Category Archives: Pregnancy

Feb 01 2013
6 Comments
Baby, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, Priorities, Value, Womanhood

My Approach: Gentle Lactivism


6months16

I stumbled on the word “Lactivism” a few months ago, and I loved it instantly.
I am and always will be an activist at heart: the champion of my causes to the grave. I care about mothers and babies and breastfeeding, I care about unborn babies. I care about animals, everyone’s right to eat nutritious and wholesome food, and I also care about education and healthcare, as well as natural remedies and our bodies’ awesome abilities to heal themselves. I strongly believe in protecting God’s green Earth and it’s wonderful bounty! If we were being super thorough, I’d have to keep listing more and more topics because my interests and passions are extensive. But these are the main ones.

There are ways to be an activist, and there are many styles of it. Not all of them work extraordinarily well; not all of them are suited to every person–or will appeal in the least to them.

Since I care deeply about mamas and their young, I care deeply about how they are treated and the rights that they have. I want to be someone they can turn to, a voice in the silence when they think nobody else is thinking about what their mind’s eye is on. I want to be an arm outstretched and a comforting person. BUT I have to know when someone is interested in having me fit that role for them. This goes for breastfeeding. Come on, we all KNOW “Breast Is Best.” Every new mother knows that its what she should do–it’s constantly discussed and held up high, and we all realize that it provides a vast amount of benefits. Unless they are under a rock, they know that breastfeeding is strongly encouraged. But some mamas have a very hard time with it, and some ladies have experiences that make it excruciatingly difficult to breastfeed. As a lactivist, I must know this, own it, and see it for the truth that it is. Not every woman is going to be able to do it.

HOWEVER: I see this, and I have heard other women’s stories, grieved with them that they were unable to do what they had hoped for their little ones. Kind of like what happened to me with my would-be natural waterbirth. I know that their babies are still going to be vibrant and healthy thanks to God’s grace and provision. But I will always practice gentle lactivism. I try not to be in anyone’s face about it. I try to use my actions more than my words in order to practice what I believe in, but not step on other mothers’ sensitive and already possibly wounded spirits. I compare it to my belief in Christ, and my walk with Him. Untold numbers of people have been hurt by the church (myself included) and do not want to hear me preaching to them. They don’t want to hear about Christ or what I have been through and how He’s led and loved me. But they will see it as I live my life, and that speaks volumes more than I ever can with my voice.

So what do I do to practice my gentle brand of lactivism? I make sure everyone knows that I breastfeed. I am not shy about it, and I am vocal when August needs a meal! I will say, “I’m going to give August a nursing!” to my husband within anyone’s earshot. I blog about it (like I’m doing now) and talk about it openly and let people know how well it’s going for me! I have had friends without kids ask me about it, ask if it hurts, etc. I am super honest and open with them, and no questions are off-limits when they are curious and want to know. Too few mothers and matriarchs are leading the young women they are surrounded by, and I won’t do that. I want to show other women what is working for me, so that they have something to go off of when they need to know what will work for them. What I do know about my experience is that I did a TON of reading and researching before I actually had to breastfeed my guy when he was born. I knew the possibilities of what could go wrong, and what I could do to try to counteract them. I read really positive stories about women and their great nursing experiences. I tried to beef myself up on facts and good experiences, because it seems our culture only talks loudly about the bad ones (in every area of life, not just bf-ing)and that can be SO hard for a new mom! I felt the sting of so many women who had wanted to tell me their sob stories and angry stories starting out, and that is NOT appropriate to do to a new or pregnant mom. Seriously, quit it folks–know when to share and when to keep it to yourself. I turned my ears off in many instances and asked the Lord to protect me from their negative effects.

Another way I try to be available to new and expectant ladies is this: I will nurse in public to a certain degree, and have even recently nursed with a man nearby (successfully & discreetly!) and without exposing myself. I was pretty proud–if my baby needs to eat, he’s not going to have to wait until a convenient time! I get grouchy if I can’t have a snack when I need one. Haha. But that’s half the solution. Our culture has so wounded women by sexualizing them on nearly every level, and boobs are included. The breast is a FASCINATING, AMAZING functional part of every woman’s anatomy, and the capable and useful feeling of feeding your child with your own body is even more amazing. Our country in particular has robbed women of this, and we need to take back what’s rightfully ours. We need to be free of the notion that we are hussies, sluts, or whatever other horrible term people will throw at you when you’re breastfeeding in a way that someone else might have an inkling of what you’re up to. The gentle, sweet, and so-perfect act of nursing your little one is so far from the sexualized mindset–I believe so many are not able to understand the place it even comes from. They only see a woman for that side of things, and so they will have a hard time with it.

So, gentle lactivism in my book is one part actions speaking louder than words, one part not being afraid to tell people about my experiences when they are curious, and one part counter-cultural confidence about my feeding my son, and how very right it is.

I thought I would share my view on this, because I think so many women can relate or understand or learn from it. I’m sure we’ve all been given “the talk” on numerous subjects dealing with childrearing and pregnancy–from some wise lady who wants to tell you what’s up. I had numerous women try to do that with me during my pregnancy and I just wasn’t up for it. They were people who I didn’t know very well, and they were quite invasive. So I wanted to share how I go about being passionate with this topic, but not insensitive to others.

All my love,

-M

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Dec 17 2012
4 Comments
Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection

August’s Birth Story Pt. 2


So lets see, I wrote Pt. 1 to this story back in July.  It has been a minute, has it not?  I think I can look back and maybe see with clearer vision now.  Now that I have a nearly seven-month-old baby boy, I can hardly believe any of this happened to us all. Yet I still feel and see a lot of it very vividly.  I hope those memories wil never leave me, and will not evade me as my mind grows older and fills with other things.

When I left off writing last time, my already long birth journey had taken its course with five hours of Pitocin.  I held out.  I was a strong mama.  I will not deny myself that–even if I didn’t make it to my goal.  Then, after my strength went out, I finally gave in.  The aching, the throbbing, the feeling of a huge massive grip seizing my body over and over again, relentlesslly–it was far too much.  The pain in my sides, the splitting feeling I had in my ribs and my womb, it was not natural, as far as I could tell.  I decided that I would finally have Nubain. 

Image

A shot of narcotics in my arm, a brief sting, and then I felt elated.  I could see the sun shining into my room, glistening.  It was brighter and clearer than anything–looking so beautiful.  I thought to myself that it must be the dawn.  Hahaha.  It was nowhere near dawn, since my baby was born at 9:38 p.m.  However, it looked like a dawning sun shining into the room from my view.  My mind was warped by drugs. 

I greived for not having the birth that I wanted.  I grieved, knowing that my baby’s best birth would be one that wasn’t voilent, one that wasn’t scary–without drugs and intervention.    A waterbirth would’ve given him such a calm way to enter into the world with a smooth transition from amniotic fluid, into the warm birthing pool, and finally onto my warm, bare, comforting chest.  But this was not to be, and so I left it behind.  I am so thankful God provided an awesome nurse who helped me through this.  Dee took my hands and told me, “You know, you don’t have to do this.  You don’t have to put yourself through so much.  You’ve already gone through a lot of pain, you’ve already been through a lot.”  She convinced me that I would be okay with the drugs.  She told me that the anesthetist was a great one.  So after the nubain’s elation wore off, I decided it was time.  Troy & I talked, and that was that. 

He came in with ease–he was a friendly guy with a big needle.  Of course, what every pregnant woman wants to hear is, “Man, you’re in great shape!  Look at that back!”  Which is what he said.  So he made me laugh, and then gave me the first numbing shot.  It wasn’t bad.  Then Troy held my hands because the big needle was going to go into my spine.  If I thought about it, I felt woozy.  But after it was over, it wasn’t bad at all.  This epidural, this thing that I hated and dreaded, was my relief.  I was finally able to rest, finally able to recoup my body’s resources for the most difficult task–pushing my son out of the birth canal and into the world.

I slept.  Who knows how long.  The weirdest, most odd sensation was having Troy & the nurses flip me over as I dozed.  I would awaken, someone would tell me something and I would nod my agreement, and then I would be flipped.  Then off into oblivion I would slip again.  It wasn’t terrible, especially because my body was just so tired and sore already.  Then, finally, I had rested a long time and my body was preparing.  They kept upping and upping my Pit. so that the contractions were coming close enough together.  He was almost going to make his arrival.  I looked at the clock.  It was almost 8 p.m. 

My midwife came and checked me.  We squealed with delight together to know that I was fully dilated.  After being so mad each time when I would have no progress, after all of the painful contractions, I was overjoyed that my womb was finally agreeable.  These moments feel so surreal to me now–the feeling of anticipation almost overwhelming.  One second she was telling everyone that I was fully dilated, the next I was feeling this strong urge to push.  I was so glad I felt that urge, because I didn’t know if even that primal sensation, that instinct, would be taken from me with the complete haze of drugs.  Pushing was completely exhausting.  I pushed, I pushed, and pushed.  There was some progress.  I kept on pushing.  My midwife told me, “Miranda, you’re close, but if you can’t push him out we might have to get the doctor to help assist with forceps.”  THAT was IT.  I pushed harder than I ever had.  I would NOT allow my child to come into the world being plucked from the womb like a little specimen, with cold unloving forceps. That was too much for me.  And that did it.  After almost two hours of pushing, my sweet little baby came into the world crying.  He was placed on my chest directly, just as I had hoped.

 

He looked as tired as I did.  He was so small, yet so large to me as well.  A new person on my chest there.  He was directly on my chest, skin-to-skin, heart to heart with his mother.  For better or for worse, we were one anothers.  For all the pains and all the joys we would experience, they would be together.  I couldn’t believe it. 

Image

5/25/12, 9:38 P.M.  He came to be with us. After over 33 hours of crazy labor!

And then, after things had quieted down, the most miraculous thing happened.  Something I’ll never forget.  After all that had happened, all the drugs that had to be administered, everything that went wrong in my eyes… something so completely beautiful.  I wanted to breastfeed so badly.  I didn’t know if that would work out so well, now that my body and baby were medicated strongly.  Instead of worrying about anything–I couldn’t worry, as I was too exhausted. So I just lay there with my baby, enjoying him. And he did it all by himself. He crept up to my breast, and started suckling like he knew exactly how to do it, and knew exactly what he needed. It was a true miracle to me. A gift. A beautiful thing that I didn’t think was possible.

And yet it was. A lot of other things went on after that, and we had to take a nasty trip to the NICU, but most of all this is our story. God provided for us incredibly through painful and difficult times. The people who surrounded us, who ministered to us, and who cared for us in that time were just incredible. Not to mention an amazingly developed, sweet, smart little boy is in our midst, and it is all unbeliveable to me still. This tiny human is ours.

All my love,

-M

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Jul 28 2012
3 Comments
Pregnancy, Value, Womanhood

The Story of August’s Birth Pt. 1


Remember these shots? Thirty Three, Thirty Five, and then Thirty Eight weeks pregnant. With baby A. Not nearly as large as I would be at 41 weeks… I was huge. Not yet baby August, as the world would know him, but a secret name only we and a few family members knew. That was one of the fun things about pregnancy–keeping our name a secret! We loved it. For us it did a few things: People would keep asking, but it was our own choice and our own timing. It allowed us the freedom to keep a secret to ourselves. It also allowed us to not worry what people thought about the name beforehand, because they did not have a say in it. We had chosen it, and they could gracefully enjoy it once he was born. : )

I think making decisions like keeping the name a secret during pregnancy are important because the experiences is yours, not anyone elses. Of course, those who choose to tell the name are also in their own right to do so. But pregnancy is a time of decision, a time of commitment, and a time of intense preparation that many do not understand or grasp. Especially in the last twenty or so years, I think our culture has really skyrocketed the notion of having “your birth experience,” and becoming educated. Most notably, I think this decade is a time when women are questioning medicine’s complete and unwavering authority, because more and more people are beginning to see the birth process holistically, and not treating it as a medical condition.


(This is what I looked like the day before we went in to the birthing center. Look how swollen my face is! Alas, the joys of the end of pregnancy.)

However–My birth experience was not what I had envisioned –not “holistic” or “natural.” It began very medically, with the use of Cervadil, a drug that I didn’t think would be necessary. At nearly 42 weeks pregnant, my body was showing close to none of the common expected signs of impending labor. My water did not break. My mucus plug did not come out (that I could tell), and I did not have strong or steady contractions at any time, even when we arrived at the birth center to begin induction. My birth began with my own decision that it was time, because I felt a few contractions that were strong, and honestly I didn’t know how safe it was to keep my little guy inside. I had been advised by numerous people, and I didn’t want to jeopardize the life of my baby. So, in a state of heightened stress and awareness, we set off for the birth center.

Things did not begin well. A nurse who I had previously not at all enjoyed was actually there during the beginning of my induction. She was forceful, rude, and her personality just didn’t mesh with me. She wouldn’t have liked to be treated the way she was treating me. And to be truthful, I think that the staff you are surrounded by will greatly affect your experience, so I did NOT want to deal with her seeing my girly parts and being the person I called on for help.

When she asked if she could check to see if I was dilated, I told her no–I would please like a different nurse to be taking care of me. Funny, I know there weren’t many people on staff that evening, and I know it was probably a pain in the butt for them to have to call my midwife (who was on call), but I do have rights as a patient. I feel the birth center staff was almost shocked at my request to receive care from another individual. Receiving care from someone I neither trusted or liked was not on my list of to-do’s during my son’s birth. I tried to be peaceful, but it was really hard. So anyhow, after that initial, stressful runaround, my midwife came in, administered the Cervadil, and so, we waited.

It stayed in for 8 hours. This was the fun, waiting, nothing’s happening, semi-boring, not actually fun time. Which then continued for even longer. My cervix was not responding very much to the drug. To add to the stress of things not going nearly as we had hoped (no drug-free birth for me, but perhaps I could still have a waterbirth?!) my midwife was gone now, because her daughter’s graduation was going on, and another midwife who I did not know nearly as well would be with me. She turned out to be wonderful–in the midst of everything going haywire, God provided a person who coached me and helped advise me, and did not pressure me into anything. Which was what I really needed. An advisor, not a pressure-pusher. So she advised bouncing on the birth ball, walking, etc. Troy & I went out, on a very very hot day in May, and walked around. My contractions were increasing, things were going better. I had to take breaks and really steady my concentration, and bring myself inward. That was a good sign. I think it made it easier to bear these contractions, knowing that I needed them to happen, and knowing they were bringing me closer to my baby.

So we walked and walked, in the blistering sun, and then went inside. I was placed on the monitor intermittently, to make sure baby was okay–but those things are so touchy anyhow. They kept picking up an irregular heartbeat but it was just because I had moved around a little bit. We walked more. We walked so much around that hospital–seeing people looking at us and smiling, knowing what we were doing. Some of them offered an encouraging, “You can do it!” Which was nice. So hours and hours of waiting, and trying, and then getting checked for dilation, and no progress really being made. All of the details of my birth aren’t completely clear to me, even now, because of all the stress involved. But I do know that it was a very long time. We went up and down and finally, I started to dilate more and contractions began to come on more. How exciting!!! Feeling like we were actually going to meet this baby, that he was real and was soon going to enter our lives in a very real way, was what pushed us forward. The nurse started to get the room ready for my waterbirth, since I hadn’t had an epidural and would still be allowed to do waterbirth. So I got into my waterbirth gear:

The nurse said that maybe I could take a warm shower while she was prepping, to help me relax. Unfortunately, that stopped my dilation and contractions, I guess because I was not in real active labor, and before that begins a lot of things can cause contractions to lag. SO… I never really got the contractions to begin again, and my waterbirth plans fell apart. No waterbirth for this girl.

Frustration. Disappointment. Disillusionment. These were all things that I felt during my birth experience. Wondering where my God was when I needed him. What was he doing, anyhow? All of my doubts combined when I finally had to make the decision to begin pitocin. I was so thankful, at this birth center, they never pushed me into those things, but told me that they thought it might be time to try something new because I was making no progress. I had been in labor for such a long time that my body was exhausted already, and I hadn’t done the hard, exhilirating part–the push. Troy & I made the tough decision to start pitocin, and I went through five hours of painful torture. No lies, pit sucks. If you’ve ever experienced it, as one of my friends said, you would “describe the worst pain in the world,” most likely. I did that for the five hours, held my ground and stood tough. But it was so, so hard. And then…

I’ll have to fill you in on more in Birth Story, Part Two.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Jun 13 2012
1 Comment
Family, Mommyhood, Pregnancy

Our Baby: August Irvin


(This is a bit belated, please do forgive me. You know, I’ve been doing all of this mothering stuff–and looks like it’s a lot of work! : ) But oh so worth it)


(This photo was taken by the staff at our birthing center the day after he was born)

The little man himself, the one we have been anticipating so long, finally, painstakingly entered this world at 9:38 p.m. on Friday, May 25! I remember how relieved I was to see him, to see his cute little face, hear his first cries, and to feel the immediate and overwhelming love I had for him gushing into my soul. I was relieved because of what a long, tiresome process our birth turned into–and after such a long wait (41 weeks and 5 days, darn it!) he was all I cared about.

I loved him instantly with more passion, more zeal, and more motherly firey fury to protect than I thought possible. Oh, but it was. Entirely possible, and all growing by the minute as I write.

(Look how much he changed in just a week or so! The birth center staff took this one later on, when we came back for a visit.)

Let me tell you, he’s cute! Do you see those amazing cheeks? Yup. I love to kiss them so much it’s just incredible.

He’s cuddly.

He can scream (loudly) and shriek, coo and squeal.

He poops.. a lot more than I could’ve ever thought. OF course. But hey, I’m proud of those good breastfed poops that mean he’s really healthy and gaining weight as he should be!

His eyes are this brownish gray color, and when he looks at me I feel like I’m the only person on the planet that matters to him (hmm… doesn’t that sound an awful lot like how my husband made me feel when we first fell in love? Yep! Already following in daddy’s footsteps) and he fascinates me. I wonder what he’s thinking, and what he dreams when he sleeps. When he’s awake, he intently studies my face as though he has just seen it for the first time, especially when I make faces at him and talk to him. Amazing.

Troy is so involved. He’s doing everything he can to learn the ropes and be a good daddy, learning how to nurture, learning how to love on this tiny little being. He’s doing a fantastic job and I couldn’t be more proud of both of them when I look into August’s room and see dad rocking him and staring at him. What a beautiful thing to see.

He is teaching me so many things. Most of all, right now, how to be patient with myself and with him. How to let my schedule go (as if I had one) and just roll with the punches of babyhood. How to allow the dishwasher to stay unloaded and let that load of laundry stay where it is for a little while longer because those things hardly matter much in these early days. How to let my guard down and enjoy him and being a mother. And everything that means. Troy & I are learning how to communicate with a little one around, and how vital it is that we continue to communicate. That we take time in the evenings for ourselves when he’s sleeping for awhile. That we help one another and learn how to express frustration (which abounds these days) in a healthy, and unaccusing way. It’s a good process, we’re a good team even on the rough days.

Mostly, we are so thankful.

That’s all for now, but there’s more to come, and I’ll eventually write our birth story. Promise!

-M

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
May 19 2012
1 Comment
Conscientious, Education, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Value, Womanhood

Decisions, decisions


Hello again, here I am again.  Pouring my thoughts like so many bright colors of oozing paint onto a blank canvas, then stepping back to see what will come of it.  This canvas has a LOT of paint on it… let me tell you– this post contains a bit of of birth jargon and fun medical mumbo-jumbo.  You have been warned.  : )

These days have been about distraction, lest we allow ourselves to succumb to madness: Distraction from myself and my headful of thoughts–there’s so much at the end here that’s happening!  From this neverending yet certainly ending soon–pregnancy.  Distraction from people who mostly, probably, certainly mean well but who occasionally make my head hurt with questions, demands, etc. questioning my ability to be a mother and birth properly.. Hmph…. Distraction from the decisions we will have to make shortly.  You see what I’m getting at, I’m sure.

Here are a few upcoming decisions for the Irvins, just to name some: circumcision (ugh, such a hard choice! The AAP is so non-committal about all of it, and most people I talk to base their reason for circumcising on what their husband had done, or what they think is normal… which is all well and good to take into account, but not a solid reason for us to allow a medical procedure, which is irreversible, to be performed on our son… ), medical interventions (to induce, to wait it out…. the pros, the cons?) changing my mind or sticking to our original plan (we’re scheduled to begin induction with Cervidil  on Tuesday, but depending on how far along things are, we may call it off). 

Everything happened in a flash… We were taken by surprise at my last appointment when we found that I am only at 1 cm dilated, which is where I was at 36 weeks, and a little more than 50% effaced.  This is astounding, but there’s nothing I can do to help it along.  I’ve been taking all of the things my midwife has given me, Evening Primrose, a special “Labor Induce” tincture, etc… but my body is doing what it’s doing.  I will be at 41 weeks tomorrow, and my body is not showing signs of labor.  That doesn’t mean it’s not going to go into labor though!  But we were sitting there last week, discussing so many ifs, ands, whens… and suddenly we had made an appointment for a tentative.. induction…. That word makes me freak out.  I hate it.  It makes me feel like I’m going in to have my nails painted because I can.  There are lots of inductions, I know, and some more gentle or natural than others, but I just never imagined I’d be here.  I guess this is where the advice to “prepare for the unexpected” comes in–so I’m trying to keep my cool and just trust God to know what’s going down, even when I totally don’t.

As of now I am torn, and here’s my predicament: I want as natural a birth as possible–the first medical intervention that occurs leaves many more opportunities for further intervention.  Example:  Cervidil, the artificial prostaglandin that I may be administered, may (or may not) create contractions that really, really hurt (along with ripening my cervix)… just like Pitocin (an artifical form of oxytocin), and which can put the baby under distress.  If contractions get too strong, which they often do with artificial means, the baby does not handle them well and the heart rate may become abnormal.

This process may (so many mights or might-nots!) put me through so much pain that I need pain relief drugs, a narcotic (a nubain cocktail is what my midwife usually uses) or an epidural (my absolute LAST resort, absolutely…) Then… if contractions continue to be very strong, the baby could be critically distressed and –BAM–that’s how the majority of C-Sections happen for mamas and babies… not something I ever want to happen. In fact, my worst nightmare. Of course I know I’ll likely be okay if these things happen, but I really don’t want them to. But, I also see that there are extenuating circumstances.  When the baby is at all at risk, all of my natural birth hopes go down the crapper.  Nothing is more important than getting baby A here, safely.  But there are such toss-ups!  I firmly believe that science and OB’s know hardly anything about a pregnant woman’s body.  They know hardly anything about pregnancy and what’s “normal.”  There IS no normal–but everyone wants to label things in a certain range… humans love to do that for some reason. 

Anyhow, I realize I still didn’t get down to what the real toss-up decision is here!  Here it is: My body could still spontaneously go into labor, even after another week of being pregnant.  At 42 weeks and 2 days I could pop him out!  But… there are a lot of risks involved after 41 weeks, many professionals say.  The placenta is not meant to last forever, and after 41 weeks it seems to fair more poorly in functioning.  The baby has more risk of passing meconium (its first little baby poop) which can be inhaled and cause problems breathing where it must be sucked out of the lungs.  Ahem. See what I mean? 

There’s also another factor hubs & I have had to consider: I need my midwife.  She will not be available certain days and I do not think that’s a good reason for me to do an “elective induction” as this would be called, but I also don’t trust the other providers.  The two doctors aren’t really natural-birth minded at all, and the other midwife just didn’t seem to mesh with my personality.  My midwife is so calm, so collected.  She’s like a gentle giant who I trust with my life.  So I really want her there at my baby’s delivery if at all possible. But is this the best thing for my baby?  Is this the best thing for my body?  God designed it to work properly and there’s no reason it can’t.  I’m healthy, baby’s healthy, and yet it’s quite a stab in the dark wondering where the risk increases.

(insert big huge sigh) I need God’s guidance.  I need His peace more than anything.  I’ve been asking, and there are moments of restfulness when I feel completely confident that we will know what to do when it comes time.  But then there are moments of intense panic when I worry that something bad will happen.

 I know that I am more educated than many women my age who have labored, and I’m not saying that out of pride–it’s the truth.  I was interested in the medicalization of childbirth in America, and the birth process in general, before I was pregnant, so I knew a few things, but I really dove in during pregnancy because I never want to be counted among the uneducated masses who simply listens to a professional because, well, they’re a professional.  I have my own rights and decisions, and must do my “due diligence” to learn what I can. But somehow it’s never enough because I must give myself over to God’s grace. I know this. I must give my struggle for control over the unknown to Him, because He is my caring father. He is my provider. He is our savior. See, I do realize I’m struggling with control. ;) I’m not totally in the closet with that, but not totally out either. Ha.

When you’ve educated yourself, prayed hard, and consulted trusted friends…yet cannot seem to get to a good peace of mind, where do you turn?

That’s why distraction has been the name of the game. Modern Family-aholics right here.  Art projects.  House projects. Taking long walks. Shopping. Stocking up on food. Watching paint dry.. okay, not that one, I was just seeing if you made it through this rambling post. :)

If you have a moment, friends, I could use your prayers. Much love.

-M

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
May 07 2012
Leave a comment
Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Womanhood

39 weeks 1 day


There’s a lot going down.

And up. And out. My belly, particularly. This remarkable mass of life that is growing and stretching and forming our little one. It’s a miracle. I feel it can get no larger–and then it shockingly does!

The surprising news of the hour is that the due date I’ve been carrying around with me in my head (the 18th) for about 8 months, is not the due date my midwife has been going by! Alas, how could I be so mistaken, you ask? Who knows. Confusion, mix-up, etc. I don’t blame myself too much since they changed my due date about three times, but it’s pretty funny. A day that truly matters so little (just an estimate) means so much! It is what every person asks you (who doesn’t know you) immediately when they see your huge, protruding abdomen. Yes, it gets annoying to keep starting dead-end conversations with that date. There’s really nothing much to follow up with other than, “Yeah, it’s really exciting.” Yet you have no idea when it will happen!!! But this new revelation means that he may come sooner than I had expected. Woah!!!

So anyhow–Our due date is actually Mother’s Day! I wonder if it will really happen then? The magazines, online articles, and books all say it probably won’t, most often, occur on THE day, but within 10 or so days, before or after. This waiting game is truly driving hubby & I insane, though we are trying to use it to its capacity: fixing a LOT of things up, trying to get in some time together, and praying that God will guide us through these next weeks as only He can. We have to say it is scary. I don’t want to call it that, but it is. It is exciting and terrifying and awe-inspiring all wrapped together in a mush of emotion. Emotion that hits you smack in the face when you least expect it–by any little thing at all. I’ve done a lot over my entire pregnancy to try to reverse the “scare-factor” that our society dearly loves instilling in young women, when it comes to labor. I have read, I have discussed, I have repeated to myself positive affirmations about my body and God’s strength. But the fear of labor is still lingering of course. It’s something I’ve never experienced and I can’t even compare any life experience to it. Fear is a normal reaction, unfortunately. Pray for me, friend.

This little boy has shaped our world–made me wonder who I want to be. Made me think twice about my decisions, my ideas, the things I’m living and fighting for. It’s amazing and so, so BIG.

Also, hormones have been raging, as they tend to do, within me–and I can tell at least SOMETHING is going on with my body… but I feel about as close to labor as I was ten weeks ago. The last contractions I had were about 2 weeks ago, and each time my midwife asks if I’ve had any I feel a little sad. But perhaps my labor will just be dramatic, and happen all of a sudden! That will make it very, very real. Very crazy. But I almost prefer it to something that happens slowly over time, and gradually. I’m ready for this. I’ve prepared so much, and whats more, my God is taking care of me.

I am so ready to meet this baby! I am so ready to hold him, to kiss his sweet face, to gaze at his tiny fingers and toes. I am so ready to be even more stunned by the creation God has given to us–by this process of growing and living and dying that we are all involved with. I think that having a son is going to challenge us, please us, hurt us, excite us, and make us laugh uncontrollably, as well. This is just the very start.

So little guy, When are you coming?!!!!!!?? Can you tell I’m a little bit of a spaz these days? 8)

Tagged , , , ,
Mar 10 2012
2 Comments
Family, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Womanhood

Closer: 31 Weeks


This photo is from our belly shoot, done by a lovely and talented woman we know from our community at church. It was such a fun time. I felt so beautiful, thinking about our little blossoming baby growing inside me. I now feel so, so, so much bigger than I was in this photo! Tonight an old man at wal-mart loudly exclaimed “Big Ol’ Belly!” as I walked past–it took everything I had (and thank goodness that my loving, gracious husband was around and helped me walk away and take a breath) not to give him the death glare and tell him “No, ya think!!? YOU have a “BIG OL’ BELLY!”…(rolling eyes)” But this pleasant little wal-mart run-in at least confirmed my sneaking suspicions that I am indeed growing bigger by the minute. It’s a strange feeling having that happen in front of the whole world–something I wish more pregnant ladies would discuss. Just imagine if another visible part of our bodies expanded so much over the same amount of time–we’d all need to talk about it! But now that I’m experiencing it: it’s a strange mixture between being a publicly on-display freak at a circus show some of the time, and yet also feeling like a very celebrated and important individual when you walk into a room at other times. Depending on which room, I guess, and with whom. And as an ambassador and believer in Christ, it’s my job to balance my own pride and anger (who do they think they are, trying to touch my belly or talk to me about my pregnancy! They don’t even know me!) as well as infuse the grace and peace of the gospel into people’s lives as I interact with them on these… semi-touchy subjects. A woman’s body is her body, and I will not step back from telling strangers to please mind my personal space, but it can be done with love. I digress.

So, tomorrow. Tomorrow will herald the beginning of the 31st week, and from then it could be only seven, eight, or nine weeks until he’s here. Or more. Come on, full term!!–and not a second more… please? Of course, I realize I have no control over this at all. I’m just hoping that my labor will progress and not stall because of fear or tension, and I’ve taken measures to help that happen: learning to breathe, relaxation techniques, etc. Since I’ve dealt with stress issues my whole life, I feel I have prepared a lot in the past for this very thing in my pregnancy. Trying to do what I need to do to prep and open my body and mind to the idea of pushing this baby out into the world. What a task! What a job! But there’s nothing more natural in the wide, vast world. Of this I must remind myself, “You were born for this.” And I’m certain every step I take towards “Go Day” that my confidence is building up toward that idea. It’s not easy, but I’m sure when I finally look into his eyes with tears in my own, and stare at his perfectly formed little face, nothing else will resonate but this train of thoughts: “Wonderfully knit together within me. Intended for and gracefully crafted. Beautiful.” This child was no accident, and the more I think of him as a true, separate person from me, and not just a part of my body like he seems, the more I know it to be truth. He will have his own life, God has plans for him unique to him as an individual. So awesome.

He’s going to rock my world. He’s going to rock Troy’s. It’s happening already–but we’re ready for it, anticipating, and some real excitement is building.

By this point, our deep awe and surprise and disbelief that a tiny human could truly be growing within me has somewhat subsided, and real joy wrapped in much excitement has begun moving forward to take the stage. We lie in bed at night and go over the days event’s, realizing that it feels our days are blending together and going so quickly–we sit, sort of holding our breath, with our hands on my belly waiting for the next big kick from our little man. When he has the hiccups, I smile and rub him for a little hello. I daydream more often than I did at first about how he will be, how he will look when I first lay eyes on him.

We’re getting there. It’s coming closer. Through it all, I am trying to do my part, and also embrace what actually occurs. Not always easy, but something to work towards. We are beginning to do more to get the nursery ready, and perhaps there’s even light at the end of the tunnel. Much to be done, much has already been done, and much more will come in the future.

With all my love at 31 weeks,

-M

Tagged , , , , ,
Feb 21 2012
Leave a comment
Mommyhood, Pregnancy, Womanhood

Being Prepared


So of course, you know the journey we’re on. It’s mostly all I can write/think/talk about for now. Of course, life has those interests and pleasures and joys that have nothing to do with small babies, but for the most part I am spent away dreaming of what my little guy will be like, what labor will entail, and how to prep myself and hubby for it. And that’s the way it should be: the growth that occurs during pregnancy and the coming onset of labor are so intense–how could I get them out of my mind!? Especially in the last few weeks, when our little man has made some fantastic leaps and bounds towards life outside the womb.

He hiccups ALL. THE. TIME. now.
It’s made me laugh numerous evenings, when I’ll be lying in bed, and I’ll let out a small chortle. Then in a few seconds, I’ll giggle again. I exclaimed yesterday, “Well babe, looks like this is the nightly ritual for our guy!” And I do find it a little strange that nobody quite knows what causes in-utero hiccups to occur like crazy, but so far in my research I like the idea of the hiccups helping to work the muscles necessary to his little lungs for breathing. I love it.

I’m definitely starting to get big. B-I-G, yo.
For real. There’s no denying this one, my belly is very noticeable. And everyone needs to say something. Sometimes this makes me laugh, smile, and feel generally loved and adored by many–then other days I wish they would just shut up and mind their own business. I suppose it’s something to struggle with when you’re publicly on display and everyone’s “allowed” to ask their questions of you. I believe I may have mastered the art of the “smile & nod.. and walk quickly away” with some degree of grace, but it certainly is difficult. I try to focus on the fact that I’m carrying a living being, that God chose me for this assignment in life, and that is pretty fascinating. And incredible. I try to love my big belly every day, try to think of it as my son’s first home (which it is) and am even trying to celebrate my FIRST REAL STRETCH MARKS… which made their appearance this week. I will not loathe them, I will celebrate them! They mean he’s getting stronger and more ready for the world!

His eyes are open!That just makes me smile. He can look around my womb. Something that nobody has ever done, and it’s his own private little living space for the next few months. He’s practicing for the day when he will be able to look around with amazement at this wide ole world. I always get filled with joy uncontainable when I see a new baby looking excitedly and with surprise all around them. I have to remember that the entire world is a new place for him or her. Every sound, every color, everything. God is so glorious in His creation & the means he uses to make it all happen.

As you can see, little guy is doing a lot. I can feel him often, he likes music, he enjoys rolling around and kicking me strongly from time to time. One of the most precious things that happened recently was when Troy got to feel some BIG, STRONG kicks. He had felt the flutters, but these are ginormous in comparison! I can feel him growing inside me, my belly feels all stretched and very tired at times. How can you explain that tired belly feeling to anyone who has never or will never experience it? This eludes me. But while my body is tired my brain is on overdrive: there is much to be done and much to settle our minds on before this little man gets here, but most of all, we must thank God for all of his provisions and remember (NO MATTER: how many things are still undone, how many things don’t seem to be going according to plan, etc.) that we have one another, that we have a great God, and that our little one is healthy and happy as a clam. Troy has to remind me because it makes me anxious looking at an un-finished, undecorated baby room. But he’s very good at reminding and comforting, and God knows how to take care of us, so I trust that.

Here are a few things I’ve been doing to prep:

A) Making lists of everything. Just in case. What to bring to the hospital. What to use during labor in order to help with pain/help me focus/help spur me onward. Rolling pin, teabags, massage oil, cute nightgown, fan, Seinfeld (to make us laugh, of course) frozen soda cans, scriptures about mothers and labor, a casette tape of a gurgling stream that we bought in TN… hm.. lots of ideas there.

B) Exercises from the book “Active Labor” in order to help my body stay in shape for the marathon that is labor. I’m going to do this naturally–no ifs, ands, or buts about it. That’s the mindset I have to have, I must steel myself if I want to do this. I know things may not ALL go according to plan, but that’s okay. I want my determination to be there no matter what. A few super helpful poses to practice have been: Tailor pose, Cat Cow pose, lots and lots of squats, and practicing low squatting for a minute at a time. I’ve also kept up a normal workout routine (albeit somewhat modified and thrown away if I feel really tired that day) that I make sure I’m doing a few times a week. I lift weights like usual, walk, do yoga, and have my Lindsay Brin DVD sets. Really great.

C) Reading, reading, reading. Ina May Gaskin’s book “Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth” has really been an eye-opener for me. Who even knew that ultrasound wasn’t very well researched by the medical field before it just burst onto the OB scene and became common practice? I sure didn’t. If I had known what I know now, who knows if I would’ve even decided to get an ultrasound at all. Don’t get me wrong–I’m super thankful that I have been able to see my baby kicking and moving and doing all these adorable things. But I am VERY cautious with all of the practices that the medical world uses because HALF of them are only for convenience sake, and not that helpful–the other half are not very well regulated and turn out to be recalled (ahem… baby tylenol.. the recent phizer birth control recall… etc.) about 3 years after they are approved by our standardless FDA. The point is, I’d much rather be less technologically involved yet safe, rather than sorry in any situation. Back to the book, though: Ina May’s Guide is just a very empowering, close look at pregnancy, labor, and the female body’s monumental potential if given the correct care and circumstances. I am so thankful to have a midwife. I am so thankful to have read the birth stories in this book. Great preparation to make sure I know what it will be like (many varied different examples of what it “could” be like!) to help me know that everything is normal even if it feels crazy.

D) Envisioning, praying, vocalizing, having a routine:
This has been immensely helpful to me also. I’m planning to have a natural waterbirth, and so I’ve begun conditioning myself to see the bath as the place I go for comfort, for relaxation before bed, and ultimately as “My Zone.” This has worked out fairly well, because for one 1) how many women don’t see a nice soak in the bath as their relaxing zone? and 2) it’s a perfect way to imagine how my birth will go before I actually have to do it. I am very comfortable being in the bathtub, and I can’t imagine how much more I will be in a very large birthing pool. Praying for God’s guidance while I’m in the tub has been something I’ve tried to do as well. And then vocalizing, well.. while I’m in there, I do a kind of yoga-chant “OMMMM” thing. It’s really great, and you should try it if you need to relax. : )

That’s my big huge preparedness update for you!! We’re into the third trimester now, and it’s all moving so fast.

All my love,

-M

Tagged , , , , , ,
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 38 other followers

%d bloggers like this: