Home Birth

I don't think I ever really discussed my home birth experience with my first son. The closest I got was here. And that was a year after I gave birth. Considering the traumatic postpartum experience I had last time, it makes sense that I: 1. was not emotionally able to discuss anything to do with this new transition, and 2. I did not have the ability to write anything because of a colicky baby. So to briefly recap my last birth I offer the answers to these FAQ I get when people find out I had a home birth:

How big was your baby?
Big (9lbs 11oz)

Did you have him naturally?
Yes

How did you do that? Why would you do that?
Well there are no drugs available at my home, so that is how I did it naturally. I absolutely would have agreed to an epidural where I in a hospital. In a way, I think I took the chicken's way out because if I were in a hospital I would not be strong enough to say no to drugs. So I chose a home birth where that would not be an option thereby hedging my bets that I would have a natural birth. Just playing the odds, folks, playing the odds. Oh! and I have a phobia of hospitals, so that is really the last place I would want to be ever for anything. As for the why, well, this is just something I wanted to do for my children. This is a difficult question for me to answer, because I don't want people to think that I am judging them, because I am not. I think birth is crazy intense, and we mamas do what we need to do to make sure that we have healthy babies. All mamas are amazing warriors! All mamas! And I am so grateful for the medical advances we have made to protect the lives of babies and mamas that previously may have died or been seriously injured during birth. But other than those rare cases, I believe birth not to be a sickness/illness and am not fond of the hospital models of treating pregnancies and birth as such. If you know me at all, then you know how I strive to live a natural and raw/pure lifestyle. I have a long way to go on this journey, but this is why I chose to labor and birth my babies at home, in their natural habitat if you will.

Was there a mess?
Um, yeah, birth is messy, no matter where you go. But my midwife and her team took care of it all so I didn't have to, just like they do at a hospital.

Did you have a water birth?
Yes! I love me some birthing tub!!! It was the closest thing to an epidural. Really did help with the pain! Big thumbs up!

How long was your labor?
Long (21 hours), though my midwife said I was well within average for a first time mom.

How was it?
Intense, tiring, long, beautiful, surreal.

Would you do it again?
Oh Yeah! and I did.

Why?
For the same reasons I chose to the first time. In a nut shell, I believe it is what is best for my children and for me.

Was it what you expected?

Not really. Have you seen The Business of Being Born, the documentary by Rikki Lake? If not I highly recommend it. It helped me to view birth as a beautiful and sacred event, very different from what I previously thought, thanks to the media. There is this one woman who looks focused and serene as she is having a contraction. And that's what I wanted instead of all the screaming you see in movies. Only I ended up sounding exactly like the movies. J jokes that he couldn't believe the neighbors didn't call the cops on us. It was intense and the fight or flight instinct took over in my body. It was in this primal place that I lived for most of the labor. But since I was at home there were key details in place that were crucial to my success in reaching my birthing goal, namely food and not having to have my labor follow any pre-established progress timetable (basically being left alone to allow my labor to unfold in its own way). I had complete trust in my midwife and she in turn had trust in my body. So, it was not the serene experience I wanted but it was an affirming experience that changed me in many ways, many important ways. 

Fast forward 2 1/2 years and I was in the same place with the same birthing team (mostly) in labor once again. Prior to that day I had to work through the fear I had of how difficult it was the last time. For the most part I did, but on that day I had to face the fears that were quietly taunting me ever since I found out I was pregnant. 

My biggest fear was not doubting my body's ability to give birth, I knew I could, and birth a large baby at that. No, my biggest fear was the pain and how long I would have to suffer and how drained it would leave me. Throughout my pregnancy I was assured that this time would be quicker because my body would remember, plus the baby felt smaller. 

In a nut shell, my labor was longer and when I reached the 21 hour mark and still no baby I had a choice to make, lose hope and doubt my body, or persevere and laugh at the ridiculousness that once again I was having another long and difficult labor. I chose to laugh and settle in for the long haul. I was going to meet this baby and I wanted to meet him at home. The only way to do that was to breathe deeply, stay positive, and get to the other end of this labor. Turns out that would be 7 more hours.

Things that I learned this time around

My body makes big babies, and I have long labors. Good to know if I ever find myself here again. Also, I labor best in solitude- my labor slowed almost every time my midwife or her assistants were around.

Things that were different

I was quieter this time focusing on using my breathe to help rather than only reacting to the pain. I had high spirits throughout. My midwife's assistants showered me with praise and affirmations and oh my! how powerful their words were to me. They gave me strength and courage and confidence with each push. It was amazing. They may never know how powerful their words were. I needed them! God knew. 

Things that were better this time

Well this might be TMI but I didn't tear which is in large part due to how slowly my son made his way out. I was more rested after 28 hours of labor than I was after the 21 of last time. I think this is because my pain management techniques were more efficient, and also I just let myself rest and nap when I needed to because I knew I would need energy for the pushing and the postpartum recovery. And the pushing was shorter this time so I wasn't completely wiped out this time. But the best thing of all, I was actually able to catch my baby!!! J wanted to do it, but I needed his support in the tub once again. Last time I was way too tired to do it, I just wanted the baby out. But this time after pushing out the head my midwife told me with the next push I would be able to reach down and catch my baby. And I did! And it was amazing! My hands were the first to touch him on the outside of my protective womb. And it was love at first sight! Love and kisses and giggles. Thanks to that gorgeous oxytocin rush, another thing that was better this time. 

I could go on and on but this post is already too long. If you have questions about home births or my labors, feel free to ask. I love this topic. And hopefully I have demystified home births a little. 

P.S.- I didn't even go into how amazing my dogs were during the whole process. It's like they knew I was entering their world and they held the space for me. Plus it pretty amazing to see moments of the dogs meeting the new pack member and welcoming him in.

Second Time Around

Where to begin? There are so many things this time that mirrored my last pregnancy/motherhood journey. I had the same excellent prenatal care. I had the same midwife and assistant help bring my son into the world in my same cozy home. Once again I had a giant belly, a giant boy, and a long labor. During labor I had my blessingway candle lit reminding me that I was not alone, like last time. I had my dogs remaining vigilant and serene as I became my most primal self and the wall between our worlds thinned for the second time during those transitional hours. And while so so much was the same, things were very different in the most essential ways.

My last labor and postpartum experience was a dark and difficult time for me. There was a lot of guilt and sorrow I had to work through. It was so difficult that I was not sure whether I ever wanted to be in that place again. Half of me was sincere when I said I was done having babies. I certainly wasn't ready to start over when we found out we were pregnant again. That was more of a shock than a surprise. I mean it took us more than a year of intentional trying to conceive, so how could we possibly be pregnant on accident with how little we actually had sexy time?!?! But here we were, unprepared and pregnant. 

This time around I was not nearly as attentive to the nugget in my womb. I chased my toddler around the house, juggled working full time and parenting my little tornado, was just beginning to be able to carve space out for myself to tend to my soul and spirit, and with only 24 hours in a day I just couldn't be as on top of things with this pregnancy as I was with my first. Things slipped through the cracks. I forgot to take supplements, I stopped tracking how much protein I was eating, I didn't have time to listen for that special song that would be ours: baby's and mine. The guilt I felt during postpartum with my first, I felt during the actual pregnancy with the second. I had to remind myself to actually tell the baby and, if I'm honest, myself that I did love the baby and that his life was cherished and desired, even if unplanned.

What taking a nap in the first trimester looks like with a toddler in the home

Everyone's promise to me was that this baby would be easier. Maybe it was said just to set my heart at ease and to quiet my fear, something I never really tried to hide. But whether on not that was the case, one thing was true- I was not the same person as last time. My tribe of friends and mamas reminded me of this. For as much as I suffered through my first experience, I was also changed by those experiences, refined by the fire of hard truths and inescapable realities: living with a baby is hard, and some babies are really really hard (read: my son). And so with much more healthy and realistic expectations I braced myself for the hell that I anticipated would come, all the while hoping the promises made to me would become my truth. 

I'm happy to say that, for the most part, those promises have come true. I was told that my labor would be shorter, especially after giving birth to such a large baby last time, that my body would be well prepared to push anything out quicker than last time. Well that was not the case. This second labor was in fact 7 hours longer, totaling 28 hours. Ugh! But somehow, it was easier. More on that in another post. But aside from that missed promise, my postpartum experience has indeed been easier. This baby has been easier. He's still a sparkler- apparently, the Divine must want me to prepare for some kind of weight lifting competition in the future since I keep getting practice with giant babies that MUST be carried/held at all times. But he is closer to what a typical newborn experience is. It is hard, being yelled at/cried at, getting little sleep, losing freedoms as you become chained to a tiny person thanks to your leaking boobs, but all this is still so much easier than last time. It really truly is, and I actually am happy, and so head-over-heels in love with this little man. Now, I get it, now I understand what all the fuss is about, why women ache to have a baby, the smell, the cuddles, the staring and staring at a cherub-like face- moonstruck...I get it. 

My sweet little cherub, he makes me so happy

This experience has redeemed those terrible days of my last experience. For all the ways that the two stories mirror each other, they are different in the most important ways. Where there was darkness, now there is light. Isn't that how love works?

Thank you little Bear for choosing me to be your mama, and for letting me love and care for you. This is my favorite job EVER! You are the Best. Surprise. Ever.

XOXO

Attachment Parenting by Accident

I'm not going to go into great detail defining AP but in a nut shell it includes the 7 B's:

Birth bonding

Breastfeeding

Babywearing

Bed close to baby (co-sleeping)

Belief baby's cry is communication

Beware baby trainer

Balance 

When I was pregnant I was curios about this. Mostly I thought it was too much but I didn't really know anyone who parented this way so I thought maybe I wasn't being fair and that I should research this. After my first baby was born, I read a few books and found that this form of parenting is flexible. You don't have to do it all, just what works for your family. In that light I bet there are many more people who are attachment parenting (AP) who don't even realize it. I also found that I was already parenting this way and didn't know it. I was doing what I needed to survive and it turns out that meant AP.

Here are the ways I found myself in the AP community:

First moments with my second son

Birth Bonding- When my son was born we did skin to skin, both my husband and myself. This is a very common practice in hospitals now as well, and I'm glad it is so. Those first few moments are so special and surreal.

Post-nursing coma. I cherished those sweet moments

Breastfeeding- My goal was to breastfeed. How long was not clear in my vision. I really wanted to make it to 12 months, but since I was going back to work at 5 months, I was prepared not to make it. Pumping on a teacher's schedule makes it hard to keep the milk supply up especially as I would not be able to pump as often as my little one was demanding at home, plus the pump just isn't as powerful at expressing milk as the baby. But I came home everyday for lunch to nurse and I believe that was a huge factor in helping me make it to 12 months and beyond. After twelve months I had no real plan as to when we would finish. Breastfeeding was such a special time of bonding for me and my boy, it forced us both to slow down and cuddle and just be in each other's presence. I was in no rush to end this special time. I was fully prepared to go until my little boy decided he had enough, even if that meant to 3 or 4 years old. Have I completely shocked you/grossed you out? You know, before my baby this would have grossed me out too, but I can't explain how much I loved the time I spent with my boy nursing. So judge if you must, but in my mind it was a truly beautiful time that I was not going to force to end. Only I kinda did on accident. I got pregnant when my boy was 18 months. He still nursed but my milk must have changed because by the time he was 27 months he had completely weaned on his own.

This is how we do chores in my house

Babywearing- Ugh! This one! I was interested in wearing the baby, I mean, heck, I even registered for a ring sling and woven wrap, and I already owned a buckle carrier, but boy did this one completely take over my life. My baby, HATED with a passion all things that made him recline on his back: the bouncer, the swing, the rocker, the car seat! And my baby was HUGE! I needed to get things done at home, like feed myself, and the carriers were my only way to do this. He basically lived in the carrier until he was able to go in the jumper. Both my husband and I became experts at tying a mei tai. Truth be told, if I had the option of wearing the baby all the time or not, I would choose the latter. Our backs have paid the price of carrying a baby nearly constantly. But, the carriers did provide a freedom that we greatly needed. and sometimes strollers are more of a pain and a carrier is ideal (hiking, airports, stairs, any place that is super crowded). And this time around, with this baby, well let's just say we were well prepared for this one because of the rigorous training our first put us through (I'm wearing him now as he naps and I type).

This sweet moment, brought to you by co-sleeping

Co-sleeping- This one has a wide range of appearances. Baby can share the bed with parents, or sleep in a co-sleeper attached to the bed, or sleep in a crib/bassinet/cradle/etc. in the same room as the parent. We did the first. I actually had a crib, but my son nursed every 1 to 1.5 hours, and I was exhausted. I could not take getting woken up that often, and so a sweet mentor came and taught me how to nurse lying down (side-lying nursing) and changed my life. And then I grew accustomed to this arrangement, and then I grew to love it. It is one of my favorite things to open my eyes in the morning and have my son's peaceful, sleeping face be the first thing I see.

I think this baby is communicating how much he loves the dinner I made him...or not.

Belief that baby's cry is communication- The word that sticks out to me is cry. Oh boy, did my kid cry. He had colic for the first 3 months. He never stopped crying until we held him (hence the babywearing). But I think that he trained us to respond to him, and that in turn taught him to trust that we would always be there for him. A lesson I hope he carries with him forever.

My mold-breaking boy

Beware the Baby Trainer- Not really sure how this one applied to us, except that every time I read or heard someone describe what is a reasonable expectation for a baby,  I could not relate because my sparkler broke the mold, and still is breaking molds. So I have basically given up trying to set expectations for who my kids should be and how they should behave. I will let them show me for themselves who they are.

Balance means making time to dwell in sacred moments that fill up my cup

Balance- This is the mantra of my life. At the beginning of my parenting journey I completely surrendered my needs and desires to meet those of my son. That was not healthy for me, and I am learning to take care of myself, to fill up my cup when I need it, so I am better prepared to be the best parent I can be. But don't look too closely right now, I have an infant and they take over for the first few months no matter what.

How about you? How many of the 7 B's do you see in your parenting journey? You might be more of an AP parent than you realized.

The Magic Blanket

A few years ago I started working on a blanket for myself. I realized that everything I made I gifted to others. I love making things out of yarn and giving them to friends and family and since I'm slow at EVERYTHING, including crocheting, I never had time to make something for myself. So I decided to make a blanket for our bed. This was also around the time that I had become aware of my infertility issues.

Crocheting has always been a great release for me. The rhythm of the patterns and stitches is soothing and relaxing. And so perhaps I threw myself into such a great project at that time in an effort to distract myself. Perhaps. Sounds like something my subconscious would do. About a year after starting this project I found out I was pregnant. Joy of joys, and wonder of wonders! And what better gift to myself than to finish this blanket that I was SLOWLY working on (typical Susanne). So I challenged myself to finish this beast before the birth on my first son.

I tried. I really did, but I failed. And the following two years found me overwhelmed by the chaos of raising my sparkler child (this is how La Leche League refers to a child like mine, as opposed to the titles that have crossed my mind like "monster" or "demon child,"- way more P.C. and gracious). But I would try from time to time to pick up my blanket and get a row in. Then my son would scream, cry, get into/climb on/put into his mouth something he was not supposed to, and that was that.

So when I found out I was pregnant again, I challenged myself to FINISH THE BLANKET! Because if I didn't get it done now, I probably never would. So I enlisted the help of my husband and figured that if I completed two rows a week I would be done three weeks before the baby was due. And with my plan in place I made great progress in the beginning, but old habits crept back in and I found myself more and more behind schedule.

I found a surge of motivation the last month and a half of my pregnancy. I was so close to finishing, it would be down to the wire and so very close to my due date. And then, with only two more rows remaining, I went into labor 5 days early. My labor was long (again) and when 12 hours came and went I decided I needed to be distracted. Enter the nearly finished blanket to the rescue!!! I sat on my birthing ball and worked, focusing on my stitches as the contractions began, breathing through the contractions, and picking up the stitches when they passed. The imminent arrival of my baby pushed me to work quickly and diligently (only his arrival really wasn't as close as I had imagined, and I would be in labor for much longer than I had ever expected for this, my second time around). And I finished!!! I did it!!!

The only thing left is to hide the tails in each row, but I still think this counts as being done. (I hate hiding tails, and I have no idea how long it will take me to finish that- years I suspect). I love the way it came out, and I love that I have this story that goes along with this blanket. It will forever remind me of that sacred and primal time when my body and my son worked together so I could hold my baby in my arms and look into his precious eyes- Magic. The magic blanket.

Postpartum Body

So I gained 50lbs during my pregnancy. Yes you read that right. My 5' and 105lbs body gained 50lbs in 40 weeks. Some doctors might have warned me to avoid gaining so much weight but my midwife never worried. She knew I was keeping a healthy diet, I was active at work and practicing yoga at home. She also knew I was married to a Viking and thus was baking a Viking-sized baby. There wasn't anything to worry about, she and I believe that (in most cases) the woman's body will be able to birth the baby it makes, no matter how big he may be. And so, my belly stretched to ridiculous proportions, but all that weight stayed focused in my mid-section. And when my son made his entrance into this world, he left behind his big, comfy home.

It took me by surprise how deeply I grieved the loss of my body. Pre-pregnancy I spent way too much time criticizing the minor imperfections, when I should have been living it up! Wearing a bikini at every possible opportunity. At times I think I may have even resented my baby for "ruining" me, as I write this now I realize how terrible it sounds, but it was my truth at that time. A dear friend comforted me, reminding me that most women fluctuate in their size, and with each new size they have to learn to love their new body. This was something that I had never had to do, and I was not doing it well.

When my son left my body he left behind all that stretched out skin used to protect his home inside me. There is nothing I can do about that skin, short of surgery. I am already back to my pre-pregnancy size, in fact I am even smaller, but on my stomach there still remains a flab of empty skin (not to mention the plethora of scars). It has been a SLOOOOOOOW process learning to accept this new skin, but believe it or not, I am much more comfortable in my body now than I ever was pre-pregnancy. Pre-pregnancy, I wasted time scrutinizing the imagined imperfections in my body, trying to meet some ridiculous and unrealistic standard meant to objectify me. Post-pregnancy I have learned to see the body in a more functional way and I marvel at its beauty.

The body is truly one of God's greatest masterpieces, and all the variety and designs we are blessed to manifest that handiwork. My pear-shaped body with its strong legs and short height are delicately designed to carry the weight of my son as he climbs up in my arms. Beauty. My small breasts are bountiful enough to nourish my growing toddler. Beauty. My small hands fit perfectly into my husband's large and protective hands. Beauty. My eyes can look up to the moon as my arms cradle my son and my legs spin us under its moonlight. Glory. We are all wonders. And our bodies reflect just a sliver of the beauty we manifest through these vessels.

This body, my body, is beautiful. I understand it better now that it has been "ruined" by love and light. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my mom-jeans, because those are seriously comfortable, and I finally get it!

PS: This video was a huge help to me on this journey. I hope it blesses you as it did me.

Giggles, and Going Back to Work

Since I had been TTC for a while before we met R, I was able to save enough money to take 5 months off from work. I'm SOOOOO glad that I did. I needed that time to bond with R. As I have mentioned before, the first three months were spent just trying to survive my postpartum depression and the colic. And then somewhere in between the second and third months giggles happened. Giggles that I caused! My son was starting to bond with me and I with him. The 4th and 5th months were spent strengthening that bond, which I desperately needed because I wondered daily if I had what it took to make a decent mother. My biggest fear was that I did not, and my lack of bond/connection played into that fear. But giggles happened, and smiles at me, and belly laughs, and naps in my arms, and reaching for me. Sitting up, touching grass for the first time, and tasting and making faces at food. It was in these mundane daily acts that I started to feel connected to my son.

It was also at this time that I had to go back to work. Ah the irony...when all I wanted to do was get away I had to stay at home with the baby, and just when I was starting to feel like my place, purpose and joy were wrapped up in being with my little chunky monkey that is the exact time I had to go back to work. That last week at home was tough. I cried at everything. I hated that I was going to miss all those firsts and all the cuddles and giggles but I knew this was part of the deal.

When I found out that it wasn't going to be easy for me to get pregnant I felt an urgency to start trying. The original plan was to wait until my husband could financially support us himself. But with the uncertainty of when or how long it would take for us to get pregnant, we took the leap. I know it hurt my husband to see me moping around the house as my return to work date neared. I know he wished he could give me my heart's desire, but he also reminded me that this was the risk we took when we started trying ahead of schedule.

I had to remind myself that as I was TTC I had asked for god's timing in it all and that I would learn to surrender my sense of control in exchange for trust that god would provide (a baby, or if no baby then the healing and courage to embrace my new life path) and in the right time. And here I was with the prayed-for-baby, questioning god's timing. How could I leave him?

An army of working moms reached out to me, sympathy in their eyes, offering me their strength and courage. My mother was one of them. She was sad, and, I imagine, relived those painful days when she had to leave me and my brother as I cried to her. She affirmed my grief, and conceded that it is hard, but it would get easier, and it would be okay.

My greatest comfort was that R would be staying with his papa. J adjusted his schedule so that he could watch R the majority of the time I was away. But there was still guilt and fear. Now a year has gone by and the fear (of R not wanting/knowing me) has all but disappeared. The guilt, however, that lingers and somedays it wells up and lands heavy on me, and all I can do is stand in it and wait for it to settle back down. Days like when my husband confessed that he saw our son take his very first steps but he didn't tell me right away because he wasn't sure how I would take it. Days like when the sitter is leaving and my son cries and reaches for her. Days like when my son figures out how to say, "Xbox" and I wasn't there to marvel at his genius. I know more days like those lie ahead. I also know that I am working, not because I don't love my son, but because I do! I love him so so so much! And this is the sacrifice I have to make for our family, for him.

Going back to work definitely has its challenges, but THANK GOD for giggles and cuddles and special times like these!

Colic

So colic is one of those words that most people aren't really sure of the exact definition. In fact, even in the medical field there is a lack of consistency in defining colic. It is one of those words that becomes the catch all to describe a baby crying because of a belly ache. And so it is pretty common for people to tell you that their baby had colic.

The first few times people shared this with me, I was eager to commiserate with them over the horror that is colic, only what they described was worlds apart from what I was experiencing. Then one day at church a sweet mama saw my face and heard me mention colic, she approached me with genuine concern and gently tried to encourage me that this would pass and she knew what I was going through because her first born was the exact same way. It was the sympathy in her eyes, and heart break in her tone that convinced me that she truly understood what I was living.

Colic, as our pediatrician explained, is when there are spasms in the digestive system (intestines, or stomach) as the baby continues to develop this important system. These spasms are not always painful to all babies, but for some they are very painful. We were the lucky winners of that crap shoot. Now that my boy is past that painful phase and I can feel what gas bubbles moving through intestines feels like, I am more convinced that our pediatrician's definition is spot on, because gas bubbles feel different than what I would feel in my baby boy's tummy. It felt like a spasm. Like a cramp was spasming in his belly. Poor baby :( He was suffering, and, by proxy, so were we.

The colic lasted for about 13 weeks, and coincided with my postpartum depression. I think the lack of sleep was a huge factor in my depression. For thirteen weeks my son cried and screamed in pain. He slept very little and when he did it was only with pressure and heat on his stomach. So we ended up holding him in the "magic hold" (look it up if you ever find yourself with a restless, fussy baby, it was a life saver for us), or we wore him. I had intended to wear him, but with the colic there was no other option if I wanted to get anything else done. He HATED the car seat (and still isn't really a fan) so driving around was not an option, he hated being on his back so the swing or bouncer didn't help much during that time. He basically lived in my carrier on my or my husband's chest, like a baby kangaroo. (BTW I would highly recommend the Becco Gemini carrier for folks who want to wear newborn babies!)

R slowly outgrew the colic. A woman commented to me once that she believed that babies aren't done developing when they come out of the womb and the she considered the first six months to be a continuation of the enormous changes that occurred in utero. That perspective really helped me during this time. I can't exactly explain why, but it did. My baby who was in pain, and who was making me miserable, was himself miserable and scared by all the changes and sensations he was feeling, and he was helpless to stop it, and all he wanted was to be held chest to chest with his momma or papa. At times I was so tired and irritated I resented being wanted so extremely, but then I reminded myself of his developing pains and I wore him because that was the only thing to give him comfort.

So, we had the colic. It suuuuuucked!!! I had not prepared for that. I did not handle it well. My husband was the champ, the hero, the rock. And those were the first 3 months. Every week of those months I wondered how long I would be in that hell. Those were dark times for me, remember? No one could ever give me a definitive answer. A few moms had some wise words: things never really get easier, they just get different. I liked that. It has that hopeful, slogan feel doesn't it? And I am sure it is true for most moms. But my husband and I were just talking about this the other day, and so far every phase past the colic has definitely been easier. Teething, easier. Night terrors, easier. Night nursing (which he still does at 13 months), easier. Growth spurts, easier. Pre-milestone-grumpiness, easier. ALL easier. Not easy, but easier. So far anyway.