Worth the Wait: Nola

My pregnancy with Nola was close to perfect.  Aside from being very sick during the first trimester, I felt great.  I loved my belly, her kicks, the anticipation of our first home birth...

Every morning, the girls would "play" with their sister (who we thought was a brother).  They talked to my belly, poked her little feet, and sometimes pretended to check her heartrate.  Every evening, I'd snuggle with them in their bed, and they'd put their hands on my growing belly as they drifted off to sleep.

I ate well, stayed active (I especially loved prenatal yoga with Kaeli Sutton at the Motion Center), received regular chiropractic care (thanks to the wonderful Kelly Frye), and got as much rest as you'd expect a mom of two little ones to get.  Knowing that life would be busy after the baby arrived, we made a special effort to spend time as a family and do some fun things.  Over the summer, we traveled to Ohio with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, who was also pregnant, and nephews to visit Joel's grandmother and celebrate her 90th (!) birthday.  We went camping in New Hampshire, hosted a Spanish exchange student for a few weeks, and celebrated our anniversary, Aislinn's 4th birthday, and my 24th birthday.  

Towards the end of my pregnancy, my doula friends hosted a beautiful blessingway ceremony for me.  They put flowers in my hair, concocted an herbal foot bath for me, read beautiful birth poems, and created a labor necklace with a bead from each of them.  My dear friend, Lisa Gendron of Agroterra Birth, took pictures of that evening and then, a few weeks later, came to my home and did a maternity photo shoot.  Jessica Fuss, my doula, came over one day just to rub my tired, sore feet, and Emily Howell, my "sister wife/soulmate" had my favorite chai mix shipped to me.  I will never be able to express how beautiful and special these women, among others, made me feel during that time.

I enjoyed my pregnancy so much that I didn't want it to end.  Apparently, Nola didn't either.  As my due date came and went, I began to worry that my dream of a home water birth was going to remain just that--a dream.  I was torn between wanting the baby to come when she was ready and wanting to avoid medical induction and hospital birth.  Finally, at 41 weeks and 6 days, my labor began:

          "On Friday, October 12^th, I woke up and discovered that I’d lost my mucus plug.  I was feeling a little crampy and having some contractions, but they were so mild that Joel and I decided to bring the girls to school and head to the coffee shop for some time together before my labor really got going.  On the way to school, I texted my birth team to let them know that I would need them later that day.  Everyone was very excited (and relieved), since I was 41 weeks 6 days and facing the possibility of needing to move the place of birth to the hospital.

(Side note:  Michelle, one of our midwives, had come to our house for my 42 week appointment the previous day.  We’d discussed natural induction methods, she stripped my membranes, and she encouraged me to do the tiger exercise from Birthing From Within, which I did- that evening, to release any fears that could possibly be holding me back.  She told me I should hold off on any induction attempts for another day or so because she had a feeling I was going to go into labor very soon.)

                Once we were at the coffee shop, I began contracting every few minutes.  They were regular and stronger than what I’d previously been feeling, so I texted Jess to give her the heads up, just in case things started to move quickly.  She called and we chatted a bit about how exciting it was that it was finally happening, what the plan for the day should be, and so on.   Joel and I picked the girls up from school and decided that we would bring them to my parents’ house so that we could go down to the beach for a little while.

 It was a chilly day and the sky looked beautiful.  We walked up and down the beach.  I took pictures of the sky because I knew our baby was on her way and I wanted to remember what the day was like.   I felt so at peace there, as I always do when I’m near the ocean.  Had it been warmer, I would have gone for a swim. By this point, my contractions were few and far between.  I think it was around this time that I told Joel my labor probably wouldn’t really start until 7:30pm, the time at which my other two labors had begun.

  

                After a little while, I got tired of walking, so we went back to the car and drove around.  I had one very strong contraction that took my breath away and reminded me of the hard work I was going to have to do.  I told Joel that it was time to go back and get the girls ready for bed so that we could go home.  I knew that if I wanted to have the baby, I needed privacy and I wanted Aislinn and Raia to be asleep before the real work began.

                Sure enough, at 7:30, I started contracting every 3-4 minutes. They were very intense and I panicked a little.  I kept telling my body to slow down; I wasn’t ready for this.  I spoke with Kristina, Jess, and Lisa and told them that I was really in labor now but that I didn’t need them just yet.  For some reason, Joel and I had thought it would be a good idea to order Chinese food.  I made him wait for the end of a contraction before he left and told him to hurry.  In retrospect, I should have taken this as a sign that I had no business eating Chinese food.  When he returned, we moved down to the basement and I ate crab rangoon and tried to pay attention to Project Runway.  It was not long before I started shaking and the TV annoyed me.  I was nervous and told Joel that I wanted him to call Jess and the others and tell them to come over.  Jess knew that I needed support, and she called me back once she was in the car and reminded me to breathe, that everything was okay, and that we’d be meeting our baby soon.

                Lisa was the first to arrive.  I had moved to the living room and was laboring on the birth ball with the Ben Harper station playing on Pandora in the background.  I was so relieved to see her.  She sat down behind me, rubbed my back, and offered encouragement.  I think Kristina showed up next, and then Jess.  Kristina, who I’d seen for almost every prenatal visit and developed a great relationship with, took my vitals.  Everything looked fine, so she and Joel went upstairs and began filling the pool and getting everything set up.  Jess sat on the couch and held my hand.  My contractions were strong but had spaced out a little, which was a huge relief.  Michelle arrived a bit later and I knew when I saw her that everything was okay.  When she walked in the front door, I looked up and asked her how she had known (that my labor would start that day) and she just replied with a smile.  I was so glad she was there—I’d felt a strong connection to her from the beginning and had really hoped she’d be on call when the time came.

 

                After this, my memory gets a bit blurry. I know that Jess, Joel, and I moved upstairs so that I could lay in bed and try to rest between contractions.  I remember that this position was uncomfortable.  My hips hurt and it was hard to cope while laying down, but during one contraction I felt the baby move down, which was both cool and encouraging.  I wasn’t getting any vaginal exams, so any sign of progress was incredibly important to me.

 At some point, I decided I wanted to get in the shower.  I sat on the birth ball under the water with the music playing (Feist, I think).  I told Joel to go take a nap, and he did.  Jess stayed with me.  My contractions were very far apart and much more manageable sitting on the ball with the water spraying my back.  I stayed there until there was no more hot water.  We woke Joel up, and I sat on the ball in our room for awhile.  Jess and Kristina both felt that I should get up and move around to bring my contractions closer together.  It was just after 2am and I was exhausted, so I resisted but ultimately decided that they were right.

 

I walked around the kitchen and leaned on the counter during contractions, which were coming closer together- about 2 minutes apart.  I was pretty grumpy about it and told Kristina that when she had her baby, I’d be there telling her to get up and move, too.  Lisa and Michelle were resting in the living room when I made my way in there.  I sat on the ball again while Joel held my hands and Jess rubbed my back.  Michelle asked what was holding me back.  I told her I didn’t know.  We all bounced some ideas around, and it felt good to voice some concerns I had: fear of transition and pushing, mostly.  Michelle told me she thought it was time for me to go get in the pool.  I had been waiting for this, because I knew that when they told me to get in the water, it would mean I was getting close to the end.

Joel and I went upstairs and I got in the water.  It felt great.  The room was dark, the water was warm, and my belly cast and birthing necklaces were on the dresser next to the pool.  I was in transition.  It was so intense, and all I kept thinking was “Your contractions cannot be stronger than you, because they are you.” I knew it was time to have my baby, and I let go and let it happen.  Transition took awhile.  I’m fuzzy on the exact time, but I think I probably got in the water around 3:30or 4am.  As my sounds got louder and more “growly,” everyone made their way into the room.  Jess called my mom around 5:30am and asked her to come so that she’d be there when the girls woke up.  I think she arrived at 6am, which was lucky because Raia woke up a few minutes later.  Around the same time, I started pushing.  It felt strange because my bag of water was still intact, but Michelle told me it was okay.  They could see the bag of water bulging after a few minutes.

 

As I was pushing, Kristina monitored the baby’s heart rate and it was too low…far too low.  I got on my left side, then my hands and knees…still too low.  I was terrified.  A million thoughts ran through my head: I need to get this baby out, even if they call 911 it will be too late, maybe a home birth was a bad idea.  I pushed with every ounce of strength I had.  I didn’t understand why it was so difficult and why it was taking so long.  Finally her heart rate stabilized and she began crowning.  Jess yelled to my mom to bring the girls in.  A few pushes later, the baby’s head was out.  I relaxed, thinking that the shoulders would be easy, but I was wrong.  It took a lot of effort on my part and Kristina’s help to get them out.  (Poor Kristina was basically in the pool with me and soaking wet.)  I reached down to catch my baby.  I pulled her up onto my chest and cried with relief when I saw that she was alert and breathing.  I rubbed her back and spoke to her until she cried.  Since we didn’t know what we were having, everyone was anxiously waiting for me to announce the sex.  I held her up and yelled, “It’s another girl!”  Someone asked what her name was.  Joel and I looked at each other and agreed that she was Nola Claire.

 

My placenta detached but was not coming out, and I began bleeding heavily.  They moved me from the pool to my bed.  I just remember seeing blood everywhere and thinking “Oh god, this was my biggest fear and it’s happening.”  I finally delivered the placenta after a shot of Pitocin, but there were some membranes that Michelle and Kristina needed to remove manually.  I was bleeding a lot and I was scared, even after they got it under control.  Michelle gave me some Methergene to help with the bleeding and to make sure that any membranes still in my uterus would find their way out.  Throughout this ordeal, I held and nursed Nola and looked to Lisa and Jess for support.  Aislinn and Raia were taken out of the room so that they wouldn’t see all the blood.  After I was cleaned up, my mom and the girls came back and watched as Nola was weighed.  None of us could believe it when Michelle announced that she was 10lbs 10oz and 21.5 inches!  (No wonder pushing her out was so difficult.)

After everyone else left, Michelle stayed with us to make sure that I was okay, physically and emotionally.  I was exhausted, shaken up, and weak, and I felt much better knowing that she was nearby.  My mom took the girls back to her house so that I could rest.  After Michelle left, Joel, Nola, and I laid in bed together all day.  It was wonderful just holding her and loving her after such a long wait and a difficult labor. 

Over the next two weeks, I made a very slow recovery.  Though I only had a small first degree tear (no stitches), I did injure my pubic bone and needed physical therapy, plus I was physically and emotionally drained.   Luckily, Joel was home with us for several weeks, both of our moms helped out, and doula friends delivered meals.

 

The birth was more difficult than I’d imagined it would be and it had its scary moments, but being at home, surrounded by people who loved and believed in me, was such a gift.  I was so proud of myself for allowing labor to being on its own, for following my body’s natural cues, and for pushing out such a large baby.  My big, sweet Nola was worth it."

Nola is a joy.  She is calm, sweet, and incredibly loved by all of us.  We are so blessed!  Here are some pictures from the blessingway, my maternity shoot, and the birth.  Please check out Lisa's website at http://www.agroterraphotography.com if you're looking for a great photographer.

Doulas at my Birth Blessing

Jess and Paulette 

 

Leah and Emily, during the Maternal Lineage/Birth Bracelet part of the ceremony

My belly the day I went into labor

Labor walk on the beach

Lots of support

Almost time!

Bliss

                    

Losing Control: Raia's Birth

As previously mentioned, the decision to have another baby a mere 6 months after Aislinn was born was totally insane.  I'm still not quite sure where my head was at.  I was a young, unmarried mom and college student who had already been through the "you're ruining your life" ringer once, and here I was doing it again (willingly!). 

When we announced the pregnancy, we pretty much got the reactions you'd expect:  "Oh. Good for you...I guess."  "Are you going to get married now?  You really should, you know."  "You're crazy."  "Don't you know how that happens?" Blah, blah, blah.  I'll admit that even I struggled with conflicting emotions.  Was I taking away from Aislinn by adding a sibling?  Was it fair to her? To the baby?  Would the financial pressure on Joel be too much?  Was I ready to be a mother of two?    

Well, you're never really ready to have a baby, whether you think you are or not, and whether it's your first or your fifth.  Every baby is different, every new addition rocks your world (at least for awhile), and at some point after you become a mother, you realize that you need to relinquish control. For me, that realization didn't really take hold until after Raia was born.  

The pregnancy itself was uneventful, but life was tumultuous.  My dad was hospitalized unexpectedly, Joel took a huge pay cut  and family drama seemed like it was at an all-time high for awhile.  As I approached my due date, my fears grew.  I was nervous about labor (when you have them that close together, you remember what it's like all too well), and I was feeling tremendous guilt about cutting Aislinn's babyhood short.  My emotional hesitation became physical hesitation and I experienced some prodromal labor leading up to the birth.  Thankfully, we had decided to birth in the ABC (Alternative Birthing Center) at the hospital with a midwife this time, so I was "allowed" to let nature take its course.  Here's the full story:

"The night after I was due, I had 12 hours of regular, painful contractions. We arrived at the hospital after 8 hours of laboring at home, but since I was only 3cm they sent me home and said they'd see me in a few hours. We went home, and I laid down on the couch to rest. At some point I fell asleep and when I woke up I was no longer contracting. This was so frustrating...12 hours of "labor" for nothing!

The next day, I had some contractions but nothing consistent. On Wednesday morning, I had an appointment. I was just over 3cm dilated (still), and she stripped my membranes.  About 3 hours later, I started contracting. They were pretty painful, but not regular, so I went about my day as usual. Around 7pm they became more frequent and regular, but after the Monday night ordeal, I wasn't very optimistic. I went to bed at 10pm, but was only able to sleep between contractions because they kept waking me up. Finally at 5am I couldn't take it anymore (they were two minutes apart and pretty painful), so I hopped in the shower while my husband got everything ready to go. At 7:30am this morning, we were admitted to the alternative birthing center at the hospital. I was 5cm. The baby wasn't reacting at all to the contractions, so they had me sit and drink some juice while they monitored me for awhile. Finally she perked up, so they let me get in the tub. I alternated laboring in the tub (wonderful!), on the birthing ball, and walking around the room. 

At 11:30am they checked me and I was only 6cm, so I agreed to let them break my water. Things got intense very quickly. The pain went from tough but manageable to almost unbearable within seconds. I was very vocal during this time, which was a little scary for me because it made me feel out of control.  (Looking back, I now feel that that was what I needed to do in order to get her out.  It was instinctual.) Very shortly after she broke my water, I had my midwife check me and I was 8cm. The next time she checked me I was 9.5. A few contractions later I was finally 10. I'm not sure exactly how long I pushed, but my guess is about 40 minutes. She was in an odd position, so it was slow going at first. I couldn't find a comfortable position to push in, and she was so low that I had a lot of back pain. Finally, though, she made her grand entrance, and once her head and shoulders were out, I reached down, pulled the rest of her out, and held her in my arms for the first time." 

8lbs 13oz and 20.5 in

Getting to know each other

Aislinn meeting "Yaya" (she wasn't able to pronounce Raia. The nickname stuck.)

Baby kisses!

Life with two babies was crazy and chaotic at times, but I maintain to this day that Raia was the greatest gift we could have given Aislinn (and now, of course, the same is true about Nola).  It's incredible to witness the bond form between them and evolve as they grow.

That Time I Had Scurvy: A Birth Story

I am a different person now than I was before I had kids.  I am stronger, more independent, more driven to succeed, and more in love with life.  My world changed in ways I never imagined it would when I gave birth to my first daughter, Aislinn.  This happened again when I had Raia, and then a third time when we welcomed Nola into our family.  Because the arrival of each of our daughters has morphed me into the woman I am today, I'd like to share their birth stories with you.  Each experience was so unique, so beautiful, and so empowering that in order to know who I am, you must first hear the stories of my daughters' beginnings.  

Note: I will be posting their stories separately, and sharing my accounts as I wrote them after each baby was born, not as I remember it now.

Let's backtrack a little to the fall of 2007.  I was a sophomore at Boston University.  After unexplained exhaustion, nausea, and headaches for a few weeks, I began googling my symptoms.  There was only one plausible explanation: I had scurvy.  Clearly I was in the early stages and I needed to binge on vitamin C, STAT!  Joel gently explained that this was nearly impossible;  simply walking past an orange would probably have provided me with enough vitamin C to avoid scurvy. Hmm.  I figured he was right and that I should look for an alternative diagnosis. 

So, I called my doctor, who suggested I take a pregnancy test.  I didn't really believe that was a possibility (I think deep down I was still rooting for scurvy), but early one Sunday morning in November, I decided to pee on a stick, just to rule it out.  Joel and I waited the two minutes in his room, and then crept to the bathroom together to read the results.  Two pink lines.  Crap. 

I always wanted kids, and I even wanted to have kids young, just not THAT young.  We were both overwhelmed with lots of emotions.  Things were complicated during this time, and although  I could write a novel about everything that went on, I won't.  Suffice it to say that we received a mixed bag in terms of support.  Anyway, I finished the school year at BU, grew a big, healthy baby (whose sex was unknown, but I would have bet my life that I was having a boy), moved into an adorable one bedroom apartment with Joel at 6 months pregnant, and then waited for her to arrive.  Here is my recollection of that day:

At around 7:30pm three days prior to my due date, I began having contractions and back pain.  The contractions were 5 minutes apart right away, and I wasn't able to get comfortable, so my husband and I went for a walk. While we were out, the contractions became stronger and closer together, and we decided it would be best to go to the hospital.  After calling the doctor, we packed up the car and left.  I was excited, but I wasn't sure if it was "the real thing"- we even stopped to return a movie on the way there!

Once we got to the hospital, we checked into Triage and were ushered into a tiny room.  Within minutes I was hooked up to the monitor so they could see how often I was contracting and keep an eye on the baby's heartrate.  The contractions were very strong and regular, but when they did an internal exam they found I was only 3cm dilated.  In order to be admitted and moved upstairs to Labor and Delivery, you must be 4cm, so they stretched me from 3 to 4.

About an hour after I was admitted, the on-call doctor came in to check me.  I was still at 4cm, and she gave me two options: get the epidural and sleep through the night, or let her break my water in the hopes that my labor would progress more quickly.  Since I was hoping to have a natural birth, I chose the latter.  My contractions did become more intense, so I sat in the shower and let the warm water run over my back.  Most of the pain I was feeling was in my lower back because the baby was in the posterior position (with the back of her head pressing on my sacrum), so warm water, counterpressure, and changing positions helped a great deal. 

I was only 5cm dilated when the doctor came in to check me again, so she started a pitocin drip.  Over the next several hours, they kept increasing the dose. By this point, I was confined to the bed so they could monitor the baby, and my contractions and back labor were very intense.  I was exhausted, and asked for something for the pain.  They gave me one shot of Stadol- a narcotic used to take the edge off.  Unfortunately, it did not work.  I was still able to feel everything, but I could not keep my eyes open.  Luckily, it wore off after an hour and I continued to labor naturally as before.  

Finally, after 17.5 hours of labor, I started to feel pressure and knew it was time to push.  On the first push, the baby turned so that she was no longer "sunny side up."  Thirty-four minutes later, Aislinn Hayes Henry entered the world.  

Welcome to the world! (Holy crap, you're a GIRL!)

8lbs 10oz and 20in

Love at first sight

Hey, I just met you...and this is crazy...but you're my mama...so nurse me maybe?

Snuggling with Daddy.  

(The dates on these pictures are incorrect.  She was born on July 20, 2008.)

Beautiful. Love. Awe. I couldn't believe that Joel and I had created such a perfect little being, and that I had pushed her out of my body!  My "birth high" lasted for weeks.  It was at that point that I threw out any ideas I had about being a writer because I knew that I wanted to pursue a birth-related career.  But more about that later... 

It's All Relative

Ever since I had Nola, I've been ruminating on how different it is, parenting the third time around.  When you have your first child, it's a HUGE adjustment.  Your world is turned upside down by this tiny person, you're overwhelmed by how much you can love another human being, you don't sleep (either because the newbie won't let you or because you just can't stop staring at that sweet face), and you're worried that you'll somehow screw it up--which you will (at least a little), but life will go on...only you don't know that yet.

Then baby #2 comes along.  This usually happens when baby #1 is two or more years old, unless you're insane like us.  (Those people probably aren't reading this blog, though, because they're too busy changing diapers and/or crying.)  Again, there's an adjustment period.  You have to learn the balancing act of caring for two kids.  Any guilt you had about adding another child to your family dissipates as you watch your babies bond.  Life is good.

And then comes numero tres.  Let's just say that things are more lax with the third child.  

My first baby took a bath every. single. day.  My third baby never gets dirty. She bathes...occasionally. 

My first baby wore really, really cute outfits.  My third baby wears pajamas 99% of the time.  If it's one piece and doesn't require socks, it's a winner.  Convenience>cute.

My first baby took regular naps.  My third baby has not had a single uninterrupted nap since her birth.  Someone is always kissing or poking her.                                                                     

My first baby began her solid food experience with rice cereal.  My third baby was forced to sample a piece of her sister's toenail. True story.                                                                                             

My first baby was an overachiever.  Okay, not really. She was just my only babe, so we spent a lot of time working on rolling over, sitting, crawling, learning sign language, memorizing the periodic table, etc.  My third baby has mastered the art of...nursing?  Being worn?                                                                                              

My first baby was never sat on or loved too aggressively.  My third baby is often mistaken for a pillow or plaything by her siblings.

My first baby was constantly being blinded from the flash of my camera.  My third baby will someday wonder if she was adopted when she realizes there is little documentation of her early years. 

And so on, and so forth.  I'd imagine by the time you get to baby #4, any ideas you had about being a mom prior to having children have totally gone out the window.  There's a learning curve to this parenting thing.  As soon as you think you've got it figured out, something changes and you have to readjust.  It's a challenge, but it's also part of the beauty of motherhood.  There are no rules.  Nothing is set in stone.  We're all just doing the best we can with what we know, regardless of whether we're parenting our first child or our sixth child.  It's all relative.

Have any good "first vs. subsequent child" stories? Feel free to share in the comments section. I'd love to hear them!

Here Goes Nothing

Three babies, check.  Husband, check. Bachelor's degree, doula certification, check.  Help launch a research study, apply to grad school? Yup, done.  This is my life.  It's beautiful, chaotic, and I'm incredibly blessed...but sometimes (always), I wonder if I'll ever be able to live up to the impossible standards that society has for us modern mamas.  The answer, of course, is no.

Cue Quarter Life Crisis.  My days consist of getting up with the kids, getting them to school, cleaning the house, doing laundry, chanting the phrase "use your words" over and over with no results, breastfeeding, and so on.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  It's exhausting, boring, and not very fulfilling.  I love my daughters more than words can express, and I know how lucky I am to be a mom, but I feel like I'm running in place.  I work all day, every day, and I have little to show for my efforts.  The house will never be clean enough, the kids will never be well-behaved enough, and I'll always feel guilty about something.  If I'm cleaning, I feel like I should be playing with the girls.  If I'm playing, I feel like I should be doing something productive. You get the idea.

I can't remember a time that I wasn't working towards a particular goal, be it trying to earn straight A's, get into college, or finish a degree or certification.  At the moment, I'm in limbo.  My research study gig is up, and I'm still waiting to hear whether or not I've been accepted into the 2013 GEPN program at Yale.  Aside from the pressure I put on myself to always be "achieving," social media adds to the inadequacy that I (and many other moms) feel on a daily basis.  It's no longer enough to "just be a mom."  You also have to have the perfect house, cook Pinterest dinners, do fun crafts with the kids, have a successful career...and look good doing it.

I recognize that this is impossible, and yet, I struggle with the fact that I just don't measure up.  Enter "Raising Hell."  Here, I will write honestly about my joys, accomplishments, frustrations, and failures.  I will share funny stories about my kids (and maybe my husband), and I will get through this Quarter Life Crisis, dammit!

A little humor to close (thanks Jenny Gruslin!): Unworthy