Meeting Eames

I nervously turned the corner of the NICU. I had been told my baby was around that corner, one of the six in that section. I looked at the little faces but didn’t recognize any of them. Evan pointed to the plastic bassinet closest to me, and I looked again at a baby I didn’t recognize. Already, he looked so different than the baby who had emerged from my body two days prior. He was sleeping peacefully, able to relax despite the constant beeps and the numerous wires taped to his tiny body. I looked at him in awe; being separated from my baby for two days had felt like an eternity. He had been rushed away a few hours after birth, the doctors wanting to perform some precautionary tests that were only available at a different hospital 45 minutes away. I barely knew this tiny creature, I’d held him once for only minutes, yet my heart had been in anguish as I had spent two nights in the hospital with empty arms. I felt amazed to see this proof that he really was here, that I really did have a child. The child I had been talking to for 10 months, feeling his kicks and rolls in my stomach. The child that had taken 18 hours of labor before finally making his entrance into this world. The child that I wanted in my arms, more than I had wanted anything in my whole life.

I felt afraid to touch him; being separated had taken away my authority over him as his mother. I hadn’t given him his first meal, changed his first diaper, or helped him throughout his first night outside of my body. After the first night we were separated, I had called the NICU that he was staying in to get an update. When the person on the phone told me about how much my baby enjoyed his pacifier, I sobbed. Why was a completely stranger informing me about what my own child liked? Did he enjoy his pacifier because it was the only comfort he could have right now, as no one was able to be with him at all times?

I approached my son and hesitantly reached out a hand to touch him. I cupped his tiny head; he had more hair than I’d realized. I opened up his burrito style blanket and was shocked at his tiny legs! I didn’t know baby legs could be so skinny (turns out they were pretty normal newborn legs, I just hadn’t been around many newborns).

A nurse joined me and my husband, giving us a tutorial on how navigate the sea of wires so we could hold our son. I tentatively picked him up, again feeling unsure of myself, then held him to my chest as tears of relief streamed down my cheeks; we fit together like puzzle pieces. I rubbed my cheek softly against his head, gently touched his sweet face with my finger, and breathed in the scent of him. Evan waited patiently as I filled all of my senses with the details of our son, then I gently passed him into the arms of his father for the first time. Having even less experiences with newborns than me, Evan awkwardly repositioned the tiny body until he found a comfortable hold. His eyes swept up and down the small bundle, taking his own turn of memorizing the details of this moment.  Time passed as we sat silently and allowed our souls to breathe a sigh of relief at the reunion of our new family. We didn’t have any answers as to how long it would be before we could all go home together, but we weren’t thinking about that just yet. Our gazes switched between looking at our son, and looking at each other, amazed that together we had added one more person to the world. He was here, and he was perfect.

Evelyn's birth story

Here it is. A second birth story. I will say, I am much more excited to write this one than I was to write Eames'-while the actual laboring with him wasn't the worst, it was definitely less than ideal and the aftermath was somewhat traumatic. (read about his story here and here.) Though one might think that that whole experience might have left me nervous about doing it all again, the opposite was actually true. I was so excited for another chance at having a beautiful birth, and I was incredibly confident and optimistic that this second time would be wonderful. The midwife group I chose for my care definitely helped that confidence grow! They're a homebirth midwifery group who also have privileges at a (really great) hospital in the area! I found them because I was really planning and hoping for a homebirth this time, but Evan could never get comfortable with the idea. So since these midwives were able to give the same level of "hands off" care in the hospital as they'd give at home, we found that delivering with them in a hospital was a good middle ground for us (since the closest birthing center, the usual "middle ground", is 2 hours away.) I also used the hypnobabies program that I mentioned in Eames' birth story to prepare for this birth. I didn't end up using it during actual labor with Eames, (though it did serve its purpose preparing me for birth and helping me relax during his ECV) and I really wanted to make better use of it this time around. It proved to be very helpful! Another background before we move on is that my mom had planned on flying in from Utah on my actual due date, April 19th. As it got closer, we kept talking about if she should change it, wondering if she'd be too late, or if the BABY would be too late and my mom would miss the whole thing! (she was only planning on staying a week.) We decided to just leave it as it was and hope for the best, and it worked out perfectly! Now, onto the actual birth story!

My due date came and went, but my mom was excited to actually get to see me pregnant so neither of us minded going an extra day. I felt SO SURE that I'd go into labor that night, figuring that now that my mom was here and would be able to watch Eames, I wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore so my subconscious would be like "hey, baby! let's do this!" and the baby would be like "heck yes, I'm coming!!" However, that was not the case. So I woke up on the 20th and all of the sudden felt like since it hadn't happened yet, I was SURE to go way over and I'd only have my mom for like a day before she had to leave. But there was nothing to do about it except wait and see! So we went to Trader Joes and that night the young women threw me a surprise baby shower! It was pretty exciting that I got to make it, because they too had some concerns about if the baby would allow for me to attend! Went to bed that night feeling the exact same as I'd been feeling-aka absolutely nothing to indicate labor.
The next morning I got up to nurse Eames sometime before 0530. I had had braxton hicks contractions for a couple of weeks, and nursing always brought some on. However, this nursing session I felt my first real contraction ever (with Eames I had 100% back labor, so I still didn't know what a "normal" contraction really felt like!). It definitely caught my attention, especially because it was pretty intense! I had absolutely no question that it was a real one. From that point on, they didn't stop. For the first few hours, they averaged every 2-3 minutes! Super close together for the beginning of labor. But I had read so much about prodomal labor, and was terrified of that happening so I still didn't want to confidently say "this is it!", even though the contractions were definitely legit. Around 8 or so they "slowed down" to about 5 minutes apart. My mom and I took Eames on a walk because I wanted to keep moving so they didn't slow down even more. I had to stop for a couple of them while we were out, but was feeling really good and continued to be able to relax and breathe through them.
I had a WIC appointment that morning at 0930, and since I still wasn't willing to say "yes I am in labor!" I wanted to go to it. It just felt like if I didn't go, I'd be jinxing myself! So, much to our amusement in hindsight, we went to the appointment and I labored through the whole thing. The place I go for my appointments is the Chapel here in the military housing, and I kept joking that everyone thought I was super duper religious because every 5 minutes or so I'd kneel down and bow my head hahaha. But again, at this point I was still feeling totally on top of everything. It was as were walking out to the car that I stopped for a contraction and at that point felt like there was a shift. It didn't necessarily feel way more intense, but it was just different. It was different enough that I felt like now was a good time to tell Evan to head home from work (he's only 5 minutes away.) When we got back to my house I called my midwife and told her that my husband was headed home, and the plan was to install the car seat, finish packing, and then head to the hospital (45 minutes away.) I also mentioned that I was still a little nervous about coming too early to the hospital (I REALLY didn't want to labor there for a long time) She said that our plan sounded great, and to let her know when we were leaving. She also told us that we'd probably beat her to the hospital since she was leaving a homebirth that was pretty far from our hospital. About 20 minutes later we were all ready to go, so I called her and told her we were leaving, and that I was also no longer nervous that this was too early-things were getting real! At this point I was listening to my hypnobabies tracks and didn't feel like I could go without them (they helped me stay relaxed and focused.) During the drive, I started vocalizing through the contractions. There were a few times I felt a little nauseous, and I also started shaking a little bit, which made me think perhaps I was close since those were sometimes signs of transition! Evan, however, had heard me vocalize through 12 hours of contractions with Eames and was ready for a long day of labor.
We drove up to the hospital valet parking and I got into a wheelchair. I continued vocalizing, all through the hospital as Evan pushed me to labor and delivery. It's hilarious to hear him talk about what was going through his head as people somewhat stared at me, but I had gone to that "in between" state and as Evan puts it, wouldn't have cared at that point if I was butt naked on TV. I was a woman in labor, hear me roar!
We made a pit stop in triage before they confirmed that my midwife had called ahead so I could get admitted immediately, then we rolled on into a delivery room. As soon as I was out of the wheelchair I asked Evan to do counter pressure during my contractions. I asked the nurse if I could get into a tub, but she said that they had to monitor the baby first and get some stats (or something like that...all I registered was "no" Then was like "okay, now get through current contraction")
I then had to get onto the bed while they monitored the baby. I laid down, and very quickly rolled onto my side and held onto the side bar because that's what felt good. My low toned vocalizing soon turned into opera as the contractions came. Soon I realized I was pushing, and very soon after that my water broke (or exploded.) Evan informed the nurse that my water had broke, she asked when and he said "now." The nurse called "I'm going to need help in here" and a birth team assembled. My cervix was checked and I later mentioned to the nurse that that was the best cervix check I'd ever had! (I absolutely DESPISE cervical checks.) She said, "that's because there was nothing to check!" I was fully dilated.My midwife, however, had yet to arrive, so a doctor called a "laborist" was there, his job being to step in if/when doctors or midwives weren't there for births of their patients! I rolled onto my back to push and soon a little baby head was out. I paused and the laborist said to go ahead and push [her] shoulders out, and then he said "she's here!"
She! a girl! She was placed onto my chest with her cord intact, just like it should be. She was tiny and scrunchy faced and amazing. It felt like a dream, it was crazy how quickly it had happened. Turns out we had only been there for about 20 minutes! We'd left for the hospital around 11, and Evelyn was born at 1203. From first contraction to delivery, it was less than 7 hours! Evan was also pretty surprised at how quickly it happened, since he was ready to "set up camp" and get through 12 hours of labor! He hadn't even had a chance to tell his family that we were headed to the hospital-they just suddenly got a picture of a baby. 

I got a couple of stitches for some minor tearing, and then we were left to bond and breastfeed and adore the tiny little baby we had made! Evie was never taken away from me, not even for a second. My friend (who had planned on coming to the actual birth, but it didn't work out) my mom, and Eames came to the hospital around 4. For months, I had been really worried about Eames and being apart from him for a long time while in labor, but that was another thing that worked out so beautifully! It was barely an afternoon that he was away from us. That night Evan took Eames home and my mom stayed at the hospital with me. We were able to get early discharge and left the next evening around 6! We didn't go home with Eames until he was 5 days old, so going home so early with Evelyn made her first week feel very long-in a good way! My mom stayed a total of 8 days, and Evan still had an additional week of paternity leave when she left. The stitches really sucked for the first 10 days or so post partum, and I didn't feel as good as I thought I would with such a great delivery. But in reality, I think I was being unrealistic about how I *should* be feeling. We're now 3 weeks in and I feel great. I swear Eames has gained about 5 pounds from my milk coming in lol and Evie is packing it on as well-she's gained over a pound already!

This birth was everything I had ever hoped for. I'm so proud of and thankful for my body. It felt wonderful to go into labor unafraid-just excited and confident and trusting that my body knew what to do. I LOVED pushing on my own-that was something I really hated about my experience with Eames. Not only because it was directed pushing, but because the way I was treated left me feeling like me and body couldn't do it, that I wasn't capable. But guess what? I DO know how to push a baby out! I feel so empowered from this birth, and that has lead me to a decision-I am absolutely going to become a doula someday. 

I wish that every woman could look back on her experience of bringing a human into this world with happiness and confidence. The type of birth isn't what matters-vaginal, c-section, drug free, epidural, full term, induction, home, birth center, hospital-those things will always vary, and what's important for one woman will be different than what's important for another. What truly matters is:

A woman being able to make informed, educated decisions. 

A woman feeling supported and cared for during such a vulnerable time. 

A woman going into this life altering experience unafraid! Because the opportunity to bring LIFE into this world, to give a spirit a body, is an incredible and beautiful one. 

I fully believe that labor was not meant to be a horrific, terrifying event. It is something to be celebrated, and NOT just the end result! (a healthy mom and a healthy baby) The whole journey-pregnancy, labor, delivery and motherhood-they are all connected. All should be celebrated and something that a woman can look forward to. So, I am going to do what I can to help women feel good about birth. I hope that I can make a difference, even  if it's just one woman. It's sort of unfortunate that since babies are born everyday, the fact that a woman just went through childbirth can seem commonplace on a large scale. But it's important to remember that individually, that birth for that woman is a universe altering event, and that every woman's story and journey matters. 

Evelyn Elizabeth
7 lbs 2 oz
20 inches long
April 21, 2016 at 1203

Eames learning to be gentle to his baby sister

My mom holding Evie

When I first saw this photo, I thought it was Eames in a pink hat!

I'd also like to share some resources that have helped me gain confidence in relation to pregnancy, birth, being a mother and simply being a woman:
The 4th Trimester Bodies Project
January Harshe and her Take Back Postpartum/Birth Without Fear community
The Milk Meg
I follow all of these things on Instagram, and filling my feed with what real women's bodies look like has truly changed my perception-I no longer see belly rolls, stretch marks, or cellulite as bad. They are normal! It has helped me appreciate my body so much. I am more confident now (after having two children!) than I have ever been in my life. My body is strong and it is beautiful, and I never want to take it for granted or think badly about it. It deserves to be loved and taken care of! And now that I have a daughter, I'm even more grateful that I have come to this place of loving my body, because that is a great gift that I can give her!

Loving oneself

I've been inspired recently.

It seems that there is this movement going on of learning to love oneself. From the Dove Real Beauty Sketches, to the Australian mom who's picture showing her fit "before" and softer "after" picture went viral, to the beautiful, inspirational 4th trimester bodies project, plus other incidental, smaller scale articles that have popped onto my Facebook feed, it seems to be all around me. But what really sealed the deal was the other day when this article was shared by a long ago co-worker.
The author talks about beauty in other cultures:

"It is all simply perspective. I learned that beauty in other cultures differs significantly to our western views. In Tonga, the more of the woman the better; in Tahiti, body hair and natural, puffy nipples are desired; women from a tribe in Ethiopia have their bodies scarred from birth to be more attractive to their future husbands. In France, underarm hair is considered sexy, and in Northern Thailand, long necks are admired."

I feel more comfortable in my body after having Eames than I ever have, and I want to keep it that way. I have decided to really, truly commit myself to speaking lovingly to myself, about myself, and to do all that I can to stop focusing on what the culture I was raised in has deemed beautiful and desirable. 

I have stretch marks, a soft back, a thicker waist, and wider hips than I did before (let's not even TALK about my boobs). The old me would have been extremely concerned about all of these things, but I have decided to refuse to let it get me down. Because I am also healthy, and I am strong, both physically and mentally. I want to eat well because my body deserves it, not because I'm concerned about being judged at the swimming pool* or not having one little bit of fat hang over my pants at any given moment*. I want to exercise because it makes me feel strong and powerful, not because I "have to" in order to get a tighter tush*. I want to get out of the shower and smile at myself when I look in the mirror. The biggest one, that is definitely going to take the MOST work, is allowing myself to be photographed without stressing about how fat/thin I may look depending on the angle*. Because whatever that camera captures, is ME. And when it comes down to it, I really do love me, inside and out. Even if sometimes I forget it. 

In order for someone to love themselves, I do believe they need to be taking care of themselves. For some, maybe that's a vegan and yoga lifestyle. For others, an all-over-the-world diet along with a hike-every-mountain mentality. And even others, an "I want to be as strong as a freight train" attitude in the gym (because feeling strong physically helps them feel strong mentally) with a guilt free indulgence every Saturday night might work for them. There are many ways to eat healthily and to take care of yourself physically WITHOUT getting caught up in the appearances of it all, you just need to find it. Find the exercise that feels good to you, that makes you feel better about yourself and that truly releases your endorphins, then fill the rest of your life with things that help you realize what life is really about.

Hiking a mountain seems to give me the best perspective more than anything else out there. It reminds me just how beautiful the Earth is, how simple life can and should be, how grateful I am to God and all of His creations, and that, in the end, there are just so many damn things that are more important than if I have a six pack or not.

{*all concerns that once plagued me} 

Birth Story, part two-Eames

Part one, here.

The version was scheduled for 10:00 that morning. Though my midwife had told me to come at 7:00, apparently the nurses weren't expecting me until 9:00. It wasn't a big deal though, we just got in some extra monitoring time, and played some Uno :)

So, the doctor. He has a somewhat complicated last name, so everyone calls him Dr Tom. My midwife had scheduled everything around his schedule; she told me that he was extremely good at what he did, especially concerning ECV's and cesareans, but still had an attitude that would be very complimentary to my "as little intervention as possible" wishes. It boosted my confidence to have him on my side!
Now, my midwife. So, as I mentioned, I actually saw a team of midwives during my prenatal care. All of them were wonderful, but I had a favorite: Pat. Pat is Irish, and so motherly and wonderful. I had hoped my whole pregnancy that I could deliver with her. Well, guess who was starting a 36 hour shift that very morning?! I was so thrilled to have her. That also made me feel hopeful, no matter what happened.

10:00 finally came, and baby's stats were all double checked, as well as positioning (yep, still breech!). I used my Hypnobabies to help me relax during the procedure, which everyone insisted afterward was a major contributor to the outcome. I'm assuming it took about 30-40 minutes, but the only thing I have to base that on is that once they succeeded (yay!!!) my water was broken to keep the baby head down, and that happened right around 11:00. It turned out I had had a few contractions during the procedure, small ones but definitely contractions! That was exciting to me, that my body was doing SOMETHING on its own, which would hopefully mean a better response to the induction-I really didn't want to start at nothing! Then, when they checked my cervix, I was somewhat dilated and effaced. I honestly don't remember the exact numbers, maybe something like a 3 and 50%? Enough to know that something was happening, but not enough to really say I was necessarily on my way.
I had to stay on the monitors for a few hours to make sure that the baby was "tolerating the procedure", as sometimes ECV's may lead to distress. I apparently continued having contractions during this time, but for the most part I wasn't even aware of them happening. I listened to a few hypno-tracks to help me stay relaxed, and that also enabled me to take a small nap. At 2:00, I was finally given the okay to get out of bed, but would only have an hour because we were to start pitocin at 3:00 (which would mean constant monitoring). Me and my doula (who is also named Tiffany!) spent that entire hour power walking through the L&D ward. Which, by the way, only consisted of 2 hallways shaped like a T, so I'm sure we looked kinda loony passing the nurses station every 15 seconds! But I wanted to make the most out of my freedom of movement, as well as do all that I could to help my body progress naturally.
So at maybe a quarter past 3:00, the pitocin was started. Then, honestly, the next 12 hours were pretty consistent as far as contents goes! But these are the 3 main reasons I made it through:
1. Evan and Tiffany. Evan's love, and Tiffany's skills. You guys, I could NOT have done this without my doula. No way. I am so incredibly grateful for her-words cannot convey how huge of a role she played.
2. Counter pressure on my hips. Because although we got the little babe head down, he wasn't FACE down. My sunny side up baby=100% back labor. Not one contraction in front.
3. This goes back to Tiffany as well, since she's the one that helped direct me to do this and reminded me throughout to continue it, but "ohhh"-ing through each contraction. Low tone, and as if I was saying the word "open" (which I did end up saying a lot toward the end, because it helped me visualize myself opening up, and helped me make sure I was keeping that low tone.)
So, by 8:00, I was definitely ready for a nap. That's when I had all of those thoughts that I honestly (naively) thought I wouldn't have: "I'm never having a baby again"  "This will NEVER END!" "How did I think I could do this?" I told my doula I just wanted to take a break...I'd come back to it later! I was actually able to relax really deeply between contractions, nearly falling asleep! But in some ways that just bugged me even more-imagine being about to drift away to the sweet relief that sleep offers, then being woken up by a CONTRACTION...every 5 minutes or less...for 12 hours. Pretty annoying, lol! I never did ask for, or even want an epidural, but not because I wouldn't have appreciated some relief-it was that I knew full well there was NO WAY I was willing to sit still long enough to get one! No way. Every time I had to get a cervical exam, I just wanted to cry, because I hated having to sit/lay still. Anyway, it was around that 8:00 hour that I felt most discouraged. I knew I wasn't anywhere near the end, and felt overwhelmed with the idea of continuing this for hours. Tiffany said wonderful things that encouraged and reassured me, and soon I realized I just had to make a mental switch if I was going to do this. And I WAS going to do this, because I frankly had no choice, so I might as well make it easier in myself by switching my mindset! I started noticing that if I could just make it to the 3rd breath during a contraction, (out of the 5-6 I'd take) I'd be past the worst of it. So I tried taking it just one contraction at a time, just focusing on getting to that 3rd breath. That felt MUCH more doable than thinking of another 7 hours of contractions (boy, am I glad I had no idea I still had that long! Probably would have put a damper on my mental strength ;))
So that pretty much was how I spent my time until sometime near the 3:00 hour the next morning. Isn't time during labor so strange? I had absolutely no concept of it-besides feeling like there was too much between where I was, and where it all would end! But when Evan and Tiffany told me we were hitting midnight, and our baby would actually be born the 20th, I thought it was so strange how much time had passed! Anyway, eventually I felt the urge to push, but was still only at an 8 and therefore had to ignore that instinct. That. Was. AWFUL! It felt so much better to push with the contractions. Then, when I was finally given the go-ahead to push, nothing much happened, so I had coached pushing, which then lasted two hours! That whole situation was definitely the worst, because I felt so unproductive. Eames' head was visible for a large portion of that time, but any progress I made reversed as soon as I stopped pushing. When I did finally delivered his head, it wasn't because I magically got more strength or anything. It just seemed to finally work-but Tiffany has a theory that I think makes sense:
Apparently he did come out face down, despite my back labor. She thinks that he was sunny side up, but twisted head down in the birth canal, which would help explain the cord that was wrapped so tightly around his neck, and would mean there was less cord to work with for me to get him out. She hypothesizes that my placenta finally detached, which allowed me more give to finally get him out.
Whatever ended up happening, it was so wonderful that it finally did after so much time passing of feeling like a failure who didn't know how to push her baby out!
As I said, his cord was wrapped incredibly tight around his neck, tight enough that Pat immediately cut it. I pushed the rest of him out, and he was pretty much immediately taken to that little table where they worked to get him breathing. I knew things were a little more severe than normal, because I had asked for delayed cord clamping + immediate skin to skin, and there was no way Pat would disregard that without valid reason. Evan went to be with Eames (though we didn't know he was an "Eames" yet...Tiffany was actually the one to remind Evan to go check the gender!) while I was stitched up (minor tearing). It was about 10 minutes before he was brought to me, all bundled with his cap on.

He looked EXACTLY like Evan to me. He looked straight into my eyes while I held and talked to him, but it was so short lived-less than 5 minutes-before they took him to the NICU for some monitoring. 

I thought it would be an hour or so. Then it was a few hours. Then, a neonatologist came in to talk to both me and Evan, and we were informed they were concerned about something called perinatal asphyxia. They wanted to run some tests, but they weren't available at our location and Eames would be transferred to a different location an hour away. Evan and I got to go see him in the NICU for about 10 minutes, then he left shortly after because the main test they wanted to do needed to be done within 6 hours of birth, and it had already been a few hours. 

Now I'll just state facts: Eames passed all tests beautifully, and all original concerns were eventually disregarded. He was born on a Wednesday, I was discharged Friday and we immediately went to see him. We got a hotel for the weekend so we could spend as much time as possible with him. He was discharged that Sunday. 

I can't yet write about my feelings of those first few days. Even though he's home, two weeks old and perfectly healthy, it's still too painful. Even when I just think to myself, it makes me sob, so I try to focus on the now-he's beautiful, healthy, and I am beyond grateful to have him home with us. Maybe someday I'll be able to elaborate...perhaps when my hormones are a bit more regulated? :)

As far as feelings toward the birth, I feel very proud of what my body was able to accomplish! But if next time, I could just not have pitocin induced back labor...that'd be awesome! ;) I'll take either one without the other if I have to! Really though, at this point I'm thinking, if I can have a regular, natural progressing labor...   I will be so ready to handle that! 

Here is my beautiful son, Eames Kenneth Nay

Born Aug 20, 5:05 am

7 lb 9 oz, 20"