Birth Story!- An Induction

Well, if you read the blog often you will be surprised that I am posting an induction birth story. But- I think it is a really great birth story and there are a few reasons I wanted to share it. One- it is from a student of mine and their birth stories are always very special to me. Another is that I was talking to the mom through this process and felt a lot of anxiety right along with her.

But the last reason I wanted to share this story is the most important- this mama listened to her intuition. She did not just listen to fear on either side of the issue.
I am a huge critic of induction. In fact, I think it is one of the biggest problems in obstetrics right now. But I also recognize that on occasion it is necessary.

Another thing that we have discounted in our quest for medical perfection is the innate power of female intuition and what a mama KNOWS that nobody else does. It is also important for us to remember that it is not our place to judge another woman's birth choices. We can not know what they felt was right for them or why.

It can be really hard to tune into that intuition when we are surrounded by fear and opinions on every side. I am so happy for this mama that she did what was right for her and her baby and had a great birth that she was happy with. Enjoy!

~

Eli’s Coming…

After weeks of doctors trying to convince us to induce labor because of some of my pre-eclampsia symptoms, we decided we would give in to their requests. We had been praying, along with so many friends, that we would not have to get induced due to the increased rate of cesarean section and intervention that comes along with it. We had been praying so much for God’s timing and for us to be okay and comfortable with the labor no matter how it happened. We finally felt comfort in heeding their warnings and taking their advice to induce labor on September 1^st.

We checked into the hospital around 4pm and found our way into a labor and delivery room by dinner time. It was some kind of pot roast which smelled and sounded good at the time but made me want to throw up later. We decided to try a foley bulb induction as opposed to a hormone cervix ripening which usually requires more pitocin.

I have to admit that one of the reasons I wanted to do the foley bulb was to avoid getting an IV, which is hilarious considering what happened later. The funny thing about the foley bulb induction was that none of the nurses had ever done one before and we had to wait for someone who had ever (though not recently or often) done one.

This was a slightly less than comforting thought. So we had to wait for the doctor to come in so we just sat in the room for an hour or so. After an hour, I got hooked up to the fetal monitor and awhile after that a lab tech came in to give me a “saline lock” IV (A.K.A. my worst nightmare). It took her awhile to decide where to put it but the numbing thing she stuck me with hurt more than the IV, which I found out later was only because of the numbing stuff.

Finally,the on-call doctor came in to do the foley bulb along with four nurses who were there more for curiosity sake than to help. They seemed afraid to fill the bulb all the way. The doctor told me to say when I wanted them to stop filling it, when it was no longer comfortable. I did not expect the procedure to be comfortable and I really wanted it to work so I let them fill it all the way up, they seemed shocked that I was okay with it. It wasn’t that uncomfortable. The nurse told me to let her know if I got uncomfortable and she would come in to check on me later. So, we were just waiting for the foley bulb to start working.

After a few hours, I started have noticeable (what I thought were) contractions. The nurse would come in and look at the fetal monitor and tell me it was probably just cramping caused by the foley bulb because it did not show up very strong on the monitor. I was a little discouraged but kept on plugging along. We had our dim lights and quiet atmosphere. We were completely left alone for a long time which was fine with me.

Chris applied pressure to my lower back during these “cramps” and I did my relaxation and felt pretty good about them. Some time during the middle of the night I got up to use the restroom and the foley bulb came out. I wasn’t sure if I messed it up or if I was really dilated enough for it to come out on its own. The nurse came in and I told her it came out so the midwife checked and I was 5cm dilated, which we felt pretty good about.

They left us alone again and we continued our routine. I started out sleeping in between the contractions but it always hurt more when they woke me up because I would tense up before I awoke completely. So, I tried to stay awake but I let Chris sleep because I could handle these “cramps” alone and I thought we could be there for days and he needed sleep.

After awhile I woke him up and asked him to time the contractions because I felt like there was no time in between. When he did, they were 5 minutes long, peaked at 60 seconds and there was almost no time in between. I thought that was a little weird. Around then our nurse came in and said they weren’t sure still if these were contractions and she wanted to increase the pitocin from the smallest amount to the next increment. I told her that if I was only feeling cramps and the pitocin would give me contractions on top of the cramps, I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

Finally we decided to go with it and a little bit later they brought the midwife it to check me. She said I was 9 cm dilated. Chris and I looked at each other like, “What?!” He asked, “So does that mean she is in transition?” She answered, “No, she’s complete.” We couldn’t believe we had made it through transition without even realizing it, without any of the emotions we expected during that time!

The midwife asked me if I wanted her to break the bag of waters to get things moving and we said no and then it broke immediately. Right then, she was called into an emergency c-section and the nurse told me to wait before I started pushing. All of a sudden my body started pushing without asking me.

It was like forceful vomiting, it was completely involuntary. I wanted to wait for the midwife (sort of), but I couldn’t. I didn’t add any of my own effort to what my body was doing. I felt relief from the discomfort of what we now know were contractions (even though the monitor never picked them up).

Finally, the midwife came back and it was serious pushing time. She did warm water and oil treatments on my perineum which really put my mind at ease about pushing. I felt like the entire 2^nd stage was about ten minutes and five pushes but Chris assures me it was more.

On the second to last push the midwife said he had an arm coming out with his head and I really had to get him out so I pushed harder the next time and he was out. He was born at 9:57am on September 2^nd. They suctioned out his nose and mouth and gave him to me. He was squirmy and sticky and beautiful. I forgot all about everything and fell completely in love with the beautiful angel on my belly. I tried to breastfeed while they were stitching me up but I was lying down and it was an awkward angle. He was wide-eyed and looking all over, but mostly in my eyes. I cared nothing about what previously scared me to death (having to be sewn up), I could only think about our little Eli and how he was finally in my arms.

7 Things I Tell Myself When I Realize I Am 30+ & Breeding Like Mad

It is obvious that I am obsessed with the fact that I am taking a nose dive into my thirties. There is so much pressure to be "important" (read: educated, published, career motivated, wealthy and famous) that choosing the path of "just motherhood" somehow seems lesser, and it is more and more apparent as I edge through my 30's. It is especially grating when I see other people my age who have are far more traveled, educated, and fancy free than I am.

I admit, despite all my talk of motherhood being a feminist statement, I am not immune to pressures of society. I did not think that the most important thing I would be doing with my life as I hurled past 30 would be wiping noses, comforting tears, and doing dishes (by hand no less!). And yet, here I am.

Here are some of the things that I must remind myself of sometimes when I start feeling dissatisfied with the fantastic calling of young motherhood.

1) Some things keep- Ovaries are not one of these things. My chance to procreate easily is now, not in 10 years. And I wouldn't trade it for a degree that I CAN get later.

2) Money-schmuney- True, being broke royally blows. That being said, I would not trade the every day mundane moments for more money so I could work outside my home. Nor do I regret not being able to give my kids everything they want or even need because I had them younger and while struggling through school and new businesses. It is hard enough WITHOUT money to raise kind, grateful, and humble kids. The truth is, they (kids) don't really notice. Plus, I am constantly amazed at the generosity of others and the kindnesses that they are prompted to pour out towards my family.

3) Energy- My mom always said that she had less energy with her last that came at the beginning of her 40's than with her first. I personally cannot IMAGINE having less energy than I have right now. I am banking on relative youth being a bonus when chasing after so many little ones.

4) Wait, I am famous!- Sure, I wanted to have been published by this point in my life. That has not happened (unless self publishing on blogger counts.... um mm no.......) I might not be a famous writer, but every time I take three kids out to the grocery store I AM famous! Apparently I am one of the only people on earth who dares have three kids 5 and under! Look at me! Tell me my hands are full! Go ahead, you know you want to.

5) Hey- my life IS AWESOME!- I remember not wanting to have kids until I had done something important, like traveled the world, learned another language (I can translate three year old though) or sat in an Oprah audience. And, then, I just started having them at 25 while I had a kick-butt (haha) career as a bakery manager. Guess what- being a mom is way better than that. And as an added bonus, I discovered the wonders of natural childbirth and my other passion in life- teaching other new families about it. I can't imagine waiting longer to "find myself" when what really helped me find myself and find my passions was HAVING kids. Before I was spinning my wheels, now I have a real purpose.

6) I snagged a husband when I looked good- True story, I wish I had gone bra-less more when the sisters held themselves up without help. But, you can't regret what you didn't know at the time. That being said, I got married at the crazy age of 20 (and barley). Everybody thought it was a bad idea. In fact, I have sometimes thought it was a bad idea. But, I did it. And, even though sometimes there is nobody else I would rather drop kick, we have helped each other grow into better adults. We have pushed each other and given each other confidence and help when we needed it. Plus, my wedding dress was a size SIX! Don't know if I could do that now.

7) Contrary to popular belief, life does not end at 30!- We focus on youth a lot in our culture. We like to plant those wild oats and have fun and get things done before the 30th birthday and all resulting implosion of fun occours. Guess what though, life doesn't end at 30. It keeps on going on, with the added bonus being that at this point, I actually know what is important and what I most want. Life may not end at 30, but stupidity tends to have a shelf life that expires in your twenties.

The take home message I want to remember when I start to feel inferior and unimportant- life is good, and don't ever forget it.

Peace and joy in your journey through motherhood, no matter what your age.

Tricycles, Bumpy Roads, & Keeping the Faith

-Tricycles-

I went on a short walk with my three kids the other night. My five year old rode his new bike, my three year old rode her tricycle, and the baby was in the stroller which I pushed. The walk was down the street and then back up to our house which is a slight but long hill.

As soon as we started on the way home, sweet girl, aged three, started crying, whining and complaining about how much she HATED the bumpy road.

By the time we made the turn to go up the hill, she was really mad and really crying.

"Carry me!" she says.

"You chose to ride your bike, you need to ride it. Going up the hill will make you stronger when you are bigger. And, mama is already pushing the stroller and she can't carry your tricycle," says mama (appearing quite mean to said three year old).

Mama of course helped push the bike, gave many words of encouragement but would not do the work for her. Sometimes mamas know that little girls need to feel how good it feels to do something they think is hard. Mamas know that you get strong enough to ride a two wheel bike by practicing on a tricycle. And mamas know that a wise mama does not do everything for her babies.

-Keeping the Faith-

Maybe the last six years of sleep deprivation, watching hubby go through graduate school, and all the accompanying worry about how we will eat our next meal have started to wear me out. I like to think I am strong and faithful in my devotion to the Lord.

But lately, I have just felt a little bit overwhelmed, under appreciated, stretched thin, and basically negative about life in general.

I cried myself to sleep the other night wondering why my burden would not be lifted from my shoulders. I was listening to my 15 month old cry in the next room. I was so tired. She was inconsolable. She has never slept well. She doesn't sleep well with us. She doesn't sleep well in her own bed. She just doesn't sleep. Something is always bothering her. I had had enough. I just prayed that this one night I could get a good nights rest. And you know what. I didn't. (This is not an invitation for advice please.)

I asked for something and once again, I did not get it. I didn't think it was an unreasonable request. One good nights sleep. I am honestly TRYING every day to be a good mom. I am trying to do all the things that I believe I should be doing with my life. But when I asked for something I did not get it.

It was so little and so stupid but it really shook my faith. Why could I not have what I wanted, in fact, what I really was sure I NEEDED because I could not take it any more?

I know, I sound like a spoiled three year old myself! I can step back and see that. But, there, in the worn out, sleep deprived, so tired of stress about money, and so tired from trying so hard for what seems like so little, I threw a temper tantrum in my head. It made me question for days and days all that I felt sure of in life.

-Bumpy Roads-

Watching my three year old cry and whine because she didn't get her way when she was SURE she couldn't go on any more was a wake up call. She was tired. She didn't want to go on. She was sure she could not go on. She, in her little girl state of mind saw no value in pushing herself through something that was painful and hard and was for sure, a bumpy road.

"I HATE BUMPY ROADS MAMA!" was all she would say.

"I did not make the road bumpy baby, but you can do it," was all I could say to her.

Motherhood teaches us life's most difficult but necessary lessons. It is a hard calling. And life is often a bumpy road. Like children we don't always see the end from the beginning. Like children we are sometimes totally unaware of our capabilities and our needs. And like children, sometimes, when the road is at it's longest and most bumpy, we must continue to keep the faith and trust someone who does know the end from the beginning. It is the most tempting time to walk away, to lose faith, and to get angry, but it is when it is most important to do just the opposite.

Here is hoping you handle life's bumpy and long roads with more grace and dignity and faith than I. Here is hoping we can learn from our children the lessons that we most desperately need. And here is hoping I can step back and keep the faith.

What To Get Your Favorite Housewife For Her Birthday

It is that time of year again for me. And so, for all those concerned parties, here are a few ideas. They might work for your favorite stay at home mother to young children too.

~A Dishwasher~
-Note: don't get her one of those cheap dishwashers into which you must place already clean dishes. She needs one that you can put an entire cake into and yet, an hour later everything is sparkling and clean. That is a dishwasher.

~When somebody asks her how old she is turning and she says 29 (again) don't laugh, roll your eyes or smirk. Say with a straight face, "Oh, I would have guessed 25."~
-This is a great present and it has the bonus of being free and making her love you forever. The only hard part is the whole doing it without laughing thing.

~An entire day during which she does not have to cook or clean.~
-Again, this one is easy in that it is free. The only hard part is that you will have to do the cooking and cleaning yourself, which may prove difficult. Especially if you value your sanity or a clean house and you are not used to the task.

~An entire day during which she does not have to touch feces.~
-I am not complaining about touching feces. It doesn't bother me any more. Still, it shows just how much you love her if you take the time to change all the diapers, clean the toilets, and clean up any "accidents". The only hard part is that it does seem that men have a stronger gag reflex when it comes to these things that a pregnant woman.

~A Date~
-She still likes you. She still wants to spend time with you. Sometimes she just is out of energy or patience. But- she will really enjoy and appreciate something as simple as a date, and if it includes dinner, she doesn't have to clean up or cook a meal either.

~A Bath~
-Simple, quite, clean, beautiful and relaxing. I would recommend that you clean the tub first (otherwise she will be looking for an old toothbrush to clean the grout the whole time and she won't be able to relax) and make sure that nobody bothers her or makes noise while she is in the bath. Also, a hot cup of herbal tea and a book will make a nice companion to the bath.

~No Parties~
-This might just be me, but I don't want to have to entertain and clean up after other people on my birthday. I don't mind doing it for everybody's birthday, that can be fun, but today, let's just relax.

~No Guilt Trips~
-Maybe your are blessed with one of those wives who gives you guilt trips and sometimes you return the favor. Today, forget about all her faults and mistakes and all of the birthdays of ours that she screwed up or forgot and just have fun together.

~Dessert~
Yes - she might complain about her weight, shape, etc. Doesn't matter, she still needs a treat on her birthday. Get one.

Birth Story- A Cabin Home Birth

I received this beautifully written home birth story recently from a doula. It is wonderful and inspiring. And check out her blog here with lots of other birth stories! One thing I love about this story is how the influence of somebody else's good home birth story changed her perception of birth.

Enjoy!

It is the morning of December 7th and I awake with the strange sensation of needing a toilet. I go into the bathroom and after sitting for what seems like forty-five minutes, nothing comes out. This series of events goes on for another hour until it hits me- I’m in labor. I go over to the green La-Z-Boy where my partner, Ray, is sleeping and I softly tell him what is going on. Immediately he jumps up from the recliner like a Jack-in the-box and I know that this day will be full of excitement. Unlike most women in labor, I will not be driven to a hospital. I will not be hooked up to any machines nor will my child ever see the inside of a hospital nursery. Instead, my baby will breathe her first breath in a log cabin under Cinderella Mountain in little Alberton, Montana.

The cabin was built in 1977 by close friends of Ray’s parents. Ray played in that house hundreds of times as a child without ever knowing his children would be born there someday. When Ray and I found out we were pregnant he suggested a home birth. I thought the whole idea was crazy, but I said I would be willing to look into it. You see, I grew up in New York where home birthing is virtually unheard of. I always imagined my child’s birth day to go something like this:

I awake in the middle of the night with contractions two minutes apart. My husband drives me to the hospital at full speed while I am screaming and cursing him for my current condition. After delivering my baby while lying on my back in a hospital bed, friends and family would look through a window at a sea of newborns until their eyes fell upon the baby with our last name written on his or her crib.

After doing a lot of research and talking to my mother-in-law, who had a very successful home birth with Ray’s brother, I realize it was everything I wanted and was meant to do. The idea of being in my own home away from the bright lights of a hospital and the invasive hands of nurses and doctors put me at ease. The day my labor begins I am able to put myself in a calm and peaceful state of mind as Ray and I go for walk to help the progression of labor. Down the long driveway and onto the dirt of Southside Road we stroll. Cars slowly drive past us and I can’t help but wonder if they know I’m in labor.

It wouldn’t be until four-twenty in the morning of December 8th that our daughter would be born. She came into the world with the glow of the wood stove welcoming her. The hour leading up to her birth was tough. I was lying on the couch and after going through some intense contractions for five hours I decide it was time to push. I push, groan, grunt and push some more. I don’t think I had ever concentrated on something so hard in my life. Ray is there next to me, holding my hand, wiping my face with a damp cloth, giving me words of encouragement. I fell in love with him all over again in those last forty minutes of pushing. Our little baby was perfect and from this point on it was no longer just Ray and I. Here was this tiny, innocent creature that was relying on us to keep her safe, to keep her happy and of course, to keep her healthy. What an incredible task this was to be, but from the first time I held our daughter, Georgia Pearl, I knew a mother was what I was meant to be.

Fast forward one year, four months, and eight days. It is April 16, 2008 and we are in the cabin. I am pregnant with our second child whose gender was to be surprise, like a gift waiting to be opened. We awake around eight o’clock in the morning to the sound of Georgia, now sixteen months old, singing in her bed. Ray carries her upstairs and we lounge around for a good while. I have a severe pain in my lower back and Ray rubs it for me, but the sting does not subside. I begin wondering if I am in labor, but since it is eleven days before the due date, I just go on as if nothing is wrong. As time passes I begin to have contractions. I call the midwife who tells me to time the contractions and call her back. Ray takes Georgia to her grandma’s house and I get everything prepared for the midwife’s arrival.

When Ray returns I ask him to make some spaghetti and meatballs, my favorite meal. The midwife arrives with all of her birthing supplies and begins to set them up. The house begins to smell of garlic and onions, tomatoes and Italian spices. Within seven hours of realizing I was in labor, our son, Shea Francis, was born. Within three minutes of his arrival the timer for the meatballs rang- rather appropriate if you ask me. When Shea was born I was leaning on the same couch his sister was born on sixteen months prior. After his birth I came to an honest realization- my life was officially complete. When it was just Ray and I, things were always uncertain. Our lives were spent in the wind- going here and there whenever we wanted; we were literally living a carefree life. After the birth of Georgia, I saw that a life of no responsibilities was one without fulfillment. Being relied on by another individual is something that should not be taken lightly, especially when that person did not ask to be brought into this world. Our children have become us. There are four members of our family, but we are one, solid unit. When Georgia and Shea laugh, we laugh. When they cry, we cry. When they are mad, we are mad. It is almost as if we are four people in one body. When one of us is not around, life does not seem complete.

Being a mother has brought the best out of me. People say they have a calling in life, and it is evident that mine is one of a mother; of a woman whose heart would not be beating quite as hard if she did not have the lives of two little angels to hold in her hands. Elizabeth Stone, a high school literature teacher and author, said it best, “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

The Myth of Better Hospital Birth- A History In Pictures

I always find it laughable when people talk about how much birth has improved through time and technology. "Birth was so dangerous before hospitals" is such a ridiculous statement. But one of the most moronic things of all is that we somehow think that women are better off now than they were during the era of twilight birth.

During the era of twilight birth women were so heavily medicated that they had to be tied down to prevent them from hurting themselves or others. They did not remember their births. They were not active participants of the birth. This was all done for the sake of pain relief.
The pictures are rare and disturbing.

And yet today we continue to function under the illusion that medicated hospital birth is now a much happier affair.

Again, the pictures tell a different story.

Again we see women unable to move. Again they are not active participants in their births. Again it is done for the sake of pain relief.


Or it is done for the sake of the baby. We can't trust our bodies to actually give birth safely. All those attending us must listen to the mechanical heart beat. The thing that is most tragic to me today is that we ASK to be tied down in labor. We are so afraid of he process and the pain that we don't even want to be active participants in the process.

An epidural is not a feminist statement.

A continuous fetal monitor won't save you from your birth.

Take back your power. Take back birth. Get off your back.

A Pregnancy and Birth Affirmation

My body has the divine ability to grow a perfect child within it.
Without conscious thought it builds an amazing organ, the placenta, to help grow and feed my baby.
My body and my baby tell me what healthy foods they need to function and grow.
I listen to their promptings.
As my baby grows my body changes.
I embrace the roundness,the curves, the fertility that shows the power within.
I welcome the softness of my breasts and abdomen and legs because it shows how perfectly I am preparing to grow and feed this baby.
I take time to slow down, rest, and care for my baby and my body without guilt, knowing that it is for the best.
As I get closer to the time of birth I enjoy the last few weeks and days with the baby inside me.
I love her close presence, her constant reminders she is there and her growth.
As I get heavier I look forward to the moment of birth, recognizing that my body gets less comfortable so that I will embrace what I once feared: labor.
I wait for the baby to grow until it is ready to meet me.
I know that this baby will come when it is ready.
I love being able to give my baby time to grow to her full potential.
I trust her time table.
As labor begins I embrace the next step on my journey to motherhood.
I am not afraid.
I am powerful.
I hear nothing else but my body and my baby as they tell me how to move and dance to make her entry more joyful.
I embrace the sensations.
They are strong, they are work, they are preparing me for motherhood.
I am not afraid.
I am powerful.
I feel my body open to let the baby out.
I feel the baby move down as my body helps her come to our family.
I accept what is overwhelming.
Giving in to my birth makes me more powerful.
I roar my baby out.
What seemed impossible is done.
It is more that perfect.
It is as close as I will get to the divine creative power.
I embrace the slippery, perfect child.
I am a mother.