Tag Archives: birth

A’s birth story

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A was born at 7:44pm on December 5th, 2019. He was due on December 1st, although an early ultrasound read a Nov. 30th due date, I rounded “late” to give myself more time. I did the same last year with L. Given a family history of long gestations and big birth weight babies, I wanted to avoid induction pressure as much as possible, while still being relatively accurate and medically responsible. I was in labor with L on his due date—not late at all! However, during this pregnancy, I was bombarded with so many stories of people barely making it the hospital with their second babies and stories of early babies that, despite knowing better, I began to think that I might have a quick, early labor with this baby too. But first, let me back up.

I found out I was pregnant around the middle/end of March 2019. (A few days before, I had submitted an application for my dream job in Oregon.) I was still nursing 8 month old L around the clock and had not yet start my period. So, my only indication of pregnancy was implantation cramping, which happens during a very specific window of time after conception, and, in my body, is a very specific feeling that I’ve only felt twice. Thinking of it now, I cannot draw up the memory of the feeling. But, I know it when I feel it. I noted the date, told T I thought I might be pregnant, and loaded L in the car and made the drive from Driggs, ID to my home in Utah. Around that time, I had also just received word that Grandpa H was dying of kidney failure. Mom met me in Utah, and we began a week of tender visits with Grandpa as his kidneys failed, and then he passed away. Privately, I began taking pregnancy tests and saw that first faint line get darker with each test. I told both T and my mom. Although this pregnancy was a surprise and came to me much faster than my first pregnancy, I felt strongly that this was a precious miracle baby, and I was grateful for the timing. Questions about if and when to have a second child were suddenly no longer a concern. This was how it would happen. This was the answer.

Shortly thereafter, in mid-April, we made our first trip to Louisiana with L. The trip went well, but I felt that first trimester exhaustion and had an upset stomach the entire time—something I never felt with my first pregnancy. When we returned, I had my first prenatal appointment, where the due date was confirmed, and we did prenatal testing to find out, “It’s a boy!” Around this time, I also learned that I was a finalist for the job in Oregon. So, once again, I packed up L, and we made the long trek to Oregon. I felt great the day of the job interview, but it was taxing. I continued to struggle with first trimester exhaustion, upset stomach, and also scheduled nursing sessions with L throughout the day.

Shortly after returning from Oregon, in early June, I was offered the job. I accepted, and by mid-June, I made arrangements to put my house in Utah on the market, with a goal to sell it within a month. That process required cleaning and trips to Utah and packing up my life (once again). My mom came for another visit, which coincided with my uncle Roger’s sculpture reveal at This is the Place Park in Utah. Mom helped me pack, then T came to Utah at the end of July to help finish packing and load my belongings into storage pods, which would be shipped to Oregon. During this time, I was also house shopping in Oregon, via video walkthroughs with the realtor and my mom’s visits to properties. I made a few offers, until finally finding the home I would buy at a great location.

I spent the rest of the summer enjoying my time in Idaho with L, taking long walks in the stroller with him and generally enjoying the slower pace that life there affords. In mid-August, I found childcare in Oregon and moved in with my mom temporarily while I began working at my new job. I also saw the house that I was in the process of buying for the first time. Buying the house ended up having several unforeseen setbacks, and the one month I was supposed to stay with my mom turned into three months. I had repairs and updates completed, and I moved in during my third trimester, only a month or so before A was born, with the help of my mom and T and other family members.

I mention all of this to indicate the intensity of this entire pregnancy. While staying with my mom, L and I shared a small bedroom. He began daycare for the first time, he caught every cold imaginable, and so did I. Antibiotics were even required at one point, and while I was sick, I had regular, painful contractions that made me wonder if my baby would arrive early. T was also supposed to arrive and stay about a month before the due date. However, work obligations kept him away several weeks longer than anticipated.

In the final weeks of pregnancy, I felt huge. I was huge, gaining 65 pounds this time. By far the most difficult part was caring for L while pregnant. Tasks like lifting him, changing him, getting him in and out of the car seat, and putting him in this crib sometimes felt impossible. I held him not on my lap, but beside me now—a emotional transition as I began to feel what it would be like to not be able to fully baby my first baby as much as I had in the previous year and a half.

My due date came and went. At the 38 week mark, I began nesting and became much more motivated to finish unpacking the house. The few weeks previously were spent moving and unpacking too, but I was tired and less motivated. In the last few weeks of pregnancy, I’d finished enough of the interior of the house to feel satisfied and ready for baby.

The due date came and went. I felt uncomfortable at night, tossing and turning, but never went in to labor. At 36 weeks, I was dilated 2-3 cm. At 40 weeks, I was dilated to 4cm. One night, near my due date, I had a wave of hormonal nausea and a painful contraction, followed by another painful contraction. I told T that I felt certain I was in labor, and I tried to sleep. I awoke the next morning. Contractions had faded away. I wasn’t in labor after all.

At around 2:20am on Thursday, December 5th, I woke up feeling uncomfortable. I was struggling with the bedsheets and felt a pop or a shifting in my uterus. Steady, painful contractions started right away. After about an hour, T and I made our way to the hospital, while Mom stayed home with L. I arrived around 4am and was at 4-5cm. About an hour later, I asked for an epidural and the anesthesiologist arrived around 6am. Contractions were not regular (between 3-7 minutes) and never established a regular pattern, which is what happened last time too. I couldn’t talk during the contractions and had to moan and close my eyes and sway to get through them. The anesthesiologist encouraged me to get the epidural then based on my pain level. However, the epidural was not so easy. This time, the anesthesiologist was unable to easily place the epidural. This was not a problem last time, but this time they thought it might be cause of mild scoliosis, which was the first I’d ever heard of it. I did get a severe headache last time, which doctors thought might’ve been the beginnings of postpartum preeclampsia, but the anesthesiologist felt certain that it was a spinal headache. My last epidural did leave my legs completely paralyzed for the duration of the epidural, so I guess that’s not normal.

After three attempts, a second anesthesiologist was brought in. She was tried a fourth time, and then was able to place it the fifth time. (She said it would be her last attempt.) I was so, so grateful that it was finally successful! Especially since I ended up having another very long, slow labor, just like last time. It was definitely not the fast second baby that so many had warned me of. My mom showed up at the hospital around 9am, after getting L ready and taking him to daycare, where he would spend the night, since baby arrived at 7:44pm, which was after L’s bedtime, and the following day. It felt hard to have L spending the night away for the first time, but it was our only option, and at least he was familiar with the daycare.

After the epidural was set, I waited and rested. There was talk of breaking my water (more) because it might have already broken a little. There was talk of Pitocin, which I eventually got, because my labor stalled out again once I had the epidural. After a long day, with little progress, the obgyn came to the hospital after a full day in the clinic and had me labor in hands and knees (more like child’s pose) since I had so much more sensation and mobility with my legs with this epidural. Then, she was going to break my water, but baby had shifted, and she didn’t feel comfortable doing it. After laboring awhile longer, she broke my water. A short time later, I was complete and able to start pushing. Although I had spoken to the obgyn about it, and the birth team, and put it in my birth plan, I was cued to curl around my baby and do purple pushing. Personally, I hate this method of pushing. I feel no leverage in the lithotomy position, and it feels like a frustrating and an unproductive waste of energy. I tried pushing in this way again, at the insistence of everyone in the room, but felt nothing but lack of oxygen and straining in my face and neck.

The obgyn suggested the squat bar, since I had so much mobility in my legs. This pushing felt very productive. After one push, I felt baby’s head move down significantly. I told everyone that the push felt productive. I was then made to lie back after the contraction. Lying back felt unnecessary and bad because baby’s head was descending so much now. With the second contraction, I got up on the squat bar and pushed the baby’s head out. At that point, the medical staff started yelling at me to stop and to lay back. Again, this did not feel good. I could tell that something was wrong, and they began to break down the bed and prepare for delivery. Since this was expected to be such a big baby, I guess they thought that pushing would take awhile. In the meantime, I wasn’t sure what was wrong. I wasn’t too worried, but I was hyper focused. I thought maybe the baby was a surprise breach. Once they were ready, they began yelling at me to push again. Afraid of what was going on, I pushed with all of my might. I knew I was tearing. I knew it was going too fast. I knew that if I could go slower and ease my baby down, it would be better, but I felt I had no other choice but to listen and push because my baby might be in danger. Within just a push or two, trying with all of my might to get the baby out, my baby slipped out of my body and into this world.

I said I wish I’d been allowed to stay in the squatting position. The obgyn said she couldn’t deliver a baby upside down. I said, you might’ve surprised yourself. The obgyn said the urgency was that the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. However, later my mom told me that the urgency was that the umbilical cord actually came out first, which can also be dangerous. Despite some lingering bad feelings about the pushing and delivery, the mood in the room was pleasant and celebratory. I would have guessed the baby was having breathing problems because he didn’t seem to cry or breath as much as L did when he was born. However, L was the one that needed oxygen, while this baby was fine. It just goes to show that I’m not a baby doctor, and mother’s intuition is not always right. This baby’s face was quite swollen. His hair was dark. He looked very different than his brother did at birth. He weighed 9 lbs 10.2 oz and was 21.5 inches long. He felt so tiny in my arms. It was hard to believe he was actually slightly bigger at birth than his brother was. How are they ever this small? It’s impossible to remember, until a new baby is placed in your arms again.

I held him, and within the first few hours, he began to nurse. As is common with big babies, he had low blood sugar and needed to be supplemented with small amounts of formula. I felt that the hospital’s standard for blood sugar, hydration, and bilirubin was impossibly high and that most babies probably have to get formula while there, which makes me feel sad for all of the breastfeeding mamas in there. Since this was my second baby, I felt less stressed about formula derailing breastfeeding. But, it was a stressor nonetheless.

L came to meet his brother the next evening. He was sweet and curious. We left the hospital the following day, without a name. Going into labor, we had a few top contender names picked out, but after 48 hours, none of them seemed right. After a few days at home, and a lot of work, and deliberation on our part, we finally found his name.

This baby came to me easily, naturally, and without any effort. I knew my body in birth better, so as labor unfolded, it felt familiar. Breastfeeding, sleeping, holding, even moving my own body was easier and more familiar the second time around. I didn’t yet know him, but he smelled and felt perfect in my arms, and I loved spending hours with him snuggled up against my belly while he slept—easy love.

looking for signs

I’m pregnant, and before I was pregnant, I imagined that I would document the experience thoroughly in writing, since it’s my mode of processing, communicating, and creating. But, I haven’t wanted to write much about the experience, and I’m not exactly sure why. I think it’s because I have no words. I’m impressed with women who can write about pregnancy and the journey to motherhood. However, most of what’s written is more matter of fact or medical or humorous. To me, the experience isn’t entirely any of those things–it certainly isn’t medical and it isn’t funny. It’s a completely physical and spiritual thing. It’s so entirely unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced that, like I said, I have no words. I can say that I love being pregnant. I’m one of the lucky ones who actually feels better pregnant–warmer, stronger, more connected. There’s also a delightful and ongoing sense of celebration between me, my family, friends, and even with smiling strangers out in the world. More than that, though, I am awestruck. Constantly. Every day.

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a crop of my bump from my maternity photo shoot

Now that I am nearing the end of my pregnancy, I finally (after a busy move, and travel, and prepping a house and nursery, and work) find myself with long days of solitude. These are perhaps the last days I’ll have to myself for a very long time, and certainly they are the final days as my old self–the self before I am a mother and before I am always and forevermore caring for a child on the outside. I am savoring this time. I’m enjoying long quiet days, where I can indulge my whims moment to moment. And in these moments, I find myself looking for signs. First, what day will the baby arrive? Do I inherently know? I find myself looking at the dates on the calendar, each neutral and blank. One of these days will be the day that I experience childbirth for the first time. One of these days will be my son’s birthday. One of these days will be recognized now for the rest of my life.

I try to walk for a few miles on a beautiful trail that skirts the lake each morning before it gets too hot. Each day, I become more familiar with the route. I watch as new wildflowers bud out and bloom. I see new animals: birds, cows, horses, and deer. I notice plants that I think are sunflowers. After a few more days, I confirm that they are sunflowers. Then, I hope I will be able to see them bloom. I wonder if they will bloom before the baby is born. They begin to bloom. I step out of the shower and rub lotion over my belly. I put on a pair of underwear that I like. Will I be wearing these underwear when I go into labor? Will they be ruined?

Each day, there are more signs and questions. If I am to examine my intuition closely, I would say that I still have time, that birth is not exactly imminent. I still have a “to do” list that I’m working through slowly, but steadily. For now, I am satisfied to remain pregnant. I feel big and hot, but good and vital and very alive and still very comforted to have my son growing safely inside me.

L&D and another birth

Last week, I oriented myself to the labor and delivery area of the hospital, which was the final step before officially starting as a volunteer doula. I figured out where I could get water, ice, sheets, towels, washrags, birth balls, and grape syrup (which is the only (unsatisfying) addition to ice chips that epidural moms are allowed throughout their entire labor).

During the orientation, I was able to apply some comforting counter-pressure to a young mother whose epidural was taking awhile to kick in. I made attempts at Spanish conversation with her parents. Note to self: I must review key terms in Spanish for labor and delivery.

In the end, I spent most of my* time with the only mother on the floor who was doing an unmedicated birth. When I met the couple, I was really struck by how relaxed they were. We tried some of the tips for “getting labor started” and chatted for quite a bit. I didn’t realize until later that we were building a relationship that would come in handy the next day!

The following day was my first official day to volunteer. Not surprisingly, the same woman I’d worked with the previous day had not yet delivered and said she would like to have a doula. I arrived and spent about half of the day with the couple–through labor, delivery, recovery, and first breastfeeding.

I’m learning more and more about who I am as a doula. I’m also developing strong opinions about the kind of care a laboring and postpartum mother should receive. For instance, my training in yoga is so strong that I have a hard time encouraging a woman to push if she is not feeling the urge. I’m more about encouraging her to do what her body tells her (if you’ve ever taken a yoga class, you’ll know what I’m talking about). There will be times when I will need to cue pushing–especially with epidurals because they numb the urge to push. But as of right now, it just hasn’t seemed like my role.

I’ve also been able to see firsthand one of the other huge benefits of unmedicated labor and delivery (the kind of benefit that could change the world for the better), which is that women get a glimpse at how powerful they are. When that strength is unecessarily numbed, women can miss out on experiencing their potential. My disclaimer to this of course is that epidurals have their place and are appropriate for some women in some situations. However, as a culture I think we are far too quick to numb ourselves from feeling and experience. When we open ourselves up to that experience, we have the potential to access something really powerful.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, I’m a bit surprised by how quickly this is taking off for me. So far, I’m still really enjoying it, and I think I’m well suited for the work.

*When I blog about births that I attend, I’m mostly just talking about my experience and how I felt as the attending doula. I’ll leave it to the moms to tell the rest of the story if they wish.