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Published On: Sep 15, 2004 08:53 PM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Sep 15, 2004 08:53 PM
Birth Story 4.0
Is this interesting to anyone who isn't pregnant
or just given birtth or a self-proclaimed natural birth junkie? But it helps
keep me from assaulting total strangers in line at the grocery store with "Guess
what I did!" I have spent forever editing this, wanting it to be perfect, but
it is what it is.
It's funny trying to give an account of Rainer's
birth because my memory of it is not linear. There's seeing him coming up in
the tub towards me, there's the most reassuring and perfect embrace in the tub
with Raven before dropping to my hands and knees to push, there's dancing with
Søren through many contractions because I knew I should keep moving, there
are the contractions sitting on the birthing ball in my bedroom which hurt like
my whole abdomen was going to be shattered into hard, sharp little pieces from
the force inside me, there's Jenny walking through the door right after I have
Rainer in my arms, carrying him to the bedroom for me. But that's no way to
tell the story.
On the other hand, I don't know where to tell the story from: it encompasses a pregnancy and previous births, it held in it my relationships with my husband, my children, my mother, my best friend, my sister, my midwife. Also, a lot of what I would want somebody to understand about what the birth was and what it meant includes a difficult postpartum recovery, and how I want to talk about that without people thinking of the Andrea Yates extreme -- I understand the potential scope of postpartum depression but the idea of harming myself or my children is pretty alien (except for wondering if this next unexplained crying jag is going to be the one that signals the loss of sanity). I can only conclude that sometimes when you have a two week old who cries whenever he isn't being held, and a toddler whose needs are being met in a compromised way, and you are trying to feed yourself and three children using only one arm because the other one's holding an upset baby, sometimes crying is the sane response, because it is hard. And then, slowly it gets better. Plus, I love being pregnant, and I loved the birth, and I had to mourn the end of that in my life since we intend for Rainer to be our last, so for a couple of weeks I walked around feeling like I had a hole inside me where a human being used to fit. And none of that means that I'm not overjoyed with my baby. But I think I need to write about the postpartum thing separately because it is really big deal and I am still clinging to this birth.
As with Søren's birth, I sort of expected a couple of weeks of false labor (a name I hate because it feels real and in both of these pregnancies resulted in four centimeters of dilation, just not in anything more, like, say, birth). And I really didn't have any until two days before I was forty weeks. That seemed to happen only because my midwife, Becky, had to drive to Austin and seemed worried I might go into labor and I am pretty darn suggestible. But we expected false labor and although I was uncomfortable, neither Raven nor I got excited about timing the contractions that lasted only a couple of hours. I was due July 12th, and my sister had a plane ticket to arrive the 15th, and I was confidently predicting labor on the 17th. I had an appointment on the morning of the 15th and sure enough, the false labor of the previous weekend had me a modest 2 cm dilated and it seemed like things were in place to happen, and I picked up my sister, Lisa, at the airport with a sort of "You're just in time!"
The morning of the 17th, a Saturday, I woke up feeling different. Jittery. Excited. I knew this would be the day. Something was different about food. My mental state felt like labor, sort of indecisive and fluffy, and some difficulty keeping my mind on things. I decided to go to yoga because sitting around the house waiting would be unbearable, and yoga was good. Then we went for lunch at Benihana, and afterwards to get a few deli items at Eatzi's. No contractions yet, but still I was sure, I knew. There was a plan to nap when I got home but diarrhea and jitteriness precluded that, so we called Jenny, my best friend, whom I really wanted at this birth, and decided she would come in a hour or so, called Becky to ask about filling up the tub. And then we waited. There were contractions, but nothing terribly timable or uncomfortable, It was a rather fun, party-like atmosphere, we watched three episodes of Freaks and Geeks and laughed and at a certain point it seemed that everyone should get what sleep they could, and somehow we did until about 5 a.m. when contractions woke me up.
I have to interrupt this blog entry to mention that I'm lying here on my bed next to the baby and he's watching a parasol mobile I have over the bed and we were impressed by his focus and I moved to look at him and he saw my face and broke into a wide, dimpled grin and that made me cry and I think it's the first time I've cried in a week but it was amazing and beautiful and I am in love with my son.
Ok, so contractions at 5 a.m. and they were uncomfortable and they woke me up, and I had had all of this sureness, and this seemed like a good time to call Becky, and maybe here I need to recollect that my previous three experiences going into labor included:
1) at 41 1/2 weeks having some bloody show and going to the Czech hospital where they proceeded to break my waters and put me on pitocin.
2) a scheduled induction at 40 weeks because of high blood pressure.
3) after two weeks of false labor and being 4 cm dilated, having a nasty stomach bug that precipitated labor.
This wasn't like any of those times, but I remembered enough actually being in labor to recognize this wasn't all the way in labor, only I couldn't remember anything to get me from where I was into actual labor. As if it were up to me. But it was embarrassing to have everybody sitting around waiting and have the contractions I was having taper off to nothing. Purely in retrospect, of course, I'm really glad I had that night of early labor, feeling loved and supported, because when it came to the actual labor that led to birth, there turned out not to be time to experience it, but as I experienced it, there was some feeling cheated, frustrated and disappointed as I kept waking every morning for the next week still pregnant. And unable to resume normal life -- we went out to dinner Monday night and I ordered just a salad and was completely unable to eat it; Raven had to go to his office and sign some papers, and waiting for him I couldn't bear sitting still, I had to pace, doing laps around the parking lot. But no labor. He spontaneously decided to work from home all week which was wonderful -- I was so happy to have that time together, and this feeling of being offered something I could never ask for made me feel incredibly loved. And Lisa was providing the world's best entertainment for the kids, taking them cool places, setting up a fish tank with them, so I relaxed, read, napped, walked, and spent more time alone with my husband than we had had since before having children.
Wednesday I went to see my midwife's partner, whom I had only met once before, and that at an appointment which Jenny had come along to, with her two daughters and two of my sons, a crazy chaotic introduction. But I trust Becky enough to trust anyone she trusts. Only the appointment started with her mentioning scolding someone not to get in the tub before labor was truly underway, which made me guilty and sure I had stopped labor Sunday morning by getting in the tub. She brought up last resort things to bring on labor to avoid going to the hospital for an induction, when the possibility that I would have to go to a hospital had never crossed my mind. And she told me to set up an appointment for a biophysical profile ultrasound, just to make sure everything was ok, which sent me into a panic that everything wasn't. I had walked through this pregnancy with a confidence I'd never had before -- "I've done everything I can to have a healthy pregnancy and the rest of it isn't up to me." And that confidence had convinced me I didn't need an ultrasound. I'd become, I admit, sort of proud of not having an ultrasound. And to come this far and have to go do one! And though comparing notes on these things is silly, last year Jenny gave birth at 42 weeks, the day before she was supposed to go for her biophysical profile, so from talking to her, I'd thought I wouldn't have to go until the following week. It was a strange thing, talking to a midwife I liked, personally, and feeling sure she is a great midwife, but being frustrated that communication lacked the clarity I am accustomed to, the reassurance I find in Becky's calm and generally unflappable manner. It probably is simply unwise to see anyone you don't know well when you're 41 1/2 weeks pregnant and on the edge of crazy. That afternoon and evening were the hardest of the whole pregnancy. I fought with Lisa, which felt terrible, and I was mad, frustrated, scared, tired, and having to just face the reality that this was beyond my control.
Raven and I went together Thrusday morning to get the ultrasound done, and it was fine, reassuring, and relatively anticlimactic. The baby had plenty of fluid and the technician gave us a picture of the hair on his head. Raven and I went for a long walk at the mall that afternoon and everything felt ok again. Friday morning I was to take castor oil -- something I had tried when facing induction with Xander and decided never to try again. I got up two hours before everyone else in the house, to have some quiet and the bathroom to myself, and it was a pretty uncomfortable morning, but something that would be worth it if it would bring the baby at last. But all I got were a few wimpy contractions in the afternoon.
Lisa had to leave Sunday and things were beginning to feel desperate. Saturday Raven called Becky -- something I would have been uncomfortable doing because there was still NOTHING happening and who wants to disturb someone busy just to report nothing, but she offered to come to the house to do another exam, and gave me some herbs to take. And I did faithfully, getting minor contractions, but nothing really uncomfortable. She suggested walks, so Saturday night Raven and I did a 2 1/2 mile walk to Whole Foods and back. And again Sunday morning, so that I was accusing him of trying to exhaust me so I couldn't push out a baby. And then it was time for LIsa to leave.
My parents had tickets to come Tuesday morning, and I woke up Monday thinking about calling them and asking them not to come. Jenny had planned to take the older boys to a waterpark, but it was a rainy morning and we decided to wait until noon and see. So I went grocery shopping with all three of my sons while Raven worked from home, the weather cleared, and Jenny showed up to take them. She called a short while later from a pay phone, having forgotten her cell phone, but again nothing was happening. Becky came by again at 4:00 for one more exam and to talk about the options and how things would happen, if there was no baby before Thursday, which is when I would have to go to a hospital for an induction. We had to decide whether or not to rupture the amniotic membranes and decided that we did not need to set that clock in motion even if it were possible it might start labor, because once it was done I would have to be in active labor within 24 hours. The baby's head was not coming down straight to apply any pressure to my cervix, so she manipulated a bit so it would, and recommended walking, and if contractions started up again, doing all we could to intensify the contractions, not backing down or seeking comfort. Which seemed like a fine idea, except that there were no contractions. So when she left, Raven resumed some work phone calls, I loaded Søren in the stroller and went for a walk. And within half a block found my knuckles were white on the stroller. But perhaps that one contraction was a fluke. I kept walking, and half a block later, yes, this one lasted fifty steps. Half a block more and it suddenly seemed like a very stupid thing to be out walking with no help and just unseemly should I need to scream on the street, so I started home. But after so many false starts, it was hard to trust this was really it. I remember dashing in the door and racing for the bathroom, startling Raven, and sort of pacing wildly about the house, yelling to let him know when contractions were beginning and ending so he could time them, and yes, well maybe if the contractions stayed like this for three more contractions he should call Becky back...
Then it was pacing the house, hanging off of the bunk bed in the boys' room, bracing myself against the door frame of the kitchen. Only this was probably a bit scary to Søren. So I put on a mix of my favorite children's music and danced in the living room with him, both of us laughing, somehow. And Raven refilled the tub, and Jenny did call to say they were at dinner -- we suggested she come pick up Søren to take him and Aodán and Xander to our friend Kelly's and then return here. I can clearly recall the feeling of having a contraction and throwing myself into it, pushing against it, embracing it, challenging it. Only then the contractions became so uncomfortable that I was pacing again to be in a room where Søren wasn't. I remembered the pilates ball in the bedroom and gave it some consideration -- was this seeking comfort when I should be trying to intensify? -- no the intensity was already all I could take. And I was doing this alone, and I've never been alone at this stage of labor before even though to some extent you're always alone, but, and this sounds strange, it was sort of cool to be relying on myself. And then Becky was here and one more examination and 8 cm but this didn't matter so much, I just wanted to know if I could get in the tub. And needing Raven. His hand on my back was the only comfort that existed, only he was busy keeping Søren away and making calls. Kelly's husband Kyle was coming to pick up Søren and Jenny needed to just drop the boys off and get here as quickly as possible. I remember a few exchanges. I was only capable of direct and literal communication, but I didn't feel like I got to that weird, hypnotic other state of suspended time where I was before Søren was born. I'd have a contraction and then try to tell Raven how to explain to Jenny where Kelly's was, and Søren was curious about what was going on and wandering down to see me, and at this point that was ok. At last Søren was gone and Raven was in the tub with me, and I remember commenting I had no idea what position I needed to be in to push -- "Do you need to push?" -- "Oh, no. Not yet." Then, trying to figure out how I needed Raven to support me and kneeling and hugging , and then down on my hands and knees "I'm pushing now." And he was here, hand on his head, and another push, and a third, and coming up between my legs, my baby.
Jenny walked in with us still in that position and got a couple of pictures. Then we went to the bedroom. I was able to joke again about how bleeding on the Persian rug in the living room would increase its value, a sign that I was really back. And then the next couple hours were a rush, measuring, examining my new son, making phone calls, the boys returning -- giddy happiness, and the peaceful quiet when it was just me, Raven and the baby again.
On the other hand, I don't know where to tell the story from: it encompasses a pregnancy and previous births, it held in it my relationships with my husband, my children, my mother, my best friend, my sister, my midwife. Also, a lot of what I would want somebody to understand about what the birth was and what it meant includes a difficult postpartum recovery, and how I want to talk about that without people thinking of the Andrea Yates extreme -- I understand the potential scope of postpartum depression but the idea of harming myself or my children is pretty alien (except for wondering if this next unexplained crying jag is going to be the one that signals the loss of sanity). I can only conclude that sometimes when you have a two week old who cries whenever he isn't being held, and a toddler whose needs are being met in a compromised way, and you are trying to feed yourself and three children using only one arm because the other one's holding an upset baby, sometimes crying is the sane response, because it is hard. And then, slowly it gets better. Plus, I love being pregnant, and I loved the birth, and I had to mourn the end of that in my life since we intend for Rainer to be our last, so for a couple of weeks I walked around feeling like I had a hole inside me where a human being used to fit. And none of that means that I'm not overjoyed with my baby. But I think I need to write about the postpartum thing separately because it is really big deal and I am still clinging to this birth.
As with Søren's birth, I sort of expected a couple of weeks of false labor (a name I hate because it feels real and in both of these pregnancies resulted in four centimeters of dilation, just not in anything more, like, say, birth). And I really didn't have any until two days before I was forty weeks. That seemed to happen only because my midwife, Becky, had to drive to Austin and seemed worried I might go into labor and I am pretty darn suggestible. But we expected false labor and although I was uncomfortable, neither Raven nor I got excited about timing the contractions that lasted only a couple of hours. I was due July 12th, and my sister had a plane ticket to arrive the 15th, and I was confidently predicting labor on the 17th. I had an appointment on the morning of the 15th and sure enough, the false labor of the previous weekend had me a modest 2 cm dilated and it seemed like things were in place to happen, and I picked up my sister, Lisa, at the airport with a sort of "You're just in time!"
The morning of the 17th, a Saturday, I woke up feeling different. Jittery. Excited. I knew this would be the day. Something was different about food. My mental state felt like labor, sort of indecisive and fluffy, and some difficulty keeping my mind on things. I decided to go to yoga because sitting around the house waiting would be unbearable, and yoga was good. Then we went for lunch at Benihana, and afterwards to get a few deli items at Eatzi's. No contractions yet, but still I was sure, I knew. There was a plan to nap when I got home but diarrhea and jitteriness precluded that, so we called Jenny, my best friend, whom I really wanted at this birth, and decided she would come in a hour or so, called Becky to ask about filling up the tub. And then we waited. There were contractions, but nothing terribly timable or uncomfortable, It was a rather fun, party-like atmosphere, we watched three episodes of Freaks and Geeks and laughed and at a certain point it seemed that everyone should get what sleep they could, and somehow we did until about 5 a.m. when contractions woke me up.
I have to interrupt this blog entry to mention that I'm lying here on my bed next to the baby and he's watching a parasol mobile I have over the bed and we were impressed by his focus and I moved to look at him and he saw my face and broke into a wide, dimpled grin and that made me cry and I think it's the first time I've cried in a week but it was amazing and beautiful and I am in love with my son.
Ok, so contractions at 5 a.m. and they were uncomfortable and they woke me up, and I had had all of this sureness, and this seemed like a good time to call Becky, and maybe here I need to recollect that my previous three experiences going into labor included:
1) at 41 1/2 weeks having some bloody show and going to the Czech hospital where they proceeded to break my waters and put me on pitocin.
2) a scheduled induction at 40 weeks because of high blood pressure.
3) after two weeks of false labor and being 4 cm dilated, having a nasty stomach bug that precipitated labor.
This wasn't like any of those times, but I remembered enough actually being in labor to recognize this wasn't all the way in labor, only I couldn't remember anything to get me from where I was into actual labor. As if it were up to me. But it was embarrassing to have everybody sitting around waiting and have the contractions I was having taper off to nothing. Purely in retrospect, of course, I'm really glad I had that night of early labor, feeling loved and supported, because when it came to the actual labor that led to birth, there turned out not to be time to experience it, but as I experienced it, there was some feeling cheated, frustrated and disappointed as I kept waking every morning for the next week still pregnant. And unable to resume normal life -- we went out to dinner Monday night and I ordered just a salad and was completely unable to eat it; Raven had to go to his office and sign some papers, and waiting for him I couldn't bear sitting still, I had to pace, doing laps around the parking lot. But no labor. He spontaneously decided to work from home all week which was wonderful -- I was so happy to have that time together, and this feeling of being offered something I could never ask for made me feel incredibly loved. And Lisa was providing the world's best entertainment for the kids, taking them cool places, setting up a fish tank with them, so I relaxed, read, napped, walked, and spent more time alone with my husband than we had had since before having children.
Wednesday I went to see my midwife's partner, whom I had only met once before, and that at an appointment which Jenny had come along to, with her two daughters and two of my sons, a crazy chaotic introduction. But I trust Becky enough to trust anyone she trusts. Only the appointment started with her mentioning scolding someone not to get in the tub before labor was truly underway, which made me guilty and sure I had stopped labor Sunday morning by getting in the tub. She brought up last resort things to bring on labor to avoid going to the hospital for an induction, when the possibility that I would have to go to a hospital had never crossed my mind. And she told me to set up an appointment for a biophysical profile ultrasound, just to make sure everything was ok, which sent me into a panic that everything wasn't. I had walked through this pregnancy with a confidence I'd never had before -- "I've done everything I can to have a healthy pregnancy and the rest of it isn't up to me." And that confidence had convinced me I didn't need an ultrasound. I'd become, I admit, sort of proud of not having an ultrasound. And to come this far and have to go do one! And though comparing notes on these things is silly, last year Jenny gave birth at 42 weeks, the day before she was supposed to go for her biophysical profile, so from talking to her, I'd thought I wouldn't have to go until the following week. It was a strange thing, talking to a midwife I liked, personally, and feeling sure she is a great midwife, but being frustrated that communication lacked the clarity I am accustomed to, the reassurance I find in Becky's calm and generally unflappable manner. It probably is simply unwise to see anyone you don't know well when you're 41 1/2 weeks pregnant and on the edge of crazy. That afternoon and evening were the hardest of the whole pregnancy. I fought with Lisa, which felt terrible, and I was mad, frustrated, scared, tired, and having to just face the reality that this was beyond my control.
Raven and I went together Thrusday morning to get the ultrasound done, and it was fine, reassuring, and relatively anticlimactic. The baby had plenty of fluid and the technician gave us a picture of the hair on his head. Raven and I went for a long walk at the mall that afternoon and everything felt ok again. Friday morning I was to take castor oil -- something I had tried when facing induction with Xander and decided never to try again. I got up two hours before everyone else in the house, to have some quiet and the bathroom to myself, and it was a pretty uncomfortable morning, but something that would be worth it if it would bring the baby at last. But all I got were a few wimpy contractions in the afternoon.
Lisa had to leave Sunday and things were beginning to feel desperate. Saturday Raven called Becky -- something I would have been uncomfortable doing because there was still NOTHING happening and who wants to disturb someone busy just to report nothing, but she offered to come to the house to do another exam, and gave me some herbs to take. And I did faithfully, getting minor contractions, but nothing really uncomfortable. She suggested walks, so Saturday night Raven and I did a 2 1/2 mile walk to Whole Foods and back. And again Sunday morning, so that I was accusing him of trying to exhaust me so I couldn't push out a baby. And then it was time for LIsa to leave.
My parents had tickets to come Tuesday morning, and I woke up Monday thinking about calling them and asking them not to come. Jenny had planned to take the older boys to a waterpark, but it was a rainy morning and we decided to wait until noon and see. So I went grocery shopping with all three of my sons while Raven worked from home, the weather cleared, and Jenny showed up to take them. She called a short while later from a pay phone, having forgotten her cell phone, but again nothing was happening. Becky came by again at 4:00 for one more exam and to talk about the options and how things would happen, if there was no baby before Thursday, which is when I would have to go to a hospital for an induction. We had to decide whether or not to rupture the amniotic membranes and decided that we did not need to set that clock in motion even if it were possible it might start labor, because once it was done I would have to be in active labor within 24 hours. The baby's head was not coming down straight to apply any pressure to my cervix, so she manipulated a bit so it would, and recommended walking, and if contractions started up again, doing all we could to intensify the contractions, not backing down or seeking comfort. Which seemed like a fine idea, except that there were no contractions. So when she left, Raven resumed some work phone calls, I loaded Søren in the stroller and went for a walk. And within half a block found my knuckles were white on the stroller. But perhaps that one contraction was a fluke. I kept walking, and half a block later, yes, this one lasted fifty steps. Half a block more and it suddenly seemed like a very stupid thing to be out walking with no help and just unseemly should I need to scream on the street, so I started home. But after so many false starts, it was hard to trust this was really it. I remember dashing in the door and racing for the bathroom, startling Raven, and sort of pacing wildly about the house, yelling to let him know when contractions were beginning and ending so he could time them, and yes, well maybe if the contractions stayed like this for three more contractions he should call Becky back...
Then it was pacing the house, hanging off of the bunk bed in the boys' room, bracing myself against the door frame of the kitchen. Only this was probably a bit scary to Søren. So I put on a mix of my favorite children's music and danced in the living room with him, both of us laughing, somehow. And Raven refilled the tub, and Jenny did call to say they were at dinner -- we suggested she come pick up Søren to take him and Aodán and Xander to our friend Kelly's and then return here. I can clearly recall the feeling of having a contraction and throwing myself into it, pushing against it, embracing it, challenging it. Only then the contractions became so uncomfortable that I was pacing again to be in a room where Søren wasn't. I remembered the pilates ball in the bedroom and gave it some consideration -- was this seeking comfort when I should be trying to intensify? -- no the intensity was already all I could take. And I was doing this alone, and I've never been alone at this stage of labor before even though to some extent you're always alone, but, and this sounds strange, it was sort of cool to be relying on myself. And then Becky was here and one more examination and 8 cm but this didn't matter so much, I just wanted to know if I could get in the tub. And needing Raven. His hand on my back was the only comfort that existed, only he was busy keeping Søren away and making calls. Kelly's husband Kyle was coming to pick up Søren and Jenny needed to just drop the boys off and get here as quickly as possible. I remember a few exchanges. I was only capable of direct and literal communication, but I didn't feel like I got to that weird, hypnotic other state of suspended time where I was before Søren was born. I'd have a contraction and then try to tell Raven how to explain to Jenny where Kelly's was, and Søren was curious about what was going on and wandering down to see me, and at this point that was ok. At last Søren was gone and Raven was in the tub with me, and I remember commenting I had no idea what position I needed to be in to push -- "Do you need to push?" -- "Oh, no. Not yet." Then, trying to figure out how I needed Raven to support me and kneeling and hugging , and then down on my hands and knees "I'm pushing now." And he was here, hand on his head, and another push, and a third, and coming up between my legs, my baby.
Jenny walked in with us still in that position and got a couple of pictures. Then we went to the bedroom. I was able to joke again about how bleeding on the Persian rug in the living room would increase its value, a sign that I was really back. And then the next couple hours were a rush, measuring, examining my new son, making phone calls, the boys returning -- giddy happiness, and the peaceful quiet when it was just me, Raven and the baby again.
Posted: Sat - August 28, 2004 at 11:53 PM