september mama

a while ago i posted briefly about this re: the upcoming documentary the other side of the glass. the issue at hand has to do with the way fathers are treated during conventional hospital birth, and the effect that has on them and their partners and babies.

initially, my instinct (and the filmmaker's) was that YES fathers are imperative at the births of their babies, they provide emotional support for the mother, comfort for the baby, and much-needed protection for both. in a lot of ways i think the only people who should be present at the birth are the two people who were present when the baby was made. i do not disagree with my first impressions, but i am beginning to wonder whether it is only now, when woman are forced to defend themselves alone during birth or risk being subjected to others' directives, that we need our men to stand watch for us. are men really supposed to be part of birth, evolutionarily?

my instinct says, maybe not. maybe we are doing them no favor by expecting their presence during such a confusing, powerful, woman-centered event. maybe we are doing ourselves no favor by requiring their adrenaline-laden presences in our sacred birth spaces. i wonder?

michel odent, servant of natural birth worldwide (and notably, a man himself), asks this in terms of the newly emerging recognition of a male post-natal depression epidemic:

Is the participation of the father at birth dangerous?

Around 1970, when theoreticians introduced new doctrines, they did not consider the effects of extreme emotional reactions some men may experience when their wife/partner is giving birth. To support their theories, they anticipated that participation of the father would strengthen ties between partners and that rates of divorce and separation would dramatically decrease. They assumed that the presence of the baby’s father, as a familiar person, would make the birth easier. By introducing the concept of male postnatal depression we first want to emphasize that many relevant questions were not raised at that time.

Among the questions that have not been raised properly were those about the possible influence of the participation of the father at birth on the sexual life of the couple afterwards. Through such a question we introduce the complex issue of sexual attraction. Sexual attraction is mysterious: mystery has a role to play in inducing and cultivating sexual attraction. I had opportunities in the past to talk about the birth of their baby with women who were themselves born at the end of the 19th century. They could not imagine being watched by their husband when giving birth: "and what about our sexual life afterwards?" was their most common reaction. Today I am amazed by the great number of couples who split off some years after a wonderful birth according to the modern criteria. They remain good friends but they are not sexual partners any longer. It is as if the birth of the baby had reinforced their comradeship while sexual attraction was fading away.

We must add that the theoreticians of the 1970s had not understood that in order to give birth, a woman must put to rest her neocortex and her 'fight and flight system' (i.e. maintaining a low level of adrenaline). If they had understood this, they would have been more cautious before routinely introducing in to the birthing place a male neocortex stimulated by a release of adrenaline. They would have understood that when a man loves his partner, his anxiety during birth is normal and that his adrenaline release is highly contagious.

personally i would like to think that the sex relationship between partners would not be affected by birth, but really: how could it not be? i have read anecdotal evidence about male OB students who were impotent for months after watching a birth--just imagine if it was your partner you had to watch turn inside out... there MUST be some weird subconscious guilt (at having assisted in doing that to her) and revulsion (at seeing the prized parts so unceremoniously exposed) associated with that experience. it's not insignificant, if you ask me. perhaps less important when weighed against participating in the birth of your own child, yes, but not insignificant.

from what i can gather about the next part of the other side of the glass being worked on, she is going to address the fact that during birth, men become equally as vulnerable as women, watching the impossible happen... she equates it hormonally to the moment before orgasm when one is completely open and receptive, and brings in the idea that not only do the women need protection, but the men do too! she seems to suggest that men need a backup to allow them to open in the way that they are naturally inclined to do during the birth of their babies. (doula, anyone?) which to me is an interesting sort of sideways counterpoint to odent's assessment. perhaps the supported father--with another man or doula to metaphorically watch his back during birth--would not suffer the same anxiety and stress as a man forced to bear sole burden for protecting his partner during her--and his own--most vulnerable moment. just a thought.

historically and in traditional/native cultures, birth is exclusively the domain of women. we can talk about couvade (when men exhibit physical or feigned symptoms to parallel those of their wives) but the point is that men are *almost never* normally included in the actual birth of their children. women are attended by women. maybe instinctively we know that men do not add anything or receive any benefit from the participation in birth...

though a little part of me feels strongly that i need matt to see me do this--i want him to be a part of this massively important moment in my (and our) life, and to be proud and maybe a little bit awed that i can do it, and to see her and touch her before anybody else does--i can't help but wonder about these things. and wonder if he wouldn't be more comfortable knowing he isn't forced to be at my side and watch while i'm in pain. or my body does frightening things. haha. i mean, i know of course i want him to be there during labor, hopefully in the tub with me, but i think i am going to ask him how HE feels about it, since i honestly don't know if i have. i sort of just took the attitude of "damn right you will be at my side" and maybe that wasn't fair. and maybe his stress (if he is afraid to be there but forced) will be worse than not having him in the room...

i wonder what he will do, given the option?

i'm feeling a lot of interesting things lately, though "feeling" isn't quite the right word. "sensing" or "anticipating" maybe fits better.

i have a strange, calm sort of excitement about the birth. it sounds silly but it's not as much about finally meeting her--though of course that is awesome--as it is about the process of birth itself. i feel as if i am approaching a point-of-no-return spiritually, like i'm getting ready for a journey i can't even begin to speculate about; something completely otherworldly and life-changing.

having never done it before, i manage to have incredibly positive, and perhaps idealistic, feelings about birth... i imagine it as the greatest, most impossible task one could ever undertake, and knowing that i will get to the point of breaking where i "can't do it"--and still do it--is something i look forward to on a level i can't really describe. i want to break down completely, to give up, and then realize i'm not broken at all and come out singing. while i can understand on a physical and logical level why women might want painkillers for what is always described as the most painful experience ever, but emotionally and spiritually i cannot fathom agreeing with that. to me, numbing medication would be robbing myself of my own greatest experience. pain goes away... being able to know that i did it despite the pain is 100% worth it to me. there is a woman in the business of being born who expresses that birth can (and should) be the most empowering, triumphant experience of a woman's life, and that's basically how i feel about it. i am ready for the challenge and have no doubt about the outcome. women are made for this, and it is what makes us as strong as we are. we do the impossible as a matter of course.

i have been feeling a little... spacey?... but without the negative connotation; i've been having surges of spiritual energy or something like that, and it's making me aware of how irrelevant most of the things i spend my time on really are. i need to be secluded and quiet and a little bit out of touch to really embrace this. it's hard to be half-meditating at work! i have been listening to meditation podcasts at night to fall asleep, which is good, and i made a pandora station out of "new age/spa radio" music to listen to at work. this all started two fridays ago when i was exhausted, i went to the birth center and was told to go home from work and sleep, but instead of heading straight home i stopped at a little herb/crystal shop that i have been meaning to go to, and the second i walked in the door i reconnected with a part of myself that has been long repressed... it was like getting an auric massage just walking in the door. i didn't realize until then how caught-up i have become in the stupid things (stupid things=work), but now i do. the closer i get to birth the more strongly i feel that my life has to change. i know this is partly my saturn return waving from a distance and nudging me to get ready for what is to come. i had plans to pursue natural medicine that i have allowed to fall to a far back burner, but clearly they are not the kind of plans i can dismiss without a fight. which is good, because it will take a fight to put them into action. and it might take a number of years, as well, which i am fine with... there is no rush, as long as i can express myself as i wish without encumbrance.

i just can't bring myself to care about stupid things, or bills, or legal matters, or anything that doesn't directly relate to my growth as a spiritual being, or matt's, or how we are going to raise rowan. gardening, love, self-expression (of myself and others) and a harmonious home are the only things i give any concern to anymore. i'm half-afraid and half-hopeful that this will not change when the pregnancy is over. it is time for me to assert my needs, and to pursue what is important to me... all my intuition tells me that this drive will only become stronger after going through birth.

today was our 36 week appointment, and rowan is definitely head down and partially engaged. good news, now i can stop reading about how to turn a breech baby :). matt surprised me at the appointment by showing up, and he got to hear her heartbeat for the first time. and he felt her head through my abdomen. it was cute. i also took the GBS test so we'll see how that goes.

the difference between inner knowing that everything is perfect and will be perfect, and having external reality confirm it and say "yep" is really interesting. i have known from the beginning that this pregnancy (and birth) would be totally OK in every way, but somehow with each new confirmation of my intuition it gets more and more fun. i believe in informing myself of all possibilities regardless of what i really "feel" will happen--which is why i read everything and get worked up about stuff all the time--because i think it's important to understand fully all potential situation(s) even while i hope for and expect the best outcome. things are going as well as could be hoped for.

and rowan... she is an interesting being. i've had a sense of her since the beginning when i knew she was a girl, and it hasn't changed at all. of all the things i can't quite put into words, the one thing i can is "wisdom." it sounds silly but i never, ever think of her as a baby, a kid, or a noob at all... i relate to her as a fully sentient being who knows at least as much as i do about things, consciously or unconsciously. i don't think of her as a child. i think her "spirit" or whatever is way old and may even come out knowing exactly who she is. then again i may be completely wrong, but that's what my sense of her tells me. she's like an old monk or a sage spiritually, i think. and this funny little spirit i feel in the background, impatiently waiting its turn--her sister?--is so different from that. not unwise, but playful; almost mischievous. pregnancy does strange things to us. maybe i'm just hallucinating all of this via excess of hormones and imagination.

anyway... that's where i'm at.

last night i had my first "real" labor dream (i.e., one in which i experienced the whole thing from start to finish without any periods of unconsciousness or confusion). it all went very quickly and was completely without pain.

i'm not sure how it started, but suddenly i knew that she was about to arrive, and i was in the bathtub of the house i grew up in and my mom was there, so i told her quick to turn on the hot water and i sat down, knowing that i only had a few minutes left--there was no pain but i knew i was contracting, and i didn't have to push because it was all just happening--and i could feel her head coming out so i got on all fours and my mom caught her (then dropped her in the water), gave her to me, and all was fine. she was too big for a newborn, which i knew in the dream, but she was calm and there were no issues. the placenta came out a few minutes later. the midwives were in the next room still getting ready for the birth, and one of them poked their head in and saw me with the baby and she said something like "hold on we're almost ready for you" and i was thinking wtf? i just want to get out of the tub and into bed. and that's basically where it ended.

the interesting thing about this dream is that i was just talking to my mom yesterday about how i don't expect to want anyone, even her, in the room with me and matt and that i hope she isn't upset by that. i need to be as deep inside my animal-self as i can be, and i know that her presence will draw me into my mental-self and distract me slightly and that is the last thing i want to set myself up for. i've also read enough midwife-chatter to learn that many times the stress the grandmother is feeling at having to helplessly watch her child in pain translates into stress for the entire labor team. i imagine you become a pretty emotionally-connected group amidst a laboring woman, so i can see how that would be true. and i doubt my mom won't be able to sit quietly by and watch without trying to help, so unfortunately i am planning to keep everybody out unless i decide otherwise when the moment comes. it's not fair, and to an extent i am not giving her enough credit for her ability to handle crisis-type situations, but the fact is i KNOW how protective she is when anything threatens me or my sister, so in some way i am also trying to spare her the trauma of having to watch (and to spare myself the compound trauma of having to be in pain AND be in pain at watching her in pain because she's watching me in pain. see what i mean? it's easy to fall out the role of experiencer and into the role of observer/observed which as Odent says is terrible for facilitating natural birth).

so... that i would dream--in the first "successful" labor dream i've had--that my mom was the only one present is pretty interesting. i wonder where matt was? the midwives were too distracted "getting ready" for the birth to be there for it, and i get the feeling that i had no pain because i chose to have no pain. anyway, that was the dream.

as for "changes" i think perhaps rowan has "dropped" as of last night or this morning. i'm trying to figure out exactly what that is supposed to feel like, but i suddenly feel as though i have something pushing my pelvis apart ok now she's wiggling in two places, almost like there are more than one of her, and she's definitely not down in the pelvis. UNLESS her head is down there and her feet are splayed apart, each kicking one side of my belly. she can't pick a position and stick with it! i swear she rotates 10 times a day.

btw today is 36(+) weeks.

oh geez. i can't handle this... *sniffle* from gentlebirth.org:

Time is running out for my friend. We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family". What she means is that her biological clock is ticking and has begun its final countdown.

"We're taking a survey," she says, half joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on the weekend, no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonalds will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the lbs of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my friend could sense the bond she'll feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand, and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

***

i just want to say i made it through without tears until she started talking about loving her husband more... i have noticed a definite change between matt and i since he has been around (the past two months, post-graduation). i see a side of him i didn't expect, i guess. while i don't think the depth of emotion between us is any different than before, the expression of it, and what it means, is somehow changed. i think perhaps we are more committed, more important to each other, and more connected, even when we are both busy. her existence somehow bridged a natural gap of individuality between us and we are much more one-minded even when it isn't expressed. knowing he trusts me to birth his child, even though he hasn't said it--he doesn't doubt my ability to go it alone or without medication for a second--has also made me realize how much and why i love him. there is something completely unspeakable between us, and i think the fact that it is unquantifiable is the reason so many of our friends have trouble understanding what it is that made us get together (and get married, and stay together, and have a baby). it's something far below the surface, and i only recently realized it's even deeper than i thought. he will be a fantastic dad and a better husband for it. he already is.

i find myself thinking about different things as the day approaches with more concrete reality every morning when i wake up...

things like the logistics of the day of, what i still want to do before she gets here, more about the attendants, what my parents will do while they wait, and start-to-finish imaginings of the labor process itself.

because i am--for unexplainable reasons--quite self-conscious and filled with a certain amount of body dysmorphic sensibilities, i have been a little uncomfortable thinking about being naked and birthing in front of strangers. or even people i like. i worry that my body will be gross and unattractive during birth, and it kind of scares me for matt to have see that. and then i found this:

[about being naked and putting your butt in the midwife's face]

client: For me, it was a combination of believing part of it was pregnancy, not fat...and also the fact that I have a hard time *really* seeing how I look.

Hopefully midwives see enough naked (or partially so) bodies that they really don't pay attention anymore. Besides that, they don't all have figures like Pamela Anderson themselves.

---

midwife: OK, I really had to laugh at this. I weigh much more than most of my clients, even at term. I am definitely not the Pamela Anderson type. [Very Big Grin.]

I just wanted to chime in from a midwife's perspective.

Believe it or not, it barely even registers with me whether a woman is clothed or not; part of my brain might note that she's showing a "loss of inhibition", which is an emotional signpost of labor progress for some women.

Other than that, I just don't care, as long as the baby can find the way out of whatever she's wearing.

Sometimes the line between clothed and unclothed gets really blurred in labor. We often associate nakedness with vulnerability, but laboring women are so powerful that this gets all skewed. In fact, sometimes I get a little blurred on the clothed or unclothed thing myself and forget whether I'm naked or not. I still do a mental check when I walk out the door of my house to make sure I'm wearing clothes.

About pushing things out in midwives' faces, it might help to know that midwives generally get all excited about any and all excretory functions, because they are often a sign of progress. We're glad to see waters (in labor), we're glad to see pee at just about anytime, we're glad to see appropriate bleeding as a sign of progress, we're glad to see vomiting as a sign of transition, and we're always very excited to see the "positive poop sign". And we're very, very glad to see that baby coming out!

Truly, anyone who's attended a few births has seen it all; squeamish people don't attend more than a few, and the others are generally quite pleased to see whatever's coming out of your body.

So, let it all come down and out. [Grin]

gross it may be, but that made me feel better. she is right--laboring women are SO POWERFUL--it's beyond silly to imagine there is any worry about clothing or conforming to conventional images of beauty and crap like that. all the birth videos i have seen have made me forget that the woman is naked and imperfect, i just see birth and she's doing it. she's someplace else, someone else, completely out of herself with the process and the power. these fears i have are all ego-based and mean nothing in labor...

on a related yet dissimilar note, i do plan to discuss the vaginal exams with the midwives on tuesday during my appointment. i have read enough to learn that there is an argument against doing regular cervical checks, most especially if/when the mother is made uncomfortable by them (or has any history of abuse). in my case they make me freeze up, as if my spirit is retracting and clenching against the intrusion on my space. i do not feel safe when i am being invaded by a doctor, gentle and/or professional as she may be. so i hope we can limit the number of internals to the absolute minimum, because i will be a lot more comfortable that way.

(i just went brain dead and totally lost my train of thought here)

i think i found a holistic pediatrician though, so that's awesome. he's the only holistic doc i could find in gainesville and he is a board certified pediatrician to boot. i called him and he's interesting... he made a point of saying he "won't" go to hospital. i'm not sure exactly what that means, but i definitely plan to meet him and see what's up. i have no fear about being able to get an adequate conventional doc if i have to, but it would be really nice not to have to. it's kind of unfair the way "they" "make" you go to all these ridiculous infant appointments for checkups all the time... if baby is healthy why do you need to? so they can chart her weight gain and make sure it fits the overweight american curve? enforce vaccine schedules? milk you for cash? i don't know. here again maybe i am overconfident but i just don't really think i need anybody to tell me whether my baby is healthy; if she eats often, she's gaining (some amount of) weight, and she doesn't seem sick or weird, why do i have to take her to the doctor? blah.

i guess i just have enough trust in life and human physiology to say 'we've been doing this a long time' and hope/assume that nature will sort itself out. *shrug* but whatever, i will find a doctor i can deal with and i will most likely do as i am told by the unwritten rules, for the most part.

anyway i just found something better to post.

so i can't remember the last time i was able to see my nether-regions. at this point it's physically impossible... a few weeks ago i attempted to "mow the lawn" a bit--i will have a lot of people staring at it relatively soon, after all--but it was SO hard without being able to see what i was doing! there is just no way to view it from my angle, and i'll be danged if i'm going to bring a mirror into the bathtub just to shave... anyway it would be backwards and i'd probably mangle myself.

i don' t know, i think that's kind of amusing. i've never had a body part that i couldn't see (or reach) before. at this point my feet are basically off-limits too, unless i am sitting down and can bring them to my hands--bending to touch them just ain't gonna happen. my balance is wacked AND the baby is in the way!

it's funny. i'm not crippled or anything, but man, i'm certainly not my relatively nimble, athletic self anymore! sometimes i feel crippled. yesterday i was walking around campus and i passed a dude in a wheelchair and he smiled at me as if to say "hey, you're like me" and the funniest part was, i was thinking the exact same thing. it was awesome.

tonight we are going to a lecture by this guy on "collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed" (sponsored by the place i work). should be interesting... matt's got his first book guns, germs, and steel and liked it well enough.