Get your tissues ready...

Today...my baby turns 5.

*SOB!*

This seems like the biggest milestone birthday we've had with her since she turned 1. I'm not entirely certain why, but it does feel more significant in some way.

It's a Wednesday, just like May 18th was back in 2011. Do you know who else has a birthday on May 18th? St. John Paul II, baby!!!! I was pleased with my body for giving me that small victory.

At any rate, this was the scene, 5 years ago...

(go grab your tea ;-))

Tuesday, May 17th, 2011, I was at work. I always worked right up until I went into labor because I am incredibly anal really needed the distraction. :0 My due date wasn't until May 23rd, so I figured I may work the entire week. My colleagues all knew that my date was really close, though of course no one obsesses over that date as much as the pregnant woman herself. Hence, that Tuesday morning I waddled into the reference office, and am greeted by the following:

"Oh. You're STILL HERE?"

All you women out there who have been, or are, pregnant, let us rally together, yes? Saying the above to a pregnant woman is akin to an obscene gesture. Do you think she WANTS to be there? I assure you, SHE DOES NOT. By the ninth month of pregnancy, everything hurts, your belly feels like it is the size of Madagascar, you haven't slept well in nearly a year, and you would sacrifice an appendage just to have the baby OUT NOW.

"You mean you haven't had the baby yet?!"

It took every ounce of willpower not to reply: "Does it LOOK LIKE I've had the baby?!"

*glares*

All of this is to say that I was just a HAIR cranky on the evening of Tuesday, May 17th. I was uncomfortable, I was irritable, and I really wanted a drink. Mike gently suggested that maybe I should call in sick to work the next morning, and I porkily contemplated that possibility as I tossed and turned for the entire night, unable to sleep well. At one point, I went downstairs to read for a bit and try to doze off, but that went over about as well as you would expect.

*glares again*

About 5 am I went back up to bed with Mike, to at least be more comfortable even if I wasn't able to sleep. If you can believe it (snort, I'm certain that you can, given what you know about me) I had decided to go into work, given that I was scheduled for the 9 am reference shift, when suddenly at 6:15...

My water broke. Much rejoicing was heard across the land.

Mike made arrangements for Henry while I paced around the house like a caged animal. I called the doctor, who told me to go to the hospital right away given that my water had broken. I made general noises, concluded the call, and stayed home for another two hours. :0 I wasn't in active labor yet, and the last place I wanted to be was the hospital. I had done this before, and thus I knew that some of the things they do in the hospital have the effect of actually slowing your labor DOWN, and that's the last thing I wanted.

Mike took Henry to his grandparents, and then we ate breakfast. Mike showered while I paced up and down the stairs. I waited until I had regular, uncomfortable contractions before we finally headed to the hospital around 10 am.

Once there, they did the hospital thing, which I hate, but I was prepared for this time. I was much more proactive in my labor with Anne than I was with Henry, standing and moving around as much as possible to keep the contractions going. I kept visualizing the contractions bringing the baby into my arms, and using my belly dancing breathing, and it worked like a charm.

By shortly after 1 pm, I was in transitional labor, and I knew I was close. I delivered her about 1:45.

I remember the moment she was born very clearly. I thought to myself:

"Thank God I'm not pregnant anymore!"

That's really what I thought. :0

In contrast to Henry, who was silent at birth, and had to be coaxed to cry, Anne was *screaming* before she was even fully out of the womb. Harbinger of things to be come, to be certain. She was also extremely goopy with vernix when she was born, and the doctor hadn't announced her sex right away. We didn't find out at our ultrasound, just to wait for this moment. Mike made a query to the doctor, who responded:

"Oh. I'm not sure yet."

That's really what she said. :0

Anne was squalling so much, and being hosed down to get the goop off, that it was hard to see anything. Then the doctor flopped her over, and announced that she was a girl.

Here she was, May 18th, 2011:

And this morning:

The birthday girl. *eyes well up*

Last night, Anne came up and hugged me. I told her that I loved her, and that when she came into our family, she really brightened our lives. And I mean it. She really, truly did. And she replied:

"I love you, Mom. And Frankie."

So, me, and a random neighborhood cat. I guess I'll take it. ;-)

I'm feeling a little emotional today, but in an incredibly good way. Life is good, it is really, really good, and I can never thank God enough for it.

Everybody can breathe a sigh of relief...

...my Downton Abbey Season 3 DVD set has shipped. If it hadn't by the time I left for home tonight, I would have become convinced that my beloved Amazon hated me, was trying to smite me, and generally was trying to ruin my life. I would have contemplated another panic-stricken phone call to customer service. But happily, that is all avoided now. Really though, this tested my patience. I've never had to wait this long for a pre-ordered item to ship before. Even Amazon is human, I suppose.

In the mean time, Mike and I have been watching another BBC show in the evenings, Call the Midwife, about a small group of Anglican nuns and lay nurses who serve some of London's poorest women in the late 1950's. It's quite good. I definitely get emotional watching this show, and nightly I tell Mike exactly when I'll next be fertile so that we can make another adorable baby like the ones we're seeing on this show. Oh wait, I'm digressing again.

Anyway, this is a very thought-provoking show. Can I just say that I'm extremely grateful that certain dated childbirth practices are no longer in current usage? Holy smokes. On the positive side, I do think the show sends a good message about home births. An uncomplicated pregnancy can very much result in an uncomplicated home birth for many, many women.

Good stuff. Some of the story lines are heartbreaking though, and this is based on a true story.

*sniffles*

We'll be done watching Season 1 tomorrow. I'm hoping that Downton arrives for a grand viewing Saturday night, but I don't know. You can bet that I'll be obsessively taking advantage of the tracking number between now and then.

"Would you do it again?"

I'm at our home computer, nursing Baby CL, so I thought I'd start to compile my thoughts of her birth last week. This may be the first in a series of posts :) Lots of childbirth stuff in the coming days, sorry! Eventually, I'll move on to something else, rest assured.

Anyway, all of the nurses at the hospital, and my doctor, were all very interested in the fact that I'd had an epidural with my first birth, and went unmedicated with my second. What they all wanted to know was:

Would I do it completely drug free again?

I thought that was a good starting point for this post. At first, I had to think about that question quite deeply. :) And right after the experience, I wasn't sure if I would again or not. I thought maybe yes, but I wasn't totally sold. 6 days later, the answer is abundantly clear.

YES. In a heartbeat, yes, yes, yes.

I'll briefly describe the two recoveries. With Henry, I needed a lot of assistance walking right after the birth. I was very disoriented and shaky. Due to the required cathetar, I had difficulty urinating for days. One full week later, I was still sitting on an eggcrate every day due to perineal discomfort, and walking with much difficulty. (I had a second degree repaired tear, exact same as I also received last week with Anne). I had major baby blues and cried everyday. I had a serious lack of appetite and lost my pregnancy weight almost unnaturally quickly.

Ok, so fast forward to last Wednesday. I had held Anne right away, until my doctor needed to stitch me. Once that was done, I held her again and nursed her right there. I felt HIGH from all the oxytocin and endorphins in my system, like I was drunk on some really, really awesome wine. :)

After that, Mike retrieved my parents from the waiting room, with a promise not to tell them the baby's gender so that I could do that in person (I figured I deserved that honor :) ). My parents came in, and I can't even tell you how much joy that experience brought me. We all held and cuddled the baby, cried tears of joy, and it was simply magnificent. I know how much it meant to my parents to be there during that special time (and Anne is my mom's middle name) and I wouldn't trade it for anything. My energy level was high and I felt fantastic.

After they left, the nurse assisted me out of the bed and into the shower, and I pretty easily scooted off the bed and into the bathroom. And oh, the shower. The first hot shower after you give birth is an orgasmic experience. :) Especially with those natural hormones running wild in your system. I felt like a million bucks.

The nurse got me all settled, and the pee issue wasn't even an issue. No trouble there. I was wheeled to my room where I ate happily. For the duration of my 2 day stay, I was up and out of bed, getting around easily, no eggcrate necessary. I ate like a champ, and used the loo without trouble. Mere days later, I've been walking the baby through the neighborhood and out and about. My baby weight is coming off easily, but my appetite is awesome. Breastfeeding seriously gets your waist back into shape and your uterus contracting back down (more difficult with second and subsequent births).

Physically, I feel like I could run a marathon. I could have gone to dance class last week! The recovery has been AMAZING. Words cannot express how much better I feel after this birth. There is no comparison. It was tough, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Granted, there are other factors. This labor was half the time of my first. Much easier on my body. (although the epidural CAN make your labor longer, it's true. But first babies just take longer as well). My body really knew what it was doing this time; it was a machine.

The epidural was the right choice for my first birth, which was long and diffcult. But this? This was wonderful. I'm SO glad that I did it.

Ok, and the nitty gritty? How bad was it?

Honestly, it wasn't that bad.

Don't get me wrong; it was BAD.

But it wasn't *that* bad. It was totally manageable, even transition, which I dreaded with everything I had. I remember the Piticon transition contractions from Hank (epidural had worn off) and I felt like I was getting hit by a mack truck. This time? No. Like I said, it really was manageable. The pushing was tough, so, so tough, and getting stitches in your lady parts with no anesthesia is no walk in the park either. But honestly, it's not that bad. One of the most difficult things you'll ever do, but you can do it, and it's worth it.

There is no shame in the epidural, and it can really ease a long and difficult labor. But I'm so glad I made this choice.

Now the baby blues? Unfortunately, I'm just susceptible to those, and here they are. I'm handling them much better this time, and I'll devote a whole post to that. But 80% of women get them, and I'm just one of them, drug-free or not.

So there you have it. I'll post more tomorrow. :) Until then! Just keep me in your prayers. The nights are tough over here, but we're hanging in there.

Well, today is my due date...

...and here I am, finally able to post my birth story of Baby CL. :) I have so, so much that I want to say, and I'm so grateful that I now have this blog to keep a journal record of my feelings and experiences right after the event. What I'll do today is just post about the birth, and then tomorrow or Wednesday I'll write up how I feel that everything went, and my reflections. So, settle in; this will be an epicly long post. :)

Last Wednesday, May 18th, I had planned to blog about how very cranky I was getting. :) I was miserable at work, with the constant (though, of course, well intentioned) questions about why I was still there, hadn't I had the baby yet (have you seen my belly? obviously not), how large I was getting, etc. were starting to get to me. Obviously, I wasn't my usual chipper self, and so I was contemplating taking the rest of the week off as sick days just to get a little rest and relaxation at home with Mike prior to the baby's arrival.

Thus, Tuesday night I went to bed, well, cranky. To add to the fun, I couldn't sleep. I got up at 1am to use the restroom and couldn't fall back to sleep, so I went downstairs with my book so that I wouldn't rouse Mike. I read for a bit, and finally fell asleep on the couch. Around 4, I woke up with a stiff neck, so I got up to go to the bathroom (AGAIN) and went back up to bed. Blessedly, I fell asleep.

I woke up at 6 (SIGH) needing to pee again, but I laid still, trying to stave it off so that I could rest until Hank woke up. Suddenly, I felt a gush of warm liquid run down my legs. If it had been a trickle, I would have worried that I'd just peed my pants (lovely) but I knew right away what this was, although my water never broke by itself with Hank. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

Right away, I leapt into crisis mode. What color was it? Well, I couldn't tell. I thought it was clear, and made a mental note. I took care of the issue, and rushed to the bedroom to tell Mike. Hank was just sleepily rousing, and thus chaos ensued. I could already feel the beginnings of some snappy menstrual-like cramping, and knew my time was limited. So, I quickly hopped online to post my vacation messages for work and to this blog :) and settled in to eat breakfast. I knew they wouldn't let me eat at the hospital, and that's one mistake I did not want to repeat this time around. Labor is a marathon; you need to prepare for it by giving your body strength.

I could still feel the contractions over a distracted breakfast, but shortly thereafter, as I was racing around answering a million Hank questions, getting dressed and straightening my hair (yes, I'm crazy) I noticed that I couldn't feel them anymore. UH OH. Well, I figured I'd call my doctor's office (instructions say to call if water breaks) to let them know I'm on the radar screen, and then walk up and down the stairs, etc., in an attempt to get the contractions back on track.

So I call. And they tell me to go to the hospital. I frown. I ask if I shouldn't stay home longer until my contractions are more powerful and frequent, and am told emphatically "no." Since my membranes ruptured, they want me to come in right away. I frown again, but thank them and sign off. Well, being the stubborn gal that I am, I do push their instructions just a hair. I didn't want to rush to the hospital to have them pushing Pitocin on me because I wasn't "progressing quickly enough." I stayed home for another hour and a half to walk up and down the stairs, pace a bit, and actually did some hip circles. Suddenly, I was back in business. They didn't hurt, but they did exist, so I was happy with that. We packed up Hank to head to his grandparents and were on our way. In the car, I continued to have these light and not-timeable contractions. As we dropped Hank off, I noticed that they picked up slightly, but they didn't really hurt; they just increased in uncomfortableness. I could still easily carry on a conversation with Mike in the car, and I do remember the ride fondly.

We arrive, and I instructed Mike to just park far so that I'd have a nice long walk in. We check in at the nurses station, and are led to the initial examination room. Everything is fine and dandy, and I change into the attractive hospital gown. My doctor (out of a practice of four) was the one on duty that day (yay) but she wasn't at the hospital yet, so I was led through a barrage of incoming questions (hadn't I pre-registered? Yes, but this doesn't stop them for asking you 30 minutes worth of questions, which are repeated 2 or 3 times, I swear it) by the charge nurse, and then examined by the resident midwife.

***TMI alert for the rest of the post*** I'll just warn you now. :) Stop reading if you like.

The day prior I had been 2.5-3 cm dilated, and 50% effaced (thinned). Upon arrival, I was 4 cm dilated and 80% effaced. I relaxed a bit, knowing that I was progressing despite the lack of painful contractions. At this point, it was only 10 am or so, and my water had only been broken for four hours.

And yes, the water. The hospital staff was quite obsessed with it. Apparently, my amniotic sac had indeed ruptured (no kidding) but only partially, not completely, and they were all concerned with what it was doing. I wasn't really sure why that mattered, but I humored them. The midwife did this test to assure it was amniotic fluid, and I was left in the exam room for quite a while as she verified it. During this time, I was starting to get more uncomfortable. I was encouraged by this, and eventually grew weary of sitting on that dumb little exam table. I shifted position a bit, and eventually just got off the damn thing and did some squatting and other positons on the floor.

Finally, the nuse and midwife reappeared, and asked me what I was doing. :) I answered with as much dignity as I could muster from down on my hands and knees on the floor. They assured me that they had a birthing room ready for me, and that I could move now. Happily, we moved to a birthing room.

That was around the time that I started getting cranky again. :) But it was all good. I was in the bed, hooked up to the fetal monitor, and feeling pissed. I loathe the fetal monitor, and wanted to take it off, because everything was going fine. But they wouldn't let me, because due to my shifting positions, the monitor kept interrupting, and they needed 30 straight minutes of monitoring before they'd take it off. During this announcement, at least 5 nurses came in to see some sort of "new system" that my labor/delivery nurse was entering me into in the computer, and I just wanted them gone. I was having to breathe through my contractions at that point, and the presence of anybody but Mike was pretty unwelcome.

My increased discomfort was clear, so the midwife came back in to re-examine me. I was already 6 cm dilated and 90% effaced. Things were really cooking. I was nearing transition, the hardest part of labor. Thus, they asked me if I wanted any pain relief. I said no, not at that time, which tied in nicely to them trying to give me IV fluids. I didn't want them, and they rightly reminded me that if I did change my mind and want the epidural, I needed at least a bag of fluids into me, which can take up to an hour. I told them that I understood that, but I was assuming the risk. They were very good about it, and didn't push the fluids again.

Meanwhile, I was continuing to hate the fetal monitor, and was tiring of getting tangled in the cords every time I tried to manuever. They still wouldn't let me take it off, but the nurse offered up a birthing ball, which I gratefully accepted. I sat on there for about 20 or 30 minutes, and by this point, I was needing to use my total focus to breathe through the contractions when they came. They didn't feel that long to me, maybe 30 seconds, but when I timed them, I realized that they were a full minute. A minute just really isn't that long, blessedly enough.

Soon, I tired of the birthing ball and just wanted to get in bed. I was starting to get the shakes, and I knew that was a sign of the Dreaded Transition. I did lie on my sides, and switched frequently, so I just went with it. I had prepared a special birth playlist on my iPod, and a recording of the rosary, but I ended up not using any of that stuff. The good old fashioned relaxation breathing got me through most of it, and then I moved on to moaning. Vocalizing really does help. I thought I'd be self-conscious about making noise, but in that moment, I totally wasn't. I just squeezed Mike's hand and moaned through them. Pretty soon, my doctor arrived, all perky. She's only slightly older than me, and has 2 young children. The first thing she said was:

"No epidural, huh?" with a teasing smile that said "what are you thinking, girlfriend?!" but it made me laugh. She examined me, and sure enough, I was at 8 cm and 100% effaced. I was almost there.

She encouraged me and left the room, and I just did my moaning thing, telling myself all the while that I was almost done. I did think about the epidural for a fleeting moment, but then I realized something: I had refused the fluids, and by the time they could get the quota into me, I'd be ready to deliver. Basically, I was screwed. :)

I was both chagrined and relieved. So, I pressed on. I had read that the urge to push is "unmistakable" so I kept waiting for that, but honestly, I never felt it. I did feel some pressure, but it wasn't what I'd call unmistakable, I was just finally at the point of dreading my contractions, moaning my little heart out until they were over, and ready to be done.

I reported my pressure feeling to the nurse, and the doctor came back in. I was 10 cm; "complete" and ready to push.

Well. I'll tell you like it is, I don't really hold back on here. I had read that pushing will relieve the pain. Unfortunately, I did not have that experience. :) Pushing HURT. Honestly, it was the toughest part, even more so than transition. I was on my side, and doctor told me to push from that position if I liked, so I did.

Big fat failure.

It HURT. And so I held back. She kept telling me that I had to push through the pain so that I could end it sooner, but that simply wasn't enough motivation for me. In contrast to my last birth, I could feel everything this time, and I could feel the baby's head in the birth canal. I knew I wasn't pushing hard enough, but hot damn, it sucked. :) I just wanted to be out of pain.

Finally, my doctor encouraged me to roll onto my back so that I could get my legs and pelvis wider, and she and the nurse really hit hard on the "pushing through pain as hard as I can" thing. The contraction came, and I just remember crying and chanting "I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T." Because it really felt like I couldn't. I'd push a bit, it would hurt like a bad word I won't even insinuate, and when I stopped I could feel the baby's head slide back down into my pelvis. For full disclosure, it felt like having the largest bowel movement in the known world, and as you can imagine, that doesn't feel very good at all. We went though a couple of contractions like this, and I really didn't know how I could do it. With Hank, I had pushed for 3 hours (that did suck worse, it is true) and this time it was maybe 15 minutes later. And already, the doctor was telling me that she could see the baby's head. This was good.

On the next contraction, I did my usual holding back thing (maybe I could just stay that way forever? I was willing, but I don't know if everybody else was) but there was progress, and my doctor hurriedly got on her scrub suit thing for the delivery. I heard my nurse call the newborn nursery and ask for somebody to come because "we're having a baby in birthing room 5!" and I knew I had to do it. There was no choice at this point.

The contraction came, and I braced myself. I pushed, to the boisterous encouragement of my doctor and nurse. I pulled the last thing out of my bag of tricks to get through, the most primitive urge of all: I screamed. Loud, and long and hard. Probably scaring the shit out of every pregnant woman on the floor. And I pushed. And I felt the burning "ring of fire" that I knew meant the baby's head was crowning. So I pushed harder, and well. It sucked, BAD. But I kept pushing, and I felt the baby's head finally pass through my perineum, and then the rush of relief as the doctor gently pulled the baby's shoulders and body free.

My eyes were squeezed closed for maximum screaming effort, and so I finally opened them for the first look at Baby CL. I remember that moment so vividly with Hank, seeing his little face held up for the first time, and the doctor announcing "It's a Henry!"

I opened my eyes. And saw the doctor deposit a little ball of goop right onto my belly. It was Baby CL, who was facing away from me, and covered with an unexpected amount of vernix. He or she didn't like the delivery anymore then I did, and lots of wailing was going on. Excitedly, I asked:

"Is it a boy or a girl?!"

And the doctor said:

"I'm not positive. Well, I need to check."

That's really what she said. She was busy with afterbirth stuff, and the vernix was obstructing the view a bit.

So, she checked. And finally, the big annoucement. :) Baby CL is a...


GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anne Therese, born just shy of 2pm on the afternoon of May 18th, 2011, weighing 7 lbs 14 ozs.

She's absolutely wonderful, and gave me one of the most transforming experiences of my life. I know that I'll never forget a single moment.

Today is the day...

...that will be my baby's birthday. :) My water broke around 6 am this morning (do I have no shame with these details?!) Please pray for me! I will post when I return from the hospital and I am up to it, but it will be at least several days.

Thank you!! I can't wait to post pictures of the much awaited Baby CL! *beams*

Hypnobirthing

Has anybody tried this? I just read the book, and thought I'd post my quick thoughts here.

So, the important disclaimer is that I did not attend any classes. And this does sound like a method in which the creator intends for you to receive in-person training. That being said, I read the book all the way through with interest, and I did take a few things away from it. Overall though, I don't feel like I "know" the method well enough to actually use it during my upcoming birth.

I'll start from the beginning. This is definitely a "crunchy" book, but it doesn't bang you over the head with it. I always appreciate that. The introductory section is a fascinating look back into childbirth of the 60's and 70's. The woman who created this method discussed her 4 birth experiences. She opted not to receive pain medication each time (which was really unheard of back then) and if you can believe this, for the first two, she labored unmedicated all the way through to the baby crowning, and then hospital staff would whisk her to a delivery room, strap down her arms and legs, force an ether mask onto her face, and then once she was unconscious, deliver her baby forcibly with forceps. Because that's just what they did back then. There was no concept of a woman pushing her baby out on her own. My own mom told me that about her birth with my older sister in 1970. "Oh, we'll take it from here, Honey." And then she woke up hours after the birth. I mean, I was flabbergasted. An unconscious vaginal birth? I had a hard time imagining this.

As if to add to the horror, the author also detailed how the baby was kept in the infant nursery at all times except for designated feeding times, and at those times, the fathers were not allowed to be in the room. So, a new mother would not see her baby until the day after she delivered, and then for 4-5 days (used to be the customary stay for a vaginal delivery) would be with her baby only a few times per day. The other times she had to see her baby only through the nursery windows. New fathers had no contact with their baby aside from the nursery window glimpses until mother and baby were released from the hospital. I mean, seriously?

I guess I'm a child of twenty first century childbirth, and so this boggles my mind. Although there is no technique presented per se in this information, it strengthened my fortitude to be grateful for the birthing choices we now have and to assert mine in the way that I desire when the big day arrives.

The author ultimately was able to birth her second two children on her own without the dreaded ether, and even have her husband present for the births, after finding a sympathetic doctor. But alas, both were still whisked to the newborn nursery and all that entailed.

At any rate, after the introductory information, the book addresses the main techniques of Hypnobirthing, which are breathing exercises, relaxation, and visual imagery/meditation. As I mentioned, I found it hard to understand all of the techniques just from reading the book. There is a CD included, and I plan to check that out. But overall, it kind of reinforced what I wanted to do anyway: breathing techniques, position changes, music for relaxation, and a mental focal point. I'm sure I'm missing the very essence of Hypnobirthing, which puts these all together in some unique fashion, but it's the best I can do with just the book.

Anybody else have insight on this particular method of natural childbirth?

Childbirth: I'm all refreshed

Last night, I attended my hospital's "Childbirth Refresher" class, and naturally, I'm here to provide all the details. We didn't have a babysitter, so Mike had to stay home with Hank. I was sad, but I gave him the blow-by-blow when I got home, so he didn't miss a moment, really. :)

Anyway, when I arrived, I turned in my pre-registration form (did this with Hank too, and it means you don't have to stop at Admissions when you're in labor), got some decaf, and headed down to the conference room. There was a lot of people there, and all had at least one other child at home. Most had delivered at this hospital. The instructor gave a good overview of the birthing process, some breathing and relaxation techniques, and the ins and outs of pain relief medication. What she advised was all of the things I've been reading about natural childbirth: change positions frequently (and she gave us a slew of different ones we could try), relaxation breathing (in through nose, out through mouth) and stay at home as long as possible.

Last time, like most first time mothers, I got to the hospital too early. At least, that's my opinion. My doctor felt I had progressed enough to admit me, but I was only 3 centimeters dilated, and thus I was not yet in active labor. I was having regular contractions, but they were not that intense and I could still easily talk through them. I resisted getting into positions in which the contractions hurt more because I was afraid of the pain. Hence, the introduction of Pitocin, and hence the introduction of the epidural, and hence it taking me nearly 3 hours to push Hank out because I could not feel the urge to bear down and push effectively.

This time, I'm very glad to have at least that one experience under my belt. I feel like I'm in a better position now to have the type of birth I'd like. Of course, the unexpected can always happen, but I'm feeling more confident.

Even during the birthing room tour, I didn't feel panicky like I did last time, when I realized that the next time I was there, I'd be in excruciating pain with people looking at me half undressed, neither of which puts me in any kind of comfort zone. I just felt better, and that makes me feel good.

Our instructor was also very positive about the birthing experience and how women have so many choices now in childbirth, even in a hospital environment. She said that the decision on inserting an IV line and electronic fetal monitoring were all up to our doctors, which I didn't know. I assumed it was hospital policy that dictated those things. The hospital does have walking monitors, and birthing balls and showers in every birthing suite, all of which made me happy. She also said that they emphasize mom/baby togetherness even more now than ever before, and have some new policies to reflect this. Following delivery, babies will remain with Mommy for a full hour. You can have skin-to-skin contact and breastfeed. After that, baby will go to the nursery to lay under the infant warmer for 2 hours, while the nurses assist the mom in getting a shower, stabilized, and transferred to the Mother/Baby Unit. Following that interval, baby will meet up with you and can be with you 24 hours hours a day, in what they call their "rooming-in" emphasis. This is totally different from when I had Hank.

I remember resenting the shower bullying right after I delivered Hank, but I now know that this is for a very legitimate medical reason. The time following childbirth (not during labor) is actually the most dangerous time of the process for the woman. They worry about postpartum hemorrhage at this juncture, and thus the nurses want to assure that your uterus is contracting back down properly, and that you're able to get up out of bed and walk around on your own, especially if you have had an epidural (which 80% of all women delivering in hospitals nationwide do). They also want you to be able to pass urine. The shower is kind of a nicey-nice way of them assuring that this is all happening as it should. Let's just say that peeing (or the other) after childbirth is nothing short of a terrifying prospect, and the warm running water can be a bit of a relaxing impetus, if you will.

I actually had no problem with any of the scenarios that were presented, aside from the continual fetal monitoring. In a low-risk pregnancy and delivery, that simply isn't necessary, and intermittant monitoring would be more than sufficient. But I can live with it, and the book she gave us showed some photos of women manuevering into different labor and birth positions all while strapped up to the monitor, so that made me feel better.

It was all very thought-provoking. The final thing that elicited a lot of response was the epidural video that we watched. I've had an epidural, and without a doubt worship the EPIDURAL GOD because I know what my labor felt like and what the subsequent epidural relief felt like. But even knowing all that, watching the video would make the most hardened epidural fan want to pass. :) It is a scary sounding procedure, and watching it is no walk in the park either.

I guess the key is: you just never know what your birth is going to be like. We all have a set of expectations, and it's easy to feel disappointed if this enormous life event doesn't go exactly as those expectations specified. I didn't want an epidural last time either; but given how my labor unfolded, I got one, and I don't regret it one bit. Is my anesthesiologist slated for canonization? If he's not, he should be.

Even thinking about those contractions now makes me break out in a cold sweat. Oh Mack truck, how nice of you to visit me again, so soon after your last departure. What was that? 60 seconds ago? I see that once again you're headed right for my abdomen...

I just remember the thought that went through my head. Because, in early labor, you'll think "oh, I can totally handle this." And you can, we all can. But once I was in active labor and that Pitocin was kicked on?

"THIS is what it feels like? For the love of GOD call the anesthesiologist!"

This is why I'm avoiding the Pitocin this time. Now I will grant, late active labor and transition contractions are going to be powerhouses even without the Pitocin, so I may be visiting with the friendly on-call anesthesiologist again 8 weeks from now. We'll see. But this time, I think I have more tools in my arsenal such that I have a better chance of staving it off. But if I feel that I need it, I'll get it. God bless modern medicine.

The one thing I'm not interested in is narcotics. Has anyone heard a single good thing about these? "Oh, they'll make you and the baby sleepy, but they won't take the pain of the contractions away?" Really? Then what good are they? For me, it's either nothing, or the epidural. No in between.

So, we'll see. Naturally, you will all know about my birth experience with a full minute-by-minute breakdown shortly following the big event. :) We'll see what the future holds, but I'm honestly excited to find out this time.

Is that the beginnings of an excruciating pain I feel?

I've been doing lots of childbirth reading and thinking these days. Right now, I'm perusing Pregnancy, Childbirth and the Newborn, by Penny Simkin et al. I'm really honing in on the types of relaxation and coping techniques that I'd like to employ. Basic stuff like changing positions, focusing your mind on a visual other than the pain, music. I'm compiling a "birth" playlist as I type.

Tangent: It got me to thinking about the time *after* childbirth and how totally innocuous items take on crucial new meaning in your life as you recover. Those of you who have delivered a baby will immediately know of what I am speaking. For instance, take the following list:

Pad
Ice Pack
Seat Cushion
Personal clothing items made of mesh
Squirt Bottle

See what I mean? To this day, I shudder even thinking about that little squirt bottle. /Tangent

At any rate, I like to think that this time, I'm *more* prepared, although nothing totally prepares one for this experience. I'm preparing for an unmedicated birth, and this time, barring unforeseen circumstances, I think I have a better shot at achieving that since I'm doing my homework ahead of time. I won't be devastated if it doesn't work out that way, but I'm very goal-oriented, and so I have a goal. To work toward this, I will do the following:

(1) Stay and labor at home as long as possible before traveling to the hospital. You are apt to feel much more comfortable in your own space, allowing your body to secrete its needed hormones at the necessary intervals. If you're anxious and feeling like your privacy is being invaded, your labor will slow down.

(2) Eat and drink prior to leaving for the hospital. This time, I know that labor is a marathon, not a sprint. Even if you're one of those women blessed with shorter than average labors, labor is still INCREDIBLY hard work. You need your physical strength to be up for the challenge.

(3) Be upright as much as possible. Lying in bed flat on your back never helped anyone give birth. Have you watched The Tudors? *shudder of horror* Good gracious. Their version of pain relief was stringing up an old bed sheet between the posts for her to grab onto. Getting out of bed was seen as the ravings of a crazy woman in need of immediate intervention. Although maybe not as "ladylike", squatting, standing/walking, and on hands and knees are much more efficacious positions to labor and deliver in.

(4) Bring some focus distractions. My iPod, some rosary beads, maybe some pictures of Hank.

(5) Inquire about the hospital policy on maximizing mobility with regard to IV fluids and external fetal monitoring. Last time, I felt tethered to my hospital bed, which certainly didn't aid my cause.

(6) Use any tool that the hospital provides, such as a tub, birthing ball and squatting bar.

(7) Realize that the pain in labor has a *good* purpose, and that it means that the baby is closer to being born. I've also read up on how long each stage of labor is, to help me mentally cope with them. For instance, transition is typically only between 4 and 20 contractions long. That is what I consider empowering information.

(8) Bring more modest coverings so that I won't feel so exposed and anxious. By this, I mean essentially my old tattered bathrobe. I have no problem with wearing hospital gowns (don't exactly want to expose my cute gowns to the various fluids involved in childbirth) but the "revealment of the backside" issue is plumb ridiculous. I'm asking for two, one for the front and one for the back, with the bathrobe to cover when I want to be on my hands and knees. If I feel exposed, I'm tense. And tense = stalled labor.

(9) Avoid Pitocin. This time, I'm going to trust myself and my body, unless there appears to be a problem I did not anticipate beforehand. Last time, I gave in to the Pitocin right away because I was scared and had no idea what having it would feel like.

I'm going to continue to work on these things over the next 3.5 months. I wouldn't ever take an important exam without studying, or climb a mountain without training, and I'm trying to see childbirth the same way. I'm going to put myself in as best a position as possible to succeed.

Many women tell me that they don't remember the pain of childbirth. That's how, well, they went on to have more than one child. :) But me, I have to admit, I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. The edge has been taken off of it a bit, since it's been over 5 years, but I have NOT forgotten the physical sensations that led me to get the epidural, nor the helplessness I felt after it wore off and I realized that I had no recourse but to curl in a fetal position clinging desperately to the rails of my bed to deal with the pain. And it went on for what felt like BLOODY EVER. I had a short time in transition and then a nearly 3 hour pushing stage without any pain medication.

It felt like...an 18-wheeler was driving through my abdomen at 90 second intervals. It sounds dramatic, but I remember actually closing my eyes and wishing that I was dead. It was bad.

Does that mean it'll be like that for you? Of course not. Every woman's body is different, and I've had several women tell me that labor was merely uncomfortable for them, not painful. Prepare, prepare, prepare. And try to go without that Pitocin. I really feel hopeful that this time, it'll be different.

I think one of the toughest things about childbirth (whether vaginal or cesarean section) is that no matter how supportive your partner is, no matter how great your doctor is... you have to ultimately go it alone. You have people supporting you, but no one can do it for you. Somehow, you have to step up to the plate and hit that ball on your own. But we do have prayer, and the peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding. Certainly, on the day of battle, that will help. :)

Some childbirth book reviews...

I know, right? Childbirth. Not exactly a light topic. But I thought I'd write about the books I read as I prepare for my baby's upcoming birth in May.

I read two over the holidays, and both bear discussion. One of those warning again: lots of body parts going to be tossed around in this post that I normally wouldn't use in everyday conversation. You'll see why when I get to the second of the two books.

I'll write about my previous birth experience in a separate post, but in a nutshell, with Henry I had a vaginal birth in a hospital with epidural anesthesia. It wasn't a bad birth experience, but there are some things that ideally, I'd like to go differently this time. The main thing I'd like different is in regards to Pitocin augmentation (Pitocin is a synthetic hormone that can be used to stimulate strong labor contractions; it is used in labor inductions and augmentation). I don't want it unless absolutely necessary. And I don't consider "Oh Honey, we just don't want you to be here all day!" to be absolutely necessary. Pitocin creates contractions that are immediately stronger than what your body would produce on its own, with no gradual buildup. It makes labor much more painful much more quickly, with little to no natural adjustment period.

I think it's important to state up front that I see nothing wrong, morally or otherwise, with pain relief medication in labor. I don't regret using it, and if I feel the need at the time, I'll use it again. I firmly believe that this is a woman's prerogative and a benefit of modern medicine (who is the patron saint of anesthesiologists? God bless that person).

That being said, last time I did want to labor without it, and for a number of different reasons that I'll discuss in that other post I mentioned, I ultimately chose to receive the epidural. This time, once again I'd like to try for an unmedicated birth, although I will again be delivering in a hospital environment. I really don't like the phrase "natural birth" because it makes it seem like giving birth with pain medication or via cesarean section are "unnatural" and that is simply not the case.

So, this time I'd like to do my homework and actually prepare myself with some knowledge and techniques that may assist me through birth without pain medication. I just want to feel less fear about childbirth, and find some ways I can manage my hospital birth actively on my own. Last time, I did not put much time into preparation at all. I was afraid, and thinking/reading about it made me more afraid, so I just figured I'd wing it.

I'm not planning to take a course (Bradley Method, Hynobirthing, that sort of thing) because I'm not sold on any one of those methods enough to pay a substantial fee and spend a number of weeks in class. Not that I think they don't work. I'm certain they do for many women, I'm just not sure that any one of those methods is right for me. I'd just like some guidance on simple things I can do in labor to help myself. I'm a reader, so books seem the logical choice to me. And in the end, if I want an epidural, I'm going to get one. I don't feel strongly enough about unmedicated labor to deny myself this if I truly feel it is warranted.

Plus, my doctor told me during my labor with Hank that second (and plus) babies come out faster than the first. If she was lying, someone is going to PAY.

Ok, so, on that note... On my first foray to the library, I was looking for Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, and happened upon a real gem: The Big Book of Birth, by Erica Lyon.

This is a practical book that describes every stage of labor, common interventions and cesarean birth, and simple pain coping techniques. I was VERY impressed. I can be a little turned off by real "crunchy" natural birth books that are very biased against hospital birth and obstetricians. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, and I see nothing wrong with midwife assisted homebirth for those that choose it, but that's not my choice. And I don't want to feel hopeless about my choice, that inevitably I'll end up tied to my hospital bed, unable to move around, or with an unplanned cesarean section.

This book was just very uplifting and perky, and gave you the facts. For me, it helps *tremendously* to see a chart with the different stages of labor, what they entail, and how long each lasts. Last time? Didn't know this stuff. Early labor (your cervix dilates from zero to four centimeters) will last anywhere from a few to eighteen hours, but is not very painful. Active labor (your cervix dilates from four to seven centimeters) will last anywhere from four to eight hours, on average, and while more painful, is usually manageable on your own.

Transition is where things get dicey. I remember this stage well, and I had HAD the epidural. Let's just say it wore off at the end. And with the Pitocin? I remember wanting to crawl up the walls of my hospital room. All I could manage was to writhe in agony on my side (still couldn't walk, despite the waning epidural) and grip the rails on my hospital bed. NOT a happy camper. What the author tells us in this book is that transition (your cervix dilates from seven to ten centimeters), while the most painful, is the shortest of all the labor phases. It will last anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. I can't tell you what a relief it was for me to read that. Very comforting to have some solid facts in front of me.

I also liked her suggestions for pain management on your own. Importantly, move around. Change positions. Stay upright as much as you can (squat, sit on a birth ball or stool, rock from side to side on your feet, lean on your husband, take a shower, as warm water will immediately dull some of the pain), but if you need a rest, even switching sides, or moving to your hands and knees on the bed can make a difference in helping labor progress. She gave some simple suggestions for handling intense contractions: they should only last about a minute or so, and will include a buildup, peak, and slow down. Pick a visualization to help you through. A boat going up a wave of water and then coming back down, water washing over you, or whatever you like. The contraction should only last a minute, even in transition, and then you should get a break. The breaks will get shorter in duration, but even in transition they should be long enough to catch your breath and gear up for the next one. Pitocin denied me that, which is why I hate it so much. :) Practice relaxation breathing, which is simply breathing deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth.

She also explained pushing and delivery in a way that took the scary mystery out of it for me. Ever wonder how that big baby head comes out of such a small seeming place? Picture pulling a tee shirt over your head. There's plenty of room at first, but then the collar at the top, small and flat, seems to present an obstacle. But once your head gets to that point, and you exert gentle pressure at the opening, it stretches for your head to gradually come through. That's how a baby is born, and that mental picture really helped me.

I really liked this book. In fact, I'm considering purchasing my own copy so that I have it for reference closer to my due date.

The next book that I read was the well known Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, by Ina May Gaskin. Ina May Gaskin is an extremely well-respected midwife who practices in Tennessee. She has a place called "The Farm" where thousands of women have delivered their babies, and boasts a cesarean section rate of less than two percent. The book contains a good number of birth stories, all from women who ultimately experienced unmedicated birth, explanations of the birth process and common interventions, and some tips on positioning to help in labor.

This is definitely a "crunchier" book, but it does not present a negative attitude toward obstetricians and hospital birth, which I appreciated. But it's definitely a book that is more, hum, how to say... well, sexual. The author feels strongly that birth is a normal, natural process that we shouldn't be ashamed of (I completely agree), and that while it takes a sexual act to get the baby inside, sexual acts can also aid in getting the baby out. Well...

In many ways, I appreciated her candor. There are some photos in the book that include women who are undressed. This isn't shocking to me, and it shouldn't be to anyone. Our bodies are a beautiful thing, and if a woman wants to be uninhibited by clothes in labor, good for her. I on the other hand, am extremely modest. I prefer to be clothed at all times, unless in the privacy of my own bedroom. But I am very grateful that she took the "ick! scary!" factor out of vaginal birth for me. There is nothing gross about a baby crowning out of a woman's vagina, it is the most natural thing in the world. And seeing the pictures really brought that home to me.

That being said, while I can understand that nipple stimulation can aid in labor progression, I don't plan to ask my husband to implement it in the middle of my birthing room. Or for us to start kissing... you get the picture. That may be appealing to some people, and if that's you, you will love this book. :)

She also had some great pencil drawings of historical birth positions which I found helpful. Many American women give birth in what is called the "supine position," meaning lying on her back with her legs pushed back. This may be convenient for the doctor, but is actually the least efficacious position to give birth in. Gravity is our friend here. Squatting, standing, even sitting up would all make pushing easier for the woman. I think many hospitals have squatting bars now, and while hospitals often reel you in with the fetal monitor and an IV pole, you can still stand up by your bed, sit on a birthing ball, rock back and forth, all by your bedside. I plan to ask about it at my hospital refresher class. As well as about intermittant monitoring to permit short walks and trips to the shower. We'll see. But rest assured, I'll fill you all in. :)

So, that's my long childbirth tome for the day. More to come!

Weekend enjoyment, more belly dancing, and Tudor scandals...

Happy Tuesday all :) I've been immersed in the article I'm writing (and that I really need to finish this summer) so I got side tracked from blogging yesterday. But I had a fabulous weekend. We swam, played, read, and watched movies. I also went down to that outdoor festival to see the belly dancers on Saturday morning. It started to rain, but I stayed to watch them anyway. They were pretty good. The only thing I noticed is that most of them didn't smile. This inspired me to persist in my forced beaming ways. Lots of Non-Plussed Dancer faces going on. I'm sure they were just nervous and concentrating (to which I relate with every fiber of my being) but as an audience member, I have to admit, it's not inviting.

I've been practicing away. It's going well, but I've developed a new problem. I call it: Hip Scarf Hip Syndrome. I know that I mentioned that I had moved to a non-coined hip scarf, but I reverted. For a performance, I figured I should go all out. Coin away! The only problem, as I mentioned, is that I have found that the coins actually *weigh down* my hips. In one particular hip drop move, I want to move my hips front and back as I drop, and well... they're not cooperating. Who knew? I guess I have to work on strengthening my hip muscles, whatever those are.

Other weekend activities included starting a new series of books that my sister Shauna'h lent me that I'm quickly becoming obsessed with. It's the Tudor fiction series, by Philippa Gregory. I started with the book she is most known for, The Other Boleyn Girl. Fascinating stuff.

I always found Anne Boleyn particularly interesting (and I love her name; possible little Anne Catholic Librarian, coming your way within the next few years :) but this book has opened my eyes a bit to Katherine of Aragon. All accounts are that she was a very dignified and admirable woman. And she was a devout Catholic. I've enjoyed reading about her. Apparently, she was well known as wearing a hair shirt under her clothes as a personal form of penance, and she was very devoted to our Blessed Mother, praying the rosary every night.

The situation with her marriage to the King being "annulled" was a very nasty business. The King himself, well... stick a snout on that man, oink OINK. What a pig, I'm sorry. I have yet to read a single flattering thing about him, and I feel certain that I never will. Not a star of humanity, that one.

I've also learned a lot about the lives of women during that time period, and it's a very humbling thing to behold. We take so much for granted these days, and I do not identify with the modern day feminist movement at all, but reading things about this time period make me wince in horror at the plight of women. They were given no choices about how their lives would unfold, and were married off at the whim of their fathers.

And... I'm going to say the 'c' word again, CHILDBIRTH. My God, what a nightmare. These poor women had to go into "confinement" for up to a month prior to birth, for fear of any stimulation disturbing the birth. We're not talking relaxation by any stretch of the imagination here, or even bed rest for a high risk pregnancy. This was just expected of all healthy women imminent to deliver, and they would be sealed in a dark, airtight room for this time period, except per chance a few candles to light the way for reading or sewing. Hopefully, someone would visit them. And then following the birth, another month of bed rest would follow, after which time they were "churched" (not at all certain what that means) and their child taken away to be reared in the country. I'm pretty speechless on this whole account. It sounds so, SO awful. They were then lucky to see their children once or twice a year.

When I finish the book I'll write more, since I'm really into it now. Yesterday, I stopped off at the public library to fetch season 1 of the Showtime series The Tudors. I made Mike watch episode 1 with me last night, and even he thought it was good :) Episode 2 to follow tonight...

New readers, a beautiful spring day, and childbirth of yore...

An odd mix of topics in the title, no? Despite the continuing mountain of work, I'm in a really good mood today. It's a beautiful spring day in Western New York, and...*drum roll*...I've lost 2.5 lbs! This is a big yay. Working nicely toward a goal number that will remain unnamed...

At any rate, I also wanted to mention how thrilled I am that I now have 18 followers!! I love you, my followers! I really, really have grown to treasure this blog. I always enjoyed writing, but never fully found the right outlet for it. I never could keep up a traditional journal, and although I loved creative writing as a young adult, I never pursued that more formally as an adult. This blog is truly ideal for me. I allows me to write and be creative without taking up a lot of time, and I have the opportunity to explore topics that are meaningful to me. It's like my own personal little space in the world :) I'm a happy girl. Just please - never remove yourself as a follower even if you decide never to read my blog ever again - this would devastate me :) Once a follower, a follower FOR LIFE.

One last housekeeping item, and then I'll move on to the topic of the day. My new rosary from Cam at A Woman's Place... is in the mail, so I refrained from entering this week's giveaway lest I become too greedy :) But Cam has a beautiful rosary bracelet with St. Gerard medal up for giveaway this week! Head on over to enter for a chance to win it. St. Gerard is the patron of expectant mothers, so this would be a great gift for yourself or a loved one who is expecting a baby. There are more for purchase at Cam's etsy store, Full of Grace Creations.

Ok. This is going to be one of those Tiffany stories, so settle in with your tea cup. I'm a woman, right? So, all my male readers, I'm certain that you knew this would happen one day. I'm going to talk about CHILDBIRTH. And I'm going to volley around some words that normally do not come up in polite conversation. Anyone who wishes to abstain from such musings, feel free to stop reading now :)

Lately, Mike and I have been watching Season 3 of Mad Men on DVD. What on earth does this have to do with childbirth, Tiffany? Stay with me. Anybody else watch Mad Men? Great show on AMC. It's set around a New York ad agency in the early 1960's. It's a fascinating, nostalgic look back into the culture of that time period. The ad men knock back whiskey during business meetings and pat the secretaries asses at will. And everybody smokes. And drinks. Even the pregnant women. I didn't say it was good nostalgia. It's just a very evocative period piece.

Mike and I watched an episode over the weekend that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. And ***SPOILER ALERT*** If you're catching up with Mad Men, and have not yet gotten to the end of Season 2, don't read any further. You will be spoiled for a major plot development. If you don't care about spoilers, read on...

***SPOILERS BEGIN***

At the end of Season 2, we find out that Don, the main character, and his wife, Betty, are expecting their third baby. At the beginning of Season 3, we see Betty at the end of her pregnancy. The episode that so captured my attention is appropriately entitled "The Fog." The episode opens, and we find that Betty has gone into labor. She and Don hurry to the hospital.

The setting is Summer of 1963. And this is how Betty's labor experience went. Don pushes her in a wheelchair to the main reception desk at the hospital. A nurse greets them.

"Ok, Mr. Draper. Your part here is done. You go to the waiting room and we'll take it from here."

So while Don goes to drink whiskey and read the newspaper in the hospital waiting room, Betty is wheeled to labor and delivery. First, we see her having to fill out a sheaf of paperwork while still in the wheelchair and in terrible pain. Next, we see her in the requisite awful hospital gown (some things never change) in still more pain, as the nurse tells her,

"Ok, Mrs. Draper, we're going to prepare you for delivery now. You will be shaved and given an enema."

This is where those "not so polite" words come into play. The degrading nature of both of these totally unnecessary procedures got my eyes narrowed right away. But the worst was yet to come.

Pretty soon Betty is understandably writhing in terrific pain, and the nurse keeps poking her arms to give her unspecified pain medications despite her protests. She's told that the medication will put her into a "twilight sleep." Soon thereafter, Betty begins to hallucinate. She wanders in and out of consciousness. When conscious, she's still in so much pain that she thrashes and calls out for her husband. The nurses restrain her, tying her limbs to the bed, and telling her that her husband is not permitted to come back.

Next thing we know, Betty is waking up. In her arms is a precariously perched adorable newborn complete with blue cap on little cone head. Don is now in the room. Betty groggily looks at the baby and murmurs,

"Oh, she's beautiful."

Don answers,

"Betts...the baby is a boy."

"Oh. A boy. Yes, a boy."

That's right, her husband, who was in *another wing of the hospital at the time* knew the gender of their baby before she did. In the case of an emergency cesarean section, I could understand this, but not when an uncomplicated vaginal delivery is involved.

This brought back a memory of my own mom telling me about the birth of my older sister, Rhonda, who was born in 1970 and the only one of us for which she had a vaginal delivery.

"oh yes, I remember pushing for a little bit, and then the doctor told me that they'd take it from there, and they put a mask over my face to put me out."

*Catholic Librarian's eyebrows raise to ceiling* "But, but...why would they do that? How could you deliver the baby if you were unconscious?"

"I don't know, I was just grateful."

I was always so shocked by that story I never really knew what to think. Now, after some Googling yesterday, I know that this "twilight sleep" thing was very prevalent into the early 1970's. And, there was a whole lot of buzz about it in the context of this particular episode of Mad Men.

Apparently, the way I felt after watching the episode was the exact reaction the writers were angling to portray. Betty's frantic, pain-filled emotions, the helplessness of her situation, the utter lack of choices or control she had over her birth experience, her isolation from her husband, were so palpable that I'm still thinking about them 2 days later. Granted, there are certain things that can occur during labor that can impact our birth experiences in a way that we did not plan for. This happens all the time. Most women do not plan to have a c-section. But they happen, and you do what is recommended by your doctor for your own health and the safety of your baby.

This was something else entirely. There was a "this is just the way things are done" aura going on, and women did not feel free to question it back then. Having a vaginal delivery, but yet being denied the opportunity to even witness your baby's birth and experience it with your partner just blows my mind. I was speechless after the episode ended, it was just so horrible.

Oh, and this is how it ended. Poor Betty, marooned in the hospital for weeks afterward, is in front of her hospital room window holding the baby, waving to her other 2 children down on the sidewalk below. Because, of course, they were not allowed into the hospital to see their mother or their new brother. Even now, 2 days later, the whole thing still makes me angry.

It all got me to thinking about how glad I am that things are different now. Our births may not always go according to our carefully drawn up birth plans, but we have choices. And thankfully, the culture of 'men in the waiting room' has changed (baring emergency circumstances, of course). I'll never forget the moment that Hank was born. My doctor announced "It's a Henry!" and held him up for us to see. The look on Hank's face, complete with arched eyebrow, clearly seemed to say:

"wtf?"

She put him on my belly and he kicked around and did that adorable little "wah, wah" newborn cry. Mike and I were able to touch him right away and tell him that we loved him. And I'm so grateful that Mike was by my side and not doing shots in the waiting room :)

It was an excellent, excellent episode, and it really made me think hard. We women are called to sacrifice of ourselves in many ways. For some women, one of these ways is through childbirth. And I'm glad that nowadays we have some say in how we experience and offer up that suffering, if that makes any sense.

Ok. Childbirth talk done. At least until I'm about to go through it again myself. Then you'll hear about it again, and in oh so much detail :)

It's my baby's birthday...

*sniffle* My precious guy is 4 years old today. I remember vividly that day 4 years ago when he came into this world...

Actually, it all began November 5, 2005, the day before Henry was born. I awoke and did notice one physical sign that labor may be imminent, and I will spare you the details of what that sign was. But I wasn't due for another week, and you know what they say about first babies - they're usually late. As with most labor signs, it could mean that I would go into labor either within the hour, or 2 weeks from then. I didn't think too much of it. Mostly though, that was because my nesting brain was set on so many other things. Knowing what you know about me, what would you think I did the day before I gave birth to my son? That's right; a million different things, all of which kept me perpetually in motion with a tremendous burst of annoying high-paced energy.

First, I rearranged our pots and pans. A pressing problem that just could not wait, right? I was actually down on my hands and knees, belly and all, stacking and re-stacking things in the cupboards. Once that was complete, I figured with all of my pots arranged, I might as well put them to good use and make homemade sauce (which I haven't done again since that day, fyi). Mike comes into the kitchen to find me frantically chopping bell peppers and onion, tomato puree sizzing on the stove top. He managed to get me to turn off the sauce for a bit so that we could take a walk together. At that time, we still lived in an apartment in the city, and we took a beautiful walk, even taking some pictures in front of trees in their full fall foliage glory. That sucked down about an hour, and still, I was not drained of energy.

We got back and I finished the sauce, and our dinner. I made the announcement that I wanted to go to the vigil Mass that evening (Saturday) just in case I didn't feel up to Mass in the morning. A fortuitous choice. Off to Mass I trekked, where I also went to Confession before the service started. At the conclusion of Mass, Fr. Jim announced that the Sacrament of the Sick would be available, so I went to that as well. That's 3 sacraments in the couse of an hour and a half, people. Now that's impressive. I was loaded up.

After I got back home, I did more general house and nursery straightening and re-straightening. I folded teeny tiny sleepers and itty bitty socks. Finally, I was spent. My belly and I went to bed.

I was sleeping (uncomfortably, of course) at 2 am and awoke with cramps. I shifted position (not an easy feat for a woman who is 9 months pregnant) in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. I did that for at least 15 minutes, in denial that I had to actually get out of bed. Finally, and very crankily I might add, I got out of bed without waking Mike and went into the living room.

I remember wondering why this all couldn't have started at, oh I don't know, 9 am instead of 2. After I had a full night of sleep. And I also remember thinking, "well, with as uncomfortable as sleeping has been this whole pregnancy, it's not like getting up with a newborn could be any worse." SNORT. Ok parents, just admit it, you're dying laughing right now. Because, oooohhhh yes sir, the sleep deprivation that accompanies having a newborn is so much infinitely more difficult for so many reasons.

But at any rate, on that day I was blissfully living in my ignorance of such things, and I had a whole different problem going on. I timed my contractions, and read a bit of the Diary of St. Faustina. *halo* I paced around, inspecting my belly for clues. Around 3:30 am, Mike discovered that I was missing and came out in search of me. When my contractions got to 5 minutes apart, I called my obstetrician's 24 hour nurses line and Vicki advised me to proceed to the hospital. So at 4:30 am on November 6, 2005, we did, nervous excitement permeating our car windows.

Once I got to the hospital, I saw my obstetrican, whom I adore, which was great. But then they shuttled me to a birthing room and that's when I got unhappy. I was hooked up to all manner of devices and couldn't walk more than a foot from the bed. Plus, they had to "check me in" and asked me a slew of annoying questions, all while I was writhing in discomfort.

Hours passed. Any number of hospital employees managed to tee me off, though granted, I wasn't exactly myself. I actually banned the general on-call obstetrician in the labor/delivery wing from my room because I just didn't like his attitude. The CatholicLibrarian Unhappy Mind Ray was pointed in his direction in full force. I liked my nurse and agreed that the midwife could come near me, so I stuck with them. I didn't see my own doctor again, of course, until I was ready to deliver. And by that point, I had pretty much agreed to marry the anesthesiologist, meaning that your CatholicLibrarian was in some serious, serious pain.

In the final hours, I remember thinking to myself "there's no getting out of this now, is there? Boy, this sucks." Ah, well :) I remember writhing and clutching the hospital bed armrest. In between contractions, my doctor (quite young, and had an 18 month old at home and one on the way) was chatting with the nurse. My doctor mentioned that my nurse had also been her nurse when she delivered her son, and I remember thinking "Gee, that seems a bit awkward," but they didn't seem to think so. I like them both quite a bit, but they were starting to put me in a near occasion of saying a swear word by taking their gloves off between my contractions. At this point, there's like about 10 seconds between gut splitting contractions and I want THIS BABY OUT NOW so for the love of God, KEEP YOUR GLOVES ON!!!

And so the big moment finally arrived. Mike and I had chosen not to find out our baby's gender, so we were all excited about the big reveal. Well, I imagine Mike was excited; my sole mental focus was beseeching God to please let this all be over, and I didn't want to divert any energy away from that. I heard my doctor say "It's a Henry!!" And so our little guy came into the world.

I opened my eyes (all that beseeching requires eyes squeezed closed for maximum effectiveness) and I saw Henry for the first time. It was a poignant moment, seeing how he looked like us. I remember that the look on his face said "What on earth just happened here?" The doctor placed him on my belly and he gave one of those adorable "wah wah" newborn cries. Mike cut his umbillical cord and we were in business.

One final anecdote. That night, after all of the family had left, and I was left in my hospital room, blissful with my cable tv and no-longer-pregnant body (instant relief from sciatica and any number of other discomforts) I recall rolling on my belly and nearly dissolving from the pleasure of that position, denied me since about month 4. I fell into a deep sleep, denied me since about, oh I don't know, fertilization? and awoke at 3 am to nurse Hank. When he was done, I happily buzzed the nurses' station and told them that the baby was all set. A nurse came and whisked him away, and I fell back to sleep. At 6 am, he appeared again, swaddled in his little bassinette, to nurse. I happily awoke to accommodate him. And do you know what I thought? I thought that in between those times, THE BABY WAS SLEEPING. Go ahead, fall over laughing. That was the final night of my blissful ignorance.

And here we are, 4 years later. *sob* My baby!! How far we've all come.