I'm Honored

When it came time to give birth to Ella, I was the biggest proponent and out-spoken advocate of natural, un-medicated childbirth, as many of you know.

But a little part of me - the tiniest, little bit of a self-conscious new mama deep inside - wasn't sure I could do it.

I wasn't sure how I'd handle a pain I'd never felt; I wasn't sure how intense of an experience I was purposefully putting myself into.

Thanks to how the majority of women give birth in our country, my fear wasn't helped.

I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Oh, just you wait till you feel labor. You'll be screaming for drugs."

Or, "You're so naive. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Or, "Are you insane? What do you mean you won't give birth in a hospital? What if something goes wrong? Your baby could die!"

Blessedly, I trusted my body and what it was designed to do, and I was able to give birth to Ella just how I wanted to.

And, no, not once did I scream, ask for drugs, or fear for my baby's life.

"We have a secret in our culture, and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong."
- Laura Stavoe Harm

In fact, I loved it. I'd do it again in a heart-beat. And now, on the other end of it, I have no doubt that I gave my child the best birth possible.

Luckily, I had a fair amount of support: nurse-midwives who were top-notch, an amazing husband, parents and friends who believed the same thing I did.

They helped me counteract the nay-sayers.

"Only with trust, faith, and support can the woman allow the birth experience to enlighten and empower her. Women's strongest feelings [in terms of their birthings], positive and negative, focus on the way they were treated by their caregivers."
- Annie Kennedy & Penny Simkin

But I fully realize that so many other women don't have those options and that support.

I've heard too many stories of women getting episiotomies they didn't want and weren't told about; ladies forced into epidurals from a nurse's fear tactics; mamas given C-sections because they were told their babies were "just too big."

So, frankly, I still think the natural birth world has a long way to go. There's a lot of work left for us to do before women can "take back birth."

Which is why I'm thrilled that another fabulous Web site was born out of a desire for just that.

"The wisdom and compassion a woman can intuitively experience in childbirth can make her a source of healing and understanding for other women."
- Stephen Gaskin

Focus on Birth is a new page that hopes to use a body of growing resources and birth stories to help empower and inform women about natural, un-medicated childbirth.

And, yesterday, they published my birth story.

Really, I'm so honored.

And I'm so happy and hopeful that this site and the stories on it, including mine, will teach women that they are amazing and capable of bringing their babies into the world in the manner they see as best.

'"If we are to heal the planet, we must begin by healing birth."
- Agnes Sallet Von Tannenberg
***

Please visit the wonderful, new site Focus on Birth. You can find them here and my birth story here.

***

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

What I Did Right

Multiple times a day, I feel like a failure.

Whether it's because I don't know what Ella wants, or because I still haven't dusted my house since Ella's been born, or because I'm simply too tired to deal with the fact that my husband thinks it's funny to pretend to touch my sore boobs only to see my recoil in horror, it's hard to escape a day as a new mommy without feeling like, "I must be doing something wrong!"

It's even worse for a Type-A perfectionist like me.

And, if left to my own devices too long, I start to stew in my own worries: That something's seriously wrong with Ella, that something's seriously wrong with me, that something's seriously wrong with my poor dog, who's been sorely neglected in the affection department since Ella came along.

You name it, I've worried about it recently.

Even if I read, somewhere, that there's a 0.0001 percent chance that Ella could have some chromosomal abnormality, or that I could have some kind of weird, uncommon breast infection, or that my husband could be experiencing some sort of new-dad syndrome, I worry.

The chances are slim, I know. But my brain goes there.

Which is why, as of late, I've tried - hard - to remember what I'm doing well. What I'm doing right.

Because amid the baby blues and the breast pain and the sleepless nights with a newborn, I know I have made some good decisions. I know, in this whole pregnancy-new-baby process, I did some things really, really right.

Plus, I've gotten quite a few e-mails recently asking me about pregnancy/post-partum recommendations, and I'd love to answer them all individually, but typing that many e-mails with one hand isn't feasible right now.

So, today, I'm blogging about it. About what, exactly, I did right.

Because I am largely imperfect, and I've made a ton of mistakes already. But there certain things I've undertaken along this baby journey that were worth it and that, without a doubt, I wouldn't take back.

***

I exercised and practiced yoga

I'm not going to beat a dead horse. I know I've harped on this enough. But I cannot begin to tell you how little pain I felt post-delivery. Truly, it was amazing.

I could lift heavy things, bend over easily, and jog, even, two hours after having Ella. Granted, I had a drug-free labor and delivery, so that helped. But largely, I think the biggest thing was the exercise I did right up until delivery.

Other people complain of soreness and vaginal pain, cramping, and a feeling of weakness, post-delivery.

Not me. Not even a little bit. I kept waiting to feel like I'd been "hit by a truck," like my midwives told me I would. But nope. Hours, days, and weeks after having Ella, and I haven't felt even a stitch of pain from delivery.

This goes hand in hand with the pre-natal yoga I was religious about during my pregnancy.

It truly calmed my mind and opened my body up for delivery. I found myself doing a ton of the breathing exercises throughout labor and even after, while Ella and I were learning to breast-feed, and the pain was so excruciating.

I found places to go where I was comfortable

One of the hardest things about my post-partum recovery was leaving my house. While at times I felt like a prisoner, trapped in our little place, other times I felt (and sometimes still feel) terrified to leave our little safety net.

It takes a lot of work to take a baby out. And it takes a lot of mental agility to handle them should they start to get fussy, say, in the middle of the grocery store when you've got a cart full of stuff.

Plus, we breast-feeding moms can have a whopper of a time finding a place to sit down where we can surreptitiously place our crying baby on the boob without flashing our goods to the entire world. Not mention that, if you're like me, and experienced nipple trauma and pain while breast-feeding, wearing a bra and latching your baby on in, say, the Target snack section, can be harrowing.

So, what to do? I found that, within reason, going places I'm comfortable was the best thing for my mental psyche.

Whether it's a friend's house for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon or a breast-feeding group, you'll be amazed at how alive you feel after a quick bit of adult time. Because even if you have to feed your baby at either location, you're comfortable enough that it's not terribly stressful, plus, the distraction of company keeps your mind off of the pain or the fact that your baby wants to eat yet again.

I found (health) help I was comfortable around

If I called my midwives, crying, in the middle of the night, I would not be embarrassed.

They know who I am. They know how to handle me. And I wholeheartedly trust them and their advice.

On my first day alone with Ella - without my mother to help or my husband, who'd gone back to work - I had to go to my one-week post-partum visit at the birth center. I was sweating like I pig I was so stressed getting Ella and I out of the house.

But the second I walked into the birth center and hugged two of our midwives, I swear, I literally felt my stress melt away.

It was like walking into my home. I could cry there if I needed to. Ella could cry there, and no one would give me the stink eye. I could breast-feed there without worry or concern, and I could rely on the entire staff to know who I was and how to handle me if something was seriously wrong.

But the fact is, I spent a lot of time at the birth center and with these women over the past year. I took my birthing class there, my yoga class there, all my appointments were there, and of course, Ella was born there. There were weeks where I was at the birth center three times a week.

So, unlike most doctor's offices, the center and my practitioners were, and are, a respite, and not a requirement.

I cloth-diapered

I cannot tell you how easy it's been to put Ella in cloth diapers. Since she was a week old, we've exclusively used cloth, and both the hubs and I couldn't be happier.

Sure, it's a few extra loads of laundry a week, but the fact that I don't have to run out and buy diapers - something that, again, can be a huge feat with a newborn - is a life-saver.

Plus, her little hiney is as healthy as can be, and you can't put a price-tag on that.

I learned my baby's signals

When Ella was but hours old, the midwife told me, "Every baby is different, but trust me, you will learn your baby's cries and signals and cues soon enough. Don't worry. She'll let you know what she needs."

In the first few weeks of Ella's life, I have to admit, I thought my midwife's advice was crock.

And then I realized, about a month in, how right she was.

I now know when Ella is gassy, tired, or hungry. I can tell when she wants to nurse for nourishment or simply because she's over-tired. And I know that, after a certain time in the evening, if she's not home, snuggled in bed nursing with me, she's going to get cranky.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I actually understand Ella now. And, thus, I've been able to avoid many a break-down by putting her to sleep before she gets really cranky and over-tired. Or feeding her a bit early or late simply because that's when she's hungry. Or letting her fuss a bit so I can finish my lunch because I know she's full, clean, and just wants to be held. (Or holding her because, at a certain time in the day, that's the only thing that works. She refuses to be put down.)

I now "get" my baby. I'm not sure how, but I do. And thank God for that.

I gave my husband clear expectations

I've gone through huge periods of frustration with the hubs post-partum, mostly because 1) he has no idea how hard all this is, and 2) he sometimes creates bigger issues than the baby.

But a few weeks ago, I realized that it wasn't the poor guy's fault. He legitimately tried to be helpful, but he didn't understand that sometimes, it just took waking up and sitting next to me while I nursed Ella yet again, to make me feel better.

I also came to grips with the fact that he didn't quite get how his leaving his work boots out on the living room floor could send me into a tail-spin when I'd been doing my darnedest to take care of the house and the baby all day.

So, instead of yelling at the man or freaking out on him, I started stating, "Babe, tonight, I'm going to need you to get up with me and the baby. I need someone to talk me through nursing."

Or, "Babe, when you get home, can you please vacuum for me? I won't have time today, but the dog hair on the carpet is making me feel really out of control."

With clear expectations, the hubs has been more than willing to help. Which means I'm much less likely to lose my basket of emotions all over the guy when he walks in the door after being gone all day and tells me he's going to go meet some friends to play racquetball.

It's a win-win for us both.

I stopped my doubting my body

Last week, I was worried about my milk supply. Ella was nursing so much, I was worried she wasn't getting enough, and that's why she was always returning to the boob.

I looked up every method for milk production in the book. I Googled "Is your baby getting enough breast-milk?" about 28 times.

But nothing comforted me. I was still so worried.

Then I went to breast-feeding group and had the lactation consultant weigh Ella, like we do every week.

"Nine pounds, 15 ounces!" she announced, shocked. "No wonder she was nursing so much. She was growing. She gained 15 ounces in one week! That's an ounce short of a full pound!"

At 5.5 weeks old, Ella's gained almost three pounds since birth.

Um, yeah. Me thinks my body's producing enough milk, wouldn't you say?

Turns out, my body had this under control all along. It was just my mind that wasn't in tune.

***

So, now, tell me: What did you do right? When you look back on your pregnancy or time as a mom, what are you so happy you did/joined/started?

Heck, anyone can play along. What's one thing you've done right recently that you're proud of - baby or non-baby related? Share below.

Happy Thursday, everyone!

My Daughter's Birth

By Saturday morning, June 11, I had fully convinced myself I had several weeks left before my daughter was going to be born.

It was a survival mechanism, really; I was miserable, waiting her and wanting her to be here.

So I told myself to try and find some patience and just enjoy myself. The hubs and I made grand plans for a fun Saturday at - where else? - Costco, to stock up on all the bulk foods we'd need before Ella was born, plus he was treating me to hot and spicy lunch of my favorite, Thai food.

I was actually really excited. What can I say? I love me some bulk foods and Asian fusion cuisine.

Which is why, when I woke up that morning, I attributed my quick, excited rise from the bed, plus my 38-week pregnant body, as the reason I seemed to pee myself.

I literally spilled liquid on the bed.

I was shocked. And then, I remembered that the midwives had me inserting evening primrose oil vaginally for the last two weeks, and, well, there was bound to be some residual fluid, I thought.

So, I ignored it. I started making breakfast, actually.

Occasionally, I'd bend over and feel another trickle. Or I'd reach for a pot and feel a small gush.

And, as silly as it sounds, I kept writing it off. In fact, I just thought I was finally losing all bladder control.

So I changed my underwear. And I changed them again.

I was finally on my third pair when my husband told me a joke and made me laugh, resulting in a small gush of fluid that soaked through my yoga pants and onto our couch.

I ran to the bathroom, ready to change my underwear yet again.

Then I realized how clear and odor-less the fluid was that had left my body.

It definitely wasn't pee. It definitely wasn't discharge. I wasn't sure what it was, but it was flowing enough for me to begin to question it. Finally.

So, being of sound mind and all - and still totally convinced I had a few weeks before I could expect to feel the tell-tale contractions signifying real labor - I called my mother and a few friends.

I asked them exactly what I should expect with a loss of amniotic fluid.

They all immediately talked me into calling the people I should have all along: my midwives.

I felt horrible; it was a Saturday, after all, and I was pulling one of these women away from family. I just knew it.

But the on-call midwife wouldn't even think of letting me "wait and see," as I suggested on the phone with her, and she had the hubs and me come on in to the birth center to be examined.

Once there, she had me lay down on the exam table to "have a look."

But before I even got on my back, I'd soaked through the table's covering cloth, and in her words, "Well, I don't even need to look at that. That's amniotic fluid. You're in labor, whether your body knows it or not."

We were able to ascertain I was having regular, albeit rather weak contractions, but being that active labor needs to start within 24 hours of one's membrane rupturing (per natural midwifery standards - doctor and hospital standards are quite different when it comes to this) she set up a plan for my Saturday.

And it definitely didn't involve Costco and Thai food.

***

The midwife sent us home, where I immediately started taking a black cohosh supplement, along with what my midwives call a "natural induction cocktail" - 1 cup of champagne, I cup of apricot nectar, 4 tablespoons of almond butter, and 4 ounces of castor oil. (Note: Do not take this unless you are told to by a health practitioner. My midwives pointed out that not all women have a "favorable cervix" for the cocktail, and even if they did, they really only use this recipe when a woman's water breaks before active labor starts.)

Luckily, for me, within 10 minutes of taking a long walk with the hubs and drinking the odd-but-not-unpleasant-tasting cocktail, I could feel my contractions.

I didn't even have time to take the midwife-prescribed nap before I was having to work through them.

They weren't bad, but they were immediately lasting over a minute long each and quickly went from eight minutes apart to six minutes apart to four minutes apart.

Meanwhile, my mother and one of my best friends were speeding up from Florida, trying to make it to us in time for the birth.

I was naked before I knew it, pacing about our house, stopping and rocking on all fours or on the birthing ball, low-moaning through them like I'd been taught in my birthing class.

I felt the contractions mostly in my back and tail-bone - their was nothing abdominal about them at all, much to my surprise. It was at this point that I realized I wasn't going to rest until my daughter was here; laying down was excruciating.

Finally, I got in our shower. I'd lay limp in the hot water during my rest periods and then squat and move during contractions, grunting.

My contractions were now less than two minutes apart and had been for quite a while. I was able to talk during the breaks, but I won't lie; the contractions hurt. I had to focus in order to make it through each one.

My mom and friend arrived around 9:30 that night, and I was definitely feeling the now very active labor.

They helped me get dressed, loaded the car with the hubs, and we all headed toward the birth center after calling the midwife.

It was time to have this baby.

***

We arrived, unloaded, and the midwife checked me.
I was only four centimeters dilated, but I was completely effaced and the baby was super low.

Disappointed I'd only progressed to four centimeters, I hopped up and began to walk; I wanted to get that baby out.

When I couldn't walk outside anymore, I got in their shower. Then they brought the birthing ball into the shower, and I rolled there for a while.

I was six centimeters within the hour, and things were starting to really get to me.

I was on all fours on the bed, rolling my upper body on the birthing ball. I was lunging on the bed - one foot up, one foot down. I was squatting, and my friend was slowly pressing on my sacrum while I did so. I was grunting and moaning deep and low, trying to loosen up my sphincters to allow myself to progress.

Still, at this point, I started to struggle to relax. Occasionally, my grunts would turn to whimpers. I'd cry out once in a while. It hurt, plain and simple. And it was starting to take over.

My midwife, who very calmly remained their but let me do my thing, got in my face a few times when she heard me start to lose it and reminded me to work through them; that this was my body doing good work.

Still, I was having trouble remaining open to it.

So I asked to get in the birthing tub.

In that moment, my whole world changed.

My contractions got worse, but I was able to drift away in between them and focus on being open and letting the baby come down and out.
The hubs was in the tub with me, and I leaned against him between contractions and literally spaced off at times.
I quickly made it to nine centimeters.

My midwife was satisfied, and everyone got a bit more excited because the end was in sight.

Everyone except me, that is.

I, meanwhile, was in what my friend called a "birth trance."

I really remember very little of what happened at this point.

My mom said I was literally "staring through people, walls, everything."

When a contraction would hit, I'd move, squat, grip the side of the tub, bear down, and do a whole host of random things I was unaware of. In between, I'd lie limp on my husband.

I quickly made it to almost 10 centimeters and was in a whole other planet getting there.

It was, hands down, one of the most bizarre, out-of-body experiences ever. I came to just enough to hold still so the midwife could help push back the top lip of my cervix during a contraction. That, frankly, was one of the worst part of the whole experiences. But that was one of the only things I remember from this point on.

It was over quickly, and I was complete. I was ready to push.

The first few minutes of pushing were scary for me. I remember thinking, "I cannot do this. I don't know how to do this. How in the heck am I going to do this?"

My mom, who knows me better than anyone, said she saw that look come over my face, too.

In other words, I looked and felt terrified.

I was completely scared to push. I even thought to myself, "Do I have to? I'm just so tired."

I was clearly not being rational, and so, my first few pushes were feeble.

I was leaning back against the hubs and pushing aimlessly. It still hurt all in my back and tailbone to bear down like that, and I felt like I was fighting a losing battle.

I came to enough to ask the midwife if I could flip over. On all fours, it all felt much more manageable. I could push stronger, and I then began, in my own head, to talk myself through each contraction and its resulting pushes.
Meanwhile, in between contractions, I began to fall asleep.

Literally, I dozed off. Furthermore, I had dreams. Dreams that had nothing to do with birth or my baby or anything infant-related.

I'd come to, push and grunt, and then pass out on my husband and dream senseless dreams yet again.

It was insane - I'd read pregnant women did that during un-medicated childbirth, but I'd never thought it would happen to me - and looking back on it, I am immensely glad it did. It was definitely my way of coping.

At one point, I'd been pushing for about 35 minutes, and I fell into such a deep slumber that, when I woke up, I startled, not knowing where I was, who I was, and what the heck I was doing.

I thrashed in the tub - my husband had to duck - and I flipped back over on my butt, leaning against him.

The midwife quickly grabbed me and told me to push, and again, I bear-ed down, but I don't remember it. My mom told me later that, after the contraction, I'd yelled out, "I fell asleep," like I was embarrassed.

Luckily, though, that was the turning point for me.

I continued to push for 10 more minutes. I knew I was close. I could pick up on the tones of the midwife and my mom and friend that they could see the baby's head, and I could feel the stretching as she crowned.

Still, I was so out of it that, when the midwife told me to touch her head, apparently I told her, "I can't. I can't."

I just kept pushing. The only thing I remember is my midwife telling me to stop, so she could check that the baby didn't have the cord wrapped around her neck.

Ella was a good baby the whole time. She didn't, and we continued; we were so close.

The last five minutes I completely blanked out. I don't remember pushing her head out at all. I remember the burning - the infamous "ring of fire" all women talk about - and apparently, I looked at my friend at one point and yelped, "It's burning!" But other than that, I don't remember her head emerging or the rest of her body.

I came to when everyone started yelling in joy, and I looked down - literally in shock - to find myself holding a baby.

Our baby.

Our little Ella.
Then, little pieces of the room started coming back to me: My husband, bawling and holding both Ella and I; my mom and friend, crying and snapping photos, and the midwife, who had literally touched her as she came out underwater and scooped her right up into my arms, apparently, silently beaming.
I peeked between her legs, mostly to ascertain that she was, indeed, a little girl. (We actually never got a 100-percent guarantee of her gender on the ultrasound, so I always had reservations that I might be raising a little boy in a lot of pink onesies.)

And then, we were just there, in the tub, Ella crying and my husband and I staring at her.

Our new little family, now completed by a 7 pound, 0.5 ounce little girl born at 4 a.m. on June 12.

***

Afterwards, things moved really quickly. After her cord blood stopped pulsing, the hubs cut the cord, and he took Ella up against his bare chest to warm her while they got me out of the tub and onto the bed to deliver the placenta.
I had what seemed to be uncontrollable shakes - a normal aftermath of delivery, especially natural delivery, I'm told - but within minutes, I'd pushed out the placenta, been covered in a warm blanket, and had the baby placed back on my chest.

I felt a thousand pounds lighter.
The pokes and prods by the midwife - checking all my business - felt like next to nothing. The nurse taking my blood pressure and the baby's temperature I barely noticed.

I was simply staring at my daughter, enthralled.

I was in absolute shock that she was ours, to keep. That, less than 24 hours before, I'd awoken, nowhere even near considering I'd have a baby that day.

It was like a dream - a crazy, happy dream that we'd somehow made our reality, and I'd yet to figure out how.
Now, eight days out from it, I still can't believe we had our baby. That she's become even more of my world than I ever thought possible. I adore her; I miss her when I'm not holding her.

I will be happy forevermore if I am nothing more than her mama for the rest of my life.

Her birthday was my birth as a mother. It was the day my entire world took on a different hue.

I'd re-live every labor pain over and over again for that. For the amazing feeling it is to be someone's mother and to hold, in my arms, my child.

My little Ella.

***

I have so much more to share. Post-partum healing, breast-feeding, the life and times of co-sleeping, milk comas, and days' old pediatric weight check-ins.

I feel like I've had too easy; I have a great support system, and even though my water broke before I started labor - a "less-than-desirable" circumstance, according to our midwives - I had few other issues; I didn't tear or even have major issues rebounding from my back labor.

Furthermore, Ella is a healthy, happy, wonderful baby.
But even with all that, our world has been wild this past week.

Still, that will all have to wait for another day. For now, I've got to go nurse my daughter and marvel at the wonder that she is. That is, furthermore, her birth.

Thank you, again, for all your support and comments as we welcomed our baby girl into this world last week.

She is, without a doubt, the best thing my husband and I have ever done, and we feel blessed that so many others share in our joy.

***

Be back tomorrow! Happy Monday, everyone!