******C Me N4k3d N0w!******

Warning: This post contains semi-graphic images. Proceed with caution.

When I found out I was pregnant with Max, I immediately sought out the best OB/GYN my state health insurance could buy. That's a lot easier in Oregon than it is elsewhere, Oregon is basically a socialist state and almost everyone utilizes the excellent public health coverage. As a result I was able to sign on with the head of Obstetrics at the hospital of my choice.

As we discussed my various options, Brad actually had the gall to suggest that I get a midwife instead and have a water birth.

"You know what a water birth is?" I laughed maniacally, "It's being in the same agony you'd be in otherwise, only wet. Give me an epidural or give me death!"

Of course I realized that I wasn't speaking from experience, but neither was Brad. There's no way I was going to stick my nose up at the best anesthesia the public's tax money could buy. I'm a firm believer in the whole "God helps those who helps themselves" thing, and the way I saw it, if God was going to offer me the miracle of a pain free childbirth, I sure as heck was going to take it.

And then of course I went on this mental tangent about the Garden of Eden and the apple and all that, and how painful childbirth was supposed to be a woman's curse, so why would God change his mind and give us anesthesia? Was it an Old Testament / New Testament thing, that famous double standard of the Bible?

At work I'd surf the boards on BabyCenter and join in the mockery of those wanting natural birth. What, you think you're going to get an award for being in more pain than me and surviving? Good luck with that!

The labor turned out to be worse than I could have possibly imagined. From first contraction to last push, I was in labor for 72 hours. They didn't admit me at the hospital until day two because my contractions never became regular. I'd spent 36 hours walking in circles around my living room, panting like a dog, unable to eat or drink or even sit. They finally took pity on me, took me in and broke my water.

Me, pre-epidural, doing my walking-around-in-circles-and-panting thing:


And Brad, pretty much the whole time, except when he was discussing politics and taxes with the staff, at which time he would sit up a little.




It took a long time to get my epidural because I simply couldn't speak to ask for one. I about exploded with relief when the OB came in after I'd been there about 12 hours and told me that either I'd have to get an epidural so I could rest, or he'd have to do a C-section. They were concerned that as I'd had no rest or sustenence I wouldn't have the strength the push the baby out, and my contractions still were not regular. I nodded vigorously each time he said "epidural," and he got the message.

The epidural was wonderful. I felt like a loaf of freshly baked bread, and was finally able to lay down and sleep and allow my breathing to return to normal. After letting me sleep for a few hours, they woke me up and told me it was time to push. It was about 6:00 PM on May 23. Cool I thought, I'll have the baby within the hour! The OB asked me to sit up and push. I sat up and pushed, I even said "grrrr!" so the staff would know I was really trying.

They exchanged glances. "Um, no, you really need to push."

"I am pushing!" I leaned forward. "Grrrrr!"

The OB rolled his eyes and took his gloves off. "We're going to have to remove the epidural," he said, "she can't feel her own muscles. Start the Pitocin, I'll check back in a few minutes." And he walked out. It was like finding out the Lotto ticket I'd thrown away had been a jackpot.

A nurse shoved some ice chips at me. WTF is the deal with all the freaking ice chips???

A few hours later, I could feel everything, and not in a good way. Max was sunny-side up, so the doctor had to use forceps. He came out at exactly midnight between the 23rd and the 24th.


See? Told you I had chicken legs.

The birth was very hard on my body. I wanted desperately to go home, but couldn't walk by myself. I was also having breastfeeding issues. The staff was wonderful, the room was wonderful, the food was even wonderful. But somehow I knew that something had gone wrong. That if someone had been better informed (myself?), it would have been a very different birth. I rode home on a donut pillow, and three months later we were in Florida.

When I got pregnant with Jessamine, who was due July 27, 2005, I went about things differently. Even if I wanted an OB and a hospital birth I couldn't have afforded it; the health care system in Florida is not what it is in Oregon. I had joined a great moms' group, and many of them recommended a certain midwife. There were eleven of us pregnant at the same time, and seven of us used the same midwife.

I found myself being talked into a water birth. I still was unsure of how it could possibly be beneficial, but several moms told me of their own water birth experiences and what a huge difference it made. I couldn't afford an epidural this time around, so I figured I'd take whatever I could get.

It was during my pregnancy with Jessamine that I began to develop breathing exercises to help me cope with my anxiety problem. Little did I know how important this would be. In fact, I only found out the true value of this a couple weeks ago.

Jessamine's birth went very differently. I started having contractions early in the afternoon of August 6. They were regular. I didn't walk in circles or pant, I started doing my breathing exercises, made sure our birth supplies were in readiness, made phone calls, and took care of Max.

When the contractions became five minutes apart, I called the midwife. She told me to get in the shower to see if that would slow them down, and to call her when they were three minutes apart, and she'd begin filling the tub.

Ten minutes later I had to step out of the shower and let her know the contractions were now three minutes apart. We got in the car and started to head to her place in Clearwater, and along the way they became two minutes apart. We arrived at about 10:00 PM.

I spent the next two hours leaning against walls and such. It hurt, sure, but not nearly as much as it had hurt with Max. I breathed deeply, drank Gatorade, and ate Taco Bell. With Fire Sauce!

The midwife asked me to let her know when I thought I might be going into transition, said I would know when I felt it. Five minutes later I went into transition.

I got into the tub, which was full just in the nick of time. As soon as I stepped into the water, the relief was instant. I felt no pain, and was able to relax completely between contractions, joke around, and eat. Of course the contractions and pushing hurt, I'm not going to lie to you, but the pain wasn't even half what it was with Max. In about twenty minutes, just after 1:00 AM, I pushed Jessamine out.


Does Brad take great birth pictures or what? I know her fingers look weird, don't worry, it's just water distortion.

I was able to walk and go to the bathroom by myself. I did not need a donut pillow. Jessamine was alert and nursed immediately, then laid down for a nap with her brother so I could get some rest myself. We went home around dawn, and I was able to pick right up and go about my daily routine, albeit with the demands of a new baby added on.

Now that we're expecting our third baby, the thought of doing anything other than a home water birth is terrifying to me. I've had it both ways, and I've seen the light.

I also now recognize the vast importance of my own choices and actions throughout pregnancy and labor. Exercise makes a big difference. It's a lot easier to push a baby out when you've got the muscle tone to do it with. Exploring all options without letting my own preconceptions get in the way was a biggie.

Most important of all, I now know, was my breathing. One of the midwives we interviewed this go-around is a Hypnobirth therapist. When I described the way I was breathing when I was in labor with Max, she explained to me that by breathing that way, I was depriving my uterus of the oxygen it needed to perform. It was my own fault that my contractions never got regular and were ineffective. With Jessamine I had learned to breathe properly, my uterus got everything it needed, and was able to work the way it was meant to. If I had known that when I was in labor with Max, even though it was a medicated hospital birth, I think it would have made all the difference in the world.

I now consider myself to be something of a home / water birth advocate, but I won't preach at you. I think it's important for people of both the medical and the natural persuasions to be open to all possibilities and not just allow themselves to be shuttled along the assembly line like the donuts at the local Krispy Kreme. We aren't donuts (good thing, or I would have eaten myself long ago), we are individuals with brains, and we are expected to use them.

If you made it all the way to the end of this very long post, congratulations! Sorry if I ran on for too long, but as the great John Mayer once said -and continues to say at least 20 times a day on my local mix station- it's better to say too much than never to say what you mean to say.

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