A tale of two births

All this talk about babies – okay, okay, I’ve been the one doing the talking – has got me thinking. Noah’s birth was so much more peaceful and calm than Elias’.

Prenatal care
With Elias:

  • I rotated through the three doctors in the practice
  • Appointments were quick, I spent more time with the nurse than the OB
  • I was told that I was in the minority for wanting to have a VBAC
  • I never felt as though I was taken seriously
  • I did not feel cared about, as though I was just a number
  • I felt like the doctors thought they knew my body better than I did
  • I really did not like the exams
  • The OBs freaked out when I went past the “due date”

With Noah:

  • Appointments were longer and spent with the midwife
  • I felt listened to and believed
  • I felt cared about
  • The vaginal exams were few and far between
  • It was made clear to me that I was not in the minority for wanting a VBAC, my choice was actually encouraged
  • No one freaked out when I went past the “due date,” we discussed things and they didn’t start to worry unless we approached 42 weeks

Labor
With Elias:

  • Went to hospital waaay too early – kind of got bullied into that
  • Labor was controlled and augmented with Pitocin that was not allowed to be turned off due to threat from the doctor that she would section me if it wasn’t turned back on

With Noah:

  • Went about my day, ate, drank, lived as normal
  • I waited to go to hospital until I was feeling the need to push
  • Mostly calm environment – once we got in the room

Birth
With Elias:

  • I was on my back with my legs being held up by my husband and a nurse
  • I felt very humiliated and embarrassed
  • The doctor told me to stop making noises when I was grunting as I tried to push
  • After I tore, Jon was shooed away from me while I was being sutured
  • The doctor sutured me up so tight that I had pain and tightness for months afterward
  • Elias was put on my chest momentarily before being whisked away

With Noah:

  • I laid on my side to push him out with Jon standing beside me
  • Noah was immediately put to my chest to feed where he stayed for some time
  • I was asked if it was okay to take him and weigh him, etc.

I attribute the difference between the two births to a number of things: The second time around I went to Nurse Midwives of Indianapolis where the Certified Nurse Midwives (CNMs) have views on birth that closely match my own, i.e. if it ain’t broke….

Also, we went to Methodist where the nurses are much more accustomed to seeing natural birth, unlike when we were at Clarian North. Clarian North would be later described to me as “perfect” for those moms who don’t want to mess their makeup.

I also read a lot. I re-read a lot of the books that I had read – or skimmed – before. I especially enjoyed reading Ina May Gaskin’s Guide to Childbirth and Penny Simkin’s The Birth Partner. I do firmly believe that both books played a large part in my having the natural birth I wanted.

If I do it again, I would like to consider a home birth. I definitely would want a water birth, regardless of where it would take place. But, of course, that all depends on whether or not we have another one. Now, I realize that realistically we don’t have space in our house for another person. I do get that. I have hopes – we both do – that we will be able to find some land within a few years and literally make a home for ourselves.

tick tock, tick tock…

I cannot quite figure it out. It’s as though I can feel my biological clock ticking away, getting louder and louder and louder. I’ve even been pestering Jon a bit about planning another one. What’s up with this? I just keep thinking about how wonderful it would be to feel a life growing inside of me, how great it would be to have a water birth, how sweet a newborn baby is…. I have three children already, the youngest two still in diapers. Putting another baby into the mix right now should be the farthest thing from my mind. So, what gives?? Is this some weird thing that hits in the 30s?

invitations

I’m finishing up the invitations for Ceili Fey’s birthday party. This year her birthday falls on a Saturday. She is very excited about it. She has decided to go with the Disney Princesses as her theme. Some days I wish we didn’t own anything Disney but what can you do?

We have almost everything we need for her party. There is still the matter of plates for the cake and ice cream. Can you believe they were out of them??

She wanted very badly to have a party with all of her classmates this year but the rest of us just aren’t quite ready for that yet. I told her we’ll see about next year.

Valentine candy

Yesterday Jon and I had reservations at the L.A. Cafe for supper. Our friend Roberta came and stayed with the kiddos while we were gone. It was nice to get out without any kids.

Today my father came up and we all went to lunch with him. Initially I had thought we might go to Red Robin but he decided that he didn’t care for it after his one time there a month or so ago. It seems that he didn’t care for the burger he ordered even though the rest of us at the table loved ours. So, instead, we opted for Chili’s. It wasn’t too bad. It seems that we ordered the wrong thing for Elias, of course. The little bugger is becoming exceptionally picky about what he eats – he’s rapidly becoming as bad as his sister! I suppose though, quesadillas aren’t all that spectacular.

But we did find one thing Elias liked, or rather, Papa George (my father) did. After lunch, we came back to our house where he pulled out the Valentine candy. He got heart boxes for Ceili Fey and I and a bag of Reese hearts for the little guys.

My father is not known for his moderation. I’m truly not sure just how many of the heart candies Elias had. I think it was at least three. He kept going back and forth between Papa George, whom he would beg for more candy, to the trains with which he was playing. He was so excited, just bounding back and forth, yet the whole time he just kept sucking his thumb and saying “nigh-nigh,” which he only does when tired.

When I decided he had had quite enough, I picked him up and told him it was naptime. He began screaming and hit me. I decided at that point that I had had quite enough and ran him upstairs to his room, sat him in the big rocker, and shut the door.

Is it any wonder he crashed pretty hard at bedtime??