Finding Zen

I'm No Superwoman - Part II

2009-12-13T06:48:07-08:00

The more I read about the process of childbirth, the more fascinated I became with it. I was totally in to it.

And let me quickly get to the point of all this - before this turns into a 6 part "Im No Superwoman" series.

Here is the deal. I never considered myself a good candidate for a no-med labor - and I'm writing about this, at all, because if I could inspire even just one person to rethink their own labor, that would be so cool.

I am the wuss of all wusses. Captain of the weak. I never enjoy the journey - I just want to get to the destination. And here I was facing the greatest physical feat of my life. I was scared shitless of how a person was going to come out of my body. Before I got pregnant I had a conversation with my then gynecologist that went something like this:

"I just want you to know, that I am really a wuss, and I am going to want pain relief as soon as I get to the hospital. OKAY?"

to which he replied

"No need to worry, we can arrange that."

Simple as that. But then I never got pregnant...he wanted to start Clomid and I went a whole other route. I started going to a Chinese Medicine practitioner - took gobs of herbs and had acupuncture weekly. I was already getting a little 'zen'. I read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and I was hooked. The second time - not the first. The first read was laughable. The second time around I started thinking maybe there is something to this.

I never thought I needed to be 'empowered'. That was not a very compelling argument for me. But HOLY SHIT PEOPLE listen to me when I tell you how fucking EMPOWERING it is to feel every bit of your labor and a child come out of your body. Let me tell you about THAT kind of ADRENALIN. Let me tell you that there is in fact no greater high in the world than the one I felt lying in that hospital bed with half my junk hanging out of my whoha gazing at the child that had just been separated from me.

Hoooooo-leeeeeeee - CRAP.

And I will tell you something. I was completely stunned. Those first 24hours. I was so overcome by emotion - and some of that was a sense of 'why the hell did i just do that?', 'that was for CRAZY PEOPLE!!!', 'who in their right mind...'. It was terrifying. It was, in that moment, the worst god awful pain of my life. It was horrific. And I was slightly pissed at myself for having chosen that path, because I wasn't left with this great pride and awesomeness that I thought I would have at the end of it. I mean the baby was great...but the going natural shit felt nutso. I didn't - immediately - get what all the hype was about. I felt cheated. I felt STUPID. I thought there was no way in hell I'd ever do that again. We would adopt next time around.

Until now. Having Oban that way - and reliving those 14hours - is the single most awesome'est accomplishment of my life. I survived. My body did it. I did it. I am so proud of myself and that new sense of ME - is priceless. I never had anything like that before. I never worked so hard for anything before. I never committed myself to anything the way I did to having a natural birth experience. I friggin rocked it. I was empowered - and when you emerge from something like that...you can't help but want to share that journey with the world.

So anyway, from one wuss to another - here is my advice to you:

READ! Read about what your body was CREATED to DO. Learn about how it works. Knowledge is power. The more you understand about the mechanics, you will begin to appreciate how FRIGGIN AWESOME and amazing it all is.

Align yourself with people who believe that your body can deliver your baby without help. This means finding a MIDWIFE. Someone who isn't paid to send you to the O.R.

Get a birthing coach - DOULA. They are worth their weight in gold.

And finally - the single most important thing I did to ensure that I would not be tempted to ask for drugs (and believe me I had no qualms with being 'open' to an epidural if I really really wanted one) - was to stay at home for as long as I could possibly stand it. Because you know what? YOU WILL WANT AN EPIDURAL. There is no maybe you will want pain relief. And I knew that before I ever felt my first labor contraction. So I stayed at home till I was puking and unable to talk - and arrived at the hospital at almost 8cm. I can't tell you how satisfying it was to hear the nurse say "wow, you are 7-8cm!". By the time you get to this stage of labor you are on another planet. And for me, I could not be bothered on that planet to even THINK about asking for an epidural. It was all I could do to BREATHE. I was along for the ride at that point. There was no turning back.

When I pushed him out - I have never felt so out of control in my life. I screamed like a rabid beast. I thought I would die before he would ever come out of me. And when he finally did, okay yes - I felt SUPER HUMAN. I felt indestructible. I thought there was no pain or struggle or conflict in life that could ever touch me after that. That feeling, combined with the amazing euphoria of seeing the life you have created emerge from your body - is something surreal.

Anyway. The bottom line?

I believe in me. I believe in my body. I believe I have the strength and courage of 10,000 Spartans. That is what Natural Birth gave to me. IT IS AMAZING. And just like the girl at the coffee shop who told me she didn't need to be a Superhero - I didn't think so either. But boy did I ever need that experience. It transformed me. THE PROCESS. All the preparation. The execution. The delivery.

ANYONE can do it. We are ALL very capable. Even the Captain of the Wusses.

I'm No Superwoman - Part I

2009-12-10T17:00:11-08:00

**Disclaimer: I had a relatively 'text book' labor and delivery. It was 14hrs roughly - and with no complications. I believe there are cases where medical intervention for mother and child is absolutely necessary. I am not here to tell you that every woman should be able to have a natural, un-medicated birth experience. But it is my belief that MOST are. Now, wanting that experience is an entirely different thing. And that is what I am going to talk about...

I think one of the greatest misconceptions people have about women who choose to have natural un-medicated births is this association with being some kind of narcissistic superhero. The other day I was getting coffee at a local shop where the barista is a sweet young girl who is expecting her first child and due any day now. I asked her if she had planned to do it drug-free - to which she laughed and replied "Oh no! I'm not trying to be some sort of super hero!".

A few days ago while watching TLC's A Baby Story (this has become my new daytime reality. sad. but true) - a woman who had intentions of going 'natural' decided at about 3cm when the pain was becoming too intense that she was no longer interested in her original plan. She asked her OB for the epidural and apologized to him (like he gave a shit). He patted her on the leg and said, "No one has to be a hero here today."

And I will admit, even I had shared this attitude before I became pregnant. I held the assumption that I would have an epidural because thats what people do. Why anyone would choose NOT to have pain relief for what is heralded as one of the most painful experiences in a woman's life - was absolutely asinine to me. You'd have to be a moron. A glutton for punishment. A narcissist. A freak. For the hippies! I'd say. Not me.

While I was taking all those chinese herbs and desperately trying to get pregnant that WHOLE YEAR (ack) - a co-worker of mine was studying to become a doula (my husband and I called these people 'doolers' - a spin off of the french word for PAIN) - if I didn't happen to really like this person, I'd have talked some shit behind her back about being a hippy. Oh wait. I talked shit to her face. Her cubicle shelves were full of books about natural childbirth and while I talked shit I was also incredibly curious. I'd thumb through the pages full of illustrations of YONI's and photographs of pelvic bones...and full on shots of crowning. They totally freaked me out. It was like all the missing manuals. The rated R stuff. The stuff left out of the What To Expect When You're Expecting! book.

Over the course of that year trying to get pregnant - I slowly read some of those books. At first thinking they were exactly what I expected them to be - for the hippies. The pioneers. The kinds of people who would squat a 10 pounder in the forrest. People who composte, and eat placenta. I had a hard time seeing myself in their stories - and thinking I could do that whole getting in tune with the power of my body thing. This coming from a person who struggles with even saying the word 'cervix', let alone getting acquainted with its characteristics.

It seemed like too great a stretch for me. The impossible. Like I would be a total poser even if I tried. Until something clicked in those pages...and it changed me.

I'm going to tell you about that. In part two. Later.

My 10wk Old Punkin Seed

2009-11-27T10:04:13-08:00

You will be 10wks old on Monday. We all have taken to calling you our "Little Punkin Seed"and none of us are quite sure why or how that came to be. I'm sure you think this is your name. Your social security card arrived in the mail the other day, and you will be relieved to know - it does NOT say Punkin Seed Pitts. You are Oban. Pronounced "oh-ben" - and for the record, I petitioned for the spelling OBEN - so every time you get "OHH-BAN" in your life, you can thank your dad for that. And your Uncle Tate.

Here is the back-story for your name. Oban is a cute little town in Scotland your dad and I spent some time in while we traveled the year after we got married. Okay so that's a lie. The truth is we never made it to Oban. We were staying at this fishery near a beautiful fjord on the west coast of Ireland called Lenaun. The morning we were leaving we ran into some Brits we chatted it up with. We told them we were heading to Scotland and the recommendation was to visit Oban. The postcards look really cool. I promise.

The honest to goodness truth? You will appreciate your names origination when you are in college - until then your friends parents will just think your dad and I are really pathetic and they'll feel sorry for you. Fast forward to a few months before you were conceived. We were having a beer at a local pub playing the name game (which your dad HATED - he totally wanted to name you SHONDOR. you can thank ME for that veto). We looked up on the large chalk board behind the bar with its list of fine whiskeys and saw the name Oban. We reminisced about our travels and how we never made it there - but my, what a cool name! We could name our boy Oban! Your dad was sold, and I never could convince him any other name would do. You would have been Max. Just like the other 20 kids in your class. So yeah, you are named after a whiskey - but a FINE WHISKEY - we would never have named you after a shitty whiskey.

So just do yourself and us a favor - and hold off on that explanation until your 21. (okay fine, 18 - we all know you will have one of those nasty malt beverages before then). Until then you can just say "It's a Scottish name, and my dad's side is from Scotland". Which is the truth. So there is your non-alcoholic version.

Moving right along. You are so awesome. I'm going to get really mushy here - you can deal with it. You are seriously the coolest little man - I feel so lucky every day I have to spend with you. You are so beautiful and so sweet, and your smiles just melt us all! You have doubled your birth weight and the doctor says you are doing push-ups like a 4month old so we have to start really watching to be sure you don't dismount your changing table while we dispose of your stinky butt diapers (which are cloth, thankyouverymuch to all the naysayers who were placing bets on how long it would take for me to give that up). Your dad would love to get you a kayak for xmas, but I'm thinking it may be a little too soon for eddys and back-deck rolls.

The first month or two was really TOUGH. Until you starting flashing us those smiles, I really struggled with feeling connected to you. Fortunately you are surrounded by so much love with our family and friends - you never made it out to the recycling bin where I thought about leaving you once or twice. Please forgive me. You will understand this one day when you have children of your own.

But we're past that now - and its allllll good! We made it through the gauntlet! And you still have all your toes. Amen. You are healthy, happy, growing like a weed, and the light of my life. You made this Thanksgiving the best ever. Maybe next year we'll let you suck on a turkey leg.

I love you the most.

Yo Mama.

8wks Post Partum

2009-11-13T07:13:11-08:00

Almost 8wks. Here we are.

Bonus shot - this kid is the bomb.

6 Week Update

2009-11-03T08:37:26-08:00

I just want to say how much I appreciate all your stories and kind words of encouragement these past few challenging weeks. Thank you. Since getting pregnant, and even more so since having Oban - I notice there are several new readers. And some of you who have been following for some time, but have only just recently commented. If you are a reader and have a blog - please email me at findingzen@rocketmail.com or leave a link in the comments, so I can add you to my list and swing by to say 'hi' when I have the time.

Oban is now 6wks old. Here we have the good, the bad, and the ugly:

The Good:

I am happy to report, there is GOOD - and figure I should tell you about it amidst all this talk of nipple carnage and flinging parasitic newborns. I don't want to get so engrossed in the daily challenges and general fatigue that I forget to appreciate the awesomeness that is watching this child grow and engage in his new world.

He is smiling now several times a day. They are sweet yummy little grins that make your heart melt. His head still smells better than a snickerdoodle. His armpits and the folds in his neck? Not so much. I give him massages daily and can't get enough of all the peach fuzz covering his little arms. He especially enjoys a good foot rub. He is starting to enjoy being in the water and I love to watch the comfort of the warmth sink in and settle his face. Night time is getting better - and most nights he goes down on his Boppy pillow in our bed - without much of a fight. He'll sleep one long stretch of maybe 4hrs and then in 2 and 3 hr increments. No more 2hr long scream fests. There is a God. During the day when he's not feeding or sleeping he is very content and engaging. I savor these moments - they are better than homemade banana pudding, and thats saying a lot.

The Bad:

He is very gassy and I hate it for him. It makes some of our feeding sessions extremely frustrating. He writhes and wiggles and attempts gator rolls on my lap all the while stretching my nipple into a spaghetti noodle. I have tried Mylicon and Gripe Water and they don't seem to help much. And no - I'm not cutting out dairy or caffeine...or onions, chocolate, wheat, nuts, etc etc. I see no correlation to anything in my diet and his gas pains and am of the opinion that his little digestive system just needs to mature. And it has gotten better with time. He no longer projectile vomits and doesn't spit up as often as he did in the first month.

The Ugly:

I am still struggling with the anger feelings. I have held and touched and had moments of trying to quiet him where the energy was BAD BAD BAD. And I hate it, and I know its wrong, and I feel immense guilt. It's always at night or in the early morning hours when he refuses to sleep and I am SO TIRED, and I just don't want to deal. Every day I work at this - coaching myself into a calmer state - turning him over to Zack when I feel I cannot manage to soothe him without anger. I have never hurt him nor do I worry that I might one day, but the bit of intensity that does come across to him when I get to end of my rope is completely unnecessary. I don't know how single mothers do it. I wonder if Ceasar Milan could help?

I am desparate for breastfeeding to get better. We are no longer having to use the bionic nipples, however - there is a gaping hole in my nipple that won't go away. In addition both nips are so tender and sore, and they burn/sting to have anything touch them (I suspect thrush...but we'll see - Oban has no signs of it. And yes - I've tried and am using the ever famous APNO! ;-). I want to cry when I have to pick him up and have him on my chest. There is milk EVERYWHERE in my attempt to expose them to air as much as possible. I leak constantly. There are milk droplets all over this house. I sleep in milk. I wake up in milk. There is no end to the amount of laundry this produces...but thats really beside the point.

I want to be able to look at my husband and not dread the thought of ever being intimate with him because OMFG(Becky) - my boobs have been hammered with the spiky end of a meat tenderizer, dowsed in alcohol, salted, and hung out to dry in the Arctic. I want to sleep on my side or stomach without pain, pick up and feed my son without pain, and hug my husband - without pain. I want to be able to workout without having to wear pads that make my boobs sweat, which makes my nips wet - which makes for a miserable stingy/painful workout. I see how people choose to bottle feed. It totally kicks your ass if it doesn't come easy.

So there you have it. I love this baby - he is so incredibly delicious I can't imagine anything more perfect. But it is hard, tiring, trying work. I can only hope to keep some perspective about this journey so that I don't miss anything I'll regret having not paid attention to in the future. Because each day is a blessing - and I am eternally grateful for his life, in ours.