Gentle Birth

For nine months, I did the pregnancy in my own way. I took a very “this is mine, everyone else can eff off” approach to it. It sounds very selfish, but *I* wanted to get pregnant, carried her in my own natural way, went to the midwife that I was most comfortable with, and even selected the type of birth I wanted and paid quite a bit of money for the chance. (What I wouldn’t give for a birthing center in our area! Why are our options so horribly limited?)

What is crazy is all I want is everyone to go away and leave me alone to have a sacred, quiet space. That doesn’t sound like a lot to me…but as I found out, it seems damn near impossible to have happen. It’s a different story, but I will say, I was nearing the end of the time, walking laps outside, crying the ugly tears in the rain, cursing everything that exists that I was three days overdue, tired, hurting, upset, and just.plain.done. and add to that the need to still protect my space…It was one of those nights that epitomizes “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

The waiting, the uncertainty, being on a timeline, spending second after second for two weeks wondering “is this it?” It was enough to shake my sanity and my dear husband had to sit up with me in the middle of the night, watching “Extreme Couponing”, to keep depression at bay. And then, Sunday, the cloud lifted. No one was coming to town, it was sun-shiny and gorgeous and I sat outside for hours, just basking. I came to peace with still being pregnant and remembered that my body will do things at the right time for the best outcome. And if it didn’t, we have the technology and all will be fine. I was glowing, basking, still completely effing done, but I learned to surrender and trust.

Around 10 pm Sunday night, I was unable to sleep and decided that if I was going to be uncomfortable anyway, I might as well walk. I did laps in my backyard, enjoying the privacy fence, just walking clockwise, then counter-clockwise, back to clockwise…for about an hour. I think the pressure helped jump start things and if nothing else, helped me burn off some steam and get good and relaxed and even sleepy. About an hour later, I decide to get in bed, just to get right back out and by 12, I start having actual contractions. Because SM missed early labor with both the other kids, I woke him up right from the start to get to experience the uncertainty of “is this it?”

By 1am, I was sure it was. By 1:40, we told the midwife to make her way here. By 2am, I needed help with the contractions and SM was pressing on my back and things were picking up. People started arriving and I was still having strong/weak/weak contractions with breaks in between. Within an hour (3am) the pattern changed and I was needing help with every contraction and starting to fight my way through them. I was breathing heavy, moaning, etc. Although it worked, and I was *making* it through, it was awful and painful and, well, everything they say “labor” is supposed to be. It was hell.

Everyone was here, everything was set up, things were quiet and settling down, except for during the contractions. My dear friend, Anna, was pressing her fully-certified massage therapist hands on my back during contractions and it was becoming unbearable anyway. I asked the midwife to check me and I was at about 5 cm. I was glad things were happening, but *hating* how much longer I knew I was going to have to do this. The midwife said the tub was ready and that I could give that a try. Once it was decided SM was going to join me, to press on my back, we climbed in.

The difference was immediate. I relaxed in the warmth, rested my head, and started to feel slightly positive about it all again. We fought through a few more contractions, but they were slower in between. I remember asking the midwife about it and she said to enjoy the break while I can and that they’ll pick back up soon. So I had some water and a snack, cheered the break, and breathed for a few minutes. I felt *good* again, if only until the next contraction…a little while later...maybe 10 contractions, I had a thought that would change everything.

                What if I don’t fight it? What if I go against everything I’ve ever known and just LET IT HURT?

So I decided to try an experiment. On the next contraction, instead of moaning and moving and getting through, I was just going to *try* to relax and let it hurt and see what would happen. The experiment was amazing. I felt the contraction coming on, felt the hurt and what I would usually call “pain” and just LET it hurt. I quit calling it “pain” and instead encouraged it to be strong and do what it needed to do.

In that moment, the whole experience changed. I was able to breathe through it, feel it, acknowledge it’s hurt, and just Let it.  I had a contraction, without making a sound. I went from fighting to allowing, and when it was over, I was in awe. I told my best friend, Alice, that I had just had a contraction and I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m going to try to do it again. Sure enough, I made it through another four or five that way, and although it was hard concentrating, hurt like hell, and was physically intense, I learned to surrender and came through each one relaxed and calm.

For the next 2-3 hours, I rode the contractions, letting them hurt. How odd to not let someone know when they’re coming. How odd to simply breathe and be without making a production of it, sometimes without even making a sound. Yet the contractions were more productive and still at about 4 min. apart.

It was completely quiet. I could hear the crickets in the back yard. Even through the contractions. Quiet. Calm. Peace.

SM was gently rubbing my back, pouring water on my shoulders, helping me stay relaxed. Alice was sitting near my head, keeping me grounded, calm, focused, energetically present, validating my experience. Anna was putting hot towels on my back, keeping me physically relaxed, the assistant was occasionally checking the heartbeat, and the midwife was asleep on the couch.

Yep, you read that right. It was so quiet that she fell asleep. Now, don’t go getting upset at her or thinking she was not doing her job. I was quite happy to have her stay out of the way and let me do my thing…plus, she had just gotten done with a 2.5 DAY marathon birth and was only home for a few hours before getting my call. All was well.

Except that my feet kept falling asleep. So I had to move, and then get back relaxed before the next contraction, then move my feet, etc. Plus, things were really picking up and I was beginning to moan and sway *while* letting it hurt. As I changed positions again (damn feet) SM accidentally moved down while I moved up and “OW! DON’T PUSH! DON’T PUSH! OW!” I was slammed out of relaxation mode and jolted and fought the contraction through. The midwife heard one word: “push”. And bounded faster than lightning to my side only to have SM explain what was going on. The damage was done, my body was jolted into action. Within 3 contractions, I was in transition and shit got real.

I had to bite into the towel to relax below. Stretch the towel with all my might to relax below. Trying not to get loud, trying to breathe, starting to bear down a little. Asked the midwife to check me, 8 cm, fully effaced, head ready. Soon, very soon. I’m not quite sure how many more contractions I went through, but each one was a struggle for release, for surrender. A new headspace, a huge intensity rise, and something doesn’t feel right. I needed to get out of the tub. I don’t know why. Primal urge took over. Get out of the tub. As they got me out of my wet clothes, I looked at the window and saw that the sun was just coming up. Wow. Morning already?

I got on hands and knees in the living room but couldn’t support my weight with my arms. I leaned against Alice’s arms and as she snuggled me, I felt comforted. SM became my table and I reached my arms around his sides and leaned against him, bearing down. I did this about 5 times, these mostly-pushes-but not fully committed. The midwife said I could push, but it didn’t feel right, yet, so I would bear down a little and let up, still in not-knowing-how-to-deal-with-this-pain feeling. I panted through the next contraction and the midwife told me to use that energy to push with instead. My body said it wasn’t time to push, so I didn’t, but instead reached down to feel what was going on. Yep. I touched my vag (what? It’s not like it’s the first time) and there was swollen tissue from where I was overdue with a baby in my pelvis. I pushed the swollen bit out of the way and felt her head slip past and then *boom*, yep, I’m gonna push.

Next contraction, I dug into SM as hard as I could, pushed until it hurt and then more and collapsed when the contraction was over. Then again and the baby came down. Once more and out she came out. The midwife told me to “get your baby” because that’s what women like to do. Not me, I was still in pain, still pushing, leaning in a way that meant there was no way to reach down. So she caught her head and SM caught the baby.

To be honest, I was completely disinterested in the baby. I kept saying “but it still hurts! I’m not done!” and then *whoosh* and fluid came out and then _______________________ . Nothing. Pain over. I reached down and pulled up my baby and held her so close. It was done. It was over. I was holding my baby and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

She’s calm and gorgeous. I had all the time in the world to nurse her, to hold her, to gently stroke her face. The candles lit, the prayers said, the blessings and poetry. I’m totally in love and not rushing this time at all.

No rips or tears, no pain or complications. Just learning to surrender, learning the amazingness of how birth can be quiet and gentle, even if everything I ever heard or seen says it is impossible. It was beautiful and primal, hard and intense, hurting yet allowing it to hurt. A child born quiet and relaxed, peacefully learning the loving world around her.  Quiet, calm, crickets chirping.

Welcome to this world, Kaeli Alys Wood. I cherish the bond we forged together  through this pregnancy, birth, and babymoon. You are perfect and wonderful, just as you are, I honor you.

8 lb 6 oz, 21 in. long

Born at 7:01 at sunrise. Love.

My final "Lesson" from this whole experience

Wed- full moon, 39 weeks, sunny and cool

Short update: My post yesterday ended up being like a bucket to-do list... totally unexpected. I spent the day tearing up at singing "The Little Drummer Boy" with my son. Giggling wildly over my daughter's antics. Seeing the divine child, the light of the world, the hope and love and spark that resides in every child, and feeling overwhelmingly blessed at being able to take part and nurture that spark. Physically, I feel good. Huge, crampy, but rested and content.

__________________________________

This is not the blog I intended for today. Brigid blessed me with insight this morning and by the time I reached the end of my writing, it was not at all what I had sat down to write. Sometimes the best things go kinda like that.


Three words of the wise:

• What will be will be
• Gratitude
• Feel, experience, let go

These are hard for me, as they all tend to work in the Water area, of which I have...difficulty.

Knowledge (Air), leads to physical doing (Earth), leads to letting go (Water), leads to passion (Fire), leads to Transformation (Spirit). This works in transcendent drumming, spiritual ecstasy, trance, orgasm, and as I was led this morning: in childbirth. They don't always happen in the same order, but to "achieve" (not the right word, but it's what we say...) that place of being, of transcendence, of what the Pentacostals would call "slain in the Spirit" and Witches would call "Ridden by the God/dess", at some point you have to go through all four elements and reach Spirit.

I've taken care of my body and baby (Air), I've conceived and carried and given of my body (Earth), now I'm sitting in the Water, learning the three words above. Fire will come during childbirth, as will Transformation, Transcendence, and Spirit. If you end up with a C-Section or a miserable birth experience, fear not: Spirit can always be found in the baby's first cry and the light in their eyes.

One day, I hope to even find Transformation and Transcendence to help people who have the worst of experiences, like a friend of mine who had a baby born Still at 42 weeks. I can't dwell on that now, as it would not be beneficial to my own birth experience, but one day I will. It's there...I can feel it...but not. right. now.

Where does that movement through the elements and Transformation through Spirit lead us?

If it all starts with the act of lovemaking and the carrying of a baby (with all of the giving-stuff-up including one's body) is surely an act of love, as well as the gift of Mother Nature to empower women to step into the unknown, to surrender to the birth process, then it's all about Love.

Then to care for that helpless, crying, drooling, screaming little one in the middle of the night=Love. To see the light and spark within them=Love. To accept them as they are, to love them because of who they are, rather than in spite of it=Love.

It all leads to Love. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit. Love. Divine Spark. God. Goddess. Deity. Connection. Love. We are the Weavers and the Web. Be fierce. Stand up for what's right. Surrender. Feel Love and give Love.

I hope women, their partners, and/or their lovers can make informed choices, move through the elements, reach Spirit/God/Divine through their birth experiences, and become the parents that find the peace and joy the spark of a child can bring. To show honor to our children, to treat them gently and with respect, guide them-firmly at times, but fair, True, and with Love. These children will go on to (hopefully) do the same for others. Then we will have Peace on Earth, Goodwill for all, and Love will be in our hearts and lives.

Therein lies the meaning of having a baby at Yule.

Always look on the bright side of life *whistle*

Tuesday-cloudy, cold, hot chocolate kind of morning

The kids' bags are packed, everything is ready, I can't think of anything left that I said I'd do later. I'm at 39 weeks tomorrow, which doesn't mean anything at all, really. For the last two days I've been feeling like it's time, my head full of labor-land, cramps at night which could go either way, with essentially 8 to 14 days of just. waiting. for. it. It can be maddening and I'm kinda getting into "eff it...whatever..." mode. Next up will be "crying...can't be pregnant another day...I AM SO DONE!" mode, probably about a day or two after my due date ;)

Last night, I stared into the fire as it was Brigid's night to tend, which usually brings a message or thought of some sort. I wasn't disappointed. I could see in the embers, clear as a painting, a woman nursing a small baby (with facial features, even!) as a boy looked on. The way the small logs were stacked even created an ambient feeling of a manger or cave or temple space. It was a good reminder of *why* I need to wait until the baby and my body are ready. It felt...nice. Like a warm hug.

Useless Anecdote: Anyone that knows me knows I am not patient. When I decide "hey, let's go on a vacation..." or whateverthehell, it's going to be this weekend or next week. Same with starting a project or a craft or updating the kids' school records.

I'm gazing into the embers and trying my damndest to listen and be still, but all I can think in my mind, my brain, my being is PLEASE HURRY UP AND LET IT BE TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!! No, really, I know that I can't hurry it and I should just find peace and wait. TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then the unthinkable happened. The log crashed down and decimated the entire scene. Make of that what you will, but I'm going to say that it was a pretty clear indicator that my impatience is ruining the last bit of pregnancy. There's so much to enjoy and feel warmth over still and I'm trampling the flowers to get to the river. I really have no reason to not enjoy this last week...I'm mostly comfortable; I have a decent back-up sleep plan for when I'm crampy and unable to sleep. I'm just...well...not good at waiting.

So here's a short list of things I'm going to try to think about when I get completely batshit crazy impatient:

• It's the last bit of time I'm going to get to be just me and youngen 1 and 2 during the day. We should paint or color or stitch or something.
• I get weepy every time I hear a song about child being born. Um...given that I *lurveeeee* Christmas/Yule/holiday music, it's just about every 3 minutes. This is a fantastic time of year to give birth and I haven't explored the 10th of what it all means. I'll probably blog about this later, when I've had more time to consider it...
• Giving birth by the tree-light is going to be awesome.  (Not that thinking about it helps my patience at all.) Decorating is a good distraction.
• The only expectations of me are those I place on myself. The house stays mostly clean, we homeschool for pete's sake! so the requirements are as low as I choose to let them be. Quite literally, I could lay around, watch TV and eat bon bons all day and everyone would say "well done! You stayed off your feet!" *eyeroll* 
• My wonderful husband has stepped up his game in the cooking/cleaning/helping/etc department. I think he's about as ready as I am and even less good at being patient, which is comforting in its own way. What woman would turn down an involved, caring, sympathetic husband?

and my favorite:

• When the baby's moving all around, I can just ignore it, roll over, and go back to sleep. Won't be able to do that in a very short time.

How did I miss this?

Sunday-quiet, chilly, calm. Grey, overcast, breathe.

First, an update: Those wonderful hormones, Relaxin, that make your muscles and joints turn to jelly so delivery goes easier backfired on me this week. I pushed the dutch oven with my instep and as Newtonian Physics would assert, my hip went in equal proportion backward, and with those lovely jelly joints, I separated my pelvis and popped the cartilage.  The good news is: it went back together. The bad news: it's sore. Walking sucks. It's been nearly a week and I can only get around for about 15 min. before I need to sit and get the 6-7 lb baby off of those muscles.

I hate to sound like a whiner, but it certainly sped up the "I am so done with this" sentiment. BTW, I totally hate that I can't be honest about how I'm feeling without people shutting down as soon as I mention I'm in pain. I won't go on a rant, but our society has little patience for weakness, pain, and hurting. Find yourself in the electric cart/buggy at the grocery store, thankful for the technology, and just *see* the way our society looks down on it. It was all I could do not to start crying, wanting them to understand that I'm 9mo pregnant with a separated pelvis, instead of the looks of complete disdain I got for daring to be weak enough to be one of "those people."

For a little positivity, I've purposely switched from thinking about my due date as being 2.5 weeks from now and instead thinking that I have 17 days left. The larger number has made me less anxious and I can focus on *not* going into labor during Thanksgiving ;)

The blog today is very Goddess heavy. Fair warning.

And now for the music:

Nine Months
Three Trimesters
Neatly sliced and dated

That's not quite true
Dates are irrelevant
1st Trimester=getting adjusted, hormone change, uncertainty/worry
2nd Trimester=the good life, baby moving, nice pretty baby bump
3rd Trimester=uncomfortable, uncertainty/worry returns, shuffling walk

Yet another glorious display
Maiden, Mother, Crone


...
 I came to this realization when I was behind an elderly lady with a walker, going down the ramp. Her friend, a more mobile, elderly woman looked at me like she half expected me to go around, to be impatient...as we young folk tend to do. I smiled and said, "I'm not getting around much faster these days." She laughed and (of course) asked me when I'm due. I have a hard time answering that...so I laughed and replied, "not nearly soon enough." She wished me well and we went our ways. But in that moment I realized how similar those last few weeks waiting for the transformation through life are to the transformation through death.

I spend most of my day wondering when I'm going to go into labor. Curious if it'll be today, or weeks from now. Very much like elders have told me (and you, as well) in the poignant statements of "it may be my last birthday" or "When you get to be this way, no one comes to visit anymore..." They recognize that they're approaching the end, they've made peace, they're in pain, yet after a few visits, people don't want to hear that they're in pain, no one understands the uncertainty of not knowing when this inevitable thing is going to happen. So they (and I) distract ourselves with TV, books, activities, chatting, while trying to take it easy, not accidentally pull a hip apart, effing tired of laying on the couch and sitting around.

We fill calendars with things that happen at specific times, yet birth and death, the ultimate transformations, give no RSVP.

With this, you can see how easily the rest of the Trimesters line up with the Maiden and the Mother. The cycle repeats yet again. As the moon phases, as the life grows, as the crops are harvested, so is She in all of the cycles.

...
If you made it this far, you deserve a funny. I told Spanish Moss about how *everyone* asks me when I'm due...

Me: Today the lady at the commissary checkout asked me how much longer until I have the baby.
SM: You should have told her, "Aisle 7"

Setting Boundaries...Or: Why I'm an A**hole

Friday, Cold in the house, I might go out and get more firewood

I'm feeling great, y'all. Thanks for asking. Here's your update: So far, for every 2-3 nights that I get no sleep, I get a respite and sleep really great for a night. The baby has been low and (mostly) out of my ribs. I've had energy the last few days and have been very thankful for this time with my two youngens to appreciate and enjoy being the "four of us" before adding another child.

I was feeling so good last night, I cashed in my one and only "go get me whatever I want to eat, no matter what time it is." Last pregnancy, it was a banana and mayo sandwich (stop judging!) at 3am, so SM was more than willing to go out for wings ;) It felt so amazing to be out and about in town while feeling good and motivated and energetic. Even if we go out on the town again as a family before the birth, I think I'll remember this one as our last outing as a family of four. It was that wonderful.

So, why I'm an a**hole...

Back in the day when I was a first time mama, I had lots of people come over after the baby was born. Co-workers, family, friends, all meaning well and wanting to bring me flowers and visit for a bit. Odd thing was, the *last* thing I needed was people to clean for and entertain, germs in and out of the house, worrying about providing dinner if it was getting around that time, feeling awkward breastfeeding and now having to get up and go in a different room and try to hurry him through, which just made everyone frazzled.

My second child could not have been more different. We were in Ohio, far away from everyone. I only had a couple of visitors and they always came bearing frozen lasagnas and toys for the *older* kid to keep him occupied. My BFF came and stayed for a week and it was amazing! She cooked and cleaned and helped with everything so that SM and I could just enjoy settling in to having a newborn and I could lay on the couch, breast out, doing what needed to be done, sleeping mid-day when needed.

Here we are again, this time back in NC, where friends and family are. And of course, I get the call two days ago telling me (yes, telling, not asking...grrrr) that they're all coming on the 9th, which for those keeping count, is 3-4 days after my due date. If it were not for one of them flying in from out of state, I'd tell them to stuff it for another week. I *do* want to see them, but I'm squigging out over having them here overnight, so soon after birth.

Here's where the boundaries needed to be set. At the risk of being talked about for years and pissing everyone off, I set rules (gasp!) for their visit. I talked to all of them individually and laid it out, nicely, tactfully, but quite firmly.

• I need help, not visitors to entertain
• Boobage will be everywhere
• If I'm just laying around on the couch, or sleeping upstairs, just accept it and I'll be up within 2 hrs to nurse again anyway
• You will be feeding me, not me feeding you
• No germs. If you're even sniffly, come back in a few weeks when you're well
• Pitch in and take out the trash, wash some laundry, take the kids to the park...something. Anything.

You know what's crazy? Everyone sounded like they totally, absolutely got it. I set the boundaries clearly, they agreed emphatically, and the worry is gone. It's much harder to do with family than it is with friends, but friends are more likely to be timid and even less likely to just start throwing dishes in the dishwasher. Except for BFF's ;) They get that shit, lol.

This setting boundaries thing is nerve-wracking, but I've gotten much better at it. The worst that happens is someone decides I'm an A**hole and they don't want to visit after all. It has happened before... I'm really kinda okay with that.

Feeling the Shift

Tuesday, chilly, enjoying the fall weather/apples/fireplaces/cocoa

Last night, I felt the shift occur. The big huge mental shift from "yippee, being pregnant, growing a baby" to a sudden, almost shocking panicked realization of "OMG! I have only a few weeks left!!!"

It happened as I was enjoying a relaxing bath, thinking about what's coming up, holidays, festivals, and paydays, the midwife's home visit...good stuff, ya know? Floaty, chill, musings. A small jolt at realizing that car insurance is due next month on the 19th, and that's only in 2.5 weeks and then HOLY CRAP! I'm due 2.5 weeks after that! Instant electric shock to the psyche. Everything went from relaxed to panic in a nanosecond.

Today has been incredibly different from every other day in this pregnancy. All thoughts that have floated across my brain have been prefaced with "how close is this to 5 weeks from now?" Or random thoughts about the 6 week bleeding after (and the ban on sex) and that I have less than that to go.

I'm going to have a newborn.
I need to get everything together.
The crib is still in the garage.
Why the hell is the midwife's number not on a sticky note?
The LIST of stuff to get together! GAH!

Here I've been, chillin', drinking cocoa and cross-stitching and out of nowhere nesting came and hit my ass off of the couch with a broom. The time has come. The time is now. Thanks, Marvin K. Mooney, I got the hint.

Better go check the date on that infant car seat, like I've been saying I'm gonna do.

What is my umbilical cord today?

My husband did a recent post on his blog, http://witchingpath.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-center-of-devotion-home-altar.html, which got me thinking about our mental attachments throughout the day. I'm going in a totally different direction than his, but it did spark the original thought.

Here's what I've learned to be true and right with me:

• When the kids are little (read=toddler age and younger), I'm hyper-connected to them. Like there's a psychic/emotional/mental (I'm going to call this PEM) connection to them. I don't like them being far away and would feel extremely anxious if I wasn't near them for a period of time.
• Whatever I do first in the morning sets up my PEM umbilical cord. If I'm concerned with getting housework done, schooling the kids, devotionals, paying bills, XYZ that's important and coming up soon, it's where my awareness comes back to repeatedly. It can cause anxiousness, but it's also very important to actually getting the important stuff done.
• (don't read if you love your morning facebook addiction) When I get on FB in the morning, or blog, or post on social media in any way, it creates a tether. It sets my own PEM umbilical cord that *pings* me every few minutes. 

Here's the kicker...I'm finding them to be exactly the same. My tether to my altar and my devotionals. My tether to my kids and my awareness on them. My tether to "checking facebook." My tether to the list of what needs to be done. I can choose them or they can *ping* me against my will, but they're all powerful.

And further adding to that, there is one ring to rule them all. When I get into the mode I'm in right now...writing a blog, highly concentrated, all the rest get pushed to the side and even *irritate* me by their existence. No kids, I don't want to hear that you're hungry. I'm working on something that's SO IMPORTANT!

Holy crap.

I'll hit publish on this, go to do my housework and stuff, and I promise you that I'm going to be hyper-aware of the computer for the next few hours. *headshake* It's an amazing survival instinct for keeping our babies safe, a lifeline for the baby forming in my tummy, a great way to get every.thing.done.that.has.to.be.done.before.this.weekend. and so forth. But it is powerful and we create it more than we realize.

Where have you put your PEM umbilical cord today? Mine is, I'm ashamed to admit, linked into cyber-space today. I think a trip to the park, with the phone left in the car, is in order. If I can create this link, I also have the power to diminish its sphere of awareness within me. See ya on the flipside. I'm out for the day.