My Day as a Doula

I have permission to tell this.  My side of the story.  My day as a doula for "Little Mama."

I was recently humbled to be asked to serve as doula for another laboring mother.  My second time.

It.  Was.  Awesome. 

We'll call her "Little Mama"---

Little Mama had a baby girl within a week or so of my Julien's birth.  Her experience was in her own words - a nightmare.  A nightmare that stuck with her physically and emotionally for the last almost three years.

Picture a young girl laboring twenty-five plus hours left alone in a delivery room, in pain, vomiting, then cut (deep) as she said "please don't cut me" - her young husband rendered incapacitated by the trauma of it all.  Her baby taken from her after all that work for "cleaning" (as if she was dirty)... stitches that blew out after months had gone by and numbness in her spine from the epidural that lasted months.

That's the quick version of the story.  A nightmare indeed.

This time around she wanted something different.  Totally different.
So we began to talk, she began to be re-assured (this strong, marathon runner's confidence in herself and her body had been shot to hell).  I lent my favorite books.  (Birthing from Within and the Bradley Workbook).  We talked words to be spoken, how I would speak them.  We talked expectations.  We talked vomiting (I assured her it was totally normal.  I ask for the barf bowl every time!).  We talked scared husbands, episiotomies VS tearing, "dirty babies", positions, we talked about her desire to labor AS MUCH as possible at home.  Lot's of talks.   Lot's of preparation.

Then I got the email one afternoon.
A little pink.  A little crampy.
She graciously gave me the heads up.  She knew I was very stressed about leaving my own family.  I never leave my kids.

I was excited.  I packed my bag.  Pumped a little more milk and tried to fall asleep that night with adrenaline coursing thru my veins.

I couldn't sleep.  I got up to pee at 12:36 a.m. with the phone in my hand and on my way down the hall it rang.  Ten minutes apart.  She was going to head to her mother-in-laws (she lives up north) and she would call me later.  I willed myself to get as much sleep as possible.

3:35 a.m. phone rings.  Her water has broke.  And contractions are suddenly 4-6 minutes apart.  My heart began to pound - I might as well have been going into labor myself I was so jazzed.   I threw on some makeup (I can do this in four minutes), grabbed my bag, kissed my sleeping babies and drove off into the darkness that only a country road can provide.

When I arrived I could tell she was really into it.  They were four minutes apart and we had had a 5-1-1 rule for leaving for the hospital that is about 45-60 minutes away.  (Contractions five minutes apart for one minute each for one hour.)  She labored thru about 20 minutes of contractions and we decided to head right out.  I had Joel's Jeep full of tools and stuff in the back with seating for two only.  She insisted on riding me with.  Her husband and mother-in-law drove behind.  Can you believe I had to get gas??  The station I passed on the way to her house was closed when I had driven by earlier.

We held hands as we drove the LONG way down Illinois Route 12 as contractions went from four minutes apart, to three minutes apart... at that point as I was watching her I felt she was getting ready to "transition".  Her conversation diminished and her head rolled back during contractions as she "checked out."  At this point, knowing she had an epidural the last time I asked her, "Have you ever felt pain WORSE than what you are feeling right now?"  She hadn't.  She said she thought this was the point she got the epidural the last time.  We held hands during the next contraction and I waited for her to have a brief moment of composure and I gently let her know that it was indeed going to get worse...

As we arrived at the hospital she directed me, so, I listen to the pregnant woman :) and we parked where she told me to park.  It looked a little lonely but I didn't want to argue.  She was in the throws of it at this point and we had QUITE a bit of a walk ahead of us.

We sat for a second and I warned her she was about to have another one and I said I would then come around to her side of the Jeep to help her out.  She did.  I did.  I gathered all the bags up in my arms and helped her out.  At this point she was leaning on me with all she had and she experienced another one.  I pointed to some concrete stairs across the parking lot and I pep talked her, "OK, we are going to do one more and then we are going to get over to those stairs and when we get there you are going to have another one and after all that walking, it's gonna be a big one."

We did.  And it was.

And then I said, "Now we are going to climb these stairs and when we get to the top you are going to have another one and it's gonna be big."

We did.  And it was.

And then I pointed to an entrance and I said, "Oh girl.  Now we are going to haul ass over to that entrance.  It's gonna be hard.  But you can do it.  These contractions are doing exactly what you want them to do!"

We made it to the entrance and she was done.  That was it.  I grabbed a wheel chair from the corner and said to the receptionist in this lone lobby, "We're having a baby here!"  She explained we were no where near the L and D wing and she called for someone to come with the golf cart thingy.  Poor Little Mama was racked with another contraction to the horror of the man getting ready to escort us to the other side of the hospital.  We hopped on and she continued to work.  I held onto her, she did her best to relax, I cracked jokes on what seemed like a LONG drive and she didn't flinch.  She was focused.  I knew she was getting close.

He brought us as far as he could and we saw the elevator about thirty feet away.  It was time to get off and walk again.   "Is that a trash can?"  she asked.  Oh boy, I thought and we hurried over and she grasped it with both hands and pulled it to herself and puked and puked and puked.  I held her.  She slid to her knees.  Tears dripped down my face.   Empathy.  I grabbed the can and pulled it to her so she could go again.

Now, this may sound like a drama.  But it wasn't.  It was amazing.  It was so early in the morning not another soul was around.  It wasn't an emergency.  It was just a woman in labor.  Walking.  Working it.  Just like she wanted to.

I knew we needed to get upstairs.  She was tired.  I was time to get to the bed.  I coaxed her into the elevator and told her to hold on.  They were double peeking by now.

We went up four floors.  I looked to the right and could see her family already waiting in the waiting room.  (Everyone beat us there because our parking lot marathon took us so long).  We went to the left.  Buzzed the door.  Gave her name and her nervous husband (who met up with us as we came off the elevator) fumbled for the insurance card. Little Mama went down out of the wheel chair and experienced a contraction down on the floor.  "We HAVE to get her to the room NOW!"  I said.  A nurse came to help her into the chair and Little Mama said to her, "I hate you!"

It was so funny.

We got her to the room and then of course it seemed like our little bubble was burst.  I knew she felt like it was "do this, do that."  "Take of your clothes and put on this robe and belly band thing."  "Hop up on the bed."  "Now we are going to get your ready for an IV just in case you need it."

With each direction she was given I explained "You're gonna have to wait a minute."  Good grief, you can't change your clothes in the middle of a contraction.  Once she was on the bed another nurse came in with her little kit to get ready for a possible IV.  In between each contraction they were poking her, trying to find a vein.  I wanted to strangle them.  I know they were just doing their job but it was SO ANNOYING!  Finally the Little Mama said, "Yeah, you're done here."

It was so funny.

The poor nurse looked to the midwife and the midwife confirmed, "I don't think that's going to be necessary."  Then she checked her.

7 centimeters!

"I told you!"  I said, "I told you that parking lot would do the trick!"

For someone who was in labor thirty hours the last time neither she, nor her husband nor her mother-in-law who was also present could believe it!  Hope was here.

The contractions were one on top of the other.  I would assure her when they were about half over.  And let her know when they were seconds from over.  
"Get me a mirror!"  she yelled.

A few more contractions and then the lull.  The lull that the LORD gives you before all hell breaks loose.  She looked at me like, "What happened?"  Don't worry, I assured her.  You are almost done. 

And then.  The agony.  She worked so hard.   Her midwife was very quiet - to the point where I thought I better speak up to help her out.  (I just didn't want to step on any professional toes).  I suggested switching positions.  And she labored.  And she pushed.  We moved her again.  And she labored.  And then finally... (though not much time at all had gone by) finally... a little head began to appear with the pushes.  Then it would disappear.  This happened about four times.

She was gone.  Drunk with pain.  She had my hand.  Crushing it.
I was so grateful when the midwife mouthed the words "Just give her two fingers."

Her face was buried in the pillow and I got close and assured her she could do this.  I reminded her how strong she was.  A marathon runner!  She was confused.  Needing assurance like so many of us do at the end.   I think she just didn't realize that this could be the end.  Both the midwife and I said to her "We are waiting for you to push him out."  And she looked at me like, "Really?"  "Yes, Little Mama, push him out.  You can do it!"

We changed her over to her left side and I grabbed her right leg and held it strong and Little Mama pushed with all her might - twice turning a shade of beet red that only a laboring woman can turn.  Tears burned my eyes.  She screamed.  I watched her use a contraction for that last push and I watched her push on still as that contraction faded.  And out came a baby boy!

"You did it.  You did it!"

"It's over.  It's over!  I'm not pregnant"

Exact words I have said "many" times.

She was handed her bloody, sweet little boy.  No one took him.  No one took her dignity.  She radiated confidence and power.  Even her husband who had been so overwhelmed at the first birth... he cut the cord.  You could see the relief and confidence in his eyes too.

I had left the house at 3:45 a.m. and was home by 9:30 a.m. and I even shagged a Starbucks on the way.  Not bad.

It was awesome.  It was humbling.  I can't believe someone wanted me present at the birth of their child.  I loved it.  I really felt like I knew what I was doing, like I  knew I could help her.  It was not only a great memory for her but for me too.  I hope to be asked again very soon.

HERE IS HER SIDE OF THE STORY...
http://momfriendforever.blogspot.com/2014/05/daniels-birth-story.html

Common Core? Common Bore.

Whole Heart School is now in session.

The baby is three weeks and a half weeks old now so I figured we'd better get started on school.  I didn't spend any time with the kids keeping things fresh in their minds during this summer as I intended (aside from reading with the big boy) - but hey, I was fat, hot, miserable... pregnant.  We are brushing up on reading, carrying, borrowing, multiplying, and just plain paying attention!  It's really amazing what a couple months more of maturity does to a child!!  It's been THREE days and they are like little SPONGES and just catching on SO quick, PRAISE GOD!  We are going to have a great year (by the Grace of God).  Our studies will include the second half of the Old Testament, ancient Greece and map reading.  Math, science (the systems of the body, astronomy and an in-depth bee study to get ready for our farm bees next spring).  English, creative writing.  We will also be learning French (in a more formal fashion than before), cursive (which many people have told me their kids aren't learning in school anymore), typing, piano, violin and studying musical composers and artists... Degas, Van Gogh, Rockwell... Chopin and Handel to name a few.  (I will post my posters again if you would like).  I won't be throwing up every ten minutes this year so I am thinking it's going to be an amazing.  I look forward to Christmas break to access how we are doing and what the kids have learned.  We have decided to spend our mornings doing farm chores, mom's Turbo Fire work outs, errands, baking and being a family and to school in the afternoon while it's quite and the little ones are sleeping.  GENIUS!!!

Lately I keep seeing these two words:
"Common Core" on the Internet.

I can't tell if I am bored with it or a bit concerned.

Homeschooling is huge for me.  That and homebirth.  What I mean is, the minute we loose our rights to do these two things with our children.  Well... fricken' forget it.  To me, that's about as bad as it can get.   It's off to hide in Appalachia if you know what I mean.

So many people give me grief about these two passions of mine... grief or "concern".  Like, What if your baby dies... How will your kids be socialized?  Don't you need a break from them?  And my favorite, Are you going to Homeschool all the way through highschool? As if I am going to (and that's the plan so far) well, as if that would be a bad thing.  I mean come on, generally speaking, have you SEEN what's coming out of public high schools lately?  I don't want my kids to turn into that.  I don't want my kids around that.  Please, don't read me the riot act how your kids and your public school are different... I know... that's why I said GENERALLY SPEAKING.  Not every kid is going to be stupid or go off the deep end and turn into a twerking, texting, twit.  But, like I said, I just don't want my kids around it.  (Come on, twerking, texting twit?  THAT was funny.)

Now,  I have friends with awesome families that I LOVE and greatly respect who have their kids in public school and that's the beauty of the country right now - we can each decide what is best for our families.  I have no desire to be dogmatic about something like education.  However, just like natural/home birth I hope that everyone does their research and knows what is going on in each system and what, if any, alternatives there are.  Some mom's would LOOSE THEIR EVERYLOVIN' MINDS if they taught their own kids.  Trust me - I understand.  I've lost mind many times.  Thankfully Jesus found it for me and brought it back!  It still doesn't stay put too well.

But - this Common Core thing creeps me out.  And so far, from what I have read I am not very impressed.  It seems like another control freak, knee jerk reaction to the disaster that is (GENERALLY SPEAKING) our school system.  It looks like everyone is going to have to jump "how high" to make sure they are all on the same page.  I've read stories of desperate curriculum changes to accommodate what is going to be on the tests.  I've read of horribly low scores on states who are running preliminary tests after making those curriculum changes.  

Supporters say Common Core only tests students in math and English, but critics say school districts will devise curriculum to maximize their students' performance on the national exams, and, in fact, have already begun that measure. And those same critics claim Common Core math standards barely cover basic geometry or second-year algebra and that the classics are all but ignored in English classes.
“The math standard focuses on investigative math, which has been shown to be a disaster,” Glyn Wright, executive director of Eagle Forum, told FoxNews.com. “With the new math standard in the Common Core, there are no longer absolute truths. So 3 times 4 can now equal 11 so long as a student can effectively explain how they reached that answer.”

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/08/30/new-age-education-fuzzy-math-and-less-fiction/#ixzz2ednlXvBY

There are some serious questions we need to have answers to-
Whose writing these tests?
What is their background/agenda?
What if it is a disaster?  Will they admit it?

And how does this affect Homeschoolers and our choice of what we teach our kids?  See, I think it's really going to affect us when it comes to college.  For the most part we homeschoolers are teaching our kids differently than a public school education.  Ours is more of a classical education if you will (GENERALLY SPEAKING).  We aren't wasting time teaching about so-called "Global Warming" or whatever palatable name they call it these days.  There's no "Janie has Two Mommies".  We aren't reading "technical writings" as is one of the focuses of Common Core (or so I have read - that schools will focus less on the classics) -- we've already introduced our kids to Kipling, Robert Louis Stevenson and Mark Twain.  Critics say the loss of focus on classic literature will hurt children's ability to think critically.  

Yikes.  That's what we need are more kids walking around with an inability to think.
I just want my children to have depth and a wicked (strange pun?) understanding of our faith... to know that there is life beyond an Ipod or Xbox.   And to know how to (lovingly) argue an atheist into a corner.  (The numbers are frightening when you look at how many "Christian" kids leave the faith upon entering university -  that says a lot about their upbringing, the pagan culture of college or BOTH!)

Anyways, what I am saying is, if the whole system "out there" changes then where does that leave homeschoolers who want to apply for college?  NOT that college is a focus in this house.  Don't get me started on how college is not for everyone.  It just seems like this could put a lot of pressure on homeschooling parents to conform in order for kids to be taught what is on the tests.

???

And I can't tell yet if that really concerns me or like most things...
really bores me.

Born on a Farm... Anaïs Madeleine's Birth Story

Well, it's been one week.

How is that possible?

Here she lies next to me, making those little sounds.  Those little sounds that you only get to enjoy for a few weeks out of your entire life as a mother.  

Deep breath- don't cry.

I never imagined a 5th baby could be late.

I read the stories of course but thought, Oh that's just ridiculous.

All my kids have been on their due date of a couple days before.
My last one was 11 days early so I just thought naturally of course...

At 39 weeks I was 3 cms just as I had thought, but hadn't really felt as much of that "grinding" as I should have.  You know, that feeling like they are doing a breakdancing head spin on your cervix???  And I hadn't had hardly any of those nerve shoots down the inner thigh... you know, the ones that make you jump in public, that you can't quite describe?  I call them zingers.  

So, I started to work for it.  Walking like CRAZY with the kids.  Dance parties EVERY night with them after dinner.  Then came 40 weeks and still no baby.  But oh!  The pressure!  I thought she was going to fall out if I moved wrong.  My walk began to look like I was riding a horse.  

It was not pretty.

Every day I thought - this is it.

I country danced with the kids.  I Lord-of-the-Danced with the kids (they are obsessed) I booty danced with... well, not with the kids.

HA!

Tues-day, I surprised the kids and took them to the theater to see Planes (don't bother).

 Earning BEST-MOM-EVER status.

Tuesday night.

Discomfort melt down.

Wednes-day.  Took them into town for new coloring markers at Target.
Earning Certifiably Crazy status.

Wednes-afternoon - got the house COMPLETELY picked up.  All my ducks in a row.

Wednesday night.

Discomfort melt down.

 And that was the straw that broke the camels back.

I was SO done. 

I wanted my baby.

Thursday morning I woke up at 5:05 and crept downstairs for my secret,

 I-can't-take-this-anymore weapon:

One mini bottle of vodka.

2-3 tablespoons of castor oil.

6-8 oz orange juice.

 Mix.

Slam.

Pray to not barf.

Hot shower.

Back to bed.

At 6:30 I woke up with that cramp.  

That contraction. 

 Not a braxton hicks, but the real one I had been waiting for!  Julien (still needy sometimes) nursed for about 5 minutes and I knew we were in business.  I sent him downstairs, rid myself of the effects of the castor oil (TMI - But come on, it's a birth story - the whole thing is TMI) 

and went back to sleep for an hour.

At 7:45 I woke up.

In pain.

SA-WEET!

Hollered for Joel to call my Mom and get her on her way (she watches the kids downstairs for us, but she lives an hour away).  Told him to call the midwife.

I got up, thru on a skirt and my favorite Minnie Mouse t-shirt and a little makeup just to feel human (cause that matters) and marched downstairs, announced to the family,

"I am going to walk the driveway!"

to the delight of my kids who began to celebrate the arrival of their baby!

Oh, and walk I did.

Back and forth.

Up and down.

Taking no mercy on myself.

For the first little bit I wasn't really contracting... 

and I just really pushed myself but then they kicked in.

Marching thru contractions with that awkward, there's-a-head-in-my-crotch gate.

I am Parisienne Farmgirl.

Hear me roar.

I had to rejoice.

It was beautiful out.

God had answered my prayers again - I always pray I will have my babies in daylight... pain is so much worse for me mentally at night.

There were no neighbors walking by with their dogs.

No one to wave to.

I was alone.

Well, not quite.

The chickens and the goats were cracking me up.

Everytime I would walk by they would run (in their run/pen) to follow me.

Then when I would walk back the other way they would follow in that direction.

Like an old Atari video game.

Soon children came out to run and play with kittens.

Soon I waved for Joel.

No more contractions on my own.

I needed him to hold on to.

Whoa.

Oh boy.

I think I walked out there the better part of an hour during which my Mom showed up - perfect timing.  Couldn't focus on anyone else now.  Then... there was that one contraction where I said to Joel that as much as I didn't want to, we had better head upstairs. 

Once we got upstairs things slowed down a bit.  

Just for a minute but I had two more contractions where I "heard myself" and I knew we were rockin.

With the one we were in the bathroom and I looked at Joel and said, "Where IS she?"
 Not REALLY wanting another bathroom delivery! 

Finally after what seemed like an eternity... I only later found out it was about 15 minutes from the time I came in from outside to the time the midwife and her two helpers arrived.  

I was back in the bathroom after walking up and down our little hallway and had another doozy.  She called from the hallway that she needed to "check me" after hearing those sounds, you know, that slight grunt at the end of the contraction, I don't blame her.

I told Joel, like I always do (especially after the blank-hole that attended my first birth -- I am still bitter.) that if it was "bad news" as far as my dilation, I didn't want to know.  Nothing is more defeating than going thru all that pain then to have someone tell you that you haven't progressed.  But, I was at SEVEN!!!
And she told me I wasn't quite ready to push but that
I could a bit if that would help me manage the pain.  

"So, I am not going to be doing this 'til 4 in the afternoon?"  I desperately asked.

"Oh, honey, You're gonna be holding this baby at lunch time."

"That's all I needed to know.  I am just going to sit here and cry now."

And wept I did.  Like I seem to always do in labor.

So emotional.

Then the transition.

Ugh.

One after another.

Me crying that I just wanted to sleep.

Me confused and walking back and forth from the bathroom to my bedside.

Walking, swaying.  Not knowing where to go... what to do.

Then this lady, who I had never met before hopped up on the bed across from me and told me "how great I was doing" and reminded me to breathe out and down to the baby... channel the air... use it.  Who the hell was she?

What the hell was she doing on my bed?

Her voice grated against me like sandpaper.

Didn't she know I've done this before... 

I almost slapped her.

But then I looked up, I knew she was right.

If you've ever helped a woman in labor before there gets that point for some where they need a little firm re-direction.  I obeyed.  In thru the nose, out thru the mouth, down toward the baby,
lowering my tones...

Then, that feeling,

That INCREDIBLE feeling that I will never feel again.

As crazy as  it sounds, despite what I was saying aloud my heart was saying,

"Remember this.  This is birth.  This is your baby coming down to meet you.  In however many years God blesses you with, remember this feeling of your baby... inches from your world."

It was an eternity.

It was a second.
 As I felt her finally break thru the cervix.

"Here she comes!"  I cried.

Two pushes and her head came out.

I was SO relieved I flopped forward on the bed and then realized she wasn't out.

 Everyone telling me to hold on.

I HATE THAT!

Screw you guys, I thought.

My contractions had stopped so I took a deep breath and pushed  

one-

more-

time.

That amazing feeling of the shoulder pop.

That second/eternity 'til you feel "the slither" - and you know it's over.

"Thank you Jesus" I must have said a hundred times.

"It's over."  a hundred more.

They untangled her (she was looped around her neck, shoulder, legs... no wonder they were telling me to hold on) and handed her to me.

And that was that.

The unexpected little one.

The one that rocked my world the morning after we moved to the farm.

I can still feel the world spinning, I'll never forget how I almost fainted.

I'll also never forget the tears I shed.

Thinking I was done having babies.

I struggled for so long with it.

I cried so many nights praying that God would take away the desire or else...

I guess He chose the "else".

****

Thank you Father for this new, "last time" I hold in my arms.

How in heavens name you see me... so fallen... fit to raise another child of Yours...

OK, OK... A Photo of Me (and Belly)

OK, another request just came thru (others have come via email and FB) so...

There it is girls.

The belly.  A couple weeks ago.

NO maternity clothes this time around.

They suck.

Instead I went to ROSS (like TJ Maxx) and bought a bunch of XL and size 12/14 dresses to get me thru.  Besides, the last couple weeks I live in my sun hat or baseball cap and bathing suit.  I LOVE this photo of Joel and I.  It had been a LONG time since we had one taken.  And come on!!!  The dress???  It's so fun with the belly and next year will be just as fun after two rounds of Turbo Fire.  It's floor length and has just made this prego butt feel great the couple times I have worn it this summer.  (I rarely leave the farm).

Belly is a bit bigger now two weeks later but I have to say - running a farm, farmette, homestead... whatever trendy word you want to use these days does wonders for the expecting figure... weight gain has been about 34 pounds but I feel like for someone who is only 5' 4" I am carrying it a bit better this time.  Must be all those Turbo's last year and all that chicken poop shoveling and planting I guess.  Not to mention wrangling four kids all day and living 12 long miles from my much coveted Culvers chocolate malt with extra malt powder instead of 2 minutes. 

Here is me-n-my smokin' hot, newly expecting sister-in-law.   SHE looks awesome and I could NOT be happier for her!!!

There you have it.  

The belly.

This weekend as a family we will make the belly cast - the kids always love that.  Someday I am going to hang all five of them from the wall like a work of art.  

It's amazing that this little one is just inches away from us.  

We are all SO excited.

As of this Saturday I have approval for a homebirth.  I can go anytime after that.  Please pray with us for another successful home birth - it's very important to me.  I don't "do" hospitals:) 

Love you girls!

-Angela

Parisienne Farmgirl

 

THIS. IS. MY. LIFE.

He nailed it.

I coughed up my spleen.

Hacked up a lung.

Almost died from laughter.

Surely this man has been spying on us.

The "look people give you when you tell them you have four kids" --- perfection.

  

Bon Weekend.

I'll be ripping out 35 year old carpeting - hope YOU have more fun!!!!

The Little Sister Baby Story!

Obligatory disclaimer-

Yes, I have permission to write about this.

Yes, it's from MY point of view, my memories from that day.

Yes, it's a LONG post.

:)

First of all...

This is me swearing 8*&*&^%^%

because I MISSED my 1,000th post!

It was my most recent post and I didn't even realize it!

Blogging since October 2005.

W.O.W.

How could I miss that?

I had big plans!

Anyhoo!

Forget 1,000th posts...

I FINALLY got to be a Doula!

Butcher,

Baker,

Macaron Maker...

DOULA!

You remember the bizarre story about my little sister and the loss of her baby... (SEE HERE)...

Well, when the good news came thru she asked me to be her Doula and OF COURSE I said YES!  You know me - the birth junkie.  The wanna be know-it-all about all things "down there" and newborn related.  

Hahahaha!

Ovulation, conception, natural birth, how to prepare (and look great afterwards)... I'm a born (again) preacher and once you ask me a question you create a monster cause I'll give 
you every bit of advice I have.

My poor sister.

:)

But last Wednesday night I could NOT sleep, which is TOTALLY abnormal for me (especially on account of these KILLER workouts I've been doing that I can't wait to tell you about).  Tossing and turning... I wanted to punch the wall I was so mad.  In my delirium I thought I heard the phone ring, but I laid there and told myself I was crazy.  I waited for it to ring again, or for Joel's cell phone over on the dresser and... nothing.

Hours passed.

The baby JuJu woke up really early and Joel brought him in for me to nurse, just as he does every morning.  We got all snuggled together when I heard Joel say, "Oh crap!" as he looked
 at his phone to check the time.

6 missed calls.

One of them from my (and my sister's) midwife!

We were in business!  

Now mind you, this was a good two weeks early so my bag was not packed yet!  (I had planned to get everything ready that Saturday).

It was 5:30 a.m.

By 6:15 I was pulling out of the driveway.

Camera - check

Video camera - check

My lemonade requested by Chelsea - check

Change of clothes - check

Gas in the tank - check

Cheerleader uniform - check... O.K. no, not really.  
But I was ready to support girlfriend for the next 24 hours if need be.

By 6:50 I was knocking on her door (28 miles away).

Chels was doing good, making conversation, she was really jazzed about her home birth...

"Oh this isn't so bad."

"I don't know everyone doesn't do this."

I just smiled.

By 10 a.m. she was a bit more uncomfortable and already to 6 cms.  But she was already telling me how tired she was which I thought was a bit odd, again I kept quite, but suggested a nice shower.  

"Wash your hair, shave your legs, put on your favorite lotion, a fresh nightgown."  
She did and was glad for it.

Things seemed to be really progressing by watching her and listening, but she was still around 6 cm (her labor had started at 11:30 pm the night before) so the Midwife offered to break her water.  After that things seemed to really kick in for Chels.  In fact, I was pretty sure we couldn't have more than a couple more hours to go but then, she kept saying how tired she was.  It was (is) VERY hot out, and so we were giving her lots of fluids and little gummy things that marathon runners use - but she wasn't really into it.  We suggested a tepid bath which slowed things down a bit and she actually drifted in and out of sleep.  Hours passed... Derek and I found a moment to talk and he shared with me that she had been out in the sun for five hours the day before (100+ degrees).  NO WONDER she seemed so tired.  She probably went INTO labor dehydrated.  

She and Derek were doing SO good.  They were a team.  He held her any way she wanted, she breathed, she relaxed thru the contractions...  You could see her relief to be in her own home.  And that is my main excitement over home birth.  I mean come on, what do you feel upon just VISITING someone at the hospital?  You know, when you leave, you are just so happy to be "out of there".  Well, it's the same for laboring Momma's.  Our bodies respond to that stress - especially first time Moms.  Did you know that 26% of first time Momma's will have a C-section at the hospital in America (I think the worldwide average is 4%!!!).  Don't get me started...


Anways - Chels wasn't getting anywhere.  She was still at 6 cms and saying how tired she was so we came up with a plan.  For hours we had been talking her out of the sleep she wanted to badly.  It seemed to us that laying down would be such a waste (since she wouldn't be able to "use"  her contractions to their utmost effectiveness).  We were concerned that she would wake up just as tired.


BUT!


In true Midwife fashion - Debbie allowed Chels to listen to her own body!  She gave me the go ahead to go talk to
 her and I presented two options -


  "It's 4:30.  They'll give you an IV so you can get some more fluids in you.  Your lips look dry - we are worried that you are dehydrated.  If you actually think you can sleep between contractions then you should do that.  At 7:30 we'll wake you up and if you feel just as tired as before, we'll transfer to the hospital - not for a C-section, but for more fluids and maybe an epidural so you can get some more rest.  When it's time to push we'll have them turn it down because we know you want to be fully engaged.
OR
When you wake up, if you feel refreshed and ready to rock it, then we are gonna rock it Chels (From one Alias fan to another) 
Sydney Bristow style!

Deb hung that IV from a hook on Chelseas window and true to her word - she was OUT!  
This gave me a chance to run over to my Mom's (who had come to my house to get my kids) and nurse a
 VERY pissed off little baby Julien! :)
As I was grabbing my keys to head back (a 12 minute drive) Deb texted me 
"8 cm and slight desire to push"


WHOO~!


ZIP - BOOM- BONJOUR!
WE ARE BACK IN BUSINESS!

When I came running up the stairs to their apartment Chels was rocking' the "on all fours" position with her head down on the mattress.  Now let me tell you this - I have had four babies "au natural" -- the first one took 28 hours and those a--holes (pardon me, but I am still mad about it) transferred me to the hospital.  It is a PHENOMENAL thing to be in the same room as someone whose body is wracked with pain and you can just get up, and go pee or get a fresh glass of water.  
It's like you are in the same room but WORLDS apart
 - it blew my mind.  


I knew where she was.
She was delirious with pain.
Frantic at the idea of this taking 2, 4, 6 more hours.


But I could hear the slight grunt and the end of those moaning breaths and I told her confidently, "Chels... we're looking at less than an hour here.  You can do this."


To quote me & Chels's favorite workout instructor
"YOU-ARE-NOT-TIRED!"
"YOU -JUST-GOT-YOUR-SECOND-WIND!"


See, my sister, God bless her, is always worried about everyone else. It is, frankly, a bad habit.
She'd be walking down the hall and she glance into the kitchen where the midwife and nurse were hanging out and she'd say, 
"You girls O.K.?"


Us women KNEW that she hadn't hit that stride yet - that place in labor where you don't give a rats you-know-what about anyone else.  That place where your world is so small, so focused...
 so primal.


We were waiting for that to happen for Chels.
For her to let go and let labor - 
and she finally was.


Desperate to get comfortable, she was on her knees, then standing, then her knees, til' she told Derek to sit behind her as he had often been throughout the day.  
Pushing time had come.


Now - let me pause here, and tell you
 about my brother-in-law Derek.
I'll try to keep it brief, but you know how I feel about men (See all my "Where Have all the Cowboys Gone" posts that thrill or upset so many people).  But - if there were more 24 year olds like DEREK in American the world would be a better place.  Can you think of a 24 year old man who would support his wife wanting to have a natural, at-home birth... LET ALONE have a wife AT ALL!???  
On D's side of the bed are all sorts of books, 


"Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters"
"Wild at Heart"
"The Kid Who Climbed Everest"
"Federal Husband"


On his mirror are bible verses and notes to his wife.
He's got them on a budget.
He's leaving' and cleavin' the way more men should
(sorry, that's a Christian joke that may be lost on some of ya'll)
Very.  
Impressive.


Now let's push.


Like me the first time, Chels wanted to be told how to push, 
It's so weird, your instinct is there, but there is something actually comforting, after so many hours of being out of control, to be given an assignment.  


She rocked it.


I could see Derek behind her and could only imagine how numb his legs were... Chels would make eye contact with me (kneeling next to the Midwife) as if to say "This is it right?  This is happening?"  
I encouraged her as best I could.  She was working so hard!
And then...
hair.
And the killer "don't push" moment to keep 
you from blowing a gasket!  
And then, head.
Then a shoulder... and
slither!
She was OUT!


Screaming like a little 5.5 pound banshee!


When Aidan was born everyone yelled, 
"He's so big!"
When Ivy June was born,
Everyone exclaimed, "She's so little!"


Chels looked at me like, 
"I did it?"


YOU DID IT CHELS!


She beat the odds.
First time Mom.
At home.
Natural.


All the normal things they would consider an "emergency"


-6 cms for 6+ hours
-dehydration
-baby showed signs of meconium early in the labor
-mom very fatigued


You did it Chels.  
And not matter how it 
would have turned out - You did it!
21 hours.
GO GIRL.


You have that baby in your arms.
Now you are a Momma Lion.
Now you will fight for someone like never before.
Now you love someone like never before.


Like I told Nic when Sofia was born -


"Now- 
you-
KNOW."

 Auntie Ang and Baby Ivy!

Julien - The Birth Story

It's been over one week.

How is that possible?

In the beginning I thought I was going to loose this baby.

Having lost a baby before (my first)... all the signs were there.

My midwife suggested I run over to the hospital to "test my levels".  Turns out my progesterone was low so she put me on a progesterone creme.  Progesterone, if I remember correctly is the hormone that helps the placenta connect to the uterine wall.  Low levels accounted for the spotting and continued low levels could have meant another miscarriage. I was very upset and prayerful that week and very much relieved when a week or two later my levels registered normal.  I continued to rub the creme into my arms and belly thru month six.  If you are prone to miscarry I highly recommend use of the creme, it can't hurt!

Fast forward through another hard, sick all day, "when will it be over" pregnancy...about 33 weeks.

Last Friday I went to my "cousins" house for the day.  She's got a clubhouse with a nice kid's pool and it was going to be 98 degrees out.  Both husbands thought I was overdoing it, driving there, hauling kids in and out, beach towels, snacks, keeping daredevil, fearless Hoolie above water.  But I told Joel, "You know me, if I stay home I will work."  I had a handful of things left on my pre-birth to-do list.  And so instead of working I spent the day in the company of someone I really enjoy being with, got some wonderful sun and steered clear of kitchen/project duty.  

We got home around 4:30 and I was ready to collapse.  We got some carry out and there was a hair in my cole slaw that I was craving so much.  I thought I was going to breakdown!  I got Juliette to bed at 5:10 and told the "big kids" to go play Legos, that I would come and tuck them in in awhile (we had all skipped our naps) and I promptly passed out.  An hour later they came in my room, exhausted, in tears, "Can we PLEASE go to bed?"  And so, everyone was down by ten after six and of course, I couldn't go back to sleep.  I crashed in front of the computer with my new favorite documentary series, "Victorian Farm."

Joel usually has Saturdays off and Friday night, while I laid around in a sort of awake/coma he called me during his route to say the company was in a bind for the next morning.  If he would take a Saturday a.m. route then they would give him Sunday off.  "Do it!" I said, as we rarely get two days in a row together.  Sunday and the Monday Holiday would be great!

Saturday I woke up and though I had plenty of energy I thought I'd better take it easy.  I went from couch to couch snuggling with each child but around 11:30 I couldn't take it anymore and dove into another project (I was half way thru clearing out my art/wrapping/storage room at the end of the hall, preparing it to be the coziest nursury ever).  What a mess--- bins, garbage bags, photographs, fabric scraps, scrapbooking scraps, I think I saw a scrap of my brain laying on the floor... then I just had this feeling to hit the "ladies room" ...like something might be up down there.  Sure enough, we had action.  I called Joel and said, "I'm giving you the heads up, we are having a baby in the next 24 hours."  I began to put everything back as neatly as I could.  I needed to be able to pull out the hide-a-bed in there for my Mom.  Then I called the kids in, told them the news and we went into what we call, "Team" mode.  We got out the Mom Vac (the AWESOME Shop Vac Joel bought me - it's my new vacuum cleaner and I am obsessed with the fact I can suck up broken glass, food chunks, spilled milk... IT ROCKS!), I gave the kids the mirror spray, they picked up everything off the floor for me, I ran and emptied the dishwasher... we went nuts and within an hour this house was spotless!

When Joel got home we ran to Target for a few more supplies.  That night Joel and I watched a movie, set up the midwife's table with all our birth supplies, I put the shower curtain down under my sheet in case my water broke during the night - we were ready.

I slept terrible.

The plastic, even under my sheet was making me sweat.  It was gross.

I woke up Sunday morning with the familiar gnawing in my throat.  I usually am ill, or at least gag my brains out in the morning when late in my pregnancy.  I get so tired of seeing stars every morning and I laid there dreading the havoc that that violent, morning action made on my body.  I had this feeling that I would go in there, gag and BAM!  my water would break from the pressure.  

That's exactly what happened!

That was around 7 a.m. (Sunday morning)

We called the midwife around 7:30 a.m. or so and she was here about an hour later.  I was not having any contractions before that point and then I had about 4 wussy ones over the next hour.  By that point my Mom had arrived and the house was buzzing.  The kids were so excited!  When I told Amélie my water was breaking she freaked and cried with sheer glee, "THAT MEANS MY BABY BROTHER IS COMING TODAY!"  I was feeling the pressure, not from the baby, just the pressure to perform.  I was snuggling and interacting with the kids, calling out to brush teeth, where to find shoes... you know, Mom duty.  I was so happy that everyone was clean, nails trimmed and hair washed.  Between the clean kids and house I felt settled.  Midwife Debbie suggested my Mom take the kids to the park so my brain and body could focus on shifting into gear.
Great idea.  

At that point in the morning I had been putting off Juliette for her "Morning Milkies".  I have to admit, though I knew what was going to happen over the next few hours, I was a little freaked.  Just to KNOW you are going to go thru that kind of pain.  

Ugh.

I knew her "Milkies" would get things going.  She nursed about five distracted minutes and then left for the park.  I then did a little shot of some black and blue Cohash tincture from Debbie and contractions started about ten minutes later.

This time around my contractions seemed so strange.  They seemed to be all over the place.  Rapidly getting closer together but some were twenty seconds, some were a minute.  They would peak in agony and then just stop... not even tapering off.  Just stopping.  I got pretty frustrated as the pain was intense but they just seemed so weird.  I was feeling a bit of pressure too, like Joel, the Midwife and Nurse (Debbie and Jane) were just waiting for things to kick into high, high gear since my previous two births had been so fast.  (Two and three hours.)  Once I expressed this the nurse and midwife excused themselves to go downstairs so Joel and I could get down to business*.

And we did.  Joel comforting but cracking jokes in between contractions to keep my spirits up...
"You know when I'm down to just my socks that it's business time baby..."

Awhile later I heard myself begin that slight grunting sound at the end of my "relaxing exhales".  I knew that sound.  I wanted to believe I was getting closer.  Debbie and Jane heard it too and came back upstairs.  Now the pain was here in all it's fullness.  And I was so tired from the terrible sleep the night before.  I began to cry.  With each contraction I just broke down and cried, so desperate for it to be over.  Debbie assured me the baby would be here by lunch time but my mind was skeptical, wondering if she was just cheering me on.  I wanted no cheerleading.  I needed it to be over.  Strange thoughts were going thru my mind.  I wondered HOW IN THE WOLRD I had done this three times before.  My first lasting 28 unbelievable hours.  I vividly saw every woman over the millinia that had ever birthed without drugs (no offense to you pain relief girls!) but I saw the slaves in the fields, the Jewish women, whose bodies, in sheer stress went into labor in the box cars, crammed with people.  It was crazy.
I felt for all of us.

Contractions must have been about every 30 seconds to a minute and this point and Joel and I were doing our thing... the way we do.  Rocking.  "Slow dancing."
Poor guy, "Just breathe, just breathe." was all he could seem to get out to encourage me.  During a contraction I snarled, "WOULD YOU STOP SAYING THAT?!!  What the frick do you think I am doing!!!"  and then in the few seconds before the next contractions I began to laugh and so did Joel, then Debbie and Jane.  "Wow.  You've never yelled at me during labor before."

I continued to cry.  Crying that I just wanted to push.  That I loved to push.  At least that is something you can DO instead of just standing or sitting there being racked with pain.

A little more time passed and I decided to let her check me.   I had still had that grunting urge... she didn't want me to push too soon.  Don't they always say that?  She checked, which was horrible and made me break down in sobs again but she said I was almost there.  Within minutes she was telling me to listen to my body and do what it said to do. I could totally tell the babies head was ready to pass thru the cervix... there is no feeling like that.  It's funny, cause I swear Joel and I could deliver on our own (and have!) but there is something so encouraging about the verbal affirmation of my midwife telling me to go for it.

I began to talk to the baby.  "Come on baby.  Come on baby.  Momma wants to hold you."

He must have heard me.

Oh, and then to think that I had WANTED to push.  I laughed out loud and verbally mimicked myself, "I just want to push!"

I grabbed Joel's forearms to prepare for our little dance for the oncoming contraction and that's when my legs said, "We're done!" and began to buckle.  I have never passed out before but I could stand up no more.   I shouted that I was going to faint and Debbie and Jane jumped over to have Joel help me get on the bed.  With the next contraction I pushed with all I had.  I felt the head come, FLYING down and out... then a shoulder...

"Stop!  Stop!"  I heard.

What?

I had to stop my giant push half way.

"Cord!"
said the midwife and for what seemed like an eternity but was probably a second she unlooped the cord from around his neck.  I had paused my push and finished it off without starting all over on another one and "poof".  It was over.  I had been laying on my side and now was on my back with relief and thump suddenly there was a warm mass laying on my chest.  I opened my eyes to see my beautiful baby.  Totally COVERED in thick vernix, whimpering slightly.
It was over.
 I was in love.

As I cried those first moments, hysterical, "It's over"s and "Isn't he beautiful"'s Debbie and Jane seemed quiet and rubbed on him.  They didn't think he was quite pink enough.  Deb just wanted him to cry a bit.  Poor thing came flying out in one shot, I wouldn't have the energy to cry either.  She got her little oxygen tank out and waved the hose blowing oxygen in his face for a minute.  That made him mad and they got the result they were looking for.

There is nothing like pushing out a baby.  It's horrible and AWESOME at the same time, and to have him in my arms.  From in, to out.  Well, no matter how they arrive, it's just a miracle isn't it?

A minute or two later Joel called downstairs for the kids to come up.  That was awesome too.  To present your children with another sibling to love.  What a privilege.

Everything went so well.
Three hours total.  Joel was home, not out driving his truck in Chicago.  It went fast.  The kids were good.  The sun was shining.

Within five minutes of being born Julien James (who was not named until an hour or two later) was surrounded by the people that hold him dearest.  Midwife Debbie said, "Let's sing a song.  Let's sing the Doxology."
My throat began to collapse with the urge to cry.  How could Debbie have ever guessed that the Doxology is such an important song to our family?  My dear, dear Grampa leads us in that vocal prayer before every meal down on the farm, this summer all two hundred guests sang it as the blessing before my sisters wedding dinner... our entire family harmonizes... three and four generations... it's very special to us.
So there we were, me with a wet baby, husband at my side.  Four beautiful blessings from the Lord.  My dear Mom who is my best friend and two women, Debbie and Jane passionate about a woman's moment in time - being delivered of a baby.


"Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly host.
Praise Father,
Son
and
Holy Ghost.


Amen."

(*Not "business" but simply focusing on the contractions and relaxing during them!  I had to add this post script because of my friend A-la-Parisienne's hilarious comment aluding that we actually got down to "business".  TOO FUNNY but unterstandable considering the next original sentence where Joel sings "Business Time" to me by Flight of the Concords.)