This is going to be a short post, because there's no reason to go on about something so simple.
I think that, as a white person, I had a very different experience seeing this movie than a person of color would have. It was eye opening. There were several moments that made me think, "My god, is that what it's really like?" And the reaction of those around me (I was in the minority in that theater) answered for me.
I feel more aware. I grew up as one of those who "doesn't see race," but I see it now. In what I hope is the right way. I am in love with what this movie helped me to see. I always knew, but this is different. I am so happy to be raising my children in a world where this movie exists. I want them to understand what it means, and the history, and why they should feel as lucky as I do to have what we have. Life has not always been so kind to our fellow humans, and I want my children to be raised to never forget, but to grow beyond where we came from. I want them to NEVER make the mistakes their ancestors made. And I want them to inherit a world where they cannot fathom why history was what it was, and to never let anything so horrible happen again.
The Black Panther is officially my favorite Marvel character. And the man I consider to be the best in the Marvel universe. Integrity knows no race, but I see his. And it's beautiful. And I will teach my children to see the beauty of this amazing diversity.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Beautiful Differences
My children are all beautiful. They all amaze me every day. I love them completely equally. But as they grow, I find that I love them as individuals, for the unique people they are becoming.
My oldest is incredibly smart, funny, and beautiful, but more than anything she is kind. She tears up when something sad happens in a movie. She goes out of her way to help anyone she can, however she can. She asks me regularly how I'm feeling, and if there's anything she can get/do for me. She "mothers" her younger siblings, with so much love in her eyes. She's also fiercely protective of them, and jumps between them and any perceived threat without a second thought for herself. She expresses a desire to jump into movies and warn the "good guys" about the "bad guy" and his intentions. She doesn't always like the rules, or necessary discipline, but she has enough maturity and perspective to trust her parents and always loves us regardless. She shares her feelings with us readily and asks for help dealing with the negative ones. Her desire for knowledge is insatiable, and she loves to learn. At only 6.5 years old, she seems so much older. She is such a beautiful soul, and I hope she always retains her thirst for knowledge, truth, and love.
My middle child is truly unique. She is my Sunshine/Thundercloud. She can go from giggling and happy, to closed off and angry/crying, in seconds flat. She is ridiculously sharp-minded, and perceives much more than one would expect of a 4.5-year-old. She's full of constant questions, and so strong willed that she will repeat those questions endlessly in an attempt to get the answers she wants. Her determination is without equal, that's for sure. She loves to be loved, though she can be slow to bestow her own affections on others. And when she does, she is the snuggliest, sweetest little thing. She has her own way of doing things, and nothing anyone says will get her to do things differently, or on any timetable but her own. She marches to the beat of her own drum, and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. She is unbelievably intelligent, and once she gets past the "dreaded fours" (age 4 has been the hardest of all with both girls), she'll be even more of a fascinating little joy than she already is.
My son, though he is only 1, is already a force to be reckoned with. He's smart, he's strong, and he's made it clear that it's his way, or the highway. He's a bright, bubbly, happy little boy, but when he's angry he makes sure everyone knows it. He has a compulsion to climb and explore and understand his world through physical means, and he will go to any lengths to achieve his purpose. He eats like a frat boy, and loves nothing more than mealtimes with family. Snuggles are a necessity at nap and bed times, and he's finally starting to understand that nighttime is for sleeping. His shrieks of laughter are so joyful, and the way he analyzes everything he encounters is fascinating to me. He's certainly a trial when it comes to keeping him both safely contained AND entertained, but that's normal for this age. He's an adventurous little wonder, and I can't wait to see who he grows to be.
I love these little miracles my husband and I have created, with all my heart, and I'm eternally grateful for them. I look forward to many, many more years of watching their personalities develop, and helping them to become everything they're capable of being.
My oldest is incredibly smart, funny, and beautiful, but more than anything she is kind. She tears up when something sad happens in a movie. She goes out of her way to help anyone she can, however she can. She asks me regularly how I'm feeling, and if there's anything she can get/do for me. She "mothers" her younger siblings, with so much love in her eyes. She's also fiercely protective of them, and jumps between them and any perceived threat without a second thought for herself. She expresses a desire to jump into movies and warn the "good guys" about the "bad guy" and his intentions. She doesn't always like the rules, or necessary discipline, but she has enough maturity and perspective to trust her parents and always loves us regardless. She shares her feelings with us readily and asks for help dealing with the negative ones. Her desire for knowledge is insatiable, and she loves to learn. At only 6.5 years old, she seems so much older. She is such a beautiful soul, and I hope she always retains her thirst for knowledge, truth, and love.
My middle child is truly unique. She is my Sunshine/Thundercloud. She can go from giggling and happy, to closed off and angry/crying, in seconds flat. She is ridiculously sharp-minded, and perceives much more than one would expect of a 4.5-year-old. She's full of constant questions, and so strong willed that she will repeat those questions endlessly in an attempt to get the answers she wants. Her determination is without equal, that's for sure. She loves to be loved, though she can be slow to bestow her own affections on others. And when she does, she is the snuggliest, sweetest little thing. She has her own way of doing things, and nothing anyone says will get her to do things differently, or on any timetable but her own. She marches to the beat of her own drum, and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. She is unbelievably intelligent, and once she gets past the "dreaded fours" (age 4 has been the hardest of all with both girls), she'll be even more of a fascinating little joy than she already is.
My son, though he is only 1, is already a force to be reckoned with. He's smart, he's strong, and he's made it clear that it's his way, or the highway. He's a bright, bubbly, happy little boy, but when he's angry he makes sure everyone knows it. He has a compulsion to climb and explore and understand his world through physical means, and he will go to any lengths to achieve his purpose. He eats like a frat boy, and loves nothing more than mealtimes with family. Snuggles are a necessity at nap and bed times, and he's finally starting to understand that nighttime is for sleeping. His shrieks of laughter are so joyful, and the way he analyzes everything he encounters is fascinating to me. He's certainly a trial when it comes to keeping him both safely contained AND entertained, but that's normal for this age. He's an adventurous little wonder, and I can't wait to see who he grows to be.
I love these little miracles my husband and I have created, with all my heart, and I'm eternally grateful for them. I look forward to many, many more years of watching their personalities develop, and helping them to become everything they're capable of being.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
Two-Face
I am a woman with two faces.
One, the face my family sees every day. No makeup, glasses on, and usually topped with messy hair (whether in a ponytail or worn loose).
The other, less frequently seen, wearing makeup and contacts and with smooth, styled and/or curled hair.
They are both me.
There's a common misconception that makeup is a "mask," or somehow used as a way to hide one's true self. In reality, it's most often used as a form of self expression, or because the individual wearing it simply enjoys it. Sometimes it's used as an enhancement or ego boost, or to make the individual feel good.
As for me, I can go out without makeup, no problem. I have no issues with my appearance. I'm aging well, I take care of my skin, and I'm reasonably confident. I'm fortunate to have good self esteem and a husband who thinks I'm irresistible, even when I've neglected myself for days on end. I like my face.
But I also have a LOT of fun playing with makeup. It's fun, I like how it looks, and it's an opportunity to express how I'm feeling. Certain situations and moods bring out different sides of my personality, and I like allowing my outward appearance to reflect that.
As a mother of two little girls who love to watch me put on my makeup, I try to impress upon them that it's just for fun, and certainly not necessary. I don't want them to think they have to wear makeup to be presentable. I don't ever want them to do it for anyone but themselves. I don't hide my natural appearance from them. I want them to know that they don't have to "enhance" themselves to be considered beautiful, and that any makeup they choose to wear (when they're older) is for them, and no one else. I want them to know that choosing to wear makeup doesn't indicate a lack of self esteem, but rather a desire to have fun with their appearance, the same as hair styles and colors, piercings, tattoos, and clothing.
I share no-makeup selfies on social media as often as makeup selfies. Both of those faces are mine, and I like them equally. Why? Because they're both me. My kids tell me I'm beautiful when I'm in PJ's, yawning and making coffee, with no makeup on and greasy hair falling in my face. They tell me I'm beautiful when I'm all dressed up, with a full face of makeup, ready to go out. And you know what? They're right on both counts. And thanking them for their compliments, no matter when they choose to give them, will hopefully teach them that their self worth doesn't lie in their appearance, but that it's also okay to care about and have fun with their appearance.
There's no one right way to show confidence.
One, the face my family sees every day. No makeup, glasses on, and usually topped with messy hair (whether in a ponytail or worn loose).
The other, less frequently seen, wearing makeup and contacts and with smooth, styled and/or curled hair.
They are both me.
There's a common misconception that makeup is a "mask," or somehow used as a way to hide one's true self. In reality, it's most often used as a form of self expression, or because the individual wearing it simply enjoys it. Sometimes it's used as an enhancement or ego boost, or to make the individual feel good.
As for me, I can go out without makeup, no problem. I have no issues with my appearance. I'm aging well, I take care of my skin, and I'm reasonably confident. I'm fortunate to have good self esteem and a husband who thinks I'm irresistible, even when I've neglected myself for days on end. I like my face.
But I also have a LOT of fun playing with makeup. It's fun, I like how it looks, and it's an opportunity to express how I'm feeling. Certain situations and moods bring out different sides of my personality, and I like allowing my outward appearance to reflect that.
As a mother of two little girls who love to watch me put on my makeup, I try to impress upon them that it's just for fun, and certainly not necessary. I don't want them to think they have to wear makeup to be presentable. I don't ever want them to do it for anyone but themselves. I don't hide my natural appearance from them. I want them to know that they don't have to "enhance" themselves to be considered beautiful, and that any makeup they choose to wear (when they're older) is for them, and no one else. I want them to know that choosing to wear makeup doesn't indicate a lack of self esteem, but rather a desire to have fun with their appearance, the same as hair styles and colors, piercings, tattoos, and clothing.
I share no-makeup selfies on social media as often as makeup selfies. Both of those faces are mine, and I like them equally. Why? Because they're both me. My kids tell me I'm beautiful when I'm in PJ's, yawning and making coffee, with no makeup on and greasy hair falling in my face. They tell me I'm beautiful when I'm all dressed up, with a full face of makeup, ready to go out. And you know what? They're right on both counts. And thanking them for their compliments, no matter when they choose to give them, will hopefully teach them that their self worth doesn't lie in their appearance, but that it's also okay to care about and have fun with their appearance.
There's no one right way to show confidence.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Cognitive Dissonance is a Powerful Thing
I never plan on giving birth again. Let's just put that out there for the sake of clarity. But if I did (such as if an "accident" occurred) and I ever ended up having another baby, it would NOT be in a hospital unless absolutely medically necessary. No way in HELL. Why? So many reasons.
For one: I read a story in a " mom group" I'm in on Facebook about a mom whose labor (induced, of course, as 1 in 3 women are these days for NO REASON) was only 7 hours long, and (I quote) "the nurse held the baby's head in until the OB could get there." ....WHAT??? Does this mom not realize how non-evidence-based that is? Or how potentially detrimental to the health of the baby that can be? She made it seem so, "oh, haha, the baby came so fast," but I guarantee you she wasn't educated on the implications of what that nurse was doing (hello, potential nerve damage to both mom and baby!)! I'm glad it all turned out well for her and the baby, of course, and that she's happy with her birth experience, but that could have gone SO badly for absolutely NO reason other than a ridiculous hospital "policy." Babies have been seriously injured that way. I mean, really, why interfere with a completely natural biological process, when it's progressing normally, just because a certain person isn't in the room to "catch" the baby? If hospitals are so great, why aren't doctors available at the drop of a hat if a labor progresses that quickly? Why are such unscientific practices so commonplace? It makes NO sense whatsoever.
Second, I'm sick of America's obsession with cutting baby boys' genitals. If I ever had another son, I wouldn't want him born in an American hospital unless I had him by my side 24/7, or if I knew for certain that no one would cut him. I've heard too many stories lately of babies cut without their mothers' consent, or of mothers being asked (pestered) multiple times about "when the circumcision will be" by nurses/doctors, etc, to ever be comfortable having a baby boy in a hospital. Shoot, even some birth centers and home birth midwives will promote/support male genital cutting. It makes no sense to me. "Here, have a natural birth with no interventions unless absolutely necessary. Trust your body, it works the way it's meant to. Don't consent to having yourself cut (whether an episiotomy or cesarean) unless it's a life-or-death scenario. But hey, let's cut off a piece of your son's genitals for no medical reason whatsoever. That's totally cool." Unbelievable, these double standards we have here.
Hospital birth is no longer scientific. I wish it were, because the safety factor of being able to birth in a place with emergency facilities on hand, just in case, is a wonderful option that all moms should feel safe choosing. It's just not as wonderful when a low-risk mother who desires a natural birth is forced into unnecessary interventions because they're "hospital policy," which creates more problems than it solves. We Americans have some of the worst maternal-fetal outcomes of any developed nation, yet we spend the MOST on maternity care. It's a money-making industry, not one focused on giving personalized, scientific care. Hospitals in America tend to promote circumcision too, which is also not based in any sound science. No medical organization in the world recommends it. The closest is the AAP, which states that there are "potential benefits," but their findings have been criticized by the rest of the world for cultural bias and inaccurate studies. Cutting off the foreskin of only baby boys (yes, girls have it too) doesn't make any more sense than prophylactic removal of tonsils or appendixes, etc. It's beyond ridiculous.
I consider myself to be a reasonable person who makes decisions for my health and my children's based on hard, scientific fact. That's the reason I vaccinate (though on a delayed schedule so that, in the case of an adverse reaction, we know which vaccine it's a reaction TO): every medical organization in the world recommends them, and the likelihood of a vaccine injury is astronomically unlikely compared to the likelihood of my children contracting a vaccine preventable disease if unvaccinated. Science is in favor of vaccines. It isn't, thus far, in favor of hospital birth (for low-risk women) OR circumcision. America's healthcare system is screwed up in so many ways, it seriously isn't funny anymore. And people refuse to educate themselves. Why? Cognitive dissonance.
Americans operate with cultural blinders superglued on. I say that birthing in the hospital isn't necessarily the safest option for a low risk mom, and cognitive dissonance caused by 100 years of cultural conditioning (based on nothing but fear tactics and old smear campaigns) to the contrary gets blasted in my face. I say that there's no scientifically sound reason to think that all baby boys are born defective and in need of immediate genital surgery, and the same thing happens. Cognitive dissonance is a POWERFUL thing. I just wish I knew how to kindly break through it and encourage others to really research things. I don't mean just searching Google for sources that back them up; I mean finding impartial, peer-reviewed studies with large enough sample sizes to be statistically significant. It would make such a difference in our country if everyone was willing to put aside their biases and make that effort with an open mind.
So yeah. I get incredibly tense and frustrated when I have pregnant friends and family members. Especially if I find out they're expecting boys. None of this is judgement, and if it's taken that way, well...maybe you should look at yourself first. Because this isn't just MY opinion, it's based on science from the majority of the world.
For one: I read a story in a " mom group" I'm in on Facebook about a mom whose labor (induced, of course, as 1 in 3 women are these days for NO REASON) was only 7 hours long, and (I quote) "the nurse held the baby's head in until the OB could get there." ....WHAT??? Does this mom not realize how non-evidence-based that is? Or how potentially detrimental to the health of the baby that can be? She made it seem so, "oh, haha, the baby came so fast," but I guarantee you she wasn't educated on the implications of what that nurse was doing (hello, potential nerve damage to both mom and baby!)! I'm glad it all turned out well for her and the baby, of course, and that she's happy with her birth experience, but that could have gone SO badly for absolutely NO reason other than a ridiculous hospital "policy." Babies have been seriously injured that way. I mean, really, why interfere with a completely natural biological process, when it's progressing normally, just because a certain person isn't in the room to "catch" the baby? If hospitals are so great, why aren't doctors available at the drop of a hat if a labor progresses that quickly? Why are such unscientific practices so commonplace? It makes NO sense whatsoever.
Second, I'm sick of America's obsession with cutting baby boys' genitals. If I ever had another son, I wouldn't want him born in an American hospital unless I had him by my side 24/7, or if I knew for certain that no one would cut him. I've heard too many stories lately of babies cut without their mothers' consent, or of mothers being asked (pestered) multiple times about "when the circumcision will be" by nurses/doctors, etc, to ever be comfortable having a baby boy in a hospital. Shoot, even some birth centers and home birth midwives will promote/support male genital cutting. It makes no sense to me. "Here, have a natural birth with no interventions unless absolutely necessary. Trust your body, it works the way it's meant to. Don't consent to having yourself cut (whether an episiotomy or cesarean) unless it's a life-or-death scenario. But hey, let's cut off a piece of your son's genitals for no medical reason whatsoever. That's totally cool." Unbelievable, these double standards we have here.
Hospital birth is no longer scientific. I wish it were, because the safety factor of being able to birth in a place with emergency facilities on hand, just in case, is a wonderful option that all moms should feel safe choosing. It's just not as wonderful when a low-risk mother who desires a natural birth is forced into unnecessary interventions because they're "hospital policy," which creates more problems than it solves. We Americans have some of the worst maternal-fetal outcomes of any developed nation, yet we spend the MOST on maternity care. It's a money-making industry, not one focused on giving personalized, scientific care. Hospitals in America tend to promote circumcision too, which is also not based in any sound science. No medical organization in the world recommends it. The closest is the AAP, which states that there are "potential benefits," but their findings have been criticized by the rest of the world for cultural bias and inaccurate studies. Cutting off the foreskin of only baby boys (yes, girls have it too) doesn't make any more sense than prophylactic removal of tonsils or appendixes, etc. It's beyond ridiculous.
I consider myself to be a reasonable person who makes decisions for my health and my children's based on hard, scientific fact. That's the reason I vaccinate (though on a delayed schedule so that, in the case of an adverse reaction, we know which vaccine it's a reaction TO): every medical organization in the world recommends them, and the likelihood of a vaccine injury is astronomically unlikely compared to the likelihood of my children contracting a vaccine preventable disease if unvaccinated. Science is in favor of vaccines. It isn't, thus far, in favor of hospital birth (for low-risk women) OR circumcision. America's healthcare system is screwed up in so many ways, it seriously isn't funny anymore. And people refuse to educate themselves. Why? Cognitive dissonance.
Americans operate with cultural blinders superglued on. I say that birthing in the hospital isn't necessarily the safest option for a low risk mom, and cognitive dissonance caused by 100 years of cultural conditioning (based on nothing but fear tactics and old smear campaigns) to the contrary gets blasted in my face. I say that there's no scientifically sound reason to think that all baby boys are born defective and in need of immediate genital surgery, and the same thing happens. Cognitive dissonance is a POWERFUL thing. I just wish I knew how to kindly break through it and encourage others to really research things. I don't mean just searching Google for sources that back them up; I mean finding impartial, peer-reviewed studies with large enough sample sizes to be statistically significant. It would make such a difference in our country if everyone was willing to put aside their biases and make that effort with an open mind.
So yeah. I get incredibly tense and frustrated when I have pregnant friends and family members. Especially if I find out they're expecting boys. None of this is judgement, and if it's taken that way, well...maybe you should look at yourself first. Because this isn't just MY opinion, it's based on science from the majority of the world.
Sunday, July 10, 2016
Birth Story #3: Home Beats Hospital!
I did it! I had a safe, successful home birth!
The short version is that I started experiencing real, very painful contractions that were coming about 2 minutes apart at 7:30pm, on the day I was 41 weeks along exactly. Labor progressed VERY quickly, and after around 40-45 minutes of pushing (I can't remember exactly), my son was born at 11:05pm. I had a seriously intense, fast 3.5 hour labor, and a 7lb 15oz, healthy little boy to cuddle afterwards! It could not have gone more smoothly.
Now for the long version.
I had gone in for a biophysical profile that morning to check on Baby, as I was a week past my due date and we needed to be sure he was still thriving in there. He was, thankfully! Perfect score on the BPP, so I went on to see my midwife for a checkup and to talk about how we wanted to proceed in this long pregnancy. She offered to strip my membranes if I wanted it, but my husband and I had decided before the appointment that if everything looked good on the BPP, we didn't feel the need to intervene like that, so I refused. We did discuss pumping for nipple stimulation and drinking red raspberry leaf tea to encourage the contractions I'd been having, but we knew none of that would work if my body wasn't ready for labor anyway. She cleared me to do any of the "natural, at-home" labor-encouraging remedies that I wanted, but I didn't want do anything too extreme (like castor oil) until I was closer to 42 weeks.
During my exam (just fundal measurements and such, no need for a pelvic), both my midwives commented that my belly was very, very low, I was only measuring at 38 weeks instead of 41, and Baby's heartbeat had slowed a little bit compared to previous visits (which is something that both of his sisters did just before labor). We scheduled my 42-week appointment just in case, but my midwife laughingly said, "I'll see you tonight," when we said goodbye. We all really thought he was coming soon.
Well, she was EXACTLY right.
I went home, had dinner with my husband and kids, and decided to pump a little. I did it for about 10 minutes, and even managed to express some colostrum! I started having some mild contractions, but they weren't consistent. My best friend brought me some of the red raspberry leaf tea, and my husband made me a strong mug of it. I drank it, knowing it wouldn't send me into labor if it wasn't really time, but hoping it might encourage those contractions I was already having. At 7:30 my husband put the girls to bed and I decided to pump again. Within seconds I had a HUGE contraction. I thought it might be a fluke, so I let the pump keep going. 90 seconds later there was another, even stronger, contraction, and it took my breath away. Trying not to get my hopes up, I left the pump on. 2 minutes after that contraction, was another. And then another. They were averaging 1.5-2 minutes apart. I shut off the pump and got on my hands and knees on the couch for comfort and began timing them. By 8:00 I was moaning through them and convinced it was real labor. I texted my mom, and we all quickly decided it was best for her and my dad to come get the girls asap so I didn't have to worry about waking them with all the noise that was about to start happening.
At 8:30 I texted my midwife (and friend) who lives further away and let her know what was going on, and she started heading up immediately. 10 minutes later my husband called my (head) midwife to let her know we needed her, because I was on my knees and rocking my hips and moaning through almost constant contractions. Since my last birth was only 4 hours start to finish, everyone knew that they needed to move quickly once this one got going.
Assured that everyone was on their way and I could just do my thing, I went to the bedroom and changed into my "labor outfit" (bikini top and loose, stretchy black knee-length skirt), and began stripping the blankets and good sheets off the bed. I had layered plastic and old sheets on my bed weeks ago, so that all we had to do was peel off layers as needed during/after the birth. Once that was done, I went into the girls' room, where my best friend was sitting and talking to my oldest to keep her occupied. #2 was still sleeping, in spite of all efforts to wake her. I talked to #1 about what was happening, explaining that her baby brother was about to be born, and her grandparents were coming to get her and her sister so they could sleep somewhere quiet that night. I had several contractions while talking to her, but making funny "horse lips" noises and such made us both laugh, and she actually helped me get through them easily without her getting scared. I don't think she even knew I was in pain.
While waiting for everyone to get there, I alternately labored on my bed on my hands and knees, and walked around the house. My husband was in the kitchen making my "labor-aide" (an electrolyte drink to keep me hydrated), so I went to check on him at one point, standing in the doorway and swaying/groaning through the insane contractions. Suddenly I felt my dinner in my throat, and rushed to the bathroom to throw up. It wasn't too bad, and it actually distracted me from the pain pretty well for a few minutes. I rinsed out my mouth and went back to the bedroom to labor alone some more.
My parents arrived to pick up the girls, and I made sure to give them both a squeeze and a kiss before they left. #1 skipped away happily, and #2 was barely even conscious enough to register that she wasn't in bed anymore, but I knew I needed those last little cuddles before adding to my brood. I didn't even see my parents, as my husband knew from the sounds I was making that it wasn't going to be long before Baby came and was almost rushing them out the door. Once they were gone, I got into the shower. I settled on my knees, leaning on the edge of the tub with the curtain pulled aside, warm water running on my back and hips. It helped so much, but I needed my puke bowl nearby, and the contractions were impossible to keep silent through and were coming almost on top of each other.
This is where things start getting fuzzy and time no longer exists to me. This is when I was officially in transition (though I didn't know it), and it all went into high gear. My head midwife (call her B) got there and checked in on me, and started getting her things all set up rather quickly when she heard my labor noises. I told her that this was just like the dream I'd had not long ago about delivering the baby myself in the shower, and she hurried a little more, I think. Then my midwife/friend (call her K) arrived, and when she sat on the toilet opposite the shower and gently touched my arm to let me know she was there, I instantly felt a sense of peace and the pain lessened during that contraction. She used the waterproof monitor to check Baby's heartbeat (which they did regularly throughout my labor after that), and suggested making me more comfortable by bringing my yoga ball into the shower for me to lean forward on, since leaning on the edge like I was had me slightly twisted to the side. My husband got the ball and when I leaned on it, everything felt SO much better, and I relaxed more. I know at some point my third midwife (call her C) got there, but I don't know when. Like I said, it's all pretty fuzzy because it was SO fast and SO intense.
And then it intensified again. I couldn't control my vocalizing, and it was starting to get high-pitched and making me tense up. My midwives calmly reminded me to keep my noises low and try to breathe instead of yell, but I don't think my brain was in a place to process instructions. I think they knew I was close to pushing, because they insisted I get out of the shower so they could check me. I did NOT want to get out or be checked, because the shower was comfy and isolated and I was convinced they'd check and I'd only be 4-5cm and I'd get depressed that I still had a long way to go. But with some coaxing, they got me out. My husband helped dry me (okay, he pretty much just did it), and led me out of the bathroom. I stopped him during a contraction and told him I was dying from the pain and couldn't do it anymore, but he reassured me that I WAS doing it and it would be over soon. I think I growled at him.
As I sat crookedly on the edge of the bed, K checked me (after I jokingly asked her if she was ready to be REALLY good friends), but she wasn't sure of the measurement. So B checked, and they told me I was complete, with just a little anterior cervical lip and a bulging bag of waters. I'm pretty sure I started crying, and I asked, "really?" because I was so relieved. It was almost over!
Now it all gets even fuzzier to me. I think we were waiting for my body to have the natural urge to push, and they wanted me on my side so they could support my perineum against tearing (my main goal in this birth, besides a healthy mom and baby, was to not tear, or at least tear as little as possible), while still allowing my pelvis to open as fully as possible. I didn't want to be on my side. It made my hip hurt to hold my leg up, even with support, and my muscles kept freezing up with every contraction to the point where I couldn't move at all. I kept saying, "I can't," and I think they thought I meant I couldn't go through the labor, but what I really meant was, "I am physically unable to because my body isn't responding to my commands." They listened to me and helped me into my position of choice (hands and knees), and that's when the pushing urge hit. I was outright screaming at that point, because, well, OW!! I think that epidural I had in my second birth, which I thought didn't work, maybe worked better than I thought it did, because WOW, I've never felt anything like that before!
I started tensing and pulling up and "away" from the pressure, instead of bearing down effectively. They tried to get me to go with it and let myself push, and I know both K and B tried to help me at different points by pushing aside that little cervical lip during a contraction to get it over Baby's head, but I just couldn't make myself do it for some reason. I was crying between contraction peaks (there was no break between contractions anymore, just the dips in between the peaks) and begging for it to be over, and my brain had gone fully into "fight or flight" mode, choosing a very frantic flight over any kind of reasonable fight.
Finally B laid it out for me. She said we could keep doing it my way if that was what I wanted. It was my birth, after all, and I made the final call, but my way was going to hurt more, take longer, and make it more likely that I would tear. Or, I could get on my side like they suggested, and they could support me better and I could push effectively and get it over with faster, and maybe not tear at all.
Well, I didn't like that one bit in the moment. I didn't want to be told what to do. I wanted to do my own thing and damn what anyone else said. But then my reasonable brain kicked in, and I remembered that I had told B during my pregnancy that I wanted to listen to her expertise during labor, and that if what I was doing was going to prolong labor or make me tear, that I wanted her to tell me and get me to move. She was doing exactly what I had asked of her, and I knew deep down that she was right. I think I mentally checked out for a couple contractions, because I remember getting really quiet, and my husband asked, "are you still with us?" Then I decided it was time to face the pain head-on, and asked them to help me get on my side. I think I growled some more at this point, and grumbled, "FINE," before I asked to be moved.
Ouch. All I can say is OUCH. Things hit a whole new level once I moved. My water finally broke, I couldn't pull away from the pressure so easily while on my side, and Baby's head was making a quick descent. I remember pulling away from everyone's support at one point and gasping, "this is terrifying!" I was giving in to the fear that humans naturally have of pain. After all, pain usually means something is wrong, right? But birth is different. I needed to switch gears mentally into accepting and pushing through the pain instead of fighting it and/or trying to escape it, and my midwives helped me do that through breathing exercises and reminders that the only way out of it was to push Baby out. I said multiple times, "this is BAD," and it worried B a bit I think, but all I meant was that the burning of my body stretching around Baby's head was more than I'd expected.
I flickered in and out of control of myself. I controlled my breathing and pushed effectively for a few contractions, and then I'd lose it and freak out for a few and try pulling away again. K always managed to bring me back down by making eye contact and demonstrating breathing and reminding me to take all that energy I was using to yell and internalize it and use it to push my baby out. B got a mirror and let me see my progress once Baby was close to crowning. I saw the top of his head, saw how much it moved when I pushed through a contraction, and it gave me some strength to keep it up.
Once he began to crown, though, I got a little frantic again. That ring of fire is no joke!! My logical brain got mad at my panicky self, and suddenly the pain was easier to deal with. I realized that I needed to get angry. Everyone tells you to relax and be calm and work with your body and breathe your baby out, and maybe that's true for some, but it wasn't for me. I needed to get angry at the pain, angry at myself for being a wimp, angry at SOMETHING, because when I was angry it didn't hurt as much and I was able to bear down hard. Anger gave me something to fight against other than myself, and I stopped thinking so much about the pain.
Suddenly I was making major progress. B, K, and C were cheering me on, my husband was telling me he could see Baby's head and that I was doing so well, and I could feel the energy in the room intensifying. They used oil and counterpressure to support my perineum while I pushed, and it felt SO good. When Baby had fully crowned, I suddenly had a lull in contractions and no urge to push. They told me I couldn't let Baby stay like that long and that I'd need to push soon, no matter what. I got a little worried, but it was only a minute or two before I was suddenly bearing down with everything I had. I didn't even feel it when his head came out, and everyone was suddenly telling me to stop pushing (they needed to be sure his shoulders came out properly, as he was in a posterior position and might get stuck if he twisted at the wrong time). But Baby had his own ideas, and K had to hurriedly catch him, with my husband's assistance, as he turned his shoulders just right on his own and slid out of me without another push.
They laid him on my stomach immediately. He yelled as he came out, but quieted down pretty quickly when he was covered with a towel and snuggled against me. I tried to pull him up higher onto my chest, but he had a short enough cord that I couldn't, so on my belly he stayed. I cuddled him and marveled at him and kissed his daddy; it was bliss. His immediate APGAR score was perfect; he came out pink from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes, and his lungs were obviously working just fine.
I was busy snuggling him when I apparently had a huge gush of blood, and my midwives sprang into action at the sight of a possible hemorrhage. C gave me a shot of pitocin in my thigh to help my uterus clamp down properly (all the while apologizing about the pain of the shot, but I didn't feel a thing), B started massaging my belly for the same purpose, and K (I think) helped my husband cut the cord quickly and transferred Baby to daddy's arms in case I got weak or passed out. They kept asking me if I felt dizzy or anything, but I felt fine!
The bleeding slowed to a normal post-birth amount quickly. It seems it was just a gush with a contraction, so we relaxed and waited for the placenta to be delivered. It took a little while, but I pushed it out easily with a contraction and (this may sound weird but it's SO true) it felt SO GOOD.
Everything after this is a blur. I don't remember what happened in what order. I remember that I laid on my side and snuggled Baby, but can't recall if they got me up to use the bathroom before or after we cuddled and had our first nursing. I do know that at some point the sheets got changed, the bathroom got cleaned up, I walked to the bathroom on my own but attended by K, I had something to drink, and my husband and I laid down in bed with Baby to bond while my midwives went out into the living room and charted everything that had happened.
We were alone for quite a while, barring the occasional check from a midwife. After a couple hours, it was time for the newborn exam. Baby was checked over, weighed, measured, etc., and pronounced perfect at 7lbs 15oz and 22in long. B checked me to see if I'd had any tearing, and found a TINY tear right at my scar line from the previous tears. She gave me a choice because it was so small: she could put 2 tiny stitches in it, or I could just commit to taking it SUPER easy and keeping my legs closed for a week or so and allow it to close on its own. Since my husband had 2 weeks of paid paternity leave to use and I'd be able to take it easy, I opted for no stitches.
After the newborn exam and my checkup, we were tucked into bed to rest, and my midwife team left, saying they'd be in touch to make plans to come check on us in a day or two.
It's been almost 2 weeks now. I'm recovering really well! I'm still kind of in shock that I did it. I actually did it! I had an all-natural birth at home. No pain meds, nothing. It's exhilarating! The first 24 hours were super rough thanks to afterpains and severe nausea/vomiting (normal for me after birth), and those pains plagued me for a few days, but it went away and I'm much better. Those pains get worse after each baby, so these were the worst I've had yet! Worth it, though, absolutely.
All in all, it was AMAZING. It was the worst pain I've ever felt, the most out-of-control I've ever been, and also the highest high I've ever experienced. I'm kind of glad that this was our last baby, as that level of intensity, pressure, and pain is something I would need to really mentally prepare myself to go through again, but even so I wouldn't change anything and would do it again in a heartbeat if another pregnancy happened. I cannot imagine giving birth anywhere else but in my home, or with anyone but my midwife team.
The short version is that I started experiencing real, very painful contractions that were coming about 2 minutes apart at 7:30pm, on the day I was 41 weeks along exactly. Labor progressed VERY quickly, and after around 40-45 minutes of pushing (I can't remember exactly), my son was born at 11:05pm. I had a seriously intense, fast 3.5 hour labor, and a 7lb 15oz, healthy little boy to cuddle afterwards! It could not have gone more smoothly.
Now for the long version.
I had gone in for a biophysical profile that morning to check on Baby, as I was a week past my due date and we needed to be sure he was still thriving in there. He was, thankfully! Perfect score on the BPP, so I went on to see my midwife for a checkup and to talk about how we wanted to proceed in this long pregnancy. She offered to strip my membranes if I wanted it, but my husband and I had decided before the appointment that if everything looked good on the BPP, we didn't feel the need to intervene like that, so I refused. We did discuss pumping for nipple stimulation and drinking red raspberry leaf tea to encourage the contractions I'd been having, but we knew none of that would work if my body wasn't ready for labor anyway. She cleared me to do any of the "natural, at-home" labor-encouraging remedies that I wanted, but I didn't want do anything too extreme (like castor oil) until I was closer to 42 weeks.
During my exam (just fundal measurements and such, no need for a pelvic), both my midwives commented that my belly was very, very low, I was only measuring at 38 weeks instead of 41, and Baby's heartbeat had slowed a little bit compared to previous visits (which is something that both of his sisters did just before labor). We scheduled my 42-week appointment just in case, but my midwife laughingly said, "I'll see you tonight," when we said goodbye. We all really thought he was coming soon.
Well, she was EXACTLY right.
I went home, had dinner with my husband and kids, and decided to pump a little. I did it for about 10 minutes, and even managed to express some colostrum! I started having some mild contractions, but they weren't consistent. My best friend brought me some of the red raspberry leaf tea, and my husband made me a strong mug of it. I drank it, knowing it wouldn't send me into labor if it wasn't really time, but hoping it might encourage those contractions I was already having. At 7:30 my husband put the girls to bed and I decided to pump again. Within seconds I had a HUGE contraction. I thought it might be a fluke, so I let the pump keep going. 90 seconds later there was another, even stronger, contraction, and it took my breath away. Trying not to get my hopes up, I left the pump on. 2 minutes after that contraction, was another. And then another. They were averaging 1.5-2 minutes apart. I shut off the pump and got on my hands and knees on the couch for comfort and began timing them. By 8:00 I was moaning through them and convinced it was real labor. I texted my mom, and we all quickly decided it was best for her and my dad to come get the girls asap so I didn't have to worry about waking them with all the noise that was about to start happening.
At 8:30 I texted my midwife (and friend) who lives further away and let her know what was going on, and she started heading up immediately. 10 minutes later my husband called my (head) midwife to let her know we needed her, because I was on my knees and rocking my hips and moaning through almost constant contractions. Since my last birth was only 4 hours start to finish, everyone knew that they needed to move quickly once this one got going.
Assured that everyone was on their way and I could just do my thing, I went to the bedroom and changed into my "labor outfit" (bikini top and loose, stretchy black knee-length skirt), and began stripping the blankets and good sheets off the bed. I had layered plastic and old sheets on my bed weeks ago, so that all we had to do was peel off layers as needed during/after the birth. Once that was done, I went into the girls' room, where my best friend was sitting and talking to my oldest to keep her occupied. #2 was still sleeping, in spite of all efforts to wake her. I talked to #1 about what was happening, explaining that her baby brother was about to be born, and her grandparents were coming to get her and her sister so they could sleep somewhere quiet that night. I had several contractions while talking to her, but making funny "horse lips" noises and such made us both laugh, and she actually helped me get through them easily without her getting scared. I don't think she even knew I was in pain.
While waiting for everyone to get there, I alternately labored on my bed on my hands and knees, and walked around the house. My husband was in the kitchen making my "labor-aide" (an electrolyte drink to keep me hydrated), so I went to check on him at one point, standing in the doorway and swaying/groaning through the insane contractions. Suddenly I felt my dinner in my throat, and rushed to the bathroom to throw up. It wasn't too bad, and it actually distracted me from the pain pretty well for a few minutes. I rinsed out my mouth and went back to the bedroom to labor alone some more.
My parents arrived to pick up the girls, and I made sure to give them both a squeeze and a kiss before they left. #1 skipped away happily, and #2 was barely even conscious enough to register that she wasn't in bed anymore, but I knew I needed those last little cuddles before adding to my brood. I didn't even see my parents, as my husband knew from the sounds I was making that it wasn't going to be long before Baby came and was almost rushing them out the door. Once they were gone, I got into the shower. I settled on my knees, leaning on the edge of the tub with the curtain pulled aside, warm water running on my back and hips. It helped so much, but I needed my puke bowl nearby, and the contractions were impossible to keep silent through and were coming almost on top of each other.
This is where things start getting fuzzy and time no longer exists to me. This is when I was officially in transition (though I didn't know it), and it all went into high gear. My head midwife (call her B) got there and checked in on me, and started getting her things all set up rather quickly when she heard my labor noises. I told her that this was just like the dream I'd had not long ago about delivering the baby myself in the shower, and she hurried a little more, I think. Then my midwife/friend (call her K) arrived, and when she sat on the toilet opposite the shower and gently touched my arm to let me know she was there, I instantly felt a sense of peace and the pain lessened during that contraction. She used the waterproof monitor to check Baby's heartbeat (which they did regularly throughout my labor after that), and suggested making me more comfortable by bringing my yoga ball into the shower for me to lean forward on, since leaning on the edge like I was had me slightly twisted to the side. My husband got the ball and when I leaned on it, everything felt SO much better, and I relaxed more. I know at some point my third midwife (call her C) got there, but I don't know when. Like I said, it's all pretty fuzzy because it was SO fast and SO intense.
And then it intensified again. I couldn't control my vocalizing, and it was starting to get high-pitched and making me tense up. My midwives calmly reminded me to keep my noises low and try to breathe instead of yell, but I don't think my brain was in a place to process instructions. I think they knew I was close to pushing, because they insisted I get out of the shower so they could check me. I did NOT want to get out or be checked, because the shower was comfy and isolated and I was convinced they'd check and I'd only be 4-5cm and I'd get depressed that I still had a long way to go. But with some coaxing, they got me out. My husband helped dry me (okay, he pretty much just did it), and led me out of the bathroom. I stopped him during a contraction and told him I was dying from the pain and couldn't do it anymore, but he reassured me that I WAS doing it and it would be over soon. I think I growled at him.
As I sat crookedly on the edge of the bed, K checked me (after I jokingly asked her if she was ready to be REALLY good friends), but she wasn't sure of the measurement. So B checked, and they told me I was complete, with just a little anterior cervical lip and a bulging bag of waters. I'm pretty sure I started crying, and I asked, "really?" because I was so relieved. It was almost over!
Now it all gets even fuzzier to me. I think we were waiting for my body to have the natural urge to push, and they wanted me on my side so they could support my perineum against tearing (my main goal in this birth, besides a healthy mom and baby, was to not tear, or at least tear as little as possible), while still allowing my pelvis to open as fully as possible. I didn't want to be on my side. It made my hip hurt to hold my leg up, even with support, and my muscles kept freezing up with every contraction to the point where I couldn't move at all. I kept saying, "I can't," and I think they thought I meant I couldn't go through the labor, but what I really meant was, "I am physically unable to because my body isn't responding to my commands." They listened to me and helped me into my position of choice (hands and knees), and that's when the pushing urge hit. I was outright screaming at that point, because, well, OW!! I think that epidural I had in my second birth, which I thought didn't work, maybe worked better than I thought it did, because WOW, I've never felt anything like that before!
I started tensing and pulling up and "away" from the pressure, instead of bearing down effectively. They tried to get me to go with it and let myself push, and I know both K and B tried to help me at different points by pushing aside that little cervical lip during a contraction to get it over Baby's head, but I just couldn't make myself do it for some reason. I was crying between contraction peaks (there was no break between contractions anymore, just the dips in between the peaks) and begging for it to be over, and my brain had gone fully into "fight or flight" mode, choosing a very frantic flight over any kind of reasonable fight.
Finally B laid it out for me. She said we could keep doing it my way if that was what I wanted. It was my birth, after all, and I made the final call, but my way was going to hurt more, take longer, and make it more likely that I would tear. Or, I could get on my side like they suggested, and they could support me better and I could push effectively and get it over with faster, and maybe not tear at all.
Well, I didn't like that one bit in the moment. I didn't want to be told what to do. I wanted to do my own thing and damn what anyone else said. But then my reasonable brain kicked in, and I remembered that I had told B during my pregnancy that I wanted to listen to her expertise during labor, and that if what I was doing was going to prolong labor or make me tear, that I wanted her to tell me and get me to move. She was doing exactly what I had asked of her, and I knew deep down that she was right. I think I mentally checked out for a couple contractions, because I remember getting really quiet, and my husband asked, "are you still with us?" Then I decided it was time to face the pain head-on, and asked them to help me get on my side. I think I growled some more at this point, and grumbled, "FINE," before I asked to be moved.
Ouch. All I can say is OUCH. Things hit a whole new level once I moved. My water finally broke, I couldn't pull away from the pressure so easily while on my side, and Baby's head was making a quick descent. I remember pulling away from everyone's support at one point and gasping, "this is terrifying!" I was giving in to the fear that humans naturally have of pain. After all, pain usually means something is wrong, right? But birth is different. I needed to switch gears mentally into accepting and pushing through the pain instead of fighting it and/or trying to escape it, and my midwives helped me do that through breathing exercises and reminders that the only way out of it was to push Baby out. I said multiple times, "this is BAD," and it worried B a bit I think, but all I meant was that the burning of my body stretching around Baby's head was more than I'd expected.
I flickered in and out of control of myself. I controlled my breathing and pushed effectively for a few contractions, and then I'd lose it and freak out for a few and try pulling away again. K always managed to bring me back down by making eye contact and demonstrating breathing and reminding me to take all that energy I was using to yell and internalize it and use it to push my baby out. B got a mirror and let me see my progress once Baby was close to crowning. I saw the top of his head, saw how much it moved when I pushed through a contraction, and it gave me some strength to keep it up.
Once he began to crown, though, I got a little frantic again. That ring of fire is no joke!! My logical brain got mad at my panicky self, and suddenly the pain was easier to deal with. I realized that I needed to get angry. Everyone tells you to relax and be calm and work with your body and breathe your baby out, and maybe that's true for some, but it wasn't for me. I needed to get angry at the pain, angry at myself for being a wimp, angry at SOMETHING, because when I was angry it didn't hurt as much and I was able to bear down hard. Anger gave me something to fight against other than myself, and I stopped thinking so much about the pain.
Suddenly I was making major progress. B, K, and C were cheering me on, my husband was telling me he could see Baby's head and that I was doing so well, and I could feel the energy in the room intensifying. They used oil and counterpressure to support my perineum while I pushed, and it felt SO good. When Baby had fully crowned, I suddenly had a lull in contractions and no urge to push. They told me I couldn't let Baby stay like that long and that I'd need to push soon, no matter what. I got a little worried, but it was only a minute or two before I was suddenly bearing down with everything I had. I didn't even feel it when his head came out, and everyone was suddenly telling me to stop pushing (they needed to be sure his shoulders came out properly, as he was in a posterior position and might get stuck if he twisted at the wrong time). But Baby had his own ideas, and K had to hurriedly catch him, with my husband's assistance, as he turned his shoulders just right on his own and slid out of me without another push.
They laid him on my stomach immediately. He yelled as he came out, but quieted down pretty quickly when he was covered with a towel and snuggled against me. I tried to pull him up higher onto my chest, but he had a short enough cord that I couldn't, so on my belly he stayed. I cuddled him and marveled at him and kissed his daddy; it was bliss. His immediate APGAR score was perfect; he came out pink from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes, and his lungs were obviously working just fine.
I was busy snuggling him when I apparently had a huge gush of blood, and my midwives sprang into action at the sight of a possible hemorrhage. C gave me a shot of pitocin in my thigh to help my uterus clamp down properly (all the while apologizing about the pain of the shot, but I didn't feel a thing), B started massaging my belly for the same purpose, and K (I think) helped my husband cut the cord quickly and transferred Baby to daddy's arms in case I got weak or passed out. They kept asking me if I felt dizzy or anything, but I felt fine!
The bleeding slowed to a normal post-birth amount quickly. It seems it was just a gush with a contraction, so we relaxed and waited for the placenta to be delivered. It took a little while, but I pushed it out easily with a contraction and (this may sound weird but it's SO true) it felt SO GOOD.
Everything after this is a blur. I don't remember what happened in what order. I remember that I laid on my side and snuggled Baby, but can't recall if they got me up to use the bathroom before or after we cuddled and had our first nursing. I do know that at some point the sheets got changed, the bathroom got cleaned up, I walked to the bathroom on my own but attended by K, I had something to drink, and my husband and I laid down in bed with Baby to bond while my midwives went out into the living room and charted everything that had happened.
We were alone for quite a while, barring the occasional check from a midwife. After a couple hours, it was time for the newborn exam. Baby was checked over, weighed, measured, etc., and pronounced perfect at 7lbs 15oz and 22in long. B checked me to see if I'd had any tearing, and found a TINY tear right at my scar line from the previous tears. She gave me a choice because it was so small: she could put 2 tiny stitches in it, or I could just commit to taking it SUPER easy and keeping my legs closed for a week or so and allow it to close on its own. Since my husband had 2 weeks of paid paternity leave to use and I'd be able to take it easy, I opted for no stitches.
After the newborn exam and my checkup, we were tucked into bed to rest, and my midwife team left, saying they'd be in touch to make plans to come check on us in a day or two.
It's been almost 2 weeks now. I'm recovering really well! I'm still kind of in shock that I did it. I actually did it! I had an all-natural birth at home. No pain meds, nothing. It's exhilarating! The first 24 hours were super rough thanks to afterpains and severe nausea/vomiting (normal for me after birth), and those pains plagued me for a few days, but it went away and I'm much better. Those pains get worse after each baby, so these were the worst I've had yet! Worth it, though, absolutely.
All in all, it was AMAZING. It was the worst pain I've ever felt, the most out-of-control I've ever been, and also the highest high I've ever experienced. I'm kind of glad that this was our last baby, as that level of intensity, pressure, and pain is something I would need to really mentally prepare myself to go through again, but even so I wouldn't change anything and would do it again in a heartbeat if another pregnancy happened. I cannot imagine giving birth anywhere else but in my home, or with anyone but my midwife team.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Almost There
Here I am, 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I've never gone past 38+6 before, so this is very new to me. In my head, I know that it's fine, and normal, and nothing to even blink at. And I'd be fine with it, honestly, if I hadn't been having signs for weeks that labor is imminent. (Here we enter the TMI section, fair warning.) Contractions, passing mucus plug, my digestive system "purging" everything out forcibly at least once a day, usually more like twice, contractions, some small bits of bloody show, crazy nesting urges, more contractions, awful pelvic pain and pressure from a VERY open pelvis and a super-low baby's head, hormonal shifts and sudden-onset moodswings, sleep disturbances due to painful contractions and needing to pee every hour...you get the picture.
It's getting very frustrating, disheartening, and exhausting to go through every day with regular signs that this could be THE day, only to have that dashed EVERY TIME. Like I said, I've never been pregnant this long before, so even though I dealt with weeks of prodromal labor last time, it was all over much sooner (and honestly, a lot less painful). I'm having trouble just getting through daily life because it's so hard to walk through the pelvic pain and pressure, which wasn't the case in my last two pregnancies. Sure, I was uncomfortable, and in my last pregnancy I did have a lot of contractions, but my pelvis didn't feel like it had been cracked in two like it does this time.
So I've been pretty antsy and anxious for labor to start. Patience is wearing really thin. I've been grouchy and not a lot of fun to be around, I'm sure, and I'm beyond ready to have this baby and be done with pregnancy.
But you know what's never crossed my mind? Not even once?
Being induced.
And not just because I've been planning a home birth. No, I could always change my mind and ask my midwife to refer me to a doctor who would be more than happy to admit me and get this thing going. It's not about the home birth.
What it IS about is this: I haven't gone into labor yet because my baby isn't ready.
I would rather stay pregnant and miserable for weeks more, waiting for labor to start, and know that when it does it's because my baby is READY to be born, than force him out for my own convenience and risk him not being ready and needing medical assistance. It doesn't matter that my body has been showing signs of readiness for weeks; this is my third pregnancy, I know I dilate early, and my body knows what it's doing, so it doesn't surprise me that it's getting a jump on things. The point is that even with all of MY signs of readiness, my BABY isn't ready, or else labor would have started already.
My discomfort is temporary. It WILL end eventually, even if it doesn't seem like it now. And I am more than willing to put up with whatever I have to for the sake of my child. I will NOT risk him for the sake of "getting it over with" for me. He's perfectly healthy in there, and in spite of how I'm feeling, I know I am too. There is no medical need to rush him out. So I won't. My comfort is less important to me than my son's well-being. He'll get this thing going when he's good and ready, and not a minute before. And that's okay.
It's getting very frustrating, disheartening, and exhausting to go through every day with regular signs that this could be THE day, only to have that dashed EVERY TIME. Like I said, I've never been pregnant this long before, so even though I dealt with weeks of prodromal labor last time, it was all over much sooner (and honestly, a lot less painful). I'm having trouble just getting through daily life because it's so hard to walk through the pelvic pain and pressure, which wasn't the case in my last two pregnancies. Sure, I was uncomfortable, and in my last pregnancy I did have a lot of contractions, but my pelvis didn't feel like it had been cracked in two like it does this time.
So I've been pretty antsy and anxious for labor to start. Patience is wearing really thin. I've been grouchy and not a lot of fun to be around, I'm sure, and I'm beyond ready to have this baby and be done with pregnancy.
But you know what's never crossed my mind? Not even once?
Being induced.
And not just because I've been planning a home birth. No, I could always change my mind and ask my midwife to refer me to a doctor who would be more than happy to admit me and get this thing going. It's not about the home birth.
What it IS about is this: I haven't gone into labor yet because my baby isn't ready.
I would rather stay pregnant and miserable for weeks more, waiting for labor to start, and know that when it does it's because my baby is READY to be born, than force him out for my own convenience and risk him not being ready and needing medical assistance. It doesn't matter that my body has been showing signs of readiness for weeks; this is my third pregnancy, I know I dilate early, and my body knows what it's doing, so it doesn't surprise me that it's getting a jump on things. The point is that even with all of MY signs of readiness, my BABY isn't ready, or else labor would have started already.
My discomfort is temporary. It WILL end eventually, even if it doesn't seem like it now. And I am more than willing to put up with whatever I have to for the sake of my child. I will NOT risk him for the sake of "getting it over with" for me. He's perfectly healthy in there, and in spite of how I'm feeling, I know I am too. There is no medical need to rush him out. So I won't. My comfort is less important to me than my son's well-being. He'll get this thing going when he's good and ready, and not a minute before. And that's okay.
Monday, March 7, 2016
I'm Such a Rebel...
Okay, so here goes. I'm making a few choices when it comes to my birth and my son that many might find...controversial. I've researched them thoroughly and I'm absolutely certain of myself, but I know I might face some (or a lot of) backlash from people who either disagree or are simply blinded by cultural conditioning and haven't actually researched.
The first choice is about my pregnancy and birth: I'm planning a home birth with a midwife. I'm fully expecting to get responses like, "But what it something goes wrong?" or, "Do you WANT to die?" or "How selfish of you to risk your/your baby's life!" and so on. And I have answers for ALL of those statements/questions and more.
It can be summed up pretty simply; science is in favor of home birth for healthy, low-risk women having healthy, low-risk babies. (And that's only one study. There are many, many more. I address that in one of my points in this blog post.) My son and I fit into that category. The likelihood of any complications whatsoever in a normal birth is minuscule, especially for me since I already have two healthy, uncomplicated vaginal births under my belt. Beyond that, within that minuscule likelihood of complications, the chances of those complications being life-threatening are tiny. And, the chances that there wouldn't be enough warning before things became dangerous to give us time to call an ambulance and/or get to the hospital are even smaller. Additionally, midwives, whether CNM or CPM, come with oxygen and pitocin (only to stop hemorrhaging, not to induce or augment labor) and other medications to prevent and treat problems, and the knowledge of how to spot red flags and to handle emergencies. Given that the c-section and induction rates in America are 1 in 3, the vast majority of births these days take place in hospitals, and America ranks last among developed countries in maternal/fetal outcomes, giving birth in the hospital really doesn't seem like the safest choice for someone like me.
So, why is it that I'm choosing a home birth? Besides the fact that it's scientifically proven to be just as safe as (if not safer than) a hospital birth for a mom like me?
I want a natural, relaxed childbirth where I am in comfortable and in control. The best way to make that happen is to hire a midwife I "click" with and build a relationship with her, and give birth in my home rather than leaving. I want to eat and drink in labor if I feel like it. I want to be able to get in the shower or bath, or walk around, or sit on my ball, or lean on a wall, or lie in bed, whatever my body needs at the time! I want all the unnecessary rules and restrictions (iv, continuous monitoring, staying in bed, pushing on my back, staying in my room, having to bring things like a ball if I want them, not having access to food and drink, limited access to water, bright lights, nurses coming in and out of the room and "checking" me, etc.) out of the picture. I'm very primal when I give birth, and I prefer to be left alone in a dark and quiet space (preferably my shower), and hospitals just don't offer that. Evidence supports "allowing" women to follow their instincts, whatever they may be, to facilitate a physiological labor, and most hospitals just don't follow the current evidence.
Then there's the fact that my last labor was only 4 hours long, and likely would have been faster if I had stayed at home. My contractions stalled when I got in the car to head to the hospital, I couldn't relax and instead tensed against them (making the pain worse) in the ER and L&D triage, so I panicked and requested an epidural (which never worked anyway), and then when everyone left the room I relaxed and dilated completely and my body naturally began to push. What if those 2 hours I spent in transit and getting checked into the hospital hadn't happened? What if I had stayed home instead, standing in my shower and swaying through contractions like I wanted to? What if, there in my comfort zone, I had relaxed fully and allowed my body to dilate as it wanted, uninterrupted? My labor may have only been 2 hours long, not 4. My daughter might have turned from posterior to anterior position, I might have been able to push in a better position than on my side in bed (at least I wasn't on my back), and I might not have torn at all. So many things could have been more like what I wanted.
Along with the fact that my labor might be faster and easier for me at home, there's also the concern that I won't make it to the hospital in time. This is my third baby, and with such a short labor last time, it's pretty likely that this one could come even more quickly. I would much rather prepare for a home birth and have all the knowledge and supplies on hand and end up with an accidental unassisted birth (if the midwife can't get here fast enough), than to plan a birth outside my house, have no birth supplies on hand, and either give birth at home by accident or have my baby in the car on the way somewhere! Plus, my husband would really like to help catch this baby, which is not something that's usually supported in hospitals. Our midwife, however, will happily step back and let him catch once baby's head is out (she wants to support my perineum to reduce the likelihood of tearing), and she's even going to talk to him about how to deliver in case she doesn't get here in time, and how to handle things like a nuchal cord. Definitely not something we'd get in a hospital birth.
Another reason is that I want to recover my own way, in my home. I hated staying in the hospital after birth. I hated that my baby had to leave me and go to the nursery, even if it wasn't for long. I hated that I had to put her in the little plastic bassinet in order to walk the halls with her, instead of carrying her like I wanted. I hated the nurses telling me I couldn't sleep with my baby on my chest (the only way she would sleep). I hated being woken to have my vitals checked every 2 hours, when I was fine. I hated the mandatory iv. I hated the smell, the artificial lights, the dry air, the uncomfortable bed, the food, the rules...none of it felt right, and none of it was necessary. I want to give birth, bond with my baby as long as I want before newborn exams happen, to have the newborn exams happen right in front of me, to take a shower in MY bathroom, to eat if I feel like it, and to settle into my own bed to nurse and cosleep with my newborn, with my husband and daughters right there with me. No beeping monitors, no restrictions on visitors, no uncomfortable pullout couch for my husband, no nurses poking at us all the time, no hospital food, no lengthy checkout process, no driving home with a newborn who should be cuddling and bonding with me, nothing that I don't want. Again, that's not going to happen in a hospital.
After doing all my research, and spending the first half of my pregnancy planning to birth in a freestanding birth center, I realized I was stressed and unhappy because it wasn't going to be a home birth. I was worried about making it to the birth center in time. My care felt very clinical and just like hospital-based care, not at all the relaxed, personalized care I wanted. I didn't like the labor tubs. I didn't like that I'd have to bring my own food. I didn't like that I'd have to leave around 6 hours after birth with a brand-new baby, without really resting and bonding with my baby like I should be at that point. I. Just. Wasn't. Happy. I finally did what I advise other moms to do do all the time when they aren't happy with their care: I switched providers. I found a home birth midwife (and a very dear friend of mine is one of her assistants!!) that I adore, and suddenly my blood pressure is back to normal, I'm excited about this birth, and I'm enjoying what might be my last pregnancy. I'm happy. My husband is relieved and happy, too, and we're so looking forward to meeting our son for the first time in our own home.
This brings me to my second controversial choice, which involves my son: we will not be circumcising him. I've already made my feelings on this subject clear in my previous post on this blog. Unless it becomes an indisputable medical necessity, no part of my son's body will be amputated, thank you very much. Again, I fully expect backlash in the form of inaccurate and outdated reasons for circumcising (cleanliness, infection, std's, cancer, etc.), and plenty of responses borne from cultural conditioning (it looks like an anteater, women won't want to be with him, it's icky, etc.), but I've done my research and I know that infant circumcision is completely unnecessary, and unethical to boot. It doesn't fall into the realm of "parental choice," anyway, for many reasons. Again, I've already blogged about this, so check that out if you want to know more about my reasoning. It will not be happening to my son, unless he needs or wants it done someday.
Well, there you have it. I'm a future home birther who will be keeping her son intact. I really don't care if anyone disagrees, because these weren't decisions made lightly. I know what I'm talking about, I've done years' worth of research on both subjects, and I'm confident in my (and my husband's) scientifically validated choices. I'm happy to answer any questions and talk about my choices, as always. :-)
The first choice is about my pregnancy and birth: I'm planning a home birth with a midwife. I'm fully expecting to get responses like, "But what it something goes wrong?" or, "Do you WANT to die?" or "How selfish of you to risk your/your baby's life!" and so on. And I have answers for ALL of those statements/questions and more.
It can be summed up pretty simply; science is in favor of home birth for healthy, low-risk women having healthy, low-risk babies. (And that's only one study. There are many, many more. I address that in one of my points in this blog post.) My son and I fit into that category. The likelihood of any complications whatsoever in a normal birth is minuscule, especially for me since I already have two healthy, uncomplicated vaginal births under my belt. Beyond that, within that minuscule likelihood of complications, the chances of those complications being life-threatening are tiny. And, the chances that there wouldn't be enough warning before things became dangerous to give us time to call an ambulance and/or get to the hospital are even smaller. Additionally, midwives, whether CNM or CPM, come with oxygen and pitocin (only to stop hemorrhaging, not to induce or augment labor) and other medications to prevent and treat problems, and the knowledge of how to spot red flags and to handle emergencies. Given that the c-section and induction rates in America are 1 in 3, the vast majority of births these days take place in hospitals, and America ranks last among developed countries in maternal/fetal outcomes, giving birth in the hospital really doesn't seem like the safest choice for someone like me.
So, why is it that I'm choosing a home birth? Besides the fact that it's scientifically proven to be just as safe as (if not safer than) a hospital birth for a mom like me?
I want a natural, relaxed childbirth where I am in comfortable and in control. The best way to make that happen is to hire a midwife I "click" with and build a relationship with her, and give birth in my home rather than leaving. I want to eat and drink in labor if I feel like it. I want to be able to get in the shower or bath, or walk around, or sit on my ball, or lean on a wall, or lie in bed, whatever my body needs at the time! I want all the unnecessary rules and restrictions (iv, continuous monitoring, staying in bed, pushing on my back, staying in my room, having to bring things like a ball if I want them, not having access to food and drink, limited access to water, bright lights, nurses coming in and out of the room and "checking" me, etc.) out of the picture. I'm very primal when I give birth, and I prefer to be left alone in a dark and quiet space (preferably my shower), and hospitals just don't offer that. Evidence supports "allowing" women to follow their instincts, whatever they may be, to facilitate a physiological labor, and most hospitals just don't follow the current evidence.
Then there's the fact that my last labor was only 4 hours long, and likely would have been faster if I had stayed at home. My contractions stalled when I got in the car to head to the hospital, I couldn't relax and instead tensed against them (making the pain worse) in the ER and L&D triage, so I panicked and requested an epidural (which never worked anyway), and then when everyone left the room I relaxed and dilated completely and my body naturally began to push. What if those 2 hours I spent in transit and getting checked into the hospital hadn't happened? What if I had stayed home instead, standing in my shower and swaying through contractions like I wanted to? What if, there in my comfort zone, I had relaxed fully and allowed my body to dilate as it wanted, uninterrupted? My labor may have only been 2 hours long, not 4. My daughter might have turned from posterior to anterior position, I might have been able to push in a better position than on my side in bed (at least I wasn't on my back), and I might not have torn at all. So many things could have been more like what I wanted.
Along with the fact that my labor might be faster and easier for me at home, there's also the concern that I won't make it to the hospital in time. This is my third baby, and with such a short labor last time, it's pretty likely that this one could come even more quickly. I would much rather prepare for a home birth and have all the knowledge and supplies on hand and end up with an accidental unassisted birth (if the midwife can't get here fast enough), than to plan a birth outside my house, have no birth supplies on hand, and either give birth at home by accident or have my baby in the car on the way somewhere! Plus, my husband would really like to help catch this baby, which is not something that's usually supported in hospitals. Our midwife, however, will happily step back and let him catch once baby's head is out (she wants to support my perineum to reduce the likelihood of tearing), and she's even going to talk to him about how to deliver in case she doesn't get here in time, and how to handle things like a nuchal cord. Definitely not something we'd get in a hospital birth.
Another reason is that I want to recover my own way, in my home. I hated staying in the hospital after birth. I hated that my baby had to leave me and go to the nursery, even if it wasn't for long. I hated that I had to put her in the little plastic bassinet in order to walk the halls with her, instead of carrying her like I wanted. I hated the nurses telling me I couldn't sleep with my baby on my chest (the only way she would sleep). I hated being woken to have my vitals checked every 2 hours, when I was fine. I hated the mandatory iv. I hated the smell, the artificial lights, the dry air, the uncomfortable bed, the food, the rules...none of it felt right, and none of it was necessary. I want to give birth, bond with my baby as long as I want before newborn exams happen, to have the newborn exams happen right in front of me, to take a shower in MY bathroom, to eat if I feel like it, and to settle into my own bed to nurse and cosleep with my newborn, with my husband and daughters right there with me. No beeping monitors, no restrictions on visitors, no uncomfortable pullout couch for my husband, no nurses poking at us all the time, no hospital food, no lengthy checkout process, no driving home with a newborn who should be cuddling and bonding with me, nothing that I don't want. Again, that's not going to happen in a hospital.
After doing all my research, and spending the first half of my pregnancy planning to birth in a freestanding birth center, I realized I was stressed and unhappy because it wasn't going to be a home birth. I was worried about making it to the birth center in time. My care felt very clinical and just like hospital-based care, not at all the relaxed, personalized care I wanted. I didn't like the labor tubs. I didn't like that I'd have to bring my own food. I didn't like that I'd have to leave around 6 hours after birth with a brand-new baby, without really resting and bonding with my baby like I should be at that point. I. Just. Wasn't. Happy. I finally did what I advise other moms to do do all the time when they aren't happy with their care: I switched providers. I found a home birth midwife (and a very dear friend of mine is one of her assistants!!) that I adore, and suddenly my blood pressure is back to normal, I'm excited about this birth, and I'm enjoying what might be my last pregnancy. I'm happy. My husband is relieved and happy, too, and we're so looking forward to meeting our son for the first time in our own home.
This brings me to my second controversial choice, which involves my son: we will not be circumcising him. I've already made my feelings on this subject clear in my previous post on this blog. Unless it becomes an indisputable medical necessity, no part of my son's body will be amputated, thank you very much. Again, I fully expect backlash in the form of inaccurate and outdated reasons for circumcising (cleanliness, infection, std's, cancer, etc.), and plenty of responses borne from cultural conditioning (it looks like an anteater, women won't want to be with him, it's icky, etc.), but I've done my research and I know that infant circumcision is completely unnecessary, and unethical to boot. It doesn't fall into the realm of "parental choice," anyway, for many reasons. Again, I've already blogged about this, so check that out if you want to know more about my reasoning. It will not be happening to my son, unless he needs or wants it done someday.
Well, there you have it. I'm a future home birther who will be keeping her son intact. I really don't care if anyone disagrees, because these weren't decisions made lightly. I know what I'm talking about, I've done years' worth of research on both subjects, and I'm confident in my (and my husband's) scientifically validated choices. I'm happy to answer any questions and talk about my choices, as always. :-)
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