on cloth diapering: an early review

ED: this was written when Charley was itty-bitty. Truly though, our feelings on cloth have not changed much. and since the writing he hasn't used any more disposables!!

Charley doesn’t like disposables

What I wish I knew before I started cloth diapering

When we found out we were pregnant, it was an easy decision to make – we knew we wanted to cloth. Inundated with all the kinds of diapers available, service or no service, we were overwhelmed with the decisions of how to cloth. With many hours spent reading books, blogs, and talking to friends, we finally made the decision to go with Best Bottoms. The easy “how” we made that decision was to say that we liked that they were local (they are Wisconsin-based too!), adjustable sizing, and a few good friends used them and raved (the power of word of mouth!). So we made the trip to Madison from Milwaukee Memorial Day weekend to purchase our starter set of Best Bottoms. And not a day too soon, as Charley made his appearance the next week, two weeks prior to his due date!

 

We chose not to cloth in the hospital. Charley is our first baby and we knew we would be overwhelmed at the large number of decisions we would be making right away as well as the amount of “stuff” we needed to care for our lovebug. I worried that we would have a hard time keeping track of all the supplies in the hospital for our couple day stay. So into disposables it was. And it went fine. But as soon as we made it home, Charley was plopped into a cloth. He looked adorable and outrageous. The adjustable diaper covered about 2/3 of his petite torso. But he was happy and so were we. And the system amazingly worked! He was above 7 lbs. upon discharge but just barely. But still we had no leaks with the diaper on the slimmest setting. They were magnificent.

When we went to the pediatrician’s office for his first check-in and check-up, she noted some surprise that he was in cloth this early. Then she mentioned that we needed to watch his umbilical cord to make sure it dried out completely. Usually when in disposables, caregivers are able to fold over the top of the diaper to leave the cord open to air, to dry and fall off. However, in the Best Bottoms we were unable to do this. She said we may want to use disposables until the cord completely falls off. We persisted for a few more days with the Best Bottoms, but our collective worry got the best of us. He’s now in disposables.

We’ve since found out there are other options for newborns – including newborn covers with a cord dip. But given the state of chaos our lives are currently in due the shifting of the center of our universe, we went with the simpler option: disposables. All in all, I would say Charley doesn’t like them. For more than the majority of his diaper changes since we switched back, he has waited to pee and poop until the diaper was off of his body. It’s made for some interesting diaper changes in the middle of the night! We’ve also noticed he is getting a little bit of irritation in his diaper area, which was one of the major reasons we were opting to go with cloth. Ah well, breaks my heart a bit, but I keep telling myself it is temporary.

If we had known we might have better prepared and bought a few newborn covers. Now we are just waiting for the cord to fall off, with baited breath, so we can return to using our cloth diapers. We are only 1 week into life with Charley and each day we’ve learned new things. I’m sure there will be much more to learn, but in the meantime, the adventure rides on – we look forward every day to seeing where it takes us.

on breastfeeding: it ain't for chumps.

i knew when making the commitment to breastfeed that is wasn't going to be easy. i'd know a handful of women that went it motherhood with the best intentions to breast feed but despite great efforts were unable to do it. i'd also seen women grimace with pain when those sweet little mouths latched on to a seriously sensitive part of the body and sucked like a dyson.

i remember saying to a friend who had had a baby the year prior: "i mean really, how exactly does it work? you push this baby out and then they latch onto your boob and suck and suddenly there is milk?" i was mystified.

it was in fact not easy for me. my nipples hurt like crazy. whoever spread that rumor that if it hurts you are doing it wrong is crazy. (and mean in my opinion. i feel like it sets women up to fail.) i mean, yes, when the latch is perfect (now months later) it is not painful (though i still wouldn't say the sensation is "pleasant" 100% of the time). but very often the latch is imperfect in the beginning. you and the child are learning how exactly to breastfeed and it is not an exact science.

moreover, different bodies react differently to the process. i feel like i've seen it all - engorgement, dysfunctional latching needing nipple shields, clogged milk ducts (many!), milk blebs, blood blisters (yes, on my nipples), i swear i've even had a mastitis though it seemed to go away on its own if that is possible. i've been blessed with an (over) abundance of milk that took months to equalize so i was very often pumping to relieve the pressure. it helped build up my supply and gave me a nice volume of reserves, but geez - i was tired of waking up drowning in breast milk!

but ultimately, it's been worth it. not only is it satisfying to know that i am giving my child the nutrition that is the best and made especially for him, but there is a moment of peace and serenity when he is latched well and nursing and cups my breast with both hands, looking up at me with his green-brown eyes. that look. it is hard to describe. love, admiration, connection, peace, and joy all in one look. it's been a process but i feel myself only further mystified and obsessed with it.

i give special thanks to our lactation consultant who we didn't see in the hospital (though we should have - the #1 piece of advice i would give to new moms is to be sure to spend some time with the LC when in the hospital, even if you think things are going well). we had to return to see her a couple days later when i was so engorged that Charley couldn't latch and i was literally spoon feeding him expressed breast milk. scary. friends and family have been incredibly supportive too, yielding late night calls and withholding their bad news to help support me. and dave, of course, dave. for the support and encouragement and becoming the expert milk duct massager he is to help break up those clogs. oy.

it is hard but so so worth every moment. really. i would do it all again - the good, the bad, and the ugly - in a heartbeat.

on delivery: the birth!

author's note: this may be graphic at times - discussing bodily functions. (remember: i am a nurse. we talk about topics over lunch that would make even those with steel stomaches squeamish.) read at your own peril. :)


we were ushered into the ob triage area - an off-shoot of the ER. once settled the midwife stationed there checked how far along i was. this was the moment. if i wasn't as far along as i hoped, i would go home to labor further. it was nerve-wracking because, meanwhile, mentally, if i wasn't as far along as i wanted to be, it would be a major let-down and, again, make me worry that i wouldn't be able to meet my goal for a natural childbirth.

so the midwife checked and i was 5.5 cm and 100% effaced. i looked to my doula who said, "that is excellent."  i was hoping i'd would be further along honestly, but i was happy i had made so much progress at home. and i felt more confident knowing we were exactly where my doula wanted us to be.

we were then transfered up to the labor and delivery unit. the first point of order was for the nurses to place an IV. i had tested positive at 36 weeks for GBS. GBS (group beta strep) is a type of bacteria that can exist in the perineal area. adults that test positive are considered to be colonized; in fact, 25% of all healthy, pregnant women will test positive for the bacteria (American Pregnancy Organization) and reportedly, it is more common among healthcare workers. however, there is an increased risk for infants born to moms who test positive for GBS; they can contract pneumonia, sepsis, and meningitis. but not every baby born to a mom who is GBS+ will contract GBS. as a precaution, however, it is routine practice to administer IV penicillin to those who are GBS+ upon admission to the hospital and every 4 hours thereafter. the medical team wants to get in at least 2 doses.

unfortunately, because of my body's response to the pain of labor, the fact that i hadn't eaten or drank much since the afternoon and had also been vomiting, my veins were pretty small and flat, which ultimately makes them hard to access. we had 2 nurses working with us as one was in orientation and each tried once and was unable to obtain IV access. they then called in the anesthesiologist. stereotypically speaking, anesthesiologists are not people-people. they are weak when it comes to bedside manner as most of the time, other than in pre-op, their patients are unconscious. we experience this as well at the children's hospital where i worked. we call on the anesthesiologists when no one else is able to obtain IV access, but it is a last resort. they are often not very nice to the nurses nor the children. once i worked with an anesthesiologist who supported the child extremely well through the IV access and was extremely pleasant to work with, but unfortunately, in my experience, this is the exception. but i digress.

the anesthesiologist seemed nice enough, but was unsympathetic to the fact that i was in labor. when she first came in, i politely asked her to wait before poking me for my contraction to subside. she was none to pleased, acting as if this were an extreme demand on her all-too-precious time, but did comply with my request. sadly, it took her 4 pokes to gain IV access. all the while, she made sure to point out how horrible my veins were and to make it clear that it were my fault, not her's, that she was unable to gain access. meanwhile, after each poke, she would leave the catheter in my arm - not the most pleasant experience. i understand the practicality of it - if you leave it in and are still using a tourniquet on the same arm, you won't have blood squirting out of the holes. it is a common anesthesiologist practice, though i don't know any nurses (even those in flight-for-life) who practice similarly. even when she switched to my other arm, i had to ask the nurses to remove them as she hadn't.

finally, on the 6th poke and probably an hour later the anesthesiologist was successful. Dave and our doula were fuming. i was irritated at how long it was taking, but i didn't quite have the same anger they did. i joke now that it was like a nice distraction from the contractions themselves - like a weird version of acupuncture. honestly, much less painful than i feared but certainly it was all relative.

as a part of our birth plan, we had wanted to use the bath tub/whirlpool. i was worried as there was only one for the unit and it was a first-come first-serve kinda thing, but fortunately it was available when we were admitted. (this could be in part because it was the middle of the night and because i didn't have an epidural which precludes you from using it.) 

on the way there, i was walking faster than the nursing staff preferred. because of the difficulty in obtaining my IV they were VERY concerned about losing it. they kept telling me to slow down and be careful. it is funny to me as a nurse that i couldn't be more helpful in a sense. obviously my plate was full but i remember thinking - i am not going to pull out my IV, it is fine! of course when we got to the tub room i realized i had to go to the bathroom and poop. both my doula and the medical team were concerned that i was feeling like i had to push, a sign of 2nd stage labor, which can often be confused with and mimic the feeling of needing to have a bowel movement. i assured them that no, in fact, i just needed to go to the bathroom. :) and i did.

once i finally made it into the tub, it was heavenly. again, in the water was the only time that i felt any kind of relief between contractions. while they didn't disappear completely, they subsided enough that i could socialize with my birth team. we got a sort of rhythm down. when the contractions would start, i would prop myself slightly raised out of the water as i would get tremendously hot. Dave would put counter-pressure on my quads, which hurt quite a bit with the contractions. and Sheila would hold the battery-operated fan in my face. it worked. i continued to make progress. after some time had elapsed in the tub, (time was evading me - i couldn't tell how long had passed as i really was focused only contraction to contraction), the midwife checked me again. i hadn't been checked since we arrived in the ER. i was 8.5 cm. we were thrilled. i am recalling that it had been maybe 2 1/2 hours so i was making excellent progress. at one point later there was some discussion as to whether or not my water had broke. i was passing lots of clots, which is normal at this stage, but one of the nurses thought she saw a push of liquid during one of the contractions.

we continued on in the tub in this rhythm for a bit longer. soon enough, however, i began to feel the urge to bear down and push with the contractions. the midwife came back and told me i could stay a little longer in the tub and NOT push or we could go back to the room and she could check me there, but at that point, going back to the tub wouldn't be an option. (this hospital does not perform water births and is adamant about making sure no one *accidentally* gives birth in the tub.) i decided to ride it out a little longer because i knew i would not feel as comfortable outside the tub. (at this point, comfortable was truly a relative term. intermittently throughout my labor, and certainly at this point, i would exclaim, "i can't do this." dave would assure me, "yes you can" and our doula cleverly would say "you ARE doing this!" there came a point when i would say i couldn't just so i couldn't have the positive recognition and encouragement from my team. they really helped propel me through.)

finally the urge to push overrode my desire to stay submerged. on the walk back to the room, in an effort to be a helpful patient, i turned to the CNA who was walking along side me pushing the IV pole and said, "we are going to walk fast." she smiled and said, "no problem!" and we were able to hustle back to the room. the midwife checked me and i was at 10cm - fully dilated! we were ready to push but, in fact, my bag of waters hadn't broke yet. she had mentioned to me earlier that the only time she would consider breaking waters is if i was fully dilated. she had seen in her experience that it could slow things down in the final stage of labor. so she asked, "is it ok if i break your water?" momentarily i didn't know how to answer. everything we had read about and learned in our natural birthing class said that letting the bags rupture spontaneously and not artificially was the best way. but at this point, i also didn't want to slow down the process. it is *REALLY* hard to make a decision like this (like any!) when you are in labor. but i agreed. i do think it was the right decision at this stage. i wouldn't have wanted them ruptured early but it seemed like it made sense at this point. it did make me realize  some things about the medicalization of labor. even as informed as we were, we hadn't ever come across anything about bag rupturing once pushing. and we had really prepared. it is easy to understand how other laboring women could be railroaded in a more medicalized experience. not that natural childbirth is for everyone, but it is overwhelming once in the process and easy to veer off course if you are ill-prepared and don't have a supportive team. in the end, i did agree to have my bag broken at that time, with no regrets. it was an odd feeling for sure.

then the pushing began. at some point around this period i was hooked up to a fetal heartbeat monitor and contraction monitor. our little one was showing some heartbeat decelerations, which can sometimes be indicative of fetal distress. in our case, they suspected some cord compression where his head was pushing on the cord in turn decreasing blood supply to him. as a result, they wanted me on my left side to increase blood flow. we had prepared for me to be in squatting position when in the pushing phase, but instead i was lying on my side with my legs in a clamshell, officially called the left-lateral position.  the pushing was very slow-going, so it seemed to me, and painful. i had learned that for a lot of mothers, the 2nd stage (pushing) of labor was easier in a way than the 1st stage because it was active and you were able to DO something. however, the pain overrode any excitement of action. it was really painful. at some point, because of the decels they wanted to put oxygen on me. the nurses asked, "is it ok if we put oxygen on you?" i remember thinking - seriously? of course, i understood that it was considered best treatment for the decels again to ensure what blood was getting through to the baby was oxygen-rich. but again, i was in NO position to make an informed decision. pain should be one of those factors that is considered to make it impossible to obtain informed consent. i clearly remember my response being, "sure, whatever."

additionally, figuring out how to push more effectively was not straight forward. i could tell when i was doing it right based on the feeling as well as the cheer of my team, but it was exhausting. it was hard to maintain such pressure with each push. it also was confusing to the body somehow that to push increased pain in a sense but it was also the way to get rid of the pain. i knew some pushes were better than others and had to just kept trying for consistency and efficacy.

after awhile, my midwife suggested we change positions. she said i could try squatting or lying on my right side. i looked right at her and asked, "which is going to make the baby come faster?" "squatting" she replied. needless to say, i chose squatting.

the nurses obtained a squatting bar and rolled it to the foot of the bed. the plan was for me to sit back and relax in the bed in a sitting position between contractions, but when a contraction came that i was to pull myself up with the squatting bar (and the aid of my birth team) and squat and push. we did this successfully for the first contraction in this position. as soon as i went to sit back i felt an excruciating pain and pressure against my tailbone. just like it is instinct to pull your hand out of the fire, my instincts kicked in and i stood up straight on the bed. my doula and midwife were none-too-pleased. i am pretty sure they wanted to kill me. "you have to sit down," they implored. "no," i said. "it hurts too much." they pushed and i politely refused. we finally came to an agreement that before i stood up, i would let them know so that they could spot me. and so we proceeded...

we continued for awhile at this. it felt like an eternity. finally the midwife saw i was tiring out. she suggested i lie on my right side back in the clamshell position. what i liked about this position was that it was restful. our doula and dave would put counter-pressure on my feet, giving me a semi-solid surface against which to push when the contractions came. after some time, i started to finally make real progress. the baby was crowning. i was able to reach down on feel the top of his head. prior to labor beginning, i had indicated that i wanted to watch this stage of labor with a mirror. however, once we got to the pushing phase i was exhausted to say the least. with each contraction, i went into this deeply internal part of me to get through the pain and do what i had to do to keep it progressing. (amazingly i didn't yell at anyone. dave and i were both prepared for me to cuss him out during the labor. but in spite of it all, it just wasn't where i went. i didn't find it necessary.) for the most part my eyes were closed. we had learned in our bradley class that in this phase in between contraction, the laboring woman should be in a sleep-like trance. this seemed to come naturally to me. i would have loved to watch but i was too exhausted and too internal to do this. but touching the head was confirmation of how far we had come. he was almost here!

shortly thereafter our midwife gowned up. i must have looked seriously defeated because she looked at me and said, "i don't put this gown on for nothing. we are almost there." she had started rubbing mineral oil into my perineum to aid in the stretching. it is the general practice to use surgilube, but our doula had brought the mineral oil, which even the midwife said worked MUCH better. she would then put two fingers on each side of his head to aid in the stretching of my vagina with the goal of preventing a tear. it hurt. it burned. it was not comfortable. so i let her know. "nicole, i do not like that." she responded, "i know but it is going to help." "nicole, i do not like that." "that's not me, that's your baby." in my head i was thinking, "give me a friggin' break," but i actually was able to reason that i knew it would help. (incidentally, i didn't tear really at all. i had what the professionals call "skid marks", essentially vaginal abrasions - but no stitches required!) as his head emerged further she was having a hard time telling its orientation. "stop pushing" she said. so i did. i thought maybe the cord was wrapped around his neck. in fact, the baby had his left hand crossing over to cuddle his right cheek, palm facing in. this meant he was coming out slightly cock-eyed and the midwife needed to get his hand into a safer, less twisted place. this explained a few things - the slow progressing of the 2nd phase (given that he had in fact widened the diameter that needed to pass through my vagina), the pain against my tailbone, and the hematoma we would find on his head after birth. once she got him better situated, the head started to emerge further. after one big push, i felt immediate release. the pain was gone. i turned towards dave and asked, "is the head out?" he nodded. "one more push!" the midwife exclaimed. i pushed and, whoosh, out he came. 

the midwife immediately flopped him on my belly. he was beautiful. i started crying and he started screaming. (i guess it is traumatic being born - the only thing more traumatic than giving birth, they say!) i remember gazing down and kissing him all over. he had blue hands and feet, but i knew that was normal and that they should pink up in a few minutes. 

dave is a softie and is in touch with his emotional side. i had asked him not to cry during the labor. i was going to be looking to him as my pillar to get through this. if he started crying, what would that mean for me? so he didn't cry. until this moment - he looked at me, eyes brimming, and said, "can i cry now?" i think i laughed and nodded. sheila and my mom were quickly by my side to gaze on the wonder that is our son. 

someone noted out the window, "look the sun is rising." and it was - beautiful rays of gold, orange, pink, and yellow were streaming in. it was the most beautiful morning i had ever witnessed and i've witnessed a few. welcome to the world, charley stephen drake-lovelace. born june 1, 2012 at 5:06am. i suspect our lives will never be the same.

on delivery: they don't call it labor because it is easy

author's note: this may be graphic at times - discussing bodily functions. (remember: i am a nurse. we talk about topics over lunch that would make even those with steel stomaches squeamish.) read at your own peril. :)

everyone had been predicting i would deliver early. it was hard for me to believe and frankly i didn't want to put too much weight into it. too many friends i knew had been late with their first pregnancy and i knew from watching that the last couple weeks could be really hard. so i figured if i expected to go late, but was prepared in case i went early, then maybe i could make the last few weeks a little less miserable.

i had begun to drop by 36 weeks. they say in the first pregnancy you begin to drop between hours to weeks before the initiation of labor, so really it was no surprise. again, i tried not to give this fact too much weight but the pressure was starting to build.

i had been seeing a chiropractor during my pregnancy. first for some pain in my lower back, which was due to some misalignment of the sacro-iliac joint. then continued to go to help with the multiple and many aches and pains of pregnancy. i hadn't gone for awhile, but but beginning to have considerable pain with my round ligaments. i figured another visit couldn't hurt. so i went on wednesday, may 30th. my wonderful chiro did some work right at the pubic symphysis. we had discussed this before - any misalignment at the pubic symphysis could narrow my birth canal, making my goals of a natural labor and delivery, while still achievable, more difficult. so ensuing proper alignement was certainly in my best interest for many reasons.

that evening i felt nauseous and had some loose bowel movements. i felt like it was unlikely to be food poisoning or gastroenteritis, but i didn't know what else it could be. i went to my trusty friend google and found that sure enough, these both can be early symptoms of impending labor. when the hormones start to shift it can cause both nausea and the bowel to empty. could my morning alignment have caused our little baby to drop down further, to put the pressure on my cervix, to release the hormones to initiate labor? i didn't want to believe it, but that little voice kept chirping in the back of my head.

that night, sleeping on the recliner in the sunroom (as i had been for weeks due to reflux, ligament pain, and other general annoyances of the third trimester), i woke a few times throughout the night noting some mild but ignorable cramps. i had had some Braxton-Hicks contractions before, but they were always one in isolation. never before had i had them in my sleep or in a series.

i woke up in the morning on thursday, may 31st. after going to the bathroom, i noted my discharge had changed in color. it had been white and thick (another joy of the third trimester); now it was now a slightly darker color -  not frank blood, but suggestive of bloody show.

when dave woke up, i shared with him that i was having mild, but now noticeable consistent cramps. they were coming only ~2 times an hour, but seemed to be kind of regular. we had some errands to run. it was interesting walking through the mall with contractions. at the apple store, having my crashed computer looked at, i was glad dave was with me. he could maintain conversation with the "apple genius", so that i could lean against the counter when the "cramps" came. i was beginning to question were these cramps, Braxton-Hicks contractions, or the real deal...

we happened to have an appointment with our midwife group that afternoon for our 38 week check-up. the contractions were now coming 2-3 times per hour. incidentally, i had lost 2 pounds from my previous week's appointment. the midwife did an internal exam. we were hesitant about having the internal (and the midwife was certainly not pushy about it, but offered it instead as a possible option.) ultimately, we decided to go for it as a means of gathering information. she checked and i was only dilated 1cm, but effaced 90%.  she did find evidence of bloody show with the exam, confirming my suspicions from the morning. she told us she suspected we were at the precipice of labor. she stated that she had found empirically many patients would lose weight the week of labor. she didn't know why but she had seen it often in her years of experience. she told us while we weren't necessarily going to go into labor that day, she anticipated it happening within the week. it was thursday - she told us she was on-call at the hospital saturday night. she expected she would find us with our baby there by then.

this was good news! we called the doula and gave her a heads-up. it was also election week for the recall of our state governor - a recall which we strongly supported. so we did what any responsible citizen would do. we went and casted our absentee ballot for his opponent.

we went home and decided while this wasn't for sure, we should act like it was, just in case. so we did what we learned. i ate a small lunch and laid down on the couch. these were 2 things that could stall/stop false labor if it were and would be important for the long road ahead if it weren't.

as the hours passed, the contractions increased in frequency and intensity. by 7pm we began to think, this had to be it. i was feeling a little nervous - if this weren't it, i feared i wouldn't be able to take the "real thing". if this was it, i was still afraid i wasn't going to be able to make it. it really hurt. at one point, i looked at dave and began to cry: "do you realize, if this is really it, we are going to meet our son soon?". he started to cry too.

we tried lots of positions we had learned in our classes. on the exercise ball. on hands and knees. i was most comfortable in the glider. but i wasn't really comfortable. we had learned that the contractions were intense, but that there would be moments of calm in between, in which i was supposed to relax, rest, save my energy. but those moments of calm never really came. there were moments of less pain, but never of no pain. it was hard for me to tell if the contractions were starting and stopping, coming or going. dave encourage me to keep moving."try the shower! try the shower!" ok, fine - i decided to try the shower.

WOW- why didn't i listen to dave earlier? finally i was having breaks between the contractions - or close to it. the contractions themselves seem to space out more regularly as well. i would lean in a lunge against the shower wall when the contractions came. i stayed in there until i was out of hot water.

the contractions continued out of the shower and again i lost those moments of calm. i started throwing up with the more severe contractions. i didn't have much in me as i hadn't eaten since the early afternoon, but it was rough. and of course given the pressure on my bladder, when i would retch, it would cause me to pee (to add insult to injury). i went through a couple pairs of sweat pants by the time i thought of wearing a pad to catch the urine, which i could change as needed.

dave had been talking on and off to our doula. she didn't really believe us in the beginning that we were in labor. she was guessing it was false labor. she kept having dave put the phone on speaker so she could hear me...moan, i suppose. finally, she recognized this as the real deal. she gave us support over the phone, offering suggestions of positions. finally, around 8:45pm, she told us she was on the way over. (we both breathed a sigh of relief. though neither of us had said anything out loud, the frequency and intensity of my contractions had scared both of us. we were both nervous of waiting too long at home. and my labor didn't seem to be following textbook...though i wonder if anyone's does.)

meanwhile we had to notify the rest of our birth team. we knew early on that we wanted my mom there. my mom and i are extremely close. we haven't always seen eye-to-eye and sometimes seemed to be wired differently emotionally, but we got over most of that stuff in my 20's. now, she is an ally, close friend, and great mom role model. we also had asked two of my close friends to be present. one, andrea, whose child's birth i had witnessed the year prior, we knew might not make it due to said child. the other, sheila, was a sure thing. but, everyone was coming from afar: my mom from chicago - about 90 miles from milwaukee and my 2 friends from madison - 75 miles away. we had given them all a heads up in the early evening that we may be calling them later on. my mom, incidentally, was to be on her way up to milwaukee for a long weekend with my brother and his kids. we called her and she was about midway. we told her to forget going to my brother's and to head straight over. we called andrea too, but got no answer. we left a message, but figured she was likely unavailable because of parenting responsibilities. we notified sheila who was asleep prior to our call, but said she'd jump in the shower to wake up and head this way.

mom arrived first and then our doula. they encouraged me and helped support dave who was providing lots of counter pressure to my hips and quads. soon enough, our doula recommended we go to the hospital. i was secretly relieved. i was very glad to have labored for the early part at home, but i was happy to know i have completed that milestone. it made me feel like i was making progress.

it was cold and pouring rain on our ride to the hospital. we were taking 3 separate cars for the 4 of us. (meanwhile, sheila was still on her way and planning to meet us at the hospital.) our doula had advised me not to panic in the car. it was going to be harder - to be constrained and unable to move or react much when the contractions came. we knew things were really serious when i told dave to slow down. ordinarily i tease dave about driving too slow. but at this time every bump or crack in the road felt enormous. but we made it to the hospital, a quick 10-15 minute drive from the house, and were checking in around midnight.

to be continued...

on choosing natural childbirth: plan ahead and prepare

i knew i wanted a natural childbirth. or thought i did. but i was scared. scared of the pain, no lie. i had a few close friends who made this choice before me and i had heard about its many benefits. it seemed like the right thing for me. but it was terrifying. what if i couldn't do it? what if the pain was too much. what if it went on too long. what if there were complications. what if the baby was HUGE. whatif, whatif, whatif! (cue poem.)

Whatif by Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:

Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

but ultimately it was what Dave and i chose to aim for. we accept that the whole process would not be under our control, but that we could design a preference plan, that if things went the way we hoped, we could have some control of the decisions of our labor and delivery. and really, i let go of the fear. by the third trimester, i was really looking forward to labor instead of dreading it. i wanted to live the experience. 


we knew that in order to be best prepared for a natural childbirth we have to do some pre-work. it helps that Dave and i are both researchers by nature. we started by researching birth classes. honestly, we didn't do a ton of leg work. our midwife whom we had developed a good relationship by this point recommended the Bradley method and i had heard of it from a close friend who had experience two successful natural childbirths. we went to a "video night" by one of the certified teachers in the area. (the other had begun teaching a modified version of Bradley and so we weren't sure it would be what we were looking for.) she was unique and quirky, but clearly passionate about childbirth and the Bradley method. while we didn't necessarily connect directly to the teacher, we knew she would give us an excellent class. and it was.


likewise, we begun our massive hunt for a doula. a doula is a kind of birth coach. it is hard to put into words what they offer as it really depends what you are looking for. for us, we knew dave would be my main coach. but as neither of us had been through this before, we wanted a sort of tour guide who could help point out mile markers along the way. we wanted to labor at home for the beginning but knew we would struggle with the decision of when to go to the hospital. we wanted the doula to help support dave help support me and help support both of us around birth preference choices we had.


by making these preparations and developing our birth preferences to share with the nurses and midwife who would be working with us, we felt like we were better prepared and knew what to expect in the hospital. it also gave me a sense of control over something that was very foreign and unknown. and beyond that, all we could do was believe that things would work out as we hoped.

on pregnancy...the second and third trimesters

I've realized that I need to speed things up here as not only are we at my due date but in fact are now sharing our lives with a beautiful two-week old child. But we'll get to that.

The second trimester for me was particularly blissful. With the stress of the first trimester aside and my raging acid reflux better managed, I felt good. People said I was glowing. I did see it too - my normally alabaster skin tone was infused with a rosiness quite rare for me especially in the dead of winter. Scientifically, I told myself it had to be the increase in red blood cells giving my skin a pinker glow, but who knows. There doesn't always have to be a reason. And Dave and I fell into a rhythm. We managed to ski, snowshoe, and enjoy our normal winter activities, with care. We traveled to see his parents for a winter respite in Wyoming as well as with my family for a spring get-away in Florida. And baby continued to grow.

It was reassuring that we had monthly ultrasounds. We were able to get glimpses of our growing baby and continue to monitor him. And he thrived. Each month he got bigger and bigger and continued to rank in well above the fifty percentile for fetuses of similar age. So we made lots of jokes about how the fibroid, which had seemed to max out at 12cmx12cmx12cm (grapefruit sized), was his pillow, imaginary friend, and my second baby.

Meanwhile, everybody loved to weigh in. I was carrying very much in front so everyone was shocked at how "big" I was. However at the midwife's every month, I measured point on. It is funny how people love to comment on other women's bodies. You would think we would be more sensitive! It never phased me though. In part, I was so delighted to be pregnant and because we were worried about the baby's growth I was happy to look pregnant and rotund. I felt beautiful and vital.

The third trimester was slightly less delightful. While I had gained only the minimum weight recommended, my body was starting to hurt. My hips and round ligaments took the brunt of it, such that sleeping on my side, both my preferred sleeping position and the only one advised at this late stage of pregnancy, was impossible. And reflux again reared its ugly head, though not nearly as fiercely as in the first trimester. One of our midwives advised early on - if you don't have a comfy recliner, I would get one - I suspect you will be sleeping in it by the end. Indeed. (Thanks Dad for the donation of yours!) But I did manage to sleep reasonable. And it is no joke about the diminishing bladder capacity as the baby drops. I would have to run to the bathroom every couple hours, day or night, barley making it without peeing my pants, to then only go an ounce or two. Totally unsatisfying.

But we were geared up for the long haul. I don't know why they give women a "due date". The odds that the baby will arrive on said date are slim. And in fact, the baby is considered full-term up to two weeks before and after the "due date". So why not just give a month range (or whatever period of time they would allow the pregnancy to continue without intervention). We kept a loose mentality about it. I had seen many of my friends struggle at the end when their due date came and went with no labor in sight. But in the end we didn't have to test our theory of acceptance. Like many predictions we had received, our baby chose to be an early bird.

on pregnancy...the first trimester +

i have to say it, i love being pregnant. even during the worst part (and as i am in the heart of the third trimester, i might be in it), there is joy.

the first trimester was hard...emotionally. physically i did ok. i was lucky *i know*. i did not suffer from very dehabilitating morning sickness. i did suffer with some really weird symptoms of coughing and vomiting at night (so i did have my share of vomiting) that took me awhile to recognize that it was reflux (much thanks to my mother-in-law, Jen!) but it was scary. i am a worrier - i guess it is in my genes and my nature. i did worry that something would go wrong. but it didn't - and each passing week was more and more reassuring. i found it hard to keep it secret too. this was the right choice for me...in part because of my fears, but it was hard not to shout it from the roof tops. so instead i told my close family and oldest friends, those i knew i would need to rely on if something did go wrong.

we found out in the 12th week during our first ultrasound that i had a fibroid growing. it was one of the moments...i had been feeling something firm and round rising in my abdomen from pretty early on in the pregnancy. all the books and websites we had been scouring said you could not feel the uterus this early on in the pregnancy because it was sitting too low in the pelvis. i kept joking that we were having twins or it was a fibroid. (what is that expression about every joke having some truth in it...even unknowingly.)

it was at my second appointment with the midwives that i totally lost it. balled in front of the midwife we had just met, who would eventually become a real ally and support person for us. i was overreacting really. blame it on the pregnancy hormones. because i did the worse thing you could do in this situation (and yet the thing most people do anyway). i googled.

what were the results:
Miscarriage.
Intrauterine growth restriction.
Pre-term labor.

and on and on and on.

this life that i hadn't yet begun to feel was already in jeopardy. it's amazing to feel so protective of something so intangible so early.

i'm lucky to have a husband who reminded me to be joyful. that we still had so much to celebrate. so with great trepidation on my part, we announced to the world at 13+ weeks, we were pregnant. and my friends and family stepped up to the challenged and dragged me out of my doom and gloom (just as Dave said they would). i began to feel joy and hope again. and excited about where this journey may lead.

soon thereafter we were readily assured that things would likely be ok. i had an MRI which was nearly insufferable, but reassuring. the fibroid was outside of the uterus, above it so it wouldn't interfere with labor, and the placenta was on the opposite side so it would hopefully not disrupt essential blood flow. as good as it can be "given the circumstances" (what a terrible expression).

soon i felt my belly expanding and began to feel the bliss that is the second trimester.