Stand Back- I Am About To Empower You

(I admit that I picked this picture because I knew you would want to see it.  It showed up when I was looking for pictures about power.  Just proof- I love my readers!)

So- I hear this sentiment all the time among natural type women who are trying to support natural type birth:

"I want to 'empower' women to have a great birth."


"I want to 'empower' women to make good birth choices for themselves and their babies."

Oh no.  BACK THE TRUCK UP.  'Cause I am getting off right now.

The Free Online Dictionary defines empower thus:

em·pow·er  (m-pour)tr.v. em·pow·ered, em·pow·er·ing, em·pow·ers

1. To invest with power, especially legal power or official authority. See Synonyms at authorize.

2. To equip or supply with an ability; enable:

Why, you might ask, is this neurotic mama worried about the use of this word in this way?  Well, great question.  Let me tell you.

Nobody can EMPOWER me.  That implies that they had my power.

Umm, no.  They didn't.

If they had it then it was THEIR power.  That makes them pretty nice and patriarchal or motherly or helpful or awesome that they wanted to stoop to GIVE it to me, doesn't it?

It also implies that it was somebody else's to give to me.  How is that MY power if I had to have it GIVEN to me.

Empowerment doesn't come from outside of you.  I can't give it or take it from you and you can't do that for me either.  I can't educate you, you have to educate yourself.  I can't make you eat well, you have to do it yourself.  And I can't empower you.  You have to do that yourself. 

If you want to be empowered, you just need to look within.  It is YOURS to take.  Your power is yours to own.  It is yours to use.  Your power can not be given to you.  It could only be given to you if it never was yours to begin with.

Let's stop all the talk on the part of doulas, midwives, and other women about how we are going to give people their own power.  We don't do this.  We can't do this.  The fact that we talk about doing this all the time only shows that WE as natural birth advocates have actually bought into the system that believes that women are incompetent.  Do we really think they need their power given, their choices made, and their responsibility co-opted?  I hope not, because those are staples of what is WRONG with obstetrics. 

It might feel nice to say that we 'empowered women' but in actuality, we are only showing how much we like our own feelings of power when we talk like that.

You are already powerful.  If you act on that or not is up to you. 

Let's own our power ladies.  Our choices.  Our consequences.  Our power. 

Lessons Learned From My Kids

~Everything is better with cheese.   Really.  Even broccoli.

~Wear underwear at dinner.  Then somebody else might help you finish the stuff you don't like.  

~Don't mind the bullies.  They either don't know you or were hurt badly by somebody else, sometimes both.  The only emotion worth having towards them is pity.  

~Be nice to grandma.  (Even if she is your mother-in-law.)  I know.  Rough lesson to learn.

~Don't fight!

~Ninjas can kill anything.  Because they are fast. 

~Lots and lots of info about cheetahs.  Which I have ironically forgotten right now.  Maybe I didn't actually learn that.  But they are fast also, like ninjas. 

~Nobody really deserves to get what they deserve.  Mercy is much nicer.

~A good hug solves almost any problem.

~Getting teeth sucks.

~The right shoe can make you faster.  

~The best Christmas present ever: a harmonica.  (Maybe this depends who you ask.)

~If you don't wear your underwear out in public- most people WON'T notice.  Hmmm...

~If you have curly hair, you can get away with just about anything, because somebody will think you are cute no matter how rude you are being.  

~You will never look better in spandex than you do at the age of two.  And you can rock that skin tight look with a belly that hangs over your pants.  When you are two.  Sadly this is an age sensitive one. 

~Babies are always a blessing. 

~Whoever is most persistent will win.  Intelligence, looks, education, all are not quite as important as persistence.  (If you combine persistence with curly hair, you may end up with a problem.  A screaming problem.)

~A kind word turneth away wrath.

~Forgive quickly.  Forget always.  Families are forever. 

A Screaming Good Birth- Vocalizing In The Hospital, With Some Help From a Doula, & a Chiropractor

 One thing that I never get tired of is a triumphant mom who rocks a natural birth- especially if she finally gets the birth she wants.  What a fabulous day.  You simply can't argue with a woman who feels that giving birth was one of the best days of her life.  This mom said this, "My two daughters were born with interventions that now, I see as fully avoidable. To finally experience natural birth was one of the most incredible moments of my life!"

Enjoy her beautiful hospital birth!

 
While pregnant with my son (whom my MIL and I decided early on would be born on 8/15 just for our own silly reasons) I finally took a real birthing class. I learned soooo much (including what I could/should have done differently with my two daughters) and finally felt prepared for this birth. 

Well, of course at 37 weeks he was still breech and - while it didn't worry me much - the doctors were ready to schedule a C-section. We researched and refused the external cephalic version, instead using our doula and chiropractor to help let things happen naturally. And he turned just fine on his own!

August 13th I was cranky. Well, no, more like miserable. I was bumming, snarky, just all around a negative mess. “It’s a good thing I’m not in labor” I growled at my husband that night. “This is NOT the attitude to go into labor with!!!” (You see where this is going, don’t you?)

That night I noticed that the Braxton Hicks I had been having were getting more of a… painish sensation to them. Oh nonononono… I refused to go into labor. I was just not in a positive mood, this was NOT conducive to a natural childbirth. Dang things kept up. NONONONO!

By morning I could not deny that – while not super strong – they were NOT Braxton Hicks contractions. Sigh. I told my husband I was in very early labor and called my mom to prep her. I had asked that she come and watch the girls on whatever floor we were NOT on! (We have a finished basement on the bottom, and the “house” on the top floor.) I was planning on laboring for as long as possible at home! I called my friend/doula to let her know too.

We were just hanging out, having a relaxing day. It was odd, I was going against the textbook labor; when I laid down, the contractions got stronger, but when I was moving around they got better! Needless to say, I moved around A LOT!!! I was just not in the mood to go into labor!

During one of my walks, I stopped to say something, when

OOF!

I swear I felt the baby punch a hole in the sac!

I opened my mouth to say “Oh boy, my water’s broken” when GUSH! Out it came!!

Like with my 2nd DD, my water breaking seemed to slow down what few, weak contractions I was having. That made me nervous. What if the same thing happened as with her? I could handle the piggybacking now, but the sharp rectal pain? YIKES!

To top it all off, I was still cranky. And I had a kink in my back. I moaned and groaned about that, how I did NOT want to labor with a kink in my upper back, until finally my patient husband suggested seeing my chiropractor. Since I wasn’t in the mood to travel, and my water was leaking with movement, I called and asked if she wanted to come visit one last time before the baby came… and give me an adjustment! She did!

My mom came and the contractions started to slowly pick up. They were very easy to manage at that point…. But the kids wanted (needed?) my attention. We tried everything to nicely explain that mommy and daddy needed some time to help mommy’s body get the baby out, but they wouldn’t go back downstairs! Or if they did, the stood at the bottom of the stairs screaming to each other! GAH!

Finally, being in a VERY unpleasant mood, I called my doula and informed her I was going to the hospital. She chatted with me for awhile and then kindly suggested I stay home, as I could talk through contractions just fine. She knew I was afraid that if I got there early, I might get be more likely to get an epidural. And I agreed.  I think it would have been better to labor at home. BUT, there was no way I was going to do so peacefully, so I decided to go. I knew she had a meeting that night, so I told her not to worry, to come when it was done.

This time I traveled much smarter! We took my mom’s van with the big seat-less area, and I draped over the birth ball. Even when contractions hit (and they were getting stronger) I was fine to get through them. It was actually kind of a nice ride! And when we got there, I walked to the maternity ward, which was a nice change of pace!

By then the contractions were harder to walk through, and it was unpleasant to talk through them. We got checked in and then they wanted to strap me up to the monitor. I asked if, instead of lying back, they could arrange it with me draped over the birth ball, it had worked so well on the way in! They said sure, but first the doctor had wanted to check to see how dilated I was. I politely declined.

The doctor came in and explained that since my water broke, they wanted to get a “baseline reading” so they could tell if I was progressing. I explained that cervical dilation was not a very accurate way of marking progression, so I would prefer not to, since I was handling the labor so well. The rest of the conversation went something like this (repeated about six times):

Doctor: …. OK… but I still need to check you.

Me: No, really, I would prefer you didn’t.

Doctor: … OK… but I need to see how far along you are.

Me: No, it really doesn’t matter… my contractions are getting stronger, so things are moving along.

Doctor: … OK… but I still need to check you.

And so it continued, through a few contractions. Finally, I was so annoyed at the constant badgering I (gruffly) agreed to the check.

I laid back and he started. HOLY COW THAT HURT LIKE MAD!!!! I started scooching up the bed… and he followed! “OWOWOOWOW YOU’RE DONE!” I yelled, my head off the top of the bed. I gave a little kick for good measure. I don’t even know what he said, maybe 4? All I knew was that another contraction started and it was stronger and different then any other one so far! Darn it, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to that!

Needless to say, this did NOT help my mood.

A side note: these contractions were just as different as DD2's were from DD1’s. While DD1 was all back labor, and DD2 was just intense crushing, these were a slight annoying pain… that was all over a tense uterus. Not bad, just different.

I said I wanted to try the hot tub; it wasn’t nearly as big as the one at the first hospital, and it was in a tiny little closet of a room, but I wanted to try. We asked for the CD player to get set up as the water filled. Ooooo… that was MUCH better!! I really enjoyed being in the water…. Although I didn’t like the rushing water. I preferred it still.

A lot of this middle part was a blur. Some points I remember:

- The CD player didn’t work. Nor did the 2nd one. And all the fidgeting around with 

   both disturbed the air. Don’t laugh, when I was in there I could feel the air 

   molecules move, and I hated it!

- My husband tried to get in the tub with me. Nope, it was too small. But we

discovered that AFTER he got in with the small electronic organizer of mine that    

he used to time contractions in his pocket. Yeah, it was fried.

- The nurse agreed to check the baby’s heart rate in the water. I don’t recall the 

  details; I think I just made it clear that I was not getting out anytime soon, so she 

  figured she had better find the Doppler that would go in the water. (That didn’t

  like to work consistently, but hey.)

Eventually my doula came and I was still in the tub, I loved to tailor sit leaning against the edge. Vocalizing felt good, but even when it didn’t, I still made sure they knew I was having contractions!!! It wasn’t “bad” but I was so afraid it was going to get worse!

I remember at one point I needed ginger ale. I mean, I neededginger ale. The world would stop turning if I didn’t get it. My doula went to get some, and was gone too long for my taste! (Turns out that the nurse didn’t want me to have any, so they got into a… conversation about it. I ended up with my ginger ale.)

So, there I was laboring away, handling things quite well. Then I burped. And I could feel them laugh. Mid-contraction. So I moaned “stoooop lauuuughiiing”….. And they didn’t. I could feel it!!! “I am NOT in transition, just stop, it was a burp! I just had ginger ale!!” To this day I won’t let them live it down, I know they were laughing!!!

Soon after I started having this weird thing at the peak of my contractions. It was like I was going to vomit, without the nausea. My lower back would just cramp up… and I did NOT like it. At all. I started to dread it happening…. And would vocalize it!! “Oooouuuuuuuuu…..uuuuuUUUUUUU I DON’T LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS”… Later, I realized that was the “urge to push” starting!

Eventually, they made me get out of the tub. I don’t remember how, because if it was up to me I just would have stayed there! I remember being buck naked, folded in a right angle at the hip, starting to leave when someone had the good sense to put a blanket over me!

We got through the door and I wasn’t planning on going any farther. I sat on the birth ball and leaned on my husband, then started begging for drugs. It wasn’t that it was so horrible… it was that I was convinced I couldn’t do it. I was still waiting for it to get worse! They kept telling me if I got into bed they would give me something, and I kept moaning that I didn’t want to move. I even tried to convince the doctor that if he gave me drugs, I would make sure my mother-in-law worked there as long as he needed her to! (In my head, I was trying to figure out how to break this to my mom!) Finally, the nurse agreed to give me something for the pain.

“WHAT? NO! I DON’T WANT DRUGS! I TOLD YOU I WAS DOING THIS THE NATURAL WAY!”

Nobody ever said a laboring woman was logical.

Somehow they got me on the bed, lying on my side. I was OK there, except those weird abdominal lurching things. (I made my friend promise she would teach her subsequent classes that the urge to push was like the urge to vomit, I don’t care how negative it sounds! It is much more accurate!!) I probably would have stayed there but they wanted me on my back.

I didn’t want to go on my back. I was perfectly comfortable. And honestly, I didn’t think I could get on my back.

Somehow, they got me on my back. I still don’t know how.

The rest of all this is a hodge podge, so bear with me!

I think at one point they said I could push, but I couldn’t figure it out. I gave some half hearted attempts, but I just couldn’t find my groove. But the darn nurse kept poking me. Like, where the babies head was. And it was driving me nuts! I kept asking her to stop, but she didn’t. At one point she started just as a contraction hit, and she announced “I’m just trying to see the baby”.

“YOU WANNA SEE MY BABY?!? I’LL SHOW YOU MY BAAABYYYYYUUUUGGGHH!”

I found my groove.

It turns out, I push quite effectively if I yell.

So the pushing started. I remember at one point I had this horrific pain down my whole leg. I mean, it was horrible. I seriously was glad I was in a hospital because I wanted them to amputate it, that’s how bad it was. Thankfully, my doula told me to just give the slightest push, and it was gone! Whew!

At one point I was pushing and someone said “Almost there! A few more pushes!” and I looked at the clock and said “No, it’s only 11:40, I have at least

20 minutes.” (It was August 14th.)

My husband through all of this was incredible. By now I was unbearably hot so I had him drenching a washcloth in ice water, and then laying it with some ice chips on my head and neck. But his favorite part that he insisted I put in this story was when he started counting out loud. I had warned him I didn’t want that, so as I pushed (with my eyes closed) I started frantically waving for him to stop. According to him, I whacked him pretty hard!! Still, having him there, knowing he supported me, made such a difference!

Finally the baby started crowning. I learned what the term “Ring of Fire” was all about! I begged for some cold water on the perineum, but the nurse said we couldn’t, as it was a “sterile (?!) environment”. Thankfully, the doctor told her to just go ahead and get some, and he applied it himself!

Finally, a head, and a body! He was out! With meconium! They cut the cord quickly and whisked him away. While before I would have said it was my worst fear, I was just so… dazed (in a good way) that I just laid back and smiled. I knew that this wouldn’t be nearly as over-medicinized as it was with Elizabeth. Plus, he was screaming up a storm! My poor doula friend was upset; she knew I had wanted him right on my chest, and to wait for the cord to be cut, etc, but I was OK with it.

I had done it. I had given birth.

I can’t describe the pride I have in that. It took 3 tries, but I was finally able to have the birth I wanted. (And by the way, it was 12:08 AM on August 15th!)

So after just a little bit they brought him to me, and I was able to hold and nurse him.

Well, hold him.

He did NOT want to nurse! He was MAD!

So, we spent quite a bit of time waiting for him to calm down. Every time I tried to bring him to my breast, he never noticed, he was so busy screaming! My doula kept reminding me to put him to my breast, but he wanted nothing to do with it!

Eventually, of course, my 9 pound 5 ounce babe did nurse. He latched on like a pro! We went home that day!

An OB Pushing Her Baby Out At Home? Say It Ain't So!

Is it wrong to admit that when I got this birth story I thought I was being Punked?  Only the sure knowledge that Ashton Kutcher couldn't waste his time on me assured me that this wasn't the case.  Though probably rare, this is a birth story from an obstetrician.  (I admit, I still have doubts.  I must be very, very jaded!)  

Seriously though, I have had four medical doctors in my classes trying to have natural births.  Sometimes even the people who are part of obstetric America realize that "that" kind of birth isn't what they want.  

Congrats to this mom on her lovely home water birth.  May we all have beautiful births like this.

Enjoy-

C's Home Waterbirth

This was my first pregnancy. My “guess date” was Monday, Sept 19. I had a wedding of a close friend to attend Sept 17 and joked at the party to everyone that 'Peanut' & I had had a discussion and that he/she was going to arrive the next day. I had seen my MW, Lisa, on Friday, Sept 16 and had had my membranes stripped. 

I was currently the chief resident in charge of the gynecology service at a busy inner-city hospital and we had a busy week planned – a week full of long surgeries and although I had prided myself on plowing through 60-80hr work weeks with nary a complaint, the thought of doing another week was almost more than I could handle. We made an appointment for her to come back on Sunday to restrip them again.

At the wedding I did dance a lot, which caused some non-laborish contractions but otherwise nothing to get excited about.

We had a late night and I didn't sleep all that well. I woke up at 6am with contractions that were uncomfortable but not really painful. I had watery bloody discharge in a fairly large amount and was concerned my water was broken. I was timing contractions at this time and when I had woken up they were about 5-6min apart. I gave up laying in bed about 7am and got up, sitting on an exercise ball, moving my hips during contractions. The contractions persisted and about 8am I decided to call Lisa and let her know that I had somehow managed to make an appointment for my labor! LOL 

She thought I was just having bloody show and was not ruptured. About 9a I went to pee and there was just more of the discharge than I wanted to clean up, so I decided to get in the shower. The shower was really relaxing and made the contractions seem less intense but still frequent. However, once I got out they became more intense and required more attention. I could no longer sit on the exercise ball during a contraction so I went to kneeling on the floor and leaning over the exercise ball which worked great. Although they hurt more, I still felt in control. I was able to snack on some fruit here and there – luckily I thought to eat a substantial breakfast right when I got up before things got intense – my mom kept me supplied in cut up fruit and water.

Lisa arrived at 11:30a and I asked to be checked – I was 4-5cm, 100% effaced and -1 station! Progress!! Things continued to progress and I asked if we could get the birth pool set up. While they were doing so I got back in the shower for relaxation purposes and had a smaller exercise ball that fit in the tub with me!! Between contractions I'd sit on the ball and during them I'd either be standing with the water running over my belly or bent over with it running over my back. I stayed in there until I started to run out of hot water. 

Once I got out of the shower, the contractions took on a whole new personality. I then realized I'd have to wait for the birth pool as I'd used up the hot water. However, totally worth it, so I thought at the time.

I came back downstairs and went back to kneeling over the exercise ball. And I think this is where I hit transition – they suddenly got much less manageable, and I was vocalizing through them now. Lisa showed DH how to push on my hips and massage my lower back with some oil she had – they also lightly massaged my shoulders and upper arms, and this was awesome for a while. I think relaxing through this kicked me over into transition and when the birth pool was ready, so was I!

I had two crippling contractions walking up the stairs, then Lisa insisted I try to void before getting in the pool, so I did and had another crippling contraction on the toilet. After that was over I wasted NO TIME and stripped off all of my clothes and basically fell into that pool, which felt AWESOME.

And I credit that awesome pool with helping me to relax that last little bit and take me into the final stretch of transition, because then things became Unmanageable. I'll be honest, I kind of lost it. I vocalized through some, swore through others, and pleaded/cried through the rest. A few I swear I had an out-of-body experience that made me stare at a spot on the wall and I think I believed that I was, in fact, dying. I did get rechecked at 2pm and was 7cm and now +1 station! Progress!

I thought 2 hrs had passed and asked to be checked again – I told Lisa that I needed to KNOW that I was progressing with contractions like this – Lisa said if I really wanted to, ok, but she needed me to get out of the pool to really get a good check, though. I reluctantly got out and laid on my bed on my side. 8cm. “GODDAMN IT, LISA, THAT'S IT?!?!”

I wanted her to tell me I was complete.

“Uh, Rebecca, it's only been 45 minutes – you've made great progress in that amount of time.”

Forty-five minutes?!?! It felt like ten years.

I cried through a contraction on the bed and got the hell out of there and back into the pool, where I continued to have contractions. I won't lie – it wasn't pretty. I asked for people to kill me, and when DH joked “ok,” I punched him. Twice. I begged for an epidural, and I'll be honest, the only thing that kept me from going to get one was the thought of going anywhere to get it. If I had been in a hospital, I TOTALLY would have caved. And regretted it later. Yet another reason I'm glad I had a HB.

I want to take a moment to give my mother a little credit, too. She is a retired hospital-based midwife and was my doula through the ordeal and was a great source of support. I spent a lot of transition alternating between clinging to her and DH. I remember at one point begging her to help me, and she told me “No one can do this for you, honey. This is your mountain to climb. And you are.”

Not long after that the contractions changed – they seemed to develop a downward force and I was feeling a lot of pressure in my bottom. I voiced this and shortly after Lisa appeared having changed into scrubs and I saw her lay out 3 crocheted baby hats. “Welcome to the second stage, Rebecca.”

More beautiful words were never said. I pushed some with a few contractions and was pissed she couldn't see the head yet. She knotted a sheet and I played tug-of-war with DH and felt even MORE pressure. I was still upset she couldn't see the head (I mean, GOSH, I had worked hard for like, 3 whole contractions!) she checked and told me to reach down and feel his head – it was only a short ways in, in OB-speak we would have called it +2-3 station.

And I decided I was done with this labor thing. This child was going to come out, and SOON. The next contraction I pushed hard and felt him crowning. Definitely the 'ring of fire' burning sensation everyone talks about. The next contraction I was ready to suck it up and then pushed through that, and his head was out. Evidently the shoulders came out with the head, but I just felt that he was still there. 

I felt a little panicked, worried that I still had the shoulders in and had a shoulder dystocia. I guess I was just expecting to have the baby pulled out the rest of the way, the way we do in the OB-world. But they were just waiting for another push from me. So I did, and then he was here.

They passed a wet, slippery baby up to me, and I pulled him up to my chest and sat back. He didn't cry, but was breathing fine and pinked up well! I remember looking up at my team around me, almost in disbelief, saying “Oh my God, I did it. He's here, I did it.”

It was 4:08pm. Not only did I do it, I had done it in only 10hrs, with only 25 minutes of that pushing!

I was reminded to look down and see what we had – and it was indeed a boy! We didn't know the gender beforehand, but I had trouble seeing the baby as a girl – although I would have been fine with either. 

His APGARs were 9 & 10! After a few minutes I felt another contraction and pushed for the placenta. Then his cord was finally clamped and DH got to cut it :). I eventually got out of the pool and the damage was assessed – only a few minor tears, just a couple of stitches for cosmetic reasons more than anything else, and we were good to go! 

I was helped into a quick shower and then tucked into bed. During the shower DH had done skin-to-skin time with the baby, and now it was time for the full newborn assessment – it was cool that DH got to weigh him, and he weighed in at a startling 9 lbs 5 oz!!

The recovery so far has been great! I have some discomfort down below and I feel a little worn out, but no big deal. So far breastfeeding is going great, and little Caden is thriving. So far he's very laid-back, only seems to cry if he needs something. I like to attribute his chill attitude with being born into water into loving hands, and not spending his first moments being suctioned, rubbed and then tag & branded like cattle by strangers. I love that he doesn't have a single drug in his little body and take pride that I was able to provide that for him.

And I especially love that I was able to birth my beautiful boy without interventions and can focus more on learning to be a mother than on making it through my own recovery. I'm so glad my spine remains unviolated by an epidural and my bottom wasn't victim to an episiotomy. I have no hemorrhoids from pushing because I was able to push from an advantageous position and have every push be an effective one. Many hospitals would have stuck my poor baby every hour for a blood sugar value due to his size, even though I had good prenatal care and tested negative for gestational diabetes.

The best part was DH & I spending our first night together with our LO snuggled in our own bed uninterrupted by vital signs and other hospital protocol.

Many of my co-workers were shocked when they found out I delivered at home, but overall I have been pleasantly surprised by most people's reactions – what can anyone say when we had such a wonderful outcome? I tell them I didn't expect anyone to understand, so I lied to avoid the unproductive discussions (I had told all of them I was delivering w/my GYN at a nearby hospital). 

I'm sure that I've been the talk of the residency program for the last week, but I don't care. In fact, a lot of stories have been pretty hilarious!! I have told my coworkers that have visited that it's a choice I would definitely make again, and it was worth every penny I spent on it!

I remember at my first Hypnobirthing class, 15wks pregnant, and my instructor asked every couple to share what they hoped to gain from taking her class. I said, “Well, I really don't want a c-section, and I really want my birth to be a satisfying experience.”

I'm so happy to be able to say that it was.

~~~~~~~~

(I have since done an interview with this mama and you can find it here!)

Extreme Parenting- When Being An Attached Mama Makes You Crazy

Every once in a while I hear about a mother struggling to be the perfect "attached parent" and feeling like she is failing miserably.

I don't know exactly what attachment parenting means to you, in fact, I am not sure what it means to me.  But I do think that many of us feel like failures if we haven't checked off a million things on our "perfect attached  mom" list.  I hear women expressing guilt over the fact that they don't :

-cloth diaper

-nurse two kids

-nurse past a year

-co-sleep

-do crafts

or are feeling overwhelmed and not good enough because they do:

-use a stroller

-use a pacifier

-use any type of infant care device  (bouncer, Bumbo, swing, etc)

- let a baby cry for any reason

I am in no position to give advice on parenting.  I am not being modest when I say that, I really am in NO position to give advice.

You should meet my two year old.

Despite that, I am going to say something.

Parenting is not about check-marks on a list.  It isn't about looking good on some parenting forum or Facebook group.  But it is about balance.

Finding that balance is very difficult though, isn't it?

It makes me sad when I hear moms saying they were so overwhelmed with trying to be the perfect parent that they actually decided not to be stay at home moms anymore.  I don't think the point of all that parenting advice is to make us feel like running away because we couldn't do it "well enough".  I think the point is to help us be the best we can be.  That isn't exactly the same for everybody though, is it? 

For me that means finding the balance between giving up what I need to of MY needs so that my children can be well-rounded, good, and happy without giving up SO MUCH that I am miserable and start to negatively impact them and their development.


If part of that balance is putting a baby in a swing every day so that I can make dinner, then that is fine with me.  If that means that I use my stroller everyday so that I can exercise, breathe fresh air, and feel good about my body, that is great too.  If it means that co-sleeping is not working for our family, then that works for me too.


I don't know what that balance is for you but I hope that you can find it and find peace and joy in motherhood.  One thing I do think I know is this-  Motherhood is meant to be a joy for us and our children.  It is meant to be the most important thing we do, but not the only thing.


And we don't do crafts in my house.  Because I hate them and they are messy.

Born Into Daddy's Hands- Birth Story

 This is such a glorious way to welcome a new baby- with just the people that helped create him.  An amazing accidental unassisted birth with the midwife on her way.  This is a must read-

Enjoy!

The (accidental, unassisted) planned homebirth of Tyler! 

Everyone knows I'm pretty obsessed with all things pregnancy and birth. It led me on my path to becoming a doula and has resulted in me meeting some of the most amazing, interesting women who have shared my passion, increased my yearning for knowledge, and empowered me as a woman and a mother. 

So, why do I need to start this story with that? It's taken me a while to really process what happened that day, and I'm sure that Tyler's birth happened the way it happened because I've been lucky enough to learn so much about birth... 

Or maybe just because precipitous 2nd/3rd labours run in the family :)

When I was five months pregnant, we moved from the UK to Maryland in the US.  Lucky for me, through the power of the internet, I was informed of a couple of midwives who would be prepared to come to a home birth and I arranged to meet with them as soon as we arrived in the US.   I was so nervous about what to expect and went to 'interview' my potential midwives with a list of "please don't do these things to me". 

I could feel myself physically and emotionally relax as I went through my list and the midwife looked at me, smiled and said, "well, of course we won't do that".  Before I knew it, my prenatal care and home birth plan were sorted and I could focus on the enormity of moving to a foreign country rather than stressing about hospital birth and unsympathetic doctors!

My experience with the midwives and their assistants was like nothing I had ever come across in the UK. They made every appointment seem special. They never rushed anything, they were always willing to discuss anything and everything, and they all seemed genuinely excited as the weeks ticked by and December approached. I had a great pregnancy and felt at peace and excited as well as I waited for my Mum & Dad to arrive, praying that the baby would wait too!

My first son was born ten days 'late' on December 19th 2008. By my estimations I reckoned he was due around the 16th, but being a first-time Mum and not appreciating how much importance was placed on that date, I never argued with the midwives when they selected the date based on the 12 week ultrasound.  It was only when we reached that date that I realised what a mistake that had been.  

Although willing to listen to my requests for no mention of sweeps or induction, I began to get pressured into agreeing to growth scans and was told that I only had two weeks and then my home birth request would not be granted.  Two weeks took me to Christmas Eve, which I'm sure helped them decide to go off call for me :)  Luckily for me, I went into labour on the 19th.

This time round I decided I wouldn't take too much notice of the 'due date'.  I didn't tell many people what the date was, I had just decided that my baby would most likely be born in mid-December. Officially the UK date was set (via ultrasound) to December 10th; unofficially by my estimations I put myself closer to the 14th, and this is what my brilliant midwives agreed to.

In the week before Tyler was born. I was very uncomfortable in my ribs and woke up a lot at night. I didn't want to believe something might be happening, because I knew how impatient I had become with my first! I also wanted to relish in the simplicity of our life as a family of three. More and more I was beginning to remember how much of a life change having my first son was, and I just wanted to hold on to our life of peaceful evenings and family dinners for a little bit longer!

On December 9th I woke up feeling crampy. With my first I had thought I was in labour two days before he was born which turned into nothing so I wasn't going to get excited this time round. We decided to go to downtown for the morning and by the time we got home, I was more convinced that things were happening although I wasn't in any pain.  

The cramping feeling started to feel more contraction-like around mid-afternoon but it still wasn't painful and I knew this kind of feeling could last for hours or days so at 6pm we went to the local Italian for dinner.  I'd told my husband contractions were every ten minutes or so and got him to download an app on his IPhone as I was starting to get curious about the timings. We looked at the readings around half an hour later… 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes… oh, maybe something was definitely happening!  We came home and my Dad went to bed, his parting words "this baby isn't coming tonight".  

I went upstairs to kiss my son goodnight and told him that when he woke up, his baby brother might have arrived. He was very excited!  I took out my gifts from my Glasgow Blessingway, my bracelet and labyrinth and crystals and lit the candle a good friend had given me.  I got in the bath around 9.30pm. The contractions were the same but I just felt like having a break and knew this early on that they would most likely stop. 

I was OK with that, I just really wanted a bath!  As anticipated, everything stopped. I got out and sent a message to the midwives to tell them that things were progressing but I still had a way to go so I was going to bed to rest. Off I went at 10.30pm.

I woke up at 11.15pm.  The contractions were stronger now and I was having to breathe through them. They were still erratic though, varying from 6-8 minutes, never any shorter.  My husband wanted to phone the midwives but I was sure it was too soon.  We were lying in bed, me on all fours, breathing into the pillow each time a contraction came.  I held my husbands' hand.  He stroked my back.  Then I cried.  I remember thinking "I've got hours to go, how can I do this?" (ummmm, hello transition!).  It hurt but the gap between contractions made it OK.  My first labour had been ten hours of unrelenting back labour, with wave upon wave of contractions. This was so different.

Just after midnight a pretty painful contraction hit.  My husband insisted on calling the midwife on call even though I was still unsure. She said she would come over and would be about 45 minutes.

A couple of minutes later, another big contraction came and POP went my waters!  I ran to the bathroom, shouting at my husband "My waters just broke! Wake up my Mum!". 

The next part is a blur. I was sat on the toilet and felt this incredible urge to push.  I got off the toilet and squatted by the sink, moaning and panting, trying desperately not to have this baby.  My husband was putting the futon mattress down on the floor in the bedroom (nothing like being prepared in case of a quick labour!), my Mum was next to me saying "don't push, don't push", I put my hand down and I could feel the top of the baby's head poking out. 

I held onto it (haha, what a sight!) and waddled to the mattress and kneeled with my head on the bed.  Another contraction came and I couldn't stop it, I thought I was going to be sick, but out came the head instead.  There was no pain at this point, that had stopped as soon as my waters broke.  I felt so calm, so in control, I could feel everything.  

My husband looked down to see if he could see anything and said "the head's out!", whoops, seemed I'd forgotten to mention that!  The next couple of minutes were incredible.  I felt a movement and shouted at my husband to stop touching the baby! "I'm not!" he said.  Then again, another movement - "DON'T touch him!", "I'm not!!". 

A few seconds later, and out came Tyler, into his daddy's hands, 12.48am - maybe twenty minutes since my waters broke.  He had been moving himself, rotating his shoulders and turning in the birth canal, and I felt every single part of that journey.  My husband passed him to me, through my legs, and I held him to my chest.  My perfect baby.  My perfect birth.

The placenta came away very quickly, maybe 5-10 minutes later, and Tyler was already breastfeeding when the midwife turned up five minutes later.  I couldn't stop apologising, I was so sad that after all these months they had missed out on the birth! 

My midwife just looked at me and said, "this birth happened exactly as it was meant to".  I know she was right and I am so grateful they were there just after Tyler was born, to check him and to check me, and that they were there on the phone with my husband, telling him what to do.  Their help and support and aftercare were invaluable and I love them :)

My dad was downstairs waiting for the midwife when he heard the cries of a newborn baby :)

My oldest son slept through the whole thing…

A Screaming Two Year Old and a Christmas Miracle

I was going to do this wonderfully smug post about how much I really enjoy staying home with my kids and how I don't put them into daycare or anything until they start kindergarten.  It was my self- righteousness at its absolute best.

You would have loved it.  If you agreed with me, that is.

But then I had this day.  And now, I totally understand why they invented day-care and why stay at home mom's use them.  They invented them for my two year old.

You know, I never really understood the whole "terrible two's" thing that everybody is always talking about.  My first two children were really quite delightful at two.  They were gaining verbal skills, independence, personality and other endearing things.  Like they stopped going in their pants.

Ahh....lovely.

That must be why I had my third child.  She embodies the type of two year olds that people speak of.

Sometimes I wonder if her head is going to start spinning around in true "Exorcist" style.  So far, it hasn't happened, though she does shriek like she is possessed anytime I try to tell her to do anything, help her, suggest anything, try to wipe her bottom, etc, etc, etc.

Today the planets aligned for some truly perfect two year old moments.

My husband was south with our only car and so I set off to pick up my son at school on foot.  I actually like walking and I have a lovely stroller that my two little ones go in.

I step out the door and realize.....OH NO!  The stroller is still in the car!  I forgot to get it out.

That's OK.  I can do this!  I can!

I have inappropriate confidence issues, obviously.

So I strap the baby into a woven front carrier, I attempt to hold the two year old's hand, and my four year old's hand.  And we set off- on the one mile walk to my son's school.

She hates holding hands.  My two year old hates holding hands.  Not only did they invent day care for her, I think that child leash inventor invented THAT for her.  What kid hates holding mom's hand?!

In order to prevent massive casualties on the streets of my hometown I offer....the piggy-back.

We actually make much better time with her on my back.  Of course the baby is on my front, and I am now actually weighing more with these two kids strapped to me than I did at the end of my pregnancy.

The up side is I am most likely burning lots of calories.  The downside is that my mood is deteriorating as we get closer to the school.  Plus- the trip takes about twice as long, making me the hated....last mother at pick up.

Then the return trip.  Did I mention that the trip there is down hill?  That means the trip home is.......yeah.  Uphill.

Little one was not cooperating.  She screams.  She runs.  She tries to break into an abandoned tenement that surely houses some local vagrants.  Luckily she is one of the most non-judgmental people I have ever met so I am sure she will like the homeless as much as she likes me. 

Eventually I convince her to get back on my back again.  She relents, but finds it much more fun to wave her arms around rather than hold on.

Just as I am feeling quite the meanie head, a miracle occurs.  I am near tears.  I see salvation walking towards me.  A friend and neighbor has seen me and stopped to see if we needed a ride.  She is an answer to a prayer that I was too frustrated to utter.

Why the universe looks out for me when I am at my most bitter and cold, I will never understand.

Another miracle occurs.  My mom calls.  "Where are you?  Do you need a ride?"  My friend has picked up the kids (and she had car seats!) and my mom comes to pick me up.

We are home.  We even lucked out of the biggest hill.

What a magical end to a long walk.

There was one other thing though.  I arrive at home to find that.....the stroller was there all along.  Being sure that it was in the car, I never thought to check the shed.  My husband had thought ahead and made sure to take it out of the car and place it there for me before he left.

Note to self-
1)  Somebody up above loves you.
2)  But you should still always check the shed for the stroller.  Stop making assumptions mama!

My spunky two year old- I still love her.  And I am glad I have her.  She reminds me how much I still need to learn and how much you can love the difficult things in life.