginning. I never thought of when I would have a child; I only thought of when I would have children. Before we became pregnant with you, we were ready for you. We looked at our life and as full and as wonderful as it is with your brother, whom we love with all of our hearts, we saw the spaces that could only be filled by you. We bought this house and the second we saw your bedroom, I could only imagine you in it. I would walk down the hallways after putting your brother to bed and I would hear the future echo of you two giggling together. I would push him on the swings and I would look at the swing next to him and know where you were meant to be. You were always a member of our family, even though we didn't know you, yet.

I want you to know that I love being a mother with all of my heart, but I am not perfect at it. I cannot even say that I am great at it, but I do try to get a little better every day. You do inherit a much better mother than your brother first met because he has already taught me so much. I know and expect to learn even more from you and I want you to know that I am open to the lessons you want to teach me. I am just grateful for the oppurtunity to know you, love you, and to watch you blossom into whomever you are meant to be and I apologize in advance for the mistakes I will make with you. I am not always the mama I want to be, but I can promise you that even when I am at my worst, I will still love you. When you are at your worst, I can also promise you that I will remember my own mistakes and be kind and as gentle as I can be. We will learn to forgive, both ourselves, and each other, just as your brother and I are learning right now. I cannot promise that you will always like me or even love me; I'm not sure I always like me, but I can promise that I will always love and like you.

I want you to also know that your brother is an amazing person and he will teach you a lot. He has his faults and he can be a little temperamental (I think you'll find that he gets that from me. .. sorry!), but he also has a capacity to love that will only be fully realized when he finally meets you. He already thinks about you and asks when you are coming. He makes plans for you because, I'm afraid, he is a bit of a strong leader, but don't feel you have to follow his lead. He only does it because it is who he is and he will learn who you are by the way in which you tell him what you need. You will have rough patches here and there, but, growing up, I loved my brothers and you will love yours', too. By the time I was fourteen, I already knew that one of the best days of my life was the day I became a big sister and I'm sure your brother will feel the same about you. I have loved getting to know your brother all of his three years and I know that you will love him, too. As for your father, well, you sort of hit the jackpot there. From the very moment your brother was born, your father has been devoted to this family and I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone more excited than he is at the prospect of meeting you. He already loves you and dreams about you. He can't wait to hold and kiss you. (He's definitely the more fun one!)

I will close by letting you know that although we are anxious to meet you, we want you to wait until you are completely ready to be born. Your birthday is a secret for you to whisper to us when you are ready. I think I've found a doula and a midwife who will help us usher you into this world in the gentlest way possible. I look forward to showing the world what we can do together. I will know heaven when I can push you out and hold you in my arms. Until then, I am doing my best to prepare our lives for the miracle of you. Take care, little one.

All my love,
Mama

Victoria's Birth

As promised, here is the birth story of my third child, born in April of this year. 

I was 22 weeks pregnant with my third child when my midwife told me that she would be retiring effective a few weeks before my due date. “Just give me another month,” she said. “I know I can get coverage in time to be able to deliver your baby.”

I live in New York, where certified nurse midwives (CNMs) can’t attend births in hospitals without a written agreement for backup with a licensed OB/Gyn. My due date was in mid-April, and my midwife was retiring at the end of March. She was hopeful that she could get someone to agree to cover her just for my birth, even though technically she would be retired. But there was no way I was going to wait a month to see if she could get coverage, and then making it even more difficult for me to find an alternative if she couldn’t. At the time, I adored my midwife and I was so upset that I would have to switch care, especially in the middle of my pregnancy.

As it turns out, my former midwife did me a favor. Never one to sit on things, I started calling midwifery practices as soon as I left her office, going in and out of a corner Starbucks to protect myself from the drizzling rain that chilly evening. I was incredibly fortunate to get a slot with a group of midwives I had considered with my previous pregnancy, and after the orientation, I knew I had made the right decision.

Being with this group of midwives meant that I would have a chance to deliver at the ever popular, and notoriously difficult to get into, Birthing Center within St. Luke’s Roosevelt Hospital. It was an amazing opportunity to finally have the birth I was hoping for, and one I would not have had with my former midwife (she was attending births at another hospital).

I tend to think that location is not as important as your support system. I think if you trust your birth attendant, for the most part the location comes second, though it also matters, of course (there are always exceptions). I knew a fair amount about this group of midwives from researching their practice and as I got to know each of them, I felt a great sense of relief and trust that they would be my advocates no matter where I ended up giving birth. Now that the Birthing Center had been dangled in my face, however, I wanted in.

This is a birth story, not a midwife recommendation, but I cannot write about this experience without discussing the fantastic care I received from this group. They advocate for, and trust, women. I commented to my husband after each visit what incredible listeners each of the midwives were and how comforting their advice always was. I was never rushed, never felt disrespected or stupid for asking any question, and my concerns were always addressed. Not a hand was placed on me without asking my permission—I was treated like an intelligent adult and my opinions and instincts concerning my pregnancy mattered.

It occurs to me that all of the above should be the standard—the fact that it was a new experience for me speaks to how much in need of improvement our medical system is, in particular our maternity care.  After years of “hand on the door” treatment, after the birth of my son, which left me emotionally and physically broken, after feeling essentially dumped by my former midwife—the type of care I received this time around was honestly something I had never expected.

Getting ready for this birth had meant I had to reconcile my feelings about my last birth. Though wonderful and life changing in its own right, it was also extremely stressful. Having your water break in the car somewhere in Manhattan while your husband is cursing at pedestrians is not exactly peaceful. This time my hope was to have a natural birth, but also a peaceful one, where I could appreciate the sensations and emotions. I knew I wanted to sit on a birthing ball and labor in water for as long as possible. I had bought a birthing gown, had a relaxation CD loaded into my iPod, had plenty of snacks, a picture of my kids to use as a focal point, good smelling lotion for massages—I was ready.

As I said in my previous birth story, each of my pregnancies and births has taught me something, and this one was no different. My darling Victoria took her time coming, making my pregnancy with her the longest and testing my limits and patience (both of which are very short).  She was in position for a good two weeks, moving down and pressing on my pelvis, making me feel like she was going to drop out any minute.

I had “pre-labor” symptoms from week 35 on. Then, I had almost two weeks of prodromal labor. I woke up every night around 3 a.m. with intense back pain and pressure, and would get a few good contractions that always made me think, “This is it.” No such luck. For an impatient control freak, this was a lesson. I was on an emotional roller coaster, up and down, up and down. Excitement, then disappointment. Incredible anticipation and elation, then restlessness.

Then there was the looming clock, the silent alarm imposed on my pregnancy by the almighty powers that be at the Birthing Center. The rule was, if you go over 40 weeks, 6 days, you automatically move to the regular Labor & Delivery floor. There are obviously many opinions on this matter, and my opinion is that this was the worst rule ever.

Many could chime in and say how ridiculous and wrong it is to have this sort of rule, and I would tend to agree with that. However, I’m sure the hospital has its reasons for instituting it, and whether I agree with it or not, I knew this going in, and I knew there would be no way around it. As a midwife whose blog I follow once said, “You buy the hospital ticket, you go for the hospital ride.” One note, since I’ve named the facility, this had absolutely nothing to do with the Birthing Center itself, nor its staff, nor the environment. It was wonderful.

My hope is that talking about this aspect of my experience will not overshadow my birth or the great facility that the SLR Birthing Center is. Risk out rules and all, they provide something that for many women like me is an opportunity to have the best of both worlds—birth without intervention with medical equipment and personnel close by.

Thankfully, the word “induction” was never even uttered by my midwives, and they had no problem with the pregnancy continuing so long as both baby and I were healthy. This time limit for the Birthing Center did, however, have a profound effect on my mental state (and that is the number one reason I oppose this rule). As the days passed and I got closer and closer to the “deadline,” I started to feel depressed. Once again, not good enough for the medical establishment. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t give birth within their parameters? Why wasn’t this baby coming already?

Then I got angry. There was nothing at all wrong with me. In fact, I decided, even if I did go into labor in time, I would show them and refuse to enter the Birthing Center! Besides, I reasoned that even if I did make it in time, the Birthing Center could be full, or closed. There was no guarantee I would make it in anyway. I would choose L&D and take control of my own destiny. No one was going to tell me where to birth, damn it.

On the morning of April 16^th, at 40 weeks, 5 days, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. with the same backache, the same sporadic contractions. Here we go, I thought. Another sleepless night.

Only this time, after I had a snack and laid down on the couch around an hour later, I felt what I knew was a very real contraction.  About 15 minutes later I felt another, and then another 13 minutes after that. I woke up my husband and we timed a few together. Around 5:30 a.m. we called the midwife, and she called back with good news: the Birthing Center was open and awaiting our arrival. And of course, that’s exactly where we went.

Though I obviously was there for my births, they were all surreal, each for different reasons. With my son I was on various drugs and barely aware of what was happening. With my first daughter I had back labor and felt like I had one 45 minute continuous contraction. This time it seemed that I was actually going to get what I had hoped for, in the place I had wanted to be in for so long. I slowly got dressed, still in disbelief that it was happening. My husband picked up my mom and she stayed with our older kids. I woke my son and told him we were going to the hospital and gave my daughter a kiss as she slept.

In the car, I breathed through each contraction and chatted happily with my husband in between. Contractions were every seven minutes now. The last time we were in the car together and I was in labor, I was screaming at the top of my lungs and my husband was driving on sidewalks and running red lights.

We got to the hospital, parked the car, and up in the elevator we went. I couldn’t help but feel as if this was my first time—and in many ways it was. It was the first time I deliberately walked of my own accord into the place where I was to give birth. It was the first time I felt conscious, sane, and aware of what was happening. It was the first time that I was excited and full of anticipation, and I knew what the general progression of things was going to be.

We got to the labor floor and there was the sign, with an arrow: “Birthing Center.” Just seeing it now in my head brings tears to my eyes. We were here, we were going in, and I was going to have my baby in my arms soon. I don’t think I can adequately describe the sweet feeling of “knowing” that comes only from having this experience more than once.

We got in our room, I changed into my birthing gown (whereupon my midwife told me I looked like a goddess—bless her! I truly felt like one.), and sat for the blood test and fetal monitoring. Twenty minutes flew by, and I got on the birthing ball for a while. While I was on the ball, a woman I can describe only as the Best Nurse in Creation came in and after a pleasant chat suggested I get up and walk (contractions had spaced out just a bit). My husband and I went out to the blissfully quiet and private hall and walked. My midwives changed shifts but both ended up staying around, chatting with me about my birthing gown between contractions.

Best Nurse in Creation filled the jacuzzi tub, and then began the most awesome part of my labor. If you are reading this and considering laboring in water, consider no longer. It. Is. The. Best. I would do it a thousand times over. I labored in that tub, with my husband at my side, with the jets providing the utmost support and relief, for two hours. I don’t know how the nurse and midwife knew it was what we wanted because we never specified it, but they gave us privacy to labor, only coming in to intermittedly check the baby’s heartbeat and to see how we were doing.

I ate and drank to my heart’s content. I continued to be happy, relaxed, and in a positive state of mind, bowing my head and giving in to the flow of each contraction, making the sounds my body led me to make and visualizing opening and having my baby in my arms (though every time I did the latter I started to cry, interrupting my zen state). Contractions are likened to waves, and rightly so. Each one would start off low, then heighten and reach a crescendo before retreating and leaving me in an almost meditative state.

Once my “birthing sounds,” as they called them, started to get intense, my midwife came in and said we should probably check and see what’s happening, and then I’d either walk around or get back in the tub. Getting up and out of the water was like being pulled from a dream. But I was already nine centimeters dilated, and after two more hard contractions on the bed, I was ready to push my baby out. I remembered the sensations of the baby moving down from the birth of my first daughter, and I knew she would be here soon.

I pushed four times for only eight minutes—but it felt like an eternity! My husband said my face turned purple and broken capillaries would later confirm his observation. The physical sensations were at their most intense at this point and I was reacting to them. My midwife kept telling me to stop clenching my legs because I was holding the baby in and I said, “I can’t!” That’s when Best Nurse in Creation said, “Yes you can! Do it now!” And I did.

And then there was my baby, slimy and gooey like the others, looking exactly like her brother did seven years before. And I cried harder than I ever had at seeing my squirmy little one, another soul to love, another life to cherish. She was so beautiful and small and quite simply a miracle.

I’m still somewhat in disbelief that it happened this way. I’m indescribably grateful and I feel so lucky. Not that my body did what it was designed to do, mind you—I’m thankful to have had a healthy pregnancy that resulted in a healthy baby, and getting the birth I hoped for is the icing on the cake. After my first high-intervention birth, I felt like I had gotten robbed of the most amazing and miraculous human experience. And after having two intervention and drug free births, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I wish more women would look upon labor and birth as a gift rather than as a cross we have to bear. As difficult as it can get, as intense as the physical sensations can be, for me it has been an immense privilege—to be able to communicate with my baby before she ever made a sound outside my womb.

Will we have another child? People are already asking. As we were getting ready to leave the hospital I was sad because I didn’t want to leave my birth behind. I knew I wanted to write about it as soon as possible, to be able to process it and remember the details. I almost want to have another baby so that I could get to relish just one more birth.

Time will tell. But if we start on this journey again, it will be a blessing and an honor once more. In the meantime, I look at my new little love and I thank her for giving me a sense of completeness that I never knew was possible.