Birth Is Life

16 weeks

2011-12-10T09:13:00.001-06:00

12 weeks

2011-11-09T11:14:00.000-06:00

The Girlies' Announcement

2011-11-03T19:56:00.000-05:00

Belly Blog Carnival

2011-04-01T14:30:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite blogs is The Well-Rounded Mama, and the author, kmom, is hosting a Belly Blog Carnival! The Carnival is to promote honest talk about our pregnant and post-pregnant bodies, and our struggles to accept them as they are, while still focusing on the positive. I'm going to attempt to do that, but please be aware that, in the interest of honesty, not all of my body talk will necessarily be positive. Because I do struggle with accepting my body in the state three pregnancies (and not always taking proper care of myself) have left it. But why?

"There is no other organ quite like the uterus. If men had such an organ they would brag about it. So should we."
— Ina May Gaskin

My body has done amazing things. It has grown and nurtured life. Not once or twice, but three times! My belly has expanded to make room for entire human beings inside of itself. That is pretty awesome. My body was cut open, and left scarred, but it healed! It healed! And went on to carry and birth two more babies! It has been stretched and stretched again, returning to close to normal each time. My breasts have nursed my three babies for many years, at least 18 months a piece. But I have also provided life-giving milk to three babies who were not my own through milk donation. Gallons and gallons of milk from my body!

My body has done all of the amazing, wonderful things I have asked of it. Yet I do sometimes feel ashamed of the way it looks. I get frustrated that my belly didn't shrink back to the way it was before I was ever pregnant, before it was cut open and rearranged. I get embarrassed that I have stretch marks. My "cesarean shelf" quickly turned into an apron that I hate with a passion. It can be so, so hard to remember all of the amazing things my body has done when I'm in the midst of that self hate, or when someone says something cruel as I walk by.

Women's bodies are changed by childbirth. Long ago and far away that was revered.

Saggy breasts, full bellies and wide hips were normal and expected. They're still normal, yet seem very unexpected. We live in a world where our self esteem is determined by how soon after birth we can squeeze into our skinny jeans, rather than being cherished for who we are and what we do. That world inside our own head, where we are meaner to ourselves than we would ever allow anyone else to be to us. So, at least for today, I am celebrating my body and my belly for all it has done for me. I accept all of it, the way it is - the way I am. At least for today, I choose to see my stretch marks as signs of the life I carried within me, my scar as evidence of my love for my children. Body, at least for today, I love you!

Video: The HBA2C of Lilah Rayne!

2011-03-02T18:05:00.000-06:00

This birth happened a few weeks after Lauren was born. I not only got to be there, I took many of these pictures!! It was a beautiful, amazing birth, and I was so blessed to be there. Congratulations again, Carol!

Finally Wrote That Letter!

2011-02-26T06:55:00.000-06:00

Today is Emily's fourth birthday! A few days ago, I sat down and finally wrote the letter to the anesthesiologist who helped me so much during her birth. I haven't sent it yet; I still have to find his contact information. But here is what I wrote:

February 23, 2011

Dear Dr. X,

I don’t expect you to remember me; we met for only a few short minutes almost four years ago now. But in that time, you made a huge difference in my life. I’ve been meaning to write to you and thank you for all that time. I don’t know why it took me so long, but it finally feels like the right time.

Four years ago, on February 26, 2007, I walked into A. Hospital in labor with my second baby. But the story starts days before, when my waters broke almost a week before I went into labor. My first baby had been born via a very traumatic cesarean, and I wanted a VBAC more than anything in the world, other than a healthy second baby. So I stayed home and waited for labor to start. It finally did on February 25^th. I labored all day and all night, and into the next day. After 30+ hours, we made the difficult decision that something felt wrong, and headed in to the hospital, knowing I’d be going in for another cesarean. At the front desk, I was offered a wheelchair. I wanted it, but I could not take it. I think now that I was buying myself every extra second I could get. I walked up to the birthing center, stopping every two or three minutes for another contraction.

It felt like it took hours, but I finally made it up to the birthing center. I could barely tell the nurses my name at that point. They hustled me into a room, and took a quick history. When I said I was a VBACer, they made it clear that the hospital doesn’t support VBAC, and I resigned myself to my fate. The doctor on call was just leaving, so he refused to see me. The new doctor on call was still seeing patients up in R, so it was decided that I should get an epidural, rather than wait for a spinal right before surgery.

So that’s where I was when we had occasion to meet. You walked into my room and told me about the risks of epidural, pausing for my contractions. I’d never had a doctor do that before, wait for me to be capable of listening. It makes a big difference, you know. That little pause shows women that you think of them as human. And it makes a big difference.

You told me you were going to give me just enough drugs to take the edge off, and started telling me that I did not want to be recovering from surgery and caring for a newborn at the same time. I was expecting the opposite to the point that I replied, “I know, you think I was stupid for even trying…”

You got a little more into my face then, to make sure I heard you, and told me No. We are going to get this baby out before the doctor can get here. Then you gave me a perfect epidural. The edge was off, but I still had to work through each contraction. Then you left, and I don’t remember seeing you again.

I know you probably don’t remember me, and that’s okay, but I’ve always wondered if you ever heard what happened, or if for you, the story ends here. And I wanted you to know the end. I didn’t get the baby out before the doctor made it in, but by then I was strong enough again to sign the AMA papers, declining the cesarean. At 8:55 pm, I pushed my second daughter into this world, with a crowd of onlookers. For me, there was no one in the world but her and I. She was perfect and we were both healthy and fine. We named her Emily Michelle. She was eight pounds and three ounces. (My first daughter had been six pounds, fourteen ounces and I was told she was too big for me!)

Emily is about to turn four. She is a delightful child, and loves to draw. She can’t wait to start school with her big sister. Two years ago, I gave birth to my third daughter, at home. She was nine pounds, eight ounces. Her birth was seven hours, start to finish.

If I had ended up with another cesarean with my second baby, I don’t think I’d have been capable of trying again. I wouldn’t have my third baby at all. Birth IS that important in a woman’s life. It is not routine for us. It is life-changing and earth-shattering. Being respected (or not)and having our wishes honored (or not) impacts us forever. For the staff, we are just another woman, just another birth. But it isn’t just another birth from this side. We remember forever.

I take credit for Emily’s birth. I refused induction, I waited as long as possible to come in, I signed the AMA papers, and I pushed her out. That still, four years later, feels so good to say. I PUSHED HER OUT! But you came to me when I was weak. You were kind to me, and you gave me strength. That’s just how it should be, but so often isn’t. So I thank you. Your words of kindness changed my life, and I will be forever grateful to you. Thank you. Thank you! THANK YOU! From the bottom of my heart.

Lexi Diaz

Reflections on Lauren's Birth- And more Pictures!

2011-02-20T10:01:00.001-06:00

Lauren is TWO today! I can't believe it's been two years since she was born. Her birth was the most amazing birth I could possibly have imagined. Everything went exactly how I had wanted it to go. There were tiny things, like the meconium, but those things didn't end up important to the story at all. The things that were important to me- my perfect birth list, if you will- went like this:

Labor between six and eight hours- check. While the time from first contraction to birth was about 14 hours, I wasn't in active labor until six hours before she was born, almost to the minute!

Labor surrounded by people who love and support me- check. While I planned so many support people so they could work in shifts, it worked out that everyone got to be there when Lauren was born!

Labor without interruption with "medical" things (no cervical checks, no one telling me how to push, etc.)- check. I had heart tones checked once or twice (at my request) and reminders to breathe while I was pushing. Otherwise, as far as interference goes, I might as well have been alone. That's a good thing!

Touch the baby's head as it was crowning- check.

Chris catches- check. Made his year, too!

Chris discovers the sex of the baby- check.

Skin-to-skin with baby- check.

Maddie was there- check.

Emily sleeping upstairs- check.

Baby latches on to nurse all by herself- check.

I know it might seem odd, checking a checklist for a birth, but that's how it felt to me when I thought about it in the days and weeks after. I really had made a list, a set of preferences I wanted my birth helpers to know I wanted. And it really felt like almost every one had been checked off. It was beautiful.

I don't really have the words to explain how Lauren's birth, and her life, have changed me. She is absolutely, without doubt, a gift from God. She is the most joyful, amazing, cheerful little girl. In her first weeks of life, she cried less than ten minutes total. She smiled at two days and laughed by a week. And hasn't stopped. We have our moments, of course, but she is very easygoing and not much bothers her. Which is good with two older sisters!

And now, pictures!!

The placenta, and the true knot in the cord that somehow didn't make it into her birth story!

Getting weighed! Her cord still wasn't clamped or cut at this point, and she's at least an hour old.

Emily came down to join us! She's just a baby herself. She'll be two in six days in this picture.

Meeting their baby sister for the first time.

Daddy bonding with the baby while Mommy gets cleaned up. The girls were back in bed.

And, my birthday girl!

Not the best picture, but all she was willing to sit still.

Cassandra's Birth Story

2010-10-09T21:44:00.000-05:00

My friend Cass' birth story with her third baby Rosalind. A wonderful UBAC! Enjoy!

************

My first son was a c-section, I went to 42 weeks, I was very culturally normal in my views about birth to the detriment of my body.

My second son was a vbac in a hospital with LOTS of interventions. I started on my path with this pregnancy towards what I hope will someday be a life filled with babies and bellies. I wanted something different but lacked the courage to take the plunge and I found very few people to help me.

This is my third baby, she was born at home, caught by my husband in our spare bedroom.

She was born at 43 weeks gestation, I am sure of my dates and my other two children were both induced because I went over 42 weeks. its is NORMAL for my body to gestate babies longer than the average women. Even average is debatable because we induce almost everyone in this country.

I woke up around 2:30 am with contractions. They were strong but not bad at all. I had to breathe through them but I was happy they were finally here. They were like 5-7mins apart but I did very little clock looking pretty much this whole labor. I knew I wasn’t on a time table so I just didn’t care. I tried to sleep, I wanted to sleep, and I could have easily in the beginning except my 2.5 yr old son would cry in his sleep each time I had a contraction. It was the most bizarre thing, like his body new what was happening in mine. I got up and stayed up from about then on because there seemed no point in trying. (I should have kept trying!) My hubby got up around 4:30 to get ready for work and I told him today was most likely the day but they were really manageable and I was feeling like it was still far off. He left at 5:45 and I got a knock on the door at 6:05 and they had sent him home (hooray!) so besides being happy I was feeling pressure to perform which is not good for me so I just tried to ignore it. Around 7 am I woke up my mom who was staying with us and let her know what was going on. More contractions and around 8 am I called my midwife and told her I was in labor and all that jazz. (my midwife was sort of a backup I intended on keeping her in the loop but I wanted to do this by myself)Around 9 my mom left with my kids to my grandma’s house to go swimming and give me and the hubby some time. We went to a trail to go hiking and help labor proceed. The trail was gorgeous I got to show my hubby tons of wildflowers and soon-to-be-ripening berries, wild honeysuckle and all sorts of neat stuff. We took a really hilly steep trail and I would stop every few minutes and hold onto him and do hip movements from belly dance (if you perform at all it will be a big help to you during labor). We did this for about an hour and a half and headed home.When I got there I saw Anne (the MW) had called like 3 times so I rang her back and she said she was in town and she had to leave for work at 1:30 (she is an R.N. at a local hospital as well) so would I like her to come see how things are going and if we were gonna maybe have this baby by then. I said Yes but I was sorta not ok with it because me and Matt (the DH) had planned on having some intimate time and then showering together and nipple stim to help move things along and so it impeded on that. Anne arrived and asked if I wanted to be checked and I said sure why not. I was 6cm and all that so I was like woot! My Grandma called at this time and Matt answered and told her and she said that she, my ma, and the kids were on their way (a 40 minute drive) I could not for the life of me get this because my grandma did not wanna be here for birth and I did not want anyone their that was negative. So between my unexpected MW and my grandma I totally stalled. Nothing. Going. On. At. All. My contractions spaced out to like 3-4 an hour till my mom and grandma and midwife finally all left at like 12:30 Once they left me and the hubs went and laid down and focused on just being together That really got things going and I had a couple strong contractions during. Afterwards I hopped in the shower for a looooooooooooooooong time and did tons of nipple stimulation (that helps with contractions if you don't know already).Around 2pm I finally got out of the shower and had Matt fill up the birth tub. I got in and it felt great. The contractions weren’t coming at what I thought was fast enough (little did I know my contractions never did pick up to what a normal labor should be) so I would do nipple stim till I could feel one coming and then stop right away cuz they would be really intense. It wasn’t till this point that I really thought for sure this kid is coming today. This is also where my contractions went from contractions I had felt before to really odd horrible nerve pain coming from all over. If someone would touch the wrong area it would shoot into that area. It felt nothing like the period-like cramps I had always associated with real contractions (this is my 3rd baby folks so I am still at a loss wth these were) when she finally did come out her cone was slightly angled so my best guess is asynclintic presentation maybe? She was anterior and I did not tear at all so who knows? I have no time frame for the rest of this. The contractions were pretty hard to manage at this point so I got out of the pool and was gonna try and lay down. I went in the bedroom and laid there and almost screamed as the first contraction hit. I yelled for Matt to get in here now and tried to get on my feet mid contraction and sorta accomplished that. I was exhausted from not sleeping and I knew then that till I birthed this kid I was gonna stay pretty damn tired. My mom, grandma, and kids came back (Matt had told my mom just herself to come but that didn’t happen) and my oldest was so excited (we had been planning on having him stay with us for the birth) he was on me like glue but the contractions were so strong I couldn’t be touched and so I kept saying I was sorry to him but he couldn’t touch me My friend Emma stopped over not realizing I was in labor, I am so thankful. Emma had delivered 4 kids naturally in a hospital so she was able to offer a ton of good advice in the thick of it (rolling pin on my lower back saved my life thanks to her) More contractions. Things going crazy. I cried in the bathroom and that felt good to release it all. The only way I can get through a contraction is standing and laying my head and my hand on the wall and sticking out my butt or sitting on the toilet and bracing the walls with my arms. I switch those 2 positions when one of them gets unbearable. I had matt refill our birth pool again because I wanted HOT water. I laid in it and the contractions slowed for a bit. My mom was worried cuz she wants to know how dialated I am so I tell Matt to call Lexi (my friend who is in school for midwifery and I trust her with my life) and my mom and her talk while I labor in the tub. In between contractions Lex tells my mom about how there can be a line from the vagina to the anus that can show dialation sometimes and my mom checks and says it looks like the line is there. I talk to lexi on the phone while in the tub and she listens to 2 contractions where I start making really deep guttural sounds and it feels so good to make them!!! Like blessed relief. She says “Cass you gotta stop focusing on your kids and talking to people and go deep inside yourself. There is only a handful of contractions left” (talking to her now she was so mad at herself for saying that because she would have felt horrible had she been wrong but it just popped out and welllll she wasn’t wrong) Lexi was my Godsend and I realigned my thinking and got off the phone with her feeling better.The next contraction hits and I’m like “OMG it’s the ring of fire! It’s the ring of fire!” no one around me even knows what that means cuz they don’t read birth stuff like I do but I was so thankful and so shocked. So my grandma decides to take the kids to the park cuz they are bouncing around excited like wild cavemen. The next contraction hits and I am like get me out of this water, I cant be In it I cant push like this, So I make it through that one and walk to my spare bedroom and try side lying and it feels horrible. I can't push, I tried for 2 contractions and everytime I try to push its like horrible shooting nerve pain that makes no sense to me.(upon doing research I really believe foetal ejection reflex was the reason I could not make my body push as it was already pushing instinctively) Pushing is the relief and yet my body won’t even let me push. I try one more contraction and my water breaks and drenches my husband (he is still a bit traumatized lol!) I get on the floor on my hands and knees and it feels a bit better. The next contraction her head comes out a bit and sucks in my family is like NO NO NO and I am like people stfu this is normal and good. leave me alone (Lexi was on the phone during this and was like you said this so calm I couldn’t believe it but I wasn’t calm it just sounded like it) I think once more her head came half out and went back in and on the next contraction hear head was out and I thought I was ripped in friggin half. With the next contraction I remember yelling at matt to pull her out cuz OMG it didn’t actually hurt but I thought my body was going to break in two pieces. Her body sorta flew out and Emma said she cried before her shoulders were even fully birthed. Daddy caught her so that was pretty nifty. She had a knot in her cord which was cool. The last birth I attended (Lexi’s awesome HBAC) her daughter had a knot as well so I was like WOW two in a row! I expelled a ton of clots right before the placenta came out and I have had very light PP bleeding so I don’t know if that has anything to do with it. I cut the cord myself after I delivered the placenta. And yeah so that’s her story. I did not tear even though she was 10lb.s and 21.5 inches long. Her named is Rosalind.

Training!

2010-08-15T21:34:00.000-05:00

I'm really excited! This weekend I signed up for Karen Strange's Neonatal Resuscitation Course for later this month. I also signed up for an AAMI Midwifery Skills Lab in October! Can't wait!

World Breastfeeding Week

2010-08-05T10:41:00.005-05:00

It's World Breastfeeding Week and I was inspired by my friend Kmom's post about lower breastfeeding rates in women of size. Among all the other potential reasons, she suggested that a lack of images of women of size breastfeeding could lower confidence. It's the one thing I could do a little something about, so here are my pictures of me nursing newborn Lauren. If I find (or take) more, I'll post them, too.

The "gift" strikes again

2010-07-14T22:16:00.002-05:00

My cesarean was almost 6.5 years ago. I've had a VBAC and an amazing home waterbirth since then. I hardly ever even think about my cesarean anymore, which is a place I never thought I'd be six years ago.

That's why I was so shocked when, a few days ago, I was talking to my husband an the "gift that keeps on giving" hit me again. I don't even remember what we were talking about at the time, but in the course of the conversation I found myself saying, "She (Maddie, my c-section baby) was always your baby; She was never mine." Then before I even knew it was there, out came, "They took her from me." Blinking back the tears that were trying forcefully to spill out, I realized that I had just tapped into a well of hurt that I didn't even know was there, all these years later. I was able to put a cap on the well, for now, promising myself that, while now is not a good time to deal with it, I will soon. I have to. That stuff is poison, and it has to come out. I'm not sure how or where to begin though; it's been so long. It's still a bad time to deal with the hurt, being on vacation with the family right now, but maybe if I can get out some of the story of why I felt like she was never mine, I'll be taking steps in the right direction.

Right after Maddie was taken from my body, she and Chris left. I was alone and he was with the baby. As I wanted, of course. I'm not meaning for any of this to seem like my husband had bad motives. Like me, he was doing his best to get through a terrible and unexpected ordeal. Regardless of motives, though, he spent the first two hours with our baby, holding her and bonding with her, while I cried alone. By the time I was able to see her, she was sleepy and didn't even look at me. I did as much baby care in the hospital as I could, but that was limited. Even once we got home though, Chris would bring Maddie to me to nurse, then, it felt to me, immediately take her again. I'm sure he was trying to help me rest and recover, but the memory that stands out to me is putting dishes away and reloading the dishwasher while he cuddled the baby on the couch. The day we got home from the hospital. I was only a room away, but it could have been miles. I felt like an outsider, and I didn't want to intrude.

Chris was gone a lot in the subsequent days. The Navy kept him busy. I spent tons and tons of time alone with Maddie, but I always got the feeling she was tolerating me till Daddy got home. When he was home, she was willing to be with me while she nursed, but then she'd fuss till Daddy got her again. When I'd wake up at night, she'd have wriggled away from me and be curled up next to him, even when she seemed too small to manage it. As she's grown, she's stayed a Daddy's girl, only coming down to sleep in our bed when he's home. Never when it's only me.

There's no way to know for sure of course. She might have been a Daddy's girl regardless. But I can't help but feel like those first two hours set the tone for the rest of the postpartum time, which set the tone for her babyhood, and so on. I have to close for now. The tears are getting closer to winning every second, and I have to push them back for now. I hope soon I can find a time and place to let them loose, and follow them wherever they lead. It'll be yet another step on this seemingly endless journey.

Book Review: Birthing the Easy Way

2009-11-02T13:19:00.008-06:00

I've decided to start reviewing the birth books I'm reading (and hopefully someday all the ones I've already read!) in hopes of making this blog more useful. They won't be long book reports, more like short blurbs. Still, I hope someone finds them useful. Please feel free to leave your own thoughts about the books in the comments. I'm going to start with Birthing the Easy Way by Sheila Stubbs, in part because it's the book I finished most recently, but also because I have the pleasure of calling Ms. Stubbs a friend.

The first fun thing about this book is that it comes tied with a single white shoelace. Ms. Stubbs shares the story of one of her children, born unexpectedly early. The only thing they had prepared for the birth was a shoelace to tie the cord. As it turns out, that was enough.

The book is divided into four parts, suggestively titled "First Base," "Second Base," "Third Base" and "Home." The slightly sexual theme runs throughout the text, making reading light and fun and also tying into the main theme that birth is an extension of a woman's sexual function, as is breastfeeding. Ms. Stubbs contends that, like conception, birth is ideally accomplished privately between a husband and wife; that the woman is giving back the fruit of the seed planted so many months before.

The book is written in an easy, unpretentious way, more like talking to the mom next door than reading an educational book. I highly recommend this one to anyone expecting a child, in the past present or future.

"Baby Day Baby"

2009-09-26T18:46:00.002-05:00

I was cleaning the kitchen this evening when I noticed that the kids, who were playing in the basement, were awfully quiet, so I went down to check on them. I saw no mess, nothing suspicious, so I asked what they were doing. Maddie tells me, "Playing Baby Day Baby."

I know that "Baby Day" in their language means the day a baby is born, so now I'm REALLY curious. I ask her, "How do you play that?"

She says:

"First you pretend there's a baby in your tummy." At this, both she and Emily push their tummies out. Emily says "Lauren's in my tummy!" Maddie rubs her tummy and sits in the rocking chair, rocking, rocking and rubbing her tummy.

"Then you sit down on this chair." She sits on the birth stool, her legs spread wide over the edges of the seat.

"Then you reach down and pull the baby up to you." Pantomiming, gently cradling the air-baby, as she lifts it to her chest. Catching her baby completely without assistance.

"Then you walk over here to rest." She walks over to my bed, waddling, careful of a cord that isn't there. Yet somehow I can see it all the same. Maddie climbs into the very spot where I rested with my brand new "baby day baby" Lauren in the minutes after she was born. I think I'm going to cry. Maddie is all cuddled up now, propped in pillows, wrapped in blankets, cooing over her brand new baby. I feel like I'm glimpsing into her future.

Cassie's in labor!

2009-07-16T13:48:00.003-05:00

Cassie, one of the three other pregnant women in attendance at Lauren's birth, and the last to have her baby, is in labor! This will be her second VBAC. She may have had the baby already. If you are still laboring, Cass, I'm thinking of you, praying for you. Much love is headed your way.

UPDATE: Baby is here, born at home. I got to listen to the birth on the phone and share in the joy!!!!!!

Lauren's Birth Story

2009-05-01T19:25:00.010-05:00

My third pregnancy was very hard on me, both physically and emotionally. I had so many more fears this time around. I was afraid of labor, afraid of having another vaginal birth, afraid of not having another vaginal birth. Mostly I was afraid of parenting a third baby. This pregnancy had been a surprise, and not a particularly welcome one at that. I knew I wasn’t ready for a third child. I could barely manage with the two I had. I really worked at resolving this fear before the baby came, but sometimes nine months just isn’t long enough to fix everything.

Maddie and Emily both came at exactly 39 weeks and 2 days, with labor starting at 39 weeks and 1 day. With that in mind, as we headed to bed on February 7th (39 weeks exactly) I told Chris that I was scared. He had known of my struggles up to that point, but I really was expecting to begin labor sometime early the next morning, and that brought all my fears into a much sharper focus. I did finally sleep that night, but it wasn’t good sleep- I was much too worried. But labor didn’t start the next morning. I went to an ICAN meeting instead, and that helped some. The next two nights, the 8th and the 9th, I was up every 10-15 minutes with prodromal labor contractions. I had been having prodromal labor for awhile, but on these two nights it was particularly bad. On February 10th, I complained to the ICAN list about how tired I was and how much I just wanted the pregnancy to end. That night I slept all night. It was the best sleep I had had in months. And after that, all vestiges of prodromal labor just disappeared. I really believe that was a gift from God given to allow me to keep my sanity. I can’t imagine how I would have managed otherwise.

My due date, February 14th, came and went. Next, I set my sights on the 18th. At the beginning of my pregnancy, I had had feeling about the 18th. That morning, I woke up to some intense contractions about seven minutes apart. I ignored them for as long as I could, then called Chris at work and asked him to come home. Then I waited…and waited…and waited. About an hour later he called back. He hadn’t left yet! I was furious. In three pregnancies, I’d never once had a false alarm. I felt I’d earned the right to be believed, and when I said come home now, I meant it. Chris got home as quickly as possible and we started cleaning the house and waited for things to kick into gear. A few hours later, the contractions started to space out and then stopped entirely. I got into the shower, sat down under the water, and just sobbed. I was tired of being pregnant; I was frustrated at being so completely powerless, and I was embarrassed about getting mad at Chris and then it having been a false alarm after all. I decided that instead of waiting around, I needed to make some sort of plans. I needed something, however small, to look forward to. Two days later, on Friday, my favorite scrapbooking store was having a sale and a make-and-take event. It was perfect to just get my mind off of everything.

On Friday morning I got up early. The only way I could get out to the scrapbook store was to have Chris take me, since I hadn’t been able to fit behind the wheel of the car for months. The store was closer to the base than to home, and since Friday is a short workday anyway, we all went to work with Chris that morning. We got a really late start, and I took advantage of it and called my friend Sharon to let her know that it looked like we would be able to attend her daughter’s birthday party the next day after all. I had no signs of labor.

I had a light contraction a few minutes after I hung up the phone, but I had been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for as long as I could remember, and I didn’t pay any attention to it. We packed Maddie and Emily into the car and headed out.

Emily fell asleep in the car on the way to the base, so when we got there, Chris took Maddie in with him, and I stayed in the car to let Emily sleep. I played Sudoku and enjoyed the quiet. I stared to notice that I was having quite a few contractions, so I timed a few of them. They were consistently seven minutes apart. Interesting, but these were light, and the contractions a few days before had been consistent too. I was suspicious, but decided to keep my feelings to myself. I didn’t want Chris to insist that we go home. He’d had a dream a few nights before that the baby was born on the road we’d be taking home from the store, and I didn’t want him to be worried about it. Besides, I really wanted to go and play at the scrapbook store for awhile!

Emily woke up right as Chris and Maddie were coming out. She was hungry and crying for oatmeal, so Chris ran inside to make her some. Then we went to another building where Chris had to run inside for just a minute, so I waited in the car with the girls. Emily had made a mess of herself with the oatmeal, and she’s in a phase where she can’t stand messes. She started crying. “I’m a mess! Hurts me! Hurts me!” I got her cleaned off as well as I could. Chris came back and we headed to the mall for lunch and shopping.

I timed a few more contractions on the way to the mall. Still seven minutes apart, but something was different. I was pretty sure, but not completely convinced, that things were starting. Still, I didn’t say anything.

When we got to the mall we headed to Ruby Tuesday for lunch. I needed to use the bathroom, so I headed over there. Naturally, there was a line. One of the women asked me when I was due. She asked in a nice way, so I told her the truth. Last Saturday. She just looked at me and marveled that I was out and about while I was “overdue.” I laughed and told her I’d rather be out than stuck at home waiting. She seemed to understand. When I got back to the table, I made sure to order a light lunch. I usually throw up in labor and I wanted to make sure that was as easy as possible. Contractions were intensifying to the point where I couldn’t swallow my food during them. I could still talk though, and we were having a very amusing conversation. Chris kept telling me that he was sure I as going to have the baby that night. He was saying I was radiating “an energy,” just like when I had been in labor before. I kept saying things like, “We’ll see” and “Maybe.” I didn’t want to tell him yet, but I was pretty sure it would be that night too. As we left the restaurant, we passed by the table of the woman I had met in the bathroom. She wished me good luck.

I didn’t really notice any contractions while we were in the scrapbook store. I’m sure I was having them; I was just having too much fun to pay attention. I made some cards and did some shopping. Chris got me some new stamps. I didn’t stay as long as I normally would have, and I sure noticed the contractions as we walked out to the car! I had one that was really strong and I pretended to be looking at a store window display while I waited through it. Then we headed home.

I thought about telling Chris about my contractions once we were in the car, but again, I didn’t want to spook him, so I decided to wait till we got home. I did time a few of them in the car, though. Every six minutes.

When we got home, I had to use the bathroom again, and when I got out, Chris was filling out a job application on his computer. I lay down on the couch to wait for him to finish. The contractions were getting very strong now, and I needed to actively breathe through them. I also started using my Hypnobabies relaxation techniques. I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next thing I knew Chris was in the kitchen on the phone. I have a vague recollection of him taking the dog out and coming in on the cell phone, but I think I was sleeping between contractions and only partially waking during them. I decided that as soon as Chris got off the phone, I was going to tell him that I was in labor and then put all of my birth helpers on alert. Before he got off the phone though, Amanda called to see how I was doing. It was about 5:15 pm. I told her that I was pretty sure I was in labor and could she call everyone else to let them know? I also told her that I didn’t need them yet, but to expect another call soon. Then my phone battery died.

A second after the phone died I had another contraction. I felt a pop and wondered for a second if my water had broken, but I didn’t feel any water, so I guessed not. Chris came back into the living room before that contraction was completely over and said, “Did I just hear you put people on alert and not tell me?” I looked at him, feeling a little sheepish for waiting so long and said, “Yeah…” I started to get up and felt water gush out of me. My water had broken, but since I was lying down it had stayed put. As soon as I moved it started rushing out. I hurried to the bathroom while telling Chris, “I think my water just broke!”

In the bathroom I was able to see what I’d hoped I wouldn’t- meconium. I worried for a second that I needed to transfer, and then remembered that not all meconium is worrisome. I decided to take a shower and then I’d go look up meconium in one of my midwifery texts downstairs. I stayed in the shower for about 20 minutes, until the water was only trickling with each contraction instead of gushing. I climbed out and put on one of the adult diapers that are wonderful for broken waters. I got dressed and looked a little closer at the pad I had been wearing when my water broke. (I had known it was only a matter of time.) I was trying to get as much information about the quality of the meconium as possible. I also noticed that the waters were full of little tiny dark hairs! How funny! I headed downstairs and mentioned to Chris that our baby had short dark hair.

I did a little reading and drank the smoothie Chris made me for dinner. I was reassured that the meconium was nothing to worry about. I called J, my doula/midwife, told her to come and asked her to bring her fetoscope. I wanted to have it on hand just in case. I wanted to rule out fetal distress. I called Amanda back and let her know my water broke and today would definitely be the day. My friend Cassie called to check in on me after Amanda called her. She timed the contractions I was having while I was on the phone with her. She said they were about four minutes apart and lasting over a minute. I wasn’t on very long. I needed to concentrate.

I headed upstairs again and started to make the birthday cake for the baby. None of my other babies were welcomed in with a cake, and it felt like an important act of intention to make the cake. This baby will be born at home and we will eat this cake! Maddie helped me make it. The cake was a boxed mix, but it still took forever to get it to the point that we could put it in the oven. I had to stop for every contraction now. There was no ignoring these. As soon as the cake was in the oven, I set the timer and asked Chris to take it out when the timer buzzed. I couldn’t do anything but labor anymore. Chris put the girls to bed.

I went downstairs to the basement and put on my Easy First Stage Hypnobabies tape. I lay down on the floor, even though he bed was right there. I needed to be on the floor. I took myself down, deep into myself. The contractions were still very tolerable. J came in and just sat down and watched me for a minute. At the end of the contraction I was able to talk to her. She said things were moving along quickly. I thought she was trying to make me feel better. I was still just beginning. I had a long way to go.

My tape ended and I didn’t start it over again. I got up and J or Chris asked if I wanted the birth tub filled. I said no. I didn’t want to be in too long. I used the bathroom and told them I had changed my mind. I wanted the water! I also asked Chris to call Cassie and have her call everyone and let them know they could come and go as they wanted now. I didn’t want to have to worry about it anymore. I felt a weight lift as the last thing my mind had to think about was gone. I was free to labor.

There was about eight inches of water in my pool, so I got in. I sat on my knees and rested my body over the edge of the pool. During contractions I would grab Chris’ hands and breathe through. Eventually Claire got here and took over for Chris. The water got cold and was turned off. I threw up my smoothie. My feet started to go numb and I sat down. More people arrived. Cassie, Amanda, Carol, Sharon. I had no thoughts at the time beyond getting through the next contraction. As I headed into laborland though, that began to change. While I looked restful on the outside, my mind seemed to go into hyperdrive. I was laying my head back and resting my body between contractions. Inside I had many voices all at once. There was nothing scary or panicky- just busy. Part of me was listening to everything going on in the room. “Aww, she’s sleeping.” “This is going quickly-it won’t be long now.” There was my inner midwife, “She’s right. This is advanced active labor.” There was the pessimist, “No way. This is how I do things. I’m just getting started. They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

At some point we put more warm water in the tub. Labor continued. During contractions now I was moaning loudly and circling my hips with my arms outstretched and someone holding each hand. All of my helpers took turns. I got hot and was trying to tell my people and couldn’t. Eventually I managed to say I was feeling woozy at the peak of contractions. It actually probably came out as something like, “Pass out. Hot.” But they got the point and cold water was added to the tub and a frozen cloth was put on my forehead. My wonderful husband, in a moment of inspiration, had frozen several cloths at the start of my labor. Bless him. My mouth was dry and I kept asking for my Vitamin Water. It was the orange flavor. I don’t know if I’ll ever drink it again without remembering that night.

The contractions got longer and longer. There was less and less space between them. I was sure it was getting close to dawn. Any moment and I’d see the first vestiges of light in the windows. I was moaning louder and louder. A few times it felt like I was screaming and a few times I was definitely crying. I told my birth helpers how much it hurt. The thing is that it didn’t hurt, at least not in the traditional sense of pain. This was more like there was a strong current of power running through me, but it couldn’t get through. It was getting stopped up at my cervix and concentrating there, building and building until my senses were completely overwhelmed. But I couldn’t say that. So I said, “It hurts!” A few times I said I didn’t want to do it. But I didn’t say I couldn’t do it.
During a contraction. Amazing definition.

The contractions started to double peak. Not all of them, but enough. I heard whispers of the T-word. Transition. Inner Midwife: “Double peaking contractions. Definitely transition.” Hopeful Me: “Oh, please let this be transition. I’m so ready to be done. But I can’t believe it. I’ll be so disappointed.” Pessimist: “Won’t they be surprised when this goes on for a couple more hours and then everything stalls. Hahaha.” J checked heart tones, declared them perfect. I considered asking for the number, decided perfect was good enough for me. A contraction washed over me, peaked and peaked again, then peaked a third time. I remember saying, “Oh, come on!” I had a total of two contractions that triple peaked, and they were not back to back, thank Heaven.

I started to give little tiny pushes at the top of each contraction, just the faintest little bit of oomph while I was at the bottom of my hip circle. Amanda asked if I’d like J to check me. I agreed because I didn’t want to push on an incomplete cervix, but then I wouldn’t give up my miniscule rest periods to have the check done. After a few contractions we all gave up on the idea. Pessimist was still screaming at me that it was too early to push, that I was probably only at four centimeters. Inner Midwife was telling that little pushes in active labor are fine and won’t swell the cervix. I decided to listen to Inner Midwife. It didn’t take long before those little pushes were big pushes though. I was starting to worry about premature pushing urges and would I be able to avoid pushing too hard. I didn’t actually have an urge though, not the way I did with Emily. I didn’t feel like I had to push, my body just DID. No control by me at all. I moved around and changed positions a few times. Then my contractions started to get shorter and space out. Inner Midwife said, “These are pushing contractions. No more worries. Get this baby out!” For the first time all night, Pessimist had nothing. So I pushed!

I was surrounded by my people. Supported literally and figuratively.

My birth helpers probably would say otherwise, given the noise I was making, but I love pushing. The contractions are short and the rest periods are longer. The current of power can get all the way through and I can harness it, use it. I was on my knees, not consciously pushing, but pushing with all of my body’s might anyway. During contractions I was hearing many voices. Inner Midwife: “Don’t purple push! Breathe!” Amanda: “Breathe… breathe.” Another Voice In My Head: “I don’t know how to breathe!” But I did breathe, groaning so I wouldn’t hold onto my breath.

At one point, I heard the air coming out of my birth pool and I started to panic. No one else heard it, but every time I rested against the side of the tub the air was hissing out. Fortunately the tub didn’t deflate much.

Someone told me the baby was coming down, so I reached in and felt nothing. I cried in despair that there was nothing there. The very next contraction I felt her head come through my pelvis. It was like a rock sliding through my bones. At the end of the contraction it moved back up. When I pushed again it came down and stayed. But I wanted to sit down, so I moved the head back up on purpose. I did this a few more times then Amanda told me to reach down and feel the baby’s head. I reached down, expecting to feel a quarter-sized patch of baby head. Instead, as I touched the fuzzy softness of baby head, I realized that the head was halfway out! I decided that I wasn’t going to waste the progress I had made. And I made a conscious decision to let the baby be born. With the next contraction, the head was born. I tried to push out the shoulders before the contraction, but I had no power. I waited. And waited. Finally another contraction began and I pushed. The baby didn’t come and didn’t come then WHOOSH! Chris grabbed the baby and brought it to my chest. He looked and said it was a girl. Someone called out the time and I heard, but let it go, content that someone had noted it. I had my helpers pull my shirt over my head so I could be skin to skin with my new daughter. I started to cry. Chris got Maddie from our bed (she had been brought down during the early pushes) and she got to meet her new sister. At first the baby didn’t cry. She just looked at me and blinked a few times. Then she let out a tentative little moan, and then just wailed! She only cried for a moment though. I was caught up inn the emotion of it, and nothing existed anymore except me, Maddie, Chris and the new baby. I cried and cried. I was so amazingly happy.

About five minutes later the placenta was born. I started to get cold, so I got out of the water and moved to the bed. I was examined and there were no tears at all. I rested and there was a festive air to the room. I asked what time the baby had been born. 11:16. It was not even midnight! I couldn’t believe it.

Once the cord was white and limp, we cut it. I looked at the placenta, touched and examined it. Cassie had brought pink champagne and Amanda had frosted my cake. We all had some. It was a real Birth Day party. Emily woke up and came down. I gave the girls the presents from the new baby that I had made. We weighed the baby. I thought Chris was teasing me when he said nine and a half pounds. He wasn’t. She’s just a big girl. I was holding the baby near my breast, and when she was ready, she latched on, all by herself. Chris eventually got the girls back in bed. At around two in the morning, everyone started to head home. J stayed to start drying the placenta for encapsulation. Chris and I curled up with our now sleeping baby and slept, in our own bed, content and exhausted.

We named the baby Lauren on Sunday, the third day after her birth. The day after that we decided on Nicole as a middle name. When she was eight days old, we added Ainsley to the mix, and her name was complete. Lauren Ainsley Nicole. 9lbs. 8oz, 21 inches. Born at home on February 20th, 2009. It was the most perfect birth I could imagine.

As promised

2009-04-06T23:04:00.010-05:00

My nice belly photos

taken at about 38 weeks

Here are the nice ones that were taken during my pregnancy with Emily, since I don't think these were posted on this blog before:

Another new baby is born!

2009-04-05T12:21:00.003-05:00

On Friday night I was called out to be with a friend through her birth. It was the first birth, other than my own, that I had attended in four years and only the third ever. It was an amazing way to return to the birth world!

C had two prior cesareans. This was her first VBAC. I was called at 10:30 pm and arrived just after 11. C was clearly at the end of a very hard labor. She was 42 weeks and her waters had been broken for six days. She had started labor about 2 am. C was doing very well despite her doubts, and it was beautiful to watch the way she and the dad, P, interacted during the contractions. At 2:36, after just over 24 hours of labor, C and P welcomed their new baby girl into the world. The baby had a rough start at first, but with a little rubbing and some suctioning, she was just fine.

I was so blessed to be part of it. Welcome to the world baby girl!!

baby is here!!

2009-02-22T17:50:00.014-06:00

much more detail coming soon!

Our baby girl, first name Lauren, middle name undecided as yet, was born at home in the water on friday feb 20th at 11:16pm after an incredibly intense 7 hour labor. she was 9.5 lbs. and 21 inches long born at 40 weeks 6 days, surrounded by loving friends and immediate family. Caught by mom and dad. Here are a handful of pictures for now:

UPDATE: Her middle name is Nicole.

40 weeks!!

2009-02-14T23:43:00.005-06:00

(I do have pictures between 33 weeks and 40 weeks, but they are my nice artistic ones, and Chris is still putting the finishing touches on them. They should be up soon. But hopefully the birth announcement will be sooner!)

33 weeks

2008-12-29T21:05:00.003-06:00

No wonder I feel so big I can barely move!

Yes, that is a maternity shirt that doesn't even reach my belly button! Seriously, though, I have been having problems moving around. Not walking, I can do that fine, but shifting from sitting to standing and laying down to anything is a real challenge. Rolling over in bed at night has gotten to the point of being a carefully thought through endeavor, with several steps! And tying my own shoes? You're joking, right? I'm not able to drive anymore, can't fit myself behind the wheel and still reach the pedals, but I didn't go that many places anyway. It's too hard to chase both kids. I'd rather have them in the house, where they pretty much know what they can and can't do and are fairly good about sticking to it.

The lack of mobility has been hard. The combination of not being able to drive anywhere if Chris isn't home, Chris working two jobs, and not being able to go outside due to sub-zero temperatures has not been good on my psyche. I've been feeling trapped and depressed. We try to go out as much as possible when Chris is home, but I have to balance my desire to get out with his need to actually be home now and then. It's been tough, and I'm pretty sure I haven't been easy to live with lately. I don't even really like being around myself.

But the "stuck at home" has an upside, and that is extra time to get my school work done. I finished and mailed in Orientation last week, several weeks before the suggested completion date and even a week before my self-imposed deadline! I'm really proud of myself. Now I have six months to put together my first submission of regular coursework before my first annual report. If I get even one submission in before my annual report, I won't have to pay the final testing fees of $250, so it's important to try. I'm trying to get some momentum to get at least a small submission ready before the baby comes, that way I have something I can send if I don't feel up to doing any work for awhile. If I do feel like working, I can always add to a small submission and make it a larger one. The trouble is that I'm having a bit of trouble getting started. To be fair to myself, we are in the middle of the holidays, and the kids and I were sick the last few days. But I still feel like I should have gotten a little more done.

Part of me just wants to forget about it and focus on these last few weeks of pregnancy and everything I still need to do to prepare. I've gotten behind in my Hypnobabies practice and I need to start doing the OFP postures again in just a few days. Some days I feel completely overwhelmed. Other days I feel bored out of my mind. How can I be both?

As if I needed any more on my plate, we are trying to decide if we want to cloth diaper this baby beyond the first few weeks. We actually have the money to invest in quality cloth diapers this time. The problem I foresee is being too overwhelmed to use them. If you could see the mounds of unwashed laundry in my basement... And I have to admit, everytime I have to clean Emily's poopy diaper, I'm so glad I can just toss it, instead of having to try to get the poo off in the toilet, then put the diaper in a smelly pail. I do know all the pluses of cloth diapering, though, and it makes me feel selfish to even consider not doing it. Any opinions or advice?

On a final, very positive note, Emily, at 22 months, has been taking HUGE steps towards potty training lately. She may actually be done by the time this baby is born! That would be amazing. GO MEMERS!!

28 weeks- Third trimester already??

2008-11-22T21:55:00.003-06:00

I cannot believe that I am into the third trimester already. This pregnancy has just flown by. Can I hope that this last few months will go by just as quickly?

I was thinking today about the day I found out I was pregnant this time. With Emily, I didn't test until I had known for a long time that I was pregnant. I was almost nine weeks along, so the positive result didn't surprise me one bit. I only actually took the test so Chris would stop saying, "If you're pregnant..." Maddie's HPT came up negative. That one was disappointing, but not surprising. The blood test on the other hand, was quite shocking. But the point is, I was never really surprised by the results of an HPT before.

This time, I hadn't been charting as well as I should have. I came home from a trip to California for my sisters graduation, and restarted my temping. I knew the temps I was getting were post-ovulatory, but I didn't know how long they had been that way. There had been only one chance for us to get pregnant, so I figured the odds were in our favor and didn't worry about it. We were having a difficult time and my mind was on other things. A week or so after my trip, I got a nasty stomach bug, very unpleasant. But under that sickness, I thought I noticed a note of a very familiar, very particular type of nausea. I had been having some slight adhesion pains for a few days as well, but had written them off as nothing. Once the pains were paired with the nausea, the possibility of pregnancy was in my mind like a fish hook. It wouldn't let go. I wanted to wait it out, wait until the 18 days of high temps had gone by, letting me know I was definitely pregnant, but I was going crazy. This was not a good time for us to be pregnant, either financially or relationship-wise, and Emily was only a little over a year old. I decided that if my options were to test or drive myself crazy for another week, I should just test. When Chris went to work the day before Father's Day, I went out and bought a test. I used a self-checkout at the grocery store because I was so afraid of the comments that I thought I'd get towing a four year old and a one year old and buying nothing but a pregnancy test.

I considered waiting and using first morning urine, then decided it was now or never; I might lose my nerve. I took the test, left it sitting on the counter for three minutes while I pretended to be interested in a TV show. I couldn't bear to watch. I thought I was prepared either way, but I fully expected to get a negative and spend the rest of the evening laughing at myself, relieved, for being so silly. I walked into the bathroom and saw the biggest plus sign I'd ever seen. And the test line was so much darker than the control line that there was no way it was a mistake. I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. I walked out of the bathroom and sort of paced around the house for awhile, trying to catch my breath and wrap my mind around the idea that I was having another baby. It just couldn't be true. People with our history don't get pregnant without trying. They just don't. Except apparently they do.

Right before Chris came home, I wrapped the test up in a box and put it on his computer. When he came home I told him it was an early Father's Day present. He opened the box, looked at it for a long time, then turned to me and said, "Okay, so you aren't pregnant." I was a little stunned for a second, then said something like, "A plus means I AM pregnant..." Then it was his turn to be stunned for awhile. I tried to let him have his space to digest the news. I hadn't mentioned anything specifically about thinking it was possible that I was pregnant, but he usually knows what's going on. He told me later he knew I had gotten a pregnancy test that day. Just suddenly knew it. A feeling.

Obviously, we've both come around since then. We are very happy to be welcoming this third baby into our lives. Maddie is thrilled to be having another baby. She says it's a little brother and has named him God, for reasons only she knows. Emily didn't seem to be aware of anything for a long time, but they pick up more than we know. A few weeks ago, she was cuddled up against my tummy when she got a hard kick. She looked up at me and said, "Oh, baby in 'ere," and gave my tummy a kiss. Now she says it all the time. She's getting so big. They both are.

It seems so strange to be thinking of starting again with another tiny newborn... little onesies...nursing round the clock. But I know that this baby was meant to be a part of our family, right now. I can't wait to meet him or her.

Because it was there?

2008-11-12T21:16:00.004-06:00

One of the ICANers recently linked to this blog post. Obviously, I just had to have one! Why? Because it's cute, it's funny and my knitted uterus needed a friend. Only one problem- there is no pattern! I searched the web and couldn't find a pattern for a knitted placenta anywhere. So I decided to make my own! Here's how it turned out:

In case anyone is interested, I used four double pointed needles to make a hexagon, exactly from the instructions I found here. Then I used a spool knitter to make the cord and sewed it to the center hole of the hexagon. Instant placenta! It only took about two hours to make... I'm sure a really experienced knitter could make one of these in no time. Happy knitting!

25 weeks

2008-11-01T16:06:00.001-05:00

Time for a new belly picture!

Emotions...

2008-10-30T12:04:00.003-05:00

I've spent the last few days moving files from my almost-full laptop hard drive to my new external hard drive. Yesterday and today I've been moving and reorganizing pictures. Of course, I spent a lot of that time marvelling over how much my babies have grown. But I was also amazed at how many pictures there are of me holding Maddie when she was just a few months old. In all of them, I'm grinning ear to ear. Why shouldn't I be? It was a fabulous time. I had my precious and much-desired baby girl in my arms, I felt really good about the way I looked for the only time in my life, we were looking at buying our first home in just under a year. I look at these pictures and I remember how genuinely happy I was. It was awesome.

Yet, this is also during the time that I was crying myself to sleep every night. Things were starting to look up a bit, but they were still pretty bad. I had found ICAN by this point, but I was still traumatised. Chris and I were past talking about divorce, but it was still very tenuous.

I just can't help my amazement that I could be so genuinely happy and so genuinely miserable at the exact same time. The best time of my life and the worst all wrapped up together. It is an odd thing that people can manage to feel such extremes at the same time, while still keeping them, for the most part, separate. My sadness and pain rarely interfered with my ability to appreciate and even relish the good times. I'm so very grateful for that.

15 Weeks

2008-10-03T21:18:00.001-05:00

Yep, a very late post. But here is my 15 week belly picture.

20 weeks!

2008-10-03T18:46:00.010-05:00

I know I really should have updated before now, but hey, I'm pregnant. I have an excuse. I'm 20 weeks along, for a few more hours anyway. I made it to the halfway point! YAY!

How about a quick rundown:

Morning sickness: Not as bad as with Maddie, but worse than with Emily. And for some reason, it has gotten worse since I hit the second trimester rather than better. That seems pretty unfair.

Energy: Low. I am still waiting on the second trimester energy boost. Pretty sure it isn't coming. I'm sure that has to do wih chasing two active kids and still aving morning sickness though.

Movement: Lots... and lots... and lots. Maddie was a very active baby and Emily was pretty quiet. This baby seems even more active than I remember Maddie being at this age. It is constant kicks and flutters, rolls and somersaults. I love it!

Belly size: Huge. I've seen full term pregnant women with bellies smaller than mine. The twin question is already coming up frequently. But I'm just one of those people who get HUGE. I had an ultrasound that I didn't want with Emily because I let the size of my belly get to me, and got concerned about twins. I'm not doing that this time. I'm not really worried. If it's twins, I'll know when I need to know. But I don't think I'm that much bigger than I was when I was at this point in my pregnancy with Emily, or even Maddie. And I expect to get much, much bigger. Really, I don't expect to be able to reach my belly button by the time I hit 40 weeks. I'm not uncomfortably large yet, and I can move around pretty easily. I am growing out of my maternity pants though.

Mental state: Improving. I went through a really bad patch where I really didn't want to have to give birth again. As I whined to Chris once, "I haven't forgotten yet!" It wasn't the pain, really, but the exhaustion. I am a girl who needs her sleep! Spending days awake laboring is not my idea of a good time. Here are a couple of posts I made to the ICAN and Birth After Cesarean lists when it was really bad.

Post 1:

I've been wanting to write this post for a while now, but I didn't know how to start. But last night I had a really awful dream that has been haunting me most of the day, so that seems like a good place to start. In my dream, I was in a hospital in labor. That sounds bad, but really it was kind of nice, because I was in a big room with three other laboring mamas. We were supposed to be in bed, but we were all on the floor in various positions, laboring over chux pads. None of us had any support people, so we were supporting each other. Suddenly I felt like pushing, and I felt something coming out, so I reached down, and I felt the cord. Only it felt way more like loops of intestines, tiny baby intestines, than cord. Then I thought, "wait, I'm only 15 weeks!" But I knew the baby had to come out now. So I pushed as hard as I could, and the baby was crowning, a good full-term sized baby head. But I couldn't get the baby out any further. I pushed and I pushed and it wouldn't come out. I knew my baby was dying, so I kept pushing and pushing. And then I woke up. I've never been so glad to wake up. It was a horrible dream, and it makes me want to cry now, thinking about it.
******

Okay, I had to take a mental health break for a few minutes. So, yeah. I'm scared. Of everything. I'm scared of something being wrong with the baby, but mostly I'm scared of labor. It doesn't really seem to make sense. I've done this twice now, and my last birth was pretty darn good, considering I had a hospital transfer. Most of both of my labors have been painless, just really, really long. I have a really high pain tolerance anyway, and I know this. But I recently had an experience that just scared the life out of me. I always get intestinal cramps as part of the way I do "morning" sickness. I know it, I expect it. Sometimes they hurt, but its usually not a big deal. About a week ago, though, I woke up with the most horrible cramps I've ever had. Before I woke up, the pain had been in my dreams. After I woke up, I was able to crawl into the bathroom and shut the door. At night that bathroom is the most complete dark, you could develop film in it. In between the cramps, I was sitting, rocking, crying. But during them, I couldn't do anything. I pretty much ceased to exist. Time stopped. There was nothing but the most complete, unbearable pain. My entire existence was that pain. I couldn't even think to myself that it would end, couldn't fathom that it was possible to not be in pain that way. It happened every couple of minutes for about half an hour. I couldn't even cry out to my husband, asleep beyond the door, not even in between the pains. It stopped after about half an hour, and its a good thing, because I probably would have passed out if I had had to go on like that much longer. I crawled back into bed, sweaty and crying that I couldn't go through anything like that ever again. I woke up my husband and just sobbed to him that there was no way I could labor with this baby. Because I knew in my (heart, soul, fear?) that it would be like that.

Even before that episode, and long before last night's dream, I've been obsessed with "What if I have placenta previa?" I thought I was afraid I'd have it, but after thinking about it for awhile, I realized I wanted to have it. Because I saw/see it as the only non-emergent reason I could schedule a cesarean and be able to say, "well, I didn't have any choice." But that's a total cop out, and I know it. Because if I really want to schedule a cesarean, I know I can walk into any OB's office and they'll gladly accommodate me. Certainly no one could say I wasn't informed enough to make the decision. I just want the decision not to be mine.

I don't want a cesarean. But I don't want to labor either. I don't even really want to acknowledge this pregnancy at all. It is a very unwanted pregnancy. Not the baby. If someone were to hand me my baby right now, I'd be thrilled to have it. But I am not pleased one little bit about an unexpected pregnancy and the fact that I have to get the baby out, one way or another. I thought that I'd feel better about it with time, but time seems to be flying by, and I just seem to be getting more resentful all the time. I don't know what to do or how to change it.

I feel like there was more I wanted to post about this, but I'm too drained to remember. If there was more, I'll post it later. Until then, I really need a nap and a good cry.

Post 2:

I was urged to keep talking, so I am...I'm still processing so much. The nightmares seem to have stopped, at least for now. I wanted to thank everyone who was concerned about my physical pain. I had tons of people ask me if it could be gallbladder pain. I doubt it, because I am quite sure it was intestinal cramping, like I've had so many times before, just intensified by a lot. It never happened before, and hasn't happened since, so I've decided not to worry about it. I suspect it may have been some sort of food poisoning, but I'm just guessing there.

I think I've moved past wanting to schedule a cesarean. Now I'm falling into the "well, I could just labor with a strong epidural..." I have a feeling I'll move out of this stage rather quickly though, as I know there are definite downsides to that. I'd actually have to labor for possibly days before I could get an epi I could be reasonably sure wouldn't interfere with my labor, and even then, it would have to be really light, so what's the point? The cesarean for me was a much harder thought to break, because, from a physical standpoint, my cesarean experience was good. I know that another one isn't guaranteed to go as well, but when my cesarean recovery was physically easier than my VBAC recovery, that's a hard thought to just brush away.

The particularly irritating thing is that I know darn well what I'm gonna do. I'm going to wait, go into labor on whatever schedule my body uses, labor according to that same schedule, and birth my baby. Hopefully in the quiet and privacy of my home. I just don't WANT to do it. So I feel like a tantrumy two year old."I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" My mind is trying desperately to find some way out of it... but I know there aren't any good easy ways out. Only through.

My midwifery studies ARE making it harder on me. A lot of this started when I was reading some articles on pain relief in labor. The message that I was getting out of it, even if it wasn't the author's intent, was that if you use any sort of pain relief, including water or breathing techniques or homeopathics, you aren't having a natural labor and you may as well go get an epidural now. Talk about depressing! I've decided that the mental place that I want to get to regarding that is: I'm informed enough to make any decision I darn well please and if I want a TENS machine and a birth pool and Hypnobabies and Rescue Remedy then I'm gonna have it, and you can't make me feel bad about it. Actually getting to that place is harder than it seems though. And now, not only having had a VBAC, but being a chapter leader AND a student midwife, I feel like I have something to prove. Even if I proved it to myself (and honestly, I don't think I have), I still feel like I have to prove it to the world... because it feels like everyone sees me as the girl who talks up homebirth but had two hospital-and-epidural births... so what does she know. How can I be a midwife if I don't have a homebirth myself? Then I also fear that all this worry is going to be a self fulfilling prophesy, and maybe I should just concentrate on having a fairly short, easy labor. But then if my labor is long and hard anyway, I won't be prepared and it'll be that much worse. Is there any way to prepare for the worst without thinking about it? That's what I tried to do last time, and look what it got me... an almost week-long early labor and forty hours of active labor... I just don't know if I can do it again...

Post 3:

For some reason I keep having bad dreams about being unable to push my baby out. The first one was really a nightmare- cord prolapse, all alone even though I was in a hospital, knowing my baby was dying and pushing with all of my might and not being able to get the head out. The others haven't been as bad, more frustrating- I know baby is fine, but no matter how hard I push I just can't get it to budge.

I'm not even sure why I'm dreaming about this. Consciously at least, pushing is my last worry. I didn't get to pushing with my c/s, so no prolonged pushing there, and about four contractions worth of pushing for my VBAC... and I loved it. I really enjoyed pushing. I might not have if it had lasted a long time, but it didn't, and I thought it was great to be able to DO something with all the energy pouring through me finally.

So why are all my bad dreams focusing on pushing and not the long, exhausting labor that I'm afraid of?

*********

But, like I said, my mental state is improving. I haven't come close to conquering all of my fears, but I'm working on them. I've hired a montrice, and I've lined up some good friends to come help out, so that there are enough people around me that they can take breaks and I won't ever be alone. Unless I choose to be. Chris and I are also going to be doing Hypnobabies. We have the home study course already, and we'll be starting it at about 24 weeks. I think that will help me to stay relaxed and maybe even sleep through the earlier part of my labor. Of course, we still have the birth pool, and I will definitely be using that! We are also going to try to make a birth stool and buy or rent a TENS unit. I've used TENS at my old chiropractor's office, and I love it. It is so relaxing. Like having a great back massage and the masseuse never gets tired!

I'm also just regaining my trust and confidence in my body. I know I can do this. And that is a HUGE leap from where I was just a month ago.

That's pretty much everything about me right now, at least in regards to this pregnancy. I need to update about school, too, but that'll have to be a different post.

A different perspective

2008-08-07T12:23:00.003-05:00

As I expected, Maddie came to me a few days after our cesarean/birth canal conversation to clarify a few points. Mostly her questions were repeats of what she asked when I first told her. Other times she just told me the story.

A couple of days ago, though, she asked again to see my "straight line." She looked at it while telling her birth story in her words: "I was a little baby in your tummy and when I got big you thought I was sick, so the doctors cut open your straight line to get me out fast but I was okay." Then she gave me a hug around my waist and said, "I love your straight line. I was okay cause I came out fast from your straight line."

I didn't and don't know what to say. Except that I have a new perspective on my scar. It no longer represents betrayal and pain to me. It represents love and sacrifice, and my willingness to do what I thought was best for my baby, even if it wasn't best for me.

Telling Maddie

2008-07-27T18:34:00.005-05:00

I've been stressing for awhile about how I was going to tell Maddie that she came via cesarean. She's been saying things like, "When I was a baby in your tummy and I got big, I came out of your birth canal." Each time it was like a little knife in my heart. Do the repercussions ever stop?

I knew I had to tell her, somehow, but I had no idea how to do it. I was a cesarean baby and it never seemed a big deal. I don't remember being told, or where I learned it. I want her to also have a sense of peace about it, just that it was and that's that. She's at a tender age though, and I was afraid she'd ask a lot of questions that I didn't think she was ready for the answers to.

I called my mom for advice, to find out how she told me, but she didn't remember ever having actually told me. She did give me some pretty good advice on easing into the information though, and I appreciated it.

So yesterday the moment came. We were watching one of my many "baby come out movies" and Maddie started talking again about how babies come out of birth canals and how when she was a baby she came out of my birth canal. I paused the movie, took a deep breath and just did it. I pulled up my shirt and showed her my scar.

"See this little line?"

Nodding

"When you came out of Mommy's tummy you didn't come out of my birth canal. You came out of that little line."

"Why?"

"We thought you were sick, so we wanted to get you out really fast. But once you were out, you were just fine."

"I commed out of that line?"

"Well, it wasn't a line when you came out. We thought you were sick, so the doctors made a little cut on Mama's tummy and got you out really fast. " She looked shocked and scared so I quickly added, "But it didn't hurt Mommy. Mama was fine."

"And I was fine after I was out?"

"Yes, honey, you were fine."

"Emily commed out of your birth canal?"

"Emily came out of my birth canal, yes."

"And I commed out of the line."

"Yes."

It went back and forth like this for a few more minutes while she clarified some of the points in her head, then she asked if she could touch the scar, which I let her do. Then we put the movie back on. We haven't discussed it anymore, but I know we will. Maddie is like that. She'll mull it over in the back of her mind for a few more days and then bring it up again in her own time. I will wait for her. I just hope I did okay. I hope I didn't tell her too much or too little and scar her. What does one say to a four year old about matters as adult as a cesarean, anyway? It was a conversation I had been dreading since the day she arrived. Somehow I don't feel any better now that it's over.

Maddie's Drawing

2008-07-14T17:19:00.002-05:00

Maddie is almost four and a half now. She understands the idea that there is a new baby in Mama's tummy and that when it gets big enough, it will come out. When asked where babies come from, her usual reply is "Tummies and uteruses and birth canals."

I know this. But I was still somehow unprepared to get this drawing today of "Mama with the new baby commin' out."

Announcing...

2008-07-14T17:11:00.003-05:00

okay, the video doesn't want to embed. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMaUa-WxHv8

This is a little video I made to share the news with our family that we are having a new baby!! I am due at the end of February again! I haven't been as sick this time around thankfully. Some nausea and lots of tiredness, but nothing too bad. I do need to get to the chiropractor soon though, as I can feel a bit of sciatica creeping up on me. I'll be sure to keep everyone posted about my pregnancy as it progresses.

Been a long time...

2008-06-05T13:56:00.002-05:00

Wow, its been awhile since I updated. Not because there was nothing going on, but because there is too much! I have been very busy with my AAMI classes. Since I last wrote, here's what happened:

~I got completely enrolled and was sent the Phase 1 assignments.
~I was offered their Introduction to Midwifery class for a steal, so I took it.
~I spent six months completing ITM (its a LOT of work!) and sent it in at the end of May. It is a great course. If birth or midwifery is something you are even remotely interested in, I recommend you take this course.
~I was also doing the Phase 1 assignments and I sent in my request to be sent Phase 2 on the same day I sent in my ITM assignments. Woohoo!
~I received my Phase 2 assignments and information yesterday and have been getting organised and ready to start! I'm so excited to be getting to the next step.

I'd love to give more detailed information, but I don't want to violate any copyrights or other such stuff. AAMI is a touch paranoid about having non-students get access to the course material. Of course, if I poured my heart and soul into something and people were stealing my work, I'd be paranoid about it too! So I understand their concern.

I'm also thinking more and more about an apprenticeship, even though it really isn't feasible right now. I REALLY want to start apprenticing! One of these days, I'd also like to take an internship trip somewhere that I can get experience in a higher-volume birth center. A friend of mine is getting ready to go to the Philipines on a trip like this in a few weeks. I just hope she blogs it so I can live vicariously!

At any rate, I am loving my classes, and I am learning more than I would have expected by this point. I'm busy, busy, busy working on all the assignments, but it feels like "me time" instead of work. Hopefully I'll remember to update again sooner than six months.

Video: VBAmultipleC

2008-03-12T17:41:00.003-05:00

Video: Empty

2007-11-16T15:59:00.001-06:00

Video: Question CPD

2007-11-16T15:52:00.001-06:00

Enrolled

2007-11-16T09:00:00.000-06:00

My enrollment process for AAMI has begun!! I got the Email this morning! I'm still not sure what all I have to do to get completely set up, it seems to be a follow-this-step-and-then-we'll-tell-you-what-the-next-one-is sort of thing. But I'm started! And I'm so happy!

Anxious

2007-11-09T19:10:00.000-06:00

I sent out my application and payment for Ancient Art a few days ago. I am really anxious to hear back. I guess now I probably have to wait until at least Monday. Agghhh! I am far from patient on the best days; this is making me crazy!

Another Dream

2007-11-01T18:28:00.000-05:00

In my dream Emily is only a few weeks old and is sleeping upstairs. Maddie is asleep in her room. I start having some uncomfortable stomach pains, so I head to the bathroom, thinking that is the problem. I barely get the door shut when a very intense pain drives me to my knees. I reach down and feel a baby crowning. I gently push and slowly guide the head out of my body with my hand. I can feel the damp softness of the baby's hair, and I can feel the baby both inside and outside of me. I give another small push and bring the baby up to my chest. She is a girl, and she doesn't utter a sound, but I can see she is breathing. I sit quickly, and feel her weight in my arms. Chris comes in the room and, like me, is shocked to see we have another baby. But I am too caught up in the exquisite perfectness of this birth to think about anything else.

The dream ended there. I had this dream a few weeks after Emily was born. I had nearly forgotten about it until about a week ago, when it resurfaced in my mind. What amazed me then, as now, was how vivid the dream was. I could feel the pain of the contractions, the stretching of my perineum. I could feel the downy softness of her head, and her legs as she left my body. I could smell the birth fluids. The tile floor felt cold under me. At the time, it helped me feel like I regained some of what I had lost when Emily was born in the hospital.

But the dream has come back. My mind cannot seem to let go of it. Even when my conscious mind is elsewhere, I can feel it playing on the edges of my subconscious. I have not yet caught what this dream is trying to teach me, but I felt compelled to share it.

Happy Dancing!

2007-10-31T20:59:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I was offered a really good deal on tuition to the midwifery school I want to attend, Ancient Art (http://www.ancientartmidwifery.com/ ). It was a deal that I really couldn't pass up, but it looked like I might have to, becuse we were having trouble finding a way to get the money together. So we decided that it would be worth taking out a small personal loan to pay for it.

Today it was approved!! So I get to enroll sometime in the next few days! I just need to wait for the deposit into our account.

I am so excited!

New baby?

2007-10-28T17:36:00.000-05:00

It looks like there will be at least one more baby added to our family.

No, I'm not pregnant.

Chris was told two days ago that he will be going to Iraq for a year starting in January. He may get to come home for a few days in March between training and leaving the country, but he will be gone the majority of 2008. He left for a deployment when Maddie was 11 months old, and now he will be leaving when Emily is 10 months old. He will miss that wonderful 12-18 months old stage in both of our girls.

We have already been discussing the possibility of having another child in a few years. We are young, and aren't sure we are ready to give up our childbearing years quite so soon. Besides, I feel strongly that there is one more little girl waiting to join our family. This has just probably sealed the deal, provided we can have another, never a sure thing with our history.

Hopefully the next time, he will be home for her whole babyhood.

Teresa's HBA3C story

2007-10-18T13:40:00.000-05:00

This is the story of my friend Teresa's home birth after three cesareans. She made this gorgeous video that is making the rounds and changing birth perceptions everywhere. Her baby, Aidan, was born not long after Emily. So when her waters broke days before labor started, talking together about our similar experiences was natural. I was honored to share this experience with her.

Here is her video:

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Here is her birth story, in her own words, and posted with permission:

The Birth of Aidan Michael
Having already had 3 Cesareans, the last one being a homebirth transport, I was at a loss for what to do in the way of birth plans with this pregnancy. What I really was hoping for was to find someone who could take a look at my medical records with me (including mention of my ‘markedly thin lower uterine segment’, my ‘narrow pubic arch’, my ‘single-sutured uterine closure’, my ‘incisional hernia’ and whatever else labels I had worried myself about) and talk with me about the risks and the benefits of having another Cesarean vs. having a homebirth. I spent a lot of hours praying and asking God to please instill in me the wisdom to know what His will was for this birth and this baby. I quickly ruled out a hospital vbac, knowing that it wasn’t an environment where I could labor effectively or feel comfortable in; therefore, I really wasn’t interested in pursuing it as an option. This left me with the options of having another Cesarean or birthing my baby at home. I called around, talked to various midwives, and got a referral to a DEM who had gone back to osteopathic school to become a doctor, opened her own birth center, and still did home births as well (along with having a family practice). She was in a very rural community 3 hours away and I decided to make the trek down to see her. The minute I met her, it was an instant “click” and I knew that I wanted her involved in my birth in some capacity. As she listened to the stories of my previous Cesareans, she said to me with tears in her eyes, "There is nothing wrong with your pelvis, your uterus, or any other part of your body. What you need is to be left alone while you labor. You need to feel free to do whatever you need to do without anyone watching you. Your assignment is to figure out what you need in order to feel uninhibited and to birth this baby." I thought a lot about that in the subsequent months, and came to realize that she had hit the nail on the head, and what I needed in order to feel safe was to be left alone to do the work of labor, to not feel watched, or timed, or scrutinized in any way. I also knew that I definitely wanted Sarita to be a part of this journey, so I hired her, knowing that she could only come if it was on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday. I interviewed several other midwives in the area. I ended up hiring another midwife, Donna, as my primary attendant. The thing that most attracted me to her was that her philosophy could really be summed up in two words: Birth Works. I don’t think I have ever met another person who believes this as wholly and adamantly as Donna does. Funny thing is, from the time I hired them, I always had a feeling that neither of them would be there for the actual birth, but was hiring them for what they might be able to provide me along the way.
I woke up around 3:40am on April 3 to use the bathroom and found that my pajama pants were soaked and so was the bed. “Hmmm… that’s strange,” I thought. I wondered if my water had broken or if I was maybe having some weird dream about going to the bathroom and peed on myself. “But that is a LOT of liquid; I really don’t think I would pee my pants.” So I got up and walked to the bathroom and nothing was leaking out, and after all it was still another 5 days before my due date. I was expecting to go somewhere between 41-42 weeks like last time. So I changed my pants, laid a towel down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep. But I was soon hit with a pretty big contraction. I glanced at the clock and 5-6 minutes later, another one hit. They continued coming fairly regularly but were only lasting about 30 seconds. “Oh NO! Just like last time!” I thought and I started to cry, thinking this was surely the result of another malpositioned baby, even though I had worked so hard, and tried so hard to get this baby into the right position. I decided to go downstairs and read a couple of my most inspirational birth stories that I had saved for such an occasion. As I got up, a huge gush of fluid came out. Okay, now I knew I didn’t pee my pants that time. So I went to the computer room, and instead of reading birth stories, I decided I’d better finish the assignments I had due for school that week. I started typing term papers, breathing through contractions, and doing laundry all at once (such is the life of a mom I suppose). The contractions continued on for another 2 hours or so and when Steve got up for work, I told him that “today is the day” and he began setting up the birthing tub and cancelling meetings and such. Shortly thereafter, my contractions completely stopped. They didn’t just space out or become less intense. They were totally GONE! But I was actually thankful for the break, as it would allow me time to get the kids to school, get my assignments dropped off, and get some last minute errands done before labor geared up.
I called Donna and also Sarita (knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it since it was a Tuesday, but still wanted to let her know what was going on). Donna advised me to try to get some rest and eat well for what was to come. Nothing. Not another contraction all day long!! So I went to bed that night a bit discouraged and disappointed. I prayed that God would give me patience and faith to make it through this time of uncertainty. If there was one thing I didn’t prepare for it was PROM. (Note: PROM- Premature Rupture of Membranes) I had worked on issues in my mind, such as going postdates, posterior baby, back labor, etc. etc. But never PROM; it just never entered my mind. I thought as long as I had maintained excellent nutrition, which I had, then my amniotic sac would be super strong, and my labor would surely not start with ROM. Wrong! So what could I do? I went on about my day as usual, then settled into bed early that night. Around 3am, I was awakened by a contraction, followed 5 minutes later by another, and another. They weren’t the kind that you can just ignore or sleep through. These required all of my attention and so I got up, got onto the birth ball and breathed and moaned. Steve heard me and woke up, asking what he could do. I told him I wanted him to get some sleep because we may have a long road ahead of us (little did I know). The contractions continued on for about 3 hours. And as the sun came up, they stopped, not another one.
I was still leaking fluid and it was filled with white substance, which I couldn’t figure out what it was, worried that perhaps I had a yeast infection or something. Donna came that afternoon and when I showed her the pad, she told me “That’s vernix.” “Vernix? From my baby?” Somehow this notion was just so exciting to me!! It meant there was really a baby in there. S/he seemed so close now that I was seeing his/her vernix. Wow!! Donna checked my vital signs, fetal heart tones, etc. and everything looked perfect. “Well, it certainly won’t be long now.” she said as she left. I look online to find that 90% or something like that of women go into active labor within 72hours of their water breaking, if left alone. That was so exciting and I began to wonder if it would be this afternoon, or tonight, or maybe even tomorrow. I asked my friend Clare & her husband to come stay in our basement until the birth, as she was my chiropractor / acupuncturist / photographer / moral support for the birth and I didn’t plan on doing it without her there! So the 72 hours passed and I was faced with what to do. Do I attempt to nudge things to get started? Sex is out, swimming is out, warm baths are out…ugh! Donna showed up on Thursday with a big bottle of castor oil, “just in case” I wanted to get things going. Was she starting to worry? Starting to doubt? It didn’t sound like it by her words, but why then, did she bring that castor oil with her? I decided that she just must not be used to patient women, and wanted me to have options. So I sat it up on top of the refrigerator, where I would take it down and look it over from time to time, but I knew that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was monitoring my pulse, temperature, and blood pressure every few hours during the day, as well as monitoring the baby’s heart rate and everything was perfect, solid as a rock. As I would pray for guidance, I would realize that I truly was okay with waiting, and Donna was okay too.
I continued to trudge along, day after day, wishing I had told NO ONE about my broken water, not even Donna or Steve or Clare. If I hadn’t, they would just be looking at me like a normal 40 weeks pregnant woman, but instead I felt like they were looking at me like a “watched pot” all of a sudden (which they all swear was my perception, not their feelings). Each night I would have regular contractions and each morning they would disappear. . On Friday afternoon I had my first (and only) bout of “daylight contractions” and they were incredibly strong, and all in the front around my scar area. This did worry me a bit at first, but soon I began to welcome them and to be thankful that at least it wasn’t all back labor like last time. Sarita came to spend the weekend with me that weekend, and she seemed okay with everything. I really think she thought I was going to have a baby that weekend; I was hopeful that I would too. It was Easter weekend. We had fun, pretending to be on a mountain vacation, talked a lot about my hopes and fears and worries and it was incredibly therapeutic. But…she left and still no baby. I still felt okay with waiting for this baby to emerge when the time was right.
I figured that Monday’s middle of the night labor episode would be the one that turned out to be the “real thing”, since the kids would be back in school from their spring break and I could concentrate on laboring. I was going on a week now with ruptured membranes, and had moments of complete panic and worry, but when I would stop and really sit with things for awhile and ask what I was being called to believe, I would have a real sense of peace that all was okay. It was a strange peace that I have never had about anything before. In the moments when I felt weak and was ready to take herbs, or drink the castor oil, or do the nipple stimulation, I would stop and ask myself if it was really the right path for me, and get a resounding NO. So I wouldn’t do it. The waiting was SO hard though, but still I was okay with waiting. At the times that I would be ready to give up and go sign in at the local hospital for a c/section, I would get a kind word or email, or showing of support from someone that would keep me going and remind me of what I was waiting for. The greatest gift from this experience was that I was able to see a hint of my strength even before “real” labor began. I was able to really get in touch with my body and what my needs and wishes were during all of this. I did do a lot of acupuncture in those days to get the baby lined up optimally, to keep me calm and in a good space, and to get my body prepared for a smoother, gentler labor when it did kick in.
The days went by slowly, each one longer than the one before. I was vigilant about monitoring my wellbeing, and the baby’s. I began to take antibiotics as a preventative measure, going into the second week. I haven’t ever been a big fan of antibiotics, but their use seemed prudent to me as the days wore on. I think this was the only hint of “intervention” I had during the process. I was beginning to grow impatient, but still I knew that waiting was better than any of the alternatives.
Saturday, April 14 rolled around, and while it seemed to be much like the previous 11 days, there was also something distinctly different about it, about me that day. The peace I’d been feeling for the previous weeks seemed to have dissipated; I was CRANKY! I was irrational, unreasonable, and just beside myself. I was thoroughly finished with being pregnant, was certain that this baby was just not going to come out without being cut out, and that I was surely broken. As Clare tried to convince me otherwise, and coax me onto the treadmill, or into some other sort of movement or motion to elevate my mood, I lost it. I told her how “I have done everything within my power to get this baby into a good position and try to get it to want to be born. I have done chiropractic and acupuncture every week for the past 9 months. I have meditated, I have visualized, I’ve talked to the baby, I’ve exercised faithfully, I’ve done OFP so much my knees are bruised, I just can’t to anymore. I can’t listen to you blaming me for not doing enough! I have had it. I am DONE! I am just DONE!! Why can’t you just admit that I am BROKEN? It is time for me to just throw in the towel and admit that my body is broken! My pelvis is messed up and I can’t birth this baby!” and with that I stomped off in a rage. All the while, she is going on about how that is not the truth and that she is NOT going to accept it, how I *know* it is not the truth and for me to stop sulking, snap out of it, and get back to focusing on truth.
After taking the afternoon off from everyone and spending the great majority of it sobbing and wailing and lamenting of how I was tired of being pregnant, I managed to pull it together that evening and went to church with the family. It was a nice service with songs that seemed to be chosen especially for me. I was able to ground myself once again and start to capture some of the peace that I felt was trying to elude me. By the end of the service around 8:00, I had made amends with my body, and had decided once again that everything was okay, that things were happening on the timetable they needed to be on and that I was okay to be pregnant for another few days, at least until after Tuesday, the new moon, and then I would re-evaluate (for some reason, it helps me to just take things a few days at a time). About 2 ½ hours later, around 10:30 while I was sitting in the living room talking with Steve and Clare, I was nailed with a contraction. “Oh boy, here we go again,” I thought, as it seemed that my stop-start labor was going to start again tonight, albeit earlier than usual. The contractions were coming every six minutes or so apart and were requiring my attention. They continued on as they had over the previous “labor episodes” in their pattern of 5-6 minutes apart, yet only lasting about 30 seconds each.
Around 1:00am, everyone decided to go to bed and I thought it would probably be best if I got some sleep too “just in case” this ended up lasting awhile. As soon as I lay down, however, the contractions became almost unbearable. I needed to be up on my feet and moving my hips to cope with them. So I got up and put on my MP3 player, already loaded with all of the music I had chosen for this labor. I started walking around the bedroom, lying over the birth ball between contractions. After a few more, I went downstairs and spent the next hour or so “dancing” through the contractions. At one point, I decided that I felt nauseous and it seemed like a good idea to force myself to throw up (ugh!). It actually did make me feel better, for whatever reason and I went back to the work of laboring. It was a beautiful spring night, so I decided to go out on the front porch and I wrapped up in a blanket on the wicker furniture. I would stand up during a contraction and move my hips around in large circles or figure 8’s, and turn up the “labor music” and breathe and moan as I felt the surge overtake me. Then between the contractions, I would turn the music off and sit quietly, enjoying the sound of the crickets and the brightness of the moon. I think it was at some point during my time outside that I realized “I think I might actually be in labor this time. It’s been over four hours now, and things do not seem to be going away, but getting more intense.” As soon as that thought entered my mind, an instant excitement filled the air, and I was almost giddy with anticipation. Here I was in the stillness of the night, laboring alone in peace and working beautifully through each of these contractions! It was as if I was dreaming and I started to cry & think to myself, “I have waited for so many years for this moment and it’s finally here!!”
As I stepped up the step to go back inside, I could literally feel the baby’s head moving down lower into my pelvis and feel my pelvic bones slowly stretching apart. The contractions became even more intense and immediately went to about 3 minutes apart. I started to feel a little panic rain over me, as I attempted to work through the contractions by holding on to a ledge in our kitchen that is about chest high and then letting my body just kind of “hang” from my arms. I was thinking back to how, in my last labor I wanted to be constantly leaning forward, whereas this time leaning forward was painful. I had to be upright, or almost leaning back, moving my hips around the entire time in order for the contractions to feel “right” (albeit VERY intense), rather than painful. I was thinking how some support would probably feel really nice right now, but I didn’t think I could make it up the stairs to wake Steve. So I continued on like this for…no idea how long…I’m guessing another hour or so, with thoughts of how thankful I was that the contractions were so much more in my front than in my back. I was certain now that this was the real deal and that sometime today I would meet my baby, although I was figuring it would probably be somewhere around dinner time.
Finally, at the end of a contraction (which now had gotten to be about 2 minutes apart), I literally bolted up the stairs as fast as my hugely pregnant self could carry me before another contraction hit. I burst into my bedroom and yelled “Steve, I’m in labor! Get up NOW!” Poor guy, a bit of a rude awakening for 3:45 in the morning!! I told him, “I think you’d better call Donna and let her know the contractions are 2 minutes apart, but only lasting about 45 seconds.” So he did, as I focused on a contraction and making it through, telling myself that it was the last one I would have to do without his support. “Donna wants to know if you are ready for her to come now.” “No, I just wanted her to be aware,” I said, surprising myself a bit by this response. So he hung up the phone and said, “She said okay, but please call back whenever they start lasting longer, or you feel like you are ready for her. She will come whenever you need her.” He then got to work filling up the birth tub, and I ordered him over to put pressure on my sacrum. “Harder…lower…2 hands…” I bark, as the contraction begins to feel as though it will consume me. After the contraction, he goes back to his work with the birthing pool, but no sooner does he get started that another contraction hits. “Steve, my back, please!” (Much to my (& everyone else’s) surprise, I was a very polite laborer). “LOWER! 2 HANDS! Horizontal, not vertical!” (direction of his hands). It was all I could do to eek out little 1-2 word phrases to express my needs at this point. This became our routine, he would press on my back, I would rotate my hips & do this strange thing with my arms, where I would shake them really fast through the contraction. Then it would end, he would go back to his ‘birth tub’ work and I would rest for a minute or so until the next contraction hit and we would slip back into our routine again. My state of mind seemed to be sort of hypnotic, where I became unaware of nearly everything around me, other than the powerful sensations coming through my body.
We continued on with the routine for probably 15-20? contractions, at which point I announce, “Uh oh!! I really am going to be sick!” and I rushed to the bathroom and started throwing up WHILE having a contraction. This was the only time during labor that I worried my uterus might rupture. There was such an incredibly strong, painful force seemingly going in 2 different directions in my body, with the vomiting and the contraction. It was almost more than I could take. After the contraction ended, I told Steve “I think you’d better call Donna back and tell her I’m throwing up. They say that can mean transition, but I’m sure I’m not in transition yet.” So he called her back and she said she would leave right away and be there in an hour. I then asked Steve to go down to the basement and wake Clare to come up. While he was gone, I had 2 more contractions that I had to find a way to cope with on my own, without our routine. I decided to sit on the toilet through those contractions and do the arm shaking thing (still no idea why I did this, but it felt right at the time). Those 2 contractions felt very ‘forced’ to me because I wasn’t able to swivel my hips the way I needed to. I was so relieved when he came back into the room and Clare too, and quickly got back into the routine over in the corner by my side of the bed, in a space so small that Steve could barely fit in there with me. But that is where I felt comfortable and secure. I would look around to make sure Clare was still in sight, grab hold of Steve, place my right leg up on this stool, keep my left knee on the ground, swivel my hips, shake my arms, and have Steve pressing firmly on my sacrum. My mind was just filled with such a feeling of strength and triumph and anticipation already, interspersed with moments of fear and doubt. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am doing this work of birthing my baby!” I would think, followed by “There is no way I can do this for much longer. The intensity of this is just ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do this?” As soon as I would begin to entertain such thoughts, I could feel Steve’s strong, protective hands back on my body in just the right way to re-center me and re-affirm that all is well.
Around an hour or 2 after we made the 4:30am call to Donna, the doorbell rang and a few moments after that, Ruth (the back up midwife) appeared at my bedroom door. “Why is she here? Where is Donna? What is going on?” were thoughts all running through my mind, but I wasn’t coherent enough to verbalize anything or really even to care much. I continued to stay deep, deep inside myself, deeper than I had ever gone before, doing this incredibly intense, difficult work. I later found out that Donna’s road had been flooded and she was having a hard time getting out of her driveway. Ruth asked how I was feeling and I gave her a look and a grunt. She started talking with Clare about what had been going on, how long, etc. etc. and I just pointed at them both and screamed, to which my loving husband translates into, “If you two want to talk, you need to step outside the door. She doesn’t want you talking right now.” I nod my head “yes that is right. Thank you.” and we got back to business.
It was strange really, looking back. Before Ruth arrived, I had no conscious awareness of anyone else in the room, or even the world. I had this concentrated belief that this was all within me, I was the ONLY one who could do this job. But then when she arrived, I began to get sidetracked and a bit panicky. I started looking to her to save me or something, asking her “Am I okay? Is everything alright?” to which she would reply, “Do you think you’re okay? Do you feel like everything’s alright?” and when I would ask, “What if I need to go to the hospital?”, she would reply “Do you feel like you need to go to the hospital?” and unfailingly turn all of my doubts and fears back onto me, and force me to go even deeper within myself and trust my instincts, to which I would immediately get an answer, “Of course I’m okay. I am birthing my baby” or “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Drugs sound mighty nice right now, but I am doing just fine without them.” At some point, Steve made the crazy suggestion that I might be more comfortable up on my bed for a few contractions (I think *he* would be more comfortable with me on my bed LOL). Up I went for one horrendous, terrifying, excruciating contraction. I started just SCREAMING! (up to this point, I had been moaning and making beautiful birth sounds during the contractions). After it ended, I couldn’t get off of that bed and back into my corner quickly enough. Then Ruth started blathering something about a blood pressure cuff, to which I snapped “Don’t know where it is. DON’T CARE!!”
At one point during my laboring, I could hear some rattling sounds over top of my music…the sound of a sterile glove being unwrapped. My body clinched up, I turned off the music, and I started crying like a big baby, “Oh please PLEASE no! I don’t WANT a vaginal exam. If it shows that I’m not making any progress, I will be SO disappointed. Please no!” Ruth answered, “Teresa, I’m not doing a vaginal exam. You sound very ‘pushy’ and I just want to place my hand down there underneath you to make sure there’s not a baby about to fall out onto the ground.” Uh…did she say “pushy”? Did she mean…does this mean…nah, can’t be…I don’t get to pushing. My body is broken and I give in way before any pushing starts. Fast forward another, probably 5? minutes or so (I had/have no concept of time whatsoever in this birth…I only know what time the first contraction came, what time everyone went to bed, and the times that I woke Steve up and had him call Donna, thanks to the phone bill). So 5 or so minutes later, I heard the crinkly sound again overtop of my music, “What are you doing? No! No exams! I am probably not dilating at all and I can’t hear that news. Please!! Please!!” I say, figuring I will only be setting myself up for huge disappointment. Again, she assured me that “Of course you’re dilating, you are pushing!” and she placed her hand underneath me to see if there is a baby head hanging halfway out because I sound like I’m pushing at the end of each contraction & it is impossible for another person to get back into this tiny space I’m in, particularly in this peculiar position with one leg up on the stool, one knee on the ground.
After that contraction, she asked if I would be willing to move out to the middle of the room, or into the birthing tub, or somewhere else (she is seeing that birth is imminent; I am not seeing it). “No, I like it here. I want to stay here.” Steve then picked up the stool I’d been leaning on and said “Come on, T. We’ll go to my side of the bed. There’s more room over there.” And so up I go. As I got halfway around the bed, I have a contraction in the middle of the room. It’s terrible, painful, scary! I feel so exposed and vulnerable! As soon as it ends, I rushed back into a corner on his side of the bed (which does have more space, but not much), “assume the position” that I have become so fond of, and turned my back to everyone else in the room. About that time, this unbelievable, out-of-nowhere, extraterrestrial-feeling compulsion invades every cell of my body and I feel every single inch of myself start to push and heave and thrust and work and groan. What on earth? And then a small voice inside my head says “Hey, I wonder if I’m pushing?” (Okay…so I’m a bit slow to figure things out). I put my hand down and reach inside my and I feel the most indescribable, inexpressible, utterly beyond words sensation that my fingertips have ever felt. There it was, no more than an inch or 2 inside my body, my baby’s head. My. baby’s head. It was at that moment that I believed, wholly believed, for the first time since the scalpel made its first cut eleven years earlier, that I was going to give birth to my baby. I was capable, my body was perfectly made, my pelvis was adequate, my uterus was strong, and my baby was about to be born. I was suspended in this hazy, quasi-reality…the moment froze and a flood of emotions just rolled over me. I was caught between wanting to just stop everything right there and savor this most miraculous experience that I have ever been a part of and wanting to push with everything I had in me to get this baby out here and kiss his/her beautiful face and touch that squishy head with my chin and my lips and hold him/her close to me.
Eventually the latter won out and I started pushing with another contraction, all the while thinking “Well, I am almost 100% sure this baby is going to come out my butt. But there is not a thing I can do about it, but get it out.” I was remembering other women’s similar experiences on the ICAN list about pushing being “shockingly rectal” or something like that, and that gave me some comfort, but mostly I just felt like I didn’t really care if it did decide to come out my butt. Again, I put my hand down there and felt that amazing baby head, and someone asks “What are you doing? Why are you putting your hand down there?” “Because, there is a baby right there. It’s about to be born.” At this proclamation, the scurrying began, grabbing cameras and blankets and getting in position to hopefully get a hand on this baby, although as the midwife said, this had to have been the most difficult position for her to get in there and catch the baby, and to which I replied, “I really was unconcerned with your comfort or ease at that point.”
I laid my head down and rested and maybe even dozed for a few minutes while waiting for the next contraction. It was so quiet and so surreal to me right then. There was nowhere else in the world I would want to be, nowhere in the world was anything as important going on as this undertaking right here. As the contraction began to build, I raised my head, gathered up every ounce of anything I had and gave a huge push and felt this incredible sensation of the slippery, squishy head sliding through and out of my body, followed by the body. I looked up in my foggy haze and asked “What do I do now?” to which my darling husband quickly replies, “DON’T SIT DOWN!” LOL…the baby was right under me. Ruth calmly unwrapped the cord from his neck and handed him to me. “6:56a.m.” Clare announced. So he was born after about 8 ½ hours of active labor, 20 or so total hours of some intense prodromal labor, and nearly 2 weeks of ruptured membranes. I am SO thankful that it happened the way that it did and I got a lot of the ‘work’ out of the way as I went along. And also so thankful that I never had a vaginal exam so I never knew whether to be excited, frustrated, discouraged, etc. other than what my body told me to be.
I took him in my arms and the first thing I did was to thank him, “Thank you, thank you so much for doing this with me baby.” Then I turned to my husband and I have never seen such a look of awe and admiration and love in anyone’s eyes as I did in his at that moment, which probably mirrored what he say in mine. We just sat there for a moment and looked into each other’s eyes as I proclaimed, “We DID IT!!!! I did it!! I just pushed a baby out of my vagina. I really did it! I just can’t believe I did it!” I looked up and noticed another midwife, Martha, sitting by us. I didn’t even know she was there. Apparently she had arrived about 5-10 minutes before the birth. I continue to just ooh and aah and kiss and squeeze my baby and then it occurred to me that I had been calling the baby, “Baby Boy”. I didn’t even look to see if it was a boy. Oh no, what if it’s a girl, will she be traumatized? I quickly unwrapped the blanket and took a quick peek, “Oh, I KNEW you were a boy!!” and I started sobbing and just praising God with sheer joy and disbelief in my heart.
Someone helped me up onto the bed and I just laid there staring at my baby, all nestled up against my skin. I felt so warm and so full, so complete. Someone woke up the older kids, and my second son Evan came in and hopped up on the bed with us, meeting his new baby brother and having an image of ‘normal birth’ forever etched into his mind. About 20-30 minutes after the birth, Donna arrived and I got up and pushed out the placenta, got cleaned up a bit and hopped back into bed, where Clare soon served me the most delicious breakfast I have ever eaten in my entire life, of eggs, bacon, French toast, orange juice, etc. and I devoured every morsel of it. We chatted a bit with the midwives, to which one of my first questions to all of them was “What made you guys decide to take a chance on me? Why did you ever think I could do it?” and to which they each gave a variation of the same reply, “Of course you could do it. Why WOULDN’T we think you could do it?” Simple as that.

Video: 1 in 3

2007-10-17T19:39:00.000-05:00

WARNING: GRAPHIC SURGICAL IMAGES

The Women of ICAN. I'm the fourth picture from the beginning.

Here are the lyrics:

Catch me as I fall
Say you're here and it's all over now
Speaking to the atmosphere
No one's here and I fall into myself
This truth drives me
Into madness
I know I can stop the pain
If I will it all away
Don't turn away
(Don't give in to the pain)
Don't try to hide
(Though they're screaming your name)
Don't close your eyes
(God knows what lies behind them)
Don't turn out the light
(Never sleep never die)
I'm frightened by what I see
But somehow I know
That there's much more to come
Immobilized by my fear
And soon to be
Blinded by tears
I can stop the pain
If I will it all away
Don't turn away
(Don't give in to the pain)
Don't try to hide
(Though they're screaming your name)
Don't close your eyes
(God knows what lies behind them)
Don't turn out the light
(Never sleep never die)
Fallen angels at my feet
Whispered voices at my ear
Death before my eyes
Lying next to me I fear
She beckons me
Shall I give in
Upon my end shall I begin
Forsaking all I've fallen for
I rise to meet the end

"whisper" -- amy lee and ben moody

Where I Am- October 17, 2007

2007-10-17T09:54:00.000-05:00

So where am I now? Mostly, I'm just being a wife and mother. I'm taking care of my kids and watching them grow up both entirely too fast and, at times, not fast enough. I love them immensely.

When Emily was about a month old, I became a chapter leader for ICAN. I started ICAN of Kenosha, and the chapter has been struggling to get out to the people who need us. Yesterday, though, we had our first really successful meeting! The topic was vaginal breech birth, and we had a speaker and a video. Seven people came, including a couple pregnant with their first child, who is breech at 36 weeks. They drove nearly two hours just to come to this meeting! They were already pretty determined to avoid a cesarean, but I think the meeting cemented their decision. I really hope to have a lovely birth story from them soon.

I'm also finding myself drawn to midwifery again. I have two classes left to get my associates degree in college. I plan to finish those next semester, then enroll in Ancient Art Midwifery Institute. www.ancientartmidwifery.com I don't feel that I am quite ready to take on an apprenticeship, with being called out in the middle of the night, at all hours, with no warning. Chris's job coupled with how young my babies are make it really impractical. But I can go to school and start my academic training. At least it will feel like I'm taking steps toward my goal. I can't wait to get started.

Reflecting on Emily's birth

2007-10-12T20:47:00.000-05:00

A few things keep coming back to me about Emily's birth, over and over. The first is the amazing way the timing worked for me to get my VBAC. If Maddie hadn't thrown a three-hour fit, I would have gone in in the middle of the first OB-on-call's shift instead of at the end, and I would have been cut. If we hadn't hit every red light, a five minute trip wouldn't have taken twenty minutes. I would have been cut. If I had accepted the wheelchair, the walk down the hall wouldn't have taken as long. I would have been cut. If the new OB-on-call was in the hospital when I showed up, instead of in her office, I would have been cut. If a different anesthesiologist had been on call, I would have been cut. It came down to literally minutes between repeat cesarean and VBAC. I don't know what to make of it. My first instinct is to think that someone was watching out for me. But I still can't shake the "why me?" feeling that comes with that. Why would God be watching out for me, making it all go right for me, when it has gone so wrong for other women I know? I can't make sense of that in my head.

Still though, I am grateful. I never thought I'd be grateful for a gigantic fit in the middle of labor. But I am. I never thought I'd be grateful for red lights or long hallways. But I am. I am so grateful. I will never remember Emily's birth without a sense of awe at the timing perfection.

The second thing I can't stop thinking about is the impact of Maddie's arrival (I cannot bring myself to call it a birth) and Emily's birth on my relationship with Chris. We were discussing divorce after Maddie came. After Emily, we have never been closer. Almost the only thing I remember from that long night of labor in the basement is Chris holding me and talking me through the contractions. He was my rock, my protector, my support. We grew so close through the experience. I feel like I'm doing a horrible job of putting it into words. Maybe there are no words. I love him. He loves me. That is enough. That is everything.

A conversation with Maddie

2007-10-09T09:51:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, Maddie and I were cleaning her room. She found her little knitted "ooterush" (uterus. I had made a few of the uteruses for the conference. I gave Maddie the first one I made because she liked it so much.)

Maddie- "Mine uterus not have a ribbon and band-aid."

Me- "No, honey, your uterus doesn't have a ribbon or band-aid."

Maddie- "Mine uterus need a band-aid?"

Me, tears in my eyes- "No, honey, your uterus doesn't need a band-aid. Your uterus is healthy and strong."

Maddie- "Mine uterus not have owies?"

Me- "No, your uterus doesn't have owies."

Maddie- "Momma's uterus have owies?" -me nodding through the tears now- "I sorry Momma. Need a kiss?" -kisses my belly- "I love mine Mommy."

Me, down on my knees hugging her- "Mommy loves you too, so very, very much."

It was heartbreaking.

The ICAN conference

2007-10-08T11:07:00.000-05:00

My story wouldn't be complete without going back to talk about the ICAN conference.

When Emily was seven weeks old, we drove out to Syracuse to go to the conference. I had become a Chapter Leader about a month after Emily was born. I wanted to give back to ICAN. This group saved me, brought me back from the dark place I was lost in, and put me back together. I wanted to help someone else the same way.

I went to the chapter leader training before the main conference. I was in awe of some of the names on the name tags. These were people I respected so much. I had never met most of them in person. Some, I was just so glad to see again. I nearly burst into tears when I saw Tonya. It had been over 18 months since I had seen her. And Shannon, Shannon who talked me through part of my labor, I couldn't wait to show Emily to her. I wanted to give her a hug and thank her.

As a new leader, I learned so many helpful things during the training. The best part though, came at the end. We were gathered together, and the ICAN board read passages from the new book, Cesarean Voices. These were the stories of the women of ICAN. It was so moving. Everyone was crying. Then, the board members gave everyone a knitted uterus, and put a little band-aid on it. Tonya gave me mine. She said she knew a band-aid couldn't heal the hurt, but maybe it could help a little. Then she hugged me and told me she was so glad I was here. I started bawling on her shoulder and told her I really didn't think I would be here if it weren't for her. That set her off, and we were both just crying and crying. But it was somehow a really good cry. They were cleansing tears, tears of both pain and joy.

The conference itself was wonderful. There were so many wonderful speakers. I learned so much. The UBAC session was really hard on me though. I cried quietly most of the way through it. I was still in the "I failed" phase of my processing. Raechel, one of the speakers, noticed I was crying and handed me a box of tissue. It was a small act, but one that held so much love and caring. I was overwhelmed.

Of course seeing Shannon was so wonderful. There were just no words to express my gratitude to her. She held Emily and we chatted about everything. It was great.

Another highlight of the conference was buying my own copy of Silent Knife, the book that had helped me so much. Then I got it signed by Nancy Wainer, who had come to speak. She is an amazing woman. She seemed as thrilled to meet us as we were to meet her!

During the conference, another woman from the List, Missy, was in labor. It was a start and stop labor, and she was tired and frustrated. At one point we heard she may have transferred to the hospital. When Shannon came in and announced that Missy was holding her baby, at home in her bed... I can't describe the cheering. It was beautiful.

After the conference, I stayed and talked with another friend. We were going to just have lunch, but I ended up talking for almost five hours!! It felt so good to get everything off of my heart. That is when she told me those words that changed everything, "You simply got the support you needed, when you needed it."

I can't even try to explain all the ways this conference changed me, moved me, helped me grieve and helped me heal. I came home a changed woman.

Processing

2007-10-08T09:49:00.000-05:00

Physically, my recovery from my VBAC was difficult. I had a second degree tear that extended both up towards my urethra, and down into my perineum. The bottom tear extended about two-thirds of the way into my vagina. It took a lot of stitches to fix that up. It hurt for a long time, and took several months to heal completely. I don't have any residual effects, though.

Emotionally, I was in a bad place for a long time. You wouldn't think so, right? At least I got my VBAC, right? Yet I felt traumatised by it. But I couldn't pinpoint why I felt traumatised. Really, I was just grieving. I was grieving the loss of my UBAC, the loss of my homebirth, the loss of the calm quiet birth I had planned. I grieved the loss of catching my own baby, of being the first to touch her, of having her wet little body on my chest immediately. Even in my own mind I couldn't understand that these were very real losses. Of course I needed to grieve them.

Once again, I was spending my nights thinking about the birth, replaying it in my head. This time though, they weren't flashbacks, just memories. I cried a lot.

I was also insanely disappointed in myself. Yes, I had gotten my VBAC, but I gave up. I felt like a marathon runner who worked and trained for the race. I ran the first 20 miles and then quit. Someone picked me up in a golf cart and drove me to the finish line. I just had to walk the last five yards across the line. Yet I was being given full credit. It didn't make sense. I failed. I gave up. I deserved to be sitting there recovering from the second scar on my belly.

These feelings were compounded by the fact that not long after Emily's birth, a friend of mine had a very long labor like mine. She fought to the end and ended up with a CBAC anyway. (CBAC-cesarean after trying for a VBAC) I cried for so long when I heard. It just wasn't fair. How dare I give up and everything works out. She deserved it so much more.

I was very hard on myself for a long time. I just couldn't make sense of it. At the ICAN conference, a friend told me something profound, but I couldn't grasp the whole meaning of it then. "You simply got the support you needed at the time you needed it." At the time, it got me started thinking about things differently. But when it came back to me later, it changed my entire outlook.

One night, weeks later, I was thinking about Emily's birth, as I did often. This time, however, I really started thinking about the anesthesiologist. I started thinking about how I needed to find his name, I needed to send him a thank you note and let him know how it had worked out. Those words came back to me. "You simply got support..." Suddenly I realised, for the first time really, that I had changed my mind. I stood up to the OB when she was pushing for a cesarean. I pushed my baby out. I did those things, not the anesthesiologist. He reminded me of what I wanted when I forgot, but it was me who acted on that. I felt again like I had immediately after the birth. I did it! I did it!!

I had noticed that my cesarean had a lot less power over me now. I didn't understand it, but I felt healed. Eventually I figured out that I had the birth I really needed to have. In some ways, it was the birth of my dreams, literally. I realised that I had needed to go back into the place I was so afraid of. I needed to go back to the place (not the exact place, but it sufficed) where I had been brutalized the first time. This time, I stood up for myself. I took my power back. I had a second chance to do things over, and I took it.

I will always be sad about what I lost with Madelynn. My VBAC did not rewrite what happened to me the first time. And I can still be sad about the loss of my planned birth with Emily. But Emily's birth was the final step in my healing from my cesarean. I will always carry the scars, literally and figuratively, but I feel like a whole person again. I feel complete.

Comparison

2007-10-08T08:13:00.000-05:00

My first moments with Madelynn

My first moments with Emily

The first time I saw these pictures side by side, I was struck by how much my "smile" in the first one looks like it is painted on. I look like I really want to just scream.

Emily's birth story

2007-10-06T23:59:00.001-05:00

Towards the end of my pregnancy, I started having odd dreams. I remember two in particular.

The first:
I'm in the hospital and I just gave birth vaginally to a preemie. They whisked her away right away and I didn't even get to see her. This is all dream
knowledge, because the dream opened with me in the hall. They want to take me to a recovery room and I'm refusing to get in the wheelchair. I'm going to walk, thank you very much. So they give me a room number and tell me to find it myself. I have to go down a flight of stairs only to find that I'm not on the maternity floor, but stuck in a room on the first floor that they reserve for people whose babies have died. I get really mad and I call the nurse on a telephone on a desk in the middle of the hall. I tell her we are going home right now. I send DH up to get the baby while I'm arguing with the nurse. She keeps telling me the baby won't eat and can't go home. I then "know" in that dream way that they tried to give her a bottle and she wouldn't take it and right now are trying to put a feeding tube down her nose. Suddenly Chris comes down the stairs with the baby and hands her to me where she latches on instantly. I think, "Yep, she's just a booby baby." And we go into the delivery room to gather our things so we can go. The room is PACKED with our things from home. Pillows and blankets, but mostly Maddie's toys. Even her tricycle. I woke up while we were packing things into the stroller.

The second:
I'm walking into the hospital crying because I'm going to a scheduled c/s and I don't know why it needed to be scheduled. In the hall Chris and I run into Tonya, who is working on a computer. I'm wondering what the heck she is doing there, but I'm so glad to have someone from ICAN to talk to that I don't really care. I sit down to wait for her to finish on the computer. A doctor walks up, a tall blonde woman, and introduces herself as Michelle Tiffany (The one OB visit I went to with this pg was with a man named Micheal Tiffany.) and says she's going to be my surgeon. I say something under my breath along the lines of "Who gives a s***?" Then tell her "nope, not doing this. I'm going home." She looks at me and says "I don't blame you. After all the nursery is closed." I have no idea what she means, but anything that gets me out of there without a fight. So we go walking down the hall to the door and pass the nursery that has a sign hanging in it that reads "Closed due to feng shui problems." (did I mention I have strange dreams?) On the way out, I start having lots of contractions, so we hurry home. I woke up having to use the bathroom really bad, so I was probably really having those contractions.

These dreams really illustrated to me the fears I was having under the surface. I was afraid of a long labor, afraid I'd get tired and give up. I was very afraid of having another cesarean. I didn't think I could ever recover from that. I did the best I could by planning for a long labor. We had a birth tub, a birth ball, a bag full of snacks and Gatorade and Emergen-c. We had a whole little nest set up in the basement. One of the TVs was down there, and a blow-up mattress, and the rocking chair. Other than these things, I didn't know what else I could do to tip the scales in my favor. I really couldn't know anything else until I was in labor. This left me feeling like an over-wound spring for the last several weeks of my pregnancy. This feeling, combined with the fact that I could barely move my huge belly around and some minor prodromal labor left me very anxious to get this labor underway.

I tried to keep my mind on other things. I sewed the last of the diapers, and hung up all our baby clothes. Even the dresses, despite the fact that I didn't know if the baby was a boy or a girl. I worked on two different baby blankets. Chris took my pregnancy pictures. I also spent as much one-on-one time as I could with Maddie, knowing I wouldn't have as much time soon.

As soon as I hit 38 weeks I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to be done with being pregnant so badly. Very early Wednesday morning I woke up to a pop. I managed to get to the bathroom before I released a good bit of amniotic fluid. Then I hobbled up the stairs, with fluid running down my leg, to the birth bag to grab one of the adult diapers we had bought for just such an occasion. I debated telling Chris what had happened. I was afraid he would get excited and not be able to sleep. I knew I needed to sleep as much as possible. He woke up when I laid down though, so I told him. He didn't seem to have any trouble going back to sleep.

I was really surprised when I woke up that morning. I had slept almost all night. I was having some contractions, but nothing serious. I was in very early labor. Chris called in to work and started his paternity leave. He had two weeks.

Nothing really happened on Wednesday. I saw the chiropractor in hopes it would get things moving. But nothing. I went to bed that night, expecting to be up in the middle of the night sometime, but woke up Thursday morning to the same few contractions I had gone to bed with. Maddie had a gymnastics class Thursday night, and we took her to that. Other than my waters continuing to leak, not much was going on with labor. Sometimes I would have several hard contractions back to back, but most of the time they were very light and irregular. I was really working with my optimal fetal positioning (OFP) postures, but the baby seemed perfectly positioned. Perhaps she was asynclitic and I couldn't tell, I don't know.

Thursday night (and each night after) I woke up and was awake with contractions for several hours. They weren't bad, I didn't need to breathe through them, but I couldn't sleep. So I sat in my chair, leaning forward for OFP, and watched TV, surfed the internet, or just sat in the dark, talking to my baby. Eventually they would slow down, and I could go to sleep.

By Friday, I was getting pretty worried that we would use up all of Chris's paternity leave before the baby came! I was getting very anxious and feeling the stress. I wasn't worried about us physically, I was monitoring my temperature for signs of infection, staying hydrated, and baby was moving frequently. On Saturday, we went and walked the mall for several hours. I had quite a few contractions that I had to stop and breathe through. I could also feel the baby finally move into my pelvis. When we went home, I was tired from so much walking, but it was a good tired.

I woke up at about 4:00 in the morning with contractions that were regular and required my attention. I sat by myself for a few hours waiting to see if they would go away. I wasn't timing them, but I would guess they were about seven minutes apart. When Chris and Maddie got up, I did regular morning things in between contractions.

By early afternoon, the contractions were about five minutes apart and I wanted to go down to my "nest" in the basement. I took a few of my favorite movies with me, the ones I know by heart and don't mind missing chunks of, because I couldn't concentrate on anything during the contractions, but I was fine between them. I spent all afternoon and evening watching movies and rocking in my rocking chair. I would get up and stand, leaning slightly forward (OFP!) and sway my hips during the contractions. Chris brought me dinner. I wasn't hungry, but I made myself eat because I knew I still had a long way to go. I was making myself drink water, too, because I wasn't thirsty.

Once Chris had Maddie in bed, he came downstairs with me. I kind of expected things to pick up right away, but they seemed to stay exactly the same. About five minutes apart (we never did time them, but it seemed about five minutes.) and I had to work through them, but they weren't awful. I decided to get in my birth tub, mainly because I thought things might slow down and I could get some rest. As soon as I got in the tub though, things really got into gear. The contractions started coming every two or so minutes and the were really hard to get through. It took everything I had to concentrate on relaxing and moving so I didn't feel like I was going to rip apart. They weren't painful, but I felt like they were washing over my head and trying to drown me. I had to spend all the time in between contractions preparing myself for the next one. I made Chris turn off the TV because it was irritating me, distracting my focus. Poor Chris was rushing back and forth making me drinks and snacks in between contractions and holding me and talking to me during them. We did this for hours.

It was getting on towards Monday morning when I had a slight urge to push. It was very small, not at all overwhelming like I expected, but I was so anxious I pushed anyway. I pushed for maybe three contractions when everything stopped. My contractions went down to about every twenty minutes. And they started to really hurt. I had been in labor for over 24 hours now and everything was just stopping? I was so frustrated I couldn't stand it. I got out of the tub and walked around, just paced the basement, trying to get something, anything, started again. The few contractions I was having hurt so badly. I had promised myself that I wouldn't let a fear of taking pain medications at home cause me to transfer to the hospital. I had Chris go get me the Percocet I had left over from my cesarean. I took one and tried to sleep. I would just get to dozing when a contraction would hit, and I would be totally unprepared for it. This made it so much worse, and the medication didn't seem to be helping the pain at all.

As soon as it was 6:00 am, I called my friend Shannon. Somehow we got disconnected, and I waited for awhile for her to call me back before I realised we hadn't turned the phone ringer back on. I called her again. I don't remember a single word of what she said to me, but I will never forget the sound of her voice. By the time the phone call ended, I was contracting regularly again. They still hurt, and I was dealing with them on my own now because Maddie was awake. Chris was doing his absolute best to be there for both of us, but he couldn't be everywhere. Without him reminding me to eat and drink, I stopped doing it.

By noon, I was still contracting about every five minutes, but I wasn't making any progress, or I felt like I wasn't. I decided it was time to go to the hospital. I knew I as going for a repeat cesarean, but at the time, I was very at peace with that. Something was obviously going on that was preventing this baby from being born. I was ready to go. Chris tried and tried to talk me out of it. Reluctantly, he started getting Maddie ready to go.

She threw the biggest fit I have ever seen a child throw. Every time he would get her shirt over her head, she would rip it off. She was kicking and screaming and hollering. Meanwhile, I was pitifully attempting to get myself into some sweatpants, but I couldn't manage to get my feet into the legholes with my big old belly. It was funny then, but it is hilarious to me now.

It took until 3:00 to get everyone ready to go. Three hours! I realised at the last second that I needed to call my friend Meredith to pick up Maddie. I called her at work, feeling so guilty, and asked her to meet us at the hospital. Then we headed out. The hospital was maybe 10 or so minutes away, but we hit every single red light. Chris was talking about how he was never doing this again, he was getting a vasectomy. All I could think about was if it was too late to get into the CBAC session at the upcoming ICAN conference.

We finally got to the hospital, but we didn't know where to go. We stood and waited, me contracting all the while, in a long line at the information desk. Finally we got pointed in the right direction. I was warned that it was a pretty long walk and was offered a wheelchair. I wanted to get into that wheelchair so badly. But I couldn't. I don't know if it was my ICAN "brainwashing," sheer stubbornness, or divine intervention, but I could not accept that wheelchair.

I started the long walk down the hall. And it was a long walk, even when I walked it again a few days later, not in labor. I had to stop what felt like every three feet and tense my whole body into the contraction. It was the only way I could get through it without screaming, and I couldn't scare Maddie like that. Eventually we got to the elevator that took us to the "birthing center." It was really only a labor and delivery floor in a hospital, but I guessed it just sounded better. I walked up to the nurses's station and waited for someone to notice me. There was another woman, who appeared in early labor, walking the hall. She looked frightened when she saw me.

It took me three contractions to even tell the woman at the desk my name. She asked if my water had broken and when. When I said, "Wednesday morning," I thought she would have a heart attack. She told another nurse to just show me to a room. They didn't need to bother with triage as it was obvious I was in advanced labor. I was actually in or nearing transition, but I didn't know that then.

We were shown to my room and left alone for a few minute while the nurses got together whatever they needed to get. My friend Meredith showed up for Maddie. I could see in her eyes that I looked like hell. I thanked her for picking up Maddie and getting there so quickly. She knew that things must be bad for me to be at the hospital, so she leaned over and said, "Remember, all that matters is a healthy baby." I hate that phrase, but I knew she meant it in all love and kindness. She left then, with my little girl.

The nurse came in and asked me to give a urine sample, which I couldn't do and gave me a gown to get into. I was actually grateful for this because my pants were getting very wet. I hadn't been able to get anything on underneath them. She said something about needing to do a speculum exam because my waters were broken. I was to far gone to even care, though normally I wouldn't allow something like that. Once I got into the bed, though, it was obvious I didn't need it because all she had needed was to make sure it was amniotic fluid with one of those little tester papers, and I was leaving convenient little puddles everywhere. All she had to do was touch me with the paper and it turned color.

The nurse taking my history asked about my previous birth. I mentioned that it was a cesarean and she looked at me and said, "Oooohh... uhh... we don't do VBACs here." I think I snapped at her something along the lines of, "I'm a home birth transport. I wouldn't be here if I didn't need another cesarean!"

Once I was in bed and the monitors on, I was informed that the doctor on call, the one doctor I had seen prenatally, was going off call and was not going to help me. The doctor coming on call was in Racine, 10 miles away, seeing patients. I didn't care.

I was checked, and found to be at 7 cm. Not that it mattered to me, I was having a cesarean now, and that was that. A nurse came in to put in the catheter. I asked if it couldn't be done after I was given the anesthesia, and she said it was going to be a rush to get the surgery done before the baby came out on its own as it was, so she had to place it now. The statement struck me as odd at the time, but I was so convinced that my baby was simply not going to come out without surgery that I thought she was simply very mistaken. Now, looking back, I cannot believe the absurdity of that statement. We have to rush to do surgery, otherwise the baby might just come out!! It says a great deal about our medical system.

Having that catheter placed without the anesthesia was awful! Beyond the pain of getting it in, which was excruciating, I could feel it all the time, and it made me feel like I had to pee. It was awful.

I also got an IV of fluids, which I desperately needed, and antibiotics, which I probably didn't, but which seemed prudent to do before surgery. I was tied to machines just about everywhere I could be.

Suddenly, the door opened and the anesthesiologist came in. He informed me that they were planning to do a spinal for the surgery, but the doctor was delayed and it was clear I was in pain, so they were going to give me an epidural now. I have never been so happy to see a man with a surgical mask! He ran down with me the risks of the anesthesia real quick, and then started to tell me why a repeat cesarean was more risky than a VBAC. My brain was so conditioned to expect the opposite that I just said, "Yeah, yeah, I know you think I was dumb..."

He got a little firmer with me then, to get my attention. "No. You aren't listening to me. We are going to get this baby out before the doctor can get here. You do not want to deal with all the risks of surgery. You do not want to deal with recovering from that with a new baby. I'm going to give you just enough medicine to take the edge off, okay?"

I could not believe it. This man, this doctor, had just reminded me of who I was and what I wanted. I got the epidural, and sure enough, the next contraction had no pain. But I could still move, and feel (especially that damned catheter), and I had to breathe and work through the contractions. They were still really difficult and took a lot of effort, but the pain that made me want to scream was gone. I was so grateful to his man. And I don't even remember his name.

He left and the nurse checked me again. I was at 9 cm! I couldn't believe it! She told me to let her know when I felt pushy. I didn't yet. There were two nurses in with me and one of them was talking about how she had used to work at a hospital that had VBACs all the time. The other said something about how she wished she saw more of them. I couldn't believe my luck, being surrounded by supportive people. They also placed an internal monitor on the baby. I only agreed because it seemed like the only way I would have the vaginal birth I desperately wanted now. Even then I could see the irony of that monitor. The one piece of equipment I had had my cesarean to prevent my first baby from having, I was now willingly using on my second. I felt like I was allowing her to be hurt to save myself. But at the same time, I knew a cesarean would be worse on her than the monitor, or that's how I justified it.

The doctor on call walked in about twenty minutes later. I had the courage and the strength I needed back now and I told her I would not be having surgery anymore. She tried her best to talk me out of it, talking about how there was a serious risk and how I may have read studies, but didn't know everything. I was telling her numbers, like a 0.5% chance of rupture, and all she kept saying back to me was that I couldn't know everything. I was actually enjoying sparring with her between contractions. Chris said he thought she was being very obnoxious and coming on very strong, but I thought she was doing a very poor job of "convincing" me. I was actually a little disappointed when she finally said, "Well, you are the boss, and I have to do what you say, so if you sign these forms (the Against Medical Advice, AMA, papers) I can't say anything about it." because it ended my fun. I signed the papers at 5:03 pm.

I asked the nurse about delayed cord cutting. She looked at me in horror. "The baby could bleed to death if you don't cut the cord right away!" I wanted to push the issue, but how do you undo that much misinformation so quickly?

I started to feel a little pushy soon after she left and I called the nurse. She said I was 9 and a half. Really, I just had a small lip. It probably would have gone away if I had gotten on my knees, but I was so tired and didn't even think of it. I was able to not push with the contractions and so it wasn't a problem. I wasn't really keen on the idea of pushing on an incomplete cervix, even if it was almost there. The urge to push got steadily more intense and I called her back again and again. Eventually I had no control over the pushing my body was doing. The nurse rushed in and told me the monitors showed I was pushing. Duh. She checked again and it felt like she wiggled that last little bit of cervix around the head. She pronounced me complete and started setting up the stirrups. I asked if I had to push like that, and she (genuinely, not rude or facetiously) asked how I would prefer to push. Ten seconds earlier I had wanted to be up on my knees, but at that moment, my brain failed me. I said I didn't know.

I got all set up and pushed with the next contraction. Immediately, the baby's heartrate did all kinds of crazy things. I was taken out of the stirrups and laid on my right side. Her heart rate immediately improved. I was warned not to push, but I couldn't help it. I really did try, and it seemed her heart was fine with what my body was doing when I couldn't fight the urge hard enough. I couldn't feel it, but she was moving lower and lower. I didn't need to be checked to tell. It was obvious when it was finally time for me to really push.

Chris says that from this point on, her heart was always fine, but that was not my truth at the time. I will tell the story as I lived it. My contractions were one on top of the other. I wasn't getting any break between them. The doctor came in and told me that if this continued, and her heartrate didn't improve, they were going to need to "take me back," which I understood to mean "to surgery." There was talk of giving me Trebutaline, to slow the contractions, but slowly, I was getting just enough space between them for the baby's heartrate to recover. Eventually, though, it became time to just get her out. The stirrups came out again, but my legs were held so far back that I didn't even touch them. They were really nice to have to rest in for the few seconds between contractions though. Chris was standing on one side holding one leg, and my nurse on the other. I pushed like my life depended on it, because I felt like the baby's might. The dotor was trying to direct my pushing, but I couldn't make sense of it. Push one I directed towards my vagina, and it was like pushing on a wall. Push two was directed towards my rectum, same thing. Push three, I tried pushing towards my sacrum. I could feel it working now! Suddenly I could feel the ring of fire starting to burn. I still had the presence of mind to think, "Wow! That hurts! But I am so glad I can feel it. I am so glad the epidural didn't numb it away."

During the moments between pushes, I would look up at Chris's face. He was watching our baby be born, and I was seeing the birth on his face. After each push, the look of awe grew. I'm so glad I didn't have a mirror, or I might have been looking at that and missed those looks.

At some point I yelled out between pushes, "Nobody announce the sex of the baby! I want to see for myself." The doctor repeated my request to the other people in the room. I was aware of Chris and the nurse, and only vaguely aware of the doctor and a pediatrician and his nurse. I got back to pushing.

I pushed right into that ring of fire. It hurt, but I found it oddly pleasurable to push to the limits of that pain, to feel myself stretch that far. I felt like I was going to rip in every direction. Suddenly, I pushed past my limits. There was a blinding pain and I let out a horrible, loud whimper. The sound of it still echoes in my ears. All of my pushing power deflated.

I gathered my breath to push again when I heard the nurse holding my leg say, "Stop pushing, we have to suction." I was confused for a moment, and then it slowly dawned on me. "The head is out?" I asked quietly, then louder, "The head is out?" The nurse assured me that yes, the head was out. It was in that moment I realised that I was still waiting for the general anesthesia mask to come into view. I had still been sure that I would be rushed off to surgery. It was also the moment I realised that was actually going to do this. I was going to birth my baby!

I didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because I had to push, NOW! I felt her shoulder slide under my pubic bone, and then blinding pain as hands pushed it back. It felt like there were five hands inside me (it was actually three), yanking on that shoulder. It would have come fine on its own, but now it was a bit sticky. I tore badly. I felt the baby kick me as the body and legs slid out.

I opened my eyes just in time to see the doctor hand the baby to the pediatrician. "We have a girl! Chris, we have another little girl!" I was thrilled. A HUGE roar of cheers went up. I was unaware of it, but Chris said there were at least thirty people in the room. It took me by surprise and I jumped. But I had other things on my mind. They had taken the baby (she still didn't have a name) to the warmer. She didn't breathe right away. I wasn't really worried, I knew she'd be fine. She was. Someone called out the time. My little girl was born at 8:55pm on Monday, February 26, 2007.

Suddenly I couldn't stop laughing. I wanted to cry in happiness, but I just laughed and laughed. i kept saying, "I did it! I did it!" over and over.

The doctor asked me to push one more time and the placenta plopped out. Then my baby was being placed in my arms. Typing it, it seems like it took a long time, but really, it was maybe three minutes. Everything was happening so fast. I hollered at Chris to grab the camera.

He took several pictures, and I got a nurse to take a picture of him holding the baby. The doctor started stitching and I felt every stitch. Chris left to go get Maddie. I felt odd that he was leaving so quickly, and he felt like I was pushing him to go get her. So, a bit of a miscommunication there.

Emily weighed 8 pounds, three ounces. Madelynn had weighed six pounds, fourteen ounces. So much for my small, deformed pelvis!

Slowly the ruckus quieted. The doctor finished stitching and left. I noticed the placenta in a bucket and asked the two nurses left in the room to show it to me. They not only showed me, they took a couple pictures for me. I didn't touch it, and I wish now I had, but I didn't think of it at the time. I realised I was ravenous. I asked one of the nurses if I could get something to eat.

I also had to pee very badly. I wasn't supposed to be able to get up so quickly, but the nurses helped me. They also disconnected me from everything except the IV. I was getting some pitocin to help my uterus clamp down as I was still bleeding a good bit. Not horrible, but enough that I felt the pitocin was prudent.

Chris came back with Maddie, who was very tired. We called all of the relatives to announce her arrival! We visited for awhile and then we decided it would be good for Maddie to sleep in her own bed that night, even though everyone was welcome to stay. The hospital's policy on other children is "Whatever you want." Maddie stayed the second night with us.

I was alone with the baby. That was probably a very bad idea. I was so tired. All I wanted was to sleep. She nursed for forty-five minutes the first time. After that, any time I moved, she would cry. She did not like having her center of gravity disturbed. It was so bad that if she fell asleep when I was mid-step, if I put the other foot down, she would wake up and cry. I walked her as much as I could, but I had to try to rest. I sat down on the bed and was bouncing her in my arms. I fell into a microsleep and woke up just in time to see her roll down my body and towards the edge of the bed. She stopped millimeters from the edge. I was terrified and I wanted to send her to the nursery, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. I put the bed in a recline and put up all the rails. Finally I was able to get a bit of sleep. It was only an hour that night, but it was something.

The next morning I was able to really appreciate where I was. My room was huge, and private. The nurses left us almost completely alone. In the bathroom there was a huge, jetted tub for water labors (I don't know if they actually have people birth in them, but for sure they labor there). It had room for three grown people in it! The shower was big enough for at least two. It was so nice to have a shower that morning once Chris brought me some clothes and shampoo. Really, the rest of our stay was like being in a fancy hotel. Even the food was good. I could order anything I wanted off of the "room service" menu. Even the fresh green beans really were fresh!

We named the baby that afternoon. We had been considering Chloe, Ainsley, and Emily. She just looked like an Emily. We chose her middle name, Michelle, because it is Chris's sister's middle name.

Every time I looked at Emily's head though, I felt sad. I would see that scab and cry. I felt like I had betrayed her for allowing that monitor. It is one thing I would love to be able to change. She will probably carry that scar forever. Was it fair for me to avoid my scar by inflicting one on her?

We went home after 36 hours in the hospital. As nice as it was, I couldn't wait to be home.

Opening my heart

2007-10-06T12:13:00.000-05:00

When Maddie was about two, we decided to go ahead and try to have another baby. Looking back, neither of us really believed it would happen, because I was not going to go through the mess of fertility treatments again. Mostly we had come to terms with only having one child. But I started charting again, and while we didn't force ourselves to have sex during my fertile times, we weren't opposed to it. We were ready to open ourselves to another baby if and when one decided to come into our lives.

I had wanted to be prepared for the possibility of another baby, so I had continued to read about good births and ways to avoid the pitfalls of last time.

But when my charts made it clear that we were pregnant on my third cycle, we really were in shock. We were not expecting it to happen so fast! It hit me particularly hard. Suddenly I was in a position where I was going to have this baby, one way or another. At first it was the idea of the birth that got me. I spent about a week thinking that maybe just having a repeat cesarean was a good idea. I could schedule, I wouldn't have to labor. And most of all, I wouldn't have to fight. A VBAC these days is a fight. You have to fight to find a care provider, you have to fight hospital policies and time frames. I could have a home birth with a midwife, but even that carried some degree of fight.

I couldn't just resign myself to another surgery without a good reason, though. While my heart was still with unassisted birth, I started searching for a midwife. A new law legalizing midwifery in Wisconsin had just been passed, but the details of who a midwife could and could not care for at home was still being hammered out. No one was willing to risk even the slightest possibility that something might go wrong during my birth and prevent midwives all over from taking on VBAC clients. So midwives were out. My insurance assigned me an obstetrician, but I could not willingly go back to a surgeon to have a normal birth.

That left us with an unassisted birth as really my only option. It was one I felt very comfortable with, though. I loved being my own caregiver. I was sick, and for some reason very uncomfortable throughout my pregnancy despite chiropractic care and regular massages from Chris. I also often felt like this baby was an interloper in our family. We had a happy family. We all seemed to fit together nicely. Who was this baby to inject itself here and possibly mess that up for us. I know these thoughts weren't very nice, and the guilt I carried about having them mad it even worse.

Around 15 weeks, I was measuring very large and decided it would be prudent to get an ultrasound. i went to the one and only prenatal appointment I had throughout the whole pregnancy to get it ordered. We went for the ultrasound and I cried the whole way through. I couldn't believe how much it hurt my scar to have the ultrasound waves going through it. I also felt terribly guilty for exposing my baby to the waves as it was clearly not a good experience. But I also really didn't want to see the baby. I made Chris put the pictures away so I didn't have to look at them. I wasn't sure yet that I even wanted this baby, I definitely didn't want to see its picture. It made everything way too real.

Of course, I did eventually get to the point where I put those pictures up on the fridge, where I was somewhat excited to meet this new baby growing inside me. It just took me a very long time to get there.

I wrote this post to my myspace blog when I was in my late second trimester. It shows a good deal about my mental state regarding the upcoming birth:

Hmmm... my very first ever blog. I'm a tad late jumping on the bandwagon here. I'm terrible at journaling, so I don't expect this will get updated very often. And many apologies to my guy friends. This blog will probably be pretty graphic and personal. I'm gearing up to give birth, about the most intimate and feminine act there is, and my blogs will probably reflect this for awhile. So there it is, my disclaimer. As I mentioned, I am gearing up to give birth. As I write this I am 27 weeks and 3 days along. 3 days from entering my third trimester. This is both an exciting and petrifying time for me. (For the few people who know the whole ugly story of Madelynn's "birth," you understand my fear. For those who don't, it is time for me to get my story out there, look for an upcoming blog with it. I just didn't have it in me to type it all up today. ) So I am preparing for this birth already. Well, in truth, I have been preparing for it since before we even conceived. We always wanted more than one child, but getting Madelynn was an amazing struggle. I have a condition known as polycystic ovarian syndrome, or PCOS, which can make getting pregnant very difficult. For us, it took 2.5 years of medications and procedures. Some of the medications were so potent, it made me suicidal. Combine that with Chris being deployed and me being alone, well, not good. I had the presence of mind, at least, to know that I couldn't do it anymore and decided to finish the cycle I was on and then no more. We could adopt eventually, when I was finished grieving for the child I would never have. But that was the cycle it worked for us. I bleed for pretty much the whole first trimester. It turned out I had conceived with two eggs and one didn't develop properly. I was miscarrying that one, but it was a very frightening thing, wondering if the baby we had waited so long for would be lost so soon. It was made even harder by Chris' deployment. We each had to deal with all of this completely alone. (For those of you curious about these things, we had frozen some of Chris' "swimmers" before he left and had it transferred at the right times.) I never thought I would be so happy to have morning sickness, but it meant my baby was staying put! I'll go more into my pregnancy with Maddie when I tell her story, because it is all interconnected and really hard to figure out where one part ends and the rest begins. So, we had pretty much given up on the idea of having another baby. After what the drugs did to me the first time, I knew there was no way I could do that again. So to have another, we would have to conceive on our own. It was theoretically possible, since I do ovulate on my own occasionally. I chart my cycles, more so I know what's going on than for either "trying" or "avoiding." But it meant that when we did conceive, I knew within 10 or so days. We couldn't believe it! Then the morning sickness set in again and we could easily believe it. Maddie came via cesarean section, so this pregnancy, while otherwise an amazing blessing, held a lot of potential trouble for me. I'm very involved with a group designed to prevent unnecessary cesareans, but I must admit, at the very beginning of this pregnancy just signing up for a repeat c/s was very appealing. I snapped out of it pretty quickly, but for awhile that seemed way preferable to the fighting and work and effort I would have to put into a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). But the plain and simple truth is that I didn't want another surgical delivery. I want to give birth. I want to be the first person to touch my baby. I want to catch him or her as s/he emerges into my hands. I WANT to feel the contractions and sweat while I push out my baby. I want to breathe through the pain and curse and cry. Women who have had a c-section know what an unbelievable blessing it is to do that. I want it. What I don't want is to be in an operating room, numbed from the armpits down, a passive vessel for bringing my child into the world. I want to be an active participant. I want to nurse and cuddle my baby moments after it is born, still covered in birth fluids. So this time, we chose home birth.
This is what we had wanted for Maddie too, but just couldn't make it happen. We didn't know enough, didn't want it enough. We didn't even know what we didn't know. I wasn't going to make that mistake again, so even though we didn't know if it would ever happen, I set about learning everything I could. Some of it I couldn't help, being involved with ICAN (http://www.ican-online.org/ if you want to know more) gets you educated in birth even if you don't want it. A few months there and I learned more about birth and the politics behind it than I would have ever thought possible. But even the most knowledgeable women can't teach you everything. You have to learn about yourself by yourself. Self discovery and healing can not be given to you. And it is not an easy path to take. Some days, I look back down that path and can't believe how far I've come. Other days, I can still see my starting point and I don't know that I've actually done anything. Who ever said healing is a spiral was so right. Some days it seems like you are right back where you started, but eventually you find you are on the same place but another level of that spiral. This probably doesn't make any sense, but anyone who has ever grieved over anything will understand. Its universal.
Besides a LOT of soul-searching, what I did was toss the wrong pregnancy books (namely, What to Expect) and picked up the right ones. There are a lot of good ones out there, but for me, Birthing From Within is one of the best. It helped me to both heal from my first pregnancy and prepare for this one. Sit Up and Take Notice (along with http://www.spinningbabies.com/) helped me learn about the positioning issues to avoid to have a better birth. Turns out there is a lot more to good birth positioning than just being head down. I'm also really enjoying Hypnobabies. There are classes, but we are using just the book, and it is going very well. I finally know what it means to relax on cue, a huge step for me. The Pink Kit is great for learning my particular pelvis and the best birthing positions for me. I'm seeing a chiropractor regularly to keep all my bones in line. When I get a little further along, I'll be practicing Optimal Fetal Positioning to try to avoid the posterior position that caused so many problems last time. I'm drinking Red Raspberry Leaf Tea every day.
The most important thing though, is being careful what I let into my head right now. I will not watch shows like "Birthday" and "a baby story" that so often show terrible births. I won't listen to bad birth stories. I go out of my way to hear good ones. Wonderful stories, some with "complications" but where no one freaks out and calls it an emergency. Birth is as safe as life gets. Sometimes that isn't safe at all, but the vast majority of time, it is. Birth works, when left alone. My favorite movie right now is "A Clear Road To Birth." It has videos of lots of unassisted births. No doctor or midwife to interfere and the births are so calm and wonderful. There are older children coming in and out at will, no bright lights or suctioning, no episiotomies or "we have to weigh the baby now, dear." None of it. Just pure, raw birth. As it should be. I call it my brainwashing tape. I need to brainwash out the cultural messages that birth is scary and dangerous and brainwash in that it can be lovely and calm and peaceful. To me, this is the single most important thing I've done to prepare for this birth. I have surrounded myself with people who believe in me and my ability to birth my baby. People who can remember I am strong, even when I forget. People who will have sympathy for my pain, but cheer me on anyway. Reminding me that I can do this. People who listen to my fears and help me work through them so they won't all come up while I'm laboring and vulnerable. People who aren't afraid to look at the raw emotion and deal with it. People who have walked this road before me and some who are wanting me to light the way for them. The decision to VBAC can be very hard, there are so many obstacles, but with the support and love of my supporters, I know I can do it.

The Aftermath

2007-10-05T16:22:00.000-05:00

I think this is the hardest chapter so far. I don't even know how I can begin to explain all the ways my cesarean (and the events preceding it) affected me. I'm still discovering some of them.

I had an incredibly easy recovery physically. I had very little pain, none in my incision at all. I got up and walked the next morning, I never felt I hobbled. I could carry and care for my new baby with very little trouble. I did have to use pillows for support during nursing for the first few weeks, but that was more out of a fear of pain than any actual pain. I think I only took three doses of painkillers total, and two of those were at a nurses insistence that I would feel pain soon and it would be unbearable. This was already 48 hours after the surgery. The third was my first day at home because we had family coming and I was afraid I would be exhausted and start to hurt. I didn't get infected, my incision didn't reopen. I took my baby for a mile long, hilly walk in her stroller before she was a week old. No, it wasn't the physical recovery that was so hard for me, but the emotional one.

For the first several months, I was able to keep my feelings about everything under the surface. I was too involved in becoming a new mom, learning to breastfeed, dealing with colic, seemingly unending streams of visitors, and of course, physical healing, to do anything else. But I had nightmares. I would frequently wake up at night crying from a dream about people chasing me with knives. Most of the time, I had a lot of trouble sleeping. I would lay there in the dark and suddenly, I would be there, back in the operating room, smelling my flesh burn. I couldn't stand to be touched. I would cringe every time Chris even brushed up against me.

I tried to see a therapist. I went to a woman who claimed to be a specialist in post-partum depression. I told her about my cesarean and everything that went with it. She told me that she didn't believe any birth could be traumatic if the baby didn't die, and so my problems must be stemming from my marriage. I went a few more times, but ultimately knew I would not get help there. I didn't have it in me to try someone else.

By the time Maddie was four months old, my life felt like it was falling apart around me. I could barely function. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't take care of the house, I could barely take care of the baby. Chris and I were fighting like crazy.I knew I needed to help myself, but I didn't know how.

A few weeks later, Chris and I were on the verge of divorce. I was so angry with him. I knew in my head that he couldn't have helped any of it, but in my heart, I felt betrayed and abandoned. Why hadn't he helped me? Why didn't he stand up for me? He just sat back half asleep in his chair while I was brutalized. How could I ever trust him again? How could I forgive him? One night, things were so bad, we decided that it was just time. Divorce was our only option. We stopped fighting and began to discuss how we would work out custody. Eventually he went down to the garage and I headed to sleep on the couch in the living room. I couldn't sleep. I was thinking too much. Finally I realised that I had to tell him everything I had been thinking, all of my hurts and anger. At that point, what did I have to lose?

I headed down to the garage and told him that I needed to talk and he needed to listen. No matter what, he could not interrupt me. And God bless him, he didn't. I let everything spill out. All the hurt and pain, all of the poison that had been building for months. I talked and cried and yelled and cried some more for more than two hours. But it was out. It was over. I slept on the couch that night, but from that horrible, rock bottom place, things began to get better. It was a long, slow process, but each day was a little better than the one before.

I still needed help for me, though, and I didn't know where to get it. I knew I was the only one who could help me, so I started searching. I read some interesting things about art therapy, and so I tried some of that. Getting my feelings down on paper helped so much. I still have many of those drawings and paintings. They still hold so much power for me. I also told my story to anyone and everyone who would listen. At first I'm sure I came off sounding like a raving lunatic. That's what I was at the time, really. I also asked my La Leche League leader if she knew of anyone who had also had a traumatic birth experience. I knew I couldn't possibly be the only one. She is the one who pointed me to ICAN. ICAN, the International Cesarean Awareness Network, is a group dedicated to lowering the cesarean rate and helping women who are recovering from them. ( http://www.ican-online.org/)

I found the ICAN of San Diego web page, and there was a meeting in a couple of weeks. It was an hour away, but I needed to go. I was desperate. I kept looking online for help while I was waiting for the meeting. I came across an essay entitled You should be Grateful by Gretchen Humphries. (Check it out here: http://www.birthtruth.org/grateful.htm Her other writings are fabulous as well.) This essay was my first bit of proof I had that there were others who felt the same way I did about their cesareans. I read that essay over and over. I also sent it to my family members. I especially wanted my mom to read it, because the first thing she said to me after my surgery was, "Aren't you glad you went to the hospital now?" Umm... no Mom, I not. Not at all.

The day of the ICAN meeting finally came. I packed up the baby and made the drive. I was really nervous when I knocked on that door. But Tonya, the leader (and president of the whole organization, but I didn't know that then) opened the door and welcomed me inside. I was the first one there, but others followed soon. That meeting was a turning point in my life. I was surrounded by women who understood me, and I was able to tell my story fully. No one thought I was crazy. I cried a lot that day, and I will never forget those women. It was the first time I heard that a home birth after a cesarean (HBAC) was even possible. Just that brought so much joy to my heart. I had panic attacks even driving by the hospital. I couldn't imagine going in there to have another baby. After the meeting Tonya told me about the ICAN online Email list ( http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/ICAN-online/ ) and lent me a copy of Silent Knife by Nancy Wainer-Cohen and Lois J. Estner. Usually the group's library was limited to members, but Tonya could see how much I needed to read it.

I had heard that this book was widely regarded as "angry." I thought these women were so tame! But this book was so big in my healing process in ways I can't even describe. I think I read the book three times before I returned it two months later. I also paid for my first subscription to ICAN that month. I knew this was a group of women I needed to be involved in. I also joined what is affectionately known as "The List." It is very high volume, two days of not reading and my Email box was full! The love and support there, though, is truly amazing. A group of women, most of whom have never met in person, spilling their hurt and pain, supporting each other, and healing. I've been a member for three years now, and I don't know how I would live without these wonderful women. I've gotten to know them well. But even then, new and hurt, I was welcomed in with loving arms.

Slowly, with the new support I found, and with lots of soul searching, I began to heal. I became a functional mother and wife again. I could finally sleep. The house was coming under control. Chris and I were really starting to get along.

Maddie was 11 months old when Chris left on his third deployment. To keep myself busy, I went back to school full time. We would also be moving soon after Chris got back, and so I was taking care of all of those things. I was doing very well, and healing got put on the back burner.

I met a woman at a La Leche League meeting who was planning an unassisted birth after cesarean (UBAC). I told her that she could call me if she ever needed some support during her labor. I didn't want her to have to go through what I did simply for not having anyone to come. Not long after Maddie's first birthday, the call came. Jessie was having lots of contractions and her husband was underway and couldn't get home. She had been having lots of prodromal labor and we thought she would probably go pretty fast. She labored through the night and into the next morning. We had to call another friend to be with her for a few hours while I went to take a Psychology test (I aced it despite getting no sleep the previous night.) and then grabbed a couple of hours of sleep. I picked Maddie back up from the sitter and we headed back to Jessie's house. She was in the tub trying to relax through contractions that were obviously more intense than when I had left. Our friend had to get home to care for her own children, so it was just the three of us again. It was not easy to take care of Maddie (who cut four teeth that night!) and my laboring friend at the same time. Eventually I had to tell Jessie that I would need to go at 9:00 that evening. I simply could not be up again all night. She called another friend to come be with her once I left. Things picked up while we waited for him to come, and soon she was pushing with the contractions even though she clearly didn't want to. She was flat on her back in the bath tub. I was providing some perineal counterpressure and I felt her water break with one of the contractions. There was some meconium in it and soon the bath water was a dingy grey-green color. After an hour of pushing, she was clearly upset because the baby wasn't crowning yet. She asked me to check how far back the baby's head was. She was about one knuckle deep and seemed to be stuck. We helped Jessie onto her knees in the tub, which brought the baby to the perineum almost instantly. The tub was very uncomfortable this way, so with help, she got out and sat on the toilet. She would stand and hang from her friend's neck while I held her perineum during contractions. A couple of pushes later, Jessie eased the baby's head out. I watched the baby rotate into a better position to birth the shoulders. It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Jessie wanted me to check for a cord around her neck. There was none, but while I was checking, another contraction came and the baby was born right into my hands! I was so surprised and she came with such a whoosh of fluid, I thought I would drop her. Jessie immediately sat down and I handed her baby to her. Then I looked at the door and there was my baby, just watching in amazement. It was a beautiful moment. We got Jessie cleaned up and settled as best we could, and I borrowed some clothes to drive home in. Mine were soaked through with blood and amniotic fluid. Her friend stayed with her through the night and until her husband got home the next day. I lived on that high for the next few weeks. I had never done something so amazing in my life! It made me sad, to really know what I had missed, but it also brought me hope, because if she could do it, so could I.

Midway through his deployment, the ICAN conference was held, near where I lived. I wanted to go, but I had a choice between the conference or a Birth Renewal workshop that was held the same weekend. Some people went to both, but I just couldn't afford it. Birth Renewal was the right choice for me. I spent a whole day just focusing on healing me, as Maddie was with my dad. I even got to meet a few of the people I knew from the List.

Mostly I am doing better now, but every so often things still break through in unexpected ways. When we moved into our new house, I would lay on my back in our bedroom, everything would come flooding back. I kept reliving my surgery. Once again, I could barely sleep and sex was definitely out. Eventually I realised that the light fixture above our bed reminded my subconscious of the large round surgical lights. Chris replaced it with a ceiling fan, and it hasn't been a problem. I wonder though, when the next inexplicable reminder will come.

Madelynn's "birth" story

2007-10-05T12:36:00.000-05:00

This story is reposted from my Myspace blog. I wanted to preserve it here, and this way I also don't have to retype it. Telling this story is very painful for me, even three and a half years later. I wrote it during my pregnancy with Emily.

*** WARNING: This is not a warm fuzzy birth story. Please don't read if you are pregnant and trying to gestate in peace. ***

I started this story once already. I got about halfway through when the page refreshed and I lost it all, so this time I'm being smart and writing it in Word! It took me a few days to find the right headspace to tackle the story again. But I really feel I need to get it out there, to cleanse myself of this story. I don't want it coming back to me during the birth of this new baby, so I am releasing it to the universe.

I told the story of Maddie's conception in my previous blog, so I won't rehash it here. I spent until about 18 weeks being really sick. I lost more than 30 lbs. It was really awful, but morning sickness usually means a sticky baby, so it was a relief in many ways. Once I could manage to get myself to the doctor, I went to my obstetrician appointments like a good little patient. But despite the fairly high-tech conception, I wanted a very low-tech birth. So I started looking around for a midwife. I had no idea how difficult it can be to find a homebirth midwife if you aren't "connected," even in a pretty birth-friendly area like southern California. I did manage to find one woman, and I liked her very much. There was just no way that as a poor military family we could afford her fee of $3500. I know now that most midwives will work out a payment plan or something, but at the time I didn't even know to ask. So I reluctantly dropped that plan. But I couldn't drop the idea of a homebirth.

One day Chris said something to me along the lines of, "Let's just do it ourselves." This one simple statement resonated immensely. We did some more reading and decided that unassisted birth seemed like a perfect fit. We didn't really *plan* though, it was more of a cross-our-fingers sort of thing. We also didn't know to keep our mouths shut about it. I told my mom, an RN, asking if she would come attend us. Well, not only was she unwilling to come, she did her best to talk me out of it. She would call us, asking what we would do if XXX complication happened, usually the complication having been dug out of a dusty obstetrics manual and something that happens to one in every billion births. We just had to conclude that you can't control everything and sometimes bad things happen. Bad things happen in hospitals too. If you read the actual research, bad things happen far more often in hospitals than at home. But this was probably the most undermining thing that happened to me. My mother, who fought for and had a vaginal birth after three c-sections, absolutely did not believe in my ability to birth my child. I told myself at the time that I wasn't letting it affect me, but it was. It affected me profoundly. To the point that I didn't even want her to know I was pregnant again when it happened.

At some point towards the end of my pregnancy, we were informed that Chris was scheduled to go underway for a week leaving right on my due date of March 8. I knew there was no way I would have this baby early, after all, first timers rarely go before their due date. So, while Chris tried to get leave so he wouldn't have to go, I tried everything I could to keep the baby in as long as possible. No sex, no cervical checks at the doctor's office, no spicy foods even. I did mention at one of my doctor's appointments that we wanted to go late so Chris would be there. They offered to induce me at 37 weeks, but when I declined, they didn't push the issue.

Eventually, Chris told someone in his chain of command that we were planning a homebirth in hopes of finally being granted the leave we wanted. Boy, did that backfire. They immediately tried to get him to sign paperwork saying he would force me, even against my will, to go to the hospital at the first sign of labor (he didn't sign) and threatening him with court martial if he didn't comply. (This would have been on the grounds of failure to obey a lawful order. It wasn't a lawful order, as kidnapping is illegal. So we would have won, but they could hold him and dock his pay for a long time while it got sorted out.) Doctors from the hospital started calling me at home and threatening me with Child Protective Services. (I called CPS directly and was informed that if the only charge is homebirth, even unassisted, they don't bother to even investigate.) We decided we needed some legal advice. It had to be military, because we weren't doing anything wrong by civilian law. We just had to find out if it was against military rules. So we spent the next day (I was exactly 39 weeks now) in the legal office. The lawyer there eventually told us we were in the right, but they could make us miserable for a long time, which we knew already. But most of the time was spent with her trying to give us medical advice. We were so discouraged. Chris went to try to clear things up with his C.O. and I went home to rest.

After a few hours, Chris called me to let me know that everything was taken care of. The C.O., who had not been involved in this fiasco up to this point, was appalled at how we had been treated. He gave Chris the leave we needed and also prohibited anyone else from discussing it with us. That was such a relief. He had duty that night and had to stay on the boat, but I went to bed. The next morning I woke up around 4:30 to a "pop" and a bit of fluid. I thought it was my plug releasing, though I'm pretty sure now it was my forewaters. I also had this strange "knowing" that I was in labor, even though I hadn't had a single contraction. I got up and went online to let some people on a message board know that something was happening. I got a few light contractions then, but nothing strong or regular.

Chris was having his wisdom teeth out that morning, so I went to the store around seven to pick up some soft foods for him to eat and something easy for dinner. I was pretty sure I wouldn't feel like cooking. By the time I got home and had the groceries put away, the contractions were coming every ten minutes or so, but weren't very intense and I was able to continue what I was doing through them. Chris called to be picked up from the dentist's office, so I headed out.

After hitting the pharmacy for Chris' vicodin, it was almost lunch time. We went out to Carl's Jr. for hamburgers (so much for all the soft food I got!) Then we went out to WalMart to try to get the contractions to strengthen. Chris remembers almost none of this. Vicodin does strange things to him. There was something really neat about being in a crowded place and being the only people who knew that we were in labor. While we were at the store, I had a few contractions I needed to stop and breathe through. We stayed for about two hours and then I wanted to go home.

We were still telling each other and ourselves that we were going to stay home, but deep down I think we both knew that if this child didn't fall out of me, we were going to the hospital. The risk of someone changing their mind about harassing us just wasn't worth it. Plus our spirits were completely crushed. Our long awaited baby was on her way and all we could think about was Chris going to jail!! So when we got home, I started packing a hospital bag. We said it was just in case. We also set out tarps in case my water broke. It took a long time to pack the bag because the contractions were about 5 minutes apart and I had to breathe through all of them. They weren't painful or even anywhere near as intense as they eventually got, but they did require my attention.

Once the bag was packed, we had dinner and watched a movie on T.V. I don't remember now what the movie was, but I remember being amazed at the time that I was still keeping up with it despite the frequency of contractions. Its funny now, but I was sure at the time I was in advanced labor. I was sitting on my birth ball and during contractions I would slip backwards off the ball onto my knees and rest my body on the ball. By the end of the movie I could no longer follow the movie and I didn't care. (I know now this was the switch from early to active labor, but you could not have convinced me of this at the time.)The contractions had changed and were really intense. I felt like I was being twisted around my spine. I had to sit on my knees with my hands behind me and lift my belly in the air or the contractions were unbearable. The strange bit of all this is that I was not in any pain. They were just intense. I was also doing this alone. Chris was too out of it to really help. We tried to go to bed, but lying down was impossible for me. So Chris slept while I labored alone for awhile. I had to go to the bathroom constantly. For some reason, it never occurred to me to just stay in the bathroom to labor. I would have three or four contractions on each trip to the bathroom and the same on the way back to the living room. So each time I would get to the living room I had to head back to the bathroom. I did this for maybe an hour, though it felt much longer at the time.

I woke Chris up because I did not want to be alone any more. I needed someone to tell me I was doing well, that I would get through this. But just him being conscious was an improvement. I tried one contraction on my hands and knees in the shower, but gave that up. Then I had Chris try pushing into my lower back. That helped a lot, but I felt like I was inconveniencing him, so I had him stop. After that, I felt completely lost and confused. I had a few contractions where I was shaking and throwing up. I was thinking, "Finally, transition. This will be over soon!" But when the contractions returned to the way they had been, and for over an hour, I was feeling desperate. I had Chris check my cervix. He didn't know what he was doing, but from his description, I guessed I was about four centimeters. I was done. I could not do this basically alone anymore. I needed to sleep. So we headed to the hospital. It was 2:00am.

The trip to the hospital was really quick; we only lived 5 or 10 minutes away. I was so afraid of dealing with contractions in the car, but I didn't have a single one. I felt so much better once we were there. I was able to handle the contractions so much better hanging from Chris's neck. I was having a ton of contractions. It took a very long time to get from the parking lot to the elevator. I didn't really want to go up to labor and delivery. Something about being outside was wonderful. March in San Diego is cool and beautiful. And Chris was really "there" with me. For the first time, he didn't seem completely spaced out on the medication. But I felt like I had committed. So we went up.

I had already filled out all the paperwork, but when we got to the floor, they insisted I fill it out again because someone needed to see me do it. They made Chris run back down to the car to get some stupid card so they wouldn't have to write down my address two extra times. The whole time they were so cold and awful. So I dealt with contractions while being looked at like I was a bug or something equally vile for ten or fifteen minutes, then was taken back to the room where they decide if you are even in labor. When Chris came back up, they wouldn't tell him where I was, so he's panicking and I'm all alone. For some reason, they insisted I take a pregnancy test before they would do anything else. I don't know the point of that, as it came back negative (only blood tests came back positive that pregnancy. I don't know why.) They didn't do anything different with a negative test than they would with a positive test, at least that I could tell. They made me get into a hospital gown even though I didn't want to, and was hooked up to a monitor, which by that point was showing the contractions as irregular (hmmm… wonder why that could be.) and some doctor I never saw again gave me a cervical check. I was 4 cm, as I had thought, 60% effaced and a -2 station. They said I should go walk the hall because it is impossible to tell if I was in labor because I hadn't had a cervical check before I was in labor. I don't remember what I said in response to this idiocy, but they shut up real quick and admitted me. I wish I had taken the opportunity and gone home. Or, better yet, had the baby on the lawn. Chris finally found me as I was headed to the room.

I was exhausted and really had no strength to fight anything they wanted to do to me, so when I got to the room, I let them hook me up to the monitor and start an I.V. It took the woman a very long time to start the IV and my arm was purple by the time she finally had it. I was GBS positive, so they started the antibiotics. I asked about some IV meds so I could sleep for awhile and get up and labor more in an hour or so and was told I could have an epidural or a spinal. I was not allowed to have anything else. I have no idea why, though I suspect it has something to do with the crap we had been through with being threatened by the doctors earlier in the week. When I requested my records later, huge papers were in two different spots informing everyone who looked at my records that I was a "problem patient." Every time I got up to use the bathroom, some nurse would run in and yell at me for disturbing the monitors. Eventually the anesthesiologist came in to explain my "options." I kept interrupting him for the contractions. I was not going to let him try to talk about the risks when I couldn't pay attention. Once, I heard a woman's voice (a nurse, I assume) in my ear telling me she's never seen anyone handle contractions as well as I was. I never saw her as my eyes were closed, but it was the only time all night anyone said anything nice to me. My eyes still well up, almost three years later, thinking about how nice she made me feel.

I opted for the epidural when it became clear they weren't going to budge on the other medications. It was given to me right away though. And they waited until it took effect to put in the catheter, so it wasn't all bad. Or rather, it could have been worse. I really wanted to sleep, but I wasn't allowed to turn out the lights and someone was in and out constantly. I tried to lie down but if I was on my side, the monitor wasn't registering. That meant someone had to come in and yell at me. I could not get comfortable lying on my back with a rolled up towel under my butt to keep my hip up. So I kept rolling on my side and they kept yelling. Eventually they got fed up and told me if I wouldn't be still I was going to be strapped down. Some of the padded straps from the psych ward were put on the table next to the bed to make the point. My cervix was checked again around this point by the one doctor I had prayed the whole pregnancy I wouldn't have to deal with. I was 6 cm, 80%, and 0 station. For only two hours, this was great progress. But the doctor didn't think so. He told me he was going to break my waters or give me pitocin. I told him he couldn't do either of those. He pushed my legs apart and did it anyway. I was telling him no and not to touch me, but the nurse didn't even blink while I was assaulted. She just hooked in the pitocin I had said no to. As soon as the doctor left, I sat the bed up, which pulled out the epidural, but we didn't know it. Ten minutes later another nurse gave me another dose of pitocin and a few minutes later I had more. No one ever bothered to write on my chart that I had been given the ordered pitocin, so I was given a triple dose, at least. My records just have a question mark under pitocin dosage.

Because I was feeling very unsafe in this situation, my labor stopped dead. (I thought for a long time that I was "broken" because of this. But really, my body did what it should. It tried to keep my baby from coming into a hostile environment. I thank it now.) But my body couldn't resist the pitocin forever. My uterus contracted and wouldn't let go. It just kept peaking and peaking. My baby tolerated this for a few hours, but eventually her heart couldn't cope. She started having the decelerations in her heart rate that made everyone flip. I was given oxygen and people were fluttering around. Some doctor came in and said, "Its okay, you were going to need a c-section anyway. Your pelvis isn't shaped right. But I've had three women prove me wrong just today." Idiot. Someone else came in saying they were going to put in an internal monitor. I said no, and she said, "Well, you can have five minutes, but we ARE going to do it." I was not about to not believe her after what I'd already been through. I was NOT going to let them screw anything into my poor baby's head. So we tearfully decided just to have the c-section now. Once we decided that, we were left alone for over an hour, believing the whole time that the baby could die any second. No one came in, no one talked to us. It was terrifying. I cried the whole time.

Once the prep work began, though, it was fast and furious. I don't even really know what all was done to me. The only thing I remember was hearing, "Its okay, she's still numb." It turned out it was the anesthesiologist. The student wanted to double check to be sure I was numb enough not to feel the surgery. The doctor was trying to talk him out of it. God bless that student, he checked anyway. He's the one who figured out my epidural wasn't even in place anymore. I was still numb a little, but not enough for the surgery. So they knew I needed a spinal. I told the nurse that I didn't want my baby given a bottle or eye drops and I didn't want her under the warming lights. I wanted her to be held by daddy and no one else. She just looked at me and said, "That's a little Woodstock-y, don't you think?" I didn't have much hope my baby would be treated well, so I was very stressed.

On the way to the operating room, the baby's heart rate dipped to the 60's, which is cardiac arrest for a tiny baby. My own heart rate was in the 150's, so everyone thought they just had the pulses mixed up. A quick manual pulse check showed the machines were right, but no one besides me bothered to check. I was given the spinal and Chris came in. Things get a bit fuzzy for me here, because my blood pressure went down to 70/40. I saw it on the machine. I was given two doses of epinephrine to get it up, but it didn't work. I know that I heard the water splash on the floor when they got to the point of breaking the hindwaters. There wasn't enough suction. I heard her cry before her body was out. Just a screaming head. She was peeing as they pulled her out. Someone shouted, "She's peeing in the field!" I think I said, "Good for her!" or something like that. For some reason it made me proud that she was going to give them a piece of her mind. I expected to be shown over the drape, and I was (and am) so sad that I didn't get that. She was taken over to the warming table where Chris cut the cord. He also took a picture of her, and I got my first glimpse of my precious child as an image on a camera screen. That hurts more than I can say. I appreciate so much that he thought to take that shot, but no mother should have to see her child for the first time like that. When I took her out, I was given a quick glimpse, but she was wrapped up so tight and her head was covered in a hat. All I could see was a cloth bundle. I kissed it dutifully, but it didn't matter. The whole time the student anesthesiologist was talking to me and telling me what was going on. Not gory details, but keeping me engaged. After Chris left with Maddie, I think I would have gone completely insane had it not been for him. I had a tiny bit of hemorrhaging and as they cauterized, I could smell myself burning. It was awful. I don't remember much else of the hour it took to put me back together, except that the surgeon seemed to be teaching the resident. (It turned out the resident did the surgery. And in her own words, she did "a piss poor job of it.")

In recovery, I was crying because I wanted my baby so bad. It only took an hour to get her to me, but it felt like forever. It had been two hours since she was taken out of me, and I have never felt so empty in my whole life. The woman in charge of recovery was an older grandmotherly type woman. She was so nice to me. She kept calling around to find Chris and Maddie. It turned out they were in some side room, not where they "should" have been and that was the delay. But she got me all cleaned up, she was very gentle and sweet to me.

Finally my baby was in my arms where she belonged. It took 8 hours, but she finally nursed and didn't stop until I got pregnant again. We had a great nursing relationship, and physically I recovered well. I had no major complications. Mentally, though, was another story. I was a wreck. I was very depressed and the antidepressants actually made it worse. I tried to get counseling, but the therapist I saw simply couldn't believe that it was possible to be scarred from a birth experience if the baby was alive. I was having flashbacks and I couldn't sleep. I cried everyday. I still cry. Writing this out, almost three years later, has been a very tearful experience. I was raped, and humiliated, and robbed of the most important experience of my life. And people think its okay because the baby is healthy. Physically, she was, but she had nightmares too. Constantly. Mental states count when measuring health. And moms count just as much as babies. There is no excuse for the way we were treated. No one should have to go through that.

A loss

2007-10-05T08:57:00.000-05:00

I was finally pregnant! But I was still bleeding, at times very heavily. Needless to say, I was worried. When I got home from Texas, I had an ultrasound to check on the baby. I was seven weeks along and the baby was about half a centimeter long. But her (we found out she was a girl at the 20 week ultrasound) heart was beating along like crazy. It was so amazing to see on the screen and hear it pounding through the room. I had brought a videotape with me to record it. I love having that on tape to watch again and again.

At 8 weeks I had another ultrasound, to check her growth, which was exactly what it should be. I was still bleeding, but was assured this was normal and nothing looked wrong. I was released from the fertility clinic and sent to the general OB clinic.

At 10 weeks, I was bleeding very heavily and cramping hard, so I went into the urgent care clinic. I was given another ultrasound, and all they could find was an empty amniotic sac. Two doctors looked and looked and couldn't find a baby. I was sitting on the exam table crying and crying. I couldn't believe it was over so quickly. A third doctor heard the commotion and requested a look. I didn't much care who was doing what at that point, so I let him run the ultrasound too. All of a sudden we heard a heart beat. Completely separate from the empty sac, he found my baby, looking healthy and strong, in a sac of her own. I have never gone from tears of despair to tears of joy so quickly!

The only explanation we have is that at one point I was carrying twins that were either missed during my first two ultrasounds, or no baby ever developed in the second sac. Either way, it explained the bleeding. My body was trying to miscarry the empty sac while also holding on to the healthy baby. I continued to bleed part of the way into the second trimester, but we fortunately never had another scare like that.

Life has other plans...

2007-10-04T18:01:00.000-05:00

Chris came home from his deployment in January of 2002. We were planning to start trying for a baby of our own. I was charting my cycles so we would know the best times to try. (For more information on this, check out Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler) The first month, Chris had to be gone during my peak fertile time. The cycle after that is where everything went really wrong. I waited and waited and waited for my morning temperatures to show that I had ovulated, but the cycle stretched on for months. After six months of the same anovulatory cycle, I saw a doctor. Eventually I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, or PCOS. We also got on the (long!) waiting list for the infertility clinic. I was 19. We waited a long time, but somehow, we got into the clinic several months sooner than we expected, and we began the infertility treatment process. I did two rounds of Clomid, a pill that is supposed to encourage ovulation. I never showed any signs of ovulation, even on the highest dose. I was starting to feel very desperate, because by this point we have been trying to get pregnant for almost 18 months. Chris was also leaving on another deployment soon.

I remember one certain appointment really well. It wasn't actually an appointment, because I walked in and begged to be seen. Chris was leaving in two days and I still hadn't ovulated that cycle. I thought we would have to wait another six months to keep trying. I was given a pelvic ultrasound and was informed that I wasn't even maturing any eggs. Nothing could be done right now to help. But we were given a little ray of hope. We were given the name of another fertility clinic in town, a civilian one, with cryofreezers. We could go there, and have Chris' sperm frozen for use while he was gone. There was only time to get one vial before he would have to go on deployment. And we would have to pay out of pocket. So far, we had been very lucky and our insurance had covered everything. We could never have done any of this otherwise.

Somehow, we found the money and went right over to the clinic. We took care of that business, then went home so he could pack. He left two days later.

And was back two days after that. Something had happened and the deployment was pushed back a week! This gave us time to collect two more samples, one of which was able to be put into two vials. This gave us four chances! It was the best we could possibly ask for.

The day Chris left for good was also the day I gave myself my first injection. I was at Debbie's house, and I was very nervous about doing it. The needles are small, and they go into the fat on the belly. But putting a needle into your own skin for the first time is very nerve-wracking. I used ice and numbed up my belly. Then I shut my eyes, decided that was a bad plan, opened them again, and did it. Really it wasn't a big deal. Over time, I got really good at injecting myself. Somewhere along the way I figured out that the ice actually made it more painful, so I didn't use it anymore.

One thing I wasn't expecting was the constant blood draws. Once I started the drugs, blood had to be drawn every day or two to check my estradiol levels. This is a tricky balancing act. Too little medication, and I don't mature any eggs at all. Too much medication, and I could hyperstimulate my ovaries, a very painful and dangerous condition. Fortunately, I never had to deal with this. After each blood draw, I would get a call to let me know how many vials of medication to take that day. Usually it was one or two, but sometimes it was three or even four vials. Once my estradiol levels hit a certain level, I also had daily pelvic ultrasounds so we could actually look at the eggs. We needed to know how many there were and how mature they were. (Okay, you can't actually see the egg on the ultrasound. What you look at is the follicle, the capsule the egg is in.) Because we would be doing intrauterine insemination (IUI) not IVF, my eggs would never leave my body. This can raise the chances of supertwins significantly. This is why it is so important to know how many eggs are going to be released.

Once the eggs were mature, and we were pretty sure there were three or less eggs, I would get a "trigger" shot, to finish up the maturation process and cause the eggs to be released about 36 hours later.

I got this shot with the first cycle and had my first IUI two days later. During an IUI, they take the thawed and washed sperm and inject it into the uterus with a syringe attached to a long tube that is placed through the cervix. It is a mostly painless process, except for the clamps the hold the cervix in view. Those hurt!

Then I waited. Unfortunately, there still isn't any way to determine if you are pregnant much before you expect your period. I didn't have to wait long. I started bleeding 8 days after the IUI. Eight days is not long enough to allow a fertilized egg time to implant. So now we have problem two.

I couldn't start the next cycle right away due to cysts on my ovaries. I had to use birth control pills for a month to shrink them. Then I could do cycle two. About this time, I moved from our apartment into a nice townhouse on a cul-de-sac. A neighbor kindly advised me not to drink the water because everyone who moves into that cul-de-sac gets pregnant. I didn't believe her, really, but what could it hurt? I made sure to drink the tap water!

The second cycle was much like the first, except I had to give myself the trigger shot, which is a much bigger needle and goes into the thigh muscle. Scary! I managed somehow. Then, during the waiting phase, I was also given progesterone to lengthen the luteal phase, or time between the IUI and my period. I went 10 days this time, which is borderline long enough, but definitely not ideal.

Once again, I had to do a month of birth control pills between cycles. I was very stressed and depressed, so when I was invited, I decided to go to Seattle to visit a friend. I started my third round of shots while I was in Seattle. I was still very depressed when I got back, and I saw my general practitioner and got put on an antidepressant. It helped a little, but I came to the decision that this had to be my last cycle. At least for now, probably for good. This time I started bleeding again at day 8. I was devastated.

My grandmother invited me to go one a drive to Texas with her, a last minute thing, mostly to get me out of the house. As was usual at the end of a cycle, I had a blood pregnancy test drawn, because I couldn't take the birth control pills until it came back negative.

We were in the middle of the New Mexico desert when I called for the results. When they told me I was pregnant, I couldn't believe it. My wish had finally come true.

Seeing birth firsthand

2007-10-04T15:25:00.000-05:00

My husband, Chris, and I got married when I was 18 and he was 20. He was, and is, in the Navy. Six months after our wedding, he had to go on a six month deployment. New in town, and about to be left on my own, I started looking through AOL profiles for other Navy wives in my area. A woman named Debbie was the only one who wrote me back. She had a three year old daughter and was six months pregnant. We became really good friends. When her husband had to leave on deployment, Debbie asked me to video tape the birth for her. I was so excited! She went into labor the day I came home from a trip to visit family. When I met her in the hospital, she was already in pretty advanced labor. This was the hospital I would be laboring in when I had my babies. Chris and I were planning to try to conceive when he got home right around our first anniversary. Debbie had gotten an epidural that she hadn't originally wanted, but an urge to push long before she was completely dilated proved more than she could handle. About an hour after I arrived, a nurse noticed the baby was already crowning. I grabbed the camera, amid the flurry of "set-up" activity, just in time to catch the one push that brought the baby into the world. The doctor lifted the baby up and, convinced by a previous ultrasound, announced, "It's a boy!!" Debbie looked at her baby and says, "It's a girl!" A bit of a surprise, but all around a great birth.

Except I didn't think so. I hated being in that hospital. It seemed so dirty and dark. The doctor was too disengaged to even look at the baby before making pronouncements as if he were God. The nurses all had snotty attitudes and were frequently rude to me. And why was there such a panic just a few seconds before the baby was born? Why was birth, the most natural event in life, treated like an emergency? I knew there was a better way, and that's what I wanted. I wanted to birth my babies at home, in peace.

In the beginning...

2007-10-04T10:43:00.000-05:00

I was born in 1982 by Cesarean Section. I don't have any memory of actually being told this, and I feel I've known it since as far back as I can remember. It never seemed to matter much. My parents maintain that both my mother and I would have died without the surgery. My suspicion is that this is not true, or if it is, the situation that necessitated the surgery was caused by the same doctors that then "saved" us. But these assumptions are the product of what I now know to be true of obstetrics in general. I know very little about my own birth, except what is stated above. Everything else I have gleaned in little, and sometimes contradictory, bits. My mother went into labor with me, and went to the hospital, as was expected. She labored for somewhere between 12 and 24 hours, most likely on her back, stuck in bed, unable to eat or drink. This was, and still is, typical hospital procedure. I have no idea if she had pain medication. I've always wondered, but have never asked. She doesn't seem to like to talk about it. I can't really blame her. Once it was decided to have the cesarean, she was put under general anesthesia because the doctors were afraid a regional anesthetic would impede her breathing. (My mom is 4'11" tall) Other than the fact that the cesarean was performed, I know nothing about what happened afterwards.

As the oldest child, I was my mom's primary cesarean. My next younger sister and my brother were both born by semi-scheduled cesareans. That is, my mom waited for labor to start, but then she went in to the hospital knowing she would have a cesarean. With my sister, she was under general. With my brother, she had a regional anesthetic, probably a spinal. She did have trouble because she couldn't feel that she was breathing, but she never actually stopped breathing.

When I was eight years old, my youngest sister was born. My mom had to work hard and fight for it, but she eventually found someone to help her achieve her dream of a vaginal birth after cesarean, or VBAC. She was in early labor for almost three days before her water broke and labor really started progressing. Once she was admitted to the hospital, I don't know what happened, how she labored, if there were pain medications used, or how long she pushed, but I do know she did have her VBAC!

My mom's struggle for the birth she wanted has stayed with me and profoundly affected my view of birth. I grew up in a household where cesareans were not "just another way to give birth" and VBAC was a common word. Vaginal birth was clearly preferable.

As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a mom. I don't think the idea of not having children even occurred to me as an option. The first time I remember wondering how I was going to wait to have a baby, I was twelve. At times, my heart would ache to hold the babies I would have one day.

I would come home from school each day and watch "A Baby Story." I loved watching babies be born! My favorite births were the home births. They were so calm and peaceful, the way it seemed to me that birth should be. I hated the medicalization of hospital birth, the monitors and needles and especially the surgeries. I often turned those off. It hurt my heart to watch them.

I frequently thought about becoming a midwife. I never mentioned it to anyone that I recall. My family was and is very involved in the medical community. My father was working construction at the time, but he kept a current nursing licence. Much of my extended family worked medical careers. As I got older, my dad went back to nursing, and my mom became first an Emergency Medical Technician, then an Emergency Room Nurse. Being a midwife seemed counter to what my family believed.

I was a normal teenager. I wasn't a birth-obsessed outcast or anything. I had lots of friends and was involved in many different activities. But birth was always an undercurrent to my life. Something that was always on the back burner. I was crazy-proud of my mom's VBA3C (vaginal birth after 3 cesareans) and I loved to tell people about it. I still do.

I consider myself an intelligent person, but even smart people do stupid things. I got pregnant at 17. I was shocked, and scared, but a little excited too. I ended up having an early miscarriage. It was gutwrenchingly awful, but part of me was glad that I wouldn't be having a baby that young. I was not ready. We (the father, now my husband, and I) named the baby Catherine Marie, even though it was way too early to know the sex. We call her Katie, and still speak of her. I never told my parents.

This history plays a huge part in the birth stories of my own two children, my reaction to their births and the entire course of my life.