Breastfeeding- A Dance

We often hear about the benefits of breastfeeding and studies that support this or that. With the advent of the perfect parent, via invisible online communities like Facebook, we often hear mothers fighting about, getting defensive about, and even mean about the benefits, effort, or ability to breastfeed.

But to me, breastfeeding, or nursing, or feeding on cue, is so much more than something that can be proven with a study. It is more than live food, let down, proper latch or attachment parenting. It is the first intricate and beautiful dance between a mother and her baby.

Nursing your infant is the continuation of the birth process. I like to think of birth as a dance. You need to learn it's moves. You need to listen to it and your body. You need to work with and move with it. If you choose to fight birth and the powerful sensations that accompany it, birth will be quick to step on your toes. No, for birth to go well you don't just need a little luck, you need to learn to listen to it and learn what it is trying to teach you without words, just as you need to feel the music and your partner and the mood as you learn to dance.

With the end of birth the baby enters the world. The first person he touches of course is mother, because that is where he just emerged. The continuation of the natural birth process is for mother to lift the baby onto her chest soon after and nuzzle, cuddle, love and nurse her new baby. If all has gone well and the environment is peaceful and supportive, this may begin naturally. Both mother and baby are geared to begin this new and first step in their relationship where they are still close, but are no longer sharing the same body.

How are they prepared by nature for this first step together? Mother's body has changed to prepare in particular for the nursing relationship. Her breasts have gotten bigger, her aureoles darker and the golden drops of colostrum have been prepared within. The baby is born without the ability to walk, talk, or function independent of mother. There is very little that the newborn can do alone. But he can eat. Divine creation or natural selection or both have ensured that this baby instinctively roots. He will turn toward food. He will instinctively suck.

Now, maybe it sounds like with all this natural predisposition towards breastfeeding that nursing will be smooth sailing. Obviously this is not always so. Many suspect that some problems in the nursing relationship can be traced back to unnatural aspects of modern birth like medications or mother/baby separation. This makes sense to me on many levels as those things are obviously an interruption to the natural process.

But even with the most natural home birth or the most medical and intervention riddled modern birth, nursing can be a challenge. There are literally thousands of things that can go wrong, from physical problems to emotional ones and everything in between.

No matter how your birth goes, nursing is often a learned art, not just for the mother, but for the baby also.

Have you ever seen a new mother interact with a brand new baby? Have you ever been that mother? There is so much more involved here than just food. This first dance is a chance for mother and baby to get to know each other. They learn from each other. They teach one another how to do this. It is a complicated and beautiful flow of intuition, reflexes, learning, pain, and love. It is one of the first things that teaches us how to mother.

First we must learn baby's cues. What does he do when he is hungry? Does he turn his head? Suck on his fingers? Does he start to smack his lips together?

Then, how does he like to be held? How can we fit what has become a gigantic breast into this tiny little mouth? Mama must learn how to feed the baby and the baby must learn too.

Babe must learn to open his mouth and stick out his tongue. He must suck and wait for the milk to come. He must learn how to get your attention. Mother must often teach baby how to do this properly so that mama doesn't end up hurt in the process.

We often think of the first few days and weeks of nursing as painful and a struggle. Indeed they can be, but it is so much more than that. It is more than learning proper latch and tongue position. It is more than cradle verses football hold. It is patience. It is persistence. It is struggle sometimes and even pain- but the struggle and the pain, when they end in success, make the nursing relationship that much more enjoyable, bonding, and powerful.

Nursing your baby is one of natures ways to teach us how to love our babies. When literal breastfeeding is impossible, we can still nurse our babies. We can hold them when we feed them, love them, look at them and enjoy them and feed them when they are hungry but before they are screaming without even having breasts.

I love that you can get into a rhythm with your baby. How amazing that a young mother can awake in the middle of the night for no reason, only to have her baby rouse and turn and search for her in hunger a few moments later? How priceless is the sensation of letdown when a baby is asleep, only to have him awake hungry within minutes? Few things can give a new mom more confidence and joy than knowing that she and her baby are finally working together in perfect harmony to grow and teach one another.

I hope that all women who are able can find joy in the journey, the learning, and the dance that is the nursing relationship. It is worth any missteps and stubbed toes along the way. Breastfeeding can be a beautiful dance between mother and baby.

Finding Joy In the Post-Baby Chubb

My post-partum body brings out all my worst body issues. Truth is I like to be skinny. I really like it. My excuse for obsessing about this is that since I don't have money or time for nice clothes, fancy hair, or getting my eyebrows tweezed it is fine to allow myself the vanity of worrying about my shape.

Still, I know I should not be so vain. I should find some joy in that soft, curvy and yes, bumpy and scarred, body that my pregnancies have given me. In that light, here are some things I find wonderful about the chubby side of having babies.

~I realized when I was cuddling and nursing and sleeping with my first little one that babies don't mind a soft mama. In fact, I think they prefer it. Maybe being lean and hard looks better on a billboard, but babies like a warm, cuddly, padded place to cuddle up. And no baby ever thought that their mama was fat. No, they like us just fine the way we are.

~I vividly remember my favorite line from 30 Rock. Alec Baldwin touching a mature woman's breast and telling her it felt like a half empty bag of cream of mushroom soup. Seriously- that still makes me laugh out loud. Maybe I should be insulted that somebody said on television what those of us who have had the audacity to birth/breastfeed/or simply grow older already knew about the feel of our breasts. Maybe I should be embarrassed that the secret is out! No more hiding behind a $75 bra- oh no! The truth is out- the twins do not hold themselves up anymore. Gravity wins- again. But it doesn't make me mad at all. In fact, I am just glad to know that I am not the only one. This happens to everybody. Oh yes sisters, we are in this one together.

~Watching what having four children, gaining and losing about 180 pounds in the last six years, has done to my once 20 year old body, has given me some more understanding. Yes, I am in need of constant reminders to be more humble. And this time, I am starting to understand, just a little, why the tummy tuck was invented. So- if you have embraced plastics, I don't think I will join you (I actually have a strong aversion to abdominal surgery) but I get you. Still, we might not be able to be friends any more because your stomach will look better than mine. It might be worth it to you though...

~I have started exercising. I started after the birth of my first child. It was always something that I knew in theory was good for me. But honestly, I looked fine without it before I had kids, so, why bother? But now I exercise. Regularly, hard and with a mission. The gift of a healthy lifestyle and being active is one that I am so grateful to be able to give to my kids and something I probably never would have discovered if I was one of those women who gained 15 pounds when she got pregnant and wore her skinny jeans out of the hospital. (I am still faintly jealous of her though, but that is a separate issue altogether.)

~Continuing on that theme, I just started running again this week. My kids are ages 6, 4, 2 and newborn. When I got up this week to head out everybody was clamoring to come with me. "Wait for me mom! Don't leave!" I have to admit that it makes me feel pretty good that they still think spending time with me is awesome. I doubt that in 10 years they will all want to spend their days surrounded by mama. But right now they do, it it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Better in fact than that stomach I had way back when that was stretch mark free.

~This sounds contradictory, but another thing that is awesome about being chubby and starting to exercise is the time ALONE it gives me. My morning runs are so nice sometimes too when the kids ARE NOT there. When I am alone or with a friend, well, sometimes it is the only time I have with my thoughts or with another female all day long. That too is something I enjoy because of these children I have borne.

~This morning my son said, "You're not fat mama! You just had a baby!" Thanks honey. I love kids. Maybe I should listen to them a little more often.

So ladies, lets remember, to them, our children, we are not fat or skinny or short or tall, we are just - mama.

Mom: The Resume

Mama Birth
1114 Crazy Town
Phone 808-974-1111

Skills:
Multitasking, conflict resolution, planning, healing, feeding, negotiation, recreation, toddler wrestling

Past Work Experience:
-Cleaning poop off of glitter shoes without removing glitter
-Washing sheets thrice weekly without nervous breakdown
-Kept four kids alive for the past 6 years
-Successfully removed blackberry stains from brand new birthday shirt (no yelling involved)

Items of note:
-Once made a return at Walmart with four kids, no cart, no yelling AND no security called (all involved survived the ordeal)
-Capable of going long periods of time with little or no food and while foregoing bathroom breaks.
-Also important to note, when a bathroom break is afforded, capable of taking said break with child in lap and three others "watching" while negotiating hostile takeover attempt by 6 year old brother directed at 4 year old sister.

Applicable extra experience:
-Can feed large groups with mostly food storage, foraged food, and gardened food.
-Performs well under extreme pressure (read, 9+pounds of pressure barreling down internal "parts")
-Mind reading
-High pressure sales
-Not fearful of large amounts of blood- self or others
-Can touch bodily fluids or wear clothes for long periods of time which are covered in vomit/feces/urine etc.

Position desired:

-Non-profit
-Character Building
-Long term position (read=forever)
-Looks of horror/amazement optional, but not required
-Time off= rarely needed (will accept a good book or lonely potty break as vacation)

A Hospital VBAC--Faintly Violet: Fragments of a birth

Such amazing birth stories lately! I love this one. The way everything is mixed up is so much how labor happens in my mind. A little here, a little there, some forgotten, some vivid, all combining to make for a baby and a birth and a new family. Enjoy!

This is the birth story I wrote of my second daughter now 18month old. It's very long, and I'm a little nervous about sharing it with the wider world, but at the same time it was such a vividly beautiful experience. My first was a traumatic caesarean, a 27 weeker microprem, we didn't have much choice in her birth, so my second birth I was fiercely passionately driven for a VBAC. I went through our local birth centre (beautiful beautiful women who always greeted me with a smile) but because I was a VBAC we had to use the hospital delivery suite rooms.
My midwife was Natasha.
Alison is a dear friend who agreed to be my birth partner
Talia is the now almost 4 year old big sister (a little over 2 years corrected at the birth)
And Mark is my dear love.

I do apologise for the complete lack of continuity. Somehow I couldn't bind my birth story to a consecutive ordering of events, my first attempt at that just drained away the sense of beauty and wonder my heart was singing from the birth experience. I still marvel that I was at my most powerful and my most vulnerable at the same time.
So here it is.

Faintly Violet: Fragments of a birth

I've been working on the full story in parts, but there's so much of it. So here's a collection of whimsical fragments, tinged faintly violet, just like my laundry I'd managed to leave in the machine the night before her birth with a purple skirt so the dye ran. Somehow discovering my laundry had been dyed faintly Violet was so appropriate after her birth, it still makes me laugh
A very random order of moments.

I was coherent and 'with it' the entire birth. I was blissful and sedate and actively conscious, that conscious awareness and resonance with self and surrounds and company. There was a moment in the bath where I asked Alison to take a photo of me because I'd been hit by this wave of sudden joy, I was just incredibly happy all the way through; I was really giving birth, exactly how I wanted to, with the people I most wanted there with me, so vividly conscious and joyous. The photo isn't great, but I'm so glad that moment was captured, that bliss, so I'll never forget it.

It was so comfy kneeling on the couch leaning against the back of the couch, moaning through if the contraction ached, focusing inwards then coming back out to continue pottering around getting things ready for Talia's day.

I stayed in bed as long as I could through the morning. Contractions had been getting regular from around 2am, though I made a point of not watching the clock. They started getting more intense, yet still I put off calling Natasha, hoping to wait for a more reasonable hour. 5am, or maybe it was 5:30 an intense contraction hit and I knew there was no denying that this was labour and it was time to call Tash. Several rings and eventually she picked up, I started with apologising for waking her, funny the space you enter in labour.

Given the number of things we needed to mess around with before we could leave we arranged to meet at the hospital around 7-7:30 ish, she said she'd be there from 6:30 anyway. Cue calling Alison (birth partner), my mum (looking after Talia that night), Rosie (girl from work to take Tali in to care) and Wendy (my boss, to warn her that Tali would be in the extra day). Then the insanity of attempting to eat breakfast, pack Tali's bag for the day and night, get Tali's dress ready for photo day, sort out her breakfast for Rosie to help her with, interspersed with regular contractions I had to stop for... eventually we got out of the house.

We collected Alison from her house, and she came out with a beautiful stem with three pale pink roses on it, one barely a bud, one in its prime, and another just getting that touch too open and past its best. She'd been hunting around the garden for something to contribute and was just giving up hope when she spied that poetically evocative trio. After the birth we hung the flowers on a mobile in our room to help them dry. We forgot to take them home, but the midwives rescued them for us and took them to one of my follow up appointments. They're now on my labour altar where I light candles for mamas I love as they're giving birth .

As we walked into Delivery Suite one of their midwives said to Natasha in a joking voice "All babies out by 2, 'kay Tash?" I replied, "We'll give it a go. Do I get to use the bath?" Violet was born at 2:30pm, in the bath.

Mum brought Talia in to meet her new baby sister. We were all snuggled down on the bed, a lovely big double bed with a wooden frame, so earthy and home-like. Violet was next to me, maybe she was nursing, it's a little hazy now. I got to give Talia a big cuddle and introduce her to baby Violet, that baby Pip came out of mummy's tummy and here she is as baby Violet. Talia was in utter wonderment, gazing at our new baby speaking barely above a whisper saying "Tiiiiny. Baby tiiiiny. Baby Bi-let tiiiiny." I asked Tali if she'd like some mum milk, and it was so nice to snuggle my big girl against my breast in that beautiful space of love.

After coming back from the toilet Alison suggested we try a different position or place as I'd been on the bed all morning (not flat on my back, curled up comfy and relaxed, the back of the bed quite upright so I was more lounging than anything else. Besides, the bed was dodgy and the end section at my feet would slide away if I pushed on it much at all with my feet). There was something luxurious in how I was indulging in my birth, I had this beautiful satin dressing gown that came to mid-thigh on. I didn't need anything else and that was easy access whilst being a long way from anything resembling a hospital gown.

There's something delicious about lounging back in a satin slip, eating grapes in this beautiful peaceful loving heartspace surrounded by two of my favourite people in the world. So I got onto the birthing mat set up next to a lounge chair, on my knees, leaning against the arm of the chair. Mark sat in the chair cooing to me and letting me grip his arm if I needed it whilst Alison set up behind me to give me a lovely gentle back massage, ylang ylang scented oil and her beautiful soft hands caressing my back.

When we'd been in the room about an hour getting some of our stuff sorted out, I wasn't quite convinced that we were having this baby today. I asked Natasha if she was going to check me and she was happy to. 2 days before I'd been completely closed and not effaced at all. Funny how you can convince yourself that you're probably not properly in labour and these regular contractions could well continue for the next three days. So she checked me and said "Well you're 3cm and fully effaced" I was completely caught by surprise and said, "You WHAT?!?!" That convinced me I was actually in labour.

There was this beautiful focused peaceful time whilst in the bath, I was on all fours in this huge bath, facing the corner so Natasha could actually keep track of where we were at. I could hear the others in the room (only Mark in the bath with me, Natasha, Alison, and another midwife to act as a secondary witness for Natasha to confirm that yes, there was no way they were getting continuous monitoring on me at that stage, but the hb was fine right through so this wasn't an unprofessional decision, though I didn't find that part out until a few days later), but my world became this one corner of white ceramic bath, the tiles, DH's arm and a towel. And the water. The clear gentle warm water. Facing the water as I was small details became so clear; a blob of green blue goo from the doppler (Natasha managed to accidentally dunk the first doppler, she wasn't used to a bath that big, the one in the birth centre is smaller), a small string of blood, my necklace hanging down, the occasional fleck of poo (really didn't bother me, I fully trusted the people I was with, it wasn't an issue for me or them).

But what really intensely rang true for me were the ripples in the surface of the water as I breathed. Sometimes they were deep runnels, others just light fluttery rhythmical patterns. Those ripples in the water were a phenomenal focus of my energy, a point to concentrate on for my breath. Many women who have gas in their birth, even on a minimal setting, think it's doing nothing until after they've pushed it away. Personally I think the gas on that minimal setting must work partially as a placebo, but more than that it becomes a point of focus for breath. By watching those ripples in the water I was focusing my breath energy, little breaths so I wouldn't push too hard too fast, deeper breaths when it was getting tiring, holding my breath to contain and use that energy within (I couldn't push whilst exhaling, it let too much of the energy out when I needed to hold it).

I was on the bed in the room, lying on my side, grapes on the table, caressing the birth sculpture Mark had carved. I loved the smell of it, the feel of soft, perfectly sanded wood rubbing gently against my nose and mouth. I'd grip DH's arm through contractions, and sometimes he'd grip mine back which agitated me slightly because I was bruisy from the failed canula/IV line, but pushing him away would have felt like kicking a puppy, he was doing his best to help, and having him there and knowing I could grip his arm as tightly as I needed to was comforting. At one point I needed to hold his arm to my mouth, to just barely press my teeth against his skin because of the depth of the pain. He knew I just needed that touch, that I wasn't actually going to bite him, and even if I had he would have been fine with it. He gave the insight later that he knew I needed that oral stimulation to centre myself, it wasn't about biting, it was about comfort.

I struggled with pushing for a while, I just couldn't get it right, couldn't channel the energy right, I was starting to get frustrated but just when I needed it Natasha told me I was doing really well. Then somehow I stumbled across the energy channel of my spine. My breath needed to take the right path to work, to help me, and I needed to channel the energies the right way to push effectively. And I found that the energy only flowed right when it was channeling straight down my spine, starting in my head, down my neck and down my spine to my baby, any kink in that line and the energy would disperse too greatly and be wasted. Once I discovered that channel it all just clicked into place.

I was starting to get frustrated with pushing, that it was taking so long and felt like I wasn't moving our baby along enough. I could tell our Pip was getting lower because Natasha was finding the heartbeat lower and lower, til she was having to place the doppler barely above my pelvic bone. Our Pip started getting close to crowning, I'd push and feel them move down, then slide back. Just as I was getting frustrated Natasha again saved me with wisdom and advice, that the baby's head needed to move up and down in the birth canal to help stretch my perenium to help prevent tearing. It was good, it was normal.

I found myself entering a child-like space. I had no idea of what I was doing, I needed gentle but firm guidance. Natasha's voice was just so right. If I'd been a regular delivery suite patient I would have been getting scared at this point, but I was safe with my midwife.

At one point whilst in our delivery suite room (I was so thankful that it wasn't a room I'd bled in with Talia) I was struck by a remembered line from a book I'd read, where one woman's birth mantra had been "I'm a lean, mean, birthing machine." I mentally applied the mantra to myself and laughed inside, because I so was.

After labouring (not that it was a labour really, being massaged, loved and caressed) a while on the birth mat Natasha offered to check me again. It must've been about midday. So I got up on the bed again, she checked and I was a stretchy 5, up to a 6. It wasn't as much progress as she would have liked, but that was most likely due to the dehydration. She said we'll check again in a bit and if we haven't made more progress she might break my waters. So I asked if I could get in the shower, she agreed. I wanted to send an sms update out but got hit by a contraction so the thought was lost.

I decided to go to the toilet before getting in the shower, and whilst I was sitting there I felt this pop and gush as my waters broke. Terribly neat ;) It was at most 15 minutes after Tash had said she might break them if we didn't progress. Cheeky Pip.

It started getting a little frazzly at that point. The chair they had in the shower wasn't great so I was perched on it, Tash was struggling to get the ctg trace in the right spot, to the point where I was this close to swatting her hand away. And the shower wasn't enough, I couldn't get the water on my lower back and under my belly at the same time. Add in that I could see Mark and Alison were getting splashed (neither had brought spare clothes) and it just wasn't working right. It was going to take them at least 10-15 minutes to get the bath ready. The contractions were coming hard. I was slipping into a child-like space of needing to ask Natasha's permission to get in the bath. I can see why women are so easily bullied into monitoring, drugs and intervention at this point. Maybe that was transition.

I remember Natasha checking the O2 set up in the room to be sure it worked as we were getting close to baby time. Hearing the hiss of the gas made me think it was the pain relief variety and in my head I thought, "Ooooh don't tempt me" but I knew I didn't mean it.

Early on in the birth I asked Alison to brush my hair as I hadn't had the opportunity to that morning. There's something so loving about having someone you care about and trust brushing your hair.

I spoke to our Pip between contractions, asking my baby so gently to work with me, telling them they were doing so well and we love them so much. I loved the warmth of those murmurings, there was no anger. How could I blame my baby for the pain I was in? I was so thankful that they were there with me, giving me the birth I wanted. I loved them so much, and they had no concept of right or wrong, of choice. Who could curse such innocence? So I told my Pip just how much I loved them, that we were working together to get through this.

I touched her head, a little before she was crowning. I think I did. I tried to. I know I felt soft folds of skin within me, and then I was hit by another contraction and there wasn't another chance.
Feeling her crowning, the 'ring of fire'. It wasn't a ring of fire for me, it was a gradual pain that shifted location. I mean, it stung like crazy, but I could feel it move from my perenium up, slowly and controlled as I pushed. I was so tired and wanted to hurry up and finish this thing, so I pushed through that contraction to get the 'ring of fire' done with. Feeling that stinging moving up from my perenium, up the sides, to the top of my opening, and that was the most painful bit done with. Not so scary, not debilitating, painful, but a good pain. I heard Alison gasp a soft "oh!" of wonderment as she saw our Pip's head, that gave me such strength. The next step was hard, pushing her through enough to crest her brow. It still leaves me breathless, the thought of the strength it took to get to that step, feeling her sliding back. Pushing so hard with the next go to get that little bit further. Then I felt the lip of my perenium slip over the brow and I gasped, I'd done it. The next push should be the head. So I took a moment to breathe, steeled my will and pushed again...

And suddenly our baby was born. There was no pause with the head out before pushing the shoulders and body through, just the whole rest of our baby in a series of determined pushes. I was slightly agitated afterwards that noone had told me that the head was out, but the truth was there just wasn't a moment where it was just the head, the whole of her rocketted out. There was some slight confusion as we wrangled me rolling over to sit in the bath whilst Mark tried to manoeuvre our baby up to my chest with the cord going the wrong way, but within moments our baby was on my chest and I was almost crying with joy and pride and wonderment that I'd actually done it. It was a good few minutes before we remembered to check the sex, though I got a faint glimpse as she was being lifted up to me. She'd cried as she was lifted out of the water, but stopped within moments of being snuggled against my skin.

Holding our baby in the bath, Mark right up against me, flooded with elation, a soaked towel wrapped around our baby to protect her from any chill. There really aren't words for that moment, the sense of whole-ness. Looking at her face I knew she was more a Violet Joy than a Kaylee (our second choice name), and it was just Right.

I got a slight tear, at most 1cm long, a little above my perenium, just to one side. It could have healed on its own but there would always be a small loose flap of skin, so I got stitched up once we were back in delivery suite. Natasha thinks the tear was more from Violet's shoulder as she came out so fast, rather than the actual crowning.

They prepared a soft spot for me to sit to birth the placenta, and never once was Violet taken from my arms. I remember musing in that happy haze that maybe we should bury the placenta around mid-summer in Alison's beautiful garden (I don't have a garden I could place a treasure like that). Natasha told me to forget about midsummer and focus on the now with birthing this placenta. It was a good 15-20 minutes before the cord stopped pulsing. I attempted to offer Violet a feed, she wasn't interested just yet. I got the synctocinin (sp?) to help with the placenta, but it still took a good while to separate. Having Natasha tugging on the cord felt strange. It may have been half an hour or more before the placenta released and I was able to push it out. So easy and soft after birthing a baby :D Violet suckled a little, sort of, no rush, it'll happen when she's ready.

After a bit of a rest they helped me to my feet and I slowly shuffled back to our room. She latched on, no pain, suckling beautifully. Photos. Mark getting to cuddle Violet against his chest whilst I was being stitched up, Alison holding my hand. Alison getting a cuddle with our Violet. Doing Violet's measurements. 3.35kg of baby. Just perfect. A perfect birth, a perfect baby. And eventually me getting into a wheelchair to be wheeled down to the birth centre to recover in peace. We were up most of the night talking through the wonder of the experience, Violet snuggled exhausted between us. There was a beautiful cradle in the room, wooden frame that would rock gently, but I couldn't bear the thought of her sleeping alone after being held so close and snug for so long, her first night in the world just couldn't be spent alone. We'd forgotten to bring a muslin wrap with us, so we wrapped her in a violet sarong I'd brought as easy clothes to throw on if I'd needed to pace the halls. My bundle of perfect baby, wrapped in faintly violet cloth, a purely accidental completely unplanned happenstance.

And I adored the softness of my post-birth belly. Soft and velvety, just like her skin, perfect for resting a perfect little baby on. I was so sad to see it fade and retract, halved by 3 days, virtually gone within 8 days.

Throughout my labour and birth I was caressed, supported and comforted by the image of one candle, one candle that became the symbol of all the candles flickering for me. Corrie had described her candle as being lit on a cold, rainy morning in England. Somehow that single phrase evoked a beautiful image of a drizzly grey soft misty morning across a moor, a big old tree , the colours faded in the drizzly light, with the warmth of a vibrant strong candle flame, somehow embodying the light of dozens of candle flames burning for me.

There's so much more I could say, so many moments. Those are the richest. Oh such wonder!
It was a few hours after Violet's birth that I realised I'd managed it drug free.
Within an hour of giving birth to Violet I was up in the delivery suite room and I thought "I could so do that again, not right now, but I could definitely do that again." So maybe we will have three children. If not, then I'm sincerely tempted to offer myself as a surrogate mother, giving the gift of helping others become parents, whilst indulging in my own desire to give birth again. If I don't stop now you'll be reading all night.

Though one addition I have to add, is an insight from Mark, the concept of three births. The first is the mother birthing the baby, bringing the baby out of her body. The second is the father's birth, cutting the cord, separating the baby from the mother. And the third is the baby's birth, in finally parting with the last of that cord as it falls off a few days later, completely an independent being.

Unassisted Birth After Cesarean (Caution, This Birth Story is Hilarious)

I don't think I have ever read a birth story that made me laugh so hysterically out loud. This is so funny, so well written, and so real. I love it! Totally worth the read, not to mention a great story about how different one birth can be from the last.

Enjoy!

Charlotte’s accidental unassisted HBAC

For my first child, I went to a freestanding birth center, where my water broke first, contractions were slow to start, and I got sent home once for being in so much pain, only to be told I was just a 2. I was devastated despite knowing you could go from 2-10 really fast. I labored over 30 hours, tried every trick in the midwifery model, played the "what Would Ina May Do?" game, and decided a transfer for a mercy epidural was prudent. I had been doing deep squats, climbing stairs, walking in the Southern June heat, etc. and was delirious.

It ended in a non-emergency cesarean at hour 42 after my water broke with baby still at a -1 station the entire labor, but with me at 100% effaced and a 9. Her heart tones were great the entire labor. The midwives suspected she was honestly stuck. When she was born, sure enough--her arm and elbow had gotten into a really funky stuck position that hadn't responded to our deep squats, spinning babies, yoga positions, etc. I got to breastfeed right away in recovery. I won't say much else about recovery since this is a positive spin on things, but I did just want to note that while I was disappointed I didn't have her the way it was planned, the actual birth experience was not traumatic for me, and I felt empowered at every choice to increase intervention. I do not believe I had an "unnecesarean."

For my second baby, I knew for sure I wanted to have a HBAC since I had a non-emergency C-section and a fantastic looking scar. I did not want to be continuously monitored, put on a time clock, or be bullied into doing anything out of fear. I felt like a HBAC with competent care providers would be the safest and healthiest way to bring my baby into the world. That's why I went with a midwife who had taken on successful HBACs and was very supportive. I will say I am a 6-minute car ride from a hospital with a Level 4 NICU.

For name references, Nancy was my CPM, and her assistant is Andrea, a CPM. Mike is my husband.

I had been crying and emotionally nutty the last 2 days, before my 39-week appointment, thinking I would be pregnant forever, and getting frustrated when I tried to fold my enormous boob into my beautiful new 38HH nursing bra and it wouldn’t quite go—I was just tired of these huge boobs and cried even harder when my left one wouldn't fit into the cup, and I knew they'd get terrifyingly giant when my milk came in. Everything made me cry.

Lately I had a few issues with fasting morning sugars-they were high enough to be of concern, but not so high as to qualify me for a GD diagnosis. I went on metformin twice a day and followed a strict GD diet. My midwife and family practitioner would correspond and see me both once a week to coordinate care, as the FP is also Charlotte’s doctor. The FP also had a HBAC, so it was a great team who were both trying to do care to allow me to homebirth. We made a plan that we’d give me until the second due date (March 6) to just go ahead and have the baby on my own, but after March 6, we would need to figure out what to do about a possible induction. That would obviously change the homebirth plan completely, but I was very firm I would do what I needed to do about the health of the baby to make sure her transition was the best possible, as she might require extra monitoring for her sugar levels. My midwife was very glad to hear I didn’t shut out options and said we will just cross that bridge when needed.

Andrea checked the position of the baby to see how far down she was in the pelvis, and she was 3/5 of the way in using some sort of 5ths rule British midwives do. That means she was as far down in the canal as she could get before active labor began. I was so happy to hear this, because she was already further down than my first baby was when she was born! Being as how I was near my first due date (2/28) and her position, Nancy told me I could go ahead and pump colostrum to 1. save for the baby in case I needed to help regulate her sugar right away and 2. bring on contractions. She also asked me to get a hold of some donor breastmilk, about 20-30oz., to also help with potential baby sugar regulation if needed.

Sunday: I sent out an email to my playgroup and get some breastmilk to be delivered to me Monday morning! I pumped around noon and got 20ml of liquid gold. We went putzing around the neighborhood from 3:30-4, but not a brisk walk at all. We met my brother at the dog park to let the doggie cousins play, and then we went back to my house to hang out. Around 7 I decided I was going to make a delicious homemade stroganoff, so I did, and wolfed it down. I then realized I had been having fairly regular contractions about 8-10 minutes apart that were different from the BH but not even notable enough to call anyone about them. I remember laughing because how do you not know you're having contractions after a previous labor of like 42 hours?

Another note: I had been listening to Hypnobabies CDs, attempting to learn to hypnotize myself, but I had no idea if it was “working” or not. I finally just gave up trying to figure out if I really was hypnotizing myself and just enjoyed listening to them while trying to relax or fall asleep for about 2 weeks or so. From about 10-11 I laid on the couch and listened to some tracks.

Around 11 I went to pee and saw pink on the toilet paper and got excited because it was bloody show. I figured I probably would give birth in the next 2 days. Haha, great assumption, right? I called Nancy, who told me to take a shower and go to bed to get some rest, and my doula Julie, who said to call her whenever I needed her.

I showered and shaved my legs, something I hadn’t done since October. I also dried my hair with a round brush just passing the time. I dusted the bedroom and Mike started a load of laundry and dishes and then we went to bed.

From 1-4ish I laid in bed, listened to Hypnobabies easy first stage labor track, sipped water, peed, began to vocalize through some contractions with low moans. I don’t know what it is about the lady’s voice, but she just kept telling me that with each “pressure wave” (contraction) it was bringing me closer to meeting my baby in my beautiful birthing time (I’m telling you, they can get quite cheesy) but at that time I was all like, “Right on, this woman knows what she is talking about, so I will just listen to her tell me these things. And dammit, my uterus IS a special snowflake and knows what it is doing.”

But sometime after 4, the lady was annoying me, and so were the contractions oops! pressure waves. I decided I needed a change of location and Mike said to let him know if he needed me. I made my way to the living room and had these intense sweats and chills, so I went to lie down under my homemade buggie snuggie to watch some guilty pleasure mindless TV recorded on the DVR all geared up for future marathon sessions, and felt my water broke as soon as I was supine. So I hefted my way over to the toilet off the living room and near the kitchen and called for Mike. It is around 4:45am at this point. He comes in with the phone and laptop to start timing contractions at contraction master, and the midwife on the phone asked about baby moving around, color of the water, etc. and said she’d start heading over and she would call Andrea.

I didn’t think to call the doula yet because last labor when I felt like this and went into the birth center, I was only at 2cm. I didn’t really need help through them, and they really were just at the mildly annoying level before my water broke. She also has kids and I didn't want her to have to leave if I didn't feel like I truly needed her.

Mike starts putting up dishes and locating the hot water connection in order to fill up the tub the midwife will bring over with her, and I would just call out “s” for start contraction so we have a record to show her. I don’t think to call my doula because I thought I’d wait at least until 6:30 or so so she can sleep. Also, my first child was born 42 hours after my water broke last time, so Mike and I both ASSumed we had plenty of time to let people sleep. He calls my mom and dad to come get my 20 month-old so they’d be here when she woke up to hand her off, as we had decided we didn't want her at the birth.

5:20ish I tell Mike to start up the tub because I feel like I can get in the tub to wait for them to show up by assuming I was over 5 cm. I really wanted a water birth for the first one, and thought it would be great to have one for my second. I remembered we had some delicious, giant, cold green grapes in the fridge. Mike got me grapes, water, and cold washcloth. I felt like I was going to pass out or throw up. I couldn't stand up all the way, but felt like maybe I needed another change of location instead of the toilet, as the contractions were at least 1.5 min in length and 1 min. apart. In between, I ate those amazing grapes and sponged myself off. I also just sort of sat there and looked at my weird felted artwork I had made the previous spring. I really was just chillin' in my own zone. During each contraction I would sort of sway on the toilet and make a low, loud aaaaooooaaahh sound.

At some point I feel like I need to poop and am happy because my body had not cleared itself out like it did last time. I quickly realize, though, that either this is the biggest turd of my life, or it is the baby descending like a train through a tunnel. I figured that out when I was all like, "uuuuuUUUGHHH!" and then the feeling kept going after I was done grunting. Mike had gone to make the bath. I reach down and feel a bulge and know I had better move or the baby will be born in the toilet "I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant" style. I get the craziest urge to push and I do bear down and push hard while making this super animalistic noise, very much like what Chewbacca marrying a humpback whale might have sounded like at the end of the raucous wedding reception, but then realize I have got to breathe the baby out and try to chill out so I don’t rip my anus and have all my organs and the baby fall out right there in the toilet. Remember, I had never had a vaginal birth or felt anything like that before, so I was convinced I would also birth my entire pelvic floor. I then felt the ring of fire, but it was more like the sides of a cheese grater and not even fire—just scrapey and really painful! That was the ONLY painful part of labor. At this point I know I don’t have time to get in the tub. I call for Mike, who leaves the bath water running and had heard the change in my labor noises. That's where he found me semi-standing over the toilet and saw hair--but not MY hair! I remember saying, "This isn't poop!" and laughing hysterically. I mean, wouldn't you after playing the "Baby v. Turd?" game in your head?

He says, "HOLY CRAP! It’s the baby’s head. What do I do?" I think he was even too shocked to cuss. I said get me a clean towel and put it on the kitchen floor, which was maybe 4 steps or 2 leaps from the bathroom. He was freaking out because I was really, really calm. I rip off my nightgown, got down on my hands and knees, thinking this would be a good position if there was some sort of shoulder dystocia issue, and my body just literally took over. At that point I really wasn’t in too much pain. I didn't really feel anything other than a baby's head just hanging out. It was obvious my body was in control and I was just along for the ride. I attribute being a birth story junkie to knowing what to do, since it's not like I had previous practice. I think he called the midwife but I don’t quite remember him talking to her, and at one point he put the phone down and wasn’t quite talking to her anyhow. I remember him telling me, “Nancy says to pant!” and I said, “Too late, the baby is coming out and I will ahhhhh her down!” I told him to not pull anything out, the baby would come out on her own, and to be ready to catch.

The rest of her head came out. I asked if he could see a cord around her neck, and he said he did, so I said see if it is loose enough to remove it. It was, and said she was pink. I said wait for her shoulders to turn and she would probably come right out. I was meanwhile just sort of hanging out with a baby hanging out of me, waiting for the next contraction, checking out the tile and dried macaroni noodles that had escaped, and “ahhhhing” during the contractions with my mouth all open super low. When I felt one I pushed/ahhhed, and the rest of her just slid on out into his arms! He removed the rest of the loose cord and she looked around but didn’t cry right away—she was this great pink color. He helped me turn around so I could sit. I told him to get another towel and the snot sucker in case we needed it, we rubbed her down (not much vernix on her) and I checked her airway.

She did let out a few healthy cries but was very snuggly. I felt like I had torn on my right side somewhere and didn’t know the condition of my perineum, but knew I needed to sit in a way to allow the placenta to come out. We made sure the cord wasn’t knotted or constricted and I just held her and talked to her, stared right at her, and offered her my breast if she wanted it to see if the nursing would contract my uterus to get the placenta out while Mike called back (or maybe kept talking) to the midwife. I knew not to do anything crazy like try to cut the cord myself or pull on anything to avoid hemorrhaging, so I literally hung out until about 10 min. later when Andrea arrived first. Since Nancy was on the phone with us, she did not know we had actually HAD the baby already. She immediately got to work. She had Mike cut the cord, which had stopped pulsing, examined Charlotte, examined me, got Charlotte all wrapped up to hand to Mike in warmed up blankets from the dryer while I got again on all fours until the placenta came out about 15 minutes later. She checked that over and nothing was retained. I examined it, too. I got back on the toilet, she cleaned me up, and we made our way to the bedroom.

Nancy arrived and did my vitals while Andrea worked on Charlotte’s vitals. We got started on nursing and they gave us some family time while they both cleaned up in the bathroom and kitchen. We could both hear them in shock since I was definitely not showing any signs of urgency on the phone. I apparently was talking to them as normal as I would any other day--they noticed no sense of panic, urgency, labor lalaland speak, nothing. We ALL thought I had miles to go before I birthed. I am waiting any day for TLC to come up with a show called "I Didn't Know I Was That Far Along In Labor" or whatever. Maybe I'll apply to be on another episode of "Extreme Births!"

The next few hours were a party atmosphere, which I had no idea would make me so happy. My parents showed up, totally just expecting to get my first daughter at the door and leave, but we said, "Would you like to meet your new granddaughter?" They were absolutely shocked and it was just such a special moment to recount the story. My daughter woke up and came in and met her little sister. At first she was confused, but got so excited. I cannot believe she slept through the entire thing. We all hung out in there while Charlotte got weighed, measured, etc. My brother also stopped by before work. He was really blown away, as he had left at 9 just that previous night! They all went out as I got 3 stitches for a first degree minor tear and a "skid mark," but otherwise, my perineum somehow survived! No organs fell out other than the one that was supposed to! My MIL came by on her way to a tennis match and brought biscuits. People left, and the midwives went ahead and had their weekly Monday morning meeting in the front yard.

The rest of the day was a nice rotation of people, all who brought food! Charlotte S. was on her way over with donor breastmilk to help with the transition if needed, and brought all this amazing food and flowers. My friend Amy brought over this whole pasta spread and some good cheer. My FIL brought a big Smithfield Chicken and BBQ spread of food, and my brother came back over to hang out after work. My doula came over later and helped with latching, brought a little birthday cake, and brought the most amazing fresh herb sitz bath. This is such a contrast to the after care I received in the hospital. Having everyone celebrate around you in your own bedroom admiring your new baby is one of the best feelings in the world, with people serving me cold coconut water with bendy straws and wild berry pie!

It literally was the craziest thing I have ever done and Mike and I were such a great team. I am just so happy he did not straight up pass out or run screaming out the front door. I never, ever would have dreamed that I would just have a baby on my kitchen floor with just my family in the house and not even miss a meal. I never actually expected to not experience pain. I kept waiting to yell the "Why did you do this to me?" and "I can't do this!" statements during transition, but those never happened! Looking back, of course I was in transition right after my water broke. I never actually thought I wouldn't get any internal checks or monitoring, because I didn't want to know how many centimeters I was dilated after last birth's ordeal with the mental devastation of only being at 2cm and being stuck at 5 cm for about 14 hours. I never, ever fathomed that overall, I would not describe the birth as painful (uncomfortable, sure, but not screaming). I also cannot have imagined 2 entirely different labors, as the first was a 42-hour ordeal ending in a c-section, and this one was about 42 minutes of intensity before the baby pretty much just slid out and said, "Hey y'all!"

I think the things that really helped this labor is that I really must have been hypnotized to relax so deeply to deal with contractions, and my body was so safe and secure at home with no one watching me or whatnot to just allow my body to open up like it was supposed to do, that she just had all sorts of factors aligned to come out. I didn’t try to fight things at all and did have confidence in my body. Fear or apprehension were not present at all in this birth. However, I had confidence in my body during my last labor, too, so it really just goes to show that labor is totally unpredictable for both scenarios! My good friend dubbed me the "freak outlier birther" and that does make me laugh.

Charlotte nursed well and we had really enjoyed just lying in bed, snuggling my baby, having people bring me wild berry pie and delicious food, and taking pictures and whatnot. It is night and day difference between my recovery last time and this time. The midwives came to my house every other day to check on us, and again at 2 weeks, 4 weeks, and 6 weeks. I hadn't even gone outside since the walk on Sunday other than to get some sunshine in the back yard. The family doctor said bring her in when I felt up to it up to two weeks, since the midwives were seeing her so frequently. Even there, my care provider was crying with happiness when I shared my story, and had me recount it to several staff members. I really felt like I was in a dream. I stayed in bed with my girls as long as I wanted to because I knew this would never happen again, as we are done having children.

I don’t quite think it has set in for either one of us what exactly happened now 5 months later, and we sure are not thinking of the what-could-have-been type of scenarios. When people ask about the birth, there are usually 2 reactions. The first is the look of fear and horror that pass across faces, because that is their absolute worst nightmare. They all want to know why Mike didn't tie off the cord with a shoe string or why we didn't call 911. (Ha!) The rest are usually awestruck and say they totally wish they had that birth in the quiet, calm safety of their home with their little one not even waking up with hardly anyone poking, prodding, etc.

I do hope this story can be inspirational to others who are wishing for a homebirth, a VBAC, a HBAC, or whatever type of birth. Feel free to share it with those who you think might enjoy it!

Home Birth- With Dad On the Speaker Phone

Each birth is so unique, but I love how in all of them things have a way of working out, even if it isn't always how we had planned. This is a precious story with a mom who gets a great birth surrounded by those who love her.

Enjoy!

Henry's Birth

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When Chris and I started the discussion of having children, the type of birth we wanted had to be explored a bit. After researching online, watching some birth documentaries, etc. we both agreed that having a natural child birth was very important to us. Making this happen would take more research. I decided contacting some local midwives to explore the idea of a home birth would help with the decision process. We met with Lynnette, our midwife, and Chris and I felt she was the right choice for us. I went to my local OBGYN to get my 8 week ultrasound done and they informed us the due date was 01/04/11. The rest of us predicted a due date of around 12/27 or 12/28; due to my ovulation schedule and the husband being home.

On 12/17/10, I moved out to our new house in Yuma. Not finished, but mostly cosmetic work left to be done. My parents were coming in to visit before the birth and to be there just in case Chris wasn't home when I went in to labor. Lucky me they got into the car on Saturday and not any later. Sunday morning about 1am I woke up, because well I felt I wet myself and then it was like I couldn't control my bladder and would just go on occasion before making it to the bathroom. I chalked this up to uncontrollable urination which some women get in late pregnancy.

On Sunday afternoon my parents arrived in town. They were exhausted so they headed to bed around 8:00 that evening. I had been explaining to my mum I was having some lower back pain about this time. About a half hour after they went to bed I started having contractions, but wasn't sure. At 11pm I called Lynnette and she said they were definitely contractions and to contact her when they were 5 minutes apart. To try to rest in the meantime, since our baby boy would be coming into the world soon.

So sleep, well didn't get much, between contractions and anticipation it wasn't happening. Then the nerves were kicking in because Chris was on his way to Delaware and wouldn't be home until Thursday. Monday morning when my mum and dad got up, I informed them I was having contractions and they were 7 minutes apart. Lynnette contacted me in the morning on her way to another home birth; after this birth she was going to be heading to me.

When my contractions got closer together she called Whitney (Midwife Assistant/Midwife in Training) to get there before her to assist me in the meantime. At this point I was getting tired and the contractions were starting to hurt more so I was excited Whitney arrived for some additional support. I kept thinking to myself about all the books I read to prepare me for this. Kept thinking relax and breathe through the contractions. Talking or making noises only exhausted me more, so I just kept with the breathing and relaxing. I would rest in the hot bath tub to help relieve some of the pain or lay down/sit down with a heating pad. Food was the last thing on my mind, but I knew I needed it. When I felt weak I would inform Whitney and her or my mum would get me a snack.

When Lynnette arrived that early evening they did a check to see how far dilated I was and they were shocked when they found out I was 7cm. They thought I had been so quiet that they were guessing 4cm maybe 5, but not 7cm. The contractions were closer and stronger. Then the contractions were forcing me to push. It was time to get checked out again and yep I was crowning. On to the bed I went. I got on my knees and rested my arms and head on the headboard. Whitney or my Mum, not really sure, called Chris and got him on speaker phone for the birth.

All that reading came in handy. Remembering only to push during the contractions and rest in between, unless instructed otherwise. Did it hurt? Of course it hurt, but I knew the pain was manageable if I focused on what it was achieving the birth of our son. His head was out. Now I heard Lynette yelling to push between the contractions because the cord was around is neck (not wrapped, but still around). Lynnette had to help pull him out the rest of the way since they were concerned about how the cord was. He was pale; I heard him cry. Lynnette was concerned that he hadn't taken that big breathe to release all the fluids, so she grabbed the oxygen puffer (I am sure there is a techinical name for this, but I don't know it), his heart was beating and he was breathing, he just needed a little help to get that big breathe taken. Henry then was crying...loud.

This was an amazing experience that one can hardly find words to describe. Immediately after Henry let out that big cry he was put on my chest for me to hold. I was able to look into his eyes, tell him I love him and got to look at his big eyes get lost in mine. This was incredible bonding time. After a while it was time for him to be checked out and the cord cut. Since Chris wasn't home to cut the cord my mother got the honor. I think she was really happy that she got to do this. After we were both cleaned up it was time to just lay together some more.
He is a normal healthy baby boy and absolutely amazing. Henry Russell St.Peter was born on Monday, 12/20/10 at 10:03pm 7lbs 7oz 20 inches long. 25-26 hours of contractions and our little miracle was here.

All births can be a scary no matter where you chose to have your baby. I was fortunate enough to find a midwife with a good team, with a lot of experience to help me have the birth I wanted.
My mum asked me the next day, when you get pregnant again will you do another home birth?
YES, of course. I got the birth I wanted and was able to do it at my pace in my home. The only thing I would change is having my husband there.

I would recommend all mothers to be to consider a natural childbirth, whether at home or in a hospital. It a truly rewarding feeling. Trust your body, it was built to give birth. I highly recommend reading a Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin; great book with a lot of helpful information.

This will be an experience I will never forget, it was a proud day for me and a truly blessed day for Chris and I. Hope you all enjoyed reading about the birth of our son and like the pictures.
A big thanks to Mum and Dad for all their support during and after the birth. Also to Lynnette and Whitney helping me have the birth I wanted and delivering our son. And of course to my most amazing husband, couldn't of done this without you.

The Real Reason I Birth At Home

Do you really want to know why I choose to have my second child out of a hospital? There were actually a few factors. But I actually had a great hospital birth experience. I had nothing to complain about. I pushed for four hours in many positions. Nobody even mentioned drugs or a c-section to me. The midwife was wonderful and the nurse was quiet and kind.



No I didn't choose an out of hospital birth because I had a traumatic birth experience or because I was afraid I couldn't do it in hospital. I figured I could show up late enough and be committed enough to have the baby naturally. The reason I choose to never go back to a hospital was because of the post-partum experience.



This video shows a great example of a very typical postpartum experience for a baby and mother. (Note that this is not the case in all hospitals- some can and do wait for some of these procedures if asked to. Some are actually much worse than this but this is probably pretty typical.)



You know what, I think most women don't even remember this happening. It all just takes a few minutes but those few minutes are precious and can not be replaced.



I actually was able to hold my baby right away and attempted to nurse him while I was being stitched up. I know some things were done in the room but I don't remember quite what. He was not ready to nurse right away though and once I got cleaned up I was moved up to the recovery floor of the hospital. Once there the nurse asked if they could take my baby to do all the typical newborn "stuff" or "procedures."



I had her assure me that they would bring the baby back quickly. I had my husband go with him to keep him company. I thought that it would be fine if at least his dad was with him to keep him safe and to be a voice of comfort.



But it wasn't quick. My son was gone for at least an hour. I honestly don't know how long it was in the haze of post birth hormones. I know they told me to get some sleep. You would think that after three solid nights of labor during which I never got any solid sleep I would have just hit the pillow and been out. You would be wrong. I was on that natural birth "high" and was almost jittery. I had so much energy and I just wanted to hold my baby.



I realized afterwards that my baby probably just wanted to be held too. My husband stayed with him and he was poked and bathed and scrubbed and heated and had goop applied.



By the time they brought my swaddled little baby back to me he was sound asleep. I was exhausted by then too, the birth high and brief time of awareness having passed. He slept and slept and slept. He was difficult to even wake to nurse. Thus began a vicious cycle of jaundice, sleepiness, and lack of interest in nursing.



I wept over him for hours trying to get him to nurse.



I was lucky enough to have support and a strong desire and everything worked out in the end and he nursed well and until he was two. But I understood why women quit in those early days of struggle.



I also wept because I felt no connection to him. This is awful to say and don't often admit it but it is so important that it be talked about. I just looked at him and felt like he didn't like me. It did not even make sense. It wasn't rational and it wasn't fun.



My husband on the other hand felt so bonded with him. That time they had spent together while he was being bathed and cared for in the infant nursery (or baby concentration camp as it has been called) was special for him. Our son would calm and stop crying when he heard his daddy's voice. He recognized him from when he would read to us while I was pregnant.



I am so glad they had that time to be together and the special bond it gave them. But I should have had it too.



Now this may sound like some useless rant. Maybe I am some overwrought housewife complaining about nothing that happened years ago. But I don't think I am. I think what we do to babies in the minutes and hours after their births matters deeply. We are fine, my son and I- but if I could prevent one mom from having her baby uselessly taken from her for procedures that are either unnecessary or can be put off, then this is all worth it.



I can't prove to you that there is anything wrong with every infant being scrubbed, poked and having various foreign objects stuck into various orifices just as they come into a new world. I can't prove that it is terrifying or disturbing or harmful. But I can tell you that as a mother it is sickening to watch a baby be treated this way.



They have just emerged from a dark, fairly quiet, calm and protected watery place. They have been near (OK, inside) one person this whole time. They have heard her heart and her voice. They have been constantly fed by her and gently rocked everywhere she went. They will recognize this woman and her voice from birth.



There is something deeply twisted about going from that place and that one person into the hands of countless rough and scrubbing strangers rather than to her- that woman we call mother.



No matter how you feel about most of these infant "procedures"- even if you happen to think some of them are necessary- (most are not, most of the time) they can all pretty much wait. They can wait even for an hour or two. In fact, many of them don't need to be done at all.



No - your baby is not born filthy and in need of a vigorous bath. No he does not need a plastic bracelet on his writs. He does not need to be wrapped in a blanket, have tubes stuck down his throat or goop in his eyes. He will in fact survive if he is not weighed- EVER.



He will survive without all these things- and he will probably survive with them too. But the moments after birth are delicate and sacred. We as mothers and women must start protecting them both for our babies and for ourselves.



There are too many of us who feel like our babies are strangers. Too many of us struggle with breastfeeding. Too many of us have people whose names we can not even remember touch our babies before we do. Too many of us fail to question what are obviously upsetting procedures to the newborn.



Our first job as a mother is not to be polite and work with the system in every way. Our first job is to protect our babies from unnecessary harm and pain. We can change the way babies enter the world. Maybe they are right, peace on earth does begin with birth.

Upcoming Bradley Class in Healdsburg CA

Class start date: August 13th
Classes would be held Saturdays from 1-4

Take place at Healdsburg Yoga, in Healdsburg CA, 15 minutes north of SR.

Cost: 320- (I require a $25 deposit via mail to reserve your spot and buy materials and the balance due the first day of class).

Please let me know as soon as possible if you are a definite in so that I can reserve my space rental and get things going!

Also- I have a newborn! I would be brining her to class with me most likely so I don't have to be away from her. She is a very content baby- but I wanted to let everybody know and make sure you are comfortable with that before you sign up.

I need 5 signed up couples to do the class and make it official.

The C-Section as Birth Control

I talked to not one but two women this week who had one child but had wanted to have more. What happened?

The thing that made them change their minds was giving birth to their first child. And they gave birth via emergency cesarean section. They were both so disturbed by the experience that they decided that they would have no more children.

We often talk about the impact of the ever present c-section in our culture. People talk about how it can impact the breastfeeding relationship or recovery time or the difficulties in VBAC and even how lifesaving and wonderful it can be. These are all important factors. But there is something that is often overlooked.

The c-section is a cruel form of birth control.

I have talked to dozens of women who limit their family size because of c-sections. Sometimes it is because their c-section was unexpected, scary, and traumatizing. Sometimes it is because they were told that they "had" to have repeat sections and that they should limit their family size to three or fewer children for their own personal safety.

Whatever the reason, we must talk about this issue.

Roger W. Harms, M.D. of the Mayo Clinic, when asked how many c-sections a woman can safely have says this:" Most women can safely have up to three C-sections. Each repeat C-section is generally more complicated than the last, however."
He goes on to mention some of the risks of numerous abdominal surgeries. They include:

"Primary concerns with repeat C-sections include:

• Weakened uterine wall. Each uterine incision leaves a weak spot in the uterine wall. This may interfere with future attempts at vaginal birth.
• Problems with the placenta. The more C-sections you've had, the greater the risk of developing problems with the placenta — such as when the placenta implants too deeply and firmly to the uterine wall (placenta accreta) or when the placenta partially or completely covers the opening of the cervix (placenta previa).
• Heavy bleeding. The risk of needing a hysterectomy — removal of the uterus — to stop excessive bleeding after delivery increases with the number of repeat C-sections."

So- in general women are cautioned against having more than three surgical deliveries for the above mentioned reasons.

I have met so many women though who never move past that first traumatic birth experience. To me this is one of the unspoken tragedies and cruelties of modern birth. Whatever you think of family size and population control, it is exceptionally distasteful that the way we damage women at the time of birth is so traumatizing both physically and emotionally that they actually change their life and family plans because of it.

We can talk all day about the monetary cost of the c-section or about how it saves lives or about bacteria in the birth canal and trouble breathing, but you can not put a price on the damage we are doing to women.

This is cruel. This is abusive. This is wrong. And- this is how we are treating women at the time of their babies births. We are literally hurting women so deeply that they are scared to death to ever bear another child.

How often does a normal, natural, un-medicated birth do this?

I want to share some comments from a mom forum regarding this subject. These women say it far better than I ever could.

"My doctor has said that since I had so much scar tissue from my third c-section, that he doesn't recommend that I try it again. We've decided to take his advice. Our third child died because of malformed kidneys, and my heart is longing for him, but we are blessed with two others, and God has seen us through it all. I know that if He means for us to have another, thought it may not be ours biologically, it will be a gift from Him. My advice to those who really want another child, but the circumstances don't favor it--pray for guidance, listen to your doctor, and be content with the blessings that you do have."

"i had two c-sections so far i am pregnant now and having 3rd c section soon. my dr keeps pushing me to have my tubes ties but i am married and only 25 i dont want to get tubes tied dont know what i should do???i have 2 boys dont know what this is? should i risk a 4th? or get tubes tied??"

"I am absolutelty scared to give birth, my husband and i trying to get pregnant again, i had c-section in August with my first baby and the recovery was horrible thanks to a hospital error that resulted in sever staph infection and blood infection. I really want to go naturally next time but im scared to death, especially since DD's head was 15 inches when she was born,"

I must not be the only person who finds these sentiments so incredibly tragic. Women are yearning for more children. Women are being pushed into not just unwanted c-sections, but unwanted tubal ligations. Can we even describe how cruel this is?

Lest it seem like I am just inventing this problem after talking to a few women (in fact I have talked to numerous women through the years who get their tubes tied after their 2nd or 3rd c-section or who are so upset by the ordeal of the first birth that they simply stop trying on their own) let's look at a huge documented study supporting this fact: women who have c-sections have fewer children.

In fact, the study found that, "women who underwent C-section to have their first baby were 12 percent less likely to have another child than women who gave birth vaginally."

You can read the study in full here, which concluded, "This suggests that the reduced fertility was to a large degree voluntary and not related to the indication, nor to any physical consequence, of the cesarean delivery."

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There are women who have half a dozen or more c-sections safely. There are women who love their surgical births. There are women who have traumatic births and go on to have wonderful empowering births later. But we can not ignore the fact that the impact of the prominent cesarean section is far deeper and damaging than anybody cares to admit.

We are talking about a surgery that is done about 30% of the time in the USA. We are talking about surgery that is the most common surgery for women. This is also a surgery that not too many years ago was done only about four percent of the time. The fact that the c-section is limiting family size is no laughing matter.

We can not ignore the impact of modern birth on the modern woman. We must take back our choices, our bodies, our births and our families. I wish I could say that there are others out there that will help us do this, but I just don't believe it any more. We must own our choices, face our fears, and give birth under our own power.

Honey Vanilla Crunch Granola

This is my mom's granola recipe- I think I will make it today. Yummy breakfast!

4 cups old-fashioned (rolled) oats

1 cup wheat bran

1 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

1 cup chopped walnuts

1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup honey

1/2 cup canola oil, plus additional for greasing the pan

2 tablespoons 2% reduced-fat mild

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 325F. Lightly oil a large, rimmed baking sheet

2. Combine oats, wheat bran, coconut, walnuts, brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a large bowl; stir well.

3. Stir honey, oil, milk and vanilla in a small saucepan over low heat until mixture fizzes around the edges. Pour over oat mixture and stir well.

4. Spread onto prepared baking sheet. Bake about 25 minutes, until lightly browned, stirring often. Place baking sheet on a wire rack and cool undisturbed until room temperature, about 1-1/2 hours. Break up and store in a large container at room temperature up to 1 month.

Makes about 8 cups.