Life in Fast Forward

Frank's a Kindergartener

2011-09-12T18:48:00.003-05:00

Well, it's happened. Frank has gone off to kindergarten. Can you believe that? We got ready a few weeks ago by making his kindergarten chain to count down the days until his first day of school.

As you can see, this mama's lost some of her mojo, 'cause I didn't get around to helping him with his chain as early as I did with his sister. Let's just hope Walter even gets one.

I could write about all the swirl of emotions I felt as I walked Frank out to the bus stop. I will focus on just one, though: pride. I was so proud of Frank for living up to all my hopes for his maturity and readiness for kindergarten. He outscored all the screening tests, adjusted well to his Montessori preschool this summer, and walked onto the bus like it was nothing.

And then there was Bel. She was such a supportive, loving older sister that I about burst the ruffles on my work shirt I was so proud. Andrew told me that he had overheard a conversation between Bel and Frank where she said, "Frank, I remember when you were just getting teeth and learning how to say my name, and now look at you - going off to school!"

I was so proud to see how she expressed her support and excitement for Frank. She held his hand at the bus stop. She didn't do it in a "Oh, aren't you scared?!" kind of way, though. It was a "Aren't you excited? I am!" sort of way.

When the bus arrived, they continued to hold hands as they ran to the door. They kept holding hands, which became kind of funny at this point, because they had to squeeze through the door and up the stairs side-by-side. They made it, though, and continued to hold hands as they worked their way into the aisle. As the door shut, I saw the two of them sitting together in the front seat, still holding hands. Wow, I loved that.

Walter's Birth, Part 3 - "It's Waaaltterr!"

2011-09-03T08:00:00.005-05:00

(Part 1 located here, and Part 2 located here)

I cannot say enough how effective warm water can be during labor. I stretched out in the tub and felt immense relief. I moved around and labored in all the positions I had practiced. I laughed. I enjoyed the massages that Sarah and Andrew gave me.

I started to feel Darth moving lower. I felt myself working. I know I'm getting closer, but my contractions still feel irregular. I wonder why things aren't kicking into high gear.

At one point I laugh because I can feel Darth kicking out the front on my belly. Everyone watches. "Can you see that?" Yes, everyone can see it through the water. Wow. In hindsight, this is a clear indicator that Darth is completely posterior. He's facing my belly and not my back. Perhaps that's part of the reason why my labor was a bit slower and erratic? Who knows. I keep plugging along.

At 6:30 am I get out of the tub to go to the bathroom. I decide promptly that I'm not going to get out of the tub again. It is harder to labor out of the water, and I like it better in the tub.

I go completely into laborland. I'm focused on each contraction, and I doze between them. I hear my playlist Birth - Soothin' playing in the background. I sign along with Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" and Donna De Lory's "He Ma Durga ." Before Walter was born, I saw a birth video of a woman who song psalms through her entire labor. I said I'm not a singer, but I bet I dance my way through. Well, I didn't dance, but I sang.

He ma Durga
I want to love through your love

He ma Durga
I want to feel what you feel

He ma Durga
I want to see beyond this illusion
to what is real

I remember dozing between contractions with my face just above the water. The tip of my nose and the third eye on my forehead touched the surface. Peaceful.

I feel Darth getting lower. My sacrum stretches with each contraction. I do what I practiced. I tell myself I'm soft, and I open my back with the contractions and let him come down. I feel confident - I can do this.

I talk to my baby. I tell him we're okay. "Baby, baby, baby," I say. I remind him we are in this together. "Gentle, baby. Gentle."

The kids pop in and out. People talk quietly every now and then. The sun starts to come up, and light comes through the window. Andrew points this out and says that it's a beautiful morning to celebrate a birthday. In my stupid labor brain, I comment that the Twins don't play that day.

WHAT?!

Well, I was thinking of a conversation I had just had with a coworker about not missing a Twins game because I was giving birth. His prediction on the time of birth in the work baby pool was picked around the Twins schedule. I remembered that and noted that it was Monday the 10th and that the Twins had the day off and that we wouldn't miss a game. I pointed this out to Andrew, and everyone in the room broke into laughter. At the time I didn't get why it was so funny. I do now.

At about 7:15 am I had a monster of a contraction, and a ton of bloody show comes out. Emme and Clare had been checking in on Darth throughout the labor, and when they checked again. I hear them whispering. I sense something is wrong. I ask what's going on. They tell me nothing, but they keep whispering. I ask again. They tell me that Darth's heart rate dropped pretty low with a contraction, and they'd keep an eye on it. He probably didn't like the position I was in. I moved back to my hands and knees. They monitored closely, and his heart rate was fine after that, and they continued to reassure me, which I liked.

I continue to move around, and I get tons of care from my support team. I love it.

(Look at how doped I look! Effective hormones, I tell ya.)

Around 7:30 contractions were stronger than ever. I had to really work through them, but I still felt like I was stuck in low gear. I couldn't quite get the labor to move over the top. I was sitting in the tub, leaning back on the edge. Emme was supporting me. Sarah came back and took her place. At about 7:45 she suggested I do some lunges.

Hell no. I shake my head because I can't get any words out. There is no way I'm moving. I can barely keep my coping techniques working as I am, and if I move, well, I don't know what will happen.

But I know why she's suggesting this. I need to help Darth move. Maybe he needs a final turn. Maybe he needs to turn his head. He needs me to help him move down and out. I sigh with resignation. I lean forward and put a leg out to the side and lunge.

Sarah says, "Good job. Good. You can do this."

I lunge. It sucks. I contract. It sucks. I switch to other leg.

A contraction comes on, and I NEED to sit back.

Another contraction comes, and I NEED to move onto my hands and knees. I have a contraction or two that fill my head with white light, and I want to escape. Another contraction comes, and I feel immense pressure. I hear myself grunt a bit. I feel pushy. I tell myself, "Peace and calm. Peace and calm." I tell myself, "Breathe your baby down gently. Gentle gentle gentle."

It's about 8:00 am.

At 8:05, Emme asks me if I feel pushy. I say yes, and soon Andrew steps into the tub. I'm overcome with the contractions, but reminding myself to be gentle and to breathe down my baby help me get through the tough peaks. I don't want an overwhelming pushing stage. I want this to be gentle.

I'm leaning onto Andrew while on my knees, and he's kissing and hugging me. Every time a contraction comes, I grip his legs and let the intensity of the contractions push me forward into him as I keep everything inside me peaceful, calm, and gentle. I hear Clare using the words we discussed at our prenatal visits. "Peace and calm, Rebecca."

When I am overcome, I swear. I say, "I hate this part!" I do. I really do. But I also love it, because it is in this moment that I find strength that I didn't know I had. I do it. I give birth.

I am not pushing. I am breathing. I don't know if my baby is coming down. Emme asks me to feel if there is a baby's head crowing yet. I'm surprised by this question - so soon? I don't feel anything. Not long later (one contraction?) Emme asks me to feel again. I feel a baby there!

Somebody points out that my water hasn't broken. Emme asks if I felt the caul (the sack) over my baby's head. I have no idea. I've felt one or two baby heads as they've emerged (not mine), and the water had always broken first. I don't know what a caul feels like. At that moment, as if on queue, my water breaks. Everyone watching oooohs and awes at the sight of a cloud of vernix in the water. It's 8:20 am.

At 8:21 I keep breathing and try to keep my body moving as gently as possible. I feel with my hand again and this time feel Darth's head. It's soft like a newborn's head is when you kiss it. It's so familiar. It's so - baby.

At 8:23 I'm talking to Darth, "Gentle, gentle, gentle baby. Soft. Come down, baby. Gentle." We gently move through each contraction. When I feel overcome, Sarah and Clare give me my words.

Breathe - gently, now.

We take our time. I do not rush. I feel so much pressure. My voice swings from low to high as the pressure builds. Emme asks me if she'd like her to check for a cord around Darth's neck. I say yes. She tells me that after that, it's all me, because I'm catching my baby.

At 8:30, another contraction comes, and I try to stay soft and peaceful. Someone says his head is out. I reach down and feel his head, his hair, his face, and his ear. My baby! Oh, my baby. There is really a baby there!

In that one moment, I recall every wiggle and kick of the months leading up to this. I know this baby. I cannot wait to hold him.

I don't feel another contraction, and I say, "I can't get it out."

That's right, I called Darth "it." In three pregnancies, we were adamant about not referring to our baby as "it." We always uses human pronouns. But here in this profound moment, I say, "I can't get it out."

Oh well.

Emme asks me to lean forward. I do. I push, and without thinking about any of this, I reach down and catch my baby. I feel his body, and I lift him up to me. I sit back, and our baby is between Andrew and me.

I look at his pudgy, scrunched up face and am completely overcome with love.

The next few moments take only seconds or minutes, but they feel like hours to me in my mind. Someone asks if we have a boy or a girl, I move a leg aside and see. I loudly proclaim, "It's WAAAALLTTTER!"

Okay, so I totally stole Andrew's moment. With each of our kids' births, it's been Andrew's wish to announce the sex of our baby. The moments never played out like we planned, but their follies are the best memories of our babies' births. With Bel, if you recall, he stood there in stunned silence and after several moments of silence, the nurse finally announced her sex. With Frank, he couldn't decide if he wanted to say, "It's a boy!" or "It's Frank!" Instead, the memory of his awesome announcement of "It's a Frank!" still makes us smile. And this time, well, I goofed it up and announced it myself. Andrew says he doesn't care, and I know he doesn't. I still feel bad, though. I got to birth Walt and hold him in his first seconds. And I stole the one thing Andrew had!

Soon Bel and Frank are there, too. We are all blissed looking at our newest Feyder. He doesn't really open his eyes and won't until the next day. He was a bit puffy from the birth. I still recognize his face, though, as if I'd always known it.

We get out of the tub and cuddle up on the mattress on the floor. The sun is shining through the window now, and we admire Walter. He's nursing by 8:50 am, and Andrew holds him for the first time at 9:30 am. We relish calling everyone with the news. I loved calling my boss. Everyone at work had to know already, though, since Anna, Emily A, and I all work together and none of us came in to the office that morning. I also loved with Anna called our friend Rachel who lives in Maryland. I felt like she was there with us.

Emme and Clare continue to check on Walter and me throughout the morning. My blood pressure was a little high, which is apparently my norm for the end of pregnancy and birth. Other than that, we get stellar reviews. Soon, everyone goes home, and it's just the Feyder Five cuddled up in our home. What an amazing day.

Happy birthday, dear Walter.

May 10th, 2010
8:31 am
8 lbs 6 oz
21 inches
14 inch head circumference

Note: I may add some more newborn photos in a few days or so. I'm having technical challenges right now that are preventing me from including those as I publish this.

Walter's Birth, Part 2 - The Wee Hours

2011-09-02T08:00:00.002-05:00

(Part 1 located here)

When I left off this story, I had just called our entire birth team at midnight. Contractions had picked up in frequency and strength between 10:30 pm and midnight, and the pattern reminded me of Bel's birth. Her birth was extremely rapid once I hit active labor, and I progressed from 3cm to giving birth in just over an hour. I was afraid I was about to have a repeat.

I was wrong.

After Bel's birth, we talked about my "history of rapid labor." Frank's labor, though, was a normal second labor. His labor moved smoothly and steadily. We wondered which path Darth's labor would take. Well, long story short, I no longer claim to have a "history of rapid labor." I think Bel's birth suited her personality - fast, furious, and intense - and my boys just arrived more gradually.

As the birth team started to arrive, my labor slowed down to a trickle.

The midwives assess Darth and me, they set everything up, and we waited. I don't know how slow my contractions were at that point, but things had definitely slowed down considerably. Bit by bit people went to sleep.

Except Clare. She did yoga.

Actually, I took a snooze, too. I took three naps. The first Andrew was with me, and Sarah gave me a massage.

The second nap Andrew was asleep downstairs, so Sarah cuddled with me. The third I rested alone and listened to my Hypnobirthing track. In between rests I would walk around a bit and talked with Clare and Emily R. Emily was our photographer, but she's also a doula and played that role for a bit while Sarah slept. For a while I sat on the ball, and Emily held a hot back on my back. Clare stayed with me and offered words of support. It was absolutely lovely.

At about 2:30 am I started to feel shaky and emotional. I wanted to see the kids. I crawled up the stairs as fast as I could between contractions. Once I got up there, strong, frequent contractions returned. You see, women give birth effectively when they feel safe and secure. We need to build our nests. For me, that meant having my family with me. I wanted my kids to be with me. So, once I got up to their rooms, I labored more effectively. I probably should have stayed up there, but I didn't. I sat with Bel for a minute and told her I loved her and was proud of her. I wasn't worried about her at all. I knew she would adjust well.

I had a harder time with Frank. He'd been my little man - my baby. I was worried about how he would adjust. I wanted to sit with him for a while, but the contractions were coming fast, and they were more than I could handle sitting down. I decided I needed to get downstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs, daunted by the thought of going down them. I waited for a contraction to pass, then I RAN down those stairs. I did NOT want to get a contraction half way down.

Clare commented on how I was able to go up and down those stairs pretty quickly. I laughed. I know - labor wasn't kicking in just yet. But it sure felt that way upstairs!

In another between-nap moment, I chatted with Clare and Emily R in my darkened birth room. I expressed doubt about whether I was really in labor. Clare pointed out that I was in labor, but nobody would tell me how far apart my contractions were. I could have looked at one of the many clocks in our house, but labor hormones have a way of diminishing cognitive abilities. I never thought to look at a clock.

I realized at that moment that I was standing with my cheek pressed against the wall because the wall was cool. I saw myself from Clare's eyes, and yes, I definitely looked like a woman in labor. We talked about what might be holding me back from kicking into a more active labor pattern. I talked a bit about my fears. I had already talked with Clare and Emme prenatally about how fast Frank descended during his birth. Once my water broke, he barreled his way out. It was a bit overwhelming, and Clare coached me prenatally on how to slow down the pushing stage of this birth (hence the Hypnobirthing). I also talked about how hard it was to say goodbye to this pregnancy because it was my last. She listened and acknowledged how normal this was. I felt emotional. I decided to lie down. It was about 4:00 am.

This was my third and last rest on the mattress on our floor. This is the one where I was alone and listened to my Hypnobirthing track. I went into my hypnosis-induced state of deep relaxation. I had four contractions during the track, so my brain figured out that contractions were about seven minutes apart. The last contraction was pretty strong and woke me out of my relaxation. I must have made a noise with it, because Clare and Emily R stopped talking. I see Clare noted this in my record, too. It was 4:36 am.

I got up. I walked a bit. The rest of the group started to wake up, and Emme and Sarah rubbed my back.

I went into the bathroom about 5:00 am. With my work schedule at the time, this was my usual waking time. So, I think my body started waking up per its usual routine. As I washed my hands, I felt a burst of energy. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Let's do this. Let's have a baby."

I turned on the iPod. I had two playlists: 1) Birth - Soothin' and 2) Birth - Rockin'. I chose Birth Rockin'. The first song was "I've Got a Feeling" by Paul McCartney. Remember when I wondered what my birth song would be? Oh, well. This is it. The music started, and I smiled. Almost immediately, I heard the patter of feet upstairs. Bel and Frank were up, and I met them at the stairs. Remember I said I needed them with me to complete my nest-building before I could go into labor? (The same was true for Frank's labor, if you remember.) Well, I met them at the bottom of the stairs and was promptly doubled over by a contraction that was so strong I had to stop and focus.

I was so happy to see the kids. They were surprised to wake to a house full of people. They knew everyone, though, and knew immediately why they were there. Bel was excited.

I held Frank on my lap and worked through the tougher contractions that were now rolling in pretty frequently. Someone made me some toast, and I ate.

I went to the kitchen and swayed through contractions. Sarah and Emme continued to rub my back. Clare asked if we should wake up Andrew. I looked at the clock - 5:30 am. I thought that it would be good for him to sleep until 6:00, which is what time he normally wakes up. We let him sleep.

I went to the bathroom and got to fully appreciate the benefits of laboring on the toilet. The contractions started coming faster (2-3 minutes), and I hardly got a break. I remember shaking my head side to side, thinking, "No... no..." I was confused by that reaction. I didn't want contractions to stop, but I still shook my head in protest.

I decided I better brush my teeth so that I would be cleaner for my baby's birth. Stupid, stupid idea. For nearly the entire pregnancy, I would throw up every morning when I brushed my teeth. It didn't matter if I waited until after breakfast, brushed right away, or drank only water first. I would barf nearly every time. My routine was then to drink an ounce of water and then brush my teeth in the shower. At least then I'd throw something up but it would only be a small amount of water in the shower. This was so routine and predictable that the water I threw up would still be cold when it came back up. Gross.

So, stupid idea to brush my teeth while in labor. The familiar wave came at the same time as a contraction. The toilet was right next to me, but I could not bend over to get to it. I yelled out for someone to help me, and Emme came running in with the closest suitable container she could find - our sauce pan. There I was, barfing into our sauce pan while I stood over our toilet. I was so frustrated. I could feel the toilet against my leg, and I was barfing into our cooking pot.

Clare and Emme's notes say this was at 5:42 am and that I was in the tub by 5:44. I decided I didn't care if I was going to be in labor for another ten hours, I wanted my tub. I stepped in and felt the warm water calm my body and my soul. Immediate relief.

(Part 3 located here)

Walter's Birth, Part 1 - The Due Date

2011-09-01T08:00:00.002-05:00

I got to sleep in on Mother's Day. What a treat. I woke to Bel and Frank tiptoeing into the room with a card for me. Andrew followed with a present. I got exactly what I wanted (because I'm a loud hinter): a black nursing tank. I looked at it and was overcome the realization that I'd be using it soon. I would soon have a little baby...

It was May 9th, 2010, my due date. One of the things I love about the end of pregnancy is that you wake each day not knowing if your world will change that day. I had woken each day for the past few weeks with that thought, but on my due date I thought, "Well, not today." Less than five percent of babies are born on their due date, so I figured if there was any day when I wouldn't go into labor, it was today.

I was out of sorts from the first minute. My hormones were raging. I tried to play Chutes & Ladders with the kids while Andrew visited his mom. I was so irritable that I couldn't do it. I couldn't seem to tolerate that Bel wanted to go up the chutes and down the ladders. I knew I was hormonal, and I blamed it on my psychological reaction to waddling around on my due date. My mood lifted when all four of us went out for lunch. I remember the warm sunshine. It was one of those glorious first summer-like days of the year, and I loved it. We ate lunch at D'Amico, crowded around a tiny little table. Andrew pointed out that this would be one of our last family meals at a table for four. Hmm... we were going to be a bigger family soon! I reached down with my left hand and felt Darth's feet on my left side. He was completely ROT - his back was directly down my right side, and his feet were popping out my left. I enjoyed touching his feet.

Andrew and I decided to skip grocery shopping that day. Our house was pretty much void of food, and we had made an effort to keep ourselves reasonably stocked at the end of the pregnancy so that we would be sure to have food on hand for our family postpartum and for ourselves and our birth team. I brought this up as we walked up our front steps after lunch. I also mentioned offhandedly my moodiness. But whatever - it's my due date, right? If there was ever a day I wouldn't go into labor, it was on my due date.

I celebrated my due date with a bar of dark chocolate and a run around the lake. I've always enjoyed running while pregnant. It loosens up all the achy parts and gives me energy. The looks from strangers usually fire me up, too. Of all my pregnancy runs with the three kids, though, this one was my favorite. The sun shone through the leaves. The lake was sparkling with reflected sunlight. It seemed the whole world was out for a walk with their mom. I felt energetic and graceful. It was absolutely wonderful. I wondered how many more runs I would get in before giving birth. When I went for a run on Frank's due date, I was a cranky bitch. I think I growled at someone who gave me a funny look, and I said to myself that I hated the lake and the sun and that I was more than ready to have a baby. I was in the exact opposite mood on this run and felt like I could handle a few more runs before going into labor.

One woman looked at me with her eyes popping out of her head. "WOW! You go, girl!" When I met her again on the opposite side of the lake, she asked, "When are you due?" I can't tell you how fun it was to watch her reaction when I responded, "Today!" as I ran on past. That's right! STARE ON!

Our neighbor lady chatted with me as I returned home. She said that she had all three of her kids on their due dates. Really?! What are the odds of that? I said something about feeling too good to go into labor today but that given the time and my history of fast labors (Bel was a rocket ship), I could still pull off a birth on my due date. I knew, though, that I felt way too good to go into labor soon.

But that was about to change.

It wasn't long after I got back that I started to feel that late-pregnancy walking-impediment. You ladies know what I mean. This is the feeling at the end of pregnancy when your baby drops way low into your pelvis, and it's hard to walk. In about an hour I went from running around the lake feeling as light as a feather to hardly being able to take two steps. "Whoa, Andrew. I think Darth dropped again." He had dropped and bounced back up several times in the last month or two. "Wow. I think I may be done running with this pregnancy. Whew." I repeated this message several times over the afternoon. In hindsight, I wonder if I wasn't having contractions, because sometimes I could walk just fine and others I would be stopped in my tracks.

Late in the afternoon I joined the kids outside on the sidewalk in front of our house. Another curious neighbor came over to ask about when the baby was coming. (I hate that question.) And this is when the kids started acting strange. Kids and pets are tuned into nature better than the rest of us are, and they usually sense labor before we mothers do. Frank started acting funky, and then he peed his pants there on the sidewalk. At about that exact moment I felt something come out of me. I immediately wondered if it was a mucous plug or maybe some amniotic fluid. Or maybe it was my imagination. But I wanted to find out, so I scooped up Frank, and we went inside.

I found a spot the size of a quarter in my underwear. It didn't seem like mucous, but there were no other signs of fluid leaking. Hmmm. I went back outside. It happened again. It continued to happen all afternoon. I'd change underwear, and twenty minutes later, another spot would appear.

Now, hindsight really is the clearest lens. I felt this stuff coming out every twenty minutes or so. Stupid me - I didn't realize that I was having contractions, and the contractions were pushing out this stuff. I figured it wasn't fluid since when I laid down, the stuff continued to come out every so often while I was lying there and didn't change when I stood up. (Amniotic fluid that is leaking will pool in your vagina and will pour out when you stand.)

I didn't say anything to Andrew. I figured it was nothing to get excited about since I couldn't really go into labor on my due date, right? That would be so un-doula of me.

So, the kids had to sense something, because they were acting weird. Bel was super clingy and needed to cuddle with me on the couch while I tried to nap. We watched some stupid wedding show on cable. I hate those things but for some reason, that's the only thing Bel would agree to watch besides Sponge Bob. She was practically smothering me she was so clingy.

After dinner we watched a nature show. Frank usually loves these, but instead of watching, he went completely berserk. He started biting and yelling and flung himself into things. It was completely out of character, and Andrew had to take him away and brought him upstairs to bed. Frank was acting so wild that Andrew skipped the bedtime story. We read stories to our kids before bed every night with the only exceptions being when they fall asleep in the car after a night out and we carry them sleeping to their beds. I knew that the situation was extreme if Frank didn't get a story before bed. Strange.

Bel went to bed shortly after, and as I came back into the living room, I said to Andrew, "Something is happening."

Andrew looked at me and smiled.

Now, I have to contrast this reaction with Andrew's reactions to similar news on the other two labors. With Bel, he looked at me blankly and said, "You say that all the time."

"Yes, but one of these times it will be real, and this seems real." The blank expression stayed on his face (denial) as he later crawled into bed while I was on the phone with the hospital.

When I said the same thing with Frank, Andrew flew out of bed and was a tasmanian devil swirling around cleaning the house.

But this time he just smiled and sat back in the living room cozy chair. I told him about the stuff coming out. While I still felt like this was probably nothing, we agreed that I should call Clare, one of our midwives. We had two midwives, and I decided that when it came to labor, I would call Clare since she lived only a mile away from us.

Clare agreed that what I was feeling was likely not amniotic fluid but that given I was GBS positive, it would still be prudent to check my temperature periodically throughout the evening, if I happened to wake at night, and again in the morning. I hung up with Clare expecting to call her in the morning. I also called Sarah, our doula. She was out for a walk with a friend and said that she'd have only one glass of wine after the walk. I laughed and told her not to hold back for me, that this was probably not labor. She didn't seem convinced of that, but I was.

Andrew and I settled into our cozy chairs and watched our recording of the previous night's Saturday Night Live with Betty White. We don't normally watch SNL, but we figured Betty White would be pretty funny. She was, and we laughed. It felt good.

We decided to go to bed. Andrew was brushing his teeth as I walked to the bathroom. When he looked at me, he stopped brushing, and said, "You're in labor."

"Nah, I don't think so. I'm just really uncomfortable."

"Honey," he said, "I've seen you give birth twice. I know what you look like when you're in labor, and you look like that now."

"I don't think I'm in labor. I'm just feeling achy for some reason..." And that's when I noticed it. I paid attention to the ache I was feeling, and realized what it was. My uterus was tight, but it was different than the tightening of Braxton Hicks contractions. This was a tightening and ache that went straight to my core. It came from my base chakra and radiated red energy through my pelvis. It was a familiar sensation, one I remembered. I stopped mid-sentence with the realization of it, and as I looked at Andrew, he wiped his face on the towel and repeated, "Honey, you're in labor!"

As if to drive the point home, I found the mucous plug when I went to the bathroom. Then I felt another contraction as I walked down to bed. I tried to text a message to Sarah and our photographer Emily R (also a doula), but my head was already foggy with hormones. I couldn't remember how to spell "mucous," and when I asked Andrew how to spell it, he laughed and said, "Wow. YOU ARE IN LABOR! Look at you!" Emily asked how soon after losing my mucous plug I went into labor with Bel and Frank. I responded with, "A few hours." She said she'd keep her phone close.

I sent a similar text to Emily A and Anna, our friends who'd come to watch the kids. That message was simpler for me to type. It said, "Heads up - rumbling." My contractions were about 5-10 minutes apart.

Andrew and I were giddy. We wondered what Darth would look like. We thought of the 24 hours ahead of us. Then we were serious. We talked about our fears. I honestly cannot tell you what Andrew's fears where. (I guess I was preoccupied with mine.) I do remember what I told him about my fears. I knew the work I had ahead of me, and I was scared. I knew I could cope. What scared me is the loss of control. You see, you can't say when you are ready for the hard stuff. It just happens whether you are ready at that moment or not. You kind of get dragged into labor, and you have to be ready to go with it. I knew it would be hard. I hoped my preparations would pay off with the coping tools I knew I would need.

We decided to listen to my Hypnobirthing track. It was about 10:30 pm. I had practiced with this track often enough that it was fully effective with me. I don't think we got more than 30 seconds in when I fell into a sleep. I say "sleep," but it's not really sleep. I was in a deep state of relaxation. Once the track ended, I woke again, like I always do when the track ends. I felt calm and confident.

I decided to go to sleep, but every time I'd drift off, I'd get a contraction. They started to feel stronger, so I decided to time them. I'd snooze, and when one started, I'd open an eye to check the time.

Seven minutes.

Six minutes.

Five minutes.

Things felt stronger. I wondered if I should call someone. With Frank, I called our midwife when the contractions were 6-7 minutes apart to let her know what was going on. She said she wanted to come over despite that I felt like it was too early because she felt that with a second baby and my history of a fast labor, she preferred to come over. This time I didn't feel like I needed help, but I wondered if I should call under the rationale that our last midwife had. I decided to wait until midnight. That was about 40 minutes away.

Four minutes.

I recalled Bel's birth where contractions started just like this, and once I hit active labor, she was born within an hou r. Frank's labor started more slowly and was a longer, normal birth. This was like Bel's labor.

Three-to-four minutes.

It was only 11:42 pm, and I said I was going to wait until midnight before calling anyone.

Three-to-four minutes and stronger.

At 11:54 pm I decided that this was too similar to Bel's birth and I that I better call someone. I went upstairs, pausing part way up the steps with another contraction. I went to the bathroom and found bloody show.

Any doubt was gone. This is labor.

I called Clare at midnight and told her what was going on. She said she'd call Emme and would be on her way. I called the rest of the team, too. I woke Andrew and told him what was going on.

I turned on our exterior light. I settled onto the birth ball, rested my head on our dining table, and waited.

(Part 2 located here)

It's Time

2011-08-31T15:39:00.004-05:00

Remember way back in 2010 when I was pregnant with Walter and I wondered how adding another child to our family would impact my blogging? Notice that I haven't been commenting on any of your blogs? Notice that I haven't posted since May?

I miss all of you. I do. I talk to you often, writing blog posts in my head that never make it onto the computer. I still think I'll be back someday. I just have my hands full right now.

One thing I absolutely had to take care of was writing Walter's birth story. I've been thinking about it for months and months. I realized eventually that I would need to take a vacation day from work when the kids are gone to write it. So I did. And it really took me all day to write it.

I'm going to publish the birth story in a day or so. As I've noted with all my birth stories, you need to know that the story isn't written for you. It's written for me. I need to document my memory of the events. The result is that the story may not be interesting to you. I fully recognize that. If I wanted to make it interesting for you, I'd leave out all the prelabor events, and I'd keep the post to under 1,500 words. As it is, though, the story is for me. It's long. It's detailed. It's probably pretty boring. Deal with it. Skim it. Ignore it. Read only the parts that interest you. Whatever.

As I wrote this, I looked back on my medical records from the midwives, and I revisited the photos and video. I noticed a note that Clare and Emme, our midwives, wrote on the chart at one of our prenatal visits my prediction of when Darth would arrive. It matches what I put in my own baby pool at work. I predicted:

Predicted Birth Date: May 12, 2010 (Actual date: May 10th)
I figured I'd have him on Wednesday since I usually take Wednesdays off starting the week or two before my due date. I went into labor with both Bel & Frank on Wednesday nights after my day off. I assumed I'd go past my due date, which is why I chose the 12th versus the 5th.

Predicted Time of Birth: 9:00 am or 9:00 pm (Actual time: 8:31 am)
I knew that I would want to have Bel and Frank awake and with me when Darth arrived. That was very important to me. Since women tend to labor when they feel safe, secure, and fully nested, I assumed I'd wait until they were awake before giving birth if labor started at night. If labor started during the day, I figured I'd give birth before their bedtime.

Predicted Weight: 8 lb. 3 oz. (Actual size: 8 lb. 6 oz.)
I've attended about 60 births as a doula. Most of the babies I see are eight pounds. Some are nine pounds, and a few are seven pounds. I get an occasional ten-pounder and six-pounder in there. Most, though, are in the eights. Bel was 7 lb. 2 oz., and Frank was 7 lb. 14 oz. I felt like I had always given birth to little squeakers. Andrew and I both weighed in a 6 lb. 7 oz. at birth, but babies are bigger these days. I wondered why my babies were so much smaller than my clients'. It's not my size (I'm 5 ft 4 in and 115 pounds), because some of my biggest doula babies came out of petite little mamas. I figured Darth would be my eight-pounder. He was. He's like my prized fish. I should hang him from a scale and take a picture. Oh wait, we have that:

I love Andrew's face expression. He looked at Walter when he was born and said, "I guess six pounds, seven ounces." I looked at Walter and thought he looked normal sized, so I guessed he'd be an eight-pounder. Andrew thought I was crazy. That look on my face as the midwives weighed Walter is the "I told you so" look I often have because I'm often right about things.

Well, look for the birth story soon. I wish I could say I'll be here blogging often, but I can't. I'm hoping that as Walter gets older and needs me less and less in the evenings after work, I may have some time to myself to write again. I look forward to that so that I can reconnect with all of you and your families again, too.

The World According to Frank - May 18th, 2011

2011-05-22T08:36:00.000-05:00

I like pulling up my underwear after I go to the bathroom. It wipes the pee off my legs.

The World According to Bel - May 19th, 2011

2011-05-21T08:31:00.000-05:00

I helped with Bel's ballet recital rehearsal and got to watch her practice her performance on stage with her classmates. She clearly loves being on stage, so I asked her how it felt. Here is her response:

Exciting. And fun. And exciting. And also exciting. And you know what else? Exciting. Oh, and there's one more thing that it feels: exciting!

Yes, that's an exact quote. A few minutes later, she said:

Someday I want to be on stage all by myself. That would be the best.

Hmm. She doesn't get this from me. I hate performing. Her dad? Oh yeah. That's where she gets it.

Happy Birthday, Walter!

2011-05-20T08:30:00.000-05:00

He's trying to walk. He waves. He applauds himself. He has awesome hair and a smile unlike any other. He's Walter, and he's one year old!

Happy birthday, Walter! We love you!

His actual birthday was May 10th. I'm slow with this kind of stuff these days, but at least I got it done.

Pink Sea Pony

2011-05-05T16:30:00.001-05:00

The other night Frank and Walter were taking a bath at my parents' house. Frank leaned over the side of the tub where my mom keeps old bath toys. I love these toys. They are from when my brother and I were kids. Frank asked me to get him the pink sea pony. I never had anything that was a pink sea pony, and I couldn't think of which toy Frank was talking about. I looked in the bucket.

Ah, I think I figured out what Frank was calling the pink sea pony. Did you figure it out? This is what I handed him.

His response? "No, mom! That's not the pink sea pony! THAT's the pink sea pony." He pointed at something in the toy bucket. What was he pointing at?

I see it now. Clearly, that is the pink sea pony. How silly of me.

Hair

2011-04-29T17:34:00.002-05:00

Walter - Eleven Months

2011-04-26T19:15:00.000-05:00

Walty is eleven months old! Ah! The guy is growing up.

Walter is no longer a baby. He's a toddler. While he's not walking yet, he might as well be. There's no place he can't go. There's no cupbard he can't get into. He's now one of the gang with the older two. It is so much fun to see.

He's also communicating more. He can do "so big" and we've heard him say "daddy." He mimicks sounds we make and will talk back and forth with us using his "deedle DAH" sounds. I can't believe how much babies learn to do in just one year. What will the next year bring?!

Below are some Walty photos to enjoy, including one of his ever-so-expressive eyebrows. Like his head, his eyebrows now have hair. When he was first born, they were bald. When he furrowed them, they were like hairless caterpillars.

Boy, do his eyebrows express emotion, or what?

And so does his smile.

Walter, meet Stella. Stella, meet Walter.

Big Balls: They Help Reduce Labor Pain

2011-04-22T17:00:00.000-05:00

If you remember, I have enormous balls. Those are birth balls, folks. Get your minds out of the gutter!

Birth balls are the same thing as exercise balls. We just call them birth balls when used by pregnant women prenatally or during labor. Women can sit on them or lean on them during labor as a way to stay comfortable in various laboring positions. I give one to all of my doula families, and I show them how to use them prenatally and during labor.

I just came across an abstract from a study published in The Journal of Midwifery & Women’s Health that looked at whether use of a birth ball during labor helps with pain management. The study indicates that it does.

Effect of birth ball usage on pain in the active phase of labor: a randomized controlled trial.
Taavoni S, Abdolahian S, Haghani H, Neysani L.

Abstract
Introduction: Anxiety can be a contributor to labor pain, which is known to be multifactorial. Because there is little information available on the efficacy of birth ball use for labor pain management, this study aimed to evaluate the effectiveness of use of a birth ball on labor pain, contractions, and duration of the active phase of labor. Methods: In this randomized controlled trial, 60 primiparous women aged 18 to 35 years were divided into birth ball and control groups. Pain scores were measured by a visual analogue scale. Results: Mean pain scores in the birth ball group were significantly lower than the mean pain scores in the control group (P < .05). There were no significant differences between duration of the active phase of labor or the interval between uterine contractions in the 2 groups (P > .05). Discussion: Although the use of a birth ball had no effect on the duration of the active phase of labor, the duration of uterine contractions, or the interval between contractions, this complementary treatment could reduce the intensity of pain during the active phase of labor.© 2011 by the American College of Nurse-Midwives.

I have some questions on the study. For example, I wonder if the control group was limited to laboring in bed or if these mothers were permitted to move freely even if they did not use a birth ball. I think the restricted movement would have a large impact on pain management. It's also unclear based on the abstract how the women used the ball. Where they sitting on it? Leaning on it? If there's anyone out there who can access the study details on the full study, please share. I can't access the full article in The Journal of Midwifery & Women’s Health.

Still, I think it's great to know that having big balls helps with labor pain!

The World According to Bel - April 4, 2011

2011-04-17T17:30:00.000-05:00

I only like one kind of fish: pork.

The World According to Bel - April 1, 2011

2011-04-16T17:29:00.003-05:00

Wouldn't it be great if everyone in the world had the same amount of money?

Blog Carnival - Finding the Mother in Me

2011-03-24T08:00:00.011-05:00

I’m participating in a blog carnival today hosted by It’s My Baby and I’ll _____ If I Want To, a blog affiliated with Welcome Baby Care. We carnivalistas are writing about what it was like the first few days at home with our new babies. Hmmm… I like this topic. It’s easy for me to think and write about the first days with Frank and Walt, because those days were so easy. We cuddled. We nursed. They slept. I didn’t. There wasn’t anything exciting at all about it. I thought I could post a few text-book-style photos and that would be that.

But the point, I think, is to demonstrate how we all fumble into motherhood differently, how we mothers were born along with our babies. Frank and Walt aren’t good examples of that. I was already a mom and didn’t have much of an adjustment to bambinos #2 and #3.

For me, the adjustment was with #1 bambina, our drama queen, Miss Belencita.

There are two things I remember about those first few days home with Bel. First, I remember how awkward it was to breastfeed her. She knew what she was doing. I was the one who took a while to figure things out. Second, I remember all the baths we gave her. She was a clean kid. I don’t know why, but we felt the need to give her a bath every single day.

But I need to talk about the breastfeeding. I really over-thought the whole thing. I was like a robot. I’d watch the clock, and when the clock said Bel was hungry, I’d feed her, and the feeding episodes were rituals that left little time or energy for the cuddling and snuggling that is the essence of breastfeeding. It is, you see, not just about food. It’s about nurturing. I missed that in the early days. Instead, feeding time was an event that was planned and executed. Here were the instructions I made for myself and ridiculously followed:

Ingredients:
couch, back pillow, Boppy pillow, water thermos (filled), clock, and baby

Steps:
1. Clear off couch
2. Put water thermos within reach of intended feeding location on the couch
3. Put back back pillow on couch feeding location
4. Put Boppy pillow within reach of intended feeding location (careful not to spill the water thermos)
5. Put clock within view of intended feeding location
6. Take off shirt (I hadn’t figured out how to feed with it on yet)
7. Sit down in established feeding location on couch
8. Put Boppy on lap
9. Take baby from husband
10. Try to remember what side baby fed on last time
11. Put baby’s had on opposite side from where she fed last time
12. Assemble perfect latch
13. Let baby suckle for exactly 20 minutes – no more, no less
14. Break the suckle seal (Because she’s done, damnit! The clock says so!)
15. Offer other breast until baby is content

Sigh. It’s exhausting to read that, isn’t it? Well, I eventually figured out that Bel is a person and not just “the baby.” She has preferences, feelings, and tastes. And like the rest of us, her appetite varies. As my lactation consultant explained to me, “Sometimes you and I want a large pizza for dinner, and sometimes we just want some popcorn. Your baby is the same way. She won’t eat the same way each time. You have to respond to her.”

And so I settled into a more comfortable routine of feeding her when she was hungry, and I let her eat as much as she wanted. Sometimes she ate and ate and ate and ate, and that made me feel better when she had smaller meals. I learned to breastfeed sitting in other chairs, without the Boppy, and while keeping my shirt on. And we cuddled. And we snuggled. I mothered her, and soon I understood the enjoyment of breastfeeding. I found the mother that was in me, and when Frank and Walty came around, I found it easy to find the right way to mother and breastfeed them in the unique ways they needed.

I do want to say that my point here isn’t that mothers should all breastfeed and that if they do, they must do it exactly how I have. That’s not it. I’m saying that the process I went through helped me figure out what was right for me. It was through those ridiculous rituals that I found the mother in me.

I'm glad I found her.

The World According to Bel - March 21, 2011

2011-03-21T08:30:00.004-05:00

These are things that Bel told me she likes:

lockets
jewelry
necklaces
bracelets
rings
my mom
art
helping
chores
my family, including my mom
Walter
babies
God, Mary, Jesus
coffee - when I grow up
playing in boxes
pictures
TV

computer games
reading (best of all!)
eating
Xbox Kinect

Walter - 10 Months

2011-03-16T08:30:00.001-05:00

Walty is ten months old. He's five-sixths according to Andrew. To me, he's growing up too fast. He's already more toddler than baby, with his curly hair and wide-eyed, curious way of exploring his world with his poking fingers and eye for the small things on the floor that he shouldn't have.

A lot has changed in just a month. Walter is now cruising everywhere. He pulled himself up to standing very quickly after learning to crawl, and it wasn't long before he figured out how to move while there, too. He is constantly on the go. A year ago I commented on how active he was in-utero. He was by far the most active baby I carried. He's still active, so much so that he's kind of a small baby. He works off all the calories he takes in. He has no baby fat rolls on him. No Michellen baby here. He does eat. In fact, he loves meat. He especially enjoyed some ring sausage we had the other night. He was firing down those little meat cubes faster than we could cut them. Even Frank the Tank seemed impressed by Walt's meat-eating skills.

While I enjoy his activity most of the time, I loathe it when I need him to stay still. The prime example of this is when he's on the changing table. Walter on the changing table is a little like a freshly caught fish - he just flopps around uncontrolably. I remember the other kids doing this, too, but it was never this bad. We try to distract him with toys and belly button zerberts, but nothing seems to work. I have changed a lot of diapers in the past six years, so I like to think I'm pretty good at it. I even got good at putting a diaper on a kid who was running across the room. Putting a diaper on Walty, though, is a whole different challenge.

I get a kick out of Walter. He the first kid in our house who likes his baby toys. With Bel and Frank, I concluded that baby toys were a marketing rip-off, because neither really cared much for the toys (except the farm magnet toy for the fridge - that was and still is fun). Walter, though, loves his toys. He is happy to sit and rummage through his basket. He'll play with nearly every toy in there. What surprises me is that he actually plays with them the way they were designed to be played with. Here's an example. He has some blocks that have spinny and pokey toys on the sides. Our other kids would chew on them if they bothered with them at all. Walt, however, will actually spin the spinny things and poke the pokey things. I am so amazed by this. I'm not sure why.

Finally, we have to report that Walt is no longer The Toothless Wonder. He got his first tooth on his ten month birthday. You can't really see it yet, but it's there. He's now The One Tooth Wonder.

Differing Perspectives on the Birth Experience

2011-02-21T18:30:00.000-06:00

I have to share this with you. It's a paper written by Sara Anderson for a graduate writing course she is taking. I don't know Sara. She called me after finding me on the internet. She wanted to interview a doula for her "Birth & Death" class. I just read her final paper, and it resonated with me so much that I wanted to share. (She gave permission to share it.) I'll post her poem and a transcript of the interview in the coming days.

Penny Simkin, the founder of DONA (Doulas of North America) famously tells a story of teaching a childbirth education class in a nursing home cafeteria. A resident of the home walked in and attended the class each week, and she spoke up a few weeks into the course. She said she had several children and could tell the group a thing or two about birth. She then proceeded to tell the birth stories for each of her children. It was at that moment that Penny Simkin realized the profound impact of birth on a woman's life. This elderly woman, who likely didn't remember much of her daily life, remembered minute details of the births of her children. The way we feel during birth - the way we are treated - never leaves us.

You'll see that in Sara's paper. Her story is not unfamiliar, unfortunately. Yet, I see some hope in it. Do you?

Oh, and Sara got an A+ on her paper...

Differing Perspectives on the Birth Experience

The birth experience I had with my daughter was not one I’d wish on another woman. Grace was born large and healthy and we were profoundly grateful for that, but many facets of the event left me feeling angry and disempowered. Until this semester I believed I’d put behind me any lingering disappointment about how my labor evolved. Reading Tina Cassidy’s book Birth: The Surprising History of How We Are Born, however, reawakened a grief in me I thought long gone. In hopes of examining (and perhaps healing) some of the emotions the book stirred in me, I used this assignment to interview three people about the birth process. First, I interviewed my best friend and husband of 17 years, Christopher Busse. I wanted to hear his take on our labor and delivery, and what the process had been like for him. Next, I interviewed a dear friend who had chosen a home birth experience because I had heard her say many times how powerful and positive an experience it had been for her. Last, I interviewed a Twin Cities doula, a woman whose name I found by doing an internet search and who graciously allowed me to ask her questions about her work on the front lines of the birthing process.

In each of these interviews, I longed to hear good news. I believed I could predict what my husband might say about his experience, although his answers on many counts surprised me. From the two women with whom I spoke, I hoped to hear stories about “good” births, ones that had left mothers feeling strong and unconquerable. I wanted to affirm that such births can and do occur and I wanted, in hearing these women recount their stories, to celebrate vicariously with those who had actually experienced them.

A Partner’s View on Labor & Delivery

First, I needed to hear more about my own labor and delivery, as seen through the eyes of my husband Chris. It is an odd thing to interview one’s husband about his perceptions on the birth process. The most surprising thing he told me was that the notion of parenthood, of bringing a child into the world, was entirely abstract until the moment he held our daughter in his arms. This caught me off-guard because I’d been able to feel our daughter move inside me since the eighteenth week of my pregnancy. She had felt real to me from the moment we had conceived her, but that was not Chris’ experience.

“I felt affected by your pregnancy but I wasn’t a part of it. Grace’s birth made everything real… I think of all the dads (mine included) who sat in waiting rooms while their children were born and who were then handed a bundle and told, ‘Here’s your child.’ I think they missed something. Sure it becomes real soon enough when you’re holding a newborn or getting up for the first time in the middle of the night or changing a poopy diaper, but they missed the opportunity to be there at the instant when it all clicked into place.”

He also agreed that the care we were given at Fairview Riverside, a teaching hospital for the University of Minnesota medical school, was less than we’d hoped it would be. When I gave birth there in April of 1998, their medical staff did not administer epidurals. Instead, I received
a spinal block that lasted 90 minutes, a drop in the bucket given the long labor I experienced.
We also found the nursing staff, for the most part (although there were one or two notable exceptions), cold and clinical, which was not particularly reassuring to two nervous, first-
time parents.

“Maybe we could have chosen someplace that felt less like a factory and more like a care facility. To describe the care as indifferent is too harsh, but it was damn close. Maybe ‘detached’ is better. It was sort of like waiting in line to
ride a giant roller-coaster for the first time: you’re scared, you’re excited, you don’t really know what to expect or how it all works, but you’re willing to go along. And the guys running the thing are just doing the job. They’re strapping you in and making their announcements and sending you down the track. You kind of want them to be excited with you, to share the experience, to talk about
it and gush about it and squeal about it just like you’re doing. But they’ve seen a million people ride this damn thing and will see a million more and while they truly want to keep you safe, they really just want to get you going and send you on your way.”¹

We went into the hospital on Monday morning when I sprang a small leak. They admitted me later that morning. When labor didn’t progress very quickly, a couple of hours later, they broke my water for me. Even that didn’t do much, however, and at 5 that evening, they put me on a pitocin drip, worried that without amniotic fluid, infection could set in. One doctor told me reassuringly as he left for the day that he was fairly confident I would have a baby by 8 p.m. that evening. As it turned out, Grace wasn’t delivered until after 1 a.m., and she came only after the delivering physician used one half of a pair of forceps to pop her sizable head (at birth she would weigh nine pounds, seven ounces) up and over my pelvic bone, where it had been lodged for a very long time. The physical taxation was nothing we would blame on our caregivers, but the clinical, impersonal care we received—and which I personally believe resulted in a longer, more uncomfortable labor—would rankle for a very long time. I berated myself for opting not to have a doula, a woman to support me through my labor and delivery, and was delighted to see confirmed in an article in the Journal of American Medicine, what women have known intuitively for eons: that having another women present during the birth process can shorten labor.

“The association between acute maternal anxiety and disturbances in the progress of labor is strongly suggested by studies of human and animal mothers. Circulating catecholamines [fight-or-flight hormones] may be the mechanism by which anxiety influences the course of labor…In humans, an increased level of catecholamines as a result of maternal anxiety has been shown to decrease uterine contractility... a supportive companion may reduce catecholamine levels by reducing maternal anxiety and facilitating uterine contractile activity and uterine blood flow. A doula may decrease maternal anxiety by her interactions with the laboring woman—her constant presence, physical touch, reassurance, explanations, and anticipatory guidance. These aspects of doula support may make the laboring woman feel safer and calmer, needing less obstetric intervention for labor to proceed smoothly.”²

Reading this information didn’t surprise me in the least, but I found myself smiling
with satisfaction to see such an intuitive and relatively obvious phenomenon validated
by science.

A Home Birth Experience

Hoping to hear an upbeat birth story, I called my friend Eileen Myers, who gave birth to her eldest daughter Sena at home. A local massage therapist, Eileen gave birth in her former father-in-law’s house, under the care of two mid-wives. She and her ex-husband opted to give birth in a home rather than a hospital setting for two reasons.

“At the time, we had no insurance. We were young and self-employed,” she said. “And a part of us didn’t believe in giving birth in a hospital. I had always felt like I wanted to have a home birth. I thought, ‘I’m not sick. I don’t want to be in a hospital.’ We just felt in our hearts this was how we wanted to have our baby.”

She located a pair of mid-wives who had been delivering babies together for more than 20 years, and went to their home for pre-natal check-ups. There, the mid-wives weighed and measured her and checked her blood pressure. She had no ultrasound during her pregnancy. Eileen’s former father-in-law owned a home with a whirlpool in Osseo, so Eileen and her husband at the time, Paul, opted to give birth there so that Eileen could spend at least a portion of her labor in the pool. She labored without the presence of her mid-wives beginning about 5:30 one morning.

“A lot of the birthing part I did on my own,” she says. “It was pretty intense, but I did it. I didn’t know anything else.” She spent much of the day she was in labor cooking and taking short trips out into the yard. “I’d just go outside and breathe the air. And I tried to rest in between contractions, but that was hard.”

When she was inside for good and the labor had become more intense, Eileen labored in the nude, which she told me was a very natural choice for her. Her mid-wives arrived around 1 a.m. and the process began to ramp up.

“When Jeannine and Jan came, that’s when I felt like things started to happen. My body was waiting for them to be there, and they were great. They talked me through the whole thing. They were very nurturing.”

She labored in the whirlpool for several hours. As labor intensified through the early hours of the morning, the women gave her spoonfuls of honey between contractions to help bring her energy and blood sugar levels up. They also constantly soothed and encouraged her, saying things like, “You’re doing really well, Eileen. The baby’s fine. The heart beat is strong. Ride the waves.
Do your breathing,” she says.

She had rented a birthing stool, but found that by the time she wanted to use it, her contractions were so intense and coming so close together that she couldn’t get into it. “At one point I thought, ‘Is this baby ever going to come out?’ Finally, I somehow managed to get in that chair and did one push and she flew right out.” The mid-wives put her new daughter Sena on her chest and swaddled mother and babe up together immediately, skin to skin.

When all was said and done, Eileen’s labor had lasted approximately 24 hours. She had torn a little bit, and one of the midwives stitched her up. The pair also made and applied cold herbal compresses to her perineum to bring down swelling. Eileen used helichrysum, an essential oil, to numb pain. Ultimately, the mid-wives made two home visits after the birth to check up on her and her new family.

“We were blessed that it all went well. It was all natural. And Sena was born in her grandpa’s home, which is kind of cool,” Eileen says. “It was an incredible experience.”³

A Doula’s Take on Birth

Rebecca Feyder, a doula who works out of St. Paul, got her start in the birth business six
years ago, beginning her training just six weeks after the birth of her daughter. After the birth, she tells me:

“I felt like a superwoman. It was the best experience of my life and I was just crazy in awe of myself those first couple of weeks. I had done something that I didn’t think was possible. I became a doula because I wanted to get back into the birth world. I felt like I needed to find more women like me, women who didn’t know they had it in them. I want women to feel like superheroes, to come away from giving birth feeling strengthened, feeling like they’re the strongest, most amazing people in the world, that they can do anything!”

A doula’s role is to provide information, physical comfort measures, and emotional support before, during and in some cases after the birth. “Doulas,” Rebecca says, “are waist-up, whereas mid-wives are waist-down.”

One primary difference between a doula and a healthcare provider is that a doula generally gets to know the family a bit more than the medical providers do. Doulas can become involved at any time in the pre-birth process, depending on when a family opts to hire one. Most doulas conduct two or three pre-natal visits. The initial visit is one-to-two-hour long consultation appointment where the care-giver and prospective families chat. Based on how well both parties believe that visit has gone, the doula may be hired. Getting to know one another heightens the sense of trust between a doula and a birthing family. After the initial consultation and a decision to hire, a doula and family usually have at least two pre-natal visits, each about two hours long. The mom-to-be, family members and the doula discuss fears, hopes and concerns during these early visits. On the second visit, Feyder discusses comfort measures and optimal fetal positioning. She and her clients practice massage, hip squeezes, and learning how to use a birth ball. They spend a lot of time talking about the pregnancy. Feyder joins a family in labor whenever they want her to come, she says, generally toward the end of early labor or at the start of active labor.

Rebecca doesn’t provide post-partum doula services, although some doulas do. She does visit each of her mothers at least once within a month of their baby’s birth. She takes pictures during the birth, so at that visit they’ll look at pictures and talk about the birth. She also provides what this mother considers one of the most critical services any mother can have: a genuine desire to hear the birth story from the new mother’s perspective. She’ll also talk with families about sleep and sleeping arrangements, breast-feeding, and the possibility of post-partum depression.

She received her certification through DONA (Doulas of North America) International, the largest doula-certifying organization in the country. Her schooling included a two-day, hands-on training seminar in which she learned basic physiology, psychology, comfort measures, massage techniques, and standards of practice. She was required to attend a childbirth education class. In order to fulfill her initial training prerequisites, she was required to attend a minimum of three births, and to be present from a certain dilation point onward. Afterward, family members, doctors, nurses, and midwives present were solicited for feedback and rated her skills. She completed reports on each birth, outlining everything that happened and all interventions used over the course of labor and delivery, to prove that she was educated about the birth process.
Her reports and feedback from other parties was submitted to DONA before she was certified. Since Rebecca was certified six years ago, DONA has added a breast-feeding training requirement, as well. Doulas are required to attend continuing education classes to become recertified every three years.

Feyder says doulas are part of the birthing mainstream in the Twin Cities area, which has the highest number of doula-attended births of any major population center in the country. This is
a trend she’s seen evolve over the past decade.

“We’re not the crunchy fringe group people used to think we were years
ago. The birth community has changed in the Twin Cities. It used to be so medical and stale. A lot of people forgot that birth was a family event. Now,
it’s more progressive and people are realizing just how important this event
is in their lives. It isn’t necessarily about having a natural birth but about being supported and having what you need around you to feel supported.”

Hiring a doula in the Twin Cities today generally runs between $500 and $1,000. When broken out into an hourly wage, this recompense is by no means a livable wage, so many doulas work full-time jobs elsewhere. In an industry where a non-complicated hospital birth starts at approximately $10,000 and climbs rapidly from there, it seems grossly unfair that a doula-accompanied birth, which brings down the c-section rate by half, should pay those who provide this valuable service so little.

Feyder shared several wonderful birth stories with me during the course of our interview. In one instance, she watched the birth of a baby boy whose head had emerged. As everyone in the room awaited the contraction that would expel him into the world, the baby craned his head to one side and looked directly at his father. “It was the most amazing thing,” she says. “He just turned and looked right at his father… Somehow, they know.”

In another situation, she recalls attending a birth that was memorable for its tranquility. Though there were several people present in the room, “no one said a word,” Rebecca says. “It was the most peaceful thing in the world. The doctor didn’t say anything, the mother was quiet, the
other people in the room were quiet, and then out she came and went right onto her mom’s
belly. This baby didn’t even cry. It was the most calm, serene birth I’ve ever seen.”

Rebecca has also witnessed births where women have lost their babies. “We got into this field because we are so passionate about the world of birth,” she says. “I think one of the things we have a hard time with is that birth and death are so close together. We’ve all been present at births that don’t end the way we want or expect them to and that’s really hard. It makes you realize that you can’t be part of birth without being part of the world of death, as well.”⁴

Those instances don’t keep her from remembering why she got into this field in the first place, though. The word that comes up repeatedly in my conversation with Rebecca is “passion.”
I end my phone conversation with her with much to process.

Personal Learnings

I come away from my interviews with these three people and their widely divergent perspectives on the birth experience with a more well-rounded understanding of my own. I have received precious gifts from each of them. From my husband, I have gleaned two things. First, he has validated me by sharing his views on the care we received at the hospital during our daughter’s birth. It was not, unfortunately, top-notch. We delivered there based on insurance coverage and our relative youth. Were we to do it again, we agree we would do it differently. During the course of our interview, he also shared with me his truth about how parent- and fatherhood were abstract concepts until he could actually touch our daughter and count her ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. What he had to say on that score both fascinated and unsettled me.

From my friend Eileen, I take away a first-hand account of a woman who was delighted with the way the birth of her daughter evolved. Every aspect of her labor and delivery—the excellent care her mid-wives provided, her labor in the whirlpool, her use a birthing stool to help her body do what it was meant to do, and ultimately having a healthy, safe home birth—renewed my faith in modern obstetric care and in the wisdom of the body. And from doula extraordinaire Rebecca Feyder, I learn that there are woman out there who are not only glad to assist and support laboring mothers, but who do it because it is one of their grand passions, who consider this service one of their very reasons for being. I wish I had met and hired her 13 years ago.

I am grateful to each of these remarkable people for providing me an alternate lens through which I might view my own experience. Looking through them, however briefly, has facilitated the beginnings of my own healing.

Sources

¹ Busse, Chris. Personal INTERVIEW. 6 December 2010.

² Kennell, John, et al. “Continuous Emotional Support During Labor in a US Hospital: A Randomized Controlled Trial.” The Journal of the American Medical Association. 1991: 265.17.2197-2201.

³ Myers, Eileen. Personal INTERVIEW. 8 December 2010.

⁴ Feyder, Rebecca. Personal INTERVIEW. 9 December 2010.

The World According to Bel - February 20th, 2011

2011-02-21T18:29:00.001-06:00

You're right mom, you do have old lady hands.

The World According to Andrew - February 12th, 2011

2011-02-14T08:00:00.001-06:00

I hope Walter has a friend named Nate. Then they can Walter Nate.

Enormous Balls

2011-02-14T08:00:00.000-06:00

This is an image of a bumper sticker. I want this bumper sticker.

The World According to Bel & Frank - February 12th, 2011

2011-02-13T15:09:00.000-06:00

Frank: Cheez Its make you feel better. (We've been sick around here.)

Bel: Well, Cheez Itz are made with cheese. Cheese is made from dairy. And dairy is good for you. So, you are right, Frank!

No Freak Show Here

2011-02-12T18:09:00.000-06:00

I remember a movie I saw while living in Spain called Tesis. I think I'm spelling that right - my Spanish language skills have gone down the toilet with much of my brain's capacity since kids have sucked up all my brain energy. Anyway, it means "Thesis." The movie was about snuff films. Do you know what those are? Snuff films are movies of real human pain, torture, and murder. I'm not talking about portrayals of murder. I'm talking about real murder. Did you know there's a clientele for that? That's what the main character's thesis is about in the movie: why do we all slow down to look at car wrecks? Why are we curious about morbid things like death and injuries to others? Why do we look? Why can't we look away?

This is what was running through my mind when Bel got her ears pierced a few weeks ago. Once she hopped into the chair (you know the one) at Claire's in the mall, a crowd formed to watch. What were they hoping to see? I recall a time when Bel and I watched a girl get her ears pierced. We watched so that Bel could see what it was like so that she could make an informed decision about her own ear piercing. That wasn't the case here. One pair of witnesses was a dad and his daughter who had just pierced her ears a few weeks before. The rest? A rag tag group of viewers, none of whom seemed to have any logical reason to watch a little girl get her ears pierced. Unless...

They were there for snuff.

I think they wanted to see Bel suffer.

I think they were hoping for tears and pain - a real show, you know?

The Claire's ladies gunned-up and pierced her ears.

(All the while every teenager in the store took advantage of the distracted clerks and kiped whatever they could get in their pockets. But that's another post.)

Bel's ear piercing is a culmination of a series of events. Bel got her ears pierced for the first time when she was four, but one earring was ripped out a few days later when she was playing. We couldn't get it back in, and she chose not to re-pierce it. Since then we've talked about getting them pierced again, leaving the decision to her. At one point she said, "Maybe when I'm six... or seven... or maybe eight... or nine. No, I'll be ten." I told her that she could choose when, and when she was ready, I'd take her to get it done. We planned to wait two days or two decades. This was Bel's choice to make, not ours.

Then one day she said, "I'm not ready today, but Mom, will you ask me every day starting tomorrow if I'm ready?" She had a worried look on her face. She seemed to be wrestling with the decision. She knew she wanted to pierce her ears. I think she knew she was ready. But she was still afraid.

The next day she reminded me to ask her. I did. She said, "No, mom. I'm not ready today. I'm still scared." I asked her each day after that for a while as she had requested. Then, on that fateful Saturday, I woke to Miss Bel's face. She looked at me, and without so much as a "good morning," she said, "Mom, today I'm ready. I want to pierce my ears." I responded, "Okay, my dear. Let's go today." Then I went back to sleep, because really, I need every minute of sleep these days.

We went to the mall. Andrew didn't think she'd go through with it. I wasn't sure. The only thing I was confident of was that there would be tears. I figured there'd be tears if she backed out, tears as she confronted the reality of getting into that chair, or tears of fear or pain after the guns were fired.

We were both wrong. She had worked through her fears so that when we got to Claire's, she had no doubts, no fears, and no second guesses. She just got into that chair, counted to three, and got her ears pierced without a flinch or a tear.

Boy did she let those snuff-seakers down.

Walter - Nine Months

2011-02-10T17:52:00.002-06:00

Walter: The Toothless Wonder! Indeed. He still has this huge, gummy, toothless grin. He'll be in Little League before he gets any teeth. We love it, though. He just smiles and smiles. That is, except when he's coughing. We've all been sick the last few weeks, so this face is pretty common:

Not only is Walter short on teeth, but pparently he is short on outfits, too. I just noticed he's wearing the same outfit in his nine month photos as in his eight month photo. Poor Walt. It's bad enough to forever be stuck with Frank's hand-me-downs, but it's worse by the apparent fact that there aren't many of them! That, or he takes after his dad and wears the same outfit every day until eternity.

Walter is crawling everywhere, and just last night he pulled himself up to standing for the first time. He did that in the bath, and the slippery tub bottom caused his feet to slowly slide out sideways from under him, and he ended up in a split. His pride overruled his discomfort, though, and gave us his huge, toothless, gummy grin.

Walter - Eight Months

2011-01-23T09:15:00.000-06:00

Walter at eight months can be summed up in one word: moving.

Okay, two words: moving & joyful.

The World According to Bel & Frank - January 22nd, 2011

2011-01-22T14:30:00.001-06:00

Bel: Frank, do you know what day it is?

Frank: Friday!

Bel: That's right, Frank! It's Friday!

(It's Saturday today.)

Frank: Yeah! Today is "Hat Day."

Bel: What is "Hat Day"?

Frank: It's when you bring an animal to school that hibernates.

Worldless Wednesday

2011-01-19T07:32:00.000-06:00

He Crawls!

2011-01-16T09:37:00.003-06:00

Walter started crawling last week. I was the last to see it. The daycare teachers saw it first. Andrew and the kids saw it next. I finally got to see it last night. (There is a bit of mommy guilt in that.)

Babies' first efforts at crawling are usually funny. Walter's were no exception. At first he looked gimpy because he has learned to crawl from sitting versus from playing on his belly. Now he's finally figured out to unfold his crossed legs, which is what has finally given him the propulsion he needed. This video, taken last night, actually captures the first time I saw Walter crawl, so it's pretty special to me, even with its crash landing ending.

The World According to Frank - December 30th, 2010

2011-01-16T09:17:00.003-06:00

For my birthday I want a big bag of money.

The World According to Frank - January 15th, 2011

2011-01-16T08:02:00.005-06:00

Frank: I can talk with all kinds of words. Walter is just learning his words. He's learning words like... like... hot dogs, and... cheese hot dogs, and... hot dogs. Walter, can you say, "cheese hot dog"?

Walter: Deh.

(Frank has been on a roll lately. He is seriously cracking us up these days.)

The World According to Frank - January 7th, 2011

2011-01-16T07:30:00.000-06:00

Dad: Frank, when did you get to be such a big boy?

Frank: (holding up three fingers) Thursdays!

The World According to Frank - January 6th, 2011

2011-01-15T07:30:00.000-06:00

You stole my heart! Now I need to find a nudder one.

The World According to Bel - January 13th, 2011

2011-01-14T07:27:00.002-06:00

(After a dinner where she didn't eat much.)

You guys want to know a secret? I actually have two stomachs. One is for food and one is for dessert. My food stomach is already full, but my ice cream stomach has a lot of room!

Bib Hater

2011-01-10T08:00:00.000-06:00

Walter - Seven Months Old

2011-01-06T08:00:00.004-06:00

Now that Walter is almost eight months old, I should publish his seven month photo, right? He turned seven months on December 10th. He is fully immersed in the world around him and is ready to move with it. He's been sitting up since mid-November, and around the same time he started getting up onto his hands-and-knees and rocking like he was ready to crawl. Since then he's grown so fond of sitting that he hates - I mean HATES - to be on his tummy. I think it's because when he is on his tummy and tries to get to a toy he wants, he can only move backwards away from the toy. When he's sitting, he can get pretty much whatever he wants within a three foot range. I suspect Walter will never crawl. He'll probably just scoot around on his butt like an ape and then stand up and walk.

Walter is such a happy guy, and he loves his brother and sister. He looks at them with such admiration.

Happy Birthday, Belén!

2011-01-04T19:45:00.001-06:00

It was Bel's sixth birthday last week. (Seventh if you count her actual birth day, but we don't do that in our culture. We only count anniversaries. But I digress.)

I could write for days here about all the exciting, wonderful things Bel is doing these days. We are so proud of how grown up she is, how she's learning to read, how she's a free thinker, how she is good at and interested in math, how she is trying new things with gusto, how she is just plain growing up. I could, but I won't. Those of you who know her have seen these things. Let's just enjoy some fun photos and videos of our six year old girl.

Dressing up is always fun.

Miss Bel was a reindeer in the St. Paul City Ballet's Enchanted Toy Shop production this year.

Birthday Party!

sledding with friends at her birthday party

This is Maren. Bel has known Maren her entire life - a whole, whopping six years. They are two weeks apart in age. Bel and Maren used to go out to eat together all the time, like to mall breastfeeding rooms.

This is Bel and Ava sledding at Bel's birthday party. Ava is three years old and really looks up to Bel. I have a special place for Ava in my heart. I was there when she was born, when her brother Henry was born, and when her brother Walter was born.

Finally, here is a video of Miss Bel reading a story she wrote. I'm going to come back to this one when she's sixteen and driving us crazy. Good memories...

2009 Twin Cities Hospital Cesarean Rates

2011-01-03T15:49:00.009-06:00

Here are the 2009 cesarean rates for hospitals in the Twin Cities. I changed things up a bit this year. Instead of going highest to lowest, I'm going lowest to highest so that the list reads more like a "top ten" list. The "best" in regards to cesarean rates are listed at the top. That does not mean, of course, that these are the best hospitals for birth. That decision is made by parents, because parents know which hospital is best for them and their baby.

The average cesarean rate for all Twin Cities hospitals in 2009 was 28 percent, which is a one percent increase from 2008. The rate fell the year before, so the rates has remained pretty steady the last few years.

For the most part, the individual hospital rates are unchanged from previous years. If rates went up in 2008, they tended to decline for 2009. Exceptions to that are Mercy Hospital, which decreased two years in a row; HCMC, which increased two years in a row; Fairview Lakes, which decreased two years in a row; and Fairview Ridges, which increased two years in a row.

Fairview Ridges and Fairview University had the sharpest increases at four and five percent respectively. I've talked with a colleague who is affiliated with Fairview to find out what may have triggered the increases there. For those who don't know, Fairview has implemented some quality measures designed to improve birth outcomes (the Zero Birth Injury initiative). The cesarean rates should have dropped during that period. She and I are checking into the data and some other factors to see if we can determine why the rates increased so sharply during the initiative. I'll post updates if I have any.

I've also asked doula colleagues about why some hospitals have higher rates than others. There is still a lot of discussion around "high risk" hospitals. My opinion (emphasis on opinion) is that there are two contributing factors to the still-increasing cesarean rates at the Twin Cities' "high risk" hospitals (United and Abbott). The first is that they take on the bulk of the high risk pregnancies and babies in the Twin Cities and and around the rest of Minnesota and western Wisconsin. They'll have a higher number of these pregnancies, while the other hospitals have fewer to none. I'm not sure of the statistical significance of these pregnancies, so I can't speak in an educated way of the degree of impact these births have on the overall rate. (In other words, are these hospitals taking enough high risk pregnancies and births to cause an increase in their cesarean rates to the point where they are nearly double the rest of the area's hospitals?)

The second contributing factor is due to the fact that these hospitals specialize in high risk pregnancies. Essentially, they manage high risk pregnancies and births well, and they apply the same standard of care to mothers with normal pregnancies. In other words, they treat healthy mothers and babies as if they are in danger. The staff are so used to mothers and babies needing medical care that they don't really know how to let a normal birth progress without medical intervention, and as we know, medical intervention in birth leads to more cesareans.

Here you go. As a reminder, the purple-coded hospitals are those with midwife-attended births.

1. St. Joseph's (St. Paul) - 12% (+1%)

2. HCMC (Minneapolis) - 22% (+1%)

3. Regions (St. Paul) - 23% (+1%)

4. St. John's (Maplewood) - 23% (+2%)

5. Mercy (Coon Rapids) - 24% (-1%)

6. North Memorial (Robbinsdale) - 24% (+2%)

7. Unity (Fridley) - 24% (+1%)

8. St. Francis (Shakopee) - 25% (+1%)

9. Woodwinds (Woodbury) - 25% (+1%)

10. Lakeview Hospital (Stillwater) - 26% (-1%)

11. Methodist (St. Louis Park) - 26% (+2%)

12. Fairview Lakes (Wyoming) - 27% (-2%)

13. Northfield Hospital - 28% (-1%)

14. Fairview University/Riverside (Minneapolis) - 31% (+4%)

15. Fairview Ridges (Burnsville) - 33% (+5%)

16. Fairview Southdale (Edina) - 33% (-1%)

17. United (St. Paul) - 34% (no change)

18. Abbott Northwestern (Minneapolis) - 37% (+1%)

To see previous years' rates, go here: 2008 2007

Merry Christmas From The Feyders

2010-12-24T11:31:00.003-06:00

There are so many things I love about this Christmas. It's Walter's first Christmas. Frank is finding new ways to make us laugh - just look at him in this picture! Oh, and there's his ritual of sticking his finger in our ears while exclaiming, "Christmas, for KIDS!" What does that mean? And Bel is starting to ask tough questions about Santa Claus. At first she thought this Santa was just "a helper" and not the real guy because "his beard is too small." Later, though, she proclaimed him to be the real thing because "his beard is exactly like the real Santa" in The Miracle on 34th Street. I wonder what she'll think when Santa doesn't bring her exactly what she asks for...

Merry Christmas, everyone!

The World According to Bel - December 23rd, 2010

2010-12-24T09:00:00.003-06:00

Andrew: (He says this to me while the family was watching a Christmas movie with a bad guy.) That actor always plays a d-i-c-k.

Bel: What does that mean? What did you spell, Daddy?

Mom: A bad word, Bel.

Bel: Is it the s-word?

Andrew: Do you know the s-word, Bel?

Bel: Yes.

Mom: You do?!

Andrew: What is it?

Bel: I don't want to say. It's a bad word.

Andrew: Say it, Bel.

Bel: No.

Andrew: I want to know what the word is. You can say it here, Bel. It's okay because I'm asking you to say it quietly to me.

Bel: Okay. (whispering) The s-word is: stupid.

The World According to Frank - December 16th, 2010

2010-12-24T08:58:00.001-06:00

My new teacher's name is normal!

(Her name is Norma.)

The World According to Bel - December 11th, 2010

2010-12-16T20:24:00.003-06:00

Look! It's Robok Obama and Santa Claus!

(Said while watching the news and seeing a press conference with President Barack Obama and President Bill Clinton. Clinton is looking a bit old, white-haired, and rosy-cheeked these days, isn't he?)

Walter - Six Months

2010-12-01T09:00:00.000-06:00

Walter! What is Walter up to at six months? He's sitting up on his own, which he loves. When he's on his tummy, he gets up onto his hands and knees and rocks back and forth. He's ready to crawl. When he sees a toy or person in front of him that he wants to reach, he maneuvers his limbs to get closer to it. Unfortunately, these maneuvers serve only to propel him backwards, which frustrates the guy.

At about his six month birthday Walter started to talk. He started with "bah bah bah" and moved to "dah dah dah." Now he has his own language of sounds.

The other big news on the Walter front is that he's growing hair. (This obviously happened after his six month picture above.) It's as if he went to bed bald and woke up the next day with a full head of hair. It's adorable and makes him look older. I love that it's brown and fluffy - totally different than Bel's wild tufts and Frank's blonde curls.

The best part is that he also now has eyebrows and eyelashes. Even Bel noticed that when he was first born, Walter was hairless except some fuzz on the top of his head. She asked why he didn't have any eyelashes and eyebrows. He looked quite weird. The weirdest part was that he had eyebrow ridges that would move and furrow, only they were bald. They looked like naked little caterpillars above his eyes. When they furrowed, they would pop out of his forehead and turn white, balder than bald. It's nice now that they have hair and look like real eyebrows.

The fun is just beginning.

The World According to Frank - November 28, 2010

2010-11-30T08:57:00.002-06:00

Mom: Frank, when we ask you what you did at school, you always say you played with cars. I have a challenge for you. Tomorrow at school, I challenge you to play with toys other than cars. Can you try that?

Frank: (Looking confused and disgusted) Okay. I can play with trains.

(Note: After school the following day, I asked Frank how his challenge went. He said he played with construction toys. When I probed a bit, I discovered that this meant he played with construction trucks. Does this count as meeting his challenge?)

Fun Stuff From Missy

2010-11-08T15:45:00.004-06:00

Missy from marketingmama.com has had some fun posts lately that I feel the need to share. First, I forgot to post my own doula Q&A that she posted a while back where I answered questions about VBAC, waterbirth, and Hypnobirthing. Check it out!

Second, today Missy posted a Q&A about breastfeeding. Since breastfeeding is close to my heart (ba-boom, chang!), I have to share this. Sally Wendkos Olds, author of The Complete Book of Breastfeeding, answered questions from Missy's readers, including me. If you are breastfeeding or hope to be someday, this is a great read.

Next, Missy was mentioned in a Star Tribune article today about bloggers. Way to go, Missy!

Finally, Missy recently posted on her name dilemma - how she grew up "Missy, become "Melissa" as a young professional and now has a personality disorder because she goes by both names. I understand that. I grew up as "Becky" but began to go by "Rebecca" when I joined the workforce. Now half my world calls me Becky and the other half Rebecca. Both groups get confused when they interact because the Rebecca world doesn't know who Becky is, and vice versa. I'm not as brave as Missy, though, and have no plans to reconcile the name confusion any time soon. Sorry, friends.

The World According to Frank - November 6th, 2010

2010-11-06T21:00:00.000-05:00

I need to learn to sleep with my eyes open. I want to see EVERYTHING.

The World According to Bel - November 5th, 2010

2010-11-06T18:35:00.002-05:00

I'm ready for a new house. I've seen every corner of this house. It's like underwear. Sometimes you need to change your underwear. Old underwear gets uncomfortable and greasy and sweaty, like our house. When you change underwear, it feels fresh. That's why I think we need a new house.

Dear Blogland, I Miss You

2010-10-24T10:52:00.003-05:00

Remember that post from way back last spring, before I become a mother of three, where I wondered aloud on this blog whether I'd have time to blog after Darth was born and I returned to work? Well, we've found out the answer.

I have no time to blog.

When I'm not at work, I'm at home holding Walter. He's in a phase where I can't put him down, especially in the evenings when it's bedtime. The old me would have panicked and sought a "solution" to this "problem" with Walter. The current me knows that this phase is temporary and that we'll be able to put Walter down to sleep in the evenings again someday. I also know that this adorable baby stage where he loves to cuddle at night is temporary, too, and I'm taking the time to enjoy the moments, even on those nights when I want nothing more than to have a few minutes non-mommy time.

I think of all you bloggie friends often and try to keep up with you. I often can't comment on your posts when I read them if Walter's in my arms. I just read. Please know I am here and keeping up with you.

As far as my blog goes, I am making a point of putting up Walter's month-by-month photos and the Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed posts, but the rest will have to keep rolling around in my mind until my non-working hours actually become free time. I expect there will be a massive brain download of blog posts when that happens. You have been fairly warned.

Walter - Five Months

2010-10-16T12:00:00.000-05:00

My house is an absolute mess. Every room is full of toys, kids' clothes, books, and random stuff the kids have pulled out of drawers. Andrew and I don't have the energy or the time to keep up with the cleaning.

We just try to keep from drowning, and we we let it go. We try to just let it go...

The fact of the matter is that we have to let go of the need to tidy up. If we didn't, we'd never see our kids, and we'd miss Walter's baby months. We know how fast these months pass, so we are enjoying every single moment. We are eating up every wonderful moment, watching for those memorable changes in Walter, changes that mark his maturing into his own being.

Walter loves the world around him. He is a thoroughly entertained spectator of life. Unlike his sister, he doesn't seem anxious to join the activities of the world, rather he seems to relish in simply observing.

Nothing demonstrates this better than Walter's sleeping habits. He naps a bit during the day. When he's home, though, with us and his brother and sister, he has no interest in going to bed. He will hang out wide awake and happy until late at night. We've tried the early bedtime, which I know helps most babies since they usually do best going to bed for the night around this time. We tried to put him to bed at 6:30 for a while. Then we tried 7:00. We tried other times, both before and after the other kids' bedtimes. If he would get drowsy or sleepy, which he sometimes did, he wouldn't sleep for more than a few minutes. A short snooze, and he'd bolt upright to see what's going on. We are following his cues now, and it seems he just doesn't get tired for the night until about 9:00.

So, what else is new? He's squealing and laughing. He's still mostly bald with a cue ball for a head. And he's at that age where he'll grab anything within a two foot radius and stuff it in his mouth.

This grabbing-and-stuffing-in-the-mouth thing can be funny at times. Yesterday, for example, I was panties shopping. It was pretty funny when Walter would inevitably get a handful of panties and stuff them in his mouth. I laughed and said, "Gee, Walter, you love boobs and panties. You are such a boy."

His favorite thing to stuff in his mouth? His feet. His diapers are a bit restrictive to his movements, so when he gets naked time, he goes bonkers over his feet. Check it out for yourself.

If you can tolerate the low lighting, the video shows it best:

The World According to Bel - October 5th, 2010

2010-10-15T10:00:00.000-05:00

Boys like toys that hurt people. Girls like gentle toys, like kittens. Girls want to pet kittens. Boys want to kill them.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-10-13T08:00:00.000-05:00

Here we are in an apple orchard. I'm breastfeeding Walter while eating an apple in an apple orchard.

Okay, in full disclosure, this is a bit staged. It's true that I'm breastfeeding Walter while eating an apple in an apple orchard. He really needed to eat while we were standing there, and I'm really feeding him in the photo. I didn't continue to feed him there, though. I asked Andrew to snap a photo of the moment. Then I went and sat at a nearby picnic table for the rest of Walt's feast and mine.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity, though. Our adventures continue.

Are You Distracted? I Am.

2010-10-06T17:00:00.001-05:00

I have a problem. I talk on my phone while driving. I do it because it's convenient. With the kids, work and a house to manage, I have no time to talk on the phone. The only time I can catch up with my mom and maybe a friend or two is while I'm driving to or from work. I always answer my phone if one of my doula clients calls me while I'm driving.

I know this is dangerous. I just can't seem to stop. I've tried setting a self-imposed no-phone rule for myself, but I always seem to break it. I've been good in that I never text, email, or web-browse while driving. But still, talking on the phone while driving is dangerous, for me and for all of you out there on the road with me.

Today I am publicly vowing to change my unsafe behavior: I will not talk on the phone while driving. You all can hold me accountable.

Below is a video everyone should watch. Maybe you've already seen it - it's been floating around out there for a while. I first saw it a while back, and it left an impression with me. If you haven't yet seen it, watch it now. It's difficult to watch, but everyone should see this.

Watch it.

What do you think? Do you get while we all need to hang up and drive?

Will you take the pledge with me?

If you won't do it for yourself, consider doing it for my three kids. Look up at the banner on my blog. See how cute and precious they are? I want to keep them safe, and to do so, I need you to be a safe driver, too.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-10-05T17:00:00.001-05:00

This is a great one. Here I am feeding Walter while ordering and paying for ice cream at our local ice cream joint. I had started to feed him as we were walking there. I forgot he was nursing and just walked up to the window, ordered for the whole family, and paid for the treats. It wasn't until I was trying to put all the change in the pocket on my Ergo carrier that I realized I had been breastfeeding Walter the whole time. I quickly turned to Andrew and said, "Get a photo of this!"

I don't think the high school kid who took my order had any idea...

The World According to Bel - October 4, 2010

2010-10-04T21:30:00.002-05:00

For my birthday, can I get a piñata? Can I get a Barbie piñata? Can I use a Barbie to hit my Barbie piñata?

(Mom: Please do.)

If It Ain't Broke, Frank'll Unfix It

2010-09-19T20:00:00.000-05:00

Ever since we had our basement remodeled last year Frank has been a fixer man. He got a tool kit for Christmas, and he loves it. He uses the power drill to scrape up our once nicely painted walls. He also makes tools out of things he finds around the house and "fixes" things. For example, he uses a crayon to fix jammed locks, leaving the crayon tips in the locks, and he'll hit the wall with anything that makes a hammer-on-nail sound.

If it seems to you that Frank is doing more unfixing than fixing around here, you're right. He's pretty clever and thoughtful about it, though. Sometimes he encounters a situation he thinks requires a fix, and while his intention is to fix it, his work often results in an unfix. For example, Frank has struggled to open our back door from the outside. He can't push the button on the handle and pull it at the same time. He thought the door needed to be fixed. Well, his solution fixed his problem but generally unfixed the door. See for yourself:

The World According to Bel - September 15, 2010

2010-09-15T19:56:00.003-05:00

While watching the Twins:

Mom: Bel, do you know who's batting?

Bel: Kevin Slowey.

(Slowey is a pitcher. The Twins play in the American League where the pitchers don't bat.)

Mom: Actually, that's Danny Valencia. He's a spectacular player, Bel. Watch him bat. [quiet time to watch the at bat] I think Danny Valencia is handsome. What do you think, Bel?

Bel: I don't think so. His eyes are a little too low and a little too high for me.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-09-14T08:00:00.001-05:00

The first photo is of me feeding Walter at a light rail train platform waiting for our train.

These next two photos are from the State Fair. This is the only year Walter will eat healthy food at the Fair, I'm sure. I love the second photo where he has taken a break from eating to look up and smile at me. It shows how breastfeeding (or bottle feeding if you hold your baby while feeding him) is about so much more than eating. It's about taking time to focus on your baby. When you do, he focuses on you, too. You can fall in love all over again.

Walter - Four Months Old

2010-09-11T16:26:00.004-05:00

Walter is a happy four month old. His smile stretches all the way to his toes. Look at them all splayed out with joy!

Walter celebrated his four month birthday with his first cold. He started daycare last week when Andrew returned to work from his paternity leave. His new friends said, "Welcome to the infant room, Walter! Here is a virus! Enjoy!" So it begins - the year of illness. Daycare parents know that the first year in daycare is often one of endless snot and fevers. It seems Walter's first year will be no different.

Walter's latest development is his interest in toys. This started in the last week. He loves to grab at a toy, and he'll hold and chew on it for a surprisingly long period of time. His favorite toy right now is a squeaky giraffe toy a friend of mine gave him. He's like a puppy playing with his squeaky chew toy.

I celebrated Walter's fourth birthday by attending my first doula birth since he was born. I remembered his birth while encouraging, massaging, and holding this mama as she worked her way through birth much like I did just four months ago. I left the hospital with an overwhelming sense of peace and returned home to a smiley, cuddly, snot-nosed Walter.

A Trip to the Cavin - Highlights

2010-09-01T17:00:00.002-05:00

I mentioned recently that Molly, a doula client turned friend, lets us use her family cabin in exchange for my doula services. Our first trip was three years ago when Bel was two-and-a-half and Frank was just two months old. It was such a wonderful week. Bel was so young, yet she remembers minute details about that trip. She would talk about about our trip to the "cavin," as she pronounced it, and wondered when we could go back again.

Well, dear Molly now has two beautiful children, and the Feyder's have had two amazing trips to that "cavin." It's one of those places that is so perfectly remote and cozy that your family can't help but make beautiful memory after beautiful memory. When we left this time, Bel cried. I explained why we can't go back every week or every month or every year. She asked if Molly could have more babies. (Molly, my daughter's happiness depends on you.)

Here are some photo memories of our week in Ely.

Second Verse, Same as the First

2010-08-30T08:00:00.003-05:00

There is this great photo we took three years ago as we spent a week at a cabin in Ely. A doula client, now friend, lets us use her family cabin each time she has a baby in exchange for my doula services. The first trip was three years ago when Frank was just two months old. Here is my favorite photo from that trip, taken at a waterfall we hiked to.

I posted about this photo saying how I had visions of using it as a Christmas card except that Bel seems to making a funny face and has her hand down her pants.

We had a chance to try that photo again this summer when we returned to the cabin. (Thanks, Molly, for having another baby.) We did pretty good this time around with the photo, taken at the same waterfall lookout. I also just noticed that three years ago I was wearing a Twins hat, and in this year's photo I'm wearing a Twins "Punto Plays Dirty" t-shirt. Not much changes. In fact, if you look closely, you'll see that Andrew is actually wearing the exact same t-shirt and shorts both times. I know he's also wearing the same hiking boots. Given this, it may be fair to assume he's wearing the same underwear and socks, and he probably had the same breakfast both mornings. I distinctly remember him cracking the same joke on both trips, something about how the "hiking trail is well-graded" (a family joke). He may have used a different toothbrush for each trip. But now I'm not so sure I would bet on that.

And that's what I love about the photo - it's us the same only three years older. Plus Walter. Pretty awesome.

Jumping In Feet First - Or, Er, Throwing Her In Feet First

2010-08-28T19:28:00.005-05:00

Bel learned to swim this summer. Actually, she learned to swim the last week of July. I mean, she went from clinging to us in the pool to full on, solo swimming in water over her head in just one week.

We've used various parenting methods with our kids. Sometimes we take a gentle parenting approach and provide guidance to our kids as they learn things for themselves. Sometimes we simply tell them how it is or what to do. Other times we take a stronger approach and put our kids in situations that force them to sink or swim. (Pun intended.) Sometimes we have a little help, too. All those factors contributed to Bel learning to swim.

We've been gently guiding Bel on our journey to learning to swim. She's been in swimming lessons, and we took her to the pool often this summer and helped her learn to kick and paddle her arms in the deep pool. She seemed only minimally interested in actually swimming on her own until one day at the pool we ran into her best friend from school. Her friend, as it turns out, can swim so well that as a five-year-old, she can go down the huge adult tube slides into the 12 foot deep pool.

Let there be no doubt - Bel will not be outdone. She learned to swim within a week-and-a-half of witnessing her friend's skills. I should have seen what was coming as I watched Bel observe her friend. I would have been able to see the competitive gears in her brain kicking into overdrive.

It helped, though, that her dad put her in a bit of a sink-or-swim situation. We had a few days up at a lake cabin north of Ely that provided lots of great swimming time. We could tell Bel wanted to jump in from the dock and swim on her own, but she just couldn't muster up the courage to do it.

So, Andrew helped. On the second day, he simply tossed her through the air into the deep part of the lake (she had a life jacket on).

Did Bel like it? No. Check out the evil eye she gave her dad.

Eventually, though, she mustered up the courage to try it again. This time she liked it. By the end of the stay at the cabin, she was jumping off the dock, with the life jacket, over and over and over and over again, and she enjoyed swimming around in the deep part with the jacket on.

The next pool trip after we returned home, she was swimming solo without a life jacket. It's amazing how quickly she learned to swim once all the right pieces came together for her. It was such a joy for us to witness.

From Bel, To Mom: An All Too Common Story of Mother Guilt

2010-08-21T22:03:00.007-05:00

I went back to work a few weeks ago. Thankfully I love my job despite that the fast-paced nature of of my work makes balancing life at home and career demands a bit challenging at times. If I didn't love my work, leaving Walter and the kids at home after a truly fulfilling maternity leave would have left me in a puddle of tears.

The most rewarding aspect of my maternity leave was the time I spent focusing on all my kids. I grew up on a farm where my parents' work was around me all day. I got to grow up with them and watching them work. They made a point to include my brother in me in the work, and as a result, we spent a lot of time together, especially over the summer. I feel like I can't give that to my kids. This year I wanted to ensure I used my summer away from the office to focus on all three of my kids in a way that I can't when I'm at work. I wanted to give them a summer like my parents gave me every year. I got to do that. We went on at least two adventures a week once I was recovered from giving birth. I am proud of the parent that I was this summer.

Bel goes to a year-round school, so most of the summer she was in kindergarten in the morning. I loved working on her homework with her, and I was amazed how over the summer she seemed to learn to read and write. Mostly she writes endless lines of consonants. If you sound out the letters, though, you can understand what she wrote. I think it's pretty great - she's actually really good at sounding out words. Here is one of her earlier works discovered on the kitchen table after breakfast:

Did you get that? I wat a bnann Bel dd.

I ate a banana Bel did.

Yeah, I'm pretty proud. And amused.

Well, I came home from work one night last week exhausted, and I checked the mailbox on my way in. It was empty except for one handwritten note.

From Bel, To Mom... with lots of hearts. Awwww - cute!

And then I opened it and read what was inside. I slowly sounded it out and felt my heart clench.

Can you read that? Let me spell it out for you.

Dear Mom. I miss you. Please come home.

All you working moms out there know exactly what I felt when I read this. I know that working is in a way a choice. In many ways for us it is not. I have to work. Because I have to work, I have hoped that I could be an example for my daughter of what a strong, intelligent, successful woman looks like. I want her to see that she can use her brains to help others, to succeed professionally, and to support a family. I try hard to be a good, attentive mom while I do that, but the thing is, you can't give 100% to your job and 100% to your family. In fact, you can't even give 50% to your job and 50% to your family. Both demand more than that. I get up before 6:00 am, I run like mad all day, and I come home at night to either a house full of work that needs to be done or so exhausted I can barely kiss the kids. Often It's both.

I try so hard, and it suddenly felt like I was failing. I could accept failing at my job. I can't accept failing my family. Yet no matter what I do, in way, I am.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-08-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

I have two additions to my "Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed" thread. The first is in the woods on a hike. Andrew wanted to point out that this means I didn't not stop on our hike to rest on a boulder to feed Walter. I actually fed him while hiking.

The second is at the pool. I think technically I'm in the pool. I don't think anyone knew what I was doing. I'm getting pretty good at being discreet.

Family Photos - June 2010

2010-08-16T15:00:00.001-05:00

Back in early June, Emily Rumsey, the photographer and doula who attended and photographed Walter's birth, visited us for some family photos. I thought I'd share a few favorites with all of you. She took the photo that I'm using as my new blog banner. She amazingly got several pictures where all three kiddos look good. Isn't she great?!

(I still have some end-of-pregnancy and Walter newborn photos to share, too. I'll get them out someday.)

My mom made that quilt for Walter!

She made this quilt, too!

Walter - Three Months Old

2010-08-14T20:45:00.000-05:00

My favorite baby stage is the rolly-polly, feet-grabbing, smile-filled, fat-rolly three-to-six month age.

Walter was an extremely active baby before he was born, and he's still active today. Sometimes he flaps his arms so wildly that if we put feathers on him, I swear he'd fly away. He's been rolling from his tummy to his back since mid-July, and just this week he mastered rolling from his back to his tummy. Sometimes he can belly roll from back-to-tummy-to-back-to-tummy, but mostly he just does a single flip, usually from back to tummy, and then gets frustrated that he can't move any more. He seems to have a goal for where he wants to go, sometimes to get closer to his siblings. Unfortunately, sometimes he moves and spins around so that he can get a view of the TV. I guess all ages are susceptible to the power of the tube.

One of Walter's greatest newly found abilities is to fall asleep wherever he finds himself tired. (That is, except in the car. He hates the car. Although that may be changing.) Last weekend, he was having his morning floor time. This is the time of day he seems to enjoy most laying on his floor quilt and testing out all his motor skills. During one of the morning floor sessions over the weekend, he simply fell asleep for a nap when he got tired.

He's done the same several times for Andrew, both on the floor and in his swing. Both Bel and Frank needed to be rocked or nursed to sleep until they were toddlers. Walter doesn't seem to always need that. Although, I don't mind in the least rocking and snuggling with him at bedtime. I realize now with my third baby that they grow up too fast, and I don't want to waste time "training" my baby to sleep when I should be enjoying the snuggle time now before he grows up and doesn't want to cuddle on my lap to fall asleep.

Walter is also our first finger-sucker. He doesn't seem to have a preference for a particular finger at this point. He'll use more fingers if he's tired or frustrated and fewer if he's just bored. Combined with the finger sucking is massive drooling. Sometimes it drips and slops on the floor. It's gross. I'm worried at times that he's losing so much spit that he could become dehydrated. (That's a joke, of course.)

Walter had some sebaceous nevi cut from the back of his head last month. These are growths present at birth that are mostly harmless in infants but can become problematic, even cancerous, later in life. The removal was a minor outpatient surgery. He didn't have to be put under because of his age. He's healed well, and I'm glad we are done with the surgery.

Walter continues to bring joy to our home with his laughter and smiles, joining the cacophony of sounds already filling our home. We already can't remember what life was like before him.

The World According to Frank - August 13, 2010

2010-08-13T21:35:00.002-05:00

[From out of nowhere...]

For Christmas I'm going to get a toast maker! Yeah!

The World According to Bel - August 12, 2010

2010-08-12T21:11:00.002-05:00

Mom, you used WAY too much conditioner. You are supposed to use only the size of a pea. You used the size of an elephant! It's ridiculous!

Check Out My Guest Post!

2010-08-09T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hey, friends! Check out my guest post on Missy's Marketing Mama blog today. I wrote about hormones during labor, a topic about which I am passionate and that I present on regularly for The Childbirth Collective.

I talk often about how women have natural coping mechanisms for labor that are available when a mom feels safe and secure during her labor. The hormones that help us cope also make us feel good, which is why there are so many women who love their birth stories. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. There are women who find labor to be torturous. For these women, something negative or fearful has impeded the release of her hormones during her labor, making it an overly painful and agonizing experience. My wish is that every woman be supported in her birth in such a way that allows her hormones to help her cope and maybe even enjoy her birth.

Enjoy!

Returning to Work

2010-08-05T17:30:00.000-05:00

I'm back at work this week. Ah, the chaos of life as a working parent has returned! Run, run, RUN!!!

Take a breath.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Okay, back to it....

Cesarean News

2010-07-28T08:00:00.000-05:00

I've been a bit remiss on my birth babble lately. There have been a ton of stories out there on birth. I hope to get to sharing others at some point. The most interesting and wide-spread news stories relate to cesarean births. This has been a hot topic in recent years as the U.S.'s cesarean rate continues to climb as we enter what some people have called an epidemic of cesareans. This has lead to discussions within the birth communities, medical professions, and our government health agencies about how to address the "epidemic." The following stories on the topic have appeared in the news recently.

Less Restrictive Guidelines for VBACs
The American College of Obstetricians & Gynecologists (ACOG) released less restrictive guidelines on vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) in an effort to ensure more women have access to hospitals and providers supporting VBAC and to help reduce the overall cesarean rate. The news release is here.

Inductions Lead to Cesareans
There was a news story on KSTP that reported that inductions lead to cesareans. I carefully word my perspective on this. I say inductions often lead to cesareans rather than saying inductions increase the risk of cesareans, because I believe inductions often cause the medical emergencies that make a cesarean necessary. I believe there are necessary cesareans, unnecessary cesareans, and avoidable or preventable cesareans. Reserving induction for medically necessity is one way to stay clear of those avoidable/preventable surgical births and all the risks that go along with them.

The report cited a study that showed inductions double the incidence of cesareans. I noted that the author pointed out that experts were not surprised by this. I wasn't and neither were my colleagues. We see it all the time. Additionally, according to the report, about 40% of labors are induced, and sadly, nearly 40% of those are elective, meaning that there was no medical reason for the induction.

Birth, Babies, and Bacteria
Another report on KSTP shared information on how babies born vaginally have different bacteria than those born via cesarean and that the bacteria may play a role in the babies' immune system development. The research may provide more information on why babies born via cesarean are more at risk for allergies and asthma. The bacteria in question are good bacteria that they believe the babies may need exposure to in order to build up immune defense. They suspect that babies born via cesarean take longer to obtain exposure to these bacteria.

The report stressed that the findings are very preliminary and that links between the bacteria, immune system development, and risks for asthma and allergies need to be studied more.

Thoughts on Three

2010-07-24T08:00:00.004-05:00

So, I'm almost three months into my life as a mother of three. I'm about to take the plunge into the real chaos: life as a working parent of three. I'll let you know how that goes. In the meantime, here are some thoughts I've had in my brief experience with three.

On how your life changes...

The first new baby is the hardest. You go from owning your life - deciding when you get up, when you can come home from work, what you will do in your free time, etc. - to having a life centered around your child. You can no longer go out for an evening without planning childcare. More importantly, you'll never have an evening home alone again without pre-planning childcare. And while you try to enjoy the alone time that you craved so badly, you'll miss your baby so much that you can't relax. Oh, and you suddenly realize that you will never sleep a full night again, nor will you ever sleep alone again.
The second baby is an easier adjustment than the first. Your life is already dictated by your first child, so now all you have to do is figure out how to fit the new baby in the schedule of your older child. Now you have to juggle daily schedules and mealtimes - child #1 naps and snacks on this schedule, and child #2 is on this schedule, and so on.
The third baby is a breeze. It's just one more child with one more schedule. Life is already a juggling game, and baby #3 is just one more ball to juggle.

On parenting...

With the first kid, you are trying to figure out the basics. How do you get them to sleep? Where are they supposed to sleep? How do you pump milk and use bottles? How do I get organized enough to get out the door for a walk?!
With the second, you've got it figured out, and you are pleasantly surprised how easy it is to step back into the role of caring for a baby. You learn some new tricks, master some golden ones you already learned, and you drop the dumb ideas you had the first time around.
With the third baby, you don't even need to think about parenting. It's second nature. You just enjoy your baby - eatin' up his cuteness 24/7.

On baby gear...

With the first, you register for, buy, or receive as gifts every single contraption the baby industry throws at parents. You set them all up months before your baby arrives. You look forward to using them all but quickly find that nearly all are useless.
With your second, you try to revive a few, hoping that they flopped the first time because you used them wrong. You think perhaps you can have the life shown on the baby gear box. You don't take them out until after your baby is born. You put them on the curb with a "free" sign shortly thereafter.
With your third, you know that there is nothing better for your baby than your arms and a little blanket-on-the-floor play time. You know the only gear you really need is a car seat, some diapers, a good baby carrier, onsies, a few good blankets, and a safe place for your baby to sleep.

On clothing them...

With your first, you like nice, clean, new (or new looking) clothes that are gender-specific or gender-neutral. Trendy or dress-up clothes are adorable, especially if shoes are involved.
With your second, you dump the dress-up clothes and stick to the soft, comfy clothes. You relish anything handed down to you and shop at garage sales and recycled clothing stores. You also bypass anything with hoods and stiff blue jeans. You already thew away all the shoes and look for a pair of socks that can't be kicked or pulled off.
With your third, you'll take whatever is close by. The clothes can be stained and worn through as long as they are comfortable and easy-on and easy-off, especially in the diaper-changing area. You don't care if you put pink on your boy or blue on your girl. Newness is not necessary, but when you find a newer outfit or receive one as a gift, you relish it and wear it out until it becomes faded and like everything else in the drawer. Onsies and jammies are gifts from the gods.

On boo boos...

With your first child, you come running when they fall and get hurt. You inspect the injury to see if it requires a kiss, ointment and a band aid, an emergency room visit, or a call to 911. You nearly always consider that call to 911.
With your second you walk to them when they fall and get hurt only if they are crying. You already have a band aid in hand, because they are always "needed." You inspect the situation to determine if there are any injuries requiring medical care.
With your third, you diagnose the situation from 25 yards away. If the child can get up, make eye contact, move all his limbs, and is not bleeding, you don't need to worry about him.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-07-22T10:17:00.003-05:00

Oh, the places we'll breastfeed! The adventures continue. This week I am sharing a photo of Walter eating during a Twins game. Frank and Bel also got mama's milk at Twins games when they were little ones.

Not pictured here is Walter having an nightcap on the light rail train ride home. Those trains are crowded, but nobody seemed to mind Walter having a snack. That or they didn't notice he was eating.

Never Put Anything Smaller Than Your Elbow in Your Ear

2010-07-13T08:00:00.000-05:00

Never put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear. Our Peace Corps Medical Officer used to say that to us. I'm not sure why he was lecturing us Peace Corps trainees on that. It seemed we should have more important medical things to pay attention to given we were all about to head out to remote, isolated tropical islands rampant with malaria and few, if any, medical resources. But he did, and he would try to shove his elbow into his ear to demonstrate.

That always made me wonder what Q-tips are really for. I can't think of any other personal uses for the things. I do sometimes use them to clean icky small spots in out bathtub, but I don't think that's their designed purpose.

Last month Bel had a check-up with our doctor. The doctor told us that Bel had a warehouse of wax in her ears. She asked Bel if she uses Q-tips to clean her ears. Bel responded, "What's a Q-tip?" The doctor looked at me, smiled, and said, "Good job, mom." And she lectured us on putting small things in our ears, too.

I shall confess here that I do like to put Q-tips in my ears. It feels good. Sometimes the insides of my ears itch a bit, and I need to scratch them. Can't think of another way to explain that sensation. Am I the only one who gets itchy inner ears?

I guess I'm not. Frank must get the itch, too. He didn't use a Q-tip to scratch the itcch, though. He used his blue marker. Notice how he didn't bother with anything on the outer part of his ear - he just went right down the tube with the blue felt tip and circled it around. He did both ears, too, my friends.

Don't tell our doctor.

Walter - Two Months Old

2010-07-10T12:21:00.002-05:00

Walter is two months old today. He's emerging from newborn blobbiness to adorable, roly-ploy infancy. The most obvious developments are his frequent smiles and happy baby sounds. He also has more extended and active awake time, which makes our house a ton of fun when all three kids are awake.

One of my favorite little baby trait is how they know when it's meal time for the rest of the family. They smell the food and sense the energy as everyone gathers around the table. Like any of us, the don't want to be left out. Walt is no different. He always expresses that he wants to join us at the table for dinner. Quite often he wants to eat with us. I find that to be incredibly cute and feed him as we all feed ourselves.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-07-09T08:00:00.003-05:00

Belén, Walter and I were out running errands the other day. Our day ended at Target with a mega-shopping run that included groceries and household essentials. It was a long trip. Thankfully, Walt slept in his carrier through all of the shopping. Unfortunately, though, he woke up hungry just as the checkout lady was beginning to scan our items. I was hoping Walt could hang on until we were done paying and bagging, and then the three of us would go to Starbucks where I could sit and feed him. But, we had a cart FULL of stuff. I knew it was going to be a while before we would be done. Walt's hungry sounds turned to rooting which turned to cries. I knew it would only escalate, and the check-out lady was only half done with our stuff.

So, I opened the carrier a bit, turned Walt on his side, and fed him right there at the checkout. He was happy. I was happy. The checkout lady seemed relieved, too. She smiled and said, "Isn't it nice to be able to feed your baby when you want to? I just stopped nursing my son. He's two."

Walt ate contentedly while I paid and loaded the bags in the cart. We still went to Starbucks where we got a cold beverage, rested a bit, and Walt finished eating.

******

I fed him at Cub the same way a few weeks back while we were actually doing our shopping. We were in the back of the store, and I didn't have the patience to walk to the section with the booth tables. I just fed him in his carrier and kept on shopping. I don't think any of the other shoppers knew, although some looked perplexed when I couldn't seem to coordinate lifting a case of soda into the cart.

My favorite shopping breastfeeding adventure is when we were at Target a different time, and Frank, Walt and I stopped at the yard furniture section so that I could feed Walt. I selected the most comfortable yard chair I could find. It was like a backyard BBQ - sort of.

Oh, The Places We'll Breastfeed!

2010-07-07T16:06:00.006-05:00

I'm starting a new label and post theme today. It's called "Oh, the places we'll breastfeed!" Most of you probably remember the Dr. Seuss book Oh, The Places You'll Go! To me, the book is about all the great places you can go in your imagination and physically.

The book will always remind me of our Peace Corps years. Peace Corps Volunteers are put into groups that are like classes. The volunteers in that group depart together, train together, serve together, and close their service together. All the volunteers in a group stage together in a US city immediately prior to departure to finalize arrangements and begin initial training. On the night of our staging, the Peace Corps staff had one person in our group read aloud Oh, The Places You'll Go! It was meant to help us imagine all the adventures we had ahead of us. Raef, the volunteer in our group who read the story for us, used an exaggerated preschool teacher voice when reading it, making us all laugh and creating a lasting memory. Every time Andrew and I had some wild adventure or experience during our years in the Peace Corps (and there were many crazy adventures), we would say to each other, in Raef's exaggerated preschool teacher voice, "Oh, the places you'll goooo!"

We added to that joke when we went for runs (as in jogging) in most of the places we visited in our three month around-the-world traveling adventure we had on our way home from our Peace Corps Service. We went for runs in some pretty wild places, including downtown Saigon, a remote village in northern Thailand, and a wave-splashed coastal road in northern Spain. On each of those runs, we'd admire the exotic surroundings and say, in Raef's exaggerated preschool teacher voice, "Oh, the places you'll run!"

Now we are settled and domesticated, but the theme shall continue. I'm going to post about all the interesting places where Walt and I breastfeed. With three kids, I've been a breastfeeding mama for over three years of my life. I'm comfortable with it. I want to feed my babies when and where they are hungry. Sometimes that can be interesting, especially with babies who can't wait to eat and often get hungry or thirsty in random places.

One place you'll find that I never breastfeed is the bathroom. Just the other day when out at a restaurant I brought Walt to the bathroom for a diaper change. A woman asked me if I was going to feed him. I said, "No, he eats when and where the rest of us eat. Often that's at the table. He joins our family meals." She looked relieved and expressed words of support. She said she had a friend who always fed her baby in a bathroom. Now, I am going to support any breastfeeding mom in how and where she chooses to feed her baby. If she needs to be in a bathroom stall to feel comfortable, more power to her. That doesn't work for me, though. Bathrooms to me are dirty places where people go to - well, you know. There's a reason we all wash our hands when we leave and why many people open the door on the way out using a towel.

So, the journey begins. Here is my first entry from July 1, 2010 - the Metropolitan Club at Target Field. This is the restaurant/bar that has a balcony overlooking the field and The Plaza in right field. Andrew and I were enjoying drinks, and Walter proclaimed that he wanted one, too. After a few moments of consideration of where to go, I thought, "Hey, what the heck! It's nice out here. I'm not going inside!" So, I fed Walt standing there.

Oh, the places we'll breastfeed!

The Aftermath

2010-07-01T08:00:00.002-05:00

We hosted our first real kids' birthday party when Frank turned three a few weeks ago. We had over twelve kids under the age of five in our backyard. (Not all the kids are in the photo.)

We all had an absolute blast, but the kids were like the Tasmanian Devil swirling our yard into a disaster area.

I suppose we've set a precedent and will be expected to do this three times a year from now on. Party on.

Are we crazy? Yes, yes we are.

2010-06-29T09:02:00.003-05:00

Many of you know that Andrew is a rock star. His primary instrument is the drums. He likes to set up pots-and-pans drums for the kids in the kitchen, and they play with wooden spoons. So, of course I had to jump on the opportunity to buy a real (not a toy) half-sized drum set for kids when I spotted it at a neighborhood yard sale.

Our house is never quiet. Now it never will be.

A Portrait of her Father

2010-06-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

Belén recently created a portrait of her dad. Here it is.

What are all those little lines, you ask? We asked, too. Bel explained what they are. They are hair. She drew her dad topless, and she made her drawing accurate down to each individual hair. Notice how the hair swirls around his nipples and belly button? See how she even made sure to include arm hair? She has an eye for detail.

Rule of Three a la Goat

2010-06-21T11:47:00.004-05:00

Thank you Liz (a.k.a Mama & Mrs. Goat), for sharing your Rule of Three post. I thought it was a fun post, so I'm sharing my own:

Three names I go by:
Rebecca
Becky
Mom

Three jobs I have had:
bartender
Peace Corps Volunteer
desk jockey

Three places I have lived:
Battle Lake, MN
Madrid, Spain
Lata, Temotu Province, Solomon Islands

Three favorite drinks:
red wine
Coke (with real sugar, thank you)
beer

Three TV shows I watch:
Mad Men
Breaking Bad
Criminal Minds

Three places I have been:
New Zealand
Vietnam
Morocco

Three places I would like to visit:
Anywhere in South America
America's Ballparks
Sub-Saharan Africa

Three favorite dishes:
Andrew's fried rice
pot stickers
Mom's chicken wild rice soup

Three things I am looking forward to:
The rest of this summer
A nap on the couch that lasts until I wake up on my own
Watching Andrew umpire this summer

TAGGING - I'm not tagging anyone, but like Liz, I invite you to create your own list to share. So, indirectly, tag - you're it!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Frankie!

2010-06-20T07:21:00.002-05:00

We love you!

The World According to Frank - June 14th, 2010

2010-06-18T08:58:00.000-05:00

Bel: Frank, you have to get dressed. It's a school day.

Frank: No, Bel, it's not a school day. It's an office day.

(Unfortunately for Andrew, it was.)

First Twins Game

2010-06-16T17:00:00.000-05:00

Oh, Walter. He is going to be so much fun at Twins games this summer. And our fellow fans sitting around us will continually be entertained by him. We got to take Walter to his first out-of-the-womb Twins game last week. He's been to quite a few while in the womb, including games at Kaufmann Stadium in Kansas City, game #163 at the Metrodome last year when we won the AL Central Division championship, and our first Target Field game in April. He's officially outfitted in Twins gear and ready for the rest of the season.

We know Walter had fun at his first Twins game. He partied like a rock star. He did snooze a bit during the game, but once he woke up, he refused to go back to sleep. His little eyes stayed wide well past the end of the game and the train ride back to our car. I think the fans behind us had more fun watching him than the game. Me, too.

Finally

2010-06-15T09:09:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl, I wanted long hair. My mom never let me grow it out and had my hair cut short from the time I was about three until she could no longer tell me what to do. By then, my hair was so short and I so short on patience that I was stuck with the short do.

I recall being about three or four and my mom trying to comb my longish hair at the time. The comb wouldn't go through. I remember my parents jokingly calling me "snarly hair" as we went to get my hair cut short. That was the last time my hair was longer than the lobes of my ears. She always said that I looked better in short hair, anyway. This was something she repeated throughout my childhood. I didn't believe her. I thought that beautiful women should have long locks flowing over their shoulders and down their backs.

In my early twenties Andrew and I moved to small remote island countries in the South Pacific with the Peace Corps. Amenities were limited. There certainly were not places for a white girl to get her hair cut. Neither Andrew nor I got real haircuts for over two years. My hair grew down my back. I finally had the long hair I wanted. I kept it that way for a few years after we got back, and I enjoyed it. It was easy to care for. I could get by washing it only a few times each week. I just needed to brush it in the morning before going to work. I like that I could put it up in a fun twist if I wanted, and I actually looked like a girl when I wore a ball cap. (These days I look like a twelve year old boy when I wear a ball cap to Twins games.) I eventually cut it, obviously. My mom was right - I look better in short hair. It only took me thirty years to realize that my mom is nearly always right. Little girls should trust their mothers when it comes to these kind of things.

So, now you understand why, when Bel said she wanted to grow her hair out, I let her, despite that just like her mother she has a head of snarls and looks adorable in short hair. I didn't want her to spend her life wishing she had long hair and blaming me because she didn't. That was almost two years ago. Since then, each morning became more painful the the previous one when it came to brushing her hair. Snarls won out like weeds in an untended garden. Our conditioners and detanglers were no match for her hair, and the occasional haircut didn't help. The worst of it is that her hair has not been cute at all as it's grown out. We had stylists try to cut a style into it as it's grown. Even once it became "long," it was not cute.

Bit by bit we'd talk to Bel about cutting her hair. She would not have it. I took the opportunity to bring up the topic in the mornings as we both endured the pain of attempting to brush her hair. I guess last Tuesday was especially painful. When she came home from school that afternoon, she told me she wanted to cut her hair. You bet I scheduled that appointment within the hour, and by Wednesday afternoon, she looked like this.

Again, Mom was right. Only this time, the mom was me. There are no more snarls, even in a nest of bed head. And doesn't she look great in short hair?

The World According to Frank - June 11th, 2010

2010-06-14T08:59:00.002-05:00

Frank and I went to Cub to buy the week's groceries. We also needed a jug of bubble mix, which we call "bubble juice." Cub didn't have any. The following conversation took place back in the van as we were buckling up to go home.

Frank: Did we get more bubble juice so I can play in the yard?

Mom: I'm sorry, Frank. We didn't get any bubble juice. The store didn't have any. What kind of store doesn't have bubble juice, for crying out loud?!

Frank: [pointing back at the store] That one.

Walter - One Month Old

2010-06-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

I can't believe Walter is already one month old! What a great month it's been. In many ways, it seems like Walter has always been a part of our family, like we've always known and loved him.

I love this age. Well, I love all the stages. Andrew jokes that my favorite age is whatever age the kids are currently. I love that Walt is starting to coo and smile. Sometimes when he makes a coo sound, he startles himself and gets a surprised look on his face.

Oh what a joy it is to have Walt around. We are looking forward to the months and years ahead as Walter grows and begins to interact more with his brother and sister. We are in no rush, though. He can take his time growing as we enjoy his baby stagse.

Clever Signage

2010-06-11T08:59:00.000-05:00

I have posted about stupid signs we've seen. I also love when others post pictures of stupid or funny signs. I spotted this signage the other day. It doesn't qualify as stupid signage. No, not at all. To the contrary, the genius at the media company that decided to put these two advertisements next to each other knew what he was doing. He has a very good sense of humor. Thanks for the laughs, Mr. Media Guy.

* Yes, I refer to the media guy as a he. I know he could be a she. Other languages default to the male pronoun when the gender is unknown or plural with mixed gender. I shall do the same.

Still My Favorite Purchase of the Pregnancy

2010-06-09T08:54:00.003-05:00

Man, this Ergo carrier is still the best purchase we made during the pregnancy. Well, maybe the minivan was a better purchase, but as far as baby gear goes, the carrier takes the cake. Walter loves it, and both Andrew and I can use it. We can use it for both Walter and Frank. In fact, a week before Walter was born, I carried Frank on my back in it, and we walked two miles around the lake. I'm sure I made quite the site being nine months pregnant with a two-year-old on my back. It was quite comfortable, though, and Frank never wanted to get out.

Thanks, Missy, for introducing me to the Ergo. Thanks, Kerry, for loaning us your infant insert!

Walter's Birth Photos

2010-06-05T13:00:00.003-05:00

We've made a video slide show of some of our favorite pictures from Walter's birth day. We hired photographer, doula, filmmaker, and midwifery student Emily Rumsey to take photos to document the day. She did an absolutely spectacular job. You won't see this in the photos, but Emily also acted as a doula - rubbing my back for several hours during the wee hours of the morning.

Unfortunately the quality of the photos are lost a bit as we compressed the movie slide show, but the story of the day is still preserved beautifully. I expect I'll write down Walter's birth story someday as a way to capture what was going on inside my mind, the other side of the story told here.

The photos are PG. They are not G given mild partial nudity. But I would consider them family friendly. They are still birth photos - there are a few slides of Walter's actual birth. Because I gave birth on my hands and knees in the water, you can't see much, though. There are no full-on crowning shots. You only see a bit more of me than you would of your plumber working under your sink. (This is birth, though, so there are few globs of blood and mucous in the tub as Walter emerges.) Still, if you don't want to see me even partially nude, don't watch. At the same time, if you've always wanted to see me nude, chances are these are not the images you have hoped for, so you may not want to watch, either.

Why are we sharing these? There are a few reasons. First, most of us rarely have a chance to see a normal birth. We see only those horrible shows on daytime cable TV or the grossly inaccurate portrayals of birth in nighttime TV comedies and dramas. I want to balance that out with images of a real, normal birth. I want people to see that in reality, birth is beautiful, warm, and full of laughter and joy. There is no need to hide it or shame it. We should celebrate it.

Mostly, though, I want to share the photo story of one of the most amazing days of our lives. I wish we had documented Bel's and Frank's births this way. I always remind my doula mamas that the day their baby is born will be one of the most important days of their life, and they'll remember it often. The story and memories begin long before their baby is actually born. The story of their babies birth is to be celebrated, whether the birth is short, long, difficult, complicated, natural, medicated, vaginal or via cesarean. I want them to smile often and capture snapshots of the event in their memory. I am fortune enough to have actual snapshots of my experience to accompany my memory, and as you see, I remembered to smile often. I want to share it with you.

I want to publicly thank our amazing birth team. We could not have done it without them. I could not have done it without them.

Thank you to our midwives, Clare and Emme, for caring for us, educating us, supporting us, and helping us navigate the tough decisions along the way. Emme, you know the exact spots on a woman's back to rub during contractions - ahhhh. And thank you for catching my dear Walter. He landed in good hands. Clare, your words carried me through the challenges of early labor and the intensity of late labor. Your smile reminded me that birth is good and to be celebrated, even when it's hard.

Thank you to our doula, Sarah. I needed your guidance during labor, and Blooma helped me prepare my mind and body for this birth. Thank you for helping me get out of my head when I was over-thinking my labor. I needed that. Thank you for the massage I knew I needed this time. Thanks for making me lunge when I least wanted to but needed it the most. Thank you for giving me the words I needed to make it through transition. I couldn't have done it without you.

Thank you Emily R. for the photos that I will look at often to remember Walter's amazing birth day. I will find my memories of this beautiful day in your photos, and I will look at them when I need to remind myself that I am a strong mother. Thank you also for being my second doula. The hot packs and massage on my back felt so good.

Thank you to my dear, wonderful, amazing friends Anna and Emily who watched over Bel and Frank so that Walter's birth could be a family celebration. You allowed us to focus on labor knowing that our family was near. Our children will have blessed memories of the day because of you. Thank you for giving us that. Moreover, what a blessing to have you with me that day. I will always remember your presence. I can't thank you enough for being there.

We do not own the rights to the music accompanying the slide show we made. Please visit the artists' websites to find out how to purchase the music.

More Good News

2010-06-04T09:03:00.003-05:00

Well, technically, it's more good journalism. Thank you to Chen May Yee (May), writer at the Minneapolis Star Tribune and co-author of the paper's Cribsheet blog, for this great article on the remarkably low cesarean rate at St. Paul's St. Joseph's hospital.

As many of you know, Bel was born at St. Joe's under the care of an OB who I believe practices much of the midwifery model of care. I was not an educated consumer of the maternity side of health care when I was pregnant with Bel. That came later.

At my first OB visit, the nurse practitioner asked if I wanted to give birth at United or St. Joe's. Initially I thought we should use United given their connection to Children's Hospital, but the nurse practitioner encouraged me to consider St. Joe's given their care model of treating birth as a normal body function and not a disease. She said United is there for me should at any point in the pregnancy the doctor determine that I or my baby needed specialist care. We didn't need that care, and Miss Bel came screaming into the world at St. Joe's. We had a very straight forward birth that I didn't know until later is unusual in other hospitals. And it was that empowering experience that lead me down the path to becoming a doula and bona fide birth junkie.

As a doula I've attended births all over the metro. Let me tell ya - the culture of maternity care varies widely from hospital to hospital. It can also vary within each hospital by provider group or type and by nurse.

But I digress. My point was to thank May for her article. It's refreshing to see articles that share the story of normal, healthy, and notably-not-fear-based birth.

Well Said

2010-06-02T09:20:00.005-05:00

This article in today's Minneapolis Star Tribune thoroughly, accurately and objectively addresses the issue of medicalized birth in American culture. Well said, Josephine Marcotty! Thank you!

Note: Many Twin Cities hospitals and providers (doctors and midwives) will provide supportive care to mothers seeking a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC). Many home birth midwives in the area do them, as well. Mothers do not need to resort to the method Lund does as described in the article. If anyone needs more info, please contact me.

The World According to Bel - May 24th, 2010

2010-05-25T07:31:00.001-05:00

Bel: Does gum make you breasts smell good?

Mom: It makes your BREATH smell good.

Bel: Oh, that makes more sense.

Slowing Down

2010-05-22T14:00:00.000-05:00

One of the best things about babies is how they force parents to slow down a bit. You can't control your schedule when you have a baby. I quick trip to the doctor turns into hours when the baby decides he needs to eat. I love this about babies. It makes us parents slow down, take a break, and look around at life every now and then.

Take my outings on Wednesday as an example. Walt and I needed to head to Children's for some newborn lab work, and later we had to pick up Frank from daycare while Andrew and Bel were at her ballet performance dress rehearsal. The clinic appointment was a five minute deal, but we spent nearly two hours at the clinic. Most of that was in a sunny waiting room while Walt had a leisurely lunch. We both watched the construction cranes outside the window. It was quite nice and relaxing.

Later that day Frank, Walt and I were driving home from Frank's daycare. Before we could get anywhere near home Walt proclaimed that a milk stop was needed. As if the gods were with us, we came upon a park with a playground and beach. Frank stripped down to his skivies and sandals and we all enjoyed an afternoon in the sunshine. Frank played until he had sand mushed in his toenails, and Walt and I were both sun drunk even in the shade.

Thank goodness for babies. Without them, we'd get lost in the chaos and would miss life completely.

On Hypnobirthing

2010-05-20T10:00:00.001-05:00

You know, a lot of people have asked me this past week what I thought of Hypnobirthing. Several asked me to write about it. This is my first personal experience with Hypnobirthing (Mongan Method). As a doula I've worked with one family who took the course, and I'm not sure how many, if any, have practiced the technique using the book and CD. I combined what I learned in the course I took with my doula family with the CD and book I have.

I have heard stories about how Hypnobirthing can bring such intense relaxation that women barely feel labor and birth. My own experience and the reports of families I know are that it works wonders in early and active labor, but it doesn't always work as well through transition and pushing. I would say this was true for me, but it certainly gave me key coping techniques for late labor and the birth itself.

I used Hypnobirthing in a few ways. First, I practiced the techniques frequently during pregnancy to help prepare my mind for labor. I needed to give myself the mental confidence that I can give birth easily and in a calm mental state. In other words, it's great fear-management training. There was payoff. On Sunday night it became apparent to Andrew and me that I was in labor. We both sort of freaked out. I was scared of what I knew I had to do. I got so scared that my contractions stopped. Andrew and I decided to listen to my Hypnobirthing track together. In the 22 minutes of that track, Andrew and I calmed into a peaceful semi-slumber cuddled in bed together. We both "woke" to a sense of calm about the night ahead of us, and my contractions promptly resumed and quickly set a 3-5 minute pace. Later in the evening, I laid on a mattress in my birth room and listed the track a few times, relaxing so much that I slept and dreamed between contractions. That was nice.

Second, I used the visualization training of the CD to help prepare myself for the people and activity that would be around me during Walter's birth. I visualized the birth tub and how it would help decrease anxiety hormones during labor. Around the tub I pictured everyone in my birth team and the role that I expected them to play. This included the kids. While I was in late labor, Bel and Frank stood next to the tub with their hands splashing the water. I learned later that everyone was concerned that this would be disturbing to me (women in late labor have little tolerance for disruptions). On the contrary - I enjoyed it. I believe this is because I had spent weeks visualizing them at the birth and how all their activity and kid-behavior would be calming and not annoying. (It worked!) Not long before my due date we officially hired a professional photographer for the birth. She was concerned that all the flashes would be disruptive. In my Hypnobirthing practice, I added her and the flashes to the birth team. I visualized the flashes as bursts of energy and calm. When real labor came, I didn't notice the flash at all, and I expect that my subconscious interpreted them as calming.

Finally, I used the Hypnobirthing to create trigger words that would shape how I perceived and responded to the intensity of labor. I used the words peace and calm to remind myself that I control how I respond to my labor. Each time I said or thought those words during labor, even late labor, I felt myself relax. My midwives helped me add the word gentle to the pushing stage so that I would perceive that stage not as a forceful event but rather a slow, gentle process. (Frank was far from gentle as he decended.) If I perceived or visualized Walter coming down slowly ("breathing him down") instead of "pushing," it would be a gentler experience for me and him. This was one of the best things I did. With the help of my midwives and doula, at the end of labor I vocalized "gentle baby, gentle baby" and thought of myself as breathing him down. While it was happening, I didn't realize Walter had decended until Emme told me to reach down and touch his head. Without really knowing it, I had gently brought Walter all the way to crowning without the intensity of pushing. That was such a wonderful way to experience birth!

So, Hypnobirthing was well worth the time commitment it requires. I practiced several times a week for a few months, and I'm glad I did it.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-05-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

Sneak Peak

2010-05-12T09:27:00.008-05:00

Labor is a lot of work.

And labor is joyful and pleasurable.

But the outcome... well, nothing can compare.

(Most photos taken by Emily Rumsey. More on her to come.)

It's a Boy!

2010-05-10T11:59:00.001-05:00

Happy birthday, Walter!

5/10/10
8:31am
8 lbs 6 oz
21 in

Everything went perfectly. Details and photos to come.

The World According to Bel - May 8, 2010

2010-05-09T15:05:00.001-05:00

Bel: Dad, who are the Twins playing today?

Dad: The Orioles.

Bel: Yummmm, like the cookies. Those are good.

Is It Safe to Sleep With My Baby?

2010-05-08T11:19:00.004-05:00

What a question. Co-sleeping is a controversial, emotional topic. It's hard to find someone without an opinion on the issue. But do we really understand the evidence behind the recommendations? How do we know what sleep arrangements are safe for our babies?

One thing I do know is that cribs are not inherently safe sleeping places for babies. We have to make them safe. The rails need to be narrowly spaced. The mattress must be firm and fully-fitted to the crib. The sheets must be tight. There should be no bumpers, toys, blankets, or pillows in the crib with the baby. The baby should be put to sleep on his back. We also know that the safest place for baby to sleep is in the same room with his parent(s). (This one always surprises people - check out the American Academy of Pediatrics sleep recommendations.)

So, can sleeping with your baby be safe? If the right accommodations are made, can it be as safe as or safer than solitary infant sleep? Are there benefits to co-sleeping or bedsharing with your baby?

The Childbirth Collective and its co-sponsors are bringing Dr. James McKenna to town to discuss infant sleep. Dr. McKenna is a professor at Notre Dame University and is the Director of the Mother-Baby Sleep Laboratory. He is the nation's expert on mother-baby sleep. He will share his research and perspective in a one-day lecture open to parents, birth professionals, medical professionals, and anyone who may be interested in learning more about infant sleep.

TOPICS:

Infant Sleep and Breastfeeding In Evolutionary Perspective
What Science Tells Us About Mother-Infant Co-sleeping and Breastfeeding
Cultural History of Infant Sleep In Western Societies: Implications For Western Pediatric Sciences
SIDS and Sudden Unexpected Death in Infants And How Controversies Can Be Reconciled (What Every Health Professional Should Know)

Dr. James McKenna Conference

Saturday, May 22, 2010
9:00 am - 4:00 pm

Normandale Community College
Bloomington, MN

$60 per person / $25 for each additional household member (early registration rate)

Online Registration: http://www.mckennaconference.com/

Feeling Great

2010-05-06T16:37:00.004-05:00

Andrew and I were just talking about how fun the end of pregnancy can be. I love that I wake up each day not knowing how the day will end. It could end as all our nights do - the kids taking a bath, all four Feyders crammed into our little bathroom brushing our teeth, stories and back tickles for the kids, and a little TV for the parents.

Or, the day could end with a fifth Feyder in the house and our lives changed forever. It's so exciting.

It helps that I'm feeling great. Emotionally I couldn't be better. Physically I'm uncomfortable in a good way. I mean, really, it's not so bad to have aches and pains if the discomfort is because you have a squirmy little baby in your tummy making his way into the world. When I stand up and my hips, back, and pelvis sink and stretch, I groan, but I smile. The only annoyance is that I am so, so, so tired at the end of every day. But seriously, is it any wonder? And what's wrong with that? I just lay down and rest in the living room while the kids either cuddle up with me or attack their father in a mock wresting match.

I'm not anxious at all about when the big day will come. I know I'm "due," but I'm just not anxious. Perhaps it's because this is our third baby. I know I'll have this baby, whether that's today or two weeks from today. I trust my baby will start labor when he's ready, and I honor that he may need a little time (or a lot of time) before he's ready. Darth and I talk about that, and I reassure him that I'm patient and respect his need to do what he needs to do. There is so much peace in that.

It also probably helps that I know to enjoy the peace in our house right now. I cherish the ritual of our routines in the evening, because very soon, our evenings will be chaos. In a few weeks, I'll miss the routineness of our crammed toothbrushing time and the predictableness of our story time and back tickles.

I've told our midwives and doula that I just feel "too good" to go into labor any time soon. I think I've realized the goodness in that. I'm cherishing every moment. I love the anticipation of our days. I love the fullness of our ready-to-be-born Darth sinking into my pelvis and making me ache. I love that I smile all day.

I am simply at peace, and that feels great.

Ah Yeah, Booooyyyy!!!!

2010-05-02T12:10:00.000-05:00