There is this new online phenom where women have access to a keyboard and they instantly ASSume that there is a cloak of anonymity that clouds them over prior to typing. I have belonged to online communities, blogged, and moderated spaces with other mothers since 1999, and no matter where I have been there is always someone who has a different way of communicating. Some women are downright evil with their tactics as is - you throw the cloak and the assumption that they are safe to say what is on their mind, and you get a variety of speak coming.
In birth, women often turn to the internet to look for momformation. I won't call it information, I will call it momformation. They want the experiences of other mothers - somehow, it's easier to identify with a woman than it is a website sponsored by Nestle. We can all go to babycenter.com (that is my momformation-style community), and interact with others about birth discourse. It turns into a mishmash of topic-of-the moment style discussion and can be very rapid-fire in response style. The nice thing can be, if you need a speedy response to a very pressing question, the internet is there. You have to have a filter, of course. Without a social filter in realizing that people have varying opinions and a variety of life experiences, you can get very caught up in the "drama" of the moment. I admit to following drama and reading along to see what sort of reasoning people use. Dissecting social discourse is something I rather enjoy - maybe I should have been a sociologist or anthropologist - it's all quite interesting to me. Not to mention, the entertainment value that comes with reading. Truly painful and sad moments are not enjoyable to me, sometimes I read to commiserate or learn about how to support others in their own experiences.
Something that happens frequently is the flame war. Hot button issues are presented, usually with a disclaimer, and it unleashes a mad fury or supportive wave or laughter, or the innocent response. Sometimes an intelligent response will come (I love the intelligent responses on PhD in Parenting - she is my favorite blogger in her delivery method of information). I've also experienced being part of a conversation or a post that is rooted in a hot button issue (ie. breastfeeding and formula feeding) and turns into a bevvy of responses in which women relate their personal experience to their stance in either direction, with little reference to the original point of the article. Many of my own family and friends have weighed into the subject with their own feelings about how their experience went, why they were unable to breastfeed and why lactivism (in particular) is inflammatory and offensive to them.
Lately, the other prominent theme has been the eco-conscious way to parent. Whether or not it is rooted in true care for the environment or in attachment parenting, it comes across as either working against the alphaghetti establishment or working for the anti-feminist establishment. As I am a babywearing educator, I see much of this sort of conversation in the world of crotch-danglers (referring to a harness-style carrier) and wearing snobbery. Whether or not you know anything about wearing a baby or what it means to be attached to your child in the literal sense - most of us would agree that we all have our best foot forward when we bring children to the world. We are educated with our wallets as much as we are our ability to read, ask our friends, and socialize ourselves to see how other people survive their days. What we are not doing is spending those moments writing or advocating for the environment. I don't see many mothers in my peer group sitting down to write letters to companies to make better products - we are speaking our minds with our ability to shop our way and consume our way as expression of interest. Some of us would rather point out that a mother should ditch her stroller and buy a carrier in a random facebook comment than we would write a stroller company to ask about hypoxia, off-gassing of their fabric choices, and about how containers could affect their newborn spinal development and interfere with attachment.
The keyboard is an amazing cloak - I lament about this phenom yet take part in the bullying in the same breath. I personally find it harder to tap someone on the shoulder and comment about how their online presence isn't effective for whatever reason. I recognize that confrontation is a weakness, and I recognize why. My goal is to take the higher road - to continue to advocate, continue to rage, continue to make connections with decision makers and continue to read feverishly into the day and night into what is happening in the world. I want to keep commentary going, and to ride this new wave of learning to communicate. Even though my cloak is on as I type this, my true intent with my time is to enact some kind of change in my world and myself.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Reconciliation With Yourself
I'm choosing today to write about my recent observations into healing through our birth processes is going. With much care to preserve confidentiality, if you think this post is about you - you are one of many, many... I am immersed into birth culture at least 8 hours a day, collecting, observing, and trying to make sense of this web (literally) of stories from around North America and even right in my own community.
If one thing unites us across the world, it is birth and death. We all do it, eventually - everything in between conception and the last breath and beat of our hearts is entirely unique and never can be replicated. It's as unique as the DNA we all rode in on - but, we all have to come into the world and come out of it in some fashion.
One of my recent observations is that our culture of birth around the world has some similarity and complication, and it's a story that each woman will recall as often. We sit around and share our stories - even if it's just with one person, we still have a dialogue and in some cases a record of what happened. Medical records are quite fascinating to look through - if you ever get a chance to read your own record, jump on it and have a look. I remember reading the packet I was told to bring with me to the hospital with the brief synopsis of what each person had to report to the doctor. How many births, family history, health of the pregnancy, and the general positioning of the baby. It always fascinates me that I not only have to bring a written record, but to also recall and state my story at least five different times from admission to when the baby is coming out. In three births, I still recall people talking to me while I was having a contraction and asking me about my wishes or any concerns - at this point, I am pretty certain all I was thinking about was probably not much more than how I would process a big plate of chocolate cake on a normal day (if you know me, you know that what goes through my mind around anything sweet is probably entirely focused on eating the cake).
This goes the same when care providers ask women to move during labor, make large decisions (by the way, here is a consent form that you need to officially state you are within sound mind/body, just completely ignore and concentrate on making this huge decision). It's crazy what we expect mothers to challenge their cognition to rise to while expelling a baby.
When it's all done - how do you go through the process of healing? Our body does most of the work itself. We sometimes get help with medicine. We are often asking our families for support once baby comes. Our financial woes are taken care of - EVERYONE wants to buy something for the baby, presumably knowing that as a mother who won't be working, we will definitely need a gift for our baby (wink wink, nudge nudge - it's got NOTHING to do with branding the baby with our intent and energy). If we are lucky, our families will stop by and help with house work, come and hold the baby while we bath or shower, or bring by freezer meals and snacks. Of course, we have to hear the story of how the baby came to be expelled. (I should say - most people really do mean well and want to wish the family luck in their journey, it's not a matter of bad intention, at all... just a matter that is over-shared and I will get to the point shortly...)
Every time a mother has to talk about her experience, she will re-live the experience. In birth trauma, some women will live their experience through repeatedly and with gusto. Her birth will become her identity, she will become a poster child for her style of birthing, and will vow to change it. Other women retreat, and cannot touch it with a ten foot pole. Never speaking of the moment again, whether it resulted in a scar or not. Then there is always someone in between. The common root of the problem - the initial trauma, is that there is no official reconciliation process that is widely known for women in these situations.
We have established breastfeeding clinics. Feeding our babies is definitely a priority (as, it should be) - however, many of us know of women who did not and do not breastfeed for whatever reason - still, the clinic exists. There are many post partum support groups - I know in my community, we have several groups and activities for mothers to attend. ICAN is a wonderful group, I am honored to lead the group here in Regina and organize monthly or bi-monthly events. But, it's somewhat specific in it's aims and isn't official counseling. There is always the option of seeing a psychiatrist when birth trauma is also a pre-cursor to a mental disorder/variation of the normal.
Why don't we have a massive project/undertaking happening for birth reconciliation? I ask this, because I genuinely know many women in society have taken to the internet for learning about birth. We know so much about it, but we no so little about how to turn inward and survive the experience afterwards. It's obvious that women are experiencing birth trauma, right now, in your neighborhood, in your hospital, and even in the home. Women have birthed without the assistance of outside help many times - we have criminalized it in some cases - YET we don't begrudge a doctor for telling a woman that she is incapable and will most certainly kill her baby if she makes a certain choice. I guess we all have bad days and don't always follow any kind of certainty - but, babies are born, women are hurt, and what the fuck do we plan on doing with that? Good luck to you?
Is it a path of reconciliation that each woman is responsible for on her own? Should she rely on her peers? Is health care responsible? My other question would be - how is health care supposed to know how and when and why they damaged someone? Should we "lay down" and just let these things happen?
Just a few thoughts. I am noticing a definite trend of everyone wanting to brand our baby, lay our scent on our baby, yet nobody wants to mop up the tragedy that occurred to us in our minds. We can complain (I encourage people to return their complaints, yet, I haven't been able to mentally register and write my own down), we can warn others, we can gather support for the things I mentioned above - but how to resolve birth... that is a big question.
If one thing unites us across the world, it is birth and death. We all do it, eventually - everything in between conception and the last breath and beat of our hearts is entirely unique and never can be replicated. It's as unique as the DNA we all rode in on - but, we all have to come into the world and come out of it in some fashion.
One of my recent observations is that our culture of birth around the world has some similarity and complication, and it's a story that each woman will recall as often. We sit around and share our stories - even if it's just with one person, we still have a dialogue and in some cases a record of what happened. Medical records are quite fascinating to look through - if you ever get a chance to read your own record, jump on it and have a look. I remember reading the packet I was told to bring with me to the hospital with the brief synopsis of what each person had to report to the doctor. How many births, family history, health of the pregnancy, and the general positioning of the baby. It always fascinates me that I not only have to bring a written record, but to also recall and state my story at least five different times from admission to when the baby is coming out. In three births, I still recall people talking to me while I was having a contraction and asking me about my wishes or any concerns - at this point, I am pretty certain all I was thinking about was probably not much more than how I would process a big plate of chocolate cake on a normal day (if you know me, you know that what goes through my mind around anything sweet is probably entirely focused on eating the cake).
This goes the same when care providers ask women to move during labor, make large decisions (by the way, here is a consent form that you need to officially state you are within sound mind/body, just completely ignore and concentrate on making this huge decision). It's crazy what we expect mothers to challenge their cognition to rise to while expelling a baby.
When it's all done - how do you go through the process of healing? Our body does most of the work itself. We sometimes get help with medicine. We are often asking our families for support once baby comes. Our financial woes are taken care of - EVERYONE wants to buy something for the baby, presumably knowing that as a mother who won't be working, we will definitely need a gift for our baby (wink wink, nudge nudge - it's got NOTHING to do with branding the baby with our intent and energy). If we are lucky, our families will stop by and help with house work, come and hold the baby while we bath or shower, or bring by freezer meals and snacks. Of course, we have to hear the story of how the baby came to be expelled. (I should say - most people really do mean well and want to wish the family luck in their journey, it's not a matter of bad intention, at all... just a matter that is over-shared and I will get to the point shortly...)
Every time a mother has to talk about her experience, she will re-live the experience. In birth trauma, some women will live their experience through repeatedly and with gusto. Her birth will become her identity, she will become a poster child for her style of birthing, and will vow to change it. Other women retreat, and cannot touch it with a ten foot pole. Never speaking of the moment again, whether it resulted in a scar or not. Then there is always someone in between. The common root of the problem - the initial trauma, is that there is no official reconciliation process that is widely known for women in these situations.
We have established breastfeeding clinics. Feeding our babies is definitely a priority (as, it should be) - however, many of us know of women who did not and do not breastfeed for whatever reason - still, the clinic exists. There are many post partum support groups - I know in my community, we have several groups and activities for mothers to attend. ICAN is a wonderful group, I am honored to lead the group here in Regina and organize monthly or bi-monthly events. But, it's somewhat specific in it's aims and isn't official counseling. There is always the option of seeing a psychiatrist when birth trauma is also a pre-cursor to a mental disorder/variation of the normal.
Why don't we have a massive project/undertaking happening for birth reconciliation? I ask this, because I genuinely know many women in society have taken to the internet for learning about birth. We know so much about it, but we no so little about how to turn inward and survive the experience afterwards. It's obvious that women are experiencing birth trauma, right now, in your neighborhood, in your hospital, and even in the home. Women have birthed without the assistance of outside help many times - we have criminalized it in some cases - YET we don't begrudge a doctor for telling a woman that she is incapable and will most certainly kill her baby if she makes a certain choice. I guess we all have bad days and don't always follow any kind of certainty - but, babies are born, women are hurt, and what the fuck do we plan on doing with that? Good luck to you?
Is it a path of reconciliation that each woman is responsible for on her own? Should she rely on her peers? Is health care responsible? My other question would be - how is health care supposed to know how and when and why they damaged someone? Should we "lay down" and just let these things happen?
Just a few thoughts. I am noticing a definite trend of everyone wanting to brand our baby, lay our scent on our baby, yet nobody wants to mop up the tragedy that occurred to us in our minds. We can complain (I encourage people to return their complaints, yet, I haven't been able to mentally register and write my own down), we can warn others, we can gather support for the things I mentioned above - but how to resolve birth... that is a big question.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Qualitative Birth Speak in Regina, 2011
As a birth advocate, birth professional, and someone who is highly invested in women-speak - I feel that there is a definite need for there to be a qualitative review of what I have taken from this year.
Earlier this year, in my pregnancy, I encountered the community of women who were able to finally experience midwifery again. Previously, I had been lucky enough to be under the care of a midwife but unfortunately had the right to a home birth stripped away under legislation. Many times I have asked myself why I didn't just go it the unassisted route anyway - it's what I wanted, I don't think we were under-prepared to accept a baby into the world in our own bed. It wasn't like I didn't consider the thought, and looking back it would have been an experience to cherish for the rest of my days.
My husband - the love, the father, the other accepting arms - was not ready to take that step. I made the choice to honor his wishes and to accept my own bias when making the choice to have a hospital birth. I do feel that it was a choice - we were free, nobody would come to my door and arrest us. I don't believe that our children would be apprehended (although, I do have some wonder if the social services people wouldn't be curious and want to follow us). I don't think it would have done any damage to our baby, although - I don't know. We weren't against intervention if needed. I would have gladly accepted a c-section if that is the way the cookie crumbled. I'm a nurse, too - so there is that to factor in as well.
I really did some soul searching, and I know from the community that many of us thought about bucking the hospital and just having our babies without the hands of anyone. Why didn't we? When talking to friends and other women in the community there were many reasons discussed. Some of us had previous hospital births that really weren't awful - nobody died, our babies came home with us eventually, and maybe the interventions were prudent or seemed to be appropriate for the time.
In looking back - where do I need to heal from my three births?
1. I had an episiotomy without consent in birth number one. My baby was taken to "nursery" and hooked up to IV's, put into a warmer, and monitored for six hours before I got to hold her. Initiation of breastfeeding took too long and we ended up with jaundice and a longer stay than we really needed. I didn't sleep for five days, and at several junctures needed to send my baby to the nursery for "rest". Was told that I had to leave my baby under the bili lights instead of holding her, and I had no idea if I should let her cry or take her out.
2. Of course, we had our midwife loss at 27 weeks. At the hospital, we were left to our devices mostly with our doula, but I still think about why I wasn't given anything for nausea through my IV (I was begging for Zofran, or anything to help stop the vomiting), and the nurse didn't listen to my request not to have the IV in my hand and blew two attempts in my swollen and poor veins. We were in a semi-private room with a woman that had a lot of problems. One nurse came into my room at night to help my mucousy baby, held her upside down and "shook" her to get the mucous out. It was a horrific moment, to watch the nurse man-handle my new baby. It took longer than anticipated to get on the road home (only a few hours, so that is NOTHING worthy of complaining about... but it just seemed like it was only paperwork holding us back, why did we have to "wait"?)
3. Having to stand in emerg and "register" with a baby crowning. It was super dramatic. We had heard stories of the midwife having to stay with us through most of the active labor, and that didn't really happen (but looking back I'm kind of okay with that anyway). Having to transfer at that point in labor wasn't ideal, there was no parking "close" to the hospital doors. ER didn't have a proper wheel chair and there was probably no way to get upstairs without the one we used (but we made do).
In talking with other local mothers this year, the things that ring the loudest are that our midwives were tasked with too many clients, and not nearly enough funding for programs. There was no clear/defined pathway of care. Many women were placed on waiting lists to access services and some where completely unable to get midwifery care - and had very little communication of where it was at through their pregnancies. Some of us (like myself) were told YES home birth was possible, and then NO, and then YES, and then MAYBE... and even more disappointing were told that it wouldn't be possible on weekends, some evenings, and during regular midwifery days off.
None of us directly blame the midwives, per se. We wish there was more communication. It wasn't a sense of entitlement to have a midwife, wasn't to fulfill a trend or a need to brag-book about having a home birth. We all just wanted something under the midwifery model of care.
There was mother-speak about the confusion. Most of all. We talked about it being a new program, about us as pioneers of a new movement in health care. We talked about privately funded midwifery, and we talked about the political actions needed to advance our self worth to the health care system. This is, after all, a boom time in our province and it seemed like it wasn't a priority. None of our election desires were discussed or debated, and both parties had mediocre platforms in relation to midwifery.
We were all given the opportunity to give feedback to the health region via surveys, similar to "customer satisfaction surveys". Some of us sent in postcards from the post card project, some of us talked to the client rep at the hospitals.
Also discussed was the bed-sharing policy at the hospital being changed. We all felt very sad for the story of the mother and babe who were in the media this year, and we talked about possibilities and solutions. The word on my street was that women were feeling like their breastfeeding success would be less with the new policy, and that it seemed like a decision based on legal implications rather than family centered care, or something rooted in evidence.
In a few instances, women had a very difficult time getting appropriate care with their babies. Whether it be accessing consults, pediatric specialty care, and post partum appointments - and even involvement from public health - women had issues and a general lack of consistency.
This is the story of 2011. It's a new program, and birth - so to speak- of the program is labored and highly emotional. It's no different in ANY area of health care, in ANY place in Saskatchewan. Does it mean we will stop? Does it mean it's okay and we will weather the growing pains? Definitely not. It does mean that a rise is definitely needed in maternity services and in healing our community.
I think our ladies do need to come together to talk - but, on the larger scale - what next? We've already re-hashed our stories, but little else has been done. I think this is where health care wins - we move on with our day to day lives, our babies, our scars - and we figure it's really not our time to worry about what is next. It's pretty easy to get lots in the shuffle (don't I know it...where did half of my energy go?) of babies and families. Our husbands are tired of listening to us (at least mine is) complain about how horrible our experiences were - when, really - it's not all that bad.
Think about the REASONS we're sitting on our hands?
- fear of disclosure beyond our accepting circle
- the amount of work required
- re-visiting those moments
- calling to question the actions of others who aren't willing/able to change
- lack of time to put into a cause outside of our families and other places we expel ourselves
- our babies are healthy
- our babies are NOT healthy
- we seem like it's relatively okay
- we are not revisiting it right now
Think about the REASONS we need to rise?
- our sisters in birth are experiencing more instances of birth violence
- our mothers experienced birth - ask your mother how far it has come
- technology is coming
- we can have home birth BUT our c-section rate is still increasing
- midwifery is still only available to a select portion of the population who can beat a waiting list
- stories continue to emerge about how birth experiences are shaping life forward
- we are hopeful for something better
Think about what you can do. How you can help; what you want to contribute.
Earlier this year, in my pregnancy, I encountered the community of women who were able to finally experience midwifery again. Previously, I had been lucky enough to be under the care of a midwife but unfortunately had the right to a home birth stripped away under legislation. Many times I have asked myself why I didn't just go it the unassisted route anyway - it's what I wanted, I don't think we were under-prepared to accept a baby into the world in our own bed. It wasn't like I didn't consider the thought, and looking back it would have been an experience to cherish for the rest of my days.
My husband - the love, the father, the other accepting arms - was not ready to take that step. I made the choice to honor his wishes and to accept my own bias when making the choice to have a hospital birth. I do feel that it was a choice - we were free, nobody would come to my door and arrest us. I don't believe that our children would be apprehended (although, I do have some wonder if the social services people wouldn't be curious and want to follow us). I don't think it would have done any damage to our baby, although - I don't know. We weren't against intervention if needed. I would have gladly accepted a c-section if that is the way the cookie crumbled. I'm a nurse, too - so there is that to factor in as well.
I really did some soul searching, and I know from the community that many of us thought about bucking the hospital and just having our babies without the hands of anyone. Why didn't we? When talking to friends and other women in the community there were many reasons discussed. Some of us had previous hospital births that really weren't awful - nobody died, our babies came home with us eventually, and maybe the interventions were prudent or seemed to be appropriate for the time.
In looking back - where do I need to heal from my three births?
1. I had an episiotomy without consent in birth number one. My baby was taken to "nursery" and hooked up to IV's, put into a warmer, and monitored for six hours before I got to hold her. Initiation of breastfeeding took too long and we ended up with jaundice and a longer stay than we really needed. I didn't sleep for five days, and at several junctures needed to send my baby to the nursery for "rest". Was told that I had to leave my baby under the bili lights instead of holding her, and I had no idea if I should let her cry or take her out.
2. Of course, we had our midwife loss at 27 weeks. At the hospital, we were left to our devices mostly with our doula, but I still think about why I wasn't given anything for nausea through my IV (I was begging for Zofran, or anything to help stop the vomiting), and the nurse didn't listen to my request not to have the IV in my hand and blew two attempts in my swollen and poor veins. We were in a semi-private room with a woman that had a lot of problems. One nurse came into my room at night to help my mucousy baby, held her upside down and "shook" her to get the mucous out. It was a horrific moment, to watch the nurse man-handle my new baby. It took longer than anticipated to get on the road home (only a few hours, so that is NOTHING worthy of complaining about... but it just seemed like it was only paperwork holding us back, why did we have to "wait"?)
3. Having to stand in emerg and "register" with a baby crowning. It was super dramatic. We had heard stories of the midwife having to stay with us through most of the active labor, and that didn't really happen (but looking back I'm kind of okay with that anyway). Having to transfer at that point in labor wasn't ideal, there was no parking "close" to the hospital doors. ER didn't have a proper wheel chair and there was probably no way to get upstairs without the one we used (but we made do).
In talking with other local mothers this year, the things that ring the loudest are that our midwives were tasked with too many clients, and not nearly enough funding for programs. There was no clear/defined pathway of care. Many women were placed on waiting lists to access services and some where completely unable to get midwifery care - and had very little communication of where it was at through their pregnancies. Some of us (like myself) were told YES home birth was possible, and then NO, and then YES, and then MAYBE... and even more disappointing were told that it wouldn't be possible on weekends, some evenings, and during regular midwifery days off.
None of us directly blame the midwives, per se. We wish there was more communication. It wasn't a sense of entitlement to have a midwife, wasn't to fulfill a trend or a need to brag-book about having a home birth. We all just wanted something under the midwifery model of care.
There was mother-speak about the confusion. Most of all. We talked about it being a new program, about us as pioneers of a new movement in health care. We talked about privately funded midwifery, and we talked about the political actions needed to advance our self worth to the health care system. This is, after all, a boom time in our province and it seemed like it wasn't a priority. None of our election desires were discussed or debated, and both parties had mediocre platforms in relation to midwifery.
We were all given the opportunity to give feedback to the health region via surveys, similar to "customer satisfaction surveys". Some of us sent in postcards from the post card project, some of us talked to the client rep at the hospitals.
Also discussed was the bed-sharing policy at the hospital being changed. We all felt very sad for the story of the mother and babe who were in the media this year, and we talked about possibilities and solutions. The word on my street was that women were feeling like their breastfeeding success would be less with the new policy, and that it seemed like a decision based on legal implications rather than family centered care, or something rooted in evidence.
In a few instances, women had a very difficult time getting appropriate care with their babies. Whether it be accessing consults, pediatric specialty care, and post partum appointments - and even involvement from public health - women had issues and a general lack of consistency.
This is the story of 2011. It's a new program, and birth - so to speak- of the program is labored and highly emotional. It's no different in ANY area of health care, in ANY place in Saskatchewan. Does it mean we will stop? Does it mean it's okay and we will weather the growing pains? Definitely not. It does mean that a rise is definitely needed in maternity services and in healing our community.
I think our ladies do need to come together to talk - but, on the larger scale - what next? We've already re-hashed our stories, but little else has been done. I think this is where health care wins - we move on with our day to day lives, our babies, our scars - and we figure it's really not our time to worry about what is next. It's pretty easy to get lots in the shuffle (don't I know it...where did half of my energy go?) of babies and families. Our husbands are tired of listening to us (at least mine is) complain about how horrible our experiences were - when, really - it's not all that bad.
Think about the REASONS we're sitting on our hands?
- fear of disclosure beyond our accepting circle
- the amount of work required
- re-visiting those moments
- calling to question the actions of others who aren't willing/able to change
- lack of time to put into a cause outside of our families and other places we expel ourselves
- our babies are healthy
- our babies are NOT healthy
- we seem like it's relatively okay
- we are not revisiting it right now
Think about the REASONS we need to rise?
- our sisters in birth are experiencing more instances of birth violence
- our mothers experienced birth - ask your mother how far it has come
- technology is coming
- we can have home birth BUT our c-section rate is still increasing
- midwifery is still only available to a select portion of the population who can beat a waiting list
- stories continue to emerge about how birth experiences are shaping life forward
- we are hopeful for something better
Think about what you can do. How you can help; what you want to contribute.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Lactivism de-constructed, 2011
This year, in retrospect, has been life altering and huge in terms of identifying and developing my practice in the world of birth, birth advocacy, and making good arguments for women having babies on their own terms.
A few years ago, when I decided that I wanted to work in birth but not pursue it through the route of the nurse, I had also decided to venture into lactation as a possible profession. It had very little to do with my own adventures in feeding my kids. To be honest, there never really was adventure. It was mundane, really typical and I would say normal and natural to me. Not to say that I didn't fill my cup with ways to handle things and the stories of others. I went to La Leche League meetings with my second child, about 8 months after she was born - mainly, to connect with other moms and to see if lactation was something I'd like to develop that passion in.
It almost was an uphill battle to even get off of the ground with lactivism. Not necessarily an old boys club or exclusive, but guarded in the community being that it is a precious commodity. That seems really odd, saying that lactivism and milky helpers should be guarding their world and protecting the practice. Exclusion reminds me of the sand box. It also felt as though the old guard was almost discouraging a freshie perspective? Or that it would take too much time to open the wing? I don't know, I spent a lot of time de-constructing what went wrong because I am a sensitive person, and I really thought I had found a good fit, and a place that needed more help. Maybe it was timing, my approach, or just the fact that I truly wasn't ready like I figured.
Off I went, back to my career and looking for another rainbow to chase. I really thought it was and is best practice to just lay back and support the mother who does either. Amongst my peers were many mothers who did not nurse their babies for various reasons. I even became turned off by lactivism for a short while. It seemed mean spirited, and I saw an upper crust and consumerist element to nursing babies. Snobbery? Perhaps, but a barrage of "breast is best" mixed with the angry hipster mom-blogger rants and I really felt like I wanted nothing to do with lactivism. I felt like I would fit into a moderate group of mothers better, all things considered. It's not like I lived my life with my breasts out and a perfect-mom badge anyway, right? (Lactivists are truly hairy-armpitted, broom skirt-wearing Ina May wannabes right? right?) I felt like my voice carried no weight, and that I should go back to my little house in north central Regina and my dented SUV and 9 to 5 job. To stop worrying about the outside world because mine was truly "fine".
(This is really quite interesting to blog, because in retrospect I was still nursing my toddler. With much less enthusiasm at that point)
So, then we enter into the midwifery activism and birth community rhetoric again. So - I wasn't necessarily lactating or living my suburban iPhone life anymore. I was a card carrying pregnant hipster now. I was being denied home birth (then awarded it and then denied again), and listening with intent to the stories and experiences of other mothers. I also started to delve into marketing practices and my tune was changing. I had received exactly two cans of free formula in my previous pregnancy, and it really bothered me to know that not only could that happen again to me, but that somewhere in my own neighborhood was a desperate mom, at 3 am, who cracked the can instead of looking to more support.
I really wanted to just "get mad", but it became so obvious that guilt was really interfering with the ability to fully rage. I didn't want to make my friends feel guilty or obligated. I didn't want my family to pay for their comments and looks and energy. Even though I have been vocal about how it hurts - in the end I have to respect those around me. Even though not only had I never really quit being a lactivist, but I continued to post links and pay for it with long, drawn out strings of comments. I had to be careful and be respectful of those around me, on my OWN social networking pages. You can avert your eyes from a nursing mother in a shopping mall, but I guess you can't look away from the nagging article popping up on your facebook feed. I'd pass up many opportunities to share stuff, but I never stopped clicking and reading beyond the rhetoric and drama. It's never about our own experiences, yet every single blog and news article about feeding babies turns into "this was my experience, so there". I don't want it to be about that, so respectfully slowed down and internalized more of my thoughts.
But I do NOT have to be a respectful consumer. It is within my right to demand quality products in my marketplace. It's within my right and I would think that on behalf of my fellow mothers who both nurse and use formula that it's a duty to expose awful marketing.
The other practice that is true to me is the practice of sustaining relationships with our babies. Our instincts to parent has already been handed to our health care professionals and dr. Google - so, how are we to know how to relate to our babies? Even our lactation instructions are muddled and confused. I love my midwife, but I was so flustered when she said I needed to pump engorged breasts that I totally ignored my own 3 year old who was really quite skilled at emptying her mother's breasts!
I hear many stories from mothers who don't know what to do. They are tired, frustrated, hurting... The answer is often complex or directed away from nursing. To one health professional their child is at risk of losing precious time and health without formula, to the next the answer is supplementing. But rarely is donor milk ever considered or suggested. This leads mothers to milk sharing networks and begging their lactating friends to don pumps and containers. And non stop doubt and guilt floats around her in the air!
Lactivism, to me, is about preserving a normal practice. Since when did the 24 hour drugstore or free backpack of coupons and powdered substance replace calling a lactation professional? There are card carrying women right down the block from most of us with breasts and some of them may be carrying a precious commodity. In a perfect world, we'd be more interested in milk donation and protection of the normal function and less concerned about bothering others for help.
I'm asking and begging of those who are reading to NOT comment on why they couldn't breast feed. Your story is important to mothering pedagogy, however this isn't about that. That's in the past, and it's done.
This is about moving forward from this day, this moment in 2011 and looking at what our new world citizens are being offered as nutrition when you consider what the alternative is. To one mother, it means asking her fellow women to spend 20 minutes to help her fold laundry so that she can sit down to feed her baby. To the next, it means dropping off a warm meal and a bottle of breast milk to her sick newborn. Maybe it just means leaving your phone turned on at night so that she isn't crying alone. Or, lending her $40 to hire someone to come and help.
In any case, 2012 is the year that you can lactivate. You don't need a drop of milk to ever have left your chest. You could be a husband or father, son, cousin, neighbor or stranger. It might make a difference to someone you love, today or 30 years from today.
That is what I do... It isn't making me millions, but I would say that every blog post, comment, and thought ripples and reverbs somewhere. It's not a simple solution, and there is no answer to formula that is easy. To say to someone that it's okay to have a choice... Well, choice isn't fair when you can't choose the safety in what you are putting into your child's mouth. It's not a supermarket of health out there in Similac land. Those milking cows aren't the same ones you see munching on grass behind a barb wire fence.
Yes, we have to do what we gotta do. But if you can do it with style? With grace? With afterthought? And most of all, without guilt. That is why I lactivate.
A few years ago, when I decided that I wanted to work in birth but not pursue it through the route of the nurse, I had also decided to venture into lactation as a possible profession. It had very little to do with my own adventures in feeding my kids. To be honest, there never really was adventure. It was mundane, really typical and I would say normal and natural to me. Not to say that I didn't fill my cup with ways to handle things and the stories of others. I went to La Leche League meetings with my second child, about 8 months after she was born - mainly, to connect with other moms and to see if lactation was something I'd like to develop that passion in.
It almost was an uphill battle to even get off of the ground with lactivism. Not necessarily an old boys club or exclusive, but guarded in the community being that it is a precious commodity. That seems really odd, saying that lactivism and milky helpers should be guarding their world and protecting the practice. Exclusion reminds me of the sand box. It also felt as though the old guard was almost discouraging a freshie perspective? Or that it would take too much time to open the wing? I don't know, I spent a lot of time de-constructing what went wrong because I am a sensitive person, and I really thought I had found a good fit, and a place that needed more help. Maybe it was timing, my approach, or just the fact that I truly wasn't ready like I figured.
Off I went, back to my career and looking for another rainbow to chase. I really thought it was and is best practice to just lay back and support the mother who does either. Amongst my peers were many mothers who did not nurse their babies for various reasons. I even became turned off by lactivism for a short while. It seemed mean spirited, and I saw an upper crust and consumerist element to nursing babies. Snobbery? Perhaps, but a barrage of "breast is best" mixed with the angry hipster mom-blogger rants and I really felt like I wanted nothing to do with lactivism. I felt like I would fit into a moderate group of mothers better, all things considered. It's not like I lived my life with my breasts out and a perfect-mom badge anyway, right? (Lactivists are truly hairy-armpitted, broom skirt-wearing Ina May wannabes right? right?) I felt like my voice carried no weight, and that I should go back to my little house in north central Regina and my dented SUV and 9 to 5 job. To stop worrying about the outside world because mine was truly "fine".
(This is really quite interesting to blog, because in retrospect I was still nursing my toddler. With much less enthusiasm at that point)
So, then we enter into the midwifery activism and birth community rhetoric again. So - I wasn't necessarily lactating or living my suburban iPhone life anymore. I was a card carrying pregnant hipster now. I was being denied home birth (then awarded it and then denied again), and listening with intent to the stories and experiences of other mothers. I also started to delve into marketing practices and my tune was changing. I had received exactly two cans of free formula in my previous pregnancy, and it really bothered me to know that not only could that happen again to me, but that somewhere in my own neighborhood was a desperate mom, at 3 am, who cracked the can instead of looking to more support.
I really wanted to just "get mad", but it became so obvious that guilt was really interfering with the ability to fully rage. I didn't want to make my friends feel guilty or obligated. I didn't want my family to pay for their comments and looks and energy. Even though I have been vocal about how it hurts - in the end I have to respect those around me. Even though not only had I never really quit being a lactivist, but I continued to post links and pay for it with long, drawn out strings of comments. I had to be careful and be respectful of those around me, on my OWN social networking pages. You can avert your eyes from a nursing mother in a shopping mall, but I guess you can't look away from the nagging article popping up on your facebook feed. I'd pass up many opportunities to share stuff, but I never stopped clicking and reading beyond the rhetoric and drama. It's never about our own experiences, yet every single blog and news article about feeding babies turns into "this was my experience, so there". I don't want it to be about that, so respectfully slowed down and internalized more of my thoughts.
But I do NOT have to be a respectful consumer. It is within my right to demand quality products in my marketplace. It's within my right and I would think that on behalf of my fellow mothers who both nurse and use formula that it's a duty to expose awful marketing.
The other practice that is true to me is the practice of sustaining relationships with our babies. Our instincts to parent has already been handed to our health care professionals and dr. Google - so, how are we to know how to relate to our babies? Even our lactation instructions are muddled and confused. I love my midwife, but I was so flustered when she said I needed to pump engorged breasts that I totally ignored my own 3 year old who was really quite skilled at emptying her mother's breasts!
I hear many stories from mothers who don't know what to do. They are tired, frustrated, hurting... The answer is often complex or directed away from nursing. To one health professional their child is at risk of losing precious time and health without formula, to the next the answer is supplementing. But rarely is donor milk ever considered or suggested. This leads mothers to milk sharing networks and begging their lactating friends to don pumps and containers. And non stop doubt and guilt floats around her in the air!
Lactivism, to me, is about preserving a normal practice. Since when did the 24 hour drugstore or free backpack of coupons and powdered substance replace calling a lactation professional? There are card carrying women right down the block from most of us with breasts and some of them may be carrying a precious commodity. In a perfect world, we'd be more interested in milk donation and protection of the normal function and less concerned about bothering others for help.
I'm asking and begging of those who are reading to NOT comment on why they couldn't breast feed. Your story is important to mothering pedagogy, however this isn't about that. That's in the past, and it's done.
This is about moving forward from this day, this moment in 2011 and looking at what our new world citizens are being offered as nutrition when you consider what the alternative is. To one mother, it means asking her fellow women to spend 20 minutes to help her fold laundry so that she can sit down to feed her baby. To the next, it means dropping off a warm meal and a bottle of breast milk to her sick newborn. Maybe it just means leaving your phone turned on at night so that she isn't crying alone. Or, lending her $40 to hire someone to come and help.
In any case, 2012 is the year that you can lactivate. You don't need a drop of milk to ever have left your chest. You could be a husband or father, son, cousin, neighbor or stranger. It might make a difference to someone you love, today or 30 years from today.
That is what I do... It isn't making me millions, but I would say that every blog post, comment, and thought ripples and reverbs somewhere. It's not a simple solution, and there is no answer to formula that is easy. To say to someone that it's okay to have a choice... Well, choice isn't fair when you can't choose the safety in what you are putting into your child's mouth. It's not a supermarket of health out there in Similac land. Those milking cows aren't the same ones you see munching on grass behind a barb wire fence.
Yes, we have to do what we gotta do. But if you can do it with style? With grace? With afterthought? And most of all, without guilt. That is why I lactivate.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
How to be a Birth Advocate
I get it. We're all busy with our own lives, our own struggles, and as a parent it can be really difficult to have additional time to get involved in anything in addition to our regular duties.
Where to start?
I will tell you my story. After having my second child and taking a doula course, I started to relate my experiences in health care from nursing in acute care to what was happening in the birth industry. More and more of my friends and circles became "birth buddies", or other parents of babies. We would share our stories and find interwoven links between them.
Being told, being responsible, and being accountable to our birth is common in my community. The circle of "natural is best" burdened our shoulders. My first ever experience as a doula was 36 hours of irreversible birth damage in my mind. The mother and babe all came through, but despite two doulas and a large circle of love things happened that had no explanation. Meconium really did change the day for that momma, but she didn't have to experience the constant monitoring, being thrown onto the bed by the nurse, or a birth team being ushered out for decisions. In fact, she really didn't need her physicians constant reminders of how her baby would never fit through her pelvis.
After hearing the story told in different ways by different mothers, it really did start to trigger curiosity in my mind. What was the secret to avoiding a c-section?
Getting involved after this seemed natural, but when the call came to look at starting an ICAN (www.ican-online.org) chapter in my city, I felt so compelled to get things moving.
First of all, I started moving my social networking towards birth. Pointing at blogs, authors, online forums and resources, and beyond was overwhelming at first - but soon the feed started picking up and the articles were flying. Every few hours there was something new to read, a new view point, an article to comment on, a conversation opening another light bulb.
Keep in mind - I was working full time and parenting two kids at this time. Being a habitual smart phone-addict has it's positives. I could read on coffee breaks, between car rides, on the bus on the way home from work/to work, before bed, after supper, you get it... instead of reading face-less statuses about what was for dinner and reviews on movies, I was reading about birth.
When the International Day of the Midwife rolled around, there was much to be worried about. My newly founded peers - pregnant, with babies, or lactating (and some just grandmothers, aunts, and other birth workers) were all jiving the same things. We NEED midwives. We have them, politics and legislation was clearly holding up the process. As was our own city - it seems like a huge task to start midwifery services in a city of this size with the needs growing by the moment.
The first picnic was a bit of a disaster to organize. It snowed, the first week in May, and we had no indoor option. Luckily, we were able to talk a politician into finding us a space to meet. We had a cake show up, a lot of kids, some midwives, and people got to talking about how and when and what we should be doing. It was really that simple.
I started a post card campaign shortly after the call from the community came to get funded midwifery up and running. The system is slow, irritating, and impossible to navigate. Midwifery was targeted at working with vulnerable populations as well as anyone who knew about it. The phones rang off of the hook - and our own midwife was caring for clients while fielding her own phone calls, doing her own paperwork, and designing the program for the subsequent midwives that were yet to be recruited.
Then came along the picnic time!
The second year, planning started much earlier. Using social media, we created the event. Press releases went out, as did a call to our MLA's and political friends. Here is a photo from our picnic.
We didn't count because we were so busy! But looking back, close to 36 families attended at many points in the day. It happened simultaneously as a ceremony at the hospital that the health region planned to honor our midwifery program. So it was great to see a lot of people that day (and, an exhausting day for all...I even attended my own appointment with the midwife that afternoon!).
Which brings along baby number 3 - born an activist, one week shy of a second midwife being certified. We were unlucky in our home birth plans twice.
What are you fighting for? Think about your own scenario. What wasn't appealing to you? With each of us it might be something different, from an experience with the system, difficulty with your physician - or, maybe it was someone else you know.
Being interconnected with the birth community is the ultimate reward for me. I thrive on it. But it is hard to find others with energy and passion. I get it, kids are busy, moms are busy, dads are busy (my husband can agree that activism is draining on him too). However finding a piece of the advocacy pie is really easy.
If you're in a situation where you can't commit a lot of time, you can start with reading. Connect with the local birth scene and other mothers. Write a letter to your local dignitaries asking for help.
Join www.mothersofchange.com - Mothers of Change is a bigger umbrella of birth issues. Birth violence is a huge initiative.
Share this blog post! Let the fire in your belly brew a plan to help further women in the health care system.
Elizabeth Webb, born into the hands of a midwife.
Resources:
http://www.mothersofchange.com
Where to start?
I will tell you my story. After having my second child and taking a doula course, I started to relate my experiences in health care from nursing in acute care to what was happening in the birth industry. More and more of my friends and circles became "birth buddies", or other parents of babies. We would share our stories and find interwoven links between them.
Being told, being responsible, and being accountable to our birth is common in my community. The circle of "natural is best" burdened our shoulders. My first ever experience as a doula was 36 hours of irreversible birth damage in my mind. The mother and babe all came through, but despite two doulas and a large circle of love things happened that had no explanation. Meconium really did change the day for that momma, but she didn't have to experience the constant monitoring, being thrown onto the bed by the nurse, or a birth team being ushered out for decisions. In fact, she really didn't need her physicians constant reminders of how her baby would never fit through her pelvis.
After hearing the story told in different ways by different mothers, it really did start to trigger curiosity in my mind. What was the secret to avoiding a c-section?
Getting involved after this seemed natural, but when the call came to look at starting an ICAN (www.ican-online.org) chapter in my city, I felt so compelled to get things moving.
First of all, I started moving my social networking towards birth. Pointing at blogs, authors, online forums and resources, and beyond was overwhelming at first - but soon the feed started picking up and the articles were flying. Every few hours there was something new to read, a new view point, an article to comment on, a conversation opening another light bulb.
Keep in mind - I was working full time and parenting two kids at this time. Being a habitual smart phone-addict has it's positives. I could read on coffee breaks, between car rides, on the bus on the way home from work/to work, before bed, after supper, you get it... instead of reading face-less statuses about what was for dinner and reviews on movies, I was reading about birth.
When the International Day of the Midwife rolled around, there was much to be worried about. My newly founded peers - pregnant, with babies, or lactating (and some just grandmothers, aunts, and other birth workers) were all jiving the same things. We NEED midwives. We have them, politics and legislation was clearly holding up the process. As was our own city - it seems like a huge task to start midwifery services in a city of this size with the needs growing by the moment.
The first picnic was a bit of a disaster to organize. It snowed, the first week in May, and we had no indoor option. Luckily, we were able to talk a politician into finding us a space to meet. We had a cake show up, a lot of kids, some midwives, and people got to talking about how and when and what we should be doing. It was really that simple.
I started a post card campaign shortly after the call from the community came to get funded midwifery up and running. The system is slow, irritating, and impossible to navigate. Midwifery was targeted at working with vulnerable populations as well as anyone who knew about it. The phones rang off of the hook - and our own midwife was caring for clients while fielding her own phone calls, doing her own paperwork, and designing the program for the subsequent midwives that were yet to be recruited.
Then came along the picnic time!
The second year, planning started much earlier. Using social media, we created the event. Press releases went out, as did a call to our MLA's and political friends. Here is a photo from our picnic.
We didn't count because we were so busy! But looking back, close to 36 families attended at many points in the day. It happened simultaneously as a ceremony at the hospital that the health region planned to honor our midwifery program. So it was great to see a lot of people that day (and, an exhausting day for all...I even attended my own appointment with the midwife that afternoon!).
Which brings along baby number 3 - born an activist, one week shy of a second midwife being certified. We were unlucky in our home birth plans twice.
What are you fighting for? Think about your own scenario. What wasn't appealing to you? With each of us it might be something different, from an experience with the system, difficulty with your physician - or, maybe it was someone else you know.
Being interconnected with the birth community is the ultimate reward for me. I thrive on it. But it is hard to find others with energy and passion. I get it, kids are busy, moms are busy, dads are busy (my husband can agree that activism is draining on him too). However finding a piece of the advocacy pie is really easy.
If you're in a situation where you can't commit a lot of time, you can start with reading. Connect with the local birth scene and other mothers. Write a letter to your local dignitaries asking for help.
Join www.mothersofchange.com - Mothers of Change is a bigger umbrella of birth issues. Birth violence is a huge initiative.
Share this blog post! Let the fire in your belly brew a plan to help further women in the health care system.
Elizabeth Webb, born into the hands of a midwife.
Resources:
http://www.mothersofchange.com
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Hyperemesis Cubed
Three times. A grand total of 123 weeks spent "in the grips" of what I would learn after my first pregnancy was called Hyperemesis Gravidarum.
The first time was horrific. I was only 19 years old, had an unexpected pregnancy, and was thrust into a world I would come to loathe. I was working at a drug store at the time, front of the store, working with people and money. Not only did I experience nausea, but I also experienced humiliation. It didn't matter what time of the day, where I was, what I had ate or how I slept. I was very sick and at the time I was trying to hide the obvious from a lot of people. When I eventually started prenatal care, I was given Diclectin (without really understanding how it worked or what it was made of). I had no clue why I was vomiting despite being on medication that was supposed to help - and it was far to expensive to continue filling. So, I took nothing.
The nausea was paralyzing. I went to the end of my 42nd week of the pregnancy before the nausea was gone. Many ultrasounds, many admissions, and even false labor at 27 weeks, weight loss instead of gain... and yet, no diagnosis was mentioned or offered. I spent most of the pregnancy taking antibiotics for constant UTI's and even had a kidney infection at one point from a week of straight vomiting. My doctor just wanted me to eat better and insisted I keep trying things like toast and (wait for it) crackers. (FYI, crackers is a swear word in my world) Tai came into the world, and when the nausea went away I began the busy life of single mother. I gained my weight back, eventually muscle tone and energy returned, and all seemed normal. Pregnancy amnesia set in, and I left that chapter of my life buried in a place I didn't ever want to visit again.
The second pregnancy I was vomiting before I had a positive test. I poked around after my first admission for fluids in the ER and started reading about Hyperemesis Gravidarum - hoping that I wouldn't have to be dealing with severe nausea the whole time. This time I had a nursing degree under my belt and clued in that this couldn't be normal. Other cues - birth control made me very sick between the babies, and the vomiting was constant.
By 18 weeks, I had several ER trips for intravenous medication for nausea, several prescriptions (filled this time), and a few different trials of medication. Some women I had met on my online forum were living on intraveous feeding (TPN), and essentially hospitalized with severe, severe malnutrition and other problems associated with being depleted of every essential building block of survival. I learned that women have died from HG - Charlotte Bronte was rumored to have HG. It is not common, but it has happened that a woman suffering from HG has chosen to end the pregnancy.
There was a point in all three of my HG pregnancies that things got desperate and either by way of severe depression, malnutrition, or both that I certainly contemplated not continuing the pregnancy. Looking back - I was lucky enough to have my husband with baby two and three to support me through the dark times. Although, it was extremely hard on our marriage to endure HG. We rallied many times both during the pregnancies and after.
The third time was the "charm". I knew I was capable of dealing with mild and moderate hyperemesis - which still meant constant vomiting, nausea, reflux, and any potential side effects from medication. The first ten weeks were pretty standard for me - an ER visit around week 7. I started my meds very early on in the game and increased my Diclectin to the maximum dose. After a dangerous reaction to Gravol in my second pregnancy I learned to be very attentive to how I reacted to medications. Unluckily for me, the one nausea medication that helped the longest instantly caused adverse reactions. But we dealt with it. I spent a majority of the pregnancy working a desk job where I was able to stay relatively still and handle the constant nausea.
Now, I provide support to other women, both as a doula and as a fellow sufferer. If you or someone you know is suffering with hyperemesis gravidarum there is much work that can be done to support her and her family. Helping with regular household duties (laundry, cleaning, and caring for other children) is vital. She will appreciate help with cooking, although anything kept frozen coming into the house will harbor the least amount of smells (pregnancy nose is amplified with hyperemesis). She may be frail and unable to be social, and most likely will require frequent medical care. Emotional and practical support is best. The best resource out there is at www.helpher.org. It is a comprehensive internet support with a built in forum and community of other women who welcome mothers with open arms and vital information to help battle hyperemesis. The cause has not been determined, however studies are being done and more is coming to light every day.
Hyperemesis doesn't end with the pregnancy, which is the hardest reality of this atrocity. Many women suffer life long PTSD, dental issues, esophageal and other gastrointestinal illness, cardiac symptoms, and more. Not to mention - our babies, who endure the medications, stress, and possibly emotional and behavioral disorders.
For more information, please visit www.helpher.org.
Jonas Zephyr
The birth of Jonas Zephyr...
Lets rewind the clock, to one year ago. The Pilon family had embarked on a mission to become a four-person, two dog, and handful of fish family. Four would fit comfortably into a four seater car. Four would fit nicely into a two bedroom house, with a brave basement renovation to take place. You get the picture - we were happy with four, and as a married couple we both felt fulfilled and happy and comfortable with our two girls.
So what you're thinking, is where did number 3 arrive? Well, shortly after the conversation commenced discussing how to complete a family logistically!
The nausea was settling in, as it would with most cycles but it appeared to have more waves of up than normal. I suspected pregnancy with most cycles, but with this one I was in pure denial. Which meant that I figured out I should test, what the heck, just to make sense of it all. It was positive. Oh my.
I kept the secret for all of six hours. It was a day off for me, hubby was at work doing overtime. I went and had my nails done and was literally bursting to tell my friend. I figured I should tell the one person who was going to explode first, just to make sure. As soon as the nails were done, I ran downtown to the office to tell daddy the news. We were shaking... the emotions kinda went up, then down, then up again... what about vehicles, money, being sick a third time with hyperemesis? Where were we going with this whole family-being-done thing?
Then it started. I was sick pretty much from the early test. We had our date, end of June, and just rolled with that. We worked together to slowly get our life into another gear. Very, very slowly. The first ER visit was a little scary, everything seemed to be normal blood work wise. I ran out with a prescription (no Zofran, only Diclectin) and made the right connections. Luckily, a package arrived in the mail with extra Diclectin to help me triple the dose and get it under control.
This time I had lots of help from a doctor of natural medicine. We did regular IV bags of fluids and vitamins. I weathered the kidney infections quite well this time. The only new territory was severe headaches and severe swelling from early second trimester.
We had a midwife this time as well. Bridget was excellent from day one. I felt in great hands. We were suspect to have a home birth - then not, then on, then off, then unsure, then definitely, and finally DENIED a few days before the birth.
Birth was... six weeks long. Prodromal labour, yet ANOTHER occipital presentation "stuck" in the canal. Stop/start of labor, every Sunday (not really sure why) and Saturday.
It was a Tuesday, I was cranky and took Kayah for a walk around the block. By the time I was home we had awoken the contractions. My plug had been gone for weeks, so I was expecting it to happen. I got into the house and knew it was time to make the calls. Went to our regularly scheduled appointment and met with the new midwife. T stripped my membranes, told us to call when the action started. We dropped off Kayah and went home to have a baby.
By six o'clock we were off. We called the midwife - still only 2-3 cm but contractions were quite hard and very regular. We were told to relax for a bit, eat and rest (yeah right) and bath regularly. I bet I ran the tub five times in the day already. By eight we were definitely too far gone and almost forgot to call. The midwife called us to remind us that she was waiting for our call. She popped by and yep - 5cm, we could start collecting ourselves and make our way to the hospital within the hour. At this point we had completely forgot to call our doula, I could not focus enough to call and my husband most likely felt in control. After a few more bathroom grunts, we got into the vehicle. Smooth jazz on the radio... and then GUSH went the bag about four blocks from home. It wasn't a relief, like some say. I was in full blown "I'm pushing" as we drove to the hospital. And of course, nowhere to park... other than a block from the ER doors.
I was probably waddling as fast as I could, there was a head between my legs. The line up to register was a little long. No wheel chairs and no friggin way was I walking. I was wailing, moaning, making amniotic puddles... and up comes a bariatric wheelchair that does not work well. The porter zooms us upstairs.
What I remember is being told to undress, climbing onto a bed, and pushing three times. There was the baby. And my midwife was kinda wandering the whole time we were driving there looking for the birth pool and expecting a few more hours of labor. She almost missed the birth! There he was, in all of his glory, a skinny little bean named Jonas. The midwife kept calling him a girl (we found out later she had been at a birth all night and was in a car accident in the morning! No wonder).
We didn't get our home birth. We didn't get our water birth... but I was settling at the time for what we got. We stayed the night, went home first thing in the morning (around 11 am). It was the hottest day of the year to that point, a very warm day indeed!
So far, four months in, it hasn't been so bad. Jonas likes to sleep and eat and fart like a trucker. We deal with puking, spitting up, and everything baby. He's almost four months and we are in love and adjusting to family life. Today we finally have a vehicle to fit us all.
I'm happy, and I think now we can say we're complete.
Lets rewind the clock, to one year ago. The Pilon family had embarked on a mission to become a four-person, two dog, and handful of fish family. Four would fit comfortably into a four seater car. Four would fit nicely into a two bedroom house, with a brave basement renovation to take place. You get the picture - we were happy with four, and as a married couple we both felt fulfilled and happy and comfortable with our two girls.
So what you're thinking, is where did number 3 arrive? Well, shortly after the conversation commenced discussing how to complete a family logistically!
The nausea was settling in, as it would with most cycles but it appeared to have more waves of up than normal. I suspected pregnancy with most cycles, but with this one I was in pure denial. Which meant that I figured out I should test, what the heck, just to make sense of it all. It was positive. Oh my.
I kept the secret for all of six hours. It was a day off for me, hubby was at work doing overtime. I went and had my nails done and was literally bursting to tell my friend. I figured I should tell the one person who was going to explode first, just to make sure. As soon as the nails were done, I ran downtown to the office to tell daddy the news. We were shaking... the emotions kinda went up, then down, then up again... what about vehicles, money, being sick a third time with hyperemesis? Where were we going with this whole family-being-done thing?
Then it started. I was sick pretty much from the early test. We had our date, end of June, and just rolled with that. We worked together to slowly get our life into another gear. Very, very slowly. The first ER visit was a little scary, everything seemed to be normal blood work wise. I ran out with a prescription (no Zofran, only Diclectin) and made the right connections. Luckily, a package arrived in the mail with extra Diclectin to help me triple the dose and get it under control.
This time I had lots of help from a doctor of natural medicine. We did regular IV bags of fluids and vitamins. I weathered the kidney infections quite well this time. The only new territory was severe headaches and severe swelling from early second trimester.
We had a midwife this time as well. Bridget was excellent from day one. I felt in great hands. We were suspect to have a home birth - then not, then on, then off, then unsure, then definitely, and finally DENIED a few days before the birth.
Birth was... six weeks long. Prodromal labour, yet ANOTHER occipital presentation "stuck" in the canal. Stop/start of labor, every Sunday (not really sure why) and Saturday.
It was a Tuesday, I was cranky and took Kayah for a walk around the block. By the time I was home we had awoken the contractions. My plug had been gone for weeks, so I was expecting it to happen. I got into the house and knew it was time to make the calls. Went to our regularly scheduled appointment and met with the new midwife. T stripped my membranes, told us to call when the action started. We dropped off Kayah and went home to have a baby.
By six o'clock we were off. We called the midwife - still only 2-3 cm but contractions were quite hard and very regular. We were told to relax for a bit, eat and rest (yeah right) and bath regularly. I bet I ran the tub five times in the day already. By eight we were definitely too far gone and almost forgot to call. The midwife called us to remind us that she was waiting for our call. She popped by and yep - 5cm, we could start collecting ourselves and make our way to the hospital within the hour. At this point we had completely forgot to call our doula, I could not focus enough to call and my husband most likely felt in control. After a few more bathroom grunts, we got into the vehicle. Smooth jazz on the radio... and then GUSH went the bag about four blocks from home. It wasn't a relief, like some say. I was in full blown "I'm pushing" as we drove to the hospital. And of course, nowhere to park... other than a block from the ER doors.
I was probably waddling as fast as I could, there was a head between my legs. The line up to register was a little long. No wheel chairs and no friggin way was I walking. I was wailing, moaning, making amniotic puddles... and up comes a bariatric wheelchair that does not work well. The porter zooms us upstairs.
What I remember is being told to undress, climbing onto a bed, and pushing three times. There was the baby. And my midwife was kinda wandering the whole time we were driving there looking for the birth pool and expecting a few more hours of labor. She almost missed the birth! There he was, in all of his glory, a skinny little bean named Jonas. The midwife kept calling him a girl (we found out later she had been at a birth all night and was in a car accident in the morning! No wonder).
We didn't get our home birth. We didn't get our water birth... but I was settling at the time for what we got. We stayed the night, went home first thing in the morning (around 11 am). It was the hottest day of the year to that point, a very warm day indeed!
So far, four months in, it hasn't been so bad. Jonas likes to sleep and eat and fart like a trucker. We deal with puking, spitting up, and everything baby. He's almost four months and we are in love and adjusting to family life. Today we finally have a vehicle to fit us all.
I'm happy, and I think now we can say we're complete.
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