A quirky little aspect to my blog is my silent audience. On a daily basis I typically receive more personal emails than I do 'comments.' Even though my stats tell me that a few thousand of you show up on a daily basis- you are all very quiet. My friend who gets around 300 hits a day regularly has 10-15 comments a day. So, I think of you all as the quiet, introspective types. But I get emails with personal stories and some pretty hefty questions daily. I do not mind answering them publicly as I've always been a pretty out there laundry airer. I think it gives others permission to do the same. When we hear about someone else's humanness, it let's us all of the hook of perfection a bit I think.
So, the other day after my birthday reflections post I got an email asking me how I dealt with the hospital birth of my oldest daughter when I had planned a homebirth. Not only had I planned a homebirth but I was quite involved in the homebirthing community and was working as a doula halfway through my pregnancy. So, was I disappointed? Embarrassed? Did I feel like I let certain people down for having a hospital birth? And how did I come to trust in another homebirth after having to have the hospital birth?
Lots of good questions here and since many of you are still in the birthing phase of life I'll share some of these answers here.
First of all this was my version of her birth:
Home, in water with soft music playing, lights dimmed and incense burning. It would not really be painful, just 'intense" and my midwife would stand by while basically I instinctually did everything on my own. Only myself, the father and midwife would be present. ya.
Then I would carry her in a sling 24/7 and breastfeed until she was at least 2.
The reality:
Visit my midwife at 34 weeks while in hot and heavy labor. Have her go to examine me and the minute I got up on the table have her scream, "Holy @#$! You're at 6cm with a huge bag of water bulging between your legs. I'll get my stuff. Get in my car because if that water breaks you're having a baby in the car!" ok. A Hollywood style transport ensues complete with driving on the sidewalk and on the wrong side of the street. Thank God for Jeeps.
Once at the hospital, my water breaks and drenches 3 nurses in the process (I had polyhydramnios- 4 times the amount of amniotic fluid). The neonatologist comes to check the baby by reaching his hand up inside me and finds a spongy, soft thing where a head ought to be. 5 or 6 more dr.'s do the same and conclude that my baby will likely be born without a skull and die within 48 hours. My husband is on a flight home from Japan and my mom and sister are staring at me at the foot of the hospital bed. But my midwife has stayed and acts as my doula. She is my anchor. I am on my back and also have a bladder infection due to the polyhydramnios. I have opted to go without the recommended c-section or epidural. For those out there that have had a bladder infection while in labor you can attest to feeling nothing but an intense pulling on the bladder with each contraction. No matter how bad any other area of your body feels it doesn't matter because all you feel is the most intense burning sensation in the bladder.
So anyway at this point I was completely overwhelmed on so many levels that I really needed to focus 100% of every possible ounce of strength I had to deal with this. Luckily, I had really put in some good training ahead of time. I'd done lots of mediation, hypnotherapy type stuff and even had a dental work done au natural in prep for birth. So I left the hospital entirely and retreated to a hammock on a beach in Bora Bora. There I called the spirit of my unborn to me and we had a chat. I told her that I'd always seen myself as a mother who would not impose her own will onto her child. I of course imagined that to be years down the road, but if it meant that she did not want to move into her physical body at this time and decided to leave, she had my support. I knew in spirit we would always be together and I released any attachment I had to how this whole thing played out.
Back in the hospital a well formed pink baby girl emerged with a skull fully intact. Due to her bowel obstruction (yet to be diagnosed) she could not process the amniotic fluid so her vernix built up into a huge superball like substance that was over an inch thick. That was what the dr.'s thought was brain, rather than skull. The neonatology TEAM (about 8) were waiting to whisk her off immediately. But my midwife shouted at them, "Give her to the mom! Her color is good and she's breathing." So, I held her in my arms and just then a phone call came through from her dad on a plane that just received clearance to use the phone after take off and I held the phone to her ear as the first two voices she heard were her mother and father's. Timing like that can only be divinely planned.
When the dr.s did take her away to start the barrage of tests on her I recall my birthing instructor, who was a Sikh, telling us that whatever happens to our baby -we must not abandon them energetically. Babies are still mostly in spirit form (which is why it's so important to keep them away from things like loud tvs and radios) and you can stay with them in spirit by staying connected to them. The thing that absolutely breaks that connection is self pity. The minute one moves into a state of, "I can't believe this happening to me!" or "Why me?" or "My poor baby is alone." that connection to you is broken. I felt so 'with' her when she left it was hard for me to comprehend what my sister meant when she spoke the words to me, "Do you want me to go with her so she's not alone?" Alone? I thought. Not only am I with her, an entire field of angels is also with her- but sure come along if you like. I am forever grateful to the good teachers I've had.
Then came the next set of news - that something was wrong and she needed to be transported to UCLA medical center for exploratory surgery. The head of surgery was to do the job, who turned out to be a beautiful woman in her 30's her had just the day before gotten engaged. She was an absolute angel. When I met her she said, "I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out ok. She'll be fine." I was told I could probably not breatfeed since it's really hard to establish a good milk flow by pumping alone and it would be a few weeks before she could eat anything. I became a pumping queen eating an El Polla Loco chicken bowl from the food court every few hours to ensure maximum calories in my milk. Three weeks later when we were released, I had 178 bags of breastmilk in the freezer! The thing about boobs is that they produce enough milk to keep up with consumption. So if you constantly drain them with a pump, they keep making more! I was getting 8 ounces per boob every few hours. It was nuts. I could've fed 6 babies easily. And I never pumped again.
While in the hospital I realized a few things that really disturbed me. For one, the absolute and complete total ignorance on behalf of the 'holistic' or 'alternative' community. I was given more bad advice than I though humanly possible. The woman whom I bought my sling from told me I should "demand that they put breastmilk in her IV or they'll give her sugar water instead." When you are in the midst of stress and it is still unclear at that point whether your baby lives or not is not the time to try to be polite to someone and say, "Um...well, you can't actually put milk into VEINS without killing someone!" DUH. Or the woman who told me I must insist on an accupuncturist coming into the NICU to put needles into her to help with her digestion. Ok, people. No amount of needles is going to remove a segment of bowels that is a string rather than a tube and sew it back together. As much as I really believe in alternative methods, they have their place and western medicine has its place. It is important to not loose your brain when traveling down the path of 'holistic.' Particularly from that community, I received so much advice and so little support. It was all my mainstream old pals that pulled through for me and it puzzled me on many levels. Still does, quite frankly.
This was a truly humbling experience for me on so many levels. I did, as I still do, believe that western medicine is out of control and often misused. But I had become very cynical and quite elitist in my views towards the western dr. This experience shifted my views dramatically and I have profound respect for surgeons and people who dedicate their lives to this field. But it also really showed me that when someone is in a place of distress it is NOT THE TIME FOR GIVING ADVICE!!! It is simply the time to offer support. My friends who had time but not children offered to do nothing for me. My friends who had themselves just had a baby went out of their way to bring me food, bras, pads, whatever I needed. Mothers are different from women. Once initiated into that group we are never the same. There is nothing in the world more comforting than coming home after 18 hours in the hospital every day and finding a really good home cooked meal in a warming bag on the kitchen counter with a little note inside.
I have never forgotten that feeling and even mere acquaintances receive a good meal from me after giving birth. Friends of friends, I don't care- cook and give and leave quickly. If I open my mouth I make sure it is to say, "What else can I do for you?" and nothing else unless asked.
My first born has been my greatest teacher all along. Whenever there is something I have 'decided' is best as a parent, she has questioned and proved otherwise. I wanted a homebirth, she required a hospital birth. I wanted to 'sling' her. Due to her surgery, she required no movement. I wanted to unschool her, she choose to go to school and loves it (though is not in it right now for travel reasons, she hopes to go back as soon as possible). I thought by being so 'alternative' in my choices a kid would go along with it! But nope. She's come to teach me to tune into my child before making my own decisions based on reading, or looking at other people's lives. They really have little to do with individuals. Real 'holistic' parenting comes from tuning in and following that rather than some form of dogma. It's really about looking at the 'whole' picture, the whole person and really realizing that it's quite arrogant to think we know what's best for any other person.
I had no hesitation in having a homebirth after this experience because I trusted in the process and in my midwife. She drove me to the hospital when necessary. That was the appropriate place to head to under the circumstances. I knew her judgement would be equally good the 2nd time around. My family of course was mortified because of 'what happened last time.' But those are the same family members that were mortified of my last trip to Iran. The most important thing we can have is a strong spiritual connection and an intact sense of intuition. When we get quiet and ask for direction we will receive it and then no amount of outside disturbance can distract us. Sure, someone can tell me it's dangerous to have a homebirth, to travel to Iran as a female with children, to not vaccinate, to homeschool and on and on, and yet by trusting in something greater than myself and not living life being terrified of death, I continue on my path. Learning along the way and adjusting as I go, I just move forward one step at a time. A life lived without passion is so much more frightening to me than dying.
