Willow's birth story

Born Sunday, December 19th at 9:08 p.m.
7 pounds, 15 ounces; 20.25 inches

 

On Friday, December 17th, Mark and I attended the movie Black Swan while River enjoyed some free childcare at my gym. A loud scene from the movie took place in a disco. At that point, I felt a kick more powerful than anything I’d felt so far. It was so hard that Mark could feel the reverberations in the next seat. Looking back, I wonder if that was her announcement that she was on her way.

On the morning of Saturday the 18th, I took River to the gym, where I walked on the treadmill. Then we attended a holiday cookie exchange. I brought the speculaas (St. Nicholas) cookies I’d spent the entire previous day making, we visited with friends, sampled homemade treats and brought home at least six dozen of them. While Mark put River down for his nap I got a haircut, then came home to work on my statistics final exam.

While working on the exam that evening, trying to finish it by Monday, I noticed something I thought might be contractions. They weren’t very painful, but they seemed to come with some consistency, about once every 10 to 20 minutes. I had seen some cervical mucus for the few preceding days and it had continued throughout Saturday, leading me to think that it was possible she was coming soon.

I became distracted from the exam and began to google topics such as “what does a contraction feel like?” and “how long can contractions precede labor?” When I saw the real (vs. Braxton Hicks) contractions described as something that comes in a wave and becomes progressively more frequent and stronger, I felt the wave was an accurate description. I began to note the time to see if they were getting progressively closer and stronger. I decided not to wait until the Monday due date for my exam, but aimed to try to finish it by Sunday. It was possible that she was going to come soon so I warned Mark’s mom, and our doula, Rita.

I became stressed about what priority was most important to pursue – getting rest while I could, finishing my exam so it wouldn’t be hanging over my head, or getting essential preparations, like packing a hospital bag, taken care of. Mark told me to stop stressing and do one of the three things.

I put off the stats exam in favor of packing the most critical things and then getting some rest. I asked for Mark’s help to care for River on Sunday so that I could focus fully on trying to get the exam done that day. I told him if I was still pregnant on Monday, I’d make up the hours to him then. He agreed.

On Saturday night, I took my regular two Tylenol p.m.s and was able to get a good night’s sleep. I thought there might be a sign in the morning, such as blood-tinged mucus or perhaps my water breaking. But there was nothing obvious, making me think perhaps I had been mistaken. Nevertheless, I was still committed to trying to finish my exam that day and began working on it at 8 a.m. I had a Whole Foods golden-graham-type cereal for breakfast, tea with milk and some holiday cookies.

Mark took River out for lunch so I could focus on my exam. They went to a local restaurant and Mark used his Droid to send me photos of River with Santa Claus and River proudly holding a candy cane over his burger.

By the time they came back, bringing me a takeout burger, I wasn’t feeling so good. At 12:30 I let Mark’s parents know I was having contractions 10-20 minutes apart. I hid in my room while Mark put River down for his nap. I nibbled at the cheeseburger, but only found the pickle appetizing. Instead, I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. For me, labor brings on feelings of despair and inadequacy. I dreaded going through the pain again. But I had to hold myself together because we had a pre-scheduled meeting with our student doula at 1.

When River went down for his nap, I kissed him with an intense feeling of nostalgia, knowing it was probably the last moment I’d see him as my only child. I told him that when he woke up, some friends would probably be here to play with him, and then grandma and grandpa would be coming.

When our doula, Rita, came, I tried to listen to her politely, but wasn’t very engaged. Her friendly chatter didn’t help my scared and depressed state. Every so often I’d double over as a wave of pain washed over me. I asked what she suggested doing and she said I should do whatever I could to get my mind off of labor. She said she went to the zoo and that her daughter pointing out monkeys made her forget about her contractions. She suggested I head out to a place like Toys R Us, where I’d be distracted by the crowds of holiday shoppers.

I could see walking around the neighborhood in better weather. But to take a big trip out to a zoo or a shopping center when labor had already begun? It didn’t feel like the right thing for me.

She said she had another appointment scheduled from 4-6, but we could call her if we needed her before then.  She offered to stay with us until her appointment, but I said no. Of course I took her off guard. She was expecting to just come and discuss the birth, not to find her first-ever client in labor. But her excited and nonchalant manner didn’t work so well with my fear and sadness.

While I wasn’t going to head out to a shopping mall, it was helpful to hear that I should try to keep my mind on other things. So I tried eating my cheeseburger and failed. Tried watching a movie and failed. But I did manage to get preparations underway – finalizing my suitcase, calling River’s caretakers to see if they were available, notifying my professor that I wouldn’t be able to finish my exam as I appeared to be in labor, canceling my appointments for the coming days.

I called Dr. G shortly after Rita left. Though my voice was calm (unlike the tearful voice I had when calling about my first delivery), Dr. G didn’t question me, but told me to come right in. He would be at the hospital that evening. I told him I needed some time to set up care for River and told him I’d call him when I was on my way. He gave me his cell phone number.

I called my friend Sarah and put her on guard, but tried to hold out as long as I could. I’d occasionally double over in pain, but it wasn’t unbearable and I was able to go about things. It was helpful to feel I was getting things in order. Mark kept asking me when I was going to tell Sarah to come and I’d reply, in a little while. I didn’t want to stay home until the last minute, but neither did I want to get to the hospital too early, as I feared there would be more chance of undesired interventions.

Around 3:30 I called Sarah and said she could come anytime. She arrived shortly after 4 with her husband and baby. I was still in good enough shape to show them around and to chat with them, though every so often I’d duck into the kitchen to get through a contraction.

Mark and I got in the car and stopped at the library to rent a DVD from RedBox. We hoped to rent The Kids Are Alright, but it wasn’t there. Last time we spent many calm hours after receiving the epidural and we expected it would be the same this time. Might as well get ourselves a movie. On the curb outside the library, I ran into the owner of the yoga studio where I took prenatal yoga. She was on her way out of town and handed me a coupon to a toy store, saying she wouldn’t be able to use it before Christmas. I don’t think she noticed I was in labor.

Mark offered to drop me off at the hospital front door, but I said I could walk from the parking lot with him. He grabbed the heavier bags, I grabbed a pillow and the lighter things and we walked in like normal visitors to the hospital, though we may have looked like we were moving in with all the stuff we were carrying.

We got to the hospital around 4:30. I knew Rita was meeting her other client at this point, so I sent her a text letting her know we were at labor and delivery.

Unlike last time, when I entered the emergency room in tears and doubled over in pain, this time I was able to walk in the front door and take the elevator up to maternity. We were buzzed in and led immediately to our room. They appeared to be waiting for us and that was a pleasant first impression.

A nurse, Pam, gave me a gown and told me to change. I took my time unpacking while I still had normal clothing on, preparing things for the post-epidural relaxation. I’d bend over with a contraction every so often, but was still doing remarkably well, enough to smile and chat with the nurse when she came in.

Pam started to ask me questions and typed the answers into a computer screen. I expected this would be short, since I’d already filled out the pre-registration paperwork. But it took over an hour, during which time the contractions strengthened considerably and I became anxious and irritable, asking her how much longer it was going to take and when I could get the epidural.

When she finally finished all the questions and hooked me up to a fetal heart rate monitor, she said that I couldn’t have an epidural until they did a blood test, so they’d have to get a phlebotomist to draw blood. I had just had a platelet count not long before and Dr. G told me that was to ensure my levels were high enough to be able to get an epidural. I wasn’t expecting to do yet another one at the hospital, but apparently the anesthesiologist required it since my platelet counts had been on the low side of normal.

If one needed blood drawn in a hurry, you might think a hospital would be a good place to find someone capable of doing it. But there was no phlebotomist to be found. I waited over a half hour before they could find one, by which point I was bent over sobbing with each contraction. They were coming rapidly, were very painful, and I feared the quick labor combined with the slow hospital services would prevent me from getting an epidural. The last thing I wanted was to push out what I expected would be a large baby without medication. A half hour doesn’t seem long in retrospect, but with contractions coming every two minutes, that was a lot of extra pain.

Around this time, Rita called Mark, but I asked him to ignore it. I didn’t think her presence would help me at this painful and stressful time and I preferred Mark be there for me rather than providing her instructions on how to get in. I suggested we get in touch with her once I had the epidural and the situation was calmer. The doctor had promised me less pain than I experienced last time and he occasionally came in, looking concerned. Later he told me he was about to wring the necks of the people who couldn’t arrange to get my blood drawn. Why a doctor or nurse couldn’t do it, I don’t know. He offered me an IV to relieve pain, but I wasn’t familiar with what it was, what the effects would be, or how it might affect my ability to get an epidural. So I held off a bit and finally, someone came to take my blood.

Not too long after that, around 6:15 p.m., the anesthesiologist came in. To me it looked like she wore a halo and radiated a golden light. I’d only been 3.5 centimeters at 5:30, the last time they checked before the epidural, but that was plenty of pain for me. I knew what the relief would be, so I didn’t care about any pain associated with the epidural. “Give me as much as you can,” I said. “Full power.”

Rita had arrived by then, so she, Mark and I settled in to wait for the contractions to progress. I pulled out my Brain, Child magazines, gave one to Rita, and began to read one myself. I was reading some funny segments aloud, about rules that parents never expected to have for their kids. One was a creative song about when you can pick your nose and when you can’t.

I thought I’d have several hours on the epidural and that the baby would be born the next day. I would have preferred for her to arrive after midnight. I liked the symmetry of a 12/20/10 birthday more than 12/19/10. Also, the difference of just a few hours would allow me an extra night in the hospital. Perhaps that is why they wanted to hurry it along. Or perhaps so the doctor could go home when he was done with me. Or because the shift change was at 7 a.m. and they wanted to have my case wrapped up by then. In any case, the nurse said this baby would definitely be born before midnight. Not long after the epidural, I’d gone from 3 to 5 centimeters. And less than an hour after that, just before 8 p.m., I was at 7.5-8 centimeters.

I was only on the first pages of the magazine, having enjoyed the effects of the epidural for less than an hour, when Dr. G came in. He said he saw a little irregularity in the heartbeat and so he wanted to tickle the baby’s head to make sure it was alright, a procedure I later found out is called a scalp stimulation test. Again, this was a moment in which it would have been nice to have an experienced doula around. Rita had never heard of this procedure, nor had we, so we had no choice but to trust him.

In order for him to tickle the head, he would have to first break my water. He’d seen some liquid earlier, so he wrote down that my water had broken. I told him it was probably just pee, which was probably correct because the amniotic fluids were something else entirely. They were so plentiful that upon breaking, they spewed out, soaking the doctor and the bed. It was both funny and amazing to see that sudden, powerful explosion and the sight of the doctor dripping with the fluid that sustained my baby, but it was also embarrassing. Just another one of those things you have to deal with, I tried to remember, as they lifted me up to change my bedsheets and the doctor went to change into new scrubs.

That marked the end of the comfort of my epidural. Within moments of the water breaking, I started to feel what is called pressure, but is really pain as the head began to descend. I quickly notified the doctor, since he said he could reduce my pain during this stage, and he gave me a shot which is called a pudendal block. Five minutes after the water broke, I was at 8.5 centimeters, having gone .5 or 1 cm in just five minutes. A half hour later, I was 10 cm dilated.

One issue last time was that the epidural numbed me down to the waist, but it didn’t numb my legs and I could feel everything as the baby was coming out. This time my legs were substantially number. But that meant I couldn’t do anything. Shit, I thought to myself. I should have tried to take a poop before I was immobile on the bed. I asked for a bedpan, but nothing came out and they had to use a catheter.

I tried to accept the indignities – my butt flared out to the world, people collecting my pee, the poop I knew would probably land on the table – as part of life and things that hospital staff see all the time. It would be nice to avoid them, but this was all part of getting the baby out and I’d do what I had to do. Luckily, I knew my disabilities would only be temporary and I’d soon return to normal. But I felt for the elderly who are subjected to such indignities for the remainder of their days.

When it came time to push, I asked for the bar that is placed over the bed. Last time I hung a towel from that and found it very helpful to hold on to as I pushed. The snippy nurse said there wasn’t one available as two other women were delivering at the same time.

Rita was most helpful at this point. She heated a lavender-scented sock filled with rice and placed it behind my back. The combination of the scent and the heat were calming. But still, I was freaked out about not having something above me to hold on to. Again, Rita came up with an acceptable solution, suggesting a scarf be used as a tug of war to simulate the straddle bar.

At the last minute, after I’d lost hope of getting one, someone came in with a bar and a wave of relief washed over me, as well as a little more confidence that I could do this.

The pushing experience was distinct compared to last time. It lasted only 20 minutes, compared to an hour and 40 minutes. But I’d had a lot less time to prepare. Also, I felt less supported, with an inexperienced doula and a not very nice nurse, while last time I had an experienced doula and a friendly nurse. Last time there was no doctor though and this time the doctor was there.

I’m sure I pooed, though I made Mark promise not to tell me about it. I was extra conscious of it this time since the doctor had wanted me to get an enema to prevent it. But whatever. It’s part of the process and just another thing to endure and then move on. The two things I remember most about pushing were:

-The feeling of a lack of progress, as though it was going to take a long time. Last time they updated me on seeing River’s head. This time I think Mark was avoiding looking down there and no one else was providing updates.

-How upset I was at the nurse, who was pushing down on my stomach with the fetal heart rate monitor as I tried to push. I yelled at her to stop it, to stop touching me, to get the f*** off of me, but she said she had to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. “I’ll get it out a lot quicker if you’d stop touching me,” I said, but she wouldn’t stop. I don’t know whether the doctor ordered her to do this, or if he didn’t have the authority to get her to stop. But it added to the discomfort, distracted me, and ticked me off to be touched against my will, especially in a time like that. What was she going to do if she noticed something with the heartbeat – cut me open right there with the baby half out? It didn’t make sense.

It’s already hard to remember the moment she actually came out (it was 9:08 p.m.), except that there was a rush and a holy crap as the head, then the shoulders came through, then a large, bloody being was whisked over to the table. There was some initial concern about some fluid in the lungs due to the fast delivery and her first Apgar was an 8/9. But I was in too much shock at that point to pay much attention and just trusted them to do their jobs.

Unlike River, I had no preview of what she was going to look like. When she first came out, I thought she looked a bit like River. But upon closer inspection, she didn’t look much like anyone. This was a contrast to River, who was initially a clone of Mark, with some strong features of my father and my father’s father as well.

They worked on her in a clear bassinet to my right. I saw them suctioning something out of her mouth and doing whatever else they do while the doctor began to sew me up. He said I had one second degree tear and several small lacerations. I’d avoided an episiotomy, which I had last time.

I told the doctor it hurt so he gave me some local shots which really helped with the pain. I was able to let him go about his work while I stared at my new daughter and admired her beautiful, heart-shaped lips, her shock of dark hair (River was bald) and her dark eyes (River was born with blue eyes, which slowly changed to hazel, then brown). I saw the large red numbers 7 pounds 15 ounces light up when they placed her on the scale and I was surprised to have a baby under 8 pounds. This was a benefit of her arriving 10 days before the due date. The doctor said if she’d waited until full-term or longer, she could have easily reached 9 pounds.

I can’t remember when I first held her, but it seemed like it was quicker than last time. My repairs took 45 minutes this time, compared to over two hours with River. She latched onto the breast right away, and while it soon became very painful, I’m not sure that I remember the first time as being too painful.

I remember seeing my placenta placed into a blue container, which was taken away when I wasn’t paying attention. The snippy nurse later came back and told me she was sorry, but they’d put the placenta I’d requested into medical waste already and it was locked.

“Once it’s locked we can’t open it again. But even if we could, we couldn’t be certain which placenta is yours.”

I doubted there were too many placentas put in there in the last hour or two. I told her I’d be OK with taking the one on top, knowing that it was most likely mine.

“What do you want it for?” she asked. When she’d asked me before, when I’d made clear in my intake that I wanted to take it with me, I told her it was personal. Now she was threatening me with not being able to give it to me, I told her I wanted to bury it.

She came back later and said that they could not open it. It was gone. I was disappointed, and suspected that it was thrown out on purpose. I wanted my baby to have a small piece of land to come back to, a small plot of our first home, her first home, the home where she’d grow up, a space where a small part of her would remain wherever she might go. But instead it would be sold to cosmetics companies and applied to someone’s face.

I was sad about that, but there was nothing I could do. I turned my attention to my beautiful and healthy baby and my new family of four. Unlike last time, I wasn’t swollen and could smile with her, marking our first moments together with photos.

Baby Willow's birth story from our doula

This is the birth story written by the student doula we had at Willow’s birth. My own story is coming soon.

Baby Willow’s Birth

I arrived at the hospital at 6:15 and Wm was getting her epidural. As she settled in, I was able to enter and see how she was feeling. Wm was mentally starting to calm down. Pam was her nurse and said she was contracting regularly at about every 2 minutes. Mark and Wm told me it had been a bit difficult getting to the point of getting the epidural. At the time I arrived, Wm was 3 cm at the last time they had checked her, 90% effaced and a -2 station.

At 7 p.m., Dr. G came in the room and checked Wm, she was dilated at 5 cm, 100% effaced and still at a -2 station. He said she was progressing very nicely and Pam said she would have a baby born before her shift was over. Wm was then able to have some juice and broth and Pam left a bag for Wm just in case she got nauseous. Wm read some from a magazine and relaxed a bit.

At 7:52 – Wm was 7.5-8 cm, 100% effaced, and -1 station and Dr. G entered and said that there was some concern for the baby – that the baby was showing some distress after every contraction and he wanted to perform a scalp stim test on the baby to make sure the baby was ok. In order to perform the test, Dr. G was going to have to break the water.

Dr. G broke the water and performed the test on the baby’s scalp and the test was positive – meaning the baby was ok. At that time, the amniotic fluid shot out and soaked Dr. G’s pants, leaving Wm sitting in a pool of amniotic fluid.

When Dr. G returned at 8:04 after changing his clothes, Wm was dilated to 8.5 cm, 100% effaced and -1 station. He informed Wm that since there was so much amniotic fluid he was able to tell that the fluid was clear that there was no concern of meconium. Wm told Dr. G that she was in a lot of pain. So he checked her again at 8:31 and she was 10 cm, 100% effaced and -1 station. He told her not to be concerned it was just pressure because the baby was dropping.

Dr. G told Wm he could give her a pudendal block to help take the edge off. Head nurse Carrie stepped in to help. Wm was in tremendous pain and Dr. G said probably the best thing to do was to start pushing. He said that he didn’t want her to push unless she either went to the restroom or had a catheter inserted. Wm said she felt she needed to go, so she asked Mark and I to leave while she got a bed pan to attempt to “go” on her own.

At 8:40 the pudendal block and catheter were inserted. Mark and I were able to enter the room again and the dropped the bed and got ready for Wm to start pushing. Wm asked for the straddle bar. Carrie went to search for it but was unable to get it as another patient was using it (we were told there were 3 women including Wm in labor at the same time).

I attempted to use the scarf to start a tug of war to simulate the straddle bar, but just as we got started, Carrie entered with the bar and you could see the relief spread all over Wm’s body. At 8:45, Wm started to push. Mark was up over Wm’s right shoulder and I was at Wm’s left side. After about 3 pushes, Pam removed the straddle bar and told Wm she had gone as far with the straddle bar as she could. They readjusted Wm.

As she was pushing, Wm was yelling at Pam to stop putting the monitor on her belly. Pam would tell her that she had to check the baby’s heartbeat and she needed it there to make sure everything was okay. The next contraction Wm yelled at her again to take the monitor away.

I rubbed Wm’s forehead with a wet washcloth and Mark supported her on her right shoulder. She pushed and at 9:08 the baby’s head was out and the shoulder and body followed immediately. A beautiful baby girl. Her 1 minute apgars were an 8/9 according to Carrie. She told me there was a bit of fluid in the lungs as the delivery was very fast.

Carrie had to leave and Lisa came in and worked with Willow and her lungs to suction and rub her to get the fluid out though her breathing was very good and in normal limits. Once her breathing cleared, Lisa weighed the baby and measured her. Baby Willow was 7 pounds 15 ounces and 20 1/4” long.

At 9:15 the placenta was delivered and Dr. G was doing repair work on Wm who had 2nd degree tears. He told her that she did not have one big tear of a series of small tears.

While the repair work was being done, Mark handed me a camera and asked me to take lots of pictures while he took video. I was able to watch the nurse work on the baby and see Wm watch them from her bed. I felt very honored to be able to witness the love that was present in the room from the nurses working on the baby, the doctor working on his patient, the once again father with admiration of his wife and love for his new daughter, and the once again mother and her love as she viewed her newborn. I snapped as many pictures as I could.

At around 10 pm, Wm’s repair was complete and she and Mark were handed their beautiful baby girl. Everyone took a few minutes looking at this most amazing new person to enter the room, and she was able to latch and nurse from her mommy as soon as she could.

At around 10:45, Mark, Wm, and Willow seemed to be settling in with each other very nicely and I was no longer needed.

Wm and Mark are such an amazing couple. Wm was so strong and her courage was so empowering to witness as she faced her fear of pain and birth a beautiful baby girl with Mark by her side always – a strong support with devotion to her and her comfort, a constant source of humor and strength in both his actions and his words.

The loving support between the two of you will enable you to be caring and compassionate parents to your expanding family. I am honored to have been at your birth. Thank you for allowing me to be there.

Your doula

Beautiful birth story (not mine)

I found this story very moving and appreciated the emphasis on what I believe is most important – life. One can only plan a birth so much. I believe a woman should feel empowered, safe and protected. But I don’t believe that birth defines who or what a woman is. I don’t believe that giving birth a certain way entitles anyone to a badge of honor. Getting it out is an incredible accomplishment in my book – however it is done.

She's here!

Birth story to follow, one of these days.

pretty sure I'll be in the hospital tonight

I’ve given up on the exam. I sent what I finished to the professor and asked for an extension on the rest. I may well be doing a bit of final statistics with a newborn.

The contractions are getting closer together and more painful. I want to cry, which is what happened last time as well. The doctor said I could come to the hospital, which seems a bit early. But I think I’m going to be there this evening.

Packing for the hospital the second time around

As I neared the end of week 37 and still hadn’t packed my hospital bag, I thought I should at least get started with a list of what to pack. So I looked in my files to see if I could find the list I’d made when heading to the hospital to deliver River.

Looking it over made me laugh, even more so than my oh-so-sincere birth plan, as though I could actually control those things.

“Do you think I need a nice nightgown and pink fuzzy slippers?” I asked Mark.

“No. You just get things bloody there anyway, so you might as well use the hospital gown.”

That’s what I was thinking.

“How about the rice-filled sock or the scented lotions and oil?” I laughed.

“Yah right,” he said. “You were definitely more….I don’t know what the word is, but you were more that way last time.” I think he was looking for the word anal.

“I have apple cider on my list last time. What was that for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember drinking it.”

I think it was sparkling cider, meant to celebrate the birth. I also had on my list to label it with my name and to have it put in the refrigerator when we arrived. I might actually leave that one on there. I never would have thought of it again if I hadn’t seen it on the first list, but why not be rewarded with some bubbly?

We don’t have the car seat installed and I’m not the slightest bit anxious about it. Mark said he was thinking of putting it in this weekend. I said I didn’t care either way. We live six blocks from the hospital. I didn’t use the carseat when taking River home, and I doubt I will for this baby.

Neither the bassinet nor the swing are ready. None of the clothes are out. I figure Mark can pull that stuff out when I’m in the hospital. No need to take up extra space now. I haven’t prepared a bunch of extra food. We’re thinking of indulging in a meal service this time, and I can make that call when I get home. I realize that I can order any supplies I may have forgotten from Amazon, if not from other stores, and it will be here within two days. It’s not the end of the world if I haven’t purchased everything in advance.

It’s funny to go through this process a second time and see how my perspective has changed. Of course, that’s to be expected. I don’t think a first-time mother can really have any idea of what giving birth is like, unless she has perhaps been there while a close relative is giving birth.

This time I’m less concerned with all the details, I’m less concerned with being in control. My main priorities are to minimize pain and injury, to minimize the stress on everyone involved, and to come out with a healthy baby and mother.

A student doula?

Over the weekend we met with a student doula, a woman who has gone through the training, but has not attended any births, besides those of her own children. She has given birth to two children, which I think is even more important than attending the births of others. But still, it’s a big experience gap compared to our last doula, who had three children of her own and had attended over 100 births.

Our holiday-season due-date doesn’t work for our prior doula, and we are hesitant to spend $800 when we have a little experience under our belts and I plan to accept pain relief on the earlier side. Nevertheless, we started to worry about the quality and quantity of staffing available over the holidays, what we’d do if we got the one doctor in the practice I’m not comfortable with, and/or a nurse that wasn’t helpful. Perhaps it would be helpful to have someone in the room we knew ahead of time and could count on, even if she wasn’t highly experienced. Perhaps we could find a mutually beneficial arrangement in which we help her meet her qualification requirements and she helps us with support at a minimal cost. So our former doula put us in touch with her student.

She seems like a nice person, someone I’d be happy to share a cup of tea with, someone I could handle being naked in front of when circumstances call for it. She only charges $100, so I thought she was fine for the price.

But in the car ride home, Mark brought up concerns about her chatty nature. During the meeting, I was fine with it, because she came across as friendly. But he made me think, do we really want a chatty person during labor, especially someone who admitted that she may get nervous, although she swears she’s confident and capable of doing the
job? When we looked for a doula the last time, the ones I liked best were the doulas with a yoga or massage background, the ones who exuded a sense of calm and zen-like peace. Perhaps because that’s not my personality and I found that tranquility a good counterforce to my more goal-oriented focus of let’s get this thing out.

Mark seemed to indicate that he wouldn’t be comfortable under the guidance of a chatty person. I told him that if he wasn’t comfortable, then we should skip it. Because one of the main functions that we want a doula for is to be able to guide Mark. If he’s not comfortable with her, then I won’t be comfortable, and it’s not worth it.

I agreed that a more zen-like person would be a better match. However, the likelihood of finding a perfect zen-like student, who is fully available over Christmas and New Year’s, is very remote. We have no other candidates to consider. We had met another doula once who really rubbed both of us the wrong way, and that wasn’t the case with this one. I actually liked this woman - she just might not be the perfect person to guide us through labor. However, I think we are looking at either her or nothing.

As her first potential clients, I imagine she’d be devoted to the job and would try her best. She’d be willing to take pictures and/or write a birth story and I am always appreciative of good record-keeping. She could be a potential source of advice. If she doesn’t know something herself, I think she’d make use of her teachers and student network to find things out. Unless there was a major snowstorm (which is a risk) or she is sick, she would be a familiar face that we could count on seeing. So I don’t see that there is much
to lose in trying her out for $100.

If we hire her, she’ll come to our house for a longer meeting and hopefully Mark could make clear to her what he needs to be comfortable. We have two weeks to think it over, but I think we are learning towards becoming the first practice clients for a doula-in-training.

If you’ve used a student doula, how was your experience?

Study on epidurals in Saudi Arabia

I found this interesting – a study of epidurals vs. other pain medication for Saudi women during labor found no difference in the rate of c-sections. The epidural group had more use of vacuum and forceps deliveries, but the mother’s satisfaction rating was twice as high as those who had other pain medication and their pain levels were lower.

I went to a new ob practice yesterday. The doctor I met with said that in his opinion, there are three components to labor:
1. The mother’s health
2. The baby’s health
3. The quality of the experience

For me, the experience would be better with less pain. I’m hoping the second time around will be less painful. So far, the pregnancy is already substantially less painful than the first time around.

To get a doula or not the second time around?

Having continuous support during labor makes the process go faster. I’ve been wavering on whether or not to invest in a doula for the second time around. Though I admit that having someone there I know is on my side is a huge benefit, even if I have a better idea of what to expect compared to the first time.

A friend of mine says that at her hospital (in North Carolina) they have volunteer doulas available on-call at the hospital, available to everyone. My concern would be not getting to know the doula ahead of time, making it a matter of chance just like a nurse or a doctor. But at least it’s an interested and hopefully caring party available to all, willing to be at the mother’s side for as long as she needs. I do think that should be available to all.

Any thoughts – is a doula worth the investment the second time around, especially if I plan to go for pain relief (epidural) on the early side?

Getting closer to my previous self

I am now back in the world of menstruating women, just over 11 months after River’s birth. I was expecting this to come at some point in the near future. River has been eating solids since he was four months old and has received 2-3 bottles of formula a day since six months or so. I was also feeling rumblings of activity going on down there.

I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, it’s nice to be moving more definitely beyond the new mother stage. I’m losing weight, I’m breastfeeding less, I’m menstruating again, I’m becoming closer to the person I was before becoming pregnant. On the other hand, there is a slight sorrow that River no longer needs the milk in the same way. Both he and I are moving beyond this stage. Of course, I’m glad for him to grow and develop, but it’s also sad to know the early baby days can never be retrieved.

I was waiting to go on birth control until I resumed my periods. One reason was due to breastfeeding (though I know there are options out there that are OK to use while breastfeeding). Another was that I was truly curious about how my body was going to respond. The entire experience of conception, pregnancy, childbirth and the past year has taught me so much about myself and my body. I wanted to see how in tune my body is with my mind – at what point it would allow me to conceive again.

The result is that it wouldn’t have let me have another child any earlier than 20 months after River’s birth. I think that is wonderful. Any less and I either wouldn’t have wanted it or would have found it very overwhelming.

When River was just a few months old, I had a dream in which I was pregnant again. In the dream, I was very distressed. My body wasn’t ready to take on that challenge again. I couldn’t deal with two infants at once. More than anything, and what made me decide in my dream that I needed to get an abortion, was that I didn’t want to deny River the one-on-one care and the breastmilk I thought he deserved during his first year.

Somewhere around ten months, I realized that even though I’d prefer a larger spacing between children, if I did somehow become pregnant, I would keep it. And voila, a few weeks later my body ovulates.

The cycle was short (3 days) and pretty uneventful, as it used to be. However, especially in the first day or so, I felt minor cramps or pains that suddenly brought back the feelings of childbirth. Though I never thought I’d get there, I’m now at the stage of thinking – yeah, that was pretty awful, but it’s a distant event now and River is so worth it and billions of women go through it. It’s hard to recreate the memories of exactly what it felt like (except the extreme pain in the last hour or two, which hasn’t yet faded). But these cramps brought back a faint reminder of the contractions and the memory that yeah, it really did hurt down there, and holy crap, I really passed a large head through my legs!

River is just a bundle of happiness and joy and being a parent right now feels easy and rewarding. I’d like to cut down our hours with our babysitter, but am hesitant to do so because I’m looking for a job and am guessing that as soon as we cut the hours, I’ll find a job and need her more. So we’re hanging on for now and swallowing the large expense.

His intellectual development took a giant leap a week or so again and he went from constant pointing to what really seems to be two-way communication. Now he points specifically at what he wants. And though his main word is dah, he uses it with emphasis and seriousness that make me think he really knows what he wants to communicate, he just doesn’t know the words for it yet.

Physically, he’s also taken a big leap, learning how to walk along a surface, and then to walk while pushing something in front of him. It seemed just recently that we wondered if he’d ever move with confidence. Now we feel like he could take his first independent steps any day now. It’s thrilling to watch.

And not to leave any development out, socially he’s also branching out further on his own. Yesterday I took him to story hour at the library. Up until yesterday, he always sat on my lap and either listened or looked around or ate or drank. This time he immediately squirmed out of my arms and began to crawl around. He didn’t bother anybody and I never had to go retrieve him. He didn’t return to me during the entire half hour. What surprised me the most was that he never even made eye contact with me. He didn’t need any assurance of my presence. I could have left and he wouldn’t have noticed or cared.

“Yes, he’s an independent boy,” Mark said, when I told him about it. Both Mark and I have strong independent streaks, so it’s not surprising that River would get some of that. But to see it so clearly at only 11 months is surprising. Along with his independence he has confidence and a sunny disposition, which I think will serve him well.

Souvenirs from birth

I’m currently reading the book, Eat, Pray, Love. Today, in the love part, I came across this information on an interesting Balinese birth practice.

The Balinese believe that each person is accompanied by four invisible brothers at birth. These brothers come into the world with us and protect us throughout our lives. They are represented by the placenta, amniotic fluid, umbilical cord and the yellow waxy substance that protects a baby’s skin.

When a baby is born, the Balinese parents collect as many of these items as they can. They put them in a coconut shell and bury them by the front door. This coconut shell marks the holy resting place of the unborn brothers. The spot, like a shrine, is forever tended to. The four brothers represent four virtues – intelligence, friendship, strength and poetry. When a person dies, the four spirit brothers collect the soul and bring it to heaven.

I think this is beautiful. It reminds me of the practice I came across in Vietnam, where parents bury the placenta in the backyard. This marks a person’s place of origin and gives them somewhere to come back to throughout their lives.

I had very much wanted to copy this Vietnamese tradition and as strange as my husband thought it was, I wanted to bury River’s placenta in our backyard. We’re renting and won’t be here forever. But I wanted a part of him to remain at his place of origin. I wanted him to know that he’ll forever have a link to that place.

Most unfortunately, our hospital would not allow me to take my own placenta from the hospital. I think this is completely ridiculous given that it’s my body part. When I looked online, I saw that women who sue over this generally tend to win. But I didn’t look into it in a timely enough manner to be able to fight the hospital to get my placenta back.

Should we have another child at some point, this is something I’d discuss with the hospital administration as soon as we’ve chosen a place to give birth. And should they decline to allow me my placenta, I will fight it next time.

The Business of Being Born

I finally picked up a copy of the DVD The Business of Being Born, a film that was recommended to me both by a doula and by a babysitter. It’s a film initiated by Ricki Lake, who found her at-home midwife-attended second birth much more fulfilling than her first standard, hospital birth. In the film, she calls attention to the problems facing obstetric care in the U.S. and seems to promote giving birth at home.

The points she made that I agree with are:

• Being in a hospital can make one feel like they are on a timeline. I felt this both in the process of giving birth (I felt pressure to give birth before the staff shift change at 7 a.m.) and in the discharge (I didn’t feel ready to go home when they thought I should leave). Having a doula there definitely helped me to reject suggestions (such as breaking my water early on) that would have speeded things up without a clear benefit.

• Technology is often used because doctors think the high-tech things are cool, not necessarily because it’s helpful to the mother or child. Case in point – electronic fetal monitoring. For more details, check out the good book A Thinking Woman’s Guide to A Better Birth.

• One intervention can lead to another. I think this is true especially if one isn’t careful. But if you are careful, and especially if you have a trained advocate with you (in our case, a doula) this doesn’t have to be true. I had the epidural, but no pitocin or other inducing drugs (as the movie says is common with an epidural), nor a caesarean. I did have an epiosiotomy, which I didn’t want, but the doctor didn’t give me much of a choice. Soren was a big boy (8 pounds, 10 ounces and 21.5 inches) and I’m not so big down there, so I guess overall I’m impressed I got him out at all.

• Doctors are not trained in seeing what a natural birth looks like. This I think is unfortunate and I hope doctors who care will voluntarily seek out this experience.

Points I disagree with:

• While it’s true that the medical establishment can push women into choices they don’t want, if you prepare for this in advance, you are not entirely helpless. I thought having a doula with us helped immensely. Discussions with the doctor were also of some use. I’d asked him about a “birthing bar” which goes over the bed, so instead of pushing lying down, I was sitting up and had something to grab on to. I was ready to do what I could to avoid induction. Unfortunately, the promise made by my doctor to not force me to use electronic fetal monitoring with the epidural went against hospital policy and was not honored. I learned that next time, I’d have to speak to the hospital admin and the anesthesiologist ahead of time.

• Natural birth is made out to be beautiful and possibly comparatively easy. While I had an epidural, I felt a heck of a lot of the natural elements – several hours before the epidural and everything during the pushing. Most people I speak to who did it naturally usually say that they did ask for an epidural at one point. I’m sure that overcoming that pain makes one feel strong and I admire them for doing so. But the pain is intense, hard, horrible. I don’t think it’s wrong to ask for relief if it’s needed. I also think the film failed to bring up the risk of tiring oneself out from excessive pain, and needing a c-section because there is no energy left to push (I know someone who had this circumstance).

• I recognize problematic cases are the minority, but I think the difficulty of transferring from home to a hospital at a critical point is underestimated. I live about six blocks from the hospital, an easy 15 minute walk from my house. When I went to the hospital, around six hours after labor began, I was in so much pain I didn’t know how I could possibly endure the ride there. I also had great problems remaining seated. The ride was extremely, extremely uncomfortable. My husband was thanking the stars that I didn’t chose another hospital I was considering one hour away. And I don’t think I was any more than three centimeters dilated. In the film, viewers see a ride to the hospital and it’s not pretty in her case either.

I do like the idea of a home birth. I wish it was possible to have a home birth plus an epidural-like medication. My sister-in-law had one baby in a teaching hospital and another with a midwife in water. She said the second was more painful, but less traumatic.

When I look back on my birth experience, I do feel a certain sense of trauma. It was scary and bloody and painful and I didn’t feel entirely in control. But I don’t know that I could or would want to handle any more pain than I did. And because I was strep-B positive, I needed an IV no matter how I gave birth unless I wanted to put my child at risk. Though the film makes me wonder whether doing without the epidural would have made me feel better at the end, I wouldn’t want to be the place of Cheryl Strayed, the author of an essay in the current issue of Brain, Child magazine. Because she felt an epidural could put her baby at risk, she gave birth at an off-site location and went through 42 hours – 42 hours! – of natural labor to give birth to her just-under-11 pounds baby. Thank God she said she “truly suffered’ during her non-intervention birth, “literally..ripped apart at the seams” or I would really feel like a wimp.

Thinking back on the experience, if I had to do it over again, things I would do the same are:

• Having a doula or midwife, especially if giving birth in a hospital
• Having my husband sneak food in
• Avoiding induction and drugs to speed up labor

The main thing I would do differently would be to speak to the hospital administration and anesthesiologist ahead of time, though I know that wouldn’t be easy. From the anesthesiologist, I’d like to know what the drug combinations are and what effect they will have. Those last couple hours in which I felt everything were probably the most traumatic part (in large part because I thought the major pain was over). From the hospital administration, I’d like to know what rules are and aren’t negotiable. I wasn’t happy to be forced onto the electric fetal monitoring, nor was I happy that they wouldn’t let me have my placenta (it’s my body part and I don’t see why they should have the right to sell it to cosmetic manufacturers). I had wanted to copy the Vietnamese tradition of planting a baby’s placenta in the yard of its first home, so it will always have a place to come back to.

In sum, I appreciate Ricki Lake bringing up the subject. I feel like it’s one that not talked about. By the time a woman looks into these issues and begins to think about it, she’s probably already pregnant and doesn’t have a lot of time for advocacy. I wish the film had brought up suggestions for advocacy, things women can do beyond having a home birth that will ensure greater choice for and respect for women in childbirth.

I think the most critical change needed to improve the care women and babies receive is for the medical establishment to loosen strict regulations (if this means signing something absolving them of any responsibility, so be it), for doctors to learn about how birth works naturally, and for hospitals, staff and insurers to give women the freedom to make their choices and deal with their labor on their own timeline.

I think having a caring person at the side of a laboring woman during the entire labor would be a good start. In Spain, a midwife goes through the birth with a woman in the hospital. A doctor comes in only when needed. It seems the perfect combination of trained support and medical attention. A doula can provide the same support in the U.S., but they might not receive the same respect from the doctor as midwives do in Spain. And you need to arrange for them yourself.

I also think it’s important for women to not be thrown out into the abyss of the unknown after birth. In England, midwives stop by and visit the mother at home several days after the birth. This is done for every family under the national healthcare. The mother is able to ask for advice and assistance. And it’s paid for by public funds because it’s deemed important that infants are well taken care of early on and that mothers are helped in doing this. Because of the realities of the U.S. health care system, the success of these things changing will probably be tied in to the possibility of a nationalized health care system – where people are treated as people and not as profit-making patients.

Just thinking back on the experience of birth, just watching the movie, brings up so many emotions – fear, anger, joy, pain, wonder. There really is something to be said for women feeling a bond with others who have gone through the birth experience. No matter how someone chooses to go about it it’s a life transforming experience.

I feel like it’s so hard to know what to do during a first pregnancy because one can’t know exactly what it’s like or what your individual experience will entail until you’ve been there. For those who have given birth, how satisfied were you with your choices? What would you do differently if you were to do it again?

Writing this post motivated me to look at the video my husband shot immediately after birth for the first time. It took me almost ten months to look at it because reliving those moments was just too scary. River is lying on my chest, I continue to pant and to cry out, even after it’s over. I look at him as a strange, heavy weight suddenly upon me. I say owie, because it still hurts down there and still will for some time to come. In all the photos from his birthday, I look awful – puffy faced, shocked. I also see a photo of him on me and blood and guts still dripping out of my lower region. I understand why the Kyrgyz don’t allow men to accompany women in childbirth for fear that they will no longer be attracted to their wives. I respect and appreciate my husband for being there, for holding up and for still finding me attractive. I think it was enough to subject him and the other people with me to that though. So this video is not of the birth, but within the first hour afterwards.

If I Had to Do it Over Again

If I had it to do over again

If I had the opportunity to go through pregnancy and first childbirth again, knowing what I know now, these are the things I would do differently, and the things I would do the same.

Things I would do over:

• I would restrain my intake of sweets and other junk food during the third trimester and after the birth. Then again, maybe that indulgence was what got me through the experience emotionally. However, it also left me with some extra fat cells that are feeling at home in my body.
• Start pumping earlier – I didn’t start until six or seven weeks, when my supply was probably already established at just the level River needed. As a result, I never had excess and I didn’t get much pumping. I imagine it would have been hard to return to work and continue breastfeeding at 12 weeks. But I did enjoy the one-on-one time with baby, without having a machine attached to me as well. Maybe I’d start a bit earlier if I had it to again, but not a lot.
• Get a hospital grade pump right away – I didn’t research pumps and didn’t even realize there is a difference between hospital grades and those you can purchase in stores. I’d buy one used on ebay (as I ended up doing when River was 8 months old). Lactina Selects are now running about $350 used and seem to maintain their value pretty well.

Things I would definitely do again:

• Hire a Doula
• Have a good swing available from day 1
• Arrange for household help for the first two months – especially, someone to pass the baby off to in the mornings after sleepless nights
• Use cloth diapers
• Do prenatal yoga
• Treat myself to prenatal massages
• Get out of the house and continue on with life, taking baby along for the ride
• Have at least five months maternity leave
• Involve my husband in as many aspects of the experience as possible.