Katarina's Birth Story

"Every pregnancy is different." We remind each other of this fact often, but despite that, still look for patterns in our own to make them more predictable. It's hard waiting and not knowing. This pregnancy reminded me of that very strongly. My body followed its pattern of earlier symphysis pubis dysfunction and earlier prodromal labor--but not earlier labor itself. The baby inside me settled differently, responded to stimuli differently and, in general, was as unpredictable as could be.

I assumed on the 'safe' side, that I would have a day-long labor as I've had in the past. Well, right from the start, my actual labor started differently--it started at night. Around 9:20 pm or so. I just figured it was more false labor, but the contractions were intense enough that after a few hours of it, I texted Tara, my doula and turned on my contraction timer and recorded that they were averaging approximately a minute every 3 minutes.



I danced around to music and sang a little bit. My contractions were only really bearable when I was standing or dancing, so it seemed like the best thing to do. I couldn't get baby to drop and my labor pains moved around into my back a bit and down my legs--things I'd heard about, but never experienced myself before. I figured the dancing was still helpful anyway.

I posted on Facebook a few times, to keep everyone in the loop as promised, then decided I had to have a shower around midnight. I got into the shower and sat down, letting the water fill the tub and rain down warm on me. The contractions broke a little, but did not become less intense. I still felt better for having it. I put on a Poise panty just in case, so I could just go to bed and not worry about making a mess with my water.

I tried to get some sleep, as I'd advised Tara. I had a strong feeling that I was definitely in labor. I'd been tricked once before, so I still questioned it repeatedly, but I wanted to be rested as much as possible regardless. I was very glad I'd made the kids let me take a nap earlier. Off and on, I used the hypnobirthing/hypnobabies wrist drop while breathing through contractions and while I wasn't able to do anything involving the 'hypno' part, it still helped, surprisingly.

I woke up to contractions off and on and started chanting positive messages: "I'm fine." "It's the baby; I'm going to have a baby." "I can do this." "I've done this before." At first, they were just in my head, but I started having to breathe them out as it got harder to tolerate them while being so tired. Eventually, they became verbal and I decided I was too loud and gave up on sleeping, trying to let my family get as much as they could.

Every time I went to the bathroom, it was terribly painful from the pressure of the baby and I finally couldn't take doing it all on my own anymore, so a little after 6am, I called Tara and told her that I needed her. I had tried to make it at least until 7, but I wanted her there as soon as possible and I knew she would take about an hour to get everything ready to go. My bloody show was becoming more and more red and it seemed a good sign that things were progressing.

I called and left a message at the birth center that we were having a baby today, but didn't want to call and wake up Rachel herself when I was so sure I still had half a day left or so.

Tara came and we talked for a little bit, then I dozed on the couch off and on between contractions while she stayed next to me, dozing on the labor ball that I just could not stand to use more than to squish baby down a bit. She helped me get through more intense contractions and I returned to chanting my positive messages when I wanted to scream.

A few times, I did howl and yell, but I tried to turn it into singing, goofy sounds or more positive words when I could. My family woke up and Brandon made the kids breakfast. I was torn between starving and so nauseated I didn't want to eat. Tara had retrieved a bucket, just in case, but thankfully, I never used it. The birth center returned my call to see what was going on, but I wasn't able to talk, so I gave the phone to Tara.

Transition hit hard and fast around 10:45 or so. The birth center called back again and talked to Tara to assess where I was in labor. Tara confirmed that I was definitely in labor and that things were going quickly. Neither of us had really recognized transition yet, but my contractions had doubled and I wasn't tolerating them much anymore. I kept trying to chant my positive phrases, but I was shouting them and crying.

I was afraid of how intense it was getting, flashing back to Naomi's labor. Nausea had taken any desire to eat away and I wanted the birth pool, which I cried into Tara's shoulder as I held onto her and we swayed through a contraction. She called and told Rachel to fill it, who said she wanted to wait and check me first (which I figured, since I'd always had slower labors).

I lost all my positive and started crying that I couldn't do it, things were too hard, it was killing me, etc. and Tara just stayed positive, just as I'd asked and told me I was just in transition and it was almost over. She and Brandon got the girls ready and all the stuff out to the van while she continued to support me every couple minutes in between. Everything seemed to be flying, suddenly.

Then as we were walking me out, I grabbed Tara, falling into a contraction (to which, I had begun pleading and occasionally screaming in shock) and told her I was feeling pushy. It was a strange, half-feeling, but I knew it very well and instead of the joy with which I announced it with Naomi, it was a half-panic. She asked if she should call Rachel to come and do it here, but I was determined to get to the big, blue pool and was sure I could make it the barely 10 minute drive.

Before I could put on my seatbelt, another contraction left me screaming and arching and my water broke. I yelled at Brandon to buckle me in and hurry and that my water had broken. I started apologizing before contractions, because I knew I couldn't not scream through them. But more, 3 minutes into the drive, I was pushing and couldn't stop.

Brandon sped, worrying about being pulled over, but worrying more about not making it to the Birth Center. He kept telling me that he didn't know why I was apologizing, that I was okay. I just kept doing it--it had become a mantra. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I was writhing in the seat, trying to get away from the intense pressure on my perineum. I knew it was the baby's head and I didn't want to sit on her.

We pulled up to the ramp and Brandon ran out and banged on the door to get the midwife while I unlocked the doors as Tara ran up and unbuckled. I arched away from the seat, screaming that I was crowning, the baby was here, I was going to sit on her! When Rachel opened the door (Tara meant to call her to let her know we were on the way, but things had just moved so fast right before we left, we forgot plenty in the whirlwind), she heard and saw me and ran out, Sheena following behind.

Then she told me what I knew and didn't want to hear--I needed to get out of the van and into the Birth Center. I howled that I couldn't and she argued with me. The second there was a lull, I was being pulled out of the van and supported to the ramp. Due to my weight, I'm always nervous about people supporting me, so I was terrified that I couldn't do it. I made it almost up the ramp and then collapsed onto my hands and knees as another contraction caused my body to push and push hard!

I continued to argue with them that I couldn't get to the door as I tried to do what I knew had to be done. Just a few more feet, but my contrary birthing brain kept arguing grumpily at them (which was how I was able to keep going--that fighting urge).

"It's too cold to have the baby out here!" I heard Rachel say and I forced my hands and legs to crawl me in the door. I chewed Rachel out for not filling the pool for me and yelled that I wanted it. They started filling it while Rachel apologized, pointing out that none of us expected me to be going so fast! Later, when I had access to logic again, I'd know that there was no chance I would ever have got in the water anyway--I couldn't stand up to get in! I could barely move my legs and my uterus had a mind of its own.

I was pestered toward the bed, but I finally called it and just worried about crawling out of my pants and Poise panty (which had contained my entire water mess, hooray!), then lifted up one leg and reached down as I screamed while my body pushed again and I felt something soft and strange, but hard at the same time, coming out of my body.



I wondered if I was feeling buttocks instead of a head and asked what was coming out of me. There was a questioning, "Maybe your bag of waters?" as people shuffled to see, but I just kept wanting to know what I was feeling. Then the rest came out and I realized it was my baby's head just as someone told me that was what it was!

I couldn't see Brandon and I yelled for him and a camera. I had kept meaning to ask for pictures during labor, but it wasn't to be, things just went far faster than I expected. Instead, it was going the way we had hoped (only a little faster at the end than I meant!). Brandon appeared and pictures were taken, though it was Tara taking them.



Graphic pics:
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The kids were playing in the lobby/living area of the Birth Center and totally missed the actual birth because I screamed one more time and my baby girl flew out of me. I looked down in shock and couldn't actually comprehend that I was looking at my baby. I was very confused. A closed-eyed baby was in my hand, very still. Someone mentioned that the cord needed to be moved off her neck and it was. I heard someone say it was 11:42 when Rachel asked for the time.

After a moment, I realized that she wasn't moving as they rubbed at her and brought over the oxygen. I rubbed with them and started down, still in shock, responding mechanically. I said, "I had a baby!" in surprise as I finally absorbed that it was my baby in my hand, not breathing. Then she gave some coughs and started writhing as I yanked off my shirt and pulled her to my body, still attached to me. I looked at her ginger hair and grey eyes and noted what a round little chubber she was.



My body contracted again and I felt something coming out. I reached down and birthed my placenta, setting it on the floor. It was still partly inside, so Rachel was looking at it and waiting for it to finish. She said to give a little cough and it would finish coming, but I told her I couldn't do anything right at that moment. My body was tired and barely listening to me, though that was too much to convey.

I felt okay after a moment and gave a little push and the rest came out. I realized I'd had a lotus birth in the back of my mind, but now I was too interested in the baby I was holding. I also noted that my placenta looked to be much smaller than Naomi's.



I mentioned that Lilly should be called in to cut the cord and the girls were brought into the room to see their new sister. Lilly asked a ton of questions as Sheena opened the clamps and scissors kit and we answered her. Lilly cut the cord, though it took her a few tries to get all the way through. I examined it in fascination both before and during the whole process.




The baby had covered one of the towels in meconium shortly after being born but was mostly clean all over from all the rubbing to get her breathing. I was helped to get into the bed and snuggle with my naked baby. She and I just stared at each other for a while. I was super weak from the intensity of everything that had just happened and she was so chill that I didn't offer to nurse her. We just looked at each other, both of us surprised. She was so quiet and calm and we realized her purple complexion on one side was due to a bruise when looking for birth marks (she had none).



Her head was perfectly round, which made sense since she went from feeling high in my belly to shooting through my pelvis in only 11 minutes. Only four minutes passed from us arriving to her coming into the world outside of me. It was an hour before the shock wore off and she and I tried to nurse. I finally got her latched on (her rooting instinct hadn't kicked in) and her eyes went wide and she drank enthusiastically, looking more surprised every time she sucked and got milk.



Time flew by after that and I was only half-aware of what was going on. When Tara was ready to leave, I asked that she stay and Brandon go to Subway to get me my celebratory turkey sandwich that I had so been looking forward to. So she did and took pictures during the newborn exam. Naomi got to trim the cord down and I finally got to find out how much the baby weighed--8lbs, 13 oz and she was 20" long.








I fuzzily did the math at just under 14 1/2 hours from beginning to end.




Brandon and I talked about names (he still had my list on his phone and when he brought up one of my favorites from the old list and paired it with my favorite from my new list as a middle name, I liked the combination) and texted Tara as soon as we'd decided, then I called my mom while Brandon posted on Facebook that we had chosen--without revealing the name.

He told his sisters, parents and one friend who texted with a good story as to why she deserved to know (and hadn't been a pest about it, so he was happy to tell her anyway). He had been pestered severely by coworkers for weeks for a name (that he wouldn't have told them had we known) so he took delight in keeping it to ourselves for most of the day.

I ended up with two stitches, before which, I got up to pee and Katarina Xylia cried for the very first time as she woke up without me. Immediately, Mommy instinct hit and I called out for someone to pick up the baby, but she wasn't totally content until she was given to her daddy (since I couldn't hold her right then). She knew him right away and settled back down.

I ate and was encouraged to nap some more after a failed attempt to go shower. I didn't make it to the shower (nearly fainted) and instead, the pool was filled back up for me to take a bath. It was heaven and I brought Katarina in and we bathed together. The moment she hit the water, she relaxed and slept against me, so content. It felt so wonderful.



I was encouraged to stay a bit longer and nap some more since I was barely able to walk. It took me longer than average to recover, since things had gone so fast after so little sleep and I wasn't feeling my body's cues, so I didn't know when I was hungry and thirsty. Once I was hydrated, fed again (pizza) and napped, I was able to get dressed and walk out, feeling much better. We went home around 7pm and my sister met us at home to make sure that there were two adults to help me into the house in case I nearly fainted again, but I did fine.

My fastest labor, my heaviest baby who was the calmest, most alert newborn baby I've ever seen. My first totally natural birth--it was intense, but amazing and everything went the way I'd wanted (except for the land birth, but that's what I get for hoping for a fast birth!). I'm feeling good and I have a little baby who likes to talk already (and two proud big sisters and a sleepy, proud Daddy holding Katarina as I typed this out).

Going Past the EDD

40 weeks, 6 days

Well, I've done it again. I've got past my "due date." I'm 40 weeks, 6 days today. Baby isn't engaged anymore and she's all stinkery about position. For whatever reason, she doesn't want to come out. Before, I figured it was the stress of needing to move (we moved last week). Then maybe it was how badly I damaged my hip moving heavy stuff, so I went to the chiropractor. While I feel better, my prodromal labor hasn't even really resumed.

Friends and family seem to be convinced that they will be the one forgotten in my slew of updates as things happen during the pregnancy. I seriously post whenever I have a steady stream of contractions and yet, they seem to think they'll miss that ever important "The baby is coming now!" post! Or that I won't make it. I promise, I'll make it or my husband will. And there will be phone calls. And pictures. Come on--I document basically everything!

Here, see? I even document weirdo positions baby gets herself into:

40 weeks, 3 days

While I won't be posting graphic pictures of the birth on facebook, you can rest assured that they will be taken and they will be available eventually. And there will be some gross, gooey ones at least on facebook--just nothing showing my nether regions (which will hopefully be buried in delightfully warm water).

I start NSTs this week. That means that my midwife will strap some monitors to my belly while I chill out and watch to see that baby has good heart accelerations. Not incredibly exciting, but tends to be pretty relaxing, in my experience.

So, just as a reminder: you can't annoy the baby out, but you can put yourself at risk for being bitten. The E(STIMATED)DD is just an average. I'm not overdue until 42 weeks and baby is fine and dandy even then. I am tired and sore, but will not be pregnant forever. Once the baby comes, it will be me plus three.

And there will be pictures. So chill out. After all, I am.

Nightmare Movies from Childhood

So, when I was a kid, I would have called my oldest daughter a wuss when it comes to what scares her in movies. She can barely handle any tension--villains are just awful for her. I've tried to watch a few of my favorite movies from childhood with her to no avail. The Little Mermaid? Can't hold her attention--we didn't even make it to Ursula. Labyrinth?

 

Oh, yeah. Those goofy puppets (to me) are an absolute terror to a sensitive four (now five) year old. Thinking on other favorite movies of childhood, they're basically all out. The Neverending Story, Willow, Goonies, Legend... We were just expected to be tougher as kids in the eighties. No Dora, Max and Ruby, Caillou and the like to give us fun, happy stories without scary bad guys.

These Cracked articles illustrate that: 1 2 3

(the scene with Artax (Neverending Story horse) is definitely one that's never left me. Scary? No. Traumatizing? Well, I still get upset in movies when someone kills a horse--more so than when most humans die.)

I think it was the fear that these kids' movies inspired that led me to love the horror genre. So, what scared me as a kid? Not all are hugely different from an adult perspective, but I at least watched the whole damned movies (and seriously? Who let me watch these? Often, the answer was: my sister, but you'd be surprised how many times it was my mother). I'd never intentionally expose my children to these movies before they're cynical teenagers.

Gremlins



I used to swear I saw the little bastards in the grass at night when I stared out the windows. And I still, to this day, cannot stand open cabinets or closet doors.

Alien



That thing has been haunting my nightmares for I have no idea how long--only that I must have been exposed to it as a very, very young child.

The Gate



This movie is why I will forever hate claymation to the depths of my soul.

Twilight Zone the Movie



Poor John Lithgow. Yes, there were some scary moments with the kid with the mind powers, but nothing traumatized me as thoroughly as the gremlin on the wing of the plane. I seriously want to cry looking that thing up.

Tales from the Dark Side: Seasons of Belief



Not a movie, but I've never forgotten this. I don't think I ever will. Nor will I say Its name.

Child's Play



Really? You need an explanation? I owned this doll and promptly went home, tied her up with a jump rope and lobbed her at the back of my closet, not to look at her again for months. I actually still own her, though she has dreadlocks, no cartridge and no batteries. So my kids can play with her. If she ever talks, I know there's no batteries. Although I always thought Chucky was more of a My Buddy doll.

So, there's a list of movies that terrorized me as a kidlet. What movies haunt your nightmares?

Amber Teething Necklaces

So, these have become really popular among natural circles. I didn't hear about them until my second daughter, really and she was six months old before I decided to give it a try. I was quite skeptical, but I figured if it didn't work, it was pretty enough.

I didn't really notice any difference. She was clearly just as drooly as before and still displayed teething behaviors (gnawing on everything, drooling away, etc.). I just kept moving it from her leg at night back to her neck in the day and then one day, I realized that she had finally broken through a tooth. Her behavior had not changed. She had not become any more fussy than usual (she was a very fussy baby in general) and in fact, had not even been all that fussy that week.

The real test came when she got in two molars at once--and I had no idea she was teething until they were in. Now, maybe she was an easy teether, but with her personality and sensitivity level, I find that notion utterly preposterous.

Surprisingly, she's still somehow benefiting from it and she's over two and a half years old. Within twenty-four hours of the necklace not being on, her ability to deal with stress and unpleasant situations plummets. I have no clue why. It was why we bought another necklace to replace the first one that she broke.

That's right, she broke her necklace. Did she choke on it? Nope! She was pulling on it and, as it was designed, it broke rather than choke her. Only one bead came off--the bead at the place of breakage. See, when I got a necklace, I made sure it was designed so that every bead was individually knotted and small enough to easily pass through if swallowed. No choking hazards.

I know that's a big concern for parents--it's a necklace on a baby. Honestly, seeing how they were designed, I didn't worry about that.  I could tell it was made very safely and since I cosleep, I could see how it fell on her in her sleep after I stopped moving it from her ankle to her neck (yes, I don't take it off at night, but you certainly can if you like).

I don't know how scientifically supported they are. There are very mixed answers on that. But I don't believe in homeopathy for the most part. I'm a "I'll believe it when I see it" kind of person (I even tested Hyland's teething tablets on myself when I had a broken tooth: totally worked--the Hyland's teething gel did not, at all). Well, I've seen it and I believe it works. And sorry, but babies cannot react to placebos--how can the power of suggestion work on an infant? I'm not the only one that I know who had a baby show an obvious change when the necklace was no longer on and then a reversion to a happier baby once it was back (took about 24-48 hours for the positive change to come back, around 24 hours or less for the negative reaction to set in).

So I do recommend these. Like I said for my own daughter, if nothing else: they're pretty. They work by excreting succinic acid (amber is not a stone, but a resin) when warm, through the oils that come out when in contact with skin. Baby does not chew on them for relief. I mostly kept it under her clothes so that she didn't have much access to it, but honestly, since she'd been wearing it so long, she didn't really try to get to it that much. It was just a part of her.

Despite talking about my daughter, these are just as popular for boys! They are gender neutral and quite attractive on little boys, too.

Source

Get a necklace that has knots before and after each bead with a screw clasp (this will come apart in the event of the necklace being pulled on hard enough and can be repaired). If baby doesn't wear it at night, it might help if you do--around your ankle or wrist, to keep the amber 'warm.' Do not leave a baby alone in a crib with a necklace on! My children do not sleep alone, so she was able to wear it at all times. Take it off for baths to protect the necklace thread. Check your sources to the best of your abilities before purchasing, to be certain you get Baltic Amber and not an imitation. The lighter the stone: the higher the concentration of succinic acid, supposedly (some people say this is not true, so choose as you like!).

Courtesy stockxchng

Don't Fear the Microwave

photo courtesy stockxchng

There is a human tendency to fear or demonize anything poorly understood and especially anything new. While this is an excellent survival mechanism, unfortunately, it lingers beyond its usefulness in many circumstances. Fear is an excellent tool of control, so very often, it is encouraged by those in authority (or those desiring authority).

What does this have to do with microwaves? Quite a bit! Since no one is trying to control us through microwaves, it would seem people would get over this irrational fear, but instead, it continues to perpetuate itself through the very mystery of microwave technology itself.

I believe we can largely blame x-rays for this. For 30 years, we were assured repeatedly that x-rays were safe: so safe, women of money received them at every prenatal visit and they were available in shoe stores to see the fit of your foot inside the shoe, to ensure a proper and healthy fit.

Of course, we know now that x-rays cause cancer, infertility, pregnancy complications, fetal mutations and birth defects. Why the hell would we trust that any technology is safe after that? Well, you can either be a technophobe and take that route (why are you using a computer then? Electromagnetic radiation is coming off your screen right now!) or you can do your best to study the information available and make as informed a decision as possible.

Now, the microwave. People have many fears about this device. The first is safety--are microwaves just pouring out of the oven as it goes? No.1 Not 'pouring out'. Yes, they do leak a tiny amount of microwaves, which are non-ionizing and rodent studies have repeatedly found no damage, even from nearly an entire lifetime of chronic exposure--more than you would be exposed to even if you stood in front of one and cooked in it every day. The material that the microwave is made out of protects you. The risk from microwaves is burns--which you have to find a way to keep the door open to be exposed to (or be inside one).

Now, that brings us to how microwaves cook in the first place: "Microwave ovens cook food with waves of oscillating electromagnetic energy that are similar to radio waves but move back and forth at a much faster rate. These quicker waves are remarkably selective, primarily affecting molecules that are electrically asymmetrical — one end positively charged and the other negatively so. Chemists refer to that as a polarity. Water is a polar molecule, so when a microwave oven cooks or heats up food, it does so mainly by energizing — which is to say, heating up — water molecules, and the water energizes its molecular neighbors."2

It basically bounces around the interior of the microwave in irregular patterns, heating what it comes into contact with. So, it's not like waves pouring around inside and it's why microwaves heat unevenly much of the time.

So, okay, you either are convinced with the science or you're not, that the microwaves are well contained and even when not, they are not cancerous, due to their nature.

 

pic courtesy of stockxchng

The latest myth about microwaves, however, comes from the raw foodists. In pushing their agenda (as we all do), they have perpetuated partial study results that showed that nutrients are leeched in microwaves during cooking. This is true! They are also leeched, in greater amounts, in oven, stovetop, steam and grill cooking, due to the slower nature of the cooking methods. Nutrients are leeched during any cooking at all into the water it's prepared in.

So, raw foodists have that on their side. But that's not the message that got spread to the public (nor is it the whole story by any means). If you're a raw foodist, good for you. I'm not. I, like all generations of homo sapien before me3, like my food cooked. So, for those of us who cook our food, what is the real story here?

"Several studies have shown that microwave cooking, if properly used, does not change the nutrient content of foods to a larger extent than conventional heating. In fact, suggests that there is a tendency towards greater retention of many micronutrients with microwaving, probably due to the shorter preparation time. Does not describe non-thermal effects. The main problem with microwaving is the uneven heating of the food, which has raised concern regarding microbiological safety. Microwaving infant formula and breast milk has become increasingly popular. The content of nutrients and antibacterial factors in milk are maintained unchanged provided the final temperature does not exceed 60°C." 4

In fact: Spinach retains nearly all its folate when cooked in a microwave; in comparison, it loses about 77% when cooked on a stove, because food on a stove is typically boiled, leaching out nutrients. Bacon cooked by microwave has significantly lower levels of carcinogenic nitrosamines than conventionally cooked bacon.5 Steamed vegetables tend to maintain more nutrients when microwaved than when cooked on a stove top. Microwave blanching  is 3-4 times more effective than boiled water blanching in the retaining of the water-soluble vitamins folic acid, thiamin and riboflavin, with the exception of ascorbic acid, of which 28.8% is lost (vs. 16% with boiled water blanching).6

So, in conclusion: microwave cooking is not for every food, certainly (broccoli retains more flavanoids when steamed, for example, but if you're not going to steam it, it will retain more nutrients by microwaving than boiling on the stove--it's best eaten raw, however, for maximum nutrition: but it still contains plenty of nutrients even after cooking), but it is a valuable tool and shouldn't be as feared as it is. At the very least, don't feel guilty about using it once and a while. It's not hurting your food any more than any other method of cooking.

Why Natural Birth Advocates Are Passionate

photo courtesy of stockxchng

A lot of people misconstrue natural child birth advocates as judgmental (and frankly, everyone is judgmental to some degree--it's a natural defense mechanism) when in fact, the passion they're displaying is intended to be protective and comes from a place of caring.

Let's imagine you know of a few different hair and nail salons. One is super popular, even though it's more expensive and the satisfaction rating is lower than the other three in the area. But they give out 'free' cappuccinos, lattes, mochas or tea with every visit. I put free in quotes because the cost is actually recouped in the more expensive service.

Now, you know a few people come out with awesome hair, exactly what they wanted, but most people end up being talked into a haircut they didn't want or just having their hair messed up completely. They went in hoping to go blonde and ended up red or wanted their natural nails painted and styled, but the manicurist does such a bad job that they have to have acrylics to cover up the damage.

 

 photo courtesy of Beaudenoir at stockxchng

Women keep going back, though, because the place is great for covering their asses when they screw up. Women actually leave believing that the place saved them from what they actually wanted (and would have looked far better on them). Not to mention the free drink! It's almost perfect.

In the other salons, women go in and while a few have to go to the popular salon to get a mistake fixed up, the vast majority come out happy and with the hair and nails that they wanted--or even better than they expected.

Would you recommend the popular salon? Wouldn't you try to stop your friends and family from going there, knowing what a terrible experience so many other people report having?

 

photo courtesy of stockxchng

Unless you're a contrary person and/or refusing to follow the analogy, you probably just said, "Of course not!"

Now, I chose hair salon because I always have freaking awful experiences at the ones I can afford and most people will use one at some point in their life. But any business where that sort of thing went on, we would find unacceptable and try to warn the people we care about to stay away from. It would be really frustrating watching friend after friend go in anyway and end up with the same experience. Can you imagine all the times you had to bite your tongue because their hair looked mediocre or worse, but they were trying to only see the positive in it?

Well, if you add in the number of women and babies who are injured or who die who shouldn't, that is where the intense passion comes from. It's not just about the NCB advocate's own experiences (which are subject to far more ridicule and judgment than any other mother's birth choices), it's about protecting every woman's experience. It's about protecting the people we love and the loved ones of others as well.

That isn't to say that there aren't beautiful births that have necessary interventions, pain medication or happen surgically! The NCB is never speaking against necessary deviations, but those which could be avoided. Very often, we started out at the popular salon ourselves and that's why we recommend the others. Out of love.

Stop Emotional Labeling of Food

 

photo courtesy of aschaeffer at stockxchng

So, food and I have issues. For one, I do not like to be seen eating, because I feel that everyone equates being fat with eating. As a teenager, this translated into skipping months eating more than a meal a day (sometimes not that much) for fear of being judged for eating. I don't have a problem eating in a group as long as everyone else is eating, because it's like I'm camouflaged.

This stems to a lot of emotional language linked to food as I grew up. My mom 'rewarded' us with 'treats' and when I was eating when she wanted me to be doing something else, she would yell at me for "stuffing/feeding my face."

As a result, I have a lot of guilt when I eat. I feel like food is something you have to 'earn' and eating is a waste of time and money. My feelings only apply to me, however. I know all of the above is utter garbage, but it's so ingrained into me from years of emotional food language that I can't separate it in regards to myself.

All of this was brought up from reading one of the latest Guinness World Records: The World's Heaviest Woman. I'm far, far from there (and doubt she's the actual record holder, but she is the one willing to step forward... figuratively), but her story made me so sad that I finally had to write all of this down.

I try very hard to avoid emotional language and connections to food with my children. Fighting is not allowed while we are eating. Guilt is not allowed while someone is eating. Behaviors are not rewarded with food and food is not taken away as punishment (the old 'sent to bed without dinner'). Food is used as what it is: a necessary energy/nutrient supply. Yes, it should taste good, too.

I think it's very important to avoid comforting and rewarding with food. Just as important is to avoid shaming with food and associating food with guilt and shame. Both anorexia and emotional eating stem from these associations. (Of course, body image issues also contribute, but so much of that is societal, and this is something parents can control)

I think a lot of this is also hard for those whose love language is Acts of Service, especially those of us who got our cup filled by those special moments with grandma or whoever gave us 'special treats.' Those are also dangerous for the future adult, as they are emotionally associated with a positive memory and thus, can be used for comfort later. Ways to avoid this? Certainly don't spoil special moments with grandma! But, also make sure that grandma/grandpa/auntie isn't the only one giving the favorite food if it's something that would be especially unhealthy to indulge in in times of emotional distress. Find a middle ground, of course, even if that means suggesting grandma stick to fruits or letting kids have cookies at home--without emotional baggage attached.

My weight problems actually have little to do with food and more to do with me not being active enough, but they were actually begun with an attack of genetics mixed with my body's withdrawal from Ritalin, which I was on for ADHD as a child and stopped cold turkey when I was 12, resulting in me doubling my weight in the next year (not knowing about the side effects of stopping so suddenly or having had an appetite in years--I was severely underweight). The next attack on my body was being on depo provera (on which, I gained 75lbs) for two years.

And, of course, a note that comforting a baby/toddler/preschooler with nursing is not even close to the same as using food.

Your Baby

originally posted on cafemom Jun 30, 2008 at 2:18 PM

photo by SUNCHASERS

You are the first person your baby will ever love (even if you share that with Daddy, Grandma or Aunt, etc.).

Your baby doesn't care if you put on makeup in the morning.

Your baby doesn't care if you wear your pajamas (or nothing) all day long.

Your baby doesn't care how you sing--to him, you are the greatest singer in the world, even if you've been told you can't carry a tune in a bucket or had your significant other ask you not to sing in the shower.

Your baby doesn't care what music you like--you have the best taste in the world.

Your baby doesn't care how old you are.

Your baby doesn't care how much you weigh.

Your baby doesn't care what you look like at all--you are as beautiful to your baby as she is to you--maybe even more so.

Your baby doesn't compare you to other moms.

Your baby doesn't care if you know the 'right' words to her favorite lullaby.

Your baby doesn't care if your bed isn't made.

Your baby doesn't care if your towels match.

Your baby doesn't care if your socks match.

Your baby doesn't care if your sink is shiny.

Your baby doesn't care if you sleep 14 hours a day--as long as you sleep with him (or when he does).

Your baby doesn't care what car you drive.

Your baby doesn't care what shoes you wear.

Your baby doesn't care if your clothes came from a fashion designer or the thrift store.

Your baby doesn't care if his clothes came from the thrift store!

Your baby doesn't care about the size of your breasts or your butt.

Your baby doesn't care if you don't 'do' your hair.

You tell the world's best jokes, to your baby. You make the funniest faces, the greatest sounds.

Your baby doesn't care if you missed your shower.

Your baby doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

So why should you?

All your baby cares about is that you love her or him and keep him or her safe, well-fed, comfortable and wrapped in your love.

All your baby cares about... is you.

Photo courtesy of stockxchng

The Difference of a Midwife

So, with my first pregnancy, I wanted a midwife, but between bad information and some bad luck, I was unable to get away from the obstetrician (that I originally hired because I thought that was just what you did). It's something I really regret. On my first appointment, she made me cry by telling me that I had basically no control over who would be at my birth (or be putting their hands inside me).

I figured, okay, well, I guess that's how it is at OB practices. But appointment after appointment, she spent the time working on trying to make me afraid that this or that could happen. I was told not to read anything about pregnancy/birth or to participate in my Due Date Club (all of which I ignored, of course). She read my birth plan in front of me, told me everything was good, went over it and approved it.

Then, around 36 weeks, she freaked out over my use of the term 'emergency' to say that was the only time I would agree to a cesarean. Like most women who had never been to medical school, I had no clue that the obstetric definition of 'emergency' was a far cry from the average person's. And rather than just try to explain, she blew up and went on a rant and when my husband tried to calm her down by asking what the risks of an actual emergency cesarean were, she announced that it was basically guaranteed with "someone like [me]."

She continued with ignoring the whole agreement we had that we would not discuss induction before 42 weeks--she started pressuring me to induce at 38 weeks. I agreed to a sizing ultrasound and she was disappointed to see that it did not agree with her assertion that I'd have some gargantuan giant (with no medical reason to believe that I would). She was frustrated that I wouldn't let her control my birth and she took it out on me and tried to frighten me into it as much as she could (all the while trying to sound reasonable, kind and caring). If I hadn't had the awesome, supportive community of natural mama friends that I had, I might have been beaten down.

So, I think you can understand why I was wary in my second pregnancy and going to an OB, even if it was a new one. Due to insurance issues (screw ups in the administration part of it), it was 20 weeks before my first appointment. Every appointment, I was stressed and worried and sure that the First OB from Hell would reappear in the skin of my new OB. But time and time again, he was a great doctor, involved my daughter in appointments and was quite a CNM in OB clothing.

I had my VBAC with him and while I have some complaints about how I was treated by the staff, I don't have any complaints about my doctor. But I didn't want to birth in a hospital again. I didn't want to do the whole cycle of fear all over.

While I was recovering from trauma from my second daughter's labor and postpartum period, a friend had a wonderful announcement: a new birth center was being opened in my city. I was so excited. As people talked about the midwife who worked there, my excitement just climbed. No one had anything negative to say about her and really, she sounded too good to be true.

Still, I sent her an e-mail asking some questions about insurance, VBAC, etc. and was even more excited by her answers. She took my insurance, she was planning to take VBACs, it was all a go! Honestly, that was the last bit that I needed to heal and be prepared to get pregnant again.

Fast forward to my first appointment. I felt no fear as I approached the building. No trepidation, no sense of 'this person is going to hurt me, take my autonomy and make me cry.' It was an amazing feeling. I'm sure that the birth center being in an old house really helped--no sterile, cold office to make me feel separate and subject to someone else's will.

First, there was a living room for a waiting room. Not that there was much waiting--it was more to give the kids a place to play and my husband somewhere to sit comfortably with them where he didn't have to feel like he was dodging around being in the way (a constant concern of his).

The kids immediately connected with the midwife and her assistant and frankly, so did I. There were these magical words coming out of her mouth--it was like I was in Bizarro world. "You'll be expected to eat and drink to comfort in labor." "We don't cut the cord until it's done pulsing." "No one's going to be telling you when to push, we want you to listen to your body." "You'll be catching your own baby." (This was after I mentioned how much that meant to me with my VBAC)

There was a birthing pool in the room where the appointment took place. I sat on a real bed, not some table-bed thing. Normal sphygmomanometer, normal doppler (although the assistant was amazingly gentle with it--I'm used to the doppler wand making me kind of sore--and she found my baby's heartbeat at 10 weeks, which I didn't think would be possible!), O2 tank hidden off but available, etc. The safety measures available, but not obvious (and I don't mean not obvious by how they are kept in cabinets in the hospital, etc. -- actually not obvious).

My kids were included in what was going on. At my last appointment, my oldest was taught how to pump the sphygnomanometer and today, she and her sister both got to pump it up most of the way before the assistant needed to take over and get the actual reading.

Then everyone took turns listening to my heart.

And each other's:

Seriously, a picture is worth a thousand words. When are you ever going to see the scenes above at an OB's office? And an appointment isn't the same either. Today was my glucose test and it was probably the longest I ever waited--about ten minutes--while I paced around, letting my grape juice burn off (as being stationary is bad for the test!) and poked around the rooms (which is when I saw the O2 tank for the first time, actually) curiously. I've had the pleasure of watching the birth center be turned into the lovely building that it is now, since it was so new when I first started coming.

While my daughter shot darts at the door under the encouragement of my midwife and her sister laughed, stealing them and running back to Daddy, we talked about diet (protein, protein, protein!), concerns, where I'd want to transfer if I had preterm issues (my concern I brought up today), how to effectively communicate in labor and dealing with trauma from previous births.

At our last appointment, we talked about music and their available equipment for listening to it and the variety that mamas brought in. She also talked about my birth stories (which she read here on the blog) and how we could most effectively get me the birth I wanted (and she met my doula).

It's such a huge difference--I feel like a person, not a patient. My kids feel welcome and I'm really looking forward to birthing there. I don't feel like I have to make a plan to protect myself from staff--I know the 'staff.' It's my midwife, her assistant and my doula. It won't be whoever's on call at the time with mostly nurses taking care of me with the luck of the draw.

So, for me, there's been a huge difference and definitely a greater happiness and satisfaction with my care in this pregnancy. Not just the difference of a midwife, but the right midwife. And that's something I wouldn't trade for anything right now.