Anne's Birth Remembered

When I wrote Anne's birth story originally, it was a week or two after she was born and I wanted to remember all of the details.  It's a fairly accurate play-by-play account, but after reading many birth stories written by other women I realized that I often forgot to mention how I *felt* throughout the experience.  So, in honor of Anne's first birthday, I am rewriting her birth story, as I remember it now. 

The week leading up to Anne's birth was excruciating.  I had recurring lower back pain that made the hour long drive to and from work complete agony, and I had to borrow a heating pad to put in my chair because every few minutes the pain would get so intense I would have to stand up to get it to go away.  I woke up several times at night and had to walk off the pain in my back and hips.  I was miserable and even though I was not quite 37 weeks along, I was ready for Anne to arrive.  I kept telling myself it was just my body's way of preparing me for the grueling work of labor.  Looking back, I can't help but wonder if I was actually experiencing early labor pains, but I have no way of knowing for sure.  It certainly wasn't what I thought a contraction would feel like, and I was still three weeks away from my due date, so I assumed that it wasn't, but I guess it could have been.   The morning my water broke was the first morning in a week or two with no pain.  I should have known something was up when I got in my car that morning and didn't feel like crying from discomfort the whole way to work.  But I had just seen one of my midwives for a checkup 2 days before and she assured me I was nowhere near ready to go into labor, so I didn't think anything of it.

Pregnant women often pee on themselves (go ahead, laugh, but it's true; you try having bladder control with a baby kicking you there), so when my water broke the first little trickle didn't clue me in.  I just grimaced, got up and went to the bathroom, and then came back to my chair.  And then it happened again.  Little bells went off in my head.  It couldn't be pee, I just went to the bathroom!  But that would mean...oh my gosh, my water just broke!!  I almost felt dizzy I was so elated as I ran back to the bathroom.  The world was spinning.  I wasn't due for three more weeks!  Kristian's mother had gotten on a plane for Philadelphia that morning!  I almost couldn't believe it was happening.  I was also mortified to discover that when your water breaks, it happens more than once (with each contraction).  Thankfully one of my bosses lives nearby and brought me some towels.  I called my doula to make sure I wasn't crazy and then I called Kristian to let him know.  He was considerably calmer than I was.  I was already beginning to feel a little spacey and frazzled.

Some women immediately experience strong contractions when their water breaks, but I felt nothing.  I called my midwife, Anjli, agreed to meet her at the hospital to get checked and make sure everything was okay, and finished up one last thing at work before I headed over to the hospital.  It was incredibly difficult to concentrate on that last document, the world felt like it was spinning faster than it should be.  I waddled into the hospital with a towel slung between my legs (I was completely unprepared for my water breaking at work).  I was too happy and excited to care that I must have looked like a total idiot.  I walked up to the nurse's station and explained my condition and that I was meeting my midwife.  Not realizing they were going to try to make me check in, I was confused when they asked me if I was having a water birth.  It took me a second to realize they were asking so they could get the tub set up.  I emphatically explained that I was not staying since I was not feeling any contractions yet, which led to a slight argument with the head nurse and signing a waiver so I could leave.  My midwife checked me out, said everything looked fine, that I was having contractions even though I couldn't feel any pain yet, and then sent me home.

As I drove home to wait for my body to go into active labor, I looked at the beautiful blue sky and couldn't help but feel like it was a perfect October day.  The weather was absolutely beautiful.  Knowing I would need strength later, I stopped and grabbed some food on the way home.  My mom and her then-fiance (now husband) Ray came over to help me around the house and wait with me, and Kristian came home from work soon after.  I was already well into "laborland" by this point.  Everything felt surreal and I had a hard time concentrating on much of anything.  I think it took me an hour to pack our hospital bag and it really didn't have that much in it.  My mind was already turning inward to prepare for the marathon my body was about to endure.   I was excited, nervous, and happy.  My little girl would be here soon!

After we packed our bags, Kristian and I laid down for a nap.  I didn't sleep because I was too excited, but it was good to rest for awhile.  Around 7:00 pm or so I had a strong contraction and I happily told Kristian.  It was enough that I knew it was a contraction, but it mostly just felt like a strong cramp at that point.  My Mom and Ray had gone to get us dinner from Cracker Barrell, so we went downstairs to eat when they got home.  I stood up from the table and had another strong contraction around 8:00 or so as I tried to walk up the stairs into the living room.  This time it was intense and my body temperature shot up; I was hot, and sweating and I needed Kristian to fan me with a paper fan while I waited for the contraction to subside.  I remember hanging on to the railing by the kitchen stairs, breathing through it and a little surprised at the intensity.

The details after that get a little blurry.  I stood in my living room while Mom, Ray, and Kristian watched me and talked to me as the contractions started getting closer together.  I used a variety of pain coping methods, including blowing horse lips, hip circles, swaying, breathing, etc.  I leaned against the wall during one contraction, swaying, picturing my body opening, and with Kristian by my side the whole time.   I made a few trips up and down our stairs.  At some point the contractions started coming right after another and were so intense that I started moaning and slapping my legs to keep a rhythm, repeating "open" over and over in my mind.  I just went with the flow of my body, and let it take over.  I never felt afraid.  I was only barely aware of the other people around me, I just did what felt natural to me, which included standing and moving around.

At some point Kristian, my Mom and Ray started to look concerned and suggested we head for the hospital.   I remember feeling unsure, like surely it had to be harder than that before it would be time to leave, and last longer, it had only been a couple of hours.  Not that it wasn't intense, because I was definitely working hard to get through each contraction, I just felt like I was coping well, and I knew I wanted to labor at home as long as possible.  The spacing of the contractions is what convinced me to go, though; they were practically right on top of each other and very strong.

We headed for the car.  I remember Ray tried to guide me with his hand and I shook him off, I didn't want any men to touch me except my husband.   It wasn't anything against him personally, I was just following my body's natural instincts.   I climbed into the back seat and immediately regretted it.  People had told me I would want to lay down on the drive to the hospital but laying down was the last thing I wanted to do, right next to being seated.  I wanted to stand.  But Kristian was already pulling out of the garage so I stayed where I was.  On the drive down to the hospital (which was about an hour from our house but I think we got there in under 45 minutes) I moaned and beat on the windows with my fist. I remember feeling glad there was no traffic as I watched the highway and street lights slide past the window.

In the midst of the car ride I was also in the middle of a flurry of phone calls trying to organize a doula being with me because my doula, Renee, had an emergency and the back-up doula was with a client.  In the end I got to keep Renee but it was crazy trying to handle that while I was in the middle of having extremely intense contractions.

When we got to the hospital I forgot that they close the front entrance after 9:00 pm until I was already out of the car and at the door.  At this point I could barely walk, but the thought of getting back in the car sounded so awful I started to try to walk around the corner of the building toward the ER entrance.  I didn't get very far because I could barely move and had to stop every foot or so to manage another contraction.  Eventually we convinced a nurse or someone to let me in a side door.

We headed up to the 7th floor.  I distinctly remember being pissed off that the nurses were making me fill out paperwork and show my photo ID while I was clearly having extremely strong contractions, moaning and slapping my legs to get through them.  I waddled to my room once they finally admitted me (where was the scene where you're whisked off in a wheelchair like in the movies??) and stood by the bed.  I vaguely remember my father-in-law bringing my mother-in-law into the room (she had gotten a flight back that day because I wanted her there for the birth) and my instincts again told me the only male I wanted near me was my husband, but I waited for him to leave and didn't say anything.  The nurses strapped the strip monitor around my belly and I wanted to murder them for the next half hour or so.  I was beating on my legs so hard it made the monitor jump and they couldn't get a clear reading; my midwife had to hold the monitor on my belly to satisfy the nurses and by that point I had already told one of them that I hated them.  They finally removed that torture device and Anjli ordered the nurses to fill the birthing tub.

I asked myself if I wanted any pain meds just to test myself, and my answer to myself was "Nah, I got this."  Even as strong and as close together as the contractions were, I knew I could do it.  I wasn't afraid, I was just trusting my body to do what it was supposed to do.  It was a roller coaster ride and I wasn't getting off until it was over.

I told my midwife I felt like I had to push, and she told me to go with it, so I did.  I pushed and my knees buckled and I sank to the floor.  She stripped my pants off me and I got on the bed after that and labored on all fours.  It's amazing how much you have no sense of modesty when you're in labor, it just doesn't matter anymore.  Anjli had me lay down on my side for a cervical exam to see how far dilated I was.  Laying down was the worst, my contractions were almost unbearable in that position.  It was the only time I remember feeling like the pain wasn't manageable but fortunately I wasn't in that position for long.  I had been told that cervical exams were painful, but because my contractions were so intense I welcomed the different sensation; it almost felt good just because it was a different feeling.  Anjli checked me and told me I was 8 to 9 centimeters.  I couldn't believe I had already gone through transition, which is said to be the hardest part, and I shouted "Hell Yeah!!!" when she told me.  (thinking back, I shouldn't have been surprised since I was already pushing, but I've never been known to be logical anyway)

Soon after, the tub was ready and I climbed into that glorious warm water.  I didn't bother to change, I just left my t-shirt and bra on.  They turned off most of the lights in the room so it was nice and dark.  I couldn't believe how much better the water felt; the weightlessness took the pressure off of the edema in my feet, ankles and legs, and my contractions finally spaced out enough that I got a break between each one.  I kept my eyes closed most of the time, I was completely focused inward on what was happening with my body, and I hung on to Kristian's hand and Renee's hand for dear life.  Anjli rubbed my back through the contractions, just a light touch but it made it so much easier for some reason.  I knew the moms were off to one side.  I felt safe and I continued to let my body take over.

At one point I opened my eyes to see the beautiful moon shining through my window and I knew it was a moment I wanted to remember.  I got such a long break between a couple of contractions I almost fell asleep on the side of the birthing pool.  Pushing was a lot of work.  It didn't hurt as much as the other kind of contractions, but it was still really intense.  It's really more like an involuntary convulsion, a lot like pooping, honestly.  Kristian and Renee kept encouraging me through the contractions, telling me that I was strong and that I could do it, which helped me a lot. At some point Renee suggested I internalize more of my moaning and let the contraction build more before pushing, and that seemed to help me make more progress.

I had no sense of time throughout my labor once I got to the hospital, and I only had a vague sense of what time it was before we left.  I didn't want to know how long it was taking because I didn't want my brain playing mind games with me if it was taking a long time.  It didn't matter to me if my labor took 8 hours or 30, I just wanted my body to do what it was supposed to do, and I was trusting that it would take exactly as long as it was supposed to.

That being said, I did get really exhausted at one point.  I started whimpering after each push because I was so tired.  Anjli told me to reach down and I could feel Anne's head in the birth canal.  As my fingers touched her squishy little head and I realized how close she was, a renewed sense of energy washed through me.  She was so close!!  So I pushed some more, and kept touching her head to see if she was making any progress.  I started getting tired again and was somewhat dismayed that she didn't seem to be moving any, and I asked Anjli why she hadn't crowned yet.  She and Renee suggested I switch positions.  I went from being on my knees to squatting, but I had a hard time holding myself in that position, so then I leaned against one edge of the tub while Kristian held me under my arms and Renee and I held opposite ends of a twisted sheet.  Whenever I had a contraction I would pull on the sheet, and she would hang on to the other end, and I used the leverage to help me bear down.

I don't know how many pushes it took while holding on to the sheet, but I don't think it was many before Anne started to crown.  Anjli told Kristian to look and he exclaimed "Holy crap, there really is a person in there!"  I laughed.  The moms started cheering with each push, really encouraging me to push hard.  I started to get excited.  Finally they told me "one more!!" and I pushed harder than I ever had before.  My low moaning ripped out of my mouth in a scream as I felt like my bottom was being torn in half, and I knew what they meant by the phrase "ring of fire."  It was literally the most intense pain I have ever felt in my life, but it was over almost as quickly as it began.  I still had my eyes closed so I didn't see Anne appear in the world but I felt every single inch of her body slide out of mine.  The swiftness of her exit after I had been pushing for so long was a shock, but then I was holding her in my arms and looking down at this wet gooey creature with brown hair.  I had a moment of panic and asked Anjli to make her cry so I could be sure she was breathing, so she rubbed Anne's back and I heard my daughter's voice for the first time.

I was too exhausted to cry but I was definitely in awe of this tiny creature in my arms.  The vernix wasn't as gross as I thought it would be, and I was surprised to see that the umbilical cord was blue.  My Mom cut the cord when we were ready and Anjli took Anne from me and handed her to Kristian so I could get out of the tub because I was starting to get cold.  I stood up, shivering, and realized it was all over.  I had done it!  No epidural, no other kinds of pain meds, no interventions.  Everything had gone beautifully.  I told everyone in the room "I'm a BADASS!!" and climbed out of the tub to laughter.

(Kristian holds Anne for the first time)

They wrapped me in a warm sheet and helped me to the bed where Anjli helped me deliver the placenta (uncomfortable but not really a big deal after birthing a baby) while the nurses did all the initial tests on Anne.  They were out of Ibuprofen and one of the nurses handed me some pills.  I asked what they were before I took them from her and she told me percocet; I angrily told her no because I needed to breastfeed and asked Kristian for some Aleve we had brought with us instead.  I delivered a baby without pain medication, I certainly didn't need percocet afterward!  Anjli brought me a sack lunch and I ate the best tasting turkey sandwich I've ever had in my life (only because I was so hungry).

They handed my daughter to me and I immediately put Anne to my breast.  She latched on like a champ.  Kristian stood by the bed and I was in complete awe of this little girl that we created.  For a few moments we were the only three people in the world.

Anne was born at 2:34 am on Saturday, October 16, 2010, after being in active labor for approximately 7 1/2 hours, approximately 3 hours of which was pushing.  She weighed 7 lbs 11.5 oz and was 20" long, with blue eyes and light brown/auburn hair.

None of the things we had packed for labor ever made it out of the bag; the lights, the music, my swimsuit top, none of it. The only thing in the room that was planned was the vase of dozen red roses my Mom had bought us.  Kristian hooked up our Christmas lights afterward and it gave a nice serene glow to the room, along with the Atlanta skyline shining through our window.  Kristian's parents stayed long enough to hold Anne before they headed home, and my Mom and Ray came back the next day. We spent the night in the delivery room and moved to postpartum the next morning.

And tomorrow, October 16, 2011, she will be 1 year old and my sweet baby girl will no longer be a baby, but a toddler.  It went by too fast, but I have many more moments to look forward to.

More Adventures with Anne / Parenting

* Anne drank from a regular cup (no sippy lid) for the first time last night.  She did great as long as she was drinking.  Mastering putting the cup down without dumping all the water everywhere will apparently come later.

* Anne's eating habits have gotten progressively pickier.  She will eat any fruit I put in front of her, but she hasn't been as keen on vegetables lately.  She loves sausage, I think probably because it's soft and easy for her to chew.  I'm hoping the pickiness is a phase.  I'm sure my friends who thought I was nuts when we decided to do Baby Led Weaning are laughing at me.  Oh well, it was worth a shot, right?  I still like that she feeds herself even if the mess does make me want to scream sometimes.  And I'm still hoping we will succeed in steering clear of the typical "chicken nuggets" kid diet.

* She's walking all over the place now, and with soft soled shoes.  It's crazy how fast they learn balance.  She can stand herself up in the middle of the room, while picking up an object in each hand.  It amazes me to watch her.

* I'm really enjoying "teaching" in the nursery at church.  I really do love babies, and it's super easy.  Much easier than I expected.  I guess new things just make me nervous in general, but I'm glad I decided to do it.  Will probably do more rotations in there even after Anne moves up to the next class.  I miss the sermons and worship, but the babies are so cute!

* I saw an example of the kind of parent I DON'T want to be the other day.  I was in the process of getting Anne out of the car at the grocery store, and the mom next to me was loading groceries into the back of her CRV.  She had two little boys, probably around the ages of 6-8 or so, who were trying to help her.  It caught my attention because she snapped at her son.  Conversation went something like this:

Mom:  "NO! Those don't go THERE!  Stop, just stop and GET IN THE CAR."
Boy:  "But, Mom, we're just trying to help you!!!"  (clearly has feelings hurt and is upset)
Mom:  "Well, you're NOT helping.  Just get in the car!!"

It was all I could do not to ask her son to help *me* instead, I could have used an extra pair of hands right then.  Now, I realize maybe this Mom isn't always like this, maybe she was just in a hurry, maybe the boys had already gotten on her last nerve, maybe she apologized for being so mean after they got in the car; I'm not trying to be judgmental, everyone has bad days.  But if you take the situation on its face, I really hope I never treat Anne like that.  The  mom could have found a way for her son to help that wouldn't have been in her way (hand the groceries directly to her instead?) and then the boy could have helped (a good and valuable thing to do) and would have prevented his mom yelling at him.

* On the other hand, my friend Heather let her 4 (?) year old son help her push the stroller carrying his baby sister into the church on Sunday and I thought that was pretty awesome :-D

* Anne's birthday party is Saturday.  I'm about 1/2 ready, at least shopping-wise.  I still need to clean the house, buy food, and cook.  Good thing Caitlin is coming over Friday night to help me!  Also, maybe since my Dad will be at our house he can help me watch Anne so I can clean.  I *might* have gone a little crazy with this party.  I've promised Kristian that for at least the next 2 years we're only doing something small with family.

Dear Anne : September 26, 2011

Life has been crazy and hectic lately which is why you turned 11 months old a week ago and I'm just now getting around to writing this.  Speaking of, I can't believe your birthday is in 3 weeks...but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Let's see, new things you can do....it seems like overnight you went from crawling to pulling yourself up on the furniture to cruising to taking your first steps!  I happily got to see you take your first steps on September 15th.  I was home sick with a stomach virus and Grammy was over helping me take care of you.  I stood you up and you walked into her arms!  I was so happy I almost started crying, I was really afraid you would do it at daycare and I'd miss it.  You've gotten braver since then and will occasionally try to walk from one piece of furniture to another or from us to an object.  The farthest I've seen you walk so far is about 8 steps across our living room.  I'm sure in another week or two I'll be chasing you around everywhere.

You've gotten better at shaking your head no or yes when you want or don't want something.  Your eating habits seem to have gotten pickier lately, a lot more food is ending up on the floor, but I'm not sure if it's a phase or if it's because you have a raging cold right now and don't feel like eating in general.   You can put objects into bags or bowls now instead of just taking them out and unpacking and repacking your diaper bag is endless fun for some reason.  You've discovered the tupperware cabinet and love to pull out the bowls and lids all over the kitchen.  It's fun to watch you try to match the lids with the containers.

You enjoy pushing your musical table or our dining room chairs across the kitchen.  You haven't eaten any cat food yet that I know of, but we're pretty good at watching you when you're playing on the floor.  On the other hand, it seems like every bit of cardboard or paper you come across still immediately goes into your mouth.  I'll be glad when you quit doing that.  You can crawl up our entire staircase (9 stairs) all by yourself.  Don't worry, we're always right behind you in case you slip.  I took you outside and let you play in our backyard and it was fun to watch you crawl away from me, then come back, then crawl a little farther, then come back...you were testing your limits.  I love watching you explore new things.

You've become quite the little Daddy's girl and often want him instead of me if you're hurt or upset.  I think Daddy loves every second of it.  You already have him completely wrapped around your finger and I love watching you two play together.  He's very protective of you, too.  If you're sleeping at night before we go to bed and you make the slightest noise he bolts up the stairs to check on you.  Speaking of sleeping, apparently naps and bedtime are for chumps because you barely take naps at daycare (though I can get you to sleep at home if I nurse you) and you want to play instead of go to bed a lot lately.  It's frustrating but I know it won't last forever (and it's not every night).

You still aren't really talking yet but it will come in time.  You like to chase the cats but they're still not terribly fond of you.   I kissed your baby doll and asked you to "give baby a kiss" and you did, with the classic open-mouth pose of an infant.  It was pretty adorable but you were stubborn and wouldn't show Daddy.

We tried to introduce you to goat's milk this weekend because your pediatrician said I could supplement with it (and use it after you turn 1 so I can stop pumping); goat's milk is easier to digest than cow's milk.  You didn't like it at all and projectile spit it out.  Daddy and I laughed pretty hard; unfortunately I think that encouraged you to spit it out every time now.  You did swallow one mouthful so I have a bit of hope you will drink it eventually.  Honestly, I don't blame you because I don't think I could drink it, but you have nothing except my milk to compare it to so I'm still hopeful you'll grow to like it.   Goat cheese can be an acquired taste; maybe it's the same with the milk.

Since you were sick this past week I took you to the doctor on Saturday; you weigh 22 lbs and 11 oz now!!  I'm not surprised, you're mostly wearing 18 months clothes already; but you're also really tall so it's not that you're a fat baby.  I'm sure when you start running you'll burn off some of that baby fat anyway.

Every moment with you is a joy.  I've recently been able to change to a part-time schedule at work, so now I get off earlier and have Fridays off.  I'm loving it already and it's only been 2 weeks.  It's so nice to have that extra day with you.

Well, you turn 1 in three weeks, so until then...I love you with all my heart.

Love,

Mom

Jackson's Birth Story

This is the birth story of the son of a very dear friend of mine from college.  Sarah was and always will be one of the most amazing people I have ever met, so it's no surprise that her son's birth story is just as amazing.   It had me in tears reading it; Sarah planned and prepared for a natural birth and ended up with a very necessary c-section after 64 hours of labor.  "Warrior Woman" indeed!

Jackson's Birth Story

by Sarah Harbin on Wednesday, September 14, 2011 at 11:44am

Tuesday, July 19, I was 39 weeks and 2 days pregnant.  Walt and I went to dinner on Folly at a friend's rented beach house. They were serving gumbo, and we joked about the spicy food starting  labor.  I hadn't told anyone, but Jackson's movements felt different.  Braxton Hicks had been going on for weeks, but now I was taking deep breaths during some of them.  And I felt different; more in tune with my body and less with the outside world.   I had a definite feeling that labor was imminent.

About midnight, I woke up during a contraction.  It felt like tough menstrual cramps, the kind that curl your toes and bring nausea with them.  It lasted about 30 seconds and faded away.  I went back to sleep, waking up several more times during the night.   I began timing with a phone app just to see how regular they were.  20 min apart, about 30 seconds long, with long breaks that probably meant I was sleeping through some.  I felt amazing, excited but not jittery.  I had prepared for this, and now I mostly just felt a lot of peace and a sense of being ready to do the work.

The only thing that worried me was how strong it was getting in my back.  Jackson had turned from OA position to OP (with his back to mine) at 37.5 weeks, and I was worried about back labor.  About 3 am, part of the mucous plug passed.  I wanted to share the excitement with Walt, but we had been instructed to let each other sleep as much as possible in the early stages of labor.  Around 4:30, he woke up when I came back in from the bathroom.  He asked me if I was ok, and I finally got to say it out loud:  "I'm starting to have some little contractions."

Wednesday morning, Walt stayed home for the first part of the morning to make sure things weren't going to progress quickly.  We rested and added last minute items to our bags. Nothing was changing, so he went into work.  I worked from home, did my prenatal yoga and went to the store.   It's amazing how early contractions just become a part of your day.  You have been expecting them for so long that their arrival is almost comforting, like a long-awaited house guest. 

Liz was scheduled to do some last minute maternity photos of me, so we went out to Alhambra Hall and the Sullivan's Island beachfront .  I'm so glad we got it in before the pregnancy I adored came to an end.   Liz got a beautiful shot of me mid-contraction.  And it was so amazing to be in the ocean, where the power and sound and smell consumed the discomfort and left only the wash of oxytocin and strength that rushed in on the tail end of each one.  I drove us home, asking Liz if her driver being in labor made her nervous. 

Things picked up Wednesday evening, but I still didn't feel we'd be rushing yet. The night was more restless, with contractions 10 minutes apart and 45 seconds long and harder to sleep through.  I got up to shower before Walt left in the morning. We had decided that he shouldn't use up a vacation day if nothing was going to happen, but I was sad he had to leave.  I had a prenatal appointment that morning, and we had called Hannah to drive me.  Yesterday's drive through the Old Village seemed like a long time ago.  I kissed Walt goodbye at the door in a bathrobe, and felt a contraction coming.  The bathrobe and towel on my head  felt incredibly heavy, and I told him to shut the door.  I dropped it all and stood there breathing through the contraction.  I heard Walt say quietly, "You're beautiful." 

At the birth center, Laurie (one of the midwives) asked how I was.  I couldn't resist messing with her a little.  "I'm in labor," I said.   Then I explained it was still pretty early.  She put me on the monitor and examined me.  We were 100% effaced but not dilated yet.  A little frustrated that 33 hours of early labor hadn't made more progress, I tried to remain optimistic.  Effacement is still progress, and people overlook that.  She told me to call when I reached the five minute mark or if my water broke.

I spent the rest of the day in bed, watching junk tv so I could mute it when I needed.  The rest of the mucous plug passed, beautiful like a tiny red octopus.  The back pain was stronger, and my sense of peace was slipping a little to frustration and nerves.  My instinct whispered to me that something might be off.  But I knew that we would handle what came along, and tried not to focus on it.

During one contraction, I knew I was having trouble staying on top of it because I thought, "Augh.  Forget this.  Just go get a c-section and get it over with."  I was just frustrated; giving natural birth in water was so important to me.  I had wondered for a long time if I would recognize the paper tigers that pounced during difficult moments. I saw it right away and began taking deep breaths and revisiting all of the amazing stories and encouragement I'd read.  Feeling better, I went back to breathing through it all.  I texted Christie, who sent back encouraging words. 

I was practicing a visualization exercise I had almost zero faith in where you imagine your body opening like a lotus, and I suddenly felt a distant pop.  Immediately after that came a small gush, like marsh water in your shoes.  I was lying on expensive new sheets, so I shot off the bed.  Yay!  This was a welcome change.  My excitement faded when I saw the fluid. It was murky and textured.  I thought it was supposed to be clear?  I made a handful of phone calls, first to Laurie.  "I think my water just broke, but I'm afraid if that's what it is, it isn't clear."  She reserved judgment but told me to come in.  Then to Walt, both Moms, my sister, and his sister Sara. Neither of the Moms nor Sara had seen their amniotic fluid before, so they could not reassure me that it wasn't what I feared.

Walt was on his way home from work and headed for the birth center.  His Mom picked me up and we headed that way in what had been one of my most dreaded scenarios...5:00 rush hour.  I am not patient in traffic, and I despise rush hour in Charleston.  To top it off, there was an accident at 526 and I-26.  We sat in traffic for a long time, with me pleading to escape it during contractions and apologizing while chowing down an apple and banana between them.

At the birth center, my family was excited but I was all business, waiting for my examination. Lesley took me back, but when she saw the fluid, she didn't need to examine me.  "Yep, that is meconium.  Get dressed," she said, "and we are going to talk about what is next." I wasn't sure, but I couldn't see how they could let me in their birthing tub with meconium flowing all around us.  In her office, she explained that there was an infection risk and that we would be transferring to Trident Hospital.  I couldn't help but cry.  We had protected our birth plan like a fragile egg through an in-utero diagnosis of hydronephrosis, positive test for the digestive bacteria  Group B strep, and severe edema that had my blood pressure creeping upward.  Lesley reminded me of all of this, and said, "We have never transferred a birth that didn't end with us saying there was a reason, that we are so glad this one was delivered in a hospital setting. Trust me, this will all make sense in the end."

We diverted the rest of the family to the hospital, and I arrived angry and frustrated.  "In ten minutes, I will be a happy laboring pregnant lady. But right now the birth I pictured is out the window and  I want to be a royal bitch."  No one argued with me.

My mom and I took over my L&D room, putting up a poster I'd made with facts, reminders, and encouragements from the books I read and our notes from birth class. Lesley had an electric oil diffuser, and I had brought lavender oil. We dimmed the lights and unpacked the picture of my mom and dad, the "God Bless This Child" plaque that hung over my crib, and the quilt Loretta had made.  I changed into clothes I could work in, and they ran my IV.  We met our L&D nurse, who was wonderful and believed in the value of natural birth.

They had to start me on a little Pitocin to get me dilated, but I asked them to keep it at the absolute minimum.  The fetal heart monitor had to stay on, which restricted my movement further.  I tried to set things up to make the best of it, sipped on protein drinks, and Walt and I got down to work. 

By this time, it was 10pm Thursday.  I had been at this for 46 hours, and though I was well practiced I was also tired.  Back labor makes it difficult to sit down, so the birthing ball and rocking chair weren't going to work.  I labored standing or leaned over the bed with Walt or my sister applying pressure to my back as long as I could, but eventually I was just too tired. I lay on my side with my Boppy pregnancy pillow, Julia at my back and Walt facing me to breathe through the contractions, both Moms in the background encouraging me.

I sent them out when I had to pee, which was often due to the IV, since getting to the bathroom with all the wires was frustrating and sitting down on the toilet was uncomfortable.  Eventually Walt just brought me a cup and slipped out until I was relieved.  At some point I became aware that I had given Walt's mom my phone and that she was still timing the contractions.  I was having trouble staying on top of the pain, and falling asleep between them and waking up with too little time to prepare myself before the next one.  Falling asleep between contractions is a blessing when you're relaxed, but I had worked myself into a stress ball and was only sleeping out of exhaustion.  And exhaustion is your biggest enemy in labor. 

Hilarity visited our tense little room when Walt, sitting by the bed on the birth ball, fell asleep.  He rolled backwards on the ball, and his mom stuck out her foot to catch him.  He switched to a chair and eventually, his hormones flowed in tune with mine and he would wake up instinctively seconds before I did, ready to coax me through another contraction.

I needed to get back in it, so at 2am Lesley and I decided to use sterile water ampules.  These are injected in the small of your back and serve to block the nerves that deliver back labor pain.  They feel like someone putting cigarettes out on you when they go in, but the relief is instantaneous and amazing.  Immediately after getting them, I could think clearly enough to realize we were doing a few things wrong.  Why did I have so many people in the room at once?  Who ever needed to time contractions like a monitored lab rat? How could I be ready for the next contraction if all I was doing was surviving the current one?  I asked our moms and Julia to go to the waiting room, and Walt and I started practicing labor breathing.  We took deep, heavy breaths in unison, and when the contractions came on I just breathed deeper and held on tighter.  I told myself that I had been through plenty by this point and that this one would pass into history just like the rest had.  For two hours, we enjoyed real, manageable labor. This was how it was supposed to be, and probably would have been if not for the complications. We worked hard, staring into each other's eyes, and I fell in love with him, with the process, and with my body all over again.  It was amazing, and it will be the thing that helps me choose natural labor again. I felt refreshed, high from the heavy oxygen intake, and at the same peace as while sitting in the ocean on Wednesday afternoon.

When the ampules wore off, I asked Lesley to do them again.  Same injection burning, same relief.  But this time I had a ton of oxygen in my bloodstream, and I metabolized them in under 45 minutes.  When the back pain returned, I knew I couldn't handle the injections again for such short relief.  It was 6am, and  my exhaustion wasn't a paper tiger.  After 54 hours, I needed an epidural.

Amazingly, I wasn't dilated enough yet for the epidural, so I made the only decision I am unsure about in retrospect.  I had narcotics put in my IV. They dulled the discomfort slightly, but they  made me loopy and emotional during contractions.  It wasn't really worth it.  However, I was in a difficult position and maybe I'd do the same if I had it to do all over again.

The epidural was night and day, and I understand now how for women who don't handle pain well, it is a lifesaver.  I learned when I destroyed my ankle in 2006 that I handle pain better than I handle medication. My hours of unmedicated labor showed me how strong I am and made me appreciate my body so much.  I would not want an epidural unless I had to have one again, but it served its purpose well when the time came.  You could see huge contractions on the monitor, but I felt nothing. It was sad to be taken out of the game, but I needed the rest.  Numb from my chest down, catheterized, Pitocin cranked up and unable to move, I slept most of the morning.  At 10am, I was 8 cm dilated.  Laurie came in to take over for Lesley.

By noon Friday, I had slept so much that I had not kept amping up the anesthesia as I should have, and it was wearing off. The only strong pain I noticed was severe stomach cramps. I hadn't had a real meal in 24 hours and a lot had happened.  Laurie said Jackson's heart rate had dropped slightly, and that though I was 9.5 cm, he hadn't dropped.  She could feel his head molded by my uterus pushing him down, but the rest of him hadn't followed.  I started to understand why we had meconium in our fluid. And since he was OP before my water broke, he was probably still in this position, making his trip down more difficult.  By all estimations, I probably needed to give birth by Cesarean. I tried pushing once, but was unable to move him. Laurie had another mom coming into the birth center in labor, but would send Lesley in to see us through.

I sent everyone but Walt out of the room and asked him to put on "Blackbird" from our birth playlist.   Tears rolled down my face and I thought back to that frustrated contraction, a million years ago, in bed at home.  Was all of this a waste of energy? Should I have thrown in the towel then?  "This is my worst nightmare," I said.

Walt held my hand and said, "No, your worst nightmare was being bullied into a medically unnecessary procedure.  You have done everything, you have made the best decisions you could have made.  If you do this, it will be because you need to."

Lesley explained that I could take two hours if I wanted to push, but if nothing happened, I would need the surgery to protect myself and Jackson.  This would mean I could not deliver at the birth center by VBAC later, I would have to be in the hospital.  I was more exhausted than I could have imagined possible, and my stomach pains were overwhelming.  I decided to just go with the C-section.  My mom and sister, exhausted as well, came in to comfort me before surgery.

My anxieties got the better of me briefly as we transitioned into the operating room, and for a little while there under the bright lights, I was a pretty bad patient.  But the anesthesia started to work, and when Walt came in his presence comforted me.  I recalled our birth class where Cynthia walked us through a C-section as we squirmed in our seats.  First would be the numbing, then the cut, then the pressure, then the sweep of the placenta. It all came back to me. Our birth playlist tinkled in the background, playing Rufus Wainwright's version of "Hallelujah," Chris Thomas' "Brian Petit," and Allison Kraus' "Down in the River to Pray."  The doctor and Lesley talked to each other, the nurses and the anesthesiologists talked to each other, machines beeped, and I shot nervous questions over the blue divider while Walt comforted me and we exchanged I love yous.

And suddenly, over all of that noise in the tiny room, a baby cried.

Walt and I stared at each other for a split second, and then both of us began to cry too. They lowered the divider and Lesley held him up, screaming and bloody, for me to see.  He was beautiful, long and loud, and looked exactly like his 32 week ultrasound. Jackson Walter Markiewicz, born at 3:39 on July 22, weighing 7 lb 14 oz, 21 inches long and with the craziest molding on his head that you'll ever see. They bathed him and Walt ran over to take pictures.  Then a nurse brought him over, swaddled and wearing a hat, and explained that  he had pneumothoraces, or pressure from air around his lungs, and he was headed for the NICU. He blinked up at me, impervious to the words flying over him.  I kissed his face over and over and wished I could hold him.  But they needed to take him and I was shivering like I was lying in an ice floe, so I just kept asking the nurse when I could feed him and when I could lie skin to skin with him. 

Lesley brought me apple juice for my stomach during recovery, and I discovered that I had taken my "God Bless This Child" plaque with me to the delivery room.  I had forgotten that.  They wheeled me down the hall, on my back under recurrent fluorescent lights like in the movies. I saw a man walking backwards out of a room, and then they wheeled me into that room.  The man followed us in, and he turned out to be Jackson's neonatologist, Dr. Shepherd.  He said Jackson was doing great, and that I could visit him in the NICU when I was able to get up.  The nurses said that I would need to stay in bed overnight.  I slowly realized that this meant I would not see Jackson until the next day.  The only thing I could do was accept this. If I let the disappointment creep in, I would unravel completely.

Our family visited Jackson, and every time Walt went over I asked him to take pictures.  I pumped little victorious golden drops of colostrum and tried not to have a breakdown.  The next morning, I pushed the nurses to help me get the catheter out, then to the bathroom to prove I could walk and pee on my own, then the IV out, then in a wheelchair on my way to see my son.

About noon, Walt wheeled me across the hall. I was stunned to realize the NICU had been so close all this time.  He helped me stand up at Jackson's cot in the NICU, where I could touch and kiss him.  The same nurse I questioned in the operating room explained that Dr. Shepherd would have to examine him before he could have my milk, but that it would probably be by bottle.  We helped her bathe him, and when the doctor came around he listened to his chest and said, "Would you like to nurse?"  I almost fell back into my wheelchair.  They set up a divider and while he was still only wearing a  diaper, he latched on before I even had a chance to wonder how to do it.  We lay skin to skin and nursed for the first time.

I had imagined a hospital stay being harsh and confrontational for our leftist hippie ways.  But we felt like guests rather than patients at Trident.  They backed us 100% on breastfeeding and baby bonding and did what they could to make us feel at home and comfortable.

The next day, while Walt was at Josh and Olena's wedding as a groomsman, they let Jackson room out with us and Mom and I surprised Walt when he came back in his tux with a baby in the room.  The day after that, we came home.  That was almost eight weeks ago, and it has been the longest and shortest eight weeks of my life. We watched our little baby get x-rayed for his hydronephrosis and accepted that in another era or culture, we would have both died from our labor complications. We stand in awe over him as he sleeps, unaware that our whole little world has revolved around him since the day I saw that second little pink line.  Our friends and family, particularly my mom and  Julia, have extended themselves greatly to assist us as we transitioned from two to three in all of the awkward, frustrating, amazing ways that you do.

 I have been overjoyed and felt love  to the point of sobbing, I have experienced a brief bit of PPD, and I have looked in the  mirror and not known who was staring back at me. It has been a joy to get to know that person all over again, as well as my partner, and most of all, our son.  As he lies here on my chest chirping at a pacifier that has slipped out of his mouth, I think about all the other moms in the world and history going through this too.  Before I went into labor, our pastor said to me, "A million other women have done what you are about to do.  But not you."  Like falling in love, giving birth is comfortably universal, but also singularly your own.

I realize now that my whole labor, that anyone's whole labor, is a beautiful and incredible journey.  Your experience is the sum of its parts, from start to finish, and that is the best reason that being present and being part of the process  is so sweet.  When I made the decisions I had to make, I hadn't given up or failed; I had been led slowly out into the deep end and made the best moves that kept my lungs full of air and delivered us both safely to the other side.  Every one of my 64 hours of labor, from the first contraction through our surgery, was part of becoming a Mom, a little lesson I needed to learn to get there.

Adventures in Cloth Diapering

We've been using cloth diapers for almost a year now, and it's been an experience all of its own.  When I first heard of cloth diapers, an older friend of mine told me horror stories of collecting them in stinky buckets until you had enough to wash and of swishing them in the toilet to rinse them out.  I was completely turned off by that idea, but decided to try them anyway when other friends raved about them (and showed me the awesome snaps, elastic, and cute colors! Look! They're easy, we promise!)  This post isn't meant to be an extensive review of cloth diapering, just some commentary on some things I've discovered over the past year.

One thing I've learned is that it's worth your time to experiment with different brands of diapers, something I didn't do in the beginning and wish I had.  Before Anne was born, I wanted it to be as simple as possible, so I went with Fuzzibunz diapers because you could order a "Starter Pack."  It came with 18 diapers that could be adjusted from newborn to 30 lbs, 2 pail liners, a lined and zippered bag to put dirty diapers in when away from home, scented oil to help with the smell, a jug of special laundry detergent, and cloth wipes (which I use as washcloths, I actually prefer disposable wipes).  I can tend to be sortof a brand whore sometimes and had no interest in trying other brands of cloth diapers.  I figured one was as good as another and shopping around was too much work (I'm not a good shopper, for anything. I find and I buy, I'm terrible at comparing prices/quality/etc. to find the best deal).   This was a mistake, as I have recently learned.  If you're going to do cloth diapers, you owe it to yourself to try several brands.  Fuzzibunz worked great in the beginning, but it turns out my daughter is a Pee Monster(tm) and can now soak 3 Fuzzibunz diapers in less than 2 hours, so they leak like crazy.  I recently bought some BumGenius Elementals and discovered they work amazingly well.  Anne can wear one for at least 2 hours with no leaks.  

Natural fibers (cotton, hemp) rather than microfleece and microfiber are WAY more absorbent; the extra washing time required in the beginning (6-7 washes before wearable) is totally worth it even if it seems daunting at first.  Hemp doublers (a thin, extra insert for pocket diapers) have also helped considerably.  I like my Fuzzibunz diapers for the most part, especially the fact that they have adjustable elastic and snaps so I don't have to keep buying bigger sizes.  But there are definitely other brands that work as well or better and having a variety is a good thing.  (much thanks to my cloth diapering mama friends who helped me with this issue!)

Another thing I've learned is that  the reality of washing them is not that far off from the original presentation that I found so unappealing. Now, don't get me wrong, I like using cloth diapers and I will do it again if there's a baby #2 in the future.  But cleaning them is definitely a down side.  Newborn diapers are easy.  Their poo is liquid so you just toss them in the diaper pail (with nice, washable liner complete with tab for scented oil) and then toss them in the washer.  (for those of you who are still squeamish about the idea of poo being in your washer, let me ask you this...if you wash a muddy shirt does the mud stay in your washer for the next load? no? then why do you think poo is any different? it washes away like any other kind of dirt).  But then baby starts solid food and it gets much more interesting.  The hard solid kind is easy to pull off and put in the toilet.  The messy squishy kind, not so much, and I have wanted to murder my other cloth diapering friends for talking me into this pretty much every time I have to clean one of those off.  Some people use sprayers but I envisioned myself making a huge mess with one of those as I lack coordination on even my good days, so I use latex gloves and toilet paper to handle that.  Fortunately these messy diapers gradually dwindle to one on occasion so it's not the end of the world, but it does require some perseverance. And a lot of great air freshener for the bathroom.  That being said, there are far less poopy diapers than pee diapers and the pee diapers are gloriously easy to deal with, so I still think it's worth it to use cloth over disposables.  

Pros:

* Cost effective over time (pay for themselves in about 4-5 months)
* Greener / less trash

* No diaper rashes

* Cute
* Can change baby anywhere because you don't have to hunt down a trashcan if you're out because you pack the dirty ones with you

* Leak-proof if you have the right kind for your child

* No worry about crazy chemical burns / disposable diaper recalls

Cons:

* Daily/almost daily laundry depending on how many you own

* Cleaning the poop off is disgusting no matter how you do it

* Upfront cost is expensive

* Need special detergent / washing instructions
* Can have leaking issues if they get build-up or you're using the wrong kind for your child

* Bulky, may need to size up baby's clothes

If you're considering cloth diapering, just know you're getting yourself into a lot of extra work.  It's work that's worth it, though :-)

Labor Day Weekend Fun

Three day weekends rock.  The only thing that put a damper on this one was Kristian's absence as he spent the weekend in downtown Atlanta attending DragonCon.  I stayed home with Anne, which meant I got her all to myself this weekend (though by her crawling around and calling out "Da da da da?!" all the time I could tell she missed him too).

Friday started off wonderfully with me getting off at 1:00, though it wasn't so great to get a call from the daycare saying Anne had a fever and I needed to come get her.  When we got home we took a nap together for several hours, had dinner together and eventually went to bed.

Saturday morning Anne and I ventured out to the Decatur Book Festival.  We walked around and looked at the booths.  I was on a mission to find the Pete the Cat booth but there wasn't one.  I bought Anne a book called The Knot Fairy whose author was dressed in awesome fairy wings and signed the book for Anne.  Went by Little Shop of Stories to get the Pete book and stuffed doll I wanted, and Anne and I had lunch at the Pita Pit and got some frozen yogurt from the Yogurt Tap.   We were only in Decatur for a couple of hours but it was fun and we headed for home when Anne started to get cranky.  Laid down for a nap with hopes of waking up in time to go visit Vern and Amanda only to have a super cranky baby on my hands, so we didn't make it out again.  Anne has decided that bed time is for chumps and she tends to nurse and then want to play some, and twice this weekend I had to rock her to get her to finally settle down.  Speaking of which, I need to buy a rocking chair, because doing it manually makes my back feel like it's on fire.

Sunday we got up and headed to Atlanta to have brunch with Kristian and walk around DragonCon some.  Jarrett was sweet and gave me one of his badges so I could actually see stuff with Kristian.  We walked through the Hall of Fame (yay hott tv stars!), Dealers' Room, Art Show, and Exbitors' Hall.   I carried Anne in the Moby and I couldn't get over how dense the crowds were; I think having a baby in tow made me hyper-sensitive to the other people around me.  In past years the crowds haven't bothered me but this year it was really overwhelming.  Anne fell asleep on my chest toward the end of it, poor girl.   We got home late enough that I just fed her, bathed her, and put her to bed and spent the rest of my night reading.

Monday we headed back to Atlanta to pick Kristian up from his hotel and then we spent the day playing with Anne and lounging around our house.  It was rainy and gross outside so it was a good day for bumming around.  And I swear Anne said the word "Up" when I was trying to put her to bed.  She was fighting sleep and I laid her down on the mattress and she said "Uuuuuup!! Uuuuup!!"  But who knows.

Speaking of 3 day weekends....starting next week I will have Fridays off every week.  I can't wait. :-D

For my sister:

Dear Kayla:

Because I know you read this, I just wanted to say I love you and I miss you.

Always,

Sisi