Obedience

{Just FYI- I reserve the right to have my Sunday posts wax religious, so feel free to skip this one if that isn't your thing.}

I never really write about parenting. There are lots of reasons for this, one being that I don't know how good of a parent I am, and the other being that since my kids are still so young, who knows if what I am doing is actually working anyways. I often feel that we won't really know how great our choices were and how good of a job we did until these little children grow into good adults with the attributes we tried to instill in them.

But, when I think of the kind of parent I WANT to be, I can not help but think of the example set in the scriptures by our Father in Heaven. I like to think of God as a Father rather than a distant, unknowable being. It makes him more personal, real and close. It makes Him sound like somebody I can try to emulate even though I have failings. And it makes Him feel like somebody who cares about me, just as I care for my children. The concept of fatherhood and motherhood is something that I "get."

And when I think of the way that He parents I notice things that I need to work on. They are in fact, some of the hardest things for a human parent to do.

I notice that He sets rules, (or guidelines or commandments) and then he lets us choose what we would like to do. He does not force us to do much of anything. He does however give consequences for our choices, good or bad. The scriptures talk about the man and woman Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. They were told not to eat of the fruit of a certain tree or else they would be cast out. But then their Father let them choose what to do. They were still able to make choices, there were just consequences for them. So they ate, and they had to leave the garden, but they were always still blessed and loved by their Father. He didn't take away the consequences, but he was there for them when they experienced pain FOR their choices.

I think this is one of the most beautiful lessons in all of the scriptures, and one of the hardest to emulate.

How angry do you get when you specifically tell your children NOT to do something? What if this thing is for their own good, even their safety? And then, when they disobey, not only is it worrying (like if they could have or do get hurt) but very frustrating that this child that you love, cherish and care for specifically did something they knew they should not do.

For me this is when patience becomes harder, anger and frustration flare up, and I struggle to figure out just how to handle the situation. I believe that there truly must be consequences. It is not fair to anybody to be taught that their actions have no consequences, especially when those actions could potentially harm them or others. And while it can be hard to be patient, it can also be very difficult to allow your child to have a natural or imposed consequence for something they have done, even if it really is necessary so that they don't continue to repeat a behavior that could hurt them, or those around them.

When I think about parenting this way, some things seem clear to me:

~One, all children (including ourselves) need some ground rules. Those ground rules should serve a purpose and not just be mindless. Often they will have something to do with protecting themselves, preventing them from hurting others, or teaching them to be good and decent.

~Two, children (including ourselves) might not always understand WHY these ground rules exist, but hopefully trust their parents enough to realize that they don't just make stuff up to be mean. (Of course a very young child will not understand why they can't run into the street at any time, but they must be taught not to do it, despite the fact that it will be beyond their understanding until they are a little older.)

~Three, parents must allow for some consequences for actions. This can be really hard. Maybe I tell my son that he will lose privilege X if he abuses it. Then he does it again. I hate to see him sad, BUT, I must allow him to have his consequences so that he can learn to obey and so that he can learn to trust me, because I mean it when I say something.

~Obedience~

To me, this is when the concept of obedience comes in, and it is a difficult concept to wrap your head around. Is it fair to expect and teach obedience to our children? Must we really expect them to do things that they may not yet understand WHY we are expecting them? Must there be rules and standards of living? Why can't the just do whatever they feel like doing?

Again, I think of the way my Father teaches.

My religion, like many others, has a dietary law that members of our church are expected to live. It is honestly one of the things that makes other people think I am a little nuts. I don't drink coffee, alcohol, tobacco or anything else that is addictive- and I try to be healthy and eat grains and fruits and vegetables.

Well, everybody knows that it is bad for you to smoke three packs a day or drink a fifth of vodka every night, but why not the occasional glass of wine or cup of coffee? Moderation is the key right?!

Moderation is important, but my Father has asked me, and at some point I agreed, that I would live this law PERFECTLY, not moderately. I have been asked for perfect obedience.

He doesn't want me to have a cup of coffee, even if I am SUPER tired. I don't have a glass of wine even after a REALLY bad day. Not even ONE. I don't even ever have ONE cigarette (which isn't really enough to do any damage, is it?) No- not even one. Because what is required is perfect and strict obedience.

Sometimes it is easy to think....well, that this sounds a little... harsh. But then I think of my children again....

I don't want my children to play in the street even when the traffic flow is really minimal. And even if they went in the street, without asking and didn't get hurt- I would still impose some type of consequence. Why? Because I want them to remember to NEVER do that without me- never. I want them to know how much I love them and how much I care for their safety and that this is such an important lesson that it must be followed perfectly.

Then I think of my children when they are a little older. I have a son and two daughters. Both can get into trouble after a certain time of night when they are teenagers, right? Some kids might be a little more...rebellious or wild than others. A parent might worry more about a girl out doing things. So will I have different "rules" for each kid? Will the boy get to stay out later? Will one of the girls be more trusted and allowed to do do things that the others are not? Is that even fair?

Hmmm....I may have different rules for different children based on past behavior and my own personal knowledge of them as their mother. Rules may change with age appropriateness or learning as a parent, but I think no matter the sex, trustworthiness or personality of my children, I will still hold every single one of them to the same standard. There will be behavior expectations that are UNIVERSAL despite the differences among the children. All children will be expected to be honest. All will be expected to be kind. All will be expected to be good people.

My understanding is that this too is how my Father works too. We all get the same standards to live by. Even people who struggle with anger are expected to be loving and not commit murder. The example I used above is the rule that I have agreed to not even take one sip of alcohol. It seems broad, even oppressive to be so strict and to demand the same amount of obedience for everybody. Surely some people CAN have a glass of wine every once in a while with no nose dives into being a raging alcoholic- so why should they be held to this same strict standard of NONE? I think that this is possibly to protect those who, for whatever reason, have a weakness in this area. Some people can do some things in moderation. The same thing (for example a substance) might be highly and quickly addictive for another.

So, all my children are expected to stay out of the street. The six year old probably is aware enough to hear and move out of the way when a car is coming. He is still, however, not allowed to play there! Why? Lots of reasons- one being that the little ones don't "get it" yet and would follow his example without any understanding of the danger. Another being that even if it is less dangerous for him, it is still dangerous, and I am interested in keeping EVERY single one of my children alive and healthy, not just some of them.

So that's what I think about obedience. That is the kind of parent I want to be- one that is loving and kind but firm and trustworthy and fair. A parent that allows choices and consequences and makes rules that protect my children. I want to be a parent who raises young children into good adults. I want to have children who look back and think, "I get it now, she just loved me."

Part Two- The NICU and Going Home

Yesterday we featured an amazing birth story from a mom who had a great birth center birth and found that her sweet baby had down syndrome. It ended with them transfering to the hospital to see if the babe was healthy and able to go home.
Today's post is part two of their journey, their stay in the NICU and heading home. I love how this mama is strong and advocates for her baby at a difficult time and does everything she can to give her baby what she needs most. What a blessed baby to have a family like this. You can follow their journey on their personal blog, here and see more pictures of this beautiful baby as she has grown. Enjoy!
~

Survival Stories From the NICU

Kennedy's First Day in the NICU

Hopefully this entry doesn't come across completely scatter brained. Although it felt like eternity that we were there, seven weeks later, it's very much a blur.

I have to admit, I had no idea what to expect going into the NICU. All I knew is that in reality, we should have been going home from the birth center, with our sweet baby girl. I wanted more than anything to be in my bed, snuggled up with her. Instead, I arrived at the NICU to find her under warming lamps with tubes and wires. Despite the Down Syndrome, everything else was going well. I hoped we would be discharged in a day or so, and could move forward with life as we would soon get to know it.

Upon arrival to the NICU I was soon faced with a "Lactation Consultant." I put that in quotes, because I can't believe anyone who would say the things she said, would actually call themselves a Lactation Consultant. She said things like, "Babies with Down Syndrome can't breastfeed," "You'll have to give her a pacifier," and "You'll need to supplement with formula." I looked at Andrea and Angie with confusion and amazement. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Luckily they spoke up, and defended the fact that Kennedy was already breastfeeding! I was still in shock, and numb. I hadn't yet realized that I would soon have to stand up for my daughter and fight our battles. This was only the beginning of the breastfeeding versus formula battle. Little did I know at that moment, just how hard things would become. About the only thing I can thank the "Lactation Consultant" for, was assuring that Marlon and I were able to stay in a "courtesy room."

Kennedy had an echo performed on our first day there, and the Pediatric Cardiologist came over to talk to Marlon and I. I was sure that he was going to tell us that everything was fine. After all, her EKG had been normal and no one heard anything abnormal when listening to her heart. I could not have been more wrong in my assumption. The doctor explained that there were a few things going on with Kennedy's heart. She had an AV Canal Defect and a narrowing of the aortic arch. He explained that there was also a valve they would be watching to see if it closed. Then the words "open heart surgery" came out of his mouth. I can honestly say, I pretty much lost it at that point. My sweet baby girl, just hours old, was going to need open heart surgery in a few months. This was like a nightmare. I kept thinking I had to be dreaming because this couldn't be happening. The news of her diagnosis of Down Syndrome was trivial compared to the heart defect that would require open heart surgery. To make matters worse, my dreams of a quick exit from the NICU were deflated when he told me that we would be there for three to seven days.

Kennedy getting lots of snuggles from mommy and daddy.

Little did I know, I was in for what turned out to be the longest five days of my life (to date.) Some of the nurses in the NICU were wonderful, and for them I am grateful. However, there were just as many who I often termed "Nurse Ratched." I quickly found that each shift change brought about a huge level of fear and anxiety over who the next nurse would be, and what struggles we would encounter. Kennedy was nursing great, and I was pumping around the clock in hopes that I could build my milk supply. The night after she was born, her IV was already removed and her oxygen had been decreased. She was doing really well. By the next day, concerns over her weight began. She had lost a few ounces, just as any new baby does. But we were being held to "NICU Standards" and that wasn't acceptable. Our nurse started pushing me to supplement. I refused. I was still pumping around the clock, every 2 hours. I was nursing Kennedy and giving her bottles of what I was pumping. We had an awesome night nurse, her oxygen would soon be removed and I felt like we were really making progress. I left the NICU, headed to my room to shower and get breakfast. I felt confident that we were on our way to going home. I even sent out text messages saying how great things were going.

Kennedy, snug as a bug in her NICU bassinet.

Boy was I shocked to go back to the NICU a short 1.5 hours later to be told that the Neonatologist wanted to put a feeding tube in!!!!! This is just one example of the inconsistencies that occurred from one nurse/shift to the next. Not only were some of their nursing practices inconsistent, so was their documentation and verbal communication. I was asked by several nurses about my "breech birth" and the neonatologist was apparently under the impression that I had no prenatal care. This particular nurse who happened to mention they wanted to put a feeding tube in, was told that the Cardiologist discussed it with me the day prior and I "went running from the room crying." I had barely spoken with the Cardiologist the day prior. Did I happen to mention we had not even seen a neonatologist since the day we arrived? That was Saturday, and it was now Tuesday. Marlon and I began another argument. My husband really stepped up to deal with the "medical" side of it at times. I was emotionally a wreck and just couldn't handle it - reasonably.) I am so thankful for Angie and Andrea who were always available to provide support, encouragement, and information. Just as I refused to supplement with formula, I refused the feeding tube. My compromise was that I would pump, and give her bottles. She needed to eat 2 ounces every 4 hours. I knew this would be a challenge. She was a sleepy baby. But I was determined that I wasn't going to give in to a feeding tube with out a fight. Well, my strong little fighter did it! We proved them wrong, and even the neonatologist had to admit that he was wrong, and a feeding tube wasn't needed. Kennedy gained back 2 ounces that day! There was an end in sight!

Andrea visiting Kennedy * 2/22/11

After standing my ground, and Kennedy and I proving them right....and a meeting between my husband, myself and a hospital administrator, I think everyone started to realize that I meant business. People who had "looked down on me" for not having a traditional birth were suddenly interested in hearing my story.

After five days in the NICU, a terrifying diagnosis of a cardiac defect, and confirmation of the Down Syndrome, we were finally able to bring our sweet baby girl home. She was weighing in at 7lbs. 4oz. Just 2oz. less than her birth weight.

Those five days were an eye opening and emotional experience. I was still dealing with the shock and reality of Kennedy's diagnosis, and I quickly realized something I knew all along. You can't just go with what the medical staff says, because while they did go to school, no one knows your child better than you. Our NICU stay also showed me how supportive our families are, and how much we would soon be depending on them. Sadly, the experience also taught me who my real friends were (more on this later). I am grateful to our friends and family who were with us, supporting us emotionally and physically. I'm thankful for all of our family and friends (and even strangers) who provided us with their love, support and prayers. I am especially grateful to Andrea, Angie and Bea who went above and beyond to provide such a high level of physical and emotional support through visits, phone calls and text messages. Marlon and I truly could not have gotten through those five days with out everyone's support.

Kennedy getting strapped in for her ride home! 2/24/11

Birth Story- Dream Birth, Surprise Baby

This is just an amazing and heartbreaking birth story with a surprise ending. So happy for this family that they were blessed with such a beautiful, sweet baby.

You can read more about this family here. I will share the next part of the story tomorrow.

Enjoy!
~

Where Our Journey Began

Let me start by saying, I spent much of my pregnancy dreaming about my "perfect birth experience" and thanks to the support of two very special women (Angie and Andrea), my amazing husband (Marlon), and my mother - I was able to achieve my dream birth. Not only did I come out of this with an amazing birth experience, and a beautiful daughter - but also two wonderful friends. Angie and Andrea will always hold a special place in our hearts and in Kennedy's life.

My husband and I talked about having children from the time we started dating, and after eight years our dream was finally coming true. We got pregnant right after we got married. I had a great pregnancy, aside from some pretty awful morning sickness for the first 16 weeks. I loved being pregnant. It was amazing to know that I was growing a life inside of me. I couldn't get enough of her crazy movements. Some days I would just sit on the couch watching her go crazy in my belly.

I had been having contractions on and off for weeks. After a pre-term labor scare at around 34 weeks, we all figured that Kennedy would be arriving early. Here I was, less than a week before my due date, feeling like the boy who cried wolf, every time I would text my Doula, Angie, to tell her that I was having contractions. I was sure that when I did go into labor, no one would believe me – even I didn’t think I’d believe it!

Friday February 18, 2011

I noticed a little pink tinged mucus when I went to the bathroom that afternoon. It was something new, but I wasn’t about to get excited after all the false alarms I’d had. I did text Angie, to let her know – just in case! I went about my day and around 3:30pm I noticed that the contractions I was having felt different than usual. They were consistently 11 minutes apart. I talked to my aunt on the phone for about 1 ½ hours. I continued to have contractions 11 minutes apart, and they were definitely stronger than I’d felt before. They actually took some concentration to breathe through. I hung up the phone with my aunt around 5pm, just as Marlon was getting home. I told him what was going on, but neither of us wanted to get excited. We figured it would just stop again. I called Angie to see what she though. During that conversation I had a few pretty strong contractions that I had to stop talking during. She reminded me of my breathing, and said it sounded like it could be early labor. Her advice, stay comfortable and try to get some rest.

My Last Belly Pic - 39 weeks 4 days

At this point, I was still convinced it would stop. I told Marlon I wanted to go for a walk. I didn’t take my cell phone, so there was no timing the contractions. Our walk ended up being pretty long, and by the end the contractions seemed a lot closer together and stronger. Towards the end of the walk I was starting to think I wasn’t going to make it! We got home and Marlon decided to make me some pasta. It was about 7:45 and the contractions were 5 ½ - 6 ½ minutes apart, 60 seconds long and actually a little painful! I text Angie again, and she suggested a warm bath. I ate my pasta and got in the tub. The contractions were anywhere from 4 ½ - 6 ½ minutes apart. I chatted online with some friends while I was in the tub. The contractions were getting stronger though and I just couldn’t be bothered with the laptop anymore. At around 9:30 the contractions were 5-6 minutes apart, and for some reason I STILL thought it was going to stop. I text Angie and told her I was screwed if this wasn’t really labor. She assured me that it was early labor, and that she had already given Andrea, the Midwife on call a heads up. Marlon and I tried different coping techniques like the birth ball, a hot shower, massage, position changes, etc. I tried to lay down and rest but the pain was worse when I laid down.

Around 11:10pm I decided I couldn’t handle the contractions on my own anymore. I called Angie to come over. She suggested that I call Andrea, the midwife on call, and see what she wanted us to do. I spoke with Andrea at 11:20 – I couldn’t talk at all through the contractions, but we somehow had a conversation and agreed to meet at the birth center in an hour. I called Angie back to let her know the update. I had a really strong contraction just as I was calling her, and threw my cell phone at my husband to talk to her.

Was this really it? I still half expected things to stop. We loaded everything into the car and left the house at 11:50pm. The ride to the birth center was rough! I was kneeling on the front seat, leaning over the back. I can only imagine what other people on the road were thinking. Marlon and I kept laughing about it on the way. He was also trying to massage my back during the contractions and I kept yelling at him to just drive carefully! We arrived at exactly 12:20am, and Andrea pulled in right behind us. We went into the birth suite, and left everything in the car. I was still convinced that she was going to tell me I was still the same 2cm dilated that I was 5 ½ weeks earlier! I laid down so Andrea could check me, and I held my breath, in anticipation, when she announced that I was 4-5cm and definitely having a baby!

Angie arrived right after I had been checked and she got right to work. Her and Marlon did an amazing job together - massaging, helping me breathe, etc. I pretty much lost all track of time at this point. The contractions started coming back to back and even Andrea and Angie were surprised by how quickly things were moving. I sent my Marlon to call my mom and have her head to the birth center. Things were getting really intense, my back was hurting and I was getting incredibly nauseous. After a little while I moved to the bed. Angie got a hot pack for my back and showed Marlon how to massage. A few position changes and a little while later I decided I wanted to get in the tub. Andrea went to fill it, and I continued to change positions until it was time to move to the tub. I got in and changed positions several times before I decided what was comfortable. I ended up squatting/kneeling and leaning over the side. Marlon held me and helped me breathe while Angie was keeping cold towels on me and pouring hot water over my back.

I started to feel a lot of pressure and at first I just tried to breathe through it. I felt like I probably still had “forever” to go. I was still laughing and joking in between contractions. In fact, I even remember talking about baby number two. Afterward Angie and Andrea said they’ve never had anyone talk about having another baby while they were getting ready to push! I couldn't stand the pressure anymore and started to push gently. Marlon kept telling me how strong I was and how great I was doing. I think I may have said that I couldn’t do it at one point, that should have been my clue that I was close! After pushing through a few contractions I told Andrea I “felt something” so she told me to feel down there. I told her that I “felt a bubble.” She said that it was just the amniotic sac bulging. I remember thinking that I must have forever if my water hadn’t broken! I remember a ton of pressure and some burning and I reached down and said “Andrea help me, the bubble is bigger.” Andrea and Angie helped me lean back when Andrea reached down and announced, “that’s the baby!!!” Kennedy had arrived with the membranes completely in tact. She instructed Marlon to catch our baby girl as she broke the sac. Andrea helped him put her on my chest. Her arrival time was 4:04 A.M. Exactly 3 hours and 44 minutes after we arrived at the birth center.

I was in shock how quickly it happened and instantly felt that natural high and feeling of empowerment that everyone talks about. I had my dream birth and I was finally holding my baby girl. A moment I had dreamed about for so long. She was absolutely beautiful and perfect in every way.

Kennedy had a little trouble breathing at first. The birth assistant missed the birth by a few minutes, so Angie jumped in to help. After a little oxygen Kennedy got pink and she was able to nurse before we got out of the tub. We moved to the bed, and Marlon and I snuggled our daughter while she continued to nurse.

A little while later Andrea said she was going to do the newborn exam. Kennedy weighed in at 7lbs 6 oz and was 19 1/2 inches long. After completing the exam, she told us she was concerned because she saw some physical characteristics of Down Syndrome, and that a lot of babies with it have cardiac conditions and that she needed to be evaluated. I was flooded with emotions. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My hopes, dreams, expectations were all changed with just those few words. At first I was convinced that there was just no way. We were young, healthy, had no family history. I still can’t quite put into words how I felt at that moment.

The ambulance was called. It was a non-emergent trasfer so I was able to get some more cuddle time and she nursed again. When the EMTs came, Marlon went with Kennedy and Angie followed them to the hospital.

Kennedy Aleise * 2/19/2011 * 7lbs. 6oz. * 19 1/2 inches

Ready for her first journey into the real world, and to the NICU.

Andrea checked me and said that I would need some stitches, to eat, rest for a little and have a shower before I could leave. I sent my mom to McDonald’s and ended up eating a sausage, egg and cheese bagel while Andrea did my sutures. This seemed to take forever. The tear was a little worse than she had first thought, and she did each stitch individually, so that it would be stronger. Shortly after Marlon called to tell me that the doctors agreed with the initial diagnosis of Down Syndrome. I was completely devastated. I took my shower, and Andrea finished things up. They got me out of there as quickly as possible, and Andrea even came to the hospital with my mom and I.

I was completely numb on the ride to the hospital. I had no idea what to think, all I knew was that this isn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be driving home with my husband and baby.

Learning to Trust My Instincts: One Mother's Story

I am doing a series of posts written by some of our mamas about their birth stories and what they learned from the birth experience and some of the things that didn't go just as they had planned. You can read this mama's birth story in full here and below in the post is the lessons she took from it. There is so much she learned about who to trust, where she really wanted to birth and standing up for herself and trusting her own body and intuition. These are all hard things for a mama but make all the difference in a birth. Enjoy!

"What I learned from the pregnancy and birth of my first child.

When his amniotic sac leaked at 16 weeks, I learned to trust my intuition and the words of wise women around me more than that of my doctor. I’ve heard of women in similar situations who have gone in for D&Cs after a few days when their body did not expel the baby. I refused to believe the bad report that my doctor gave and clung on to the hope from my cousin that all was not lost.

When I went into preterm labour, I learned just how necessary hospitals, doctors, nurses, paramedics, and everyone else involved in emergency care really are. I am eternally grateful to those who helped me during what was the scariest moment of my life, up until that point and even since that point. I do believe they are too involved in the care of low risk pregnancies and births, but there truly is a place for them and a role for them to serve in caring for high risk pregnancies and births. They’re great to have around during true emergencies

I also learned that yes, they are indeed human. I cannot rely on them 100%. They do make mistakes and I have to be on my toes and hopefully, between the whole team of caregivers and my hubby and I, we can catch all of the mistakes or at least the major ones. If I were to do it over again, I would have mentioned immediately to the nurse that I had the nitroglycerin patches, just to make sure she was aware.

I learned that having a reliable support person is crucial. If my hubby had not been there to stop them, they would have done the cesarean and I probably would have died on the table. My baby also would have been born a 28 week preemie and likely had problems because of it. Because of my hubby, I am still alive and our baby stayed on the inside for 13.5 more crucial weeks necessary for his development. Also, Hubby was the one that remembered that I had the patches. I was in such a fog of fear for my baby and being in a strange place that I’d totally forgotten about them. Who knows how much longer they would have been on me, putting medication into my skin before I remembered or someone found them, and what affect that would have had on me?

Also, when he left when I was in labour, I fell apart. I vowed that I would have a doula there next time around as it was left to my mom to support me on her own and while she tried (and I REALLY appreciate her efforts!) it would have been better to have another person there as well.

I learned where (at least part of) my tax money goes. It went to paying the doctors, nurses, and paramedics who helped me. It paid for my medical care and for the ambulance transfer to the other hospital. It paid for the ultrasounds to make sure he was okay and for the steroid shots for his lungs. If the labour had not stopped, it would have paid for his NICU stay. In all of that, we did not pay a single cent out of pocket for all of that health care. We would have had to declare medical bankruptcy if we’d been in the states and may have made different decisions out of fear of the cost. I am so grateful that Canada has socialized medicine and can’t understand why any country that is a first world country would not want to take care of its citizens likewise, why they would leave their pregnant women and unborn children out in the cold so to speak. It’s disgusting. I’ll get off my soapbox now.

I learned NOT to go to the hospital when contractions are 5 minutes apart! I could have saved myself many, many trips if I’d waited until they were 3 minutes or less and I couldn’t talk during or between them.

I learned to be patient with my body and my baby. Had I not been induced, I believe I would have gone into labour very soon anyways. The ease of the induction (only one pill, no pit) makes me think that. I determined during #2’s pregnancy that as long as baby and I were healthy, I would wait until 43 weeks before inducing.

I learned that dilation is just a number and has very little to do with where you actually are in your labour. I went from 3cm to 7cm in 2 hours (3-5pm). I then stayed at 7cm for 7 hours (5pm-12am) and went from 7 cm to 10 with a lip in 15 minutes. Doctors like to see 1cm per hour when realistically, very few women labour that quickly (start to finish in 9-10 hours is fast!) and most women dilate in spurts. Just because you are not dilating does not mean that progress is not being made! You could be effacing (cervix getting thinner) or baby could be moving into a better position. Sometimes labour will stop altogether and you’ll get a nice little rest for 20-60 minutes or so before it ramps up again. Don’t stress about it, just take a nap and enjoy the break!

I learned afterwards that I have the right to refuse treatment from ANYONE whom I do not like. This means mister fat-hairy-monkey fingers (who was reported afterwards by the way, as were the nurses who kept pressuring me to accept drugs). I learned that I can refuse to have students present, or at least insist that they are introduced to me and that I approve of their presence before they are allowed to be there.

I learned that there is a whole spectrum of nurses. Some are some wonderful, doula-like nurses, like Anna and Anne. Then there are some nurses who have no business being in the maternity ward, nurses who push drugs harder than a street cocaine vendor and have no respect for how God created women’s bodies.

I learned that MY dedication to my goal is directly related to my chances of achieving that goal. I can’t just say “I’d like to have a natural birth” and then leave it all to my caregivers. I have to know exactly what my goal is and what I need to do to get there and then make sure that my caregivers follow my wishes (and fire them if they don’t). This is NOT to say that if someone did not achieve their goal that they were not dedicated enough to it. I know a few women who were very dedicated to having a natural homebirth who ended up with emergency cesareans for various legitimate reasons. What I mean is, I can’t just wish for a natural birth and get it – just as an athlete cannot wish to complete a marathon, do no preparation, and expect that her support people will make up the difference. If she is truly dedicated to her goal, she will learn as much as she can about the marathon, exercise beforehand, make sure she is healthy, strong, and well-rested at the beginning of the marathon. Likewise, I took a natural childbirth class, exercised regularly, and got a good night’s sleep the night before my induction.

I learned that my body will listen to me, and my mom too. When we told my body to keep the baby in, it did. When she told my body to let the baby out, it did. Not that this will always work, but it can’t hurt!

I learned to trust my instinct and not abdicate my decisions to others. I had wanted to homebirth but let my mom talk me out of it. She said that hospitals had improved drastically since she chose to have me at home and had they been then like they are now, she would have had me in the hospital. Fair enough, that would have been her choice, however, I wish I would have stood by my wishes. I didn’t even do any research into it which I feel so silly about now because I now research EVERY minute decision when it comes to my kids.

I learned that hospitals are not a nice place to be. They’re loud, bright, cold, and strange. Nurses come in and wake you up during the night to take your vitals. There’s no way to get food at 1 am when you’ve just birthed and are absolutely starving. There are NO PILLOWS!!! Or at least not nearly enough. What they call blankets are little more than a sheet. The one redeeming quality is that my parents paid for a private room for us so we stayed in one room the entire time once we were checked in. Not having to transfer to a postpartum room was awesome.

I was surprised to learn that breastfeeding could be easy! Five took to it like a pro and I felt like he taught me how to breastfeed, he was so good at it. I was all prepared to seek out help if needed but it was unnecessary.

I was surprised how much a new baby sleeps in the first 1-2 days! It’s nearly constant. Literally just “eat, sleep, poo.” Perhaps this was related to the drugs I had during the labour though, as baby #2 slept for a few hours and then was WIDE AWAKE while I was still expecting that he’d sleep and I’d get a rest. Grr.

I learned just how crazy a sleep-deprived mama could be. I had a breakdown in the middle of a shopping mall at 2 weeks postpartum when Hubby caused a few wipes to fall out of the wipes case onto the ground. My mom went and bought me a whole new package of wipes and I felt terrible for having lost it. I always feel a lot better after I’ve caught up on sleep. It took about 6 months for me to feel like a human being again after #1 was born."

Choosing Your Birth Place: One Mother's Experience

If you follow the blog you have probably noticed that I really try to focus on positive birth stories because there is so much negativity surrounding birth. Lately however, I have wanted to share some birth stories that "teach" even though they aren't all roses. This is a great example of how important birth place choices are and how advocating for yourself and having supportive people around you can make such a difference. It is heartbreaking to me that women have to fight to birth how they wish and that care providers can be so disrespectful to a birthing woman at such a vulnerable time.

Thanks for reading! Hope it is helpful.

"We took Bradley classes just outside of Dallas. They went really well and even though I was admittedly scared, we felt ready. Though our instructor encouraged us to find a midwife and switch to a birthing center, we decided to stay with our OB, get a doula and have a strong birth plan. We really thought that would be enough but we were very wrong.

I went into labor at 2:16 AM as my water broke. My contractions started almost exactly one hour later and were 3 minutes apart for the next 7 hours. My husband and I stayed home and tried different positions, doing whatever we could to help me get through the contractions. We never did play the music we planned to play or do any special massage techniques, he just held me through the pain and it felt right. During this time we were in constant contact with our doula, but we were doing so well at home we didn’t feel like we needed any help. It was going so perfectly well and I was surprisingly calm.

At about 7am I started feeling like I was going to throw up and when I ran into the bathroom, even more water rushed out of me. We both looked at each other and decided to head to the hospital, where we would meet our doula. When we got to the hospital, despite having “pre-registered” and obviously being very close to delivery, the staff insisted I sign paper work. I could barely stand at this point, but they made me sign. Finally they ushered me into delivery.

Once we got into the delivery room, we handed our birth plan to the nurse. She was actually supportive of our plans, but the rest of the staff was not. My husband fought them off as they nearly shot me with pitocin on multiple occasions. We did not want an IV or fetal monitoring but somehow they managed to tangle me up in wires. As I tried moving around to stay comfortable, I literally got trapped in the cords. It was terrible! During all this, an anesthesiologist came in to get me to sign even more paperwork, just in case I eventually needed surgery. At one point a nurse tried holding me down during a contraction so that she could talk to me and try to hook me to an IV. I remember screaming “please get her off me!!” It is sad, but the second we got to the hospital our entire peaceful birth went out of control.

At about 10am I started pushing. My little angel was sideways and struggling to come out. The OB who was covering for my regular doctor, who was on vacation, made an appearance about 30 minutes into my pushing. She yelled at me for screaming, yelled at me for risking my baby’s life by not having an epidural, and yelled at my husband to get off me and leave me alone. She then proceeded to tell me that if I didn’t have that baby in 15 minutes, I was getting a C section. Apparently she didn’t understand pushing a baby out sideways wasn’t easy. After she walked out, the delivery nurse told me I was doing great and gave me a position to try to get the baby to turn. It worked and 15 minutes later she was in my arms!

Unfortunately, the story doesn’t end there. As I was being handed my daughter, my doula noticed a nurse about to stick me with pitocin to get the placenta out. My husband was distracted, arguing with the OB about not cutting the cord until it finished pulsing. Luckily our doula got his attention and he stopped the injection! The OB continued arguing that if I wasn’t induced for the afterbirth, I would bleed to death. He tells me within a minute of the cord stopping to pulse, my placenta was delivered. I never felt it; luckily I was given the opportunity to have skin to skin with my baby for hours after I delivered and I was concentrating on her.

My birth was wonderful, but the hospital intervention attempts made it more stressful than it should have been for my husband and I. We now know that giving birth in a hospital is too risky for our next baby. We aren’t sure if we will do a home birth, but we talk about it. It is so sad that the medical community tried to make us feel we were doing something wrong to our daughter by birthing her free of drugs and interventions. If we hadn’t taken the time to educate and empower ourselves, I probably would have had a C section. And I didn’t even push for an hour!

I hope my story helps someone who is on the fence about switching from their OB and hospital. We really thought we wouldn't have any problems, but the medical community just doesn't know how to handle birthing without drugs. It is much too rare and they obviously find it threatening. We are lucky everything went just right!

Thank you for letting me share!"

39 Week Inducion- One Mother's Experience

Sometimes people ask about the dangers of non-medically needed induction just prior to 40 weeks. Here is the experience one mother had. It illustrates and breaks down some common things that can happen with induction and she allowed me to share it here-

Hope it is helpful-

"I was induced at 39 weeks with my now two-year-old daughter. At the time, I was just sick of being pregnant and agreed. I am seven months pregnant now and will not be induced. Pros? I don't have any. Cons:

1. Two full days in the hospital- one for cervix-ripening, the next for Pitocin an labor. No eating in those 48 hours.

2. My hospital did not use gel to dilate. They used Cytotec, a drug I had never heard of but now know has been linked to deaths of babies. The manufacturer recommends that it not be used for dilation. But I had three doses against my cervix. We don't even have to talk about how invasive it is to have them keep trying to put a tiny pill against your cervix. It really hurt.

3. Pitocin contractions are more painful than regular, plus they dampen your endorphins, keeping your body from being able to combat pain. These were painful contractions for me.

4. Pitocin contractions can be intense enough to actually up the risk of the baby pooping in utero. This did happen with my daughter. My water was green when they broke it. So when she was born, they had to clean he airways for a long time and I couldn't hold her. Besides, there's real danger in the event that they breathe the meconium.

5. I had an epidural, something I could have done without, I think, without Pitocin.

6. My epidural worked for four hours, then wore off as I was in transition. But, even though I was in pain, I still had to push on my back. This led to three solid hours of pushing. If I could have pushed in another position, I could have avoided the vacuum extraction that hurt her head and made her cry whenever we moved or adjusted her.

7. Breastfeeding was awful, and I couldn't get it to work. Her head hurt and that made it hard to position her. The IV fluids can make it hard for the baby to nurse. Also, a baby born before they are ready can have an uncoordinated suck-swallow reflex, which would explain why she would latch but wouldn't suck more than one time. The tube they cleaned her airways with because of the meconium can cause sorethroats and can also explain why she was reluctant to suck. We never did get her to suck- the bottle drips, so that was easier for her.

8. If I wasn't induced, I wouldn't have been attached to much, but while I was pushing for three hours, these things were attached to or inserted in my body- an IV in my hand, the continuous fetal monitor on my belly, the epidural in my back, the blood pressure cuff, the catheter and the amnio infusion tube pumping water into the uterus to clean out meconium. There was no freedom of movement for me, which I found really hard.

All of these things were caused because I was over being pregnant. This time, I'm taking control an letting her be born when she's ready- not a moment before. I am ready for a better experience. Believe me- it's not worth it!!!"

Birth Story- Natural Birth Center Birth After Two Hospital Births

I love this birth story! It is great to see women have a triumphant unmedicated birth after two medicated births and the joy and satisfaction it brings them. And a big baby to boot!

Enjoy!

At 3:00am, on March 16th, a strong contraction pulled me out of sleep. I lay in the dark, tried to go back to sleep, when another hit. I decided to get up. I got a drink of water, and took some of my labor prep herbs. The contractions were very, very strong, and very close together.

After an hour, I woke up my husband, and got in the shower. At 5am, we called our midwife (at this point my contractions had been 3-5 minutes apart for 2 hours.) As soon as I get off the phone, my contractions stopped dead. I was so frustrated, but felt very tired, so I went back to sleep.

At around 6, the contractions started again, but I managed to sleep between them for the next hour.

At 7, I got up and told my 6 year old son that he was right, his sister was coming today! (The night before, he told me she'd come tomorrow.) I got breakfast for him and his 2 year old sister.

At 8, I made myself and my husband some scrambled eggs and toast, and we called my parents to tell them to head over soon.

When they got here, we loaded up the car, called the birth center to let them know we'd be dropping in to get my 1st round of antibiotics (GBS+), and then I'd head over to my chiropractor's office to get one last adjustment.

We got to the birth center, and my midwife checked me. A stretchy 8 cm! I was in shock, I thought, at best, I'd be at 3 cm. We ran over to the chiropractor's, and she put me on the roller table. I had a contraction, and I'm trapped on my back, and it was the WORST contraction I had the entire labor. No wonder I always got the epidural before, trapped on a hospital bed!

We got back to the birth center, and we filled up the birth tub. I got in, and after two contractions, I decided a water birth was NOT going to happen. I could handle my contractions MUCH better standing and swaying than in the tub.

Things really began to pick up, and I found myself vocalizing to get through each contraction. I didn't want to be touched while having a contraction, because it pulled me away from wherever I was inside myself. My husband was great. He stood by my side and talked to me between contractions, which was exactly what I needed from him.

I decided I wanted to be outside, because the weather was beautiful. I stood, braced against a palm tree, moaning lowly through a few contractions, then stood against the wall of the birth center. The sunshine and gentle breeze felt wonderful. I noticed I was getting louder with my vocalizations, and wanted to be inside, away from any curious passers-by.

I had my blood pressure checked, and we listened to the baby's heart rate on the doppler. Everything was good. I was feeling a little nauseous with each contraction, and knew it wouldn't be much longer. It was time to get into a birthing position. I chose to climb on the bed, on my knees, leaning over a birth ball. But the ball wasn't allowing me the freedom of movement I needed then, so we replaced the ball with a stack of pillows.

My husband crouched near-by, and my doula whispered encouragement and reminders to keep my vocalizations low to help move the baby down.

Suddenly, as I moaned through a contraction, I felt my body begin to push. "I'm pushing!" I gasped. It took me a few contractions, but I finally realized how to work with that urge to push, and pushing felt GOOD. To not be pushing was pain, so I was pushing and pushing as long and as hard as I could. Between contractions, I was shaking my head, not to say "no," but to clear my head and get ready for the next wave.

Finally, I felt the burn, and I knew I her head was beginning to come out. My amniotic sack was still intact, and they could see meconium staining in the fluid. I pushed through the burning, and her head was OUT! I reached down and touched my daughter's head, and I could feel all her hair! My midwife opened the sack and tried to suction the baby a little (I think, there was a lot going on), but the baby was having none of it. My big fat baby's shoulders did not want to come out, and my midwife had to help. And then, pop! She was out!

My midwife turned her around and slide her between my legs. I grabbed my new little daughter and picked her up. I'd done it! After two hospital births with epidurals, I had a natural birth with my BIGGEST baby by far. 9 lbs, 14 oz! (My son was 8lbs, 8 oz, and my first daughter was 7 lbs, 5 oz.) I felt amazing!

My chiropractor came by, and adjusted my brand-new baby right there on the birthing bed, a few feet away from me.

And as an added bonus, our childbirth class teacher was setting up for a class and just happened to be there, too. She got to see that I passed the final. :)

Unfortunately, my baby's big shoulders did some damage on the way out (due to scar tissue I had from an episiotomy I'd had with my first), and I ended up with a 4th degree tear. I needed to transfer to the hospital to be surgically repaired.

Luckily, my midwife was able to get me a direct admit, and a short ambulance ride later (with my husband and new baby daughter following behind in the car), I arrived at the hospital. (We actually waited a few hours after the birth to call the ambulance, it wasn't an emergency ride, no flashing lights or speeding.)

I got patched up, and then we were on our way home. We got home at 12:30am, exactly 12 hours after first arriving at the birth center!

Out of all of my births, this was the best (although I always loved the outcome, anyway.) I'm so proud of myself! I still can't believe I did it!

My blog : http://diaryofalowmilksupplymama.blogspot.com/

I Am Uncomfortable

As I have come closer to the end of this pregnancy I realize I just don't have much to say. Maybe it is harder to give advice, council and thoughts on birth when your own birth is looming ever presently on the horizon. Maybe the preparations for said birth take up too much time and thought to think much about trivial things like a blog. Maybe I realize that this is also just not a time of life where I can handle much negative feedback or criticism, which makes blogging a little scary.

So, no advice today, just my own thoughts on how I will possibly make it through this.

I admit to being scared. I have given birth three times without medications. I have "taught" (as much as you could ever endeavor to do such a thing) dozens of couples how to do the same. And yet, as I approach my own "due date" I am worried.

Each birth is so different. And, though there are things I know about birth and about myself now that I didn't know with my first, there are still fears. There is still an unknown element. How will it go? What will it feel like? How long will it take? Will I be able to handle it? And that is just the beginning! When I start thinking about life AFTER the birth, with a new baby....it just boggles my mind. People have been telling me for months that I am going to have my hands full, and now I am starting to panic (just a little, mind you) because I don't KNOW how I am going to handle it.

~

Somebody asked me the other day why I looked so "uncomfortable" or something along those lines.

Seriously?

I have gained about 50 pounds. I have a human head lodged in my pelvis. I honestly have not slept that well in about seven years and I am (despite my protests) no longer in my 20's. Yes, I am a little uncomfortable.

Last week I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I had poison oak all over my arms, bronchitis (again) and all of a sudden it felt like this baby was taking a nose dive towards the outside world.

(I actually have a theory about this. I really believe that you only go into labor when you are so uncomfortable that you are actually willing to go through the intensity of childbirth. And then your body makes you wait another week or two so that you are REALLY ready. It seems that mother nature has a sense of humour. Isn't the natural process beautiful?!)

Despite all that though, I know that pregnancy is wonderful. In the moments where I manage to step outside myself and my own self pity, (yes, it does happen) I realize how blessed I am. I am so grateful to have my children. I am grateful for this new baby, despite my fears about my actual ability to be good mom. I am grateful to be able to bring life into the world.

This is really a pretty amazing thing, isn't it? A true everyday miracle, played out in my own body.

So, to those who think I look like I am "about to pop" or "have twins" or who think I "really look miserable," I must say this:

I have moments of misery- yes. There will be more in the next few weeks. I prefer the term uncomfortable though, because people telling me I look miserable has the unique side effect of actually making me feel more miserable. But overall I am happy, grateful and blessed. I am TRYING to recognize the good in this and see the miracle. Yes, sometimes it seems that that "miracle" must be located on the underside of my belly and is thus impossible to see without a strategically placed mirror- but it is still there.

Be patient with me and my body and my moods and the unknown timing of birth and babies and creation. I will appreciate it.

" Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women." Sheri Dew

If You Want To Make a Million Dollars Off of Pregnant Women....

You may have heard that while climbing into my car today the front of my maternity pants tore wide open. No, I have not worn them for all four pregnancies, but I did get them second hand so there is a possibility that the fabric was weak. Maybe the last person who used them really liked bleach.....One can only hope for some kind of excuse.

So, as I reveled in both the humiliation (because, yes, I busted out of maternity clothes), gratitude (I was at my last stop for the day), and the humor (because even I can see that this is pretty dang funny) I started to think of some great ideas for the entrepreneur out there who would like to make some money off of pregnant women.

~Make maternity clothes a size bigger than they say they are.~

Were you told when you first got pregnant that you should buy maternity clothes in the same size that you normally wore? I was. This may work for some women. But as it turns out, I am at least a few sizes bigger than my normal even in maternity clothes by the end of my pregnancy. This does NOT work for me. It might work for women who gain 20 pounds that is all confined to their stomach. (Don't they get chubby knees!? I can't be the only one this happens to!)

It would however, make me FEEL better if my maternity clothes still said SMALL even if they were in fact LARGE. Whoever did this could also save a ton of money on tags and labeling because you would just need one tag for everything.

In fact, just get rid of the size altogether and label everything "Beautifully round and fertile." I know, I am wasting my talents on blogging and natural birth education when I should be in marketing!

~Make the muu muu stylish.~

You know, I would really appreciate it if somebody in some awesome marketing team had the power to actually make muu muus stylish, hip and sexy.

I have a dress that my whole family teases me about. It is shaped like a sack. It is long and wide and it happens to have a giant peacock embroidered on the front of it. My son calls it my "pregnant dress" and my husband thinks it is hideous.

It is however the most comfortable thing I have ever worn and it even worked for my last two pregnancies (one due in July--in Dallas--- and the other in August) which says something. Despite how much I love it I can't really wear it out of the house because it is pretty awful. But oh, how I wish I could....

~LONG Maternity Shirts~

These probably exist somewhere out there in the void, I think I had some for my last pregnancy but they are gone. Now, my "maternity" shirts leave about three inches of belly hanging out at the bottom of them.

There was a time when I wore halter tops. Now is not one of those times. Nor will I ever wear another halter top (for various reasons). But I really don't need my stomach hanging out over my pants right now. I am not even tall! I know I am not the only woman who has trouble with this.

So- maternity shirts that are stretchy and fully cover the belly would be great. As a side note, this would also cover the back of me and prevent plumber's crack. An added bonus.

~Cute, comfortable and WIDE shoes~

I was at a church function the other day and I was wearing some heels (well, strappy stacked sandal type heels) and somebody said that I looked "miserable."

That was actually NOT the look I was going for. I was just trying to look nice! I put on a skirt. I left my flip flops and Birkenstocks at home. But, I will admit, that it was decidedly awkward to wear heels at eight months gestation and even more so when I have a 20 month old who finds it absolutely hilarious to run away from me in (can you believe somebody did this) a CIRCULAR hallway.

So- though I love my grimy, old, survived three pregnancies, flip flops, some comfy, cute and not-miserable looking shoes would be fantastic. Oh- and they need to be cheap.

~~~

I am sure I could think of a few more things awesome inventions for pregnant women (cheesecake that doesn't make you feel guilty but doesn't have weird chemicals in it, little men who painted your toe nails for you, and trolls who could always catch up with a two year old darting down the street) but I will stop for now and put my feet up.

Hoping you find some fun in your pregnancy too-