september mama

i read liam's birth story again yesterday and it struck me as very fact-oriented and missing some critical details that i am afraid i will not remember if i don't put them in writing now. so here is an alternative viewpoint on liam's birth, from the perspective of "we know the facts, now what was it really like?"

i remember labor with him being so short--it came on fast, got really intense (but always remained bearable), and once i was in the bath it was as if time just froze for me. i was warm, comfortable minus the contractions, which were, naturally, a force to reckon with, but i never felt like i couldn't do it. with rowan, i remember being in SO MUCH pain, and despite all the "slow dancing" and ball-rocking and open-mouthed O moaning i did, i was constantly on the verge of losing it. i wasn't within myself, as i have mentioned before. with liam's labor, i was relaxed. it had just gotten dark outside and was turning rainy, but i didn't notice... i was in the dark in my bathtub, riding waves of pain and rest, pain and rest. i don't have any recollection of one contraction being worse than another, except once (i'll get into that shortly). i do remember a period of feeling like i had slept--i had no sense of time throughout all this--and then feeling the contractions change and become productive... i felt pushing before my midwife, doula, or mother arrived, but i didn't tell anyone because i was confident that he would come out safely even if i had to do it alone. i had a sense of overwhelming calm and solidity all the way down into every part of me; i was ready for the birth on all levels of my being. i just sat back and let it happen, and i know the reason i was able to do that was because i was left alone... matt checked on me every few minutes, and i had no one else there to bother me, so i could just sit and have my experience without interruption.

when debbie (midwife) and karen (doula) finally arrived, debbie came in to say hello and i had two contractions blend into one such that i was moaning for about 2 minutes straight. she mentioned that wasn't "normal" and i explained it was her fault, at which point she nodded and left the room. she returned to light a few candles and very unobtrusively lay out her supplies on the floor; i didn't even notice her. she never asked to monitor me or do a check of any kind, and i owe her for the courtesy, as i believe it would have greatly impeded my progress to be messed-with like that. i started to feel genuine pushing not long after she arrived.

pushing was unlike anything else in this world--completely terrifying and out of control--and i can easily see why women like Ina May refer to birth in terms of becoming a tigress, or a wolf, or a monkey, or whatever your beast is. i felt like an animal, roaring, mindless, and feeling only the impossible urgency of NOW, of doing, of surviving this process. liam's head emerged ever so slightly and i regained some awareness of myself, enough to reach down and feel the incredibly soft, velvety wonder of his head (i will never forget the way that felt, the downy hair on his round little head drifting in the warm water...). that was the moment it became clear what all this was really about; my baby was coming to meet me and it was really happening. the birth was happening and i hadn't failed. i started to feel proud and strong and so looked forward to the completion of my victory over fear.

no one was speaking through all of this.

a few more 'pushes' during which all i could do was try not to split in half--i know he would have been blasted out, as they say in midwife circles, if i hadn't been breathing and intensely willing liam to slow down his exit. debbie quietly encouraged me to take control and then returned to silence. i felt him emerge further until his head was fully out, and debbie confirmed with me that i would catch him, but i needed to lay back to do so because his body was going to be born with the next push. i flopped back, and she was right: a contraction and he flowed out of me into the water, into my hands, accompanied by what i recall was a lot of yelling (but am i told i did no such thing).

debbie helped me get a better hold on him amongst the rush of relief and gratitude and disbelief that i did it, that it was over, that i had a baby and a homebirth and nobody bothered me... it was very dark but i remember his shocking whiteness, his squinting eyes, his impossibly, beautifully round head, and his quiet. i think he may even have been sleeping through the birth. i held him in the water with me to keep him warm, and i laughed and cried. i remember matt looking as much in disbelief as i felt. of course my mother was crying (partly from joy and partly from sorrow at missing the actual emergence) and karen was a quiet cheerleader of my triumph. liam was small and white and seemed as shocked as i was to see him, but he didn't cry until he was wrapped in a towel and given to matt while i tried to birth the placenta and exit the tub.

the three of us got in bed, and i remember feeling some intense burning/pain in the netherparts, but otherwise great, even normal. i still hadn't birthed the placenta, but i had liam and he was thinking about nursing. it took him a little while to go for it, but once he did he seemed content. the placenta came out, we all sat and talked and took liam's measurements, and eventually i had a shower, my mom and karen left, and debbie closed up shop to go home. i think matt and i were in bed, with liam next to us in the cradle, by 130am.

the next morning when rowan woke up, she was greeted with a new brother and has loved him without hesitation ever since. i am sure she cannot remember a time when he wasn't part of her life... it is hard for me, as well.

when the shock of liam's perfect birth finally wore off and i could start integrating it into my life experiences, some strange things happened. "birth" stopped being something that i obsess about. i am as interested in keeping it in my life as i was before, but i'm not on a soapbox anymore. i'm not feeling the need to rant and rave and hoist signs about it (though i gladly will should the occasion arise). it would seem that the total non-event normalness of giving birth the way i did has toned the whole subject down several notches, with a big added dose of peacefulness and contentment.

related to this was gaining the understanding that i will never get over rowan's birth. it doesn't hurt anymore (mostly probably because i have "proved" myself to myself; silly but true) but i was wrong to hope that liam's homebirth would somehow heal the trauma rowan and i went through. it didn't, and that's ok. it healed me in a profound metaphysical way, but nothing will ever lead me to "get over" her birth... it was awful and that's just the way it is. i am able to accept it for what it was and see it in a more objective way, but it will always be a scar even though the wound is no longer throbbing.

on a more mundane note, liam has strange diarrhea going on. for the past few days his normally sweet-smelling, sticky yellow curdled breastmilk poo is stinky, greenish, and so watery it soaks right into the diaper. wtf? i need to do some research... he seems fine otherwise and is eating/sleeping normally so i don't know what to think. as of last night we moved him out of our room--he's 6 weeks old--and into the spare bedroom to get ready for the move into rowan's room. i don't want him in there until he is sleeping through the night because i don't want him to wake her all night long. right now he's consistently going 3-hour stretches both for naps and for night sleeping. he's growing really fast so i can i only assume that explains the several night feedings..?

i am doing good with my "diet" which isn't--eating lots of oats, fruit, yogurt, and green juice. cutting out most meat since i don't really want it anymore, and avoiding breads. i should reduce my coffee intake but i just like it so much... and i've been doing that workout every other day too. i'm sure i'll lose just enough weight to gain it all back over thxgiving and xmas.

rowan is working on her 12th tooth and is saying everything i say to her. it's very cute. i'm really looking forward to xmas and seeing her excited over the lights and tree and parades and gifts. it should be so fun!

"uncle james" brought us 4 more hens yesterday as well, so we now have... 12?? chickens running around, but two of those will shortly be executed for the sheer fact that they are upstart roosters. matt is working on the barn but all we have is 4x4s in the ground so far. winter is coming...

well, something was definitely happening. we had a baby that night!

the facts:
i asked debbie to check me around 530pm and i was dilated to 3cm, and by about 630pm i was having contractions enough to make me pause and breathe while i made dinner. we ate, and by 730 i was in bed coping and trying to rest. i'm not sure how long i was there before i felt like i had better get in the tub, but labor was for real so i called debbie and we agreed she'd give it a little while and then leave (she lives over an hour away!)... and i got in the bath and never got back out again. matt called karen and my mom at some point, too, such that they all arrived at exactly the same time (i'm told it was 9:40pm).

by the time karen popped her head in the bathroom i was in or past transition and had had several "pushy" contractions. there was a definite period where i was falling asleep between them so i assume they spaced out and gave me a rest the way books always say it happens during transition. debbie came in to set up and then went back out for a little bit, and i'm not sure when but shortly after that i told karen to get matt because i was feeling the baby's head in my birth canal! i wasn't sure how fast it would all go, but i knew he needed to be there asap... after a few more pushy contractions i told them to let my mom in too, and then all of a sudden he was crowning. it felt like it took forever for that to end... it was intense... but as soon as his head was out the rest of him came on the next push. straight into the bath and up into my arms and it was over. he was born at 1042pm on september 29. 7lb 12oz.

my reflections:
first, debbie was the best midwife ever. i needed no help and she offered none save once; i was struggling to birth his head as slowly as i could--"pushing" is more like holding on for dear life--and she said "take control of it" and that was the only advice or intervention she gave me the entire time she was present. no blood pressure checks, no heart tone checks, no temperatures... she let me give birth without making herself important or necessary for any reason whatsoever. it was amazing.

as for the birth, i got exactly what i was too afraid to dare i could have... despite the onlookers (which is all they were, though matt being there meant more of course) i had an unassisted birth. no one spoke, no one intervened, and i labored alone in the dark in my bathtub the entire time, which was surprisingly short. i think there was an oil lamp and a few candles lit, actually, but it was basically the dark. debbie told me later it was as peaceful of a birth as she has ever seen, and that made me really happy. from my perspective it was thrashing and shouting, but apparently i didn't actually do what i imagined i was doing. i birthed his head leaning over the side of the tub on my knees, and once it was out i sort of flopped backwards to birth the rest of him and take him out of the water. my poor mom, finally allowed into the birth room, missed the birth because of a phone call. she went out to get something for debbie, the phone rang, and when she came back he was out. i think she was pretty upset about it, but i did my best to give her a chance at least.

(my train of thought is a little off b/c i've been writing this for 3 days)

i know that labor technically went from about 330-1042 but for me it was really only the last two to three hours that were "labor" which is so shocking to me since rowan's was a full 17 hours of excruciating contractions from start to finish (thank you very much, castor oil). it wasn't until yesterday, when i really started to process this amazingly perfect birth experience, that i realized just how fucked-the-fuck-up rowan's birth really was. i felt like i had been hit by a truck, beaten with 2x4s between my legs, deflated in the belly, and totally psychotically miserable for weeks after she was born. weeks. after this birth i was tired but normal... like, really, normal. i woke up the next day and was barely sore. i couldn't kegel for months after rowan, and bladder control was a really tough issue--this time, it's like nothing even happened. i am normal. i tore slightly but it was superficial enough to let alone, and it doesn't even hurt; there are some spots that burn when i pee though, so i know there are a few little splits or "skid marks" hiding down there. i'm dwelling on all this because i'm honestly having a really hard time accepting that THIS is what birth does to you: not much! it's not the terrible, traumatic, difficult trial we have all been lead to believe... or at least, it doesn't have to be. i am so totally myself it's almost scary. in the best way, of course.

i'm going to end this here because i have been writing for DAYS and not published yet; time is precious and i haven't had a whole lot of it. despite this, life is surprisingly unstressful and extremely pleasant... i'm really, really happy. rowan is taking it like an angel, too... she loves the baby and has displayed absolutely no signs of jealousy whatsoever. the darling.

anyway, he's calling me. more when i have time, including photos.

well, i am leaking amniotic fluid. apparently that's just what happens first with me. around 315 i got a "real" contraction, felt like i had to use the potty, and when i walked back into the kitchen i was leaking. some of my plug was lost too. so i have been wearing a 'depends'--yes, the old people diapers--since then and there has been a steady leak along with more plug. yum. i've had one or two more real contractions since then, very sporadic.

but YAY! something is happening! he might actually be born on my birthday after all :) :) :)

now to pressure matt into the naming thing when he comes home... luckily debbie is on her way for a visit anyhow so i think i will let her check me for dilation. we'll see.

"labor and birth unfold within a
complex, infinite web,
Spun by the mother,
And by everyone who has ever taught her
about mothering, birth, sexuality, pain,
control, and surrender.
All the people at her birth
helped spin the web with threads from
their histories, beliefs, experiences, fears...
and recent birth experiences that they have witnessed,
which empowered
or terrified them."
-pam england, birthing from within, p.151

i'll start there. last night i learned that matt has no idea that i still suffer from what happened with rowan's birth (i really hate calling it a "birth"). we were on a different subject, about taking babies to the chiropractor, actually, and he started ranting about what a fad things like that are, that we've been around for thousands of years without chiropractors and kids don't need that, and it's all a bunch of hippie crap just like this homebirth thing--he apparently feels that a lot people want homebirths because it's the "in" thing and not because they think it's safer, etc... so naturally i said "well i hope you know i am not one of those people" (whether they exist in reality or not) "because having been at rowan's birth i would think you know perfectly well why i won't let that happen again." his response has been lost in my memory because part of the sentence contained the following phrase, which wiped out anything else he might have said:

the past two weeks have been so f*cked up.

first, my sister had the routine pentascreen (genetic test during pregnancy) which came back with elevated AFP levels, which could be a fluke or could mean serious disorders like spina bifida in the baby. so she went for a follow-up ultrasound last friday, during which they saw that her baby--a boy--had a hole in his belly and his intestines were outside of his body. it's called gastroschisis. they told her if he survived to full-term, and if he survived birth itself, he would have a 90% survival rate though he would have to undergo surgeries and be in NICU and so on and so forth... i can only imagine what she and her husband went through, because i know when i found out i cried harder than when my grandmother died. it felt like i was learning that MY baby was going to be hurt, or might die. it was unbearable.

two days later, on sunday night, i got a call that she was in the ER because she was having contractions and had started premature labor. she was 23 weeks pregnant.

i rushed to the hospital and was there as they wheeled her into her room in shands' labor and delivery, where she told me she was dilated to 5cm* but thankfully her waters hadn't broken. they pumped her full of nifedipine to stop the contractions and they gave her steroid shots for the baby's lungs just in case he was delivered--at 23 weeks his lungs were not even close to being ready to take in air. she was confined to 100% bed rest with her feet inclined above her head to reduce pressure on her cervix, and stuck in the hospital with the understanding that she wouldn't be going home until she delivered, whether it be in 3 days or 3 months. we were all terrified and didn't know what to do, considering this baby was not only trying to be premature but also had complications that would put even a full-term baby at risk... all we could do was visit her and try to be encouraging, which we all did.

melissa made it 10 days drugged in misery, fear, pain (from ongoing contractions), and humiliation (bed pans and sponge baths) before Kai Lani was born on tuesday 10/27/09. he was 24.5 weeks gestational age, just over halfway "cooked." his birth was uneventful; melissa had a series of 3 contractions back-to-back suddenly, my mom called me, and he was born before i made the 6 minute trip to the hospital from my house. two pushes was all it took, as he was already nearly falling out of her by that point. he breathed on his own, he was vigorous, and they rushed him to NICU.

that was a bad night. after they took her baby away from her, they left melissa with us in her room to deal with the flood of birth hormones and the absence of her baby, which she was heartbroken over despite her best efforts to remain unattached out of self-preservation. we waited and waited for them to come in and tell us he was ok and that we could see him, but when they finally came in it was with the subtly-ominous words "we need you now" as they practically dragged melissa into the wheelchair... the RN actually allowed my mom and i to go in even though the rules say only 2 people per baby, which confirmed what i thought i had heard in her voice... we were about to lose him and it was time to say goodbye. i was completely distraught but trying SO hard to keep my shit together for melissa's sake but it was possibly the hardest thing i've ever done. i think she was numb. we went over to his little bed/machine and we learned he had been without a heartbeat for 10 minutes (though they were doing constant chest compressions on his tiny body)... watching them press on him and mess with tubes in his throat and thinking that he was dying pushed me over the edge and i started hyperventilating and completely broke down; thankfully the nurse saw me before i let it out and she rushed me out the door at which point i lost it, just sobbing uncontrollably in total despair and sorrow for melissa, for james, for that poor little baby and for the rest of us. i just couldn't watch them do what they were doing to his little fragile body, even though i knew they were trying to save him... i don't know where melissa got the strength to endure, but she amazed me that night. i am not nearly as strong as she is.

eventually melissa and james came back to the room sort of blankly staring, but they said he was ok. we were visited by a few other doctors who explained a lot about prematurity and gastroschisis and how it's not good that he had an "event" like that on his first night, so the outlook was uncertain. they said they would do a brain ultrasound after a few days to check for any serious hemorrhage that might indicate brain damage, as melissa and james had decided they didn't want to put him through a life that would be unfulfilling for him if he has serious mental disability. again, i don't know how they can be so strong. i think they are making the compassionate choice but i don't think i could do that myself... i wouldn't be able to willingly let go.

so far he's done well, he's been stable and they say he's "kicking and screaming" which is a good thing. they say there have not been any obvious signs of brain damage, so that's good but not a definite. he needs a blood transfusion so either james or me will be the ones to give it, depending on what melissa wants (james smokes/drinks so his blood isn't as "clean" as mine, as i take no meds, etc). he is so, so tiny though. it's painful to watch him be in the incubator...he should be cozy and safe inside melissa's womb for another few months. but it is absolutely amazing that the technology exists to keep him safe even outside the body. i'm not going to go into detail about all the things they have to do to him, the tubes in his body, etc, because it just makes me hurt inside, but i am grateful that they have done so much already. i just hope he continues to be ok and comes out as normal as possible... but i think everything happens for a reason, so whatever is is as it should be.

melissa and james are holding up ok. it's not easy, but they visit kai something like twice a day and melissa is pumping diligently to make sure he has breast milk when it is time for him to take it. they can't touch him yet. they'll do the head ultrasound tuesday or thursday, so until then there is a lot of anxiety because no one knows what will ultimately happen to the little guy. for my part, it is so, so hard to think that he might be severely impaired and they decide not to continue keeping him alive. i don't know how or why, but i love that baby so much and i just want him to grow up and be rowan's cousin...

as a side note, visiting the NICU (again yesterday) was a very difficult experience. i was happy to see kai, and while he is a pathetic little creature, what was even harder was hearing all the other tiny babies cry, their premature cries so soft and plaintive, just wanting to be comforted and held and kept safe. for the most part, no one was there to visit them, though there was at least one attendant for every baby... but the attendants don't hold them. i realize people have to work, but how can you leave your baby in a box and not be there when it cries? i was overwhelmed a few times, just desperate to give them love but not allowed to... being surrounded by so much helplessness and vulnerability crying out for attention was quite too much for me. for a moment i considered a career path that would let me care for them, but i realized it would kill me to have to do anything that might hurt them even for their best interests.

equally so, i mourn the loss of my sister's pregnancy... she did not get to experience enough of the joy of carrying a baby, of feeling his kicks get stronger over time, of having a glorious belly, of being so big and uncomfortable you can't get around easily, of slowly learning who her baby is, of desperately WANTING that baby and wanting not to be pregnant anymore. and of just being happy about the birth, of having a shower and planning the room, and daydreaming about what he will look like and when he'll be born. kai's birth was all fear and worry and reluctance, and melissa's experience was cut so short she didn't have a chance to appreciate being pregnant. it sucks.

i have learned something about myself through rowan's birth and now kai's, however. i still do believe that nature dictates that some babies and some mothers die during childbirth, and that that is the normal way of life; but i also realize that the bottom line is, when it's you, and the technology exists to save yourself or your baby, you can't refuse it. maybe it goes against nature, but it is OUR nature to do anything to save our own lives and the lives of our children. until there is no choice, there is no choice. i get it, and even if i philosophically disagree with them, my actions speak to my reality.

please send happy thoughts of love and healing to kai, to melissa, and to james. they need it.



*if you do not know much about pregnancy and childbirth here's a quick breakdown: the cervix should be tightly closed until labor starts, at which time contractions begin to slowly--sometimes, usually for first time moms, VERY slowly--open the cervix. the goal is 10cm, but a mom is considered in "active labor," which means screaming in pain and breathing like in the movies, at 4cm.

WARNING: this is extremely graphic and may make the weak-of-heart a little queasy. it was not an easy or pleasant experience, in the end, and i spared no details in the telling. it may also bore you if you don't want a play-by-play description of labor and birth.

around 1.30am on 5/15 my water broke. i woke to a small puddle around my nether regions, got up to pee, and went back to bed with a towel under me. when i woke up again around 730am, i was sure it was amniotic fluid and i told matt i was "leaking" (which i later learned he did not full comprehend). throughout the morning it continued in a slow stream, and around 1030 i saw the aptly-named mucus plug, at which point it hit me that i was really going to have the baby, so i called my mom and then the birth center to see what i should do.

i went in for an assessment and learned i was about 1cm dilated. i wasn't having contractions. i lied and said i didn't know what time the water broke; the midwife and i agreed we'd call it 730am since we couldn't be sure (she was kind enough to help me buy some time on the 24-hour clock by doing so). she also stripped the membranes for good measure. she told me to go home, get my stuff, and come back to the birth center, from whence i should take brisk walks as much as possible to help encourage labor to start. i was told if nothing was happening by 7pm that we would need to use castor oil which i did NOT want to do... so i got my stuff, settled in, and walked to maude's for lunch and to see matt, who was very surprised to hear i was technically in labor!

i made it back to the birth center around 3 with my lunch, and after a brief...discussion...with the on-call assistant regarding when castor oil was to be started, we consulted as my mom showed up. the midwife was clearly anxious at this point, because nothing was happening; i still wasn't having contractions. so we decided to try nipple stimulation with the electric breast pump and combine it with black and blue cohosh tincture every 15 minutes for an hour. an hour later, nothing. they checked my dilation and i was still at 1cm... somewhere in there matt arrived and the shift changed so i was now working with the midwife i had always known would be at my labor (she is the one who helped me through the bleeding incident at 12 weeks). she said it was time to take the castor oil, and suggested i go home to do it and try to get some rest before it kicked in, and to call her at 1130pm. matt had a horrible toothache and headed to the doctor for some antibiotics and pain pills. my mom went with me for support.

on my way home i stopped and got a 4oz bottle of the stuff and some ice cream to make a milkshake... let me just say this: castor oil is nasty stuff. and 4oz ain't no small dose, either... it's straight, thick oil. *shudder* i tossed it in the blender with the ice cream, some milk, and a little bit of chocolate, and sucked it down through a straw at the back of my throat as quickly as possible. after that my mom and i went for a walk to kill time and try to get my uterus into gear; and to distract me from the awful nausea my castor-oil-filled belly was feeling (when you burp that stuff, it's like drinking it all over again. i am actually feeling ill just remembering it!). anyway, within an hour i was hit with the explosively powerful digestive-system-emptying qualities of the castor oil, and beginning to get contractions. it's nasty, but it works.

the next few hours are a total blur for me; between cramps from the dose, true contractions, and horrendous diarrhea, i was in another dimension of confusion and discomfort. i remember taking a couple of baths, spilling candle wax on the floor, and eventually listening to very loud tool music (lateralus, mostly) while rocking on my pilates ball, but other than that it's a senseless mass of ick in my mind. by the time 11pm rolled around i was in full-blown labor, vomiting, and dazed. matt called the midwife, my mom showed up (after having left to get some rest herself), and we went back in to the birth center. karen--my dear doula--met us there. sometime during the night my dad showed up as well.

at the birth center they told me i was dilated to 4cm. i labored in every position imaginable; in the tub, on the bed, on the ball, on the toilet, in matt's arms. i labored for an eternity and for no time at all. it's strange how a moment can last forever and hours can fly by all in the same experience. labor contractions are like nothing else in the world; every one pushed me to my utter limits of endurance, and yet with every one i was able to tell myself "it's just one contraction, just get through this one and you'll survive." and the eternal instant would be over. my coping mechanism was to relax as completely as possible through each one, relaxing in spite of the pain, loosening my muscles, and breathing deeply and slowly. i won't say it helped the pain, but it kept me from screaming and from fighting my body. i surprised myself by making labor sounds, too... the deep, round OOOO came naturally. at some point during the night, they told me i was 7cm and it was ok to push if i got the urge. when i did, it was the strangest feeling ever--my body took over and i felt like my insides were involuntarily trying to eject something... there was nothing i could do to stop it, even had i wanted to. so the pushing began.

they tell me i pushed for something like 7 hours total; i have no idea if that's true. all i know is that i pushed, and pushed, and then i yelled, and i got angry... i put every ounce of my being into moving the baby down my birth canal, and nothing happened. consistently. she just wasn't moving down, despite my body's urges and my conscious efforts. coming up to 7am (saturday 5/16) our midwife consulted with her backup OB and we were given permission to try for two more hours before mandatory transfer to the hospital... but the extra time made no difference. the hands in my pelvis, putting painful pressure on the spot i was to push towards, made no difference. getting angry didn't help, and neither did talking to the baby. (lucky for all of us, her heart rate had never faltered through all the stress of the labor, which is the only reason i was allowed to go over the 24-hour limit.) they told me there was a muscle "in the way" in my pelvis that was blocking the passage and they couldn't move it out of way enough to help rowan descend.

finally, 9am, the midwife said it was time to go to the hospital, and i broke down. she said we were looking at an assisted delivery via forceps/vacuum if the baby was down far enough; if not, they'd have no choice but to do a c-section. i knew she wasn't down far enough, and i cried. i was so indescribably dejected--all that effort, all my positive thinking, all my preparations with herbs and whatnot over 9 months, wasted--it was awful. i have never felt so down in my whole life. i failed. we packed up and went to the hospital.

i don't know how i survived the car ride--it was bumpy and i was having non-stop contractions--or walked through the hospital halls, but eventually i was in the labor room and instantly all control, even my sense of having the ability to participate in basic decisions, was gone. the birth of my baby no longer had anything to do with me. i was hooked up to monitors, given an IV, attached to a BP machine, and messed with by no less than 6 strange women who never looked me in the eye or asked my permission to manhandle me. i was, however, allowed to keep pushing in an attempt to birth naturally while we waited for the OB to arrive. my midwife and assistant were graciously allowed to keep working with me under the direction of the hospital's midwife... so the ordeal of pushing continued despite me having absolutely no energy left for it. (they had put me on pitocin also, to make sure i had minimal latency between contractions, which just made me more tired.) after a long while of this the OB came in and said we didn't have her down far enough, and her heart rate was dropping precipitously during pushing which was making him nervous, so he screwed an internal monitor into her head despite my tears and objections. then he said he wanted me prepped for surgery "just in case"--i learned later that he told my family i was going to have a c-section. (i was told it was too late for an epidural and that if i did have a c-section it would probably be under general anesthesia, which was my worst nightmare come true...being unconscious for the birth of my baby.) then he left to give us a few more minutes to push.

by about 1130am i just couldn't do anymore. i was done. the doctor came back and said the baby "might" be low enough, and that we could try the vacuum but it might not work. i signed a release stating the devil could take my soul and anybody else's if the doctor decided it was medically necessary, i was given a foley catheter "just in case," and they started shaving me where the incision would be. i asked what the pain was going to be like with the vacuum, since i couldn't have an epidural for this; he said i was going to get a "pudendal block" (local anesthetic like when you have a tooth worked on) but that i would still have sensation. i should mention that i was crying non-stop at this point, in unceasing pain from contractions, and exhausted beyond my wildest conception of what i could endure. i was told to save my energy so i could push hard when he started to pull on the baby's head. he gave me a big shot of lidocaine or something into my vagina on each side, and my right leg went numb along with (i assumed) my birth canal.

here it gets blurry... my memory recorded only snippets of things... i don't remember pushing, though i must have. i remember hearing other people shouting, and i heard my own voice wailing. i remember vividly the sensation of him pulling her head with the vacuum, like someone plunging a toilet inside of me. it failed to deliver her, but brought her down more, so he switched to the forceps. and ripped her out of me. it felt like she was torn away from my body... it was so fast, and so scary, and so unnatural, to feel it and not feel it at the same time. (the injection--or my wild state of mind--must have dulled any sense of 'pain' but left me fully able to feel the pressure and movement of the delivery.) i felt the tear--or the cut?--of my own tissue as her shoulders came out, i heard her cry, and i cried. she was covered in blood and her head looked awful, but she was out. i was hysterical. not from pain, per se, or even joy, honestly. i was so sad and so tired and so relieved it was over (or so i thought). they put her little body on my chest and she nursed and i just kept crying. her poor little head was so stretched out, it broke my heart. but she was perfect. it turns out the cord was wrapped around her neck (twice?) and holding her back, which is the other part of why she couldn't descend. we didn't get to have the quiet alone time i hoped for, the idyllic bonding moment, mostly because i was so distraught. but she was with me for some amount of time while the hospital staff bustled around, and she nursed, and she looked at me... it kills me that i do not have a clear memory of those first moments with her. if i could do it all over again i would, just to have that time back so that i could pull myself together and truly absorb the moment. but even though she was given the opposite of the gentle waterbirth i wanted to greet her first breath on earth, she never seemed to be affected by the violence of her exit from my body. i am thankful for that above all else.

i thought the worst was over at this point, but i could not have been more wrong. i can't remember if i was still having contractions, but the placenta* came out and after a break of some period of time during which my parents were allowed in and matt helped them wash and weigh rowan, the OB had to stitch me up (yes, they brought in my family while i was left there splayed out, feet in stirrups and half-numb, crying, torn, and bleeding everywhere). i had been given an episiotomy (without being informed or consenting), and still i had something like 8 tears, and at least one was third degree. i want to say that the hour it took him to put me back together was worse than all the hours of labor, and even the delivery. it was horrific. i felt the actual stitching for a great deal of it, and for some reason i was experiencing insanely painful and inexplicable pressure on my anus during the whole thing, such that i was sobbing and wailing the entire time. i had been through far too much trauma and was too weak and delirious to tolerate any more pain. i still feel that way, actually... my emotional pain tolerance has not recovered yet, and any minor pain lately causes me a lot more emotional upset than it normally would.

during the entire time this was happening my mom and matt switched off holding rowan; she never left the room. she was perfect and healthy, amazingly, despite the long difficult labor. she seemed to know her daddy, too, because she quieted down and responded to him immediately when he took her. at least one of us was able to take advantage of her "alert period" after birth.

we stayed three days in the hospital because of some stupid bureaucracy plus a little confusion on the last day. they held us--officially--the second day because we "refused the vitamin k shot and she was born with a vacuum;"** because assisted birth can cause hemorrhage in babies and we didn't give her the clotting agent they wanted us to (considering she probably has a clotting disorder like i do). we were supposed to go home the next morning but we spent all day waiting for a prescription that the midwife forgot to call in. i have never had to sleep in a hospital before, but damn it sucks. in fact i didn't sleep at all... nurses came in almost every hour to hassle me for vitals, wake the baby up for vitals, give me a medication, ask me if i fed her, or whatever other random bullshit they could think of, so it wasn't really easy to get any sleep. plus i was strung out, depressed, and in pain--i now think i was suffering from PTSD for at least the first week after her birth. i slept about 3 hours total over the 5 days following it. anyway, the stay at the hospital was uneventful other than having lots of appreciated visitors.

rowan was more than fine; she was nursing perfectly, healthy, calm, and apparently happy. she had a little bit of jaundice, which is normal for breastfed babies prior to mom's milk coming in, and no other issues. she slept a lot and was attentive and adorable when she woke. before we left they said she had "almost" lost too much weight, but i was told just to feed her like crazy and everything should be fine. i, on the other hand, felt like someone had beaten me with a two by four between my legs--bruised beyond belief, but no pain from the stitches or anything. thankfully the only pain i had during the immediate healing process was a dull bruised sort of ache. i did have nightmares when i finally slept, however, and crying fits for about two weeks. (i'll post another entry detailing my postpartum experience later.)

as i think back on our birth experience one month ago, i still don't know how to feel about it. as many things as i have to be thankful for, there is a balance to be mourned, and i am having a hard time with that. i mourn our loss of the natural birthing experience, of a quiet and peaceful entry into the world, of bonding happily uninterrupted in the moments after birth, of being in a comfortable space and bringing her home to our bed right away. i mourn her trauma; the vacuum that disfigured her head and the forceps that bruised her face, the unloving hands that bathed her and suctioned her mouth and put a monitor in her scalp. and i mourn my own pain and humiliation; physical, mental, and emotional...i have scars on all three planes. i also have guilt: i wonder now if my stubbornness in not acquiescing to a c-section wasn't more dangerous and risky than if i had let it happen--assisted birth (w/ forceps or vacuum) has been known to cause fetal death, brain damage, disfigurement, etc. part of me feels that maybe i risked too much for my own pride in demanding a vaginal birth... i know that is neither here nor there because we both survived without incident... but i do have a sense of slight shame for what may have been irrational egoism in the moment. i am told i was "so strong" and "amazed" everyone with my willpower and endurance, but all i can feel--still--is sorrow for the failure to do it naturally, and now, a sense of having only barely avoided a potential tragedy of my own making. i do not think i will ever be able to feel proud of this birth or to claim it as the victory i am told it was. i hope i am wrong, but it's hard to take pride in knowing that without medical intervention one or both of us probably would have died... it isn't pleasant to be forced into feeling grateful for an establishment i loathe.

in the end though, it was all worth it, of course. i have an incredible little girl who is my reason for living, and if my body and my pride were wounded in the process of producing her, so be it. i suspect that i will always wish it had been closer to my fantasy, but the universe is what it is and that's ok too. someday, before she is too old to answer honestly, i will ask rowan what happened in there and why her birth had to be like that. maybe she will know.



*my placenta was a medical anomaly: it had two lobes (instead of looking like a kidney) and something strange about the veining and the cord which i was too out of it to comprehend at the time. all the medical staff were surrounding it and talking and confused, the midwives were taking pictures, and everyone was saying "i've never seen that before!" so they kept it to send it to pathology but there was nothing wrong with it--apparently it was just really weird. i'm trying to get more information about it but for now all i have is a gross picture and hearsay from matt about what they were saying. (ok, just googled it and learned something: bilobate placenta.)

**we did do the PKU though now i can't help but wonder if i shouldn't have (florida retains newborn DNA for at least 5 years and it's not clear whether they use it for research; i am looking into this to find out how to make them destroy her sample). we didn't do any of the other routine treatments or tests on her.