I tell you, it really throws the medical community when they have to deal with someone who's had an out-of-hospital birth. I find it mostly funny, mildly annoying, and hope that it's a little educational for those we deal with. The woman who set up Kiera's account and made our appointment could not understand what I was telling her, and kept looking for Kiera in their system-until I finally told her to stop looking, we didn't take her to the hospital at ALL, not even "to be checked out afterwards" (her words). When we left today, the doc gave us copies of all their notes (which I thought was cool), and whoever generated it wrote "born before admission to hospital." I find that hilarious. Can't possibly have birthed at home on purpose. The doctor thought it was totally cool, even commenting that "less is often more" and that much of the time, that's the way to go. I thought that was pretty neat-o. I'd been nervous about meeting with an MD, as they are often anti-homebirth and chunk you into the "whacko weirdo psycho mom" category and that can be unpleasant to deal with.
Anyway, the appt went well, with Kiera receiving an A+ for being perfectly healthy. She weighed a whopping 7 lbs 1 oz, which-while still teensy-is up considerably from her birth weight and that's great. I'd be shocked if she wasn't gaining weight, since the child uses everything as an excuse to nurse--which unfortunately led to sudden engorgement for me, which caused several milk ducts on my left side to clog, which quickly turned into mastitis (a breast infection), which resulted in a very lousy Thursday as I felt like I had the flu and that's just, well, lousy. So I bit the bullet, called the midwives, and requested antibiotics. There are other more natural remedies I could have (and would have, in other circumstances) tried, but it came on so fast I couldn't risk it getting worse. As much as I cleave to natural medicine, I haven't treated mastitis before and couldn't guarantee that what I tried would work as quickly as a prescription would-but be assured that I will know exactly what to do should this happen again. I'm already taking a homeopathic remedy that loosens clogs so baby can suck them out more easily, which thankfully helped to free up the last stubborn linger-er that was still causing me pain yesterday. So now I feel infection and clog-free, and am making poor Kiera nurse in all kinds of crazy positions to make sure I stay that way.
And while life with a newborn is never "easy" I do feel like we're settling into a groove, Kiera is finding a rhythm to her days, and it is thus far pretty easy, relatively speaking. If only we could figure out how to keep her from getting the hiccups (she sounds like a squeaky chew toy), life would be a breeze. Oh, and if we could talk her into soiling less diapers-she goes through more than the other two combined. I think Troy's already washed them 5 times (I'm not doing laundry yet :) ). And if she'd stop pooping in her carseat, that'd be great too. Seriously, she's only been in the thing like 4 times, and has pooped in it 3 of those times. Thoroughly.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Week One-where did it go?
Kiera and Morgan, Day 2
Just a quick update. We're doing great as of today. The first few days were hard in that I was very tired and soar, moreso than when the others were born, but with Troy and both my parents here I didn't have to do anything, so that was awesome. By day 5 I was feeling MUCH more normal and mobile. Kiera is wonderful, so sweet and tiny, and aside from deciding last night that she needs to eat CONSTANTLY she's very cooperative and easy to manage. She has a lusty voice when she's uncomfortable, but other than that she's very peaceful. The older two are loving her like crazy, always wanting to hold her and give her her binky. They've each had their meltdown moments in response to the high energy levels and such, but as everything has evened out, so have they. We're enjoying the second week of Troy's time off, and will hopefully be able to spend the next few days having picnics and just being a family (though I expect Troy to get a bit antsy about wanting to work on "projects"-though so far he hasn't been too bad ;) ). This afternoon we will be getting Kiera's first pictures taken, which is always fun. Especially since we need to do the other two, also.
Just being sweet.
In her hat Christie made, Day 4
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
And the waiting is over!
Kiera Inolani Fox was born Monday at 6:34 PM. Yes, she's a girl! She weighs 6 lbs, 10 oz and is 21"long with a spattering of super-soft blonde hair. Everything went fantastically well, and she was greeted by a room full of loved ones as everyone I'd hoped to have there was in attendance-even my sister, via speakerphone from CA. I'll post her full birth story with more pictures in a few days (and actually, I thought I'd posted this on Tuesday, but blogger was apparently acting up). In the interim, there is an album of photos on Facebook (in mine or Troy's profiles)-if you'd like the link, email me and I'll send it. I'll put a few up here as well when I get the chance-we're all doing great and recuperating from the big event well, but are taking things nice and slow for the time being.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Kiera's Coming
(please keep on mind this is being written 15-18 months later)
I woke up to a sunny, warm June Morning. Having spent the weekend trying NOT to go into labor (due to the one midwife I didn't want in attendance being on-call), I was thrilled to still be pregnant. At 10 AM the midwives would switch, and my beloved Val, the same midwife present for the arrival of Morgan, would be my gal. As Troy got up and began to ready himself for work, I got anxious--I didn't want him to go. Just didn't. I wasn't having contractions or any other labor signs, I just DIDN'T want him to leave me. I even asked if he could call in, which he said seemed silly, as he would loose a day of paternity leave. Plus he was really looking forward to getting that phone call ("It's TIME!") and having the TV sitcom scene of grabbing his coat and briefcase, bellowing to his team that he's having a baby, and dashing out of the branch. He is SUCH a drama queen.
I couldn't rest anymore, and thought about getting out of bed. Minutes, and I mean minutes, after Troy drove away, I began having contractions. I wasn't ready to call it labor, but did let Troy and my parents (who were staying with us) know. We had a midwife appointment at 11:30, so we set about getting ready for that. The contractions continued sporadically until we were on the road headed to the birth center. Figures.
My appt was with Ali, who is one of the gentlest creatures you will ever meet. Everyone who meets her wants to give birth with her, whether they are pregnant or not. She is also wise and very down-to-earth--when I had asked her to check my cervix the week before (not a routine practice with midwives as it isn't a good indicator of when labor will start and is, as they say, "quite rude"), she had agreed but on the condition that "if I find you're 4 or 5 cm, you have to swear you won't walk around for the next week all freaked out that you're about to drop the baby on the floor." I agreed, and she found me to be 3 ("though I could stretch you to 5 if you wanted, you're so stretchy"--I did not want, as my dad had yet to arrive).
Ali was running a bit behind, so the student midwife, Tanya, started the appt. We chatted about how close I was, how I was feeling, and about her upcoming trip to San Diego (when she learned my parents were from CA). The kids were behind me playing on the bed (they hold their appointments in the birth suites, which are like jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt) with toys they'd drug in from the family room.
My midwives of course know I am a doula, and tend to treat me more as a colleague than a client-so Ali sashayed in, gave a big sigh, and vented a little about how busy that day was for them. She then said, "I can NOT believe Val told you to just wait to have the baby." (This was in regards to my calling Val Saturday night (she had given me her personal number for this reason) to see if she was available as I felt like I was going into labor then and didn't want the on-call midwife. She had informed me that she'd just had a couple of drinks and was about to join her husband in the bedroom-and that if she didn't, it would be very bad for her marriage, so could I please ask the baby to wait? So I drank 2 ounces of wine every four hours, which is a totally safe method of halting early labor contractions, and did my best to comply.)
We discussed my morning contractions, and whether I would like to have my baby today. Ali said she would rather I didn't, as she needed Val to help her with clinic appointments, but after seeing that my blood pressure was elevated again we decided she should check me and do some cervical stimulation to get things going again. She started her exam (this woman is so gentle, her cervical exams are COMFORTABLE), and announced, "OK, you're 4...and now you're 5." She did a little more messing around to help release some more hormones and stimulate contractions. When she was done she looked me in the eye and said, "and now you're going home--you're not making any stops, and you're going to lie down for an hour so your blood pressure doesn't get any higher. Right?" This was followed by another plea to hold out long enough that she wouldn't loose Val. She said she'd be surprised if I didn't have my baby that day, but that made her sad because she wouldn't get to be at my birth. I told her she was more than welcome to join the party, but she had a faculty meeting at the midwifery school that she couldn't get out of because her partner would be at a birth. Ali's funny.
We packed up to head home, and once again I pleaded with Troy to come with us. At this point I wasn't having labor contractions, but I could feel them coming. Like a storm brewing over the ocean. He insisted on going to work (again with the whole drama thing) and swore he would leave as soon as I needed him. We headed home. My contractions started the minute we hit the freeway. It was just about 12:30.
The contractions were mild at first, and not very long, about 5 minutes apart. I spent the ride home (mom was driving) making phone calls-to Troy, telling him he shouldn't have gone back to work (he STILL didn't leave right away), to Erin (my best friend who has video taped all our births), to Katie (other best friend who was at Morgan's birth and would be helping with the kids), and of course to my doula. And get THIS-after all I'd gone through holding off labor, first waiting for dad, then for Val, my doula had already been called by another client whose water had broken that morning. It became a race to see who would need her first, and who would get her backup (which would have been ok, as I had picked the doula who would come in that event, and loved her too-but I really wanted MY doula, damn it!).
We arrived home around 1 pm, and my parents set about making lunch. My mom also got out the chicken soup I had made in advance and frozen (my "birth soup"-that's funny 'cause it's what Val calls the water in the tub after baby is born) and put it in the crockpot so we'd all have something warm and nutritious later on. I laid down on the couch. For about a minute.
I spent the next hour playing whack-a-mole with myself. I would try to lay down, have another contraction, and bounce back up-remembering some other little thing I wanted done before everyone arrived. I kept texting Troy, hating--HATING that he wasn't with me and complaining quite vocally about how it just didn't feel right (I'd never been in labor without him). Around 2 PM I called my doula again, and Hooray! I won the race! I felt a little bad for the other woman, but my doula assured me that she had not been phased at all, and was happy with her backup doula. Troy arrived a few minutes later, and my very next contraction was significantly more intense. My doula arrived at 2:30, and again my contractions intensified (having my people was very important to my ability to progress). Somewhere in there Erin came in, too (I had put a sign on the door asking for no knocking "homebirth in progress" so I didn't always notice people arriving). We all decided it was time to call in the midwives (I had called at 2 to let them know I was laboring, and they were just waiting for me to say I was ready for them). During this time my contractions where intense, but not really painful--lots of tightening and pressure pulling my belly down, some discomfort but I was so excited to BE in LABOR, it all just felt good. I'm serious. I knew what I was doing, how to respond to my body, how to move, I always had someone close to hug or hang onto, it all just felt beautiful. The kids were watching the Little Mermaid and playing with Erin and Katie, who was there now as well (until Mom put Morgan down for a nap). I was having some back pain, so my doula heated up her flax sock and secured it to my low back with her rebozo (a long, wide scarf). She and Troy made up the bed with the shower curtain under old sheets, and I sat in our dressing room where the tub was filling, rocking in my chair, sipping the iced red raspberry leaf tea (uterine tonic) my doula made sure was always nearby and listening to Jewel on my Ipod. It all just seemed so normal, but at the same time so extraordinary.
Val arrived a little after 3 PM with Tanya and another student midwife. Rather than the tensing and anxiousness that often accompanies the entrance of the care provider at a birth, there was an all-around sense of excitement and happiness, and I was finally able to fully relax. It was time. They were all here. I was having this baby, in my home, under my own power, exactly the way we had planned.
Troy and I headed into the bedroom with Val to check up on my cervix. She announced I was 6 cm, and said she could break my water if I wanted. I didn't want. I am, generally, pretty anti-breaking water. Sometimes it's very effective at speeding things up, but really, do they need to be sped? We discussed whether I wanted the antibiotics for my Group B strep (I had tested positive as 1 in 3 women do, and standard protocol calls for antibiotics every 4 hrs during labor to protect the baby from infection--though the risk of infection is so small (nearly non-existant with an intact amniotic sac), and the risk of complication even smaller, and the evidence that the antibiotics are helpful isn't very convincing to me), and I decided that since I wasn't progressing as rapidly as we'd thought I might, we'd try one dose. This requires a "butterfly," a needle attached to a tube running to an IV bag, held in place by sticky wings, be inserted into a vein and a small bag of fluid with the meds in it squeezed in. Takes about 10 minutes. Thing is, it only works if the liquid goes into your vein. For whatever reason, that would NOT happen. The students tried twice, and Val gave it one last go-at which time I told her if it didn't work, that was that-and she agreed. They could get the needle in just fine, but when they'd begin to push the fluid, it would just come out. Right out the little hole in my skin. If they pushed harder it would push the needle out, too. So weird. Val finally said, "It's obvious your body doesn't want this, and who am I to argue with that?" No antibitiocs. I LOVE out of hospital birth.
Somewhere in this time period, Troy helped me climb the stairs with big lunging steps to try and get baby better seated in my cervix and thus bring on stronger contractions. While labor was progressing, I knew that my contractions weren't long enough (about 30-45 seconds) to actually get the baby out, even if I were ready to push. I went to the bathroom to sit on the toilet for awhile, as this is a great position for labor-whilst there, I checked my own cervix-I couldn't tell dilation, but I could feel the sac and I messed around for a bit to see if I could break my water myself. I was beginning to get a little frustrated with my lack of progress, and was conflicted about the whole "water breaking" thing-I knew it would help, but I really wanted to just be patient and let things happen. Moot point anyway, because I couldn't break it.
Back in the living room, Garrett was harassing all the grown-ups into playing video games and those not engaged with him were socializing. Troy and I took our leave at around 4:30 and went into the bedroom to lay down together for awhile. That was so nice-so peaceful and comforting, so safe, snuggled together in our own comfy bed, talking softly and giggling. Unfortunately I had to pee again.
I tried tearing my sac again while on the toilet, but apparently I have very tough membranes (this would be proven later). We wandered back into the living room, and I told Val I thought I wanted to be checked again, and maybe have her break my water. She sent Tanya into the bedroom to set up the birth stool with a basin under it to catch the fluid, should I decide to go ahead. I sat on the edge of the sofa for awhile, with Troy on one side and my doula on the other. Up until this point during contractions I wanted to be leaning forward-either hold onto a person's shoulders or the wall-but now I wanted to sit right on the edge of the couch, where I could feel the front edge against my pelvic floor and rock back and forth over it. I asked mom to wake up Morgan (it was now about 5:30). She stumbled out, quite groggy, and came to hug me-until she saw that Grandpa was finishing up filling the birth tub (he and Grandma actually boiled big pots of water to help warm it up). She squealed, "I'm going to get my babing-suit!" and took off. During this time Garrett would come and give me hugs, and when she came back (indeed in her babing-suit), she hugged me through contractions. It was very sweet. Contractions grew more intense, and I began to moan through them-I thought to myself that I should be sitting on a chux pad in case my water broke, and looked up to see Val standing in front of me, holding one. "You read my mind!" "No, I read your contraction."
After a bit I stood up to make my way into the bedroom for the checking. It took me awhile, as it always does in labor-it's hard to make good time walking when you have to stop every few minutes to sway and breathe heavy. In the midst of one of these walking breaks (one of my favorite memories, as I was leaning on my mom with Val on one side and my doula on the other, rubbing my back), my dad began telling someone how odd the animals had been acting all day-that Dervish, our cat, would jump up in his lap right next to Sk8ter, their dog, and not care he was there. Troy, without missing a beat, comes out with, "Dogs and cats, living together, MASS HYSTERIA!" (a cookie to you if you get it). OH MY GOD. I laughed so hard, I almost fell down. Totally cut my contraction in half. Everyone was hysterical, made even more so when they noticed that my bare belly was shaking like a bowl-full-o-jelly through my laughter. Between chortles Val announced, "Well if that doesn't break your water, nothing will!" This sudden joviality derailed my trek to the bedroom however, as I suddenly REALLY needed the bathroom again. This really got them chuckling in the living room-they'd here me giggling, then quiet through a contraction, then immediately giggling again. I couldn't stop. Labor does that to you-the hormones make you fell things more intensely, and at that moment, I was feelin' silly. I could not stop. I giggled all the way down the hallway, giggled into the bedroom. I giggled as I sat on the stool (a birth stool is like a toilet seat on legs). I REALLY giggled when I looked over to see my doula crawling towards me (there wasn't a lot of room to move), slowly, with the breeze from the fan blowing her hair just so...rraaaaowwwlll (that's a sassy jungle cat sound). Val checked me, and said I was still 6-and that my cervix was sitting wonky on the baby's head, on the back instead of the top. She said if I wanted, she could hang out there through a contraction and help move it forward. I said go for it, and giggled some more. I thought that must feel awfully strange to Val, she said she was just trying not to poke me. I had a contraction-holy CRAP did I have a contraction. I did NOT giggle. Suddenly there was what I'd been waiting for-long, strong, and waaaaay productive-at the end of that single contraction, with a little help from Val, I was 9 cm and ready for the tub--no water breaking necessary.
I shucked my shorts (left on a bikini top, if you're wondering), and made my way to the tub, As I eased into the water, my people began to settle in around me. The room was awesome-Troy and I have two small bedrooms that are joined by french doors, one room housing our bed, the other our dressers and rocking chair (this would also house the baby's cradle in coming months). We call it our "dressing room", and that's where the tub was set up. There was just enough room for everyone to find a place around the tub, and for the kids to be able to move from one spot to another. They were beyond excited, but really contained themselves rather well (with the help of the student midwife teaching them how to play I Spy). There was much concern about the temperature of the water, which to me felt perfect. I sat on my heels in the middle of my inflatable birth pool and absorbed the moment. Birth is a fantastic unifier-rarely will you see a group of people exist together so fluidly, so seamlessly, as if they had been together always and would be evermore. They drew in around me like a hug, settling onto pillows, ottomans, birth balls, laps, with smiles and soothing words. Such peace, such joy. Morgan clambered over the side of the pool and sat with me a little while-a very little while, as her excitement nearly made our tub runneth over (inflatable pools wiggle) and unfortunately I could not handle her movement mid-contraction. So out she went, into a waiting towel. That became my only rule-nobody touch the pool while I contract.
Between contractions we chatted, laughed, I swirled around in the water playing with different positions. Val asked how much help I wanted catching the baby, and we agreed I would do as much as I could. My doula and Katie snapped pictures as we all waited for what we were sure would be iminent pushing. Really, I expected to start pushing-gently, slowly-as soon as I got in the water. But birth doesn't like to be predicted, and decided to make us wait a little bit. Build anticipation. While sitting on my heels again, I thought a felt a small gush-maybe my water had finally broken. I reported this to the midwives. Val took note, and reminded me that the next contraction would likely feel different and to put my mind and body were they needed to be for that. Whether my water actually broke or I am just so autosuggestive that her words were all I needed I don't know-but indeed my next contraction felt different, and I began to bear down. Not much, just enough to test the waters and let my body know it was time to open. I waited for the next urge, excitement building as I remembered the satisfaction of Morgan's slow, controlled delivery-how I moved her with purpose, my body and I working together to deliver her without damage or urgency. I waited for that urge, and with the next contraction, didn't feel it. Ok. That's fine. It will come. Val asked if I felt pinchy in the front, and I said no-not remembering that she asked for a reason. With the next contraction I felt the urge again, and pushed-but felt like the baby wasn't moving. Odd. Morgan had moved so well. I tried again, and still nothing. They say the third baby's a wild card. I tried again. The best way I can describe it was like pushing against a trampoline-the baby would move down, and then almost bounce back up. Every time I pushed Morgan would announce, "I see the baby!" and my mother would turn to the phone on the dresser (my sister was listening in from California) and whisper "no she doesn't." Ah-there's the pinching Val was asking about. Val asked my permission to check and see if I had an anterior cervical lip (when a small portion of the cervix doesn't soften and can't move easily past the baby's head). Ah, crap. There it is. Would I like her to "reduce" it (meaning manually push it back)-well, my sister had a lip that went unnoticed, and pushed against it for nearly 3 hours before it was reduced. I chose NOT to do that. Val talked gently to me about remaining relaxed through the next contraction when she will worked her magic-and apologized profusely for the side effects. Here it comes--HOLY SH*$#(%()@$*)^@)$*)TTTTTT!!!!! "Mommy you're hurting my ears!" "She's compete now" and WHOMP somebody dropped a BOWLING BALL on my perineum. Wild, uncontrollable pushing, and her head was fully crowning- "You don't have to do it all at once sweetie, you don't have to do it all at once, take a breath, that's right." In that one second I moved from casual conversation to complete encampment in labor land-my head lolled on the tub, I moaned, I felt Troy's hands on my hair and Mom's hands on my shoulder. I heard Morgan's chatter but not the words, and responded to none of it. And then it was building again, the raging storm, the pressure, the power-and I was wild. A little part of me knew I could slow down, it would be better-but the rest of me was unable. In one massive move her head was delivered. Sweet relief. The bowling ball was out. A little of my mind came back, and I looked at my baby's head in the water. "Where's your hair??" Val-"It's under the sac, look, she's in the caul." (Here's where the tough membranes come in-if my water broke, it was a little hole. Kiera was born in the sac (well, her head was). This may sound odd, but is has long been thought to be a good omen and to us alternative birthers, it's pretty awesome. )
Val did her preliminary exam of the baby's delivery status while we waited for the final contraction, and found her to have the cord around her neck. I was not surprised, as she was such a tosser in utero there was no way she wouldn't be tangled in the cord. This required Val to tear the sac so that she could attemt to slide the cord over her head, or loosen it enough that the baby could be born through it. She couldn't get much slack, and we had a few seconds of tension deciding whether to cut the cord now or not-and then there was no time- final surge, the final heave, and my baby was born at 6:36 PM, exactly 6 hours after the onset of labor. She moved gracefully through the water as Val slowly pulled her up (her delivery was so intense I had both hands braced against the floor of the tub to lift myself off my bottom, and sadly was unable to catch her myself). The little booger had the cord around her neck not once but twice, as well as around her belly and around one thigh. So instead of handing her straight to me, Val took about 5 seconds to unwind her-during which time Troy and I got our first glimpse of the goods and were overjoyed to be the first to discover we'd had a daughter. Val finally freed her and placed her in my hands. I drew her tiny body to my chest, kissed her, peeked between her legs to verify, and announced to the assemblege "we have a baby girl."
Now I am a big ole' crier. I cry over everything. Join me in Disneyland and you'd better bring a box of tissues. Weepy Mc-weeperson. But I had never cried after giving birth. It surprised me, and dissappointed me-was I really not as moved by my child's emergence into the world as I was by Mickey Mouse? Who knew. But when I made that announcement, and I looked back at my tiny daughter-held her hand-something beyond tremendous washed over me. I sobbed. Really sobbed. Huge, wracking, TV drama sobs. I would get myself collected, and then it would hit me again. This was it. Everything I'd ever wanted. Garrett beside me, asking if she had bones. Morgan in my mother's lap, begging to hold her before she was even out of the water. My father, who'd been unable to attend my other two births crying softly with my sister (who was still on speakerphone). Troy smiling so hard I could feel it, even though he was behind me. And Kiera so calm, so peaceful they had to suction her to get her to cry. She just looked at me, at her family-when Garrett spoke to her she turned to him in recognition. When he asked if he could touch her, so cautious, I cried again. Morgan ran out of the room to get clothes for her new sister and came back in with everything she could carry. Hands down, no contest, the most fun, exciting, fulfilling, empowering, loving, enormous and extraordinary day I could ever hope to experience. The day my family was born.
Kinda makes you want to have a baby, doesn't it?
I woke up to a sunny, warm June Morning. Having spent the weekend trying NOT to go into labor (due to the one midwife I didn't want in attendance being on-call), I was thrilled to still be pregnant. At 10 AM the midwives would switch, and my beloved Val, the same midwife present for the arrival of Morgan, would be my gal. As Troy got up and began to ready himself for work, I got anxious--I didn't want him to go. Just didn't. I wasn't having contractions or any other labor signs, I just DIDN'T want him to leave me. I even asked if he could call in, which he said seemed silly, as he would loose a day of paternity leave. Plus he was really looking forward to getting that phone call ("It's TIME!") and having the TV sitcom scene of grabbing his coat and briefcase, bellowing to his team that he's having a baby, and dashing out of the branch. He is SUCH a drama queen.
I couldn't rest anymore, and thought about getting out of bed. Minutes, and I mean minutes, after Troy drove away, I began having contractions. I wasn't ready to call it labor, but did let Troy and my parents (who were staying with us) know. We had a midwife appointment at 11:30, so we set about getting ready for that. The contractions continued sporadically until we were on the road headed to the birth center. Figures.
My appt was with Ali, who is one of the gentlest creatures you will ever meet. Everyone who meets her wants to give birth with her, whether they are pregnant or not. She is also wise and very down-to-earth--when I had asked her to check my cervix the week before (not a routine practice with midwives as it isn't a good indicator of when labor will start and is, as they say, "quite rude"), she had agreed but on the condition that "if I find you're 4 or 5 cm, you have to swear you won't walk around for the next week all freaked out that you're about to drop the baby on the floor." I agreed, and she found me to be 3 ("though I could stretch you to 5 if you wanted, you're so stretchy"--I did not want, as my dad had yet to arrive).
Ali was running a bit behind, so the student midwife, Tanya, started the appt. We chatted about how close I was, how I was feeling, and about her upcoming trip to San Diego (when she learned my parents were from CA). The kids were behind me playing on the bed (they hold their appointments in the birth suites, which are like jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt) with toys they'd drug in from the family room.
My midwives of course know I am a doula, and tend to treat me more as a colleague than a client-so Ali sashayed in, gave a big sigh, and vented a little about how busy that day was for them. She then said, "I can NOT believe Val told you to just wait to have the baby." (This was in regards to my calling Val Saturday night (she had given me her personal number for this reason) to see if she was available as I felt like I was going into labor then and didn't want the on-call midwife. She had informed me that she'd just had a couple of drinks and was about to join her husband in the bedroom-and that if she didn't, it would be very bad for her marriage, so could I please ask the baby to wait? So I drank 2 ounces of wine every four hours, which is a totally safe method of halting early labor contractions, and did my best to comply.)
We discussed my morning contractions, and whether I would like to have my baby today. Ali said she would rather I didn't, as she needed Val to help her with clinic appointments, but after seeing that my blood pressure was elevated again we decided she should check me and do some cervical stimulation to get things going again. She started her exam (this woman is so gentle, her cervical exams are COMFORTABLE), and announced, "OK, you're 4...and now you're 5." She did a little more messing around to help release some more hormones and stimulate contractions. When she was done she looked me in the eye and said, "and now you're going home--you're not making any stops, and you're going to lie down for an hour so your blood pressure doesn't get any higher. Right?" This was followed by another plea to hold out long enough that she wouldn't loose Val. She said she'd be surprised if I didn't have my baby that day, but that made her sad because she wouldn't get to be at my birth. I told her she was more than welcome to join the party, but she had a faculty meeting at the midwifery school that she couldn't get out of because her partner would be at a birth. Ali's funny.
We packed up to head home, and once again I pleaded with Troy to come with us. At this point I wasn't having labor contractions, but I could feel them coming. Like a storm brewing over the ocean. He insisted on going to work (again with the whole drama thing) and swore he would leave as soon as I needed him. We headed home. My contractions started the minute we hit the freeway. It was just about 12:30.
The contractions were mild at first, and not very long, about 5 minutes apart. I spent the ride home (mom was driving) making phone calls-to Troy, telling him he shouldn't have gone back to work (he STILL didn't leave right away), to Erin (my best friend who has video taped all our births), to Katie (other best friend who was at Morgan's birth and would be helping with the kids), and of course to my doula. And get THIS-after all I'd gone through holding off labor, first waiting for dad, then for Val, my doula had already been called by another client whose water had broken that morning. It became a race to see who would need her first, and who would get her backup (which would have been ok, as I had picked the doula who would come in that event, and loved her too-but I really wanted MY doula, damn it!).
We arrived home around 1 pm, and my parents set about making lunch. My mom also got out the chicken soup I had made in advance and frozen (my "birth soup"-that's funny 'cause it's what Val calls the water in the tub after baby is born) and put it in the crockpot so we'd all have something warm and nutritious later on. I laid down on the couch. For about a minute.
I spent the next hour playing whack-a-mole with myself. I would try to lay down, have another contraction, and bounce back up-remembering some other little thing I wanted done before everyone arrived. I kept texting Troy, hating--HATING that he wasn't with me and complaining quite vocally about how it just didn't feel right (I'd never been in labor without him). Around 2 PM I called my doula again, and Hooray! I won the race! I felt a little bad for the other woman, but my doula assured me that she had not been phased at all, and was happy with her backup doula. Troy arrived a few minutes later, and my very next contraction was significantly more intense. My doula arrived at 2:30, and again my contractions intensified (having my people was very important to my ability to progress). Somewhere in there Erin came in, too (I had put a sign on the door asking for no knocking "homebirth in progress" so I didn't always notice people arriving). We all decided it was time to call in the midwives (I had called at 2 to let them know I was laboring, and they were just waiting for me to say I was ready for them). During this time my contractions where intense, but not really painful--lots of tightening and pressure pulling my belly down, some discomfort but I was so excited to BE in LABOR, it all just felt good. I'm serious. I knew what I was doing, how to respond to my body, how to move, I always had someone close to hug or hang onto, it all just felt beautiful. The kids were watching the Little Mermaid and playing with Erin and Katie, who was there now as well (until Mom put Morgan down for a nap). I was having some back pain, so my doula heated up her flax sock and secured it to my low back with her rebozo (a long, wide scarf). She and Troy made up the bed with the shower curtain under old sheets, and I sat in our dressing room where the tub was filling, rocking in my chair, sipping the iced red raspberry leaf tea (uterine tonic) my doula made sure was always nearby and listening to Jewel on my Ipod. It all just seemed so normal, but at the same time so extraordinary.
Val arrived a little after 3 PM with Tanya and another student midwife. Rather than the tensing and anxiousness that often accompanies the entrance of the care provider at a birth, there was an all-around sense of excitement and happiness, and I was finally able to fully relax. It was time. They were all here. I was having this baby, in my home, under my own power, exactly the way we had planned.
Troy and I headed into the bedroom with Val to check up on my cervix. She announced I was 6 cm, and said she could break my water if I wanted. I didn't want. I am, generally, pretty anti-breaking water. Sometimes it's very effective at speeding things up, but really, do they need to be sped? We discussed whether I wanted the antibiotics for my Group B strep (I had tested positive as 1 in 3 women do, and standard protocol calls for antibiotics every 4 hrs during labor to protect the baby from infection--though the risk of infection is so small (nearly non-existant with an intact amniotic sac), and the risk of complication even smaller, and the evidence that the antibiotics are helpful isn't very convincing to me), and I decided that since I wasn't progressing as rapidly as we'd thought I might, we'd try one dose. This requires a "butterfly," a needle attached to a tube running to an IV bag, held in place by sticky wings, be inserted into a vein and a small bag of fluid with the meds in it squeezed in. Takes about 10 minutes. Thing is, it only works if the liquid goes into your vein. For whatever reason, that would NOT happen. The students tried twice, and Val gave it one last go-at which time I told her if it didn't work, that was that-and she agreed. They could get the needle in just fine, but when they'd begin to push the fluid, it would just come out. Right out the little hole in my skin. If they pushed harder it would push the needle out, too. So weird. Val finally said, "It's obvious your body doesn't want this, and who am I to argue with that?" No antibitiocs. I LOVE out of hospital birth.
Somewhere in this time period, Troy helped me climb the stairs with big lunging steps to try and get baby better seated in my cervix and thus bring on stronger contractions. While labor was progressing, I knew that my contractions weren't long enough (about 30-45 seconds) to actually get the baby out, even if I were ready to push. I went to the bathroom to sit on the toilet for awhile, as this is a great position for labor-whilst there, I checked my own cervix-I couldn't tell dilation, but I could feel the sac and I messed around for a bit to see if I could break my water myself. I was beginning to get a little frustrated with my lack of progress, and was conflicted about the whole "water breaking" thing-I knew it would help, but I really wanted to just be patient and let things happen. Moot point anyway, because I couldn't break it.
Back in the living room, Garrett was harassing all the grown-ups into playing video games and those not engaged with him were socializing. Troy and I took our leave at around 4:30 and went into the bedroom to lay down together for awhile. That was so nice-so peaceful and comforting, so safe, snuggled together in our own comfy bed, talking softly and giggling. Unfortunately I had to pee again.
I tried tearing my sac again while on the toilet, but apparently I have very tough membranes (this would be proven later). We wandered back into the living room, and I told Val I thought I wanted to be checked again, and maybe have her break my water. She sent Tanya into the bedroom to set up the birth stool with a basin under it to catch the fluid, should I decide to go ahead. I sat on the edge of the sofa for awhile, with Troy on one side and my doula on the other. Up until this point during contractions I wanted to be leaning forward-either hold onto a person's shoulders or the wall-but now I wanted to sit right on the edge of the couch, where I could feel the front edge against my pelvic floor and rock back and forth over it. I asked mom to wake up Morgan (it was now about 5:30). She stumbled out, quite groggy, and came to hug me-until she saw that Grandpa was finishing up filling the birth tub (he and Grandma actually boiled big pots of water to help warm it up). She squealed, "I'm going to get my babing-suit!" and took off. During this time Garrett would come and give me hugs, and when she came back (indeed in her babing-suit), she hugged me through contractions. It was very sweet. Contractions grew more intense, and I began to moan through them-I thought to myself that I should be sitting on a chux pad in case my water broke, and looked up to see Val standing in front of me, holding one. "You read my mind!" "No, I read your contraction."
After a bit I stood up to make my way into the bedroom for the checking. It took me awhile, as it always does in labor-it's hard to make good time walking when you have to stop every few minutes to sway and breathe heavy. In the midst of one of these walking breaks (one of my favorite memories, as I was leaning on my mom with Val on one side and my doula on the other, rubbing my back), my dad began telling someone how odd the animals had been acting all day-that Dervish, our cat, would jump up in his lap right next to Sk8ter, their dog, and not care he was there. Troy, without missing a beat, comes out with, "Dogs and cats, living together, MASS HYSTERIA!" (a cookie to you if you get it). OH MY GOD. I laughed so hard, I almost fell down. Totally cut my contraction in half. Everyone was hysterical, made even more so when they noticed that my bare belly was shaking like a bowl-full-o-jelly through my laughter. Between chortles Val announced, "Well if that doesn't break your water, nothing will!" This sudden joviality derailed my trek to the bedroom however, as I suddenly REALLY needed the bathroom again. This really got them chuckling in the living room-they'd here me giggling, then quiet through a contraction, then immediately giggling again. I couldn't stop. Labor does that to you-the hormones make you fell things more intensely, and at that moment, I was feelin' silly. I could not stop. I giggled all the way down the hallway, giggled into the bedroom. I giggled as I sat on the stool (a birth stool is like a toilet seat on legs). I REALLY giggled when I looked over to see my doula crawling towards me (there wasn't a lot of room to move), slowly, with the breeze from the fan blowing her hair just so...rraaaaowwwlll (that's a sassy jungle cat sound). Val checked me, and said I was still 6-and that my cervix was sitting wonky on the baby's head, on the back instead of the top. She said if I wanted, she could hang out there through a contraction and help move it forward. I said go for it, and giggled some more. I thought that must feel awfully strange to Val, she said she was just trying not to poke me. I had a contraction-holy CRAP did I have a contraction. I did NOT giggle. Suddenly there was what I'd been waiting for-long, strong, and waaaaay productive-at the end of that single contraction, with a little help from Val, I was 9 cm and ready for the tub--no water breaking necessary.
I shucked my shorts (left on a bikini top, if you're wondering), and made my way to the tub, As I eased into the water, my people began to settle in around me. The room was awesome-Troy and I have two small bedrooms that are joined by french doors, one room housing our bed, the other our dressers and rocking chair (this would also house the baby's cradle in coming months). We call it our "dressing room", and that's where the tub was set up. There was just enough room for everyone to find a place around the tub, and for the kids to be able to move from one spot to another. They were beyond excited, but really contained themselves rather well (with the help of the student midwife teaching them how to play I Spy). There was much concern about the temperature of the water, which to me felt perfect. I sat on my heels in the middle of my inflatable birth pool and absorbed the moment. Birth is a fantastic unifier-rarely will you see a group of people exist together so fluidly, so seamlessly, as if they had been together always and would be evermore. They drew in around me like a hug, settling onto pillows, ottomans, birth balls, laps, with smiles and soothing words. Such peace, such joy. Morgan clambered over the side of the pool and sat with me a little while-a very little while, as her excitement nearly made our tub runneth over (inflatable pools wiggle) and unfortunately I could not handle her movement mid-contraction. So out she went, into a waiting towel. That became my only rule-nobody touch the pool while I contract.
Between contractions we chatted, laughed, I swirled around in the water playing with different positions. Val asked how much help I wanted catching the baby, and we agreed I would do as much as I could. My doula and Katie snapped pictures as we all waited for what we were sure would be iminent pushing. Really, I expected to start pushing-gently, slowly-as soon as I got in the water. But birth doesn't like to be predicted, and decided to make us wait a little bit. Build anticipation. While sitting on my heels again, I thought a felt a small gush-maybe my water had finally broken. I reported this to the midwives. Val took note, and reminded me that the next contraction would likely feel different and to put my mind and body were they needed to be for that. Whether my water actually broke or I am just so autosuggestive that her words were all I needed I don't know-but indeed my next contraction felt different, and I began to bear down. Not much, just enough to test the waters and let my body know it was time to open. I waited for the next urge, excitement building as I remembered the satisfaction of Morgan's slow, controlled delivery-how I moved her with purpose, my body and I working together to deliver her without damage or urgency. I waited for that urge, and with the next contraction, didn't feel it. Ok. That's fine. It will come. Val asked if I felt pinchy in the front, and I said no-not remembering that she asked for a reason. With the next contraction I felt the urge again, and pushed-but felt like the baby wasn't moving. Odd. Morgan had moved so well. I tried again, and still nothing. They say the third baby's a wild card. I tried again. The best way I can describe it was like pushing against a trampoline-the baby would move down, and then almost bounce back up. Every time I pushed Morgan would announce, "I see the baby!" and my mother would turn to the phone on the dresser (my sister was listening in from California) and whisper "no she doesn't." Ah-there's the pinching Val was asking about. Val asked my permission to check and see if I had an anterior cervical lip (when a small portion of the cervix doesn't soften and can't move easily past the baby's head). Ah, crap. There it is. Would I like her to "reduce" it (meaning manually push it back)-well, my sister had a lip that went unnoticed, and pushed against it for nearly 3 hours before it was reduced. I chose NOT to do that. Val talked gently to me about remaining relaxed through the next contraction when she will worked her magic-and apologized profusely for the side effects. Here it comes--HOLY SH*$#(%()@$*)^@)$*)TTTTTT!!!!! "Mommy you're hurting my ears!" "She's compete now" and WHOMP somebody dropped a BOWLING BALL on my perineum. Wild, uncontrollable pushing, and her head was fully crowning- "You don't have to do it all at once sweetie, you don't have to do it all at once, take a breath, that's right." In that one second I moved from casual conversation to complete encampment in labor land-my head lolled on the tub, I moaned, I felt Troy's hands on my hair and Mom's hands on my shoulder. I heard Morgan's chatter but not the words, and responded to none of it. And then it was building again, the raging storm, the pressure, the power-and I was wild. A little part of me knew I could slow down, it would be better-but the rest of me was unable. In one massive move her head was delivered. Sweet relief. The bowling ball was out. A little of my mind came back, and I looked at my baby's head in the water. "Where's your hair??" Val-"It's under the sac, look, she's in the caul." (Here's where the tough membranes come in-if my water broke, it was a little hole. Kiera was born in the sac (well, her head was). This may sound odd, but is has long been thought to be a good omen and to us alternative birthers, it's pretty awesome. )
Val did her preliminary exam of the baby's delivery status while we waited for the final contraction, and found her to have the cord around her neck. I was not surprised, as she was such a tosser in utero there was no way she wouldn't be tangled in the cord. This required Val to tear the sac so that she could attemt to slide the cord over her head, or loosen it enough that the baby could be born through it. She couldn't get much slack, and we had a few seconds of tension deciding whether to cut the cord now or not-and then there was no time- final surge, the final heave, and my baby was born at 6:36 PM, exactly 6 hours after the onset of labor. She moved gracefully through the water as Val slowly pulled her up (her delivery was so intense I had both hands braced against the floor of the tub to lift myself off my bottom, and sadly was unable to catch her myself). The little booger had the cord around her neck not once but twice, as well as around her belly and around one thigh. So instead of handing her straight to me, Val took about 5 seconds to unwind her-during which time Troy and I got our first glimpse of the goods and were overjoyed to be the first to discover we'd had a daughter. Val finally freed her and placed her in my hands. I drew her tiny body to my chest, kissed her, peeked between her legs to verify, and announced to the assemblege "we have a baby girl."
Now I am a big ole' crier. I cry over everything. Join me in Disneyland and you'd better bring a box of tissues. Weepy Mc-weeperson. But I had never cried after giving birth. It surprised me, and dissappointed me-was I really not as moved by my child's emergence into the world as I was by Mickey Mouse? Who knew. But when I made that announcement, and I looked back at my tiny daughter-held her hand-something beyond tremendous washed over me. I sobbed. Really sobbed. Huge, wracking, TV drama sobs. I would get myself collected, and then it would hit me again. This was it. Everything I'd ever wanted. Garrett beside me, asking if she had bones. Morgan in my mother's lap, begging to hold her before she was even out of the water. My father, who'd been unable to attend my other two births crying softly with my sister (who was still on speakerphone). Troy smiling so hard I could feel it, even though he was behind me. And Kiera so calm, so peaceful they had to suction her to get her to cry. She just looked at me, at her family-when Garrett spoke to her she turned to him in recognition. When he asked if he could touch her, so cautious, I cried again. Morgan ran out of the room to get clothes for her new sister and came back in with everything she could carry. Hands down, no contest, the most fun, exciting, fulfilling, empowering, loving, enormous and extraordinary day I could ever hope to experience. The day my family was born.
Kinda makes you want to have a baby, doesn't it?
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Anticipation.
Many women never notice the intricate relationship they have with their wombs when awaiting a baby-I can't help but notice mine, as we have been arguing heatedly recently. See, a situation we were hoping to avoid arose this weekend, one which put me back on the "trying to hold out" path in terms of giving birth, and one which unfortunately has put a slight taint on my relationship with my midwives.
My two primary midwives, whom I adore beyond expression, both women who respect and care for me as more than a "client" but as a part of their community, are wonderful. I trust them implicitly and have been anticipating another pregnancy and birth in their care since Morgan was born. Throghout this pregnancy, though, there have been hiccups in my care, all tied to the fact the many more women are seeking out of hospital birth-which is wonderful, but is taxing the birth center and the midwives who work there to their limits. Many woman who want birth OOH aren't ready to take the plunge all the way to homebirth, they want a happy medium-and there just aren't enough freestanding birth centers. So the midwives are stuck in a pickle-do they turn women away to better concentrate their time on the ones who got there first, do they take them all and kill themselves with sleep deprivation, or do they try to expand their services by hiring more midwives? After trying the second option and deciding they really didn't like it (from 4-9 births a week, which doesn't sound like much if you aren't familiar with midwifery-but midwives stay with their clients throughout labor and delivery-so if 5 clients labor 10 hrs each, plus 4 hrs post-partum care, the midwife is putting in 70 hrs not including their clinic visits during business hrs--they were dying), they hired a new midwife into their practice. My issue is that I did not know this was happening until I was 3 months into my pregnancy-didn't meet the new recruit until 19 wks, and have only seen her 3 times. Add to the pot that every visit with her has revolved around bad news (preterm contrax, anemia, pre-eclampsia scare) and the fact that her personality isn't one I would have chosen in a midwife, and there was no way we could form a good relationship. So long story short, she's a "junior" member of the team, offering back-up support to the other two and being on call herself only every third weekend. I discussed my discomfort with the idea of her attending the birth with the other two, and both were confident it needn't be worried about as she's on call so little, and that they work extra hard to make sure one of them were with me instead-one even went to the extra length of giving me her personal number so I could contact her directly if the new gal were on call.
So here's the issue-new gal is on call this weekend, and the other two are not available (well, if I were to go later this evening I could probably get one of them, but it would be a hardship for her). Other issue-my body is trying to go into labor.
The whole thing just stinks. I chose midwifery care, and these midwives in particular, because I wanted to attention and care that they provide-they come to know you, to care about you, knowing that a loving, trusting relationship with your cargiver makes for healthier pregnancies and births. The whole thing seems even more crazy when I think back to Garrett's birth and the doc who attended it-a total stranger to me who came in at 9 cm and left right after I was cleaned up. I never saw her again. At the time that didn't seem like too big a deal, I had really wanted my own doc, but knew there was a good chance I wouldn't get her. It hasn't been until the last few years that I've realized how much it did affect me to have a total stranger touching me in the way a caregiver must to assist a baby out. I felt very self-conscious, I forced myself to not make any noise, I didn't interact with her at ALL, not even to tell her when she was hurting me. And she was a nice lady! But I meet nice ladies all the time, and don't let them catch my babies.
Fortunately it looks like we're going to be able to hold off for the rest of today, and hopefully have a wonderful birth in the next day or two-but that won't completely take away the anxiety and tension I've gone through the last couple of days, stress that really isn't good for either me or the baby. I don't know if I've explained this well enough for those of you reading to really see where I'm coming from, as it really might seem like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. What it comes down to is choice. I've learned the impoortance of exercising your right to choose in regards to birth, and by having this woman thrust on me, that right has been taken away. This is never supposed to happen with good midwifery care (yes, there is poor midwifery care-that's why it's important to be able to choose your practitioner), and it has left me with a really foul taste in my mouth which upsets me even more as I never like to be upset with the people I care about (meaning the primary midwives).
So, back to my initial statement-I am arguing with my womb, but I think I have it convinced that waiting a bit longer will be in both of our best interests. And if it doesn't happen, and I have the baby tonight with the new gal, I'll work with it-I have surrounded myself with a wonderful birth team all sensitive to the situation who will do their utmost to protect my space-but I'd rather that not be the focus. I'd much rather everybody be able to enjoy the journey and welcome the baby in peace and love. But that will happen anyway, right?
And now I feel obliged, after dumping so much me-focused rhetoric, to share some of the antics of the OTHER members of my family. Garrett is teaching everyone to play chess. I'd love to leave it at that and allow everyone to assume this is just another layer of his brilliance-after all, he's taught himself addition, subtraction, and multiplication (along with some simple algebra), it isn't that much of a stretch to think he's a blooming chess prodigy, right?
Except he can't remember how to play. He knows how to set up the board, and that pawns move forward and rooks move up and back. He knows you have to capture the king. That's about it. Today he played with my dad. I can't even describe how the "game" went, except to say that is was hysterical--he made up the rules as they went, even capturing a few of his own men by mistake. But he doesn't change his rules--once he's given the instruction, he sticks to it (it doesn't have to make any sense). He's a very patient teacher, with no tolerance for cheating. And remarkabley, I believe Dad beat him. I don't think even Dad knows how that happened, but Garrett was very happy for him.
My two primary midwives, whom I adore beyond expression, both women who respect and care for me as more than a "client" but as a part of their community, are wonderful. I trust them implicitly and have been anticipating another pregnancy and birth in their care since Morgan was born. Throghout this pregnancy, though, there have been hiccups in my care, all tied to the fact the many more women are seeking out of hospital birth-which is wonderful, but is taxing the birth center and the midwives who work there to their limits. Many woman who want birth OOH aren't ready to take the plunge all the way to homebirth, they want a happy medium-and there just aren't enough freestanding birth centers. So the midwives are stuck in a pickle-do they turn women away to better concentrate their time on the ones who got there first, do they take them all and kill themselves with sleep deprivation, or do they try to expand their services by hiring more midwives? After trying the second option and deciding they really didn't like it (from 4-9 births a week, which doesn't sound like much if you aren't familiar with midwifery-but midwives stay with their clients throughout labor and delivery-so if 5 clients labor 10 hrs each, plus 4 hrs post-partum care, the midwife is putting in 70 hrs not including their clinic visits during business hrs--they were dying), they hired a new midwife into their practice. My issue is that I did not know this was happening until I was 3 months into my pregnancy-didn't meet the new recruit until 19 wks, and have only seen her 3 times. Add to the pot that every visit with her has revolved around bad news (preterm contrax, anemia, pre-eclampsia scare) and the fact that her personality isn't one I would have chosen in a midwife, and there was no way we could form a good relationship. So long story short, she's a "junior" member of the team, offering back-up support to the other two and being on call herself only every third weekend. I discussed my discomfort with the idea of her attending the birth with the other two, and both were confident it needn't be worried about as she's on call so little, and that they work extra hard to make sure one of them were with me instead-one even went to the extra length of giving me her personal number so I could contact her directly if the new gal were on call.
So here's the issue-new gal is on call this weekend, and the other two are not available (well, if I were to go later this evening I could probably get one of them, but it would be a hardship for her). Other issue-my body is trying to go into labor.
The whole thing just stinks. I chose midwifery care, and these midwives in particular, because I wanted to attention and care that they provide-they come to know you, to care about you, knowing that a loving, trusting relationship with your cargiver makes for healthier pregnancies and births. The whole thing seems even more crazy when I think back to Garrett's birth and the doc who attended it-a total stranger to me who came in at 9 cm and left right after I was cleaned up. I never saw her again. At the time that didn't seem like too big a deal, I had really wanted my own doc, but knew there was a good chance I wouldn't get her. It hasn't been until the last few years that I've realized how much it did affect me to have a total stranger touching me in the way a caregiver must to assist a baby out. I felt very self-conscious, I forced myself to not make any noise, I didn't interact with her at ALL, not even to tell her when she was hurting me. And she was a nice lady! But I meet nice ladies all the time, and don't let them catch my babies.
Fortunately it looks like we're going to be able to hold off for the rest of today, and hopefully have a wonderful birth in the next day or two-but that won't completely take away the anxiety and tension I've gone through the last couple of days, stress that really isn't good for either me or the baby. I don't know if I've explained this well enough for those of you reading to really see where I'm coming from, as it really might seem like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. What it comes down to is choice. I've learned the impoortance of exercising your right to choose in regards to birth, and by having this woman thrust on me, that right has been taken away. This is never supposed to happen with good midwifery care (yes, there is poor midwifery care-that's why it's important to be able to choose your practitioner), and it has left me with a really foul taste in my mouth which upsets me even more as I never like to be upset with the people I care about (meaning the primary midwives).
So, back to my initial statement-I am arguing with my womb, but I think I have it convinced that waiting a bit longer will be in both of our best interests. And if it doesn't happen, and I have the baby tonight with the new gal, I'll work with it-I have surrounded myself with a wonderful birth team all sensitive to the situation who will do their utmost to protect my space-but I'd rather that not be the focus. I'd much rather everybody be able to enjoy the journey and welcome the baby in peace and love. But that will happen anyway, right?
And now I feel obliged, after dumping so much me-focused rhetoric, to share some of the antics of the OTHER members of my family. Garrett is teaching everyone to play chess. I'd love to leave it at that and allow everyone to assume this is just another layer of his brilliance-after all, he's taught himself addition, subtraction, and multiplication (along with some simple algebra), it isn't that much of a stretch to think he's a blooming chess prodigy, right?
Except he can't remember how to play. He knows how to set up the board, and that pawns move forward and rooks move up and back. He knows you have to capture the king. That's about it. Today he played with my dad. I can't even describe how the "game" went, except to say that is was hysterical--he made up the rules as they went, even capturing a few of his own men by mistake. But he doesn't change his rules--once he's given the instruction, he sticks to it (it doesn't have to make any sense). He's a very patient teacher, with no tolerance for cheating. And remarkabley, I believe Dad beat him. I don't think even Dad knows how that happened, but Garrett was very happy for him.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
39....
The end of a pregnancy always brings an array of emotions--sadness that it's almost over, anticipation of meeting the child that's been pummeling my innards, anxiety and excitement over the unknowns of the upcoming birth...I could go on, but you get the idea. This time I'm having harder time just being excited as I know that this will be our last and I'll never feel a baby growing inside me again. To some women this is a relief, knowing that portion of their work is done--but I face it with dismay. I will do my utmost to perserve the memories of this and my other pregnancies, but it isn't the same. The end of a chapter, so to speak. But enough belly-aching (pun intended) about leaving this part of my life behind. There are things to be joyful about, and thankful for, in the present and future.
On Monday my midwives declared that they have no idea what happened to me, and that never in (Ali's) career has she seen bloodwork do what mine did. Everything has stabilized, and my bloodpressure is great-even low, in comparison to other women at full term. The baby is VERY low in my pelvis, which makes for some interesting sensations when the little one gets REALLY excited, and after requesting an exam (my midwives do not do vaginal exams prior to labor unless mom wants it), she confirmed what I'd already suspected-basically we're ready to rip, and cold go at any time--or be pregnant for several more days. We'll see what baby decides.
Yesterday my dad arrived, so all are now assembled and (astonishingly) the house is clean, orderly, and all the birth supplies are in the appropriate places. So now we really are just waiting. The kids are beyond excited as baby items begin to emerge (they each had to take turns "sleeping" in the cradle), and Garrett couldn't settle down to sleep last night until I promised him we would wake him should the baby come during the night. I am happy to take the days we have and enjoy the company of my family-after days of restricting my activity to keep from delivering before Dad arrived, I am looking forward to a lovely long walk in the park and (strangely enough) doing the laundry myself. Troy is very anxious, moreso than with the other two I think, and looking forward to the possibility of "getting the call" at work-which hasn't happened before.
Regardless of what transpires, the next week promises to be an exciting one.
On Monday my midwives declared that they have no idea what happened to me, and that never in (Ali's) career has she seen bloodwork do what mine did. Everything has stabilized, and my bloodpressure is great-even low, in comparison to other women at full term. The baby is VERY low in my pelvis, which makes for some interesting sensations when the little one gets REALLY excited, and after requesting an exam (my midwives do not do vaginal exams prior to labor unless mom wants it), she confirmed what I'd already suspected-basically we're ready to rip, and cold go at any time--or be pregnant for several more days. We'll see what baby decides.
Yesterday my dad arrived, so all are now assembled and (astonishingly) the house is clean, orderly, and all the birth supplies are in the appropriate places. So now we really are just waiting. The kids are beyond excited as baby items begin to emerge (they each had to take turns "sleeping" in the cradle), and Garrett couldn't settle down to sleep last night until I promised him we would wake him should the baby come during the night. I am happy to take the days we have and enjoy the company of my family-after days of restricting my activity to keep from delivering before Dad arrived, I am looking forward to a lovely long walk in the park and (strangely enough) doing the laundry myself. Troy is very anxious, moreso than with the other two I think, and looking forward to the possibility of "getting the call" at work-which hasn't happened before.
Regardless of what transpires, the next week promises to be an exciting one.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
38 weeks and Holy Hotness Batman!
So apparently my plan of ending my pregnancy before the heat of summer arrived has backfired--while us Seattleites usually enjoy a cool, damp, and sometimes dreary June, this year Ma Nature is thumbing her nose at my careful planning by sending us our first heat wave remarkabley early. Yesterday hit about 95 in my back yard, which in our particular climate feels like being wrapped in a wool blanket whilst sitting in a sauna. Being humongously pregnant doesn't help. By late afternoon I felt drugged, but couldn't sleep because it was too warm in the house. When I finally was able to drift off, I slept to hard and too long resulting in a very groggy, lethargic evening. I felt much better after soaking in a cool bath for awhile. The kids had a ball-they played outside nearly all day, enjoying the sprinkler and potting veggie plants with Grandma. Garrett was disappointed to miss our first Farmer's Market of the year, but Grandma decided it was just too hot to try and walk him down there, and I agreed.
Today is my self-imposed deadline to have everything ready for the birth. We have our last meeting with our doula tonight, and I want everything in place so we can do a walk-through of the house to show her where it all is. That means I have to clean out our dressing room (our bedroom is comprised of two smaller rooms that we connected with french double doors-one houses our bed, the other our dressers and closets-it also holds the cradle and rocking chair-that's the "dressing room" (or as Morgan calls it, "dressing-up room")--aren't we fancy?) to make way for the birth pool and stools for people to sit on. I also need to create a tidy place for towels and linens, as well as the medical supplies. We'll set up candles on the dresser tops, and might have time to squeeze in installing a dimmer switch for the little chandelier we have in there, but it should turn out to be a very lovely birthing space. And having everything in there as opposed to the living room gives our guests a place to go should I require some private time. We have, as usual, quite the list of potential attendees (nearly all are contingent on when labor happens and how long it lasts)--myself, Troy, my mom and the kids are definites, followed by two midwives and our doula (unless I have a super-fast labor, which is a possibility but not a real concern), my dad (if baby can wait until the 10th), Erin (close friend and videographer of our other births), and Katie (another close friend who was present for Morgan's birth). That's 10 (not including me) people. That's a lot. But really, in comparison to a hospital birth where you will have 2-3 nurses, 1-4 doctors, 1-2 companions, 1 doula, and yourself, it isn't that bad-and I'd choose 10 people I know and love over 5 strangers in my birth room any day. And this way I can have some privacy without having to hide in the bathroom (I've had to send a number of laboring mommas into the bathroom for alone time because nurses and/or docs wouldn't leave them alone in their hospital rooms--seriously, who wants to go cry about medical interventions in a strange bathroom?) and my birth attendants will have a comfy place to hang out until I need them again. All in all, I'm really excited about creating my "birth suite" and am really hoping to labor for at least 3 or 4 hours so that I get a chance to use it. That may sound odd, a momma hoping for a longer rather than shorter labor, but I enjoy giving birth-and the shorter it is, the less time you have to adjust to the process and be in the moment--this makes the journey (and pain) more intense and out-of-control feeling. Now granted, I've never gone through a long, hard labor, so we'll see how this one goes and whether my attitude stays the same.
Fast forward to later today: Mom and I took the kids to a park on the Cedar River today in an attempt to relax, have fun, and stay cool. While we had fun and stayed cool, there was not so much of the relaxing--such is the life of a momma with young, energetic children. This particular park is neat because there is a little alcove built next to the river, so that river water runs in and out but there is a low wall to block the current (a very good thing, as it was running fast with snow melt-off today). So the kids were able to play in it much like a lake beach, but much colder-if I stood in it too long it made my calves cramp. So while I didn't get to bob around as I would have liked, it was hilarious watching the kids explore and test their own limits with the temperature-by the time we left they were able to sit in it up to their armpits, and tried to convince us they weren't cold! But oh, it was nice to sit in the shade with a cool breeze coming across the water. And get a little bit of sun on my gargantuan belly ;).
Oh, and I suppose I should add that at Monday's appt with midwife Val my blood pressure was normal, my urine test from the week before was great (no protein whatsoever, for those who googled preeclampsia-Shelley, you're going to be a walking pregnancy textbook by the time this baby is born ;) ), and while I've gained more weight than I'd like, we are all very pleased with things right now! Val drew more blood because, as she said, "once we start drawing, we kind of have to keep doing it," but she doesn't expect it to look weird--though she did admit being very alarmed by the initial bloodwork that set this whole mess rolling last week. We are very happy to no longer be alarming.
Oh, and we had a wonderful time throwing my henna party this last Sunday. It was just a joy-all my ladies (minus a few who had fairly legitimate reasons for not attending) gathered around, waiting on me, massaging my feet, and thoroughly enjoying each others' company while we all got painted. My belly art is awesome (it drew quite a few eyes at the beach today) and I really loved the general feeling of peace and happiness everyone brought along with them.
About 10 minutes in:
30 Min in:
Almost done! She was awesome-she added a bunch of stuff to the original design as I would request it, and made it look like it was supposed to be there. And she's only 19! (She works with her mom, who did the other ladies' art and was also my mentor doula during my training.) I soooo want to learn to do henna.
The ladies with their hands done (minus mom and my doula-mom's taking the shot and Alissa had to leave prior)-the artists took portraits of us all outside as well, I'll post them when I get them. My belly looks weird and oblong here...or maybe that's how it always looks, I can't see the whole thing all at once!! 
The henna looks very dark here because the paste is still on--it takes about 6 hrs to set. I'll take more pics tomorrow so you can see what it looks like now that it has its full color-it takes a few days to finish staining and will stay for 2-3 wks, depending on how well I protect it. It's very cool and I totally recommend it.
It seems unreal that all these things I've been waiting for (readying the birth room, henna-ing my belly, gathering baby supplies, etc) are actually happening and we are now just counting days until our family has a new member. This pregnancy has been a complicated, unpredictable journey--but one I will saver while I have it and cherish forever, as with the little human we will soon have as a result of it. Despite all the hurdles, today I am just joyful. What a wonderful feeling.
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