This is being written in a bit of a hurry, and I'll probably have more to add, but I've done a bit of reading/talking to my mentor @ CBI and I've realised that I really need to value the work I do more.
It's difficult when you are just starting out, in unknown territory, you're still studying, the only experience you've got is the birth of your own children (although on thinking about it, those experiences have taught me a lot!). I admit that I really want my first two clients so I can get that piece of paper to get me 'certified'. But is a piece of paper really going to make that much difference? Am I going to suddenly know more, or care more, or do more, just because a piece of paper says I can? I really admire Carla Hartley from The Trust Birth Initiative/ Ancient Art Midwifery Institute, and I often read about her passion for getting RID of all the paperwork, red tape, etc. About getting so caught up in being registered or whatever that you sacrifice the women you are supposed to be caring for in the process. That a piece of paper means nothing - it is the women that mean something. I must admit she also seems a bit like me in wanting to keep her services cheap and accessible not because she doesn't value them, but because she is passionate about what she does and it goes beyond the issue of money. Doesn't help our bank accounts though, so somewhere along the line, something's gotta give...
I know I will support every one of my clients however I can/they want me to. No doubt I will spend hours of my time with my clients/researching things for my clients/talking to my clients/travelling to my clients. I will spend money travelling to my clients, I've already spent money on beginning a lending library, not to mention the cost of the course itself, advertising etc. I will most likely need childcare at some stage.
My wonderful mentor has said to me that by not charging these first two clients at all simply because I'm still studying, does that mean I do not value what I do enough to expect people to pay? And if I don't value it myself, how can I expect my clients to? It certainly stirred something in me and has made me consider what value I do place on my work. I also read something similar in the "Work of Heart" Photographer's handbook - if you charge little or nothing, then people see that as you not valuing the service you provide, and often they then don't value it either.
I care about women. I want to support and inform women, and in an ideal world, I could do that for free. In an ideal world, women wouldn't need hired doulas because they'd have their own woman community surrounding them as they did 'in the old days'. But many women don't have that support, and need to look elsewhere. While I hope to establish relationships with my clients, perhaps even ongoing friendships if it works out that way, I think if I am going to put so much time, money and passion into what I do, into a business, then I am worthy of some financial reward, even if it's minimal.
I am going to stand by my word, and keep my offer of 'my two qualifying clients free', but with a slight adaptation: By offering you this service, I am making a commitment - financially, physically and emotionally. I value the service I provide you, even as a student, and believe I can offer you a high quality service. Therefore, I am asking that my first 2 qualifying clients make a donation for my services (amount at your discretion).
I DO value my work, and admit I did get caught up in the 'I'll do anything to get clients'. Why? Because I'm EXCITED! I'm PASSIONATE! I can't wait for the day I can witness the miracle of birth and be there supporting a mumma (and partner if there is one) in what will be one of the most defining moments of that family's life. I want to be out there 'doing', and not just reading (like a maniac LOL) and studying about it.
Just because I love what I do though, doesn't mean I should undervalue it in a business sense (and as much as I cringe about calling what I do a 'business', and it reminds me of how hospitals have become money-hungry institutions making money out of women's misfortunes and all too often traumatic experiences, I have set out hoping I can cover my costs and supplement my family's income by doing this, so in essence, it's a business). I certainly don't want to come across as money hungry, because that is not who or what I am, so I sincerely hope that is not the message you've gotten from all this!
Phew. That was a bit of a jumbled mess.
Thank you all for bearing with me as I find my feet in a entirely new world to me.
:)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Where I'm at and where I hope to be.
In August 2010 I commenced my studies with Childbirth International (CBI) - I enrolled in the Birth Doula, Postpartum Doula and Childbirth Educator courses, and hope to one day complete it with the Breastfeeding Counsellor course.
I have relished the study, and aside from the readings and study itself, I have started a library of my own with lots of pregnancy, birth and parenting related books. One day soon I hope to have a list of recommended reading on here.
In December, I finished the theory component of the "Birth Doula" course. Now, I need 2 clients to complete the course and gain certification.
I have moved on to the Postpartum Doula course now (which has some common units), though with Christmas and New Years haven't made much progress. I am hoping this year to give myself some 'allocated study time' where my husband takes the kids out and lets me study in peace. When that is completed I will do the Childbirth Education course.
My aim is to complete all three courses by the end of 2011, so next year I will be a fully certified Birth Doula, Postpartum Doula and Childbirth Educator!
I am based in Moranbah, QLD, but will service many areas of Central Queensland including Mackay, Clermont, Dysart and Emerald (other areas can be arranged).
At the moment I am in need of two clients to work with antenatally, during birth, and in the postpartum period to gain my qualification. Therefore I am offering my services for a donation towards my costs (amount at client's discretion).
Please contact me at nurturedbyjen@hotmail.com if you would like any more information.
I have so many ideas about things I'd like to write about on this blog. Upcoming topics will include: Mother Baby Separation vs Kangaroo Mother Care, APH and PPH, Birth and Sex, What can a doula do for you?, Birth Options for Rural Women and more. These are particular interests of mine, but more and more new interests are arising the more I study/read/experience.
I have relished the study, and aside from the readings and study itself, I have started a library of my own with lots of pregnancy, birth and parenting related books. One day soon I hope to have a list of recommended reading on here.
In December, I finished the theory component of the "Birth Doula" course. Now, I need 2 clients to complete the course and gain certification.
I have moved on to the Postpartum Doula course now (which has some common units), though with Christmas and New Years haven't made much progress. I am hoping this year to give myself some 'allocated study time' where my husband takes the kids out and lets me study in peace. When that is completed I will do the Childbirth Education course.
My aim is to complete all three courses by the end of 2011, so next year I will be a fully certified Birth Doula, Postpartum Doula and Childbirth Educator!
I am based in Moranbah, QLD, but will service many areas of Central Queensland including Mackay, Clermont, Dysart and Emerald (other areas can be arranged).
At the moment I am in need of two clients to work with antenatally, during birth, and in the postpartum period to gain my qualification. Therefore I am offering my services for a donation towards my costs (amount at client's discretion).
Please contact me at nurturedbyjen@hotmail.com if you would like any more information.
I have so many ideas about things I'd like to write about on this blog. Upcoming topics will include: Mother Baby Separation vs Kangaroo Mother Care, APH and PPH, Birth and Sex, What can a doula do for you?, Birth Options for Rural Women and more. These are particular interests of mine, but more and more new interests are arising the more I study/read/experience.
Hindsight and Healing.
Hindsight is a beautiful thing. It's also a difficult thing. There are many things I would change about my life, including my decisions surrounding birth and parenting.
But in the last 8 months, I've realised that you just can't allow yourself to get caught up in the 'I wish's', the 'What ifs', the 'If onlys'. But you can't ignore them either, or they just fester.
I still think 'What if I'd not asked for a stretch and sweep?', 'What if we'd not been in Mackay that day?', 'Why didn't I just demand for them to give M oxygen while he was having skin to skin instead of taking him away?' and ... 'Why didn't I just hire a midwife and stay home?' 'Why didn't I trust my body? Why didn't I trust birth?' And they are important questions. They are valid questions. Instead of just having the what ifs go through my head over and over and over though, I answered them. It was a bit confronting and painful, but I feel that I had to explore the questions and the answers if I was going to get past it, and if I was going to change it for the future. I learnt. I learnt the hard way, but I still learnt. And it has turned my world upside down.
Today, I feel SO much different than I did in the weeks and months immediately following M's birth. I was SO consumed by regret and sadness. Now I feel empowered. Of course I still wish it had been different, I always will. But that's ok. It doesn't mean I love him any less. It doesn't make me a bad mother just because I made the choices I did.
I even feel proud. Twice I birthed in hospital. Twice the births were relatively straightforward and both times the baby exited the way nature intended. Few drugs were used (only gas with H and about 4 sucks of gas with M + the synto both times, but with M only after the placenta was delivered and I had a PPH). If I feel proud now, imagine how proud I will be when I give birth at home :)
I also feel lucky. I went in fairly blind both times, though the second time I was a little more informed (though I've since realised how much more there is to know!), and I came out the other side. Both times there were reasons I could have been forced into surgery. I didn't know in 2008 that many hospitals have a '1 hour pushing' rule, and if you didn't comply, the baby was forced out by way of forceps/vacuum/cesarean. Somehow I managed to push for almost 3, and no talk of any such interventions. Phew, I now consider that, knowing what I do, a 'lucky escape'! I also know that many times when APH (antepartum haemorrhage, which I experienced with M's birth) is diagnosed, it is immediate cesarean - luckily for me the only intervention was ARM (artificial rupture of membranes), though other interventions were threatened.
I really feel like I am at peace with his birth now. Sometimes things trigger me, and I feel sad/angry/regretful/etc, but it is much more fleeting now. And I don't hide those feelings, I address them, I embrace them, then I move on and accept them as part of my journey.
I am so passionate about birth and all things related. I am excited about the information I now have that I can share with other women. I am looking forward to supporting other women during such an amazing and lifechanging time of their lives, and encouraging them to make informed decisions and be in control of their own births, however they want them to be. Yes, I freely admit it will be difficult to watch women make decisions that would be different to my own, or that don't align with what their wishes are, but I respect that it is their birth and their journey - it is not my own. All I can do is provide the information, encouragement and support for them to become empowered and make informed choices.
I have gone on my own journey, and while it's not the journey I imagined or wanted, it's mine. Every woman's journey is her own and noone else's. That is what gives women power. We are allowed to be angry and upset at the role/s other people played in our birth experiences if they were less than ideal - whether that be scare tactics employed by obstetricians or midwives that have chosen 'policy' over being 'with woman', but we also need to take responsibility for our own choices - whether that be the choice of care provider, consenting to unwanted or unneccesary interventions or whatever else. There is ALWAYS choice. I don't feel I had power at the time of M's birth, but by going through this journey I have FOUND my power. My role is not to take that journey and that power away from other women, but to encourage them to find their own power.
Birth is not an emergency. It is simply an emergence. (Jeannine Parvati Baker.)
But in the last 8 months, I've realised that you just can't allow yourself to get caught up in the 'I wish's', the 'What ifs', the 'If onlys'. But you can't ignore them either, or they just fester.
I still think 'What if I'd not asked for a stretch and sweep?', 'What if we'd not been in Mackay that day?', 'Why didn't I just demand for them to give M oxygen while he was having skin to skin instead of taking him away?' and ... 'Why didn't I just hire a midwife and stay home?' 'Why didn't I trust my body? Why didn't I trust birth?' And they are important questions. They are valid questions. Instead of just having the what ifs go through my head over and over and over though, I answered them. It was a bit confronting and painful, but I feel that I had to explore the questions and the answers if I was going to get past it, and if I was going to change it for the future. I learnt. I learnt the hard way, but I still learnt. And it has turned my world upside down.
Today, I feel SO much different than I did in the weeks and months immediately following M's birth. I was SO consumed by regret and sadness. Now I feel empowered. Of course I still wish it had been different, I always will. But that's ok. It doesn't mean I love him any less. It doesn't make me a bad mother just because I made the choices I did.
I even feel proud. Twice I birthed in hospital. Twice the births were relatively straightforward and both times the baby exited the way nature intended. Few drugs were used (only gas with H and about 4 sucks of gas with M + the synto both times, but with M only after the placenta was delivered and I had a PPH). If I feel proud now, imagine how proud I will be when I give birth at home :)
I also feel lucky. I went in fairly blind both times, though the second time I was a little more informed (though I've since realised how much more there is to know!), and I came out the other side. Both times there were reasons I could have been forced into surgery. I didn't know in 2008 that many hospitals have a '1 hour pushing' rule, and if you didn't comply, the baby was forced out by way of forceps/vacuum/cesarean. Somehow I managed to push for almost 3, and no talk of any such interventions. Phew, I now consider that, knowing what I do, a 'lucky escape'! I also know that many times when APH (antepartum haemorrhage, which I experienced with M's birth) is diagnosed, it is immediate cesarean - luckily for me the only intervention was ARM (artificial rupture of membranes), though other interventions were threatened.
I really feel like I am at peace with his birth now. Sometimes things trigger me, and I feel sad/angry/regretful/etc, but it is much more fleeting now. And I don't hide those feelings, I address them, I embrace them, then I move on and accept them as part of my journey.
I am so passionate about birth and all things related. I am excited about the information I now have that I can share with other women. I am looking forward to supporting other women during such an amazing and lifechanging time of their lives, and encouraging them to make informed decisions and be in control of their own births, however they want them to be. Yes, I freely admit it will be difficult to watch women make decisions that would be different to my own, or that don't align with what their wishes are, but I respect that it is their birth and their journey - it is not my own. All I can do is provide the information, encouragement and support for them to become empowered and make informed choices.
I have gone on my own journey, and while it's not the journey I imagined or wanted, it's mine. Every woman's journey is her own and noone else's. That is what gives women power. We are allowed to be angry and upset at the role/s other people played in our birth experiences if they were less than ideal - whether that be scare tactics employed by obstetricians or midwives that have chosen 'policy' over being 'with woman', but we also need to take responsibility for our own choices - whether that be the choice of care provider, consenting to unwanted or unneccesary interventions or whatever else. There is ALWAYS choice. I don't feel I had power at the time of M's birth, but by going through this journey I have FOUND my power. My role is not to take that journey and that power away from other women, but to encourage them to find their own power.
Birth is not an emergency. It is simply an emergence. (Jeannine Parvati Baker.)
The day that changed my life and led me to this calling.
After H's birth, which was a fairly straightforward hospital birth, my interest was sparked in pregnancy and birth stuff, but in hindsight, only to a superficial extent. I started participating in forums and reading all the parenting magazines. But I never truly 'got' it.
That is, until M's birth in May 2010. Here is his story.
M's story is one that I've written about half a dozen times. The first time - facts. It was just a retelling of facts. I was still taking it all in, still in denial perhaps? The second, I was trying to get my head in a positive space - so I wrote a new story trying to make it sound better than it really was. Then there were others where I started to really 'nut it out'.
This one, I didn't [originally] write for an audience. It was written in my diary at the beginning of August.
Here goes...
M's story is difficult for me to write. My heart still aches for our birthing journey.
Even though Haylee's early months were difficult, motherhood was a huge adjustment and I felt lonely, isolated and unable to cope - by the time she turned one, I was very much ready for another. L wasn't so convinced however. By then, I was also back at work [full time] and finding it incredibly tough. I'd lost my passion for music, and teaching. I resented the time work took away from my little girl. I hated having to bring work home. I felt isolated from my colleagues and I was desperate to go back to being a mumma.
In July 2009, L turned to me and said "OK, let's have another baby". Needless to say, I was thrilled! I was even more thrilled when a month later I found myself squinting at a test thinking "Is there a line?" followed by another the next day that confirmed that yes, I was pregnant! We were both over the moon.
Even though I wasn't exactly 'traumatised' by H's birth (except the tearing issue), I knew I wanted this time to be different. I wanted continuity of care, I wanted L to be able to stay with me, I wanted it to be natural and magical and amazing. So I booked into the Birth Centre - a decision I will regret for the rest of my life. The antenatal care was fantastic, amazing, and the midwives were so wonderful. We spent hours at our antenatal appointments and formed strong bonds with the 4 midwives that work there. I felt so cared for, and 'informed'. But little did I know...
Anyway, back to the pregnancy for a moment. Looking back now, I don't really know how I survived being pregnant, looking after a toddler and working full time. It was SO hard - especially as I didn't stop vomiting until 20 weeks. Try hiding that from a bunch of nosy teenagers! I made the decision to finish work at the end of the school year and spend the remainder of my pregnancy with H at home. That time was amazing and much cherished, although by the last few weeks I was so exhausted an in pain (bad back/sore legs/nerve pain) that I just wanted the baby out! We also knew this time we were having a boy, but still referred to the baby as 'Grub', which he had been dubbed the night I told L I was pregnnat and long before we knew it was a boy.
So finally, the magic 40 week mark arrived, but still no baby! I was so upset and in so much pain. MIL had come up to look after H while M was born (yep, invited herself again, after pissing off for the 2 years in between births, and again I was too stupid to say no). So on the 6th May we went in to the Birth Centre appointment I'd hoped I wouldn't need. We packed our bags, just in case, and intended to ask the midwife to do an internal to see where things were at (I wanted to know if it was close or not - not really how little that means and how quickly things can change) - she was hesitant and tried to talk us out of it (oh how I wish I'd listened), but after some tears and anxiety about leaving Haylee at home, or bearing the 2 hour trip home only to need to come straight back, she agreed - on the condition we stayed in Mackay for 24 hours in case it triggered anything off. And that was the beginning of the end...
So the stretch and sweep was done - things were not looking very favourable. I admit I was rather disappointed. I really wanted to meet our little man and I didn't want to be away from my baby girl. But we decided to make the most of it - we went window shopping, saw a movie, took some photos at the beach (including my last pregnant photo), had a nice dinner, enjoyed a spa in the motel room.Then, we decided to see if we could 'get things going' (wink wink nudge nudge). As part of this, L felt 'down there' and realised it was very wet. We turned the light on. Blood. Fresh blood. I stayed fairly calm but L freaked out. He called the midwife while I stood in the shower. The midwife, N (who I'd never met as she was relieving another BC midwife - I was devastated because I'd really wanted a midwife I knew), told us it could have just been from the stretch and sweep, and to call her back if there was any more bleeding. 10 minutes later she called back, saying she'd been thinking about it, and would prefer if we went in for a quick check. So in we went - leaving our bags behind, anticipating it would be a quick check then back to the motel. Well, the 20 minute CTG trace ended up taking an hour and a half because they weren't getting the results they wanted. By the time they finished it was about 1130pm. Anyway, they then asked me to check my blood loss. I had a sinking feeling, as I knew there'd been more blood, I could feel it. Sure enough, there was. So the doctor was called in to check things out. By then, a student midwife, R, had also joined us [with our consent]. I was SO thankful, as she was amazing. I honestly don't know what I would have done without her, especially since N, my 'medwife', just didn't show ANY compassion, feeling, support.
So the doctor came in, poked and prodded (quite roughly too) and said she didn't know waht was causing the bleed so we had to get the baby out (typical scare tactics, I wish I hadn't listened). She had to look after another woman first, then would come back and break my waters. I reluctantly agreed. They also put a cannula in - saying they hoped that breaking my waters would be enough, but if not, they'd have to give me synto to move things along...or a c/s. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It wasn't supposed to be happening like this at all. I felt it all spinning out of control. I was supposed to be in the birth centre, with L and a midwife I knew, having a beautiful, intervention-free birth. Why was this happening? Why hadn't I prepared for this? I expressed my dissatisfaction about the drip (and secretly prepared myself to fight against it) and my intense desire to NOT have c/s. I hoped my body could do its job despite their interference, as I had been getting contractions, but nothing serious.
At 1.15am the doctor was back to break my waters. I wish I'd refused. I wish a lot of things actually, but anyway. So my waters were broken and things got intense, fast. The good news was that I was already 4-5cm dilated, which was encouraging. Maybe I could do this after all. But having my waters broken made the labour much harder to handle and I was struggling. Luckily, they hadn't strapped me down to the bed for monitoring - I wanted to be able to move, and shower, and I made this very clear. The shower was good for a while, then I wanted to try something different. I ended up kneeling on the bed with my arms resting on the bedhead, I'd been bouncing on the fitball too. I started giving in to the pain, even though L and R were so supportive and encouraging. I begged for pain relief, it felt like my insides were being ripped apart and I remember crying that out a number of times. I cried, I said I couldn't do it. N asked if I wanted an internal to see where I was at and whether there was time for an epidural, even though she doubted it. I agreed. The result - 8cm. Sounds good but I was devastated - I was too far gone for an epidural [which I now see as a blessing in disguise] but still had 2cm + pushing, and it had taken hours to push H out. L and R asked if I wanted another shower as I was complaining I couldn't get comfortable anywhere, and I didn't know what I wanted, so back to the shower it was.
That walk from the bed to the shower must have been something pretty fantastic because as I walked I got the most intense feeling of the baby moving down. I sat on the chair in the shower as a contraction hit and felt huge huge pressure immediately. I couldn't sit down! I had to brace myself weith my arms on the arms of the chair and remember saying [over and over] "I need to poo. I can't stop, I can't stop it". I stood up and leaned on L with my arms around his neck, still with that intense urge to push- which I loved, because I knew my body was doing what it needed to, and I was listening. The midwives brought in a mat and placed it on the floor. I gratefully got down on my hands and knees and just kept pushing. They told me if I didn't get up after this contraction I'd be having my baby on the bathroom floor. And on the bathroom floor was where he was born! I felt his head emerging, though I had to ask "Is his head out?", to which they answered yes (Just as an aside, I now had K as my midwife, as N had gone to attend another woman at the BC). The next contraction - whoosh! I felt his body leave mine, and the most amazing sense of relief and empowerment! My baby was here and I'd pushed him out of my vagina! At 345am on the 7th May 2010.
The midwife passed him up between my legs (as I was still on my hands and knees) so L and I could meet our little man. He was beautiful. Perfect. I stared at him. I drank in the sight of this new little person L and I had created, and I nurtured inside me for 40 weeks. I cried tears of joy, exclaiming "He's here, our little boy is here". I just stared in wonder for what felt like forever, and I touched him, held his hands, spoke to him. Time stood still in that wondrous moment. A couple of hasty photos were taken at my request. L picked him up, held him out and spoke to him. I didn't notice anything wrong. But then, before I'd even got to hold him, they told me they had to take him away. His breathing was 'noisy'. No, they can't take my baby. L had cut the cord too - I asked if it had stopped pulsing and they said yes, but I'm not sure...
L then went with them while they administered oxygen in the room. I'm glad he had his daddy there. But after 30mins things hadn't improved so they were taking him to SCN. And I still hadn't held him. I remember L saying to the midwives, "But Jen hasn't even had a cuddle" [God I love that man], but they took him anyway, saying his breathing was more important [and yep, sticking him in a little plastic box is the only, and the 'best', way to fix that...
Meanwhile I was helpless and bleeding. I delivered the placenta but then needed the needle and a drip as I'd lost a lot of blood [850ml all up], so couldn't stand without almost passing out. I cried for my baby. I cried for our birth, that had been taken away. Eventually I got back to the bed, and then needed to be stitched up. I was terrified. By now, every fibre of my being ached, longed, for my baby. Why wasn't he here? Was he scared? Was he hungry? Was he lonely? I wanted to see him. I cried. I begged. The student midwife offered to go and check on him. She came back and I burst into tears - she had brought him back to me! She placed his tiny [well not so tiny at 9lb3oz and 58cm], naked, warm body under my shirt and I finally felt his soft skin on mine. I cried some more, this time tears of relief and happiness (though I am sure some of it was sorrow too at the time, the precious first hours, we had lost together). I kept exclaiming 'My boy, my little boy'. I loved him immediately, deeply and unconditionally...
This was written a while ago, and since then I have done a lot of healing. That will take a separate post though.
So it was after this incredibly defining moment in my life that I just knew there had to be more. This blog will share with you some of what I am learning about what pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and parenting really can, and should, be.
That is, until M's birth in May 2010. Here is his story.
M's story is one that I've written about half a dozen times. The first time - facts. It was just a retelling of facts. I was still taking it all in, still in denial perhaps? The second, I was trying to get my head in a positive space - so I wrote a new story trying to make it sound better than it really was. Then there were others where I started to really 'nut it out'.
This one, I didn't [originally] write for an audience. It was written in my diary at the beginning of August.
Here goes...
M's story is difficult for me to write. My heart still aches for our birthing journey.
Even though Haylee's early months were difficult, motherhood was a huge adjustment and I felt lonely, isolated and unable to cope - by the time she turned one, I was very much ready for another. L wasn't so convinced however. By then, I was also back at work [full time] and finding it incredibly tough. I'd lost my passion for music, and teaching. I resented the time work took away from my little girl. I hated having to bring work home. I felt isolated from my colleagues and I was desperate to go back to being a mumma.
In July 2009, L turned to me and said "OK, let's have another baby". Needless to say, I was thrilled! I was even more thrilled when a month later I found myself squinting at a test thinking "Is there a line?" followed by another the next day that confirmed that yes, I was pregnant! We were both over the moon.
Even though I wasn't exactly 'traumatised' by H's birth (except the tearing issue), I knew I wanted this time to be different. I wanted continuity of care, I wanted L to be able to stay with me, I wanted it to be natural and magical and amazing. So I booked into the Birth Centre - a decision I will regret for the rest of my life. The antenatal care was fantastic, amazing, and the midwives were so wonderful. We spent hours at our antenatal appointments and formed strong bonds with the 4 midwives that work there. I felt so cared for, and 'informed'. But little did I know...
Anyway, back to the pregnancy for a moment. Looking back now, I don't really know how I survived being pregnant, looking after a toddler and working full time. It was SO hard - especially as I didn't stop vomiting until 20 weeks. Try hiding that from a bunch of nosy teenagers! I made the decision to finish work at the end of the school year and spend the remainder of my pregnancy with H at home. That time was amazing and much cherished, although by the last few weeks I was so exhausted an in pain (bad back/sore legs/nerve pain) that I just wanted the baby out! We also knew this time we were having a boy, but still referred to the baby as 'Grub', which he had been dubbed the night I told L I was pregnnat and long before we knew it was a boy.
So finally, the magic 40 week mark arrived, but still no baby! I was so upset and in so much pain. MIL had come up to look after H while M was born (yep, invited herself again, after pissing off for the 2 years in between births, and again I was too stupid to say no). So on the 6th May we went in to the Birth Centre appointment I'd hoped I wouldn't need. We packed our bags, just in case, and intended to ask the midwife to do an internal to see where things were at (I wanted to know if it was close or not - not really how little that means and how quickly things can change) - she was hesitant and tried to talk us out of it (oh how I wish I'd listened), but after some tears and anxiety about leaving Haylee at home, or bearing the 2 hour trip home only to need to come straight back, she agreed - on the condition we stayed in Mackay for 24 hours in case it triggered anything off. And that was the beginning of the end...
So the stretch and sweep was done - things were not looking very favourable. I admit I was rather disappointed. I really wanted to meet our little man and I didn't want to be away from my baby girl. But we decided to make the most of it - we went window shopping, saw a movie, took some photos at the beach (including my last pregnant photo), had a nice dinner, enjoyed a spa in the motel room.Then, we decided to see if we could 'get things going' (wink wink nudge nudge). As part of this, L felt 'down there' and realised it was very wet. We turned the light on. Blood. Fresh blood. I stayed fairly calm but L freaked out. He called the midwife while I stood in the shower. The midwife, N (who I'd never met as she was relieving another BC midwife - I was devastated because I'd really wanted a midwife I knew), told us it could have just been from the stretch and sweep, and to call her back if there was any more bleeding. 10 minutes later she called back, saying she'd been thinking about it, and would prefer if we went in for a quick check. So in we went - leaving our bags behind, anticipating it would be a quick check then back to the motel. Well, the 20 minute CTG trace ended up taking an hour and a half because they weren't getting the results they wanted. By the time they finished it was about 1130pm. Anyway, they then asked me to check my blood loss. I had a sinking feeling, as I knew there'd been more blood, I could feel it. Sure enough, there was. So the doctor was called in to check things out. By then, a student midwife, R, had also joined us [with our consent]. I was SO thankful, as she was amazing. I honestly don't know what I would have done without her, especially since N, my 'medwife', just didn't show ANY compassion, feeling, support.
So the doctor came in, poked and prodded (quite roughly too) and said she didn't know waht was causing the bleed so we had to get the baby out (typical scare tactics, I wish I hadn't listened). She had to look after another woman first, then would come back and break my waters. I reluctantly agreed. They also put a cannula in - saying they hoped that breaking my waters would be enough, but if not, they'd have to give me synto to move things along...or a c/s. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It wasn't supposed to be happening like this at all. I felt it all spinning out of control. I was supposed to be in the birth centre, with L and a midwife I knew, having a beautiful, intervention-free birth. Why was this happening? Why hadn't I prepared for this? I expressed my dissatisfaction about the drip (and secretly prepared myself to fight against it) and my intense desire to NOT have c/s. I hoped my body could do its job despite their interference, as I had been getting contractions, but nothing serious.
At 1.15am the doctor was back to break my waters. I wish I'd refused. I wish a lot of things actually, but anyway. So my waters were broken and things got intense, fast. The good news was that I was already 4-5cm dilated, which was encouraging. Maybe I could do this after all. But having my waters broken made the labour much harder to handle and I was struggling. Luckily, they hadn't strapped me down to the bed for monitoring - I wanted to be able to move, and shower, and I made this very clear. The shower was good for a while, then I wanted to try something different. I ended up kneeling on the bed with my arms resting on the bedhead, I'd been bouncing on the fitball too. I started giving in to the pain, even though L and R were so supportive and encouraging. I begged for pain relief, it felt like my insides were being ripped apart and I remember crying that out a number of times. I cried, I said I couldn't do it. N asked if I wanted an internal to see where I was at and whether there was time for an epidural, even though she doubted it. I agreed. The result - 8cm. Sounds good but I was devastated - I was too far gone for an epidural [which I now see as a blessing in disguise] but still had 2cm + pushing, and it had taken hours to push H out. L and R asked if I wanted another shower as I was complaining I couldn't get comfortable anywhere, and I didn't know what I wanted, so back to the shower it was.
That walk from the bed to the shower must have been something pretty fantastic because as I walked I got the most intense feeling of the baby moving down. I sat on the chair in the shower as a contraction hit and felt huge huge pressure immediately. I couldn't sit down! I had to brace myself weith my arms on the arms of the chair and remember saying [over and over] "I need to poo. I can't stop, I can't stop it". I stood up and leaned on L with my arms around his neck, still with that intense urge to push- which I loved, because I knew my body was doing what it needed to, and I was listening. The midwives brought in a mat and placed it on the floor. I gratefully got down on my hands and knees and just kept pushing. They told me if I didn't get up after this contraction I'd be having my baby on the bathroom floor. And on the bathroom floor was where he was born! I felt his head emerging, though I had to ask "Is his head out?", to which they answered yes (Just as an aside, I now had K as my midwife, as N had gone to attend another woman at the BC). The next contraction - whoosh! I felt his body leave mine, and the most amazing sense of relief and empowerment! My baby was here and I'd pushed him out of my vagina! At 345am on the 7th May 2010.
The midwife passed him up between my legs (as I was still on my hands and knees) so L and I could meet our little man. He was beautiful. Perfect. I stared at him. I drank in the sight of this new little person L and I had created, and I nurtured inside me for 40 weeks. I cried tears of joy, exclaiming "He's here, our little boy is here". I just stared in wonder for what felt like forever, and I touched him, held his hands, spoke to him. Time stood still in that wondrous moment. A couple of hasty photos were taken at my request. L picked him up, held him out and spoke to him. I didn't notice anything wrong. But then, before I'd even got to hold him, they told me they had to take him away. His breathing was 'noisy'. No, they can't take my baby. L had cut the cord too - I asked if it had stopped pulsing and they said yes, but I'm not sure...
L then went with them while they administered oxygen in the room. I'm glad he had his daddy there. But after 30mins things hadn't improved so they were taking him to SCN. And I still hadn't held him. I remember L saying to the midwives, "But Jen hasn't even had a cuddle" [God I love that man], but they took him anyway, saying his breathing was more important [and yep, sticking him in a little plastic box is the only, and the 'best', way to fix that...
Meanwhile I was helpless and bleeding. I delivered the placenta but then needed the needle and a drip as I'd lost a lot of blood [850ml all up], so couldn't stand without almost passing out. I cried for my baby. I cried for our birth, that had been taken away. Eventually I got back to the bed, and then needed to be stitched up. I was terrified. By now, every fibre of my being ached, longed, for my baby. Why wasn't he here? Was he scared? Was he hungry? Was he lonely? I wanted to see him. I cried. I begged. The student midwife offered to go and check on him. She came back and I burst into tears - she had brought him back to me! She placed his tiny [well not so tiny at 9lb3oz and 58cm], naked, warm body under my shirt and I finally felt his soft skin on mine. I cried some more, this time tears of relief and happiness (though I am sure some of it was sorrow too at the time, the precious first hours, we had lost together). I kept exclaiming 'My boy, my little boy'. I loved him immediately, deeply and unconditionally...
This was written a while ago, and since then I have done a lot of healing. That will take a separate post though.
So it was after this incredibly defining moment in my life that I just knew there had to be more. This blog will share with you some of what I am learning about what pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and parenting really can, and should, be.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Welcome
To all my friends, family, fellow birthworkers, mothers and other followers,
I am proud (and excited! And nervous!) to announce the birth of my new business/'calling'...
{Nurtured} by Jen - birth support and childbirth education.
This name encompasses what I believe the role of birth support to be - someone who is there to nurture the mother (and the partner), support her, and fulfil her needs during pregnancy, birth and the postnatal period.
This blog will follow my journey towards becoming a qualified and established birth doula, postnatal doula and childbirth educator.
I will also share my thoughts on many facets of pregnancy, birth and parenting, along with links to other interesting articles and blogs.
Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy following my journey.
Jen
I am proud (and excited! And nervous!) to announce the birth of my new business/'calling'...
{Nurtured} by Jen - birth support and childbirth education.
This name encompasses what I believe the role of birth support to be - someone who is there to nurture the mother (and the partner), support her, and fulfil her needs during pregnancy, birth and the postnatal period.
This blog will follow my journey towards becoming a qualified and established birth doula, postnatal doula and childbirth educator.
I will also share my thoughts on many facets of pregnancy, birth and parenting, along with links to other interesting articles and blogs.
Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy following my journey.
Jen
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