Birth story draft

Rhett and I met with my obstetrician for my weekly check on the morning of 12/16 knowing that we would be discussing induction. We had decided that we wanted to try to bring Matthew into the world while he was still small enough to deliver vaginally, safely. The previous week's ultrasound indicated that he was still under 8 pounds, but we knew that he would grow quickly if we waited. So we scheduled the induction for 8pm that same day. We went to lunch, Rhett finished up a few things at the office, I squeezed in final prenatal appointments with my chiropractor and acupuncturist, we arranged care for Daniel, and in no time we were checking in to begin!

After check in paperwork, the induction began with a low dose of pitocin. Karen, a dear friend whom we asked to join us for Matthew's birth arrived around 9pm. The doctor arrived a couple hours later and broke my water. I was 2cm at that time. And they increased the pitocin a bit but I was still comfortable enough to rest and thought it wise to do so. We all rested as well as we could, but that was hard with the multitude of nurses, techs, medical assistants, etc. coming in and out all the time to do and check things throughout the night. Still, things were going smoothly and we were happy and grateful.

In the morning, we got a new nurse. She was a chipper but "all business," "no nonsense", very efficient personality. Competent, knowledgable, trustworthy vibe. A good leader. As labor progressed there were some moments during which Matthew's heart rate readings were concerning, I developed a fever that gave several people anxiety, another time during which labor seemed to stall and we needed to either progress or do a c-section. She never panicked, and neither did we. We did all pray and meditate, we called on God and Jesus and all the angels. We felt them with us throughout. During naps (and I slept a lot) I dreamed the faces of one angel after another. I felt like I was being visited by all the angels of all the prayers and positive energies that were being offered up for Matthew.

Around 5pm an urgency developed around the timeline for Matthew's delivery. I'd had an epidural but there were problems with it throughout the day and the pain was more than I could handle. And at 9cm, I was in so much pain I gave up on the vaginal birth that had meant so much to me.

Rhett, Karen, and to an extent, the nurse who had by then grown on me became my faith and my strength. I can't even guess how many times I cried out to them, "Help me!" I didn't know how they would help me but they always did.

The most important gift Rhett and Karen gave to me was that as they heard and reflected back to me my words and my beliefs that I couldn't continue, they also somehow literally gave me their strength as they also conveyed their faith that I could do this, and they helped me realize how close we were and how much I would certainly regret giving up at that point. They helped me look past the pain and see that Matthew's vital signs were great, that my vital signs were fine, and that most of my fear was based on the traumatic experiences of Daniel's birth. I realized that there was not a right or wrong in general, only a right and wrong for me and for Matthew. For us, we needed to commit and to give him the most natural path into the world that we could.

By 6:30 I was learning to push (yes, that has to be learned) and at 7 We were working on pushing out a baby. Our favorite nurse's shift ended and she had to leave. That was unfortunate but this was the end game and we had to stay focused on the goal. Rhett was giving me energetic and emotional support. Karen was doing the same, plus coaching me on what type of breathing and when and how to push. The doctor, who had arrived prepared to fulfill my request for a c-section learned that I wanted to proceed vaginally, assessed, and concluded that indeed, we were a go to bring Matthew without surgery, but that Matthew was having a hard time getting low enough and probably needed some help. He suggested using a vacuum and I agreed to that. I wish I were clearer about exactly what happened and when after that, but it's really quite a blur to me at that point. I was in a lot of pain and was pretty cognitively disorganized. And weirdly, I kept falling asleep! My memory basically picks up with the doctor saying enthusiastically that he was excited and happy and proud of me and that we were about to have a baby. And there was happy excitement all around.

Then my memory goes blurry again, but I don't think it was long and I think it was pretty sudden that I was waking up again and there were something like 8 hospital staff surrounding me and they were all yelling a lot! They were mostly yelling at me. Some were yelling push, others yelling don't push, some yelling push harder. Sometimes they were yelling at each other too. There was also a lot of pushing. Pushing each other some, pushing on me a lot. The doctor yelled at them all to stop and that helped calm the chaos, but also allowed me to hear him when he uttered phrases like "the worst dystocia I have ever seen" and announcing that he was about to cut me. Those were hard to hear. But Karen somehow found and  squeezed herself into a tiny crack between hospital staff to get to me so I could hear one voice that I could trust and follow. She guided me to focus my energy and reminded me of my particular gifts and how I needed to use them at that moment for Matthew. I held onto her voice like a life raft and was anchored.

In what was either an eon or an instant, the doctor and several people announced that Matthew was out of me and most of the chaotic cast of hospital characters raced him to a baby intervention table and started doing whatever they do. As we had planned if Matthew and I had to be separated at birth, Rhett went with Matthew, so I have to ask Rhett for the details about what all happened there, but they didn't get around to the usual height and weight stuff for a long time.

As Matthew was being resuscitated or whatever they were doing to get him to be okay and cry, the doctor acknowledged that he was feeling really shaken up, saying that the VBAC hadn't been worth it, that it should have been a c-section, that he was going to change his policies to refuse VBACs in cases like mine... Lots of what sounded like bitterness at first. But it took him about half an hour to sew me up and as he sewed, he processed out loud, and indicated that although he had done good work in getting Matthew into the world safely, he ultimately attributed the good outcome to "the man upstairs."

And the thing is, as dramatic and chaotic as it was, it truly was a great outcome! I certainly feel like I've been run over by a train but I'm more mobile and feel more emotionally and spiritually intact than I did after my c-section. And Matthew may be a little bruised and cone headed for a few days, but he's perfect. Just absolutely perfect.

Since the first opportunity, Matthew has been an enthusiastic breast feeder; very affirming to his mama who wasn't too confident about breast feeding. This hasn't facilitated good sleep at all but it's done wonders for my mood! Daniel is enchanted with his brother. Rhett and I are probably still processing but we are awed by the blessing Matthew is and by his resilience in doing so well after such a difficult journey into the world.

As I write this, Matthew is nestled peacefully against my chest and Rhett and Daniel are at home sleeping. We are hopeful that we will be discharged tomorrow and we will be allowed to begin our life together as a family of four.

I am profoundly changed forever and grateful beyond words. Truly. There simply are no words. The best I have at present are that I am grateful to and for Matthew's little warrior spirit. Even from inside the womb he broadcast "I'm okay. I can handle this" no matter how rough things got. And I'm so very grateful to and for Rhett! He stayed so calm and grounded, flexible while focused on helping me give Matthew the journey into the world that was right for him, even when I couldn't focus or think clearly at all. I am blown away by Karen. I still can't believe this is the first time she has ever been a companion for a child's birth. How did we get so fortunate as to have such a wise and powerful soul with us? And to God and all the angels. They were with us from before the beginning, and they filled us and surrounded us with love and light. Via Facebook, during calm moments, we got your messages and knew that your love, support, positive energies, and heartfelt prayers were with us too, and we are so thankful for them!

From the NST room. This was the last NST!

Dear Matthew,
I write to you from the glamorous throne of the NST room at the obstetrician's office. NST stands for non-stress test, and they want this test to evaluate how you're doing, but I'm quite certain you're under no stress in there. You seem quite content. I'm trying to enjoy what I hope will be your final moments in utero, but by the time you read this you will have met me. So you'll know how that's probably been going for the last week or so.

As my favorite book on pregnancy aptly points out, just about the time that a pregnant woman stops being terrified that the least little thing will bring baby into the world too soon, she becomes convinced that she will be pregnant forever. Yeah, I can see how they elf feel that way. But I'm not going to be pregnant forever. In fact, I'm not going to be pregnant for longer than one more week. The question is by what method will I cease to be pregnant?

My preference for us both is that surgical implements and immobility inducing meds not be part of the equation, so I'm trying to encourage things along. In fact, encouraging things along is pretty much a full-time job at this point.

Topically, I'm using lavender oil, castor oil, and spearmint oil. Internally, basil and evening primrose oil. I'm diffusing clary sage oil. I do squats and run up and down stairs, I sit on floors and bounce on birthing balls and have just added the trampoline. I crawl on my hands and knees and clean things (amazing what you find when you hang out on hands and knees). I have begun the faithful and intensive uses of reflexology, massage therapy, acupuncture, and chiropractor.

Since none of that had worked enough by yesterday I decided to try one of those "whatever can go wrong will" risks by sending my car to the detailers and being home alone with no easily accessible way to the hospital. I was pretty confident that 4 hours of that would get you moving. Alas, no. You are, in fact, so comfy in there that a nurse just came into the NST room to wake you up. You didn't like her method. She was very aggressive on top of my belly banging spoons. It was quite jarring! Like a miniature jackhammer. But it certainly woke you up.

I hope very much that any of the above methods convince you to come out, but if they don't, there's Cripple Creek! Some local Coloradoans swear that a trip to Cripple Creek will do the job. So a friend and I have made plans to head up the mountain on Thursday if you aren't out yet. The options are way less fun and natural after Sunday, so come on, sweet one. Let's do this!

Full term and the stakes are getting higher. Happy Thanksgiving!

Good Morning, Beloved Boy!

It's barely past 5am and it's warm, dark, and silent all around me. I love this time. It's when I'm able to be most connected to you. It's also Thanksgiving Day. Gratitude overwhelms me as I lie here. I am so very grateful for so many blessings, and in this moment I am so deeply aware that I am especially grateful for you.

You will be here really soon one way or another, and we are ready! There's nothing left that you really need. Items have been installed, assembled, and organized. Your dad and I marvel at your size and health. Your brother touches my belly and talks to you, fully confident that you can hear and understand him. You have a whole family of love awaiting you. And on that note, it's time for you to come out to meet us.

We had a rough appointment at the doctor a couple of days ago. After preparing myself cognitively and emotionally to schedule a c-section and looking at calendars, attempting to schedule around many factors, I was told that the placenta has moved to a safe distance from the cervix and that, what's more, your head circumference is in the 50th percentile. Your total weight is estimated to be in the 94th percentile but that weight is in your belly and legs, which sounds easier to me to deliver than a giant head like that which put an end to your brother's vaginal birth. It appears to me that you have an excellent chance of shimmying safely down the birth canal into the world, which is the birth I'd wanted for us both. 

Our doctor, who has been rather kind and supportive throughout this blessedly healthy and easy (though uncomfortable) pregnancy, appears to have lost his gentleness, kindness, and respect for my right to decide what's right for my body and for you, and has, quite frankly, pissed me off. (I apologize for that language, but I don't intend for you to read this until you're an adult and are probably accustomed to that expression). After the very encouraging ultrasound, the doctor walked into the room talking so fast he sounded manic, and tried HARD to strong arm me into scheduling a c-section. And he would really like to schedule it on the Tuesday before my due date (a date I'm not comfortable with for personal reasons).

Here's the deal... I am not dumb and I'm not crazy. If a c-section is required to get you here safe and healthy, I will march joyfully into the operating room and present my torso for slicing. But I am also not an object, and neither are you, and I am *extremely* opposed to being railroaded into making decisions for my body and my baby without adequate time to ponder them. He wanted me to go from the ultrasound in which I learned all this information that pointed to the possibility of having a vaginal birth, to signing away my right to that vaginal birth in under 45 minutes. I don't even decide what I'm going to have for lunch in under 45 minutes these days. (Hospital policies, he doesn't want to repeat history, and a ski trip were all mentioned in his logic for the expectation that I conform to the surgical recommendation... Again, he's usually great. He has just lost his mind. I hope temporarily).

At the time, I managed to refuse to decide anything and I emphasized that if we schedule a C-Section it will not be on 12/16. And that was about all I could handle during that appointment. Since then, I've kicked things up. I have scheduled acupuncture and chiropractic appointments and arranged for your dad to use his massage therapist magic tricks daily to do things to my feet that will, purportedly and hopefully, induce labor. There are other things one does to naturally induce labor but since I would like to preserve a mother-son boundary, I won't detail those here. If you need such information to bring your own child into the world someday, consult the internet. It won't be hard to find.

So here's where we stand. It's Thanksgiving and I am over the moon with gratitude for you! I know the time is running out for me to feel your rolls and stretches and well aimed liver kicks. Thank-you for being you and thanks to God for sending you to join our family! And also, with all of my heart, I adore you, but you simply have to leave my body. Leave my body while you are small enough for me to deliver without tremendous drama or having to fight off a cavalcade of a%^*}%#s who are similarly prone to bullying when they get anxious. Trust that the life into which we are calling you is good. Trust that we will keep you safe. Your body will be warm; your belly will be full; and your days will be filled with exploring a world that welcomes you and the plan God has for you.

Pack up, sweet beloved. Your home and your family are ready. And with only a day or two's margin of error, so are you.

33 weeks, 3 days...

Dear Matthew,

I'm blown away by how little time is left until we meet you. Six weeks, four days until you're due; five weeks, four days until you're likely to arrive. Calling us ready at this point would overstate it; but we aren't that far off. My nesting to do list is really all that's left, and getting your car seat. In the last couple of days I've had a bit more energy, which I've really needed. I have some of the usual pregnancy complaints, but I'm really feeling okay. I do complain a lot. Your dad has been incredibly sweet about it, though. He just pets my belly and tells me how excited he is that I'm incubating you :-). 

I'm continuing to enjoy  getting to know you through your rolling, pokes, kicks, and dancing. You're still more active than your brother was by this point. Your dad's mom says that's how your dad was in utero. Always, always moving! I don't know how I was in utero, but that's how I usually am now (when I'm not pregnant). 

I try to also be still and be present with you, to get to know you through emotional and spiritual connection. It is impossible, of course, to know how much of what I sense is accurate and how much my brain interferes, but I sense a warrior's spirit in you. I sense in you tremendous enthusiasm and energy, as well as resilience, passion, and courage. I feel your strong-will and big heart. I could be wrong, but that's what I'm getting when I meditate and am most able to be really still.

Whether I'm describing you accurately or not is not important. What matters is that we are connecting as well as we can for now and that you will be here soon. I'm ready for you. We all are. We can't wait to meet you, beloved boy!

To Matthew from Daniel

dear Matthew'

I love you. I can tell you your going to be new, so don't cry :-( when we yell. :-)      I love you. you will have accidents. You will have to drink milk.  do you know that Daniel is texting ? 

love Daniel 

p.s but the rest of my grown up people like you. love Daniel 

p.s I'm  done texting ok? Ok love Daniel 

Almost 31 weeks :)

October 19, 2014

Dear Matthew,

As of today, there are 9 weeks, 1 day left till you are due. 64 days! You really seem to be doing well, though I must say, you are enormous. I measured two weeks further along than I really am at the doctors appointment last Wednesday, which supports the existing theory created by the 28 week ultrasound that your overall size will be in the 97th percentile. Ultrasound measurements aren't generally all that reliable, but you do seem huge. 

An additional update from that appointment is that your (my?) placenta hasn't moved yet. I still have a marginal previa. That was sad for me to hear because I really want to be able to bring you into the world the old fashioned way. It won't be safe to do that if the placenta doesn't move in time. I haven't given up hope, though. The final ultrasound isn't till week 36. I'll continue to hope until then; and in the end, getting you here safely is what matters most.

I feel like I'm getting to know you already, mostly based on your patterns of movement. In this way, it's so clear to me how much you are already your own person. I love the way you roll around so gently and adorably; and how at other times you punch and kick like a prize fighter. Your jabs and gymnastics are so powerful people can see them with their peripheral vision! You get especially active when John Denver's Sesame Street Performance plays on YouTube and whenever I drink milk. 

Despite the heightened chance of c-section, my body is still working to prepare for you. The tendons in my hips are loosening and Braxton Hicks contractions are mild but frequent. You have usurped the space once allocated for my lungs so I'm short of breath, and my nose is often stuffy. But  this is all ok. I haven't been unbearably uncomfortable except for today, when I wore very high heels to church (because my reasonable, sensible heels don't fit my pregnant feet anymore).

All of us are so excited to meet you. We look forward to meeting you in just two more months.

Love, Mom

P.S. I was going to say a couple more months, but your brother is looking over my shoulder and pointed out that you might not know what "a couple" means, so I should say two instead. He's already looking out for you :-) 

Hey LG (little guy),
I was chatting with a friend this morning and it came up that you got really animated during a wretchedly loud thunder storm the other week.  I'm 22.5 weeks now, so I think that was right at 20 weeks.  That means violent thunder was probably one of the very first things you ever heard.  I'm so sorry about that.  :(.  I hope you've forgiven this world by now.  I promise, it is usually much gentler than that.

Love you :)

20.5 weeks - halfway there!

Dear Matthew,

We have been on this journey together for 20 weeks now.  I wonder what it's felt like to you.  Probably an eternity!  But the time is flying by from my perspective. 

On the medical front (which doesn't seem especially informative, but here it is in case you wonder someday)… A couple weeks ago we had your anatomy scan and you looked perfect.  You measured right on track in every dimension except a biggish tummy, and I'm guessing that's because I fed you all those cheese straws ;-).  The placenta that feeds you has inconveniently planted itself right next to my cervix, which really didn't surprise me much.  I could tell I was feeling something going on down there earlier than was normal.  So, when the tech told me, I really wasn't concerned.  The doctor was a little more anxious about it, but he and the tech both reassured me that as long as I don't jostle you around too much, the placenta will almost certainly move out of the way and allow us to proceed with that VBAC.  For now, it doesn't seem to cause you any challenges and you really seem to be doing well! 

Although it feels like time is passing quickly, I have been working joyfully to prepare for you.  The co-sleeper is in place, I have your non-newborn cloth diapers and you have a small wardrobe washed and on hangers awaiting you.  I'm researching strollers and babywearing contraptions, and a friend is even organizing a shower to celebrate your impending arrival!  Tonight your brother took his sibling class and learned what he will need to know in order to change your diaper, to swaddle you, to hold you, and to play with you.  He has also made 13 videos, so far, in a series he's recording to teach you everything you'll need to know in life.  Your swing is nestled snuggly the room you will (eventually) share with your brother, and every bedtime he practices kissing a stuffed bear (who stands in for you) "goodnight." 

As we have entered the second half of our pregnancy, my thoughts have turned somewhat to labor and to your birth.  I'm really wondering if at any level you have a sense of what's coming, and if you know how eagerly we await your entry.  Your due date is in 19 weeks and 4 days, and we are hoping you'll be coming vaginally.  So far everything looks like that can happen, and that's my deepest hope.  I'm also hoping you'll come when your body is ready, knowing that you are coming into a family and space that is safe and ready for you.  It will be different out here, yes; but not in the most important ways.  And the love awaiting you out here is absolutely boundless.

In other important readiness ingredients, a while back I asked our friend Karen to join us in the delivery room while I'm in labor.  I knew both your dad and I would need some support that we wouldn't necessarily be able to give to one another, and I had an intuitive sense that if Karen were willing and able, that her energy and presence would be especially valuable to you as well.  She said yes, and I've been feeling enormously more confident about labor ever since.  A few weeks later, and a couple weeks ago, she gave me a fantastic massage and gave both of us some pretty incredible energy work.  It felt to me like you were meeting her and you were absolutely giddy!  It was fun and funny and sweet and just wonderful.  I hadn't ever been so aware of how you were doing as I was when you were under her hands, and I wouldn't give anything for it.  Since then, I've had an increasingly clear sense of your presence in me, and not just that you are there, but how you are doing.  I really do sense your happiness and lightness, and I really can't wait to meet you. 

You'll hear from me many times before then, but just so you know what I'm so eagerly pondering tonight, I'll see you in December!

Love, Mom

16 weeks

Wrote this a couple weeks ago but didn't get it posted till now...

7/6/14
Dear Little One,

We are just shy of 16 weeks into this 40-ish week journey together, and I'm starting to sense you more and more.  I feel your tiny movements now and enjoy getting to know you in the little ways I can.  I know that you like hanging out on the left side of my body and that although the nurse at the OB's said I'm carrying high, you seem to prefer to be low.

It's strange to be coming into motherhood again, this time as your mom.  In some ways, the experience is familiar.  Nausea, exhaustion, excitement, anxiety, learning that you are healthy at each step, learning that you are a boy...  The list goes on.  But in so many ways it's so very clear to me that this experience is completely new, and many of those differences are much harder to express in words.

I don't have the wide-eyed innocence I had when I was pregnant before.  I have known babies who've died and babies with all sorts of diseases and we've faced Autism in our own family.  I know what studies project as the statistical likelihood of us facing it again and I know the uselessness and damage perpetrated by knowledge of these numbers.  So, I won't lie.  I have some fears, and although I'm usually pretty centered about those fears, I'm doing some things differently this time in the hopes of creating for you the healthiest prenatal environment that I can, and I'm grateful that our life circumstances and the resources available to us are radically different than they were in our first journey into parenthood.

Paradoxically, I'm in many ways far less anxious, opinionated, and inclined toward dogmatism than I was in my first pregnancy.  I've come to believe that parents should parent the child they have, and not the child they read about in books.  I do have some firm opinions about how to parent well, but I also have a lot of faith in God and the resilience God gives to us when we are formed, and thus, I have enormous faith in you.

Because I believe so much that parenting is about relationship and giving what is needed or most life affirming, I'm incredibly eager to know you.  To be honest, I'm not patient enough about this.  I know that every person born is unique and that I must prepare to be your mother in a brand new way; still myself, but also yours.

I hope I'm the mom you deserve.  I know I will hit some home runs, that sometimes I'll completely blow it, and that most times won't be that dramatic; but on balance, I hope I'm a good mom.  I'm certainly going to do my best.

I hope you're doing well in there and I hope you can already feel how much I love you.

Mom

6 weeks, 6 days

May 4, 2014, 5:54am

Dear Little One,

I am awakened at 5am by yet another vivid but unrecallable dream.  It's too early for wakefulness and the day ahead would surely benefit from the rest the next two hours ought to bring.  But here we are.  I'm glad to be here because in this liminal time and place I sense you with me, just the two of us, here together.  In the quiet, warmth, and darkness I can join you in your quiet, warmth, and darkness.  It's too soon for more.  I have nothing to say about it, and nothing profound to say to you, to record for when you're an incarnate adult.  This is all.  Just awareness that shifts me from the place of knowledge (the one in which my brain says "the test says you are in there so you must be") to an accepted and deeply knowing place inside my soul.  My brain doesn't talk but our souls meet and say "Namaste."