After I gave birth to Isaiah two-and-a-half years ago, the advice I heard most often was, "Enjoy every minute of it. You blink, and they're all grown up."
I decided after hearing this over and over that there was only one solution to looking back and feeling like your kids had grown up too fast: don't blink. I became super-conscious and super-attached to Isaiah. I wore him next to my heart in a sling, and spent many days going at his pace rather than mine. The result was a wonderful feeling of connection with my son, and the feeling that there was not a lot of wasted time between us. He was -- and still is -- my little sidekick, and every day is a new day for us.
I'm trying not to blink with Milo, either, but somehow these first four weeks have passed much, much too quickly. I feel like he should be two weeks old, not almost five, as I hurtle through time towards my return to work.
But, he is four weeks, almost five, and the proof is in something wonderful that happened yesterday: Milo smiled for the first time.
And then he did it again and again in the mirror of my wide open eyes.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Growth Spurts
Our family went through a giant growth spurt last Wednesday. We grew from three to four, of course, when Milo was born. I sensed, the next morning as the sun came out for Milo's first full day, that our family story had not only added another chapter, but that all the other chapters before would have new meaning when we looked back. I thought about the common memories my sisters and I have that have turned into family lore, as well as all the stories we heard about our parents' families growing up together. I felt great joy that my family had expanded and that Isaiah and Milo would soon have their own common memories.
It also seemed as if Isaiah suddenly got taller, smarter, and more independent the day his little brother was born. His legs look longer, his feet so big. He can now get up on our bed all by himself when he wants to see his little brother. He is talking up a storm -- more than usual -- and riding his little car around the house pretending he is visiting various places that he knows.
My growth spurt was less tangible, but no less immediate and raw. It was born out of that roller coaster of post-partum hormonal weeping that occurs when a mother's milk comes in. It began with tears over the fact that I wasn't pregnant anymore. I never thought I would miss being pregnant, but I kept so busy up until Milo's birth, that I never got time to be sick of it like I had with Isaiah. And actually, I had made a decision not to be sick of it when I went on partial bedrest back in January. At that time, my midwife had said, "You need to figure out what the universe and your body are trying to tell you." I decided then that I needed to be thankful for the pregnancy, and to cherish it. That made it harder when I looked down at my belly the morning after Milo was born and saw that it had shrunk even from the night before. Stepping on the scale and seeing such a low number never felt so bad.
Mourning over the pregnancy led me to mourn all the other things I seemed to be losing even as I gained a precious son. I would no longer have my wonderful prenatal visits with the midwives. I would no longer need to listen to my hypnobirthing c.d. which put me in such a deep state of relaxation. I would no longer be visualizing the perfect birth at home. And, the kicker: my amazing journey through Laborland, culminating with the birth of Milo into the water and those sweet sweet first hours he spent with us, was over and could never happen again.
I felt these things so heavily in the days after he was born, that I feared when I saw Rachel on Monday for my five day post-partum visit that I would just cry through the whole thing. Instead, I remembered what she had said about figuring out what the message was for me in this experience.
I realized that there are few things in my life that are sacred and nurturing to my spirit because I don't make an effort to seek them out. Both of my pregnancies gave me the perfect opportunity to take time for myself to reflect and focus on what is really important in my life, but in between I fell back into old patterns of living. This time I want to try to continue on this road of connection. Some people go to church for this, but I don't feel church calling me. I'm going to start gong to La Leche League meetings and try out the Mother's Support Network, both of which tend to attract people who are conscious and mindful of their childrearing and social responsibilities.
And hopefully, by connecting with other mommies, I can keep the spirit and power of the amazing birth of my second child, Milo, in my life. Thank you so so much, little one.
It also seemed as if Isaiah suddenly got taller, smarter, and more independent the day his little brother was born. His legs look longer, his feet so big. He can now get up on our bed all by himself when he wants to see his little brother. He is talking up a storm -- more than usual -- and riding his little car around the house pretending he is visiting various places that he knows.
My growth spurt was less tangible, but no less immediate and raw. It was born out of that roller coaster of post-partum hormonal weeping that occurs when a mother's milk comes in. It began with tears over the fact that I wasn't pregnant anymore. I never thought I would miss being pregnant, but I kept so busy up until Milo's birth, that I never got time to be sick of it like I had with Isaiah. And actually, I had made a decision not to be sick of it when I went on partial bedrest back in January. At that time, my midwife had said, "You need to figure out what the universe and your body are trying to tell you." I decided then that I needed to be thankful for the pregnancy, and to cherish it. That made it harder when I looked down at my belly the morning after Milo was born and saw that it had shrunk even from the night before. Stepping on the scale and seeing such a low number never felt so bad.
Mourning over the pregnancy led me to mourn all the other things I seemed to be losing even as I gained a precious son. I would no longer have my wonderful prenatal visits with the midwives. I would no longer need to listen to my hypnobirthing c.d. which put me in such a deep state of relaxation. I would no longer be visualizing the perfect birth at home. And, the kicker: my amazing journey through Laborland, culminating with the birth of Milo into the water and those sweet sweet first hours he spent with us, was over and could never happen again.
I felt these things so heavily in the days after he was born, that I feared when I saw Rachel on Monday for my five day post-partum visit that I would just cry through the whole thing. Instead, I remembered what she had said about figuring out what the message was for me in this experience.
I realized that there are few things in my life that are sacred and nurturing to my spirit because I don't make an effort to seek them out. Both of my pregnancies gave me the perfect opportunity to take time for myself to reflect and focus on what is really important in my life, but in between I fell back into old patterns of living. This time I want to try to continue on this road of connection. Some people go to church for this, but I don't feel church calling me. I'm going to start gong to La Leche League meetings and try out the Mother's Support Network, both of which tend to attract people who are conscious and mindful of their childrearing and social responsibilities.
And hopefully, by connecting with other mommies, I can keep the spirit and power of the amazing birth of my second child, Milo, in my life. Thank you so so much, little one.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Milo's Birth Story
Birth is amazing. Giving birth at home was amazing and felt wonderfully normal. On February 7th, 2007 all the planning and preparation I had done over the last nine months with my body, my mind, my midwives, and my family came together and my second beautiful baby boy was born.
Tuesday, February 6th was a busy day for me. I went to Isaiah's school just to see him in action, headed off to work to tie up some loose ends in my classroom, and came home just in time to eat half a sandwich before Rachel, the midwife I have been closest with during my pregnancy, showed up for my appointment. As she left, she mentioned that the rain was supposed to move in the next day, and I commented that a storm system had kicked off my labor with Isaiah. After she left, I rested a bit, and then picked up Isaiah and ran some errands. By the time we got home, I felt like I had hit a brick wall. I ordered pizza and let Isaiah eat in front of the t.v. so I could lay on the couch.
Josh was home by 7, and I dragged myself to bed shortly after he arrived. In my bed, I read Isaiah one of the books about newborns that Rachel had left that afternoon. I didn't even have enough energy to turn on my hypnobirthing c.d, which I usually listen to before bed. I just crashed.
When Josh came to bed, around 10:30, I woke up, feeling kind of crampy and regretting having eaten pizza for dinner. At 1 A.M. I was up again, and felt that I couldn't sleep in our bed. I moved to the couch and tossed and turned. I remember thinking, "What am I going to do tomorrow? I don't have any plans." Usually when I have a day off, I have a bunch of activities planned for myself, but it hit me at that moment that I had a blank slate on Wednesday. I got up off the couch to go to the bathroom and felt a little bit of liquid come out. Exasperated (this had been happening frequently over the last few days and I was going through underwear like crazy) I made a little toilet paper pad, stuck it in my underwear, and decided to try going back to sleep in the bed.
At 3 A.M. I woke up again, needing to pee, and felt another mini-sploosh. When I went to the bathroom I noticed that the toilet paper was tinged pink. I had the same reaction that I had when I saw that positive pregnancy test back in May -- disbelief! When I came out of the bathroom, Josh was awake and asked if everything was alright. I told him that things were starting to happen and that I was really going to try to rest in case they happened soon.
Throughout the next hour, the crampiness I had felt the night before felt a little stronger, and I decided at around 4 A.M. that I should go put in my grades for progress reports because I knew I wouldn't want to do it after the baby came, and I felt like the baby really was coming soon!
By 6 A.M. I was having distinct contractions, no longer just crampiness. I practiced thinking of the contractions as waves lapping up on a beach, and that was very relaxing. Timing them, I found that they were six to nine minutes apart, but they were very mild. I called Rachel at 6:45 to let her know what was going on, and she told me that she had appointments in my area all morning and that she could come in a moment's notice if I needed her. I then called my sister to let her know we would need her to pick up Isaiah from preschoool at some point during the day.
Before Josh took Isaiah to school, I told Isaiah that Milo was coming today. I asked him if he wanted to see the baby be born or if we should wait until after he was born to go pick him up from school. We had been preparing Isaiah to see his baby brother's birth with books and videos, and up until that point he had seemed excited to see it, but I wasn't sure how he would feel now that the actual event was so close at hand. Isaiah said, without hesitation, "See him be born." Thinking that things would go quickly, I worried that my sister might need to wake him up from his nap at preschool so that he could be home for the birth, but figured it would all work out.
The rest of the morning was very mellow. I set out a few candles, and tidied up the room. I walked around the birth tub, and took in all the wonderful colors I had purposely put around the room over the last few months as I prepared my "birth suite." I kept timing my contractions, which were very gradually getting stronger, but were staying four to six minutes apart. I felt like I was handling them better than I had when I was in labor with Isaiah, but couldn't be sure if they were actually just milder. Rachel called at around 11:30 and asked if I thought she should come over. I told her I really wasn't sure. I didn't feel like I needed help at that point, but I was worried about her going to her next appointment, which was 40 minutes away in the opposite direction. She decided she would go get lunch and then come over.
When Rachel arrived around 1 P.M. I was still having mild contractions that I could talk through, even though I preferred to stop talking. The conversation she, Josh, and I were having was kind of funny because if it was my turn to talk and a contraction came along, we would pause and they would get quiet with me, and then we would start up where we left off. Rachel started to make notes in my "Labor Record," which I'm so thankful to have because later I lost track of time.
Just before 2 P.M. we watched a video of some water births, and then I walked around outside with Josh to try to get things going. After walking for about half an hour, the contractions were about four minutes apart, but still very mild. We went back inside to our room, and I turned on some Native American flute music that my best friend had used during her homebirth. I tried to get centered. I made a giant pillow pile on my bed so that I could do supported kneeling during contractions and rest on the pillows in between. I listened to the music while Josh rubbed my back and shoulders, focusing on the sounds of water in the background of the music to help me stay relaxed.
Around 3:30, Rachel came into the room to see how I was doing. She had just taken a nap. She didn't do a vaginal exam, since I had tested positive for Group B Strep, and we didn't want to do anything unnecessary that might increase the baby's risk of infection. I felt a little guilty that I had asked her to come so early because I still didn't feel like the contractions could be doing much work. I did recognize that I was feeling a little less inhibited at working through the contractions with her there, though. I was getting a little louder. She asked if I wanted something to eat, and I said yes. Josh fed me an energy bar, and gave me some Gatorade to sip on and everything tasted so, so good.
I started watching the clock a little bit after 4 P.M. and noted that I definitely wasn't going to have the baby by the time my sister picked Isaiah up from preschool. Josh called her and asked her to take him to the bookstore, toy store, and out for dinner before coming back, and told her we would call her if anything happened sooner. I was so happy knowing that she would be taking care of Isaiah because he loves spending time with her, and I knew he wouldn't be anxious. I decided at that point that I really needed to get things moving!
I kept listening to the flute music and kneeling on my bed to open up my pelvis and cervix. Every time a contraction came, I still tried to think of waves, but also told my myself, "This is what I want." I was hoping this would make my body relax and let go of any fear of what was to come. The contractions finally started coming stronger and in between I rested on the pillow mountain. I noticed that I was starting to have to peel myself off of the pillows after each contraction. By this time it was about 5:30 and, according to my Labor Record, the contractions were three minutes apart. I decided to try standing through the contractions while listening to hypnobirthing and leaning on Josh. We danced through each one.
There is a part in the hypnobirthing meditation in which the speaker says to picture yourself stepping into "the most magnificent color of yellow," and then walks you through the change to "green, the color of new life." "You feel more and more relaxed, calm and confident," he continues. When I heard this, I became totally overwhelmed by the moment. I felt euphoric and began to cry with joy that I would soon have another little boy and that the process of him arriving was so amazing. Josh rubbed my back and Rachel came over and rubbed my other arm. I wanted to express what I was feeling and my gratitude to them, but I just didn't have the words, I was so overwhelmed. Finally I told them, "It's ok, I feel really good."
After that round of hypnobirthing, Rachel asked if I would like her to fill up the tub. This was really encouraging, since I knew that she didn't offer the tub until she thought someone was in more active labor. I told her yes, and then returned to the bed for more kneeling contractions, repeating the thought, "This is what I want," while I "ahhhed" my way through each intense contraction and watched Rachel fill the tub. By this time it was about 6:00. I asked for something to eat and had a little bit of a protein drink, which turned out not to be a good choice because I felt nauseous shortly thereafter.
Just before 7 P.M., I stepped into the tub, which was heavenly. The warm water took away a lot of the intensity I had been feeling throughout my body when I was on the bed. Rachel said, "I haven't checked you, so I just want you to do what your body tells you to." After a few minutes in the tub, I actually worried that I was too relaxed and that I was not making any progress, but the intensity returned fairly quickly. Josh got in the tub with me for a while, but then I had to ask him to get out, so I could turn sideways and get my pelvis really open. I really wanted that baby out soon! With each contraction I held on to the edge of the tub and squatted. As a contraction ended, I would let myself rock back into more of a sitting position in the water. Rachel got a cold washcloth and patted my face with it gently.
I started feeling a little discouraged and pouty because, it seemed like, pretty quickly, my contractions were spacing out again (even though they were still really strong). I thought about asking Rachel to check me, but knew it wasn't a good idea. I kept going back in forth in my mind thinking, "If you're really discouraged, you're probably in transition," and, "That would be nice, but probably you have a long ways to go." Josh kept telling me I was doing a great job and how proud of me he was. When Rachel got the mirror ready nearby I felt totally encouraged, even though she hadn't said anything. I asked her if she could put some lavendar oil on the wash rag so I could smell it because it really realxed me. Instead, she sprayed some in the air, which was awesome because it suddenly smelled like my room was a spa!
I heard Isaiah come home with my sister and hoped that he was o.k. hearing me make a lot of noise. Some of my "ahhs" were sounding kind of siren like to me at this point! Rachel suggested that I switch to low "ohh" sounds. "Soft, stretchy, and open," she said. I was thankful to have direction at this point, so I did exactly what she said, and pretty soon one of my "ohhhhs" was interrupted by an "uhh" when I felt pressure. According to my Labor Record, this happened at 7:50 P.M.
I kept kneeling and holding on to the edge of the birth tub. Rachel commented that it sounded like I was bearing down, and I said that I wasn't really doing anything, but that if I tried to stop it felt uncomfortable. She said to go ahead and let it go then. I had a few more contractions without the pressure feeling and then things started happening really fast.
A few strong "uhhs" from me made Rachel run to get the other midwife, Claudia, who had arrived a little while earlier. I could feel the baby moving down the birth canal forcefully and then felt a pop in the water -- my membranes. With the next contraction, Rachel told me reach down and feel the babies head. On the one after that, Claudia said I should pant to keep him from coming to fast, which would probably make me tear. I panted away, but he still came down. It felt like his head was halfway in and halfway out, and I said, "He can't stay there!" which makes me laugh now. As the contraction ended, his head went back inside, and on the next one, Rachel, who was behind me, started listing all the parts she could see coming down. In one contraction I heard, "Forehead, ears, mouth, chin." Another one and the shoulders were out, Milo was down into the water, and Rachel floated him forward to me so I could pick him up out of the water. It was 8:26 P.M. and Milo let out a cry.
Rachel ran to get my sister and Isaiah. Isaiah giggled when he saw the baby and kept repeating, "Baby Milo is here. That's my baby brother." Milo was clean and slippery, just like I remembered Isaiah being and he had the same golden-colored hair. After a few minutes Claudia helped me and it out of the tub and into my bed (which was well-protected). They left Milo's cord attached to the placenta for a while so he could keep receiving nourishment from it and he started nursing right away. I was amazed, since I had remembered it taking a while for Isaiah to get a hang of nursing. The other thing I thought was so amazing was how soft Milo's feet were and how he was already opening his eyes.
Over the next couple of hours, the midwives helped me get cleaned up, and they checked out Milo. He was 8 lbs 13 oz and 21 inches long. They brought in a birthday "cake" which was a platter of sliced apples, bread, and cheese with a candle in the middle and sang "Happy Birthday" to Milo. It was such a wonderful and nourishing surprise. Isaiah sat with us on the bed for a while as we snacked and cooed over the baby. I felt exhausted, but full of bliss that our family was all together in our home at last in the minutes and hours following Milo's birth.
Tuesday, February 6th was a busy day for me. I went to Isaiah's school just to see him in action, headed off to work to tie up some loose ends in my classroom, and came home just in time to eat half a sandwich before Rachel, the midwife I have been closest with during my pregnancy, showed up for my appointment. As she left, she mentioned that the rain was supposed to move in the next day, and I commented that a storm system had kicked off my labor with Isaiah. After she left, I rested a bit, and then picked up Isaiah and ran some errands. By the time we got home, I felt like I had hit a brick wall. I ordered pizza and let Isaiah eat in front of the t.v. so I could lay on the couch.
Josh was home by 7, and I dragged myself to bed shortly after he arrived. In my bed, I read Isaiah one of the books about newborns that Rachel had left that afternoon. I didn't even have enough energy to turn on my hypnobirthing c.d, which I usually listen to before bed. I just crashed.
When Josh came to bed, around 10:30, I woke up, feeling kind of crampy and regretting having eaten pizza for dinner. At 1 A.M. I was up again, and felt that I couldn't sleep in our bed. I moved to the couch and tossed and turned. I remember thinking, "What am I going to do tomorrow? I don't have any plans." Usually when I have a day off, I have a bunch of activities planned for myself, but it hit me at that moment that I had a blank slate on Wednesday. I got up off the couch to go to the bathroom and felt a little bit of liquid come out. Exasperated (this had been happening frequently over the last few days and I was going through underwear like crazy) I made a little toilet paper pad, stuck it in my underwear, and decided to try going back to sleep in the bed.
At 3 A.M. I woke up again, needing to pee, and felt another mini-sploosh. When I went to the bathroom I noticed that the toilet paper was tinged pink. I had the same reaction that I had when I saw that positive pregnancy test back in May -- disbelief! When I came out of the bathroom, Josh was awake and asked if everything was alright. I told him that things were starting to happen and that I was really going to try to rest in case they happened soon.
Throughout the next hour, the crampiness I had felt the night before felt a little stronger, and I decided at around 4 A.M. that I should go put in my grades for progress reports because I knew I wouldn't want to do it after the baby came, and I felt like the baby really was coming soon!
By 6 A.M. I was having distinct contractions, no longer just crampiness. I practiced thinking of the contractions as waves lapping up on a beach, and that was very relaxing. Timing them, I found that they were six to nine minutes apart, but they were very mild. I called Rachel at 6:45 to let her know what was going on, and she told me that she had appointments in my area all morning and that she could come in a moment's notice if I needed her. I then called my sister to let her know we would need her to pick up Isaiah from preschoool at some point during the day.
Before Josh took Isaiah to school, I told Isaiah that Milo was coming today. I asked him if he wanted to see the baby be born or if we should wait until after he was born to go pick him up from school. We had been preparing Isaiah to see his baby brother's birth with books and videos, and up until that point he had seemed excited to see it, but I wasn't sure how he would feel now that the actual event was so close at hand. Isaiah said, without hesitation, "See him be born." Thinking that things would go quickly, I worried that my sister might need to wake him up from his nap at preschool so that he could be home for the birth, but figured it would all work out.
The rest of the morning was very mellow. I set out a few candles, and tidied up the room. I walked around the birth tub, and took in all the wonderful colors I had purposely put around the room over the last few months as I prepared my "birth suite." I kept timing my contractions, which were very gradually getting stronger, but were staying four to six minutes apart. I felt like I was handling them better than I had when I was in labor with Isaiah, but couldn't be sure if they were actually just milder. Rachel called at around 11:30 and asked if I thought she should come over. I told her I really wasn't sure. I didn't feel like I needed help at that point, but I was worried about her going to her next appointment, which was 40 minutes away in the opposite direction. She decided she would go get lunch and then come over.
When Rachel arrived around 1 P.M. I was still having mild contractions that I could talk through, even though I preferred to stop talking. The conversation she, Josh, and I were having was kind of funny because if it was my turn to talk and a contraction came along, we would pause and they would get quiet with me, and then we would start up where we left off. Rachel started to make notes in my "Labor Record," which I'm so thankful to have because later I lost track of time.
Just before 2 P.M. we watched a video of some water births, and then I walked around outside with Josh to try to get things going. After walking for about half an hour, the contractions were about four minutes apart, but still very mild. We went back inside to our room, and I turned on some Native American flute music that my best friend had used during her homebirth. I tried to get centered. I made a giant pillow pile on my bed so that I could do supported kneeling during contractions and rest on the pillows in between. I listened to the music while Josh rubbed my back and shoulders, focusing on the sounds of water in the background of the music to help me stay relaxed.
Around 3:30, Rachel came into the room to see how I was doing. She had just taken a nap. She didn't do a vaginal exam, since I had tested positive for Group B Strep, and we didn't want to do anything unnecessary that might increase the baby's risk of infection. I felt a little guilty that I had asked her to come so early because I still didn't feel like the contractions could be doing much work. I did recognize that I was feeling a little less inhibited at working through the contractions with her there, though. I was getting a little louder. She asked if I wanted something to eat, and I said yes. Josh fed me an energy bar, and gave me some Gatorade to sip on and everything tasted so, so good.
I started watching the clock a little bit after 4 P.M. and noted that I definitely wasn't going to have the baby by the time my sister picked Isaiah up from preschool. Josh called her and asked her to take him to the bookstore, toy store, and out for dinner before coming back, and told her we would call her if anything happened sooner. I was so happy knowing that she would be taking care of Isaiah because he loves spending time with her, and I knew he wouldn't be anxious. I decided at that point that I really needed to get things moving!
I kept listening to the flute music and kneeling on my bed to open up my pelvis and cervix. Every time a contraction came, I still tried to think of waves, but also told my myself, "This is what I want." I was hoping this would make my body relax and let go of any fear of what was to come. The contractions finally started coming stronger and in between I rested on the pillow mountain. I noticed that I was starting to have to peel myself off of the pillows after each contraction. By this time it was about 5:30 and, according to my Labor Record, the contractions were three minutes apart. I decided to try standing through the contractions while listening to hypnobirthing and leaning on Josh. We danced through each one.
There is a part in the hypnobirthing meditation in which the speaker says to picture yourself stepping into "the most magnificent color of yellow," and then walks you through the change to "green, the color of new life." "You feel more and more relaxed, calm and confident," he continues. When I heard this, I became totally overwhelmed by the moment. I felt euphoric and began to cry with joy that I would soon have another little boy and that the process of him arriving was so amazing. Josh rubbed my back and Rachel came over and rubbed my other arm. I wanted to express what I was feeling and my gratitude to them, but I just didn't have the words, I was so overwhelmed. Finally I told them, "It's ok, I feel really good."
After that round of hypnobirthing, Rachel asked if I would like her to fill up the tub. This was really encouraging, since I knew that she didn't offer the tub until she thought someone was in more active labor. I told her yes, and then returned to the bed for more kneeling contractions, repeating the thought, "This is what I want," while I "ahhhed" my way through each intense contraction and watched Rachel fill the tub. By this time it was about 6:00. I asked for something to eat and had a little bit of a protein drink, which turned out not to be a good choice because I felt nauseous shortly thereafter.
Just before 7 P.M., I stepped into the tub, which was heavenly. The warm water took away a lot of the intensity I had been feeling throughout my body when I was on the bed. Rachel said, "I haven't checked you, so I just want you to do what your body tells you to." After a few minutes in the tub, I actually worried that I was too relaxed and that I was not making any progress, but the intensity returned fairly quickly. Josh got in the tub with me for a while, but then I had to ask him to get out, so I could turn sideways and get my pelvis really open. I really wanted that baby out soon! With each contraction I held on to the edge of the tub and squatted. As a contraction ended, I would let myself rock back into more of a sitting position in the water. Rachel got a cold washcloth and patted my face with it gently.
I started feeling a little discouraged and pouty because, it seemed like, pretty quickly, my contractions were spacing out again (even though they were still really strong). I thought about asking Rachel to check me, but knew it wasn't a good idea. I kept going back in forth in my mind thinking, "If you're really discouraged, you're probably in transition," and, "That would be nice, but probably you have a long ways to go." Josh kept telling me I was doing a great job and how proud of me he was. When Rachel got the mirror ready nearby I felt totally encouraged, even though she hadn't said anything. I asked her if she could put some lavendar oil on the wash rag so I could smell it because it really realxed me. Instead, she sprayed some in the air, which was awesome because it suddenly smelled like my room was a spa!
I heard Isaiah come home with my sister and hoped that he was o.k. hearing me make a lot of noise. Some of my "ahhs" were sounding kind of siren like to me at this point! Rachel suggested that I switch to low "ohh" sounds. "Soft, stretchy, and open," she said. I was thankful to have direction at this point, so I did exactly what she said, and pretty soon one of my "ohhhhs" was interrupted by an "uhh" when I felt pressure. According to my Labor Record, this happened at 7:50 P.M.
I kept kneeling and holding on to the edge of the birth tub. Rachel commented that it sounded like I was bearing down, and I said that I wasn't really doing anything, but that if I tried to stop it felt uncomfortable. She said to go ahead and let it go then. I had a few more contractions without the pressure feeling and then things started happening really fast.
A few strong "uhhs" from me made Rachel run to get the other midwife, Claudia, who had arrived a little while earlier. I could feel the baby moving down the birth canal forcefully and then felt a pop in the water -- my membranes. With the next contraction, Rachel told me reach down and feel the babies head. On the one after that, Claudia said I should pant to keep him from coming to fast, which would probably make me tear. I panted away, but he still came down. It felt like his head was halfway in and halfway out, and I said, "He can't stay there!" which makes me laugh now. As the contraction ended, his head went back inside, and on the next one, Rachel, who was behind me, started listing all the parts she could see coming down. In one contraction I heard, "Forehead, ears, mouth, chin." Another one and the shoulders were out, Milo was down into the water, and Rachel floated him forward to me so I could pick him up out of the water. It was 8:26 P.M. and Milo let out a cry.
Rachel ran to get my sister and Isaiah. Isaiah giggled when he saw the baby and kept repeating, "Baby Milo is here. That's my baby brother." Milo was clean and slippery, just like I remembered Isaiah being and he had the same golden-colored hair. After a few minutes Claudia helped me and it out of the tub and into my bed (which was well-protected). They left Milo's cord attached to the placenta for a while so he could keep receiving nourishment from it and he started nursing right away. I was amazed, since I had remembered it taking a while for Isaiah to get a hang of nursing. The other thing I thought was so amazing was how soft Milo's feet were and how he was already opening his eyes.
Over the next couple of hours, the midwives helped me get cleaned up, and they checked out Milo. He was 8 lbs 13 oz and 21 inches long. They brought in a birthday "cake" which was a platter of sliced apples, bread, and cheese with a candle in the middle and sang "Happy Birthday" to Milo. It was such a wonderful and nourishing surprise. Isaiah sat with us on the bed for a while as we snacked and cooed over the baby. I felt exhausted, but full of bliss that our family was all together in our home at last in the minutes and hours following Milo's birth.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Bumps in the Road
You know the old saying, "It's like riding a bike"?
Lately I've been feeling like this pregnancy is kind of like riding a bike that has been sitting in a garage, cobwebs gathering in the spokes, chain starting to rust. The brakes are a little loose. I feel the bumps a little more. And that rusty chain feels like it might just come off. Not that I am not thrilled and thankful that I am pregnant -- it doesn't happen for everyone, and there is only a relatively short period in a woman's life that she can carry a child.
It's just that my pregnancy with Isaiah was the definition of easy. I had very little morning sickness and passed all the "tests" that women are given along the way, so I had no medical worries. I stopped teaching at the beginning of the third trimester because it coincided with the end of the school year, so I had plenty of time to rest in the final weeks before I gave birth.
This pregnancy, on the other hand, has had a few more challenges, starting at 33 weeks when I began having signs that I might go into labor earlier than I should. That required bed rest and had me up at night worrying about having a premature baby. Then I pulled a muscle in my abdomen, which resulted in a burning sensation every time I sneezed, coughed, or laughed. It also meant I really needed to stop picking up isaiah, . And the latest sign that this ride would not be as smooth as the last one -- the news that I had a bacteria called Group B Strep, which current medical practice says is a ticket to the hospital for IV antibiotics during labor.
Since I plan to give birth at home, this was not welcome news, but, of course, the health of my baby is my foremost concern. When my midwives found out about the positive test, they started me on a homeopathic regimen to rid my body of the bacteria. They also informed me of the risks, but in a way that was not as black and white as it was presented in the hospital. I started doing my own research as well.
What I found out is that my baby and I have a lot working in our favor. First, the homeopathic regimen recommended by my midwives is often successful. In addition, I am past 37 weeks, my labor with Isaiah went relatively fast (meaning if my water breaks first, I will probably give birth in less than 18 hours), and at the time of the test the bacteria had not advanced to my urinary tract. Another surprising thing I have working in my favor is that I don't plan to be in the hospital during labor. Vaginal exams and artificial rupture of membranes can both give the bacteria a way to get closer to the baby and increase the risk of infection. I've also learned from reading and from talking to a scientist who refreshed me on some basic biology, that if you use antibiotics you kill off everything, including beneficial bacteria, so you may be making way for other possibly more harmful bacteria to take their place. The immune systems of both the mother and the baby play a part in whether or not an infection will take place and future infections could occur in the baby if it is not given a chance to get the mother's antibodies because all of her bacteria was killed off during labor.
Deciding whether or not to receive antibiotics is far from a roll of the dice, as I had originally thought it was. While I still haven't made up my mind (my results from a second round of testing will come back Thursday, and reveal another factor: whether or not the bacteria is gone, and if still present, how colonized it is) I am so glad that I learned from my first pregnancy to investigate all aspects of pregnancy, labor, and birth so that I don't have to make this decision out of fear.
In other words, the bumps in the road have certainly gotten my attention, but they aren't going to make me get off the bike.
Lately I've been feeling like this pregnancy is kind of like riding a bike that has been sitting in a garage, cobwebs gathering in the spokes, chain starting to rust. The brakes are a little loose. I feel the bumps a little more. And that rusty chain feels like it might just come off. Not that I am not thrilled and thankful that I am pregnant -- it doesn't happen for everyone, and there is only a relatively short period in a woman's life that she can carry a child.
It's just that my pregnancy with Isaiah was the definition of easy. I had very little morning sickness and passed all the "tests" that women are given along the way, so I had no medical worries. I stopped teaching at the beginning of the third trimester because it coincided with the end of the school year, so I had plenty of time to rest in the final weeks before I gave birth.
This pregnancy, on the other hand, has had a few more challenges, starting at 33 weeks when I began having signs that I might go into labor earlier than I should. That required bed rest and had me up at night worrying about having a premature baby. Then I pulled a muscle in my abdomen, which resulted in a burning sensation every time I sneezed, coughed, or laughed. It also meant I really needed to stop picking up isaiah, . And the latest sign that this ride would not be as smooth as the last one -- the news that I had a bacteria called Group B Strep, which current medical practice says is a ticket to the hospital for IV antibiotics during labor.
Since I plan to give birth at home, this was not welcome news, but, of course, the health of my baby is my foremost concern. When my midwives found out about the positive test, they started me on a homeopathic regimen to rid my body of the bacteria. They also informed me of the risks, but in a way that was not as black and white as it was presented in the hospital. I started doing my own research as well.
What I found out is that my baby and I have a lot working in our favor. First, the homeopathic regimen recommended by my midwives is often successful. In addition, I am past 37 weeks, my labor with Isaiah went relatively fast (meaning if my water breaks first, I will probably give birth in less than 18 hours), and at the time of the test the bacteria had not advanced to my urinary tract. Another surprising thing I have working in my favor is that I don't plan to be in the hospital during labor. Vaginal exams and artificial rupture of membranes can both give the bacteria a way to get closer to the baby and increase the risk of infection. I've also learned from reading and from talking to a scientist who refreshed me on some basic biology, that if you use antibiotics you kill off everything, including beneficial bacteria, so you may be making way for other possibly more harmful bacteria to take their place. The immune systems of both the mother and the baby play a part in whether or not an infection will take place and future infections could occur in the baby if it is not given a chance to get the mother's antibodies because all of her bacteria was killed off during labor.
Deciding whether or not to receive antibiotics is far from a roll of the dice, as I had originally thought it was. While I still haven't made up my mind (my results from a second round of testing will come back Thursday, and reveal another factor: whether or not the bacteria is gone, and if still present, how colonized it is) I am so glad that I learned from my first pregnancy to investigate all aspects of pregnancy, labor, and birth so that I don't have to make this decision out of fear.
In other words, the bumps in the road have certainly gotten my attention, but they aren't going to make me get off the bike.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Preparing Isaiah
I think the midwives tricked me -- in a good way.
Origianlly I thought that I would not want Isaiah to be at the birth -- he gets scared of intense faces on his Thomas videos and doesn't like gooey things. We're never quite sure what is going to freak him out. Then the midwives gave me some children's books and videos about homebirth.
Isaiah was fascinated by the books and asked to read them night after night. Rather than freak out when watching the first video, he sat, totally attentive. The first one showed a midwife giving birth to her own child in the water. She was mostly silent, and her other child jumped in the water with them just after the baby was born. Isaiah asked if he would get to jump in the water, too! Hmmm, not sure about that. But I was starting to think that maybe Isaiah could be present for the birth, at least the end, so our whole family would be right there when the newest addition was born.
The next video showed many different women giving birth and he was fine until he saw a very vocal mommy pushing her baby out.
"I'm all done watching baby video," he said, with an anxious look on his face. Darn. I messed up. But then again, that's realistic, and that's what he might see. I explained that the mommy was working really hard, and that's why she made all that noise. Then I decided I would pretend birth Isaiah's baby doll -- noisily! He thought this was hilarious and then asked to do it himself.
So, here is Isaiah, giving birth to "Graco," his babydoll. If only it were this easy.
Origianlly I thought that I would not want Isaiah to be at the birth -- he gets scared of intense faces on his Thomas videos and doesn't like gooey things. We're never quite sure what is going to freak him out. Then the midwives gave me some children's books and videos about homebirth.
Isaiah was fascinated by the books and asked to read them night after night. Rather than freak out when watching the first video, he sat, totally attentive. The first one showed a midwife giving birth to her own child in the water. She was mostly silent, and her other child jumped in the water with them just after the baby was born. Isaiah asked if he would get to jump in the water, too! Hmmm, not sure about that. But I was starting to think that maybe Isaiah could be present for the birth, at least the end, so our whole family would be right there when the newest addition was born.
The next video showed many different women giving birth and he was fine until he saw a very vocal mommy pushing her baby out.
"I'm all done watching baby video," he said, with an anxious look on his face. Darn. I messed up. But then again, that's realistic, and that's what he might see. I explained that the mommy was working really hard, and that's why she made all that noise. Then I decided I would pretend birth Isaiah's baby doll -- noisily! He thought this was hilarious and then asked to do it himself.
So, here is Isaiah, giving birth to "Graco," his babydoll. If only it were this easy.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
20 Days Left and a Look Back
Here are some numbers for you:
The first day of my blog is 20 days from the due date of my second son, who will, most likely, come a wee bit earlier, based on the fact that his brother was born at 39 weeks. There will be at least two midwives and one birthtub at his birth, and the chance that I will have a medicated birth is close to zero. I am three times less likely than the average low-risk woman to need a Caesarean section and no more likely than them to lose my baby to a complication. During labor, I will have seven rooms and a backyard around which I will be able to walk, most likely while hugging and leaning on my husband, and maybe even getting an encouraging kiss from my son.
That's because I'll be giving birth at home. And while the above reasons represent part of the statistical and analytical side to why I have chosen to have my second child at home, rather than in a hospital, there are also personal reasons that went into my decision.
The first person I ever saw give birth was my best friend, Tuesday. I was 18 at the time and she was 19. At that time in my life I hadn't even considered having babies, but I was excited throughout my friend's pregnancy, and even drove her to a prenatal appointment with her midwife out in Simi Valley once. As I drove her to the appointment, stalling out her VW bug often, and watching her brace herself and the belly that no longer fit behind the steering wheel, I was glad I was just along for the ride.
Tuesday's insurance covered birth center births (cheaper for insurance companies than hospital births) and she was always out to experience every aspect of life right down to its deepest molecule -- this meant that she actually looked forward to the thing that every movie and television show I'd ever seen depicted as the most torturous experience imaginable. There would be no registration papers, hospital gowns, and monitors for her -- she planned to have her baby in the water at this freestanding birth center. For someone who loved the power and the joy that the ocean provided, it was a natural choice.
On the day that Tuesday went into labor, I waited with my boyfriend (now husband) outside of her room at the birth center. I was invited in just before it was time for her to push. Entering the softly-lit room, I said nothing, and she did not appear to know I was there, so focused and intense was she, lying in a spa-like tub of water. Her mother was at her shoulders, massaging them. Her midwife kneeled at the side of the tub, talking to her in a low, soothing voice. Tuesday's daughter was born moments later, her little purple body, like everything else about what I had just witnessed, so different from what I had expected. I decided right then, that that was the way I wanted to have a baby.
Ten years later, I became pregnant with my first child.
In comparison with everything I had expierenced in my life up until that point, getting pregnant was the realest thing I had ever done. Not that choosing a career and getting married were decisions I had taken lightly. But in addition to the emotional, intellectual, and spiritual sides of the other major life events, this one had the added dimension of biology. The biological side was huge, inescapable, sometimes overwhelming. My body was really going to do this.
I started researching hospitals with midwives as well as the only local birth center in the Boston area, the Cambridge Birth Center. After touring Mt. Auburn Hospital, which had wonderful midwives, but swinging doors and thin walls, and then the Birth Center, with rocking chairs and curtained windows, it was clear to me what I needed to do. I had to arrange to give birth in a way that would involve and integrate all of the dimensions I valued -- emotional, intellectual, and spiritual -- not just the biological, and for me this meant the privacy, respect, and encouragement to reflect on pregnancy and birth as life-defining events that was offered at the Birth Center. I wanted to have a birth experience that was transcendant.
In August 2004, I gave birth to my first son at the Cambridge Birth Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Isaiah was born in water after I labored for thirteen hours at my home and was driven through a muggy August rain to the center on the other side of the Charles River. Was it transcendant? Definitely. I have never stopped being in awe of what my body did, and how powerful (and sometimes weak) my mind was in interpreting that experience as it happened -- how I could summon endorphins to take the edge off of the pain by making a sound like I was getting into a bathtub, how visualizing the muscles in my uterus as soft ribbons working in harmony to open my cervix helped me stay focused, how deciding on a maximum amount of time I could continue to handle labor made me want to throw in the towel, and how finding out that I was near the end reactivated the flood of endorphins so that I was on top of the world and had confidence for the next stage. I treasure the birth art that I made as part of the journey to becoming a mother and the reflection that went into making that art. I continue to be fascinated when I read stories of other women giving birth.
Now, two-and-a-half years later, I am prepared to give birth to my second child, this time in my home. Earlier in the pregnancy, my intellectual side did have quite an internal debate about this, most of the issues beginning with, as you can guess, "What if ...?" But as I have come closer to my estimated due date, my anxiety has started to melt away. More and more, I feel the same delicious anticipation that I did before Isaiah's birth. This is partly because, over a combined thirty-plus years of experience, my midwives are no strangers to complications. In fact, they are sometimes better able to spot complications earlier on because of the attention they give each and every one of their clients. And the way that they deal with these complications is individualized, not based on blanket protocol, or a busy schedule. I feel that I can trust them and that I will feel safe and cared for by them.
And then, there's the other reason I am feeling more relaxed about this birth: the fact that I will be in my home.
Home, home, home.
Where my baby belongs.
The first day of my blog is 20 days from the due date of my second son, who will, most likely, come a wee bit earlier, based on the fact that his brother was born at 39 weeks. There will be at least two midwives and one birthtub at his birth, and the chance that I will have a medicated birth is close to zero. I am three times less likely than the average low-risk woman to need a Caesarean section and no more likely than them to lose my baby to a complication. During labor, I will have seven rooms and a backyard around which I will be able to walk, most likely while hugging and leaning on my husband, and maybe even getting an encouraging kiss from my son.
That's because I'll be giving birth at home. And while the above reasons represent part of the statistical and analytical side to why I have chosen to have my second child at home, rather than in a hospital, there are also personal reasons that went into my decision.
The first person I ever saw give birth was my best friend, Tuesday. I was 18 at the time and she was 19. At that time in my life I hadn't even considered having babies, but I was excited throughout my friend's pregnancy, and even drove her to a prenatal appointment with her midwife out in Simi Valley once. As I drove her to the appointment, stalling out her VW bug often, and watching her brace herself and the belly that no longer fit behind the steering wheel, I was glad I was just along for the ride.
Tuesday's insurance covered birth center births (cheaper for insurance companies than hospital births) and she was always out to experience every aspect of life right down to its deepest molecule -- this meant that she actually looked forward to the thing that every movie and television show I'd ever seen depicted as the most torturous experience imaginable. There would be no registration papers, hospital gowns, and monitors for her -- she planned to have her baby in the water at this freestanding birth center. For someone who loved the power and the joy that the ocean provided, it was a natural choice.
On the day that Tuesday went into labor, I waited with my boyfriend (now husband) outside of her room at the birth center. I was invited in just before it was time for her to push. Entering the softly-lit room, I said nothing, and she did not appear to know I was there, so focused and intense was she, lying in a spa-like tub of water. Her mother was at her shoulders, massaging them. Her midwife kneeled at the side of the tub, talking to her in a low, soothing voice. Tuesday's daughter was born moments later, her little purple body, like everything else about what I had just witnessed, so different from what I had expected. I decided right then, that that was the way I wanted to have a baby.
Ten years later, I became pregnant with my first child.
In comparison with everything I had expierenced in my life up until that point, getting pregnant was the realest thing I had ever done. Not that choosing a career and getting married were decisions I had taken lightly. But in addition to the emotional, intellectual, and spiritual sides of the other major life events, this one had the added dimension of biology. The biological side was huge, inescapable, sometimes overwhelming. My body was really going to do this.
I started researching hospitals with midwives as well as the only local birth center in the Boston area, the Cambridge Birth Center. After touring Mt. Auburn Hospital, which had wonderful midwives, but swinging doors and thin walls, and then the Birth Center, with rocking chairs and curtained windows, it was clear to me what I needed to do. I had to arrange to give birth in a way that would involve and integrate all of the dimensions I valued -- emotional, intellectual, and spiritual -- not just the biological, and for me this meant the privacy, respect, and encouragement to reflect on pregnancy and birth as life-defining events that was offered at the Birth Center. I wanted to have a birth experience that was transcendant.
In August 2004, I gave birth to my first son at the Cambridge Birth Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Isaiah was born in water after I labored for thirteen hours at my home and was driven through a muggy August rain to the center on the other side of the Charles River. Was it transcendant? Definitely. I have never stopped being in awe of what my body did, and how powerful (and sometimes weak) my mind was in interpreting that experience as it happened -- how I could summon endorphins to take the edge off of the pain by making a sound like I was getting into a bathtub, how visualizing the muscles in my uterus as soft ribbons working in harmony to open my cervix helped me stay focused, how deciding on a maximum amount of time I could continue to handle labor made me want to throw in the towel, and how finding out that I was near the end reactivated the flood of endorphins so that I was on top of the world and had confidence for the next stage. I treasure the birth art that I made as part of the journey to becoming a mother and the reflection that went into making that art. I continue to be fascinated when I read stories of other women giving birth.
Now, two-and-a-half years later, I am prepared to give birth to my second child, this time in my home. Earlier in the pregnancy, my intellectual side did have quite an internal debate about this, most of the issues beginning with, as you can guess, "What if ...?" But as I have come closer to my estimated due date, my anxiety has started to melt away. More and more, I feel the same delicious anticipation that I did before Isaiah's birth. This is partly because, over a combined thirty-plus years of experience, my midwives are no strangers to complications. In fact, they are sometimes better able to spot complications earlier on because of the attention they give each and every one of their clients. And the way that they deal with these complications is individualized, not based on blanket protocol, or a busy schedule. I feel that I can trust them and that I will feel safe and cared for by them.
And then, there's the other reason I am feeling more relaxed about this birth: the fact that I will be in my home.
Home, home, home.
Where my baby belongs.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
