If you’ve given birth in the last three years, please consider taking the survey. The survey is exceptionally detailed, so it took me a while, but you can save and return to it as you have time. I am impressed with the level of though that went into many questions, and that soon the information will be available nation wide to mothers and families who are trying to make educated choices about their maternity care. From their website:
“We believe that women of childbearing age must have access to information that will help them choose maternity care providers and institutions that are most compatible with their own philosophies and needs. We hope that the Transparency in Maternity Care Project will provide information that will help women make fully informed maternity care decisions.”
Me too.
Edited to add: This link to an amazing resource from the March of Dimes about the health of infants and mothers across the country. You can choose your state on the top left. So many of these stats are eye opening, and makes it all the more clear that being #29 safest place in the world (behind Cuba!) for mothers and babies is not good enough. Our children deserve better, and if mothers will not stand up for our health and that of our children, who will?
We had our last ‘official’ meeting with Cathy the midwife the other day, and she brought by the sweetest little book for Alice.
It’s this book from WA paper-cut artist Nikki McClure, and in a quick google search of her art, I found this baby book, which I am buying for Alice (and considering buying for Ella, and just going back and filling things in).
Cathy did Alice’s footprints at our first postpartum visit, and then wrote a sweet little birth story and blessing on the inside cover. It reminded me that I have still not posted Alice’s birth story here, and to tell you the truth it feels silly posting it now. She will be three months old on the 8th (how did that happen?) - is anyone still interested in reading about this? If anyone wants to pick my brain about it, I love talking about it, but it just feels weird to post the story on some arbitrary day, like “Hey, how’s it going, here’s a story about my vagina! one of the most important events in my life!”
Perhaps I will wait until her first birthday to post it.
During our visit with Cathy, I realized again how glad I am that we hired her, and that I took the time to get to know her. I’ve certainly never walked away from another medical relationship feeling like I’ve gained a friend and mentor, and I feel blessed that I stumbled on someone who is willing to be both. She inspires me to listen to that little voice in my gut that believes that women deserve the option to trust themselves. No, not everyone wants the kind of birth we had, and no, not everyone would be safe birthing at home. But why is it not an option- a real, attainable, accepted option - for those of us who do? Over the last year, I have been given the kind of care that women deserve, and seeing this kind of midwifery in practice makes me giddy about the prospect of offering this kind of care to other mothers.
So, I am doing research. I am comparing midwifery schools, trying to decide if being a CNM (and the years of nursing school) would be worth it, trying to envision how I could start this process in the next five years, with the end goal being finished in ten. So much (everything!) can change in the next few years, but right now this feels like the path I need to be on. Tom is behind me onebazillion percent, and kind of laughs every few months when I bring this up as if it is a new idea (”You know what I think I should do, once the girls are not so tiny?” “Look at ladies hoohas?” “Yup. “) but agreeing that it would be great, and actually finding a way to make it happen are two very different things. I can’t get serious about attending births until the girls are older, and financially, Tom should be the one to go back to school first to be able to use his degrees as more than wall hangings. But eventually, the girls are going to be able to wipe their own bums, Tom is going to be working in a career he loves, and I am going to be looking in the mirror asking “What’s next?”
Right now it’s either this, or writing that bestselling book of poetry.(Quick, how many of these do you own?)
Which is to say: it’s this.
Today is Tom’s last full day off work, which makes me all panicky, but it will be okay. Right? Right. Tom’s family lives a mile away and have already started signing up for shifts to come over and entertain Ella while I try and learn to juggle so it will be okay. Also, I know we have a number of wonderful friends here in town that I can call to come rescue me, so I just need to let go of this “I need to be Supermom” idea and take it all as it comes. It will be ooookay.
Ella is wonderful with Alice (who I still think of as Cricket most of the time) and if anything, loves her a little too much. Alice is going to have a bald spot from all the kisses I think. So far, the only tantrums we’ve had is when I ask her to please stop kissing the baby so that she can fall asleep.
My milk came in yesterday and so far *fingers crossed* engorgement hasn’t been an issue. Mind you, they are definitely full, but Alice hasn’t had a hard time latching on, and I haven’t sobbed while trying to express in the shower yet, both of which were markers of Ella’s first week of life. The only nursing related complaint I have is the OMG afterpains which always hit about 10 seconds after Alice latches on. Tom was surprised when I nearly cried yesterday from them, since I was able to smile through 90% of labor, but really - they are such a different kind of pain. OUCH.
I am healing really quickly, and have had to force myself to take it easy the last few days. I feel good, but know it will be easy to push myself too far and undo it all. I am on orders not to use the stairs, mostly out of principle - the laundry is the only thing I would really need to go down there for, and Cathy made it clear to Tom that I am on strict “TV, nursing and bon-bon eating” duty for two weeks. Reason # 9635 that I love my midwife. I didn’t tear at all (Reason # 9636 I love my midwife, btw) and my bleeding has been very minimal, which I am attributing to taking alfalfa tablets to boost my Vitamin K. The alfalfa is probably also one of the reasons I have already resumed normal bowel movements (oh shut up, everyone poos, we can talk about it) which was also a huge ordeal after Ella’s birth. I am sore, and a little swollen still, but I keep having to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days. I am allowed to be hobbly for a while.
It’s so strange having a small baby again. I managed to change both the girl’s diapers at the same time today (in my own little trial run of what that would be like - not bad as long as I can get Ella to stop hugging the baby every time I lay her down somewhere) and after wrestling Ella’s kid legs into a diaper and pants, Alice’s tiny chicken legs felt insanely small.
Small observations I don’t want to forget:
- Alice’s hair and eyes are darker than anyone expected, which makes me wonder if I really should have named her Sage, after the little dark-haired girl in my dreams.
- She shrieks like a cat, and seems pretty deliberate about it. She rarely fusses, just lets loose a wild shreik and then waits to see if anyone is going to rush to her rescue (Ella is always the first one there).
- She can be tricked into sitting in her bouncy chair or the boppy, but 5 minutes is considered a success right now. And of course if she is at ground level, it’s open season for sister-love.
- She doesn’t fit into any of her clothes yet - I wasn’t expecting such a small baby! Barely 7lbs! For an ‘overdue’ baby of a gestational diabetic, you would think she would be a bit bigger *eye roll*
I think they are definitely sisters… (Ella at 4 days old, Alice at 3 days old)
We are on our way to bed, but wanted to let you all know that we are so so so blessed - beyond words. Once labor really got going (around 9:30) there was no holding us back. Alice was born into the water after only a few pushes, and I caught her in my arms, which have never felt so powerful. She latched on like she’s been doing it for years, and nursed to sleep a few minutes ago, so I should go lay down with her - my daughter! Our Cricket is a girl! She also claimed her own birthday, which surprised us all.
My head is swimming with details, but for now, know we are resting and in good hands.
Ella’s entire labor was under 10 hours, and here I am 16 hours after this day started and am only now convinced that yeah - this is going to end in a baby. Holy crap.
We spent the day eating out, playing at the mall, making a birthday cake, and sitting in the hot tub (don’t worry, I am not boiling the toddler, the temp is barely at 99 f). After touching base with Cathy a few times, I finally asked her (or rather, Tom asked her because I can’t deal with phones right now) to start this way. She lives an hour away, so while i really hesitate to call her too early, i really REALLY hesitate calling her too late. She is amazing and will be as hands off as we ask her to be, but right now I like the idea of hands on. On my back especially since I think Cricket may still be posterior. Youch. I can’t sit or talk or type or keep my eyes open during the contractions now (and thus, it’s taken me at least 20 minutes to write this) but having Tom and Ella here makes all the difference. I think Ella will end up staying with us the entire time, even though grandma is on call (and anxiously waiting, I know). She will go to bed in a few hours, and that side of the house is pretty cut off from noise. I really feel good between contractions, and each time think “Oh, maybe I’m not in labor after all”. Ha. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
I can do anything for a minute.
I can freaking do this.
I AM doing this.
But I can’t believe I am posting this. Ha. Live blogging your birth? As hardcore as it gets. Or ridiculous. same thing?
Dear Cricket,
How strange that soon you will have a name. You will have a tiny face that we will all want to claim as our own, and perfect little fingers that will grasp at the air, searching for the only world you have ever known. Soon, you will take a breath, and I will hear your voice for the first time, though I feel like we have been having a conversation for months. Soon, the pain will make my jaw clench, my toes curl, and my throat raw, but with each deeply drawn breath I will picture you there, just beyond my touch, waiting for me to bring you into my arms. Soon. Soon.
I am so tempted to make you promises - that the world is a kind place, that I will always protect you and break your fall. That you will be happy. I want to make these things true, to somehow give you the kind of life that every child deserves - I want to promise that you will grow up to a person of compassion, of strength, and of humor - I want to promise that the struggles you have will have clear-cut lessons - I want to promise that it will always be easy to get back up, and that you will always heal. But I can not. What I can promise you is that when I meet you, I will hold you close to my chest and kiss your head. That I will never forget that moment.
Two years ago today I went into labor with your sister, and physically felt my entire body blossom in her presence. Soon, I will feel that same opening, of the soul and the skin, as we welcome you into our family.
Welcome little Alice, little Thomas.
We hope to meet you soon.
(Contractions all day, consistently 5-8 minutes apart, lots of bloody show and a very ready mama. We went and got some breakfast, walked around the mall for a few hours, and are home now, waiting to see if things pick up now that Ella is napping. I am so jealous of women whose water breaks - they KNOW they are in labor, or will be soon! I hate not knowing, wondering if this is just going to putter-out. Oh please do not let me be crying wolf. Then again OUCH OUCH OUCH I’ll just stay pregnant forever. Ouch!)
The second best thing about being overdue? Having an excuse to tell your very proper inlaws to “Shut up”. I’ve slipped twice in the last few days when they have called “Just to see…” and once even started the phrase with a very mature, very eloquent “Dude”. Also, I love that they assume we just won’t call when Cricket is born - they live a mile away from us, we have dinner with them at least once a week, we’re planning a birthday party for Ella this weekend, and they think we are just going to forget to call them? Show up to the birthday party and nonchalantly bring a baby? (Oh this old thing? I’ve had it for ages, but wasn’t sure if I was going to return it until today. I think it matches my eyes, so yeah.. I’ll keep it. You can borrow it sometime if you want…)
And because apparently being very pregnant also makes me very domestic, I made the kids more semi-matching hats.
Note to self: patterns are your friends. Consider using them.
Today is a lazy lazy day, and it is showing through in this post. I have a handful of things I actually wanted to write about (some of which have nothing to do with pregnancy, crafts or housework, I swear) but instead I think I am going to go curl up on the couch with Ella and work on the advent calender I still have not finished. Maybe THAT is what Cricket is waiting for…
Happy Due date to me,
I wish I lived in a tree,
because monkey’s don’t know,
when they are due.
(I can’t be bothered to rhyme. Give me a break.)
Today I am meditating (in between keeping Ella out of the china cabinet or drinking shampoo) on the ideas of perception and trust. I trust my body enough to carry this baby, to nourish this baby, to birth this baby, and to feed this baby once it is out; I trust this child to know instinctively how to make their way into this world; I trust my birth attendants, my husband, all the planning and research we have done - I’ve put a lot of trust out there into the world, which is perhaps what scares so many people about natural, out of hospital birth. Mind you, there is a lot more than trust going on here - we aren’t jumping out of the plane with just hope strapped to our backs - but as with most big events in our lives, we have to do all of our homework and then realize that we are not in control of everything. In a hospital, they are not in control of everything - we can not control the birthing body, and there is a wealth of research and information that ties the desire to control the birthing body to many of the most feared complications. But I’ve off track - this is not an argument for homebirth - this is just a plea for my mind to let go of this attachment to an arbitrary date. Why trusting that my body and child will know when to give birth is so hard, I’m not sure.
But that is where perception comes in; how I perceive this time between being mentally ready, and when my physical body decides to birth is completely up to me. I can either walk around bitter, anxious and feeling betrayed because things are not going how I want (Hello 4 year old Me!) or I can thank my body carrying this child to term and continuing to protect her from this wide unpredictable world. The beautiful thing about not being a monkey (other than the whole, you know, not being a monkey part) is conscious thought, the ability to imagine, the control we have over our outer as well as inner environment. The frustration I am feeling is not something placed on me externally, but rather something I am inflicting on myself. And let me tell ya, I’m not a blast to be around when I am inflicting little emotional and mental wounds on myself with each breath - sometimes they get lose and I give myself something to really feel like shit about.
So? No more. Or, rather, much less. Just being aware of this mental beating I have been giving myself, and not wallowing in its muddy banks is a start. The irony here is that by forcing myself to trust again, I am taking back a bit of my power. Today, I need it.
In good news, I am taking the day off. I don’t get maternity leave, but I am giving myself the day off from laundry, picking up toys, cleaning dishes, making nutritious meals, limiting TV time, and all the other nonessential mom things I spend my days doing. I am still changing diapers, giving cuddles, making convenience foods (cereal for breakfast, hotdogs for lunch!) and putting a hat on naked-baby-doll every 10 seconds, but otherwise, it’s my day off. I’ll report back to work bright and early tomorrow.
I *heart* my camcorder - I spent the last few hours tinkering with it and the oh so stylish Windows Movie Maker, and am half convinced that maybe I’ll just start video casting my blog. But.. then I would have to put on pants more often, which sounds hard, so.. no.
For the record, there will be no webcasting of Cricket’s birth - if all goes well and I don’t look like a jackass for parts of it, I may make a small video afterwards, but let it be known: My Vagina will never grace the internet with its presence! I know, I know, you are all so disappointed, but I thought I would break the news to you now, so that you have time to process it and come to terms.
But as a consolation prize, I made you this video.
Today is a lazy Sunday, where Tom only works one full time shift instead of his regular two. He is talking about quitting Job A (which has good benefits but has become increasingly poorly managed and has put he and a few coworkers in very dangerous situations) and just working Job B for a while, while applying for a few much-more-ideal jobs. Of course this sounds lovely to me, since the more he is home in the next month, the less likely I am to become stuck in screamy-mom-mode, but it also scares the crap out of me, since hello impulse buyer. Anyone know of a job where I can make $2957456 a day, do nothing, and not have to think? Let me know, I’m perfect for the job!
Proof that my husband loves me:
He cleaned out the hot tub. Okay, maybe it’s not the most romantic thing you can think of, but ya’ll, it was snowing this morning when he drained the water, and he spent literally hours out there, wet and soapy, scrubbing out the cracks with a toothbrush, rinsing and repeating until he was sure it was clean. All because last night I sighed, looked outside, and said “I wish I could just labor in there.” And voilà! - 24 hours later, I can. We are still going to set up the labor pool inside, and who knows where this kid will actually be born (Ella was born in bed, despite having pushed in water forever) , but just knowing that when that first contraction hits that I can go out and just relax is so wonderful. Water, for me, is comfort. Given the choice between a massage and a bath, I will pick a bath almost every time. Hell, I would even pick a bath over chocolate if pushed (don’t push!) When I am not pregnant I probably average two baths a week, but during pregnancy it’s not uncommon for me to take two baths a day. I just crave the warmth, the quiet, the feeling of weightlessness. I can not imagine laboring without water, and in fact, the only times I felt overwhelmed during Ella’s birth - like the pain was winning, and that I had made a bad bad decision by choosing to push a child out of my vagina (what IS it that convinces us that this is a great idea, BTW?) - was when I was not in the water. Of course, like all birth choices, I know it is not for everyone, but it IS for me. Ohhhhh is it for me.
Crap, I have 10 minutes to get this in for NaBloPoMO, so that is all I have to say about using water for labor today. We also had a midwife appt this morning where she gave me the final preparations list (it’s short enough to be handwritten on a notecard, vs some of the lists online), and we just talked for a few hours. LOVE my midwife. Yoga was also today, and I am officially the pregnant-est, which is to say: the hugest. LOVE my pregnancy yoga class, and wonder if they will let me come back even when I am not pregnant. All kinds of positive pregnancy vibes over here, which helps balance out the antsy energy I have - I feel like all the work I’ve done (mostly emotionally and mentally) to be ready for this birth is finally paying off, and I am just waiting on the physical body to catch up. It’s nice to feel good about still being pregnant, vs feeling like I should be done already. Tomorrow I will probably be back to feeling like I am losing at the lottery, but today I am just rubbing my belly, playing in my hot tub, and loving that my husband loves me more than the tips of his fingers. Who needs the pinkie anyway?
