That's little Marisol a few days after her diagnosis with CP (cerebral palsy). It was almost two years ago, and I am so happy to say that she is doing awesome. She can do things now that she couldn't do just weeks or months ago.  Over these two years, our feelings about her CP have evolved just as much as she has. I remember being so scared when we first heard our baby had cerebral palsy. But now, it's just another thing about her, NOT the most important thing about her.

That first day of the diagnosis though, we were unsure of what this would mean for her and for our family. We sent this message to our friends and family:

Dear Friends and Family:

I already talked to some of you on the phone, but I am a little tired of all the re-explaining, although eventually I plan to talk to all of you about this in person. So I thought I'd send this out as a sort of quick overview of what is happening with Mari and we can talk more of course!

So-Marisol was diagnosed yesterday with cerebral palsy. What does that mean for her? Not that much hopefully!

The things we know so far-- she has increased muscle tone on her left side, particularly her hand and lower leg and foot. So when she walks she way overpronates and flexes her little foot and when she isn't thinking about it, her left arm hangs like a bird's folded wing with a closed fist. She does use her left hand, but she has poor fine motor control, and when she does things like swing her arm as she walks, she only does it with the right one.

We only saw the pediatric orthopedist yesterday, so we still need to meet with the other medical professionals that will constitute her "team"--including a neurologist (he won't want to see her until the cast the ortho has her in is off in about a month), and physiatrist (basically a physicaltherapy/rehab doctor), and I imagine also physical/occupational therapists. She will probably also need a speech therapist, if not for the cerebral palsy, for the cleft palate. 

The ortho said she does not anticipate the neuro finding any additional problems, but obviously we need to get her a full neuro workup.

At this point, we don't think her CP is affecting her cognition at all--she seems to be super smart and speaking on time, but that, along with a lot ofother things, we won't know until she is older.

What's the treatment?

There is no cure. There is treatment to manage the CP: We don't know what all this will include, but it will include for sure--

A brace for her left leg for her lifetime, to keep her foot and leg muscles loose and flexible so she can walk and play sports and do whatever shewants. The brace will make this all possible.

Right now, a series of hard casts for the next month or so to stretch out her foot and achilles tendon. Basically it looks like she broke her leg, except that she can run with it!

Then, like I said, probably regular physical therapy to help her learn how to use her left hand and foot and keep them stretched out and loose.

It really shouldn't interfere with anything she wants to do. She can play sports, run, walk, anything. Sure she may not be the best typist and will have to work harder to play an instrument, but this little girl is one tough cookie and I know she will learn how to do everything, even if it's hardwork--which it will be.

This is a STATIC condition, meaning it won't get better, but it shouldn't get worse as long as we follow through on her treatment. It won't spread; whatever injury happened to her brain, it's done. We will now have to learn what is affected and teach her how to cope.

She has MILD Cerebral Palsy. She will not be in a wheelchair--she is the same girl you all know and love. We just learned a little more about her.She is as capable as any other kid, some things are just harder for her. But I like to think she is tougher than the average kid. I mean she's already been through surgery!

How is she?

She is FINE. We told her her cast was a special Abby Cadabby Cast and she thinks it is "nice." She started running on it right away, and while she has asked to take it off, we explained only the doctor can take it off and she was fine.

How are we?

Well, yesterday was rough. We had this whole picture in our minds of what her life would be like--the sports, instruments, trips, day to day little girl things we'd do with her, and when the doctor said cerebral palsy, it's like she pulled a great big lever that moved us off that track and put us ona another track. 

I think we'll end up in the same place, but the path will sure be different. We have to grieve that future we had in our minds for her and accept thenew one, which IS ALSO GREAT, but different than expected. 

So, now I am trying to get the picture of her in a brace to be the new normal in my mind. 

Today, looks much brighter. She's the same girl she was yesterday. She is still perfect, just as she is.

We will have to teach her how to deal with the inevitable teasing, how to navigate puberty and adolescence with a disability, and more, but I know we can do this for her and I know that she will teach us how to be the parents she needs--she already is.

So--that's what's up! Thanks for all the support and kind words you have always given us as friends and family. And if you wanna check out thesuper cool Abby Cadabby cast, it'll be on for the next month or so. Otherwise, you'll see the super awesome supergirl brace at her birthday party:)

Abrazos,
Elsie

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As you can see by my abuse of exclamation points, I was trying to stay positive! and put on a brave face! and look at the bright side! But, really, I was so so sad. As Gabe said to me on the drive home from the doctor's, "I just wish she could get a fucking break."

When she was born with a cleft palate we hoped that would be the only health problem she would face, but it's not. (It also didn't help that the first pediatric ortho we saw was terrible. She dropped the diagnosis very coldly and gave us an inappropriate treatment plan, which our now wonderful pediatric orthopedist changed at his first visit with Marisol just two weeks after the diagnosis.) As we educated ourselves about CP, we also had to grieve a bit before we could get to where we are now, which is so proud of how she is kicking CP's ass.

 

Two years after the diagnosis, I can say this: She is fierce and determined. She works HARD at physical and occupational therapy. Her therapists are always impressed by how game she is to try things.  Her little body is lean but lined with muscle from doing plank pose, pull ups, and rock wall climbing! She rides her bike with abandon and loves dancing.

I don't mean to downplay the seriousness of CP. She has very very mild CP and many kids with CP, regardless of how hard they try, can not function as well as she does. So we know that much of this is luck. She is lucky that her CP is so mild. But we are also lucky that she is a damned warrior of a girl.

For any parents out there who are struggling to accept a disability or difference in their child, I just wanted to share that no matter how scary it maybe at first to learn that your child has an unexpected disability, it gets better. Sometimes it gets better because they get better as they learn to deal with their disability, but it also gets better as you get used to it and it becomes just another characteristic that makes them so very special.

I remember telling my nephew that I just wanted to fast forward to the point where we had her therapies all set up, past all the diagnostic appointments with the different specialists, all the way to the point where her CP was just a part of our normal day-to-day life.

I am happy to say we are here. She goes twice weekly to an amazing pediatric PT/OT center run by women who love what they do and are incredibly talented. We are in regular contact with a top team of medical professionals at Children's Hospital. Mari likes them all, especially her nuerologist with pink hair! She goes to dance class weekly, swims in the summer, and will be starting preschool in a few months.  

I guess it's not "normal," after all-- it's wonderful.

It showcases hundreds of truly beautiful images of breastfeeding in ancient through modern times. As my nursling and I move through this second year of nursing, I have gotten a lot of inspiration and wisdom from other nursing moms. Seeing images of other nursing moms and babies is affirming and a real joy.

Here are a few of my favorites:

I have seen this little eye many a time over the nearly 16 months that I have nursed little Lulu.  It's a sweet little look no mama could ever forget.

This painting, by Kate Hansen, is part of entire series called the "Madonna and Child Project." This one is just gorgeous with soft light and the sweet little hand on mommy's heart. I also love that she's nursing her toddler. Because this is the stage of nursing that we are at, I found myself connecting to the images of nursing toddlers the most.

This is a recreation of what happens half a dozen times a day as big sister hangs out with us while little sister nurses. Except I don't usually look so fierce and graceful.

I'm not tandem nursing, but this made me think of my friends who tandem nurse. Mama's smile and the playful look on the older child's face are really engaging.

By far this mother's outfit is better looking than most "nursingwear." It just shows that you can nurse in just about anything.

They have a lovely animal gallery. We are all mammals, after all.

(Note: The image sources can be a little tricky to find, but if you download the image, the title and artist will come up in the "save as" box. On their FB page, the citations are easier to find.)

 Some of our current favorites right now are:

Marisol McDonald Doesn't Match, by Monica Brown (Ages 1-8*)

This bilingual book is aimed at kids 4-8, but even our one year old is engaged by the quirky and colorful illustrations. The text is presented twice, once in English and once in Spanish. My Marisol is 3 and this book is her favorite not only because it has her name in it (although that is so cool for a little kid), but because Marisol McDonald is a strong, independent, smart girl. 

The story begins by establishing that Marisol "doesn't match" because she has her Irish dad's red hair, and her Latina mom's brown skin.  She also likes to wear bright mismatched clothes in whatever combination pleases her. Even when she plays, she doesn't like to be limited to just playing one kind of game--she wants to play pirates and soccer. She tries to match one day and, thankfully, finds that matching is possible, but not that much fun. She decides, along with her teacher's support, to go back to being exactly who she is.

The story touches on issues of race and gender, but doesn't do it in an obvious way. The kids in the story are of different races, and it's never mentioned.  Most of all, Marisol McDonald's story shows that we don't need to conform in order to be loved. 

Chavela and the Magic Bubble, also by Monica Brown (Ages 1-8*)

We were just given this book for christmas in a board book edition--yay for board books!  It's not about girls or race or anything, except colors and the fun that can be had making new colors and painting. But I'm listing it here because unlike MOST books with animals, including most Golden Books, the kittens are gender-free. Woohoo! No, seriously, WOOHOO! The kittens are never referred to as male or female, so we can make them girls if we want or leave them genderless. It is so refreshing not to have another animal book that is by default all about male animals.  

Also, it's a very very cute little book with adorable illustrations. It's fun to read and our girls enjoy the whimsical drawings.

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I plan to keep posting media that is either girl-positive or just plain not sexist. I hope you enjoy this beginning and I'd love suggestions for future inclusion in the series. We are always looking for books that depict gender equality, diversity, and all other healthy things.

Happy Reading!

*Note: the age range is just my estimation of what age child would enjoy this story. The publisher's have their own reading level guide, but I'm assuming we are reading to our children, so my ranges start earlier.

 

Many moms, myself included, often shoulder more of the responsibility when it comes to caretaking, including caring for the children, the home, and our partners. We often sacrifice self-care to take care of everyone else. In the past, I thought this was just how it had to be, so I tried to be supermom, superwife, and superworker. But that left me superexhausted and superoverwhelmed!

Keep reading about my plans to give credit where its due this year at MomsLA, where I am a new contributor...

It would be so much easier to be satisfied with media that either segregates girls into pink ghettos or leaves them out completely, since that's what is currently available in mainstream culture. But I want so much better for my girls. I want them to see characters like them in awesome movies (cough, Pixar, cough). I don't need most things to be girl-centered, but would like most things not to erase girls by omitting them from the universe (see Reel Girl's post on Tin Tin), or representing them in ways that are patronizing.  

Women and girls are a part of this world and erasing them from popular narratives is a potent form of sexist erasure. 

This book looks totally cute, right? Well, it is, except that all the characters are either gender neutral or male.  Now, the characters are toddlers, so they mostly look gender neutral (as long as you are willing to believe that girls wear non-pink clothes, which we do), but whenever there is a gendered pronoun, it is male.  We have kept this book because it's easy to switch the genders when we read it, and in fact, with a magic marker, even the text only needs an "s" on a couple of pages to make the representation 50/50 male to female.  I just have to wonder though, why didn't it occur to the lovely Karen Katz that a girl might want to be a superhero too?

 Okay, so you're thinking I'm just too picky, right? Well, I would agree, except...

 I love Curious George! He's just so.... curious. He perfectly embodies the desire that all children have to explore and play. His stories are great fun. My issue is that in many of his stories there are exactly ZERO female characters. From his "friend with the yellow hat" to the bumbling officers, it's a land of men, not just species-wise.  I was thrilled recently to find one book with a female paleontologist! A woman and a scientist! We'll be adding that one to our collection for sure. It almost made me want to forgive H.A. Rey. Almost.

Then there's this:

I know, I KNOW. It's Sesame Street! We adore Sesame Street! We watch that Feist video a million times! But the Street has a problem and it's that there are almost no females there, and those that do occasionally hang out, like Betty Lou, or more recently, Abby Cadabby, tend to be on the boring side and very traditionally gendered.  Elmo and Grover and Cookie and Grouch are beloved not because they are male, but because they are cool and have great adventures and are hilarious.

Can't they just have whoever does those characters do female ones, the SAME way, but call them Greta and Ella? That would be so much better than this:

Although, for full disclosure, I do kind of love Rosita.  More like her, and less faeries/ballerinas please.

But for sure, no more: 

Poor Prairie Dawn always just made me sad. 

Okay, so that got a little silly. But do you see what I'm saying here?  Even in super cool books for kids, like this one:

 There is ONLY ONE main female character. She's the mouse with the big black eyes and poofy hair-do. While the other characters all get a neat little character description, such as "Ming...the one who made all the decisions," "Butterscotch," the female mouse, is described as "the girl in the group." Because being a female is her only quality? WTF!!?!?!?! This one really made me mad because the writer herself is female, and contemporary, and this is an otherwise pretty groovy comic storybook for kids.  As you can see, there are six main characters in the book. I don't even need the title character to be female, but why not the friendly bunny, or even just a couple more mice? We live in a world where half the population is female. I don't get it.  To be completely fair, there are some human characters at the end of the book, which play a small role in the story.  Including those, the population of the book is 21 characters: 12 male, 9 female. But most of those human characters appear only once, briefly, as in one of a group with no lines. By the end, there are 3 females total with a line, and 8 males total with one or more lines. Crappy.

I could go on. But I won't. Not today, at least. I just wanted to show that having a feminist lens is important even for parents of real young kids. I don't want my children growing up only hearing stories about boys, or just as bad, only hearing interesting stories about boys and thinking that girls can only be princesses and ballerinas. They can be that, and so so much more.  

We haven't gotten rid of the books listed here. They are still here, right over on the children's bookshelf.  We don't want our girls to miss out on these cool stories, but we make a great effort to add female counterparts to these narratives.

It shouldn't be this hard. It should be easy and it's not. I remember growing up learning that it was traditional to use the male pronoun as the default and thinking how antiquated that seemed. Sadly, that's still the norm in most children's books; stories which could be about either boys or girls, or about both, default to being stories just about boys, for no good reason. 

We have found some pretty awesome books that include girls in them, and I'll be sure to post those soon and to keep posting those to encourage other parents to share stories with their girls AND boys that represent the real world, the one with girls and women in them. It's a good world.

Exhibit A of a Great Toy for Girls (aka "children"): LEGO blocks

Some of the text is worth transcribing: "Have you ever seen anything like it? Not just what she's made, but how proud it's made her. It's a look you'll see whenever children build something all by themselves. No matter what they've created. Younger children build for fun . . . LEGO Universal Building Sets will help your children discover something very, very special: themselves."

Why is this a great toy?

1. The toy is versatile. There is no limit to what LEGOs can become. Our own modest set of LEGOs have been everything from a robot, to a mom, to a phone, to a car, to a monster, to a fire station, to a zoo, and much, much more. It just takes a little imagination, which is abundant when kids are allowed play freely.

2. The toy requires the child "do things;" the toy does not "do things." LEGOs can become a phone if the child makes them one. Then she can pick it up and "dial," and "call" anyone she wants. Heck, it can become a piano, with some of that good old imagination. It does not make sounds or  move--the child makes sounds and moves.

3. The toy encourages both interactive and solo-play. This toy can be used by a parent and child, or children together, but it can also be used by a single child. In all scenarios, it makes for lasting play. At 3 and 1 our girls easily play LEGOs for 20-45 minutes.

4. The toy is educational. LEGOs encourage the development of mathematical and spacial skills, fine motor skills, and basic skills such as color recognition.

5. The toy is beautiful. This goes a long way towards my enjoyment of a toy, but I think it's true for kids as well. LEGOs in their bright bold colors and geometric shapes are aesthetically pleasing.

6. The toy is durable. LEGOs will last many years not just because they are nearly indestructible, but also because it takes about a dozen years for kids to "outgrow" them. Then, they can be passed on.

Now, the advertisement is pretty rad too and an image I would be happy for my daughter to see, unlike so many media images and advertisements aimed at children.

What makes this a great ad?

Well, she is clearly happy, and as the ad says, PROUD. I would love to find out the behind-the-scenes and whether or not the girl actually built her awesome structure or if some advertising person did that. In any case, she looks like she just built it herself. She looks like a healthy, strong girl because she is standing up straight, facing the camera, and in a wide stance.  She looks not just like an advertisement for playing with this toy, but an advertisement for PLAY.  Her clothes look comfortable. There are no baby high heels here. She can run and jump in those clothes. She can do anything.

 Here's another good example from LEGO: 

This ad emphasizes pride again, and specifically, pride at having made something, not "having something." It's the difference between feeling a sense of worth because they received something or because they did something. One is a gift, another is an accomplishment.

She seems to have made a cool trolley or train, while he made an airplane. This ad illustrates that boys AND girls can build, can enjoy a full spectrum of colors, can play TOGETHER, and most of all, it celebrates imagination.

Now. These are the types of images and toys that get Mama Feminista's stamp of approval. 

Here's hoping that the new line of LEGOs, which fails to meet several of the expectations listed above, is a temporary foray in the wrong direction.

Want to have your say on LEGOs new line?: People are going to Lego’s Facebook page and posting the cool older ads to protest the new toy line. If you want to join in,  go to Lego’s FB page, click "like," and then post.

Our differences are something that I give thanks for, this year and every year.

Click here to read more of my reflections on Thanksgiving this year , over at Spanglishbaby.

To read about my second birth (the start of this story), visit Birth Stories, Part Two

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I said goodnight to Gabe as he headed to bed. It was 10pm, and I got settled on the couch, with some towels, just in case. I laid there and tried to sleep through the increasing contractions, but around midnight Gabe came down to find me on hands and knees doing "cat-cow" yoga stretches in an attempt to ease the contractions. He laughed and said, "this is happening tonight."

But I still wasn't sure. I was in some pain, but it didn't feel overwhelming, like my first labor. It just felt like really deep powerful cramps. I was scared that if we went to the hospital, they would tell me to go back home or that I would only be a a few centimeters dilated and they would want to induce. So we hung out for another twenty or thirty minutes, timing the contractions, which were probably coming every 5-6 minutes and lasting a minute.

Soon, we thought it was a good time for Gabe to call his sister to come spend the night with Marisol. I was sure that these contractions were not going away. I was excited, but still fearful that what I was experiencing wasn't the "real thing." I called the OB and he said that I was perfectly right to come on in and then I called our doula. We packed up the last few things for the hospital, and I had some fruit and water.

When Gabe went out to let his sister in the gate, our dog started barking, and I had to chase him around trying to quiet him down in the middle of a powerful contraction. When Gabe and his sister came in they found me yell-whisper-cursing at the dog! We gave Jessica some last minute instructions and I laughed at her look of worry when she saw me lean over the counter during a contraction. It was getting serious and we headed out the door, eager to meet our new girl.

The ride to the hospital was extremely vivid. My vision felt really sharp and the streetlights sparkled brightly as we drove towards the hospital downtown. For some reason, that ride stayed with me and to this day when I hear the song we listened to on the way there, I am taken right back to that ride, filled with anticipation and hopeful that the strong pains I was feeling would lead to a good birth and a healthy baby.

Arriving at the hospital, I felt briefly like the main character in a movie as I waddled down the hallways, pausing every few miutes to lean against the wall during contractions. When we checked in, the nurse asked Gabe if I was in active labor, then looked around the window to see me, hands pressed against the wall and breathing deeply. "Yup," she said and got us checked into a room. It was just past midnight.

I was expecting some resistance from the nurses because I was a VBAC and I did not want an IV and wanted only intermittent monitoring. The nurse did go over the risks with us and made some passing comment about VBACs being risky, but then she let it go. Our doctor is known for doing VBACs and the nurses respect him, so they knew that we were knowledgeable and not going to change our minds.

When the nurse checked my cervix, I was so scared that she was going to tell me I was at a three, still. But I wasn't. I was six centimeters dilated! I felt a rush of relief. I had only gotten to a six with Marisol, and that had felt like torture. I still felt good this time and was at a six. I was so so happy! I finally believed that this time could be different.

Right after that good news, our doula, Cat, came in. She too, was happy at the news. The next few hours were a blur of contractions and chatting. I stayed out of bed, except for when the nurse needed me to sit for the intermittent monitoring, which was only for ten minutes at a time. Those ten minutes were challenging because sitting was the most painful position to be in, and the least helpful for progressing. Mostly, it went like this: every few minutes I would get a contraction and I would stand in front of Gabe, who was seated on the bed. He would rub my neck and shoulders while Cat, who was seated on a chair behind me, would rub small circles on my lower back. That was all I needed to get thorugh the pains.

As soon as we got into the delivery room, I got into the shower with Gabe and let the hot water do the work. I leaned my head against Gabe and let the water flow over my big belly. The pain almost vanished. Cat and Gabe were amazing again: they kept me drinking fluids and going to the bathroom regularly, and kept me positive. At about 6am, I started asking about an epidural. I was still at a six and very very tired. I wanted to take a nap with the epidural and then turn it off to keep laboring. Looking back, I see that was a silly plan, because I was so close to the end, but I just wanted to sleep a bit.

Gabe and Cat were the perfect measure of support and understanding. They reminded me of why I wanted a natural birth, but said that I should do what I wanted to. I called the OB and asked him if he thought that getting an epidural would lessen my chances of a vaginal birth. He said it would be fine either way and that some rest might do me good. So, I kept stalling and waiting. I finally decided around 8am that we should ask the anesthesiologist to come in, but soon found out that I was at 7 cm and that the anesthesiologist was in surgery. At that point my OB  headed over.

I sat in the bed and refused to keep walking around, like I had been, because I knew that walking would make me complete, and I wanted to take a nap. So I sat there and waited. When the OB came in, I told him I didn't think he would let me get the epidural anymore, and he promised me that he would, even if I was complete. He leaned me back and checked me. Then he quickly said, "I'm going to pop your waters." He popped my bag of waters with his fingers and declared: "you're ready to push your baby out." I cried with relief, joy, and surprise.

Then he asked me, "do you still want that epidural?" "No!" I said. He would have given it to me then, I think , because he is that kind of guy. But I was ready to push her out. I was in pain, but glad that I was actually going to give birth! At this point, my OB said he had to step out, but left me with the nurse to get to work.

So I pushed. I spent the next hour pushing with the help of a nurse, Cat, Gabe, and then my OB when he returned.  To be honest, the pressure that my doc and the nurse applied hurt more than the baby and my main motivation became to get their hands out of me by getting the baby out.  In retrospect, I think I should have tried switching positions, but I was so focused on following my nurse and OB's guidance that I just stayed put and pushed when I got the urge--which was every few minutes.

I was so eager to have her out. Every time I pushed I felt like she should be coming out, but she wasn't. I kept asking "Where is she?" not quite sure what I was hoping to hear.   I focused on Cat and her encouraging quiet presence as she held my hand.  Gabe was also by my side, but he was too interested in seeing Lucia's head to hold my gaze like I needed. I felt the ring of fire, but took it as a good sign because it meant Lucia was really finally moving through me towards the world.

The feeling of pushing out a body from my body was strange. It felt slippery and hot and just all of a sudden after all that waiting. My OB told me they had to check her real quick because there had been a bit of meconium, but that was fast, and the OB stitched up a small tear while she got cleaned up.  I asked him if she had a cleft palate and the NICU team checked and reported that she had an intact palate.

I smiled and looked over at my doula (Gabe was with Lucia a few feet away) and said "I pushed a baby out my vagina!" That sounds silly, but for a mom who had her first baby cut out of her abdomen, that's a big deal.  I was so proud and so relieved!

Soon, Gabe handed me my second daughter and she was gorgeous! She was almost a pound and a half larger than Marisol, but otherwise seemed identical. My doula helped me latch her on to nurse and that's how we spent the next hour or so, nursing and dozing and smiling and laughing at this new life that had come so joyfully into our lives.

That day--except for the joy of getting to meet my amazing girls--was the exact opposite of my first birth. Where I felt physically and mentally exhausted and spent with the c-section, I felt physically and mentally exuberant. Yes, I was in some pain, but I also felt an incredible rush of endorphins that masked the pain incredibly well!  Where I felt incapable of caring for Marisol because I couldn't nurse her or change her or anything, I felt incredibly capable the second time. I was nursing, I was walking, I was moving around and lifting her and hugging my visitors! I know that some of the difficulty of my first experience was the long labor and birth, and some of it was also the shock of learning that my child had a cleft palate and that we wouldn't have the nursing relationship I had hoped.

I cannot explain how this birth changed me except to say that it many many ways it healed me. It's ironic because vaginal birth is not easy, and I certainly needed to heal from it as well, but the physical traumas of the birth not only healed over time, the birth itself healed many emotional wounds.

In the coming weeks, we would go on to have some nursing issues (oversupply!!!), but mostly, Lucia was an easy baby who now as a toddler still loves to cuddle and nurse with me. She and her sister have taught me how to be a mother and made me a stronger woman. I could not be more thankful to each of them. 

I was happy to share my experience and only wish that more moms would talk about their VBACs. It's not surprising that she had a hard time finding someone to share her VBAC experience. According to the March of Dimes, only between 6.8-8% of women with a previous cesearean will have a VBAC. This is unfortunate, because 74% of women who attempt VBACs will be able to deliver vaginally and avoid surgery. A mom who delivers surgically is often told that she has to have surgery again because, "Once a C, always a C;" her baby is breech; her pelvis is too small (extremely rare in developed coountries), she went postdate, or she is having twins, etc. The reality is that most of the time, if the pregnancy is otherwise healthy, a mom can  deliver vaginally after a cesarean--safely.

Anyhow, I apologize for the technical birthspeak, but I know that when I was researching my options for Lucia's birth, I wanted tech speak; I also wanted inspiring stories, but I'm not a fool. Even if something sounds lovely and amazing, if it has been proven to be dangerous, then I wouldn't consider it. Luckily, when it comes to Vaginal Birth After Cesearean (VBAC), the National Institutes of Health, The American Council of Obsteticians and Gynecologisits, and the World Health Organization all agree that it is a safe option in most cases. That's what I found and that's what I wish all healthcare providers would share with their patients.If you'd like more information, just google them or go straight to the International Cesarean Awareness Network.

Here's my personal story:

Because my first birth experience was so traumatic for me, one of the first things I did once I found out I was pregnant was try to process that experience. After Marisol's birth, I thought about it a lot for a few months, replaying the events in my head, trying to see what could have gone differently.  But then, with time, I stopped thinking about it.

The knowledge of my pregnancy brought back a lot of feelings from the postpartum period: fear, sadness, regret, guilt, anger. I sat down and told myself the story of that first birth. I was surprised to remember things I hadn't even been conscious of before. For example, I hadn't really realized that relatives other than Gabe had gotten to hold Marisol before I did. But that was one of many things that was overwhelmingly painful for me.

Basically, I cried like a baby as I relived it. I needed to do that though--to go through it and figure out what I was so afraid of. Once I had done that, I was able to talk with Gabe coherently about my fears, my hopes, and try to figure out how we could make sure the second time around was a better experience. At the top of our minds was our concern that Marisol's cerebral palsy had been caused by the trauma of the induction during the decelerations that had so alarmed the medical team and us. We wanted to avoid that, yet we knew that only so much was within our power.

I had switched providers soon after my first birth and was working with an OB well-known and loved by LA moms for doing VBACs. This was probably the most important choice I made in preparation for a second birth: my OB was smart, kind, caring, and communicative. He let me know from the get-go that he would support my wish for a VBAC, as long as it was safe to do so. Almost every time we met, he told me he wished, I "would go into labor a bit ahead of schedule and have a wonderful birth." It became a refrain in my mind, almost a mantra.

I tried to get myself into a strong frame of mind. I told myself that it would be okay to go to 42 weeks and beyond, so long as the baby looked good. I didn't let myself linger on the due date, to avoid feeling like it was some kind of deadline. I scheduled myself to work until three days before my due date, figuring that would give me at least five days or a week to relax before the birth. I played out different scenarios in my mind: if I go post-date, how supportive would my OB be? If I have to have a cesearean how could I make the experience a better one? If I go into labor naturally, how will I labor at home?

I envisioned the birth I wanted, but also tried to plan for a range of possibilities. To that end, I stopped carrying Marisol around, taught her to get into and out of her carseat and other chairs, got her used to climbing up into my lap to snuggle, and other little things that I figured would make recovery from surgery easier on the both of us. I also tried to stack the deck in favor of a natural, vaginal birth: I went for prenatal acupuncture, prenatal chiropracty, did prenatal yoga, ate a healthy and rich diet, walked and tried to rest as much as I could.

I felt vibrant and strong during the pregnancy, and felt positive about the labor. I made it all the way to that last day of work, feeling good. I was lucky; even though it was late September, it had been a mercifully mild summer. That morning of my first day of maternity leave, labor started.

We thought it would be the day because the contractions were pretty strong. We spent extra time in bed cuddling with Marisol, aware that it could have been our last morning as a family of three, that soon there would be another baby in bed with us. After breakfast, we took Marisol over to my friend's house and headed into the doctor's for my scheduled appointment. We took our time as things didn't seem to be moving fast. And they weren't. The contractions were strong but they were not getting closer together. I was 3 cm. dilated and 50% effaced, but not in active labor.

My OB told us it could be a week or a day. We would just have to wait and see. I appreciated that he did not say, "Okay, time to induce and get this puppy going." I love that he was willing to let my body do its thing. So we went to lunch and then we went home and took a nap, knowing the nights would be wakeful from there on out, and picked up Marisol.

That night, Friday night, the contractions got stronger. I stayed downstairs on the couch, occassionally timing them, but mostly, falling in and out of sleep. Come Saturday morning, I was tired. I considered going for a long walk, or maybe climbing some stairs to get things going, but I decided to call my OB and see what he thought. I also called our doula. Both of them agreed that it would be best for me to just relax as much as I could because this prodomal labor could last for days, and when it was time, my body would go into active labor on its own. I just needed to eat and rest and get ready.

I was so thankful for that advice and gladly took it. The contractions came all day, waning only sporadically so I could take a nap in the afternoon. But it wasn't active labor. Yet. We spent that day getting the house super-clean and hanging out with Marisol, cuddling, and reading, knowing her time as our only baby was coming to a quick close.

That night, I laid in bed, early, after taking a hot shower, and had a little chat with Lucia: I told her, "Lucia, listen. If you are ready to come out, then let's go. Let's really kick this thing into gear and progress. If not, then please just relax. I need a little rest in order to be strong. So decide what you want you want to do, and let's commit." Right on cue, the contractions stalled and I took a glorious three hour nap. Then, the contractions came back.

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To read about my first labor, visit Birth Stories: Part One.

To find out what happens next, stay tuned:)

Querido Disneyland: Where are the Latinos?

On Names

A couple poems:

In Honor of Hermanas: A Poem

Mothering: A Draft in Progress

Enjoy! I promise to post something new soon...