Mental Meanderings

Treinta y cuatro

I celebrated a birthday earlier this week. I was amazed at how even-keeled it felt to celebrate what has become for me a highly ambivalent yearly event. No matter how pleasant a day it is or how great the gifts I receive are, it always comes back to loss for me. It hasn't always felt that way. Since reconnecting with my birth parents, it's been particularly hard to revel in the remembrance of a day that symbolizes a break, a rupturing, a severing. This year was different, though. Having Xavier in my life has fulfilled something pretty profound inside of me. Because of the role I play in his life, my  perspective on my own life has radically shifted. Having been born, being alive and being his mom have become central to my identity and the role I play in this world. It doesn't hurt that we share a birthday month, even though he's a twin and I'm a crab. :-) So, all things birth-related are very much in the forefront of my mind. Cherishing the connection he and I share has been a healing and fulfilling process, allowing me to mourn and then move away from my own stuff and just focus on being the best mom I can be to him. This month is all about Xavier. We decided to stay put in Brooklyn, instead of traveling and being on the road. I'm excited to enjoy our staycation and get to know our home borough even better. So far this month, highlights have included...

• a trip to the Brooklyn Children's Museum - This was how I chose to celebrate my birthday with C and X this year. The museum is a wonderfully kid-friendly space. Xavier had an incredible time exploring and strutting his stuff. In the evening we had a relaxed dinner at Miriam, an Israeli place right around the corner. It was a little late for X to be out, and when he started to get bored and insisted on leaving his high chair, restaurant owner Raffi came and scooped him up and whisked X off for a private tour of the kitchen--along with gratis fresh falafel. I guess Xavier is going to be one of those VIPs that will be good to know 'cause he will have special access to all kinds of cool places. Good thing we're related!
• treating myself to some nunu chocolates, dying and going to heaven each time I eat one!
• family jogs in Prospect Park at dusk - One time we got caught in a rain storm and after deciding to stick it out, were rewarded when the sun broke through the clouds and created a rainbow in the early evening sky.
• savoring our share of the Park Slope CSA, featuring veggies, fruits, flowers and now bread from Hot Bread Kitchen! (check this video out) This week X and I picked up some crispy cucumbers, a couple of kohlrabi, leafy kale and chard, and two quarts of succulent cherries. Can't wait to be inspired to cook with and munch on all this goodness!!
• visits to all the playgrounds in the vicinity, including the Garfield Tot Lot in Prospect Park today with our friends Laura and baby Sol

Tomorrow may include our first visit to a neighborhood toddler pool with baby friend Arlo and his mom, Kristen. I'll definitely keep you posted!

Almost here

One week away from the official start of summer vacation, I am slowly and certainly sinking into the quiet. That's really all I yearn for right now. A little space in which to finally hear myself think. This school year has been a tremendous challenge and adventure. A year into mommyhood, I am convinced that being a parent is the most difficult job any person could take on. And yet, my bond with Xavier has been a healing balm at the end of each work day that has gotten me through.
Earlier this week I participated in a training workshop for diversity professionals. It was a stretch to get my thoughts together directly after writing end-of-year reports for my 10th graders. One thing after the other rendered me spent, and yet the experience of working with like-minded but uniquely talented colleagues was an incredibly gratifying experience. To work within a truly collaborative and non-competitive environment was the perfect end to my work year, and helped me connect with other folks who are invested in similar work. I never tire of comforting reminders that I am far from alone. Sometimes it's easy to forget that.
The rain has persevered this week, making for two wet commutes to and from school today. I have tried to imagine that the rain is a refreshing and cleansing force that is replenishing all the green and making for a lush and colorful summer palette. I actually don't mind rain all that much. After living through the rainy season in Costa Rica, rain no longer brings me down. But the cool temperatures are certainly reminiscent of early fall or spring. Hard to believe my birthday is right around the corner.
I came home today, threw Xavier on my back into the Ergo, and we headed off down 5th avenue to Union St. to pick up the first CSA share of the season. I was overjoyed to find tubs brimming with  generous bunches of beautiful purplish-green kale, crisp chard, enormous bunches of bok choy, slender and colorful radishes, jewel-toned kohlrabi in purple or green, and one of my favorite early season offerings, garlic scapes. A lovely bouquet of bright yellow and orange flowers, as well as two cartons of plump strawberries rounded out the bounty. Xavier charmed other CSA members as I loaded up my bags. He is such a people person.
After some good mommy time, a bath, the nightly nursing and bedtime, I sorted through my newly acquired collection of fresh treasures and organized everything in the refrigerator. I then whipped up a batch of garlic scape pesto, with walnuts, olive oil, freshly grated parmiggiano and a little salt and freshly ground pepper. Given that I have yet to find a food that doesn't taste divine after being sauteed in olive oil with a little salt and pepper, I chopped up the remaining purple kale that I bought earlier this week at the health food store and threw it in a pan to cook up.
Some al dente fusilli pasta was the perfect match for my pesto, and I added some flavor by mixing it up with some freshly cut plum tomato that had been marinating in a little oil/salt/pepper. When I sat down to savor all the delicious spring flavors, I felt for the first time in months that I would finally have a chance to relax. With each bite of my dinner, I felt grateful for the food we are able to enjoy, and the time I get to spend with my family. Five weeks of freedom are almost here. I can't wait.

Mothering my son

I haven't written much lately. I've been too all-consumed by mothering. And so far it's nothing I could have accurately conjured up in my imagination, even during those final waiting days before X's arrival. Or while those initial days and weeks of parenting were crashing over my head like summer waves on the coast of Maine. (You'll understand why I chose this comparison if you've experienced them.) Mothering is an adventure, a trial, an utter joy. Even in my darkest moments, when I am completely sacked after a night of intermittent stints of groggy sleep and feeding the little man, I am aware of how fortunate I am. Xavier is a blessing. The sound of his laughter is the most ecstatic thing I have ever experienced. He is a sweet and sociable baby who doles out his smile willingly and with forthright generosity that I only hope will remain as he ages. Being his mom is by far the most important role I could play. Judging from the way he looks at me when I enter the room, I think he might feel similarly. Lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky me.

Falling

Each day I spend with my son teaches me that I had no way of preparing for the kind of love I feel for him. I fall in love all over again every time he coos, or smiles, or even when he cries and I know how to make it better. Babies--or at least this baby--are actually pretty straightforward.

This is the best. And it really does just keep getting better.

X marks the spot

Xavier Vincent North was born at home on Sunday, June 8th at 3:00pm.
He weighed 9 lbs and measured 21 inches.
He is the best thing that has ever happened to us.

 

Welcome to the world!

Nearly three weeks later, I am finally finding some time to share my birth story.

We had a prenatal appointment with our mw on June 6th, about 10 days post dates, and I was beginning to wonder if we'd get to the 42-week point the following Tuesday. Because I was planning a home birth, my midwife was incredibly relaxed about dates, so I felt no pressure--only my own frustration with waiting, and anxiousness to finally meet this baby! As irony would have it, I woke up early the next morning, and when I went to the bathroom realized I was spotting a bit and beginning to feel a little crampy. I went back to bed and announced to Christopher, "I think the baby is coming!"

I tried to sleep some more because I hadn't started to feel contractions yet, and wanted to rest up as much as possible. The rest of the day was kind of a blur as I was basically just trying to get the house and myself ready for what was coming. At one point I decided to try using the TENS unit I had gotten from my chiropractor to see how effective it was. It was definitely a good distraction as the contractions became more evident, so I was glad to have it.

It happened to be an un-seasonally hot day here in Brooklyn (93F), so we had the a/c cranked and I was trying to stay cool, but was feeling a bit pent-up, so we went for a walk around the block in the late afternoon. By now I was feeling contractions about once every 15 minutes, and they were strong enough that I couldn't walk, but not so strong that I couldn't recover fully afterwards. When we came back to the apartment, I tried to eat a little to keep my strength up. I didn't have much of an appetite, but started to drink Gatorade to make sure I was staying hydrated. We then started watching a DVD of Radiohead videos to try and keep my mind off the contractions. At this point I was using the exercise ball and trying to find a good position. Sitting on it felt awful, so I knelt in front of it and just leaned forward onto it. (It's funny how you can have a whole list of strategies ready to implement...and then when labor comes, half of them seem entirely useless or uncomfortable!) This was also when we decided it was time to fill up the birthing tub, so Christopher started on that (he had become an expert in the weeks leading up to the big day!)

Christopher also called Kristen, our midwife and Sheila, our doula to let them know where things were at. Around 8:00, Sheila came over to check on things, but ended up leaving because I was still kind of chatty, signifying that I was not in active labor yet. She encouraged both of us to try and get some sleep, which I tried to do, but didn't like lying down or being in bed. A couple hours later, things were getting stronger, and I found that the only way to get through a contraction was to stand and squat slightly with my legs apart and sway from one hip to the other, focusing on my breathing and vocalizing through the wave.

C kept calling our midwife and doula to keep them posted. Around midnight, things began to feel pretty intense, and I wanted to get in the birthing tub. At this point, it was also clear that I was having a lot of pain in my back during contractions, so I was asking C to do counter pressure to my back every time I felt one coming on. It never occurred to me that I was having "back labor" because leading up to labor the baby had never seemed to be in a posterior position (that I was aware of), and I just thought that this was how contractions were supposed to feel. Kristen gave C the go-ahead over the phone for me to get in the tub, and then said that she would come over. C also called Sheila again, and she said she'd be on her way as well.

I was expecting the tub to alleviate a lot of the pain, but because of my back, it didn't do much, and I was disappointed and frustrated by that. I love water, and so wanted to labor in the tub (sometimes referred to as "the home birther's epidural"...yeah, not quite), but after hours of being in there, things were not moving forward. At one point, Kristen said that she needed to do an internal exam to see what was going on. I was not thrilled to hear that...and even less thrilled when she needed to do it during a contraction. That took things to another layer of intensity, and I began to wonder how I was going to get through this.

She learned that I was not fully dilated and said that either she could help me (by doing more of that painful stuff she was doing!), or I could keep helping my body do what it was trying to do. I told her I was scared to let her help me, but I wasn't sure if my body could do what it needed to. She never doubted me. I think it was just an issue of timing, 'cause my body was moving pretty slowly. (Later on after she and I debriefed, I learned that I was dilated at 7cm for six hours...!) At this point, we decided that I needed to get out of the tub and move to the bed and get on all fours.

I was on the bed for awhile before Kristen suggested I move to the toilet. My contractions had slowed down a bit, so she told me we needed to do nipple stimulation to get things going...ugh. Things didn't move very quickly in the bathroom either, and I was less than thrilled with trying to bring on more contractions. So it was back to the bed on all fours, and then squatting next to the bed.

Again...so much of this was a blur. Time moved at a glacial pace, it seemed. But it was around this time I started saying that I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't know how I was going to get through it. I felt exhausted and depleted, Sheila kept thrusting a straw in my face to keep me hydrated, but I kept throwing it up because of everything my body was going through. Somehow while all this was going on I kept reminding myself that this was the birth I had chosen, and I was getting the birth that I wanted.

The last three hours were all about pushing. I know some women feel relief from pushing. I, unfortunately, did not turn out to be one of those women. Pushing alone was scary and painful. Pushing during a contraction felt like insanity. C kept cheering me on, telling me I was doing great, and reminding me that soon I would meet my baby. At one point I looked at him like he was crazy. "What do you mean, baby? What baby?" I was completely lost in the process, and couldn't grab onto the reason I was going through this in the first place.

When my sweet boy finally made his way down and began to crown, I turned a corner. I had felt like my pushing was a waste of time, like I was going nowhere fast...until Kristen told me to reach down while I was in the squatting position and feel the baby's head. At that moment I decided I would only endure two or three contractions, and was determined to get this baby out. And I did. I pushed with all my might, with the last strains of energy I could muster...and out he came.

Kristen immediately told me to reach down and take my baby, and I did, and it was the most beautiful moment of my life. I held him close (although we didn't know it was a "he" yet!) and just reveled in his smell and how he felt against my skin, and his sweet little eyes looking up at me. He was so alert and ready for the world. We stayed like that for nearly 45min before cutting the cord. I started having another contraction, and told Kristen I was afraid to deliver the placenta and push again. Luckily the placenta doesn't have a big head.

We soon learned one of the contributing factors to why labor had been so difficult: Xavier was 9lbs and his head was 14.5cm. We were not anticipating such a big baby, but given that he was nearly two weeks post dates, it makes a lot of sense.

So there you have it. I still can't believe we all went through that. It was without a doubt the hardest thing I have ever been through. And now I love this little person more than I could have ever imagined.

When points converge

I woke up this morning feeling a bit down. The waiting game is tough, especially because I'm just so darn excited to meet this little person. That, and the fact that puffy feet, sore joints and carpal tunnel syndrome have me feeling, ironically, like a 90-yr old woman--especially first thing out of bed, which happens periodically over the course of the night, after my ritualistic afternoon nap, and any other times following a lengthy period of relative inactivity. But this whole idea of "your due date" has really messed with my head, making me feel somehow like I'm missing out on an experience that should have already taken place. Like the baby is holding out on us. Ha. Pretty crazy notion, ain't it?!

So, as I have frequently done over the course of this pregnancy, I reached for one of the books that has lived on my nightstand and helped me 'keep it real' on numerous occasions. This time, the one that seemed most fitting was Henci Goer's The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth. I flipped past the chapters on The Cesarean Epidemic, The Full-Term Breech Baby, and landed squarely in Chapter 3: Induction of Labor: Mother Nature Knows Best. I think one of the factors that has contributed to my self-doubt, and wondering if everything is as it should be is an awareness that at 41 weeks, under the care of many OB/GYNs the discussion of induction may already have been placed on the table. My midwife is, on the other hand, super laid-back, and has only approached things through a lens of normalcy. So why haven't I been able to follow her lead?

Henci Goer helped set me straight in my doubting hour, citing the following. In her section on Overdue Pregnancy she reminds us that "A better term than overdue would be the medically correct postdates. 'Overdue' implies that going past your due date is a problem, rather like overbaking a cake. On the contrary, inducing for exceeding your due date is a textbook case of how mainstream obstetric care keeps narrowing the definition of normal until practically no one fits, which then creates the 'need' for intervention."

She then goes on to explain the problem with due dates (also click here) themselves. "You may be surprised to learn that the conventional forty-week pregnancy length is completely arbitrary. It was established by Franz Karl Naegele, a German obstetrician in the early 1800s. He simply declared that a pregnancy should last ten moon months, that is, ten months of four weeks each. However, when researchers in a 1990 study followed a group of healthy, white women, they discovered that pregnancy in first-time mothers averaged eight days longer than this, and the average was three days longer in women with prior births."

I was chuckling while reading this, realizing that all along I have felt in my gut that the process of birth is one that should be left alone to take its natural course (unless a problem arises), and just needed someone else to point that out to me. The fact that this notion is grounded in evidence-based research only provides further reassurance. So, baby, I'm letting you decide when the time is right. Until then, no pressure. I'll just sit back (or, rather, stay as active as possible to ease the process!) and let you run the show.

**Can we all find some irony in the fact that when I came to my blog website today, I noticed that the Baby North ticker on the right sidebar had reached 41 weeks, and the floating baby had thus disappeared altogether from the cyber-womb. Interesting that in the vast ticker universe, even a 41-week pregnancy is unfathomable...ugh.**

Lady in waiting

Okay, baby. I know you're not technically late. You still have roughly a week and a half before we'd have to call in the labor police (ugh), but ya know, it would be so nice if you started making your way out here in the near future.
Today's a rainy day, one of those stay in bed and read a book days, so I don't blame you for hunkering down where it's safe and warm for another 12 or so hours. But the forecast for tomorrow is lovely, and wouldn't it be so nice to see the sun during your first hours in the big bright world?!
I know you've been getting lots of little bear hugs, i.e., Braxton-Hicks contractions, in there over the past week, so I know that both of us are getting ready for your big debut. It doesn't seem to put much of a damper on your fun, though, 'cause you're still pretty squirmy, which I love. I'm gonna miss your constant reminders that you're here, you're full of life and lovin' it inside. But I cannot wait to see you and to hold you in my arms. Any day now would be just fine with me.
So when you're ready, just know that I'm ready and waiting, and so excited to meet you. I know you'll show up exactly at the right time.

New addition

We have a new addition to the North family household. I know, you're thinking, "WOW! You had the baby already?" But no. That part still lies ahead. This, ladies and gentleman, is perhaps a close second on the scale of big excitement for small apartment dwellers. Our place isn't that small, but having a washer/dryer combo that we can use in the privacy of our home without needing to use quarters, losing  socks,  or subjecting our clothing to the cruelties of those big scorching industrial monster machines is just too darn exciting not to share with all of you good folks. So I continue to enjoy my maternity leave by delighting in mundane tasks like washing baby clothes and towels in extra gentle detergent. It's absolutely thrilling...even if the dryer function does take nearly 3 hours. Cheap thrills, people. Cheap thrills.

Begin the begin

When I was in 7th grade one of my favorite R.E.M. albums was Life's Rich Pageant. The first track, "Begin the Begin," was explosive and catchy, a perfect way to open an album, I thought--never mind that the title is a play on Cole Porter's far better known, "Begin the Beguine," itself a play on words. Oh, Cole Porter, how clever you are. As a seventh grader, though, I couldn't have cared less about Mr. Porter (no offense); it was R.E.M. that spoke to me. Or sang, rather.

With my due date exactly seven days away, I find myself thinking a lot about beginning the beginning of the rest of my life as a person with a child, a mom, a parent, a breeder. It's exciting and scary and everything else I've felt since finding out nearly nine months ago that I had a tiny little person growing inside of me. I've already secured my membership in the pregnancy club. Next step is the labor club, which in my imagination is far more abstract and intimidating. Given that my maternity leave from work began today, my membership in the labor club is pretty much all I think about these days.

Having chosen home birth as the setting in which we would like to welcome this baby into our lives, getting the apartment ready for the next phase has been number one on my priority list. It's actually not been all that arduous, given that birthing at home is about being surrounded by the familiar context of your every day world. The only major addition we've made over the past week has been our birthing tub rental, a fairly obtrusive structure that I gaze at adoringly throughout the day. We've already done a couple of practice runs to fine tune the whole dance with the garden hose, faucet adapter, and appropriately timing a limited supply of hot water. The first run produced a half-full tub of 90 degree water that was comfortable, but a little on the cool side. The second time through we were successful in maintaining a temp that hovered between 95 and 100 degrees and was HEAVENLY. Submerging my big belly in warm water calmed me, calmed the baby (who has taken to jumping around in there--especially during the evenings) and basically reminded me how much I've missed having a sufficiently-sized bath tub since calling NYC my home. In spite of all the unknowns about labor--what it will feel like, how long it will last, how I'm going to deal, etc., I am 100% confident that the birthing tub will play a central role in helping me through this maternal rite of passage.

I've limited my reading material these days to books that are home birth-friendly, trying to bolster my choices with the opinions of like-minded folks who, unlike a handful of MDs (formerly) in my life who have openly expressed discomfort and unease with my plans, understand why one would choose to birth in a non-medical setting. Some of my favorite passages have helped me feel connected to a larger community of understanding home birthers. This one from Birthing From Within, in which a previously skeptical expectant father expresses his change of heart, is particularly rich:

'Having a home birth was initially Pat's idea, and I was solidly against it. I looked at the situation and thought, "There's all this technology in the hospital. There are are all these highly trained professionals at the hospital. Other people are having babies in the hospital. It only makes sense that we have our child at the hospital.

Then Pat got me thinking and reading about birth. I got to thinking. "It's almost as if you're not having a baby at the hospital--they are waging some kind of war at the hospital." They have all of these sophisticated weapons and trained people over there, and if you know anything about war, when one side has weapons there's a tendency to use them and there's gonna be problems.

I don't think people in hospitals are bad people at all, in fact they have very good intentions. But their instruments sometimes get in the way instead of helping, and their attitudes get in the way too.'

Amen, Tom.