tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38810744616076061552024-01-25T18:03:39.353-08:00Women in ChargeWelcome to Women in Charge-- a birth blog project of Wisewoman Childbirth Traditions. This blog is here to empower and encourage women to take charge of their bodies, their babies and their births. Women are powerful and women are strong. We are in charge.Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.comBlogger412125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-32047086749128341072018-07-27T11:23:00.001-07:002018-07-27T11:23:10.573-07:00Day 5, Backpack Day!<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday we finally gave away the backpacks that families
from Rye collected for Gampson’s school children. The storage room at the
Midwives for Haiti house that housed our 600 pounds of donatables is finally
looking sparse. Over the course of the week, I gave away school supplies and
tooth brushes to Mitial, another man with a small orphanage/school. I gave
purses to my midwife friends. Magdala’s kids got back packs, dried mango and
more duct tape to make flowers and wallets. Backpacks were given for the
children of the kitchen staff and the drivers. Special gifts were carried for
good friends. Guerlie received a pair of high heels that were miraculously the
perfect size. My midwife friend, Esther, got a beautiful beaded bag. Miss
Genette received toothbrushes for her nieces and nephews, a small purse, a bag
of dried mangos and a Maria-made zipper pouch. Sofia, Viola’s teenage friend
who got “kicked out” of the orphanage, received new clothes including
underwear, long dresses, a pair of leather sandals, and one mini skirt. We have
backpacks full of clothes for Jubelle, another teen, and Mitsushi, the baby of
a midwifery student from last year that Viola fell in love with. Magdala
received the best of all: a pink bonnet with a flower and ribbon that I had to
carry from San Francisco on my head so that it wouldn’t get crushed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, yesterday, the boys loaded the 3 big bags of backpacks
and tarps onto the three-wheeler. It pulls a covered trailer that can carry 6
people. It’s great for those days when we need to bring larger items that won’t
travel well on the back of a motorcycle. The ride in the three-wheeler is our
least favorite mode of travel. Everyone here calls it the “washing machine,”
such is our rough and tumble ride.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we arrived at Gampson’s, over 100 children were waiting
for us. They were seated in the school benches to overflowing. They sang us
songs and welcomed us with in-unison greetings. I was sure that there were more
kids than we had backpacks. Gampson said not to worry. We decided to give out
toothbrushes once we ran out of backpacks. Viola, Matthew and Daniel organized
the backpacks by color and size. Two at a time, kids came in and chose their
favorite. They also received 2 pencils and an eraser. It was a pretty smooth
operation, and by noon, all the backpacks were handed out. Small victories.</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-28788506039972902002018-07-25T19:49:00.002-07:002018-07-25T19:49:26.411-07:00Day 4 - A mural, a row boat and a goat named Viola<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s 10pm on Day 4 of our trip and I am finally able to sit
down and jot down a few thoughts. It is hot. Haiti hot.
Hard-to-fall-asleep-at-night hot. Two-showers-a-day hot. Sticky. Sweaty. Hot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A good morning at the Azil. Tyler is working on a mural of a
church that will be scenery for a play. The tall, slender, French nun, Sister
Schwe, is full of ideas. She wants to do a play. When we had arrived, a young
boy named Stevenson was putting together some flattened cardboard boxes to make
the wall for her theatrical church. Man, good thing we brought 10 pounds of
duct tape with us! You just never know when it will come in handy. Tyler used
the duct tape to shore up the cardboard backdrop. If you glue brown paper bags
to the cardboard, voíla - a blank canvas. Sister Schwe was so pleased to learn
that Tyler makes murals. I am sure she thanked God for sending this lovely
young man to her at this very moment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We mostly held babies and younger children because that is
what you do at the Azil. We have grown fond of the little one that was rescued
from the latrine. We learned that a woman passing by heard some crying and
convinced some others to help her rescue the newborn baby girl. When she was brought
out of the latrine, she already had areas on her body where the worms were
starting to eat her flesh. We decided that our name for her should mean value
and, thus, we named her Valerie. There are 110 children at the Azil. Even the
staff and nuns who totally know each child’s story don’t always remember or
know their names. We are happy to name them for the short time that we will
know them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the afternoon, we went to visit Magdala and Pastor Jude.
They live off a rocky, dirt road, on the outskirts of town. They have a lot of
land, including 2 man-made lakes, one of which includes a fishery. Their own
children are grown but they still care for 10 orphans and support a school of
200 children. In the past, they have offered up part of their land to use as a
Cholera Quarantine Encampment. They have plans to build a birth center on their
land next<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Magdala is one of the original Midwives for Haiti midwives.
I haven’t seen her in a couple of years because last year she was sick and had
traveled to the US when we were in Haiti. Pastor Jude is committed to the
notion that she was sick with a “Haitian problem.” He thinks that someone hates
her and put a curse on her but since he believes in God and has faith in God,
she got better. Magdala tells me that she had a bone infection and thyroid
issues. Nonetheless, she is on the mend and we were very happy to spend the
afternoon together. We all made duct tape wallets and flowers for the kids,
Matthew and Daniel attempted to row an inflatable boat around the lake, and we
hiked to see Viola, the goat. 4 years ago, Pastor Jude named two goats after
Viola and Tallulah. We’re happy to say that Viola the goat is doing very well!</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-1923117747702969242018-07-23T18:59:00.000-07:002018-07-24T03:43:16.059-07:00Day 2: An Introduction to Hinche<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hl3xLi4NFag/W1aFJTJ_dUI/AAAAAAAACl0/2QA3c9qmRgYiaodpJg3ROPsORuhoFT9vwCLcBGAs/s1600/on_bike.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="756" data-original-width="1008" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hl3xLi4NFag/W1aFJTJ_dUI/AAAAAAAACl0/2QA3c9qmRgYiaodpJg3ROPsORuhoFT9vwCLcBGAs/s320/on_bike.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mother Theresa’s order of nuns run feeding centers and orphanages around the world. In Hinche, they have a feeding center where they take in malnourished children, nurture them back to health, and then send them home to their families. Some children are there for 6 weeks, others could stay there for a year. If they have family close by, they can come to visit once a week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Azil, the feeding center, is an enclosed compound, which also contains a school and a small chapel. Graceful women, in Mother Theresa’s white and blue flowing cloth, care for the children. They seem to know each child’s story by heart. Dina was horrified when the nun told her, with little affect, the number of children whose mothers had died and the one baby that was found in the toilet. The children are grouped by age with rows of metal cribs or small cots – the babies have their own room, toddlers in the next, 3- to 4-year-olds up front. We are allowed to “take a child” from their bed, but must remember which bed they came from so that the child can be returned to the correct bed. The importance of this became apparent to me when the nun, Sister Shwe, pointed out to me which children were being treated for tuberculosis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We played with the children and helped to feed them all morning. Their 10am snack is a quarter of a hard-boiled egg, half a banana and half of a special nutrient bar that is made for malnourished children. The bar reminds me of a softer, vanilla PowerBar; the children know how to squeeze out every bit of its contents. Some children do not want to eat, and that’s where we come in, encouraging and cajoling a bit of protein into their swollen tummies. The babies are fed formula; Viola and Dina worked the bottles along with the Haitian staff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Playing with the littlest ones is like being in a corn maze: the sweet soul of a child is deep inside and yet finding it through the malnutrition, the abandonment, the loneliness, is often hard to find. Matthew rolled a ball to 4 standing 2 year olds with no squeals of joy or even movement on their parts. That is, for the first 5 minutes. When I returned to the room, Matthew had worked his way through the maze to find their playful selves. The children were running around the room, rolling the ball and running after it. The pursuit of little victories is why we are here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was easy for Dina to encourage the 4-year-old girls to dance with her silly, ukelele songs. Daniel played with the children with ease, creating a spontaneous finger puppet show, playing catch with the older kids and lining up Nicholas’ donated matchbox cars for the toddlers. Tyler held some sweet children until he realized that the nun was trying to create a cardboard mural of a church. This is his jam and what he will be helping with for the rest of the week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only one thing: no pictures allowed in the Azil. Hopefully we can take a picture of Tyler’s creation at the end. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, here are a few pics from our afternoon orphanage visit. 10 children stay in a small, cement house. We were able to donate enough money for Mitial, the director, to buy 5 new cot mattresses so that fewer children needed to sleep on the floor.</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-22192723317645659112018-07-22T19:36:00.002-07:002018-07-23T17:01:47.737-07:00The adventure begins!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I sit on the veranda at the Midwives for Haiti house, all is right with the world. Let’s just say, all is right with my world. After postponing the trip due to a fuel hike that caused rioting and protests in the streets in Port-Au-Prince, we got the green light last Monday that the roadblocks were cleared and it would be safe for us to make the 2 and half hour road trip from PAP to Hinche, in the Central Plateau.</div>
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Still, even though our State Department had lowered their travel advisory from 4 (the highest – DO NOT TRAVEL) to 3 (Reconsider non-essential travel), there was still some obvious concern about us going. We even consulted my sister’s neighbor/psychic to see if there was a black cloud over the trip. He only saw a friendly man with an aqua blue shirt, perhaps a helper who would bring us important information. For me, my mind was quiet, without the usual buzz of anxiety </div>
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that precedes travel. We traveled to NY during our now-free week and a chance encounter with the volunteer coordinator from Midwives For Haiti felt like a good omen. As we left a small bodega in Brooklyn, we passed by Bisma, who we had met in Haiti the summer before. Dina recognized her and reflexively turned and shouted, “Zamni mwe!” “My friend!” Bisma turned and recognized us immediately and we all had a good laugh over the tiniest of probabilities that we would meet up at 10pm on the streets of New York City. Our good feelings of Haiti and the Midwives program washed over us, comforting any uneasiness about the trip.</div>
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We (Dina, Viola and I) arrived in Port Au Prince on Saturday morning, a half hour before my two nephews, Matthew and Daniel, and their cousin/chaperone, my son, Tyler. From years of hearing about our travels to Haiti, Matthew, who is 11, decided that he wanted to come too. </div>
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So, all year, Matthew, Daniel and my sister, Laura, collected 100 backpacks, school supplies, 360 pairs of underwear, 6 giant traveling duffel bags, over 300 tooth brushes, tooth paste, 100 reading glasses, 8 tarps and assorted odds and ends that would be appropriate for the children of Hinche. It felt easy and exciting to meet the three of them as they descended the escalator to the baggage claim in Port Au Prince.</div>
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We loaded up our 600 pounds of donated items on 6 carts and played follow the leader out of the airport. For our part, we brought medical supplies, clean birth kits, 80 Sunday-best dresses for the girls at Maison Fortuné, supplies for our Friday night dance party, bug repellant, baby clothes, purses for the midwives, money in you-better-believe-I-sewed-them zipper pouches, balls for the toddlers at Mother Theresa’s feeding center, hair extensions for the teens, barrettes and colorful hair ties for the younger ones).</div>
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Our trip along the road to Hinche was oddly more peaceful than usual. Maybe it was that we had a more mini-bus type experience; 13 people traveling without luggage is a Haitian luxury. Our bags traveled alone in the Land Cruiser that usually carries us as well. Maybe it was that we took a different route out of Port-au-Prince, I feel that we were farther to the east, circumnavigating the heart of the city. Maybe it was the calm after a contentious week of political unrest; the Prime Minister resigned which was one of the demands of the angry mobs. Matthew fell asleep immediately and in 2 and a half, easy hours, we arrived in Hinche.</div>
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We visited the girls at Maison Fortuné after dinner, learning that almost all of the children, boys and girls, would be going to an overnight camp for the whole week, leaving the following day. Seeing as just hanging out with the girls was high on our agenda list, we needed to pack in our connections and salutations into 2 short visits. Viola passed out the photos that we had taken in 2017, Daniel handed out Skittles and Starburst. We introduced Tyler, Daniel and Matthew all around. A good time was had by all.</div>
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We fell asleep last night fed, showered, exhausted, and content. We are all here - safe, sound, and ready for an adventurous Haitian week.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matthew finds other entertainment with duct tape</td></tr>
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Off to camp!</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-50543490307671017892017-08-05T03:35:00.000-07:002017-08-08T20:58:32.475-07:00Faces of HaitiSomehow, this trip has gone by in a flash. We are committed to 2 orphanages and the Midwives for Haiti program. So, it seems, every moment is filled with some activity or other. We've loved every minute of it and the consensus is that we wish we could stay longer. We said goodbye to the girls at Maison Fortuné tonite with another party. We sang and danced and the girls were treated to popcorn, sweet dried mangoes, Jolly Rancher candies and birthday cake! It is Miss Genette's birthday today. We cut up 4 birthday cakes and fed 85 girls. Miss Genette is one of the lead midwives in the program that we have known now for 7 years. I forgot to ask how old she is today, I think mid- to late 40s. She told me this was the first birthday party she ever had.<br />
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Here are just some of the beautiful faces of Haiti:<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-67702186717343477602017-07-31T17:28:00.004-07:002017-08-02T13:41:41.723-07:00Bèl Dezòd la<div class="MsoNormal">
(from Dina: Hinche, Haiti)</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b39coBKITUw/WX_I7z6QnJI/AAAAAAAACdw/gJyCSZSUrns50TR_1jvVbGsPA7N_8QOzwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b39coBKITUw/WX_I7z6QnJI/AAAAAAAACdw/gJyCSZSUrns50TR_1jvVbGsPA7N_8QOzwCEwYBhgL/s400/Sunrise.jpg" width="400" /></a>Early this morning Maria and I took a “ti mache” (little
walk) around the corner, literally. We left the Sage Femme pou Ayiti (Midwives for Haiti) house and
took 2 quick rights and the most beautiful vista was right in front of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People walked quietly to work and
school while the call of cows and goats lightly filled the air.<br />
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Later that day we had our usual visit with the girls at the
Orphanage. We have gotten to know them very well after 7 years so we quickly
fall into our routine. Viola starts playing a very structured volleyball game
which then devolves into different forms of "dez<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">ò</span>d" (chaos): dancing to the rhythm
of "the bucket", singing, patty-cake, screaming, and “ap fe blag” (making
joke).<br />
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Last Friday we had our customary "ti fèt la" (little party)
for the girls. We bought 120 bags of Chicos and 120 bottles of Tampico. The
girls decorated the place and we played music (thanks to our driver David who
lent us his "musik bwat"!). This year we brought some chalk to draw on the
concrete. That activity lasted about 5 minutes before they started to use the
chalk to make up their faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
dancing and excitement always grows as it gets darker and darker.<br />
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There are 84 girls now at Maison Fortune and they have a
very strong bond. We were there to witness several of the girls returning from
vacation. "Se Louvitha! Se Losuvitha!," they scream as they go running to meet
one of them at the front gate. They surround her with big smiles and laughs, take her
bags and walk her to her room.<br />
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It is a beautiful chaos.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-71613771042535761052017-07-30T19:04:00.001-07:002017-07-30T19:04:12.687-07:00Haitian Home visits!I jumped at the chance to do home visits here in Haiti. This is by far my most intimate view into the life of a Haitian mother and baby. Clinically, the visits are largely the same as my visits at home: how are you? how are things with the baby? Is the baby latching well? I weigh the baby, check the mom's abdomen (too often checking her vertical C-section sutures). Culturally, I am wide-eyed and listening. Babies with abdominal bands to make their muscles strong and little strings on their wrists to ward off evil spirits. The dangers of voo doo. Of course the visits are different because I arrive on the back of a motorcycle to a small alley where people are sitting outside, directing us to the new mother and baby. Sometimes it is a typical Haitian shack away from the downtown of Hinche with barefooted children who run away with a smile and a piwili (lollipop) offered to them by the blan (white lady).<br />
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We went to Miss Genette's house today so that she could teach me how to make Haitian meat sauce. It is a savory, salty, peppers and tomato-based sauce with small bits of meat. The meat is usually goat but today we made the sauce with chicken legs, feet and necks.<br />
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Here are photos from the first week's home visits:<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-12706898180052714742017-07-26T20:56:00.000-07:002017-07-26T20:56:48.482-07:00Busy days!<div class="MsoNormal">
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July 26, 2017</div>
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We have been so busy. Then, at the end of the day, when I
can finally sit at a computer, sometimes the internet is down. Like tonite. I’m
writing this offline and hopefully can post it tomorrow.</div>
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Yesterday I went to the ti-clinic. That is the little
clinic, meaning 15-20 women will show up as opposed to 60-80. It is 45 minutes
on a motorcycle (three to a bike of course!), down the dusty, development road
out of Hinche. The midwives come every week to this countryside outpost – a
small shack with a dirt floor, a cot, a table and 2 chairs. Outside are wooden,
school-room type benches that I assume makes this a small church or
schoolhouse. We saw only 10 women, 1 newborn. The midwives talked to them about
eating good food. Many of the women seen had had prior C-sections, with wide,
vertical scars to their belly buttons. Hinche is just finding the resources to
do C-sections now. VBAC is nowhere on their radar. </div>
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Upon arrival at the hospital today, all appeared quiet – one
woman awaiting a repeat C – section. By 10am, 2 babies had been born – one by
C-section, the other to a 3<sup>rd</sup> timer with high blood pressure. Four
midwifery students in bright pink scrubs are working together and attending to
the women. Tout bagay anfòm. All is in order. All is good.</div>
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There is a new set up in the hospital for the maternity
ward. Four exam tables are lined up in a rectangular room, separated by shower
curtains blowing in the breeze of the multiple floor fans. White tile and 3 big
windows make the place feel clean. Minimal inspection is necessary to notice
the blood on the floor, dripping from the end of the exam table where the woman
is resting after having given birth. The eye catches the detritus on the moving
shower curtains, an unidentified bodily fluid. All of this is an improvement
from the last maternity ward, despite the fact that the midwives say that the
whole place is too small. When four are delivering at once, I am sure this is
the truth.</div>
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Despite making 95 baby packs with sanitary pads and “sexy coulottes”
(white mesh panties), none of the women I have seen so far in labor and
delivery have these supplies. Cloth rags are folded into rectangular wads and
placed in a clean pair of underwear. The family brings in a clean pair of
clothes for mom and baby less than an hour after birth so that they can both be
moved to the postpartum ward. I feel desperate for the supplies, yet I know
that there are just so many women coming in. So much to do. We will pass out
some of the packs tomorrow at the large mobile clinic so that the women can
bring them in when they are in labor.</div>
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Other happenings:</div>
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Viola and Eva have been going to the orphanages every day.
They love the girls, the girls love them.</div>
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Dr. Laura has been training 4 midwives how to use a small,
portable ultrasound. This is extremely valuable since the Haitian doctors here
charge exorbitant amounts to do the exam. There are moments when the midwives
need to diagnose a fetal demise, twins, or difficult fetal positions. This is a
valuable addition to their skills and services. Until the ultrasound machine
breaks down, of course.<br />
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Dina has been playing her ukelele, helping with our
resident, 6-week old baby. The baby’s name is Mitsushi, but everyone calls her
Sushi for short. Her mom is a student with Midwives for Haiti. She’s a single
mom and brings the baby to the Midwife House every day before she heads to the
hospital for a morning of training in prenatal care. We adore her. <br />
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Miss Genette’s brother, Angelo, opened up a fabulous hotel
with 14 air-conditioned rooms. Whaaaat?? She invited us all for dinner at the
hotel where we met some Canadian teachers. This is where y’all will stay when
you come to Haiti with me next year! </div>
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<span id="goog_741793863"></span><span id="goog_741793864"></span>We gave blood today.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-90621115738937560262017-07-23T20:53:00.001-07:002017-07-31T17:55:54.580-07:00Haiti - We are here!It took us two days to get here, but no time at all to fall in love with Haiti all over again. It is hot and sweaty and dusty and we love it! Having skipped last years trip due to the Zika virus, we haven't seen our friends in two years. The girls at Maison Fortune have grown older and 20 new girls have been embraced into the fold. That leaves the count at 84 girls at the orphanage. We have clothes and shoes and lollipops and band-aids. Soap and hair bands and underwear. Ti-flashes for our traditional party with them on the day before we leave (a ti-flash is a small flashlight). Viola and Eva took their Kreyol class today and sorted mounds of donated items. We made baby packs, and got a tour of downtown Hinche after Mass. We saw Miss Genette and Miss Philomene. Tomorrow I work in the hospital and a new postpartum home visit program.<br />
We are here!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maria passes out photos of the girls that we took from our last visit</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viola greets Miss Genette</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-1352697516500589182015-08-10T07:34:00.001-07:002015-08-10T07:34:44.386-07:00What day is it?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After a hugely successful week, we arrived in New York City. Not without our final medical adventure though.<br />
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After our 3-hour car ride from Hinche to Port Au Prince, checking our much reduced baggage, and settling in to await our flight, Viola fainted and threw up all over the floor. Although she has had episodes like this before, it was still quite dramatic and worrisome for all of us. We laid her down on the floor and I rubbed ice on her neck and back until she felt better to sit up. She borrowed an extra skirt from Norrell and felt good enough to walk onto the plane. The plane ride was uncomfortable and harrowing for her though, vomitting again twice. By the last leg of our trip, Miami to JFK, she had stopped throwing up but was now experiencing body aches all over. Could this be chikungunya? Ugh. She was able to lay across 2 seats with her head on my lap, and that got us landed in New York.<br />
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By Sunday, Viola was feeling intermittently better, but still not 100 per cent. Dina was the next to start feeling some intestinal distress. Because Viola is almost back to normal, I am convinced that it is not a mosquito-born illness like chikungunya or Dengue fever. She never had a fever. But most likely, the combo of illness from the toddlers at the Azil, water-born microbes and motion-sickness. Dina seems to have a typical Haiti dysentery. It is a hazard of the trip. We all managed to stave off the mosquito bites, maybe half a dozen each. But it is so hard to make sure that you do not drink the water. We took daily bucket showers and water can get in your mouth. We ate produce that hopefully and probably was treated correctly for us, but so easy for something to slip through. Even the way dishes are washed can lead to an unfriendly microbe ruining your day.<br />
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So, we are here in NY. Viola and Dina are sleeping way passed 10:30am. I think this will be the last post unless I put up some more photos here and there. Thanks for tuning in, thanks for all your donations, whether you donated money, time, clothes, stuff. We made it all happen together and supported a small town in Haiti, called Hinche.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-71562947162619595932015-08-06T15:38:00.001-07:002015-08-06T15:38:49.982-07:00Kijan ou rele?How are you called?<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Aug
6 Blog:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Guest
Bloggers: Viola & Eva</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today,
in order to remember the names of our sixty five friends at the orphanage, we
decided to take photos of each of the girls with their name tag. With the much
needed assistance of Barbara, we managed to pull it off with minimal chaos. </span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-58959943920146264472015-08-05T14:51:00.001-07:002015-08-05T14:51:56.978-07:00Three for One!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Dina)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are quickly falling into a regular rhythm in Haiti.
Volleyball at 6am (Maria and Norrell “off to work”), then a big nap for us, off
to the boys’ campus for lunch and Kompa-guitar playing, moto-taxi ride to the
Azil (the orphanage run by Mother Theresa’s order), moto-taxi to the Midwives
for Haiti house for dinner and intermittent WiFi, then back to the girls’ for
partying and cold-bucket showers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night was especially hot, but that didn’t stop us and
the girls from Maison Fortune from hanging all over each other for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophia has an amazing voice and we
prompt her to sing her favorite songs for us (Justin Bieber). At one point she
wanted me to translate Bieber lyrics into Kreyol. She would sing the line in
what she thought was English, Viola would translate it to me in English and
then I would attempt to translate in Kreyol. It was exhausting and hilarious. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our Kreyol is getting better and better (pi bon!). Last
night I was so proud of myself when I figured out that Islande is actually NOT
speaking Kreyol but nonsense words. That was until Viola told me, “Oh yeah, she
always does that”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Norrell)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was long, exhausting , and fun. I did C/S number one
at 11am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dr. Celestine gauged my
interest in doing the surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
said, “Sure, I’ll do it,” so there I was in the OR, without him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily the scrub tech and the
anesthesiologist were both Cubanos, so we had a good time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sponges and sutures seem to be
rationed; sponge, suture, and instrument counts were nonexistent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>EVERYTHING is broken in the OR, but
rigged just so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My second C/S was
a 28yo HIV+ lady whose first baby died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had an ugly vertical keloid scar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did her C/S +tubal and an extensive scar revision. C/S
number three for the day had “CPD”, basically completely dilated with extensive
caput after just one hour of pushing- a soft call, but not my place to lecture
them today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this case, people
were coming into the OR to watch and some were taking pictures of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was one patient who took a large dose of malaria
medicine in an attempt at self-abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She got the D&C, just like she did at her last undesired
pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a mainly
Catholic country, where pharmacists don’t usually sell Misoprostol to women,
and where many women are denied tubal ligation due to their age (i.e. under
35yo with 3 kids and 3 late miscarriages did not qualify this week, but the
HIV+ lady got her desired tubal). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Maria)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chajman lou a. The heavy load. I am here because I think I
am helping. If I wasn’t able to do even some small part, I think I wouldn’t
come. But the load is heavy and many hands make light work. Veronique, the
house parent at the girls’ orphanage where we are staying, is in charge of 65
girls from ages 3 to 20. She knows exactly who is who and what their particular
needs are. She knows the 3 girls with learning disabilities and she tells me
that she gives them extra special time with her. She is dedicated and
committed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together we brought our
little 3-year-old with the burns to the state-of-the-art hospital an hour
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was happy to have me
along, as she had never been there before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thus a question: how would you know how to access a health
care system if your whole country has never had one? As Haiti’s healthcare
infrastructure grows, so does the need for the people to know how to use it. I
was happy to feel useful, certainly knowing how to work the system even if it
wasn’t my own. We waited for 4 hours to see an emergency room doctor. On the
crowded benches that looked like pews, a man said that he had been waiting for
24 hours. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No way, I’m an advocate if nothing else. I had taken a tour
of this hospital when it finished 2 years ago, so I knew there were other areas
where we could go. By talking to a doctor at the nurses station on Pediatrics,
I was able to gain entrance into the actual emergency room through a back door.
I just wanted to talk with someone and try to get our little girl triaged
appropriately (and much quicker than 24 hours).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found a blond
American doctor. (We certainly do stick out here.) She was from New Orleans,
and I understood later that she is one of the teaching doctors here for the
Haitian medical residents. People deferred to her. She was willing to come out
and look at Jenica and let me know if we should stay or not. Movement in the
right direction. She looked at the burns and actually thought they were 2<sup>nd</sup>
degree, no admission to the hospital needed, but in order to get meds and
bandages, we needed to wait our turn in the waiting room. Pray some more for
help soon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It certainly begged the question: how long do we wait? 3
hours? 10 hours? 24 hours?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
seemed like we were close to being seen, but it was still so hard to tell. The
girls (we had brought along a 4 year old with a rash, too) sat quietly,
drinking a kool-aid drink and eating a Haitian street sandwich. Darlene takes
care of Jenica like an older sister. Mind you, she’s four. More people fill the
Emergency Room church of Paul Farmer. Most have home-doctored injuries like our
Jenica. Will they all wait 24 hours for care?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One thing that’s different for sure about the Haitian system
and ours: we paid $1 for Jenica to be seen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Three hours into our waiting, a young Haitian doctor
appeared by the reception desk. I jumped at the chance to talk to him and
simply ask where we were in the queue. A 3-year-old with burns? He didn’t even
know about her! But he was friendly and kind, and went looking for her chart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By an hour and a half later, Jenica had been seen by the
doctor, received sedation to do the debridement of her burns, and was all
bandaged up, ready to go home. I was truly grateful for the care for our piti
(little one). The female Haitian doctor that we saw was competent and
compassionate and obviously knew what she was doing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Am I helping? For one, I know that I am just as committed to
our home base-orphanage as I am to the midwifery program. We are here and we
help where we can. If it is helping Veronique and a 3-year-old, so be it. If it
is resuscitating a newborn in respiratory distress, so be it. If it is helping
the midwives to stay committed to their work, so be it. </div>
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The load is heavy. I am willing to do some lifting.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-9626593460281816862015-08-04T15:48:00.001-07:002015-08-04T15:48:09.585-07:00A Haiti Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Prestige is the local beer here and we sit and drink. It has been a long Haiti day for all of us. Lots of stories to tell, but for now, I will just send photos, and rest. A longer post tomorrow about our adventures.<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-83995619930213595592015-08-03T15:48:00.002-07:002015-08-03T15:48:28.168-07:00First Day at the Hospital<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;">Norrell blogs today:</span><br />
Today was our first day at the hospital. We arrived by motorcycle taxi with our translators at 07:00. The first thing that struck me was the odd odor of the place- kind of a fermented B.O. mixed with the open pails of urine at the bedsides and some fish market added in there. It was amazing that all waiting areas were already packed at that hour. We viewed the 8 bed antepartum room, the 8 bed postpartum room and the 5 bed delivery area. Maria and I were locating the supplies when we noticed a midwife rubbing a toweled lump on the counter in the delivery room. We came over and found a 7 minute old girl who had a normal heart rate, was breathing, but very very limp. Not much was happening to attend to the baby. Maria grabbed an ambu bag and started resuscitating her. We found out that her mother had just delivered in the antepartum room after an eclamptic seizure. We spent most of the morning working on this baby, trying to get pediatric attention, trying to get her care in the NICU ( the first one ever in Haiti ) but they 'were full'. Just after noon we finally got her into the NICU for IV fluids, oxygen and antibiotics. The mom was receiving IV blood pressure meds and IV Magnesium to prevent further seizures We will give an update tomorrow.<br />
We struggled with limited supplies and an overall lack of urgency sensed at the hospital.<br />
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When we left in the afternoon we returned to the boys' orphanage for a meal, and Dina jammed on a guitar that only had 4 strings. She played with a boy from the orphanage who played 'KOMPA' jams on the uke.<br />
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Viola and Eva set up the volleyball net at the girls' orphanage and had a big time.<br />
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Then we went to the 'Mother Teresa ' orphanage to play with the babies (prob 20 crib in a room) and the group of 3 and 4 year olds. We think we taught them some songs, maybe they thought we were crazy, but it was fun and we intend to do all of this again tomorrow.<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-55835869304482886272015-08-02T16:36:00.000-07:002015-08-02T16:36:27.051-07:00Nou la nan Hinche!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Arriving on the weekend has afforded us the opportunity to "hang out" with our Haitian friends while we gear up for a busy week ahead. The girls at the orphanage have easily fallen into a common love fest with us. We hang out on our porch and speak to each other in English, Creole and the universal language of hugs and cuddles. Last night we met the newest girls at the orphanage, 3 to 5 year olds, who are all about the lap time.<br />
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This morning we awoke to our first medical adventure, Haiti-style. One of the sweet 3-year-olds, Jenica, received 3rd degree burns on her leg and arm from the open air cooking fire. I heard a commotion in the morning as all the girls ran to the kitchen. Seeing Veronique, the house mother, carrying the little one, I wasn't sure what was going on. Later she came to us and said that the girl had been burned. Although the burns were small, the largest one being only 3cm by 1cm, it was deep and definitely 3rd degree. 2 other areas on her arm were sheered of skin. When I arrived, she was weeping, face down on the bed, to allow the back of her leg to be exposed. The house mothers were worried. Cyclically, she would cry out in pain.<br />
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For 4 years, I have carried burn gel and 2nd skin burn bandages in my bag just in case one of us got hurt. I ran to our dorm room across the way, calling to Norrell along the way to get dressed and come see. Together we dressed the wounds with burn gel and cetocaine gel and 2nd skin. Norrell went off to the hospital to talk with the doctors there, returning with antibiotics, burn ointment and liquid tylenol. By mid morning, she was up with the girls, sitting quietly with a Dum Dum in her mouth.<br />
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We spent the afternoon at the Azil, Mother Theresa's orphanage, in the middle of Hinche. The girls instantly fell in love with the babies and toddlers, planning on their return for the rest of the week.<br />
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Motos and mosquitos and many moments of joyful connections. Tomorrow we begin our work at the hospital.<br />
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Here are photos from our day:<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-77069923178746883182015-08-01T17:27:00.001-07:002015-08-01T17:27:27.992-07:00We are here, we are here, we are here!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Having left San Francisco at 4:30am on Friday, we are now sweating away at the Midwives for Haiti house in Hinche on Saturday evening. Here is what we have done so far:<br />
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Successfully transported 500 pounds of donated clothes, shoes, sneakers, medicines, medical equipment, volleyballs, nets and team T-shirts. Other fun essentials for the orphanage include nail polish, a Table Tennis set, backpacks, crafts supplies and 180 photos from our previous trip to give to the girls.<br />
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Met Ronell, our driver, and travelled the 3 hours that it takes to traverse the 75 miles up and over the the mountains to the Central Plateau<br />
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Arrived at Maison Fortune and hugged all the girls that we have missed so much: Joska, Marilande, Betchilove, Ani, Neslande, Salanta, Michou, Menoushka, Astride, Marilise, Barbara, Marie Denise, and on and on.....<br />
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Had lunch at a Haitian restaurant with the founder of Maison Fortune, Jean Louis. First Haitian food for Dr. Norrell and her daughter, Eva<br />
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Took our first moto rides of the season: 3 motorcycles carrying the 5 of us from the orphanage to the Midwives for Haiti house --woo hoo! What's not to like?<br />
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Chatted with the lovely coordinators at the MFH house about our busy week ahead.<br />
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The plan is to blog daily about our adventures. Here we go!!!!<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-11766446916935333632015-01-26T17:25:00.004-08:002015-01-26T17:38:39.229-08:00Welcome Emilia!! by Maura<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's Emilia's day 6 and I still find it hard to sit and write about the birth, mainly due to the incredible emotions that it brings to memory and I feel like words won't do justice to the miracle of life. <br />
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though I had started feeling strongish Braxton-Hicks about
a week before Emilia was born, stronger and more rhythmic contractions started
on Friday December 19. A friend from my college years came to my house earlier
that day and we chatted for about 2 hours until I wasn't able to sit
comfortably anymore and I said I needed to go to sleep. Unfortunately, sleeping
was not something I was going to be able to do until much later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My husband Andrew came home around 7pm and I told him that
I thought things were starting. I asked him to grab some coconut water on the
way home from dropping my mom off at her house - so glad he took it a step
further and he shopped as if we were going into labor. Once home, we tried
going to sleep but since I couldn't, I decided to move to the guest room and
watch a movie so that Andrew could get as much rest as possible. At
around 10pm I texted our doula Sophia and told her that it looked like
baby was on the way but I didn't think anything was going to happen that night.
She suggested I try a bath and some wine to relax. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Around 1am Andrew joined me in the guest room
and helped me through early labor. Things seemed to be progressing, so Andrew
called our doula at 4am to let her know that I was having
contractions every 5 minutes for about a minute per contraction. Sophia arrived
about an hour later and got immediately to work, helping us look for better
positions for me to labor and overall just doing things to make Andrew and me
feel comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As contractions got closer to 3-1-1 we called Maria and
she joined us at about 9am. She checked me but I didn't want to know how
dilated I was so we just continued with what we were doing. Contractions just
keep getting stronger and stronger and around 1pm I started feeling
some back labor. After a shower, I got into our tub and from the bathroom floor
Andrew helped me through those contractions for about 1 hour. Since Maria knew
that we had taken Rachel Yellin's Hypnobirthing class, she suggested we used
her guided meditations and so we did. I do believe the "tapes"
helped. I was able to take a quick nap in between contractions and generally
get more relaxed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The mucous plug came out at around 2PM and Maria
told me that this was a great sign that things were moving in the right
direction since it most likely meant that my cervix was opening nicely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All sensations really intensified after 3pm, the back
labor got a lot stronger and I just felt like my hips were being ripped apart.
But every time I said "I can't do this anymore" Andrew would tell me
"yes you can, repeat after me, yes I can" and so I would repeat after
him that I could do it. I had also made some affirmation cards that Sophia
would move around for me to read and kept reminding me that my reward was
meeting my baby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While in the tub I had also started feeling a vague feeling
of pushing. With all those signs Maria decided to check me again
around 4pm and thank goodness I was 8 centimeters dilated. I finally
felt that I was going to meet my baby! And about an hour later my membranes
released. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Maria called Sue (our second midwife) and around the same
time the back labor really intensified. Maria and Sue suggested several
positions to try to move the baby but nothing seemed to work until Sue
suggested I put my knees on the edge of the bed and my head on the floor and it
was almost instant! I got up and walked around the kitchen and immediately
started pushing. I was really scared at first but Maria guided me through what
to do. Once Maria was able to feel the head she asked me if I wanted to try the
birthing stool and so we did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We moved back into the guest room, Andrew sitting on the
bed behind me holding my arms while I sat on the birthing stool. I continued to
push and soon enough I heard Maria said "Maura, reach down for your
baby". I just couldn't believe my baby was finally going to join us! As
soon as she came out, Emilia was placed on my chest and that was pure bliss.
Having my brand new baby in my arms and Andrew holding the two of us, my heart
melts just thinking about that moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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After Maria and Sue finished checking Emilia, Maria asked me to push the placenta.<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Everything just seemed to have been a dream after that.
Maria gave me a few stitches and soon after the three of us were on our bed
just in awe of what had taken place in the last 24 hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I truly feel blessed to have had Maria, Sue and Sophia as
my birth team and of course my husband Andrew for being my strong companion. We
can't wait for all the memories to start building with our Emilia as part of
our family. <a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-Yf2wH1kA_Dg%2FVMbo3RD2MMI%2FAAAAAAAACNY%2FBjIFZK5Qs6E%2Fs1600%2FMaura%252B1.jpeg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yf2wH1kA_Dg/VMbo3RD2MMI/AAAAAAAACNY/BjIFZK5Qs6E/s1600/Maura%2B1.jpeg" --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-72813193265473217322014-12-19T17:17:00.004-08:002014-12-19T17:25:37.148-08:00A Tale of Two Sons: a VBAC Story by Vanessa<div class="column">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rpcJhh9oClA/VJTNJ_FX0NI/AAAAAAAACM8/RPFw1Cz5t-E/s1600/IMG_20141122_165148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rpcJhh9oClA/VJTNJ_FX0NI/AAAAAAAACM8/RPFw1Cz5t-E/s1600/IMG_20141122_165148.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I grew up surrounded by
homebirth. Not only was I born at home, but so were my three sisters, two
brothers, and four step siblings. I can vividly remember my parents preparing
for birth, spending hours flipping through my mother’s books about labor and baby
development, and I have strong memories of the births of my youngest two
sisters. These experiences left me with the powerful feeling that birth is a
normal part of life and nothing to fear.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> When I became pregnant
with my first son I was in a new city and we were in the process of buying a
house. I briefly considered planning a homebirth but as an inherently lazy
person I felt the process seemed too complicated. We were in the middle of a
move and my pregnancy was going great I felt better than ever! After a few
minutes searching on Yelp, I found an OB practice and hired a doula. In my
naivety I figured that the place I decided to give birth didn’t matter. Even
though I hated the hospital environment where I was supposed to deliver and
ended up not being happy with my Yelpresearched doctor, I was sure that I
could have a natural and normal birth in any setting. I thought I knew what to
expect.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I went into labor at
midnight on a Friday. I remember calling my mom around 4am PST on Saturday
morning and crying because of intense back pain. She suggested I get out of bed
and see if the pain was coming in a pattern. Sure enough, I was having
contractions. Excited, I woke my husband and we went into motion. We had just
moved two weeks earlier and had yet to install our car seat or pack our
hospital bag. I called my doula to let her know labor had started. She told us
that she would be on standby and to call her when contractions were 5 minutes
apart. Our plan was to labor at home with her as long as possible and then
arrive at the hospital around 6 cm. To pass the time we distracted ourselves by
watching <i>Futurama </i>while I labored on a birth ball. When we grew tired of
that we went for a long walk in our new neighborhood and around noon I passed
my mucus plug. Labor was getting more intense! My husband called our doula and
she started to make the journey from Oakland to Daly City. On her way to us she
encountered heavy traffic. At this time my contractions were 12 minutes apart
so we decided to go ahead and meet at the hospital.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When we arrived the nurse
checked my progress; I was only dilated 4 cm. This was enough to keep me at the
hospital but I was disappointed we weren’t further along. To make matters
worse, once we arrived at the hospital my labor seemed to slow to a snail’s
pace. The nurses saw us settled into our room and basically left us to our own
devices. Every hour or so someone would come and check me. 4.5 cm. 5 cm. 6 cm.
6.5 cm. Around four a.m. I was exhausted and asked for an epidural. It took another
eight hours before I was completely dilated and ready to push. At this time I
met the doctor on call. She quickly realized my son was presenting in a
posterior position and before I even started pushing she mentioned that we
might need a csection. This was something I had not prepared myself for at all
and was sure we wouldn’t come to. I pushed for about an hour, during which my
son’s heart rate was decelerating and having difficulty recovering. I asked
several times for assistance getting into another position to see if that
would help the baby turn, but the doctor insisted that keeping me on my back
was best. Eventually she tried to manually turn the baby. When that did not
work she tried the vacuum. Both attempts at the vacuum failed. Finally, completely
exhausted and confused we were rushed to the operating room where my son was
delivered via csection.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Fortunately, I recovered
quickly from the surgery and had no issues with breastfeeding or bonding. My
shock and confusion related to why I had a csection was another story. At the
core of my being I knew that it wasn’t necessary and I felt like I had failed.
Failed to deliver my son naturally, failed to advocate for myself in the
hospital, and failed to prepare properly for birth. While I worked hard to bury
these feelings so they wouldn’t cloud my time as a new mom, my son wasn’t two
weeks old before I started researching VBAC (Vaginal Birth after Cesarean) and
HBAC (Home Birth after Cesarean). I was afraid to go to another hospital to
deliver again, and I became fond of telling people that the only way I would go
back was if I was being dragged by wild dogs.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Preparing for VBAC</span></b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Eighteen months after my
first birth I became pregnant again. Already resolved that this birth would be
different, I started reaching out to homebirth midwives in my area that had
experience with VBAC. Eventually I was led to Maria. By coincidence she had
also recently delivered our friends’ babies and came recommended by them.
Feeling confident in Maria's 30+ years of experience, all the stress and
anxiety surrounding being pregnant again dissolved. I never worried about
uterine rupture or other complications from VBAC. I just knew that if I labored
at home that I would be OK and so would the baby.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Fast forward a month
before my due date. My husband and I walked into Maria's office for what we
think is a normal prenatal appointment. Instead she sat us down and told us
that the previous week she attended a VBAC homebirth that ended in
complications for her patient. The experience, in combination with the recent
passing of stricter laws regarding homebirth in California, led to her decision
to stop attending VBACs at home. Because she had already agreed to attend our
birth she was willing to do so, but she encouraged us to choose another option
that she offered called labor management. Under this service she would act as
our doula, but also manage labor to make sure we did not go to the hospital too
soon. In addition, she recommended that we deliver at UCSF which is known for
its VBAC success rate and nursemidwife / doctor practice. She was certain we
could have a successful childbirth there.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Changing our birth plan
from a homebirth to a hospital birth was an incredibly difficult decision. I
was completely uncomfortable with the idea of going to a hospital to deliver.
Planning a homebirth meant I had been able to ignore my fear of the hospital
but now I was forced to face that fear head on. As I examined what was so
difficult about my first son’s birth I realized that it wasn’t the csection
itself that I struggled with, but the way in which the surgery happened. The
moment I chose to have an epidural the birth process was no longer something I
was in control of. It became managed by the doctors and nurses and I became
a patient and not a participant. This was partially due to the setting and
partially because I have never been a strong advocate for myself. The result
was an experience that resulted in a feeling of loss of control and
disempowerment that was still painful. Knowingly putting myself into that
position again was not something that I wanted to do. Planning to go to the
hospital started to feel as if I was losing control over the birth process
again.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> After a lot of discussion
with my husband and some incredible women that offered their counsel to me
during this time, we finally decided to take Maria's advice and switch gears to
plan a hospital birth. I made clear that my goal was an empowered birth and a
healthy baby. A successful VBAC was important to me, but more important was
understanding and control in the birth process. Maria agreed to be a strong
advocate for me and to do what she could to help me achieve my goals. As with
my first labor our goal was to remain at home as long as we could and spend as
little time as possible in the hospital. In order to prepare, I made a
conscious decision not to tour the hospital before labor and, unlike with my
first son, I decided to take two weeks off work prior to my due date in order
to "get my head in the game." I prepared our home for the baby, I
walked, and I rested.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lex’s Birth</span></b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">My entire pregnancy I
assumed the baby would come early like his big brother did, but this time my
due date came and went. Uncomfortable and ready for labor, I did everything I
could to induce labor naturally. I hiked up Bernal Hill and in Pacifica, I made
cookies rumored to be “labor inducing,” and I doused my scrambled eggs in
Tabasco. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, four days after my due date I woke up
with bloody show. Excited, I called Maria to let her know that I thought labor
was starting. My contractions were mild at this point so we planned to contact
her again when things became more regular. Even though I was told repeatedly
that second babies tend to come more quickly, I was preparing for a long labor.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It just so happened that
I was also scheduled for a nonstress test this day. Since my contractions were
stable and manageable I didn’t want to go into the hospital for the test,
concerned that the moment I did so labor would slow. In order to try and speed
things up, my husband and I decided to go on a walk and have breakfast at a
greasy spoon diner near our home. Thinking that this could be my last meal
before labor I went whole hog and ordered the largest pancake breakfast I could
find on the menu. As I was finishing my pancakes I called UCSF to cancel the
nonstress test. Instead of letting me cancel the nurses insisted we come in so
they could perform the ultrasound, confirm labor was in progress, and check
fetal positioning. We reluctantly went in for the test and, as I feared, labor
stopped during the car ride to the hospital. While I was disappointed that labor
had stopped, the ultrasound did give us some important information. Everything
was fine but the baby was facing posterior. Knowing that I was going into labor
with the same positioning that resulted in a csection the previous time was
empowering. I called Maria as I left the hospital to inform her of the
position. She ensured me not to worry as many babies turn during labor.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> At this point my husband
and I just waited. We napped, we ate, we walked. Later that evening my
contractions started again, mild, but regular. Friends called to ask if we were
at the hospital yet and each time we informed them that no, we were “shopping
at Home Depot” or “having sushi” or “walking.” Eventually we walked back home
to get some rest. That night I slept as much as I could and periodically woke
to more intense contractions.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The next morning my
contractions were still coming. Around 9 am Maria suggested she come over to
see how far along I was dilated. Her exam showed that I was between 34 cm but
that my cervix was still fairly closed. We decided to go for a walk and
purchase some castro oil. The plan was to take the castro oil if I wasn’t
progressing later in the day. My contractions remained steady but controllable
throughout the walk. In fact, I felt great. This was in sharp contrast to my
previous labor when I was in extreme pain and already at the hospital at the
same point. When we finished our walk Maria checked me again this time I was
at 5 cm and around 50% effaced. We decided to strip my membranes and see if that
would speed things up at all. Since I still felt like I was in control of
things and not ready to go to the hospital, Maria left to return to her office.
We planned to check back in after lunch and then meet at UCSF in a few hours or
when things became more intense.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> In order to kill some
time my husband and I decided to make a trip to see our now toddler. We sent
him to stay with a friend the day before when we thought labor was starting and
wanted to check in on him. After that visit we made a run to the grocery store
to purchase the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies and grab some lunch.
The entire time we were in Safeway my contractions were getting strong enough
that I was sure that the other shoppers were beginning to notice. Finally, I couldn’t
stand it any longer and suggested to my husband that we get home to time my
contractions as soon as the deli counter finished making our sandwiches.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Once home we noticed that
my contractions were consistently a minute and a half apart and lasting about
40 seconds. I still wanted to make the cookies, however, because even though
things were becoming more intense the pain was manageable and I felt
comfortable at home. Based on Maria’s suggestion, we called the labor and
delivery number at the hospital to let them know I was in labor and would be
coming in some time that day. When the nurse got on the phone I explained that
I was having my second child, a VBAC, 5 cm dilated and 50% effaced, had just
had my membranes stripped, and positive for GBS. I told her that I didn’t feel
I was ready to come in yet but that I just wanted to let them know to expect me
sometime that day. Surprised, she strongly encouraged me to come in. Her exact
words were something like “best of luck to you but I am recommending you get
here immediately.” Not wanting to completely ignore her advice, but trusting in
my assessment of where my labor was, I finished my lunch and then called Maria.
We decided to meet at the hospital and take a walk around one of the courtyards
until I felt like it was time to check in. The cookie ingredients were
forgotten on the kitchen counter and we headed to the hospital.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> After about an hour of
walking around the hospital courtyard Maria recommended that we go ahead and
check in to labor and delivery. Rather than going through emergency, we rode
the elevator up the 15 floors to the labor ward and strolled up to the front
desk. The closer we got to labor and delivery, the less intense my contractions
became. I knew that I would need to get settled into my room before I could
focus again. I was so calm the nurses at the front desk didn’t quite believe me
when I told them I was in labor and took their time getting us into a room.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Once we were settled in
our delivery room I was immediately handed a monitoring belt and a heavy
monitor. This I would have to wear my entire labor to keep track of the baby’s
heartrate. A heplock was inserted into my left hand and they begin
administering the antibiotics for the GBS. While I was able to walk around,
nothing about the hospital situation felt “natural.” Rather, the entire
situation began to feel like a cascade of interventions. I remember sitting on
a birth ball, looking out the window of our room over the city of San Francisco
and doing everything I could to keep from crying. She must have realized I was
about to lose control because at this point Maria took my hands and told me to
think of each contraction as WORK. “Don’t fight them, work with them.”</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Around this time the nurse
midwife on duty at the hospital came to introduce herself to me and check to
see how far I had progressed. While I was still at 5 cm I was now 95% effaced.
Things were picking up!</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">While we were getting
settled, several of the doctors and nurses on duty came in to wish us well and
let us know that "Colleen told them to take great care of us."
Colleen is a friend of ours that happens to be a resident at UCSF. After my
husband texted her that the baby was coming she sent out a mass message to her
colleagues at the hospital. This was all in sharp contrast to our last birth
where we were basically left alone with our doula to labor. Already, my
experience at UCSF was beginning to feel different and I was able to calm down.
With each contraction my anxiety dissipated. I forgot about the monitor and the
IV and turned my attention to the business of laboring.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We weren’t at the
hospital long before my water broke. Things really started to pick up and as
each contraction became more intense I continued to work with them. I labored
standing up, on the toilet, on a birth ball, squatting on the bed moving to
any position that felt like it was working to progress labor. Eventually I
could not get comfortable. I remember holding on to the back of the bed in a
squatting position, moaning intensely as a doctor came in to check me. I could
hear him telling the nurse that I was at 8 cm. At this point people were coming
in and out of our room on a regular basis but all I could do was focus on
labor. My husband and Maria moved me into the shower but I wasn’t there long
before I started to feel the urge to push. I was quickly helped back to the bed
and checked again. This time I was fully dilated and already pushing with each
contraction. As the hospital staff worked to get ready I struggled to find a
comfortable position on the bed. Everything hurt. My legs were shaking
uncontrollably. My back was killing me.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> As the nurse and my
husband helped shift me on the bed to begin pushing there was a staff change.
Ingrid, the kind and gentle nurse that had been helping to coach me was
replaced by Vanissa. Unlike Ingrid, Vanissa was a drill sergeant. She
immediately had my legs up against the birthing bar. With each contraction she
coached me to hold my breath and push. To pull forward as if in a crunch and
push. To keep my legs up and PUSH. Each time she told me what to do I thought
about how much I hated her advice. Couldn’t she see how hard I was trying? I
could barely hold my legs up. I started crying and begging for someone to help
me with my legs. My husband and Maria each took a leg for support but it didn’t
seem to be working.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Suddenly the atmosphere in the birthing room changed. There seemed to
be more and more people in the room and Vanissa kept mentioning that the baby’s
heartrate was experiencing decelerations the reason for my first csection. I
kept my eyes closed and did my best to only hear the words of encouragement
that were being spoken by the people in my room. I heard my husband telling me
“This is it! You’re doing great.” Maria telling me “That’s it Vanessa, we can
see his head.” The doctors murmuring words of support from the direction of my
feet. With each push when my son still didn’t come I started to imagine that at
any moment I was going to be put to sleep and wheeled into surgery. Every push
was more painful than anything I had imagined and I just wanted it to be over.
Finally, I felt release and heard my husband say “You did it!” In shock, I felt
my son between my legs but didn’t quite believe it was over. I could only think
to mutter, “Holy shit, I did it.” Unlike my first son’s birth, no tears came
this time. I just felt an immense relief. Relief that I didn’t have to have
surgery and relief that it was done. All the planning, all my anxiety, all the
worry was finished. We did it. I did it. My son did it. He was born in exactly
the way I had hoped and face down exactly like he should have been. 8 lbs and
21 inches. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="column">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zP4U-izACyM/VJTNOjRotdI/AAAAAAAACNE/A-kC-HclIvI/s1600/IMG_20141129_164826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #b6d7a8; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zP4U-izACyM/VJTNOjRotdI/AAAAAAAACNE/A-kC-HclIvI/s1600/IMG_20141129_164826.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-54949996652392312812014-12-11T08:41:00.005-08:002014-12-11T08:57:16.893-08:00Birth Story : Cole Alexander Monsees<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3_mPpD10ROw/VInIy-NU8pI/AAAAAAAACK4/ZRoAYB6w9Gw/s1600/IMG_4253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3_mPpD10ROw/VInIy-NU8pI/AAAAAAAACK4/ZRoAYB6w9Gw/s1600/IMG_4253.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1418315347212_10623" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">On the Saturday morning of
November 1, 2014, at 9:13 am, we welcomed little 7 lb. 10 oz. 19" long
Cole Alexander Monsees into the world! </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The previous night was
Halloween, and Dave and I decided to take a longer evening walk to enjoy the
Halloween festivities on 24th street in Noe Valley. We rummaged through
our box of Halloween costumes and knick-knacks to get into the spirit. We
kept it simple - Dave wore Groucho glasses, Winston our Maltese had on his plaid
bowtie collar, and I safety-pinned a severed doll arm holding a pumpkin candy
basket onto my then fully-blossomed belly (a recycled costume worn by a friend
last Halloween when she was pregnant with her little guy). My costume was
by lengths a success amongst many kids and adults that caught sight of the baby
crawling out of my tummy to go trick-or-treating. Little did I know that
this costume was to foreshadow what was to happen early the next morning!</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EiLUlXoWzXw/VInMgEaAfaI/AAAAAAAACME/e0-OqrDa6AY/s1600/IMG_20141031_183124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EiLUlXoWzXw/VInMgEaAfaI/AAAAAAAACME/e0-OqrDa6AY/s1600/IMG_20141031_183124.jpg" height="236" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In the early morning hours
of Nov 1st, at around 3AM, I awoke, as typical, to relieve my tiny, compressed
bladder. Upon returning to bed, I began to have light cramping - similar
to the discomfort of the 1st day of my period. It was an unusual but
familiar feeling (as I hadn’t felt that in 9 long months!), but I did not think
much of it and tried to go back to sleep. By 3:30AM, the cramps felt a
little more intense, so I went to the restroom again and after wiping noticed
pink discharge on the toilet paper. I remember thinking - <i>well, my
mucus plug is still M.I.A., so perhaps it will show soon or this is just my
body slowly preparing itself for labor in the coming weeks</i>. I crawled
back into bed to try and close my eyes, but the cramps continued to
intensify. By about 4AM, I decided to wake up Dave and told him what I
was feeling and seeing, and all the while, the cramps continued to become more
and more painful.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">My recollection of what
comes next is a bit blurred as my body continued to turn up the intensity and
my mind began to focus more and more inward, but I remember needing to move
from the bed to the living room and sitting on the couch leaning my arms
against the backrest. Dave in the meantime had quickly downloaded an app
on the tablet to record my contractions. As the minutes passed, I
remember it was becoming harder and harder for me to communicate through the
rushes and I began out of necessity to moan through exhalations to release the
tension emanating from my lower abdomen. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">According to Dave, by
5:45AM, we decided that this was in fact labor, and paged Maria -- contractions
were 7 mins apart and a hard 1 min 20 sec long. I was not in a mindset to
process how long my contractions were, what that meant, or even the concept of
time for that matter (!), so I recall in those moments thinking it was too
early to call Maria - that I didn’t want to inconvenience her with what was
probably nothing or just early labor.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Dave continued to monitor
my contractions - my uterus decided to pick up the pace and contractions
quickly accelerated to 3 min 30 sec apart. By this point, there didn’t
feel like there was a moment to catch my breath. The best I could do was
pace circles around the kitchen island and fight the surges standing up -
hopefully finding a surface to lean on when my surges peaked. In my head,
I was trying to remind myself to <i>live in the moment</i>, but in reality, I
was anticipating the next surge and how much more painful the next one would be.
As the contractions got more intense with fewer breaks in between, I clearly
remember thinking, <i>if this is what it’s going to feel like for the next
36-48 hours, I don’t think I’m going to make it!</i> </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Eventually, maybe because
I could not find a comfortable position or thought of the women we saw in
videos during our homebirth class that labored in the bathroom, I moved onto
the toilet. Here I stayed with pillows and towels at my feet (along with
Winston and Dave) to labor. After some strong surges, I felt something
hanging out of my vagina. I somehow verbalized this to Dave, who got a
flashlight to look and thought it was some part of the baby’s body, but that it
was too small to be the head. In that moment, he nervously considered the
scenario that he’d have to deliver the baby himself!</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">At around 7:30AM, Maria
arrived - I was still laboring on the toilet at that time and had by that point
given in to the urge to push (which did feel like a vomit reflex...just from
the opposite end!). Maria examined me and was amazed to see that what was
hanging out of me was the amniotic sac, or balloon, as the sac had not
ruptured, and also determined that I was already at 10cm!</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sue Baelen (our assisting
midwife) arrived shortly thereafter, and both Maria and Sue thought I would
make better progress by moving to the bed. When it was suggested I move
to the bed, I remember thinking <i>impossible!</i> and that was like someone
asking me to climb Mt. Everest. I somehow managed to make it onto the
bed, but after an hour on hands and knees on a soft memory foam top bed (not
optimal folks for hands and knees!) and little progress, I became exhausted.<i>
</i>Maria recommended that I try flipping over onto my back with Dave
sitting behind me so that I could lean into his torso. There, he could
support me and help me hold my legs back to rotate my pelvis up while
pushing. What helped tremendously was having Maria focus my pushes
towards the back of my vagina where she was applying pressure. This
worked well and and after a few more pushes, you could see Cole’s hair behind
the amniotic balloon. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">During this time, Maria
repeatedly told me to open my eyes - to re-focus but also to see the head
starting to crown in the mirror. I kept my eyes shut tightly - maybe
because I didn’t want a visual for the pain I was experiencing, maybe because I
was trying to escape. Instead, she asked that I reach down and feel the
head emerging. I did - and I thought, <i>wow really? I’m already
this close now? </i>The sensation of a baby that far in the birth canal
was not what I expected - yes the surges were painful, but the fact that the
baby’s head was sitting in my pelvis about ready to be born surprisingly was
not intense. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Oh but the so-called Ring
of Fire - yes I felt that indeed! My encounter with the Ring of Fire was
acknowledgement of it, and then <i>damn it, just push past it!</i> And
voila - the head was out. The balloon finally opened and Maria reached in
to unloop the cord from around Cole’s neck (my cord apparently was quite long)
-- she said he came out with his eyes wide open. By this point, the
surges were becoming less intense - I wasn’t sure I was ready to push the body
out, but Maria gave me one last round of encouragement and the next thing I
know (after about an hour of pushing on my back), Maria tells Dave and I to
reach down and catch our baby! We reach down and pulled a crying Cole
onto my chest. He was big, pink, and full of life. Dave admitted
there were tears. I honestly cannot recall what thoughts flooded my head
at that moment, but I was certainly awe-struck...in awe of Cole, in awe of what
my body just did, in awe of Dave, in awe of Maria and Sue, all the while
thinking, <i>this is it!</i> </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AhE_ycxRMrY/VInMdrGC8-I/AAAAAAAACL8/FCmsxzBnyxM/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AhE_ycxRMrY/VInMdrGC8-I/AAAAAAAACL8/FCmsxzBnyxM/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EiLUlXoWzXw/VInMgEaAfaI/AAAAAAAACME/e0-OqrDa6AY/s1600/IMG_20141031_183124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It’s humorous to note that
Winston our dog sat quietly on the bed next to us - literally a foot away from
all the action. Either he knew exactly what was going on or was wondering
why the hell everyone was making so much noise!</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We let the cord pulse out
for a few minutes, and the placenta delivered quickly thereafter. I
received stitches from Maria for a labia tear - luckily, we later learned from
another midwife Ami that Maria is the best embroiderer around! </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The only other big
challenge after that was peeing. After a few tries that morning, and
concern about swelling near my stitches, Maria inserted a catheter and was able
to drain an incredible 2 liters of urine from my bladder - a record according
to Maria! </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">By 12:15PM our new family
was alone. After only 6 hours of (intense) labor, and a week and a half
early, it was hard to believe what just happened. To capture some of the
sentiments from Dave’s own written account of the birth - <i>having only known
him for less than 36 hours, I can tell that little Cole is an amazing guy. And
after watching Judy bring our baby into the world in such a brave and focused
fashion, I can't imagine myself ever being prouder.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">And now after 3.5 weeks of
living our lives with Cole, I can also say that I can’t imagine myself ever
being more proud of our new little family.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TrNUkA9Vsqo/VInIzu8CLwI/AAAAAAAACK8/0KbuET64HXk/s1600/IMG_4268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TrNUkA9Vsqo/VInIzu8CLwI/AAAAAAAACK8/0KbuET64HXk/s1600/IMG_4268.JPG" height="320" width="250" /></a></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-58113244847331777922014-09-02T09:38:00.003-07:002014-09-02T09:38:38.211-07:00Mel's Birth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTckeUPfoh0/VAXxyNMZAsI/AAAAAAAACHc/fdRWVlCkKz8/s1600/JLbirth3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTckeUPfoh0/VAXxyNMZAsI/AAAAAAAACHc/fdRWVlCkKz8/s1600/JLbirth3.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">July 13, 2014</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-3a80feb6-3734-35ee-b882-b229f00fd8da" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Baby Mel arrived very slowly and all at once. I spent the pregnancy feeling that he would be born between 38 and 39 weeks. This was my third pregnancy, and my first and second sons came at 40 and 38 weeks, respectively. It seemed natural to me that the third baby would follow suit. I stopped working at 36 weeks, and started diligently preparing for our 38+ week birth. In the middle of gathering supplies, my husband, Ben looked at the “birth sheets” and said, “maybe the baby is coming late.” Very briefly, I considered this thought, and then dismissed it. Late? Was he kidding?</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the first few weeks of maternity leave, I was very happy. I worked really hard during the pregnancy, and I was so glad to have a chance to catch my breathe. In addition to my biological sons, I have two stepsons; our household already hums with activity. Maternity leave gave me more time for everyone, including myself. I cooked, picked up the kids from school, exercised every day, and had an extra date-night with Ben. Through week 38, I secretly felt twinges of sadness about the baby arriving, knowing that my “extra” time would evaporate. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Week 39 arrived, and I started to get really uncomfortable. Ben liked saying that I was graceful while pregnant, but grace departed at 39 weeks. To distract myself, I baked bread, sewed a blanket, and watched a long, BBC mini-series. I theorized that I could “trick” myself into having the baby: “If I’m really into my projects, I won’t think about when the baby is coming, and therefore, the baby will come.” </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Week 40 arrived, and I moved from uncomfortable to irritable. I picked fights with everyone in the family, went to acupuncture a lot, walked up steep hills, slept poorly and generally felt miserable. Throughout the week, I was slowly dilating. For a few hours every day, I had regular, painful contractions that never crossed the threshold into active labor. I was 4 cm dilated, and I was still baking bread and sewing. Every night, one of our sons went to bed saying, “I wonder if tonight is the night.” Our whole family was waiting.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Week 41 began, and Mel officially took the award for longest gestation in the family. I started to consider that our home-birth plan was not to be; I worried about all the ways and days we could induce. I’m a ob-gyn nurse-practitioner. Standard hospital practice is to induce at 41+ weeks -- I can quote the studies that serve as the rationalization for this practice -- and I knew that my friends and colleagues at work would want me to come in for an induction, once I hit the 41 week mark. It was hard for me to have this information, and to stay confident about the low overall rate of complications, up to 42 weeks. I started to have little self talks with scripts like, “everything is okay; the baby is healthy and strong. You’re healthy and strong. You have a good plan. You can trust it.” I’d like to say that these mantras were very reassuring, but I think they just kept me from teetering over the hospital edge. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mel is the baby that we didn’t think we were having; he wasn’t just late to arrive, he arrived late in our lives. Our kids were 18, 15, 10 and 7 when the little pink cross showed up on the pregnancy test strip, last October. In my previous pregnancies, I briefly considered home-birth, but I didn’t let myself pursue it because I was scared that my colleagues would say I was crazy, and my family would be doubtful and worried. This pregnancy felt like a mysterious gift -- like running to catch the train as it’s pulling out of the station, and somehow managing to jump aboard, just as the doors swing shut. The mystery of this unexpected pregnancy gave me the chance to dream. I finally let myself imagine the birth that I had always wanted. In my dream birth, Maria was there! The sheets smelled like me. The room was quiet. In the dream birth, there was no drive home, after the baby was born because we were already home. In the dream birth, I didn’t want to act from fear. Ben was 100% on board, and that helped me tremendously. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As 41 weeks was coming to a close, Maria helped Ben and me make our pre-induction plan. We decided to try doubling the dose of castor oil (I had already tried a 2 oz dose earlier in the week), and to add herbal tinctures. Maria brought over the herbs at dinner time and gave us big hugs before heading out to some square dancing. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took the castor oil at about 8 pm. An hour later, I was sitting on the couch, and I realized that Ben was going to have to put the kids to bed without my help; I was so nauseous and disgusted from the taste of the castor oil, and my full attention was needed to cope with the sensation. As I sat on the couch, I blessed the baby with the same blessing that I give the kids on Friday evenings for Shabbat: “may you be who you are, and may you be all that you are.” This was different from wishing the baby would come, or trying to trick the baby into coming, or worrying that the baby wasn’t coming. I was burping castor oil and my intestines were beginning to storm, but I was at peace.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think I sat on the couch for about an hour: it took quite a bit of concentration to cope with the sensation of the castor oil in my throat and stomach. At 11 pm or so, I decided to go to bed. By the time I moved from the couch to the bedroom, sleeping seemed unlikely. Instead, I started contracting and pooping, at the same time. I was moving from the toilet to hands and knees, then back to the toilet. I called Ben to say that I thought he should blow up this exercise ball that I was planning to use during early-mid labor. Suddenly, the idea of bouncing on a ball seemed very funny, possibly because I knew it was never going to happen -- I was laughing, crying, pooping, burping, and contracting all at once. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At around 1 am, everything quieted down, and I got into bed. I was a little confused. What was happening? Was I in labor, or had I just been contracting so strongly while I was emptying my bowels? Ben asked if we should start the herbs, and I told him I couldn’t. I was still so nauseous from the castor oil, and I couldn’t imagine putting anything in my mouth. Ben got in the shower, and I took the chance to rest, wondering whether or not I’d wake in the morning, still pregnant. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometime between the start and finish of Ben’s shower, my questions were answered: this was labor. The sensation was familiar from my past births. I was entering the waves. I moved out of bed and went to the other bathroom, which has a bathtub. When Ben found me, I was moaning on the toilet, unable to complete full sentences. I think he said, “what’s happening?” And I think I said, “call Maria.” </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got in the tub on hands and knees and turned on the water. I needed to lean against Ben during the contractions, and so he sat on the toilet, while I gave him my full weight and made low pitched animal noises. Between contractions, I moaned while the water hit my back. The contractions were incredible, and I remember thinking, “I must have missed the beginning and middle of this labor; I’m already in transition.” My whole body was inside the wave. When I felt that the pain was intolerable, I visualized the baby descending, and I told myself, “you have to feel this way to birth the baby. You are birthing the baby.” </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maria and Kristen arrived at 2:15 am. I could hear them setting up supplies, and I felt relief. Ben did, too. I could feel his body relax, once they arrived. At 2:45 am, Maria asked me if I was having any low pressure. I said, “yes” and she suggested that I get out of the tub and go back to the bedroom. She wanted to do a cervical check. I knew that I was completely dilated because I was already starting to push, but I was so inwardly focused that it felt impossible to explain. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It still seems like a minor miracle to me that I was able to move from the bathtub to the bed, but I guess we did it between contractions. As we arrived in the bedroom, I realized that there hadn’t been time to put the “birth sheets” on the bed, and Kristen was quickly doing the job. I think Maria or she suggested that Ben help, when suddenly another wave hit, and I called out for him. I remember kneeling on the floor, supported by Ben, and Maria saying to him, “you just stay there.” She knew he couldn’t assist with the sheets because he was being my rock. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once on the bed, Maria checked me and said, “there’s no more cervix. You can push, whenever you want.” I remember saying, “I don’t know how to push,” which is interesting because I think I’d already been pushing for several contractions. I think maybe I had pushing performance anxiety -- I had to tell everyone that I wasn’t sure I would push well. Suddenly, I was sort of squatting with Maria and Kristen behind me and Ben holding my weight in front. I pushed through two or three contractions, and I could feel the baby’s head crowning. I let out a very loud, high sound which woke the older boys. The next moment, I could feel the head was out. I gave another slow, long push and felt the rest of his body slide out. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At 3:04 am, Maria said, “your baby is here!” I held him, and couldn’t believe that he was our baby. My first thought was, “this is our baby?!” The older boys came bursting into the bedroom to see if it was true, and somehow they made it real to me -- yes, this is our baby. Mel was born with dry, peeling skin, weighing 7 lb, 7 oz. He looked like a baby who waited 2 weeks after his due date to arrive. Maybe he needed the extra time inside to gain weight. Maybe not. Who knows? The wait was a lesson in patience, faith, and the power of the unknown.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This may sound strange, but one of the most meaningful parts of our birth is what happened right after Maria placed him in my arms: I started to have a pretty good hemorrhage. Maria once told me that going to Haiti always reminds her that midwifery is first and foremost about saving women’s lives. My hemorrhage showed me a window into this truth. It gave me a chance to be the recipient of the most professional, competent, and personalized care. I knew I was bleeding quite a bit, and I wasn’t scared: I was in good hands, and I felt safe. Maria and Kristen -- two incredible midwives -- circled around us, as we held our baby, and they kept us safe by knowing just what to do, and by doing it with love. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once my bleeding was under good control, and we’d done a newborn exam, Maria and Kristen tucked us in for a nap. It was about 5:00 am. A few hours later, the day would begin, but for a little while, everyone in the house went back to bed, and it felt like the whole world was at peace. </span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-56072091669497292952014-08-03T07:28:00.000-07:002014-08-03T09:01:16.487-07:00Pasquale Daniel Iorillo, Sr. 1937-2014<style>
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<br />
24 hours into my summer vacation in New York, my father
died.</div>
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For the last week, my life has been steeped in old
photographs, Italian food and the rituals of death. My father’s health had been
on the decline for nearly a decade. We always joked that he seemed to have 9
lives, as modern medicine would continually prop him up, seemingly against all
odds. But, on July 23<sup>rd</sup>, he closed his eyes for the last time. We
are so grateful that it was a peaceful passing. During that day, my mom and dad
where up in the country where we have a country house. Upstate for New Yorkers
usually means anything north of the Bronx, but our country house is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> upstate – the Catskills: rural,
quiet, green. My mother and father went to an art show of my sister’s, went out
to lunch, had ice cream. Back at the house, they entertained the neighbors
around 7:30pm. Around 8, my father got up to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t
return, my mother got up and went looking for him. She found him in a
comfortable chair, looking like he was sleeping. When he wouldn’t rouse, deep
in her heart of hearts, my mother knew he was gone. She called the EMT neighbor
back to the house, she called 911, but she knew he was already gone.</div>
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He really did just look like he was sleeping. My mom thinks
that he just sat down for the last time and his heart stopped. I believe it. My
Dad was so strong-willed that, I think, he powered through his last day even
though he was having trouble breathing. He felt comfortable and safe with only
my mom there. I know that if any of his kids (or forget his grandkids) were
there, he would have put up a fight, such was his love and dedication to us.
But, it was his time and he was ready. So, with just my mom, he went
peacefully, without fear or a struggle. He simply sat down and ended his day
for the last time. At his wake, I kept telling people that he got his money’s
worth out of Wednesday.</div>
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My Dad was a character— an old, Italian man who was born in
the house that he lived in all his life. His family settled a small corner of
Rye, NY, as immigrant laborers in the early 1900s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew up knowing the stories of my grandmother’s tomato
gardens, and how they used to make tomato paste by drying tomato halves in the
sun on a piece of plywood. My father would come along as a kid and run his
finger through the sun-dried paste. Whenever my Dad would tell me that story,
he would lift his finger up and I could tell that he could almost taste the
fresh tomatoes on his tongue.</div>
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My Dad was a musician. His brother, Sonny, played the accordion
and his mother would sing old, Italian songs when they had backyard barbecues
for the whole neighborhood. My father learned to play the bass when he was
around 14 so that he could go out with his brother on gigs to the Rye country
clubs and make extra money. He loved the bass his whole life and played in a
performance 2 weeks before he died.</div>
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My Dad was an amazing father. I was his favorite of the 4
siblings. But, the funny thing is, we each were his favorite— my brother
because he is the firstborn and his namesake; my sister, LuAnn, because she is
creative and sensitive, always trying to get out from her older sister’s shadow
(that’s me, of course); my youngest sister, Laura, had to do double duty to
compete with me for the coveted position of “My Father’s Favorite.” She trumped
me when she moved 2 houses down and gave him 4 beautiful grandsons. Each
pregnancy kept my father alive for 9 more months. He had the capacity to make
us all feel special, as if we were the only one, as if we were the favorite
(but really — I am!)</div>
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I know I am the favorite because when I was born, I weighed
only 4 pounds 10 ounces. In those days, if you were under 5 and a half pounds,
you needed to stay in an incubator. Thus, I was in the hospital for 2 weeks,
behind the glass of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the 1963 nursery.
Like clockwork, my father came to visit me every day. And when I finally was
allowed to leave, my father gave all the babies in the nursery with me a pair
of knitted booties that his mother had made while I was there. </div>
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My father loved that I am a midwife, such an old-school
profession that he could really relate to. He would always ask me how many
births I had attended. I would try to keep track of the numbers so that I could
answer him accurately. I can still hear his voice bragging to his friends (or
anyone he would meet, for that matter) that I had been to over a 1000 births. I
became the daughter from California who has been to 1000 births. At his wake,
countless people, as they would make their way to me on the receiving line,
would brighten with recognition when I would introduce myself as his eldest
daughter. “Oh! You’re the one from California! You’re the midwife!”</div>
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My father’s wake (Monday the 28<sup>th</sup>) was attended
by hundreds of neighbors, friends and musicians. It was a ritual that blanketed
my loss in the richness of community, tradition and culture. I, having only
attended one other open casket event when I was 11, was impressed with how
everyone knew the drill. The community that my father created arrived in
droves. The line wrapped around the funeral home and out the door for hours. Paying
respects is a well-worn groove in the Italian pattern of life. People waited
patiently to speak with my mother and each one of my siblings and myself. We
laughed and told stories about my father; I introduced myself a million times.
You see, my father was also a jokester. He always made people laugh and I heard
this over and over again as his friends introduced themselves to me. My father
had shtick — slapstick, embarrass-your-children shtick. Like his oversized,
circus clown sunglasses or his sunglasses that had just one lens — that was for
days that were partly sunny. Over and over again. And people loved him for it.
His children would just cringe. But on Monday, it was a way to remember him, to
celebrate his life with laughter instead of tears. Even the Mayor of Rye (if
you’ve never heard of Rye, think Pawnee) stood on line for an hour to pay his
last respects. My father would have LOVED that!</div>
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The pomp and circumstance around his funeral included a
Catholic mass, his 5 oldest grandchildren were his pall bearers (this included
Tyler and Viola), a 9-motorcycle, police escort from the church to the
cemetery, a local fire truck parked in front of the church while a kilted cop
played the bag pipes, and a Navy color guard at the grave site. My
father-in-law, Walter, says that all of this is highly unusual. Knowing my
father, he would have loved it all. We loved it because it reminded us of him.
Through it all, trays of meatballs and pasta would arrive at the door just when
we were getting hungry. </div>
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Through this rich and powerful sorrow, I have mostly felt
gratitude. Of course, I was shocked in the beginning, but as the story of his
death developed into a story to share, it all made sense. My father and mother
had a good day, all his children were “home,” even his credit cards were paid
off. He had completed a wonderful life.</div>
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On the day that my father died, my mother and father saw
more animals up in the country than they had seen in years. Two wild turkeys
with 12 chicks wandered around the backyard, a deer with her twin fawns nursed
about 20 yards off our back porch. While they were driving home, a black bear
crossed the road.</div>
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I believe that these animals carried the spirits of my
father’s ancestors on their backs. They appeared to him to comfort him, to let
him know that the time was near, to be ready. I believe that, at the end of
July 23<sup>rd</sup>, they returned to him in his eternal sleep and escorted
him to a better place. A place where he inhabits his younger body. A place
where he can visit his parents and siblings. If there is a heaven, my father is
there, having a ball, telling everyone there how proud he is of me.</div>
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Gratitude for a life well lived, gratitude for a perfect
ending. Gratitude for a community guiding us through this time, and for my
father’s wisdom to show me how to build community for myself. But most of all,
gratitude for the gift of knowing that I. Was. His. Favorite.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-25154450138608913872014-07-03T11:44:00.003-07:002014-07-03T11:44:41.335-07:00Baby E arrives!Baby E is fed and sleeping so this is my moment to write his birth
story! He’s in his newly-set-up rocker, with a gorgeous hand-knit
blanket that just arrived from my sister D, and if he wakes I’m going to
try gently rocking him with my toe while I keep writing, as I read that
Louis Erdrich does–she says it’s pretty easy to have a newborn as a
writer. We shall see…<br />
Eight days have now passed since the birth and I want to get this
down asap–we’ll think of it as the stream-of-consciousness Blog Edition,
and I will refine and perfect it later for Baby E’s consumption later
in life.<br />
So, let’s begin where I left off–last Saturday, when we were
preparing to check in to UCSF. All homey methods of labor induction
(acupuncture, walking, spicy food, castor oil) seemed to have no
effect–I had no signs of labor at all. The delay in our check-in time to
the hospital from 8am to noon to 8pm helped me make the transition
mentally to preparing for this new scenario in the hospital. I felt
oddly calm, and focused on the benefits of being in the
hospital–sometimes all that monitoring and state-of-the-art medicine can
come in handy.<br />
I had spoken with my midwife the night before and she walked me
through what to expect with induced labor. I would go through a first
step of medication (Misoprostyl or Cervidyl) to soften and prepare my
cervix. This would take 12-24 hours. Once ready, they would start the
Pitocin.<br />
So, we were glad to start in the evening because we could knock out
those first 12 hours while sleeping. Still, we packed books and Scrabble
and all of our electronics thinking we’d get off to a slow start.<br />
We were admitted at 8pm. It was much calmer on a Saturday night than
during a weekday when I had been there for non-stress tests. We were
shown to our room which had a partial view of the city at dusk.<br />
I filled out a bunch of paperwork, including papers for the baby on
which I was the signatory “parent” (gasp!), and decided to start with
Cervidyl, which they described as like a tampon they would stick in and
then wait. OK. They checked me at this point and I was less than 1
centimeter dilated, just the width of a fingertip. I called Em, my
midwife, and she said to get some rest–we had a lot of work to do the
next day.<br />
(E’s eyes just opened but he looks pretty happy. Trying the Louise Erdrich toe-rocking method. Easy.)<br />
I felt some cramping as I went to sleep, and proceeded to get up
probably once an hour to use the bathroom. My mom slept soundly on the
pull-out chair/cot. The clock on the wall proceeded onward. Everything
was quiet.<br />
At 5am, (uh oh–red-faced crying baby…one diaper change later and he
is now on the boob. This is a little awkward but doable, Louise.) I was
uncomfortable enough that I could no longer stay in bed, although I was
hesitant to say what was happening since I’d been maybe feeling
contraction-ish twinges for like two weeks and nothing ever turned out
to be anything. Soon, though, the nurse came back in and said, “It looks
like you’re having some contractions.”<br />
In fact, she determined that I was going into labor without Pitocin.
Huge victory at this point–of course, my fear was that Pitocin-induced
contractions would be way too strong and start the inevitable spiral of
hospital interventions… and I seemingly had kicked off labor without
it.<br />
I texted my doula and she said she was on her way. We were moved into
Labor Room 5, a huge corner room facing the entire skyline, East Bay,
and the trees of Mt. Sutro. One of the last things I did before things
really got going was to take this picture of the sunrise and text it to
my sister D in Chicago:<br />
<a href="https://thesolomamaproject.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/labor-room-5.jpg"><img alt="labor room 5" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-5504" src="https://thesolomamaproject.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/labor-room-5.jpg?w=490" /></a><br />
<br />
We set up the birth shrine, covered the TV with a sheet. My doula
arrived at 6:45am with soup to put in the refrigerator, a sitz bath tea,
and a necklace for me that she got 15 years ago in Benin. She told me
to set my intention on the necklace (“healthy mom and baby”). I feel
like I was in ‘serious’ labor pretty quickly, although throughout the
day was confused about the definitions of “early” and “active” labor
(and active labor turned out to be much later)–very soon I stationed
myself on a birth ball and was vocalizing through contractions.<br />
My dad and sister showed up for a bit, which was nice. By the time
they left, I was entering the naked phase which lasted the whole rest of
the birth process–the only thing I wore was this halter top of rough
fabric that held two circular monitors, one for the baby’s heartbeat and
one for contractions. It was the nurses’ primary obsession to keep
these circles in place, through many baths and position changes and
moving around the room, which annoyed me, but also reassured me that we
knew all was well with the baby. (Baby is now back in the rocker and I’m
rocking it with my toe again. He’s moving his arms around–and his eyes
are open. This writing may not last long as my mom is on a walk…)<br />
Those early hours of labor are a blur…I think it was pretty doable,
but felt like real work. I was being told all day that I was progressing
steadily so I just progressed steadily. We did the birth ball, hands
and knees, child’s pose, the bath. (Just did the 5 S’s of the Happiest
Baby on the Block and now he’s swaddled and sleeping again. Man, I
picked his fussier time of day to write but I’ll keep going.)<br />
It’s hard to say how I “felt” through these hours–I was just “in it.”
I was very present and my body felt strong. It felt intense from the
beginning, although you never know how much more intense it’s going to
get. They asked me if I wanted to be checked but said they didn’t feel
it was necessary since my contractions were obviously progressing, and I
said no thanks.<br />
Coincidentally, my good friend M had gone into labor at the same
time, and because she had also engaged the services of both my midwife
AND doula, it was quickly determined that since I was already in the
hospital and she’d be starting at home, she’d get the midwife and I’d
keep the doula. Since I was already in labor when I heard this, I just
accepted it and moved on–I was so happy to have my doula and my mom and
the kind nurses. I knew M needed Em.<br />
In other coincidences, my doula had a THIRD client go into labor and
check into the room next to mine. Because this client was 22 years old,
she was in and out in like 5 hours, so this was hardly a blip on my
screen–my doula left for 30 mins for the birth and then she was back.
Around 5pm, my doula’s backup came by, and when she came in the room, I
noticed that I was able to have a whole cheerful conversation with her.
Which I wouldn’t have been able to do in any of the previous hours.
Which seemed not good.<br />
I’d been throwing up multiple times and they had finally given me
fluids and anti-nausea medication–I kept saying I felt so much better
and chalked it up to that. But it wasn’t that.<br />
It was clear things were slowing down as we approached 12 hours. My
doula suggested we dance to move around and get things flowing again. I
suggested the song “Happy,” knowing that this song should totally piss
me off in labor–yet, there I was dancing through the whole song and not
having any contractions. And it wasn’t pissing me off.<br />
A doctor came in the room to say that my contractions were slowing
down and we should talk about “augmentation.” Oh god, I thought, here we
go. I had thought I was out of the woods and nope. I asked to call my
midwife and had a whole phone call with her without contractions. She
said I could go one of two ways–if I felt my body needed to rest, I
could take a break, rest, see if my labor started back up on its own.
I’d need strength for the pushing phase. On the other hand, I was
already 12 hours in and in the hospital; if I felt strong enough, I
could use a tool the hospital offered: Pitocin. They’d start me off
super gradually and maybe I could just pick up where I left off and keep
going. I wouldn’t lose any of the progress I’d made. They checked me
and I told them I didn’t want to know how many centimeters. I now know
that I was 4 cm and 70% effaced at 6:35pm. I had asked the doctor to
consult with my doula and my doula would ‘translate.’ I didn’t want to
feel the discouragement of the number after so many hours of hard work.
Ultimately, the doctor wasn’t happy about not consulting directly with
the patient, and my doula didn’t like having information that I didn’t
have. (After that, I let them tell me the number.)<br />
I told Em on the phone that while I did feel sleepy, my body felt
strong. I wanted to keep going. They started the Pitocin. And, sure
enough, within an hour, my contractions were back to what they were and
the show was back on the road. (Baby E is gumming his swaddle and making
complainy noises. He started crying and his Mimi picked him up and took
him into the other room.)<br />
Then we started the long night of gradual gradual progress–by 10:40pm
I was 5 cm and 80% effaced. I asked to be catheterized because I’d been
drinking all day and could never pee–they first said no, you’re just
dehydrated. But I insisted and they got 1.5 LITERS of urine! And I had
to be catheterized a few more times through the night.<br />
To try to get things going faster, they turned up my Pitocin a bit
and broke my bag of waters with what looked like a crochet hook. It made
me a little sad that it didn’t break on its own but I quickly moved
on–a small sacrifice.<br />
I kept going and kept going, the contractions getting really intense.
The best way to get a mini-break was to get in the warm bath, so I did
that many times. My doula was so present, her big blue eyes right there
when I looked up. She helped me dive under the waves, connect with my
baby, told me over and over that I can do this. My mom was a total rock,
even as my suffering intensified. (Right now she is dancing the cha-cha
with Baby E.)<br />
Nearly 4 hours after that, I was checked again at 2:20am: I was 7cm
and 80% effaced. Such slow progress! Ugh ugh ugh! Starting to get really
really frustrated! Starting to think I couldn’t do it. Starting to
seriously doubt myself and the whole natural childbirth plan. I started
to become desperate. I was so tired. My UCSF midwife, the one I saw for
maybe two prenatal visits, happened to be working that night and she
became another important rock in the room, total strength. I wanted to
get back in the bath, my only respite. She mentioned on the way in that
the bath won’t slow down “active labor.” Oh, so I’m finally in “active”
labor at this point, I thought, as we approach the 24 hour mark.<br />
Sure enough, the bath felt good but did not lessen the contractions.
She sat on the bathroom floor beside me as I alternated between comatose
sleeping and big, hard, anguished contractions. I started to say I
didn’t think I could do this. She said, “You can totally do this. You
ARE doing this.”<br />
I got out of the tub and, in my memory, I crawled back into the room.
I think in reality I walked in but ended up on my hands and knees
somehow, and I felt so desperate. I was saying I can’t do this, that I
was frantic, that I just wanted the epidural. My audience wasn’t really
going to budge on that one–they looked at me blankly for a moment, then
with compassion, then said again, “You can do this.” I was furious. But I
kept somehow, somehow, kept going, one contraction at a time.<br />
The midwife said, well we do have this drug called Fentanyl that can
take the edge off, it lasts about an hour to an hour and half. And I
said YES, bring me that, thinking OK good, maybe this is all I needed.
They brought it in, hooked it up to my IV, and I felt lightheaded for a
second, then the next contraction hit. It honestly didn’t take the edge
off, at all. Still, lightheadedness was something… And I kept going. By
5:20am I had progressed to “almost 8.” (Yes, that’s right–between 2:20
and 5:20am I progressed from 7 to “almost 8.”)<br />
At this point, I just felt beaten. Em says that this is when I
surrendered. I told my mom and my doula to go ahead and get some
sleep–there was nothing more they could do for me. They were utterly
exhausted. I got in a side-lying position on the bed, the only
position I could manage, and the Fentanyl allowed me to sleep for two
minutes at a time between contractions. For this, I thank that drug,
because although it didn’t make it less painful, I think my body could
regenerate just enough. There were almost no thoughts. No more
visualizations, no more mantras, no more words or ideas. I couldn’t
think of myself or the baby. The only thought I remember having was to
call the nurse and ask her to bring me the nitrous oxide setup and
specifically not to wake my mom or my doula–it would be our secret! But
somehow I didn’t hit that call button.<br />
That last hour was the purest, most intense physical experience of my
life. Just huge waves that completely obliterated me, punctuated by
sleep. And, at around 6:30am, just as the second sunrise broke across
the city, I had the blessed urge to push. “Mom! I have the urge to
push!” She had the nurse on the line 4 seconds later, the nurse had the
doctor in 4 seconds after that, I was checked, and I was 10
cm–complete!!! Oh, hallelujah! Let’s DO THIS!!!<br />
Everything changed–I was giddy. My doula had gone to the cafeteria
and I texted her: “Ready to push come back!” I also texted Em and she
was able to come. Doctors and nurses and midwives were assembling in the
room and I was getting a primer on how to push–my doula said, “It’s
going to feel like you’re pushing a giant boulder out of your butt.” (It
totally did.) Gather all the energy of the contraction at the
beginning, and, when you’re ready, give it everything you’ve got.<br />
I ended up on my back on the bed, holding my knees in the air, and
the sun streamed in, and this incredible team of birth goddesses made a U
around the end of the bed–my doula, my mom, a medical student named
Kacy who held up my iPad like a mirror so I could watch, a new midwife,
the OB who would catch the baby, awesome/amazing nurses, and Em walked
in just in time! I actually said, “this part is going to be fun.”<br />
The mood was like a party–after the dim and dark hours of labor
through the night, it felt like a different room. Sunshine and the
talents of modern medicine and midwifery and family and love all
gathered close.<br />
When my first big contraction came, I gave it all I had–and the team
totally freaked out, telling me I was a champion pusher and they could
see the head already! What?!?! Yes! It has dark hair! Incredible! Just
keep doing what you’re doing!<br />
So I did–I was yelling in that gutteral way you see in movies and
just pushing like gangbusters, harnessing the freight train that was
rushing through my body, like no other sensation in the world. And the
baby moved down, and down, and down. They were all so encouraging and
clearly having a blast. And, honestly, so was I.<br />
This was the high point, the whole pushing phase, I was totally
empowered and animal and in my body. The head started to crown–they were
pouring mineral oil over the top and holding a warm compress to my
perineum and cheering like a crowd in a stadium. I could see his head
emerging on my iPad and it was so motivating!<br />
At some point, Em said, “K, REACH DOWN AND PULL OUT YOUR BABY!” and I
did, and his whole body slipped out of me and he was on my chest and I
was hyperventilating and laughing and saying “oh my god” a million times
and he cried right away and looked at me with his EYES and grabbed my
finger with his HAND and everyone was crying and he was perfect. They
were wiping him roughly with towels to get him to pink up and suctioning
his mouth and nose and it was a short umbilical cord so I couldn’t get
him very high up but I could kiss his head and say, “I’m your mama!
You’re here!” and he cried and was adorable and HUGE. He was born at
8:51am on May 19, 2014.<br />
(He is back in the rocker sleeping peaceful now, thanks Mimi. And I’m sitting here crying, reliving his birth.)<br />
We stayed like that for a long time, I have no idea how long, and
eventually I cut the cord myself (!) and they took him across the room
to do a few things and my mom went with him. I overheard someone say “10
pounds, 2 ounces,” and was completely blown away–none of us EVER
thought I had a 10lb baby. In fact, thank goodness none of us knew,
especially me. He came out long and strong. All his checks went
perfectly and they brought him back to me. My mom went to my dad and
sister in the waiting room that it would just be a little longer and
they could come in–fortunately they weren’t in the room for what came
next.<br />
The docs were acting a little nervous about my placenta. Because he
was so big, his placenta was also big. Then they were reassured, “there
it is,” and it was born 14 minutes after the baby. And, when it detached
it caused a hemorrhage. My doula got in my face with her big blue eyes
as the room filled with twice as many doctors and said, “So, there’s an
issue with the placenta, it’s totally going to be fine, we have the best
team working on this, and you and I are going to just stay right here
and focus on the baby.” I stayed calm as they put all kinds of new meds
in my IV to get my uterus to clamp down and stop the bleeding, which
they did quickly, but not before I lost a lot of blood.<br />
So that was scary but because they resolved it so quickly, and I was
on Cloud 1,000,000, it felt more like an addendum to the whole
experience. I’m just so grateful that it was quickly resolved and I made
a quick recovery.<br />
They cleaned up the room and brought my family in and there were
tears and photos and we called my sister D and welcomed our new family
member. We ordered food and marveled over this little (not so little)
guy who was just impossibly cute for having been born just hours before.<br />
They moved me to a smaller room and my family left and I spent hours
just staring at him, the rest of the day slipped away and I barely even
slept. He was and is perfect. A dream come true. I am grateful for every
moment with this beautiful human as I complete one epic journey and
begin an even bigger one.<br />
Welcome, Baby E. (and, on cue, he just woke up.)<br />
xo<br />
<br />
(If you are interested in more, please check out Katie's blog at www.thesolomamaproject.wordpress.com!)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-56797130748842575522014-06-23T08:22:00.001-07:002014-06-23T08:27:46.859-07:00Jo's Birth by Nikki<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1wIKamj9GA0/U6hE8ysIURI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/ENEftgJFPRA/s1600/IMG_0971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1wIKamj9GA0/U6hE8ysIURI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/ENEftgJFPRA/s1600/IMG_0971.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4/9/14, 6:42am</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
8lbs 11oz, 21in</div>
The Saturday before Jo’s birth, I walked to Jane Austin yoga on Valencia with Katie, had lunch after at Papalote with her, Melissa, Sage, and Sage's cousin. The 5 pregnant bellies got a lot of looks! Katie and I then walked home (about 4 miles total). When I peed that afternoon at home, I noticed a couple small yellow things on the tissue. They looked like lima bean shells. Dan and I went out to Indian and then to the movies that night to see “The Grand Budapest Hotel”. I felt some contractions in the theater that felt like period pains in my back, and I thought maybe labor was starting that night. I went #2 mid-movie and that seemed to stop them. The next couple of days I noticed that I felt slower, but didn’t feel any contractions.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday, 4/8/14, I felt very slow. Instead of packing my day of yoga, errands, reading baby books, etc. I watched a couple episodes of "Call the Midwife" (ha!), a Tanya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan Netflix movie (double ha!) and went to acupuncture in between. I also did a YogaGlo prenatal meditation on "a circle of mothers". My mind was a bit racy, as I would notice I didn't catch a line of her meditation instruction here and there. All afternoon/evening I had been losing pink mucus, so I knew it was coming on. I went to book club that evening and started to feel the need to record contractions around 8:30pm. I was surprised to notice that they were about 4.5 – 5 minutes apart. My book club friends were super excited to be witnessing my early labor. We took some pictures of my belly that night. The boyfriend of the book club host, Andrew, came home and asked my reasons for a homebirth. It was great to repeat them to myself. I am not sick. Jo is not sick. Birth is natural. I feel more comfortable at home. I don't want to worry about the lack of control or independence in a hospital. I trust my body to do the work. I trust my baby. Andrew played a sound recording of Patton Oswalt making fun of homebirth, and we all had a good laugh. It was great to feel at ease and laugh about the experience I was about to endure. I started to feel a little more physical discomfort at 9:45pm and got a ride home.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2plLMMvSPFw/U6hE8YRN6wI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/SzMGPkLfTzY/s1600/9HrsBeforeJo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2plLMMvSPFw/U6hE8YRN6wI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/SzMGPkLfTzY/s1600/9HrsBeforeJo.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
I called Alli, our doula, at about 10:30pm to warn her that I was having fairly consistent contractions. We decided I'd take a bath and then get to bed for the night to prep for a long day or two of birth. She said, "Now your toes and feet and wading into the ocean." (She told me I was just dipping my toes in when I told her about the mucus plug the Saturday before.) Dan was playing games with friends and got home around 11:30pm. I couldn't sleep. Dan started timing the contractions and we did that for a few hours as Dan starting prepping my labor stations downstairs and filling the birth tub. I would yell to him to start the timer and then yell him to stop. It got harder and harder to let him know. I got up from the bed after a rush to go sit on the toilet and my water broke. It was about 2:35am. I remember being a bit in denial about it because I wanted it to break further along so I could wait longer for the penicillin. (I am GBS positive and decided to have Maria administer penicillin at home.) Alli was already on her way, so Dan called to let Maria know about my water. Alli arrived at 3:10am, and I was leaning over the upstairs tub when she got there. Dan had to leave to drive to Kaiser and pick up the penicillin. I remember being ok about him leaving because Alli was there, but I was definitely glad when he came back later. After Alli watched a few contractions she said, "I think this is early labor." I didn't want to hear that because I was noticing that they felt pretty close together and were getting stronger. I expected a 5-10 minute rest instead of 2-4 at that stage. Sometimes I got between 2-4 waves in a row- usually the first was most intense and then it would lead right into another (or 2 or 3!) "half" or "full" waves. I started to want and really need my hot water bottle on my back and pressure on my hips during each wave. I remember Alli telling me I was wading further into the ocean of labor, now up to my thighs. Alli asked me if I wanted to change positions a couple of times and I pretty much ignored her. I couldn’t think about where to go and how to change positions. I was in my zone and I just needed them to witness and apply pressure to my hips. All fours with my hips swaying was my position of choice. I pretty much did that the entire labor- on my bed and on the bathroom floor. Sitting on the toilet wasn’t as comfortable to me.<br />
<br />
Alli kept repeating "deep and low" to help me vocalize through my moans. It was extremely helpful because it was repetitive and simple. I also remember her softly saying "open" a few times to help me fixate on that word. At one point she asked what my mental image was, and I told her I was floating in the ocean. I remember mentally fixating on softening, opening, letting go, floating- all things that required a lot of energy since it is the opposite of what the body is telling you to do.<br />
I felt like I couldn't get enough water and my throat was getting raw from the moans. I was also sipping recharge but wished it was more diluted it as it seemed a little intense of a flavor at the time. Dan had asked if I wanted the music of singing bowls and oms that a friend from birth class shared with us. I said no. I didn’t want anything but pressure on my hips and water!<br />
<br />
While Dan was at Kaiser, Alli called and put Maria on the phone. We discussed starting the penicillin by about 10:30am the next day and she said to call her whenever I needed to. I’m sure we discussed some other things, but I can’t remember. I remember thinking, “Oh my god. Maria thinks I won’t have the baby until tomorrow evening after I have 8 hours of penicillin! I don’t know if I can do that.” When Dan returned, Alli asked me to tell Dan what Maria told me. I tried to formulate what she said and to remember our conversation, but I could hardly get it out.<br />
<br />
It was around 4:30am when Alli suggested that we think about when we wanted to call Maria. I think Dan called her a few contractions later. When Maria arrived around 5:30am I was on the toilet. She took some vitals, watched a couple waves, and set up her equipment. I remember feeling like my contractions changed a bit when she got there. I noticed my vocalizations started to have more of a grunting sound- my ahhhhs skipping. I started to fear that I was feeling the urge to bear down, but that it was too early. Alli let me hang from her shoulders and drop my head on her belly as I went through a wave on the toilet. I did that again with Dan. <br />
<br />
Then Maria had me go to the bed so she could check my dilation. I remember that being the most painful part of my labor- laying on my back on the bed. She felt and said, "I only feel head. There's no cervix!" I didn't quite understand what that meant so I remember asking, "Is that 10 cm?" She said yes and "Nikki! You are going to have your baby soon!" That felt AMAZING to hear! It was about 6:20am. Maria checked in with me and asked if I wanted penicillin. At that point we both knew we wouldn't be able to get the recommended 2 bags in over a period of 8 hours. We also knew that my water had only been broken for a little under 4 hours. We decided not to administer the penicillin, and I felt a huge sense of relief. It had been something I was really dreading about my labor. Maria called her back-up midwife, Laura, to get here as soon as she could.<br />
<br />
They asked, "Where do you want to have the baby?" I thought to myself, "I haven't used my tub yet or any of my birthing stations Dan spent so much time setting up, but there's no way I'm going downstairs at this point!" Dan then whispered in my ear, “Nikki, Do you want to have it up here?" And I said "Yes, on the floor." Maria set up chucks pads and quickly got all her equipment ready upstairs. I got down onto all fours and had a couple intense rushes with a lot of grunting. I felt like my body was doing exactly what it needed to on its own. I didn't feel like I was making an effort to push at all. My baby and my body were doing the work, and I just got out of their way. I remember my lips feeling extremely chapped all of a sudden. I was using the corner of a chucks pad to wipe them off in between rushes. It was probably a great distraction!<br />
<br />
Maria said to Alli that she would need to put on gloves and assist her if Laura didn't get there in time. That didn’t worry me. Dan and Maria were behind me and Alli was in front of me. As a wave came, I'd lean back into my hips and stick my butt out towards Maria and Dan. Maria kept encouraging me to keep it up and push when I felt the urges. Just as the head started to appear, the doorbell rang and Alli ran down to let Laura in. I remember it being a little hectic and Dan yelling, "Just push the 'door' button!" Maria said for me to reach down and feel my baby's head. I tried twice, but couldn't reach and decided to concentrate on the pushing and let Dan enjoy that moment for himself.<br />
<br />
Maria said she saw some meconium so she would do some suctioning if that was ok. I said yes. The word 'meconium' made me nervous, but the confidence in Maria's voice made that dissipate quickly. Maria used the Doppler a couple times to check the baby's heartbeat. I found it extremely reassuring, invigorating, and empowering to hear her heartbeat! It was strange that the Doppler was so far down near my pubis when Maria got a nice, loud, fast heartbeat. My baby was so low and almost out!<br />
I only had a couple more contractions before she was fully out! I remember thinking that it wasn't as painful as the waves and didn’t burn as bad as I thought “the ring of fire” would burn. With the next wave, I grunted and her head slowly came out and then quickly followed by her entire body. <br />
<br />
Dan caught our little Jo as she came out at 6:42am. I felt my wet, warm baby placed gently next to my foot while Maria suctioned her mouth and nose and looked her over quickly. She then passed little Jo between my legs to me and had me sit back against Dan. I was completely overwhelmed with joy! Laura got there just as Jo was handed to me threw my legs. She said she walked in to hear, “Nikki, reach down and grab your baby.” <br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hGxGkVXKh_4/U6hE8VYeCRI/AAAAAAAAB5k/WVjx2lLdB84/s1600/IMG_0858.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hGxGkVXKh_4/U6hE8VYeCRI/AAAAAAAAB5k/WVjx2lLdB84/s1600/IMG_0858.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
Dan and I sat like that for a few minutes while everyone said congratulations and good work and cried and smiled. Alli was taking pictures during the birth and while Dan and I were snuggling our little Jo for the first time. These will be some of the most precious pictures I’ll ever have!<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, Maria had me sit on the birth stool to birth the placenta. I asked if I should push and Maria said to push a little. It happened quickly and smoothly. It felt great to release that.<br />
We were then tucked into bed holding Jo. They all started to clean up the space and Laura came over periodically to check Jo's heartbeat and look at her color. We kept JoJo attached to her placenta.<br />
Maria checked me and said I had a secondary tear which is the most common tear. I was surprised I tore because I didn't feel a lot of pain. I laid on the edge of the bed while Maria stitched me up and Dan held Jo. Maria did some local numbing with a spray first and then several tiny injections. I could hardly feel her doing the stitching which was a relief. I remember telling her to make it good because I'm a vagina model. Dan had to let them all know I was joking.<br />
<br />
Then Maria took Jo and checked her body thoroughly which we got on video- so nice to have! She weighed and measured her. I asked everyone to make guesses. I knew she'd be at least an 8lb. baby all along. Maria guessed 8lbs. 10oz. We all guessed lower. We all gasped when she said Jo was 8lbs. 11 oz.! 21in.! I remember saying, "This body was made to carry large babies!" It hit me that this was MY baby when Maria was doing the checks. Wow! Dan and I made this being and it belonged to US!<br />
<br />
Not too long after this point, Alli and Laura had to leave. Another mother was in labor that Alli and Maria were working with so Alli left to be by her side. Laura went to Maria's office to greet a couple women who had morning prenatal appointments. One was with our friends, Melissa and Paul, so I told Laura to tell them I had my baby. I found out later another appointment was with Ester from my birth class who was due that very day. We laughed about our due dates being so close together and had our babies make a pact that mine would come that week and hers would hold off until Maria was back in town the following week.<br />
<br />
Maria told us she would stay for a while longer. She went downstairs to do some charting and phone calls while Dan, JoJo and I cuddled in bed. Jo pooped 3 times in the first few hours all over Dan! So he got into the shower to clean off and we wiped Jo down. Soon after that I got up to pee and passed a huge blood clot! Dan called Maria up to check it saying it was the size of a hamburger. She examined it and said she wasn’t concerned, but there shouldn’t be another the same size.<br />
<br />
Alli had prepared us a bunch of food (eggs, bone broth and root stew) before she left, so we got back in bed with full tummies and cuddled with our new babe. We skyped with both of my East Coast parents that afternoon. Dan made spaghetti and a salad for dinner. I didn’t sleep a wink that night (or the next!) <br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TL7Fo54XwE0/U6hE9FD-PsI/AAAAAAAAB5c/YACnIOUtsLg/s1600/image.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TL7Fo54XwE0/U6hE9FD-PsI/AAAAAAAAB5c/YACnIOUtsLg/s1600/image.jpeg" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
As she lays on me napping at 2 weeks old, it still baffles me that she is ours, that we made her and get the absolute pleasure of watching her grow up and guiding her through this strange, wonderful world. We love her so, so much.<br />
<br />
Some things I did to prepare for the birth:<br />
- Community acupuncture throughout my pregnancy- about once/week<br />
- Prenatal yoga about once/week (I’ve been practicing for 13 years!)<br />
- 10,000 steps almost every day during 2nd and 3rd trimester<br />
- Chiropractic care 1-2 times per week starting at week 36.<br />
- Tried to eat very healthy and limit sugar, but indulged during special times.<br />
- Had a mother symbol that I would envision often throughout the day- a blonde mermaid sitting on rocks at the edge of an ocean. She was very beautiful and relaxed and carefree. Her beauty, grace, and ease were very reassuring.<br />
<br />
At week 39:<br />
- Acupuncture 4 times that week (plus the day I went into labor)<br />
- Prenatal acupressure massage<br />
- Perineal massage a couple of times<br />
- Yoga 2 times per week<br />
- A couple birth meditations on YogaGlo (and one the day I went into labor)<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3881074461607606155.post-2749269218131559962014-05-12T21:25:00.000-07:002014-05-12T21:25:59.065-07:00Gray's Almost Homebirth by Vanessa <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLMA8LznAaI/U3GalvtyEcI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/0LragdD_Pb8/s1600/IMG_1164_low.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLMA8LznAaI/U3GalvtyEcI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/0LragdD_Pb8/s1600/IMG_1164_low.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a> <br />
It's been almost 3 years since this beautiful and unexpected birth
experience. Although I wrote the story one week after he was born, I
haven't shared it until now. I felt disappointed and ashamed about
transferring to the hospital and not having the homebirth we planned
which I think prevented me from sharing for awhile. I also felt grateful
and happy we still had a natural birth with no major interventions and
many beautiful moments during the birth. I was born at home and so were
both my siblings so I assumed my children would be as well, but the
universe had different plans. As we prepare for the birth of our second
child, due in one week, the story keeps coming back to me and begging to
be shared. So here it is... <br />
<span id="yiv7826120997docs-internal-guid-63de0784-eea5-fe06-213f-fa8141bb259a"></span><br />
<br />
Gray Roland Oscar arrived Saturday, May 21st 2011, at 7:01am, 1 week
before his due date. He was a healthy and beautiful 8lb 1oz, 20.5 inches
long. I had been feeling cramping and Braxton Hicks periodically
throughout the week. Friday evening I began feeling lower back pain and
some contractions after sitting for awhile to Skype and show off the
belly to my brother. I thought I'd either sat too long in one position
or it might be time for baby to come, but the sensations were very
irregular. So when Matt came home from work around 8pm feeling sick with
a cold, we ate a good meal of our favorite takeout (Nopalito) and
talked with excitement about the baby possibly coming soon. We both felt
tired and that we could be in for a long night so around 10pm we
decided to sleep and see what happened overnight.<br />
<br />
I woke up about midnight and realized I could no longer lay down and these were the steady surges I had read about coming over me like ocean waves. I immediately woke Matt up and told him to get ready. The labor was intense and progressed fast which caught Matt and I both by surprise. As he prepared our bed and tried to get the birth tub setup, I contacted friends who had offered to help but everyone was unavailable. I then called my mom (who was living in the Boston area) for support while Matt did preparation. I was timing the contractions on Matt's phone which he setup as a stopwatch to track them for me. I talked with my mom, who was living in Boston, for support until my phone died. I mainly wanted to stand and lean (on the table, dresser, sink) and remembering "juicy hips" from Jane's class really helped as well as Matt doing massage we practiced in class. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jcmyzsLBGYM/U3GajNTu63I/AAAAAAAAB3s/AHHjz5xUoHU/s1600/IMG_1085_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jcmyzsLBGYM/U3GajNTu63I/AAAAAAAAB3s/AHHjz5xUoHU/s1600/IMG_1085_low.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
I felt so relieved when Matt looked at the stopwatch and said we should call Maria. She got there quickly at around 3am. I was going into transition and 7cm dilated when she checked me. My memory is a blur from there, but around this time I also had Skyped my mom and was leaning on the couch for a bit. Then we moved to the toilet and I stayed there for awhile as it felt very comfortable and I had to go so frequently anyway. Maria was a constant, reassuring presence, but let us do our thing and just came in periodically to monitor the heartbeat. I was shaky and threw up a couple times while sitting on the toilet, but the position felt relaxing after leaning over for so long. Sue Baelen came as second midwife with a comforting presence and began offering me drinks with a straw which was nice. My water broke at 5am on the toilet and Maria checked the color to make sure there wasn't too much meconium. She said I would probably feel the urge to push like I had to poop soon and I did. <br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pn1eLpQuEx0/U3GajKycB2I/AAAAAAAAB3o/-IIQM44Of7s/s1600/IMG_1091_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pn1eLpQuEx0/U3GajKycB2I/AAAAAAAAB3o/-IIQM44Of7s/s1600/IMG_1091_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /> <br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SE13jpkvGuE/U3GajN3X1JI/AAAAAAAAB3w/Ca-4Khs6Kps/s1600/IMG_1092_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SE13jpkvGuE/U3GajN3X1JI/AAAAAAAAB3w/Ca-4Khs6Kps/s1600/IMG_1092_low.jpg" width="300" /></a> <br /><br />I'm not sure why or how, but we then moved into the bedroom for the birth. My guess is they told me the tub wasn't filling up quick enough and the bed is where I thought it'd be best to have the baby. I was on hands and knees propped up with pillows on our bed and beginning to push when baby's heart rate started decelerating during contractions and not recovering properly. I began to feel scared, doubtful, and anxious at this point about what was happening both with the intensity of feeling in my body and the baby's heartbeat which I could hear dropping. I could also hear the midwives talking about what to do and could tell something was concerning. Maria checked me again and there was a tiny bit of cervix she massaged open. Then I was fully dilated and started to push again, but still the heart rate was decelerating. They had me rest on my side and not push while they put me on oxygen and assessed the situation. Maria and Sue both calmly said we should consider transporting, but it was our choice and we had to move quick as baby was ready to come. I was in no state to decide and just trying my hardest not to push so I turned to Matt. We had talked about this ahead of time as I knew I would not be able to make decisions in the moment. <br /><br />At 6am we got in Maria's car and zipped over to UCSF. The hardest part of labor was trying not to push during that car ride with the oxygen mask on in the back seat by myself. Before we left, Sue helped me get dressed and told me to go within and talk to my baby and tell him it is safe to come out. So I went within and focused on that mantra to remain calm when surrounded by the chaos of a hospital. This was so helpful as I had been caught up in my own feelings and forgotten to connect with my baby and the deeply internal process. They were ready for us when we got there and quickly hooked me up to monitors and such. I was terrified of the hospital scene and that they would try to put me on drugs or do all types of interventions. All the doctors and people in blue scrubs with bright lights and machines everywhere was completely overwhelming. So I chose to only look at Matt and Maria, who were both to my left side with the sunrise in a big window behind them.<br /><br /> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tuadoy6zxo/U3Gaj54LMRI/AAAAAAAAB30/aV_v-waBB4s/s1600/IMG_1099_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tuadoy6zxo/U3Gaj54LMRI/AAAAAAAAB30/aV_v-waBB4s/s1600/IMG_1099_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /> Maria was amazing as an advocate for us and liaison with the hospital staff. She helped explain everything and made sure they did not do anything without our understanding or permission. Our biggest obstacle at first with the doctors was that I was GBS positive and refusing antibiotics. I remember Maria just saying clearly "This baby is coming now. There is not time for that!" and feeling so grateful for her presence as they seemed to respect her opinion. Matt was my rock and looking into his eyes while holding his hand helped me stay calm and focused. <br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8cKmAr9EoY/U3GajoBhMVI/AAAAAAAAB40/9yIhyR7E6EY/s1600/IMG_1096_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8cKmAr9EoY/U3GajoBhMVI/AAAAAAAAB40/9yIhyR7E6EY/s1600/IMG_1096_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br />When they finally told me I could start pushing, it felt so good to finally do it! I just couldn't wait for the next contraction and all my fear dissipated as I tapped into my inner strength to push my baby out into the world. I was really thirsty, but no one would tell Matt where to get me water and they just kept saying they'd give me fluid through an IV which did not help the dry feeling in my mouth. The baby's heart rate was still unstable so they were concerned and one doctor said I had to get him out fast and gave me a time limit of 10 minutes before using the vacuum, which looking back seems silly since I had no concept of time. Another more friendly doctor told me I could take the oxygen mask off during contractions if that helped and it did. So I gave it my all and again focused on Matt and Maria who assured me I was doing great and was capable of getting baby out safely. After about a half hour of hardcore pushing and a small episiotomy (which we allowed under Maria's advisement), Gray was born looking very healthy at 7:01am with a 9/9 apgars and no explanation for the decelerations.<br /><br /> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m4QBrVUmwTY/U3GakNGepKI/AAAAAAAAB34/6ibnTyNoV6M/s1600/IMG_1102_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m4QBrVUmwTY/U3GakNGepKI/AAAAAAAAB34/6ibnTyNoV6M/s1600/IMG_1102_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MzIUmat94E/U3GakqkA0KI/AAAAAAAAB4A/IKFVe8xXpyM/s1600/IMG_1111_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MzIUmat94E/U3GakqkA0KI/AAAAAAAAB4A/IKFVe8xXpyM/s1600/IMG_1111_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />I felt immediate relief, pure bliss, and a wonderful sense of the power inside my own body that had taken over. Holding Gray and snuggling him to my chest for the first time was the most amazing feeling I've ever experienced. Matt and I both were crying with joy and the profound sense of love for our new little family. <br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lyjnvQgOBu0/U3Gak1nuzQI/AAAAAAAAB4E/FPWKg7dtQCo/s1600/IMG_1126_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lyjnvQgOBu0/U3Gak1nuzQI/AAAAAAAAB4E/FPWKg7dtQCo/s1600/IMG_1126_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br />My biggest complaint with the hospital birth was that they cut the cord quickly and didn't give him to me right away. Instead, they took him over to an area of the room where I couldn't see to check him out (Matt went with him). I remember asking to delay cord clamping and hold him, but Maria said they wouldn't. I think this was because they saw more meconium come out with him and maybe because of the heart decelerations too. They did bring him to me quickly and he clearly recognized his mama. After I was holding him for a bit, Maria noticed he was making sounds that indicate trouble breathing. So they took him to the nursery to suction out some meconium and mucus way down in his lungs and again we were grateful Maria was there. <br /><br /> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjH8ZJ5KY1o/U3GalG-mVRI/AAAAAAAAB4M/7pj0ACShW8k/s1600/IMG_1139_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjH8ZJ5KY1o/U3GalG-mVRI/AAAAAAAAB4M/7pj0ACShW8k/s1600/IMG_1139_low.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br />Matt went with him to hold his hand and say no to all the other "routine" procedures they wanted to do in the nursery. Gray was back to me for skin time in 20 minutes breathing normally and ready to sleep on his mama's chest which he still loves to do. Maria said we could decide whether to checkout AMA (against medical advice) that day or stay the night and have them do the newborn tests. We decided to stay the day and night at the hospital as we were all exhausted. Although it was incredibly uncomfortable and not our cozy home environment, we did have a room with a panoramic view of the golden gate bridge and some very friendly nurses. We had a great nurse who helped us get discharged the next day even though they wanted us to stay 48 hours for monitoring due to my GBS positive status. <br /><br />The past 3 years has been a rollercoaster of emotions about this birth. Ending up at the hospital was hard, but ultimately it was still an empowering and beautiful experience for me. Working through my feelings around this birth is one of the greatest lessons and healing opportunities in my motherhood journey. Gray loves to hear the story of his birth and see pictures from that day which helps me remember the truly amazing experience. He is such a beautiful being full of love, laughter, and a wonderful imagination that I feel so lucky to have brought into this world. <br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzbSH0HZQ6A/U3Gal5H9FLI/AAAAAAAAB4g/pUCnsLbV3ZY/s1600/IMG_4642_low.jpg"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzbSH0HZQ6A/U3Gal5H9FLI/AAAAAAAAB4g/pUCnsLbV3ZY/s1600/IMG_4642_low.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone always told me that I would “just know” when labor
started. I didn’t quite understand what that meant, but when I awoke at 3:30 am
on January 19 to the feeling of slight lower back pain that moved around to the
front of my body in a wave-like formation <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> I
just knew. Labor was starting and we would soon meet our baby boy, Beau, whose
arrival we had been anticipating for so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was excited and ready to do whatever it took to meet him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rolled over in bed, nudged my husband, and told him that I
had just felt my first real contraction and that I had a very strong feeling
the baby would be born that day. We quickly discussed that it was possible that
we had a long road ahead of us; so, we both tried our hardest to fall back
asleep and resist the urge to get the day started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to restroom before going back to sleep
and noticed a small amount of pink-tinged liquid in the toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I could think is, “this is really
happening!” I never thought I would be so excited to greet the “bloody show” I
had heard so much about and that was a sign that “real” labor <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span>
not the Braxton Hicks contractions that I had been feeling for weeks <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span>
had finally arrived!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About an hour later, I had another surge that woke me from
my sleep. When I glanced at the clock I saw that it was 4:44 am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From that point forward, I felt a great sense
of calm and an unwavering confidence that the birth would go smoothly and that
I was being watched over and guided by a force greater than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The number 4 and the time 4:44 has always been
special to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout most of my
life, my mother and I always wake briefly at 4:44 am for what appears to be no
reason at all, and she always told me that when I did so it was a sign that
angels were watching over me and guiding me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I consistently awoke at 4:44 am during most of my pregnancy <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span>
just as my mother had done during her pregnancies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounds silly, but waking for that surge at
4:44 am set me on a very positive course and helped me have faith that
everything was going to be just fine with the birth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was able to go back to sleep until approximately 7:00 am,
at which point we woke and made a delicious breakfast of our favorite spicy
cheddar muffins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we finished
breakfast, my husband called our doula, Sandra Lloyd, to let her know that
labor had begun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sandra suggested that I
try to take it easy and rest as much as possible to ensure that I maintained my
strength for the rest of the labor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
also called Maria to let her know that labor had started and promised to keep
her updated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then called my family to
let them know that I was in labor, and as planned, my mother began shopping for
an airline ticket so that she could hopefully make it out from Dallas to San
Francisco in time for the birth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Early labor was pretty uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For most of the morning I did what I would do
any normal day <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> took a shower, did some
light housework, read the news, and spent some time in the backyard enjoying
the beautiful and unseasonably warm January weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even started questioning whether what I was
experiencing was real labor because my surges were only about six minutes apart
and were not painful or even that noticeable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things started to pick up mid-day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to experience some pain on and off
with the surges that caught me by surprise. Every third to fourth surge would
be really strong, and they started coming closer together at about four minutes
apart. I was trying my best to eat and stay hydrated, but when the strong surges
came, I had a hard time keeping food and drink down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the course of a few hours, I vomited with
six of the surges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were worried that
I would become dehydrated; so, we called Maria again and she suggested that I
slow my ingestion of food and liquid to see if it would stop the vomiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maria’s suggestion was exactly what I needed
because from that point forward, my stomach felt much better and I did not
vomit again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spent the rest of the afternoon laying on the couch and
distracting myself from the pain of the surges by watching the 49ers lose to
the Seahawks in the NFL playoffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also
dozed off intermittently while my husband prepared what was to be a fantastic post-labor
meal of some of my favorites <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> lentil soup and rice
krispie treats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The afternoon seemed to
fly by in a matter of minutes, and my surges sped up very quickly. By this
time, I had gotten into the groove of labor. I was no longer feeling pain;
rather, I was feeling very excited about meeting our baby and kept replaying
affirmations in my head, such as “you’re making progress” and “you’re one step
closer to the end.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the end of the
afternoon, I had sufficiently psyched myself out and was actually looking
forward to strong surges because they enabled me to visualize the baby’s head
sliding down faster than with the easy surges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had no idea how quickly I had progressed, but by 3:30 pm my surges had
become only two minutes apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this
point, I had the strong urge to labor on the toilet and began to feel a slight
sensation to begin pushing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also lost
my mucus plug while sitting on the toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the meantime, my husband had begun filling the aqua doula that we assembled
several days before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My husband quickly called Maria and our doula, Sandra, to
report on the progress, and both told us that they were headed our way since
things were progressing so quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By
the time Maria and her back-up midwife, Laura, arrived early that evening, I
was so in the zone that all I remember was being very still and
introspective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was focused only on
making progress and doing whatever it took to meet Beau as soon as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Maria checked me, she said that I was at
9.5 cm, that I was going to have the baby soon, and that I should let her know
as soon as I was ready to start pushing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At that point, all I felt like doing was sitting on the toilet to labor.
I had every intention of using the aqua doula for labor and delivery, if
possible, but the tub wasn’t even all the way full and it was too late to jump
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few minutes after sitting on the
toilet, I heard a very loud pop and a gush of water (I credit the Vitamin C
with bioflavonoids I had been taking for several weeks for the strength of the
bag). Maria rushed in and checked that the water was free of meconium, which,
thankfully, it was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I immediately felt a very strong urge to push. Maria and
Sandra guided me into my bed where I began pushing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about 30 minutes, I felt that I would
be able to push more effectively if I sat on the birthing stool; so, I
transferred to the stool and continued to push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made much more progress in that position, and after about an hour, Maria
let me know that I was very close to birthing the baby’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband later told me that this sight was
one of the most surreal that he has ever seen, and I wish that I had not turned
down the opportunity to feel the head at that moment. However, I spent most of
my time pushing with my eyes closed and my hands on my knees, and all I was
thinking was “I’m making progress!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn’t want to change anything at that point <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> not
even the position of my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother
arrived right around this time, and as Maria mentioned later, Beau was waiting
for his grandmother to arrive before making his debut because the delivery
kicked into high gear after she arrived and he was born within a matter of
minutes.</div>
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After a few more pushes, Maria told me that my perineum tissue
was pretty strong and was not tearing to accommodate the baby’s head as
typically occurs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said that with a
small incision to the perineum, the baby would probably be born in only a few
pushes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really wanted to avoid an
incision of any sort; so, I told her that I wanted to try giving a few more
good pushes and that if he didn’t come, I would consider the incision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few more pushes, I felt like he was
so close to arriving that I took Maria’s suggestion that we make a small
incision to allow his head to ease through the tissue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I transferred back to my bed, Maria made a
small quarter-inch incision, and our beautiful baby boy was out and on my chest
in only two pushes at 10:12 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Beau was so alert and calm, and we spent several minutes staring
into each other’s eyes. It was love at first sight, and was such a surreal
feeling that I will always treasure and never forget. My husband cut the cord
after it stopped pulsing, and Beau continued to lie on my chest while I admired
him and basked in such intense feelings of joy and relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt so grateful and relieved that the
birth had gone smoothly and that my precious son had finally arrived.</div>
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After I spent about 20 minutes bonding with Beau, Maria
guided me back to the birthing stool and I birthed the placenta in just a few
pushes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, Maria gave me a few
stitches, and I hopped in the shower to recharge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I later learned that my husband took this
opportunity to take Beau outside in our backyard, show him the full moon, and
give him his first breath of fresh California ocean air <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> an
experience that we could only have at home.</div>
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I emerged from my shower feeling better than I ever have in
my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rush of energy I felt was
incredibly intense <span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">¾</span></span> I felt so empowered, and
I know I will always be able to draw from that energy in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then returned to my freshly made bed to
begin breastfeeding Beau, and we concluded the night with a delicious feast of
lentil soup, warm bread and rice krispie treats. </div>
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Beau’s birth was the most amazing experience of my life and
I feel blessed beyond belief. I am extremely thankful that I had someone as
skilled and dedicated as Maria to guide me through the birth I had always
wanted and knew was possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Birth is empowering!</div>Mariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15927827894505164945noreply@blogger.com0