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September 10, 2003
In my last entry I touched very briefly on my thoughts about my next birth. Mike & I hope to have our next baby when Hana is 3 or 4 years old, so we have awhile until we even start trying….but alas, the perpetual planner in me is emerging, and I find myself thinking a lot about where I want to give birth next time. I know for a fact that I prefer the midwifery model of care, so short of any medical complications requiring an OB, I know I will use a midwife. Whether I will use a Nurse Midwife or a Licensed Midwife is up in the air, and dependent upon where I choose to give birth…in a hospital setting, in a birth center, or in my own home. Which leads me to the topic at hand…
Hana’s birth was a magical, exhilarating experience. The birth itself was as close to perfect as I could have hoped for. It was serene, quiet and very private. She was born in a cozy birth center (if Eloise is reading…I swear, this one did not have plastic lounge chairs!), into the hands of my gentle midwife, Wendy, in a quiet room with candles flickering and only 4 people present (me, Mike, Wendy and an assisting midwife). It still amazes me how internal an event labor was. I panicked a bit when we arrived at the birth center, but I was gently coaxed through that moment, into a warm, soothing tub where my fear eased and I turned inside myself. From that point on, I only have flashes of memory; precise moments that I recall vividly (a specific bite of yogurt, spoon-fed from Mike, the hands of the clock at 5:35, the blue-gray sky in one moment I looked out the window). The hours, though…where did the hours go, I wonder now? What did I think about for those 4 or 5 hours I was submerged in that tub? What did I say? What was Mike doing, what was Wendy doing?
I don’t remember the experience as a whole, yet at the same time, it was the most wholesome experience I’ve ever had. It comes to me in bits & pieces over time, and not because it was traumatic, but because it was just so indescribably internal. Remembering and re-living that day is truly a revelation, as my memory pulls this most animal of experiences out of my deep consciousness and reveals it to me slowly.
As much as it was peaceful and internal, the purity of labor & birth was also exhilarating. The natural, escalating surge of the contractions was surprising & exciting. Something to be counted on, a wave I could gather strength for and then surf over, tumbling back down into the warm water; not the brute force some describe. Feeling my baby girl move down through my body, so earthy, like a quake or like mountains shifting. The intense searing, burning pain, eclipsed so wildly by the life, the soul, the existence, the being of the pushing experience; the pain was a tangent. Never have I been so present in myself, yet so far removed at the same time.
In the moments after Hana slipped from my body, Mike & I quietly held her and whispered to her, and watched her in reverence & awe. I birthed the placenta but hardly recall it, so distracted was I.
The labor & birth were perfect. It is the hours after this enchanting period that cause me to question where I want to birth my next baby.
Eventually I snapped out of the post-birth reverie and realized that I desperately needed to pee and would go mad without a shower. I took a delirious & scary trip to the bathroom, (a few feet away) where I kept blacking out and seeing stars. I did make it to the toilet, but a shower was not in the cards. The next few hours, which should have been as serene & magical & happy as the labor and birth, were damaged & scratched by faintness & worry & fear. I was hooked up to an IV for extra fluids, and could hardly sit up in bed without feeling faint. I was a little worried, but what I remember even more clearly than fear was subtle anger, a feeling of being cheated out of these precious moments with my husband and our baby, introducing her for the first time to her family—grandparents, uncles, aunt.
My midwife Wendy had to leave shortly after Hana’s birth to attend another imminent delivery. (her partner Heather was out of town, so Wendy was practicing solo). I understand and respect that she had to attend to another patient, just as she had so lovingly attended me. I do not blame Wendy in any way, shape or form. But all the same, I wish it could have been different. Part of the reason I chose a midwife was for that almost sisterly-level of care, and I think over the last year (since Hana’s birth), I have realized that I felt a little..abandoned & cheated, and in my ‘time of need,’ no less.
Two new midwives stepped in, so that Wendy could get on her way. Both of the new midwives were incredible, warm, wonderful, motherly. They both had years & years of experience and are well-known in Seattle, so I had no doubts about my safety or level of care. All the same, it just kind of stunk (to be blunt) that the midwife I had built a relationship with over the last 7 or 8 months couldn’t be there.
I knew logically that what I was experiencing was, while not completely normal, also not abnormal. I don’t recall any one reason being pinpointed for why I was feeling faint, but there was much discussion of different possibilities and different ways to remedy the problem. At some point the midwives decided they needed to do a ‘sweep’ of my uterus to remove a clot (which could or could not have been related to my lightheadedness…I’m not sure). Long story short, they tried to do the sweep a few times, and in the end I just couldn’t take it and asked to go to the hospital for pain meds before they removed the darn thing. Off to the hospital we went (for the fuller version of the story, refer to my birth story back in the earlier part of my diary!).
Strangely enough, I was not at all sad or upset to be transferring to the hospital (aside from being mad at some rude ambulance guys—see my birth story for reference). I’m sure a big part of that was that I had successfully birthed my baby in the environment I had dreamed of for us. And now I just wanted to feel right and be fully present again (not focused on keeping myself from passing out). What I recall upon arriving at the hospital was this strong feeling of safety. I had not doubted, nor do I now doubt, my ability to safely birth a baby outside of a hospital. But when the post-birth complications arose, I realize now I was scared to be outside of a hospital.
And I think this is the crux of the matter. A hospital feels safer to me should complications arise.
When I arrived at the hospital, I knew whatever the issue was could certainly be taken care of by these doctors, nurses and all of the medical technology available. In the end, the hospital staff did exactly what the midwives would have done (absolutely nothing different—their Dx and Rx were exactly the same); the only difference was that I got the pain medication I needed to allow them back into my body. But I also just plain felt safer there; that whatever happened, they had every means available to take care of me.
It is not a matter of feeling that my midwives weren’t safe or didn’t measure up to the capabilities of the hospital in this particular situation. They did, in fact, do everything right, and Wendy delivered to me the most beautiful girl, in an idyllic setting. I felt incredibly safe during the entire labor & birth experience. It was only after Hana was born, when I was blacking out, that I felt fear, worry and concern for my safety…however logical or illogical that was. I felt it, and it was real.
The post-birth experience just opened a new door for me; a door that left me peering over the cliff of “what-ifs,” a very slippery slope. I had managed to avoid that slide down into remote, scary territory, where you wander through horrible scenarios & scenes of medical complications during my pregnancy. Perhaps that is what allowed me to have such complete faith in my body. And it worked. My body listened to its own ancient wisdom and released a perfect baby into the world, safely and naturally. Yet now I have opened that worrisome door, and I can’t help but always end up in this place:
”What if something happened to my baby, something that could have been prevented in a hospital? How would I ever survive that?”
I don’t doubt or question the safety & ability of midwives, of the body’s ability to birth. I still oppose unnecessary interventions in childbirth, and think such interventions are appallingly abused & misused in the US. I vehemently believe that these interventions often result in the very complications that require advanced medical care; whereas labor & childbirth are generally best left to nature. I fully believe that certain elements are crucial to a positive & enlightening birth experience: privacy, safety & peaceful surroundings.
But I still end up in that place; that one single ‘what-if’ that supersedes all reason & knowledge.
As I read back through this, it seems that my cards are stacked in favor of an outside-of-hospital birth experience. I know that is where my heart leads me. I know that what happened after Hana’s birth could probably have been prevented (just learned from my new ND that I was likely slightly anemic, and could have benefited from an injection of something-or-other; some form of injectible iron that acts immediately) and could be managed the next time I give birth. I know in my heart-of hearts that I will be happier with an out-of-hospital birth experience. I know that amongst my fears is another fear; fear of delivering my next child into a lesser environment than the one Hana was welcomed into. The thought of my baby’s first introduction to the world being that of bright lights, noise, strange voices, too many faces…that just makes me sad and even angry, and certainly seems unfair.
There is a whole additional side to this that I haven’t touched on yet. And that is my parents. They are both very strongly against another out-of-hospital birth. I did not tell them that I was delivering Hana in a birth center (because I knew they would spend my entire pregnancy convincing me to do it another way….no matter how many statistics or facts or articles I gave them). Put simply, I know my parents, and I know when their minds can be changed and when they cannot. Their faith in the superior safety of in-hospital birth is not something I, or anyone else, will change. I simply know that.
So when we called them from the birth center just minutes after Hana was born, they were elated and thrilled….but also shocked, appalled, and over time, disappointed & angry. I think part of their disappointment is rooted in the fact that I didn’t share my plans with them. I know they felt left out and are rightfully hurt by my secrecy (but I still know I did what was right for me by not telling them). But I also get a sense that they are disappointed in my decision-making and my maturity. They still give the vibe that, in their minds, this was a poor decision and an immature, selfish decision (as in “I’m gonna prove I can do this). We’ve talked about it some, but I still can’t help but get on the defensive really quickly…and when I get that way, I’m really, really bad at rational discussion. I have a hard time focusing on what I’m trying to say and saying it clearly. So much of what I have to go on is brief, emotionally charged comments from them both. Additionally, my mom has explicitly BEGGED me to have my next baby in a hospital. The depth of her expression so shocked me that I really didn’t, and still haven’t, responded to her. I think I just shrugged in response, but her intensity is still affecting me (obviously).
I should probably write something down, or maybe have them read this, and maybe that will help us sort through all of this. But to be honest, I am either not ready yet to discuss this with them, or I just never will be. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t have to justify this most-personal of choices to anyone, including my own parents….but then another part of me is willing to defer in-part to their wishes and follow the path to a midwife-attended hospital birth (in addition to my OWN reasons for considering this option). A hospital birth almost seems like the easier route, the choice that will at least satisfy everyone, if not make everyone ecstatically happy (read: me). Ha, just writing ‘everyone’ makes me grimace…as if this is even an ‘everyone’ proposition I’m talking about…ahh, but in a way it is…this is family and for my family, there are blurry lines where we cross from ‘immediate’ and into the larger realm of grandmas and grandpas and cousins and aunts and uncles. In a way this IS my choice; it is my body and I am the one giving birth. But it is also not only my choice…I feel a responsibility to make the RIGHT choice, not only for me Mike and our baby, but for our families; to safely birth another generation.
That is absolutely corny. But it is true. I’ve now tried a few times to re-write it, but what’s above is really just the truth, no matter how corny it reads.
When I’m feeling spiritual and I think about birth, I dream of my next baby being born in our downy bed. I dream of a winter baby, with the tap-tap-tap of drizzling rain on our roof, and a fire in our hearth, candles in our bedroom, and a dark sky outside the half-drawn shades. I dream of quiet music and a quiet house and a warm tub of water, with just three or four of us hunkering down inside, preparing to meet a new person. And I know this could be my reality, yet…
When I’m feeling like a realist (as in MY reality, not as in what is most realistic for the universe in general), I imagine a pleasant, quick, easy and even cheerful hospital birth under the care of the Nurse Midwives at the University of Washington. In some way, this seems like the easy alternative for me; no agonizing over my fears & worries, and no worrying about upsetting the apple cart (that being my parents). This daydream feels absolutely different; more…Perky. And less spiritual. And sometimes, I think that sounds pretty darn nice. To just feel totally safe, to be attended to by nurses & midwives alike, to keep it REAL, rather than otherworldly, in a very safe & sterile room of bright linoleum and shiny stainless steel. Other times, I am saddened at the thought of a less-than-ethereal birth experience.
So, there’s where I’m at. No conclusions, no decisions, and no rush to come to either yet, luckily.
Hana’s latest accomplishment is that she has mastered walking up & down stairs forward-facing, holding onto a railing (as long as she can actually reach it). So whenever she can, she walks up & down stairs ‘like a big girl’…no more crawling up or down if she can help it!
She’s got a few wisps of that curly blonde hair falling over her ears now, finally! These wisps just barely settle over the tops of her ears, and here I am already getting so excited at the prospect of pigtails and ponytails. I think its because I see Ella (Melissa of MomsToday’s daughter) almost daily, and see her adorable pigtails!
I love the fuzzy, curly layer of hair that Hana has now…love, love, love kissing he head and smelling her head and rubbing my lips through her soft hair. I do believe that in addition to having my feet tickled or getting a really good massage, Hana’s head is one of (my) life’s greatest pleasures. The tickle of her hair against my lips, the weight of her head against my shoulder or breast, the fluffy fresh smell of her hair against my nose….mmm, I revel in it. Now if I could just get enough hair to make some of those adorable pigtails…!
Hana still has a relatively limited (verbal) vocabulary, and her enunciation, frankly, stinks. J Her comprehension still astounds me. That is not to say her comprehension is advanced; it simply amazes me that she has learned so much so quickly. Her words are: mom, mama, dad (which sounds more like dod, very succinct), daddy (which sounds like dAA!dy: sharp & excited A), bus, ball, bath (which ALL sound like varying tones of ‘ba,’ but by virtue of pointing, I know what she’s saying), bubble (bu-bA!), kitty (which sounds like titty, posing a potential problem), and boobie (bu-BEE!) which she learned b/c yes, she is still nursing.
I love her to pieces, and am constantly dumbfounded to find that my love for her keeps growing and taking over more of me, even though I don’t think I could ever love her more than I do at any one instant. It is amazing and raw, to love this deeply and fully. It scares me even while it gives me the greatest joy I’ve ever known. Since Hana, everything, everything, life, everything, just seems so fragile.
Today is the first really fall-feeling day in Seattle. I looked at the clock awhile ago, assuming by the light outside that it was about 10am. Nope—it was noon! So, fall is truly upon us, and I do feel cozy here, tucked in my office with my nice little rice-paper lampshade casting amber light around the room and my (decaf, now that its noon) coffee steaming next to me.
Shorecrest Football (high school team that Mike coaches) won their first game last Friday; an unexpected and very exciting win. One of the senior receivers (Mike is receiver coach) had two really nail-biting, hold-your-breath-jump-up-and-down 50+ yard runs for two touchdowns, and the crowd was wild. Hana absolutely adored the marching band and had herself a time dancing to the Fight Song and “Tequila!” She was privileged to enter the inner-realm of the Student Section (with her aunt Ceilidh), where adults are forbidden and high school lore rules (I was pleasantly surprised to find the high school girls looked much less….um, slutty than the year before. I still wonder how the chubby-belly hanging-over-waytoolow-rise pants ever came to be so fashionable, but hey, I suppose high-school acceptance of rounded bellies means we’ve come along way, and I should just be happy. At least this year I didn’t see so many slivers of fabric also known as (incredibly revealing) halter-tops on the girls). Hana was in high-spirits and wide-awake through the end of the game (almost 10pm), when she got to race out across the Astroturf field and fell happily into her daddy’s arms—a picturesque moment if I ever witnessed one.
I should hear in the next day or so how the board of directors responded to my telecommuting proposal. I’m waiting with baited breath.
I still find myself struggling with questions about my work. I have a page I pulled from a magazine long ago hanging on my bulletin board at home. It is “Secrets to a Happy Life” or something like that, and has items such as “keep close ties with family & friends,” “read books,” “find exercise you love,” “get outside” and things like that. I look at it often, and every time I look at it, I think that I have achieved, or do, or practice, all of the wisdom on that page, except one. There is one thing that I still feel is missing, and that is “find work you love.” I can see the collective rolling of the eyes, as my readers think “good lord, she’s back on THIS again.” Ah yes, I am. I think its an ongoing journey and a quest for me.
Right now I’m feeling satisfied with my current job, motivated by the desire to further develop a family-friendly workplace here, and honest (with myself) about the financial need to stay-put for now, until Mike’s business is more secure.
That said, the desire to find ‘work I love’ is still there, and something I work on and think about daily. Frankly, I don’t know exactly what I want to do with myself, other than be a mom and a wife. But I do want something more than just that. And I want it to come with flexible hours, good pay, great benefits. Ha. Actually, what I really want is to someday be in a financial position to find work that I love, regardless of the pay. Maybe that means volunteering, maybe it means a part-time job, heck, maybe someday I’ll actually want to work full-time again (doubtful). I don’t know. That is part of the fun though—the journey. Some people just know what they’re meant to do, and I do envy that kind of purpose. Since I don’t know, I’m enjoying asking myself questions that will hopefully lead me to something I love.
Oprah is a great guide for this sort of searching. THAT is corny right there, I know, and it is embarrassing to write for the world. But many of her shows, her magazine and her website all have great tools for thinking about one’s ‘passions,’ and I use them.
There are 2 (and actually, I think only one came from Oprah) worksheets that I brainstorm with often. I always print or save a copy, and it is fun to refer back to them over time. Some things change, but I see patterns emerge in my answers about what I want in my life, where my passions lie, and what I want my life’s work to be (in addition to the most important work of being a mother and wife). I don’t have solid answers yet, but it is a journey, and someday I hope to have the financial means to pursue something that is more meaningful to true to me than working in an office, helping people figure out how their benefits work and resolving their claims.
I thought I would post those worksheets here (they’re really just a series of questions) for anyone who might benefit from them, so, here they are. They are a bit corny, and they are very self-involved, but isn’t that the point?
Sorry for the indecent length of this entry…I guess I’m making up for lost time. J
Worksheet 1: Questions
What are my interests, passions, desires?
What are my professional goals?
What are your personal goals?
Who do I know that's doing something I'd like to do? Describe.
Is/are there any specific issue(s) that really interests me or that I feel strongly about?
When I lose track of time, what am I doing?
What do I love/love to do?
What would I do if I knew I could not fail?
What would I do if money was not a concern in my life?
How could I make the world a better place for myself and others?
Who do you think you are? Have you labeled yourself a mother, student, caregiver? What are the other parts of you?
What did you love when you were a child?
List five things that you want (goals).
List five things that you're good at.
Do you know the difference between them?
What drives you, and what gives you satisfaction?
When you were young, what did you know you would do when you grew up?
What would you regret not having done if your life was ending? Describe yourself doing it.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years?
Spend one week paying close attention to what excites you, touches you, inspires you to think in a whole new way, or even frustrates you. Watch for clues. Stories in newspapers, programs on television or conversations with friends may give you an indication of those things that will lead you to your passions.
Write a curriculum vitae in 15 lines or less—not a résumé, but a description you might give to someone introducing you as a speaker. Repeat the exercise, but write your description as if it were 15 to 20 years from now. Start thinking about what it would take to get from the first introduction to the second. In CEO lingo, this kind of thinking is called a gap analysis.
Worksheet 2-Questions
What subjects do you most enjoy reading about?
What television or radio programs do you most enjoy?
What are your favorite types of movies?
What are your favorite hobbies or pastimes?
What type of volunteer activities do you prefer?
What subjects do you enjoy discussing with friends?
What subjects come to mind when you daydream?
What have been your favorite jobs?
What were your favorite school subjects?
What are your pet peeves?
If you doodle, what do you often draw?
If you ran the world, what changes would you make?
If you won a million bucks, what would you do with it?
What are your favorite kinds of people?
How would you like to be remembered after your death?
What are your favorite toys?
How would you describe your political beliefs?
Who do you most admire in life and why?
What tasks have brought you the most success?
What tasks do you think you could do well that you haven't yet done?
Examine your answers. Do you see a certain behavior or belief in more than one aspect of your life? What information do you see repeated that seems to reveal a behavior pattern? What are your long-lasting interests?
Using this information, paint a self-portrait by completing the following statements:
· I am mainly interested in…
· I believe most in…
· I most value…
· For a good life, I feel I need…
· I can do the following well…
Now ask yourself if your current job helps you achieve these five statements. If it does, you're probably in the right career. Chances are, however, that the nagging voice means your current career is not satisfying your core features. If this is the case, then it's time to find a better fit.
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