While cleaning out the fridge today I spotted an unidentifiable object that piqued my interest. There have been many surprises in the fridge lately because I was bedridden for 3 weeks after Arden's birth, and we've been blessed with friends bringing us yummy meals on a regular basis ever since.
This particular item was a gallon ziploc bag within another gallon ziploc bag, the solid contents concealed in about a quart of red liquid. At first I thought it was leftovers of a vegetable soup somebody had made for us, but it was a slightly different shade of red and I soon spotted the aforementioned soup on a different shelf. I picked up the bag and squeezed it while turning it over and over in my hands. "What is this?" I wondered, trying to see through the red.
I finally caught a glimpse of something and suddenly realized what it was, or at least what I thought it was. "Is this our placenta?" I wondered. I remembered my friend Susan telling me that she had put it in the freezer the morning of the birth, so that made me wonder what it was doing in the fridge. Later on I asked Mark if it was our placenta that I had found in the fridge.
"No, it's a steak I'm thawing out," he replied.
"A steak with an umbilical cord?" I asked.
We both headed to the fridge and I pulled out the mystery bag. I could tell by the look on his face that it was much soup-ier than he expected, and we both knew immediately that he had just accidentally thawed our placenta. I can actually see how this mistake could be made - in its frozen state it must have looked solid and very much like a steak. But not so much once it thawed
"Who keeps the placenta, anyway?" Mark asked incredulously, trying to defend himself.
"Who throws them away?" I countered, "They're rich in vitamins and nutrients. I thought we could plant something over it in the yard."
In traditional cultures placentas are buried underneath fruit trees to commemorate the birth and fertilize the tree. Some people eat them ground up in a smoothie or lasagna (not my particular cup of tea, but to each her own), and some people have them encapsulated (which I considered, but I never got around to finding somebody to do it for me.) It has been shown that ingesting the placenta can help combat baby blues/postpartum depression, insufficient milk supply, anemia, insomnia and postpartum hemorrhage, and in general help the mother recover from the birth more quickly. And it makes sense that something designed to nourish the baby could also nourish other living things. So that is why I, and many other women, decide to keep the placenta. I just haven't decided exactly what to do with ours yet and, if this is any indication of how hectic things have been around here, hadn't explicitly told Mark to expect seeing ours in the freezer (although I could have sworn I mentioned it to him several times offhandedly while I was pregnant...)
So, who wants to come over for dinner? (ha, ha)
Showing posts with label Pregnancy/Birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy/Birth. Show all posts
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Arden's Birth Story, Part 2: The Transfer
After our beautiful birth I got out of the tub and was helped over to the bed to be examined, birth the placenta, and nurse the baby. I was still pretty dazed so it’s all kind of a blur but I remember Jeanne pushing on my belly to see if my uterus was contracting, and the resulting gush of blood each time. I was feeling really weak and tired, losing so much blood. While I nursed Arden, Karen fed me a bowl of yogurt and granola (which for some reason sounded and tasted amazing at the time) and a glass of iced shepherd’s purse tea (which tasted awful, but is supposed to help the uterus to contract and stop the bleeding).
“No offense, Sarah,” I said, “but your tea tastes awful!” “I know,” she replied with a smile, “it kind of tastes like a stable, doesn’t it?” The nourishment helped me to feel a little better, but I was still bleeding and feeling weak. I don’t remember the order of the following, but over the next short period of time Jeanne gave me two shots of Pitocin in my thigh and I was asked to blow into my straw to make bubbles in my tea to help me push the placenta out (so much better than somebody tugging on the cord, as was done to me after Claire’s birth! No resulting pain or surgery this time!)
It wasn’t long before the idea of transferring to the hospital was brought up to me. I could see the concern in everybody’s eyes, and I was feeling so tired that even lying there doing nothing was a chore, so it was no surprise to me. By this time my friend Susan had arrived and was playing with Claire; there was a lot of activity going on around me, but I wasn’t very aware. I remember Sarah putting an oxygen mask on me, but it was so loud that I couldn’t hear what everybody around me was saying. Soon Jeanne leaned over and gently said that she thought an ambulance would be a good idea – there was no way I’d make it down the stairs in my condition. I agreed, and the flurry of activity continued as everybody helped me get dressed, alerted Mark and Susan (who were caring for the kids downstairs), and packed up equipment.
Within minutes two men in uniform appeared at the foot of my bed and introduced themselves as Val and John. I wasn’t sure what to expect – I’ve heard of home birth transfers where EMTs and hospital staff are hostile to the mother and her birth team (as if to say, “the hospital isn’t good enough for you to birth in until there’s an emergency, eh?”) But these two men were very respectful and kind. They brought with them a special wheel chair with gears designed for taking patients down stairs, and carefully loaded and strapped me in while explaining what they were doing. “We’re going to do all the work – once we get going down the stairs, you might feel like you want to reach out and grab onto the railing, but don’t. Keep your arms crossed over your chest and don’t worry,” Val continued with a smile, “we haven’t dropped anybody yet today.” I laughed and told him I’d keep my hands in the bus.
Once at the bottom of the stairs we were met by a few police officers who introduced themselves and helped lift me onto a stretcher before wheeling me down our long driveway to the waiting ambulance. It was really nice that they had arrived quietly and without sirens, but why couldn’t they have backed up to the front door? I felt so self conscious like all of the neighbors were probably watching. Just as they loaded me into the ambulance, our new neighbor from a few doors down (of about a week, who we haven’t met yet) pulled out of her driveway and drove past us. What a lovely first impression! Once inside, I looked around and noticed how secure everything was, but I still couldn’t help picturing a scene in the comedy Just Friends where the main character is being transported in an ambulance; equipment is falling off of shelves and onto him with every bump and turn but nobody notices, and his mouth is injured so he can’t talk around the mouthful of gauze. It helped to think of this scene, and to know that we were being followed by Mark, Arden, Jeanne and Sarah. As we rode they took my blood pressure and pulse and inserted an IV, while talking and joking around with me. After calling the hospital with my vitals, Val asked me what our baby’s name was. When I told him we hadn’t decided, he joked that we should name her Valerie, after him (his full name is Valentino.) It was a really pleasant ride, all things considered, and I was so thankful to have gotten such great people for the transfer.
I was also fortunate that a great ER doctor, midwife, and team of nurses were working that morning, and soon I was settled in a labor and delivery bed about to be sewn up. It took about an hour and was very painful, even with 6 shots of lidocaine. But it helped having my support team there with me: Mark nearby holding Arden, Jeanne sitting near the hospital midwife watching her careful stitching, and Sarah sitting next to me the entire time, holding my hand and rubbing my arm. About halfway through, the hospital midwife looked over at Jeanne and said “You made the right call.” I wholeheartedly agree; this was not a minor injury. Susan stayed home with Claire (what a treat! Claire later told me all about the fun she had with her good friend’s mom), and Karen stayed home to empty the tub, throw in laundry, and finish cleaning up.
The hospital was busy so we waited around until 5:00pm to be released. What a long day! It felt so good to get home and back into my own pajamas and bed. It took all of my energy to do this, but it was worth it. The next day Sarah came over to check on us, and on the third day Jeanne came by. The third day is when a blood test will show the true iron count after a hemorrhage, so Jeanne tested mine. It was an 8, on a scale where 12-15 is normal. So it’s no wonder that a week later I can barely make it out of bed, I’m still so weak. I also injured my tailbone during the birth, so sitting was excruciating at first, and now can be done but only for short periods. I wanted to do the whole “laying in” thing, but I had pictured it a little differently!
Even with the transfer and all of these struggles, I am still so satisfied and fulfilled by this birth experience. I had my drug- and intervention- free birth at home, exactly how I wanted it, and we have a beautiful and healthy baby who I cannot stop staring at. I was treated incredibly well the entire time, and continue to be cared for here at home – we have another postpartum visit with our midwives today, and I don’t even have to leave my bed (I felt even worse after Claire’s hospital birth, but still had to make almost daily trips to the hospital and clinic for the two of us). We came home to a clean house, clean laundry, food in the fridge, and a happy toddler.
I had an almost identical birth with Claire – drug-free labor and water birth (one intervention, the midwife broke my water), compound presentation and 3rd degree tear, and hemorrhage. But the recovery after that birth was on the other end of the spectrum. The hospital midwife was cold and harsh; nobody held my hand; I was separated from Claire while they examined me; nurses fought in front of me about who was better at putting IVs in and whether the OB should be called or not; despite my protests, the hospital midwife yanked on the umbilical cord to get the placenta out before the hospital’s asinine 30 minute time limit, which resulted in pieces of it remaining stuck inside of me…and this resulted in 2 weeks of dangerous hemorrhaging which made surgery necessary; I barely slept and had great difficulty nursing Claire for 2 days because the hospital bed was so uncomfortable and I was tangled up with tubes, and nurses came in every few hours to take blood, monitor blood pressure and temperature; I had some very nice and competent nurses, but I also had a few terrible ones and it was frustrating dealing with the revolving door of strangers when I didn’t feel well; because my health dipped so low my milk took longer to come in, so Claire lost too much weight and we had the added stress of a baby headed toward “failure to thrive”. The stark contrast between these two births is incredible, and the hospital version was no safer than the home version. In fact, I’m faring much better having birthed at home this time.
So as I lay here in bed regularly shifting and re-adjusting the pillows holding me up, and sometimes typing one-handed, I am so thankful. Thankful for the wonderful people who have surrounded me and made this the beautiful experience that it was/is, thankful for my healthy family of 4, thankful for the friends who have visited and brought food. I may still have a few weeks of feeling tired and healing my tailbone on the horizon, but physical wounds heal relatively quickly. It’s been 2 and a half years since Claire’s birth and I am still dealing with the emotions resulting from the poor treatment I received. In a way, this experience is helping to heal the pain from the first. What a powerful gift to give a woman.
“No offense, Sarah,” I said, “but your tea tastes awful!” “I know,” she replied with a smile, “it kind of tastes like a stable, doesn’t it?” The nourishment helped me to feel a little better, but I was still bleeding and feeling weak. I don’t remember the order of the following, but over the next short period of time Jeanne gave me two shots of Pitocin in my thigh and I was asked to blow into my straw to make bubbles in my tea to help me push the placenta out (so much better than somebody tugging on the cord, as was done to me after Claire’s birth! No resulting pain or surgery this time!)
It wasn’t long before the idea of transferring to the hospital was brought up to me. I could see the concern in everybody’s eyes, and I was feeling so tired that even lying there doing nothing was a chore, so it was no surprise to me. By this time my friend Susan had arrived and was playing with Claire; there was a lot of activity going on around me, but I wasn’t very aware. I remember Sarah putting an oxygen mask on me, but it was so loud that I couldn’t hear what everybody around me was saying. Soon Jeanne leaned over and gently said that she thought an ambulance would be a good idea – there was no way I’d make it down the stairs in my condition. I agreed, and the flurry of activity continued as everybody helped me get dressed, alerted Mark and Susan (who were caring for the kids downstairs), and packed up equipment.
Within minutes two men in uniform appeared at the foot of my bed and introduced themselves as Val and John. I wasn’t sure what to expect – I’ve heard of home birth transfers where EMTs and hospital staff are hostile to the mother and her birth team (as if to say, “the hospital isn’t good enough for you to birth in until there’s an emergency, eh?”) But these two men were very respectful and kind. They brought with them a special wheel chair with gears designed for taking patients down stairs, and carefully loaded and strapped me in while explaining what they were doing. “We’re going to do all the work – once we get going down the stairs, you might feel like you want to reach out and grab onto the railing, but don’t. Keep your arms crossed over your chest and don’t worry,” Val continued with a smile, “we haven’t dropped anybody yet today.” I laughed and told him I’d keep my hands in the bus.
Once at the bottom of the stairs we were met by a few police officers who introduced themselves and helped lift me onto a stretcher before wheeling me down our long driveway to the waiting ambulance. It was really nice that they had arrived quietly and without sirens, but why couldn’t they have backed up to the front door? I felt so self conscious like all of the neighbors were probably watching. Just as they loaded me into the ambulance, our new neighbor from a few doors down (of about a week, who we haven’t met yet) pulled out of her driveway and drove past us. What a lovely first impression! Once inside, I looked around and noticed how secure everything was, but I still couldn’t help picturing a scene in the comedy Just Friends where the main character is being transported in an ambulance; equipment is falling off of shelves and onto him with every bump and turn but nobody notices, and his mouth is injured so he can’t talk around the mouthful of gauze. It helped to think of this scene, and to know that we were being followed by Mark, Arden, Jeanne and Sarah. As we rode they took my blood pressure and pulse and inserted an IV, while talking and joking around with me. After calling the hospital with my vitals, Val asked me what our baby’s name was. When I told him we hadn’t decided, he joked that we should name her Valerie, after him (his full name is Valentino.) It was a really pleasant ride, all things considered, and I was so thankful to have gotten such great people for the transfer.
I was also fortunate that a great ER doctor, midwife, and team of nurses were working that morning, and soon I was settled in a labor and delivery bed about to be sewn up. It took about an hour and was very painful, even with 6 shots of lidocaine. But it helped having my support team there with me: Mark nearby holding Arden, Jeanne sitting near the hospital midwife watching her careful stitching, and Sarah sitting next to me the entire time, holding my hand and rubbing my arm. About halfway through, the hospital midwife looked over at Jeanne and said “You made the right call.” I wholeheartedly agree; this was not a minor injury. Susan stayed home with Claire (what a treat! Claire later told me all about the fun she had with her good friend’s mom), and Karen stayed home to empty the tub, throw in laundry, and finish cleaning up.
The hospital was busy so we waited around until 5:00pm to be released. What a long day! It felt so good to get home and back into my own pajamas and bed. It took all of my energy to do this, but it was worth it. The next day Sarah came over to check on us, and on the third day Jeanne came by. The third day is when a blood test will show the true iron count after a hemorrhage, so Jeanne tested mine. It was an 8, on a scale where 12-15 is normal. So it’s no wonder that a week later I can barely make it out of bed, I’m still so weak. I also injured my tailbone during the birth, so sitting was excruciating at first, and now can be done but only for short periods. I wanted to do the whole “laying in” thing, but I had pictured it a little differently!
Even with the transfer and all of these struggles, I am still so satisfied and fulfilled by this birth experience. I had my drug- and intervention- free birth at home, exactly how I wanted it, and we have a beautiful and healthy baby who I cannot stop staring at. I was treated incredibly well the entire time, and continue to be cared for here at home – we have another postpartum visit with our midwives today, and I don’t even have to leave my bed (I felt even worse after Claire’s hospital birth, but still had to make almost daily trips to the hospital and clinic for the two of us). We came home to a clean house, clean laundry, food in the fridge, and a happy toddler.
I had an almost identical birth with Claire – drug-free labor and water birth (one intervention, the midwife broke my water), compound presentation and 3rd degree tear, and hemorrhage. But the recovery after that birth was on the other end of the spectrum. The hospital midwife was cold and harsh; nobody held my hand; I was separated from Claire while they examined me; nurses fought in front of me about who was better at putting IVs in and whether the OB should be called or not; despite my protests, the hospital midwife yanked on the umbilical cord to get the placenta out before the hospital’s asinine 30 minute time limit, which resulted in pieces of it remaining stuck inside of me…and this resulted in 2 weeks of dangerous hemorrhaging which made surgery necessary; I barely slept and had great difficulty nursing Claire for 2 days because the hospital bed was so uncomfortable and I was tangled up with tubes, and nurses came in every few hours to take blood, monitor blood pressure and temperature; I had some very nice and competent nurses, but I also had a few terrible ones and it was frustrating dealing with the revolving door of strangers when I didn’t feel well; because my health dipped so low my milk took longer to come in, so Claire lost too much weight and we had the added stress of a baby headed toward “failure to thrive”. The stark contrast between these two births is incredible, and the hospital version was no safer than the home version. In fact, I’m faring much better having birthed at home this time.
So as I lay here in bed regularly shifting and re-adjusting the pillows holding me up, and sometimes typing one-handed, I am so thankful. Thankful for the wonderful people who have surrounded me and made this the beautiful experience that it was/is, thankful for my healthy family of 4, thankful for the friends who have visited and brought food. I may still have a few weeks of feeling tired and healing my tailbone on the horizon, but physical wounds heal relatively quickly. It’s been 2 and a half years since Claire’s birth and I am still dealing with the emotions resulting from the poor treatment I received. In a way, this experience is helping to heal the pain from the first. What a powerful gift to give a woman.
Arden's Birth Story, Part 1: The Birth
For more than a week before Arden was born I felt like labor was just minutes away. I think my body was just starting to prepare that far in advance, which translated to about 10 days of feeling extra sore, achy, crampy, headachy, and frustrated. Before bed each night I would make sure the house was spotless in case that night was the night, and every day I made sure we had plenty of food in the fridge and that everything was labeled just in case. I wanted everything to be perfect for when my birth team arrived, but after this many nights of anticipation I was finally too cranky to care one night. “I will be the first woman on Earth to be pregnant forever,” I thought to myself as I lugged my belly and aching joints up the stairs. It was only 9pm and the house wasn’t spotless, but I said a quick goodnight to Mark and went to bed.
This, of course, is the night labor finally started.
Around midnight a strong backache woke me from a deep sleep, and I tried to keep myself from wondering if this was it. I had gotten my hopes up so many nights (and days) before. Just as I was starting to drift off again, I felt another wave of tightness in my lower back. This is exactly how Claire’s labor started, so I waited for a few more to establish a pattern, and then woke Mark to give him a heads up. A good plan for labor is to ignore it as long as possible, and to get some fluids, food, a shower, and/or rest in the meantime. And that’s what I would have done, but by 12:20 contractions were lasting 1-2 minutes and were 6 minutes apart; there wasn’t much more I could do than to try and stay comfortable lying on my side in bed, just breathing through them. At this point I told Mark that contractions were “mild, but uncomfortable and definitely there.”
Claire’s labor lasted about 17 hours after this same sort of contraction started, but I also knew that a second labor could be significantly shorter – maybe by half – so we weren’t sure what to expect. It felt too early to call anybody, but by 12:49 I told Mark we should call our team so they could start making necessary arrangements. Mark called our midwife Jeanne (who called Sarah, our other midwife), our doulas Karen and Jody, and our photographer Allison, and then began filling the birth tub. We figured it would still be a long time, but I remember saying “wouldn’t it be cool if this baby was born by 6am, so that Claire could get a good night’s sleep and wake up to her new sibling?” We both laughed and continued with the laboring and tub-filling.
The contractions stayed centered in my lower back, and I tried a variety of positions to see which offered the most relief: side-lying on the bed, on my knees draped over the exercise ball, and leaning on Mark while standing. It was no contest, lying on my side supported by pillows was the best. I was able to completely relax and focus on long, deep breaths which made the contractions bearable. They began picking up, and at 2:30 they were 4 minutes apart and pretty strong, so I got in the birth tub. “Am I getting in too soon?” I wondered. I had only been laboring a few hours, and worried for a second that we were making too big a deal of this too soon. But it felt right and I was too busy concentrating on my breathing to worry for too long. A few contractions later I asked Mark to call Karen and Allison back – I still kind of wondered if it was too soon, but the contractions were getting more challenging and I felt like I needed my team.
I remember when Allison arrived, which according to Mark’s notes was 3:30. I was in the tub, draped over the side with my body floating out behind me. It felt so good to be weightless and comforted by the warmth of the water, and while I was too focused on laboring to do or say much else, Allison’s presence was really comforting. I remember her offering to light the candles I had set out around the room, so that Mark could continue to focus his energy on pressing his hands into my lower back. The counter pressure really helped with the back labor. The only problem was that I needed strong pressure during the contractions, but because my body was floating he was also pushing me down into the water. So I slid around to a long side of the oval tub and onto my knees, upper body still draped over the edge, and was able to get better traction without affecting my relaxation. This also made it easier for him to reach me, which was a good thing because soon I would need this pressure during and between contractions.
A few minutes after Allison arrived we heard Claire wake up, so Mark ran in to rub her back and get her back to sleep. I was open to the idea of Claire witnessing the birth – she had watched (and loved!) several birth videos and we had talked a lot about what would be happening, but I felt like sleep was a higher priority for her at 3am. I was glad when Mark returned solo a few minutes later, knowing Claire was getting some much-needed rest. Karen arrived ten minutes after Allison, and I was again comforted just knowing she was there. She knelt down in front of me and I looked up to see her kind eyes and smile looking back at me. Mark was busy adding more hot water to the tub so she casually dipped her fingers in the water to feel the temp, and asked how everything was going as if she did this sort of thing every day (which she kind of does, actually). I loved how relaxed she was about being there, and not having to worry about feeling self-conscious. There’s no time for that nonsense when you’re in labor.
“Maybe we should call Jeanne and Sarah,” I said a few minutes later. I was still in denial that things were progressing so quickly, but the need to have them there was stronger. Mark made the call at 3:52 and they both arrived within an hour. They came in quietly and began setting up the supplies I had organized in big plastic tubs off to the side, and I focused on the light crinkling of the plastic tarp beneath their feet as they gently moved about. What a lovely sound, reminding me that I was not alone. I was able to completely surrender to the power of the contractions without fear because I knew I was in good hands.
Suddenly something changed, around 5:00 according to the notes, and I asked if there was anything I could do to keep things moving along (as if progressing to contractions that are 2 minutes long and 4 minutes apart in 4 hours wasn’t fast enough?) Maybe a better position, or getting out to walk around? I was looking for a concrete answer, such as “get into a squatting position and the baby will magically appear in 5 minutes.” Or something like that. No such luck; they told me that a position change or walking around could certainly help, and asked what sounded best to me. “I just want this baby out now,” I said with a mix of determination and impatience. Walking sounded like the most drastic measure, so after the next contraction ended I announced that I wanted to get out and take a walk.
Working perfectly together as a team they helped me out of the tub, dried me off and wrapped me in a fluffy towel before I set out down the hallway headed for the stairs. I was being driven by some force with the goal to have this baby as soon as possible, but I still don’t know exactly what it was. Excitement to meet our new baby? Knowing that I hadn’t eaten for several hours or gotten much sleep, so my fuel may not last for very much longer? Maybe both, maybe something completely different.
I leaned against the railing during a contraction on my way to the top of the stairs, and instantly there was a set of hands expertly pressing against the small of my back and another hand gently stroking my arm. I think it was Karen who accompanied me down the stairs (things were so intense at that point, and I was so focused on my breathing that I am not quite sure who was doing what), and when I got to the bottom I had another strong contraction. Again, as soon as I got on my knees and leaned onto the bottom few stairs with my elbows there were hands helping me, pressing into the perfect spot on my back and readjusting the towel that was loosely wrapped around me. When it was over I trekked back up and headed to the guest bed which we had prepared in case I wanted to labor and/or birth there. I had a few contractions along the way and spent about 20 minutes laboring on my side in bed with the same constant and caring attention. What a blissful change from my hospital birthing experience – I was surrounded by strong support, both emotionally and physically, and I felt powerful enough to let go and allow labor to take over.
The last two notes scrawled onto the log Mark and Allison kept are:
5:25 – Back in the tub
5:28 – “I think I might feel like pushing.”
I remember saying that, and yet it didn’t even register in my brain until the words had passed through my lips. “I do?” I thought to myself, incredulously. It took a moment but I realized that, indeed, I did want to push. Mark was busy pressing his hands into my back so Karen knelt down in front of me and put her hands in mine. I pushed gingerly at first, still not quite certain that I was really this far into it because I couldn’t feel the head moving down yet. A few contractions and pushes later and I felt it. Things got even more intense, and I felt a twinge of fear creeping in. “Oh my gosh, I’m really doing this,” I thought. For the first time I felt strong discomfort that breathing alone couldn’t manage. With gentle words of encouragement from my team, I kept pushing through the discomfort and heard myself starting to make sounds for the first time. I grunted with each push as I felt the head descending.
Fear took over and I started thinking “I don’t want to do this. Can I just get a little break? I’m not ready yet. This is scary!” Time had finally picked up and I was acutely aware of each passing second. But it was like they were in my head, as if these wonderful and strong women knew exactly what I was thinking. At just the right moment one of them would say the most perfect and encouraging words. Because of this my pushes became more confident. I felt the baby crowning and I reminded myself that the only way out was through it, so I continued to push. Jeanne told me to reach down and feel my baby, but I couldn’t – I thought it would break my concentration – so she did. She later told me that she felt the head, and then she felt fingers…a compound presentation. She also told me later that she saw blood in the water before the baby even crowned, so she knew something was going on. But thankfully I had no idea at the time because of how calm she and everybody else remained.
Jeanne gently reminded me to slow down and birth the head slowly, and to keep breathing. My last few pushes were accompanied by loud grunts as the head made its way through, and then by screams that Mark later described as 3 octaves higher than any sound he had ever heard come out of me. The time? 5:59 am, just one minute shy of the time I had mentioned when labor first started. And suddenly there were hands reaching in supporting the baby under water behind me as I sat kneeling in the water, trying to catch my breath. They slowly guided our baby between my legs to the front and helped me lift it out of the water, and then eased me back to sit leaning against the tub. I was dazed, and just sat there cradling and staring at this beautiful little being; a towel was draped over the baby to keep it warm and Jeanne noticed the cord was a little short so she made sure I held the baby’s face up and out of the water without pulling on the placenta. The baby’s heartbeat was checked, and we lifted the towel so Mark could announce… “It’s a girl!” I was elated! What a beautiful and empowering experience for me, and a safe and healthy way for our little girl to enter the world: in the comfort of our own home, with the support of a team we love.
And just as I had hoped when labor began, Claire woke up a few minutes later so Mark brought her in to meet her new sibling. Perfect timing! She was still a little sleepy and seemed confused by the crowd of people and the new baby in Mama’s arms, but she came right over to inspect her sibling. I couldn’t say much, but I kept thinking, “I have two daughters…we’re a family of four now!”
This, of course, is the night labor finally started.
Around midnight a strong backache woke me from a deep sleep, and I tried to keep myself from wondering if this was it. I had gotten my hopes up so many nights (and days) before. Just as I was starting to drift off again, I felt another wave of tightness in my lower back. This is exactly how Claire’s labor started, so I waited for a few more to establish a pattern, and then woke Mark to give him a heads up. A good plan for labor is to ignore it as long as possible, and to get some fluids, food, a shower, and/or rest in the meantime. And that’s what I would have done, but by 12:20 contractions were lasting 1-2 minutes and were 6 minutes apart; there wasn’t much more I could do than to try and stay comfortable lying on my side in bed, just breathing through them. At this point I told Mark that contractions were “mild, but uncomfortable and definitely there.”
Claire’s labor lasted about 17 hours after this same sort of contraction started, but I also knew that a second labor could be significantly shorter – maybe by half – so we weren’t sure what to expect. It felt too early to call anybody, but by 12:49 I told Mark we should call our team so they could start making necessary arrangements. Mark called our midwife Jeanne (who called Sarah, our other midwife), our doulas Karen and Jody, and our photographer Allison, and then began filling the birth tub. We figured it would still be a long time, but I remember saying “wouldn’t it be cool if this baby was born by 6am, so that Claire could get a good night’s sleep and wake up to her new sibling?” We both laughed and continued with the laboring and tub-filling.
The contractions stayed centered in my lower back, and I tried a variety of positions to see which offered the most relief: side-lying on the bed, on my knees draped over the exercise ball, and leaning on Mark while standing. It was no contest, lying on my side supported by pillows was the best. I was able to completely relax and focus on long, deep breaths which made the contractions bearable. They began picking up, and at 2:30 they were 4 minutes apart and pretty strong, so I got in the birth tub. “Am I getting in too soon?” I wondered. I had only been laboring a few hours, and worried for a second that we were making too big a deal of this too soon. But it felt right and I was too busy concentrating on my breathing to worry for too long. A few contractions later I asked Mark to call Karen and Allison back – I still kind of wondered if it was too soon, but the contractions were getting more challenging and I felt like I needed my team.
I remember when Allison arrived, which according to Mark’s notes was 3:30. I was in the tub, draped over the side with my body floating out behind me. It felt so good to be weightless and comforted by the warmth of the water, and while I was too focused on laboring to do or say much else, Allison’s presence was really comforting. I remember her offering to light the candles I had set out around the room, so that Mark could continue to focus his energy on pressing his hands into my lower back. The counter pressure really helped with the back labor. The only problem was that I needed strong pressure during the contractions, but because my body was floating he was also pushing me down into the water. So I slid around to a long side of the oval tub and onto my knees, upper body still draped over the edge, and was able to get better traction without affecting my relaxation. This also made it easier for him to reach me, which was a good thing because soon I would need this pressure during and between contractions.
A few minutes after Allison arrived we heard Claire wake up, so Mark ran in to rub her back and get her back to sleep. I was open to the idea of Claire witnessing the birth – she had watched (and loved!) several birth videos and we had talked a lot about what would be happening, but I felt like sleep was a higher priority for her at 3am. I was glad when Mark returned solo a few minutes later, knowing Claire was getting some much-needed rest. Karen arrived ten minutes after Allison, and I was again comforted just knowing she was there. She knelt down in front of me and I looked up to see her kind eyes and smile looking back at me. Mark was busy adding more hot water to the tub so she casually dipped her fingers in the water to feel the temp, and asked how everything was going as if she did this sort of thing every day (which she kind of does, actually). I loved how relaxed she was about being there, and not having to worry about feeling self-conscious. There’s no time for that nonsense when you’re in labor.
“Maybe we should call Jeanne and Sarah,” I said a few minutes later. I was still in denial that things were progressing so quickly, but the need to have them there was stronger. Mark made the call at 3:52 and they both arrived within an hour. They came in quietly and began setting up the supplies I had organized in big plastic tubs off to the side, and I focused on the light crinkling of the plastic tarp beneath their feet as they gently moved about. What a lovely sound, reminding me that I was not alone. I was able to completely surrender to the power of the contractions without fear because I knew I was in good hands.
Suddenly something changed, around 5:00 according to the notes, and I asked if there was anything I could do to keep things moving along (as if progressing to contractions that are 2 minutes long and 4 minutes apart in 4 hours wasn’t fast enough?) Maybe a better position, or getting out to walk around? I was looking for a concrete answer, such as “get into a squatting position and the baby will magically appear in 5 minutes.” Or something like that. No such luck; they told me that a position change or walking around could certainly help, and asked what sounded best to me. “I just want this baby out now,” I said with a mix of determination and impatience. Walking sounded like the most drastic measure, so after the next contraction ended I announced that I wanted to get out and take a walk.
Working perfectly together as a team they helped me out of the tub, dried me off and wrapped me in a fluffy towel before I set out down the hallway headed for the stairs. I was being driven by some force with the goal to have this baby as soon as possible, but I still don’t know exactly what it was. Excitement to meet our new baby? Knowing that I hadn’t eaten for several hours or gotten much sleep, so my fuel may not last for very much longer? Maybe both, maybe something completely different.
I leaned against the railing during a contraction on my way to the top of the stairs, and instantly there was a set of hands expertly pressing against the small of my back and another hand gently stroking my arm. I think it was Karen who accompanied me down the stairs (things were so intense at that point, and I was so focused on my breathing that I am not quite sure who was doing what), and when I got to the bottom I had another strong contraction. Again, as soon as I got on my knees and leaned onto the bottom few stairs with my elbows there were hands helping me, pressing into the perfect spot on my back and readjusting the towel that was loosely wrapped around me. When it was over I trekked back up and headed to the guest bed which we had prepared in case I wanted to labor and/or birth there. I had a few contractions along the way and spent about 20 minutes laboring on my side in bed with the same constant and caring attention. What a blissful change from my hospital birthing experience – I was surrounded by strong support, both emotionally and physically, and I felt powerful enough to let go and allow labor to take over.
The last two notes scrawled onto the log Mark and Allison kept are:
5:25 – Back in the tub
5:28 – “I think I might feel like pushing.”
I remember saying that, and yet it didn’t even register in my brain until the words had passed through my lips. “I do?” I thought to myself, incredulously. It took a moment but I realized that, indeed, I did want to push. Mark was busy pressing his hands into my back so Karen knelt down in front of me and put her hands in mine. I pushed gingerly at first, still not quite certain that I was really this far into it because I couldn’t feel the head moving down yet. A few contractions and pushes later and I felt it. Things got even more intense, and I felt a twinge of fear creeping in. “Oh my gosh, I’m really doing this,” I thought. For the first time I felt strong discomfort that breathing alone couldn’t manage. With gentle words of encouragement from my team, I kept pushing through the discomfort and heard myself starting to make sounds for the first time. I grunted with each push as I felt the head descending.
Fear took over and I started thinking “I don’t want to do this. Can I just get a little break? I’m not ready yet. This is scary!” Time had finally picked up and I was acutely aware of each passing second. But it was like they were in my head, as if these wonderful and strong women knew exactly what I was thinking. At just the right moment one of them would say the most perfect and encouraging words. Because of this my pushes became more confident. I felt the baby crowning and I reminded myself that the only way out was through it, so I continued to push. Jeanne told me to reach down and feel my baby, but I couldn’t – I thought it would break my concentration – so she did. She later told me that she felt the head, and then she felt fingers…a compound presentation. She also told me later that she saw blood in the water before the baby even crowned, so she knew something was going on. But thankfully I had no idea at the time because of how calm she and everybody else remained.
Jeanne gently reminded me to slow down and birth the head slowly, and to keep breathing. My last few pushes were accompanied by loud grunts as the head made its way through, and then by screams that Mark later described as 3 octaves higher than any sound he had ever heard come out of me. The time? 5:59 am, just one minute shy of the time I had mentioned when labor first started. And suddenly there were hands reaching in supporting the baby under water behind me as I sat kneeling in the water, trying to catch my breath. They slowly guided our baby between my legs to the front and helped me lift it out of the water, and then eased me back to sit leaning against the tub. I was dazed, and just sat there cradling and staring at this beautiful little being; a towel was draped over the baby to keep it warm and Jeanne noticed the cord was a little short so she made sure I held the baby’s face up and out of the water without pulling on the placenta. The baby’s heartbeat was checked, and we lifted the towel so Mark could announce… “It’s a girl!” I was elated! What a beautiful and empowering experience for me, and a safe and healthy way for our little girl to enter the world: in the comfort of our own home, with the support of a team we love.
And just as I had hoped when labor began, Claire woke up a few minutes later so Mark brought her in to meet her new sibling. Perfect timing! She was still a little sleepy and seemed confused by the crowd of people and the new baby in Mama’s arms, but she came right over to inspect her sibling. I couldn’t say much, but I kept thinking, “I have two daughters…we’re a family of four now!”
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Things I won't miss
I love being pregnant, don't get me wrong. I fully understand and appreciate what a gift this is, and I am especially thankful that I've now had two healthy, 40+ week gestations without any major complications. I love these maternal curves, how food tastes better than ever during the 2nd trimester, feeling the baby kicks and twirls, and dreaming about what the future holds with this new family member.
I love it so much that I know I will miss being pregnant after the baby is born, like I did with Claire, even though I will be incredibly happy to have him/her in my arms. So, as a reminder for my future self, here are the things I will NOT miss about being pregnant. I want to look back on pregnancy with positive memories, but I don't want to waste energy on missing it...I think this will help. Here's what I won't miss:
I love it so much that I know I will miss being pregnant after the baby is born, like I did with Claire, even though I will be incredibly happy to have him/her in my arms. So, as a reminder for my future self, here are the things I will NOT miss about being pregnant. I want to look back on pregnancy with positive memories, but I don't want to waste energy on missing it...I think this will help. Here's what I won't miss:
- The frustration of dropping something, or needing to bend down to pick something up; the fact that I wonder, "do I really need this item? Is there anything else I can do while I'm down there? Maybe Claire could hand it to me, instead."
- Becoming breathless from simply walking across a room, let alone walking up the stairs. It takes forever to get things done!
- Not being able to lift or carry large or heavy items. Strong nesting urges paired with the inability to move furniture or haul large boxes of unwanted items to the curb or the Goodwill can really cramp a mama's style.
- Getting heartburn from a few sips of water, especially when I still want to eat a meal!
- Outgrowing some of my maternity clothes. I refuse to buy more when I only have a few weeks left, so I've just dealt with a limited wardrobe (including a really nerdy Spice Girls tshirt I got as a joke in high school. Not to be outdone, Mark strutted out of the closet one day wearing a Boys II Men concert tshirt...which he actually got at a concert.)
- Wishing we had access to a crane or bulldozer that would make rolling over or getting out of bed easier tasks.
- Not being able to fully hug Mark and Claire (or anybody else, for that matter).
- Moving "wrong" and feeling my hips shift unpleasantly out of alignment. When I feel and hear that distinct *snap!* on either side of my spine I know I'm in for it. These hormones have really loosened my joints up, which is good for the delivery but not so good for anything else. I've also read that the hormone relaxin may somehow be related to Fibromyalgia, which would explain the flares I've had during obvious hormone surges. It's no fun when every cell in your body aches! Thank goodness it's temporary, and hasn't happened often throughout this pregnancy.
- Speaking of hormones, the way I cry when I watch birth videos. I try so hard to maintain composure, but my eyes always spill over when the baby is born and I see the look of joy on the mom's face. Oh, wait, that happens even when I'm not pregnant!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Hypocrite
I never wanted to be one of those parents who operate with the "Do as I say, not as I do" philosophy, but tonight turned out to be one of those instances.
Earlier this evening Claire was coloring in a notebook with markers at her little table while Mark and I were sitting at the big kitchen table talking. I looked over to check on her - she had been awfully quiet for a while - and noticed that she was busily coloring both of her arms and hands with the green marker. Not wanting Mark to miss out on the scene, I stifled a laugh and motioned for him to turn that way. They're washable markers so we weren't terribly concerned, but the line needs to be drawn somewhere; when she starts drawing on herself, the walls and furniture are next on her list. She seemed to be concentrating pretty hard on one of her wrists, so I quietly snuck over with the camera to take a video and was promptly busted. After checking out her arm art I reminded her that markers are for paper only, not for drawing on ourselves. She responded by coloring baby's nose green, and then doodling on her chair and the windowsill. Toddlers and self control...
Despite her protests and attempts to mark up other areas of the house, Mark and I ended up putting her markers away with a reminder that we don't draw on ourselves or the furniture, which induced a minor tantrum of sorts in Claire. Her face wrinkled in agony that only a frustrated 2 year old knows, she walked over to the pantry door and threw Baby inside as hard as she could before slamming the door shut. Then, of course, she realized that she wanted Baby back so she started banging on the door, sobbing "Baby! Baby!" Poor kiddo...such big emotions. So we retrieved Baby and she fell into my arms to finish unloading, and soon all was well again. The markers safely tucked away in an upper cupboard, Claire went about the rest of the evening with the message that we don't color on anything but paper.
Fast forward a few hours. I had forgotten during the marker episode that I had somebody coming over tonight, somebody I had hired to color on my skin. A local artist was coming over to do pregnancy henna on my belly. The timing seemed like it was going to work out well: Mark and Claire usually go upstairs around 6:30 to start the bedtime routine (brushing teeth, pajamas, reading books) and Victoria was planning to arrive shortly after that because it was the only time that worked for both of our busy schedules. Unintentionally at first, I figured Claire wouldn't see her or know that she had even been here - and now that the marker incident had occurred, it seemed better that she wasn't going to witness the hypocrisy firsthand. That was the plan, at least.
Long story short, Claire didn't fall asleep right away and ended up coming downstairs (a rare occurrence these days), and saw the lady drawing on Mama's belly just a few hours after Mama had told her that we don't draw on ourselves. I felt like such a hypocrite! But Claire was unphased, and took great interest in the process so we let her stay up a few hours later than usual.
If only I'd known what a fun and relaxing process this is, I'd have done it during Claire's pregnancy, too. I feel so pretty and pampered! And it's so enjoyable for the mom that babies love it, too; our little guy or gal spent most of the time stretching and rolling with big, sweeping motions. Victoria did a beautiful job, and we had so much fun chatting. I can't wait to take some portraits this weekend when the henna will be at it's darkest. We don't have many belly shots yet, and this finished product is gorgeous...what a fun way to celebrate this pregnancy and the largeness of my belly :)
These pictures were taken about halfway through...the finished design is amazing. I plan to post better pictures this weekend :)
While we waited for my belly art to dry, Victoria even did a little henna heart on Claire's hand, and then she applied magenta glitter - so cute! Claire was really good about holding it out to keep from smearing it...for about 5 minutes. Then she abruptly wiped it off. Notice the leftover green marks from the incident earlier in the evening. ("Hypocrite! Hypocrite!") Mark had a hard time getting a clear picture because she was wiggling and dancing around in excitement. I think she'll still have a faint heart on her hand tomorrow, since it stayed on for at least a few minutes, so I'll try to get a good picture.
So I foresee two possible things resulting from tonight:
1. Claire may be even more inspired to draw on herself now, and who can blame her? I'll laugh if she starts drawing on her belly.
2. Claire will NEVER want to go to bed again, thinking we have parties like this every night after she goes upstairs.
These next few nights should be interesting...
Earlier this evening Claire was coloring in a notebook with markers at her little table while Mark and I were sitting at the big kitchen table talking. I looked over to check on her - she had been awfully quiet for a while - and noticed that she was busily coloring both of her arms and hands with the green marker. Not wanting Mark to miss out on the scene, I stifled a laugh and motioned for him to turn that way. They're washable markers so we weren't terribly concerned, but the line needs to be drawn somewhere; when she starts drawing on herself, the walls and furniture are next on her list. She seemed to be concentrating pretty hard on one of her wrists, so I quietly snuck over with the camera to take a video and was promptly busted. After checking out her arm art I reminded her that markers are for paper only, not for drawing on ourselves. She responded by coloring baby's nose green, and then doodling on her chair and the windowsill. Toddlers and self control...
Despite her protests and attempts to mark up other areas of the house, Mark and I ended up putting her markers away with a reminder that we don't draw on ourselves or the furniture, which induced a minor tantrum of sorts in Claire. Her face wrinkled in agony that only a frustrated 2 year old knows, she walked over to the pantry door and threw Baby inside as hard as she could before slamming the door shut. Then, of course, she realized that she wanted Baby back so she started banging on the door, sobbing "Baby! Baby!" Poor kiddo...such big emotions. So we retrieved Baby and she fell into my arms to finish unloading, and soon all was well again. The markers safely tucked away in an upper cupboard, Claire went about the rest of the evening with the message that we don't color on anything but paper.
Fast forward a few hours. I had forgotten during the marker episode that I had somebody coming over tonight, somebody I had hired to color on my skin. A local artist was coming over to do pregnancy henna on my belly. The timing seemed like it was going to work out well: Mark and Claire usually go upstairs around 6:30 to start the bedtime routine (brushing teeth, pajamas, reading books) and Victoria was planning to arrive shortly after that because it was the only time that worked for both of our busy schedules. Unintentionally at first, I figured Claire wouldn't see her or know that she had even been here - and now that the marker incident had occurred, it seemed better that she wasn't going to witness the hypocrisy firsthand. That was the plan, at least.
Long story short, Claire didn't fall asleep right away and ended up coming downstairs (a rare occurrence these days), and saw the lady drawing on Mama's belly just a few hours after Mama had told her that we don't draw on ourselves. I felt like such a hypocrite! But Claire was unphased, and took great interest in the process so we let her stay up a few hours later than usual.
If only I'd known what a fun and relaxing process this is, I'd have done it during Claire's pregnancy, too. I feel so pretty and pampered! And it's so enjoyable for the mom that babies love it, too; our little guy or gal spent most of the time stretching and rolling with big, sweeping motions. Victoria did a beautiful job, and we had so much fun chatting. I can't wait to take some portraits this weekend when the henna will be at it's darkest. We don't have many belly shots yet, and this finished product is gorgeous...what a fun way to celebrate this pregnancy and the largeness of my belly :)
These pictures were taken about halfway through...the finished design is amazing. I plan to post better pictures this weekend :)
While we waited for my belly art to dry, Victoria even did a little henna heart on Claire's hand, and then she applied magenta glitter - so cute! Claire was really good about holding it out to keep from smearing it...for about 5 minutes. Then she abruptly wiped it off. Notice the leftover green marks from the incident earlier in the evening. ("Hypocrite! Hypocrite!") Mark had a hard time getting a clear picture because she was wiggling and dancing around in excitement. I think she'll still have a faint heart on her hand tomorrow, since it stayed on for at least a few minutes, so I'll try to get a good picture.
So I foresee two possible things resulting from tonight:1. Claire may be even more inspired to draw on herself now, and who can blame her? I'll laugh if she starts drawing on her belly.
2. Claire will NEVER want to go to bed again, thinking we have parties like this every night after she goes upstairs.
These next few nights should be interesting...
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Splish Splash
Big day at the Nelson residence: we set up the birth tub for our planned homebirth!
Claire thought all of the activity was pretty exciting, and spent most of the day joyfully singing and dancing around us as Mark and I prepared the room. Here's Mark finishing up with the air pump - notice his wizard hat...
(Ok, really it's a lampshade that I inadvertently caught at just the right angle, but it looks pretty funny at first glance, doesn't it?)
Taking a moment to inspect the tub, but still singing and dancing
Mark and Claire discussing what the tub is going to be used for, and how exciting it is that we get to meet our new baby pretty soon. Claire says she is excited to snuggle the baby, and to teach it how to juggle and play catch someday.
It's been really fun watching Claire grow over the course of this pregnancy. She's had the benefit of seeing her 4 best friends recently become big brothers and sisters, and she actually seems to understand what's going on. She likes to kiss and rub my belly, talk about what we'll do when the baby arrives, and she's become even more motherly with Baby, her little doll. She carries Baby around most of the day, cradling, kissing, swaddling, snuggling, and otherwise including her. When we read books together, Baby is always cozied up right there with us; when we color at Claire's little table, Baby is carefully tucked in Claire's lap (usually nursing.) She gets equally excited about seeing her friends and their new infant siblings, and it makes her day when she gets to hold a real baby on her lap. She likes to lean in and give the baby a gentle kiss on the temple or cheek, and always looks concerned if they grimace or cry. "It's ok, baby!" she says with a soft voice and a compassionate look.
I've also enjoyed watching Mark grow as a father. He's always been a wonderful dad, but as parents our job description changed dramatically as Claire graduated from baby to toddler; it was no longer just about loving Claire and meeting her needs, but also about considering her point of view and learning how to talk with and listen to her. Communication feels more like a two-way street with her now, which is wonderful and rewarding but it also brings new challenges.
I love when I'm given the chance to listen in on their conversations, whether it's about becoming a big sister or how to make toast and coffee. He's so patient and kind, always taking time to explain things to her in terms that she'll understand and involving her as often as possible (it's her job to push the bread down in the toaster, and to scoop the coffee into the coffeemaker...Mark sips his sometimes-gritty coffee with a smile and thanks her for her help.) Mark reminds me of my own dad: strong, caring, respectful, patient, fun. Dads like this don't consider spending time with their kids a chore, or as "babysitting," but as something to cherish and make the most of. They see the opportunities for fun and laughter, and understand that they are shaping a human life. As someone who grew up with an awesome dad like that, I know what a positive impact that has on a person for life. Those seemingly minor moments, those little chats and impromptu games with balls and balloons, mean so much.
That last picture of Mark and Claire chatting captures the dynamic of their relationship so well. I see moments like this between them all the time, and I'm so happy to have caught one on film (er, a memory card).
Claire thought all of the activity was pretty exciting, and spent most of the day joyfully singing and dancing around us as Mark and I prepared the room. Here's Mark finishing up with the air pump - notice his wizard hat...
(Ok, really it's a lampshade that I inadvertently caught at just the right angle, but it looks pretty funny at first glance, doesn't it?)Taking a moment to inspect the tub, but still singing and dancing
Mark and Claire discussing what the tub is going to be used for, and how exciting it is that we get to meet our new baby pretty soon. Claire says she is excited to snuggle the baby, and to teach it how to juggle and play catch someday.
It's been really fun watching Claire grow over the course of this pregnancy. She's had the benefit of seeing her 4 best friends recently become big brothers and sisters, and she actually seems to understand what's going on. She likes to kiss and rub my belly, talk about what we'll do when the baby arrives, and she's become even more motherly with Baby, her little doll. She carries Baby around most of the day, cradling, kissing, swaddling, snuggling, and otherwise including her. When we read books together, Baby is always cozied up right there with us; when we color at Claire's little table, Baby is carefully tucked in Claire's lap (usually nursing.) She gets equally excited about seeing her friends and their new infant siblings, and it makes her day when she gets to hold a real baby on her lap. She likes to lean in and give the baby a gentle kiss on the temple or cheek, and always looks concerned if they grimace or cry. "It's ok, baby!" she says with a soft voice and a compassionate look.I've also enjoyed watching Mark grow as a father. He's always been a wonderful dad, but as parents our job description changed dramatically as Claire graduated from baby to toddler; it was no longer just about loving Claire and meeting her needs, but also about considering her point of view and learning how to talk with and listen to her. Communication feels more like a two-way street with her now, which is wonderful and rewarding but it also brings new challenges.
I love when I'm given the chance to listen in on their conversations, whether it's about becoming a big sister or how to make toast and coffee. He's so patient and kind, always taking time to explain things to her in terms that she'll understand and involving her as often as possible (it's her job to push the bread down in the toaster, and to scoop the coffee into the coffeemaker...Mark sips his sometimes-gritty coffee with a smile and thanks her for her help.) Mark reminds me of my own dad: strong, caring, respectful, patient, fun. Dads like this don't consider spending time with their kids a chore, or as "babysitting," but as something to cherish and make the most of. They see the opportunities for fun and laughter, and understand that they are shaping a human life. As someone who grew up with an awesome dad like that, I know what a positive impact that has on a person for life. Those seemingly minor moments, those little chats and impromptu games with balls and balloons, mean so much.
That last picture of Mark and Claire chatting captures the dynamic of their relationship so well. I see moments like this between them all the time, and I'm so happy to have caught one on film (er, a memory card).
Monday, February 15, 2010
Babies were born to breastfeed
After a great appointment with my midwives this afternoon, I have babies and birth and breastfeeding on the brain (although none of these topics are ever really far from my mind, considering my line of work and the fact that I'm a pregnant mom who loves babies). It won't be long before our newest addition joins the family, and I will once again be a nursing mother. Claire weaned at 23 months, so one might think I feel pretty confident that things will be extremely easy since I've already been there, done that. I'm not sure if my post-birth complications had anything to do with it, or if things would have been difficult anyway, but it was kind of a rocky start when Claire was born. And even though I've done this before, our new baby hasn't - it will be a completely new partnership, one that may take some time to master. Here is what kept me motivated to work through each and every challenge the first time around:
Breastfeeding is linked to a lower risk of these problems in infants:
And for the moms...
These bullet points alone are worth trudging through a difficult beginning, but this is just a scratch in the surface of benefits (and I should add that breastfeeding is not always challenging - many moms and babies pick it up right away with no problem!) One of the coolest things about breast milk, in my opinion, is that it is constantly changing. Immediately after the birth a mother will have colostrum, appropriately referred to as "liquid gold." Just a few nutrient-dense drops fill the baby's marble-sized stomach with the exact nutrition and antibodies he needs; about 4 days later the mother's milk comes in, and again it's made up of the exact nutritional requirements for this stage of life. As the baby grows, the milk evolves; the milk of a mother breastfeeding an infant is different than that of a mother breastfeeding a toddler. The baby is also benefiting from the varied tastes he is being exposed to through the milk - the flavor will change depending on what the mother eats. So not only is it tailor made to suit the needs of the growing child, but it sets the baby up for expecting - and enjoying - a wide variety of foods in the future. Formula, on the other hand, stays the same from feeding to feeding, and doesn't change weekly or monthly to account for the baby's changing needs. It only changes when you switch from an infant formula to a toddler formula. Another cool benefit? The milk also changes with the environment - if the mother is exposed to a certain virus, she will develop antibodies for it and pass them on to the baby. Could it get any better than that?
The economical benefits can't be denied, either. Formula is expensive, even with the millions of samples and coupons you'll be swimming in as a pregnant woman. I supplemented with formula for a few weeks after my 2 week postpartum hemorrhage and the surgery that followed - in a way, it's really cool that the body knows when there is a piece of foreign matter in the uterus (a retained portion of the placenta, in this case) so it tries to flush it out by bleeding profusely. It wasn't so cool that this also resulted in my milk taking longer to come in (and that it almost killed me.) I continued breastfeeding to maintain my supply - it's all about supply and demand with breast milk - and even though we were only supplementing about 50% of the feedings, it was still a very expensive 3 weeks. According to these calculations from 2005 formula costs anywhere between $714 and $3163 in the first year of life. And these calculations are 5 years old! Think of what you could do with that much money...
I bought a top of the line breast pump for about $300 while I was pregnant because I had planned on returning to work, and although a little on the unnecessary side, it was nice to have sometimes; I also bought a few boxes of breast pads at the beginning for about $10 a box. We spent well under $50 on bottles and milk storage containers. I still have and could reuse all of these items (except for most of the breast pads, which were disposable) for our future kids, so the savings grow as the family does. And truly, you can get by without any of this. Breastfeeding can be free. There are also inexpensive pumps and reusable breast pads that fit somewhere in between the two extremes.
Convenience is another factor. Breast milk is ready to go whenever and wherever the mom and baby are. I've breastfed Claire in the car (parked, sitting in the backseat), on airplanes, out in the woods, in museums, at parks, and a variety of other places. There's no need to measure, mix with water, heat, or wash bottles. Baby + breast = the ability to feed your baby all day long without toting any junk around. Washing bottles was a huge pain - heck, finding bottles was a nightmare! We went through 5 different brands before we found one that worked. Some nipple designs gave Claire gas, some she just refused to drink from. We were lucky that we didn't have the same issues with formula...many people go through the agonizing process of having to try half a dozen different types and brands. Talk about expensive and frustrating!
Breastfeeding also benefits society. Breastfeeding saves on health care costs. Total medical care costs for the nation are lower for fully breastfed infants than never-breastfed infants since breastfed infants typically need fewer sick care visits, prescriptions, and hospitalizations. Breastfeeding contributes to a more productive workforce. Breastfeeding mothers miss less work, as their infants are sick less often. Employer medical costs also are lower and employee productivity is higher. Breastfeeding is better for our environment because there is less trash and plastic waste compared to that produced by formula cans and bottle supplies. The U.S. Surgeon General recommends that babies be fed with breast milk only for the first six months of life. This means not giving your baby any other food or drink — not even water — during this time. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for at least 1 year, if not longer; the World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for at least 2 years, if not longer.
Some lesser known benefits include the fact that breastfeeding requires a mother to take some quiet relaxed time for herself and her baby, helping them bond. Physical contact is important to newborns and can help them feel more secure, warm, and comforted. Breastfeeding mothers may have increased self-confidence and feelings of closeness and bonding with their infants.
I was fortunate enough to have read about all of these benefits during my pregnancy, so when Claire was born there was no question in my mind how I would feed her. These benefits kept me motivated during those difficult feedings when it was easy to think that switching to formula might make life easier. Life with a newborn is never easy, but I have found that breastfeeding made things less complicated than they would have been formula feeding full time. My hope is that these facts will soon become common knowledge, so that when women become pregnant they won't even consider the question, "how should I feed my baby?" Babies were born to breastfeed, and this should be the first choice.
Breastfeeding is linked to a lower risk of these problems in infants:
- Ear infections
- Stomach viruses
- Diarrhea
- Respiratory infections
- Atopic dermatitis
- Asthma
- Obesity
- Type 1 and 2 diabetes
- Childhood leukemia
- SIDS
- Necrotizing entercolitis
And for the moms...
- Type 2 diabetes
- Breast cancer
- Ovarian cancer
- Postpartum depression
These bullet points alone are worth trudging through a difficult beginning, but this is just a scratch in the surface of benefits (and I should add that breastfeeding is not always challenging - many moms and babies pick it up right away with no problem!) One of the coolest things about breast milk, in my opinion, is that it is constantly changing. Immediately after the birth a mother will have colostrum, appropriately referred to as "liquid gold." Just a few nutrient-dense drops fill the baby's marble-sized stomach with the exact nutrition and antibodies he needs; about 4 days later the mother's milk comes in, and again it's made up of the exact nutritional requirements for this stage of life. As the baby grows, the milk evolves; the milk of a mother breastfeeding an infant is different than that of a mother breastfeeding a toddler. The baby is also benefiting from the varied tastes he is being exposed to through the milk - the flavor will change depending on what the mother eats. So not only is it tailor made to suit the needs of the growing child, but it sets the baby up for expecting - and enjoying - a wide variety of foods in the future. Formula, on the other hand, stays the same from feeding to feeding, and doesn't change weekly or monthly to account for the baby's changing needs. It only changes when you switch from an infant formula to a toddler formula. Another cool benefit? The milk also changes with the environment - if the mother is exposed to a certain virus, she will develop antibodies for it and pass them on to the baby. Could it get any better than that?
The economical benefits can't be denied, either. Formula is expensive, even with the millions of samples and coupons you'll be swimming in as a pregnant woman. I supplemented with formula for a few weeks after my 2 week postpartum hemorrhage and the surgery that followed - in a way, it's really cool that the body knows when there is a piece of foreign matter in the uterus (a retained portion of the placenta, in this case) so it tries to flush it out by bleeding profusely. It wasn't so cool that this also resulted in my milk taking longer to come in (and that it almost killed me.) I continued breastfeeding to maintain my supply - it's all about supply and demand with breast milk - and even though we were only supplementing about 50% of the feedings, it was still a very expensive 3 weeks. According to these calculations from 2005 formula costs anywhere between $714 and $3163 in the first year of life. And these calculations are 5 years old! Think of what you could do with that much money...
I bought a top of the line breast pump for about $300 while I was pregnant because I had planned on returning to work, and although a little on the unnecessary side, it was nice to have sometimes; I also bought a few boxes of breast pads at the beginning for about $10 a box. We spent well under $50 on bottles and milk storage containers. I still have and could reuse all of these items (except for most of the breast pads, which were disposable) for our future kids, so the savings grow as the family does. And truly, you can get by without any of this. Breastfeeding can be free. There are also inexpensive pumps and reusable breast pads that fit somewhere in between the two extremes.
Convenience is another factor. Breast milk is ready to go whenever and wherever the mom and baby are. I've breastfed Claire in the car (parked, sitting in the backseat), on airplanes, out in the woods, in museums, at parks, and a variety of other places. There's no need to measure, mix with water, heat, or wash bottles. Baby + breast = the ability to feed your baby all day long without toting any junk around. Washing bottles was a huge pain - heck, finding bottles was a nightmare! We went through 5 different brands before we found one that worked. Some nipple designs gave Claire gas, some she just refused to drink from. We were lucky that we didn't have the same issues with formula...many people go through the agonizing process of having to try half a dozen different types and brands. Talk about expensive and frustrating!
Breastfeeding also benefits society. Breastfeeding saves on health care costs. Total medical care costs for the nation are lower for fully breastfed infants than never-breastfed infants since breastfed infants typically need fewer sick care visits, prescriptions, and hospitalizations. Breastfeeding contributes to a more productive workforce. Breastfeeding mothers miss less work, as their infants are sick less often. Employer medical costs also are lower and employee productivity is higher. Breastfeeding is better for our environment because there is less trash and plastic waste compared to that produced by formula cans and bottle supplies. The U.S. Surgeon General recommends that babies be fed with breast milk only for the first six months of life. This means not giving your baby any other food or drink — not even water — during this time. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for at least 1 year, if not longer; the World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for at least 2 years, if not longer.
Some lesser known benefits include the fact that breastfeeding requires a mother to take some quiet relaxed time for herself and her baby, helping them bond. Physical contact is important to newborns and can help them feel more secure, warm, and comforted. Breastfeeding mothers may have increased self-confidence and feelings of closeness and bonding with their infants.
I was fortunate enough to have read about all of these benefits during my pregnancy, so when Claire was born there was no question in my mind how I would feed her. These benefits kept me motivated during those difficult feedings when it was easy to think that switching to formula might make life easier. Life with a newborn is never easy, but I have found that breastfeeding made things less complicated than they would have been formula feeding full time. My hope is that these facts will soon become common knowledge, so that when women become pregnant they won't even consider the question, "how should I feed my baby?" Babies were born to breastfeed, and this should be the first choice.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Our "risky" decision
I just got a call from a midwife at the clinic I went to throughout my pregnancy with Claire, which is the same clinic I went to for routine bloodwork at the beginning of this current pregnancy. She was calling because I haven't been back in almost 20 weeks.
After reassuring her that I was, in fact, receiving care somewhere else, there was a pause. "I'm actually planning a homebirth," I offered, not quite knowing what to expect from this hospital midwife who I knew nothing about. I am confident and completely at ease with my decision to avoid the hospital, but I have found that many people who hear our plan don't know the facts. These people have reactions ranging anywhere from a blank stare to downright horror written across their face. Some of them qualify their reaction with a self-deprecating statement like, "I'm too chicken," while the expression on their face tells me that they think my decision is anything but brave, they think it's unequivocally risky behavior. Others like to dive into the perceived dangers of this decision that they see as impulsive and irresponsible: "But you won't have a board-certified doctor in the room with you! What if you need to have an emergency c-section? What if you need drugs or equipment?"
I don't expect everybody I come into contact with to know the current statistics and common practices in childbirth, but I am alarmed by just how few are aware of the current state of affairs. First and foremost, studies show that planned homebirths with a skilled attendant have outcomes as good as or better than hospital births. The most recent study was published in the September 15, 2009, issue of the Canadian Medical Association Journal and found that women who planned homebirths had lower rates of interventions and adverse maternal outcomes than women who planned hospital births, whether the latter were attended by a midwife or a doctor. Women birthing at home were less likely to experience electronic fetal monitoring, cesarean sections, episiotomies, augmentation of labor with oxytocin or amniotomy, the use of drugs during labor, and other interventions. In addition, mothers who had a planned homebirth had far fewer tears or postpartum hemorrhage, and newborns born at home had fewer incidents of birth trauma, need for resuscitation at birth, or need for oxygen therapy beyond 24 hours. And this study, conducted in North America in 2000, was published in the British Medical Journal and echoes the results published in CMAJ.
As a low-risk woman, this planned homebirth is a safe and responsible choice. These two studies look at the risks of not going to the hospital, but what about the known risks of going? Hospital-acquired infection (MRSA, anyone? Staph? H1N1? The hospital is, after all, where sick people go), routine interventions (which surprisingly few parents and parents-to-be know the risks of), iatrogenic (doctor-caused) complications (my situation after Claire's birth would fall into this category, but that's a whole separate post.)
To address the commonly expressed fears I mentioned above: I am in the care of two wonderful midwives, one who has 30 years of professional experience under her belt, and they are doing a great job of helping me to stay healthy and low-risk. They are also trained to recognize problems that could arise, and know what to do and when to do it - and yes, that may mean a hospital transfer (although the incidence is incredibly low.) The time it would take to transfer me to the hospital in the event of an emergency requiring a cesarean is about the same amount of time it would take to prep the OR and transfer me within the hospital, so it's a wash; at home I have the added benefit of avoiding the "cascade of interventions" that usually leads to a cesarean and has contributed to the inflated cesarean rates (according to the World Health Organization, a healthy maximum for an industrialized country like the US is 15%...some hospitals in the Twin Cities are more than double that, all but one are significantly higher.) I am not comfortable with the risks of drugs or equipment in most cases, so I am doing what I can to avoid them again. My midwives do bring some along in case of emergency, and are equiped to handle such things as a postpartum hemorrhage. I had a beautiful labor and delivery with Claire, having done most of the work at home (I showed up at the hospital fully dilated and ready to push.) The problems began when the hospital staff interfered with the natural process that I had been doing just fine with all along, and their actions ultimately resulted in my need for surgery. I prefer my odds with my current homebirth team, a team who trusts birth, respects my body, and uses their equipment only when necessary.
Homebirth is not for everyone. A woman has to give birth where she is most comfortable, and some women just aren't comfortable birthing at home (whether it's because she wants to "be near medical equipment", her house is messy and reminds her of her to-do list, or she just doesn't have enough space). Homebirth is also not for women with certain risk factors, and for these situations I'm thankful we have hospitals and trained medical staff to treat these women and their babies. I am not anti-hospital or anti-doctor. I have seen, in my own experiences and through the experiences of many others, that medical intervention in most low-risk situations is unnecessary at best, and can actually cause harm...and for some reason this high rate of intervention has become the norm, so people have come to believe that it's unavoidable. The famous obstetrician Dr. Robert Bradley compared childbirth to swimming, the doctor is the lifeguard. "Both swimming and birthing carry an irreducible minimal risk, and lifeguards and doctors are necessary, but only for complications. Good swimmers and good birthers need them to be present, but just in case problems arise." Unfortunately, people have come to think that a doctor or midwife isn't doing her job unless she is intervening with the natural process even when the mother is "swimming" along just fine.
So back to this hospital nurse who had called, and who I volunteered the homebirth info to. She blew me away with her response, a heartfelt-sounding, "Oh, that is wonderful! All babies should be so lucky to be born at home. Best wishes to you!" How nice to find support from an unlikely source, especially when support is so scarce to begin with! And while I'm on the topic of support, I'd like to send a huge THANK YOU to Mark, my parents, siblings, and friends who either actively support this decision or at least care enough to want to learn more. I feel the love, and it is very much appreciated :)
After reassuring her that I was, in fact, receiving care somewhere else, there was a pause. "I'm actually planning a homebirth," I offered, not quite knowing what to expect from this hospital midwife who I knew nothing about. I am confident and completely at ease with my decision to avoid the hospital, but I have found that many people who hear our plan don't know the facts. These people have reactions ranging anywhere from a blank stare to downright horror written across their face. Some of them qualify their reaction with a self-deprecating statement like, "I'm too chicken," while the expression on their face tells me that they think my decision is anything but brave, they think it's unequivocally risky behavior. Others like to dive into the perceived dangers of this decision that they see as impulsive and irresponsible: "But you won't have a board-certified doctor in the room with you! What if you need to have an emergency c-section? What if you need drugs or equipment?"
I don't expect everybody I come into contact with to know the current statistics and common practices in childbirth, but I am alarmed by just how few are aware of the current state of affairs. First and foremost, studies show that planned homebirths with a skilled attendant have outcomes as good as or better than hospital births. The most recent study was published in the September 15, 2009, issue of the Canadian Medical Association Journal and found that women who planned homebirths had lower rates of interventions and adverse maternal outcomes than women who planned hospital births, whether the latter were attended by a midwife or a doctor. Women birthing at home were less likely to experience electronic fetal monitoring, cesarean sections, episiotomies, augmentation of labor with oxytocin or amniotomy, the use of drugs during labor, and other interventions. In addition, mothers who had a planned homebirth had far fewer tears or postpartum hemorrhage, and newborns born at home had fewer incidents of birth trauma, need for resuscitation at birth, or need for oxygen therapy beyond 24 hours. And this study, conducted in North America in 2000, was published in the British Medical Journal and echoes the results published in CMAJ.
As a low-risk woman, this planned homebirth is a safe and responsible choice. These two studies look at the risks of not going to the hospital, but what about the known risks of going? Hospital-acquired infection (MRSA, anyone? Staph? H1N1? The hospital is, after all, where sick people go), routine interventions (which surprisingly few parents and parents-to-be know the risks of), iatrogenic (doctor-caused) complications (my situation after Claire's birth would fall into this category, but that's a whole separate post.)
To address the commonly expressed fears I mentioned above: I am in the care of two wonderful midwives, one who has 30 years of professional experience under her belt, and they are doing a great job of helping me to stay healthy and low-risk. They are also trained to recognize problems that could arise, and know what to do and when to do it - and yes, that may mean a hospital transfer (although the incidence is incredibly low.) The time it would take to transfer me to the hospital in the event of an emergency requiring a cesarean is about the same amount of time it would take to prep the OR and transfer me within the hospital, so it's a wash; at home I have the added benefit of avoiding the "cascade of interventions" that usually leads to a cesarean and has contributed to the inflated cesarean rates (according to the World Health Organization, a healthy maximum for an industrialized country like the US is 15%...some hospitals in the Twin Cities are more than double that, all but one are significantly higher.) I am not comfortable with the risks of drugs or equipment in most cases, so I am doing what I can to avoid them again. My midwives do bring some along in case of emergency, and are equiped to handle such things as a postpartum hemorrhage. I had a beautiful labor and delivery with Claire, having done most of the work at home (I showed up at the hospital fully dilated and ready to push.) The problems began when the hospital staff interfered with the natural process that I had been doing just fine with all along, and their actions ultimately resulted in my need for surgery. I prefer my odds with my current homebirth team, a team who trusts birth, respects my body, and uses their equipment only when necessary.
Homebirth is not for everyone. A woman has to give birth where she is most comfortable, and some women just aren't comfortable birthing at home (whether it's because she wants to "be near medical equipment", her house is messy and reminds her of her to-do list, or she just doesn't have enough space). Homebirth is also not for women with certain risk factors, and for these situations I'm thankful we have hospitals and trained medical staff to treat these women and their babies. I am not anti-hospital or anti-doctor. I have seen, in my own experiences and through the experiences of many others, that medical intervention in most low-risk situations is unnecessary at best, and can actually cause harm...and for some reason this high rate of intervention has become the norm, so people have come to believe that it's unavoidable. The famous obstetrician Dr. Robert Bradley compared childbirth to swimming, the doctor is the lifeguard. "Both swimming and birthing carry an irreducible minimal risk, and lifeguards and doctors are necessary, but only for complications. Good swimmers and good birthers need them to be present, but just in case problems arise." Unfortunately, people have come to think that a doctor or midwife isn't doing her job unless she is intervening with the natural process even when the mother is "swimming" along just fine.
So back to this hospital nurse who had called, and who I volunteered the homebirth info to. She blew me away with her response, a heartfelt-sounding, "Oh, that is wonderful! All babies should be so lucky to be born at home. Best wishes to you!" How nice to find support from an unlikely source, especially when support is so scarce to begin with! And while I'm on the topic of support, I'd like to send a huge THANK YOU to Mark, my parents, siblings, and friends who either actively support this decision or at least care enough to want to learn more. I feel the love, and it is very much appreciated :)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Claire's Birth Story
I quickly threw this together a few days after Claire was born so I could send something out to friends and family, and get some of the details down while they were still fresh in my mind...
Thursday, November 8, 2007
I started noticing what I thought was early labor around dinnertime, but it was more of an annoyance than actual pain. I remembered my mom telling me that she had no idea she was in labor with my brother until she went to a checkup and the doctor told her she was 5 centimeters dilated; she just had a sore back and she thought it was from moving furniture earlier that day. That’s exactly how mine felt: achy as if I had been moving furniture (which I hadn’t been.) By the time Mark got home from school around 9pm, I was already asleep because it had gotten a little worse and I wanted to rest up in case I really was in labor.
Friday, November 9, 2007
I woke up a few minutes after midnight because my backache was starting to radiate to my lower abdomen. It seemed to come and go every 15 minutes or so, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up quite yet – it almost seemed too good to be true, considering her revised due date was October 28th and we felt as if we had been waiting forever. I waited an hour or so before waking Mark, just to be sure.
By 3:00 am Mark and I were both up and moving around. I was picking up the house between contractions so it would be organized when we came home, and Mark was taking care of some loose ends at work on his computer. It was really exciting knowing we would have Claire very soon! The contractions were getting strong enough that I had to stop what I was doing, but using the techniques we learned in our Bradley childbirth classes got me through them just fine. Our plan was to stay at home to labor as long as possible, so I kept myself busy as long as I could. By 6 am, about 12 hours after I initially noticed the backache, I could no longer do anything but concentrate on laboring; we dropped what we were doing and Mark helped me get through them. Time was moving a lot faster than I imagined it would.
A little before 9 am I was sitting on the couch, breathing deeply and trying to stay relaxed during contractions, which were now a few minutes apart. Until then, the contractions had been hard work to get through but I still felt in control. Suddenly they were so strong and close together that for a moment I wasn’t sure I could do it anymore. And that’s when I knew it was time to go to the hospital – we had learned in our classes that I would make it to this point, and that meant the end was very near. Then I knew I could do it!
The drive to the hospital was pretty uncomfortable – it was only about 15 minutes, but was driven on a very bumpy road. It was difficult to stay relaxed around the turns and over the bumps, but Mark had wrapped a down blanket around me and I kept my eyes closed the whole time to help me focus. I didn’t open them until Mark rolled up to my door with a wheelchair, and I noticed that it was snowing lightly.
When the midwife checked me upon our arrival around 9:00 she announced that I was fully dilated and ready to push. I was so shocked! It had taken a lot of hard work and concentration to make it that far, but it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. We had planned on having a water birth, so they took me straight to the tub and I pushed for 2+ hours. I didn’t feel like we were making any progress and I was getting really tired so I got out and allowed the midwife to break my water to see if that would speed things up. We were scared to see that the amniotic fluid was stained with meconium (Claire had passed her first bowel movement in the womb, which can be very dangerous.) I was terrified that Claire may have aspirated the meconium, which could mean very serious lung problems. The midwife let me get back in the birthing tub to labor a while longer, but told me that we were no longer eligible to deliver in the water.
The fear that Claire was in danger put me into overdrive, and to the surprise of everybody (including myself!) Claire was born not even 5 minutes later. In the water. Oops! She was placed on my belly and let out a few hearty cries, and we knew she was ok (which was confirmed by Apgar scores of 8 and 9). Mark and I were so relieved! And it was love at first sight.
I was so happy to have made it through the birth drug-free as planned, but shortly afterwards I started hemorrhaging and they had to give me an IV with several drugs to try and stop it. I ended up losing over 1,000 CCs of blood, but the joy of sharing Claire’s beautiful birth with Mark seemed to override the fear and pain of the complications. Lunch was brought in after they took care of me, and I realized how starving I was. That had to be one of the best meals of my life!
We spent the rest of the day in kind of a blur, getting to know Claire and enjoying the calm after our hard work. The next day, our midwife said that my hemoglobin had dropped dangerously low (from 14 during pregnancy to 7 after the birth; normal range is 12-15). If I didn’t show any improvement I was going to need a blood transfusion. Thankfully I was up and walking around the following day so they let us go home with strict orders: lots of iron, protein, and calcium, along with a chlorophyll supplement. It will take a while to get back to normal levels but I’m feeling better each day, and Mark and our families – and especially Claire – are keeping me in excellent spirits. We are so happy to finally have Claire in our arms!
**Many of my friends and family were surprised to learn that we were planning a waterbirth, and wondered if it was safe. In fact, it is very safe. The baby receives oxygen through the umbilical cord via the placenta; the water is kept at body temperature, so it is a very smooth transition for the baby from the womb to the water. It is the cold, dry air that causes the baby to take the first breath, so there is no danger of the baby inhaling water – it’s no different than the amniotic fluid already in the lungs. There are many benefits to waterbirth, including reduction of pain (it’s called the “aqua-dural” for that reason), greater mobility that comes with buoyancy, greater relaxation, reduced abdominal pressure, and a gentle entrance into the world for the baby, among others.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
I started noticing what I thought was early labor around dinnertime, but it was more of an annoyance than actual pain. I remembered my mom telling me that she had no idea she was in labor with my brother until she went to a checkup and the doctor told her she was 5 centimeters dilated; she just had a sore back and she thought it was from moving furniture earlier that day. That’s exactly how mine felt: achy as if I had been moving furniture (which I hadn’t been.) By the time Mark got home from school around 9pm, I was already asleep because it had gotten a little worse and I wanted to rest up in case I really was in labor.
Friday, November 9, 2007
I woke up a few minutes after midnight because my backache was starting to radiate to my lower abdomen. It seemed to come and go every 15 minutes or so, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up quite yet – it almost seemed too good to be true, considering her revised due date was October 28th and we felt as if we had been waiting forever. I waited an hour or so before waking Mark, just to be sure.
By 3:00 am Mark and I were both up and moving around. I was picking up the house between contractions so it would be organized when we came home, and Mark was taking care of some loose ends at work on his computer. It was really exciting knowing we would have Claire very soon! The contractions were getting strong enough that I had to stop what I was doing, but using the techniques we learned in our Bradley childbirth classes got me through them just fine. Our plan was to stay at home to labor as long as possible, so I kept myself busy as long as I could. By 6 am, about 12 hours after I initially noticed the backache, I could no longer do anything but concentrate on laboring; we dropped what we were doing and Mark helped me get through them. Time was moving a lot faster than I imagined it would.
A little before 9 am I was sitting on the couch, breathing deeply and trying to stay relaxed during contractions, which were now a few minutes apart. Until then, the contractions had been hard work to get through but I still felt in control. Suddenly they were so strong and close together that for a moment I wasn’t sure I could do it anymore. And that’s when I knew it was time to go to the hospital – we had learned in our classes that I would make it to this point, and that meant the end was very near. Then I knew I could do it!
The drive to the hospital was pretty uncomfortable – it was only about 15 minutes, but was driven on a very bumpy road. It was difficult to stay relaxed around the turns and over the bumps, but Mark had wrapped a down blanket around me and I kept my eyes closed the whole time to help me focus. I didn’t open them until Mark rolled up to my door with a wheelchair, and I noticed that it was snowing lightly.
When the midwife checked me upon our arrival around 9:00 she announced that I was fully dilated and ready to push. I was so shocked! It had taken a lot of hard work and concentration to make it that far, but it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. We had planned on having a water birth, so they took me straight to the tub and I pushed for 2+ hours. I didn’t feel like we were making any progress and I was getting really tired so I got out and allowed the midwife to break my water to see if that would speed things up. We were scared to see that the amniotic fluid was stained with meconium (Claire had passed her first bowel movement in the womb, which can be very dangerous.) I was terrified that Claire may have aspirated the meconium, which could mean very serious lung problems. The midwife let me get back in the birthing tub to labor a while longer, but told me that we were no longer eligible to deliver in the water.
The fear that Claire was in danger put me into overdrive, and to the surprise of everybody (including myself!) Claire was born not even 5 minutes later. In the water. Oops! She was placed on my belly and let out a few hearty cries, and we knew she was ok (which was confirmed by Apgar scores of 8 and 9). Mark and I were so relieved! And it was love at first sight.
I was so happy to have made it through the birth drug-free as planned, but shortly afterwards I started hemorrhaging and they had to give me an IV with several drugs to try and stop it. I ended up losing over 1,000 CCs of blood, but the joy of sharing Claire’s beautiful birth with Mark seemed to override the fear and pain of the complications. Lunch was brought in after they took care of me, and I realized how starving I was. That had to be one of the best meals of my life!
We spent the rest of the day in kind of a blur, getting to know Claire and enjoying the calm after our hard work. The next day, our midwife said that my hemoglobin had dropped dangerously low (from 14 during pregnancy to 7 after the birth; normal range is 12-15). If I didn’t show any improvement I was going to need a blood transfusion. Thankfully I was up and walking around the following day so they let us go home with strict orders: lots of iron, protein, and calcium, along with a chlorophyll supplement. It will take a while to get back to normal levels but I’m feeling better each day, and Mark and our families – and especially Claire – are keeping me in excellent spirits. We are so happy to finally have Claire in our arms!
**Many of my friends and family were surprised to learn that we were planning a waterbirth, and wondered if it was safe. In fact, it is very safe. The baby receives oxygen through the umbilical cord via the placenta; the water is kept at body temperature, so it is a very smooth transition for the baby from the womb to the water. It is the cold, dry air that causes the baby to take the first breath, so there is no danger of the baby inhaling water – it’s no different than the amniotic fluid already in the lungs. There are many benefits to waterbirth, including reduction of pain (it’s called the “aqua-dural” for that reason), greater mobility that comes with buoyancy, greater relaxation, reduced abdominal pressure, and a gentle entrance into the world for the baby, among others.
Friday, May 9, 2008
6 months!
Claire turned 6 months old today! I woke up briefly at 3:00 this morning and thought to myself, "six months ago at this time I was in labor on the couch, completely in my own little world while Mark was installing the carseat so we could go to the hospital..."
Claire is finishing up a nap, so I'm clearing off the memory card on the camera and enjoying "mommy time." And laughing because this morning I dressed her in 12 month pants and an 18 month tshirt. And they fit! She prefers to be called "curvy" rather than "large and in charge." A note to moms-to-be: don't buy too many clothes ahead of time, you never know how big (or small) your baby will be.
Some friends of mine have been telling me about a parenting book by Alfie Kohn, called Unconditional Parenting, so I checked it out from the library. Here's what the book jacket says about it: "Most parent guides begin with the question "How can we get kids to do what they're told?" --and then proceed to offer various techniques for controlling them. In this truly groundbreaking book, nationally respected educator Alfie Kohn begins instead by asking "What do kids need-and how can we meet those needs?" What follows from that question are ideas for working with children rather than doing things to them." I'm looking forward to diving in, just as soon as I get a chance.
Lookslike it won't be now - she just woke up. Gotta run!
Claire is finishing up a nap, so I'm clearing off the memory card on the camera and enjoying "mommy time." And laughing because this morning I dressed her in 12 month pants and an 18 month tshirt. And they fit! She prefers to be called "curvy" rather than "large and in charge." A note to moms-to-be: don't buy too many clothes ahead of time, you never know how big (or small) your baby will be.
Some friends of mine have been telling me about a parenting book by Alfie Kohn, called Unconditional Parenting, so I checked it out from the library. Here's what the book jacket says about it: "Most parent guides begin with the question "How can we get kids to do what they're told?" --and then proceed to offer various techniques for controlling them. In this truly groundbreaking book, nationally respected educator Alfie Kohn begins instead by asking "What do kids need-and how can we meet those needs?" What follows from that question are ideas for working with children rather than doing things to them." I'm looking forward to diving in, just as soon as I get a chance.
Lookslike it won't be now - she just woke up. Gotta run!
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